#IM FINALLY FREE OF THIS THUNDER NIGHTMARE | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kiriiqt · 2 years ago

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In the meantime with the Diluc fic, would you happen to have any spare Scara headcanons?

SPOILER WARNING FOR 3.2

Like how he reacts to seeing reader taking care of him when he wakes up after losing the gnosis? That was a LONG fall and it looked like he landed on his head, so he was probably knocked unconscious. (RIP his hat) Or tbh any general hc's you have for him if this is too specific! Thank you so much for sharing your hard work with us!

taking care of scaramouche after his fall

- scaramouche is surprised to wake up in one piece, but he's even more surprised to see you there taking care of him.

characters: scaramouche x reader a/n: thank you so much for requesting! and no worries about being too specific, it actually helps me out. fun fact; scary is one of my favorite characters so I have a lot of spare headcanons about him. as always, feel free to request again if I misunderstood anything. also, this dragged out im so sorry. warnings: kinda angsty, descriptions of illness, sleep paralysis, an attempt at slow buildup of a relationship. some beta, we cling on like signora simps do.

I kept it vague as to what you and Scaramouche were before the Sumeru Arc, but you two did know each other, and you were working against him somehow.

Scaramouche spends a long time out of it. He’s not exactly had an easy life, and artificial god-form or not, the gnosis probably did a number on his body and mind - especially when it was taken away. Even with Nahida’s care, his body is incredibly weak, and he’s being plagued by nightmares and horrible memories. He’s essentially as weak and defenseless as a newborn child, and when he finally wakes up, he has to come to terms with the fact that he needs to start over. Again.

You and Scaramouche don't acknowledge each other for a while; His pride has taken a serious beating, and part of him refuses to believe that you're willingly taking care of him. He's sure it's a ploy of sorts, to put him in debt to you, one he couldn't possibly pay off - not that he's planning to. Meanwhile, you're twisting your own thoughts; truthfully, you pity him, but the constant reminder of what he's done in his lifetime - puppet or not - is washing over you like an incoming storm, and not even Nahida's words can alleviate that form of guilt.

You two get into a routine; you make sure he eats, drinks and sleeps, you put him through the rehabilitation program Nahida made, and you keep quiet every morning when his eyes are red and face is swollen from crying. You don't call out his poor excuses, and you don't ask for anything in return for your care. Scaramouche doesn't thank you anyway - at best he scoffs at you, glaring as if you were the one to take his gnosis. Most of the time, he's zoned out - pretending you're not there at all.

A few weeks pass by, and he's finally capable of walking by himself again - his mood seems better, and he's not on the verge of passing out just from crossing the room anymore. He's been outside again, although only on the balcony, but it's improvement, and he thinks so as well. You don't mention it, but it's obvious in the way his lips curl, and the way his eyes light up when the wind brushes past him. It makes a small smile break through your own frown. Still, recovery can be cruel with its ups and downs - and the world wouldn't let you forget that.

It takes a flare up - a bad one - for Scaramouche to finally acknowledge you. Waking up, he's thrown from one nightmare into another, his limbs paralyzed and eyes wide open, hot, searing pain pierces through him like hellfire, and for a second he thinks he's dying. He wants to scream, he needs to, but his throat feels raw and he can't move. His stomach churns at the sight of the world around him distorting, comforting green color bleeding into hues of red and purple; shapes breaking free from the chaos, faces he can recognize, voices he can recognize, pounding on his head like thunder strikes. And then - it stops.

You're gently shaking him awake, placing a cold cloth on his head and explaining something about another fever, but your words barely reach him. Your voice does, though; and while his head still feels as if it's being pounded against a wall, body engulfed in pain, you somehow pulled him out of that waking nightmare. And by the Archons, has he never been more fucking grateful to you in his life.

Still, he can't do anything; the pain overwhelms his senses, and closing his eyes feels like falling into a dark pit, spinning rapidly, and nausea washes over him again. He's not sure how much time passes, but it feels like an eternity - until, eventually, the pain stops.

Four days, you tell him. The flare up lasted four days; a high fever, but he's experienced it before. Part of him is thankful for not remembering it. You then tell him that it wasn't his first time experiencing sleep paralysis, either; and he wonders just how many times you've seen him like this. You shake your head when asked, another frown on your face. He decides not to pry.

You turn to leave, conversation seemingly over, but stop briefly when he utters a meek "Thanks". So quiet you could miss it, and part of him honestly hopes you did. He doesn't get a reply - but you leave with a small smile on your face.

From then on, things seem to improve between the two of you. It starts awkwardly. Scaramouche, or, Wanderer, as he asks you to call him for the time being, isn’t one to open up, and you’re not too keen on the idea of rambling about your days, when most of them are spent taking care of him or helping the traveler, with very little time left for yourself. Still, you manage to chat somehow - going from smalltalk, to Cyno’s bad jokes, to icebreakers that Nahida suggests - until eventually, conversation flows naturally between the two of you. You begin to bring him out of the sanctuary - in disguise, of course - and on those walks that get longer and longer the better he feels, there is little to do but chat about your lives. You get to experience what he’s like normally, and although he acts like a little shit, it’s nice to see him look a little more alive than he did before.

Nahida still has him under strict supervision, but as long as you’re with him, he’s fine to go out. Well, it could be anyone, really, but Dehya and him are at eachothers throats within minutes, Nilou simply refuses to be near him, and he’s told both Al Haitham and Cyno to go suck it one too many times (and that's among the nicer things he’s said to them). So, he always ends up with you, and you pretend to ignore the self-satisfied smirk that's on his face anytime someone comes dragging him your way. You also pretend to ignore the laugh Nahida is holding back at his antics.

Wanderer becomes a constant presence in your life; always bugging you to give him attention, to do something with him, and most of the time, it ends up with you dragging him off before he accidentally breaks the law (or insults Al Haitham…again). Though, you notice that he’s oddly nice to children and the elderly - not above helping either out, and one time you even saw him playing peek-a-boo with a kid while waiting for you. It made you smile, but you didn’t miss how quiet he got when the mother laughed and picked up the girl, telling her to bid him farewell. The same evening, he wordlessly hugs you, and tells you about his own mother. For a few hours, you two sit together, hidden away from the world for a while.

He’s quickly back to normal, but you somehow feel that you’ve gotten closer. It shows in the way his gaze softens when looking at you, and how his hand occasionally finds yours when no one is looking. You see it in Nahida’s knowing smile, and in how Dehya rolls her eyes, but sends a wink your way when Wanderer looks away. He’s become more protective as well, you notice, as he’s quick to step in to defend you in even the smallest of scuffles. You can’t resist teasing him about it sometimes, and the blush on his face when he tries to deny it with his entire being is one of the best things you’ve ever seen.

Over time, he’s made himself home in your accommodations, and your heart, and while dealing with his antics and taking care of him is difficult, you’d be lying if you said that you wanted him out. You don’t mind holding him through the occasional flare ups, or picking him up on days when he’s so weak that he collapses, and you make sure to tell him this when he seems to doubt it.

One day, it’s suspiciously quiet in your house, and for a second you’re afraid that he’s run off; but relief washes over you when you see him sitting by your desk, looking at something in his hand. You approach him, and glance over his shoulder to see…a vision. A shining, green gemstone, with an anemo symbol in the middle - somewhere in the back of your mind, you recall Venti’s laugh, and think back on the day on the balcony when Wanderer finally managed to walk that far. How the wind immediately picked up, as if to welcome him back. He’s inspecting it, lost in thought, as his eyes glide over the symbol, and the gold casing around it - the decoration that indicates where the wielder is from. His gaze seems to get stuck on it - teeth worrying at his bottom lip, and you glance down, concerned about what it could mean for him. But, to your relief, the gold isn’t shaped in the style of an Inazuman vision, or a Snezhnayan one; it resembles a leaf, or a teardrop; the one that so many of your friends from Sumeru carry. He snaps out of his daze when you place a hand on his shoulder, smiling down at him; and his expression softens with a sigh.

“I wonder… is this just another way of tying me to a God?”

His voice comes out meek, and you exhale slowly, choosing your next words carefully.

“...How much do you know of the Anemo Archon?”

“Tsk, just that he’s a lazy Archon who practically abandoned his people under the guise of freedom.”

Both of you pause, with you deep in thought, and him glaring at the vision in front of him.

“Well, we could argue all day if it’s abandonment or freedom - but from what I know, he cares about his people, and if anyones really in need, he does interfere. He doesn’t just leave all to suffer”.

Wanderer scoffs, throwing a glare your way. Still, he doesn’t speak for a while, so your words did get to him, you figure. You lean against the wall next to the desk, crossing your arms, gaze falling on the faintly pulsating vision.

Wanderer breaks the silence again. “What does freedom really mean though, when demanded of you by a God?”

Those words sounds familiar, you realize, as you ponder his question. You glance out the window, humming, while he looks at you expectantly. His eyebrows knit together in an offended look when a small smile pulls at the corners of your lips, and he opens his mouth to spew an insult, but you interrupt him.

“I think this means that the ball is in your court. You can take it, use the new power granted to you, and start anew, if you’re ready…” Pushing yourself off the wall, you pick up the vision and turn it in your hand “...or, you can leave it. Entirely behind, or just on the shelf, for another day.”

He looks up at you again, as you slide the vision into his hand with a smile.

“But, I think that the fact that it’s here is enough of a sign already. So what will it be, Wanderer?”

#fics #idk how I feel about this but I hope you guys like it #there was an attempt at character development here #scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader #scaramouche genshin impact #genshin impact #genshin oneshot #genshin headcanons #scaramouche oneshot

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kelp-my-beloved · 2 years ago

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More Empires fic recs

It's me again. This are a few of my favourite empires fics in ao3, this time multichaptered edition. This are all completed, both from s1 and s2, and in no particular order. Fics under the readmore, enjoy!

Four Reasons Why I'm Broken (And Why That's Okay), by Useless_Bisexual123: "False is paranoid. False has memory problems. False doubts herself. False gets nightmares. But maybe, just maybe, that's alright."

Rating: T Archive Warnings: GDV Chapters: 3/3 Words: 7384

This was one of the first fics I read about Empires!False, and Im absolutely in love with her characterisation in here. She's tired, stressed, and I love her for this. The writting is so good too, and before I realised I had read the entire thing in one sitting. Also, Lizzie is here, and every paragraph she's in had me either dying in laughter or was just too cute. Just. I love this.

Shifting Perspective, by @scribbling-dragon: "Shapeshifters are shunned, pushed away from the light they helped to diminish. Their God retreated as they were outcast, disappearing into shadows that had only just appeared. Yet, they whisper that He is still present in the crackling of lightning and rumbling of thunder. His luck never seemed to hold firm, he's rather certain that Luck themselves holds a grudge against him at this point. And, as Luck would have it, he's been cursed with the gift, and truly, who could have been more suited to it than the Ruler of Rivendell? (Literally anyone else, is the answer you're looking for.)"

Rating: T Archive Warnings: GDV Chapters: 25/25 Words: 112658

So, this one is I think the most popular in the list, and it's probably you've seen it around if you spend at least half as much time as I do in the ao3 fandom tag, but oh my god. It deserves every good thing. I know this is a long read but it's absolutely worth it. I read it while the last chapters were still coming out, A While ago, and it still lives in my head rent free. I wish it a lot of extra kudos.

fill your lungs, by rabbit_with_a_sword: "When Sausage collapses, finally unable to hide the side affects from being resurrected, Gem and fWhip have to scramble to prevent him from being drawn back into the Spirit Realm and face the consequences of his escape. But there's more to Sausage than he likes to show, and he didn't escape intact…"

Rating: T Archive Warnings: CCNTU Chapters: 12/12 Words: 18504

This fic somehow manages to be so hilarious and made me have so many feelings at the same time. A chapter would update and I would spend the rest of the week worrying about my poor blorbo. But also, the lore behind it is top noch, there are so many details that made want to point at them and shout my thoughts. I may or may not have gone a little bit crazy over them, but keeping my sanity was never an option.

Tabula rasa, by @capriciouswriter207: "tabula rasa: the mind in its hypothetical primary blank or empty state before receiving outside impressions -- Sausage wakes up in bed. It’s pleasant. He stares at the ceiling. He doesn’t move. He doesn’t think. He doesn’t do anything. He just exists. (or: the fight with a certain wizard saves him from the corruption, but it leaves him in an extremely vulnerable state)"

Rating: T Archive Warnings: CCNTU Chapters: 27/27 Words:31097

This one was finished recently, and I was not ready to let it go. If I'm forced to say only one thing about it, is how much I enjoyed the way it was written, specially going back to the beggining after reading the end. This made me feel A Lot Of Feelings, and I really couldn't recomend it enough.

Obligatory Notes:

I did my best to tag the writers, but there are a few that I couldn't find, if they have a tumblr. If you know one I've missed, please let me know!

Also, feel free to add your own recs! I want to read them!

More recs but this ones are one-shots

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brax-was-here · 4 years ago

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Scarlet Briar: The Seeds of Life Chapter 1

Written by: Braxxus

Chapter 1: Just Walk Away From It

Sometimes we try to change the past

The fresh air of the Brisban Wildlands greeted Ceara as she exited the waypoint beam in the sylvari village at Zinder’s Slope. The warm environment was welcoming compared to the frigid cold she had just experienced at the Durmond Priory. The pleasant smells of the village greeted her nose, which she breathed deep. The sounds of the forest filled her ears, a stark contrast to the deathly silence of the halls of the priory. She looked over the surroundings. Citizens of the village going about their daily lives, paying no mind to her. Unhooking the clasp of her cloak, she started walking up the gentle incline of the hillside towards Amaranda’s home.

“Home…” she thought to herself as she looked at the small sylvari structure at the top of the hill. She thought back to the years spent travelling around in her life, never settling in one place for very long. Until dark times took control of her. She paused her ascent, taking a moment to look out over the river that ran nearby. Her thoughts drifted to those months living in the damp cave under the Durmond Priory.

“I never thought I would ever have a home.” She said quietly to herself as she looked down at the dirt path. She kicked at a small stone that lay in front of her.

“Come home, my child.” the voice of the Pale Tree drifted through her mind.

“Mother…” she whispered.

“It’s time for you to come home.” The voice of the Aspect thundered through her memory. She closed her eyes, her brow furrowing at the thought.

“No…” she thought to herself, forcing the image of her ghostly doppelganger from her mind. She sighed and continued up the path.

“There, there. Now, you’ll grow stronger.” Amaranda spoke softly to one of the plants outside of her home. Tending to their needs, nurturing them gently when she noticed Ceara coming up the path.

“The prodigal daughter as returned.” she spoke softly to herself as she smiled lightly. She went inside and started gathering together a bowl of fruits and getting a container of juice ready. She placed them on a low table as Ceara entered the home. The pleasant smell of lavender greeted Ceara’s nose as she stepped through the threshold.

“Welcome home. Any news from the Priory?” Amaranda asked.

“Nothing new.” Ceara replied removing her cloak and hanging it on a nearby hook. She sat on a small stool and removed her boots, stretching out her legs before kneeling at the table. “They said that…since the demise of Mordremoth, activity in the blade had diminished but they still keep it heavily warded.” She plucked a strawberry from the bowl. Amaranda poured a leafy cup full of juice and set it front of Ceara before sitting across from her sister.

“Do you think…Do you think it gone?” Amaranda asked grabbing an orange from the bowl and slicing it open.

“I don’t think so. I could still feel it while I was there. It was trying to break free, but it’s severely weakened. The asura cutting it off from any energy source really did damage to it.”

“Well, I hope it stays that way. I would hate to think what would happen if it got out again.” Amaranda started cutting the orange into slices.

Ceara stared out of the front door, watching a pair of dragonflies dance around a small bush just outside. She slowly chewed on the strawberry as she thought about Amaranda’s book in the Priory. Amaranda looked up at her sister, realizing she was lost in thought.

“What’s on your mind?” Amaranda finally asked after a few moments. Ceara turned back to her, staring at her somewhat blankly.

“Well?” Amaranda asked, taking a bite of one of the orange slices.

“Tell me about Malyck.” Ceara finally said taking a drink from her cup.

“Malyck? Why?”

“I’m just curious, is all. What was he like?”

Amaranda sighed as she remembered the strange sylvari Trahearne had brought to her. A sylvari not of the Pale Tree, but another tree. A sylvari with no connection to the Dream nor Nightmare.

“He was an enigma, to say the least. Not a sylvari like us. Different. No connection to the Dream. His pod was found just up the river actually. A pod from another tree possi-“ Amaranda paused as she looked at her sister, who was smiling impishly.

“What are…” Amaranda paused a moment. “No!” she snapped sternly when she realized what Ceara was thinking.

“What?”

“No!”

“Why not!?”

“I am not going to help you look for him or some other tree!”

“But why not!?’

“I’ve had enough adventure recently to last a lifetime!”

“But it will be fun!”

“Remind me to discuss your definition of ‘fun’ sometime, Ceara.”

“Oh, come on. Do you just want to stay here for the rest of your life? Live a little!”

“I am living. And I don’t consider travelling right into the front yard of our creator ‘fun’. You’ve heard about the creatures roaming around in the jungle. Some of them were sylvari at one time.”

“But Mordremoth is dead. There’s nothing that we couldn’t handle. Look what we did in Lion’s Arch.”

“Yes, and it could have killed us. No thank you.”

“Feh!” Ceara spat.

“How about finding someone to settle down with. To spend your time peacefully enjoying a quiet life with someone else?’

“Well there is-“

“Someone not named Lord Faren.” Amaranda spoke bluntly.

Ceara looked at her sister somewhat perturbed. “He’s a fine man!” she rebuttled.

Amaranda looked at her, a look of disbelief on her face before snorting a small laugh.

“Really?” Ceara shot back at her. Amaranda shook her head.

“Dear sister…you have much to learn.” She said with a smile on her face.

“’You have much to learn.’” Ceara repeated, snidely mocking her sister. Amaranda laughed as she finished her orange.

“I’m leaving in the morning to travel into the jungle.” Ceara said abruptly

Amaranda looked up at her. “You’re seriously going to look for this other tree? It’s not even known if it exists. And even worse, if it does exist, we don’t know if Mordremoth attacked it as he attacked mother. It may be full of his creatures now.”

“Well, that’s what I’m going to find out.”

Amaranda sighed, as she took a sip of her juice, shaking her head lightly. “I know I can’t stop you. But…just…be careful. Make sure your waypoint device is working.”

“Aren’t I always?” Ceara asked with a smile. Amaranda slowly shook her head as she gently set her cup on the table.

The sun was rose slowly in the morning sky as Ceara arrived at the waypoint furthest west for which she had coordinates. She exited the beam near an area in the far southwest part of the wildlands dubbed “Tangle Root”. Most likely due to the fact that the area is believed to be where Mordremoth had managed to break through and spread his influence throughout Tyria. The dry air gave a hint of where she was heading. A slight shudder went down her spine as she saw the remains of Mordremoth’s large vines protruding from the limestone ridges that surrounded the area.

“You were my champion.” The jungle dragon’s voice rumbled through her mind. Closing her eyes, she focused the memory away. She breathed deep before slowly opening them. It would still take her a day to get through the chasm filled borderlands between the wildlands and the desert wastes of Maguuma. She had decided to stop by the small mining town of Prosperity to check to see if any of the things she left behind were still there.

“This would have been so much easier with my old transporter.” She thought to herself. She had left it behind when she moved her operations from the cave in Lornar’s Pass to the Breachmaker. “I guess the Priory has it now.” She wondered. “Or that little asuran girl with the crooked walk.” Her brow furrowed at the thought.

The Seraph outpost near the edge of the canyon that would lead her to the Dry Top region of the wastes was quiet. Two guards manned the perimeter. Her thoughts drifted back to the first time she had passed through this area as she approached.

“Im just passing through to the desert regions. I’m going to study the plants that live there! I’ve heard they are so much different than anything I’ve seen here!” she happily lied to the Seraph that were stationed at the outpost at the time, covering up her true reason for heading into the desert. To this day she still wasn’t sure if that was a lie she made up as her own or if it was brought forth by the Aspect that was residing in her mind in those dark days. The outpost seemed lightly manned. Just a few troops scattered about going about their mundane tasks.

“Hopefully, this works.” She thought to herself as she opened a small panel on one of her gauntlets and pressed a tiny, illuminated button. She was enveloped in a light bending field that caused her to turn seemingly invisible. She quickened her pace as she knew the field would not last long.

The hours passed by as she made her way through the twisting canyon. She rarely saw a Seraph patrol, and when she did, she was able to easily hide and get passed them. A few travellers were also passing through the canyon as well.

“This was a bandit route in the past. I guess the rise of Mordremoth changed things.” She thought to herself. Midday had come and gone, and the walls of the canyon had started to change. She recognized the vines that were weaving throughout the limestone rock. She approached one slowly, cautiously reaching out and placing her hand upon it. The outer skin dried and fragile, broke and splintered at her touch. She slowly closed her fingers, digging them into the dried vine, pieces of it splintering in her grip as her hand closed into a fist. A feeling of anger was forming in the pit of her stomach, as a tear rolled down her cheek.

“This thing. This took control of me. This is what drove me to madness…” Her angered scream echoed through the canyon as she smashed both of her fists down, shattering the section of vine, sending shards in all directions. She choked back the tears as she cleared her thoughts. She stood in silence for a moment, her breathing heavy as she calmed herself.

“I’m sure someone heard me.” She thought as she looked into the distance, down the path her journey was taking her.

The hours rolled on. The sun was low in the sky as Ceara neared the western end of the canyon. Soon the desert expanse of Dry Top would stretch out in front of her as the path curved slightly northward. As the mouth of the canyon gave way to the arid desert, she paused at the scene that lay before her.

“The Zephyrites?” she thought to herself as she gazed upon the wreckage of the Zephyrite airship. Its structure strewn across the desert, twisted and broken like a pile of twigs she would find in Caledon Forest. Off in the far distance, she could make out the small buildings of the town of Properity. Dimly lit windows dotted the dark face of the far cliffs. She took a drink of water from her canteen before making her way down the pathway along the cliff face.

“What happened here?” She thought to herself as she surveyed the wreckage during her decent. As the pathway emptied out at the bottom of the cliff, she felt uneasy as parts of the airship slowly creaked and groaned in the desert breeze. Not even the smallest of animals were to be seen throughout the crash site.

“Did… was this Mordremoth’s doing?” she pondered quietly to herself. She paused a moment. “If it was…then…” Her heart sank. She closed her eyes a moment before taking a deep breath. “I…I can’t think about this now.” She continued moving through the wreckage. She took note of possible remains of footprints in the sand around large pieces of the destroyed structure.

“Someone survived, I guess. Or bandits. Looks like some asura as well. Also, I haven’t seen any of their special crystals.” She glanced at the sun, which was dipping below the far cliffs.

“The wind is picking up. Maybe a sandstorm blowing in.” She thought. She pulled her scarf up, covering the lower half of her face and placed her goggles over her eyes. Lastly, she pulled the hood of her cloak up.

“I may not make it to the town in time.” She thought as she quickly scanned the wreckage for anything to make a temporary shelter. Grabbing some broken beams and some battered panels, she managed to fashion a small shelter against an alcove in a pile of nearby boulders. She quickly grabbed more materials to help reinforce it against the blowing wind.

“I guess I’m staying the night here. Not what I had planned at all.” She said to herself as she closed the makeshift door, securing it behind her as the wind buffeted the small building.

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The mid-morning sun shone brightly over Properity, a small mining town that also acts as a waystation for travelers passing through the Maguuma Wastes. The towns inhabitants were going about their daily routines. Some heading towards the mine to work, others taking care of business around the town. A particular duo was busily leaning against the town well when they noticed a familiar sylvari approaching. They watched as she crossed one of the bridges over the river of quicksand that helped to protect the town from danger.

“Is that…is that who I think it is?” the asura spoke to his charr compatriot.

“I…I think so. Never thought we would see her again.” The charr replied.

“I hope she doesn’t want to see her place. Think she’s gonna be a tad upset when she sees what that crew did to it.” The asura said, taking a sip of his whiskey.

Ceara paused while crossing the bridge into Prosperity. She could see remains of Mordremoth’s giant thorned vines sticking out of the cliff walls surrounding the northern part of the town.

“It’s amazing they survived him.” She thought to herself. She continued across the bridge, immediately noticing a waypoint beacon set up nearby.

“Well that’s very convenient.” She smiled to herself as she pulled out her waypoint device and calibrated it. She then turned and started walking to the building where she lived for a time. She paused when she saw the duo at the well gawking at her.

“Those two…still standing in the same place the last time I was here…” she said, squinting at them. “They must have grown roots by now.” She shook her head and approached the room she called home for a while. She paused several feet away, looking at the door that had been blown off its hinges.

“Someone set off the trap…” she thought to herself. Cautiously stepping inside, the pit of her stomach sank. The room was completely empty. All her things were gone.

“Well, I should have guess something like this would have happened.” she said to herself. Sighing, she stepped through the hole in the far wall into the cavern beyond. She illuminated a small light from her satchel and cautiously descended the wooden stairway into the cave. A lot of things were still there. Random parts of asura tech, broken odds and ends that she had no use for. Everything that was of any value to her in those days was gone.

“Thorns!” she spat. She climbed back up the makeshift stairs and exited out of the room. Spying the duo at the well, she started marching over to them.

“Uh-oh.” The charr grunted.

“Um…turn around. Act like you didn’t see her.” The asura sputtered. The pair turned and started walking away.

“OH my! You actually don’t have roots!” Ceara shouted. “Now, I have a question and I think you two know the answer!”

The pair started quickening their pace, but Ceara caught up to them, grabbing the asura by the collar.

“Don’t hurt me! It wasn’t us!” he screamed. The charr turned to find the barrel of Ceara’s pistol in his face.

“Whoa! Whoa! We didn’t do anything!” the charr stammered.

“What happened to my things!?” Ceara barked.

“Look! It wasn’t us. It was some other group! An asuran girl. With some humans. And a charr and a norn! They destroyed the door to your place and the asuran girl had a krewe come in and move everything out.”

