#its like a 'battle jacket' with a top gun patch

[anotherpapercut]

also you should be embarrassed if you've never even bothered to look at your local librarys website let alone use one

#i want everyone to know that this says your public library. if you dont have a public library this post has nothing to do with you #anyway like if u cant even google your library to see if they have books you want like holy shit #so funny to me how people will be like haha im a leftist commie anarchist i love chaos lol #then they don't do anything at all to support or participate in their community and public services #and also condescend drug users and shit #its like a 'battle jacket' with a top gun patch

[mctherofdragons]

Born to Die | F.W.

Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader 

Warnings: ANGST/SMUT 18+ only, major character death, toxic relationship dynamic, tattoos, gang activity, motorcycles, domination/submission, daddy kink, possessiveness, praise kink, choking, smoking, drug mention, alludes to criminal activity, blood/wounds/violence, hurt/comfort, police, arrest, gun violence, su*cide by cop. 

Based on: Sons of Anarchy; Lana Del Rey’s Ride and Born to Die music videos 

AN: PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS! I’m not going to argue about this being ~toxic because I know it is. It’s heavily influenced by Jax and Tara’s dynamic in Sons of Anarchy. It’s also a work of complete fiction and honestly, who doesn’t love a bad boy? I know I do. Thank you to Mya (@wandsandwheezes) and Lanie (@gcdric) for encouraging me to write this! Note about biker subculture: “old lady” is a term of endearment for a wife/girlfriend. If a biker refers to a girl as his “old lady”, this is actually a warning sign to other men to back off. Reader would want Fred to refer to her as such. ​

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

”He’s not good for you,” your mother’s voice echoed as you tossed everything you owned in a duffle bag. “He’s a criminal, y/n.” 

”I don’t care. I love him.” 

With that, you had left everything behind to be with Fred Weasley. He was a boy from the wrong side of town who you had met while tending bar to make ends meet. You had always been a good girl. Sure, your family had no money, but you were a hard worker. In fact, you had began studying to become a nurse - paid for with grants and academic scholarships. All of your dreams faded away when Fred walked into your life. 

Everything about Fred Weasley was stunning. He stood over six feet, broad shoulders clad in leather and tattoos, with a dangerous light behind his eyes. He had scars tattering his soft, pale skin. On his face, freckles danced beneath his eyes light a night sky, and you were enamored with discovering the constellations. He was tough, but soft with you. He wore his long hair gelled back,  adding to his bad boy persona. Fred was the most beautiful man you had ever seen - both inside and out. 

 He had come in one night close to closing, sitting down and whistling at you.  His brown eyes twinkled at you as he ordered a straight whiskey, flirting with you as he drank. “You’re far too pretty to be workin’ here all alone. Girls like you can fall prey easily.”

You had heard about men like him. They would roll up together occasionally, the backs of their leather jackets or vests donning the same symbolic patch. Outlaw motorcycle clubs with all of their criminal enterprising, violence, and danger had been something you would normally have avoided at all costs. However, Fred nearly radiated heat as he sat before you, pushing a tattoo and ring covered hand through his hair. He puffed on his second cigarette of the night, gazing at you in a way that made you want to abandon your good girl ambitions.

“You wanna go for a ride, sweet thing?”

After your shift had ended, you climbed on the back of Fred’s Harley, holding on tight to his waist as he sped down the road. That night he could have taken you anywhere. Even Hell would have been a welcome destination when Fred finally parked outside of a garage, pulling you inside. You were leaned against a different motorcycle with his hands exploring every inch of you. His hand slowly slipped around your throat, the cold of his rings pressing gently into your supple skin. At that moment, you had fallen entranced under Fred Weasley’s spell, unable to ever think about the life you knew before. 

Fred Weasley had bewitched you. Even with the danger that lurked behind every moment with you, the addiction to him had pulled you beneath the waves. It was a dark, deep ocean but you were content to continue being pulled deeper and deeper into the depth. You were his girl. That’s all you ever wanted to be - for eternity. 

+++++++++++++++++

Eventually, you had moved into Fred’s house. It was, like everything else about the man’s persona, not the safest place to be. At night, you’d hear gunshots rattling down the street. More than once, you laid awake, watching Fred in the moonlight, holding his own gun in his hand. You knew better than to ask questions about how the gang made its money. Fred often managed to shut you up with diamonds or kisses, pushing any questions you had to the back of your mind. 

One night, you had been laying on Fred’s chest. You were tracing the lion tattoo on the right side of his chest, your fingers dancing over the cat’s dark mane. “I’m scared for you, Freddie.” 

You gasped slightly as he pulled your hair behind your shoulder, pressing the pad of his pointer finger behind your ear. There you had gotten a small, but meaningful tattoo. The letter ‘F’ was sunk into your skin, marking you permanently as his. Fred was possessive over you. He kept you safe from the other members with a proprietary aura. Fred moved to attach a soft kiss to the tattoo, his warm breath tickling against your earlobe. 

“You know I’ll keep you safe, right, babygirl?” 

“Of course.” 

He slid his hand down your body, strong and calloused hands brushing against the skin of your side. He trailed a finger along the lace of your panties, slowly and painfully running the tip of his pointer finger along your slit. He moved the black material to the side, coasting two of his long fingers into you. He rubbed soft circles on your hood, causing you to gasp slightly. 

“Do you belong to me? Who do you belong to? If someone asks, who do you belong to?” 

He would occasionally beg for confirmation from you. “Fred Weasley,” you breathed, back arching as he attached his open mouth to your neck, sucking a mark into your skin. “Fred Weasley.” 

He fingered you fast, loving the way your wetness coated his fingers. He pulled them out, shoving them into your mouth with a small grin. You gazed into his eyes as you licked them clean, batting your long, mascara coated eyelashes at him. 

“That’s my bitch.” 

You melted at his words, spreading your legs wider and allowing him to climb on top of you. You dug your fingernails into his back as he moved rhythmically inside of you, making tiny scratches along with the tattoos on his shoulders. His rings pressed hard into your skin as he propped your legs up, keeping his eyes burning into yours. 

+++++++++++++++++

You were waiting up one night for Fred, sitting in nothing but his leather vest, donned with the club’s patch on the back. The patch itself had to be earned, and membership in the club was lifelong. The only way out of the club itself was death, and Fred knew that very well. He had another patch on the front breast of his vest - Man of Mayhem - meaning he had undertaken several high-risk tasks for the crew. 

He didn’t tell you much about these tasks, and you didn’t ask questions as you would stand at the sink, scrubbing blood from his shirts. He was gone late again tonight and you had missed him, pulling the vest on since he had worn his jacket instead. You heard the door ratted open. Fred stood before you, cigarette hanging from his ruddy, pink lips. He took a long drag, blowing the smoke up into the air. 

“You like?” You asked, standing up. Your lips curled into a mischievous grin and you ran off toward the bedroom, but he caught you by your arm. He had you pinned against the wall. He smelled like alcohol, cigarettes, and motorcycle exhaust. It was then that you noticed Fred’s lip was busted open, a bit of blood dried over the cut on the top. It was swollen and bruised. His cheek, on the other hand, also had a large blue and yellow bruise forming beneath his eye socket. 

“Take it off.” 

You plucked the smoke from his mouth, pulling it between your own lips for a drag. “Why?” 

He grabbed the cigarette back and stomped it out under his boot. He latched his hands onto the leather of the vest and pulled it off of you, tossing it onto a nearby table. “No one fucking wears that patch besides members. Do you fucking understand that?” 

You had recoiled a bit, leaning away from him. He caught your face gently in his hands, planting a soft kiss on your lips. You sighed, suddenly melting back into his touch. Fred was holding your face tightly as he kissed you. You could feel the rugged cut on his lip against your own. You wished somewhere deep down the kiss itself was magic - able to heal him. His tongue danced along your lower lip before you granted him entry. You had almost forgotten you were completely naked while he was clothed, once again causing you to find your rightful place as his plaything. 

“I’m trying to protect you.” 

“I know, I’m sorry.” 

He stood back for a second, taking in the sight of you naked before him. You giggled loudly as he hoisted you up, tossing you over his shoulder. He brought a hand up to smack your bare ass, a loud crack breaking the silence of the house. When he finally got to the bedroom, he tossed you onto the mattress and you bounced. 

You propped your head upon your hand as he stripped, muscles flexing as he pulled his tee-shirt off. He laid down on the bed and you ran your hands along his bare chest. You were kissing fast and furiously, tongues battling for dominance. He had slid his hand between your legs, rubbing his fingers gently against your sensitive flower. He spat into his hand, bringing it back down to moisten you even more. Fred had an artistic way of touching you as if each point of pressure on your body was something he craved to explore. You were panting loudly, tiny feminine gasps rolling off your tongue. 

“You wanna ride me, princess?” You nodded, moving to place your knees on either side of his hips. Placing your hand around Fred’s shaft, you guided his length into you. You lowered yourself slowly onto him and tossed your head toward the ceiling, feeling your hair fall against the bare skin of your back. The way he filled you up was sinful yet otherworldly. Gently, you gyrated your hips in circles, getting comfortable. Fred placed his hands on your hips, urging you to begin bouncing. It was moments like this that had made Fred claim you as his ‘old lady’ - biker slang for a girl that belonged to him and only him. It was a predatorial move, urging the other men in the MC to back off, lest they deal with his wrath. It made you feel chosen, valued, and deeply cherished. 

Fred locked his eyes onto yours as you ran your hands up and down his chest. He caught your lips for a kiss, pushing his hands up into the tangles of your hair. As you panted, he spoke softly into your shoulder. “I need...I need your help with something. Are you gonna b-be my good girl?”

You continued to bounce on him, staring deeply into his eyes. “Anything for you, daddy.” 

He helped you off of him, moving swiftly to pin you beneath him. He slammed into you again, pinning your hands above your head. You moaned, letting him attach his lips around your nipple. He bit softly before sucking. He lifted your legs to rest on his shoulders, moving quicker and quicker. 

“Would you do anything for me, baby? Would you?” “Yes! Yes, daddy,” you moaned. Fred could feel your walls tightening around him, which signaled him to wrap his hand around your throat. The feeling of his rings on your skin and the loss of control sent you into your ecstasy, crying his name out loudly. He came next, pulling out to cum on your stomach. You watched, stars in your eyes, as he reached next to the bed to grab his tee shirt and wipe you up. +++++++++++++++++++++++++++

You held the gun in your hand still, shaking as you watched the person in front of you fall to the floor. “C’mon,” Fred said, wrapping his hand around your wrist. You ran along with him, shaking from your fingers to toes. 

“Is-Is...did I kill her?” 

Fred handed you a small, white pill and you took it without question. “It’ll calm you down. C’mon,” he said, starting up his bike. You crawled onto the back, wrapping your arms around his waist. Fred’s shirt was still soaked in blood. You had been his ruse to get into the house, and then he had urged you to shoot. 

He had shot too, leaving the living room full of the corpses of a rival club. As Fred sped, coasting nearly one hundred miles per hour, you saw flashes of red and blue light up in the rearview. Fred was content to rev his engine, but another cop car pulled out in front, causing his wheels to come to a screeching stop. 

Four sets of officers stood behind their doors, crouching, guns drawn. “Get off,” Fred whispered and you listened, hands up in surrender. A male cop immediately grabbed you, locking the handcuffs around your wrist. You were bent over the hood of the cop car, waiting for Fred to make his move. 

“Weasley, put your hands up and drop your weapon.” 

Fred slowly got off of his bike, hands up. He looked you dead in the eyes, saying words you had never heard him speak out loud before. “Remember, I’ve always loved you, baby. I’m not letting them take me.” 

With that, he moved his hand down to his waistband, going for his gun. Before he could get it, a shower of bullets rang out from all angles, bursting through the leather of his jacket and into his torso and head. You screamed, fighting against your cuffs as two male officers held you back. Fred Weasley had gone out the same way he had always wanted - in a blaze of glory. 

“Freddie!” You screamed echoed in the quiet desert night, staring at the blood pooling into the California sand. “Freddie!” 

Fred’s eyes were still open, blood leaking from his mouth. The light behind them was gone, his pupils only illuminated by swirls of red and blue from the sirens. You continued to scream as you were pushed, head down, into the back of a police car. 

The police officer began to read your rights. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you. Do you understand the rights I have just read to you? With these rights in mind, do you wish to speak to me?” 

“Fuck you,” you cussed, as one final send off to the man you loved. 

#fred weasley x reader #fred weasley smut #fred weasley angst #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley imagine

[thesleepycrypto]

The Enemy Crypto

Apex Legends short story

Mirage x Crypto (Cryptage)

Warnings: violence, graphic descriptions

Matches were usually long and boring and especially repetitive when you’ve been around long enough to call yourself a veteran. It was usually the same, land get guns and fight and eventually die or live long enough to see yourself become a champion. It was never anything new. Nothing to exciting except when you become kill leader.

It was just the start of the match however, sort of. Round 2 to be exact. And it was quiet. Squads must be looting. Mirage and his squad were doing just that at that exact moment. They were all planning to move towards fragment after leaving Harvester. There’s bound to be some good loot there, especially after hearing all those gunshots. Unfortunately for mirage, he was stuck with some pretty aggressive companions: Wraith and Bangalore. Both were becoming pretty antsy, the bloodthirsty desire for kills beginning to take a hold of them. As much as mirage wanted to stay and loot the rest of Harvester, because there were some spots left unchecked, he couldn’t argue with the two bloodthirsty battle angels.

“Alright ladies, have it your way”. With that, the trickster hesitantly followed. He’d like a few kills himself, he was honestly shocked he didn’t feel to aggressive. Well, he was the laid back type, just kinda went with the flow. He was better at stealing kills honestly, he could sneak a few off of Bangalore whenever she decided to pop smokes. The trip to Fragment, also known as the city, wasn’t to bad. Wraith didn’t spit out any warnings suddenly which meant no one was around. Good. Hopping over some large walls, the finally entered the dangerous territory where most bloodbaths occur. Everyone looking to pick off easy players without guns, then ending up dying themselves. If you survived, you were pretty good.

The sight was already gruesome, death boxes scattered about of all different colors. Blue, purple, grey, gold. Even a red, with undoubtedly a vault key inside. There’s no way that poor bastard could’ve gotten a red Evo that quickly. The squad split up momentarily to check different boxes, snagging anything they needed before moving to the next one.

“Jesus, we certainly missed a party” mirage quipped, picking up a few syringes and a good bit of ammo, even a med kit.

“Saddle up, we gotta move. Rings close, got time but we should get there” Bangalore spoke out through the coms, just letting everyone know. “Copy that” wraith responded. Honestly mirage was to preoccupied with his own loot to notice, still picking off small things he needed, like gun attachments for his 301. However he finally looked up from a golden death box and watched as the two females began to walk away.

“Oh- uh- yeah! I’ll uh- I’ll catch up in a bit you just got one ahead. I can handle myself for a bit” the trickster muttered out but the other two didn’t seem to care at all as they just kept moving on without him. Mirage didn’t expect any answer, as usual. The man just sighed to himself and moved on over to a new area, that area by the train station where the train always stopped. He found himself near the busted up building hanging out by the giant lava patch that anyone could easily fall into if they miss-stepped, kneeling down and opening another gold death box. He was pretty lucky enough to find an anvil receiver, taking in and attaching it to his 301.

Satisfied, the man stood up to leave. But something suddenly caught his ear. Mirages body instantly froze, whipping out his gun and turning around, facing the source of the noise. It had sounded like a groan... a very soft groan. Enemies. Possibly. But mirage wasn’t so sure, but he’d definitely remain at the ready. He was dumb enough to stay behind, but there was no point in turning back now. He decided not to ping, this seemed a little to odd to him. He wanted to check it out on his own.

And it may be a good thing he decided to.

Mirage slowly stepped out of the building he was in, staring at the rock where the sound had seemed to produce from. From behind it that is. His steps may be able to be heard, but he didn’t care. Another groan sounded, but it sounded softer, more alert and distress, like the person knew he was coming, knew he was here. Mirage tensed and moved a little quicker, he didn’t want whoever was behind that rock to get away. He suddenly moved and slid over the rock, landing directly in front of the source of the sound.

What he saw next had mirage frozen in... shock?

“...kid?”

Crypto... propped up against the rock, one hand covering what appeared to be a pretty gruesome sized bullet hole in his abdomen. Oh man the poor kid. That looked like it hurt. The blood completely soaked the hackers hand, along with his dark green tank top he wore under his jacket, which was also splattered with a good bit of blood. The sight was pretty horrifying... and sad almost. Yeah mirage had seen this stuff before plenty of times. But for some reason seeing a victimized crypto just had his heart ache a bit.

He may have a soft spot for the kid.

Crypto had been there for a while, clutching his wound and just focusing on breathing. His squad had decided to land here in the beginning, feeling a little to blood thirsty for his liking. Even after he said it was a bad idea they still dropped, and they were very quickly wiped. His squadmates were killed, leaving only him alive with a Wingman. As he had tried to recover the banners he was shot right through the back with... a gun obviously. He collapsed and crawled his way over to the rock where he remained downed as the rest of the squads around him fought until the last of them either parished or moved on. He was stuck here. And now mirage was here... hopefully he’d just kill him. He was in pain and couldn’t take much more.

The hackers eyes slowly opened, gazing up at the trickster kneeling before him, clenching his teeth as a bit of blood seeped through them.

“What are you doing-.. gh-.. old man....” the hacker just barely breathed out, his eyes rolling closed as he winced, the effort of speaking burning his torn diaphragm.

Hearing crypto try to speak just hurt mirage in the chest, wanting to shush him but that may only distress the hacker more. He was obviously left here to bleed out. That wasn’t very fair...

“Well kid, I was just looting around and I caught the sound of a damsel in distress so I figured I’d check it out and well- you’re hurt” mirage summed it up. Crypto didn’t seem to react to his words, only breathing heavily and occasionally letting out low soft moans of pain.

“You should just kill me...” crypto then mumbled out, a small cough leaving his throat afterwards. His eyes opened again, locking with mirages. There was a little hint of nervousness in the hackers deep dark eyes. That was pretty rare to see from crypto, but he couldn’t blame him. If he was in a situation like this is crypto’s position, and crypto was the one that found him, he’d be pretty nervous to. And damn did it hurt to see the kid nervous. Nervous about what? Dying?

Looking at the situation right now, it seemed dying would be the better option, for crypto of course. But that would just be cruel... he didn’t want to do that to him. As much as he hated seeing crypto in this much pain, knowing he could end it all for the hacker in one shot to the head, he wouldn’t kill him. He just couldn’t. Mirage didn’t have the heart to do that. Especially to crypto...

“That would be easy, but nope. Sorry kid” mirage finally huffed, standing up and moving closer to the wounded hacker. To his crypto actually flinched, his eyes widening as mirage got closer.

“What are you-“

“Just relax. I got this under control” the trickster shushed before carefully gripping the hackers shoulder and trying to move him to lay him down. To this crypto had flinched again, grunting in pain but he didn’t fight the man. How could he in this state? He allows mirage to lay him down on the rough rocky ground, groaning out in pain as the hand still covered his bloody wound. His eyes were trained on mirage, wide and worried almost, like a scared animal. But crypto didn’t look scared, only nervous. Mirage pulled out the familiar syringe you would use to revive a teammate. He planned to use it on crypto. An enemy. Someone of an opposite team. Was that against the rules? Most definitely

Crypto stayed quiet, but as mirage moved his hand down and suddenly jabbed him in the shoulder with the syringe, crypto couldn’t help the small but semi loud groan that left his mouth. Mirage winced a bit but slowly began to help the kid sit up as the syringe did its work, slowly but completely healing the wound in crypto’s abdomen. “There we go”. Mirage hummed and slowly lifted crypto to sit up again, leaning back once the hacker had his back against the rock again. “Good as new right?” Crypto didn’t have the words, staring at his stomach before looking back up at mirage. He was still in pain.

“Oh right- sorry. Take this” mirage said before handing crypto a medkit he pulled out of his blue back pack. He set it down on the ground for crypto to take if he desired. The hacker didn’t move for a while, staring at the offer before actually taking it. Wow! Mirage couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face as he watched crypto use the medkit. He felt good. Really good for helping the hacker.

Crypto stuck his arm with the syringe, wincing as the affects took a hold immediately and completely healed him. He sighed and dropped the useless syringe once it was empty, slowly sitting up a little more. He felt a lot better, no more pain. Reguvinated. “Thank you...” came the hackers low but smooth voice. And another bright smile bloomed on the trickster face.

“Hey you my friend, are very welcome” mirage said back happily before standing up. “Alright kid, the rings closing, we should probably get going”. He informed the hacker before stepping back and surveying the area.

Crypto was quiet, staring at mirage with an unreadable expression. What an idiot... what an actual idiot... did he really think saving him was going to change anything? This was still a game... they were still enemies. You gained nothing from helping an enemy. You only screwed yourself, and that’s exactly what mirage did.

“You’re a fool... old man”. Suddenly crypto stood up, aiming a gun to mirages head, the wingman he had picked up earlier. To this sudden action mirage jumped back in alarm instinctively pulling out his own 301 and aiming it at the hacker defensively.

“Whoa whoa whoa kid- this doesn’t have to be this way- c-come on! I just saved you!” Mirage almost whined to the hacker, who in return glared are the trickster. If mirage had to kill crypto then he would. This was threatening but he wouldn’t back down. Maybe he could talk crypto out of it? “Kid- what are you going to do against me with a pistol? Huh? And no shields? I know you’re smarter than that-“

“You should have just killed me. You’re an idiot to think helping an enemy would aid you” the hacker bit back as cold as ice, his eyes narrowing as his finger applied pressure to the trigger. Mirage tensed and also added a little pressure. He really didn’t want to have to do this... “crypto- easy! Come on- I’m giving you a second chance! Your match wasn’t fair and you know that! Hell- if I were you I’d die for a second chance right now! Come with me and we’ll get you suited up, and then you can go kill as many people as you want! Hell you can even kill me if it makes you feel better” the trickster tried you reason.

The words seemed to have crypto thinking, and mirage loosened up a little bit, feeling hopeful. Crypto blinked, looking down as the air gently blue his long black locks around in front of his face and over his eyes. If mirage wasn’t focusing he’d think that was pretty hot... huh?

Crypto seemed to focus back on the man, giving him a cold wary glance before lowering the wingman, his arm slowly dropping to his side. “For now...” the hacker mumbled and put his gun away. Mirage let out a breath of relief he didn’t even know he was holding in, lowering his own weapon as well and putting it away.

“Phew- for a second I thought I’d actually have to kill you. You know that would’ve broke my heart” mirage cooed, covering his heart with his hands dramatically. To this crypto rolled his eyes and walked past the goofy man with a soft groan. “Just find me some loot and I’ll be on my way...”

“Of course! Just follow me and you’ll have plenty!” Mirage piped up and gently grabbed crypto’s arm and pulled him along, to which the hacker flinched but followed. Crypto seemed to be relaxing a little bit which was good for now. Maybe mirage could convince Bangalore and Wraith to... hm... adopt crypto? A 4th partner would be awesome! But a little unfair... he knew he strict Bangalore was with the rules. Maybe he could sweet talk her into keeping the kid? I mean, mirage felt pretty bad for crypto in this situation, he wanted to help even if the korean seemed to deny any and all help. He seemed to want to blow his face off for helping him more th an anything.

Mirage didn’t dare mention his squad to crypto though, he didn’t want to risk panicking the paranoid weirdo. Last thing he needed as a bullet going through his skull or a drone whacking him across the face. It wasn’t pleasant. It really wasn’t. Mirage lead crypto through that small tunnel that lead to more buildings and that one tall building with the Respawn tower on top of it. That’s where his team was.

“Why did you help me?” A low korean tone suddenly spoke out. Mirage was to distracted with calling his teammates down to notice crypto speaking, but when he did he turned to face the kid and shrugged his shoulders.

“Because I know if I were stuck in your position I’d love some help. Plus I felt a little bad for you because I know how unfair it is to be killed off so quick. Well- overall I felt bad” he summed it up and sighed. Crypto stared long and hard at mirage with a confused expression before looking away and just walking along side him. He secretly appreciated mirage not actually killing him. Maybe he’d express his gratitude later.

“If it had been anyone else you probably would’ve killed them” crypto then said which was unexpected. This even caught mirage by surprise, looking at the kid before smiling with a small chuckle.

“You’re probably right. I’ve only got a soft spot for you”.

This had crypto’s eyes widening, glancing to mirage before looking away.

“You’re weird, old man...”

The sound of loud footsteps slowly approaching the two, a mirage froze, standing in front of crypto with a wide and hopefully convincing smile. Slowly Wraity and Bangalore appeared, looking none to thrilled to see the trickster alive, but whatever was behind the mans back had them clearly puzzled. Mirage could barely contain his excitement, moving out of the way to reveal crypto, who immediately looked up and took a harsh step back.

Was this man crazy? Crypto grit his teeth together, his hand hovering over the hilt of his gun. Mirage didn’t seem to realize the danger he just put crypto in. Instead, he spoke.

“Ok, I know this may be against the rules and all but, I just happened to find crypto bleeding to death in the city and- well you know me and my big caring heart, I couldn’t leave him there! So I helped him and brought him with me. I was hoping we could spare some shields or something? Help him out a little?.... maybe even keep him?” Mirage said, looking like a child begging their parents to by them a toy.

Wraith and Bangalore both had hard gazed pointed towards crypto, who also returned the gaze, now clutching his wing man. Although, the two women found themselves listening to mirage babble, exchanging glances before looking back at mirage, then to crypto.

The moment was extremely silent, a cold atmosphere seeming to fall over them all. Mirage grew tense, noticing how both the women were staring down crypto. He looked between the three and was about to step in front of crypto to protect him. “Hold on- before we do anything rash-“ and suddenly a shot rang through the air, and then a familiar groan of pain as the sound of a body hitting the ground.

Mirage barely had time to register what happened, seeing wraith holding up her G-7, the end of the barrel smoking, signaling that she had fired the weapon. Mirage then glanced behind himself, seeing the poor hackers body, laying on the ground with a bullet hole in his head. Mirages skin went white, the sight a little to hard for him to bare. Yes he’s seen worse! But for some reason seeing this happen to crypto was just unsettling... mirage immediately fell to his knees and gathered up the hackers limp body, his head lulling to the side, hitting against mirages shoulder. Mirage felt upset, really upset. After helping the poor kid this is what happens to him...

“Why!- why did you do this! He could’ve helped us- you didn’t even give him a chance!” Mirage spoke up, looking back to his two teammates who only exchanged glances before Bangalore spoke up.

“Can’t have tangos hangin around the squad. It’s against gameplay. You of all people should know that...”. Her words had mirages heart aching. He knew he was stupid for trying to help but how could he just leave crypto there to die?! Well he really was wrong to try to help. He just got the poor kid killed... it was his fault... he stared down at crypto’s lifeless body, something inside his chest snapping, which was probably his heart.

“She’s right. But we need to keep moving” wraity spoke up, looking to Bangalore who nodded and turned to walk away, in which wraith followed. Mirage was stuck staring at crypto’s bloody face, a shaky sigh leaving his lips as he closed his eyes.

“Aw... I’m so sorry kid....” he murmured and opened his eyes again. It was his fault... it was... and the guilt was really beginning to eat him up. He should’ve just killed crypto. It would’ve been so much easier for the both of them... he slowly opened his arms and laid crypto down on the ground on his back, stepping back and watching as his lifeless body finally faded into a death box like the rest of them did. Mirage let out another soft whine of sadness, starring at crypto’s banner. The banner made him smile softly, before that smile slowly faded as he turned to walk away, so he could painfully finish this game. Suffering through the rest of the match knowing that he got crypto killed. He should’ve just branched off away from his squad...

The rest of the match had been painful, the guilt eating away inside him made it hard to fight. But eventually their squad had been wiped. What a relief for mirage. He had been so done in that arena. He just couldn’t stop thinking about crypto...

When he had finally repawned back on the drop ship he was sat in his chair in his room. He gazed around and let out a sight before standing up. Finally some peace... he stretched and groaned, brushing his hair back with his hand before heading out of his room. Everything seemed the old same old same old, nothing new as usual. Octavio playing video games, Makoa and Ajay chatting on the couch. The normal. Mirage was happy to see everyone, walking into the room and letting his charming presence fill the room, saying hi as he walked by.

His presence wasn’t unnoticed, at least by one person.

Mirage had moved to the kitchen to grab himself a drink, for he so desperately needed one after that dreadful match. He grabbed a cup and filled it with some water before drinking it and setting the cup down in the sink. “Woo, that feels much better” he mumbled to himself before walking out. Once the living room was out of view for mirage, walking down another hallway, a voice seemed to stop him in his tracks.

“Elliott...” a very familiar korean voice spoke out from behind him. Mirage froze in his tracks, immediately spinning around on his heels to face the hacker now standing infront of him. Crypto seemed to be partially hanging out of his room, his legs inside his room while the rest of him stuck out. Once he seemed to have mirages attention crypto sighed and slowly moved the rest of himself out of his room, gazing up at mirage with a nuetral expression.

Mirage seemed excited and relieved at the same time to see crypto ok and alive. His arms moved along with his mouth, gawking at the kid.

“I- hey- kid- oh- you’re alive...” he couldn’t stop himself from speaking. Crypto raised an eyebrow at the mans excitement and almost seemed a littl uncomfortable with it, taking a step back with a small grunt. The hacker opened his mouth to speak.

“I wanted to-“

He was suddenly cut off... but not by mirage speaking, no... it was a feeling. A physical feeling. The trickster has suddenly moved forward with open arms and wrapped them around the lean hacker in a form of a hug, a nice warm hug. Mirages head was rested on crypto’s shoulder, his eyes closed as he just gently squeezed the hacker in a nice hug. Crypto was frozen, his eyes wide and confused. Normally he would be very sensitive to physical contact, pushing people away and even snapping at them. But he could almost feel the relief washing off of mirage. He could tell the man sort of... needed this. So crypto let it happen surprisingly. His expression softened only the slightest, but only because mirage couldn’t see his face for now, standing still and letting the man hug him.

“I’m so sorry kid- I shouldn’t have- I was stupid...” mirage muttered out, opening his eyes as he stared at the floor. Crypto rose an eyebrow to those words, hesitantly placing a cold hand on mirages back, as a small form of comfort.

“Don’t apologize you idiot” crypto muttered back. The hug had lasted long enough and crypto grew a little tense, so mirage pulled back, a small smile covering his face as he even looked a little flustered. Crypto wasn’t mad at mirage if that’s what he thought, but he just brushed it off and straightened back up, shoving his hands back into his pockets.

“As I was saying. I... wanted to tell you... I’m grateful you helped me” the hacker stated, the hesitation very clear in his voice. “Even though you should’ve killed me...” he then added lowly.

Mirage couldn’t help the smile that grew on his face, even bigger than before. He waved his hand in an ‘aw shucks’ motion and chuckled. “Don’t mention it kid, just doin my duty. Just couldn’t let you die there all alone” he said with an added wink.

Crypto’s eyes narrowed and widened at the same time, looking a bit disgusted by the words and the wink. “Never say that again...” he scoffed.

