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crispychrissy · 4 years ago

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Wildfire (6/?)

Summary: Wanda and Y/N discover something unsettling in her memories, and it reveals more about what Y/N went through. Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Word Count: 3015 Warnings: Language, angst, violence, more sciencey stuff, a surprise A/N: I am so happy I was able to break through my writers block and write this for you guys. Wildfire is a personal favorite story of mine, and I love how the story is being weaved together and built. Please let me know if you are enjoying this, feedback gives me the fuel to keep going. :) Below gif is made by me, and this was beta’d by the ever so lovely @saxxxology.

Part 1—Marvel Masterlist

The memory overtook Y/N’s mind, sending her into almost a dreamlike state of consciousness. The room around her melted into the floor, replaced by concrete, glass, and a dusty dirt floor. The acrid smell of blood, sweat, and soot had bile rising in the back of her throat, but she continued to remind herself it wasn’t real, trying to stay grounded and not losing herself to the illusion. Y/N was a spectator now, watching from the sidelines as her memory played out.

“Again!” an accented voice boomed, and even though it was only in Y/N’s mind, she flinched. “Get up!”

“Where are we?” Wanda asked, appearing as a somewhat ghostly apparition to her right.

“This was about a year after I was enhanced, in the training and testing wing of the facility I was held at,” Y/N whispered, wincing in sympathy for her former self when she was punched in the face by the uniformed man towering over her. “That,” she pointed to the man, “is Eli Porter. He supervised most of my training.”

Wanda sniffed in distaste. “He seems like an asshole.”

Y/N smiled. “He was.”

Wanda raised a questioning brow, but Y/N only continued to stare at what was unfolding. There were six men in protective suits in the room aside from Eli, all in various stages of injury, leaving Y/N severely outmatched. Y/N’s memory self dragged herself from the floor, wiping the blood dripping from a gash on her nose with the back of her hand.

“I can’t do it,” memory Y/N growled, clenching her hands into fists.

“And I said I don’t give a fuck,” Eli sneered back. “Do what you're told or I’ll strap you down and let my men do whatever they want to make you compliant.”

“This is when I realized he made a mistake,” Y/N said, watching as her memory self’s eyes widened, realizing Eli had not worn his protective fire-proof suit into the training area like he should have.

In a blur of movement, memory Y/N darted forward and jumped so she could put her hands on either side of Eli’s head. Fire surged in her veins and out of her hands, and Eli screamed when his skin began to blister and sizzle. Flames consumed the man’s head, spreading down his neck and shoulders, igniting the expensive wool suit he was wearing. Y/N released him and stepped back, but by the time the other men in the room realized what had happened, Eli’s head was engulfed in flames, and he took several shuffled steps backward before collapsing.

“Well, then,” Wanda mumbled. “Brutal, but it appears he deserved what he got. This doesn’t seem like—”

“Keep watching,” Y/N breathed out, closing her eyes as the memory shifted.

In a montage of memories, Y/N watched with tear blurry eyes as her memory counterpart was beaten, tortured, starved, and worked within an inch of her life every single day. The punishment she endured for killing Eli lasted over two months, and every day began fresh due to her accelerated healing. The men would take bets on how many broken bones they could give before she’d pass out, or how long it would take her to lose consciousness if her throat was slit.

When they broke her body, they tried to break her mind. The knowledge she would heal allowed her to ignore the pain for the most part, and it frustrated her captors to no end. The scene flashed and changed, showing Y/N’s memory self strapped into a medical chair, wires attached to electrodes stuck all over her head. Her body looked so damaged and frail, and when a man in a lab coat flipped a switch and turned on a strange machine, electricity surged into her head. Her back arched and she opened her mouth to scream, but a mixture of dehydration and scar tissue around repeated cuts on her throat resulted in no sound. Tears flowed from her eyes as the machine powered down, and one of the men walked up, leaning forward to speak to her.

“You belong here,” he told her, “we’re trying to help you. Stop fighting us.”

With a quiet sob, memory Y/N lethargically nodded her head, finally giving in.

It was a weakness she promised herself she would never feel again.

“Y/N,” Wanda said calmly, making Y/N turn away from the horror playing out in front of her to look at the redhead. “You need to relax, okay?”

Y/N looked at her, confused, before she realized her fists were clenched tightly, and there were small flickers of orange flames dancing across her hands. A soft gasp left her lips as she relaxed her hands, snuffing out the flames. “Sorry. I just… watching from the sidelines is different. I still can’t believe I listened to them.”

“They tortured you, not even the strongest mind could withstand that.” Wanda’s attention shifted back to the memory playing out, and a deep frown eclipsed her face. “What are they doing?”

Y/N looked back, watching as one of the white coated men tinkered with a vial of some kind of opaque substance. The memory was fuzzy, like it was being seen through a camera that couldn’t focus, and both she and Wanda leaned forward to try and decipher the writing on the label.

“I was really out of it at this point, don’t remember ever seeing what it was they injected me with.” Y/N sighed, rubbing her temples. “Can’t see something in the playback I didn’t see at the time.”

“Maybe not, but I can try to clear it up a little,” Wanda glanced at Y/N, “if you’ll allow me. The eyes register a lot more than the brain can process. All you need is to find the right set of… magical glasses, if you will.”

“If you think it’ll help, please, knock yourself out.” Y/N chuckled, then winced, rubbing her temples again. “Not literally. Please don’t knock yourself out.”

Wanda’s eyes glowed a deep crimson, and she smiled as she began to send wisps of red into the air from her hands. They danced around like sentient tendrils of light, poking and prodding various spots in her memory. When one wisp got close to the area where the doctor was working with the mysterious vial, an inky black puff of smoke appeared and seemed to snap at it, making the tendril retreat.

“Oh, that’s very strange,” Wanda hummed to herself, “whatever is in that vial seems to be pushing back against my magic. Which should be impossible since we’re only in an illusionary representation of your memory.”

A sharp pain stabbed at the back of Y/N’s head, making her squeeze her eyes shut. “Wanda…”

“One second. I’m trying to coax it out.” Wanda continued to focus on the mysterious billow of black smoke that had coiled itself around the doctor holding the vial like a snake ready to strike.

The longer Wanda interacted with the entity, the more intense Y/N’s pain became. When the witch was finally able to touch it with her magic, Y/N screamed and dropped to her knees, clutching her head. It felt like her brain was being burned from the inside, and she began to claw at her hair, digging her nails into her scalp to somehow make the pain stop.

“Y/N!” Wanda shouted, ceasing the use of her magic and rushing to Y/N’s side. Wanda couldn’t see anything actively attacking her, and she tried to stop Y/N’s frantic scratching. “Hey, can you hear me?”

Y/N slumped back, trembling, with tears streaming down her face as Wanda tried to calm her, and neither of them noticed the black smoke slithering its way toward them. The hair on the back of Wanda’s neck stood up and she pivoted on her heel, raising her hands to defend herself against an attack.

“No one escapes the abyss,” the smoky entity hissed, it’s voice gravelly and eerily echoey.

Wanda set her jaw and narrowed her eyes. “Watch me.”

The area was engulfed with a bright red light, and Wanda held onto Y/N as she forced herself and her magic away from the memory. Normally she would gradually remove herself, allowing reality to trickle back in, but there was no choice in this situation. Leaving a memory like this was unpleasant, and she could feel a trickle of blood fall from her nose at the intense amount of mental strain it caused her. As dark splotches began to flood Wanda’s vision, she made sure all of her magic was untainted and free of whatever that entity was before she allowed herself to succumb to the darkness.

Wanda jolted back to reality when she felt something touching her face, and instinct took over as she regained consciousness. She lifted her hand and sent out a burst of magic, forcing whatever was touching her away, fearing it was something malicious from the memory. When she opened her eyes, she realized the something touching her face was actually someone, and watched as a dazed Steve was helped up from the floor by Bucky.

“Wanda?” Steve questioned, rushing back to her side as Bucky went to Y/N.

“There’s… something inside her mind. The… abyss.” Wanda’s eyes rolled back into her head and she went limp in Steve’s arms.

“Shit,” Steve hissed, waving the nurses in before glancing over to his best friend. “Buck? Y/N?”

Bucky’s hands were running along Y/N’s arms, legs, and head, checking for any open wounds or broken bones with military precision. “There’s blood coming from her ears, but she looks uninjured. Well, no physical injuries, at least.” The nurses took over, also looking for injuries, and Bucky slid backward to allow them to work.

“What did Wanda say to you, Cap?” Bruce asked quietly, kneeling down next to Wanda and helping Steve shift her onto one of the collapsable stretchers he removed from his medical kit.

Steve let out a long breath of air, slumping back onto his bottom. “She said there’s something in Y/N’s mind.” Steve glanced behind him at Bucky helping the nurses shift Y/N onto the stretcher, and lowered his voice. “The abyss?”

“Doesn’t ring any bells.” Bruce shrugged, hooking up a small portable set of vital monitoring machines to Wanda. “Wanda’s stable, just unconscious. If I had to guess, she overexerted herself.” He looked over his shoulder at Y/N and the nurses lifting her onto a similar stretcher as Wanda’s. “Marlene, make sure you take her for a brain scan right away. I may not be a medical doctor, but even I know blood dripping from someone’s ears is never a good thing.”

Marlene nodded and with help from the other nurse, they lifted Y/N up and carried her quickly from the room.

Bucky studied Y/N’s bloody ears as the nurses walked past him, and he shivered as he was assaulted with a flash of his own memory. Zola’s face studying him, injecting him with things, and electrodes being placed on his head before a mind numbing amount of pain shot through him. He remembered looking at his reflection in the mirror once they got back to the Army base camp in Italy, noticing the dried blood that had come from his ears.

“Yeah, never a good thing,” Bucky muttered, and when Steve looked over at him with deep concern on his face, Bucky managed to give him a soft reassuring smile. “Just remembering what happened in Kreischberg,” Bucky tapped his ear with his finger, “I’m good.” Steve’s frown remained, and Bucky rolled his eyes. “Really, pal, I’m fine. I’ve remembered that one before.”

“Cap, a hand?” Bruce asked, crouching at the front of the stretcher.

Steve leaned forward and took a hold of the bottom of the stretcher, lifting Wanda once Bruce counted to three. Bucky led the way as they carried her out of the room and down the hallway. Once they reached the medical wing, Tony and Natasha, who were standing outside the MRI room, joined the group.

“What the hell happened?” Tony asked, frowning at Wanda’s unconscious form as they continued down the hallway and into an empty room.

“Wanda was trying to help Y/N remember more of her captivity and figure out why she can’t get a read on her mind, so she did the mind meld thing she did with Bucky when he first got here.” Steve ran a hand through his hair. “Before she passed out, Wanda said there’s something in Y/N’s mind. Called it the abyss.”

“Hmm,” Tony tapped the side of his glasses, “FRIDAY, run a search on the abyss in relation to Hydra. Any files come up?”

“No, boss,” the AI replied, “the only results I found are excerpts from private journals of Hydra officers. They are all personal reflections about their plans to ‘send SHIELD into the abyss’.”

