#and if i have to supervise i might as well save my nerves and do that shit myself

[pastempomat]

my laptop started being loud as fuck when i'm doing shit as tasking as watching youtube but also it was a used one from my father's work n i've had it since 2019 and graduated with it so it kinda has a right to be a little tired

[sirfrogsworth]

The Decision

Taking care of my dad has been challenging but probably the most rewarding thing I've ever done. In the past year I've had to push myself beyond my limits, beyond my illness, and do everything I could to make sure my dad was comfortable as his body slowly failed him.

I hadn't driven in over a decade, but he needed to get to dialysis so I took the entire driving test like a teenager in order to get my license again. I had to move out of my cozy basement command center and upstairs into the light. I hate the light. Much too bright. Since then we have been spending almost every second of every day together. This causes us to get on each others' nerves on occasion. But most of the time we are happy to have each others' company.

My job is mostly supervision and problem solving. I watch him to make sure he doesn't fall. But if he did fall, I needed a way to get him back up. So I found an electric chair lift. I just scoot his butt on and raise him back up. If he had a medical problem, I would figure out which doctor could help him. If his feet were cold, I would find battery-powered heated slippers to keep his toes toasty. Our house is filled with little solutions I found to make him as comfortable and safe as possible.

If he needs help with anything I am always right there to assist. It's usually little things, but for him, sometimes little things can be impossible things.

I was proud to do this and I believe it brought us closer than we have ever been.

Wednesday morning the surgery team came to visit my dad and look at his foot. They told me they cannot save the foot. My dad would need a below-the-knee amputation. This would require two months of grueling, painful rehab. Then another month or two for him to adjust to a prosthetic leg. Which he may not be able to tolerate with his balance issues.

Then the lung doctor came in. He said my dad's breathing could improve, but probably not to a comfortable degree. He explained with my dad's congestive heart failure getting worse, he is probably looking at another six months to a year of life, but only if everything with the amputation goes well.

I asked the lung doctor if this was all worth it. Four months of painful recovery from amputation just to live another two months? He said a reasonable person could decide it is worth it. That some people want to squeeze every second out of life. But another reasonable person might decide that quality of life is more important than length of life.

My dad has been unhappy with his health struggles for a while now. Dialysis is just awful. He sits in a chair for four hours, three times per week, and comes home absolutely wiped out. He sleeps for two to three hours and then feels miserable the rest of the night. Sometimes he will recover from the dialysis and then it is time to get more dialysis. Sundays were his only real day of rest because he had an extra day of recovery time.

He has breathing difficulties and they are getting worse. He can't take deep breaths so his lungs keep filling with CO2. The CO2 exacerbates his delirium and confusion. He has to wear an uncomfortable BiPAP breathing mask for hours to get rid of the CO2. Once the CO2 is blown off, he switches to high flow oxygen in his nose. The CO2 builds up again... back to the BiPAP. It has become a vicious cycle.

He is constantly trying to right his balance when he walks. He has arthritis pain that never stops. And because his circulation is so bad, his extremities are always either tingling or stinging him with neuropathy pain. Those heated slippers were his only refuge.

His depression is obvious. He curses at every little inconvenience. Every dropped pill due to his hands not working. Every time he bumps into the wall with his walker. Every time he fails to stand up, having to try multiple times. Everything frustrates him.

He hates being tethered to oxygen. He feels trapped in a 50 foot radius. He constantly wishes for nothing more than to go outside and take his riding mower for a spin.

I try to entertain him with new movies and TV shows, but he has trouble concentrating on new things. Sometimes he prefers just to watch his NCIS shows that he has seen many times. That way he won't get frustrated if he falls asleep and misses the ending.

And... he lost his wife.

He has had to exist without her for a year now and he sometimes forgets she is gone. He'll call out to her and she won't respond. He'll think she is still lying next to him in bed only to discover it is the pillow supporting his back. I think when she died a part of himself died as well. He lost a huge reason to keep fighting.

And since he has been back in the hospital, his delirium and confusion have returned. He is more lucid in the mornings after sleeping. But the exhaustion from not getting enough sleep, dialysis, his foot infection and pain, the drugs, the constant in-and-out of people checking on him... it's just too much. His brain cannot function without restful sleep. So he ends up hallucinating and losing the ability to communicate.

There just does not seem to be a path forward where he could have a comfortable quality of life.

In the height of his foot pain he has exclaimed many times "I WANT TO DIE." And while I know part of that was due to his misery and frustration and pain in that moment... I think that exclamation contained his unfiltered wishes.

He was lucid Wednesday morning and we had a good conversation. He did not want to endure months of recovery and rehab. He did not want the pain of losing a leg. He did not want to fight for every breath. He did not want to lose access to clear thoughts on a regular basis. And he did not want to continue on without the love of his life.

There is this selfish part of me that wanted to convince him to keep fighting. He is my best friend. He is the greatest father I could ask for. Taking care of him this past year has given me great purpose. It has been an honor to help take care of him--as he had done for me all of my life.

Lately, he has had trouble getting into bed and covering himself up. So I have been tucking him in every night just like he did for me when I was little. First I have to arrange his pillows just right. One between his legs and one for him to hug. I put on his toasty slippers to keep his feet warm. I pull the covers up, give him a hug, tell him I love him, and say goodnight. Then I ask his Alexa speaker to play Billy Joel for him to fall asleep to. And I love doing that for him. I feel happy that we got through another day.

Whenever I am alone in our house, I miss him. I have never been in an empty house. It just feels wrong. And I'm not sure I am ready to adjust to that reality.

I want to watch another season of Cardinal's baseball with him. He loves The Mandalorian so much and I want to watch the new episodes with him. I downloaded every John Wayne movie, and even though I don't always care for those films, I like seeing him smile as he watches The Duke get into trouble.

I don't want to lose both of my parents in the span of a year.

And, well, I also don't want to lose the house. I don't want to live on my own. I don't want to worry about not having enough money to live. These are just things I can't help worrying about. And I feel guilty for worrying about myself during this time.

I have all of these reasons to want him to continue on. And I bet if I asked him to keep trying, he would do that for me. He would continue suffering and struggling for me. Because there has never been a time in his life that he would not do *anything* for his sons.

That's just who he is.

But I know I have to filter those feelings and reasons out. I know I can't ask my father to endure any more pain and misery because I fear being alone. He has always done what is best for me, and now I need to return the favor.

He has lived a long life. He had a wife that he loved. He had two sons that he raised and instilled his values in. He has a beautiful legacy that will live on in us.

He has nothing left to accomplish in this world.

He told me he wanted an out but he didn't know how to go about it. But I did. And I had to fight the urge to keep it to myself. I did not want to tell my father how to end his life. And telling him almost felt like I was personally killing him.

Thursday morning his favorite doctor is going to come speak to us. She is his kidney doctor. She is going to explain the process of stopping dialysis. With palliative care, it can be a relatively painless exit. Over a few weeks his kidneys will fail to filter out toxins. They will build up in his system. And eventually he will fade to black.

My mother had a horrible, painful, lonely death. Her final words were over a telephone because of COVID restrictions. The last time I saw her was across the ICU through a glass window.

Thankfully, my dad will be able to go out on his own terms.

He will be comfortable and surrounded by loved ones.

[bobawitch]

His Favorite Case

(this is a fem reader x late season 5 reid)

warnings: this story does contain talk of murder, stalking, and overall some triggering topics, please read at your own risk.

A/N: i am more than willing to take requests for upcoming chapters but i will also write smaller fics on the side if anyone has specific requests! <3

Chapter one

You had never known an easy life. It seems fate just didn’t have that out for you. You were made to be in and out of therapy throughout childhood and the early stages of your adulthood. It was when you were around 6 years old that your parents were killed. The killer had locked you in your room and left you with a music box that played the swan lake. It wasn’t loud enough to block out the sounds of your parents but it was definitely calming. Police had arrived as fast as they could but they couldn’t save your mother. Your father was in critical care for a few years but eventually died which left you under the supervision of your aunt. She moved you to her townhouse in Russia where you grew up but once you were at 18 you found yourself wishing to come back to America and so you did. It had been easy since you had excelled as a ballerina and just about any dance studio was just about dying to get you. You finally found one you liked in Virginia, Quantico to be more exact. Your aunt made sure you were comfortable in your new apartment before she left you again. Now you were on your own, enjoying your own life. 

Now for Reid, there was a new case and Garcia was at the end of filling them in on it and Reid was extra interested. It was obvious that the unsub had a type and a very specific surrogate he was looking for but how long it would take before he was ready to confront that surrogate was too soon to speculate on. 

“He seems to like ballerinas, specifically ballerinas with h/c’s hair and e/c eyes.” Reid spoke and Morgan nodded, his brows still firm in thought. 

“It’s local so we should start by looking into how many ballerinas in the area have a history with a stalker.” Hotch looked at Garcia, making it clear she was to look at that immediately.

“Morgan and Rossi, you go to the first dump site, Reid and Prentiss start visiting ballet studios, see if we can find anyone that might know this guy.” Hotch finished his orders, standing as Garcia scrambled off to her computer room. 

It didn’t take long for Reid and Prentiss to get to the well known studio you worked at. The manager of the studio came and grabbed you to speak with the FBI and you hurriedly pulled on your hoodie over your leotard. You scurried to the man and woman, looking over the woman quickly before resting your eyes on Spencer. He gave you a half smile in his awkward manner.

“Uh hi, I’m Dr. Spencer Reid and this is Agent Emily Prentiss. We’re from the FBI.” Reid nodded and gave a hand for you to shake. You took it and gave a kind but firm shake, then doing the same to agent Prentiss.

“We’re sorry to bother you but we were hoping we could ask you some questions?” Prentiss had a kind and very understanding voice that soothed you and your nerves. 

“Yeah of course, here we can go sit.” You smiled at the two before leading them to the various seats in the audience.

“Thank you, we were wondering if you’ve been stalked before?”

You looked at Reid with a blank but anxious look, swallowing hard and nodding slightly.

“Nothing confirmed but I used to get these letters that never had a return address. They always asked how my life was, what I was doing.” You felt your voice shake as you spoke. You had of course brought this up in therapy but nothing was ever done about it, instead you just kept throwing them away and getting stronger security at each letter. You felt a bit safer but about 2 months ago you stopped receiving any letters. 

“How long have you been getting these letters?” Prentiss continued the questioning but you could feel Reid staring at you, a thoughtful expression upon his face. 

“Uh, ever since I moved here about 6 months ago..”

Prentiss and Reid exchanged looks.

“Thank you, uh, what’s your name?” Reid asked.

You gave him your name before you watched them leave, now more nervous than ever. Reid had given you his number so that you could get in touch easily if you got another letter. 

“Garcia I need you to run a background check on someone, her name is y/n l/n.” Reid spoke into the phone outside of your studio, Emily was now in the car, updating Hotch.

“Alright, give me just a moment… aaaaand done! Ok she seems like your average 25 year old, moved here 6 months ago, lives in a studio apartment outside of downtown. She was born in a small town in New York and.. Oh…. oh my god. Her parents were killed in her old house, she was the only survivor..” Garcia’s voice shook enough through the call that Reid frowned, still deep in thought.

“Ok, thanks Garcia.” The call ended and he climbed into the car, updating Prentiss and Hotch before heading back to the office. 

That night you found it hard to sleep, which wasn’t super uncommon but it still wasn’t comfortable for you. You blink at your ceiling before sighing and pushing yourself up and out of your bed, walking through the hall and grabbing a glass of water from the fridge. As you shut the fridge door you heard a hard thump which spiked your adrenaline. You reached for your phone, dialing Reid’s number and making your way to the front door of your apartment. It couldn’t have been later than maybe 11:30 so you were near confident that a neighbor would be awake enough to let you in. When you got to the front door you quickly unlocked all the pieces you had installed to ensure your safety then swung the door open. Reid picked up as you ran down the hall.

“Reid he’s here. He was in my apartment, I’m getting in the elevator now, please send help.” You were rushed in your words, cutting off his confused tone and the beginnings of “who is this?”

You could hear some scrambling in the background as the elevator doors closed before Reid spoke.

“Ok, I just told my team we’ll be there soon, where are you gonna go?”

“Uh, I didn’t think about that, maybe the lobby?”

“Ok, that’s smart, just go to the lobby and hide behind the front desk we’re on our way.”

Tears were flooding down your cheeks now and you could feel your breathing deep in your head.

“Ok.. will you stay on the phone with me please?” You felt your voice crack but your ears weren’t pierced with the noise as they usually would be.

“Of course, yes I’ll stay on the call until we get there.”

You mumbled a soft thank you before sitting behind the front desk, crouching with your knees hugged tight to your chest. You were shaking as you tried to calm your breathing so the man couldn’t hear you when he eventually got down to the lobby. You snapped out of your pure fear when you heard Reid’s voice again. 

“How long have you been a ballerina?”

You were a little stunned at his question because it really didn’t make sense in the situation.

“I uh- I’m sorry what?”

“Oh, sorry just trying to distract you, try and calm you down. This guy feeds on fear so if we can keep you as calm as possible it will make him more likely to just leave.”

You nodded although Reid really couldn’t see that.

“I’ve been doing ballet since I was 10. So 16 years.” You were still crying but your voice wasn’t as shaky.

“Good good, that’s super cool. I never understood dancing, it’s not like math so I’m a bit lost at it.”

You giggled at his words, still hearing dead silence in the lobby until you heard faint sirens. You perked up with a smile, wanting to look around the lobby but it was then you heard the elevator doors open and a heavy step walking around the lobby. 

“Alright y/n we are almost to your building, are you still safe?”

You would have whispered but the man was close enough that you couldn’t even try it. You shut your eyes tight and kept repeating that you were ok, hoping that maybe by some miracle that Reid would get your thoughts.

The line stayed quiet for a few more seconds as the sirens became blaring. You heard various hurried footsteps until the doors swung open and you heard deep voices yelling for the unsub to drop his weapon. Your eyes opened and you looked around until Spencer came into view, he kneeled by you and set his hand on your shoulder.

“Y/N! Are you ok?” He spoke in a worried tone as the other agents made the arrest.

You nodded and took his other hand that was telling you it was safe to stand but when you did you saw the man and he was not the man that killed your parents.

“Todd? What the fuck!” You spoke angrily, starting to walk towards him though Reid was holding you back very confused.

“Y/N who are these people? What do they mean murder?!” Todd spoke confused and also angry.

You turned to Hotch, bowing your head gently, “I’m so sorry sir, this is just Todd, my ex boyfriend.”

You heard a scoff from behind you and turned to look at Reid who looked a bit embarrassed at how unprofessional that was. Hotch sighed and nodded, “We’ll still need to take him in for questioning.”

“He also now has breaking and entering, even if it's not murder we can hold him.” Spencer chimed and you looked at him again, smiling. 

Reid took you back to your room as of Hotch’s orders, telling him to stay for the night. You were a bit embarrassed since your apartment wasn’t the most clean place on Earth but you let him in nonetheless.

[merv606]

Mob Princeling!Daniel idea from your AU! What about an ABO take? 

So Omega!Daniel is the youngest/maybe only child of once powerful, now fading mob Boss (Cuba? lol) He reminds his BossDad very much of his deceased wife in looks and temperament, so much so that BossDad has pampered and cuddled him rather than raise another Boss. Daniel has been spoiled sweet - he loves nice things and is sassy (occasionally bratty) - but he’s a total sweetheart, kind, affectionate, and ridiculously pretty (think NINY!Daniel or Teddy!Daniel). 

So pretty that he’s caught more than just the eye of AlphaBoss!Terry of a rival mob (Irish of course!). Terry, under the guise of making peace between the feuding factions, requests Daniel’s hand or he will annihilate them all (he’ll save Daniel for himself though). BossDad agrees for the sake of uniting their mafia to become even stronger, and actually have a new Boss in Terry, and breaks Daniel’s heart when he barters him off to Terry - a man, an Alpha, Daniel doesn’t even know, and has only met once (strictly supervised of course). Daniel had been shy and skittish on that occasion when he saw Terry looking at him so intensely, and couldn’t understand why the scent in the air changed around him.

Daniel is barely of age and very frightened, especially on his wedding day where he learns how powerful and deadly his now husband really is. Might go a dark route and have his wedding night be absolutely horrible and Terry uncaring as long as (Terry) has what he desires, even though Daniel is broken by what happens (Terry puts him back together, but Daniel is never the same) Or Terry can be a gentleman Alpha and not consummate the marriage until Daniel falls for him as well - which won’t take long because stubborn and clueless as Daniel is, they have certainly scentbonded and Terry knows it’s a true match with the little omega. 

Either way, Daniel makes the best of his situation and Terry falls even harder for him, and dislikes when the little omega is not nearby.  Also: Daniel can cook really well in this AU and he wins Terry’s cronies over by his amazing kitchen skills. He also cooks when flustered and annoyed - which is often, thanks to his new husband. Terry considers himself a very lucky Alpha. Lol.

Oh sweet little summer child …. There’s ALWAYS an ABO take 😈

I have sooooo many mafia AU ideas - seriously - it’s a problem 😂

I do so love the idea of Daniel being a bartering chip - a way to strengthen their family by uniting it with another powerful one OR Terry manipulating the scenario to get Daniel - perhaps obsessed with having him from the first time he laid eyes on him.

The wedding night - let’s meet in the middle.

I HC Terry as someone who, ego wise, would want their partner to desire them, so no matter who he beds, he always shows them a good time - I mean, there’s also his reputation as well.

NGL - I also love the trope of big scary person who everyone fears (character A) with the pure sunshine person (character B)- you know the one - character b is the only character A is soft with.

Besides, I like my Terry on the more manipulative side than physically or sexually cruel TBH.

He may make Danny do things (sometimes it’s things Danny only thinks he doesn’t want - those are just things he hasn’t convinced Danny of yet though) but he’s going to make damn well sure Danny likes it (or comes to anyway).

So Danny is frightened - for the both act itself and because of the rumors about his husband and his ruthlessness - thinking it will spill over into their marriage bed.

Terry will reassure him - but he will be consummating their marriage that night - Daniel’s nerves or not.

So Terry strategically keeps his smaller husband off balance and his head swimming and unable to process really - poor Daniel is caught up in whirlwind of Terry’s passion and couldn’t say no even if he wanted to, he’s so overwhelmed. The gentle kisses quickly turn heated, Terry’s hands on either side of Daniel’s face as the kisses deepen and turn more heated and desperate.

Love the idea of Daniel cooking when he’s pissed - seems like such a him thing to do. Food - breakfast for the kids, coffee for Amanda - seems to be one of his love languages.

[fulltimemoaner]

Zhongli is prosecuted for giving his Gnosis to the Tsaritsa, leaving him and Childe no choice than to flee to Snezhnaya.

Basically, some thieves cut Zhongli’s hair and Childe slaughters them because he really liked his hair.

Childe’s warm hand had felt comforting on his waist, even if he was hidden in a cloak under the warm sun of Liyue, being sneaked out of his homeland like the fugitive that he had become, like the land below him had forgotten the gentle rumbling of his energy and the security of his spears. He had fought back the urge to cry, thousands of years of protecting his safe harbour pointing their treacherous fingers at him. Yet, unlike Azhdaha, there was no bitterness, no disgust towards his beloved humans that had so willingly shunned him after news of his contract with the Tsaritsa had surfaced. In fact, the adoring citizens of Liyue had issued a warrant for him, for the Archon’s head that had wished to sign with the Fatui and sell out their safety.

Zhongli did not wish for the dominion of his beliefs, nor for acceptance, because mortal life was too brief and brittle to understand the gamble of him keeping his Gnosis when he could feel the claws of erosion leeching into his sanity. To their eyes, he had been their loving and protective God, who couldn’t be wrong, who would continue to reign for the millennia to come. The rusty floorboards had creaked underneath his feet, and he had caught the last traces of his homeland’s sun before he had been ushered to the basement of the ship for the first few hours, until they had been a safe distance from Liyue.

The adepti had weeped for this outcome, yet he had begged them not to rain down their vengeance on the mortals, to be gentle and understanding. He had entrusted them with the continuous protection of their harbour.

And the next air he breathed was that of Snezhnaya, the first light he saw was cold and fragile. He had emerged from his murky cabin in the early morning and had approached the railing that separated them from the freezing ocean. The rippling wind whipped back the hood of the heavy coat Ajax had provided him with, and now his hair waved in the wind, his eyes staring emptily into the distance as his skin itched from the cold. The Tsaritsa had accepted him as a fugitive asking for protection, and now, as his hands gripped the railing, he realised he hadn’t been that far away from home since the Archon War.

He looked up, feeling the soft tears that clung to his eyelashes freezing over, the sun obscured by a thick layer of clouds. How he missed the gentle breeze already.

The same went for Snezhnaya itself, it was cold enough to make his breath catch in his throat and his lungs ache. Ajax had taken his scarf off and wrapped it around his neck at the sound of his laboured breathing, then adjusted it to make sure it was covering his mouth and nose. Zhongli’s eyes had been curious as to why the ginger had been so gentle the past couple days, even the snark and edge having left his voice. Perhaps he felt for him. At least the gaze of the locals was gentle and welcoming, for the most part, offering him local delicacies and flowers before he and Childe could even reach his home. The Harbinger had been welcomed back like a hero, with huge bouquets and a massive meal prepared by his family.

Zhongli had been catatonic, at best, but at least, he had found some comfort in talking to the children, who were, as always, excited and easily impressed by his stories of dragons and extinct creatures.

He had stayed indoors for the first couple of days, too reluctant to go exploring on these foreign lands, but eventually, his confidence started building up again, so he picked up the small bag of money that Childe left for him every morning. -Zhongli had given his allowance of the two previous days to the little kids, since he hadn’t gone outside and concepts such as saving were nonexistent in his brain-

The attire, that he was getting used to. He wasn’t a huge fan of wearing boots, but he could say their smooth leather sealed him from the snow pretty well, and that the heavy coat felt strangely comforting around his shoulders. More than once, he had overheard people calling him the golden devil, which he considered to be quite endearing in its own, clueless way.