“What? Duty? Sorry I have no filter kiddo” mirage teased back with a shit eating grin. Funny that some words could annoy crypto. And that certainly had made the hacker groan, rolling his brown eyes at the man.

“Whatever, old man...” crypto said before turning away to walk back into his room. But before he went in he stopped inside his door frame, casting a side glance to mirage. For some reason he just felt the urge to he nice to the man after he helped him. “Goodnight Elliott” he spoke softly.

Mirage smiled at this, not even caring if his cheeks hurt from smiling. “Goodnight Crypto, sweet dreams” he sing songed before watching the hacker disappear into his room again, closing the door.

Mirage sighed and walked away with a soft smile. Something felt warm in his chest, his heart was fluttering. Could he be feeling... attached? Inside the dark bedroom a certain hacker may be feeling the same sensation. Crypto lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling wondering what exactly he was feeling right now. His heart was beating and his cheeks felt hot. Of course crypto understood emotions, but he just couldn’t force himself to believe he was feeling them. He couldn’t...

But he was...

“Damn you Elliott...”

#cryptage #apex crypto #apex legends crypto #crypto #apex legends #crypto apex legends #tae joon park #apex #crypto apex #apex legends mirage #apex mirage #mirage apex #mirage apex legends #mirage #elliott witt #apex legends bangalore #apex legends wraith

[selfships-in-spanish]

UH YES HI HELLO CAN I GET ALL THREE ROBO BOYS AND ONA GETTING IT ON BC CONNOR, 60, AND RICHARD ?? WITH ONA ? FUCK YES, BRING ON ALL THE ROBO DICKS - filth anon 🍆

JFORGHFASD FILTH ANON!! I MISSED YOU AROUND HERE MY FELLOW SINNER. WELCOME BACK MY FRIEND!!!! But jesus fucking Christ, Ona is about to get thoroughly fucked by three very horny robots. RIP her pussy.

Also MILLION APOLOGIES for taking this long but the horny braincell didn’t want to cooperate. AT LAST! IT IS HERE! :D also a bazillion thanks to @tinmiss1939 for being such a sweetheart and helping me out when english also didn’t want to cooperate. I love you girl ❤️

But this is filth. Pure, unadulterated smut for your reading eyes :D enjoy!

 Whoever had the idea of making a field day for the police station as a fundraising with activities and such, was both a genius and a sadist. Especially in summer.

It was hot, you could hear the bugs chirping and people seeking the shadow of trees and tents if they were not engaging in any activity, cool drinks in hand. The water-gun fight was a godsend, helping those who were battling to cool down under the unforgiving sun.

But Connor thought it was absolute torture to be involved in the water-gun fight. Not for the fight per se, he actually loved spraying water directly into Detective Reed’s face, but because he had to fight against Detective Boix.

Detective Boix who is a complete drenched mess.

She’s laughing, ducking behind a barrel while another officer tries to soak her even more. Connor cannot remember the name, and right now he couldn’t care less. All his processing power is currently occupied with preconstructions about sneaking behind her, aim with an unmatched precision, soak that patch that is resisting so bravely, making her turn around so he can add even more water to her front and–

“If you continue with that train of thought, you’re going to self-combust.” Richard, the RK900 that was found, awakened and deployed on the DPD, spoke behind him. He was close too, and judging by his red LED, he wasn’t fairing better.

“The same could apply to you.”

“I still have more processing power.”

“All that mighty power goes south when dear Detective Boix is near.” another voice identical to Connor spoke on their left side. This was the RK800-60, the version generated to confront Connor at cyberlife tower. He liked going by the name of Killian, trying to distance himself from his double and his upgraded model. It gave him a sense of self.

Richard looked at him with a raised eyebrow and a glare that clearly indicated “that is utter bullshit and you’re not immune either”. He would never admit to his bratty predecessor that he, indeed, had certain malfunctions when the detective was near. He was designed to be superior than them, faster, stronger, more resilient…

Killian and Richard heard Connor produce some sort of noise, a mix between a whimper and grinding metal. They looked at him, a little bit concerned, and then at Connor’s hands gripping tightly the gun. If he added a little bit more pressure, he would break it. His eyes were glued ahead, watching Ona squealing and then laughing again when Tina aimed right at her butt.

Ona was wearing shorts that hugged her… assets rather nicely. Her legs were on display, honey skin glistening with water. If the three RK prototypes focused on the freckles and cute moles sprayed on them like constellations, nobody could blame them for that.

The sound of footsteps alerted them, but they were more focused at the view in front of them. Ona ducked another water spray and aimed her water gun, hitting Tina right on her stomach. The droplets moved down her skin, their eyes following the paths and even preconstructing where would they end up. The RKs knew the footsteps belonged to a male, judging by the way the person moved, and as their processors detected, they belonged to a coworker. A young male.

Without looking away, the three androids raised their water guns and with deadly accuracy, sprayed the poor soul who thought they could sneak on them. They heard a yell and colourful curses, their victim stomping away.

“Fuck you, you plastic pricks!” Gavin shook the water off his face, blinking rapidly as Richard’s jet hit him right in his eyes. Connor hit his torso, while Killian soaked the front of his jeans, leaving Gavin to feel very uncomfortable every time he took a step.

“That’s what you get for sneaking behind three state of the art androids, you fool.” Hank laughed while making his addition to the soaked mess that was Gavin. He aimed to his shoes, knowing they would do squeaky noises until they dried. He walked over the three androids, chuckling to himself. “I know better than to try to soak you three, but I must tell you that you look creepy as fuck right now. I suggest moving your asses and join the battle and stop ogling our darling detective over there.”

Connor gasped, slightly offended. “I am not ogling!” At least he had the decency to slightly blush.

“We are merely assuring Detective Boix is alright, should she need reinforcements.” Richard knew Hank was staring at him with his bushy brow raised and giving him the “oh really?” face. He had to try.

“Oh yeah? Then why not assist her now? She clearly needs help.” Hank nodded in Ona’s direction.

Ona ran away from the combined power of Chris and Tina, laughing and blindly shooting jets of water. Somehow, Chris managed to get a Super-Soaker model with way more water capacity; he could drench you in seconds.

“I guess I’ll have to be her knight in shi–” Killian took a few steps forward until Connor shoved past him, Richard sprinting behind him. He cursed and ran after them two, not wanting to be the last to arrive.

Hank looked at the three of them, crossing his arms and chuckling. “State of the art my ass.” He went back to the forgiving shade of a tree where Fowler and her wife and kids were chatting with Ben, who was being victim of the kid’s water guns. Hank saved him and sprayed them lightly, making them squeal.

Meanwhile, Ona managed to escape from Chris and Tina and took this opportunity to go refill her gun and take a breather. It had been a long time since the entire precinct had a good time. With the whole android revolution mess, the changes that came after and everything… it had been chaos, stressful. Everyone was on edge, everyone was confused and trying their best, so this was truly an opportunity to wind down and forget about the stress for a while.

She entered the visitors locker room behind the courtyard where they were having their fight.

Detroit’s high-school lended their facilities, the trackfield and locker rooms too, to the DPD’s fundraiser. Even the kids helped with some decorations and they proudly showed the artwork, making sure no jets of water hit the decorative paper garlands and banners. Richard would make sure the murals survived, he still didn’t know how to react with the fact that some kids decided to draw him, but he would protect it.

Ona hoped nobody was there; she just needed a little bit of quiet. She sighed blissfully, smiling as she felt the cool air caress her wet skin, and walked to one of the multiple sinks while opening the water-guns’s refill chamber. The sound of water splashing inside the empty plastic filled the locker room, the sounds of children giggling and screaming muffled and in the distance. She looked at herself in the mirror, letting out a soft laugh at her appearance. Her t-shirt was completely drenched and her white curls were glued to her forehead and face, some droplets falling down. She thanked whatever deity that was there that she decided to wear a bikini, knowing Chris and Tina had a massive competitive streak and would absolutely target Ona.

She did not hear the door of the visitors locker room opening and closing, too busy thinking about strategies to fight back against Chris and Tina. Once the water-gun was filled to the brim, Ona closed it and left it on top of the sink, stretching her arms and back like a cat, even letting out a sigh when some parts popped into place. She was suddenly hit by an ice-cold water jet on the last dry spot on her back.

Ona let out a loud shriek, jumping and bumping her hip on the sink. Colourful curses followed while she went for her water-gun, turning around to see Connor, Killian and Richard standing right there with Connor’s water-gun raised. He had the decency to look a little bit guilty about it. Ona left the gun back on the sink.

“Me cago en la leche, you scared me!” She had her hand on her chest, feeling her heart beating wildly while the other one cradled her bruised hip.

“Sorry Detective.” Connor lowered his arm and kicked at an imaginary stone. Ona marvelled at the completely human reactions he had sometimes.

“You are not sorry at all, Connor.” Killian crossed his arms, smugly smiling at Connot for being scolded.

Ona sighed, ignoring Killian and Connor’s guilty face for a second and noticing Richard way more silent than he already was.

“Everything okay there, Richard?”

He stood into attention, nodding, but all he could process was ‘wet shirt, bikini top, wet skin, freckles, wet translucent shirt…’.

“Yes Detective Boix, everything is functioning at its optimal—“

“He’s about to fry his CPU.” Killian stopped Richard mid sentence, trying to stifle a laugh at Richard’s murderous expression thrown at him.

“What?” Ona gasped, stopping whatever action Richard may have done. She ran to his side, carefully grasping his uniform jacket. “Oh my God Richard, did something happen? Did water get in someway? Do we need to take you to a Cyberlife technician? If it’s this bad we need to take you to one.” Ona went on and on, alarmed at the led spinning violently red.

The three androids internally cooed at her, her distress making them feel appreciated. Richard tried to say something but all his processing power was focused on to not accidentally overheat and the wet white t-shirt that clung to her snugly, not leaving anything to the imagination. Now that she was closer, he could see her glistening skin, feel the warmth of her body, and he honestly was only a good little android trying so hard to be a good little android.

Killian wasn’t a good little boy scout like Connor or Richard. He was a handsome devil and he knew it. He approached them and stood right behind Ona. Grinning, he let his lips brush her ear as he spoke.

“This is solely because Mr. ‘Faster, Stronger and more Resilient’ is having his processing power go south.”

Killian made Ona jump and gasp as he tugged her t-shirt back, tightening and gluing itself on her body. Her bikini top pattern became more apparent and Richard let out a soft frustrated sound, raising his hands but not daring to touch yet. Killian chuckled, sending pleasant shivers down Ona’s spine.

“You have been a bad girl, Detective,” Killian sneaked a hand around her body, exploring her belly and toying with the hem of her shorts. “A bad, bad girl, teasing us three with such indecorous clothing.” Killian knew it was a very cheesy line, but Ona’s sharp intake of air made him grin, knowing she was getting on with the program.

On the corner of his eye, Killian saw Connor silently move, walking to the visitors locker room entrance and locking the front door. The click of the lock felt as if a rubber band snapped. Richard dropped the plastic gun to the floor and grasped her face in his big hands, pulling her to his lips. Ona’s little moans were engulfed by Richard, her hands desperately holding onto him on his passionate onslaught.

Richard knew humans needed to breathe and Ona was not an exception. He let go of her lips, feeling her pants on his wet ones. Killian wasted no time, he let go of her to turn her head to him, crashing his lips into hers hard. He was demanding, hungry, needy, desperate, and Ona couldn’t help but be consumed by the pure lust he emanated.

Her moans fueled him further, his hands touching and grabbing all the flesh he could. Ona felt Richard go to his knees, his warmth disappearing momentarily. He unfastened her trousers and pulled them down, looking up in time to see Killian give her a moment to breathe. She looked down and whimpered, her blown pupils swallowing her green irises. Richard was a sight to behold, all disheveled and visibly affected, opposite to his usual composed and perfect self.

Connor sat down on the bench close to them, enjoying the show in front of him, for now. Killian was always impatient, wanting to go quick and dirty, while Richard wanted to take all the time in the world to make sure Ona wouldn’t be able to even lift a finger. He was patient, alright, but her heaving chest and arched back was bewitching him.

Maybe he accidentally projected some of that eagerness to join in the fun, because Killian looked right at him while leaving a sloppy trail of kisses on her neck, perfect teeth nipping the soft skin. Connor frowned, not entirely happy with that.

“Don’t leave marks, Killian. At least not on visible places.” Killian groaned, upset that Connor discovered his intentions. He loved to mark her up and let everyone know she was his, to see her flesh react to his actions. It was such a treat to hear her sweet moans.

“Party pooper…” Ona could feel Killian’s whispered words on her neck, his tongue following after.

Richard busied himself with her thighs, kissing the droplets away and following the pattern of freckles on her skin. He took one of her legs and lifted it gently, placing it down on his shoulder. He left a trail of more kisses and soft brushing of lips, raising goosebumps on its wake. Richard’s hands traveled up until he found the strings of the bikini bottoms, toying with them. He decided to leave them on, for now.

Ona’s leg trembled, followed by a whimper, and Richard decided it was time to do what every single biocomponent was begging him to. Slowly he traced a finger on the bikini hem, travelling up and down until he hooked it and pulled the fabric to the side, just enough for him to see what he was looking for.

She was a soaked mess, her juices dripping out of her. Richard licked his lips in anticipation.

A soft mewl tore itself out of Ona’s mouth, her hands going immediately to Richard’s head and gripping his hair tightly, the moment Richard’s tongue shyly lapped her up. He gave kitten licks, enjoying her squirming and trembling thighs, and pleasedly sighed when he buried his face between her legs. He loved to be surrounded by her warmth, her scent, her taste… and to pull the most lovely sounds from her lips. Richard decided he could be bolder, lick a stripe up and busy himself with her clit that was begging him for attention. The response was immediate. Ona moaned loudly, a curse following after as the hands tightened their hold and pressed him even closer to her.

Connor loved watching Ona get eaten out by Richard. He was meticulous, he always gave everything to it and left Ona an absolute mess. But her fucked out expression was a treat. He could feel himself constricted in his clothes, his biocomponents begging for fresh, cold air. He could wait. Okay, scratch that, he couldn’t, her moan made that patience fly out the window.

The sound of Connor’s belt buckle being undone made Ona look to the side, letting out a soft mewl when she saw Connor touching himself while focusing all his attention on her. It felt exhilarating, to have these three gorgeous, brilliant men (who happened to be the most advanced prototype androids ever made) having their way with her and enjoying every damn second of it. Killian didn’t like how her attention was on Connor, and he made sure she knew by biting her exposed neck. Connor’s growl made Ona wetter, which in turn made Richard let out a pleased groan at the feel of her juices coating his mouth and chin.

“I said no visible marks, Killian.”

“Oh c’mon, don’t deny how much it turns you on to see everyone look at you green with envy.”

“I don’t like to cause distress to the Detective.” Connor stopped his hand, a cutting edge on his words.

Richard had enough of his predecessors’ bickering. With regret, he tore himself apart from her sopping wet cunt and smoothly stood up. He could hear Ona mutter a breathy curse at the sight of his glistening mouth, his tongue unconsciously swiping over his lips. Killian knew he got himself in trouble judging by the angry frown the RK900 unit sported. Richard shoved him away, making him release the detective’s body so he could sit her next to Connor. Reaching behind him, he took out his issued handcuffs.

“You are being a brat,” Richard grabbed him by his shirt and shoved him to the bench behind them. “On the floor. Now.” One would be wise to not question Richard, even less when he was horny.

Killian thought about spitting a retort, but Richard’s angry scowl made him rethink his life choices. He obeyed, sitting down.

“Hands behind your back.” Killian put them and pitifully whined when Richard blocked his perfect view of Connor making Ona sit on his lap after getting rid of Ona’s shorts. He had the beautiful sight of her ass in front of him, full and plump.

Connor knew how much he liked it, so after Richard finished cuffing him to the iron bench leg, Connor grabbed a handful and squeezed, making her whimper. Killian groaned, really wanting to do that himself.

“Don’t you dare break them.” Richard warned him as he went next to Ona and Connor.

Connor busied himself with peppering her neck with soft kisses as he played with her ass, grabbing her with both hands so he could grind his cock up at the same time he pushed her down. Ona wrapped her arms around his neck and began moving on her own, pressing down desperately, needing more. But Connor wasn’t going to move along soon, loving the feel of her bikini bottom’s fabric on his cock, so she had to take matters into her hands. Literally. With an annoyed grunt, Ona unglued herself from Connor and grabbed his cock, positioning it right where she wanted it. With her other hand she pushed aside the slippery fabric of her bikini and sank herself down. Connor moaned out loud, his cock twitching at the burning sensation engulfing him.

The three androids loved when Ona rode them. She took what she wanted, riding them with wild abandon. And right now Connor let himself be used. She had been played with by them, teased, edged, and now she really, really needed to have her brains fucked out. Connor helped her when he was able to gather his wits, thrusting up at the same time she went down. That made her moan out loud, a breathy “fuck yes” whispered out right after.

The sight was maddening for Killian. He had the most perfect view right in front of him, he could see the jiggle of her ass as Connor pounded into her, Connor’s cock disappear in that wonderful tight heat… he felt himself throb inside his trousers, probably staining the front of his dark jeans. Ona let Connor take the pace now, falling to his chest and taking what he had to offer. She turned her head, hair plastered on her forehead, to Richard. Her coy smile invited him to join them both. And he couldn’t refuse, not when that mouth was so tempting and open, letting the three of them know how much she was enjoying it.

Richard unbuckled his belt and lowered his trousers enough to free his aching cock. Ona was both surprised and pleased that Richard decided to forgo underwear today. Richard stood astride the bench, feeling Ona’s warm breath on the exposed tip. She let her tongue playfully lick the tip, using the rocking motion of Connor’s hips to let her tongue taste more of him.

Connor decided to slow down a bit, to grab her hips and pull her down so he could slowly grind up to her. Ona moaned softly, closing her eyes at the feel of Connor hitting all the right places. The feel of her plush lips kissing and and brushing along Richard’s cock made him mutter a curse, biting his lips and using all his willpower to not thrust into her mouth. Ona liked to tease, the three of them knew it all too well, and now it was Richard’s time to suffer it. She slowly wrapped her lips around the tip, applying the lightest of suctions, while her tongue shyly curled around it. Connor kept moving, watching enraptured as Ona took more of Richard’s cock inside her mouth. Richard was made to be bigger, more intimidating, and their designers made sure every part of him matched. So it was always a wonder how Ona managed to take him all in.

Killian’s fingers twitched, itching to just break the handcuffs and join them. He would show them. He would teach them how to thoroughly debauch her and—

“Don’t you even think about it, RK800-60”. Richard’s growl made him freeze, like a deer in headlights.

Connor’s eyes had a dangerous glint too, watching Killian like a hawk. But while Richard was distracted, Connor took that opportunity to tear Ona away from Richard’s cock with a wet pop and take off her soaked t-shirt. He was hypnotized by the way her breasts bounced, and he needed to see them without any clothing in the way. Connor pushed aside the bikini top, and he cursed when he saw the perky nipples begging him for attention. But what made him lose it was the visible tan line. It fascinated the three androids, but it was Connor’s weakness.

A hand on Ona’s back of the head reminded her of the aching need in front of her, and while Connor was still distracted, she inched closer to take Richard back inside her mouth. She tore away one of her hands holding her in place to grab whatever was closest to her hand and urge Richard to take what he wanted. She could take it, and right now? She needed it.

Richard could never deny her anything, and he began moving his hips to a comfortable rhythm until her hand tugged at him again. Connor regained his senses and started moving again, bouncing her on his lap while his hands squeezed her breasts. But his hands weren’t enough, he needed more, so he bent until his lips brushed her skin, kissing and nipping the tan line until his mouth engulfed a nipple. Ona moaned around Richard’s cock, and Connor could feel her walls tightening on his. By the mess Ona was making between her legs, Connor knew she was close, and judging by the way Richard’s hips stuttered on his perfect rhythm, he needed more than her mouth. Connor sneaked a hand between them, his thumb rubbing her slippery clit. The reaction was immediate.

Ona arched her back, making Richard’s cock slip out of her mouth. She moaned without a care, rocking her hips. Connor kept playing with her nipples and found himself with a mouth full of it, making him groan pleasedly, when Ona wrapped her arms around his neck and tugged him closer, lost in the onslaught of pleasure Connor’s thumb was making her feel. Thank God he didn’t need to breathe.

Connor kept snapping his hips up, but he was losing his perfect rhythm as he felt his own orgasm approaching. It felt as if every single biocomponent was on fire, burning with electricity that pooled down his groin. Connor chased that euphoric sensation, the slapping of skin against skin echoing inside the locker room and only arousing him more. Ona kept moaning his name as she felt herself be close, bouncing on his lap. Connor knew by the way Ona said his name, breathless and as if she was devoting herself to him, that he could not stop now.

Ona cried out one last time, her nails digging into Connor’s skin as she went still, feeling herself dissolve into a pleasured puddle. Connor followed her, letting go of her nipple and groaning into her feverish skin, feeling her squeeze his cock and milking him dry as he buried himself deep inside her, moaning a mixture of curse words and her name. Their panting felt loud in the now quiet locker room. Connor searched for her lips, whispering a soft “I love you” just before he kissed her reply away, a content and sated feeling washing over him at her “I love you too”.

Killian softly cursed at the mess that trickled down her thighs, the sight right in front of him, as Richard helped her get up after letting her bask in the afterglow on Connor’s arms. Still dazed, Ona let herself be guided by Richard’s hands, using him as support as her legs were threatening to give out. Richard softly kissed her lips, so sweetly at first, just a chaste press where he enjoyed the velvety feel of her lips on his. He kept kissing her slowly, taking her breath away by the passion behind every swipe of his tongue, every nibble. The hand that was on her back slowly made its way down, caressing the naked flesh until Richard squeezed her buttock, making her giggle and prompting her to lift her leg up. Richard’s hand caressed her flesh and held the leg in place while he kept kissing her.

“You are just plain cruel. Both of you.” Killian kept staring, hypnotised. He licked his lips, squeezing his bound fists in frustration. Richard made sure Killian could perfectly see the globs of cum trailing down Ona’s thigh, and like the saucy little minx she was, Ona spread her cheek further, knowing it would only drive Killian up the wall even more. He could see her pleased smirk. “So fucking cruel.”

“You deserve it for being a brat.” Connor spoke from the bench, already tidying himself up and tucking his now soft cock inside his pants. He got up and sat down on the bench Killian was cuffed to. “And for that, you only get to watch.”

“Oh, c’mon! You have to be kidding me!” in his frustration he tugged against Richard’s handcuffs again, which made Connor lean in and coldly warn him.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you. If this is cruel for you, we haven’t even started then.”

Killian swallowed hard at Connor’s phrasing—he didn’t need to swallow at all he was an android for fuck’s sake! But Connor’s angry frown, the freezing cold stare he gave him… Richard was down right terrifying, but Connor knew how to exactly exploit your weaknesses, and right now Killian was his target. Connor distracted him long enough so Killian didn’t see Richard hauling Ona up and walking them to the nearest locker, resting her back on the cold metal. Her pleased groan as Richard filled her echoed around the locker room. Richard chose to undo a few buttons of his shirt earlier and Ona took that opportunity to sneak one of her hands under the layers of clothing Richard wore like armor.

Richard set a fast pace, already too pent up to take it slow. Killian could only watch and listen. The absolutely filthy but arousing squelching sounds of her filled up cunt only served to rile him up further. Ona opened her eyes, her gaze fixed on Killian’s one as she rested her head against Richard’s neck, panting against his exposed skin and sending pleasured shivers down his spine. Killian unconsciously mimicked her, opening slightly his mouth too to help his biocomponents cool down as he panted. After a perfectly spot on thrust from Richard, Ona’s eyes closed as she moaned loudly, biting his skin to quiet herself down. She kissed the abused flesh, apologising for being harsh, but it spurred Richard on, pressing her harder against the locker and thrusting into her with wild abandon. Ona’s legs squeezed his body, a dead give-away of how she was close again. The three androids always made sure to take advantage of Ona being multiorgasmic, and right now it wasn’t an exception. Richard kept pistoning in and out, whispering to her ear all the praises he could think of, and letting gravity help him in filling Ona up. Richard sneaked a hand between them, much like Connor did earlier, and rubbed his fingers against her clit in the same rhythm his hips were snapping into her.

“Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck– I’m so close, so close!” Ona was feeling light-headed, drunk with pleasure. Her nails dug into his jacket hard enough for Richard’s sensors to feel the pressure, mewling softly into his skin, as her other hand gripped his short hair and tugged. That made Richard let out a pleasured grunt as he shoved harder his hips against hers.

Richard jerked his hips a few more times until he went completely still, pressing her body against the locker with his body. He let out a low groan, his big hands squeezing her heated flesh, as Ona came around him, crying out his name. She could feel Richard’s cock pulse inside her, filling her up to the brim and adding more to the mess left by Connor. It was sinfully perfect.

Ona sighed, content and sated. Richard carefully let her down, not missing his chance to run his hands up her legs and caress her ass, holding her close to him when her legs trembled. She couldn’t help but to snicker, resting her sweaty face on Richard’s chest, not believing they sneaked off to have some sort of a sex-marathon in the middle of work hours.

Honestly, it wasn’t the first time it happened. But it still made Ona feel a little bit guilty. Just a little bit.

“Are you alright?” Richard whispered in her ear, kissing her neck as he still held her in his arms.

“My legs feel like jello. And I’m sticky.” Ona didn’t want to look down. “And I need to clean up ASAP.”

Connor and Richard looked at each other, an idea already forming in their heads. They both glanced at Killian, who stared at them back. That wasn’t going to end well for Killian and he knew it. When those two played masterminds and he was the victim, it wasn’t fun. Usually.

“I think someone may be able to help you with the cleaning.” Connor stood up, dusting off his clothes.

“After all, you have been obedient. You deserve a reward.” Richard kept kissing her shoulders, following the trails of freckles.

“Let’s put that tongue to good use, shall we?”

Richard helped Ona walk over Killian, who was eagerly awaiting her with his mouth slightly open and eyes glued to Richard’s cum trickling down her thighs. Killian licked his lips, ready to blow her mind with his devilish tongue. He unconsciously tugged at the handcuffs.

He’d never say it out loud but he fucking loved this.

When Hank finds them later, going on their merry way to join the water-gun fight once again, he completely ignores the red mark on Ona’s neck, having an idea of why they disappeared for so long. Also, Richard forgot to button up the last button of his shirt.

Hank snorted, taking a sip of his beer. Kids. Let them have their fun.

#dbh #detroit become human #rk800 #rk900 #rk800-60 #ficlet #lemon

[gastricpierrot]

Title: Heartbeat

Series: Promare

Pairing: GaloLio

Rating: T

Summary:

Lio turns himself in after the final battle, the start of a new life he must get used to.

This is a story of how Lio Fotia navigates through the days that follow, learns that support comes in more forms than he’s ever familiar with, and deals with his alarmingly developing feelings for Galo Thymos.

Also on AO3

[Prologue][Chapter 1][Chapter 2][Chapter 3][Chapter 4][Chapter 5][Chapter 6]

[Chapter 7 (END)]

There’s scarcely a twitch in Galo’s expression.

“Oh. Um. Okay.”

“I’m being serious here, Galo,” Lio says, casually turning to thank the waitress as she places their food on their table as though he hadn’t said what he said. Galo runs a hand over his face, gesturing for him to not misunderstand with the other.

“I know. I... I just need a bit of time to process that.” He covers his mouth and takes a deep breath. Lio notices a wave of red gradually spreading from his ears to his cheeks. “This is bad. I really want to hug you right now.”

“It’s not the best place.” Some embarrassment is finally sinking in for Lio as well, though overshadowing that is a much stronger, much more intense sense of sheer, unadulterated fondness. “Bear with it just a little longer?”

Galo nods, but he refuses to meet his gaze. He absently shoves a forkful of food into his mouth, mumbling, “God, you’re so unfair, Lio. Why did you have to say that here and now...”

Lio doesn’t know either. He doesn’t know why he’d chosen this timing to tell him, why the words have insisted on spilling out before he even had a chance to ponder over them and their consequences. He's in love with Galo. The realization could’ve terrified him, could’ve sent him into fits of anxiety because what if that ruins everything between them? What if it’s just... not meant to be?

Yet right now, Lio has never felt as liberated. He doesn’t have to worry about what-ifs. He doesn’t have to fear anything when he’s with Galo.

They finish lunch at record speed, all the while hyperfocusing on their food and not exchanging even the slightest eye contact. Galo asks Lio if he’s got time once they’ve settled the bill, words blurred so badly together that Lio barely catches what he mutters. He responds that he’ll have the rest of the day free, he just maybe needs to get back by nighttime to do some last-minute revisions for a quiz.

Galo nods, then grabs Lio’s hand and holds on as he drags him along to go retrieve his bike. Lio keeps a bit of distance between himself and Galo when they both climb on, sensing Galo’s tension and not quite sure what he should do. He’d never imagine he’d even make it this far, honestly—much less how he should handle everything else that happens afterwards. What’s Galo thinking? How should he thread the now ambiguous boundary between them?

“Galo,” Lio begins at one point, deciding that perhaps it’s best to slowly talk it all out, but Galo only asks to trust him and wait.  

There’s really not much he can argue with, so Lio listens and slips back into the strange silence.

Galo brings him out of the bustling roads of the city, into a highway, and eventually to the forests near the hills in the outskirts. He parks his bike under a tree that flowers despite the winter; its branches heavy with bloom serving as a landmark with the large contrast to the barrenness around it. Lio climbs off first, then follows Galo as they continue their way to this unknown destination by foot along some beaten paths.

It’s even colder here than in the city. Lio tugs his jacket a little tighter around his body, nose and throat stinging from the cool air. It'd snowed in Promepolis during the height of its winter, and although most of the snow in the city has melted, patches of them still remain here. Untouched, barely even melting.

It takes a bit of time, but the trees eventually clear, and they come to stand before a frozen lake.

“This is...” Lio trails off, words lost to the breathtaking scenery before him. The lake’s surface is a pristine sheet of ice, reflecting the blue of the sky and glistening wherever sunlight hits. Opposite where they stand is the slope of a hill, one covered with an even denser forest of trees sprinkled with snow. Somewhere in the distance, a wild bird cry echoes through the air. The minutes seem to come to a standstill.

Galo’s told him about this place before, in one of the many insignificant conversations they’d shared to pass time, to get to know each other just a little more. Galo used to have a favorite lake he’d go to calm down when he gets much too agitated—but it had been the very same one they’d fallen into and completely evaporated during the whole Parnassus ordeal. The one now is the second lake Galo has managed to find and taken a liking to; he’d even once promised Lio to bring him here one day when there’s a chance.

And to think that the chance would be now, under these circumstances.

Galo proceeds to step onto the ice and make a show of inhaling huge, wheezing breaths; wildly swinging his arms and slapping his cheeks. He even hollers toward the distance for good measure as he skates in wide circles, getting whatever he’s been suppressing thoroughly out of his system. Lio quietly watches it all unfold, just a tad bit worried about the way he’s acting.

He really worked hard controlling himself back there, huh?

Galo does manage to calm down enough, eventually. It’s only then that he turns around, and stomps back to shore to place both hands on Lio’s shoulders.