“That’s because she’s not searching for the correct term,” Bucky chimed in with a shaky voice, moving toward Tony. “It’s not spelled a-b-y-s-s like the word, it’s an acronym. A-B-I-S.”

“FRIDAY?” Tony prompted again.

“Found it,” FRIDAY announced. “ABIS: Autonomic Brain Infiltration Substance. Records are limited, but it appears it was created under the scientific human experimentation umbrella of the Winter Soldier Project.”

All eyes snapped to Bucky, and Steve took a hesitant step forward, waiting for him to explain.

“It, uhhh, it didn’t work on me, which is why they went with the brainwashing.” Bucky’s metal arm whirred as his hand closed into a fist. “I don’t know what it was made of, but it was designed to strip you of your free will. The doctors kinda explained some of how it worked when they didn’t think I was listening. Not only does it block you from making your own decisions, but it also blocks anything external that tries to affect you and if someone tries to remove it, it fights back.”

“Which is why Wanda couldn’t see inside Y/N’s mind,” Steve realized, looking over at Bruce. “Did any of her tests show this thing inside her head?”

Bruce looked up from the monitor he was studying, shifting uncomfortably at how close Natasha was leaning over his shoulder. “I’m looking back through her scans right now. Everything looks completely normal. So either it doesn’t block medical equipment, or protected itself from discovery by projecting a fake result of the scan.”

“Can it do that?” Natasha asked, looking between Bucky and the scans up on the screen.

“I don’t know.” Bucky had more of his own questions than answers for everyone else, but he knew the amount of pain he was in for weeks after they injected it into him. “It never worked on me, and I don’t know why. Maybe it can only latch onto enhanced people?”

“We’re both enhanced, Bucky,” Steve reminded him.

“Yeah, but by chemicals. I’m talking about inhumans, the ones with dormant abilities that are activated.” Bucky turned toward Bruce, and gestured to the doctor. “You said it yourself, Banner, she has mutated DNA, just like the inhumans that began to pop up everywhere a few years back. What if they used the Power Stone to trigger her mutation?”

Natasha’s eyes widened, even though they were full of sadness and sympathy. “And when she resisted, they used this ABIS thing to try and control her.”

“They did say it was going to be more effective and faster than brainwashing,” Bucky growled, “and I bet she didn’t even know it was inside her.”

“She didn’t.”

Wanda was sitting up in the hospital bed, her eyes unfocused as she slowly blinked at the small group standing in her hospital room. Everyone, aside from Bruce, rushed toward her when they saw she was awake. Wanda’s hand was shaking as she gripped the rail of the bed and lifted herself up into a sitting position.

“Easy there, witchy woman,” Tony gently urged her to lay back down, “you need to rest.”

Wanda slumped back, breathing heavily at how fast the small amount of exertion exhausted her. “Y/N?”

“Unconscious, but aside from some bloody ears, appears unharmed. We’re giving her an MRI right now.” Steve sat down in one of the comfy plush chairs next to her bed. “What happened, Wanda?”

Wanda took a deep breath and closed her eyes, retelling her experience with Y/N in her memory. Everyone showed some form of anger or outrage when Wanda explained the amount of torture Y/N endured after she killed Eli, and when she began to explain the strange black substance in a vial, Bucky cut her off.

“That’s it, that’s what the ABIS looked like.”

“It talked to me,” Wanda whispered. “Told me ‘no one can escape the abyss’ before I forced myself from her memory and mind.”

“Ouch,” Bucky winced in sympathy, having seen the toll it took on her when she’d had to do a quick mental extraction like that before. “You gonna be okay?”

“Yeah,” Wanda smiled. “Just need some rest. But what do you mean ‘that’s what it looked like’? Have you seen it before?”

“ABIS is an acronym, A-B-I-S. It stands for Autonomic Brain Infiltration Substance. They tried to use it to control me when I was the Winter Soldier. It didn’t work, and they resorted to brainwashing.” Bucky shook his head. “Apparently they kept what was left, or still had the recipe somewhere to recreate it.”

“I’m sorry, guys, I’m not strong enough to poke around and get you more answers,” Wanda rasped, eagerly taking the bottle of water Tony offered, chugging half of it in seconds. After she recapped the bottle, she sent Tony a sympathetic look. “But I do know who is.”

“Aw, hell,” Tony sighed, throwing his arms up in the air in exasperation. “Here we go.”

Steve grinned and looked toward the ceiling. “Heimdall! Can you please let Thor know we are requesting his presence?” Steve sighed. “His and Loki’s.”

***

Marvel Forevers [3 SPOTS OPEN]: @princessmisery666 @tardis-auto-pilot @feelmyroarrrr @idalinette @kassablanca13 @superlockedtimelord @voltage-my2dlove @agentstarkid @amandatar-06 @mizzezm @holyfuckloueh @spn--imagines @fanfictionjunkie1112 @wish-i-had-something-better @kittenofdoomage @growningupgeek @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan @cake-writes @captain-kelli @zoerayne2426 @sadwaywardkid @sunlightdances @buckyland @kentuckybarnes @justagirlinafandomworld @cosicas-cuquis @cravingmarvel @straightforwardly @beccaanne814 @hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall @walkingchemicalfire @rhymesmenagerie @hina-chans-stuff @supernaturaldean67 @idjitmonkey @crushedbyhyperbole @xxloki81xx @blue-like-barnes @rainbowkisses31 @learning-howto-be-myselfx3 @flyingcannoli @reapersan @previouslyforgotten @thefridgeismybestie @hawksmagnolia @zpandaqueen

Wildfire Tags: @eliza5616 @bitchwhytho @waywardsistersandpie @tofeartheunknown @ayannaboo1111 @nerdwholikesword @nerdgirljen @eileenalone @awaywithtime @winchester-wifey @fuckinherondale

#wildfire #part 6 #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #series #marvel #mcu #wildfire series #enhanced!reader #project wildfire #mild angst #more revelations #fire #fire enhanced

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elldell1204 · 4 years ago

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Nightmare - Upstead Fic

This is my first Upstead fic, so I really hope you like it as I am so proud of it 😊 It’s starts towards the end of 7x09 and is an alternative, more tense ending to the actual episode/storyline, in my opinion. Enjoy!

wc - 3,688

“Angela.” It was almost a whisper, that’s how dry his throat was and how weak he had grown over the last twenty-four hours of almost constant beatdowns. Not only did Jay have to deal with the physical torture, but the mental one too. Every moment that led up to where he was right now was being replayed in his head, seeing as he has nothing more to do. Being the type of guy who always tries to find a way to improve himself in every way possible, he’s picking apart each second, imagining the hundreds of different ways things could have gone differently if he had just let the call go to voicemail, told his partner where he was going, gone in with backup, heard the guy’s footsteps behind him, fought him off. Hell, he was even going back as far as to question his quick decision of Marcus West being the one responsible for the murder of two young boys. He sees now though that he was getting too involved, being too emotional, trying his absolute best not to slip into the cold, heartless shell of a man that returned from Afghanistan all those years ago to the point where he went too far and got an innocent man killed.

“Angela.” He tried again, prying the eye open that wasn’t glued shut with dried blood from the gash on his forehead. “Kick one of those pipes over to me.”

The woman that sat slumped against the pipes across from him raised her head. But she didn’t meet his eyes. How could she after what he had just revealed to her? The man before her had murdered her husband, in her mind. And even though her only chance at survival was to work with him, she had absolutely no desire in her heart to do so. He deserved to die, and if that meant that she would too, then so be it. But every time her thoughts ventured there, she reminded herself of her son. He already lost his father, so he needed his mother more than ever.

“C’mon, Angela.” He had managed to free his left hand by now, the ropes that once bound him hanging loose from his wrist as he gestured towards the objects in question. “We gotta work together if we’re gonna get outta here, so you have to kick one over, c’mon, please. It’s the only way.”

It was then she lifted her eyes to his. The dark chestnut pools had lost all life and purpose and were emotionally empty, barring the harsh disgust that was boring holes straight through to Jay’s soul, so deep he could sense it bubbling inside him, the feeling so undeniably familiar, being that he felt it towards himself the night he discovered his mistake, unable to correct it as it was too late.

***

Unbeknownst to Jay, his beloved unit was rallying outside the very building he was being held prisoner in, ready to take down an army if it meant they’d save him.

Voight was dishing out orders to each of them, but Hailey wasn’t listening, not really. She knew she’d do anything to get to Jay, even if it meant going against the boss’ orders or putting her own life in danger. Thoughts of how she could be so stupid to let him go without backup or to get her hopes up that he’d be in the van for the exchange kept swirling around in her brain. But she had to be totally focused on the now. The next few minutes could land anywhere on the spectrum between the most ideal scenario of finding him perfectly okay and finding him in a lifeless heap on the floor. She had to be alert and ready for anything.

That’s why she didn’t hesitate when Kevin hoisted her up to crawl through the vent in the wall.

***

It was now or never. The weaker of their two captors had come down the stairs a few seconds ago, armed with a water bottle and a fresh dressing for Angela’s wound. Now he was knelt down beside her, applying it whilst trying to keep down whatever he had for lunch. It was pretty much useless. She needed a miracle after the amount of blood she had already lost, and still it kept gushing out, even though Jay was pretty sure she didn’t have a much left.

“There you go.” The man announced, getting to his feet but staying crouched.

“Can I have some water?” Jay piped up, adrenaline starting to seep into his blood at the mere thought of the feat he was going to have to pull off.

The man simply looked over his shoulder at the battered and bruised body behind him, showing no objection nor acceptance.

“Please, man.” Jay begged now, his voice breathier to play the part.

The man’s gaze returned and stayed on Angela as he grabbed the water bottle, stepping backwards towards Jay when the harsh ringing of the metal pipe echoed throughout the murky basement as it collided with his head.

After he dropped to the floor, Jay checked he was out cold before sliding the rope, tied to his right wrist, off the pipe. He attempted to get to his feet, but he felt the room spin and decided on crawling until his blood pressure went back up. He once again checked the man was unconscious along with casting a glance over to the stairs to make sure the other guy wasn’t on his was to beat the crap out of him. Satisfied with the answer to both, he searched his victim’s pockets for a weapon of any kind. He found a switchblade, and although he would have preferred a gun, it would have to do. He then grabbed the pipe before crossing the short distance to Angela, kneeling down beside her.

“You did good.” He said, a little out of breath, as he used to knife to cut through the ropes that tethered her to the pipes like he was. The only acknowledgement he got was a helpless whimper and a sad little nod.

“Okay, stay here,” he gave the pipe to Angela, then laid a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “I’m going after the other one.”

And he was up. As stealthily as he could, he climbed the stairs, attempting to stay flat to the wall and out of sight. He could hear the words flowing from the other guy’s mouth, anger lacing each one, along with heavy footsteps reverberating across the floor above him. Then after a deep breath, he emerged, sprinting towards the guy who had his back turned. That was until Jay was about three feet away, when he promptly turned and fought back, blocking the slashes of Jay’s hand with his forearm and landing a punch to Jay’s gut with his other hand. It didn’t stop Jay though, he swung and he swung, and he knew, he knew that he’d have this guy by now if he wasn’t so goddamn weak and in pain.

