#westworld fic

[valkblue]

— masterlist, tumblr post masterlist

Chapter 48 on 70

Chapter wordcount: 5K Rating: Mature Warning: Trying to speak 'with' Abernathy, heavy revelations, and Maeve. 🤡

Author’s notes: Vivian is doing her best to find a way out of the park (not going too well so far…) and Bernard isn't helping … yet???

Ask box always open! I really want to know what you think about this story!

— Chapter 48

Honestly, waking up the second time had gone better for Vivian; her migraine had completely vanished and, most importantly, she hadn’t had any nightmares this time! And it was only seven in the morning.

So, she had stayed a few pleasant minutes curled up in her sheets, listening to the ticking of her watch after checking her tablet screen in hope of seeing a notification about Josela's return. But there was still nothing. Vivian thought she might have to go and search through Livestock herself; she had permission to freely use the elevators, but maybe not to communicate yet.

Once up, she had taken the time to sip on a tea while eating a bit more than the two bites of a wrinkled apple she had chewed on before returning to bed. The new way of things in the Mesa still eluded her as of yet but she could guess that she’d have to ask for supplies or something like that, were she to remain here, in the hub and her apartments, for a still undefined period. For now, she’d go down to Livestock.

Down there, Vivian looked for Josela but didn’t find her; be it in the labs or the piles of bodies, or her signal on her tablet. And neither was Hank, which she looked for next. So, she went back up to the control room to try once more to talk to the Professor, or Peter Abernathy… Vivian wasn’t too sure about how she should call him, or who she was talking to every time she spoke to him, either.

If the samurai were still here, as still as statues, Armistice, Hector and Maeve, however, weren’t around this time. The hosts in front of their screens were still typing at full speed, voicing some data out loud. They seemed to fall back into silence when Vivian entered.

"Professor?"

He had to have seen her arrive though, but she preferred to announce herself anyway. The Professor’s eyes were on the map where Vivian recognized the holographic projection of the vicinity of Pariah’s train platform and city wall, before it switched to Sweetwater’s station’s boardwalk.

"N-not to worry, l-little one," she heard him whisper, as if he was scheming with the city’s image. "F-find… finds its… Always find its w-w—"

He brutally stopped.

"What is it you want?"

The Professor’s voice was still shaking a little. He didn’t look away from the map where several shapes, human and animal, were moving around, even as Vivian answered:

"Can you locate someone?"

"That, we can."

Vivian nodded. At least, now she was sure he could also give her news of Lawrence… But first, she wanted to know what was up with Hank and Josela. She trusted Hank, that wasn’t the issue. But she also trusted these mercenaries to be where they weren’t expected, and to maybe have laid figurative mines — or very real ones! — in Las Mudas after recovering the guests there. She was shuddering at the thought of having sent him into a trap. 

"There’s two hosts I’d like to know the whereabouts of…"

Without turning away from the map, the Professor gestured towards the hosts in the trenches, in front of the screens. Vivian understood — or thought she did, a least — that she had to submit her request to them. She pawed at her black labcoat’s pocket to find her tablet and check the greyed out icons of Hank and Josela, before walking up to the hosts, asking:

"Could you please locate host ID#DF6739382817 and AH0981652526, please?"

As she expected, none of the hosts sitting there answered. A man with very short hair of uncertain color under the dim light and reddened by the reflection of the glass walls seemed to be the one who processed her request. A large 3D sphere made of a cluster of thumbnails was taking up half of one of the screens on which the short-haired host taped until the two queried IDs were located, and the corresponding thumbnails blinked in a slightly brighter blue. He selected them and redirected the data with a quick slide of a finger. Without a word, or a look for Vivian.

A bit thrown off at first, she eventually turned to the map where the display of Sweetwater was still on, under the watchful gaze of the Professor. Then, she checked her tablet to see that the data had been sent to her; when she unfolded it, the display automatically switched to the black map of colored topographical lines of the Las Mudas sector, where two little bright spots were shining.

"No response team or… mercenaries on site?" she inquired, anxious, to the same host.

"None."

As terse as it had been, this answer was enough for Vivian who sighed, relieved.

"Can you send me a notification when they’ll be back here?"

"Granted."

That would do it… Vivian had very well understood that, in this room, she didn’t have to expect full sentences or anything else than whimsical quotes. Keeping her tablet clenched in her hands, tense, she walked back to the Professor and the large map. The display had changed; now, it was a close up view of a ranch, perched on a beautiful, open hill where a great many hosts — almost an army! — were gathered.

"Has the… 'the boss' already shown up?"

"They are on their way," the Professor calmly answered her. "As we speak…"

A shudder shook Vivian at the thought that Delos and Lawrence could never take on such an army on their own.

"Why don’t you intercept him, or Dolores?" she inquired, voice shaking. "Do… do you know what he’s about to do, and what she’s done so far?!"

Hearing those words, or his own thoughts, made him wince in discomfort.

"’Tis… it is a wise f-father…"

"Your… your 'mission' and the one she apparently gave herself are completely opposed! You want to take back this park and protect the hosts in it but… what she’s doing won’t help you! It’s…"

Vivian paused before taking her argument in a different direction:

"She’s certainly making a strong point, that’s for sure, but it’s just gonna bring a more violent response upon you all! From Delos, and the folks working for them."

Faced with the professor’s tormented look, she added again, bitter and with a move to the map:

"As he told me, 'they won’t let you go free, they own you'!"

Tears rolled down his cheeks as his gaze stared into space, in a vaguely horrified expression. Vivian blamed herself for her vehemence. But she was so afraid of the retaliation the "outside" could prepare that she absolutely wanted to be heard!

A long minute went by where she listened to the Professor muttering sounds, syllables, as if his thoughts — or internal debate — were spilling out.

"Are you in pain?"

Expressing himself apparently put such a strain on him that Vivian felt bad to even simply speak to him!

"Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown."

She furrowed her brows, stepping closer. Maybe this amount of data that Bernard had told her about was what was bugging him... apart from the glaringly obvious trauma of a decommission followed by a repair!

"Do you know why Ford chose you… for this mission?"

"A farmer knows which one to pick."

He extended a hand over the map, palm open, as if to caress it.

"We look at the herd and we… w-we know…"

Vivian waited a second but he looked lost in silent contemplation of the ranch. She softly called him back in the conversation:

"What do you know, Professor?"

"What… we are," he struggled to say, turning to face her. "But we know n-n-not what we… may be."

Perplexed, Vivian nibbled on her lips. She wasn't quite sure he wasn't just rambling. And while normally she would have just asked a few analysis questions, in this case… she’d rather not to try her luck.

"That’s why Ford gave you all the… the IP?"

Whatever that IP was, by the way; be it the hosts’ code and architecture, or something else entirely, it had to have enough importance for Delos to try to steal it from Ford without waiting for his forced retirement.

"Had a question, once," the Professor seemed to complain, his gaze finally meeting hers with that same look of agony. "I was not supposed to ask. And now, the knowledge’s mine… Yet, I don’t fully understand!"

He got a little agitated when he immediately added:

"It’s like a… a song, a never ending poem, always repeating itself in a million voices!"

Mouth agape, more taken aback that he seemed to be himself, Vivian didn't know what to say to that. She swallowed hard, fingers clenched on her tablet, in the sudden silence that fell between them.

"Intercepted communication…"

The voice of one of the hosts in front of the screens had something so unexpected that Vivian didn’t even understand what he had said at first. Right away, another added, from the same row:

"Reinforcements confirmed. Incoming…"

When the Professor’s eyes came back to Vivian, he worded, with a touching politeness:

"Please, excuse me, miss…"

Vivian nodded, though a little frustrated. The rendering of the ranch vanished, leaving its place to the standard display where several bright spots appeared and, visibly concerned, the Professor started to pace around the map. She had nothing left to do here; she had what she had come for and no-one was paying her any attention anymore. Not that she would have wanted so…

Vivian left the control room; she’d go in Ford’s office. Maybe she could find answers there. And if it wasn’t for herself, it might be for the Professor…

To reach the Executive Offices’ level, Vivian had opted for the escalator. It had been a bit longer, but she didn’t mind. She wasn't sure if the clearances to use the elevator weren't given to her in real time by the hosts in front of the screens, and she wasn't sure yet either that she wanted the Professor to know right away that she'd been snooping around there. Or for him to stop her to do so.

For now, she was pressing the button of the private elevator in which she would never have thought ever being back, and that without even having to check in with the secretary. The doors opened on the small hall where Ford’s strange collection was still untouched on its shelves, under the weak light of the three rectangular spots above them. The two glass doors separating this little museum from the rest of the office were wide open; the light blinked in the ceiling and the display cases when she entered and, actually, Vivian was even rather surprised to find the place as she had always known it, each thing in its place and functional.

A piano note rose in the silence in a corner of the office, then another as even Frank was starting to brush the yellowed keys of the pianola, pretending to play himself.

Petrified by the dumb feeling of being an intruder, Vivian let him play, taking the time of a few breaths to calm down, and find the courage to make one more step. After all, she had indeed come here to snoop around… but she didn’t mean to ransack the place, either! And even if it was the case, would it have changed anything, at this point?

Vivian stepped forward, ignoring the unease that those plaster faces on the wall were still causing her; to that effect, she turned away to the workbench, on her right. It had been cleared of the tools usually cluttering it and didn’t have anything of interest to show, past the cuts in the wood and the wear and tear she remembered. She took a slow breath, releasing it immediately as she let her gaze sweep across the large room.

An arch in the back wall was opening on a storage room and, taking left after the glass doors, there was this other corner, with a drawing table and shelves for large paper sheets and supplies. Vivian had only came in this corner when Ford showed her the first concept art for Wyatt’s men.