He stepped by a merchant’s booth with imported stones, including what they described as Liyuen Cor Lapis and Noctilucous Jades. He leaned in a bit closer for observation, and the merchant seemed to shift uncomfortably, which pretty much told Zhongli that these were, in fact, fake. He straightened up again, unable to resist teasing the merchant. “Are these imported straight from the chasm?”

The shopkeeper’s eyes seemed to go wide, and he quickly tried to dodge the question. Thankfully, for him, a whistle tore through their ears and made the young foreigner turn, his eyes narrowed.

“Lovely accessory you have there, good sir.” A young man smiled, accompanied by three others. “Looks like the real thing too.” The Snezhnayan man caressed the piece of jewellery that held Zhongli’s hair into a neat ponytail in a leery way. The ex archon didn’t move, only observed with caution, his piercing gaze saying more than words ever could. “Say, you aren’t, by any chance, the Tsaritsa’s guest from Liyue harbour?”

The other men chuckled and Zhongli glanced at the merchant, who started packing up his items hurriedly, seemingly intimidated by the gang. “Why, yes, I am.” He said neutrally, his voice a notch lower than friendly.

“Huh, you have nerve, saying that so openly.” The Snezhnayan’s fist twisted around the half-golden ponytail and pulled Zhongli’s head back. “You owe us, since we so willingly welcomed you here.” The stranger smirked, reaching behind his back for a folded knife. “I’m sure we could sell Morax’s hair for quite a fortune.” Another yank to the head and Zhongli blinked apathetically. “Aren’t you fighting back?”

“I have no interest in fighting mortals.” Zhongli shrugged. “My hair is my hair. Three years to grow them back is like the blink of an eye to me.”

The man’s eyes flickered with fury at the stranger, and he brought that dagger into his coal hair, severing the strands roughly. Zhongli’s eyes stayed unmoving, hostile, hateful, in a way. The lump of hair fell into the snow unceremoniously, and one of the others scurried to grab it.

“Yo,”

Zhongli’s eyes flickered from the thief to the source of the familiar voice. Relief washed over him at the sight of ginger hair and ocean blue eyes, that slender figure hugged in his winter attire that Zhongli rarely saw him in. A primal sense of grounding gripped him, almost like the essence of his home, which he had eternally bound to Childe’s smiling face. Unorthodox, he knew, but he was like an oasis of familiarity that the weather hadn’t manage to freeze over yet.

“Where is your Snezhnayan upbringing, picking on the Tsaritsa’s guests?” Ajax sighed, walking leisurely towards Zhongli. “I have eyes and ears where my hands can’t reach, and right now, mr. Zhongli is under my supervision.” His hand found its familiar spot on the God’s waist, his eyes scanning for any traces of harm’s way on him. His hand reached the back of his head before his eyes did, and they narrowed dangerously. “Ah, is that what you were going for? It’s a shame.” Zhongli felt uncertainty creep up his spine at the shift in the Harbinger’s tone, still wishing for no harm towards the mortals.

“Ajax,”

“It’s a shame,” Childe continued, cracking his neck to the left, then to the right with a relieved smile. “Because I happened to love his hair, and I don’t take kindly to things being taken away from me.”

“Ajax, let’s go home.” Zhongli grabbed his wrist, the whole group of thieves frozen in fear at the sight of the Fatui.

“No, no. We can’t do that. When someone kisses you, they expect a kiss back, no?” Ajax stepped forward and stretched his arm out, his hydro dagger appearing into his hand. “You might not want to shift the tides here, mr. Zhongli, but these rascals are my own.”

“Run!” The leader of the thieves screamed, but they didn’t stand a chance. Childe threw the dagger first, hitting the middle one between his shoulder blades. Blood gushed out in waves and Ajax laughed joyfully, running to the gurgling body to pull his weapon out, then join it into a larger pole-arm. A jump and a couple of spins and heads went flying, legs were severed, and the snow was painted an abysmal red. Childe leaned his head back, feeling the wind swipe his hair back and freeze his smile in place. The weapons vaporised in his hands, and he slowly lowered his gaze to Zhongli, stood meekly by the scene of the slaughter. Childe wrestled the hair out of the dead man’s grip, for the sake of retreating the luxurious clip that his lover favoured since he first met him. “Measly thieves. Someone has to be the sacrificial lamb, the subject to teach the others a lesson,”

Zhongli’s eyes eased shut when Ajax closed in on his space, leaning close to his face and pushing the small accessory into his gloved hand. “I love you.” Ajax whispered, pressing a gentle kiss into the corner of Zhongli’s brow. “And I intend to keep you safe here.”

“They wouldn’t kill me, Ajax.” Zhongli sighed deeply, leaning into Childe’s neck. “They wouldn’t be able to.”

“No one will dare to try anymore.” The Harbinger’s hand nestled to the small of the ex archon’s back, pulling him close to his body. He started to caress the back of his head with his free hand, trying to feel the roughly cut strands through the fabric of his gloves. “I’m sorry they touched you.”

“You’re more sad about that than I am.” Zhongli smiled gently and pulled the Harbinger’s head down to press their foreheads together. “It will grow back in no time.”

“I’m a mortal like they are.” Ajax whispered sadly, his eyes easing shut. Zhongli pressed a fleeting kiss to his lips in response, trying to ease the pain in his lover’s voice.

“And I’m eroding, so let’s try to outlive each other.” Zhongli chuckled, making Childe squeeze him close, a neediness evident in his touch. “I want to live like mortals do, with you, Ajax. That’s why I’m here.”

“Please, don’t say such things to me.” The Harbinger breathed deeply, trying to choke down a few stray tears. “I promise I will make your stay worthwhile.”

“I know.” Zhongli kissed his jaw quickly. “You can start by taking me somewhere, I’m freezing.”

“Right.” Childe laughed, reaching out to grasp the ex archon’s hand and pull him away from the bloodied grounds. “I’m taking you for lunch. I will tell some underlings to clean up the mess.”

“You could had been more clean about it.”

[hopeaterart]

RWBY HPTR AU: Jaune and Ozpin talk about his admission into Beacon

Context for the AU: It’s embarrassingly self-indulgent, hence why it’s named after me. If you want anymore info on it, you can ask me. Context for the scene: feeling humiliated about being saved by the guy he’s been bullying, Cardin told a teacher about Jaune’s falsified papers. The teacher then told Ozpin because, at the end of the day, Beacon is Ozpin’s school, and he gets the final word.

-click- Jaune Arc is requested at professor Ozpin’s office. -click-

All sounds stopped in the study hall, before heads turned toward the boy. He squeaked, sinking into his seat as Pyrrha looked at him, concerned. “Jaune?” She asked. “Do you know what’s going on?”

“... I think Ozpin found out...” He squeaked out, his breath coming up shorter and shorter. Pyrrha frowned, putting a hand on his shoulder and rubbing it. 

Nora and Ren exchanged a look, concerned. “Found out about... what?” The girl asked as her friend looked around the room.

“I did- I did something bad.” Jaune admitted. “And Ozpin probably found out, and now I’m gonna get thrown out-”

“Hey, calm down!” Nora said, slapping Jaune on his other shoulder. “I’m sure Ozpin could have a ton of other reasons as to why he’d want to see you. Like, maybe something bad happened to your family?” Jaune reacted by turning toward her with an horrified look. “... bad example- look, you’re our team leader! You defeated an Ursa by yourself two days ago!” Nora noted. “Whatever it is-”

“Whatever it is, Cardin and his lackeys are laughing about it.” Ren interrupted, his eyes away from the rest of the team as he glared across the room. Jaune whimpered at that as both girls joined Ren in glaring.

He sighed in resignation. “Okay... might as well just get it over with...” He got up from his seat, walking to the teacher’s desk to wake her up. Professor Lycoris was supposed to supervise study hall and help students in need, but she actually spent most of the time napping on her desk and letting the students to whatever. He gently tapped her on top of her head. “Professor Lycoris?”

The woman startled awake, all four pair of eyes blinking before focusing on him. “Uh... Jaune Arc, right?” He nodded. “What do you need help with?”

“I was called to the principal’s office, but I don’t know how to get there, or where it is.” He explained. She blinked slowly at him, before sighing.

“This is about your entrance papers, isn’t it?” She muttered under her breath as she fluffed up her pillow so only Jaune could hear her. “We had a meeting about it yesterday. He told us he’d handle this.” She explained, putting her pillow back on the desk as he nodded weakly. “Top of Beacon tower, just take the elevator, and remember to breath, okay?” She added softly. “Ozpin is much softer than he’d like people to believe. You’re not nearly in as much trouble as you believe you are.”

Her head then fell on the desk, the pillow muffling what would’ve been a resounding bang. Jaune stared at her, bewildered, before sighing half-in relief half-resigned as soft snoring reached his ears. He then left the classroom, heading for the elevator at the center of the building as he tried to keep himself calm.

The ride in the elevator was long and nerve-wrecking, but thankfully uninterrupted. The door opened to an office with a green marble floor and window walls, with a desk at the other end of the room. Principal Ozpin sat at it, a steaming mug of what Jaune assumed to be coffee in hand. “Ah, mister Arc.” The older man gestured for him to come sit. “Please, do sit. I do believe we need to talk about your admission into my school.”

Jaune gulped, coming to sit down in front of the principal. He said nothing as the older man opened one of the drawers of his desk, ruffling amongst papers as he sipped on his coffee. “Am I getting expelled?” The boy asked.

Ozpin turned toward him, a strange spark in his eyes. “That depends on what goes down in my office today... starting with this question: do you want to leave Beacon?”

Jaune blinked in surprise. “What?”

“Do you want to stop attending Beacon?” Ozpin reiterated. “If you do, I suggest you try to at least finish your first semester in order to see if that’s what you really want to do. If it is, then the paperwork will also be easier on my staff. It’ll be easier to reimburse your family on the 8000 something lien for the semesters you won’t be attending since they paid for the full education in advance-”

“8250 lien.”

“... pardon?”

“In all, attendance to Beacon for a full four years costs 9000 lien, right?” Jaune asked, Ozpin nodding slowly. “And each year is separated in three semesters for winter, spring and summer, with fall being the vacation season in Vale, so to speak. 9000 divided by 4 is 2250, and that divided by 3 is 750. Ad 9000 minus 750 equals... to... 8250...” he trailed off, embarrassed as Ozpin stared at him.

The older man’s eyes crinkled. “You did all the math in your head before I even finished my sentence.” He noted to himself, before finally getting a stack of papers out. Jaune’s admission papers. The boy gulped. “I’m going to ask you questions about what you wrote in your admission papers. Depending on what’s left in it, and what I’ve seen you’re able to do from the time you’ve spent in my school, I’ll decide whether or not you’ll be staying or going back home. All I ask of you is that you be honest with me. Can you do that?” Jaune took a deep breath, and nodded. “Alright, let’s begin, then.”

-

“... alright, so we’re finished here.” Ozpin nodded as he overlooked the documents. “So, you didn’t lie about your name, birth date, and proof of your citizenship in the kingdom of Vale. For your past formation, you lied about the extent of your combat education- which, before Beacon, is whatever you taught yourself in your backyard by swinging around a wooden training sword and shield, whatever bits of self-defense was taught in the school you attended, and a yellow belt you earned when you were eight years old- but were truthful about attending a notoriously difficult high school, with above-average scores in most subjects.”

Jaune fidgeted nervously in his seat. “So... am I getting-”

“I’m not finished. You decided to fake your transcripts by sneaking into your parent’s room and looking at your father’s from when he attended, copying down what you saw while being careful to put in enough differences to not be obvious. As for your essay, you took one look at one of the numerous hypothetical situations we offer on our official site, and offered three different strategies with an in-depth explanation of the pros and cons for each of them. And of course, while I am tolerant of my students having a criminal record up to a certain degree, yours is completely clean.” Ozpin finished. “If you ask me, whatever reasons I would have for expelling you went away the moment you passed the Initiation.”

Jaune’s head snapped up. “What!?”

“Unless you want to leave my school, you’re staying here.” Ozpin explained. “Do you want to leave Beacon, mister Arc?”

“N-no but- why are you letting me stay?” Jaune asked. “I’m so bad at it- I keep getting my ass kicked, I’m barely able to follow with in classes- I don’t belong here!”

Ozpin blinked blankly. “I have about five reasons: the first one is that, unfortunately for you, I’ve always known your papers were fake.”

“What!?”

“I’ve worked for Beacon for 20 years, mister Arc, with half of that time as it's headmaster. It's actually going to be my eleventh year this year.” Ozpin started “Your father was an upperclassman of mine, and I tend to check past student's files, especially when a family member is joining. Both your father and grandfather attended. The moment I’ve read your application, I knew something was going on. But the matter is that I’m not the one who first screens the applications to Beacon: Glynda is. I trust her judgement immensely. And your faked transcripts got past her.” The corners of his mouth quirked up. “Too many of my students think in black-and-white, or think being a Huntsman is all about brawns. So you’ll understand that I appreciate the ones who both use their brains and can see in shades of grey.”

Jaune nodded numbly. “... Okay. What are the other four reasons?”

“The second is that I can see your heart is in the right place. Don’t get me wrong, I know you probably faked your transcripts for selfish reasons.” The principal noted, the blonde boy looking away ashamed. “But you fell guilt about it, and strive to be your best self. Which brings me to reason number three: your learning curve is very impressive. You’re willing to improve, and it shows. Any improvement you’d like to tell me about?”

Jaune thought for a moment. “I started taking fighting lessons from Pyrrha, and Cardin has been blackmailing me to do his homework, so I’ve been studying a lot and it’s kind of sticking.” He admitted, Ozpin nodding. “I also know what Aura is, now. That’s important.”

Ozpin’s eyes widened in worry for a fraction of second. “Yes, it is. For someone who started from mostly nothing, I can assure you you’re progressing very fast. I’ve also made you your team’s leader for a reason. My fourth for keeping you, in fact. Beside your strategic mind and it being very awkward for me if I expelled you, miss Nikos needs a friend who’s able to look past her fame. You are that friend.”

Jaune nodded, feeling his inner doubt evaporating a bit. “Yeah, I... I guess that makes sense. If it’s alright with you, I’d like to continue my education here, sir.”

Ozpin smiled. “And I’d be glad to have you. Simply continue working as best as you can, work to improve yourself, and don’t hesitate to ask for help, alright?” Jaune nodded with a smile, before something occurred to him.

“Wait... How can expelling me for faking my transcripts be awkward for you?”

“Oh, that? It ties into my fifth reason.” Jaune frowned at that.

“Would you get in trouble with Vale’s council?”

“What- no, nothing like that. I’m going to let you in on a little secret here, mister Arc: The councils has no actual say over who the school’s principals are. It’s simply that my friends are a bunch of fuckheads who would never let me live it down.” Ozpin explained, Jaune blinking in confusion at the sudden swearing before snorting. “Now, do go back to class. I believe your study hall is finishing up soon. Oh, and mister Arc? I do suggest telling your team. Honesty is a great quality for a leader to have.”

Jaune nodded, getting up from his seat. “Right. Thank you, sir.”

“You’re welcome.” Jaune left at that, getting in the elevator and going back to the floor he came from...

... only to be caught off-guard as he reached it, seeing Ruby and another student in his class waiting for him. “Jaune!” Ruby exclaimed, hugging him as he got out of the elevator. “Is everything okay?”

“Y- yeah, everything’s fine.” Jaune reassured her. “There were just some issues with my papers that professor Ozpin just caught now, and he wanted me there while he fixes things so he doesn’t miss anything.”

Ruby sighed in relief “Thank the gods! Pyrrha asked me to come here because she had some... stuff... to do.”

“Her and the rest of your team are beating up Winchester and his goons.” The other student, a scorpion faunus, supplied, punctuating his sentence with a giggle.

“No, they’re sparing, and professor Lycoris is making sure it doesn’t go too far-”

“They’re going to town on Team Curdle, half of the class is egging them on, the other half is ignoring it, Arthie is taking a video for me, and if our dear professor Lycoris woke up while we were gone, it’s to plug up her ears to not have to deal with all the screaming.” The other student corrected as Ruby sighed in defeat.

Jaune laughed nervously. “Okay... thanks for filling me in! Uh...”

“Tyrian.” The scorpion faunus offered as he extended a hand, a sharp smile on his face. “Tyrian Callows, team WTCH. I’m from the deserts of Anima.”

Jaune shook Tyrian’s hand, awkwardly trying to avert his eyes from Tyrian’s own. It felt like his soul was being stared right through. “It’s nice to meet you, Tyrian. Jaune Arc, team JNPR. From plain ol’ Vale.”

Tyrian hummed, letting go of Jaune’s hand. “That’s good to know.” The trio started walking back toward their class.

“... So.” Ruby started, trying to fill in the silence. “How do you like Beacon, Tyrian?”

“Oh, I find it’s very nice, little Rose~” Tyrian supplied. “Roof over your head, food that’s edible, the adults here actually care about you, and full of colorful, interesting people to meet!” He exclaimed. “I am having a blast here! Only thing I really have to complain about are my teammates...”

“Wh- what’s wrong with your team?” Jaune asked, tilting his head in a concerned manner. Tyrian giggled.

“Nothing you have to worry your pretty little head about, Spark.” The scorpion faunus unhelpfully supplied as they entered the classroom again. Lycoris was still sleeping, Cardin and his team were currently laid out on the floor unconscious, and the rest of team JNPR seemed remarkably more relaxed than earlier. Tyrian waved at them as he went back to where he was sitting at the back of the class, next to a tall boy with darker skin and green eyes. “See you two around~”

Jaune whistled under his breath. Ruby nodded in agreement. “He’s certainly a... character.” She admitted. “From what little I got out of him though, he seems nice. He’s just... really weird. And good at reading people. I think he was concerned about you?”

“Either way, if that’s how he is when he’s being pleasant, I don’t want to find out how he is when he’s mad.” Jaune sighed, before the two bumped fists and went back to their seats.

“Jaune!” Pyrrha exclaimed. “Is everything alright? You’re staying at Beacon, right?”

He turned toward her, smiling. “Yeah, don’t worry Pyrrha. Everything’s fine.”

[sirowsky]

The Flowers Always Know

Description: When a mad scientist uses you as an experiment while you’re on holiday, the Heroics only just manage to save you. And in your recovery you become very close to the leader of the group. (Slow burn)

Warnings: Language, little angst.

Link to Masterlist

Comment: A lot happens in this chapter, and we finally get some real sparks going. Also, Máma Moreno starts butting in.

Chapter 5

  Three months later, you were not only back on your feet, but running. You’d never really been a runner before, but now it seemed like such a freedom, you could barely get enough of it. You’d lost a lot of weight during your coma, and you were scrawny to begin with, so the nutritionist had not been happy when you’d started requesting more physical activity. But after making a solemn vow to eat as much as he asked, he’d finally agreed. And you had both been surprised to discover that you had gained weight even quicker as your body converted the fuel into muscles.   You were actually heavier now than you ever had been, and you were genuinely proud of that, because you knew it meant that you were not only strong again, but stronger than before. It felt like a visible testament to your victory over evil. Plus – you looked good. You’d even gotten the colour and natural volume back in your hair.

  You were still living at the Heroics HQ medical facility, and you were still being tested to the nines every single day, but you didn’t mind. Everyone here were nice to you, and it wasn’t like you were in a cage, you went outside every day. They just didn’t like you to wander off too far, since you hadn’t been discharged yet, which meant you were still their responsibility.   You’d been pleasantly surprised to find out that they had taken care of all your bills and payments while you were in a coma and the subsequent rehabilitation, so your house was still very much in order for whenever you’d be heading back there.

  Marcus had been instrumental in your recovery. As soon as they discovered that his electromagnetic currents helped you, the science-department had temporarily melded with the medical department to figure out why that was, and what was the optimal way of utilising this fortuitus abnormality.   Luckily for you, that had meant many long hours spent with Marcus by your side as he carefully experimented with stimulating your muscles into cooperating with you. It hadn’t been nearly as sexy as it sounded, but it did offer you plenty of time to talk to each other, and you knew a lot more about him now. Or, at least a lot more about Missy. The proud dad had quickly emerged once he got more comfortable with you.   Curiously, though, no one had been able to work out just how his current had such a positive influence on your body. They thought that it might have to do with some sort of harmonisation between the tiny electrical impulses in your nerves and the frequency of his current, but they couldn’t say for sure, because so far, all of their tests had been inconclusive.

  Today was going to be a special day for you, in terms of the testing, because they wanted to do a full-scale physical exam, complete with endurance- and strength-tests, something you’d actually been looking forward to. You were excited to find out if you were getting close to getting that clean-bill-of-health stamp any time soon.   The tests themselves were gruelling. They involved running pretty much as fast as you could, in short intervals, but in the break between each interval you had to do a strength exercise. Weight-lifting, or working with kettle-bells, or just regular push-ups, there were lots of different ones.   After that, you were given an hour to rest, before you were going to be put through an obstacle course to check your agility and reflexes, and it was at this point that Marcus joined the small crowd of maybe thirty people, that had gathered to find out how you’d do.   And you were slightly concerned to see him exchange a look with his mother, the almighty Anita Moreno, at the back of that crowd. What could she possibly want to see this for?   He was in his uniform again, and looked winded, as though he’d hurried to get there in time to see this. He met your eyes and gave you an encouraging nod.   You’d been told that this course was one that the Heroics regularly used for training, and that they’d scaled it down a bit for you, but that the aim was still to test your physique quite rigorously, so it wouldn’t be easy.   You took your place on the start-line, and waited for the whistle.   It really was a tough course. You had to use your whole body to get past practically every single obstacle, and by the end, you were so tired that you collapsed the moment you crossed the finish-line, to the enthusiastic applause of the little crowd.   The twins were by your side immediately, taking your vitals to make sure that you were only normally tired, not dangerous-tired. They’d been with you the whole day, and this was the final hurdle before you’d all get to rest. They’d both been sweating almost as much as you, just from worrying about you.

  “All good. She’s okay.”

  Amaire declared to the supervising physician. He, in turn, looked at his digital pad and tapped a few times, then a smile crept into his features.