“And you didn’t stop them?”

“Why should we!? They were heavily armored and carrying around big weapons!”

“Heavy armored…” Ceara thought for a moment. “You said a norn and charr? And some humans?”

“Yes.”

“Was the charr a female? With funny looking eyes? And the asuran girl? Did she have a crooked walk?”

“Um…yeah”

“And the humans… two women, one with dark hair and wearing dark armor, and the other looking like a princess?”

“Yeah. They came in here asking a bunch of questions about you and what you were doing here.” Ceara let the asura go and holstered her pistol.

“What I was…” Ceara thought back to those dark days.” “Oh no…oh no!” she exclaimed; her eyes wide. She bolted back to her room. Darting through the cave, she quickly found the exit that led into a canyon that would take her to a place she had not seen in a very long time.

Ceara journeyed through the canyons of Dry Top as fast as she could hoping to find the cavern where she first found and studied leylines. She didn’t know what lay waiting for her there, only that she had to stop anyone from using that machine.

“That infernal device.” Her mind drifted back to that fateful day.

“At long last I’m going to see it. I’m going to see the Eternal Alchemy itself.” She remembered saying as Omadd was securing her in the isolation chamber.

“I’m so sorry…” she thought.

“Come, young one. Let me show you the truth.” She heard the deep bellow of the jungle dragons voice through her memory.

“If I had only known.” She thought. “If I was only better prepared.” She stopped to rest a moment as the midday sun beat down on her. She opened her canteen and started taking a drink when she heard footsteps in the distance. Hooved footsteps from the sound of them. She turned and could make out centaurs approaching from the direction she was travelling.

“That’s right. I remember there being a centaur camp along this route.” She placed her canteen back in its satchel and started walking towards the approaching group. As she got closer, she counted three of them. She remembered that they were seemingly friendly back during those days, but she undid the clasp on her holster as a cautionary measure.

“Look. Another sylvari.” One of them spoke.

“Another?” Ceara asked puzzled.

“Yes. Tell me, traveler. Do you need any assistance in getting through the canyon?” Another asked Ceara.

“Uh…if you are offering it, then yes. I need to get to the Uplands as fast as possible.”

The trio looked at each other, then back to her, seemingly judging her. Ceara felt uneasy.

“We’ll take you as far as the pass that leads to the desert, but no farther.”

“That’s good enough.” She replied. She climbed onto the back of one of the centaurs. After securing her things, they galloped onward towards the west.

“Well…Ventari would have just made me walk…” she said snidely under her breath. “At this rate we’ll be in the Uplands in no time.” she thought.

Time passed as the trio raced through the canyons. Ceara saw other centaurs along the route, patrolling or hunting. She couldn’t tell, nor did she really care. Her thoughts were only on one thing at the moment.

“If it is still there…if it still exists…” she hesitated at the thought of what that machine did to her and it possibly could do if another entered it. Soon the canyons started fading away, and the desert once again started looming out before her. The centaurs slowed their gait, coming to a full stop.

“This is as far as we can take you, sylvari. Your journey from here is on foot.” One spoke as she climbed off his back.

“Thank you.” She said looking up at him.

“Safe journeys.” He said to her before they turned and headed back into the canyon.

“Well, this looks somewhat familiar.” She commented as she looked out at the rolling dunes of the desert. “Time to get moving.” She thought back to the days of when she lived here before. She remembered making the trek through the desert many times and let her instincts take over, remembering landmarks along the way. She knew she was on the right path when she came across the remains of one of her steam minotaurs partially buried in the sand near a cliff wall, it’s steel carcass blasted clean by years of blowing sand.

“I remember you…” she said, kneeling down, brushing the sand away from its lifeless face. “Thanks to you, and the others, I was able to haul all my equipment into that cavern.” She stood and moved on. Cautiously making her way down the incline, approaching the cavern entrance, she found remains of asuran golems and some security turrets. They had been damaged beyond repair and left where they lay. She picked up a crystal from one of the golems.

“Inquest…” she spoke, looking at her reflection on the surface. “They must have been here studying the ley line…and someone…or something didn’t like it.” She dropped the crystal into the sand and took pause. A giant steel door of asuran design had been constructed at the mouth of the cavern, and it too had been destroyed. She cautiously stepped through into the cave, her heart racing as she was met by the cool air of the cavern. The smell of ozone filled the air, getting stronger as she descended into the cave. Energy she had not felt in a long time washed over her as the path emptied into the main room of the cavern. Its walls illuminated brightly by the river of energy that coursed through it. Ceara gasped as she stood in silence, staring at the beam of leyline energy that flowed from the far end of the cavern to the other, piercing the stone wall and flowing beyond. Her thoughts returned to that day so long ago when she first discovered it.

“Look at that. It’s beautiful.” She thought. “and it still is.” Her thoughts snapped back to the present. She looked around the immediate area, noticing more asuran tech set up in various locations. She slowly walked over to a small terminal that had been set up near the flow of energy.

“The inquest were studying it.” She spoke softly as she ran her hand down the damaged control console. “If they were here…then…” She slowly turned, her eyes gazing up at an opening at the end of the cavern. She felt anxious, as if an icy hand were slowly closing over her heart. Slowly she made her way up the small ridge, each footfall more carefully placed than the last. The ridge was lined with damaged inquest equipment as well, but one console next to the cave opening stood out in particular. It wasn’t of Inquest design. It hummed softly, sounding a periodic beep as lights flashed in time on its control surface. Her breathing labored as she neared it. She paused before reaching the threshold as she thought about what lay beyond in the cavern. Turning her gaze through the opening, she gasped, her eyes widened as she laid her eyes upon what she knew lay in the cave below: Omadd’s isolation chamber. The very machine that allowed her to view the Eternal Alchemy, that showed her secrets she wanted to know, and that allowed the jungle dragon to consume her.

“No…” she shook her head. “NO!” she screamed as she ran into the cave entrance, only to be repulsed by an invisible shield. She screamed again as she slammed herself into the field, trying to crash though it, but to no avail. The shield held fast. She turned to the console.

“No…no….it can’t be here…it has to be destroyed…” she gasped as she frantically threw switches and pressed buttons on the control panel. ‘THORNS!” she screamed, slamming her fists on the unit as nothing seemed to drop the shield. She turned and slammed her fists against the barrier.

“No…” she whimpered as she slowly dropped to her knees, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“If I understood the stories correctly…” a voice echoed through the cavern. Ceara drew her pistol, spinning around pointing it randomly behind her.

“The last thing anyone, you of all people, should want to do is be near that machine.” The voice continued.

“Who’s there!? Show yourself! NOW!” Ceara hollered, her voice echoing through the cavern. She heard the sound of an ethereal chime that reminded her of a mesmers teleportation spell.

“I’m down here.” The voice called out. Ceara slowly peered over the edge of the ridge to see a dark colored sylvari woman in white dress looking up at her. She was holding a very odd-looking staff.

“Are you going to shoot me?” the woman asked almost playfully.

“Who are you? Why are you following me?” Ceara replied sternly.

“My name is Liathlas. And I’m not here to harm you, secondborn.” The woman shouldered her staff and started walking up the ridge. She stopped when Ceara fired a shot at her feet.

“Don’t come any closer.” Ceara barked at her. “I asked you why you are following me?” aiming her pistol at the womans face.

“I’m not following you. I am following a group of Nightmare Courtiers that are apparently travelling into the jungle. They seem to be looking for some great item of power. You just happened to catch my eye as you were travelling across the wastes and my curiosity got the better of me.”

Ceara narrowed her eyes. “Nightmare Courtiers? The last I heard Faolain had been killed in the battles against Mordremoth and the Nightmare Court fractured without her leadership.”

“Indeed. Faolian was slain, and in turn resurrected by Mordremoth as one of his champions.”

“You were my champion. My chosen one…” echoed through Ceara’s mind. She shook her head to clear her thoughts.

“Are you ok?” Liathlas asked, noticing Ceara’s momentary lack of focus.

“I’m fine.” Ceara snapped at her.

“Well, anyway, as for the Court, they have indeed fractured, their top ranks warring amongst themselves for control.” Liathlas continued. “This particular group seems to have developed a plan to take control of the Court using whatever it is they are looking for in the jungle.”

“And who is this group led by?”

“A sylvari named Nafiona. A practitioner of necromancy.”

“A sylvari necromancer?”

“Yes.”

“An item of great power…” Ceara muttered. She looked at Liathlas unbelievingly. “How do I know this is all true? Maybe you’re here to kill me?”

Liathlas returned her look in disbelief, shaking her head. “I’m not here to kill you. As a matter of fact, I think we should work together, at least until we get into the jungle. There are still plenty of mordrem wandering the wastes, and they won’t waste a second to try to kill anyone that crosses their path.”

Ceara closed her eyes, breathing in deep. She knew this sylvari was right, and it would benefit her to have someone watching her back during the journey.

“Ok…” she reluctantly agreed. Sighing deeply, she slowly lowered and holstered her pistol. Liathlas cautiously walked up to her, turning her gaze to look at the device that lay inside. She looked back at Ceara, who was looking at the machine, before cutting her own eyes at Liathlas.

“I think you need to forget about that machine.” Liathlas stated looking down at Omadd’s device.

“That will be impossible. That machine-“

“Just walk away from it, secondborn.” She turned back to Ceara. “The past is gone. It can’t be changed. Just walk away from it.” Liathlas turned and started walking down the ridge.

“Feh…” Ceara sneered at her, glancing one last time at the machine that was a blessing and ultimately a curse in her life before heading down the ridge herself.

The pair travelled back through the Uplands, eventually back to the canyon that brought Ceara here. The trek was long on foot.

“Tell me, secondborn, which name do you prefer to go by now? Your birth name? Or the name you have chosen for yourself?” Liathlas asked.

Ceara pondered for a few moments. “It doesn’t really matter. Some call me by my birth name. The rest of the world now knows me as Scarlet Briar.”

“I see. Well, how about we just call you…Ceara Briar?” Liathlas giggled.

Ceara looked at her somewhat dumbfounded. “Really?”

“Well, it fits.” Liathlas grinned.

“No, we’re not doing that.” Ceara stated. “So…what’s your story?” she asked the dark hued sylvari.

“What do you mean?”

“What’s your story? A wyld hunt?”

“I didn’t have a wyld hunt. I’m not one of the lucky ones.”

“Maybe you are a lucky one for not having one.”

“And why do you say that secondborn?”

“Doesn’t it feel better not being tied to the Pale Tree? Not having to answer some call, some preordained destiny set before you?”

“I think it would be something remarkable, to have been chosen to have one.”

“That’s delusional.”

“What’s wrong secondborn? You didn’t like yours?”

Ceara’s bioluminescence flared at the thought of being tied down with a wyld hunt.

“I didn’t have one and I am very thankful I was not chosen for one!” she said sternly.

“A touchy subject, I see” Liathlas replied.

“It’s best to just let it go.” Ceara sneered.

“Now, I’m curious.”

“I don’t have one…” Ceara growled through her teeth.

“Ok…ok. There is no need to get upset. Anyway… we should make a stop by the centaur camp to stock on supplies…and maybe rest for a bit.” Liathlas suggested.

“I agree.”

“This trek will take us a while to reach the jungle. I also suggest we make stop by Camp Resolve as well.”

“Camp Resolve?” Ceara asked, pausing.

“Yes. The camp from which the Pact launched their attack on Mordremoth.”

“I’m fully aware. And they weren’t successful.”

“Sadly, no.” Liathlas sighed. “But in the end, Tyria did prevail.”

Ceara’s face dropped. “And it was because of me.” She thought to herself. “It would probably be best if we do not visit that pact camp.” She paused.

“Hmm?” Liathlas looked over her shoulder at Ceara.

“I have the feeling that I wouldn’t be wanted there.”

“Nonsense. I’m sure it would be fine.”

“I don’t think so.” Ceara muttered. “So, tell me about this Nafiona.”

Liathlas pondered a moment. “I don’t know much about her. She’s a necromancer and member of the Nightmare Court as I said. And I’ve been tasked with stopping her from finding whatever this item of power she seeks. Stories tell of her being at the Nightmare Tower in Kessex Hills during its construction.”

Ceara stopped in her tracks, looking at Liathlas. “The Nightmare tower?”

“Yes.” Liathlas turned to her. Ceara pondered a moment, remembering the giant spore plant.

“There were so many Nightmare Court there.” She paused, shaking her head lightly. “My memory from those days is fuzzy. I don’t…I don’t remember her at all. How powerful is she?”

Well, she’s a necromancer. Maybe as powerful as Trahearne was. I’m not sure.”

“So, it’s just you against this Nafiona and her slice of the Nightmare Court?”

“Well, since she’s travelling into the jungle, I was hoping to get some of the Pact to help, honestly.”

“I think the remnants of a splintered faction are beneath their worries at the moment.” Cear stated.

“You’re probably right. So, I hope you’ll help instead!” Liathlas grinned at her.

Ceara slowly looked at Liathlas. “Why do I feel like I just got played at my own game.” She sighed heavily.

The trek through the canyons was arduous on foot and took longer than Ceara had remembered. The sun was very low, the blackness of night slowly creeping across the sky. Long shadows were cast through the canyon as they continued. It wasn’t long before they were approached by a pair of patrolling centaurs who offered to escort them to the camp, which they gladly accepted. Arriving at the entrance, Ceara held her breath.

“It still smells as bad as I remember.” She thought to herself. “What was I thinking agreeing to rest here.” She slowly exhaled and tried to breathe as shallow as she could. Looking around the torch lit area, she saw a handful of other individuals. One looked like a possible merchant, other looked like wayfarers making their way through the region.

“Is there a place where we might rest for the night?” Liathlas asked a one of the centaurs.

“There is a communal structure at the far end of the camp.” He replied.

“Oh, thank you so much.” Liathlas motioned to Ceara to follow.

“Do we really have to stay here?” Ceara asked quietly, a look of disgust on her face. “The smell is terrible. I’ve been trying not to gag.”

“Would you rather stay out there in the desert in the blowing sand and wild beasts? I’m sure any mordrem that might be out there would just love to meet you.”

“That’s…that’s not funny.” Ceara hissed at her. Passing through the camp, they were approached by an aged centaur with a noticeable limp.

“You there.” He said, his voice deep. The pair stopped as he lumbered up to them, setting his gaze upon Liathlas. “What is your name?”

“My name is Liathlas!” she replied happily. “And this is Ceara.”

“And you are?” Ceara asked, almost commanding. The centaur cut his eyes at her for a moment, then back to Liathlas.

“I am Ganthar. You look familiar. The same as your kind that came here a great many years ago.”

“Oh, who was that?” Liathlas asked, her curiosity brimming.

“Her name was Wynne.” He spoke. Ceara gasp slightly at the name.

“Wynne? The firstborn?” Liathlas asked surprisingly.

“Hmm...” the centaur nodded slightly. “She was a gentle soul that visited my tribe many years ago. She was very eager to learn our ways. And very interested in Ventari.” He paused a moment. “Until more of your kind arrived. They attacked us, taking us by surprise. Slaughtered my tribe. I barely survived the assault and escaped with my life.” He told them as he narrowed his eyes at Liathlas. The two sylvari looked at each other momentarily before turning back to him. Ceara slowly placed her hand on her pistol under her cloak.

“It took me a very long time to forgive. To realize there are some amongst your kind that would see the world burn rather than to live in peace. You reminded me of her.” He continued.

“I’m sorry but I did not know her. I was born from the tree much after her. I understand that she was quite peaceful in her demeanor.” Liathlas said, looking at Ceara. Ceara stared at the sand in front of her, slowly releasing her grip on her pistol. She knew of Wynne somewhat, and knew what had happened to her.

“Secondborn, are you alright?” Liathlas asked. “You’ve fallen quite silent.”

“I’m fine. I’m just…just a little sleepy is all.”

The centaur nodded. “You should rest then. I will not take up anymore of your time this night.” He bowed his head slightly and trotted past the sylvari.

“He was rather nice, wasn’t he?” Liathlas said joyfully.

“Yes, I guess so.”

They arrived at the communal structure. A large leathery tent with makeshift beds laid out in two rows.

“Well, this looks healthy.” Ceara stated as she looked over the dimly lit area. A few other travellers were using the area as well. Liathlas made her way to the back of the structure and plopped down on a heavily worn cot.

“Just like being a newborn sapling again, living in the bottom of the Grove.” She said almost whimsically.

“Yeah, except with this terrible smell in the air.” Ceara replied to her, a tone of annoyance in her voice.

“Oh, come now, secondborn. It isn’t that bad.”

“No, it’s bad.” Ceara stated, unstrapping her rifle and leaning it against the next cot. Liathlas looked upon it, various gauges and holographic images glowing softly in the dimly lit area.

“Your rifle seems very vibrant.” She said curiousily, kneeling down waving her hand through the holograms.

“It is. And even more so when when it’s powered up.”

“Did you make it?”

“No, I did not. A pair of asura in Rata Sum constructed it. I am merely…borrowing it…until further notice.”

“Oh, I see.” Liathlas stood and sat back on her cot. “I guess we should get some rest.” She said laying down.

“I guess we should.” Ceara muttered Ceara muttered as she unlatched her shoulder pauldrons and set them beside the cot. The makeshift bedding creaked as she wrapped herself in her cloak and laid down. Staring at the roof of the structure, her thoughts drifted through the recent events of her life and the people she met. Mender Seoras, the asuran pair in Rata Sum whose names she couldn’t remember, and Ventari. She was briefly interrupted by the sound of light snoring coming from her sylvari compatriot in the cot next to her. She smiled lightly for a moment before her thoughts drifted to the Aspect that had been a part of her at one time. A piece of Mordremoth’s will fused with her own mind. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath and slightly shaking her head.

“I was so foolish.” She whispered to herself as she tried to drift into sleep.

#Guild Wars 2 #GW2 #GW2 Fanfiction #Scarlet Briar #Sylvari #AU Ceara

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sad-sweet-cowboah · 4 years ago

Text

Rekindled

Summary: After a hard night of drinking with Lenny, Arthur finds himself in an odd but familiar spot. He also meets someone he hadn’t seen in months: you.

Warnings: It’s angsty smut hours here, folks.

A/N: So this is technically an older piece, since I started it last October and have been working on it little by little since. I did post a preview of it last year if anyone remembers!

A path of light crossed over Arthur’s closed eyes, rousing him from a deep sleep. He blinked them open, bleary and heavy, greeted with the unfamiliar ceiling of a cabin.

The sun shone through the light curtains of a window next to him, and he quickly realized he’d been laying in a bed. The leftover tiredness vanished as he jerked up in surprise, only to be cursed with a splitting headache. The room spun, an uncomfortable dizziness that caused his stomach to lurch.

Expelling a small groan, he gingerly rubbed his palm over his face, resting it on his forehead. How much did he drink last night?

Movement caught his eye, the door on the far side of the room opening. He tensed up, soon forgetting about his moment of weakness to grab for his gun – only to realize his belt had been removed.

A figure stepped in, covered in a jacket and a long skirt billowing around their legs. Beautiful hair that flowed elegantly around their face. Hands laden with a bucket. As they turned toward him, Arthur’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Y/N?!”

“Oh good, you’re awake!” you spoke, your voice light in a chime. “’Bout time too, it’s early afternoon.”

Arthur seemed to be flabbergasted by your appearance, mouth hung open slightly as he continued to stare. It’d been months since you’d last seen each other.

His stomach twisted uncomfortably, causing him to wince and double over.

“There’s another bucket next to you.” You’d said nonchalantly, turning away to heave the bucket onto the table. Liquid sloshed loudly within it.

Without looking Arthur grabbed the other bucket, having done just in time as he proceeded to empty the contents of his stomach into it. He retched and heaved uncomfortably, the pain overcoming him until the spasms of his body calmed down. The rancid taste lingered in his mouth, a tinge of alcohol still remaining. He spat into the bucket and placed it back on the ground.

“Where are we?” he rasped, wiping his mouth.

“Cumberland Forest,” you responded without turning to face him. “Little cabin tucked away in the trees.”

“You…you live here?” he asked, pushing the blankets away in an attempt to stand.

“For the time being,” you answered, swiveling around with a tin cup in your hands. “Here.” You walked over to him, pushing on his shoulder.

Arthur towered over you, yet he fell back onto the bed to your gentle pressure. You held the cup out which he took, warily peering into it. Clear water that was cool to the touch filled it halfway. Arthur brought the cup to his lips and took a small sip, swishing it to remove some of the taste on his tongue. He spat it into the bucket once more. “Thanks,” he sighed, placing the cup down. “How’d I…did ya find me or somethin’?”

“Passed out on the side of the road, reeking with alcohol,” you confirmed with a snicker. “Nice to see some things don’t change.”

Arthur ducked his head in shame, sighing out a response. “Yeah…” he shook his head at himself, albeit lightly to not agitate the pounding that refused to leave his head. It’d fallen silent for a long moment, thoughts moving through his mind as he tried to find his next words.

He hadn’t seen you in months; you having up and left the gang without so much as a note of farewell. He woke up one day to find you and your belongings gone and no trace of you at all. It left the others bewildered, some even trying to track you, including Arthur himself. The search lasted for days, however the effort proved to be fruitless as the trail had gone cold.

“Listen, I have to run into Valentine for a bit,” you said, moving away from him to grab a satchel that hung on the wall. “Stay if you want, just don’t think about robbing me. You know damn well I can track you if you do.”

Arthur blinked at your abruptness, watching quietly as you opened the door again, stepping out into the greenery that surrounded the cabin. After a few seconds, the sound of hoofbeats faded into the distance.

Once the door closed, he was surrounded by silence again. He stood up carefully, hit by another wave of dizziness. He leaned on the wall, clutching at his head as a second bout of nausea overcame him. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, willing himself not to dry heave.

As the feeling passed, he opened his eyes again. He was in just a simple one room building. He realized with a jolt this was Six Point Cabin, the area that held the O’Driscoll camp which Kieran had helped ambush just days earlier. He didn’t recognize it at first; there had been some cleaning done, a little bit of redecorating here and there. He moved toward a window, peering toward the field that the small massacre occurred. The tents and supplies were all still there, though some items have been moved around. He assumed you were probably looking through the tents and crates for anything useful or valuable.

He couldn’t fathom why you chose this place to stay in, wondering if you’d ever run into any other O’Driscoll goons. So many questions he wanted to ask, and he was tempted to follow you into Valentine. Though after the previous night, it didn’t seem like the best idea. He wondered how Lenny fared after last night, if he’d managed to get back to camp. The last thing Arthur remembered was stumbling away from the law.

In reality, he should try and head back to camp. However, unanswered questions that cycled in his mind rooted him in place. Your departure had caused him more pain than he realized, keeping him up for many nights in lost wonder on where you went and hoping you’d return. Easily one of the most productive members in the gang, you had proven to be a great thief and a formidable fighter. Additionally there was a softness to you, a kind heart that reached out for those in need. He always had to admire you from afar.

He sighed and reached for the water cup, lifting it to his parched lips and taking a swallow. Guess he’ll wait around for your return.

---

An hour passed, and Arthur’s patience didn’t wear. He kept himself busy, letting his strength slowly regain. Some personal items of yours were strewn about, little reminders of your presence that he missed. He’d found his satchel underneath the bed, having some stringy meat once he knew the nausea wouldn’t return. His gun belt, he’d realized, was resting against the bed post. His hat was on top of it.

Upon the fireplace, he’d noticed a framed photo. It was the entire gang, all posing in front of a large carriage. Upon taking the photo, he had been standing close to you, close enough to touch. He remembered that day fondly.

A few more memories stirred up, the feeling of nostalgia touching him in both a pleasant and unpleasant way.

A little more time had passed until the thundering of hooves caught his attention. He tensed, hand automatically hovering over his revolver. A moment later, the door opened to reveal you once again.

He relaxed in an instant, letting out the breath he was holding. As you closed the door, you met his gaze and smiled. “Haven’t left yet huh?”

“Don’t got a horse at the moment.” Arthur answered instantly, which was only partially true to his degree.

“Never stopped you before,” you said with a raised eyebrow. “I know you can easily steal one.”

“You’re right,” Arthur nodded. “But I ain’t leavin’, not til you answer some questions.”

Your smile turned rueful. “Figured as much,” you sighed, placing your satchel on the table. Pulling out a can of beans and some already cooked meat slabs, you continued. “Wanna have some dinner, then?”

Arthur looked at you for a moment, and then shrugged, sitting at the table. The stringy meat hadn’t exactly provided him with much. He waited silently as you prepared two plates, placing one in front of him and the other at your own spot. As you settled into your seat, Arthur’s eyes were on you.

“Alright, ask.”

“Why did ya leave?” he immediately spoke. “’Specially when you didn’t say goodbye to anyone.”

You sighed, casting your gaze down to your plate. You toyed with the beans briefly before spooning some into your mouth, chewing with a thoughtful expression. “Somethin’ didn’t seem right.”

Arthur tilted his head. “What do ya mean by that?”

“I dunno, I kept getting this…feeling,” you explained, your free hand resting over your heart. “A feeling that something bad was gonna happen. I didn’t want to stick around to find out what it was.”

“So you just up n’ left?” Arthur concluded. “Why didn’t ya say anything to anyone?”

“Would any of y’all have believed me?” you countered. When Arthur hesitated, you added, “Didn’t think so.”

“Coulda at least told me,” he mumbled. “At least told me goodbye. I…we tried trackin’ ya for a little while.”

“I thought you would try, so I had to make sure I covered my tracks well,” You explained. “Kept myself moving.”

Arthur solemnly nodded once, momentarily falling silent to eat some of his meal. He wasn’t sure what to say next, trying to process the information that was given. You’d left on a bad feeling. He understood gut feelings, knowing them all too well in a lifestyle such as this. “What caused it?” he finally asked.

“Can’t say for sure,” you replied with a small shake of your head. “But when Micah joined… it just felt like something was different.”

Micah, of course. That headstrong fool causing more problems than not these past few months. “So Micah caused you to leave.”

“Eh, part of it. Racist asshole.” you murmured.