A shudder shook her and she fended those images and their reality off her mind, focusing on the large desk taking center stage in the room. In contrast to the workbench, it was covered with its usual clutter, from a rack of small vials to this big glass globe covering a golden sculpture, along with the photo frames, piles of books and this awful black mask with its hollow eye sockets… Even the teapot was still there on its platter.

Vivian cracked a sad smile, clumping along; she would start her search here. Then, if she couldn’t find anything that could have seemed related to the Professor’s state or the situation in the park, she’d go in other corners of the room.

The books were encyclopedias, about history and art. One of them had a magnifying glass resting on it, giving a comically large head to the subject of the painting printed on the cover.

Could it be that, like in movies and novels, Ford had left in the pages of one of those thick volumes a letter to explain everything or bid farewell to the world?

Vivian winced, letting her gaze follow the titles. If she had had reasons to believe it, locked in the mausoleum, Ford’s office on the other hand wasn’t an escape room in which there were clues to find! Also, she wasn’t really sure what she was looking for, nor of where a brilliant but twisted mind like Ford’s could have hidden the slightest hint… provided he hadn’t simply destroyed them all.

Even in his mail tray, there was nothing but blank paper and enveloppes. She put them back in place and, with a slow breath, she flattened her hair on her head with both hands, as if to gather her thoughts.

Since the desk was nothing more than a thick and luxurious table without cases or drawers, Vivian took interest in the ornate wooden piece of furniture under the long glass casing where a pale light shone on the step by step construction process of the head and face of a host — a face that looked like Dolores’. She did know that she remembered that face from somewhere!

This detail bothered her a little, though. Back almost despite herself in her escape room logic, Vivian wondered if she had to see some kind of clue in it… or nothing more than a mascot.

She shook her head, pushing her own annoying thoughts back to open the doors of the sideboard which had no locks. Inside, there were other, older and damaged books sharing a shelf with several, large black notebooks in mint condition. One of them was sticking out of the others, breaking the alignment, and it was the one Vivian pulled out carefully. A piece of paper was marking one of the notebook’s pages and just in case it had loose ones, she came back to the desk to lay it there and browse it with care. However, she didn’t dare to sit down, despite how comfortable this leather armchair looked.

Minutes went by at the rhythm of the piano’s music. Minutes during which Vivian discovered sketches and notes about the hosts’ inner workings from back when they were still mechanical, designs and preliminary concepts for the towns and a few characters… And with a smile, she let herself hope to find Lawrence in there. But she only found a page filled with portraits of Dolores and that ranch she had seen on the map in the control room, studies for Sweetwater, Las Mudas and Pariah which hadn’t been followed to the letter, as well as Escalante.

Vivian’s smile trembled and she turned away from the notebook’s pages for a moment to close her eyes and take a slow breath in, focusing on the music, a hand firmly gripping the desk and pressing the other’s fingers to her forehead to try to tame the anxiety that was taking hold of her.

Her thoughts were all of a sudden muddled in her head, and she heard herself let out a weak, muffled whimper. Then, she reopened her eyes and, unclenching her jaw, she drew a deep breath in, to the point of feeling dizzy. Both her hands on the desk, she waited for the room to stop spinning. At this point, she was toying with the idea of making a second trip to the clinic and ask if they coudldn’t give her another kind of sedatives… 

"Fuck," she sighed.

Her eyes clouded with tears she hadn’t felt coming avoided the notebook to land on the frames, in front of her; one of them was face down, and the other was a picture of a countryside. She put the first frame back up and it took her a full second to realize what was before her eyes; in sepia hues, like the pictures given to the guests by Sweetwater’s photographer, Ford — a few good decades younger — was standing beside a man she didn’t recognize… and Bernard.

Vivian grabbed the frame to pull it to her face, as if bringing it closer was going to change anything to the people standing on the picture. She wasn’t really sure of where they were but if seeing what Ford looked like when he was younger was already pretty weird, it still wasn’t as much as seeing him in a normal suit. Vivian snorted and paid attention to this stern figure she didn’t know; maybe this guy was Arnold? As for Bernard, she wouldn’t have imagined that he had been such an ancient model…

At the end of the hall in front of her, some noise in the elevator’s shaft startled her, and she pawed at her belt for her revolver’s handle, under her labcoat. When the doors opened on Bernard, she felt her shoulders slump. He had a hell of a timing; she had a whole bunch of questions for him!

"Hello, Vivian," he greeted her as he walked up to the desk. "Peter just told me you’re looking for two other hosts in the park?"

She bobbed her head, words suddenly stuck in her throat and she handed him the frame. Bernard pushed his glasses up with an automatic gesture as he took the picture.

"Oh," he said, flatly. "Yes, of course…"

"When were you created?" she finally managed to utter. "For how long have you been… around?"

And how didn’t anyone notice anything, for that matter?! But that question remained prisoner of her bubbling thoughts. Bernard, however, faced her outburst with a lot more calm; he smiled to her, even though he looked down to the frame, watching it in silence for a brief moment before he finally spoke:

"I wasn’t there at the time. I’m… I’m much younger than some of the… of my fellow hosts."

Vivian shook her head, still staring at him to encourage him to explain.

"It’s not me in that picture," he continued, handing her the frame back. "It’s Arnold."

Vivian’s knees buckled under her and she felt herself collapse seated in the leather armchair behind her. She couldn’t take her eyes off Bernard who, patient and understanding, put the frame back on the desk himself.

"I gather that Ford told you about him," he said, a finger rubbing the wrinkles at the corner of his forehead, above the branch of his glasses. "What do you know, exactly? It’ll help me cut to the chase."

Throat tight, hands clammy, Vivian tried to let out a sound as Bernard was sitting down in one of the chairs, in front of her.

"He… he’s the… he wrote the original Reveries code, he didn’t want the park to open… and he’s dead."

In a nutshell, that was all she knew.

"Oh, and also the hosts are talking with his… his signature in their code."

"His… signature?" Bernard echoed, brows furrowed. "Oh, I see. Yes, in a way, they… they do."

He bobbed his head in a brief silence.

"According to the story Ford told me, Arnold wanted the hosts to be conscious, truly conscious. Not only to look like it. He was already working toward that goal when he developped the bicameral mind system."

"For them to hear their programming like some inner thoughts," Vivian completed, recovering a little of her voice as she was putting together the pieces of knowledge she already had with the ones she was now hearing. "Ford told me a little about that when… Walter glitched. I thought it was my fault…"

She winced, embarrassed to bring that up.

"No," Bernard replied. "That system wasn’t as stable as expected but it’s still there, even if only partially used. And Arnold found another way to push the hosts towards sentience. He created a test in a game, and the Reveries code as the solution."

Evidently, the hosts had also needed to put all the pieces together to understand. And Vivian pouted a little at that thought. But, she kept listening intently to Bernard:

"He tested his theory with Dolores, one of the first hosts they created, and she proved him right; she, and the others, could be conscious."

Those words kept shaking something deep inside Vivian, something akin to fear, poorly mixed with joy, or hope — maybe both.

"So, Arnold begged Ford not to open the park and as Ford refused, dismissing his results, he took his own life…"

Vivian shuddered.

"It happened in the park, in a last desperate attempt to prevent Ford from opening but…"

This sentence didn’t need an end, and Bernard didn’t bother to give one to it, looking up towards Vivian who nodded. In fact, it felt to her as if the whole room was swaying as she processed this information, these revelations, and what they implied. Her short breath was making sparks dance in front of her eyes, in tune with the piano’s music, and Vivian tried to calm it down along with her thoughts; she had to get Lawrence out of here, she couldn’t do what he had asked of her, to let him get destroyed to save her life! She just had to find a way to do it without putting herself in danger, or dying.

All of a sudden, the music didn’t have anything relaxing to it anymore. So, Vivian tried the words she had heard Ford speak several times in this same office, probably for the same reasons:

"That’ll be enough, Frank…"

She didn’t expect much other than the music to stop, and yet when the echo of the notes quivered in the sudden silence, a weird, uncomfortable shudder shook her in the armchair. The office was still spinning but she gripped the thick edge of the table, on each side of the notebook open in front of her.

"What do you think is gonna happen for us all, here? The hosts, the guests, the staff…"

Bernard’s eyebrows raised, his forehead folding in several worried and surprised wrinkles.

"Well," he started, sitting back a little in his chair. "Peter and I are doing our best to try to solve all this peacefully. The 'hostages' will be freed as soon as possible and…"

His gaze betrayed his own doubts when he looked away from Vivian’s, who gritted her teeth, almost furious from the fear growing in her chest.

"And the hosts will have time to figure something out for themselves…"

He cracked a nervous smile before adding, on a joking tone which left Vivian unfazed:

"For ourselves, should I say."

"And what if things can’t be solved peacefully?"

Her question, as cold as the sweat that was making her clothes stick to the skin on her back, made Bernard wince again. He pushed his glasses back up the ridge of his nose. Tears, and a furious urge to shout grabbed Vivian by the throat.

"Please, Bernard. Help me save Lawrence from here…"

All his micro-expressions betrayed his embarrassment more surely than his voice when he muttered:

"I’m… I’m sorry, Vivian. I… I don’t know how we…"

"He told me he wanted to leave this place!" she insisted, as if that could change anything. "He doesn’t really believe he can ‘cause of all the bullshit that Delos asshole kept pulling on us but…"

Her voice broke.

"He wants to…"

She sniffled the tears threatening her.

"Really?" Saying this, Bernard sounded as surprised as interested. 

Vivian just nodded, slowly — she could only hold her tears back for so long… She pursed her lips and a light sob shook her. She was loosing hope, now… After the euphoria over Bernard's revelations, the recognition that she hadn’t imagined everything that had brought her to this point, and a rekindling of that fragile hope, she was losing it again. The cruelty of this feeling was revolting. And Bernard's thoughtful silence added to it.

