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arrowflier · 3 years ago

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In Case of Emergency Part 3 (on AO3 or continue below)

Part 1 Part 2

“Think you can drive any more recklessly?” Hen asks as Mickey takes a turn too fast, her ass sliding across the bench seat in the back of the converted ambulance. They had managed to rig something up to keep her patient steady, at least, though he groaned at the swaying of the vehicle. Hen wishes, once again, that she had gotten to stay in their own bus with the redhaired ex-EMT driving, but Chimney had already been settled by the time they decided to take what help they could get.

“Are we tryin’ to get there fast or not?” Mickey retorts from the front seat, steering into the middle turning lane to avoid traffic that can’t get over in time.

“Besides,” he quips as he lays on the horn yet again, “thought breaking the rules was the point of these annoying fucking sirens?”

“No,” Hen replies dryly, “it really isn’t.”

But they are making good time, she has to admit. They’re slicing through LA traffic more efficiently than usual, in fact, Mickey demanding space wherever he can with sharp presses of the horn and squealing tires.

It makes her wonder just how used to driving an emergency vehicle this guy is.

“Is that why you use a decommissioned ambulance?” she can’t stop herself from asking as she once again checks her patient’s vitals. “To get away with breaking the rules?”

She doesn’t look up, attention focused on wiping bile away from her patient’s mouth, but she can hear Mickey snort.

“Sure,” he says idly, blowing through an intersection amid a series of angry honks from the cars around them. “Let’s go with that.”

Hen shakes her head, at the avoidance of the question and at the wet, rattling cough that comes from the makeshift gurney in front of her.

“That’s not an answer,” she says absently as she unravels a stethoscope to check on the injured man’s lungs. They sound surprisingly clear.

“No, it ain’t,” Mickey answers, and they fall into silence as sirens blare around them. Hen gets her patient settled again, not much she can do but keep him steady.

She doesn’t mind the quiet. Doesn’t need idle chitchat. But it seems to make Mickey uncomfortable, because he breaks the silence himself after swerving onto a side street.

“Ian was in a bad place, for a bit,” he says, barely audible over the noise of the street. “Quit his shitty warehouse job, didn’t wanna leave the house.” Hen looks up in time to see him shrug, his eyes avoiding hers in the rearview mirror. “Thought if I found something new, he’d feel better.”

Hen doesn’t respond. She keeps a steady hand on the chest of her patient, now quiet like them, and waits.

“So we started this business,” Mickey tells her. “Let him dress me up like his old army dream, stuck him in a sto—” He cuts himself off, glances at her before restarting. “An ambulance we got at a perfectly legal auction,” he says this time, “and hoped for the best.”

“And did it work?” Hen asks, then adds, “Take a right up here, we’re getting close.”

Mickey obeys, only to curse when an SUV nearly T-bones them.

“Fucking assholes,” he mutters, flipping off the other driver as he straightens out into their new lane. “Can’t they hear the damn sirens?”

“Uh, kinda,” he says a minute later, going back to her question. “He still misses it, though, you know? Helping people and shit.”

Mickey sounds almost wistful under his gruff tone. Like he misses it somehow, too.

“So why doesn’t he go back?” Hen pushes, knowing she probably shouldn’t. Knowing she should be focusing on other things, things more important than why an ex-con and his partner are in their current situation.

Mickey seems to agree.

“You miss the part where we were in prison?” he asks, clearly unimpressed, and she can see in the rearview that his eyebrows have climbed nearly off his face.

“That’s not always a dealbreaker anymore,” she points out, a little annoyed that he thinks she’d missed something so obvious. “Depending on the charge, at least.”

She looks him over as much as she can from where she sits, takes in the tattooed hands, but also the cleancut nails and young face.

“You can’t have done much time.”

Mickey huffs, and shakes his head.

“I did plenty,” he tells her, “he didn’t. But let’s say there are some other things at play, here.”

Other things. Things like their obvious codependency? The business they share? Hen has to wonder.

“Would you stop him?” she asks plainly, not sure what she’s expecting.

But she definitely wasn’t expecting him to laugh as he cuts off a city bus.

“Fuck no, you kidding me?” he says, and it sounds like the truth. “Just want him to be happy, reach his full fucking potential or whatever.”

He glances at her in the mirror, puts his eyes back on the road before she can admonish him.

“You know what’s it like being married to guy so much better than the rest of the people in your life that you wonder why he isn’t winning fucking prizes or some shit?” he asks, fond and exasperated at once, and well.

“My wife is a rocket scientist,” she tells him, and his eyes dart back to her reflection again.

“You know, then,” he says, and she thinks she does. “How fucking addicting it is to see them blow people out of the water.”

Hen doesn’t answer.

“Take the next left,” she says instead. “Then the right after that, and we’re there.”

Mickey does. Doesn’t try to say anything else as he pulls into the drive of the hospital, sirens still blaring, tires squealing as he turns into the emergency bay. He hops out of the driver’s seat unprompted, comes around to open up the back, and helps her lift their patient out.

He’s quiet as they carry him in through the automatic doors, quiet as Hen takes over talking to the professionals there. Quiet as the real ambulance tears into the bay behind theirs, Ian and Chimney running in with their head injury patient and bypassing the two of them completely.

Ian looks right, next to the gurney with Chimney. His hands are steady, his face focused, as he rattles off information for the intake nurse. And his eyes, when he watches them take his charge back for immediate care, are shining.

“Hey,” Mickey says behind her as their own patient is wheeled off with slightly less urgency.

Hen looks back at him, but his eyes are on his husband.

“You think you could help him out?” Mickey asks softly. The thumb of his left hand rubs at his wedding band; the other hand comes up to brush the space over his chest. “Get him back in the game?”

Hen looks back to Ian, smiling broadly while Chimney claps him on the shoulder, looking for all the world like a man that has found his purpose.

“You know what?” she says, and meets Mickey’s hopeful eyes. “I’ll see what I can do.”

#daily speedwrite #gallavich #mickey milkovich #henrietta wilson #crossover #fanfic #one more part after this

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rhosyn-du · 4 years ago

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Never make a mess when a total catastrophe will do - Chapter Six

Pairings: Jimon, past Clace, background Clizzy, a bunch of other minor background pairings Rating: Explicit Art: @cor321 Beta: @all-thestories-aretrue Tags: Alternate Universe - College/University, fake dating, oh my god they were roommates, friends with benefits, idiots to lovers, pining, miscommunication, holidays, drinking games, mistletoe, symbolically significant Oreos, domestic fluff, brief mention of past character death, Jace’s self-worth issues deserve their own tag Summary: What do you do when you find out your sister is not only dating your ex and love-of-your-high-school-life but is also bringing her home for Christmas? Bring your annoying, hot, annoyingly-hot roommate as your fake boyfriend to show them you're totally fine with it, obviously! There's no possible way this could backfire. Link: AO3 , Tumblr Master Post

Chapter Six

The irritation had been building all day, like sand rubbing under his skin, and it was especially irritating because Jace knew he didn’t have a good reason for it. Nothing was actually wrong, just a string of little frustrations that hadn’t let up all day, from the ancient coffee maker in their kitchen that didn’t start brewing when it was set to, meaning he had to go to his morning classes without any caffeine, to discovering he’d left his history textbook at home when his professor announced a surprise open-book quiz, right on through to missing his bus home and having to wait forty minutes for the next one, meaning he walked in the door with less than fifteen minutes before his friends were supposed to show up at his place for a group study session.

“Oh, hey,” Simon said when he walked through the door. “You’re home. I was starting to wonder if I got the day wrong and we weren’t having people over tonight, but then Bat texted asking if he should bring Spicy Ranch Doritos—which, obviously—so I figured you were probably just running late, which it turns out you were.”

“Excellent observational skills.” Jace tossed his bag onto the couch, not looking at Simon, and headed for the kitchen, intending to grab a beer from the fridge. Except when he opened it, there weren’t any left, and he realized he’d completely forgotten to go to the store the day before, because of course he had.

He slammed the refrigerator door shut, taking out his frustration on the appliance. It wasn’t as satisfying as he’d hoped.

“Everything okay?”

Jace spun around to find Simon in the doorway, watching him with an expression that held both wariness and concern.

“Everything’s peachy.”

“Yeah, I can tell,” Simon said mildly. “You definitely use the word ‘peachy’ in casual conversation when things are going great.”

Jace took a deep breath, let it out slowly. “Look, I’ve had a shitty day, all right? I’ve had a shitty day, and we’re out of beer, and I don’t need you trying to get me to talk out my feelings or whatever it is you’re trying to do right now.”

“Okay,” Simon agreed. “What do you need?”

Jace blinked. “What?”

“You don’t need to talk about your shitty day,” Simon said, moving into the kitchen to lean on the counter next to him. “So what do you need? Lily’s bringing beer, so that’s already taken care of.”

It should have been a simple question to answer, but Jace wasn’t used to people asking what he needed. Jace wasn’t used to considering what he needed.

“I don’t know.”

“What about a distraction?” Simon offered.

“A distraction,” Jace repeated, skeptical.

“Yeah.” Simon was grinning as he hooked his fingers through Jace’s belt loops and pulled their bodies together. “A distraction.”

Jace licked his lips, dropped his eyes to Simon’s mouth. “People are going to be here in eight minutes.” He didn’t have any objections to spending those eight minutes making out with Simon.

Simon’s grin widened. “Guess I’d better work fast, then.”

And then he dropped to his knees.

Jace sucked in a sharp breath as Simon popped the button on his jeans. “What are you doing?”

“I know you’ve had a shitty day,” Simon said, pulling down Jace’s fly, “but you can’t be that out of it.”

Jace let out a soft laugh and let himself slump back against the refrigerator door as Simon took out his rapidly-plumping cock and worked him to full hardness with his hands and mouth.

He was used to Simon teasing, giving him almost enough and then pulling back until he was desperate with it. This was the opposite, with every touch, every lick and swallow driving him relentlessly toward the edge, the frustration of his day bleeding away as Simon blew him with expert efficiency.

In almost no time at all, Jace was struggling to keep his legs under him as he felt his balls start to draw up, and he was so close—

And that was when Simon, the absolute fucker, pulled off his dick to remark with far more casualness than the situation called for, “Did you lock the door when you got home? Because people are going to be here, like, any second.”

Then his mouth was back on Jace’s dick, swallowing him down like it was his job, and Jace was cursing because no, he hadn’t locked the door and any second their friends could walk in and see—Jace, desperate and falling apart; Simon, swollen red lips wrapped around Jace’s cock taking him apart—and that was—it was—

There was a sharp knock on the door, and Jace came with a strangled shout.

Simon worked him through it, pulling back only when a second knock sounded at the door. “Be there in just a minute,” he called, sounding far too composed for someone who’d just given fucking fantastic blowjob.

Simon stood, pressing a quick kiss to Jace’s lips before saying, “Somehow, I just knew you’d have a bit of an exhibitionism kink,” and heading for the door, leaving Jace to fumble his pants closed and try look like he hadn’t just had his brain sucked out through his dick.

“You all right, man?” Bat greeted him as he entered the kitchen, arms loaded with far too many bags of Doritos for six people.

“Uh,” Jace said intelligently.

“Heard you shouting and I figured you must’ve hurt yourself. You were pretty loud.”

“I heard you down the hall,” Maureen added from the living room.

“Yeah, just stubbed my toe,” Jace lied, heading out to the living room. “Somebody left his stats book on the floor, and I tripped.”

Simon flashed him a shit-eating grin. Jace had a hard time not staring at his lips, still red and slightly puffy. “You should really be more careful.”

“Going to go help Maia bring stuff up from her car,” Maureen announced, holding up her phone. “Be right back.”

“You do know,” Jace told Simon in a low voice, “that I’m going to get payback for that, right?”

Simon’s smile grew smug. “Yeah. I do.”

After an hour of going over his notes and rehashing the earlier quiz with Lily, Jace was feeling much better about his history class, and even had some ideas for his end-of-term paper. They all took a break when the pizza they’d ordered arrived, and Jace found himself squeezed between Lily and Simon on the couch.

“So,” Lily said around a mouthful of pepperoni and cheese, “you two ready for your big wedding performance this weekend? Please say no, because I’ve still got fifty bucks riding on you not making it through this without panicking.”

“Your concern is so touching,” Jace said. “I really don’t know what I’d do without such supportive friends.”

“Based on what I saw the night we met, you’d spend a lot more time getting drinks thrown in your face by girls whose names you forgot,” Maia said.

“I did not forget her name,” Jace protested. “I hit on her girlfriend.”

“Not actually better,” Maureen observed.

“Okay, one, I had no idea they were dating, and two, not my fault she flirted back.”

“Just try not to get any drinks thrown in your face at cousin Rachel’s wedding,” Simon said, patting his knee condescendingly. And then left it there, like it was totally normal for him to touch Jace casually like this in front of their friends.

“Would it be cheating if I bribed Simon’s sister to take someone Jace hooked up with as her plus one?” Lily asked.

Jace thought she really didn’t need to. He was already panicking.

“Yes,” said Maia and Bat at the same time Simon said, “Oh god, please don’t.”

“You guys are no fun,” Lilly pouted, reaching for another slice of pizza.

“Speaking of Becky,” Maia said with affected casualness, “I was wondering if you could tell her—”

“Give me your phone,” Simon interrupted, holding out his hand. This had the effect of removing his hand from Jace’s knee, and Jace tried not to miss it.

“Sure,” Maia said slowly, pulling her phone out of her pocket. “Why do you need my phone?”

Simon took the phone and pulled up Maia’s contacts. “So you just text my sister instead of asking me to be your messenger pigeon.” He passed the phone back. “Or call her. I’m not picky as long as I don’t have to be involved.”

Maia stared at the phone for a few seconds, then shrugged and put it back in her pocket with a sigh. “Yeah, okay. Fair. I guess I can, like, be an adult about this or something.”

“Good,” Simon said, his hand making its way back to Jace’s knee. No one else seemed to notice, and Jace tried not to react. “Please do it before Sunday so I don’t have to listen to Becky failing to be subtle about asking about you.”

Maia bit back a grin. “She asks about me?”

“Who wants to place bets on how long it takes Maia to actually call this girl?” Lily asked.

~~~

“Okay, you need to turn down the charm a little bit or I think Bubbe Helen is actually going to try to adopt you,” Simon said as Jace returned from his sixth dance with Simon’s grandmother. Jace didn’t think Simon needed to know that she’d used every one of those to grill him on his family, his plans for the future, his intentions toward her grandson.

“Just tell her you’re not into incest,” Jace told him, eliciting a gagging noise from Becky, the only one of Simon’s relatives still sitting at the table with them.

“Your boyfriend is gross,” Becky informed Simon, stabbing a spear of asparagus from her plate.

Jace grinned at her. “Simon wanted me to turn down the charm. I’m just trying to be accommodating.” He grabbed Simon’s hand and lifted it to his lips to kiss his knuckles. It was something they’d been doing all day, exchanging little gestures of affection like they couldn’t quite keep their hands off each other. Which was actually kind of true in Jace’s case.

It had started during the ceremony, Jace bumping Simon’s shoulder when he noticed him start to tear up during the vows. He’d meant it to be lightly teasing, but Simon had simply flashed him a watery smile and taken his hand, lacing their fingers together. Jace’s stomach had made an odd little flip and he’d squeezed Simon’s hand, and they just...hadn’t stopped touching each other. All through the rest of the ceremony and reception, it was a stream of constant little touches that made Jace wish for things he couldn’t have, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to stop touching either.

It didn’t help that Simon looked really good in a suit.

“That’s playing dirty,” Becky huffed. “I can’t hate you when you make my brother smile like that.”

“It’s all part of my devious plan.” He threw a sideways glance at Simon, hoping to catch the smile only to find him glaring daggers at his sister.

“Aww,” Becky cackled, “are you embarrassed? That’s adorable.”

“Embarrassed that you’re my sister? Yes.”

“Consider it payback for your presence throughout my entire adolescence.”

Jace leaned in. “Is there a story here? It sounds like there’s a story.”

“Dude, don’t encourage her.”

Becky leaned back in her chair, a predatory gleam in her eyes. “I have so many stories.”

“Oh, look.” Simon said, standing suddenly and pulling Jace along with him. “There’s Aunt Ruth. We should really go say hi.”

“I’ll still have stories to tell your boyfriend when you get back,” Becky called after them. “Jace, ask him about the llamas!”

Jace followed Simon, barely holding in his laughter as they ducked through the crowd of wedding guests, and then through an unobtrusive door that led out into an empty hallway.

“I’m so sorry about her,” Simon said, finally turning to face him and looking genuinely apologetic.

Jace shook his head. “Don’t be. I was having fun. I can see why Becky and Maia get along so well.”

“Because they’re both more than happy to tell embarrassing stories about me?” Simon joked.

“Can you blame them? It is pretty fun to watch you get all worked up.”

“You do seem to enjoy getting me worked up,” Simon agreed with a quirk of his eyebrows. “But my cousin’s wedding really isn’t the place for that.”

Jace glanced around the empty hallway. This was a bad idea. A really, really bad idea.

He turned back to Simon, a suggestive smile playing across his lips. “You sure about that?”

“Jace.” Simon’s voice was warning even as his eyes flicked to Jace’s lips and back up again.

Jace curled a hand around the back of Simon’s neck. “Because I’m not sure there’s any such thing as a bad place to get you worked up.”

“Literally everyone I’m related to is in the next room,” Simon protested. But he didn’t pull away.

“Fair point,” Jace conceded. He glanced around the hallway, then tried the nearest door. It opened into a room just large enough to not qualify as a closet. Jace raised a questioning eyebrow at Simon.

Simon looked dubiously at the stacks of office supplies that lined one wall, then back at Jace. “How are you so good at convincing me to make bad decisions?” Simon asked before grabbing him by the tie and dragging him into a kiss.

Jace grinned against his mouth as they stumbled into the room. “It’s my superpower. I got bitten by a radioactive advertising executive as a teenager.”

“Fuck,” Simon muttered, kicking the door closed behind them. “You can’t make Spider-Man references when I’m kissing you; that’s cheating.”

“Yeah?” Jace asked, pushing him against the wall that wasn’t occupied by reams of printer paper. “Does it get you hot when I talk nerdy to you?” He tugged at Simon’s shirt, pulling it free from his pants. “Or does everything I do get you hot?”

“Definitely not everything.” Simon nipped along his jaw. “Your ego, for example? Very unattractive.”

“Now you’re just making things up.” He slid a hand down to cup Simon through his pants, and Simon bucked into the touch. “My ego definitely gets you hot.”

“I know—fuck.” He rocked into Jace’s hand again. “I know some guys have trouble separating their egos from their dicks, but I never thought you’d be one of them.”

“Any association between my ego and my dick is well-deserved.” He tugged at Simon’s belt. “Don’t bother trying to argue. We both know it’d be a lie.”

“Yeah, that’s not actually how arguments wo—oh.” Simon cut off, eyes wide, as Jace dropped to his knees.

Jace smirked up at him. “I figure the best way to avoid staining your suit is if you come in my mouth. Unless you’ve got objections.”

“I have exactly zero objections to having your mouth on me.” Simon curled a hand around Jace’s jaw, drawing his thumb along Jace’s bottom lip. “Like, ever.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Jace flicked his tongue out to catch the tip of Simon’s thumb and reached to finish unbuckling his belt.

He froze at the unmistakable sound of the door opening behind him.

Jace’s eyes were trained on Simon’s face, so he saw the emotions play out across it in real time: surprise, then panic, then a slowly dawning horror.

“Bubbe Helen!” Simon’s voice just barely managed to avoid being a squeak. “Hi! We were, uh, we were just—” He looked down at Jace helplessly.

The thing was, Jace had always been good in a crisis. No, that wasn’t exactly right. He’d always been calm in a crisis. Probably as a result of having endured so many starting at such a young age.

So, his gaze and voice were completely steady as he took Simon’s hand in both his own and asked, “Will you marry me?”

He heard a voice behind him that sounded suspiciously like Becky mutter, “Oh my god.”

Simon stared. “Wha—uh. Yes?” His eyes flickered up toward the doorway, then back to Jace. “Yes,” he said more firmly. “I will definitely marry you, which is of course why you’re on your knees right now, and…”

His voice trailed off as Jace pulled his ring—his father’s ring, the only ring he ever wore—off his own finger and slid it onto Simon’s. It was a little loose, but not enough to slide off.

Simon flexed his hand, the fluorescent light above glinting off the brushed platinum. And then he was pulling Jace to his feet and into a kiss that held a decidedly hysterical edge.

The kiss was short-lived, interrupted by a very deliberate throat clearing. Jace kept Simon’s hand clasped firmly in his as he turned around, the metal of the ring pressing into his skin a reminder of what he’d just done.

Bubbe Helen was watching him with a decidedly unimpressed look. Behind her, Becky had a hand clapped over her mouth, smothering what could have been either an overflow of emotion or laughter.

“Young man, did you just propose marriage to my grandson in a storage closet?”

Jace pasted on his best facsimile of a sheepish smile and prepared to lie his ass off.