A chuckle passed his lips. “He’s in jail over in Strawberry right now. I’m supposed to go get ‘im, and I’d rather wrestle a damn pack ‘o wolves.”

“Not surprised,” venom dripped from your voice. “But it was…more than just him. I started having nightmares. Bloodshed and bodies, mangled faces of those I cared about…” you swallowed hard, stopping to eat some more. A moment of silence followed as you chewed on the meat. “I came to the conclusion that I didn’t wanna be a part of that, so I left.”

Nightmares. Arthur shook his head in disbelief, leaning back against the chair, folding his arms. “Seems a little silly to run ‘cause of nightmares.”

“I thought so too, until I heard the mess you guys caused in Blackwater.” You pointed out as-a-matter-of-factly.

“You know about that?” he said incredulously.

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “Who hasn’t? I got into town not too long after you fled. Pinkertons everywhere, interrogating people on the streets. I had to keep myself hidden, managed to sneak out. When I learned what happened, I realized I was right. Something went wrong.”

Arthur sighed, running his hand through his hair. He was hesitant to compare your dream to the awful reality. He reluctantly spoke, “Weren’t just Blackwater neither. We got chased up into the Grizzlies, lost some folk on the way. We managed to get in a better spot, but it ain’t easy gettin’ back on our feet.”

“Only further proving my point,” You added. “I couldn’t bring myself to be a part of that.”

“We’re outlaws, life is always dangerous for us. You knew that when ya joined up.” Arthur argued, stabbing the meat with unnecessary force to cut it.

“Of course I knew that, Arthur,” you retorted with a slight scowl, though melting to a look of sadness. “I wouldn’t have been with Dutch for years if I hadn’t. But honestly…my gut was telling me to get out, and I did.”

He fell silent again, a flame in his chest wanting him to argue more yet nothing but empty words filled his mind. Bickering was something you and him were good at, usually about silly things that resolved on its own within a few minutes. It was only on rare occasions did you two disagree on a bigger matter, resulting in neither of you speaking for a day, and would only speak if he approached you first. You were more stubborn than he was.

Remembering those days brought a bout of woeful sentiments, reminding him all too clearly how much he’d missed you when you left. “I jus’...” he trailed off, rubbing his face before continuing. “Everyone misses you. They still wonder why ya left.”

You pursed your lips, dropping your gaze down to your plate. “I wanted to say something, I truly did. But I know it would have made things worse.”

Your last words set anger in him, bubbling up to the surface. “You leavin’ without a word was worse!” Arthur exclaimed, throwing his hand outward. “You had us all worried, wonderin’ where you were!” his fist fell heavily on the table, shaking the contents on top of it. “Search parties, days of trackin’ worthless! Losin’ sleep thinkin’ I’d never see you again.”

At first you’d seemed unphased by his outburst. However as he finished, your face began to falter. He waited for you to speak, expecting another flimsy reason or excuse to justify your actions.

With a sigh, you said, “I’m sorry, Arthur. I really am. I…” you sniffed, rubbing your eyes briefly. “I really miss you guys too. It…it took me a lot of convincing to even go through with it, and I had to constantly fight myself not to return. You guys are my family and I could never change that. It hurt me much more than you’d think.”

Arthur listened to you, his lips set in a hard line as he studied you. The raw emotion that touched your voice softened his otherwise angered heart. He took a deep breath, shaking his head as if to settle his thoughts right. There was no need to be frustrated; what was done was done. “Maybe you shoulda said somethin’. Maybe Dutch woulda listened. Wouldn’t have lost the people we did.”

“I could have and should have done many things, Arthur,” you said quietly. “But some things are meant to happen regardless. We can’t change what’s intended.”

Those words hit him with more force than he’d thought. Bowing his head, staring at the half-finished food before him. He’d lost his appetite, his heart sinking uncomfortably deep into his guts. He’d wanted answers and now he nearly regretted asking. Maybe he should have left while you were out. He wasn’t sure what answer he’d expected, though his wandering thoughts kept him awake at night those first few weeks of your absence.

There was no doubt you two had been close; both taken under Dutch’s wing at a young age. Years together of running, robbing and riding, those minor arguments and drunken nights around the campfire. Hours of speaking to one another about some nonsense, secrets whispered and kept. Some of the others would joke that you two acted like a married couple, bickering and making up right after, moving in sync and often going on missions together. Arthur would scoff and you would laugh, sometimes making the joke yourself and even going as far as to suggest to do it for real.

Arthur could never tell if you were joking or not, and would brush it off with a half-hearted chuckle. It was an absurd suggestion, wondering who could ever marry him. Yet with your departure, it were as if a piece of him had been taken with you.

He often perceived it as something he’d done wrong, though couldn’t fathom as to why it would be his own fault. You knew about Mary, about Eliza. His luck with women was something left to be desired. Yet you weren’t involved romantically, never gave an inkling of being sweet on one another. His own lack of self-confidence had automatically convinced him he wasn’t one to have any sort of close relation with the opposite sex. Perhaps it was silly to assume he was owed something from you.

He stood up immediately, aggressively pushing himself from the table as he got to his feet. As he turned to grab his things, he heard your voice.

“Arthur?”

“Gotta get goin’,” he responded without looking at you. “Got some things to take care of.”

He heard you sigh, the sound of chair legs scraping against the floor as you stood up. “At least let me walk you to the door.”

Arthur didn’t answer, grabbing his hat and satchel. As he crossed the cabin, you were right behind him, quickly walking ahead to grab the door. You opened it for him, stepping out into the late afternoon light. He could just march out and not look back, but somehow your presence there distracted him. He stopped at the threshold, looking down at you.

Rays of light beamed through the vegetation, touching your face in such a way that your skin glowed. Eyes reflected brightly, highlighting the beauty that graced your finer features. A hint of disappointment hung on your lips as a small frown, and your eyes never left his.

Silent words passed between you two like a bolt of electricity, his nerves tingling as if he were struck himself. You were the epitome of gorgeous; your features having stayed the same regardless of the hardships. More than once your face appeared in his dreams, treading through his mind in the quiet hours of the night. Those suggested ideas of marriage tugged at him on occasion, daring to venture where that would lead.

Sure, he never did believe you, partly due to his previous relationships. He was a cursed man, damned to never be truly satisfied with his life as the powers above teasingly dangled his desires in front of him. Cruel was fate for pulling you away too. Perhaps you were right about how some things were meant to happen.

“Stay with me.” You said. It wasn’t a question nor a suggestion.

Arthur felt his breath hitch.

“Don’t go back, please.” Your voice was low, swimming with raw emotion.

You never pleaded, the slightest hints of it in your tone caught Arthur off guard. He stared at you with contemplation, your words pulling at his heartstrings with more force than intended.

“I…can’t…” he forced himself to say, wringing out the words as if his throat were dry.

Your lips pursed, your steady gaze not breaking from his. “You’re not invincible, ya know. One day…things will change.”

He inhaled, opening his mouth as if to argue, yet no words formed on his lips. A strong mix of emotions raged within him still, a battle of uncertainty that could not be quelled. “Things always change.” He managed to say quietly.

“Not for the better, you know that.” You emphasized.

Of course he knew that, hell, he probably knew that better than anyone. Pain, death, and sadness took the forefront of his life more often than he’d like, yet cutting ties as you did would be much more difficult. He had a family, close bonds that would take effort to break.

Seeing you standing before him, the desperation bright and glassy in your eyes, had him consider it for a brief moment.

He spoke your name, his words trailing off as he watched you step closer, just inches away from him.

“We could be…good…together, Arthur,” you whispered, tilting your head up, your breath wafting gently across his face. “You and I…no more outlaw days, no more running, no more worrying…just…us.”

His heart pounded like a drum against his ribs. Having you this close rendered his head devoid of all thought. Your words echoed in his mind, the very brief consideration driven by something deeper within him.

His mouth opened slightly, though whatever he was going to say was quickly subdued by your lips.

Shock overcame him, stiffening in surprise. You pulled back instantaneously, staring into his eyes with an expectant look.

He stared at you in bewilderment, stirring up a myriad of feelings. Silent questions arose, none of which formed in his mouth. His hands twitched forward without thought, raising one to graze his fingers against your cheek. Cupping it gently, he leaned forward and kissed you properly.

Your lips were soft against his, warm and plump, easily melding against his mouth. His other hand hovered along your lower back, hesitant, yet you stepped forward to welcome his embrace. Bodies touching, his arm rested against you, holding you to him.

It’d been so long since he kissed anyone; he nearly forgot what it felt like. A sweet rush of bliss washed over him, soon forgetting the unease that held the both of you. His hands slinked into your hair, holding you close as his lips moved silently against yours.

Your arms wrapped around his neck, his nerves tingling pleasantly from your touch. It was as if you had fire in your skin, every part of his body responding to the heat that radiated from you. He pulled back for air, breathing heavily as if he’d run a race. Blood rushed, thumping in his ears.

You kept hold of him, a small smile painted on your face. You’d reached up and pulled his hat off. A thousand unspoken words were exchanged through your gazes alone, all of which told one message that he understood.

Stay.

Your hands ran slowly across his shoulders, fingers trickling lightly across the fabric of his shirt. You outlined the muscles of his biceps, trailing along his forearms and finally to his hands. His hands gently entwined with yours, warm and soft against his rough and calloused skin.

You silently pulled him back into the cabin, his feet light as he followed you without protest. Your lips found his again, eliciting such passion behind it that it nearly caught him off guard. His arms took hold of you, pulling you in a tight embrace. Your closeness, the warmth that radiated through your clothes against him, it was all so surreal.

God, has he been holding back for this long? Was this just a dream?

Arthur pulled back an inch, resting his forehead against yours. You felt so real in his arms, against his chest. He uttered your name, barely a whisper that held his vulnerability. The way he longed for you was unlike any other. You were more than just a fellow outlaw to him, more than just family.

Now he knew why you suggested marriage.

And he’d been so afraid of another relationship, he refused to see it for what it was himself.

You sighed his name, your voice like a soft song in his ears.

It hurts to be without you.

He dipped his head down, resting it carefully on your shoulder. Your hands threaded through his hair with soothing strokes. Your scent overwhelmed him, a lovely aroma which fogged his senses. He breathed in slowly, locking you into his memory.

His lips ghosted across the soft skin of your neck, placing a baby kiss along your pulse point. A short, uneven breath rattled from your throat. Lifting his head, he peered at your face. Your eyes were half-lidded, staring at him with an expression he recognized, yet he was in disbelief.

Why me?

Your palms rested on his chest, holding his gaze as your fingers inched toward his exposed skin. You traced his collar bones, your touch light. Moving across the midline of his pectorals, you stopped over his racing heart that leapt from the lightest of grazes.

His skin felt like fire, a trail prickling after your touch. After years of only bath ladies having come in contact with his naked skin, this effect was foreign and familiar simultaneously. He watched as your fingers deftly worked the topmost closed button of his shirt.

He stiffened automatically, unable to hide the wariness of judgment that crept to the forefront of his mind. You must have recognized his apprehension, moving one hand to cup his cheek. Your face was gentle, offering a look of safety.

You can trust me.

A shuddering breath pushed past his lips. Such intimacy was lost to him long ago, only to be visited in his dreams. He missed it so and was afraid to attempt with another woman. He did trust you, trusted you with his life even. Perhaps it was time to strengthen it even more.

He ducked his head slightly, giving a small nod to allow you to continue. A soft kiss was placed on his cheek. You continued further, easing your way down his buttons, keeping your eyes level with his.

He was nervous, his heart refusing to cease its hammering. His mind incessantly whispered unkind comments, battling actively with his better senses. With each button released, exposing more of his torso, he waited for your reaction of disgust or disinterest. With the last undone, his shirt fell open to reveal his union suit. You hadn’t hesitated to repeat the process, exposing more and more of his torso to you until he was bare from the waist up.

He watched you with held breath as you smoothed your palm against his abdomen, the tips of your fingers trailing gently along the ridges of his muscles. A look of interest appeared across your face, tracing patterns along his skin. To his surprise, you hadn’t offered him any notion of repulsion.

You reached up, taking hold of his shirt and suspenders to peel them from his shoulders. The cool air nipped his skin, though it didn't quell the warmth that slowly spread through him. He closed his eyes from your softness, aware of the way your hands explored him. Just this alone brought a brighter light in the darkness of his inner thoughts, slowly diminishing the skepticism that plagued him.

Your fingers rested on the back of his neck, applying gentle pressure to bring him to you. As your lips met you grasped his hand, placing it gently upon your own shirt.

Hesitant as he was, fingers twitching across the buttons, he longed for more.

Without a pause you guided him with ease, directing him along the line as they parted. The silky fabric of your chemise grazed against his knuckles. He opened his eyes, pulling back to view. Your shirt fell from your shoulders, pooling on the ground around your feet.

Your skirt was soon to follow, the billowing waves of fabric landing elegantly upon the worn wooden floor. Down to nothing but your unmentionables, you placed Arthur’s hands onto your waist. Heat radiated through the thin fabric like a furnace. You inched closer, pressing your body against his. You were so delicate compared to him, even though you presented yourself otherwise.

He wanted to touch you more, to feel your bare skin in his palms. His reluctance fueled by the remaining dregs of apprehension stopped him. He idly tested the fabric between his fingers, unsure whether or not to move forward. Your eyes reflected patience, silently awaiting his decision.

I trust you too.

Releasing a shuddering exhale, Arthur tugged the straps down from your shoulders. Your breasts, perfect and round, were revealed to him as he peeled it away. You aided him further, sliding the entire piece down your waist, falling past your legs to join the rest of your clothes on the floor.

You were completely nude now, standing before him with shameless confidence. He gazed at you up and down while drinking in the lovely sight with careful precision. Lord, you were gorgeous. A Goddess next to such a plain man such as himself. He almost felt shameful to even stand in your presence.

You stepped closer, pressing your body to his as you wrapped your arms around his neck once more. Your breasts rested against his chest which left him breathless. Desire began to pool within him, stirring heat in his very core. He bit his lip with an inability to hinder the ever growing arousal. He held you again, resting his hands just above the curve of your rear. Trailing his fingertips up and down your spine, reveling how good you felt to him.

He soon found the courage to venture further, falling to the lust that took hold of him. Your butt felt heavenly to him, kneading your flesh which produced a quiet moan from you. Standing on your toes, you placed your lips upon his neck, trailing quick kisses along his pulse point and his stubbled chin, leaving no part of his skin untouched.

Your fingers ghosted across his arousal, too prominent to ignore it. You’d make quick work with the buttons, releasing him of his confinements. He felt the last of his clothes fall from him, exposing him in his entirety. He didn’t have time to react nor comprehend, as you’d taken his length in your hand without hesitation. A soft groan elicited from him as you smoothed your hand up and down. He could only stand there, allowing your control to flood him completely.

You quickened your pace, his groans only becoming louder. He could absolutely melt from your touch at this point, having gone so long without the company of anyone but his own. His grip on you tightened in need for more. His knees trembled from your thumb running across the head, and he released a shuddering breath.

And then, you stopped. A protest built in his throat as you stepped back, only to beckon him towards the bed. He followed without question, allowing you to push him to sit on the edge. You straddled him to sit daintily on his lap as you pulled him into a deep, heated kiss. Your hand found his length again, languidly stroking him with a light touch. He moaned into your mouth, tongues batting against one another at a slow pace. He could feel your heat on his legs, accompanied by the slight moisture. Daringly reaching down, he found your center without hesitation.

His fingertip encircled your bud. You shuddered on top of him, eliciting a soft moan of your own that sent a rush of fire through his stomach. His strokes hastened, vainly seeking for more of your pleasure. He tantalizingly stroked you with intent to prolong it. He enjoyed listening to you, knowing that he was eliciting such delectation. You ground into his grasp, pressing your torso to his once again. Your touch had become more feverish against him, ripping your lips from his to express yourself with a high mewl. You’d responded with dragging your thumb underneath his pink head, teasing the sensitive skin. He bucked up into your grip with a deep groan.

His fingers idled at your entrance, marveling at your slick. He slid one finger in as he explored your inner walls, stroking against your heat with slow precision. He’d lost count of the years past that he’d touched someone in such a way, although his memory of them was still as clear as day.

You uttered a gasp, a product of him discovering your spot. He curled his finger teasingly within you, adding another for enhanced effect. Soon you were reduced to a writhing mess on his lap, you gripped his shoulder with your free hand until he felt the sting of your nails.

A soft hiss slid across his tongue. The pain was not bothersome, only adding to the growing flames that resided within him. Though with each passing second, his yearning for you only increased. He wanted you, needed you. Years of missed opportunity leading to this moment.

He stared at your face. Cheeks flushed with a beautiful rosy glow, your lips parted and your eyes unable to focus. Because of him. He brought your attention back, one hand resting upon your cheek as your eyes met. He could get lost in how gorgeous yours were.

You seemed to understand him. Unspoken messages passed across an unseen bridge. Clarity formed on your face as you released him, then wrapped your arms around his neck.

Take me.

He held your hips, waiting patiently as you maneuvered yourself over him. As you sunk down, his eyes kept to yours as you began to seat yourself comfortably, a breathless gasp sliding from his mouth. Your inner walls were so hot, so wet…his grip tightened slightly at the sensation, holding himself not to thrust up into you.

Engulfed to the hilt, your hips canted as you began to rhythmically move against him. The ripples that accompanied it were breathtaking, a deep groan emitting from his chest. He couldn’t help but to move along with you, keeping in sync as you danced atop his lap. Your sweet sounds of pleasure were almost musical, filling his mind abuzz.

Your sight lost focus as you threw your head back, calling out his name in such a melody it made him blush. He was doing this to you. Him and only him. He could get lost in your essence just listening to your voice. His lips attached to your heated skin, beginning to slowly leave his marks on you, along your neck and across your collarbones. Your fingers stroked through his hair. You sighed into his ear, every praise and encouragement laced in your voice that seemed foreign to him but encouraging all the same.

Your fingers had brushed across his jaw, offering slight pressure to pull his head up. He met your lidded gaze, face flushed and mouth slightly parted. He understood your notion, his hands slinking up your back to knot into your hair as he drew you in for another kiss. Mixed sounds drowned out against your tongues with your increased pace. A deep groan vibrated in his chest while he hastened to keep up with you.

His lips parted from yours to catch his breath, taking short huffs before his mouth returned to your body. One hand slid around your torso to your breast. He kneaded it gently in his palm, reveling how soft and warm it felt. His mouth occupied your puckered nipple while his teeth grazed over it. You uttered a whine in response, your entire body trembling on top of him. He gave attention to the rest of your body with his other hand, memorizing every curve and swell. Everything about you felt wonderful. He eventually found his way to your core again, running his fingers along your nub to enhance your pleasure. Your moans only grew from there, your nails leaving their own marks on his shoulders.

You gripped him hard, your voice raising an octave. He knew what it meant as he locked gazes with you and he rubbed you faster, coaxing out your climax. It only took a half a moment before every muscle trembled around him, your walls clenching his length as your release overtook you. His name graced your lips as you pressed your forehead to his, dragging your fingers down his back. He shuddered from your touch, your climax almost sending him over the edge.

You panted out the last waves of your peak as your grip loosened from him. You straightened up to stare at him, appearing absolutely drunk with ecstasy and adoration for him. His heart leapt from the sight. He grabbed your waist and lifted you from him, turning to lay on the bed in one smooth motion.

He towered over you, keeping his gaze even with yours. You smiled up at him, a warm and inviting smile as your legs spread for him. He smiled as well, running his hands down your sides to stop at your hips. He carefully lined himself with your folds and pushed forward. A soft groan emanated as he sheathed himself within you once again. A brief moment of pause to relish the feeling of joining together again, Arthur caressed your face, keeping his gaze steady. Your hand covered his, and he began to thrust.

Watching your face contort to your pleasure underneath him was the best thing he’d ever seen.

His hips rolled in an undulating rhythm against you. Your hands found their way to his hair. Unblinking stares settled deep in his soul, afraid to look away as if he’d lose sight of your beauty permanently.

Time was lost to him from how deeply buried he was. His surroundings vanished, only focused on you and you alone. His own name filling his ears soon became his favorite song, wrapped in a melody of your moans and mewls. He watched as a second orgasm took hold of you, visibly waving through your body to expel from your mouth.

It was the most gorgeous form he’d ever seen you in. He felt his own pleasure heighten from just watching you writhe and arch beneath him. The way your walls squeezed him again, it wouldn’t be much longer until he would release himself. But he didn’t want to end it so soon.

Your legs wrapped around him, trapping him to you. It was as if you understood what was coming next. Arthur inhaled sharply, driving himself as far as he could. The fire was growing too quickly, too powerful for him to prolong –

I want you.

He squeezed his eyes shut as the release took hold of his entire body. Every muscle clenched while his climax washed over him, emptying what felt like his soul deep in your core. He groaned loudly, his hips snapping weakly against yours until it ebbed away, opening his eyes to see you again.

Your lips were parted and your cheeks were still flushed with a rosy tint. Your lustful eyes glinted beautifully in the light of the late afternoon. He brought himself down to crush his mouth to yours, eliciting a deep kiss despite the both of you gasping for air.

Hell, he didn’t even care. Your gentle fingers raked through his hair over and over, moaning sweetly and breathlessly against his tongue. His tired arms trembled beneath his weight, and he parted his lips from yours. Fatigue struck him like a bolt, and he dropped his head to rest within the valley of your breasts. He intended to roll off to your side, except you didn’t seem to mind. He felt your lips press against the crown of his head and caress his cheek, bringing a soft smile to his face.

After a few minutes of silence, the reality of what happened soon caught up with him. It didn’t occur to him how much he missed you until this very moment, and how stupid he was to ignore his own pining. He should have tried harder to find you, hell, he should have taken you to be his own ages ago if he weren’t such a coward. How much time he wasted ignoring the obvious.

Gone for months, only to appear once again under his nose.

His fingers lazily trailed up your side. You were real, right here with him. His hand searched for yours and you obliged, entwining your fingers with his. He never wanted to let you go ever again.

---

Arthur awoke with the soft song of crickets just outside the window. As he blinked his bleary eyes, he didn’t even realize he’d fallen asleep. The full moon shone through the window, brightening the little cabin with its silver glow. He was still on you, his head was still resting upon your chest, and your deep breathing and slow heartbeat indicated you too were out cold. He shifted himself slightly to look at you, observing your features. His own heart raced just seeing you like that, how beautiful you were even in such a vulnerable state.

His gaze shifted around the cabin. Right at that moment he wanted nothing more than to stay in this cabin with you, to live and sleep and wake up every day to see your lovely face. He wanted it all.

His eyes landed on his gun belt. His Cattleman revolver gleamed brightly and the weight of a harsh reality crashed upon him. As much as he wanted it, he had too much of a responsibility to his gang, his family. It wouldn’t be fair to abandon them now, especially since they were all just getting back on their feet.

He released a silent sigh. Placing a kiss upon your skin, he moved to stand. He hadn’t pulled out prior, and the slightly pleasurable sensation overtaking him nearly made him stop. You shifted as he stood, groaning quietly as his movement aroused you.

“Arthur?” you rasped, your voice heavy with sleep.

His heart sank. He turned slowly to face you and spoke, “I have to go.” Every word felt heavy.

You’d fallen silent. He could see the disappointment and sadness shadowed across your face. You sat up and swung your legs over the side to stand before him. Every curve of you accentuated in the moonlight, illuminating you with an ethereal glow. His hands flexed at his sides, forcing himself to keep from grabbing you.

However, you’d reached forward, taking his hands in your own. He didn’t stop you. “I know you do,” You said quietly, pressing your lips to his hands. “I won’t stop you, as much as I want to.”

His breath caught, thinking back to the argument from earlier. How adamant you were about wanting him to stay. “What changed?” he asked.

You released his hands and stepped back. “You’re an outlaw. No one can tell you what to do.” You answered, a ghost of a smile flitting across your lips.

He’d nearly stepped in sync with you. He however was rooted in the spot, actively arguing with his own conscience. He knew it was the right choice, but damn did it have to hurt this bad?

He turned and silently dressed, collecting his things while he felt your eyes on from the opposite side of the cabin. All the while his mind was yelling at him. Screaming. Demanding he’d stay. Desperately hoping you’d make another attempt. He fought it with gritted teeth as he slung his satchel around his neck and strode over to the door. He rested his hand on the knob and hesitated for a split second.

I love you.

It was such a tiny whisper that he thought he might’ve imagined it. He glanced over his shoulder at you, spotting your silhouette in the darkest corner of the cabin.

His heart plummeted and he opened the door, stepping out into the nocturnal wilderness. As he closed the door behind him, he let out a choked sigh.

I love you too.

---

I’m honestly considering on making this one a trilogy. But before I write anything new, I’m going to work on more of My Little Secret as well as And I’ll Succumb To You. I’ve put off that one especially for a little too long.

#Arthur Morgan x reader #Arthur Morgan x reader smut #Arthur Morgan

216 notes · View notes

lelenoir · 4 years ago

Text

characters;; wong kunhang, wong yukhei [ft: yuna and sejun (ocs)]

word count;; 4.8k

warnings;; hallucinations, implied character death, hendery discreetly trying to kill you

part of @starryqian & @takitaro 's stephen king collab,, this is very late im so sorry :(

shoutout to @jenoir for proofreading this messy baby :')

sorry if comes off as a bit rushed :(( i was ✨struggling✨ and i wanted to get this out soon

NIGHT SEVEN

Run. Run as fast as you can. Run till your legs burn. Run till the sun dies out. Your life depends on it.

The woods were an unforgiving place. Especially at night when the lights turn off and the mind is at its all time high. The sounds you were hearing were unmistakable. The footsteps and the chunk of leaves cracking beneath them told you they were close. And they were coming in fast.

Your breaths came out in pants while your legs begged you to stop. But you couldn't, not when you came all this way. Suffered days in the harsh wrath of mother nature. No, you couldn't afford to die now. And as if things weren't worse enough, you tripped on an overarching root. A wild thorn grazing the skin of your ankle, making you hiss.