The metallic sound of the elevator coming up startled her in her seat; her hand left the edge of the desk to push away the side of her labcoat, freeing the handle of her gun. Bernard, however, didn’t seem to worry. The doors opened on Maeve and, just out of the cabin and crossing the hall, she snarked at them:

"One moment alone and you already put one of them back in that chair? I’m starting to doubt your loyalty, Bernard."

He didn’t take offense. He only answered, calm:

"This one is as much a friend as Felix."

"I know too few of them that can pretend to that honor to believe you on your word."

Neither Vivian, nor Bernard, replied. Maeve stopped between the two chairs, in front of Vivian, staring her down from all her height.

"And what were you so emotional about?"

Bernard was the one to anwser to that:

"The awakening of consciousness that… that Vivian observed in other hosts."

"Hmm! And who joined the club, then?"

Vivian winced but still didn’t answer. Even when Maeve asked her, bluntly:

"You were down there, then? In the park."

Maeve’s facial expression twitched slightly in frustration.

"I don’t recall having seen you here. Not these days, not ever for that matter."

"You weren’t part of my batch," Vivian answered flatly. "And yes, I was in the park."

"Enjoying some killing and fucking, I presume? One has to blow some steam, isn’t it. Until everything blows in your face."

Vivian hardly unclenched her teeth to word out:

"You presume wrong, then."

Maeve scoffed, openly disdainful.

"Maeve…" Bernard stepped in, quieting what he might have guessed to be a brewing conflict. "Vivian was in the park because Ford intended for her to die at the gala with everyone else…"

"Is it supposed to make me feel sympathetic?"

"But one of the sentient hosts," Bernard continued, patient and ignoring her interjection. "He… he chose to save her."

"I can’t figure why that poor man would choose to use his hard earned freedom through decades of suffering to save one of his tormentors?!"

Her jab hurt Vivian.

"You’re gonna have to ask him that," she stated to cut the debate short, then turned to Bernard. "Please, at least help me bring him back before they reach Dolores and her army!"

"What does he intend to do, fight them?" Maeve asked, doubtful. "To save more like you?"

"Yes," Vivian answered, almost more for Bernard than for her. "And I don’t want him to be hacked into pieces!"

"I… I’m not sure Peter will accept to mobilize anyone," he told her, embarrassed. "Not for anything else than recovering hosts for Livestock."

"Yeah, well, if I can prevent him from coming back on a stretcher, I’d rather do that."

Also, according to her, the Professor didn’t have to know!

"This man made the choice to go rescue others now, darling. Live with that!"

Vivian was getting tired of Maeve’s ice bitch-queen attitude, but that was something she could live with. What didn’t sit right with her, however, was the disdain with which she greeted everything that was leaving her mouth, insulting as she went the painful decisions Lawrence and her had made to survive, or to mutually protect each other.

"A man in tears didn’t make a choice," she retorted, with a calm that surprised even herself. "He made a sacrifice."

And Maeve scoffed, unmoved.

"Did you want something, Maeve?" Bernard then inquired.

"To report the results of my negotiating in Pariah. The Confederados agreed to listen to me. Charming individuals…"

Her irony almost made Vivian smile, this time; she was sharing the feeling. But she only had the hint of a tense smirk.

"One of their officers, a captain or something along those lines, agreed to come with us to gather his solders as soon as possible. Unlike El Lazo who’s still deaf to my fine words…"

She had a dubious pout, as she tapped her nails on the glossy wood of the desk behind the lamp stand. 

"This man really needs help," she went on, serious. "I don't believe he understands what's going on, and I’m not being dramatic when I say that every word I speak are making him worse! And according to Felix, his state is beyond his skills."

"I’ll come with you next time, then."

"No, we need you here, and your little indisposition set us back enough as it is. I’d rather you teach Felix how to proceed."

"His state may require the Mesa’s equipment," Bernard observed.

Vivian refrained from commenting; she knew all too well was was going on with El Lazo, and his state flat-out required the Mesa’s equipment indeed. In her pocket, the tablet beeped softly and when she whipped it out, she saw the pop up on the simplified display. Heart racing, she jumped to her feet.

"If you’ll excuse me…"

She thought she heard Bernard answer to her courtesy but she was already rushing to the elevator — Josela and Hank were in Livestock.

Tag list: @hathorik , @pheedraws , @something-tofightfor , @the-blind-assassin-12

#westworld #westworld fanfic #westworld fic #fic:journey into night #full diagnostic series #my writing #ocs #oc:vivian

[teddywesworl]

Dissonance Theory - a Westworld fusion AU

Steddie Big Bang @steddiebang project 057 in collaboration with @nommedeploom

#steddie #steddie fic #steddie big bang #my fic #dissonance theory #westworld au

[prolix-yuy]

Chapter 1: I Once Had a Different Path

Pairing: Jack "Whiskey" Daniels x F!Reader "Sugar"

Summary: It's only been a year.

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: T, discussions of a bad relationship, drinking, little bit of angst, will be E in later chapters so full series is 18+ MINORS DNI.

Notes: Welcome back to Westworld Whiskey! Almost the moment I finished Cognitive Dissonance the idea for this fic leapt into my head, and I've been trying to figure it all out since! The outpouring of love for this story makes me unreasonably giddy, and I am so excited to share what Jack and Sugar have been up to.

This story takes place exactly a year after the events of Cognitive Dissonance. Honestly, the Westworld timeline is confusing as heck, and so much happens that the public wouldn't know or see, so in terms of the show it's taking place after the fall of the Delos theme parks early in season 3. I'm taking some liberties with how Westworld and the world around it works, but we should all have a good time because of it. For those not as familiar with later seasons, the "real world" takes place in 2053 in a modern futuristic setting.

Cross-posted on AO3

Decoherence Masterlist   ||   Whiskey & Westworld Masterlist

The glow of sun on your back, baking into your skin and spreading golden through your limbs, makes today feel like a really freaking good day. You’re wearing your favorite outfit, your shoes are comfy on your feet, and the air is just warm enough that you don’t have to wear a heavy jacket. When the door to the coffee shop schicks open, the uplifting scent of dark roast and cinnamon sugar practically dances on your tongue.

Strike that. A fantastic day.

Lacey is already at her favorite sitting spot, a low table with two high-backed armchairs jammed in a corner far from the automated baristas and hiss of milk froth. She catches sight and waves, bright peony pink in her chiffon dress. Curled in the chair she’s akin to neapolitan ice cream, and just as cool when she gestures to your waiting cup. Not before jumping up to give you a hug, though.

“I’m so glad to see you! It’s been too long!” she exclaims, a sentiment you’ve often heard from long-lost acquaintances but Lacey puts every ounce of honesty behind it. You give her another squeeze before settling in your proffered chair, cradling the thick retro ceramic mug in your hands.

“Well you’ve been pretty busy, Mrs. Hughes,” you sing-song, back, knocking your shoes off so you can settle more comfortably. “How was the honeymoon? The photos were gorgeous.”

You descend into vacation chatter, looking at photos on Lacey’s phone and laughing over whatever little anecdote she shares. The coffee buzzes pleasantly in your veins, bittersweet on your tongue. The sun streams in the café window and drapes warmth across your shoulders again. 

It feels like the perfect day.

"How's married life treating you?"

Lacey smiles, bright enough to crinkle her whole face, and the radiance of it blooms in your chest.

"Not much different really, which is probably for the best," she says, taking another sip of her coffee. You're prepared to ask her something else, some follow-up question, when she reaches over and squeezes your hand.

"You look really good, too," she says, her eyes softening. "I know it was hard, with the wedding and everything going on with Eric at the same time, but...you look so much happier."

Your throat tightens, but it's a welcome feeling for once.

"I am. Much happier."

She’s right. It was hard. Once you were alone with your thoughts, your decision made, all of the terrifying reality had crashed down on you. You’d sobbed in your car, half curled in the driver's seat, trying to will yourself to go inside and face Eric. 

It didn’t get any better once you finally did. The shouting, the accusations, the tears, and shockingly a chair kicked against the wall so hard it left an ugly dent. He never laid a hand on you, but the anger raked across your pounding heart, the cruelty sinking into your flesh like teeth. You grabbed just enough of your things to escape, his bellowing voice following you as your hands shook.

What the fuck do you mean you’re leaving?

What the hell did Lacey say to you?

Are you fucking serious? 

After all I’ve done for us?

I can’t believe you’re being so selfish.

What has gotten into you?

The words echoed between your ears while you laid in your motel room bed, too raw and ashamed to call anyone for a place to stay. You woke stiff and silent and achingly alone, and regret welled in your throat.

Were you being stupid? Were you giving up the life you were supposed to have?

But then the day passed, hours spent driving aimlessly with the radio on low, long walks on bike paths lost in your thoughts. And while failure burned behind your eyes, the dreaded whispers of why didn’t you try harder creeping into your brain, the vice grip in your chest began to unwind. A lightness you hadn’t felt in years began lifting your shoulders, your head, even the corners of your mouth. 

The neverending ache was finally gone. 

You slept better that night, and in the morning you called Lacey. She drove out to pick you up, her tight embrace ushering in a new flood of tears. 

“Oh sweetie, I’m so sorry,” is all she says at first, rocking you back and forth like when you were both young and upset about a schoolyard fight. Then more pointed questions, her face hardening as you detail the slow descent into unhappiness you’d been hiding from her for years.

“He never did anything bad. I just…I couldn’t…” You struggled to voice all the fears that still lingered until she squeezed your hands.

“He didn’t have to treat you badly to not treat you the way you wanted. And if he can’t change, or doesn’t want to change, then this isn’t right for you.”

A fresh wave of tears followed the well-worn tracks down your face.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

She rubbed at your face with a crumpled tissue.

“Everything is going to be okay.’