“Right. Now let’s do that all over again,” he says, in all seriousness. Lio, understandably, blinks at him in abject confusion.

“Do what??”

Galo's ears start turning red once more. “Say the things you said earlier!!”

Lio is still a little taken aback, but his amusement brings a lopsided smile to his lips. “You want me to confess my feelings all over again?”

“T-The previous one doesn’t count because it wasn’t in the right time and place!!”

“Do you have to be so particular?” And such a hopeless romantic, on top of that. Lio finds himself barking out a laugh, sparks bursting within his chest as Galo sputters more excuses about wanting to react timelier and properly and all kinds of nonsense. Lio’s mirth fades as he listens to him ramble on, morphing into a pleasant tingle that spreads all the way to his fingertips. He takes a step forward, shutting Galo up the moment he closes the distance between them.

“I’ll say it as many times as you want to hear, Galo Thymos,” he states, holding his gaze as he reaches out to cup his cheek with his palm. “My heart’s on fire for your love.”

His voice comes out rawer than he expects, charged with so much emotion that he can’t seem to breathe right. He has the chance to hear Galo’s breath catch, to spot his eyebrows draw together—before he’s yanked forward and enveloped in a tight, almost desperate embrace.

“That’s not what you said,” Galo protests weakly. Lio smiles, struggling to free his other arm so he could hug back with just as much intensity.

“Same difference.”

“I can’t believe you actually just blurted all that so casually back there!” Galo’s sounds unnecessarily distressed. “What if I don’t feel the same about you!?”

“Hmm,” Lio gives it a brief, halfhearted ponder. “Then I’ll just eat my feelings until I die, I guess.”

“Liooooo!!!”

Lio lets out another laugh, only patting the back of Galo's head gently in response to that. Galo is still somber when he continues, arms hugging tighter by a fraction.

“But why me? You know I’m not—”

“You’re enough,” Lio insists. “You’re already more than I will ever deserve.”

“There you go again, yappin’ about deserving this, deserving that!” Galo immediately complains, moving to part them and face him properly as if he’s one to whine. “We’re having a Moment here so can’t you stop that for one hot second? Please??”

“Sorry.” Lio shrugs. “It’s still true, though.”

“Lio, I will kiss you if you don’t stop talking.”

“Can’t you do that even if I do?”

Galo obviously isn’t expecting that brazen return, immediately getting extremely flustered and making more incoherent noises. Lio calls his name once, just to get his attention for that split second.

Then he shifts his weight to his toes, and tilts his head up to press his lips against Galo’s.

The first kiss is just a peck, his eyes shut and breath held and Galo’s frozen in place.

The second kiss, Galo leans down and chases after his lips, their noses brushing as they try to adjust better to the unfamiliar posture and contact.

The third kiss, they hold each other closer, closer, and Lio’s heart soars.

xXx

As with everything else, Lio gets used to his new schedule and all its challenges.

He gets used to the headaches, the voices of his roommates, the taste of stale coffee he’s probably come to rely too much on to keep himself awake after the long days. He gets used even to the strain on his muscles, to the burn of ice on his skin, the weight of a gun in his hands. Everything, over time, he grows used to them all.

One of the more unexpected things is, though, the fact that Lio eventually chooses to specialize in command and support. His first choice had actually been learning how to pilot Gears, him thinking it’s probably not too difficult because Galo and his team make everything seem to smooth and natural. They’ve come so far with technological innovation, surely mecha suits are designed to seamlessly respond to their pilots’ wills. Surely all pilots must do is think of a certain movement and maneuver, and computers would interpret their brain signals and command the suits to respond. Surely, it can’t be too much harder than driving a normal vehicle.

Except it is. The first time Lio sits in the cockpit of their training Gear, he immediately notices how he's surrounded by a ridiculous number of knobs and cranks and handles. The good news is that the basic movements are mainly controlled a single pair of handles and pedals; the bad news is that Lio, for the life of him, can’t seem to understand how it’s all supposed to work in coordination. He almost launches himself out of the cockpit maybe about a hundred times through the first week.

He doesn’t even blame the instructor for later walking up to him and suggesting to consider transferring into another stream. Lio might fail his way out of training at this rate even if his grades for other classes are decent. So he ends up in the command and support course instead after some deliberation, and fortunately realizes he enjoys it much more than piloting. He’s eventually one of the top scorers for most mission simulations, his ability to take charge and lead calmly not lost despite all the time he’s spent inactive. He could still be brash and rely way too much on himself at times, too, but he knows it’s a work in progress. It will take time for him to unlearn these habits.

As for his relationship with Galo, nothing much has actually changed. They still hang out together when they have the chance, they still bicker, they still goof around and let loose through impulsive pizza binges. Perhaps the main difference is that their physical boundaries seemed to have thinned out; they hold hands more frequently now, they’re less awkward about huddling close together in public when it gets too cold, and the little pecks and kisses they exchange have begun to feel more comforting than embarrassing.

It's just the little things. The phone calls made through the payphone when he misses his voice, their outings that can now sometimes be called dates. The hair-touching, the hands on waists. Yet at the very core, it all still feels the same.

Three months eventually pass, through days of hard work, of frustration and doubt and unexpected fun.

Lio goes over his parts of the room one final time to make sure he hasn’t left anything behind, before zipping his duffel bag close and slinging its strap over his shoulder. His roommates have all left earlier in the afternoon after the graduation ceremony and a quick celebratory buffet at the cafeteria. He steps out and turns around to lock the door, swallowing the sudden sense of forlornness that assaults him.

It... really is over.

Three months isn’t a long time; it’s the daily hecticness that made it feel like it would never pass. Lio had somewhat expected it to resemble his time in detention to some degree, yet he ends up enjoying himself much more here. Training activities are miles more engaging than community service, he’s got Gueira and Meis with him this time, and it had been so much easier to get along with everyone else around him. Fire training hadn’t necessarily been an experience he genuinely wanted, but it’d turned out to be something he unconsciously needed. A sense of reconnection, a chance to act and feel his age.

A chance to simply be Lio Fotia, and not Lio Fotia of Mad Burnish.

Lio leaves after returning his keys and settling some final documental revisions at the office. His brothers have gone off just a bit earlier, hurrying to deal with some sudden issues with the apartment they’d managed to find and temporarily rent. Lio walks through the deserted hallways alone, trying not to think about missing the place too much. He exits the building, crosses the courtyard, and his pace once again quickens as he makes his way towards the gates.

Galo greets and congratulates him with a hug, one that’s warm and just a little suffocating. And it’s when Lio laughs, it’s when they part and he sees the infinite pride and affection in Galo’s gaze, that he feels like he’s finally come home again.

xXx

Early one particular morning not long after Lio’s completed his training, he nearly burns the eggs.

Galo reacts faster than any fire detector, rushing in to snatch the pan out of Lio’s hands and save the food before it all goes to waste. Lio apologizes, though he never quite manages to say more than an “I’m sorry.” He realizes that his mind is filled with static, his fingers trembling.

“You okay?” Galo asks when he notices his disquiet after plating their breakfast, waiting for him to nod before walking over to where he stands by the sink and circling his arms around his waist from behind. Lio sighs, leaning into the contact while he tries to get his thoughts in order.

“Just didn’t sleep too well,” he admits. He could feel the tremors from Galo’s chest when he responds.

“Nervous about your first day?” he asks, and snickers when Lio hums affirmative. He starts swaying side to side, coaxing Lio into some strange little dance. “Don’t worry too much about it, Lio! It’s not like it’s your first time meeting the team!”

Lio idly matches his movements, shifting his weight from left foot to right, right foot to left. “It’s still my first time doing the job, though.”

“You’ll be fineeee! You’re not expected to help out in operations so soon after joining, anyway,” Galo reasons. “And I’m sure the Cap’n and the girls would be more than excited to teach you how things work.”

“I’m just hoping I won’t disappoint them.” Lio broods. He truly hopes he wouldn’t hold the team back when it matters; he can’t drag them down when they too, have done so much for his sake even when they were still virtually strangers. Lio stands here as a result of their goodwill just as much as he does from Galo’s.

“It’s normal to struggle at the start when you’re still getting the hang of things,” Galo assures as he guides him to their table. “Some might take a little more time than others and that’s okay, too! Not everyone could be as cool as your boyfriend here!”

“Not everyone’s as reckless as my boyfriend here, either.” Lio reaches to pinch Galo’s nose lightly, fully familiar with the stunt he’d pulled on the very day he joined Burning Rescue. Rushing into danger with minimal preparation and scarcely a plan, then saving someone but still ending up being burnt in the process. It's truly something so on brand for him that it’s amusing.

Galo only laughs gently to his retort, shifting out of his grasp to nuzzle against his hair. “But you love me for that, firebug.”

It’s only recently that he’s learnt to utter that as a statement and not a question. It's only recently that he’s learnt to accept that gosh, yes, Lio does love him for that. He loves him for all the heart he has to give, for all the silly things he does, and for even more, even the parts of him he still struggles to love himself.

Galo’s voice is soft, husky with a wonder Lio understands too well. Often Lio would lie in Galo’s arms, surrounded by his warmth and comfort, filled with an unrelenting sense of disbelief that he’s where he is. Often their kisses would end with silence basked in the very same amazement, with awed gazes and hushed voices followed by heated touches desperate to make sure it all isn’t just a dream.

And it’s not. They’re here, where they’re meant to be, surely.

“Stop, you’re gonna make me lose my appetite even more,” Lio protests, though they both know it’s just another excuse on his part. Lio has never quite gotten used to the pet names just yet. Galo happily obliges, nonetheless, and they finally sit down to have their toast with eggs just a little overcooked.

They’re silent as they eat, as they often are. Don’t speak while you chew or you’ll bite your tongue, Galo would nag despite doing the very same thing himself. Lio savors the present simplicity, basks in the normalcy and warm morning sunlight seeping through the windows. He listens to the idle hum of the refrigerator, the soft drone of the ventilation system. The scent of their favorite hand soap wafts mutedly in the air.

Lio breathes. His hands have stopped shaking.

“Have you gotten everything?”

Galo asks later as he waits for Lio to tie his shoelaces at the entryway. Lio pulls the final knot tight, then stands up to pat his bag and pockets. ID, documents, a water bottle. A foldable umbrella, boxed leftovers from dinner the night before to be heated up for lunch. His wallet, keycard.

“I think so.” He seems to have brought all the important things, anyway.

Galo nods, then moves to push the front door open. He turns around, and holds out a hand to Lio.

“Let’s go, then!”

And it’s like this, hand in hand with Galo Thymos, that Lio takes his first step towards a new tomorrow.

#promare #galolio #liogalo #lio fotia #galo thymos #we're finally at the end laddies!!!! #its been a ride...wow #theres a slightly longer a/n in the ao3 post so if anyone wants to have a read there hhh #the song that inspired the fic is also linked there!! #tumblr messed with my blog layout tho... hope the new one's okay i havent really done anything i just picked one #that looks the closest to what i originally had #anYWAYS THANK YOU EVERYONE FOR READING RBIGN AND LIKING!! #SEE YALL AGAIN IN THE NEXT FIC!!! #fanfiction

[enaxii]

the art of falling in love

link to ao3 in the notes

summary: Dazai Osamu cannot love.

(Or so he says.)

The first time, they are 15. Dazai stands over the corpse of a dog, a bullet lodged though it’s head from the gun in his hands. The dog had been, for whatever peculiar reason, following him and Chuuya around the neighbourhood, but it was beginning to annoy Dazai with its relentless barking. Gun in hand, he found his solution to that particular problem.

“What the hell, shitty Dazai?!”

Despite deciding to put in effort to dispatch of this thorn himself, Dazai is being yelled at.

“It was just a goddamn dog, couldn’t you have left it alone?”

Chuuya’s glaring at him from under the brim of his hat, and he rolls up his sleeves before squatting down to cradle the dog’s carcass in his hands. Dazai watches, almost bemused, as Chuuya brings the dog to the sidewalk and quickly buries the dog with help from his Ability.

“Huh... You’re pretty upset over this. Why? There are millions of better dogs out there. That one was just an annoying stray.”

Chuuya glares at him.

“Yeah, well, it was just following us around, wasn’t it? It’s not like it was doing anything to us!”

At this, Dazai understands.

“You were attached to the dog, weren’t you?”

Chuuya splutters indignantly, but doesn’t deny the claim.

“Oh Chuuya, you must know that I can’t love, right~?”

He singsongs, dancing around Chuuya’s shriek of “What the hell, it’s not love-”, nimbly leaping out of reach of his kick.

“And besides, you’re my real dog, anyway~!”

Dazai sprints down the street with Chuuya yelling bloody murder, and the dog carcass lies forgotten in its grave.

The next time, they’re 18, and Odasaku is dead. Dazai feels- many things. Too many things, all jumbled up where before it was just a cold apathy. He’s never felt this numb, No Longer Human pulsing through his veins, but yet he’s never felt this... alive either, the rush of grief and determination, the final gunshot ringing through the air and-

“ODASAKU!”

Like lightning flashing through the sky, painting the heavens in a bright light before returning to its gloom, and a downpour begins, the clouds weeping perfect tears that drench the parched earth.

Dazai finds himself outside the mansion, rooted to the ground even as the rain pours around him, unable to move. His legs will not move, will not move , and instead, he collapses into the dirt, hand pressed to his mouth till he can feel the imprint of his teeth on his palm.

Dazai can’t breathe, can barely feel himself through the pounding of his heart and the pounding of thunder, a sudden crack of the skies splitting into half. It feels like the very cosmos are falling down around him, drowning him in the flare of stars so bright that he cannot look at it, and he feels like a flower wilting under the blinding light.

When the light clears, he finds himself still rooted to the spot by the gate, but there’s an umbrella held over his head and a jacket draped over his shoulders.

Chuuya stands beside him, in the rain, his expression unreadable.

“You really do love him, huh?”

Dazai tried to suppress a laugh, but it bubbles up in his throat anyway.

“S-silly Chuuya, I can’t love, remember?”

Dazai doesn’t know who he’s convincing, but Chuuya doesn’t reply. Instead, he stands in the rain, holding out an umbrella as he wordlessly watches Dazai.

When he decides to disappear barely a day later, Dazai doesn’t say goodbye.

And after that, they’re 22, and they’re on opposite sides of the battlefield.

Dazai’s smiling freely amongst the members of the Armed Detective Agency, and Chuuya’s doing whatever Executive business he needs to do in the Port Mafia.

They’re 22, and then suddenly it’s like they’re 15 because they’re fighting together, again. They are both there to rescue the twice-accursed Q and possibly prevent Yokohama from falling into mass destruction.

They (Chuuya) dispatch the first lineup of guards with laughable ease, and then Lovecraft decides to wake up and there’s really no more ease to laugh at.

They try some strategies that Dazai already knows will fail, and he casually shoves Chuuya towards their only ticket out of this situation.

The howl of the winds when Corruption activates tear trees from their roots, and Dazai watches the show with utmost interest. It has been, after all, a good 4 years since he last saw the hat rack, and with that, it has been a good 4 years since he’s seen Corruption. Chuuya shrieks unearthly shrieks when he summons the writhing mass of gravity, Arahabaki straining to leave its host and wreak havoc upon the world. Red dances across the skies and Chuuya’s skin, streaks that almost take Dazai’s breath away.

Dazai delays for as long as he possibly can, lets the odds of survival drop lower and lower still, before he finally activates the bomb and lets Chuuya take care of the rest.

“You’ll take me back to the extraction site...”

Chuuya’s smirk is painful and bloodstained, punching Dazai weakly in the chest before he finally loses the battle against sleep and falls against Dazai, unconscious.

Dazai sits there for a long time, Chuuya’s head in his lap and the remains of the forest around them. One hand rests awkwardly on top of Chuuya’s curls, and Dazai knows exactly what the pounding in his chest means.

“Silly, I can’t love.”

He says it in a whisper, and he’s almost terrified, the most terrified he’s been in a long, long, time.

Dazai leaves Chuuya in the clearing, but folds up the jacket and gloves before he leaves, smoothing out the creases in the silken fabric.

He leaves no message but the untouched hat, placed neatly on top of the pile.

They’re 23.

The Decay of Angels have descended upon the world, and they bring with them countless Rats that almost overwhelm them with sheer numbers.

Yet again, the Port Mafia and the Agency find themselves in an alliance, and yet again, Dazai and Chuuya find themselves on the same side of the battlefield.

Yokohama is in chaos, bodies lining the streets in a red carpet of blood, waiting for the next strike of the goddess to smite them all.

Dazai has not slept in a week, staying up to plan and plan and plan, to predict his enemy’s moves and then his own moves and then his enemy’s moves to those moves, and- and it shows in the bags under his eyes, the tremor of his hand, the shake of the marker that falls from his grasp one too many times.

Kunikida decides that Dazai is more use sleeping than doing work, and when Dazai refuses to sleep, Kunikida tells him to at least take a break.

Dazai takes a walk.

He literally runs into Chuuya, parrying against an entire mob of Rats and whatever civilians the Decay of Angels managed to claim and control.

The past weeks have been hell for the entire of Yokohama, and it shows in Chuuya's struggle against what normally would have been an easy job.

Chuuya takes one look at Dazai, yells “Shitty mackerel!” and activates Corruption right there and then.

Dazai tries to enjoy the view of Chuuya mowing down enemy after enemy, but his eyes cannot focus and his legs cannot stand. He barely manages to avoid the gravity bombs and make it to Chuuya unscathed, gripping Chuuya on the wrist to put the god within him into slumber.

Chuuya collapses against Dazai, and his own legs finally give. Dazai falls forward, and they both tumble to the hole-riddled pavement, Chuuya’s back cracking against the concrete.

He lets his pain be known through a sharp exhale and a colourful curse, but Dazai’s mind is foggy. Everything swims before him, his tongue sitting dry in his mouth.

“Oi, Dazai-”

Chuuya’s eyes widen, his gaze locking on something behind them. In a swift motion, Dazai feels himself being lifted and his back slammed down onto the pavement, Chuuya twisting his body around his.

Bang.

Chuuya chokes and coughs up blood onto Dazai’s face, and crumples against Dazai’s chest, giving him a full view of one man, one remaining survivor despite the gaping hole in his side, slumping to the floor, gripping a smoking gun.

“Chuuya.”

Dazai grips Chuuya by the shoulder, desperation digging his nails into his skin. The fog in his mind clears, adrenaline pulsing through his numb body to focus his eyes on the spreading patch of red on the front of Chuuya’s jacket.

“Chuuya, god, please-“

There’s tears in the corners of his eyes now, liquid mixing with the bitter copper blood on his face. Dazai shakes Chuuya, because please, please, not him, not him too, never him, not yet-

Thunder cracks across the skies, and Chuuya’s eyelids flutter, his gaze slowly trailing across Dazai’s face.

He inhales, coughs, and retches, spitting out another mouth of blood, but yet there’s almost a lazy smile on his face.

“Huh... What’s with that face, shitty Osamu?”

Dazai’s breaths hitch, the vice on his heart closing tighter and tighter till it almost feels like he’s the one dying instead, suffocating in the open air.

“Guess... guess you can love after all, huh?”

Chuuya coughs again, once, twice, and then his breaths stutter, stutter, stutter-

and he stills.

Dazai screams, then, lightning flashing to let loose the barrage of rain from weighted clouds.

Please.

Please.

He hugs Chuuya close to him, warm blood still seeping out slowly, the rain soaking them both and washing away the red that stains the floor.

#bungou stray dogs #soukoku #dazai osamu #chuuya nakahara #dazai #chuuya #major character death #my writing

[texthemess]

Another love, 

sup friends. this is a small piece i wrote for myself because i love to bring the angst with some light fluff potentially leading to other things. this wasn’t requested but i hope you guys like it as much as i did writing it. 

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

(gif credit: briennesjaime )

It was cold. God was it cold. Why did she always do this to herself? She couldn’t just move somewhere warm year round. Snow littered the ground and breath took to the night skies. Thoughts fell back to days as a child with her brother. They would lift their heads to the night sky and breathe out harshly as if they were some sort of winter dragons. Scarf wrapped tightly around her neck as strawberry blonde hair waved in the wind. Cheeks blood flushed and nose frozen. A sniffle as she reached up and rubbed her nose.

This was the last time she was gonna leave the apartment when it was this cold. She could practically feel her soul freezing over. Not that it was the warmest at times. A silent snort in response to her own joke within her head. God Karen get it together. Yet she couldn’t help it. The night streets were quiet at this time. Nothing but the wind whispering in her ears and the odd couple walking arm in arm on the other side. Somes blood so full of alcohol it was as if they could just take their coats off and walk freely. 

It was a long walk from the Nelson and Murdock building to her apartment. That was New York for you. She didn’t even own a car at that point. It was either walk everywhere or find a cab. No use in spending gas money for a car when the nearest gas station was outside the cities edge.

She didn’t always walk home but that night she stayed late. One would always say, don’t walk alone at night Ms. Page, and her honest opinion at that point, she had already seen it all. There was that time she chased a bunch of boys off for cat calling a girl. She didn’t even need to get involved, she put herself into the situation. All to what? Wave her gun around? Prove a point? She didn’t really know.

Heels clicked against cold cement, her focus keeping her from slipping on patches of black ice. Curse the winter. Curse the snow. Curse Hells Kitchen. For something named as such, one would think it would be warm. One would be wrong.

A small yawn escaped cold lips. No more late nights Karen. Promise me. Light eyes blinked slowly as she ascended the stairs to the front door of her building. Keys pulled from purse as she fumbled with them. Hands frozen and unfeeling. Opening and closing her fist a few times over to get the blood flow going, she finally picked the correct key and inserted it into the lock. Something paused her, not even into her front door yet and she felt something was off.

Turning the knob she entered slowly. Closing and locking the door behind her. The warm air of the apartment was inviting. God all she wanted to do was slip into a warm bed and forget about the day. The air was off, thick with change. Hand slipped into her coat pocket where her tiny hand gun had taken residence. Slowly pulling it out and positioning herself she walked. Slowly. Heel against hardwood floor. Step after step.

Light from the fire place flickered on the floor down the hall. Swallowing hard she approached. Standing next to the entrance of the living room, back against the wall, she inhaled quietly to herself. Eyes fluttering shut as she could hear her own heartbeat in her ears. Holding her breath she flung her body around the corner gun aimed, hair brushed against rose cheeks. Suddenly she found her air as she inhaled deeply and lips parted. Eyes swelled with tears as she gazed upon Frank Castle.

Frank had used the key she gave him, entered her house, and attempted to what she thought was clean himself. For there he sat, face beaten, cut, blood streaming from his lips.

Gun was gently placed on the side table before she dropped to him, numb fingers brushing long locks behind red ears as she reached for him, ‘ frank, frank omg frank. Are you okay? Hey hey hey. It’s me. It’s Karen. What happened? ‘

Hands moved from chest, to shoulder, to face, honestly she couldn’t tell exactly what was going on. Where he was hurt, if he was even awake? He hadn’t said anything but a faint groan. She could feel her heart sink into her stomach. How much more of this could his body actually take? He was going to kill himself one day. And she didn’t know if she could watch.

Without knowing where to start she ditched her jacket and scarf freeing herself from the now warm fire next to them. When she noticed, he wasn’t wearing a coat. A long sleeve black shirt was in place. Forearms covered in blood and tiny cuts. Oh frank.. she eyed him top to bottom and decided to start there. She reached down and removed his boots. Undoing the laces one at a time before ditching them to the side. A nearby hand towel she assumed he grabbed before slipping away, she ditched her own heels, ran to the kitchen to grab a bowl of water and returned.

Soaking the towel she dabbed and wiped at his arms cleaning them of the drying crimson. Replacing the towel to the water and ringing it out. Now bright red taking over the once clear bowl. Reaching up she began to wipe his face. Slowly, carefully. She had seen him wake from nightmares fists clenched ready to go. If that happened here she was sure to be going down. She couldn’t blame him though. Having been okay once she would wake up with a black eye.

It seemed an eternity of wiping, washing off, she had since removed his shirt as well. Surprised he still didn’t wake. And there, a big contributor to the source. A gash alongside his collarbone. As well as a mark on his side. Oh frank...you can’t keep doing this...this endless battle...

As she reached to touch the area in question, he woke. To his feet he bounded fists clenched, body at the defense, he fumbled around growling to the warm air as he took in his entire surroundings. Karen, at the same time, had jumped to her feet hands up to assure him, ‘ frank hey it’s me!! It’s me!! Calm down babe...calm down... you’re safe. ‘

Her heart felt as if it were to leap from her chest when his brown gaze finally met with hers. A sigh of relief as she gave a warm smile. Tears welling in light eyes as she slowly approached him. Hands reaching and gently caressing his shoulders. It was as if in an instant he calmed. She could feel every muscle of his frame lower, calm themselves. Once strained, no longer. He stood there, silent, catching his breath, “ Karen... “

Oh how he said her name. How it fell from rough lips like the sweetest of sounds she could possibly ever hear. It was like silk sheets against soft skin to her. Intoxicating and drowning her in every feeling she could ever know. Another soft exhale she pulled him close and placed a gentle kiss upon forehead before leaning her own just there.

Eyes fluttered closed as they stood, just a moment. His hand reached out and grabbed her wrist gently. Squeezing lightly. With no control, no malice, just, reassurance. She was real. Standing there before him. Real.

‘ please, sit back down. Let me take care of you, ‘ she motioned for him to sit where he had been just moments ago. Helping him down as he winced and cursed beneath his breath. Glancing down he hissed at the open wounds that scattered his collar bone and side. They were pretty bad, but not the worst he’s had.

After settling him down once again, Karen made for the kitchen to fetch the first aid kit Claire gave her. One of those, I can’t take of a bleeding Matt Murdock anymore. You do it, it’s your problem now. And that she did. She had learned real quick between all of these men in her life just how quickly and easily to stitch something up. It was exhausting and frustrating. But at times she found herself just as stubborn and hard headed as even them. Maybe, dare she say it, worse at times.

As she sat next to him and began to set everything up, she cleared her throat and looked over the wound on his side, ‘ you going to tell me what happened? Or am I gonna have to just hear about a bar fight tomorrow? ‘

He wasn’t very good at it. The whole telling her exactly what happened and what he was chasing after. He trusted her, but he also knew her. She would go looking for answers. Attempt to help in ways he didn’t want her to. Putting herself in danger. So therefore, he constantly made it difficult for her to know things.

Another wince as she started cleaning off the open wound. Damn that water, damn that alcohol, damn it all. Lord how he was tired. Leaning his head back to rest upon the couch arm eyes shut tight as he let her do what she needed muttering curse words under his breath to himself, “ Karen you can’t help me with this. I don’t want you getting hurt, “ ‘ but just tell m—, ‘ “ no. I said no, “

A silent huff of frustration as brows furrowed towards the man before her. How stubborn he was. But god she loved him. Every inch of him. Clearing her throat she reached up and brushed hair behind her ear. Only for hands to fumble around and mess with a needle and thread. This was gonna hurt she knew it, but it had to happen. Reaching up she placed hand beneath his chin gloved thumb brushing against his rough skin. A faint smile crossed both their lips as she inhaled deeply, ‘ this isn’t gonna feel pretty, ‘

Strong hand reached over and gripped her arm in reassurance, “ its fine, you’re here, “ his voice was low, tired, broken. But it had a sense of care in it. A love only for her at this point in the universe. Whispered ever so sweetly into her senses. Always a flash of guilt within her chest over his family. She wouldn’t even know Frank Castle if his family wasn’t brutally murdered. And though she thanked the heavens for him, if she could give him all of that back, she would. No second thought. It pained her every time she looked into those deep brown eyes.

But with that she started. No need to waste more precious time. She could stitch this up, bandage him, and his body would have to do the rest. 

There they sat, in the silence. Nothing but the odd wince from Frank Castle and the crackling of the fire. At one point he looked over into the flames. She wondered what he was thinking. But left him to his thoughts. He wouldn’t tell her anyways. That’s their relationship. She doesn't ask, and he tells her when he’s ready. If ever. Hand over hand, each pull of the thread tightening the stitch. What seemed an eternity later and she tied off the knot and cut the excess off. Clearing her throat she pulled her gloves off, discarded all the unneeded pieces, and sat examining his body once again. 

‘ well the good news is, you’re all stitched up and this other scratch is just that. A scratch. It doesn’t need stitches and will heal on its own. Let me bandage this real quick, ‘ dark brown eyes gazed upon her face, now fully colored once more from the warmth of the fireplace. He watched as each stray hair fell and traced her face as it did. Eyelashes fluttered and focused on her task at hand. It was as if he could feel his own heartbeat in his ears. Swallowing he cleared his throat and glanced from her beauty to his beast. 

A white patch of gauze tapped upon his side. Light stippling of crimson began to stain the white as she patted it ever so gently and lovingly, ‘ there. good as new mister, ‘ she gave a faint smile and glanced up to him. Before she knew it, rough hand was cupping her chin and pulled her close to him as he planted a gentle kiss upon her lips. Though surprised, she thrived there in that moment. Inhaling deeply as she closed her eyes. She could get used to that.

“ thanks, Karen..I don’t really know what I would do without you you know, “ he smiled warmly as thumb brushed against her skin tenderly. She found herself getting lost in his presence in that moment as she simply stared, stared into those dark, mysterious eyes. Her breath faint and lost. Suddenly she came crashing back down to earth as she cleared her throat and smiled playfully. Hand brushing stray hairs behind ear as she pulled from him. Hand tapping on his shoulder as she rose to her feet and then held her hands out to him. 

There were times she found herself falling too hard for Frank Castle. And this, unfortunately, was one of those moments. She had to pull herself back to reality. They couldn’t truly be together, could they? Gah, such questions floating around in her head, she couldn’t silence them and it was a struggle. 

‘ well we can’t let you sit here in your own, or others, blood. I need you to take a shower mister. I’ll give you a throw away towel so you can clean up your mess, ‘ she was half teasing half serious. The last time she had blood in her apartment it didn’t end well for her. And yet it wasn’t even her fault. But she’s a far different Karen now, she’s not stupid. Grabbing his hands and pulling him to his feet as he groaned out, she gave him another pat on the chest and nodded towards the upper level, ‘ you know where the bathroom is. I’ll clean up here, ‘

Before she had a chance to turn and start her clean up, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her to him once again. Lips crashing upon her own. She felt all the air in her chest leave in that one swift instant as she closed her eyes and gave into his touch. Her body shook as she felt every muscle tense in his body. His shoulders, his back, his triceps, his biceps, it was then Karen Page in her fogged state realized her hands were scouring his body without her meaning to. 

He pulled away and a faint whimper left her lips in protest. They were now cold without his touch. Gathering herself as he gazed upon her face, which was now red once again and she couldn’t blame it on the cold any longer, he spoke out to her and her alone, “ how about you join me instead and I’ll help you clean up, later. “ oh miss Page, you’re in for it now. 

She nodded once more against her will, her body simply reacting to the entire situation around her. Not that she didn’t want this, she did, but the back of her mind was so conflicted about everything. Yet she took a chance and simply, let go. Reaching down she grabbed his hands, gripped them gently, and lead him upstairs. Free hand reaching up and sweeping her hair all to one side to expose her rose tinted skin to him. An inviting sign he was sure of it. 