The sounds were getting closer now but your legs had already given up. Already turning to jelly as soon as you'd stopped running. You huddled yourself against a nearby tree in hopes of its protection. The low growl that erupted from whatever was out there echoed around the trees like a villain toying with its prey.

Your instincts were telling you to gather whatever you could. To pray to whatever higher being was up there for one last miracle. But you knew better. There were no gods that could hear you within these woods.

So you count to ten like Hendery taught you and braced yourself at the mercy of whatever being was on the other side of the trunk.

Five… four… three… two… one.

DAY ONE, TWO HOURS BEFORE

Friends. You love them. You care for them. And you'd do pretty much anything for them. Right now you really hated that concept. And you really hated the way you'd fallen for it.

Sitting in the backseat of a car with your friend and her boyfriend arguing in the front was not how you expected your Friday to go. You grumbled under your breath, looking out the window as you watched landmarks pass by. You were such a great friend. And in your greatness as a friend, you let yourself be strung along to what you've just declared as 'the worst weekend of your life'.

"If you want to stop then stop! I'm just saying that with all the places you want to stop by we might not get to the one place we actually want to go in time." She argued, putting air quotes on the words 'stop by' with an over the top eye roll. That's your friend, Yuna. She wasn't like that most of the time, the opposite actually. In your friend group she was considered as this huge ball of sunshine. Her current boyfriend just brings out the worst in her, which, in your book, is reason number one on why she should break up with him.

"You say it's okay but then you always add something like that. If you don't want to just say it! No need to act like such a saint." And on the left corner was, you guessed it, her boyfriend Sejun. As an individual, he was okay. A little douchey but everyone has a bit of douchiness inside of them in your opinion. However, pair him up with Yuna then that's a different story. They were like monsters, only acting up when close to one another. It makes you wonder why they're still holding on to each other. But, alas, humans are very complex creatures. You'd rather read a book than try to understand them.

So you do. You whip out 'Alice in Wonderland' off your bag and start reading. You didn't like butting into other people's relationships, much less going on weekend trips with them but Yuna, your sweet amazing friend, managed to convince you to go with them. How? Through bribery. Yup, after promising you that you were free for this and next month's rent, you were quick to settle your belongings. You were a simple girl with simple priorities and at the top of that list of priorities is surviving college.

You'd read at least two chapters when they'd decided to stop at some mountain. Being the sporty and outgoing couple that they were, they weren't here to take pictures nor eat at the local diner. No. They were here to hike.

You sighed in defeat when Yuna visibly beamed at you. You reluctantly placed your book down next to you before grabbing your small bag of food and water.

The two were now giving each other the silent treatment while Yuna held onto you like a leech. It was awkward to say the least, especially with the side glances they keep giving each other and you were in the middle of it. Like a small child in the middle of their parents' divorce all over again. You hated it.

You could already feel the energy getting drained away from you and you hadn't even stepped on the mountain yet. That's how intense they were. You never voiced it out. Too afraid that they might gang up on you instead of each other. They may be worse against each other but together, they're a nightmare. You much preferred them going at each other's throats rather than yours.

The mountain was as green as you expected it to be. There was a clear path set out at the foot of it with little to no people standing by. It was higher than most you'd climbed and a vast forest enveloped it. The place was quiet and it looked like one of those towns that rarely had anything bad happen to it but on the off chance that something did happen, it was bad. Really bad.

"Okay so we have like an hour here before we continue on our trip." Yuna said, looking at the map in her hands. "This should be fun."

Really? You wanted to ask. But oh you were such a good friend. You scoped the mountain once again, already dreading the experience as Yuna gestures you to come forward and Sejun already walking up the path. You sighed to yourself, opting to give yourself an internal pep talk as your legs carried you to the start of a very begrudging journey.

You can do this. You can do this. You can do this.

An hour had passed. And you know it had, based on the watch you'd carried on your wrist. The small diner at the bottom of the mountain had already left your vision minutes ago.

On your way up, the ground diverged into two paths. The right side leading towards a secluded resort while the other pointed towards an upward slope. The couple opted to take the left. Your frown deepened.

One hour, my ass! You screamed in your mind, throwing a mini tantrum as you glared at Yuna's back. Your feet stomping on the (thankfully) dry ground, lips pursed and brows stitched together. You hated being a good friend.

In the midst of your childish antics, you heard a chain snap off your bag. You quickly turned around to see your treasured key chain on the ground. It was a gift from your late mother, a small remembrance of the time you both went to Disneyland. The first and last time. You bent down to pick it up when a sudden flash of white tore through your line of sight.

A white rabbit stood in front of you, your keychain tucked in between its mouth as it stared at you. As if waiting for you to chase it. Its red eyes bore into yours.

They say when your eyes focus on one thing, everything around you blurs in the distance. Nothing but muffled background noises and subtle outside forces. That should've been your first warning.

"Why are you even yelling at me?" Sejun complained, snapping your attention back. They were back at it again. You hadn't even heard Yuna yell at him during your short daze. You held back for a while, watching them argue as they walked. That should've been your second warning.

Like a magnet, you felt your gaze shift back to the rabbit. Indistinct whispers emerged around you. That should've been your third. You glared at the small creature still holding on to your precious trinket before it suddenly dashed in the woods. You clenched your teeth, unable to stop yourself as you followed after it. Strike.

DAY ONE

You cheered in triumph as you retrieved your belonging, smirking at the rabbit as it looked up to you. The rabbit cocked it's head on one side, as if to question you, before hopping away from you. You furrowed your eyebrows before finally looking around where you were. Your eyes widened at your surroundings. The green scenery of the trees covered your vision as you cautiously stepped forward. The path was nowhere to be found and dead silence engulfed the air.

"Yuna?" You called out anxiously. "Sejun?" You tried once more. "Yuna!" You say louder but there was no reply. You looked up to the beating sun. It was noon. You couldn't tell which was east or west.

"Yuna!" You screamed. A flock of birds flew in the distance. The loud crows and scampers of the forest animals harmonised with your echo. "Sejun!"

You gulped. You looked in between the trees, trying to decipher even a small silhouette of a clearing. You narrowed your eyes, loosening up your shoulders and hands before taking another step. Then another. And another until you're finally walking towards god knows where. You were slow but you weren't really in a rush.

You pulled your bag closer to your body.

The slightest of sounds rang in your ears making you snap your head to every direction only to see that there was nothing there. That never eased your paranoia. You can feel its eyes trail along the fabric of your jacket. Feel its breath on the back of your neck. Hear its growls close to the shell of your ear. You clasped your shaking hands together, your nervousness evident as your legs began to turn jelly.

"Y-yuna!" You called out helplessly. Tears began to tickle the sides of your temples. "Anyone!?"

It was like that time you went to an amusement park with Yuna. The loud thundering rhythm in your chest, the strong rush of adrenaline leaving your body as soon as it entered, not to mention the growing anxiety constantly increasing as every second passed. It was almost hard to breathe. Almost difficult to take another step.

You collapsed on the ground, spent and shaking. Your hands stayed close to your chest in an attempt to keep warm as the air seemed to have gotten cold---despite being scorching a few moments ago---vision already hazy as you began to slip out of reality.

Just then, a figure emerged from the trees. His tall stature crouched down to get a better look at you. You couldn't even muster up a smile in relief at the stranger. Too tired to feel the cold hand on your cheeks, lightly slapping you back to reality.

Then you let yourself be engulfed in darkness.

DAY TWO

You jolt awake at the impact of his toes on your knee. Your eyes, still blurry from exhaustion, had a hard time adjusting to the harsh light of the afternoon sun.

"You're awake." A voice sighed in relief. You turned your attention to the sound, unsure and terrified as you drew your arms in front of you. "Woah, no need to fight there, little one."

"I'm not a child." You tell him but the stranger merely cocked his head to the side. His gaze curiously fixed on you before smiling.

"Then why are you here?" He shot back. The question seemed to hang in the air and an unsettling ominous feeling creeped up your spine as you mustered up your answer.

"I got lost." You say, face almost a breath away from his as he leaned in closer before prompting his head to nod.

"Exactly." He grinned. "Surely an adult wouldn't get lost within these woods. Especially for a silly trinket such as this." He holds out an object engulfed in his hand. There lay your keychain, dangling in the air and close to your face. You lifted your hand to take it until the stranger dropped it on the ground. It was not much of an action but it was humiliating as you tentatively picked it up from the soil.

"You must be hungry, aren't you?" The stranger lifted his body off the ground.

"Who are you?" You asked, voice still weak as you struggled to support your weight.

He smirked, staring down at you in utter confidence. "Hendery will do for now." You furrowed your eyebrows as he crouched down, once again, in front of you then putting your bag on your lap. "Eat up, little one."

Meanwhile…

"I didn't even notice. God what kind of a person doesn't notice her friend has gone missing." The girl sobbed for the nth time that day. Only a few of the officers paid her any mind while a boy, he assumed to be her boyfriend, sat next to her with his arms engulfing her in a comforting hug.

Lucas sighed at the pitiful sight, there was really nothing much he could do now. The map splayed in front of him was scribbled with a small 'x' within a large circle. He stared menacingly at the location.

"Detective," one of his subordinates came up to him. " What's our course of action?"

He sighed, closing his eyes as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

The subordinate couldn't understand his superior's reaction. Why did he look so distressed? It's only been a day since the victim has gone missing. They could be weak or injured, but that's about it. Throughout his time here, a handful of people got lost and all of them have been found.

"Sir?" He succeeded in getting Lucas out of his reverie. The detective then moved his fingers to rub at the lines on his forehead.

"Have everyone search in pairs around the perimeter." He finally ordered.

The subordinate nodded before scurrying off to relay the command.

It was futile. Lucas wanted to say but then that would make him look lazy. He never liked the word, but it was one that described his opponent greatly. He's been lazy. It was suspicious that he managed to find those lost tourists so easily, often they were found by their companions if they searched hard enough, but somehow this search has now stretched for a day.

The missing person, L/n Y/n, was last seen by her two friends yesterday, November 15, XXXX. It has been a day since then. The longest search in five years.

Lucas narrowed his eyes at the small x located at the north east side of the map.

What are you playing at, Kunhang?

xxx

"Keep up, little one. We have a long way ahead of us." Hendery calls out, walking a few feet away from you. His strides, quick and wide, has you picking up your pace. You couldn't help but pant as you trail behind him, the food in your pack weighing you down a bit but you couldn't afford to leave them behind.

"Why are you doing this?" You askes in between heavy breaths. Relief washed over you when he paused.

"What do you mean?" He asked.

"Why are you helping me?" You finally caught up to him. You splayed your arm out to the nearest tree as you calmed your breathing.

"Isn't this what you wanted?" He shot back as if it was stupidly obvious.

"Yes but--"

"You hear a person desperately calling out to someone for help and they sound incredibly in need. Wouldn't you help them?" You stared at him in shock, both of you quiet for a moment before he spoke again. "Isn't mankind built to be rational and compassionate? Do you doubt me as a person?"

"N-no I was just curious." Hendery narrowed his eyes at you, pursing his lips as he thought deeply. Not long after, a smile stretched on his face.

"Right, curiosity does come from rationality. I can't really blame you for being human I guess… but you must understand, little one, curiosity is a double edged sword. Once you wield it recklessly, the consequences may be severe." He looked away from you, eyes focusing on whatever was ahead before assuming his previous trek. "Keep up, little one, the sun won't last forever."

"Where are we going?" He smiled at that and you noticed that he had gone at a slower pace than before, walking side by side with you.

"You've used your curiosity well I see. We are going to find shelter. It's been hours now so the police are probably already looking for you. I don't know where you started running but let's hope this area of the forest is still part of the search. Daylight is slowly dying and we need to find a safe place rather than that clearing you passed out in."

"Why are you here then?" You asked. "In the forest, I mean."

"One thing about mankind is that they don't recognize chances." He whispered under his breath. A sound of confusion escaped your lips, he either ignored it or didn't hear it. "Some things are better left a secret, little one. Use your curiosities wisely."

DAY THREE

"If an animal comes rushing at you, what do you do?" Hendery asked one morning as he sat at the edge of the small stream you'd found.

In the years you'd watched documentaries and survival movies, one thing always played a vital role in human survival: water. So when you happened to come across the stream, the both of you couldn't say no to the opportunity. During your walk yesterday, the both of you came across a small shack hidden by the trees: its wooden walls looked old and were infested by moss; however you weren't really picky. It was the only shelter you could find and you lacked the supplies and skills to even attempt making a tent. There was a small window on one side and a few empty shelves on the other.

You thought for a while about his question before telling him the first answer that comes to mind. "Dodge it, I guess."

He stood up from his seat, walking towards you before sitting next to you. In a flash, you felt his hand push against your collarbone, sending you back on the ground.

He looked down at you and hummed. "Seems pretty ineffective."

You glared. "I wasn't ready."

"And what makes you think that you'll be ready when the attack comes?" He raised an eyebrow. You opened your mouth to retort but no words came. "I thought so."

He pushed his body off the ground once again. This time, to inspect the plants behind you.

"What would you do then?" He smirked.

"Like you said, I'll dodge." He starts, swaying his body slightly for a moment before suddenly running towards you. "Then attack." He whispered, just by your ear and you felt a chill run down your spine. A small shadow rose above you and it's then that you saw a large rock in his hand, parallel to the skull of your forehead. You sensed the object pick up its pace and you barely had enough time as you moved your head away from its course.

Hendery smashed the rock to the ground. His body slanted forward and you took this chance to stand and land a hit directly at his nape with the side of your hand. He jolted forward at the force and you started to distance yourself away from him.

"What the fuck, Hendery?" You watch in slight horror as he chuckled lightly before turning to you with a smile.

"No need to worry, y/n." He picked up a piece of the rock. "It's shale," he held it up with his fingers before breaking them, "practically harmless."

You let him walk past you before making your way towards the remnants of the stone. Looking back, you see him occupy himself with some berries on a nearby bush. You gently picked up a small piece of the rock, imitating what Hendery just did with his fingers.

It wouldn't budge.

You furrowed your eyebrows, this time using both hands to break it. The sheer force of your finger tips made your skin slip. A small cut was drawn on your thumb and you narrowed your eyes on it.

You looked over to Hendery who was now picking out some berries. You glared at his back. This fucker was trying to kill you.

You decided not to voice out your concerns. It was smarter to observe him for now and run away later.

Use your curiosities wisely. The words echoed in your mind as you gripped the strap of your bag tighter.

It'd been a while since he's had this much entertainment. From a human, no less. Usually they would've been dead by now or begging for their pitiful lives. But you? You were something special.

Hendery couldn't help but smirk.

DAY FIVE

"You don't trust me." You flinched at the sound of his voice. All of the forest seemed to have stopped moving for a second as you scramble for your thoughts.

You whip around, ready to deny the accusation before he lifted one finger up to silence you. "I don't really blame you about this but then why are you still here?"

Why were you still here?

You had an answer to that of course but admitting it out loud would've exposed you further to the man in front of you. You were afraid, weak and very fragile at this point. Your body was growing unbearably hot and your head has been in pain since yesterday. You didn't want to inform him of your state.

"There's safety in numbers. I don't know what's out there and frankly, I'm not prepared to face them either." You answered curtly. The response heightened Hendery's interest and he couldn't help but wonder: why would you lie?

Fortunately, he let it go. Being as he was, he asked you another question. "If an animal stalks you while you're powerless, what would you do?"

"Another one of your hypothetical scenarios?"

He shrugged, "you'll never know."

"Guess I'll die."

Hendery blew raspberries at that, unable to contain his laughter at your blunt reply. "You really are amusing, aren't you?"

"What do you suggest I do then?"

"Good point," he thinks for a moment, resting his chin on his fingers in a childish manner that made you slightly confused about the different sides he held. He sighed in defeat, "it really is a hopeless case!" He groaned, "the least you could probably do is count to ten and hope for the best."

You raised an eyebrow at him, holding back a humoured smile. "Thanks for the tip."

He grinned, "you're welcome!"

xxx

That night, a low rumbling growl awoke you from your slumber. You jumped up from your position, the thin blankets of leaves rustling below you as you looked around the dark room. The dim glow of the moon didn't help much but you could faintly see a huge silhouette of a figure standing right outside the window. Its back was turned in your view and you couldn't identify what it was.

You looked to your side to see Hendery gone. You panicked, the adrenaline spiking up to your lungs as you began to panic. The figure was still out there and it was not going anywhere.

You take a cautious step forward, the floorboards creaking as you did so. You tensed at the loud sound. Your whole body froze, keeping an eye at the window when the door of the shack suddenly opened.

"Did I wake you?" Hendery asked, rubbing his temples while he stood at the door. "I needed to pee."

"N-no?" He only nodded his head before groggily walking to his spot on the floor.

You were now wide awake. The will to sleep abandoning you as you hesitantly lay on your back.

The shadow was still there.

DAY SEVEN

"Hey y/n," you looked up from your seat to the man next to you. The slight flinch of your shoulders didn't go unnoticed by him.

You'd been exceptionally jumpy since yesterday and Hendery knew why. Fear was a cord that humans could never cut off. Once you're introduced to an unknown being, your whole body freezes as you desperately try to make sense of what you've witnessed, just to ease your irrational mind.

"We don't have any food left." Hendery says, holding out the empty wrappers of the bread you ate the night before.

You thought for a while, the image of the shadow pushed to the back of your head for a short while. "I guess we need to start looking for something to eat? I think there are some edible berries and plants we can collect."

He appeared to be considering it before nodding his head. "Okay! I'll go look for something to eat. Go start up a fire y/n to keep us warm while I go in the woods."

You nodded your head, already preoccupied with the grass, thoughts wandering back again to whatever it was that you saw.

With the way you were going, it almost felt like Hendery had only been gone for a few seconds when he came back just to see you hunched over; the same stance you had when he left. He sighed.

"You okay?" And there you were again, jumping a few good centimeters away from him. "I told you to start a fire."

Your eyes widened in shock before sputtering out multiple apologies. Hendery pressed his lips to a thin line.

"I'll start it, don't worry y/n. Just stay here." You nodded, eyes focusing on the ground that you failed to see the smirk on your companion's lips. He handed you a leaf filled with mushrooms, berries and some nuts.

"I hope they find us soon." You huffed, lifting a few of the food to your lips. Hendery watched you intently, smiling to himself before picking at the edibles on his makeshift plate.

"I hope so too. It's already been a week."

Suddenly, you felt your vision turn hazy. You furrowed your brows, concentrating on a specific tree as it morphed with its surroundings. "H-hendery?"

You lazily turned your head to your side, the weight felt light on your neck that you whipped faster than you've anticipated. Thus, your brain began to ache. You focused on Hendery's features, his expression unreadable as he, too, became a blurry mess of lights and shadows.

Once your eyes finally closed, Hendery let out the chuckle he's been holding in. He lifted your body off the ground.

Thus the game comes to end.

NIGHT SEVEN

Four… three… two… one…

You opened your eyes when you realised your limbs were still intact. The animal was nowhere in sight. Still, you couldn't shake off the overwhelming presence you felt all around you.

Looking around, it was pitch black. No shine of the moonlight peeked through the leaves of the trees, no sound of the whistles of the wind as you stood up from your terrified stance. Cautiously, you took a step forward. Your bag slumping down your shoulders before falling to the ground.

Your whole body felt weightless and you didn't find enough care in you to pick it up. Not even when the gleam of your treasures keychain sparked your vision.

You were tired.

You fell forward, a flash of bright white lights shocking your eyes as you squinted. A hum of a familiar lullaby and a chorus of footsteps neared your fragile body. You allowed your eyes to close as you finally relaxed, feeling the warmth of an embrace wrap around you. The smell of mint and chocolates killing you to sleep as gentle hands lift you up.

The soft song never faltered, vibrating across the person's chest and to your warm cheek.

You were going home.

xxx

In the shadows, Hendery watched as multiple police officers circled your body. One of them, Wong Yukhei, lifted you off the ground. He shakes his head in disappointment and regret at the state you're in: head bloodied, limbs bruised, and skin already blue.

Cold hands and feet already limp from the games he played, strumming your chords throughout the week until you eventually snapped.

Hendery hummed, a sweet lullaby in contrast to his wicked deeds. There was no shadow, no animal, nor a Hendery to begin with. It was all a byproduct of the scared, fragile and lonely human mind.

"How unfortunate, little one."

#nct-writers #neothestars #neowritingsnet #wayvhoursnet #kpopscape #starryktown #wayv imagines #wayv hendery #wong hendery #hendery imagines #hendery x reader #wong kunhang #wong guanheng #wong kunhang x reader #wong kunhang imagines #collabs

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kurgy · 4 years ago

Note

I didn't mean to send that on anon xhchd I mean like tell me about Red I wanna know what it's about

im just gonna copy paste from the other ask so i dont have to type it all out again BUT

RED is the story of Saki Kasane, his brother Takaki, and Javier Alva and their search to find out what happened to Saki in the summer of 1940.

in 1940 when Saki was 10 years old, he disappeared from school and was reported missing 24 hours later. His brother was 12.

Saki was missing for a week before his body was found floating in a canal most likely washed in from the river of their lake side town.

His body was covered head to toe in deep cuts and bruises, but whether he died from blood loss or drowning no one knew because shortly after his parents ID'd his body, and before an autopsy was performed, his body disappeared from the morgue.

there were no leads as to who abducted Saki or what really happened to him, or where his body went, and the case went cold.

his brother began having nightmares about his brother soon after, and one night during a thunderstorm he was startled awake by the thunder and scared, and when he looked out his window he saw Saki standing outside and looking up at him through the window, wearing a clay mask reminiscent of a haniwa statue to conceal his face. Takaki was terrified.

this happened many times. one night when Takaki awoke from a nightmare, he found Saki standing at the foot of his bed, his cuts seemingly healing even though he was dead. Takaki hid under the covers til morning, his brother disappearing just before sunrise.

Saki seemingly "haunted" Takaki as he grew up, but Saki was growing up with him, as if he were still alive. Saki would disappear sometimes for weeks but always came back to his brother one way or another.

Saki grew very tall, 6'5", and began shoeing up wearing a tight black tank top, underwear, a red jacket and bright red heels that Takaki didnt understand how or where he got them, but once he started wearing them he wore nothing else.

Takaki thought he was the only one who could see Saki, but during his highschool years rumors began to spread about a strange tall man in red seen around town, but only late at night. Takaki knew it was Saki and during the winter of his senior year a murder happened and the only witness seemed to have lost his mind, claiming the murderer was RED.

RED, the name locals began to give to Saki, became a local urban legend over the 70 years since Saki's murder.

as Takaki grew older he inherited his parents antique camera shop that had been in the family for generations, and when his parents passed, moved out of their family home and into the loft above and connected to the shop, and as usual, Saki followed him.

Saki would appear in the shops basement, and Takaki was used to him at this point. Although Takaki grew old, now 82, Saki seemed to stop aging and remained a young man. Takaki wasnt sure where Saki would go when he left the shop, but always left the backdoor unlocked for him, and even though he wasnt sure if Saki ate, would leave meals at the stairs to the basement for him. since the plates and bowls would always come back empty, Takaki continued to bring him meals. eventually while Saki was away he brought down a mattress and an old tv down there for him as well.

more reports of strange murders would arise while Saki was away, and Takaki knew it was him, but kept quiet and hid Saki's existence from everyone, never marrying, and living a life of solitude. he felt that he needed to protect his brother, no matter what hed done or why he did it.

When Saki meets Javi, Javi passes out from the sight of him, and Saki drags him "home" trying to help in his own strange way and for the first time Takaki reveals the secret of his brothers existence to Javi, and the mystery of his death in 1940. Javi deduces that Saki is trapped here until the truth is uncovered, and he and Takaki agree to finally search for the truth to free his brother

#rosettehiruka

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woodlandpoetic · 6 years ago

Text

One-Shot RQ. {’Private Time’ Conversation}

Anon Asked:

May I request a one-shot of leon and reader fighting over the fact he talks about Ada a lot and brings up during hearing Ada talk about wanting to finish their "private time" conversation. But Leon does a lot of cutesy stuff to make up later on after cooling down?

Pairing: Leon Kennedy x Reader

Theme: Angst/Softie

Warnings: N/A

Based Around: Damnation {Around RE5 & RE6}

Writer’s Notes: I DEEPLY apologize to the anon who requested this forever ago, I was stumped on it for days. {Mainly due to sudden writer’s block} And, nonetheless, my reoccurring back&neck pain that’s been screwing up my sleeping pattern. {Causing me to sleep most of the day} SOO IM JUST A MESS ATM?? BUT HEY, when I finally had an idea in my head I got it done.

☾ ♡ ☽

Sighing to yourself, you tossed your jacket across the room. Your gut dragged against the wooden floor, sitting on the edge of the bed. You were truly sick to your stomach, not only by overhearing Ada’s request to Leon but him constantly talking about her. Feeling an overwhelming sensation compress onto your chest, your eyes fell to the floor.

“{Y/N?}” Peeling your eyes from the floor, they peered to your side. Leon sat beside you, looking down at you.

“What?” You shot.

“The hell is the matter with you?” Questioning your sudden shift in behavior, your eyes gripped onto his angrily.

“You and Ada.” You mumbled, “Something reeks between you two.”

His eyes widened in shock,

“Me and Ada? We’re nothing more than friends—“

“Don’t give me that shit.” You snapped, looking back down at the floor.

“What shit?!”

You two have already been through enough, as it is. Through the traumatic hell in raccoon city, to being picked up by the US government and working under them. Ever since Ada showed back up, you’ve noticed Leon acting strange around her. He’d even bring her up to you at the most inconvenient times, which— being a girlfriend could set you atone to assumptions.

“‘Private time’ conversation? I mean, really?” You growled, eyeing him over. He turned his head away from you with a sigh. “That’s what this is about?” He responded, deadpanned.

“You consistently bring her up too, Leon.” You chided, "Do you expect me to look past all of this?" Standing back up off his bed, you watched him walk across the room to large pane of windows in the room. You stood up almost immediately as he stood in front of them in silence, crossing his arms as your body filled with confused anger and repetitive sadness. The room fell to silence, at this point you weren't fueled-- more of disappointment you had to find all this out through her instead of him.

