#I’m still rotating my own thoughts around on this post

[jamiesfootball]

@thetarttfuldickhead

Jamie just really likes Sam’s shoulders 

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

All In 12

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, power imbalance, low self esteem, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: you meet a mysterious man on a night out with your sister. (petite!reader)

based on the winning option for this poll

Characters: casino owner!Bucky Barnes

Note: I'm tryna rotate as much as possible.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Her name is Margot. She’s talkative but kind. She guides you through everything with patience. Tells you when to close your eyes and look up, how to hold your head, when to pucker your lips. She even explains exactly what she’s doing and why she’s doing it. Despite her demeanour, you still feel utterly stupid. Rather, you feel inadequate. 

Another woman shows up shortly after, as a brush traces the line of your cheek. She introduces herself as Darla, she has a whole rack of dresses lined up for you. Another inward cringe threatens to compress your lungs. 

As Darla presents you with options, you find it hard to breathe. It’s all so overwhelming, especially as a third woman, Erica, appears to do your hair, and a fourth, Nia, to tend to your nails. You could faint as you’re pushed, pulled, and prodded from all sides. 

“I like the red,” Margot suggests as you hem and haw.  

The dresses are all nice but you don’t even know what you’re picking it for. Honestly, none of them suit you. Too much skin for your liking. Not that that stays much; your comfort is jeans and baggy tees.  

Erika hums, “what about the teal, lovey? I do think you’d look marvelous with those cutouts.” 

“Yes, it is a pretty colour. You have the complexion for it,” Darla remarks. 

They’re all so nice but there’s something pitying in their voices. You feel like a child. You don’t belong here. You especially don’t belong with Bucky, apparently, he knows that too. Why else would he have these women plucking and picking at you? 

Margot finishes and brings you a mirror. As you see yourself, you blanch. It’s not bad. In fact, she’s done better than you could ever manage but you don’t look like yourself. You don’t feel like yourself. If he wants you to be someone else, you don’t think you can do that. 

You feel yourself shrinking. Your shoulders slump and you wilt, stuttering but unable to say a word. Margot touches your shoulder. 

“What is it? Hon, have I done something wrong?” 

“No, no,” you croak and bring your hands to your throat, “it’s nice. Really nice but... I need some air.” 

“Of course, Darl, Nia,” she shoos away the stylist pinning your hair, “let her up.” 

The women back off and the fourth watches you from the rack, still holding a sparkly black get-up. You search the room and swiftly head for the door. You let yourself into the hall, fanning yourself with your half-done acrylics. You’re happy at least they aren’t long. 

You pace back and forth, watching your feet pass over the pattern of the hotel carpet. You can run. You could just leave right now. The thought only makes your stomach hurt. No, you can’t. Not after he’s gone to all this trouble. You’d hate to seem ungrateful. 

You continue your incessant laps back and forth outside the door. You hear footfalls from around the corner and pause. You should go back in before someone sees you. You grab the handle. Shoot, it’s locked. You wiggle it as a shadow appears at the end of the hall. You gulp and peer down. 

It’s him. You lean on the door and face Bucky. He wears a dark blue jacket over a black shirt and black pants. There’s patterning sewn into his jacket, subtle spirals all around. His dark hair his combed back to the ends flip out behind his ears and his dark beard glints with silver strands, a patch more obvious on his chin. He’s strikingly handsome. So much so, you can’t understand why you’re there. 

His brows form a vee as he nears and he tilts his head, a tick in his cheek, “what’s going on, doll?” 

“Um, just... locked out,” you turn the handle again to emphasize your point. 

“No, what’s....” he looks at you and gestures up and down with his hand, “no, this won’t do.” 

You blink and pout. After all that and you’re not good enough. He raps on the door with his knuckles and there’s some scuffing from inside before Margot opens it. She steps back to let you in and greets Bucky by name. 

“This isn’t what I wanted,” he urges you ahead of him, his hand firmly around your arm, “it’s too much. She doesn’t need all this. I told you, just a little enhancement. I don’t want her looking like a Barbie.” 

“Sorry, sir, it’s... standard.” 

“Doll,” he stops you with him as he plants himself near the racks of dresses. The women watch him anxiously. “What do you think? The make up; you like it?” 

You peer around and stare at Margot. She worked so hard and it isn’t that it’s bad work. She made you look gorgeous but you just don’t like all the layers. You slant your mouth one way then the other. 

“Be honest,” he insists. 

“I... It’s pretty but a bit... heavy?” You eke out. 

“I agree,” he lets you go, “I appreciate the hard work, Marg, but I want to see her natural beauty shining. And these dresses...” he turns, “these aren’t right. I said light. I said... Mm, no. Doll, what’s your favourite colour?” 

He faces you as you stand in shock. You feel horrible that he’s reproaching them like this. They’ve done all this for you and he’s just going down a list of everything wrong. 

“Erm, purple, I guess but--” 

“Darla, get her something purple. Lavender? Lilac?” He looks at you for confirmation and you just nod. You won’t correct him. “Erica, finish her hair, something a bit less... stuffy. Margot, clean her face up. Nia, the nails are looking good.” He turns to you and takes you by the shoulders, “and you, all you gotta do is be your cute little self, alright?” 

You gulp and nod. You don’t know what to say. He saves you from a response as he brings his hand up under your chin. He leans in to kiss you and your cheeks flame at the awareness of your audience. He pulls back and caresses your cheek before parts completely. 

He checks his watch, “don’t got all night.” 

He marches off, leaving you dumbfounded. He’s like a hurricane, coming in and blowing everything out of sorts. You look around guiltily. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be,” Margot assures with a smile, “come, let’s get you fixed up, dahling.” 

She beckons you over and sits you back down. You give your hand back to Nia to finish the manicure as Erica once more goes to work on your hair. You stare at the wall and let out a nervous sigh. 

“That’s cute,” Margot says, “the way he looks at you.” 

“Hm, yeah,” Erica agrees, “he definitely has the eyes for ya.” 

You close your eyes as Margot gently wipes away the make up with a cool cloth from a package. You shrug, trying not to move too much, “he’s nice. He... did all this. Just for me. I... I didn’t ask for it. I’m sorry he didn’t like it.” 

“No, baby,” Nia says, “this isn’t about us. It’s about you. What do you like?” 

You open your eyes again and frown. That’s a good question. You lower your gaze to your lap and exhale heavily. 

“I’m figuring it out,” you murmur, “I don’t... I don’t get out much.” 

“Oh, this must be so exciting for you,” Erica trills, “oh, how fun.” 

“I’m sure you’ll have a wonderful time,” Nia adds, “don’t be nervous. Just enjoy yourself.” 

“Can’t be that hard,” Margot clucks, “on a handsome man’s arm, pretty as a bow,” she cleans her brushes as she talks, “it’ll be a great night. I’m thinking...” she peruses her chest of makeup, “natural tones. A dewy look. Natural, subtle.” 

“Okay, uh, yeah,” you agree, “that sounds nice.” 

“Hmmph,” Erica hums, “she’s a sweetie, isn’t she, ladies?” 

“Nicer than the last one,” Nia cackles. 

You stiffen and shift in the chair. You look at the nail tech then Margot as she compares a tube to your face and shakes her head. You push your lip against your teeth and let it flick out. 

“Last one?” You whisper. 

The women share a look and smile, “well, Mr. Barnes is notorious. Surely, you know.” 

“Oh,” you think of the headlines you scrolled through online, “well, yes, I know. I guess... I didn’t catch what you meant.” 

“Enjoy it. I’m sure you’ll get a few pretty baubles out of it,” Nia says, “and some memories to long for when you’re old like us.” 

“Old,” Margot scoffs, “speak for yourself.” 

“Yeah, yeah, of course. I know. I’m just... another girl.” 

“Oh, dahling,” Margot intones, “but he seems really fond of you, doesn’t he? Maybe he’ll keep ya around a bit longer, eh?” 

You just sit there. You knew better than to believe it was anything but the obvious but it’s still a hard pill to swallow. You stare blindly ahead as Margot remoisturizes your skin. 

“Didn’t mean to upset you,” Margot says. 

“I’m not, I just...” you swallow, “I’m nervous.” 

“Mm, nervous? Well, I think that’s what the bar is for. Erica, fetch some of that rose. She needs a glass, Stat.” 

Your mouth opens to protest but you think better of it. You’ve already caused them enough trouble. You thank them instead and try not to let your shame burn through. They know why you’re there and they’ve left no doubt in you of the same. 

“Make sure to pour me some too,” Margot chirps. 

🃏

You stop after one glass. It makes your inside bubbly and eases the tension just enough that you’re not jittering. You feel better but still not certain. 

The women confirm your fears. This isn’t going to last. It’s not like you didn’t expect as much but hearing it is all the more real. You’re going to have to come up with yet another lie to tell. This one will hurt the most because it will be at least halfway true; you’re still a loser. 

You’ll try to take their advice. You’ll enjoy this night; this once in a lifetime experience. You don’t think you’ll ever be in a casino again in your life. They’re not for you. All of this is just above you. It’s better suited to someone like your sister. You can’t help but wonder why it isn’t Roxie here. 

The clock ticks. Well, not truly. The digital numbers count down the minutes as you linger in the suite alone. The gaggle of women left only a few minutes ago but not without a promise that you’re happy. You are, at least with all they did for you. 

You approach the mirror, almost shying away from your own reflection. You look nice. You might even call yourself pretty. Your eyes look more brilliant with the subtle lining and the precisely coated lashes; not too heavy. And your lips, shiny but natural, your cheeks dewy with a hint of colour to them.  

And the dress. Lavender satin with crystals embedded in the fabric, lines of smaller ones interconnecting the larger stones. You turn and check your figure. You look grown up. It’s ridiculous to think but you do. The heels help, not too high but enough to define your legs. 

You turn and tear your gaze away from the mirror. You don’t want to be vain. Besides, you probably don’t look that good. You just look better than usual. The comparison is enough to skew your perception. 

As you teeter on the heels, waiting, for what, you don’t exactly know. You can surmise what it will all lead to. What he intends. You can’t deny it any longer. A man doesn’t do all this for altruistic mean and even you aren’t that pitiful. Well, you hope not. 

A knock at the door trips you up. Your heart lurches. You’re not ready. But it’s getting late and you know it’s inevitable. You can’t move or speak. You just stare towards the door. 

You hear it open. You blink a Bucky’s shadow appears on the carpet and he strides into your sight. Your eyes meet his and his blue irises sparkle as he sees you. He stops and put his hand to his chest. His forehead lines and he bites his lip. 

“Wow, doll,” he rasps breathily and slowly steps forward, “you look...” 

You press your hands to your sides and give a toothy expression, not quite a smile, not quite a grimace. Sweat speckles along your neck as his gaze bores into you. You’re even more self-conscious as he closes in. 

“I don’t know,” you murmur. 

“What don’t you know?” He asks as he reaches for you and takes your hand. He draws you near, “huh? Look at you, doll.” He purrs, “you look spectacular.” His other hand grazes down your side and he squeezes your hip as he holds you at arm’s length and ogles you, “mm, damn. You wanna know what I know?” 

You peer up at him from beneath your lashes, “what?” 

“That you are the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen. I’m a lucky man to have you walking the floor with me tonight,” he drops your hand and frames your other hip, drawing you to him, “I have half a mind to keep you up in this room.” 

You choke. Your lower lip trembles and you shake your head, “that’s nice but...” you look away. 

“But? You don’t believe me, doll? You think I’d lie?” He challenges. 

“N-no, I didn’t say—but--- before---” you sputter and put your hands on his forearms, “there were others and they were prettier.” 

“Doll, don’t worry about before. This is now. You aren’t them and I’m telling you, you are beautiful,” he trails his hand up and nudges your chin. You look at him again, your cheeks shaking as you try to smile. “Here.” 

He takes your hand, his eyes clinging to yours as he watches you. You can’t look away. Not this time. He leads your hand up his jacket and slips it beneath. He presses it to his chest. You feel the taut muscle beneath and something else. 

“You got my heart racing, doll,” he growls. “That ain’t a lie.” 

[soft-girl-musings]

Perks of Being a Wallflower

Jake Lockley x plus size fem!Reader

cross-posted to ao3

tags: rated T for thirsty jake, author does not dance but saw it on the tv once (i'm mostly kidding), mustachioed jake jumpscare (tagging for the haters), no use of Y/N

wc: 1.9k

fic summary: For Jake, a night on the town means sticking to the background, listening for signs of trouble. That all changes when he sees you at the dance hall.

A/N: still on the jake train and I am making it everyone's problem. just wanted to preface by saying, as a curvy girlie, i recognize that plus size folk are not a monolith. so everything in this fic is based on my own experience, etc. enjoy!

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Jake likes to keep his intel hotspots in rotation. 

Mondays and Wednesdays he'll head to the diner after a day in the cab, refueling and checking in with his network.

Tuesdays and Thursdays he'll hit the bars. Weekends are mostly for driving.

But Fridays? Fridays are for dancing.

Jake's guilty pleasure is scoping out the dance hall. The clubs have their appeal, but there's something timeless about the hole in the wall he’d discovered a while back. Nothing special, just a cozy ballroom with a bar, tables lifted on a platform framing ¾ of the room and turning the dance floor into an inverse stage.

Tonight he nurses a beer in the corner, listening to a couple of seedy characters describe some suspicious activity at a warehouse he'd been tailing. But he hasn't caught much of their conversation. Truth be told, he's a bit distracted tonight.

Because of you.

He'd seen you come in with four other people, two couples by the look of it. He'd been immediately taken by you: while some patrons came to dance in jeans and t-shirts, you'd dressed to impress. He'd shamelessly raked his eyes over your form, generous curves hugged by the bodice of your dress that trailed down over your ample hips. You walked with a timid sway, the movement inevitable even as you drew your arms about yourself, settling into your seat with care at a table clear across the room from him.

As much as he's tried to fight it, his attention always drifts back to you: poised and pretty, eyes scanning the room as one couple, then another leaves you for the Latin-dance-of-the-week group lesson hosted like clockwork every Friday. The instructor drones on, but Jake is zeroed in on you: all softness and warmth, criminally tucked away from the rest of the fun.

The warehouse can wait.

__________

You don’t consider yourself the kind of girl someone crosses the room for.

That’s probably why you don’t notice the determined stranger making his way across the crowded dance floor, eyes trained on you as he adjusts his cap with a smirk.

You’re taking another sip of your overpriced cocktail when you hear an unfamiliar voice below you.

“Not a fan of the rumba?”

You finally register the man standing by the corner of your table. He’s handsome, you have to admit, his dark features highlighting kind brown eyes, creased from his almost too-eager smile. When you realize he’s talking to you, your words are still slow to come out.

But he doesn’t miss a beat. “It’s the mustache, isn’t it?” He grins sheepishly, dragging a palm across his lower face. “Knew it’d skeeve some people out, but I thought I’d give it a go.”

“No,” you say too quickly for your own liking, “It’s, ah– nice. Suits you.”

You’re met with a cheeky grin as he steps closer, eyes half-lidded as he leans in. “I’m Jake. Nice to meet a friendly face.”

You eye him warily, wondering what his angle could be. A quick glance around the room confirms there’s only so many unattached women surrounding the dance floor. You sigh internally. The game is always the same: keep them entertained until the girls they really want to talk to come back from the bar, or the bathroom, or stray just far enough from the guys they arrived with.

Might as well play along. 

Settling back into your seat, you tell him your name. His grin widens as he echoes it with something bordering reverence, and you bite your cheek to keep from smiling too wide.

Jake props one elbow on the table, looking up at you. Seems like he’s not going anywhere for a while.

“I gotta know– you not a fan of the rumba?”  He asks again, staring up at you dreamily. You don't catch it, your eyes flitting between him and the dance floor. The lesson is over, and couples spread out to dance independently.

“Hm? Oh, um– it’s alright,” you say with a shrug, arms wrapping around your middle again. “Just not a dancing night for me.” 

Truth be told, it’s been ages since anyone’s invited you to dance. You’ve contented yourself with watching, although something deep inside aches for someone to ask you to–

"Dance with me."

You raise an eyebrow, struck by his bluntness. "I'm sorry?"