~~~

“Look, I panicked, okay?”

Outside, rain poured down in heavy sheets, obscuring the passing scenery and dampening any other sounds. It made the inside of the van feel cut off from the rest of the world, like they were alone in their own tiny, bubble universe.

A muscle in Simon’s jaw twitched. “You said that already.” He kept his eyes on the road.

Jace’s eyes fell to the steering wheel, where the soft platinum of his father’s ring still rested on Simon’s finger. “You didn’t have to say yes.”

Simon didn’t respond to that, and Jace wished he could see his eyes, could find even the tiniest clue to what he was thinking. He’d barely said anything since they made their hasty exit from the reception. At least Becky and Bubbe Helen had agreed not to mention Simon’s supposed engagement to his mom until he could tell her himself.

The silence stretched between them as Jace stared out into the blurry downpour. The one saving grace to all of this was that at least no one else knew about it. Their friends would never let them hear the end of it if they found out. And Jace’s family, god, that would be a disaster. Izzy would probably try to plan the whole thing and they’d somehow end up actually married before Jace could even explain the situation to her.

“You know,” Simon said into the silence, “I hated you before I even met you.”

Jace didn’t know what to say to that, didn’t know if there was anything to say to that. That was okay, though, because Simon kept talking.

“Clary’s been my best friend since we were kids. My mom likes to tell the story of how we met on the playground and spent the whole day trying to build a moat around the swing set so no one else could play on it, but I don’t actually remember it. I don’t remember a time when I wasn’t friends with Clary. She’s just always been a part of my life. The best part, sometimes.”

He took a deep breath, threw a quick glance at Jace before continuing. “So, of course I fell in love with her.”

The words hit Jace like a punch to the gut, and he was very, very glad Simon’s eyes were back on the road and he couldn’t see the jumble of emotions that Jace was sure were written all over his face.

“We were in sixth grade when I realized,” Simon continued. “I think I’d probably been in love with her for a while, but it just sort of hit me one day that I was just completely and totally gone for her. And it only took me like ten minutes after that to figure out that she didn’t feel the same way about me, but that was okay. I mean, it wasn’t. That kind of thing never is when you’re twelve.” He let out a mirthless laugh. “Or when you’re an adult either, I guess. But it was as okay as it could be because I figured I just had to wait. Clary was the most important person in the world to me, and even though she didn’t love me like I loved her, I knew I was the most important person in her life, too, so I just figured.” He shrugged. “I figured that eventually she’d realize that we could be, you know, more.”

His voice got soft as he continued, “And then she met you.”

Jace sucked in a sharp breath. “Simon, I—”

“I’m glad she did,” Simon interrupted, and he sounded like he meant it. “Even though it sucked at the time. Every time she mentioned you, I just wanted to punch you in the face. Which is why I always made an excuse not to meet you, by the way. I thought if I did and you really were as perfect as she described you, I would actually hit you.”

“I did always wonder about the mysterious best friend who was never around,” Jace said around the odd lump in his throat he couldn’t seem to swallow down. “She talked about you all the time.”

“Yeah?” Simon sounded genuinely surprised. “That’s actually really good to hear. And it makes me even more glad she met you, because her falling for you, even spending so much time with you, it gave me time to get over her.”

The knot in Jace’s throat loosened an inch.

“By the time you guys broke up, I’d actually dated a couple of people who weren’t Clary, and even though I didn’t feel as strongly for any of them as I did for her, I realized that part of what makes our friendship so special is that it is friendship. And I think we might have really fucked that up if we tried to be anything else, so I’m glad we never did, because my friendship with Clary is still one of the best things in my life, and I’m pretty sure it always will be.”

“Is that what you wrote Random Afternoon about? About you and Clary?” It wasn’t what Jace meant to say at all, but he opened his mouth and the words just came tumbling out.

Simon’s let out a soft huff of laughter. “No.” He shook his head. “It’s, uh. It’s not about Clary.”

Jace didn’t understand what was so funny, but he wasn’t going to ask. Just like he wasn’t going to ask who the song was about. Wasn’t going to think about why he cared so much.

“She was my first love, too,” he said instead.

Simon nodded slowly, digesting this information. “I wondered. I mean, when Clary used to talk about you, it sure sounded like you loved her, but once I found out you were, you know, you, I wasn’t so sure anymore.” He was fiddling with the ring, now, twisting it slowly around his finger with his thumb. Jace wondered if he knew he was doing it. “I didn’t think you were a relationship kind of guy.”

“I’m not.” That wasn’t what anyone wanted from him. Even Clary, who really had loved him once upon a time, hadn’t wanted him to stay. And even if someone did want that from him, he was pretty sure now that he wouldn’t know how to give it to them.

“And there hasn’t been anyone since Clary who’s made you reconsider?” Simon’s hands were still on the steering wheel now, his face impassive in the flickering light of passing cars.

Jace thought back to that night weeks ago, when Simon told him that maybe they wouldn’t be a mistake, and just for a second he’d thought—he’d hoped—but of course that wasn’t what Simon had meant.

“No.”

“Of course not. Stupid question.” Simon flashed him a smile, but there was a worried crease between his brows.

The last thing Jace wanted from him was pity, especially over this. “So, tell me about the llamas,” he said, desperate to change the subject.

Simon winced. “Can we just pretend Becky never mentioned llamas?”

“Nope.” Jace grinned. “If you don’t tell me, I’ll get Maia to ask Becky. I’m sure your sister would be happy to share.”

“You’re seriously the worst,” Simon said before launching into a long, involved story about his and Clary’s third grade trip to a llama farm and how Becky had thought it was hilarious to tell them that llamas were venomous.

“So, there I was, just covered in llama spit,” Simon finished as he unlocked their apartment door, “crying my eyes out because I thought was going to die, with Clary shouting at the poor farmhand that her dad was cop and he was going to go to jail for murder. And of course Becky didn’t even get in trouble or apologize. She just started getting me llama-themed birthday gifts.”

“Just so we’re absolutely clear,” Jace snickered, following him inside, “I’m laughing at you, not with you.”

“Which is one of many reasons I should have known better than to let you meet my sister. Speaking of which,” he pulled Jace’s ring off his finger and held it out, “I wouldn’t want to forget to give this back.”

Jace looked at the ring, then back up at Simon, swallowing hard. “You should keep it. Until we break up.” Something flashed in Simon’s eyes, and Jace hurried to correct himself. “Until we tell our families we broke up, I mean. In case you need to, I don’t know, sell the story.”

“Jace, I know what this ring means to you. I can’t just—”

“You can.” He reached out and closed Simon’s fingers over the ring, holding them there. “I trust you to keep it safe.”

Simon stared at him for a long moment, eyes searching. “Okay,” he agreed. “Until we break up.”

Something in Jace’s chest loosened, and he stepped back, letting Simon’s hand drop from his. “Cool. I’m gonna heat up some pizza rolls. You want me to make enough for you?”

“Sure,” Simon said. “Yeah, pizza rolls sound great. Cheeseburger flavor, not triple cheese, though.”

“Obviously,” Jace said, heading to the kitchen. He didn’t think about the ring, or how naked his hand felt without it. Or why it mattered so much to him that Simon agreed to keep it, if only for a little while.

#shadowhunters #shmb2021 #jimon #jimon fic #jace wayland #simon lewis

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dayas · 5 years ago

Text

The video Jordan (alphinias) shared wouldn’t leave me alone so... please enjoy a mini jiara short via my tired brain with a splash of procrastination! Also forewarning this literally doesn’t make any sense so... I apologize for that 😂

—

This is a fucked up plan. Even for JJ. And when the daredevil Maybank himself thinks something is fucked up, that means it really is.

They’d only planned for Kie to be down in the sewers for two minutes. John B and Sarah had confirmed they were alive, and after they’d all stopped freaking out from across two burner phones, the remaining Pogues were given a few simple instructions to help get everything ready to bring back the gold. While JB and Sarah worked it from their end, JJ, Kiara, and Pope were going to step up and help out from theirs. They needed something to flood the sewer system as a distraction, so the local police would be occupied with that mess instead of a risky gold delivery plan. It was shotty at best, a half baked distraction, but they thrived on chaos and thinking on their feet, so surely this wasn’t the worst thing that could happen.

Originally, JJ was the one to volunteer. It made sense; if anyone caught him, he’d take the fall in a heartbeat so his friends could keep on living their lives as they were supposed to. Never mind the fact that he still needed to pay restitution, and that if he went back behind bars one more time, he’d probably be shipped to the mainland. Pope had too much to lose; it was a miracle he was helping them at all. So they figured he could be a good lookout. Considering what they’d all cost him already, nobody would be mad if he bailed. Of course Kie was going to be involved; she was the one to actually come up with the plan. After spitballing ideas and shooting down the bad ones with grumbles of, “Seriously, dumbass? This is gold on the line,” and “We’re not ducking doing that. No way. We’re not fucking doing that,” she finally came up with the concept of causing a flood as a distraction. They couldn’t get to the entire island’s system, but that didn’t matter as long as they messed up enough of the sewers to get the majority of the police force out to investigate.

They got the necessary tools and supplies from around their houses and met back at the Chateau before heading out to where they were supposed to kick off their plan. JJ, Pope, and Kie pulled the grate up, and JJ tried to slip in, but his shoulders got stuck on the way down.

“Move,” Kiara mumbled to him, helping him out with Pope’s assistance, “I’ll go in.”

“You sure, Kie?” JJ asked, trying as hard as he could not to let the concern flickering in his eyes show.

“Yeah,” she nodded, giving him what he assumed she thought was a confident smile. She slipped down into the grate, stopping herself just before she needed to let go. Her elbows were against the pavement surrounding them, and that fake smile wavered a little.

“Diver down,” JJ blurted out, and the flicker of a real grin ghosted across her lips before she whispered back, “Diver down.”

They resealed the grate and set the timer, which leaves them here, waiting for Kiara to resurface.

“Do you think she’s okay? She’s cutting it really close,” Pope mumbles, checking his watch and glancing surreptitiously back at the grate. JJ nods, because at this point that’s all he can do.

“Yeah, Kie’s got this. She’ll be here right on time.”

She isn’t. Thirty seconds pass, then another minute. Two minutes after that, JJ starts to worry. She’s supposed to be here by now, and they’re supposed to be getting the hell away from the scene. He can hear sirens wailing in the distance, the one positive of this suddenly shitty situation.

“Uh, guys?”

Immediately, he’s at attention, eyes snapping over to the grate as he launches himself towards it.

“We’re here,” he calls down, I’m here.

“I think the plan worked a little too well.”

Kiara’s voice is nearly drowned out by a sudden rush of water, but a scream rises above it.

“Kie!” JJ yells, and the seconds that pass before she responds are torture.

“Get me out of here!”

“Come on, Pope,” he says, frantically reaching towards the grate, “Pull!”

They pull together, heaving, shoulders and back muscles straining as Kiara vocalizes her fear through a few choice curse words and the occasional yelp.

“Shit — Shit the water’s getting higher, shit!” she yells, and the desperation begins to set in. His movements are rushed, sloppy, and Pope’s are beginning to lack true efficiency as well. Neither of them are focused on how they get her out, only that they do.

“Come on, Pope,” JJ yells again, this time throwing any dignity he has left out the window and letting the full brunt of his fear come into his voice.

Pope shakes his head, still straining under the weight of the grate, “I can’t.”

“Guys?” Kiara’s voice shakes and it tears him apart, “I can’t — ”

The same two words, and yet hers sounds as though she’s choking on water, violently cut off and away from them.

She could be drowning right now. Kiara Carrera. The same girl who gave him a friendship bracelet, even after he told her she wasn’t one of them. The same girl who taught him how to braid, who didn’t make a big deal out of his mom dying and how wrecked he was by it. Kie. The girl who patches him up and doesn’t ask questions, who calls him a dumbass and a bro and one of her best friends. The girl who gives him food at the Wreck whenever she can even though her dad disapproves, because she knows he doesn’t always know where his next meal is coming from. The girl he’s literally going out of his freaking mind for because something’s happening to her.

JJ snaps.

“Pull!” He screams, and he throws all of his energy into lifting that goddamn grate up because if they find Kie floating down in the sewers somewhere he will never recover from that. He doesn’t care that it feels like he’s tearing his arm out. He doesn’t care that the sirens are getting closer and louder. He doesn’t care that Pope is pulling harder now too, working alongside him to do this one thing. The only thing that matters is Kiara Carrera’s life.

The grate pops up and the boys stagger back as Kie gasps, drenched from head to toe in water.

“Holy shit,” she coughs, and JJ doesn’t even register the fact that he’s crushing her against him until her arms crush him back. Pope joins in, layering on top and glueing them all together. Later, JJ will think about this moment. He’ll consider his actions and her reactions way more than he wants to. Right now, he’s just thankful she’s alive. They don’t have much time; “Guys, we gotta go, like now,” is the signal from Pope that they really need to split. JJ’s hand slips, brushing his thumb across Kiara’s face as he cups it gently when they break away, just to make sure she’s still here and this isn’t some panic induced hallucination and they didn’t just lose her. Kie’s hand slips too, fingers running across his wrist with a nod. They back away at the same time, and with a look to Pope, all three of them take off.

The sirens miss them by five seconds.

JJ’s fingers burn for five more.

#jiara #jj maybank x kiara carrera #jj maybank #kiara carrera #please take writing away from me #please #obx season 2 #obx #outer banks #obx season two prediction #not really a prediction more of a take but I digress #my hand literally slipped

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rue-king · 4 years ago

Text

Family Found, Family Taken

(AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32892439)

Masterlist, Next Part

Summary: Gavin is tired, so tired. He is tired of being the bad guy, but thats just who he is he's mean and unapproachable. He can't be replaced, he just can't, work is all he has left to tie him to this world. It is the only thing that proves he's not as terrible as he feels.

But when the fancy RK900 unit walks in, along with a terrible string of murders, Gavin is pushed backwards. He can't on this way anymore, but he doesn't think he is capable of change.

This is his last chance, he is Gavin's last chance.

Warnings: cursing

Chapter 1:

Gavin Reed is a mess. A walking tragedy. Rough on every edge and totally banged up. From the scar on his nose to the little marks on his knuckles.

If the scruffy appearance and constant 5 o’clock shadow doesn’t make it obvious then the darker than night eyebags and shitty attitude certainly does.

He looks rough, but he's not a bad guy, at least not internally. He's a man who feels too much and is easily hurt, but he would rather die than ask for help or express himself. The man has more baggage than an airport.

He’s bitter and cold, almost aloof in demeanor. A rabid dog with a muzzle on at all times, marked “dangerous don’t pet” only by fault of trusting too much.

A stray, left wondering all by his lonely self fulfilling prophecy of isolation.

A grade “A” mess.

He drags his sorry ass to the Detroit Police Station everyday and works himself to the bone because that's all he knows. It’s all he is able to do in order to tune out all the thoughts that he knows will drown him.

Not a team player in the slightest, but he's certainly one of the best detectives the DPD has seen in a long time. Stupidly efficient, his brain makes connections in ways that are unparalleled by his human peers. Too bad no one in the building likes him enough to let him know it.

Another consequence of his own actions, he is an asshole and he knows it. The only person he can call a friend is Tina Chen, but even then he feels as though she could do better. They all can. He is mean and cuts people off, unapproachable and snappy. Truthfully he’s surprised she's still around.

If it wasn’t for Fowler's firm hand he’d practically live in the building, it's not like he takes breaks anyway, but alas he has a shitty apartment with two demon babies to get back to anyway.

Bright and early on a Monday morning the man, the myth, the legend himself walks his groggy ass through the doors of the DPD. The caffeine withdrawal headache already encroaches on his brain and he sports a fresh set of bandages over his abused knuckles.

He keeps his head low and heads straight for the breakroom, aiming to get a cup of the worst coffee Detroit can offer. His reputation around the office has always been less than great, but ever since the android revolution his peers have been walking on eggshells around him.

He doesn’t blame them, it's not like he tried to hide his anti-android sentiment. He huffs quietly to himself, why would he care what those assholes think about him.

He prepares his shitty coffee and walks over to his shitty desk in the shitty bullpen. He’s dramatic like that. He doesn’t bother the anticipatory itch he feels deep in his chest that eggs him on to dive straight back into work. Like a craving, a workaholic.

Days are long and hard now that there has been mass losses in employment and crime skyrocketed. Reed just has to solve it all himself. Masochist.

He sits at his desk reviewing the last notes he took at the scene of his most recent case. Double homicide, suspected breaking and entering, but nothing was stolen.

He hears loud belly laughter come from the entrance of the bullpen, in comes Hank Anderson and his sidekick Conner.

Reed glances at the clock and snorts a bit.

Won’t you look at that, Hank Anderson is early for the first time in about a thousand years.

He shakes his head, and goes back to his notes. Normally he would throw out a rude remark or two, but he simply doesn’t have the energy today so he settles for an eye roll.

He is drop dead tired. Insomnia is a bitch and he hardly has an appetite anymore.

“Good morning Detective” Conner calls in a stupidly cheery tone.

“Fuck off” Gavin mutters back, his words lacking their usual bite. He just sounds defeated, deflated.

Conner hovers for a second longer in front of Gavin's desk. A second longer than usual, too long for Gavin’s liking. He moves his head up to call Conner out, but is met with nothing but air.

Whatever.

Gavin goes back to work, shuffling lightly under his desk. He is focused on nothing. Staring blankly at his own words in front of him, unable to comprehend what he is looking at. His mind is somewhere else, caught between nowhere and here.

He looks away quickly and puts his head in his hands.

Breathe in and out. Just focus, you idiot. Focus.

He rubs his eyes harder as the frustration moves like tides within his chest.

This is an improvement from Gavin Reed, if it were a few months ago he would've just slammed his hands on his desk and stalked off to go smoke. Not that anyone cares enough to know it of course.

He breathes in deep again and sets his mind to try one more time before he swears he’ll scream or something,

“Reed! My office now!” A deep yell calls out, breaking his second of peace. Fowler, of course.

He audibly groans. He hasn’t done anything wrong so why the hell would the captain want to see him.

“Ohhh, someones in trouble~” Tina Chen calls out, she’s barely walking into the area. She’s late, again Starbucks in her hand.

Not surprised.

“Bitch” he retorts, making his way toward Fowler's office. Tina laughs lightly and blows him a mocking kiss. Gavin just rolls his eyes.

Conner and Hank rise from their work stations to start after him.

Oh great, fan-fucking-tabulous. Reed huffs some more.

He opens Fowler's door with a hard swing, his patience slips away from him quickly.

The bad buddy cop flick duo follows behind him closely. Gavin elects to stay standing, way too anxious to sit and just accept whatever shit Fowler will be throwing at him.

Hank takes a seat, the other is already taken by Conner.

He does a double take, Conner is right next to him. Two Conners?

The not Conner turns a fraction.

“The fuck is this” Gavin questions and recieves a scathing look from Fowler.

Conner shuffles quietly next to him, the movement capturing his eye as it always does. Why does he look anxious, the fuck is wrong with him.

“Reed shut up and let me speak before you go butting in, '' Fowler dictates before continuing on, “this is RK900 and he will be assigned as your new partner.”

