#and then that instant switch the second the bullet comes through the window

[s0fter-sin]

i need a fic of soap bringing ghost home to his family for the holidays. his family’s always disapproved of everything; being queer, being in the military, being with ghost and it’s all over not a great time but they’re trying to pretend for the sake of the holiday. they get into it after dinner one night though and for once soap isn’t backing down, not when it’s ghost they’re attacking, when the power suddenly goes out. soap moves just in time for a shot to come through the window and he orders his family to get down

graves and what’s left of shadow company followed them to glasgow; it’s the first time they’ve been away from the 141 and they think it’ll be their best chance to take them out. johnny and simon are left behind as they become soap and ghost and soap’s childhood home becomes a battleground, his hysterical family who still think he can’t be that good of a soldier now civilians that he has to protect and get out in one piece

[ryndicate]

Hypothermic ⨳ Todoroki Touya

“Still thinkin’ about running?”

warnings: fem body/pronouns, zombie apoc au (ofc), assault, enemies to not quite enemies, gun mentions, choking, quirkless au (no scars), blood mentions, dry humping, make out, starts out dubcon as in he doesnt ask first but she doesnt tell him to stop, and a semi ungodly pov switch but let’s run with it

event: @medusashima’s Rise of the Dead collab! Click the link for similiar lovely works!

notes: thank you for being so accommodating of me Dusa!! this came right from my soul. Love how its somehow a zombie au fic with no direct contact with zombies but like.... it works. and im over the moon about it (himmm)

By expanding, you are consenting to viewing adult/dark content, and all warnings listed above. 18+ Minors DNI

Blog Rules/DNI

The first thing Touya notices, besides the glaringly obvious there’s an intruder—is that somehow, you’re both pretty and don’t look like much. Pretty in a way that wiggles old thoughts into his brain, old from long gone time where’d hesitate to hurt a little thing like you. But there’s a more prominent, high prevailing relief that he’s confident he can, because he has to. Because of that stupid little ramen cup that you’re helping yourself to right now. Because there’s no way you’d have that right now now unless—unless…

The undead corpses on his front lawn had been his first clue to something being wrong. Shoto doesn’t leave the zombie fuckers to rot if he can help it, an annoyance Touya’s barked at plenty of times as a waste of time and energy, only for his words to be met with quiet disapproval. So to find four of the disgusting things still pouring putrid black and stenching up the frost on his front porch…well, it gave Touya reason to be cautious. Swallowing a burst of nostalgia, he quietly opens the kitchen window—the back door squeaks loud enough to wake the dead—and climbs through with perfect silence, a skill earned in a long forgotten world that had been nothing but a blessing in the world it had turned into. The slow movements it requires give his swirling panicking mind a moment to gauge all the what if's, but when he discovers that the person sitting in his house is not his little brother it's impossible not to come to a single grim conclusion. 

That’s how he was lucky enough to get the drop on you, sitting in front of the makeshift fireplace in his beaten up living room, slurping up that ramen cup like it’s the only thing you’ve eaten in days—and given how his last run went, it’s pretty fucking likely that's how it is. Touya had already been in a pretty foul mood on his return to the safehouse, leaving to find the one thing they’re always running out of. And for the first time, he had nothing to fucking show for it. Clouds on the horizon sent him trekking home empty-handed. Scavengers fearing the approaching cold probably cleared everything out before he could get a look in. Everything they had left to eat, which wasn't much, he’d left with Shoto—who'd promised him that stupid instant ramen on his return. Said he'd save it for last. And damn it all if he couldn’t trust everything that came from his brother’s mouth, even in a world like this. 

The seconds are dragging past in Touya's mind but he knows in real time you'll notice him any moment now. By luck or skill, you've survived this long, and that counts for something. He can't give you the benefit of the doubt. He’s got a gun, secured in the waist of his jeans, but it’s been out of bullets for ages now. It’s mainly been a deterrent for strangers, kept in vain hope that he finds more ammo one day. He’d use it now, if he wanted to scare you.

But he doesn’t. Touya’s past that now. His knife comes off his belt just as silently as he came through the window. Stepping quickly on the balls of his feet, Touya crosses the room towards you, and you react a mere breath before the blade finds a new home in your neck.

Your body twists, and his reach slashes too wide. Before he can redirect the arc you’ve got your hands braced on his arm, forcing it straight with a strength he couldn’t have expected from you. Touya snarls at the combination of anger and fear on your face. You have no right. 

“The fuck’re you doing?” you growl at him through grit teeth. There’s evident strain in your voice so Touya doubles down and your wince sends a blistering satisfaction tearing through his body. When your grip weakens, he lets the blade fall and tackles you to the carpet. 

You let out a muffled yell as your back hits the ground hard, and Touya is quick to plant himself over your center mass, hands bearing down on your throat. You buck and thrash, trying to dislodge his weight, movements limited as you try to block him from cutting off your air. Touya spits a curse down at you as your nails shred at his wrists and the back of his hands. It’s incredibly difficult to keep hold of you. You’re like a fucking animal, choking and wheezing and hissing and fucking growling at him as you fight him off. With ridiculous effort, you manage to shove one of his hands off and get leverage with your feet on the ground, using his own weight to send him in an ungainly tumble to the floor.

It’s startling how quickly you react after that, gasping for air and lunging for him, putting a fist in his gut. The force of it shoves air and spittle from his lungs and has him sucking in air desperately. He rolls away from you as you pounce at him again, your shoulder checking his chin and giving him the taste of blood in his mouth before he gets a solid shove at your chest, resulting in a moan of pain. There’s a brief pause as he staggers to his feet and he freezes as his eyes lock with the gun you now have pointed at him.

You seem to have frozen as well, joints locked and chest heaving.

After a long moment Touya scoffs. “What? You just gonna point the thing at m—”

The gun clicks; time shifts; Touya jerks. 

There’s no gunshot, and your eyes fly wide in obvious fear. Time slows down just enough for him to realize that he recognizes that gun, patting his waistband. His eyes narrow, and you react, whipping the gun right at him.

Touya dodges and you turn and sprint from the living room. He lunges after you, skidding nimbly into the hall as you make a run for it. He grabs at the back your jacket, howling a curse as you jerk out of his grip, the material making an audible ripping sound and snagging at one of his nails instead, forcing him to falter. Blood wells up out of the cuticle and drips down his hand; Touya grips it tightly, hissing through his teeth and tearing after you again, catching up with you right as you start slamming a door on him. He gets his weight against the door and there’s a mad struggle as you both become opposing forces, but there’s a moment where he loses traction, the blood from his finger making his hand slide.

The door slams shut and Touya slams his fist against the wood as fury overtakes him.

“Where’s my brother, you fucking bitch!” 

Fucker was carrying an empty gun!

You wildly look around the small space that you despairingly realize is a bathroom. The man is still pounding on the door, shouting, and shaking the handle. You have no idea what he’s talking about and you need a fix before he stops being pissed enough to figure out that a few solid kicks is all it would take to get through the flimsy wood. You rip down the grimy plastic shower curtain and twist it tightly around the handle, looping it through the towel bar above the sink, hosting a pair of decrepit floral washcloths that look like they haven’t been used since patient zero. You continue weaving the figure eight until you’re forced to tie it off as you run out of length. It’s not much, but it’ll buy you an extra minute or two if you’re lucky. 

The handle creaks with one last aggravated twist. There’s a short silence that follows as you stare at the door, heart beating out of your chest. Then his voice filters through the door, a throaty rasp full of a rage that makes you quake with adrenaline and fear.

“Ain’t nowhere for you to go, lady. Get the fuck out here and maybe I won’t kill ‘ya.”

This not what you’d bargained for. “Like I’m gonna trust the guy who tried to stab me without so much as a hello.”

He chuckles, a soft sound that you’d find pretty if it weren’t for the way your skin breaks out in goosebumps that have nothing to do with the cold. “You want a hello? Come get one.”

Ignoring him—and the way your body tremors—you turn and start trying to peel away the board covering what must be a small window. If you’re lucky enough to get it off, maybe you can drop out through the window. 

But after a solid half hour of tugging, scraping and peeling, and nothing more to show for it than torn and bloody fingernails, you admit defeat. Wincing, you carefully wipe away the blood on your jeans and listen to see if he’s still outside the door. It’s hard to tell anything over your thumping pulse in your own ears, but it sounds quiet. 

It’s better not to risk it. You settle against the back of the tub and sit; if you wait long enough, he’ll pass out and you can slip out quietly. Moving quietly and disappearing is the only thing that’s kept you alive this far, especially after the last group you left. The last thing you want to do is be out at night, between the cold and poor visibility—that’s just asking to get killed. But no part of you can deny that facing that deranged stranger outside this door would be doing more than just asking. 

Time passes slowly, painfully. Ever since the turn, dozing off idly became a thing of the past, something dangerous. You’re stuck being alert and aware of every little creak, every little sigh this house can produce. The wind tears around outside and your fingertips have become numb. It’s gotten much colder tonight that it has in the past few days, and you dig your arms from your sleeves into the body of your clothing in an attempt to keep warm.

A light tapping puts you on edge before you realize you’re shaking so hard that the buttons on your jacket are clacking against the floor. You clench your jaw. You have to try now; if you wait any longer it’ll be too cold to make it down the street, let alone how far you’ll need to get away from this place to feel comfortable ever again. Your joints protest as you stand as silently as you can, after sitting for so long. It’s much more painstaking to get the shower curtain from the door; it’s like trying to tiptoe with a windbreaker, but eventually you manage and crack the door open. 

The house is dark, but even after a few moments no one shoves the door open, so pull it wider and peek out. There’s no sign of him. You step quietly out and feel your way down the wall, back towards the living room. There’s no chance you’ll get your pack back, not much in it besides clothes and water anyways, but you’ll have to make do. You inch into the kitchen where you remember seeing a backdoor, and gently turn the lock before pulling the door open. The hinges squeak so painfully loud that you suck in a breath, heart thudding in panic, but that’s not what has you frozen, shivering in the doorway.

What you heard from the bathroom floor wasn’t just wind, but a full blown snowstorm. It’s too early for snow, at least you’d thought, but here it is swirling so thick that you can’t see more than a couple of feet into the yard, and there’s already about a foot of snow. The moon highlights your breath getting swept away in the wind.

“Still thinkin’ about running?”

You shut the door and warily face him, not deigning to answer. The chances of making it more than a couple of blocks without freezing to death are slim. You can’t see much but his silhouette and a mess of pale hair, so it’s hard to make out what he’s thinking. All you know is that he hasn’t wrapped his hands around your neck yet.

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Don’t go pointing a gun at me again, and I won’t kill you tonight.”

“Try not to stab me then.”

You think he’s smiling. “No promises.” 

Another shudder wracks through you and you try to tighten your jacket around your body. There’s a tear somewhere near the underarm seam—another reason why running is a terrible option.

“C’mon. It won’t last the night, but I’ve got a small fire going.” He turns his back on you, and you have no choice but to follow him. “Name’s Touya, by the way.”

The “fire” Touya’s got up is nothing but a few table legs crumbling into ember, but you have to admit it’s much warmer in here than it was in the bathroom. The soft light gives you your best look at him yet, and you notice he’s far more handsome than he should be. Hair a bright white, his skin is fair beneath the light grime, and he has piercing green, maybe blue eyes—it’s hard to tell in the flickering orange glow. 

He glances at your raised eyebrow and scoffs. “Look, it’s all I had left. Shoto was supposed to be gathering wood while I was gone.”

You sit slowly a small distance away from him, as close to the fire as you can get. He tosses you a ratty blanket that had been hanging off the back of the couch. “Is Shoto your brother?”

He looks at you and scowls. “Yeah he is, and the only reason I haven’t come after you again is because I have no leads if you’re dead. I need you, if I’m gonna find out what happened to him.”

“Is that why you attacked me?” you ask him quietly. He’s throwing a couple of torn book covers into the embers, light flickering brighter as they catch and blaze. “You think I—”

“An eye for an eye,” Touya chuckles, his expression hardening into something devoid, something frightening. 

“I didn’t kill your brother.” You tell him softly, wondering how you’re supposed to convince him when he’s already convinced himself. You have no idea who he is. He simply stares at you.

“Right.”

“Look when I got here, there were a bunch of zoms in the yard. I barely got past them, my knife broke in one of their heads. I figured the place was empty and needed somewhere to hole up. I never saw your brother, I swear.” Touya’s expression is still hard, but his eyes have begun to flicker with doubt. “Bet you went through my bag already. You know I don’t have any weapons. I’ve got no reason to lie.”

“Other than to save your own neck.”

“Isn’t that what we’re all trying to do?” You glare at him. “Look, if he was here, I would’ve asked him to let me in. I’ve never… I’ve never killed someone like that before.”

“Like what?” He looks at you now, eyebrows slackening at the tremble in your voice. “You were all too willing to pull the trigger on me.”

“Self-defense is different.” You look away, curling your legs to your chest. “I’ve never…murdered someone. I’ve seen it happen before, but I can’t. That’s why I’m so good at running.”

Touya stills, seemingly taking in your words, sifting through them like one would examine sand through a looking a glass. Finally, he sighs.  

“He’s not dead.” You glance at him; that didn’t really seem like he was talking to you, so you let it rest in the air like that. His eyes shine in the dying fire before they flicker and pin themselves to you.

“So that’s why’re you alone, then? Couldn’t kill someone?”

Your lips twist into a frown, and you look away from him, resting your chin on your knees. Your mind is a swirl of blazing violet eyes, crimson full of rage, viridian vexed of indecision. “My last group was falling apart. Left before things got ugly, been on my own since.”

“How long ago was that?” Touya asks quietly.

You peek at him warily. “Long enough.”

He nods at you at that, grunting as he lays down and gets comfortable. You take that as his signal that conversation is over and follow suit, inching closer to the tiny flames that you vainly pray will last the night.

The night passes but sleep does not come for you, held at bay by memories that you wish would fade as quickly as the fire seems to, a deep cold settling over you as the embers turn to smoke. You pull the blanket tighter around you, now scared to sleep in case you don’t wake up.

“Well fuck,” Touya sighs, sitting up and leaning on his palms. You can hear his teeth chattering. With the fire gone you can’t see his face, there’s no lighting coming through the covered windows either. “Daylight’s still a few hours off. That sucks, ain’t nothing for it.”

“What?”

He rolls into your space and you try to scramble away from him, only for him to yank you to his chest and curl and arm around your back.

“You’re fucking insane.”

“No, I’m fucking freezing, and not interested in dying. You interested in dying? Or I don’t know, losing a few fingers and toes?”

You glare into his chest, clenching your jaw to keep your teeth from echoing his own chattering.

“That’s what I thought.”

After your racing heart settles, you hate to admit that it’s the only way. Wrapped up in his arms, tugged tight to his chest like this…it’s still cold, but an endurable kind of cold, the kind that has you worming your way closer to him to make it less uncomfortable. 

“Don’t,” you warn him as you feel his cheek stretch into a grin against your temple.

“Alright, alright. Fine. Could make this nicer, you know. Just sayin’.”

Suspicion blooms in your chest at his cheeky attempt at charm. “What are you talking about?”

A growl tears up your throat as he rolls you onto your back, ready to shove him off but you tense in shock as he leans down and closes his lips on the spot right beneath your ear. You exhale sharply on instinct. You haven’t been touched like this since—you slam your mind closed on those thoughts and try to think through his tongue tracing over your pulse point.

“Wh– what are you doing?”

“‘M gonna make you warm,” he whispers, nosing up and nipping lightly at the shell of your ear.

“Holy fuck, you are crazy. I’m not sleeping with you,” you hiss sharply, trying to wiggle away from him.

Touya tosses his head back in a wry laugh. “Sweetheart, if you think I’m dropping my pants in a blizzard, you’re crazier than me.”

“Then, then wh—”

“Shut up and stop thinking for a minute, won’tcha?” Touya grumbles and lowers himself back towards you, capturing your lips and working your mouth open with a little rumble of approval when you relax back to the floor. One hand comes up to hold your cheek, fingers cradled around the back of your head and the way he groans into your mouth sends a heatwave of embarrassment and arousal crackling across your body.

He paws at your covered chest, something warm and hard digging into your thigh as he grinds against you, and you resist the insane urge to wrap your legs around his waist.

Like he’s reading your mind, long fingers dig into one of your thighs and hike it up, and you gasp into his mouth as he shifts and suddenly his clothed dick is pressed hard against your core.

“Oh, you ain’t so hard are you?” Touya chuckles as you bite his lower lip in retaliation. You can almost imagine his eyes flashing at you as he begins to grind against you in slow, controlled motions. Your clit throbs underneath the rub of denim, and you can feel yourself slowly soaking through the material of your panties. “Still fiesty though. ‘S nice.”

“Fuck you.”

Touya groans, fingers digging into your hips as if trying to pull you up into him. “Don’t make me think about that, darlin’”

“Not your darling.”

“Yeah, yeah. Keep reminding me darlin’.”

He moans low and sweet into into your neck, suckling softly in one spot and continually moving to the next. It’s maddening and you keep shifting and rocking your body into to his, feeling pleasure unfurl in you so hot and deep, clit pulsing and sensitive, sparking until you’re sure it’s going to take you apart.

Touya stiffens, hips jumping before he grits his teeth and collapses gently over your chest, fists curled tight on either side of your head. The swirling ball of pleasure that had been moments from reach boils and begins to fade, leaving you gasping in frustration.

“Seriously, you’re stopping now?” you whine, squirming when he holds you in place. 

“‘M not interest in finding out how fast my pants would freeze to my dick with spunk all twisted up in there,” he snarls under his breath, biting back the urge to keep rutting against your body. “Believe me, sweetheart. Blueballing myself is not the end goal here. Fuck. You’re warm now, yeah?”

You’re struggling to get your heavy breaths under control, not giving him the satisfaction of a response. You’re warm all over, but you don’t know how long that’s gonna last. 

Touya grabs the ends of the blankets and makes sure they’re tucked around you both, shifting so that he’s no longer on top of you, but on his side next to you. “Then fucking sleep, okay? I know you haven’t yet. We’ll figure it out later. Deal?”

You snort. By figure it out, you wonder if he’s talking about the thing still twitching against your hip, or the whole mess of a situation. But either way, you’re heeding him. As the rush slowly drifts from your system, exhaustion takes over and you find yourself dead asleep, tucked under his arm. 

[omg-imagine]

All We Are

Pairing: Johnny Silverhand x female!V

Summary: V is jealous after Johnny’s date with Rogue, which leads to an honest discussion about where they both stand.

Words: 1.7k

Warning: spoilers for Blistering Love side job, a little angst

A/N: Requested by an anon. This may be a bit different than what you were expecting, but I was in the feels™. Hope you still enjoy :)

Also, can we please talk about how adorable he looks in the gif?? 

The long drive back to the apartment was silent; the utter stillness in the car weighs heavily on V’s mind. Hands gripping tight on the steering wheel, she tries to ignore this unsettling ache she has, not allowing even an ounce of thought to pass. Though she chalks it off as a side effect of the pseudoendotrizine, this strange, hollow feeling of hers continues to stir deep inside, burning, burning and burning.

And so, she switches on the radio and focuses ahead on the stretch of road winding down the North Oak hills, the approaching lights of Night City glowing brighter against the inky skies. A fresh breeze flows into the open windows, dulling the tension for a moment.

A moment of tranquility that ends far too soon, yet it was a moment V’s at least grateful to have.

“You’re awfully quiet,” Johnny points out, the gruff baritone of his voice piercing the air. “An enny for your thoughts?”

Kicking his feet up on the dashboard, his aviators glint in the silver moonlight, making him appear impossibly more obnoxious than he usually is. He acts as if he’s not aware of the recent thoughts plaguing V’s head, but perhaps that truly was the case. If it were, then she would be surprised— Johnny often invades her mind, poking and prodding at things he shouldn’t be. For a while, she assumes he knows.

“Just tired,” V replies monotonously. Her answer was far from a lie; she really was tired. Exhausted, even. All she wants is to collapse into bed, pass out, and hope that for a few short hours, she can forget about today, about everything.

“Huh,” he breathes out, and V spares him not a single glance. “Pretty sure somethin’ was up. You’ve been actin’ weird since we left the drive-in.”

A chuckle rumbles through her chest. V still finds it unusual for Johnny to act so… concerned. Almost caring, if she had to be honest. She’s noticed a change in him recently, which became apparent after their conversation in the oil fields. He’s a lot softer now, sometimes sweet, both in his own unique way, of course. As if his rough edges were slightly smoothed out with sandpaper, enough that they no longer cut and make her bleed.

V would often catch him staring when he thinks she’s not looking. She also doesn’t fail to miss the small smile that creeps across his face as she talks. And in those passing seconds that lasts an eternity when the relic malfunctions, Johnny was there to offer her comfort. He’d kneel down to the ground while she coils in agony, whispering promises that this will all be over soon. That one way or another, they would get rid of that goddamn chip slotted in V’s head and ultimately save her life.

Life. Life has a funny way of unraveling itself. Fuck, this all seems like a cruel joke the universe is playing on V. Fate is rarely kind to her, a sad fact she’s accepted over the years. Never would she have imagined that after experiencing the pain of heartbreak and loss, she’d find herself falling for someone at the worst possible time.

And that someone is the imprisoned digital ghost of a rockerboy-turned-terrorist studying her from the passenger seat.

But V’s adamant in denying it. Her life was too fucking complicated for this right now.

“Are you capable of shutting the fuck up for two seconds?” V bitterly snaps, the hands on the wheel clenching stiffly as her jaw. “You got what you wanted tonight. Finally got your dick wet after fifty years, so leave me the hell alone, would’ya?!”

She doesn’t mean to act on her muted anger, but it manages to get the best of her. V knows why, and because of it, she crumbles. She crumbles like the walls she’s built around herself. Like the facade she’s been hiding behind for the past couple of months. Because underneath the dirt and grime, V was just a poor, tragic soul, more worried about losing the man she couldn’t have than her awaiting death.

“Really think that’s what happened?” Johnny asks, pushing his shades up to his head as he shifts to sit up straight in his seat.

V grits her teeth, eyes remaining locked on the road. She had woken up an hour or two after Johnny took over, finding her lips still warm, still swollen. Her hair was tousled, and she had been stripped off of most of her clothes; the scent of Rogue’s perfume lingering on her skin. She didn’t need him to recount; it was all clear to her what had transpired. It was what she agreed on to make him happy, a date with the Afterlife fixer and whatever it could lead up to.

In the end, V regretted it, not because Johnny used her body to sleep with someone. But because even after the rollercoaster ride, the dog tags, the private concerts, and the heart-to-heart they had at his gravesite, she still wasn’t his. He was too hung up over Rogue, and she couldn’t blame him. Having shared a lengthy history, there was no doubt Johnny wouldn’t snatch up the opportunity to win her back.

But then where does that leave V?

“The fuck is wrong, V? Don’t make me figure it out by myself.”

Biting the edge of her lip, she ignores Johnny’s latest question and contemplates swallowing an omega blocker. She doesn’t even care that he’s threatening to search for the truth without her permission. Choosing not to do so, he keeps pressing on regardless, and V was getting pissed off. When he doesn’t stop, she loses her temper and slams on the brakes, the Porsche coming to a screeching halt on a dead street.

Huffing, V pulls over to the side, shutting the car’s engine as Johnny is left bewildered by her actions. Peace and quiet. She yearns for peace and quiet, and the pills would do the trick in an instant. Her hand reaches for the bottle in her jacket pocket, the pounding of her heart echoing in her ears. Popping the cap open, she turns her head to the side, unable to help herself. She sees the tenderness etched in his features, a wordless plea shining in his dark eyes.

“V… Tell me.”

V’s gaze slowly falters, her consciousness at war with itself. The storm of anger in her calms, yet she needs to know what her next move is. She’s always been terrible at this sort of thing, dealing with her feelings and shit. Growing up in the streets of Heywood, she’s learned how to shut people out and keep them out. Biggest rule she had imposed on herself was to never, ever fall for a choom, but this time was different. Despite him being a mere figment of her imagination, she feels safe around Johnny, appreciated and content. The two understand each other on a level nobody else has done. They’ve been through literal hell and would only sink further into it to find a way to survive.

A chrome palm comes to rest on V’s cheek, the sensation oddly warm, oddly familiar. Her attention flickers back to Johnny as he strokes her weary face. His touch was delicate, movements careful and controlled. He treats her as if she were porcelain, afraid that his metal hand would cause her to crack. V exhales deeply, relishing the feeling she’s longed from the moment she had broken that dumb rule of hers.

“Go ahead,” she mumbles, giving Johnny consent for him to read her mind. It only takes a second, maybe even less. V half expects his shit-eating grin to make its appearance. She couldn’t forget how cocky he was, and she thought this would certainly rub his ego.

It never comes. Instead, Johnny’s lips turn up into a genuine smile, one softer than the way his black hair falls to frame his face. V swears she was floating; this doesn’t feel all that real to her. It couldn’t be real. But as the first faint slivers of sunlight appear on the horizon, she starts to believe that she isn’t dreaming nor hallucinating. She was still very much wide awake.

“Didn’t know you were the jealous type,” Johnny quips as he leans closer. “You had no reason to be jealous, princess.”

“Why not?”

“Nothin’ happen between Rogue and me,” he clarifies, his fingers pushing back her locks. “Yeah, we made out a little, but I couldn’t go through with it. Wanna know why?”

V nods.

“’Cause I realized that ship sailed a long time ago. We’re too different people now; she’s got her own life, while I got mine sittin’ right here.”

“Johnny…” she murmurs his name as he brings up his other hand to cradle her face. “I wanted to have what you and Rogue had, minus the shitty things you did. But I could feel how much you loved her, how you basically worshipped the ground she walked on. Then I thought, can’t compete with her. She’s a livin’ legend, a badass. Meanwhile, I could be dead the next minute or two, either by this fuckin’ relic or a bullet.”

“Trust me, V, you wouldn’t want that,” Johnny returns, resting his forehead against hers. How could he feel so real? “What you and I have is special. Ain’t felt this way before, not even with Rogue or Alt. Like I said, you’re the fuckin’ closest to me. These feelings you’re afraid of? Shit, I have them too, and I’m fuckin’ terrified. But knowing that you’re here and we both share them, it makes things a lot less scary.”

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

Johnny laughs softly. “Gotta spell it out for ya, huh? Well then, here it goes; V, I love you. I don’t throw that word around randomly, but know that it’s what I feel whenever I think of you.”

V doesn’t waste a second longer. Her lips meet his for a kiss that is gentle and bruising, all at once. They hold one another close, their grasps taut so that the other wouldn’t slip away, not wanting to lose what they’ve gained. Time goes by, ticking in the background as they kiss again and again, but to them, it’s slow, nearly everlasting.

And when it was over, when they finally had to part, they were breathless, panting.

“Love you too, Johnny,” she murmurs into his skin, tone dripping with affection as he hums in response.

Night melds into day, and the city comes back to its fullest life. V kisses Johnny a final time before driving back to the place she calls home, even though she’s found her true one in his heart.

—

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[americancowgirl19]

Expendable

Summary: Consumed by your grief over Jason’s death, you track down the Joker on your own. Only you end up finding some... thing very different.

Warnings: vampires, violence, depression, fluff, angst

Reader: Female Reader

Pairings: Dick Grayson x Reader (Platonic), Jason Todd x Reader (Platonic), Tim Drake x Reader (Platonic)

Word Count: 6,113

A/n: Enjoy

Masterlist

You heaved heavily hunched over the bathroom sink. Your fingers grip the edge of the counter top, knuckles turning white. Your eyes are screwed shut as you try not fall apart for the millionth time that week.

It’s only been a month since Jason died and you felt as if you saw his freshly dead body a few hours ago. Your dreams are riddled with nightmares. You can’t even escape the thoughts while awake.

All you can think about is Jason’s beaten and burned body. You can hear the Jokers mocking laugh when you and Batman found him after Jason’s death. Bruce refused to kill him and stopped you from doing it yourself. Batman turned him into Arkham and like everyone could predict, the pale bastard escaped.

Slowly, your eyes open. You look at yourself in the mirror. You try to push back the tears as visions of Jason plague your mind. 

You were Bruce’s daughter. You were a few years younger than Dick but a few years older than Jason. You and Dick had a rocky friendship the first couple of years but you managed to work it out. With Jason, however, the connection was instant.

The both of you had tempers. Tempers which the other knew how to calm. The two of you just had an understanding. You became close quickly. 

You didn’t want to believe that Jason was dead. You didn’t want to believe that Bruce just let Joke get away with it. You wanted your brother back, you wanted Bruce to avenge him.

“I’m sorry, Jason,” You whisper. You wished you could have been there to save Jason. If only you had gotten to him sooner. Just 5 minutes would have made all the difference.