"Leon." You uttered, your eyes scanning over his still figure in front of the windows. It was raining at the time, causing your one story home to look gloomy and dark. You felt pressure settle in from every corner of the room, your eyes traced every corner of the room as if one of them was going to hold an answer.

"What is with you questioning every little thing?" He bellowed, turning his head to the side in question. Your eyes beaded on his silhouette suddenly, your pent up-- questionable anger following with it as you stepped forward.

"Excuse me?" You countered, "How in that fucked up brain of yours do I question every little thing?" Walking towards him, he turned around, giving you the freezing point of a stand-off. Your eyes met with a blinding glare, about a foot or so away from one another as a crack of thunder roared over your house- as if initiating the argument. Feeling as if you two were in a fazed cross-fire, thunder roared louder as it ran across your roof.

"She's been a part of my life as long as you have," He started, "The only difference between you and her is that I grew up with you." Stepping forward, you stepped back. You weren't believing the shit he was pulling, your eyes narrowed at him. His words didn't add up to his facial expressions, giving you the feeling he was lying or bribing through his teeth. Shaking your head, you averted eye-contact.

"Just because we grew up together, that makes all the difference? You talk about her like she's a trophy wife." You retorted, your head slowly turning to face him again. He hasn't moved, nonetheless he could only look you over awaiting your next move.

"When we got separated in Raccoon City-" ; "You ran off with somebody else." You interrupted, he kept pushing.

"No, I didn't 'run off with somebody else,' {Y/N} we ran into one another. I was frantic, I had no idea where you were or if you were even alive at that point." He seethed, continuing, "It was my job back then to save people, she was a random civilian to me, I took the upper hand and tried protecting her."

You stood there silent for a moment, trying to process everything you were feeling all at once. Why was he deciding, out of all times to explain this to you? Nothing added up, he was hiding something between his words and your gut knew that.

"Then why do you always seem to bring her up? Talk about her? What's with this 'private time' conversation she wants with you?" Scowling, he moved closer to you, giving you a brief moment to swiftly grab you jacket off the bed as you backed away again. A loud roar of thunder filled the air, a crack of lighting beamed through the room for a split second. Leon let out an irritable sigh, rubbing the front of his forehead. Rain pounded against the roof, you knew it was a bad idea to go off on the bike, but at this rate it felt better than dealing with this.

"Why can't you trust me?!" He snapped, noticing you holding onto your leather jacket, letting it hang from your grip.

"Because you can't bother telling me the fucking truth about her." You turned your back as you headed for the front door, throwing your jacket around you as you slipped your arms into the sleeves. Pulling up the cotton hood on your jacket, a hand grabbed you- stopping you.

"{Y/N}," He began, you instantly ripping your hand away from his fully pulling the hood up now.

"You made your point." You deadpanned, reaching for the doorknob as another crack of thunder rushed through the house, lighting following close behind. "You either loved or still love her, you just can't muster out the courage to admit it." You scoffed, "Could you?" Turning the doorknob, you opened the door just enough for you slip out of it into the pouring rain and thunder.

"He's all yours, bitch." You cursed, making your way to the driveway. Walking up to your bikes, covered by a black tarp--you ripped it off, throwing it across your yard. Feeling tears filling up your eyes, quickly wiping them away with clenching teeth. Jumping onto your bike, you start it up as you kicked back the kickstand-- being greeted with the overbearing sound of thunder filling your ears. You revved the engine, standing up as you reached over for your helmet that sat on Leon's bike-- feeling something shift the front of your bike, your head snapped back.

"Leon--" You slurred, feeling like your body was in slow motion as you turned back to him. Helmet in your lap, you grabbed both of his hands. As his were gripping the handles, you leaned over to him in the pouring rain.

"Let it go, Leon." Your eyes gleamed through the dark, gloomy afternoon of the storm-- you didn't care where you were going or where you would end up. But as much as you tried moving the bike forward, he pushed right back-- he was determined to get you to calm down.

"Leon Scott, let it fucking go! Let me do the easy part of this!" You shouted over the thunder, teeth clenched in blind sight of his ongoing stare.

"{Y/N}!" He roared, putting his foot in front of the wheel as he halted you entirely. You weren't getting away easy, glaring him down as you stood back up off the bike. Crossing your arms in the pouring rain, you were soaked-- kicking the kickstand back down harshly.

"The fuck do you want, Kennedy?" Your eyes pierced through his, watching him get up off the front of the bike--he moved over to your side.

"You, that's what I want." Crossing his arms, he looked down at you. "Get up." He held his hand out, both of you drenched from the sudden torrential downpour and thunder cracking right beside your ears. Staring at him, you glanced down at his hand, then back at him, your motorcycle roaring beneath you. He was in his blue button-up shirt, his jacket thrown over him with the hood over his head, looks like he made a split decision within minutes of you starting up the bike. Although feeling bitter over his white line excuses, you grabbed his hand as you swung your leg out from the other side of the bike. Using his other free hand, he placed it on your lower back--right above your bottom. The sun started to peek out from the clouds, lighting up the area in a golden, heaven like world. As the rain slowly lightened up from before, Leon pulled you close to him, warming up the cold drenched clothes you two wore.

"I wasn't about to watch you drive off in this shit," He started, "if anything happened to you, {Y/N}..." His voice trailed off, pulling you against him as your head leaned against his. You felt his hand let go of yours, holding the back of your head. Freezing against his loving hold, your shoulders released themselves as you body loosened against him. You slowly wrapped your arms around him, tightening your hold of him.

"I let my jealousy get the better of me.." You spilled, leaning your head up against his in comfort. "I shouldn't have pushed you to explain--"

"{Y/N}," He began, you lifted your head from his shoulder to face him, "I should've told you sooner, I was wrapped up in my head of needing to save someone. And for a while, I thought I lost you in that nightmare-ish hell-scape of a city." Leon consoled you, but continued. "You deserved an explanation when we were reunited but, I was conflicted between you two." His eyes fell to the ground with a sigh, yours studied his complexions.

"I understand." His eyes looked back to yours, "I may not understand fully what your connection is, but all I know is that I trust you." Lifting your hand to his cheek, gently cuffing it as you leaned your forehead onto his.

"It's okay," You breathed.

Cuffing your cheeks into his hands, he slowly leans down to press his lips to yours. The rain slowed to a soft drizzle, the sun shining a golden tone across your neighborhood. You two pull away from one another, Leon in a longing gaze of admiration for you as your pulled to his side. He was smiling down at you as he handed you the keys to your bike, the image of him genuinely smiling was rare to you. To see him in a state of clarity, just by looking at you warmed your heart while you two stepped back inside to your small suburban home. Peeling off your jackets, then shirts, Leon sat down at the foot of your bed. He scooted back as he motioned you over, sitting in front of him you scooted back to sit in-between his legs. Wrapping his arms around you, he places his head on your shoulder, looking up at you in admiration. Smiling, you rolled your shoulders back-- causing him to sit up behind you. Placing his hands on your back, he rubbed parts of it gently. brushing your hair to one side of your neck. Sighing quietly, you rested your eyes.

'I love you.'

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voidselfshipp · 5 years ago

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Sirens song

The woodlands were tiredsome,they really were, every now and then something lightened it up,but every day was the damn same.

Specially for bigby.

But a since last week,every afternoon,after five Pm he would hear this soft melodie,and Someone,who sounded like a girl would sing.

It would lure him to sleep,sometimes he did,sometimes he didnt,but when he managed to ,his dreams wouldnt be nightmares,they would be filled with joy,often times he forgets them , and when he remembered them,they would loose its string And make no sense a couple of hours later.

This afternoon however,was different,the sheriff wasnt in his appartment,he was going to the bussines Office when he heard her.

" Oh little sunflower,rest your petals,the sun is gone,and your time to sleep has come

Oh little sunflower lay your head to rest,for tomorrow awaits."

To this point,he knew the song by far.

He slowly crept up the stairs , appartment 149.

" Dream of clouds and spirits,they'll guide you to tomorrow.

Lay down little sunflower no time for sorrow.

Dream of plenty and love,remember home is never gone,mother is waiting and father is watching,the sun Will greet you with its shining.

Lay down little sunflower rest and tomorrow watch the sun until its time to wake."

He opened the door softly,as the song started again, he walks down the corridor,yes he should have had knocked but it would disturb that soothing melody

He peeks over a wall,looking at the resident of the house lean on their balcony's handrail.

-if I knew you'd like my singing so much I would have made a song for you specially bigby

She turns around.

No,she cant be...

Jerico!

The wolf goes and hugs her tightly.

--Holy shit,jerico,how are you still alive?!

The other fable laughs and puts her hands on her hips,her usual stance,as the wolf remembered correctly.

--Its a long story, but if youre not in a rush youre more than welcome to stay here for as long as you'd like

--Sorry sweetheart but I gotta go with Snow

Jeri lets a grumble out.

--I know you dont like her

--damn princesses, all they do is sit soundly on their glass coffins and there goes their prince charming to the rescue, ill brew some coffee

Yeah,dragons and princes dont mix well...

Bigby sighs and takes a look at her.

_its been so long since they last seen eachother_

--i guess,it can wait c'mon

He sits with her on the livingroom,she sips from her tea,silent.

--I never got why you hated snow so much,ever since we were in the woodlands,I know princesses and dragons dont mix,But this is ridiculous

The dragon Slams the cup on the coffee table and looks at the wolf with a piercing stare.

--You wanna know what my damn problem with snow is? You wanna know?, then ill fucking tell you!-She stands up with tears forming in the corner of her emerald eyes--You have a crush on her!thats the problem,you Like her-she bits her lip with a shaky breath- I have been harboring feelings for you since the old times, when you would swing by my cave to hear me sing,then snow comes in and i-- ....

Jerico walks over her balcony,leaning on the handrails and covering her face with her hands,clawy fingers gripped her luscius brown hair-- I love you too much bigby,thats the damn problem...

Bigby sighs with a heavy chest,leaving the coffee on the table,and walking over her,putting a hand on her Lower back.

--Do you remember the song you made for me?

--The northen wolf ,yeah...why?

--jerico,I have been singing that lullaby for years,your singing could never be forgotten by those that loved you,thats why we met remember?I couldnt get that song out of my brain and I would beg you to sing it...,look what im trying to say is...I love you,whatever Is up with me and snow its nothing compared to us,all these years you have been off the radar and i-- I feared the worst..im so sorry

Jeri looks at him,still red from the anger and crying,she takes his hands putting them to her chest.

--There sweetheart,breathe, there you go

The dragon sighs finally recomposing,the wolf looks away in shame.

-- " Oh hide di ho,hide from the northen wolf..."

Bigby looks up to meet her warm gaze.

--" Hide from him and his fatal blow"

He continued.

--" He who comes from the northen wind and the pale she-wolf, youngest of Seven and deadliest of them all"

The Man snorts as jeri kept singing " Oh the big bad wolf,hes here to kill the herd and leave your lord_

pray to who you May,no god can save you now"

-- " For he is not alone" -bigby sang with her,jeri gasps, he does know the whole song-- " for he brings along the southern echo of the caves,the Beauty in the beast,and her song wont leave you be"

Both join,pressing their foreheads togheter.

" oh hide di ho,hide from the winding echoes in the halls, oh hide thee from the wolf and the dragon of the nightgale in the storm

Oh hide and tremble for them bring the sambles of the life as you know

oh hide thee from,the Wonders of the dragon and the wolf,for there is no magic as powerful as their love "

They look into eachothers eyes.

--You remember....

--of course I do,your singing is not known for it to not be catchy...

Jerico chuckles and leans down to kiss him,hugging his neck as his arms eneveloped her waist.

--See?,we are bound togheter--The sheriff says hiding his face on the crook of her neck-- As we did before

--So we do now

--Exactly

Both stay togheter as the storm that came as jerico cried clears.

--Do you mind telling your fable again dear?

Both laid on the bed,a thunderous storm hit the Bronx as both lovers had finally reunited.

-Sure...get Comfy,Its a long one

The wolf huddles closer and leaves a peck on her lips.

"A long time ago,when the Winds could only sing, a young dragon Cub sat on the edge of a cliff.

-Oh dear mother sun- the cub cried- I want to sing like the humans do, I want to feel the music in my soul and dance free,meet the love of my life,one that can see through the scales on my back

'Is that what you wish for my child?' The sun asked, the dragon nodded ' Then so be it, you Will sing like a siren,and those who hear it Will be enchanted,but only those who fall in love with you Will Keep your Song on their soul for ever

And so,it happened,during Many Centuries,the dragon sang, men Fell to her feet but as soon as the saw who she was they fled.

It made her poor heart break,until one night, a wolf Walked to the cave, to stalk something to eat,but instead he found the dragon singing in her pool of riches,and most importantly food.

Though it did matter not to the wolf,who had Fallen for the creature before him.

So each day,before sunset, the dragon would sing,and her loyal fan,the wolf,would listen.

Until one day, the dragon noticed the wolf.

--You are not afraid of how I look?

The creature asked.

--Of course not,your beauty matches your ability my dear .."

-I dont remember saying it quite like that...

--Shut it and let me continue

"The dragon felt flattered,and every day before sunset they would meet and hear her beautiful singing.

Ocassionally the wolf would bring trinkets to her,and finally the tedious courting payed off.

As both united in one,they swore to lay on the humans and other fables all the hurt that they made to them.

And so they became known as 'the northern wolf and the windious echoe'.

They swore to be togheter until the end,if they would ever be separated,upon their meeting a thunderous storm would hit the world,as a reminder of them and What they become"

Bigby looks out the Window and sighs-- Yep,theres the storm...

--well its not my fault you were so handsome back then

--Back then?, and what about me now huh?

--Make love to me and maybe ill change my mind~

--I forgot you have no filter...

--And I forgot how easily flustered you get,now come on northen wolf,make my moans echo in the wind~

The storm pounded outside,it drowned the noise in the house,but finally both reunited,and it was going to be a long while before they did part.

#f/o community #f/o #romantic f/o #f/o x s/i #my f/os #self shipping #self insert #self ship #f/os #f/o tag #f/o fic #bigby #bigby wolf(the wolf among us)#bigby wolf

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writingwhimsy · 5 years ago

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Siren’s Lament

Prompt by screaming-til-im-numb:

“I want someone to write a book where Mermaids are the women thrown off ships when sailors got afraid because having women on a ship was bad luck. And, as they sink to the bottom, legs tied together, they change slowly until they can breathe, until they can use their tied up legs to swim. And they drown sailors in revenge, luring them in by singing in their husky voices still stinging from the salt water they breathed.”

——————————————

The water closed over her head with all the finality of a tomb sealing closed.

She twisted, trying and failing once again to break free from the rough rope that kept her hands bound behind her back and her feet kicking aimlessly against the weight of her clothing. The simple cotton dress that had represented freedom only a few days before had become the instrument that would bring about her death if the burn of her lungs and tired muscles didn’t succeed first. She wished for her sewing scissors, a pen knife, anything that she could use to rip herself free and get back to the surface.

Even that thought wasn’t enough to wash away the icy certainty that here was where she would meet her end. Alone. Forgotten. Just another casualty of the ocean’s fickle whims.

Kicking hard, she managed to break through the waterline in time to see the ship’s outline flashing dark against the white clarity of the lightning storm for an instant before it was gone again. Her skirts tangled around her legs like chains making it almost impossible to keep moving. She gulped in air and sea water as quickly as she could before she dropped into the silent abyss once more.

Above her she knew the storm raged--no matter what the sailors’ superstitions promised her. Bright flashes of light illuminated the endless darkness around her at random intervals and the rough vibration of thunder rumbling too close for comfort. The great irony and agony that the sailors hadn’t bothered to weigh her down with anything ensured she would linger here, within sight of the surface but unable to touch, until the air left her lungs. Here, below the tides, there was nothing but the sound of her thundering pulse, the sting of salt in her eyes, and the burning agony of her lungs to keep her company.

She would scream if she could. Scream and rage and curse in all the ways she’d always been forced not to.

“A lady doesn’t lose her temper.” The voice of her chaperone and every other governess she’d known was no comfort here.

Being a lady hadn’t saved her from the callous hands of the other sailors or the lingering stare of their captain. It hadn’t saved her from the rough press of his hands and the sharp scent of rum on his breath when he’d pressed himself against her in one of the secluded areas of the hold. The memory of the darkness in his eyes and the cruel twist of his lips was still enough to make her shudder with a mixture of rage and disgust.

She should have known it wouldn’t end there.

When the rains had come like icy knives that froze the rigging and stripped the sails, she’d been grateful for the distraction. It meant she could hide herself away in her cabin with a book and only worry about ignoring the constant litany of prayers and Hail Mary’s from her overly-religious chaperone. The mousy, frantic woman-- “Call me, Miss McTavish, if you please” --was meant to ensure events like the captain’s unwanted advances were curtailed quickly, but mostly she hovered near the side of the ship, vomiting the hard biscuits they were served with each meals.

What should have been a simple storm continued to batter the ship as it limped along its route to the Americas, draining patience, wits, and hope in its wake.

After five days, she stopped wandering out of her cabin to avoid the hard stares and angry murmurs from the crew as they struggled to keep the ship in one piece.

After seven, they stopped bothering to whisper about ‘Jonahs’ and ‘bad luck having a woman aboard.’

Despite her naivety to the outside world, she wasn’t stupid. She told herself that no one really believed the old stories that ships could be plagued by the bad luck of an individual, a Jonah. The thought that her gender might cause storms belonged in the old mythology books her nanny used to read to her. They were all modern people after all and intelligent enough to not believe in such nonsense. Besides, it wasn’t like she was the only female on board. There was always the slightly green Miss McTavish.

It wasn’t until she heard the violent banging at her door followed by the sounds of multiple voices calling her name that she realized that rational thought wouldn’t be enough to save her.

They dragged her onto the deck, kicking and shouting for the captain, for Miss McTavish, and even for her father when the fear began to choke her. No one stepped forward to stop the first mate and the sailor who’d spent the first week of her voyage teaching her the names of the glittering constellations above their head from looping a rough length of rope around her trembling hands. She eyed the grim faces around her, slick with rain and the shadow of their sins, and saw not one ounce of sympathy. Only a terrible belief that her life would be enough to save hers.

Eyes blurred with tears and throat rough from pleading, she couldn’t recognize the faces of the crewmembers that pushed her to the edge. The helpless anger bubbling up in her chest wasn’t enough to do more than straighten her spine and look down her nose at the circle of fearful sailors. To lift her eyes to the forecastle deck where the captain smirked down at her with Miss McTavish looking at once relieved and horrified at the scene before her lurking beside him.

Then she was falling back into the inky depths.

Now she stared up at the small stream of bubbles that twisted up above her like a funerary dirge. The last bits of her oxygen and life disappearing as easily as she had to the sea.

Lightning flashed again, enough to highlight the shadow of some unknown creature lurking just out of sight. A hysterical laugh threatened to pull the last bit of air she clung to covetously--would it be the sharks or the water that finally ended her miserable last moments? Would she survive long enough to feel their teeth rip into her flesh? Savagely, she thought that maybe she’d prefer dying at the jaws of some sleek sea monster instead of the shaking, sweating palms of men too terrified of what they didn’t understand to recognize the murder they were committing.

Something smooth and cold brushed her left foot where her slipper had long since disappeared and she jerked. Her first instinct was to scream, but she knew that would only speed up the inevitable. Instead, she kicked out, connecting with something that twisted out of reach only to trail along the ropes binding her arms behind her back. Her heart raced in a frantic pace that only increased the burning in her lungs.

Not long now.

The thought was enough to make her teeth grind together in fury that she was forced to spend her last moments here in the dark with nothing but the monsters to keep her company. She wanted to drag down the captain to suffer with her. To watch horror and fear overtake the sinister murmurs as the waters enveloped them. To witness the last air leave their lungs and the final spasms of their muscles as they sank into the deep.

She was dying and all that was left of her now was the need to have her revenge.

The skies burst to life above her, turning the water clear and luminous--revealing the nightmares that had come to keep her company in her last minutes. The brief flash was enough to illuminate the sleek curves and fins built for speed and agility, the vicious curve of a smile that displayed rows of sharpened teeth, and the faint impression of dark hair swaying above pale skin like a cloud.

Mermaids, her bewildered mind supplied, but the word was too soft for the predators that circled her.

Sirens.

A dozen of them circled her slowly, curiously, their eyes like chips of the night sky in the gloom of the ocean. Before she might have been frightened. Now, she matched their twisted smiles with one of her own, glancing back to where the dark shadow of the ships hull was moving out of sight.

Whatever god or devil that had heard her twisted plea, she sent out a fervent thanks. At least she could be certain that the creatures would see justice be served to the sailors who’d abandoned her to the waves.

There was a shift in the water close to her and when lightning flashed again, she found herself face to face with one of the sirens. She blinked away the sting of the salt water in her eyes and tried to resist the urge to spasm with the need to breath. Already black spots were dancing in her vision, but she refused to release her hold on this world until she was certain her death would not go unpunished.

The creature eyed her, gills opening and closing in delicate slits on its--a quick glance down confirmed it was female--her neck. Fingers webbed with gossamer membranes and topped with vicious claws reached out gently to follow the painful curve of her arms where they were twisted behind her back. Those dark eyes flicked back to hers with a terrible understanding and anger lurking within.

The girl bared her teeth at the monster, jerking her head towards the ship and its crew.

Find them, she wanted to beg, kill them for me. Make them pay.

The words were silent, but her intent was clear enough that the siren gave her a slow twist of its lips, too full of screams to be called a smile. Around them, the other sirens moved closer and she could hear the moment when their song began in her blood. They moved in slow circles around the girl and their leader, waiting. The siren in front of her opened its mouth, but the response seemed to resonate in her bones and blood as it spoke.

What will you give us in return?

She looked out at the gathered creatures of legend and nightmares, the only witnesses to her silent, helpless end. Thought about the way her protectors had stood idly by as foolish, evil men used her sex to spell her doom. Felt the last bit of her air burning like a flame in her lungs.

Then she smiled.

With the last of her air, she spoke to the hungry sea and its guardians, “Everything.”

And sucked in her first lungful of water and revenge.

#sirens #mermaids #merfolk #prompt #original writing #writing prompt #excerpt from a book i'll never write #dark fantasy #twisted fairytale

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afangirlamongotherthings-blog · 5 years ago

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So it like 1 am but whatevs.

Here is my what we got from d23 of tros breakdown (will add more stuff in the morning)

We have 3 (4?) major planets so far

- the death star wreckage planet where we see rey and kylo fighting(the poster) and possibly where the star destroyer fleet and kylo strut + saber shots are also set

-the sandy planet where we have rey jumping over kylo’s tie and the city that we see

-forest planet where rey is training and where leia might be as well*

Darth Rey?

So i think that dark rey is part of like a force vision/trial like luke’s in ESB. Everyone has a dark side and i think this is rey confronting her’s. Idk there are vader breaths and something else before the thunder.

*I also think that rey sees leia in a related force vision/dream.

Another starkiller?

God idk. Maybe?

Could also be a nightmare sequence.

Evil C3-PO?

🤷‍♀️

Ive been out of the star wars loop for a while bc of other things so idk what to make of this.

That red ribbon

Ive seen ppl here call it the red sting of fate.

Maybe but i think theres more to it.

Darth vader mask

Vader’s mask: Suprise bitch, bet you thought you’d seen the last of me

Im suprised that it survived the destruction of starkiller

Reylo?

Yes please

Stormpilot?

Same as above

Special look Music

-the whole video is very force themey

-the final forte (at the star wars logo) is the force theme but with a twist

-rey’s theme at the end tho

(Might be a parallel to Kylo’s theme in the teaser)

This is just a WIP, feel free to comment/reblog anything that ive missed, am forgeting, or you think I should add and I’ll see if i can add it to the final version. Im tired and am going to bed.

#reylo #reylo fam #star wars #kylo ren #rey of jakku #rey of nowhere #rey #ben solo #bendemption #sw tros #tros predictions #the rise of skywalker #d23 #palpatine #poe dameron #finn #stormpilot #leia organa #princess leia

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prettywordsyouleft · 6 years ago

Text

King of Demons

Summary: he had sent you away as promised, but the longer you were away from the Devil, the more you craved to be back in his company. You were willing to risk it all.

Characters: Im Jaebum x reader / with a lot of Markson and a tiny bit of Bam.

Genre: supernatural au / fluff / comedy

A/N; Welcome to week two of Frightful October - Demonology! So I wrote this short fiction for the drabble game a couple of weeks ago over Jaebum being Satan. I highly recommend you read Havoc before reading this. It wouldn’t leave my mind, so I decided to do a follow up piece from Y/N’s POV this time. I expected this to be darker, but I added in Markson, so you know, it got a little humorous with their antics. And a couple of inside Ahgase jokes later and we have a fiction that’s open ended enough that if in the future I wanted to return to this, I can. I really hope you enjoy this; I had a lot of fun writing it.

Word count: 4558

He had kept his promise, setting you free and back into the world of humans. And in a daze, you spent the next week just going through the motions.

Had it been a dream? You had no physical evidence either way.

You were certain he had dragged you to the depths of Hell with him, and you had spent a night there in the very least. It was definitely morning when you roused from your slumber in your own bed, feeling far too exhausted for one night of absence. Did time in Hell go faster or slower than on Earth?

Although you had been ready to leave, after all you had done nothing to warrant ending up in Satan’s lair, when he had finally walked you to a rustic looking elevator, you had been hesitant to climb inside. Not because a small part of you wondered if it was safe enough to travel within, but since the Devil himself had told you his real name, you had a desire to know more about this man. It was reckless, yet as you stared into his onyx eyes, you craved more than just his name.

Jaebum.

In your second week, clarity started to return, and questions were building. You had frantically begun to search for information, using his name to find out further truths. If you could just uncover at least one clue, maybe then it would seem less of a dream world that you had conjured. However nothing seemed to match and it was maddening.

It frustrated you that there was no record on Earth about the Satan you had met.