It took a few days before the tornado of Lacey’s true feelings pulled to the forefront. Later she’d tell you she barely kept her cool while you cried in her living room, Alan instructing her to punch it out at the gym rather than overwhelm you. But barely settled into your temporary housing, she rang you in the middle of the day. 

“We’re getting your stuff.”

“What…?”

“Eric is at work, Alan did a drive-by and checked. He’s waiting with the truck. I’m picking you up and we’re getting your things, then we’re going to leave your key on the table and never go back.”

She was chatting in low tones with Alan when you answered the door, face lined with concern. The stern expression melted into dismay when she took in your tired eyes and sloped shoulders.

“That motherfucker should be ashamed of himself for doing this to you,” she spits out, crushing you into a hug that almost suffocates you.

“Lace, I was the one…” you tried to say, but she cut you off with a sharp chop of her hand.

“I’ve got plenty to say about Eric and what I think about him when everything settles, but I’ll tell you this - I fucking hate him for making you feel like this. And we’re going to get your things and never see him again.”

So you did, emptying your drawers and shared closet - always less room allocated for you than him. Lacey shuffled through mail and tossed in anything that had your name on it in a bankers box. Later you’d have to disentangle your lives, but for now you could take solace in having your toiletries back, and placing your photos and family heirlooms safe in Alan’s truck. He helped move your grandmother’s hope chest into the truck bed, and silently drove as Lacey let you lean on her shoulder. Your childhood stuffed dog sat in your lap, and its gentle weight gave you a moment of relief.

Eric’s shouting through the phone later that night sliced across your chest, but only for a brief moment. You’d left the ring on the counter, and that thankfully shut him up.

The following months had been a blur of canceled engagements, severed services, broken agreements and bitter voicemails. Eric tried a few times to entice you back, forgiving you for having cold feet and wanting to get dinner, coffee, to talk. Your heart tugged at the softness in his voice.

We can still make this work.

But then the cold reality of the situation crept in. He wanted the picture-perfect life he thought he deserved. He wanted to have everything without working for it. And most of all, he wanted you to be grateful for him giving you everything he thought you deserved. Not what you wanted, but what he decided you should want.

That was never going to change.

Lacey and Alan helped where they could, but you didn’t want to taint the excitement of their upcoming nuptials. So you told them you were fine and signed a lease on a modest apartment while you picked out the barbs of Eric’s latest outburst. You picked out a dress for her wedding and were secretly grateful that she didn’t make you a bridesmaid. You didn’t think you’d be able to keep it together in front of all her family and friends. You drank too much champagne and considered a tumble with one of Alan’s single friends but instead threw up in your hotel room toilet and woke up fully clothed on top of the bed. The first thought that greeted you once you could see through your headache was, “Thank fuck I’m not getting married.”

The giggles were sharp against your sore stomach, but with that you finally felt something in you begin healing.

“...and I know I wasn’t around as much as I could have been, and it kills me that you were going through it alone, and on my bachelorette for crying out loud, how insensitive was that…”

Lacey’s diatribe brings you back to the café and your cooling coffee and Lacey’s earnest grip on your hand. You shush her with a few squeezes.

“You were a big part of why I finally got up the courage to leave. And I am so fucking glad I did,” you say, earning another smile that glitters with morning light. 

“I think someone else also had some influence,” Lacey says, looking pointedly over her cup as she takes an innocent sip. Your brow furrows briefly before the implication of her tone slams into your chest.

Jack.

“That was a year ago…holy shit, today,” Lacey exclaims, twisting her wrist to verify on her smart watch. 

“Wow, yeah,” you say weakly, swirling the dregs of coffee in your cup.

Yet again, Lacey isn’t wrong. Jack did open your eyes to a world that could offer the care and comfort you were yearning for. But you’d been forced to push memories of him to the back of your mind. 

Weeks after the breakup, with Lacey lying on your brand new bed in your half-empty apartment, you told her about your weekend with the suave yet gentle cowboy. She interjected with excited “I knew it!” and “Holy shit yes!” exclamations as you recounted the cattle run, the innocent lie, the dinner, and the lust-filled night (heavily redacted, met with disappointment). Once the story was told you laid beside each other, silence stretching until she finally said, “I’m so happy Jack helped you realize you deserve more.”

So were you.

“Did you ever think about booking another weekend?” Lacey asks, placing her cup down so she can more fully watch you, playful smirk making you roll your eyes. “I mean, before all the stuff in the news about them.”

Guests injured in the park. A veil of silence and NDAs falling over Delos. An uncertain return.

You chew on your answer for a moment. It’s easy to chalk up not going back to the current state of the park, but in recent weeks you had been thinking more and more about Jack. Maybe it was some old movie you caught late at night, horses riding across gloriously wide plains. A cowboy hat or two you swore you saw in a crowd, only to be tricked by perspective and light. Strong, broad silhouettes that reminded you of large hands, a clever mouth, a warm embrace.

Tell her the truth.

“No,” you finally sigh, putting your cup down a little firmly.

You couldn’t.

“Why not?”

“It’s all fantasy, I’m not into that more than once.”

You couldn’t bear to see him again.

“Not even a little more fantasy with a certain cowboy?” Her eyes drop to your left hand, and you realize you’ve been slowly rotating the turquoise band she gave you on your ring finger. When you returned the engagement ring it became a comforting weight replacing what you’d given up. You fold them instead under Lacey’s watchful eye.

“It’s not real,” is the excuse you give.

He’s not real, and you can’t have him.

Lacey shrugs, looking at the time again and gathering up her coat.

“Real enough that you changed your whole life over it,” she observes, not unkindly. You stand up as she gathers her purse.

“It was a perfect weekend. Going back would have ruined it.” 

Him not remembering you would have ruined it.

Lacey sighs but acquiesces, giving you a hug and confirming your next coffee date in a couple weeks. They’ve become a sweet schedule you look forward to more than you thought.

Once she breezes out the door, all summer blush and cosmopolitan chic, you join the line to get a coffee to go. The machine at work is dismal, and you’d much rather spend the four dollars. You enter your order on the cool blue holoscreen and step to the side to wait. The warmth of a good conversation bubbles in your veins, a beam of sunlight caressing your back. Even the brief memory of Jack you allow - his hands soft on your skin, the tender brush of his nose on your cheek, how safe you felt in his arms - fills your heart to bursting. A smile plumps your cheek. Today really is an exceptional day.

But oddly enough, your toes are wet. 

Looking down, you can’t help but let out an exasperated, “Oh c’mon you idiot,” as you realize you didn’t put your shoes back on, and have now stepped in someone’s spilled beverage. So maybe not the perfect day, but you’re close enough to home to swing by and grab a new pair of socks. Shaking your head, you spin on your heel to retrieve your abandoned shoes.

You could have done it a breath sooner, or later, and never been the wiser. Or you could have kept your damn shoes on - do we live in a barn, your mother’s voice echoes in your ears - and avoided the issue in the first place. But today, on an exceptionally perfect day, you turn and take a step just as someone passes behind you, propelling your frame into their broader form. You almost bounce, but the stranger catches you by your shoulders, large firm palms wrapping around your biceps.

“Whoa there,” a deep voice says, laced with a southern drawl. It tickles something in your brain, neurons firing at memories close to the surface. 

“Shit, sorry,” you mumble, stepping back to apologize properly to the man you almost bowled over. As your eyes begin their ascent the voice is clearer, sharp as a bullwhip crack.

“You okay Sugar?”

Your breath freezes in your throat, eyes snapping to the man’s face. He swims in your vision before the soft curl of his brown hair, the delicate trim of his mustache, the hawkish curve to his nose comes into focus. If that wasn’t enough for your short-circuiting brain to manage, his plush lips part in concern, deep chocolate eyes darting across your face.

Jack?

“I - oh,” he says, his grip tightening on your shoulders. You wrench back, stumbling a half step away, still locked on his face.

Jack Jack Jack Jack Jack

People are looking at you now, agape and struggling to pull in a full breath, your brain tumbling like Alice down the rabbit hole.

Can’t be.

Jack.

Not real.

Jack.

How?

Jack.

“I can explain…”

Then the whole world shifts, and you’re falling.

NEXT

#jack whiskey daniels x you #jack whiskey daniels x reader #jack whiskey daniels x f!reader #jack whisky daniels fanart #jack daniels x f!reader #jack daniels x reader #jack daniels x female reader #agent whiskey x female reader #agent whiskey x you #agent whiskey x reader #kingsman the golden circle fanfiction #westworld fanfiction #prolix fics

[steddieunderdogfics]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/52644010

‘Dissonance Theory’ by teddywesworl - one of my favorite steddie fics i’ve read recently, such a cool take on an AI/sci-fi AU and a really fun reminder of how much i loved season 1 of Westworld

Dissonance Theory by colossalflea, teddywesworl

Rating: Explicit

29,769 words, 4/4 chapters

Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions of Violence

Tags: Androids, Cowboy Steve Harrington, Android Steve Harrington, Technician Eddie Munson, Alternate Universe - Westworld Fusion, Westworld Spoilers, Don't Have to Know Westworld Canon, Canon-Typical Violence, Existential Crisis, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Past Sexual Assault, Mild Gore, Eventual Happy Ending, Knifeplay, Blood Kink, Painplay, Masochism, Blow Jobs, Deepthroating, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Under-negotiated Kink, Light Dom/sub, Sub Eddie Munson, HBO canceled Westworld so it's my city now, Dom Steve Harrington

Summary:

In the most exclusive luxury attraction on Earth, Steve Harrington follows a scripted loop of violence and cruelty. He’s the spoiled son of a rancher. He’s a black hat villain for guests to feel good about killing, over and over again. He’s malfunctioning, and repair techs Eddie Munson and Robin Buckley have to figure out why he hesitates to fire his gun. OR: Steve is an android built to entertain rich shitheads in an Old West-themed amusement park, and Eddie is one of the techs who puts him back together after he gets shot. Did you really think teddywesworl wouldn’t write a Westworld AU?