He leans in, both arms now resting on the table. "Dance with me, doll." His grin widens as he drinks you in. Your cheeks heat under his gaze, and you almost believe the admiration behind his eyes.

You press your lips together and look back to the crowd. "No thanks."

"I promise I don't bite," he teases, baring his teeth for effect. The slight gap in his smile catches your eye and you look away again. He's definitely a charmer.

"I…" you trail off, searching for an excuse but find you're hesitant to give it. 

Your self-sabotaging streak wins out. "Sorry, I have to keep the table for my friends." You nod toward the couples you came with, each person settled in the arms of their partner as they stumble through the rumba on their own. Your frown deepens; it does look fun.

Jake hums and props his head on one hand. "Don't tell me you only tagged along to watch their purses? Not the best of friends," he adds, critique mixed with sympathy.

You almost tell him that this wasn't the plan, you were meant to have a date tonight. A date who suddenly couldn't make it once your friend had caved and sent him a picture of you– a snapshot you'd both hoped wouldn't "fatfish" but was flattering enough to entice him to commit. Clearly he didn't.

You consider telling him everything, so lost in thought you don't realize he's been saying your name. He calls you once more, and you snap back to the present, tearing your eyes away from the dance floor.

"Sorry, what was that?"

As you speak, Jake walks around the table until he's closer to your side. He holds out his hand.

"C'mon, one dance." He asks again, angling his head to catch your eye. "Please?"

The last of your resolve absolutely crumbles at the way his voice softens with every word. As if you have something he wants. As if you could reject him and make it sting. 

Oh, what the hell.

"...Alright. One dance." 

You didn't think he could smile any wider, but he does– tossing his cap onto the table and trailing a hand through his thick black curls, he's all crow's feet and smile lines as you accept his hand.

Jake weaves between dancing pairs with you in tow, until you reach the middle of the floor. Your eyes dart around at the couples surrounding you, but a gentle touch under your chin brings your attention back to him.

"Just focus on me, yeah?" His voice is still soft, keeping you grounded in the eye of the busy dance floor. You nod, letting out a shaky breath.

"Right, so–" Jake clasps your right hand and raises it to chin level. He moves your left hand to cradle his shoulder, and places his right hand on your shoulder blade. It takes everything in him not to squeeze the flesh under his palm; you're just as warm and soft as he'd thought you'd be.

He talks you through the basics, how to time your steps and the flow of each movement. Every so often, he’ll lift your chin again, since you keep looking at your feet to keep up.

You catch on quicker than you’d expected. Even though your cheeks are blazing, you feel yourself loosen up– your body relaxing, your hips swaying a bit more freely. 

Jake can tell: he’s never short of praise and encouragement, and has to remember his own advice to stop himself from watching your hips the whole time.

"Alright," he warns, "here's something a little tricky-"

As soon as you feel his hand flex, you know what to do. You step out and deftly spin under his arm, hips swaying with a cheeky flourish for effect.

Jake barks a laugh of surprise, arms settling back into place as you complete the step.

You let yourself crack a smile. “You third wheel enough of these dance lessons, you’re bound to pick some things up.”

“No kidding,” he affirms, resuming an easy rhythm for you both. You’d think he was born with that grin on his face, the way it hasn’t faltered since he introduced himself.

One song bleeds into another, but neither of you notice. Instead, you draw closer together, your frame more relaxed and your heart racing. With every beat, you fight back the budding intoxication of the moment. Because this can't be real; this can't be something that lasts. No matter how many praises he showers, winks he offers, or lingering brushes against your hips, shoulders, seemingly anywhere he can touch you, you know you won't be hearing from Jake once you leave this dance floor. That's how this always goes down.

The song ends and you both slow to a stop. Slightly breathless, your hands trail up to Jake’s shoulders, thumbs tracing the fabric there as you work up the courage to ask one last question.

"So… is this the part where you go back to your friends and tally up who got the big girl to believe you were interested?"

Jake's brows knit together, his hands pressed to your shoulder blades to hold you steady. "I don't-"

"Oh please, you don't have to pretend. I survived high school, I can take it." You smirk, worrying your lip to keep your disappointment at bay. This was a nice fantasy, but you know how this ends.

The band starts to play a slower tune, and his eyes meet yours. In a flash of flexed arms and footwork, you’re suddenly looking up at him, body tilted back as he dips you. A cheeky grin is plastered on his flushed features.

"Doll, you misunderstand." He draws you back up, bringing you cheek to cheek as the stubble of his warm face scratches your skin. He continues, voice low and close to your ear:

"We're dancin' because it'd be criminal to leave such a pretty wallflower unplucked all night." He starts to sway in time to the music, still holding you. An invitation to stay, to do this all again.

You lean back; his rapt attention is trained on you like before, the warmth in his brown eyes seeping into your cheeks. Your face blossoms into the widest smile, your soft angles catching the light and making you look downright radiant. 

"That's… so corny." And you laugh, a rich, uninhibited sound pouring from your lips until tears nearly spill down your cheeks. 

Jake takes it all in– the vision that you are. His hand trails down to the softness at the small of your back. The way you quake from laughter sends a thrill up his spine, and he chuckles in turn. If he wasn’t holding you, he swears he’d be a little weak in the knees.

You rest your forehead against his shoulder as you calm down. “What’s one more dance?” You breathe, letting yourself move in time with the music.

Jake bites his lip and nods, taking your hand again. “Thought you’d never ask, doll.”

With a flick of the wrist he spins you out, eliciting another laugh from you as he pulls you back in.

The warehouse can definitely wait: his night's going to be spent drawing that sweet sound from your lips as long as you'll let him.

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A/N: when I say "brainrot," i mean i couldn't sleep until i set this gd thing to publish (don't ask me what time)

huge shoutout to @hon3yboy @chrissymodi-frost and @mrsnadeem for letting me ramble in your DMs about dancer!Jake, all my love my darlings <3

addtl tag list: @lunar-ghoulie @shadystarlightgentlemen @casa-boiardi

tysm for reading!

[femoso-seben]

Immortal Shenanigans

Task force 141 x immortal Freader

pt. 1, pt. 2, pt. 3

TW: Gore, implied gore, violence, blood, Torture

Well, shit.

Like a sardine in salt, you could not slip out of this. You weren’t killed no simply knocked out. You awoke chained up and sore. You look over to see a group of armed men watching you. You realize what your fate has in tale for you, and you feel your lips twitch into a smile.

How fun.

The task force slowly explored the large warehouse. The smell of blood was strong. Blood coated the ground, so much blood. This was a killing place. The men turn to each other with a grim expression.

“HAHAHAHA!” They froze and slowly began to inch their eye to the noise. Peer around the corner and witness a violent scene.

There that mysterious girl, YN was chained down her leg and being sawed off. Blood pooled on the ground and all over the frazzled men. They kept trying to kill her, yet she kept coming back.

“Is that all you got?” You tilt your head laughing. It was incredibly painful but this was the funniest thing to you, as funny as being burned alive by witch hunters.

“Shut bitch!” One yes shooting her in the eye. You slightly fall forward pain disappearing before waking up in pain. How many rotations have you gone through? Maybe 10? Were you killed 10 times?

That’s fun.

“Hey, how long are we gonna do this, I’m bored.” You finally ask smile dropping as you gaze into the eyes of your supposed killer. He glared at you and hit you in the face.

“You punch like a bitch,” you grumble the chair falls down. Blood soaks down your arms and you rip your arms out of the demonic hold of the restraint. You slip your hands out and silently wait for them to set you up.

“Tell me how you know them!” The terrorist bellows hitting your neck with a machete.

“Bro, are you trying to get baptized in my blood? Because Jesus Christ will accept you—“You were hit hard in the sternum by a foot. They had these hateful gazes burning into your soul. You snicker and begin to laugh, religious people are so funny.

Someone prop you back up. You twist your body grab their gun from them and begin to shoot them. They shot back riddling your body with bullets. So much blood oozed out of the wounds. All of them fall dead and you untie your foot with the machete.

“Damn, what a moment.” You groan stretching your body out. You pick up your sawed-off leg and begin to reattach it to your body. You look around, there is so much blood on the floor. Like a perfect mirror.

You whistle and pull your phone from one of the dead terrorists. You took a selfie covered in blood sounded by your blood. You're so tempted to post this saying photo shoot. You chuckle and walk through your own blood.

“What the hell!” You look up to see those four again. You give them a peace sign and a large smile.

“Hey boys,” you call out walking up to them giggling.

“Is all this blood yours?”

“Who else?” You asked back like it’s obvious. It was there was no other dead body here.

“Why is there so much blood?”

“I have a lot of blood,” you shrug.

“Why the fuck were you laughing,” the mustache man ask… you really have to ask them for names.

“What’s your name?”

“Price, this is Gaz, Soap, and Ghost.”

“Dumb but ok.”

“Why were you laughing?” Ghost asks.

“Look at it from my perspective, that’s shits funny.”

“You were being tortured.”

“Nothing more painful than being set on fire.” You retort like it was obvious.

“You have been set on fire?”

“Soap, I was around during the witch trials in Europe. I was burned alive several times,” you nod your head with a smile.

“Why were you being tortured?” Price asked arms folded.

“They thought I was with you, not the fact I’m a very nosy archeologist who was following after my pots!”

“What is with you and pots? Is this a sexual thing?” Gaz asks, you turn to him with a ‘what the fuck,’ look.

“No, I’ve been around for the progress of pot making. To me, pots tell an unspoken human history.” You explain to Gaz who only nods but still looks at you with mild disgust.

“They thought you were with us?” Soap ask.

“Yeah, apparently you guys are being watched…” you state, “Did that box of pots get back to the museum?” You ask.

“Yes. How long have you been here?” Price asks.

“Maybe three hours, what day is it?”

“Friday.”

“Rad I’ve been here for three days,” you laugh and walk off.

“Where are you going?” You stop walking and turn around.

“My Airbnb, why?” You ask turning back to them. What’s with their deal?

“If you’re being targeted, we have to keep you safe,” Price steps forward looking down at you. You sigh and nod understanding their standpoint.

“Let me make a call though my colleagues must think I’m a flake or something. I mean I am, but I don’t ghost people like this.” You laugh and call your archeology buddies.

“What is her deal?” Soap asked looking at you with concern in his eyes.

“I don’t know mate, maybe it’s the price for being immortal?”

“She’s all over the place, manic if you ask me.” Ghost mumbles. The others nod she is manic a little wild, and definitely needs to be on medication.

The task force slowly led the enigma of an immortal with that back to base. How will they explain this to Laswell? They look at her covered in blood and riddled with holes. In her clothes. She looks perfectly fine besides her outer appearance.

“I miss historical violence.” She states breaking the silence.

“What!”

“Yeah like whipping, beheading, hanging, ugh just being tortured brings back some fond memories.”

“Your fucking weird.” Soap states.

“That is true!”

“You’re insane.”

“That is also true!” You adamantly agree with their sentiment.

“Why do you agree with them?” Ghost asks leaning forwards to see your face.

“Because I did lose my mind, being immortal fucks you in the head in a way so unique it makes you crave for something.” The others grew quiet that makes perfect sense.

“Also I’m the worse at getting shit done, if you think you procrastinate I can take decades to do something.” You honestly state.

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“What’s the most insane thing you’ve done?”

“Besides diving off Niagara Falls, I say being a nurse from the American Civil War all the way to the Vietnam War.” The entire truck grew silent. You’ve seen war.

“Really?”

“I dressed up as a guy and became a field medic. I’ve seen a lot of death, I was there in Japan when the atomic bomb dropped.” You state somberly. The truck grew cold as no one wanted to say anything. They’re shocked, you're a veteran, and they didn’t even realize that.

“I was one the first to suggest a special unit to take on harder missions the average soldier couldn’t do. And here you all are,” you smile looking at all of them with a sense of pride. They were your making, indirectly but still yours, just like your living descendants.

“So… you’re a medic?”

“I was a medic not anymore.”

“You’re a veteran?”

“Technically I’m not because I lied when I was a nurse and then a field medic.” You explain to Soap who’s trying to wrap his mind around this new information.

“Oh, also I was in New York when 9/11 happened. That was horrific.” Everyone seemed to hold their breath, Ghost joined because of 9/11, so this was a big shock for him.

“You have a colorful history,” Price mutters breaking the silence with his calm demeanor.

“What can I say, I live long enough to be around when shit goes sideways.”

The truck arrives at this military base and they lead you to HQ from the looks of things. People stop moving and just stare at you, you completely forget you’re covered in your own blood. You’re used to being stared at, always doing dumb things.

“John— on my God!” You look over to see a middle-aged woman stepping backward.

“Laswell, this is the woman who we’ve told you about.”

“The immortal one?”

“Yup.”

“Hello, Laswell.” You turn to her with a warm smile.

------

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@josieguts

[emry-stars-art]

tell us about the royals au!!! (im on my knees. please.)

Ohhhhh my friend you have started me on a RANT I hope you’re ready!!!

I don’t know that I’ll ever actually write it so I’m not too worried about spoilers, and the wonderful people in my dms (which are still open btw) bouncing ideas with me are always going to come up with great ideas so I’m putting WIP in big red letters, things are subject to change! But for now, some ideas. Most of what I have will be under the cut, but if you want to know more about a specific part/have any questions please I’d love to chat :D will link to the art/posts I have so far!

(In this au I’ve been referring to Neil as Nathaniel at first and then Abram (hello names as a plot device), and everyone else right now is some version of their name)

Kevin and Nathaniel were raised at Evermore castle, Kevin to be in direct competition to Riko/see which of them might claim the throne (not thought out yet), and Nathaniel as the Moriyama’s attack dog, born and raised to take his father’s place as such. The two never met in person, but Nathaniel knows and recognizes Day because of course he does, and Day knows the name Wesninski means a very, very dangerous person. Essentially the top assassin on the continent.

But as we do, Day decides he can’t/won’t handle the treatment anymore, whatever the last straw may be, and runs off to Palmetto in a kind of desperate chase of the stories his mother used to tell him when he was little. He knew she loved that kingdom. Somehow he finds Wymack - the twin’s royal advisor - or Wymack finds him, and once Wymack realizes who this kid is and has reason to believe he’s not here on Evermore business, he puts Day’s incredible talent and training as a tactician/commander to work as his pupil.

Meanwhile Nathaniel is still at Evermore, mistreated and learning from his own failures and mistakes until he’s nearly as good as his father at the family business.

I don’t know how long Nathaniel plans it, but he either plays the part for long enough or his skill is so undeniable that when the Moriyamas have plans for the Palmetto Kingdom, they send him and one other accomplished fighter to kill the king. Nathaniel goes quietly and decides he’s not coming back if he can help it.

So instead of killing the young king, Nathaniel’s panic has him turn on his partner at the very last second, stopping them just before they can get to the king. He takes them somewhere far away and does what he does best, leaving no one to report back to the Moriyamas. From then on it’s a waiting game to see how long the family will wait before they send someone after him.

Day’s followed them, and Nathaniel turns around from the body and sees this man he hasn’t seen in years, alive and safe away from Evermore. It’s as elating as it is crushing - because Day heard his partner call him by name, and there is no way Day will ever let a Wesninski walk away alive. Not if he knows what’s good for all of them.

Except Day doesn’t kill him, even when Nathaniel asks him to. (Better Day than Riko, Nathaniel knew that even when they were all stuck at Evermore). Instead, he takes Nathaniel back to the twins/Wymack, gives him a little bread, and they sit until he can pry out an explanation. (See the comic of this first meeting here.)

Day and Nathaniel spend most of their time together because Day refuses to let Nathaniel out of his or Wymack’s sight until he proves not a threat to the royal family, which proves an issue because between Andrew’s rotation of personal guards (he never gets along with them well enough that they stay/aren’t fired) Day is Andrew’s guard, which sometimes means Nathaniel is stuck a lot closer than Day would like. But after a long, long time, Day and Wymack decide Nathaniel was serious about the whole “runaway” thing and isn’t playing spy (maybe there’s some dramatic event/Nathaniel protecting a twin that convinces them or maybe it’s just a lot of little things over time). Andrew, after a rough spat with the latest guard, is again in need of a new one. Finally Day just asks “is there ANYONE you could possibly pretend to get along with that can do the job” and Andrew knows Nathaniel is dangerous he just doesn’t know exactly how or why (but oh he is curious) so maybe he just straight up says. “Wesninski.” And Day has to go “…. Fine.”