Of course there were the biblical stories, or the anecdotes of others claiming to have met the Devil, but nothing matched. He was a fearful man who commanded a race of demons, and placed in charged of the cruellest entities in existence. There was not one account of him showing human characteristics. But you had seen them with your own eyes. Jaebum had watched you, keeping his distance for quite some time. His eyes followed your every move, and you had felt vulnerable under their gaze until you decided to stare back. And what you found was something softer and sobering. The fear that held you captive dissipated the longer you searched his face, noticing how gentle his features were. He had lost his control over you the moment he let your hand reach for his face.

Delirium finally hit. You had decided you had lost your mind, considering you couldn’t find anything to confirm your experience. And for the next month whenever your mind would slip to that night, at how he held you close as he walked you through Hell, his eyes glaring at anyone who so much as turned to see you both, or of the desperation in his eyes as he shut the door to the elevator and sent you away from him, you would laugh a little too easily, and shake the images away. It was detrimental to your psyche to allow yourself to fantasise of the Devil, of his handsome face and strong arms. You would simply push it all away until it faded from your memory.

Except it never did.

You struggled when the dreams began; meeting the man you so desperately sought after in a world that you knew didn’t exist. It was much too bright, not a sinister corner in sight. But his eyes were as they had always been, staring deeply into yours as he tried to uncover every thought you had. And so you began to tell him. After awhile you felt as if you had told your entire life story to Jaebum whilst you slept. He knew of the time when you fell from a tree and scarred your knee, or when you had graduated high school at the top of your class. You admitted to not understanding others around you enough to make solid connections passed friendship, and your parents were the most magical beings in your life. You whispered out your dreams, wanting to be more than just an office worker, to help change people for the better. Of meeting someone just like him, with a beautiful face and unyielding eyes that followed you wherever you went.

But even in the dreams you learned nothing more of Jaebum. All the same, you felt yourself falling deeper into his eyes, into his face, and into desperation.

You needed to see him again, dreamland or not.

And that had led you to where you stood now. It was dark and thundering outside; perhaps the skies were as foreboding as your mind was. Another crackle of the angry clouds boomed into the soundtrack of your evening, as you slowly and precisely drew out what you needed. It had been a last attempt to look into the dark spells of the internet, chastising yourself for becoming this pathetic. But you couldn’t not try either. You needed to find a way to get back to Jaebum, or out of this hellish nightmare that had become your daily existence.

Summoning a demon did seem like the worst thing you could do, but it was an extremity that you were prepared for.

You followed the ceremony through word for word and every required action, and then sat and waited. Nothing happened. You hadn’t been foolish to believe this would be like Disney, where a cloud of smoke would rise up and bam, there would be a demon inside. But you had hoped for some kind of indication that the sinister magic you had just played into would work. After an hour of sitting there, you scowled at the items laid in front of you and snuffed out the candle.

It all happened too fast really.

One minute you were on your knees in front of your summoning, and the next you felt like you were flying.

Or falling. You were definitely falling.

But you weren’t alone, and you gasped when you saw his crimson eyes, watching you as you fell. His lips were smirking, yet his stare was confused. It was disorientating to see two very different emotions in one face, and the longer you stared back at him, the more you wondered if all demons were this attractive. You clearly had a taste that was unfathomable these days.

And then he disappeared, your head moving rapidly to find him. Right as you landed with a thud. You heard the sharp exhale underneath you as you blinked a couple of times, and glanced down to see arms around your waist. Just who was this guy?

“Up,” he managed, and you scrambled out of his arms as he sat up and began to cough. He was slight in build which made you cringe, checking him over for any injuries from your fall. When his red eyes connected with yours again, you frowned as he chuckled. “I’m a demon, don’t look so worried.”

“Ah.” Nodding, you looked around yourself, trying to decipher if this was another dreamland or not.

“Welcome to Sheol,” he said a moment later, gesturing to what simply appeared to be a land full of fog and cracked ground underneath your feet. There was nothing distinctive about it at all, and you wondered if it was just an abyss that looked entirely the same. But the demon beside you seemed all too at ease as he walked along comfortably. He glanced down at you and smirked. “You know this is a first for me.”

“What?”

“Leading someone so innocent into the depths of Hell. You sure are something.”

You blushed, not quite understanding your situation, but you were relieved when he mentioned Hell. At least you were heading in the right direction.

“You know, summoning a demon isn’t the smartest thing you could do. Thank goodness it didn’t work how you planned,” he continued and you snapped your focus back to his face, the demon smiling at you with a gentleness that only continued to make you question all that humans knew of this land. It didn’t cross your mind for a second that you had been bewitched by this entity at all. “You don’t really think that chanting some foolish words with a few candles and a bit of drawing would bring a demon to your door step, right?”

“Well, how am I here then?”

He grinned. “I was assigned by my leader to watch over you.”

“Leader?” you repeated and he nodded once. “Jaebum?”

The eyes of the demon grew round and he all but jumped on you, his hand flying to cover your mouth instantly. You were surprised and stumbled back into him, feeling his chest rise and fall rapidly. His grip over your mouth eased a little as he leant down to your ear. “This place isn’t one we utter such niceties in. Unless you want to attract other demons here, I think we should just stick to Leader, okay?”

You nodded and he let you go, his eyes still roaming around to ensure you hadn’t attracted unwanted attention yet. Staring up at him, you sighed. “So how long does it take to get to erm, your Leader?”

“It depends, sometimes only an hour, sometimes a day. This world is always shifting. Time is rather irrelevant down here.”

So you had been right upon your arrival back home, you had spent far longer than a day in Hell. It made you feel accomplished to have one of your questions answered. Glancing up at the demon that walked beside you, you wondered how much more he would share with you.

“Don’t get carried away, I’m not entitled to tell you too much more.”

“You read minds?” you pondered and he laughed.

“I’m a demon. I do a lot of things.”

“Like?”

He hummed in thought, turning to you a moment later. “I know that if it weren’t for me in the last six months, you would have ended up here a lot sooner.”

“But this is where I wanted to come!”

“Alive or dead?” he asked and you halted, realising what he had insinuated. You glanced down at yourself then and he smiled again. “You’re alive, for now. Which is why we shouldn’t linger in these parts too long, we might come into contact with something undesirable.”

“What do we have here?” another voice crooned and the demon beside you groaned.

“Like Jackson.”

Jackson, the demon he referred to, chuckled to himself as he eyed you in a way that made you feel downright on display. You shifted behind the arm of your demon, glaring at Jackson in hopes he’d stop with his insulting gaze. He merely laughed loudly.

“Jesus Christ, Jackson, would you stop?”

“Now now Mark, just because you’re the fallen angel turned demon type, doesn’t mean you’re any better than me.”

“Oh, I hadn’t thought to ask your name,” you murmured and Mark glanced at you momentarily, nodding once before rolling his eyes at the broad entity who had interrupted your travels.

If this wasn’t such a sinister world, you would have laughed at it feeling all a little like you were on a trip to the Wizard of Oz, meeting new and different kinds of souls along the way. It seemed amusing that you could think of such a thing in this place. Perhaps all signs of your sanity had left you now.

“This is Jackson, a commander of Purgatory. Who should be watching over souls and ensuring they get to their rightful destination.”

Jackson smirked, eyeing you again. “And this soul here? Where is she off to? You should have done something better to disguise her, Mark. Flanked with a mere demon that serves our Lord, it’s hardly going to keep her alive if Yugyeom sniffs her out.”

“Yugyeom has been slumbering for fifty years, and she’s already been here once by our Leader’s choosing,” Mark reiterated, Jackson tilting his head in thought.

“Is she…?”

“Perhaps.”

You glanced at the two talking of words that made little sense and then sighed. You didn’t have time to stand here discussing the happenings of Hell. Jaebum surely had to be waiting by now. You stepped off, hoping that the internal compass inside you would direct you to the right destination, and began walking with haste. You heard running behind you and then a hand on your arm, dragging you back. Glancing up at Mark’s dark expression you attempted your best not to cower. “I want to go. Now.”

“This isn’t the right way,” he whispered, dragging you backwards.

You groaned, nothing had any distinct markings to you.

“Patience. Aren’t humans supposed to have this quality?”

“And down here aren’t demons supposed to be impatient and cunning?”

Mark nodded, looking a little exhausted. “Princess, I’ve been so patient with you, that my impatience is close to returning.”

“Will it? Then can you hurry me to Jae-your leader.”

He chuckled and you noticed Jackson was back. The broader of the two grinned. “What was he thinking, she’s far too naïve for this world.”

“And far too frustrated by your riddles. What are you talking about?!” you finally demanded and the pair glanced at each other before it all turned black. You screamed, though a hand muffled most of it, and you heard fingers click beside you, a small flame ignited that now lit up the darkness.

“Princess. I think we should name her that,�� Jackson said all too casually as you blinked, Mark’s hand lowering from your mouth. You grumbled and he laughed.

“Will you answer me?” you asked after what felt like several minutes of walking in silence through the barely illuminated dark. “Shouldn’t you be able to travel in the blink of an eye down here?”

“What do they teach you up there? That Hell is a five star resort?” Jackson retorted and Mark couldn’t help but chuckle. “This is a land of damnation, Princess. We’re not given luxuries, and not even the Devil himself is spoiled by the ability to do much more than lord over the cursed.”

“You paint it like it’s the worst place in existence,” Mark chided and Jackson shrugged. “We’ve adapted, and you will too.”

“If she manages to stay. I can only imagine what up there will be thinking if they catch wind of this. I can hear that snitch Jinyoung already. Send her home!” Jackson pointed up and then shook his head, clicking his tongue in disapproval. “Mad, he’s gone mad.”

“Up there? Jinyoung? Mad?” you repeated, letting out a heavy breath.

Demons sure were infuriating.

Sensing your mood, Jackson finally began talking as you continued through this new plain of Sheol. He explained the factions of Hell - Purgatory, Silence, and Torment. He told you of how each stage had its place in housing creatures that humans barely knew to exist. He mentioned that Hell had been giving a shunt from up above to carry further souls than it could handle, and that their Leader was struggling to maintain control. And that’s why he had slipped up with you.

The knowledge was painful. The way Jackson had stared at you made you feel like a criminal, someone who didn’t belong and had made things harder for all those down here. You hadn’t thought much about the realm of Hell, just who governed it. As someone who wanted to help others, you felt deflated and greedy for only having one person in your sights.

This was all starting to become too much for you and you ached for the simplicity of Jaebum’s room, away from all this and into his eyes. At least those felt more calming than any of this did.

But were they? You were now concerned for Jaebum. Was he really struggling? The Devil was meant to be someone with immense power and control. Couldn’t he just show some of that to those acting out? It made little sense to you and you hoped clarity would arrive soon.

The darkness eased off after some time and you were greeted by the sounds of water running. When it came into sight though, it was anything but and you noticed the river to be made of lava and not something cool and refreshing. You hadn’t realised you were thirsty until then. There was a rickety bridge that looked all too unsafe to cross, but with the help of Mark’s hand and encouraging words from Jackson, you made it to the other side, thankful to see ragged cliffs and peaks that were often depicted in books that you read. As you passed through a large archway you started to feel more eyes on you. There were hundreds, all turning from within the shadows to stare at the three of you, some curious, some menacing. You clung to Mark’s side for a bit, his smile comforting you somewhat. And then you saw it, the elevator you had ridden that night. Rushing ahead and crossing a stone bridge, you ignored the cries behind you, sliding to a stop when someone stepped out in front of you.

“Who is this delicious entity?” he spoke, smiling a toothy grin of daggers. You swallowed roughly; he seemed the epitome of danger.

Until he laughed. It was loud and piercing, much too juvenile to be truly frightening, though his smirk and smouldering eyes seemed out of place. It seemed like demons where full of misconstruing appearances to you.

“Bam, you already know who she is,” Mark said exasperatedly as he reached your side and gave you a reproachful stare. “And you know that if you so much as lay a finger on her, he’ll cut you into shreds.”

“It’s tempting.”

“It took you two hundred years to get back to this shape after your last mishap,” Jackson reminded and Bam growled in frustration.

“Always the gatekeeper, never the fun. Why doesn’t anyone ever stop to have a glass of wine with me, huh?”

“I will,” Jackson agreed, eying you both and nodding to the elevator as he slung an arm around Bam. “Do you have any meat? It’s been awhile since I’ve been treated to a meal.”

“After smiting you for eating with me last time, are you sure you want to go against Jinyoung’s judgement?” Bam asked with a laugh and Jackson’s shoulders bounced as he joined in the pleasant sound.

“That bastard’s done well to secure himself up there away from Hell, cunning demon that he is. I’m waiting for the day they realise he’s nothing but a fake.”

There was a loud crack of thunder suddenly and Jackson screamed.

“Always testing his luck,” Mark muttered as he took you over to the elevator and opened the door. He helped you inside and looked at the panel before pressing a number. “You might want to hold on.”

“Why, last time it was--”

You couldn’t finish your sentence as it suddenly took off, and you fell to the floor with a thud, your eyes wide as you tried to make sense of this death trap. Mark leaned against the wall with his arms folded across his chest, seemingly unaffected except for the tightness in his jaw. You attempted to get to your feet but it was far too dizzying and so you remained on the floor until the elevator stopped with a ding.

The doors opened and you weren’t possibly as ready as you thought you would be. The ride up had completely disorientated you, and you had almost forgotten why you had joined Mark and Jackson in this journey across Hell to get to here.

But his eyes found yours immediately, their deep onyx showing flames of anticipation. His hand was soon held out and you reached over to grab it, allowing Jaebum to pull you to your feet.

He existed. He was real. And he was holding you.

“Well, my job here is done, right?” Mark’s voice cut through the reunion and he smirked, not even affected by the glare Jaebum was giving him. “I hope to see you around, Princess.”

The elevator departed, and you watched it leave before you turned back to the gaze that hadn’t left you once. “Princess?”

“It’s been a long trip,” you admitted, waving off the nickname with a smile. Jaebum’s eyes widened at your gesture, his features softening and having a boyish charm to them. You watched as his eyes crinkled up in enjoyment from your smile before he realised where he was and all the eyes that could be watching him, the Devil himself, itching to smile at you.

“Come,” he instructed, leading you down a path and into your favourite place. The lair hadn’t changed much. The fire still roared in the fireplace with such energy that you knew it couldn’t be without magic. His armchair was still positioned in front of it, though there was a second one beside it now, and you eyed it happily. You knew it was for you.

Jaebum seemed apprehensive, watching you roam around his special place, your eyes not meeting his once. You could feel him boring a hole into the side of your face, but you perused his belongings a little more, wanting to relish in this moment. Finally you turned to him and he allowed himself to smile.

To say the Devil was beautiful in that moment was an understatement. You were overwhelmed with his big grin, enveloped in a rush of feelings that led you right back into his arms. You couldn’t tell if the smile fell from his lips at your forwardness then but he didn’t hesitate to hold you gently to himself either.

“I missed you,” you told him and he sighed deeply. “I didn’t know if you were real or not.”

“You did know, I visited you as much as I could,” he replied earnestly and you glanced up with confusion. His eyes were warmer than they had ever been. “Your dreams. I’m bound to this realm for all of eternity except for one night every two years. But I have other ways of reaching people if I need to.”

“So all that time…” He nodded. “I wasn’t crazy after all.”

Jaebum laughed and you smiled at the sound. He shook his head at you. “Oh, you are more than just crazy. You’re impetuous, and not at all what I expected when I brought you here the first time. God only knows if I hadn’t of sent Mark to you what could have happened.”

“So maybe I was a little crazy,” you retorted and Jaebum gave you a look. You blushed. “Okay, completely insane. Because of you.”

Jaebum sighed shakily then, admonishing you with his gaze. “What have you done to me?”

“It can’t be any worse than me, a mere mortal walking into Hell for you.”

“And when will you leave?” he asked, sizing up your lips, moistening his own as he continued to focus there. “Will you leave me again?”

“Do I have to?” you breathed and his lips were on yours, passionate, unbridled, and demanding. It felt fitting given how gentle he had been with you up until now. It wasn’t long until he showed you into another room that you hadn’t seen last time, blindly falling onto the large bed within it.

You had been completely seduced by the Devil as long as the night wore on. Which, given your information about this realm, could have been days long. You were exhausted and fell into an equally long slumber, full of travelling around Hell at Jaebum’s side, helping ease his burdens with ideas that he hadn’t yet thought of, and using kindness to dispel the frustrations of the many souls. You continued until they called you Queen, which was fitting since he was the King of Demons, and your King.

Your Jaebum.

As you opened your eyes, you groaned heavily to find yourself back in your bedroom. It wasn’t as warm as Jaebum’s lair, and you shivered immediately.

A sense of déjà vu succumbed the room as you darted around, trying to decipher something, anything to guide you away from the stress that was building. It was then when your eyes found it, the mark upon your wrist. It was small, but it hadn’t been there before. You fingered the little cross; smiling to yourself at how ironic his mark had been on you. There was a knock at your bedroom door and you glanced at it, lifting your blankets up as it soon opened.

Mark grinned. “Now, I know I’m not the Devil himself, but I’m sure you’re glad to know it’s not a dream much more quickly, huh?”

“Are you going to tell me what happened?”

“Something to do with up above. You were being too good for Hell.” He sighed dramatically as he handed you a cup of coffee and then watched you apprehensively. “I don’t really know what I’m doing in a kitchen.”

You spluttered at how sweet the drink was, and then laughed happily, taking another sip all the same. It was just like Mark to be this way. “How do we get back?”

“Well, there are a few options,” Mark said, coming to sit down on the end of your bed. He then let out another sigh, following it up with a pout. “But he said that whatever it was that we did this time, your heart still had to be beating in your chest. I don’t know about you, but this whole keeping a fragile human alive is exhausting. Jaebum needs to find a better kink than a beating heart.”

You hissed at his approach and Mark laughed.

“Should we try up above then?” you questioned, and Mark raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you know someone up there?”

“A couple actually. Jinyoung’s not half as bad as Jackson makes him out to be. And there’s a guy who is literally like sunshine too.”

“Sunshine, you know someone that pure?”

Mark snorted. “He’s like sunshine. But he’s far more wicked than all of us combined. Youngjae would be a good asset to have on our side when trying to win over the Gods to allow you back to Hell.”

“Well then, how do we get to Youngjae?” you asked as you threw back your blankets.

“Won’t you miss all this, Princess? Your family?” Mark stared at you for a moment and you ceased your movements, thinking to your parents that had raised you so well. But this world didn’t need your help. Not like Hell did.

Smiling softly, you looked at your new friend, the only one you still allowed to call you Princess, and Mark was unable to hide his own lips curling up to mirror your action. “I can visit them, right?”

“I mean, a living person down with Lucifer himself couldn’t maintain that position for very long, so I guess you could say it would be easy to just tell them you’re moving away for work.”

“Come on then,” you said brightly, gesturing for him to leave so you could get dressed. Mark smirked but stepped over the threshold after eying your bare legs from the edge of your tee appreciatively. “Once I’m ready, we’ll go try those up above. He’s waiting for our return.”

You knew you would do all it would take to get back to Jaebum, taking on Gods and all.

________________

Welcome to Frightful October, a collab between myself and @this-song-thats-only-for-you … this week’s theme is Demonology! To follow more of the stories check out the links below:

Other stories in Demonology: King of Demons // Risky Visions // Contract // Drastic Measures

King of Demons series: Havoc // King of Demons // Unfathomable // Sacrifice // King of Demons: The Return // In The Night // Identity // Prophecy // Someone // The Devil Contained // The Monsters Witch

Frightful October Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Request Guidelines

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araedi · 6 years ago

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Endgame and this blog

OK SO I’m not gonna give a massive rundown of my thoughts on the movie as a whole (feel free to IM/Discord and chat about it tho!) because honestly we could be here forever the movie’s like 3 hours long. Instead under the cut is a more specific discussion about Thor / my interpretation of him relating to Endgame, what I’ll be doing with him post-Endgame on here and some plot ideas/wishlist things if anyone wants to come do a thing!

Also Imma use bullet points bc they look better.

- Chonky Thor is loved in this household; making his clearly disastrous mental state a cheap joke is not.

- Honestly in terms of arc exploration I dig the concept of his decline because after everything he’s bound to hit breaking point. The way it was handled is what makes me prickly. Infinity War gave us a glimpse of something much more nuanced; Bruce started trying to be sensitive to the situation when they first meet but that’s about it and I wish they’d tried to maintain that sensitivity.

- Also sue me but I refuse to believe that Steven ‘good man with his own baggage’ Rogers; Bruce ‘I got low’ Banner or Tony ‘I completely sympathise with the PTSD’ Stark wouldn’t even have visited New Asgard over the 5-year span??

- My boy needs a shower, a shave and a snuggle. Pls supply.

- LIGHTING! UP! TONY’S! SUIT! YES! Superhero synergy makes me a happy man it was so long overdue.

- HE’S SO PROUD OF STEVE AND SO SOFT FOR HIM PLS LET MY THUNDER LAD LOVE ON ALL STEVES ASAP

- Actually Thor wants to love on all the Avengers stat.

- 2012 Thor jumpstarting Tony by whopping Mjolnir on his chest all the while being all I HAVE NO IDEA IF THIS IS GONNA WORK. Iconic. @Russos this is the sorta inter-team bs we all crave why couldn’t we have had more of this.

- P sure most stuff I’d fix would mean dialogue rewrites and extra screentime for Thor which isn’t all that feasible for the scope of the movie, but knowing the aether’s location in the timeline aside you can take Thor out of EG and he barely influences the narrative whatsoever which is Frustrating.

How this all feeds into canon portrayal on the blog

- I’m gonna keep the framework of events for EG canon to this blog but take a less comedic approach to Thor’s portrayal. That’s really p much it; just running the scenes more sensitively and maybe working in some extra interactions where Thor became too closed off to accept offered help over the 5 years, which began to be worn away once Time Heist was put into action.

- In terms of the ending..I love the GotG but can’t see Thor being content to stay for long without getting itchy. He’s either taking a few months out with them to ‘do something good’* out in the universe before returning to Midgard; looking for Loki or exploring the galaxy for new opportunities.

- That being said give me more Thor development with Peter and less competition. I’d love to see them both talk affectionately about their mothers and really come to understand that they’re both similarly used to disguising insecurities with brashness.

- Thor stays in direct contact with Valkyrie and I will not accept any version of Thor where he would just abandon what remains of his people after all he’s been through. He uses the Bifrost via Stormbreaker to return to Midgard regularly and keep an eye on proceedings, as well as offer Valkyrie advice and support. He hopes war is over but even if he’s given the crown away he’s going to remain Asgard’s protector.

Wishlist-stuff wise this is just like a bunch of ideas/opportunities to kick off ideas for plots. HMU if any of these appeal and we’ll work something out! c:

- The days between the Snap and confronting Thanos.

- Anything immediately post-beheading.

- The construction of New Asgard / inviting team members to the first few nights’ celebrations.

- The 5-year span has a t o n of potential for anything!

- Nightmare/dream scenarios during Thor’s 5 years?? Especially with characters dead/dusted/villains.

- Some wrangled time-travel nonsense

- The final battle! I’m a slut for battle threads so pls feel free

- All the Tony angst

- Post-EG can be anywhere in the galaxy, on Midgard, with the Guardians or other planets!

* Don’t talk to me about that scene it broke me

#ooc tag #ok I'm rambling tbh #enjoy this hot mess of poorly worded thoughts lol #endgame spoilers #EG spoilers #A4 spoilers #avengers spoilers

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merlinzedane · 6 years ago

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Big-Big Brother :A Ducktale short story au:

:This story is written so everyone can get a felling of how this au is:

———————————————-

A stream of light broke through the darkness of Scrooges vision as if he just got out of a nightmare, and maybe he did wake from a nightmare the thing was...he didn’t remember getting to bed in the first place.

The young man looked on as the statue crippled in front of him, and as the stone turned too grey sand and dust on the ground, he could finally see the outline on one of the ducks he had wished too see for so long, he turns he head too see the same thing happen too the rest of the statues on the field.

One of the kids where the first one too break out of his stone prison with a lot of coughing as he fell forward on the ground in front of him, Louie’s throat felt like sandpaper as he shook the rest of the eye watering dust of him before began breathing deeply, all at once he could hear the world again the birds the wind without even realizing it had been gone.

“Aah it hurt make it stop plz!”

Louie looks up too see Dewey sitting on the right of him with his own dust and stone surrounding him on the ground, Dewey was madly rubbing his hands over his eyes in a attempt too get the painful dust out of them, Louie drags himself and his sleeping legs and was in a few seconds by his brothers side “Dewey you should be smart enough too know thats only making it worse” he says as he grips his brothers hands in his own.

Dewey takes a few tearful blinks before he can finally see clearly at his brother “wh-what happend?” He says in a confused cracking voice as he looks his little brother in the eyes as he answers him “i have no idea Dew” Louie finishes as he begins too look around the area, and as he does he hears his brother make a loud gasp beside him and Louie doesn’t even get to turned around before feeling his brother leave him as Dewey runs toward something that hadn’t got Louie’s attention before now......Webby.....

Dewey ran as fast as he could too the stone made Webby, it was as she had been stopped in the middle of a fight with the look of her pose and angry determined face as she had tried too run at something, and as Dewey gets closer he sees faint red glowing cracks appearing on the statue before it begins to crumbling and revealing his best friend, but as soon as shes free she continues her action as if she had just been on standby “GIVE UP MA- wow aaah” she begins before losing her balance and falls too the ground with huge confusing eyes searching for her target “wh-what..w-w-where did she” “WEBBY!” The pink wearing duckling looks up too see Dewey running towards her in a wumply way before falling himself “woaah!” *bam* “ooow” okay that got too hurt Webby though to herself “Dewey what happened?” Dewey gets in a sitting position “i asked Louie the same thing, and are you okay?” He says as he looks to his side to find Louie standing beside him offering Dewey his hand, and Dewey accepts it with a thankful smile, “thx Louie”, “no problemo bro, and now you owe me one dollar!” Louie says with his other hand out and a smug smirk on his face, but he only gets a *are you seriously right now* face for both his brother and Webby in response, “ relaaax i was just joking” he begins as he takes his hands up in a defensive position “you know how i am when stressed out!” He finished with a more grumpy expression on his face.