The guy managed to forcefully shove Jay away from him, long enough to raise his revolver and fire a shot off. A lucky shot. One that ripped through the flesh of Jay’s shoulder like it was paper.

And he screamed.

A guttural scream that resonated from somewhere deep inside of him as the pain ripped through him. He staggered backwards, clutching at his wound whilst the agony set in.

And he was so goddamn close to getting out of there.

“Jay!”

He heard it. And though it was fairly far away, he couldn’t mistake that voice for anyone else’s.

Hailey.

Oh, how he cursed himself for not telling her how he felt before. He knew how unreliable tomorrow is, he’d experienced it first-hand with too many people, yet still he had assumed it was going to come around. Now all he had left to ease the pain of his stupidity was to convince himself that she would be better off without him. She deserves so much better than him. He was a murderer, essentially. And we’re not talking the bad guys, here. Marcus West had been on his conscious since the day he died, and despite the numerous assurances from multiple people that it wasn’t his fault that he died, he knew in his heart that at least some part of it was. He reverted his mind back to Hailey as he waited for the second and fatal shot to come his way. After all, if he was going to go out, he knew it would be a lot more peaceful if his thoughts were filled with bright blonde hair, bright blue eyes that remined him of the sky on the most perfect of sunny days and the infectious smile that could make him feel whole when he caused it.

***

She heard the gunshot. She’d heard hundreds before, but this one, the one that was most likely the difference between life and death for her partner, was the loudest. So loud it made her heart stop and legs go weak at the same time. It felt as if the walls were suffocating her, coaxing her into an unconscious state where nothing was real. Not like a dream, but less of a nightmare than the one she was living in now.

But she clutched onto reality, staying awake and hauling herself back into the moment.

“Jay!” She screamed as powerful as she could, her legs finding the strength to sprint in the direction of the gunshot. It was her only way of telling him that she was there and begging him to hold on, for her.

She needs him alive. She needs him to have her back, in every aspect of life. She needs him to make her smile when everything else seems dreary.

She needs him.

***

“C’mon, pretty boy.”

Jay was only partially conscious as he was half dragged, half stumbling up the steps to the roof. He had no idea what this guy was doing. Why didn’t he just finish him off when he had the chance?

They practically burst through the door and onto the roof, the guy shoving Jay so that he fell to his knees in from of him. He groaned, but still managed to get to his feet, albeit achingly slowly. Turning to face his captor, he was met with the barrel of a gun.

“Who are you?” The man seethed. “You told us your name was Jim, but that girl shouted Jay.”

Jay didn’t say a word. He just maintained eye contact with his one good eye.

“And the way you fought me...I have to give it to you; you were pretty damn good.” The man chuckled sadistically before stopping abruptly. “Which makes it very likely that you’re a cop.”

Jay’s eyes must have flickered, because the man soon cocked the revolver, taking a step forward and urging Jay to take a step back.

“Fuck.” The man grimaced. “I knew it.”

“You’re done, man.” Jay said, seeing his chance to negotiate. “It’s over, you can’t win. So either shoot me and get charged with the murder of a police officer, or let me go. You can escape, if you’re quick, and no one will even know you were here. I’ll tell them your buddy was the only guy and he was the one who shot me.”

He genuinely seemed to consider it, only for a second, before a rage burned in his eyes stronger than Jay had ever witnessed before.

“Why can’t I have both things that I want? You, dead, and escape.” He inched further forward, the barbaric smile returning, and Jay stepped further back. “As far as I know, you fell off the roof trying to let your cop buddies know you were up here.”

That’s when Jay realised how close to the edge he was, and a lump grew in his throat.

***

“Where the hell is he?” Hailey shouted, slamming her hands down on the table beside her. The rest of the unit, which had recently regrouped after sweeping the warehouse, flinched at the loud bang but understood her frustration as they felt it themselves. Hailey found the spot where the gunshot had happened; the blood splatter on the wall tipped her off. The first place she looked was down the stairs, but she had only found Angela, slouched against the wall, and one of the captors, laid out unconscious. But no gun, and no Jay.

“There’s only two exits, and Kim and Rojas have them covered. Let’s do another sweep of the warehouse, they can’t have just disappeared.” Voight ordered, and they all dispersed, except Hailey, who still had both hands firmly planted on the table as she breathed deeply, grasping onto the little composure she had left.

That’s when she realised there were more than two exits. There was one leading onto the roof.

She sprinted off towards the stairs that she’d memorised from the blueprints and climbed them faster than she thought humanly possible. When she reached the roof, she couldn’t help but to throw open the door, her gun raised ready to fire. And as she stepped out onto the roof, she took a split second to thank her past self for taking an extra few minutes to look over the blueprints one last time.

***

Both men heard the door open, only Jay had the advantage of being the one facing it. Which is why he had a few second lead of seeing the flurry of blonde hair rushing out. And also why he had the chance, whilst his captor turned to see what the noise was, to grab the gun and attempt to pry it from his hands. But the attempt was unsuccessful, mainly down to the fact only one of his arms was currently operational, so it resulted in a struggle of tangled limbs and grunts as each man tried to claim the gun as their own. That also meant that Hailey didn’t have a clear shot in fear of shooting her partner.

But suddenly she wished she had taken the chance and trusted her skills when both bodies tumbled off the roof.

She couldn’t move. She was fixed in place in fear of seeing her partner, her best friend, falling to his death. That’s when she heard the crack, the one from the bodies hitting the sidewalk, and it was then that every fibre of her being wanted to shatter. She wanted to fall to her hands and knees and wail and howl until she was hoarse and her tears had formed puddles below her.

But she didn’t. She ran to the edge of the building where she braced herself before looking over, ready to confirm her worst nightmare. And down on the pavement were mangled limbs and spattered blood surrounding them.

And Jay grasping onto a protruding metal pole with his right hand, his body dangling precariously as he grits his teeth to endure the pain.

Hailey couldn’t believe it. She wasn’t religious, but she thanked whoever was looking down right now for the miracle that just occurred.

“Jay!” She shouted, and you could tell she was on the threshold of breaking down from the way even the single syllable she spoke wobbled with unshed tears. She reached down her hand to grab his wrist, but she knew she wasn’t going to be able to pull him up on her own, even if she had all the adrenaline in the world pumping through her veins. “Help! On the roof!”

She screamed it once. Twice. Three times. All the while, keeping her grip on Jay’s wrist as he hung helplessly. But she could tell he was getting tired, and he was already weak to begin with. The next time she spoke she couldn’t stop the tears from falling.

“Just hold on, Jay, please. Please hold on.” It came out almost in sobs, but she was so desperate for him to stay strong that she didn’t care.

“Oh my god, Hailey!” Kevin shouted from the top of the stairs behind her. She heard his footsteps racing across the gravel before he dropped to his stomach beside her and looked over the edge. He didn’t hesitate to grab Jay’s arm, both him and Hailey heaving the man up and onto the roof.

And that’s where he gave up, falling to his back as the agony washed over him in full force, the adrenaline wearing off in its entirety.

“Jay, stay with me. Stay with me.” Hailey cried out, her bright blonde hair and fresh blue eyes as crystalline as the lake on a summer’s day being the last thing he remembers before slipping into unconsciousness.

***

The next thing he knows, the repetitive beep of the monitor and the chemical smell that lingers in the air is what he’s waking up to, along with the warm hand that is interlocked with his own and keeping him close. He flickers open his eyes, letting them adjust to the harsh white light before opening them fully and looking around. His brother is leant against the doorframe, watching him as he stirs before catching his eyes and smiling gratefully. To his right is a mess of blonde hair splayed out over the covers as Hailey rests her head and her eyes. He can tell she’s asleep from her slow breathing, but she looks anything but peaceful. He turns his attention back to Will, who is now walking gently towards him.

“Hey little bro,” he whispers. “You gave us quite a scare.”

“Can’t get rid of me that easily.” Jay quipped, his voice hoarse, managing a small smile.

Will merely smirked before explaining what happened when they got to the hospital, speaking quietly at Jay’s request so he didn’t wake Hailey. Once he was done, he left with a nod and a remark about letting the two lovebirds have some time together.

Jay inhaled and exhaled deeply before gathering the courage to wake Hailey. He ran his fingers through her hair then caressed her cheek with his thumb until she stirred. She sat up, a little disoriented at first but she soon came back to earth. That’s when she realised what woke her, and any remnants of sleep were quickly shaken away.

“You’re awake.” She breathed out, a little disbelieving despite the surgeon saying he was due to make a full recovery.

“So are you.” He smirked.

Silence hung in the air once more, but it was neither comfortable nor awkward. Both of them could tell there were words that needed to be said, but they couldn’t find the right ones. Somewhat luckily, that’s when Voight decided to grace them with his presence.

***

It was a little later now, and Hailey had just returned from work to sit with Jay again. He wasn’t being discharged for a least another few days, much to his dismay, but he was glad that she was there to make the wait more enjoyable. Whilst she was gone, he figured out what he wanted to say to her, the exact words, only when she stepped into the room a few minutes ago, they seemed to escape him. But it was now or never, so he threw caution to the wind and went with what his heart was telling him.

“Hailey?” It was a little louder than a whisper that he managed at first, but she heard and was up on her feet in no time.

“What is it? Are you in pain? Should I get a nurse? Or are you thirsty? I can get you some water…” She was a little on edge. She wasn’t used to seeing her partner, the war vet, the first person through the door, so incapacitated and…weak.

“No, no, I’m good.” He chuckled, and she relaxed, exhaling deeply and sitting down on the edge of the bed before meeting his eyes. He smiled softly, as did she. “You saved me.”

“Well, Kevin was the one to- “

“No, Hailey, you saved me. When that guy shot me, I was so close to giving up. I was so sure that that was it, that I was going to die on the cold, stone floor of a warehouse. But then I heard your voice. It gave me hope, it reminded me I had something, someone, worth fighting for, so close to me that I could hear you. And I was devastated when he dragged me up to that roof, but I knew that you’d find me if I just kept him talking, and you did, and you saved me again. And then when we fell, I grabbed onto that pipe, but I was so tired, Hailey, I didn’t think I was going to keep hold of it much longer. But then you told me to hold on, and I knew that I had to because if I didn’t, I wouldn’t be able to hear your voice again, I wouldn’t see your smile light up a room again or hear your laugh and have it make my day. And I realised, Hailey, that I couldn’t let go, because that would mean giving up on a chance of having the most amazing life with you, and I could never pass that up in a million years. So, yes, Hailey, you saved me.”

That’s when he realised that she had silent tears streaming down her face, but a small smile graced her features.

“Jay…I…” She started, but she too was unable to put her feelings into words, as none seemed to convey the immensity of them. So she leaned down and captured his lips with her own, cupping the back of his head with her hand, kissing him so sweetly and passionately that she poured a thousand words worth of her feelings into that one kiss. It was like everything around them vanished, as if nothing else existed but them. He returned it immediately, holding her cheek in his palm, and they bared their souls, showing how much love they have for one another, and suddenly they both felt utterly complete.

