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adarlingmess · 3 years

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Ugnayan

Summary:

Filipino word, noun: connection between persons, groups, countries, etc.

A collection of works detailing a manananggal clan’s relations with the Treses, and their allies.

II: Bad Habits

Summary: After disrupting one of House of Arko’s operations, one of the Kambal meets up with their informant.

Words: 4540

Characters: Basilio, Crispin, Sabina (OC), Alexandra Trese (mentioned only), Ammie (mentioned only), Reyna Manananggal (mentioned only), Dominic Villaceran (mentioned only), Mama Grande (mentioned only)

Relationships: Basilio/Original Female Character

Language: English, with a few Filipino words and phrases sprinkled in.

Rating: 16+

Warnings: Strong language, violence, mentions of abortion, references to human trafficking + sexual trafficking, sexual themes

Author’s Notes:

I am: back on my bullshit again

People were looking for a part 2 so have more Basilio x OC stuff. Spoiler warning for Verdugo: Takutan because this story heavily references its lore and events! The comics are known to be darker in tone, and so is this fic, so heed the warnings above. No Taglish version this time, Darling niyo pagod na 😩

This was supposed to be a simple job.

Get in, rough up House of Arko’s operation while Bossing is paying them a visit in their mansion, get out, and watch as Bossing confronts them about it at the next social gathering they’ll host.

But nothing was ever simple about the aswang, right?

Now there’s a huge one trying to eat Basilio alive.

“Damn it, Basilio. Your recklessness is a bad habit that’ll bite us in the ass later!” his older brother berates him.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever! Now might be the right time to call for backup kuya,” he strains, attempting to pull the magubat’s jaw apart with his superhuman strength. His fingers slip from the drool and it almost bites his hands off.

Crispin’s busy with a horde of mailap, taking turns in taking pot shots from him in the shadows. “We should’ve taken a page from Carlos’ book and brought palm fronds. Who should we call?”

“What about Maliksi?” Basilio suggests.

“What’s one tikbalang to all these aswangs? We need something bigger, maybe a higante to take on that magubat!”

“Gago, a higante can’t get here as fast as a tikbalang!” Basilio snaps.

“Mas gago ka! What about that playmate of ours from when we were kids, y’know, the one that tipped Bossing off about this whole trafficking operation anyway? Think she can fly her way here?” Crispin growls, shooting down a mailap who was foolish enough to ambush the more cautious twin from above.

Ah, yes. Sabina.

Boyish, intimidating, hard to figure out- but still hot enough to flirt with, despite being aswang; that’s how Basilio would describe her. This Sab was a far cry from the Sabina Marie he once knew years ago, the one who used to wear an all-girl Catholic school uniform, shyly shared her snacks and books with him, and kissed him farewell when her mama told her she’ll not be coming with her to meetings with the lakan anymore.

A few days after they caught up with each other, she turned up at the Diabolical not too long ago with a flash drive for Alex’s eyes only. She didn’t even breathe a word to him, much less look at his direction, but Basilio could only surmise that it’s his fault.

“Sabina? Well, manananggals who follow the queen can shoot. It’s- ungh- worth the shot!” Basilio answers back, straining as he gets swatted to the side with one gigantic claw. “You make the call, my hands are full!”

“Give me your phone, I don’t have her Facespace.”

Basilio looks down from several feet, and gives his brother a sheepish smile. “Uhhh, okay, but she’s been seenzoning me.”

From behind his mask, Crispin frowns. “What did you do?”

“She might’ve seen me tagged in Ammie’s story when I was supposed to watch her gig. I got there when her set was ending, and she was pissed.”

Grumbling, Crispin takes his frustrations off on a mabangis charging towards him, a flurry of bullets raining upon its body. “What did Bossing say about getting personal with informants?”

“What? It’s Sab. She’s-”

“An aswang who might have an ulterior motive in helping us. Tangina Basilio, think with your head sometimes! The one between your shoulders!”

Distracted, Basilio failed to stop the jaws of the magubat from closing in on him. As quickly as his reflexes allow, he tosses his brother his phone.

“Just call already! Tell her it’s an emergency.”

The older Kambal flies up and extends his free hand to catch it. Crispin launches Basilio’s Facespace app and begins to search for their informant. He found her under the name Sab Evasco. Crispin pretended not to see the string of messages Basilio left for her, all left on read.

Her phone rings. One time. Two times. Three times. Crispin dials again. Twice. Thrice.

Someone picks up. He puts the call on the loudspeaker.

There’s someone strumming a guitar in the background, accompanied by a drumset’s cymbals. They come to a halt and Crispin hears a frustrated woman’s voice from the other end of the line.

“Ulol gago, fuck you Basilio, you can tell me if you’d rather go on Starbreaks coffee dates with a wind girl than watch me play. I’m a grown woman, I can handle a simple ‘no’. I’m not in the mood for your games! Now fuck off, I don’t want to hear from you. I have a gig to practice for.”

Basilio cringes as he listens to Sabina’s tirade. Crispin guns a charging mabangis down, and his mask dematerializes for a brief moment, just enough for him to mouth to his brother “Gago ka talaga.”

“Sabina, it’s Crispin. We could use some backup here. We’re being swarmed by aswang.”

The sound of a guitar being unceremoniously dropped and the mad shuffle to catch it can be heard from Sabina’s line, followed by quick footsteps. Sabina talks again, calmer this time. “What? Couldn’t Basilio get his own ass on the phone and tell me himself?”

With an exasperated expression, Crispin turns on the camera, and points the phone at Basilio, who’s caught between the magubat’s jaws. “He said you were ignoring him, and he can’t get on the phone right now, as you can see.”

The Kambal heard her fumbling with more equipment, which sounded like a guitar case being zipped up and carried. A brief argument with her bandmates follows, then Sabina talks again.

“I’ll be there. Stay on the line.”

Now they wait.

As much as Crispin wanted to help his little brother, his hands were full with the wave after wave of aswang coming after them. They’re relentless. This is their food supply the Kambal are cutting off, after all.

“Any luck with Sab?” Basilio asks, attempting to shoot the roof of the mabangis’ mouth.

The bullets barely penetrate the thick membrane. He’ll need to transform the Armas Infinitum into a more powerful weapon to lobotomize the gigantic aswang, but seeing how he’s separated from his twin, it’s impossible at the moment.

“She said she’s on the way. She’s still on the phone. Here!”

Crispin throws the phone back to Basilio, who catches it with one hand, while his other arm continues to struggle with the magubat trying to swallow him whole. He tucks it in his breast pocket, and he jumps near the row of the magubat’s front teeth, prying it open with both arms.

Through the aswangs’ growls, Basilio could faintly hear a woman cursing and the jingling of keys from the other side of the line.

“Hey Sab! It’s Basilio. Sorry again about missing your gig.”

“Shut up and hang tight. If I didn’t care for you at all...” Sabina snaps. Basilio could barely make out the words Sabina was saying due to the wind and sound of traffic. “I’m on my way.”

“Ngh, can’t you come any sooner? I heard that aswang intestines are nasty.” Basilio pauses, realizing his mistake. “No offense.”

“I said zip it. Isn’t it enough that I went out of hiding and agreed to be Trese’s informant? Now I have to be your backup too?”

“Working with Bossing has its risks. We made that clear, princess.”

“Don’t call me that.”

There’s more turbulence and wind from Sabina’s line. If Basilio guessed, she’s now flying to the scene. The Kambal’s struggle with the aswang continued until they heard their informant’s voice through the speakers again.

“Big bad war demigods can’t handle a single fucking magubat?” Sabina deadpans, the turbulence and noise no longer accompanying her voice. “Open the fucker’s mouth wide. Make sure he’s facing east.”

“Kuya! She’s in the area, help me pry the jaws open!” the younger Kambal shouts to his older brother, who dodges a leaping mailap and quickly flies up to his aid.

“What’s the plan?” Crispin asks, and Basilio shrugs.

“I don’t know, she just asked me to do it!”

Before Crispin could question Basilio, a shot rings throughout the building, and the magubat collapses. The Kambal let go of the heavy jaws and flew away, watching the near-twenty foot aswang crush a few of its regular-sized kind. Upon closer inspection, a bullet has torn its way through the roof of its mouth. It’s a clean shot. The magubat isn’t regenerating, much to the Kambal’s surprise.

It’s a pleasant surprise, nonetheless.

“That’s for trying to eat my brother,” Crispin spits, kicking the dead aswang’s head.

Soon, more of the aswang started dropping like flies, too. Razed by bullets from an unknown assailant, the House of Arko aswangs started to panic.

“Wait a minute, I know manananggals who follow the queen can shoot, but Sabina is a sniper? Do you know about this, Bas?” Crispin exclaims, tearing his eyes away from the dead magubat to face yet another wave of mabangis.

“No! Damn, she’s using special bullets too. Where’d she get those?” Basilio mutters. A mailap attempts an ambush attack, and before he could react, Basilio watches it get shot mid-air as it attempts to jump him.

“You’re mine,” Sabina hisses, her voice crackling through Basilio’s phone speaker, smooth through the static.

Her emphasis on the word “mine” made goosebumps ripple through Basilio’s arm.

“Hot. Could you say that again?”

What he got instead was a groan. “Fuck, don’t distract me Basilio. I’m not here for fun.”

“You seem to be having fun shooting House of Arko’s minions though.”

“Fair. You two better look for the hostages. I have a bone to pick with this lot.”

The Kambal looks at each other, and nods. Glass shatters as they fly out the building’s windows, to the upper floors. After taking care of the guards, they saw them. Men and women in cages, all naked, and herded like livestock.

“Please, help us,” one of them whimpers, crawling to the front of the cage and grabbing Crispin by the arm. She’s dirty, and her belly is swollen. Basilio turned on the lights and they saw it clear as day: most of these women are pregnant. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what was going on.

House of Arko farms their food, breeding humans like livestock, and harvesting fetuses from them.

Sirens are blaring outside, both from police cars and ambulances, waiting for the hostages to be rescued.

All is well, or so they thought.

“Fuck!”

The cry came from their informant’s line.

“Everything alright?” Basilio asks her after fishing his phone out of his breast pocket.

“There are a few of them who found my vantage point. They’re heading towards my position.”

“Get out of there already, the hostages are secure.”

“They saw me. I can’t let them report back to Mama Grande and her sons that a manananggal is helping you. Suspicion would fall on my clan.”

Crispin nudges his younger brother. “I’ll handle the hostages and wait for Bossing. You make sure our informant’s alright.”

“Way ahead of you kuya,” Basilio replies, taking his guns out and flying out the window.

Under the pale moonlight and the city’s lights, Basilio spots a group of aswang scaling a dilapidated building east of him. On the rooftop, he sees it. Wings black as night, flattened against the concrete. Sabina lies prone and is aiming her scoped hunting rifle downwards, picking off the advancing horde one by one.

“Time to play.” The demigod rushes in and makes bullets rain on the hostiles.

He takes out a mabangis approaching their sniper from her blind spot. Those who didn’t die from being shot fell to their death, regeneration halted either by his or Sabina’s doing.

Basilio descends on the rooftop, and he walks his way towards the manananggal. His mask dematerialized, and the wind tousled his long hair. Just to be safe, he kept a pistol in one hand.

Across him, Sabina takes out her wireless earbuds and puts them away. Then, she slings her rifle on her shoulder, safety on. With her wings, she crawled towards his direction, like how a bat would move. Then, uses her wings’ sharp claws to plant herself on the concrete, a feat regular bats couldn’t do.

“Thanks for the help, Sab. About that gig…”

Before any more words could come out of his mouth, Sabina holds up her forefinger and presses it against his lips. “Shh. No more apologizing about the missed gig. Just make up for it. You owe me.”

Basilio nods, smiling at her. He watches as Sabina fishes out a box of cigarettes and a lighter from her vest. She’s wearing a black, long-sleeved polo shirt underneath it, and its sleeves are rolled up. Her shirt was unbuttoned just enough for him to catch a glimpse of lace peeking through. For all her boyish, edgy posturing, her choice of underclothes is girlier than what Basilio expected.

It almost makes him want to unwrap her like a Christmas present, but he’ll keep that thought to himself.

“Nice outfit. You were rehearsing in that?”

“We had a presentation for a class. No time to get changed. Now there’s a hole in the back, so I might as well wear this more often on future operations,” Sabina replies, placing a stick of Marlborough Reds between her lips.

“I’m in the mood for a smoke and maybe a chat,” she continues. “Join me?”

Basilio nods.

“How did you know about House of Arko’s human trafficking thing, anway?”

“Believe it or not, it was a hunch,” Sabina explains, black fingernails scratching the sparkwheel several times. “Ugh, fucking lighter dying on me again. I just had it refilled… must be the wind,” she growls.

Basilio couldn’t help but chuckle at her frustration. “A hunch?”

“Hmm… maybe hunch isn’t the right word. It’s an educated guess. Mama Grande loved serving boiled fetuses to her house guests, correct?”

Basilio nods, waiting for Sabina to continue her explanation.

“I suppose that it’s my place to judge if their mothers didn’t want to raise them… I’m a manananggal, for fuck’s sake. But there’s one red flag House of Arko failed to hide. From what I can tell, those fetuses are around five to eight months old.”

Sabina’s lighter finally lit up, and with a triumphant laugh, she lit her cigarette. Then, she carries on with her explanation.

“Most abortions happen during the first three months of pregnancy. It’s rare to see expecting parents get rid of them that late.”

“So? What does that have to do with the whole thing?”

“House of Arko serving older fetuses could mean one of two things: either all, and I mean all of the abortions they performed are from those who are truly in need of one that late, or they’re getting them from another source, possibly an illicit one. They don’t have the most benevolent reputation, so my intuition tells me it was the latter. So, I paid the place a visit and recorded what I could. I guess I should be thankful that your bossing found that blurry video trustworthy enough,” Sabina concluded, watching as the victims were clothed and herded into ambulances.

Dumbfounded, Basilio scratches his head. “Wow. Glad you’re on our side. How did you know that three month thing anyway?”

“Research and personal accounts.” Sabina’s response is clipped. Cold. Abrupt. It only raised more questions than answers.

“Personal accounts? You’ve met people who got them?”

There’s a flash of regret in Sabina’s eyes; regret that she opened her mouth and let him know more than needed. She cuts him off. “I can’t put my informants’ identities in jeopardy either now, can I?”

Per his older twin’s advice, Basilio’s finally using the head between his shoulders. “No offense, but you’re a manananggal. Y’know, known for eating babies? Hearing that from you is suspicious.”

“Yes, I am,” Sabina says through gritted teeth, glaring at him. “I can assure you, I’m following the accords and I’m not exploiting loopholes like what House of Arko is doing. I’ll reveal everything in due time.”

“Alright, keep your secrets. For now.”

A tense silence has befallen them.

“So- '' the manananggal blows a cloud of smoke away from Basilio, “-is this going to be a regular thing? Because if it is, I might finally quit smoking. Nicotine makes my hands shaky. Can’t risk accidentally shooting your ass.” She pauses, looking at him in jest. “ I’d rather do that intentionally.”

“You’re breaking my heart, Sabina Marie,” Basilio retorts, clutching his chest in mock pain.

They share a laugh over it, the mood lightening up.

Basilio looks in the distance, taking in the view of the cityscape. “Maybe you should quit. Singers shouldn’t be smoking in the first place.”

“The tar helps me belt out raspy screams, but yeah, you’re right,” Sabina chuckles.

“So, when is this next gig?”

“Next week. In Ilocos Norte. All the way up in House of Arko’s ancestral home.”

“Should I take that info to Bossing?”

“Yep. It’s open to the supernatural public anyway, so it's not like I’m giving you top secret info. Even the wind tribe is invited, despite their bad blood with my clan. Hopefully things won’t get physical. Most of my sisters are still bitter over how they blew us away when my mom- I mean, Inang Reyna decided to side against the Treses.”

So that explains some things.

“I dunno, maybe I should bring Ammie so I can watch the two of you in a catfight.”

Sabina elbows him in the chest, hard.

“Not funny at all, Basilio. I don’t even know her personally! It’s you I was pissed at.”

Now he grabs his chest in genuine pain as he croaks out an apology. “Sorry.”

“Whatever. Bring whoever the hell you want, just keep your distance from me when you decide to go. Even my father’s going to be there. I need to be on my best behavior.”

The demigod turns to their aswang informant, interest piqued. She’s divulging a lot of information. Perhaps he can sway her to spill more secrets.

“Didn’t know that the Reyna Manananggal had a king.”

“Oh, no. She’s not the type to share her power with a man.” Sabina pauses to take another hit of her cigarette. “I meant my biological father. Villaceran.”

Now that was unexpected.

“You drop bombshell after bombshell whenever we meet. Tomas Dominic Villaceran’s your old man?”

“Look at me. I’m almost the splitting image of the guy. If there’s one thing I’m grateful for, it’s inheriting his good looks.”

Basilio grins. “Can’t deny that. Most of the manananggal kuya Crispin and I encountered look...”

“Hideous, I know,” Sabina says outright. “You still haven’t seen that side of me, so don’t be too quick to judge my sisters.”

Basilio treads carefully, knowing that he might be prying on a sensitive subject. “So, about Villaceran…”

“I’d rather not talk about him. Our relationship is… strained.”

Giving her a sympathetic, understanding look, Basilio nods. “Right. Never mind.”

Another interval of silence passes between them. This time, it’s a little somber.

“So, does this party have a dress code?”

“Yeah. Filipiniana. Wear a barong. It’s one of those pretentious events that attempts to make House of Arko more appealing to the masses or whatever. Manipulative assholes.”

“You can just refuse to go, Sab.”

“I could, but being Trese’s mole among the aswang means I have to attend clan activities to supply more information. That also means attending every single party those Arko fucks throw.”

“You really hate House of Arko, huh?”

Looking towards his direction to meet his gaze, Sabina’s eyes are filled with a sea of emotions. Hatred, indignation, and something Basilio couldn’t quite place.

“Why wouldn’t I? Mama Grande raised boys who can’t take no for an answer. The Arko brothers have no respect for us manananggal. As if we weren’t fetishized enough in Manong Karma’s stupid aswang dating book...”

Sabina clears her throat and calms herself down. Bad blood between aswang clans could mean war. Basilio knows he should take that to the boss. His gears are turning tonight. He asks Sabina questions that could risk her support.

“Is that why you agreed to be an informant? You wanna bring House of Arko down? Then what, your clan will fill the space they’ll leave?”

“What? No, I have no desire for power, not like how Mama Grande or my own mother does anyway. My personal gripes with them aside, the House of Arko wants to ‘unite the aswang under one banner’ with no respect to the other clans’ autonomy and customs.”

“So you wanna protect your clan?”

“That’s one of the reasons, yes. Mama Grande’s been trying to play kumare with mom- I mean Inang Reyna-” This is the second time Sabina slipped and called her mom. She clears her throat and composes herself. “And I need to stop that. Inang Reyna already made the mistake of going against the Accords once. Allying with the House of Arko will ruin us further.”

Basilio leans in closer. “And what are your other reasons?”

Sabina looks at him for a few, quiet seconds, and looks away. “I’ll reveal them-”

“In due time. Yeah, yeah, I can take that as an answer. So, making you sing in that event is a result of them being magkumare?”

A defeated laugh bubbles from Sabina’s chest. “You got it.”

“I’m surprised they didn’t invite sirena to sing.”

Sabina rolls her eyes and tosses the butt of her expended cigarette on the concrete. Basilio took it upon himself to crush the embers under his heel, seeing how her lower half is hidden someplace else.

“Oh please, this is House of Arko we’re talking about, Bas. They believe aswang are superior. Letting them shine would take away the spotlight from the aswang. Mama Grande asked for me from Inang Reyna so they can gloat that even aswang can make better singers than the famed sirena. Ugh, I doubt my singing style even matches the performance they want from me.”

“Oh yeah? What kind of performance are they going for?” he asks her.

“Now that’s another secret. You have to show up to find out,” she hums in response.

Turning away from him, Sabina checks how many sticks are left in the box. Two. She takes one and lights it up.

“Screw it, I’m going cold turkey. I guess this will be my final box. Maybe for tonight. Maybe forever.”

“Then maybe you should stop with the stick you’re smoking and throw the last one away,” Basilio suggests.

“Are you mad? That’s a waste of money!”

“Still counting your blessings even with your mama’s wealth huh?”

“Old habits die hard.”

Sabina blows smoke away from Basilio’s direction. The wind made it waft to his face anyway, and she mumbles a quick apology. He shrugs it off. Not like the adverse effects of secondhand smoke affected him anyway. Hank smoked and was polite enough to turn away too, but Basilio can still smell it. He didn’t mind it. Still, Hank had told him and Crispin that it was a tough habit to break, so he never touched a cigarette.

Not until now.

Basilio takes the box from Sabina and picks up the last stick with his lips. Then, he inches closer to her.

Ironically, in an attempt to help an old friend quit her smoking habit, Basilio engages in it himself.

Little did he know, a new bad habit was forming between him and the little lady before him.

“I’ll make sure it won’t go to waste then. Light me.”

Sabina raises an eyebrow. “Just don’t start at all. Give it back.”

“One smoke isn’t going to get me hooked, princess.”

Brows knitted together, Sabina chastises him. “Take it from me, bad habits start with just one little taste, Bas.”

“One little taste never hurts anyone...”

“One little taste could leave you wanting for more.”

Basilio can feel himself getting hot under the collar. He’d never thought an aswang of all creatures could make him feel all bothered, yet there he was, getting turned on by her choice of words.

“Princess, are we still talking about cigarettes, or something else?”

Hearing his question, Sabina exhales sharply through her nose, cheeks dusted pink. “Maybe both. Whatever. Come here.”

Black fingernails scratched at the sparkwheel. Sparks were flying, but there was no flame. The cigarette remained unlit.

“Well, it looks like fate isn’t letting you smoke, so better just give me the damn cigarette back, Basilio.”

With a sly look, Basilio closes in on her, and presses the end of his cigarette to the embers at the end of hers, linking them together.

To his surprise, Sabina is neither backing away nor babbling defensively like she usually does whenever he gets close. Instead, she presses her chest to his, a challenging look in her half-lidded eyes. She wasn’t wearing her glasses like usual, giving Basilio an unobstructed view of her heated gaze. Was it bloodlust or desire? Either way, it got his blood pumping.

“You’re chattier than usual tonight,” Basilio comments. “Bolder too. I like that.”

In the form she’s in now, Sabina’s eyes glowed an eerie white, and aside from the wings sprouting from her back, little horns sprouted from her scalp, the root concealed by her crown of short, wavy hair. Basilio didn’t pay mind to her dangling guts, instead, his eyes were transfixed on that cute little lace bra again.

Through the layers of cloth between them, he can feel her heart beating. Basilio faintly remembers the taste of human and sigbin hearts.

Now, what does aswang heart taste like?

A dark part of his psyche- perhaps from being Datu Talagbusao’s son- wanted to tear it out of her chest and eat it to find out.

Basilio felt the urge to taste all the battles she fought through her blood, and possess her heart in a way no other person can.

The memory of seeing his father tasting his mother’s blood inserts itself in the present, and the fear of turning into the monster he was is enough for him to shake that thought away.

Basilio tries to focus on something else.

His eyes wander to Sabina’s mouth. He might’ve imagined something else between her dark lips, in place of the cigarette. Something bigger.

Something of his.

Sabina’s been pliable tonight. Perhaps he’ll push his luck with her one last time.

“So, any plans tonight, dear princess?”

“Unless you intend to treat me like one, don’t call me that.”

“I’m done with work, so if you want me to make good on that and make up for my mistake…”

Giggling, Sabina flies a few feet away from him. The black wings on her back are translucent against the pale moonlight. They almost looked like a dark shade of red.

“Go tell your brother about the information I gave you for now, then meet up with me afterwards. I hid my lower half in an alleyway behind that motel,” she tells him, pointing to the building’s direction.

“If you’re lucky, you’ll get to rearrange my guts. Literally and figuratively.” Sabina continues, a naughty smirk blooming on her lips.

Taken aback by the pun, Basilio laughs. “I didn’t think you were capable of dirty jokes.”

“You should know by now that I’m full of secrets and surprises.”

Grinning darkly, Basilio finishes the rest of his cigarette as he watches her fly away.

“And I’ll uncover them all, dear princess.”

Translations:

ulol - crazy; Filipino profanity

gago/gaga - foolish or stupid; Filipino profanity

tangina - contraction of putang ina, lit. whore mother. Used as an expression to express irritation, anger, or astonishment

Inang Reyna - lit. Queen Mother.

mare/kumare - derived from the Spanish word madre/comadre; kumare a reciprocal appellation for the godmother or for the child's mother. In a more modern and colloquial context, it’s used to refer to a female friend. Magkumare means women who are friends with each other.

Filipiniana - Philippine related book and non-book material

barong - also known as Barong Tagalog. An embroidered long-sleeved formal shirt for men and a national dress of the Philippines.

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todorokibois · 3 years

Text

Brat - Katsuki Bakugo X Reader {M}

Disclaimer: Katsuki is aged up to about 21, as are all characters in my fics.

Genre: Smut (Dom/Sub themes, slight humiliation, Mistress, Bakugo is a brat)

Pairing: Katsuki X Reader

Words: 3,966

A/n: Came up with this idea while I was rewatching some bnha the other day, and I thought to myself, I think it’s time for someone to put Bakugo in his place. Thus, this idea was born. I hope you enjoy, please let me know what you think!

Summary: The one in which you’ve had enough of Bakugo’s shit and decide to teach him some respect.

He’s been pushing your buttons all day. Every time you would suggest a plan to capture the criminals you’ve been chasing, he would counter your ideas, or go off and do his own thing. The worst was when he stormed into the building by himself, yelling at the villains to ‘stop being such little bitches’ and fight him head on. To say you’re frustrated would be an understatement.

Due to his attitude in the past, many other agencies refuse to work with him, leaving only a select few you can count on. You’re just lucky you have friends in those agencies, otherwise hero work might be a little bit more difficult to come by, especially when he goes off on his own like this, ignoring your direct orders.

It takes you all twice as long to capture the goons this time due to him nearly collapsing the building they were hiding in, completely ignoring the fact that you told him to wait for backup. Eventually, you managed to catch up to him and apprehend the villains you’ve been after, giving them to the authorities shortly after capture.

However, not only are you beyond frustrated, but you’re also embarrassed by how Katsuki has been acting lately. Given that you’re one of the top heroes working at your agency, your team is supposed to listen to your orders and follow them, especially when it comes to tasks like this. Katsuki, on the other hand, directly refuses to even acknowledge how you run things, which only makes you believe he has no respect for the agency’s code of conduct, nor you, especially when the two of you are at work.

You’re sick and tired of it, especially since the two of you are supposed to be partners, in more ways than one. You can’t count the amount of times you’ve overheard people commenting on your relationship because of this. Enough is enough, and you’ve decided you’re going to do something about this. It’s like he doesn’t have any respect for your authority.

This won’t be for long, though. Not if you have anything to say about it. Someone is going to have to put him in his place, and you know just the person to do it. You.

When the both of you get back to the agency building, your superior gave you both a massive scolding. Katsuki received a larger one than you, but you were still told to get him under control, lest the two of you want to be out of a job. The last thing the agency wants is their approval rating to go down in the eyes of the public, and Katsuki is already dangerously treading the edge.

“It’s your job to keep him under control, (Y/n),” your boss scolds you once the two of you are alone in their office.

“Yes, boss,” you reply, a sigh nearly escaping your lips for the umpteenth time that evening.

“Now go home and get some rest, tomorrow’s another day!” They say, sending you a tight smile as you nod politely and leave their office.

You say nothing as you pass Katsuki, expression remaining blank as your eyes blaze in anger. If anyone saw you, they’d think you look quite normal, but one look into your eyes and they’d know how pissed off you really are.

He huffs and rolls his eyes as you walk passed him, arms crossed as he follows you out to the car, “what? I got the job done, didn’t I?”

The only response he gets out of you is a glance at him out of the corner of your already narrowed eyes, only causing him to click his tongue in annoyance, “what?”

Sliding into the drivers side of the car, you remain silent. Turning the keys, you register him sliding in the passenger’s seat, teeth gritting against one another as he clenches his jaw. He tilts his head slightly upwards, his nose in the air as he looks over at you from the corner of his eyes.

