#and if you don’t know HOW to contact the government (or are anxious) let me walk you through it:

[chaosnojutsu]

What he’s doing is a direct violation of the United Nations’ Universal Declaration of Human Rights.

[ID in alt text]

If you’ll direct your attention to Article 5 and refer to the headline about Abbott, someone please correct me if I’m wrong, but I think most would agree that requiring employees to perform manual labor in temperatures above 100° F without providing them adequate means of hydration constitutes “cruel, inhuman or degrading treatment.” Furthermore, it might be a stretch but one could say that since water is necessary to life, Abbott’s actions also violate Article 3.

And you can argue that “they should bring their own water” if you want. I’m not out there on the construction sites every day, so I can’t imagine what it’s like or make up what rules/policies are in place concerning the matter. But as someone who also lives in Texas and experiences these temperatures and their effects on a day to day basis, while spending most of my miserable time indoors with the air conditioning on, working around the house but definitely not performing construction, and has chugged more water in the past month than I have in the past five years combined (and I wish that was an exaggeration)… I’d venture to say that these workers already are bringing their own water. But there’s no way to refill or replace water consumed. They’re probably finishing it off in the first half hour of work and then suffering the rest of the day. Or maybe they’re rationing it so they can make it through the day relatively hydrated. I honestly can’t tell you which one sounds more horrifying, but I can tell you beyond a shadow of a doubt that those things are happening.

(Side anecdote: Texas has a University Interscholastic League of which most, if not all, school districts are a part of. UIL is taken incredibly seriously across the state, including enforcement of rules at any and every academic/athletic practice or contest to the nth degree. The UIL rules concerning groups that practice outdoors (football, marching band, etc.) require frequent water breaks. It’s odd to me that, given Texas’ abysmal education system and its rapidly worsening state under Abbott’s administration, there are strict mandates regarding the health and safety of student competitors— as there should be, but guess what, UIL is not a government entity and they still managed to implement those rules and put the fear of god into anyone who dares disobey— but not for paid laborers. It’s almost as if Greg Abbott is so bigoted that he doesn’t care about the lives of the predominantly POC construction workers and doesn’t care who knows it.)

So weaponize your horror. Call my governor about it. Call YOUR government about it. Call the ACLU and the UN about it. Because even if I’m wrong and this is somehow technically legal and there’s “nothing we can do about it,” at least we tried something to stand up to our oppressors and make life less miserable for each other.

And don’t you dare say a word about Texans “getting what we deserve for living in a red state” when there are so many marginalized groups who simply cannot leave at this point in time, especially when our attorney general was impeached earlier this month and admitted to blocking millions of votes in the last election cycles so that the GOP would win. Had Ken Paxton not done that, Beto O’Rourke would have ousted Ted Cruz, Trump would not have won Texas, and Abbott would not be emboldened to take action this heinous with so many political adversaries in office, if he were even still in office.

Their goal is cruelly and death to minorities, especially with this sadistic ruling.

[ch-4-eri]

LOVE POTIONS — Jill Valentine.

best friend’s mom! jill X female reader.

warnings: 18+ mdni!! age gap (don’t say i didn’t warn you) oral, dirty talk, hints at the reader being a virgin if you squint. i don’t know if i’m missing anything let me know.

word count: 1.4k

i’m so sick for this, i’ll go to hell on my own, don’t fuck your friend’s mothers guys. but do enjoy this.

you couldn’t explain it, even if you wanted, the whole thing was messy from the beginning.

it was supposed to be something innocent, completely harmless and has no threat to anyone in your life or yourself.

or your best friend.

if only you never met his mother, Jill Valentine, government agent, and a former RPD S.T.A.R.S member.

but god, you didn’t think it through.

didn’t think your attitude and the way you looked at the woman were entirely calculated, jill knew.

this woman has a love for details and reading you, every time you came over; what you’d say and what’d you do, what you’re wearing.

she’d show you she’s busy, working documents and important things for the BSAA, jill to you was just a best friend’s mother.

but you both had one hell of an unspoken sexual tension.

which you tried to hide, tried to shove in the back of your mind as your age gap is fucking nuts and you always worry someone would read your mind which isn’t even a realistic idea, but still, you were too anxious to act on it, even alone, self awareness preventing you from being able to stay in your head for long.

but jill on the other hand… when every time she analysed you, how you talk, how you act, your ass in your tiny skirts drives her fucking crazy enough she finds herself unable to sleep, her hand inside her shorts as she’s pumping herself up at the thought of you with her hand covering her mouth.

surely she felt ashamed, a woman her age acting and thinking like this, she felt so much guilt and shame for operating like a damn teenage boy riling with hormones over a girls ass in a skirt.

a girl her son’s age.

she knew if he ever found her out, he’d hate her forever and she can’t afford losing him, not after fighting for his custody for many years with her ex husband.

but that’s not what she had in mind that day, when she had you splayed down her bed so late at night, her fingers in your mouth as she ate you out like no tomorrow, your legs on her shoulders, your moans muffled by her thick fingers pressing down your tongue, drooling all over them.

“taste’s so good..” jill groaned against your clit, her mouth engulfing you, sending your back arching, she pulls away and sits up, making you ache at the loss of contact and the warmth you felt between your legs.

jill removed her fingers from your mouth, wiping your saliva off them down her bedsheets, going on her knees to meet your eyes as you were so lost in the feeling of pleasure you never got from anyone else other than this woman, a woman you shouldn’t even be doing this with.

but neither of you were even thinking of that right now.

jill had your chin in her palm as you opened your eyes, your breathing shaky and heavy, drool covering your chin as you smelled like sex and vanilla to the older woman’s nostrils.

“i want you to sit on my face, yeah? can you do that for me?” jill smirked, licking her lips with the tongue you want to be inside you again so badly.

you nodded eagerly, the thought of having her mouth against your pussy again was driving you mad with chills coursing through your body. “mhm.. yes please.” you begged, your eyes staring into hers pleadingly, like a lost puppy. fucked up enough.

jill patted your legs, lying down on the mattress of her huge bed, she wasn’t wearing anything other than her lacey bra and underwear, she was a fucking sight, you’d drool on her looks alone. even for a woman her age, she was damn delicious and you couldn’t get your eyes off her as you went on your knees and crawled to her.

she prepared the seat that was her face you were going to be sitting on for the next many minutes, hopefully hours if it were up to the older woman. moving her short brown hair away from her blue eyes you’d drown in.

as you made it closer to her, you were a bit nervous, a question rolling around your head you had to make sure of, you had to ask, as silly as it made you sound to a woman with so much experience.

“do i sit or hover?” you asked, your voice betraying you, your cheeks rosy and lips red and swollen.

jill chuckled, like she was making fun of you. “sit.” she demands. “i want you to suffocate me.” jill added, taking a hold of your thigh as she brought you closer with her strong grip.

“i want you to cum in my mouth.. am i clear, sweet girl?” she demanded as soon as you gasped, raising an eyebrow at your hesitation.

“y-yes..” you nodded like the puppy you are, you weren’t going to upset her, you hated to refuse jill.

and jill hated it when you refused her.

you finally scooted up to jill’s head, placing a knee next to her head, the other doing the same as you lowered your body so your wet pussy made contact with her nose, both of you let out a sigh while jill’s hands positioned you properly on her face, and as soon as you felt her tongue lick a long stripe up your sopping wet hole you let out a sickeningly pornographic moan, your hands grabbing at the headboard of her bed.

“ah.. jill..” you breathed, your thighs squeezing the older woman’s head, her tongue sucking and licking at your hole as she made it her sole purpose for you to cum in her mouth and if she keeps this up you’re gonna do it more than once, not that jill would complain.

her strong hands gripped your ass so tight, her tongue brutally slamming inside of you, as was her nose, sliding it up and down which drew pathetic moans out of you.

jill was humming, groaning into you, making your legs shake and your thighs closing in on her, and you were worried you were hurting her even though jill was having a fucking blast, she adored those damn thighs, if she suffocateds and dies like this it’ll all be worth it.

“please.. can’t take this anymore.” you cried out, making jill just suck at your clit like a starved woman, her body humming and shivering as she was desperate to get touched as well, rubbing her thighs together while her hands reached your hips in a bruising grip.

you were shuddering and whimpering, your legs so weak as you didn’t want to put your full weight on the woman’s face. “jill..” you moaned as she flicked her tongue against your sopping walls, your thighs filled with goosebumps.

“i’m..” you start, your lower belly so tight with a burning sensation that you were so close to your release, jill positioned you right into her mouth as she knew you were close, drinking you up as you finally gushed your orgasm down her mouth like she wanted.

“mmm..” jill mumbled, swallowing every last bit of what you can give her, you tasted like heaven, fucking delicious.

you were trying to catch your breath, your heart hammering against your rib cage as jill patted your thigh.

you weakly pulled your knee away from her head, your legs were shaking like crazy, your center so sensitive and puffy.

“i bet you can’t walk now, huh?” jill joked, sitting up on her elbows, her cheeks red from the heat of being between your thighs for as long as she just was, her nose and her lips shiny and sticky from your release and you were so sick for thinking she looked so darn good with your cum on her face.

you gulped, heat rushing into your cheeks at her words. “just a little sore.” you mumbled shyly, like you weren’t just seated on her face.

“a little sore hm? come here for me..” jill gestured for you to come closer to her. “you think you can just rest without returning the favour?”

jill smirked and brushed your hair away from your face, brushing two fingers against your hardened nipples.

“i know you can’t handle me sitting on your face… i’m afraid i’d break you entirely… but you have fingers don’t you?”

she says in a suggestive tone, grabbing your nipple into her mouth, your eyes closing at the sensation, your hands going into her hair as a moan escaped you.

jill took your hand and brought it near her panties.

then she pulled away with a pop, her blue eyes staring into yours so intensely. “now be a good girl and touch me.”

oh boy you’re screwed.

[uhohdad]

EXPERIMENTAL

it’s been awhile since i’ve written please mind the rust

Summary: Konig helps Researcher!Reader with a new technology they’ve been developing.

AO3 Link: X

PART TWO: X

Word Count: 5,4k

Warnings: Flirting, Sexual Content, NSFW, Reader x Konig, talk of standard war stuff, Reader is a bit of a pervert. Non-con Voyeurism. Reader has anxious thoughts/low-self esteem-ish? No use of y/n, reader’s gender/sex is incomprehensible, cause I do for the girls the gays and the theys.

NSFW UNDER CUT

You never thought you’d end up working for the government, but the opportunity was too good. Where else would you find a grant to experiment if not for the generous funding of the military industrial complex? You should have known. Research is research, you told yourself, and the pay is too good to pass up on.

Most of your time was spent in the lab. For the most part, you had worked alone, spending up to 14 hours a day working on your project. It had been months, but you’re sure your developments will forever change warfare.

How many deaths will your creations be responsible for? How much blood on your hands?

No. It’s just a job.

You let out a deep sigh. Usually you have background noise - music, a show, a podcast - something to help ward off the obsessive thoughts. But today you had visitors coming.

You had requested a test subject for a beta version of your project. A soldier to help work out the bugs before the final version gets sent on the battlefield.

Battlefield.

Don’t think about it. Don’t think about-

A knock interrupted your internal conflict. You looked up, your eyes meeting the visitor through the circular glass pane of the swinging door. Just his eyes, as the visitor wore a black mask that draped from underneath a helmet, flowing over his shoulders and down his chest. You couldn’t help the concerned look that crossed your face as you hesitantly waved him in.

The door creaked as it opened and the man stepped in. You shoulders eased a bit when you noticed the uniform previously obscured by the door, confirming he was a soldier from the base and not an intruder in a mask. You couldn’t help but tense again once you noticed his stature. Even from across the room you could tell he was well over 6’5. You’re sure he could reach his hand up and touch the ceiling with ease. Muscles with enough mass and definition to be seen even under the uniform.

What are they feeding these boys?

“Hi! I mean- hi. Uh,” Your introduction was shaky, but it was on par for your typical social interactions. After giving him your name, you asked for his.

“Konig,” He responded, his deep voice and coarse accent catching you off guard once again.

“Ha, yes. Nice to meet you.” You took a deep breath in hopes to conceal your fluster before continuing, “You’re here to help me test the new tech, right?”

Konig shifts in his spot a few paces from the door, not daring to step any closer to you. You’re wonder if you were coming off as too cold. “Uh, yes.” He clears his throat, “Just let me know what you need from me.”

Okay, straight to the point. You can do that. You’re happy to move on from the unsteady introduction. “Right,” You turn your attention from him to your laptop and the project in front of you. You hold up your device for him to see. He takes this as his invitation to move closer to get a better look, his black boots making their presence known as they stepped across the tile. The device resembled an earpiece - a small black strip attached to a coiled wire that ends with a sensible black base. “It doesn’t have a name. Yet.” You find yourself struggling to make eye contact with Konig, “Uh, here, it might be easier to just show you.” You flip the laptop around so he can see the screen. He’s standing right next to you now, and it’s hard not to notice how small you feel standing next to this giant of a man.

His bicep is the width of my head.

Stop it.

You try to smother your distracted thoughts as you put the device behind your ear and turn it on. A transparent projection in the shape of a curved rectangle covers your eyes, overlaying your view of the lab.

Konig watched silently as the screen on your laptop changed, now displaying your view through the lens. “This device is powered by AI.” You felt more confident now. You weren’t great at small talk but your work was your comfort zone.

“The possibilities are endless. Without being fed blueprints or GPS - it’s able to scan & provide a map of a building before you even set foot in it, and give you the safest path trajectories.” You make some adjustments from the laptop, and the projection overlays filters on your vision. Directional arrows appear, showing the easiest exit from the lab with coordinates and distance countdown to destination.

You continue, “Target identification.” You look at Konig from behind the transparent projection. He meets your eyes before quickly shifting his gaze back to the laptop, where he could see himself outlined in a bright red overlay.

“Scanning capabilities, even through solid objects. It can identify any object you want. Not just objects, either.” You turn your gaze toward the lab wall. Konig watches carefully as the faded outlines of workers on the base from rooms away appear, their heart rates and heat map registering from beyond the cold tile walls.

Konig stares, impossible to read.

“And uhm,” you pick up an additional device from the table, a thin square chip, “This is an attachment for your, er, weapon.” You cringe a bit at this feature, “The AI has aim assist, too. You know self driving cars? Ah, well, it hasn’t been fully tested yet, but in addition to auto aim it- uhm,” You can’t help but let out a nervous laugh, trailing off.

“It shoots for you.” Konig finishes so you don’t have to.

You wonder if the guilt is obvious.

It might as well be you out there in the field, taking lives. He’s probably disgusted with you under that hood, you think.

You purse your lips for a moment, “Yes. But we’re just scratching the surface. This technology is capable of-“

“It’s brilliant,”

Konig is skilled in the art of catching you off guard. He tilts his head, curiously eyeing in your direction. You wonder if he’s looking at your features or the projection,

“You made this yourself?”

You study him back, trying to figure out if he was mocking you, but unable to decipher his expression from under his hood. The AI continued to monitor him on your vision, and you felt as if you were violating his privacy by watching his heart rate slightly spike as he looked you over.

He must be lying.

You turned the device off and set it on the table, “Yes. It’s not perfect, but I’m hoping you can help me work out all the flaws.”

His stared quietly for a moment and you felt dread pool in your stomach, wishing you could see his expression under his hood. “I’d be honored to.”

A shaky smile formed on your face. You could no longer read his heart rate, but you found yourself wanting to believe the sincerity of his voice. “Let’s get started.”

You pick up another matching set of devices, two thin c-shaped bands, before continuing, “Obviously you can’t take a laptop out in the field. These are portable remotes.” Konig watches attentively as you place one of the bracelet shaped device on your wrist, tapping on it to summon another projection. “I tried to make it as user-friendly as possible. We can make adjustments if needed before launch.” You hold out the device toward him. “For you.”

He looks hesitantly at the device. Instead of taking it from you, he places his arm out on the table in front of you.

You’re distracted by your own remote and a moment passes before you register he hasn’t taken it from you. You glance over at his outstretched arm before meeting his eyes.

He sees your confused look and explains, “I just- I don’t want to break it.” Konig knows his own strength and he knows the worth of your project. He doesn’t want to accidentally apply too much pressure and ruin your work.

A nervous laugh escapes you, but you oblige him. You made this device for the battlefield, it’s meant to withstand more than a man. Even an extra large, muscular-

Stop it.

You’re not going to push. You carefully take his forearm in your hand, adjusting the device to his wrist. You try not think about how muscular and hard his forearms are, and try even harder not to think about how hard his biceps would be. And you definitively try not to think about how hard his-

Stop it.

“That comfortable?”

His voice is low, “Yes. Thank you.”

“Of course,” leaves your mouth, a little breathier than you intended.

Your face burns and you’re sure he’s got you pinned. You wish you could ask to borrow his mask.

It’s been a long time since you’ve experienced intimacy, okay? You’ve been confined to these four walls for months now, devoid of human touch. You’d be frothing at the mouth for anything bipedal at this point, let alone the mysterious superhuman sitting across from you.

You’re at a disadvantage, to say the least.

You can’t even look at him.

Konig carefully taps on the device on his wrist, activating his remote. The projection appears and he moves his arm to get a closer look. “This is the most incredible thing I’ve ever seen.”

If he didn’t notice your blush before he was sure to now. “Oh! I don’t-“ Another nervous laugh, “It’s nothing. Let’s get you calibrated.”

You pick up the earpiece and hand it to him, still avoiding his gaze. You’re forced to meet his eyes again when he doesn’t take it. There’s no way you could handle putting this one on for him. This time you reassure him, “It’s okay. I know it’s small, but it’s durable. I promise.”

He carefully takes it from you, and you try not to notice the electricity you feel when his fingers graze yours. He reaches under his hood, the fabric warping as he places the device behind his ear and turned it on, the same way he watched you do it. He then waited patiently for your guidance.

You put your earpiece on before making a few adjustments on your bracelets projection. “Okay! We should be synced now. Go ahead and pull up your settings.”

You take him through the customizations, telling him how to switch between visual overlays, how to use multiple at once. Display adjustments, how to use the intercom. He watches intently, never interrupting.

“I hope I’m not boring you.”

“Boring me?” Konig stares at you, eyes saturated with disbelief at your doubt. “It’s incredible.”

You feel the warmth creep up on your cheeks again. All of the doubts and moral dilemmas you’ve been mulling over the past few years seem to melt away when Konig compliments you.

“Want to take it for a drive?”

“Absolutely.”

—————————————————-

It’s been awhile since you’ve been out on the field. The passed months have been spent under the florescent lights of the lab, hunched over your laptop as you fought with code. Feeling accomplished when you made a step forward in progress, followed quickly by a sinking feeling as you tried not to think of the consequences of each development.

It was nice to feel the sun for a change.

Konig followed a few steps behind you, both sets of boots crunching on the gravel beneath you. Few words had been exchanged. There was something about unreadable people made you nervous, but you tried not to let it show.

You stopped once in front of the empty shoot house, looking up to the soldier that towered over you.

“I had weapons development make us a prototype gun to pair with the AI. It’s for testing purposes only, so it doesn’t shoot real bullets.” You pointed at the faux shotgun propped up against the outer wall of the shoot house. “The auto aim chip is already attached. It’s going to be something to get used to.”

You continue, “I’ve placed the AI on test. It will simulate the conditions of a mission in a way that adjusts to your learning speed. Obviously once you get used the system we’ll have test runs with real people, but for now I just want you to get used to the overlays. If you get stumped, just let me know. I’ll be able to hear and see what you can from out here. I’m synced in to your device, too, so if you can’t figure out the adjustments, or can’t access your device, I can take care of that for you remotely.”

“Understood.”

You couldn’t help but smile at the way he spoke to you like you had seniority, with the utmost respect. It made you feel important. Really it should be the other way around - a nerdy weakling in the presence of an experienced and powerful soldier. You briefly wonder what exactly a man of his stature is capable of. He looks like he could pick up a grown man and snap him in half like a toothpick. Let alone what he could do to you…

You force yourself to stay on topic, but your smile lingers, “Any questions for me?”

You still can’t decipher what’s going on under the mask, but his voice is soft, as soft as it can be under his rigid accent, “Negative.” He walks over to the prop gun and picks it up, handling it expertly. Even though it’s a replica, he still opens the chamber and curiously peaks inside. Watching his big hands run over the realistic firearm caused an intoxicating mixture of fear and arousal to wash over you, manifesting as a tightness in your lower gut. You can’t remember the last time someone made you feel this way. Dizzy and excited and nervous.

It didn’t help that you’ve spent the last few months practically isolated and without intimacy.

He’s going to be the death of me.

Stop it. We’re just excited about testing the project. It’s a long time coming.

He would make me come a long time.

Stop. It.

After you watch him disappear into the shoot house, you turn on the intercom, “Konig? Can you hear me?”

“Affirmative.”

His gravely voice flooding your intercom is not helping your dirty thoughts. You pull up his view on your projection. “Okay, I have your video feed. Are you ready for the simulation?”

He cocks the prop gun so loud you could hear it from inside the building in addition to the comm. “Affirmative.”

Oh, fuck.

The knot in your stomach doubles and you think your knees might just buckle. You shift in your spot in the dirt to steady yourself, gravel scraping under your shoe.

You hear your name over the comm. “You still there?” Your attention is brought back to his view. You can see the world from his eye level and get taken aback at how different it looks compared to yours.

“Sorry,” you clear your throat, raising your arm equipped with the wrist remote, “Okay, in 3… 2… 1…” You press the button to start his test simulation.

You watch as Konig looks around. He’s got target scan activated, and the AI has overlaid fake targets onto his projection for him to hunt and eliminate.

You watch carefully, scanning the screen for any imperfections in your coding. The guide seems to be working smoothly, directing Konig through the maze-like hallways of the shoot house with ease. The placement of targets are generated randomly and you’ll have to crunch the numbers later to verify, but it seems to have accurately calculated the most efficient route, directing him accordingly. You try to ignore the sound of Konigs hitched breathing over your receiver and try even harder to ignore the way it’s making you feel. Instead you make sure the auto aim function is activated.

“Approaching first target.” He says over the comm and you can help but smile at how serious he is taking it. You remember your first time in the range, testing out the auto aim on the simulations. How silly you felt. Like a child playing with a toy gun. You think it’s sweet he’s indulging you.

His steps become quieter as he rounds the corner and his breathing slows. He pauses briefly before quickly jumping out at the target. You can tell the auto aim takes over and the shotgun pulls against his grip with the force of a strong magnet. It’s alarming at first, you remember, the gun taking control from you.

It’s not like that, of course. You designed it to be a teammate. Able to identify and terminate a threat before the user had even registered it was there. It was meant to protect the user, to defend their life.

That’s what you tried to tell yourself anyway. It was easier to swallow than thinking of it as the automatic killing robot it really was.

You kept the auto-fire function off for now. Partially because you wanted to slowly transition him into the AI features. Partially because you were ashamed.

You watch as Konig takes back control of the gun. He’ll learn how to work with it instead of against it soon, you remember the same struggle you had yourself in early testing. He fires at the target, a projection of an enemy soldier the AI had slowed for training purposes. Konig pulls the trigger and you hear the sound of gunshots. In real life, of course, nothing had fired. But the AI simulation was designed to immerse the player, imitating the feel of the battlefield. From Konig’s perspective he may as well just shot through a human heart. Other than the learning curve of your designs- it seems natural for him.

It was not natural for you when you had experienced the simulation. If anything it was just a fully immersible prediction of the consequences to your actions. Fuck Around and Find Out™️ now coming to an VR headset near you.

You watched his target drop & fade away in a dust of pixels, a design change you made after being unable to bear the look of replicated dead soldiers lying limp on the floor.

It’s just a job.

“Konig? How did that feel?” You wished you could see his face on the screen before remembering you wouldn’t have been able to see anything behind his hood anyway. You briefly consider a self-facing camera, but wonder if it would be for the improvement of the design or for self-serving reasons. You’d have to think of another good purpose to add it to the final product later.

“It’s a lot faster than I am.” He stuck with the facts, not wanting to cause a misunderstanding if it was strange for him to get used to.

“That’s the idea. Weird, right?” You offered, your smile lifting the tone of your voice.

“Very.” You could tell he was smiling too. “I want to try a few more - I’ll get used to it.”

He continues through the shoot house, approaching the next simulated targets. He’s slowing learning to work with the AI, letting it guide him as he controls the trigger. You watch as your program learns his skill, escalating the challenge first by increasing enemy speed and difficulty, then by adding multiple targets at a time.

You can tell this man is a trained killer, even just from watching a trial. It’s clear he’d easily be able to handle a real mission with ease - your advancements or no. Watching his gloved hands grip the gun, his quickened breathing, made the tightness in your lower half hard to ignore. It felt wrong how his rugged demeanor turned you on.

He continued without faltering, navigating the shoot house’s maze-like layout with the help of your guidance program. Despite your reservations, you decide it’s time to add an additional integration. “Konig, the gun you’re using is fully compatible with the weapon chip. As in, trigger capabilities. If you’d like, you can turn on auto fire.”

There’s a slight pause, and you’re worried he’s realized the full implications of such a technology. You’re relieved when he finally speaks over the intercom, “I think I turned it on.”

You verify on his feed before responding, “You got it. Let me know if you need anything.”

Holding your breath, you observe your AI work. He rounds another corner and approaches two more targets. Your code was capable of identifying each target’s imminent threat level, eliminating them in order of danger to the user. You hear Konig’s breath hitch when the gun operates with a mind of its own, mowing down the simulated targets without hesitation. Each shot effectively tearing through the most vulnerable areas of the targets.

“Meine güte…” He mutters, taking a moment to register what had just happened. You watch his feed pan down to his gun, his hands turning it over to examine it in disbelief.

You wonder what he’s thinking as you watch those strong hands work. If he thinks you’re a monster for creating such a brutal and mindless killing machine.

“Konig?” Your voice is dripping with uncertainty, but it’s your job to collect his feedback, “All good?”

You watch his thumb stroke the forend before his gaze shifts up, “I think I might be out of a job.”

You let out a laugh, words pouring out of your mouth before you can stop them, “Well, I don’t think we’d be able to replace you.”

Ah, shit.

You’re hoping you didn’t lay all your cards on the table, but you don’t dare let the silence hang, forging on, “Human supervision is still needed when it comes to technology like this. You know, wouldn’t want it to turn evil and try to take over the population.”

You’re hoping you saved it, but the few seconds before he responds seem like a lifetime.

“Well if it was made by you, I don’t think it would be capable of turning evil.”

Your brain short circuits and your mouth parts as you ready to respond, but find that you’re unable.

What did he mean by that? If he was implying that you weren’t evil enough to negatively influence a code, then he didn’t know you. Of course he didn’t, he just met you.

Was he implying you were too smart of a programmer to let a technology go faulty? Then he REALLY didn’t know you. You think briefly to your failed prototypes. How long it took to work out the bug of the AI mistakenly registering civilian children as threats.

Ugh.

Whatever the implications, you understand that Konig just complemented you. Something you were not still not equipped to handle, demonstrated by your slack jaw and wide eyes you’re thankful he can’t see. All accompanied by a warm feeling that spreads across your chest.

He’s just being nice.

Sexual attraction, that you could handle.

Not a crush.

This is a no-crushing zone, you decide.

The warm feeling needs to stay below the belt, thank you very much.

It’s obvious you’re joking, but your voice has a different tone when you finally gather yourself. Softer, bordering on dispirited, “Well, I don’t know about that. Y’know, I once programmed a toaster to cook my toast the perfect amount every time. I wanted it to spring out at exactly the right speed & distance to land square on my plate. Like you see in cartoons, y’know? It worked for a little… but one day it starting burning all my toast to char and shooting it max speed at my ceiling. I think it got mad it’s life purpose was making my breakfast.”