#upstead #jay halstead #hailey upton #jay halstead x hailey upton #upstead fic #upstead fiction #chicago pd #jay halstead imagine #jay x hailey #jay halstead fluff #jay halstead angst #chicago pd imagine #hailey upton imagine #upstead fanfiction #jay halstead fanfiction #cpd 7x10 #cpd 7x09 #hailey upton fanfiction #jay halstead x reader

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ancdtlst · 3 years ago

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Twenty and Eligible

Characters: Leedo x Reader Genre: Drama, Fluff

Description: You and Leedo are best friends in college. You ask him to hook you up with some of his single friends. Leedo secretly likes you and decided to hook you up with friends that he knows that won’t work out. During the last disastrous blind date you went, his friend tell you the truth.

[Warning: This chapter contain slightly strong language, mention of porn, sexual activity and disturbing content that may not be suitable and upsetting for some readers.]

“No! You cannot!”, Geonhak’s voice went another level of octave. He sounds very surprise as he stops right in front you which made you almost bump onto him. You abruptly stops on your track so wouldn’t collide into his hard chest. Oh hell yes, he has one hell hard of chest. You accidentally touched it once but that is not the case at the moment.

“Why not? I’m old enough to date.”, you paused and sips on your coffee, walking pass and leaving him behind. Geonhak tried to collect himself and ran after you. Both of you were waiting in front of the elevator as Geonhak try to persuade you for not doing a blind date, again.

“Fine.”, you paused. “If you set me up with any of your single friends.”, you said and gave him a wink. Dumbfounded, Geonhak followed you getting into the elevator. He felt hot all of sudden and instead of sipping his matcha latte through the straw, he chugged it all in. He definitely knew he would get brain freeze with that act but he did not know how painful and annoying the brain freeze would be.

“Ah, it’s cold.”, he groaned and held on his head, getting brain freeze. The brain freeze is getting painful and he face the elevator wall and leaned against it.

“Of course! It’s ice dumbass!”, you chuckled, followed by Geonhak. Indeed feeling stupid afterwards.

Here you are sitting in a fancy restaurant that Geonhak had booked for you and your date. Since it was a fancy restaurant, there is a dress-code that you will need to follow. You are wearing a black dress. It is a knee length, long sleeve dress with some lacies at the rim of the wrist. This is the only dress you have. Most of time, you are comfortable wearing pants instead of dress and skirt.

After a good ten minutes, a tall man with a bouquet of roses approached your table. His voice was smooth as silk and as he asks for your name. You smile sweetly to him, trying to give the best impression. He return your smile and have a sit across you before giving you the roses.

You are not a fan of flowers but you appreciate his effort so you took it anyways. Just be thankful, dear self. You thought. As soon as he sits, he extend his long arms for a friendly handshake.

“I’m Youngjo, the famous pretty boy, Kim Youngjo.”, it was awkward, right off the bat. However, you did extend you hand for a handshake and introduce yourself. You heard about him before. He is the sweet heart of the music department and your friends were heads over him every time they saw him. They even skipped some classes to see his performance every Friday, it’s the music department evaluation day.

Youngjo was wearing a black leather pants with red roses pattern shirt along with a long black coat. You had to be honest he look so good in that outfit and you lowkey hope everything would go well.

It has been more than thirty minutes, this Youngjo guy keep talking and praising himself. You could not do anything but to eat, drink and listen to all of his self love statements and you mentally face palming yourself. You really wanted to get yourself out from this mess but tonight would be a long one. Instead of cutting him off or listening to his self love compliment, you are imagining yourself beat the shit hell out of him. Even worst, tape that pretty mouth of his and let you eat in peace.

“You know, I was actually so shock when people told me I have a pretty eyes and most of them are women. I mean there’s men too but I’m straight.”, he chuckles as feed himself some pasta. He puts down his fork and pointed towards his eyes. “You see these eyes? Aren’t they shining?”, he asks and you awkwardly nods. Is he serious?!

“I’m sorry if it’s blinded you.”, he said and you laughed. That was a genuine laugh. It was funny and ridiculous in the same time. Actually, you enjoy his company that night because he was fun guy except that he loved himself too much. Though he does not give you any room to talk, you do not mind it all because at the end of the day you already lost interest on him.

Kim Youngjo. Out.

“How was your date last Saturday?”, Geonhak asks, a little excited. You gave him a look before rolling your eyes, sighing heavily as you were reminded to the restless night with Youngjo. It was tiring just by listening to him talking highly about himself.

“He—“, you paused as you pinched the bridge of your nose. Geonhak waited for you to tell him everything. “He never let me talk. I’ve been listen to him speaking highly of himself.”, you huffed. “Overall, it was a boring date.”

You heard he laughed from your side and slap his muscular arms. “You laugh?! It was a torture for me! How is that funny for you?”, you asks, a little bit annoyed with him.

“I kind of— can imagine the reaction on your face that you are giving him.”, he laughed again and you rolled your eyes. His laugh annoyed you and you felt the urge of smacking him but in the same time your energy does not worth on this man. You closed your eyes tightly and tried to suppress that anger of yours.

“…but he was funny and a gentleman.”, you added. Geonhak immediately stop laughing and paid his full attention on you again.

“Are you going out with him again?”, Geonhak asks and you gasp. Your expression are already enough to tell him that you are not going out with him. Never again. Geonhak nods as he saw your expression and he did not say anything afterwards. He pulled out his phone and showed you a picture another friend of his.

“How about this one?”, he asks as he showed you the photo of a ginger haired guy.

“He looks promising.”, you paused. “Wait— is this another date?”, eyes widen, unbelievable. You thought it was only one time. Geonhak retrieved his phone and gave you a questioning look.

“…I’m sure I heard you say to hook you up with my single friends. There’s an ’S’ and that- my friend is a plural.”, Geonhak gave you his signature smile, the mocking smile and not his infamous smirk.

“Why am I even friend with you…”, you muttered under your breath.

“I actually can heard you, you know?”, Geonhak waves his hand in front of you, telling you he actually there as a person not imagination.

“I know, I meant for you to hear it.”, you rolled your eyes. “Anyways, I hope he’s not as weird as Youngjo. That man really gave me bad goosebumps.”, you groaned.

This time it was a casual date and you are grateful that you would not have to wear any dresses or high heels anymore. You are wearing something comfortable and compliment your body line too. You are wearing light blue denim, white t-shirt tucked in your jeans with a khaki knitted sweater and a pair of white converse. Very comfortable for a casual outdoor date.

While you were waiting for him, you scrolls through your social media. When you felt someone sitting next to you, you look to your side and saw a familiar handsome man. You are confuse but not sure how to react.

“I’m Seoho.”, he laughed and offered a handshake. You gasped, realising your mistake for not recognising him. The photo that Geonhak showed he had a gingered hair but right now he has a jet black hair which is actually look very good on him. You took his hand and introduced yourself as well.

His eye smiles are really charming which you indeed fall in love with.

Seoho was wearing a dark blue t-shirt and checkered boyfriend shirt as a jacket which look pretty thick. He wore a dark blue beanie too, to match the shirt he is wearing. First impression of Seoho is nice, well for now.

But damn you were quick to judge this man that early. He is indeed a freak like Youngjo but he was much more worst than Youngjo. You can’t believe he actually nitpicked on everything you ate!

It seems like a nice weather to have a toppokki and you asks Seoho to come along with you. You were about to order another serve of toppokki when Seoho stops you. “A girl shouldn’t eating too much, you’ll get fat easily.”, he said. You are actually dumbfounded but annoyed with his statements. You rolled your eyes, ignoring his bold statements and ordered the toppokki.

You changed the topic into something else, trying to avoid the uncomfortableness. You compliment his fashion style today but got roasted instead, saying that your style look like some old woman. You gasped, surprise. That statement really caught you off guard.

“I think you would be really pretty if you wear cute dress like the girl right there.”, Seoho pointed to the corner of the store where a cute girl with a long hair wearing a really cute pastel pink dress. You gawked and turned your head back to Seoho.

“I’m not comfortable with dress. I think, I’m good with anything wear.”, you sarcastically smiles at him. Trying to not show that you were lowkey salty with his attitude but it seems like he does not realised your sarcasm.

“How old are you anyways?”, he asks and you answered. “Oh.”, he paused. “You look older than you supposed to be. Was it because of your make up?”, he chuckled.

“Oi, you think it’s funny?”, you had enough. You stops eating as you slams your chopsticks on the table and made everyone giving you both a look but Seoho does not seems to bother by it. Seoho lift up his head and gave you his best smile.

“I don’t know, you tell me.”, he said.

“I think this is funny.”, you smirks as you poured the soy sauce you put in a small plate earlier onto his face before walking out from the store, fuming in anger.

“You promise me he wasn’t a weirdo!”, Geonhak covered his ears from the screams he had to endure for the past few minutes.

“I didn’t necessary promise you anything about weirdos.”, his thought slips out from his mouth as his eyes widen when he realised what he said. Instead of covering his ears, he ran for his life.

After the heated argument you had with Geonhak, he finally surrender himself because he was tired of running and you seems still have a lot of energy. He offered to buy you lunch and you agreed. Currently both of you were sitting in a cafe for some drinks and dessert after lunch and again it is Geonhak’s treat. “Are you still mad?”, he asked and you gave him a look.

“Oh I’m dying to kill you.”, you replied. Geonhak says nothing but sit still in front of you as he scroll through his phone but some times, he would steal a few glances at you trying to figure out your mood as you were typing on your laptop, trying complete your assignments.

“Did something happen?”, two familiar voice came and took seat between you and Geonhak. Neither of you says anything which they both came to a conclusion. “Yep definitely something had happen, Keonhee.”, the boy said.

“Was it you, Geonhak?”, Hwanwoong asks and he flashes his smiles at him. Knowing Geonhak, he knew pretty well that this man is capable of pissing people off. Hwanwoong swears, whatever in the older twisted mind is he needs to control it.

“I’m sorry, alright.”, Geonhak finally said. “I didn’t know they would be that weird—“, he paused. “I mean, I knew they were weird but not to the extend that it made you uncomfortable.”

“Wait, what do you mean?”, Keonhee asked.

“He sets me up with his weirdos friends.”, you finally looked up from your laptop and gave Geonhak a death glare, again.

“He what?!”, both Keonhee and Hwanwoong were surprise with the news. “With who?”, Keonhee asks Geonhak this time because he knew Geonhak does not have that many friends. Could it possibly…

“Youngjo and Seoho. His weirdos friends.”, you answered for him.

Both Keonhee and Hwanwoong gasped. Their guts were right. You did not realised that both Keonhee and Hwanwoong were making an eye contact with Geonhak who was sending a secret message about those two.

“…yeah, uhm…they are…”, Hwanwoong looked at Keonhee, asking for some help to cover the older friend.

“Very weird.”, Keonhee adds and Hwanwoong gave him a look. Like he was not expecting Keonhee really stated something that is very obvious. You look at Keonhee and nods. “That’s what I was saying.”