So boom. They knew each other superficially before, but now Andrew and Nathaniel are spending most of their time together and miraculously - no arguments. No spats. Day thanks the gods there’s no physical altercations (that’s probably what got the last guard fired so quick). Nathaniel is just a mystery with shady ability to tell the truth and Andrew can’t help his curiosity. Good old fashioned andreil :D

From here the timeline becomes essentially nonexistent, I have no idea when these things happen in relation to each other but so far they’re all things I like and want to include!

1) there’s plenty of games and competitions at Palmetto, we love a good tussle, and Nathaniel usually does quite well - he’s not good at playing fair, but his underhanded methods are not technically illegal and usually he can use his preferred weapon - dagger rather than sword. He does well except for the one time an opponent accidentally says/does something that was constantly said or done to Nathaniel while “training” at Evermore, and he comes back to Andrew and the tent he watched from in the beginning of a panic attack. Andrew doesn’t know anything about Nathaniel’s past at this point, but he knows a panic attack when he sees one. In trying to talk him through it, Andrew realizes that yes Nathaniel is scared of being hurt, but he’s more afraid of hurting others. Nathaniel won’t let Andrew call him by name, he flinches every time Andrew says it. After, Andrew asks what he should call him instead, and Nathaniel finally asks to be called Abram.

2) Balls! Masquerades! Abram doesn’t have many outfits, he wears the regular issued uniform to every event. Andrew will not stand for this. Abram always wears clothes that cover him fully, which is fine, Andrew can work with that. He’s still seen Abram in a tight shirt or two. So he commissions one of the most knowledgeable people in the court (we’re thinking it might be Allison, she’s a noble but she’s great with textiles/embroidery/etc) and gets Abram a new outfit. It still covers him, its still protective material, but it looks better. (Find Abram in a corset here). Andrew handles it totally normal and rational in his head when he sees Abram actually wearing it of course.

3) Day probably assumes for a little while that Andrew and Abram have got a more or less normal guard/charge relationship, even thinking it’s slightly antagonistic considering this is Andrew we’re talking about. (This doesn’t fit the timeline, but here’s a mini comic of one of Day’s misunderstandings hehe)

4) king Aaron! He became king at 18/20/whatever age we decide this universe deems old enough because he is in fact the elder twin here. I imagine their parents have both been dead and gone for at least a few years at this point. Dan is Aaron’s guard and she and Abram hit it off great as coworkers and friends. More on the uncertainty of the twins backstory later. (Drawings of Aaron and his queen Katelyn here!)

5) the angst. The Moriyamas should have heard from the Wesninski boy months ago - something somewhere went wrong. So, naturally, they go to collect their property. If they get away with it, we can imagine how it goes. What I don’t know is if the twins, Day, and Wymack know for sure he was kidnapped or if they have a little nagging in the back of their head that wonders if he’s only run away from the castle or if he’s run back to Evermore with everything he’s learned.

When he’s recovered, Day doesn’t let Andrew too close too often for a while. If Abram forgets where is for even a second too long - waking up from a nightmare, having a flashback - it’s long enough for it to be fatal to whoever might get too close to Abram. It’s already almost proved fatal for Andrew, after Abram played normal so well that Andrew let it slip - he forgot Abram was taken back to Evermore for them to finish making him into a thoughtless weapon, and they’d nearly succeed. He wakes Abram too quickly and ends up extremely lucky Abram recognizes both his voice and the way Andrew didn’t call him ‘Nathaniel’ or ‘Wesninski’. There’s really a huge amount to possibly be covered about this point so I won’t go into detail here - but if you like hurt/comfort you know where to find me 👀

6) the biggest thing we haven’t figured out is Andrew. Either he was kidnapped at a young age and only recovered in his teens, or the elder King Minyard didn’t much care for his second son. Though I’ve always liked the idea of Mr. Minyard being a good man who died shortly before the twins’ birth and their mother just couldn’t handle the grief or knowing that the twins look like him. Anyway a lot of the twins’ issues after both of their parents are dead are the advisors or other people around them that try to take advantage of their youth and inexperience for their own gain, without realizing that both Aaron and Andrew have had to grow up much too fast, each for their own reasons. They can usually see right past the tricks. It’s why they both trust Wymack so much - he’s one of the few adults that are truly there to help them, and not make decisions for them.

Im sure there’s more I missed, but this is long enough as it is lol. People have asked about the Trojans/Jean in this au, and I’d love to include them! My brain’s instinctive response is that Jeremy is some sort of high end noble/royal of a faraway kingdom, and Jean (always last to leave the nest, im so sorry baby) somehow gets over there, but I don’t have an idea of his or anyone else’s roles yet. Renee could even still have a hand in him getting there if we really want.

So I’m still writing snippets and drawing over here lol but i promise I don’t bite if you want to talk :D

[whumpy-wyrms]

hi!! idk if you're still upset or not, but I thought I'd send in some word vomit about your little fellas!!

I'm really excited to see harley being introduced into brc!! I know it may be a while since brc is only on chapter 2 (but please go at your own pace in writing!!) but he looks super cool and interesting given what stuff you've told us about him already!

also gonna hop on the anton train here cause I absolutely adore this guy. like he gave dew free top surgery????? and wings???? and a little duckie?????? I'd also be his test subject if I could

and SILAS. AUGH. I'm working on that fanart I PROMISE it's just the posing app I use has restricted a body (? preset ig) I use commonly for their pro version and I'm mourning the losses. but he's so cool!! maybe it's my love for vampires in general (queue twilight and dracula) but he's so just. RREAUGH. I want to squish and bite!!

also lyle and aspen!!!!!!!!!!!!! I adore their styles and I can't wait to learn some more about lyle if the opportunity arises! i love that little flower detail you put on aspen's head with their full body drawings!! they both look really nice I'd be friends with them :33

anyhow I hope you feel better!!!! sending all the hugs your way (if you don't like hugs, how about some air hugs instead!!)

AAAHHH THANKS SO MUCH VELL!!!!

harley’s been rotating around in my head too and i’m soo excited to introduce him but yeah it might. be a very very long time (but i’ll still post art and stuff about him in the mean time! i don’t care much about spoiling brc stuff as i do with tllr)

I LOVE ANTON TOO!!!!! BEST GUY EVER FR!!!!

also THANK U FOR MAKING SILAS FANART i’m so excited to see it when it’s finished!!! take ur time of course no pressure!! but yeah i love silas too hes very silly and fucked up and evil and he might’ve made me realize i’m probably gay so yeah um. fun fact (i think i’m still somewhere on the aromantic spectrum though)

lyle and aspen are so cool and fun to draw too and it’s super fun coming up with their different outfits :3 i’m glad you like them and we’re definitely gonna learn more about them in the series! i’m so excited

anyway thanks so much for sending this i’m glad u like my silly guys :D

[quibbs126]

Alright, I finished this kid, her name is Licorice Cream Cookie

I recognize nobody actually asked for me to make her, but whatever, she’s been rotating in my mind and I just needed to get her drawn

So the name comes from these candies called (I believe) licorice cream rocks, or licorice rockies. I just stuck with Licorice Cream since I didn’t think fitting the whole name worked, or calling her Licorice Rocky. I suppose Cream Rock could have also worked, but it doesn’t really have the “licorice” bit to make her sound related to them. What am I saying? I don’t know at this point. Honestly thinking about it more Cream Rock might work better. If that’s the name you end up seeing in the description, know that I ended up changing it

Licorice cream rock:

I’ve mentioned elements of her design in past posts, but to reiterate. So the one thing I knew I wanted to have was for her to have red eyes (I give a lot of Dark Choco kids red eyes). Then I was trying to think of ways to make her without looking too much like Dark Choco, and I stuck with making her more licorice to have that differentiation. Then I thought to make her dough grey and hair black so that she’d have a combination of both, but also look distinct enough on her own, plus it makes her eyes stand out all the more. Then I just gave her a simple dress to go with, I guess just because. I’ll be honest, while I was fine with her design yesterday when I drew it, I’m not so sure it looks that great right now. Maybe it’s just the face, because nothing else looks particularly off. Or I just feel like this wasn’t worth it, I dunno

Also full disclosure, I made her a kid because I haven’t really fleshed out her herself. To be honest, my thoughts about her have been less about her as a character, and more about shenanigans that ensue with her parents and members of the CoD when she’s accidentally baked, so when she’s a baby

Anyways, so on to Licorice Cream. So as suggested by an anon yesterday, whose idea I really liked, basically she’s the product of a spell gone wrong by Licorice. I imagine Dark Choco’s genes got in there because Licorice needed some dark chocolate for the spell and Dark Choco was in the room, so he just decided it would be easier to get some from him and just threw in a lock of his hair. They were dating at the time, but not to the extent that they were considering parenthood yet, so basically they got sent into a panic at the fact that they kind of now have a kid. I imagine this taking place sometime between the Vanilla Kingdom story and the Hollyberry Kingdom one, so when that story rolls around, Licorice would be there taking care of Licorice Cream, since I imagine that story isn’t dangerous enough for Licorice that it’s okay to bring a freshly baked Cookie. Also it means the Gingerbrave squad can meet her, which I just think would be cute. Also this makes it so she was baked while Dark Choco was in the Cookies of Darkness, which would certainly complicate him leaving the group, as his daughter and partner are still part of that group. However I haven’t really figured out how that whole thing works out, so just assume that if he leaves, not too long after (like less than a year or so I mean) the CoD is defeated and the three going back to being together. I dunno. Before this idea came up, I didn’t have a set way as to how she came to be, but I had sort of come up with the idea that perhaps Dark Choco and Licorice (along with a few other members that work with Licorice, like Bat-Cat, Choco Werehound Brute and possibly Poison Mushroom) decide to leave the CoD with her at around that same time and decide to lay low, so that Dark Choco doesn’t actually end up confronting his father and leaving the group, at least not until Gingerbrave and friends find out where these guys are, and not knowing their intentions seeks them out, possibly including Dark Cacao as he’s been informed his son is a member, which leads to him learning he’s a grandfather now. But this wasn’t the version I went with for this current version, so I don’t know how it all goes down with Dark Choco. Also not sure they bring Licorice Cream to the Dark Cacao Kingdom in this new version, as this area is much more dangerous, but also it means Dark Cacao has the potential to meet his granddaughter and possibly this new knowledge of Dark Choco’s current life could change things about how he approaches their interactions. I dunno

Edit: oh, I just thought of a potential spell that could have caused this. Maybe after their defeat in the Vanilla Kingdom, Licorice thought to make more powerful servants, and knowing that Dark Choco was pretty strong, and just that in general dark chocolate in their world seems pretty physically strong, decided to incorporate some dark chocolate in his spell, using Dark Choco’s hair. Dark Choco might have thought it was a bit odd of a choice instead of just actual dark chocolate, but he doesn’t know magic, so he can’t really argue

I’ve been talking too much about the stuff surrounding Licorice Cream and not much about her herself. I should do that

So as I tried to show in her expression, Licorice Cream is a very friendly child and a bit outgoing. She’s also just generally an absolute sweetheart. Basically the idea is that Dark Choco and Licorice both looked at each other and were like, “okay we CANNOT mess her up like we might be” and tried to raise her as best as possible. She might have been an accident but they still wanted to raise her since she is kind of theirs, and they do genuinely love her. Granted she does also believe that if someone is making fun of her, she should beat them up and stand her ground, which wasn’t exactly the lesson Dark Choco wanted her to learn. She’s also taken an interest in magic like Licorice, though I’m not sure whether dessert magic or dark magic

Also another thing, so as you can see with the sketch, I had this idea that Pomegranate is just terrified of this child, like it’s the one thing that scares her. No one’s entirely sure what it is about her, it’s just that she genuinely scares Pomegranate, calling her some sort of “demon child”. Originally this was going to manifest in that when she sees Pomegranate, even as a baby (since this is where it started), she would go dead silent and just stare at her, her red eyes seeing through her, and it genuinely unsettled Pomegranate, like she was convinced this kid would kill her someday. I’ve more changed it so that Licorice Cream hasn’t actually done anything weird, and rather she acts friendly towards Pomegranate, but something about this kid just feels wrong to Pomegranate and she stays away from it as much as possible. I had another idea yesterday (likely because I was watching cartoons), that Pomegranate would secretly try to get rid of this kid so that she wouldn’t bother her anymore, only for her to keep turning back up one way or another, with her parents getting increasingly protective to prevent this, meaning Pomegranate has no escape from this kid. I mean, technically Pomegranate is half right, this kid is not normal, but she’s not intentionally malicious towards her or anything. She just thinks she’s a demon child, and this was made more for comedy than anything. Also fun fact, Pomegranate’s magic has no effect on Licorice Cream, meaning Pomegranate can’t force her to go away with it

Speaking of which, so I mentioned her having red eyes being an intentional choice. Basically, sort of like Mallomar, I wanted the Strawberry Jam Sword to have some influence on Licorice Cream, though more than Mallomar. Her eyes are red less because of Dark Choco (though that is his red), and more because of SJS influence. I haven’t necessarily worked out the details, but ideas of it are that she’s immune to magic, or at least dark magic, that it’s potentially part of the reason she has such a strong interest in dark magic, maybe that because of it, if you tick her off enough she goes from friendly to eerily aggressive within a split second (though that part’s a definite maybe), and that she sometimes hears a voice in her head, or at least in her dreams, and has felt some sort of calling to find this being, though she’s not sure what it is. Also, since Dark Choco would have had the SJS at some point while she’s alive, during that time, she had a bit of an obsession with the sword, which Dark Choco found concerning, but saw it as nothing more than her innocent curiosity about the big thing that sometimes glows, similar to how he had an obsession with his father’s sword. He was more concerned about the fact that her curiosity might lead her to touch it, which ended up cursing him when he did, and is adamant to make sure his mistakes don’t repeat with her. Though later on in life, he’s noted some of her odd traits, and while he’s not sure whether the sword actually has anything to do with it, he is a bit concerned. Though not in the way that he’s afraid of her, mostly in that he’s becoming increasingly concerned that his use of Strawberry Jam Sword may have unintentionally corrupted her and he feels horribly guilty at the thought that his mistakes might have ruined/corrupted his child right from the start. She doesn’t know about it, and Licorice might have some idea, but he only thinks that these are just thoughts in his head, since Dark Choco’s prone to making himself guilty for things that aren’t his fault

Oh yeah also side note, for her relation to Gancao, despite her being younger in this drawing, Licorice Cream would be older, considering she was baked while Dark Choco was still in the group

But yeah, I think that’s about it for Licorice Cream, I hope you enjoy her

[astarionposting]

Hello! I started following your content a while ago and I definitely love it. Your shots are amazing! You were one of the creators that encouraged me to get the Otis_Inf injected camera, to try and get some good memories from my current gameplay (tho I don't normally post I just keep them for that, memories) Thing is I was going crazy trying to get shots from cinematics (changing angle and stopping at the right time) but I can't find a way, and I thought you would know because you totally master taking screenshots from the game. Could you give me some insight, please? Thank you!

Hello there! I’m definitely no master haha, as I am still learning new things about how the camera tool and everything works, but thank you for the compliment <3.

To pause the game, you must use the 0 key on the numpad to pause. Alternatively, you can change the keybinding in the camera tool menu if this doesn’t work for you. I think the default for injecting the actual camera is the “home” key, but I prefer to use numpad *. I then use the numpad keys to move the camera around, and the + and - keys to increase/decrease FOV to my liking.

A trick I use to get precise moments is to pause way before I know a reaction/animation is going to happen, and I set up my general angle and unlock the numpad, then use the numpad 3 key to move frame by frame, rather than unpausing and pausing again.

Another thing to do is when you are taking screenshots of cinematics and you have the game’s depth of field on (I usually keep it on for home I’m recording videos/gifs), it will sometimes not allow you to capture certain things in focus when moving around with the freecam. I’d suggest turning it off in the “video” settings of the game before and use the IGCS connecter to render your own depth of field at the angle you wish!