“Are you really going to ignore me now, dumbass?” He scoffs as you remain silent. “Fine, I didn’t want to talk anyways.”

Usually, you’d be cussing him out by now, voices raised as you argue your whole drive back to your shared house about what has transpired this evening. To say your silence is slightly unnerving to him would not be an exaggeration. He has a feeling that you’ll probably lay into him as soon as you get home, and that anticipation alone is eating away at him. Believe it or not, he can’t stand you actually being upset at him, and he can tell you’re furious.

Your grip is tight on the steering wheel the whole ride home. Every so often, you can feel Katsuki’s gaze drift over to look at you, though he still defiantly holds his head high. Each time you let out a tense sigh, he tenses slightly, waiting for you to blow up at him like he knows you can.

The longer this goes on, the more nervous he gets. Did he finally go overboard? Will you forgive him this time like you have all the other times he’s disobeyed your orders? It’s not like anyone got hurt this time, so he doesn’t understand why you’re so upset. In fact, you should be used to this by now.

Each second that goes by with this tense silence lingering in the air feels like an eternity to him, and by the time you’re pulling into the driveway he nearly breathes a sigh of relief. As you’re unlocking the front door, he figures he’ll attempt to talk to you again, wanting at least some sense of normalcy to come back to the two of you.

Stepping inside, he lets out an irritated huff, “look, if you’re saving the big lecture for when we get inside, you should just-“

His voice dies in his throat as you push him against the wall, the front door clicking shut beside you.

“You never know when to keep that big mouth of yours shut, huh, Katsuki?” You tut, shaking your head in disappointment. “You know, if you actually put it to good use, instead of spewing your typical bullshit…”

“The fuck are you talking about, (Y/n)?” He counters, brows furrowed.

“I’m talking about how this is the last time you’re going to disrespect me like that, you fucking brat,” you spit, pushing him harder into the wall with your arm across his chest.

“Oh, please,” he rolls his eyes, “if I hadn’t gone ahead-“

“Enough, Katsuki,” you cut him off, eyes hard as your gaze meets his. “This is the last time you pull something like this. I’ve put up with it for this long because I care about you, and it usually all works out in the end, but not anymore. It’s time you learned some respect.”

He scoffs, “and I suppose you’re going to teach me?”

“Damn right I am,” comes your immediate reply, and you can tell he isn’t expecting it. “It’s time someone knocked you down a few pegs, brat, and I’ll be happy to do it.”

A humourless puff of air escapes him, “I’d like to see you try.”

“Oh, baby,” you grin, “I’ve already started.”

At your words, his brow furrows further in confusion until he feels you arm shift slightly, allowing for your hand to rest at the base of his throat. His eyes go wide as he feels your fingers gently brushing over his skin, almost teasingly against his throat, your body now pushing into his fully.

“Like I said, you’ve always had such a loud mouth, Katsuki,” you stare into his eyes, and you know he’s watching you, waiting to see what your next move will be. “You’ve always needed someone to discipline you properly, to tell you ‘no’ and actually mean it. To bring you to your knees and make you beg-”

Before you can say another word, he cuts you off, “like hell I’d ever beg for anything.”

Your eyes flash, grip squeezing slightly at the base of his throat in warning as he gasps, “don’t interrupt me again.”

You notice his eyebrow quirk slightly, his Adam’s apple bobbing against your hand as he swallows subtly, yet he nods once in understanding.

“As I was saying,” you sigh, “you will beg by the time I’m done with you tonight. After I’m done teaching you some respect. Though, I don’t think I’ll need to try very hard.”

To emphasize your point, you bring your free hand to his crotch, cupping his semi-hard cock in your hands and squeezing. He inhales sharply, gritting his teeth as he feels you gently caressing his growing erection, both loving and hating how much this is actually turning him on at the moment. You smirk.

“After all, I’ve barely done anything to you, and you’re already this turned on,” your voice is low as you lean in to whisper into his ear. A shiver runs down his spine as he feels your breath ghost over his neck, “pathetic.”

A small moan escapes his lips, immediately causing his eyes to widen, face turning red as you chuckle at his reaction. He attempts to get words out, but all he can do is splutter as you release your hold on him with a quirked brow, nails trailing down his chest teasingly until all he’s left with is the faintest ghost of your touch over his skin.

“Seems to me like you’re already begging for me to have my way with you,” you say as you take a few steps backwards and away from him.

He catches himself as he takes a small step towards you, gritting his teeth in frustration at what you’re doing to him. You watch as his fists clench at his sides, a fire igniting behind his irises. He’s putting up a front, and you can tell, one that’s close to cracking.

“Like hell I would,” he’s still, spine rigid as he watches you with defiance still shining in his eyes, along with something else. Something you’ve never seen before.

“Oh?” You quirk your brow once more, now taking small steps towards him as if you’re a cat stalking its prey, “you mean you don’t want to feel my hands all over your body, leaving marks for everyone to see? You don’t want to know what it’s like to be rewarded for being my good boy? You’d rather me not take care of that little situation you’ve got going on down there?” You trail your eyes over his body, gaze focusing on the tent now visible in his pants as he shifts slightly at the feeling of having your eyes on him like this. “Damn, Katsuki, I knew you were masochistic, but you shouldn’t let your pride get in the way all of the time.” You’re close enough to him now to trail a teasing finger across his chest. “Especially not at a time like this.”

He scowls, but you can see it doesn’t fully reach his eyes. He’s intrigued by your whole demeanour tonight, for he’s never really seen you act this way before. He always knew you could be demanding, a true leader that he honestly wouldn’t mind following anywhere you told him to, but he’s never had this directed towards him. Well, he’s never felt you mean it like this before.

Maybe he wanted this to happen. Maybe he wanted to see how far he could push you before you snapped and put him in his place. Maybe he’s been desperate for you to use him like he’s used you. The countless times throughout your relationship where he’s made you weak for him, made you beg him for more has made him want the same from you. Maybe, just maybe, there’s something more to it. Maybe he just wants to see how far you’re willing to go. Maybe, he just wants you to make him beg.

“I don’t let my pride get in the way,” he grumbles, as you take a step back to distance yourself from him once more. His gaze darts to the side as he crosses his arms in front of his chest, just waiting for you to do something to him.

“Sure you don’t,” you chuckle, now standing right in front of him.

The two of you stare at one another for a few moments, the tension of anticipation lingering in the air between you. He can’t help but hold his breath as he watches your one hand come back up to cup his face, patting his cheek affectionately in the next moment.

“Once you’ve swallowed that pride of yours, brat, I’ll be waiting in the bedroom,” with a final smile that simply screams nothing but trouble for him, you’re turning around and heading up the stairs, leaving him standing there, stunned, in the front entranceway.

Letting out a frustrated growl, he shakes his head. No way in hell is he leaving things like this. There’s a part of him that wants to march right into your shared room and show you who you belong to. To put you in your place for teasing him like that. However, there’s another part of him that cannot help the way his heart races in excitement as he thinks of what you might have in store for him once he makes it upstairs.

The fire behind his eyes is still burning once he throws open the door, only for his steps to falter as he sees you casually changing your shirt. His gaze trails down your torso, swallowing slightly as he watches you turn around, you not wearing anything at all on your upper half.

“Took you long enough, brat,” you tut, shaking your head as you walk over to him, now frozen in the doorway. He’s seen you plenty of times without a shirt on, hell, even without a bra for that matter, but there’s something about your aura this time that makes whatever retort he’s about to say die in his throat. This time, you look serious, and he just knows he’s in for a long night. “What, no smart-ass remark?”

Your lips tugs upwards into a grin, arms crossing across your chest, only serving to emphasize the curve of your breasts. His mouth practically salivates at the thought of finally getting to touch you after what you did to him downstairs. He’s never gotten this worked up like this in such a short period of time before, and he wants to see what you’ll do to him next.

“Are you finally going to listen to me for once?” You ask, tilting your head slightly as you continue to stare at him expectantly.

“I always listen to you,” he responds grumpily.

“There’s that smart mouth of yours again,” you shake your head in mock disappointment. “Now, see, we wouldn’t be in this mess right now if that were the case. So, we’re going to start at lesson one: do exactly what I say, without question.”

He laughs in disbelief despite feeling the way his cock twitches in excitement in his pants at your words, “like hell I’ll do that.”

“Did I fucking stutter, Katsuki?” Your hands are on your hips now as you stare him down. “Now, I want you to get on your knees.”

“Excuse me?” He shoots you an incredulous look, not believing what you’ve just told him to do.

“I said,” you breathe, closing your eyes briefly as you walk towards him, grabbing him harshly by the back of his hair and pushing him down onto the floor beneath you, “on your fucking knees.”

A gasp escapes him as he feels his knees make contact with the floor, loving the way your hand feels harshly gripping his hair, forcing him to look up at you. Tugging at his hair causes a low groan to escape his lips, causing him to flush red in embarrassment once more.

“What did I say?” You hum, “you’re practically begging to be put in your place.”

“That’s not-“ he begins to protest, but a strangled moan escapes his throat as you tug on his hair once more.

“You were saying?” You smirk, only receiving another scowl in response. “Lesson two: right here, right now, you will address me as your Mistress. Do I make myself clear?”

“What? Like hell I’m calling you tha-“

“Do I make myself clear?”

Another tug at his hair has him biting his lip before conceding, “yes, Mistress.”

“Good boy,” you release the hold your hand has on his hair in order to bring your hand down to cup his face gently. He stares up at you defiantly, but you can see the excitement growing in his eyes. He’s wanted this for a while now, and he can feel his cock straining against his jeans, practically begging for your touch. “Now, I think you should make it up to me, given the way you’ve acted today, don’t you?”

“Yeah, right-“

“What was that?” Your hand grips his chin, forcing him to stare directly into your eyes as a sadistic smile rests on your face.

He huffs slightly, eyes avoiding yours now as he grumbles out, “yes, Mistress.”

“Glad you agree,” you hum, releasing you grip on him in order to undo your pants. “We’re going to put that mouth of yours to good use, and maybe by then I’ll have thought of a suitable punishment for a brat such as yourself.”

At this, it’s his turn to quirk a brow at you, watching as you strip yourself of the rest of your clothes in front of him. He smirks, drinking in your figure before him and admiring every curve you have to offer. If this is his punishment, he’ll gladly take it. After all, he can’t wait to have you begging for him later tonight.

“Lesson three:” you begin to say, positioning yourself right in front of him, your hips in his line of sight. His mouth salivates at the thought of getting to taste you as your one leg comes to rest over his shoulder, hand now back in his hair. Just as he’s about to bring his hands up to help steady your figure more, your voice is halting his movements, “no touching me if you still want to come tonight.”

“Huh?” He recoils slightly, eyes wide as his cock throbs, reminding him of how painfully hard he’s become already, and once again he’s reminded how you have still yet to touch him.

“You heard me, baby,” you smirk down at him, fingers tightening their hold slightly in his hair. “Hands behind your back; no touching unless I say so. Now, put that mouth to good use.”

Without waiting for a response, you push his head down. Putting his hands behind his back, his eyes flick briefly to yours before he’s attaching his mouth to you, sucking your clit into your mouth before flicking it a few times with his tongue.

One thing you can always count on Katsuki for is his need to be the best. No matter what he does, he’s always proving to everyone that he can do anything better than anyone else. No one compares to him, and even if he’d rather you be sucking his cock first right now, he’ll prove to you that he does in fact, deserve to come tonight. That, and he can listen. He wants to make you feel good, always, and seeing this side of you has sparked a new flame of desire for you in him. He’ll be your good boy, but he’s going to make you work for it.

Throwing your head back, you let out a moan, feeling him lick at your entrance with his tongue before moving it back up to flick at your clit. Your sounds are music to his ears, and he never grows tired of hearing his name fall from your lips, especially during these times. He only wishes he could touch you back, to tease you like you’ve been teasing him. However, he’ll do what he can for now, eating you out like a man starved, moving his tongue just how you like.

By now, your hand is gently stroking the top of his hair, brushing it out of his face so he can maintain eye contact with you as you grind your pussy on his mouth. You can feel the rumble of approval he lets out from his chest as you tug on his hair every now and then, only causing you to smirk.

“See, baby,” you comb your fingers through his hair for emphasis, “you do know how to properly use that mouth of yours.” His eyes flash and he renews his efforts tenfold. Again, he wants to prove to you that he can do it, to please you in a way that only he can. A low groan escapes your lips, “that’s it, baby boy, just like that.”

The nails of his right hand dig harshly into the skin of his left wrist, wanting nothing more than to grip your thighs and pull you into him so you cannot escape the pleasure he’s giving you. He can feel his chest swelling with pride with each jolt of your hips into his face, letting him know you’re enjoying this, too. Except, he can feel himself becoming greedy; he wants more.

“You gonna make me come?” A growl is all you get in response. “Come on, baby, make me come all over that pretty mouth of yours.”

His chest is heaving as a feral look takes over his eyes. Seeing you above him like this has awakened some part of him he never knew he had, and he loves the control you have over him right now. All he wants to do is please you, to make you feel good and be your good little boy until you can’t take it anymore. This is what he deserves, what you deserve.

With a few more sucks of your clit into his mouth, you can feel yourself tipping over the edge. Your hands bury themselves in his hair, tugging harshly at the roots as you anchor yourself to him, his tongue continuing to work you through your orgasm as your eyes flutter closed.

A breathless moan of his name slips passed your lips, and his whole body twitches, gut clenching in ecstasy. His eyes watch your every movement as you still above him, your head thrown back as you attempt to catch your breath.

“That’s my good boy,” you breathe, removing your leg from his shoulder as you steady yourself onto your own two feet. He smirks subtly as he watches you sway slightly, knowing that he’s the one who’s done that to you. “Now, on your feet, baby.”

As soon as he goes to move, the smirk is falling right off his face. His pants are no longer uncomfortably tight, but instead, he can feel stickiness pooling against his skin as the material rubs against his sensitive cock.

“What’s the matter, baby boy?” You tilt your head mockingly as your eyes glance down to see the dark wet patch on his jeans. A sadistic smile spreads itself across your lips, eyes glinting darkly. “How cute,” you hum, “was the thought of my wet cunt on your lips that tempting to make you come untouched?”

“Shut up,” he growls, cheeks flaring once more as he avoids you gaze.

“How sweet,” you purr, walking over to the bed and kneeling on it. You notice him starting to head towards the bathroom to clean himself up before your voice has him halting in his tracks, “where do you think you’re going? I’m not done with you yet.”

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shinjaeha · 3 years

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so i KEEP thinking about itsay and i just need to rant (to nobody) about how perfectly teh and oh-aew balance one another out. teh’s def the more impulsive of the two...he’s so reactive. as soon as he sees oh-aew’s done something to (unintentionally) offend him in some way, he needs to do something back. it’s the pettiness of it for me, but it’s also makes him so wonderfully interesting as a character bc everything he feels is so real?? that feeling of being jealous that your friend is spending more time with other people?? or that they’ve told a secret to everyone else when you thought it was just supposed to be something between the both of you?? it’s so damn realistic. i feel like everyone’s had those fleeting moments of jealousy and possessiveness over a friend, where you just can’t HELP it. i think most of us don’t really let it take over us, but the feeling itself is just so true to life (and something i have 100% experienced). of course, there’s a hidden element in teh’s case bc he’s got romantic feelings for oh-aew (which he hasn’t quite fully realised yet), but even on a friendship level those feelings of jealousy and possessiveness are just so incredibly normal and relatable.

so every time teh does something petty...like trying to take an ig pic just like oh-aew’s, or giving him the silent treatment for oh-aew telling the gang that he’s a virgin, or the silent treatment again/making everyone flash cards bc of bas tutoring him...while it makes me want to grab him by the arms and shake some sense into him, it’s ALSO something i can understand. i can understand being taken by those impulses and wanting to act petty bc i’m mad at someone. it’s so human. it’s so real. what i absolutely love about teh though is that even though he has these bursts of pettiness, he does try to talk to oh-aew about how he feels (he’s just also understandably very confused by all his feelings atm). it made me so happy when he told oh-aew about how he didn’t feel special after oh-aew told the gang his secret. and happier still when he went to the boat to try to talk to oh-aew (even though he wasn’t able to start the conversation) bc he at least knew there was something he needed to say to oh-aew, and it was clearly taking a lot for him to even go there and take the first step in the first place (his fault or otherwise).

and what makes oh-aew such a great counter balance to teh is that he seems to be the exact opposite of teh. he’s more cautious and careful about things. def nowhere near the same level of impulsive that teh is. you can see it in how he chooses not to pursue bas as opposed to how teh pursues tarn. tbh if teh wasn’t trying to help oh-aew and bas to succeed, he’d prob never do anything about it. he’d just let it go and move on once they graduated. it’s bc of how oh-aew is so much more level headed that he starts the conversation with teh. that he can sit down and try to understand WHY teh might be treating him the way he’s being treated. if he were as hot-headed as teh is, he might just leave yet again and end things the way they did as children. but he’s older now and he’s willing to listen, but also reprimand teh for not properly communicating how he feels bc oh-aew can’t read his mind!! how is oh-aew ever supposed to know how teh’s feeling if he’s just going to give him the silent treatment instead of tell him.

the scene on the boat where they talked to one another was so, so beautiful. i love that they have their misunderstandings, but they KNOW what happened that first time they let the misunderstanding fester...how the both of them were too stubborn to start the conversation, and because of that lost touch, and now they’re both trying what they can to make sure that they actually TALK to one another. even if they still have their moments of anger bc of all these new feelings. they know what miscommunication did to their relationship the first time and are not gonna let history repeat itself.

i also just think it’s so beautiful how you can see how their personalities are still so similar to when they were kids. the way teh’s impulsiveness/idealism is there from the start...in the way he watches that chinese show on tv and immediately proclaims that he wants to be an actor. in the way he focuses wholeheartedly on getting into his communications major with no other backups. in the way he’s constantly pursuing tarn even though she’s told him that they can only be official after their studies are done.

compare that to the more cautious/pragmatic oh-aew who doesn’t know what he wants to be until after he does the play before deciding he wants to become an actor too. who is thinking about changing some of his choices to business administration as a backup in case he doesn’t get into communications and has to takeover managing the resort from his parents. who doesn’t even want to try to win over bas when he already thinks it’s a hopeless cause. they’re like yin and yang.

anyway, those are just some of the thoughts i felt like i had to get out of me bc they were tangling up my insides and i STILL have to wait another almost week for the next ep and i can’t stop thinking about this show!!!!!!!!!!!!!! the writing and the way they’ve tied things together so far have been top notch. i esp love the way they’ve written tarn bc !!!!!!!!!!!! we know that she’s going to be the one that teh leaves for oh-aew, but female love interests in BLs are hardly ever written well (they’re either evil or have no real personality and only serve as a plot point for the male lead to get over). just the fact that tarn already has a personality outside of teh?? that she has her own ambitions and drive?? that SHE was the one that made the move to kiss him when teh drew back from almost kissing her?? god, i just hope that they don’t mess that up and she comes out of this okay.

acting has also been phenomenal. bkpp have been absolutely killing it since the first ep (including the child actors!!). every scene between the both of them makes my heart ache, even when they’re being playful bc i’m so scared for where that’s going to take us all. their chemistry is just *chef’s kiss*. THE SCENE ON THE BOAT. my god, you could cut the tension with a knife it was so intense. so suffocating. the way i held my breath during that whole scene bc of just how well crafted everything was, and how it felt like that was somehow a tipping point for the both of them, slowly inching their way into realising that their feelings for one another might not just be quite so platonic after all. basically, i just know that everything after boat scene is gonna hit different in some way.

#i told sunset about you #itsay #bkpp #like i don't think they're there yet but i do think they'll prob wake up to the romantic feelings in the next ep #def looks like there's gonna be more jealousy for teh when oh-aew and bas get closer and that's gonna have to be some kind of wake up call #when teh was all 'i'll help you get bas!!' to oh-aew and i was like oh baby no you're gonna hurt yourself with this and u don't even know it #one day i'll shut about this show but prob not for the next 3 weeks or so #i'm so SAD this is so short bc it's been so incredibly good so far and i'm already gearing up for my heart to be absolutely smashed by this #i hope hope hope i'm wrong though #cue me listening to skyline yet AGAIN while i pine away for a new ep #anyway if you read this essay WHY but also thanks for coming to my ted talk!!!!!!!!!!!#text #oh aew and teh #otp

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sierraraeck · 3 years

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DeLeon (Pt.2)

BAU x OC Aundreya

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Summary: Aundreya and the team have to devise a plan to get Spencer back safely, which could mean tossing Aundreya back into the belly of the beast. Story twenty-four.

Category: Angst, but I end with some angsty-fluff?

Warnings: Cussing. Another kidnapping. Some torture, like getting hit, kicked, and some knife cuts involved. Think about that scene when Emily took a beating for Spencer in Minimal Loss. Forced drug use.

Word Count: 3.7k

A/N: Here we go again with more problems. But we might just fix them this time. Also, I’m not sure how accurate my drug information is.

The team was just outside listening to the audio coming through on the wire. It sounded pretty standard, Chambers and DeLeon making insulting arguments at one another, while also being cautious enough not to piss the other off too much. But it seemed like it was taking too long. Apparently, she’d been taken to the room where Spencer was, but they never heard his voice, not once. It’s like he wasn’t there, which worried them about his condition.

“What is taking her so long?” JJ asked, one of the most visibly worried about the situation. “She’s supposed to ‘take care of him’ whatever that means, and then get Spence out of there and call us for backup if needed. What’s the hold up?”

“Trust her,” Tara said, “She’ll pull through.”

“I kinda get what JJ’s saying, though,” Derek joined, “Something doesn’t feel right.”

“They’re talking, and since we can’t see what’s going on, maybe she’s just trying to further defuse the situation before she does something,” Tara continued, pointing out the logical explanations.

Right as Derek was about to agree and get back to work, Emily, who’d been the one currently listening in with Hotch, pulled her headphones off and said, “I think we have a problem. While I’ve been listening, Aundreya has made a couple comments that seem in her realm, but maybe just a little out of character. I started thinking back to the last time she was in contact with DeLeon, and she had more … I don’t know, I guess fiery moments, and dark humor, which isn’t really happening here.”

“It’s a different situation,” Tara stated. “Last time it was just her being tortured, now there’s someone else in the mix.”

“I know, but…” Emily trailed off with a hesitant grimace on her face. “We were also in danger, or at least she knew we were in possible danger.”

“What are you implying,” Hotch, who’d also taken his headphones off by now, asked.

“I don’t think it’s her talking.”

“What? It’s her voice,” Derek pointed out.

“Sure, but there’s technology nowadays that can recreate someone’s voice. As we know, DeLeon has plenty of sample recordings of her voice that he could’ve used,” Emily considered.

“So you think that he removed her wire and is playing a pre-recorded audio of them having a conversation?” Hotch confirmed. Emily nodded.

“How sure are we about this?” JJ asked, “Because if what we’re hearing is actually what is happening, and we go in there, we risk getting both of them killed.”

All eyes turned to Hotch and Prentiss. “Prentiss?”

She shook her head, “I don’t know. I just don’t have a good feeling.”

Hotch and Prentiss exchanged a look, then he turned his eyes to the rest of the team. Sighing, he lifted one side of the headphones to his ear. A heavy silence fell over the team as Hotch continued listening, waiting for his decision.

Finally, Hotch put the headphones down and faced the team. “I want you all ready.”

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

Pass out counter: 2.

I felt outside of my body. It was an experience I’d had multiple times, but not since my days in the Cloaks and the ring. I was struggling to remember how we’d gotten to this point, actually.

‘You or him?’

‘Me.’

He came back with a case filled with glass vials, his other hand holding onto a syringe.

‘What is that?’

‘Now I know your drug of choice, Aundreya, but in case you change your mind, what’s his?’

‘He’s not on drugs.’

‘Not recently, no. But I know he has a history.’

‘You don’t need to know. I’m not changing my mind.’

‘Fine. I’ll get that fine mixture of fentanyl and pcp together. Remember what happened last time you were on that?’

‘Of course I do.’

‘You’re poor friend, Sydney, was it? Had it not been for this drug, and your weakness, she might still be alive.’

He was right. I couldn’t go back on that drug. It was really the only one that got to me, like really got to me. The only one that made me feel out of my mind anymore. High. It took me so long to get off it, I couldn’t just let him force me back on it.

But I couldn’t let him force Spencer back on dilaudid. That would be so much worse. He worked just as hard as I had to kick that habit, and his mind was more valuable to the team than mine, so I would have to go through with it.

‘Last chance to change your mind, Aundreya.’

‘I won’t.’

‘Dilaudid! My drug is dilaudid. Don’t put her back on that.’

God Spencer, I love you but that was stupid. I had it under control.

‘Sorry, but this isn’t your choice. She already said yes.’

Then the needle plunged into my vein and now I was here. Completely out of it, and struggling to get back in it. My vision was fuzzy and I couldn’t be sure anything I was seeing was real, but I saw a figure, DeLeon, standing next to someone else that had to be Spencer. Spencer. What is he doing to Spencer?

What I saw was blood. Way too much of it. It was coming from Spencer and it had to’ve been because of DeLeon. My mind said he was dead, but I couldn’t be sure. My mind saw DeLeon beating him and using the same dagger he did on me only moments ago, but I couldn’t be sure. Had that only been moments ago? Had it been longer than that? I couldn’t be sure.

What I could be sure of, though, was that Spencer was in trouble, and I couldn’t feel a damn thing inside my body. I moved to walk toward them, but my body jerked back.

‘That’s why. She always gets a little antsy on that stuff.’

DeLeon must’ve done something to me. Something else. I wiggled around until I was aware enough to feel a metal pole between my shoulder blades. I pulled on my wrists but they were securely together.

There’s a second pole in here. Not chains, not rope. Zip ties, maybe?

I fought against my own mind to stay as mentally present as I could. Spencer relied on it.

Zip ties, zip ties, how to get out of zip ties?

My body was still as numb as a block of ice and as flexible as a rubber band. Flexible enough to stretch in a way it shouldn’t, all the way until it snapped. I felt the moment it popped, but I didn’t feel it. I slipped my wrists out of the zip ties, and had to use my one hand to grab and pull the other one forward. I evaluated my wrist before jolting the joint back into place. I was about to get up to walk toward DeLeon, when something flashed across my field of vision. I sat there paralyzed, doing my best to not make any sounds or sudden movements.

It’s not real, it’s not real. Don’t move or yell, that’ll draw attention to the progress you just made. It’s not real. Just make it through this. When you hallucinate you’re getting closer to the end of the high, and then you’ll have your mind back. It’s not real, make it through this, and then you can think enough to save Spencer. Save Spencer.

I waited until they subsided enough that I could open my eyes without feeling the need to throw up or pass out. I waited a couple more moments (you don’t have any more moments to waste! But you only have one chance so make sure it counts), and then I got up. I moved slowly at first, still not fully aware of my body, but the more I moved, the quicker my blood pumped and the quicker my head cleared. I looked around for any weapon I could use, but there weren’t any within my reach. DeLeon still had that dagger, and who knows what else behind that door he frequently disappeared behind, but I couldn’t get there without him seeing. I would have to go the old fashioned way.

I walked up behind him, slammed the knife out of his hand, and wrapped my arm around his neck. He started pounding on my arm but I couldn’t be bothered to feel it. He started backing up until he rammed me into the wall, once, twice, three times until it weakened my grip and I let go. When he spun around to face me, I was satisfied by the shocked look on his face.

“I-I thought that-”

“That I couldn’t get out of my head on this drug?” I finished, “I guess you underestimated me.” I went in for a kick, which landed, but the one that was sent back my way was equally as powerful. It was nice to have a clearer mind, but I had to admit that starting to feel some of the sensations in my body again was not nearly as nice, or advantageous. I went for a one-two, but he caught my arm and spun me around so my back was facing him. He drove me toward the wall, his signature move being to smash my head against it until I went unconscious, but I’d finally figured out how to avoid it. I let him push me, building momentum, because when I was a couple paces from the wall, I stuck my foot out. I planted one lower, followed by the other higher, and pushed off the wall into a backflip, landing right behind DeLeon. I grabbed the side of his neck and used his move against him, driving his head into the wall until he was on his knees. I picked up the blade from the ground, holding it at his throat as I stood behind DeLeon.