They reached the bathroom what seemed an eternity later as she started the water in her free fall shower head and turned to him. They simply stood there a moment taking in around them. Reaching out she traced circles down his crimson stained chest, her own heart racing in her throat. He cornered her against the counter, hands on hips as he lifted her and placed her gently upon the stone. Lips against hers once more as he inhaled deeply taking in every scent of her. Frank Castle was a strong lover, but this was their first time, together. He was to take is slow and loving. 

The sound of the water trickling down the stone of the shower and into the drain filled her senses as she lost track of time and surrounding. In one swift movement before she knew it the two were completely undressed and tangled in each others arms upon the counter. Breath against her lips he spoke deeply to her, “ at any point you change your mind, tell me, “ she didn’t hesitate and gripped him close, ‘ just love me... ‘ 

--------------------------------------------------------------

okay hello hello. things are hot and heavy. i’ve never wrote smut just as fan fiction without being asked so i’ll leave this with you guys and you let me know if you want part two haha. but this was just something i had had in mind after writing the last frank and karen piece. i went a little overboard. 

i hope you guys love. 

#frank and karen #frank castle #karen page #Daredevil #the punisher #marvel #marvel netflix #fanfiction #fan fiction writing #frank x karen fan fiction #jon bernthal #matt murdock #daredevil fan fiction #the punisher fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #i love frank and karen so much #blood #fluff #potential smut #smut stuff maybe #part two ask me

[o-captain-elcapitan]

Steel Horses - Chapter Two

Title: Steel Horses Author: ElCapitan Game: Dragon Age Characters/Pairing: M!Adaar x Dorian Disclaimer: All recognizable content belongs to Bioware

Summary -

Valo-Kas M.C. is not a 1% motorcycle club. The security work that they do is above board, legal and licensed, squeaky f*cking clean. What their clients get up to, however, is none of their business. And their strict “look the other way, ask no questions” policy is what keeps them in business. That is until a new Tevinter client puts the MC in federal cross hairs. Ozet Adaar wants to protect his sister and save his club. When a Tevinter ambassador knocks him on his ass his heart is pulled in yet another direction and there’s nothing more terrifying than knowing that he can’t protect them all. His twin, Ozena, might consider herself “barely a mage” but that’s still enough to damn her if the wrong people find her out. Federal scrutiny is the last thing they need. Maker only knows if they can shake it with their lives in tact.

Read on Ao3

[Prologue]

Ozena

Pulling her attention from Zet’s back, she left her twin to his confident forward march and focused on the shipping containers stacked like building blocks around them. As the MC strode toward the waiting humans, Ozena did a mental rollcall of the heat she was packing. The nervous energy that had been cycling through sailor knots with her intestines now had the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end, too. The rusted jumbo blocks were piled high, a towering mazework of mismatched storage units forgotten and left to rot on Seagrave’s restless coast. Salty sea air was winning the fight against the metal containers, devouring them slowly. 

Her passing curiosity on the contents of all these shipping units was an afterthought, irrelevant. Ozena’s only and immediate concern had to do with their surroundings and the blaring warning bells of her instincts on edge. She had the sense that they were being watched by more than the humans anticipating their arrival. 

When Ashir caught her gaze and dipped his chin, Ozena was already moving, ready for the wordless command and eager to act on it. She peeled away from Valo-Kas to check the perimeter, the east most containers her responsibility while Nysris investigated the west. An odd choice if only her officer’s patch was considered. But almost everything Ozena knew about weapon handling and close quarter combat she’d learned from the half-vashoth. Nys was the club’s treasurer, but she could have been Sergeant just as easily. Her training was as extensive as Ash’s. Unlike Ozena, who’d picked up everything she knew from the club’s other members. 

She removed the 9mil from the holster under her cut and the hunting knife from the sheath strapped to her thigh. The hand gripping the knife steadied her gun hand as she slunk into the shipping yard’s shadows. They should have done a perimeter sweep before meeting these Ferelden wannabe tough guys. Ashir had said as much, but there hadn’t been time. Now she wished that he’d insisted, because the time and location of this meeting were all the right components for an ambush. 

Resisting the urge to light up the night, Ozena searched the darkness gathered between each stack of shipping containers. She didn’t want to give away her position with floating orbs of sourceless light, not if it’d cost her the advantage of sneaking up on someone. Behind her, at the meeting she’d left to cooler heads, came the deafening discharge of firing guns rat-tat-tatting into the night. She glanced over her shoulder, pausing her search to gauge the sound. Ozena had seen the human remove the rifle from the case Zet had been holding, she knew it had to be him, taking the thing for a test drive. But she held her breath and strained her ears anyway, as if she could interpret the tone of the gunfire and identify its intent. 

Just a kid with a new toy, taking it out for a spin. 

She’d all but convinced herself of her club’s safety when something moved out of the corner of her eye. Ozena aimed her gun at the shifting shadows, too late. A forceful energy slammed into her and threw her into the shipping container behind her. Her muscles went taut on impact and the barrel of her gun illuminated, lightning and thunder that was followed by a pained shout. She was the first to gather her bearings and flung herself into the fight, lowering her gun and raising her knife as the figure ducked to the side then stepped in closer, their fingers glossy as they held their limp arm. 

Something primordial rippled in her, a radiant energy that flexed; like recognizing like. Ozena reached for that effervescent glow. A drop was pulled from the shallow pool and manifested along her surface. Just as the figure hurled themself at her, brandishing a shard of ice that gleamed as sharp as her own knife, a layer of bark formed on her skin. 

Ozena lifted her arm as they moved. The added layer of oaked armor deflected the ice shard the hooded mage flung at her. She side stepped their tackle and raised her knee to catch them in the gut before they could tumble past her. When they doubled over, gasping for breath, she slammed her elbow into the back of their neck. The mage collapsed to the ground and Ozena re-holstered her gun before she flipped them onto their back. 

Lifting her palm, she tapped again into the small pool of primal power. A small globule of pale green light took shape in her hand, a floating orb that shone weakly in the dark and only gave off just enough light to see by as she crouched down on top of the mage and yanked their hood back. One hand was held up in surrender while the other pressed down on his bleeding shoulder. Her hunting knife on his throat kept him still as she scoured his human features. 

She ripped down the collar of his coat then peeled his bottom lip away from his teeth. “Who sent you?” demanded Ozena, still searching him for colors. 

“P-please,” coughed the human, raised hand trembling. 

No. Not trembling. Moving. 

Too late she noticed the glif he’d subtly drawn into the air. The now glowing sigil pulsed and Ozena was flung back again, thrown fifteen feet like a damn ragdoll as the mage scrambled onto his feet and disappeared into the shadows before she could think to mark him with her magic. She slammed hard into another storage unit. The collision punched the air out of her lungs. Ozena caught onto the container’s rust roughened exterior to keep from falling while her brain did a hard reboot and tried to get the breathe-in-breathe-out cycle going again. Distantly she registered the deafening exchange of gunfire cracking nearby. 

Ozet. The club. This was an ambush after all. 

Coughing, she pushed away from the cargo container and stumbled toward the sound. Every step closer was surer, more steady than the last. There was a clarity to her heartbeat, a certainty to her desperation. Ashir called it a battle calm, and the other once-soldiers in Valo-Kas agreed that it was a real thing. Time slowed, darkness lifted, Ozena’s mind was suped up on NOS. Her instincts took hold and everything else moved onto the back burner. 

She only realized that she’d freed her gun when she lifted it with steady hands and squeezed the trigger. The hooded figure on top of a crate stack fell from his perch. His wet thump landing went unnoticed as Ozena lined another shot. There was another figure behind Valo-Kas, another mage casting a barrage of spells at their backs, as if they were pulling each attack from the tome levitating before them. She squeezed the trigger, unloading a rattle of gunfire and each bullet slammed into a shield they’d erected around themself. 

Stepping forward as she shot, she knew her clip would be empty before she could get that barrier down. There was hope, though, when she noticed the cracks in the forcefield. The magic was crumbling under the assault. Fissures spider webbed over the bubble and, when he finally turned his attention onto her, Ozena’s barkskin deflected the glowing missiles he hurled her way. 

The shell encapsulating him disintegrated in a burst of light and Ozena lowered her head before charging him down. She rammed into him, horns first, and knocked him off his feet. Before he could gasp for breath she sat on his chest, grabbed hold of either side of his head, and beat it into the cement. Once, twice, again and again, until his body went limp beneath her. Until blood pooled like ink and his head came away lighter from the ground, if stringy when she pulled it back. 

“Pull back, pull back!” Shokrakar sounded the retreat and it was the near panic in her voice that snapped her out of her battle calm. 

The world slid into focus with screaming and exploding weapons. She scanned the scene as she moved for cover behind a shipping container, scouring the slaughter ground for her club. They were easy to locate in the chaos, an organized unit, a localized tempest. Shok and Zet were guarding their client, the small Tevinter woman tucked under Zet, between him and the crate they were both ducked behind. Shokrakar and the client's body guard were behind a nearby stack of crates, each peeking from cover whenever there was an opening to offer cover fire as the other members worked their way back from the gunfight. 

By the dead humans splayed near the docks, she knew that this business meet was a bust. All Valo-Kas cold do now was get the client out alive. And, more importantly, themselves. 

Ozena slid the empty magazine from it’s compartment, letting it fall to the ground in a clatter. A fresh metal jacket glided into place and locked there by a bump from the heel of her palm. She leaned out from behind cover, barrel first, and added to the cover fire. They needed to get to their bikes, but she wasn’t going to go anywhere without her brother. 

One by one, Valo-Kas drew back. Between reloads they found cover further away from the docks, within the walls of shipping containers. She kept her weapon trained on the elevated shooter. Before she could wish that she had a deeper pool of magic, or a more refined hold on the magic she did have, blood misted from his chest as two shots hit home and dropped him out of the fight. She was better with a gun anyway. 

Nys touched her shoulder as she passed, instructions in a squeeze she barely felt. But Zet was still out there and she wouldn’t budge. With the rest of the club retreating a safe distance away, Shok and Zet finally peeled away from their crates after giving their client and her driver coverfire. Once the two were safe, Valo-Kas’ president and vice president slunk between the containers before they could get pinned down. And with them on the move, Ozena also made a mad dash for their waiting bikes. Gunfire and shouting still sounded from behind them, but none of them looked back. 

As she sprinted through the shipping yard toward their motorcycles, the roar of several engines joined the night’s deadly cacophony. She was racing toward her own bike when a scream stopped her in her tracks. Ozena turned back to watch the driver fall face first to the ground. His back was a mess of mangled flesh and shredded fabric. Their client struggled from Zet’s holdas he half dragged her toward the SUV. She managed to slip his grasp, ducking under his arm to race toward the fallen elf. 

Ozena’s focus left the screaming woman and panned over to the hooded figure who’d picked up one of the heavy weapons their client had brought for show and tell. Her heart stopped and blood chilled to ice as she watched him lift the weapon to his chest and line up a shot. Zet lurched forward, arms outstretched, ready to throw himself between the client and a spray of bullets. 

‘NO!’  she screamed from the depths of her soul, unsure and uncaring if the word managed to claw up her throat and tear through the night as well. Arms thrown out, hands splayed in front of her, Ozena emptied all that remained of her magic into protecting her twin. She imagined a second skin, not of bark like hers, but something otherworldly, impenetrable, pure hermetic power as unbreakable as their bond. 

Ozet’s skin flashed with a vibrant blue glow that dimmed as her magic settled over him. 

The moment it did the maelstrom was unleashed. The machine gun’s barrel sparked white. A ceaseless cracking cut like a machete through the night, vicious and deadly. Zet threw himself in front of it just as the hooded figure sprayed the night with a flesh shredding volley of lead. There was a squelching sound of pierced skin and blood spray, and Ozena screamed in horror, convinced her too shallow pool of magic had failed her, failed him, had damned them both. 

But Zet’s skin flashed blue again and again, a strobing light that was followed by the clatter of bullets falling to the concrete around him. 

Before she could process the heaving breaths of his curled form protecting their client, a replying crack shot from behind her. The machine gun slipped from the hooded figure’s hands. His hood fell back with his head, revealing a hole between his eyes. He collapsed to the ground and Ozena was moving before his body made impact, racing for her brother as Shok shouted commands. 

“Get her the fuck out of here!”

Ozet stood from his crouch with the human in his arms. He saw her running his way and issued his own orders. “The keys.”

“On it,” she said, sprinting past her brother toward the dead elf. She skidded to a stop beside his body and turned him onto his mutilated back to reveal a front that wasn’t much prettier. Patting his pockets down, she found his keys just as more hooded figures appeared from between the shipping containers. She didn’t wait for them to unleash their guns or magic. Ozena shot back onto her feet and scrambled for the same SUV Zet was running toward. 

“Zet,” she shouted as she neared him. When he turned she said, “Trade me,” and tossed him the keys.

He caught them in the hand under the human’s knees, who he slid into her arms once Ozena had stopped in front of him. Zet opened the back passenger door and she climbed in with the human in tow. The door slammed shut before she was fully settled. Outside Ozet shouted, “Go, go, go,” and the roar of revving engines met his command, then the crack of gunfire popped in rebuttal. 

Zet slammed into the driver’s seat. The engine started with a soft rumble, the machinery too expensive, manufactured for silence and elegance that could never match the bassy roar of a motorcycle’s V-twin engine they were used to. When he stepped on the gas it shot forward without a gurgle of protest. He didn’t look away from the night darkened road ahead when he asked, “How’s she doing back there, Zen?” The question was followed by the scraping sound of bullets cutting through metal and shattering glass. 

She didn’t answer, couldn’t answer. Ozena stared desperately at the human bleeding all over the luxury leather seats. She was choking on it. Crimson dribbled from her mouth, it stained her teeth as she coughed it up. Ozena moved her hands from where she was holding them to her middle. 

A murmured, “Fuck,” left her as she looked up from the human’s abdomen to her tearful brown eyes. 

“Well?”

She cut him off with a harsh, “ Shhh ,” and placed her hands where the woman’s had just been. To her brother, she instructed, “Let me concentrate,” and shut her eyes to do just that. 

Taking deep, slow breaths, she reached again for that ever glowing ember, but it was dim, so fucking dim. All that was left was the smoldering glow of a candle starved of air, all but extinguished if not for sheer stubbornness. She harnessed it anyway, gathering the dredges of magic she still had left and poured it into the human. Thinking mending thoughts, of flesh stitching together, blood receding, smooth, unblemished skin, her hands glowed with a white, purifying energy. The light speared dimly between the cracks of her fingers, from the tight space between her hands and the woman’s middle. It was healing magic, and it wasn’t enough. 

The wound was stitching together too slowly. She’d lost too much blood. There was too much damage. Tears streamed from the corners of her eyes and into her dark hair. Long lashes fluttered and she groaned, sobbing, still choking on her blood. Her near black eyes were on Ozena’s face. She tried to speak but the effort looked like agony. It took too much out of her. The woman blinked and her gaze was past Ozena, distant and unseeing, the life draining from them with every second. 

“No, no, no, no. Come on, you Tevinter bitch. Don’t you die on me.”

“Zen.”

Ignoring her brother, Ozena moved her bloody hands from the woman’s middle to the space between her breasts and started doing chest compressions. “Don’t. You. Dare. Die. You. Stupid. Fucking. Bitch.” Each word was punctuated by the forceful press of her stacked palms to the woman’s sternum. After she breathed into her mouth, she started again.

She barely noticed when Ozet pulled off to the side of the road, just kept doing chest compressions to the unmoving body staring blankly at the ceiling. The passenger door opened to let in a wave of cold air, and Ozena didn’t look up to see her brother standing there, staring. She already knew what he was going to ask, what he’d suggest, as if she hadn’t already considered it. 

“I’m tapped,” she grunted between clenched teeth, still not looking up from the Tevinter woman that had almost gotten them all killed. “There’s nothing left.”

Zet’s hand settled on top of both of hers, stopping her from another round of compressions. “Enough, Zen,” he said gently, pulling both her hand and her attention away from the dead woman in the backseat until her gaze met his. “She’s dead. It’s over. There’s nothing you can do.”

He held his hand out to her and Ozena hesitated just long enough to glance down at those dark, vacant eyes before she put her hand in his and let him help her out of the SUV. She gulped down fresh air then doubled over with her hands on her knees. The wave of nausea and exhaustion that hit her wasn’t because she'd seen a woman die right in front of her. She was drained and her body was punishing her for it. There was nothing left and if she tried to force it she wouldn't be able to keep her dinner down. 

Ozet rubbed her back as she gulped down the cold night air. It wasn’t long before the rumbling of motorcycles closed in on them and she’d rather not be hacking up the whole of her stomach while the club deliberated their next move. 

Ozet

He was rubbing circles onto Ozena’s back when the rest of the club pulled up to the SUV and dismounted their bikes. A breath of relief eased out of him after a quick head count confirmed that all of Valo-Kas was accounted for. Prepared as he’d been for the night to go to shit, he still hadn’t anticipated casualties, and maybe his relief made him a bastard, but he wouldn’t apologize for being glad that his people weren’t counted among them. His gaze dropped down to his twin, who still had her hands braced on her knees as she breathed through her nausea. 

It’d been a close thing. Too close. This couldn’t happen again.

Shokrakar approached, gravel crunching under her motorcycle boots, her gaze on their faces before she glanced toward the open back passenger door. “The girl?”

“Dead,” he supplied with a shake of his head.

“Shit,” grumbled the president as she rubbed a ring covered hand over her mouth and jaw. “Shit!”

Zet agreed with the sentiment. This was bad for them. Dead clients weren’t the best representation of the quality of their security work. Not to mention the mess they’d been left with. A body and his and Ozena’s prints all over the bloody, bullet hole riddled vehicle that was probably a rental and would be reported stolen sooner or later. 

What a fucking shitshow. 

Patting the front of his leathers, Zet reached into his cut’s inside breast pocket and pulled free the pack of cigarettes and lighter he kept there. He tapped the cigarettes to his thigh a few times before lifting a butt to his mouth and holding it between his lips as he offered the pack to Ozena. She pushed off of her knees with murmured thanks and, while she picked one out for herself, he thumbed the flint wheel behind the shield of his hand. The flame was joined by an exhale of smoke, and he kept it burning long enough for Zen to light the tip of her own cancer stick before he flipped the lighter shut and returned everything to the pocket he’d pulled them from. 

Around them, others were also lighting up. Apparently they weren’t the only ones that needed a nicotine bump. After the night’s many close calls he knew that more than a few would want to drown the tension with Sword Swallowers and alcohol, and there’d be plenty of both waiting at the clubhouse for their return. But first there was a mess to clean up. 

To Shok he said, “I’ll get rid of the car and the body, but Zen’s and my bikes are still at the shipping yard.”

She glanced over to the elf, a command in the question posed as his name. “Ash?”

Dark eyes shifted between him and his twin. Thoughtfully, he supplied, “Four of us can double up, ride back to the wharf and bring your bikes home.”

Zen shook her head. Flicking the butt of her cigarette with her thumb, she knocked the ash from its tip and argued, “That’s a lot of unnecessary back and forth that might draw attention. I’ll go with Zet to deal with this,” She motioned vaguely at the SUV. “We’ll pick up a car and drive back to the shipping yard for our bikes. After everything that just happened we should lay low. The fewer of us on the streets, the better.”

“She’s right,” Ashir agreed, but Zet didn’t like her part in this new plan. 

He observed her wan skin and hollow eyes. She looked sallow and exhausted, and he didn't like the idea of walking her back into potential danger when she looked dead on her feet. “I’ll take Vercer,” he said, exhaling a plume of grey, still watching his sister closely. “You should go to the clubhouse and get some rest.”

As always, she was quick to argue. “Like fuck you will. I’m going.”

“Zen--”

“She’s fine,” Shok interrupted his argument, arms folded in front of her chest as she also observed his sister. But if she was willing to let Zen charge back into a fight, she clearly wasn’t seeing what he was. Moving her gaze onto him, she said, “Get rid of the body and wipe the car clean. I don’t want anything to trace back to us.”

On a sigh, Shok’s gaze took in the MC and she shook her head. Heavy eyelids slid shut and she pressed the heels of her palms into them. When she dropped her hands from her face she gave them all another once over, then the SUV they’d be getting rid of, then sighed again. “We’ll deal with the rest in the AM.” She sounded as exhausted as Ozena looked.

Cigarettes were smoked down to the filters then flicked across the pavement, into the dry, roadside shrubs, except for Ashir’s; which was pocketed to be properly disposed of later. Brief goodbyes were made, embraces exchanged, along with promises to meet back at the clubhouse before they went their separate ways. The club got back on their motorcycles and drove into the night as he and Zen slid back into the SUV and drove in the opposite direction, back toward the coast. 

It was a quiet ride and he might have been thankful for it if it weren’t for the tension blasting off of his sister in a heatwave. She was angry with him, the razor sharp silence a dead give away that she was stewing in it. If he had the energy to lock horns with her, he’d have asked what was up, but it’d been a long night and Zet really didn’t want to fight with her. 

It’d been a good long while since she’d tapped herself out like she had tonight, longer still since they’d had this close a shave. Anger was how she coped, but thirteen hours of sleep would also do the trick; which was why she should have gone home instead of climbing into the passenger seat and exhausting herself that much more. 

One hand on the steering wheel, the other softly tapping along the edge of the center console dividing them, Zet’s gaze was trained on the headlight illuminated road and strips of yellow paint that zipped under the SUV like they were going lightspeed. A heavy sigh flattened his chest at the thought of the body in the back seat. 

Livia Herathinos had left them with quite a mess, but he was more interested in the trouble she’d been getting  herself  into. 

From what little of the business meeting had actually gone down, Zet had gathered that she was selling guns. More than that. She’d been selling military grade heavy weapons, or at least had that level of firepower in stock. Face time with her buyers had been short, but they’d seemed small time, with neither the funds nor need for that kind of arsenal. So what had that meeting  really  been about and why had they been ambushed? Had the hoods come for Livia, or her buyers?

Fuck. They were knee deep in it now, with no idea what the fuck they were wading through. 

He tightened his grip on the steering wheel and took a slow, steadying breath. They’d deal with one thing at a time. First the body and the car had to disappear. Everything else could wait until after a hot shower, big meal, and some much needed shut eye. 

Shok had said it best: they’d deal with the rest in the AM. 

The SUV came to a stop in front of a canal not far from the Seagrave coastline, a ways away from the shipping yard, at a dock that saw so little traffic that the signs had all rusted over and the dock itself had collapsed with rot. There was an incline where one might back a boat into the water, and the advisory posted nearby suggested that doing so was a bad idea. This was so far off the beaten path that it’d probably be years before the SUV was discovered and, by then, there wouldn't be a scrap of evidence left to link Valo-Kas to this crime or anything else that had happened tonight. 

He pressed the start button to kill the engine, muttering, “Come on,” as he pushed his door open and stepped out of the vehicle. The door was left open as he moved for the back passenger seat. They’d have to move Livia into the driver’s seat before they wiped the whole thing down. 

While he hooked his hands under her arms and dragged her body from the backseat, Ozena felt under the seats and searched the compartments for the emergency roadside kit. It took a few minutes of impatient grousing and some frustrated snarls before she yanked a lumpy red satchel from a compartment in the trunk. Zet knew better than to comment and instead focused on situating the body in the driver’s seat and strapping it in. 

When Zen tossed him a pair of clear, latex gloves, he squeezed his fingers into them, watching as she did the same. She’d found a bottle of some hydrogen peroxide and tossed it to him, along with a packet of gauze. He tore it open for the woven pads inside and began to spray down anything he might have touched. 

In the back and the rest of the SUV, Ozena was doing the same. Since they had the time they did a thorough job of it, emerging nearly half an hour later confident that neither of them had left a trace of themselves behind. He glanced sidelong at his twin and frowned as what he saw made him turn his face to really look at her. 

She was covered in blood. Her hands, her clothes, even her face. She’d need to wash off before they hit the road again, would probably need to lose her shirt, too. The blood on her pants wasn’t as easy to spot on the dark wash denim. 

“Give me the gauze,” she growled instead of the ‘ what the fuck are you looking at? ’ he saw burning in her eyes. 

Zet handed it to her, along with the rest of what she’d given him, and watched her stalk over to the patchy shrubbery to kick up some dirt. Zen dug a shallow hole in the earth then dropped all their steril smelling and blood stained trash into it. Shrugging out of her cut, she held it out for him to take before pulling off her tank top to toss onto the pile. When she held out her hand it wasn’t her cut he placed into it, but his lighter. 

She lit up the last square of gauze and let it fall into the hole. It wasn’t long before everything inside was on fire.

This time when she held out her hand he returned her cut, watching wearily as she shoved her arms through the holes and adjusted its fit on her shoulders. Watching the fire burn away the evidence of their ever being in the SUV, Zen peeled off the latex gloves and tossed them into the flames. 

“Do you want to explain to me what that was earlier,” she demanded, still not tearing her scowl away from the small, makeshift fire pit at their feet. 

He folded his arms in front of himself. Nothing he said would be the right thing, but he tried a tenuous, “You’ll have to be more specific,” on for size and immediately regretted it. 

Zen’s flaying glare snapped onto him. She turned away from the fire to face him fully and hiss, “You almost died tonight, Ozet. For  her .” She threw a hand toward the SUV, gesturing at the dead body strapped in the driver’s seat. 

A deep breath filled his lungs and it he let it out slowly. He wet his lips before he dared to answer. “Sometimes the jobs we take are dangerous, Zen. You know that. It wasn’t a big deal.”

She shoved his chest then got in his face, teeth bared as fury flashed in her violet eyes. The same eyes as his. “The jobs we take aren’t worth your life.  She  wasn’t worth your life. You threw yourself between her and a machine gun and the  only  reason we’re not pushing you into the canal right along with her is because of me.”

Staring down at his sister, Zet searched her outraged expression for the fear he knew was behind it. He shoved his hands into his pockets and shrugged. “What do you want to hear, Zen?” He shook his head in a curt side to side. “That I’m grateful? You know I am.”

“I want you to fucking think! For once just consider that your life is worth more than the paycheck that Tevinter bitch had cut us. You could have died tonight and it was almost for her. For  nothing .”

All he could do was shake his head again. “That’s the job, Zen.”

Again she shoved him, harder this time, and Zet forfeited a step to her anger. “The job is security, not pointless self sacrifice, you fucking idiot!” The fire flared brighter in her eyes and he thought that she might take a swing at him, but her jaw ticked and her nostrils flared and, after a second, all she did was shut her eyes, drop her chin, and shake her head, bumbling, “If something had happened to you…”

“Zen--”

Before he could try to comfort her, to reassure her that he was fine, they were both fine, the screeching howl of sirens tore through the night. They looked at each other and cursed as they moved, Zet to push the SUV into the canal and Zen to wash off as much of the blood as she could from her hands, forearms, and face. They’d also need to wipe down and get rid of their weapons, and their clothes were still bloodstained. 

There wasn’t enough time and he barely managed to push start the engine and throw the gear shift into neutral before a team of headlights closed in on them with a flash of red and blue lights. They didn’t even have time to run, not with how many cars had converged on them; they wouldn’t make it far if they tried. 

When a voice came on a megaphone, he and Ozena shared a look. He wanted to scream at her to run, but knew they’d just shoot her down before she could make it two steps. One look at the horns, at the blood covering them, and their guilt was decided. If they found out that she was a mage…

He stared pleadingly into her fearful eyes as he slowly lifted his hands and begged her to do the same. Maybe cooperation would buy them some good favor. The odds were stacked tall against them, but he couldn’t let anything happen to his sister. He’d do whatever he had to. They weren’t going to take her. He wouldn’t let them.

___

I hope you’re enjoying the read. Likes and reblogs would be -*chef’s kiss*-

#dragon age #dragon age inquisition #dragon age fanfiction #da fanfic #dorian x adaar #crime au #biker au #modern au #fan fic #dai fanfic

[penwarrior11]

If I Had a Heart

(Been sitting on this post-FNV Lucy/Ulysses oneshot for a year and a half.  It’s about time I posted the damn thing)

Lucy Decker leaned against the rocky wall of the trail, arms crossed, one booted foot propping her in place.  Her hazel eyes focused on the man sitting several feet away.  His back was to her while he worked and the wind coming off the Divide tugged at his dark braids.

It'd been three years since the battle at Hoover Dam.  Three years since she'd bested the might of both the Legion and the NCR, finally taking the Dam, New Vegas, and the Mojave at large for herself.  But that hadn't been the end of things, no.  Nothing in her life ever ended so easily.

The first time she returned to the Divide had only been two months after the battle.  She'd found him up on the cliff's edge overlooking the Divide.   He'd tensed as she approached, and she guessed that he hadn't expected her to come back.  Still, he hadn't said a word as she sat herself down next to him, just listened as she recounted what went down at the Dam.  Lanius, General Oliver.  The aftermath.

"Not what you expected," he'd said after a stretch of silence so long she thought it might go on forever.  It wasn't a question.  He knew.

Still, Lucy hadn't been able to help but reply, "Never is."

Since then she'd found her way back to the Divide countless times.  When she could spare a moment.  Or when she needed one.  Honestly, she needed one a lot.  Power was what she'd been gunning for, going in.  More power than some poor girl whose only home was the dusty road could've ever dreamed of.  Power didn't come so easy, though.  Once you had something, you had to fight tooth and nail for it, lest it slip from between your fingers once more.  Lucy knew that particular lesson all too well.  She'd lived it so many times.  And, as they said, uneasy lay the head that wore the crown.  So she kept coming back to that canyon, to his cliff-top, again and again and again.  Just for a bit of perspective.

Somewhere along the line Ulysses stopped referring to her as "Courier" to her face.  She was "Decker" now, the dual syllables often spoken as a curt acknowledgment of her presence.  But not Lucy. Never Lucy.  Not once in the three years she'd known him as more than the ghost lurking over her shoulder had she heard him say it.  Got a good look at him without that mask of his on occasion -- another thing she'd also thought impossible -- but never that.  Shame.  Would've been something to hear it said in that voice of his.

"I'm still not so sure this is a good idea," she called, the words carrying despite the wind.

Ulysses was preparing for a foray down into "The Courier's Mile," that patch of Hopeville they'd blown to hell with the Ashton missile.  An irradiated deathtrap filled with the worst sorts of marked men and deathclaws. Lucy'd thought the name was pretentious from the first time she'd heard him say it.  The Courier's Mile?  Really?  Then again, this was Ulysses they were talking about.  Despite his grim nature, the man had a flair for the dramatic to rival her own.  Besides, she hadn't been able to think of a better name, so it'd stuck.

"Never asked for your help, Decker," Ulysses replied as he shot her a brief glance over his shoulder.  "Could stay behind."

She snorted.  "And let you have all the fun without me?  Not a chance.  Besides, the Mile's just as much my fault as yours.  You aren't the only one who should be going down there."

Lucy already knew the "Why of it," as he would put it, for his trips down there.  The marked men in the Mile were getting antsy.  He couldn't risk letting them make a break for the Mojave.  And, frankly, neither could she.  There was too much riding on it staying intact.

Pulling her rifle off her back, Lucy double-checked the stabilizer.  The last thing she needed while she was down there was an inopportune tremor ruining a shot on a deathclaw.  While she worked, she kept talking.