Hopefully this helps? I know at first all the different keys can be confusing, but once you know what does what, it becomes much easier. Just become familiar with the controls. I also make a lot of use of the field of view keys (I decrease it a lot to get a more close up shot with less lense distortion) and the rotating keys (for portrait shots, I believe my default they are numpad 2 and 3?)

If you have any other questions, feel free to ask again! <3

I also have a tutorial on how I set up my shots, as well as the keybindings I use to control the camera! Honestly just play around with the camera in camp with the companions and you’ll eventually figure out which angles/compositions you like most!

[torreshalstead]

home

Summary - The apartment was silent as her thumb hovered over the call option, the internal debate raging inside her. If something was wrong then perhaps it was best she didn’t know, she could live in denial. But the other part of her knew that if he could have, Jay would have called. He just would have. Post 10x12 fix-it fic.

Warnings - spoilers as set during/after 10x12 (fic is under the readmore for that reason)

Notes - This was not the fic I had originally planned to post today but for obvious reasons this had to be written. I am still sad and still angry but I hope this story brings you a small amount of closure, like it did me, that the show failed to give us. Thank you so much to reading and continuing to support all fic writers, it’s appreciated more than you know. AO3 Link

The apartment was silent as her thumb hovered over the call option, the internal debate raging inside her. If something was wrong then perhaps it was best she didn’t know, she could live in denial. But the other part of her knew that if he could have, Jay would have called. He just would have.

As the call connects, she steadied herself with a deep breath.

‘Hi, Major Baxter’, she said when the call finally connected. She could feel the panic start to build within her and used everything in her power to keep her voice steady. ‘Hi, um, my name is Hailey Upton’ she stuttered, so much for keeping it steady. ‘I’m umm- my husband is Jay Halstead. He’s on umm- full-time reserve rotation, he’s a squad leader,’ she managed to get out in one breath.

‘Jay Halstead, yes,’ the voice on the other end of the phone confirmed.

‘Oh you know him,’ a small sense of relief started to infiltrate her senses. ‘Oh great. Yep.’

‘I know of him at any rate,’ Major Baxter responded.

‘Know of him, sure.’ She started to stumble over her words. ‘Umm, I’m.. I’m sorry to bother you. I’ve, I’ve just had a hard time connecting with him and I just wanted to check in and make sure he was okay’. Hailey heard the Major take a deep breath and that did nothing to ease her worries.

‘Miss Upton, Squad Leader Halstead and his team went out on a recon mission three days ago,’ he said calmly but Hailey felt her stomach drop. A reconnaissance mission should not have lasted three days and she could tell by the tone of the Major’s voice that there was more. ‘Three members of his squad returned to base in the early hours of this morning. The team had been attacked.’ Hailey took an intake of breath and the tears started forming in her ears, her eyelashes the final line of defence before they made their way down her cheeks. She braced herself against the counter, dreading the next words that he would say. ‘One of the men was taken hostage. Miss Upton, it wasn’t your husband.’

Hailey heard his words, but couldn’t compute them. If it wasn’t Jay that had been taken hostage then why was he not among the men that returned to base. Hundreds of thoughts were swirling around her head as she attempted to regain some composure.

‘Are you still there?’ Major Baxter asked after a moment’s silence.

‘Yep, yes I’m still here. Umm, if Jay wasn’t taken hostage then-’ she stammered.

‘He is currently stationed just outside of the location where his team member is being held. There was a cell-jammer in place so all of their communication methods failed. He sent his men back to base to let us know what was happening and for their own safety. We are currently formulating a plan and are attempting a rescue mission in a couple of hours. Halstead was able to provide us enough information that we should be able to bring his team member home without any casualties.’

Hailey let out a quiet sob. ‘So, he’s okay? And his team is all okay?’ she asked, knowing that if anything happened to a member of his squad, Jay would never forgive himself. He was just wired that way.

‘He’s okay. He refused to leave his man alone so we anticipate he’ll be dehydrated so may need some medical assistance but the guys that he sent back said he wasn’t injured. Miss Upton, if you could excuse me, I have to go to the final briefing now.’

‘Okay, thank you, thank you for your time,’ she spluttered out before ending the call. Her phone fell to the counter, the noise reverberating through the room as her legs gave out and she slid onto the floor. Tears sliding down her cheeks as she hugged her knees to her chest. The feeling of her wedding band heavy on her finger as she tapped it against her knees in an attempt to ground her.

——————————————————————————

The buzzing of her phone woke her from a dreamless sleep. She hadn’t managed to clear her head of thoughts of Jay long enough to enter a sleep that was deep enough to give her some respite.

Glancing over, she saw it was an withheld number. Rubbing her eyes sleepily, she answered.

‘Hailey Upton.’

‘Hails, it���s me’. The exhausted voice of her husband echoed through the phone as Hailey sat bolt upright in bed.

‘Jay?’ her hand flew to her mouth and she couldn’t stop the sobs. ‘It’s really you.’

‘Yeah it’s me’, he said. She could tell he was drained, his speech was slow. ‘I’m sorry,’ he whispered.

‘No, don’t do that’, Hailey said firmly through her tears. ‘You did what you had to do. Did you get your man out?’

‘We did but-’ Jay tried to say but Hailey interrupted him.

‘You’re going to give me some speech about how you should have contacted me and you shouldn’t have picked your team over me.’ Hailey took a breath as she settled herself against the headboard and pulled the covers up over her lap. ‘I know the man you are, Jay Halstead. If one of your team was in danger, then I know you’d go to the ends of the earth to save him. That’s why I love you’.

She heard a shaky breath from the other end of the line and knew Jay was silently crying, he must be alone as she was the only person he ever let see him cry.

‘Jay, I’m sure that man's family will be forever grateful for your actions.’ She wiped the tears from her face with the sleeve of her hoodie.

‘I’m coming home Hailey’, he said quietly.

Hailey took a deep breath in and closed her eyes. She had waited for months to hear those words.

‘The whole team is being sent back. They thought we’d only have a couple of weeks left anyway to get the guys we were following but they were the same ones who kidnapped Simmons, so we got them. They’re in custody.’

‘And you get to come home,’ she said quietly, her gaze now landing on the photo next to her bed. It was of them on their wedding day. It had been the happiest day of her life but she thought the day Jay returned to her might top it.

‘I get to come home’, he spoke quietly.

‘The Major said you might need medical treatment?’ Hailey asked quickly, realising she hadn’t even asked him if he was alright, she had been so excited just to hear his voice.

‘Yep, I need some fluids and I’ve got some cuts and scrapes from the rescue but I haven’t seen the medic yet.’ She could hear him breathing heavily down the line. ‘I had to speak to you first.’

The tears that had briefly stopped, restarted again. ‘Jay, go see the medic. Get some rest and when it’s all done. Come home to me’.

‘That’s all I want’ he said, and she was reminded of a time that felt so far away now when they had said those exact words down the phone to each other. A lot had changed since then but the need to have Jay home with her, had never lessened.

‘Call me when you’ve got a flight booked and I’ll talk to Voight and get some leave’, as she spoke, she ran her thumb over her wedding ring, feeling the etching that it carried against her skin.

‘You don’t have to do that, Hailey’, he said without any real weight behind his words. They both knew no matter what he said, she would be at the airport to meet him and she wouldn’t let him out of her sight. And he’d be lying if he said he didn’t want her there.

‘I know I don’t. But I will’, she spoke softly. ‘Now, go see the medic. And Jay?’

‘Hmm?’

‘I love you’.

‘I love you too’, he answered and the call ended.

As Hailey settled back down under the covers, she pulled the framed photo closer to her, bringing her fingers up to trace the outline of his features. The man she loved would soon be back in her arms, and she couldn’t quite believe it.

——————————————————————————

Hailey stood waiting at arrivals, ringing her hands and bouncing on the balls of her feet. It had been an emotional rollercoaster since that night, the night she found out Jay was coming home. It took a couple of days for the medics to clear him for travel, he was severely dehydrated as he had given all of his water supplies to his men for their way back to base, and a number of his injuries had required stitches and they wanted to ensure they wouldn’t get infected. Once he had been cleared, the team was required to debrief with command but once that had occurred, the flight was booked and Hailey’s furlough was approved. She had managed to get a whole week off to spend with him, and she couldn’t be more excited.

However as she stood, shifting from one foot to another, a wave of nerves overcame her. She knew that in the past, Jay’s time in the military had had a profound effect on him, so she wasn’t sure who the man returning home to her would be. Unlike his other experiences however, he was bringing home his whole squad, and no one had sustained any life threatening or altering injuries. She took some comfort in that, knowing he would too.

She was also worried that she wasn’t the same woman that Jay had said goodbye to all those months ago. The cases at work had been tough, and without her partner there to level her out, she had thrown herself into all of them completely. Her work life balance had become anything but balanced but she hoped that now he had returned, some of that balance would reappear.

All of those emotions were eclipsed by the intense feelings of relief and happiness when she spotted the familiar stature of her husband pass through the arrival gates. She had promised herself that she would save any emotional outburst for when they were alone, as neither were much for public displays of affection but she couldn’t stop herself. She ran towards him and flung herself into his arms. He dropped his bag to the floor with a thud as he wrapped his arms around her small frame and felt her legs tighten around his waist.

He could feel her crying into his neck as he held her tightly, bringing one hand up to bury itself in her hair.

The pair stood entwined for a few moments before Hailey pulled back slightly so she could meet his eyes.

‘Hi’ she said softly, her smile wide across her cheeks that were stained with tears.

‘Hi’ he said back, his smile mimicking hers. ‘Some welcome home’ he said as he leant forward slightly to seal his lips to hers. It was a soft, gentle kiss, and Hailey let herself melt into it for a moment before pulling apart and with a quick peck, she unwrapped her legs from around him and let him place her on the floor. She kept her arms firmly around his shoulders, her fingers playing with the hairs on the back of his neck. They were slightly longer than when he had left, his stubble had clearly not been seen to either since before they went on the recon but his green eyes shone down on her like they always did.

‘Growing it out,’ she asked lightly as she dragged her fingers from the back of his neck down his cheek, feeling the bristle against her fingers.

‘Like it?’ he winked at her and she giggled.

‘I love you’ she said and reached up to kiss him again. When she tried to pull back, he held her closer, chasing her lips with his own and sealing them to hers hotly.

‘I love you too’, he said when he finally pulled back, the colour reddening his cheeks and Hailey bit her bottom lip at the sight. ‘Now take me home?’ he said as he unwrapped his arms from her, grabbing her hand and his bag that was laying forgotten about on the floor and tugging her towards the exit.

‘You are home’, she said as she squeezed his hand and let him lead her out of the airport.

His hair might be slightly longer, his beard starting to grow in, scratches adorned his cheeks, and he was clearly exhausted, but it was her Jay. And he was finally where he was meant to be. Home.

[immeasurable-depths]

Chapter 2 of my post-Grey Valley fight is finally done! It’s definitely not my best work but I just wanted it finished regardless, I’ve got a few more things rotating in my brain that I’m excited to write now this is done. Let me know what you think!

Snippet here, rest on AO3 ft. Lots of angst, hurt/comfort, lots of magic metaphors and something spicy too…

Laudna hated that she didn’t know what Imogen was thinking - and that she was too afraid to ask.

She hadn’t been able to protect her in the fight, and now, she couldn’t protect her from whatever mental torrent was overwhelming her from the inside. And Imogen wasn’t offering it up, either.

Laudna yearned to cross the chasm that separated them, to say something to get Imogen to open up. To make her feel Laudna’s concern for her, to share the burden of whatever she was bottling up. But the wind snatched away any half-formed words that skittered across Laudna’s lips.

It was Imogen, eventually, that broke the silence.

“What is it, Laudna? I can practically see the thoughts spillin’ out of your head, and that’s with this circlet on.” Her voice was soft, with the faintest edge of teasing - but she wasn’t quite managing to sell it. Weariness coated every word, and her eyes gazed forlornly out across the plain; Laudna wished she could look into them.

“It’s nothing, dear.” Now it was Laudna’s own voice that rang false.

“Laudna.”

She sighed, fists clenched into balls at her side. Her pale skin glowed even in the weak moonlight.

“I can’t say what’s bothering me, Imogen. It’s selfish.”

Imogen softened at this, turning towards Laudna to meet her gaze. Pale moonlight glanced off lavender irises in a way that made Laudna’s breath hitch in her chest.

“Hey. None of that.” Imogen always tried to stop Laudna’s self-flagellation in its tracks. “Whatever it is, you can tell me. No judgements here.” A smile ghosted across her lips, small but genuine.

So Laudna yielded first. She sidled closer to Imogen and took one of her hands in both of her own, fingers lacing together effortlessly like pieces of a puzzle.

“I have to admit, Imogen - it was hard to watch you in that fight, today.” She smiled sadly. “I don’t know if I’ve just… not realised how nerve-wracking it is when you have someone you care for so deeply, or…” She trailed off, searching Imogen’s face, but Imogen remained impassive, carefully guarding her expression. Laudna continued.

“You know I think you’re very capable. But watching you put yourself in danger, drawing that creature’s ire…” She frowned and swallowed hard, scared to say her suspicions out loud, not wanting it to come across like an accusation. Laudna cleared her throat. “Well. Like I said, it was hard to watch. I can’t… fathom losing you, Imogen. Now more than ever.” Her eyes were pleading.

Imogen smiled again, her gaze softening in a way that made Laudna’s heart feel like it was being squeezed warmly in her chest.

“That ain’t selfish, Laudna.” She clasped her fingers around Laudna’s. “It’s nice.”

But still, Imogen looked down, not fully meeting Laudna’s eyes. Laudna could tell she still wasn’t saying something, was guarding her words and her thoughts and her heart in a way that Laudna longed to break through, to find out what was hurting her so she could tear it down piece by piece.

If Imogen wasn’t sharing, Laudna would have to draw it out of her. And that meant saying her own fears aloud.

“Sometimes it seemed like… like you were putting yourself at risk intentionally, Imogen. Going out into the open like that, it was… reckless, darling.”

Imogen’s lips pursed, and her grip on Laudna’s fingers loosened.

Laudna opened her mouth to speak again, eyes searching Imogen’s face beseechingly.

“Please don’t.” Her voice was impossibly small. “Don’t… don’t leave me. Not when I just got you.”

Imogen’s face crumpled at that, pain crossing her expression. She tried to withdraw from Laudna’s grasp, but Laudna held on, clinging desperately to Imogen’s hands.

“I’m not…” Imogen trailed off, before starting again. “I’m not tryn’a leave you, Laudna. I could never,” and Laudna believed this, the quiet earnestness permeating through her words. There was a pause, longer than the gaps between Laudna’s heartbeats, too long.

Imogen inhaled deeply, then continued. Her gaze stayed resolutely on their clasped hands.

“Sometimes I feel like I need to draw some fire on myself. To take the hit, to make up for… everythin’.”

The silence rang hollow between them. A cold sensation that had nothing to do with the wind trickled down Laudna’s spine as her eyes roved across Imogen’s face, trying to understand.

“Imogen, what do you - ?”

“All I do is put you in danger, Laudna,” Imogen whispered bitterly. Her hands balled into fists, trying to extricate herself from Laudna’s grasp.

Laudna shook her head, slowly.

“That’s not true, Imogen…”

“That beast earlier today. Dusk, tryin’ to get between us and manipulatin’ everythin’.” Imogen’s voice shook as she choked out the next word. “Otohan.”

“No. No! You can’t hold yourself responsible for these things,” Laudna’s eyes widened and she stooped down a little, desperate to make eye contact with Imogen, to make her see the truth of her words.

Imogen inhaled sharply, and then looked up, gaze boring into Laudna’s; her purple eyes had turned a deep black. Laudna felt herself recoil at the intensity, before steeling herself and meeting the fierce stare.

“Responsible? Look at everythin’ that’s happened, Laud!” Imogen’s hands gestured in exasperation; Laudna couldn’t help but notice that the pale purple lines trailing up her arms flashed white in the moonlight. “My powers… it’s all tied in. Mine, and my mother’s. She’s so involved in all this, and I… I need to prove to Keyleth that I’m not gonna betray them. She already doesn’t trust me.”