You are currently at Geonhak’s shared apartment with Keonhee and Hwanwoong, hanging out for the weekend. It has been quite a while since you and Geonhak hang out with each other. Keonhee and Hwanwoong were working on their group assignment and definitely does not want to be disturb. It was just a normal weekend where you both watch some movies and play some games before finishing up each other assignments.

You suddenly blurted out on finding another date, as if the previous two did not give you enough trauma for another blind date. Geonhak refuse to let you go to another date and insisted on finding you another date again.

“Not another one Geonhak.”, you groaned. “If I’m to pick a date, I would pick it myself.”

Geonhak jumped off from his couch, overreacting to your reaction. “Hell no. I don’t trust your pick and I will not approve.”, he groaned.

“Hell like I can trust your pick! Your friends were weirdos, Geonhak!”, you tried to reason him out, not wanting to go to another hell of blind date with Geonhak’s friends.

“Fine. These are people from my department. I personally don’t know them and I cannot promise you if they are not weird or not but this would be the last.”, Geonhak said as he gave you his phone and flips through the pictures. You stumbled across the picture of a boy with a heart shape lips.

“He looks manly.”, you showed him the picture.

“Son Dongju. You know him?”, Geonhak asks and you shook your head.

“But I knew he’s Dongmyeong twin brother. Knowing Dongmyeong, I think Dongju would not be as weird as your friends.”, you nods as you continue typing on your laptop, finishing up your report. Geonhak made a face when you are not looking and you absolutely have no idea what he was planning all these time.

You do not know why but you actually not looking forward or feeling excited about this date. You just wear something casual that you would wear when you were with Geonhak, a boyfriend shirt and t-shirt. Usually you would wear a straight cut jeans but today you felt like wearing a long bell bottom jeans.

You heard someone called for your name and when you turns your head you saw the gorgeous man that you have been waiting for, for a date. You stood up and extend your hand for a handshake and he actually took it. “Hi, Dongju,” you smiles.

“I’m sorry I was a bit late.”, his voice was quite deep too unlike Dongmyeong but definitely as deep and Geonhak’s. “Shall we?”, he starts walking without waiting for you in which you are completely fine with it because Geonhak always did.

When you thought this date would be the best out of the dates that Geonhak sets you up, it went south. Son Dongju is not what everyone thinking he is.

Fuming in anger, you punched in the code on the door. As soon as you get in, you slams the door shut and saw Hwanwoong watching the television alone, looking completely confuse with your sudden appearance in their house. He was about to open his mouth to greet you but you stop him.

Lifting up you point upwards and told him you were not in the mood. Hwanwoong nods, saying nothing afterwards but focus on the shows he was watching on the television while you were walking straight towards Geonhak’s closed bedroom.

Keonhee came out from the room when he heard something slams shut and saw you fuming in anger walking towards Geonhak’s room which is exactly next to his. He nods, not wanting to disturb anything that might be happening later and running for his life towards Hwanwoong.

“Wanna bet?”, Hwanwoong asks.

“50,000 won that Geonhak would get on his knees, apologising.”, Keonhee wink.

“Fine.”, Hwanwoong rolled his eyes. “50, 000 won they will starts dating today.”

“Kim! Fucking! Geonhak!”, you practically yelled as soon as you step inside of his room not realising he was actually doing some ‘business’. Geonhak was flustered that he was caught red handed, jacking off in front of his computer while watching some porn.

Quickly, he stood up and pulled his sweat pants up. He was actually shirtless but you could not careless anymore. “You were having a nice time, jacking off at home while you sent those devils to torture me on the blind dates?! What the fuck?”, you threw whatever you could reach in his room to him.

Geonhak slowly walks around the room, avoiding you and the things you have been throwing at him. “Look! I’m sorry but I—“, he could not finish his sentence when you grab his five kilograms dumbbell on the floor and starts chasing him. He quickly jumped over his bed and ran out from his room straight towards the living room where Hwanwoong and Keonhee were relaxing watching their shows until they saw you running with dumbbell in hand.

“Woah— hold on!”, Hwanwoong shrieks and jump out from the couch followed by Keonhee.

“But you what?!”, you yelled again.

“Please calm down!”, Geonhak tried to make you calm down, extend out his hand asking for dumbbell back. “I cannot explain things to you if you are this mad.”, he added.

“You know I would get mad and you knew how crazy can I be when I’m mad! So why bother asking me to calm down now?!”, you said and chased him again. Geonhak retrieved his hand and ran into the kitchen which is a dumb move. There is no more way out, he turn around and sigh.

“Fine.”, he paused. “Please, put that down. I’m sorry but please hear me out.”, he finally surrender and you threw the dumbbell on the ground.

“Explain.”

“You should have told me earlier…”, you finally had calm down as both of you sat on the edge of his bed. Geonhak finally had put on his sweater on instead of being half naked in front of you.

Dongju may be the worst date you have ever had but he had his reason. He was being a total ass while you both went for the date. He ordered only for himself and not for you but asked you to pay it for him which you found it really annoying. Not just that, he was not being the gentleman like the previous dates you had.

Though Youngjo could be annoying because of his self-loving moment but you were actually felt thankful that he was actually being a gentleman, unlike Dongju. If you think Seoho was worst because he was nitpicking you for how you dress, how to eat and how to wear your make—Dongju made it way worst.

He nitpick you at every details that he could get. When you confront him, he could only chuckles and said sorry. He finally told the truth about all these blind dates that Geonhak had set for you. It was all his plans to ruin it or like Dongju said to make you trauma of blind dates. Which is now you actually are.

“I don’t know. Even if I did, I don’t think you would take me seriously.”, Geonhak says, not daring to look into your eyes. His eyes were everywhere but you. You hold his hand next to you and made him look at you.

“You wouldn’t know if you didn’t try.”, you put a little pressure on his arms, reassuring you that you would take him seriously if he would just ask.

“Would you ask me now?”, you asks him. You had to be honest, this is the boldest move you have ever made in your life.

Geonhak’s eyes says everything, he could not hide the excitement and surprise.

“Well, then— would you like to date me?”, he gulped right after he asks you and he could not hide the nervous. You could feel his palm were getting cold because of the nervousness. You smiles and gave a little yes. Geonhak sighs in relief and laid if back on the bed. He never knew how good it felt.

He would definitely told you earlier if he knew.

“Anyways, could you turn that off. It really made me uncomfortable.”, you eyed his computer which was still playing the porn clip that Geonhak was watching earlier.

“Oh shoot! I—“, he stuttered and quickly shut down his computer.

“Sorry that I had to interrupt that.”

Keonhee rolled his eyes and unwillingly pulled out his 50, 000 won before giving it to Hwanwoong. “Thank you for your donation.”, Hwanwoong laughed evilly while Keonhee could only groan after losing some money to Hwanwoong.

“I like it when you lose. Sorry not sorry, Keonhee.”

#oneus #oneus imagines #oneus scenarios #oneus oneshot #oneus fanfic #leedo #leedo imagines #leedo scenarios #leedo oneshot #leedo fanfic

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nattspencer · 4 years ago

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You finally came

Missy x Reader

Summary: The Reader is trapped and can’t see Missy for a lot of months, until the Time Lady can finally find her beloved.

A/N: English is not my first language, therefore I’m really sorry for any mistakes, let me know about them. Writing this was really fun and I had the opportunity to actually talk and meet who requested it, that was really awesome, you are really awesome, so I really hope you like and that this little thing brightens your day.

Warnings: Mental games, prison, lack of freedom, mention of anxiety and depression.

Word count: 2k

Not my GIF

The part you miss the most is the sun. Not only the brightness, the warmth, but also the way it paints the sky in orange and pink shades when it dusk and dawn. You miss the sky too, so gorgeously blue, all tones of it, changing slyly throughout the day, so imperceptive to the busy rushy lives below. You remember just laying for hours in the green grass in your childhood just to see the clouds, all different shapes and forms. Not to mention the smells, the fresh air, the leaves, petrichor. It brought you so much peace and you just miss everything.

It’s just so very dark outside. No moons, no suns, no planets, just the black abism of the universe. It could drive someone mad. Maybe it’s driving you mad, maybe you just can’t see the difference between the telepathic illusions and the reality anymore. Who are you trying to fool? You are mad. Definitely human minds are not made to be frozen in time, or to be tortured by some sadistic maniac, and no, this time you’re not talking about your sadistic maniac, actually, all you desired was to see her face one last time. You’re talking about some other creature, some that you never even saw the face, but it was there, deep on your skull.

Seems ages ago when it all happened. You and Missy were chased by a platoon of Judoon for months, and no matter what you do, they were always there, every time closer to catch the entire TARDIS with both of you inside. It was on one of these times that they finally got you in their hands. The Time Lady had fried the ship’s dematerialization circuit on the last escape and the spare one was a bit too difectful, she then contacted someone on some market that she didn’t have time to explain quite well to you, but of course, it was a trap. As soon as you got your hands on the piece, you were surrounded by Judoon's troops, all you had time to do was to hit her vortex manipulator, before they blocked it. The very last contact you had with her was though the psychic link she held on you.

“I’m sorry Missy, I love you.” Seven words. That was all you were allowed to say until they blocked it too.

There was no escape left, and in a blink of an eye, you were transported to their ship, completely surrendered. Even in such a situation the Time Lady didn’t leave your thoughts, how she could ever live like that, all the chase, all the trouble, there’s no use in both of you getting caught, so you made a decision. She gifted you with all time and space, it’s time for you to give something to her in return. You begged to the rhino creatures to let you serve her sentence, one prison two sentences, quite a good deal to be honest. From far behind you an ice monotone voice agreed, it seemed to be the contractor, all was set to stone.

Since then you live between the stone and metal walls, with only a little barred window where you could see the abism of nothing, sometimes you like to just stare at the little distantes spots of stars and try to connect the dots to form images, it was a good way to pass the days. Lights in the ground made the place backlighted and it was almost a bit cozy if it wasn’t all that existed there. You wish your body was working properly, almost all your metabolisms were frozen in time, probably only your brain were still working to keep you conscious, and it took months for you to relearn how to turn off and sleep but still you miss the taste of food. God, what wouldn’t you give for a piece of chocolate.

As much as sleep makes you forget you’re here and numbs your pain, it also scares you to death. It wasn’t unusual for you to get nightmares, at times it felt that you weren't sleeping at all, the difference between them started to get fuzzy as the days passed by but Missy was present in every single one of them. Sometimes she would just laugh while she breaks all your bones, sometimes she would just spend hours mocking out loud all your flaws, insecurities and talking about how much she contempt you. Sometimes you saw her choking to death, sometimes she killed you, well, this last one stopped occurring these days, maybe they ran out of ideas, there’s a limited amount of ways to kill someone and you think you experienced them all.

However, sometimes you just pretend she was there, plastic and static like a picture.. You would talk to her about your day, your difficulties, just to see another face around helps, especially that one you loved, although an answer never was expected, it reminded you too much about the nightmares. Sometimes you just imagined her laying with you on the floor of your cell and staring at the roof while you remember all the adventures you had with her, all the time and space, all the creatures, all the running and most of all, all your moments together. Even if you were just a casual sex to her, she was way more to you.