Your anger bubbles up to the surface all at once and before you know it, your punching the mirror until it’s all broken in the bathroom sink. Ignoring the stinging pain in your hand, you march out of the bathroom.

You storm out of your room and head toward the Batcave. You didn’t have to worry about running into your father. He’s either hiding in his room or out capturing other bad guys that have nothing to do with Jason’s death. Because apparently everyone else mattered while you, Dick and Jason were expendable.

Not to you, however. Your brothers were not expendable to you. They’re your world and the fact that you couldn’t protect Jason killed you. If Bruce wasn’t going to avenge him then that responsibility fell onto you.

You changed into your Sparrow uniform. By the time your pulling your mask on and making your way to your motorcycle, Alfred is entering the cave. You ignore him but he isn’t a man you can just ignore.

“Ms. Y/n?” He questions. You adjust your getup and swing your leg over the bike. Before you can turn the bike on, the man you’re closer to than your own father appears before you. “Where are you going?”

“Out,” You answer. He gives you a look but you don’t back down.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” He advises.

“Then it’s a good thing I’m not asking for permission,” You snap. “Why don’t you go tend to daddy dearest and let me do what needs to be done?” Alfred looks even more concerned as you turn the bike on. You don’t allow yourself to feel guilty for being rude to Alfred. You have to stay focused.

You speed away from the manor and toward Gotham City. The Joker could be in a number of places but you knew who to ask to narrow down his location.

Before Jason’s death, you weren’t as ruthless as you were now. You were a happy medium between Bruce’s temperament and Jason’s. But now, you didn’t even recognize yourself anymore. 

You wanted blood.

You interrogated bad guy after bad guy. You left each of them in the streets, inches from death like the scum they were. You felt no sympathy for them as they struggled to breathe. You ignored their pleas for mercy and for help as you walked to your bike to find your next target.

You were so consumed on what you were doing and your goal to find the Joker that you didn’t realize you were being watched. And Bruce wasn’t the one stalking you.

“Where’s the Joker?!” You shouted before slamming your fist into the guys face. “Tell me!” You screamed. He grunted when you resorted to breaking his rips with your foot. You kicked him before he rolled onto his back prompting you to switch to stomping on his chest.

“Oh, you poor child,” A voice sounded from the shadows. In an instant, you whip the gun you had stolen out of the thigh holster and point it into the dark blindly.

“Show yourself,” You demand. You listen to the steps before a tall man comes into the moonlight. “Who are you?” You ask.

“Someone who can help you,” Your head tilts. “You can put that gun away, it cannot harm me.” He states.

“Who. Are. You?” 

“As I said, I’m someone who can help,” He says, sauntering closer to you. Your eyes narrow at him. “I know where the Joker is, I can take you to him,”

“Where is he?”

“I’ll tell you, but that information isn’t free,” He shakes his head.

“Tell me or you’ll end up like this deadbeat,” You motion to the man on the ground that’s slowly choking on his own blood. The man in front of you looks at him and smirks.

“You surely have potential... and you certainly have anger. Oh, so much anger,” He whispers coming forward. “You live on the need for vengeance. I can give it to you and so much more. All I want is to make a deal,”

“What kind of deal?” You ask, tilting your head. 

“I give you the Joker, and you give me your allegiance,” He says, stepping up to the end of the barrel of the gun. If you pull the trigger, the bullet goes straight through his heart.

“My allegiance?” You ask, slowly.

“You get the chance to finally sate your need for vengeance and you work for me.”

You stare into his eyes for a few moments before lowering your gun to the holster. He smirks and scoops you into his arms. Before you can ask a question he’s running at a speed that could outmatch the Flash.

“What the fuck?” You gasp when he comes to a stop and sets you down. “You’re a metahuman?”

“Not exactly,” He smirks. “I’ll explain everything once you’re finished. Inside is the Joker along with a lot of his friends. If you survive, you’ll be an excellent addition to my collection,” He states, prior to running off.

“Who the fuck is that guy?” You mutter to yourself. Sighing, you turn towards the building. A moment later, people start coming out. Large men in suits. They stop and look at you. A few draw their weapons. You smirk. “Who’s first?”

It took you a half an hour to reach the Joker. You’re not sure if you killed anyone, although it’s highly likely that you have. By the time you reach the pale skin fucker you’re covered in blood and bruises (maybe a bullet hole or two). Some of the blood is yours but most of it isn’t.

The Joker talks. He’s taunting you. Yet, you don’t really hear what he says. As you look at him, your mind is filled with images of Jason’s dead body. You stalk closer to him. 

You put your weapons away and pick up the crowbar you had found on a lower level. You had set it down in order to take care of the goons in the room quickly. 

But now you had the Joker right where you wanted him. You weren’t going to make this quick. Every time you brought the crowbar down on him, he only cackled loudly. Every strike just fueled your anger. 

You continued to beat him. At some point, his skull caved in but you continued to swing. You scream, tears falling down your face but you hardly notice. You just swing and swing until you collapse on the ground.

You let out one large, loud scream that echoes throughout the entire building. When you quiet down, your body curls into a tight ball and you begin to sob.

“Easy now, little one,” The inhuman man whispers, kneeling before you. “I’ll take your pain away,” He promises, picking you off the ground. “Rest now, I’ll look after you,” He whispers, racing you out of the building seconds before Batman shows up.

You don’t know how long you’re asleep, but when you wake up everything is different. You sit up from the unusually comfortable bed and look around. You don’t recognize where you are but at the moment it’s the least of your worries.

You never had absolutely perfect vision but now you’re eyes were acting like binoculars. You could see a far distance out the window and everything in clear detail that’s around you. Hell, you could even hear the cars going down the road miles from the house you’re in.

You move closer to the window but stop at the sound of the man who had taken you. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” You spin around toward him. You frown your eyebrows and look back to the window. You didn’t understand what he was warning you about. 

You soon find out when you step into the sunlight and find your skin heating up until it begins to burn. You gasp and speed to the other side of the room.

“What’s happening to me?” You whisper, watching your skin begin to blister. 

“Here, drink this,” He tosses you a bag. Your reflexes catch it. You want to ask what it is but your instincts take over as the smell reaches your nose. Within a minute, you have the bag drained of it’s liquid. 

When your done drinking, you look at the man. He nods to your arm and your eyes widen. You see your arm heal until there’s no trace of what had happened.

“Come, we have a lot to talk about,” You follow him down the hall. “My name is Vladimir but you may know me as Dracula,”

“Dracula?” You deadpan. “For real?”

“What? You do not believe that vampires are real? Even though you are one?” You stop walking. He stops as well and turns to you. “You are the daughter of Bruce Wayne, The Batman, you should be able to connect the dots,”

The blood, the enhanced senses, the vulnerability to light. You didn’t know how it was possible, but it was true. You were a vampire. You had made a deal with the devil... But oh, was it worth it.

****

“Whe-where am I?” A pale, redhead whimpers.

“Vicki Vale,” You state from the shadows. Your voice echoes off the walls making it impossible for her to pinpoint where you are. “So, you’re the one that’s obsessed with my father,” You growled. For a long time, the woman in front of you reported on both Bruce Wayne and Batman. She wrote article after article about him.

“Who are you?” She asks, in a shaky voice.

“Oh don’t worry, it’s not me you have to worry about,” You assure her, a smirk dancing on your lips.

“Alright, Y/n, that’s enough,” Vlad says coming into the room. Vicki gasps and turns to him. “Oh, you are beautiful,” Vlad whispers. “You will work perfectly,”

“Wh-what?” She whimpers, shying away from him.

“Y/n, leave Vicki to rest in peace, we have things to discuss,” Vlad calmly orders before turning to leave the room. You come out of the shadows, smirking when you startle her.

“So, she’ll work?” You ask him, the two of you walking toward his office.

“Yes, but we must move quickly. Your father and brother are causing trouble,” He tells you. Your head tilts at the information.

“They’ve killed more of your vampires?” You ask him.

“They found a way to cure them,” Vlad corrects you. “I need you to end them. I can’t afford to lose anymore vampires and I will not let them stop me from bringing Carmilla back,” He growls.

“Don’t worry, master, I’ll stop them,” You promise.

“I don’t want you to just stop them,” Vlad says, moving closer to you. “I want them dead and I want you to bring me their bodies. Do not fail me,” He growls.

“Have I ever?” You ask, smirking.

“Be quick about it,” Vlad orders. “The sun will be up in a few hours,”

****

“Viki Vale has gone missing,” Bruce informs Dick and Tim as he enters the Batcave. 

“Dracula?” Dick asks, crossing his arms in his Nightwing costume. His mask resting on the desk by Tim.

“He’s planning something. More and more people are being turned, we have to stop him before we’re too outnumbered.” Bruce says.

“Reports are coming in about a string of animal like murders in the Narrows. Fits vampire descriptions,” Tim says, reading the reports off the computer.

“Can you get a read on how many vampires there could be?” Dick asks.

“Doesn’t seem like a lot,” Tim mutters. “One, possibly two,”

“Let’s check it out,” Bruce orders. Tim nods standing up. He and Dick pull their masks on. Tim and Bruce get in the batmobile while Duke powers up the motorcycle. They both drive to the Narrows to investigate.

****

You hide in the shadows as the infamous Batman, Robin and Nightwing appear. You glare at the young Robin boy. Of course Bruce replaced Jason. It was typical for Bruce to replace someone. Fury fills your heart but you manage to control it knowing that if you waited a little longer, you would get the opportunity to unleash hell.

You didn’t want to hurt Dick. He’s your brother. But you didn’t have a choice. Vlad ordered you to kill them and that’s what you had to do. You wouldn’t necessarily take pleasure in killing your father and his newest protégé. However, you hoped that with Bruce’s death you would finally feel at peace with yourself.

You killed the Joker but your anger remained. You killed Jason’s bitch of a mother yet storm within you continued to rage. Maybe with the death of Batman you would finally know peace and tranquility. You didn’t blame Bruce for Jason’s death but you hated that he didn’t avenge him. You hated that he replaced him. That hatred mixed with your growing anger consumed you.

“This one’s still alive,” Dick announced, kneeling beside a woman. Bruce moved to kneel beside him while Tim wandered off. You smirked and followed him. You made some noise to draw him further from the others.

“You’re the new Robin, hmm?” You asked. Tim looked around. Technically, Tim wasn’t new. He had been at this for a couple of years now but you aren’t exactly up to date on the world around you. You’ve been training and isolated from the world for a long time. So, while Tim isn’t exactly new, he’s new to you.

He took a defensive stance but it wouldn’t do any good against you. You could kill him with a flick of your finger.

“We can help you,” Tim says, his eyes searching for you. “You don’t have to do this, you don’t have to be a vampire,”

“Oh, but I want to be,” You smirk, walking around him but continued to stay out of sight. Tim looks confused by your statement.

“We have a cure,” Tim states. You sneak up behind him.

“I don’t want it,” You whisper, in his ear. By the time he spins around, you’re out of sight. You grin, loving the sound of his heart hammering in his chest. “Tell me, what do you know about the Robin before you?”

“What?” Tim asks, tensing.

“You’re not Jason Todd,” You growl. Tim becomes increasingly more nervous. “So, may I know the name of his replacement?” You spit. He doesn’t answer you. “Fine, don’t answer, doesn’t matter anyway,” 

Tim tenses as things fall eerily silent. He goes to fall for back up but before he can finish the first syllable he’s lifted off the ground. You hand becomes tighter and tighter around his throat.

“You’re not Jason and you will never be him,” You growl, glaring at him. Tim choke, gripping your wrist but your grip doesn’t falter. His eyes widen a fraction as he recognizes you.

All throughout the mansion there’s picture of you. Dick talks about you all the time. He knows who you are but he can’t believe it. Bruce assumed you were dead, Dick insisted you were just missing. For nearly 7 years Dick worked to find you. Almost every spare moment went into finding some clue about you but you had vanished. 

“If you were,” You smirked. “You would have been able to take me down... You’re pathetic... Weak,” You bring him closer to your face. He struggles to breathe, looking even more terrified when your fangs extend. “And I’m so hungry,” 

Before you can feed on him, you’re knocked to the ground. You let Tim go as you tumble away. The boy collapses on the ground, coughing and struggling to breath in.

“Has anyone ever told you not to get between a vampire and her meal?” You growled, standing up. You turn to the man who had tackled you and smirked. There, only two feet away, is your older brother.

“Y/n,” Dick whispers, his defenses falling.

“Hey, big brother,” You wink. You take advantage of his astonishment and attack. You don’t even realize it but you’re holing back. You’re not going as fast as you could nor are you striking with all your strength. Hell, you’re barely hitting him with 20% power.

“Y/n! Stop! This isn’t you!” Dick shouts but you don’t listen to him. You grab his shoulders and fling him into a nearby wall. He collapses and struggles to breath.

“I’m not you’re little sister, anymore Dickie Poo,” You say, stalking up to him. “And all you are to me is a meal,”

“Then why haven’t you killed me yet?” Dick groaned pushing himself up. You freeze for just a moment but Dick notices it.

“What can I say? I’ve always liked playing with my food,” You growled, trying to cover up your hesitance.

“You’ve always been a shit liar, sis,” Dick teases. You hiss as he stands. “You’ll always be my baby sister, you’re just more of a pain in my ass right now,” He smirks putting up his hands. “And you hit like a bitch,”

Crying out, you attack Dick once again. This time you hold back even less but you’re still not aiming to kill him. It angers you as you hear Vlad’s comment in the back of your mind. Your vampiric instincts are fighting against your humanity. 

Just when you’re about to give into your inclination to follow your masters orders a batarang sinks into your arm. It snaps you out of your instinctual daze. You look at it before following it’s path. You’re eyes land on Batman. For the first time in years you stare into your fathers eyes.

Before anything can happen, something catches your attention. You turn your head and watch the sun begin to peak over the buildings. You’re out of time.

“Wait!” Dick shouts reaching for you but you’re already gone.

****

You stand in front of Vlad for a solid five minutes. Five minutes of absolute silence. Intense, awkward, silence. You barely have the strength to hold his gaze for these few minutes but know if you look away you’ll look weak.

“I told you not to fail me,” Vlad tells you.

“I underestimated the skill of-”

“You’re a vampire!” Vlad shouts. It takes everything in you to not flinch. “You have the strength of a hundred men! I could possibly forgive you not being able to defeat your father, I failed that as well. However, you couldn’t kill an 18 year-old boy? Or your older brother?” Vlad asks, walking toward you.

“My humanity got in the way,” Vlad backhands you harshly.

“Your humanity,” Vlad says slowly. “For 6 year I’ve been working so hard to perfect you and yet here you are, a disappointment.” He spits.

“I’ll make it up to you,” You promise.

“You will,” Vlad nods, walking back to his seat. “And if you fail me again. I will rip your heart out,” You bow to him. “Wait for my word in your room,”

“Yes, master,” 

****

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Tim asks, his voice horas. You had bruise his throat pretty good. It was a miracle he was able to talk at all at the moment.

“If anyone is going to get through to her, it’s him,” Dick assures him. Tim presses his lips together and follows his brother into the worn down building.

“How do we know he’ll even help?” Tim wonders.

“Because it’s Y/n,” Dick answers simply. Tim glances at him but says nothing else.

“You’ve got a lot of balls to come here, Dick,” Tim and Dick spin around to face Red Hood. Tim is in a defensive stance remembering the last time they had crossed paths. Red Hood and him fought, Tim barely escaping hospital time.

“Relax,” Dick mutters to Tim.

“What are you doing here, Dick?” He asks, looking around for Batman.

“Bruce isn’t here... It’s just us,” Dick assures him. They stare at each other for a moment before he takes off his red mask. “Jason,” Dick nods. Jason ignores the greeting and walks around them to get to his stuff. “Y/n’s alive,” Jason freezes completely. “We saw her a few hours ago,”

“Where?” Jason asks, keeping his back to them.

“Have you come across any vampires?” Dick asks. Jason turns to them.

“They’ve been crawling around town like cockroaches,” Jason says.

“Y/n’s one of them,” Dick tells him. “She attacked us a few hours ago. She tried to kill us but didn’t follow through.”

“We think that she still has some humanity left,” Tim says.

“I know she’s still in there.” Dick insists. “She could have very easily killed Tim and I but she held back,” Jason looks at the bruise around Tim’s throat. 

“She still mourns you,” Tim tells him. “If she knew you were alive, maybe we can get her back. If we can get her back to the mansion, we can cure her,”

****

“Everything is in place,” Vlad says. You stand in the background watching him. On the tables in the middle of the room lay two women. One is Vlad’s beloved Carmilla. The other is Viki Vale. The plan was to transfer Viki’s life essence into Carmilla to bring her back to life.

“Master,” A newly turned vampire interrupts. Vlad turns to her. “Batman, Robin and Nightwing have arrived.” Vlad snarls and turns to you.

“They must not stop the transference,” Vlad tells you.

“I will kill them once and for all master,” You vow.

“Kill the Batman, capture Robin and Nightwing. Take them to my office and keep them there,” Vlad orders. You tilt your head but nod.

“As you wish,” You bow and exit the room. You hunt down the three men but only find two of them; Dick and Tim. “I see your stubbornness has only increased with age,” You state standing at one end of the hall while they stand on the other. They look a little worn down but you can tell they still have plenty of energy.

“Guess I spent too much time around you as kids,” Dick shrugs, twirling his batons. 

“You should have stayed away,” You tell them, cursing yourself for how soft your voice had gotten. Your humanity, yet again, was showing. You pushed it back and locked it in a box but the little slip up was enough to confirm to both Dick and Tim that you could still be saved.

“You’ve been gone a long time, little sister,” Dick states. “It’s time to bring you home,”

“This is home,” You hiss. Dick shakes his head.

“This is a prison,” Dick corrects you. You smirk.

“You once said the same about Wayne Manor,” You remind him. You stare at him and your eyes flicker to Tim. “Join me,” You suggest. “We can give you the power you can only dream of,” You say, stepping closer to him. “We can be a family again,” You whisper, your humanity coming up once more. You allow it, for now.

“We can be a family,” Dick agrees. You perk slightly. “When you’re cured and back at the Manor,” Your face turns sour.

“Fuck the Manor,” You spat. “Fuck Bruce and Fuck Batman,” You hiss. “You think he cares?”

“He does!” Tim snaps. You laugh.

“Where did he pick you up from?” You ask Tim. “You must have a past. Bruce never takes in anybody mentally stable,”

“We’re not talking about that right now,” Dick cuts in. “If you don’t want to go to the manor, fine. Come with me,” Dick suggests. “I have an apartment in Bludhaven. You can stay with me... It’ll be like old times,” You’re so tempted to give in.

“I can’t,” You shake your head. “This is who I am now, this is where I belong,”

“No, you belong with us,” Dick insists.

“I haven’t belonged with you in years,” You mutter but he hears it. “I’m happy to see you alive, Dick... But you really should have stayed away,” You said, your voice hardening.

“We don’t have to do this,” Dick says. He and Tim fall into a defensive stance.

“I won’t go back,” You tell him. “Not with you, not with him and certainly not with Bruce,” You growl. “Why can’t you see that you’re not worth anything to him! All you are is an expendable tool! He’ll just replace you when you’re done being useful to him,”

“That’s a lie!” Tim shouts.

“Oh really?” You ask. “Then why are you standing here? Tell me, how long did he wait to replace Jason with you?” You wonder. “You’re nothing to him and when you die, he’ll move on like he always does and not give you a second thought!”

“You’re head is twisted, Y/n! You’re blinded by hatred and anger and grief, let us help you!” Dick pleads.

“No, I don’t need your help,” You growl racing toward them. Tim and Dick put up a good fight but you were done letting your humanity control you. Before they could pull any fancy tricks like they used to stop the other vampires, you knocked them out cold. Grabbing them by their collars you drag them to Vlad’s office. You lock them inside before hunting down your father.

You find him in the transference room fighting Vlad. You quickly join your master. With the both of you fighting against Batman, you’re beginning to overpower him. Until he uses a UV light which causes you and Vlad to scream in pain. When it’s gone, you slowly begin to heal.

“No! No! No!” Vlad screams seeing Vicki has disappeared before the transference  could complete. “NO!” You force yourself to a stand. You gasp when Vlad appears before you and grabs you by the throat. You struggle against him but he’s a great deal stronger than you. “I told you to kill him!” He snarls. You try to talk but he’s crushing your windpipe. “You’ve failed me for the last time,” He goes to rip your heart out when he’s pull away from you.

You fall to the ground and shake the dizziness from your head. You look up and see a grappling hook in Vlad’s chest. A man by the door holds the string and continues to pull Vlad from you until he gets his footing and yanks the man to him. You watch as Vlad throws him across the room.

“You vigilantes are a disease,” Vlad growls stalking toward him. You force yourself to stand. You feel your thirst begin to rise as your healing completes. 

Fresh blood gains your attention. You turn to the door seeing Dick and Tim at the entrance. You figured you had the guy in the red mask to thank for their escape

“Ah, look at this,” Vlad claps his hands. “A family reunion,” The red mask guy pushes himself up, grimacing at the pain in his back. “If you want another chance to live, Y/n,” Vlad turns toward you. “I want you to kill your brothers,”

You turn to Dick and Tim. They’re eyeing you as you eye them. The human voice in your head gets smaller and smaller as your animal instincts and need for blood overcome you.

“Kill them,” Vlad orders. Unable to fight his order, you advance to Dick. You stop when a clunk of stone is throne at your head. It doesn’t hurt you but it gets your attention. Your head snaps to the red mask guy with a growl.

“You on your period or something sis?” Your entire body freezes at the sound of his voice. No, it’s not possible. “You know how you get during that time of the month... I swear you turn into a fucking gremlin,” He raises his hands and takes the mask off. “Or, I guess, in this case a vampire,” Jason smirks.

“No,” You whisper shaking your head. “It’s not possible... You... you’re dead,”

“Didn’t stick,” He shrugs with that arrogant smirk of his. “Amazing what a Lazarus pit can do, huh?” Your breath hitches in your throat. It was possible.

“Y/n,” Vlad says regaining your attention instantly. “Kill. Them.” Your humanity vanished. With a hiss, you turn to attack Jason when Dick’s voice reaches your ears.

“You’re not expendable,” Dick states. You don’t look at him but it’s obvious you’re listening. “You mean so much more to us. We’re here for you and we’re not leaving without you. You’re one of us, not this creature he’s turned you in,”

“You know how much I hate agree with Dickwad,” Jason chuckles. “But on this, I do. Look, we’ve both changed over the years and that’s fine but that doesn’t change the fact that we’re brothers and you’re our sister. You went against father and killed the Joker for me. You beat the shit out of that one girl that cheated on Dick. You’ve stood up against Bruce for both of us on more than one occasion. You’ve always been there but now we’re here for you. It’s time to come home. Come with us,”

“Kill them!” Vlad shouts. Your eyes screw shut as you struggle between obeying Vlad and listening to your brothers. Realization hits Tim like a freight train.

“Don’t listen to him!” Tim encourages you. It finally made sense. All the vampires they came across were unnaturally loyal to Dracula. It was like they had forgotten their human lives and followed him. He figured it was just instinct but it was something more than that. Vampires were connected to their creator, Dracula, on a level they had severely underestimated. Tim theorized that Dracula had gotten to you, changed you, and manipulated/forced you to follow him. You had to follow his orders but that didn’t mean you wanted to.

You showed multiple signs of humanity. Dick and Jason were you’re anchors to your human side. If you could fight against Dracula’s orders then you could sever the connection. If that happened, getting you back to the manor and cured would be much easier.

“He’s the one who doesn’t care! He’s the one who believes you’re expendable, not us! We care about you, we’ll help you but you have to break his hold over you!” Tim said as clearly but as quickly as he could.

“Shut up!” Vlad shouted turning toward him. Before he could attack, Jason launches a wooden stake at him. It doesn’t kill him but it knocks them to the ground. “Kill them, Y/n! Kill them right now!”

You groan. Your hands grip your hair and begin to pull. You felt as if your head was being torn apart. You fall to your knees. A large part of you wanted to kill them, needed to kill them. Yet a big enough part of you didn’t.

“Y/n,” Jason says, softly. He slowly knelt a few feet in front of you. 

“Kill me,” You whimper, looking into his eyes. “I can’t hold myself back for long,”

“You can,” Jason encourages you. “You’re not going to hurt me, Dick or Tiny Tim,” Tim scowls but remains silent. “You’re Y/n Y/L/N. You were turned when you were 18 years old but you’re 24. You’re favorite food is y/f/f and your favorite show is y/f/s. You always let me sneak into your room if I was having trouble sleeping and you always helped me through the bad days just like I did for you. We look after each other, we have since we met each other. That didn’t stop when I died and it isn’t going to stop since you’re a vampire,”

In the corner of your eye you see Dick and Tim going to end Vlad. Something within you snaps. You snarl and before you know it you’re protecting your master. Before you can reach Dick and Tim, something pierces your shoulder. You look down to see a similar grappling hook hooked into you.

You gasp as Jason yank you back. You snarl and struggle but Jason is able to fight against you allowing Dick and Tim to destroy your master.

“No! NO!” You scream. The pain of your bond to Dracula is excoriating. You scream and writhe on the ground.

“It’s alright sis,” Jason whispers, knocking you out with a special tool they used on all the other vampires. “You’re safe now,” He whispers picking you up. “How do we cure her?”

“We have a serum at the manor,” Tim says,

“Bring it to my place,” Jason ordered. Tim goes to argue but Dick lays a hand on his shoulder. Dick nods and Jason nods back.

****

When you wake up you have the worst hangover known to man. You groan, your hand slapping your forehead. You try to think about what could have given you this feeling but you get nothing. Until everything comes rushing back to you a minute later.

All the killings, Dracula and the whole vampire ordeal hardly phases you. What makes your heart quench is the man you saw before you passed out.

“Jason!” You cry out, sitting up quickly. The motion causes you to groan again.

“Easy, easy,” You’re gently pushed back onto the bed. “Welcome back to the land of the living,” Opening your eyes, you look at Jason. You really look at him. He still has that spark, that anger in his eyes but there’s also relief and happiness. You lift your hand and gently caress his face. He leans into your touch.

“You’re real,” You whisper.

“Yeah, I’m real,” He whispers, tears coming to his eyes. “I thought I lost you there for a second,” He laughs.

“I did lose you,” You whimper. 

“I know, I’m so sorry,” Jason gently pushes you over and climbs into the bed. You instantly hug him with all your might. “I’m here now and I won’t be leaving your side for a damn long time,”

“You saved me,” You whisper. “You, Dick and Tim,” You whimper the tears coming down your face.

“You just got a little lost for a while,” Jason muttered. “You would do the same if any one of us was in your position,” You nod, snuggling into his chest. He rubs circles into your back. “Everything’s going to be ok, now... You’re cured, Dracula’s dead and you’re with me,”

“Can I stay with you?” You whisper, looking up at him.

“I thought I told you that you weren’t leaving my side for a long time,” Jason smirks. “We have 6 years to catch up on and I need my big sis to keep my head on straight,”

“I need you too, Jason...” You whisper. “God, do I need you,” You snuggle back into his chest. He kisses the top of your head and holds you even tighter. “I was so lost without you,”

“Shh.. You don’t have to worry about living without me again,” Jason promises.

“Good... Because next time, you die I die,” Jason smirks.

“We’re going to be one kick ass team,” Jason mutters. You grin closing your eyes. The both of you got the first real sleep you had since Jason died.

[astarryon]

Amends

Pairing: Bucky x reader

Warnings: mentions of violence and weapons, slight language, short fight scene, etc.

Summary: The last thing you expect to find when you come home is the most important ghost from your haunted past.

A/N: Not really sure where this one came from, just something I dreamed up after watching the first episode of TFATWS! Let me know what y’all think!

Masterlist

It’s the sharp, cloying scent of cologne that tips you off.

You don’t think much of it at first, initially having caught the trail of it down the hall from your apartment door. Automatically, you assume it belongs to one of your neighbors, or even one of the guests they’ve invited over for the night. Nothing to harbor any sort of significant concern over.

That changes the instant you reach your front door.

It’s locked. In addition to that, the hall light is off, and from what you can see there’s only darkness to be seen beyond the bottom crack of the door. For all intents and purposes, as far as you can tell, everything is exactly how you’d left it upon leaving your home earlier in the evening. But the closer you’d walked to your door, the more concentrated the scent had become –– to the point that it’s now the only thing your sharpened senses can focus on.

You didn’t used to be like this. Paranoid. Always instantly assuming the worst, to note something as simple as the smell of cologne hanging in the air and immediately jump to the conclusion that it meant someone had finally come to put an end to you. There’d been a time, once, when you trusted easily and laughed with everyone. When you would make conversations with strangers as you passed them by on the street, when you could spend ages soaking in the sun with your eyes closed with no worry of whether you’d open them to find a knife buried in your chest or a bullet lodged in your skull.