“Are you fucking kidding me? I don’t do partners, you know this Fowler. What makes you think I need one, much less that tin can.” Reed is quick to anger, well at least he has some energy now.

Has he not been efficient enough on his own? Fowler can’t just give him some pity babysitter to fix him up like Conner did with Hank.

“You do what I tell you to do, Reed. He is top of the line and you, annoyingly enough, have the best solve rates as of now. So he goes to you.” Fowler is strong with his statements and doesn’t leave room for arguing. Which doesn’t stop Gavin.

“What the fuck! That should mean that I don't need the help of that asshole! Dump him on someone else, it doesn’t make any sense!”

“Well you better make it make sense or else you can hand your badge over, Detective.” Gavin clenches his jaw, his eyes lit with anger.

“You don’t get any special privileges Reed, especially with your disciplinary file.”

Gavin huffs again shaking his head. “Well that doesn’t explain why these two are here” he gestures to Hank and Conner wildly with his hands. He treads more lightly with his words, he’s an idiot and a dick, but he will not lose his job over something as stupid as this.

“I asked them here in case you reacted poorly to this decision, much like you did” Fowler draws.

Yeah, yeah he's disappointed, when is he not.

“Yeah, quite the show you put on there, Reed” Hank mocks.

Go back to playing house, Hank.

Reed fumes, grinding his teeth. He could be so much meaner, but he holds back. All the energy that the anger gave him rapidly left his body and he’s left with tired resentment. A cold emptiness that leaves him chilly and lacking the will to continue fighting back.

“Are we done here?” He asks in a low tone, running a hand through his already messy hair.

“Well yes-”

It doesn’t matter what came after that, Reed saw the green light to leave.

“He‘s not well, Lieutenant”

“Conner it’s…”

He walks faster, escaping the muffled voices.

He sits back at his desk and grabs for his coffee. Empty already, great. He goes to make another cup, desperately wanting to get his mind off of the shitstorm that just happened.

Every other partner Reed has ever had did not last, they just couldn’t tolerate his shitty attitude. Essentially he ran them all off, like nannys to a terrible toddler.

This one will be no different, android or not, no one can put up with him for long. At least that's how Reed reassures himself.

Before he knows it he’s back at his desk, hot coffee in his hand and an absurdly tall knock off Conner in his way.

“The fuck out of the way, tin can” Gavin grumbles not even looking up to meet RK900’s eyes.

He doesn’t move.

“Did you not fucking hear me? Are you deaf, asshole?”

He moves a fraction, and Gavin takes it with a slight shoulder check to get to his seat.

Stupid not-Conner and his ugly fucking white jacket. Was gray not terrible enough?

Another small huff to himself. He’s been doing that more and more today.

He goes back to his notes. 5 minutes has passed and not-Conner continues to stand unmoving in front of Gavin’s desk.

He tries to ignore it, but he can’t stand seeing the stark white shadow in his peripheral vision. Looming like a cage starting to close in.

“Can you not just fuckin stand there like a freak?” Gavin snaps, finally looking the RK unit in the face.

Maybe he isn’t like Connor. RK is sharp and cold with defined cheekbones and pale blue eyes. Connor is warm in demeanor and soft where RK seems impenetrable and well… intimidating.

“I am assuming that that empty desk is mine to use?”

Even his voice is different, this one is firm and lower in pitch compared to Connor’s.

Reed lags behind a beat, taking in all the information he can from what's before him. RKs suit is clean and pressed, untouched by the qualms of living. He looks shiny and brand new, but the disdain in his eyes says otherwise.

His posture is stiff and the collar on his neck more so, making RK look down with his eyes and a miniature head tilt. It makes him look condescending, physically and metaphorically looking down on him.

Gavin curls his lip, dislike drags within him. “If it gets you to fuck off than yeah, knock yourself out, tincan.”

An hour or two, or three, passes. Gavin manages to transfer his written reports onto his terminal. Using the work to blissfully tune out the presence to his right. RK900 staring blankly at the terminal with a flashing yellow light circling at his temple.

Gavin has so many questions swirling around his head, but has too big of a pride to ask them. Asking would mean being civil and he is NOT going to do that. Instead he’s elected to just simply pretend that his brand new partner doesn’t exist at all. That's all he can manage with the lack of energy he has at the moment.

Besides, it's not like his fancy new plastic counterpart is aching to talk to him anyway. He just sits there with his perfect posture in perfect silence. For once Gavin is thankful for his ability to just fall into his work, because it provides the perfect distraction.

(stay tuned for the next chapter!)

#detriot become human #gavin reed #reed900 #upgraded connor #god i love angst #angst #slow burn #enemies to lovers #i love these idiots #ao3 fanfic #ao3 writer

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tryingmybestpls · 5 years ago

Text

Run (The Mandalorian x Reader)

Pairing: The Mandalorian x Reader

Summary: The Mandalorian finds the reader in a cantina, but he isn’t the only one after her.

Rating: T

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: Violence, use of a weapon, talks of suicide, hints at abuse

A/N: I think this sucks but I just needed to write it to get it out of my system.

"And I tell him 'No I don't think you're inherently a shitty person at all, but I do think you're a fucking asshole.'." The Mandalorian hears her before he can see her, but he follows the sound of her voice and the laughter that follows the statement. He can see the top of her head and then there you are.

Y/N is sitting amongst a small crowd, perched on top of the bar. A smile is stretched out across her face. Y/N is practically the embodiment of carefree. Just seeing her is making some sort of feeling bubble up deep inside of the bounty hunter, but he quickly pushes it away. She's supposed to be on the run, staying hidden. If Mando found her, hopefully that means that other bounty others were still looking for her-Kriff.

A group of men-bounty hunters- walked in at that moment, tracking fobs in their hands. Mando sat down in a slightly hidden booth, trying not to draw any attention to himself. If she hasn't seen him yet, she'll definitely notice the men that just walked in. While part of him wanted to take down the men for her, Mando knew she was more than capable enough to do it herself.

"Hi gentlemen, are you lost?" Y/N greets happily, all attention in the room suddenly leaving her and going to the men at the door. The five men shifts in their boots. The leader, a humanoid, grins.

"I think we are exactly where we need to be Y/N Y/L/N." His voice is rough, like something is physically wrong with his vocal cords. She grins, leaning back on her hands as the men pull out blasters of various sizes and models.

"Can you at least let these lovely creatures leave this establishment before you fail at your job?" She asks, finally seeing Mando out of the corner of her eye. The woman smirks, keeping up the nonchalant act. The Mandalorian knew that she was carefully planning her attack in her mind.

"You know Mando, I think you really like watching me do all of this. That's why you like teaming up." Y/N teases as she puts restraints on a bounty that was practically double her size. The durasteel covered man only sighs in response as Y/N pushes the bounty towards the Razor Crest, walking past him. She made bounty hunting look almost effortless. If he was the best in the parsec, she was an extremely close second.

"Y/N, I just want to get the job done as efficiently as possible." The Mandalorian tried to correct her. Y/N's laugh rings out like a bell.

"Whatever you say, Tin Can."

"Fine. They got five seconds." The man announces and the patrons of the bar quickly scramble to the exits. Even the bartender abandons his alcohol. Mando, of course, stays in his seat and readies himself. She will either be straight to the point or she’ll decide to put on a show and at this point, Mando couldn’t really tell. Y/N continues to look disinterested, studying her fingernails as the men take another step closer. It's an act she uses a lot, pretending to be an idiot (although she'll tell you that she's just luring them into a false sense of security. It's Mando who says she's acting like an idiot).

"Maker, I really wish you hadn't interrupted my story. I was getting to the good part." She says as she stretches her arms over her head, a smile stretching across her face, "But this will be far more entertaining."

Mando leans back his the booth, watching as she finishes her drink. Y/N throws her glass drink at the main man's head. It shatters on impact, which gives her time to slide behind the counter. The main man stumbles, gripping his bloody forehead as the other four men started shooting their blasters where she had been sitting.

Y/N was great at what she did. The Mandalorian had worked beside her many times, usually on extremely difficult bounties that he would be barely able to handle by himself and somehow she made it look like a piece of cake. Her skills were always a topic of discussion within the Guild. Clients mainly wanted her if they wanted someone particularly ruthless.

The men stopped shooting for moment, looking around for the hidden woman. Mando couldn't see her, but she was currently holding a blaster in each hand. Y/N let out a breath that she didn't know she was holding. She listened closely, waiting a few more seconds. Y/N was extremely skilled and she knew that the longer she waited to pop up, the more comfortable they would get.

It would be like shooting porgs in a barrel.

"We don't have all day, Y/N!" One of the side men that had a shitty little mustache calls out. Y/N rolls her eyes and it's during that split second where she pops up, firing her blasters into the men. All five of them drop dead, all her shots hitting them exactly where she wanted them to. Mando was always a little surprised at how seemingly perfect her aim always was. It was almost like she was the one that has been training since childhood and not him.

"It's like they only send the shittiest hunters after me, Tin Can." She speaks up, climbing up and over the bar. Y/N walks over to the bodies, nudging one of them with her foot to make sure they were actually dead. Mando rolls his eyes under his helmet and rises from his spot. She stomped on the tracking fobs, silencing the aggravating beeps.

"They still found you." The Mandalorian responds and now it's time for Y/N to roll her eyes. That's when she heard another beeping noise. She stilled and turned to look at the Mandalorian. Her friend was standing right there, a tracking fob in his hand. A dry chuckle leaves her throat as she walks back to the bar.

"And it looks like so did you."

"I wouldn't fight you, y'know. If you were sent out after me." She tells him as she holds a cup full of some sort of alcohol to her lips. The Mandalorian tilts his head slightly at her, urging the woman to continue. Y/N takes a long sip of her drink, her eyes looking at something across the cantina.

"If you were sent after me, I wouldn't fight you, Mando. It would only draw out the inevitable." Her voice doesn't sound the same. Something is off with her, but it only lasts for a few seconds before she turns to look at him. Y/N has mischief in her eyes as she asks, "So can you still have sex, Mando? Or is it truly a "no fun creed"?"

"Who wants me dead?" Y/N asks as she pours herself a drink, now standing behind the bar. The Mandalorian walks over to her, sitting down in front of her on one of the stools. The bounty hunter pressed his lips together, watching her movements.

"You have to be brought in alive, Y/N." He informs her, knowing that it won't make much of a difference. She downs the shot, using the back of her hand to wipe off her mouth.

"Who is the client, Mando?" Y/N questions, her tone completely serious. She's glaring right into the visor, her eyes pinning him to his seat.

"Your parents." The words are heavy as they leave his mouth. Y/N's gaze softens slightly and lowers. She focuses on the empty glass in front of her like it's the most interesting thing in the galaxy. Y/N mutters a curse under her breath, shaking her head as she pours herself another drink. She immediately downs it, ignoring the way it burns all the way down her throat.

"I'd rather die than go back to them." Y/N mutters, leaning against the back of the booth. Her finger carefully traces the brim of the glass that she had finished off. Mando pretends to not be interested in the conversation even though he was intently listening.

"Didn't you live in a palace, Princess Y/N?" One of the other bounty hunters questions her, practically sneering as the blue skinned alien leans forward slightly. Y/N didn't discuss her past, but they all knew where she was from. Her family ruled on one the planets in the Inner Rim. Certainly a far greater life than anyone else in the Guild has ever had. Yet, Y/N had run away from all of it, choosing to become a bounty hunter, which had in turn cut her off completely from her family. The other bounty hunters laughed.

"My family were Empire sympathizers. They wanted to marry me off to a high ranking Moff. He was fifty cycles older than me. I needed to get out of there so I left the day of my wedding. I was sixteen." Y/N's tone was harsh and quickly silenced the laughs. She smiles, leaning forward as she asks, "What? Princess got your tongue?"

"I'm not going back to them, Mando. Not alive." Y/N tells him and she looks back at him. There's tears in her eyes and she's trembling. Y/N's scared to death. She knows that she can't beat him and Mando-Mando knows that this is going to be a fight she's going to lose. The Mandalorian watches as a tear slips out and rolls down her cheek. The Mandalorian knew that she didn’t just runaway because of an arranged marriage.

"Don't-Don't do this." Mando tries, rising in his seat as she tries to blink away more tears. His chest aches with a pain he has never felt before. Her free hand reaches out, grabbing ahold of his yellow leather glove covered hand. The way her fingers interlock with his makes his heart race, which only makes it all hurt so much more.

"It was nice knowing you, Tin Can." She says with a small smile on her face as her free hand reaches towards the blaster she left laying on the counter. The Mandalorian's movements are fast as he knocks the gun away from her hand while he still held onto her other hand. She looked at him, a mixture of emotions on her face. Y/N quickly regains composure and Mando doesn't know if that comes from her time as royalty or if it's something she picked up during bounty hunting. Mando's eyes drift back towards where their hands were still clasped together.

The Mandalorian swallows hard and grabs the tracking fob he had stored away. The bounty hunter looks down at the blinking light. He hates the fact that he even thought of turning her in, like she meant nothing to him. Without a second thought, he crushes it in his free hand. The bounty hunter doesn't know why he does it, but it feels like the right thing to do in this situation. Y/N watches as he lets the crushed metal and plastic fall to the ground before looking back at the durasteel covered man as he sits back down. Mando wonders if her gaze would be less piercing if he was covered head to toe in Beskar.

"I'm not-I'm not going to bring you in." The Mandalorian tells her, as if his actions didn’t already say that enough. The tension seems to visibly leave her body as she looks down to their hands again. Neither of them had pulled away yet, which is surprising since neither of them are big on feelings. Mando never talked about his and Y/N only did when she was incredibly intoxicated.

"What are you going to say? I bested you and ran off? It'll never work." Y/N responds, her voice is as soft as a cloud. Mando's never heard her speak like this. Her hand pulls away from his and Maker, the Mandalorian's hand has never felt so empty and heavy. Y/N walks around the bar and takes a seat on the stool beside him.

"I won't say anything. I'm not very talkative." The Mandalorian retorts and she makes a noise that sounds like a laugh, but the humor doesn't reach her eyes. Y/N wipes at her fallen tears.

"You getting soft on me, Tin Can? Seems like you're breaking a code here." She's trying to save face, acting like she wasn't holding onto his hand a minute or two ago. The Mandalorian doesn't quite know how to respond to her. He tried to ignore the fact that she had created her own little space in his head, tried to ignore the fact that Y/N was going to leave his head for some Maker forsaken reason.

So he just doesn't respond, letting the silence settle around the both of them. Neither of them were going to voice whatever they were feeling in this moment, so it was far easier to just not speak. Y/N poured herself another drink, raising it towards the Mandalorian. What comes out of her mouth wasn’t exactly what the Mandalorian was expecting her to ever say to him.

“Thank you.”

#the mandalorian x r #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal #star wars

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whitehotharlots · 4 years ago

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No more movement

Didn't feel like I was genuinely losing my mind until a few weeks ago. As much as I ragged on the "ugg 2020 is just the worst" people for confusing an arbitrary temporal distinction with the cause of our collapse, I guess I was kind of doing the same thing. All the routinization associated with measured time--the stuff that you have to have a firm grasp of, in order to not go insane in an industrialized world--has been wiped clean. There are no seasonal rituals. Nothing to look forward to. Nothing coming, nothing going. Purgatory. Numbness.

This is beyond the deeper horrors of new New Normals that have already been established. Stats-wise, we've been in a depression since 2008. We did not receive relief after the 08 crash, just reorganization. Things are shaping up to be much of the same this time around. First, proudly, meagre stimulus tied to massive cuts in what remains of our welfare state. Everything means tested, of course, and dispersed in the least efficient manner possible. And then a complete collapse of all labor rights under some kind of national implementation of Proposition 22. Those of us lucky enough to still be employed will simply get used to doing the work of those who have been laid off, on top of our own. No cost of living raises. No retirement.

Retirement, especially, is now antiquated. Retirement leans on a clear and shared understanding of temporal progression. Since there's no more time, only stagnation, it's simply insensible to assume you should be allowed live once you are no longer useful to an agency that can employ you. It is, dare I say, very privileged. Expecting basic human decency is the curse of whiteness, and your desire for a marginally less cruel world is proof of how evil and stupid you must be.

All this would be much more tolerable if there was some means of coming together, some human connection, some realms of enjoyment. But they're working overtime to eliminate even these small comforts. We're not gonna demilitarize. We're not gonna get healthcare. The criminal justice system will not be reigned in. We are all still going to be treated like the disposal sacks of meat we are.

But, also, no more jokes. No more irreverence. Free speech is a white, western lie that is somehow directly responsible for all the world's evils. If there's one thing we learned from Trump, it's that democracy and untrammeled communication are both very dangerous. You let people think for themselves, you lose the ability to control everything. A--and that's when things get bad, when the people in charge feel like they're not as in charge as they'd like to be. That's why we need more filters, more censorship, more surveillance, more control. And by we I mean law enforcement and silicon valley, who are the good guys even though they are white supremacist cis-normative colonialists. We need them to be more powerful because otherwise someone who is not presently in charge might get to be in charge and that would be bad.

None of this is to say that Trump was good. He is a thoroughly monstrous human being and was a shitty president. His voters, for the most part, are just as paranoid and illiterate as Biden's. That's the shared experience of the 21st Century American voter: taking vicious, violent pride in the accomplishments of one of two parties that are absolutely nothing like what you imagine them to be.

What I'm getting as is that the Bread and Circuses of the American experience are at a point where the bread is vanishing and the circuses are focus-grouped superhero movies about empowered women you have to pretend to like or else you'll get fired. All the piddling enjoyment that allowed us to tolerate life in this evil country is being ripped away from us, and in exchange we're not getting a single goddamn shred of progress.

Because progress is a linear concept. Progress, like existence, requires movement. We're beyond that.

Maybe the most annoying aspect of this summer's BLM riots was that people were violently demanding stasis but doing so in the language of revolution. This was proven most starkly in Seattle's so-called Capitol Hill Autonomous Zone, whose purveyors claimed to be fostering an environment of "radical safety" that nonetheless quickly replicated the horrors they were claiming to protest. This radical safety required the presence of heavily armed and trigger happy guards, and these guards killed 3 young black men in the course of just a couple of weeks. But this was still revolutionary, we are told, while the QAnon morons who invaded the DC capitol were revanchist. The end result was always going to be the same. The only difference was in the aesthetics of who got to hold to guns.

Forget leftism. We don’t even have liberalism anymore. Our political landscape is the choice between two parties dedicated solely to the preservation of the existing orders. They squabble only in regards to their personal placement within these orders. This is not a country but a conservatorship, and all you and I can do is sit back and see which group of violent, mean-spirited assholes happens to come out on top.

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anika-ann · 5 years ago

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Hands Too Cold, but Heart of Gold - Pt.3

The Mission

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader, Matt Murdock x reader (no SR x MM x r)

Word count: 2700

Summary: Avenger!reader AU, love triangle. Mission in progress; You’re going in. Spoiler alert: it goes about as well as Steve expected.

Warnings: violence, blood, swearing, banter, unconsensual drug use (kinda?), injury

Story Mastelist

────── ·❆· ──────

“Alright, guys. We’re clear about everything? I’m coming in first, opening the door for you. Natasha, you’re with Clint, you’re going after Vasiliev and intel. Frosty and Daredevil are onto the girls and their guards. Tony, try to get to the basement level, I’ll join you as soon as possible. Questions?”

“Won’t Secretary Davis be pissed about Frostbite coming to save his daughter instead of Captain America?” you noted, a bit annoyed that you actually had to ask that question. You couldn’t care less and you were actually fine with your task, but… sadly, this was politics too, not just a rescue mission.

Steve sighed. “I’m the leader of the mission. I’ll be everywhere, that has to be enough.”

“What’s in the basement?” Clint questioned and you could see a shadow of worry covering Steve’s face as he put on his helmet.

“I don’t know. And I don’t like it. That’s why I’m sending the least vulnerable people there.”

You gulped, chill running down your spine. You didn’t like they should be going there just the two of them. “You should wait for us.”

Steve shook his head. “Can’t do. If there are weapons the guards can use against you, we need to secure them.”