You hear Konig laugh for the first time. A raspy, hearty laugh that floods your comm and fuels that warm feeling in your chest, much to your dismay. You nose scrunches as you watch the shake of his feed slow. “There are worse purposes.”

You didn’t even give yourself the space to dissect the implications on that one. The smile is apparent in your voice, “I’ll let the toaster know.”

Konig finished out the trial after getting used to a few more overlays. You confirmed you had everything you needed for the day before letting Konig know you could wrap up.

He met you at the entrance of the shoot house, handing over the gun to you. It took you a moment to get readjusted to his size. He was tall enough to block the entire sun, casting you in his shadow.

You hold the barrel of the gun with one hand, resting the butt on the dirt. With your other hand you remove your earpiece, “Thank you for your help today. Really.” You say, forced to tilt your head back to look up at him. “If you’re interested, I’d love to continue trials with you.”

“It was my pleasure. I’d be happy to help.”

He tried to take off his wrist remote before you stopped him, “You can hang on to that. I have all your data on mine. It would be good for my research if you got used to the overlays outside of here. I don’t want to assume your time, but I think it may be helpful in assisting you with your duties.”

Konig shifts in his spot, “I don’t want anything to happen to it.”

You smile at him, pleased he’s being so respectful of your work. “Don’t worry. If you manage to damage it, then it’s not good enough for launch. Even breaking it will be valuable research.”

He considers this before hesitantly dropping his arm.

You continue, “Just promise you’ll share your thoughts with me. I don’t know what the life of a soldier is like, I don’t always know what’s best for you guys. Your feedback will be important in tailoring the design to fit your needs. It’s just a prototype, so you can be honest.”

His eyes stare down at you from under his hood and you can’t help but avoid his intimidating gaze by looking at the black paint around his eyes.

“I promise,” He says definitively and it’s obvious he means it.

You have his word.

——————————————————————

Back in the lab, you take a deep breath as you set your prototypes down. You had parted ways with Konig at the shoot house and haven’t been able to stop thinking about him.

You take the ear piece and remove the chip from the prototype gun in order to transfer the data to your laptop. You had a long night ahead of you reviewing footage and analyzing the AI results, but you knew your focus was going to be elsewhere.

You hoped your distracted thoughts would subside after eating an early dinner and watching an episode of your most recent show binge, but it doesn’t help.

You can’t stop thinking about the soldier with a laugh so wonderful you’d do about anything to hear it again.

You did your best to stay on task and turned your attention to your laptop, opening the software you designed to store its data.

It finally loads and what displays makes you gasp, your hand instinctively shooting up to cover your mouth.

Konig’s feed is still live.

Your eyes dart over to your ear piece, confirming it’s turned off. He couldn’t hear you on the comm. His overlay projection is turned off, but he must not have powered the unit completely down, and you neglected to end the feed.

You still don’t dare make a sound. You sit frozen, staring down at the screen with wide eyes.

He’s not wearing the headset, no. You can tell the camera is sitting on something at hip-height, maybe a table or a bed. Definitely not Konig-height. You can’t see much, your view is facing the wall of what you can tell is a modest-sized room.

It’s five-thirty now, you guess he’s clocked out and went back to his quarters for the evening.

This is so wrong.

You were violating his privacy. You should just disconnect the feed now, and forget about it.

You should.

But you don’t.

Instead you slowly lower your hands, lips pursed. It’s not long before Konig comes in to view.

The only thing he has on is a towel wrapped around his waist. His head was cropped out of view, but you can see his chest and his pecs are as chiseled as you had imaged them. Abs you hadn’t previously considered begging for your attention. The towel is dangerously low and goddamnit he’s got V lines, of course he does, and you can feel the warmth pool in your lower abdomen again.

This is so so wrong.

You should end it. End the feed, end the software, end the project. You’ve already crossed so many lines and if anyone found out about this you’d be discharged so fast it would make your head spin.

You’re seriously considering if it’s worth being outed as a pervert and forfeiting your grant just to ogle at the ultimate beefcake while Konig gets comfortable on his cot, face still out of frame. You’ve got a view of his side now, showcasing the middle of his chest down. You can see the definition on his abdominal muscles and you silently thank yourself for opting for choosing the higher resolution camera for your project.

He moves his arms out of frame once he gets the towel adjusted, you’re assuming to prop them behind his head.

He lays still for a few minutes, and you wish you could see his face. You were almost done talking yourself into closing the feed when his arm comes back in to view. Strong hands and forearms followed by massive biceps.

Your breath hitches again when you realize he’s reaching down for the towel. He unwraps it delicately, letting each end hang off the side of the bed.

He’s fully naked now, and it’s official-

You’re a pervert.

His cock sits at half attention and he wraps his hands around it, stroking it absentmindedly.

Oh, fuck.

Your mouth hangs slack and you can’t help but let out a squeak. You double check to make sure you’re still in your software and didn’t somehow accidentally open PornHub. But no, you were definitely watching Konig rut into his hand, teasing himself to arousal.

It doesn’t take long for his cock to reach full attention, leaking precum from the swollen tip. Even scaled next to his oversized hands you can tell it’s huge.

He reaches down to cup his balls briefly before returning to his shaft, wrapping his hand around it and stroking gently.

You can’t stop watching now- you’re locked in, eyes glued to the screen and you don’t think you’ve so much as blinked this entire time.

You watch as he picks up the pace, biceps flexing as he fucks his hand faster.

A low moan comes through the speakers of your laptop. You scramble for the volume controls, reducing it until you were sure no one passing by in the hall could hear.

It’s addicting, his moans. Deep and gravely and you can’t help but close your eyes and imagine what it would be like for him to be moaning in your ear instead of over a screen. For him to be fucking you instead of his hand. Moaning like he’s approaching a release he hasn’t felt in decades.

When you open your eyes again he’s stroking faster, his whole body tensing, a glossy shine forming on his defined muscles. You can’t help but stare at his bicep as it flexes to jerk his cock.

Even without seeing his face, you can tell he’s getting close.

His cock is a blur as he pumps vigorously. His breath quickens before suddenly hitching, muscles fully clenched as he comes, the first few drops landing on his stomach and thighs.

His whole body constricts as the waves of the pleasure wash over him. You can tell it’s intense.

His pumping slows and his seed spills over his knuckles and down his shaft as he squeezes out the last of it, quivering at the sensitivity.

His muscles relax and he sinks back into his cot, wiping his hand on the towel. He lays still for a few moments, the sound of him catching his breath and his rising and falling chest takes stage. Until he removes the towel from underneath him, wiping away his mess.

You’re staring, eyes wider than when you started. Your knuckles lighten as you grip the stool beneath you. It wasn’t the finish that shocked you, no.

Not the size of the load that spilled from his huge cock.

Not the way he had bucked his hips, desperate for the touch.

Not the way his muscles had rippled through the phases of orgasm.

You were shocked because as he finished;

Konig had moaned your name.

Part two

[somanyratsinthewalls]

Burning Hearts Chapter 19

Pairing: Law x Straw Hat Zoan Type (named) OC 

Summary: You’ve spent a year with Law and the Heart Pirates now. Law is still pressing to unlock the full capabilities of your devil fruit powers as a mythical loan type, but you’ve got other things on your mind. You’ve uncovered Law’s plan to kill Doflamingo, but you’ve resigned to stop him and accept the way things are meant to be. He needs you. Your heart lies half with Law, but half at home with the Straw Hats. 

+18 CONTENT! SMUT! MINORS BEGONE!

Taglist: @zoros-fourth-sword @cottoncandyloverrrr @airwolf92 @nothing-but-brass @tuskjohnny

WC: 4200 This should have been two chapters but idk I'm the author.

Burning Hearts Chapter 19: Finally

— — 

You couldn’t sleep that night. You had spent a year here with Law and his crew. How could you keep the secret that he was planning to abandon his own crew to take on Doflamingo alone? It was surely destined to fail… as strong as he was, you knew he was no match for the dangerous warlord. 

You tossed and turned until the sun rose and you threw the comforter off your body in defeat. You had to meet Law for training. You couldn’t let him know you knew about his plans… not yet. You didn’t know what to say. Do you try to convince him to stay? Do you tell the rest of the crew and have them join you in your efforts?

Law was so stubborn. He’s changed his mind less times than you could count on two hands. 

*knock knock*

You hopped out of bed and scurried to check the peephole in your door. It was Law. You suck in an anxious breath. 

You let him in. 

“Hi.” You say shyly as you close the door behind him. 

“Hi back.” He says with a slight smile. 

You try to return the smile but fail to look in his eyes. You backpedal a few feet and lean against the back of your bed. 

“So…. What’s up?” You ask as he stands awkwardly in your room. 

“I.. was wondering if you wanted to take the Tang out with me tomorrow night? Just us? Like… a date, maybe?” Law took a step towards you and placed a gentle, cold hand on your waist. 

“I… yeah sure.. should I pack anything?” You flinch involuntarily and he recoils his hand. You still haven’t made eye contact, keeping your eyes at Law’s chest level. 

“Probably just an overnight bag…” Law takes his free hand and tilts your chin up softly so you can meet his gaze. “You okay?” He asks. 

“Yeah, just didn’t sleep well.” You lie. “Makes me kind of jumpy, I guess.” You feign a laugh, obvious to both you and Law that it was artificial. 

“We don’t have to go out tomorrow, we can do it some other time-“

“No! It’s okay.” You respond quickly, not wanting to draw more attention to your distraction. “I have a bunch of work in the garden to get done. So I would have to skip training today in order to finish in time to go out tomorrow…” You couldn’t help but at least try to give yourself an out. You move over to your desk and start putting on your apron and grabbing your gardening tools. 

“That’s fine.… well I’m going to be gone tonight but I’ll have the snail if you need me. I’ll pick you up tomorrow when the sun’s down, I should be back by then.” Law tries to push past your skeptical tone. 

“Where are you going.” You state firmly, finally make eye contact with Law and you stop shuffling through your gardening gear. You straighten your back and look deep into his grey eyes. 

“I have a meeting.” Law swallows. “World government stuff.” Law’s eyes flick to the floor, to the east wall of your room, then back to your harsh gaze. 

“Hmm.” You huff. Should you bring it up now? What was even the point? He’d never abandon his plan for you, so you probably shouldn’t bother. He was trying to be sweet… ask you out for a late night submarine trip alone… but he was still lying to you. You could tell. 

Love had been clouding your judgement- no, lust? It wasn’t love. You barely knew him, you were realizing now. Lust had been blinding you to the fact that Law only cared about his own goal. A man that cared about you wouldn’t haul his ass to a foreign country to let himself get brutally murdered after abandoning his lover and his loyal crew… you knew that much. 

There was an uncomfortable silence. 

A dry, choking feeling crept up your throat. You couldn’t show him that you knew.. he couldn’t know that you were upset… not yet. You sniffed, swiped your face with your hand to fake an innocent runny nose. 

“Right well, see you tomorrow then. I have to get to work. Have fun at your meeting.” You usher Law out of your room and close the door behind the two of you. You start walking quickly down the hall with your gardening tools in your arms before he could notice the tears welling in your eyes. 

“Yeah. Tomorrow, then.” Law mumbles as you walk away. 

But unbeknownst to you, of course Law had seen the tears.

— —  

You toiled away all day in the garden. Winter was here but you still had potatoes and winter melons to tend to along with the hardy evergreen plants. You threw yourself into your work to take your mind off of Law. Things had been so good until you discovered his plans to invade Dressrosa and the finality of your ‘relationship’ had become so real in your mind. 

The outdoor plants were fed and happy so you retreated to the shed where your prized plants were kept warm against the elements with heat lamps and hydroponic irrigation (a complicated system that Penguin had helped you set up). 

You spend the next hour or so trimming your marijuana plants and didn’t notice the sun setting outside the frost covered greenhouse windows. You reach inside your jumpsuit pocket and retrieve your rolling papers. 

You sigh and slide down against the shed’s wooden wall in a damp corner of your makeshift greenhouse. You roll yourself a joint as carefully as possibly with shaking, anxious hands. 

With trembling hands, you placed the joint between your chapped lips and fished out your butane lighter. You looked down and ran your thumb over the lighter’s gold engravings, and smiled weakly remembering the thoughtful crew mate who had gifted it to you years ago now. 

You push down the pangs of remembrance and light the joint. You take a long drag and let your head fall back against the wall. 

You exhale and catch yourself letting out a sob. You bring your hand to cover your nose and mouth, trying to keep it all in. Tears stream down your cheeks and slip over your fingers like water in a creek after a heavy rain. 

The door creaked open. 

“Hey… D? Are you in here? People are eating dinner and wondering where you are…” Ikkaku’s voice comes from the doorway. 

*sniff*

Ikkaku scans the shed and finds you clutching your knees to your chest in the corner, obviously crying. 

“Oh, honey…” Ikkaku’s curly hair bounces behind her as she rushes over to you and squats down next to your huddled form. “What’s wrong?” She reaches out to push your grey streak of hair out of your eyes gently. 

“What the fuck am I doing?” You manage to choke out after removing your hand from your mouth. You lean into Ikkaku’s chest and sob harder. She pulls you close into her arms. 

“It’s okay… let it out…” 

Ikkaku lets you cry violently into her body for several minutes until she finally pulls you back and wipes snot from your nose with the off-white sleeve of her jumpsuit. 

“Now what did he do this time? I thought he was taking you out tomorrow night?” 

“I-I can’t go.. it’s too much.. I’m leaving soon….” You whisper between sniffles. 

“Soon? In a year?” She cocks her head and asks. 

You nod. 

“Baby that’s then, this is now. Love has never had a place in the New World. It’s the shitty nature of it all. You’re going to have to make a choice. Do you want to just be happy for a year and then miserable forever, or miserable forever starting now?” Ikkaku tries to dry your cheeks the best she can with one hand as she strokes your back with the other. 

You cry harder at the thought of making that choice. 

“Just go with him. If he’s asking you to go, it’s because he needs you.”

You look up through wet eyelashes at your friend and weakly nod. 

“T-thank you…” 

“Any time. Now finish up in here and I’ll bring dinner to your room. I don’t need all those nosy ass boys gossiping about why you’re upset.” 

— — 

The Next Day…

You leaned with your forehead against the steamy shower tile fore awhile. Ikkaku’s words rang in your ears. “Do you want to be happy for a year and then miserable forever, or miserable forever starting now?” 

All you wanted more than anything in the world was to give yourself fully to Law, body and mind… but you couldn’t stop that gnawing feeling in your gut about the heartbreak you’ll inevitably receive hearing about his death. You had to push it aside as much as you knew it would hurt one day. But Ikkaku was right, you would regret it for the rest of your life if you didn’t see how far this could go. 

With a sigh you finished shaving your legs and trimming everything else, washed off the remaining body wash and turned off the scalding water. Steam radiated off your damp skin as you stepped out of the shower stall. 

You dried off and applied your favorite vanilla cashmere lotion all over your freshly smooth skin. As apprehensive as you were… he did refer to it as a date after all…

You got dressed in something cozy, not wanting to doll up too much due to the cold, and packed a small bag of overnight essentials. You tossed in your hair brush, tooth brush, fresh underwear and leggings, and an ornate cigarette case full of rolled joints and your butane lighter. 

You wave bye to Ikkaku and Penguin on your way out, Ikkaku giving you a sympathetic, comforting smile. 

You push open the heavy metal door to the base and pull the hood of your sweatshirt up to keep the brisk air from nipping at your ears. You could easily fly to where Law asked you to meet him and be there in a quarter of the time, but for your mind was telling you to walk. You trudged through the frozen field to the dock and cleared your head with each fall of your boots. 

— — 

Eventually you made it to the dock where indeed the large yellow submarine was anchored and waiting for you. You flitted up to the top deck and let yourself in the door. You slinked through the metal corridors of the ship and ended up at the control room. 

You knock twice but open the door immediately, feeling anxious. 

Law was standing with his back to you the same clothes he was wearing when he left. He turned upon hearing you open the door. He drops his hands from the wheel of the ship and stepped towards you. 

“Hey..” He sighs out softly as he starts to smile tiredly. You see that the bags under his eyes were even darker than usual. He looked exhausted. Law lifted his arms weakly towards you. You instinctively throw yourself into his embrace. One hand wrapped around your torso tightly while the other immediately went to grip the back of your head to pull you closely into him. You could tell how much he really did need you right now. 

Oh gods! You were so selfish! All you were worried about was your own inevitable heartbreak that you didn’t even think about how taxing this whole thing would be on Law. Bringing up so much past trauma and so many bad memories compounded with the thoughts of his own mortality… you almost teared up at the idea of him struggling with his feelings alone. 

“Missed you…” Law mumbled into your neck after giving it a quick kiss and a nuzzle. 

“Gods… must have been some meeting… you look like shit…” You say softly, still caught in his tight embrace. Law chuckles. 

“You could have said something like ‘I missed you too.’”

“I know I could have. I said what I said.” You smiled as you pulled back so you could look at his tired face. You cup his cheek gently. “Let’s just get out of here.” 

— — 

You look curiously at the abyssal ocean out of the Tang’s front windows as Law had been piloting the ship for some minutes now. Occasionally you see a fish or eel skittering out of the way in the dim blue light coming from the submarine’s windows illuminating the surrounding water. 

“So where exactly are we going?” You asked without turning away from the bay windows. 

“Nowhere.” Law responds before you hear different knobs and switches being turned and flipped behind you. 

“I beg your finest pardon?” You ask as you turn towards Law and rise to your feet. 

Law steps toward you and brushes your hair over your ear before kissing you gently. 

“I’m tired of everything getting in the way. No one can bother us out here.” Law leans back in to kiss your lips more firmly this time. You put your hands on his chest. 

“So you’re planning on wooing me at the bottom of the ocean?” You cock your head. 

“At this point it seemed like the only option… that or maybe the moon…” Law leans in again but this time kisses your jaw and down your neck. You huff out a laugh.

“And who is going to be piloting the ship while you’re indisposed?” You ask.

“It’s on auto-pilot, obviously.” Law remarks as he runs his hand through your hair. 

“Okay okay lover boy, you need to go clean up and change first.” You pull yourself from his grasp.

Law rolled his eyes. “No no, come on, off you go.” You turn him by his shoulder and push him towards the door to the hallway. “I’ll wait in your room, I promise.” You smile softly as you both enter the ship’s main hall. You playfully push him off to the bathroom and you turn to your right and enter the captain’s quarters. 

The captain’s chambers on the tang were a mirror image to his bedroom at the base. A rough hewn wooden desk was surrounded by bookshelves along the walls, the surface of the desk messily covered in papers. On the opposite side of the bedroom was a queen sized bed fitted with navy sheets and a quilt, made with surgical poison. The only difference from Law’s room at the base was the large windows that allowed for a fine surveillance of the ocean floor on the starboard side of the ship. 

You slipped off your sweatshirt over your head and dropped it to the floor. In just your sports bra and leggings, you flop onto Law’s bed on your stomach and gaze at the sea life floating around the windows. You notice a family of seahorses in a row frolicking across the sea floor and smile. So cute the little ones were as they followed their father in a neat row… You rolled onto your back and grabbed your cigarette case out of your pocket. 

You curled your feet up onto the bed and lit a joint. You laid back fully on the bed and watched the fish swim past as you smoked. You had no idea how much time passed, but you were down to half your marijuana cigarette. The door to the bedroom swings open. 

“I had a feeling you’d be doing that.” Law comes in with jeans hung low on his wait and ruffles a white towel through his wet hair before throwing it towards his desk. 

“A submarine ride is far more enjoyable under the influence, I’ve learned.” You smile and sit up and cross your legs. 

Law smirks. “I can’t argue with that.” Law walks towards his desk. He pulls out a drawer and roots around for a moment before fishing out a bottle of whiskey and two glasses. He sets them on his desk and uncorks the whiskey. He pours two hefty glasses before bringing them over to you on his bed. He hands you one. 

“Is this technically sailing while under the influence?” You remark as you take the glass from Law’s outstretched hand. 

“I’ve violated several world government laws in the last few hours… I don’t think this one matters that much.” Law clinks his glass with yours. 

You outstretch your hand that contained the half joint. “A little? One puff?” You goad Law. 

“After what happened last time and I thought I had to switch my breathing from automatic to manual?” Law raises an eyebrow. 

“That was over 100 milligrams of straight herb, this is just a hit. I promise you’ll be fine.” You gesture the lit joint towards Law again. 

Law rolls his eyes and takes the joint form your soft fingertips. He inhales and passes it back to you.

“Wow, if you could see yourself a year ago…” You chuckle. Law exhales a large cloud of smoke and takes a swig of his whiskey. 

“Shut up.” 

“Make me.” You playfully retort and take a sip of your drink. It burns your throat but it helps you push the feelings of anxiety aside. For tonight it would just be you and Law. 

Silence goes by again and you snuff out the joint. 

“Daisy… I need to tell you something…” Law says as he turns his body fully towards you, his eyes still on the rocks glass in his hand. 

“Oh?” You inquire… knowing he’s going to tell you of his plan to kill Doflamingo and you were going to have to act surprised, how the hell were you supposed to-

“I love you.” 

The world stopped. You pick up your head and look at Law in the eye, suddenly incredibly sober. What did he say?

“W-what-“ You manage to get out, but it sounded more like a cough. 

“I love you, Daisy. I-I don’t know how else to tell you how I feel I just.. you don’t have to say anything back, I just-“ Law stutters out after seeing your shocked expression. He shuffles closer to you on the bed and places his hand on your cheek. You weren’t even remotely prepared to hear that phrase from Law’s lips… shit, anyone’s lips, as long as you were alive. He was being foolish… he couldn’t possibly mean it..

“Love me enough to stay away from Dressrosa?” You spit out without thinking. 

Law’s tender hand recoils from your face. 

“W-wha-“ 

You grab his hand and return it to your cheek. 

“I know I can’t convince you to stay… I just want you to stop hiding it from me…” You say as you nuzzle your blush-tinted nose into the warlord’s cold palm. 

“Y-you know…” Law whispers.

“I do. I don’t want to talk about it right now. We have a long time, don’t we?” You smile and press a kiss against Law’s lips. 

“W-we do… Daisy I… I do love you… I don’t know what else to say… I’m sorry…” Law says as he presses his forehead against yours and paws at your hips. You could almost swear you saw a wet twinkling in his eyes. 

“I love you too, Law.” You say softly up at him, unsure of the words even as they left your lips… but they felt so natural. It felt foreign. You bring your fingertips up to your lips to try and even believe that you said it out loud.

You lay back against the pillows and pull Law on top of you with your arms around his shoulders. “I want you, Law.” 

Law flops a bit clumsily on top of you. 

“A-are you sure?” He asks. 

“Yes.” You say confidently. “Please make love to me.” You grasp his hat and toss if off to the side of the bed before pulling him into a searing kiss. Law returns the kiss by slipping his hot tongue into your eager mouth and letting your head fall fully against the pillow behind you. 

Law kisses down your jaw as he pushes his hands under your torso to remove your bra. Once discarded, he pulls down your leggings and leaves them on the floor with the rest of your clothes, leaving you fully exposed. 

Law leans back and sucks in a breath as he sees your naked form before him. He freezes in place. 

“And you?” You chide as you pull at the button of his jeans. 

Law snaps out of his trance. 

“R-right.” Law undoes his pants and pulls them down swiftly along with his briefs so that you could both finally see each other bare. He approaches you again on the bed and strokes your thigh, not looking you in the eyes. 

“Wow…” You couldn’t help but remark. 

“I-it’s alright?” Law asks nervously. 

“It’s more than alright.” You couldn’t help but chuckle as Law’s impressively large member bobbed eagerly in front of you. You swallowed at the thought of that fitting inside of you… not having anything bigger than a single finger for several years. “I-I just might need a little help…” You smile and grab at Law’s wrist. You bring his trembling hand to your sex, encouraging him to touch you further. 

“Right… of course…” Law returns to his analytical self as he begins to stroke up and down your naked slit with two fingers, warming you up to his intimate touch. You shudder a bit at his cold hands, but you warm to them quickly as you feel Law’s tender touch grip your breast with his other hand. After a few moments of rubbing through your wet folds, Law inserts his fingers inside of you with precision, like he had been preparing for this very moment. 

“Oh!” You gasp out. 

Law pinches your nipple in one hand while he gently taps into your sweet spot with the other. He stretches your walls delicately and gently while he slowly coaxes more wetness from your insides with his fingers. 

“Shit, Law-“ You groan in pleasure and grip Law by the hair on the back of his neck with both hands, bringing his head close to you. He grunts and begins to place messy kisses down the column of your throat. “F-faster… honey please…” You beg as you buck your hips into Law’s precise touch. Law obliges and pulls his fingers into your g-spot firmly and quickly, you feel the pressure of your orgasm built faster than you were anticipated. 

“Law, I’m- I’m-Fuck-“ You cry out as you reach your peak. 

“Yes, give it to me…” Law presses his face into yours and captures your lips in a needy kiss as you release all over his waiting palm. Chilly doctors fingers finally warmed by your insides, he pulls himself from you slowly. You breath heavily as you come down from your high, giggling slightly as you relax your head on the pillows of Law’s bed. 

“Good , b-baby?” Law awkwardly asks, realizing he’s going to now be asked to perform for the main event. 

“Yes… but I want you now. Please…” You grab further down Law’s back trying to pull him up over you fully. He shifts in compliance with your touch so your hips are aligned. “I can take it…” You whisper as you sign Law’s weeping cock up with your entrance. You couldn’t believe this was really happening… but you knew this was what you wanted…

“Y-your legs are shaking… are you sure? We don’t have-“ Law stutters out as he unconsciously rubs his head against your soaked pussy. 

“I want this. I want you.” You assure him. “Just do it.” 

Law nods. 

He pushes into you fully to the hilt in one swift motion. 

“Ahhh-“ Law groans the instant he feels your wet walls wrapped around him. 

“Fuck-“ You cry out, not fully physically or mentally prepared to have a man inside of you or on top of you again, regardless of who it was. You slam your eyes shut and your body goes rigid. Law senses your change in demeanor. 

“O-open your eyes. It’s just me.” Law whispers down at you as he supports himself on his arms above you. “It’s just us…” 

You open your eyes. 

Seeing Law gaze at you with such adoration and lust, all insecurities and past anxieties melted away in his ice crew eyes. You bring up your hand and cup Law’s jaw. 

“I love you, Law…” You whisper. 

“I love you too, Daisy.” Law replies as he gently pulls himself out of you and begins to tentatively thrust his hips. “So much…” His eyes move from your mismatched ones to where his cock was settled inside of you. “Shit-“ 

“Oh, fuck, Law…” You moan at the feeling of his thick length sliding in and out of your tender walls.

“I-I can’t last…” Law stutters out, embarrassed. 

“That’s okay…” You reassure your anxious lover and stroke his back. 

“Fuck!” Law quickly removes himself from you and you gasp at the sudden absence of sensation. You crane your neck down and see that Law gas empties himself all over your stomach, ropes of cum shooting so far that it decorated the underside of your breasts. 

Law collapses on top of you, sandwiching his own spend between the two of you but not caring enough to move. Law rolls out of you, pulling you into his chest without cleaning of either of your messes. 

You laid in his embrace for a long time, just enjoying the feeling of his sharp breaths and sweaty skin against yours. This man loved you, and you loved him… and so it shall be… until the end of things…

— — 

*A/N* WOOOO THEY DID IT! 19 CHAPTERS LATER!!! THANKS FOR STAYING ALONG FOR THE RIDE YALL! It’s gonna get angsty in the next chapter ugh I’m sorry guys… but enjoy the sexy time and the fun while we’re here! I promise there will be better smut in the future this was just their cutie pie first time :)

[unabashedcandymaker]

Uncertain 02

Summary: Pregnancy progresses, and while your relationship stays strong in the beginning, the dynamics start as the pregnancy progresses.