But you hadn’t been that way in a very, very long time. And as you crack the door to your apartment open, reaching for the knife hidden at your hip as the cologne’s stench only grows stronger, you can’t help but wonder if that isn’t as much a blessing as it is a curse.

Your apartment is dark, but that doesn’t make much difference to you. You’ve got the space memorized like the back of your hand, know where each corner is and where every weapon is placed –– home court advantage. Stepping inside and closing the door as softly as you can, you make sure to keep your back to the wall, clutching the handle of your knife ever tighter. You might know your way around, but you’ve been intentionally dulling your senses, your reflexes, in an effort to bury the past and leave it behind you. You’re not entirely sure where the intruder is in your home, and you’ll be damned before you let them get the drop on you before you’ve put up a proper fight.

And then you hear it. A creak in the floor boards with the shifting of body weight, just to your right. In your chest, your heart thumps so forcefully that you’re positive its bound to explode right through your ribcage, and you know you don’t have much time, but that doesn’t stop you from slipping your eyes closed for the single spare second you do have and steeling yourself for what’s sure to come before opening them again, sliding your gaze just over your shoulder to assess the present threat.

Your mouth instantly runs dry the moment you lay eyes on him.

“I���m not here to hurt you,” he says softly, but your reflexes kick in the moment he speaks and before you can blink, you launch at him in a flurry of fists and panic.

That face. How many hours have you spent trying to convince yourself you would never see that face again, never have that bone chilling, bloodcurdling voice rasping in your ear? How much time have you spent nervously glancing over your shoulder, moving from apartment to apartment because something in your gut told you he was on your trail? You didn’t want to believe it, had always tried to reassure yourself that he was gone –– that all of Hydra was gone –– but you’d never quite managed to convince yourself.

And, given that you’d just walked into your apartment to find the Winter Soldier staring back at you, that was apparently for good reason.

He blocks the first hit you throw at him easily, sidestepping out of its way. The second manages to clip him on the jaw, though it doesn’t succeed in knocking him back as it would on any normal person. He opens his mouth to speak again, but you don’t give him the chance to get a word out before you send a kick flying toward his face. He’s forced to duck and roll, which in turn gives you an opening to launch another kick, but he reaches out with a hand and clamps a vice like grip around your ankle.

All it takes is one decisive tug for him to put you flat on your back.

“Stop,” he snaps, reaching to knock the knife from your grip. Funny, that. In your panic to land a hit on him, you hadn’t even thought to make use of it. “Stop fighting. I’m not here to hurt you.”

It’s the second time the words fall from his mouth, but as with the first, they don’t leave much of an impression.

The Winter Soldier looks just the same as the last time you’d been in his presence, save for shorter hair and a clean shaven face. His skin is still pale as a sheet, turned ghostly in the few slivers of moonlight that manage to creep their way through the blinds hanging in the window. His eyes are still ice, a shade of blue that makes you grind your teeth and sets your nerves on edge. He’s got that same melancholy about him that had been there the first time you’d seen him, though now you knew better than to sympathize with it, to trust it.

Making that mistake years ago had cost you your life as you knew it.

“Get off me,” you command, struggling hard.

It’s no use –– his grip is much too strong. You won’t be going anywhere until he wants you to.

“Please stop,” he tries, an odd desperation in his words.

“Get off me!” you yell again, kicking with your legs like a helpless child.

The Winter Soldier clamps the hand not preoccupied with pinning your wrists above your head over your mouth, waiting for your muffled screams and swears to die down before trying to speak again.

“Look, this is simple,” he sighs tiredly, inexplicable sadness shining in his eyes. “I will let go of you as soon as you calm down. Alright? All I want is to have a conversation.”

You want to call bullshit, but his hand over your mouth still robs you of your voice. You aren’t sure what game he’s playing, but it doesn’t seem like he’s leaving you with much of a choice but to participate. And… well, technically up to this point, every move he’s made has been defensive. Perhaps playing along wouldn’t necessarily be the worst course of action.

He removes his touch from your body as soon as you nod and go still, making it clear that you have no intention to repeat your flurry of attacks from before. Part of you is tempted to make an attempt to pull one over on him, strike and get up and leave as fast as you can, but you know it would be in vain. He’s faster than you, always has been. It wouldn’t take more than a passing second for him to get his hand around your throat and squeeze.

The two of you sit together in silence for a few awkward minutes, trading nothing but ragged, adrenaline spiked breaths and charged stares between you. Just when you’re sure his ploy for peace had been nothing more than a cheap trick to allow him time to catch his breath before finishing the job and killing you, he opens his mouth, then closes it again, and repeats this sequence of actions two more times before actually giving a voice to his words.

“My name is James,” he tells you, casting his eyes down to the floor. “I’m… I’m not who I used to be.”

“You’re not?” you seethe, barely managing to keep your volume level in check. “You sure look the same.”

“I’m not,” the Winter Soldier –– or, James, as he’d introduced himself –– insisted. “Not at all.”

“That’s funny,” you spit, hands trembling where you’ve forced them to remain down at your sides. If you squeeze your fists any tighter, you’ll be sure to snap a bone. “Because I remember you. You and all the little lessons you made sure to incorporate into your training.”

“That wasn’t me,” James mutters lowly, jaw working hard enough that the grind of his teeth was audible.

“Oh, wasn’t it, though?” you hiss, flashes of red anger lacing your vision. “You weren’t the one who dislocated my arm and then forced me to spar without resetting it? You weren’t the one who taught me to lie by holding a blade to my throat and pressing the knife harder against my skin every time you saw a shift in my expression? Neither of those were you?”

“No,” he mumbles, but you hardly hear it, and you don’t care to.

You aren’t done with him. Not yet.

“Then you also must not be the one responsible for the deaths of my family,” you throw at him, the tang of iron souring the back of your tongue. “The one who took my parents away from me with the squeeze of a trigger? The same one who happens to be the whole reason that Hydra managed to get their hands on me in the first place? You knew what it was like, to be taken and turned into a monster, a–– a machine for them to build to suit their needs and use whenever they felt like they didn’t have enough power, but you didn’t care. You could have stopped that from happening to me, but you didn’t.”

“That wasn’t me,” James snaps, raising his hoarse voice at you for the first time all evening. The sudden outburst is so jarring it takes you aback, forcing a pause in the functions of your brain. All you can do is continue gazing upon the quiet anger which slowly boils into James’ features. “You were with Hydra for twenty years before Steve blew their cover, I was with them for seventy. Seven decades, doing the work of the people I enlisted in the world war to stop in the first place. Knowing that, do you honestly think the things I did were at all my own decisions?”

You cross your arms, swallowing hard as your gaze switches from his contorted expression to the floor. You don’t want to hear this. All these years hiding, trying to get back to some semblance of normal and carve out as much of a life as you could for yourself, it hadn’t been the faces of the Hydra operatives that haunted your nightmares each time you closed your eyes to fall asleep. It had been one with eyes blue as ice and twenty times colder, no compassion, compunction, or remorse to be found at all within their depths. One with a gaze deader than any of the corpses he’d been responsible for making.

That face was his.

“So why are you here then?” you sigh, still staring at the floor. You can’t trust yourself with anything else, not right now. Actually looking up at him holds the potential to yield very dangerous results. “To finish the job? I’m not stupid, I know none of the other agents are left. But if you think I’m just going to sit here all quiet and make killing me easier on you––”

“Oh, you people and your assumptions,” James mutters blackly under his breath, reaching a gloved hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “That is not why I’m here. Which I might have been able to tell you if you’d just let me get a word in edgewise.”

“You mean like you used to let me?” you scoff, rolling your eyes to the ceiling and doing your damnedest not to give into the rage rising in your chest. “You’ll have to forgive me for not buying that, considering the entirety of our past and all.”

“Christ,” he gripes, more to himself than to you, “and Raynor says I’m paranoid.” The name isn’t one you recognize, but to James its significance is clear. Speaking it seems to serve as a reminder to him, and he exhales deeply and loosens his shoulders in response to it. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say he almost appeared to be counting himself down to his next sentence –– like it was so important he needed to work his way up to it. “I’m here… because…”

You blink, tilting your head to the side as you await his explanation. Actively refraining from attempting any guesses. Not exactly a challenge. If he truly didn’t come here to kill you, then his motive was a complete mystery.

Ages pass before he finally works up the nerve to say what he’s been meaning to.

“I’m here,” he sighs, carefully enunciating each word like he’s afraid they’ll break if he doesn’t pay them enough care, “because I am no longer the Winter Soldier. I am… I am James Bucky Barnes, and you are part of my effort to make amends.”

His words are small, crafted with the brittleness of glass and about ten times as fragile. They’re spoken so resolutely that you’re positive this isn’t the first instance in which he’s uttered them to another human, but they seem… choked, for lack of a better description. Judging by his grimace, they clearly don’t come easily, either.

You’re entirely unsure what to make of them.

“You don’t have to say anything,” James assures you, clasping his hands together in a manner that almost looks meek. “I don’t expect… What I’m trying to say is that it’s not transactional, this apology. There isn’t anything I want from you, or anything I’m looking to take. Just… My doctor, she had me write out a list of names of people to confront, and some to apologize to. That’s the one yours is on.”

You hear the words coming out of his mouth. What’s more, you understand them in a conceptual sense. But for some reason your brain lags in correlating the words and their meanings, in properly contextualizing them in accordance with his soft tone and the sincere regret in his eyes. Of all the nights you’d spent living in fear of this exact moment, that your mentor of once upon a time would one day appear to quietly finish you off, the last thing you’d ever expected to be met with instead was this.

Whatever this was, exactly.

You scan his body head to toe once more, searching more carefully this time. Dressed in all black as he was, it made it slightly more difficult to be certain, but you don’t see any telltale signs of a gun hiding anywhere beneath his clothing. That didn’t mean there wasn’t one, nor did it mean there was no knife strapped to his arm or tucked away in his boot, but you could spy no evidence.

So, no weapons. No yelling, other than to cut through your assumptions of violence. No hissed warnings or threats. No apparent sign he’s looking for a fight. Each of your senses scream at you to ignore all of this, to put no trust at all into the meaningless words of a man, a machine, who had only ever served to bring strife and suffering into your life. Even in spite of the realization that he’s likely unarmed, you still find yourself tempted to attack and flee before he inevitably makes his move.

But then…

“Why?”

The question catches each of you by surprise. James, because he clearly hadn’t expected much of a response, and if he got one, he didn’t think it would be simple as a posed curiosity, and you, because you hadn’t truly meant to ask the question aloud.

“Why…?” James echoes, brow furrowing in confusion. Certainly a sight to behold. Time away from existing as the Winter Soldier had evidently made his face that much more expressive.

Strange, that there could be so much to read in that face, yet so little at the same time.

You open your mouth to speak, carefully sifting through words in your mind before deciding upon the proper combination to convey your meaning. “Why would you want to do something like that?”

James squints in confusion. “Apologize?” he reiterates, gears in his head visibly turning a mile a minute.

“You had to know what I would think,” you explain, “seeing you after all this time. You say you have a list? Well, I can’t be the only one who instantly jumped to the worst case scenario. Why would you… why would you want to put yourself through something like that? A slideshow of the people you hurt? That’s painful, James.”

“No more painful than all the things I did to them,” James sighs, shoulders deflating. “To you. And anyway, it wasn’t me who did all those things. It was someone else’s will, I was just… I was just the tool. That’s not something I can change, and I can’t bring back all the people Hydra used me to kill. But I can apologize for it, because I am sorry. Just like I’m sorry for my part in what happened to you.”

You can see it more clearly, now. The human in him. Before, he’d been cold. Mechanic. Void of any and all emotion as far as the eye could see. That had made it easy to hate him, all those days he’d made you fight, spar, endure endless physical and emotional pain until you learned to be the tool Hydra wanted you to be. In your pain, your rage, your fear that all you would know for the rest of your existence were dark rooms and metal walls, the Winter Soldier had been the one to incur your wrath.

But this man was not the one you’d known. This man was different. This was a man whose eyes glimmered with remorse so bright it looked like unshed tears. This was a man with a face so expressive it was hard to believe you’d known its features for decades. A man who only wanted to talk, because if he’d had a more sinister motive in coming here, you would surely be dead by now.

Just as he’d told you moments ago, this man was not the Winter Soldier.

“Does it help?” you question, unable to force your words above a whisper. “Seeking people out, apologizing like this.”

“Not in the way you’re thinking,” James tells you, blue eyes wandering back to the floor. The light of the moon peeking through your window casts them an odd tone of silver. “It doesn’t take the hurt away, not for me or for them. But it helps to say it out loud, that I’m not that person anymore. Not everyone believes it, but all of this isn’t for them. It’s for me.”

“To what end?” you ask, words coming out harsher than you mean them to. “What’s the point, then?”

James shrugs a shoulder, head shaking. “My doctor says closure,” he supplies, reaching up almost nervously to scratch at the back of his neck with a gloved hand. “Making amends helps process difficult situations. It’s not easy, but I figure it’s as good a shot as I’ve got to move on from all of this.”

All James was looking for was a way to move on. Wasn’t that the same thing you’d been trying to do these past few years, when you laid down to sleep at night and did your best to push all the faces of the people you’d hurt at Hydra’s direction out of your mind? You certainly wouldn’t consider yourself the same person you’d been back then. Was it really fair of you to condemn James to his past in the way you’d been trying so hard to escape yours?

“I’ve been at this a long time, James,” you sigh, shaking your head. “Trying to move on from my past, trying to… forget. So far, it hasn’t worked out.”

“Forgetting isn’t the point,” James responds carefully, analyzing your face with marked carefulness. “You’ll never be able to forget. The past will always be there. It’s not something you can run from.” He pauses then, and the next time he speaks it sounds as if he’s been struck hard by a sudden epiphany. “But you can come to terms with all of it,” he goes on, “if you try. And you really gotta try, ‘cause otherwise all that bad will still be waiting for you when you wake up in the morning. Take it from someone who knows.”

And you don’t really know what to say to that. You’re not really sure what you can say. James’ certainty is tangible. You can feel it in his words, the way they tickle your brain like ribbons and set your mind rolling down a path you don’t altogether recognize. You want to ask him about it, make him elaborate further on all that he’s said, pick each and every one of his sentences apart until you understand the methods and reasonings for what he’s doing so you can know for sure if it will work for you the same it clearly seems to be working for him.

But he’s clearing his throat and running a hand through his dark hair before you get the chance.

“Like I said,” James tells you. “I’m very sorry for the hurt and the pain my actions have caused you. I can’t take it back, and I can’t change the past. All I can do now is try to be someone better. I hope… I hope you understand.”

And then he’s gone, out the front door so quickly you don’t realize until it shuts behind him.

You scan through your dark apartment, taking note of all your surroundings. James has left no sign of his presence, hasn’t disturbed a single one of your belongings. Even his footsteps over the floor on his way out had been remarkably silent –– though that, you supposed, was characteristic of his capabilities. Here and gone in an instant, fluid as a ghost.

The realization that you’d only been aware of his presence before entering your apartment because he’d wanted you to be strikes you dumb.

He hadn’t come here to cause you harm, hadn’t shown up at your home to kill you, rid himself and the rest of the world of the living reminder of the dark things which had gone on in the Hydra base –– though, doing so would have required such little effort on his part. No, James… James’ reason for seeking you out had been exactly what he’d told you.

Making amends, in an attempt to forgive himself for the things which others surely couldn’t. Perhaps that had been your mistake all these years. Rather than beating the past out of your mind with a stick, refusing to acknowledge it for everything you’re worth… maybe trying something else was the correct way to go.

Surely taking a page out of James’ book couldn’t hurt.

Your body took charge through no accord of your own, and before you realized it, you were standing in your kitchen beneath the glow of a single light staring down at a blank sheet of paper, fingers turning the pen in your grasp over and over again in your palm.

Names. You needed to write down names. But doing that would require you to actively delve into your past, and you weren’t sure that was something you could handle much of tonight. But there was one name which immediately sprang to mind, one repeating itself over and over in your head like a mantra. Sighing, you uncapped the pen and touched its point to paper, hastily scrawling out a single name before setting it back down on the counter.

James Bucky Barnes.

A list of names to make amends, half to confront, half to apologize.

You’d been on his. It only makes sense that he’d be on yours, too.

[the-blind-assassin-12]

Point of No Return - Part Twelve

A/N: EVERYONE PRETEND IT ISN’T AFTER MIDNIGHT AND THAT I AM NOT INCAPABLE OF POSTING THINGS AT A NORMAL HOUR OR ON TIME... haha...ha. Anyway... this one took a lot out of me and I there is only one more chapter left and i am DRAINED... you’ll understand by the end. 

Warning: discussion of illness, injury

Summary: Ezra, Cee and Clara reflect on things that have changed and try to pinpoint the exact moment that those changes occurred. Some are easier to see than others but what matters most is how to move forwards once the switch happens...for as long as possible. 

Word Count: 5.7k

All change occurs in a single instant. 

No matter how long the buildup, no matter how tightly coiled the tension becomes or how ragged and thin things wear, there is always a solitary moment that can be pinpointed as the absolute time of the shift; the second that something becomes something else. Time is only running out while sand still slips through the pinched passageway of an hourglass. It isn’t over until the final grain leaves the upper chamber of the instrument and lands on top of the heap in the lower one. 

A thread pulls until it snaps. Friction rubs until a spark ignites, a bullet flies until it sinks into its target, a body of water will chill and chill until it crystalizes. 

Sometimes those moments are predictable, a series of signals and alerts telegraphing the impending transition with enough time to react before it happens. Sometimes they strike with the frenetic speed of an electric pulse like lightning. No warning, no time to find shelter- a shock in every sense of the word. 

Then there was change that crept in immeasurable, uneven increments. Not all at once, not reliably expected, but quiet and crouching, like a predator stalking its prey before the pounce. 

Like falling in love. Like finding a home. Like a fever climbing one degree at a time. 

—  —  —  —  —  —  

For three days, things were close to perfect.

Clara and Cee had come back inside from their tour of the farm, the sound of their combined laughter filling the kitchen and floating up the stairs to warm Ezra’s soul. It soothed him in a way he hadn’t thought possible since the last time he left Kamrea, to have the people that mattered most to him under the same roof, to know that they were safe, happy even. The very idea that he was getting another chance at this- a life, a family, all the things he thought he’d lost for good- was enough to mute the angry aches that had started clamouring for his attention when he woke up that morning, enough to push the pain and fatigue to the back of his consciousness.

For those three days, Ezra had everything.

After inadvertently falling asleep on the porch, waking up crunched and crumpled but together, he and Clara had ended their continued separation, choosing to sleep side by side instead. Though his bandages and injuries still prevented him from holding her as close and as tight as he craved her, Ezra wouldn’t complain. It meant pressing his lips to hers before hearing the tired, content little hum she’d make as she settled into the pillows. It meant the dip of the mattress as she rolled onto her side, the sight of her face, eyelids weighted with sleep as she tried to keep them open, the grasp of her fingers as they reached across the sheet to twine with his. It meant words mumbled into the darkness and thumbs swept over knuckles until all movement ceased and their breathing evened out as they slept.

It meant three mornings of waking up steeped in her, in them, in the moments that had come to him in his most desperate and dire times on the Green when the thought of having them again seemed like a far-fetched fantasy. Her lips brushing over his cheek to whisper his name like a rope thrown down to pull him from sleep, the full length mirror catching the pre dawn light coming in through the window to pour over her skin, the soft ends of her hair like a feather tickling his shoulder as she leaned away. 

“I’ll see you in a few hours,” she’d say, combing her fingers through the shock of platinum in his dark, overgrown curls, a warm smile in her eyes as they lingered places on his face- the fan of creases at the outer corners of his eyes, the fullness of his lips, half-hidden by the patchy beard and mustache he was growing, the faint curved scar on his cheek where she’d first put him back together- before reluctantly leaving him to head down to the fields and her work. 

Ezra would watch her go, a sluggish but enamored smile tugging his mouth to one side. The residual comfort of several hours spent with his heart’s match beating right there next to him was enough to shove any body aches back into his bones, enough to erase the heaviness in his lungs and the sting between his ribs, and he would give back in to sleep until the Harvest Star’s vibrant color and light poked at his eyelids to pull him awake once more. 

For those three days, years melted like snow in summer. 

In that secondary slumber he would slip into the past, reliving the memories that her presence revived, basking in the fullness of them that he wasn’t afforded so far from the farm. The big things were all always there, etched into the walls of his mind- wrapping her in his arms as he returned from a stand away, playfully tackling her into the grass between the Thulian rows, planting a kiss to her cheek as she carried baskets and trays out for the harvest feast. They were all obvious things, bookmarked and dogeared as parts of their life he’d always remember, even as they happened in real time. It was the smaller things that came to him in those morning hours, the moments of change that he didn’t realize at the time of their occurrence, the kind that could only be appreciated with a backwards glance- the moment Clara became more to him than he ever imagined a person might. 

It was the last night of the second week of the Thulian harvest, and Ezra couldn’t sleep. The night air drifting into the open window of the dormitory rooms above the barn was warm but not unpleasantly so, and tinged with the sweet scent of the pink pollen. Aldo, Kinny and the others had all found rest as quickly as their heads had found their pillows, the thin walls that separated the rooms doing little to drown out their snores. The snared, saw-tooth sound of their breathing joined the songs of crickets and the whistle of the breeze through the harvested stalks in the field. It wasn’t the heat of the harvest season or the nighttime noises that kept him from drifting off, though. 

Turning onto his back, Ezra blinked at the ceiling. He bent his right arm, that hand diving under his pillow, and rested his left across his stomach. Right knee pointed up towards the wooden beams that held the roof over his head and swaying slowly from side to side, he tapped his pointer finger atop his abdomen and let out a breath. The sigh turned into a smile that prompted a small laugh which he couldn’t quite reason out, and though he knew that if he didn’t get some sleep he would be sorry for it the next day, he couldn’t be bothered to care much. 

It had been ages since he felt as at peace as he had since landing on Kamrea. At first he attributed it to the excitement of the promotion with BGCM Co. that had dictated his stay on the agricultural planet in the first place, a simple case of enjoying his own accomplishments and acknowledging what he’d earned. But the more time he spent on the farm the less he found himself thinking about the Green. Instead of the itch that usually preceded his trips to the treasure filled forest moon, instead of that urge to unearth the amber bulbs of aurelac, instead of trying to guess how many points his next pull would bring him, Ezra found himself growing more and more fond of the place he thought would merely be a way station on his journey to riches. 

The way that Clara’s eyes lit up over the top of the bandana covering her mouth and nose as she smiled at him in the field that day didn’t hurt, either.  

I could establish a life here, easily.  He lifted his hips to resettle in a more comfortable position, turning slightly so that he could look out the window and bringing his left hand to join his right under his head. Find a place in town, maybe rent a room somewhere between cycles or- 

A loud bang from outside the barn broke through his musings and sent him bolting upright, setting him on high alert. What was- Feet straight to the floor, Ezra was out of bed and heading towards the small circular window in nothing flat. On the Green, sudden noises generally meant danger was close, and despite how comfortable he found himself here, there was nothing that would undo the conditioning that had been drilled into him during every training session, every prospecting mission and every dig team he had been a part of- gunshots anywhere were tricky business, but gunshots on the Green almost certainly meant death. 

Not on the Green now though, I’m… He blinked to remind himself of his surroundings, holding his breath to listen for any other clues, any indications of danger. When none came, the rest of the farmhands still sleeping heavily, he finally relaxed, surveying the darkened fields that surrounded the barn, and the house just beyond them. There were a number of tall crater-oaks standing like sentinels around both structures, their limbs strong but still swaying with the summer breeze. Must’ve been a tree branch in the wind or- 

Before he finished that thought, a single bulb clicked to life on the front porch of the house, his eyes snapping there as Clara came into view. The sound he’d heard made sense then as she stepped away from the screen door. The adrenaline flipped into amusement as he recalled the way the kitchen door had swung and banged shut when she came outside to meet him the day he’d been hired. Huh. 

“You can’t sleep either, Huckleberry?” He spoke quietly into the darkness, watching as she descended the small staircase, striding towards the fields. 

Curiosity peaked beyond good sense, Ezra made a decision. He reached for the dark olive tee he’d thrown off before climbing into bed in just the pair of grey shorts he wore, and pulled it back on. No need for us both to be awake at this hour and be… alone. Stuffing his feet into his boots, he didn’t bother with the laces, only tucking them loosely under the leather tongue so he wouldn’t trip over them climbing down from the loft. 

He’d be lying to himself, a practice that Ezra did not adhere to, if he said that he wasn’t attracted to Clara. She was a beautiful woman, sharp eyes and a smile that could rival the dawn, there was no questioning that. But Ezra had met dozens of beautiful women in his travels, and none of them had pulled him from his room this late at night simply for a chance at conversation. He had only gotten to know her as well as two weeks worth of working the harvest had allowed, but now, as the clock ticked towards his impending departure, Ezra was determined not to settle only for what he’d been given. 

By the time he had pushed the door wide enough to step out into the night, Clara had crossed through the fields, coming into the clearing in front of the barn, and his unexpected presence caused her to jump slightly, sucking in a gasp. “Oh! It- Ezra?” 

Holding his palms out towards her as he took another step, he nodded. “Apologies, Clara, it was not my intention to frighten you.” 

She crossed her arms over her chest and shook her head, the silver light of the night sky shining on her hair and highlighting the creases in her brow. “I’m… you didn’t I-” she sighed. “What are you doing out here?” 

Licking his lips to wet them and tasting the sweet Thulian that hung in the air, he let out a small chuckle. “I could venture to ask you the same thing.” She scoffed, but he could see the smile she was failing to hide, her eyes softening with each blink of her lashes. Same thing you’re doing, I imagine. “I heard the door,” he explained, gesturing with one hand towards the house. “Came out to see what-” 

“You heard that all the way from here?” She had glanced over her shoulder, and when she spun back there was something in the way that she was looking at him that he couldn’t quite place. 

“I did,” he nodded, walking a few paces closer to where she stood. “You learn to develop a keen ear when you’re forced to experience life through the globe of a helmet,” he told her, which was the truth. Though the helmets that he and his team wore while working on the Green were all fitted with radio systems, ensuring that they could communicate as long as they clicked on to the right channel, the rest of the time it was sealed silence inside the enclosed dome around his head. “If you don’t, you tend to miss things.” And I don’t like missing things. 

“Oh yeah?” Tilting her head, Clara let her arms drop back to her sides and shrunk the distance between the two of them by three more steps. Now that she was closer, he could see that the top of her shoulder, exposed in the tank top that she wore, was covered in freckles to match the ones sprinkled over her cheeks. “Like what? What kinds of things?” 

Like the gurgling of the rhizomatic sacks hidden underground, the trickling of a stream that could be the only usable water around for cycles, the sound of snapping twigs to signal someone’s approach.

“Screen doors, for one,” he joked, earning a laugh from her as she looked down at her feet, one hand coming up to tuck a loose piece of hair back. Ezra’s eyes followed the movement of her fingers, the way that they traced the curve of her ear, his own fingertips twitching as he did, and the same feeling that seemed to be keeping him from sleep up in his bed coursed through him again, only stronger this time. This is right, being here is- 

“Well, since you’re awake,” she looked back up and he snapped his eyes to hers. “Do you want to take a walk with me, Ezra?” Once the question was out, she’d pressed her lips together 

Absolutely. “I would like nothing more,” he answered with a grin, stooping down to tie his laces properly. 

What happened next fell into the category that Ezra could easily recall; it had also been the night that they shared their first kiss, the two of them strolling through the rows of pink grass as Ezra described a typical day on the Green. When they reached the center of the field, Clara pointed up at the sky to indicate a group of stars that made up the constellation Kevva. She told him the corresponding stories and myths she had grown up hearing about the starfaring deity that Kamrean culture was based on, and by the time she finished, bringing her eyes back down to meet his, it was impossible for either of them to stop the meeting of their lips. 

It was the string of moments leading up to that kiss though, that fell into the other grouping of memories, the ones that didn’t feel like change as they happened, their effects felt in ripples nonetheless. It was the sum of the calm he felt, the bang of the door, her invitation to join him and the way that his thick fingers notched perfectly with her thin ones that had all added up to the exact amount of weight needed to tip the scales irreversibly. Without every one of those variables, the change wouldn’t have occurred. 

He would have missed it. 

He didn’t though, and because he hadn’t, those small significant seconds had somehow led him home. Ezra had spent five years with his focus zeroed in on what he had lost, on the things he couldn’t get back. For the three days following the night that Clara had asked him to kiss her though, he reveled in those seconds and the others like them that had stacked up to what he had now. 

--  --  --  --  --  --  --  

It had been three days since Cee moved her things from the den downstairs up into the spare bedroom on the second floor. 