“Goddammit, Steve! You told me-“

“You have your orders, Frosty. Follow them. You know this distribution of resources makes sense as it is,” he shut you down, his blue eyes piercing yours in warning.

You knew he had told you something he didn’t want to tell the others and you shouldn’t have pulled it out. But you trusted his instincts and you felt like this was the source of his concerns and the others should know that.

You raised your chin, crossing the short distance between you and the Captain.

“You don’t go there alone. You stay with Tony.” He escaped you gaze and you grabbed his forearm. “Steve.”

He looked back at you, his eyes burning with honesty. “Same goes to you, Snowflake. Everyone. Don’t do anything on your own. We’re a team. Don’t forget that.”

As if someone could ever forget being a teammate to any of you – you were all a bit too special for that. But you could see what he meant.

The team nodded in agreement, gradually leaving the jet. They ‘parked’ it about a mile from the building Tony had located the girls in, nothing but woods around you. You kinda envied Tony his suit – what you wouldn’t give for a flying suit to avoid the running right now. Or any time, really.

Alright, stop whining. Let’s do this.

────── ·❆· ──────

You hated Steve sneaking in alone, but he was your best shot; he could be the most subtle apart from Natasha, who lacked the super-strength needed for breaking the locks. You could have frozen the locks, made them fragile and broken them easily, but Steve was better at hand-to-hand combat, which allowed him to get rid of the guards. Also, his body was less vulnerable. You agreed with Steve being the best choice; however, that didn’t mean you liked it.

When he opened the back entrance for you, you couldn’t supress the wave of relief; he seemed unharmed. It was ridiculous, because the mission barely started, but you hoped that from now on, he wouldn’t be alone.

“The hostages are in the west wing of the building,” Tony’s voice sounded in your ear and you nodded, glancing at Steve one more time. He smiled at you warmly before taking off.

“Stay safe,” you murmured as if he could hear you.

“Let’s go,” the Devil encouraged you softly and you both broke into a jog. Time to save some sorry asses.

The Devil turned out to be a good partner in crime – he always stopped you before taking a turn, warning you when someone was close, which gave you enough time to prepare yourself and won you the element of surprise. Also, he totally kicked ass; so far you had had the opportunity to see him in action once, because your own opponent had already been knocked out, and if you would say you didn’t forget how to breathe when seeing his quick sharp blows, you would be lying through your teeth.

“You okay?” he had asked you then and you had just shaken your head to snap from your trance and beckoned to him to move.

And then there was the door. The door, because Daredevil tilted his head to side, his hand on your forearm to pull you closer.

“Fifteen heartbeats. Four of them younger and scared. That’s our girls,” he whispered almost soundlessly into your ear and you bit your lip, nodding in acknowledgement.

“Weapons?”

“Few riffles.” His jaw tightened. “Probably knives, it’s hard to tell. There is no wood or water in the room as far as I can tell, but there’s lots of metal, the sound is bouncing off it – I think the girls are on the floor, leaning their backs against it.”

You stared, awe-struck, forgetting to try to imagine the picture he was drawing for you; instead, you were watching him as he had a look of the highest concentration on his half-face.

“You okay?”

You blinked, waking up once more. Jesus, get a hold of yourself, loser. “Yeah, sorry. Just… it’s incredible.” He seemed puzzled. “What you can do.”

A brief smile raised the corners of his lips. “Thanks. Not too bad yourself. Work your magic.”

You obeyed, touching the round doorknob, its metal immediately covering in a layer of ice and spreading to the whole door – its temperature dropped enough for the molecular structure to change.

Daredevil spared one more glance at you and the two of you simultaneously kicked out; the door shattered as if it was made of thin glass.

All hell broke loose. You barely managed to disarm two shooters by icing their weapons before a spray of bullets rained your way and you had to take cover behind one of the metal cabinets, the Devil throwing his billy clubs and disarming two others while knocking one out.

“I’m icing the main alley, you okay with that?” you hissed over the distance and he immediately nodded.

Your hand hit the floor, sending a thick belt of ice down the route – to your satisfaction, you could hear the gunmen curse and few of them went down with a thud and blind gunfire to the ceiling as they slipped.

A second later, the path was clear of ice, the distraction allowing you to attack again while the Devil sneaked into one of the smaller alleys, surprising the men from behind.

Freezing their hands was the priority; the weapons fell on the ground one after another. Unfortunately, that also meant the men went after you and they were really pissed. The ones who could still handle to carry some kind of a weapon switched to blades; Daredevil had been right.

You did your best to fight off everyone who came at you, using an icicle through their limbs when necessary. It was a method far from your favourite, but it was efficient when needed.

The floor was quickly covering in a layer of bodies of unconscious men. It took them a while to realize that their buddies were being attacked from behind by Daredevil – idiots, lots of them.

Receiving a kick to you lower back sending you into a cabinet, making your belly meet the edge, put you into the category of idiots too.

Shit, how had you missed this one? You quickly turned, still leaning onto the cabinet and blocked his lunge by kicking his stomach, making him stumble backwards. Next thing he knew, he was frozen to the wall and you punched him unconscious.

You spun on your heels to look for another opponent, ducking on instinct – a second later, a knife was sticking out of the wall in the same level your head had been.

A crack echoed in the room, followed by an agonized scream. Your gaze shot in that direction immediately, seeing the Devil cracking a guy’s wrist and dislocating his shoulder. You winced. With the man being the last one standing, you only guessed he had been the one to throw the knife. And Daredevil just elbowed his face, his own teeth barred in a savage grin which only a fool would call a smile. The man fell to the ground.

“Remind me to not to piss you off. Ever,” you panted, approaching Daredevil’s masked figure. His hands were clenched in fists, his chest rising and falling rapidly, but he seemed fine. He snapped his head higher to face you better, his posture relaxing just slightly.

“Same goes to you,” he beckoned to one of the bastards who had their thigh stabbed with an icicle, impressively big even for you.

“Didn’t have the time to be gentle.”

“Incoming. Six more men. Fair sharing? Four for me, two for you?”

You gaped at him, not sure if he was kidding or not. The smug was so evident even on his half-face and you just couldn’t-

“Wipe that smirk off!” you hissed at him, laughing, spinning to the girl who didn’t get the memo and hadn’t hid yet. “Go to the corner, take cover. Things might get messy again. Anyone hurt?”

You took the zero response as a no. Devil confirmed your theory. Because of course he would know. He knew fucking everything.

“Which door?”

Daredevil beckoned to the one that were still in place. You grinned, creating a layer of black ice right away. They deserved a proper welcome. Daredevil gathered his weapons and prepared himself too.

Three fingers on Devil’s hand raised.

Two.

Now you could hear the gunmen too.

One.

You hit the ground with your palm once more and let the black ice spread under edge of the door too – they threw it open with their balance already shitty. You and your partner used the advantage immediately. They were disarmed before they even realized what was happening.

The Devil was right in the end – you only got stuck with two opponents, the thugs probably assuming you were the lesser problem. Sweet summer children… the winter is coming, bitches.

By the time you were done with yours, Daredevil was still fighting two of his own, one of them just throwing himself on the armoured figure; you quickly created ice for his feet to be stuck in. He almost lost his balance from the momentum with his feet suddenly disabled. The Devil sent the other man down with a powerful hook, soon elbowing the one standing pretty much frozen behind him to his face. The man lost consciousness immediately, his body going limp; you released his feet.

“Thanks,” the Devil called out and you spent one precious moment shooting him a smile. A second later, his billy club flew inches from your face, successfully taking down a guy behind you that you apparently hadn’t knocked out properly.

“Thanks,” you parroted, your smile faltering. Sloppy.

“That’s why we’re partners, right?”

For a second, you lost yourself in the lopsided grin he gave you. Shit. You heart. His smile widened.

“Get a room,” one of the girls whined and you snapped from your trance, squatting to her to untie her hands. “Thanks.”

“Fuck,” Natasha cursed in your earpiece and you tensed. Had not everything gone as smooth as with you and DD? “Steve, get out of there. NOW.”

Your heart must have stopped that second; she sounded as if she was panicking. Natasha Romanoff never panicked.

“What is it, Romanoff?” Steve asked lowly, a little out of breath. You could hear him fighting and your feet itched to get to the basement. But someone had to stay with the hostages.

“I’ll go,” Devil whispered, brushing your arm and you wordlessly pleaded him to rush. He disappeared in the doorway.

“Just get out! It’s a set up. They’re experimenting, developing an antidote to the serum that-”

She was cut off by gunshot and you sprang to the door as well.

“Stay in position, Gerda! I’m heading his direction,” Devil’s voice sounded in your ear and you had no doubt he was talking to you. You forced your feet to stop, gritting your teeth. If you weren’t so on edge, you might appreciate the nickname he had come up with.

“Steve, run,” you ordered adamantly, silently praying and absently checking on the four girls in the room. They were just bait. Vasiliev knew that taking Secretary’s daughter was a way to get Captain America here. Fucking shit.

Come on, Steve, don’t be a dick, don’t play hero and just get your ass out of there. It’s over anyw-

Three more men burst into your room. Shit. So much for things being over.

You didn’t worry about getting them seriously hurt now. You froze their guns first, their shocked screams echoing in the room as the icy metal gave them an immediate frostbite. Then you created a layer of black ice under their feet, their lunges in your direction ending up in their limbs tangled together. Some of them were frozen to the floor by hands, some of them by their feet, sides. You didn’t give a fuck. You knocked out all of them, stabbing one of the other goons who came back into consciousness with icicle through his forearm. He roared in agony and passed out again.

A different scream made your blood run cold.

You never heard that sound before, but you were sure as hell whom it belonged. It was Steve’s. Steve was in pain. And in horrible pain, because you had never heard him scream.

“Shit!” Tony cursed through the comms and the sound of his repulsors came next. “Romanoff, get the documents on that substance and head to the jet. I’m bringing him in and calling Banner right now.”

You barely heard him over Steve’s cries, though they were falling silent. You didn’t think that was a good sign.

And then they died out completely.

For a second, the world stopped. Everything froze as if you had blasted your energy, yet nothing went cold. No, the time itself must have frozen.

“Get out of your asses!” you yelled after the girls, startling them all. You were coming to the jet right now, all of you, because you couldn’t leave them here, but you wouldn’t worry about the goons. Others would take care of them or the clean-up squad of agents coming after. You needed to see Steve. Now. “NOW!”

The girls shrieked, but complied, stumbling to their feet.

“Move it,” you hissed. “Down the corridor, stay close so I can protect you, but for fuck’s sake move.”

You barely heard them muttering something under their breath, your pulse too loud in your ears.

Steve was hurt. Steve was probably injected with some fucking anti-serum and— you blinked away your tears. Not now. You would see him first and then came to catastrophic conclusions. Not now, not now…

The way out of the building was endless.

“Faster!”

The girls immediately did as you ordered. They were probably scared of you; you couldn’t care less. Your friend was in unbearable pain. And shit, you felt cold all over your body. You hadn’t felt that for a while.

Tony had cut himself off, so you couldn’t hear him until you stumbled into the quinjet, seeing his figure hovering over Steve’s, lying unconscious on the improvised bed. There was a hologram of Bruce’s face, Natasha flipping pages for him; at your incoming, she handed the file to Tony and went to help you with the hostages.

“Stay here,” you hissed at the girls, pacing to the bed.

Steve’s back arched, his body in spasm and you gasped, reaching for him.

“Don’t touch him now, let it be.”

“You’re kidding right?!”

“He’s right, convulsing person shouldn’t be held down-“

“Read you fucking files, Bruce!” you shot back, but clenched your hands in fists to stop yourself from touching Steve. You vision blurred.

“Hey, cool it, Elsa!” Tony snapped at you, trying to make a sense of the files as well. “We’re trying! You have a Ph.D. you haven’t mentioned ye-“

“That’s it,” Bruce called out, astonished. “She needs to cool him down until you get him to me!”

Glares of everyone in the room locked you in. You tensed, horrified at the suggestion.

“You want me to WHAT?!”

────── ·❆· ──────

Part 4

────── ·❆· ──────

Tags: @mermaidxatxheart, @murdermornings, @elisaa-shelby

As always; anyone wishes to be added/removed, shoot me an ask or a message.

Thank you for reading!

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sylvanfreckles · 4 years ago

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Impaled (FebuWhump 04)

I had an extremely crappy day at work today...like coming home crying level crappy. So, as a defense mechanism, this came out. Granted, it was always going to be a slightly humorous take on this scenario, but this went a little...extreme.

You can also read this on AO3

Fandom: Supernatural Summary: Who would have thought, in the end, it would be vampire clowns in a busted-up barn in the middle of nowhere?

Not the Winchesters, that's for certain.

And certainly not Castiel, who did not get resurrected again just to die at the hands of a monster with a fourteen-year grudge.

* * *

After everything..after Chuck and Free Will and rewriting their own lives...it all came down to this.

A musty old barn in the ass-crack of nowhere, facing down a gang of vampires of all things.

“So, what, now's when we find out Gordon isn't actually dead?” Dean muttered, standing back-to-back with Sam. “Or, ah, what's-her-name...the hippie one who only ate cows. Think she's here?”

“We watched Lenore die,” Sam reminded him. “And I killed Gordon. I don't think this is either of them.”

“Yeah, unless Chuck brought them back,” Dean shot back. “Cas?”

Castiel, who had been silently and efficiently dispatching vampires turned back at Dean's question. “I find it unlikely Chuck would have considered either of them important enough to bring back from Purgatory.” Another vampire roared up behind him, and without even looking Cas stabbed him through the throat with his angel blade.

Dean had to admit, the flutter of Cas's new calf-length trench coat was pretty impressive as the angel spun around to yank his blade from one vampire and plunge it into another. Jack had apparently hooked his adoptive father up with some new duds on his return from the Empty, so Cas wasn't exactly rocking the whole “holy tax accountant” look anymore.

On the one hand, the long black trench coat was absolutely badass. The way it spun around Cas as he moved in battle reminded Dean of the shadows of wings cast on the barn ceiling all those years ago, and it had a much more stylish cut that emphasized the muscle on the angel's powerful frame.

On the other...the rainbow-colored sweater vest was a little much. But the combination was something that was just so essentially Jack they really couldn't complain.

“Dean!”

Pulled out of his daydreams by his brother's warning scream, Dean managed to deflect an incoming vampire and roll out of the way, narrowly avoiding the dangerous-looking nail that was poking up out of one of the support beams. Damn, they really needed to stop confronting vampires in fallen-down old barns.

Cas hauled him to his feet and manhandled him to one side, a blast of holy power from his other hand obliterating yet another vampire clown. “How many more are there?” the angel shouted over the sounds of battle.

“They just keep coming,” Sam panted. They were cornered now—Cas's angel blade was still embedded in a vampire a few feet away, Dean's machete had gotten notched when it had gotten stuck on a particularly dense vampire spine, and Sam was favoring his right arm as though chopping off so many heads in such a short amount of time was giving some kind of hunter's carpal tunnel. “Are we sure...I mean, is Chuck really de-powered?”

“You think he planned for one of us to die in some shitty barn in the middle of nowhere?” Dean scoffed. “Dude. The man's a hack, but he's not that bad.”

“Enough!” A fourth voice—because, really, the vampire clowns had done nothing but snarl since the Winchesters had busted down the door—cut through the air as another figure strode into the center of the barn.

It was, predictably, another vampire. This one was obviously the boss, judging by the way she was dressed—halter top and jeans instead of baggy clothes and a clown mask. Seriously, why clowns? Was someone trying to make this place Sam's worst nightmare?

“Well, well. If it isn't the Winchesters.” The woman flipped a lock of long, dark hair back over her shoulder. “I'm sure you're surprised to see me.”

Dean stared at her for a moment then glanced over at his brother. Sam shrugged. “Right,” Dean said after a few seconds. “You're...the Ringmaster!”

Sam let out a groan and stumbled back to lean against the wall of the barn. Dean couldn't see much of Cas's face but the angel's body was radiating out disappointment. “Come on,” Dean protested. “Clowns? The circus?”

“Enough!” the woman snapped again. “You killed my entire clan fourteen years ago. I've waited a long time for this day, when my new clan would find the Winchesters and we would put an end to them!”

Dean let his gaze travel up and down the woman's body again. She was still familiar, but that wasn't really enough to jog his memory. “Sweetheart, you're gonna have to be way more specific than that. Fourteen years is a long time.”

Cas shot him a dirty look—though whether it was over the sweetheart comment or Dean's snarky tone of voice he couldn't tell.

The woman hissed in anger. “Jenny? I had been chosen to join Luther's clan? You kidnapped his mate, Kate? Killed all of them to get your father and your precious Colt back?”

Dean sucked in a breath through his teeth. Oh, right, he remembered her now...not that she needed to know that. “Sorry. Doesn't ring a bell.”

Jenny gave a shriek and charged toward him. Cas intercepted, easily turning her momentum against her. Sam charged in, the machete in his left hand now, easily cutting through the seemingly endless swarm of vampires.

With a rueful glance at his ruined machete, Dean took up a position to cover Cas's flank. Maybe he couldn't charge back into battle like Sam, but he could at least keep the small fry off the angel's back.

“This reminds me of the place we first met, Cas,” Dean called over his shoulder.

Cas grunted. “Hell was nothing like this, Dean. This barn has no resemblance to Alistair's pit.”

“What?” Dean shook his head. Right, sometimes he forgot about the whole raised-you-from-perdition thing. Maybe he needed to get that handprint tattooed back on or something...if he could face Sammy's teasing. “No, I meant the barn, man. Where I tried to shoot you.”

With a twist of his hips Cas flipped Jenny onto her back and wrapped one hand around her throat. “You also stabbed me,” he retorted. He was on limited power while he was on earth, but he had enough juice to burn Jenny out of existence.

“Still. Memories.”

There was a ragged cry from one of the vampire clowns—one of the few Sam hadn't managed to decapitate in the last five minutes (really, their heads just popped right off if you got the angle right...his high school history teacher had been so wrong). The vampire charged at Cas and the angel wasn't quite able to defend himself before he was driven back against one of the barn's support posts. Dean shouted a curse at the vampire and took a swing at his head.

The machete stuck. Dean swore and tugged it free, then swung again. The vampire went down, but it took a few more blows before he finally managed to separate the head from the body. “Dammit,” he swore, wiping his forehead on his sleeve. “Sammy?”

“Forty-seven,” Sam panted. He was doubled over, hands on his knees. “That was forty-seven vampire clowns. What the hell is happening?”

“Maybe Chuck's still in charge,” Dean theorized. “Cas?”

The angel grunted. Dean twisted around to see Cas staring down at his own chest, then the angel slowly peeled back one lapel of his trench coat. “Oh. I've been impaled.”

It was the rusty bar Dean had narrowly avoided earlier. It was longer than he'd thought, and the tip was poking out of Cas's chest right below his heart. “Cas?”

“I'm all right,” Cas reassured him, though the spray of blood he coughed up wasn't very reassuring.

“Oh god,” Sam fisted both hands in his hair. “Wh-what do we do? Should we call Jack? Do you need an ambulance? Or, wait, a spell? Maybe, maybe there's something in the car...”

“Sam, this is nothing,” Cas protested. He gripped the bar with one hand, frowning a little when he wasn't able to push himself free. “Though I could use some assistance.”

“No-no-no-no!” Sam waved his hands frantically. He'd pulled a bandanna out of...somewhere...and was trying to put pressure on the wound around the rusty bar. “We'll just...we can control the bleeding, and-and Dean can call an ambulance, and they can take care of you at the hospital.”

“Sam...”

“I didn't even get to say good-bye last time,” Sam whispered.

Ouch. Damn. Dean felt that one, right in his gut. That spurred him to action. “Hey, it's okay,” he said, quietly. He placed a hand on one of Sam's arms and leaned in closer to study the wound. “You said it's not bad? 'Cause I'm pretty sure some of that's supposed to be on the inside.”

Cas coughed and the wound gurgled as he sucked in a breath. “It would be a fatal wound if I were human,” he admitted. “But it cannot kill me. It is merely...uncomfortable.”