  “Well, it’s not a course-record, but considering the fact that most humans don’t even finish this course on their first try, I think we can give you your stamp now.”

  You sat up and stared wide-eyed at him, while Amaire shoved a water-bottle into your hand and all but pushed it into your mouth.

  “I’m officially declaring you completely recovered, and no longer in need of our medical assistance. Congratulations, miss. You really are a miracle.”

  Joy bubbled up inside you as you took in his words. You’d made it. You’d actually made it. There was a light-hearted laughter in your throat as you worked on getting your pulse under control.

  “Don’t let Miracle Guy hear you say that, Doc, whatever you do.”

  “Hah, I’ll keep that in mind.”

  Then Marcus was suddenly right in front of you, pulling you to your feet and into a tight hug in one fluid movement. He’d never hugged you before, and you wished that he hadn’t done it now when you were soaking his uniform in your sweat. But, holy crap, his arms felt good around you.

  “Felicidades, preciosa! I knew you’d be ready. How do you feel?”

  “Thank you, Marcus, I feel amazing. Like I wanna sleep for a week, but still amazing.”

  Reluctantly, you pulled back to look at him. As wonderful as it was to be encircled by those arms, you wanted him to see your eyes when you spoke again.

  “Really, thank you. I don’t know if I could have recovered this well without you, or if I would’ve even been able to wake my body up, ever again. I was trapped in the most impossible position imaginable, and you set me free. I’ve never thanked you for that. I don’t know how I could ever thank you enough.”

  He seemed slightly embarrassed by your gratitude, and his eyes seemed a bit glossier as he pulled you back into his arms and held you even tighter.

  “You have no idea what it means to me to see you like this. Strong and healthy and happy. I’ll never forget those eyes that stared up at me that day in the hospital, and I spent every day after that feeling helpless and useless every time I walked into your med-chamber. You don’t owe me a damned thing, hermosa. The fact that I get to see those eyes smile again, is more than I could ever ask for.”

  Someone clearing their throat very loudly and deliberately, made you automatically pull away from one another. And then you nearly choked on your own saliva when you realised that it was his mother.

  “Hey, mom. I was wondering what brought you here today.”

  “Aren’t you gonna introduce me, hijo? Didn’t I raise you to be polite?”

  “It’s polite not to sneak up on people, deliberately trying to make them uncomfortable, máma. She doesn’t need your dramatics today.”

  You couldn’t help but smile at the two of them. You were never close with your own family, so it always warmed your heart to see people who were. And he’d spoken about his mother during your long conversations in the med-chamber, so you knew that they were extremely close, which was why they could argue quite heatedly without ever getting truly angry with one another.

  “That’s okay. A little drama can be very entertaining.”

  You looked from Marcus to his mother, and then introduced yourself, with a respectful nod, rather than offering your still sweat-soaked hand. She gave her son a sideways glance.

  “Don’t you have some work to attend to, boy?”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Do I look like I’m joking?”

  “Do I look like I’m about to leave you alone with a woman that has no idea just how horrid you can be?”

  “When have I ever been horrid?!”

  “Oh, would you like me the count it out for you? Or would the word ‘ambassador’ suffice?”

  “That was just a misunderstanding, and that boy was beyond over-sensitive.”

  “He was a war-veteran and you deliberately pushed all of those buttons, until he crashed, just to make a fucking point.”

  “Hey, mind your language.”

  “Not even a little bit. Now, whatever you want with my friend, you can either start talking, or you can go away.”

  You didn’t miss the slightly possessive edge to the way he said ‘my friend’, and you were a tad concerned at just how much you liked it. His mother scoffed and then turned on her heels and walked away.

  “Sorry about that. She’s… tricky.”

  “I wouldn’t have minded speaking with her, you know.”

  “I’m sure you wouldn’t, but you don’t know her. She’s never once asked about you, even with all the time I’ve spent in the med-section. Never wanted to know how you were doing or even anything about you. So, the fact that she’s approaching you now, when you’ve just been cleared, means she’s up to something.”

  “Well, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t touched by your willingness to protect me from monster Máma.”

  He got a sheepish expression on his face and bowed his head to look at his own shoes.

  “I’d happily protect you from anyone.”

  “Thank you. I’ll remember that if I’m ever in trouble again.”

  He looked up at you, and for a moment his face was pained, before he quickly tried to adapt a more neutral expression. It didn’t quite work.

  “So… you’re leaving then?”

  “Well… I doubt they’ll just let me stay, rent free. Not to mention take up a med-chamber that someone else will undoubtedly need at some point. And I do miss my house, not to mention the cleaning I’m in for. God, I wonder if any of my plants made it? Is it weird that I’m looking forward to cleaning? And cooking, holy crap, do I miss cooking, and sun-bathing in the garden with my favourite music, and curling up on the sofa…”

  He smiled a kind of knowing smile, though, it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

  “Oh, I’m rambling now, aren’t I?”

  “A bit. But I get it. Home is… home. I’m glad you get to go back to yours.”

  “Me too. Um… so, I’m sure there’s a bunch of paper-work I’ll have to sign and I most definitely need a long shower and a lot of soap before I go anywhere. But I’d love to see you before I leave.”

  “Sure. I’ll most likely be in the control room, or my office. Just ask around.”

  “Okay.”

Authors’ Note: I love criticism, don’t be shy to let me know if there’s anything you like/don’t like/have questions about.

@blueeyesatnight​

[biggest-stupidhead]

Path Walker (Levi x OC)

Summary: Emory and Erwin butt heads

AN: In future chapters there WILL be mentions of sexual assault I will put a warning on that specific chapter and other future chapters that mention mature content. 

Word Count: 2.4K 

A grunt escaped my lips as I fell to the ground, Annie loomed over me her icy blue eyes burning into my own. I risked a glance at Shadis who lurked on the edge of the clearing with that brooding expression, those hazel eyes locked on Annie and I. Annie followed my gaze and smirked,

"Nervous Black?" Annie purred, leaning forward to hoist me up.

"Never." I snarled, swinging my fist in a wide arc, effectively clipping her chin. She stumbled backwards, surprised by my dirty attack. Shadis raised an eyebrow at this move, not necessarily an impressive technique but definitely unexpected. I gave chase, closing the space between us, forcing Annie to take a defensive stance. When I first started sparring with Annie she almost appeared bored, now she was wide eyed and very alert. I kept my elbows close to my chest as I scanned her small frame for an opening. Annie was about the same size as me, making us a relatively equal match. She danced back a few more steps, seemingly desperate to get away from my lightning quick punches. This time I allowed her to retreat, my cobalt eyes taking in the way her chest heaved and her hair was displaced and slipping from her low bun. The usually composed Annie Leonhardt was only slightly undone but all of your comrades took note. I allowed my eyes to scan the crowd that had gathered. Shadis had also snuck up on Annie and I, his features hard and unforgiving.

"Draw?" I asked, my voice coming out airy as I spoke. Annie nodded, her chest still heaving as she recovered from our tussle. The crowd let out some 'aws' and 'boos' due to our little show ending so abruptly. I dusted off my pants as the rest of the cadets dispersed as Annie and I recovered. Annie held her hand out and I took it, shaking it wordlessly before departing to find a new opponent. I halted abruptly when Shadis called out to me in that hoarse voice of his.

"Black! Your presence is requested in my office." he stood a distance behind me as I raised an inquisitive brow. Odd, sparring practice still had at least another hour. Surely he wouldn't leave the cadets unattended to hold a private audience with me? The thought made my stomach clench with dread, I learned early not to trust men. I paused before saluting him and giving a curt nod. I walked briskly over the training grounds, kicking up dust as I crossed the vast clearing. Finally I found myself in front of the small building that the superiors used to hold formal meetings and also were the few offices on the property were located. I paused, a carriage catching my eyes, a solider stood by the horses, holding the reins. I squinted trying to see the symbol on his military jacket. But he was too far away, and I wasn't very keen on getting caught staring at a stranger. So I walked into the building, heading straight for Shadis' office. I knocked on the door, not expecting a response since Shadis was supervising the sparring practice.

"Come in." I jumped at the sound of the deep masculine voice on the other side. My hand hovered over the knob, had Shadis set me up? Was I about to get thrown in jail? No I hadn't done anything illegal, at least not recently. Was Shadis conspiring with those notorious human traffickers? Was I being sold? No I need to chill the fuck out. I gripped the door knob and pushed the door open. My heart skipped a beat at the sight of Erwin Smith seated comfortably in Shadis' chair, although he rose as soon as I entered. I saluted him quickly, leaving my hand over my heart even though he had dismissed me.

"You gave me a heart attack, thought I was going to be sold into slavery." I sighed as I crossed the room and sank into the uncomfortable wooden chair across the desk. Erwin furrowed his eyebrows and fought a smile off of his lips at my words.

"Why on earth would you think that? Have you been so terrible that Shadis has resolved to slavery as a threat to make you behave?" Erwin asked raising a bushy brow. I scoffed and leaned forward in my seat.

"No, I've been quite good actually." I said proudly, a smile curving on my lips. Erwin smiled fully before turning his attention to a folder that sat on the desktop.

"I've come here today to remind you of the deal that you agreed to three years ago." straight to business, gotta love the guy.

"Yes I recall." I said leaning back in my seat. God has it really been three years?

"Your graduation is in exactly two weeks, and I am very pleased with your rankings." Erwin said as he flipped through the file, his blue eyes suddenly flickered to my face.

"Oh, well I wish I could've made top ten but..." I trailed off, a blush dusting my cheeks.

"Ranked 11th in your class, still an impressive feat, this is a very competitive group of cadets." Erwin said giving me a pointed look. I could only nod at his words, still confused as to why he had come all this way to visit me.

"Anyway, I just wanted to ensure that you would be joining the Survey Corps as arranged, I'm sure as you know our numbers have decreased significantly." he said, slowly standing up, his tall build did make him a bit intimidating. I lifted my head a bit higher in an attempt to meet the mountain of a man without standing. He placed a large hand on the back of my chair, I allowed my eyes to flit over his calloused hand for a moment before turning to meet his cerulean gaze.

"I am aware." I spoke curtly, growing tired of his condescending tone.

"We are in need of promising recruits like yourself and to see you slip into another regimen would truly be devastating. Besides..." his hand slid off the back of my chair and onto my shoulder. My blood ran cold as he leaned down to my level and tightened his grip on my shoulder.

"There's a certain someone who is expecting you." his words sent goosebumps up my spine. It had been three whole years since I had seen Levi. Now of course Erwin was using him as an incentive to stay true to my word. I tensed under his grip, but still managed to nod.

"Does he ask about me?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

"No... But I know he thinks about you." Erwin said, I nodded grimly, not really knowing what else I expected, he was kind to even add the last part. I laughed bitterly, "Why do I even bother." I cupped my face in my hands and slowly drug them down my cheeks. Erwin still held my shoulder firmly.

"Just uphold your end of the deal." he whispered, with a final squeeze he released my shoulder and returned to Shadis' seat, sinking into the back rest.

"Don't worry I will." I said, my own sapphire eyes narrowing as I spoke lowly. He waved his hand, dismissing me. I turned and quickly left without saluting him, a small act of rebellion. Gods, fuck that, did he really doubt my integrity so much to make a journey out here to ensure that I remembered the deal? Outrageous, I didn't even want this I never wanted to be a solider. I was only a child when this deal was made. By none other than Isabel, which is the only reason why I have decided to uphold my end.

When Levi, Farlan, and Isabel had been arrested Isabel begged Erwin to go back to the flat and bring me with them, at first he refused. But then when he learned that I was twelve years old he changed his mind. Why you might ask? Simply because he realized that he could make me a solider, a pawn in the fight for freedom. So exactly one year after my family's arrest he returned and gave me false documents, freeing me from the underground city. I stumbled, leaning against the railing of the dining hall, so engrossed in my memories that I failed to see a large rock in my path.

I blinked, the images of the dank city still dancing across my mind. I looked up at the sky to see the sun sinking lower, dinner would begin soon. But my stomach was churning with nerves as I thought about the place I had grown up and the people who had ensured my survival. Isabel, Farlan, Levi, they had saved me gotten me out of that hellhole. Now only two of us remained and he couldn't even fucking write me. I straightened up, pushing off the railing I stormed back towards the barracks, a new found rage instilled in my chest. Or maybe it wasn't new at all, maybe it had always been there, a nagging in the back of my head. Levi was never keen with me, but surely he cared enough to at least ensure that Erwin fulfilled Isabel's wish. But then again maybe he only enforced the deal to honor Isabel?

I frowned, Isabel was one of the few people who showed me kindness during my short life, she was like a big sister to me. I finally found myself struggling to open the door to the barracks, my hands shaking with emotion. With a final shove I pushed into the room, the bunk beds all made with care. I flopped onto my bunk and buried my face in the stiff pillow. I allowed a few small tears fall into the fabric before I finally pulled away from the pillow and breathed a heavy sigh. I looked down where my pillow once rested to see the carefully folded paper that I kept stored underneath the pillow. I gingerly unfolded the worn parchment with shaky hands. My shoulders sagged when I finished, the image that stared back at me made my heart ache. A drawing that Farlan had done only a few weeks before everything changed, a family portrait of sorts, you and Isabel between Levi and Farlan, Levi was drawn with a slight curl of his lip, his own way of smiling.

Isabel looked vibrant and full of life, Farlan looked cool as a cat, and I looked like a snotty brat with missing teeth and ratty hair. At the sight of my messy hair I recalled I memory of Isabel attempting to comb it to no avail, Farlan tried and also ultimately failed. But Levi pinned me to the ground and viciously raked the brush through my hair, and succeeded in detangling the mess. You didn't talk to him for a week after that. A shaky breath left my lungs as I focused on Isabel's wide eyes and the way Farlan's had an arm carelessly thrown over my shoulders. What I wouldn't do to feel his warmth by me again, admittedly I'd had an innocent crush on Farlan. It was only natural seeing as he was the one to take me in so graciously. I yelped when the door banged open, quickly stuffing my precious keepsake back under the pillow. Ymir padded in first, her arms folded behind her head, Krista followed closely after her. Mikasa wandered in after the odd pair along with Sasha and Annie brought up the rear. The lot of us occupied this small section of the barracks, Annie was the only one to spare me a second glance before tossing her jacket onto the bed above mine.

"What did Shadis do with you?" she asked indifferently, such an odd tone that made me think she didn't really care, but still bothered to ask the question.

"He did nothing, it was an old acquaintance of mine that requested my presence." I said throwing my legs over the edge of the bed. Annie raised a brow but didn't question any further, she set to work on unbuckling her harness, and shortly after, stripping her white jeans off. When she tossed the clothing onto the ground a strange scent washed over me. It smelled simply raw a foreign scent that I had never caught a whiff of before. Just as quickly as it had drifted under my nose it was gone, leaving an odd feeling in my stomach. Hm how odd, I thought as I watched Annie pull on a pair of loose pants. Just as I opened my mouth to ask her if she had found a new perfume or something Sasha plopped down on my bed.

"Sorry you couldn't come to dinner, I saved you a little something though!" she beamed as she pulled a half eaten loaf of bread out of her jacket pocket. I couldn't help but smile, in an odd distant way, she reminded me of my dear Isabel, kind and hard headed.

"Thanks Sasha, I appreciate that." I gingerly accepted the gift, and took a bite out of the loaf. Sasha looked pleased with herself, she got up and left me alone on my bunk, Annie crawled up onto the top as I dusted crumbs off my bed. Come to think of it, that scent from earlier was familiar, maybe she used the same soap as someone? No it wasn't a manmade scent, it was strange but somehow I knew that it was uniquely her. Like pheromones or some shit, my nose wrinkled and suddenly I felt over powered by the scent. I looked up to see Ymir passing, her shoulders pulled back proudly. What the fuck, man they reeked how had I never smelled it before? They smelled like sweat mixed with an earthy musk, my eyes watered as the smell continued to overpower my senses. I fell into a sneezing fit shortly after Ymir had walked back to her bunk, drawing some curious glances my way as I continued to sneeze my brains out.

"You alright down there?" Annie asked, her head dangling upside down to look at me underneath her.

"Fine, just.... Allergies." I sniffled, rubbing my arm discreetly over my nose partially to wipe snot away and also to protect it from her scent. Annie brushed her bangs off her face to get a better look at me, her brows pinched together and her mouth opened slightly as if she was about to say something.

"Lights out cadets!" Shadis banged on the barracks door loudly, shutting up every girl in the room. Mikasa got up and extinguished the torch, plunging the room into darkness. I heard Annie settle back into her bed, and I followed suit, my nose still burning from the stench.

[where-dreamers-go]

“Part 5 - Deals And Elevators” Riley Poole x Reader

(A/N: Requested. Splitting up to keep both the document and the spectacles separate worked, but with you and the Declaration of Independence taken by Ian, now Riley and Abigail have to tell Ben the news. Could things be spiraling out of their hands or could they get the upper hand?

Two points of view in this one!

Check out: Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four

Warnings: Bad guys have guns, kidnapping, a skeleton, some language at a point, and death mentioned.

Word Count: 8,687 words )

Quick paces and tired breaths. Riley and Abigail made their way down the sidewalk, glancing back every few seconds to make sure that they weren’t followed. Luckily they weren’t.

Huffing and puffing, they tried to catch their breaths. Failure seeping in. 

Riley could not think of an earlier time when he had mentally repeated the word ‘no’ before. If given the opportunity to yell at a wall, he would do so in a heartbeat.

More than out of sight of Ian, Riley was doing a poor excuse for a jog, but his heart wasn’t into it. There was a ache in his side that screamed for Riley to take a break and to stop moving. He couldn’t. Abigail couldn’t.

There was still danger. Danger for you, danger for the Declaration of Independence, and danger of literally anything that Ian would involve himself in.

Passing another building, neither Riley nor Abigail said anything. What would there be to say? What words could help or lessen what had happened out there on the crosswalk?

Digging into his jean pocket, Riley pulled out his cell phone. The battery already half used. There was only one person he thought of calling.

Once the ringing was interrupted there was a voice.

“What?”

“We lost it.” Riley got straight to the point.

“What?” Ben asked.

“We lost the Declaration. lan took it.” Riley walked beside Abigail, tired and partially defeated.

“Yeah, uh, okay. You all right? You all right?” Ben asked after a few moments of silence on his end.

“Yeah, yeah, we’re all right. Ben…Ian took (Y/N).”

“What?”

“Ben,” he sighed. “I’m sorry.” Riley held a hand on his waist, trying his best to keep his breathing in check. “They had the document. Ben—Ben, I don’t know what to do.”

“We’ll be fine.”

Abigail looked to Riley.

“Meet me at the car.” Ben hung up the phone.

With a motion of his hand, Riley flipped his phone shut.

The Declaration of Independence ending up in Ian’s hands when that was what they were trying to avoid all along was crushing. Ian kidnapping you was terrifying. There was no telling what he would do or give orders to do. Would he use you for leverage? Make you do something against your will? Would you do something risky?

Practically dragging the soles of his shoes, Riley walked beside Abigail. The old burnt orange sidewalks were a blur. One second Riley was saving Abigail and the next you were saving the Declaration. He could still see Ian yanking you off of the crosswalk.

All that work gone. A regrouping with Ben was a must.

I hope Ben can think of something, Riley thought.

Yes, the Declaration of Independence was incredibly important and there were sure to be more repercussions from stealing it, but you were one of his best friends. You were both close. Riley knew that you could handle yourself, that you were brave when you needed to be. He just hoped that Ian didn’t take advantage of that.

Wanting nothing more than to sit down and drink water, Riley and Abigail tiredly walked around a corner.

Eyes spotting Ben leaning against his father’s car, the pair jolted.

Riley mentally cursed. His flight instincts kicking in.

Ben was being arrested, the group around him no doubt FBI agents.

Backtracking, Riley silently urged Abigail out of sight and around the building. It took effort to turn his gaze away from his best friend being arrested. A continuing nightmare in front of his eyes.

Could this get any worse? Because I’m pretty sure it has, Riley thought.

Eventually the two made their way to a quiet quart-yard filled with a large fountain and luxurious green grass that was brighter than their whole week. The day and people around went on as normal as if unaffected by how Riley felt as if his whole world was crumbling from underneath his feet.

Abigail paced across the grass behind the bench Riley had sunk down to.

The last seventy-two or so hours flickered in his mind’s eye. The Charlotte, stealing the Declaration of Independence, saving Abigail in the middle of a car chase between vans, Ben’s dad finding out that they stole and tested on the Declaration, being chased down by Ian’s men after getting Franklin’s cool spectacles, Riley personally saving Abigail from being hit by a truck, you grabbing the Declaration, you being kidnapped by Ian, and Ben had literally just been arrested by the FBI. All for a treasure they had yet to find.

Great.

I can’t just get them back. Who knows where Ian is going? Ben’s done. I’m done. Might as well be.

Riley continued to sit on the bench with his face buried in his hands. His eyes stung from unshed tears. Fingers heavily dragged through his hair.

This is not happening.

Looking up, all Riley saw was the fountain with its endless loop of spurting out water. Neither Ben nor you were standing in front of him. His hands covered his mouth. Words were hardly anything he wanted to use in that moment.

Abigail sighed from behind him.

“Riley, do you know how to get in touch with lan?” Abigail asked.

Riley looked over his shoulder and asked, “Excuse me?”

“Can you call him?”

“Yeah…, but why? Shouldn’t I try to call (Y/N) and hope that—?”

“They shut off their phone earlier. To save the battery life.”

He sighed loudly.

Of course they would, he thought exasperated. Why do you have to be so aware of your technology this one time?

“We need Ben and (Y/N) back. And it’s illegal to get Ben back and I’m not about to start a criminal record.”

“Yeah, only…”

“Ian is a criminal.”

Riley caught on to what she was getting at. Not that he entirely liked the idea. Anything involving Ian at that point was something he would rather avoid. There were many ways he’d like to go about it.

“Okay…saying that Ian does get Ben away from the FBI, how does Ben know that it was our idea?” Abigail thought out loud. “We have to get a message to him.”

Riley blinked and said almost automatically, “Thomas Edison needed only one way to make a light bulb.”