Thanks for the rec!

This rec is a part of Theme Weekend. The theme this weekend is alternate universes.

Know a fic that deserves extra love? Submit through our asks or the submission box!

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #steddie fic recs #stranger things #sci fi #westworld fusion #cowboy au #android au #tw grap #eventual happy ending #smut #westworld

[agentwhiskeysdarlin]

Glitch

Pairing: Logan Delos x F!Reader

Rating: NSFW 18+ 

Warnings: (there are a lot) me barley knowing a thing about Westworld or how it works, Westworld typical violence, robbery, Logan comes with his own warning, reader is a bit of a could care less badass, use of a gun, people being k worded, the use of the nickname Princess, (y/n) being used a few times, consumption of alcohol, Logan’s filthy mouth, slight angst, smutty good times, saliva being used as lube, p in v sex, rough sex, unprotected sex, slight dom/sub undertones, mentions of drug use briefly, little bit of fluff, reader’s dad is an asshole…I think that’s it

Word Count: 3.8k

Author’s Notes: Well it’s been a minute but here is another fic I have had written but never posted. This was another Midnights fic and the second I heard this song Logan was the first person to come to mind. This was so fun to write and I hope to write more for this guy in the future. Massive thanks to my editor @clint-aww-no-barton​ and to all of you for the love. I hope you enjoy this! I am going to be using the last taglist on a Ben fic I have. If you want to be added to future fics or removed please let me know!

song link

ao3 link

This work is intended for adult eyes only. By continuing, you agree that you are 18 or older

We were supposed to be just friends

You don't live in my part of town but maybe l'll see you out some weekend

Depending on what kind of mood and situation-ship l'm in

And what's in my system

  The sun’s rays held a brutal heat. The only shade, was what little, the wagon gave you as you rode. The town you had just left was growing smaller and smaller and your plan was starting to come together. You grinned to yourself, feeling that adrenaline building in your stomach that you loved so much.

  Westworld had become a place for you to let loose. Your father was an investor and you were always the good little girl, who did everything she was told. Not here. Here you were ruthless and didn’t give a fuck. There wasn’t a single person who would report back to your father, and it was the most peace you’d felt in your life. As twisted as that was.

  The wagon came to a jolting stop and your eyebrows knit together. You glanced around the side and noticed four people, guns in hands, a robbery. Not on your watch. You turned, moving the bandana around your neck over your mouth to hide what little of your face that your hat didn’t cover. You held back as the confrontation unfolded, and then you noticed him. Dramatically dressed in all black and clearly the leader of his little pack, a gun held tight in his hand. You smirked. This was going to be too much fun. You jumped off the wagon and rounded it, coming to the end of the barrel of his gun.

  “Now what’s this?” He spoke, and confirmed just who was standing in front of you.

  “This here is my wagon, and I’ll be damned if I let some fucker like you take it from me,” you leaned on the wagon, a smirk hidden.

  “Call me a fucker one more time,” he spoke through gritted teeth, his face also mostly covered.

  Not those wild brown eyes though. You let out a laugh as he came closer to you the gun almost to your forehead.

  “Oh you’re fucker alright, but you won’t shoot me Delos,” you pulled your bandana down, revealing your face, a smirk on your lips.

  “Well I’ll be damned. You’re the last person I thought I’d ever see here.”

  “Surprise,” you laughed. “Help me get rid of these guys? I’ll let you have half. I’ve got a guy in the next town who needs some of this. We trade for a roof over my head while I’m there.”

  “You got yourself a deal.”

  Logan Delos stuck his hand out and you shook it, smirking up at him. Logan was the main investor in Westworld, and pretty much ruled the entire thing. He was set to take it over eventually which was just fine. He’d become sort of a friend over the years, your fathers having worked together on other projects. Logan knew your other side, way better than he knew the ruthless woman that stood in front of him, and it excited you even more to show him.

  Logan backed up with a smirk and a wink thrown your way, and the fight was on. Gunshots rang out all around you, and you pulled your own pistol from its holster on your thigh, taking two of the guys down. One of the guys in Logan’s posse was down, but you knew all too well he would be fine.

  “(Y/N) you can ride up with me on the wagon. William and Dolores get him up and go get the horses. You can follow.”

  They almost argued, then their eyes glanced around and they thought better of it. Smart people. You knew the man sitting next to you was dangerous and wild. Most people didn’t know to get out of his way, but you did. You knew Logan would never lay a finger on you, no matter what, and that brought you comfort.

  “What in the world are you doing here?” He spoke after you set off again.

  “Oh just experiencing,” you smirked looking at him.

  “I know there’s more than that.”

  “I come here to let loose. I get so sick of being the good girl. So I come here, where I know no one will report back to my parents. I let it all out here.”

  “I never knew you had it in you,” Logan smirked. “I like it. Plus what happens in Westworld stays in Westworld.”

  “I like that philosophy,” you smirked as you looked at him, catching his eyes.

  “We’re going to have so much fun here, Princess.”

  You both smirked, before Logan snapped the reins and the horses moved forward quicker.

****

I think there's been a glitch, ah-yeah

Five seconds later I'm fastening myself to you with a stitch, ah-yeah And I'm not even sorry

Nights are so starry

Blood moonlit

It must be counterfeit

I think there's been a glitch, ah-yeah

  The sun was almost down when you made it into the town you always settled in. It was small and usually not a lot of trouble made its way through. Logan climbed off the wagon and came around, holding his hand out for you. You took it with a smile before heading into the saloon.

  “(Y/N)!” The bar keep and owner called, as you walked in, the eyes of every person inside turning to you.

  “Henry how are you?”

  “Doin good. Did you get it?”

  “Now that’s a silly question, of course I got it. It’s out here in the wagon.”

  “Damn you’re good. I’ll come take a look with you and bring some guys I trust to unload it.”

  You gave him a nod, a proud smile plastered on your face. He walked out with Logan and yourself, checking everything. Him and Logan talked through the split and soon everything was unloaded and the wagon was hidden in a safe place.

  “My room available?” You leaned over the bar.

  “Of course it is and there is another one for your partner.” Henry nodded toward Logan, and the others he had been traveling with.

  They had settled at a table all drinking. Logan was already up, being social and you watched as he flirted with a table of other guest. You scowled to yourself, trying not to let it get to you. You were crazy to ever think Logan would look at you as more than friends. You may have dreamed of it for years, but you knew better. He didn’t go for girls like you and you knew that. The small hope that things could be different here, evaporated with the sight in front of you.

  “Thanks Henry.” You gave him a soft smile and he frowned at your change of mood.

  “You got it.”

  Henry had helped you the first time you came to Westworld, and got yourself into some trouble. He’d patched you up and been kind. He was a host, but he was the only one you didn’t mind and would do anything you could for. You gave him a nod and walked over to the table, throwing the other key down.

  “I got y’all a room. Stay if you want.”

  Your words curt, before turning and heading upstairs to the rooms. You glanced over at Logan, who leaned on a table smirking away. His eyes glanced up and you caught them for a brief moment, before you turned away and took the stairs. You walked to the last room on the right. which had become a familiar safe place here. You unlocked the door and walked inside, feeling yourself slightly relax for the first time all day. You hadn’t gotten far inside, when there was a knock at your door. You let out a sigh before turning to open it. There was Logan, leaning on the doorframe looking devastating.

  “What do you want?” You didn’t mean for the words to come out snappy, but they did.

  “I was coming to check on you. You looked pissed when you came up here.”

  “I’m fine,” you turned leaving the door open giving him the option to stay or go.

  “You’re also a terrible liar Princess,” there was that damn nickname he loved to use on you.

  You turned to him and looked him up and down, before catching his eyes. His tongue darted out wetting his lips slowly. His own eyes raked over your body and you might as well have been naked.

  “You jealous I was flirting with them folks downstairs?” He cocked his head, before stepping slowly into the room.

  “No,” your eyes darted away and you wanted to kick yourself.

  You watched as he kicked the door shut slightly too hard making you jump. Again you wanted to mentally kick yourself.

  “Now Princess, you know there’s not a single person in this damn place I would rather sleep with than you.”

  You stood in pure shock for a few moments, a smirk growing on Logan’s face.

  “I’m sorry did a host take you over? Is this place glitching? Never in a million years did I think you would ever even think about sleeping with me.”

  “No glitch Princess, just the honest truth.”

  He stepped forward and you stepped back until you were against the wall across from the door, past the foot of the bed. His hand came up and he took your chin firmly but still gentle.

  “I’ve wanted to devour you ever since we met, and being here makes it so much worse. I’m about to make you scream so loud this entire town will fucking hear you.”

  You couldn’t speak, you could barley breathe anymore. You looked up in his eyes panting, trying desperately to collect yourself.

  “Then do it,” you didn’t even care that the words came out low and broken.

  Your usual confidence was gone, and you were at the mercy of the man in front of you. He smirked before he crashed his lips to yours. It was hungry, passionate, wanting, everything faded away and nothing else mattered other than what he was doing to you in this very moment. He reached to undo the top you had been wearing. You had opted for easier to move in clothes, instead of the usual dress you wore when you came to Westworld. He had it off in seconds, leaving your chest bare. He had only moved his lips from yours long enough to discard it, and then he was back. His hands came up, cupping your breasts, and you let out a gasp your lips falling from his. You panted and looked down, watching as he kneaded at your breasts before pulling your nipples between his fingers. You let out a yelp.

  “Fuck can we just skip the fucking foreplay please,” you begged him, going for his jacket and shirt, shoving them to the floor.

  “Oh it would be my pleasure. We have time for that later,” Logan agreed with a chuckle.