Warnings: self-doubt, depression, anxiety, general not great feelings

Words: 5.6 k

Natasha x Reader x Bucky

Uncertain 01 / Uncertain Masterlist

Less than a week later, you’re in the med bay, flanked by both Natasha and Bucky, lying on your back, knees spread, waiting for the doctor to finish with the ultrasound. 

Seeing as how you were the first person to be carrying the progeny of a super soldier, the very best OBGYN in the world had been brought in just for you. A whole new wing has been added to the med bay now too. The idea had been to keep everything ‘in house’ until they had an idea of what to expect with this pregnancy.

Not that it mattered to you one way or the other. Natasha was grateful for the preparations and that there would always be someone close by if anything happens. Bucky, on the other hand, grumbled about letting the government have their hand in your very personal, very private ordeal. But, he didn’t really mind as long as you were ok with it.

You were an anxious mess regardless, trying your best to focus on the grainy image on the big screen tv that was attached to the ultrasound machine. Nat squeezes your hand, and you look up to her to see her giving you a reassuring smile. She was excited. You and Bucky were more reserved, but it did nothing to dampen her spirits. Her brilliant green eyes were shining as they moved between your face and the screen.

It was easy for you to get caught up in the moment with her. You didn’t have to force the smile on your face when you looked back too. You reach your other hand over your head in the general direction where Bucky was brooding, and was greeted with his warm hand engulfing yours, fingers interlocking, his thumb stroking your wrist.

“And here’s your baby. Let me take some measurements and we can get a more approximate idea of how far along you are,” the doctor says as she points to the peanut-shaped blob right in the middle of the screen. “Looks like you’re a little further along than we expected. I’m getting about 9 weeks. Which means that maybe, let me just see here, maybe we can…oh yeah, here we go…”

And breath is sucked out of your body when a rushed whooshing noise fills the room. You know what it is even before the doctor tells you.

“...there’s the baby’s heartbeat.”

Natasha is squeezing your hand harder, holding it to her chest, and you can feel Bucky shift behind you, releasing your hand so he can lean down to kiss your forehead. His fingers stroke your hair, never breaking contact as he looks up at the screen again.

The doctor is printing out a long line of pictures, makes a couple notes in your chart, and then is cleaning you up.

“Everything looks great. Mama and baby both look healthy and everything appears to be as expected at this stage. I don’t see anything abnormal or that would be a cause for concern. Your hormone levels look normal. I know it’s too early to say, but I don’t see anything here or in the bloodwork that would indicate this would be unlike any other normal and healthy pregnancy.

“But with that being said, I’d like to see you again in two weeks. I'd also like to repeat the bloodwork then too. Just to be on the safe side. Please don’t hesitate to call me if you have any questions or concerns. This is my personal cell phone and home number,” she says as she hands you a card that Bucky promptly takes and puts in his back pocket with a nod. “I’m on call 24/7. You are my only patient until we deliver this baby. So believe me when I tell you I am being very sincere. Please. Call me with anything. It has been a pleasure to meet all of you. I’ll give you the room and you can let yourselves out whenever you’re ready.”

And for the next few months, everything has been great. Natasha has been over the moon. Even her normally stoic demeanor when working with the team has been a little softer, a little less scary. 

Sam and Steve have been the only ones brave enough to tease her, and she only replies with a smile in kind. ‘How could I not be so happy. Look how perfect my life is.’

But when she’s in the privacy of your home, she’s a wildfire. She consumes you, every bit of you, every chance she gets. Always touching you, always seeking you out, craving your closeness.

She’s also obsessed with making sure you are eating enough and eating well, but also indulging every single craving. Bucky has fussed at her more than once for it, but it hasn’t stopped her yet. You want ice cream at 3 am, you best damn well believe that she’s already on her way to get you your ice cream. She helps you remember your vitamins and to drink plenty of water, quick to chime in with the, ‘no, my love, that has too much caffeine. Maybe I could make you this tea instead.’

She dotes on you constantly. Everyday that she’s home, she’s making your breakfast, bringing you lunch to your desk at work, sneaking in extra snacks in case you get hungry later. That part wasn’t unusual to happen before the pregnancy, but now she’s made it part of her daily routine. She’s made it her mission to spend as much time as physically possible by your side.

And you won't deny, you absolutely love it. 

And Bucky. Your poor, sweet, hopelessly overwhelmed Bucky. He hasn’t figured out what to do with himself. Right after the first doctor’s appointment, he bought a dozen different pregnancy and baby books, and threw himself full force into reading them all as quickly as possible. Every morning he greets you with a sweet kiss and a new fact he’s learned concerning the development of your baby. 

“Did you know the baby can open and close her hands?”

“The baby can sense light and soon, it’ll even be able to taste...how wild is that?!?”

He spends a majority of his time brooding just like before, but the further you progress with this pregnancy, the more relaxed and comfortable he becomes, and dare you say, he may even be getting excited. Which is refreshing as you are officially starting to experience symptoms of your pregnancy other than morning sickness. 

But when you’re in public, his attitude is wildly unpredictable. Sometimes, he’s constantly following you around, hovering over your shoulder, throwing threatening glares at anyone who might try to come too close. Other times he’s so soft and gentle, like you’re made of glass and may break if you overexert yourself. He’s always got you in his line of sight whenever physically possible. If he’s in the building, you may not be able to see him, but you better not doubt that he can see you. 

You love the predatory behavior just a little less, but you appreciate it all the same. It’s his way of showing you he cares.

In the bedroom is where you’ve noticed the biggest change. 

Bucky barely touches you. It’s almost like he’s afraid to. He’s too soft, too hesitant. And it doesn’t matter what the pregnancy books say, or how many times you try to assure him that everything is fine, that he shouldn’t handle you any differently, he only ever gives you a small smile, kisses you on the forehead. Sometimes he will pull you into a hug, and although he never says anything, you can tell he is silently dismissing the conversation. You never want to push him or make him uncomfortable, so you always let it go, chalking it up as an unpleasant side effect.

The biggest change in the relationship comes after you first start showing. It happens around the 5 month mark, just a couple days before your next ultrasound appointment. 

It’s Sunday morning and you’re all three lounging on the couch, your head in Bucky’s lap, your body lying on the length of the couch, while Natasha is laid between your legs, her cheek resting on your belly, her hand rubbing lazily along the slight swell. Everyone’s quiet and you’re even on the verge of a nap when suddenly, Nat is jumping from her spot up to her knees, hands held up in front of her, a wild look on her face. She’s starting at your belly for a long couple seconds before her eyes dart up to yours. 

“What...I...did she just...I think I felt her move…” Natasha whispers as she stares down at your belly again. 

You giggle and relax back into Bucky’s lap, reaching both your hands out for hers. She’s slow to comply, but eventually does. You take her wrists and push her hands under your shirt, her palms flat on your stomach. Your hands cover hers and you’re moving them around, trying to find the spot where you feel the baby kick the most. 

You settle and hold her hands still, just watching her face as she’s staring at your intertwined hands. Then, her eyes light up again when she feels the baby move again. 

“You feel that?” She asks in wonder. 

“All the time,” you smile, relishing in her excitement as she lowers her body back into the couch, her hands still planted firmly on the spot you put them. Her face is inches from your belly and she’s whispering something you can’t hear, but she’s delighted when she can feel the baby bump against her hands again. 

“You wanna feel?” You ask, looking up to Bucky who looks like he’s frowning from this angle. 

“Maybe later. Don’t wanna impose on her moment,” he says with the smallest smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, as he jerks his head to Natasha who is clearly having the time of her life as the baby keeps pushing up against her hand over and over again. 

Something about his reaction feels off and it’s almost unnerving, but you push it to the back of your mind as Nat starts with rapid fire questions.

‘What does it feel like?’

Like I have gas. 

‘How long have you been able to feel it?”

I don’t know, a couple weeks maybe?

‘Why didn’t you say something sooner?’

Lord, Tash, I don’t know, cause of this?

‘When is she most active?’

When I’m trying to sleep mostly. 

There’s a dozen more questions, and you answer each with what’s left of your patience as you try to close your eyes. All the while, Bucky sits above you, still as a statue, his blank expression giving nothing away as you relax into his lap again. 

At your 20 week appointment, during the anatomy scan, all three of you are surprised to find out that the baby is a boy!

All this time, you and Natasha were so sure it was a girl. It felt like a girl. The image in your head was a girl. But you’re not disappointed in the least, as the image starts shifting to a little mini version of Bucky, with deep, blue eyes and shaggy dark hair.

The image on the screen in front of you is a strong, healthy, active, and quite large baby boy. Absolutely perfect and healthy in every single way. 

“You’re measuring a few weeks ahead of gestation age, but that’s nothing to worry about just yet. Maybe start taking it a little easier at work. Might be a good time to start to lighten the load at work. Maybe also not physically exerting yourself too much. As I’ve said, nothing to worry about, you’ll be able to feel it when it’s uncomfortable. Just don’t push it,” the doctor assured. 

So with a clean bill of health, you leave the office. Bucky beaming like the proud papa he is, staring down at the new ultrasound image, but isn’t offering you much else besides a bashful smile and a sweet kiss to your temple. 

Natasha wants to celebrate. She’s insisting on throwing a party, and wants to invite everyone in the compound so she can express her excitement with everyone that means anything to her. 

You’re not sure how you manage, but you and Bucky talk her into a quiet dinner at home instead. She’s not especially thrilled about it, but she relents when you promise she can be in charge of decorating the nursery anyway she likes; total artistic freedom. 

And everything still continues to be fine. 

Your belly has started to become more noticeable every passing day. You’ve long since stopped being able to fit into your regular clothes, finally surrendering yourself to pick up a few new outfits from the maternity store. Natasha is unbelievably excited to help, throwing shirts and pants and dresses and skirts over the door of the changing room. 

It’s not long after that she sneaks into your dressing room and makes you come twice as she presses you against the wall.

And she continues to be as affectionate as she’s always been, if not even more so. 

But Bucky has just about pulled away from you completely…at least he has physically. It happened so slowly that you weren’t really sure it was happening at all until he stopped joining you and Nat in your bedtime activities almost every night. There’s always an excuse why he can’t come to bed just yet with you, opting to wait until you’re already fast asleep before crawling under the blankets and pressing himself into your back.

You know he still loves you, he shows you that everyday. He still kisses you good morning and goodnight. He occasionally drops by to intimidate all of your coworkers. He still laughs at all your stupid jokes and does all those little things he’s always done to show you he still cares. 

But he won’t touch you anymore, not like he used to. He’s careful not to touch your belly and it’s been too long since you’ve been intimate with him.

And every single day, you try to tell yourself that it’s not you, that everything’s fine, everything’s normal. This is all in your head. 

But also with every day that passes, it’s getting harder. 

All those insecurities you’d felt before you’d met Nat and Bucky, and even at the beginning of your relationship, and all your self-doubt starts to creep back in, whispering to you every single reason Bucky doesn’t want you anymore.

Every time he pulls away before you can deepen a kiss, the voices start to get a little bit louder. Every time you see his hands lingering on Natasha’s waist instead of yours, you sink a little further down. And on the several occasions you’ve walked in unexpectedly to see his dick sink deep, deep inside of her instead of you, you’re already so far gone that you can’t see the light anymore. 

Why won’t he touch you like that anymore?

Why doesn’t he hold you the way he holds her?

Does he not find you attractive anymore? 

How could he, have you seen yourself in the mirror lately?

Everyday it becomes more harrowing a task to push the repulsive thoughts away. 

Now, you agree with them. How could you not? They’re true. You have gained a lot of weight. 

Sure, the doctor says you're well within the healthy range, and it’s what is supposed to happen! This is healthy for the baby, right?

But you are unable to ignore them when you’re standing in front of the mirror, in the privacy of the guest bathroom, all by yourself. 

Suddenly, the light seems harsh and you can’t help but see everything that’s changed in the last few months. 

You aren’t sure how you let it get this far, but you’ve become so self-loathing that you can only see every extra pound you’ve gained and every horrifying, ugly stretch mark.

Your hips have widened. Your butt is bigger. Your boobs have started to swell and droop just slightly. Is one boob bigger than the other now?!? Even your face seems to be a bit chubbier. At 6 and a half months, these things were to be expected, sure, but you can’t stand it. 

Now that you see all the ways your body has changed, seeing what you believe he is seeing, you completely understand why Bucky doesn’t want to be intimate with you anymore.

So, it starts to feel almost natural that you should start shying away when Natasha tries to initiate intimacy. At first, she’s worried because you’ve never denied her before, you’ve never wanted to before, but she eventually brushes it off as a side effect of this later stage of your pregnancy. 

Your wardrobe starts changing along with your mood. All the cute maternity clothes you’d bought with Natasha six weeks ago have all been exchanged for overly large, shapeless sweaters and tee shirts; anything you can find that hides your baby belly. 

The time you used to spend cuddling on the couch, you now opt for the plush armchair across the room. Bucky furrows his brow, but doesn’t say anything. Natasha will try to persuade you to join them, making plenty of room for you to snuggle in between them, but that usually ends with you excusing yourself to the bedroom for the rest of the night. 

Then, you started changing in the bathroom where neither could see you. You started locking the door whenever you would shower, not wanting to risk them accidentally walking in and seeing you. 

They’ll be repulsed. 

And it’s not long after that that you start sleeping on the couch. Or in the guest bedroom that Natasha was slowly transitioning into the nursery. 

Both protest the first time it happened, but when you claim you’re too uncomfortable and need a little extra space, they let you do whatever you say you need to do. They both give you very disapproving glares when you snatch up your pillow and make your way out of your bedroom, but they never try to stop you.

Natasha is trying to spend all her free time with you, but you were soon finding excuses as to why you can’t anymore. You’d start staying later at your desk, claiming you had too much to do to prepare for your maternity leave, even though that would still be almost two months away.

But no matter how many times you tried to convince them otherwise, they both still insisted on going to all your doctor appointments with you. They were both still so incredibly into this baby. 

The appointments were becoming more frequent since you entered your third trimester. Instead of twice a month, you are being seen every week. And used to, the three of you would walk to the appointments together, but now, you worked right up until the last minute, meeting them in the doctor's office not a minute sooner than you had to. 

They both stand when you enter the room, each pressing a quick kiss to the top of your head, or your cheek, but you’d shrug away as you’d take your place on the exam table. Natasha, as always, looked like a kid on Christmas whenever she would hear the baby’s heartbeat. Bucky is always right there, his hand on your shoulder, smiling like a proud papa.

For these brief moments, your life would feel normal again, that everything was as it should be, especially when they’d look at you the way they are right now. But, as soon as the doctor walks out, the spell is broken. 

You’re coming up on the 34th week of your pregnancy, and you absolutely can not take any of this anymore. Your hormones are wreaking havoc on your mentality. Everything makes you cry; songs on the radio, tv shows, the fucking commercials about the dogs…EVERYTHING. 

And that’s not counting the physical changes. Your body has stretched to unbelievable proportions, and you feel like you’re looking into a funhouse mirror every time you accidentally catch a glimpse of your own reflection. Everything hurts no matter your position. You’re never comfortable. The baby has gotten so big now and he thinks your bladder is his own personal trampoline, causing you to run to the bathroom every 30 minutes.

And above all else, the icing on the cake to make everything so much worse, you miss Bucky and Natasha.

You HATE yourself for how much you miss them. 

You miss the way Bucky’s eyes would crinkle when he smiles at you first thing in the morning. You miss the way Natasha’s hands always felt so soft as she would cup your face when she’d kiss you. You missed their heat as you snuggled between the two of them every night. You missed the way the three of you used to fit so perfectly together. 

You used to think that it was going to be the three of you, forever. You used to think that there would be nothing that could have separated you from each other. 

Oh, how wrong you were. Turns out that this tiny baby, weighing no more than 6 pounds at this very moment, was just big enough to set your world on fire, destroying everything you ever loved.

A tiny nudge from the inside pulled you back. And crushing guilt was added to your already depressing episode. Of course the baby was not to blame for your crumbling relationship. You had nobody to blame for that but yourself. Because you weren’t enough anymore. You were never going to be enough ever again.

Unsure of how you managed to get here, you find yourself curled up as much as your belly will allow you to in the middle of the bed, clutching Natasha’s pillow to your chest as half your face is buried in Bucky’s. You don’t hear the front door open, so you don’t bother trying to hide the fact that you are full on sobbing as you were supposed to be home alone for the rest of the day; Natasha and Bucky both supposed to be at some training exercise off site.

And you can see them almost as perfectly as if they are standing in front of you now. Natasha, clad in compression capris and a sports bra, so firm and voluptuous, no doubt commanding everyone’s attention with her graceful movements and perfect form. 

And then Bucky, so tall and broad and handsome as he broods, but executing each drill with commanding force and precision. What a beautiful pair the two of them make. 

Maybe Nat is sending Buck a flirtatious wink from across the training area. Maybe he’s giving her that playful smirk. Maybe there’s some teasing touches, some witty banter. Maybe their hands linger on the other for a second or two longer than is necessarily polite. 

And you sob harder. 

Of course this was why Bucky wouldn’t want to touch you anymore. That’s what started all of this in the first place. Your body was changing and he didn’t find you attractive anymore. And who the hell would be compared to what a knock-out Natasha is at any given moment. 

And you know from experience exactly how beautiful she is. When you have someone like her, someone with such ethereal beauty that transcends all of space and time, how could anyone ever look at someone like you the same way? You only wonder how Bucky had ever found you attractive in the first place. 

God, they are going to be so much happier once they cut you loose and get you out of their way.

You imagine their life may go back to the way it was when they were together before, all those years ago, before you came along.

It takes a moment to register that someone’s in bed with you, curling themselves around your body under the cocoon you’ve made with the duvet. Your instinct is to pull away, but strong, slender arms only hold you tighter as you’re pulled closer.

“Please,” Natasha’s voice is in your ear, broken and small. “Please, don’t push me away anymore. It’s killing me.”

You can feel a shuddering breath as she inhales and it’s more painful than you'd ever imagined, to know that she’s hurting too. That you’ve been the one hurting her. 

“Talk to me, милая девушка (sweet girl). I can’t…'' Her voice definitely breaks this time and you can feel her sobs more than hear it. “I can’t be without you any longer. Tell me what I’ve done to hurt you.”

Oh no. Does she think she’s done something wrong? How do you begin to tell her how perfect she is? How could she ever think she had hurt you?

It’s you. You’re the problem. She has to know that. 

You have to tell her the truth. It’s the only way she will finally understand what you already know. 

You tell her everything, even though it hurts, but it would continue to hurt so much more if you didn’t.

She holds you close as the words mixed with broken sobs pour from your mouth. Every insecurity that has grown into a festering wound inside of you; every dark and sinister thought that whispers its vicious poison when you’re alone, filling your mind with darkness and pain; every self-deprecating realization that your only loves deserve far better than you. 

You lay it all bare and then you wait. You wait for her to tell you it’s all true and while they might still love you, you’ll never fit into their perfect little family anymore. 

When she lets you go, you know this is the beginning of the end. You know she’s pulling away. She’s going to walk away from you, this time forever…

But no, while she does release you, it’s only to crawl over your body so she can lay face-to-face with you. Her green eyes are red-rimmed as her own tears fall freely.

“I need you to understand something. I am always going to love you. I am always going to want you, whether you weigh 100 pounds or 300 pounds or even 500 pounds. It doesn’t matter to me if you wake up tomorrow morning, having developed elephantitis and are permanently deformed for the rest of your life. 

“It doesn’t matter to me what you look like, because that’s not the part of you that I fell in love with. I fell in love with who you are on the inside, and on the inside, you are always going to be the most beautiful person I’ll ever know.

“You, my sweet, sweet girl, have always been, and always will be my greatest love,” she whispers as she cups your jaw and swipes at the steady stream of tears running down your cheek. Her hands are soft and her movements are so gentle and you’d forgotten how wonderful it was to be touched by her. 

“B-but Bucky…” you argue, but she cuts you off with a finger pressed to your lips. 

“I love him too, always, with everything in me, but it doesn’t make anything I’ve just said any less true. I’ll never have anyone else like you. There’s nobody that makes me feel the way my sweet girl does.”

She pulls you in close, carefully positioning herself against you so she’s cradling your large belly in her lap, your head under her chin. You still cry as her hand rests gently on your belly, rubbing soothingly across the taut, stretched skin. 

“I thought it was me,” she admits after you’ve finally started to calm down. “I thought...I thought you were going to leave. When you started pulling away from me, I thought I was going to lose you because I wasn’t enough anymore. 

“And then, if you left, it would only have been a matter of time before Bucky would leave, too. He’d follow you anywhere. You’re the mother of his child, how could he not? And what am I compared to you? What can I give him? There’s no future with me if you’re not here.”

It was your turn to hold her as she cried. It took some serious wiggling, but you managed to pull her into your chest, cradling her, comforting her. Her tears came hard and fast, staining the front of your shirt. 

“You’re my forever, Tasha. I wouldn’t...I couldn’t live without you. And I’m so sorry that I did this to us. I...I...I don’t know how to fix it,” you whispered into her hair, stroking the sweat dampened locks with one hand as the other held her close. 

“There’s nothing to fix, sweet girl,” she said with a sniffle, pulling back to look up at you. “I’m yours, мое сердце (my heart). I’ve always been yours.”

“But what about Bucky?” You whisper, willing yourself not to cry again as you think about the other half of your heartache. 

“It’s not what you think. I don’t know what’s up, but I know him and it can’t be what you’re thinking. He adores you. I know you can’t see it, but he still looks at you like you hung the moon. You’ll need to sit down with him and talk about it. We have spent too long tiptoeing around each other and look what it’s done to us,” she says as she scoots up so you're lying nose to nose. 

“And come back to bed. Please. I can’t stand to spend another night away from you. I don’t know if I can suffer through broody Bucky on my own anymore.”

“He can’t have been that bad,” you say with a small chuckle, curling a strand of red hair behind her ear. 

“You have no idea how insufferable he’s been without you,” she assures with a warm smile. 

“Speaking of, where is he? No...wait...what are you doing here? Both of you are supposed to be at…”

“At the thing, yeah, no, I couldn’t stand to be there a second longer knowing that you were here all alone.”

“Won’t Steve be upset you left?”

“Nah. But hey, even if he was, what is he gonna do? Kick me off the team?” She says with a scoff and a wink. “Besides, it was mostly for the incoming agents. We were there just as a morale booster.”

“But Bucky stayed?” You ask in a whisper. 

“I-“

“No, he didn’t,” comes a deep voice from the doorway. Your head whips around, your body following sluggishly after, to see Bucky standing in the doorway, arms crossed, and brow furrowed. 

“How long have you been here?” You asked as you struggled to push yourself up off the bed, to move anywhere else, feeling incredibly vulnerable and exposed in this position. 

But Nat’s arms hold you in place, keeping you on your side, as Bucky walked over, kicked off his shoes, and laid down next to you. 

“Long enough. Nat beat me here by a few minutes. I would have been here sooner if she would have waited for me to get in the car…” He’s smiling playfully, but his eyes are shining, wide, unblinking, and a little pained. “I waited in the hall, figured I’d give you two a few minutes…”

The silence stretches as you stare at him. There’s so many things you want to say, but you can’t seem to make yourself speak. You need to tell him how you feel. You need to tell him…

“I’m sorry,” he says, cutting you off before you can even get your mouth to open. “I’m sorry I made you feel like this. I’ve done this to you; I’ve done this to all of us, and I’m so, so sorry. But it’s not what you think. Not that there’s an excuse, but I never imagined it would have led to this; that you’d think I wasn’t attracted to you anymore…that I didn’t want you.”

You’re blinking away tears when they start springing back up. His hand reaches out slowly, pausing just inches from your face, giving you the opportunity to pull away. And when you don’t, his hand falls to your hair, pushing the tangled mess back away from your face. The touch is so tender that you can’t fight the tears from falling anymore. 

You’ve closed yourself off from them for so long that you’d forgotten how wonderful it felt to be loved by them. 

“It was me,” he whispers, closing his eyes. “I’m not...I won’t be...I’d die if I ever hurt you, or him. It’s all I can see every time I close my eyes. It haunts my dreams. And, ok, I’ll admit, I did pull back some, but you just seemed much more delicate than before. There’s a brand new little person growing inside you. And if I hurt you…or him..I couldn’t…”

His voice breaks and he’s blinking away his own tears. You know how he feels. It’s the same self-loathing you’ve been dealing with for the past few months. 

What a mess this has turned into. All three of you have been suffering through the same exact thing, feeling inept compared to each other, and instead of anyone talking about how they feel, you’ve been keeping it bottled up until it’s reached this breaking point. 

“What a trio we make, huh?” You whisper, reaching out and placing a hand on Bucky’s bicep. You’re giving him a watery smile which he returns as Natasha is hugging you from behind. 

“Maybe this would be a good time to suggest we go back to therapy…together…” Natasha piped up as she shifted upwards again, curling around you so she, too, could reach Bucky. 

“S’ not a bad idea,” you agree. “It helped before. Could be good to go in for another refresher before the baby gets here.”

Bucky sighs and nods. 

“I’ve missed you,” you breathe as you feel the both of them snuggle into you. “I’ve missed you both so much.”

And for the first time in months, with both of your loves snuggled in close, you feel whole and loved and complete. 

Chapter 03-Final Chapter

[lucid-loves]

Taste Like Venom ~ Simon "Ghost" Riley Part 9

Pairing: Ghost x assassin!reader (fem!reader, callsign “Hex”)

Word Count: 4.7k

CW: angst, violence, blood, strong language, scars, enemies to lovers trope, slow burn, fluff, clear attraction and sexual tension, smut later on, reader POV and ghost POV, minors dni, Soap lives in this AU

Let me know if I missed any CWs.

Story Synopsis: After Makarov gets away once again, Laswell decides to force a favor from you, the world’s greatest assassin and best-kept secret. You are now expected to help the 141 with taking down Makarov in addition to playing nice with them. It’s hard to play nice when you have always worked alone. It doesn’t help that one of the team members, Ghost, gets curious about you in each interaction. 

Chapter Synopsis: After playing Makarov’s game, you finally have a chance to finish him once and for all. However, in doing so, you end up losing more than you expected. 

Part 1 ~ Part 2 ~ Part 3 ~ Part 4 ~ Part 5 ~ Part 6 ~ Part 7 ~ Part 8 ~ Part 9 ~ Part 10

Makarov waited patiently as you mentally prepared for your onslaught of lies and half-truths. Blending the two was easier to get away with the lies from a body language standpoint. Makarov was a sharp man. You had to be careful not to give anything away. No avoiding eye contact, no touching hair, nothing that can be a sign of deception. “I want to join your efforts as an assassin. My skill sets are advanced compared to many that you probably already know about. What makes me stand out is that you don’t know me.”

He quirked a brow at your confidence before waving his hand to call over the one he put in charge of his catacombs operation. Apparently, he wanted to test this. “Hand me her file.”

“We have no file to give. She isn’t found in any system. Not the US, not Europe, not anywhere.” The man confessed, feeling anxious over the possibility that this would be seen as incompetence. Luckily, Makarov believed him.

“That is impressive. An assassin that really knows how to keep a secret. Not many people know how to keep a secret nowadays. You seem to be good at keeping them and discovering them. Tell me, how did you discover this one?” He played along, his tone light as if this was all just a game to him. 

It made your skin crawl, looking at such wasted potential. Such insanity. An intelligent man tainted by arrogance. His genius had turned into madness, and it unsettled you. You had to fight through your urge to end his life immediately. “I grew interested based on what I saw from the news. I decided that my best chance of getting an interview was by going through the back door instead of the front. Your men in Italy handling your weapons shipment led me right here. Patience and planning.”

“How did you know that you could tail them starting in Italy?” He inquired curiously, eager to learn where the breach in security was so he could fix it.

You shrugged, a shutter running through you that you disguised as nonchalance. “The U.S. government’s hold on classified information is difficult at best, but not impossible. I pulled a lot of information thanks to their incompetence. Fools shouldn’t be in charge of nations.”