Another ordinary day passed by, this time the nightmares were harder then the usual and you were afraid of everything. You would be crying if your tears hadn’t dried so long ago, now you were just writing on the wall, it became quite therapeutic thanks to the chalk you held in your pocket, but you only used it when it was really necessary to write your feelings down, too afraid that it could end when you needed the most. Suddenly a noise was heard and a new shadow could be seen by your side. It was happening again. You didn’t dare to look.

“Y/N?” Missy’s voice called your name and you couldn’t suppress your body from recoling “Y/N!” The sound of her heels getting closer to you was deafening. Your elbows rested on your knees and your hands covered your head turning your body in a tiny little ball of fear. You were ready for the first assault when all it came was a caress stroke on your shoulder, still, you shivered in terror. “Hey baby girl, it’s me, it’s just little old Missy.” a gentile voice spoke.

“It’s not, you’re not real, she didn’t come for me.” You said in a tiny trembling voice.

“I did. I was looking for you restlessly, poppet, I finally found you.”

“You’re just another mind game. What are you gonna do this time? Kill me again? Break all my bones? Tell me how disposable and useless I am? Go ahead, I’m waiting.” You’re getting sick of it, all you suffered wasn’t enough?

“Oh baby, I’m so sorry about what you’ve been through… it’s all my fault, I shouldn’t let you come with me to that shop. Please look at me.” Her hand danced carefully between your curls. It’s been so long since anyone touched you like that.

“Please, please go away or ruin me. I can’t take these games anymore. Please don’t give me hope, that’s all I ask.”

“He’s dead, Vansell is dead, I killed him myself.” Her voice was bitter. “Neither he nor anyone will ever put their hands in a single hair of yours ever again. I promise.” Vansell? You never heard this name before. Finally you glanced at the woman kneeling by your side. “I could feel you know... all your pain, all your misery from our psychic link. I was powerless, completely useless, he blocked all my answers, I couldn’t send anything to you and that killed me. Please Y/N, believe me, I’m here. Truly. We can leave.” She was fully bared before you, no mask, no mocking, that was purely her. Suddenly a smell caught your nose.

“What smell is it?” You couldn’t contain the question inside your mouth.

“I-it’s your perfume. It reminded me of you” Her eyes drifted from yours in embarrassment and then it was the first time you allowed yourself to truly look at her. Missy was ruined. Big black bags laid beneath her tired blue eyes, her hair was frizzy and falled roughly from her coiffure, she was almost without any makeup, all seemed to fall out with time. You couldn’t imagine any of that, not the way it is in front of you.

“It’s really you?” Your voice was muffled with fear.

“It’s me, baby girl, we can go home.” The Time Lady’s voice was cotton-candy soft.

“I’m scared.” You stated frowning.

“I know you are.”

“I don’t think I can move. I waited for so long but now I’m just too anxious and terrified to do anything.” It was confusing, your body was confusing.

“I’ll be by your side. We are going to have very difficult days, but I’ll be there. I got you. I’ll be your safe place, just like you became by when I needed the most.”

“Y-you don’t have to. Just leave me on the earth, you don’t need a broken pet.” Your heart skipped a beat, you could never be so special to her.

“The very last thing you said to me was ‘I love you’, let me prove to you that I feel that too. You became way more to be then just a pet, Y/N.”

“You really came.” There was no doubt, even in your sweetest dream you could imagine that, your self-loathing would never allow you. Finally you let yourself smile, the first one in months.

“I did. and I’ll always come to you.” Your faces were close, and slowly she leaned over you and met your lips with hers.

This kiss was definitely different from the others you shared with her. It was slow, delicate, sweet, as if nothing matters to her more then be there with you. Her hands cupped gentilly your face and you could feel her hearts beating fast through her palms. Her tongue danced the most private waltz with yours, showing with every single moviment how much you meant to her. The entire world faded to you, there were no problems, no insecurities, no fears, it was just you and your safe place. Only when you two were complete out of breath your kiss was broken, and she rested her forehead in yours.

“I can calm you down with a bit of hypnosis and we can go home, how does it sound?”

“Oh, so you haven’t used it yet.”

“No. I would never use it without asking permission. You’re far too important.”

“Then do it. I want to go home with you.”

The first nights weren’t easy to go through. You were too afraid to sleep and suddenly realize you’re still on that cell and this wasn’t more than a dream, too afraid to wake up one day and realize that Missy wasn’t there. However, the Time Lady was indeed always there for you, dealing with every single one of your fears, lulling every single one of your nights, helping you with teas and hypnosis whenever it was needed. With time, bit by bit, you were getting back to be yourself again. And then, you asked to see one of the things you missed the most, the sunrise.

Missy took you to the most marvelous place you ever saw. She was too excited that you wanted to leave the TARDIS and see something that, for her, it needed to be perfect. And it was. Two wonderful suns raised up upon the green valley mountains and warmed your skin, the sky was beautifully painted by orange, red and pink shades like in a masterpiece. The fresh wind blows your hair and fills your lungs with joy. Your favorite Time Lady wrapped her arms between your waist and rested her head on your shoulder standing behind you. Suddenly the realization falled on you, you’re finally free. A great view and your girl, that’s all you could ask for.

You are free.

#missy doctor who x reader #missy doctor who #the master x reader #missy/reader

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thatblondeperson · 4 years ago

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TimSteph, taking care of chronic injuries!

Hey look, another ask that got buried! Sorry friend!!!!

This is all preboot, RR/Batgirl era.

Ok so Tim is super extra imo when it comes to treating any kind of sickness, injury, ANYTHING. He’s the type of guy who will go to CVS and buy out the entire “cold + flu” aisle as soon a Steph gets a runny nose. He absolutely drowns her in cough drops and tissues. I can see him being extremely attentive as well. Like bringing blankets and pillows around the clock, happy to carry her from point A to point B, almost insisting to do so on occasion, and just sitting with her for as long as she desires/needs company. He absolutely pays no mind to germs. Steph can cuddle all she wants.

Steph is similar but less extra. She’s got some more classic home remedies that Tim doesn’t have. She absolutely would baby the hell out of him if he got sick though, and probably more often than not she has to put her foot down on him trying to patrol even if he’s completely out of it and burning up. Tim has a hard time relaxing, but eventually the time is used for him to catch up on sleep. Tim getting sick is like a mini-hibernation. I can see Alfred stepping in occasionally if they were both sick because Tim’s an absolute mess, and Steph can only do so much before she gets wiped out. They’re hopeless and completely out of service if they’re both ill at the same time. Error 404: Dorks not found.

Chronic injuries are a constant process. Steph obviously has a ton just from Black Mask alone. I’m sure she gets aches and pains on the regular due to the severity of the torture she experience. Power drills would leave some lasting abdominal pain for sure. Hell, I wonder if it makes cramps worse for her? It could in all honestly. She may need serious pain meds during that time of the month which are of course always kept on hand. On top of that, the physical trauma definitely left endless mental trauma. No question about it. Not to mention that time she got lightly shot in the head. I say lightly because I forgot this was a thing because they don’t really address it again. I imagine that would cause occasional headaches/migraines, and I’m sure Tim likes to run a scan every now and again to make sure there isn’t any lasting damage. And of course, we return to the medicine cabinet for more pain pills. (Thank you @incoherentbabblings for reminding me of the gunshot.)

I headcanon that both of them get nightmares on almost the regular. They’ve both got it set that if one of them is in the middle of a bad nightmare, the other just holds them close, doing whatever they can to soothe them until the calmness sets back in. The nightmares get more spaced out some time after they move in together because I think the constant safeness of having someone beside them every night would eventually help them both sleep through the night better. It is hard to get back to sleep though. Both of them have been put through the ringer, they’ve both seen death of loved ones up close and personal, and I imagine a lot of what they’ve experienced is still very vivid and intense for them.

Tim’s got his own fair share of recurring pain. The boy doesn’t have a spleen and tbh I don’t know how he’s not getting sick more frequently. But extra precautions need to be taken to keep him from getting infections when he gets any kid of open wound, thank GOD Steph is a nurse. Tim has to be kept pretty healthy though if at all possible, which brings us back to my previous headcanon about him not caring about germs when Steph is sick? Yeah, not his smartest move, but Tim’s an idiot and forgets that he’s fragile.

Both of them have regular joint issues. They’ve dislocated enough things for just about everything to make awful clicking sounds now and again. Steph doesn’t have as much regular muscle pain, she’s far more flexible than Tim is so she stays pretty loose and limber, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t have to work at it every day. Steph does yoga as a part of her routine. She gets Tim to join sometimes but he’s not very good at keeping up with it. He’s flexible too but not to her level, and he locks up easier if he’s had an especially tough night. They both try to put the time in to exercise when they can, spotting each other, keeping a routine going, because given how much they both get beaten and battered on the daily, if they don’t keep up with muscle pain, it’ll just get worse. On bad days when the pain makes any mobility difficult, massages ensue. They’ve got at least 15 ice packs in the freezer at all times, and a stack of heating pads in the medicine cabinet. And if all else fails, a nice hot bubble bath never hurts. With Epsom salts and everything. Steph likes to add a touch of lavender oil.

Immediate injuries they’re both very good at treating. Steph obviously has more technical knowhow, and she is the most medically trained of all the Batfam members, but Tim is detail oriented and good at focusing when he needs to so he can keep up just fine. They’re both good at stitches and general wound treatment, but Steph is better at consistent treatment. Tim will absolutely forget to switch out his bandages or clean things because his brain is soup and he cannot be bothered to think about injuries when he’s too busy with 50 other things on the constant. He needs to slow down. We get right back into “more prone to infections” again. Alas. Idiot.

They both have their fair share of mental health issues, though Tim’s tend to be more intense. Steph has her ways of managing her own mental state but Tim gets stuck often. He falls into some pretty deep depression spells, and his anxiety acts up fairly frequently. Steph has started teaching him how to meditate, but also has a list of distractions and special remedies that she can utilize if need be. Movies and tea are a good base line, though Tim’s mind gets very far away sometimes and it’s hard to pull him back out. Like he almost wants to wallow in his sadness. Often she just tries to ground him as best she can so he doesn’t get so lost that he can’t come back. Steph likes to make sure that he isn’t always using patrol as a crutch for when he’s feeling upset or tense. It’s hard to sway him away from more pain when he lets himself get so close to the edge. It breaks her heart, sometimes she feels helpless.

Steph has anxiety as well, and some psychosomatic tics from her past abuse. She needs a lot of reassurance and gentleness when her mind starts racing. She’s still prone to trust issues, even now when she’s surrounded herself with stable people. She’s been let down and she fears losing her steady ground sometimes. Tim, let’s face it, hasn’t been the most reliable in the past, but I firmly believe that with some growing up he’d step up to the plate and try to be a solid home base for her to the best of his abilities. He’s not going anywhere anytime soon. He’s very good at being gentle. That’s canon as fuck. I will die on the hill that Tim is as delicate with Steph as one would be with a priceless porcelain heirloom. Fight me, the boy would never intentionally try to physically or mentally hurt her. He tries so hard to reassure her but I thinks he feels a little helpless sometimes too. Some of her trust issues are his fault, and he can’t just snap his fingers and reverse his mistakes. He tries his best, but there will always be scars.