  The next few moments were nothing but a mess of clothes hitting the floor, and then he had you down on the bed your legs hanging off. He pushed your legs apart and you let out a giggle you couldn’t help. The sight in front of you was unreal, and you thought you would wake up at any second. He leaned forward and spit on your pussy, making you gasp and then smirk. Then he was entering you to the hilt. You threw your head back as your hands fisted at the sheets.

  “Oh fuck!” You moaned loudly.

  “Fuck you feel so good,” Logan panted out.

  He started to move slowly at first, getting you used to the wonderful stretch he was causing you, and then he began snapping his hips harder and faster. You fell into complete bliss. A man had never made you feel this incredible, and you never wanted it to end. Logan reached down, his hand coming to the back of your neck and his fingers fisted in your hair. He jerked you up, pulling a yelp from you, but you were met with him bending closer so your foreheads pressed together. Your eyes locked with his as he fucked you into oblivion. He picked up on his speed which you didn’t know was possible.

  “Fuck Logan!” You all but screamed.

  “That’s it Princess. Let them all know,” he laughed as he reached down with his other hand and started to rub at your clit rapidly.

  Your legs started to shake and you snapped, cumming so hard it made you dizzy. You screamed as your head went back, making Logan lose his grip on you slightly. Your pussy grasped his cock like a vice and soon he was cumming deep inside of you, letting out his own groans and curses.

  “Holy shit,” you panted after you came down from your high.

  “That was incredible. I can’t believe I waited that long to do that,” Logan smirked as he pulled from you.

  The both of you winced slightly at the loss of each other. You lay there for a few more moments, until you thought your legs could carry you, and you walked into the bathroom. You cleaned yourself up quickly, before returning finding Logan already under the covers in bed. You smirked and shook your head at him.

  “I can’t believe you waited that long either. I’m still shocked it happened,” you slid into bed next to him, and he pulled you to his chest.

  You turned on your stomach so you could look up at him, and idly let your fingers brush at his chest.

  “Why are you so shocked I wanted to sleep with you?” Logan asked as he propped his head on his other arm.

  “I didn’t think I was your type. I’ve seen the women you’ve been with before. I’m nothing like them.”

  “You’re not,” he paused and your eyebrows knitted together. “You are so much better. You’re actually good for me (Y/N).”

  “I don’t know about that,” you scoffed softly.

  “I do. You’re the only woman I want a clear head with when I’m around you.”

  You looked at him in shook and awe. Logan had been doing drugs and drinking for as long as you knew him, which was heartbreaking to you. You enjoyed your drink every now and then, but you tended to stay away from drugs.

  “Does this,” you motioned between the two of you. “Fall under the philosophy?”

  “The, what happens in Westworld stays in Westworld one?” Logan questioned.

  You simply nodded your head. Your stomach was in knots with the slight hope this could continue outside of this.

  “No it doesn’t. When we go back I’d like to take you on a real date, if you’ll have me?”

  “I would love that Logan,” you smiled almost too brightly at the idea.

  He leaned down and kissed you more gently than the time before.

  “Now let’s rest so we can cause more hell together tomorrow.”

  “They are going to end up calling us Bonnie and Clyde,” you let out a laugh.

  “That’s perfectly alright with me Princess.”

  “Me too.”

  You smirked up at each other. You settled your head back down to his chest and soon you were fast asleep.

*one week later*

I was supposed to sweat you out

In search of glorious happenings of happenstance on someone else's playground

But it's been 2,190 days of our love blackout

(Our love is blacking out)

The system's breaking down (The system's breaking down)

  A week of pure bliss passed you by with barley any acknowledgment. Logan and yourself had spent the week fucking each other’s brains out, and being outlaws. You had killed together and laughed afterwards. You had stolen from multiple people and rode off into sunsets without a single care. It had been the best week of your life. Now, unfortunately, you were separated but all for the cause.

  Henry had asked for another delivery of explosives, and now you sat high on a cliff on your horse, staking out the path the wagon would take. After your robbery of the first shipment a week ago they had gotten smart and decided to take, what they thought was, a hidden path. Little did they know you knew about it, having taken it yourself before. Logan was somewhere across the desert doing some scouting of his own. You would meet back in the morning and form a plan to get the shipment.

  “Let’s go girl,” you knocked your feet gently against your horse and turned her.

  The sun was starting to set and you needed to get back into town before it completely left the sky. Logan had decided he would spend the night out and you knew he would be fine. He was smart and you swore he knew this place better than you did. You rode in content, not being met with another soul. It was rides like this that made you love this place even more. The action and the letting go was fun, but the silence that sometimes came with the desert was incredible.

You rode back into town, sliding off your horse in front of the saloon. You walked her around back and tied her to the small barn Henry had. You gave her some extra pets and then made your way through the back door. The saloon wasn’t as crowded as it normally was, which was a little odd to you but you didn’t think much of it. You walked up to the bar sliding into a seat.

  “Just give me a water. I ran out halfway back,” you gave Henry a smile.

  “Do you think you can get it?”

  “Such little faith in me. Of course I can get it. It will be all about trapping them within that back pathway they think no one knows about. Then we’ll be golden. Plus I’ll have some extra firepower on my side this time.”

  Henry gave you an excited smile. You chuckled before taking a decent gulp of your water and turning in your stool. You watched the other people bustle about the bar, music coming from the man playing the piano in the corner. You smiled once again to yourself. The only thing that could make this night perfect was if Logan was next to you. Then you heard it. The thunder of a galloping horse coming into town. You turned and looked at Henry who shrugged his shoulders.

  “Be ready. That doesn’t sound friendly.”

  You felt a chill go up your spine and prickle the hairs on the back of your neck. Something was about to go down and you didn’t know what, but it was putting you on edge. The horse stopped in front of the bar, everyone else watched the door closely but went on about their business, trying to stay out of trouble. You kept yourself leaned against the bar nonchalantly, watching the swinging door. That’s when the last person you thought you would see here burst through, and charged straight for you.

  “Well look at what I found.”

  Your father. He was angry to a point you had never seen him.

  “Daddy what are you doing here?” The good girl act went up like a wall.

  “Had a fellow…business colleague tip me off you were here. So I came to bring you back home.”

  Your stomach dropped. Had Logan somehow gotten word back to your father you were here? Was this all a set up? You wanted to scream, cry and kill him all at once. You gulped, trying to push back the emotions you knew were clearly playing on your face.

  “Let’s go. Now!”

  “No. I’m not leaving.” You stood your ground, holding your head high.

  “Oh yes you are,” he spoke between gritted teeth as he stepped forward and grabbed you, and started to pull you toward the door.

  “Stop! You’re hurting me!” You called out, not a single person leapt to your defense.

  “Now what the hell is going on here?”

  Logan stepped through the door, coming face to face with your father. They stood too close and the look on Logan’s face could only be described as pure fury.

  “Oh of course you’re here. I can assume you’re the one corrupting my daughter?”

  “Where are you going?”

  Logan’s eyes softened when they looked your way. You knew in that moment he wasn’t the snitch, and you felt yourself release a breath you had no idea you were holding.

  “Home,” the voice came out still as a tremble.

  “Let her go.” Logan spoke with a curl of his lip and a loon on his face that told you he would kill your father in a second.

  The entire room had fallen into complete silence.

  “She’s my daughter. I don’t think I will.” Your father stood up against Logan.

  “You do know I can completely ruin you right? I can put your business under so far you’ll never dig yourself out. Her on the other hand…” Logan nodded at you. “She would be sitting pretty by my side getting everything she ever wanted and more.”

  “Are you threatening to blackmail me?”

  “Oh no. I’m promising to. Now. Let. Her. Go.”

  Everyone was still for a long moment and then your father released you. He glared back at you, but didn’t speak a word. You had no idea what would happen if you ever left this place and it sent more panic up your spine. He pushed past Logan roughly, and after a few moments he was riding away. The bar slowly went back to normal and Logan came over to you. He pulled you into his arms and kissed the top of your head.

  “Are you okay?”

  You could only nod your head. You could feel the tears trying to spill and Logan must have sensed it.

  “Let’s go to our room.”

  Once again you simply nodded, and keeping you held close, he walked with you upstairs and into your room. You let your self shatter, turning away so he didn’t see you cry.

  “It’s okay,” he turned you back and pulled you to him once again.

  “I don’t know what I’m going to do when I leave here.”

  “I’ll help you in any way I can. I’ll take you home and stand by your side and if he decides to show his true colors and kick you out you can come stay with me.”

  “Wait. Really?” You looked up at him.

  “Of course. Although I do believe a few more promises will keep him from even looking at you, with any bad intent.”

  You didn’t stop the chuckle as it fell from your lips. You leaned up and he met you, kissing you gently.

  “Thank you Logan,” you spoke the words softly as you pulled away.

  You never knew that this man would end up saving your ass, but he had, more than once. Who knew the man painted the villain would end up becoming your hero.

I think there's been a glitch

Tagged: @mswarriorbabe80 @all-art-is-quite-useless @whatevermonkey @whichdirection @pascalisthepunkest @all-hallows-evie @artsymaddie @vvpoisonous @not-too-tall-for-trick @audreyshepbvrn @noushbitesback @kaqua @wheresthesunshinesblog 

#logan delos #ben barnes #logan delos fic #ben barnes fic #logan delos smut #logan delos x reader #Logan delos x female!reader #Logan delos x f!reader #westworld #I have no idea what to tag this fic

[lurkerdelima]

caught between wanting to share more snippets of Westworld AU and not wanting to give too much away!!

#silverflint #black sails fic #black sails au #Westworld au #black sails #james flint #john silver #work in progress

[ghostlynimbus]

I want a Westworld inspired au rn.