“There, see?” Dean knocked his shoulder against Sam's. He was worried, too...he would never get used to seeing Cas injured, no matter how long they were together. Especially not since the angel always tended to get the more...dramatic injuries. Like now, Sam and Dean were coming out of the fight with barely a scratch between them, while Cas had been impaled on a piece of rusty metal.

The absurdity of the situation finally struck Dean. The piles of dead vampire clowns. The woman from their past, who had apparently been planning revenge for fourteen years even though they hadn't even remembered her name.

And, most of all, their badass angel-of-the-lord (even if the lord in question at the moment was their adopted kid) in his rainbow sweater vest and badass trench coat staring down at the metal protruding from his chest like it was personally offending him.

Oh. I've been impaled.

He couldn't help it. He burst out laughing.

Sam turned, scandalized. Cas looked on with resigned amusement.

“He-he just,” Dean wheezed. “Like that snowman...just...”

Cas gave a long-suffering sigh and gripped the piece of metal in one hand. With a mighty twist it broke away from the barn's support beam, and with another wrench Cas had pulled it free from his body and dropped it to the floor. His legs buckled beneath him, but Sam caught him and eased him down, that ever-present bandanna pressed to the wound in Cas's chest.

“Oh man...it's gonna be okay, Cas. We'll...we'll figure this out.”

“Dude,” Dean staggered over to kneel next to them, tears of laughter running down his face. “He's fine, just...just let it go.”

“Stop quoting Frozen and put your hand here!” Sam snapped, yanking Dean closer. “We need to stop the bleeding!”

Cas just stared at them patiently while Sam rocked up to his knees to apply more pressure to his wound. Dean tried to help, he really did, but the entire situation was just spiraling too far out of control. If Chuck really was still writing their lives he'd obviously gone insane.

Sam peeled the bandanna back to check Cas's wound and there was...nothing. Just the smooth, colorful knit of his rainbow-colored sweater vest. Even the blood stains were gone, as though Cas had never been injured.

With a relieved sigh, Sam sank back onto his heels. Cas pushed himself up on his elbows, idly brushing at the straw that was sticking to his trench coat. Dean picked up the rusty piece of iron that had impaled Cas and flung it across the barn.

“Not today, Chuck!” he hollered after it. “No one's dying in some shitty barn in the middle of nowhere, you hear me?”

There was a companionable silence for a moment, then Sam suddenly shot to his feet and looked around. “We forgot about the kids!”

* * *

Jack sees his father both as a badass unstoppable force, and as the caring dad who always has time for him. Thus, when designing his wardrobe for his current resurrection, he went with the odd combination of cuddly rainbow vest and Neo-style trench coat. Oddly enough, it suits Cas more than anything else he's ever worn.

#supernatural #fic #fanfic #febuwhump #febuwhumpday4 #impaled #castiel #dean winchester #sam winchester #destiel #castiel and dean and sam friendship #jenny #vampires #episode fix-it: s15e20 Carry On #cas in a black trench coat #dean watches frozen #attempt at humor #hurt/comfort #there is one emotional punch moment

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fandomn00blr · 5 years ago

Note

What does Marian’s household look like physically and what is the vibe? How are Fenris and Anders getting along, being married to the same woman? Do the kiddos look obviously like/take after one of them or the other? How do the 3 of them divide parental duties? -Your secret Palentine!

Thank you, Secret Palentine!

Ah, domestic fenhanders <3…oh hang on! Let me find a thing I wrote and have never shared that hopefully addresses most of these (except what Malcolm looks like…the short answer is: Fenris, but with Hawke’s turquoise eyes and dark hair, non-canonical slightly pointed ears and all). This is from…the distant future (post-Inquisitionish), and they are living (quickly outgrowing) the cottage core dream in Ferelden, just outside of the Brecilian Forest near Denerim.

Under a cut, because it ended up being super long…

“We have enough elfroot to heal an entire army, Anders. Why do you keep planting more?”

Hawke hated harvesting the stuff and unlike Anders, she preferred not to think about all the situations they could possibly find themselves in which might require such a quantity of the healing herb.

Fenris, on the other hand, had come to appreciate the work of tending to their family herb and vegetable gardens…it was like meditation to him, so long as Hawke was far enough away that her cursing could be tuned out, or the children, working and playing alongside him, weren’t intent on asking too many questions. Or Anders wasn’t chattering incessantly at him about Maker-knows-what. Luckily, Anders often managed to get out of the majority of the harvesting by keeping the children occupied. So there was usually just the matter of Hawke to worry about.

Anders laughed. “I like to plant it so that Fenris has something to do. Plus, elf…root. Geddit? Huh?”

“No.” Fenris deadpanned as he squatted back down to begin harvesting another row. “Please…explain.”

Anders stuck his tongue out at him before turning back to Hawke. “But seriously, though, there’s no such thing as too much elfroot.”

“I could probably harvest it alone much more efficiently…” Fenris drawled.

“I’m helping…aren’t I?” Hawke held up a plant she’d ripped out of the ground and waved it at them before hissing and dropping it. “Maker’s balls! Why does a healing herb have such evil little pickers on it?!”

Before either of them could answer her, Leandera came running toward them from the other side of the cottage, out of breath.

“Papa! Malcolm was just practicing his magic without adult supervision!” she gasped.

“Is anything on fire or frozen or stuck in the Fade?” Fenris asked, wearily.

“Umm…no. He was just shooting sparkly things into the air. It was really pretty actually, but, but…he was using MAGIC!”

Even though she was normally very obviously Anders’ daughter, with her unruly strawberry-blonde hair and her freckles and his nose, she actually looked a lot like Fenris in this moment.

“And then when I asked him to keep doing it, he stopped.”

Ah, yes. There it was. So this was merely a revenge tattle.

Fenris sighed with a little bit of relief, eyeing Anders. This was his area of expertise, after all.

Anders leaned down, beaming close to Leandera’s face. “What kind of magic was it?”

He didn’t even try to hide his excitement, even though he was the one who had suggested the rule for their son in the first place as an attempt to demonstrate to Hawke and Fenris that he could be responsible. He was, unsurprisingly, also the least likely to enforce any consequences when the curious young mage broke it.

“I dunno. It was…bluish? Greenish? A little pink at the end? Really sparkly, though!”

“So long as there was no blood involved or reanimated corpses, it’s probably fine…right?” Hawke shrugged.

Fenris grumbled something to himself and then resumed his work with the elfroot.

“But Daddy,” Leandera whined. “You told Malcolm he wasn’t allowed to do any magic without you or another adult…”

“You’re right, of course, Lele…” Anders nodded, trying to look very serious. “I’ll go speak with him at once. And then…” he whispered, just to her, “Maybe we can make more sparkly things together for you?”

“Okay!” Leandera went skipping ahead.

Anders turned back and shrugged at Hawke and Fenris.

“Why did we ever decide to let him get involved in raising our children?” Fenris muttered.

Hawke laughed. “It was your idea! You pulled him out of the Fade! I just wanted to stay mad at him forever…”

“Oh…right. Perhaps it’s not too late to send him back.”

“I CAN STILL HEAR YOU, YOU KNOW?!” Anders called out from the other side of the cottage.

“WE MEAN WE LOVE YOU AND HAVE NO REGRETS WHATSOEVER ABOUT THE COURSE OF EVENTS THAT HAS LED US TO THIS LIFE WITH YOU!”

“I THOUGHT THAT’S WHAT I HEARD YOU SAY…”

Hawke smiled and shook her head fondly. “You just had to go and be in love with him, too, huh?”

“I truly do not regret a thing.” Fenris stood up determinedly and kissed her.

Hawke pulled slowly away, a satisfied grin across her lips as she let the familiar taste of him – citrus and metal and faint floral notes – linger. “Mmm…it hasn’t been easy, though, has it?”

“Nothing worth doing ever is.”

“Did you read that cliche bullshit in one of Varric’s books?”

“No.” He shook his head. “I believe it’s something you once said…”

“Oh shit, yeah.” She winced. “I was drunk, though, so it doesn’t really count, does it?”

“Well, I still appreciate the sentiment.”

“Ok, but like, be honest, now that Anders is out of earshot…this is excessive, right? The elfroot I mean?” She gestured out across the expansive herb garden.

There were a few stalks of embrium, and a small patch of deathroot, but their overflowing herb garden was almost entirely planted with elfroot. Their pantry and cellars were already full of it in its various dried and preserved forms, and they had enough potions to supply the entire Denerim City Guard for a month.

Fenris took a deep breath. “He worries. About you, about the children, about me. About the unsettled state of the world. And if hoarding elfroot gives him some relief or comfort in that, then I will gladly indulge him. It’s harmless, at least. Helpful, even, to have an overzealous healer for a husband…and I really don’t mind harvesting it.”

“Why are you such a better person than me?” Hawke groaned.

“I’ve lost both of you before. I won’t take either of you for granted again.”

“I don’t take you…or him…for granted!”

“I know. But you two, this family…” Fenris’ voice had gone hoarse. He tried to clear his throat, but the words wouldn’t come, only the glistening of tears in his eyes.

“I know.” Hawke pulled him into her arms before they could escape. “I love you. You make me want to be a better person. Even if I fall short of the ridiculous standards you and Anders set by example for our children.”

“I love you, too,” he murmured into her shoulder, wrapping his arms tightly around her waist.

Anders had come back around after his ‘intervention’ with Malcolm had ended in a combined fireworks display that had Leandera shrieking with glee and Malcolm smiling mischievously at him…a parenting win, he was certain.

He watched Fenris and Hawke, a warm smile on his face, not wanting to interrupt whatever tender moment they’d been having just between the two of them. He loved the quiet, steadfast way they loved each other, and he even enjoyed admiring it from a distance sometimes, as something unique and different from the ways they each loved him.

“Come here,” Hawke waved him over.

“I didn’t know if this was meant to be a group hug or if you two were having a ‘moment.’”

“We were,” Fenris huffed. “But when has that ever stopped you before?”

Anders grinned and wrapped his long lanky arms around them both. Fenris was nearly smothered between the two of them, and he feigned an obligatory amount of protest but nuzzled in against Anders’ chest far too quickly to convince anyone that he actually minded.

“Did you convince her not to kill me again?” Anders asked.

Hawke kissed Anders’ cheek as he drew in closer, a wordless ‘thank you for dealing with the children’ before her smile became more menacing. “No, but he managed to make me feel just shitty enough about myself to hold off a bit longer.”

“Ah, good.”

The three of them stood in their huddle for awhile, savoring the brief moment of peace and comfort that had settled over their often-chaotic, messy lives.

Anders finally pulled away with a sheepish grin. “I told Malcolm he could do magic tricks to entertain his sister, but that he was not allowed to aim anything directly at her and he wasn’t allowed to make any fireballs or ice blasts or Fade fists or…well, he seemed to get the idea, anyway, that he wasn’t to use any kind of combat magic or anything without one of us present.”

“Oh, well, that sounds like an easy policy to enforce with a four-year-old,” Fenris muttered, trying not to laugh.

“He’s a very precocious four-year-old!” Anders exclaimed.

“Exactly…”

“Well, at least Leandera will be sure to let us know if he violates any of these new rules,” Hawke offered as reassurance.

…

#dragon age #anon ask #secret palentine ask #fenris #hawke #anders #fenhanders #LF Hawke #malcolm asaara #leandEra fenara #hawke family #Lost and Found DA2 endgame canon divergence #long post #my secret palentine

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bapyess1r · 5 years ago

Text

Sunny Daze

WARNINGS: cursing, violence

Pairings: Elena x OC, Rafe x OC

Tags:

Chapter 16

Sunny’s POV

I woke up with the sun blinding me as it peeked through the curtains. Wincing and shielding my eyes, I turned over, wanting to cuddle the man who’d done my body right the night before. My heart sank when I saw that no one was there. But next to my head on the pillow was a napkin with two words scribbled on it. “I’m sorry.” I felt my chest begin to heave as a burning sensation boiled in me. ‘No way in hell he didn’t….’ I thought, standing up and bolting out of my room to go to Nathan’s room. I knocked on his door frantically. ‘C’mon, Nate…. tell me you didn’t….’ I thought nervously. I knocked again for a while and when he didn’t answer I lost my cool. “Mother FUCKER!” I snapped, punching the door. I began to kick the door angrily until the door next to his opened. Sully poked his head out, wincing at the bright sun.

“Sunny?! What’s wrong kid? It’s still early…” he grumbled.

“They left without me!” I hissed. “Mother FUCKER!” I exclaimed, kicking the door again.

“Shouldn’t it be plural?” Sully yawned.

“No, I know it was Sam. I know it was! He asked me to go home with Elena last night and I told him no. I promised Elena I’d look out for Nathan and that ASSHOLE-” I said storming off and he followed me with haste.

“Kid, calm down a second!” He called after me as I ran up the stairs. “Just what in the hell do ya think you’re doin’?!”

“I’m goin’ after them, that’s what. And when I get a hold of Sam, I’m gonna wring his skinny little neck!” I growled, hysterically. I was shaking all over.

“Now Sunny, wait a goddamn minute!” He yelled, grabbing hold of my wrist to stop me. I turned to look at him, just seething. “Maybe it’s a good thing they left you behind. Rafe isn’t gonna take too kindly to seeing you work with those two after you blew him off in Italy-”

“Rafe can suck a tit!” I snapped in frustration before clapping my hands in front of me to center myself. “Sully, I love you. You know I do- but I made a promise. And I intend on keeping it…” I said to him before turning to leave off again. He sighed and followed me to my room.

“And just how do you plan on getting to a remote island with no boat or no plane?” He asked me, rubbing the sleep out of his old eyes.

“I’ll figure it out.” I said, stubbornly as I gathered my clothes together and checked my own little collection of guns.

“Uh-huh. And when you get there, what exactly are you gonna do?” He asked, leaning into my doorway with his rather muscular arms folded across his toned chest.

“I will figure it out, Sully.” I sighed, shrugging off my shawl and taking my clothes in the bathroom to change. I could hear Sully enter the room from the other side and close the door.

“You’re goin’ in half cocked! You should at least have some back up, Sunny. Goin’ out there alone would be suicide!” He shouted.

“And who’s gonna go with me? You?” I asked as I pulled my green tee shirt over my torso and pulled my dark jeans up my hips. He gave an offended chuckle.

“Y’know, I’m tired of you kids thinkin’ I’m too old to kick your asses. If not me, then… why not talk to Elena?” He asked, resting his elbows on his knees.

“Elena’s not goin’.” I mumbled as I opened the door, grabbing my denim collared shirt from my bed next to where Sully sat.

“And how do you know that without even asking her?” He looked at me with a cocked brow. I looked at him a moment before going to the tv stand where I stored my guns. “Sunny… it would give an old man peace of mind….” He said softly. I sighed. I hated when he played my emotions like that.

“Fine.” I said, rolling my eyes as I shoved my feet into my boots. “I will talk to her…” I shook my head as I left the room and started for Elena’s.

I rubbed my hand down my face as I stood in front of her door. I knocked lightly, tapping my foot urgently. She opened the door with a sleepy expression on her face (one rather similar to her husband’s), her blonde hair hanging in her face. “Sunny? What’s up?” She asked me, pushing her hair back.

“They left without me.” I said to her through my teeth. My hands clenched together in an attempt to calm the storm raging in me. Her eyes widened and her brows came together as she opened the door a little wider.

“They what?” She asked in surprise before tapping her fingers on the door.

“I’m gonna go after them, Elena. Sully doesn’t want me to go alone and says that I should at least ask you….” I grumbled. She bit her lip and nodded her head in thought.

“Where are they?” She asked me, straightening her posture.

“On an island northeast of King’s Bay. Sully would be able to tell us where it is.” I said, hanging my head. She put her hands on her hips before turning into her room.

“Why tell us when he can take us?” She said going through her duffel bag to pull out some clothes. My heart skipped for a moment before speeding up any faster.

“Elena…” I said in a soft tone as I watched her change quickly.

“How soon do you think Sully can get that plane up and running?” She asked, pulling her hair up into a messy bun.

“I… maybe thirty minutes… I’ll have to ask.” I said in shock, a huge smile painting on my lips.

“Good! You got another one of those?” She asked, pointing at my gun in the holster on my hip. I smirked as I nodded. For the first time, it was going to be Elena and I braving the jungles.

The next thing I knew, I was sitting on the plane, bouncing my knee up and down nervously. Repeatedly checking my guns, I pursed my lips. “So what’s the plan here?” Sully asked as he flew the plane.

“I…. don’t have one….” I mumbled; Sully was right. I didn’t have a plan. I clenched my fist and shut my eyes tight, pressing my knuckles between my brows with a huff.

“Sunny, we’ll find them.” Elena said, putting a hand on my arm as she sat across from me. I gave a small smile, scoffing a tad. I shook my head at a loss.

“What am I gonna do, Els?” I frowned. “God only knows where they are by now…”

“We can split up. You take one end of the island, I’ll take the other-”

“Elena…” I heard Sully grumble with a hint of warning.

“Sullivan, you know it’s our best bet. Sunny is more than capable of going out there by herself.” She said holding her hand out for Sully to pass her another communications device. “We can cover more ground that way. And with you in the air, you can check in on us whenever.” I watched a Sully scratched at his mustache.

“I just want you two to know that I don’t like this one bit.” He mumbled.

“Blame it on Thing One and Two.” I joked blandly and Elena let out a giggle. Sully gave a forced chuckle and handed her the communication device. When the device was in my hands, an idea came to me. “Maybe we shouldn’t split up so soon. Let’s stick together until we find a Shoreline camp, then we can steal ourselves some 4x4s and we can split from there. That way we have guaranteed escape and a nice little selection of guns… Holy shit…” my voice trailed off as we flew by an island with a massive statue of a pirate. Elena and Sully were just as enchanted as I was. It was incredible. Then I became upset. They had discovered all of this already and Sam had taken my adventure away. I wanted to find that treasure just as much as they did. I was involved. And now I was behind, following the trail they’d set. With a sigh, I sat back in my seat. “Avery?” I asked.

“More than likely.” Elena responded. “But I don’t think the boys are here anymore...” She pointed towards a colossal cave, it’s mouth wide open like a snapping turtle or a shark… it gave me the jitters. At the base of this island were several Shoreline boats. They’d been trailing us every day since Italy. Evidently, we were the more capable treasure hunters.

“Let’s hope they didn’t leave too much of a mess for you ladies.” Sully commented before banking left to circle the island. “It’s too hot to drop you two off at the front door. I’ll have to put you on the side and make myself scarce. You’ll have enough on your plate when they see the plane.” I let out a long groan.

“We have to fight already?” I asked as I slung the artillery over my shoulder and sucked my teeth. “Might as well get it over with…” I grumbled as Sully lowered the plane to the island.

It happened just as he said. He dropped us off on the side of the island and almost as soon as his plane took off, we were met with soldiers. Elena and I took cover. With a bit of stealth and very few bullets from Elena’s handgun, we took out the small group of mercenaries and started towards their base. Shoreline was practically crawling all over the island so there actually weren’t many men guarding the post. I counted three men by the massive boat that carried all of their vehicles, two near artillery, and two near the cars.

Elena and I hid in the shrubbery, analyzing the situation. It was almost too easy to clear out this crew. More than half of them weren’t even paying attention so sneaking up on them was nothing. So far, Elena and I had gone through Shoreline smoothly. But I knew that it would be when we separated that things would get a little messy. “Sunny, watch your back. And if you find them, let me know…” she told me as we both climbed into our respective 4x4s. I nodded at her as I sat my gun in the front seat.

“No- you watch your back Elena.” I began as my grip tightened on the steering wheel. Suddenly, I was having second thoughts about us splitting up. “Y’know…. Maybe this was a shitty idea- I should go with you-”

“Sunny-”

“Nathan would literally kill me if anything ever happened to you. We could be looking out for each other…” I said cutting her off as I bounced in my seat nervously.

“Sunny, we will be fine. Both of us are strong, capable women and we get shit done. Anything those assholes can do, we can do. And more efficiently too.” Elena assured me. I pursed my lips and nodded before staring off in no particular direction, thinking of all the possible things that could go wrong. “Hey…. you still with me?” She asked me, catching my gaze.