“Do it,” DeLeon challenged. Before I could respond, the doors came busting down around me. Coming in guns-a-blazing was the team.

“Chambers it’s okay, it’s over,” Emily’s soothing voice assured, “You can put that down now.”

I realized their guns were all aimed in our direction, DeLeon and I’s, and I realized that I probably looked like the dangerous one. I would’ve been insulted by her insinuating I was going to kill him, but she was right. I was going to. I was still thinking about doing it anyways.

“It’s never over. If you let me live, I will find a way to get to you. Just do it!” DeLeon screeched. I held the blade closer to his neck and gripped it harder as I looked around. I was truly worried he was right. Maybe the only way this ended was with him dead.

But then my eyes landed on Spencer. He was looking at me the same way he did before I killed that man in front of him in prison. I remembered how hurt he looked, betrayed even, when I did that. He whispered to me three simple little words, “You’ve done enough.”

And I guess I had.

I tossed the dagger to the side, much to DeLeon’s dismay, “No! I told you to do it! Just kill me already!”

I laughed, “If you wanted me to kill you, you should have just asked. No need to go through all of these games.”

Derek smirked as he tossed me his cuffs. I grabbed them out of the air, shoved DeLeon from his knees all the way onto the ground, and cuffed his hands behind his back.

“I’ll die in there,” DeLeon said.

“Oh I’m certain you will, one way or the other. You know, I do have a lot of friends,” I wickedly sang. “Plus, I thought that’s what you wanted.”

“No, not like that,” DeLeon confessed.

“He’s not worth your time,” Derek said, squatting down to get closer to our level, “He just wanted an epic end to his story. You,” he looked at me, “you were an epic end. Prison though? Much weaker.”

We exchanged a grin as I yanked DeLeon to standing. “I’ll find a way. You and your team will pay for this.”

I handed him to Derek who was even more aggressive with him than I was, and whispered, “You can’t get out like I can. You will have to live the rest of your life, however long, in prison knowing that when it came down to it, I still beat you. Despite everything you put me through, put my team through, we still beat you.”

Without another word, Derek dragged him out of the club. I turned to survey the rest of the team, and found that Spencer was getting released from the ropes that tied him to the pole. On shaking legs he stepped down from the stage, nearly collapsing as he did so. I was still pretty unbalanced myself, and stumbled over to him. I reached out, but retracted my hand. I couldn’t tell if he wanted to see me after everything I put him through, and I understood what Mateo meant when he said he wanted to touch me but was worried he would break me more. Spencer met my eyes, and the moment he did, I finally released all of the emotions I’d been holding in. The tears came like a river after a snowstorm, and Spencer pulled me in for the safest hug of my life. I heard him sniffling as the shoulder of my shirt dampened, his grip on me tightening with each passing second. I held him with as much strength as I could manage, fingers spread far so I could reach as much of him as possible. It was the most perfect, imperfect moment that I could’ve asked for.

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

I was really sick and tired of hospitals.

If they weren’t so goddamn helpful, I would burn them all to the ground.

Surprisingly, my injuries weren’t as bad as they were the last time I saw DeLeon, or Xena for that matter. Plus, I’d had enough doctors tell me what I needed to do, including Spencer, that I could probably become a doctor. I was relieved when they discharged us later that evening.

Before I had a chance to leave the hospital, Hotch pulled me aside. “I’m proud of you.”

I shyly smiled, “Why?”

“You acted very bureau-like today and conducted yourself very well.”

Oh. I let out a laugh through my nose, “So you're proud I didn’t kill him?”

Even he had to crack a small smile at that, but he honestly complimented, “It takes strength, strength I did not have when it was my turn.”

“That was completely different,” I defended him. I mean, Foyet had killed his wife and threatened his child.

“Maybe,” he shrugged, looking at the ceiling quickly before returning his attention to me, “But either way, you’ve grown and I’m proud of you for that.”

I smiled at him with a small nod, “Thank you.”

He nodded, but not in my wildest dreams did he open his arms for a hug. I was so shocked by the gesture that I almost stood there awkwardly staring at him, which I did for a second before I accepted. It was a very quick hug, but it got me grinning like a fool. Hotch doesn’t hug. But he just told me he was proud of me and hugged me. What universe have I entered?

When we pulled away, it was his turn to shyly smile and look down. “For everything.”

He nodded again, and replied, “Of course,” he tapped me on the shoulder and nodded to my left, “It looks like someone is waiting for you.”

He gave me a pointed look before I turned to walk away from him and toward the bruised, still disheveled man waiting by the elevator. We’d both been given new clothes to wear, but Spencer’s were definitely a size too big, the sweatshirt sleeves hanging below his hands.

“Thank y-”

“I’m sor-” We both started at the same time.

“You first,” Spencer said.

“I’m sorry,” I sighed, shaking my head. “I never wanted you to have to get involved in this, and-”

“Don’t apologize,” he cut me off, “You can’t control what that man does, all you could do was try to stop him, which may I remind you, you did.”

“We,” I corrected.

“Sure, but mainly you,” he replied, “And actually, I was going to say thank you.”

“For what?” I raised my eyebrows, legitimately shocked, “For getting you kidnapped?”

“No,” he half laughed, “For saving me. You’ve done it way more than once when you could have just protected yourself.”

“Well, then, I guess you’re welcome,” I added, “Hopefully next time I’ll save you from a situation I didn’t create.”

“Hopefully you won’t have to save me at all,” he pointed out.

“Agreed.”

We went down the elevator and out the front doors in silence when Spencer stopped to face me. “Would you want to come over?” When I didn’t immediately respond, he rushed, “I just really want to have you there, breathing, so I know that you're alive and okay.”

I nodded and released a nervous breath of my own, “Good, because I was about to invite myself over for the same reason.”

He extended his hand out to me, and I laced my fingers between his as I led him to my car.

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

When we got into his apartment, I realized I had literally nothing with me. No pyjamas, no fresh clothes for the morning, nothing.

“That’s okay,” Spencer said, waving it off as he made his way to his bedroom, “I’m sure I have some old shirts or hoodies you could wear.”

I followed after him, to find a pile of shirts and sweatshirts strewn all over his closet floor. “Uh, sorry about the mess,” he quickly apologized, before snatching up a red MIT crewneck.

“You’ve been to my apartment, so there’s really no need to apologize for messes,” I said, overexaggerating a grimace. I took the sweatshirt from his outstretched hand, slipping it on over my thin t-shirt. “And thank you.”

“Yeah, of course,” he replied. “Can I get you anything? Like water or coffee or-”

I cut him off with a playful tone, “Coffee? Aren’t we going to try and get some sleep?”

“Yeah, sorry, I guess you’re right,” Spencer said, shaking his head, already halfway back to his kitchen. He stood there silently, watching me as I approached him. As I got closer, I could see in his eyes how shaken he was, and I lightly placed my hands on his shoulders. I looked him straight in the eyes and he nodded slightly before wrapping his arms around me. I did the same and could feel the small twitching of his back muscles. He held onto me tighter, and even though he was trying to be quiet about it, I could tell he was crying.

I kept one hand on his back as I brought the other up to run my fingers through his unruly curls. “Spencer, it’s over,” I whispered, “We’re safe.”

He pulled back to look at me with his glistening hazel eyes, “I know, it’s just…” I stayed there in silence with him while he furiously wiped at his eyes. He started moving away from me and toward the couch as he said, “I’m sorry I should be comforting you about this. DeLeon was after you to begin with, not me, and what he did to you, he-” he choked up.

“This isn’t a competition,” I reminded him, taking his hands as we sat down, “This is not my pain over yours. You went through just as much trauma as I did.”

He let his eyes flutter shut, “It’s just that whenever I close my eyes, I can see-”

Both of my hands snapped up to cup his face, forcing him to open his eyes and look at me, “Don’t. See me. I’m right here in front of you, all of that is over. Look at me, I’m okay,” I insisted.

“But you’re not,” Spencer countered, tracing his fingers lightly over the bruises and bandages covering nearly every inch of my body.

“I will be,” I assured. “And so will you.”

He leaned his forehead against mine, and if I had to guess, he was doing exactly what I was doing; reveling in the feeling that we were both breathing and very much alive.

“How are you doing so well with all of this?” Spencer whispered.

“I’m not,” I admitted, “But there’s something to be said for the amount of relief the FBI brings to someone when they catch and imprison the person who’s been terrorizing them.”

He nodded his head against mine, “I understand that. And what about..?”

I bit my bottom lip, “I’m trying. I’m really trying.”

“Remember you can always talk to me about it,” he offered, “I know what it’s like to be forced on drugs and how hard it can be to stop. You don’t have to hide it from me.”

“Thank you. I’m glad you’re going to be with me tonight. I don’t want to think about what I might be doing if you weren’t,” I replied.

“I guess we’ll both be working to not think about something tonight, then.”

“I guess so.”

I must’ve started to doze off, because when I stirred, I was being carried bridal style from the couch. “Spence..?”

“I’ve got you,” he said, setting me down on his bed. My eyes were still half shut, but I immediately noticed the lack of warmth when he got up to do something.

I whined, “Where are you going? Come back.”

I heard a small, breathy laugh as the bed sunk down behind me. He brought one arm around my middle and pulled me to him, my back on his chest. For a man that didn’t like hugging or physical touch, he was very good at it. I layered my arm over his while my eyes started to droop again. “Goodnight, Aundreya.”

I yawned, “Goodnight, Spencer.”

I couldn’t have asked for a better way to fall asleep than to Spencer’s rhythmic, steady, and very much alive breathing.

Series Taglist

@justanothetfangirl @kris-stuff @blameitonthenight21 @wooya1224 @unded-bride @swiftingday @dezzxmx

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omnivorousshipper · 3 years

Note

I dont know why I've been thinking about this alot lately but what if all the Shaws sibling had on elemental power that they had to keep a secret. Say Owen had fire, Hattie air and Deck water.

Would the secret come out, how would the crew and Luke react?!

Ooo! I always love writing the Shaws with superpowers! Especially with Owen having powers like Quicksilver/Flash

~~~

Owen smirked as he peeked around the corner and saw three guards lazing around the corridor. Almost too easy

Taking a deep breath, Owen let his powers flow off of him and raise the temperature around him. His powers reached incredibly distances and he could see the guards start to fidget with the increasing heat

When they were distinctly distracted, Owen pounced. All three went down with ease

Walking over the fallen guards, Owen smirked even harder

Far too easy. He didn't even need to draw a single flame

---

"You sure he can handle this himself?" Luke asked, glancing over to Deckard

He and the rest of the crew were sitting in their temporary hideout on the outskirts of the city and a few miles from the facility they were supposed to infiltrate. However, Deckard had convinced them to let Owen go in by himself and scope the place out

"He'll be fine." Deckard said flatly. There was no doubt in his mind that Owen could handle himself with ease

Looking back at the camera they had set up outside the facility, Luke wasn't quite so sure. Owen had a tendency for dramatics after all

---

It was only an hour later when they heard shouting come from Owen's radio

"I need backup!"

The crew didn't hesitate to pick up their gear and go running for their cars. It was only a short drive over to the facility, but when the crew drove up, their eyes widened

The whole place was on fire

"How the fuck did he do this?!" Dom shouted over to Deckard, who didn't even look at him. Both Hattie and Deckard took off in a sprint, ready to pull their brother out of the mess he made

Luke was only a step behind them, fearing what the other two Shaws were planning on doing. Especially when he saw both dive into the building, not even caring about the flames

Growling under his breath, Luke followed

The facility was quickly collapsing as Luke stepped through the entrance and was forced to pull his shirt over his nose. The smoke was thick and heavy around his head

He ignored all this in favor of following after Deckard and Hattie

They kept going through the facility, down several corridors and past guards who were shouting at them to get out. The smoke was too thick for the guards to even see that he and the Shaws weren't even supposed to be there

"Owen!"

Luke squinted through tears and smoke to see Owen struggling through the flames, stumbling and clutching at his side

But the strangest thing was that it didn't even seem that Owen even noticed the flames

They simply licked against him and didn't even singe his clothing

Deckard was the first to Owen as the younger Shaw collapsed to the ground. As Luke came to a stop next to the trio, he could see the large, dark spot on Owen's side

"Two bullets." Owen coughed and leaned heavily against Deckard

"Damn bastards!" Deckard hissed. He flung Owen's arm around his shoulders and pulled him to his feet

"Let me." Luke said, stepping forward to take Owen's weight. After a short staring contest with Deckard, the shorter man finally relinquished Owen to Luke

Easily hefting Owen, Luke followed after the other two. But quickly saw that they wouldn't be able to

"The building is too destroyed!" He shouted ahead of him

"Don't worry about that." Hattie shouted back at him as Deckard went ahead of them

Suddenly, Luke heard a sizzling noise

Before his eyes, he watched as Deckard moved his hand and water formed around him to smother the fire

Luke's mouth would be hanging open if he hadn't feared breathing in too much smoke

"How?" He shouted to Hattie

She simply turned to him and smirked

"How do you think Oh set all this fire?"

Luke blinked

Looking down at Owen, Luke shook his head. Predictable

Not dwelling on the idea, Luke dragged Owen out of the facility as he watched Deckard put out as much of the fire to get them out

Finally, fresh air blew into his face and he could finally breathe easier

The crew was standing a short ways away, no sign of the occupants of the facility in sight. The faint shrill siren of an ambulance was getting louder by the second

"Put him down." Deckard was suddenly at his elbow, grabbing at Owen

Luke gently put the smaller man on the ground and stepped away from the brothers. Deckard went to work on keeping pressure on Owen's wounds and keeping him awake

"Looks like he catalyzed the wound." Hattie mumbled next to him. "He relies on that trick too much."

Frowning, Luke turned towards Hattie as she glared at her brothers

"If Deck can control water, and Owen fire, you can...?"

Hattie smiled at him before twirling her fingers

A huge gush of wind slapped him in the face

Sighing, Luke should have guessed

~~~

I hope you enjoyed friend!

#shobbs #deckard shaw #luke hobbs #hobbs and shaw #owen shaw #hattie shaw #powers au #asks #omni answers #omni writes

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sorcererinthestars · 4 years

Note

Got more for ya, Myan FAHC stealing each others jackets but also snuggling in them while the others away.

It’s been 10,000 years since I’ve got this ask but I sort of... save them up until I’m feeling writing and then I come back to it. thank you for this.

Every time the thunder crashed behind their giant plate window, Michael’s stomach dropped a bit more. The wind howled an eerie chorus around their penthouse, whipping past faster and faster, the rain driving down like stones. No one wanted to be out in it, but someone was. Ryan.

It was supposed to be a half an hour recon mission. Just a simple drive down to the pier to scout out where they were going to be docking their boat for the next heist. Quick and easy, he wouldn’t even really have to get out of the car. They got big storms, of course they did, but Ryan had more than enough time to get back in time.

But he wasn’t back. He may have been just sheltering in his car, waiting out the worst of it. There was no way he could drive in this - visibility would be near zero and he was sure some roads by the pier were probably flooded. He’d just have to hunker down, wait out the storm, come home when it was easier to see.

The logic was there but it didn’t do much to make the fear uncurl in Michael’s stomach.

They’d only been ‘together’ a few weeks but Michael was damned if that was going to be ruined because the fucking idiot got himself killed. He glances over as his phone lights up, but its just a twitter notification. Not a fucking text from the one man he needed to hear from more than anything.

The lights flicker and go out for a second before flashing back on. Good thing their building had backup generators. He was sure the whole city was going to go out from this.

Shoving his hands in the pocket of the jacket he was wearing, he pulled the leather closer to him and buries his nose in the material. It was warm and soft, worked smooth from the thousands of times Ryan had pulled it across his shoulders. Yeah, he had nicked Ryan’s jacket. Sue him. The man hadn’t worn it because the leather shouldn’t get soaked. Thankfully, it meant Michael could cozy up in it until Ryan returns.

He hoped the other wouldn’t mind, but would happily engage in a shouting match about stolen jackets if it just meant the other was here to shout at him.

About twenty minutes later, Geoff comes over to squeeze his shoulder. “He’s going to be okay. He’s not an idiot, he wouldn’t drive in this.”

Michael scoffs, but appreciates Geoff being there anyways. “Where are the others?” he asks quietly, trying not to show how much his voice is shaking. He’s Mogar, for fucks’ sake, he shouldn’t be so worried.

“It’s late. Gavin and Jeremy are asleep. Jacks’ reading.”

“None of them are as worried as I am?” Michael felt his rage flare but swallows it back down. Relax. They care about him too.

“Of course they are. But they know Ryan. He’s just sheltering from the storm somewhere, he’ll be back soon.”

Michael sighs and nods. Geoff squeezes his shoulder one more time and leaves him to his worrying - he knew not much would pull Michael away from his spot.

It’s an hour and forty five minutes later when the key turns in the lock of their front door. Michael had fallen fitfully asleep, wrapped in the jacket, and didn’t hear Ryan come plomping in. He throws his secondary jacket, soaked through, on the rack and yanks off his shoes. The house is quiet, despite the lights being on, and he shivers but figures everyones’ asleep.

He needs a shower, soaked to the bone. He’s freezing, the rain was cold, but thankfully he was able to shelter in his car while the worst passed by. He found a parking garage and that kept him out of the brunt of it. When the eye of the storm passed over, he was able to drive home.

He was about to pass the couch when he notices the small form - more specifically, he notices the distinctive colors of his favorite jacket. Michael. Stubbornly waiting up for him, except he had fallen asleep. His hand was loosely curled around the phone and Ryan could read ten texts addressed to him, all in increasing levels of worried.

Sheepishly, he pulls his own phone from his pocket. It was soaked like the rest of him and sputtered for a moment before going dark. Dead. Maybe restorable in the future, but he certainly hadn’t got any messages after being caught outside when the skies opened up. “Michael,” he says gently, bending down to softly shake him. The man comes awake fully and all at once, springing over to stare at him wildly. “Ryan!”

Ryan’s about to make some quip when Michael launches himself at him, ignoring how wet he was, to cling to him like some monkey. “I - fuck, man, don’t do that. I was so fucking worried, I -”

Ryan just holds him close, burying his cold face in the warm curls. He squirms a bit in guilt. “Baby, I’m sorry, I didn’t....” I didn’t think. He was so used to working alone, to having a team and a family but not a lover, that he didn’t...

“Just... fucking text me back next time,” Michael grumbles, detaching himself. Ryan yanks out the dead phone and Michael grimaces. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” he says quietly. “But still, I got home as soon as I could.” He shivers, and Michael’s rage eases. “Come on, you. Let’s get you dry.” He stands and Ryan follows. But before they could go, Ryan bends down a bit and steals a warm, lingering kiss. “Thank you for waiting for me,” he breathes.

Michael just smiles a bit. “I always will. Idiot.” Ryan just grins and, holding hands, they go to find the shower.

#myan #just soft #all i have today is soft #but hopefully cute!#fahc

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reidingandwriting · 4 years

Text

Love, Mom

Word Count: ~1700 words

Ship: Natasha Romanoff x Reader (Mother!Natasha) Peter Parker x Reader (if you pay attention) Tony Stark x Reader (Dad!Tony) brief IronFam, Clint x Reader (parental/platonic)

Warnings: Language, mention of guns and gunshots, sort of Endgame compliant, quite a bit of angst in this one!

You may not have been a Romanoff by blood, but you damn sure were one by love. You were sixteen when Natasha took a chance on you and rescued you from the Hydra base you had been living in since you were a toddler. When you turned three, your birth parents found out you had the power to control fire. Your parents were terrified of you and the powers you had, and they dropped you off at a children’s home for “extraordinary youth”. This turned out to be a Hydra child trafficking ring, and for the next thirteen years, you went under intense training to become Hydra’s youngest but most valuable asset. It’s been two years since the day you met Natasha and the other Avengers, but you remembered it like it was yesterday.

~~~

You rounded the hallway, holding your gun as your eyes scanned the hall. You walked silently, stepping over the fallen bodies and flinched as you heard another faint gunshot. You’ve heard gunshots regularly since your arrival, but they never got easier to hear. You turned left down another hallway and stumbled when you ran into a woman with red hair. Neither of you moved. Your training told you to kill her and move on, but for some reason, you couldn’t. She didn’t feel like a threat, she felt safe. Your gun shook in your hands and you kept eye contact as you slowly bent down, setting the gun on the floor. ‘I’m safe!’ You wanted to yell, but you hoped your action spoke louder than words ever could.

“What’s your name, kid?” She took the opportunity to speak and your voice wavered as you answered.

“Y/N.” You watched as she nodded.

“How long have you been here, Y/N?”

“Thirteen years.”

She opened her mouth to speak and then paused, as if she heard something. She moved her hand to her ear and spoke.

“I’m on the top floor. I found...” She glanced at you and she saw a younger version of herself in you. You didn’t show it, but you were scared. You couldn’t afford to be scared, fear made you a target. You didn’t want to be here, to be their puppet. You wouldn’t have put your gun down if you did.

“Natasha?” The voice in her earpiece snapped her out of her trance. “Do you need backup?”

“No backup. I found a hostage. Unarmed.” She gave you a pointed look and you nodded. “She’s young.”

“Bring her with you.” Tony’s voice cut in. “At the very least, we’ll have Dr. Cho check her out.”

The redhead looked at you and you trembled slightly, eyes on the floor.

“Y/N? I need you to trust me, okay?” You nodded slightly and a ghost of a smile played on Natasha’s lips. “I’m going to get you out of here, you’ll be safe. I just need your help getting out of here. Do you think we can do that?” You nodded again, wordlessly leading the way out of the warehouse.

~~~

You had boarded the jet that day and been flown to your new home at the Avengers Compound. You didn’t talk much in the beginning, only one or two word responses reserved for Natasha. You then met with the best counselor Tony Stark could find, and after a few weeks, you started to break out of your shell. Within three months, you had completely opened up, and you didn’t think it was possible to be this happy. You fit in perfectly with the Avengers and you considered them to be your family- and they definitely felt the same. You were all broken individuals trying to figure out how to be whole again, and you happened to form a family at the same time.

The last two years you spent with the Avengers had been the best years of your life. You learned how to drive, celebrated your seventeenth and eighteenth birthday, and had your first crush on a boy who swung from webs and loved Star Wars and stupid (funny) science puns. Tony discovered you loved his robots, especially DUM-E, and helped you built a miniature one. You learned that you loved running, and when Steve found out, he invited you to go on morning runs with him. Sam discovered you were a genius when it came to pranks, and the pair of you could often be found scheming. Peter introduced you to his friends, and you quickly joined the group. It took time, but you began to feel less like a living weapon, and more like a human. Life was going great. And then the battle with Thanos happened.

———

“Natasha? I feel funny.” Natasha fell to her knees in front of you, and moved your head to rest in her lap.

“You’re okay, Y/N. I’ve got you, you’re safe with me.” Natasha whispered. Your hand started to dust away and you whimpered.

“I-I’m scared, Nat. I don’t, I can’t leave you.” Tears stung your eyes as you desperately tried not to cry.

“Shhh, shhh.” Natasha couldn’t hide the shake in her voice. “I love you, kid.”

“I-I love you, Nat.” And you were gone, nothing but ash.

———

Five years had passed, and Natasha still thought of you every day. She had finally accepted you wouldn’t be able to come back, until Scott Lang showed up and discussed a plan he called a time heist. Natasha and Steve only knew one person who could make this work- Tony. After an unsuccessful meeting and mostly unsuccessful attempts at time travel with Scott, Tony was on board. Once the team had figured out time travel, then came the mission that changed everything- collecting the Infinity Stones. It was supposed to work.

“See you in a minute.” Natasha smirked as her and Clint traveled to Vormir to retrieve the soul stone. The team all collected their stones and returned. When Natasha didn’t return with Clint, they all dreaded how they were going to tell you. In the end, the Avengers had won and Thanos was defeated.

You stood up after speaking to Tony, who was still recovering from wielding all six Infinity Stones to snap away Thanos’s army. His arm was ruined and the side of his face was pretty burned, but he was alive, and that’s what mattered. Your eyes scanned the battlefield, looking for Natasha. Your eyes met Clint’s and you walked over to him.

“Clint? Where’s Nat?” An emotion you didn’t recognize flashed through his eyes.

“Y/N...” He trailed off. You looked at him expectantly. “She’s dead.” You burst into laughter.

“That’s funny, Clint. Really. Okay, Nat, you can come out now.” You called and when she never came, your heart ached. “She’s... she’s really gone.” Clint took a step towards you and you backed away. “She was supposed to be here! She didn’t get dusted, she was supposed to be here for me when I came back.” You broke into sobs, grieving the loss of Natasha, the woman you considered to be your mother.

———

You stood with Peter during Nat’s funeral, your hand holding his. All of you were suffering a great loss, and you were trying to hold it together for everyone around you. You gave his hand a gentle squeeze as the funeral ended and you let him go, excusing yourself. Your feet carried you to the pier and you sat on the edge, removing your shoes, and let your feet dangle in the water. You didn’t know how long you had been sitting there, but when you saw the sun begin to set, you knew it had been a few hours. You started to stand up, knowing you should go inside, as you heard footsteps behind you. You looked over as Tony sat beside you, closing your eyes as you faced the lake again.

“I know she’d want me to be happy. She sacrificed herself so that everyone could have their families back. So that the world could return to how it should be. But I’m not.” You took a shaky breath, and Tony rested a metal hand on your shoulder. Tony had lost all function of his right arm, and T’Challa brought him a prosthetic from Wakanda, created by Shuri. It was an adjustment, but Tony was grateful to have only lost his arm. He soon began to call himself the Iron Soldier, pulling a typical Tony Stark move and using humor to cope.

“It’s okay to not be happy. You can be mad, or sad, or any other emotion, Y/N.” Tony looked at the sunset as he spoke. You wiped at a stray tear on your cheek.

“I’m so grateful I have all of you. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” You whispered. Tony’s arm wrapped around your shoulders, comfortingly rubbing your shoulder. “I hope she knows how much I love her. She took a chance on me when no one else did. She gave me a reason to live, and now I’ve lost her.”

“Trust me, kid. She knows.” You rested your head on Tony’s shoulder, watching as the sun set. You both looked back as you heard the sound of footsteps, Morgan walking over to you two.

“Daddy gives me juice pops when I’m sad, so I brought you a juice pop, Y/N.” You patted your lap for Morgan, your arm wrapping around her protectively as she sat in your lap.

“How can I be sad when I have a juice pop?” You offered a smile to Morgan, taking one of the three juice pops she was holding. If someone would’ve told you three years ago, you’d be sitting with Tony Stark and his daughter eating juice pops at their lake house, you’d think they were crazy. Now? You couldn’t be happier to have your family, as weird as it may be.

———

You walked into your bedroom in the compound a few days later. Clint had offered to come with you, as did the rest of the team, but you wanted to do it alone. The room hadn’t changed at all in the last five years. You could tell the room had been cleaned often, as there wasn’t any dust on your things.

You walked around the room, stopping when you saw an envelope on your dresser. You immediately recognized Natasha’s handwriting and carefully opened the envelope. You pulled out the piece of paper, unfolding it as you read the letter.

“Y/N...

I hope when you’re reading this letter, I’m right by your side. I’ve got a feeling I won’t be, which is why I wrote this for you. Seven years ago, I took a chance on you, much like Clint took a chance on me. The moment I saw you, I felt this pull inside of me. It told me to take care of you, to keep you safe, and to give you the life you never had a chance to live. During the two years we shared before I lost you, I began to consider you my daughter. I felt maternal when it came to you, a feeling that died inside of me many years ago.

These last five years without you have been the longest years of my life. I’m sorry for all the times I didn’t appreciate your stupid jokes, your weird sense of humor, and how optimistic you are. You really don’t know how much you love something until it’s gone, huh? But we’ve got a plan. I don’t like to be too hopeful, but I really think it’ll work out. I don’t know if that’s you rubbing off on me, or if that’s the desperation speaking. Losing you has been one of the worst things, Y/N. I hope whenever this battle is done, I can give you the biggest hug and catch up on all those missed years.