Her room. 

Clara had insisted that it was hers now as she helped the girl fold and put away the two bags worth of hand me downs that Runa brought over. She had even told Cee that once the harvest was over and things settled down on the farm, she would help her paint the walls so that the space felt even more her own. The first night she stayed in her new bedroom, Cee slipped the photo of her mother out from its place against the binding of her book, tucking it instead into the wood frame surrounding the mirror above the small dresser.  

In those three days, though it still seemed more like the plot of one of her stories than reality, Cee felt herself becoming more comfortable with the thought that this was where she was meant to be, that this was her home and that Ezra and Clara were her family. She didn’t view them as parents, and if she had to give a name to the relationship she wasn’t sure that she could. All she knew was that they both had made room for her in their lives when neither of them had to, and that they took up space in her heart as well. 

For three days, Cee felt herself falling into a routine. Easily. 

She found herself looking forward to spending her mornings with Ezra, bringing him a turnover or one of Clara’s freshly baked muffins, she and Abe hopping up into the window seat as he ate. He was never short on conversation topics, engaging her with questions on things ranging from her writing style to her thoughts on the Thulian harvest, even asking her if she’d given any thought to what she might want to study in school. 

“Girl like you, smart as a whip and twice as quick?” He gave a tired chuckle with a small shake of his head. “You’ll be able to do anything you fix your mind on, little bird, of that I have no doubt.”

It was the first time anyone had ever seriously asked her where her interests lay, and while prior to meeting him her inability to answer would have worried her, simply having his confidence in her seemed like a safety net, allowing her to take leaps she might otherwise not attempt. “I think…” she watched her fingertips disappear into the orange cat’s fur as he lounged on her lap and she scratched between his ears. “I think I might want to learn medicine.”

It wasn’t just the sense of accomplishment she felt when she had performed the life-saving field treatment on him that was allowing them to even have this conversation that made her think that a career as a doctor or nurse might be right for her. The memory of the nurse at the MedCenter on Central that had helped put her in touch with Clara while Ezra was still dangerously touch and go had stuck with her, the way that the kind woman had tried to help heal more than the physical ailments that had brought the two of them there making her want to be able to provide that same level of care. 

“Well, as a former patient of yours,” she had rolled her eyes at that but he continued, “I fully support the chasing of that dream.” 

She thought of how he had treated her while they were on the Green, urging her to always consider her next move. Telling him her name, she realized now, had been her move, her play, the moment that she decided to trust him and therefore the moment that started all these rolling realizations, all these big changes thrown into action just by the smallest change. One minute the man referred to her as #3, in the next, he knew her. 

They were different each morning, the things they would discuss, but after a few hours no matter what, he would need to rest. At first she was worried over the seeming increase in his fatigue levels after such a short time awake and upright, especially since the medication he was taking now was nowhere near as sedative as the patches he had worn the first few days out of the MedCenter. But he insisted that he was fine, that it was simply a side effect of climbing up and down the stairs each afternoon, of spending more time out of bed with Cee and Clara in the evenings that was making him feel a little run down. 

For three days, it was easy enough to believe that's all it was.

While Ezra rested, Cee wandered the farm, bringing her notebook out to the swing near the stream or sitting along the path that led to the fields to watch the farmhands work. She had started writing some new scenes to fill in the second book in the Streamer Girl series, adding an original character that she only realized after re-reading what she had written was clearly inspired by Clara and her selflessness. She smiled to herself upon making that connection, knowing that Ezra, when he read it, would see it too. 

As much as she found herself looking forward to spending a few hours each morning with Ezra, Cee enjoyed her time with Clara each afternoon just as much. She would head back to the house when she noticed Clara coming in from the fields, and after the woman cleaned up and changed, Cee would help her in the kitchen. Chopping vegetables or stirring things in pots, learning how to use the stovetop and a few other appliances, Cee and Clara used that time to get to know one another simply by working together and chatting. Favorite colors, funny stories, recurring dreams, advice on how to season certain dishes with traditional Kamrean spices- these served as the method for strengthening the growing bond between the woman and the girl who had fallen into her life, and if Ezra’s confidence in her was a safety net then Clara’s guidance and encouragement were a springboard. 

The part of the day that she looked forward to the most in her new home though, was when she or Clara would help Ezra down from the bedroom, the three of them sharing a meal. It was on the second of those three days when she recognized the shift in how she thought of them: from three people living together to a family, a home, something she wanted to hold onto with both hands, as tightly as she could. 

For those three days, she let herself get comfortable with the idea of comfort.

--  --  --  --  --  --  

What did I miss? 

Four days after caving and finally allowing themselves to fall back into the love that neither of them had ever left behind, Clara found herself repeating only one question. 

What did I miss?  

Had there been small changes that she hadn’t noticed? Signs that didn’t register or things she should have caught that slipped through the seams? Ezra’s initial discharge papers had told her that this was a possibility even after he completed the aggressive round of antibiotic medication, but his recovery had been relatively smooth, his spirits were high, and he had been showing more and more of his old self with each day that passed. Each time he laughed at something Cee had said, each time he looked at Clara with that same fire she saw in his eyes the first time they kissed, each time he smiled or stood without help or made a joking comment about Abe’s laziness the possibility of the infection in his chest returning seemed further and further away. 

So what did I miss? 

For three days she had slept beside him, brushed her lips to his and over his cheek, swept her fingers through his hair, reached for his hand as she felt one or both of them being pulled under into dreams. There had been no change to his breathing, no wheezing or change to the depth of his lung capacity, no cause at all for concern as she drifted off on that third night. No reason to think that she would wake to find his fever back, sweat soaking his forehead, his unruly curls, the pillowcase beneath his head. 

She had opened her eyes that morning only to be chilled to her core at the sight of him looking suddenly more sick than he had directly after coming out of sedation. His eyes were pinched tightly shut, his skin pale and clammy looking, the white scar on his cheek nearly disappearing in the pallor, and for a few heart shattering seconds, his chest appeared to be completely still. Heart pounding almost painfully against her ribs, she was afraid to take a breath herself until she saw him take a shallow one.  

Clara had moved fast then, sitting up and calling his name, imploring him to open his eyes and look at her. She reached for his face and drew her hand back immediately at the heat she felt, fresh panic setting in at the fire that had spread in his veins overnight. She called his name two more times, smoothing her palms over his cheeks, into his wet hair, pressing her lips to his brow as she whispered his name again through the tight fear clogging her throat. 

“Ezra, please,” she begged, “please open your eyes.” Don’t leave me again, Ezra, don’t… I won’t lose you again.  

He had pried them open just enough to prove that he was conscious, rasping out her name, and though it was a sign that he wasn’t too far gone to the fever, the weakness in his tone after three days of hearing him grow stronger was devastating. “Don’t… cry, Huckleberry…” he tried to assure her that he’d be alright, but it only had the opposite effect, and she immediately ran into the bathroom that was attached to the bedroom, flinging open the cabinets and pulling down the bottle of pain and fever reducer that she always kept stocked. She knew that it wasn’t prescription and that it was only a stop gap- that he would need something stronger to combat the infection that had returned or was possibly never rooted out to begin with. 

With shaking hands that knocked several of the other bottles and items over, she unscrewed the cap and tipped two of the oblong red tablets into her palm and gave them to him, urging him to take a sip of water from the glass on the nightstand. He took a small swig, sputtering slightly as he coughed, but he was able to get the medication down. Good. One thing at a- 

“Clara…” he had his eyes closed again as he spoke her name, and she saw a slight wince cross his features as he forced a swallow. Before she could try to stop him from straining himself though, he blinked his deep brown eyes open, the light in them glassy and hazy now.  “Not your fault…”  

Oh, Ezra. 

Even in the darkest times right after losing Seth, before he had stepped away from the life that they had started to build together, Ezra always did his best to carry the load, take blame or guilt from her shoulders no matter what. Even when there was no one to blame but Fate, Ezra would try to make the weight of things as light for her as he could. 

“I know, Ezra,” she leaned in to kiss the bridge of his nose, a salty tear falling from her eye to land in his beard. “But I have to call the doctors, I have to… I have to get you help, I have to-” 

“Love you… Huckleberry.” With that, he fell back into the fire of the fever before she could respond. 

Clara let out a breath that was part sob, part broken whimper as she kissed him once more and tore out of the room, heart and feet and brain pounding as she flew down the stairs to the kitchen. 

What did I miss? What did I miss? What did I- 

Forcing her fingers to comply despite the adrenaline making them shake, she punched in the three digit code that would connect her to the MedCenter there on Kamrea. Explaining everything as best as she could, she relayed the state that she found Ezra in that morning, comparing it to how he’d been the previous three days, expressing how terrified she was and asking if there was anything else that she could do. The technician on the comm line put her on a brief hold, the sound of soothing elevator music only grating on her as she waited the long, grueling seconds before the tech was back on the line to tell her that a prescription for heavy-duty antibiotics as well as a strong fever reducer would be sent to the pharmacy in town and that she should follow the instructions from the pharmacist… and that she should hurry to get him the medications because the second wave of infection in his type of injuries typically came back mutate, fortified by the patient’s complacency. 

Was that it? What she missed? Was it complacency? Blinded by the good so that the sinister could thrive in the dark? 

There was no time to contemplate it, and though it was still early, the light in the barn window just flicking on as she dialed the second number, Clara punched in the code that would connect her to Runa. The younger woman picked up, voice thick with sleep, and Clara wasted no time in telling her about Ezra’s current situation. To her credit, Runa didn’t even let Clara ask her for help, offering to pick up Ezra’s prescriptions and drive them over right away since she lived in town, close to the pharmacy. Clara knew that Runa would have offered even if she lived hours away, simply because that was the kind of person that she was, and for a brief moment she paused her thoughts to spare one of thanks to Kevva or Fate or whoever was listening for placing Runa in her life. 

The woman arrived in the driveway just shy of an hour later, Cee and Siggi both waiting for her in the kitchen as Clara stayed with Ezra to keep an eye on him. She handed the medication off, gripping Clara’s shoulder and giving a squeeze and a nod, then slipped back downstairs to help Sig keep Cee from giving into her panic too much. If that was even possible- the girl had gone nearly ghost white when she learned that Ezra was back to battling for his life, and Clara understood. 

One minute they were a family. The next it all seemed to collapse with no indication, no visible or discernable reason for the switch, just another cruel turn of the universe that they would have to adapt to. Three days of bliss, gone, or at least potentially so. 

It wasn’t until much later that evening, when the Harvest Star was already dipping back down beneath the horizon, when Runa had gone home and Sig had gone back to his quarters in the barn and Cee had fallen asleep against Clara’s shoulder in the window seat that the result of the emergency medicine made itself known. Ezra opened his eyes and when he did, they were markedly less cloudy, cutting through the dim light in the room to find Clara’s, puffy and swollen with tears. She sucked in a breath and gently eased Cee away from her body without waking her, adjusting the sleeping teen so that she leaned into the soft cushions before quietly shuffling over to the bed and climbing in beside him. 

“You scared me so much, Ezra,” she spoke in a waterlogged tone, tears streaming from her eyes again as she reached for his hand. “Are you… how do you-” 

“Clara,” he cleared his throat then but kept his eyes open and on her. “I need you to... understand one thing, alright?” She felt his thumb slide weakly over her knuckles and she nodded, another small whimper slipping out. “I have already come back from the brink once, my Huckleberry.” He had to pause to take a breath, again coughing to clear his throat before continuing. “A feat that I never… dreamed that I would have to…” He screwed his eyelids tight for a second then as a shock of pain flashed across his face, but he never let go of her hand and she knew better than to interrupt him. “Clara, I have come back to you, from the edge of existence and it...it nearly killed me.” 

“I know,” she felt her heart twist and fold in on itself as she thought again about how close he’d come to not being here. “I know, Ezra, and I-” 

“I won’t let it, Clara.” Mustering all of his strength to keep his eyes clear as he spoke, he gave a slight tug on her hand to pull her close enough to lay his lips, still warm from the declining fever, to her temple. “I won’t let anything keep me from fighting my way back to you. Never again.” 

Though she may have missed the exact point in time when his temperature had peaked, when the wound between his ribs grew warm and red, when the shine in his eyes started to dim, she recognized the moment that they were in for what it was- it was Ezra staking a claim on what was his, theirs. He was promising her that there was no amount of hell too harsh for him to walk through so long as the road brought him back to her. 

In that moment, their love became stronger than anything that could tear it apart, even if his full recovery was in question once more.

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[noladyme]

La Cuervo - Chapter 21

She is used to the biker-life, having grown into a woman in the familiar embrace of SAMCRO. A bad decision and a gun-shot later, she gets whisked off to Santo Padre, and put under the protection of another club. What is supposed to be a short stint in the Mayan headquarters just north of the border to Mexico, turns into something more; when la quervo begins to develop feelings for el angel - and he seems to return them in kind...

TW: violence, blood, drug use, alcohol, smut, fluff, angst

In the spirit of "The Crown Princess of Charming", this is a story about O.C. Nina and Angel Reyes. It is obviously non-canon, as characters who have passed on, on Mayans M.C., are present in it, and others have been excluded completely. Nina is written as a cis-female, but I have tried to keep her race and looks as ambigous as possible. Should you find any of this story offensive, please let me know.

21.

“The bullet only graced her leg; but the wound was still deep enough for her to need crutches for a little while. Do you know of any pre-existing medical conditions?”. The doctor was explaining Nina’s condition to Angel. Nina was annoyed at how he seemed to think the curtain separating him and Angel from her and the other patients, was a wall; that would keep their conversation private. “She’s got asthma”, Angel replied. He sounded tired and angry. “That shouldn’t come in the way of her recovering fully… Not physically at least”. “What do you mean?”. “She is in chock. What she just went through did a number on her”, the doctor said. “We offered her a sedative, but she wouldn’t let us come near her with the needle. The nurse had to hold her down for me to apply the local anesthetic, to stitch her up; and she refused to let us do any blood tests, before we swore you were just outside”.

Nina shifted in the bed. Her leg was burning with pain, and all she wanted was to be far away from where she was. “You should have let me in there with her!”, Angel growled. He was clearly unhappy with Nina being prodded with needles against her will. “It’s against protocol…”. “Fuck protocol!”, Angel exclaimed. “And what fucking blood tests?”. “Sir; there are other patients here! You need to keep it down…”, the doctor said. “What blood tests?”, Angel demanded. “The woman who shot herself bit her. We’re checking for hepatitis B and C, and rabies…”. “Rabies? She’s not a fucking dog!”, Angel almost roared. “Just let me see her…”.

He opened the curtain, and met Nina’s eyes; trying for a warm smile, and failing miserably. “Hey mami… Have you been giving the doc a hard time?”. He came over to take her hand, and kissed the top of her head; before looking her over. “Why haven’t you cleaned her up?”, he asked the doctor. Nina was wearing a hospital gown, having been wrestled out of her own clothes, for the police to put it into evidence bags. She was still covered in blood-specks everywhere but her stitched and bandaged calf, and the around the bite wound on her arm; which had been covered by a band-aid. The doctor sighed defeatedly. “Look, I have about fifty sick and wounded people to tend to within the next thirty minutes; and my nurses are short staffed”, he said, and edge to his voice. “We have to help those who need us the most; and we can’t spend time washing down a patient who won’t cooperate”.

Nina tightened her hold on Angel’s hand. “I wanna go home”, she whispered. The doctor looked at her, as if startled that she could in fact speak. “Miss Teller, you should stay the…”. “Angel, take me home!”, Nina demanded. Angel nodded at her; letting the furrow between his brows speak for him. He put an arm behind her back, to help her sit, and grabbed her shoes from a bag on the floor.

“Mr. Reyes; Nina needs the care we can provide for her here”, the doctor said. “She’s not staying in this shithole. You wouldn’t even give her a private room”, Angel growled, and helped Nina put on her shoes. He let his hand hover over the bandage on her leg for a second. “We’re out”. “What about after care? Pain medication?”. “I know how to deal with bullet-wounds”, Angel said. The doctor gave him a displeased once over. “I’m sure you do…”, he grunted. He sighed defeatedly. “Ok… But I’m going to need you to sign some discharge papers, Miss Teller; stating you’re leaving against my recommendations”. Angel wrapped the blanket from the bed around Nina, to cover her naked backside. His movements were gentle but brusque. “Leave it by the desk. We’ll handle it”, he said, and put his arm around Nina’s waist. “Let’s go…”. The doctor rushed away to get the paperwork ready, and Angel half supported, half carried Nina out into the hallway.

It looked like the entire charter of Mayans were gathered by the front desk. Nina didn’t have the energy to speak, and focused on not supporting her weight on her pained leg. “How are you, mija?”, Bishop asked. Angel shook his head. “They can’t do shit here… The doc stitched her up, but that’s pretty much it”, he said. “That fucking bitch could have killed her!”. “Don’t…”, Nina croaked. He looked down at her, and his expression softened. “I’m sorry, cuervo”, he muttered, and led her to sit down in a chair. A nurse came over with a clipboard of papers, and pointed at the places Nina needed to sign. With shaking hands, she scribbled some intelligible doodles; and handed the board back. “Come back if you experience any unexpected pain”, the nurse said. “What, from her gun-wound?”, Gilly asked with a raised brow. The nurse scuttered off with a displeased look on her face.

“I’ve got the van outside”, EZ said, and looked at Nina with a worried expression. “But are you sure…?”. “I want to go home…”, Nina said bellow her breath. “Please”. Angel ran a hand through his hair, and shook his head. “The fucking exterminator… We can’t go back to ours until tonight”, he groaned. “The clubhouse is crawling with cops”, Gilly said. “Take her to mine. We got you, niña”, Coco said, and he and Angel got on either side of her; to help her get to her feet. More or less carrying her outside, the two men got her out to the van, and into the middle passenger seat. They flanked her, with Coco behind the wheel, and Angel letting Nina rest against him. She heard the other Mayans start up their bikes behind the van, and they drove away from the hospital. Looking out of the van’s windows, she noticed Hank and Taza drove up alongside them, and Bishop went up to front the caravan. They were in protection mode.

---

The Mayans were gathered on the small porch outside Coco’s house. Nina could hear them muttering and arguing quietly, as she sat holding her mug of steaming instant coffee. “Fuck! What the fuck are we going to do? We don’t have a switch!”, Bishop growled. “Keep it down, Bish’. She’s right inside”, Taza grumbled. “At least she took out our rat”, Riz said. “She didn’t kill her… Camille killed herself”, Taza said. “Fucking bitch…”, Creeper grunted. A muttering of agreements was heard.

Nina took a sip of the coffee, and picked at her broken nail. The pain from it, the bite, and the gun wound on her leg distracted her from the visions she was seeing every time she closed her eyes. She’d killed another person; no matter what Taza said. If she hadn’t twisted Camille’s wrist, and the shot hadn’t hit her head, she would still be alive. And Nina would have been dead.

Letty walked quietly through the living room, shooting Nina a wary look, before opening the screen door. “Angel. I filled the tub”, she muttered. She heard Angel grunt a reply of thanks, before he came inside with Coco at his heels. “I’m gonna clean her up”, Angel muttered, and went over to help Nina up. “Come on, mami”. Coco led Letty down the hall, and muttered something about her going to stay at Gabby’s for the night. He was worried; all the Mayans were worried. With no snitch to hand over to Palo, they most likely had a war on their hands.

Angel supported Nina into the bathroom, set her down on the toilet lid, and closed the door behind them. Almost unable to move herself, Nina let Angel untie the strings of the hospital gown, and pull it off her. Letty had left a bundle of clothes by the sink for her. It looked like a mix of her own and Coco’s; as she probably didn’t know what would fit Nina. Once she was naked, Angel carefully helped Nina into the tub; with her leg hanging over the edge, to not get the bandage wet. He cupped some water in his hand, and began washing her gingerly. For a long while, they didn’t speak; neither of them able to find the words for what had just happened. Nina knew that Angel had probably taken a few lives himself – it came with the territory – but she wasn’t a killer. At least she wasn’t supposed to be.

She closed her eyes, and leaned back in the tub, emerging herself in the water. The water filled her ears, and the world went silent for a few seconds. Closing her eyes, Nina tried to let calm fall over her. The water was warm, and Angel’s soothing strokes down her arms, made her drift into something resembling peacefulness. Her foot knocked over a shampoo bottle, and it fell into the tub with a clanking noise, that sounded like am explosion in Nina’s ears. It all came back again. The gunshot. Camille’s eyes. Gael’s eyes. The red mist of blood and brain matter. Death. It felt like arms were trying to hold her down – drowning her – and she let out a scream under the water; frantically grabbing for anything to get back to the surface.

Angel’s strong arms wrapped around her, and quickly pulled her out of the water; and onto the floor, where she sat shaking in his arms. “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to… please…”, she coughed and sobbed. Angel held her tight, and rocked her back and forth. “You’re ok… No one is gonna hurt you". “No, because I killed them… Everything I touch, dies”. “That’s not true…”. “Gael… Daniella… Camille… Jax…”. Her stomach was hurting from the muscles contorting as she sobbed. “You didn’t kill your brother, Nina…”, Angel said, burying his fingers in her hair. “Maybe if I’d done something…”.

With both hands on either side of her head, Angel made Nina look at him. “You didn’t do anything wrong…! You just survived”. He grabbed a towel, and began gently drying her off. After a while, he sighed. “I’m so sorry, querida. This was on us… on me”, he said. Nina met his eyes for a nanosecond, afraid to see her own reflection in them. “No. I killed her…”, she breathed. “I’ve murdered two people”. “No… No, cuervo”, Angel said. “You protected yourself from a monster, and you forced the hand on a crazy bitch, who was about to get herself killed anyway… You did nothing wrong”. “Then why do I feel like I deserve as much as I gave?”, Nina rasped. Angel cupped her face, and made her look at him. “Because you’re too good for this fucked up world”, he said. He put his forehead against hers for a second, before hissing her temple. “Te amo… so fucking much. If she’d taken you away from me…”. He seemed unable to finish the sentence, and simply held her close for a few more moments, before getting to his feet, and pulling the plug in the tub.

“It's time to end this shit. Were going to war with VM”, he grunted. Nina’s heart fell to her stomach, and she tried to stand; but slipped, and fell into Angel’s arms. “Don’t! Palo will kill you!”, Nina exclaimed, tears returning to her eyes. Angel wrapped his arms protectively around her, letting her lean on him. “This isn’t just about you, querida… We…”. “I don’t care! Please, Angel. I can’t lose you…”, Nina sobbed. Someone knocked on the door. “You ok in there?”, Coco asked. “We’re good. Be out in a minute”, Angel replied, before pressing his lips to Nina’s. “We have to finish this”. Unable to respond, Nina simply let him dress her in a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. She was shaking, and tears continuously streamed from her eyes. Angel wiped her cheeks, and pressed a soft kiss to her lips. “Come on”.

With her arm around Angel’s waist, she limped back into the living room. All the chairs in the house had been gathered in there, and the Mayans were seated down on them; making the room a makeshift templo. EZ hovered by the door, keeping his eyes on the street outside. He looked over his shoulder for a second, locking eyes with Nina. His gaze told her he wanted to say something, comfort her somehow, but now wasn’t the time. Angel led Nina back to the couch, to sit next to Coco. She let out a tiny yelp in pain, as her leg brushed against the coffee table, and Coco picked up a joint he’d apparently just rolled, and handed it to her. “For the pain, ma’”, he muttered, and lit it, as she put it to her lips. Taking a deep drag from the blunt, Nina instantly felt the dulling sensation of the marijuana stream through her body. Angel sat down next to her, and took her hand.

“First of all…”, Bishop began. “Nina, I’m sorry. From what I understand, what Camille did to you, didn’t have anything to do with you situation with Palo. We let her into our inner circle, and she… fuck… We let you get hurt”. “That’s not on you…”, Nina muttered. “Yes, it is", Bishop said. “I broke my promise that we’d keep you safe. We owe you". The rest of the Mayans nodded solemnly. “I… ok", Nina said quietly.

The president sat up straight in his seat, and lit a cigarette. “Ok… Let’s start with the good news”, he said. “Our rat is dead”. Nina had to swallow thickly, in spite of the cloud of calm the joint had left in her head. “Bad news is, we don’t have a switch”, Taza said. “And we don’t have anything to hold over Palo’s head”, Hank muttered. Taza looked at Nina. Their conversation about his secret returned to her, and she frowned at him just enough to let him know she still wanted him to keep quiet. “Let me talk to him”, Nina said. “He wants me; maybe I can…”. “No”, Angel said. Nina scowled at him for cutting her off. “I don’t want you getting killed over me! Just let me see him, and I’ll… I don’t know, apologize, or offer him a deal like I did with you”. Angel gave her a hard look. “You’re not going anywhere!”, he growled, and looked around at his brothers. “Even if Nina wasn’t here, Palo’s already fucked us over enough for us to go head-to-head with the Vato’s”, he said. “I agree”, Bishop said with a nod. “Bishop! Don’t do this!”, Nina exclaimed. “She’s got a point…”, Hank muttered. “Listen to the woman, Bishop. War doesn’t have to…”, Riz began. Bishop shook his head. “I’m done kissing Palo’s ass. Nina’s out of the equation from here on out. It’s war”. Angel nodded fervently. “War!”.

Nina took a final deep draw from the blunt. “I guess you don’t need me here, then”, she sneered, and got to her feet. “I’m gonna go sleep for about a hundred years; and if your dumb asses are still alive when I wake up, then yay… But I’m not holding my breath”. Bishop looked angrily at her. “I’m gonna chose to believe that’s the pain and the blunt talking”, he growled. “Shove it up your ass”, Nina sneered. “Coco, do you mind?”. “Letty’s room is down the hall to the right”, Coco muttered. “Follow the smell of hairspray”. Nina wanted to storm dramatically out of the room, but her wounded leg wouldn’t hold her weight, and she stumbled. Angel caught her, but she shrugged him off. Taza got up, and walked over to take her arm. “Come on, kid”, he said quietly, and led her down the short hallway, into the teenager’s room.

Nina sat down on the bed, and went to lean against the headboard. She wiped away a few stray tears. “I’m good. Thanks”, she said. Taza sat down on the edge of the bed. “You’re not… You’ve had too much happen to you to be ok”, he said. “And now, the man you love is walking into what will probably be certain death”. His words broke the fragile strings holding Nina together, and once again, she began sobbing. “I don’t want that… I don’t want any of you to get hurt for me!”. Taza scooted closer, and pulled her into his arms for a moment, before pulling back. “Nina, I love you; but you’re thinking a little too much about yourself at the moment”, he said. “Any one of those men out there would throw themselves in front of a moving car for you; but this war isn’t about your situation with Palo. They want war”. “Why?”, Nina croaked, and wiped her eyes. “Bishop and Angel are right. Palo’s overstepped our boundaries in more ways than one; and he needs to pay”. “So you’re behind this? You want war as well?”, Nina asked. Taza sighed. “No… I’ve seen Palo at his worst before… He’s a nightmare”, he said. “He’s not going to stop until every Mayan in the charter is dead, and then he’ll move on north; try to take out Oakland”. “Is Vatos Malditos really that strong a club?”. “They don’t fear death… And that makes them dangerous”.

They sat for a moment in silence, before Taza spoke again. “We know what needs to happen”. Nina’s eyes widened. “No, Taza; please!”. “I can finish this before it starts”, Taza said. “And I want to”. “What if they…?”. “I’m tired, sweetheart”. The VP squeezed her hand. “Every day I’m not being honest about who I am, I feel like I’m betraying both myself the man I loved”. Nina swallowed thickly. “You want to come out to the club”, she whispered. Taza nodded. “I’m afraid to… but by doing it now, I can avoid the people I love being killed in an unnecessary war. I have to”.

Nina took a deep breath, and then blew it out. The haze of the joint was already wearing off from the seriousness of the situation. “Do you want me to come with you?”, she asked. Taza smiled, and stroked her cheek. “No��� This is something I have to do on my own”. He kissed her forehead, and got to his feet. “Whatever happens, just know that I think you’re one of the best things that has ever happened to this club”. Nina tried for a warm smile. “I love you, Taza”, she said. He winked at her, and left the room; closing the door behind him.

She laid back on the bed, letting herself accept the situation. A murmur of voices from the living room broke the silence. On one hand, she was happy she couldn’t clearly hear what was going on; on the other, she wanted to jump out of bed, and run after Taza – if only her leg would have carried her. She heard Taza speaking calmly, before being interrupted by Bishop; his voice a little more gruff. Taza continued speaking, before a group of voices rose. “You’re fucking kidding me!”, she heard Riz exclaim. Taza spoke again, being interrupted by Creeper’s voice. “… keep this from us?”, was all she could hear, before Angel cut him off. “… Nina in on this?”. Taza muttered something more, when Bishop growled. “… done!”. The president’s voice was cold. Taza spoke again, and then the door opened and closed. Nina heard a bike start up, and drive away.