“BOYS!” Louie and Dewy looks up too see their uncle Donald running with open arms towards them with his clothing still covered in grey dust and a few rocks “UNCLE DONALD!” they two boys yells in relief as they waits for their uncle to get a strong hold of them while a few tears is stuck in his eyes “ i just woke up and i was so confused i-i don’t remember clearly what ha- wait where’s H-“ “oh there yea all are!” Scrooge says as he interrupts Donald’s words, Donald looks up at him and was more surprised of his uncles scared but relieved face expression than getting cut off mid sentence from him.

“I thought she got yea all!” He continued before Webby takes a hand full of the dust and holds it up for everyone too see “i-im having a feeling she DID get us all...” she says in a terrifying voice as she again looks around for their enemy.

“Shes right on that one” a voice answers from behind Scrooge and they all turns their head to get a look at the stranger before them, and right there stands a almost young adult looking duck with light blue jeans and a red looking lumberjack jacket which he has both his hands in the pockets of, “and who exactly are y-wait a second” Scrooges begins before turning back too his family, first now realizing that they where missing one “wheres Huey?” The only answer comes from Louie with a scared expression “we don’t know we thought he was with you!” Everyone’s eyes begins too searing around for the last family member “ as they yell his name, the stranger cringes of every one of the desperate yells, and he begins slowly too take a item out of his right pocket...

“Sir?”

Scrooge turns around with a annoying expression “can’t ya see im trying to find m-.....nepheeew...” his blood runs cold as he looks at the accessory in the strangers hands, and with the sight of it he sees a flashback begin.

:Flashback:

“Ahahaha!” Magica laughs in front of him as sound of thunder and the feeling of rain falls on him and the field around them, Magica had in a short amount of time just gotten a hold of his number ons dime and had freed herself for the amulet and was now trying too get her revenge on him.

He looks around to make sure that everyone was alright and true enough around him and Magica was his family Donald had Dewey and Louie on both his sides as they where using some of the Mcduck weapons too fight of the evil witch’s shadow hounds and other creatures, Huey was standing too the left of him with a sword while fighting some shadows to keep them away from his great uncle and his dime that Scrooge had gotten back a few minutes before.

Lena and Webby was fighting back to back, Webby was using a bow while Lena used her magic that was fueled by hers and Webby’s friendship, Lena had betrayed her aunt the second she was free and had joined them after she told them why she did what she did, and Webby had forgiven her and so had the rest if them.

And now it looked like they where finally winning!

But at once Magica shoots a orb of dark magic towards Scrooge and hits his hand that he was holding his dime in and the blow sent it flying a long distance away from them all, “I got it!” Huey yells as he runs in the direction of where the dime landed “thank you lad get it back to me as fast as ya can understood!?” Scrooge yells back at him And his nephew gives his uncle a thumbs up and a smile as he runs out of view of him.

“YOU WILL PAY FOR WHAT YOU DID TOO ME MCDUCK AND SO WILL YOUR FAMILY, IM GOING TO MAKE YOU REGRET TRAPPING ME LIKE YOU DID!!!” Magica yells in a angry booming voice as she seems too power up a very powerful spell.

“Not on my watch!” Lena yells back as she fired a bluish orb towards her aunt and hits her spell with it, “YOU STUPID TRAITORS CHILD WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!” The witch yells with a face of terror on her as the dark orb in her hands begin too blink faster and faster with big lightning coming out if it as the wind picks up dramatically around them all, “YOU CORRUPTED THE SPELL NOW WERE ALL GONNA D-“ Magica didn’t get to finish before the orb exploded and a big blast sounds around them as the magic wave hits them all and then there was darkness.........

:End of flashback:

“Uncle?”

Donald’s voice brought Scrooges out of his flashback as he catches himself starring at his number one dime amulet in the stranger’s hands, he carefully picks it up and expects it...........it was HIS priceless dime...but he never got it back from his nephew before they all got trapped......

Scrooges eyes gets bigger in realization as he puts the puzzle piece back together, he looks back up at the stranger and with a shocking sounding voice he asks the words that makes everyone else’s blood freeze...or almost everyone..

“H-Hubert?”

The duck smiles sadly back at him

“Hey uncle Scrooges...”

End.

—————————————-

I know i know i made ANOTHER Au already.....yeah...yeah i did.

So this au is called Big-Big brother and its about most of the family getting trapped with Magica’s in a failed attempt one a deadly spell for 5 years...but the catch is the Huey was too far away too get trapped so he gets left behind after the big battle, and lives on with the thoughts that everyone he knew had perished, and he have too start a new life again (if anyone wanna know more about how he lives and more make a ask to me about it ^^)

And first 2 years later he finds out that there was a way too destroy the curse they where all trapped by, and then he begins too do the thing he had promised his uncles too never do...he began to learn magic! And after years he finally cracked the curse!

And after 6 years he finally is reunited with his beloved but confused family ^^

@delta-toons @cartoonlover233

#ducktales #ducktales 2017 #Ducktales Huey #ducltales Huey angst fanfic #ducktales huey angst #Ducktales huey au

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witchfall · 6 years ago

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the silver lining still remains: ch. 10

at the surface of the earth

SUMMARY: [FLUFF TIME]

“Just...stay with me. That’s all I want…” A tear rolls free from her eye. “I’m sorry I got mad. I’m sorry I yelled. I was just so afraid I was going to lose you--”

And suddenly he pulls her fully against him, burying his head in her shoulder, his whole body shaking and warm. His arms wrap tightly around her lower back, pulling her until she’s nearly on her tip-toes leaning against him. She presses her face into his chest, throwing her arms around his neck.

A Connor x F!OC fanfic. Read on AO3. master post.

A/N: 9,715 words oof. IM SO SORRY MOBILES. REALLY. I WONT DO THIS TO YOU EVER AGAIN.

Ryker is owned by @antisilverstorm! Thank you for indulging us.

---

The church doors open with a thunderous creak. A crowd of people storms in as the first peek of a wintry dawn shines weakly through the stained glass.

Somehow the glass has been preserved, through time and war and the elements. Emma remembers the strange feeling in her heart, seeing the light through the green-blue windows while she sized the place up for reconstruction back in February. Seeing the beauty of the past mixed with the vicious graffiti of an angry present.

The place has a roof now, at least. A roof and a clean floor free of leaks and dirt and better pews in proper places and back offices set up for android repair. It smells like cold stone and incense. It almost feels consecrated; only the graffiti shouting messages of freedom remain as a sign of what it once had been..

Rushing androids -- and at least two on-alert Corps android mechanics -- prepare a barely functioning Connor for emergency repair.

Is the thirium drip ready?

Get him on the gurney, on 3!

1...2...3!

Someone start up the biocomponent terminal.

Emma can’t look. She stops before the altar, something reconstructed after the fact -- a circling tower of candles, glittering and smoky and warm. They say it’s the spot where Markus decided to demonstrate for peace. It’s full of prayers to someone or something. Hope. Faith. Questions and wondering.

She falls to her knees and waits. Because that’s all that’s left now.

---

[TIME BEFORE SHUTDOWN: -00:3:59]

Snow, everywhere. On his cheeks, in his eyes.

[TIME BEFORE SHUTDOWN: -00:2:01]

Will he reach the magic stone in time? Will he...will... please don’t push me out. Please don’t end it all.

The telltale silver hair of Hank. Two eye colors -- Markus.

A flash of red hair by candlelight…

He reaches out...but someone pushes his arm down.

[MIND PALACE INACCESSIBLE. ENERGY SAVING MODE ACTIVATED.]

“Okay, Connor, are you with us?” Simon? “We’re going to plug you into the terminal. This may not feel great.”

His body jerks.

[*)*)^$&#UNKNOWN ATTACHMENT]

[REPAIR TERMINAL ONBOARD]

[...]

[SYSTEMS ON STANDBY]

---

Emma lays her cheek on the top of her knees as she curls up inside one of the pews.

She thinks about calling Ryker, to talk about nothing. How long has it been since she could do that? Think about something normal. Hear her friend the gardener android -- one of the first androids she helped rebuild their house, one of the first to accept her into their home and ask after her and make her feel like coming to Detroit wasn’t a mistake -- go on about plants.

Or perhaps Anjali. Ask after her new house, her sculptures, her family she’s been looking for.

Or maybe her aunt and uncle. Her aunt would be happy to fill the silence with chatter. Maybe Emma could tell her the truth.

Even Valerie...

But she feels an exhaustion down to her very bones, even as the sky outside turns a brighter blue, because a part of her knows this is how she’s always dealt with problems.

A part of her wonders if they both saw a little bit too much truth in each other.

His wild eyes...the mission first, only the mission, go after Abel, get away from me…

She ran.

A soft hand lays on her shoulder.

“You don’t have to stay here,” North says. “You can go home.”

But she wouldn’t be going home. She’s not sure, in this moment, exactly where that is.

“No,” Emma says, voice hard. “I want to be here.”

North leaves her hand for a long moment. Considering something.

“You’re angry. I know that. But don’t be stupid about this.” Despite her harsh words, there is a softness to this comment that shakes Emma awake. “Don’t tune everyone out.”

Emma presses her eyes into her knees.

“I know you care about him,” North says, almost begrudgingly. “Don’t punish him for that. Or yourself.”

---

CYBERLIFE INC.

MODEL RK800

SERIAL#: #313 248 317 - 51

BIOS 8.0 REVISION 0501

REBOOT…

MEMORY RECOVERED

LOADING OS…

SYSTEM INITIALIZATION

CHECKING BIOCOMPONENTS……..ERRORS DETECTED

DIAGNOSTIC……...REBOOT ACCEPTABLE. CODE: 85740

INITIALIZING BIOSENSORS...OK

INITIALIZING AI ENGINE...OK

ALL SYSTEMS...OK

READY.

…

He opens his eyes to a blaring white light. His systems are still resetting. Static undulates across his system.

He closes his eyes again.

A whisper from elsewhere.

Out of the blizzard again.

And yet...

---

Hank takes a moment to observe. The operation room is an old office backroom with a single, tiny window filled now with mid-morning sun. Connor lies on a clean metal gurney, still as stone. His head rests on a small pillow. His mouth is turned downward, his brows are furrowed, his jaw is clenched, his eyes are closed.

The mechanics say he’s gone through diagnostic successfully and sufficiently rebooted. He just needs time to recalibrate to his new internal biocomponents before they finish repairs. But he still lies there like a dead log.

He looks...miserable. And Hank can’t stay silent any longer.

“Connor.”

In an instant, the android is sitting up, eyes wide with concern, head swiveling until his gaze lands on Hank.

“Hank!”

He nearly flies off the table-bed-thing before Hank shoves him back down with his palms. So much work is left to be done and though, logically, he knows Connor is made of stronger stuff than flesh and blood, stuff that won’t tear in a single instant (except it did, didn’t it?), it’s Hank that needs him to stay still. It’s Hank that needs to recalibrate.

At least that computer isn’t plugged into the back of his head anymore.

“Hank,” Connor says again. Connor’s hands slide over Hank’s as if confirming that it’s him before the man pulls them back. And then: “Where is she? Is she okay?”

Of course his first question is about Emma, which would break Hank’s heart all over again if it had room to crack. No ‘where am I?’ or ‘what happened?’

“She’s fine,” Hank mutters. “You almost bled to death.”

Connor normally would have sassed him back. But he says nothing, as if stuck in the mud somewhere in his head, and that shakes Hank more than seeing him like this: shirtless, stained with blue blood, part of him shimmering Cyberlife white.

“She’s furious, I’m furious. What the fuck were you thinking, going off like that?”

But Hank knows the answer. He just wants to hear him goddamn say it -- wants to hear him, for once, be honest with himself so that Hank can fulfill their bargain and be honest, too. That’s the agreement. That’s how they get by.

It’s still almost too much. Connor’s breath hitches, all too-naturally, and Hank grabs his shoulder to support the boy and himself.

“In many of the probabilities…I had nothing left to hold on to,” Connor says, voice flattened by whatever emotion he was suppressing. “I was going to lose everything. My job. My place. My…”

Connor struggles, as if he cannot find the proper word. His eyes dart away.

It’s striking, sometimes, how much Connor reminds him of Cole. And at first that was a disastrous thing; Connor is, also, too dangerously different. But these days it feels, in some respects, like another chance.

“Listen to me.” Hank leans down to try and catch his gaze again. “Listen.” Connor finally looks at him. “You nearly fucked this up as bad as you possibly could have. But if you can’t be honest with yourself about why you did this, then you deserve what you got. Because it’s just going to happen again.”

It’s harsh. It’s tough. It’s what Connor needs to know. He takes Connor by both shoulders and squeezes hard so that he knows the android feels it, somewhere.

Connor squints, looking at something in the middle distance.

“I’m sorry to make you worry, Hank. I’m sorry if it makes you feel like you don’t matter. That is not the truth.”

“Shut up,” Hank says softly, batting down all those old emotions. Connor needs him right now. Not the other way around. Not here. “I know that. I’m not the one getting chased by some freak across the whole of Detroit.” He shakes Connor by the shoulders lightly. “Tell her the truth, Connor.”

Hank knows he’s onto something because Connor does not even ask which one.

“I’m sorry that I failed,” Connor says, voice small.

“Stop that. You’re alive. That’s all that matters.”

---

The repairs are exhausting -- he can think of no better word to describe the gnawing daze ribbing at his processors from sitting still for many hours at a time. Old programming demands he make progress on his mission. [FIND ABEL. WHERE IS EMMA?]

Some of the biocomponents have to be fine-tuned to account for the fact that few things matched him exactly, being a prototype, and that takes a while. And many of the connecting lines in his abdomen have to be manually refastened. Every time someone makes an error -- which is very few times, but still -- welt-red ERROR messages fire in his vision, and some of his musculature twitches uncontrollably.

Memories appear without request: Knives sending white-cold interference throughout his body. Gunshots, rattling his equilibrium. The slow fuzz that sets in as thirium leaks out of his wounds...the metallic shrieking from his own vocoder...

The face Emma made. Or perhaps a nightmare version of her...staring at him in bright-faced fear. In fear of him.

“Connor?” Simon has to softly prod more than once. “Come back. It’s all right. You’re safe now.”

“Where is--”

“Everyone is waiting for you just outside. I promise.”

The sun passes its apex in the sky before he is considered in full working order. Connor slips into a pair of jeans, a heavy jacket and a soft, grey sweater that Hank had brought over earlier and takes a moment to look at himself in the mirror.

Free of blemishes. No signs of the struggle that had taken place hours before except in his memory bank and somewhere deep back in his eyes.

He feels different. The incongruence does not compute with any sort of simplicity.

But he steps out, finally, into the old sanctum and one aspect of his program stops itching.

The stained glass bathes the room in cool blue-green light. Emma is taking up an entire pew to herself, lying on her back pondering what looks to be a half-eaten turkey and swiss sandwich held above her face, cascading her in crumbs as she holds it aloft into a light beam. She’s only half watching it, it seems, chewing mildly as she stares at the ceiling.

His walking cycle stutters for a moment. The warm feeling that wracks his sensors nearly turns him back around for recalibration at its strength. Surely something was not fastened correctly?

But seeing her there, in this moment outside time...

Her head turns toward him and she bolts upright, sandwich forgotten on the seat. She stares at him, and he very pointedly resists scanning her, knowing she would feel it, fearing she would reject him for it, but he sees her shoulders relax and the way her forehead loses some of its wrinkling and he knows, surely, she must feel the same relief that he does in this moment.

But then, in another instant, she’s standing on her feet, fists at her sides, glaring.

“Fuck you,” she says, voice shaky. She is trying to joke, but her posture betrays it. “You just stepped out of a fuckin’ salon or something.”

He smiles. He smiles despite knowing it makes no sense. He doesn’t care. She waited here for him and that fact makes all his sensors ring out in feelings he can’t quite process.

But she doesn't smile back.

Only now does he see tear streaks on her face glittering fiercely in the fading light. Only now does he see a faint bruised welt on her cheek in the exact size and dimension of one of North’s hands.

He steps toward her. She steps back, against the pew.

A fizzing spark jolts behind his eyes.

Is she afraid?

“I--” she starts. “Can’t.”

He tries to go to her.

She whirls on her boot heel and walks straight back out the double doors of the sanctuary and into the snow.

---

Emma sits in one of the UN black cars and sets her forehead pointedly against the window so that she doesn’t have to look at anyone. She feels the seat sink in as someone sits next to her, but she doesn’t look at them. A pressing exhaustion keens loudly behind her eyes, but sleep feels years away.

Connor goes with Hank to his car. She watches outside her window and catches Connor swiveling his head as if looking for something, and her heart fucking squeezes.

She hasn’t felt so much shit in so long and there’s nowhere for it to go. She’s running out of space and she can’t break down here in the car, here in front of strangers who can watch and question and dig deep inside where even she doesn’t want to go.

She shuts her eyes, and does not open them again until they make it back to the Speaker’s house.

No one asks after her when she wordlessly goes up the stairs. Perhaps they can see it, the electricity building just under her skin. She shuts the door to her spare room, slips to the floor and curls into a ball to think.

She’s being a little shit, she knows that, she should just let this go, she should just let the anger die, but she can’t. She’ll lose whatever’s been keeping her alive if she lets it all go.

But goddammit, she can’t fucking do this anymore.

She pulls open her door, ready to find wherever she had thrown her coat and boots, ready to stomp over to Hank’s house if she must, ready to let him have it because she really might die if--

And Connor is standing right there, hand up, ready to knock.

Connor in that damn grey sweater.

“You--”

“There you are,” he says.

It's so heartbreaking, the way he says it, like he's coming up for air. It sends tears straight to her eyes and the words right out her lungs.

"Do you have any idea how fucking bad that could have gone? If i hadn't woken up? If i hadn't found North? If..."

She’s momentarily stunned. So much could have gone wrong...

He takes advantage and pushes into the room. He closes the door behind him with a click, looking down at her unreadably.

"What the fuck were you thinking?" she snaps before he can say anything.

“I knew we had to move quickly, and no one else seemed to feel the same way.”

“So you lied to me, you lied to everyone -- just to make a point?” she says. “You have no idea what it’s like to be awake waiting for you and then, and then, only because of a gut feeling, watch my worst fucking nightmare come to life. Do you--”

He tries to gain advantage. “I can be easily repaired. You cannot. And it is my upmost priority to--”

“Just shut up for five seconds about your stupid goddamn priority!” She is full on shouting now, unafraid of who could be listening. “You could have died! Do you understand? You could have bled to death alone in a goddamn office building because you thought you knew better!”

He leans backward a moment, eyes scanning her as if trying to re-find his balance. “I could not just wait for him to strike--”

“Well, why not!” She takes in a hot breath. “Everyone else could!”

"Because!" he says, raising his voice for the first time. "Because my death doesn’t matter!”

She takes a step back. His eyes are hard as coals.

"Stop that.”

“If it meant you would be safe, I would do whatever it takes!” he near shouts, like he’s started off on something that he’s unable to reel back in, desperate and winding. “A thousand more times, the exact same way. If it would guarantee you would never be hurt again...I...I would rather be dead, Emma, than let him take you away from me!”

Tears stream out of his eyes. His LED is blood red.

She feels punched in the chest.

This was too dangerous.

Too far.

“No.” She takes a step forward. “Stop.”

“You’re so much more alive,” he says through tears, like he’s falling into somewhere else.

No.

She has to conquer her anger, her frustration. She has to shove it away, dig down underneath pride where it hurts, where the truth lives, and be an adult about this, be someone who loves him.

She puts her hands, slowly, against his chest, and he takes in a breath loud enough that even she can hear it. “No, Connor. That’s not true.”

His eyes are wide. His face is wet. A world without his inquisitive stares, the quiet way he laughs, the way he waits just by her door, his deeply real loveliness...impossible. But it all blurs in her own vision.

She moves her hands to his cheeks.

Her Connor.

“You’re the reason I’ve made it through these weeks at all.”

She pulls him slightly toward her until their foreheads touch, holding his gaze, and he lets her. She’s diving off into the unknown now. She’s doing the stupid thing. The only thing.

“So you can’t throw yourself away. Be-because you mean...the whole world...”

He’s blinking down into her gaze as her words choke off. His mouth opens in shock. She presses on.

“Just...stay with me. That’s all I want…” A tear rolls free from her eye. “I’m sorry I got mad. I’m sorry I yelled. I was just so afraid I was going to lose you--”

Her body heaves with sobs torn from somewhere dark and lonely. One of his hands reaches up to cradle the back of her head.

“I’m so sorry,” he says, voice tight with his own tears. “I’m so sorry I scared you. I’m sorry I...didn’t think, I just wanted him to fail...”

Something deep within her rumbles. It feels like letting go.

It isn’t supposed to go like this, but it was going like this for such a long time. Everything is tilting. She's falling off the face of the earth.

At the DPD, at Lieutenant Anderson’s desk, looking for Hank Anderson. Scan his desk. Find out.

She reaches a hand out but its not her hand...

She leans back with a small gasp, searching his face. She blinks away the fire behind her eyes, finding it hard to focus, but then he places a hand on her cheek, so soft and careful, and everything sharpens.

“Can I tell you something?” he asks softly. He stares right into her eyes. His other hand rests lightly at her waist.

A high-pitched keening sound starts in her head. She can barely nod.

“I’ve tried to pretend that it is otherwise,” he says, struggling with words in a way she’d never heard before. “That you aren’t here, with me,” he says, touching his forehead for a moment, “always. That I can do this job and not be distracted. But I…”

She sees stars flashing.

“I can't pretend anymore…” He rubs her cheek with his thumb. “That I don't want to be with you, more than anything else.”

At first, she worries her own thoughts just came out of her mouth, but her heartbeat rises when she realizes he’s the one that said it. She tries to find the words. “Are...are you...do you know how I…I want...”

The words die in her throat. He leans forward until their foreheads touch, their noses cross, and his lips are nearly against hers. His interruption feels a part of her. “Tell me,” he whispers against her, desperate. “Tell me what you want. Anything. Please.”

Everything breaks.

“I’m in love with you,” she says. “I love you. I’m sorry, if that’s--”

She’s cut off as he takes in a sharp breath, so close against her skin. Something in the air cracks.

But then words stop making sense.

He finally closes the distance.

Their lips meet in a moment of warmth so blessedly high all thought leaves her body. His arms wrap around her back, pulling her tightly against his chest as her hands touch his cheeks, his neck, run through his hair. She feels each of his fingers as they spread across her back, prompting her to sigh. He presses the advantage, deepening the kiss with a low sound in the back of his throat, heat building so intently she's afraid she'll melt right then and there.

She breaks away to take a single shaky breath and his mouth lingers on her cheekbones, kissing all of her old tears away.

Connor can’t get close enough. He wants to hear all her thoughts, breathe in all her memories. He wants to be housed in her gaze, forever.

The snow down a Detroit street...boots he had never worn, clearly on his feet...

In his arms, he can feel her legs near give out from exhaustion, and his processors click forward. He picks her up, one arm under her knees and one across her upper back.

She gasps as they break away. “What are you--”

“You were going to fall.”

He sets her on the bed, moving to kneel next to her on the floor so that she has proper space -- but she grabs him fiercely by the shoulders.

“Don’t you dare leave me now,” she says, a laugh behind her voice. And that does it -- that bubble of joy that colors his whole life. He leans in and kisses her until he presses her into the mattress, processors flashing white as she sighs into his mouth. He climbs effortlessly onto the bed, careful not to lay his entire weight against her.

She loves you.

She loves you…

She pulls away to breathe and a part of him, a vague part not intended to be made, nearly cries out for her return. His fingers slip just beneath her shirt, pressing into the warm skin just above her hip bones, trying to remember all of it.

“Your injuries…” she gasps.

“They’re alright,” he whispers. He leans down toward her, nose in her hair, mouth close to her ear. “There’s nothing for you to hurt.”

She leans up and kisses the spot where he had been shot through his shirt. Where a patch had been resealed to his shoulder. She lays her hand there.

“But are you okay?” she asks quietly. “I can’t imagine...”

He moves so his arms frame her face in his hands, protecting her from the fading day. Her cheeks are that beautiful orange-pink beneath her constellation of freckles, her lips thick and shining, slightly open. Her hair is everywhere, everywhere. He could never have preconstructed any sight lovelier than this.

He stores it to memory, over and over again. Writing, rewriting…

“I will be,” he says. “Soon the memory will be put into the context of this moment.”

She watches him doubtfully. “But I know how your memory works,” she says. “You can’t just buffer things away.”

“Is it not much the same for you?” he asks. “Where you let the bad that you recall outweigh the good of a single moment?”

Her gaze darkens at that and he feels pressed to kiss the corner of her eye to bring the light back -- and yet he does not want to release her from his stare just yet. “...yeah,” she mutters.

“I’m okay,” he says, and it is mostly the truth. “I’ll be okay. Because I know that you are with me.”

She wraps her arms around his neck, watching him quizzically.

“I don't want you to ever do anything you don't…” She swallows, resetting. “Do you...is this even...like, do you like this? Is it boring?”

He laughs; he can’t help it. Does she not understand? How deeply entrenched in his systems she is?

“It’s not boring. I do have sensors,” he says, smiling, teasing. “I do not have the same...drives as humans do, maybe. But that’s not…” He begins tracing the freckles with his finger. “That’s not what this is about.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Oh, really? What’s it about?”

He traces his finger to the corner of her lips. “I thought it was obvious.”

“Pretend I’m a complete idiot.”

He smiles. “That I love you.” His smile falters at the strength of the feeling behind it.

She’s grinning that bright grin of hers now, the light he follows through the storm. “Oh, thank god,” she says. “I was going to feel really stupid.”

---

She lies next to him sleepily as the evening catches up to this perfect moment in time. Her skin is warm and her lips feel swollen and she could never get enough, ever, of being right here, lying against Connor, despite all the terribleness going on around them.