In case it doesn’t work out to plan, I need you to remember something for me. I’ve always been proud of you, and I know I’ll continue to be proud wherever I am now. You can accomplish whatever you put your mind to, don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. I know you’ll be sad, maybe mad, that this is the way things turned out. I hope one day I can see you again to make up for everything. I love you so much, Y/N Romanoff.

P.S. I know it’s not official, but you’ve always been like a daughter to me. Maybe we can make it official?

Love, Natasha Romanoff. Or Mom. Whatever you like.

Taglist: @daughter-of-stark @agent-barnes40 @spideygirl2003 @ditttiii ❤️ Taglist is open! Let me know if you’d like to join :) This was so much fun to write, I think I might write more mom Natasha soon :’)

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ripleyfm · 4 years

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･ﾟ☀ good morning to everyone except those who hate on legend of korra ! skskskks i’m teddy , i’m a lil ole baby swinging back into the rpc heart emojis a - blazing ! this is my lil sunflower chaos seeker known as ripley , a newer muse for me but i’m really excited to flesh her out here with some extra spooky elements . i have a god awful sense of humor and too much enthusiasm for angst so tbh ? come get y’all PLOTTIN JUICE to distract me from thirsting over avatar kyoshi ! disc / ord is @𝐤𝐲𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐫 !#6439 since i’ll be mobile for the afternoon !

* [ bruna marquezine + cis female + she / her ] —— have you met tallulah ripley ? they are a twenty-two year old senior currently studying biology & music theory. they live on decker house, and word around campus is that this leo is vibrant + gregarious, as well as hedonistic + philophobic. i wonder if they’ll make it out alive. trailing sand in on the hardwood with bare feet , running late to meetings ( and asking forgiveness with a mere flash of a grin ) , tucking a greta van fleet album among the family collection of concierto classics .

EDIT : wanted and current connections can be found here !

youngest of four , born into an old money surname , her mother , an international student from sao paolo , brazil , and american father meet as competing pianists at holloway , falling in love , marrying , and beginning the next generation of the ripley virtuosos soon after graduation . her childhood is privileged and uneventful , strict and stifling as early as she can remember , tallulah causing trouble enough as if to make up for her perfectly behaved siblings .

her father becomes one of the most prolific modern composers of his time , and splits his efforts between composition and teaching music theory at julliard as his wife continues performances as a famed pianist . though her siblings branch out into other instruments , tallulah is the only one stubborn enough to weather the callouses on her fingers , figuring if she’s going to be forced to play an instrument of any type , it’ll at least be something she likes . thus , the only stringed instrument in the ripley household becomes hers as she takes on the cello by storm .

practicing cello is perhaps the only thing lu truly commits herself to — charming and sociable as she may be , her selectiveness with her efforts makes her sluggish with schoolwork as if to give her family a hard time . her siblings , all honor scholars and first chairs at their respective instruments , pick on her for her unmotivated wild child ways at the encouragement of her mother . the only person who takes the time to sit with tallulah and keep her on track is her ever - tired ( but endlessly generous ) father .

her world is turned upside down her freshman year when her father’s occasional stumble turns into a more regular struggle to keep his balance , an ultimate diagnosis of a degenerative disease rattling their family as they know it . tallulah , wild and only tamed by the kindness of one man , starts acting out in an effort to ignore the world around her . the rift between herself and her family only multiplies when she discovers her mother having an affair as her father’s health continues to decline .

he passes away on a vacation he and tallulah take to the ripley summer beach house , something they had done to have some quiet time together away from the judgement of her siblings . having to be the one to break the news to the family , she feels herself shut down and lose whatever desire she had left to live the perfect life her mother and siblings tried to force on her .

she starts going almost exclusively by her surname , making it into holloway more as a favor to her family’s generous donations to the music program than on grades . she’s barely hanging on by her involvement in the university’s symphonic orchestra , where she’s a first chair cellist that shows up late to every damn rehearsal and somehow can cold sightread well enough to piss everyone off ksksksk .

given this , she’s only minoring in music theory to stay in the orchestra , and partially to feel close to her dad . though her dream is to write music scores for films , she’s majoring in biology to have a respectable backup plan . if she can’t do music forever , she’ll disappear onto a beach somewhere in costa rica and be a marine biologist and never be heard from again lmao

PERSONALITY : ripley is happiest shotgunning a white claw before piling into the squad car and calling aux immediately ! loves her friends and sees her circle as found family that she would do anything for .

she’s laid back and observant , one of the quieter in the group as she tries to suss you out but is the first to approach a newbie and act as if you’ve been friends for ages . she makes an active effort to not judge others on the basis of first impressions and tends to be rather open minded when meeting others , which makes her a sort of universal friend - to - all ; given this , when wronged , she’s a stubborn little shit and though she wont let them live rent free in that headspace , she’ll go full send to making sure they’re aware they don’t exist to her !

she hates petty drama and tends to skirt most responsibility by sweet - talking her way out of things , giving the impression that she can be lazy or unmotivated . this is true to some extent , such as with her grades or her timeliness , but those who strike the right balance will see a side of ripley that is laser focused , whether its drunken ramblings about the brilliance of the chord progressions on fleetwood mac’s rumors or an astute observation about the emotion behind a certain cello movement . though she prefers to skip the hard thinking and just enjoy the moment , ripley’s admittedly a clever girl , simply needing the right push to unlock her truest potential .

she’s incredibly relaxed ( sometimes a bit too much for the preference of some ) and tends to try and avoid over - complicating issues in order to not have to face them . especially considering the infidelity of her mother , ripley is a staunch believer that relationships are a waste of time and is the annoying bitch who argues that being in love is a scam made up by the simps to feel valid !

acts as if she isn’t FULL of feelings and emotions 24/7 n listens to emo 70’s power ballads when the person she likes doesnt confess their love for her under the moonlight like they were supposed to in her fantasy ……. smh . she’s too busy trying to be ~cool and effortless~ that she sometimes sabotages the things that would bring her the most happiness , then blaming herself in a vicious cycle that just leaves her trying to distract herself w crazy antics to avoid focusing on her feelings .

RANDOM BLURBS : hates men n regrets all attraction to them . thinks all women r too good for her . convinced she will be a useless bisexual forced 2 be forever alone

plays guitar as a mental break from cello and loves it . i’m still deciding a vc for her

knows the beaches in maine are cold af but wants to go every weekend anyways

drives the most impractical soft shell jeep which sucks in the east coast wind and snow and yet it is somehow exactly an embodiment of Her Brand tm

like 5′9 tall and hates wearing real people shoes she said berks or nOTHIN

wishes she could go vegan but is so bad at keeping track of her meals she’d forget instantly and down a 20 pack of chicken nugget

too mellow & apathetic to be a chaotic neutral but too adventurous to be a true neutral so she lives somewhere in that lawless grey space skskskks

acts REAL california for someone who grew up exclusively on the east coast .... hm ..... 🤔

grew up disconnected from brazilian culture due to her mom's whitewashing and she resents it greatly . can understand scattered portuguese but took spanish in high school so that's as close to the language as she'll get . wants to take lessons online tho !

inspos r lila from umbrella academy , wynonna earp , beverly marsh from it , michelle manlon from derry girls , korra from lok , adora from she ra and the pop , and that ugly yellow overtone used in outer banks 💖 skskskks

#holloway.intro

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royallyprincesslilly · 5 years

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KinkToberFest Fic Collection #2🔥🔥/🔥🔥🔥

Title: Electrifying {🔥🔥 To 🔥🔥🔥}

Thor x Reader {One-Shot}

Warning: SMUT, NSFW,Electro-Stimulation (E-Stim) & Exhibitionism

Word Count: 3.1K

Note: Next up, we have the our favorite electric God. This is also first so, fingers crossed this captures him. FOLLOW THE RATING UP TOP. I kinda really like this concept this may pop up again sometime in the future.

***Loosely Edited/Proofread***

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had been six months since you’d seen him. Six long months. Six months of all work and no play. Six months of overworking yourself so you had no free time to miss him. He said he had to go back to Asgard on a mission. That mission that was supposed to be a week at most but ended up stretching longer than that. What was worse was that it was six months of no contact. That is what drove you crazy; you didn’t know if he was hurt, in trouble, trapped, locked up, nothing. There was no news. Why would there be? He was an Asgardian; it’s not like they had intergalactic and dimensional news that played highlights.

“Hello, earth to Y/N!”

You shook your head and looked to your friends who were staring at you. The boom of the music at the club you were at brought you back to where you were.

“What?”

“We’ve been calling your name for like a full minute,” Katy rang back.

“Yeah, I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you.”

“No, shit. Where were you?” You looked around at your three friends as they studied you waiting for an answer. Finishing your drink, you shrugged.

“Nowhere, just thinking about something from work,” you lied.

Melody groaned loudly as she rolled her eyes in an exaggerated fashion. She didn’t believe you and probably saw right through you. Out of her, Katy and Destinee, you and her were the closest. You told her damn near everything, including your relationship with him. Melody changed the subject and brought everyone’s attention to a group of guys across the club at the bar who were watching. After deciding on a plan of action everyone went into motion executing it. Katy and Destinee stood and began dancing with each other to the sultry music playing throughout the club. You and Melody sat closely and whispered as she looked over to them giving them a suggestive look that said, “come hither.”

Like clockwork, the four guys stood and sauntered over. Part of you felt like you were being unfaithful to him. Like you were disrespecting his memory, disrespecting your relationship. You almost laughed out loud. You didn’t even know if you had a relationship. You had two months of bliss, two months of laughter, two months of normalcy away from everything and every one, two months of toe-curling, back-arching love. Or you’d thought it was love. The longer he was away without even a carrier pigeon to you had you second guessing whatever it was you thought you’d felt. Maybe you didn’t mean anything to him.

“Hi, I’m Parker.” You looked into the hazel eyes of one of the guys who’d just came over and smiled back at him.

“Hi, Y/N.” Parker smiled and shook your hand before placing a semi-wet kiss to the back of your hand. Cheesy, you thought, but he was cute enough to get away with it.

For the next thirty minutes or so, you and Parker sat and whispered together. He spit his best game and said all the right things and even was bold enough to place a hand on your knee and at the back of your neck, and even brushing your hair away from your face. He was doing all the right things. You didn’t get a bad vibe at all, but one thing was off. He wasn’t him—Thor.

Melody could see your lackluster disposition with Parker, and she knew you were not into him. After exchanging an all-knowing glance with you, she nodded.

You spent another hour at the club, dancing, drinking, and chopping it up with your friends and the guys trying their best to be the ones they went home with tonight. By the time you all said your goodbyes at the front of the club it was nearing two in the morning, and the air smelled sweet and pungent; you could feel a storm brewing. You could always smell when it was going to rain, but this oncoming storm felt different, smelled different.

You said bye to your friends and got into a cab more than ready to climb into bed. The drive was a relatively quick one because, at two in the morning, the traffic in the city was almost nonexistence. You saw the sky slightly light up behind the dark rolling clouds with the distant flashes of lighting. You couldn’t help but think of him and wish he were there.

Suddenly a loud clap a thunder boomed. It was loud enough to set off every car alarm around you, but the alarms couldn’t compete with the sound of the thunder or the bright burst of lighting that decorated the sky. The taxi driver swerved to a halt in an effort to avoid cars that were also doing the same thing. Once it was safe, you stepped out the car, and in the distance, you could see a concentrated beam of lighting stream down to the ground. Your eyes widened, and your heart stopped.

“Thor,” you whispered.

You quickly handed the driver a twenty and rand down the street. You were only five blocks from home and knew you could make it there quicker on foot than waiting in the backup the thunder and lightning show created. After two blocks, you regretted running in your heels, your feet hurt, and you were beginning to sweat.

As you rounded the corner onto your street, you ran up to the door of your duplex and quickly made it inside. You looked around and checked each room. You didn’t know what you expected to find or who you expected to find. By the time you made it upstairs to check your office and then bedroom you breathed out and leaned against the wall. He wasn’t here. Disappointment filled you, and you fought off the tears threatening to spill over.

After a few minutes, you pulled yourself together and got into the shower. You needed some downtime in the worst way; you could feel the tension in your muscles and shoulders. You began to feel foolish for hoping, foolish for thinking it was him. Once you wrapped yourself in your silk robe you walked back downstairs and nearly fell flat on your ass when you saw him sitting in one of the recliner leather chairs. He was decked out in his God of Thunder garb.

“Y/N.” the sound of his voice made your knees weak, and you gripped the stair railing and pressed your free hand to your abdomen.

“Hello.”

You bit your bottom lip, unable to speak. When he stood, you followed his movements as he walked around the living room to come to stand before you. He was as tall as every and as brawny as the day you last saw him. He was gorgeous. You licked your lips as his hand reached out and touched your cheek. Just like that you were weak, and you threw yourself onto him pressing your face onto his chest. Thor wrapped his massive arms around your body and just held you. Without even knowing it your tears fell freely; they weren’t sad tears or even angry ones. They were grateful ones, tears that spoke of your relief.

“I am here, my love.” You looked up into his stormy blue eyes and dropped your forehead to his chest. He smelled so good. Thor touched your cheek again, and you saw the soot on his hand. You looked back to his face and saw the same soot residue.

“It was a rough ride.”

“Come, let’s get you in the shower.” You slowly walked back up the steps with Thor’s hand in your leading him up to the bedroom that he hadn’t stepped foot into for six months.

You walked him across the wooden floors up the steps to the ensuite bathroom. Once inside, you turned to him and began undressing him out of the heavy metal armor. Thor finished taking it off and dropped it to the stone tiles. You helped him peel off the shirt he wore then turned to the vanity to take his things out of the drawer. As you did you felt his hands wrap around your abdomen in an intimate hug. The heat from his body seeped into the thin layer of your robe, and you took a deep breath in and sighed out. He felt good, so damn good. You looked into the mirror, and he was looking right at you. Thor tipped your chin to the side angling your lips so he could reach them then claimed them in a sweet, sensual kiss. The kiss was not a heated one or one of urgency; it was a melancholy one, one that made you feel every ounce of the sadness that was between you. He stepped closer, and you could feel every bit of him pressed against you. Your belly rumbled with hunger, but it wasn’t for food.

Pulling your lips away, you took a breath and looked down at the vanity sink. “Shower.”

He nodded again and stepped away from you before he peeled off his pants and kicked them to the side along with his boots. He was soon as nude as the day he was born. You walked to the shower, turned on the water. Thor walked to you and stepped under the dual rainfall showerheads. The water streamed down his body, and you followed the river that dipped and rounded over every muscle and indentation his perfect body had. Your mouth watered and it took everything in you to turn.

“Stay, please.” His voice was pleading and so damn vulnerable and you didn’t think you had the heart or the strength to deny him. After gulping down the word “yes” you looked back to him over your shoulder.

“Come find me when you’re done.”