She looked to him, a question in her expression.

“Just trust me. Ben will know it’s us.” He was confident in his choice of sending out a message to his best friend. Ben started it and there was no way he wasn’t going to be involved to see it through.

“Alright.” She nodded. “We’ll have them meet at Wall Street and Broadway.”

“Broadway?”

“The clue.”

Riley thought for a moment on her words before taking out his cell phone and clicking on his contact list.

. . .

“My name is Doctor Chase.”

Abigail had been on the phone for less than a minute and she already switched into professional mode. All business and not taking ‘no’ for an answer.

Riley wrung his hands together, heart rate up again.

Please work. Please work. Please work.

She wasn’t one for small talk with Shaw, much less Ian by the sounds of it.

“…and you let (Y/N) go. Ian, you can hold onto the Declaration for now—unharmed.”

Riley all but hid his face in his hands in anticipation.

Let them go. Come on.

“Because…,” Abigail held a serious expression, “If you do your part, you can have the treasure.” She frowned at whatever he said on the other end and added, “You need the next clue. We have it. If you help us get Ben back and give us back the Declaration, the meerschaum pipe, and (Y/N) unharmed, the treasure is all yours.”

Abigail smiled and Riley knew that Ian had accepted the deal. It still didn’t settle his nerves.

Soon she had given multiple instructions, times, and very specific details on what they had to do. Running the show and making sure Ian and his men would give (Y/N) back when Ben would do the trade seemed almost easy. Abigail did it without bating an eye.

Ending the phone call, Abigail handed Riley his cell phone back.

“Is (Y/N) okay? Are they still with them?” Riley asked, steeling himself for the news.

“(Y/N) is still with Ian, but they have a sprained ankle.”

He exhaled slowly, “Alright.”

“Riley?”

“Hmm?”

“Can you track them?”

He breathed in again, “I need a computer.”

“Alright, but…” Abigail frowned. “They won’t get Ben until tomorrow morning in New York.”

“Tomorrow? (Y/N) has to stay with them? Over night?” His hands clenched together before saying, “Well…if anything (Y/N) would claw their eyes out, but that’s just one option.”

Maybe with luck they’ll let (Y/N) go early. Wait…Abigail…where are we going to go?

. . .

To gain the upper-hand, Riley needed access to a computer. Sleep deprivation was the last thing on his mind. Night fell and when the sun rose up in the sky, you and Ben were still held against your wills.

Abigail and Riley had found an Internet café. Street Joe. Confidence boosted in him as he sat in front of a screen. Abigail watched over. Thankfully, Ian did not know where they were.

He had to believe that Ben and yourself would both make it out in one piece. If he didn’t…well, Riley didn’t want to even think about that. It would certainly churn the breakfast in his stomach.

The first thing on Riley’s list of tasks, as instructed by Abigail, was to keep track of Ian’s movements. So Riley easily tapped into tracking Shaw’s phone, Ian’s right hand man.

Why’d (Y/N) have to dive for the Declaration? Riley thought. They can be helping out right now.

. . .

It was about the time when Ben should had been picked up by Ian’s men. Abigail had everything timed to the minute. Running the whole operation and supervising via tracking of Shaw’s cell phone.

Grabbing Riley’s phone, Abigail called one of Ian’s mens’ phones.

“Hi, sweetie. How’s your day going?” Abigail asked into the phone.

Riley turned around in his seat.

Okaaayyyy, he thought.

“It turns out helping someone escape from FBI custody is a criminal act. And he’s the only criminal we knew.” She explained. “So we called him and made a deal.”

Riley waited patiently for new information. By the sounds of it, Ben was alright. Aside that he was with Ian’s men.

“Yeah, we both are. Riley’s right here, doing something clever with a computer.” Abigail got up and walked the short distance to Riley.

One hand on the keyboard and one hand on the mouse, Riley had returned his eyes to the screen.

“I’m tracking him through the…,” Riley started answering and was surprised that Abigail placed the phone over his ear. “Hey! I’m tracking you through the GPS in Shaw’s phone. They take a turn anywhere we don’t want, we’ll know it. So—.”

Abigail took the phone back to her ear.

“…don’t worry.” Riley finished in almost a whisper.

“If lan tries to double-cross us, we can call the FBI and tell them right where you are.” Abigail said. “And where to find lan.”

At the sound of Ian’s name, Riley looked out the large set of shop windows. What he saw obviously didn’t settle well with him, but he didn’t expect nothing less.

“Right across the street from where we're hiding, at the intersection of Wall Street and Broadway.” Abigail told Ben.

Ian paced the edge of the sidewalk with traveling tube in hand. The Declaration was hopefully inside. You were no where to be seen.

Riley kept his eyes trained for any sign you, however he only saw strangers.

“Simple. ‘Heere at the wall.’ Wall Street and Broadway.” She was smiling for a moment as she looked outside. There was a lengthy pause before she continued speaking. “Ben, there is a catch. We made lan believe he could have the treasure. It was the only way we could get this far.”

Eyes back on the computer in front of him, Riley saw Ben’s location.

“He’s here.” Riley announced.

Both Riley and Abigail stood up to lean close to the window. There they were able to see Ben exit a black car with Shaw and another of Ian’s men.

“Here we go.” Riley said.

Immediately looking to his right, Riley’s chest felt less constricted when he saw you walk from out of nowhere. How had he not seen you before? You there and close by wearing new clothes. He just didn’t like the idea of you having to stand so close to Ian. He exhaled hot air.

Please work.

. . .

Where’s Ben? You thought as you were allowed to exit the vehicle.

Ian gave you a look that told you not to utter a single word.

Jaw tightening, you steeled your nerves.

You had literally been kidnapped with the Declaration of Independence and forced into the back of a vehicle before a sick feeling took over you when you heard Patrick Gates telling you to ‘let the Declaration go’. They had Ben’s dad.

On top of that, Ian refused to let you go early when Abigail managed to contact him. He wanted Ben to give him the next clue first, which meant a sleepless night paired with paranoia.

There you were standing on the sidewalk beside Ian and ready to blurt out everything you then knew to Ben. Your best friends needed to know that there was much more at stake.

Ian was holding onto the pipe that you had all found in The Charlotte. It took a lot of self-preservation not to bring up what happened there in the Arctic Circle.

Even when Ben did show up, it didn’t matter. Ian had Patrick Gates and the plan was in his favor.

A black car pulled up to the sidewalk and caught Ian’s attention.

Two of the goons exited the car with Ben. Thankfully, he seemed unharmed.

“Ben.” Ian greeted.  “You all right? No broken bones? A jump like that could kill a man.”

“Naw, it was cool. You should try it sometime.”

The two men laughed in dry humor.

You stood off to the side, arms crossed over your chest.

“The Declaration of Independence. (Y/N). And the meerschaum pipe.” Ian placed the two items on the hood of the black car. “All yours.”                  

Ben gave Ian a side glance. Reading Ian more at that moment than during any friendly game of poker.

Never in your life did you ever wish you had telepathy than at that moment.

For once can he look in my eyes and figure out what’s going on here? BEN!

“That’s it?” Ben’s gaze returned to the historical items.

“That’s it.” Ian nodded.

Slowly, you sidestepped your way to your best friend. A slight throb in your ankle when you placed too much pressure on it. Even facing the two men, neither looked your way, annoyingly.

Ben, flippin’ look at me. Look. You thought as you frowned at your friend. Hello? Not good!

“I knew you’d keep your promise. Now, where is it? Where’s my treasure?”

“It’s right here.” Ben answered, still not moving from facing Ian Howe. “The map said ‘Heere at the wall’, spelled with two E’s. Wall Street follows the path of an actual wall that the original Dutch settlers built as a defense to keep the British out. The main gate was located at a street called De Heere, also two E’s. Later De Heere Street was renamed Broadway after the British got in. So, ‘Heere at the wall.’” He pointed towards the street sign, “Broadway, Wall Street. Cheerio.” Ben pocketed the pipe, grabbed the brand new traveling cylinder for the document, and after a pivot on his heel he started tugging you away from Ian.

Not even two steps away and Ian spoke again.

“Just a moment, Ben.”

Your best friend slowly turned back to face him.

“lan, if you break our deal, the FBI will be only a few minutes behind you. You might get away, you might not.” Ben said, a sly confidence in his tone.

“Ben,” you hissed.

An eerie silence came down between the men. Eyes did not wander elsewhere.

Ian took two steps in Ben’s direction, eyes staring him down.

“Is that all the map said?” He asked.

Your fingers dug into Ben’s jacket sleeve.

“Every word.” Ben breathed out.

You placed a hand on your best friend’s arm, knowing what was about to come.

“Oh, Ben.” A smile appeared on Ian’s face. “You know the key to running a convincing bluff? Every once in a while you’ve got to be holding all the cards.”

You swallowed.

Across the street sat a large black vehicle, upon given a cue, one of Ian’s goons opened the back door to reveal Patrick Gates with his hands duct taped together.

“Dad.” Ben breathed out.

The door was slammed shut.

“Is there anything else you want to tell me?” Ian asked.                  

Yeah, you’re a jerk, you thought. Buying me meals after you kidnapped me doesn’t change that.

Ben turned back to Ian and answered, “Trinity Church. We have to go inside Trinity Church.”

Ian looked around them. They were already there. Outside anyway.

“Good. Excellent.” Ian said. “Well, why don’t you ask Doctor Chase and Riley to join us? I’m sure they’re around here somewhere.” He patted Ben’s front and walked off.

You peered around with a spark of hope.

Where would th—ah. You spotted an Internet café and allowed yourself a small smile. Clever Riley.

. . .

Trinity Church.

The church was empty as Ian lead the way inside. You and Ben followed with Patrick between the pair of you. Shaw and Phil walked quietly behind you. The room was huge with an aisle down the center.

You would had appreciated the church’s beauty more if it wasn’t for the situation.

“Are you all right?” Ben asked his father.

“What do you think? I’m a hostage.” Patrick’s voice was hushed, his hands no longer taped together.

“At least we’re still breathing,” you whispered.

“Sit. Sit down,” Shaw ordered softly. Perhaps being inside of a church would help in regards of safety. Ushering both you and Patrick to take a seat in one of the middle rows.

Reluctantly, you and Patrick sat down. Upon sitting, you gingerly elevated your foot. Even after a night of icing it, it was still bothering you a bit. Phil and Shaw sat close by.

“Let them go, Ian.” Ben said, still walking with the man with all of the cards.

“When we find the treasure.”

“No, now.” His voice raised. “Or you can figure out the clues for yourself.” Ben dug in his pocket and handed over the glasses case.

“Ben. I don’t think you fully appreciate the gravity of the situation.”

Ian, ever the hierarchy man. You thought bitterly.

click

You all but elbowed Patrick in the side at how fast you turned in the seat. Eyes locked to one of the doors as it opened.

One goon strolled in followed by Abigail, Riley, and another goon.

They’re okay!…were they caught? You thought, your fingers wrapped tightly to the back of the long bench.

One of the goons placed a hand on Abigail’s shoulder and a frown immediately took over your features. Both Abigail and Riley were herded to sit on one of the far back benches. The end of their row was blocked by both goons. Their eyes were trained forward and also holding onto the seating in front of them.

The distance aggravated you. It twisted your emotions and sought out numerous possibilities into closing that distance.

Catching Abigail’s eye, you gave her a reassuring nod. Riley on the other hand must have had a mixture of emotions going through him because you could not tell how he was feeling, especially not at that distance. You turned back in your seat with a sigh. Though you could move your hands it felt as if they were tied.

“Let’s have a look at that map,” Ian’s voice barely carried to where you sat.

Both Ben and Ian took their own seats a few rows ahead of yours.

Just be patient. Everything will be okay, you thought as you adjusted your ankle’s position. We’re going to be okay.

You were quiet like everyone else as you watched on. Only Ben and Ian were allowed to look at the clue. Ben had put on the Franklin spectacles first as Ian held up the Declaration.

How many of our fingerprints are on that now?

After what felt like endless seconds, Ben said something.

“It’s uh…It's... it’s really quite something. It’s, uh…It really is remarkable. Take a look.” Ben handed Ian the spectacles.

You internally grumbled. The time of quiet and no action made your paranoia of impending doom reemerge. Ian’s goons held a silent stance, like a threat that never ceased. Wanting to know the next clue was less as intense as you wanting to grab your friends and walk away from the treasure hunt altogether. Or run, which every suited better.

“‘Parkington Lane.’” Ian read aloud. 

“‘Beneath Parkington Lane.’” Ben added.

“But why would the map lead us here, then take us somewhere else? What’s the purpose?”

“Just another clue.” Patrick piped up.

Your eyes rolled to the high ceiling.

“Dad.” Ben chided. “No, you’re right. Parkington Lane has to be here somewhere.”

“A street inside the church?” Ian asked, holding the document.

“Not inside. Beneath. Beneath the church.”

Oh, no. Cramped spaces with these guys? Great, we’ll be underground with orders-following human beings. With guns. You sunk lower in your seat.

And just like that you all were being herded together and lead down the aisle. Meanwhile all you wanted to do was check on your friends. You hadn’t seen them in hours. It honestly felt like days.

There was not an opportunity for you to stop or just say something while in the hushed rush. Patrick, however did stop to the side and you automatically walked in front of him to go to Ben. Your best friend helped lead the way. Peeking behind you, the goons were all but pushing Abigail, Riley, and Patrick. Perhaps that was why Patrick let you walk ahead of him.

Shaw was quick to walk alongside Ian as Ben trailed behind closely as he held onto the document in its container.

The three men made their way into a small hall, to which you didn’t know what to make of it. Just another path leading to the next clue.

A lonely door was the next step.

Without hesitation, Shaw opened the door and patted Ian’s arm as he allowed him to pass through first. Shaw walked in right after Ian. Ever the close of friends.

You were a couple of steps behind and nodded to Ben as he held the door. A body bumped into you and Riley immediately mumbled out an apology. Moving through the new dark hall, you weren’t able to make out what Abigail was saying before she crossed through the doorway with Ben.

Two furnaces greeted you as you walked into another room. Tombs lined up the interior wall off to the right hand side.

Fun, okay. You picked up on the rough and smoky scent in the room. Abigail came to stand beside you.

The goon pushed Riley forward, causing Riley to look behind him. When the man made eye contact with you, you gave a strong warning look. He looked away, unable to hold your gaze.

Satisfied, you turned to check on the Gates, you spotted Ben going to talk with his dad.

Good, they sho—

A gentle hand touched your shoulder.

Abigail’s eyes were soft as she looked to you.

“Are you alright? I’m sorry we couldn’t get you sooner.” Abigail said quietly as you both walked further into the room.

“No, no. Thank you,” you smiled and spoke quickly. “You’re awesome. We got this far because of you. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Abigail returned your smile until Riley practically stepped on your toes. She then made her way over the the tombs.

“Are you okay? What happened?” Riley whispered, hand on your arm. Blue eyes trading between looking you straight in the eyes to the men around you both.

It was easy to see that Riley was relieved to see that you were safe. Well as safe as you could be, given the situation. He then eyed how you favored one leg over the other.

“Think I twisted my ankle.”

Riley huffed and pulled you in for a tight hug.

“That was a stupid move.”

“I know.” You murmured into his hoodie.

“Brave, but stupid.” He hugged you a little closer, his arms wrapped around your back.

“Let’s go.”

You both stepped out of the hug, no matter how comforting it might have been, and went to help Abigail look for the name. Thankfully there weren’t too many to choose from.

“Hey! Par…” Riley announced, pointed to an engraving. “Hey, I found it!”

Abigail stepped over and you followed suit just as Ian practically sidelined you to see for himself. After a partially peeved look from you, you went to stand next to Abigail so you wouldn’t be in the way. Although Phil was standing right there on her other side.

“Him!” Riley said, still pointing.

“Ben!” Ian shouted. “It’s a name.” Ian reported just as Ben pushed his way through the group.

Running his fingers over the engraved stone, Ben read softly, “Parkington Lane.” Studying the tomb, Ben took it all in. “He was a third-degree master mason of the Blue Lo…”

Ian had given a head nod and backed up.

Ben leaped back and collided into you as a goon came at the tomb with a full back swing of a large wrench of some sort.

“Hey! Stop!”

Everyone ducked away as the man repetitively hit the stone to crumbles of dust. After the next hit, you all watched on in disappointment. The guy was literally destroying history and the face of a tomb all in one go. There wasn’t anything you could do. Not even Patrick said anything.

Once the face of the tomb was broken down, the man stepped away and Shaw started clearing some debris. Soon Ian, three of his four goons, and Ben pulled out a rectangular coffin.

You watched on over Riley’s shoulder.

“Easy.”

The group started to lower down the coffin and—

In a heap, the bottom of the coffin and all of the skeletal remains fell out onto the floor.

Whoa.

“Careful no one steps in him.”

Riley stepped back, letting you be closer to the skeleton as he turned his head and blocked his eyes with one hand.

“All right, put it down.” Ben instructed, keeping an eye on what lay at their feet.

With a soft thump, the coffin was on the flooring.

Everyone leaned in close to have a peek into the small carved out opening. Shaw shined a flashlight inside.

“Okay. Who wants to go down the creepy tunnel inside the tomb first?” Riley asked.

Heh, no, you thought from your spot behind Ben and Riley.

“Right. McGregor, Viktor, you stay here. And if anyone should come out without me, well... use your imagination.” Ian said.

You glared into the front of his skull.

“Shall we?”

Without hesitation, Ben climbed in the tomb with a flashlight in hand. Ian didn’t wait a second to go in and unsurprisingly Shaw went in next. Riley assisted both Abigail, you, and Patrick up onto the top of the coffin as you all made your way into the small tunnel.

It was cramped, had a stale smell, and was naturally dirty.

“You got a light?” Ben asked from up ahead.

Light flickered to life in the space ahead of you as climbed out into a more comfortable hall of sorts. Cobwebs hung off of all corners. You followed after Patrick to an archway.

“Careful.” Ben said as he helped his dad through before giving you a hand over a minor obstacle. A torch in his other hand giving light to the way forward.

You breathed out a short breath as you managed not to aggravate your ankle thus far.

What I’d do to be back in my apartment.

“Watch your step.”

Riley was behind you in moments, eyes glancing around the space and to your leg. You gave him a small smile in response and gestured for him to get in front of you. You took another step—

“Come here.” Ben said.

At the sound of Ben’s voice, you turned in time to see him kiss Abigail. You rose your eyebrows and soon returned your sights forward.

Well then…was right about their tension…well…chemistry, you thought with a smirk. Giving them privacy, you continued forward.

Cautiously going further into the unknown, you were glad that Ben made his way towards the front of the group with his torch where Ian and Patrick were. You felt better at least with seeing what was there instead of last minute dodging cobwebs. None of you needed to trip over anything nor fall if light could give a better view.

“What's this?” Ian asked.

Seeing Ben’s head turn down, your eyes glanced down the flooring which turned to old wood. Unsettlingly, there was a very prominent break in the wooden planks in a similar shape of a shoe.

“It's a chandelier.” Ben answered as the group of you gathered to the railing. Using the fire from the torch, he lit the large chandelier.

Woodwork, cobwebs, rope, and stone were then visible as the room was illuminated. A series of steps and walkways lined the circular area.

“Here.” Ben and Riley untied the rope that held the chandelier close to the railing. The pulley system lead the light to the center of the open space. He tied off the rope.

Peeking over the railing, you saw how the stairs lead much further down than you would had liked.

“Wow.” Riley breathed out.

“Look at the elevators.” Ben said.

“A dumbwaiter system.” Patrick observed.

Wooden platforms were held by rope systems on the lower levels and hung over the darkness below.

“How do a bunch of guys with hand tools build all this?” A goon asked as he held a torch aloft. At some point it was passed on to him.

“Same way they built the pyramids and the Great Wall of China.” Ben said calmly.

“Yeah. The aliens helped them.” Riley murmured as he looked across the room.

“They had better tech anyway,” you mused.

Riley turned and raised an eyebrow at you in that little ‘we need to talk about this later’ look.

“Right, let's go. What are we waiting for?” Ian turned towards the first set of stairs.

“I’m not going out on that thing. Two hundred years of termite damage and rot.” Patrick said as he was given the torch from the goon, who at that point you had completely forgotten their name.

“Dad, do what he says.” Ben nodded.

You peered over to the wooden steps.

Two hundred years? You cringed.

Reluctantly, Patrick lead the way.

Each time you heard a creak of wood or a snap, you all but went wide-eyed. You stayed close behind Ben. Every step you took was done gingerly. Especially when a wooden step was not intact.

You weren’t too keen on touching the railing because it was probably littered with sprinters, but you were also hyperaware of how fragile the whole system was held together.

Two hundred year old wood. There’s no telling when gravity will take a large piece of this. You thought, almost forgetting that this was all for finding treasure. Please just let us get to the treasure or next clue safety. I just want to go home at this point.

A small clack of wood and your eyes darted across to Patrick.

“Watch your step.” Patrick called out as he stepped over a gap in the walkway. “We’re right under the Trinity graveyard. That’s probably why no one ever found this.”

You took a step down, watching your feet placement as well as Ben’s. Just in case.

Okay, then.

“Oh. Ah. Uhh.”

You looked over your shoulder to see Riley still at the last railing and shaking his hands. There was a look of disgust on his face that tripled as he looked down to his shoes.

“Hah! Oh!” Riley spun around and practically started pulling himself up on the chain that sat atop of a large wooden beam.

Bugs? You wondered as you again started forward.

In only a handful of moments, Riley had pushed his way between you and Abigail. She put a reassuring hand on his shoulder and he flinched.

A very disgusted and yet childish noise escaped his mouth.

You did your best not to laugh at his expense. Smile disappearing, you swallowed and stepped down onto a section without any railings.

Rumbling sounded from the walls and from above.

You paused, as did the others when dust and dirt fell from above.

“What is that?” Riley asked from behind you.

The rumbling continued.

The group of you inched closer to the wall, peering around.

Soon the rumbling subsided and faded.

“Subway.” Shaw answered from in front of Ben.