She turned her back to the door, and fell back into tears. She didn’t know how long she cried, but in the end, she fell asleep.

---

When she woke, it was dark outside. The door to the hallway was slightly open, and a set of crutches were leaning against the wall by the bed. Nina sat up, and grabbed the crutches to get to her feet; before hobbling into the hallway, and went towards the living room. Coco was seated on the couch with a dazed expression, probably only partlydue to the blunt he was halfway through. Nina sat down on one of the empty chairs, and he handed her the joint. “How’s the pain?”, he asked. Nina took a huff of the blunt. “Better”, she said, unable to avoid chuckling, as the smoke left her lips again. Coco smiled at her. “Where is everyone?”. “Bish’, Riz and Hank are at the clubhouse; cleaning up after the cops. They brought the boy scout”. “Then I know who’s really doing the clean-up”, Nina said, and rolled her eyes. “Yeah… Angel’s grabbing food, and Gilly and Creeper went to Vicky’s”, Coco said. “Said they needed it”. Nina clenched her jaw, and braced herself. “Taza?”, she croaked. Coco reached for the blunt, and took a huff himself. “He left after he told us… Shit, I never knew”. “Are you going to… What are you going to do to him?”. Taking a last draw from the joint, Coco put it in the ashtray, to let it smolder. “I don’t know… We never had to deal with anything like this before”, he said. “What do you think should happen?”, Nina asked. Coco shrugged. “Taza’s a good VP. He kept a secret, but he hasn’t hurt anyone, or done something against our rules”. “He broke one rule”, Nina muttered. “It’s a fucked-up rule”, Coco grunted. Nina let a smile ghost her lips. “Taza can ride, and he can make decisions… That’s what I care about”.

Angel pulled up outside the house, and came in, carrying a large paper bag. He gave Nina a short smile. “You get some sleep?”, he asked. “Yeah… some”, she said. “I got burgers…”, Angel said, and put down the bag on the coffee table. “I went by the house, and opened the windows; but it still smells like shit in there”. “Letty’s out. Stay the night”, Coco said, and went to get beers from the fridge.

Angel sat down on the couch, and began unpacking the food. Realizing she hadn’t eaten all day, Nina’s stomach made an angry growl of hunger. “Woah…”, Angel said, and looked down at the blunt in the ashtray. “Munchies?”. “A little”, Nina admitted. “Are you ok?”. “Why wouldn’t I be?”, Angel asked. “Just… Everything that happened today, I guess…”, Nina began, before sighing, and shrugging. “What? You mean the part where my girl yelled at me, and then got shot?”, Angel said. “Or the part where I find out she’s been keeping secrets…”. He raised a brow at her, and Nina felt her cheeks burning. “It wasn’t my secret to share”, she muttered. “If you’re gonna fight, do it later”, Coco said, returning with three beers, and handing them out. “I’m hungry”.

They ate in silence, before Coco called it a night, and went to bed; tired as fuck, as he declared. Angel and Nina sat for a few moments more, avoiding each other’s gaze. “I couldn’t tell you…”, Nina finally said. “No, I get it”, Angel sighed. “It’s just… You kept this secret, that could have saved your life. And you didn’t let me help”. “That’s what you’re angry about?”. “I’m not angry, querida… I just wish you’d let me protect you”. “By hurting Taza?”, Nina asked. “I would have had his back!”, Angel said. “I knew that… At least I think I knew”. Nina shook her head defeatedly. “But if the rest of the club decides to punish him, you can’t stop that!”. Angel took the last sip of his beer, and began clearing the table. “We’re not letting that happen”, he muttered. “Who?”, Nina asked. “Me… Coco and Gilly… you”. He gave her a warm smile, and went to throw away the trash.

Nina got to her feet, and with the help of her crutches, she followed him into the kitchen. “How did everyone else take it?”, she asked, leaning against the doorway. “Riz and Creep are pissed Taza didn’t tell the club a secret that could save us from war. Tranq is… Tranq. He doesn’t let anyone know what he feels until he’s sure about it himself. And Bish’… I can’t read the man”. “But you’re behind Taza…”. “Yeah”. He came over, and gave her a short kiss. “Thank you”, Nina said. “For what?”, Angel asked. “For being… you”, she smiled.

Letting Nina support her weight against him, Angel led Nina back into Letty’s bedroom; carrying her crutches for her. She winced a bit, when she accidentally stepped down on her bad leg, and Angel frowned. He closed the door, and helped her get in to bed, before shedding his cut, and climbing in with her. “You gonna sleep in your jeans?”, Nina asked. “If I take them off, you’ll just start getting ideas…”, Angel smirked. “I got shot today, just before being drenched in another woman’s blood… And, we’re lying in a bed under a poster of Zac Effron. I think I can gird my loins”, Nina said with a scowl. “Maybe I can’t”, Angel whispered, and pulled her into his arms. He accidentally bumped against her leg, and Nina let out a small yelp. “Fuck. Are you ok? I’m so sorry!”, Angel exclaimed. “I’m ok…”, Nina whimpered. “Just don’t touch it”. “I’ll get you some drugs tomorrow. The good kind”, Angel promised. Nina chuckled, and pressed a kiss to his lips.

Thinking about the day after, she suddenly frowned. “What’s wrong, cuervo?”, Angel asked. “Tomorrow… What’s gonna happen?”, Nina said. “Clubwide lockdown…”, Angel sighed. “I’m taking you back to the house in the morning, to get your stuff. Coco’s gonna go with us, as an extra gun; but after that it’s back to the clubhouse”. “And then what?”. She felt herself starting to shiver, and Angel gingerly pulled her closer. “We called in backup. Bishop met with Alvarez today; and Oakland is coming down to back us up if needed”. “SAMCRO?”, Nina whispered. “What do you think?”, Angel smiled. “SAMDINO too… Don’t run away with Packer”. She pinched the skin of his arm playfully. “Ow!”. “So you’ll have the numbers… You might not even have to use Taza’s secret”, Nina said; ignoring his exclamation of pain. “We don’t know Palo’s numbers yet… VM has grown since Taza’s day”, Angel said. “We gotta be ready for a fight”.

Nina sighed, and put an arm across Angel’s chest; burrowing against him. “After this morning… I’m so sorry I got so angry…”. “Nah, I had it coming", Angel said. “I said some stupid shit… That could have been the last thing I ever said, before I lost you…”. “I did leave you; I fucked up so bad…”. “We’re past that, querida. I shouldn’t have brought it up…”. Angel brushed his thumb over her cheekbone. “But you were right. I should have found a better way… And now you’re going up against Palo, and you might not make it…”. “Nina…” Nina continued, unable to control her panicked breathing. “I’m gonna lose you! He’s not gonna stop until you’re all…”. “Nina, stop!”, Angel said. Nina felt her lungs beginning to close up, and she took a few heaving breaths. Her anxiety worsened, when she realized she didn’t have her inhaler. Angel dug it out of his own pocket, and pressed the button on the top, before holding it to her lips. Breathing in the powder, Nina felt her breathing return to normal, and Angel put away her inhaler again. “You have to relax, ma'. You’ve been through too much today". Wiping her eyes for her, he kissed her forehead. “I can’t lose you…”, she whispered. Angel looked deep into her eyes. “I’m gonna do whatever I have to, to get back to you”, he said, and kissed the top of her head. “I love you”. “I love you too”.

Tilting her head, Nina sought out Angel’s lips, and breathed him in, in a deep kiss. Angel carefully lifted her knee, to let her leg rest over his. She craved his closeness, needed him near her, more than ever; for fear that it would be the last night she’d get to sleep in his arms. Angel soothingly brushed his fingers up and down her lower arm. “I can’t deal with any more death…”, Nina said. Suddenly, without even knowing it herself, she’d made a decision. “I want to see Palo”. Angel’s eyes widened. “No, Nina. That’s not happening…”, he said, and went back to stroking her arm; though a bit more roughly than was comfortable. Nina pulled herself away from his grasp. “I can’t run away from what I did”, she said. “So, you’re going to let Palo punish you? Kill you?”, Angel asked. “No, I’m… You’re right. I haven’t done anything wrong; I’m not looking to be punished for anything”, Nina said. “But I can’t let anyone else die on my account. Not again”. "It's like we said. This isn't about you anymore". "But if I hadn't been here...", Nina tried. Angel sighed. “Get some sleep”, he said. “But…”. He looked at her intently. “Sleep. You’re in pain and you’re high. You’re not thinking straight. You’ll have a clearer head tomorrow”. He brushed his lips against her cheek, and closed his eyes.

To Angel, the conversation was over. To Nina, nothing was settled; and it took a long time, before exhaustion finally forced her to drift off.

---

[rebelmalewife]

SAGE 2021 HAS COME, FOLKS! MY BRAINROT IS INTENSIFIED BY ALL THE SHOWCASE OF THE FAN PRODUCED ENGINES AND CONTENTS BY EVERYONE AT THE EXPO! ALONG WITH WHAT YOU BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE HAVE POSTED REGARDING ALL OF MIHOYO’S NEW CONTENT AND HOW HYPED YOU ARE! I UNFORTUNATELY, CANNOT PLAY GENSHIN AT THIS CURRENT TIME (8/26/2021) DUE TO HARDWARE LIMITATIONS, BUT I WANT TO SPREAD MY OWN BRAINROT AROUND THE DASH! SO HERE’S THE FIRST SERVING OF IT: A BOSS REDESIGN!

A reminder of my rules and regulations! This takes place in my traveler replaced verse! As well as that, I:

WON’T BE CHANGING ANY BOSS DESIGNS FOR PULLABLE CHARACTERS! IF THEY’RE A PULLABLE CHARACTER AND HAVE A BOSS BATTLE, I’LL MORE LIKELY THEN NOT WRITE A THREAD WITH A CERTAIN MAIN OR MUTUAL. THAT WAY, I CAN USE THAT THREAD AS REFERENCE FOR HOW THE BOSS FIGHT OCCURS IN THE TRAVELER REPLACED VERSE.

IT’S EXCLUSIVE TO THIS VERSE BECAUSE I DON’T WANT TO ERASE ANY OF AETHER/LUMINE’S HARDWORK! I JUST WANNA DO A TAKE BASED ON IT! SO IT’S SET IN MY VERSE WHERE SONIC REPLACES THEM. THAT WAY, MAYBE I CAN DO TRAVELER THREADS WHERE EVERYONE SHARES THEIR SIMILAR EXPERIENCES!

With all that out of the way! Let’s dive in! The whole boss fight, including design, mechanics, interactions, and unlockable rewards, and ost’s is under the cut.

FATUI MIRROR MAIDEN NUMBER OF PHASES: 2 BOSS BATTLE MUSIC: X

OPENING CUTSCENE

This battle is apart of a homebrewed quest featuring the duckling squad! As such, The Player finds out about it mid quest and speeds off to assist. As The Duckling Squad, lead by Sonic, arrive at the scene of a Fatui ambush, witnessing Diluc and Kaeya holding their ground with a few downed Knights at their side, Sonic and Paimon notice that the only person giving them trouble is a Fatui Mirror Maiden, which seems more then enough for the Knights capabilities, right? Wrong.

Sonic immediately notices the gem in her hands. “That’s-!” Paimon starts. “A chaos emerald! She’s powered up and more off her rocker then usual fatui!” Sonic diagnoses before spinning. “Aight, kids! Chill out here! I gotta handle this on my own!” But before he speeds off, Klee hands him a Jumpy Dumpty. He knows he’ll need that. 

As The Mirror Maiden prepares for her final attack against the Ice and Fire brothers, a jumpty dumpty hits her square in the face. Using her energy alone too clear the smoke, she’s not quick enough to stop a kick that sends her spinning through the air. Sonic lands just a few feet before Diluc and Kaeya. 

“Chill out, guys! I’ll take it from here!”

THE BOSS BATTLE *Cosmetic Change- This is Sonic’s DEFAULT DESIGN. However, in the Genshin verse, he has a BLUE AND RED SINGLE STRAP BAG. In all giant animal boss battles that require sonic to run at high speeds, a visual change is made to Sonic’s model. Paimon is situated in his bag..! Showing off surprise and fear at Sonic’s antics.

OPENING PRE-BATTLE DIALOUGE

MM: Foolish mortal! Your insolence will be punished by my swift and divine retribution! SONIC: Geez... Shakespeare in the park much? PAIMON: Man! Normal Mirror Maidens are a pain! But this one’s fired up on a chaos emerald! We gotta be careful!

Just like the Dvalin fight, This is an infinite track fight. However, Mirror Maiden never falls behind Sonic and will always remain in front. For her first phase, the boss battle will remain entirely 3D, with attacks being sent to the middle, left, and right lanes that the player will side step to avoid. Each attack is quicker then the last and some can cover two lanes at once, so watch for start up animations and try to account for attack patterns! 

Phase one of The Mirror Maiden fight is pretty straightforward. Dodge her powered up waterwheels, which fall from the sky after a firing animation. They fire randomly and MM fires more then just three, but they’re slow enough to avoid, just don’t get overwhelmed by the amount she fires and you should be good. Sonic’s sidesteps are quick and almost instant, but don’t get cocky. 

Her secondary attack is a stream of hydro bullets that require you to switch lanes, as she fires them so quick and upward that they act pretty much like beams. They’re easy to dodge, but she can use both hands to fire more then once. Just be on your guard.

Eventually, she’ll open herself up for a homing attack. You need to hit her three times. Each homing attack hit will cause her attack animations to speed up and their duration to lengthen. She’ll get pretty quick after the second hit so just stay on your toes and remember the sidestep. Don’t bother using boost here, she keeps up with you for the whole section of this phase so you’ll just be wasting boost energy.

After Three Hits, Mirror Maiden will go into Phase 2 of the Boss battle.

PHASE 2 BOSS DIALOGUE

MM: YOU INSOLENT! LITTLE!! RODENT!!! Her Majesty’s power will guide me!! Divine power!! Lend me all you have!! PAIMON: Ahh!! She powered up!! SONIC: No doubt siphoning energy from the emerald!! Dang!! This just got more tricky.

Mirror Maiden’s second phase has her drawing energy from the Chaos Emerald she has in her possession. So her attacks will be more powerful and she’ll have a wider arsenal to draw from. Along with that, she can use Chaos Control, which adds two more sections to the boss fight. Occasionally, Mirror Maiden will use Chaos Control to send attacks from the air, which will switch the camera to a birds eye view. Or, she’ll warp to the side of the track and force the camera into a 2D perspective. She’ll use attacks that are new and unique to those perspectives along with what she threw at you in the first phase. Be on your toes and ready for anything.

After a faster and longer version of her first wave of phase attacks, you’ll be prompted to hit her with a homing attack again. Your window will be shorter then phase one. Phase one gave a seven second window opportunity. Phase two gives you four seconds. If you don’t hit her in time, she’ll use chaos control to switch too a different camera perspective attack phase. After witnessing Chaos Control, this can prompt dialogue from Sonic & Paimon.

PAIMON: Her teleportation looks a bit different! She’s not using mirrors. SONIC: It’s Chaos Control. I’ll give her one thing, she learns quick! MM: I will freeze you to death, scum!

In the 2D phase, you no longer possess the ability to switch lanes. Mirror Maiden will create glass cages that rise up from under you. If you get trapped in them, she’ll have waterwheels fall into the glass cage, dealing incredibly high damage. It’s easy to avoid the Glass Cages though. They have a slow start up animation where you can see Mirror Maiden creating them under the player. Just move forward or backward from under them and don’t get caught when Mirror Maiden has them rise up. 

After that, she’ll switch back to the 3D Section like Phase One, and after a string of attacks, you’ll get another opportunity to hit her. After hitting her, she’ll guarantee switch to either the 2D attack phase, or the birds eye attack phase. In the Birdseye attack phase, the player gets full rotational movement. Along with spawning glass cages that the player can get caught in, dealing damage, Mirror Maiden will also have hydro bullets rain from the sky. You get small windows of room to avoid damage. Just keep out of the way of her cages and bullets and after a few attacks, she’ll move back too the front of the player.

After three hits between attack phases, the boss battle is over and you’re treated to a cutscene where Sonic kicks the emerald from out of her hands and lands behind her, catching it. When the Maiden falls from the sky and onto the track, Diluc and Kaeya use their regained strength from their short rest to finish her off. The Player then recieves their ranking score screen.

[ilovefandoms102]

Part 30

Summary: The hunt for the gold isn’t over yet....

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AU:Part 24 Part 25  Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29 Part 31

Note: I feel like my last part was super shitty so I hope this part makes up for it! Also I’m not sure if my taglist is working again so if you are supposed to be in the taglist please let me know if it isn’t working!

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I was sat on the bed sheet I brought to the beach, pouting as everyone was in the ocean. I forgot that I had nonwaterproof stitches up my calf, meaning I had to sit out while everyone else got to have fun.  And my arm still kind of hurt, but I wouldn’t tell them that. Of course JJ had offered to sit out with me, but I knew he needed this. He had been through a lot the past few weeks, surfing was a big part of JJ’s life. He was amazing at it, I loved watching him glide effortlessly on the waves. 

====================================

“I’m getting in.” I huffed, slamming my board in the sand. 

“The fuck you are! Your arm is jacked up and not to mention you have a million stitches in your leg!” My brother yelled, JJ nodding in agreement. 

“I’m with JB on this one sweets, what if your arm gets locked up and you drown?” he frowned.

“I’m fine! I want to get in!” I whined.

“I’ll sit with you if you want me to baby,” JJ said, poking my lip that was pouting.

“No....you’re right, I should watch my arm.” I grumbled, sitting on the bed sheet with a huff.

“I love you sweetheart,” JJ smiled, bending down to kiss me. I was still a little mad, so I didn’t put much effort into kissing him back. I know I shouldn’t be mad, but I couldn’t help be disappointed.

=====================================

“John B. and JJ should open up a surf shop, I think they’d make a lot of money from it.” Sarah said from beside me.

“That’s actually not a bad idea Sarah.” I smiled at her.

I stared at my surf board next to me. I was dying to get in the water, but I didn’t want to fuck up my leg again. I mean, what was the worst that could happen? 

You know what, fuck it. You only live once, and I want to ride some waves.

“What are you doing?” Sarah asked, staring as I took off my bandage.

“I’m getting in,” I muttered, getting the last parts of the gauze off. I stuffed it into a plastic bag that I used for trash. I threw my sling into my bag as well, stretching my arm a little. 

“But your leg-” Sarah panicked, starting to get up with me.

“Sarah chill, I will be fine.” I said, patting her shoulder. 

“Your brother and JJ are going to kill you.” she said, raising her brows at me. I shrugged my shoulder, turning to head out into the ocean. 

I went a little farther down than they were, I didn’t want them to catch me right away. I knew JJ would flip out on me once he saw what I was up to. No doubt my brother would too, and he would more than likely drag me out of the ocean kicking and screaming. I sighed in relief when my feet came in contact with the ocean water, taking a big gulp of the salty ocean air. I went out further, testing to see if my leg could take the water. It stung a little at first, but I decided to ignore the pain. 

I dove into the first wave I came in contact with, the water feeling refreshing over my aching body. I paddled out farther, going towards the bigger waves, turning around to catch the next one that was coming. I stood up as the wave came to its peak, gliding with the wave on my board. It felt so good, the adrenaline rush of moving with the wave. 

I’m not sure how long I was out there for, but my leg was starting to cramp. I didn’t want to push it more than I already was. And my arm was starting to give out on me when I would push myself up, so that’s when I knew I had enough for today. When I made my way to shore, I gulped. A very angry looking JJ stood at the edge of where the sand met the water. I became more anxious the closer I got to him, knowing I was about to get chewed out by my very protective boyfriend. My arm started throbbing the more I paddled, starting to lock up on me. JJ noticed and started towards me.

“Are you insane?!” He yelled as soon as I was in hearing distance. 

“Babe-” I sighed.

“Do you have no regard for your safety?” he asked angrily, snatching my board to pull me out of the waves.

“Oh my god JJ I have a cut on my leg, and I hurt my arm. It’s not like they were going to fall off if I got in.” I said, letting an irritated sigh past my lip. My arm wouldn’t cooperate with me, it still being locked to where I could barely move it.

“Why do you have to be so fucking stubborn! You could have been knocked out by the waves and accidentally drowned!” he yelled, his expression of pure anger. 

“I’m fine,” I grunted as I was limping from the severe pain my leg was in.

“I’m so mad at you right now,” he shook his head at me, snatching my board from me so he could carry it.

“There’s no reason for you to be mad at me JJ!” I shouted, trying to walk faster to get away from him. 

“You can’t just surf like that after an injury! You have to give yourself time to heal honey.” he said exasperatedly. 

“I’m done with this conversation,” I said bluntly, gathering up my things once we got back to our spot.

“Because you know I’m right.” he sneered, throwing my board in the sand by our stuff.

“No JJ, because you’re being ridiculous!” I shouted, grabbing my board.

“Where are you going?” he asked, the others staring at us.

“I’m walking home, I want to be alone.” I mumbled, walking-well, limping- towards the van. 

“Bubba you can’t walk all the way home with your leg-” he said.

“MY LEG IS FINE!” I screeched, everyone’s eyes widening at my sudden outburst. I turned away before they could see the tears building up in my eyes. 

“Get back here!” JJ yelled, I flipped him the bird. I didn’t turn around as he continued to yell for me. 

I got to the van, shoving my things inside. I knew I couldn’t make it home, my leg was throbbing. I sat in the back of the van with the back door open, crying out my frustration. I dried off my stitches, applying new gauze and bandaging to my leg. I put my sling back on once my arm finally started to allow me to move it again. 

“Well hello little Miss Routledge,” a voice came from beside me. I jumped, seeing a man I didn’t know approach me.

“Who are you? How do you know me?” I asked, standing up quickly.

“I knew your father, and I know what he was after. Word on the street is that you and your little friends know where the gold is.” he said, coming closer to me. I backed away from him slowly, turning to look for my friends. 

“Look, we don’t have it. I swear to you, Ward Cameron stole it from where we found it.” I said, holding my hands out in front of me. 

“That’s a nice story, anyone who had that much money would try to hide it.” he said, pulling out a gun.

“I’m serious, please! We don’t have it! Do you honestly think we would still be here if we did?!” I cried, frozen in place as he raised the gun.

“Your father took everything from me, now I’ll kill off his spawn.” the man spat, my eyes widening. I heard the cock of another gun, the mans head being turned to the side as JJ came in to view.

“Drop it” JJ sneered, pressing his gun harder into the mans head. 

The man laughed as he dropped the gun, I ran to kick it out of reach. He moved quickly, grabbing a hold of me to spin us around. He held me in front of him so that I was now in the range of JJ’s gun. He went to put his arm around my neck, but I acted on my fight or flight response. 

At the last second I grabbed his finger, yanking it down and back as hard as I could, hearing an audible snap. His other hand went to grab my hair, JJ appearing beside me, and punched the man in the face. He tried to grab my ankles, but JJ was quick to pull me out of the way. JJ stomped on his hands, making the man cry out. JJ took his boot to kick the guys face in. Everyone came in that instant, all of us jumping in the van.

“What the fuck was that?!” John B. yelled, speeding back to the chateau.

“Ward is up to something, that man thinks we still have the gold.” I said, shaking from the adrenaline.

We heard more gun shots, some of them pinging off the van. We ducked when one hit through the back window and went through the windshield. John B. slammed on the gas, swerving through town and back streets to get away from the people chasing us. I chanced a look back, seeing two SUV’s tailing us. I spotted the gun I stole from Barry in the backseat. I grabbed it, looking back at Sarah who was in the passenger seat.

“Sarah! Switch me seats!” I yelled, making my way up from the back.

“What?!” she cried.

“Switch me seats! Hurry!” I shouted, helping her maneuver so she wouldn’t fall on her stomach. 

“Baby what are you doing?!” JJ yelled, grabbing a hold of John B.’s headrest. 

“You’ll see,” I smiled. 

I threw my sling at JJ, rolling my shoulder a few times. I rolled the window down, looking in the side-view mirror before sticking my body out. I cocked the gun before shooting rounds at the people chasing us, aiming for their tires. I had to duck a few times, barely missing their bullets. I successfully popped one of the SUV’s tires, causing the one behind them to crash into it. JJ grabbed my waist, yanking me back into the van.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” he screamed, pulling the gun out of my grasp.

“What? I stopped them didn’t I?” I smirked, sitting back in my seat.

=======================================

“I don’t know whether to fuck you or spank the hell out of you.” JJ deadpanned as soon as we got to the chateau. Everyone had already made their way inside, too much action for one day.

“Kinky,” I smirked, running my hands up his chest. He still had a very angry look on his face, his eyes hard and narrowed.

“You have really pissed me the fuck off today baby.” he said, no humor in his tone. I squirmed, knowing I had been a bit much today.

“I know,” I said, looking at my feet.

He looked at me for a while longer before pushing my hands away. He walked back in to the chateau, leaving me alone. I sighed, pushing my hands through my hair. I knew I fucked up today, I pushed myself to the absolute limits. And I pushed JJ’s patience, more than likely earning myself the silent treatment for the rest of the night. 

My leg and shoulder were really starting to bother me now. I cursed myself for being stubborn, limping towards the porch. It took everything in me not to scream when I had to push myself up the stairs. I didn’t even spare a glance at the others as I made my way to my room. I downed some pain killers, moving some of my pillows so that I could prop my leg on something. I wanted to cry from how much pain I was in, but my pride wouldn’t allow it. 

I also wished JJ would stop being a pain in the ass, even though I drove him to the state he was in, and massage my shoulder. I put another pillow under my arm, trying to find a comfortable position to stop the throbbing pain I was feeling. I let out a frustrated grunt, accepting that there was no comfy spot I could be in to stop the pain. The door opened, revealing my favorite blonde headed boy. And in his hands were two bags of frozen peas, my eyes watered at how sweet he was even when he was mad at me. 

“I figured you could use these after you wore your muscles out like the big dummy you are.” he grumbled, helping me adjust the ice packs. 

“That’s not nice.” I said softly, pouting at my boyfriend. 

“I can’t help I have a very, very, very stubborn girlfriend that does dumb things.” he huffed, sitting next to me. 

“I think my boyfriend is just very, very, very overprotective.” I smiled, taking his hand to play with his rings.

“Maybe he just doesn’t want you to die.” he exaggerated.

“You’re so dramatic babe.” I chuckled, looking into his baby blue eyes.

“I’m serious! I can’t lose you.” he mumbled, taking his hand to brush it across my cheek.

“Is that what this is all about?” I asked, earning a nod from JJ. I could see tears collecting in his eyes. “Oh honey, come here.” I frowned.

JJ leaned into my chest, letting his tears out. He sobbed against me, his hands clutching at my shirt. I rubbed his back with one hand, taking the other to wipe his tears away.

“Baby, I’m ok.” I whispered, kissing his cheek.

“I can’t get the image of you bloody and your arm fucked out of my head. I worry about your every move that you’re just going to collapse and not wake up. I can’t express the amount of terror I was in those last few minutes when we at that warehouse.” he croaked, hugging me tighter to him.

“Honey, that’s all over now. We’re both home, safe.” I said.

“Yeah and now we got some crazy dude that obviously has something against your dad after us. I just want it to stop, I want to start our life together.” he said, sniffling as he wiped the remainder of his tears away. 

“We’ll figure it out, we always do.” I smiled, combing my fingers through his messy hair. 

“I’m sorry for yelling at you,” he said, kissing my shoulder. 

“I deserved it,” I sighed. 

“Yeah, but I’m still sorry.” he mumbled, burying his face in my neck. 

“I love you more than anything in the world blondie,” I whispered, kissing his cheek.

“I love you more than the stars love the moon sweets,” he whispered, planting a single kiss on my neck. 

I scooted over to his side so that he could lay on my good shoulder, both us falling into a peaceful slumber.

=====================================

[yeet-me-dad-dy]

Control

Summary: Connor has to stop your dark alter ego.

Characters: Connor x Reader

Warnings: Gore, blood, swearing, death, murder

Words: 2,710

The house was awake with shadows and monsters, the hallways echoed and groaned. Connor and Hank were bombarded by whispers the moment they stepped over the threshold into the large, dilapidated house. It was as if they were inside of Connor’s head, swirling around. Mocking him. Taunting him.

They don’t love you. How could they? You’re nothing.

You’re just a machine.

You’re not human.

Hank hadn’t even made it five feet into the house before he dropped his gun and clutched at his head, trying to block out the whispers, muttering, “no, no, no” over and over again. Connor quickly ushered him outside through the pouring rain, back to his car, before returning to the house. The thick, ornate door slammed behind him and he rushed over to pull at the handle. It wouldn’t budge.

He couldn’t leave.