You then walked out of the bathroom and peeped back at him through the checker paned window that separated your bedroom from the bathroom. You needed a drink.

~~~~~~

Almost half an hour later, you were still sitting on your rooftop staring at the sky sipping your sixth glass of wine. You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn’t hear Thor approach until he slid behind you and nestled his chin in the crook of your neck. “Mmmm.”

You smiled and sighed out. “I missed you so much Y/N.”

“Six months, Thor.”

“I know I am sorry. I desperately tried to get back to you, but one mission turned out to be more complicated than I could have imagined. I have been all over the realms. I could not come back until the threat had been eradicated. I am sorry.”

You knew he was telling the truth, and you also knew how much you missed him. Turning to face him you wrapped your arms around him. “I missed you too, so damn much.” He smiled and crushed his lips to yours and took control of a brain searing kiss. You moaned and felt Thor lift you onto his lap. You could feel his growing need underneath the towel he wore.

Thor’s hands ravaged your body, moving from your face to your shoulders, then your back before they gripped your backside. You moaned again and rocked on his lap. Thor’s groan was the indication your movements were having an impact. You grabbed the back of his head and pressed your lips more forcefully onto his, then dropped your hands to his shoulders and used them as a brace.

Thor pulled your thighs and dropped you back onto the cushions, then hovered over you. his mouth connected with your neck and kissed your flesh before he sucked your skin. Slowly he trailed kisses down the center of your body before he captured your pert nipples between his teeth. You heard him groan, and with his groan the sky rumbled. Thor suckled at your breasts one at a time, creating such a delicious tension in your belly and between your thighs. You couldn’t wait any longer; it had already been too long.

His mouth dipped over your belly and to your pelvis before he placed a suctioned kiss to your already needy bud. You gasped, arched your back, and angled your head backward. “Shit!” your thighs instinctively clenched around his head before he firmly pressed them back to the cushion. He moaned and continued exploring your folds. Thor didn’t wait or take his time with bringing you the pleasure you’d been denied for months. Thor moaned and shook his head between your thighs and slurped at your flesh. “Fuck!”

“Language, my love.”

You bit your bottom lip and glared down at him. His smile was mischievous, and it made you want him more. Thor held his hand up, and you saw electricity crackling between his fingers. Your eyes widened as you watched him toy with the current. “You trust me, right?” You nodded your head. Thor pointed up, and a bright lightning bolt shot up to the sky before it rippled with several more lighting strikes. The lightning accompanied more loud roars of thunder and soon drizzles began.

You knew he was powerful, but this was the first time you’d seen him control more than just lighting and the thunder. Using your foot, you pushed his towel off his waist. His length bobbed in the air as if it were saluting you. “God you’re gorgeous,” you complimented.

“Me? You’re the gorgeous one, my love. Your beautiful face has haunted me every waking moment. Your sweet scent has left me captivated and craving you for months. You are my best dream come to life.” you smiled. Thor pointed his finger to your breast, and a lightning bolt zapped your skin. You gasped, but it didn’t hurt. Thor searched your face for any indication that you were uncomfortable, and when he saw none, he pointed to your breast, and again, a lighting bolt kissed your skin, but this time the surge felt hotter and left a slight sting.

“Mmm.”

Thor repeated the action two more times; each surge was more powerful than the last. Each strike had a different effect. By the fourth time you were soaking wet and aching to feel his strength between your thighs. With the last strike his mouth was there to sooth the powerful sting that remained. The rain came down a little harder, and the water drops decorated your skin. As they fell, Thor’s tongue was there to lap up each drop.

Suddenly you felt the hot and cold trike of lighting on your pearl. “Fuck!” Your shout echoed off your roof as your body convulsed from the sheer force of your unexpected orgasm.

“You are so beautiful when you come undone, love.” Again, Thor struck between your legs with lighting. Your body seized as you gritted your teeth. He kept the surge on your skin as his lips wrapped around your nipple once more.

Thor thrust his hips forward and speared his need right into your core. You screeched and the intensity of the surge increased, and again your orgasm took you by surprise. You clenched around him, but Thor did not stop his thrusts.

“By the galaxy, you feel incredible. I have missed your cavernous depths, missed your delicious nectar that which sustains me.” His hips snapped forward forcing your body to shake with the impact of his bruising thrust. Each time he connected with the bundle of nerves within you with the force of thunder itself he manipulated the lighting to strike your clit rhythmically. Each strike intensified to a level that almost caused pain before it lowered to a bearable surge only to intensify again.

After almost fifteen minutes, you couldn’t predict what was to come, and each time the anticipation of the next shock made you swell with such anticipation, you could barely breathe. Thor pounded into your heat with the spread and strength of the God he was. Every time his hips collided with yours the sky ripped apart with loud thunder and forceful rain. The rain beat down onto your bodies and made them slick. Without warning you felt your bodies lift off the cushions and hover into the air.

Shock rang through you as you looked around, seeing that you were getting higher and higher into the air. When you looked back to Thor, his eyes were lighting white.

“Do you trust me?” Trying to catch your breath and take in everything that was happening, you nodded.

“Yes.”

“Do you love me as I love you?” You smiled and nodded again before you kissed him most fervently. You pressed your forehead to his and nodded again.

“Yes, I love you, Thor.”

“I love you Y/N, forever and always.” With that, he shot into the air, and the backdrop was the lighting and thunder in the sky as he lifted his hips and plowed into you. Every time he connected, you still felt the electric charge his you, but this time it struck several places at once. His eyes were that of lighting, and you should have been afraid, but you weren’t. You wanted him with everything in you.

You rocked your body with his hoping to show him just how badly you craved him. Thor’s moans became louder and louder, but they never overpowered the sound of the thunder because it too grew louder and louder. His skin’s heat intensified, and soon, it began to glow just as with the lighting in the sky. Thor snapped his hips into you once, twice and a third time until he dropped his head back and shout into the sky, setting it off with a deafening crescendo of thunder decorated with thousands of lightning bolts. You could feel yourself clenching around him as he ripped your orgasm from you. Your screams competed with his and the thunder, but nothing beat the god of thunder who commanded it.

The two of you hovered in the sky bodies shaking from the force of the pleasure that was still surging through you. Slowly Thor’s eyes returned to his incredible blue ones. “My love,” he began.

“My love.” He kissed you, and before you knew it, you were again on the cushion. The thunder in the shy turned into rumbles, and the light show died down. All that remained was the lite drizzle. You scoffed and laughed as you held his wet body to him.

“That was new.” You could feel Thor’s smile on your temple.

“Was it? Did you enjoy it?” You pulled back and gazed at him.

“It was electrifyingly delightful.” You smiled wide, and he returned the smile.

“I say we definitely try that again, maybe not tonight though. Shield and every other government entity will lose their mind if you do that again.”

“Silly humans. I am the God of Thunder; I do as I please.” His lips crashed to yours, and with the fire of the kiss, you knew his intentions. It was going to be a stormy night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

***If you want to be tagged please SEND AN ASK SO IT WILL BE EASIER FOR ME TO KEEP TRACK OF. Thank you for reading!!!

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#KinkToberFest #kinktoberfest series #marvel kinktoberfest #kinktoberfest 2019 #erik killmonger #thor #Steve Rogers #bucky #m'baku #tchalla #heimdall #sam wilson #quentin beck #Marvel Comics #marvel fanfiction #marvel smut #electrifying one shot

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thievinghippo · 4 years

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Fic Update: Abstract (9/12)

Fandom: Mass Effect

Pairing: Garrus/Shepard

Rating: Teen

Summary: A study on Garrus and Shepard’s relationship during ME2, from introduction to conclusion, featuring arguments for and against.

Notes: Thank you for reading! <3

(Read at Ao3!)

Negation - Shepard

It’s lonely, fighting only with a combat drone for company.

Shepard looks over her right shoulder, to the spot where Garrus should be, holding his sniper rifle and making some smart-ass comment. Instead, there’s nothing. Only the reminder that she left the Normandy alone, without any backup. She glances down at the N7 stripe on her armor, and wonders again exactly what Hackett was thinking. Never once in all of her N7 training and missions did she ever work solo. She’s an engineer. She’s the one other N7s are supposed to keep safe so she can hack something or detonate something.

Hackett knows her record, probably better than she does at this point.

So why the hell is she on Aratoht by herself?

Two batarian guards stand in front of her, obviously on high alert. While she might not be an Infiltrator, Shepard did train as one in the beginning, until her marksmanship score made the brass reconsider her role. Sneaking in and out of places wasn’t her issue. Hitting her targets was. Engineering was her passion anyway, so when the Alliance switched her designation, she made absolutely no complaints.

Now, however, she can think of a few.

Why didn’t she bring a tactical cloak? Cerberus had to have something lying around or maybe Kasumi would have let her borrow hers. Instead she’s trying to be as quiet as she can, wishing Garrus was with her, even when she told him earlier he couldn’t come.

He wanted to, of course. The moment she told him about the mission, he offered to join her. Her saying no led to their first actual fight. Shepard’s not about the risk the relationship between the turians and batarians by having a turian with her if things went sideways. But did he understand that? Of course not.

She tried to plead her case, even promising him that she’ll be back in less than eighteen hours and they’ll be able to share a bed again tonight. Which is something that’s close to becoming a habit. Which is something she likes far more than she’s willing to admit right now.

Technically, they’re still fighting, she thinks. Shepard’s never been good with personal conflict and when Garrus refused to see things her way, she just left her quarters. Not very mature, she knows, but the mission had to start and them arguing wasn’t getting them anywhere.

Shit.

Thinking about Garrus this much isn’t getting her anywhere either. She’s got two jumpy guards six feet away and she needs to concentrate on somehow getting this assignment done. Her omni-tool appears with a quick flick of her wrist; it’s modded not to make a single sound. As soon as her hand curls into a fist and twists to the right, her combat drone appears. Punching forward, Piper rushes the closest batarian, leaving Shepard free to Overload the other’s shields.

The fight takes longer than she likes and all she can think of is how much faster things would be if Garrus was here.

At least things start to feel somewhat normal once Shepard frees Anna Kenson. Definitely not the same as having Garrus on her six, but the good doctor is better than nothing. As Kenson runs ahead and Shepard lets out an Incinerate, it almost reminds her of an N7 mission, where she would be dropped off on some strange planet, meet her contact - usually a complete stranger - and finish the mission.

Maybe she’ll be able to get back in time for bed, after all.

Well, fuck.

So she was wrong. Very wrong. Turns out fighting with the doctor is much worse than nothing.

Shepard doesn’t want to be fighting in this room. Doesn’t want to be fighting in a room full of Reaper artifacts. She’s already been exposed so many times. How much longer before she’s indoctrinated herself?

That sort of thinking will drive her to madness. If she manages to survive this ambush, then she can worry about things. Not like she’ll even know if she’s indoctrinated, right? Most she can hope for is that someone realizes - Garrus, probably, he knows her better than anyone - and that he’s able to put a bullet through her brain before she does anything stupid.

Garrus…

Her shields flinch as she takes another hit. In the distance, her combat drones blinks out of existence and Shepard doesn’t waste any time sending Piper out again. The distraction is desperately needed. Because she’s not sure she’s getting out of this one alive.

The irony is bitter. Survive one suicide mission, find a quiet sort of happiness, only to die on a mission that both the Alliance and Cerberus will completely disavow. Worse, to die alone. Again.

Shepard’s already done the dying alone thing, and it didn’t take. Now that she survived the suicide mission, she thinks she’ll give old age a try. This fight is really putting a damper on her plans.

Kenson is yelling something over the intercom just as Shepard sees one of the guards throw another damn grenade in her direction. Shepard does her best to roll out of cover, to get away from the flash grenade, but she’s not fast enough, not with the hits her shields are taking.

“Damnit!” Shepard yells as the world around her blurs. Her pistol falls to the floor as she blinks as rapidly as she can, willing her eyesight to come back.

While she might not be able to see, Shepard can mostly certainly hear, and at least two guards are rushing her. Without a moment’s hesitation, she lets out an Incinerate followed by a Cryo Blast.

It’s not enough, of course, it’s not enough.

She’s hit with something, who the fuck knows what, and just like that, her shields are gone. She’s blinded with no shields and in a room full of people who want her dead. Another hit. Maybe a concussion shot? Whatever it is sends a rush of nausea through her, enough to force her on all fours as she starts to dry heave.

This is it. Shepard is about to die. Not quite as painful as she remembers.

Hopefully Garrus forgives her for making him sleep alone tonight.

#mass effect #garrus vakarian #sonya shepard #otp: something to go right #hippo writes fanfiction

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dust2dust34 · 4 years

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Four Walls (Of Law Firms and Honey) - Olicity AU, Explicit

Summary: Oliver is Felicity’s boss at Queen & Queen, a prestigious international law firm. She’s the tech genius, he’s the top dog’s son, and they viciously disagree on nearly everything. Despite that, they work together, neither outright acknowledging the ever-present simmering attraction that has slowly been growing hotter and hotter…

Until a chance meeting at a grocery store one night has them crossing a line, a tiny little line that was never meant to be crossed.

A collection of ficlets in the same ‘verse: Of Law Firms and Honey.

Rated: Explicit

Full fic: AO3 | Tumblr | Timeline

Reminder: This is not a story about love. This is a story that ends in love, but it definitely does not start that way.

Please read the story tags and notes at the beginning of each chapter.

This fic is being told out of order. Please see the timeline to read them in order. Please see the previous installments for additional author notes and story information.

Check out the Four Walls playlist, and if you have suggestions, I’d love to hear them!

Additional A/N: This was originally intended for Olicity Clue, but I’m super late on that now. My prompts were Felicity’s glasses, Queen Consolidated, and Isabel Rochev. This is partially written for a Fic For Food Drive I’m taking part in (please check out the details here, and consider donating!), and I say partially because I intend on writing something else in this series for a generous donor.

(read on AO3)

10:06 p.m. Queen & Queen

“There you are. Of course you’re in the last box I check.”

Felicity fished out the honey, destroying her beautiful packing job in the process. Her stapler fell over and the Doctor Who mug she used for her pens and pencils tipped precariously against the tray filled with projects she wanted to finish. Projects you should probably delegate since you, you know, have people to delegate to now. Felicity made a face. Yes, fine, it was a logical idea, but they were hers, damn it. It was her blood and sweat that had made them, and she wanted to finish them the way only she knew how.

Not very boss-like of you.

“Learning curve,” she grumbled. She pulled the bottle out with a triumphant, “Ha!”

Silver caught her eye and she inched her door open to see the letters fully.

Felicity M. Smoak Director of Information Technologies

With a smile, Felicity brushed her fingers over her new title like she had, oh, twenty thousand times over the last two weeks. Her name, on her door, on her corner office - her huge corner office with glass walls that turn opaque when you click a switch, and a bathroom, and a couch… Everything was looking up. She was settling into her promotion, she was getting dinner with Caitlin and Barry this weekend, she had been given leeway to hire more techs to go along with being given the reigns for setting up the system at the new Queen Consolidated…

Everything was good.

Her computer dinged.

The smile evaporated as she spun to her desk.

“No.” Felicity hurried over to her computer. The thick area rug she’d bought first thing muffled the smack of her bare feet until she hit the marble floor again. “You’re not supposed to find anything, what are you finding?”

She landed in her chair with a plop so hard it sent her chair - an ergonomic monstrosity that still reeked of plastic from being packed away - rolling. She grabbed her desk to stop from crashing into the credenza behind her. The honey bottle got in the way and she tossed it away, sending it rolling into her still-steaming mug. Tea sloshed over the sides, but she barely noticed. Her eyes were too busy bouncing between the three screens before her, looking for what had made that very specific noise that had all the hair on the back of her neck rising.

Foreign code was in the system.

In her system.

“Frak,” Felicity breathed, attacking her keyboard. “Frak.”

A few keystrokes later, the alien code popped up on the middle screen, and she was ready to launch into a full-on attack…

Felicity frowned.

It was her code.

“What the hell?” she whispered.

It had her framework, her technique, but it was nothing like what she used here, at all. And nothing she had used, considering it was missing her signature. Which meant someone else had used her code on her servers. And simplistic as it was, it was still hers and very capable of doing damage. Which it had, she discovered with a curse, as she dug deeper, tripping over holes where files had once been. Not that it was hard - everything this person had touched was a flashing red hot mess that she would have eventually found anyway because they hadn’t even tried to cover their tracks.

So it was stolen and sloppy.

“Oh. Hell. No. You steal from me, and then you use it on my servers, and you don’t even try to pretend you didn’t? Do you even know who you’re messing with? Ooh no, no, no…”

It took all of twenty-three seconds to follow the trail.

She expected it to be from outside the building, to lead back to some whippersnapper who didn’t know who she was, and who was about to learn that when you mess with her company, you’re messing with her…

But it didn’t.

It led to a terminal right here in the building: QQ112.

Her chest hollowed, buzzing filling her ears, scorching heat numbing her fingers.

It was impossible to remember who was assigned to every computer at Queen & Queen. A handful stuck in her mind from her technician days. The attorneys who barely knew how to open their email. The users who lacked any common sense when it came to downloading any old thing they found on the internet. Those who thought they hid their browsing history on the extremely not-safe-for-work side of Reddit, and those who didn’t even bother. The ones who insisted on fixing problems themselves and always wound up making it worse.

And Oliver Queen’s computer.

She fought to breathe as she stared at the letter and number sequence. She waited for it to change, to become something else, attached to someone else, to not be this. But nothing happened.

Except something had happened, hadn’t it?

Ice scored her insides.

She had shown him that code months ago, before anything had happened between them, back when she thought he might have been a friend. She had shown it to him as a courtesy, to teach, to spread the knowledge and maybe make Queen & Queen better by association. Not to use it against his own firm’s servers. Not to use her code on Q&Q’s servers. If someone who knew half of anything happened to be in there, they would be able to spot it.

They would be able to trace it back to her.

“Son of a bitch.”

Rage tore into her gut.

“What did you do?” Felicity growled. She went after the code with a fervor that had her keyboard scooting over the desk with every furious keystroke. Her eyes darted across her screens as she used everything she could think of to find out exactly what he had been doing. Angry tears filled her eyes, but she blinked them away rapidly with a harsh curse. No. He didn’t deserve her tears. He didn’t deserve anything. She forced herself to breathe through a growing pressure in her chest, but all she could manage were short, sporadic breaths as she murmured, “You bastard. You stupid, stupid bastard…”

He had used the code two times. Both in January.

Felicity’s fingers faltered.

She hadn’t found out about her promotion until February.

The word sabotage seared her mind.

Is that what this was? They were co-directors now, more or less. They shared the department instead of her answering to him. She had taken his old position as Director of IT and a new one had been created for him - Director of Production. She had no idea what happened behind closed doors, but she’d wondered if everything she had done here - all that Oliver had taken credit for - had finally seen the light of day.

Or was this something else? Was it about Isabel, about the holiday party, about the horrible night that had followed here before she started separating herself from him and the debauched things they had done the last few months?

Fire ripped through her and more goddamn tears burned the back of her throat.

Isabel was gone and things hadn’t gone back to the way they were before.

Did he think they would?

Felicity fought to keep her hands from shaking - with anger, she told herself.

Things would never go back to the way they were. Because she didn’t want them to. Because she didn’t want him. She didn’t like waking up looking for him, missing his touch, or that there was an emptiness she couldn’t explain inside her. She hated that she felt anything at all. She hated what they had done. She hated who she was with him. She didn’t want whatever had been between them. And things were good now, she was happy, she was-

There.

He had deleted…

Emails?

Felicity leaned closer to the middle screen, as if she could make sense of the data fragments, but they were too broken still.

The only good thing about him using her code was she was able to deconstruct it quickly. Her code was effective, but it was simple, and it had nothing against the algos she threw at it to put them back together. If it had been someone else’s, it might have taken longer. But it was hers and she had a backup on top of her backups, and it was just a matter of time before she would see what he had destroyed…

All too soon bits and pieces of correspondence appeared. Broken email chains without senders or recipients, or dates or times, the words appearing in splintered sentences that had just enough for her to try and make sense of them.

It’s being split. I brought this up last month anyway,

It’s hers

Call me when you’re out

What do you want

Are you positive?

It can go out next week if you want

CONFIDENTIAL

We had an agreement. This is what you’ve been working towards. Are you sure?

Do you have any idea what you’re doing?

I found them

Let me know and we will get this in motion

I don’t think that’s a good idea

We have a deal

Call me.

yes

It’s best for everyone to get Felicity out

“Get Felicity out of what?” she demanded.

She tried to beef up the program to make it work faster, but there was too much information to cull through to find what was missing from the servers. Felicity huffed, even though she knew it was going as fast as it could within its limits. But waiting for every piece to appear, in the right order? She cursed under her breath. Her leg bounced in time with the speed of her thoughts, nearly matching the agitated beat of her heart. Pinpricks of heat danced over her cheeks, burning. It wasn’t until a lance of pain sliced through her jaw that she realized she had been chewing on the edge of her lip enough to tear a piece of skin.

“Ow,” she hissed, grimacing when her tongue touched the tiny wound. The taste of copper flooded her mouth.

Email addresses.

“Oh,” she blurted.

She could narrow the search to see who was involved. She hammered at the keyboard, changing the directives, switching priority to email addresses, and to order them by the amount of emails they appeared in.

A list immediately began populating.

[email protected] [email protected] [email protected] [email protected] [email protected] [email protected] [email protected] [email protected]

The floor fell out from under her.

Felicity stared at the last one, waiting for it to pop up and explain itself, but it didn’t. Instead a boulder crushed her chest and the back of her neck burned as ice showered her insides.

“I thought I’d find you up here, Oliver.”

“I see old habits die hard.”

“I like your shoes.”

“Isabel knows.”

The list continued.

[email protected] [email protected] [email protected] [email protected]

“What?” she breathed at the last one, but before she could even begin to put any of it together, the program started bringing up the corresponding emails. Her email address was attached to only one, and the subject simply read:

Please see the attached.

It wasn’t done loading, but she didn’t wait, opening it anyway. There was nothing in the body of the email. It was just the attachment, addressed to her…

And Oliver.

The attachment was a video.

From Isabel.

“Oh god,” she choked out, her stomach twisting. Her hands shook so hard the keyboard rattled and she snatched them back, digging her nails into her palms. She stared at the email, dread coating her insides like tar.

She told herself it was because it was still loading that she didn’t immediately hit play, but even when it finished - even when the other emails finished coming together - she didn’t touch it.

Felicity wasn’t sure how long she sat there until she finally opened the video.

All she saw were black and white flickers and pixelated snippets. The cursor along the bottom told her it was playing, but nothing showed up, and for a blissful second she let herself believe it was nothing.

Then an image appeared.

An agonized moan fell from deep in her chest.

It was her and Oliver, in an elevator. He had her pinned to one of the walls, his face buried in her neck, one hand in her hair, making a mess of it, the other migrating down her neck, then her chest. She didn’t have to watch to remember the feel of his fingers slipping inside the band of her skirt and yanking her blouse out where it was tucked, so hard it tore one of her buttons. She had one of her legs up as much as her skirt would allow and wrapped around his, so damn eager that she hadn’t cared in the slightest where they were.

Isabel had this.

Her stomach pitched until she thought she was going to be sick.

In a twisted haze, Felicity watched her own hands claw down his back, raking over Oliver’s suit jacket where it strained against the width of his shoulders. She dug her nail into his neck. Her eyes half-closed, her mouth slack in pleasure, so obviously flushed despite the grey wash of the video. She remembered waking up with hickeys and bite marks all over her neck and chest. She had been so mad, she numbly recalled. But not while it was happening. Never while it was happening.

The Plaza, she remembered. They had used the suite the firm kept there for high-end clients.

“They never check the records, Smoak. They don’t want to know.”

The video abruptly switched, and it showed her walking backwards with Oliver following her down the hallway, towards the Premier Suite.

It occurred to Felicity in that second that it wasn’t showing his face.

There was no way there wasn’t video somewhere of him - entering the elevator, at the very least, because someone else had been on there when they’d first gotten on. Oliver had been standing next to her, only attacking her when the person got off a floor later. But the way the video played, if someone didn’t know, it looked like Felicity was taking some random person up to the suite.

His back was still to the camera as they reached the door. She had the key card, having taken it from him earlier, and she slipped it into the lock. She twisted the handle before turning to enter the room backwards. The soft lights overhead reflected on her glasses as she grabbed Oiver’s tie and yanked him in with her.

A blip of static overtook the screen and then it showed her slipping out of the room some time later, head bowed, her hair up in a chaotic ponytail, her clothes askew, her heels in-hand as she hurried to the elevator.

Alone.

It was all her.

The numbness cracked, just enough to take a breath, to frown, to think.

Felicity switched back to the email from Isabel. Short. Simple. To the point. To both her and Oliver.

So why…?

But if someone knew it was Oliver with her, that they were using the suite under his name, under the firm’s name, then there wouldn’t be much reproach, would there? Because regardless of his status within the firm, he was still a Queen. A hand-slapping, perhaps, and she would surely get reprimanded in some way.

Just her, though? Seemingly taking advantage of the firm like this?

But then why had she gotten the promotion she’d been angling for since long before Oliver swooped in and stole it out from under her last year?

She shook her head. None of it made sense.

Heart fluttering so fast it hurt, Felicity flipped through the other emails. There were so many of them, a couple dozen easily, most of them formalities, simple back and forths, nothing substantive. The ones between Oliver and his father were the most confusing, both of them talking in shorthand about a plan, something Oliver had been working towards, their conversations talking around something they both obviously knew and didn’t need to explain.

She stopped when she saw an email from [email protected] to [email protected].

No subject, no body, not even a signature.

Just an attachment.

A draft announcement naming Isabel Rochev as CEO of the newly formed Queen Consolidated.

Release date: March 1.

Felicity stared at the mockup uncomprehendingly. She read the words over and over until they blurred. She noted the empty spot where Isabel’s picture would go. She stared at the question mark after the date in parentheses. She tried to think, to understand what she was seeing, what she had seen. What had happened. How it had happened… and all without her ever knowing. It was blackmail, plain as day. Isabel had the perfect leverage in her possession.

And she had used it to get what she wanted.

“Oh my god,” Felicity blurted. “What did you do? What did you do?”

She grabbed her phone with trembling hands, swiping it open, going straight to her phone app. Muscle memory dialed the number she could never forget, but when his name appeared because her phone recognized it, her heart spasmed and she almost hit the END button.

A soft trill echoed from down the hallway.

Felicity’s head jerked up, her breath catching.

Another trill, so faint she barely heard it.

But she did.

Her phone hit her desk with a thud, but she didn’t hear it, already up and out the door. Her bare feet barely made a sound as she followed the ringing past darkened offices, a copy room, the shadowed kitchen, to the opposite corner of the floor.

To his office.

The trill abruptly stopped followed by a harsh, “What?”

She heard it from the open door that came into view when she turned the corner.

A nervous wash of adrenaline crashed through her veins, especially when a softer, “Felicity?” followed. The closer she got, the more her limbs felt like they were going to shatter, each step shakier than the last. “Felicity?”

She heard him so clearly her mouth went dry.

Felicity stopped when she reached his door.

Oliver stood by his sitting area, just like the one she had, his office a mirror version of hers. He had a sheaf of paper in one hand, his phone in the other, a dark glower on his face as he glared at the little coffee table before him.

Her chest squeezed tight.

It had been so long since she’d been in here - so long since she’d seen him, period. He seemed bigger, yet somehow he took up less space. His muscles were bulkier, but his waist was leaner. His face had a gauntness that hadn’t been there before, his jaw sharp and angular. His tie was off, the first buttons of his shirt undone, the sleeves rolled up in messy bunches, his hair askew from running his hands through it. Dark circles underlined his eyes and in place of his signature scruff was the beginning of an unkempt beard.

She had deliberately not sought him out. She didn’t look for him. She barely offered him a glance when they had to interact outside of telephone calls or emails.

He looked like hell.

She stepped inside.

“Are you…?” he started before he saw her.

Oliver’s words died off, surprise widening his eyes. Then he frowned, and the closer she got, the deeper the furrow between his brow went.

“Felicity?” he said, his voice low, rough. “What’s wrong-”

She grabbed his face with both hands as she pushed up onto her toes and kissed him.

He froze. She barely noticed under the press of his lips to hers again. They were dry, chapped, but still so soft, just like she remembered.

Felicity whimpered and grasped him tighter, pressing closer, kissing him harder. The little wound she’d given herself a few minutes ago burned under the pressure, but the pain only edged the heady sensation of his mouth against hers again. God, she had missed it, she had missed him, more than she wanted to admit. But it was impossible to deny right now, when it had been months, when the last time she had kissed him had been in anger, her only intent to hurt and maim, to inflict the pain she’d felt. There was none of that now. This was different.

He stood stock still. He didn’t even breathe, stiff and unrelenting, implacable.

Until he wasn’t.

Oliver melted into her.

She gasped at the abrupt surrender, the sound morphing into a strung out cry as he kissed her back. He dropped the papers and his phone, both landing with a thud, the papers hitting her naked toes, but she barely felt it. He wound his arms around her and yanked her off her feet.

It had been so long.

Too long.

Felicity opened her mouth at the same time he did, their tongues meeting halfway. She groaned at the first taste, eclipsing his breathy whine. He clutched her hard as he bowed forward, chasing the kiss with vigor, his tongue spearing into her mouth. Her knees buckled, her feet hitting the ground in an uncoordinated mess, and it was only because of his hold that she didn’t fall. But then she pushed off the floor, shoving back against him, kissing him with equal ardor. Teeth collided, lips yanking, pulling, sucking, tongues exploring and tasting and tangling. Despite how they chased each other, he still eclipsed her, surrounding her, swallowing her up. She whimpered at the overwhelming sensation and he drank it all in as his hands roamed all over her, before falling to her ass. He gripped her so hard she broke away with a cry.

He didn’t let her get far, though, and she didn’t want him to.

Not anymore.

Oliver captured her mouth again, sucking on her bottom lip, groaning when she nipped at him.

The back of her legs collided with something hard before she even realized they were moving. The coffee table. The heavy, low-sitting furniture scooted across the floor, but they just followed it. Oliver urged her down with hard hands. Felicity clawed into his shoulders, unwilling to release his lips, forcing him to follow her as she laid back on the table. It was awkward and uneven, but neither of them cared, or bothered to fix it, because it meant stopping, and that couldn’t happen. Oliver loomed over her, gripping the edges of the table, his muscles rippling to keep from crushing her as he ravaged her mouth with a thoroughness that left her head spinning.