All in all, I think they’re both very tender and caring with one another. They’re both beyond broken sometimes, and they are a mess and a half. But they know each other, they know each others pain and sadness and I think once they got back together they’d settle very easily into a care routine. Both of them are carrying the weight of countless consequences and mistakes and hardship on their shoulders. Pain is just a side affect that comes with carrying so much baggage, but it’s a little easier to manage when they have each other for support. I do think some of it would get easier over time, and my wish for them is that they can move somewhere just outside the city, maybe by a lake. Far enough away that things are quiet, but not so far that they would completely leave the hero gig behind. I agree with the consensus that neither of them could fully quit. Tim would just sink into the background, but Steph would be out there in the field for many years. Justas long as they have somewhere safe and comfortable to return to, I think they’ll both be just fine. Plus smooches are the best fallback medicine for all ailments and we all know that they never run out of those. 😘💋

THANK YOU FOR THIS ASK! More than half of this was not anything to do with chronic injuries but fuck it. We’ve tapped into the hurt/comfort section of my brain and there is a lot of material there to work with. Idk when you sent this in but I hope it wasn’t too long ago. I hope this answered more questions than you ever intended to ask. 💜❤

#TimSteph #tim drake #stephanie brown #robin iii #spoiler #robin iv #red robin #batgirl #batfam #batfamily #dc comics #dc #batman #personal #ask tbp

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bxllafanficc · 4 years ago

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My dear apprentice - Anakin!Skywalker x fem!reader - chapter 4

(Y/n)'s pov

"Cut low!"

...

"Your grip is too loose."

"See what you did there? You left me an open area."

"Too slow!"

...

"You're not maintaining distance!"

"It's block, thrust, then avoid. Not the other way around!"

"Get up on your feet again! Your enemy wouldn't wait for you to recover!"

———————

"Let's call it quits. We're not going to make any further progress when you're in this state anyway."

Breathe. I can't breathe.

Pain. I can't feel my leg.

I feel nauseous.

He's absolutely crazy. A sadist, that's what he is!

"I'm aware it is your first time, but even as a beginner, you should be able to at least find ONE mistake in my moves and take advantage of that. I gave you several to spot out."

I hate you. You're a danger to all students and to society. You should be locked in a cave for everyone's safety if you call this training.

"Though, I am much impressed by your patience and strength. Not every student I've sparred with is able to take an ass-whooping for three hours straight."

So there's more of you're victims, huh? Where are they now these days? In the freezer or dumped in a bush behind an old building?

"You're insane!" I spit out with a muffled growl, forcing my arms to bear my body into what would feel like an upright sitting position, though all I feel right now is pain. With blurry vision, I rub my eyes hazily and glare forwards the tall shape of my tormentor from my spot on the floor.

And how did I end up on the floor? I don't even remember. I must have fallen or fainted and then gained back consciousness right after. All I feel is the numbness of my legs, my arms crying out in terror and the bruises aching and pounding on my outer things, hips, shoulders and back.

He did not hold back like he promised he would. He just went straight onto beating me and commanding me on how to defend myself. He whammed my back like it was nothing and hit me in my sides like he actually tried to cut through. A few hits to the back of my head made me lose my focus and at that point, I was unable to gain anything from his commands.

Now, I am a beginner. But I know damn well that you don't need to thrust that hard because of the extreme heat radiating from the lightsaber. So why is he trying to break my bones with a plain stick when he could do much worse with any other weapon available in this room?

"No, you're not listening to what I'm saying. I need to slap enough information into your thick skull for you to be able survive an ambush at our temple or while out on the streets. That's why you learn the basics at the very start of your training. Now I have teach you from the very beginning within an unknown time limit that could go on forever or end out of nowhere. As my padawan, you're a great target for anyone out to hurt me or you."

He keeps on lecturing me like this each hour but my ears has stopped listening for some reason. My brain just doesn't process what he says. Though I'm not saying no to a little peace and quiet.

"I am able to defend myself, just not against you. Yet. Besides, You're not one of the best swordsmen to walk this path only to be killed off out of nowhere. Aren't you supposed to defend me until I am able to wield a lightsaber, anyway? I don't think we're in that much of a danger."

I exclaim, closing my eyes in order to block out the blurry shapes around me. Excessive problems is the last I need.

All I need right now is a shower, some food and sleep.

I'm so tired...

"You think that's the case? What would you say if someone came barging in and struck me down right in front of you, right this moment?" He asks and I can feel him crouching down to my level, making his way to my side and leaning his face close to mine.

The slight movements in the air and the smell of pine trees and freshly shed rain wash over me like a waterfall gives it away. He's close, but his voice is irritated and short.

"Thank you." I mumble, my voice fading away as the aching in my head reminds me of the recent three hours of torture.

Anakin scoffs and immediately moves away from me, getting up on his feet and turning to the door as I open my eyes again.

"Very funny. I'm gonna take a shower and head to the dining room after. Meet me there in an hour." He snarls and picks his staff back up, reaching out a hand for the door and opening it quickly.

"Anakin?" I ask and bite my lip, folding out the wrinkles on my tunic as gaze towards the boy with the golden locks.

"What?"

Simple and short. He doesn't want to talk to me. Or be near me at all, for the moment. I guess it has something to do with hunger since he seems eager to have dinner.

"... Where are the women's showering rooms?"

He sighs and lets the door slide open a bit wider. A silent invitation.

"Get up and I'll show you."

*Time skip after shower*

I'm so hungry. My stomach is growling at me like it had gone days since the last meal.

With a sigh and a few cuss words I position myself in front of the full size mirror hung on the wall beside the end of my bed. Light fingertips carefully travel along with the series of bruises on my skin, revealing more and more of them the further up the oversized shirt I put on.

Turns out, the so called friends of mine forgot or simply ignored packing any kind of warm clothing with thick fabric. So now I'm left with only uncomfortable ridiculous lingerie and thin, armless tops to wear.

I'm tired, I'm hungry, I'm cold and about to punch the first person to walk closer than three meters near me. I'm tired of my master, angry that he doesn't seem to take my needs into consideration in his training methods, upset that he find it so easy to blow a clean hit with his staff without holding back, seemingly without feeling any kind of guilt for causing me pain. I'm sad that he has these unreasonable high expectations about me that I couldn't possibly reach up to at my first day of training, mad that I'm stuck with limited, embarrassing clothing that I have absolutely no use for as a Jedi anyway.

But most of all right now, I am frustrated about the temperature of the nights in Coruscant this season. The ridiculously cold nights leaves every bedroom, every hallway and every household feeling like it's mid-season winter. The chilly air has spread to my very core and I have nothing warm to put on.

The only option left is to...

Screw it.

I don't have the consciousness to care at this point. He will just have to suck it up and accept it.

*Time skip to dinner time*

With a large plate of food and another growl from my stomach, I position myself at a round table where my master and Obi wan are eating their dinner already. Of course they didn't wait for me, what did I expect?

Both the men look up to greet me but freezes in their action with their mouth slightly widened in surprise. Obi wan turns his head slightly to Anakin with a raised eyebrow, to which Anakin responds with an aggressive shoulder shrug, hands up in defense.

Do they really have to make such a deal out of it? I'm just cold...

I sit down unto the remaining chair with a bounce.

Ouch. Shouldn't have done that.

A list of cuss words enter my lips until I've emptied out my entire vocabulary as a sharp pain shoot up from my behind and through the rest of my body. That damn training session.

And why are they so surprised. Well of course I stole the only available warm piece of clothing at my reach; a worn out white tunic with long sleeves and a collar. From Anakin's drawer.

"Why... that's mine-"

"Shut up! Don't you think I know that?" I hiss, teeth blared and a wild look displaying in my eyes.

That successfully makes Anakin stop mid-sentence and pull his hands down under the table, tilting his head with a confronting glare.

"Then why are you-" Obi wan attempts to ask but just like Anakin, gets cut off with a snarl and a hush.

"If you would just let me talk, please. So, some bimbos called my friends from back home asked me last week if they could be the ones packing my stuff and ship it to the temple as an act of kindness to relieve the stress I've been feeling lately. Of course they took the opportunity to mess with me and only send thin, shoulder less tops for me to wear. And on top of that, a bunch of yucky lingerie that look like it belongs to a prostitute. Therefore I'm stuck with uncomfortable underwear and fabric as thin as paper for me to wear. And long story short, I'm cold. And I have non fucks to give."

Putting his tea cup to his lips, Obi wan lets out a chuckle before taking a sip.

"Man, I hate when that happens. I would be furious at my friends."

Anakin grins all of a sudden and speaks up to his former master.

"Don't be silly, master. You don't have any friends."

I sigh dramatically at the two of them and dive into the mountain of food in front of me. As they're almost done with their own plates I feel like I should hurry. I don't want to keep them waiting impatiently anyway. I can't take more of Anakin's shit.

"Then what are you?" Obi wan replies as he cuts up a strange looking fruit and inspects it with confusion written all over his face.

"I'm your daughter, of course. We've been through this several times already."

"Oh, right. I keep forgetting."

An entire conversation I couldn't possibly recap later on or even understand right now takes on as I eat, very word more meaningless than the previous ones.

... What?

Are they...

I can't find anything fitting to say. I don't know how to respond mentally either. I can only stare in silence.

What are they talking about? Is this their way of joking?

As if like the whole thing was scripted, already planned out before I got here, the two men look up at me with a causal expression and speaks up in unison.

"What?"

I shake my head and finish the last piece of food on my plate.

"Nevermind... Come to our dorm when you're done eating, Master Skywalker. I'm going to call it a day."

I wave Obi wan a silent good night and get up off the table. Tired and numb legs cause me to not put my feet where I wish them to be and the chair hooks onto my ankle.

Please, not now. I can't stand anymore!

I stumble out of the room clumsily and quickly leave with a deep frown as the loud laughter of one Anakin Skywalker, echoes out through the corridors and into the silent night.

// another chapter done and I just feel like every sentence made the story worse and worse throughout the entire chapter. I'm always exhausted towards the end since I write at night and I can only do no more than laugh at my struggles🤘 Idk Next chapter might arrive a lot later since I had such trouble writing this one. <3

Tag list: @tomisbaeholland

#anakin skywalker #inspiration #movies #anakin x y/n #anakin skywalker imagine #anakin fanfiction #oh anakin #poor anakin #anakin imagine #star wars anakin #fanfiction

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i-am-parsec · 6 years ago

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Page 4

Henrik has gone from ignoring me for weeks to monitoring my every move 24/7. Stacy goes around the house making jokes about the benefits of having an live-in doctor since she may go into labour any minute now but I can't tell she's just as worried as me about the Doc. Worried because he's not explaining himself. Worried because he won't tell what's in the goddamn book. Worried because of his reaction when she "dared" to use Google to translate the first page. Henrik claims it's ancient German, too hard for him to understand, "after all, Chase, I only lived in Berlin for a few years as a kid, I barely speak modern German!, but you can't bullshit the bullshiter, Schneeplestein.