“That I can agree with.” Makarov nodded with a sinister smile. 

Before he continued, he called over one of his men again to fetch something to eat. “You haven’t given her food or water yet, have you? Right now, this is our guest. Not our prisoner. For now.”

The man nodded and swiftly went away like a servant serving a king. Afterwards, Makarov resumed. “You dislike the U.S. government?”

This was an easy one to get away with since it was actually the truth. You weren’t afraid to hold back on your opinion about this either. “I hate most governments. They always claim to be for the people and provide democracy, but the truth is, they have no idea what they are doing. They have no idea what the people want. Efforts to ‘keep peace’ are no more than just pissing contests for power. Someone more realistic needs to be in charge. Someone willing to make things happen despite the red tape.”

“You believe in direct action?” 

“I believe in true progress, regardless of what some people may want.” You corrected, knowing how to twist your words into something Makarov would want to hear and trust. 

Through your bobby pin, the 141 was hearing all of this go down. It took every ounce of their effort to not swoop in and get you out of there. They too could sense the madness oozing from Makarov with every word. How he questioned you, trying to figure you out. It was only your expert navigation through conversation that they were able to remain patient. 

It didn’t take long for a sandwich to be placed on the table in front of you along with a bottle of water. You eyed the sandwich, stomach rumbling for food after skipping breakfast. However, you knew better than to just eat without caution. You picked apart your sandwich, observing each ingredient carefully with the low light of the lantern. Makarov chuckled. “Paranoid that I would poison you?”

“Only idiots take what’s in front of them without thought. It’s always worth the extra time to be cautious.” You truthfully explained as you sniffed the bread. Finally, you reassembled the meal and pushed it away, refusing to eat. 

Half-hearted praise escaped your lips. “Clever trick hiding the poison in the bread. The almond smell blends in nicely with the rest of the nutty notes of the grains on the bread.”

Makarov grinned as you played his game quite well. His praise to you was genuine in contrast to yours. “Clever trick to use your nose too instead of just the eyes. You are the type to use all of your senses. A sign of a truly great assassin.”

The sandwich was whisked away, leaving you only with an unopened bottle of water. However, you opted to not take part in that either. Instead, you carried on with trying to impress one of the most dangerous men in the world. “You have assassins after you, Makarov. Though, they are pretty loud and proud about it. The 141.”

The 141 tensed up as you began to talk about them. This was one of the parts that they were dreading the most. Makarov already knew quite a bit of information about them including names and dates. However, it was your false insight that made them clench their fists. “Simon Riley, John Price, John MacTavish, Kyle Garrick, and Kate Laswell have been hunting you down, but their efforts have failed each time.”

Makarov seemed impressed by your knowledge, choosing to encourage you to speak even more. “It has been amusing and annoying to have them come after me. You sound like you have a solution to this. Is this the part where you offer your services?”

You nodded confidently, finally feeling that you were getting somewhere with the man. “Exactly. I kill off the 141 for you and I get what I want out of it.”

“What is it that you want exactly?” 

“I want you to pin the 141 assassination on Urizikstan. At the same time, I want you to kill Farah Karim, but the blame will be on the United States. Have the two countries point fingers at each other.” You elaborated your false story like a spider weaving their web. 

Makarov laughed, not expecting such a proposal from you. He found the plan incredibly entertaining and beneficial to him. You fascinated him. “You want war?”

“Nothing resets a country’s priorities like a war. Nothing lets a country’s guard down for attack from other places too. The world needs a reset, starting with one of the biggest global superpowers. When that happens, more suitable leaders will step up.” You explained further, each word coming out of your mouth more exciting than the last to him. 

He pictured the United States crumbling to dust from their own undoing. He wanted the 141 to choke on that dust. It seemed that you were one of the most capable people to make this happen. However, he was also cautious about taking things in front of him. First, he needed proof of your suggested loyalty to him.

He gave a bloodcurdling laugh, pulling a knife from his pocket to set on the table. It was brand new, clean. You made no attempt to reach for it, but you did look at its potential. It could be the knife you would stab him with when the time is right. Your fingers almost twitched with how much you wanted to plunge it into his neck. Instead, you left a compliment. “Beautiful knife.”

“A gift if you give me one in return.” Makarov offered, your blood running cold as your mind raced. What was this man thinking? This wasn’t a question exclusive to you either. The men you have come to know over the past few weeks were also racking their brains with what Makarov could mean. 

Simon himself was about to go on a rampage. He knew that Makarov would want you. It took Kyle’s hand on his shoulder to hold him back. 

Your stomach dropped as you looked at the knife. “House rules. Choose your gift.”

“Truly, a clever girl. You know how to play the game. My gift will be your right eye. Break in that new knife of yours.” Makarov demanded with ease, his men behind him raising their guns in case anything went wrong. 

From your pin, you could hear Price shout. “Hex! Abort mission! Don’t you dare give him what he wants!”

“You don’t have to do this, Hex!” Soap yelled at the same time. Everyone was beginning to become loud and unsettled, the energy almost breaking yours.

Kyle couldn’t hold Ghost back anymore, his strength from anger and anxiety too much to contain. All Gaz could do was give a warning. “Captain, Ghost and I are on the move! Hex, you need to get the hell out of there!”

You stared at Makarov, trying to read any sign of a bluff. When you saw none, you sighed in disappointed acceptance. “It’s a good thing I have two of them. Do you have a mirror?”

“Y/n! Don’t you fucking dare!” Ghost threatened, using the name that he just discovered. Oh, how you wished you could hear it from his lips in a better circumstance.

Makarov accepted your request for a mirror, ordering one of his men to fetch anything that could allow you to see your final reflection. After a few minutes, a dull mirror was placed in front of you. Damn, you looked exhausted. However, no fear. If this was the price for saving the world from a madman, for a life outside the cabin, then it was a small price to pay.

Slowly, you picked up the knife, feeling the heavy weight in your hand. Makarov watched you carefully examine it, determining what would be the best angle to get the eye out without damaging it too much. Once you made that determination, you took a deep breath and rushed the blade towards your face.

Your hand stopped at the last second, the tip of the blade dangerously close to your iris. Makarov’s hand stopped yours, seeming to freeze time itself. He clicked his tongue in approval, now looking at you almost adoringly like an obedient pet. “What would an assassin be without both of her eyes? I approve of the dedication. You have earned yourself a job.”

Price and Soap nearly fucking collapsed in relief, their breaths labored from how long they help them. Ghost and Gaz felt the same, their warpath slowing as Makarov allowed you to keep your eye.

Finally, Makarov let go of your hand to allow you to put the blade down. Your heart hammered in your chest from the close call, your throat closing to prevent yourself from throwing up from the sick feeling. You passed the knife back to him. “You may have your gift back then. A gift exchange isn’t fair if only one is receiving.”

With pride, Makarov took it from your hand. “A fair play. What shall I call my new assassin?”

“Hex, we are in close position. Just say the word.” Gaz notified as he peaked around the corner, counting heads. For a massive weapons operation, there didn’t seem like many people here. Then again, the catacombs were huge and dark, no doubt hiding more that were lying in the shadows. 

You waited a beat before getting up, walking around the table, and stretching out your hand for a business-like handshake. “Hex.”

“A curse.” He took your hand, his grip so firm that it almost hurt your fingers. 

“Precisely. It will be a pleasure doing business with you.” You politely nodded and shook on it. 

Finally, you had him in your grasp to execute. With a harsh snap and a pull, Makarov’s wrist broke with ease. You twisted him to face forward, his back pressed against your front which stopped the men from taking fire. They could never possibly hurt their king. You felt the knife you gave back to Makarov go into your side, just narrowly missing vital organs. Or so you believed. There was too much adrenaline running through you to feel the pain.

“Now!” You called out, signaling for Ghost and Gaz to rain bullets. Gunfire echoed down the corridors, the men closest to the chaos grunting before death. The men in front of you and Makarov struggled to figure out if they should wait for the perfect shot on you or trust that their king could overpower you. You didn’t give them anymore time to decide as you removed the knife plunged into you and threw it, killing one of the men on impact.

The remaining guard, now alone as his comrades fought and one fallen dead, had no choice but to remain frozen to wait for a good shot. Makarov just chuckled, a wince coming across his face as his broken wrist surged pain up his arm. “You are indeed quite the formidable opponent, Hex. But you have trapped yourself. How long can you hold me here until you bleed to death? Not long enough.”

“Please, I have plenty of time.” You smirked diabolically, kicking the table behind you. The mirror and lantern crashed to the floor, glass shattering and light flickering out. Nothing but darkness in the makeshift room. 

Makarov felt you let go of him, a move that surprised him completely. For the first time in his life, he was taken aback. Almost scared. All because you have proven to him that you were just as smart as he was and could play his games. 

In the pitch black, you dropped to the floor, picking up the broken piece of mirror. With a shard, you cut into Makarov’s Achilles tendons, causing him to howl in agony as he fell to the floor. While he was down, the same shard entered his neck, the warm blood already flowing out to coat everything in sight. The guard, in a panic, fired his gun. You felt one of the bullets graze your shoulder, but you couldn’t stop now. Rushing forward, you swiped the blade from the body of the guard you killed and ran it up into the remaining one. Slowly, his body became limp before falling to the ground. 

Your skin was warm with the coating of fresh blood. The metallic smell filled your senses, a scent that you, unfortunately, missed. Perhaps early retirement wasn’t in the cards for you yet after all. 

The sound of gurgling and gunfire seemed amplified within the dark, Makarov’s pathetic attempts to recover proving to be for naught. Once your eyes adjusted to the dark, you managed to see his outline on the ground. It was a fitting picture, seeing the man that killed thousands lying in a pool of his own blood, surrounded by skeletons residing in the hell under Paris. You came up to him, the knife still in your hand, blood flowing from your side. “On second thought, I think I’m gonna keep this gift.”

With those final words, you slashed his throat, more blood dripping to add to his puddle. Even in the dark, you could see the light drain from his eyes. Gurgles and bubbles fought for final breaths until it was too late. Always one to confirm your kills, you felt for a pulse. When there was none for a few minutes, you knew that the job was done.

“Makarov is KIA confirmed. If the reinforcement is ready for a sweep, send them down.” You announced, taking the bobby pin out of your hair and holding it as close as you could to your ear. 

“Reinforcements going down now. Defend yourselves until the end. Good work out there, Hex.” Price confirmed, so proud of the fact that Makarov was finally dead that he could cry. The amount of turmoil he has caused made everyone want to celebrate immediately. However, the job wasn’t over yet. The rest of Makarov’s men had to be dealt their own justice.

Gaz and Ghost head the confirmation on their end, pride swelling in their hearts and giving them a whole new energy to fight with. As Gaz unleashed hell with his rifle, Ghost gave his own update. “Making our way through the operation at a good pace. We believe that some of the men are fleeing now.”

As you walked towards your exit, you suddenly became lightheaded. The sound of gunfire seemed slightly muffled and your body ran colder than before. On your next step, you collapsed to the floor. With just feeling alone, your hand swept against your side, feeling just how much blood you had lost when Makarov stabbed you. You gave a painful chuckle. “Good job, team. This was a good last job.”

“Last job?” Soap repeated, confusion in his voice clear.

“Hex, You need medical attention! We need to get her to a medic!” Ghost picked up the cryptic language quickly, a new fear taking over his body. Without thinking, we began running through the catacombs to try to find you. Gaz called for him to wait so he could provide cover fire, but there was no getting through to him now. Simon couldn’t hear anyone giving him orders through his earpiece. The only thing he could hear was the sound of his own terrified heartbeat.

You knew he was coming to get you, though. The voices through your communication device relayed this to you. You had barely registered it, but you heard enough to know that Simon didn’t plan on letting you bleed out if he could help it. The only problem was that perhaps he couldn’t.

“Hex! Y/n!? Stay with me! I’m coming to find you!” He tried to keep you awake, intuition telling him that you were slowly slipping away. Price hopped on his monitor on his end again, trying to aid Ghost in getting to you. As soon as he figured out where your positions were, he began to provide directions.

A few minutes later, Ghost was picking you up in his arms. Your body felt cool to the touch and wet with blood. However, he didn’t mind it one bit. He just held you close and spoke to you to try to keep you awake. It didn’t take long for Gaz to catch up in order to guard the both of you all the way back to the surface. “If you got her, let’s go!”

You slipped in and out of consciousness, losing more blood by the second. The adrenaline that was preventing you from feeling the pain was slowly fading. Now that you could feel your body again, you could tell that Makarov got you pretty good when he stabbed you. Damn, it really fucking hurt. At least it was better than losing a whole eye.

“Stay with me. We’re almost there.” Simon softly reassured you, praying to the universe that you will make it out alive. He couldn’t lose you. Not like this.

When the bright sun flashed on your faces as soon as you emerged from underground, it hurt. A medical team was waiting right there, rushing over as soon as they saw just how coated in blood you were. There was no telling which blood was yours and which one was Makarov’s. They were going to provide you with the best help they could.

Simon almost didn’t want to let you out of his hold. He held onto you tightly until Gaz coaxed him into handing you over to the medical team. As he watched them lift you onto a gurney and into the ambulance, he noticed you looking at him. You looked at him like it was the last time you would ever see him again. It damn near completely broke his heart.

When the ambulance began to pull away, siren pressuring cars to get the hell out of the way, Simon became determined. He spoke to Price through his radio. “Captain, permission to go to the hospital and wait for Hex.”

“Permission granted. The medical staff are probably going to be confused about her identity. Probably have a lot of questions.” He granted, understanding that this wasn’t coming from a place of professionalism. This was a personal request, one that Ghost never made in all the time Price has known him. Besides, you deserve to have someone by your side when you wake up in the hospital.

~

You woke up feeling groggy as hell, your vision blurry and aching from the bright fluorescent lights above you. Your mouth tastes like salt, a sign that an IV was working its way through you. The right side of you dully ached, no doubt painkillers making the stitches more tolerable. A headache began to set in as you tried to sit up, a groan escaping your dry throat.

“Kitten.” Ghost called out to you, noticing that you were finally awake. He wanted to reach out to you, but you stopped him for a few instructions first. You couldn’t handle a bear hug right now.

“Dim the lights and get me some water first. Call the doctor too.” You spoke, voice strained as you went through your mental checklist of things you needed. Simon had no issues following your orders, figuring that you deserved to be spoiled, especially after what you went through for them. 

Once the lights were dimmed down, your headache began to ease up. Simon opened up a water bottle for you and helped you drink. Hopefully you’ll get a meal soon too. Pretty soon after that, Simon brought back a doctor who beamed at you, her teeth matching the fluorescent lights that were on moments ago. She spoke English, but her French accent came through. “Hello! We didn’t expect you to wake up for much longer. How are you feeling?”

“Like shit.” You truthfully answered, earning a little giggle from the doctor.

“Normal then. That’s good. Do you remember what happened?” 

Your brain strained to remember how you ended up in the hospital, your memories showing you nothing but darkness. Seeing the strain on your face, Simon took your hand and held it. Suddenly, the memories began to flow back. “We were on a mission that led us to the catacombs. I assassinated Makarov. He got me with a knife before then. A bullet grazed me too. I lost a lot of blood. Right?”

She gave a gentle smile and jotted down a few notes on a clipboard. Simon looked at you, proud that you could remember. It seemed like you were still sharp as a tack even after everything went down. “Perfect. You were brought to the hospital for medical attention. We managed to find out your blood type for a blood transfusion. Examined your organs and stitched you back up. You are a very lucky lady.”

“Thanks. When can I leave?” You inquired, already itching to get out of the uncomfortable hospital bed. Simon glared at you as you expressed your eagerness to leave. You needed to rest, damn it!

“We want to keep you for another night just to make sure you’re okay. But, if you really are in a rush to leave, we can settle for a few hours. Your body has proven to be pretty resilient. Though, we recommend having someone help you out at home for a little while. You would still need to take it easy.” The doctor recommended honestly.

That was something you could work with. Accepting the compromise, you nodded your head and sighed, hardly believing that you could even sigh in this life still. Everything was beginning to feel more surreal. It felt like you were really close to death this time. Maybe if Ghost hadn’t found you as quick as he did, you would be dead.

The doctor put the notes on her clipboard and left to gather the things you need in order to go home early. Simon scowled at you under his mask, hardly believing how you could still be so frustrating after almost dying. “You better not be thinking about doing shit once you get out.”

You rolled your eyes at him, not missing the lectures that you thought were over with. “Relax, Simon. I just don’t like hospitals, alright? I would rather be in a comfortable bed with access to a full bathroom. Is that so much to ask?”

He huffed at you before grumbling under his breath. “No. It’s not. Sorry. I just. . . thought I lost you for a moment.”

Your gaze softened, guilt invading your heart. You shouldn’t be picking fights like this again. Not this soon at least. Hell, you should be showing him gratitude for getting you to medics in time. He risked his life to save you. “I’m sorry, Simon. Thanks for waiting for me. I would like to be able to recover back at the hotel for a while before getting back on my feet again. I would feel more comfortable there.”

At that, he gave an understanding nod and brushed your hair out of your face. You missed his touch. “You got it, kitten. We’ll make it happen.”

~

Kate flew all the way to Paris to help you navigate the intense questions on your identity when it was time to be discharged. You couldn’t remember the last time you saw her in person, but seeing her again made you realize just how much you actually missed her. She missed you too from the way she hugged you tightly, careful not to cause pain. She owed you big time for this. Helping you avoid questioning was only the beginning of her efforts to pay you back.

When you and Simon arrived back at the hotel, Soap, Gaz, and Price were waiting to see you again. They had bought plenty of food and drinks along with cake to celebrate your quick return and finally putting an end to Makarov. While you were still a bit closed off from them, you did begin to reveal more tidbits of information about you. Some of your other assassin stories, a little bit about your interests, and cracking jokes here and there. It was most likely the painkillers that were helping you feel a little more loose than usual.

At the end of the day, the men went back to their rooms, the men being granted permission to have a little vacation for a while for the good work they’ve done. Simon, however, stayed with you in your room. He showed no signs of leaving either. “What do you think you’re doing? Shouldn’t you be going to bed?”

“I am going to go to bed. We’re sharing the bed.” He answered like you just asked the stupidest question he’s ever heard. 

When you opened your mouth to protest, he cut you off. “Doctor’s orders. You need someone to help you around at all times. Someone to make sure that you take it easy. I’m that someone. Don’t even try to argue.”

You bit your cheek, holding back your stubborn protests that were threatening to spill out. With a deep breath, you tried to accept the fact that Ghost wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. “How long do you plan on sticking around for?”

“Two weeks. Doctor’s orders.” Simon revealed, a smirk playing on his lips that was revealed once he took his mask off for the night. His handsome face almost had you fall over. You didn’t think you would get to see that face again. 

You didn’t think you will be able to handle being pampered by him for the next two weeks as well. 

-

Taglist:

@eatingtheworldsoffanfiction @dory-98 @cum-tea-and-towels @completelymarveltrash @watersquirtpewpewboomm @thychuvaluswife @sweetheart-im-the-boss @anotherrickinthewall @bluewinter39 @fortunatelydecadentstudent @transparentsheepsheep @rhaenryawhore @randomlyblues @issssawrap @lachimolalaa3 @callsign-pyro @corruptcrybaby @kdadss @lexuria @dookiedanish@horagamu @bitchvxbes @aldis-nuts @hellhavevibes @annyis @lunaryst25 @xheera

[lemissingmask]

[ID: Sketch in partial colour of Redemption era Parker and Eliot sitting side by side in the courtyard of their New Orleans base, in similar relative positions to when they had a heart to heart at the end of the hurricane job. Parker and her background are in colour, and she’s looking sadly down, hunched forward slightly. Eliot is in greyscale and wearing prison clothes, looking sad and serious. End ID] -

Day 29: alt. Prison

AU for The Turkish Prisoner Job, where Eliot gets stuck in the prison, and also the first part of the three-parter of ficlets, with the others on days 8 (dissociation, part 3) and 15 (experimentation, part 2). I know it’s backwards but that’s the way the days worked out 😅

Ficlet below the cut.

-

“Do exactly what they say,” were the last words they heard from Eliot for days, and they hadn’t even been addressed to the team.  He had been speaking to Romero, just as he was about to get released on a day pass by their marks, and then he was gone.  Taken away by prison guards under orders that overruled the detectives.

The confusion and surprise didn’t last more than a few seconds.

Sophie stepped in, had Breanna mute Eliot’s comm for all but her, and talked their client through how to proceed, keeping him calm and collected as he had to keep going now without a hitter for back-up.

The job had taken another turn, requiring a change of plan, new considerations, and they needed all of them involved to pull it off successfully, which meant it was two days before they had a chance to get back to Eliot.  If had been any member of the team other than Eliot, Parker would have been worried.

But it was Eliot and a stint in prison out of contact with his crew was nothing to him.

Regardless, she felt something unpleasant and annoying and she didn’t understand it.

“Babe, you okay?” Hardison asked, his image large in the screens as their long distance call connected.

Breanna had emailed him as soon as they lost contact with Eliot, just in case there was something he could do with his amazing exosphere hacking access. But the prison ran a closed network, no access from the outside even from the exosphere.

“It just feels wrong.”

Hardison frowned, “Eliot being in jail?”

“I don’t know. Yes. Maybe…”

For over ten years Parker had barely gone a day without one or both of Hardison and Eliot either right there beside her or talking in her ear. Now Hardison was gone, only reachable through a complicated video link thing or emails that took too long and were too impersonal, and Eliot’s voice was no longer there either.

“Babe?”

Parker realised she had let her mind wander and looked back to the screen.

She couldn’t place what she was feeling.

She was angry. Angry at Eliot for not just breaking out, angry at Harry for running the job so Eliot ended up in prison, angry with Sophie for letting Harry run the job, and angry with herself because it wasn’t Harry’s fault or Sophie’s fault.

This happened.  They did a dangerous job, especially Eliot, and this sort of thing could happen, and no one was to blame.

And she was anxious.  Worried about Eliot, which was stupid because it was Eliot Spencer and he was always fine.

“Parker? Talk to me.”

She looked up.

Hardison looked worried, sad.

She smiled slightly, feeling that rising warmth that came whenever he looked at her with so much emotion. The reminder that she wasn’t alone.

“I don’t like not having him here,” she said quietly.  She wanted Hardison to understand.

“I know,” he replied, “I’m sorry I’m not there right now.”

She nodded, “Well, you’ve got satellite stuff to do.”

That earned her only a sad smile, and she looked down at the keyboard.

“Harry going into the prison tomorrow?” Hardison asked, “Playing the lawyer.”

“Yeah. We can’t do anything until we know more.”

“I’ll keep trying to dig up intel from my end too. Got an algorithm running right now to cross-reference each of his aliases and his real name against email communications between government agencies, prison networks, rich folk…anyone who might want to lock him up.”

“That’s a long list. We’ve made a lot of enemies.”

And Eliot had a lot more still from before Leverage.

“Yeah. It’s gonna take a while,” Hardison replied, “So, wanna watch something together tonight?  I can stream from any country in the world and share the screen.”

“Sharknado?”

Hardison sighed, “We got access to pretty much any film that exists on the internet, and you wanna watch Sharknado.  Again.”

She grinned, “We can watch Sharknado II after.”

Sighing again, but smiling properly this time, he got to work finding the films, and they began their movie night.

-

Harry’s visit to the prison had three purposes.  The first, to see if there was a quick route to getting Eliot released.  The second, if that failed, to find out what had happened and why Eliot had been detained.  The third, to get an earbud back to Eliot.

This required what was, essentially, a pointless and entirely fabricated lawyer-client conversation between Eliot and Harry, which Parker mostly ignored in favour of watching Breanna attempt to find a way into the prison security system now they were parked close to the building in the food truck.

The culmination of this conversation was that no, it was not going to be quick and easy to get Eliot released because he reportedly had committed severe infractions within the prison, as observed by the guards.  Eliot had been moved to solitary because of these supposed dangerous acts, which were false but backed up by multiple guards.  He hinted that he had some idea of why, but the conversation was recorded and monitored, with two guards in the room at the time, so he couldn’t say more.

But the third task was successful.

About half an hour after Harry returned, and while they were still outside the prison, Eliot’s comm came online.

“Welcome back,” Sophie said, seeing the feed on the laptop screen appear.

“Thanks,” Eliot whispered, suggesting he suspected someone may be listening, “Romero okay?”

“Okay and rolling in it,” Breanna replied proudly.

“Job’s wrapped up, everything sorted, so now we just need to get you out,” Parker added, “Any idea what got you locked in there?”

“Think so,” he replied, “Sorta.  Pretty sure I’ve been ID’d.”

That was no surprise.  It was among the theories they had discussed.

“Who by?” Harry asked, “It has to be someone high up for them to get you moved to solitary and multiple guards confirming a false story to keep you there.”

“Dunno, but I heard someone talkin’ outside my cell.  Think they were on the phone, an’ they told whoever they were talkin’ to that they had me - said my name, not the alias’s - locked down.  My guess is they’re gonna transfer me at some point.”

“Weakest part of any transit is when the goods are being loaded into the vehicle,” Parker repeated information she had heard from Eliot years before, “That’s where we rescue you.”

Breanna shifted her screen to bring up several views of roads, “Look, I didn’t manage to get into the prison cameras, but I could get into some CCTV on the roads leading to the prison.  A prisoner transport is gonna require an armoured car, right?  And it’s gotta go down one of those roads.”

“We’ll be ready for it too, now,” Sophie added, “You can tell us when the transfer is taking place.  We’ll get everything prepared to attack the car, and when you give us the signal, we’ll move.”

Considering the number of times they’d waylaid and broken into armoured vehicles in the past, setting up the plan for dealing with this one - and contingencies in case of an escort, alternative routes, timings being off, and so on - didn’t take more than a few hours.  And, with the plan established and it already nearing midnight, they all went to bed.

All except Parker.

She tried sitting at the bar and then the desk and then on the stage, and finally wandered out to the courtyard to sit on the picnic table there. It felt very empty to be sitting on that table without Eliot next to her. But then most places she was used to sitting tended to have their hitter there too.

She felt stupid. Ridiculous. Eliot had been away from them undercover or kidnapped or on some side-hustle job loads of times and she never felt this unhappy about it. Hardison had been away loads too, working on those hacker things only he could do, and she felt sad but not like this. Not this icky, distracting, fuzzy feeling in her brain like something was really really wrong.

She pulled her earbud from her pocket and put it in her ear.

“Hey, Eliot?  You asleep?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m going to listen to that podcast with all the facts. Wanna listen with me? We’re like six episodes behind.”

Eliot didn’t reply immediately. She heard a quiet background noise. His footsteps on a hard floor.

Then he spoke quietly, not answering the question.

“You doin’ alright, Parker?”

She tried to laugh properly but it didn’t work.  It didn’t sound like a laugh, even though she was meant to be good at grifting by now.

“I’m not the one sitting alone in a dark lonely cold prison cell.”

She could hear the smile in Eliot’s voice. The gentle, soft smile.

“I’ve been in a lot of prisons, Parker.  This one’s among the nicest,” he paused, and in it she could picture his expression perfectly. It was the kind, understanding, expression few people ever got to see.

The thought of it, so clear in her mind, finally made her understand what felt so wrong.

She was lonely.

She hadn’t been lonely in a very long time and now it hurt so much more than before.

“It’s just,” she began, looking down at her shoes on the bench, “First Hardison left. And now so have you.”

“Parker,” Eliot said softly, “I didn’t leave. I’m right here, an’ I’m always gonna be. Hardison might be a stupid number of miles away, but he’s right there with you too.”

“With us.”

“With us,” he accepted her correction without hesitating, “We’re not, either of us, ever gonna leave you. An’ I know right now it feels lonely, but you’re not alone. We’re here, Sophie’s there. Harry an’ Breanna are there. Hell, if you wanna call up Hurley I bet he’d answer any time of the day or night an’ probably make you talk to his damn cat.”