You can’t really feel.

You’re just their toy.

The house was drowned in blackness. The storm clouds outside obscured the moon from view, its silver rays unable to penetrate the thick blanket. Doubtless, it wouldn’t have helped illuminate this rundown house; all of the windows were boarded up and covered with thick, moth-eaten drapes. It was times like these that Connor was both glad and hated that he was an android.

The RK800 model was equipped with enhanced night vision; he could see in this blackness as easily as if all the house’s lights were on. By RA9, though, he wished he couldn’t. The walls were slick and dripping with fresh blood, the wallpaper drinking it up. Two bodies lay on the floor in the entryway where the android stood - one on the stairs before Connor, the other between the stairs and the door, directly at his feet. A scan showed that the nearest corpse’s spinal cord was severed. It seems he’d almost escaped from whatever was - is - in this house, but was eliminated just before he reached freedom.

They’re playing you.

You’re so gullible.

So naive.

A chill went up Connor’s spine. His sensors detected movement upstairs and he knew he should go investigate, but he couldn’t move. He was scared.

Hank and Connor were sitting at their desks in the DPD when the android’s LED flashed, indicating he was getting a call. He answered happily, but his mood quickly fell when he heard what was on the other end of the line.

“Connor?” the voice was male, strained and wavering with fear. “You have to get here. I called for backup, but they’re all dead. It’s (Y/N). They killed them all. I’m the only one left and I can’t get out of here. You have to stop them. You have to-”

Static filled the line for a moment and Connor called into the receiver, asking if the man was still there, if he was okay. He was greeted with your voice… almost your voice. It was you, unmistakably, but something was… off.

“Hello, love,” you purred. Connor could hear a gurgling sound in the background, like someone trying to breathe with water-filled lungs. “I was wondering how long it would take for them to get a hold of you. Are you going to come and play?”

Connor took a tentative step around the body and toward the stairs, gun raised. To his right was an archway leading into the living room, and the kitchen was to his left. There were more bodies in each, the hardwood floors drinking up both blue and red blood seeping from severed arteries as they mixed together to create a sickening shade of purple.

“Connor!” he heard a cry from above him, a female’s voice this time that was quickly cut off. It wasn’t yours, but it was calling for his help. He raised his gun and started up the stairs, cringing at every creak and groan the staircase offered.

He stepped off of the stairs and around the banister. More bodies. So many bodies. This hallway was as wide as the entryway, with two doors to the right and one to the left.

“Once more…” he heard a whisper, so faint that even his enhanced hearing almost missed it.

“Help me! Plea-” The voice was cut off again, but Connor was able to pinpoint that it originated from the left door.

He made his way cautiously over, stepping over bodies, his footsteps splashing in the deep pools of blood. At the end of the hall was a set of glass doors leading to a balcony. The doors were shattered and a body was slumped over the balcony railing, dangerously close to slipping and falling to the ground below. Its bulletproof vest was eviscerated; deep gashes went right through the material and into the officer’s back. The RK800 cross-referenced these claw marks with all known creatures, but his test came back negative.

Whimpering reached his ears and he pried his gaze from the body on the balcony and turned it swiftly to the door now ahead of him. It was ever so slightly ajar, dripping with blood, and he could see bullet holes littering the thick wood. These weren’t the only bullet holes, however. They were everywhere - all over the house. Most belonged to handguns, but some he identified as belonging to automatic weapons. It was then that he noticed a few of the corpses were clutching bigger guns. The faces that he could see were all frozen in various states of terror.

He heard another muffled sob. He should have been in the room already - rushed in to help whoever was in distress… but he was stalling… hesitating. He didn’t want to know what was on the other side of that door, though he had an idea... one that made his blood run cold.

He swallowed hard and used the toe of his boot to push open the door, gun readied. He stepped over the threshold into a large bedroom. There was a body on the bed before him, some bookshelves and another door to the balcony to his right… and someone crouched down in the corner to his left.

His heart stopped.

The figure turned to regard the newest arrival, shifting so that Connor could see the android they had cornered. Its legs were missing, sparking wires and crumpled metal indicating that they had been torn off by some great force. He kept his gun trained on the crouching figure as he slipped his flashlight from his pocket. He didn’t need it; he knew who the figure was. But… he had to be sure. He positioned it under his gun and switched it on with a click.

The glint of sharp steel at the android’s throat was the first thing he noticed. Your eyes were second - black like the void - and the sharp claws on the ends of your fingers were third.

“There… I- I did as you said. I called him up here. Please… please let me g-” The android stopped as you slid your knife across her throat, cutting through her like butter. Thirum spurted out, adding a swirling blue to the sea of red and purple already on the floor.

You were soaked in it. You rose suddenly, slowly, black eyes never leaving him. What was this? What were you?

“Hello, Connor.” Your voice was like silk and velvet and caramel - smooth, soft, and sweet. Intoxicating. “I was starting to think you weren’t going to show.”

The android took a tentative step forward.

“(Y/N)?” he asked quietly.

You laughed lowly, a wicked grin overtaking your features. “Oh, no darling. Your lovely (Y/N) isn’t here right now.”

“What is this?” he asked. “Why are you doing this?” His heart was beating faster than it ever had before.

“Why?” you asked innocently. No... not you. It. It took a step forward and the darkness seemed to swirl around it like ink. “Because this is the only way I was ever going to get to meet you-” In an instant, it was standing before him. Its body had turned into a cloud of darkness, darted forward, and then regained its physical form. “-face to face,” it whispered. “They sure as hell weren’t going to introduce me.”

It’s face was only centimeters from his, breath reeking of blood. “(Y/N)… Please, you’re scaring me,” he tried, gazing into those shining black eyes, desperate to find any sign of you behind them.

It sneered and took half a step back. “I’m not (Y/N). And goddamn right you should be scared of me.” Its arms went out to its sides, right hand still clutching a dripping knife, as a blast of darkness erupted from you, shaking the house and sending Connor flying back into the bookshelves.

“ Ḯ͉̭̐͆ͪ͐͒ ̧̼̊Ä̠̲̞̠̠́̀̂ͭ̊͞M̙ ̗̻͓̼̮ͯ͑ͦͧI̋ͬͩ̑̈́͑̀N͔̬ ̆̎̒C̲̽ͤ̐͂̕O͎͙̮͕̠̕N̠͛̂ͤͨT̞̹ͦͪ̌R̜͙ͭ̐̓Ō̰͓̲̝̯̐̔ͫ͞L̲̯̞̙̠ͫ̌ͫͪ̃̊͞!̦̜̣̮̱̽ ” it shrieked.

Connor found his feet quickly, raising his gun to point once more at whatever dark creature had taken hold of the love of his life. Its left arm dropped to its side. It pointed the knife at Connor and lowered its head, gazing through its lashes at the android.

“Are you going to shoot me?” it asked sweetly, voice echoing around Connor in hushed whispers.

“If you give me no choice,” he warned.

It smirked and shifted the knife so that the tip was now pressed up against its chest, just above your heart. “You kill me and your love dies too,” it said flatly.

“Why are you doing this?” Connor asked once more.

“I already told you.” It took a step toward him, knife dropping back into a neutral position, glinting in the beam of his flashlight. “I wanted to meet you.”

“Why?”

It scoffed. “To kill you, of course. I want them to get a taste of what it’s like to be locked in that cage, helpless. I want them to watch as I kill you - slowly, intimately… in all the ways I know you fear… And their screams of grief will sing like music in my head.”

He hesitated. “Who are you?”

It shrugged, taking another step forward. “I’m them, but I’m not. I’m them, but better. Stronger, faster, smarter.” Its smirk widened into a grin. “More dangerous. You’ve known about me. You saw the signs. ‘Anger issues’ they said. You knew that wasn’t it, but you chose not to see. You chose to ignore it - to pretend everything was fine. You could have stopped me, but you just watched-” It raised its arms again with a smirk. “-as this happened,” it hissed, referring to the massacre.

“Where’s (Y/N)?” he asked.

The other you clicked its teeth. “They’re in here,” it said, raising the knife’s tip to your temple. “It’s rather annoying, really. They’re screaming. Crying. Struggling to take back the reins, begging me not to hurt you. It’s rather inconsiderate. I never made nearly as much noise when I was the one locked in the cage.”

Connor was backed against the bookshelves with it between him and the door. He could try for the balcony, but it’d catch him. He shouldn’t run anyway. You needed him, and he couldn’t allow this… thing to remain in control of you. If he could just get through to you…

“(Y/N),” he tried again, his voice quiet as he gazed into the black abyss of the demon’s eyes. “I know you’re still in there. I know you can fight it. You can regain control.”

The demon laughed, throwing its head back. “Oh, that’s cute. I’ve got them locked away, deep within their subconscious. They can hear you, but they can’t fight me. Not from where they’re at.”

He’d have to try a different approach. “You said you wanted to meet me so you could kill me. Why?” he asked.

It chuckled. “Because I know you. I’ve seen every loving gaze, been on every insufferable date, had to experience every disgusting love-making session. I’ve been here the whole time.” Its voice wavered and its head twitched. It were radiating darkness; it was seeping from its skin, rising to swirl around it like smoke from a campfire. “I’ve had to sit by and watch while my arrogant other half got to be happy. Why do they get to be the one in control?” Its voice was rising now, the darkness growing thicker, heavier. Connor’s ears were ringing. The blackness was swirling around him like a hurricane.

“T̴́H̢̛͞E̴Y̛͢͞ ̢P҉R̢͜OM̛͜͢I͡҉͢S͠ED͜ ̸͢TH̛E͞͏Y ́W͟͡Ơ͟UL̸҉D͜ ̶͘L̴̸Ę̡T̡͘͝ ͝҉̀M̀E͠͞ O͜U̸T̷.͝ T͝H̢̡E̢Y ̧͏Ṕ̸R̷Ơ͢M̀I͘S҉È̡͜D ̛͘͜T̢HE̡Y̵͡ W̢͜͝OU̷̢L҉҉D̸͘ ҉̡G̷̸̕I͟͠V̛É̴ ͘ME ҉C͏O̢͜N͢͞Ţ̵̶R̸̀O̕͢L͜͝.͟”

And suddenly the world went still. The ringing stopped. The only sound to be heard was the blood dripping from its knife to splash in the pools at its feet.

“It’̷s͠ my̷ tu̷r͞n̡ n̷ow͡,” it whispered.

It lunged toward Connor in a cloud of smoke, pinning him to the bookshelves, its knife at his neck, claws trailing lightly down his face, caressing him as it smirked.

“And I’m going to start by destroying the one thing they love most.”

It pressed the knife into his neck and he could feel the blade break the skin, the tickle of thirium as it trickled down his neck, leaving a trail of blue in its wake. Its hand was shaking, knuckles white as they gripped the knife. It’d broken only the top layer of skin and plastic. Why wasn’t it killing him?

“No…” it muttered. “No… you fucking… don’t…” Its head twitched again and it lurched backward, away from Connor, landing hard on its back on the floor. “I won’t let you hurt him,” it hissed, only this time… it wasn’t sickly sweet. This time… it was you.

“ŅƠ͜!” the other one shrieked as your body turned, propping itself up on its elbows. It dropped the knife and brought its bloody hands up to its head, twisting its fingers in its hair, claws digging into its scalp.

“I̝ͧ͑̒̔̾̅͊’̞͙̪͚̞̽M͍͐ ̾ͥ͛I̬͎̲̙̼͗͊͑ͧͪ̈́̚̕ͅN͚͇̟͜ ̀C͈̲͓̯̬̓̃͐ͅO͈͐Ṇ͚̘̬͚̀ͦͤT̔̑̈́ͦͧͦͧ͏͓̦R̍̓ͤ̄͡Ọ̥̣́̐̍͗̇L̼̟̻̥̣̰̈́ͬͥͯ̍ͬ͗ͅ ̫̲̽̒ͫṈ̬͕̘̠͂̔ͅO͙ͯ͛ͩ͘W͓͍̞̼̊.̙̪͖̤̺̟”

“Connor!” you cried and the android was ripped from his state of shock. He rushed forward, gripping you by the shoulders and pulling you into his lap. He wrapped his arms around you as you clawed at your head. “It’s in my head… Its voice. I can’t stop it, Connor! It’s too strong, I can’t stop it!” You were sobbing, hot tears leaving deep trenches in the blood coating your face. You took in a shuddering breath. “You have to. You have to stop it. Please. Please, Connor, I can’t. I’m not strong enough. I’m not-

“E͙̠̩ͭ̐͐͝N̯̣͎̲̝̱̿̆̾͌ͯ͘O̭̬̠͕͈̮ͫ͐͒ͯỤ̡̙̱͓̅̇G̠̘͓͇͋͆H͈̰̠̱̀!̦̦̱͕̝̥̝̆ͮ̓ͩ”

It wrenched itself out of Connor’s grasp, grabbing the knife as it crawled across the floor to slump against the wall. The android raised his gun again. He could feel tears prickling behind his eyes, threatening to well up and spill over.

“Į̡͌T͌ͮ̄͆ͥ̽͒͝͝’̛̅̊͆͋̕Sͤ͛ͫ ̡̓͒ͪͮ́̚̕M̶ͪ́͊̀Y̏ͮ̅̄ͣ͑͢͟ ̈̅̀͌̾̽̚͏T̈̔̓ͩ̎͛̚̚҉Uͬ͐ͥR̛̒ͣ̄̂͠N͌̓ͤ̐̔̓̈́ ̴̛̆̌ͪ͆̑̂͂ͧ͘N̛ͩ́̏͛̈́Ỏ̋ͩ͂̌͘Wͬ͛̽͆̃ͤ̅͏͜,́̈́͗ͣ̇̽͋͏” it insisted, gripping the knife tightly once more as it adjusted into a crouching position. He knew it was going to lunge for him again, black eyes boring into his. This time, he knew you wouldn’t be able to stop it. This time, it would kill him.

“Please, Connor.” And suddenly your eyes were yours again, begging him to help you. “Please.”

Their color faded back into black as it rushed forward. Connor barely had time to react.

BANG.

It fell just short of where he knelt and the knife slipped from its hand, skittering across the floor. The android’s heart stopped as his brain tried to process what had just happened, what he’d just done. He dropped his gun.

Oh god… what had he just done?

“No… No, no, no, no, no,” he begged as he knelt forward, taking your body in his blood-soaked arms and turning you onto your back to cradle you.

“No, please. Please, please, no.” The tears were falling freely now. You were gazing up at him, eyes lifeless and cold, a bullet hole right in the middle of your forehead. Your own blood was running down your face to mix with all the other blood in this godforsaken house. He clutched you tightly to his chest, resting your head in the crook of his neck as he began to sob.

“I’m sorry!” he wept. “I’m sorry, I didn’t… I didn’t want…” He was gasping, choking. “I’m sorry. Please, please don’t be dead. Please wake up. (Y/N), please!”

He didn’t hear Hank enter the room, the Lieutenant’s breath catching in his throat.

“(Y/N),” Connor whimpered. “Please… Don’t leave me. I love you…”

[philosophiums]

@universepls ask and ye shall receive

Haikyuu short fic a la Hinata getting injured during a match

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

“Asahi, nice serve!”

“One more!”

Hinata’s voice rings loud, following up Daichi’s encouragement like a punch in the ribs. It’s a wind-up, it’s excitement, but it’s a warning to the team across the court, too. At the net on the right, Tobio meets eyes with the other team’s setter and grins. No one gets under his skin the way Hinata does, pushing him to his limit to do more, better, faster, but he knows that Hinata affects more than just him. They guy’s a monster, and everyone here knows it.

“Nice serve,” he calls, but covers the back of his head just in case. With Azumane’s serve, it’s more likely to be a home run than a smack to the skull, but he hasn’t taken any chances since Hinata bit him.

The serve goes up with a shot of adrenaline to the meager crowd gathered to cheer them on, and it’s good, short and messing up their rhythm.

“Cover!”

“Yukine!”

Hinata races up beside Tobio, and the crowd falls away. It’s just this moment, this crouch, Hinata taking off a moment sooner to make up for their height difference.

The ball smacks off Hinata’s fingers.

“One touch!” he shouts, and then he’s gone.

“Chance ball!” Daichi’s got their backs, getting low for an easy receive in the middle. “Kageyama!”

It’s perfect, an ideal location, and Tobio moves to it quickly to catch up with Hinata’s whirlwind at the net.

Tobio breathes. They haven’t used the monster quick yet, but Hinata’s clearly gearing up for it. Even without it, he’s being the perfect decoy, racing and dodging because that’s the only thing he can do right now – score points. Tobio’s used him perfectly this match, getting the winning shot on the first set, getting them into a lead here in the second match. Hinata is a bullet that never stops, and Tobio knows exactly how and when to fire.

Tanaka’s open, but Hinata’s in the lead of the blockers.

Go, he thinks, wills the ball into motion, and shoots it off over his shoulder. He looks only after he’s tossed, and Hinata, backlit by the crowd, by the light slamming in through the court’s high windows, really looks like he could have wings. Go.

The ball snaps to the floor.

“Alright!” Hinata yells, running back as soon as he’s landed to high-five Tanaka and Daichi.

Tobio’s chest fills with pride, at his own toss, at Hinata’s perfect trust and evolving aim. “Nice kill,” he says, perfectly serious. “But move faster next time, dumbass. They were right behind you.”

Hinata gets puffed up like the stupid little bird he is. “Huh? That’s where they’re supposed to be, idiot.”

Tobio glares at him because he’s right. “Maybe I’ll just toss to Azumane and Tanaka for the rest of the match.”

That gets a sputter and a frustrated huff, and, seething, Hinata turns back to the net.

“Hey,” Tobio doesn’t turn to look, because Daichi and Tanaka are already calling for a nice serve again. “Let’s do that again.”

Hinata widens his stance. “Hell yeah.”

“Nice serve!” Tobio calls, hands up on his head again.

It goes over with a smack, and the audience fades again, Tobio focused only on the ball, on where it might go up. It moves to their setter off to the left and – a feint? He switches it up at the last minute, tossing to the left, and Tobio is two steps behind.

Tanaka rushes up, jumping with Hinata, but the spiker hits it off their hands and lets it fly out of bounds. The other team’s cheers roar in Tobio’s ears. He clicks his tongue, the shake of his head sending drops of sweat dancing off his hair. Hinata throws a fit, staring at his hands like they betrayed him, even if the rebound was off of Tanaka’s right hand.

“Ah,” Azumane sighs, rubbing the back of his head. “I wanted to get at least one more point from serving.”

“Don’t mind, don’t mind,” Daichi says, slapping Azumane on the back and then clapping his hands. “Let’s get that back.”

“Hell yeah!” Hinata and Tanaka cheer, getting back into position with bent knees and fisted hands. Hinata looks fired up. They all do. Tobio’s not going to let this receive go to waste, trusting that the ball will go up.

The serve comes over, within diving distance of their best receiver.

“Sorry! It’s long!” Nishinoya calls, but Tobio can already see that.

“Don’t mind,” he says, pinpointing the drop point and letting his spatial awareness tell him where everyone’s moving. Azumane’s in the center, running at first tempo for a back attack. Tanaka’s to the left with two blockers on him. Daichi is ready for a spike, too, covering distance quickly, bent low like he’s going to jump high.

But it’s Hinata who calls to Tobio, a tornado leading a single blocker on a string, going long to the right because no one thinks that they can do that quick again, especially from a side swipe position, especially so close to the net. They’re underestimating Tobio’s ability and Hinata’s reflexes.

That’s their loss.

Tobio throws the ball like it’s magnetized, but Hinata was moving faster and further than Tobio thought, and it’s short. Time slows, and he can see Hinata watching the ball, the blocker’s hands up and out, ready for a hard spike that isn’t going to make it. Fuck. He fucked up. He’s going to prove correct their theories that their monster quick was a fluke.

Hinata throws out his left hand, and his fingertips connect, pushing the ball up and over in a movement so light and direct that it looks like an intentional feint.

Tobio’s breath catches. And then time moves as it should once more.

With a crash, Hinata slams into the floor, his momentum working too well with gravity to prevent him from landing perfectly on his feet. He’ll get back up. He just scored an impossible point, something he never would have been able to do at the end of last year. He’s already on his knees.

The team is shouting.

But Hinata stays on the floor.

Something’s wrong.

“Hinata?” Tobio is the first one to speak, because he’s always watching his bullet striker, waiting for him to do something new, something surprising enough to make Tobio realize that he still has ample room for improvement.

“I’m fine,” Hinata calls back, but he’s tense, and he’s not getting up.

The whistle blows, cutting off a shout from Tanaka, and Tobio moves before his mind can catch up with his feet. He grabs Hinata by the collar of his jersey. “If you’re fine, then get to your feet.”

“Hey, Kageyama – ”

Hinata grabs Tobio by the wrist and presses down, like he’s going to use him as a brace to get back up. That’s fine. As long as he gets back on his feet, as long as he’s fine. He has to be fine.

As soon as his right foot touches the floor, Hinata’s face contorts and he collapses.

“Hinata.” It’s Ukai, kneeling down next to him. “Don’t force yourself. You’ll just make it worse.”

Tobio still has his fist in Hinata’s jersey, and Hinata’s still holding on, so tight it might bruise, so tight his knuckles are white.

Crying. He’s crying.

The crowd really is silent now, holding their breath while Tobio can’t seem to catch his own. It was his bad toss threw Hinata off his balance. He should have tossed to Azumane for a back attack. He should have taken his chances with Tanaka. But Hinata had jumped. Hinata was there. He’s always supposed to be there.

“It’s not broken,” Hinata says, desperate, like he needs to believe it. Breaks are uncommon in volleyball, but Hinata’s a reckless dumbass, so if anyone could manage a break, it would be him. He’d be out for months.

Even with a sprain, he’s going to be out for a long time.

“Sit down,” Tobio says, pushing Hinata onto his left hip so that his right leg can slide out and stop taking the weight of his body. “And shut up. It’s not broken.”

Hinata’s still crying, though he’s trying to keep the tears in as much as possible. “Kageyama… it was a good toss. Don’t apologize.”

No. Tobio grabs the front of Hinata’s jersey, pushing him back, conscious of his ankle but still mad as fuck. “It was short!”

“Kageyama!”

He ignores Daichi and the coach.

“If it had been longer, you’d still be in the game!”

Hinata doesn’t even blink at him. There’s no instant comeback, no rise of anger to battle Tobio’s own. He just grabs Tobio’s other wrist and stares him down. “You’re the team’s pillar. You touch the ball the most. If you start doubting your tosses, you’re going to lose the point I just got us.”

Tobio freezes. The whole team freezes. Fuck. He keeps forgetting that Hinata’s matured so much.

“You dumbass,” he says, grip loosening, aware that Takeda is pressing an ice pack to Hinata’s ankle now. “I never doubt my tosses.”

Hinata smiles, and the tears ease up just a little.

Ukai looks up and beckons at their sub players. “Kinoshita!” The second year jogs forward, crouching down next to Hinata. “Get him to the nurse. If he has to go to the hospital, come back and get Shimizu.”

“Got it.” Kinoshita looks at Tobio, who finally releases his grip from Hinata completely, though Hinata doesn’t let go of Tobio. “Hinata,” Kinoshita says, offering his hand.

Hinata reaches out with his right hand but keeps his left on Tobio’s wrist, so Tobio adjusts his grip and helps pull Hinata up.

The crowd roars, both sides showing support for overcoming the injury. But Tobio can see how much it hurts just to have all that blood rushing down to his ankle. “Hey,” he says, squeezing Hinata’s hand. “We can survive without you.”

Kinoshita ducks down to be a better support for their short spiker, and Hinata cooperatively hooks his arm around Kinoshita’s shoulder.

“I know,” he says, moving his eyes around the team. “But you won’t have as much fun without me.”

Tsukishima clicks his tongue. “We might be able to think without you, though.”

“Rude!” Hinata cries, and there’s the ferocious little crow again. Well done, Tsukishima.

“Go rest,” Tobio says, using his free hand to get Hinata’s grip off his wrist. “We’ll take the match.”

Hinata leaves the court half draped over Kinoshita to a roar from the crowd.

Ukai looks a little lost, and Takeda is staring at the doorway as if hoping this is a fluke.

But Tobio saw the ankle, the swelling that’s already started. Hinata’s not going to play for a long time, let alone get back in before the match is over.

Daichi claps his hands, getting their attention back. “It’s alright, we’ve recovered from injuries before. We can’t let Hinata show us up, but let’s make sure we don’t waste that point!”

“Right!” The team cheers, Tobio among them, but he’s watching Ukai bring Sugawara over.

After a brief talk between the two of them, Suga steps up to Tobio. “Okay?” he asks, as always too perceptive of his team. It sort of freaks Tobio out, even if it’s nice to know he doesn’t have to be the only one watching their players.

“Yeah.” Tobio faces the court, the team waiting to try and take advantage of their change in momentum and new players. “He’s the only one who’s hard to aim at. I’ll be fine setting to the rest of you.”

Sugawara huffs a light laugh, and Tobio steps onto the court. “That’s not what I meant,” Suga says, but he follows Tobio out anyway.

They win the set and the match cleanly with a four point lead, easily taking advantage of the other team’s miscalculations. Hinata still hasn’t come back, even though Kinoshita returned. But Shimizu’s still here, too, so Hinata must be on sight and not at the hospital. After they clear the court, the whole team flocks to the nurse’s office, but Tobio pushes through before anyone else can.

“Hey, Kageyama!” Someone reaches for his jersey, but he ducks inside before they can pull him back, pushing at the door because he needs a moment alone with his dumbass spiker. As the door closes, he hears Suga pacifying the team.

The nurse looks up at him, takes note of his jersey, and then nods to the cot in the corner, as if there’s anyone else in here. Tobio nods his thanks anyway and walks over.

Hinata’s lying down, his right leg propped up high by a stack of pillows, a thick ice pack wrapped around his ankle. His eyes light up when he sees Tobio. “We won,” he says, with confidence he absolutely has experience to back up.

“I told you we wouldn’t lose.” Tobio stands next to the cot for a moment, unsure what to do now that he’s gotten his moment alone. Finally, he sits down on the edge of the cot, eyes on Hinata’s injury. “Shouyou.” He hates this. He’s going to be blaming himself for this injury for a long time – maybe forever.

“Kageyama.” Hinata’s voice is firm, and Tobio turns in time to watch Hinata’s hand reach out and take his own, lacing their fingers together. When he looks up, Hinata’s eyes are on fire. “I’ll be better by the time we get to Nationals.”

Tobio stares, surprised, and then his face softens into a smile he’s learned to wear around Hinata. “Yeah.” It’ll be a long road to healing, and it’ll likely feel like years for Hinata, but if he rests and does whatever stretches he’s told to do, then he’ll make it back to the court. “I’ll pave the way for you.”

[jeebsy]

Titanfall 2 Titan Guide Part 3

I’m back again with Part 3 of my Titan Guide. This will be the final part and will focus on the Ogre Chassis Titans ‘Scorch’ and ‘Legion’.

This is a somewhat extensive overview of each Titan & how to use them against other players. Again I am not the best player out there but I’ve played enough and have a good understanding of each titan. Hopefully at least some of you will find this guide useful. See you on the frontier pilots!

Feel free to add your own tips or correct me if you think I’ve made a mistake.

Below the cut because this is long.

First I’ll say there is no be all end all way to play the titans. Most if not all titan kits are useful in certain situations and as such you should experiment with each to find what works for you. I’ll be giving my recommendations for kits and explaining my choices at the end of each titans segment.

I’ve split each Titan up into 6 sections, going over (in order):

"Titan Name:" Quick overview & what to learn first with that Titan to get good.

Using them Against Pilots

Using them Against Titans.

Their Core.

General Tips/Tricks

My recommended Titan Kit.

Scorch: Papa himself. If he gets close enough, he becomes an unstoppable monster! First thing to learn with him though, is when to engage & when to disengage. You can't always run at your enemies with fire shield & expect to kill them. So learning when to back off is critical, & should be the most important thing to learn. Aside from that, IF you do manage to catch up to your enemies, it's safe to say they are probably dead.

Against Pilots: Learn how to hit them with your 'Thermite Launcher'. This is crucial to learn because if you constantly miss with it, pilots will eat up your 'Thermal Shield' & slowly chip your beautiful 5 bars of health away. 'Thermal Shield' is effective against pilots who are too close though, & will slightly push them back. This does wonders to pilots foolish enough to try & jump on you from the front, as they can't get through your shield fast enough to hop on (Unless they're stims flying around at 100mph. Even then you're more than likely to kill them). A regular melee hit will kill them faster however, so don't completely neglect using your punches for your new best face-melting friend.