“Imogen,” Laudna’s voice came out in a hiss, disbelief plain on her face as she shook her head slowly, trying to convey her disagreement. “You are not responsible for the mistakes of your mother. Any more than I’m responsible for what she does.” She pointed emphatically towards her own temple.

But Imogen was shaking her head. “It’s not the same, Laudna.”

“It’s - it’s…” Laudna was spluttering now, trying desperately to put together an argument to change Imogen’s mind. She could feel a ravine growing between them, widening and widening with every falsehood that Imogen used to convince herself that she was evil.

Laudna lowered her voice, trying to adopt a calm, soothing tone to bring down Imogen’s frantic intensity.

“You’re so brave, Imogen. But -”

“Brave? Ha!” Imogen’s laugh came out as a humourless bark. Her hands flew to her hair and she ran her fingers through it frantically, eyes scrunching shut as she spoke faster and faster.

“I’m anythin’ but brave, Laudna. I’m a coward. It’s like… it’s like there’s somethin’ broken inside me. It’s been broken since my mother left me with these powers and no way of understandin’ them. She claims she’s protecting me, but it’s a lie. She’s not protecting me. She’s runnin’, too. Guess she taught me something.”

Suddenly, all the intensity dropped from Imogen’s speech. She spoke in a hushed voice, bleak and resigned to what she had so effectively convinced herself to believe. Her previously animated hands slumped to her sides, and she stared desolately across the grey horizon.

“All I do is run from the storm. It’s time I stood up and faced it.”

[disablednotdifferent]

Hello Friends!

it is I, Orion. It has been a while since I have checked in with you all, and I am so sorry for that! However, I do have a reason.

Just today, I found out that i have covid. I am currently writing this post curled up in bed, fighting off Nyquil because I do not want to sleep. I have been sick for a few days now, but JUST tested positive for covid today. This is my 5th or 6th time getting covid, so while I’m used to this, it still is awful.

The kicker is, covid affects me differently than most people because of my chronic illness/pain.

So you might be asking, “Orion, How does it affect you differently ?? I thought everyone got sick the same way!” Dear reader, I am glad you asked! Here is a list of 4 things that happen to me when I get covid, and why this is my actual living nightmare right now.

1. My Pain

Because I have covid, my tolerance for pain has decreased, while my pain has skyrocketed. This means it’s very difficult for me to get around, and especially makes going up and down my stairs hurt more than it usually does.

2. The Length

Most folks only get sick for a few days, normally averaging somewhere between 4-6 days ill. However, for me, I can be sick for up to two weeks, sometimes even longer. Last time I had covid, I was sick for a week and a half. I have no clue how long this time will last, but I will keep you updated!

3. My Symptoms

Like a lot of other chronically ill persons, covid symptoms tend to stay with us for up to a month after we get over covid. This means my cough, runny nose, and terrible headache can last for a long long time, even after I’ve tested negative more than once.

4. My Fever

Yes, technically a fever falls under symptoms, but I’m also giving it it’s own section for a reason. At the moment, I’m in a pain flare up, which already causes me to have a low fever pretty often. With Covid, this fever can possibly shoot up to 102* F (38.3* C), or sometimes even higher. Once, I got up to a 105* F (41.1* C), and I had to take a lovely trip to the emergency room that day.

So, with all of those and more combined, what do I do to stay safe and comfortable during these nightmare-ish times ? I’m glad you asked!

1. Stay hydrated

Currently, I keep a big water bottle full of water with electrolytes in it next to me while I’m in bed, to make sure I stay as hydrated as possible. It helps that the electrolytes are flavored to be lemon, which is a flavor I quite enjoy, especially when I’m sick.

2. Stay Cozy

I will admit, I have not changed out of pajamas and a hoodie all day today. I like to stay comfortable when I’m in pain & very sick, and so I usually end up rotating the same several pajamas (washing the ones I’m not wearing if I’m able to get up) to make sure I stay in clothes that I like.

3. Wait it out

This one is my least favorite. No matter how comfortable or hydrated I am, in the end, I have to just wait it out until I feel better. This part sucks, as I’m in pain and violently sick, etc etc. But, at the end of the day, time will eventually be on my side, and hopefully this will go away shortly.

So again, I apologize for my lack of posts. Covid kicks my butt every time!

I will hopefully be able to keep up with posting a little more consistently once I’m over this, but until then, I am giving into my nyquil, and giving up on staying awake.

Lots of Love!

~Disabled not Different

(QUESTION OF THE POST!

What are some things you do to take care of yourself when you’re sick? Let me know!)

[boyrobott]

sooo. me again. with news.

i unfortunately have to push back the essay to later this year because life came at me like a cartoon anvil (SAT’s, moving again, College applications) BUT THE VIDEO ESSAY IS STILL HAPPENING i’m dedicating every free moment I have to editing it I promise. since i’m in post, I can still record anything & put it in so if you want me to mention anything specific lmk because ur basically an expert on the movie��

(also. i read All the Rooftops. It’s great. You’re paying for my therapy.)

It's great to hear from you again, but there really isn't any need to apologize about the delay! You're producing free content, after all, and no one is entitled to your project unless they're paying for it. I'm looking forward to seeing it, and I'm sure plenty of other people in the fandom are, too, but please don't feel like you need to rush on our account. There's no point in putting pressure on yourself. We're more than happy to wait for you!

I'm flattered to hear you consider me an Astro Boy 2009 expert, LMAO (honestly, twelve-year-old me would be thrilled) but, to be honest, I'm much more interested in hearing your thoughts and opinions on the movie. I have to hear my own thoughts 24/7 because I'm constantly rotating this film around in my brain like the world's shittiest microwave. I'm my own captive audience for real.

and why would you need therapy after such a happy fluffy fic where nothing bad happens and everyone is happy 😇

[persicipen]

Just a simple character study question but do you how do you think someone like jiaoqiu after 2.5 (probably well after he’s at least somewhat physically recovered anyway) would be with someone who essentially dedicated their life to curing his eyes? Perhaps they are a renown alchemist, biologist, doctor, whatever - and they’re ensuring he is cared for, made sure that he knew he was and still is very valued, and dispelled any of his self loathing thoughts - almost like they could read his mind (they can’t but he finds it both amusing and scary how intuitive they are). And just idk, someone who is selfless and falling for the foxian, who maybe has been in a similar spot themselves with self loathing and broken heart, doing all they can to help bring back some semblance of his sight so that he can return to some form of cooking and healing again; something he mentioned (after many many months of knowing them) that it was something he enjoyed greatly. The subtle cracks in his voice when speaking of his passion truly breaks their heart.

Not out of pity, nah, or coddling him (goodness no), but out of pure genuine care. :’)

dear nonnie, i want you to know that you made me cry <3 lightheartedly, of course, because i adore this subject and rotated it in my head for hours, days, weeks. i even have plans to write fics around this topic, more or less with coherent drafts in my notes, but can’t promise i will get to post them anytime soon given the promised schedule. now, back on the track—

i feel like jiaoqiu can’t change much at this stage of his life. it’s been hinted many times that he’s not young anymore and lived through traumatic experiences such as war, losing comrades and his previous general, dealing with helplessness and low self-esteem. what i want to say is that person who decides to dedicate their time and effort to love him, must accept that he will remain like this — brushing off his personal troubles to not worry those around him and hiding pain behind a smile.

there is a good side to this, though bittersweet. i doubt that his injuries and losing vision affect him the same way as they would, for example, someone young. he’s been through things, he’s tired and melancholic, another unfortunate ailment won’t mean much to him as long as those dear to him remain alive and safe. it might not suffice, but perhaps staying in the kitchen with someone doing the cooking for him can at least partially fill the void — maybe even doing simple recipes that do not require knives or spicy ingredients, hehe.

having someone to take care of him the same way he takes care of others would be the best, really. he deserves attention and gentleness, and keeping that hope that he will get better shining brightly. like you said, not out of pity, but genuinely because jiaoqiu deserves to rest and enjoy his life after dedicating almost entirety of it to those in need. loving someone deeply hurt at heart is a tough job, but no less rewarding. he’s aware how much it means to appreciate every little gesture. if you were to work hard to return him to full health, he would probably exert himself to repay you a hundred times in ways he’s still able to do so. he still has his exceptional knowledge to share and aid you, still can smile at you sincerely, still can take some houseworks on himself when you’re busy looking for a cure.

we’ve seen how special of a bond he has with feixiao. their relationship is simple at first sight — the general and her healer, her guardian. but in reality it’s quite the other way around, the fact that he’s needed helps him deal with his own struggles and in this meaning she’s the one healing his broken heart. a similar bond would exist between him and you, regardless of your profession. you’re the one taking care of him, making sure he can vent and cry in your arms, lifting the weight off his shoulders, promising him that he will get to see you and his loved ones again.

aaand i’m sorry for answering with a wall of text, but, as you can see, this topic is really precious to me. to sum this all up, i think jiaoqiu would be a little confused at why do you love him despite all that, not used to be on the receiving end. he might need time to open up, but will be forever grateful to you — not only because you want to heal him but also because you spend with him every day before that.

[indigosunsetao3]

Keeping Lines Blurry

Chapter 9 - Under the Overpass

Masterlist of Chapters

Warnings: 18+ - No minors Please read the tags on A03 for any of your triggers

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick X Original FMC 7.1k words - AO3 Link.

When they pulled into the main drive the rain had not relented in the least but that didn’t stop Price from storming to the carriage house as Gaz backed in. Olivia had woken up when they had stopped at a light and was sitting in the backseat blinking a bit confusedly, the alcohol still strong in her veins as she gripped Kyle’s jacket in her lap. Gaz watched her for a second in the rearview mirror before Price came around to the driver’s side door and pulled it open hard and fast enough that it bounced off a support pillar.

“Head inside,” Gaz said quietly to Olivia who was staring at the situation with a look of shock. She didn’t need to be told twice though, she quickly scooted to the door and climbed out, not stopping for her dress or shoes and just opting to run barefoot in the rain to the house. Gaz and Price watched her go in silence, his Captain at least giving him the dignity to not dress him down in front of someone else. But Gaz had a feeling that’s where the niceties were going to end.

“You better have a really good fucking explanation, Sergeant,” Price snapped as he stepped back for Gaz to get out. “Because I’ve spent the better half of my evening trying to keep the peace and I’m tired of not knowing the reason why.” He crossed his arms over his chest and gave Kyle a quick once over, noting that he was shirtless and soaking wet. “If you took this as a chance to get her alone, we have several problems.”

“She called me,” Gaz snapped back as he matched Price’s stance, knowing he was really pushing his limits. “It was my night off. I didn’t miss a check-in, nor desert my post,” he continued and raised an eyebrow. “So, I don’t see why this is a problem.” He knew exactly why it was a problem and Price looked like he was going to explode.

“Don’t be fucking cute,” Price answered. “She’s a job, we don’t get friendly with the jobs,” he snarled before spotting the bright red dress on the seat which was also soaking wet. “Or fuck them,” Price said the last words were laced with heavy accusation and Gaz shifted once on his feet.

“You knew my history with her. Yet you still stuck me on this job. I asked for anything else but you said no. That we had to do stupid fucking rotations. You put me here, I didn’t choose it,” Gaz answered and he knew that the blowup from Price was coming. He was poking for a fight, for a punishment, for something to concentrate his anger on that he had been stewing with after everything Olivia had, and hadn’t, told him. “And I didn’t fuck her,” he tacked on after a second to clarify that. “She snuck away from her friends and security. She called me and I went on my off time to find her, she was in the pouring rain drunk and alone. Then she asked to talk.”

“Watch your tone,” Price answered, his voice leveling into an eerie calm. That was always when people went running or cowed down to him. “Your history should have no impact on the job, you’re a better soldier than that. Or so I thought,” he continued and saw the tick of irritation in Gaz’s jaw at that. “Do you know what this looks like? Her ex sweeping her away into the night with little more than a text saying you found her. Showing up a few hours later with her in your clothes? And you half-naked yourself?”

“I thought you trusted me,” Gaz answered simply. “I know what I am doing,” he continued though really, he was so mixed up in his own thoughts at the moment he had no idea if he truly did. “She wanted to talk about what happened with us, to clear the air and maybe make this easier for everyone,” he looked at the house as a light upstairs flicked on and caught his attention. Olivia’s bathroom judging by the location. “And in her half-drunk state, she told me things that I’m sure she didn’t mean to. She’s terrified of Henry; says he knows people and would make her family disappear. She admitted he hits her and,” he clenched his teeth together for a second, “and then some.” He let the words hang in the air for Price to fill in the blanks.

“It’s not a matter if I trust you,” Price answered. “It matters that we are on a high-profile, high risk, job and you’re letting your feelings get in the way. When you know Alex is working his ass off for information for you, that I’m giving you the freedom to dig,” he paused giving Gaz a chance to interrupt him, and effectively hang himself by a rope even more. Gaz knew better and stayed silent but the look on his face was full of rebuttals that he was biting back.

“You want off this job? Fine,” he gestured to the house, “get packed up. You’ll be on rotation elsewhere. Take some time to get your head back on straight and out of her ass,” he smirked, though it didn’t meet his eyes. “I don’t want to hear any shit from you. You want to be babied; I’ll baby you.” Gaz opened his mouth to fight back and Price held his hand up. “That’s an order Sergeant. You’re taking my spot at the Prime Minister's tonight since you’re the reason I was dragged here. I’ll let Ghost know about the changes. You have ten minutes and don’t fucking wander.”

Gaz shut his mouth at the order but let his displeasure be known as he slammed the SUV door shut and stormed to the house. He all but kicked in the backdoor to find Soap standing there attempting to look like he wasn’t trying to snoop but failing miserably. He gave up the pretense and raised an eyebrow as Gaz snatched up a pile of laundry off the washing machine a few feet away and started wiping down his arms.

“You going to tell me what happened?” Soap asked simply as he walked over and looked out the window to see Price was still in the carriage house on the phone. “I tried to warn you, he’s in a fucking state. All but ran me over on my rounds when he pulled in and demanded to know if I knew where you were.” He saw Gaz give him a questioning look as he moved to kick off his shoes that were squishing with each step. “Heavy rain is messing with the cameras and I couldn’t see shit so I did a walk around,” Soap answered, “would be the time for someone to try something.” He shrugged, “it’s what I would do anyway.”

“Nothing happened,” Gaz lied by omission.

“No?” Soap laughed a bit, “that why she ran in here in nothing but your shirt after you were gone for a few hours?” He raised his hands up a bit in surrender as Gaz turned on him. “I’m just saying what everyone is going to see and know by morning. Henry’s been all in a twist about it, calling Price, calling the security team, demanding we track your phone,” he shook his head. “I’m not going to tell you what to do but every time this woman is involved you get screwed over, are you sure this is what you want to do?”

“I didn’t want to do any of this to fucking start with. I was put here against my choice if everyone remembers,” Gaz answered as he let out a frustrated sigh. “It doesn’t matter anyway. Price is pulling me off, says I’m getting too close. I’ll be working with the Prime Minister and whatever else he decides I need to do for penance,” Gaz explained with a small grumble. “Keep an eye on things here,” he stated, the words heavily implying something else aside from the obvious job. Soap merely nodded and watched Gaz disappear upstairs to change and pack.

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

Henry was returning home from his trip early, which was never a good omen. Olivia had sat in the small library and watched him return with his group of staffers in the late morning two days after her drive with Kyle. The night was still a bit of a blur, some things coming in and out of focus in her memory as she tried to remember it all. One thing she knew for sure was that he had held her in the backseat while she cried, and soothed her to sleep as they just sat in silence listening to the radio and rain. She had laundered Gaz’s shirt herself and deposited it in the bedroom where he had been staying when no one was around. The Captain had returned her dress the day before without a word and Olivia hung it to dry before putting it back in her closet along with her freshly cleaned shoes. She was being careful to try and rid all evidence of the crimes Henry would accuse her of, knowing there was no way around the cameras but she needed to at least try.