Parker laughed despite herself. She liked Hurley’s cat. Eliot didn’t, so the cat always sat on Eliot when they visited, purring contentedly while he growled at it to go annoy someone else, and trying to pretend there wasn’t a fond smile just on the verge of forming on his face.

Eliot left a long pause for his words to sink in, and for Parker to find the truth within them. When he spoke again it was in a more normal tone, saving her from falling too deep into emotions she couldn’t name.

“So,” Eliot said, “About that podcast. ‘Cus solitary’s pretty damn boring.”

Parker found herself smiling.

She already had it up on her phone, the first in their episode backlog ready to go.

“You hear it?”

The familiar theme tune started as she pressed play.

“I hear it,” Eliot replied, then added softly, just as the voices of the podcasters began, “Thanks, Park.”

She nodded although he couldn’t see, smiled, and settled in to spend the night happily with Eliot, even if there were miles and walls of concrete between them.

Parker went to sleep, still listening to that podcast with Eliot in her ear.

When she woke up, Eliot was gone.

His comms were off, and no amount of yelling into her earbud would get a response.

Harry went back into the prison, playing the part of his alias's lawyer again, but he was told that alias wasn't in the prison system. Never had been in the prison at all, according to the records. Hours of intense hacking from outside the walls and from the exosphere found that alias wiped entirely from the prison records, and Eliot's name was nowhere to be found either.

During the night, while his crew slept, Eliot had been made to disappear.

-

[writereleaserepeat]

Hear No Evil - Chapter 4

Previous // Next

CW: bbu, bbu-adjacent, pet whump, institutionalized slavery, dehumanization, dehumanizing intent by using it/its pronouns, ableism, food mention, starvation

[A/N at the end of the chatper]

Rowan spent fifteen minutes pacing in his hallway before he settled on who he would call. A lump lodged in his throat every time he passed by the box the boy arrived in - what was he even supposed to do with it now? - and his heart fluttered whenever his finger hovered over his chosen contact. 

“How are you supposed to help this victim recover if you can’t even make a phone call, you idiot?” Rowan chastised himself as he rubbed his palm against his brow. Rationally, making a call was the best way to get himself and his new houseguest some help. Rationally, Rowan knew that this had to happen sooner or later. But rationality hadn’t exactly been governing Rowan’s choices over the past two days. 

It took another two minutes of anxious pacing before he sat at the kitchen table, hit the call button, and heard the phone ring once, twice, three times and-

“Hey there, Rowan,” the familiar and ever-cheerful voice said, and it hit Rowan like a ray of golden sun. “What’s up, man? You doing alright after the liquidation event yesterday? I know those are hard on you.”

Rowan paused, took a breath, and closed his eyes. Now or never.

“Listen, Grey, I might have done something a little impulsive when I was there.” The entirety of his admission wasn’t quite ready to come to Rowan’s lips. All of a sudden his throat was dry, and his knee bounced beneath the table. 

“Please don’t tell me they clocked you,” Greyson groaned. Greyson - just Grey to Rowan - was the current Vice President of the Pet Liberation Front, North American Division. Greyson also happened to be Rowan’s best friend. They’d known each other since they onboarded at PLF together more than a decade ago, and although their paths had diverged, a common mission still united them. Grey had taken on pet liberation as his full-time job, and Rowan had stuck with the weekend volunteer gigs. 

“No, nothing like that,” Rowan said hastily. “No cops, no drama, no one suspected a thing. I even got all the footage you asked for. But I uh… I saw a victim there. He was just different, okay? I can’t tell you what it was, not exactly, but there was something about him that I’ve never seen before. I looked at him and I just- I couldn’t say no, so I- I rescued him. Cash upfront for a lifetime contract, signed on the warehouse floor, delivered this morning. He’s in my spare bedroom right now.”

“Jesus Christ,” Grey muttered, and Rowan could picture his exasperated face from hundreds of miles away. The other man only continued after releasing a deep sigh. “You aren’t trained as a rescuer, you haven’t been assigned a rehabilitator, and there’s no way we can get him in for a medical work-up on such short notice. You're in way over your head with this.”

“I know, I know.” Rowan could concede that he fucked up, just a little, or maybe more than a little. But the boy was alive in that spare room rather than being burned to ash in the industrial cremator. That had to count for something, right?

“What’s wrong with him, huh?” Grey asked this over the sound of distant keystrokes, the frustration in his voice already dissipating. “You purchased him at a liquidation event, which means there's something they determined was defective, so this isn’t even a standard rescue case. Give me some details and I can try to connect you to a rehabilitator for emergency intervention. If you send me scans of the purchase papers - they should be in his box with the instruction manual - I can also open a rescue file in our system for him.”

Rowan let out a soft breath of relief. Grey had shifted into his rescue-oriented mindset, which meant that if he intended to continue scolding Rowan, it would at least come at a later time.

“I- I don’t know why he was sent for liquidation. He’s only been here for a few hours, and I’ve been too focused on not making a mess of things to figure it out. The WRU agent said that he had stopped listening to direct commands, but that’s all the information I got. He hasn’t reacted to a single thing I’ve said this whole time. Physically, he seems to be in decent shape. Walking, kneeling, any kind of movement, he had no problem. There’s the usual scarring and some fresh wounds around his cheeks, ears, and neck, but that’s it.” Rowan thought back to the deep wounds gouged into the boy's head, and again wondered what sort of torment would cause such persistent injuries. A shiver crept up his spine, but Grey cut in before Rowan's imagination could get the best of him.

“Hmm. Alright. It looks like our roster has one volunteer rehabilitator about five miles from your address, an Allison Herrera. She’s been with the PLF for four years now, and she’s assisted in more than ten successful rehabilitations with different rescuers in your area. I’ve sent her your contact information, and she doesn’t have any other cases at the moment, so you should expect to hear from her soon.”

“You are a miracle worker, Grey.” Unlike just a few minutes ago, Rowan was no longer in this alone. Help was on its way. Of course, as the rescuer, he knew he would have to do most of the work. The most a rehabilitator could offer him was guidance, advice, assessment. But by god, Rowan was going to take it.

Grey gave a soft, strained chuckle. 

“No, you’re the miracle worker today. You gave that boy a second chance at life, and that’s worth more than all the money in the world. I wouldn’t ever recommend doing what you’ve just done, but I know you did it with a good heart and good intentions.”

“Yeah. I just… I couldn’t let him go. Not this one, not this time.” 

Grey sighed again, and Rowan liked to imagine that he was smiling.

“Now get back there and try to settle your new houseguest in. Remember, it's firm suggestions, not commands, are the best to begin the transition process. Conversational tone, soft voices, lots of praise. Read through the PLF rescue manual, and then read it again. Allison will tell you more when you end up connecting.”

“Alright, I’ll do my best. Thank you, really. I promise I’ll try to call you at some point when I’m not in crisis mode.”

“Not holding my breath, bud. You just take care and keep me updated.” And with that, the line went dead, and Rowan was back on his own. 

---

Pet almost let one tear fall down its face as it soaked in the newness of everything around it. Kneeling was hard after so many hours in the box, but that was okay. Pet had done things that were so much harder. These floors weren’t even cement, so it thought maybe it could even kneel all day without its knees bruising. 

The food Master left was still just out of reach, and Pet's stomach was filled with the daggers of hunger, but Pet remembered Master’s words with gospel-like reverence. Don’t eat. So it didn’t. If this was Pet's first test in its new home, it would prove itself to Master, it would show just how obedient it could be.

Usually it was easy for Pet’s mind to grow empty, for it to submit to the nothingness, to surrender wholly to a place without pain. It wasn’t meant to think, it was trained not to. But today, Pet was struggling not to think. There was too much new. It was more frustrated than ever that it couldn't quite hear its new Master’s voice. It couldn’t tell if it was a scratchy voice, or if it was a soft one, or if it was a warm, deep roar. All Pet knew was that there were distant, muted words that floated beyond its grasp. 

If Pet was going to be good, it had to learn fast. Even if it didn’t have the exact words, it had to learn what Master wanted, and what Master expected of it. The better Pet anticipated its Master's needs, the less it got punished. A reliable pet was a good pet.

Even when it got hard to hear its old Master’s commands, Pet knew him well. Pet knew what time breakfast was to be prepared, how Master liked his floors cleaned, and which tools to offer up for punishment when Master was angry. It was routine, predictable, and even if it couldn’t hear every exact command, it was comforting to Pet. Every day was the same. There were no guesses, no surprises. Days and pain all bled into one another as the silence grew. Every day was the same, every ache anticipated. 

That was, until it was dropped back off at the facility for re-training. Discarded.

Not all of this new was bad. New Master smelled like no other Master that Pet had ever had - he smelled almost like bread fresh from the oven. The house had soft wooden floors, not cold tile, and the light came from soft, yellow bulbs. It was warm here, and the space was snug with narrow halls and close walls. It wasn’t particularly clean, at least not as clean as its old Master would have expected, but Pet didn’t mind. 

And since it hadn’t heard its new Master yell, then Pet thought that maybe, just maybe, it wouldn’t suffer much more pain today. The idea of punishment made its heart flutter uncomfortably in its chest. 

Don’t think. Don’t think. Don’t flinch. Don’t think. Calm down. You belong to Master. Master can do with you as he pleases. You are Master’s property. Your only concern is to listen to Master, please Master, obey Master’s every command. 

Before Pet could try to escape to blissful nothingness once more, Master’s feet appeared in the doorway. They sidestepped the plate - still untouched - and came closer to Pet. It braced its muscles as subtly as possible, preparing for the inevitable strike. There was another mumbling of words, just as indistinct as before.

Pet stopped breathing when a hand touched its chin, ever so gently, and titled its face upwards.

---

A/N: Wow! Thank you all so much for the outpouring of love I have received for this story. I must admit I abandoned it back in October as my life got busy, but I have a total of fifteen chapters currently written, with more on the way. So yes, this work is continuing!

Reading the kind tags and comments so many folks have left genuinely brought tears to my eyes. Your kindness has been overwhelming in the best possible way. Thank you, and I hope you continue to enjoy!

I think I got everyone who asked to be tagged for this, but please ask if you would like to be added! Please let me know if you have been added in error, and you will be promptly removed.

Taglist: @honey-is-mesi @aswallowimprisoned @kira-the-whump-enthusiast @honeycollectswhump @rekiroyalstraightprincemaru @tragedyinblue @clairelsonao3 @octopus-reactivated @maracujatangerine @peachy-panic

[swamplatibule]

MAY I PRESENT TO YOU….

DUN DUN DUNNNNNN….

KILLIGAN!!

A.K.A a paracosm of mine that I haven’t talked about literally ever because due to The Horrors i have been unable to daydreampost. Sorry.

Anyway! Fair warning for a little bit of fucked up shit! Mostly murder and cult stuff and some graphic violence. One of our dual protagonists kills people for a living so I’d say that’s to be expected, yknow? But we’ll get to that guy later- Allow me to introduce you to John.

Johnathan Parse is nobody. People simply do not notice him, and he goes about his life as a background character to everyone else. This anxious wreck is a private investigator who usually takes up missing persons cases. He’s good at his job, but there’s one person he was never able to find - his daughter, Kyrie. She vanished nine years ago and was presumed dead, but he knows she’s still out there somewhere and he’s been searching for her ever since. He’s still no closer to finding her than the day she went missing. Sad!

However… he does have one lead. A ludicrous, unreliable lead, but a lead nonetheless.

We’ll get to that in a bit.

Now let me introduce you to our OTHER protagonist- Vic Killigan, the titular character.

Killigan is a hitman with a very fortunate name (even thought it’s not his Real Name but we are not delving into that today). He’s terrifyingly good at his job, and impossible to find unless he wants you to. This weird little freak has been running circles around the law for years.

Very few people have been brave enough to try hunting Vic down, and none have survived.

Unfortunately, he is the only lead John has.

You see, Vic was raised in what is essentially an elite child soldier death cult known as the ROSE Order. At the ripe old age of 19, he escaped ROSE, faked his death, and proceeded to capitalize on murder since it was the only life skill he had. John has reason to believe that this “Order” is responsible for his daughter’s disappearance, and that Vic has some sort of connection, but if Killigan is hard to find, ROSE is out of the question.

Let me pause for a second and explain ROSE. It’s an underground paramilitary organization that is comprised of highly efficient and ruthless assassins, most of which were kidnapped as young children to be trained. ROSE has a foothold in most governments, puppeteering from the background, but they also work in providing private military services to their many sponsors. If you’re raised in the Order, there’s like a 50% chance you’ll become a ROSE spy/assassin, and a 50% chance you’ll get shipped off to go do shady murder shit for some rich fuck.

The only people who know how deep the Order runs are those in charge - or those who find out too much and are subsequently killed. Of course, there’s a slim percentage that manage to escape ROSE, but even most of them don’t have a clue.

Vic Killigan does.

If John has any hope of finding his daughter, Killigan’s his man- which leads him to spend months fruitlessly trying to track him down until a ✨potential informant✨ makes contact, and John winds up roped into attending a big gala. His informant doesn’t show, but the host of the gala is murdered by none other than Killigan himself. John manages to get a tracker on him in the form of a very fancy pen and, because he’s allowed to be a dumb bitch occasionally, breaks into his house without a plan to try and find a lead.

Clearly that does not go well, and not long after, John wakes up ziptied to a chair with the man the myth the legend Killigan interrogating him as to how the Fuck he tracked him down. Great first impressions <3 John, being scared shitless for obvious reasons, tells him everything immediately. Killigan just stares at him for a minute, and then… he leaves the room without a single word. You’ll notice he does that a lot.

It takes John a somewhat pathetic fifteen minutes to break free from his ziptie prison, and he walks out to see Vic sitting on the kitchen counter staring off into space. He’s beginning to get the feeling that this was a very bad idea, and that this Killigan character is in fact extremely fucking weird. Too late now!

(^ a gorgeous commission by @/ratt-teeth !!! :])

Killigan very politely informs him that there is no way in hell he’s going to mess with the Order because while he might have a death wish that is absolutely not the way he wants to go. He also advises John to stay the fuck away from ROSE if he doesn’t want to get McMurdered. However! After some small deliberation, Vic goes “ugh. god. fine.” and agrees not to help him get to ROSE, but connect him with some friends who might be willing to.

First stop: Anastasia Cruz and her team.

faceclaims are lovie simone and diana silvers

Anastasia Cruz is, like Vic, an escaped ROSE agent who then decided to put her skills to use. She runs a syndicate of thieves known as the Sapphires, which Vic never stops making fun of because he thinks it sounds like a band (and he’s not wrong). Ruby Garnier is Anastasia’s far less charismatic second-in-command.

Vic is a close friend of Anastasia’s. They might as well be siblings! And yet, when he arrives at the Sapphire’s base of operations, he and John are immediately attacked, knocked out, and taken prisoner. Well, shit!! That’s not good!

Anyway this has been in my drafts for a few weeks so I’m just going to post it and I’ll write out a part 2 later lmfaooo

Taglist: @sugarcoatedsadism @diphtheria420 @parasdreams @dreamyblur @daydreaming-memories @acircusfullofdemons

[renneiscent]

The Heist (Chapter 2)

This is the continuation of the story, I apologize for my messy writing. I’m not going to make an excuse with English is not my first language but still please consider it and be nice to me.. I have fragile heart. :D

Yes, I posted it again. And yes, I made the mess. I'm sorry. 😩

< Previous Chapter | Next Chapter >  

I’m trying to collect all of my sense of self-preservation. Think smart, MC. Think smart. I sighed and tucked my hair, trying to give a confident smile which I wasn’t sure if it worked or was awkward.

“Well, I’m not sure what your intention, but—” I clear my throat, trying so hard to hide my shaky voice. God, this is going to be much easier if I did it behind my screen. Why didn’t they just contact me by phone? “—how on earth am I supposed to believe that the man over there is someone I knew? He could be your agent, who is roleplaying in this sketchy sitcom, couldn’t he?”

As much as I’m trying to play it cool, my body is not cooperating really well. I can sense my nape is little bit tense and my legs are not strong enough to support me for standing; so I’m crossing my arms as a reflex which is a huge mistake because if they are truly agents, they must learn some body language scout book and knowing that how uneasy I am right now. Next time when I managed to get out from this thing, please remind me to sign up in class about how to lie.

Agent Michaels is giving smile which is not so reassuring for me whiles his hands steepling on the desk, “that is a really good thought of you; I didn’t think you could ever assume things like that.”

His statement makes me scoff and roll my eyes, “well, if this somehow makes you feeling better, I also don’t believe that you…” I turn my back and face the other agent behind me, pointing at him with my chin, “…and this person right here are agents. I don’t pay taxes to be kidnapped by people in fancy suits.”

With what happened in the past few months, I have learned a lot. Well, probably one of them is staying out of people’s affairs and the rest of it is how to wrap people on your fingers; especially officers.

“As a matter of a fact, we can convince you that we are agents and not just random people with fancy suit and kidnap a woman. We can really assure you that.” His thin lips curved a smile, “but if you still need something to verify your skepticism, how about this?”

He took something from his pocket and put it on the desk, it’s FBI badge. I clenched my jaw, trying to not make weird expression and remain to calm. Agent Wilson is walking to the desk and taking the badge, handing it to me as well as his badge. I took those badges right away and my eyes are scanning every inch of it; checking if it’s real or not. But frankly speaking, I can’t tell if those are real or not. I’m incapable to do that because lacking of knowledge, excuse me for not involving in crime and pissing off government enough.

“It can be fake,” I responded after examine the badges for a while; I put the badges on the desk and cross my arms again. Stop that habit already, MC! Stop crossing your arms every time you are feeling uneasy! You don’t have to tell them that you are feeling anxious!

I can hear how this Michaels person let out a little sigh; perhaps he’s done with me. Will he shoot me for being so nosy? I cannot see where they keep their gun but I don’t think they will just murder me because asking so many questions and being skeptical… right? After all, they just offered me to work for them few minutes ago.

“In that case,” Agent Michaels put his badge again to his pocket, “how about we let you to talk to him? I think you are more able to trust if he’s the one who explaining everything right now. It’s not like we can break those trust issue of yours, is it?”

[ tagging: @03patrickstar ]

< Previous Chapter | Next Chapter >  

[teddy06writes]

With Ghastly Consequences

Part Two of A Dangerous Game

{I wasn’t going to do this till later but ThE IdEaS were flowing}

Requested by this anon: “I don’t mean to be a bother but if you could possible make a part 2 for the “a dangerous game” fic that you made? It was amazing!!”

and this one: “ Dude I need more poly Dream team with SBI family reader what if reader came back as a ghost but it’s like Ghostbur so she doesn’t remember everything?”

Sooo....

Dream x George x Sapnap x Reader + sleepy boys x sibling!reader

trigger warnings: yelling, swearing, mentioned character death (its you, you died in the last one)

premise: after your death, everything was hazy; this is an account of the events sparked by your ghostly return

(y/n/n)- your nickname

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

You’d drifted, for a while, in a greyish abyss for a while, knowing that there was a choice to make. 

The void, though being of course, a void of nothingness, was peaceful, and gave you time to come to terms with what had happened, and come to the solution to the question. 

And as soon as that happened-

You were gone again. 

~~

“Philza!” 

The man froze over the brewing stand, the bottles in his hands beginning to tremble, “(y/n)?” 

“Dad!” You grinned as he turned around, looking dumbfounded, “I didn’t know you were coming here- when did you get in? Oh I can’t believe you finally came!” 

“D- Do you not remember?” His voice was low, shaking almost as much as his hands. 

“Course I remember- well I remember some stuff. Like you and Tommy and Techno and Home and- and Pogtopia- and Dream and George and Ni- Sapnap- oh- wait-” your voice dropped to a whisper, “You know how they were- y’know, my partners?”

Your father nodded. 

“Don’t tell Wil,” You said quickly, “He’ll get mad.” 

He nodded blankly again, still staring at you. 

“Well what's with you? Why’re you looking at me like that?” 

“Y- It’s just- your back. I- I was devastated- more than- when WIlbur- er- when you died. But n- but your back.” There was quiet relief in his voice. 

You nodded, “Course I’m back. Like you could get rid of me that easy.” 

Phil dropped the bottles onto the crafting bench, rushing forward in an attempt to embrace you. 

You shuddered as he passed through your spectral form, sadly mumbling, “Uh, yeah. I kinda pass through things now.” 

Phil smiled sadly, “Still, your back, come on, come on, lets go find Techno, he should still be around here.” 

You nodded, following him down that ladder, “That's what I wanted to ask, where is here? Why are you out in the arctic?” 

“Oh, uh, just to get away from everything, you know who Tech hates his governments.” Phil attempted a joke. 

“Oh, yeah- I wouldn’t want to be there with Shlatt either. Strange he didn’t just go back to pogtopia though.” 

Technoblade looked up from where he was sharpening his axe, at first his face reading confused, then guilty, the carefully blank, “Things have changed (y/n). People, change.”

“Like Wil? I rember Wil being mad about something- do you think- no it wouldn’t be that, I was careful.” 

Techno winced, glancing Phil’s direction, “Uhh, we- we don’t talk to Wilbur any more. Not- not since he- er- not since you died.” 

“That man is no son of mine.” Phil spat.

You looked at him confused, “What happened? Did you get in a fight?”

“It’s- not our place to tell you.” Techno said finally. 

“hmmm, okay! So what have you guys been up too?” 

~~

You hummed a tune, drifting down the prime path, headed towards L’manburg, toward home

Phil and Techno had warned you that things had changed since your death, but that didn’t deter you from going back.

Coming over the hill, you looked over your beautiful country, the walls, which you knew were gone, seemed to be partially rebuilt, and distantly you could see Fundy over seeing construction.

At first glance everything seemed fine, but as you got closer the atmosphere seemed to change, a sort of anxiety hanging in the air over the city. 

Slowly you floated up to the platform your nephew was standing on, “Fundy! You’re rebuilding the walls!”

The fox jumped, “(y/n)?” 

“When Techno said things had changed I didn’t think he meant Shlatt was putting the walls back!” 

“(y/n)- your- your back?” 

“Course I’m back,” You chuckled, “You miss me fur ball?” 

“I- you- your back?” He repeated.

“Yeah, what’s going on round here? Why’d Shlatt have a change of heart- wait- did we win? Did I die and miss us winning? Is Wilbur putting the walls back-” 

“Wilbur isn’t here any more.” Fundy interrupted bitterly. 

Your brow furrowed, “Why is everyone mad at him?” 

“Come on, lets get you too Ranboo, Tommy and Tubbo, they’ll-” He sighed motioning for Jack Manifold to take his place, “Well they should tell you at least part of it.” 

He led you down off the platform, toward the podium that still stood in the center of L’manburg, at your look of confusion explaining, “Ranboo’s a new comer. Uh- he’s- different, half enderman, we think, eye contact isn’t his thing, so be aware of that.” 

You nodded as he pushed open the door, “Hey- guy’s drop what your doing, this is important-” there was a small thud, “No not literally Ranboo- it’s a figure of speech.” 

You drifted past him into the room, smiling at the flustered looking enderboy, your brother, and his best friend, “Hello!” 

Tommy’s breath hitched, his lip beginning to tremble, “(y/n/n)?” 

“Hi Tommy! Hi Tubbo! Hi person I’m assuming is Ranboo!” 

The tall boy waved awkwardly, “Hi?” 

Fundy cleared his throat awkwardly, “Uh, I have t’get back to work. They’re- confused. I-” He gave Tubbo a ‘this is your problem now’ look before quickly turning and leaving. 

“Uhh... (y/n). You’re- back?” Tubbo laughed as if he couldn’t believe it. 

Tommy was still staring at you in shock, “(y/n)?” 

You drifted across the floor to be near him, “Tommy what’s wrong?” 

Your brother burst into angry tears, “I thought you were gone! I thought that he took you away from me! He- he fucking thought- that bitch thought he could take away my sibling! Just- just because of some- of some fucking-” He fell off into hiccups, tears still falling down his face.

“That bastard! He- he fucking killed- he- and for what? Cuase he didn’t fucking like who you were seeing?” Tommy muttered, moving back past Ranboo to sink into a chair.

“Who? Who didn’t like it?” You asked. 

Tommy let out a bitter laugh as Tubbo looked at you sadly, “It’s- nothing.”

“Hmmm, well, what’s going on here then? Did we win the war?” 

Tubbo nodded, “Wilbur- isn’t here anymore, he- he- sort of betrayed us, and we chased him out. So we’re rebuilding the walls, so he doesn’t do anything else, and me and Tommy are co presidents.” 

You nodded, but were still confused, “What did Wil do? Is it why Phil said he wasn’t his son any more?”

Ranboo gulped awkwardly, “Uh- from what- er I- uh heard, yes.” 

“hmmmm, I hope it wasn’t anything too bad.” You sighed. 

You stayed with them for another hour, talking about L’manburg, and the presidency, until Niki arrived, breathless, having heard you were back, “(y/n/)!” 

“Niki!” You looked over her, something seemed off, less bright, less Niki.

She glanced around the room, “How about we go for a walk, to catch up?” 

There was something desperate in her voice, and you weren’t stupid enough to ignore it, “Of course.” 

She gave you a strained smile, motioning to the door, “Let’s go then.” 

Soon you were out wandering through the city, many of the crowds were gone, though you could see signs of life in open windows, and small restaurants, “Niki what’s going on here? Something isn’t right.” 

“Nothing is right, not since we got rid of Wilbur.”

You looked up at the walls, now seeming to loom twice as tall as they once did, “Tommy and Tubbo- they’re anxious about something.” 

Niki nodded, “The whole country holds its breath. Tommy is angry, and Tubbo is paranoid. They think Wilbur will blow up the country, and that he’ll have help, the walls, the security checkpoints- none of this is what L’manburg was founded for.

“The people are terrified, everyone tells them something different, they’re waiting for the country to be driven into the ground.” 

You gulped (can ghosts gulp?), “Well that isn’t good. Maybe- Maybe- hmmmm, Maybe you should be in charge Niki! You- don’t tell the others- but I think you’d make a better president than any of them!” 

“If I could I would (y/n), but it’s not that simple,” She smiled sadly, looking around with a sigh, “Why don’t you go find your boyfriends? Have you gone to see them yet?” 

~~ “Georgie!” 

The King blinked, quickly pushing back the small sense of hope, he was just imagine things again, he thought to himself, he had to be. 

“George what’s wrong?” 

The voice was closer now, and it was the cold sensation at touched his shoulder that convinced him it was real enough to look, blinking in surprise again at your gray form, hovering next to his desk, “(y/n/n)! Oh my god! (y/n/n)!” 

You grinned, “George!” 

“Your back!” The goggles were quickly pushed off his face, dropped down onto the top of the desk, “Y- your really back!” 

You nodded eagerly, “I missed you! Well- I mean, it wasn’t that long that I was gone. At least I don’t think- anyway I missed you!” 

“I- (y/n) it’s- it’s been nearly a month.” 

You cocked your head, “Huh, that's weird.”

“George who are you talking...” Nick trailed off as he entered the study, “(y/n)?” 

You could see the tears in his eyes as you awkwardly waved, “Hi Nicky.” 

“Holy shit.” He muttered, “I- we thought you were gone- I mean- when- when Wilbur...” 

“When Wilbur what?” You asked with a chuckle, “Everyone keeps saying he’s done something, but no one’s told me what.” 

Both men froze, sharing a looking, “Don’t worry about it.” 

Nick quickly swiped away tears, “So your back?”

You nodded, “I’m back- hey, have you guys noticed how L’manburg’s being all weird now? Niki says Tommy and Tubbo are running the country into the ground.”

“Well- they’ve refused all foreign aid, we tried to offer them help- after the war, paying for damages and such after they sorted out there Wilbur problem,” George sighed, “And so far only Eret’s tried reaching out to talk to us, help with our Dream problem.” 

“Yeah, where is Dream? I miss him and I can’t ping him, cause ghosts don’t have com tablets.” 