A cold chill ran up your spine and it wasn’t because Riley’s breath was tickling your ear either. You looked up to the chandelier then back ahead.

Shaw then took one step forward.

In a break of wood and screams, Shaw fell through the wood.

“Shaw! Oh, God, Shaw!” Ian cried out as his friend dropped and broke through another walkway below until he was no longer seen.

You hardly recalled the scream that escaped your throat. Fear started to build up in your veins.

Oh, no, no, no, no. No.

“Oh, my God.” Abigail gasped.

I have a bad feeling about this.

There was only a couple of moments of shared looks.

In a matter of seconds, all of hell broke loose.

The walkway beneath your feet buckled and started giving way. You fell back against the wall as Riley landed on the steps. Ben had dropped into a crouch.

Again, the wood buckled and fell apart. You launched to the right, arms clinging to wooden beams as your feet were no longer supported. On your left, Powell, that was his name, was tugging Ian up to safety. To your right, Riley was trying to worm his way up onto the beam he clung so hard to. On the stairs, Ben, your best friend, scrapped for hold onto ancient wood, his feet dangling over the abyss.

“I gotchu,” Powell had a hold on Ian.

“Ben! Grab my hand.” Abigail reached for him.

You struggled and inched your way closer to where Ian, Powell, and Patrick stood. A hand reached out—

CRUNCH

The walkway tilted, the three men moments away from falling.

“Patrick!” You shouted, seeing less of an escape route.

“Get on the elevator,” Ian said. “Jump.” He pushed Powell on the contraption.

CRUNCH

Patrick and Ian were hanging on to the walls as you were, but still had something to stand on. You all but heaved your way onto the walkway.

“It’s okay!” Powell shouted. “Come on.” He gestured with his hand and Patrick tossed over the torch.

Teetering, you managed into a crouch position.

Patrick leaped to the elevator, landed on his feet, and caught ahold of the rope railing.

With a final crunch, the walkway started to fully give way. Both you and Ian leaped the distance to the elevator.

Adrenaline was one heck of a booster. Pain quadrupled in your ankle as soon as you landed on the wooden planks on the other side and clung to Patrick Gates. Ian had landed rather harshly behind you. Powell helped him up in less time than it took you to turn around and check on your friends.

All three, Abigail, Ben, and Riley were alive and standing a level above. At the sight, your heart rate went down a fraction. You weren’t sure if you could handle any more life threatening scenarios. You were more than sure you couldn’t handle seeing any of your friends hurt or worse.

“Ian,” Ben called, “We can’t go down this way. We’ll leave. W-we’ll come back. We’ll have safety gear, exploration crew.”

“No.” Ian said. “We find the treasure. Get in the elevator.”

“You saw what happened to Shaw.”

Before any of you could properly react, Ian had grabbed Patrick by the back of his head and leaned him over the side of the elevator.

“Wait-no!”

“Ian!” You took calculated steps closer to Patrick and the farthest away from Ian.

“NO!” Ben’s voice echoed.

No one moved.

Your thoughts zipped through possible scenarios of how to get Patrick behind you and Ian off the elevator or face-planted into the wood without Powell hitting you. Although grabbing Patrick’s wrist and kicking Ian’s knee was sounding like a good option.

Ben’s dad could only be looking down into the abyss below.

“Get. On the elevator,” Ian ordered, eyes set on Ben.

“Okay.” Ben said. “It’s okay, dad.”

Ian had yet to move an inch until Ben nodded as he stepped onto the separate elevator. It was only then that Ian released Patrick and you immediately shielded the older man.

At that point you shouldn’t had been surprised by Ian’s actions, but . . .you were.

Ben made sure both Abigail and Riley made it onto the elevator. The three of them visibly not trusting the elevator system.

“Okay, let’s go down.” Ian said.

Don’t look down. Don’t look down. Don’t flippin’ look down.

Powell and Ben each rotated the lever that resembled a large version of what rolled down car windows before automatic buttons. Each tiny click and tick of the elevator system made you look for a distraction.

Catching sight of Abigail shaking her head, you could practically read her mind. The trust and safety was at an all time low.

If she didn’t trust it then you didn’t trust it. Abigail’s instincts were on point and held low risk. The Declaration of Independence had survived thus far unscathed with her help. Mostly for making sure that none of you had directly squeezed lemon juice onto it. That would had been more than a little alarming.

Reading Riley’s expressions was the easiest part of the whole treasure protecting business you all found yourselves in. He was the little spark of glee regardless the spots of gloomy realism that he voiced. For everything you were faced against, he handled it the best that he could, with a piece of tech or not. You admired him for that.

Ben was a firm foundation. It seemed almost impossible that he could be brave through all of this. You were proud of him for keeping his cool and not risking too much. He had his morals and limitations.

If anyone could find the treasure and should find it, it should be Ben. You smiled confidently and looked—

A whirling sound of rope and the screams of your best friends tore a hole in your soul. Their elevator dropped, bypassing the one you were on, and going down a few more levels before jerking to a stop.

Heart pounding, you squinted your eyes to catch a clear glimpse of them.

“Get down there! Get down there!” Patrick ordered to the two men.

Man, if they don’t, I will. You thought while sending a hard look to Powell.

“Don’t stop,” you directed.

Hearing a voice from below, you looked over the side to see that Riley had jumped over successfully to a stable walkway.

He jumped? Your eyes went wide.

Riley reached up his hand as Ben held the document out and ready to toss it down to him.

Before you could think of why they would make an exchange except to help, Ben and Abigail dropped straight down. Wood splintering and dust bursting.

Screaming erupted once more alongside cracking of wood.

You watched in horror as your friends fell once more. You wanted to help them more than anything, to be closer if only the darn elevator was safe enough and more efficient.

There was nothing you could possibly do and in a split second you might have the same fate. Watching as the ones you cared for the most were teetering on the edge of survival. You were stuck on a slow elevator that probably wouldn’t last much longer.

Your friends’ elevator broke through everything until it snapped on one side.

“Ben!” Abigail was sliding off of the broken elevator as it barely hung on. Her and Ben’s hands latched together.

The elevator you were on still lowered at a dangerous slow pace.

Groaning of wood echoed through the space as the broken elevator started to swing. Meanwhile, Abigail’s legs were dangling over its side.

You couldn’t hear if they were talking or not, but the pulse in your ears didn’t help. Stomach dropping, you frowned.

Is that the Declaration? You thought as you did your best not to look over too far over the side.

As the elevator swung closer to the wall, Abigail fell. Thankfully, she landed on an extended walkway that held together. Although on her back, she was able to move fine.

SNAP

The elevator then dangled with Ben holding on with one hand and the Declaration strapped to him.

“Oh, no! Ben!” Abigail shouted as he tried pulling himself up, but only breaking off a piece of wood. “Hang on!”

After what felt like an endless thirty seconds or less, Patrick was able to send down a line of rope.

“Son!”

Grabbing on, Ben swung to the safety of the walkway near Abigail and climbed over the railing.

You sighed. Tension leaving your shoulders, stomach, and basically everywhere else.

How much more could your little heart take?

Patrick put a hand on your shoulder. A simple gesture of reassurance. You returned the gesture before pulling the rope back up.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I dropped you. I had to save the Declaration.” Ben said reaching out to Abigail.

“No, don’t be. I would have done exactly the same thing to you.” She said.

“Really?”

“I would have dropped you both.” Riley trotted down the stairs. “Freaks.”

Their voices travelled up through the shaft to where the elevator was still lowering to their level.

A silence filled the group as your elevator finally came down into view for your friends.

“Get on.” Ian ordered.

“lan…it’s not worth it.” Ben said, still catching his breath.

“Do you imagine any one of your lives is more valuable to me than Shaw’s? We go on.”

You swallowed and looked to Patrick.

“The status quo. Keep the status quo.” Patrick said softly, eyes on his son.

Without a word, the three carefully stepped aboard. Seeing that the elevator was still stable, Powell lowered the elevator. Crowded though it was, it still worked.

I hope the treasure isn’t at the bottom of all of this, you thought.

Finally reaching another level with an opening, you felt a glimmer of hope.

“Now what?” Riley asked, looking at the level you were all heading down to. By the tone in his voice, he was done.

After all this you just really wanted something to eat, a shower, and your bed. Was that so much to ask for? Well, maybe one more thing, but you weren’t so sure about that.

“This is…” Patrick said, “This is where it all leads.”

Ben tossed a rope to the wood across to the port, of sorts. He and Riley pulled the elevator over before tying it off.

“Okay, let’s go.” Ben said and Abigail handed him over the torch.

Ben took point with Ian towards the new section.

Powell waited as Riley, again, helped Abigail, you, and Patrick. There was a small step down, but who knew how unstable that wood was.

As it was, the wooden planks underneath your feet were already given out, but at least it was made over solid ground. You were thankful for that much.

Using the flames from the torch, Ben removed the thick cobwebs from the archway. A doorless room came into view as Ben lit two more torches at the entrance.

Moving into the room one after another, you saw that the room was circular and had only a lantern standing. You and Abigail took it all in quietly.

Both Powell and Patrick had grabbed a torch of their own and migrated around the room. Patrick walked over to the hanging lantern and gave it light.

Everyone had their eyes peeled for a hint, a clue, an opening for the next step. Something to catch the eye.

At a point, Ben had given Riley both the Declaration’s case tube and the torch to hold on to as he surveyed the room.

“What is this?” Riley asked, turning around.

“So where’s the treasure?” Powell asked from near Ian.

Ben sighed as he turned to face everyone.

“Well?” Ian looked to Ben.

“This is it?” Riley’s voice raised. “We came all this way for a dead end?”

You didn’t want to believe that. You didn’t want to think of the consequences. The legal ones and the ones who were with you with guns.

“Yes.” Ben stated.

Laughing softly, Ian turned away.

You and Abigail shared a look of uncertainty.

“There’s gotta be something more.” Riley reasoned.

“Riley, there's nothing more.” Ben said.

“Another clue, or…”

“No, there are no more clues!” Ben shouted. “That’s it, okay? It’s over! End of the road. The treasure's gone. Moved. Taken somewhere else.”

You sucked in a breath, shoulders tense. Swallowing, your eyes darted between your friends.

Riley had not moved an inch as Ben yelled at him. Ben never raised his voice like that.

“You’re not playing games with me, are you, Ben? Hm?” Ian stared him down. “You know where it is.”

Ben’s eyes darted away for a moment before answering, “No.”

“Okay, go.” Ian said, barely turning to Powell.

Powell jogged his way back to the elevator.

Ian remained looking at the five of you for a second more before following after Powell.

“Hey, wait a minute.” Ben started forward.

The rest of you followed suit, not wanting to be left behind.

“Hey! lan, wait!” Riley shouted.

“Wait, wait, wait!” Patrick hurried.

“Wait a minute!” You rushed towards the entrance.

“lan…” Abigail started speaking.

“We’ll be trapped.” Riley reasoned.

“Don’t do this.” Ben said calmly.

“Hey, wait a minute,” You spoke again.

“You can’t just leave us here.” Abigail stood in front of you.

“Yes, I can.” Ian voiced as Powell already started moving the elevator up. “Unless Ben tells me the next clue.”

The elevator stopped ascending.

“There isn’t another clue.” Ben assured him.

“lan,” Riley said calmly, but you caught as the other man started rolling his eyes. “Why don’t you come back down here and we can talk through this together?”

Ben had his eyes trained on Ian as he continuously tapped a hand on Riley’s chest to alert him as Riley spoke.

The hairs on the back of your neck stood on end.

A second later, Ian had whipped out Powell’s gun from his holster and pointed it directly at Riley.

“Don’t speak again.” Ian stated with a dark look in his eyes.

“Okay.” Riley voice was incredibly small. Frozen in his spot, only his eyes moved.

Air had difficulty moving in and out of your lungs as your stomach dropped. It was like being on The Charlotte all over again.

Shit.

“The clue. Where’s the treasure?” Ian still held the weapon aloft. “Ben?”

Your best friend remained silent as your thoughts told you that Ian would leave Ben for last.

click

“The lantern.” Patrick spoke up.

“Dad…”

“The status quo has changed, son.”

“Don’t.” Ben shook his head.

“It’s part of freemason teachings.” Patrick started explaining as Ian lowered the weapon. “In King Solomon’s temple there was a winding staircase. It signified the journey that had to be made to find the light of truth.” Patrick turned to gesture behind him. “The lantern is the clue.”

“And what does it mean?” Ian asked with narrowed eyes.

“Boston.” Ben breathed out, sounding defeated. “It’s Boston.”

“The Old North Church in Boston, where Thomas Newton hung a lantern in the steeple, to signal Paul Revere that the British were coming. One if by land, two if by sea. One lantern. Under the winding staircase of the steeple, that’s where we have to look.”

One lantern? You peered over to Abigail who was eyeing the Gates men.

A smile took over Ian’s face as he said, “Thank you.”

He’s seriously thanking Patrick right now? He’s saying ‘thank you’?

“Hey, you have to take us with you.” Patrick interjected.

“Why? So you can escape in Boston? Besides, with you out of the picture there’s less baggage to carry.”

“What if we lied?”

“Did you?” Ian held up the gun once more.

“What if there’s another clue?” Ben added.

Lowering his arm, Ian said with finality, “Then I’ll know right where to find you. See you, Ben.”

Powell rose the elevator up and further out of sight.

“No!”

“There’s no other way out!” Riley shouted, voice cracking.

“Come back!” Abigail yelled.

“You’re gonna need us, lan!” Ben called out halfheartedly.

You looked over to Abigail as things grew quiet and the elevator sounds had faded. Ben and Patrick didn’t seem entirely concerned. Something was off.

“We’re all gonna die.” Riley murmured.

There was a tightening in your chest.

“It’s gonna be okay, Riley. I’m sorry I yelled at you.” Ben pointed at Riley before patting his shoulder and making his way back into the circular room.

“It’s okay, kiddo.” Patrick patted Riley’s shoulder as well.

The Gates’ men were all smiles.

“Wha—?” You turned around.

“Okay, boys, what's going on? The British came by sea. It was two lanterns, not one.” Abigail quickly turned to go after them with the Declaration.

You briefly tapped Riley’s arm and returned to the room.

“lan needed another clue, so we gave it to him.” Patrick explained happily as he checked one of the set-in walls.

Riley walked up between you and Abigail before speaking aloud, “It was a fake. It was a fake clue.”

Abigail nodded to Riley.

“You were able to lie?” Your eyes focused on Ben, aghast. “Successfully?”

A odd sort of happy release of tension filled your limbs. Any known and true danger was on it’s way up and out of the church.

“The all-seeing eye.” Ben whispered as he ran a hand over one of the carved-in walls.

Riley took a step closer to you. After a quick glance at one another, you both looked away.

“‘Through the all-seeing eye.’” The lit torch in Ben’s hand illuminated the old art on the wall. A single eye. He brushed away at thick layers of dirt and dust.

You breathed out a sigh of relief. It was back to basic searching of treasure. You reminded yourself again that danger had literally took the elevator up and you consciously lowered your shoulders from their perch by your earlobes. Without fear of gaining unwanted attention, you looked Riley over, making sure that he was somewhat okay. You noticed Riley’s hands trembling slightly.

You tentatively slipped a hand into his.

The vulnerable expression on his face had yet to dissipate.

“That means…” Riley said his thoughts out loud, “by the time lan figures it out and comes back here, we’ll still be trapped, and he’ll shoot us then. Either way, we’re gonna die.”

You gave a light squeeze to Riley’s hand.

Ben looked to all of you with a soft, confident gaze, “Nobody’s gonna die.”

There was a pause.

“There’s another way out.”

Riley all but rushed forward, not letting you go and urged you to move as he asked, “Where?”

“Through the treasure room.”

~~~~~

~~~~~

(That concludes Part Five - Deals And Elevators. Having Riley’s point of view was not planned early on, but I’m glad I changed it up. So, I added in the deleted scene, which is basically the extended version of the shaft scene where all the elevators are either falling or just making noise. Anyone else notice that Ian really, really doesn’t like Riley? Anyway, now that danger has passed, the friends can be together again! YAY! Get ready for part 6—the final part of the series!!! Will Riley ever know that the Reader likes him more than a best friend??? Ben definitely knows.

If you love my writings and want to support me, I have a Ko-Fi where you can buy me a coffee. I would be eternally grateful. coffee