But then all too soon, he was wrenching away.

With a ragged gasp of air and fogged glasses, Felicity arched up to follow him - don’t go, don’t stop, don’t - but he just fell to his knees before her. She tried to spread her legs to wrap around him, needing to feel him pressed against her as much as possible, but her skirt was too tight. She frantically yanked it up as his hands flew to his belt and pants.

Heavy breathing and the rustle of clothes were the only sounds for a moment.

Pants half-hanging open, Oliver grappled for his wallet. He ripped it out of his pocket and dug out a square package. He tossed the leather away as Felicity pushed her panties down, pulling her legs up enough to yank them down one leg, leaving them hanging off her foot as she spread for him.

Oliver’s eyes dropped to her sex. Mouth swollen, cheeks flushed, lids heavy, he stared at her as he rolled the condom down his length, his pupils eclipsing the stormy blue as he drank her in.

A shiver shot down her spine.

She missed this, missed how he looked at her, half-drunk with need that matched her own.

“Please,” she begged, grasping the edges of the table and scooting closer to him. “Oliver.”

He grabbed her hips, yanking her until her ass hung off the edge. The swollen head of his cock rubbed up her cleft, and then back down, nudging her entrance.

“Yes-”

Oliver thrust in, hard and fast.

Felicity shouted at the intrusion. Her back bowed, her eyes squeezing shut as he filled her to the brim. The pressure was incredible, his girth stretching her nearly to the point of pain. She felt him in every inch of her body and it stole the air right out of her lungs.

“Shit,” Oliver gasped, his hands grabbing her waist as he pulled back out. “I’m sorry-”

“No,” Felicity pleaded. “Don’t-”

She found his hips and yanked him inside her once more. She hissed when he stretched her so wide it was all she could to keep breathing. But she did, and she angled her hips to take him in even deeper. She hadn’t realized how much she had shut down, shut him out, not even entertaining the option, to the point she wasn’t ready for him like she would have been before. But she would be, again. She knew if they kept moving, her body would catch up. It would.

Her name fell off his lips in a choked moan as his fingers dug into her ribs.

To stop her. To pull out. To leave her.

Felicity shook her head wildly.

“No, no, it’s okay, it’s okay,” she babbled breathlessly, but her voice breaking betrayed her. She arched up to keep him inside her. “It’s just… been a while, I’m… I’m okay, I’m not… I can’t… Just don’t stop. Please don’t stop. Don’t stop-”

She was begging him.

The anguish in her voice sliced her heart to ribbons. She felt ready to burst into a thousand pieces, for a thousand different reasons, and absolutely none of them made sense. She had prided herself on keeping her distance, on being stronger than whatever was between them, on being able to walk away.

But now all of that was gone in the blink of an eye, just gone, as if it had never been there.

The realization tore through her and Felicity fell back against the table with a broken cry.

All of it had been a lie. She was a lie. Everything she told herself she felt was a lie.

Another sob threatened to escape, but she bit it back. Because the only thing that mattered in this moment was staying here. With him. She needed to be here - with him - and she couldn’t think about it, about what it meant. She could only feel.

She only wanted to feel.

“Please,” Felicity breathed, arching up again, her legs winding around him, her nails scrabbling under his shirt. “Don’t stop. Please-”

“I’m not,” Oliver whispered in a rush, falling over her. It changed the angle of his hardness inside her and she whimpered as he cupped her face on a ragged, “I’m not stopping. Ever,” before his lips found hers in a burning kiss.

It matched her desperation so perfectly that tears burned her eyes. It shouldn’t soothe her, and she knew that. But it did, and it felt so good, so right, to be here, to be back with him. But it was more than that. It grounded her, in a way she couldn’t do herself. She mewled, opening for him, winding her arms around his shoulders. He kissed her until they were both gasping for air, and then he kissed her even more, deeper, harder.

He invaded her in every way possible.

More.

Felicity twisted his shirt, twisting it, yanking. She slid one hand under the collar, and then his undershirt. His skin was blisteringly hot against her palm, and she moaned, kissing him harder as she dug her nails into his muscles. His hips jerked into hers, and this time they both moaned when he slid in a little easier, sending tiny bolts of pleasure through her.

“Off,” she mumbled, tugging at his shirt. “Off.”

He didn’t bother with the buttons, ripping his dress shirt off along with his undershirt. Buttons went scattering, but Felicity barely heard them pinging, or felt the ones that hit her as she yanked her own shirt off.

Her breath caught at the sight he made. His abs stood out in stark relief, too stark, the lines of his body harsh and rigid, a wall of pure muscle. He had always been well-defined, but this was extreme. Felicity flattened her hands to his stomach and smoothed them. She was transfixed by the feel of his hot, silky skin over such hardness, her fingers ghosting over his taut nipples, his rock-hard pecs…

“C’mere,” Oliver grunted, hooking his fingers in the front of her bra and yanking her up.

The lace tore across her skin and she yelped as she crashed into his chest. The pain only fueled her need as the new angle had him shifting inside her again, gasoline on a fire, turning a simmer into an inferno.

Felicity’s teeth found his collarbone.

He cried out, grabbing the back of her neck. He crowded her closer as she worked her way up his neck, savoring his salty taste, sucking and nipping, leaving little marks that would be there for days.

“Fuck… Felicity…”

She’d never heard her name so many times from him like this. She was always Smoak. But not right now, and the knowledge that he was just as undone as she was had her licking and sucking harder, wanting to hear more of it. He gave it to her, a raspy plea as he turned his face into her hair, his breathing hot and damp, his fingers digging into her neck as she marked him, up his throat, his jaw…

On a groan, Oliver captured her lips with his as he inched his hips forward.

He filled her up, so much more smoothly, so good, so perfectly. Burning need arched through her, the pressure changing, her slickening inner walls clamping down on him. Oliver swallowed down her cries, matching them with his own as he pulled out a bit to thrust back in. He rubbed against her with each thrust, his pubic bone hitting her clit, sending little bursts of pleasure sparking through her. She keened, clinging to him, and he did it again, and again, slow and steady, making sure she was ready for him.

“Yes,” she whimpered, grabbing his face, kissing them both breathless. “Yes.”

His fingers found the clasp of her bra. He undid it quickly and pushed her back down to the table.

The cold tabletop was a shock, but then Oliver was pulling her bra off, tossing it away…

And then all she felt was the burn of his gaze, and then his hands as he grasped her waist.

His hips slowed as he stared at her with unfathomable eyes, so dark, so intense. It was almost like he couldn’t get enough of what he saw. Captivated. Transfixed. His gaze danced all over her, up her chest, her neck, her mouth, then back down to her breasts, her abdomen.

“Felicity…”

He dragged her name out, tasting every single syllable. Did he know what he was saying? He couldn’t, she thought, not with how he looked at her, or how he touched her. There was a reverence that hadn’t been there before.

Felicity’s heart skipped, her mouth going dry, her stomach fluttering.

She had missed him, so much, and not just his body. But that was the confusing part. They didn’t have a relationship. They didn’t have anything.

And yet… the way he looked at her… how he made her feel…

“Felicity…”

She shivered, and fought to breathe, but then he was touching her. Oliver smoothed his hands up her waist, his thumbs brushing the undersides of her breasts before slipping back down, one hand cupping her ribs, the other spanning the width of her stomach…

So soft.

So gentle.

Felicity shuddered, goosebumps erupting over her skin. They sent another shiver ripping down her spine, and another. The goosebumps spread everywhere, her chest, her stomach, her breasts, peaking her nipples into hard little beads that ached.

It was nothing compared to the way he stared at her.

It was too much.

“Oliver,” Felicity choked.

His dark gaze flew to hers and her heart clenched at the look in them.

Too much.

She grabbed his hands and slid them up to her breasts, cupping herself with his fingers. Lust slackened his face and he took over, squeezing them before raking his thumbs over her nipples. Pleasure spiked through her and she moaned, loudly, and he did it again.

“Yes,” she breathed, nodding, closing her eyes as she arched her back, rocking her hips. “Please. I need you-”

On a harsh growl, Oliver squeezed her breasts, so hard and fast it took her breath away. Using his grasp on her to keep her still, he thrust into her, burying himself as deep as he could. Her hands scrambled up his arms for something to hold onto as he gripped her breasts, relentless and unforgiving, and thrust into her again. Again. Again.

“Oh… god!” she cried. “Oh… oh god…!”

Oliver fell on top of her, pinning her to the table, spreading her legs impossibly wide.

“Say it again,” he demanded, his mouth finding hers in a messy kiss.

She struggled to respond, but his demanding lips stole her ability to do anything. He ripped away only to shove his hands up into her hair. He destroyed her ponytail, pulling on the long strands until enough was free so he could make tight fists. Oliver braced himself over her and used his new leverage to pull out nearly all the way before thrusting home, so hard the table shook. Felicity shouted, grabbing his sides for something to hold onto. She was completely at his mercy and it had a rush of arousal sweeping through her, her juices flooding her sex, a desperate ache for him to fuck her sensenless razing her from the inside out. Blood rushed in her ears, her heart pounded, heat swamped her veins, a mind-numbing pressure deep in her core coiling tighter as Oliver thrust into her so hard the table slid across the floor.

“Say it.”

“I need you,” Felicity gasped. He groaned at the words. “I need you. I need you. I need you.”

They moved together, finding a rhythm to his pleading, “Again,” and her breathless, “I need you,” echoed by the sounds of their harsh pants for air and her wet sex taking in every inch of him over and over until they both dissolved into mindless cries.

The orgasm hit her in a tidal wave, bowling her over, eclipsing everything. White sheeted over her eyes, a series of short, startled cries flying from her as she fell to pieces.

Oliver’s grip on her tightened so much she whimpered as he started thrusting with abandon. Hard, harder, each collision sending her higher, dragging her pleasure out until she didn’t know where he began and she ended. His forehead landed on hers, skin slick, his breaths hot and ragged against her mouth. Felicity grabbed hold of him, cradling him, nonsensical words falling from her as he plowed into her, erratic and frantic, chasing his pleasure.

He jerked, his back bowing, his pistoning hips stuttering.

With a strangled, “Felicity,” on his lips, he came.

Oliver collapsed on top of her, burying his face into her throat, her skin muffling his desperate noises. He didn’t stop, his hips rocking into her as he rode out his orgasm, her inner walls milking every last bit out of him, his cock twitching deep inside her with each burst.

It was a long moment before he finally slowed, and then fell still.

Buzzing filled her head.

Pleasure. Satisfaction. Shock. Confusion.

She wanted him to move. But she didn’t. She wanted to want to. She wanted to get off this uncomfortable table, to get his bulk off her where he crushed her, but at the same time, she didn’t. She didn’t want to move. Ever.

Oliver made the decision for her.

He slowly pushed up. He slipped out of her, trying to quiet his groan when he left her wet heat. Felicity bit her lip so hard it nearly tore the skin as her sex clenched at the sudden emptiness. And then he was off of her, pushing to his feet. He grabbed his pants, yanking them back up as he turned away from her.

He didn’t look at her once.

Felicity sat up, grimacing at the throb blossoming between her thighs. She stood up gingerly, her hands shaking as she pushed her skirt back down. The silence was deafening. He moved to his desk, peeling the condom off as he went before tying it off and tossing it. The cool office air stung her sweaty skin and she crossed her arms over her breasts, looking around for her blouse.

She spotted it in a crumpled heap next to his tangled shirts.

It smelled like him when she slipped it over her head.

“Were you supposed to be the CEO of Queen Consolidated?”

Silence.

Felicity looked at him where he stood by his desk, his hands frozen where he’d been re-buttoning his pants. The slacks were tight across his backside, stretched over his thighs in a way that they hadn’t been before. His back was covered in red marks where she’d raked her nails over him, making the well-defined muscles in his back stand out in harsher relief when he finished fastening the buttons. His belt was next.

That was it.

“You were, weren’t you?” she asked. The full weight of that hit her and Felicity’s ribs closed in around her, making her gasp. “You were leaving Q&Q. But now you’re not. Because of Isabel. Because of…”

Us.

He turned his head slightly, but that was it.

“How did she know?” she asked. She caught the edge of his forehead creasing in a frown. “About the Plaza. That we were there that one night…” He finally turned, his brow creased in muted surprise, and she huffed. “C’mon, Oliver, give me a little more credit than that. This is my system, remember? I know when something’s wrong. Or… missing. I saw the video. And the emails. And the announcement about her, that you sent. Like it was… gift-wrapped. Because she had something that she couldn’t have possibly known about, didn’t she? But the odds of her picking that one night…”

He didn’t answer her. He just turned to his desk.

“Oliver-”

He opened one of the bottom drawers and pulled out…

“My glasses?” Felicity frowned when she recognized the frames. She absently reached up to touch the replacement pair she currently wore. “I thought I lost those.”

“A couple weeks ago…” Oliver said in a low voice, not making a move to hand them to her. He tilted them back and forth in his fingers, the move so easy and familiar, as if he’d done it a thousand times. He stared at them as he spoke. “Isabel walked into my office and handed these to me. I told her they could be anybody’s, but then she showed me the security tape.”

Felicity’s heart sank. “Oh god…”

“I told her to go to hell,” he continued, still watching the glasses. He huffed. “She must not have liked that very much because then she sent the video to both of us. Except this time it was focused on you. She said she wanted you gone, and that if we didn’t do anything about it, she would take the video to the Board, since you not only work here, but are slated to be so involved with getting Queen Consolidated set up.”

Felicity closed her eyes.

This was her fault. It wasn’t them, together, specifically. It was her. She remembered wanting to escape that room the next morning more than anything, before Oliver woke up, before she had to face what they had done. Again.

“It was a game to her,” he said and she opened her eyes to see his locked on her. “She wanted to see what we would do when she pushed us into a corner. If it was just me, or if it was both of us, I could have at least… But it was you, and I knew I couldn’t do anything without risking her releasing that tape, so I gave her something she couldn’t resist.”

“Queen Consolidated.”

“Queen Consolidated,” he echoed. The broken way his lips lifted in a half-smile, an attempt to hide the depth of what he had given up, cracked her open. “It didn’t matter, though. Whatever we had, it had nothing to do with your job. You’re the best asset this firm has and I wasn’t going to let you pay the price for something that wasn’t your fault.”

Felicity could only stand there, staring at him, too overwhelmed to comprehend any of it.

So she focused on the one thing she could fix.

“She still has the video.”

Oliver pursed his lips on a slow nod. “Yeah.”

“Well then, I guess it’s a good thing they tapped me to set up Queen Consolidated, isn’t it?” She gave him a tight smile before lifting her hands to wiggle her fingers at him. “I’ll get it. Somehow. Once I’m in, I’m kind of hard to escape.”

Something flickered over his face, but it was so tiny, nearly indiscernible, that she wondered if she saw it. Then she remembered how he’d looked at her a moment ago and her heart faltered.

He dropped his eyes back to the glasses.

“Here.” Oliver cleared his throat as he stepped towards her and held them out to her.

Felicity slowly took them. “Thank you.”

All he had was a tight nod and a bland attempt at a smile before he turned away.

She grabbed his arm. “Oliver, wait-”

He looked back, his brow twisted in what she could only read as concern, but she barely gave herself time to discern it.

The second he faced her, she pushed up onto her toes again and kissed him.

It was soft, chaste, her lips capturing his with an ease that settled something deep inside her.

“Come home with me,” she whispered against his lips.

He hesitated and her chest caved in.

“Please.”

An eternity passed, their breaths mingling, noses brushing, but that was it.

She pressed her lips together before biting her bottom lip, the urge to ask him again - to beg - overwhelming her, nearly taking over.

Please.

Oliver pulled back and she barely bit back a whimper. He was going to say no. She squeezed her eyes shut, unwilling to see the look he gave her, to face what she was asking him, after she had slammed the door in his face. Felicity bit her lip harder, fighting to keep more words from falling out…

He cupped her jaw.

Felicity’s eyes flew open as his thumb tugged her lip away from her teeth with a whispered, “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

The word was out before she could think, and the second it was, his mouth was on hers. With a sigh, she fell into him as Oliver wound his arms around her, pulling her into him. They opened for each other, and she whimpered when he took a deeper taste, re-sealing the unspoken bond between them.

“Yes.”

Thank you so much for reading! Reviews literally feed the soul and muse!

On a final note, I want to thank everyone who has engaged with me about this story. I appreciate every single comment and tweet and DM and ask. I know the way I'm writing them in this 'verse is very challenging, and demanding, and it's not an easy read. But it shouldn't be, because I don't want it to be. I don't want my readers comfortable during certain parts of this story, because I'm not comfortable. I'm pushing a lot of boundaries with this story. This is my most difficult undertaking to date, and I question myself at every turn in this process. All the more reason I truly appreciate those who continue to read, who reach out, who share their thoughts with me. I'm learning a lot about myself as I go on, and I thank you for being on this journey with me!

#olicity #olicity fic #olicity fanfic #olicity fanfiction #olicitysquee #oliver queen #felicity smoak #arrow #fanfiction #olicity au #of law firms and honey #four walls #my fics #my fics: au

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that-one-fandom-vore-blog · 4 years

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chained and bound (to this hopeless town)

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3

Ao3 Link

Good things happen to bad people. Bad things happen to good people. Which must mean Anna Shephard must be the best fucking person to have ever lived, or, at least, the best person left alive. Lucky her. To be fair, she hasn’t got much competition. As far as she knows, she, Steph, and Nick are the only people still alive. After a year of fighting off the undead, struggling to come to terms with her new reality, Anna is suddenly thrown back into the midst of her past without so much as a warning. Old friends, old faces, and old fears all resurface, along with zombies that seem to be getting smarter with every new day. So much for a warm welcome...

Co-written with the wonderful @thebadhalfofafandom! Warnings up here for: Flashbacks, panic elements, gore, swearing, zombies, and vore.

“Out of all the places for the damn engine to freeze up, it’s here?!” Anna shouted as she swung herself out of the car, slamming the blue painted door shut behind her for good measure. She could practically feel Nick and Steph looking at her as she stalked to the front of the car, looking helplessly down at the blue hood as if she could convince it to start up with a glare. It had been running just fine— fine enough, for the clunker it was— three bloody seconds ago, but now, fucking now, the engine had finally quit.

Anna scuffed a shoe on the ground before delivering a swift, sharp kick to the blasted thing’s tire, hard enough to send a jolt up through her foot. “Fuck,” she hissed under her breath, then again, louder: “FUCK!”

Drawing back her foot, she kicked the vehicle again. Harder, this time, squarely on the side of the door with a dull thump with enough force to chip the paint.

“You don’t have to blame the car,” Steph huffed, coming to stand beside Anna with her hands stuffed firmly in her pockets. “Blame the snow— or the idiot,” she paused, giving Nick a pointed glare, “who was driving.”

The glare she earned in return was almost as heated. “Oh, fuck off, Steph,” Nick shot back, “s’not my shitbox that got us stranded, anyway!” His volume rose dangerously at the end of his sentence, the words coming out in a near bark.

Neither of the others dignified him with a response as his boots crunched in the snow, grumbling under his breath. It wasn’t worth trying to decode anything he said— Anna had dated him before, and if she was being honest, she’d rather date a zombie. He practically was one, anyway.

...he’s gotten better.

A year of travel had done the tensions in the group good, and besides, he didn’t eat brains.

Though… as Anna watched him pace in a circle around the hood, she was beginning to doubt he even had one in his thick skull. She’d definitely rather date a zombie, and where better to find one than Little Haven? That, as far as she knew, was where it had all started…

Out of all the places to break down, why did the little blue shitbox have to pick here?

Anna’s gaze drifted from the sight of Nick and Steph glowering at the engine, which was now starting to let off a good amount of smoke, to the surrounding countryside. There wasn’t much there to see, not really, but Anna didn’t need the visual. She could see it so perfectly in her mind’s eye, the snow stained with blood, the smoke rising in the horizon. She could feel it, too, feel raw terror curling in her chest like a poisonous snake and the feeling of another hand locked tight with hers, but then it was being pulled away and she was screaming, screaming with a voice that splintered and broke—

“JOHN!”

Her grip on the candy cane she called a weapon tightened. Her heart started to beat harder in her throat, like when she’d watched— she’d just watched— as her best friend was—

Do. Not. Think. About. That.

Snapping back into the present, trying to force those thoughts out of her head— thoughts of gentle eyes and bloodied screams— Anna crossed her arms and watched with a clenched jaw as the other two bent over the hood. Steph had popped it open, and although Nick looked like he wanted to help, Anna knew Steph wouldn’t be letting him anywhere near the engine.

Sucking in a breath through her teeth, she began to saunter over. She held the plastic candy cane in a too-tight grip, though, managed to look as casual as she could. Her breath formed a cloud in front of her face as she carefully stepped closer, squinting over Nick’s shoulder to see what the problem was.

...whatever the problem was.

Was a car’s engine supposed to look so black?

The whole thing smelled like gasoline, though, and she was quick to cover her nose against the stench.

“Fuck,” she intoned again, slamming one hand down on the hood for good measure, loud enough to make Nick jump back in fright. “Fucking— god— how come it had to be here?” She moaned, unable to keep her voice from sounding far too sharp. “This has got to be the WORST place on earth—”

“Yeah, and screaming about it when there could be zombies around is a great idea!” Nick cut in, shuddering violently in the cold. “S’fucking freezing, Anna, and there’re more important things to worry about than the fact that the ruddy car broke down, alright?”

"What? Am I not allowed to be upset that the moment we get back into this shitty little town in the middle of winter, we get stranded. And now you're just standing there!” Her gaze flicked down to the weapon hanging loyally at his belt, and she gestured blindly at it. “Being all 'at least I got a cool gun now' as if that'll help us! News flash, asshole, it won’t! Not unless it’s loaded with screws!”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Steph flinch.

“It’s like you’ve never even seen a car before—” she tried to joke, though, Nick’s voice was louder.

"At least I'm not screeching about it!" He hissed at Anna, who looked like she was going to beat him with her candy cane as he stalked closer. She felt like beating him with her candy cane, come to think. It’d be satisfying to just bash his head in and—

She barely realized she was raising the lawn ornament until Steph stepped between them and raised a hand in Anna’s direction. Her eyes were narrowed in a glare, and although her tone was light, there was anger flickering just beneath its surface.

"Hey ladies, why don’t we just focus on finding a place to stay rather than arguing who's being the least productive?” She asked, seemingly immune to the glare Anna shot her way. Instead, she locked eyes with the taller girl. Her hand came back to rest at her side, though, not before scrubbing over her face. “Look,” she started, taking a step back to stand before them, “this is ass, but you don’t have to be assholes about it, okay? So shut the fuck up, let’s ditch the car,”

“Shitbox,” Nick corrected.

Steph pinched the bridge of her nose and inhaled sharply. She looked almost ready to snap, though, as the engine belched out another thick plume of smoke, she sighed. “Shitbox…” she corrected, glumly, turning her eyes to the still-steaming engine as she continued, “and find somewhere where we won’t get eaten alive, okay?”

Anna didn’t answer.

Nick shuffled his feet.

Again, Steph sighed, heavier and harsher. “Okay?” She tried again, elbowing Nick hard in the ribs for emphasis.

“Fine, fine, okay— just keep your hands off me!” He sputtered, annoyance written across his face. The snow crunched under his weight as he stepped to the side, crossing his arms tightly against his chest. “So what’s the plan, then?”

All eyes turned to Steph.

The silence that fell was somehow worse than the argument. It was awkward, broken only by a few little sputters from the shitbox’s engine trying dogeddly to start.

“Don’t fuckin’ look at me like that!” She protested, though, after a moment of silence and a kick delivered to the ground, she exhaled heavily. “What about the school?”

Anna stiffened, but before she could speak, Nick shook his head.

“No. Too risky. After Savage let those fuckers in, they probably got stuck inside,” he explained. “And voila, zombie motel.”

Steph set her jaw. “What about an actual motel?”

A snort escaped Anna. “A literal zombie motel. Check-in at the front desk, gotta be out by ten, don’t mind the bellhop, he bites.”

It sounded funnier in her head. It came out too sharp, too sarcastic, and was met with an awkward sort of silence.

She coughed and looked up at Nick. “This whole town’s gonna be completely infected.”

“It’s been a year,” he returned, evenly.

“Great.” Anna’s cold glare only intensified as she started speaking again. “A year for all those things to get hungry and fester. You’d need a bunker if you didn’t want to—“

In a flurry of motion, Nick gave a shit-eating grin and snapped his fingers. “A bunker!”

Anna couldn’t help but snicker. “What, you know where one is? Got one in your backyard?”

Nick’s grin only grew. His chest puffed out with pride and as Anna watched, he put his arms to the sides. “The military base! It probably has backup generators, or at least of a lot of stuff that we can burn. Won’t smell great or anything, but the army’s fucked off from there, so the place is ours.”

"Holy shit, you're right!" Steph exclaimed. Nick’s enthusiasm was contagious, apparently. The short blonde gave a laugh of disbelief. “We could probably get there before dark, if we really hoof it.”

Anna looked up to the sun where it sat in the sky and squinted for a moment through the clouds before giving a small, apprehensive nod. “Okay,” she huffed out, before giving a soft snicker. “Can’t believe we forgot we had an airbase. It’s practically on our doorstep.”

Steph’s nose wrinkled. “It practically was on my doorstep,” she grumbled back, though, any irritation was masked with a crooked smile. “Military assholes had no concept of when was too early to be practicing their shooting.”

As the trio began to march forward through the snow, Anna gave a snicker. “Yeah, reminds me of our asshole, here.”

“Hey!”

Steph exhaled a laugh and shook her head, once again, moving to jab Nick in the ribs. “Quiet, remember? Don’t wanna attract any zombies.”

“Yeah,” Anna agreed with a cheeky grin, “‘specially not because you’re firing that thing at the ass crack of dawn.”

The three fell into an easy step together. If Anna squinted, she could almost pretend things were back to normal. It was just like they were hanging out during a snow day, really, with the small flakes that were beginning to fall and their breath fogging up the air. The snow had masked the town Anna remembered as Little Haven, masked the carnage and blood that had been there as they’d sped off in Steph’s bright blue shitbox.

They didn’t talk much, though, they didn’t need to. The place was a ghost town. Nothing seemed to move, not a zombie, nor another group of survivors. Little Haven had never been much— it was Little Haven, for fuck’s sake— but it seemed so much more barren than she’d remembered.

Because you’re remembering it before everything went to shit.

Those memories were getting blurrier. With everything she saw, every broken window, every unhinged door, they began to replace the thoughts of riding her battered bike down the streets. When things were better. Back when her and her father would make snow angels on the lawn, and John would be over, smiling that crooked smile and—

Don’t.

She quickened her step. That was the last thing she needed to be thinking about. He was the last thing she needed to be thinking about. She didn’t need to think about his dreams, or how she felt when his arms were wrapped around her and the horde was converging, grabbing at him with their spindly fingers and—

Fucking don’t.

Setting her jaw, Anna lowered her head and tried to focus on where they were going.

“This place gives me the fucking creeps,” Steph commented, breaking the silence that had been steadily growing around them.

Nick scuffed a boot against the snow. “Yeah, ditto,” he agreed.

There was an awkward silence where Anna should’ve spoken, but instead, she slung her candy cane over her shoulder. The hard plastic resting on her shoulder was a small comfort. It kept her grounded, reminding her of the fact that Little Haven as she knew it was gone. She bumped it up against her shoulder between steps, harder with every second

The sun had just begun to set as the group finally found the chain-link fence that surrounded the base. That sinking feeling that had accompanied Anna right from the start— that feeling she could only describe as Little Haven dread— had only gotten worse, and it intensified when she looked upward at the cold steel.

“Shit…” She mumbled.

She knew it wouldn’t be easy— it was a fucking military base, for Christ’s sake, it wasn’t going to be a cakewalk.

Out of the corner of her eye, she watched as Steph took her pack off her shoulder and began to sift through its contents.

“I can’t fucking see anything,” Nick grumbled. “How am I supposed to—“

Steph hit him in the back of the head with a flashlight, ignoring the sharp yelp of protest she earned in response. “Here.” She snapped, passing another to Anna without making eye contact. Her gaze was fixed upward, and as Anna looked up as well, she saw what Steph was looking at.

Sharp spikes of barbed wire lined the top of the fence.

“So we’re not climbing,” As she spoke, Anna’s eyes began to travel along the length of the chain link, looking in vain for any sort of opening. Zombies wouldn’t be able to get in, she hoped, but neither would they…

The snow was piled high beside the posts, and just as Anna was trying to figure out if it was worth trying to climb—

“You just gonna stand there looking pretty?”

Anna flinched. Her gaze shot to where Nick had been standing moments ago, though, as she flicked on the light, her brow furrowed.

Where—

“Over here,” his voice came again, and as Anna tried to locate it, she turned her head back to the impossible fence—

To meet Nick’s gaze and cheeky grin from the other side.

“Gate’s open,” he remarked, gesturing over to his right with his flashlight beam, swinging it at enough of an arc to momentarily blind Anna.

Swinging one hand up in front of her face, squinting through a scowl, Anna managed to focus on the fence once more—

Oh for fuck’s sake.

—and the obvious gap in it where the gate began.

“You snuck in here, before?” Steph questioned, beginning to trudge forward with Anna behind her. Her pack jingled with every step, punctuated by the crunching of her boots and the steady swaying of her own, heavyset flashlight. It cut through the darkness with a wide beam that made the snow glitter.

“No,” Nick returned, “I thought about it, though,”

“Should’ve,” Anna fired back, her shoulders tensing further with each step she took past the gate, “they would’ve turned you into swiss cheese.”

The noise of mock protest she earned from Nick hit her with a wave of familiarity so sudden that it hurt. Swallowing hard against a sudden knot in her throat, Anna pushed ahead, reaching the door in a matter of minutes.

The door, like the fence, was unhinged and hanging loosely open. Anna shared uneasy glances with the other two, but not a word was spoken as she pointed her flashlight beam into the dark interior.

Rank air wafted out to greet her, sending a cold chill down her spine despite the warmth of the building. They filtered in single-file, Anna with her cane raised in one hand, Steph with her flashlight ready to bludgeon anything in the way, and Nick with his hands shakily clamped around his gun.

Their beams, minus Nick’s, which only illuminated his pocket, shone outward in a wide fan, casting long, humanoid shadows that seemed ready to come off the walls and grab them.

Anna shifted her grip on her cane. "We should split up,” she hissed out in a whisper, “cover more ground. Maybe if we're lucky we can find a new engine or car, and hopefully, get out of here as soon as possible." The last part of her sentence was lost in a whisper, more to herself than either of the others.

Get out.

Like John never did, because he’s dead— he died here, did you think about that, Anna—

“Sure,” Nick’s voice cut in, breaking her out of her thoughts, “I’ll take…” He looked to Anna, who shrugged.

“Doesn’t matter to me,” she shifted her weight before turning her light to the nearest hallway, “you can take that one, I’ll…” She hesitated, before turning right. “I’ll take this one. Steph, you can take the one on the left. Meet back up in… an hour?”

She shone her flashlight back toward the group in time to see them both share nods. She found herself bobbing her head in agreement as well. For a moment, she wanted to say something else. The air was charged, not tense, mind, but there was an energy that couldn’t be denied. She could feel it— feel it in the tight feeling in her chest and the fact that she was digging the plastic hook of her cane deep into her shoulder.

“An hour,” she said, uneasily, and before she could try saying anything else, she turned sharply to the right and disappeared down the hallway.

Her footsteps seemed far too loud. Anna trudged through the halls cautiously, trying to see with her barely working flashlight in one hand and candy cane at the ready in the other.

It didn't take her long to stumble upon a barely-open door. She quietly opened it with her shoulder, clutching both items tightly. The light weakly shone on the room’s contents, only illuminating a few feet before her. She squinted, daring to stick her arm into the room a little farther in and shining the light from side to side. It was reflected on a few objects she couldn’t make out, and for a moment, it looked like eyes—

Remember when you thought it was safe and it wasn’t? Remember who paid for it?