"Brought some stims and Med-X if the sonsabitches decide to get a little too friendly.  Rad-X, too.  Better pop some before we head in there.  Don't want to glow in the dark by the time we get out."

Ulysses made a noncommittal noise in response. He was checking over his anti-materiel rifle now.  Good. They'd need something that packed that kind of a punch with those damned deathclaws lurking about.  She propped her own rifle against the face of the cliff behind her.

"Found some .50 MGs on the walk over, by the way. I figured you might be running low," she said, tossing a clip in his direction.  He caught it and loaded it into his rifle in one fluid motion.

Evidently satisfied, he slung the rifle across his back. Grabbing the battered old flagpole he used as a weapon from its place on the rocks beside him, he used it to push himself to his feet.

"You good?" Lucy asked once he was standing, quirking an eyebrow.

He nodded.  "Time to go."

"Right.  One second."

Holding a tie in her teeth, Lucy gathered her chin-length blonde curls as best she could before pulling them back into a short, ragged ponytail.  With that finished, she snapped her goggles into place, pulled a mask much like his own over her mouth, and picked up her rifle.  Then she gave him a thumbs-up.

Together, they headed down through the silo bunker toward the canyon floor, passing the bodies of old marked men and destroyed heaps of bot parts.  Reaching the end, they stepped out into the ruins of Hopeville.  The wind was stronger there than it was from the cliffs. It howled in Lucy's ears and whipped dust around her face as they headed to the right, circling the edge of the destroyed buildings.  Their path curved up around the rocks and onto a destroyed stretch of road. Upturned, rusted vehicles littered the cracked pavement.  They picked their way around them and stopped at the top of the hill overlooking to the Mile.

It appeared just as it had the several other times she'd ventured down into it since the missile hit.  Massive chunks of broken metal and cement were strewn about, shaping the ragged landscape.  The air had a faint misty quality to it, hovering as a sick cloud over the destruction. Reaching into her bag, Lucy pulled out her bottle of Rad-X.  She cracked the lid and poured the pills inside out onto her gloved palm.  Moving her mask aside, she popped a couple into her mouth.  Then she nudged Ulysses and held out the remaining couple to him.  He took them from her in silence.

They both stood on the hilltop for a few moments, waiting for the effects of the pills to kick in.  Peering through her binoculars, Lucy examined the ruins for any sign of their quarry.  There was no movement as far as she could see.

In an undertone, she told Ulysses, "No sign of them yet."

"Further in," he replied.  She lowered her binoculars again with a nod.

They began to pick their way through the Mile. When he gestured to one of the crumbling towers, halfway sunken into the ground, she silently followed him toward it. The two of them climbed up over the broken bits of concrete scattered around it to reach the upper floors, careful not to shift any of the rubble as they did.  Even the slightest noise could alert the residents of the Mile to their presence and ruin the element of surprise they were relying on.

Reaching the top, they both crouched down on either side of one of the empty windows.  Ulysses pulled his AMR off his back and got into position.  For a long time, he silently watched the ruins through the scope.

"Fifteen marked men," he finally muttered. "Legionnaire leading.  No deathclaws."

"What's he using?" Lucy asked.

"Gatling."

She sucked a breath in through her teeth.  A marked man wielding a Gatling laser was the last thing they needed at the moment.  He was going to be their primary target, then.  Lucy readied her rifle and waited.  She watched as Ulysses clicked the safety off on his own and took aim. The still silence was broken by a sharp crack as he fired.  Peering around the edge of the window, Lucy saw what was left of the marked man in question crumple, his head little more than red paste.  One down, thank god.  Then the others all turned in their direction.  Lucy picked off another of them, then another, but the rest were coming up on them too fast.

"Time to move," she said.

They scrambled back down the ruined tower to put some distance between them and the swarm of marked men.  Bullets whizzed overhead or struck the concrete around the two of them.  Sooner or later they'd hit what they were aiming for.  Cover was scarce at the moment, so the ghouls needed to be stopped. Fast.  Fishing a grenade out of her jacket, Lucy pulled the pin and looked at her companion.

"Ulysses!"

He turned at her shout and she tossed the grenade in his direction.  With a solid swing, he hit it with Old Glory, knocking it straight into center of the group of marked men.  It exploded, splattering bloody chunks of the flayed soldiers all over the nearby crumbling walls and kicking up a massive cloud of dust.

Lucy grinned at him from behind her mask. "Nice hit!"

Ulysses said nothing, but she thought she saw one scarred eyebrow quirk a little.

Any further celebration was cut short by a loud clanking from behind them.  Through the settling dust came another marked man, carrying the Gatling laser.  He must've picked it up off his dead comrade. The barrel was aimed right for them. Lucy saw the thing whir to life and felt her blood run cold.  She took a couple steps backward.  Almost unconsciously, she reached out for Ulysses.  Her fingers barely brushed against the edge of his duster before the gun went off.

All Lucy could hear was the scream and the rat-a-tat as the lasers fired.  She wasn't sure where the strength came from -- adrenaline, the remnants of those implants from the Big Empty, or some combination of both -- but she grasped Ulysses' coat and yanked him down to the dirt with her, out of the path of the beams.  When she hit the ground, it was hard enough to knock the wind out of her.  Her head swam.  Her right leg was practically screaming.  Gasping, she rolled over to assess the damage.

She hadn't been fast enough.  One of the beams had hit her thigh, tearing through the leg of her jeans and taking a solid chunk out of her flesh.  Worse still was the big hole she saw singed into the front of Ulysses' threadbare shirt.  Past that, burned flesh and a gaping wound.  She heard a muffled grunt of pain from behind his mask.

"Shit," Lucy gasped, wiping at her dusty goggles to get a better look. "Shit."

There wasn't much blood; the laser'd cauterized it almost instantly.  Beyond that it was hard to get a read on how much damage it'd done.  How far had the shot made it in?  All the way through?  Was that bone?  She'd seen guns like that take out full-grown deathclaws.  The fact that he was still breathing at all was a fucking miracle.

The Gatling laser shrieked to life again and she had to duck to avoid the renewed shots.  A quick look back over her shoulder told Lucy the marked man was still coming up on them.  Slow, to keep firing the Gatling, but steady nonetheless.  Her first instinct was to bolt.  Jam a stim into herself and hope her leg didn't slow her down as bad as she thought it might.  If she was lucky, she'd get to cover before the ghoul reached her, then pick her way through the ruins and out of the Mile.  There was enough of a head-start to make it if she didn't outright collapse on the way.  A sharp intake of breath turned her attention back to the man beneath her.  Behind the breathing mask his face looked ashen. Ulysses might be dying, and he would definitely die if she left him now.  The thought set a raw, gnawing ache tearing at her insides.

Damn him.

She looked back over her shoulder again.  The marked man was too close now for her rifle. She pulled Maria from the holster at her hip and fired twice at the ghoul.  A spray of red blossomed from the back of his head as her shots impacted and he crumpled to the dirt.  With the immediate danger out of the way, she pulled a stimpak out of an inner pocket of her jacket and jabbed it into Ulysses' arm.  She heard the familiar hiss as it injected.

From somewhere in the ruins around them came a series of low, garbled growls.  More marked men, by the sound of it.

"Not now," she muttered.  Slinging her companion's arm across her shoulders, she looked around for a bit of shelter from the impending attack.  "Like I said before, I've got some Med-X if you want it, but we've got to get to cover first.  I -- Ulysses?"

Something was wrong.  His grip on her was much too weak and, despite what appeared to be his best efforts, he was losing the fight to stay conscious.  His head thumped against her shoulder, and his skin felt cold against hers.  Her breath caught in her throat.  The stim hadn't worked.  They were still deep in the Mile, and the nearest auto-doc was in the Hopeville Missile Base.  There was no way she'd be able to get him out of there and fight off the marked men that'd be on them at any second.  Not with him barely conscious and her busted leg.  At the rate he was fading, Ulysses would be gone in minutes, and there wasn't a single goddamn thing she could do about it.  Unless...

Frantically rummaging around in her bag with her free hand, Lucy pulled out the Transportalponder.  She stared uneasily at the device in her hands, blue and crackling with energy. Trying to use it this far from the Big Empty, and with this much interference from the radiation?  It was a long shot at best.  All she could do was hope for a miracle.

She adjusted her grip on Ulysses, wrapping arm around his back and clenching a fistful of his duster to pull him tight against her side.  Aiming the device at the sky, she fired.

Currents of electricity hissed and snapped around her, and she held tight to the man next to her.  For a second everything was static.  When her vision finally cleared, they were both sprawled on the balcony of the Sink.  Staggering halfway up to her feet again, and stumbling when she put weight on her injured leg, Lucy headed for the door.  It hissed open at her approach and she pulled him through.

"Sir?" the Central Intelligence Unit called over to her as soon as they'd passed the threshold.  "Is everything all right, sir?"

Lucy didn't answer.  There wasn't time.  Her feet slid on the smooth floor, slipping out from underneath her, and she sat down hard. Wincing, she crawled back over to where Ulysses had fallen.  With a start, she saw that his eyes were closed now.

"No, no, no, no, no."  She fumbled with his breathing mask, trying to get it off.  Her left hand was shaking so bad it was all she could do to try and get a grip on the thing.  "Shit. Come on!"

Lucy finally got the straps undone and she cast the mask aside, sending it skittering across the floor.  The other personalities that made up the Sink babbled at her in the background.  Voices of confusion and concern.  She ignored them.  Ulysses wasn't breathing.

"You son of a bitch, we're five feet away!" she shouted at him.  Grabbing the back of his duster again and gritting her teeth, she continued to drag him across the room.  "Doc, incoming!"

"Get him in here," the auto-doc told her as its door opened.

When she finally reached the other side of the room she practically ripped off his duster and what was left of his shirt before shoving him into the machine.  Once he was inside, the door slid shut again, blocking him from view.  A second later she heard the muffled but distinct sounds of the tools whirring to life.

Silence.  It was all Lucy could do to just sit there, gulping in deep breaths while blood pounded in her ears.  Her leg gave a horrific twinge.  Gritting her teeth, she took another stim from her jacket and stabbed the needle into her thigh.  That'd have to do until Doc could look her over, too.

She then yanked off her goggles and her own breathing mask, casting them aside.  Her eyes stung.  When she touched her face, her fingers came away wet.  Fuck, she was crying.  Why was she crying?

"Ma'am?"

She looked up at the machine.  "Talk to me, Doc."

"Well, I got him breathing again and most of the damage can be patched up, but there's a problem."  It paused before explaining, "The wound -- laser-made, by the looks of it -- it goes right through the sternum.  Punched a hole in his heart that I can't fix.  And with the Think Tank gone I've got no more replacements.  I can keep him going for a little longer, but..."

It didn't need to finish.  Lucy already knew.

She lurched to her feet again and started pacing, even when her leg screamed in protest.  Back and forth, back and forth, with short, unsteady steps.  Her hands tangled up in her curls almost by themselves. She wanted to break something. Instead, she slammed her fist against the wall before slumping against it and closing her eyes.

Three years since she'd first tracked him down to the end of that canyon, three years of heading back into that death trap again and again just to see him, only for him to die because she'd been a second too slow to pull him out of the line of fire?  Pathetic.  Absolutely pathetic.  And what about Doc?  It could rip her own heart out on Dala's command and shove it back in again, but it couldn't fix this?

Her eyes snapped open.  That was it.

"Use mine," she whispered.

"What was that?" Doc asked her.

"Use mine."  She spun on her heel and ran back over to the auto-doc.  Reaching the terminal on the side, she began frantically searching through the options.  "The tech implant my heart was replaced with when I first got here.  I know you've still got it, so use it!"  She'd kept it in the back of her head as a "just in case."  Well, now she needed it.  Finding the right selection, she punched it in.

"It might not work."

"Try," she begged, and she took a step back from the machine.  The voice sighed, but seemed to relent.  There were a thousand ways this could go wrong.  She knew that.  But the alternative was even worse.

For a long time, the only sounds came from the auto-doc.  The dull hum of the sensors, the metallic buzz of a saw.  Lucy stood there, watching, waiting, her clenched fist pressed against her mouth.  She barely dared to breathe.  Even the other personalities had gone quiet for once.  Finally, the door slid open with a sharp hiss.

Ulysses sat slumped down on the floor of the auto-doc. His head lolled to the side, temple pressed against the inner wall of the metal tube, eyes closed.  A long red gash ran vertically down the middle of his chest, marred by the round, puckered mark from the laser.  Lucy could see they were both already partially healed from stim injections.  It'd leave one hell of a scar.  She would know.

Crouching down in front of him and holding her breath, she checked his neck for a pulse.  There it was, beating steady under her fingertips.  She let out the breath as one long, shaky sigh.  For now, at least, the transplant worked.

His eyes half-opened then and he looked up at her. His voice wasn't much more than a hoarse rasp as he said, "Decker..."

"You're not checking out on me just yet," she murmured.  On instinct, she pressed her lips against his forehead.  When she looked down at him again his eyes were closed, but his breathing was steady.

Leaning back, she shouted, "Muggy!"

The miniature securitron rolled in from the other room.  Despite his display not changing from its usual image of a cheerful cartoon coffee mug, he started in a snide voice, "I don't know what you expect me to do--"

"You're the only one in here besides me who can move, so you're the only one who can actually help," she said, slinging one of Ulysses' arms over her shoulders.  "So help."

Lucy wasn't sure how long it'd been since she last slept.  She dug the heels of her palms into her eyes, further smudging whatever remnants were left of her makeup.  Not that that really mattered at the moment.

Together, she and Muggy had managed to get Ulysses from the AutoDoc into the Sink's bedroom and lay him down.  She was currently sitting on the metal crate by the wall, chin resting in her hands, keeping an eye on him.  He had yet to wake up, but at least he was still alive. That thought in and of itself unsettled her.  The amount she'd come to rely on him over the past couple of years... frankly, it was terrifying.  Sooner or later, that man would be the death of her.  She was sure of it.

With a sigh, Lucy got to her feet.  Her leg wobbled a little, but she figured she was steady enough to walk a couple feet to the balcony and get some air.  It wasn't like she planned to go fight a deathclaw or anything.

Stretching, she said, "Muggy, watch him, would you?"

"Sure," the robot grumbled from the other side of the room.  "Not like this is keeping me from my real job or anything."

"You can go back to that once there isn't a man half-dead in here.  Let me know if anything changes."

He continued to mutter half-hearted threats as she walked through the Sink's main room and out onto the balcony.  Most of the Big Empty was dark and indiscernible on the other side of the shimmering blue forcefield.  The only other point of light was the Forbidden Zone, its distant red glow shining like a beacon in the crater's gloom.  Lucy leaned against a nearby metal post holding up the balcony roof and checked the time on her Pip-boy.

4:15 am

She tipped her head back and squeezed her eyes shut.  It was a godforsaken hour, and her head was just about swimming, but she finally had the time to breathe.  To think. Probably too much time, knowing her.

House rotted in his crypt, the Legion was headless and bleeding out somewhere east, and the NCR was too busy licking its wounds to do much for the time being.  New Vegas was hers.  The Mojave was hers, but it wasn't enough. It was never enough.  She always felt like she was still reaching for something. For a shadow, maybe.  For a ghost.  For a man, half-dead and comatose in her bed of all places.  Alive because a heart that'd once been hers now beat in his chest.

Lucy's eyes snapped open as the door to the Sink let out several loud clanks.  Looking over, she saw Ulysses standing in the doorway.  Though he'd pulled his duster back on, his shirt was still gone.  It'd been so burned up by the Gatling laser that she couldn't exactly blame him.  The incision scar on his chest looked better than it had when Doc had finished with him, but not by much.  Behind him, she could see Muggy trying to squeeze past his legs.

"You said to come tell you if anything changed," the robot called to her.  "This enough for you?"

"Muggy, go back inside," Lucy said.  Her eyes never left Ulysses.

"I told him to stop, but no.  Nobody ever listens to poor Muggy.  Why would they?"

"Muggy."

The little securitron stopped ranting.  He shot a quick look between the two of them before turning and rolling back into the Sink, mumbling, "Yeah, okay. Back inside I go."

The door clanked shut again behind him, leaving Lucy and Ulysses standing alone on the balcony.  For a while there was only silence as they watched each other.

"You shouldn't be out here," Lucy eventually told him, if for no other reason than to break the quiet.  "You've still got a ways to go before your chest heals over."

"Got questions."

"I bet you do, but they can wait until you're--"

"Saved my life," Ulysses said, cutting her off. "Why?"

She looked away and licked her chapped, dry lips, which only made them sting.  The lipstick coating them was almost gone.  Worn away like so much else back in that canyon.  What could she even tell him?

"'Cause I can still see the edge, I guess," she whispered, as she stared out across the darkness of the Big Empty. Ulysses stayed silent, but she hadn't expected him to say anything.  That's just the way it was with him.  All or nothing, thunder or dead quiet.  Shaking her head, she said in a louder voice, "Since you pretty much saved my life, I figured I'd return the favor."

He didn't respond for a long time, long enough that Lucy almost thought he wouldn't at all.  Then, "Never asked for your help."

She rolled her eyes and let out a small snort of laughter.  "You've said that already.  Look, if you want me to just zap you back to the Mojave right now, fine.  You're still pretty busted up, but it's your choice. I can't stop you and, frankly, I don't really care at this point."

"You're lying."

Lucy was taken aback by his abrupt reply.  She stared at him, dumbfounded.  "Excuse me?"

"You care, Decker," he told her, his voice full of far too much conviction for a man who'd just been at death's door.  "Could've run.  Would've, it was anyone else.  Know that much about you by now.  But you stayed, risked death in the Courier's Mile even when you had an escape. Something more than debt kept you."

Lucy felt something in her chest give a tight squeeze and quickly turned her eyes away again.  There were footsteps across the metal floor of the balcony as he walked over to her.  She didn't look at him.  Hell, she wasn't sure if she even could.  It wasn't until he spoke again that she realized just how close he'd come.

"And in that machine... you kissed me.  Can't help but wonder what that means."

Shit.  She'd hoped he'd been too out on Med-X to remember that.

"It didn't mean anything," she retorted with a harsh laugh.  "I've kissed a lot of men, Ulysses, and plenty of women, too.  You weren't the first, and you sure as hell won't be the last."

She could still feel his eyes on her, boring a hole into the side of her head, but she kept her own resolutely fixed on the black sky in the distance.  No, it hadn't meant anything.  It never did. So why did those words sound hollow, even to her?

"It was different.  You know it, too."

Lucy closed her eyes.  Different, he said.  He'd always been different.  Benny -- who should've had a fucking army ready when she came for him -- barely thought twice about being within arm's reach of her once she'd batted her lashes at him.  Elijah'd thought he could toy with her like she was some puppet whose strings he could pull.  Dean had, too, in his own way.  He should've realized something was wrong when he waltzed into Vegas and she was already there, waiting for him.  The Think Tank let her have free run of the Big Empty to do their dirty work, never once thinking she might find a loophole and come back for them.  Every one of them underestimated her, and every one of them paid for that mistake in their own fashion.

But not Ulysses.  He'd known exactly what she was capable of from the start, had been ready for it.  He saw right through her.  Lucy was sure he was seeing through her then, too.

When she woke up in Goodsprings, alive and angry, she'd been standing near some sort of metaphorical cliff.  By the time she followed Ulysses' transmission into the canyon, she hadn't just been walking toward it.  No, she'd been running, ready to throw herself off the edge and take anyone else she could manage down with her.  She'd wanted revenge on the man who shot her.  She'd wanted power when it got offered up.  Not once was she able to see past all the blood in her eyes.  Then she saw the Divide.  Everything she'd loved had been destroyed in that blast.  Being there again woke her up, showed her exactly what would happen if she kept going down that road.  Now Ulysses kept her off it.  Had been keeping her off it for the past three years.  She needed him.

But that wasn't it, though, was it?  The reason. The why of it all.  Not if she was being honest with herself, which was getting so much harder to do.  This wasn't about need so much as want.

Did she want him?  Oh yes, she did.  She wanted the way he made her feel.  Longed for it.  There was a comfort in his quiet she'd never known from anyone else.  And, if she was being really honest, she'd wanted him since that first fleeting glimpse of him back before the Divide went to hell.  A glimpse that'd almost made her hesitate. Almost kept her from going to the NCR to bring back the package that doomed the home they'd unknowingly shared.

She hadn't stopped then, but she'd managed to find her way back to him anyhow.

Lucy shook her head once to snap herself out of it. What was she thinking?  She couldn't be having this conversation. Not there.  Not with him.

"You know what?" she snapped as she put up her hands.  "Fine. If you won't go inside, I will."

She started to push past him, heading for the Sink's door.  Her head buzzed.  Her heart pounded.  Going outside had been a mistake after all.  Frankly, she'd rather fight a deathclaw -- or, hell, why not seven of them? -- than face whatever this was turning into.

"Lucy."

That made her stop.  She lurched to a halt and stood there, frozen.  When she tried to swallow, her her throat felt tight. Slowly, she turned back to face him. Ulysses' dark eyes were still on her, unblinking and far too focused.  Lucy could only imagine what she looked like at the moment.  Dark circles beneath her hazel eyes, lipstick rubbed to practically nothing, blonde curls hanging around her face in tangles. The Divide always knew how to unmake her, strip down her pretty defenses to the raw places that lay underneath. Or maybe that was just him. Either way, whatever he was seeing right then, it wasn't what the rest of the Mojave did.

"Means light," he went on.  He seemed to be mulling over the words as he spoke, considering them.  "Suits you."

A small frown tugged at her mouth.  She took a few slow steps toward him and asked, "Why's that?"

"Lights can blind.  Told you, once."

Lucy's frown deepened into a scowl.  If he was just going to berate her again -- for Vegas or her methods or whatever else he could think of -- she wasn't exactly in the mood at the moment.  But he wasn't finished.

"Lights can also make you see," he told her. "Made me see.  Took a long time to realize anger wasn't meant to be the answer -- not yours, not mine. More than that, too.  Tried for years to understand, and only now begin to grasp the why of it.  Spent too long chasing each other for all this to mean nothing."

It finally dawned on her that this wasn't an accusation.  It was a confession.

"You're a hard woman.  Hard to kill.  Hard to love."  He went quiet again.  Then he brushed the loose curls away from her forehead.  His fingers traced the scar that ran along her hairline and the puckered spot beneath it where Benny'd put a nine-millimeter into her skull.  In a solemn voice, he added, "Might try."

"Which one?" Lucy asked, feeling breathless.

"There a difference?"

The soft edge of a laugh escaped her. Ulysses' fingertips hadn't yet left her face, she'd noticed.  Instead they traveled down her jaw to curl beneath her chin.  She got the feeling that he was holding back, waiting, but when had she ever been one to hesitate?

Lucy grabbed the edges of his duster to pull him toward her and rose up onto tiptoe to kiss him. Even stretched out to her full height, it was barely enough.  Their lips barely brushed.  That is, until he gripped her thighs and hoisted her up into his arms, silencing her surprised gasp against his mouth.  His lips were chapped, but still.  Still.  He kissed her with enough hunger, enough fire, that it threatened to burn her from the inside out.  And she was more than ready to let it.  She wrapped her legs around his waist and reached up to hold his face between her hands. Her fingers scraped against the stubble along his jaw.

Was this what she'd been reaching for all this time?  The end of the road, the center of the spiral, the point of collision.  A light.  A ghost.  Two sides of the same goddamn coin, too caught up in their own trappings to face reality. A pair of Couriers with too much history to burn or to bury.

"Didn't walk through ash and hell to lose you now," Ulysses murmured.  His words held the rough edge of a promise.  Lucy knew he was big on those.

So she didn't mean it lightly when she answered back with, "Good luck getting rid of me."

She felt his heartbeat thundering in his chest. A heart that'd once been hers. Figuratively, literally... didn't really matter.  He'd stolen it from her, sure as hell, too long ago now to be certain of when it happened. Too quietly for her to notice it even happened at all.  That fact alone surprised her.

The bigger surprise was that she didn't care. Not if it was him.

#fallout new vegas #fnv #ulysses #courier 6 #ulysses/courier #lucy decker #otp: lights and ghosts #took me long enough

[themadsamurai]

Town of Phoenix Concet

A new series I’ll be writing soon.

<Town of the Phoenix>

In the country of Easifa (storm), there’s a tale of a peaceful town that worshipped a fire bird as their goddess. Thanks to their worship, the goddess bestowed the power of flames upon their bloodline. The elder of this town knew that the royal families would not approve of this revelation and implored his citizens to keep it a secret. But the younger generation disagreed, it’s not like they were doing anything wrong with these powers. They could protect Easifa from foreign threats. The elder was right and the royal families were afraid of these powers. The country was a place of mysticism but never have they ever been able to use the powers of a goddess. What if one of these citizen defect and an enemy country obtains these powers?

The royal families sent thousands upon thousands of soldiers to this city to slaughter all of its residents. The goddess, distraught by the death of her followers blamed herself for bestowing them these powers, went into a state of depression and disappeared. The royal families proclaimed that should any survive resident of this town be discovered, they will be labeled children of evil and slaughtered.

300 years later and easifa is now a country with immense wealth and riches but looks to make up for their sins of the past. Unfortunately they are plagued by Creatures such as jinn (ghosts) and Raeb (blood suckers). A young farm hand named Cain discovers that he can summon the Phoenix Goddess Fire. Cain becoming curious about his past starts looking for answers when a near death experience causes him to meet the goddess herself Homura. She asks him to find her destroyed home and return her spirit to her temple. After some reluctance, he accepts. He journeys throughout Easifa with his Best friend and jinn hunter in training Dalia (A charming girl with a hidden bloodlust), her tiger cub pet Amyr and a man who says he collects souls named Mahaz. His powers capture the attention of the Militia. Who send two of his old friends, Lt. Rekka and his younger sister Rubina… (the also have a pet lemur named Sparx) who are determined to figure out of their old friend is a danger or a hero to Easifa that they were looking for. Along the journey the Trio will learn secrets about the country, becoming stronger as individuals and maybe even save Easifa from its misfortune on the way.

Main Characters

Cain Ishihara - Was a farm hand who discovered he had the ability to summon fire. Formally gave up during the middle of Militia physical. While he is a passive individual looking to do right he can get selfish and stubborn when his curiosity takes over. While he is looking to get Homura’s spirit home, his interest in his home hometown takes president. He has blond hair that reaches the back of his neck and long bangs that fall in front of his face; black eyes. Average height but slim fit build. Long black boots, White linen pants. Black male Kimono flaming cloud design top with red edges. He has a red katana that’s sheathed in a red scabbard that has the same flaming clouds on it.

Magic Focus: Flame

Dalia Volkov - a Jinn Hunter (in training). Cain’s best friend and self professed “wing man”. A bubbly optimistic that also has a darker side when she gets into battle. She put her jinn hunter training to the side in order to journey with Cain. Very long Auburn hair kept in a long long tail to the side; Blue eyes. Tall, slightly shorter than Cain. Well endowed but fit figure. Brown boots, cream color harem pants. Cream colored sleeveless blouse with brown leather corset. White bangle wrapped wrist bands. Two scimitars with black hilts and white scabbards with black flowers that rest on her lower back.

Magic Focus: Spiritual/Split Mind

Amyr the tiger - Dalia’s pet sabertooth tiger cub. Always by her side. With the power transfer magic, he can turn into an adult and assist in battle. As a baby he has light orange fur and black stripes. Also a noticeable scar on his forehead. As an adult he tripled in size and gets two extra curved tusk fangs.

Magic Focus: Transfer

Mahaz Abad -A Traveling mercenary, Mahaz has seen some shit. Despite his appearance, mahaz is a chill dude that always plans ahead. He got the nickname Soul Taker From being accused of a massive murdering spree. long messy black hair, black bandanna on his head with red swirl designs, brown eyes. Very tall, muscular individual with light brown skin. Black heavy flip flop sandals, red sirwal pants, a sleeveless collared black vest with red swirl designs and red bracelet. He has a long black pole staff. With blood magic it becomes a scythe.

Magic Focus: Repulsion/Blood

Homura the Goddess - the phoenix goddess herself. She yearns to return to her home and task Cain to do so whom she met when he nearly died. Homura is elegant and kind but as a goddess has a slight temper. Especially when Cain ignores her. She has saidto have feelings for Cain to Dalia but doesn’t pursue because she’s a goddess. She’s a giant flaming firebird. Her humanoid appearance has long red hair that reaches her back, red eyes and a golden headband. She is curvaceous and beautiful. But wears a large white kimono with red flames on it.

Magic Focus: Flame/Healing

Rubina Nazar - a low ranking captain of the Easifa militia, Rubi as her friends call her, is stoic and calm on the outside but is actually kind and sweet. A brilliant fighter, she is known as the piercer thanks to her rapier. Cain and her have had an intimate relationship in the past. She had short black hair in a bob cut and emerald eyes. A fit figure with ample curves. The Easifa uniform is simple blue getup. As a captain she has two stars on the right breast pocket of her uniform. Casually, she usually wears beige bootcut pants and pink medieval style blouse with black boots. She has a blue hilted rapier with a handguard that extends past the hilt. She also has a silver revolver with her at all times.

Magic Focus: Boost step

Lt. Rekka Nazar - the newest lieutenant of Easifa militia and the older brother of Rubi. Rekka is still getting accustomed to the responsibilities that fall on his shoulders. Rekka is considered a prodigy but new school ideas cause him to but heads with the general constantly. Rekka is hot tempered but cunning. His previous nickname given to him by Cain was Buckshot cause of his obsession with guns. He has short black hair but also a mullet in the back and emerald eyes. A y’all individual, He wears a similar uniform to Rubi but it has 3 stars in the breast pocket and red line going down the left arm. Casually he wears black boots. Brown straight pants and a white shirt. He always has two sawed off shotguns on him. Tends to carry a rifle and combat knife on him too.

Magic Focus: Ice/wind

Sparx the lemur - Sparx is the nazar family pet and sidekick. Usually seen resting on Rekka’s shoulder. Sparx is protective of his family and will jump at anything that hurt Rekka and Rubi. He has white fur and a patch of red fur in the shape of a triangle on his chest.

Magic Focus: Boost step

Akeem Chai - Rekka’s right hand man. He’s not the brightest but excitable and always looking to prove his strength. Akeem is a rarity in the militia as he prefers to use his fist, feet and magic to fight instead of an abundance of weapons. He is also the estranged son of Dr Chao Xhen but only Rekka and Rubi know that. His hair is a brown quiff that almost goes into pompadour territory. Blue eyes, blackrim glasses. He is fit and thick. There is only one star on his uniform pocket because he is yet to be a captain. Casually he wears blue ripped harem pants and a black shirt. He usually is not wearing shoes.

Magic Focus: Equivalent Dmage

Dr. Chao Xhen - the traveling Doctor of Easifa. The Doc can be found in his giant carriage working on his potions and tending to all the citizens, mostly the militia. Even then he can be found once in a while in his 3 offices. But the chances of you being there on a day he is quite rare. The Doc is called mad by the people, some wonder if he actually studied but none can argue he gives results. The older man has wild grey hair that is never combed and blue eyes. He has a rough beard and moustache and enjoyed the feeling of scratching it. Normally he’s wearing brown overalls and boots with a gray shirt and sometimes a white coat but honestly he usually just throws stuff together. Chao is always flipping a quarter. He enjoys the sound.