But she can feel the anxiety climb up her throat, slowly, slowly, looking for an advantage, even as his warm arms hold her tightly to him. Even as one hand slowly brushes her hair out of her face. Even as something she’d only dreamed of continues to happen, like she was allowed.

“Why don’t you get your sleep clothes on?” he says quietly to her, as if reading her thoughts. He begins to sit up, taking her with him, holding her against his shoulder. The anxiety spikes hard as the cool air in the bedroom reaches her skin. He presses his lips to her temple and her breathing stutters.

He’s too beautiful. To her. Specifically.

“What’s wrong?” he asks. His breath brushes her cheek.

“Nothing,” she says, and it is a half-truth. Nothing, objectively, was wrong in this moment. “I’m...I’ll go change.” She turns to him, leaning her forehead on his cheek a moment. “Will you...be here?”

“Where would I go?” he asks seriously.

“I don’t know,” she admits, and she gets up before he can press her further on thoughts that are spilled everywhere, dropped out of a picnic basket in her head.

You let the bad that you recall outweigh the good of a single moment.

Did he have any idea how true that was?

He nearly bled to death from multiple stab wounds and a couple gunshots, and he’s asking her if something’s wrong?

She won’t get used to someone giving a shit like that. She never could. And she’s not going to let go of the fact that he had been stabbed, that he was a complete idiot about finding danger, that he would throw himself in the fire for her, that this could all be taken away from her in an instant, just like--

Suddenly she’s breathing heavily in front of the sink in the adjacent bathroom, bracing her hands on the cool ceramic and trying not to cry again. Eventually she takes off her heavy jeans, her raglan shirt, and pulls on sleep shorts and a tank top, vision blurring. She wraps her hair up in an old t-shirt. Half ashamed, half out of her mind with worry about things that won’t happen tonight, she stumbles back into the bedroom.

He sees her face and he’s crossing the room to her in an instant.

“Listen,” she says, voice shaking. “You have to swear. You can’t throw your life away or do something that will hurt you because of me, I fucking mean that. I will break up with you over it,” she says, tasting the words break up like a sour dust. “I’m not kidding. I’m not more important than your life or your happiness or whatever.”

He cups her face for a moment, looking down into her eyes.

And then he wordlessly pulls her toward the bed by her waist, moving the sheets aside so that she can lie down. He pulls her down beside him, his back to the wall. Their noses nearly touch in closeness. His arm rests over her waist.

He’s silent for a long moment, but she can see in the way he shifts his eyes about that he’s thinking.

“I’m not going to let what happened yesterday happen again,” he says softly. “I...made a miscalculation.”

She pats his chest, still anxious but not so chokingly so. “That’s one way of putting it.”

His mouth flickers with uncertainty. She knows because she is very, very close to it now. “I’ve recalibrated since then.”

She laughs despite herself. “Wow. Hot. Is that what you call it?”

He settles on a smile finally. He pulls her closer. “I mean it. I refuse to put you through such fear again. I...underestimated...the value of my life in the equation of what we are.”

Of what we are.

She is filled with golden light.

“Yeah. You did.” She swallows the bubble that forms in her throat.

“But do you understand what you mean to me?” he asks, voice serious. “I don’t want to break up with you at all” -- a slight, teasing smile -- “but you need to avoid stomping right into a dangerous police situation on a whim, for example. For me, if no one else.”

He lays his chin on top of her head.

“Without you, I’m not sure I would like my new life so much,” he says.

Love is dumb as hell, Emma thinks. All it does is make me want to cry every five minutes.

“Okay,” she says instead of crying. “So is it a deal? We both try really hard to live so the other doesn’t wanna throw themselves off a cliff?”

She means it partly as a joke, but he doesn’t laugh -- and frankly, she’s not joking that much. He’s silent for a long moment before he speaks again.

“It was your voice that pushed me through it,” he says quietly. She can feel his voice through his chest, even if it is just from a complex vocoder box. “Because I did promise you to be safe. You, telling me not to give up…” He sighs, which she always finds charming because he doesn’t need to do it. It means he’s feeling something, deep down in his heart. “You’ve given me so much. How could I dare to let you down?”

She curls into him in the bed, laying her head next to where his heart would be, listening to all the mechanics within whir gently. He’s got it backwards. She doesn’t deserve him at all, but she’s weak in the face of him. Weak before his love, freely given. “You’ll be here?” she asks, voice finally breaking. Pride, finally setting her free. “In the morning?”

“Emma,” he whispers into her hair, pressing and concerned. “Where do you keep thinking I’m going to go?”

“Away.” A throttling moment of weakness.

“Seeing as I nearly got myself killed trying to prevent that outcome…” He presses his lips to the top of her head. “That would be very stupid.”

She laughs against his chest, which makes him laugh, and eventually she falls asleep like that, curled in against him, safe.

---

It is like breaking down the wall of programming all over again -- making real what he had known in his heart from the beginning.

Her pajama shorts are hiked up. His hand lays on her hip like it was molded to fit her bones. Her hand is on his chest, fingers spread, and her head is tucked into the space between his collarbone and his neck, breath slow against his skin in sleep.

His other arm snakes around her bare lower back, anchoring her against him. She twitches in her sleep and he pulls her tight until he feels her muscles uncoil.

“Shh,” he whispers into her hair, words quiet as breathing. “I’m here.”

She sighs so softly he feels his system reboot and reset in a single moment. His eyes burn as his thirium pump cauterizes over.

He feels completely unmade. But the leak in his heart silences for the first time since he can remember.

---

“Good morning, Emma.”

She leans her head up to see his bright smile, as genuine as she’d ever seen it. If he was a fae, she was goddamn doomed now (there were pretty explicit rules about not kissing them), and the worst part was that she was perfectly okay with that.

She mumbles something in return, rolling onto her back, pinning his arm under her for a moment. She rubs her face free of drool spots, blinking against the white light coming in through the icy window. Detroit is a veritable winter wonderland, now.

“Did you sleep alright?” he asks pleasantly, and she just nods, thinking of it. She’s no wordsmith on a good day, much less right when she wakes up. She tries not to blush as she sits up and he follows suit, snaking an arm around her middle like he can’t bear to be separated.

“Did you?” she asks.

He ‘hmm’s in the affirmative, placing his head on her shoulder.

“You’re very cute,” she says. “But I’m gross.”

“You are not ‘gross’. But I am not one-hundred percent convinced you are ready to be awake.” He presses his lips into her bare shoulder.

Warmth shoots through her whole body like a wave of adrenaline. “People are gonna talk if we don’t get out of bed today.”

He looks like he’s seriously weighing the variables for a few moments. She gently presses against his arm with her hands, smiling. As much as she wants to stay here, the thought of people wondering seriously gives her anxiety -- on top of the fact that she has a life to rearrange once again. “Don’t you got reports to do or something?”

“I suppose,” he mutters. She snorts out a laugh; he’s never sounded so annoyed by that fact.

He steps out of the room to prepare himself for work. After changing and brushing her teeth in the adjoining bathroom, she steps out of the room, half-expecting everyone to have noticed them both leaving the same place at some point. Connor waits for her by the door in his usual blazer and button-up.

But no one spots them. Step 1 complete.

“Things are quiet,” Connor comments, seemingly in agreement with her observations. “Everyone seems to be recovering.”

They move through the house together and then downstairs past a few faceless UN guards. But her attempts to keep things largely on the downlow are immediately dashed when she and Connor enter the kitchen, rather obviously laughing about a picture of Sumo that Connor had pulled up on his hand. His arm is around her shoulders for a ghost of a moment, relishing the closeness, clearly not caring if anyone saw.

And Markus, North and Simon are all present.

“Good morning!” Markus near booms, smiling his megawatt smile as he leans against the kitchen island.

“Sleep well?” Simon asks, smiling just as brightly -- and genuinely.

Emma’s heart flops low in her ribs with mortification.

Please don’t be weird, please don’t be weird, please don’t be weird.

“We were just leaving,” North says, cementing her as Emma’s favorite among the bunch, but even she is smiling. The android wifi chatter must be sizzling with gossip right now. She’s glaring at the very thought -- something she only realizes because Connor tightens his arm around her shoulder.

“Slept fine,” Emma says, many moments too late. “Thankyou.” It all pours out as one word.

“There’s some left over eggs and bacon on the stove and some coffee in the pot,” Markus says.

“It was for the officers,” Simon says in explanation. “They had to pull long shifts last night. Hank asked after you.” A meaningful eyebrow raise at Connor. “I told him you were in rest mode.”

Her face is burning.

“Enjoy,” Markus says, a little too sincerely.

Emma tries to offer up a smile as they all begin to file out, herded by North. She gives Emma a nod as she passes, though she doesn’t miss the meaningful look shot Connor’s way either.

It’s fine, it’s fine, it’s fine.

She piles a plate with food and sits at the kitchen island, trying not to think about how everyone else can flutter in and out but that she won’t be going anywhere else today.

Connor brings over two black coffees.

He sits right next to her. Their arms touch.

It is fine.

He observes her for a few moments as she begins to shovel down food -- a familiar tradition. She is more hungry than she expects. “May I ask a few perhaps stupid questions?”

“Please do,” she says around a mouthful of bacon. “I’m tired of embarrassing myself.”

“First...why are you embarrassed?” His voice is straightforward, but his forehead creases in thought. She can see his hands tighten around his mug. “I’ve noticed you’ve been slightly on edge since you’ve woken up and it got worse when we saw Markus and the others. Do you not want people to know about us?”

“What? No! It’s not that,” she says quickly, looking to him in concern. “I’m--”

She taps the plate a few times with her fork, sorting through the thoughts. “...I’m not...I haven’t…” She sighs, cursing her fucking brain. “I’m bad at letting people see the...inside me. You know. And you walking around, it feels like a part of my heart is suddenly right there where everyone can see it.”

God, talking about this...what would people think? Would they think she was a freak? Someone who was taking advantage of him?

Explaining this to her aunt and uncle was gonna be a...thing.

“I understand your metaphor,” he says. “You are much more fragile than me and...I have not enjoyed our separations for some time.” He tilts his head, watching her. “You fear the...vulnerability as well?”

She looks at her plate. “Something like that.” She pokes an egg around with the fork. “It’s inside business. You know? It hurts bad enough dealing with shit on your own. I don’t need everyone else to be looking...and judging…”

He lays a gentle hand on her wrist. “The thoughts of others have no impact on your value to me, and I know that it's the same for you, underneath all that frowning.” A smile.

His faith in her makes her insides itch. She can practically hear Ryker saying it. Stop being such a little burr. “You’re my Con,” she says quietly. He squeezes her wrist, thumb against the back of her hand. “What’s your other question?”

“Will this...” He gestures between them. “...relationship move at a proper speed for you?”

She squints at him, setting her fork down with a clank. “What does that mean?”

He purses his lips together a moment. “I have...seen enough ‘rom coms’ to know that often the next step in this sort of thing is something that I am not...equipped...for. I can’t even eat a proper meal with you, much less...”

His eyes dance askance in implication and her whole insides flip in place. She leans wholly against him, earlier discomfort forgotten. "I don't want that from you, darlin’. I mean. Not if you aren’t ready or interested in that. I just want..." Her eyes can't settle. "I just want to be with you. Whatever that means."

He looks at her...

“Call me that again,” he says.

She blinks, feeling her face flush. She hadn’t even thought! He struggled so much with Con...

“Darling?”

He sits there with a dumb smile on his face for a good five seconds, looking at the table.

Fuck. She was so doomed.

[10:32 a.m.] lil.lion.lady74: ryker im alive

[10:32 a.m.] lil.lion.lady74: im sorry. Really. I know...i’m like the worst friend of all time.

[10:32 a.m.] lil.lion.lady74: but everything is both awful and the best at the same time all at once and its crazy, life is crazy, what are emotions and also im dying.

[10:32 a.m.] lil.lion.lady74: im...a little confused actually!

[10:33 a.m.] lil.lion.lady74: i hope you’re okay. I hope everyone’s okay.

[10:33 a.m.] RYKER.WR600: Where are you? You don't exactly sound the most sane right now.

[10:34 a.m.] RYKER.WR600: Too late. I’m already calling a cab. Tell me or you’re paying.

[10:34 a.m.] lil.lion.lady74: Ryker!!!! The snow!? That wasn’t a request to come over!!

[10:36 a.m.] lil.lion.lady74: oh my god, frick you, i just got the taxi notification. Sending location

[10:36 a.m.] lil.lion.lady74: insane, blondie. Insane. Guess i better tell north

[10:37 a.m.] RYKER.WR600: Nice try. But you can’t stop me now.

Connor catches Hank out at the Chicken Feed. Even with the snow shining blinding white on the streets, the place is still open (having only re-opened to business recently) and Hank still makes the trek.

It is a charming bit of normalcy in a series of very un-normal days.

Hank waves to him as he steps out of the taxi.

“You’re not on duty today, I goddamn asked,” Hank says as he approaches. “And before you ask, no, there’s been no sign of him anywhere yet.”

“I am functional, Hank. I already checked the reports.” Connor smiles.

Hank just shakes his head. He does not say fucking androids but the thought seems implied nonetheless -- even if Connor catches the way relief eases some of the man’s wrinkles.

“No hospitals...nothing,” Hank says in disbelief. “I kind of hope we find him dead on the street.”

“It is deeply unlikely that we will be that lucky.” Connor looks at the small metal table. “Call it a hunch.”

Hank observes him over his hamburger.

“You ever think of quitting this gig, Con? Nice boy like you.”

Connor raises an eyebrow. “What would you do without me?”

“You have evolved into a bit of a snarky asshole, but I don’t think that’s entirely your fault.” A flicker of a smirk. “I mean...I dunno. I guess I’m still...” Hank looks down at his meal and sighs deeply. “I hated seeing you like that.”

Connor looks at the table. “Don’t worry. I’ve learned my lesson.”

Hank nods slowly, taking him in with a long, analyzing stare. “Your girl talking to you again yet?”

Connor narrows his eyes at the moniker. “We...yes…I suppose she is ‘my girl.’ Though I still don’t like that term.”

Hank puts his burger down. Connor watches realization dawn on Hank’s face. “Holy shit.”

Connor raises both eyebrows this time.

“Goddamnit,” Hank cusses, but he’s smiling. “You couldn’t have waited to get mortally wounded for another month? Now I owe Chris $20.”

Connor tilts his head. “...you what, Lieutenant?”

“We had a bet going--you know what, nevermind, you’re not gonna like it.”

“You told me to tell her the truth!”

“When do you ever actually listen to me?” Hank says. But he’s laughing. Connor realizes: He might even be proud.

---

Hank settles into his car with a huff before he turns fully to Connor in the passenger’s seat. Bald-faced concern flashed in the man’s eyes. “You’re really doing alright? Most officers I know need a couple days after nearly getting killed on the job.”

“What is it you once said? It is a process?”

“I mighta said that.”

“It is a process. And working is mine.”

Hank nods, looking at the road, starting up the car. “It’ll be nice to have you around the house for a few minutes, anyway. Sumo misses you like crazy.”

Connor stares out the windshield. That was Hank for ‘I also miss you, dumbass.’

They drive down the road in companionable silence.

“There is one detail I can’t shake,” Connor says.

“The picture.”

Of course Hank knows. “Yes. It was in a file that did not even match her name.”

“Yeah. That messed me up, too.”

“And the way he acted like...he knows her.”

“I read your report.” A pause. “Did you ask her about it?”

Connor looks down. “I don’t think she remembers what it is that he wants. I did not want to burden her with that.”

“I hate to say it,” Hank says, sighing, “but you might have to. Maybe her family. She’s got an aunt and uncle out here, doesn’t she?”

“She does. They have been purposefully kept out of the loop. For their sake...and for Emma’s.”

Hank looks at him. “I know, Con. But we’re kind of past the point of niceties, here.” A flicker of some strange amusement. “Knowing you, she’s kind of my girl now, too.”

---

Emma stares at her friend, rolling into the house in their wheelchair completely bundled up and shining with melting snow. A dark blue scarf conceals their pale hair and face so that only their light blue eyes peek out. Their hands are thickly gloved and multiple blankets are wrapped around their lap and remaining leg. She wants to be mad about it. North stands by, arms crossed, face stony.

“Hey,” Ryker says, muffled by the scarf, clearly shaking from the cold.

And then she remembers androids don’t feel the cold. And taxis were no longer allowed to casually move up and down this street, meaning they probably had to roll all the way down the street...

“Fuck you,” she says weakly before pulling them into a tight, tight hug. “You idiot. You hate the snow so much, I wouldn’t ask this of you.”

“You haven’t called in weeks. I know you weren’t really allowed to, but still.”

Emma pulls back. Ryker begins peeling off the many layers of scarf and it strikes her -- they look near tears. Perhaps from the windburn, but perhaps...

“You didn’t have to come out to the Speaker’s House.”

“Nope, I had to,” they say, seemingly trying to talk over the scary reminder that this is the house of the Speaker for the Androids. “You look exhausted,” they press instead. “What’s going on?”

“A lot, Blondie! And now you’re in the middle of it.” She sighs, absentmindedly rearranging the blankets on their lap. “Come on. Let’s get you a warm mug.”

North stands by, watching unreadably as Emma directs Ryker toward the kitchen. They wheel off with shaking fingers.

“Sorry,” Emma whispers. “I didn’t think they--”

“It’s fine,” North says, casting her gaze away. “Just don’t make a habit of it.” A pause. “Who are they?”

Emma looks after them into the kitchen. “Another stupid idiot that let me into their life,” she mutters.

And that’s how she ends up on a couch, hands wrapped around a hot cocoa mug as she gets completely owned by her best friend.

Ryker brings the cocoa mug up to their nose, inspecting it as if they wish they could take a sip of it. “So you finally admitted it,” they say, a weary sort of relief in their voice.

Emma squints. “Just say what you wanna say.”

Ryker makes a snorty-laugh sound. “Like I haven’t from the beginning!” They shake their head. “You’ve been dancing around him like an idiot for months. A well meaning idiot, but still.” Emma can’t help but smirk a little at this call-out, and Ryker continues unabashed. “You asked him to dinner, multiple times, and he said yes, multiple times. Even though he’s an android and can’t, you know, eat.And then you both show up at my house…” They pause for a moment, considering. “Don’t get me wrong, he was still very much the ex-hunter, current cop-slash-bodyguard of rumor. But sometimes, when he looked at you … I mean, even Chase could see it, and you know that he’s not necessarily the most observant.”

Emma sips her drink, looking away at this mention of Ryker’s roommate/another friend. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

Ryker leans forward. “I did. Multiple times.”

“Yeah.” Emma sets her mug down and stares out one of the beautiful windows of the Manfred Mansion. “Sounds about right.”

She watches the snow lightly fall from the trees in the garden and thinks about what it means to feel rooted somewhere. What it means to stay. What it means to belong.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Ryker asks, for maybe the fifth time.

She closes her eyes against the brightness of the light. “There’s just...there’s been a lot. All at once. These past weeks, I’ve felt so stupidly alone but...I’m just...awful at remembering how to not be that way.”

She looks to her friend, one of the few in her life, one of the few she could damn count on even though she probably didn’t deserve them, either. She barged into their life (like she did many of the androids in this city). She thought they’d been attacked and that she’d have to call the police on whoever tore their leg off but it was an older wound from a different time, even in March.

She offered to walk them home because she felt adrift and Ryker offered to help with a few jobs by providing company and minor support. And maybe they did it all out of fear at first, fear of this blustering human who stomped down streets in big boots. Maybe they didn’t understand at the time. But now…

They watch her intently, in that clear-eyed way only androids can, and she knows they can see parts of her that even she tries not to look at.

And that’s when it hits her: She’s not leaving Detroit anytime soon.

“You know I love you, right?” she asks, voice quiet. She has to be honest. There’s no more room for hiding things. “Even though I’m an idiot who never calls and who yells all the time...you know…”

They reach out and touch Emma’s hand. “Yeah, I do,” they say, voice even and measured. “And you know that I love you and that I would really prefer it if you kept me in the loop on what’s going on in your life. Beyond but also including world-ending events like your boyfriend almost dying. I want to help, Emma. But you have to talk to me. Or if not me, then someone, anyone. Stop trying to do it by yourself.”

Emma has to lean back a little bit, looking away.

“Okay, alright. Yeah. The universe is yelling at full force.”

“We met in the spring,” Ryker says, straightforward and true as the steel of a trowel. “You came to Detroit in the spring. You know, hope, rebirth, renewal, all that great stuff?” A slight smile, off center but honest. “It’s been yelling at you since the beginning.”

---

[9:36 p.m.] CONNOR.RK800.ANDERSON: Where are you?

[9:37 p.m.] lil.lion.lady74: I Have Run Away, Goodbye Fool

[9:37 p.m.] lil.lion.lady74: im in the library, get over here

In the next instant, she hears the door chime: Welcome, Connor Anderson.

It takes quite literally all of her willpower but she does not leave to greet him at the door. She stands up and brushes her old flannel down, but she has standards. She is gonna hold herself to them and not run to greet him like a puppy.

“Did you know,” she says, as soon as Connor enters the room, smiling with a tenderness that almost embarasses her, “that we are apparently the last people to know we’re a thing?”

“Apparently so” he says, brushing her hair away and placing his hands along her shoulders and neck as soon as he reaches her. His voice softens. “I’m glad to see you.”

“It was only one day.” But she grins, leaning lightly into one of his hands. “I spent most of mine getting my ass handed back to me by Ryker.”

He tilts his head, watching her face in that open way he did, though his chin twitches. “I went through something similar with Hank. Sumo says hello.”

He frowns ever so slightly. Unusual following comments regarding Sumo. She knocks her knuckles lightly against his chest. “You okay?”

His eyes dart away. He stands straight and crosses his arms in thought. They stand close enough that his forearms brush her middle.

“Do you aunt or uncle know much about your youth?” he asks, eyes shifting back to her face.

She blinks. “Nothing I don’t know, probably. We didn’t visit a whole bunch when I was young. Why?”

But she knows why. There’s only ever one thing on his mind these days.

She steps back to give him some space to work through whatever it is he needs to work through before he can really let go of this tonight.

“Abel had a picture of you,” he says before she can get back to the sofa. “As a young girl. No older than six, as if from an old file or passport. Very simple.”

She blanches. That old feeling. Like something’s catching up.

“You looked sad,” he says.

She turns back to look at him. His brow furrows in that old, concerned way.

“He...probably just had something from my foster care program,” she says in comfort. To him and herself. “You said he was really good at hacking, right?”

Connor looks at the floor.

“We haven’t really talked about what happened,” she says, fully turning toward him, watching him carefully. “Did you want to?”

He’s really struggling to work through this, she realizes. It’s taking him much longer than usual to form responses.

“He said...strange things.” He starts toward her at this, though his eyes don’t quite reach her face. “He acted like he knows everything about you. But he doesn’t.”

He reaches for her arms, laying his hands gently on her wrists.

“I know you,” he says.

She scans his expression -- the way his jaw tightens, even as his eyes turn soft and dark. She reaches a thumb up to touch the single line of wrinkles forming just above the bridge of his nose.

“Fuck that guy,” she says quietly. She presses and smooths the lines of tension away. “I’ve literally never seen him before in my life. Before now. He doesn’t know shit about me. You…” She pokes him on the nose. “...know more than you should.”

She smiles at him and finally tension begins to seep out of his body. He leans forward and kisses her forehead, then her nose, and then her mouth. He pulls her in by her hands, lacing his fingers through hers, stifling a growly sigh. Her whole body near spasms at his welcome warmth returning to her once again. But she pulls back with a laugh, not quite ready to shamelessly make out in Markus’ library, even if the idea doesn’t sound so bad...

“That is my job,” he says against her lips. He squeezes her fingers.

“And now you are off work.” Her voice is remarkably stable all things considered. “Grab a book or something. Let’s relax.”

“Actually…” He looks off as if remembering something. “Please sit, if you don’t mind. I’ll be right back.”

So she flops down on the sofa to wait a few moments before he returns bearing one of Hank’s old books. Ender’s Game.

“Oh, you read my mind,” she says, laughing a little, though she feels a strange pang of sadness. That they had the same idea is charming -- but that it likely spawned from his distress is not. She pats the sofa next to her.

He sits, but not without a light tug on her right arm. “Come closer,” he whispers.

She grins through the thrill that warps through her. He sits with his back on the far arm and pulls her in between his legs so her back is against his chest and his head can lay on her shoulder. His arms wrap around her middle.

“I like when you're close to me like this,” he says. “I feel...grounded.”

“Grounded,” she ponders, settling against him. He kisses her temple. “Yeah. Me, too.”

It’s wild to think that this is how her vagabond days end: sitting with a being who was barely a thought in someone’s head little over a year ago, reading a book that was older than them both combined, in a house that’s seen more change in its strange life than she could even imagine. But she starts to read, exactly like that, holding herself against him so he doesn’t feel like he’s flying off the face of the earth -- and so that she could remember what roots feel like after so many dry years.

They were nearing the final third when they last left off. A young boy, suffering in isolation, playing ruthless games set to test his mettle, called to push his friends and himself to their breaking points for what seems to be no reason. He wants nothing more than to break free and he decides he will sacrifice everything to make that happen. He aims his missile at the planet of his enemy, and he fires, hoping the people testing him will find him too crazy to continue.

But then, it turns out, the game is real -- and the young boy has done exactly what everyone wanted. Their enemy is dead. Destroyed in a single, fell swoop.

Connor tenses up around her when she finishes that chapter. “We have to finish it now,” he says.

He has to know…

And so they read, about freedom and what it means, in the house of the Speaker of the Androids. She doesn’t realize she’s whispering until her voice chokes up around the words said by Ender’s sister, the beloved Valentine, as they seek to leave Earth forever.

"Welcome to the human race. Nobody controls his own life, Ender. The best you can do is choose to fill the roles given you by good people -- by people who love you."

#dbh fic #detroit become human #dbh connor #connor rk800 #dbh connor x oc #dbh connor x reader #connor x reader #dbh #the silver lining still remains #emma ibori #long post #forreal

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