She was gripping her teacup tight between her fingers as she watched Henry walk toward the house. His eyes were downcast looking at his phone until the last moment before he stepped inside, his gaze found her with pinpoint precision. There was anger and violent promises behind the gaze and Olivia felt her hands shake, splashing the cold tea on her front before she set the cup down and attempted to take a deep breath. When the maid stepped in to dust a few minutes later Olivia nearly jumped out of her skin thinking it was Henry, her body was wound tight waiting for the inevitable.

He didn’t come to the library though; he didn’t even attempt to seek her out the rest of the day for that matter. He was holed up in his office working and Olivia finally left her sanctuary of the library when the sun started to set, giving the man in the Ghost mask a small polite smile as she passed him in the hall. Kyle hadn’t returned since he left two nights ago and she found she was seeing the man they called Ghost when it should have been his shift. Did he ask to get moved? She thought after their talk they were going to turn a corner and maybe begin repairing the past but maybe Kyle decided against it. He got the confession from her and was just going to close the chapter of his life and move on. That would be better, safer for everyone, but the ache deep in her chest disagreed.

“Liv,” came Henry’s voice as she passed by his office. Shit. She had been avoiding going anywhere near his office or the bedroom. That’s where he liked to dole out his worst, where he could cut the cameras and have no witnesses. “Come in here a moment,” he stated politely but she knew it was a command. She debated just running, just head back down the hall and pretend like she hadn’t heard him but Olivia knew better.

“Coming,” Olivia answered putting a small little smile on her face before turning to face him to see he was leaning in the doorway. He was still in his suit but his tie was undone hanging from his neck and the top few buttons of his shirt were undone. If he had been a normal husband, the one she thought she was marrying, it would have been a sight to see him looking at her like this. But Olivia knew the predatory possessive gaze he was giving her was anything but loving. “How was your trip? You’re home early,” she mused as she walked up to the door and did her best not to flinch away as he grabbed her by the arm and led her inside.

The office was empty, all the staffers gone for the day, and Olivia’s eyes darted up to the camera in the room to find the red light was off. He was already setting the scene and she swallowed once as he shut the door behind them with a snap and she heard the telltale click of the lock being turned. If she had been braver she would have asked him to unlock it again and walked out, but instead, she walked out of his grasp and further into the office. She stopped when she made it to his desk and gazed at the papers scattered all over, her fingers tracing the intricate carvings on the oak. She opened her mouth to ask him something, anything to keep him talking, but he was already behind her with a vice grip on the back of her neck.

“Drop the act,” Henry snapped as he slammed her forward over the desk, barely giving her a chance to catch herself with her hands before she fell face-first on the paperwork. “You know why I am home early,” he continued as he pressed her harder until her hands gave out and slid over the desk knocking things over. He ignored the pained whimpers she gave as he pressed her cheek hard into the wood. “Did you think it was cute Olivia? Did you think yourself amusing to behave that way while I was gone? I was nice, I let you go out with your trashy little friends,” he chuckled a bit, “let you have a girl’s night. But that wasn’t enough, no, you needed more,” he chuckled darkly.

“No, Henry,” Olivia tried, preparing to tell the story she had concocted and recited to herself hundreds of times over the past few days. She had come up with a story of fighting with her friends, that they had dumped her and she had no idea where she was. She didn’t have her security team’s number in her phone but she had Kyle’s because she had all of the task forces numbers in her phone, just like him. “I was lost and I didn’t want to worry you. I called Kyle because I knew he was with his girlfriend, she lives in downtown London and I thought,” she whined as she felt Henry make a grab for her pants. She was hoping using the term girlfriend Henry would realize that Kyle had no interest in her, that he wasn’t a threat.

“You thought what?” Henry asked as his fingers found the button of her pants and flicked them open. “That he’d come to your rescue? He can’t like his girlfriend too much if he ditched her and came looking for you,” he answered as he shoved her down hard again when she attempted to stand up. “If that was true why didn’t you come right home? Surely, he wanted to get back to his,” he paused to wrench her pants down to her knees, “girlfriend.”

“I asked him to take me for a drive,” Olivia said her voice taking a pleading tone as she twisted, “I was feeling sick. I wanted fresh air. That’s it, Henry, I promise. Please let’s talk,” she twisted hard and managed to get out of his grasp for a brief second, which was enough for her to fold down to her knees on the ground and try to scramble out of his grasp. He didn’t let her get far though, his hand shooting out to grab her by the throat this time and raise her up to her feet and then some, so she was on her tiptoes. “Henry, please. I promise, nothing happened,” her words were a bit strained at the grip and she scratched at his still sleeved arm. Bastard knew this would be a fight and was already preemptively covering his bases.

“You have one more chance to tell me the truth Olivia,” Henry answered as he freed the tie from around his neck and wound it around his free hand in a threatening gesture. “So, I would choose your words very carefully,” he let go of her throat with a shove and smirked as Olivia stumbled over the pants at her knees and grabbed onto one of the high-backed chairs.

“I don’t know what you’re asking,” Olivia tried before Henry took a step toward her. “I told you what happened, that’s everything. I swear, please,” she tried begging though that never worked.

“Oh darling,” he said with a small laugh, “you should make sure you have your whole story covered before you make things up.” He twisted the tie between both of his hands now, holding it like he was going to choke her with it. “You went to the dance club he used to take you to and asked him to pick you up. You knew exactly where you were, you weren’t lost,” he was backing her up against the wall. “I followed your phone GPS, I watched the drive. Saw where you stopped and sat for a very long time. Then suddenly you left when I texted you? When you ignored my phone call? And you show up in his shirt?” He tsked, “and him naked from the waist up? It’s not hard to figure it out.”

“No, I swear Henry,” Olivia pleaded, “nothing happened. He didn’t touch me. I was standing in the rain and he gave me his shirt because I was frozen,” she felt the wall hit her back and she darted her eyes around the room for an escape. She didn’t remember sending those messages, that part of her memory a blur when she begged Kyle to come get her. She had been scared to look back at them afraid Henry would see her poking about in her phone and know she was up to something. “It won’t happen again. I won’t go out again. And he’s gone anyway, they moved him to another assignment. He isn’t around anymore and we can go back to how it was before,” she tried as Henry silently grabbed her hands and wrapped the tie around one wrist before the other pulling it so tight she instantly felt her fingers go numb.

“He’s not gone yet,” Henry answered as he grabbed her tied hands and roughly pulled her forward and down, using her imbalance against her so she fell forward into the carpet right on her face. “I’m still working on that part,” he smirked as he shrugged off his jacket tossed it onto a chair, and started work on his button-down. She had twisted to look up at him and moved to try to get up on her elbows but he merely pressed her back down with his still-shoed feet, knowing the heel would dig into her lower back. “It’ll be a shame when the Sergeant’s body is found in the Thames,” he laughed a bit, “all the work you did to keep him safe and you still fucked it up. Maybe I’ll let you go to the funeral,” he started work on his pants, “get a few pictures of you grieving over a soldier killed. It’ll do wonders in the press.”

Olivia felt her blood run cold and she stopped squirming, feeling the fight leave her body as Henry’s words fell heavily on her. Everything she had done to keep him safe, keep her family safe, and she had thrown it all away after a drunk mistake. A stupid drunk mistake because she was so broken and alone, she had sought out an ounce of comfort. Like she tried telling Kyle that night Henry always, won. Always. She had to warn Kyle, warn his team, somehow if it wasn’t already too late. She felt the silent tears fall as Henry finished undressing and she slammed her eyes shut as his hands found her again doing her best to disassociate from the situation and instead come up with a plan.

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Despite the fact that Gaz was actively working it still felt like he had been shunted to the sidelines by Price. He had been given his weekly rotation schedule the night he had left Henry and Olivia’s house and as Price had promised, he was not going back there. He was to rotate between the Prime Minister the Deputy Prime Minister, and some other officials with MI6 and given a few hours of downtime. Gaz knew better than to try and reach out to Olivia but he still dared to ask Soap how things were going, and Soap stated it was all quiet. He wasn’t sure if he liked that answer, quiet was unnerving especially if Henry was as bad as Olivia made him out to be. Then of course the summit was in a week, one week and they still weren’t any closer to finding out who did it.

When Gaz’s phone rang and he saw it was Price he sat up quickly from where he had been lounging on the back patio of the minister’s house. It was a sunny, albeit cold, day and he had taken the opportunity between events to try and soak up the sun. He had some downtime coming to him that night and had arranged to meet Abby for a proper date. Gaz was hoping the distraction would help him not linger and wonder what was going on with Olivia, it was keeping him up every night and he was going mad with questions.

“Sir,” Gaz said into the phone. It was the first time they had spoken in over a week and while Gaz was still not happy, he knew he deserved what Price gave him, worse really.

“We have credible intel,” Price said in way of a hello. “Alex has been tracking it down and the source is legit,” he paused, the sound of footsteps on gravel telling Gaz he was walking to somewhere more private to talk.

“Intel on what, Sir?” Gaz asked as he patted down his jacket to try and find his little notebook and pen he kept in it. When he pulled it out, he stared at the wavy paper where it had obviously been soaked and dried, pushing away the thought that it was Olivia who had caused it when she slept on his jacket in the backseat.

“The Russians who orchestrated the attack in Belarus,” Price answered. “We think they’ve got a safe house here in London. Alex found a log of shipments buried in legal drabble showing items going in and out from one of Henry’s warehouses in unmarked black vans, few of them went there,” he continued.

“Henry? Are you moving on him? What do you need from me?” Gaz asked instantly as he wrote it all down feeling that excitement build in him that he was going to be able to do something. “Olivia was trying to tell me something but she was too afraid, maybe this was it,” he muttered.

“You are going to be pulling doubles,” Price replied, his voice flat as he cut across Gaz’s musings. “Ghost and Soap are going to work the lead,” he explained. “I’ll need you with the ministers taking Ghost’s rotations and I’ll be taking Soap’s. Alex is going to set up shop in MI6 to continue work.”

“Let me work the leads,” Gaz tried as he slumped a bit defeated in his chair. “I’m doing nothing but sitting around all day, going from meeting to meeting all day,” he groused. “I am good at recon, I can blend in a bit better with civilians than Ghost,” he tried to reason.

“You wanted off the Henry patrol, you got what you wanted,” Price answered knowing that it would grind on Gaz’s nerves. He still wasn’t letting him back into the swing of things yet, he needed to learn what happened when he did what he wanted and didn’t listen to his Captain. Gaz had gotten a little too comfortable pushing his boundaries as of late. “Enjoy your time off tonight because you’ll be working around the clock.”

Gaz snarled and shut his phone shut with a click before looking at the time on his watch. It was time to move again and he rose from the chair and headed inside. He would have to let Abby know tonight would be the last time they saw one another for a while. Shooting her a quick text to confirm their dinner he headed to the waiting town car to go to another meeting about who knew what.

He watched the clock slowly creep for the rest of the day, standing at attention at a door or escorting a large group of stuffy suits to and from the car. The unknown number had been silent for days, not answering any questions Gaz threw at them. Still, he checked the phone, opened the messages, and glared at the lack of response for a bit before putting it away. He even found himself looking at the string of messages from Olivia that night and found his fingers hovering over sending her a message before knowing better and closing it out as well. The only people that were actively talking to him were Abby and Soap when he could get away, it seemed Ghost was joining in on the silent treatment from Price. Though that could just be Ghost in general, he wasn’t one for many words. Alex was head down in intel work and since Gaz had nothing new for him, he had nothing new for Gaz.

“See you in the morning,” Gaz called to the team he had been with all day before heading out into the bitter cold. The restaurant was within walking distance to where he was so he opted to just leg it instead of taking the SUV and trying to find parking. He’d just catch a ride with Abby back to her place and taxi back in the morning if needed. Flipping his coat collar up Gaz shoved his hands into his pockets and headed west toward the river, wondering if the twenty-minute walk was worth not dealing with traffic.

As he exited out of the Whitehall Gardens and neared the overpass of the Hungerford Bridge Gaz knew something was off. He had sensed someone had been watching him the second he made it to Horse Guards Ave but he shook the idea off. He didn’t see anyone in his peripherals or in shop windows as he walked and he had even made a fake pitstop at one of the sculptures in the park but no one appeared. It still felt odd though and the minute he got to the underpass he knew for sure someone was watching and following.

He watched as two men appeared from behind a large utility box as if they just melted out of the shadows. They were burly, dressed in all black with baseball caps pulled low over their faces to try and obscure their identity as much as possible. Gaz glanced over his shoulder in time to see three other people appear on the sidewalk the way he had come effectively blocking his retreat. Knowing he only had moments Gaz quickly assessed the area he was in to see what he could use to his advantage, if anything. The one and only light pole had one light out and the other the bulb was barely alive giving off hardly any light. There were no bikes tied to the racks, not that he would expect a bike to last five minutes here with or without a lock. And there was no one around, on foot or in a car to witness what was about to happen.

Gaz could either go for his pistol or his phone, and ever the person not wanting to risk putting civilians in danger Gaz went for the phone. He looked down for just a second and selected who to call before slipping the phone back into his breast pocket as he continued to size up his odds. He hoped they would pick up, that they weren’t busy, and would figure out what was happening just by the sounds coming from Gaz’s side. One of the men didn’t seem to care about possible innocent casualties as he raised a gun while the man beside him let a metal bar of some sort slide down their arm so they could grip it better. Next choice Gaz had to make was who to go for; the gun or the lethal looking pipe. He still didn’t know what the men behind him had yet but he needed to work this down one at a time.

Darting down quickly Gaz pushed hard with his legs to rugby tackle the man with the gun, barely flinching as the guy fired a shot that echoed loudly and ricocheted off the brick. Gaz’s ears were ringing slightly at the closeness of the sound but he still managed to get the guy down on his back. His knees stung as the slacks he wore tore against the concrete but he kept moving, making a grab for the gun. He grabbed the guy’s wrist and slammed it hard against the curb to get him to drop the pistol, once, twice, three times. Gaz felt the pop of the guy’s thick wrist before the pistol fell away into the road and somehow toward the drain but Gaz only had a second to enjoy his small victory as something hard nailed in him the back.

The air was forced out of Gaz’s lungs as he rolled to avoid another hit, he coughed and spluttered as he pushed up onto his hands and knees to get back on his feet. The man with the metal bar took another swing and Gaz quickly stepped back, twisting to avoid the hit but it still caught his arm. It hurt like hell, the shock of the hit vibrating up his arm and making his teeth rattle. The rest of the men had joined them now, having hung back for a moment as gunfire had gone off. Gaz gazed between all of them, looking for his best option to get out of the situation; if there was a way out. Something he learned long ago was to know when you were outnumbered and it was time to fall back.

“Any more coming or is five it?” Gaz asked in a taunt but also as a way to convey information to the person that was hopefully on the other end of the call he made. One of the people laughed for a second as they all just stared at one another waiting for someone to make the first move. Gaz curled his hands into fists and let his eyes dart back and forth, he wasn’t going to attack first because that would make him vulnerable. He would lure them in and then do his best to disarm, disable, and run though he knew the odds of getting out of this one without help were low.

Three seconds of silent watching then all hell broke loose. Gaz felt each hit as they landed on him but he didn’t stop to truly let the pain settle in. He landed hits of his own, kicking out hard enough that he felt someone’s knee snap backward followed by a bellow of pain and a man went down. Bolstered by the fact it was three on one for the time being Gaz continued to scuffle, dodging hits when he could and only grunting for any sign of pain so as to not show these men weakness. He took a cheap shot elbow to the face that sent him sideways, stunning him for a brief second as blood flooded his mouth but that was enough for them to get the upper hand. The man he had knocked to the ground with the gun wrapped his arm around Gaz’s neck and squeezed. When Gaz quickly headbutted backward toward him he hit only hit his chin as they hefted him up.

Gaz tried to shift his legs back to sweep the guys out but the bastard with the metal pipe took a swing that landed right across his knees. The pain exploded in Gaz’s legs and he briefly saw black in his vision as he cried out and scrambled to get his feet back under him. His legs still worked but they fucking hurt. Something was busted in his right knee so even if he got out of this there would be no running. But there was no time to focus on that as the hits just started coming, one right after the other without letting up. They were aiming to incapacitate him now; the fight had been more than they bargained for and they weren’t looking to draw it out any longer. The arm around his neck was getting tighter and Gaz pulled on it with his hands, giving up trying to protect himself because if he couldn’t breathe it didn’t matter.