“Yep…. I guess we should go now then.” I said starting the car.

“You drive towards the north end and I’ll take the south!” She shouted above the engines. I shot her a smile to let her know that I “wasn’t worried” and began to speed off, Elena taking off in the opposite direction.

And then there was me. I was still racking my brain, trying to think of what exactly I could say to Sam besides a giant “fuck you”. He knew I wanted to help find that treasure, he knew I needed this and he just took matters into his own hands. Matters that weren’t his to take. With a frustrated sigh, I rested my head in my hand as I drove between ruins and landscapes. I took a path that led me to driving along a few cliffs when I noticed them. Along the shoreline was ship wreckage. One big boat had a large hole blown through the side and a bunch of smaller ones around it were either destroyed and floating in the waves or crashed among the sand and rocks. ‘Holy shit guys…. what were you doing?!’ I thought as my path began to take me deeper into the jungle. That’s when I heard a loud boom and rapid gunfire in the distance. I started to panic a little bit as I sat up in my seat, driving with a bit more haste. I could only hope for now that it wasn’t Elena or Nate and Sam.

I stopped the car in a valley with rocky walls lining either side. I could hear the gunfire more clearly now above me. I climbed the walls until I found myself at the top, watching a shoot out. As I took cover to see what the commotion was all about, I saw Nathan atop some rocks in the distance, taking out a good chunk of Shoreline’s fleet. I began to assist him and take out a few mercenaries of my own, calling for my best friend’s attention but the gunfire was just too much and too loud. I watched as he got further and further away from me. I then realized that I was the only one in this fight. “Oh fuck me…” I groaned as I picked up some ammo from a dead man’s vest. I fought my way through the men as best as I could but they just kept coming in waves and I was growing tired. I’d been shot in the side. Just a graze but it was enough to annoy me. As I had come to realize my best just wasn’t enough, I found myself cornered, all guns pointed at me; there was nothing I could do about it. “Goddammit!” I hissed to myself. No one could bail me out of this one. I was alone. That’s when I heard a familiar woman’s voice.

“What the hell is all that racket?!” I heard her say. One of the mercenaries with Mohawk mullet situation gestures to his men to let her pass through as he spoke.

“We got one of them. The Spurrs girl.” He said. And my heart jumped at the sight of her. Dressed in her militant fatigues and her curls bellowing in the wind was Nadine Ross. She seemed much more comfortable in this climate than she did at the auction. But I suppose we all were. She crossed her arms and scoffed with a mischievous smile playing on her curved lips.

“Oh dear…” she mewled as she approached me.

“Seems like those Drake brothers left their little pet behind. Want me to off her?” The mercenary smirked as he stroked my cheek carefully. My stomach lurched at the contact and Nadine grabbed his wrist.

“That doesn’t mean you get to put your hands on her. Have a little respect, Orca. And no. Adler is going to want her alive.” she said to him before turning back to me. She paced in front of me, swinging her hips as she pointed a finger at me. “I remember you. You were at the auction. Rafe’s date…”

“Yup…that’s me...” I grumbled, trying my best to calm myself. She chuckled lightly as she pulled out her pistol and pointed it at me.

“Oh he’s gonna have a lovely time with you. You and these Drake brothers have caused us quite a bit of trouble. I will admit it though. I definitely underestimated you lot.”

“Meh. It happens all the time if you can believe it.” I smirked at her with sarcasm, staring at her amber colored eyes. “I never once underestimated you though. Beauty and brains is a scary good combination.” I bat my lashes at her and spoke real slow, drawing out my accent in hopes to soften her up a bit. She grinned as she leaned towards me, resting a hand on my cheek.

“Flattery will get you nowhere in your position I’m afraid. But you’re sweet.” She said to me with a pleasant expression before it rolled into annoyance and a snarl. With a swift swing, she struck my cheek with her fist and I fell to my knees, holding my jaw to make sure she hadn’t broken it. That woman could pack a punch. It left me a little light headed from the force in all honesty.

“What happened to hands off?” I asked.

“I said he couldn’t hit you. Never said a thing about me. On your feet. Relieve Ms. Spurrs of all her weapons and devices.” She commanded and two mercenaries grabbed me by my elbows and pulled me to my feet, tying my wrists behind me with a zip tie and yanking me about; several hands rubbed and prodded me, taking away my guns, my knife, and my connection to Elena. I groaned at my situation. I kept thinking what Nathan would do if he were in my position. ‘Make lame jokes until he was in a better position…’ I thought. I couldn’t do much else at this point. So I decided that I would wait and face Rafe...

“Oh please tell me you have some super fancy resort base somewhere on the island.” I said as I threw my head back. “This heat is killin’ me!” I continued talking and making witty quips to show that I was nothing to worry about as they led me to a 4x4.

“Shut it!” The man called Orca snapped, forcefully shoving me towards the open car door.

“Alright, alright- easy, dude!” I exclaimed before sliding into the seat. As he got in behind me, I watched as Nadine jumped in the front seat, pressing a button on her communication device.

“Come in, Rafe!” She said into the speaker.

“Goddamn it, Nadine, what is it now? I’m busy!” I heard his voice angrily reply on the other side. I rolled my eyes as I looked around for a moment. My gaze gravitated toward a cliff in the distance. I could see Nathan and Sam and for a small moment, I felt a bit of relief. They were okay. I panicked a little as I stared at the two intently like an idiot, hoping that maybe they’d see me if they felt eyes on them. Of course it was no use. I watched both of them arguing about something briefly before running off and gave a defeated sigh. ‘Don’t let these assholes get ahead, Natey!’ I thought as they disappeared between a rough bunch of vines.

“I’ve got a present for you. Sunny Spurrs.” She said and the line went quiet for a moment.

“Bring her to camp.” He said simply and darkly. Now I was nervous. It was time for me to stand up to yet another man.

I felt physically sick the whole drive. Another fragile male ego had been hurt and I was going to pay the price for it. I damn near wanted to cry when the car stopped at a site, Shoreline mercenaries of every kind crawling atop every ruin and all doing their part to find something valuable. The only reason I was feeling remotely confident was because I knew they were going the wrong way, checking the wrong things. ‘Idiots…’ I thought as Orca hopped out and grabbed my elbow, practically dragging me out of the 4x4. I fell onto the itchy grass with a whine as I tried to deal with the brief pain. “This shit ain’t soft, y’know!” I snapped at him as he pulled me to my feet. Nadine chuckled as she started off towards an area beneath the ruins.

“Shut your mouth and move!” He snapped as he pushed me forward.

“Alright! I’m goin’!” I yelled before following Nadine very carefully.

As we got closer to the ruin, I could see the man I dreaded to run into again; he was leaning over a desk with another man looking at a map, speaking angrily. Most likely, he still hadn’t found his way into Libertalia. My heart raced as we neared him. I had to keep my cool. I couldn’t let him get to me and I couldn’t let him catch up to the boys. When he locked eyes with Nadine, he excused the man from the area and smiled that million dollar smile before kissing her cheek. And then his eyes fell upon me. He was dressed in a black tee shirt that clung to his chest for dear life and comfortable black cargos with boots. His hair was still freshly slicked back off of his forehead, those dimples still etched into his cheeks. There were little dark circles beneath his eyes now though; as if he’d been losing sleep. Or as if he hadn’t slept at all. He seemed more agitated since I saw him last. Orca shoved me towards him and I dropped to my knees, hissing as they skidded in the dirt a little. Rafe walked before me with his arms opened wide to me.

“Well look who we have here… Sunflower Matilda Spurrs. I wondered what happened to you.” He laughs in amusement. He wagged a finger at me as his chuckles died down. He knelt down and inched closer to me, a strong hand holding my face roughly. I whimpered a bit in fear as he spoke. “You’ve got a lot of explaining to do here, baby doll…” he whispered to me darkly. I grunted as I snatched my face from his grip, huffing to calm myself. He pulled away and narrowed his eyes at me with a small smile. “I looked you up afterwards, y’know. My mistake. I should’ve looked you up beforehand.”

“Careful Rafe, you’re beginning to sound like you’re obsessed with me.” I smirked as I glared at him. He nodded as he laughed to himself, rising to his feet.

“You’ve got quite the colorful history, Ms. Spurrs.” He said, pacing in front of me with his hands posed behind his back.

“Really?! Whatcha find?” I asked, my voice dripping in sarcastic surprise.

“Well it’s nothing you don’t already know- and correct me if I’m wrong. Abandoned by your father, grew up on the streets- yada yada; Former receptionist at AIM industries until… Well, I’m sure you’re aware of the events that transpired back then.” He continued on with a shit eating grin and I eyed him carefully as he unveiled my history. “Which leads me to your big career moves: Cyberextortion, Cyberwarfare- such a bad girl you are, huh? Online harassment- you were a cyber bully?” He chuckled. I smirked and gave a shrug, staring him straight into his eyes.

“Bitch owed me money and tried to skip out on payment. Made his social life a living hell.” I said. He leaned in towards me.

“Just between us, what did you do?” He asked.

“Leaked his embarrassing nudes.” I said simply. He gave an amused dark chuckle. “I also had proof that he was a local pedophile. I told him I wouldn't go to the authorities if he paid up.” I grinned devilishly. “Of course I still gave him up.”

He stood up and clapped dramatically. “And yet she’s such a hero.” He said before his wide open palm came in contact with my cheek, busting my lip a bit. I groaned and spat out a bit of blood at his Gucci climbing boots as I looked up at him. “And now, she’s a stripper. Barely making minimum wage. Barely supporting herself! The only way you could afford to keep living was by working alongside a washed up journalist, a senile old man, and a couple of two bit thieves.” His words cut into me like a knife as he looked me in the eyes. I glared at him, trying my best to keep my anger in control.

“Eat shit, Adler-”

“Y’know what hurts the most, Sunny? I actually really liked you. I saw myself with you for a moment… Here I thought I’d found this unbelievable woman. Smart, gorgeous, funny… I was even willing to accept your stupid hillbilly hick accent.” He paced back and forth before me as he pulled on his gun, a black and silver custom glock weighing in his hand loosely. “But when that fell through, I figured maybe I just wanted a good lay. And then I find out… that you’re my competitor… and working with Nathan Drake no less!”

“You hold petty grudges like a teenage girl- has anyone ever told you that?” I quipped rather quickly. He laughed before lowering his voice.

“You’re funny. But all that bon mot isn’t gonna help you if I don’t get what I want, Ms. Spurrs.” He said to me before pushing the gun into my temple. “So where is it, Sunny?”

“What is ‘it’, Rafe-” Before I could even finish my question, he struck me again. He held my face in his hands again as he spoke.

“Where’s Libertalia?” He rephrased.

“What makes you think I know?” I retorted. He gave an exacerbated sigh as he pulled back on the safety of his gun with a click. I let out a shaky whimper as my eyes closed and he put the gun to my temple again.

“Cut the bullshit, Sunny. Where is it?” He asked me again, slowly. My hands began to shake.

“I don’t know.” I answered, almost immediately. “E-Even if I did know, I wouldn’t be able to tell you how to get there. Navigation is Nathan’s gig. He’s like Indiana Jones and I’m like a… southern, black…. much more attractive version of MacGyver, ya see.” I laughed nervously.

“So what you’re saying is that you’re absolutely useless to me and there’s no reason for you to keep breathing?” He asked darkly as he stood up again, his finger gently brushing the trigger. I was sweating bullets now. My lips quivered as I stared down the barrel of his gun. I had to keep myself alive. And unfortunately that meant giving away a bit of information. I remembered where the brothers had run off and figured that was a place to start. I hoped they had made it far enough into Libertalia by now. Even so, I’d try to stall them as best as I could. ‘Which means taking the long ways…’ I thought. I sighed before speaking.

“I… can take you part of the way… There’s a jungle path near the site we just left and I could’ve sworn I had seen Avery’s sigil on the wall right next to it….” I said, wincing at the pain surrounding my lip.

“Good. That’s a start. You can lead us there but don’t try anything stupid. My team will have you dead before you even breathe your next breath. Got that, babydoll?” He growled. I flared my nostrils as I boldly stared into his eyes.

“Yeah… I got it.” I hissed, my body shaking as multiple emotions coursed through me. A disturbingly handsome smile crept across his lips as he stood.

“Fantastic.” He said as he tucked his gun away and pulled a knife from his pocket. With a single swipe, he cut me free from the zip ties and I frowned as I massaged my now bruised wrists. “I look forward to our partnership, Sunny.”

#uncharted #uncharted 4 #sam drake #samuel drake #samuel drake x reader #uncharted x reader #sam drake fanfiction #sam drake x reader smut #sam drake smut #uncharted smut #rafe adler x oc #rafe adler #nadine ross #nathan drake #elena fisher #victor sullivan #poc oc #poc

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fandom-necromancer · 6 years ago

Text

Furniture struggle

Okay, this is a bit different to the prompts but I got inspired yesterday. This short story is based on this post by the incredible @liminalityyy! A huge shoutout for letting me use this!

Fandom: Detroit become human | Ship: Reed900

It had been a swift decision in the end. One nobody had expected keeping in mind the first few months of them working together. Hell, it had ended in screaming and curses on a good day and caused hospitalisation in the worst. Weeks of tension and everybody keeping a safety distance from their desks. But eventually they had let it fall. No one knew why exactly they stopped going at each other’s throats – it happened from one day to the next. Most speculated it was bound to a case, others betted on a hard reset on RK900 and a severe concussion with Reed. But they started working together instead of against each other and eventually even surpassed Hank and Connor in terms of work efficiency. It was as neither of them were caught individually, that people started spreading rumours again. It was never just one, the Detective or the android. You’d always get the whole package: Detective Asshole and Detective stick-up-his-ass.

So, as they both updated their address and it ended up being the same, it was no surprise the whole precinct knew it in a matter of seconds. Connor had initially found it, being updated about every change in the systems it seemed. He told Hank, Tina overheard it – and that was the end of it. One glare of Nines though and no one dared to ask questions. They were quietly observed as they gathered their documents and left early as they had taken vacation for the moving.

RK900 had deemed one week as enough. They both would work on it and he didn’t need sleep. Renovation was scheduled for the first days, setup of the essential inventory afterwards. Just enough to keep a human alive and content, the rest they could juggle somehow between working hours. It was a menacing work, scratching off the old wallpaper, putting the new one up, cleaning everything afterwards, applying lights. Nines was sure had he not already deviated he would have done so now. Gavin had helped him the first day, the second was reserved for him driving to multiple home-centres to buy some furniture for the empty house. He would send Nines pictures of everything he deemed fitting and he gave his acceptance.

In the evening Nines had finished scratching off the whole house and already started putting up new wallpaper again. It was when he finished the room that the door opened for Gavin who carried an ominous box. ‘The first shelve’, he groaned. It had to be heavy. ‘Was cheaper that way. The rest will be delivered in the next week. Should I start putting it together?’ Nines took the box from him effortlessly. ‘No. You should relax for now. Humans tend to need it. A serious design flaw, if you ask me.’ ‘Hey, tin-can you seem to forget the miracles of coffee. Where is that boost option for your kind, hmm?’ But instead of really picking a fight, he simply leaned against a dry wall and looked around. ‘You finished quite a lot. Now I feel bad about this.’ ‘You don’t have to. I assure you I would have failed at the task of finding something visually appealing and effective at the same time.’ ‘Oh, for phck’s sake! And here I was thinking you would stop with the techno-babble once you deviated. But thanks.’ ‘Seriously, take some time to relax. Maybe take a shower, your smell is distracting me with analysing prompts.’ ‘Will do, toaster. Love you too!’

Nines looked around and figured assembling the shelf would be far more interesting and diversified than gluing rolls of paper to the walls. He opened the box and laid the contents out in front of him, organising everything before he started. Then he fished the instruction manual out of the cardboard-hell and opened it. No text. Not even a hint of what to do. Some pictures, yes, but no text, nothing to help outlining a clear order except for his interpretation of stick figures and badly managed perspective. He let out a frustrated groan. He knew this was most likely done to spare the cost of translating the instructions, but seriously – there were good, free accessible translators out there.

Well, he was the most advanced android Cyberlife had ever built. Clearly, he wouldn’t have any problems following instructions a human could easily understand. They wouldn’t print manuals they themselves couldn’t understand, would they? He ran over every picture, interpreting it, comparing it to the materials at hand and started building up his own manual from the data he gathered. Then he put the instruction aside and started working.

It was rewarding seeing the shelf assemble under his hands and he could understand what fascinated humans so much in building something. After some time, Gavin came back from the shower, looked at him wide-eyed and went for his coffee. The machine had been the first thing to be installed in their new home. ��Holy shit, terminator, you are flying through this thing. You don’t even use the manual?’ ‘I saved it in my mind.’ ‘Tell me, did you phck up already?’ ‘Detective, I never fail my mission. I am not my brother.’ ‘Seriously? I always did something wrong and had to undo it in the end. Guess we found the cure for Swedish-furniture phck-ups.’

RK900 ignored him. He was only human and as much as he enjoyed being with him, as much as he could only describe him as perfect, he knew his flaws. But that was okay, even Nines himself wasn’t without them.

He stood up to lift the last board up to the top and press it into the designated holes, took a step back and admired his work. The shelf was exactly symmetrical, was stable enough to hold everything they might want to put in there and even looked… sleek. Gavin had taste. ‘Nice work, RK! I’m so phcking proud, I will boast about this everywhere. We might be the first couple to successfully assemble a shelf on the first try! Wait, I’ll clean this up first.’ He moved to gather the plastic foil and excess cardboard, inspecting the box whether it was worthy to take to his shitty apartment for his cat. As he lifted up a particular large foil something slid down on it. A small silver thing clattering as it hit the ground. Gavin got down to pick it up. ‘Hey, toaster, were there excess pieces?’ ‘No, Gavin.’ Nines was still standing in front of the shelf, testing out if the capacity lived up to its expectations. ‘Could it be that you missed a screw?’ The android froze, then turned to the man, LED red against the frame. Quickly he snatched it out of his partner’s hands and scanned it. It was indeed one of the screws that should be somewhere in there.

He felt his systems overheating as he analysed his memories and searched for the moment he failed his mission. Nothing. ‘I… I don’t understand, I did exactly as instructed. I… This shouldn’t be possible.’ Gavin looked up to his face void of any emotion except for desperation. Shit. ‘Hey, Nines, it’s okay. See?’ He gave the shelf a push and it didn’t move an inch. ‘It’s rock solid. No one cares if a screw is missing as long as it works. And this thing has more structural integrity than my sanity.’ ‘That doesn’t say much.’ ‘Oh phck you, I’m trying to be comforting here when you seem to have a mental breakdown over furniture assembly. This thing will be kept together by the sole fear of what you would do to it just to get this screw to its original place, okay?’ The LED was still a raging hot red. ‘Fine, watch this:’ He went over to a window, opened it and threw the accursed piece out with all his strength. ‘See? It’s gone. You wouldn’t have noticed a thing had it stayed in the foil and had I thrown it in the trash. Get over it. I will go home to sleep now and I would advise you to go into stasis when you get so riled up by a phcking missing screw. Take some care of yourself, babe!’

RK900 looked back at the shelf and analysed it again. Ran simulations whether an additional piece would greatly increase its quality. He came to the conclusion that the Detective was right, and it wouldn’t really matter.

Still he went out armed with a flashlight that night in search of the screw Gavin had thrown out. He wouldn’t tolerate anything less than perfect in his home.

#detroit become human #dbh #Reed900 #Gavin Reed #RK900 #Is it weird that I never have problems assembling Ikea furniture?#Maybe I've discovered my superpower #I get lost in furniture-stores though so there is that

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theonyxpath · 5 years ago

Link

Here we are at the end of the year with our last Monday Meeting Notes blog. Salut to you all!

A few things before we get to celebration preparation. First, the V5 Cults of the Blood Gods KS is doing fantastic, with over 1700 backers and a whole passel of Stretch Goals achieved – and we still have more than two weeks to go!

You can check it out here, if for some wacky reason you haven’t yet: https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/200664283/cults-of-the-blood-gods-for-vampire-the-masquerade-5th-ed

But, if you’d like some more info before heading over to the KS page, well, do we have options for you! They are just the links for this week to interviews and reviews…there are even more out there!