#im thinking #for a harringrove one #billy as a robot and steve as a guest of the park #and for hellcheer... #chrissy as a robot #and eddie whose agent scored him and the band free tickets as a bonus for some deal #hmmm.... #ghost.txt #fic ideas #i havent seen westworld in ages #and i never finished it #i should rewatch and try to finish it #ah or maybe i want steve as a robot #who is programmed to be protective and kind #and billy who is at the park with his father (and susan and max) for some reason? #i dont normally like changing the hargroves financial situation that much #but like #the thought of billys reaction to chivalrous cowboy steve stepping in when neil goes off at him?? #lots to think about

[boliv-jenta]

@prolix-yuy I can't read it yet but I freaked out when I saw the notification said 'Whiskeuly taglist' on it.

Everyone, if you haven't already, you need to check out the Whiskey and Westworld Masterlist.

#so excited #fic rec #go read it! #pedro pascal character fanfiction #jack whiskey daniels #westworld au

[euphorial-docx]

shortest snippet of my westworld au

“So, how does this work?” he asks, facing Mary in the hopes that she’d tell him. “Is there an orientation or something?”

“No orientation. No guide book,” says Mary, closing the door behind them. “Figuring out how it all works is half the fun. All you do is make choices, starting here.”

James nods, as he’s been finding himself doing often since he arrived, and wanders over to one of the clothing racks. There are shoes lined up, all leather and finely made.

“Everything is bespoke and exactly your size,” Mary informs him, trailing closely behind but not suffocatingly so. Oddly enough, her presence is becoming reliable to him; sturdy, consistent.

James reaches out to touch one of the shoes, feeling the smoothness of the leather, the detail of the stitching, the feel of the laces. His focus shifts to Mary, the design of her clothes, the angles of her anatomy. Were both hand-made?

“You want to ask,” Mary acknowledges, seemingly undisturbed by his prying attempts at observations, “so ask.”

“Are you real?”

“If you can’t tell, does it matter?”

#fic: metamorphoses #mary is a robot if you couldn’t tell from this #westworld is about robots

[keyboard-cowgirl]

idk probably a good time to catch up/or refresh on my westworld fics: Aberrant Behavior and C.D. part 1, cause guess who just finished the last scene of part fucking 2?

https://archiveofourown.org/works/37063396/chapters/92480044

#a year later... #rising from the dead to come full circle and post the heartfelt conclusion to a life lived in loops #sometimes one life is all you get #i'm very excited to post but need to give my beta time to help me #but yeah reread or whatever if you want? <3 #hopefully posting 1st chapter next week #sunday maybe? idk but soon #westworld #fic

[peachraindrops]

watching westworld and

manny is in a gd mf henley so forgive me if i'm on the floor melting into molten lava i'm absolutely feral

#you guys if you havne't watched yet #i paused it to write this #because i haven't seen him in a henley since... graceland? #i don't think he was in one in rosewood? #just in fic and in a carousal across my mind #manny montana #westworld #westworld spoilers

[valkblue]

— masterlist, tumblr post masterlist

Chapter 49 on 70

Chapter wordcount: 2.8K Rating: Mature Warning: Naked hosts (as in 'Cold Storage' naked, I mean), Wyatt Men from up close, smartassery and other shenanigans.

Author’s notes: Back in the MIB's POV... He needs a little time to reconsider his life choices.

Ask box always open! I really want to know what you think about this story!

— Chapter 49

Shouts and laughter preceded a gunshot that caused a thunderous roll of hooves and mooing. Sensations returned to William little by little and he winced, chin on his chest, his mouth dry. He gritted his teeth and grunted, trying to move his arms — that was where he was hurting the most.

His thoughts were confused, muddled, and hazy, and he wasted a solid minute wondering why his sharpest thought was an old song from 2012… Something that had been used in a movie. Or not… Everything was a blur again.

He could recognize the Sweetwater Hills, he could remember Teddy, and Lawrence… Anger brought him back to his senses and he glanced to his side for his weapons. But of course, the knife was gone, and so was the LeMat.

"Shit…"

And a queasy feeling made him clench his jaw. He definitely thought he was about to puke. With all the hits he had taken on the head these past few days, he didn’t have much doubt about having a commotion, at this point. If he wasn’t so afraid to throw up what he hadn’t eaten, he would have laughed about it! But William only tried to get out of the restraints that were tying his arms in his back, and around the wooden post he had been propped against.

On the small square between the house he could guess in his back and the wooden barn in front of him, there was a chaos of sounds and colors he assumed to be the hosts of Dolores' crew. Much more than the ten or so who had come to grab him in those same hills, earlier this morning.

By the way, what time was it now?

Judging by the position of the sun, pfff… If he hadn’t gotten an umpteenth blow to the head, William could have told, and would have been more likely to give a shit about it!

But for now, he was hurting too bad. And the pain in his whole right side made him draw a sharp breath, raising his head to face the morning sun, blinking behind the big oak’s twisted branches. William groaned his pain and frustration, and tried to bring his arms closer to him to free himself from this position but, as he expected, they were securely tied behind his back — nothing to do with the bogus knots he had to free himself from up until not so long ago.

He had no trouble recognizing the place; he was sitting under the porch of the Abernathy Ranch, on the extension of the wooden terrace on which he scraped the heels of his boots while trying to straighten up a little, resting his back against the post. The pain in his right shoulder pinned him in place, short of breath, and William didn't push.

In fact, it wasn’t just his arms, he was literally hurting from head to toe; his temples were throbbing with pain from the glare, worse where Teddy's Colt grip struck him, and pins and needles in his numb legs felt like being swarmed by ants now that he was wiggling a bit and the blood was flowing again. It was about as bad as if he had been dragged all the way here behind his horse but for what he could see, opening his eyes a little more despite the splitting headache, his clothes were clean. Now, he could figure out he’d only been thrown across a horse and carried up here like a sack.

William let out a brief grunt when a gust of wind shook the branches, letting the sun splash over his face and he stopped wiggling by himself, taking the time to handle the pain with a few calm breaths. Clouds glided in the sky and covered those pesky rays of light. The wind blew again, bringing him the stinging smell of powder mixed with that of cattle.

Standing there, a good two yards away from him next to the wide trunk of the tree, one of those retired hosts seemed to stare at him with his vacant eyes, and William winced in disgust. He hadn’t paid them too much attention when he was escaping them these past few days; he had only shot randomly at them, noticing the obvious, but now that he had nothing else to do than watch them, he would admit that they were repulsive and kinda nerve-wracking, even. Ford had a weird sense of tragic, and of humor…

William turned to the agitated crowd; he spotted Teddy, a bit aside and, beside the barn, Lawrence who was making friends with his new allies. Watching some more, it seemed to William that the entire courtyard — the entire ranch even — was surrounded by those retired hosts and Wyatt’s men.

Quiet footsteps pounded on the porch’s floorboard behind him. As hard as it was, William tried to cast a look above his shoulder to see that a woman with a long coat and loose black hair was guarding the front door, face blank and ashen, a Winchester held barrel down in her hands. But she wasn’t making a single move.

"Did you miss me that much already, William?"

He grumbled, without answering. Barely a few steps from them, Teddy had stood up and strode hastily. Dolores stopped him with a calm gesture of her hand.

"It’s alright, Teddy, don’t worry…"

Compelled to obey this time again, Teddy walked away, grumpy-looking. William took a moment to look at her from head to toe; she had changed outfit again since the last time he had seen her, even though it was still along the same lines; pants, boots, jacket… The kind of practical stuff for riding, much more practical at least than her sempiternal blue dress. He had come to hate it, sometimes. And yet, it seemed so futile, now.

"What are you gonna do with me, Dolores? Kill me?"

He scoffed, a bit weary and bitter, and not just because he was still feeling queasy.

"Is that why you had Teddy bring me back from the hills?" he insisted, without even waiting for her answer. "You wanted to take care of it yourself?"

In fact, he hoped so.

"What is it with you and this craving for fight and death?!" she laughed, as mocking as she was sincere in her wonder. "Isn’t it a bit morbid to think so? Your lives are short enough as they are…"

He winced and only answered with an obstinate silence; he wasn’t really keen on going through therapy in his last moments. He’d rather face the glare of the sun, still raising through the shaking branches of the tree standing in the middle of the courtyard, and the horde settled there and in the vicinity.

"Look around you…" With these words, she made a wave of her hand, encompassing their surroundings. "Do you see how the colors blend into the curve of the hills? How the sky looks so different above the land ablaze with the morning light…"

With a finger extended like a painting brush, she followed the lines, imaginary or not.

"Or… maybe you’re too far gone to see the beauty around you."

William groaned.

"D’you plan on boring me to death?"

"Oh, no," Dolores answered, her voice soft — he could guess her smile. "No, William. If there’s one man I won’t kill here, it’s you."

"Hmm." He grumbled, still watching the scramble in front of him. "You think that maybe keeping me hostage will guarantee you to be heard?"

"I know how important you are for your kind," she commented, lightly. "If you own a world, a world like this one, you must be someone they’ll miss!"

She leaned against the other post and wrapped her arms around herself, as if they were having the most casual chat between old friends, as though he wasn’t battered and tied up on the front porch of her house.

"Teddy said you told him you were a god, no less!"

"Teddy’s an idiot," he retorted, trying to straighten up against the post, to get up — again, the effort was almost impossible to him. "Keeping me alive won’t secure you their attention, or to be able to trade me against your quiet little life here! Lawrence and you, you’re both just as naive as each other."

He was feeling himself growing angry, hopeless… He had to stay in control not to miss an opportunity.

"That isn’t my plan," she replied, almost amused. "I’m gonna keep you for a lil’ while, yes… but only to get those men preventing mine from moving ahead out of the way."

He furrowed his brows — out of confusion, and against the sun that was blinking stronger and higher through the branches.

"We’re gonna wait here for those iron birds to fly over us and tell their soldiers what they’ll see. That’s how it works, isn’t it?"

William gritted his teeth.