“Even if yours hadn’t broken it wouldn’t help. He disappeared after Wilbur- did that thing,” Nick sounded all to broken for your liking, “He hasn’t answered any of our messages.” 

You frowned, “Well that's not like him. Maybe he just left his tablet somewhere- or maybe he just got busy doing something again, you know how he gets during manhunts.” 

“(y/n),” George tried gently, “He- smashed his com tablet, said something about going off the grid, undermining the server. He probably isn’t coming back.” 

You froze, hover in silence for a moment, “No. No that’s not true- he wouldn’t- he wouldn’t leave us! You’re lying to me! He loves us! He’d never leave! It’s not true! He wouldn’t do that! Your lying!”

Nick seemed shocked at the outburst, “(y/n)- we were just as upset but he left- gone insane-” 

“STOP LYING TO ME!” You exploded, “He wouldn’t do that! I know he wouldn’t! Your just lying!” 

They watched you sink to the floor, spectral tears flowing down your cheeks, mumbling, “You’re lying, you’ve gotta be lying, he- he wouldn’t he wouldn’t do that.” 

~~

“Wilbur!” 

Your brother flinched, he’d planned for this, he reminded himself, as soon as he heard the rumor's. 

“(y/n).” He stood up, turning to face you, ignoring how he’d begun to shake. 

He didn’t regret what he’d done. 

At least that was what he told himself. 

He knew what he had had to do, and he done it, and he had no regrets for his actions, because it was all in the plan.

“Wilbur what’re you doing outside L’manburg? I thought they said they chased you out.” 

“I missed it.” He said simply, forcing back the choked noise that had started in his throat upon seeing your grey floating form. 

“Did you miss me? George and Nick said I was gone for almost a month, that that was how long you and Dream were gone for.” 

“Don’t fucking talk about that man.” Wilbur spat. 

At your face of shock and horror at what you said Wilbur grinned, “Oh yeah, I know all about them (y/n). Them, and You, and everything before your death.” 

“Why do you hate them so much?! Can’t you see that they make me happy?! What did they ever do to you?!” 

“THEY TOOK AWAY MY SIBLING! MADE YOU TURN AGAINST ME! AGAINST L’MANBURG!” Wilbur yelled. 

Tears started to slip from your eyes again, “Wil, I never turned against you- your my brother, I love you. Why is it so hard for you to see I’d never turn on you? Who I love has nothing to do with it.” 

“Oh it has everything to do with it!” He laughed, finally managing to shut off the tiny part of his brain that screamed at him to stop, “You’re fucking dead because of it!” 

You blinked, “N- no! It’s not because of them! I died in the war! Dream was trying to protect me! I died so we could be free again!” 

“No (y/n)! You are so fucking stupid! Your dead because I killed you! I killed you because you were turning against me! Because it was the only way to get those fuckers to get there hands off you!” 

You let out a choked sob.

“And guess what? I don’t regret anything. I killed you so that they would suffer! Suffer from loosing you the way I had! And it worked and so none of the cost matters!” 

“No wonder everyone’s mad at you,” You sad shakily, “You’re a monster Wil.” 

“And I’m not the only one.” 

He sounded almost proud, gesturing his chin upward, at a patchwork of scaffolding as being stretched across the sky above L’manburg, distantly you could see someone in a neon green sweater running across the top. 

~~ “Dream, what are you doing?” 

The man only sighed at the serious voice, “Getting revenge. It’s what they would have wanted.” 

“Is it?” 

He finally turned away from the contraption, staring through the slits in his mask at the Spector that hovered in front of him, “So you really are back.” 

“Dream,” You could almost see the wall he had put up when you died, repeating, “What are you doing?” 

“I’m going to destroy L’manburg.” His voice was cold, steely, too close to that which you remembered from the day he and Tommy had their duel. 

“You think that’s going to make things right? You think that’s going to put me- my spirit to rest?” 

He faltered, “It has too. Wilbur killed you, and now he’s going to pay.” 

Slowly you moved closer to him, across the narrow walk way, “Clay why did you leave them? When did you break your com tablet? You knew they needed you.” 

“I- I had too.” The smile on his mask was all to haunting, a broken reminder of the past. 

“They needed you and you left them. You put them aside, for this? To be a villain?” 

“If I’m a villain then so be it.” 

Down below the people of L’manburg were beginning to raise alarms as you spoke, “They love you. I love you. You don’t- you don’t need to be the villain my love.” 

Slowly he reached up, slipping the mask off his face, “I know, I know but- but this is the only way.” 

Gingerly you reached out, hovering your hand right where it would rest to cup his cheek, “It isn’t the only way. You don’t have to do this. You don’t have to cause this destruction.” 

“It’s the only thing I know how to do,” There was anguish seeping in to his voice, “I don’t know if I can do anything else.” 

You longed to embrace him as he fell to his knees, “You don’t have to do this Clay.”

“I don’t know how! I don’t know any other way to make Wilbur pay!” 

“Clay look at me, look at me, there is another way- you don’t have to do this, We love you- we miss you- Nick, George and Me, we can just, climb down and go and find them and then run away together, leave this all behind!” 

“Keep them safe.” He sniffed, wiping away angry tears. 

“Yeah- yeah- we can build a little cottage, and plant flowers in the window boxes- and forget all about this,” You were phasing back into the material world, nearly by Dream’s sheer willpower as he pulled you into his arms, “And we can forget all about this, but only if you don’t do this.”

“I don’t know if I can... (y/n) I don’t know if I’m strong enough.” He sobbed. 

“You are darling. You are. You don’t have to do this. You don’t have to do this Clay, we love you.” 

He sniffed, sitting up a little, one of his arms reaching away, both of your breathing unsteady as you looked up at him, desperation in your eyes...

And then the tnt hit the ground. 

The world exploded into fire, ripping away his words: 

“I love you too.” 

[dreamwraith]

Teleport

Summary: Danny finally learned how to teleport, but where is the 'off' switch? Pairings: Hints of Sam crushing on Danny Warnings: Danny accidentally teleports into the girl’s locker room, but only for a few seconds; he’s as startled as they are. Danny and Tucker have a no-homo thing going on, they should probably just hug it out already.

On Ao3

-

"Hey! Sam! Sam, wait up!"

Sam glanced over her shoulder. When she saw Tucker chasing after her with an anxious look on his face, she stopped walking down the sidewalk. Tucker was able to reach her in no time, but he had to bend over and gulp in large breaths afterward.

"Something wrong, Tucker?" she asked after giving him a few seconds to catch his breath. "I thought I was meeting you and Danny at school today?"

"Well, yeah," Tucker panted, "that was the plan, but…Have you seen Danny?"

She raised an eyebrow. "No. Why? Did something happen? Is he in trouble?"

Tucker waved his hand, chuckling between gasps. "No…well, yes…well, kind of…"

"Tucker…"

"No, he isn't in any real danger. Yes, his secret may be in jeopardy."

Sam widened her eyes. "His secret might be in what? What happened exactly?"

Tucker stood up straight, using his beret to wipe his sweaty forehead. "Well, this morning, while Danny and I were walking to school, he had a breakthrough on teleporting. He practiced it a couple times by teleporting up and down the sidewalk when no one was around, getting farther and farther away. He was getting really good at it!"

"O-kay," Sam said slowly, "so somebody saw him doing this?"

"Um. No."

"What went wrong then?"

"Well, we were almost to school, so he changed back to Fenton. But a few seconds after he did, he disappeared and—"

POP!

"Tucker!" Danny jumped on Tucker. His best friend screamed and would have shot three feet in the air if Danny's Hug of Death was any less secure. "Finally! I've been trying to get back to you for who knows how long now! Oh, hey, Sam! Wait, where'd you come from?" He loosened his hold on the trembling Tucker and looked around. "This isn't where I left you, Tuck…"

"He came to find me after you apparently disappeared," Sam explained for their shell-shocked friend. "Danny, what's going on? Are—"

"I can't stop teleporting, Sam!" Danny all but shouted, unwrapping one arm from around Tucker so he could wave it around for emphasis. "One minute I'm walking peacefully down the sidewalk, the next I'm in my room! So far I've teleported to school three times, to the Ghost Zone twice, my room five times, yours once, Tucker's three, Vlad's house one time too many, and once I somehow ended up, like, fifty feet in the air! I can't control it!" He released Tucker, and latched onto Sam's shoulders, earning a surprised gasp from the Goth. "Make it stop, Sam! I can't take it anymore!"

"Danny, calm down!" She brushed Danny's hands off her shoulders, but he quickly grabbed her wrists. She scowled. "Danny, let go of me before I show a very incriminating photo of you and Tucker to Jazz."

Danny's hands flew away from Sam like she was an evil ghost in disguise. "I thought you burned that!" He hesitated before giving Tucker a one-armed hug again.

Sam smirked. "Why would I get rid of perfectly good blackmail material? Is there a reason you keep grabbing onto us, Danny?"

"Yeah, dude," Tucker said, finally regaining his wits enough to eye his strange friend. "It's getting awkward."

"I am being teleported all over the place without my consent," Danny reminded them, "can't I get a little sympathy from you guys?" They gave him bland, completely unsympathetic looks. "Alright, fine. By holding onto you stationary people, I'm hoping you will anchor me and stop me from teleporting."

"Wouldn't we just teleport with you though?" Sam asked.

Tucker's eyes grew large and he struggled against Danny's hold, but even in human form Danny was stronger than him.

"No," Danny grunted, "because it takes a lot of control to be able to teleport more than one person, and clearly I don't posses any control over this, whatsoever."

Tucker relaxed but his nose wrinkled. "It still feels awkward, Danny. Go hug, Sam."

"I'm not hugging you," Danny protested. "This is a manly arm grip!"

"It doesn't feel very manly."

"Doesn't look like it either," Sam said, smirking.

Danny huffed. "Fine." He dragged Tucker closer to Sam and then threw his other arm around her neck before she could protest. Sam gasped and struggled, upset—if her red face was anything to go by—but Danny started walking, and his friends were forced to follow. "Alright! Now this is teamwork!"

"More like kidnapping!" Sam shouted.

Tucker teased, "You know you like it, Sam."

"Oh, yeah, I just love to be held against my will."

"It's only until this stops," Danny tried to reason.

"Oh? And when will that be?"

"Uh…I don't know…"

She sighed, resigned. "This all started after you changed back into Danny Fenton, right?"

"Yeah…"

"Well, maybe you'll have more control of it if you're in your ghost form. Seems to me your ghost half would have more control over your powers than your human half would."

Danny hung his head, wishing he could face-palm without losing his anchors. "I should have thought of that…"

"That's what I'm here for. Now hurry up and change while the streets are empty."

Danny nodded, and in a flash of light, he became Amity Park's number one ghostly hero.

After a few seconds, Sam cleared her throat. "You'll have to let go of us to test this, Danny…"

Danny flinched. "B-but what if it doesn't work and I start teleporting like crazy again?"

"Then we'll just have to think of something else!" Sam hissed, "Now let go of us before somebody sees Danny Phantom hanging out with Danny Fenton's friends!"

Danny grimaced. He slowly, very slowly, released his best friends. They walked a few steps farther ahead before stopping and facing Danny again. He had his eyes pinched shut and his hands fisted at his sides.

"Did I teleport?" he asked, keeping his eyes sealed.

"No." Tucker chuckled. "But you look constipated. Loosen up, dude."

Danny cracked an eye open, but upon seeing the same setting as before, he grinned, and jumped in place. "Alright! Way to go, Sam!" He went to high five her, but seconds away from making contact, Danny became consumed by green mist. The mist disappeared along with Danny, followed by a popping sound.

Sam lowered her hand slowly, and exchanged glances with Tucker. "Uh, I guess it didn't work…"

Tucker sighed. "We might as well get to school, Sam. He's not going to show up here any time soon…"

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

POP!

"Paradise Lost!"

Danny's momentum carried him through the motion of the high-five, but because Sam's hand wasn't there to meet his, his swat carried into a somersault in midair. "Whoa!" He righted himself and jerked his head from side to side. The faces staring up at him were familiar, but the location wasn't since only teachers and their favorites were allowed inside the teacher's lounge.

Danny laughed nervously. "Um, uh, whoops?"

Mr. Lancer was the first to regain his composure. He stood up and fixed his tie in a nervous habit. "Mr. …Phantom, what is the meaning of this?" Sweat noticeably broke out over his forehead.

Danny flushed. "Um, I'm having a few technical issues with my powers…" He cleared his throat and floated with his back straight, adopting his 'hero' voice. "Sorry for the inconvenience, citizens. I'll just be going…"

But after a few seconds, Danny still floated in place above their table, staring fixedly into space. The teachers looked at each other in confusion. The Art teacher pulled out a sketch pad and started sketching the focused Ghost Boy in profile.

"…Any second now…"

If they had crickets in the staff lounge, they'd be chirping.

"…Any second…"

Mr. Felucca stepped forward, his index finger poised in question. "What power are you having difficulties with, Mr. Ghost Boy? As a scientist, perhaps I can be of assistance."

Danny grimaced. "Uh, actually—"

Ms. Tetslaff slammed a fist on the table, and the sudden violence made Danny start in surprise. "If it's power he's having trouble with, it's me he should be coming to for help! I'll whip him into shape!"

He winced, and drifted away from her. "Uh, it's not really a physical power—"

"I have studied many classical stories that teach great, historical lessons," Mr. Lancer said. "Perhaps one of those will be of some use to you, Mr. Phantom?"

"Thanks, but I don't—"

The Mythology teacher scoffed. "Your literature is of no use to a being of exponential power. My myths have way more value to him than your 'fiction'."

"I don't need—"

The Psychology teacher snapped her fingers. "It may be psychological! Please feel free to tell me all about your problems. I'm here to help!"

"I don't have a psychological issue! Why does everyone always think that?"

Ms. Loretta gazed at Danny's skinny body with a critical eye. "Perhaps it has something to do with malnourishment. Do ghosts have to eat? I can make you something, boy."

"…Uh…no…"

The Government teacher trembled in his seat, staring up at Danny in fear. "W-we should call somebody about this! Call the Fentons! Call the Guys in White! They'll know what to do!"

The Art teacher reached out and pinched a fold of Danny's jumpsuit. "Is this latex?"

"Hey!" Danny knocked his hand away and floated a few paces away from him. "No touching!"

"We should give him a physical!"

"He needs to learn a moral lesson!"

"What he needs is more meat on his bones!"

"Oh, how am I going to capture that glow…"

"Something must be wrong with the inner workings of his mind!"

"The FENTONS!"

"Perhaps it is his molecular structure that is causing the problem!"

"QUIET!" Danny shouted. The teachers instantly quieted. "There is nothing wrong with my body, my mind, or my morals, alright? I just developed a new power and I'm having some difficulty controlling it. That's all!"

The teachers backed away from the panting ghost boy.

Mr. Felucca was the first to gather his courage. He asked, "What kind of power?"

Danny relaxed. "Teleport—"

POP!

The teachers gasped, and stared at the spot where the Ghost Boy had once been.

"NOOO!" the Art teacher cried, and threw down his half-complete sketch. "I was so close!"

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

POP!

"—ation."

"Breach in Sector 8! We have a breach in Sector 8!"

Before Danny had a chance to gather his bearings, several ghost nets crashed into him and bound him to the floor. Where the net touched him, little bolts of electricity shot into his system like static jumping to a doorknob. Danny growled and struggled against the painful bindings, but the whirring of a ghost gun made him freeze. He looked up into the tinted sunglasses of a GiW operative.

"D-Don't move, Phantom!"

Danny's eyes half-lidded in boredom. "Oh great. The Mr. Clean Groupies…"

"Quiet, ghost," another agent ordered. "We have you surrounded."

Danny looked past the two standing over him. "Let me guess, the reinforcements are invisible?"

Danny wasn't able to see his eyes, but the second agent's brows furrowed, and his mouth turned down.. "I don't like your tone, boy."

Danny used his infamous cocky smirk. "Like I care? With only two agents, why should I worry? I could take you guys out easy."

The first agent, the one who had stuttered, gulped. Without warning, he shot at Danny.

Danny gasped, and dove to the side. He needn't have bothered, though. The shot was way off target. It crashed into the wall five feet behind Danny.

"Agent N!"

Danny eyed the scared agent warily. Like cornered wolves, frightened hunters packing heat were dangerous. "New agent?" he asked the other guy.

He grunted. "As green as they come. Listen, kid," he faced Agent N, "there is a rhythm to these things. We exchange witty banter, and then we start shootin' them."

Agent N nodded his head rapidly. "Y-yes, sir. Understood, sir! Should I tranquilize him, sir?"

"Wow, he is green."

The senior agent scowled. "Tranquilizers don't work on ghosts, recruit. Get your facts straight!"

Agent N stuttered apologies. Danny rolled his eyes and wished he would teleport out of there already.

"W-what do we do then, s-sir?"

The other agent grinned sadistically. "We shock him until he loses consciousness."

Danny flinched, but tried to hide it. "Gee, so humane. You must be very proud of your species."

"I am." The senior agent pulled a button switch out of his pocket, and poised his thumb above the large red button. Danny breathed in a deep breath, readying a Ghostly Wail. Passing out and transforming in front of them wasn't an option. "Or, I don't care about yours. Prepare yourself, ghost scum."

POP!

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

POP!

The first thing Danny noticed was the absence of annoying static shocks. The second thing he noticed was the absence of everything else. Including air. He was really glad he took a deep breath before, though the breath was almost stolen from him when he looked down at the Earth. Like, the Earth, the blue planet Earth.

I'm in space! he thought, grinning goofily. He gazed around himself in wonder. He had been to space before, but he'd been too busy fighting to really admire the scenery.

Stars in every direction, as far as the eye could see, he was on the sunny side of the Earth, but he could see the moon poking out from behind the rocky planet. A comet was off in the distance, its ice and dust particles trailing behind it as the solar wind tore at the ice rock. He closed his eyes, and lights danced behind his eyelids as the solar wind hit him.

Danny sagged, and his expression became dreamy. It's so beautiful…this just makes me want to be an astronaut even more! I wish I could stay—Air! He gripped his throat. Air! I need air!

POP!

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

POP!

"Chronicles of Narnia!"

Danny gasped in air, like he'd never tasted anything so sweet. Space was awesome, but it'd be a lot better with oxygen.

"Danny Phantom!"

Danny spun around, and found his first period class staring up at him the same way he had stared at Outer Space. A nervous smile worked its way onto his lips. "I'm just dropping by. I'll be gone in a second, so please, don't let me interrupt."

The class started whispering to each other in excitement, looking like they were seconds away from mobbing him. In the back row, he saw Sam scowl. She hated his 'hero' voice. Tucker waved discreetly to him, and Danny subtly nodded back. He was glad Valerie didn't have his first hour…

"Mr. Phantom!"

Danny looked over his shoulder at Mr. Lancer. "Uh, hello again…"

Lancer frowned. "I take it you haven't fixed your 'problem'?"

"…No."

"Then perhaps you would like to sit in for my lesson," he said, smirking like he had just won a contest. "Perhaps you will learn something."

The students screamed. No longer able to contain themselves, they jumped out of their seats and rushed for Danny. He floated out of their reach, feeling nervous and slightly nauseous. Tucker and Sam joined them in order to keep up appearances, and Danny was annoyed to see Tucker filming it all on his PDA. His classmates gathered below him, shouting for autographs.

Danny backed away, breathing fast. "Uh, I don't know if that's such a good idea! Besides, I probably won't be here for much longer, or at least I really hope not, so I—"

POP!

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

POP!

"…and that is why, I believe we can use the town's little ghost problem to our…" Vlad trailed off when it became apparent he didn't have his audience's full attention. "…advantage…"

Despite the meeting being comprised of mostly professional reporters and self-important civilians, they were whispering rudely amongst each other, laughing and pointing at something behind Vlad. He looked behind him, but all he saw was the red curtain. His eyes narrowed thoughtfully.

"…As I was saying," Vlad said, turning back to the microphone on the podium, "with an interest in ghosts growing worldwide, more and more people will be traveling to Amity Park in search of the fabled beings—one in particular, I might add. I say we encourage this by building tourist attractions that will bring in large crowds of people."

"What?" a familiar voice exclaimed. Vlad smirked, his suspicion confirmed. Danny Phantom flew in front of him, his arms thrown out. "You can't bring more people here! I knew you were a fruitloop, Vlad, but this is going a bit far!"

"Ah," Vlad said suavely, "Amity Park's famous Ghost Boy. So nice of you to join us."

"Cut the crap, Vlad…er, Mr. Mayor…" Danny blushed and glanced over his shoulder at the flashing cameras and excited audience.

Vlad chuckled. "If it puts you more at ease, you're welcome to use my first name. It's the least I can do for our star attraction."

Danny refocused his righteous gaze on Vlad, but he floated to the side of him so his back was no longer to the cameras. "You can't bring tourists here, Masters."

"Oh? And why not? It'd be very profitable for this town."

"You mean it'd be very profitable for you," Danny corrected. "And you can't bring them here because, in case you haven't noticed, this town isn't very safe. The people living here know to run when a ghost attacks, but tourists will get closer because that's what they came to see. People could get seriously hurt…"

"Do you doubt your ability to protect them, little hero?" Vlad questioned, smirking mockingly. "We can use the funds the tourists bring in to hire more competent ghost hunters, so I assure you there is no need for such fear."

Danny scowled at the 'competent' part. "You're making a mistake, Masters. You can hire a hundred ghost hunters, but they won't be enough to—"

POP!

Vlad raised an eyebrow. Interesting… He hadn't expected the boy to develop his teleportation powers so soon, but his apparent lack of control more than made up for his accelerated growth. He'd make the boy suffer a while longer before he approached him.

He turned back to his murmuring audience. "Any questions?"

The crowd shot to their feet.

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

Ms. Tetslaff blew her whistle. Her students looked at her with hope in their eyes and sweat covering every inch of their exhausted bodies. "That's enough for today," she said. "Shower up, you lazy maggots!" The students silently cheered and limped toward the locker rooms.

Tucker almost fell over in relief. He'd take helping Danny fight ghosts over gym any day. He was tempted to curl into a ball and fake dehydration, just so he could sit and relax for a few seconds. Sadly, it was not to be. Sam bounced to his side, and Tucker for the second time that day cursed the girl's athleticism.

She grabbed his arm, and forced him to stumble toward the locker rooms. He muttered complaints, but being the good friend she was, she ignored them.

"Any sign of Danny since this morning?" she asked him quietly.

"Once," Tucker replied. Even his voice sounded tired. "He made a brief appearance in third period chemistry class, and I mean brief. He was there for all but five seconds, but it was still enough to disrupt the whole class and get us out of homework." He grinned. "It was awesome! What about you?"

Sam shrugged. "He popped into second period Art Class. Everybody started sketching him, including Mr. Coal." She smirked. "Danny looked so embarrassed."

Tucker chuckled. "I bet. How long did he stay?"

"Five or ten minutes. There were a lot of disappointed groans after he disappeared, but Mr. Coal managed to finish. It looks really cool too…I also heard he made an appearance for History Class, and Government." She rolled her eyes. "The Government teacher tried to call the Guys in White, but he got taken captive by his class."

Tucker laughed. "Oh man! I wish I had seen that!"

"We can ask Danny all about it once we see him again," Sam pointed out. "If he stays long enough…"

Tucker chuckled.

They split into their gender specific locker rooms, waving goodbye. Still chuckling, Tucker grabbed his shower supplies and strolled into the shower area. Because of a recent ghost attack, tarps littered the area, for once creating some much needed privacy. Too bad Danny was missing it. Mr. Modesty would most definitely appreciate the seclusion.

Tucker stripped down, and was just about to turn on the water when…

POP!

"Tucker!"

Tucker jumped.

Danny nearly hugged him like he had that morning, but he stopped at the last second. He pulled slowly away, making a face. "Uh, you're my best friend and everything, Tuck," he said, "and I love you like a brother, but I am so not touching you when you're naked…"

Tucker hurriedly wrapped his lower half in his towel. "Well no asked you to!" He looked at his best friend, noticing the tousled white hair, the tear in his jumpsuit, and the way his eyes twitched and darted around the room. "Having a rough day, Danny?"

"Like you wouldn't believe!" Danny pulled on his own hair—explaining why it was so messy—and stared at Tucker with unnaturally large eyes. "I never know where I'm going, or when I'm going there! It's all completely random! And I've seen things, Tuck! I've seen things…"

Tucker held his fists against his naked chest, mocking a scared expression. "Were they dead people?" he whispered.

Danny blinked, scowled, and crossed his hands over his chest, sulking. "Oh yeah, ha ha. Laugh at the poor kid who just saw Ember and Skulker making out."

Tucker's jaw dropped and his face turned slightly green.

Danny smirked. "Yeah! Not so funny now, is it!"

POP!

Tucker stared at the empty space before him for a moment, wondering where his traveling friend would end up next.

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

POP!

It happened very fast.

Danny saw what every straight guy dreams about, committed it unintentionally to memory, and was then deafened by shrieks. He screamed too and quickly covered his eyes with his hands. He turned around and tried to fly out of the Girl's Locker Room, but he forgot to go intangible, and he crashed into the lockers. The girls started throwing towels, hairbrushes, and other items at him.

"Sorry! I'm sorry!" he shouted over their screams, cowering in a corner. "I have no control over where I'm going!"

POP!

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

POP!

Danny was never so glad to hear that sound. Still, he stayed in a fetal position, too afraid to see where he had teleported to. Maybe if I stay still, he thought desperately, I won't teleport!

"It's alright, Danny," a kind and familiar voice said. "You're safe here."

Danny opened his eyes slowly, and stared up at Clockwork. The Time Ghost in, the form of an old man, smiled kindly back down at him.

Danny grinned and jumped to his feet. "Clockwork! Man, am I glad to see you! Listen, you have to help me! I can't stop teleporting everywhere, and I'm seeing things I really don't want to be seeing, going places I shouldn't be going, and you probably already know about all of this, because you're the Master of Time and everything, but I have to tell you because—"

"Danny, you have something on—"

"—I'm freaking out here, because I can't stop teleporting—"

"Danny, your head—"

"—and I'm seeing things I should not be not be seeing, and it won't stop, Clockwork, make it stop!" Danny leaned his head against his Guardian/mentor's chest, whimpering pathetically. "Make it stop…"

Clockwork hesitated, unsure. He reached up a hand, and patted Danny awkwardly on the shoulder. "I…I'm sorry, Danny," he said, sounding sincerely apologetic. "It's not my place to help you."

Danny's shoulders slumped in defeat. He drew away from the timeless ghost and shook the hand off his shoulder. "Yeah…I should have figured that…Sorry for putting you on the spot, Clockwork."

Clockwork changed into a toddler. He sighed, and shook his head. "There is nothing to apologize for, Danny. You ask far less of me than most ghosts. However," his tone made Danny glance despondently up at him, "I can tell you it will end soon."

Danny straightened, and his eyes brightened with hope. "Really?"

The Time Master nodded sagely. "Indeed." He smirked, and it was very odd to see such a sarcastic look on a kid's face. "By the way, Danny. You have something on your head."

Danny frowned. He brought his hand to his head and pressed down, immediately feeling something lacy. He grabbed it and brought it down to eye level. It was a white bra. Danny let out a half-yelp and quickly tossed it away from him. He wiped his hand against his pants, making a face.

Clockwork chuckled, now a middle-aged man. "I thought you were over the 'cootie' stage by now, Danny."

Danny grimaced. "I'm fourteen, and I have an older sister. You do the math."

Clockwork nodded. "Fair enough. You have ten seconds before you teleport again."

Danny looked dismayed. "So soon? Can you tell me where I'm going?"

"Home, Danny. To Fenton Works." Danny smiled in relief. "But you won't get a warm welcome."

He frowned. "What do you mean by that?"

"Five…"

"Clockwork!"

"Four…"

"I can't believe you're counting down!"