Against Titans: Scorch can kill almost the whole cast in a matter of seconds, & that's not paraphrasing. At range, use your 'Thermite Launcher' to slowly poke at enemy health bars & keep pressure on them. As you move in, use your 'Firewall' to control ground movement, & try blocking off escape routes from your opponent. 'Incendiary Traps' are effective at this as well. Use 'Heat Shield' to force your opponent in the direction you want them to go, as they will have no choice but to try & keep the space. Once you have your opponent where you want them, use an 'Incendiary Trap' at their feet & light that sucker with any of your abilities &/or 'Thermite Launcher'. Flame wall is also great when you are close, & will melt the health of an enemy Titan away + keep your hot boi safe from harm. Something else to note is that Scorchs abilities stack, so having 2 'Incendiary Traps' down on the same titan will deal the damage from both. Use this to great effect if you come upon an unsuspecting Titan/have the flank on your enemy. Again, he struggles at range & against speed, so Titans like Tone & Northstar are hard to get. Simply avoid their line of fire until you can corner them like the grunts they are.

'Flame Core' is a burst of big damage. Use it to destroy weakened enemies, as that will ensure you the kill. It does take some time to start up though, so keep that in mind. During the startup some opponents will see it coming & try to dash away. Watch for this, & adjust the core accordingly to hit them. Against Northstar, if you are already fighting her, try to bait out the 'VTOL Hover' with 'Incendiary Traps' below her feet, & once she lands, let it rip.

General Tips:

If you're doomed with core as Scorch and are afraid of dying before you can get the core off, you can activate core and begin ejecting. The core will go off during the ejection sequence and you will survive. You can do this with all titans with automatically firing cores, but it is particularly effective on him since the core is a single attack instead of sustained.

The only bug I'll highlight here: Flame Shield pierce. Hitscans can hit through Scorch's Flame Shield if they hit his feet (and randomly in some other spots, but whatever). Be careful of Ions, Monarchs and Legions that know about this, they will continue to chip away at your health as you advance.

Kit Recommendations:

Titan Kit: Turbo Engine

Scorch is so slow he NEEDS turbo engine to get around effectively.

Scorch Kit: Wildfire Launcher or Tempered Plating or Inferno Shield

Wildfire Launcher just gives bonus damage to your weapon.

Tempered Plating is great as it’s stops you from damaging yourself with your own thermite AND removes your crit spot. Making you overall tankier.

Inferno Shield’s damage boost and duration increase allows you to basically use your heat shield as a primary form of attack. This is my personal pick.

Titanfall Kit: Drop Shield

Only two choices for this and it’s more a preference thing. Drop Shield gives you a nice safety area to retreat to if you need it.

Legion: If Scorch is the unstoppable force, then Legion is the immovable object. Legion is designed to hold lanes & slowly tear the enemy apart piece by piece. His DPS is unmatched, & can easily tear apart an enemy titan in seconds. First thing to learn is when to switch firing modes. He has a short range mode, which isn't super accurate + has limited range BUT can destroy pilots & Titans close quarters & a long range mode which is designed to provide long range fire, at the cost of using up 2 bullets per shot. Because Legion has the slowest reload time of any titan in the game, it is important to learn which mode to use & when so you don't run out of bullets unnecessarily. 'Gun shield' is also very situational. Don't pop gun shield whenever you are taking damage, as you are forced to keep it up until it's ability timer is done. This seems handy dandy, but you can't melee, run &/or sprint anywhere, & you are slowed to a snails pace (You can still dash though). I will go into more detail below in the Titan section. I also recommend a higher sensitivity if you want to main Legion, due to his mobility preventing you from being able to create space fast enough to properly aim.

Against pilots: Legion is unstoppable... for the first few seconds. If you are in CQC mode, his 'Power Shot' will one shot any pilot in a large window & kill them instantly, making him very effective at killing pilots. However, unless you have the 'Hidden compartment' kit equipped, you only get one shot, do not miss your chance to blow, this opportunity only comes once until your ability recharges. 'Power shot' has two firing rates as well, one when you simply tap the ability, & one when you tap it & then press the fire button. The first one takes a second to activate, giving pilots the time to escape, where the second one is near instant. IF you miss your power shot, or there are multiple pilots attacking you, then you can either eliminate them with the CQC firing mode, or opt for the more accurate Long Range mode (Which in my opinion is far better to kill pilots with, due to the increased accuracy.) Avoid the gun shield against pilots unless you are being bombarded by many pilots. Although you will be protected from enemy fire, you can't melee until the gun shield is put away, making you an easy rodeo target for pilots. A gun shield + reloading Legion is a defenseless Legion.

Against Titans: Oh boy where to begin. IMO Legion is the most match up based titan in the game. You have to change your play style drastically depending on the opponent you're up against. First thing first, Unless your opponent is a medium-long range fighter, a medium-long distance in front of you & already looking at you, never start a fight with 'Gun Shield'. IF any of these 3 are not met, & I mean ANY, hold off on using gun shield. Against Monarch & Tone, AGGRESSIVE SUSTAINED COUNTER-FIRE is the best way to deal with them. Tone will try to set up a lock on you & have her 'Tracking Rockets' after you. Once her Missiles are under way, throw gun shield up & keep the pressure on her. If she drops her 'Particle Shield' outside of close range, then back off. Her shield can withstand a Long range 'Power Shot', & By the time you bring it down with all of your bullets, you will need to reload. Close the distance with her first before engaging, or wait out the 'Particle Shield'. Monarch is a baby Legion, & can't deal with her father giving her a spanking for being disrespectful & will have to run away. So try to hit her with a 'Power Shot' before she can escape to put on some damage. Ronin is annoying, as he will use your lack of mobility against you. Keep him at a distance. When he approaches, use your gun shield to block his arc wave & push him back with a power shot. That way, he can't stun you & stay out of your sights. Be careful of him Phasing through you as well & keep your eyes on him at all times. Ion is hard, but not impossible to beat. It requires patience, as you have to wait out the 'Vortex Shield' before being able to damage her. Once she runs out of juice, you have a small window in which to attack. Throw a quick power shot right before she runs out of energy & her shield drops in to do the most damage, & keep the pressure up while she recharges. But please, for the love of God, don't hold the firing button down while she has it up. She wants that & will abuse that. Patience is what wins this fight. Scorch is a nightmare though. At long range, you can do some damage but he will end up running away. Medium range is ok, as you can drain his shield & do damage while he either closes the gap or runs away. But close range, Scorch will eat you. Keep him away at all times, even if it means turning around & sprinting away. His 'Thermal Shield' will eat your power shot, preventing him from being knocked back, making running away your best option until you can 360 power shot him away when he doesn't expect it. NEVER PUT YOUR 'GUN SHIELD' UP AGAINST HIM! Take the damage from the 'Thermite Launcher' so you can keep your maneuverability. Slow targets are a breeze for him. Northstar is the easiest matchup for Legion. You can just melt her health bar away safely behind your 'Gun shield', & all you need to worry about is her 'Cluster Missile', which is a simple dash to safety. Just don't engage when she has cover to work with, catch her out in the open if you can, & catch her close if you can.

'Smart Core' is amazing. Nothing else really needed to be said. It instantly kills pilots, & gives you unlimited ammo, allowing AGGRESSIVE SUSTAINED COUNTER-FIRE until kingdom come. Just be weary of enemy Ions during this, whilst you will drain their Vortex Shield, they can redirect some of your bullets and can do some damage. Save it when against easier targets, & when there are plenty of smaller infantry to shoot.

General Tips: 

Flame Shield pierce. Hitscans can hit through Scorch's Flame Shield if they hit his feet (and randomly in some other spots, but whatever). If you are a Legion fighting a Scorch, a Powershot to the toes will keep the Scorch at a distance.

In Legion vs Scorch, it isn't a bad idea to use Gun Shield. T203 damage will add up if you don't, just don't activate it on reaction - getting caught in hugging distance of Scorch with Gun Shield out will hurt and you can't Flame Shield pierce when he's in your face.

Kit Recommendations:

Titan Kit: Turbo Engine.

Like Scorch, Legion is super slow so he NEEDS turbo engine to get around effectively.

Legion Kit: Hidden Compartment or Enhanced Ammo Capacity

Hidden Compartment is my personal pick. Although it does reduce power shots damage by 15%, it does give you a lot more versatility with a second shot.

Enhanced Ammo Capacity increases the amount of ammo you have in your predator cannon. This increases your damage output before needing to reload which is great as Legion has a pretty lengthy reload animation.

Titanfall Kit: Drop Shield.

Only two choices for this and it’s more a preference thing. Drop Shield gives you a nice safety area to retreat to if you need it.

[prettyyoungtragedy]

Written in the Stars (5)

Characters: Bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: You’re the type of woman who is headstrong and fiercely independent. Heiress to a fortune and one of the most brilliant minds of the 21st century. Until you’re forced into witness protection. Your “Protection” turns out to be 220 pounds of dreamy, sassy, delightful Bucky Barnes. Whatever could go wrong?

Warnings: Swearing, gun violence, blood and angst

A/N: This chapter gets a little intense. If you watched bodyguard on Netflix you will know one of the scenes in this chapter! Also took a little inspiration from a scene in CATWS, if you get it holla at me lol. There’s a lot of drama so buckle up bitches lol. Also if you love me throw me a reblog bc i always need validation! lol

This was generously Beta’d by my beta @suz-123 without whom I will never have any good ideas! thank you buddy!

Tags: Hit me up in my ASK box!

“There’s mail for you,” was the first thing you heard before the box your colleague, Lola, carried was dumped on your desk.

“What the-” You replied, startled.

“Yeah, I don’t know where it came from and don’t care,” She yawned, “Hey, is your hot bodyguard around? I wanna stare at him until its creepy.”

“Ugh, he’s probably skulking in a corner somewhere.” You waved your hand dismissively at the thought of Bucky’s hotness. Things had been tense between the two of you since that day at the tower, you’d been avoiding speaking to him and Bucky seemed to be trying harder to be nice to you. Of course, you weren’t ready to forgive him and what he’d done so you brushed off his niceness with stoic coldness.

When he was around you, you gave him tightlipped answers and a cold shoulder, only conversing with Arcas and Achilles. Both of whom were thoroughly entertaining to hang around all day. Bucky got the hint after a few days and he stopped trying to be nice, withdrawing from you completely and only speaking to you when necessary.

The trial had started again, and it had begun to take its toll once more. However gone were the days when he asked you if you were okay, instead, you were met with pitiful glances from Bucky at the end of each session in court, which you just ignored.

You had finally been able to get to work and had a moment alone before Lola interrupted you with mail. You reached for the box and letter she’d dropped onto your desk, grabbing a pair of scissors of the table and sliced open the tape of the box in an attempt to open it.

“Oh, too bad, I want to touch his biceps, my god that body of his. Ugh, can you imagine being beneath him and him just slamming into-”

Lola is cut off when you both hear a distinctly male voice clear his throat in the doorway, both of you whirling around in its direction.

“Fuck.” You muttered when you saw Bucky standing there with an amused look on his face.

“Oh, hi Sergeant Barnes,” Lola said, flirtily walking over to Bucky, she held out her hand for him to shake but he just looked at it, and then at her, before walking into the lab.

“What is that?” Bucky asked, seriousness suddenly lacing his tone.

“What now?” You sighed your hands still on the box as you pulled it open, Bucky was always bitching about something you were doing. It was exhausting, especially after the other night and your drunken escape from his protection. Needless to say, he was watching you like a hawk now, every second of every day he was hovering and it was driving you mad.

“Wait, don’t tou-” Bucky begins to say, rushing towards you, but, before he can finish his sentence, you pulled open the top of the box and flipped it open, dropping the contents onto your hand.

It was sticky and slightly warm, and when your eyes gazed down at the object in your hand you let out a horrified scream, flinging it onto the table in front of you. Lola backed away from the table, her hand flying up to her mouth to cover her own scream.

Bucky is beside you in a flash, his metal arm whipped across your body shielding you from the horrifying sight before you.

“Is that a fucking tongue?!” Lola exclaimed.

You couldn’t find any words at the moment, your mind was racing through the possibilities of what this package meant. But of course, you already knew who it was from, and what it meant. It was Hydra, they had sent you a fucking tongue in a box. Why? Because that’s what they did to traitors. Cut out their tongues and their hearts and mailed it to their families.

“Where did the box come from? Who brought it here?” He demanded looking between you and Lola,

“I-I don’t know.” Lola stuttered, “It was left at reception.”

“Was it cleared with security?” Bucky is hauling you out of your chair and backing you away from the bloodied tongue that now lay on your desk. It was the most vulgar thing you had ever seen and you had gone to medical school.

“I don’t know, they just handed it to me when I came to her lab.”

“Fucking fuck!”

Bucky pulled out his phone and quickly hit speed dial, he waited a moment before he began barking orders into the receiver.

“We have a problem, a big fucking problem. I need forensics and Banner here, now.” He waited for a response, “Yes, Jesus fuck, I know. No, no, it’s a body part.”

“Copy, Switch protection mode.”

“We have to go, now,” Bucky ordered, he shoved his phone back into his pocket and took you by the elbow, hurriedly guiding you out of your lab with Lola a few feet in front of you. Your mind isn’t processing what just happened, your heart is thundering in your chest and your mind is racing.

They sent you a fucking tongue in the mail. A bloodied, severed tongue.

~~~

The calm before the storm.

That saying always stuck with you, something you never understood really. Because you never found the calm before the storm a real thing, it always felt like chaos before a storm arrived. But at that moment, when Bucky hustled you into the backseat of the armored car, a strange sense of calm settled over you.

As if, after all these weeks of protection details and court dates, Hydra were finally stepping out of the shadows and doing something. It had been weeks of looking over your shoulder and sleepless nights that something, anything, was going to happen to you and, suddenly, here it was, that moment of panic.

“The Tower, now!” Bucky commanded the driver, as he got into the front seat beside him.

Almost immediately the car is kicked into drive and it speeds off the curb, from your seat in the back of the car you looked at Bucky’s face, his brow is furrowed, mouth set in an angry snarl, his usual starlight eyes seem cold and hard.

This wasn’t the Bucky Barnes you were used to.

“Bucky, what’s goi-” You started to say but there was suddenly a crack against the driver’s seat window that startled all of you in the car, it sounded like someone throwing a rock at the glass.

Your eyes flew to the window and you see it splintering as if something had been slammed into it with brutal force. The whiteness of the cracks spreading rapidly across the glass, each little shard of apparent bullet proof glass being crushed beneath the force of the object fired at it.

A bullet from a sniper rifle.

It doesn’t shatter, then again another round slammed into the window the driver skidding off the road as he attempted to get clear of it and away from the sniper.

“Get down!” Bucky bellowed at you before turning to the driver, “Go! GO!”

The driver speeds up the car, and a scream erupted from your throat, terror ripples through you, your heart lurches in your chest. Bucky’s metal arm reached over to the back seat and pushed you down to the seat in an attempt to shield you from any harm. He is rougher than he realizes, and you felt the bruising force behind his metal arm and it yanked you down onto the seat, gripping onto the flesh on your arm.

A  third bullet is fired at the window, shattering it this time, and suddenly the driver is hit straight through the side of his head with a second instant bullet.

Brain matter and blood splatter everywhere, all over you and Bucky, covering you in the warm slick blood and matter. You shut your eyes and screamed again, it’s terror like you had never felt before.

“Fuck!” Bucky shoved you to the floor while trying to get control of the car at the same time. It’s pointless, as the vehicle skidded off the road, slamming into a nearby car parked by the curb. Your body is lurched forward at the impact, another scream erupting from your throat, terror clawing its way through your limbs and almost paralyzing you when you opened your eyes again.  

Bucky utters a string of curses and drew his weapon, another three shots are fired, slamming against the armored metal of the car. It sounds like a sledgehammer being battered against it, the sound rings in your ears, your heart pounding harder with each shot fired at you.

“Window integrity 45%.” The programmed AI announced, its voice startling you as it rang through the car.

Crack. Crack. Crack.

The rounds hit the windows, splintering the glass and you screamed again.

“Get us out of here!” Bucky yelled at the AI.

“Propulsion systems are offline, Sergeant Barnes.” Came its reply.

“Then fucking reboot, god damn it.”

“System reboot initiated. Medics alerted. STRIKE security signal alerted to an imminent threat.”

The robotic way the AI spoke made you terrified. Something was wrong, of course, something was fucking wrong. Someone was fucking firing bullets at the goddamn car.

Another bullet hits the window and you screamed again, covering your ears and shutting your eyes in terror.

“Stay down! The bullets can pierce the windows but it can’t get through the armored metal.” Bucky exclaimed at you before he touched his comms, signaling he needed help.

“Sam!” He said into it, “Sniper, situation critical. One casualty, Achilles enroute I don’t have a visual on the shooter, the rounds seem to be strong enough to pierce the metal with a few rounds.” A pause, “She’s in the car, I have to get her out of here. Track my location and alert Strike, propulsion systems are offline.”

There’s a pause and four more shots are fired, and you scream, again. The wail of sirens pierced the air and civilians start screaming, chaos ensuing outside.

“Of course I fucking rebooted it, just fucking get here god damn it.”

You couldn’t hear anything that Bucky is now yelling into his comms and he shoved himself out of the seat and into the back seat beside you. The air in your lungs is scarce, blood rushing through your veins, heart slamming against your ribcage. Every instinct in your body is screaming at you to get out of there, that is all.

“It’s okay,” Bucky suddenly said softly to you, his  blood covered hands gripping yours and you both crouched down in the back seat of the car, “It’s okay, the bullets can’t get through the armor plating.”

His voice is calming to you, he spoke in a low tone and held your hand, tightly. You know he is trying to soothe you through the situation but the blood that covered his face, and the wild look in his eyes, is doing nothing to calm you. It doesn’t stop the panic that is rising in your chest.

Once again your breaths are ragged and escaping you, wrong time to be having a panic attack as you struggled to breathe.

“Bu-Bucky, I can’t breathe.” You gasped.

“Sergeant Barnes, protection subject Aphrodite’s vitals show she is having a panic attack. Immediate action is advised.” FRIDAY stated through the watch you wore.

“Fuck, hey hey. Look at me. You’re fine, I am here, I will protect you. Nothing’s going to happen to you.”

Bucky looked up through the splintered window, he had to assess an escape route for the two of you. Right now, you were sitting ducks and there could be more Hydra operatives on foot on their way here. His eyes moved over the terrain quickly, A coffee shop, an apartment building, a massive office building. He had to get you off the street and into one of those buildings and then he sees them.

Twelve men rushing towards the car decked out in full tactical gear. AR-15’s, kevlar vests, black masks that covered their face. He didn’t need to think twice to know who they were or who they worked for.

All he knew was that he needed to get you out of there, now.

His training kicked in, and he shifted his mind moving into battle mode.

“Steve, I am moving her. ETA?” Bucky said touching the comms in his ear.

“Negative, we’re exposed. At least a dozen hostiles excluding the sniper, AR-15’s, full tactical. I stay here, we die.”

At that admission, you whipped your head towards Bucky, eyes wide with fear. You weren’t ready to die, not like this at least, panic rising even further in your chest.

“Do you trust me?” Bucky said in a low voice, gripping your arm tighter, his blue eyes searching yours for the trust he seeks.

You just nodded, and with that, Bucky pulled you towards him, holding you close to his chest and kicked open the back door of the car. He slid out, hauling you with him, his glock in one hand, raised and clocked, and the other arm around you holding you close.

You clung to him, your nails practically digging into his clothes, your hands ached from how hard you were holding onto him as your eyes darted around the area looking for the attackers. Bucky cursed under his breath, kneeling behind the car with you. The asphalt feels hot on the skin of your legs as he slowly begins to move the two of you.

Crawling behind the armored car, you hear the sound of more bullets hitting the metal and you open your mouth to scream but Bucky quickly covered it, his blue eyes meeting yours and he shook his head to silence you.

“I need you to be quiet, okay?” He murmured, “When I tell you to run, you do it.”

“I can’t.” You whispered in terror, feeling paralyzed. You hung onto him, not wanting to leave the safety his arms were bringing you at that terrifying moment.

“Listen to me, sweetheart, I need you to follow my instructions, okay? I am going to get you out of here, but you have to trust me.” He said, his voice is low, but firm.

“No, no, please don’t make me do this.”

More gunshots are fired and there are shouts, Bucky glanced over the top of the car and he sees the assailants drawing closer. The two of you were running out of time.

Where the fuck was Sam and Steve.

“You have to go, now.” Bucky urged you, he pushed you in the direction of the nearest building. A bistro which was obscured by the truck which was parked in front of it, it gave him the perfect eye line to see you escape, and also hid you from the attackers, “Please, I need to keep you safe.”

“What about you? I can’t leave you.”

Bucky flashed you a reassuring smile, “I’m the god of war, remember?”

Even in the midst of all this chaos, Bucky smiling at you somehow sends an injection of calm through you and it was like you could move again. Nodding at him, you sucked in a deep breath and steadied yourself a little, Bucky gives you the signal, and you break out into a crouched sprint across the sidewalk.

Just as you enter the bistro you see Bucky stand up and face the attackers, multiple gunshots going off all at once before strong arms closed around you, one hand over your mouth to silence you the other around your waist lifting you off your feet and you screamed.

~~~

Bucky Barnes prided himself on self-control because half of his existence was spent being controlled by someone else. He couldn’t control when he ate when he slept, where he walked, how he spoke. He controlled nothing about his being.

So when his freedom was handed to him, Bucky prided himself on being able to give and take that control as he pleased.

He prided himself on the control he had in his job, that was the ultimate trust the people around him had given him.

So when that controlled slipped the moment he walked into that tower, blood and grime covered bellowing orders at the strike team, Steve Rogers his trusted best friend knew that this meant more to him that just a job.

“Buck,” Steve said softly, firmly placing a hand on his friend's shoulder.

“What?” Came his snappy reply.

“Take a breath, she’s alright.”

Steve’s words seemed to penetrate his mind and settle under his skin, Bucky took a deep breath to calm himself down. That morning had been one from hell, and Bucky needed to reign in his anger and focus on the real problem here.

How the fuck did Hydra get her that package and know their route.

“Where’s Tony?” Bucky asked, “I want to know how that package got to her?”

“He’s in the lab, Banner and Sam are there too.” Steve was already walking in that direction, Bucky immediately falling into step beside him. There were quick glances and soft murmurs passed through the agents on the floor as they blew passed them.

Bucky’s visage was terrifying, Steve noticed this immediately. Everyone skittered out of his way as they marched towards Tony’s lab. Some even averted their gaze, Bucky Barnes was a terrifying man when he was in a mood, even more so covered in blood and grime, funny enough none of the blood was his.

Steve walked into the lab a few feet behind Bucky, who interrupts the conversation between Tony and Bruce. He slammed his hands down onto the table and hunched down before looking up at his fellow teammates.

All three men turn towards Bucky and Steve, their gazes flitting from Steve’s concerned expression to Bucky’s thunderous one.

“Anyone want to tell me how the fuck that package got through our security at her lab?” Bucky demanded, in a deadly low voice.

Tense looks are exchanged between the three men, none of them have an answer yet. They scoured every inch of the lab and reception, and were currently running through the security footage, but had come up with nothing. It baffled Tony especially because no one and nothing got past his security.

“We are running through all the footage, hopefully, there’s something we missed,” Tony said.

“We have searched every inch of that lab, and the surrounding floor. We will find something.” Steve said, with an assured nod.

“Nothing on the individual who delivered the package?” Bucky asked turning toward Steve.

Steve shook his head, “We must have missed something.”

“No, there’s a mole. That’s the only way.” Sam interjected all of them turn their gaze towards the Falcon. His expression is hard, a frown on his face as Sam looked at the file before him.

“What do you mean?”

“How is that possible?”

“We vetted every person who has been in contact with her this past couple of weeks.”

Sam nodded slowly, and tossed the files onto the table, “Exactly, there are only six people who know every single move she makes, Bucky, Steve, myself, Arcas, Achilles, and Dionysus.” Sam laid a finger on one of the files, “I know I didn’t leak anything, Steve and Bucky you two are too righteous to pull that shit, so that leaves us with our three other trusted agents.”

“Motherfucker.” Bucky cursed picking up the files of the three agents and clenching them tightly.

“But how? It’s not possible.” Steve said shaking his head, “We ran every single check on all of them, they are the highest ranking security in our protection detail program.”

“Maybe Hydra got to one of them?” Tony suggested.

Bucky stopped listening to his teammates for a moment and looked at the files in his hand, he flipped through the pages, scanning every detail in the files, searching for something that he might have missed and he finds nothing. This bothers him, he couldn't understand it, there must be something he missed, there has to be.

“Figure it out, now.” Bucky said in a demanding tone, “Until then, no one is around her unless it's myself, Sam or Steve. She stays in the tower, I want Astro mode around her at all times, I don’t give a fuck if she feels like a prisoner, she is our number one priority as of this moment forward, got it?”

All of them nod, no one is about to argue with Bucky, especially not when he uses that demanding tone of his. Bucky Barnes may have been a Hydra weapon all those years ago but today, he is one of the foremost Avengers and his teammates listened without hesitation when he gave an order.

But his control was slipping all of a sudden, and Bucky felt terrified for a moment.

~~~

Helen Cho is speaking to you in a soft voice, but you aren’t listening to her. Instead, you stared down at your hands, blood covered and dirt stained and just felt numb.

It had been Arcas that had pulled you out of that coffee shop and to safety, you had no idea if Bucky was okay but they had assured you he was. Helen immediately gave you a calming sedative when they brought you to her lab, she checked you for any severe injuries and when she found none she tried to speak to you about the attack.

“Y/N?” She said frowning at you.

You finally looked up at her and shook your head in confusion, “Sorry what?”

“I asked if you want to go and shower?” She repeated.

“Yeah, yeah…” Your voice trailed off as you looked back down at the blood that covered your clothes, staining the white lab coat you wore, a scarlet red. Your skirt was ruined and half your face and neck were sticky with blood.

“Captain Rogers will escort you to the residents level, okay?”

You just nodded numbly and hopped off the bed you had been sitting on. Your legs felt a little wobbly and unsteady from the sedative but Doctor Cho gripped your arm to steady you, she gives you a reassuring smile just as Steve walked into the lab.

Steve didn’t say anything to you at first, he waited by the door with his hands crossed in front of him and just watched as Doctor Cho took off the lab coat you wore and handed you a bottle of pills.

“Anti anxiety medication.” She smiled at you.

“Thanks.” You mumbled closing your fist around it tightly before walking over to where Steve stood.

Steve gives the doctor a quick thank you nod before he scans his badge on the system, and the door slides open. You walked out first, with him falling into step beside you. Steve walked you in silence to the elevator, his eyes cautiously trailing over your face every few seconds as you fidgeted with the watch on your wrist.

A nervous tick you had was to fiddle with whatever you wore on your wrist which, lately, had been that watch Bucky had given you. Despite the sedative that you had been given, your nerves were shot to shit, and you felt more anxious than you ever had before.

The whole ordeal that morning had almost cost you your life and, worse yet, it could have cost Bucky his. You knew he was your protection detail, it was his job to do so, but the thought of him being your human shield, or giving his life to save yours didn’t quite sit right with you. Even though you were still pissed off at him, and he worked on your nerves more than anyone else on the planet did, you felt a tinge of guilt for not thinking about what he must have been feeling at that moment.

As you and Steve walked into the elevator and stood side by side you finally spoke up, breaking the silence.

“Is…” You cleared your throat, hesitating for a moment, “Is Bucky okay?”

Steve looked surprised that you had asked but he quickly hides it before answering, “Yeah he is fine, pissed off, but fine.”

“Pissed off?”

“Yeah, Bucky doesn’t like when things don’t go according to plan.”

“Like assassination attempts on his protection detail?”

“Sure,” Steve smiled at you, “but he’s fine, don’t worry about him. He’s a trooper.”

“Oh, I wasn’t worried, I was just thinking if something happened to him I’d have to get another bodyguard I’d have to hate, and the thought of that exhausts me.” You said quickly trying to play off your concern as irritation rather.

This made Steve laugh, he tilted his head back and his laughter sounded through the elevator. To your surprise you found yourself smiling at this, Steve seemed to have a calming effect on you. And you decided you liked him, for all the pompous patriotism, Steve Rogers was a decent guy.

~~~

“Shower has everything you will need in it,” Steve said pointing to the door on the other side of the spare bedroom he had led you to, “There are clothes for you on the bed and if you need anything else just ask FRIDAY.”

“Thanks, Captain Rogers.” You said.

“You can call me Steve.” He flashed a smile at you before he nodded and walked out of the room, shutting the door behind him.

Once he is gone, you walked into the bathroom and slowly began to strip out of the bloodied clothes you wore. Your body ached for some reason, must have been all the stress. As you pulled off your shirt, you hissed in surprise when you look at yourself in the mirror and see the angry bruises already forming from where Bucky had shoved you down onto the seat to protect you. The bruises trailed along your upper arm and shoulder, clear bruises where his metal appendage held on too tightly.