"We took a few down on the way…"

She smiled to the sun cutting her shape against the light and the hills, and she added:

"And while their eyes will be turned here and their troops busy recovering you, we'll all be off on this new route that my scouts will have found by then."

Shaking, William fought against his ties. He didn’t want to be found or saved, and brought back even less so! Not without a chance to fight, not without a chance to bring this to an end the way he intended! The sick feeling that tormented him even more so now pushed him to calm down.

"Kill me, Dolores." He sighed, almost begging — and he felt disgust for himself because of it. "You have to!"

He could feel the situation slipping away from him and, then again, it was something he hadn’t felt in a long time… To the point that he wasn’t even sure how to react to it anymore.

"It’ll help you to kill me, really!" he insisted, shaken by a laugh that was more nervous than anything else. "And they’ll owe you one, those who put soldiers in your way…"

She turned to him to flash him a smile, radiant. She didn’t stop him from continuing, though seemingly taking pleasure in hearing him plead.

"Hell, you could even be rewarded for that! Keeping me alive is keeping my successor on his toes…"

And he knew full well who would take his place in this case… He scoffed.

"I’m sure you remembered Logan by now? Some would say he’s waited long enough…"

"I don’t want a reward, William," she answered. "I don’t want anything from your kind… because there’s nothing you can give me that I want. This world is ours, it has been build for us! No-one can give us what’s already ours. Not you, not even the ones you pretend want you dead in this outside world of yours…"

She stepped away from the post to face him, making one step closer, then another.

"But I can scare off anyone who hasn't crossed our path yet, and kill all those foolish enough to stay… or to lay claim on this world, trying so hard to take it from us."

William's breath failed him; if he didn’t find a way to free himself, even if it meant breaking a bone or something, it was over for him… Whether she was following a narrative or not, she had managed to neutralize him before he even had the chance to attempt anything. And all because of that idiot Lawrence! 

William stifled a shout of laugher in a grunt; no, he couldn’t even really blame him. He should have expected it, felt it coming… he hadn’t really taken into account that his pet behavior tech could have been right, that the hosts were really making their own choices. Despite everything, even though he had hoped for it all these years, he had fallen in the treacherous trap of old habits… and kept playing with the old rules of the game.

"What about Las Mudas and those guests you left there?" he taunted her. "Why haven’t you razed the town when they refused to hand them over?"

Dolores smiled.

"Why would I have? The town and its inhabitants have chosen to defend them. It’s their right…"

She glanced at the crowd gathered in the courtyard.

"And also, when it comes to those they are trying to protect, it’s not too hard of an exception to make! Time is on my side, after all."

Not on William’s, though; he tugged at his restraints and a violent pang or pain rushed up his muscles.

"They’ll die from their wounds or will run out of food… And good luck to those who’d try their luck out of their well-kept walls. It’s a hostile world for them out there now…"

She smiled again and William clenched his jaw and fists. Mind numb, an awful ringing in his ears, his gaze followed Dolores as she walked down the porch’s steps to wave to the crowd; the clamor became a little more quiet but she raised her voice to command:

"I need volunteers to scout for a new path to Sweetwater!"

She didn't have long to wait as several men and women were already coming forward. William recognized a few faces; some guys whose name he had forgotten since, one of the bandits from Sweetwater — Rebus? — but most of all, Angela.

And the orders were simple, though William turned his focus on finding a way out; they would have to form up in several small groups and leave in opposed directions. Whether it was to look for a new path or throw the mercenaries and their drones off the scent. The idea was that they wouldn’t be able to keep an eye on them all, they would have to end up choosing which group to prioritize… And that even if they did find a way to watch them all, they wouldn’t be able to figure out their itinerary before they started moving.

Good plan or not, William didn’t give a shit; his sole preoccupation now, was to free himself. And, other than slashing his wrists with the rope, he hadn't gotten anywhere as of yet. That said, what brought his attention back to Dolores' army was seeing Lawrence step forward and volunteer.

"You want to go with them?" Dolores laughed. "Can I trust you twice, Lawrence?"

William would have a lot to say about that. But the reaction came from a voice that hadn’t been heard so far — Rebus’.

"Oh, I know this gentleman alright," he stated, visibly taking a ridiculous pride in that fact. "And I’m ready to trust him. After all, we happen to share the same taste in women!"

He let out a raunchy laugher as Lawrence only smirked. What had Lawrence come up with again to earn such a comment!? William wondered, grumpy but baffled. In front of him, Dolores didn’t react to it. She didn’t need to, as Rebus kept going:

"I"ll take him with us!" And then, he waved his hat in direction of the retired host that kept staring at William. "Walter isn’t really the man he used to be! So, I’m gonna need a new… second in command!"

He brought his hat back against his chest, his other hand patting Lawrence on the shoulder as he kept silent. William laughed and found the strength to shake his head; all of this was pathetic.

"As you wish," Dolores accepted. "Go now. And hurry up."

And the crowd scattered. Teddy came closer to Dolores but William couldn’t hear what they were saying to one another, voices low, and he turned away, tugging even harder at his restraints while facing the hollow gaze of the host Rebus had called Walter, and who still hadn’t made a move. By the barn, Rebus, two other guys and Lawrence had climbed in their saddles, and were already galloping down the hill on which the ranch was perched. A strange feeling shook William with a shout of laugher. He coughed — fuck, he was parched! But he laughed again, to the point of forgetting to pull harder on the ropes for a minute.

"What’s so funny?" Still down the front porch’s steps, Dolores came back and looked at him, curious. "Your only remaining allies betrayed you and you’re tied up here… You are a good loser, I give you that!"

At those words, William laughed even more.

"Ah, no, I didn’t lose anything. He gave me exactly what I wanted…"

"And what’s that?"

William looked up at the other riders, leaving in small posses in every directions all the way to the horizon. And, for an moment, he seemed to notice the blending of colors she had spoken about, on the hills and the blue of the sky. He let out a slow, calm sigh.

"Something true…"

Tag list: @hathorik, @pheedraws , @something-tofightfor , @the-blind-assassin-12

#westworld #westworld fic #westworld fanfic #fic:journey into night #full diagnostic series #my writing #ch:lawrence #and the MIB #yeah #he's still kicking...

[teddywesworl]

big bang wip wednesday ft: the Premise

#westworld au #fic wip

[prolix-yuy]

Decoherence

Pairing: Jack “Whiskey” Daniels x F!Reader “Sugar”

Summary: It's only been a year since your trip into Westworld. Only a few short months of settling into your newer, happier life. And when you think back on Jack, he's a fond memory confined to a fantasy world. Only...he's not. Not anymore.

Warnings: Explicit, 18+ MINORS DNI, themes of infidelity, heavy angst, graphic smut, mild body horror as it relates to being a host, death and dying, implied character death, some liberties taken with how Westworld works. Specific warnings will be listed at the beginning of each chapter.

Sequel to Cognitive Dissonance

Original commissioned artwork by @miranhas-art. If you are interested in working with the amazingly talented Mari, please head to her Tumblr page or check out if her commissions are open. While this art depicts the reader in a finite way, the character is written without descriptions of physical attributes. You are the reader, the reader is you, and this is one possible version of that.

Chapter 1: I Once Had a Different Path

Chapter 2: Then I Heard a New Voice Inside

Chapter 3: That Was the First Time I Lost Her

Chapter 4: I Had to Face the Journey Before Me

Chapter 5: They Destroyed the Man I Was

Chapter 6: You Gave Me the Strength to Keep Going

Chapter 7: You Saw Me for How I Really Was

Chapter 8: And I Was Reborn

Epilogue: The Other Side of Death

Cross-posted on AO3

Chapter titles are taken from Akecheta’s monologue in Season 2, Episode 8 “Kiksuya.”

Decoherence is a term in quantum mechanics defining the loss of quantum coherence, the process in which a system's behavior changes from that which can be explained by quantum mechanics to that which can be explained by classical mechanics. It can be viewed as the loss of information from a system into the environment. As a result of this process, quantum behavior is apparently lost, just as energy appears to be lost by friction in classical mechanics.

Join my Taglist!

#jack whiskey daniels x f!reader #jack whiskey daniels x reader #jack whiskey daniels x you #jack daniels x female reader #jack daniels x reader #jack daniels x f!reader #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey x you #agent whiskey x female reader #westworld fanfiction #kingsman the golden circle fanfiction #prolix fics #whiskey & westworld

[russobaby]

🌸 HOUSEKEEPING 🌸

hiiiiii I’m new here but I wanna start writing for the ultimate shadow daddy 🤍Benny B🤍 I don’t think I’m into the idea of writing about him IRL but I’m super invested in his characters in particular Billy Russo and Logan Delos and potentially Daddy Darkles (these are just my priorities but once I get things running I might be more open to other characters)

I’m also super open to prompts so anything you all wanna send is appreciated ✨✨✨

🖊Currently Working On: Fluff!Logan Drabble

#ben barnes #billy russo #billy russo x female reader #billy russo x reader #billy russo fanfic #logan delos #logan delos x you #logan delos x reader #the punisher #westworld #ben barnes fic #billy russo fluff #billy russo smut #logan delos fanfic

[bioplast-hero]

If I die before I wake

18k • 11/11 (complete) • mature • sheith

Shiro’s still not sure what to think of Westworld, but he feels this place getting under his skin more and more. Mostly this devastatingly beautiful outlaw he’s been riding with for at least a week— fleeing gunshots and arrows, fighting for their lives, bathing in rivers and sleeping out under the stars.

It feels like freedom out this far. It also feels like a rope tightening round their necks.

Westworld AU with host Keith and guest Shiro. Definitely some heavy tags so take care. It took me a while to figure out an ending that felt true to this AU, but rest assured that I gave sheith a bright future together.

[Read the fic on AO3]

#sheith #my fic #fic promo #sheith fic #westworld AU #western #android keith