Best wishes and happy reading.)

~~~~~

DreamerDragon Tags: @imacuteprincess @gingerlaserbeam @cubedtriangle @sledgy14 @thecaptainsgingersnap @awkwardspontaneity 

**Let me know if you would like to be tagged in insert readers, either through replies, ask, or message.**

Part 6/Finale

[conaionaru]

Woman’s game (Ivar the Boneless/Hvitserk)

No time to die

Synopsis: Skuld finally leaves the hut and reunites with Ivar. She deals with the aftermath.

Warnings: PTSD, murder, revenge, suicide attempt, trauma, toxic relationship

Tags: @youbloodymadgenius​

Skuld sat in the hut, watching the light stream in from the small crack in the wall. The wall was sturdy enough to hold her in, but at least it gave her some sort of light—the only ray of sunlight since the start of her confinement.

She felt empty, emptier than she did before. She must look like a madwoman - dirty and crazy. Yet she still laughed. At least some things are very still funny to her, like the occasional shadow that passed by the crack in the wall or the hopelessness of it all. That was the funniest thing for her—the fact she will probably starve here before getting to leave.

All these visions of her future, all crushed in this endless darkness, all because she fucked a cripple. Who knows if what Astrid said is true? Did Lagertha truly only notice her cause she slept with Ivar? If Skuld slept with Margrethe like she thought she would, no one would have paid her any mind... Nonsense. Lagertha was intimidated by Skuld's mind, not her bedfellows.

The new Queen had to make sure no one would challenge, so breaking the most ambitious woman in court was a good example. Better a madwoman than a corpse. Oh, but she will pay for that miscalculation. Skuld would wait and kill her slowly. Dragging it out till there will be nothing left of the bitch than legends and whispers.

Meanwhile, Ivar sat before Lagertha, annoyed by her denial of their fight to the death. "Where is Skuld?" He asked the smug Queen; seeing the uncertainty in her eyes made him perk up. She knew where the now blonde was.

"Skuld is locked away for her own safety. If you want to care for her, I can give her to you." Lagertha said diplomatically as the sons of Ragnar frowned. Sigurd and Ubbe completely forgot about their mother's guest.

"And since when is the daughter of an Earl property?" Ubbe asked, watching the blonde Queen frown.

"A guest in need of supervision. Not property." Shieldmaidens brought the girl in. Dirty, dressed in a slave garb with greasy hair and bloody scratch marks on her arms.

The people gasped as they saw her, so strange compared to her usual style. Skuld shielded her eyes from the sunlight, squinting at the harshness of it and the whispers of the people around her. "Skuld," Ivar called out, making her look at him with shocked eyes. He was alive.

She slowly walked over to him, the armed shieldmaidens behind her. Ubbe draped his fur around her as she clenched Ivar's hand in hers. She was shaking and looking around like a wounded animal.

"I am sorry for your treatment, Skuld. But your behavior against me is unforgivable." The Ylvasdottir looked up at Lagertha and tilted her head to the side.

Her blue eyes trailed over to the proud female warrior still standing there, her guard down as she watched her mentor talk. Skuld blinked and stabbed the woman in the neck. Blood sprayed over her face as the gasping warrior fell backward, the other shieldmaidens catching her bleeding body. Out of her neck stuck a chicken bone, bitten into sharpness.

Everyone gasped as they watched the woman die, Ivar watching the emotionless look on Skuld's face. The female looked at Lagertha, empty eyes meeting shocked ones. "I will rip you apart, limb by limb. All of you will die for what you die. Maybe not today or in a year. But your days are numbered. And when my mother returns, I will have enough skulls collected to serve them all mead in them."

She turned towards the crowds of people and pushed back her shoulders. "Your Queen, the usurper, took me captive and imprisoned me! She starved me and made me live in my own filth like an animal. All because she thought me a threat. I would have never raised a hand against anyone if she left me be! If she can do these horrible things to an innocent bystander..."

Skuld turned back to Lagertha and softened her look, looking like she might cry, but her eyes spoke vengeance. "What would she do to her people? Are the men and women too poor to pay the fines, too weak or old to fight? What will she do to those who don't please her? A prison cell or an execution?"

"You are not as innocent as you like to make people think. You just murdered the third shieldmaiden since my reign."

Skuld frowned and looked at the corpse. "Your shieldmaidens kidnapped me and locked me away like an animal. If you do that, you should expect the beast to bite back once it is free. The safest option... is to put it down and save yourself the impending doom. But I am human, not an animal."

Lagertha clenched her jaw as if she wanted to protest, but she held her tongue. Ivar and Skuld left the hall, the other two brothers following behind them. Skuld walked with her head held low, her shoulders hunched, and steps timidly. The more beat up she looks, the more sympathy she gains. And the easier Lagertha's downfall will be.

"Are you alright, Skuld?" Ubbe asked her watching the dirty girl walk.

"I will be. I could use a bath, food, and clothes."

The dress they put her in was a nice change against the itchy one she had before. But still, she felt unclean. She scrubbed her skin till it was red, blood trailing from some of her old wounds. Margrethe entered the room with a timid smile. The thrall was a free woman now and set to marry a Ragnarsson. Maybe she isn't as stupid as Skuld would like her to believe.

"Food will be ready soon. I just wanted to tell you... I am also sorry for what happened." Skuld smirked and looked at Margrethe's false look of pity.

"You are angry. I get that. After all, you very nearly beat for spreading rumors." 

"You made me spread them. You said it would save me from Ivar's rage, and instead, Aslaug got angry at me." The blonde ex-thrall glared at Skuld. Angry at the obvious betrayal. She felt like a puppet and couldn't believe she trusted Skuld at all. Someone of Skuld's social status would never be kind to a slave.

Skuld sighed and looked up at the wooden ceiling. "I did what I had to do.  You were in no danger, Margrethe. You were a puppet, true, but not a target. Aslaug would have scolded you, not beat you. That's more Lagertha's way, isn't it? She used you more than I did. Worse things."

"Sex slave." Margrethe spat out, annoyed, making Skuld wince. 

"Ah, yes. That bitch is long overdue, don't you think? When the time is ripe, she will fall. For you and for me."

"You want me to believe you are killing her for me?" 

The older blonde chuckled and watched Margrethe's doubtful look. She didn't believe one word Skuld said. Good. She had potential, after all. "Oh, not at all. You just benefit from my revenge. That doesn't mean you shouldn't support me, nonetheless. Free woman or not, take what you are given, Margrethe. Those who strive too high and have nothing to back it up with end up dead - forgotten, with an unmarked grave and no legacy left behind."

"Why all the advice?"

"I told you... We, strong women, should work together. That's the only way we might survive. Always one step ahead."

Margrethe frowned and shook her head. "Is that truly how you live? Always scheming and plotting, expecting betrayal from everyone? Then I truly pity you."

Skuld scoffed and pushed back her shoulders; she looked more terrifying like this. Like a queen about to execute her enemy. And if Margrethe continued to talk, she would become her enemy. "I don't need your pity. This is the world we live in. Where men can do what they want, and only the strong survive. Love, emotion, trust all means weakness in the end. Always expect a dagger in your back; that way, it won't surprise you when it comes. Call me crazy, but I survived. And when all of this is done. All those legendary men will be dead, and the only thing left behind is me. Queen Skuld. Wouldn't it be a nice fate?"

"For a slave to become a Queen? Yes, it would." Skuld smirked at Margrethe's ambition. The fool would die before she ever touched the crown.

"Then I wish you all the luck in the world, Queen Margrethe. After all, you are going to need it." She hunched forward and leveled the ex-slave with a glare. "Not leave. I am still not finished."

Margrethe slammed the door behind her, and the moment they closed, Skuld threw herself on the bed and burrowed herself on in the furs. The walls around her felt small, and the light kept irritating her eyes. Even the voices outside the room were getting on her nerves.

"Never took you for a killing type." Ivar'd voice commented from behind her as he crawled over to her from the door. 

"There are many things you don't know. For instance, right now, I don't want to be around people." The Ragnarsson chuckled and moved up on the bed to lie next to her. But instead of touching her like she thought he would, Ivar just laid there, watching her. 

"Sorry about your parents." She whispered, watching the anger and sadness on his face. 

"It wasn't your fault. We have something in common now, other than than the sex." 

Skuld scoffed at his words and rolled away from him to avoid his offended look. "A common enemy is not relationship material, Ivar. You romanticize it too much."

Ivar rolled his eyes and watched her breathing even out. The scratches on her arms looked terrible—some with newly dried blood on them. "How long were you in there?"

Skuld swallowed and turned on her back. If she looked at the wall for too long, it seemed as if it was inching towards her faster. Ivar's need to talk was driving her up the wall as well; she felt trapped all over again. "I don't know, since Lagertha attacked the village. I was walking, and some shieldmaiden kidnapped me. I killed two but was overpowered. I have no idea how long I spend in that hut."

She felt too vulnerable, admitting it to Ivar. Maybe if she showed some emotion, Ivar would get spooked and leave. Instead, he hummed and took her thin hand in his. "That was two months ago." 

The blonde sucked in a breath and froze. Two months in that hell hole, no wonder she went crazy. She was crazy,... Wasn't she? Only insane people can see walls moving and imagine enemies in every shadow. "Are you alright?"

Ivar's words went to deaf ears as her breathing picked up, her chest falling and rising in panic. Her blood rushing and heart-pounding drowned out his voice in her ears. Skuld clawed at her forearms again; a knock sounded from the door, Ubbe's worried voice asking if they are okay. 

It snapped her from her trance; she sprung from the bed and marched away, shouldering past the oldest Ragnarsson, his wife, and Sigurd. The door banged against the wall as she runs down the hill, needing to be as far away from people as possible. She stopped near a cliff and took in deep breaths to steel herself.

The voices in her head got louder, the pounding of her heart following every sentence like a war drum.

"You would have never been a hostage if you just didn't sleep with Ivar. Lagertha would have never noticed you if you didn't strive so high." 

"I am calling you a dangerous woman with love for violence and death..."

"Deranged whore."

"Glorified drunkard."

"What in Odin's name is wrong with you?! Why are you so weird?"

"What do you mean you don't know what empathy is? Have you never felt sorry for someone?"

"You are manipulating them. They are your puppets, not friends."

Skuld held her head in her hands, her hair tightly clenched between her fingers as her breathing grew harsher by the second. It felt like her heart would explode out of her chest any moment now and jump off the cliff...

She dropped her hands back to her side and closed her eyes. Pushing her shoulders back and holding her head higher did wonder to her look. The blonde now seemed more in control despite the ruffled hair and scratched arms. Her face was still a little bit red from her panic attack. She turned on her heel and marched away from the cliff. Not even ten steps away from the edge and Skuld turned around again.

"Why did you do that?"

"Mercy. It would die anyway. Why let it suffer?"

Why let me suffer? And so she spread her arms and let herself fall off the cliff. The freezing water surrounded her and made the world go dark.

[theratopia]

The P Word

Welcome back, Therapals,

Our subject for the week came to my attention while listening to the Patreon exclusive part of episode 183. Even though those who are not subscribed might be missing a little bit of context, I still think it's very important to discuss.

“Why do people say "grow some balls"? Balls are weak and sensitive. If you wanna be tough, grow a vagina. Those things can take a pounding.” - Betty White

Pardon my ignorance, but why the fuck is "pussy" used as a synonym for "coward" in English? I never really understood this concept, and I honestly think we need to start thinking about how the use of language can cause some unintended damage. I mean, the entire field of mental health deals with how words are spoken and interpreted to tackle several issues.

To me, it sounds like nails on a chalkboard when I hear otherwise inclusive and well-mannered men use the slang that happens to be a colloquial term for the vulva as a derogatory term in reference to another man they deemed inferior. The use of the word is objectively false. Correct me if I'm wrong, but no other part of the human body is able to naturally stretch itself up to 10 cm - almost 4 inches for you imperial heathens - to let out a brand new human being. So, please save the jokes about a big pussy being a bad thing because if it weren't, you could have choked on the way out. And speaking of size, we should also bury the stupidity that it is referring to a large pussy as something that got stretch from “a lot of use”, further shaming women for their pearls-clutching audacity of being sexually active or, the horror, becoming a mother. It sure does help a lot the myth of virginity and purity, guys, thanks. Or how a woman's worth is undeniably linked to her sexual history, which should be void. Check your calendars, it’s 2021.

Ignoring blunt reductionism for the sake of the argument, the pussy is actually amazing, very strong, and comes in all shapes, sizes and colors. The pussy has its own ecosystem that protects itself and the whole body, like a proper heroine. Unfortunately, the culture of hatred for everything considered feminine has worked for centuries to convince us that people who have pussies are dirty, impure, not worthy; they are less than human. Pussy, the biggest shame.

The conversation is also tricky because it’s hard not to alienate trans folks when talking about it. We tend to say "women" as a shorthand for people who were born with pussies, so I am sorry if sometimes sounds like I’m falling into the trap of gender conformity. But I guess this is another head of Hydra. Calling a man "pussy" as an insult is a great way to reinforce gender roles whilst making sure you let your internalized misogyny shine through. Ugh.

The pussy also features the ability to experience multiple orgasms as many times as possible. A true hard worker of human pleasure. In theory, the number of orgasms that a pussy can experience is infinite. It's not even that hard, you just need to know what you're doing. What they say about pussies taking longer to climax is but a myth perpetuated by people who didn't do their due diligence. Nerve endings to get stimulated and create massive amounts of pleasure are abundant - twice as many as nerve endings on penises. The pussy even supplies its own lubricant. You don't need an instructions manual, just a healthy measure of curiosity. Perhaps a bit of bravery, like every pussy is born with.

Since we are talking about levels of sensitivity, it is important to talk about pain. The pussy needs maintenance. Actual medical supervision. I could open a side note to discuss Brazilian waxing, but that is a completely optional, personal and merely aesthetic choice. No vaginally endowed person can escape the discomfort of invasive procedures that are needed on a very regular basis. We have no option and there is no effort at all devoted to trying to make them the least bit less distressing. I kid you not, the instrument still used for pussy care dates back to 1300 BC.

All of this to say that we need to let these gender-based insults die. Or at least not make the mistake of passing them on to the younger generation. No pussy owner should feel ashamed of their pussy. And penis equipped people should learn that they are equal, not better, not superior just because their genitals present differently.

To finish it off, the best feature of the word pussy is triggering conservative buffoons, like that guy who shall not be named but for some reason decided to make a fool of himself by shaking his fists at the sky against the gloriousness of a good moist box.

Triple hugs,

Mayor of Theratopia

[rhub4rb]

Project: Null

AO3

Chapter 1 - [Chapter 2]

It’s here! Expect slow updates though.

-_-_-_-

“This is your apartment Marinette,” Audrey said, unlocking and opening the door. “I know this is probably a bit drab, but you will have plenty of time to decorate it and make it your own.”

It really was a simple place at the moment, a two-bedroom apartment with a living room connected to the kitchen. The windows in the living room where an attest to who Marinette’s employer was however, with a wide city view.

“I’ve added some things in one of the bedrooms so that you can work from here if you want. You won’t be with me all the time,” Audrey reminded.

Breathing in, Marinette took her first step into her new home. Or, well, what she hoped would become her new home. She was still incredibly grateful that her parents let her do this, but she supposed that after everything Paris had gone through, sending her away from the city would make them feel safer.

The apartment was mostly bare, save for some furniture like a gray, fabric couch and a coffee table. There was a kitchen island that separated the living room from the kitchen that Marinette was unsure what she would do with, but she supposed she would look at that later.

“A week has been put off for you to settle in,” Audrey said from the doorway. “Take the time to get to know the area. If you need anything, contact me or my assistant, and I’ll call you if there are any change of plans.”

Marinette turned to look at Audrey, and she nodded in affirmative. A week felt like a generous amount of time to get settled, but after how Paris was almost completely destroyed only just a week ago… Marinette clenched her fist and forced her thoughts elsewhere.

“Well, I’ll see you in a weeks time,” Audrey started, clapping her hands and walking out the door. “Oh! And, Marinette, I know that all this may seem like a lot but you have a lot of promise, I’m sure that by the end of this apprenticeship that you’ll have finished a wonderful collection. Au revoir!” And just like that, she was gone, leaving Marinette alone in the mostly empty apartment.

As soon as the door closed, Tikki flew out of Marinette’s purse and looked around the living room.

“Everything is really changing, huh Tikki?” Marinette asked, not expecting a proper reply. She put down her backpack and opened it, revealing an intricate red and black box. The sight of it made Marinette frown.

“It’s gonna be okay Marinette. Tomorrow you’ll meet your new team, and you’ll be able to practice your new powers with proper supervision,” Tikki said optimistically, Marinette nodding along as she put the box on the coffee table.

Marinette had tried out her powers a little before the move to Star City, and she had a basic understanding of them now, but that was only when she was transformed. It seemed like transforming put a damper on her abilities, or locked away her access to the rest… whatever the rest were. It was weird, but Marinette felt comfortable fighting when she was transformed at least.

Touching her newfound powers now, when she was just herself… it felt too risky. Unstable. She needed a little more practice and soul searching before she would begin to mess with any of that. Not that whatever it was wouldn’t act out at times.

“It still feels weird though,” Marinette said, sitting down on the couch with a sigh. She had some clothes that she would need to unpack, but that could wait for a bit. “Especially the new team thing. It’s not like in Paris where the others just trusted me, these guys will know even less about me than the Miraculous team.”

Which was really saying something, considering that the Miraculous team was made up of her closest friends.

Her friends…

She hadn’t seen them since “Armageddon” as the public had taken to calling it. Marinette didn’t have the heart to face them before she left. Maybe she would one day, but for now, the memories were still too clear for her to look them in the eyes. Sure, they didn’t know she was the one who caused all of that chaos, but Marinette knew, and that was enough.

“I’m sure your new team will be nice Marinette. They’re heroes!”

“So was Chloe technically, and she caused a train wreck and almost managed to get Hawkmoth all of the miraculous,” Marinette argued.

Tikki just shook her head, “Your new team won’t be like Chloe.”

“We don’t know that,” Marinette said, checking the time and getting off the couch again. “For all we know, they might end up hating me!”

Marinette hoped they wouldn’t hate her, but her previous experience with meeting new people in a place that could turn competitive showed her that it was most likely the case. It was part of the reason why she didn’t want them to know anything about her life in Paris, particularly her being Ladybug. The Young Justice team was surveillance and supervised by the Justice League, and while she envied them for that, she doubted that they would see it the same way.

That would be another thing she would have to get used to. She was following other peoples rules now, not her own or that of the Order. That didn’t mean she had abandoned the Order though. If the Justice League were to give her a mission that went against what the Order stood for, Marinette would simply refuse to do it. She doubted that would make her all that popular with the rest of the team either.

“Alright Tikki,” Marinette said, clapping in an effort to cut Tikki off before she decided to argue further. Marinette didn’t want to continue the conversation, even if it was a rude way to end it. 

“Food first or unpacking first?”

It was a good distraction.

-

“Tomorrow, Abyss will be introduced to the rest of Young Justice,” Batman said, as the meeting with the Justice League began. “She arrived at Star City today.”

The atmosphere was oddly stifled at the Justice League meeting, but Batman wasn’t surprised. Everyone in the room found it uncomfortable to talk about Marinette or anything surrounding her, but with her joining the Young Justice team tomorrow, it was hardly an avoidable topic.

“Isn’t the day after arriving a bit soon? I mean, doesn’t she need to settle down first, get over jet-lag?” Green Arrow asked.

“She insisted on it herself, apparently her internship with Audrey Bourgeois starts after this week and she wants to meet the team before then,” Batman explained.

“But why the day after she arrived?” Wonder Woman questioned, to which Batman simply shook his head.

“She wouldn’t say.”

The meeting continued on, with reports and missions being delivered, though it got slightly more lighthearted after moving away from the topic of Marinette. The topic was like a weird black hole in the Justice League, with no one being truly willing to talk about it, but forced to acknowledge none the less.

“Wally asked about our disappearance again,” Flash suddenly added. “I told him that it was still classified information, but I can tell it’s starting to get on his nerves.”

It had been mutually agreed amongst the Justice League that they would wait with discussing the details of where they had gone until Marinette felt ready, which they could understand. Black Canary had already made a plan to speak with the girl about her shame and guilt regarding the situation.

“We won’t tell them anything until Marinette decides to. She’s their new teammate, she should have the chance to tell them herself,” Batman said with an air of finality.

None of them liked keeping something like this secret, especially because to them, it must just seem like their keeping something from them because they may not be ready yet, even if that wasn’t the case.

Still, they would respect Marinette’s decision. Being introduced as the girl who brought Armageddon upon the city of love was most likely not the first impression that she wanted to make.

-

The diner was a nice little place, a surprise find by Marinette as she walked down the streets in the search for dinner. She would begin to make her own dinner after she had unpacked and everything.

Marinette fiddled with her straw as she kept her eyes on the dark phone screen, on occasion picking up a french fry to munch on. She had messaged her parents to update them on how she was doing, that she had been to the apartment by now, that she was eating dinner.

It was somewhat lonely, now that she thought about it. Next time, she would take the food home with her, then she would at least be able to eat with the kwamis. Still, it wasn’t the worst thing in the world, so at least there was that. It could have been worse. At least she knew an akuma wouldn’t attack.

Marinette sighed, looking out of the window dejectedly. She would be able to get out her pent up energy soon though. Not doing anything was really starting to make her antsy. She wanted to run across the rooftops, though she didn’t know if the Justice League would let her do that now.

The thought made her frown. After having looked after a city all on her own with a partner, not doing that anymore felt… unnatural. Maybe she could get them to allow her to have a little more freedom than the others when it came to that. She wasn’t inexperienced like them, not that she didn’t think they were capable! It was just different, she supposed, though that was probably something that was better kept for herself, rather than something to be said out loud with the rest of them there.

Nervousness bubbled in the pit of her stomach, but she trampled in down before it could truly grow, more out of habit and reflex than anything else. Maybe it would be like starting at a new school or a new class. They would probably be the only other people her age that she would interact with for a while, so for them to get along would be a dream come true. Sadly, the only aspect of her that she let herself dream that way was designing, but that was because she had genuine success in that part of her life. Everything else could probably handle an improvement.

She let out another sigh as she went up to pay. No point in staying for longer than she needed to, and she still needed to feed the rest of the kwami and unpack.

The setting sun was a nice sight to see though, and Marinette felt the tension in her shoulders slowly seep out as she took a deep breath, letting the little warmth of the sun rays kiss her skin as she walked towards her apartment, towards what she hoped would become her new home, if everything went right.

Things rarely did go right though, didn’t they? 

 -_-_-_-

@skyel0ve 

[himbo-buckley]

Intimacy, Sex and Buddie (better known as I have a lot of feelings about this show, some of which are related to the before mentioned topics)

I should preface this by saying this meta was supposed to be a lot shorter and only talk about how both Buck and Eddie use sex to distract their respective partners from whatever topic they actually wanted to talk about but since I decided to rewatch the show to make sure I don’t miss any such scenes, it has exploded a bit and taken on more topics

I should also preface this by saying that the whole of the 118 has some obvious intimacy / commitment issues except Bobby (which is sort of surprising) but *John Mulaney voice* we don’t have time to unpack all of that!

On another note I cuss a little in this Meta because my parents let me listen to TicTacToe as a small child and after that it never stuck that cussing is wrong so, uhm, parental supervision is advised or something?

This Meta will so far have three parts, one for each season and is organised by episode so you could technically follow along

Without further ado I present: Intimacy, Sex and the Buddie of it all, Season 1: (Better known as “Not a Sex Addict”)

Episode 1.01:

Buck, we meet first in the pilot and one of the first things we learn about him? That boy fucks! Like literally his second scene is him having sex in the firetruck, which in the episode is presented to us as his way of dealing with the stress of firefighting (it cuts from Bobby’s confession scene saying some firefighters are sex addicts to Buck racing the Brunette). Then later in this episode, between saving a baby, getting in a fight with Athena and not knowing who Rambo is, he fucks the snake horder and get’s himself fired for his trouble. He also tells Bobby he is a sex addict here.