"Three…"

"Whoever heard of Master of all Time counting down the time?"

"Two…"

"'Hey, I'm Clockwork! I'm counting down because I'm awesome like that—'"

"One."

POP!

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

POP!

"GHOST!"

"Ghost!"

"Warning! Warning! Ecto-entity in the lab."

Danny blinked. "Wow. What a welcome home…"

His mom grabbed an ecto gun off one of the lab tables and shot at Danny. He gasped and quickly dove beneath it, escaping the shot by a hair. Jack shot a net at Danny, but it missed him completely. Still in a ball, it ricocheted off the wall and expanded over Maddie, knocking her to the ground and sending her gun flying. Danny clamped his hands over his mouth, trying to smother his giggles.

"Jack!" Maddie shouted angrily, struggling inside the net.

"Sorry, sweet cheeks!" Jack dropped the net launcher and grabbed the weapon they'd been working on before Danny arrived. "I'll get you out of there as soon as I capture this ghost!"

"Jack! We haven't fixed the—"

"BONSAI!" Jack pulled the trigger. Ectoplasmic goop shot into his face.

"—trigger…"

Danny wasn't sure whether to be embarrassed by his father (again), or be grateful he messed up an attack (again). He just chuckled weakly, and rubbed the back of his neck.

POP!

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

POP!

As soon as the green mist cleared, Danny looked around his new surroundings. What he saw made him grimace, and not just because the green and gold color scheme was an eyesore.

"Ah, Daniel. I was wondering when you'd 'pop' in."

Vlad stepped out of a darkened hallway, haunting smirk in place. Danny spun around and crossed his arms over his chest, lifting an eyebrow. "Do you always have to make a creepy entrance, or is this another fruitloop thing?"

Vlad huffed, looking offended. "It's dramatic, Daniel, not creepy."

"Where'd you learn it from, Villainy for Dummies? Seems like overcompensation if you ask me."

Vlad's eyes flashed red, before he schooled his expression into one of mocking regret. "I was going to offer you my expertise on teleporting, but if you're going to be immature, I have more important things to do." He turned around, walking back into the dark hallway.

Danny gasped, and quickly flew in front of the man. "Whoa, hold on!" He held up his hands in front of Vlad, forcing him to stop. "You can stop this? You can make me stop teleporting?" Vlad nodded, and Danny smiled happily. "Great! I—Wait." The smile fell from his face, and he eyed the man suspiciously. "What's in it for you?"

Vlad's lips twisted into a smirk. "No longer naïve enough to expect anything for free. I'm proud of you, little badger. My price is the usual."

"Renounce my dad and become your evil apprentice?" Danny crossed his arms again. "Forget it, Vlad."

Vlad shrugged his shoulders. "Then enjoy the rest of your life filled with uncertainty." He walked around Danny, raising a hand in farewell. "Ta."

Danny winced. He chewed on his bottom lip, thinking. He hated teleporting. If he ever got out of the rut he had fallen into, he swore the power would definitely be crossed off his list…He groaned, and flew after Vlad. "Vlad wait!"

Vlad halted, his expression triumphant. "Yes?"

Danny refused to meet his eyes. "I…The reward isn't worth the price, Vlad, but…will you teach me to control this power for…Mom's cell number?"

Vlad's eyes sparkled in interest. "You'll give me her phone number?"

It was difficult, but Danny managed to keep from grinning triumphantly. "She'll probably never forgive me, but yes. I mean, it's not like you'll get anywhere with it…"

Vlad smiled cockily. "I assure you, Daniel, I can be quite charming. I'll be your legal father in no time." Danny gagged, and Vlad rolled his eyes. "I suppose we have a deal?" Vlad held out his hand.

Danny stared at it, making a show of hesitating. "Alright…" He reached out and grabbed the other hybrids hand. "Deal."

POP!

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

POP!

Danny blinked, and when his eyes opened, it wasn't Vlad's ugly décor that greeted his sight, but Amity's newspaper office. People occupied cubicles, writing down stories on computers and scribbling notes in their notebooks, but no sign of Vlad.

"No!" Danny screamed, frantically searching the office for his savior. He could have followed him in ghost form, right? The sound of typing and pencils scribbling on paper instantly ceased, but Danny didn't notice. "I was so close to ending this!" He ran a hand through his hair, pacing back and forth on the open air. "I finally outsmarted the creep, and I get whooshed off before I can even celebrate! Where's justice in that? Is this some great cosmic joke? Just—"

POP!

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

POP!

"GHOST!"

"Jack! Get this net off me!"

"—how many people are laughing at me? The Observants—"

POP!

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

POP!

"Danny Phantom!"

"—are probably having a grand ol' time laughing at me, the jerks. No doubt Vlad finds this whole thing amusing—"

POP!

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

POP!

"Breach in Sector 11! Again!"

"—because he's a total bastard like that. Clockwork, Master of all Annoyingness, acted—"

POP!

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

POP!

"BEWARE!"

"—all sincere, but I bet he's laughing on the inside!"

POP!

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

POP!

"Mr. Phantom! A few questions—"

"And don't even get me started on my friends—"

POP!

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

POP!

"—probably laughing about it at this very moment! Some friends!"

"Danny?"

Danny spun around. His friends stared up at him, along with the whole Casper High cafeteria. He was floating over the lunch line, and even the lunch ladies were gaping openly at him. Slop slipped off one of their spoons.

Danny laughed. "Great. Just great. Of course I'd wind up here, again."

"Danny," Sam hissed, "go invisible!"

Considering the students were starting to rush in his direction, that was sound advice. Danny turned invisible. His fans slowed, groaning in disappointment, but Danny felt no sympathy. He placed a hand on Sam's shoulder, and whispered, "I'll meet you guys at our table." She nodded and whispered the message to Tucker.

Danny sat in his designated seat and placed his head in his hands, just taking time to relax and not think about anything. A few minutes later, Tucker and Sam sat at the table on either side of him.

"Danny?" Sam asked quietly. "Are you still here?"

Danny nodded his head, but realized they couldn't see it. He sighed. "Yes."

Tucker stuffed some mystery meat into his mouth. "So how's your day been?" he asked cheerfully.

Danny groaned.

"Aw, it can't be that bad." He grinned, and nudged what he hopped was Danny's shoulder and not his head. "Sam says you teleported into the girl's locker room while they were changing…"

Sam stabbed her salad, growling low in her throat. She muttered what Danny assumed were threats against mankind.

"They nearly killed me, Tuck."

"Yeah, but you would have died a happy man!"

Danny's lips twitched. "True…"

Sam slammed her spork down, her face flaming. "We are never speaking of it again, and you—" she pointed a threatening finger at Danny's seat "—are going to forget what you saw. Got it?"

"…I don't think I can, Sam…"

Sam growled, and Tucker laughed. Danny smiled, though they couldn't see it, and snuck a fry from Tucker's tray. Being invisible had its perks.

"The school is in an uproar, Danny," Sam said after a minute of silence. "…More than usual. Valerie is going crazy trying to find you, Paulina constantly fixes her makeup, and the teachers seem to be competing against each other…"

Tucker nodded. "There's even a bet going around about where you'll pop in next!"

Danny raised an unseen eyebrow. "Do I want to know who started the bet, Tuck…?"

Tucker coughed into his fist. "Depends on what you plan to do to him—or her! For all we know, the evil, clever, and no doubt charming mastermind might have been a girl."

Danny rolled his eyes, and stole another fry from the 'clever mastermind'. "Uh-huh."

"Have you learned any control yet?" Sam asked.

Danny grumbled. "No. I convinced Vlad to help me, though."

"How'd you manage that?" Sam asked.

He smirked slyly. "By offering my mom's cell phone number."

Tucker frowned. "But your mom doesn't—" His eyes cleared in understanding. He smiled at Danny. "Niiice, dude."

"So, you know how to stop now?" Sam asked.

Danny sighed. "No. Before he had a chance to tell me, I teleported away."

"Well," Tucker said, "that explains the rant. That must have been really frustrating."

"I wasn't ranting!" Danny protested. "I was…expressing my anger to the universe."

"In other words, ranting," Sam concluded.

"…Alright fine, I ranted."

"Maybe there's a pattern to it," Sam suggested. "You've been here for a while. What are you doing differently now?"

Danny shrugged. "Talking to you guys, focusing on not teleporting so I have a chance to relax."

"Maybe that's the answer then. You just have to concentrate on your surroundings and on staying in one place."

He grimaced. "I don't know, Sam. What about when I—"

POP!

Sam groaned, and leaned back in her chair. "Great. Here we go again."

Tucker chuckled. "Look on the bright side, Sam. At least the bet—that I had no part in making—is still on. I'm going to be rich!" He went to grab a fry, but the bucket was empty. He frowned down at his tray. "Where'd my fries go?"

[randomshyperson]

Wanda Maximoff/Reader - Land of Thieves - #ChapterEight

GIF is not mine.

Summary: When you were a child, you swore that no matter how high the reward in your head, she could always count on you. Life as an outlaw in the west is not easy, but you believe that train robberies are still easier than asking a pretty girl to dance. Land of Thieves, also know as your love story with Wanda Maximoff in the Wild West.

AO3> Land of Thieves

Warnings:  18+, explicit language, explicit violence, slow burn, childhood friends to lovers, cursing, blood. Chapters Warnings: Slightly smut, panic attacks.

Words: +40K (i can’t do math sorry)

tags: @mionemymind​ 

Something changed in your dynamic with Wanda. There was a tension, a longing. It made you hot and uncomfortable, hyper aware of her presence everywhere.

Even now, doing an activity as mundane as washing the dishes, while you caught a glimpse of Wanda sitting on a bench, cleaning her weapons with a rag, you tried to keep your attention on the chores, but your gaze returned to the woman a few feet in front of you, who didn't even look at you.

You wanted her to touch you again. And you couldn't stop thinking about it. But Wanda didn't seem willing to ease your suffering. She was torturing you, you realized. Maybe it was revenge, or maybe she just wasn't ready yet. Either way, she had you in her hand like a lost puppy, following her around the camp wherever she went.

Deciding that you needed to reclaim a minimal amount of control over yourself, you finished your chores, and headed toward Steve's tent, readily accepting whatever out-of-camp duties he had for you. Steve was surprised at your excitement to leave, but said nothing. He just explained that he needed a letter to be delivered to Stephen, who was no longer in camp. You offered to take the letter to the doctor all the way to town, and decided that you would buy yourself a new horse while you were in Saint Denis.

On the way back to your tent, you waved hello to Bruce, who was sitting by the campfire, cleaning his boots. He looked peaceful, and you expected him to talk to Nat about the two of them. He smiled and turned his attention back to the activity.

You took a jacket, and put on your holster, and your hat. You also remembered to take the little money you had saved from the last service. 

Walking out of your tent toward the horses, you stroked the mane of your temporary mount. He was obedient enough, but you would sell him to add in the money needed for a new horse. It was strange to replace Knight, but it was unavoidable. 

- Where are you going? - Wanda's voice sounded behind you, curious. You were slightly startled, and tried not to show your nervousness at seeing her. 

- Saint Denis. I'm delivering a letter to Stephen, and I need a new horse.

- Oh, great. I'm going to Rhodes. We can ride together halfway. 

Feeling your heart racing, you did your best not to sound too excited.

- Sure thing, Wanda. - You gave her a gentle smile, but she just looked at you with a glint in her eye that made your legs tremble.

- Good. - She said, walking toward her horse. You nodded slightly, and mounted yours.

You bit the inside of your cheek as you rode side by side in silence. It's been many minutes since you left the camp, and you are starting to get a little too anxious, so I decided to make conversation.

- So... what are you going to do in Rhodes?

Wanda looks calm as she rides alongside you, and she keeps looking forward. 

 - Steve told me to help Carol with the two families in town. - She says - As I understand it, she needs someone to infiltrate the Braithwaite mansion while she focuses on the other family, the Grays.

You nod with a grumble showing that you heard what she said. 

- Be careful. - You ask, and Wanda smiles mischievously.

- I will. 

You are silent again, and Wanda starts humming softly. You ride for a few more minutes when she speaks again.

- When I finish my work here, I'll meet you in Saint Denis. - She says, and you ignore the uncompensated beating of her heart.

- All right. - You say simply.

And then you arrive at the entrance of Rhodes. Wanda stops her horse right next to yours, and leans in to give you a lingering kiss on the mouth. You sigh at the contact, but she pulls away when you begin to properly respond. She smiles, and waves, riding away. 

You shake your head, trying not to look like a complete mess, and turn your horse toward the road, riding all the way to Saint Denis.

Stephen seems happy. And you quickly find out why when his wife comes home while you are on the porch talking. Christine must be about five months pregnant, and you blink your eyes wide when you notice. She smiles, kisses you on the cheek and tells you how much you have grown, and then goes into the living room to put away the groceries.

- God, Doctor, three kids! - You exclaim with excitement, turning to Stephen, who laughs, leaning on the balcony ledge. 

- I know, I know. - He says. - It was a surprise really. A good one, but still a surprise.

- And how are the girls? - you ask, leaning your elbow on the edge, looking at Stephen. 

- Exceptionally mischievous. - He answers with a smile. - Much the same as you used to be, actually.

You laugh, turning to look at the city. You and Stephen are silent for a moment before he speaks again, now in a more serious tone.

- Did Steve tell you what the letter was about? - he asks without looking at you. You watch an elderly couple in the street below walk across the alley.

- No, he just told me to bring it to you.

Stephen lets out a sigh, you wonder why he is being so mysterious about this.

- He wants to go back to New Austin. - he says, and you frown, turning your head to him in surprise. - He wants me to get a big enough scam to get you all back there.

You bite your lips, thinking about it.

- Why can't we stay here? - you ask. 

 - This region is becoming civilized very quickly. - He explains. - The government is determined to put an end to outlaws in this place. Especially here in Saint Denis. The rich are moving here after all, and they don't like cowboys.

- From the look on your face, you already have a scam for us. - You say after a moment, and Stephen gives a sideways smile.

- Actually, you've already found my tip. - He says finally turning to you. - I heard about the two feudal families in Rhodes. They are sunk in gold in that place. - He explains and you raise your eyebrows in surprise. - The Braithwaites supply nearly all the liquor in this town. And the Grays own nearly all the businesses in Rhodes.

- This also means that they are dangerous. - You counter, and Stephen lets out a chuckle, but nods.

- Of course they are. - He says. - That much gold will not go unprotected.

- Do you have any idea how we are going to steal them? 

Stephen sighs, running his hand through his hair to pull it back, and then leans back on the ledge with his arms.

- I haven't really thought about it yet. - he confesses. - But it will have something to do with their Moonshine, I'm sure. You will all be able to infiltrate the farms if you use the transport wagons.

- I see. - You say. - Write everything you know to Steve, maybe he can think of something too.  - You are silent for a moment before you speak again - By the way, any chance of you participating in this job?

The man laughs lightly, denying with his head.

- I don't have anything in New Austin. - he says. - My whole life is here in the south. I can't risk leaving Christine alone to take care of everything. She needs me here, and I want to stay.

You nod in agreement. You don't understand the feeling that settles in your chest when you imagine what it would be like to have something like this.

- Come have some tea while I write my letter. - He invites you with a smile, and you accompany him into his house.

You keep Stephen's letter in the saddlebag of your saddle, not wanting to crumple the paper in your jacket pocket. You hug Stephen goodbye, and tell him to write whenever he can. You end up not meeting his daughters, because they don't come home from church until the time you left, but you tell Stephen to give them a kiss for you. 

Riding towards the stable, you dismount your horse as you enter the establishment, while the owner of the place walks up to you looking excited.

- Oh, hello young lady! - He greets you. - How can I help you today?

- I need a new horse. - You tell the man as you hand the reins to the other stable employee.

- Oh, great. - He says and walks over to your horse, looking at it as if he were evaluating it. - Do you want to keep this one with us, or are you going to sell it?

- Sell. - You say. 

- And the documents?

- No documents. - You reply, if the man made any judgment with that information, he did not show it.

- Of course this will affect the value. - He comments. - But I'll take it, yes. Come with me, I'll show you the horses we have.

You walk toward the horses stored in the stables. There are not many, but the breeds look good. 

- We have Arabian horses, thoroughbreds, and appaloosas. - Comments the man signaling to the horses in front of him. - Oh, and we also have the big one there, a Missouri.

You nod, and walk toward the horses. They are all lovely, and seem obedient. You need one that is not so easily startled by gunfire, but you don't tell the seller that. 

He waits patiently beside you, whistling as you look at the horses. You let out a sigh, making your decision.

- How much for Missouri? - you ask, looking at the salesman. He smiles excitedly.

- This little beauty is yours for $250.

You whistle.

- That is expensive. 

The man lets out a weak laugh.

- Yes, yes. But it's a pure breed. - He argues without sounding aggressive. You can imagine how hard it is to keep a stable running in a town like this. - This breed is strong and lives a long life. It is also tame and loyal.

- That's fine. - You interrupt with a smile. - You can deduct the value of my horse from the price.

As you leave the stable, riding your new mare, you stroke her fur as you ride toward the saloon. You haven't thought of a name for your mount yet, you try to repeat names of famous figures along the way to choose one. 

It doesn't take long to reach the place, and many curious glances land on you. 

You tie your horse to the palanquin in front of the place, and walk inside. 

It is crowded and noisy and everyone dresses very nicely there. You don't know when Wanda will finish the job, so you decide to play a bit of poker while you wait.

You walk over to the card table and no one seems to mind if you join the game. The dealer smiles at you when you pay your entrance fee.

Many rounds later, you have probably left the table with less money than you arrived with, although you have won a few rounds. 

You walk toward the bar, and as you sip your beer, a man leans on the counter beside you, a glass of booze in his hand.

- Greetings, stranger. - He says and you raise your eyebrow suspiciously, without looking at him. 

- Can I help you, friend? - you ask snidely, hoping he will leave you alone. The man straightens his posture, turning his body toward you. 

- Just a friendly chat. - He replies with irony, taking a sip of his drink while facing you. 

- Go have a conversation with someone else then. - You grumble as you turn to him, a mock expression on your face. But then he makes an angry expression, and puts his drinking glass down on the counter.

- Let's cut straight to business then. - He says. - You stole my money.

- I beg your pardon?

- The carriage you stole in Rhodes. - He hits back. - That job was mine. 

You let out a dry laugh. 

- What do you want me to say? I'm sorry you're not a good thief?

The man then let out a laugh, completely losing his aggressive posture.

- Damn, I'm messing with you. - He says. - Actually, I gave up on that carriage. And you should know why.

You are slightly surprised by the insinuation, but you relax your body, leaning your back and elbow on the counter, while keeping your voice low to prevent snoopers from hearing you.

- Who gave you the carriage tip? - You ask the man, and he smiles and rests his body on the counter beside you.

- It wasn't the same guy as you, you can be sure of that. - He answers in a teasing tone. You smile, waiting for him to continue. - My contact warned me about the carriage, but I declined the service. - He tells you, and bites his lips thoughtfully for a moment. - I didn't imagine that anyone else would accept.

You shrugged.

- There is always more than one person wanting to steal the same things. - You retort, making me laugh slightly. - But why all the secrecy? Just tell me what you want.

The man laughs again, finding your impatience amusing. He takes a sip of his drink, looking serious again.

- I found out the origin of the carriage. - He explains - But I don't have a gang. And I need company.

You laugh, frowning, and then turn to him.

- Just tell me what you mean.

- You see this object hanging below my holster? - he asks, and your gaze immediately drops downward. - It is a talisman from the people of Wakanda.

- The natives?

He nods in agreement, and you look away from the small embroidered circle strapped to his holster. 

- I think everybody knows them as the Panthers now. - He remarks with a light humor in his voice. 

- What does this have to do with the carriage?

The man laughs.

- I'm getting there. - He jokes before turning back to a serious expression. - The American government has gone to great lengths to wipe out the natives of the region. The Wapiti people have been practically isolated in the north of the country. - He comments with a slight irritation in his voice. - And the Wakanda, well, they barely survived with oil exploration. And then, when the war happened, they recovered. They're all over the country now. - He pauses to steal some of your beer, and you cast him an incredulous look, but say nothing. - But then, the government is civilizing this area now. And they don't want to share the land with anyone else. The wagon you stole was carrying the pay of a group of soldiers, camped north of here.

- I imagine they were not happy not to be paid. - You comment, and the man laughs lightly.

- Oh yes, that's for sure. - He says. - What bothers me is what they are doing in the north. I just found out that the army is assigning soldiers to destroy the indigenous reservations. - He states and you frown - They vandalize sacred areas and shrines, and steal the horses to prevent hunting, which consequently leads to starvation.

- This is horrible. - You say, and the man shrugs his shoulders in agreement. And then you fall silent for a moment, while you ponder what exactly he wanted. You bite your lips, before speaking again. - Look, I'm sorry about the whole situation with the Wapiti and the Wakanda people.  But I don't understand how all this is my problem.

The man let out a wry smile, but didn't look at you. Then he finished the beer.

- Interesting last name you have. - He remarked. - Interesting origin.

You frowned, finally understanding. 

- Don't you dare talk about my family. - You strike back in a threatening tone. It takes a moment before he speaks again.

- Your people need your help.

You let out a wry laugh.

- I don't have a people. - You hit back aggressively. 

- Your great-grandmother was Wakanda, and your grandfather was Wapiti, you will always be part of that people, even if you decide to walk around pretending you're not.

Clenching your fists and locking your jaw in anger, you turn to the counter again, ignoring the urge you have to punch the man. You concentrate on your breathing, to calm yourself, while you can't ignore the fact that he was right.

- I'll let you think about it. - said the man, tapping you lightly on the shoulder. - By the way, my name is Erik Killmonger. Look for me when you change your mind. - He says before dropping a few dollars on the counter and walking out. 

You sink your face into your hands for a second, letting out a dissatisfied grumble. It's been so long since you thought about your parents. 

You didn't remember your childhood so well. But the more you thought about it, the clearer the few memories became. You think you lived on a ranch, you remember horses and sheep. And then you have this memory of your father showing you how to make a bow. You remember dream catchers in your house, and you swallow dry. 

Feeling a hand on your shoulder, you think Erik has returned, and turn around with a serious expression. But it is Wanda who is beside you, she smiles, and you feel your body relax immediately.

- Hi - You greet her as you look at her. She looks beautiful, her hair hanging loose over her shoulders. 

- You seem tense. - She says leaning her elbow on the counter while looking at you.

- My past is haunting me. - You playfully shrug. Wanda frowns with confusion, and when you explain it to her, she looks quite surprised.

- You never told me about your parents. - She comments tenderly. You shake your shoulders uncomfortably.

- It's a delicate topic, I think. - You confess. - It makes me sad.

Wanda held your hand gently, stroking the top of it with her finger. You smile for the touch.

- I guess... I just didn't expect it. - You say. - I didn't expect that anything related to my family would come back to me.

- You want to help them, don't you? - Wanda deduces, looking at you fondly. You smile and nod in agreement.

- But that can wait. - you say after a moment. - I'd like to spend some time with you now.

Wanda seems slightly surprised by the change of subject, and a little shy at the invitation, but she smiles at you.

- Where would you like to go? - she asks, and you bite the inside of your cheek as you think.

- We could just walk around town. - You answer. - Watch the sunset, then go to the theater.

Wanda laughs slightly at the charming smile you flash her, and then she nods. 

You walk out of the saloon, Wanda's arm wrapped around yours. Your steps are slow, both of you wanting the walk to last as long as possible.

You chat softly about various subjects, mostly reminiscing about your childhood memories, like when you tried to tame Bucky's horse and he knocked you down like a bull, or when you and Wanda got a scolding from Potts when you arrived at the camp covered in mud. 

Wanda's laughter made your stomach turn with nervousness, and you couldn't remember exactly when you fell in love with her. Part of you thinks it's always been this way, ever since she arrived in the gang with a grumpy face and worn boots, and an accent she'd lost over the years, you fell for her. Hard, fast, and immediately.

As the afternoon falls, you head for the theater. You are a little embarrassed when the box-office clerk asks you if you were a fan of the actors, and you tell him that you didn't really know the play, and he gives you an incredulous look. But Wanda smiles at you, and you just buy your tickets quickly.

You sit in the back, and you think you have paid attention to two minutes of the entire play. Wanda was laughing about the show next to you, and you held your breath as you watched her. She was breathtaking.

You didn't even hide that you were staring, although you felt your cheeks heat up when she turned her face to you, but Wanda smiled and matched the intensity of your gaze. The theater was dark, but you could still see her green orbs in the low light. 

- It's not polite to stare. - She teases you by looking straight ahead again. You smile, and then lean toward her.

- I can't help it. - You whisper in her ear. - You're beautiful. - Wanda sighs, but doesn't look away from the stage. You step back, a shy smile on your face, and then you hold your breath when you feel her hand on your thigh.

- What are you doing? - You ask breathlessly as you feel her caress your thigh in a down-and-up motion. Wanda looks around, and then turns her face to you. 

- You will be quiet for me won't you? - She asks with tenderness and malice in her voice. You feel your heart race. Wanda begins to unbuckle your belt slowly, and you look around. You are in the last row, hidden by the darkness of the theater. At least two rows are empty beside you and in front of you, and the play has just begun with a music number, and you would not be heard. Yet you shivered in anticipation.

- Wanda, for heaven's sake. - You said, but she just kept unbuttoning your pants. And then she brought your faces together and kissed you hard. Your tongue met hers at the same moment she slipped her hand into your pants, and you let out a hoarse moan against her, feeling your body tremble.

Wanda stroked your pussy with one finger superficially, making you gasp against her mouth. She smiled against the kiss, pleased with the way your body responded to her. And then she parted your mouths to deposit slow, wet kisses against your chin and down your neck, as her finger caressed you. You closed your eyes tightly, overwhelmed by the sensations.

Then Wanda penetrated your pussy, and you had to bite her shoulder to keep from screaming. As she began to move in and out of you, you whimpered as your whole body shook. 

- Be quiet. - Wanda whispered in your ear tenderly, but it was hard to obey when she stimulated your clitoris with her thumb. 

- Wanda, I'm goin' to... - You started to say, but your voice faltered. Your eyes rolled back in their sockets as she hit a particular spot. You were doing your best to control the spasms in your body, not wanting to make so much noise.

- I know, darling. - Said Wanda as she brought your foreheads together, and then she whispered against your mouth - Come for me.

You moaned against her mouth, and she only had to push into you once or twice more before you fell apart in her fingers. As you tried to normalize your breathing, Wanda removed her fingers from you, and lifted them to her own mouth, tasting you. You sighed at the image, and moved in, kissing her hard.

But then she parted your mouths, smiling innocently as she zipped up your pants and buckled your belt. 

You were about to say something, but then the theater lights came on. The play was over. It took you a few seconds to get up, your wobbly legs not helping you keep your balance.

Wanda held your arm again as you left the theater, and you invited her to come back to the saloon, and rent a room, and Wanda bit her lips as she nodded in agreement.

However, as you passed in front of one of the many alleys leading to the saloon, you heard a noise. Wanda heard it too, and you exchanged a look as you turned your heads to get a better look. It was hard to see in the darkness of the street, but then someone was thrown forward, falling to the floor of the alley. You both let out a startled exclamation, taking a step back. But then you recognized that it was the same man from the bar.

- Fuck. - You grumbled as you released yourself from Wanda, rushing into the alley and hitting the assailant with a hard punch to the face.

You helped Erik sit up next, and grimaced at his bloodied face. He looked too injured to fight, and was leaning against the wall trying to breathe normally. And then the assailant was back, a silver knife in his left hand.

It was difficult to fight in an alley, but you dodged the man's attempts to stab you and then hit him in the face again. And when he bent over in pain, you disarmed him, throwing the knife away. The man let out an angry yell and jumped at you, knocking you to the ground by your waist. You let out a grunt of pain at the impact, and were about to raise your arms to protect your face from the punch he was preparing to throw, but then he was hit with a kick to the face.