Magic Focus: Luck

Tae Kagawa - the quiet, almost antisocial assistant of Doctor Chao. Tae was sold to the black market as a young child but saved by the Doctor. He’s one of the people she genuinely cares for, calling him father. Although he doesn’t want her to call him that. She is the person usually managing his schedule and getting him to places when someone actually needs help. She has blue dyed hair with bangs that falls long on the right side of her face and brown eyes. She has a petite frame and tends to wear a white or black dress.

Magic Focus: Study Eye

General Mashru Rafiq - the commander general of the Easifa militia. He’s in the twilight of his career much to his own dismay. He’s not a fan of the changes that Easifa is going through and butts heads with Rekka because of it. His goal is ultimately eliminate all the creatures infesting Easifa. One way or another. He is an older man with slick bald white hair, yellow eyes and a very long beard. His uniform is black and has 5 stars on the breast pocket. He always carries 6 revolvers in his jacket and a long scimitar at his waste.

Magic Focus: Earth

Villains

Lucian Alexander - the 499th King of the Raebs. He is a legendary hero to his people after defeating and exterminating the Raebs long rival species the Mayit (dead walkers) in his youth. Lucian is a terrifying and ruthless individual but also is clinically depressed in his age. Looking for the last bit of excitement in his life, he seeks to plunge his home country of Easifa into an all lit war with the humans. Once the creatures rule the country, he will step down and name his son Stefan as the 500th king. Lucian is very secretive, it is said those who stumble into his castle without invitation is never heard from again. He is a tall man with long flowing black hair and red highlights. Goatee and handlebar mustache. His left eye is white, right is red. Fangs and three scars on his cheek. He wears a suit with black, white and red colors. And white handkerchief in his breast pocket. He carries a stylized sword with a red hilt, gold handguard and broad black blade.

Magic Focus: Varied/Blood

Ramona Alexander - the wife of Lucian and current Queen of Raebs. She is a born succubus but became half raeb after her passionate relationship with Lucian. Ramona is a yandere… madly in love with Lucian to this day and will do anything to seek his attention. In his depressed state he tends to ignore her which leads her to scheming up ways to catch his eye, even staging an affair in front of him. Some say she is more ruthless than Lucian, desmating any woman who looks at him lustfully. Ramona is also protective of her son who she deems will be a greater king then her husband. Ramona is beautiful, curvaceous and thanks to having a mix of succubus and raeb blood, youthful looking. She has long purple hair that reaches her calves; a bang always covers her left eye (which are both dark blue). Her fangs are smaller than most. She wears a long black dress with red on the end and white flowers covering the dress. Black heels as well.

Magic Focus: Arousal/Blood

Stefan Alexander - prince of the Raebs, he is half raeb and half incubus. Stefan can’t wait to be king. He’s brash, arrogant, a playboy and smart. Even though he has so much respect for his parents, he is aware that soon they will have to settle down or die in battle. Stefan always is at the front lines looking for a fight. Much like his parents, he is easily bored. His solution is to go out to the human world, have some fun and cause destruction. Some feel that half raeb should not be king, he always changes that person's mind by leaving them close to deaths door. He has short black hair and purple highlights, two red eyes and small fangs like his mother. He wears a white medieval style dress shirt, black shoes and black pants. He has a sword similar to his father but also has a scimitar with a broken blade which he uses to toy with weaker opponents.

Magic Focus: Arousal/Blood/Ice

Rosawld Rosario Rodini - the mad clown, Roswald has a strange connection to Jinn. Jinn normally have no ruler and tend to run on instinct, but roswald can manipulate them, making him a huge asset to Lucian. No one is sure if he’s a jinn himself, raeb, or even human. While he is an ally to Lucian, he prefers to be called a subordinate. Never taking credit for large scale plans. Roswald is a master of disguise and violent jokester. Always looking to see if anyone can handle his madness. He is a skinny man with messy green hair and yellow eyes. He has clown makeup, white painted face, red x’s across his eyes and a red lines along his mouth that make it look stitched up. He wears candy cane looking pants, white with red stripes. Magician shoes. White shirt, blue vest and red jacket. He also carries Bayard model hand gun on him.

Magic Focus: Transfer/Luck/Study Eye

Dizarah - She is the last of the Mayit. Once a slave to the Mayit king, She is now Lucians vanguard captain. She is entrusted with protecting the prince much to her dismay as he tends to prefer to wander alone. Dizarah enjoys killing humans because they were the ones who created and became the Mayit. Her own people who tortured her before Lucian saved her. She is tall but skinny girl with short black hair and red eyes. 90 percent of her body is wrapped in bandages, including her face, leveling only her hair, eyes and mouth free. The bandages tend to hang off her body and can extend and be controlled by her. She doesn’t wear anything over her bandages at the top but wears a blue ripped skirt and black boots.

Magic Focus: Undead/Repulsion

Xavier Scalebound - the lizard man and leader of Lucian’s Sahalia (lizard people) army. They are the most defensive specialist species in all of Easifa. Lucian recruited there people who were being oppressed by the Mayit and fed to Jinn. Xavier is cunning milterist. He almost never has to jump into battle as his planning and strategies of his army overwhelm his opponents. Xavier personally trained Dizarah in combat and oversees the protection of Prince Stefan. His body is covered in red scales. His stomach has some missing in an x shape which is said to be a scar that Stefan gave him. He has wild red hair flowing from his head and messy short black cloth pants. His weapons of choice are a battle axe, mace and curved scimitar.

Magic Focus: Water/Lightning

#originalstory #TownOfPhoenix #anime #manga #action #adventure #madsamurai

[yourjughead]

Medic

Pairings: ReaderxSweetPea

Warnings: Hinted at violence, mentions of blood, fluff, angst.

A/N: Hope you enjoy this lil not so lil fic, American Beauty//American Psycho will go up during the week. Let me know what you think my loves!

----------------------------------

“Woah what happened you?”

“Fucking Ghoulie” Sweet Pea stomped inside your trailer and threw himself down on the couch. Eye bruising, head cut and lip swelling slightly. He was a sight to behold.

“Aww poor baby” you teased and he glared.

“Just fix it, that's your job isn't it?”

“I'm the gang medic not the gang slave” you shot back.

You kneeled on the couch in order to look properly at the cut on his head starting in his jet black hair.

“Wow Ynn on your knees for me? You tease”

“Careful Sweet Pea or your eyes will be a matching set” you played back. Always the same flirtatious exchanges that never mounted to anything.

Still on your knees you leaned further in, tilting his head down to reach the very start of the cut before starting to clean it out.

“You know you're basically forcing my head into your chest right now yeah?”

“Are we complaining?” you dabbed an especially large amount of antiseptic on his head and he let out a hiss.

“Nope, never” he gripped your hips harshly and seemed to channel his pain into them, you didn't really feel it at all.

“You're crossing the line of doctor patient relationship SP” you put the steristrips on the cut and covered most of them with his hair to hide them before moving into the eye.

“Shame” he smirked. You sat back so you were cross-legged, pulling Sweet Pea closer to inspect his eye.

“This was just an excuse so you could spend the night looking deep in my eyes wasn't it” he grins at you and you flash a small beaming bright light into his eyes.

“Argh!”

“Yup your pupils dilated fine there” you laughing as he shoves you backwards before hovering over the length of your body. He shifts to prop himself up, still holding himself over you.

“No need to patch up the black eye now that I'm blind”

“You're right, we should fix your lip though” you half catch him by the chin and drag him down closely, him willingly going. Your faces were mere millimeters away. He slowly closed his eyes but quickly you grab a cotton pad soaked in antiseptic and press it to his lip as he half howls in the pain of the burn and the surprise.

“You bitch!” He shoots up kneeling, leg either side of you as he pats dry his lip.

“That's an odd way to say thank you” you smirk and he begins tickling you mercilessly as you were caught halfway between screaming and laughing.

“Okay truce truce truce!” He finally stopped as you began to turn slightly purple. You were regaining your strength as you both stared at each other sweetly, him still kneeling above you. His phone buzzing to life broke you both from your trance.

“Hello-Yeah-Yeah-Really?-FPs son?-yeah-Emm not I'm really busy-” he glanced at you apologetically and you bit your lip, averting your gaze “-okay-okay-Ill be right there-yeah-talk to you later”

“Business?”

“Yeah?”

“Will I have a bunch of you to stitch up later orrrr”

“No-” he laughed again “FP was busted for that murder thing on the Northside, typical that we get  the blame. But anyway he didn't name names with the drug's side of it so it's time to follow the rules and start looking after FP jr, going over there now with the gang to let him know” he reluctantly got off the couch and fixed his jacket and collar in the mirror. Sweet Pea was fiercely loyal, especially to the Serpents. They had given him everything when his world was taken from him a few years ago. No one knew what that meant to him like you did. You were best friends ever since. You stood and behind him, helping to fix his collar.

“FP jr...oh waits he's kinda hot, I wonder if he's single?” you half whispered behind him, knowing it was driving him mental.

Suddenly Sweet Pea turned, grabbed onto you before turning again, half slamming you into the wall on which the mirror hung. You let out a slight sexually charged whimper at the sudden control he was taking and he smirked. Damn it you thought. He was inches from your face once again.

“Yeah, I thought so” he winked before releasing you, reveling in the little victory you just granted him while you cursed yourself.

“Maybe I should give him a phone call” you called after Sweet Pea as he went for the door.

“It'll be the last phone call he ever gets” Sweet Pea half slammed the trailer door. He won the battle but you won that war.

~

Over the next few weeks you were introduced to Jughead and his subsequent Northside world. You found yourself falling slowly for the idea of the Northside, a place free from direct negative association. With the more time you spent in the north, the less you spent in the South and with Toni and Sweet Pea. It had not gone unnoticed, especially by Sweet Pea. He had wanted to like Jughead but your intense interest in him and his world had completely put him off, along with Jugheads initial reluctance to embrace all things Southside.

The rain hit off your tin roof viciously, it was nights like these you spent curled in your trailer often before chaos of a fight would ensue and your trailer would be full of casualties for you to repair. Tonight was no different.

“I mean god forbid you fight when it's dry and sunny and Toy Story isn't on the TV for fuck sake” you finished bonding together Fangs Fogarty’ check gnash with the medical glue, the enduring your rambles. You moved your way along the string of Serpents, repairing each as they told of their fight with the Northsiders before being interrupted by a “psycho girl with a gun”.

“Wait...where's Sweet Pea?!” You searched around the room when you got to the end of the line and they began filtering out.

“He's still with the police, he's been in and out with them for for past month more than any of us so they kept him in longer” Fangs replied as the gang began to move on and out

“wait why so much?”

“All petty crimes, don't worry, it's only your fault” Rocky jeered before exiting.

“Wait what” you caught Fangs shoulder before he could slip out too.

“Well I mean you're not around to rein him in lately so he's bound to go off to his own devices to distract him”

“What do you mean I'm not around?!”

“Gotta ask yourself that question Northsider” Johnny scoffed before you pinned him to the door frame of the trailer with your forearm.

“What was that Johnny?” You bit.

“Noth-nothing yn sorry...thanks for realigning my wrist…”

“That's what I thought” you jostled him back and he half fell out the door down the steps, Fangs laughing at him before he met your glare and stopped.

You began cleaning up the trailer and changing into your PJs before sitting and waiting for Sweet Pea to come with his own injuries. He didn't. You spent the whole night sitting, looking at the door and waiting for your jet black haired friend to come in giving out about something or other. He didn't. You eventually drifted off into a nightmare fueled sleep.

You woke in a cold sweat thinking of all the things that could have happened to him during the fight, during being in the holding in the prison, on the walk home, in his own trailer. The thoughts were eating you alive. 5.30am gleamed on the clock, he had to be home by now.

Dressed in your pj top, shorts and slippers you grabbed a dressing gown and threw it on before dashing across the trailer park to where Sweet Pea lived alone. You banged harshly on the door, fear and cold getting to you.

“Jesus Christ what?!?! Are you trying to wake the whole park?!?!” He half shouted, squinting and groggy. You just dove at him, arms wrapping tightly around his tall build.

“Woah what who died?” You didn't answer and just held him slightly tighter.

“Okay seriously ynn who is dead?! Is it Hot Dog?! Oh please don't say it's Hot Dog!! Say it's Fogarty before saying it's Hot Dog! ” He pulled you inside his disgruntled trailer.

“I thought you died you big jerk! Why didn't you let me know you were okay!?” You went from hugging his chest to hitting his chest.

“Thought you'd be busy checking if your new Northsider boyfriend was okay, didn't want to bother you with my Southside problems” you broke from him and looked extremely confused.

“Don't give me that ynn, we all know it's what you want. A nice, happy, safe home, away from all this Serpent crap, it's why you're the medic now and stopped working jobs with me, don't lie to me”

“Firstly I HAD to stop working jobs, I was the only one my mom had trained in her trade before she died so I didn't have a choice there, secondly I wouldn't dream of leaving my Serpent family, there crap is my crap and thirdly I can have a nice, happy, mostly safe home in the Serpent's, it's what I have!”

“IT'S NOT THE SAME! YOU WANT TO LEAVE! I KNOW YOU DO! YOU SHOULD JUST LEAVE ALREADY AND STOP PROLONGING THE INEVITABLE AND JUST LEAVE! YOU DESERVE BETTER THAN THE SERPENTS! You deserve better than me” his true feelings came to light once more, the eternal and never ending fear of being abandoned again. Your anger drained from you then.

“Sweet Pea I could never ever leave you, I could never ever leave the Serpents. You're more deserving of love then you realise and Sweet Pea-” you took his face in your hands to force him to look down into your eyes. He placed his own hands over yours to hold them there.

“-I love you” your hands on his cheeks went around his neck and you pulled him down to meet your lips. His hands went to your sides. You broke apart and just held each other for a moment, your head buried in his chest and his resting on the top of your head.

“I lo-" it was like his tongue was completely tied in itself and you could see him curse himself. He wasn't used to hearing it, wasn't used to saying it and wasn't use to feeling it.

"its okay" you said into his chest.

"i love you too” he whispered against your hair.

“I'll make sure you have a nice, happy, always safe home ynn, I won't let anyone hurt you”

“You'll never be alone as long as I'm around Sweet Pea, I'll keep you safe from your own thoughts” you kissed again.

“I love you, you giant goof but if you ever scare me like that again, you're going to need to go to a regional hospital” you winked.

“Ive got all I need in the medic that you are” he kissed you sweetly then again

-------------------------------

Much love Xx

Tags: @sunshine51879 @deanilostmyshoe

@goshdarnitthatsalongname @svenjafangirlt

#riverdale fic #riverdale fanfiction #riverdale imagines #riverdale #sweet pea fic #sweet pea imagine #sweet pea x reader #sweetpeaxreader #sweet pea #sweat pea #serpentxreader #southside serpents #serpent

[liraystylesuk]

Facts About Men clothing Revealed

Sitemap boohooMAN is a worldwide on the web manner retailer featuring thousands of styles across menswear to be able to stay ahead of your developments. Shop from our variety of items like t-shirts, jeans, knitwear, sweats, coats and equipment; In order for you it, we're very confident we've got it! There is a quite real (extremely valid) reason Austin Butler was tapped to Perform Elvis inside the approaching biopic. Artisans shell out several hours using our Distinctive getting old approach to give this Naval Aviator’s Flight Jacket the look and feel of 200 provider landings Our exceptional fabrics are eco-welcoming still conduct effectively anywhere you go, from your household towards the gym or studio. Regardless of whether you&apos;re in the market for your first set of great dress sneakers otherwise you&apos;re just searching for a reliable shoe to don for something from an informal evening out to per day within the Place of work, the Allen Edmonds Park Avenue Oxford would be the one particular to suit your needs. When you are over 50, coats may be your best Buddy. They could provide out the best of you and make you are feeling stylish and complex. Don’t only opt for plain coats and blazers as they are not the only option. “I’m a lover of minimalism and understatement. No Bull attire and footwear are usually not flashy, still Possess a bold, special design and style with top quality materials that doesn’t intrude on your own efficiency. So we stretched out and located the best yoga clothes for guys: the best Guys’s tops for yoga, best shorts for yoga, and best trousers for yoga. Get ready to discover your correct zen in sweat-wicking gear. This is actually the vintage Cockpit® Best Gun G-1, similar to the ones worn with the Navy's best in the best! Attributes many different naval patches. This electronic nicely-spring of data has designed it less difficult than ever for type- and quality-aware men to re-discover what every single person knew one hundred decades ago when it came to clothing. Straightforward, understated model would be the identify of the game with this manufacturer. Pairing fabrics built outside of merino wool, celliant, cordura nylon, and four-way extend nylon leads to equipment that not simply appears dapper but performs very well, too. Bonus: Every one of the gear is designed in California. They’re the right mixture of baggy and spring outfits men sort-fitting having a drawstring to uncover your ideal suit. Made out of a medium-bodyweight Mix, they’re also wonderfully gentle to your contact. Although Ralph Lauren is a lot more well-known for its small sleeve polo shirts,  Additionally they make extra formal wear. If you need a top quality dress shirt, Ralph Lauren is a good choice.

Nowadays, dress boots are most often made by shoemakers in the united kingdom and Europe, which isn't shocking supplied the fact that Chelsea boots have been popularized in Britain during the &apos;60s.

Suffice to mention, it’s not on “them” for putting on dresses, it’s on you when you provide a shit. We now have rounded up both of those frilly and frilless variations for guys who want to … dress For those who’re even now heading into the Business office (like our Close friend-crush Mark Bryan) then you may want to choose a little something somewhat more dressed up. This navy Tessilbiella wool skirt need to do the trick. Pair it which has a matching navy jacket for a suitable fashion for almost any occasion. The multicolour floral kurtas with dazzling Nehru jackets are perfect to wear for a spring-summer daytime wedding ceremony. Match these with beautiful printed safas so you are excellent to go! As the model's marketing material places it, “Each individual story we inform depicts the unending battle at the basis of each human triumph.” This gear has that old school really feel using a new university design that performs nicely during the fitness center or on-the-go. Each and every K&G retail store presents an on-site tailoring company to make certain each bit matches towards your specs. With An array of sizes & several different merchandise, we offer standard, trim fit & Massive & Tall dimensions to suit any overall body style. They can be relaxed, and possess ample stretch in them that enables zero restriction. The clothing is presentable and fitted, which in my line of work really is useful.” Possessing taken all this into account, we selected the Moral Code Holden dress shoe as our prime choose for your strong set of wingtips. Built by having an elastane stretch, this Gymshark tank delivers many of the absolutely free motion you'd at any time want from a yoga leading, although the dropped armhole assures your shoulders won't be inhibited from overhead or backwards stretches. are fitted but even have a stretch in them, in order that they’re not restrictive After i’m squatting or undertaking other hip bending actions. Wolf & Shepherd The monk strap is certainly an acquired taste, however the Wolf & Shepherd Gambits are well-produced and packed with sneaker-like ease and comfort that&apos;s great for the adventurous wearer. Consider Exclusive care to not confuse these with Derby or Blucher dress shoes which can be normally falsely advertised as "Oxfords" (particularly in The us exactly where this difference is significantly less generally made).  Remaining a mentor who spends loads of his time working all over New York, for me, the gear is ideal mainly because it can certainly changeover from the work out to the road. It’s the final word manufacturer for me.” informal For several company environments. Shut lacing also creates a sleeker profile which is important for keeping away from a shoe that finally ends up seeking too chaotic and boxy when coupled with its wingtip brogueing. Refresh your workwear staples by using a common and very affordable Topman trench coat spring outfits men that comes in handy for your unforeseen wet times of spring. Theory’s striped slender-in good shape sweater is the perfect lightweight selection for An important impression of minimalist model when paired with cropped extend chinos and basic Veja kicks.

[storywool]

Longing (part 1)

Summary: *SLOOOWWWWBURN* Y/n Y/L/n is a recent graduate from New York University and Sam Wilson’s life long best friend. She wrote her dissertation on a new experimental surgery that could alter the brain’s memory and speech patterns, a surgery that she plans to use on one of the most famous men in America: the Winter Soldier. Part 1 follows her plan to get the surgery approved and the first steps in the process to de-Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes. part 2 // part 3

Word Count: 7,760 

“Which one, the green one or the beige one?” Y/n asked her best friend, holding up two distinctly different blouses over her bare chest. She had just gotten out of the shower, had her hair up in a towel, and nothing on but black pants and a bra. She quickly interchanged the two shirts. The green one was a sheer, long-sleeved v-neck that she often paired with a scarf, and the beige one was this peasant type shirt that Sam Wilson didn’t completely understand. But he eyed both of them carefully, knowing she needed his honest opinion.

“The beige one. Looks more professional.” He replied, taking a sip from his coffee. She nodded and roughly took the garment off the hanger. She forced the top over her towel headdress, and hurried back to her room when she pulled it over. Sam followed her and watched her open up her large makeup bag. She shuffled around in it. “You nervous?” He asked.

She scoffed, “Nah, I’m just meeting with Tony fucking Stark to propose a new, never been done before surgery to potentially ‘fix’ the guy who killed his parents.”

Y/n Y/l/n was a recent graduate from the New York University medical school; in undergraduate school, she majored in biology and psychology. She graduated top of her class with honors, and she had recently taken the year off to travel with Sam. She wasn’t sure what she was doing with her career currently, but after Sam joined the Avengers, and she heard all the stories about James Buchanan Barnes, she seemed to find her calling. She began her focus on neurological, experimental surgery and developed an idea to try on the cryogenically frozen superhero. After proposing the idea to a professor, getting his approval, and talking it over with Sam, she managed to get an interview with Stark (without the help of Sam). She had been preparing for this interview for weeks, and today was the day. Her nerves were absolutely shot and she felt like throwing up.

She laughed to herself. Despite being best friends with Sam and living with him for the past ten years or so, she hadn’t met a single member of the Avengers other than Steve Rogers. She was studying abroad in Norway when Steve and Natasha came to Sam for help, so she didn’t get to meet them then. She hadn’t met them not because she didn’t want to, but she was always busy when they weren’t, and vice versa. But she was about to meet Tony Stark, and terrified didn’t even begin to explain it.

“I can still come with you.” Sam offered.

She shook her head as she finished putting on mascara. “No, it’s fine. I want to get this because my science is sound, not because I know the right people.” Sam always had connections and was always using them to help her. She was thankful for that, but she wanted to do this on her own. She wanted to feel like she earned it.

Sam yawned loudly and stretched. “Well, I believe in you. I gotta go though.” He wrapped Y/n in a side hug so she wouldn’t have to stop putting on her makeup, and kissed her on the cheek.

“Gotta go play cards with Scott some more, you mean?” She smiled cheekily at him through the mirror. Since they didn’t have any cases currently, all Sam seemed to do was hang around Stark Towers and play cards with Scott Lang. But it paid the bills, and he was happy. After his tour with the army, he was never happy, so it was nice to see him this way.

He shot finger guns at her instead of responding. “Good luck!” He called down from the hallway. Y/n heard the front door open and then close.

Y/n finished her makeup, blow dried her hair, and threw on a pair of black heels. After throwing on a coat and hurriedly locking the door, she walked away from their shared house and headed toward the subway station. She took the train that would lead directly to Stark Towers. The whole ride, she rehearsed her ‘elevator pitch’ to herself over and over until she felt she could say it without shaking.

She exited the subway tunnels and entered the bustling New York City streets. Directly in front of her, was the landmark building- ‘Stark’ was written across the top in large, white letters. The building was a staggering 93-story high skyscraper separated into two sections, and lined with wide, blue windows. Y/n took a deep, shaky breath in and moved toward the door when a familiar hand reached out to grab it for her.

The large figure smiled down at her as he held the door open. Y/n looked up at the blonde-haired man and returned the grin. Steve Rogers was looking dapper as ever in a white t-shirt, black skinny jeans, and leather jacket. Y/n mentally laughed at the Captain America patch on the pocket. He looked healthy, considering everything that had happened recently. She couldn’t help but feel her anxiety wash away as she looked up at her friend. Sam was always the one to make her smile and laugh, but Steve always made her feel safe and at home. Part of it was because they were both from Brooklyn and she felt a sense of home in his presence, but he also saved Y/n’s life a few months back. She trusted him ever since.

“Mornin’ beautiful.” He beamed. His voice was chipper, even for him.

“Back at ya, handsome.” She entered the building and walked with Steve to the front desk. “You’re in a good mood.”

“I had my date last night.” He had been talking about this date with Sharon for weeks, and it had finally happened. Y/n wasn’t entirely sure what happened but it was obviously good.

Y/n smiled and gasp lightly, “Yay, finally! I can’t wait to hear all about it. You seein’ her again soon?” She handed the receptionist her I.D.

“What brings you here today?” The receptionist asked.

“Tomorrow night.” Steve replied at the same time.

“Oh fun!” She said to Steve first, and then turned to the receptionist, “I have a meeting with Tony Stark at 9:00.” The receptionist ran her name through the computer, printed out a fancy I.D. badge, and handed the badge and her license back to Y/n. Y/n thanked the woman, and walked toward the elevators with Steve.

“Meeting for what?” He raised an eyebrow and pressed the up button. Y/n swallowed; she hadn’t told Steve about the operation yet because she didn’t want to get his hopes up if she couldn’t fix his best friend. Y/n mulled over whether to answer the question truthfully or not. She didn’t want to mention Bucky, only for Stark to say no.

She cleared her throat, “Uh, I wanted to talk to him about a possible internship.” It wasn’t a total lie. After that, she acted like she was too busy marveling the beauty of the building to answer in depth; again, not a total lie. The lobby was enough to take anyone’s breath away; it had vaulted ceilings, flying buttresses, and all the latest technology displayed on all the walls. The Stark Tower was very much like the old S.H.I.E.L.D tower, except it was a bit smaller and fewer people traveled in and out the doors. Even the elevator was awe inspiring with its glass walls.

“I looked just like that when I first came here.” Steve whispered to her on the packed elevator.

Y/n made light conversation with Steve the rest of the way up. They talked about Steve’s date a little and whether they were going to do their weekly Monday lunch with Sam or not. They agreed that they would, and that she’d meet him on the 60th floor after her interview. He got off and wished her luck. Once he was gone, her anxiety returned immediately, and only rose as the elevator did.

On the 93rd floor, she exited the elevator and entered a waiting room type area. At the front desk sat a brunette woman, who Y/n informed that she was here to meet with Mr. Stark. The receptionist replied curtly, “He’s very busy. Impress him in the first minute or he won’t hear you out.” Y/n nodded, swallowed the lump in her throat, and took a seat. She drummed the folder in her lap with her fingers and bounced her leg up and down. Five minutes passed when the elevator doors opened up and the infamous Tony Stark marched out. He was wearing a tight, black suit; his face was clean shaven despite a few scraps from a possibly recent battle. He said hello to his receptionist and hesitated when he saw Y/n.

She stood up and stuck her hand out to shake his. “Who’s this?” He asked.

“Your nine o’clock, sir.” The receptionist replied.

“Also known as Y/n Y/l/n…sir.” Y/n blushed slightly.

Stark eyed her up and down before turning on his heel. “Y/n, I’m sorry but I don’t have a lot of time. Talk fast.”

Y/n began to panic. Everything she had planned to say was thrown out the window. She stuttered along her words as she tried to follow Stark as best as she could. “I think I uh-” As they walked, several assistants came up to Stark and asked him to sign here, initial there, smile at the camera, etc. Y/n recognized one of the women as Pepper Potts, Tony Stark’s girlfriend. Y/n couldn’t seem to get a word in. “I spoke with my former research professor and-” Y/n stammered as she was interrupted by more people. Stark held up a finger at her to tell her to wait. Y/n could feel her panic and anger rising. He was being completely unprofessional and Y/n did not appreciate it.  

She stopped walking and realized Stark didn’t even know she wasn’t following. He was continuing on farther into the distance. Y/n swallowed her pride, gathered her breath, and shouted over the noise and chatter, “I found a way to fix Bucky!”

Stark stopped moving and turned back to face her slowly. The noise around them died down as her words sunk in. Y/n’s face turned a bright red and she wanted nothing more than to curl up in a ball and cry.

“You what?” He whispered. Y/n couldn’t tell if the whisper was cynical or surprised. She was shaking. Stark could feel his own heartbeat increase slightly. No one outside of the Avengers and the few remaining people from S.H.I.E.L.D knew what happened in Siberia between him, Steve, and Bucky, and even fewer people knew that Bucky went back on the ice.

“I-uh- think I know how to fix Buck- Sergeant Barnes.” She stuttered. She fidgeted with the folder and held it out for him. He quickly swiped it from her hands, and him and Pepper read over the files inside. The folder contained a detailed explanation of the operation, a twenty page research paper, and the cited works. Pepper oh’d and awed as she skimmed the paperwork.

Y/n cleared her throat and continued, “I have a theory that instead of picturing Barnes’ brain as a whole, imagine it as the parts it is.”

She paused to gauge Stark’s reaction. He bit his lip and continued reading. “Come with me.” He said once finished with the files. He slapped the folder close and moved for the door. He held it open for Pepper and Y/n, and she entered what she assumed was Stark’s warehouse/ research lab. He handed the folder to a floating robot that Stark seemed to talk to like it was human. Once the robot scanned the files, he motioned his arm to bring up an electric, holographic copy of the paper. “Continue.”

Y/n cleared her throat again, “Uh, well, you see, the reason he keeps reverting to his Winter Soldier self is because of the sequence of words: Longing, rusted, furnace, daybreak, seventeen, benign, nine, homecoming, one, and freight car. If you remove the significance of those words, especially in that order, theoretically the Winter Soldier side of him can’t be activated.”

“How do you know about all of this?” Pepper asked.

“How do we do that?” Stark asked at the same time.

Y/n decided to answer Stark’s question first. “Well, Wernicke’s area in the temporal lobe is responsible for understanding language and the parietal lobe interprets language. If you operate on those areas and basically rearrange the wiring, it might make him forget those words and the significance of that sequence.”

“Wouldn’t he theoretically forget how to speak?” Stark questioned. He flipped through the holographic research paper and noted points in her paper.

She nodded, “Yes, most likely he’d have to relearn everything. According to my research, he might remember how to speak English since that was his first language, but it’s not a guarantee.”

“Technically none of this is a guarantee.” Pepper mumbled. Y/n tried to suppress giving her the side eye, but let it show slightly.  

Y/n ignored it and continued, “Operating on the temporal lobe would also affect his memory…if we could target the right memories, we could remove the meaning behind those words that trigger him.” Y/n finished and felt utterly proud of herself. It did not go as smooth as she hoped, but she did it.

“We? Ms…” Pepper peered at the name on top of her paper, “Y/n, you shouldn’t even know about this stuff. This is classified information.”

Y/n sighed. She didn’t want to have to name drop, but here she was. “I’m Sam Wilson’s childhood best friend and roommate. He told me all about Bucky, and I researched it in depth. Everyone who has tried to look into this topic has been thinking about Bucky as a whole, not as parts. His whole brain isn’t what’s the problem…those words are.”