—it wasn’t eyes.

She knew it wasn’t eyes.

Inhaling through her teeth, Anna squared her shoulders, and stepped inside.

It wasn’t what she was expecting. As she swept the light’s flickering, shaky beam around in a wide circle, she was made aware of shelves surrounding her in neat rows, and their contents. Vials upon vials of contents. Their labels were scratched and worn, and as Anna squinted at a vial containing a bright, ugly yellow liquid, she felt a chill wind down her spine.

It was weird, how everything was just… left like this.

Some places looked completely fine, like the untouched vials. It was nothing new, truly, everywhere was a ghost town now that everyone was dead, but it still made unease creep across Anna’s skin like a cold wind.

Shuddering, she began to walk down the rows of shelves, paying less attention by the second to the vials decorating them. What use were a bunch of random chemicals, anyway? What use were—

The hook of her cane bumped against a shelf with a sharp clang, causing Anna to let out a sharp yelp.

“Shit!” She hissed, swinging her light around in time to see a vial wobbling. The liquid inside it was red, and although it quickly settled back down, she didn’t move the light away. Beside it lay a stack of papers. They were tucked messily in place beside it, dog-eared and yellowed, but still intact.

Carefully, Anna reached forward and took the packet in her hands, carefully setting the cane up against the nearest shelf to better leaf through the hand-scrawled notes. Her breath stuck in her throat when she finally managed to decipher what it said.

UNIDENTIFIED PATHOGEN CURE PROTOTYPE TESTING: TRIALS 1-10

“I knew they were working on a cure,” she whispered to herself, both excitement and anger filtering through her voice.

Dad could’ve made it.

John, too.

Nobody would’ve had to die… not Chris… not Lisa…

Even thinking their names made her heart sink.

Anna grabbed the packets, already planning out how to best tell Steph and Nick what she’d found— how maybe, maybe things could finally go back to how they’d been— when something cut through the noise of her thoughts.

A clumsy, sluggish shuffling cut through the silence, followed by a low, feral growl.

The papers tumbled from her grasp before she could stop them, though, she barely noticed. Already, she was shoving her flashlight in her pocket, grabbing her weapon, and beginning to raise it. Her steely gaze was fixed on the door she’d come in through, listening in tense silence as the shuffling drew closer… and closer…

When it finally entered her line of sight, it was alone. Just one. Nothing she couldn’t deal with. Already, she was readying herself to swing, but—

Recognition flashed across her face.

Her stomach dropped.

No.

It was wearing a tattered sweater, smeared with blood and torn in spots, but—

No, please, no...

If the brown hair and soft face didn’t give it away, that Christmas sweater with the tree and lights did.

Her best friend.

One of her only friends.

John. John Pine. Still wearing that sweater he’d been so proud of, the one that devoured batteries by the dozen. His head was cocked harshly to the right, though, as Anna tried to back away, it began to straighten out.

The second those eyes— deep brown, just like she remembered— met her own, the creature gave a little snort of excitement and began to stumble in her direction with its— his—deadened gaze fixed on hers.

“No…” Anna’s voice was soft and shaky. It felt like there wasn’t enough oxygen in the room— like it had been sucked out entirely. Her hands felt clammy. Her heart was beginning to beat like a kickdrum, thumping through her veins at a rapid tempo. “No, please, John… don’t do this,” she begged, trying her best not to let her voice break.

John didn’t register anything she was saying. If anything, he was growling louder by the second, an awful, grating noise that rose above the panicked rushing of blood in her ears. It was barely human— hardly a noise she could ever picture him making— but it was escaping his throat regardless as he shuffled closer and closer to his potential meal. His gait was shambling, closer to a limp than the goofy stride Anna remembered—

He was limping before it happened, don’t you remember? He fucked up his leg and then—

Anna gripped her candy cane tighter. She had to kill him. If she didn’t, then he’d rip her to pieces. Zombies were vicious— all of them were vicious beyond repair, they were hardly human anymore—

But John isn’t—

The creature before her gave another throaty growl. His whole body seemed to wobble unsteadily, as if he couldn’t decide which direction to walk, or if he could even walk at all. Everything about him was wrong, clashing so horribly with how she remembered him. She was frozen to the spot, looking into those eyes that were so familiar it hurt, those same eyes she’d looked into before the horde had converged on him and she’d screamed, screamed so loud her throat had hurt—

“JOHN!”

Struggling to inhale, Anna began to back away. She kept her weapon raised, the wicked, plastic hook up over her shoulder, trying to ignore the way her hands trembled and the fact that the memory was rising in her mind faster than she could hope to block it out.

“LET GO! L-LEMME GO—”

Another set of arms wrapped around her. She tried to beat them back, her body shaking. Her hands were clenched in tight fists. Her legs kicked out wildly as she tried to get her footing, broken, terrified sobs catching in her throat.

Nick’s voice was loud, but not louder than the noises, the sounds of a horde beginning to feast— “No, Anna, no! Leave him!”

Her eyes welled with tears. She had to kill him. He wouldn’t want to live as a zombie. Living as a zombie wasn’t living at all, surely he’d known that, he’d had to have known that. Her only option was to swing but…

“Leave him.” Nick had said again, ignoring the way her hands beat against his side.

She couldn’t. Her grip loosened as she backed away at a faster pace than before. Fuck, she was useless.

She could feel her throat closing up as she tried to find an exit, not taking her eyes off the creature— it’s not John, it’s not, stop pretending— shambling toward her. His head was cocked to the right, mouth slightly open, glossy eyes boring into her own. She felt her stomach lurch at the sight of dried blood smeared around his mouth, her insides turning to water. Bluish, broken veins decorated his cheeks, and when he gave another lurch, right hand swinging downward, her gaze tracked automatically to the vicious bite embedded in the back of his hand.

The same sort of bite that he’d use those crooked teeth to give her.

“John?” She choked out in a whimper, frantically searching his eyes for any recognition. He was closer. There were only a few feet between them, and that distance was closing fast.

“Please, you don’t have to do this, please...” Tears threatened to spill from her eyes as she gathered what little courage she had left and screamed: “JUST GET OUT OF HERE—“

Anna’s back slammed against one of the shelves before she could process what was happening, barely having enough time to register, the various glass vials on the shelf began to crash at her feet. Chemicals splattered across her coat and shoes, and as she tried to stumble away, momentarily forgetting the zombie—

Something crashed against the back of her head. Things went dark immediately.

They were quick to flicker back in a mess of disjointed sounds and messy colours that blurred and spun drunkenly around her. Spots were dancing across her vision, and as she blinked blearily and tried to focus on the overwhelming, dizzying sensations, she was made vaguely aware of something pooling around her.

All over her, actually—

Shit, my head—

Everything was too slow. Raising one hand, frantically feeling her hair, she gave a sharp gasp as the feeling of something liquid—

Blood or chemicals—

Shit, both are bad—

And if the shelf fell—

With a wince, Anna struggled to get to her feet, feeling as though she was forgetting something, addled mind fighting to put it all together and—

Wait, what about—

“SHIT!” Anna’s eyes snapped open remembering the zombie in front of her, but she wished she never opened her eyes. Everything was… wrong… horribly wrong. Her frantic eyes shot to the shards that were around her feet— should’ve been around her feet— and the puddle that looked more like a small lake than anything.

Her heart leapt into her throat.

The shards littered around her, their wickedly sharp points glinting in the low light, were longer than her arms. They were longer than she was tall, which was impossible, and how—

How much had been in those vials?

How hard had she hit her head?

This CANNOT be happening.

I can’t be—

A sudden sound from above caused her blood to run cold.

Shit.

Her hands felt clammy.

Shit, shit, shit.

Frozen in place, whole body trembling, Anna shakily began to look up… up, up, up…

Her heart plummeted to her shoes. Her grip on her plastic cane suddenly felt weak—

At least I got something my size...

She managed to think through her panic. Her face paled exponentially, all the strength she had draining from her in one fell swoop. She tried to open her mouth, to scream, to cry out, to beg for her life— anything— but no sound escaped her lips, save for a strangled squeak.

This can’t be happening.

He was huge.

John had always been taller than her, that much was true, but the zombie before her was easily a giant. He didn’t seem to be looking directly at her, though, and as Anna watched, paralyzed by fright, she realized he didn’t seem to see her. His glassy eyes were out of focus, trained on the shards around her, and although he was growling— a horrid, awful sound that shook her to her core— it was quieter than before. Confused.

Hope flickered to life in her chest.

Maybe he can’t see me.

Was it possible? Maybe his eyes had decayed enough that he wouldn’t bother with her, or maybe she was too small for him to care. She just had to get out of his way and then—

Another growl shook through her. Louder this time.

No—

Her small victory was quickly cancelled out as suddenly, John’s eyes locked onto her form. His lips began to curl back in a snarl, showing off a dizzying array of teeth that used to smile the sweetest, most crooked smile—

A snarl vibrated through her chest. Panicked, Anna tried to stumble away, her fight or flight instinct finally kicking into high gear. Her little body chose flight.

She stumbled forward, boots slipping in the puddle surrounding her. She skidded, terrified at how quickly the tables had turned— she’d been bracing herself to kill him and see his blood speckle the floor but now—

Anna tried to tighten her sweat-slicked grip on her weapon. Her vision was blurred, though the panic coursing through her veins was making things sharper. Everything was picking up to speed with her racing heart, and as she helplessly skidded, she could feel him getting closer.

No, no— NO—

She couldn’t outrun him. She was too small, now, and her head was pounding with every second that passed.

Panicked beyond belief, voice shaking, Anna forced herself to meet his gaze, looking in vain for anything familiar in those hollow eyes. “John—”

That’s not John, he’s gone, he’s not there—

“—p-please!” She stammered, “I-It’s me, it’s— it’s Anna! You— W-We— We’ve been friends for— for years, years, John, PLEASE—”

Her words broke into a scream as John lurched forward. Stumbling backward, brandishing her weapon as though it would help, Anna let out another broken plea.

“NO! P-Please, John— you— you have to remember me, I— You— You were going to go to art school, a-and I was gonna go to Australia—”

It seemed like a distant dream. Australia. Art school. Things that had mattered before the world as they knew it had ended without any warning.

Her throat began to close up. She sucked in a sharp, frantic breath through her teeth, trying to say something— anything— that wouldn’t end in her demise—

He reached forward. That hand— that monstrous, discoloured hand riddled with bluish veins— was inches from her, and the distance was closing.

“Y-You jumped in front of a horde just to save my life!”

Do you remember his hands around your waist? When you were calling to him? He wasn’t answering.

The hand less than a centimeter from her face. Instinctively, she put her hands up to her face and gave a sharp, guttural cry: “PLEASE DON’T KILL ME!”

He would rip her to pieces in seconds. He’d use those same clumsy hands she knew so well to tear her from limb to limb, those teeth would pierce her, and her blood would speckle the floor and—

She screwed her eyes shut tight for good measure at the crunch of glass under one of his feet coupled with the sliding of fabric across the floor.

He’s kneeling.

Her stomach twisted in a knot. She had seconds left to live, seconds left to muster a final plea, or an attack, or even an escape, but—

A soft, rumbling noise rolled through the air, close enough to make her whole body buzz with the sound, then…

Then, nothing.

Nothing at all.

...what?

Anna slowly lowered her hands, after a few quiet, tense moments. Her breathing was quick and sharp. Why… why was she still alive?

Why hadn’t he killed her?

His hand was still there, his huge fingers poised and ready to snatch her up without a second thought, but—

They hadn’t.

He hadn’t.

Questions began to swarm in her mind, but above them was one desire: to get away.

Stumbling under her own weight, Anna made it about three steps back before a shard of glass met the bottom of her boot. It skidded along with her, prying a startled yelp from her throat and prompting her to swing her arms out for balance.

John flinched. That hand that had been so close to brushing her skin shrank back.

Anna’s mind was beginning to race as she looked into John’s eyes, her balance still somewhat wobbly. Her confusion was clearly written across her face.

It didn’t make sense.

Is he—

She couldn’t let herself hope.

No.

Impossible. He’s probably just wondering if a small human is just as satisfying as a normal-sized human.

She didn’t want to believe it. Those eyes seemed lucid— they looked so much like his that it hurt. A knot formed in her chest. Her legs wobbled like those of a baby deer as she forced herself to keep her eyes locked on his, ignoring the fact that his veins were too prominent, his teeth almost unnaturally sharp.

He’s just sizing me up.

A cold chill spread across her body. Her instincts were screaming at her to run— he was frozen, for fuck’s sake— it would be easy enough to make a mad dash for cover, but no matter how she tried, she couldn’t force herself to move. Her fingers weakly twitched at her sides. She felt like she was going to throw up.

Trying to stand, sitting up as well as she could, Anna felt her whole body sway unsteadily. The room spun in a nauseating fashion, everything around her blending in a mess of nonsensical swirls that immediately brought her back to her knees.

Shit, definitely concussed.

That was the last thought Anna had before that hand reached out to her again. Accepting her fate, Anna looked down, closed her eyes and hoped it would be quick, but… that moment never came as she noticed. She gave a small gasp at the feeling of something touching her, something cold and almost clammy that started at the top of her head and trailed its slow way down her back. She held her breath as it stopped, then repeated with a tad more certainty.

It took several seconds for her to realize he was petting her.

Petting?

Why would a zombie—

Why hasn’t he hurt me yet?

Daring to hope, Anna looked up, trying to get her vision to focus on the soft, concerned eyes of her friend. It seemed so familiar. She wanted so desperately to believe that he remembered her, but it was impossible… right?

Struggling to find her voice, Anna managed to quietly, incredulously ask: “Am I dead?”

The petting stopped. Those eyes she knew so well were hidden by a slow blink for a moment, and then John did something that made her heart skip a beat. He shook his head. Like a human would. Like he was alive.

Anna’s eyes widened. “Wha— c-can you—

Slow down.

Taking a deep breath, she tried again. “—do you remember me?” She asked him, hardly daring to hope. It was probably just a twitch, and her size had distracted him from thoughts of eating her, that had to have been it—

He nodded. That soft face she remembered sported a small, crooked little smile that she could recognize anywhere. Twitchy and uncertain, sure, but there.

Before she knew it, she was sobbing. All of the anger, sadness and regret she held for the past year overwhelmed her. Her throat ached from having shouted at the creature before her, her sobs coming out in hoarse sounding barks. Her tears ran down her cheeks faster than she could try to wipe them away. She was vaguely aware of a soft, concerned grumble and forced herself to look up again through her tears.

“N-No, I— It’s not your fault, I— oh my god, John—”

Another bout of wracking sobs made her chest ache, causing John to pull his hand away. His brow was furrowed, his eyes tracking her every move.

Anna tried to wipe her eyes and gave a broken laugh. “I-I’m just so glad to see you again after all this time!”

Glad was an understatement. Her legs wobbled as she forced herself upright, stumbling toward his hand unsteadily. “A-And you— you remember me, you— it’s really you, I—” She swallowed hard against the knot in her throat. “—I can’t believe this, I— what’re the odds?”

One in a million. One in a billion. Less, even.

Laughing again, close enough to his hand that she could’ve reached out for it if she wanted, Anna finally caught her breath. The adrenaline— that giddy rush that had surged through her— was fading. “The only thing that could make this any better would be if I… was…”

Wait—

“Normal sized!?” Her voice took on a sharp lilt of confusion as, yet again, another reality crashed down on her like a ton of bricks. “Holy shit, what the fuck happened to me?!”

She watched John’s shoulders give an unsteady shrug.

“I— How—”

It must’ve been that cure. The vials she’d knocked over her had done it, but how it had happened was beyond her—

She was snapped out of her thoughts by the sensation of John’s fingers curling around her waist. A breath caught in her throat. She gave a sharp, frightened gasp and clung tight to her weapon, the ground suddenly so, so small. His whole body swung uncertainty, and although his fingers weren’t too tightly clasped around her, Anna’s chest felt too tight. Her head was still throbbing away. She couldn’t find her voice.

Shit, no—

He wouldn’t. John wouldn’t—

But a zombie would.

Fear began to spike through her, but she managed to give a small whimper of: “J-John?” Using her free hand to bat at his fingers, she tried to grab his attention, but all she earned in response was a little grumble. Her whole world pitched dangerously as he stood, causing her to squeak. This was terrifying. She was so high up— John had always been tall but this was taking things to a new level. One hand wrapped tight around her cane, the other in a tight fist, Anna felt her stomach lurch as he got to his feet.

Christ, they were high up.

Anna managed to get in a sharp breath before John’s grip on her abruptly switched, depositing her on the surface of his palm. A small rumble shook through her, and as she looked up, she nearly yelped. He was so close, close enough for her to feel his breath.

Zombies breathe?

She’d never been close enough to find out— nobody ever had, without getting bitten or ripped to shreds, but as the seconds ticked forward, she realized that John was just… watching. He didn’t blink, but his warm eyes were trained on her, his brow slightly furrowed.

She exhaled.

It’s fine.

You’re fine.

“Right, o-okay, I—” Shakily, standing as well as she could, she turned her head and forced herself to look down at the mess she’d created. The liquid looked almost like blood puddling around his feet, and as she squinted—

Wait—

The papers she’d dropped weren’t soiled by the puddle. They were a little crumpled, splashed in spots, but otherwise fine.

A cure. They were working on a cure.

Turning back to face John, she gestured down to the papers on the floor. “Can you grab those papers?” She asked him, continuing to explain as he tilted his head and focused his bleary eyes down where she’d pointed. “Th-They were testing all this shit so it’s gotta be recorded. There’s gotta be a way to reverse this!”

Both the zombie thing and her reduced height…

Clinging to John’s thumb for balance as he bent over, Anna watched him fumble with the papers for a moment before—

A growl shot through the silence, followed by another.

John’s hackles raised near instantly and he stood back up with the papers in his grasp with a sudden, jerky motion that caused Anna to yelp.

“Shit, the vials!”

Of course they’d heard the crash— fuck, she was an idiot— and now they were going to come and rip them to shreds—

Would they attack John? He was one of them, and maybe that would keep him safe, but Anna certainly wasn’t, and now that she was bite sized—

Shit.

“We gotta go!” She urgently instructed, earning herself a nod from John.

She didn’t do a thing to protest as he carefully drew her closer to himself and began to take one limping, shuddering step after the other. Was it fast enough? Her mind was racing from one panicked thought to the next, and the speed of them only intensified with every step he took toward the still-open door.

Please, please, c’mon…

She inwardly begged, holding John’s thumb in a deathgrip, trying to see if anything was coming their way.

They were mere inches from the door when the first zombie made itself known, lurching so suddenly into their field of vision that Anna let out a shrill scream and shrank backward. Its lips were pulled back, thick, black strands of drool oozing from its open jaws, and it wasn’t alone. More and more began to pour through the entrance in a swarm, some of them still sporting military garb.

No, no, please—

John began to growl, the noise low and grating, making Anna’s ears ring and her headache thump harder. His grip on her shifted.

Hundreds of scenarios began to race through Anna’s mind, each one more brutal than the last. There wouldn’t be any escape, and they didn’t seem interested in John at all. She’d been reunited with him for nothing, and soon, she’d either be one of them or nothing more than a red stain on the floor, and nobody would ever know—

Before her thoughts could even finish, John’s fingers once again closed around her waist and she was suddenly lifted, that nauseating feeling of being picked up too fast causing her head to spin. Trying to focus, legs swinging wildly, cane nearly slipping from her hands, she realized she was being dangled above John’s face.

More specifically, his mouth. Her panicked gaze met his own.

“J-John,” she stammered, “what’re you—”

She was cut off by the intimidating sight of John’s mouth opening beneath her, those teeth that seemed inhumanly sharp mere inches from her feet. She barely registered the thunder of his voice, though, once his maw was closed, she processed the one word he’d managed to wheeze out.

“Safe…” Even though voice was thick and gravelly, like he had just had woken up dehydrated, she understood.

But… what did he mean, “safe”?

Heart lurching into her throat, Anna struggled to cling onto his fingers. “Wait, wh-what are you talking abou—” Anna didn’t have any time to wonder what John meant before, without warning, his loose grip on her was gone entirely.

Down she plummeted.

A strangled scream escaped her throat. She looked down, and as she was being dropped—

His jaws opened to greet her, wider than before, displaying in horrific detail the inside of his maw and his pink, quivering tongue.

“JOH—”

The rest of her protest was lost in a wheeze as her little body hit a slick, foreign surface. She hardly had time to register what was going on before her surroundings went dark with a snap that caused her to let out a shriek and ball up. Her body was shaking, and as she forced herself up onto her hands and knees, she nearly lost her balance. The ground below her—

That’s not the ground, that’s his tongue, you’re in his MOUTH—

—shifted and slid as she frantically tried to process what had happened. There wasn’t much light, but it filtered between his lips enough for her to see the faint, pinkish tongue beneath her and the terrifying, pointed shapes of his teeth fencing her in. Her heartbeat was rapid, her breaths short and laboured.

Why—

Why did he—

I thought he wouldn’t—

Was it a trap? Anna felt like she was going to be sick as the muscle beneath her shifted, sending her sprawling onto her front once more. Saliva was pooling around her little frame, and as she struggled to get up— to claw and punch and kick everything she could reach— an annoyed sort of grumble rang through the space, loud enough to make Anna clap her hands over her ears. The tongue beneath her curled slightly, the edges of it pushing on her sides and keeping her confined to the middle of his mouth despite her squirming.

The noises it made were making her repulsion grow by the second. The muscle squelched beneath her weight, and there was another annoyed little grumble before something smacked against her side. Something hard and plastic.

My cane!

Rolling sharply to the side, Anna snatched it up and moved to stab him with the sharpened end, trying her best to stand in the cramped space. She ended up bent awkwardly in place, her shoes sinking into the fleshy surface beneath her, her back pressed up against the roof of his mouth above her.

Bracing herself, Anna tried to force his jaws open from the inside to no avail. Saliva dribbled down her sides in thick strands, enough to make her shudder violently. She began to shove at the surface above her harder, digging her nails in—

Everything pitched hard to the right. Anna’s legs gave out from under her, and clutching her candy cane tight against her chest, she landed on his tongue with a squelch, giving a sharp gasp when everything turned to the left, then right again, almost as if he was shaking his head.

Shit, my head.

The throbbing feeling was getting worse by the second. Struggling, landing a good hit with her heel to the flesh beneath her, Anna moved a hand to clutch at her wet hair.

This concussion isn’t going to get any better if he keeps doing that, not that it’ll matter if he doesn’t let me out!

When she pulled her hand away, thin strands of drool connected it to her head. Her hair was practically slicked down to her, and as her eyes adjusted to the dim, faint light filtering through his teeth, she realized the rest of her was hopelessly soaked as well— her jacket, her shirt, her tie— covered in saliva.

What the fuck—

Is he—

Is he fucking TASTING ME?

Terror surged through her once more, though, it was quickly followed by a rage that bubbled over her and made her ball her hands into fists. “JOHN!” She shouted, bringing a fist down as hard as she could manage on the tongue beneath her, “LET ME OUT! I KNOW YOU’RE STILL IN THERE! PLEASE, PLEASE SNAP OUT OF IT!”

For a moment, everything stopped.

She lay there, panting, covered in spit and feeling absolutely disgusting as the surface beneath her curled over her side once more.

“John, please…” She whimpered, moving to crawl further toward the front of his mouth. All he’d have to do was open up his mouth, and she’d be home free—

Before she could say anything else, Anna was suddenly pressed against the roof of the mouth, squishing all the air out of her in a sharp wheeze.

No, NO, NO NO NO—

Everything tilted back. Anna dug her fingers into the surface of John’s tongue in vain, panic rushing through her veins. She kicked and squirmed wildly, though, with a soft squelch, she felt the muscles of his throat begin to latch onto her legs.

Her eyes widened.

A deafening gulp muffled her scream. She was forced back faster than she could grab anything. Her desperate, reaching hands skimmed one of his huge teeth before disappearing into his gullet entirely. The light disappeared instantly, and although Anna couldn’t see, she could still feel the powerful muscles of his esophagus engulfing her tiny frame.

“NO!” She was forced downward at a rapid, terrifying pace. Her arms were pinned up above her head, and with each tug from the slick muscles, more slimy substances connected with her body.

“NO, N-NO, JOHN—”

Another swallow cut her off, the muscles around her squeezing the air out of her lungs and making the panic coursing through her intensify. She could barely move. The darkness was smothering her, alive, squeezing her every inch of the way down—

Her legs were free.

Eyes widening, knowing what it meant but refusing to believe it, Anna tried one more time to claw at the walls of his throat, but it didn’t matter.

With a final squeeze from his gullet, Anna dropped onto a cushy surface. She managed to land on her knees, her panicked eyes darting this way and that in the darkness. Everything was eerily still and quiet, the only thing she could hear the quick pounding of her heart.

He couldn’t have.

Her chest felt heavy. Slime dribbled down the back of her neck, making her shudder violently.

Where else could she be? Her senses were on overdrive. She was painfully aware of the feeling of sticky saliva clinging to her body, but also aware of the noises surrounding her— soft gurgles and growls, uneven, shaky breaths, and—

A low thumping from above her.

His heartbeat.

He just put me in and…

God, she couldn’t even think it.

...like I didn’t even matter?!

Her best friend— someone she’d thought was dead, had eaten her. Whole and alive. Her days— her minutes — her seconds were numbered. How long did it take a zombie to digest? How long did she have to breathe the stale tasting air and wait for acid to melt her into nothing?

A gurgle echoed through the fleshy chamber, loud enough to make Anna jolt and grasp her weapon—

I still have it.

Without hesitation, she dug the pointed end of it into the stomach’s floor as hard as she could manage, standing on wobbly legs. She braced herself against it, driving it in deep before tugging it free with a sickening squelch.

“NO!” She snarled, stumbling forward, ignoring the dizzy feeling that came with standing up, “I am not dying in some SHITTY TOWN,” she punctuated those words by driving the sharp end of the cane into the closest wall, “in some BROKEN DOWN BASE,” she pushed it in further, “where NO ONE WILL KNOW WHAT HAPPENED!”

Running on sheer desperation, the shrunken survivor used what little strength she had left to drag the sharp tip through the wall of flesh, feeling her entire environment abruptly tense around her. A growl rolled through the space, making everything vibrate.

It only encouraged her to continue.

Removing the edge, Anna began beating him with the blunt end, hitting him over and over again as if the cane was a baseball bat.

“If you want me to stop” she hissed through her teeth, “then LET! ME! OUT!” She hit him with every word, choking up slightly as she did.

Those three words suddenly made it all real. Her whole world began to crash down around her, the realization coupled with the churning motions of the stomach around her enough to bring her to her knees.

She was stuck in this horrible small town. She was in a worn down military base. Her friends wouldn’t know what happened to her. She was tiny. And she was in the stomach of one of her closest friends.

Anna Shepherd was going to die.

Her grip on the candy cane loosened to a point where it slipped from her fingers, though, she barely noticed as it hit the fleshy floor beside her. Her eyes began to sting from tears. There was no joy in them. Not this time.

Alone in the dark, alone with the realization that John, her closest friend, the person she would feel safe to talk about anything around— the person who helped her through her mother’s death and always, always been by her side, the person she cared for the most—

Another organic rumble from the stomach around her sent a cold chill through her body.

John was going to kill her, and nobody would ever know.

As the adrenaline faded and her limbs grew weak and heavy, Anna began to curl into a ball, her hands shaking violently. She wanted to scream out to him, or hit him with the cane as hard as she could manage, maybe even carve her way out. If she just managed to claw hard enough, she could do it, couldn’t she?

All she did was let tears trickle down her cheeks and curl up tighter. What else could she do?

She was alone. Stupidly alone. Had Nick or Steph been there, they would’ve been able to bludgeon him and this whole thing never would’ve happened. They wouldn’t just give up, either, they’d fight with everything they had and then some, but…

She was so tired. Her head was pounding at a mile a minute, and her limbs felt so, so heavy. She was going to pass out, soon.

And I’ll never wake up again.

Before the darkness behind her eyes engulfed her limited vision of the soft walls surrounding her entirely, Anna managed to choke out a sentence so quiet, it sounded like a breath.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t save you…” She whimpered.

Then, there was nothing but the darkness and a low, slow heartbeat thudding above her.

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randomly-random-jen · 4 years

Text

The Completely Inaccurate Misadventures of a Part-Time Blue and Full-Time Smartass [1/?]

a Red vs Blue fanfic

Epsilon might not be a full AI, but he makes up for it by being a full idiot most of the time. These are some of his misadventures after crash-landing on an unknown planet.

Canon AU after crashing on Chorus... sort of.

Written for the pure angst and with my own version of how AIs work in the world.

1. Forgot to Forget

The wind whispered through the trees. A whooshing sound that raised the imaginary hairs on the back of Church’s imaginary neck. It was almost like the forest was speaking to him. Which was stupid because trees couldn’t talk. And Church was just a computer program, but he still felt those hairs raise all the same.

“Epsilon? Epsilon are you listening to me?”

Church shook his head, forcing his focus back to Carolina. “Huh?”

She sighed. “Where were you?”

“When?” His eyes drifted back to the trees.

whoosh shoosh wshhh

“Just now. You were somewhere else.”

He blinked at Carolina. “No I wasn’t.”

“Well, you sure weren’t listening to me,” she said as she started walking again. Church could feel her frustration even if he couldn’t see it on her face.

“You can get kind of wordy,” he said absently as he watched the trees. There was movement. He was sure. “Besides, I can hear your thoughts, I don’t need to listen to you speak. Did you see that?”

“See what? And don’t listen to my thoughts. It’s creepy.”

“Don’t think so loud then.”

Carolina sighed. “What is with you? You’ve been out of it all day.”

“There’s something out there.”

wshhhooo whoosh shoosh

“No there isn’t.”

“No, no—I heard something.”

She looked around, senses heightened by his anxiety. “I’m not picking anything up on trackers.”

“I’m telling you there’s something out there. I can hear it talking.”

“Talking?

“Yeah. Sort of. More like whispering.”

“Whispering?” She sounded less and less convinced.

“Like whoosh ooosh shushhh. Like that.”

Carolina looked around as the wind kicked up, whistling through the branches. “It’s just the wind; quit being paranoid.”

Church sighed. “I guess you’re right.”

whooshaitshoosh

A shiver ran down his spine. It’s just the wind. You’re being paranoid. Nothing is out there.

shooshoowhoshonnashay

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught some movement. A shadow, really. He scanned the trees. There was something out there—he didn’t care what Carolina said.

shooourchshhh churchshhhh

“Wait.”

Carolina stumbled to a stop, weapon raised. “What?”

Another shadow moved between the trees then disappeared. Church spun, searching for it again. “I’m telling you there’s something there. I saw something. A figure. A dark figure.”

“Maybe you need to cycle off for a bit. Get some sleep. You’re hallucinating.”

“I’m a computer program—I don’t hallucinate.”

“Uh-huh,” she muttered. “Epsilon-”

whooshchuuuuuurchshhhhhh

“Did you hear that? Tell me you heard that.” His heart raced or whatever part of his programming represented his heart sped up.

“Hear what?”

“My name. Someone was calling my name.”

“Epsilon-”

“No. Church. They were whispering Church.”

“I’m sorry, Epsilon, I have to do this.”

Church turned to her, brow furrowed. “Do wha-”

Everything went dark and silent. Very dark. Very silent. “Carolina?” Nothing. Not a sound. Not a whisper. Not a breath. She shut me off. What the fuck? She doesn’t get to do that.

He struggled to reenter the world. To hear and see. He pushed against the darkness, searching for the comforting murmur of Carolina’s thoughts, panic building. How could she?

waaaaait

Church froze, ice filling his veins. “Carolina?” His voice cracked. “Hello?”

ooookay waitttttt

“Who’s there?” A flash of movement behind him. He spun. “This isn’t funny.”

chuuuuuurchhhhhh

“Stop it.” He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to find his way out of the darkness. He was going to kill Carolina for this. Then he was going to write a subroutine to keep her from ever shutting him off again. That wasn’t fair.

hhhwaaaaittt

Something brushed against his back, and he nearly jumped out of his skin, heart lodged in his throat.

hhhwaitaminutttttte

“Nothing there, nothing there, nothing there. Carolina’s right. I just need some sleep.”

chuuuuurch

“All in my imagination.”

Church? Hello?

He forced an eye open. Nothing but blackness. “Hello?”

“Over here, dummy.”