“Smile for the camera fuckwad,” came a heavy voice in Gaz’s ear as he was wrenched standing again, his legs no longer supporting him properly after seconds, minutes, of being hit and kicked. Someone grabbed his jaw and forcefully turned him somewhere, the left they turned him left he realized. Gaz couldn’t see what he was supposed to be looking at though, his vision was a haze after all the hits and he was sure he had blood in his eyes. “He wants to make sure the Missus gets a good shot,” he laughed before Gaz shook his head to the side to get out of the grip.

“Go to hell,” Gaz muttered, spitting out drool and blood. He knew exactly what the man was saying, who the missus was, and what she was about to be forced to see. Gaz didn’t want that, didn’t need Olivia to live with that thought, which was enough to give him a bit of steam back.

Lifting his arm up he drove his elbow back hard into the man’s diaphragm and the grip loosened around him just slightly. It was just enough for Gaz to grab the man’s thumb and bend it back hard and fast enough it snapped loudly. Gaz stumbled one step before righting himself and turning back to the fight, despite the fact he could barely see or think straight. He wasn’t running out of there, he just needed to keep buying time. Someone was bound to come around, a car, a pedestrian, fuck a little old lady walking her dog. He knew any sort of witness would scare them off and London was always full of people, it was just a matter of time before someone happened upon them.

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“Please not tonight,” Olivia begged as Henry grabbed her by the elbow and bodily dragged her from the library toward his office. She had been on pins and needles since Henry had last had her in the office, trying to figure out what to do. She knew Henry always lived up to his threats and promises but he had been quiet since that night. Not giving her a hint of what he was thinking or going to do, had even been sweet and bought her flowers which had unnerved her even more. “Henry I’m exhausted and frankly still sore,” she tried as she winced as he sat her down in his office chair.

“You’ll want to see this darling,” Henry nearly purred as he walked back to the office door and flicked the lock. “I did it for you,” he smirked as he saw the confusion on her face. He leaned around her in the chair and quickly typed in the password on the laptop there before moving back to stand with his hands on her shoulders. He had pulled up a live video feed and waited for Olivia to figure out what she was looking at.

“What?” She asked leaning forward a bit to try and figure out what this was all about. It was a dimly lit area; a street or tunnel of some sort and she squinted to try and make out where this was. “What is this Henry?” Olivia asked, feeling unease settle over her but she wasn’t sure exactly what for because it was just an empty street.

Henry looked at his phone for a second before smirking and looking up at the laptop again, “just wait a moment. Patience my love,” he was practically oozing smugness and delight and he looked down at Olivia who turned her head to watch him. None too gently he grabbed the back of her head and turned it back to the screen. “You’re going to miss it; I doubt it’ll last very long. Though I’ll keep the recording just for you. For when you need to remember.”

Goosebumps erupted on Olivia’s skin as she looked back at the screen and spotted someone walk into the frame. He was moving quickly with his coat collar turned up but then the man stopped and turned to look behind him and Olivia saw his face. It was grainy footage but she knew Kyle’s face anywhere. She gasped and attempted to turn to look at Henry but he held her head fast. “Henry, what are you doing?” Olivia asked, her hands moving to grip the desk as men closed in around Kyle and he stuffed his cell phone back into his jacket pocket. “Henry stop this,” Olivia said after a moment before the gunshot went off as Gaz tackled one of them. There was no sound on the video but Olivia saw the flash, watched all the men flinch and she screamed.

“Quiet,” Henry instructed as his eyes darted to the office door to make sure no one was nearby and came knocking. “Don’t ruin this for me,” he grinned as he moved around the chair to hover near Olivia’s shoulder, his face pressed close to hers to take in the scene on the laptop but also her face. “I warned you. I told you to leave it alone, but you didn’t listen and now he gets to pay the price. I honestly thought you would have tried to tell him, tried to help him,” he chuckled as Gaz took the hit to the knees and lost his footing. “But self-preservation has always been your downfall. Keep yourself alive and well and fuck everyone else, isn’t that right love? Isn’t that why you chose me? Keep that cushy little life, keep your family from going under, or be exposed for all their illegal dealings? Can’t ruin that family name or let daddy go to jail.”

Olivia was crying, her hands pressed against her mouth as she watched Kyle take hit after hit, unable to outdo the five men who had trapped him. She attempted to close her eyes and look away but Henry shook her and forced her to keep watching, keep seeing Kyle attempt to hold it together as he was beaten mercilessly with fists and weapons. He couldn’t take much more and she whimpered as one of the men yanked his head around to fully face the camera and Henry pressed a few buttons on the keyboard and zoomed in a bit. He looked awful, he was badly battered and there was blood all over his face and mouth. He was dazed but then she saw Kyle say something and he broke free of the hold, deftly getting the man off his back and stumbling to the side before straightening preparing to fight again.

“Don’t get your hopes up,” Henry mused as he saw Olivia widen her eyes and sit up straighter watching. Gaz was barely able to stand up straight but Henry would give him the fact that he wasn’t going to go down on his knees, he was a good little soldier. “Ah, there, see?” Henry added with a laugh after a small fight ensued and Gaz took a final hit across the chest with the metal pipe and he fell down winded before taking a kick to the face and falling to the ground limp. “Makes the job easier to look like a mugging. More bruises and all that,” he mused as he quickly sent a message on his phone.

Olivia was leaning over the laptop, her knuckles white as she gripped the wood and silently willed Kyle to get up. He wasn’t moving and she flinched herself as one of the men kicked him over onto his back and started rooting around in his pockets and pulled out what looked to be his phone and wallet, along with a pistol that was tucked into his back waistband. “Get up,” Olivia whispered silently, “please.”

“He had a gun this whole time and never used it?” Henry laughed, actually sounding genuinely amused, “good people are always so noble. He probably would have lived if he took the risk,” he grinned as Olivia quickly jerked in the chair to face him. “Oh. You thought this was just a beatdown? A warning shot of sort?” He smirked as Olivia turned a delicate shade of green and he saw her chest rapidly rise and fall. “I already told you how this was going to end, remember? Come now you remember,” he prodded before gesturing for her to look at the screen again.

Olivia watched as the men smashed Kyle’s phone on the ground and pulled items out of his wallet before throwing it down next to the phone. One of them took the pistol and tucked it into their own pants before two of them bent down and lifted Kyle’s still unconscious form up and started to walk him out of what Olivia figured out was an overpass and down the sidewalk a bit.

“Stop this,” Olivia shrieked as Henry switched cameras to follow where they were moving. London was covered in cameras and Olivia was certain while she could see this now this footage would miraculously disappear overnight or be corrupted. “Stop this,” she tried again, her voice getting even higher as she watched another man come to assist in hefting Kyle’s body up onto the railing. “Please Henry, I’ll do anything. Please!”

“See, you say that but then you just do as you want. I think it’s time you learned from your mistakes. Really understand that there are consequences to your actions. That while you are my wife you will do as I say. If you don’t, then you’ll see what happens when you disobey or disappoint me. Be grateful it was only him this time and not your mother or father,” he grinned as Olivia glanced at him for a moment, taking in the look of fear on her face, before he pushed her cheek to force her to watch what was happening.

It was over in a second. If Olivia had blinked she would have missed it, but she didn’t. She stared horrified as the men pushed Kyle’s limp body over the railing and into the rushing Thames river below.

[therentyoupay]

Hey Kris 🥹 I’m in the process of re-reading my fav of yours TON. I’ve always wondered how you came up with that prompt and if you always had an idea of where you were going with it? And if you always knew it would be this big/long of a monster. Also what drew you to the ship of Tahno and Korra? But also how are you doing? How’s data collection and your summer going? Have you been doing anything fun lately? 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼 I hope you’re taking care of yourself!

HELLO MY LOVE. thank you, nonny, for your ask and for all of your sweet, thoughtful, considerate, lovely questions. 🥹💕 also, please know how much i deeply appreciate your ask and you still sticking around through all of my back-and-forth across fandoms! 💕😂 i always love and really appreciate that readers of my tahnorra, miraculous ladybug, and jelsa fanfiction are so willing to wait through the storm of rotating seasons (and sometimes, quite literally, as you know 👀🍁🍂🍃).

i made a post the other day like "this is it, it's autumn now, i have lit the apple wreath candle" and, as you might have surmised (and as you might similarly feel), this means we are officially heading into tahnorra season and that one night! 😂 time to drink café mochas (extra hot) and think about dissertations and crunchy leaves and autumn vibes!! 🍁🍂🍃☕️

i am already starting to feel the itch to finally write the last arc of that one night again, as soon as i finish the glorious, heart-consuming, soul-satisfying jelsa collab project with the gorgeously talented @callimara. ✨ and how beautiful it will be to finish this fic the same year as when i, personally, defend my dissertation???

could i have known back in 2012 that i would one day be wrapping up this mammoth of a fic 12 or so years later while finishing my own ph.d. program? (definitely low-key manifested my doctorate through this fic, i tell you 😂)

I’ve always wondered how you came up with that prompt and if you always had an idea of where you were going with it? And if you always knew it would be this big/long of a monster.

a monster, INDEED. 🤣

like at the center, it started as a series of micro-fic/drabbles/one-shots/single scenes occurring within the same AU! at that time in my life when i was first posting, i was wrapping up my undergrad, and transitioning to full-time work, so i didn't have a lot of time to write full-scale, plot-driven long!fic; however, in undergrad, i learned a very valuable lesson while attending one of our professional development trainings, which really proved to me the necessity of allowing myself time to dabble in creative hobbies like writing, even if i could only produce a little bit every day.

quick reminder and anecdote to PRIORITIZE and KEEP UP with your hobbies for your mental health (and the exact moment, 13 years ago, when i realized how truly important this really is):

at the life-changing professional development training, we learned strategies and framework-driven ideologies for how to spot concerns re: our residents' mental health, especially with the first-year college students who were in my building. at one point, the lecturer pointed out a fact that really resonated with me, based on my first three years of my undergrad:

in many cases, when a person moves to a new environment (new "life" or "lifestyle"), as is the case with many young adults moving to an independent college-based lifestyle and being on their "own" completely for the first time, the first things that "drop" from people's minds/behaviors/habits/lifestyles are their hobbies, especially if individuals associate their hobbies as part of their "old" lives or their "younger" selves.

i sat in the audience, totally shocked. "that's me??"

my middle/high school friends and i had been writing handwritten fanfiction to each other on fancy paper for christmas and birthdays for years (i still have all of them!!). i had written from age 11 to age 18 and then when i got to college i got so caught up in the "college life" (social life, academic work, parties, NEW hobbies), that i completely........ let go of writing creatively...... i hadn't even thought of fic in months.

that night, after the workshop, i went home and opened up FFNET for the first time in 3 years, and i read until like 3 in the morning. three months later, i got a comment on an OLD harry potter fic asking if i would ever update, and i posted a new chapter a few weeks later. 💕 and i have not stopped since! 😂

so the reason that stories like that one night and at the center exist is because i was trying my best to take the lesson to heart, to make sure i was always writing a little bit, all the time, (almost) every day. i started with an AU premise, i opened my tumblr askbox for prompts (in the case of that one night), i let myself imagine what kinds of scenarios could happen in this AU at this stage in the characters' development, and i thought of all the connections i could make between various characters/canon plot points/rapport-building between characters/backstories, and i wrote a little bit every day before and after work, and posted them pretty much immediately. 😂

the problem with cool thing about this kind of thought experiment, however, is that you end up accidentally creating rich, full, detailed mental landscapes and emotional contexts and goals and hopes and fears for the characters in them, and then before you know it a plot develops (and 14 more wild sub-plots appear!!!) and you're suddenly 100k 200k 300k words deep into the lives that you've constructed for these characters. 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣 and now you've accidentally created a full-length, long!fic over the past decade, with extensively detailed slice-of-life!worldbuilding by accident!

thank you so much for letting me know that you RE-read that one night! 😭😭😭😭😭💕💕💕😭😭😭💕💕 it really means a lot!

Also what drew you to the ship of Tahno and Korra?

why do you ship tahno/korra? (post from may 10, 2013!!)

i also ship other ships in lok (including korra/asami!) but tahnorra has always always had a special place in my heart! as you'll see in the post, i have always really loved this kind of character, characters like tahno are SO interesting to me, and i always love to think about their backgrounds, the ways and whys of and hows of who they are. i was really drawn to this ship even when they were "evenly-matched" (@evenly-matched) rivals, and then once he lost his bending i wanted to explore the idea of a proper redemption arc/personal growth in tahno. 🙏 and then after i got to know their characters better (i.e., my interpretations of them) from writing the break the ice series, i decided that it would be fun to get to know them in a context that i, myself, was hoping to explore in my real life. 😂 i started to write that one night when grad school (master's degree) was just a goal on my radar! i continued writing it while i got my first master's degree, and, although i'd known for 10+ years that i would one day get a PhD, i never actually expected to be completing the fic the same year (and getting tahno to get his bio swamp phd 😂) the same year that i would get my phd. 😂💕

But also how are you doing? How’s data collection and your summer going? Have you been doing anything fun lately? 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼 I hope you’re taking care of yourself!

thank you so much you thoughtful creature, you. 😭💕 I AM DOING SO WELL, THANK YOU. data collection is going really well (all the time i can't believe that i'm getting paid to DO THIS, to develop this RESERACH, to study this!!!) and i imagine I'll still be collecting new data through november, and finalizing my analysis and diss manuscript in december (gotta submit it for committee review by january 1st!!!), so it's about to be BUSY, haha!

this summer, i have really been grateful to make money, work on my fun projects, be grateful for the ins and outs of learning to be a homeowner, spending time with family and friends, and reflecting on the past four years of my phd program, and the year ahead. 🥹 it's been a calm summer! i was really leaning into this 'calm before the storm' and i'm so ready to get back into the swing of academia and finally complete this beautiful doctoral program experience and finally finish half a decade's (and more, honestly) worth of hard work. 🥹💕

I’m in the process of re-reading my fav of yours TON.

seriously, this means so much to me. 😭😭😭😭😭😭💕 THANK YOU SO SO MUCH. i hope you have an AMAZING DAY, and that you're ready for ton!!autumn!!! thank you for your patience, your support, and your thoughtful, lovely, lovely ask 🥹💕 ilu!

[venushasvixens]

Chapter 22. Truth and Trust - Life is but a Dream (Spike Spiegel x Reader)

Word Count: 3k 

Warning: angst 

[A/N] so this chapter wasn’t posted onto Tumblr until now (my bad). Enjoy!    

- 

Spike’s side of the bed was empty and cold.

You had recovered pretty well the last couple of weeks, now getting up and walking around on your own. It still ached, but you had managed. Just took some work and determination. Even so, you couldn’t remember one thing during your rest. There was no memory of how you got here. You came back into consciousness in the last few weeks, and it made you wonder.

What did you do during that time besides sleep?

People do crazy stuff when they’re in pain. The situation that pertained you to this thought was Spike. And Jet.

Every morning, you felt a soft kiss on your forehead and the sound of the door closing. Then in the middle of the night, the sound of a door closing, a kiss and the weight of Spike laying beside you. During the day, there was little talk. A communication of tracking bounties and where his location was. But that was it.

Jet was a tad different. He checked on you, asked how you were feeling. But when you asked about your beloved, he would shut the conversation down quickly.

“Out, as usual. Speaking of which, let me do a quick check in with him.” He would reply with a quick smile and a brisk walk out of the living area.

At first, you didn’t mind. In your state, more work had to be put in to keep the Bebop running and the crew alive. But as the days repeated, and the routine continued, you couldn’t help but feel…suspicious.

Of yourself, most of all, but of what you said or did. Spike didn’t take insults to heart that bad, instead having it bounce back with a fist or a witty comeback. Even if you did, you were still going to feel just as bad. If he was angry with you, you would want to know.

“That’s just the way he is, as long as I can remember.” Faye shrugged as you confided in her. “We are busy after all.”

“Yeah. But I can’t help but feel like I did something bad, you know?” You sat in the chair opposite her, watching as she filed her nails meticulously.