They both stared at her. Stark absentmindedly bit his thumb as he thought. Her plans were detailed and her science was sound, it was just the experimentation of it all. He couldn’t attempt a never been done before surgery on Steve’s best friend. He couldn’t be responsible if it didn’t work. His mind was racing with thoughts and he was barely paying attention to the conversation. He heard Y/n say she was best friends with Sam and Steve, that they hadn’t met yet because of poor timing, and that she came up with the idea after a drunken night with Steve.

“Pepper, can you fetch Bruce?” He asked suddenly, knocking Pepper off her momentary soap box. She rolled her eyes and stormed out of the room. Once the doors closed behind her, Stark sighed. “She’s so worried about the politics and logistics. I don’t care how you know this information. I just care about your science.”

He looked Y/n up and down. She looked so nervous and absolutely terrified. It was then that Stark realized he hadn’t said any encouraging words to her yet. He hadn’t said anything to calm her nerves. Y/n was, Stark noticed, a very pretty girl with an obvious brain between her ears. She was of average height, long hair, wide and anxious eyes, and a nervous smile. She was wearing a partially see through top, and Stark could see an arm tattoo poking through. It was typewriter like writing, but Stark couldn’t make out the word.

“What’s your arm tattoo say?”

Y/n yelped slightly and stared down at her arm. “Oh, it uh, says ‘longing’…which I realize is kind of funny now that I’m trying to fix the Winter Soldier whose first trigger word is ‘longing’.” She rubbed the spot on her arm and smiled slightly. The look on Stark’s face told her to continue, “My dad was a writer before he joined the Army. My favorite poem he ever wrote was called ‘Longing’ and he wrote it after his tour. I thought the poem was about love, but after he committed suicide, I realized what it was about. It’s kind of my goodbye to him.”

Stark’s heart sank slightly. He learned so much about Y/n in those few sentences. He felt for her, too because she lost her father, and that was always a hard thing for anyone to face. He cleared his throat. “I’m getting Dr. Banner to review your plans. I think they look pretty solid, but I need another pair of eyes.”

Y/n felt her insides swell. Tony Stark, son of legend Howard Stark, just said her plans looked good! If she were alone, she would have started dancing. “Wait, seriously?” She couldn’t help but say. A wide smile broke across her face. Stark grinned too. She was adorable, for lack of a better word. She reminded him of a girl version of Sam, which would make sense with them being best friends and all.

The doors opened and Bruce Banner entered the room. His hair was an absolute mess, he was wearing a purple button up and gray slacks, and his glasses sat crookedly on his face. His eyes searched the room, stopping only briefly on the holograph projections before laying on Y/n. She stuck her hand out and he shook it firmly as they exchanged introductions.

“Bruce, look through these files.” Stark handed him the physical folder because he preferred paper over electronics. Stark gave him 10 minutes to read over it. Y/n found a chair nearby and pulled up a seat. Stark offered her a drink, and she requested a coffee. She hadn’t had her morning cup yet, and it was catching up to her.

Bruce took off his glasses and bit the end of them when he was finished reading. “It’s sound science…good science at that.” Stark pulled Bruce off to the side and they spoke in hushed whispers. They were talking about the best way to go about the situation. Y/n heard them whisper about rats and test subjects and how to get Bucky to agree. She cleared her throat and the two men turned to her. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I did come up with the idea after all.”

They stared at her for a second, and then Stark broke out laughing. He shrugged his shoulder. “I guess you’re right.” He paused and walked over to Y/n. “What do we need to do next?”

She blinked rapidly, not entirely sure what to say. She hadn’t thought past the interview itself. She guessed that they’d need to get approval from someone to do this research, they’d have to get a team that could work on it together, and they’d have to get something to test the surgery on. And then they’d still have to get Bucky out of the ice and get his approval. She explained this to them, and they agreed. It was set that Tony would file paperwork with the United Nations (per the Sokovia Accords), and then they’d go from there.

“I’ll give you a call when I get word from the U.N. Until then, you should come work here. I could use a brain like yours.” Tony said. She nodded excitedly at the prospect of working at Stark Tower with the Avengers. Tony grinned widely and told Y/n to be back tomorrow.

She left the room, headed to the elevator, and moved down to the floor where Steve said he’d be. She felt absolutely elated. She couldn’t wait to tell Sam, but that also meant telling Steve. She exited the elevator and came face to face with the whole Avengers crew. Wanda and Vision were talking in the corner, Sam and Scott were playing cards (typical), Steve was reading Harry Potter per Y/n’s request, and Natasha and Clint were playing chess. Y/n noted that Thor wasn’t there, though. She chuckled at how…normal they all looked. They stared up at her as the elevator opened.

Sam jumped up from his spot immediately and practically skipped over to her. “How’d it go?”

She beamed up at him and whispered, “Stark’s sending the paperwork to the U.N. to get approval. Until then, he gave me a job working with him!”

Sam yelped and pulled Y/n into a bone crushing hug. “I’m so proud of you!” Sam let her go and turned back to the group. “Guys, this is my best friend Y/n. Y/n, these are the guys.”

Y/n waved nervously as Natasha said, “So you’re the infamous Y/n Steve and Sam keep talking about.” She rose from her seat and shook Y/n’s hand. She smiled warmly. Y/n wished in that moment that she had met Natasha earlier. She seemed like such a nice person.

The rest of the Avengers greeted her as she made her rounds before she made her way over to Steve. He put his book down when she got to him. “By the look on your face, I’d say it’s good news.” He chuckled. Y/n found herself suddenly very nervous.

“Can we go for a walk?” She asked. Steve raised an eyebrow, but nodded nonetheless. She turned back to Sam and told him the plan. He offered to be there, but Y/n knew she needed to tell Steve alone.

They entered the surprisingly empty elevator. Steve opened his mouth to speak, but Y/n cut him off. “Not yet.” Y/n said. He closed his mouth and kept his eyes fixed on the door. Y/n could feel her heart beat in her throat and found herself biting her nails nervously. Steve could sense her unease, and realized he too was growing anxious.

They exited Stark Towers, walked a few blocks east, and came to their favorite coffee shop. This shop was the birthplace of Steve and Y/n’s friendship, and the foreground of several wonderful memories. The most recent memory being the day Steve finally asked Sharon out. Sam and Y/n yelled so loudly that they were almost kicked out.

Today’s news would either bring Steve joy or terror, and both responses scared Y/n. They ordered lattes from the barista and found seats away from everyone else. They sat down and Y/n sighed. She looked around at her surroundings and thought of what to say to him.

“So…how’d your date with Sharon go?”

He laughed, knowing she was stalling. “It was really nice. I picked her up from her apartment, we went to that restaurant you suggested,” Y/n chuckled at that additive, “and then we went for a walk in Central Park. I showed her all of the places that were there when I was a teenager and that are still standing. And then we went back to my place and…”

Y/n squealed, “Steve Rogers you dirty grandpa! I never would have pegged you for a sex on the first date kinda guy!”

Steve sipped his coffee before replying. He couldn’t seem to wipe the smile off his face. “Well, she’s not your average girl, so I didn’t think what I usually did was the right way to go.” Y/n felt herself blush and her heart swim. She was so happy for Steve.

“I want details.” Steve told her all the nasty, probably too-much-information moments shared between Sharon and Steve last night. She loved that she could have these kinds of conversations with Steve, despite how conservative he usually was about relationship stuff.

Once their moment passed and Y/n was completely caught up on the night before, and Steve assumed Y/n was ready to talk, he cleared his throat, “So, is everything okay?”  

Y/n smiled sheepishly. “Yes and no.” She took a deep breath. “So I got a job with Stark to work on a new operation.”

Steve raised his eyebrows and grinned. “That’s incredible! So why the long face?”

She thumbed the side of her warm coffee. “The operation is to basically rewire the parts of the brain that deal with speech while leaving the other parts not tampered with. We’re basically going to remove the meaning behind words and re-teach the patient how to speech, essentially. It’s never been done before and there are a lot of things that could go wrong, and Stark and Banner seem optimistic. But-”

Steve’s face dropped. “But,” he paused, “who’s the patient?”

Y/n hesitated. Steve reached out his hand for hers and squeezed it. She didn’t know whether to build up to the name drop or just go for it. Either way, Steve would have questions.

“It’s Bucky.”

Silence fell over the table. Her gaze fell to the table as Steve retracted his hand from Y/n’s. He left his mouth agape. He frowned. Y/n swallowed the lump in her throat and felt like she was going to cry if Steve didn’t say anything. But Steve was too dumbfounded to speak. Y/n hurried to formulate sentences in her mind to ease the tension growing between them.

“The only way to get him off the ice is to find some way to get rid of his Winter Soldier side. At least that’s what you told me. Since that night, I’ve been thinking of ways to…” She paused, searching for the right word but came up short, “I guess, fix him?” She glanced up at Steve and his expression was unchanged. Y/n reached out her hand this time and spoke to him, not at him. She stared into his eyes as she spoke, “I know how much he means to you. You’ve done so much for me, and all I want to do is repay those favors.”

“And you thought a never been done surgery would do that?” He snapped. Y/n was taken aback. She couldn’t believe his response.

“Steve, you know just as well as I do that the only way to help Bucky is to do things that have never been done before.” She scoffed and crossed her arms. She was thought about what to say next. She didn’t really want to tell him what inspired her to help, but it was the only way to get him to understand. “You told me about him and who he was before he fell off that train, and my heart hurt because of how much you cared about him. I’ve never seen anyone care about someone else so damn much, and if anyone cared about me that much, I’d do whatever it took to get them back. All I want to do is bring him back. After you told me all about him, before and after the Winter Soldier, I changed my major in school so I was better suited to help him. I’ve literally been preparing for this since I graduated from undergrad.” She didn’t mean to say it so viciously, but she felt like Steve doubted her abilities. She also felt embarrassed at her admission. While she had Sam, and Steve cared enough, she never had anyone love her like Steve loved Bucky. It didn’t necessarily make her jealous, but a large part of her wanted someone who would give life and limb for her.

Steve diverted his eyes and bit his lip. He was ashamed that he went off on Y/n the way he did. But he was scared, and he wasn’t sure how to admit that. The thought of getting Bucky back only to have him disappear again was too much to handle. He couldn’t leave his best friend up to chance. He trusted Y/n. He didn’t trust fate.

Steve cleared his throat and turned his attention back to Y/n. “How will it work?”

Y/n stared at Steve and blinked tears from her eyes. She was certain Steve wasn’t going to allow them to go through with it. She explained the possibility of him forgetting how to speak, the way they could change some of his memories, and the likelihood of recovery. She reiterated that Stark’s technology is unlike any in a standard hospital, and that she would not be performing the surgery directly.

“Obviously, this all ultimately hinges on approval from the U.N. and if Bucky says yes.”  She finished. They had finished their coffees and almost an hour had passed. Steve was visibly processing her words still, parsing each and every sentence she said. They left the coffee shop and headed back to Stark Towers. They got back on the elevator, which was empty. They hadn’t exchanged words since they left the coffee shop, until they were halfway back to the 60th floor.

“By the way, you do have people who care about you as much as I do about Buck. You got me after all.” Steve whispered to Y/n, and reached out his hand to take hers. They intertwined their fingers, and he squeezed lightly. Steve smiled down at her. She suddenly felt better about everything that had happened.

That night, Sam and Y/n were bundled up on the couch and sharing a cheese pizza. They were watching the latest episode of Game of Thrones when Sam paused the TV. He turned his body to face Y/n and cleared his throat. He gave her a look that said ‘we need to talk’.

“Oh god, why that face?” She asked, throwing down her plate.

Sam held up his hands in mock surrender, “I’m just worried about this whole thing.”

“What whole thing?” Y/n crossed her arms and sat up higher in her seat. She, of course, knew what Sam was referring to, but she wanted to hear him say it.

“The Bucky thing-” Y/n tried to interject, but Sam kept on, “I’m not worried about you at all. I trust you more than my own doctor, who’s a Jewish man in his fifties and has been a doctor for the latter half of his life. I’m worried about Bucky.”

Y/n raised her eyebrow, “Why?”

He laid his head on the arm he had stretched on the back of the couch. “You know why…he’s dangerous, Y/n. People think of him as the bad guy, and I don’t know what he’ll do when he comes out of the ice.”

Y/n reached out and grabbed his hand. She squeezed lightly. “A risk I’m willing to take.”

A week had passed, and Y/n was now officially a Stark Industries employee (paperwork took longer to process than expected). She returned to Stark Towers with Sam, just like Stark had instructed. It was a little after ten when they arrived. It was later than usual, but since they worked on their own schedules, it wasn’t a big deal. She waited on the 60th floor with the rest of the Avengers until Stark came and got her. She talked to Steve about his night with Sharon, and they tiptoed around the one conversation they really wanted to have. Sam could feel the awkward tension. He ignored it though, chalked it up to misinterpretation.

The Avengers talked about their nights as they all settled in for the day. Sam and Y/n saw the new Wonder Woman movie, Steve went on his date, and Scott got to see his daughter for a while. The rest of them reported nothing interesting, so they spent the time talking about Wonder Woman and how badass she was.

A voice spoke over the PA for Y/n to come to Stark’s office. The group oh’d like kids in a classroom, and one of them just got called to the principal’s office. Y/n rolled her eyes, bid ado, and headed to her first day at her new job.

As soon as she exited the elevator, Stark greeted her. He handed her a folder immediately. He turned to walk away, and Y/n followed closely. “Your file…while I prefer electronic everything, we kept paperback-ups. I didn’t put your name on it because didn’t know your title.” He explained.

Y/n smiled down at her manila envelope and opened it. Inside were standard documents like her birth certificate, resume, and photo copies of her license. “Oh, it’s Doctor Y/n Y/l/n.”

Stark stopped in his tracks. “Why didn’t you correct me when I called you ‘Ms.’?”

She laughed lightly. She got that question so often. “It’s just a title-”

“A title that you worked on for years.” Stark cut her off, and laughed. Y/n shrugged her shoulders. She didn’t go to medical school for a title; she went to help people.

Stark continued to walk and show Y/n around the office. He pointed to a room that was his office and told her to go there whenever she needed anything. He then informed her that her personal office was on the 61st floor, right next to Bruce’s office. Stark handed her an I.D. badge to use for all the doors she would need access to.

They reached the lab, and Y/n noticed that it was messier than last time. Bruce was already there too, sitting at the table and reading over a letter.

“As fun as it’s been showing you around, we need to get down to business.” Stark said, clapping his hands together as he did so. Bruce handed her the paper. At the top was the United Nation’s logo. Y/n glanced up at Stark and Bruce expectantly, and then hurriedly read over the paper.

“We have granted permission for your team to pursue this research on the condition that no other humans are given the treatment until further approval.” She read aloud. Her heart was beating so loudly in her ears, she felt like she was screaming. They got approval! She squealed then looked back up at the two men. “I’m gonna give myself ten seconds to celebrate, so cover your ears.”

They plugged their ears with their fingers and Stark held up his watch to count the seconds. Their fingers in their ears did nothing to block out Y/n’s piercing screams. She danced in her spot, and jumped up and down. As soon as Stark signaled that her ten seconds were up, she shut her mouth and stopped jumping, but couldn’t wipe the smile off her face. Bruce and Stark grinned widely, too.

“So what do we do next?” She asked. She drummed her hands on the table in excitement.

“We wake Bucky up.” Stark replied.

Good feeling gone.

“Already?” She questioned nervously. She knew this day would come, but did not anticipate it being today.

Stark shrugged, “No point in doing anything else if he says no.”

Y/n thought for a moment and absentmindedly thumbed her necklace. She cleared her throat and nodded, “I’ll go get Steve.”

Steve tapped his foot nervously. He bit his thumbnail and exhaled loudly. Y/n glanced up at him, wrapped her arm through his crossed ones, and squeezed his forearm. They stood with their arms interlocked as Stark’s team of scientists rushed around the room to prepare for Bucky’s ‘unthawing’.

They stood in an open room with white ceilings and floors. The doctors wore white lab coats and they walked around with white clipboards and white glasses. Y/n noted how sterile everything seemed, and how unease it all made her. She was nervous for obvious reasons, but the severity and rigidness of the room, which was so unlike the rest of Stark Towers, was the number one cause for concern.

They wheeled Bucky’s sleeping chamber out onto the main floor where Steve and Y/n waited. Steve’s breath hitched in his throat upon laying his eyes on Bucky’s cryogenically frozen body. Y/n felt her heart stop too. She heard the stories, saw the news, but seeing him in person was something completely different. Seeing his closed eyes, his peaceful face, and his non-ageing body in person was unreal. She even felt a little guilty for thinking he was attractive.

Stark turned back to Steve and Y/n. “Ready?”

Y/n nodded and Stark dipped his head slightly. Steve wasn’t really ready, but he was as ready as he was ever going to be. On the bright side, he’d have his best friend again, but at what cost? Stark moved his attention back to the control panel in front of him. He twisted and flipped some buttons, and with a lot less pomp and circumstance than Y/n imagined, the machine hissed with the sound of thawing ice. The latch on the door turned as the door moved to open itself, exposing Bucky’s body to the fresh air.

As the ice thawed and the hissing grew quieter, time seemed to stop. They all waited in anticipation for that moment when Bucky would take his first breath and he’d open his eyes. And as much as Y/n wanted to watch this moment happen, she couldn’t help but watch her best friend instead. She knew this whole thing was taking a toll on Steve, and he was being such a good sport about it all, but being in the moment was something completely new. Y/n watched Steve’s heartbroken eyes as she heard Bucky’s first inhale. Steve squeezed her hand tighter, and he seemed to start shaking under her touch.

It was when Bucky started coughing loudly that Y/n turned her attention to him. He sat up in his seat so he could see; his flesh hand covered his mouth as he coughed. He eyed the room around him, but calmed down when he recognized his surroundings and most importantly, recognized Steve. His eyes seemed to soften at the sight of his best friend. “Steve…” Bucky whispered. Steve unwrapped himself from Y/n and ran over to Bucky. He sat up in the chamber and wrapped Steve in a tight hug.

“How long was I under?” Bucky asked Steve. Y/n traded a glance with Tony and noticed his rigid stance and nervous expression. The air was tense, and Y/n didn’t know which side of the tension she belonged on.

“A little over two years.” They separated and a man brought Bucky a black t-shirt and gray sweatpants to change into. Bucky hurriedly pulled the shirt over his bare chest and the sweatpants over his boxers. Steve helped him out of the chamber. Bucky wavered slightly, as he wasn’t used to using his legs. He wrapped his metal arm over Steve’s shoulders, and Steve wrapped his arm around Bucky’s waist.

“Why am I back? Did you find a way to fix me?” Y/n’s heart sank at Bucky’s phrasing. He was scared of himself, and Y/n couldn’t imagine what that must be like.

“We think we did.” Steve replied. He motioned back to Y/n, who stood awkwardly in the background with a clipboard and nervous expression. Steve moved Bucky over to her. She put out her hand for him to shake; his touch was cold, but his skin was soft. Y/n’s cheeks reddened and her stomach twisted.

“This is Dr. Y/n Y/l/n: genius, comedian, beauty, and your savior.”

Y/n rolled her eyes and smiled. “Genius is a bit much, but the rest is pretty accurate.” That made Bucky chuckle and Y/n felt slightly better.

“Ah, a Brooklyn gal?” He joked. Bucky studied Y/n from her black boots up to her eager eyes and kind smile. Her homely presence and gentle touch gave Bucky a weird sense of calmness. Bucky noted her awkward cuteness, and grinned.

“Born and raised. Steve and I actually met each other in Brooklyn one day when Sam came to visit my family in Brooklyn.” She traded a glance with Steve, “Anyways, it’s wonderful to meet you. Steve’s told me all about you.”

“Y/n’s been working on a new operation with Stark and Banner.” Steve added.

Bucky did not take his eyes off of Y/n. “What you got for me, Doll?” He asked Y/n, adding a wink at the end for good measure. Y/n remembered Steve telling her that his catchphrase was ‘doll’. She was glad to see that that hadn’t changed.

She laughed, “Well it’s a lot actually. Why don’t we move somewhere more comfortable?” She turned to Tony and nodded at him to follow. Steve, Bucky, Tony, and Y/n moved toward the elevator to head to the top floor. On the elevator, Bucky and Steve chatted the whole way up. Bucky asked about girls, and Y/n was prepared to hear his rant about Sharon that Y/n got months ago, but came up short. He gave a short ‘no’ and Y/n laughed.

The boys turned to her. Bucky leaned against the elevator wall and eyed her. He knew Steve wasn’t being completely honest with him, and Y/n’s laugh gave that away. But he didn’t press the issue; he’d only been out of the ice for five minutes, no point in pissing people off. “What about you, Y/n? You got anybody?”

“I live with Sam. That’s enough to keep anyone from settling down.” She said, making Bucky chuckle again. She told him about how she knew Sam since elementary school, how they’ve been best friends since middle school, and how they’ve been living together since her senior year of high school (really since her dad died, but she wasn’t about to share that).

The elevator reached their designated floor, and everyone filed out one by one. Steve grabbed Y/n’s arm to hold her back as Bucky and Tony moved to the lab.

“What’s wrong?” Y/n questioned, worry lacing her words. Steve waited until they were completely out of ear shot.

“I’m worried about him.”

“What do you mean?”

He crossed his arms, “He hasn’t acted like this since before he fell. I’m afraid that the honeymoon will pass and he’ll snap.”

Y/n reached out and rubbed his bicep. She sighed- she totally understood his fear, but the constant comments from Sam and Steve about Bucky being ‘dangerous’ were starting to piss her off. She swallowed her annoyance and paid attention to her friend. He was so worried about his best friend. Y/n wasn’t completely sure what to say to qualm his anxiety. She grabbed his arm, pulled him into a hug, wrapped her arm around his waist, and squeezed. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and squeezed too. Y/n sighed again. She loved his hugs.

“I know you’re worried. But give him time- give us time. We’ll get him back to the old him.”

They separated and Steve placed a light kiss on her forehead. “I trust you.”

Y/n grinned, “I know. Now, let’s go convince him.”

They walked into the room, and Bucky and Tony were not speaking, which they expected. Bucky was tinkering with a piece of technology that he shouldn’t have been touching and Tony was off in the distance, preparing for their meeting. Y/n noticed Bruce in the corner peering over a computer screen.

“He’s been touching stuff since he got in here.” Bruce said, pointing over to Bucky.

Steve scoffed, “Well he’s a person, not a dog.” Bruce smiled sarcastically. Y/n sat her stuff down on the table and moved over to Bucky. He reached out to touch a laser pointer that definitely would have severed a finger if he’d gotten any closer.

“Don’t touch that.” Y/n yelped. She grabbed his hand and pulled it away from the machine. “If you want to keep what fingers you have left I mean.” She explained at his confused face. She smiled, hoping he’d laugh at her feeble attempt at a joke; he did, wide and unapologetic. She thought it was curious that he seemed so jovial when everyone kept telling her he was the opposite.

He stared at the equipment in front of him, and Y/n stared at him. “Bucky, Y/n.” Steve said. They turned to him sitting at the table, Tony and Bruce patiently waiting. Tony had a file prepared for Bucky and sat it in front of him. Y/n stood at the head of the table with Tony. She suddenly felt super nervous again.

Tony pulled up some of the holographic images again. The first image was a picture of Bucky’s brain, with the temporal lobe highlighted. Y/n cleared her throat and looked at Bucky, “So I’m gonna start off by saying that I came up with these ideas, but I won’t actually be performing the surgery.” She chuckled. Bucky did not react, but she expected that much.

She went through the surgery process, what to expect, how he might forget how to speak for a while, and how Tony and Bruce knew what they were doing. Y/n felt Bucky’s apprehension rise. Tony was going on some tangent about the surgery, when Y/n held up a hand to cut him off.

“What questions do you have?” She asked Bucky at his confused face. His eyes crinkled in the corners as he smiled, and Y/n’s heart swelled slightly.

He forced a laugh, “I guess I just don’t understand how a surgery’s gonna fix everything.”

“To be completely honest, it won’t. Part of the treatment is doing therapy a few times a week…with me.” Steve’s eyes widened a bit, he didn’t know about this part, “Part of what we will do is figure out the meaning behind your trigger words, and try to help you heal from the trauma you’ve experienced. Bucky,” She spread her hands on the table and leaned forward to talk directly to him, “you’ve been through a shit ton-”

Tony held his hand up to stop her, “The idea being that to cope with these issues, you need to talk about these issues.”

Y/n shrugged and tugged at the end of her sleeves. Bucky assumed it was a nervous tick of hers. “What I was going to say, but more eloquent.” Bucky thumbed through the papers in the folder, reading over the fine print and scientific jargon to see if he could understand the operation more. “You don’t have to make a decision today. Read over the file tonight, we’ll answer any remaining questions in the morning, and then we can go from there.” Y/n responded, rubbing her hands together and trading glances with the men in the room.

Steve sat forward in his seat and clasped his hands together on the table. “I’ll show Bucky where his room his. We’ll just meet in the morning.”

They all agreed and parted ways. Bucky, head buried in the file, walked with Steve to the elevator to go to the 50th floor where Bucky would be staying. Steve requested that Tony prepare the room next to Bucky’s for himself; that way he could be close to Bucky in the off chance something happened. Y/n finished up some last minute work with Tony and Bruce before retiring to the 60th floor to pick Sam up.

“How’s my favorite scientist?” Sam asked upon seeing Y/n.

“Stark’s upstairs.” She sarcastically replied. She grabbed the coat from Sam’s outstretched hand and threw it over her shoulders. She sighed loudly as she did so.

“Rough day?”

She nodded, “I don’t know who’s stressing me out more, Bucky or Steve.”

#marvel #marvel imagine #marvel fan fiction #bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers #sam wilson #scott lang #marvel imagines #marvel fan fic #bruce banner #tony stark #post civil war #marvel au #bucky barnes au #slowburn #very slowburn

[mechagalaxy]

John T. Mainer(28840): The Smiling One with Melissa Leathers Powell (82360)

The Smiling One

Faction War side stories. Bolverk Borson here. I was running some side missions out of Cogwork Port. The war was digging in to the Bouncing Blue Brigade and Bouncing Blue Berserkers Hatoraid supplies, and resupply was suddenly either stupidly expensive or totally unavailable. Jessica Rabbit batted her baby blues at me and sent me down the rabbit hole to find out why. Turns out that psychotic bastard Mainer, in charge of the Berserkers sent the Smiling One, Melissa Powell to do the same. I cut her trail two gates out of Cogwork.

My official report was simple, and I have seen it cross the newsfeeds, so you all know the official story. What you don’t know is why we call her the Smiling One.

[Begin Transcript]

Bootleggers

You have been investigating a sudden rash of hijacked hatoraid shipments. Every one of the shipments was on the way to Cogwerk Port. Someone is trying to create an artificial shortage and drive up the prices. It doesn’t take long to connect the dots leading back to the Darknoll gang.

You head out to search their usual hideouts. As you approach you see someone has already engaged the Darknoll smugglers. The battle is all but over by the time you get there. Apparently recent King of the Mountain Div 2 Winner Melissa Powell figured it out before you and took action.

You do get mentioned as an “also assisting” in the news articles about the story and a small reward from the Games Commission.

You gain a Large Hatoraide

[End transcript]

Its not a lie, it just leaves a few things out. I got to the battle too late to see more than the wreckage, but on seeing Bouncing Blue on the IFF, I sent a hail and got a reply. A simple text that Melissa had taken two pirates alive, and was going to meet Duke Crimson at LaSalles to exchange her prisoners for interrogation. I was given the chance to sit in and carry the information back direct for the Brigade.

I parked in back, LaSalles manager and I go way back, due to a slight misunderstanding involving a cabinet minister, her twin sister, and a long mecha chase to escape husband number three and his AFF hired guns. Bottom line is, I can use the back entrance and skip the lineup.

I slipped in and saw Melissa sitting calmly at the back of the booth. A single sweating pirate sat on the chair in front, not restrained. His hands were flat on the table, and shaking. He wore a nervous smile and tan coveralls with unit patches stripped off, two empty holsters that once held weapons I bet he wished he still held.

How to describe Melissa. Well, she wore her Bouncing Blue coveralls half zipped, showing a decent amount of cleavage and a body that was comfortably lived in, not a delicate supermodel, but a woman who was comfortable enough in her abilities to not give a fiddlers fart about decorations or display. Her leather jacket had the dreaded Berserkers Logo, and the ragged bunny ears she wore on her head proudly proclaimed her membership in the Bunny clans. She was not smiling. Her face was calm and composed like some temple statue.

Duke Crimson walked in from the front entrance, he was sweating, and his bodyguards tried to restrain him rather than let him approach Melissa unescorted, but he shrugged them off. Pasted on his cheesy signature grin and approached her like a used fish salesman approaching a Great White Shark to discuss her dinner plans.

Melissa called me to join them and I slid into the booth. Duke Crimson was discussing payment terms.

“……and another two hundred if you can convince him to talk.” Duke Crimson was saying.

Melissa smiled for the first time, and my blood went a little cold. She turned to the pirate and asked him, sweetly as any kindergarten teacher.

“Sweety, tell the nice Duke how cooperative you intend on being. You are the cooperative and polite one, aren’t you?”

The pirate blanched and began babbling.

“Names, dates, account numbers, who we bribed, transponder codes, mobile gate frequencies, I got it all man, whatever you want, I swear!”

Duke Crimson looked surprised, but Melissa slapped her hand on the table and looked at the pirate again and asked sternly, like an unhappy kindergarten teacher now looking at a mess on her floor.

“I swear, what? Do you want me to treat you as impolite? Hmmm?” She asked

“No MA’AM, No ma’am! I mean whatever you want SIR!” The pirate was really sweating now, so was Duke Crimson. As I was beginning to wonder what put the fear of the gods into this Pirate, none other than Artemis Molly stepped up to our table.

“Melissa, I was so excited to hear about your kill. 40, 000 kills is quite the total. Here is a little token of our esteem. A hundred and fifty niodes, from those who appreciate your artistry with mecha, not simply the wars and pirate hunting, but your innovative tree decorating skills as well”

The two women exchanged a laugh and hug after Artemis Molly put the niodes cask on the table. Duke Crimson swore under his breath, and the pirate started to cry, and if my nose was correct, wet himself. What the hell was that about a tree? A second question crossed my mind and was out of my mouth before thinking.

“Melissa,” I asked “Didn’t you say you captured two pirates? What happened to the second one?”

Melissa smiled widely, and Duke Crimson went bone white, the pirate shuddered and wept openly as she replied softly.

“I am afraid he was impolite, and quite uncooperative. I gave him time to reconsider his life choices in the parking lot. He is, “ She smiled like a cat and made a little laugh “hanging out while we talk, then can choose to stay with me or go with the good Duke here for interrogation”

I really wanted to see what she was smiling about, and why the collection of Duke Crimson’s hardcase bodyguards kept shuddering when they looked this way. I walked with Melissa out to her mecha, having volunteered to carry the niode chest for her to stow in her X-mas tree.

There was a crowd gathered around it. The warning lights lit it in full holiday cheer, and its turrets spun in counter rotation gently at idle, like normal. What was not normal was the crowd staring up at the top where some pilots mounted a star or an angel. Holy crudsuckers. That was where the weeping sound was coming from. I guess I found the other pirate. Something other than an angel impaled helplessly on top of her Xmas tree.