(These links are also below in the Onyx Path Media section curated by the irrepressible Matthew Dawkins).

This Friday’s Onyx Pathcast is a V5 Cults of the Blood Gods design diary! Check it out direct on Podbean, or your favorite podcast venue! https://onyxpathcast.podbean.com/

Plus, Polyhedron Podcast interviewed Matthew Dawkins regarding V5 Cults of the Blood Gods right here on their show: http://metahedronstudios.com/polyhedron/2019/12/26/polyhedron-ep-101-who-are-the-hacata?

And Gehenna Gaming did the same thing just yesterday over on their Twitch channel twitch.tv/gehennagaming, and you can catch up with that interview by subscribing to them!

And circling back around to the Story Told Podcast, here’s their interview with Matthew Dawkins regarding V5 Cults of the Blood Gods: http://thestorytold.libsyn.com/bonus-21-vampire-the-masquarade-5th-edition-cults-of-the-blood-gods-interview-with-matthew-dawkins

While Flames Rising interviews a whole bunch of the writers of V5 Cults of the Blood Gods right here: http://www.flamesrising.com/discussing-faith-among-the-dead-with-onyx-path/

And even more Matthew Dawkins interviews (if you haven’t had enough) over here on booknest.eu, in respect of (you guessed it) V5 Cults of the Blood Gods: http://booknest.eu/reviews/charles/1758-interviewwithmatthewdawkinsii

Lunars art by Priscilla Kim

End of the year “look-back” from the OP crew as to what could have gone better:

To sort of match and compliment our look back at the good stuff from 2019 that I put up in last week’s MMN blog, here are the thoughts from our Onyx Path crew as to what things in 2019 maybe weren’t so good – or at least are something we can look to improve.

Now this sort of retrospective can be seen as a downer, but for us, we want to be always looking for ways to improve what we do. In fact, a lot of the “Goods” from last week’s list were “Needs Improvement” in previous years! So in a lot of ways, these are snapshots of where are crew sees our issues right now, and are extremely useful for us:

Dixie:

For me personally, I hope to do a better job in 2020 than I did in 2019 of managing the stable of incredibly talented editors with whom we work. Personally, I love talking with each and every one of them, but anyone who watches the blog knows there have been weeks here and there when 12 projects were in editing at once, and that’s a lot! Anticipating a project’s needs weeks or months out is something we should all keep in mind so that no one department, be it art, approvals, development, or editing, ever gets bogged down for too long. I want to deliver books that are not only beautiful and well-done, but timely and efficient!

Monica:

There’s so many channels we have to communicate, it’s difficult to sync up and get the same message. On some of our convos, we’ll have three people posting almost the same thing. I’d like to see better coordination so we’re not either jumping the gun or over-responding to what’s already been addressed.

Ian:

I don’t know how to do this effectively, but we need to try to do a better job of shaping conversation so it’s more productive. During the Aberrant Kickstarter, a lot of forum discussions got pretty heated and just went around and around in circles even after a given topic had already been addressed. I want people to be able to consider concerns so we can make a better game, but the way the conversation took place made me want to avoid it instead.

Mighty Matt:

This is mostly on me, but we could have been a lot more proactive in explaining how our expansion into local game stores rolled out this past year. We could have had more tools for retail stores to communicate with us and our distribution partners. Something of a personal goal of mine to do more outreach to stores and work with distributors in more ways.

Deviant art by Michael Gaydos

Mirthful Mike:

Even though we have been doing the “put the books into stores” thing with out KSs since the Cavs KS, I’m still not seeing a lot of our product out in the wild. While I’ve seen Pugmire and Mau every now and then… I’ve seen nothing of CtL2 or Scion. I don’t know if that is a shortcoming on our end… or maybe stores are hesitant to order anything other than OGL and 5e titles.

Matthew:

Travel and conventions. It’s becoming a running joke / curse that whenever I travel internationally to attend a convention, I suffer flight delays, lost luggage, missed connections, and other such mishaps. This year saw everything bar an actual plane crash, so here’s hoping for an exemption from that when I fly to Milwaukee for Midwinter in January! I’m staying at a hotel near the London airport I’m flying from the night before I depart, I’m building more time in for my connections, and I’m taking everything as carry-on luggage, just to try to alleviate some of this travel hell!

Eddy:

One thing that we could have done better: Focus on the positive. It’s understandable that we get derailed by a shitty vocal element or focus on a project that’s on fire, but sometimes that ends up dominating our discussions, and making things seem like they’re worse than they really are. V5 is a good example — it’s been a slog to deal with all the problems with that property, so much that I was genuinely surprised with how good Chicago by Night turned out to be.

Lisa:

The bad for me is being at PAXU and having a freelancer have to tell me who they are or worse be there and not know they are present at all. Many fans enjoy being able to tell writers, artists and developers how much they enjoy their work on our games and even get an autograph. It would be nice to be able to introduce them at the booth if I know they are there. Some sort of communication to let us know who may be in attendance and find out if they want any sort of recognition would be great.

Dark Eras 2 art by Luis Sanz

RichT:

Most importantly, these and other thoughts on how we can better do what we love to do are going to be part of our Onyx Path Summit in just a week – right before we attend Mid-Winter. So, part of my job is to get discussions going there as to our team’s concerns, and believe me – these are just the first ones they sent me, as well as other changes we might be positioned now to implement.

We’re also doing a panel there in the intimate surroundings of the Hilton’s Founders Room, so if you have questions and/or concerns, praise or problems, please feel free to add them in the Comments for this blog and I’ll pass them along!

Talk to you all next year, as we prep for all that and continue to create our:

Many Worlds, One Path!

BLURBS!

Kickstarter!

V5 Cults of the Blood Gods has passed $100,000 and 1700 backers, and has trumpeted forward passing through Stretch Goal after Stretch Goal despite the holidays!

Onyx Path Media!

This Friday’s Onyx Pathcast is a V5 Cults of the Blood Gods design diary! Check it out direct on Podbean, or your favorite podcast venue! https://onyxpathcast.podbean.com/

Today we give special focus to the Story Told Podcast‘s recent review of Book of Oblivion for Wraith: The Oblivion. It’s a glowing review (four ghosts out of five, or eight oboli out of ten), and you can listen to it right here: https://thestorytold.libsyn.com/episode-43-book-of-oblivion-review-for-wraith-20th-anniversary-edition

And Gehenna Gaming did the same thing just yesterday over on their Twitch channel twitch.tv/gehennagaming, and you can catch up with that interview by subscribing to them!

Our Twitch channel continues with its streams of fantastic content, including a behind-the-screen special for Scion, a new year’s special for Scarred Lands, and regular games of Changelign: The Lost, Hunter: The Vigil, Mage: The Awakening, and more Scarred Lands!

Likewise, continue to tune in to us on YouTube for actual plays of Changeling: The Lost, Pugmire, Vampire: The Masquerade, and much much more!

Subscribe to us on youtube.com/user/theonyxpath

And of course the Gentleman Gamer, Matthew Dawkins, continues his Gentleman’s Guide to Scion over on his channel, youtube.com/user/clackclickbang

Here’s the ever-increasing trove of Occultists Anonymous actual plays of Mage: The Awakening, expanded even further!

Episode 68: Who Are You? Wyrd the Seer takes stock of her cult and Labyrinth, calling on Stephen Klein to get to know more about him… and to begin instructing him in the higher mysteries.https://youtu.be/gke84fsDxuo

Episode 69: What Have I Done? Wyrd the Seer calls upon Shodel, the Consilium’s Herald, to speak about her work at the theater and then returns to her search for the Other World.https://youtu.be/jDOsgHmGWLI

While Flames Rising interviews a whole bunch of the writers of V5 Cults of the Blood Gods right here: http://www.flamesrising.com/discussing-faith-among-the-dead-with-onyx-path/

Discussing Faith Among the Dead with Onyx Path

Don’t forget Red Moon Roleplaying have two actual plays of Vampire: The Masquerade and one of Changeling: The Lost going, with all locatable on redmoonroleplaying.com

Drop Matthew a message via the contact button on matthewdawkins.com if you have actual plays, reviews, or game overviews you want us to profile on the blog!

Please check any of these out and let us know if you find or produce any actual plays of our games!

Electronic Gaming!

As we find ways to enable our community to more easily play our games, the Onyx Dice Rolling App is live! Our dev team has been doing updates since we launched based on the excellent use-case comments by our community, and this thing is awesome! (Seriously, you need to roll 100 dice for Exalted? This app has you covered.)

On Amazon and Barnes & Noble!

You can now read our fiction from the comfort and convenience of your Kindle (from Amazon) and Nook (from Barnes & Noble).

If you enjoy these or any other of our books, please help us by writing reviews on the site of the sales venue from which you bought it. Reviews really, really help us get folks interested in our amazing fiction!

Our selection includes these latest fiction books:

Our Sales Partners!

We’re working with Studio2 to get Pugmire and Monarchies of Mau out into stores, as well as to individuals through their online store. You can pick up the traditionally printed main book, the screen, and the official Pugmire dice through our friends there! https://studio2publishing.com/search?q=pugmire

We’ve added Prince’s Gambit to our Studio2 catalog: https://studio2publishing.com/products/prince-s-gambit-card-game

Now, we’ve added Changeling: The Lost 2nd Edition products to Studio2‘s store! See them here: https://studio2publishing.com/collections/all-products/changeling-the-lost

Scarred Lands (Pathfinder) books are also on sale at Studio2, and they have the 5e version, supplements, and dice as well!: https://studio2publishing.com/collections/scarred-lands

Scion 2e books and other products are available now at Studio2: https://studio2publishing.com/blogs/new-releases/scion-second-edition-book-one-origin-now-available-at-your-local-retailer-or-online

Looking for our Deluxe or Prestige Edition books? Try this link! http://www.indiepressrevolution.com/xcart/Onyx-Path-Publishing/

And you can order Pugmire, Monarchies of Mau, Cavaliers of Mars, and Changeling: The Lost 2e at the same link! And NOW Scion Origin and Scion Hero are available to order!

As always, you can find Onyx Path’s titles at DriveThruRPG.com!

On Sale This Week!

This Wednesday, we will be releasing the PDF and physical book PoD versions of Tales of Good Dogs, the Pugmire Fiction Anthology on DTRPG!

Conventions!

2020: Midwinter: January 9th – 12th, in Milwaukee, WI. Check out David Fuller’s Athens, Ohio Scion actual play tie-in adventure (soon to be coming to the Storypath Nexus community content site) that will be running at Midwinter. The event url is below: https://tabletop.events/conventions/midwinter-gaming-convention-2020/schedule/402

More talk about this next week!

And now, the new project status updates!

DEVELOPMENT STATUS FROM EDDY WEBB (projects in bold have changed status since last week):

First Draft (The first phase of a project that is about the work being done by writers, not dev prep)

Exalted Essay Collection (Exalted)

N!ternational Wrestling Entertainment (Trinity Continuum: Aberrant)

Contagion Chronicle Ready-Made Characters (Chronicles of Darkness)

Trinity Continuum: Adventure! core (Trinity Continuum: Adventure!)

Duke Rollo fiction (Trinity Continuum: Aberrant)

TC: Aberrant Jumpstart (Trinity Continuum: Aberrant)

RUST (Scarred Lands)

Redlines

Kith and Kin (Changeling: The Lost 2e)

Dragon-Blooded Novella #2 (Exalted 3rd Edition)

Many-Faced Strangers – Lunars Companion (Exalted 3rd Edition)

Second Draft

Player’s Guide to the Contagion Chronicle (Chronicles of Darkness)

M20 Victorian Mage (Mage: the Ascension 20th Anniversary Edition)

Exigents (Exalted 3rd Edition)

Crucible of Legends (Exalted 3rd Edition)

Development

Heirs to the Shogunate (Exalted 3rd Edition)

TC: Aberrant Reference Screen (Trinity Continuum: Aberrant)

Monsters of the Deep (They Came From Beneath the Sea!)

One Foot in the Grave Jumpstart (Geist: The Sin-Eaters 2e)

Scion: Demigod (Scion 2nd Edition)

Tales of Aquatic Terror (They Came From Beneath the Sea!)

Across the Eight Directions (Exalted 3rd Edition)

Contagion Chronicle: Global Outbreaks (Chronicles of Darkness)

Contagion Chronicle Jumpstart (Chronicles of Darkness)

Manuscript Approval

Scion: Dragon (Scion 2nd Edition)

Masks of the Mythos (Scion 2nd Edition)

Buried Bones: Creating in the Realms of Pugmire (Realms of Pugmire)

Trinity Continuum Jumpstart (Trinity Continuum Core)

Post-Approval Development

Scion LARP Rules (Scion)

Mummy: The Curse 2nd Edition core rulebook (Mummy: The Curse 2nd Edition)

Titanomachy (Scion 2nd Edition)

Editing

Lunars: Fangs at the Gate (Exalted 3rd Edition)

Let the Streets Run Red (Vampire: The Masquerade 5th Edition)

Geist 2e Fiction Anthology (Geist: The Sin-Eaters 2nd Edition)

Dragon-Blooded Novella #1 (Exalted 3rd Edition)

Legendlore core book (Legendlore)

WoD Ghost Hunters (World of Darkness)

Mythical Denizens (Creatures of the World Bestiary) (Scion 2nd Edition)

Pirates of Pugmire KS-Added Adventure (Realms of Pugmire)

M20 The Technocracy Reloaded (Mage: the Ascension 20th Anniversary Edition)

Yugman’s Guide to Ghelspad (Scarred Lands)

Trinity Continuum: Aberrant core (Trinity Continuum: Aberrant)

Terra Firma (Trinity Continuum: Aeon)

Deviant: The Renegades (Deviant: The Renegades)

Lunars Novella (Rosenberg) (Exalted 3rd Edition)

Post-Editing Development

TC: Aeon Ready-Made Characters (Trinity Continuum: Aeon)

Night Horrors: Nameless and Accursed (Mage: the Awakening Second Edition)

City of the Towered Tombs (Cavaliers of Mars)

W20 Shattered Dreams Gift Cards (Werewolf: The Apocalypse 20th)

TC: Aeon Jumpstart (Trinity Continuum: Aeon)

Vigil Watch (Scarred Lands)

Scion Companion: Mysteries of the World (Scion 2nd Edition)

Cults of the Blood Gods (Vampire: The Masquerade 5th Edition)

Wraith20 Fiction Anthology (Wraith: The Oblivion 20th Anniversary Edition)

Hunter: The Vigil 2e core (Hunter: The Vigil 2nd Edition)

Indexing

ART DIRECTION FROM MIKE CHANEY!

In Art Direction

Contagion Chronicle – Finals coming in.

Trinity Continuum: Aberrant

Hunter: The Vigil 2e

Ex3 Lunars – Art is in.

TCfBtS!: Heroic Land Dwellers – Working on finals.

Night Horrors: Nameless and Accursed – Contracted.

Cults of the Blood God (KS)

Mummy 2

City of the Towered Tombs

Let the Streets Run Red – Art notes and contracts finishing going out this week.

CtL Oak Ash and Thorn

Scion Mythical Denizens – Need sketches for fulls.

Deviant

Yugman’s Guide to Ghelspad – Sketches coming in, should see some finals soon.

Vigil Watch

Legendlore (KS)

Technocracy Reloaded (KS) – Got notes out to artists for halfs and splats.

Scion Companion – Working on art notes for that.

In Layout

Chicago Folio – Halfway through layout.

Trinity Continuum Aeon: Distant Worlds

Pirates of Pugmire – With Aileen.

Proofing

Dark Eras 2 – At WW for approval and they will be back after the New Year.

Trinity Continuum Aeon Jumpstart

They Came from Beneath the Sea!

VtR Spilled Blood

At Press

V5: Chicago – Shipping to the KS fulfillment shippers. PoD proofs ordered.

Geist 2e (Geist: The Sin-Eaters 2nd Edition) – Being printed.

Geist 2e Screen – Being printed.

DR:E – Being printed.

DRE Screen – Being printed.

DR:E Threat Guide – Helnau’s Guide to Wasteland Beasties – PoD proof on the way.

Trinity RMCs

Tales of Good Dogs – PDF and PoD versions on sale Wednesday!

Memento Mori – Gathering errata.

M20 Book of the Fallen – PoD proof on the way.

Trinity Continuum Storypath Nexus Community Content – Getting it set up.

Today’s Reason to Celebrate!

Today in 1920, Jack Lord – of Hawaii 5-0 fame – was born. He was “a groovy lady-killer”.

#Onyx Path Publishing

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avengers-nextgen · 7 years ago

Text

Prometheus IIIV

Piper had stayed up all night on the phone with Gen frantically cross referencing anything she could. Her handwriting had devolved into barely discernible figures and she was on her third cup of coffee in twenty minutes.

A white board nearby was littered with shitty drawings and hastily scribbled urls to look up later. Books were scattered about the room and in the background some historical documentary was rolling. She’d stopped paying attention to it well over an hour ago.

“So if you trace that what do you find?” Piper questioned. Having grown tired of holding the phone to her ear she’d literally wrapped a rubber band around her head to hold it there.

“Something about the Bermuda Triangle. But that’s dumb because we know it’s just gas ventilation that causes malfunctions,” Gen huffed.

“Ocean farts. Got it.” Piper nodded slapping it down onto her white board. “Ever heard of the baby brother to the Bermuda Triangle?”

“Uhm...no.”

“Great. My turn to teach you.” Piper took a gulp from her coffee cup and slammed it onto the desk before cracking her knuckles. “There’s multiple ones. One recently thought to be found in Southeast Asia. The Devil’s triangle off the coast of Japan. The good old original Bermuda, and even one in the US. Except that one is fucking scary as shit-“

“Focus.”

“Right. Anyways,” Piper sighed studying her white board, “one of these is said to be a sealed entrance to the shadow realm. The nearest connection point between the Abyss and Earth. It’s why things disappear. If nothing is up with the original triangle- except for ocean farts-we can eliminate that. The one in the US I’m not even considering. Meaning we have the Japan one or the Southeast one.”

“Narrow the time zone. When did this guy start popping up?”

“Recently.”

“Exactly, so which has the most recent occurrence?” Gen asked.

“The Devil’s Sea. The one next to Japan.” Piper concluded after glancing at the dates. “That’s where he has to be going. It’s the easiest place to establish a connection.”

“How are you going to trace him? The ocean is huge.”

“I have my ways,” Piper smirked. “Thanks for the help. I have some info to relay.”

“Be careful. You have a reckless nature.” Gen scoffed. “So do your friends.”

“It’s part of the job. See you at school.” Piper hung up.

— — —

“Time to fly,” Orion grinned sprinting to his jet.

“Time to shoot!” Valkyrie cheered running after him.

“Time to supervise,” Scout huffed trailing behind.

“Piper, keep the signal strong.” James instructed following Nathaniel into another jet.

“On it.” Piper replied as her suit fastened itself.

“Tell is when you arrive.” Arthur reminded them, “Chloe and I can bring the others.”

“Copy that.” Nathaniel noted, slipping on the headset. The engines of the jets came to life kicking up small clouds of dust from the hangar.

“Good luck.” Penny tapped her foot anxiously. She’d be waiting with the others until Prometheus was located.

“Don’t worry kid.” James grinned, “This’ll be fun.”

— — —

“I have sight,” Orion called, studying the large freight with an intense scrutiny. “Scout, what-“

“It’s a freight.” Scout informed. “Used for large shipments but it looks pretty empty except for a few crates. No one visibly on deck.”

“Circle about, don’t go too low.” James instructed.

“On it.” Orion replied. The two jets curved slowly overhead for a few minutes but the ship moved lazily along. “Scout, can you sense anything?”

“No...” Scout frowned. “Only slightly. It’s foggy.”

“He’s being defensive,” Nathaniel decided, “he knows we’re here.”

“So how do we approach this? I don’t want to lead everyone else into a trap.” James sighed, scanning the area.

“Blow it up.” Valkyrie suggested.