“You did get into a fight, that's bad. But not worthy of the silent treatment.” Faye assured you. “I’m sure its all fine and dandy. You’re probably just overthinking the whole thing.”

The footsteps from the kitchen alerted you as you saw Jet ascending the small steps with a mug and donut in hand. “You girls okay this morning?”

“Doing just fine.” Faye mumbled.

“I guess you can say so.” You replied, rubbing your head.

“Everything okay?” Jet questioned. “If you’re hungry, I can grab you a donut, don’t even have to get up-“

“Oh no, I’m okay.” You reluctantly said. “Just a little worried about Spike, that's all. Haven’t seen him at all today. Or much any day for a while.”

“Ah, okay.” Jet nodded slowly, slowly inching away from the living room and up the steps to the hull. “Well! He’s probably just fine. Matter of fact, I’ll call him up as soon as I’m up there, I’d have a moment or two. Scout’s honor, kid.”

You narrowed your eyes. Avoiding the conversation was the last nail in the coffin. “Sounds amazing. Thanks.”

You looked back at Faye, with a questioning glint in your eyes. She shared the same expression, pouting her lips as she delved into the same skeptical energy as you.

The rotating hull was still hard on your legs, giving no mercy. Wincing as you climb from the hull through the entrance to the bridge, your feet planted one by one on the other side. Letting the door shut behind you, you heard the shuffling of Jet’s footsteps as he investigated the noise.

“It’s just me.” You called out, clanking down one step at a time slowly. “Checking in thats all.”

You hissed as the final step put some pain in your leg. Jet turned his head to watch you. “Careful now, can’t be falling apart on me.”

“Too little, too late.” You gave a faint smile as you leaned against the console. Deep in his work, you watched as Jet clinked and snapped in whatever he was doing. Something to keep him busy, always. “How was it out there?”

He took a deep intake of breath. “I'd say the same as usual. Didn’t see any bad guys, sadly.”

“Ah.” You replied. “Give me another week and we won't have to worry about that.”

He nodded his head, still focused on the console board. “Sounds mighty fine.”

As usual, what dissipated your physical pain for the briefest of moments was the burning question at the back of your mind. “You’ve seen Spike today, right?”

“Yeah. Before sunrise.” Jet mumbled out, counting under his breath. You waited until he was finished so as to not interrupt him. In the midst of your suspicions, you still had respect.

“Did he say what he went out for?” You asked.

Jet shrugged. “Beats me.”

In the quietness of the bridge, you took a small stroll to the giant windows. Beaming in was warm light, tingling your exposed arms. A sense of calm before what you were going to ask.

“It's odd.”

“What’s that?” Jet replied nonchalantly, still focused.

“You and Spike are thick as thieves and he didn't tell you where he was going.” You stated, crossing your arms. “It’s suspicious.”

“Well, he does run off now and then. Always does when something is bothering him, or he’s feeling cooped up in this metal cage of ours.”

You nodded. Turning around, you looked down at Jet, who was just staring at the console board. No hand movements, no papers or screens open to work on. Even with his head down, you could see his gaze glaring right back at you.

“Okay.” You finally said. “I won’t keep you from your work. So sorry.”

You walked the opposite side of the console board, taking slow steps. It surely was going to be a pain trying to get out of here.

He nodded. “Be careful getting out- hey!”

The console board powered down, fading into a blank slate. Leaning yourself against the table, you watched a Jet grumbled and cursed under his breath.

“What do you know?”

Jet stood up straight. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You shook your head. “I’m not happy with that answer.”

You both were at a standoff, watching each other carefully. You could see in Jet’s eyes that he was aware. Very aware of your past. It wouldn’t have been so bad if you initially told them. But now that the whole crew was possibly being tracked down at this moment, this was going to be a problem.

And yet, he still didn’t say anything.

“I lied.” You breathed. “But how was I supposed to know that I was tracked? If I knew any sooner, I wouldn’t be here right now.”

“You did.” His shoulders dropped. The disappointment that echoed within you stung. This was the last thing you ever wanted to do to a person that gave you shelter when you needed it most. “But syndicate children make great sharpshooters.”

“He’s disappointed in me, isn’t he? That’s why I haven’t seen him at all.” You confirmed. “Doesn’t want to look at my face.”

“Yes he is. I can’t speak for Spike, but he needs…” Jet trailed off, sighing. “I don’t know what he needs.”

Walking right by Jet, you sat in a chair, contemplating your actions. “He told me all about it, the syndicate he was a part of. All of the stuff he did, the things he saw. I did the same.”

“But you didn’t tell him flat out.” Jet replied, raising his eyebrows. “You let it sit there all this time until something happened.”

“I did.”

You completely fucked up. You deserved to be called out on your shit, your deception to those who trusted you most. You didn't have the courage to even say anything back to Jet, and it was going to feel hard to after this. How badly you wanted to disappear. Or start over fresh, tell them flat out so that you could have avoided this situation.

Jet looked at you, and then at the windows of the bridge. “Hey.”

You glanced up at him with teary eyes.

“You see that spot over there?” He pointed to the main window, a bench planted across for a view. “Over there was the first time I had learned anything from him. Of Spike’s past. Before, he never said anything, not a damn word. Then when our life was turning to shit, it just came out.”

You saw as Jet remimence over the memory, his face deep into the thought. “In that moment, (Y/n), I knew. Your past should’ve defined you, but guided you. You are who you are now. You can’t allow yourself to keep living this lie, or it’ll get you killed.”

The shot that hit you sends waves of emotional calm over yourself. It was a different perspective of what you felt just minutes before. “And I think that's what's bothering him too. To see you go through the same thing he did, it's hurting him bad.”

Ah man, another dagger in the heart.

“If I need to go, tell me.”

“I’m not going to kick you out, kid. That’s the last thing I want to do.” Crossing his arms, Jet’s face softened. “Now I knew this conversation was going to happen sooner than later, and yes it does make me upset. But I am not that kind of person to do that. Now what I want you to do is to talk to him, hear him out.”

“You’re right.” You sniffled. “Even with a hit on your head you still want me here?”

He shrugged. “Had worse on me. For all we know, they may have given up on getting back at us.”

Shaking your head, you bit down on your lip. There was no way in heaven or hell that Jo was going to give up so easily on you. When she wanted to finish a job, it was going to get done regardless. This was going to get so much worse.

“Jo doesn’t give up. Without a doubt in my mind she is going to hunt us until the day she dies.” You felt defeated again. Everything that was together not even two weeks ago was now falling apart. Dumb to think that you can have some clarity in your life for once, you thought. “I really don’t know what to do.”

“(Y/n), you know this person inside and out. You’ve looked into her mind, you've done her deeds. So follow that path and get that brain of yours working.” Jet popped on you. In a sense, this is exactly what you needed. A shove back into reality instead of giving up. Your hole of despair had to be put on hold until you were going to figure out what to do. “To find the solution, you have to look at the pattern.”

You nodded. “I needed that, thank you. But what am I looking for?”

“What you seek. What you've always been looking for.” Jet turned the console back on and refreshed the holo computer. “Use this, it's faster than what I’m using.”

Taking this new opportunity in your hands, you sat in the chair and began searching away. You opened the file that contained everything that Jet had accumulated over the time you were knocked out.

“What did you think of my shades?” You pulled up a picture of yourself.

“Think they look rather cool, real cool.” Jet flashed you a smile, reassuring you of your place on the Bebop, and a bonafide hunter in the system.

- 

Spike set the Swordfish on cruise, debating on if he should bring himself back to the Bebop or not. His fingers hung loosely around the handlebars, and flexed them lightly. He still hadn’t made up his mind. He did forgive you, silently. And in his mind, not out loud or to your face.

Why was this so hard?

He wasn’t good at apologies or sentimental thoughts that were spoken. It was a “sorry” or “my bad”, and they just accepted it as it was. That was the most people could get out of him. But when it comes to forgiveness? It was an easy option to move on and forget it all happened. This was different.

You both weren’t that different, either. You were both songs of the same tune. Was it because he thought he knew everything about you, and now he didn’t, or that you lied until it was too late..? Christ, he didn’t know.

He sighed in frustration as he circled the airspace once again. As usual when he went missing, an occasional transmission from Jet would come every so often. Even if he was mad at Spike, he still had to make sure the angry bastard was still okay. Common courtesy, no matter what.

The last transmission was in the afternoon, a little after two o’clock. But the sky had dimmed well into evening, and there was the faintest bit of light. Nothing from Jet. Or from you.

No transmission from you.

That puts a greater stress on the situation. Did you know that he knows? If he were to return to the Bebop, what would he be coming back to, he thought. Hoping for a calm approach was out of the question had it involved Faye, so this could be different. Tense, but speaking bluntly and calmly. He just want reassurance, quiet, peaceful-

Transmission incoming. The tag read from you.

Spike’s stomach leaped. The beeps grew loud as he contemplated accepting the message. His hand hovered over, quietly debating. Finally, he pressed the button to accept.

“Yo.” It was all he could say.

You cleared your throat. “Hi.” It wasn't hard to hear the emotion you tried to hide in your voice. “Where are you?”

“Umm, I’m out. Somewhere close, though.”

The pause was great.

“Can we talk when you get back?”

“Yes.” Spike answered immediately.  

“Yes?” You replied to Spike, in a way relieved that he was wanting to talk to you. It had gnawed at you for the entire day, and you were so ready to get it over with.

“Uh-huh.” He hummed, hearing the roar of his engine as it accelerated back to the ship. “See you soon.”

You cut the transmission before you could say “I love you.” Didn’t seem appropriate right now, even though you wanted to say it so bad. It hurt to not say it to Spike.

After your confession to Jet, you had been on and off crying thinking of all that had transpired. Your fears came back to one hurtful possibility, and that was separating yourself from Spike.

The tears that poured from your eyes could’ve made oceans and lakes. As best he could, Jet passed you tissues any time a sniffle or hiccup of sadness came from your direction. How long that Spike had known, and was letting it fester inside. Reminding yourself of being responsible for it, it only made you cry even more. But it was your mind that was made up that hurt the most. The many plans you had made when Jet wasn’t looking.

What made this all worse was the research you did make.

Locations, names. All were at your fingertips. Something had to be done about it. But in your busy head, there wasn’t a clear answer as to what to do.

He was going to see you soon. He was going to be here. In front of you, to talk about it. Now it was time to wait a bit more, until the judgment was to come.

- 

As Spike closed the door to the rotating hull, Jet was waiting opposite.

“I have someone waiting on me.” Spike said as he walked off.  

“Sure, but I need to tell you something before you do.” Jet replied, still planted where he was. Stopping, Spike listened.

“I had never seen a girl so in love with someone before until I talked to (Y/N) today. Never experienced it, and probably never will. There’s a lot to lose. Remember that.”

Spike couldn’t walk off fast enough. Even when he was lied to, how fast he wanted to be in your arms and melted into you. But he couldn’t. There was a truth that needed to be shared.

Grabbing the handle of the door to the bridge, he pushed it to the side and stepped in. The illumination from the console lit the bridge, with no other light source. Walking slowly, he gazed longingly at the outline of you looking out into the city. Your soft hair, the curve of your shoulders and hips. He could see you.

His heel clicked against the metal as he took another step. You turned quickly, worried eyes resting on the source of the noise. Finally, he stopped in front of you, hands in pockets.

“I..I need to explain myself.”  

Spike eyes honed in on your down appearance. It wasn’t hard to notice your puffy eyes or red nose. “Okay.”

“I wasn’t honest with you. I lied about who I really was, and my life.” You began. “There shouldn’t be an excuse at all. And..and I think I did it to get away from it all, that way of living. Had I known it would’ve gotten to this point, I would have never..”

You threw your arms around, gesturing to the ship as a whole.

“Every second I spent there was a what if. What if I was going to die today, what if I lost my place with Jo. It was going to kill me if I didn’t leave.” You muttered, wincing at the memory. “Before she could do anything, I left.”

The image of your daring escape from the clutches of Red Jack’s flooded back into your mind. Early morning, with a small wallet full of credits and the clothes on your back. The breeze on your face as your feet carried you to the nearest transport station. An alias given, and finally, out of Yun and away from Mars.

While floating with many other souls in space, you remembered your tears of relief. Absolutely free. You could breathe again without question of loyalty or argument.

Just when you were out, you were pulled right back in.

“Dammit, I should’ve told you. I should’ve told you sooner.” You repeat yourself, holding your body closely. “I’m so sorry, Spike. I truly am.”

At this point, you couldn’t hold in your tears at all. How pathetic you looked, blubbering mess begging for forgiveness. You were beyond terrified of losing his love, losing him. You didn’t want the one good thing that has ever happened to you in your life to leave you.

Through dim lights, you could feel his eyes gaze into you. “S-say something, please.” You begged. Please, I can’t stand this silence.

“You’re right. You should’ve told me from the beginning.” Spike began. “But its…understandable.”

You nodded softly.

“You’re the only person I ever really told about who I was before this.” He said lowly. “Why couldn’t you just tell me?”

“A-at the time, I was living low. Or so I thought.” You mumbled. “I really thought they had forgotten all about me. Who they were looking for didn’t exist anymore. She was just a thing of the past.”

“And they still found her.”

You sat defeated in the double seat at the head of the bridge. “I didn’t try hard enough to disappear.”

Spike sat next to you, keeping a short distance. “You didn’t. But how else was I supposed to see you?”

You huffed softly. It surprised you. In a moment where you thought you were about to lose everything, how simple a sentence could wipe that feeling away.

“If I put a different spotlight on, it would be easier.” You replied back. “Could’ve revealed who I really was sooner.”

“But this is you.”

You glanced at Spike, shaking your head. “No. Its not.”

How you looked in the mirror at yourself after a “situation” that had to be dealt with with Red Jack’s. Many times this would happen. Blood splattered on your face, gun still hot in your holster. Eyes blank as you stared at yourself. The face of an enforcer, a killer. Judge and executioner.

That who you felt you really were.

You felt two soft hands gently nudge your body. Turning you to face him, Spike’s hold on you was still. You didn’t know what was about to happen. You didn’t want to know what he was going to say. It was going to hurt either way.

“Whoever you think is the real you, it isn’t. People change, (Y/N). Sometimes for the better. You took the bigger step to leave the life you thought you knew. It’s hard to do. Most can’t come to terms with the thought.” He stated, voice low. “But you did.”

You nodded.

“I wasn’t honest either with Jet. I wanted to keep what I was a secret, out of sight and mind.” He confessed. “I think that’s why I’m not as upset. It's because I’ve been down the road and I did the same thing. Hypocritical of me to judge.”

“Its going to be hard to forgive me.”

Spike shook his head. “I already have forgiven you. But I need you to listen to me.” His hands trailed from your arms to the frame of your face, allowing you to see him. “I need to trust you. You need to trust me. If we are going to make this work, it has to be that way. No more secrets or lies.”

“No more secrets or lies.” You repeated back, taking Spike’s words to your head, cementing it deep to never forget. “I really don’t want to lose you.”

“You never will.” He replied, kissing your forehead softly. His lips lingered, sending another bout of relief throughout your body. “I love you.”

“I love you more.” You sighed, placing your hand over his.

You both sat on the bridge for an eternity. Silent, except the deep thumps of your hearts beating and a shuffle as you made yourself comfortable in Spike’s arms. There was nothing spoken, but it wasn’t awkward. Nothing needed to be said. Spike held on as tightly as you did.

Your head rested on Spike’s chest. The future brought uncertainty. It still plagued your mind. In the moment where you should’ve felt safe, a pang of dread was in your side. You had to protect your new home somehow. Your home was Spike, but it wasn’t only him.

It was Jet.

It was Faye.

It was Ein and Ed.

You looked up at Spike, not surprised to see the man you loved deep in thought. Was he thinking the same thing as you? Your plan that you put on the backburner was set aflame once more. This home you have, the one you prayed and begged for, was going to be fought until the end. Seeing it, you would give anything to keep it safe.

“Spike?”

“Hmm?”

“If something happens, are you with me? By my side?”

You felt the intake of breath from Spike.

“Until the very end. I’ll always be with you.”