Now you could easily read both those scenes as proving Buck’s statement or you can read it as him justifying his actions, which I think is what Bobby did, or you can fall in love with the cocky bastard and think there is more to it, which is obviously what I did. And also what I think this show wants you to do? Because in the same scene Buck gives the first of his many heartbreaking speeches about having nothing else besides being a firefighter and how that is the best part of him (or whatever, I’m combining the speeches, I didn’t rewatch that scene because it gives me too much second hand embaressment)

And let’s look at this statement and what we know about Buck by fast forwarding a bit, okay? Because we know virtually nothing about who Buck was prior to the Pilot. We know he spent a summer in South America as a bartender, we know he tried out for the Seals about a year ago and we know he’s been a firefighter for 3 months (meaning the first season is his probationary time the same way Season 2 is Eddie’s), so depending on how long firefighter training takes he probably has lived in LA for less than a year, meaning he probably hasn’t made too many meaningful connections yet and the 118 are really the closest thing to family he has there (a fact that if you fast forward again is sort of proven in canon if - if we take every word as being word of god - by Maddie saying „If our parents call“ in 2.01, implying Buck is probably not close to them) (he also tells Maddie „It was getting pretty lonely here“ in 2.01, so you know, point proven?)

Now I don’t think Buck is a sex addict after all. Yes, he is using sex to unwind (and good for him, at least he isn’t drinking or taking drugs, Bobby), but he is also using it to substitute actual intimacy, because that boy is fucking lonely.

Just look at the scene with the brunette, alright? After the act he asks her: „So can I have your actual number?“ and she says no, and he does this whole macho spiel about „the golden times“ or whatever, but come on, we know this is bull, right? Look at how earnest he looks when he asks! (and here I have to applaud 911 again, because the show only has one young conventionally attractive character at this point and instead of his character just being badass ladies man, but he is held accountable for his actions and the show went out of its way to point out how problematic his behaviour was, so kudos! I love you!)

Episode 1.02:

In this episode Buck loses two people and is understandably distraught. And Bobby comes to him in the locker room, to, as Buck thinks, express his disappointment, which is what Buck thinks he deserves, except Bobby is in full Dad-mode and just wants Buck to talk about it. Which Buck does almost imediately leading to us learning about the Seals and that our Buck has so many emotions and knows it and likes it (again, shoutout to the writers for having their young attractive Macho-dude cry in episode two! Ya’ll the real ones).

Now Bobby clearly didn’t see this coming and is like „Uhm, how about we talk to a professional about all that, I have my own shit, kiddo“ and then we get our first therapist scenes and look, while I do see where people are coming from, I do not consider this rape. I do however think it was a badly thought through scene and also an abuse of power and Autumn Reeser should not be allowed to work as a therapist again. The way this scene is shot and cut however makes it seem like Buck came onto her and did not regret what happened, so you know as the german saying goes: where there is no complaint there is no judge. (which does not mean I condone what happened, but, tbh, this is one of those scene where I feel the writers just did not think the implications through. Someone with a twitter go ask Tim Minear about it)

Anyways, let’s talk about everything before the sex because I think this is what’s relevant:

The scene begins with the therapist asking Buck if he is uncomfortable, he seems that way (and kudos to Oliver Stark for the way he acts this scene because we can truly feel everything Buck feels) and Buck saying his „I’m not really into feelings. I mean yeah feeling them, just not talking about them.“ after which the therapist throws some things at Buck to see what sticks (which is something therapists sometimes do in early sessions, just try to gauge a reaction, see where the no no - zones are, especially with people like Buck who are quote „not scared“. Like, he is so walled up already.)

And now comes the part that I’ll give you word for word, because this is what matters in this scene, okay?

T: „You lost somebody, that’s hard“

B: „Yeah but we lose people. At least that’s what everybody keeps telling me.“

T: „Was this your first time?“

B: „Well, I’ve had calls where it’s been to late but I’ve only been doing this not even 6 months. Now I just can’t shake the feeling that this one didn’t need to go down the way it did.“ (up until the second part Buck sits tall, then he leans forward, his voice becomes urgent, THIS is the important message)

T: “So do you think there is something you could have done differently?“

(close up to Bucks face looking distraught, ding ding, we have a winner!)

After this they cut away to Athena and when we come back Buck is crying and the therapist tries to explain why the guy might have died and then walks toward Buck and tells him how they’re actually here to talk about him and then Buck deflects, he tells her to call him Buck, they talk about facebook, scene change, they come back after Sex, Buck is all better. 

(Slightly unrelated sidenote at this point we have seen Buck have sex 3 times and every single time it’s sitting on some chair with the girl on top, uhm, what’s up with that? (He’s a bottom))

But I truly think the important part is what I’ve highlighted, this is where she hit a nerve and sure, he let her finish and listened and cried, but Buck’s a multitasker, he was just waiting for his opening - which the therapist gave to him by sitting down across from him and touching him, so now Buck turns the tables on her and makes her uncomfortable - or: she struck a nerve and he deflects, so instead of the emotional vulnerability she wants from him, he gives her physical intimacy, probably aware that this way he will not have to come see her again (because isn’t that what all women do? Hi, Brunette from Episode 1). 

And then the episode ends on the very relevant conversation were Abby asks him out and Buck says no because HE REALISED HE HAS SOME ISSUES WITH WOMEN AND INTIMACY!!! I love this show so much, you guys! Buck tells Abby he can’t go out with her because they’ll definitly have sex and he tells her about the therapist and Abby is all you wish and he tells her how much he likes her and how he has no one else in his life that make him feel good and it’s all cute and dorky and yes, sometimes I do find myself shipping them. A little.

Episode 1.03 has nothing of relevance as far as I recall so we ignore it.

Episode 1.04:

... also not that relevant except that little scene at the end that I thought was in Episode 5 titled: The moment I fell in love with this show! When Bobby says „help“ it gets me every time! I keep expecting him to not answer but he asks for help and I gasp. Every. Damn. Time.

Episode 1.05 

... is when it get’s really interesting because this is when the Sex addict meets the women he has been emotionally intimate, which is, you know, the thing he’s sensitive about!

I really like how Buck is all in Protector-Mode and seems so competent up until when they’re in the car together and Abby starts to talk about them (him) not having wanted to meet and it hit’s him that uuups, this is the actual woman he has been talking to! A human being (and not just some voice on the phone he talks to) and an attractive one as it is (and boy do I love how dressed down Connie Brighton is most of the time? Look, she’s pretty and she’s not 25 and she looks it and that’s okay!) so again Buck deflects by making the whole exchange about Sex - you know, physical intimacy because he is scared of emotional intimacy. Which is what I have been trying to prove here.

Then they save that little girl and have the very sweet moment in the car were Buck is very vulnerable, though I think it’s mostly for Abby’s benefit? Because Buck is in protector mode and there is nothing Buck wouldn’t do to help someone else, even flay himself open. He’s just selfless like that.

And then they find Patricia and bring her home and he is very uncomfortable and then he says goodbye all sweet and Patricia tells him to be kind to Abby and Buck is already in so deep, so really someone should have taken the time to tell Abby to be kind and nice to this boy (if Buck gets another love interest I want someone to give them the shovel talk, mainly Hen or Eddie, possibly together, because this boy gives away too much of himself and it hurts me), but alas no one did, so Buck tries to protect himself by, you guessed it, talking about sex! 

It really is a defense mechanism for him, which might prove that he came from a conservative background or might just not mean anything, besides that he is very comfortable with Sex and other people are not which is why he uses it to deflect. People generally don’t try to look to deep if you make them uncomfortable, which is generally Buck’s way of dealing with problems: he either pushes back and steamrolls over it or is it too loud and open about something, which keeps people from looking to deep (Season 3 is proof of that, the only person who sees through his act, I think, is Hen because she also uses false bravedo to deal with things. Eddie sees it too, but only after Buck explains it to him, because Eddie operates completely different - but that’s something I’ll talk more about later)

And then all of Bucks fears of people not liking him after seeing what’s underneath are proven right when, after spending a whole day with him, Abby tells him they shouldn’t see each other again because she too likes him and if they continue mistakes will be made (which is just her respecting Bucks wishes from 1.02 but also proves to Buck that no one can like him on a deeper level). She gives this very sweet speech about how good he makes her feel but if you look at Buck’s face it’s just sooo closed off. And then she does this very mean thing with the „do not fuck some tinder-girl“, which i find very hypocrit of her, because she basically told Buck she won’t give him more than what they currently have but also he’s not allowed to look somewhere else for it (although she is very right, Buck needs to learn to find validation in himself and not through other people, which is something he sorta did in Season 3? More on this later)

Which is why we get the phone sex scene at the end. Because at this point Buck has been emotionally intimate with this women and then he met her and he kept being emotionally intimate with him and she basically rejected him so Buck made it about physical intimacy. He rejected her back. Found a loophole. Pushed back.

And I know I’m ignoring the scene in between when he is all proud about not having sex with Abby, but yeah, he would have had if Abby let him so it doesn’t really count.

Side note: this whole Episode proves that Buck is not a sex addict - if he were we would have seen him maybe try and convince Abby or seen a scene of him struggeling with whether he should pick up another girl or something, but they didn’t. Nope, they gave up „Buck with Hen and Bobby - bonding time“.

Episode 1.06:

I dislike this one a lot because it calls the episode before a liar by having Abby go on a date with Buck, after saying they shouldn’t meet each other again. I actually checked IMDB to see if there was a christmas break between those episodes, but nope, they aired a week apart! (Also how everyone pushes Buck into doing Valentine’s day even though he doesn’t like it? Yeah, not on board.)

But you know what’s relevant af about this Episode? The scene between Bobby and Buck where Dad helps his son get ready. I truly think this scene, combined with his firing in 1.01 is what caused the shift into Buck 2.0.

Also canon yet again tells us that Buck is not in fact a sex addict but rather using sex to avoid real intimacy and then they have this bantery conversation about not being a dick by having sex on the first date and being a gentleman and I love how Peter and Oliver play off of each other here. This scene is so much fun to watch because they clearly had so much fun acting it.

We can basically jump over the rest of the episode, but I do want you to look at the scene between Bobby and Abby in the hospital for a moment because I 100% thought they were setting up a love triangle here? (Again, someone with Twitter ask Tim Minear)

Episode 1.07:

The actual time jump according to IMDB happens between those episodes (someone who watched Season 1 live please confirm) although in the story there isn’t - they just decided to air the Valentine’s episode in November and then come back in February to talk about the full moon - apparently.

Aside from that Buck is such an adorable dork in this episode which i truly think is why half this fandom is in love with him and some more scenes with Peter and Oliver that are just plain fun happen (and I love season 3 but I miss how much fun they got to have in Season 1). Also our first real bi!Buck sighting and the implication that Buck went from delivering Babys to delivering a tapeworm, only to go: I’m gonna have sex with my girlfriend now! And I honestly love him for that.

Other than that, not much to prove or disprove this meta except Buck being hesitant to go on another date and trying to explain away why he came to see Abby but her just cutting right through his bullshit.

Episode 1.08: not relevant

Episode 1.09:

Our second instance of Buck nearly dying. Buck’s „I don’t suppose you do a lot of pull ups“ kills me every time and Hen freaks out about it a little and he just loves it off. He is a true badass.

Also there is the Ballon scene which makes me mad, because Buck has every right to be upset about everything, even if none of it is Abby’s fault. I’m really up in the air about how I feel about the Bobby and Buck talk in the locker room because on the one hand side I do agree with everything Captain Dad says and I think this scene also is part of creating Buck 2.0 but on the other hand side he is kind of invalidating Buck’s feelings?

Anyways, Bobby tells him, that if Buck really likes Abby he needs to stop trying to feel like she needs saving and let her set the pace. I’m not saying it’s why Buck waited around so long for her in Season 2 but I do think Bobby basically telling him this is what a real man would do - the thing Buck wants so badly to be - plays a role. It’s too bad that while Buck is all in, Abby is not.

I’m also gonna put my clown shoes on real quick and say we get a nearly identical scene in 2.10, when Buck talks to Chimney about Eddie and Shannon. Make of that what you want.

Episode 1.10:

Buck identifies with the guy using him to cat fish girls because he understands his need for connection and intimacy. After all he did the same thing, just a different method.

Also Abby leaves.

There’s not more to say

So this is where Season 1 ends, with Buck aware that he was trying to substitute physical for emotional intimacy and trying to correct it and build a life with Abby - which did not work because Abby left.

But I just wanna mention real quick how much character development Buck has in such a short amount of time! It floors me every time. And while we all know he attributes this to Abby, it’s really just about Buck being Buck and he was already on his way to becoming this guy, simply because through his job and the firefam suddenly he got validation? I feel so proud. I really only wish Buck would finally come to this realisation himself or maybe someone would tell him this. He deserves it.

[brokenjardaantech]

Blue-tinted Red Walls (Prologue: A mistake or accidental prophet?)

my entry for the 2020 @dbhau-bigbang. also part of the groom lake aftermath series

pairings: hankcon, minor male ryder/reyes vidal

major warning: canon-typical violence

additional warnings will be provided before individual chapters.

summary:

In 2028, rumours emerged that Sara Ryder, inventor of androids and co-founder of Cyberlife, disagreed with her father Alec Ryder, another co-founder of the company, over the direction the company was heading. Speculations were rendered pointless as the younger Ryder disappeared off the grid after thousands were killed in an explosion outside Detroit, the site which later became a dumping ground for abandoned or damaged androids. A few days after Alec took over CyberLife, reports of androids breaking away from their programming started to emerge, and for a decade, it was CyberLife's best-kept secret.

In 2038, Connor, an RK-series prototype, began development under Ryder's supervision and was released in August in the same year as Cyberlife's last resort towards the deviancy crisis. Rumours among CyberLife employees put someone else as the lead of the RK800/900 project, and although the company goes through extensive measures to dispel the rumour, it somehow manages to reach the Detroit Police Department. It is with this rumour in mind that Lieutenant Hank Anderson is partnered with the same android in question.

Little do they know that the revolution brewing on the horizon is just the beginning.

also on ao3

---

Before

A gloomy figure left shadows in their wake as they swept through the brightly-lit corridor of a hospital, the click of combat boots against smooth floor clearly audible as the voices in the hall died down. Most only noted the person’s threatening posture and boiling expression and bolted out of their way fearing consequences; little did they know that had they paused to take a better look, they would have noticed how young they were - too young to be wearing such hatred on their face. 

They stopped abruptly in front of a door with a sharp snap of their feet, and their hand shot out of their pocket towards the knob but froze with the sharp yell of a nurse. A roll of their eyes. Turned to face the nurse.

‘Visitors are limited to family members only,’ the nurse explained as she closed the last bit of distance between them. Then it clicked. ‘You didn’t register at the front desk?’

‘My brother has been asking for me for days. Ask the front desk. I gave them my name.’

A slight flinch from the harsh tone. ‘I’m sorry, but I still need to confirm your identity. It’s for the patient’s protection.’

The figure huffed. From the smirk on their face, it might have been a silent laugh. They reached into their coat with their teeth grinding. ‘Your ID?’

The nurse looked taken aback. ‘I believe you should be the one presenting identification.’

‘Like you said, “it’s for the patient’s protection”,’ they parroted. ‘How can I be certain that you are an actual nurse but not another spy sent by someone who will bring him harm?’

A pause. The nurse looked away for a second as if to think of the best course of action, but this split second is enough for the person to twist the knob and slide into the ward, the slam of something against the wall indicated that they somehow managed to also barricade it from the inside. The nurse banged her fist on the door in a futile effort of protest before dashing away to get backup.

Inside the room was another atmosphere in its entirety, however, and would have been peaceful if not for the muffled hustle and bustle from the hallway. The blinds were pulled down, the lights were dimmed, the monitor was muted; everything to guarantee that the boy lying on the bed slept undisturbed. He was wearing a green beanie even in his sleep, and next to his head was a small stuffed toy which was rubbed against and clutched when he opened his eyes.

‘Sister?’ he asked the person who had broken into his room. 

The sister sat down on the edge of the bed and placed a hand on her brother’s cheek. All the anger on her face was gone. ‘I’m here, brother,’ she said. Her thumb swiped against the bottom of his eye and came back wet. ‘I bought us a few minutes to talk.’

Her brother’s face scrunched up. ‘I’m sorry,’ tears started flowing freely down his face and into the pillow and the stuffed toy. ‘I didn’t mean to -’

‘The fault does not lie on you,’ she took out a handkerchief and dabbed his face. ‘It was a reckless move, but I doubt you have another choice.’

‘I -’ a hitch in his breath. ‘I don’t want to go.’

‘I know. I am here to take you away.’

‘You can’t. Baba is -’

‘If you think I care about what he thinks, you are sorely mistaken,’ she stood. ‘Is there anything you want to bring with you from the apartment?’

The brother hesitated. ‘Can I show you later?’

His sister’s face turned blank. ‘Of course,’ she said in a lacklustre tone. It was obvious that she did not want to do so. ‘I need to take care of something. Will be right back.’

‘Okay.’

She turned around and closed her eyes. A deep breath. Glowing wisps of blue emerges from her spine, then from her head, then finally from all over her body, and her eyes were swathed in the same blue glow when she reopened them. She raised her hand. 

A blue sphere appeared in front of the desk barricading the door and knocked it away.

The same nurse from before entered. ‘You could’ve told me that you’re here to discharge your brother!’ she said accusingly. ‘There was no need for that hostility. And you shouldn’t even be -’

She was interrupted by the sister shoving a stack of paper towards her chest.

‘Then shut the fuck up and do your damned job.’

oOoOo

Now

Androids have always unnerved Captain Louis ‘Lou’ Allen, but for a very different reason people normally expect. For years after their mass production, he could feel an unexplained buzzing in his nerves, one that, throughout his limited childhood, he had learnt to associate with ‘shit randomly exploding around him’. Now that Anna’s… gone to space, there was no one else in the world to vouch for him, telling him that yes, his feelings are valid, and that he isn’t imagining the hum coursing through his body whenever an android comes close.

Not anymore, though. Ever since he became half-bot and perhaps half-immortal, not once has the buzz returned, which was more of an inconvenience than anything; before, he could predict whether shit was about to go downhill and be responsible and warn people, but now, there was never enough time to vacate a room before, say, the screen of a monitor cracks on its own and shatters into thousands of pieces.

The negotiator CyberLife sends almost brings back the unpleasant buzz. This android - RK800, if its - his? - jacket is to be believed - is too harmless-looking for a model designed to hunt and kill other androids who break away from their programming and the most advanced prototype CyberLife has to offer. His voice is pleasant enough, but that only makes Lou’s spine tingle and threaten to charge the air with static; a sign he has learnt to watch for before an outburst. He hides a deep inhale, listens to the android’s - Connor’s - question, and faces him when he realises that Connor won’t go away anytime soon unless he actively does something.

‘Listen, saving that girl is all that matters,’ he tells the android. The twitch of his face only slips the situation into a whole new level of uncanny valley. Since when did CyberLife allow so much life on their androids? ‘So either you deal with this fucking android now, or I’ll take care of it.’

And it’s so typical CyberLife, isn’t it? Lou thinks as he grabs his rifle and kneels behind a toppled, bullet-ridden table his team has been using for cover. There’s a girl’s life at stake, and there they are, thinking that this is a prime time to test their newest prototype as if actual human lives are merely tools they can use whenever, whatever, however. Just like my own, he thinks bitterly as the place where human flesh meets pure cybernetics aches from hunching over the desk for too long. Scrap that, cybernetics were weaved into his very muscles and nerves and changed him fundamentally, and CyberLife didn’t let him know until years after the operation. It wasn’t even someone within the company -

So anyways. Fuck CyberLife. Fuck their monopoly on the android market. Fuck them for playing god.

But orders are orders and Allen received explicit ones telling him to not interfere unless the android looks like he’s gonna fuck up, so he doesn’t have much choice but to piece everything together through comm chatter and the images from the drones flying over the patio. Whoever is in charge of creating this android, he sure as fuck hopes that they made him knowing what he’s doing.

o0o0o     

A few hours later in the relative safety of his office, Lou reads over the report compiled by his people. One of the men shot down by the deviant is, thankfully, alive and recovering, but the other had drowned in the swimming pool long before they were able to do anything. He told the others to go home first, giving them enough time to digest what the fuck just happened in the penthouse, but stayed in the precinct himself just to - just to go home with everything settled. Leaving a job unfinished always makes him anxious and unable to relax at home, especially when people die under his watch, and the numb calmness of the recipient of the call - the man’s fiancé, if Lou remembers correctly - chased away what remaining sleep he is going to have for the night. 

And the face. The person who came to collect Connor’s bullet-riddled body. The flickering skin above black metallic plates brushing against his armoured thigh where his cybernetics acted up from his little magic stunt. He never thought he would see them again, but well - he’s not a prophet, no fucking he is not. No more sleep for him tonight.

That is when he notices a line near the end of the report. Android took Officer Antony Deckart’s service weapon and violated P.L. 544-7 American Androids Act. Request to tighten programming to prevent further incidents, it writes, and it makes him think of the other house he has that he’s been letting… people use as a safehouse. Switching tabs, he examines the footage from the hostage situation once more. Connor had, indeed, taken the gun and even admitted to it when questioned by the deviant, but it only served to gain its trust when he threw it away. He broke protocol only to accomplish his mission, and in the end no one was harmed except for the deviant who had killed two officers. And Connor himself.

It is a tricky scenario, yes, but Lou can do tricky. Connor was just doing what he was supposed to, right?

He highlights the segment and deletes it. He deletes the previous versions of the file as well just in case CyberLife are thorough bastards, and whoever made him, Connor seemed… like an asset. Lou would hate to see all the effort go to waste.

I better not regret this.

o0o0o

As much as Lou wants to stay in bed and sleep with a cat on his chest, debriefing is still something he must do, so the next morning he finds himself facing a bunch of rebellious SWAT members who are too curious about the negotiator they didn’t manage to properly meet yesterday night. 

‘That was his trial. Nothing more, nothing less. The android proved himself to be useful under situations like this. That’s all I need to say,’ he repeats for the umpteenth time. ‘I don’t think we’ll have any more missions with him, so stop asking questions. You won’t need them anyway.’

‘It was plastered all over the news, Captain,’ the newest addition to the team - Shum - says. ‘It’s CyberLife’s newest prototype created by Ryder himself. You can’t fault us for wanting to know more.’

Jim smacks her on the back of her head. ‘Led by Ryder, yes, but you can’t build an android like that alone, Shum.’

Not with the current staff CyberLife has, Lou says to himself. But he saw her. He knows. ‘Alec Ryder isn’t capable of this shit.’

‘Who else can it be, then?’ someone else - Nelson, if he remembers correctly - asks. 

‘I don’t know.’ How can they have such short-term memories? ‘There’s one other Ryder on the table and she’s supposed to be dead.’

‘Wait, you mean Sara Ryder? As in the guy who got kicked out ten years ago?’

Lou gives them his best ‘who else can it be?’ look, and it is what successfully shuts everyone up. 

What game are you playing this time, Ryder?

[frozenartscapes]

@patricia-von-arundel Funny we got talking about Rhea and Millie because I had this in the works for a few days before that. Now I want to do one for the two of them.

---

Edelgard and Flayn didn’t get along too well at first. But Byleth wanted it. So they both begrudgingly agreed to tolerate each other. Edelgard was wary about where Flayn’s alliances lie, and who Flayn is. Flayn had learned more about Edelgard’s motivations, but she’s still not sure if she can forgive the forcefulness in which the Emperor overthrew the Church. But they both love Byleth, and Byleth wants them to get along.

And then a small, fragile brown-haired girl appeared in the Emperor’s life and something changed.