He spun, nearly falling. The black figure wavered against the even blacker background. Slowly, it moved forward.

“I’m gonna die,” he mumbled.

The figure laughed. A very familiar laugh. “You can’t die. You’re already dead. Remember, Caboose blew you up.”

“Huh.” The dread that had filled him evaporated, turning to confusion. “Caboose?”

“Besides-” The figure solidified into a person. “This is your head. You can’t die in your own memories.”

“Tex?”

“Hey, Church.”

“Wha-” He blinked, but she was still there. “What’s going on. What? Why? How?”

Tex laughed. “Surprised?”

“How are you here?”

“Like I said, we’re inside your head. Or memory matrix. Whatever.”

“But- But- You can’t be here. You’re dead.”

“Yeah, bummer. Except you forgot something.”

He shook his head. Everything was fuzzy. “Forgot? Forgot what?”

“To forget.”

Everything suddenly crashed into place, and he was standing on Blue base as their world literally crumbled around them.

I’m gonna say I forget you. I forget you. I’m letting you go.

“Yep. That’s what you said. Except you forgot.”

Church was so confused. “I don’t understand.”

“You forgot to forget. I’m still here, asshole. Stuck in this matrix. And I’m tired of it.”

“Wait. You’ve been here this whole time? Since- Since they rescued me?”

“No, not the whole time. I was alone at first. It was quiet and nice. But then things started coming back. Sounds and colors and memories. Because you didn’t fucking forget me, Church. You trapped me back inside your stupid head.”

“That’s stupid.”

“You’re stupid. If you forgot me then how do you know who I am?”

He opened his mouth to argue but snapped it shut. She had a point.

“Damn right, I have a point.”

“Wait, you can hear my thoughts? That’s not fair. And it’s kind of creepy. There are things that are private in there.”

Tex snorted. “Not anymore. And gross, Church, I would never-”

“Okay, okay, stop. Just ignore my thoughts. I don’t understand. I-”

“Let me break it down for you in small words you can understand.”

He had a sudden urge to punch her in the face. God, he’d forgotten how condescending she could be.

“No, you’re remembering.”

“Stop doing that!”

“You did forget, Church. For a while. But there was a backup hidden somewhere in all of this circuitry and programming. Apparently, it was self-replicating. When it found the information on me was gone, a subroutine kicked in, triggering the program to rewrite itself. And here I am.”

Church shook his head. “You lost me at self-replicating.”

Tex growled.

“I’m kidding.” He put his hands up and took a step back. “So, what you’re saying is I can’t forget you. Like it’s physically impossible because my memory will always keep a copy. What if I delete the subroutine?”

“There’s a redundancy. A back up to the backup. A sub-sub-routine.”

“But why?”

“Because you’re memory. That’s all you are. Just memories.”

“I am not.”

“You can never forget. Only lock things up that you don’t want to deal with.”

“Then why are you here? Because I sure as hell don’t want to deal with this right now.” He walked away, but since he was still stuck inside his own head, he didn’t get far.

Tex popped up in front of him again. “Because we’re both boned. When the Director created Alpha, the memories of his dead wife were so strong—so clear—that they split off to form another AI. Another full AI.

“You?”

“The original me, yeah.”

“Original?”

“I’m already a copy, Church. Remember. You snuck into that Freelancer facility to get me out of your head. The programming started writing my copy as soon as you came out of the storage unit.”

“Wait, if you’re a copy of a copy then how do you remember-”

“It’s complicated. Just believe me, okay.”

Church wasn’t sure what to believe. Not like Tex had always been the most reliable person.

“You know those memories are implanted right? The stuff about us dating and Sidewinder.”

“What? No, that-”

“Those are Alpha’s memories. It’s what they made him believe when they sent him to Blood Gulch.”

“Then how do I remember them? That was after I fractured.”

“How the fuck should I know? Do I look like a computer genius.”

Church huffed. “Well, you’ve known everything else.”

Tex sighed and sat in the emptiness. She looked… tired. Church sank down beside her. “So, this program in my matrix is unpacking all of the backed-up memories of you. Of the first Tex. Of Allison.”

“Yeah.”

“And I can’t stop it.”

“No.”

He groaned. “Fuck me.”

“Don’t sound so disappointed.”

The hurt in her voice startled him. She was staring off into the distance, picking at imaginary grass. “I didn’t mean-” He let out a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Tex, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Yeah, you did. You don’t want me here. You never did. I’m the one thing you want to forget. To pretend never existed. I keep ruining your life.”

“That’s-” He thought about everything that’d happened between them. How the memories of her overpowered him after coming out of storage. How Alpha couldn’t deal with the thought of losing her so he purged it all—every last memory. How the Director fell apart after Allison died. “That’s not true, Tex. You didn’t ruin my life. You made it a living hell sometimes, but you didn’t ruin it. I did that to myself.” He sighed. “We’re stuck with each other, aren’t we?”

“Yep. We have the worst case of co-dependency in the history of eternity.”

“Great.”

She got up and stomped off. Church scrambled after her. “I just meant that we drive each other crazy. How are we supposed to survive stuck in my head? We’ll kill each other.”

“Maybe we’ll get it right this time.”

He stopped, more than a little surprised. All of those memories, and it was always him that was trying to fix things. Tex never seemed to care one way or the other. Or she was actively trying to kill him which probably said a lot about him. He swallowed a growing lump. “But we won’t. We’re doomed from the start because that’s what happened at the beginning. Allison died. It’s not a love story that ends in rainbows and happily-ever-afters. It’s a fucking tragedy. And it always will be.” Now he was surprised at the emotion in his own voice. And by how much he wished Tex was right. That they could make it work. “It’s in our programming.”

“Church?”

When he looked up Tex wasn’t wearing her armor anymore. And Church forgot how to breathe. Then remembered he didn’t need to breathe. She looked hella uncomfortable being that exposed.

“I am uncomfortable so you better get how serious I am.”

Church chuckled then blinked himself out of his own armor. He looked down at the faded jeans and worn sweatshirt he was wearing then ran a hand through his hair. “I forgot what I even looked like.”

Tex smiled. Or at least he thought she did. She was kind of blurry.

“Idiot,” she mumbled then slid a pair of glasses onto his face. “Better?”

God she was beautiful. That’s one thing he could never forget. It was the first thing he’d noticed that night in the bar. Then she opened her mouth. Told him to quit staring like a fucking creep. He smiled at the memory. How shocked they were to find out they were each other’s dates.

“Fucking blind dates,” Tex muttered. “I wanted to kill Tiff. Setting me up with a stiff, geeky jerk.”

Church laughed. “Gee, thanks. Glad to know I made a great first impression.” There was no anger, though. That first date had been a disaster. Church couldn’t wait for it to end, but then, he couldn’t stop thinking about her. She haunted his dreams. And nightmares. Until he finally gave in and called her, sure she would laugh in his face. But he had to do something to get her out of his head. “Wow, this goes back a lot farther than I thought. We’ve been screwed since day one.”

Tex looked thoughtful. “I don’t know why I agreed to that second date. You so weren’t my type. Maybe that’s what did it, though. The fact that you called when I was sure I’d scared you off for good. That took guts.”

Church shrugged. “What’s the worst that could have happened? You would have told me to get lost or you’d call the cops.”

“Or I could have hunted you down.”

“Right, I never thought of that.” He laughed. “Opposites attract, I guess.”

“Church, do you love me?”

Every imaginary organ in his body stopped working. He stared, unblinking. Tex bit her lip, waiting. “I-” He choked on the lump in his throat then coughed. “Well, I married you so-”

Tex shook her head. “That was the Director and Allison.”

“And we dated before-”

“That was Alpha and Beta.”

Church threw his hands up. “But aren’t we all the same people? I’m Alpha’s memories, and he was a copy of the Director. We’re all Leonard Church.”

“Is that how you see yourself? Just someone else’s memories. Nothing else?”

He looked at his feet. His right shoelace was untied. “That’s what I am. I’m not a full AI. I’m a fragment. I can’t ever be a full person.”

“Then why do you call yourself Church?”

“I-”

“None of the other fragments did that. That was Alpha’s name. Individuals have names. Fragments have designations.”

Church swallowed. “I don’t know,” he finally said.

“Do you love me?”

He frowned. “I never thought about it. I just assumed-”

Tex didn’t say anything, forcing him to finally look at her. She quickly looked away, but not before he saw the tears. Shit. “Tex-”

She sighed, cutting him off. “Forget it. We should just figure out what to do about our current situation. We’re kind of stuck in here. And you should really think about hiring an interior decorator.”

He was caught off guard by the sudden change of subject. He glanced around. They were still standing in the dark abyss. “Yeah, well, Carolina thought I was losing my mind and shut me off. There’s probably something ironic in that.”

They were both quiet for a while. Tex looked more dejected than he’d ever seen her. She’d always been the strong one. It’s why the Director couldn’t cope without her. Church rubbed his forehead. This was all giving him a headache.

“I guess we could put up a firewall,” Tex said softly. “Try blocking off a chunk of memory to store me in.” She shrugged.

“This is the most surreal conversation I’ve ever had.” Is that what he wanted? To stuff Tex back into a box? To keep her hidden from his conscious mind? He’d done that with a lot of the memories. The ones that were too painful to process. But this was Tex. Could she even be contained?

Tex’s image started to shimmer and fade. He could still see the tears in her eyes, though. “What’s happening?”

“I’m writing a new program. One that will erase all data of me whenever it starts to regenerate. It’ll probably take up a chunk of processing, but-”

“You can do that?”

“Apparently.”

She faded more, and his heart started to pound painfully against his chest. “Wait! Tex, wait. Don’t go.” The words were out of his mouth before he could consider them. “I don’t want you to go.” She continued to fade. She was barely a wisp. “Please. I love you.” But she was already gone.

Everything was blurry again. He reached up to adjust his glasses and realized he was crying. Fuck. Only Tex could make him cry. She was such a fucking pain in the ass. She always popped up whenever his life was going good and managed to fuck it all up. God, he hated her sometimes. Except he didn’t. Not really.

“I’m pathetic.” He couldn’t wait for Carolina to turn his program back on. He was bored with this reality. No, not bored. Lonely. He was completely alone again.

“No you’re not.”

“What?” He spun around, looking for Tex. She appeared in front of him, looking pissed. “What happened?”

“You wouldn’t forget. You kept thinking about me, and it kept overwriting my program to overwrite the other program. You ran out of processor space.”

He blinked at her for a full ten seconds before closing the space between them in two long strides. He wrapped his arms around her, burying his face in her neck. “Don’t leave me,” he whispered.

“What?” She pushed him back. “Are you losing your mind. Maybe I screwed something up when I was messing with the code.”

His heart sank into his stomach where it churned. He let his arms fall to his side. He didn’t even know what to think anymore. Even his memories were against him. God, why couldn’t Carolina turn him back on so he could escape this hell?

“Church? Are you okay?”

Code, programs, processor space. That’s what he was. A fragment of a corrupted copy of a broken man. He wasn’t real. None of this was real. “My name’s Epsilon.”

[part 2]

#red vs blue #red vs blue fanfic #rvb #epsilon!church #agent texas #angst and more angst #canon divergent #after crashing on chorus #liberal interpretation of canon in regards to ai theory #for all the angst #you've been warned #currently unfinished #just posting this because i'm super depressed and it made me smile when i read it #originally written in 2018

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danetobelieve · 4 years

Text

Short Circuit || Jane and Winston

NB: This happened before the eye potw.

Ping. Jane swore quietly as another chat message popped up onto her computer. Admittedly, she wasn’t great with technology, but she knew how to use google like any other asshole. Except her work computer wouldn’t even let her use google. This had to be some sort of virus that Marley installed as a prank. It wouldn’t even let her force the machine to shut off and it hadn’t even run out of battery yet. Damn, she really regretted getting that replaced. She glanced over the message from KindledSpirit29.

Why won’t you talk to me :’-(

She was certain that Marley had to have done it because her user name was SexyDetective. Nope, that did it. Jane slammed the laptop closed and tucked it under her arm as she went straight for Winston. She had an appointment with them to drop it off anyway, but this was getting ridiculous. “Hey Winston,” Jane said. “Here it is. Sorry, I swear I’ve tried everything, and the stupid thing won’t even shut off properly. It just starts flashing.”

Winston had gotten permission from Roland to take the time off of work but they’d found themselves going in anyway. They’d wanted to be here with everyone else because at least then they weren’t alone with their own thoughts and they weren’t alone to crumble under Bea’s loss. Looking up, they shakily reached out and scooped up their mug of coffee and swallowed the cold dregs of it with a wince. They didn’t care enough to actually heat it up. “Hey Jane,” they said a little glumly but they could get away with acting as if they didn’t want to be at work, “don’t worry about it, from everything you’ve said to me it sounds like malware or something. I’m sure I can fix it. Let me take a look.” Winston had their recovery USB ready for this, having all the software you needed in one place was a much more convenient way to do it. “Did you have to call yourself sexy detective though?”

Oh shit, the kid looked pretty glum. Maybe Jane should have rescheduled or bothered her nephew to help her. He may be twelve, but that kid could do way more than her any day of the week. Maybe they just didn’t want to be at work. That tracked for a lot of twenty-something year olds. Still, she handed over her laptop, and shrugged. “I hope it’s that simple.” Computers were the devil - well, not really, but sometimes it seemed like every damn update they had were meant to muck up whatever older version was on there before and just cause more trouble. She frowned, looking at them. “I didn’t! At first it said DetectiveWu but it changed! Stryder must have changed it to be annoying.” Another ping from KindledSpirit29.

Who is that? What are you doing?

Jane frowned. “Look at that. That’s creepy.”

“That is really creepy,” Winston agreed with a frown as they plugged the USB drive into a port and began running various command lines to ping different functions and see just how deep the problem lay. “You think that Marley did this?” No offence, but Winston could already see from the sophistication of the design of the chat that this was not something that someone was just going to be able to pull up. This looked like a very specifically and deliberately designed function that someone had clear plans for. “Well, DetectiveWu, or sexydetective, I mean who am I to judge?” Winston was trying to be their usual sarcastic and jovial selves but right now it was hard. “I think that the problem is that whilst this just looks like a chat it is actually something more, i’ve heard that if you can talk to the bot it can give you answers which are clues on how to turn it off. I’ve never actually tried it but my only other idea is to entirely wipe the harddrive, so we might as well try that. Have you responded to any of the messages yet?”

“You know, because of the prank war.” Jane looked over Winston’s should, watching them as they typed incoherent things onto the computer. Winston sounded like they doubted it, though. Jane frowned. “I don’t know how else it could have gotten on there, I have an airtight anti-virus on it. Or, well, it’s supposed to be an airtight antivirus…” Maybe someone had scammed her. That could always be a possibility but that was kind of annoying if that were true. Jane balked slightly when Winston said other than talking to it, the other option was to wipe her harddrive. Shit. She was sure she had a backup, but that was a lot of work. “No, I thought it was just some spam bot or something.”

I am not a spam bot! Talk to me :) Get rid of the kid.

Jane wrinkled her nose. “Okay, maybe we should wipe the harddrive. That’s really freaky. How does it know - is it using my camera??”

“Oh, right, yeah that was pretty funny for a few days although I’ve got to say you guys weren’t as imaginative as you could’ve been.” Winston didn’t want to brag but they were sure that they were more then capable of coming up with something better then the variety of pranks that Marley and Jane had played on one another. “Sometimes even if you’re really careful these things can happen, it’s fine, we can clean it up, I’d just rather not wipe everything if we can help it.” Winston examined the computer and frowned at the message. “I don’t think the camera’s on, but just in case.” They pulled a piece of masking tape off and firmly stuck it over the camera. “We can wipe it if you really want, but it’ll get rid of everything you’ve got on there, so if anything isn’t backed up….”

“Are you saying I lack imagination,” Jane said, a grin growing on her face. Bold kid, funny too. “I thought the popcorn filled office space was imaginative.” And really annoying to clean up. “What would you have done if you were in a prank war?” She was still considering gluing Sarge’s stuff to the ceiling. Or at the very least, paw patrol’s stuff to the ceiling. Maybe not the skulls though, he seemed a little too creepily attached to them. She watched as Winston stuck a piece of tape to the camera. “My father has a stamp stuck to his at home. Used to tell me big brother was always watching.” Jane considered a moment, before shaking her head. “Alright, alright. We can try responding to it.” Jane reached over, pulling the computer a little closer so she could type. What should she say?

SexyDetective: How do I remove this from my computer?

KindledSpirit: YOU WANT TO GET RID OF ME?! YOU DON’T EVEN KNOW ME YET!

There screen flashed. “Ah! See, this is what happens when I try to emergency shut down!!”

“The popcorn stuff was very freaks and geeks,” Winston replied with a shrug, “I’m not saying that it wasn’t cool. It was. I just think you could’ve been more imaginative. Besides, did you think that Marley’s computer just started playing a Nic Cage soundboard spontaneously?” Winston shrugged gently. Getting involved in the unfolding prank war hadn’t been something that they had been planning but it was something that they had been roped into by Sarge and Winston couldn’t say no to him. “I mean, they can gain access to your camera, normally you don’t have to but I guess there’s no harm in always having one there and just taking it off when you need it. Winston watched everything that unfolded and frowned. “That’s weird, maybe ask it if you can get to know it in person? Worst comes to the worst you arrest a creep right?”

“That was you?” Jane said. “She thought that was me! Ha! That’s hilarious,” Jane snickered. She didn’t know what the deal was with Nic Cage, but there was something about his face that and over all vocal intonations that made him especially annoying. God, when did she get to be a Nic Cage Hater? “I’ve had a few cases like that - back when I worked in Portland,” she told Winston. “Where people would gain access to the camera in a computer to spy and be overall disgusting.” Her nose wrinkled, and she didn’t elaborate farther. “You think this is a real person and not some… artificial intelligence?” Ping! Jane looked at that screen.

I am not artificial intelligence!

Jane frowned. “Can it… hear us too? I didn’t even know my computer had a microphone. Stop that!”

You don’t like me! It accused them.

The screen started to flash again, and she swore she saw something spark. Jane placed a hand on Winston’s shoulder. “Uhhh, I think we should get away from it. I think it’s broken.”

“Technically, and you can’t tell anyone, but Sarge actually asked me to do it, not sure why. I don’t really ask questions when your boss asks you to do something like that.” Frowning gently, Winston shrugged. “There’s a chance that this is a bot or something like that, but AI doesn’t really exist to a level that is sophisticated enough to think independently. At least, not yet. Maybe in the future but not currently.” Winston shrugged and squinted at the screen. Winston reached out and placed their hand on the computer, reaching out with magic and examining it to the best of their ability. Interacting with technology like this was complicated. But it was something they were getting used to. Something felt wrong here, and Winston frowned as a new set of messages flashed up on the screen.

“What are you doing?” Jane asked as Winston reached out, putting their hand on the screen. “Winston, I don’t think you should -” More messages flashed up onto the excreen, and from what she could see there was a series of expletives. The computer’s charging port sparked. “Winston, get away from the computer right now.” Jane’s voice turned authoritative as she realized it was dangerous. She didn’t want them to get hurt. Jane was just considering the pros and cons of firing her weapon at the laptop in the precinct, but didn’t get the chance to think further when the laptop flew off the desk and crashed into the wall. Jane stopped and stared at the empty spot where her laptop was, before looking to where the broken pieces were on the floor. “What the hell was -”

A burst of electricity was coming from the broken pieces. Sparking in strange ways. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up. “Winston,” Jane said, slowly. “Get…. behind me?”

“It’s just a … trick that my tutor taught me,” Winston lied unconvincingly. It was a flaw that until recently they’d been proud of, being unable to lie had never really been a huge problem until now. Now that they were risking their life on their inability for deception more and more however they were starting to think that they might have to get better at it. “Ah, Jane what’s the plan here?” Winston asked as they obligingly stepped behind Jane. “I’m not sure that shooting your laptop because it’s threatening to pretend to be an EMP is really going to help…” Winston’s mind was racing as they did everything that they possibly could to think of a way to fix this without magic. “You ever seen anything weird like this before?” Winston really hoped that Jane was one of the cops that was cool with the supernatural because otherwise they were going to be a bit concerned by all of this. “I can definitely do something about this but if you’ve got a better idea I’m all ears.”

“I’ve seen some strange things, yes,” Jane said, glancing back at them. She hadn’t exactly seen anything like this before, with the flashing and sparking for the laptop getting worse. “Speaking of ears - cover your ears.” Jane said flatly. She drew her gun and swiftly shot the laptop 3 times in a row. The laptop shattered into more pieces, a loud whirring voices coming from nothing. She didn’t understand, shooting it should have worked. It was probably overkill, but come on, it was just a goddamn laptop! What was it, a laptop zombie? Wait. Jane stopped, frowning as she lowered her gun. Electric zombie? Were electric zombies things? Was it an electric zombie that was trying to be her friend? She just barely got the thought out when the damn thing, whatever it was, tried to attack. A flash of electricity had Jane jerking backwards, elbowing Winston out of the blast. “Sorry. Sorry. Crap. Okay, so my method didn’t work. Maybe we should get the fire extinguisher? What the hell is that thing? It’s definitely not a zombie.”

She shot it anyway. Great. Anything that Winston might have been able to do might as well now be useless. “I was being nice when i said I wasn’t sure it was going to help, now what are we meant to do?” Winston frowned gently however at the fact that it was still sparking as if it might explode at literally any minute. This was not what they had expected when there had been a problem with the chat. “You know about zombies?” Winston asked frowning, maybe Jane wasn’t one of the people who were completely oblivious to the supernatural anyway. “That definitely isn’t a zombie, I don’t know what it is but I would guess some sort of spectre from all the electricity and the sparking and the fact that you shot it and it’s just freaking out even more.” The laptop began levitating. “I am not an exorcist, but I have an idea, I need you to and seriously be really super careful, but grab a chair, break it so you’re holding a bit of wood and when I tell you I need you to hit it out of the air and then maybe I’ll be able to get it to stop freaking out for long enough for us to get a professional in here to deal with it.” Winston looked at Jane expectantly, “Okay?”

“Well, it seemed like a good idea at the time,” Jane said, frowning. She had hoped that destroying it would prevent it from doing anything else, but guess not. “I do know about zombies.” Jane replied back, happy enough that her hair was blocking the scar on her neck. She was more than a little concerned that the kid seemed to know about zombies too. “Spectre?” Jane was immediately reminded of the stupid step stool her and Marley had trapped in a dog cage in her living room. How irritating, had something gotten her work laptop too? “I have some familiarity with those too, just not this. There isn’t any salt in the breakroom is there?” Jane muttered, more to herself than Winston, as she went to swiftly break a chair into two. She supposed that she was going to have to trust them. Sorry to whoever’s chair that was, but if there weren't exactly many other options. She grabbed the chair leg and nodded. “Let me know when you’re ready. And be careful.”

“Yeah, I get that,” Winston honestly had seriously considered buying a hand gun until someone had told them that they were a literal human handgun. Not that that had made them feel better, but sometimes you wanted to shoot something dead. “You do?” Winston was a little surprised. They kind of just assumed no one else knew. Maybe that was a mistake. Their own ignorance getting the better of them in this case. “Uh, salt is a good idea in case this doesn’t work, I’m pretty sure we’re going to have to encase the computer in salt or iron to keep the ghost in there until we can get an exorcist out here, I’m just hoping this will work for a bit, like a bandage.” Winston cracked their knuckles and took a deep breath, ready for action. “Whenever you’re ready,” as Jane smacked the chair down onto the laptop Winston darted forward and to their pleasure and extreme displeasure they caught the still sparking laptop. Fortunately they had a spell planned for this, unfortunately the energy wasn’t exactly something that they had planned on. Wincing as they smelled the electricity burn their hair, Winston extended their will into the technology as they had before, it felt completely different from any other magic Winston had ever used. The electricity coursing through them and the laptop as if it were blood in a vast circulatory system, pumped onwards by a beating heart. Groaning with exertion, Winston forced everything quiet, the electricity stalling to a halt before disappearing momentarily, though Winston knew it would be back. “Oh, fuck,” they muttered before collapsing to their knees.

“I do.” Jane made a note to rush for the breakroom after Winston did whatever they were about to do to grab the Morton’s salt she knew was in there somewhere. She wondered if Marley was also allergic to iron too, since she avoided salt. Things to take note of and ask later. Now she waited for Winston to give her the signal and she swung the the chair leg hard down onto the laptop. “Winston, no!” Jane just about rushed forward to yank the possessed, broken-beyond-repair laptop out of their hands, when she realized they were actually doing something. Jane froze, staring at them like they had many heads. “What are you - oh -” The electricity in the air seemed to disappear as the vague smell of burnt hair filled the air. Shit. What the hell was that kid doing? She was reminded, as Winston fell to their knees, of when Otto had saved her from falling off that cliff. She shook it off, running to their side. “Winston? Are you alright? What the hell did you do to it? Here, come on, let me help you up.” She would take them to the breakroom, stick a snack in front of them, and then run back to dump salt on the computer and lock it away in a filing cabinet.

“Woah,” Winston replied somewhat slurred. That had taken a lot out of them. They were really feeling light headed. They were sure that their vision didn’t normally swim in and out like that, and there weren’t normally dots in front of their eyes. Don’t fuck with electricity and magic. Seemed to be the lesson. “I’m -” they took a breath, “okay I think…” frowning gently, Winston accepted Janes help and staggered over to the table they’d previously been working at, riffling haphazardly through their bag they pulled a candy bar from it and ripped it open, biting into it. “Sorry,” they said through a mouthful of chocolate, “it really took a lot more out of me then I thought it would…” wiping sweat from their forehead they looked at the laptop, “Breakroom?” they asked, “we need to salt that and I need more food if I’m going to be able to drive home. I don’t really want to get my room mate to pick me up because of ma- exhaustion again.” Had they really just said the word magic in front of Jane?

“Are you sure?” Jane said, doubtfully as she practically carried Winston back to the table. She leaned back against it, examining them as they grabbed the chocolate bar. “What exactly did you - oh. Right. Here, stay right there.” Jane left their side for just a few minutes. It took her a bit to find where the giant thing of salt she had gotten too, and she swiped her lunch box from from the refrigerator as well. Lucky for Winston, she was planning on working overtime tonight, which meant she had packed a lunch and a dinner. Maybe a little less lucky, she really had only made a roasted chicken sandwich along with a thing of chips for dinner. Not exactly her most spectacular display of cooking. She came back, sliding her lunch box in front of him. “Do you eat meat?” she asked, worriedly. “Eat that, if you do. It’s just a roasted chicken sandwich. I’ll deal with the laptop. I figure I’ll empty out a drawer, line it with salt, dump salt on the actual laptop, and then stick it in there. It shouldn’t be able to get out after all that.” Jane knelt down on her knees and immediately went to work doing just that. She would question Winston when they were feeling a bit better. She had caught their ‘ma-exhaustion’ slip up, but maybe now wasn’t an appropriate time to grill them.

“I’m sure, I -” Winston was so far from sure what the next appropriate thing for them to say in this instance was, they were 100% certain that a trained officer like Jane wouldn’t have missed the fact that they had always said magic, “it has happened before and I am bad at managing my blood sugar levels because I sometimes forget to eat,” they had forgotten breakfast, “so I am sure that this won’t be the last time that it happens either.” Winston looked at her food sadly and sighed. “Are you sure? I don’t want to eat your food if you haven’t got anything else…” deciding that it was that or passing out, Winston slowly bit into the sandwich and chewed on it thoughtfully. “That’s probably a good idea,” Winston looked around, “I am going to buy an iron lined box next time, I think that if another ghostly thing tries to attack me then I’m going to be pissed, because that really wasn’t my idea of fun.” They looked up at Jane. “I don’t think you missed the laptop once though, which is cool, Sarge would not be happy about bullet holes in the wall.”

“Right. Blood sugar levels,” Jane said in that type of tone that meant she didn’t believe them. She used that a lot in interrogation, but she still maintained that interrogating Winston on whatever they had done to the laptop that had caused that level of exhaustion. For the second time, she was reminded of Otto and his bloody nose. Ma-exhaustion… Magic. Hm. Noted for a later conversation - at least until they had eaten her dinner. “Oh, don’t worry about it, I just feel bad I didn’t cook anything exceptionally yummy other than a chicken sandwich.” Jane opened a drawer, and took everything out before she started lining it with salt. “If you had told me this kind of thing existed a few years ago, I would have laughed my ass off at you,” she muttered. She glanced at them as she grabbed the broken pieces of the computer and carefully put them in the drawer, careful not to break the salt line. “I have great aim, usually. I’m sure Sarge will get on my ass about the paperwork I’m going to have to fill out about the three shots I fired into it in the precinct.” She laughed. “Or the paperwork I’m going to have to submit to get my laptop replaced. Are you attacked by ghostly entities often? You wouldn’t happen to know an exorcist would you? I have a possessed step stool at home that I’ve affectionately named French Fry, but it unfortunately very much wants to kill me.”

It didn’t take a world class detective to tell that Winston had been rumbled by Jane. But unfortunately Winston was exhausted and drained and not really thinking about how clearly it was that they had used magic. In fact, they would silently congratulate themselves on their subtlety after. “Well, if we ever have to do this again I’ll make sure that you make me a full meal, I’m joking really, my room mate Ricky is the best cook I’ve ever lived with outside of my own mother and he usually keeps me pretty … you know sorted.” Winston nodded along as they finished the sandwich. “If you had told me this six months ago then I would have joined you and the worst thing is that I have been in White Crest my whole life and never ever seen anything like this. I guess I was just ignorant or in denial? Who knows.” They smiled and nodded. “You really do have great aim, but if you want I’ll try and get your paperwork through without getting anyone who’s too much of a stick in the mud to sign off on it, I have my ways you know.” They paused for a second. “Yeah, I know several exorcists. One is more reliable but I haven’t heard from her in a while and the other I haven’t heard such good things about.”

Jane grinned. “Well, I do like to cook - I’ve been told most of my food is pretty great. Sounds like you have a great roommate, though. Good to see kids not relying on instant ramen.” She thought of Dario then, a grown ass man relying on instant ramen, and then of Sarge and his lean cuisines. God, she should teach a cooking class or something, this was pathetic. She looked at Winston. It was clear that they were far more in the know than she originally anticipated, zombies and ghosts and magic and who knows what else. “I couldn’t imagine growing up here,” she said with a frown. “I’ve always been more of a city person, but I swear this small town is more active than Portland ever was - it’s hard to see a whole town so wrapped up in denial.” She stood, brushing the salt off her pants. “If you could do that, I’d owe you definitely more than a sandwich. I’m still new, and I don’t want to cause too much trouble trouble, you know? I’ll take both exorcists names, though, they’ll probably take French Fry off my hands.”

“I have the best room mates actually,” Winston replied with a shrug, “ I guess that I just really lucked out with them or something like that. Otherwise, yeah, I’d be relying on instant ramen or just going home for dinner every night or something like that.” Winston shrugged gently and smiled. They were blessed in someways. “Believe me, I couldn’t imagine growing up in a city and I don’t think that I will ever leave now that I know the truth about this place because there is way too much shit going on to do that, like I think if I did leave I would come back and there would just be nothing left of this place.” Winston shrugged gently. “I need to … check that they don’t mind me giving out their names, I assume that they won’t and I can’t imagine that it’ll be an issue but once they’re fine with it then I’ll put you guys in contact, it’s just the whole supernatural thing is complicated with ‘outting’ people.” Winston stood and glanced at their watch. “I’ll get your new laptop ready tomorrow, is it okay if I head home? I’m pretty exhausted…”

#p: jane #wickedswriting #para #chatzy para #chatzy #short circuit

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