He fell to the floor unconscious, and you looked up to see Wanda with a deadly glare in the attacker's direction. But then her expression softened, and she helped you up, a small smile on her lips.

- You're losing your touch, my love. - She teased you, causing you to roll your eyes humorously. You hurried to check on Erik, kneeling beside him.

- Hey, buddy. - You say, raising your hand toward his face, looking at his wounds. It's nothing serious, he must have been hit many times and it bewildered him. - You're going to have one hell of a scar.

He laughed breathlessly, and then coughed. And then you noticed that he had a hand on his chest. You frowned, as you lowered his hand to see what it was. An open wound was bleeding from his chest, you hurried to apply pressure.

- Oh, shit. - You exclaimed, trying to stop the bleeding. But you knew it was deep enough to have hit his lung.

- We're going to lose this war, girl. - He told you weakly.

- Who did this to you? Who are these people? - you asked.

Erik coughed up blood this time. 

- Please. - he asks, reaching into his jacket pocket with his arm. He hands you a piece of paper. - Help them escape.

And then he closes his eyes, and his head drops down. You blink several times, trying to understand that he is dead. Your last connection to your family has been broken. Wanda removes your trembling hands from his bloody chest, and raises her hands to your face, making you look at her.

- We can't stay here. - She says in a serious tone, but her eyes are gentle. - We have to go now.

You nod, still in shock. Wanda drags you into the alley, and you go around the block. You say nothing, and she doesn't push. 

As you get back on your horses, you hear the whistles of the city guards in the distance, signaling that they have found Erik. 

You get on your horses, and ride toward the camp.

You think you are dying. One minute you're riding in silence beside Wanda, and the next, your vision is blurred, and you feel a pressure in your chest. You think you can't breathe, so you dismount, crouching down as you put your hands on your knees, reaching for air. All you can see is Erik's bloody chest and then the graves of your parents. You think you start to cry, but you're not quite sure.

And then, Wanda's hands are on you, and she hugs you tight, asking you to breathe. She brings you back to reality with gentle words and soft touches. 

- I'm sorry. - You manage to mumble against her hair. Wanda shakes her head in denial, and says you don't have to apologize for anything.

She hugs you for several minutes, until you can breathe normally. When you look at her, she wipes the tears from your face.

Wanda attaches the reins of your horse to hers, and you ride Lily along with her. You hug her, laying your head on her back as she rides back to camp.

Despite the softness, and Wanda's low singing, you avoid falling asleep so that you don't fall off the horse.

When you arrive, you are feeling exhausted. And you tell Wanda that you need to talk to Steve and Bucky, but she insists that you should sleep, and drags you into your tent. And then she leaves, and doesn't come back until minutes later with a bucket of water. You are startled when you notice the dried blood on your own hands, but Wanda touches your face, calming you as she helps you clean yourself up.

When she is finished, she helps you off with your boots and jacket, only now you realize how sore you were from the fight. She gives you a kiss on the forehead as you lie down, but you don't let go of her hand.

- Wanda. Stay. - You whisper to her. You don't mind that the bed is tight.

Wanda removes her boots and you open your arms for her to lie on top of you. The pressure of her body on yours keeps you anchored, and you tighten your arms against her before falling asleep.

[refuge-au]

>Open the Doctor’s File

Doc: Receive an Invitation

The conference room was small and sparsely decorated, little more than a round table and a handful of chairs in an empty room. The walls were bare, the table empty, and the window that looked out into the hallways covered by blinds.

The window that looked out onto the street, to the east, may as well have been covered too. The only thing visible when you looked out was the greyish hue of smog.

Doc sat in the chair closest to the door on the east side of the table. His arms were crossed over his chest, and his feet were up on the table. He knew his attempt at nonchalance wasn’t fooling anybody, but it didn’t hurt to try.

Etho sat to his right, leaned over the table and absently spinning a rubix cube in his hands. Every so often he’d scramble it and then solve it quickly afterward, seeming slightly disappointed. His left eye was covered in a plain black eyepatch that wasn’t quite big enough to cover the extent of the scarring.

Bdubs sat on Etho’s other side, the drumming of his fingers on the table and the way his eyes flickered from one side of the room to the other every couple of seconds the only things betraying the amount of nervous energy contained inside him.

Beef sat in the last chair on their side of the table, staring at the covered interior window as if he could see through the blinds and into the hallways behind it. His face was expressionless, apparently lost in thought.

No one spoke.

It was the kind of silence they had sat in many times before- part comfort, of being around people who know you better than almost anyone else in the world, and part anxious anticipation. None of them knew exactly what was going to come next.

They had been contacted individually a week or two ago, letters that had no return address slipped under doors or through mail slots. What usually would have been some sort of threat or insult turned out to be a job interview opportunity.

Come to a certain building two weeks from now, the letters read. Tell the receptionist that you’re looking for refuge. Someone will be in to see you shortly.

The most paranoid of the group (Beef) had found out that it was sent by some sort of government official or organization before he contacted the rest of the group to see if they had received the same summons. After a brief discussion, a decision was reached. They would hear out whoever wanted to talk to them.

If things went down badly… as long as they were together they would be able to fight their way out.

Most of the invitation had been true. They found the correct address, and were taken to a room when they asked for refuge… but the person that they were waiting for had not come shortly. It felt like they had been waiting for an eternity- even though his internal clock told him it had only been about twenty minutes.

Ten more minutes, he decided, and then he would leave. If whoever the hell wanted to talk to them was going to be late, they should have told the receptionist to tell them or something. It was basic human decency- although admittedly that did seem to be in short supply these days.

The door handle turned with a click, and four pairs of eyes locked onto it immediately. There was a moment of nothing, and then the door swung open, letting a relatively tall brunette man into the room.

His hair was tied back in a neat ponytail, all brown except for a single streak of white from a large x-shaped scar that stretched across most of his face. It was an old scar, very faded, the chunks of white in his hair and his beard some of the only things left to prove that it was there.

He looked slightly winded as he smiled, shutting the door behind him. “Hello, gentlemen. Sorry about the wait. There was a bit of a… conflict. Downstairs, and I ended up having to sort it out.”

He walked over to the table pulling off his gloves and unwrapping his respirator from around his neck before sitting down across from Etho and folding his hands together. “So. You all actually came.”

“Did you expect us not to?” Beef asked, eyeing him warily, apparently not recognizing him.

“Of course not! A government official contacting you out of nowhere, asking you to come and meet them? The fact that you have enough faith in humanity to come here, despite everything, without knowing anything about why you’re being asked here… it’s amazing.” He grinned.

“Amazing is one word for it, sure.” Bdubs said, leaning forward in his chair. “But uh, who are you, and why exactly are we here?”

“If you’re going to try to kill us, we’ll give you a thirty second head start.” Doc added dryly. “But no more than that.”

The man chuckled. “We’re not trying to kill you, we’re trying to offer you a job.”

A job?

Before Doc could express his hesitation, the man continued, putting a hand to his chest:

“My name is Xisuma Void, Captain Void to most people, but you can call me X. I’m putting together a crew.”

“Like a boat crew?” Bdubs asked, brow furrowing slightly.

“A spaceship crew. I’ve been given a mission- go to uncharted territory, chart it, and start a colony on a planet outside the solar system.” He extended his hands in front of him, gesturing to the team. “I’d like you to come with me.”

For a moment, there was silence.

“…What’s the catch?” Etho asked slowly.

“Catch?” Xisuma asked.

“We’re not from here.” Etho said, and Beef chuckled. “There’s always a catch.”

Xisuma shook his head slowly. “I don’t think… well… how about I just tell you what the job would entail before we decide if there’s a catch or not?”

Doc looked across the table to the others. Bdubs nodded, Beef shrugged, and Etho set down the rubix cube for the first time since he had gotten into the room. X took that as permission to continue.

“Do you remember all those stories in the news about the government funneling money into a secret project?” X asked.

“And everybody was worried that it was gonna be another war.” Bdubs said. “We remember.”

“They were building a ship for this mission. It’s been in progress for years now, but they’ve ramped up construction in the past several months. The ship will be fully built in three months, and the mission will begin no sooner than six months from now.” Xisuma stood, either ignoring or not noticing the way that the rest of the group tensed when he moved, and began to pace up and down the length of the table. “The ship- the Refuge- will exit the solar system in about one and a half years, and then it’ll be four and a half to eight and a half years til we reach Haven.”

“Haven?” Doc interjected. “That’s the planet?”

X nodded.

“Bit on the nose, don’t you think?” Bdubs asked.

X shrugged, not pausing in his pacing. “I wasn’t the one that named it.”

“So what do you want us to do?” Beef asked. “None of us have ever been to space before. Sure, Etho may have been… built for it, but…”

“You don’t have to worry about the space stuff.” X said, stopping and leaning on the back of the chair he had been sitting in. “Just the landing part of the mission. The way that this is set up, there are two smaller groups within the crew as a whole- the ship crew and the colony crew. While the ship crew will transition into being a part of the colony crew once we land, the colony crew doesn’t have to be a part ship crew. It’s unnecessary, and most of the crew mates don’t have essential skills for the trip.”

“So what does the colony crew do during the flight?” Beef asked, his brow furrowed.

“Sleep.” X responded. “We have two cryogeneticists on the crew that will be maintaining and caring for frozen personnel and assets.”

“Which one would we be?” Doc asked.

X looked uncomfortable, as if he didn’t know whether the question was a joke or not. “Personnel… in total, if you decide to take me up on the offer, we’ll have nine people frozen out of a crew of thirty six. Most of the ship can be run mechanically, but we still need the ship crew to oversee everything.”

“And what would we be doing when we get planet-side? What’s our actual job going to be?” Bdubs asked.

“Building, scouting surrounding areas, neutralizing any potential threats, whatever needs to be done, really.” X sighed. “Unfortunately, since a mission like this has never been attempted before, I can’t tell you exactly what we’re going to need you to do. If you accept, I can give you the paperwork that runs through several potential scenarios, but… there’s a lot that we just don’t know.”

“I’m not going to ask you to sign on immediately, but I’d like your responses as soon as possible.” X concluded. “There’s a packet with the receptionist downstairs that has more information-“

“I’ll do it.” Bdubs said, cutting him off.

X blinked. “What?”

“I’ll do it.” He repeated, leaning back in his chair. “It sounds exciting, it’s a chance to travel somewhere without risking being carsick, it’s getting away from everything that’s going on here… and we’re probably not gonna get another chance at this for at least six years, right?”

X nodded.

“I can’t speak for the guys, obviously, but you’ve got one.”

“I’m in too.” Doc decided, taking his feet off the table and sitting up straight. “There’s not a whole hell of a lot for me to do here, not many people that want me here, and somebody’s gotta make sure you don’t get yourself killed.” He said, pointing a vaguel accusatory finger at Bdubs, who rolled his eyes. “I still want the packet, but I’m in.”

X grinned. “Wonderful! And… I suppose, do you want to make your decision now too?” He turned his attention to Beef and Etho.

“I’ll agree… but I reserve the right to change my mind if we start getting ready and things seem off.” Etho said, picking his rubix cube back up and spinning it on its corner. “I may have been made for space travel, but they kept me grounded for a reason.”

“I agree with Etho, minus the spaceman bit.” Beef said. “Also, can we have your phone number, or some way to contact you?”

Xisuma’s grin turned into a softer, warmer smile. “Everything that you’ll need is going to be in the packets. Welcome to the team, gentlemen.”

Computer: Input Command: Show Available Files:

> Open the Pilot’s File

> Open the Doctor’s File (New)

> Continue

[make-me-imagine]

Prompts: “Are you cold?” “No” “Liar” + ‘Wearing their jacket/hoodie’ 

Requested by: @skylett-skyler​

Pairing: Mycroft Holmes x Reader

Gender: Neutral       Triggers: None

Genre: Casual; Little Fluff        Words: 1,771

Notes: I’m sorry it’s not really that fluffy, and doesn’t really have any ‘romantic fluff’, but this is all I could really come up with right now. I hope you like it either way~

Looking over the case file for Sherlock’s most recent case, you read through the evidence with interest. Apparently the case was so confusing and mixed in with political ties that Sherlock not only asked you for help, but also asked his brother Mycroft, much to his own annoyance. But Sherlock does not like involving himself in the political scene, so he figured his brother would be willing. 

When Sherlock told you Mycroft would be coming around, you tried your best to hide the obvious nervousness that you felt. Sherlock saw it, obviously, but he said nothing. He had been scolded enough times by John to know when to not intervene. He was also slightly amused by it, as he did not understand how you could have feelings for his brother, though he knows you think the same. He also knew that Mycroft himself had feelings for you, which he also found amusing, but to him was more understandable. 

You were annoyed by your own feelings for the older Holmes brother. When you first met him you disliked him and his cocky and somewhat arrogant attitude. But over the last few months you couldn’t help the attraction that seemed to slowly sink in. You would catch yourself getting anxious around him, your eyes often landing on him. You scolded yourself, telling yourself that it would never work. You two were way to different, you bickered with each other a lot, seemingly forming a love hate relationship between you. 

Recently you had been avoiding contact with him, wanting to avoid the growing feelings you had for him. You had convinced yourself that he had no interest in you, though you knew that may not be 100% true. Often when you’d bicker, you thought that he was flirting with you, but you would push the thoughts away. 

As these thoughts were rolling around in your head, you almost missed the fact that Mycroft had entered the room, only becoming aware of his presence when Mrs. Hudson announced his arrival with “Sherlock, your brother is here!”

When Mycroft arrived, you forced yourself to stay focused on the files you were reading. Mycrofts gaze almost immediately landed on you, sitting with your legs crossed, look of concentration on your face as you read, what he assumed, was some case-files. 

“Y/n” he greeted, watching as your eyes lifted to meet his. 

You gave him a small smile, trying to fight the butterflies that had begun to flutter “Hello Mycroft” you greeted him simply before looking back down at the files. Mycroft could barely repress his frown at your apparent indifference to his presence. 

As Sherlock came back into the living room, he had to repress an eye roll as he noticed how intensely his brother was gazing at you “Mycroft” he greeted, before almost immediately getting into the details of the case.

Throughout the time he was explaining the case, he of course noticed the numerous times Mycrofts gaze landed on you, as well as the numerous times you struggled not to look over at him. Getting somewhat annoyed, and tired of not intervening, when Sherlock was done explaining the case he turned to you and Mycroft, he spoke to Myroft “Now I know that you know I don’t quite trust you to tell me all of the information you find out, so I would like for Y/n to go with you” he glanced at you, seeing you hide the surprise you felt at his suggested. 

You and Mycroft looked at each other, Mycroft nodded his head “I will ignore the offense that I feel at your distrust of me brother and agree to your terms” turning to you he spoke again “I have a meeting this evening, so if you are able, I would suggest doing this now”

Looking between him and Sherlock, you thought you saw a small smirk on Sherlocks face. You shrugged your shoulders lightly “I’ve got the time”

“Good” Mycroft rose “Then we should be off” you stood as well, grabbing your things, turning to Sherlock and John he said his farewells as you followed him, after waving a goodbye to the others. 

After exiting 221B you and Mycroft were taken to a nearby embassy, where Mycroft insisted he could get the required information. You then watched as he elegantly got some of the information he needed from multiple people, you broke in here and there, earning more pieces of information. It wasn’t really until this interaction with Mycroft that you realized just how much he and Sherlock were alike.

Finally leaving after what seemed like hours of politicians talking about various topics you had no interest in outside of the case. You had the information you needed. Leaving the embassy, you looked around for Mycrofts car.

Mycroft, upon seeing you looking around spoke up “I thought we’d walk”

You turned and looked at him “To where? Sherlocks flat is miles from here”

He hummed before adjusting his coat “After having to deal with those politicians for as long as we did I don’t quite feel like seeing my brother just yet” you shrugged slightly, somewhat understanding what he meant “So” he began “I thought we would walk up the street here and get some tea” walking past you he began down the road. Of course assuming you would follow, which you did, not sure what else to do.

Catching up to him you walked side by side in silence for a few moments before Mycroft glanced over at you “I was quite impressed with how you were able to get some of that information out of those people” he commented.

Looking over at him you shrugged “I may hate politics, but I’ve learned how to deal with politicians” Mycroft simply smiled as you continued walking. 

After stopping in front of a cafe, Mycroft held open the door for you as you entered. Getting yourself some tea, you sat inside, near the window. After discussing the case for a little, you asked Mycroft about what exactly it was that he did. “Sherlock insists that you ‘are the British government’ is he right?” 

Mycroft chuckled, eyeing you momentarily “Somewhat”

You smiled, shaking your head “You Holmes brothers sure don’t like talking about yourselves do you?” 

Mycroft thought to himself for a moment “I would tell you more in detail” he looked around slightly “somewhere less...public”

Glancing around the near empty cafe you almost laughed, but understood he must be cautious. You looked back at him “I’ll hold you to that” 

Mycroft smirked “So be it” 

You ended up basically interrogating Mycroft about his and Sherlocks upbringing, which he obliged you with, though he did remain somewhat vague about his childhood. Not long later both yours and Mycrofts phones went off. Sherlock had begun texting both of you asking where you were and why it was taking you so long. 

You chuckled as you checked the texts, Mycroft sighed in mild annoyance “Well I suppose I should take you back then, though, slowly I think”

“Just to annoy him further I suppose?” 

He smiled “Of course” 

After leaving the cafe, Mycroft gestured for you to turn right, and begin walking “My car will be at the park up the road, less traffic to get through”

You nodded as you began walking, realizing that the temperature dropped significantly since you entered the cafe. You also realized that you had not worn the proper clothes to stay warm.

Mycroft saw you adjust your thin jacket, as a cool autumn breeze clearly chilled you “Are you cold?” 

As an immediate extinct, thought your not sure why you said “No” 

Mycroft frowned slightly, but was also a little amused “Liar” he said as he began to take of his coat. 

You watched as he turned to offer it to you, raising your hand you smiled “No, that’s alright Mycroft, really I-”

He cut you off buy basically forcing it over your shoulders “I insist” he said with a smile “You are clearly cold”

Hesitating for a second you grabbed the edge of the coat so that it would not fall off “Thank you” you felt your ears burning a little as the interaction “Are you sure you aren’t cold?” 

He shook his head “My suit is thick enough to keep me warm” 

You nodded before a thought popped into your head, realizing you and Mycroft have been together for the last few hours, the afternoon having become evening “You’re not going to be late for your meeting are you?” 

He looked at his watch “I believe I will be right on time” 

As you approached the park, now much warmer in the autumn evening, you saw a familiar car pulling up to you and Mycroft. Opening the door for you he spoke “My driver will take you to Sherlocks, and if you wish he will take you home afterward” 

“What about you?” 

He motioned his head across the street as he spoke “I am having my meeting across the street, no need for a car” 

You looked across the street to see a fancy restaurant “Oh, I see”

Moving to take of his coat he stopped you “Forget it, I will collect it later. It will still be cold when you have to go back to your home” 

“Okay, thank you Mycroft. Though, part of me wont forgive you for leaving me to deal with Sherlock alone now. I suppose that was your plan”

Mycroft chuckled “No, I assure you it wasn’t, I was just enjoying our time at the cafe and lost track of time. If Sherlock berates you in any way, let me know and I will apologize accordingly. Perhaps with dinner” 

You almost missed the last part of his sentence, due to how casually he suggested it “Dinner?” 

“Yes. Besides, you do want to know exactly what it is I do correct?” 

“I thought you didn’t want to discuss it in a public place” 

“It will be a private dinner” he countered, determined to get you to agree.

And you, not really having a reason to refuse, nodded your head “Alright. But expect a scolding, you and I both know that Sherlock will definitely berate me”

Mycroft smiled “Of course” 

Smiling, you began to get into the car, Mycroft bent down to see you “Goodnight Y/n” 

You smiled lightly at him “Goodnight Mycroft” 

Closing the door, Mycroft watched as you drove off, his heart pounding from the interaction, and at his own boldness to finally ask you out to dinner. Part of him was surprised you agreed, but he was overall relieved, and very excited.  

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

Ehh, not sure how I feel about this one. I always have a hard time writing for Mycroft I think. 

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[kybervisions]

slight obsessions [bucky]

summary: after months of obsessing over a senator, bucky is given the opportunity to save her. he then visits her in the hospital  

author’s note: warning, warning, this will feature aspects of the u.s government,,, \\ lil bit of fluff and mentions of torture ,, just a kidnapped senator and bucky pining  ,, requests are open :) 

The security footage of your kidnapping at the fundraiser was leaked to the media. Millions watched as a prominent U.S senator was ambushed and drugged before being dragged into an unmarked vehicle. Bucky’s heart ached. “We’ll find her,” Sam, well-aware of Bucky’s infatuation with you, promised his friend.  

Bucky was unprepared to find you in the state that you were, bloody and bruised. There was a cut above your eyebrow and blood dripped down your face. Your skin was riddled with red and purple. The metal cuffs around your wrists and ankles dug into your skin and caused you to bleed. There was track marks on your arms and your knee didn’t look too good either. 

You looked nearly unrecognizable — almost nothing like the senator that so adamantly advocated for his pardon. 

“Captain?” You mutterly weakly, barely recognizing the two figures near the doorway. The drugs they pumped into you fucked with your vision and made you feel absolutely sick. You could barely keep your eyes open. Everything hurt and you shivering from the lack of warmth. 

Sam quickly ran past Bucky and his fingers searched for a pulse on your neck. Weak, but it was something. Once up close, Sam could see the multitude of track marks on your skin and his fingers gently touched them, causing you to cry, something that completely shocked you. Zemo had stopped giving you water a few days ago. 

“We’re going to get you out of here, senator,” Sam pulled out a Widow’s Bite, which he had secretly stolen from Natasha, and used the electricity within the bite to override the power source of the cuffs.  

When the cuffs opens, you were released from the vertical interrogation chair. Before you fell on the concrete floor, Bucky quickly reached out to catch you. 

“Fuck!” You shouted and startled Bucky. You bit your lip in an attempt to silence your pain. After weeks of absolute hell, you were sensitive to touch. Tears filled your eyes and you weren’t strong enough to hold them back. “It hurts,” You whimpered. You felt sick. Cold and weak and wanting to puke but having nothing in your stomach to regurgitate.

A protectiveness he had not felt since before the war consumed Bucky. Seeing you so weak and in pain filled him with both anger and the need to make you feel better. Your big, soft, and tear-filled eyes awakened his primal instinct to defend and protect. 

He acknowledged there was still something wrong with him, because even in the state that you were in, Bucky wanted nothing more than to press his lips against yours and hold you against him. 

For a short second, while looking down into your eyes, the world was quiet. 

“C’mon, man,” Sam urged them. “I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to be in here when the timer goes off,” 

“Alright, alright,” Bucky agreed. “Um, can you run?” He looked down at you again. You were smaller in person. The television must make everyone look like titans. On the screen, you had such a larger than life presence. Whether it was asking questions during committee hearings or speaking out against a bill, you were imposing. 

“She can barely stand,” Sam answered before you. With all the drugs in your system, you were nearly unresponsive. “Pick her up and let's go!” 

Once they reached the C.I.A medical facility, Sharon told a room full of reporters that the senator had been found and was being examined by professionals. She did not give too much information, which was typical for intelligence agencies. 

By “being examined by professionals”, Sharon meant you were undergoing surgery because whatever was injected into your body caused you to go under septic shock. She omitted that part, not wanting to give the public further cause to worry.  

After the surgery, only family was allowed to enter your hospital room. Some of your staff was able to bypass that rule. You were still recovering, but your top aide, Winnie, had begun planning your first public appearance. 

“You’re a certified badass now,” Winnie informed you, and it made you chuckle. Winnie had been by your side since you were a congressional freshman and you loved them to death. “The corpses will have to show you actual respect now,” They smiled, referring to your coworkers as corpses gives them a bit of joy. 

“I’m sure Stern will find a reason to call me a traitor to the country,” You replied. Your strong opposition of the intelligence agencies earned you a lot of enemies. 

“Yeah, well, he’ll — ”

The door had opened and there stood a “Hi, sorry. I, uh, I didn’t mean to interrupt,” Bucky stopped at the doorway. He was holding a small bouquet of your favorite flowers and scratched the back of his head, avoiding eye contact. 

“Sergeant Barnes,” You smiled. Bucky looked to you, and he’d never seen or heard anything as beautiful. He had heard you say his name a thousand time over, but hearing it in person was just swell.  

“Bucky’s jus’ fine, senator,” Bucky returned a toothy grin. You swear you had died and gone to heaven. He was even more beautiful in person. 

“Bucky,” There was a shine in your eyes when you said his name. His name sounded so pretty coming from your mouth.  

“O-kay,” Winnie chuckled and their eyes bounced between yourself and the soldier, who was just a few feet away from them. “I’ll be back tomorrow to hash out the details,” They turned to look at you and gave you a small peck on your head. “Be careful,” It was a warning. 

Bucky stepped into the room, allowing Winnie to easily slip out. 

Now that the blood and dirt had been washed out, Bucky could truly admire how striking you were. You were glowing. There were still bruises and healing wounds but they didn’t diminish your beauty. 

He set the flowers on the visitor’s chair. 

“I wanted to properly thank you and Mr. Wilson for saving my life,” You told him. He took a few more steps towards you. “W-Winnie has a press conference planned once I’m discharged, and there might be a Medal of Freedom in your future, after the Congressional Gold Medal, of course,” 

“What?” 

“Yeah,” You smiled. “It took a little bit of convincing but the bastard caved eventually,” 

Of course you had recommended him, and Sam, for such prestigious awards. It was further proof that he had been vindicated from the dark part of his history. You helped profoundly in his path to finally accepting himself, and for that, he would always love you. 

When the nightmares returned, Bucky would rewatch your old speeches for the campaign to pardon him. He felt pathetic — having to listen to a woman he had never met before passionately advocate for his freedom in order to feel better. You saw him as human, worthy of forgiveness. 

“I know they’re practically worthless in the age of superheroes, but I thought I would be nice,” 

It would be nice. “Thank you,” His smile slowly faded as the conversation took a serious turn. “For everything, the campaign and the pardon and now these medals,” A breathy chuckle escaped. “I...you never attended the ceremony,” He commented on your absence during his pardon. It had plagued his mind for countless nights. 

“I wasn’t invited,” You chuckled at the irony of it — having spent months working for his freedom only to not be present to watch it happen. “A picture leaked of me at a protest in college and they thought it would be too controversial for me to attend,” You shrugged it off. 

Ensuring Bucky’s freedom was all that mattered. Your acknowledgement was not important to you in the greater scope of things. 

“I’ll make sure you get invited this time,” Maybe you could give a speech before he’s awarded the medal. He could finally be present to hear you praise him. 

Bucky’s eyes lingered on your lips. Your nervousness returned. There was a distinct look in his eyes that terrified and excited you all the same. 

“Senator, time for your medication,” A nurse entered the room and pushed a cart with her. There was an IV set, some pills, and a cup of water on the cart and all that medicine made Bucky feel anxious. 

He was well aware of the dangers of so much medicine and he was scared. He couldn’t afford to lose you now. Not when he finally has you within his grasp. 

“The pills help with the pain and the IV gives me nutrients,” You noted the panicked look on Bucky’s face when he saw the cart. “Or so they claim,” You looked at the nurse, who was not entertained by your accusatory comment. 

“I should head out,” Bucky nodded. “And allow your drugs to be administered in peace,” You laughed, and he was quite proud of that. 

Feeling bolder, Bucky took a few final steps toward you. You offered your hand and he lightly held your wrist, stilled bruised, and bowed down to kiss your hand. It was a small and sweet gesture, but it left you an absolute mess. You held your breath and felt your heart in your throat. 

Bucky admired you once more before leaving the room. He nearly memorized how you radiated in spite of the harsh cold white light that illuminated the hospital. In that moment, he was certain you’d be his.