“Please, please, please let me down. I will be good ma’am. I will be so good. I will tell Duke Crimson everything I promise”

I looked over at Melissa Powell, the Smiling One, and her smile was a thing that could part the damned in hell and bring the silence of a library to a city in full riot. I grinned in return, it was a beautiful thing that this Mecha Galaxy still held wonders and terrors. Like Melissa Powell, the Smiling One of the Spirit of Bunny.

John T Mainer 28840

[fengshuiatl]

Go’s Story - Finale

The conclusion of Go’s Story. If you read all of it, thanks a bunch. I don’t know if I’ll do anything similar for the next game I run, but I had fun with this. Let me know if you dig it, and one I can figure out how to enable https encryption on my music server, I’ll share the soundtrack.

EXT. HIDEKI'S FARM - DAY

              Go and April emerge from the forest nearby Hideki's property,

              a small shack with a tiny parcel of fenced in land.  A few

              cows amble lazily about their pen as their handler, FUSAO

              HIDEKI stomps out of the shack, a bundle of grain under one

              arm and a huge bottle of beer over the other shoulder.

              More stoutly built than Go and scruffier, but the family

              resemblance is certainly there and it takes Go aback as he

              watches the elder Hideki empty grain into a trough.  April,

              dressed in a traditional kimono, approaches and bows.

                                  APRIL

                        Excuse me, lord, a word?

              Fusau looks over his shoulder as one of cows greedily guzzles

              from the beer bottle.

                                  FUSAO

                        I am no lord, lady.  You may have

                        many words, so long as none of them

                        are flowery.

                                  APRIL

                        But I was told you were the chief

                        of security for the Akashi Castle?

                                  FUSAO

                        Perhaps your source of information

                        was not privy to the past few days.

                                  GO

                        What happened?

                                  FUSAO

                        A representative from the shogunate

                        arrived with an order for us to

                        return to Edo, immediately with no

                        explanation. I sensed chicanery,

                        so I asked what would occur should

                        we refuse.

                                  GO

                        So then?

              He gestures around at the meager grounds of his farm.  The

              cow, for its part looks dejected at the brief moment of being

              denied booze.

                                  FUSAO

                        My most loyal men were scattered to

                        the winds as ronin, and the others

                        went back to the shogunate as

                        ordered. One soldier that left did

                        me a kindness in allowing me to buy

                        this hovel and cattle from him, so

                        here I am.

              Fusao wrests the beer bottle away from the cow and begins to

              massage the beast with what can best be described as a

              resigned vigor.

                                  APRIL

                        Do you have any idea why this was

                        done?

              The weary ronin sighs, glancing over his shoulder at the pair

              before retrieving a telescoping lens from his jinbei and

              peering out toward Akashi Castle, a dot out toward the

              horizon.

                                  FUSAO

                        I have kept watch over the castle

                        ever since I have been here. One

                        day ago, a small group escorted a

                        foreigner into the castle. Aside

                        for some guardians in the towers,

                        he is alone. Dressed like him....

              Fusao finally notices that he's standing in front of his

              descendant and stops, examining him.  April startles and

              frowns apologetically.

                                  APRIL

                        My lord, if you could-

              Go is snapped into action at the mention of the foreigner,

              looking around.

                                  GO

                        I need a horse.

              He spots two Kiso horses at the far end of the pen and takes

              one by its reins.

                                  FUSAO

                        What's this?!

              April rushes to join Go on top of the small horse.

                                  APRIL

                        Sonno joi, Hideki-dono!

              With that, Go and April are galloping off toward the castle,

              a look somewhere between puzzlement and a renewed fire in his

              eyes.

              Through the forest, Go effortlessly guides the Kiso through

              the trees and brush at breakneck speed.

                                  APRIL

                        Didn't figure you for the type that

                        knows horses.

                                  GO

                        I don't.

                                  APRIL

                        Well hell.

              Once they clear the tree line there's only a small patch of

              grass and a moat separating them from the castle.

                                  APRIL

                        Do you smell that?

                                  GO

                        What?

              A bullet whizzes by the both of them as the guys in the

              towers snap to attention.

                                  APRIL

                        Match cord.  We're running out of

                        room...

                                  GO

                        Hang on.

              Go snaps at the reins and the horse goes even faster as

              bullets from matchlock rifles impact all around them.

              He rears back on the reins and in an instant they're vaulting

              over the moat.  At the top of the arc, April jumps off of

              horseback toward the nearest tower.

              EXT. AKASHI CASTLE - CONTINUOUS

              April's hair billows in the breeze as she pulls out the

              needles holding it in place.  She gives one a new home in the

              chest of one guardsman, and the other in the eye socket of

              another, sending the shot intended for her skyward.

              Go lands outside the castle walls and by the time he's made

              around to the front gate, April's opening it for him from the

              ramparts.

                                                             CUT TO:

              In the center of the grounds, LENNY stands, every bit as

              dashing as when we first saw him in the passenger seat of

              Go's getaway car.  This time, he's in a commodore's uniform,

              and is wide-eyed at Go's arrival.

                                  LENNY

                        Holy shit...

              Go dismounts, briefcase in hand, never taking his eyes off

              Lenny.

                                  LENNY

                        Look who it is.  Good to seeya man.

              Lenny's backing away, smirking and chattering while Go keeps                             advancing.

                                  LENNY

                        How's Laur-

              The distance is finally closed with a haymaker across Lenny's

              jaw.

                                  GO

                        Shut up.

              Lenny tumbles to the ground after a thrust kick, and Go stays

              on top of him.

                                  GO

                        She loved you like a brother, you

                        son of bitch.

              A kick to the ribs.

                                  GO

                        We all did!

              A stomp to the back.

                                  GO

                        We were like family!

              But when Go kneels down to deliver a punch, the fist gets

              caught.

                                  LENNY

                        That was always the problem, Go ol'

                        buddy.

              Lenny hisses, blood dripping from his lips as stands, holding

              Go in an armbar.

                                  LENNY

                        YOU were all about family.

              A KICK to the ribs.

                                  LENNY

                        I was all about the score.

              He hurls Go over his shoulder, SLAMMING him to the ground.

                                  LENNY

                        And this place was the big one.

                                                             CUT TO:

              April's finished with the last of the guards and is trying to

              get a clear shot at Lenny when she can hear hoofbeats in the

              distance.

                                  APRIL

                        Oh no.

              A horde of shogunate samurai, wearing the same crests as the

              guards are heading straight for the castle.

                                                             CUT TO:

              Lenny's slinging Go around the castle grounds like a ragdoll.

              He's no bigger than Go or even fighting with any more

              technique, but he just seems ferociously stronger.

                                  LENNY

                        See, while you guys were fine to

                        call the old man a kook, take his

                        money and do the job.  I did a

                        little research.  Got myself an in

                        with the other team.

              He picks up Go by the throat, looking him in the eye.

                                  LENNY

                        For the power they gave me, tying

                        me to this place?  I'd sell all of

                        you out all over again if I could.

                                                             CUT TO:

              As samurai approach, April tries to slow them down with the

              rifles but it's futile.  For every shot she gets off, she has

              to dodge a hail of arrows and bullets.  Just then:

                                  FUSAO (O.S.)

                        Sonno joi!

              Comes the battle-cry, echoed by six of his compatriats as

              they charge into the shogunate samurai's flank on horseback

              armed and outfitted in full regalia.  The shogunate's forces,

              though at least three times the number, crumble at the

              advance.

              April smiles and turns back toward Go and Lenny.

                                                             CUT TO:

              Lenny turns his head at the commotion.  Go, finding an

              opening, kicks him square in the balls.

                                  LENNY

                        Fuck!

              Go tumbles to the ground, landing next to the briefcase as

              Lenny staggers for a brief moment, recovering quickly.

                                  LENNY

                        Dirty pool, pal...

              With Go on his hands and knees, Lenny's sizing him up for

              more punishment.  His concentration's broken by a ball of

              lead embedding itself in his shoulder.

                                  LENNY

                        Agh! You're fuckin' kidding me!

              Lenny turns find April staring down the sight of a rifle.

                                  LENNY

                        Who're you?  He sure works quick.

                        Well wait your turn, I'll get to

                        you in a se-

              It's in that moment that Lenny realizes that April's staring

              PAST him.  Too late to matter, as Go fells him with the

              briefcase upside his dome.

              Go's on top of him in an instant, slamming the briefcase into

              Lenny's skull, over and over until he's heaving for breath.  

              He tosses the briefcase aside and it snaps open when it hits

              the ground.  Go pulls the Automag from his jacket and when he

              cocks it, Lenny's only response is a blubbering that sounds

              something like "Wait, wait!"

              Go levels the barrel at his head, his finger hovering over

              the trigger.

                                  LENNY

                        Please...don't...I...I can pay...

              Go sneers and pushes the hammer closed on the gun, climbing

              off of Lenny.

                                  GO

                        She'd never forgive me.

              He walks over the briefcase and starts the timer, dragging

              Lenny next to it.

                                  GO

                        Instead, I'll let you watch the

                        last few seconds of your big score

                        tick by.

              The crumpled heap of a man that was Lenny strains to try and

              reach the timer: 5...4...3...2...1...

                                                             CUT TO:

              ECU - THE DEVICE

              On 0:00 the liquid transmutes into a big hunk of crystal,

              resembling the Tsingtao diamond, shattering the glass.

                                                             CUT TO:

              A FLASH of blinding white light...and then: Well, nothing

              special.

              Every bit of green vegetation on the grounds has turned

              brown, and the castle itself looks shabbier, like it could

              use a new coat of paint or a pressure wash.  Slightly

              desaturated. Nothing else seems to have changed.

              April leads the horse over and gives Lenny a disdainful

              glance before handing Go the reins.

                                  APRIL

                        We should get going.

              They ride out through the back, and soon after Fusao and his

              men are on the grounds, surround the battered Lenny.

                                  FUSAO

                        So, ikokujin, what should we do

                        with you who would bring pestilence

                        to our land?

                                                            FADE TO:

              EXT. UNDERWORLD CAVERNS - MOMENTS LATER

              April and Go are back in the Audi, cruising through the

              caverns. LU-SID is jury rigged into the cigarette lighter

              and flashes as it gives navigation updates.

                                  LU-SID

                        Route to nearest doorway leading to

                        1996, calculated.  Approximately 15

                        miles.

                                  GO

                        You don't have walk me all the way

                        there, y'know.  I'm a big boy.

                                  APRIL

                        A lady always sees her gentlemen

                        friends home safely.  'Sides, maybe

                        I'll get to meet the girl worth

                        rewriting history for.

              She gives him an easy smile and he tries to return it.  He

              can't manage past a weary grin.

                                  GO

                        Maybe. Thanks for everything,

                        April.

              She tries to hang onto the smile but it fades with her

              request.

                                                                    APRIL

                        You wanna thank me, maybe re-think

                        your answer to my question earlier?

              She squeezes his shoulder.

                                  GO

                        I'll let you know once we get

                        through this.

                                  APRIL

                        Get through what?

              And she looks up to get the answer.

                                                             CUT TO:

              EXT. TEMPORAL DOORWAY TO 1996 - CONTINUOUS

              Normally, the long straightaway that leads to the 1996 gate

              is completely clear of any traffic.  Just a gate in

              Stonehenge-like rock formation at the end of a lonely road.

              Today is not a normal day.  Barricades with heavily armed

              tactical personnel.  Snipers in the caverns above.  There's

              even a gunship sweeping the area, and the gate's being

              blocked by two bulldozers on either side.  Almost every

              vehicle is emblazoned with the seal from Kepler's ledger.

              Speakers from the gunship blare out a canned warning, asking

              any intruders to please stop and surrender.  Go's only

              response is to rev the engine.

                                  GO

                        Still sure you wanna be a proper

                        lady?

              Before April can vocalize the apprehension that's suddenly

              washed over her face, Go's phone rings.

                                  GO

                        Yeah?

                                  LAUREN (O.S.)

                        Go? Honey, where are you?

              The wind leaves him.  He wants to say so many things, but the

              shock leaves him stammering.

                                  LAUREN (O.S.)

                        Can you hear me, babe?  I'm getting

                        all kinds of crazy interference.

                                                                     GO

                        I...I'm here.  Is everything okay?

                                  LAUREN (O.S.)

                        Yeah, everything's fine, just

                        wondering when you're getting home.

                        I just picked up Michael, he wants

                        to say hi.

                                                             CUT TO:

              INT. HIDEKI RESIDENCE - DAY

              Lauren passes the phone to a cherubic three year old that is

              the spitting image of the pair.  He steadies the phone with

              both hands.

                                  MICHAEL

                        Daddy?

                                                             CUT TO:

              EXT. TEMPORAL DOORWAY TO 1996 - CONTINUOUS

              Go's on the verge of tears.

                                  GO

                        Yes son?

                                  MICHAEL (O.S.)

                        When are you coming home?

                                  GO

                        I...I'll be there soon, okay buddy?

                                  MICHAEL (O.S.)

                        Okay. Love you, daddy.

                                  GO

                        I love you too, son.

              April watches him, every measure of doubt and apprehension

              melting away.

                                  LAUREN (O.S.)

                        Hey again, so you'll be home soon?

                                  GO

                        Mm-hm. I love you so much, Lauren.

                                  LAUREN (O.S.)

                        I love you too, Go.  Everything

                        okay?

                                  GO

                        Yeah...everything's wonderful.

                                  LAUREN (O.S.)

                        M'kay, well hurry home then

                        alright?

                                  GO

                        I will.

              He hangs up and looks to April for some sort of support.  She

              just squeezes his hand and puts it on the gear shift.

                                  APRIL

                        Don't keep the girl waiting.

              A deep breath, Go's eyes close and Audi's in full gear.  The

              Ascended forces don't hesitate, sending every bit of

              ordinance their way.  

              Go pulls a series of turns and drifts through the first set

              of barricades to wind through in a backwards S pattern.  

              As they're pulling away from the last squad of grunts,

              they're so close that April grabs an M4A1 from one, smashing

              him in the jaw before they're away.

              Brass casings and bullets litter the ground as the gunship

              and snipers try to get a bead.  April leans out the window,

              sending a few bursts at the gunship.

                                  GO

                        Hang on!

              The Audi pops up onto two wheels to ride the line between the

              next set of barricades.  April does a drive-by on the squad

              at their right, tucking back in once the Audi's back on four

              wheels and speeding towards the bulldozers.

              April checks the rear-view for the gunship and it's still

              strafing like crazy.  

                                  APRIL

                        Done around.  Done through.  Over?

                                  GO

                        Gonna try.

              The machine guns from the massive helicopter trail in their

              wake, getting closer and closer to the car.

              Go shifts gears, the Audi moves even faster but the guns keep

              creeping closer.

              He cuts the steering wheel left and as the car begins to

              slide he...

                                                             CUT TO:

              ECU - E-BRAKE LEVER

              Wrenches the brake back.

                                                             CUT TO:

              The Audi is airborne and flipping, right side over left.

              April braces herself and once the passenger side is facing

              the gunship: THWOOMP!

              The grenade sails from the M4A1 through the cabin window of

              the gunship and: BOOM!

              The Audi lands on the other side of the bulldozers, spinning

              out to a stop in front of the gate.  The gutted gunship

              falters and rotates before crashing into the bulldozers in a

              fiery conflagration.

              April hops out of the passenger window and checks her ammo.

                                  GO

                        What're you doing?

                                  APRIL

                        Cleaning up the rest, now get outta

                        here.

                                  GO

                        But-

                                  APRIL

                        Don't hear you pulling off.

              She pops the clip back in and racks it, keeping her eyes

              ahead.

                                  GO

                        You're going a little farther than

                        returning a favor.

                                  APRIL

                        Yeah, well.  If you can't get over

                        it, I charge a pretty high premium

                        to babysit.

              She doesn't turn around.  Otherwise he'd see the full, bright

              smile on her face.

                                  GO

                        I'll keep it in mind.

              And he rolls through the gate.

                                                             CUT TO:

              EXT. LOS ANGELES - MORNING

              The battle scarred Audi drives through the streets of early

              morning L.A., from downtown on into Hollywood.

                                  CORKER

                            (V.O.)

                        Sounds like a remarkable woman.

                                  GO

                            (V.O.)

                        Yeah.

                                  CORKER

                            (V.O.)

                        So from there?

                                  GO

                            (V.O.)

                        I just went to where LU-SID told me

                        my house was.

              From Hollywood in to Beverly Hills.

                                                             CUT TO:

              EXT. HIDEKI RESIDENCE - MORNING

              Once Go pulls up the long driveway of the opulent three story

              mansion, there's no time to marvel at his newfound fortune.

              He rushes inside, calling out for his wife and child.

                                                             CUT TO:

              INT. HIDEKI RESIDENCE - MORNING

              He goes from room to room, each one telling him something

              about his new life.  Lauren finally got him to watch The Thin

              Man. Michael likes Kix for breakfast.  The twin showerheads

              mean he got fed up enough to do something about her hogging

              all the hot water.  

              The path of discovery leads all the way to Lauren and Go's

              bedroom. All sleek and modern...except for the bed.  An

              antique, brass behemoth that certainly clashes with all the

              clean lines, but it's what she always wanted.

              He sits down, smoothing his hand across the bedspread before

              noticing a scrapbook on the nightstand.  The first page he

              opens it to is a collection of photos.  First, pictures of

              the old crew that he can remember taking, but then new ones.

              Pictures of film sets, with him in stunt gear.  Lauren on

              those same sets, tinkering with electronics.  Movie premiers

              with him in attendance, schmoozing with stars.  A few with

              him on red carpets, Lauren on his arm.

              He starts to spread things out onto the bed: Pictures of

              their wedding on The Beach, Michael's baby footprints, photos

              of them all on vacation.

              Then once Go's at the end of the book he finds a photo of his

              and Lauren's hands intertwined.  He turns it over and finds a

              bunch of newspaper clippings taped to the backside.  Slowly,

              he lays them out:

              WOMAN AND YOUNG SON CRITICALLY INJURED IN CAR ACCIDENT

              LAUREN HIDEKI, SFX GURU AND YOUNG SON DEAD

              DEATHS OF MOTHER AND CHILD RULED VEHICULAR HOMICIDE

              LEONARD CHALMBERS CHARGED IN DRIVING DEATHS

              There's a moment of quiet where Go looks at the clippings and

              can't process what's in front of him.  Then, as quiet as a

              whisper.

                                  GO

                        No.

              He sinks to his knees, burying his face in all the rootless

              memories, repeating the word, louder each time.  Until it

              becomes an incoherent wail.

                                                            FADE TO:

              EXT. THE BEACH(UNDERWORLD) - DAY

              Go's made his way to the shore, looking out at the waves as

              though he's trying to spot something.

                                  GO

                        I keep trying to remember

                        myself...those places in the

                        photos...and it's all blank.  I can

                        imagine it, but it's not real.  

                                  CORKER

                        I'm really sorry, Go.

              The Detective puts a hand on Go's shoulder.

                                                                    GO

                        I couldn't stay in the house...or

                        even out in the world, so I came

                        back here.

                                  CORKER

                        Still planning on going to see her?

                                  GO

                        Honestly? The only reason you

                        found me here is because of her.  

                                  CORKER

                        She wouldn't forgive you for it,

                        would she?

              With tears in his eyes, Go nods and Corker puts an arm around

              him.

                                  CORKER

                        You've been through a lot.  Believe

                        me, I can understand.  It's why I

                        wanted to find you.  I've got an

                        offer for you, and you don't have

                        to answer me right away, obviously-

                                  GO

                        I don't think I'm cut out for the

                        force, Corker.

                                  CORKER

                        You've been down here long enough,

                        Go, you haveta know I'm not a

                        regular cop.  I've known about this

                        whole Secret War for quite a while,

                        and you're not the first person

                        I've run across that gotten

                        stranded without a real home.  I

                        run a little operation that employs

                        folks like you.

                                  GO

                        What...what for?

                                  CORKER

                        Mainly to keep things like this

                        from happenin'.  Just think about

                        it, and gimmie a call when you make

                        up your mind.

                                                             CUT TO:

              CU - THE CARD

              Corker hands him the card, but rather than his LAPD

              information, it's just his name and an Ascended seal embossed

              behind it.

              Go looks up at him, aghast.

                                  GO

                        You're...

                                  CORKER

                        I know what you're thinking, and no

                        I didn't have anything to do with

                        what happened to your friends.  I'd

                        been watching your crew since the

                        beginning, and when those Dragons

                        got a hold of you, I wanted to step

                        in. The Ascended's like any other

                        bureaucracy, Go, for every decision

                        that gets made there's at least 10

                        other ideas behind it that were

                        probably better.

                                  GO

                        But they said...the Ascended

                        were...

                                  CORKER

                        Big brother, the new world order,

                        heard 'em all.  The truth about the

                        Ascended is that we're trying to

                        keep the world running as it is.

                        You've seen the future that we're

                        trying to prevent for yourself.

              Go's face contorts in confusion for a moment before he turns

              his gaze back to the ocean.  Corker sighs, making his way

              back toward the caverns.

              MONTAGE - GO'S THOUGHTS

              While Corker talks, we see a rapid montage of Go's memories

              of Lauren.

                                  CORKER

                        I'm not gonna wear you down about

                        this. You take your time and think

                        on it, 'cause the others aren't

                        going to move on you with me still

                        in your corner.

              It ends with those clippings from the scrapbook.  Corker

              turns back to Go one last time.

                                  CORKER

                        Real sorry about wh-

              He's cut short by a .50 caliber to the head, lifting his body

              off the ground.  Go lowers the smoking gun, tears rolling

              down his face.    

              Time lapses between his movements, and after watching the

              waves one last time, he drives away.

                                                        DISSOLVE TO:

              EXT. THE JUNKYARD - MORNING

              The Professor and Kar Fai are talking with Go again, but this

              time the conversation is about what he'll do for them.

                                  KAR FAI

                        Eventually, you will meet with Raye

                        Kuramoto and Eddie Lee.  They are

                        two allies we encountered in Hong

                        Kong.

                                  THE PROFESSOR

                        But it's not necessary to dive

                        right back in to work, of course.

                        You've had quite the ordeal, and

                        time to heal both physically and-

              There's a weary, wry grin on his face as he gently

              interjects.

                                  GO

                        All respect due Prof, I'd like to

                        get to work on whatever you have

                        for me, as soon as possible.

              The Professor's brow furrows, but she corrects herself,

              trying to seem relatively neutral.

                                  THE PROFESSOR

                        We just...well, for the quality of

                        your ability to work, we would hope

                        for your heart and head to both be

                        in the right place.

                                                             CUT TO:

              EXT. THE BEACH - MORNING

              Go and Lauren are wrapped in each other's arms, watching the

              tide roll back and forth.

                                  GO

                        Trust me, Professor.  They are.

#sonno joi #akira kurosawa #vanishing point #feng shui rpg #13 assassins #time travel #go's story

[daechai]

Cras and Dahlia- FFXV Ocs

Here is some info of my OCs I’ve been working on haha

Cras: Hunter, formal imperial noble -Healer,can hack slightly -Sexuality: Gay (is in love with Charen-other oc) -Weapons: ‘Reaper’s Grip’ flaming scythe, obtained in battle with his greatest feared daemon. ‘Noceur’ dual swords, definition: one who does not sleep nor rest ‘Lethe’ Long ice sword, meaning: something to get you into oblivion/blissfull forgetfullness ‘Resfeber’ Lance given by Charen, definition: the restless race of a traveler’s heart when a journey begins, anxiety. -Loves: Charen, piercings, making salad, Dahlia (as a best friend), Later on: Prompto, Ignis, Noctis, and Gladiolus -Hobbies: Bothering people, writing, naming weapons (thus the meaning behind each one) -Traits: bit narcissistic, chicken when it comes to fighting alone, social, lazy at times, very confident but doesnt think before he acts, serious in times of healing Appearance: Pink short hair, slightly pale skin with light (almost grey) brown eyes, a mole instead of the traditional cras freckles, piercings (3 in both ears and one on lip) Tattoos: 1 of grima in his back bc he is a nerd/ some bands around his arms/ two sets of wings in his left hand (the one he writes with) that reminds him of Charen/ one he got in his left writst with Dahlia because of one particular mission, very tall, has good build. Usually wears a normal black shirt and some dark blue jeans with some belts and straps on the sides. He also wears light shoes like converse or boots when the weather/traveling needs it. Usually has a small sports backpack in which he keeps his medical supplies as well as his computer, food, and other essentials. He also has some chains and leader straps around his arms because apparently they look cool?? He has some scars along his back and behind his legs and a small one at the side of his neck (courtesy of Dahlia when they first met). Has Charen’s hunter dog tag instead of his because his family wouldnt bother finding him and Charen dissapeared.

Dahlia: Hunter, formal resident of Lucis -Tactitian, is a pretty good shot -Sexuality: Bisexual -Weapons: 'Seldom’ sniper, she believes that wishing for something gives you the opposite so in this case this will give her more shots than random hits. 'Nepenthe'dual guns, def: something that can make you forget grief or suffering 'Kairos’ ice sphear, def: the perfect, delicate, crucial moment (suggested by Cras, Dahlia loved it) 'Convivencia’ long sword (given by her family and named by Cras- they both share the sword at times in battle) Loves: Prompto (later on ooo), Cras (as a best friend), piercings, traveling, her weapons, and (later on) Ignis, Noctis, and Gladiolus Hobbies: writing (journal keeping), traveling, archery/shooting (helps her with aim) Traits: Strong, sometimes stern, usually angry with Cras,has a very lovely smile and laugh (even when she barely does it),a no-bs kind of person, enjoys jokes and can be sarcastic Appearance: Slightly dark/tan skin, brown dark hair and grey eyes, piercings (4 in both ears), Tattoos: one on her right wrist she got with Cras because of a particular mission, slightly shorter than average and fairly built, usually wears a dark grey tank top with black cargo pants (with lots of pockets) and belts on her waist and sides to keep her dual guns nearby, she also usually wears a long cammo green jacket with loads of pockets as well as a hoodie. When it’s cold she wears a snow blue jacket with a fuzzy hoodie (belonging to her father), she also wears black cammo boots usually or black boots with heels at times when travelling. Sometimes she styles her hair with braids and designs if in a good mood but usually pulls it up into a ponytail on missions (only lets her hair down when chilling). She has a few scars on her back, some in her arms (shoulders) one on her eyebrow and a very small one on her lip. She keeps her dog tag on her neck to at least have her family know where she was all along when died (she asked Cras to be the one to give her tag to her family and no one else).

Trivia: -Cras and Dahlia have a very close sibling like relationship, at first ordered at a mission together by Dave because they wouldnt stop fighting with each other and later becoming best friends. -Cras absolutely is in love with Charen and wont stop talking about him, nobody knows who he is or whether or not he exists except for Dahlia who has met him like twice. -Cras is a complete coward when fighting at night and usually complains to Dahlia since she stays far away to accurately snipe. -Dahlia at times in response shoots a few 'warning’ shots towards him when he keeps complaining about it. -The only time Cras every gets serious is when attending someone with medical needs of important issues about Charen. -Dahlia is very smart and good at tactics (including buying and handling stuff) while Cras is very smart in academics as well as computers. -Dahlia later develops a crush on prompto, usually sketching out the pictures he takes but her self esteem (especially about her family problems, partner from before, and such) keeps her away from him. -Cras loves to tease and bother Dahlia and she probably wants to kill him by now. -Dahlia doesnt mind seeing the guts of humans and creatures alike while Cras internally screams inside (usually gets over it when being a healer). -Cras owns a motorcycle and Dahlia usually hops in as well behind him. -Theyre both known as the notorious pair of hunters who wont stop bickering at each other during missions

Some backstory: When she was young,Dahlia actually fell into a coma for unexplainable reasons for a long period of time. When she came back to consciousness, her family was utterly worried and wouldnt let her be for days. Because of the medical bills, her family started struggling financially and she felt extremely guilty about it. She slowly kept falling deep and deeper into self hate and feeling like a burden thus escaping to be a hunter, at least she wouldn’t cause any trouble for her family and at times could send anonymous tips of money towards them. Sometimes she takes out a picture with her brothers just to stare at it, she keeps the one with her parents hidden as it hurts her too much. Later on her travels she fell in love with a fellow hunter and was even thinking about marriage when he disappeared, she kept his dog tag with her thinking he was dead until she reached Lestallum and found him trying to live another life, acting like he didn't know her and having another love, this made her hopelessly bitter and at times sad later on in her life.

Cras was actually a son of the imperial noble families, he hated his family and having escaped multiple times he stumbled across a bar where he met Charen. He quickly fell in love with him and it became mutual. He becomes a bad boy type, following Charen around getting piercings, having tattoos and stuff, he was about to do drugs when Charen stopped him. He worried he was a bad influence so he decided to start pushing him away. One day Charen decides to join this extremely dangerous band of hunters (which are infamous for doing anti empire acts of revelry). Cras offers to join but Charen seriously doesn’t want him to be in danger. One of the rules of the organization is that if he joins he must be sworn to secrecy and hiding, so he 'breaks up’ with Cras and runs away, only leaving him his number for his (now ex) boyfriend to contact him in extreme life and dead situations. Cras calls him/texts him all the time, sometimes Charen does respond most time he doesn’t. When he does, Cras attempts to hack and trace whatever he can to find him, this usually successfully happens every few months or so. Everytime Cras meets him they fight (Charen always trying to keep him away and Cras always trying to convince him to come with him). Their relationship is extremely complicated, Cras wants to start a family and spend his life with Charen while he thinks he is a threat to Cras’ existence.

A small scenario (after Cras and Dahlia meet the four guys and decide to join their party as the Prince’s hired retainers):

(Its dark at night and the group has decided to camp out, Cras gets a text from Charen and immediately starts to use his computer while typing furiously, after a few minutes he stands up and starts walking away into the shadows).

“Hey where is Cras going?” “He found Charen, just give him a few hours” Dahlia places her hands over her hips with a grim expression and yells towards Cras’ direction “I’ll be waiting here with the medical pack by the time you come back!” Noctis and the others at first looked extremely worried, their expressions slowly turning into confusion by Dahlia’s calm demeanor. After a few hours of them waiting while finishing a game of King’s knight and starting to help Ignis prepare dinner, Cras finally shows up. Stumbling from the shadows the four can’t help but wince as he walks towards the light. Showered with cuts all over his arms and legs, he seemed to be gripping his arm that was either strained or broken by the way it looked. Once he turned around to sit in front of Dahlia, they noticed that a giant rip was apparent on his back, showing a tattoo with an intricate wing design only to be covered by a deep gash, blood pouring out of it. Dahlia’s eyes only slightly widened as she went to get the medical bag and started patching him up. “Hey Cras, this is worse than usual…. what did you tell him this time?…” she almost whispers with a grim expression as she starts covering his wounds. Cras gave a sad wry grin as he was being patched up, he gave a half hearted chuckle as he responded “I asked him this time to marry me.”

#final fantasy xv #final fantasy #ocs #noctis lucis caelum #prompto argentum #ignis scentia #gladiolus amicitia