Your reached up and ran your fingers over the bruises wincing when you poked one of them too hard, and pain lanced through the area.

You sighed deeply and closed your eyes, taking several deep breaths. The cold feeling in your stomach hadn’t left you yet, this anxiety that was currently plaguing your mind was grappling with your sanity as you tried to process the attempt on your life.

Feeling tears prickle in the corner of your eyes, you squeezed them closed a little tighter forcing mack the tears. You weren’t going to cry, no, you had to woman the fuck up and take the hits that were coming your way like a champion. This was what you signed up for, you knew this was going to happen and you had to face it head on. When you opened your eyes again, you sucked in a deep breath before moving toward the shower. You turned on the water and waited for it to heat up, then got in.

You felt relief seep through your aching body as the spray of hot water cascaded over you. Looking down at the water on the floor, you watch as it changed from clear to stained red as the blood slowly washed away from your body, disappearing down the drain.

A few minutes of just standing beneath the water and you finally mustered up the strength to use the body wash to rinse away the rest of the dirt from your body and shampoo your hair.

Once you got out, you patted yourself down with a towel from the rack and wrapped it around your body before walking out of the bathroom. You were so preoccupied with your own thoughts that when you walked back into the bedroom, you hadn’t seen Bucky sitting on the edge of the bed, and when you finally looked up and saw him a terrified scream escaped your throat as you stumbled back in fright.

“Oh, shit, fuck. My bad, sorry, sorry.” He said quickly getting up, he started towards you but stopped short when he realizes you’re naked and scantily covered by a small towel.

“Jesus H. Christ, Bucky!” You exclaimed the watch on your wrist going crazy as your heart beat spiked.

“Sorry, I should have knocked or something.”

“You think?!”

“I...I just wanted to see if you were okay and if you needed anything.” He explained running his hands through his hair, he seemed nervous or agitated, you couldn’t tell.

“I could be better.” You shrugged and winced when pain lanced through your shoulder at the movement. Bucky notices your wince and he frowned before his eyes traveled to your bare shoulder and he sees the bruises on it, along with the ones peppered on your arms.

His eyes almost bulged out of his skull, you watched as his whole body tensed up and he clenched his jaw, his hands balling into fists beside him.

“Did I do that?” He asked slowly.

“Do what?” You asked in confusion as he approached you.

Bucky reached up and brushed his fingertips against the bruises on your arm and you realized what he was talking about.

“Oh, yeah, it’s fine, don’t worry about it. I am fine.” You waved him off and turned away quickly, walking over to the bed where you took a seat.

“I am so fucking sorry, I wasn’t thinking-” He began to say but you shook your head vehemently at his apology.

“Bucky, I am fine, don’t apologize, you were doing your job.”

“I...fuck...it won't happen again.” You could almost hear him beating himself up inside for hurting you, and you can’t help but feel a little guilty. So you shake your head again at him and give him a smile.

“I’m okay, Bucky, and that’s all that matters.”

“I know, I don’t know what I would have done if…” He stopped himself before he finished that sentence, the two of you lock eyes for a moment. Your heart was beating slow and hard as you looked at him, the way he stood before you, tall and assertive, those starlight blue eyes filled with remorse.

And suddenly all you wanted to do was hug him, and tell him it was okay.

What the fuck? You thought to yourself, shoving those thoughts aside and quickly getting up.

“Well, can you get out so I can get dressed? I mean unless my protection now requires you to watch me naked as well?” You said clearing your throat.

“Oh, right, sorry I’ll leave you to it.” Bucky chuckled and quickly walked towards the bedroom door.

“Bucky,” You said and he immediately stopped in the doorway though he doesn't turn toward you.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you, for saving my life.” You said softly.

And the look he gives you over his shoulder almost has your heart falling out of your body, the soft half smile and the twinkle in his blue eyes,

“Always.” was all he said before he walked out and closed the door.

[blinkingstardust]

thinker

[tw: death, suicide? idk how tws work]

i'm a thinker, so i used to think that thinking is the solution to just about everything.

it makes sense. the more you think, the sooner you'll find a solution that makes sense, a solution that has most pros and least cons, a favourable solution. and most of the time people end up in a completely horrible situation that could've been avoided, had they choose to stop for a moment and think out the entire situation. then again, for people who aren't just natural thinkers, like i am, they'd say that "everything is easier in theory than in practice," which by theory i am sure is true, but i have never tested myself in practice.

then again perhaps that is also the case when it comes to these seemingly avoidable catastrophes in life—perhaps it is because i have never faced such a conflict, that i have never for a moment believed that not everything can be solved with thought. i'd like to think that it's the reverse—i have never ended up in such situations because i use thought, but even i know as a thinker that the theory isn't valid; so much factors come into play in regards to how irregular, out of the ordinary situations occur in our lives. in other words, there are many external factors contributing to the situations i end up in, not merely my thought processes.

so my current stance in life seems to be that i just haven't been hit with a large enough force to truly test the hypothesis that problems can be avoided by thorough planning. regardless, being the semi-realistic person i am, i spend my life planning to avoid these so-called disasters. i learn about everything—from science to humans, to understand the things that pose as risks into my life, so that when the time comes where i have to face something threatening my safety, i'd be able to fight it off. i know how to spot the right people to hang with, so i don't end up being betrayed or being heartbroken by some worthless man. i know what to do to prevent common diseases, and i know to resist impulses such as binge shopping, so i can save money, and drinking, so i don't die early in life. most of all, i learn how others live, so i won't have to repeat the same mistakes people made. and in comparison to these lives i've read about, 17 years is a considerably long period of time to have lived without facing a major disaster caused by my lack of thought.

i'm not quite sure, though, whether 17 years is an extremely late period of time to realise that i haven't been alive at all.

according to some accounts of science, you begin to die right after birth. biologically, the average lifespan of our cells is about 7-10 years, but the shortest lifespan of a cell in our body can be about mere hours. scientifically, the official age our bodies are considered to start dying begins at 25, because before then the rate of cell growth exceeds cell death. by this standard, me being at the age of 17 means that i haven't officially started dying. 

but lately, it's been starting to feel a lot like i'm dying, even to a physical extent. and it has little to do with the coronavirus lockdown. in almost every aspect of my life i'm doing fine—i have no major health issues, i have a pretty content family, a decent amount of friends to rely on, grades that i can get by with, and beginning recently, regained freedom to roam around the country, meaning a nice, independent life. with the gadgets i have and the money i save, i have enough to entertain myself during the holidays. but even so, it feels so empty. i spend my days lying on my dorm bed, which feels so much more like a deathbed these days, thinking of how to remain alive, but not doing any of the things i know i should be doing.

and by this i mean: i should be cleaning my room, at least once every two weeks, windows opened, laundry done, taking care of my hygiene, and subsequently, my health. but i haven't touched the vacuum cleaner in two months, the furniture's piled with dust, as if no one's lived in the room for years, the laundry basket overflows with clothes worn without being washed in weeks, the window never being opened that it's killed even my resilient succulent, the bedsheets as it were months ago, never been changed. by this i mean: i should be taking care of my food intake, eating as much vegetables and fruits, taking vitamins, and watching my carb intake, exercising regularly and sleeping at the right time to maintain not just my physical, but mental health as well. but i order takeout every other day, and when i don't, i eat instant, processed food, consume an abnormal amount of caffeine and milk day and night, never touching the vitamins placed on the nightstand right next to the bed, eating too much at once then some days, not at all, sleeping more than half a day then, in a day, less than three broken up hours of sleep, and when awake, never moving the body other than to go to the toilet. by this i mean: i should be maintaining an active daily routine through which i continue to pursuit mental challenges, and artistic endeavours to keep my brain alive, making use of the free time i have to take some classes to reduce the study load of the future, to read the books i don't have time to read in school, to write stories of ideas i think in the shower, to sing and dance, and even rap, the songs i listen to daily, to draw the people i love, to speak of the things people need to hear, to even design a house, or dress up avatars, feeding off my favourite aesthetics, anything to keep the brain alive. but i do none of these, even when i have my laptop, my ipad with the corresponding apple pencil, my papers and pens, my phone, my newly and impulsively bought nintendo switch, my books, all placed around me, i don't make an effort to open the apps i need, don't make a single effort to use my brain, use the creativity, and keep it running, instead i lie on my bed for hours, just thinking, thinking of what i should do and what i shouldn't do and not actually doing it, and looking at the full length mirror next to me and realising just exactly how brain dead i look, and that it's only about time that the body follows suit.

and many of the times i spend just thinking, i find myself conjuring ideas in my head, wishing for myself to be not thinking. i find myself wishing to feel, without thinking of the consequences, without considering all pros and cons of the situation, just going with what i feel. i want to fall in love with the wrong person so wholeheartedly, even if everyone around me argues that said person will inevitably break my heart. i want to go to the club and dance like there isn't a tomorrow, sing my heart out, drown my throat in burning liquor and perhaps in someone's tongue, only to wake up with no memory of the previous night in some good looking stranger's bed. i want to waste my money on a good camera, plane tickets to countries in various continents, take beautiful pictures of the scenery and of friends who may not stick with me for more than a year, and feel the pride off the pictures i take, and have pictures taken of as well so i can post them in my social media and have people see how beautiful of a life i have. i want to be openly rude to people who disrespect others, look down on condescending people, and land myself in prison for confidently leading a movement standing up against prevalent derogatory beliefs, and again for hacking into rich people's accounts to redistribute the wealth. i want to spend the nights in the beach, regardless of curfew, staring at the starry expanse of black, with people i care about and people who care about me, shouts echoing over the deep blue, gathered around the blazing red and orange of the campfire, pouring every feeling we've ever felt, in laughter, in tears, in anger, in fear, as humans. i want to be struck by lightning, hit by a bus, fall from a building, faint from the heat, shot by a bullet, and land in the hospital, few seconds from death, and be given a stronger reason to appreciate the life i have. i want to feel human. i want to live for once.

i keep waiting for something, or someone out there to bring about these changes to me. i'm tired of waiting. i want to start feeling instead of thinking. but as much as i want to do something about it, it's too late—my brain has eaten out most of my heart, and i don't know if there's anything left of it. i can't cause myself to feel anything anymore, the only feelings i feel left are fatigue, tiredness, emptiness. a shell of a human.

i'm starting to think that the only thing that'll end my endless train of thought is when i finally stop breathing—but i don't feel scared. i can't anymore. if anything, i await the day.

—

//broke my writing streak (and, simultaneously, my animal crossing streak, and my normal functioning life in general) and have been so... lifeless in a week so maybe writing this may bring about something

[terrablaze514]

Amethyst Necklace (CIYS Sidestory) *Erik x Reader*

A feature presentation: With Love, From Wakanda (hosted by @hoopshoney and @purple-apricots ). This is my *headdesk* late *headdesk* submission. I'm steadily getting my life back, so all hope is not lost. This is based on the Crawl Into Your Sleep series (there's a time jump). Hope you all enjoy it.

“Are we on a date right now?” (Prompt #4)

Rated M (for brief mentions of violence and attempted assault)

Disclaimer: Black Panther belongs to Marvel. I don't own the other fandom that's mentioned, either.

*******

It's been ten weeks since you've crossed paths with Erik. The first few moments were random, albeit sudden - you still couldn't believe how well that first shopping trip went. The instant messages on your school D2L account, the anxious coffee shop meetup, and a fierce ride in his Mercedes-Benz to hit up the mall did things to you. For the record, his swagger switched your senses on no matter how many times you've tried to avoid it.

The way he'd given Dresden a beatdown, accompanied with his “evil twin” Adonis and fellow trainee Viktor… three versus five grimy trifles had presented a gut wrenching experience. You didn't watch the scene, but the terrifying sounds of breaking bones and curdling screams had prompted a random witness to call the cops, since your trifling ex had the audacity to confiscate your phone. Yet, he had intentions to do a gangbang train on you, so in a sense, it’s a great thing Erik and his entourage appeared on the scene before your ex’s friends had a chance to rip your jeans off at the library parking lot.

~°~°~

Erik also had a strange way of blocking thirsty traps on multiple social media accounts you own, especially Instagram and Facebook. The ladies who interfered with him, M'Baku and T'Challa were also blocked in a flash, and they came banging on your door this one fateful night. Half of them were another set of thirst traps from school; a combination of Churchians and R. Kelly sympathizers. You weren't in the mood for their bull, and proceeded to call the cops when your speed dial activated at the press of nine.

“What's going on?” Erik had asked, the racket downstairs noticeable. His voice never failed to melt you, but there were troubling matters at hand.

“Some angry ladies from school, they're at my house, armed with baseball bats and knives…”

“Okay, don't panic!” He commanded. “Remember that amethyst necklace I bought you two weeks ago?”

You've raised an eyebrow when shattered glass is heard from the living room.

“Y-yes,” you whispered.

“Put it on, and don't forget the mace!”

You did as he told. The beautiful gem hung low on your bust. “So, what difference would a necklace make?”

You could sense Erik's smirk. “Make an X with your arms.”

“An X, what for?”

“Y/N, you don't wanna die! I'm all the way on the opposite side of the city, and it’ll take me an hour to physically reach you. So do as I say, okay?”

Another glass shatter, and the door bangs are even louder and pronounced. Expletives that attacked your character were heard with more clarity.

“Do you believe in Wakanda?” Erik probed, bringing you back to focus.

“I do, but that's-”

An attempted disarming at the front door caught your attention.

“Do you believe in Wakanda, babe?”

You took a deep, albeit shaky breath.

“Yes.”

“Then make an X with your arms.”

Both arms did as he commanded. The gem on the necklace glowed and brightened your bedroom, where you're currently occupied.

“Now break it!”

You did it. Golden flashes zapped through the walls and wires of your house, and ultimately knocked your threats ten feet away from your house. As you exited your room, the voices of angry women were gone. Despite the broken window, the warm breeze engulfed your body. There were no crazy ladies in sight. The only display was a pile of bats, knives and Prada bags.

Another thing that caught your attention were the cars. Most were parked at their usual spots, but only two looked totalled, with broken windows and headlights.

“Wow,” you breathed as you processed this lovely aftermath. “All this unnecessary drama, because of social media. It doesn't make much sense, but it must be a good thing, right?” You poked the gemstone on your necklace. “This thing literally saved my life.”

~°~°~

Your phone and laptop alarmed at the same time. A message had arrived from Erik, encouraging you to change and worry about the house damage later. You've selected your favourite evening combo, along with a hat and silver hooped earrings. White tank top, a short silver jacket worn over it, followed by jaguar designed tights, a black skirt and tall black boots. Erik's car had pulled and he hopped out in an instant, surveying the aftermath of the crazies who came for you earlier.

A low whistle left his lips as you descended the staircase. You couldn't help the warmth rushing to your cheeks.

“Look who's glowing this evening!” he began as he opened the door for you.

“Thank-you,” You replied, settling in and buckling up. “So where are we headed?”

Erik entered his side of the car. “Straight to your necklace.”

You peered at it. “My necklace? Why?”

Erik started the engine and, as the car sped, he held the gem. “Just place your hand over mine.”

This is the second time he'd requested a strange favour from you. Strange in your eyes, because of the necklace. What's so special about it?

There's no such thing as magic in Wakanda.

“It will take forever to get there and back if you don't.”

You rolled your eyes as his dimples complimented his smirk.

“Or should I form an X and knock you out of here?” Your sudden confidence boost didn't go unnoticed. Erik chuckled; he liked it when life didn't weigh heavily on your well-being. It's allowed you to spread your wings. To get you out of your shell more, he’d let go of the gem and kept his eyes on the road. Meanwhile, this didn't help your curiosity.

“Well, which one is it?” You pressed. “What's so special about this necklace?”

“That is entirely up to you to decide, but there's someplace special I wanna take you to.”

You cocked an eyebrow in response, “and this is supposed to help us get there?”

“Depends on what you think. I know its location is several hours away.”

Erik's signature smirk had returned, yet this time, you've also noticed a knowing glint in his eye. You needed answers, and you’re gonna get them now.

“Are we on a date right now?”

Erik chuckled, “Of course!”

“Then why haven't we arrived? And why is this necklace so important?”

Just as Erik entered the freeway, he took your necklace and held the gem one more time.

“Just take my hand and we'll get there.”

Alright, alright. Let's see what this can do.

Without blinking, you held his hand and the scenery changed. You were no longer on the freeway in town - the roads looked more sophisticated with pebble tones. Neon lights shone brightly around the cars that drove now. You’ve also noticed that these drivers, well, the majority, were Black.

Your ride entered a bridge, and as you peeked out your window, the ocean below sparkled like stars. It's sunset time and the hues of orange, bright red, pink and fuschia accented the cascade of clouds in the sky. Birds flew across it.

Your hands rummaged through your purse for your smartphone to take photos of these beautiful sights.

Erik smiled, silently thanking Bast for granting his cousin Shuri the ability to create such technology, and for enabling this Pen Pal Program to happen.

~°~°~

Without missing a beat, you both arrived at your destination a few moments later. Krispy Kreme was the hot spot, and you've noticed multiple people walking in as well. Once the guards had verified your IDs, Erik linked your arm with his as one braided guard escorted you both to the VIP floor.

Upon entry, All the Stars by Kendrick Lamar and SZA played in the background. You both took front row seats. As Erik ordered drinks, a young lady with Bantu knots and a sparkly brown dress entered the stage and made an introduction.

“Good evening everyone, this is our Open Mic Night. Thanks for coming out! So settle in, let go of your worries, and enjoy our relaxed atmosphere. All are welcome to participate - the mic is yours. Poetry, song, storytelling, cypher… is entirely up to you.”

At the end of her introduction, your drinks arrived and a variety of performers, known and unknown to Wakanda, owned the mic. By the time the sixth performer of the night closed her song, a round of applause rolled through the atmosphere. You loved every minute of this so far. The overall vibes were cool and collected, warm and welcoming.

That’s when Erik stood and took your hand, escorting you towards the stage.

“Wha- what are you doing?” you whispered.

“It’s our turn,” he said.

Our turn?

Without hesitation, the crowd whistled and made bullet signs - a sign of respect for the Wakandan prince. A handful of young men hollered, “All hail King N'Jadaka!”

... until another set shushed them.

“So what’s your plan?” You mouthed.

“I paint, you speak.”

Well, if this isn’t nerve-wracking. But, I’m here. So here it goes...

You recalled the day your professor had graded you horribly, then the words came.

“How many more times should I feel,

Misunderstood?

How much longer before the world could hear my plea?

This forged, silent treatment had left me in chains,

Chains of choices, between the innovator and the warrior.

When can I rise? When can I fly? When will it be my turn to spark the flames of positive change?

For a brokenhearted daughter? Or the drifting, confused sister?

Where I'm from, there’s promises of empowerment...

Only to be broken and unfounded.

Then let them take credit, erase your name, your contribution, your standing,

Because your leadership is a threat.

How much longer before I can reclaim my power, spread my wings and fly?

I guess only time will tell.”

At the end of your segment, the audience snapped their fingers, whistled and offered their rounds of applause. You took a bow, and noticed Erik’s completed painting: A group of women, staring out of the jail cell, counting the stars. The bottom part of the picture featured his interpretation of what marginalization and institutional racism looked like, from your eyes.

You couldn’t help the warmth radiating your cheeks. Originally, you liked him. Admired him. Favoured him.

Tonight, you fell in love even more. He gets it.

You returned back to your seats, when your hands caught his face and your lips captured his. Thankfully, no one had noticed. The gem on your necklace formed a shield that barred others from seeing what was happening.

His tongue probed entry, and you allowed it. Although, you’ve noticed something a little unusual. Breaking the kiss, you inquired, “Is that a tongue ring?”

Erik chuckled and smacked your butt. “And what’s so important about that?”

Giggling, you added, “You’re dangerous. Now kiss me silly.”

Your lips locked again.

*******

Taglist: @ljstraightnochaser

@amethystbutterflie

@wakanda-inspired

@eriknutinthispoosy @softnani @princesskillmonger @iamrheaspeaks @muse-of-mbaku @destinio1 @airis-paris14 @blackpinup22 @bribrisback @supersizemeplz @thadelightfulone @epicyaoibamonbear @sisterwifeudaku @myareadinglist @kaytauru @phoenixgalaxy @scrumptiouslytenaciouscrusade @im5ftbutmythroat66 @chaneajoyyy @rayraynddem @cancerianprincess @inlovewithmakeupcomicsanimelove @jozigrrl @itsrenaemf @theogbadbitch @steampunkprincess147 @eyeknowmywrites @annastaia @mbakusmbitch @thehomierobbstark @desertfyre @unholyxcumbucket @kissmyafropuff @forbeautyandlife @lifelover4u @yoyolovesbucky @purplehairgawdess @whoawhoababywhoa @animefun16 @blowmymbackout @itreywalk @msblkfire84 @mellifluousbabe @killuzumakii @hairhattedhooligan @marvelpotterlove @hearteyes-for-killmonger @to-the-water-ixazaluoh @yaachtynoboat711 @faatassbitch

[rotttnapple]

count: 1,692 tw: violence, death (human), blood, guns, swearing, animal upset (no animal injury or death) part 2 | part 3

under a cut for violent themes!

rainbow unicorn space kitten @pohocounty

-

In his dreams the truck engines had been thunder from the storm. Maybe because it was all mixing together – boom, crash, lightning turning night into day and back again, the rain pounding and slashing against the windows, driven by hard gusts of wind. Charley was sleeping good, sleeping great really, for the first time in a while. The goats were secured in the barn and there was no sick youngsters to feed and hold, the crows only wanted to sleep. Dulu near them, a comfort to them, hanging upside down and wrapped up in those great big wings, snoring away. There was a baby monitor on his bedside table, a video camera that switched lazily through the nurseries, volume cranked up high (he'd been awoken in the middle of the night to puppies and kittens, once sick and frail now rambunctious and full of life deciding three in the morning was the perfect time to play, he never minded it). Now the feed didn't switch, just trained on the crow cages where the injured birds rested, Dulu's rough, grunty, snores like a lullaby to all of them. 

It was the crows that woke him first.

Harsh, frightened, coupled with clashing and clanging, thrown toys and beaks smashed against bars (he always felt guilty, caging them, even if it was a just a temporary measure). Charley was awake in an instant, the sleepiness gone. Shoots a glance to the monitor – there's no sound of Dulu's diesel-idle rumbling, but he's not there, either. Even if he had been down in the basement Dulu would have been there in an instant for his beloved birds, there to hold them and soothe them. There's no Dulu and they're terrified. Something's wrong. Something's wrong. 

He's out of bed and kneeling on the floor, dragging the black plastic case from behind the dresser and popping the latches when he hears the scream full of anger and pain. There's no equivalent in human kind, no animal or man or man-made thing could make a sound like that. Charley looks up as the lightning flashes again, framing Dulu against the sky boiling with black clouds, his wings pushing him higher, a thick cable seeming to grow from his chest, taunt as he pulls against some unseen thing. He's read enough about the bastards to know. He doesn't need to see it to know. The shotgun inside the case is loaded, twelve shells of double-aught twelve gauge buckshot all lined up in the tube that ran the length of the long barrel, plus one in the chamber. Charley had it long before he found Dulu all tangled up in that hellish net, bought for the express purpose of keeping those good ol' country boys away, the kind that thought it was funny when people like him got their faces rearranged while pleading for their lives. He had waded through all the bullshit to find out how to use it without blowing his own foot off, but he never actually used it, not liking the sound of guns, too loud and too horrible.

He's going to use it now, by fucking god he's going to use it now. There's human shouts, faint over the noise of the storm and Dulu screams again. It sets Charley's teeth on edge, breaking his heart and filling him full of hatred and rage – not for Dulu, never for Dulu, but for the bastards hurting him. The ones that think it's all right to come onto their land, disturb their peace, upset their sweet pets (he's headed towards the back door, cat eyes staring at him from dark little places), hurt his Dulu. Dulu, who's shown him nothing but kindness. Dulu, who's always been there to keep the monsters away, who's never mocked him for his fears. Charley's just not going to allow these trespassing bastards leave, not a single hateful one. He bursts out the back door – like a bat outta hell – and is almost immediately tossed off the back porch by the wind, bare feet sliding on the rain-slicked wood as he reaches out and braces himself against one of the posts, fighting mother nature with the shotgun gripped in his other hand. Charley gets down the steps without breaking his neck, barely, barefoot with his toes digging into the soft earth as he marches across the yard towards the lights, the shouting. A real imagine of protection, he was, wearing nothing but rainbow unicorn space kitten shorts, already soaked dark with cold rain.

Lightning cracks again and just barely saves him from tripping over a corpse out here on the grass, one arm gone and it's head split open like a rotten melon. He doesn't even stop to look at it, he doesn't care, there could be a thousand corpses on the lawn and he'd climb over all of them to stop the living from hurting the winged man up there in the sky – ohshitwhatifhesstruckbylightning. The truck lights – floodlights, spotlights, all kinds of lights, too many fucking lights when he and Dulu should've been sleeping – are some help in that they throw those bellowing, stupid creatures into sharp relief. Charley gets just a little closer, splattered in mud up to his knees, soaked to the bone, lifting the shotgun up to his shoulder and seating it firmly there, digging his feet into the mud to brace himself as he cocks his head to sight down the line of that long, long barrel. Just like he read how to do it, sets his finger on the trigger and shoots. The mud is slippery as shit and the recoil knocks him right on his ass, ears ringing, a sharp and offended pain in his shoulder. The excited shouts were now overlapped with agonized screaming, someone's legs just got a whole lot of buckshot in them as another voice raises above the others demanding order 'cause they were gonna kill it, gonna end this tonight. Like fuck they were.

Charley rises from the ground like a corpse from the grave, digging the butt of the gun into the ground, clawing, fighting every last bit of the storm and the mud that threatens to throw him down again. He gets up just enough to rack the gun, blowing some other shitfucker away, the wind was probably throwing half the accuracy right to hell but it was still enough to make it a face full. He's growling, deep and dark and animalistic in his throat but he doesn't notice, no more than he notices the pain in his shoulder. They don't notice him, either, the fall of their so-called friends probably blamed on Dulu, they always blamed everything on Dulu, never took half a fucking second to even try to know him. Maybe it was better, they didn't deserve to know him. He sees Dulu – just a glimpse, moving fast and low, avoiding another shot harpoon to snatch a hunter off the back of his truck like a pear off a tree, disappearing against the black clouds. Charley grins with vicious victory, slithering along: hands and feet and shotgun, mud washing off fast as it's packing on his skin. Someone nearly trips over him and gets a belly full of lead for it, tumbling off into the dark. The clearest details are Dulu, when they hurt him, when they tear him up with bullets and flying bolts shot from pneumatic guns attached to long wire cables. Charley doesn't notice the spray of blood in his face, the kick of the gun, how his body is aching from unseen rocks or the sting of hot casings that once landed on him in a shower (took care of that problem real fast, rack and shoot, the thunder overlapping the sound).

Charley doesn't notice when the storm lulls, calms, shotgun empty but that didn't matter at all. He'd come across some country fried fucker laying in the ruin of their yard, alive but dazed after getting tossed out of one of the trucks. Charley climbed up on man (howdarehecomeherehowdarehethinkhecandothis) like a feral animal, reversed the gun, grabbed the hot barrel in both hands and stabbed it through his throat. Charley's turned the gun back around and is mashing the bastard's face into a pulp with the butt of it, words gone into an unintelligible scream of rage that goes on and on; only stopping when Dulu comes and (gently) tugs the gun out of his hands, tosses that aside, gathering him up against his hot skin to limp back to the house. Charley curls up tight against the big old boy's chest, mud-wrecked, bruised and bleeding from a dozen scrapes and superficial cuts, shivering from cold and a protective fury. He wants to tell Dulu that he was worried for him, scared, that the birds are scared out of their minds too, the cats are hiding, the house is in chaos and he was so worried he was going to lose him forever, that he shouldn't be carrying him because he can walk and Dulu's injured and damnit those wounds are going to get infected somehow. Instead he's pressed against Dulu's naked chest, breathing too hard, heart pounding, eyeballing every body they pass, ready to lunge out of those big arms and suffocate any bastard that dare twitch right there in the mud. Charley almost does it, too, before one of those big wings come around and block his view, holding in the warmth that the rain had sapped from his skin.

By the time they reach the house again Charley's sleeping, his body shutting down to recover from the sudden influx of primal instinct, soothed by Dulu's deep breaths, the odd crackle and pop of his body repairing itself all over again. The cats begin to appear from their hiding spaces, tails twitching inquisitively, a few meowing their soft questions, the crows settled, offended but calm. Outside the clouds begin to tatter and pull apart, allowing the sun to begin it's slow and ponderous rise over the earth, heedless of the slaughter below, or the stupidity of the men who caused it.