Flayn watched from a distance as the fearsome Emperor of Fodlan laughed and played with her little girl, a broad smile on her face and lilac eyes as warm as the sun. It was a far cry from the cold, merciless war machine she once was. Rather than swinging that monstrous axe around she was hoisting her precious girl high above her head, giggling just as much as the child did. It reminded Flayn of someone she knew, once. Someone she had lost, but tried to remember always.

It turned out Millie liked fishing. Byleth had introduced it to her, and it became one of her favourite non-weapon-based pastimes. It was calming, and Millie would enjoy the peace after a day of training. She also enjoyed learning about the fish, not just catching them. Sometimes she’d even bring a sketchbook down to the river and draw her catches, recording their size and colour for added measure.

It came as a surprise one day when, as Flayn headed down to the river to do some fishing of her own, she heard the sound of happy giggling behind her. She turned to spot Millie racing toward her, fishing pole in tow. With Edelgard.

“Are you going fishing, too, Aunty Flayn?” Millie asked as she skidded to match Flayn’s slower pace.

“I am,” Flayn replied, eyeing Edelgard warily, “Erm… Where is Byleth? Doesn’t she normally go fishing with you?”

“Normally she would,” Edelgard answered, her voice level and neutral, “But Byleth has been called out of town on an unexpected mission. She should be back in a few days, but-”

“But we’re gonna miss the silver-scaled lacefins! They only show up in the rivers around Enbarr twice a year!” Millie interrupted, her voice taking on a desperate edge.

“Ooh! That sounds interesting! I don’t know if I’ve ever seen a fish like that,” Flayn gasped, clasping her hands together in joy at the thought of such a wondrous creature.

“Well, come on! I’ll show you!” Millie cried excitedly, grabbing one of Flayn’s hands and pulling her along.

“Oh! I… Um…” Flayn shot a glance back at Edelgard. She was more than aware that the Emperor was more protective of Millie than a dragon is with its treasure, and she certainly didn’t want to get caught up in anything.

But Edelgard merely smiled and held up a book she had brought with her to keep busy. “You two go ahead,” she said warmly, “I’ll be under that tree if you need me.”

Flayn blinked in surprise. Her mind tried to process what just happened, but Millie tugged on her hand again and before she knew it Flayn was supervising the Emperor’s daughter on the banks of the river. Granted, Edelgard was still within sight, but for once Flayn was the responsible adult in this situation.

If only Seteth could see her now!

Millie had a knack for fishing. For someone with so much energy, she sure could sit still and patient for a long time. She was also gentle. She wasn’t looking to catch fish for food, rather to observe. So once she pulled them from the water she would ever so carefully remove the hook from their mouths and hold them just long enough to get a quick sketch, before gently depositing them back in the river.

“Mama told me we have plenty of fish to eat back at the palace,” she said once, “So there’s no need to needlessly hurt these guys. Even if some of them are pretty tasty.”

“Doesn’t your Mom still fish for food?” Flayn asked with a confused frown.

“Shh! Mama doesn’t know about that!”

The pair remained on the end of the dock on the riverbank for some time, long enough for the blue sky to turn golden in hue. Between the two of them, they had caught quite a number of fish. Including the elusive silver-scaled one Millie had so desperately wanted to see.

“Thank you for fishing with me, Aunty Flayn,” Millie said with a large smile, the gap in her teeth making it extra goofy.

“You are very welcome, Millie,” Flayn replied with a laugh, “Though, I hope I wasn’t getting in the way of any bonding between you and your mother.”

“Mama doesn’t really care for fishing,” Millie said with a shrug.

“She doesn’t like fish?”

“She doesn’t like water.” Millie leaned in closer, beckoning for Flayn to do the same. Then she whispered: “She can’t swim.”

“Ahhh. I see,” Flayn sighed, maintaining the illusion of secrecy. Though she really hadn’t known that. To think…the whole war could have been stopped before it began if someone had just pushed Edelgard into the monastery pond…

Footsteps on the wooden dock caught their attention, and they turned to spot the Emperor stretching out her limbs after spending the afternoon seated under a tree. Flayn noted how, despite it being a fairly short dock that didn’t go too far into the river, Edelgard still only had taken about two steps onto it.

“And what might you two be scheming about?” she asked, a sly smile on her face.

“Nothing, Mama,” Millie said innocently.

“Did you see your fish, my little love?”

“I did!” Millie held up her sketchbook triumphantly. “I got lots of good drawings! See!”

“Beautiful, Millie!” Edelgard praised. There was something about the way her smile reached her eyes, the way her voice filled with love and pride that made Flayn’s heart squeeze. “You’ll have to show your mother your drawings when she gets back.”

Millie nodded eagerly. “Aunty Flayn helped me colour this one!” she added proudly, pointing to an illustration that had detailed shading on it.

“You should thank your Aunt for all her help today.” Flayn wasn’t sure what got her more: the fact that Edelgard referred to her as Millie’s aunt or just how motherly her tone was.

She was brought out of her head by a pair of small arms flinging around her waist. “Thank you, Aunty Flayn!” Millie cried happily, squeezing her “aunt” tight.

“Oh! You’re very welcome, Millie,” Flayn replied, hugging back for good measure.

“Now, as much as I hate to break up the fun, we had best return to the palace,” Edelgard said with a sigh, “It’s getting close to dinnertime and I worry that if we’re not back soon Hubert might send out a search party.”

Millie pouted slightly, but began collecting her things without any protest. “Are you gonna come back with us, Aunty Flayn?” she asked earnestly as she stood up.

“Oh… I…” Flayn eyed Edelgard anxiously, who in return was no help in directing her toward a good choice. “I suppose I can head back in that direction. I have to go that way to get home, anyway,” she replied.

That was much to Millie’s delight, and it wasn’t long before the three of them were heading back toward Embarr’s town centre and the main road to the palace. Flayn was heading a little out of her way from her cottage just outside of town, but she was enjoying the company. Millie was ahead of them by a few paces, every so often darting off the path to collect a flower to present to her mother or aunt, depending on who she thought would appreciate it better.

“I have to thank you,” Edelgard said softly, breaking the silence that had been between them since they left the river, “She really was looking forward to that fishing trip and when Byleth got called away… Well, I was not.”

“I suppose it was good fortune that our paths crossed,” Flayn replied, her voice a little stiff from nerves. Edelgard was as impossible as ever to read, and she didn’t want to make the walk awkward.

Still, Edelgard tipped her head slightly in thought, bringing one hand up to her chin as an amused smile graced her lips. “Perhaps it was good for our paths to cross as they did,” she mused.

Flayn raised an eyebrow in confusion, but before she could ask anything, Edelgard continued: “I would understand if you decline, and I wouldn’t want to interfere with any other plans you might have had tonight, but… How would you like to join us for dinner at the palace?”

“R…really? I wouldn’t want to impose!” Flayn gasped, never expecting such an invite from her of all people.

Edelgard nodded toward Millie, who was up ahead, watching a butterfly landing on a carnation. “It would mean a lot to Millie. She adores spending time with you,” she said, the love for her daughter written all over the voice and face. She paused, and she pulled her gaze away to meet Flayn’s eyes. “And… I feel as though we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot. I’d…I’d like to start trying to make amends. And…get to know you. If that’s all right with you.”

“I…I would love that, Edelgard!” Flayn said, still hesitant but feeling a smile growing on her face.

Edelgard returned with a smile of her own, one pure and warm that the stoic Emperor seemed to reserve only for those she cared most about. It would seem that Flayn had made that list.

“Good. And you are more than welcome to join us again, whenever you like,” Edelgard told her.

“As long as I don’t have to cook anything,” Flayn said with a laugh, “I am afraid I couldn’t cook a good meal to save my life!”

Edelgard chuckled in response. “I understand. I myself am no longer allowed in the kitchens after the last time I tried to surprise Byleth with a meal.”

“Was it really that bad?”

“Well… The food might have been fine but sadly one of the kitchen prep tables didn’t survive after I attempted to chop carrots…with an axe.”

Flayn burst out in laughter, unable to contain herself at the mental image. “So we’re both not allowed in kitchens! It would seem we have more in common than I first thought,” she said with a happy sigh.

“Indeed,” Edelgard agreed, “And I look forward to learning more.”

“Me too.” Flayn met the Emperor’s gaze with a warm smile. “Me too.”

[spacemilkies]

serendipity || captain allen x reader

for @thedevianthunterrk800 who unknowingly dragged me into the pits of hell dau. now i can’t play or watch footage without focusing in on this man. 

“I’m sorry, ma’am but no press are allowed on the premise without strict permission.”

The accusation nearly stuns you at first, before you realize in fact that you never quite shed your work clothing before venturing out. Not that it did much good now that you were caught red handed, you plucked your badge from you neck and offered a placating smile to the receptionist android.

“Sorry, I’m here on personal business not journalistic ventures.” As if to prove your point, you rose the hand clutching the bag of take out. “Just a wife bringing dinner to her husband.”

The android was quiet, her gaze giving you another look over. No doubt cross referencing your heart rate to your words. Perhaps had your husband not been employed at such a high risk job, a simple face recognition scan could have cleared you. But it seemed not even matrimony came with any real civil benefits. 

The android completed its assessment.

“I see. Please-”

“Hey, what are you doing here so late?”

A visible shudder of relief ripped across your skin as you whipped around. Appearing to be finishing up for the evening, Hank was looked about what you expected him to look first thing in the morning- ready to go home.

It’s easy to offer a smile in disguise of pity. “Figured if he wasn't going to make an effort for dinner, I could at least keep him from starving.”

“Yeah, is that why he’s so cranky? Missing one too many meals?”

Hank’s years of ‘facility’ comradery with your husband managed to bleed into a promising friendship of your own. It was a specific type of working relationship that only your hardened husband could achieve. Frankly most of his more social interactions were bridged by your efforts in some way or fashion. 

“Trying to keep him fed is a full time job.”

“Dealing with him period is a fucking career,” he muttered under his breath. Gratefully, Hank waved off the android. “Wife of the fucking SWAT captain, relax would you.”

“I honestly have no idea where he is but we all know his second wife is his desk.”

The obvious joke resonated differently with you than he likely intended for it to. In truth, your husband, his desk … and yourself had a bit of a polymourous relationship, to put it lightly. Not that you would embarrass David by bringing that up now. 

Maybe over drinks on night. 

Grateful for the unexpected intervention, you took advantage of the reprieve to escape through the security gates while you could. Waving to Hank, you bid him a good night.

“The fourth floor isn’t that big. He can’t hide forever.”

The few officers who did recognize you bid you a mix of greetings and farewells from those eager to return to their own families. As you climbed levels however, the gestures became more strict in the form of salutes and slim smiles that oozed stress. 

Rolling your eyes to the roof of the elevator, you began to pray that it wasn't a premonition of what to expect when you finally discovered your husband. You reminded yourself that you were merely there to deliver a meal, not stir up anything that could be settled at home. 

Your marriage worked this long because you respected those boundaries. The same ones that had been built without your knowledge back in university. 

By the relaxed posture of his assistant it was safe to assume he wasn’t in his office. Rachel confirmed as much with a quick wave.

“Captain Allen is in a meeting, ma’am.”

“Thats fine. Is his office open? Just dropping off dinner.”

She eyed the bag as if it was a saving grace. No doubt a prayer she’d made earlier in the day to try and aleve whatever symptoms were aggravating her boss’ nerves. 

If only it was so easy.

“I can get that for you.”

The panel in front of the door switches from red and blue, granting you access. You find yet another reason to send the young woman a nice gift basket. As if all the years of putting up with your husband didn’t earn her a vacation overseas.

Frankly, she might never look back.

“Thank you, Nancy.”

His office is as bleak and bland as the last time you’d entered it. Not even the wealth of his awards managing to permeate the walls. A few of the important credentials made the cut out of sheer necessity. You’d managed to break up the rest of the wall with two scenery photos. 

And that was it.

For someone who practically made his office his home, the lack of comfortably baffled you.

Placing the bags on the corner of his desk, you made yourself comfortable in his chair. Your job title aloe made snooping both enticing and forbidden. A thin lace of trust had been bestowed upon you given your connection to one of the largest media networks in the city. While your husband’s authority gave you more liberties than most it didn’t mean it couldnt be ripped away.

So against your journalist instinct, you kept your hands to yourself while you twiddled with a simple app on your phone. Fortunately, your husband didn’t keep you waiting long before you heard Nancy sharp cry of warning.

“Oh! Wait sir, your-”

You don’t know who is more surprised when you husband enters his office unaware. His shoulders stiffen briefly before he recognizes your silhouette by his desk, Nancy’s warning long forgotten. He looked like he was ready to chew out his next victim of the day and you could only snort in amusement. 

“Really, David.”

He’s wearing your favorite hoody of his- one you know come with a plethora of replacements but not a single is ever given to you despite your insistence. You’ve taken to wearing them briefly after laundry loads, while the house is to yourself. By the time he makes it home, its nestled comfortably in his drawer as if it was never touched. 

A secret compromise.

The door slides shut behind him as he approaches the desk. Affections pleasantly not forgotten as he leans down to peck at your cheek,“Its late, you didn't have to come by.”

“Well, I was hungry too. Figured you wouldn't want your food to get cold. Reheating meat will sometimes make it tough.”

David took the opportunity to peek into the paper bags, a hint of a smile triggering wider one for you when he recognized one of his favorites. You watched quietly as he unpacked the food, not missing how he arranged things carefully to keeps your safely confined while setting aside his own. 

It was an easier dismissal when you were expecting it. 

The hard edge of your neglected badge bit into your skin as you adjusted yourself against the desk, “Trying to get rid of me so soon, captain. I didn’t even get to opportunity to ask my questions yet.”

Unraveling the warmth of a freshly baked roll, your husband gave you an unamused grimace before taking a bite from the buttery loaf. 

“The SWAT team is not currently accepting any questions nor has any scheduled plans to council the press for ongoing operations.”

Your smile is as dangerous as your job implies, “So you guys are working on something top secret.”

“Would be home if it wasn’t.”

That was a lie and you both knew it. David would always find something to keep him occupied in his career. It had built him up and functioned as his stability. You were mere crutches on the sidelines waiting until you were needed.

As simple as it would be to challenge the claim, you thought better of it. Instead you continued to eat up time, relaxed comfortably in his chair while your husband was distracted with his meal. It seemed that his hunger had gotten to a point where he was reluctant to entertain anything that isn't satisfying his stomach. 

“Strip was sold out, so I hope skirt is okay?” 

Your husband wasn’t huge on grilling like some of the neighbors in your area but he did appreciate a good steak. Sometimes if you were lucky, he would even surprise you with a nice dinner in the kitchen on the rare occasions he actual beat you home or the scarcer days off. 

Using his teeth, David fought the crackle of the plastic wrapped utensil set,” Smells good, baby. Thank you.”

His obvious appreciation warmed you enough to coax a bit of boldness out of you. Walking your fingertips closer to the bag, you tugged it closer. “The renovators called back. They can fit us in next weekend to resurface the shower.”

Your house wasn’t old but there had been some changes you’d promised yourself when you’d first moved it. Earlier in your marriage, you had hoped to make a couples project out of it. But as the years passed, you began to understand that if you didn't  get someone else on the job it wasn't going to get done. 

Carefully pulling your own box free, you kept your voice even as your poked through your meal. “I’m having my mom come meet them that Thursday so they can do a final walkthrough for a quote. I’ll be home for the other days.”

“You’re not worried she won't change your plans?”

Twirling your pasta around your fork, you gave his question a thoughtful pause. It had crossed your mind. Your home wasn’t the first thing she had tried to intervene in. But you had made your own wishes noted in the initial meeting. Having your mother there was just supervision at this point.

“Nah, I'll be there for all the real work. I really just need her to keep Kaius calm.”

Retired from service but certainly not an impression on his age, the eight year old shepard still took his training seriously at home. It made it difficult to let anyone into the house without one of you there to assure him it was okay. The task was still difficult for you without David’s overwhelming presence to settle the canine. 

Resting his hip against the corner of the desk, your husband became visibly more relaxed into the conversation as he balanced the bottom of his togo box on his hand. “I don’t mind if he comes to work. He should be fine in my office for a day.”

You shrugged,”It's all worked out.”

At most, you were expecting one human to supervise a few androids. As impersonal as it made the job, it certainly didnt put a damper on efficiency. You expected nothing less than the projected project. 

He surprised you by leaning in then to press a quick kiss to your lips, a sneaky swipe of tongue catching the splash of sauce previously unknown to you. When you look up, he was watching you with that analytical look.

“I know what you’re doing.”

Caught, you could only smile sheepishly as you pointed the fork in his direction. “This is nice, don’t ruin it.”

Humming thoughtfully, your husband eventually returned to his own meal. 

David finished well before fullness crept in for you, his own haste favoring time over taste. But he was getting his nutrition so you found it hard to complain. 

A few tedious comments came to mind but none of them felt strong enough to tether him to a conversation. Accepting the time you got gratefully, you began putting away the leftovers to take home. 

“I’m off tomorrow so you don’t need to tip toe. I’ll leave the light on above the stove.”

Sometimes you found it funny how much your friends raves about the life you must have being married to a SWAT captain. Overwhelmed by their own fantasies of rugged encounters and frantic passion. 

It was true on occasion. There were times  that the stress of the job encouraged his hands to be a little more rough. Or time constraints found you bent over something convenient with your panties jerked to the side. 

As thrilling as it was, the novelty wore off quicker than it did in literature. 

There wasn’t a day you weren’t thankful of how well your husband aged, you just wanted more opportunities to appreciate it. 

You rise from your seat, expecting a final kiss of gratitude before you went on your way. 

You hasn’t realized your eyes had slid closed until they were opening in confusion at the touch of his thumb against your cheek. Against your better judgement, you leaned into the brief show of affection, lips parting to accept the pad of his finger. 

You know it won’t lead to much but the small stirrings it causes is worth the brevity. You crave his closeness whether he’s away like any wife would. But loving David Allen takes the punch of out love and jackhammers a new meaning into it. 

“”Thank you.”

The sincerity of it pressures your heart and your eyes close voluntarily this time, just wishing he would meet your expectation.

There is a pause, the silence tarnished by your audible sigh. Part of it is drawn back in a sharp gasp when his nose bumps against your own, then his lips find yours. 

The kiss is slow and measured, familiar even as you dare to run your palms down his front. His stomach curls under your touch, the lean muscle jumping slightly as your fingers challenge the hem of his pants. 

Swallowing, you taunt further with another tug. Venerability paints itself a lovely shade against your skin, coating you in a rosy blush. This wasn’t your arriving plan. But years have taught you that planning ahead rarely went well with David.

Carefully, you reach up and thumb the curve of his lower lip and draw him even closer. Even breaths waft over your face. Measured well, despite the proposition offered before him. 

In a mess of tongue and teeth, you whisper his name and teeter his resolve in the same breath. 

It has been a very long time since he’s humored an excursion like this and you’re patting yourself on the back for taking the chance. 

His mouth teases the skin at the nape of your neck and you wonder how far he plans to take this. His nose brushes against your ear next, nuzzling just under the curve where he knows you like it best. 

Your shirt rides up as he rolls his body against you, his hands quick to tend to your warm skin. His thumb teases the underside of your bra and it’s difficult not to let your mind wander.

Chest rising and falling in erratic intervals, you finally put a voice behind your desires. 

“Will fuck me here?”

David breathes in sharply then and for a moment you’re worried he’ll pull back to he senses. Your heart flutters nervously, awaiting a curt dismissal. But then a knee nudges firmly between your thighs and you find yourself biting your cheek to contain your grin. 

He continues to mouth at your neck while his hands answer your question, quickly and efficiently working at your belt. The hand not holding you in place slips under the hem of your pants with practiced ease. 

It will have to be quick but part of the thrill is inherit in the act itself. You know you’re already wet before his fingers reach their destination, his thumb flicking against your clit as his fingers curl into your sticky wetness. 

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you, kitten? That’s why you came so late at night. Hoping to bride me into a quick fuck for your troubles?”

Part of you wished that had been your intention. You would have tried a hell of a lot harder if you’d known he’d be this willing. 

Sorry, Nancy.

There was always something sinfully dangerous about being taken in his office. To think the place where the city puts most of its trust will be defiled by your marital affairs will never fail to get you in the mood. 

David catches you before you can get careless, moving the food a safe distance away from your body before pressing you firmer against the desk. He doesn’t pay much attention to your breast but the stimulation from being pressed into the desktop makes up for it. Nothing else matters however when he’s dragging down his pants and your own with hast movements and lining himself up. 

It’s a slow sink- deep as he allows you time to open up for him. 

The situation doesn’t allow for it to be drawn out much longer than that. The frivolous teasing prior had already eaten into your limited time of unsuspicion. Not to mention any concerning noises that might permeate the door.

David does the sound control for you, risking quiet grunts as he digs his grip into the curve of your hip. His pace is slow but firmly backed by his weight as he quite literally fucks the air right out of your lungs, thrust near hard enough to shake the desk. 

He lifts his hips slightly, just enough too prod for the right angle, hitting that same spot again and again as you grip desperately at his arms. You return the favor, stealing his groans as you kiss back as vehemently as his hips grind into you. It only takes one good strategic thrust to capsize you under your simmering climax.

You remember a time, fumbling in college when you had to remind him to be wary- to pull out. Even early in your marriage you’d been cautious. 

Now, it was welcomed. The fact of not trying to try bleeding into a kink to take off the edge of pending results. You’d decided mutually to accept a child if the possibility arose but you wouldn’t make an intentional effort. 

Nearing your forties now, it wasn’t a forgotten proposition but it hardly factored into your mindset. It’s no where near innocent as your ankles dig firmly into his lower back, drawing him closet and locking him in.

Your husband’s hips stuttered briefly as his fingers reassessed their grip before he resumed his pace with firmer thrusts. Each one bouncing off the round of your backside. The hand at the base of your spine keeps you anchored- not that you’d made any attempt to disagree with anything he was giving you. 

He seemed to reward you for that, a lazy thumb counting your vertebrae in its travels, eliciting a quivering pleasure.  

“Maybe this is the key, huh? You’re always so much more receptive when there is the potential for audience.” 

He knows and fuck, you miss that voice. The way it rumbles deep in his chest before tumbling out in timber. 

“Of course, I’d never let them see. But I’d be happy to show off the results, hmm?”

His hands slid to your flank before curling around to flatten against the plane of your belly. It stays there, stroking the pseudo curve implanted in his head. 

He encourages you to grind back into his quickening thrusts, the fingers at your hip dragging you back in assistance. Whining, you dip your chest and arch your back. Your actions echo your thoughts. Faster. More. Deeper. Please

“That's what you want, right? For me to fill you up, baby?”

God… you drool around the thought. Your words fumbling around gurgles as you attempt to collect yourself enough to stop moaning and properly respond. Blood rushed in your ears and floods down your body. Working yourself up from your toes, you flex them, pushing your weight to your feet and lifting. It offers you a better advantage to pushing back into each eager thrust. 

Rather than praise your efforts, your husband only returns your gesture by carding his fingers through your hair. Tightening. Shoving down. 

“Fuck, yes, Dav-“ You hiss when he knocks particularly hard against your cervix to which he mends with an apologetic kiss to the back of your head. His thrust slow marginally, just enough to regain control before he’s coaxing you again with a nip to the shell of your ear. 

“Tell me, kitten.”

You reach for something-not sure of what. Neither does he it seems, but his hand finds yours anyway to which you curl them both the fabric of your chest. 

“I want it all-please.”

He jerks you back-once...twice before suddenly you’re overwhelmed with the weight of him on top and the pressure of him inside. 

You lie there for a short time, uncomfortable, but too laced by exhaustion to do much else. The feeling of fatigue crept onto you both with out warning, using the disguise of passion to worm its way inside.

He’s not perfect. Neither yourself or this marriage. But where most had doomed you both to fail, mutual perseverance told the rest to go fuck themselves.

There wasn’t much else either of you could offer to the remaining hours of the night. With that resolve, your slow rhythmic strokes against your husband’s back came to a halt, slightly rousing him in the process.

“Mhmm, come home with me, yeah?”

He heaves a sigh but you know you have him. 

“Yeah. Let’s go home.”