“Absolutely not.” Scout argued. “We need to remain airborn Incase we need to evacuate or provide cover. That’s our job. Air support. If the deck is clear we tell the others and they storm the ship.”

“I don’t like being up here when they’re down there.” James groaned.

“Sorry buddy, but that’s how it’s working,” Nathaniel sighed. “Arthur do you copy?”

“Loud and clear.”

“The deck seems to be clear. We’re circling over head. Go ahead and board we’ll be ready if you need it.” Nathaniel informed.

“You got it.”

A few seconds later Nathaniel spotted the growing edges of portals before a bright yellow figure zipped through-Penny. She was followed swiftly by the others.

“We’re aboard.” Arthur stood on the deck studying its blank surface. “Phase two?”

“Phase two.”

— — —

Bianca stood back to back with Thalia. The two moved slowly down the stairs into the under belly of the freight ship. The air was dank and wet smelling much to their displeasure.

“Take the right side,” Fox ordered slinking off to the left with Siyanda following closely behind. “Check every room.”

Thalia nodded and motioned for Bianca to follow her. The only thing that lit their path was flickering emergency lights over head. Cracking open the first cabin door, Bianca hoisted her rifle ready to shoot. Her eyes skimmed the area anxiously but nothing seemed out of place.

Across the way Fox and Siyanda were searching another cabin. Fox nervously turned on the light to illuminate their surroundings. The bed was wet with blood. “I guess we know what happened to the crew members.”

“I’m gonna be sick,” Siyanda breathed, looking away from the gory sight.

“Let’s keep moving,” Fox decided, wanting to leave as well. A shatter was followed by darkness as the light turned off. “What the-“

In less than a second Fox felt her feet leave the ground and her back crack painfully into metal paneling. Siyanda’s claws scraped horrifically into the metal releasing a flash of sparks.

Bianca picked up on the noise first, “Across the hall.”

Thalia responded just as the soldier did. Both girls sprinted across the metal floor to the door standing open. Bianca glanced through the night vision sight of her rifle to see three forms. Fox was clambering to her feet, Siyanda was glancing nervously about, and a body lay lifeless on the ground. It slowly disappeared. “Just a minion of his.”

“Scared the shit out of me!” Fox cursed.

“We need to be more careful,” Siyanda panted. “We’re on his playground now.”

“I don’t like this.” Thalia frowned.

— — —

Penny whizzed about on the other side of the first lower deck. She darted swiftly in and out of the rooms finding little of interest. She noticed a faint bit of oil pooling on the metal floor. It was dripping from the upper deck most likely from a leaking barrel. “Slobs.”

“Shh.” Chloe whispered trailing behind her. “Wait here.”

“The quicker we get this done the better. Every passing minute he gets closer to the summoning point!” Penny shook her head already distracted by the task and hyper focusing. Before Chloe could protest anymore the other girl was gone.

“Oil doesn’t just drip from the ceiling. What’s going on here?” Chloe frowned stooping down to examine the mess. An occasional drop plopped into the puddle but otherwise everything was quiet.

Following the arch of another drop upwards, Chloe examined the ceiling. There seemed to be a strong running across the top somehow. It was recent and still wet. Eyes trained on the ceiling Chloe followed the path until it ended at a cabin door.

She nearly opened it when she became very aware of the silence. She couldn’t hear the faint thrum of Penny’s wings. “Penny? Penny where are you?”

Before she got the chance to call out again a hand clamped firmly over her mouth and she was tugged inside the room where the door slammed shut.

— — —

“Every crate,” Enzo panted slashing through another with a burst of magic. The metal doors groaned before falling over onto the deck. “Another empty one.”

“Keep trying,” Piper encouraged blasting open another.

Arthur materialized from a third looking vaguely bored. “Empty as well. Who ships empty crates?”

“No one.” Piper snorted, “that’s why this is already weird as shit.”

“Do we have to work our way down? Why can’t we work our way up? He’s probably hiding.” Enzo frowned tearing another open. Inside was nothing more than ridiculous advertisement posters. “Oh look...McDonalds.”

“At least it’s something?” Arthur tried.

Piper flew up to one of the crates on top of a nearby stack and split it in half. Landing, she clambered inside it’s confines. Her stomach coiled in disgust. “Guess this is where they keep the shark bait.”

The slaughtered crew was laying in a huddle against one side of the crate. Tearing her eyes away from the mess she moved on to another one hoping it was empty.

— — —

Alex moved lower into the ship making quick and efficient work of the place. She was very aware of her surroundings and every bit of her senses was on edge. Her breath seemed impossibly loud when it shouldn’t have been.

So far nothing of importance had been discovered or she would have heard it in her ear piece. Beneath her shoes she could feel the hum of the engine room. In her head she ran Piper’s plan over and over again committing it to memory. They couldn’t afford to blow this.

Swallowing hard she took the stairs carefully already feeling the heat of the machinery. Steam clouded the air and waves of heat roiled from the metal. For a moment her heart leapt into her throat and she was certain she saw Prometheus inches away-but he wasn’t there.

Wiping sweat from her brow she straightened and pressed on. Her feet felt like they were on fire and she was more than eager to leave the engines behind to their own devices.

Then she came across a new flight of stairs leading up slightly. It was most likely a communications room. Adjusting the grip on her shield she took them two at a time emerging onto a scene she hadn’t expected.

The metal clad figure of Prometheus sat upon a throne with his legs crossed and his hands clasped. “So nice of you to arrive and join your friends.”

Alex glanced at Penny hanging upside down by a metal plate wrapped from her ankles. It was chained to the ceiling causing her to swing slightly. She was unconscious. Beside her was Chloe and she was very much awake. Her eyes were furious but her thrashing accomplished nothing.

“Where are the others?” Alex demanded.

“Being taken care of. They have yet to realize anyone’s missing.” Prometheus shrugged. “I have to say I’m happy you came here so early.”

“What do you want? Why do you insist on doing this?”

“That’s for me to know.” Prometheus winked. “You know very well what’s in my possession.”

His metallic palm turned upwards and the familiar statuette appeared in his hand. Alex wanted nothing more than to reach out and take it. Just having one would stop this madness. “Why waste your time tormenting us? You could have done this sooner.”

“I could have,”Prometheus agreed with a shrug, “but I find humanity so fascinating. The dynamics are fun to watch. I may have made you but you’ve all evolved so much. It’s...breathtaking.”

“Cut the flattery.”

“It’s not flattery,” The crinkle of his eyes signaled his smile, “it’s the truth.”

“Let them go. We can talk. But you let them go.” Alex nodded at Penny and Chloe. Chloe’s eyes smarted and she glared in protest.

“Chivalrous but I can’t do that. Every good strategist needs collateral.” Prometheus stood from his throne in a single swift motion. His back turned to Alex and he clasped his hands behind himself. “We’re nearly there.”

“You’re stalling.”

“Am I? Or are you?” He asked, amusement dripping from his voice. “You’re interesting.”

“Shut up.” Alex glanced at the chains from the ceiling. Her grip tightened more on her shield.

“You’re the only one not afraid.”

Alex bit back a response, and setting her feet she judged the trajectory of the throw. Her shield cracked into the fastenings. The chains broke with a spark sending Chloe and Penny sprawling to the ground.

“But you should be my dear. Everyone always is.” The ship shivered violently in response, “It appears we’ve arrived.”

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whentommymetalfie · 7 years ago

Text

Got tight on absinthe last night- did knife tricks (repost from ao3)

REPOST, originally posted on AO3 in January.

A/N: I’m putting together a master-list of all my stories! And since this has never been posted here, I needed to get that sorted to be able to include it. Have a re-read of this fluffy, stupid little if you’d like! :)

Summary: The only thing more disastrous than Tommy Shelby, is an incredibly drunk Tommy Shelby. Alfie will make the rules from here on: 1. Never drink absinthe. 2. Never drink with Esme. 3. Horse-hats are not a thing.

In which Esme is a terrible influence, John is proud, Tommy can't hold his liquor and Alfie is a Very Good Boyfriend™

Pairing: Alfie/Tommy

Wordcount: 2300

Read on AO3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/13247862

Alfie arrives in Birmingham a bit later than he anticipated, thanks to some very unwelcomed complications at the brewery. A bit later meaning: in the middle of the fucking night. But at least he can look forward to collapsing next to Tommy in bed in just a few minutes, pull him close, bury his nose in his hair. Get a drowsy, ‘fuck off, I’m trying to sleep here’ in response. Ignore it. Fall asleep with Tommy’s heartbeat right next to his.

This plan, however, is very soon to be ruined.

The moment he steps through the door to the Shelby’s house, he is met by Ada, who passes him on her way upstairs. She walks up to him slaps his shoulder.

”Good to see you Solomons.” The alcohol in her breath alone could probably ignite a fucking blow torch. “If you want to have Tommy back in one piece tonight, I suggest you go down to the Garrison.” Yeah. Of course. One week in London and Tommy has already managed to stir up some sort of trouble. Ridiculous idea, being in separate places just for efficiency. Now he remembers why they're barely doing that anymore, even for a few days at a time.

”Bloody hell, can't even leave him alone for a few fucking days.” He rubs a hand over his face. "That boy's antics will be the death of me. What has he gotten himself into now? Please don't fucking tell me Kimber is involved somehow? Don't have the energy to shoot people tonight."

“Oh, nothing like that. Just a good ol’ fashion drink-off that Esme somehow roped him into." Ada waves her hand sloppily. "Which he is going to lose, ‘cause I know it doesn’t seem like it, but he really can’t hold his liquor. Under that coat he weighs like a hundred pounds. And maybe it’s got something to do with being hit in the head a few too many times.”

If that ain’t the fucking truth, Alfie thinks. Ada keeps talking. Slurring, more like it.

”Esme brought absinthe. Pretty sure it’s like… 70 percent. It’s very unexpected, but she can drink anyone under the table. I left before things got ugly.”

Alfie pulls his coat back on, grabs his cane and hat, and is just about to walk out the door when he sees John pass by at the top of the stairs. Apparently, the whole bloody household is up.

“Johnny-boy, we’ve got to go and save our significant others from themselves. You coming?”

John backs up. “Wait, Esme isn’t home? I thought she’d gone to bed?” Alfie shakes his head. God, this fucking family…

....

“Oh good, you’re here,” Grace says the moment they walk through the door. The Garrison is empty. She tosses a key to John.

“You’re lucky your family pretty much owns this bar. Otherwise, you lot would’ve been banned long ago. You can lock up, I’m going home.” And with that, she’s out the door.

They find Esme and Tommy in the back room. Or, at first, they just find Esme, because Tommy is currently lying under one of the benches in the booth. Esme is cradling a half empty bottle of a bright green liquid in her hand and holding a monologue that Alfie can’t understand a word of. Tommy answers her in the same language, and Esme laughs.

“John, Alfie! Look Tommy, our men are here!” she exclaims when she sees them, words just barely coherent, and then breaks into another fit of laughter.

Tommy waves a hand from under the bench. “Hi men.” Then he looks up, cocks his head slightly as he tries to focus his gaze on something.

“Alfie! It’s you!”

John and Alfie look at each other, and share a rare moment of understanding.

“Yeah, well, unless you’ve got other men in your life…” Alfie walks up to the booth, crouches down and looks at his drunk partner. His beautiful, crazy, train-wreck of a partner. "That may pose a problem. Afraid I'm not too fond of sharing."

“No, you know you’re the only man for me,” Tommy croons and reaches out a hand, sort of patting Alfie on the wrist in an attempted show of affection.

John grabs the bottle from Esme, who makes a disapproving face, and reads the label. “Absinthe. 89 percent.” He gives his wife a stern look. “Where do you get stuff like this from?”

“Oh, I’ve got connections,” Esme says and wriggles her eyebrows.

“How are you still upright?”

Esme huffs. “Please. Tommy is such a lightweight.”

Tommy makes a noise that could mean anything.

John sighs, but there is also this sort of proud look on his face. “Well I hope you enjoyed yourself. You won. And now we’re going home.”

Alfie is fighting a losing battle to keep Tommy's attention.

“Hear that, love? How about we do the same? Feels like you’ve had enough for one night. Or, several fucking nights actually. ” He tugs lightly at Tommy’s hand in an attempt to make him come out from his spot under the bench. He’d rather not crawl in under the table to get him. “Let’s get you home and into bed.”

“You can take me to bed anytime, handsome,” Tommy smirks.

“Well, yeah, that’s what I’m trying to do here. Though considering the quality of that, maybe the floor is a fucking upgrade.”

John and Esme are already by the door.

“Hey, we’re going now. Lock up, will you?” John drops the key onto a table, before leading his giggling wife out the door.

Alfie just waves his hand dismissively, keeping his eyes on Tommy. Been a long time since he saw him quite this drunk. Alfie feels that maybe he should be angry with him, since dragging a so-drunk-he’s-barely-conscious Tommy home really wasn’t his plan for the night. But he can’t help himself: seeing the always so guarded Tommy Shelby like this, is pretty fucking endearing.

“Now, love, not that I mind sitting here on the floor with you, but I’d much rather be in a bed, no matter how shitty. What do you say, eh?”

After considering it for a moment, Tommy apparently deems this an acceptable option.

He crawls out from under the bench, and with rather a lot of support from Alfie, manages to get to his feet. He sways and Alfie wraps an arm around his waist.

They make it out of the pub, and Alfie locks the door. The streets have mostly cleared out at this hour, with exception for a few poor sods who’ve simply collapsed in the gutter.

After about two minutes of trying to support Tommy’s increasingly dead weight against his side, as well as keeping him from tripping over his own feet, Alfie gives up.

He stops in his tracks and states out loud: “Fuck it. This ain't working out.”

Without waiting for some sort of response, Alfie wraps one arm around Tommy’s shoulders, hooking the other under his knees, and lifts him off the ground. Then he keeps walking. Much to his surprise, Tommy doesn’t protest, just lays his head against his shoulder.

“Thought you hated being carried? You never let me do this, not even in the bedroom. Fucking ridiculous, all these little ideas of yours. I ought to just do it anyway.”

And Tommy Shelby fucking giggles. Alfie sort of curses he’s the only one there to witness it, because like hell anyone will ever believe him.

“I’m gonna tell you a secret,” he whispers, rather loudly.

“I’m all ears, sweetie.”

“I’m actually… really, really drunk.”

Alfie nods. “You don’t say. Thought this was just a particularly good day.”

Tommy falls silent for a while, and Alfie almost thinks he’s fallen asleep when he pipes up.

“This is sort of nice,” he mutters. “I might let you do this some other time.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Alfie says. “Doubt that you’ll remember it tomorrow, though.”

“Sure I will.”

Tommy is rather unresponsive the rest of the short distance home, and Alfie manages to get them both inside by nudging the door handle down with his elbow. He needs to get Tommy to drink something, though, so he goes to the kitchen first and sits him down on the table. By some miracle, Tommy remains in sitting position for the few seconds it takes him to fill a cup with water, but then he has to wrap an arm around his shoulders to keep him from falling backwards.

“Oi, Tommy.” he pats his cheek lightly to get his attention, and Tommy’s hazy eyes focus on him. “Drink this.” Alfie puts the cup to his mouth, not trusting him with any type of breakable objects.

Tommy drinks half of it.

“Can I wear your hat?” He then asks, but has already reached up and snatched it. Alfie lowers the cup, decides to indulge him for a moment. Then he realizes something.

“Where is your cap?”

Tommy furrows his brow, looks up at him from under the wide brim of his hat. “I don’t know. Maybe Esme took it.” Silence. “Or maybe I gave it to someone?”

“That was probably a shit idea.”

“Once, I dreamt that I gave my cap to a horse.” Tommy slurs, looking thoughtful. Then his eyes light up and he grasps Alfie’s shoulder. “Maybe that could be our new business!”

Alfie blinks. “What?”

“Making hats. For horses. You know, fuck the bookmaking, and fixing races and all that. Let’s just make horse-hats. It will be amazing.”

Alfie puts the cup to his mouth and tips it slightly; luckily Tommy drinks obediently.

“Sure, sweetie. First thing tomorrow, I’m shutting down the bakery and telling the boys to start making-“

“Horse-hats.”

“Yeah. Fucking horse-hats.” Alfie puts the cup in the sink, forgetting for a moment about Tommy’s predicament, and just barely manages to catch him around the waist before he falls backwards onto the table. They don’t need anything that’s going to make the expectedly hellish headache tomorrow worse.

Tommy wraps both arms around his shoulders and gives him one of those smiles that usually means trouble.

“You know what I’m thinking about?”

“Horse hats?”

Tommy furrows his brow, as if he’s never heard of such a thing before. Then the smile returns. He gives Alfie one of those sultry, half-lidded looks that always manages to drive him absolutely mad.

“I’m thinking about-“ his hands travel down over Alfie’s back, “The last time I was on this table-“ he spreads his thighs and pulls Alfie closer to him. “With you between my legs.” He kisses him, and Alfie indulges himself for just a moment and kisses him back. “We should do it again.” Tommy moans against his lips. “Now.”

The memory of that time already has all the blood rushing to his cock, so it takes absolutely all of Alfie’s willpower to break the kiss and take a step back. Tommy pouts. Fucking pouts. Then again, he always looks like he does. With those lips.

“Sorry sweetheart, not when you’re this drunk. You’re not right in the head,” Alfie says. “We’re going to bed. And we’re going to sleep, yeah? Can you walk?” Tommy gets off the table, clings to his side, but manages to stay on his feet.

“Since when did you become such an honourable man?” he mutters as Alfie leads him up the stairs.

“Only with you, love.”

“Wish you wouldn’t be.”

“Oh, I promise to be a lot less honourable tomorrow night, several times. If you can take it, with the hangover you’ll have.”

Tommy seems to be satisfied with this promise.

A few minutes later, they’re finally, finally in bed. Tommy apparently has forgotten all about what he wanted down in the kitchen, because he just curls up against him, laying his head against his chest, and closes his eyes. Alfie sighs, puts an arm around him.

There is silence, and Alife is certain Tommy has fallen asleep when he suddenly speaks again, quietly this time. Drowsily.

“Alfie, I’ve never told anyone this-“

Alfie hums, thinking this will either be another ‘I’m drunk’ confession, or a pitch for the horse-hats again.

“So it’s a secret and you can’t tell anyone.”

“’Course not, love.” He keeps his answers uncharacteristically short. Because he's fucking exhausted, and he's pretty sure Tommy can't keep up with any long speeches.

Tommy pauses, and then says in a grave tone, “I’m actually really scared of the sea.”

Alfie chuckles quietly. “Is that so? How come.”

“You don’t know what’s in it. Could be these… large… fish… things.”

Large fish things. Quite the thing to hear from the usually so eloquent Tommy.

“Have you ever actually been to the sea?” he asks.

“Not really,” Tommy admits.

“Then how do you know you don’t like it?”

“I don’t like the thought of it.”

“I’ll take you there sometime. Show you that it’s nice. I promise to protect you from any potential ‘large fish-things’.”

“If you ever try to take me to the sea, I will divorce you.”

“We’re not married, love.”

Tommy straightens up a little. Rests his forearms on Alfie’s chest and looks down at him through those impossibly long eyelashes. Cocks his head and gives him this little, infatuated smile.

“Yeah, we are.”

Alfie chuckles, reaches out a hand and cups his face, running a thumb over his cheekbone. To hell with it, let him have this. “Sure, love. Sure, we are.” Then he pulls Tommy down and kisses him, just chastely, before tucking him against his side. Tommy buries his face in the crook of his neck.

“Missed you when you were away,” he mumbles, just barely awake now. Alfie smiles at the confession. He knows Tommy misses him when he’s in London, but the man would never actually admit it sober. It’s not in his nature. But Alfie knows these things. Knows that Tommy misses him. Knows that he likes sleeping with Alfie’s arms wrapped around him. Knows that he likes to be kissed on the forehead, even though he calls Alfie a fucking sap when he does. Maybe that’s what makes this whole thing work. That he knows.

“I missed you too,” he says. And Tommy smiles against his neck.

#alfie/tommy #tommy shelby #alfie solomons #john shelby #esme shelby #peaky blinders fanfiction #wtma au #season01au

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