He's scared, and while I keep telling myself I don't what of, I think it's time to face up to the facts. It's time to call mom and ask what the fuck happened the night Charles broke his arm and I met my wife.

***

I have two uncles. Both of them in prison. One of them for murder, the other for rape and murder. I had no idea they were in prison or that they existed at all. My mother told me as that trying to contact them was pointless, she swore to my father I would never meet them. Apparently delivering that fucking book wasn't his only deathbed wish, knowing him, the fucker probably made a list. I want to be mad at him, I really do, but I can't, right now I can't feel anything. There's so much going on inside my head and at the same time, it's blank. It reminds me of our time working in Arizona, the attempted robbery - when Stacy shot at that guy with the gun so close to my head, I felt the whole world going completely mute while simultaneously exploding. The ringing right after, that's how I feel now. Silenced terror.

I go back to how mom greeted me and it makes me want to scream.

"I'm glad you called, dear. You have no time to waste; now, listen carefully and everything will be alright, you are the one who's gonna get it right, son."

Reassuring words as she holds me in the monster's den. Nothing but lies, that's all this family is. She asked me to record the conversation. I should have hung up right then and there

Triplets. Dad was born first, then Lucas, then Matthew. The three of them seemed like healthy, happy boys despite their father's distant behavior. If what my mother says it's true, that grandfather I never got to meet only held his children once for a picture after they were born and never again touched them, not a hug, not a caress, not even pat on the back. Their mother tried really hard to make up for their father's lack of affectionate gestures, in other words, she spoiled them. That alone could explained my father's addictions and his brothers' criminal tendencies but mom insists there's more. She insists there is a curse.

I am going insane, aren't I? A sane person would suggest their mother to get herself checked after listening to what I did, yet here I am writing it all down, going over the recording again and again, afraid I might miss some details. This is ridiculous...

A curse has followed the Brody men for at least 6 generations. Someone, somewhere made a pact and apparently screw all of us up; with who or what is up to debate but what my family has deduced over the years is that this entity preys on all of the males who descend from that poor fucker and that it feeds off our pain (either emotional or physical) while working its way into the brain of its victims. Once it achieves this, it starts controlling the victim's body until it completely destroys it and then proceeds to start the same process with the next generation, i.e. It drives you insane and, after killing you, it starts torturing your son.

I've always doubted my mother’s sanity but this certainly sounds like reason enough to lock her up in an asylum - although, given the fact that I might go crazy myself in a matter of months, maybe that's a not a good idea; last thing I need is to end up trapped in a mental institution with her. That could totally happen, I'm unlucky like that, as time has proven more than once.

From here on, I'll just write down her exact words, I'm done with trying to process all this crap, it's obviously not happening.

"Your father loved you and me more than anyone has ever loved anyone in this world. He made the biggest sacrifices so you and every other man with Brody blood on their veins could get an actual fighting chance, a shot at happiness. He went through Hell, and back for us, my love, and maybe you think ‘no, that's not right, he put us through Hell, he was the devil himself’, but that's just not true and you know it. Maybe that thing managed to slip away from your memory but it’s not an easy sight to forget, once you see it, it sticks with you forever, and you saw it, son, many times. Every time your father pinned you down on the floor, every time he burned your skin with a cigarette, every time he threaten you or me to kill us, there it was, relishing in our fear. You have to understand, Chase, that while all of us could see it, no one knew how to stop it, no one was brave enough to find out, except your father and his brothers. He wasn't the horrible man everyone saw from the outside, he was and will always be the tender boy I fell in love with so many years ago.

He didn't know what was going to happen to him as he grew older, his father never warned him - you see, that was your grandfather’s strategy. This thing needs the victims to love and be loved, to have hope and dreams, it needs them to be happy, so he can rip their happiness apart. Your grandfather learned this from the old book I sent you and he concluded that if he stayed away from his sons and never allowed himself to love anyone, he would be safe, he could starve the demon and maybe even destroy it. But there's no escape from love, no matter how bad it hurts. He suffered just as much as your dad did, but got nothing out of it. When your dad and uncles found out about this curse of sorts, they realized there was no point in trying to fight it, so they didn't. They let it consume them completely, so they could learned as much as possible from it, what it was, how it behaved and especially, how to kill it.

I knew your uncles. They were good men, and they loved your father very much. By the time your grandfather died and the truth came out, Matthew was engaged, Lucas was a successful singer (you won't find his songs on the internet but trust me, he was gifted, just like you, dear) and your father, well, he and I had just moved in together and I was pregnant with you. It is truly a shame you never got to meet Matt and Luke because they would have been the most wonderful uncles any kid could ever have. In a way, they are. They decided your dad was the one who had the most to lose, so they sacrificed themselves, hoping it would prevent the monster from attacking him too. That's how they ended up in jail. They were the kindest people I had the honor to meet, they would have never hurt anyone, but they thought if they became the evil puppets this thing wanted them to be, it would leave your father and his new family alone. They loved you a lot, Chase, if your father made me promise you will never to see them, it's because they are no longer the lovely men they once were. This thing consumed them. You must remember them as the smiling kids in the pictures I'm sending you. You should be getting them soon. That's who you uncles are, not the emotionless shells who are in prison now.

Just like them, your father was not the beast you sadly had to grow up with, he was kind and creative and he would have let this thing eat him up alive if it meant finding a way out for you, son, and I think he did. The book is mostly notes from your great grandfather, the first one to "investigate" this thing, but on the back there are your father's own findings. Read them, dear, prepare yourself but most importantly, don't make your elders' mistakes. Don't try to ignore it or hide it, this is a fight you can't avoid or win alone. I'm glad you married the Walter girl, she always seemed so strong and determined, I know that if you tell her the truth, like your father did with me, she will stick with you.

I'm sorry it took me so long to tell why we could never leave, my love, I really am. I hope, one day, you can forgive us all.”

I want to tell my mother to fuck off, to stop making shit up and accept the fact she married an abusive drunk worthless piece of shit who happens to be brother of two equally fucked up pieces of shit and that maybe now that he's dead she can finally get some professional help to deal with it, but I can't. I want to put this pen down and go to bed and hold my beautiful wife, tell her everything is alright, but I can't. I want to call Henrik and tell my friend there's no need to lie because whatever is written is that book is nothing but some drug-induced crap my great-grandfather wrote many years ago, but I can't.

Because I know it's not true. Because I remember my father's true voice. Because I can see the void in the window's reflection, hovering over my shoulder, reading these rushed words. Taller than a human, wider than my desk, I can feel its freezing breath against my back. I don't want to turn around. I don't want to stare at it and listen to its heinous scream. I don't want to tell the truth. I don't want to admit my father was a good man controlled by a fucking demon because then that means my monster is not gone and I'm still not free.

It means my monster is standing right here with me and this time there's no one to hold it behind a shut door. This time, I have a son on the way, and it's my turn to hold it shut.

4 pages left. Page 3 // Page 5

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#Unaddressed Letters #Chase Brody #His letters

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green-eyeddragonfanfiction · 6 years ago

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War of Attrition: Chapter 11

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier x Reader Summary: Best friends with Steve Rogers, renowned Howling Commando, and married to one James Buchanan Barnes, your life wasn’t perfect, but it was as close as it could possibly be in the middle of World War II. Then you fell from a train in the Alps, and everything changed. You spent nearly 70 years as a tool of Hydra alongside your beloved, though your past with him was more often than not forgotten. You continue to search through old SSR files for the information you lead, growing more attached to the people in the base than you’re sure is healthy. It’s only a matter of time until you find what you need, but will it be what you wanted? Warnings: Swearing (always), mentions of torture, blood, death Word Count: ~6,327 A/N: I’m sorry

Masterlist // Book One // Book Two

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

There was a long pause, then, “Understood, Misses Barnes. We’ll prioritize non-lethal weaponry and use normal guns only if everything else fails.”

You crossed your arms and glared down at the speaker. “I suggest you don’t fail, then.”

Fitz grinned tentatively you and Mack gave you an appraising stare. When Coulson spoke up again, his voice gentler than before. “We’ll try our best, Misses Barnes.”

After all the commotion had died down and the call with Coulson’s team ended, you went back down into Vault B. Sitting idly never worked for you, not when you were waiting on something important. You realized the antsy feeling in your gut was a familiar one. It reminded you of all the times you stayed back from a fight with Steve, Bucky, and the guys to run communications and logistics. Every second of it sucked, never knowing if they’d all come back in one piece or not.

Movement in the doorway caught your eye.

Fitz stood there, body half-covered by the wall. “They, uh... They’re back and-”

“Gill?” you asked tersely.

“Alive,” Fitz confirmed.

Tension you’d been accumulating since the call went out an hour or so ago finally left your body and you released a long, relieved sigh. “Good. That’s good.”

“We- We don’t know if- if he’ll be-”

“Brainwashed when he wakes up?” you asked, crossing your arms across your chest. Fitz nodded slowly. “The best way to keep your people safe is to secure him until you’re sure of his mental state. Until you find away to get the brainwashing out of his head you’ll have to be careful, for your sakes as well as his own. Just... don’t treat him like an animal or some sort of subhuman. He deserves better than that. He’s the victim.”

“Like you?” Fitz asked quietly and earnestly, gaze calculating even if his brain wasn’t working at the same level it used to.

You let out a long sigh. “I’m not innocent, Fitz. I’m not talking about the things Hydra made me do, either. I created weapons. Designed them to be just a little more deadly than the opponents, just a bit more efficient to construct. I could have created a weapon from the designs in my head at Azzano that could have ended the war in a week, but I didn’t.”

“Why not?” Fitz asked quietly, picking at some of the peeling paint on the door jamb.

You scowled. “For the same reason I think Hiroshima and Nagasaki were mistakes. Catastrophic loss of human life? The murder of civilians? I hate that the world somehow managed to accept that. Weapons that destructive don’t discriminate. Even if they did, who should decide who lives and who dies? So, you only kill all the enemy soldiers. What about the ones who joined up just to protect their family? The ones that joined because they had nowhere else to go? Nothing else they could do? The ones that cried every night while they thought about the people they killed and the friends and loved ones they lost? Should we create an algorithm like Zola and Hydra? No thank you. No, I wouldn’t be party to something so heinous. Didn’t stop me from creating guns with Stark that would get thousands of people killed, though, and reaping the profits.”

You lost yourself in your thoughts for a minute and looked up. You were halfway to apologizing when you realized he probably understood better than anyone else in this base what it was like to lose yourself in your own head.

You sighed. “But that kid? The genius who has trouble making friends and looks up to you? He made a few shitty decisions, sure, but he didn’t deserve to have his brain scrambled. If he hasn’t already, he’s going to eventually remember that he killed a lot of SHIELD agents in The Fall. He’s going to be seriously messed up, so I hope you have a damn good therapist on your staff. Or twelve.”

Fitz mulled that all over a minute, his gaze slightly unfocused. “Have you... have you had any- any luck?” he asked finally, eyes sliding back to you.

You grimaced and motion to the sizeable pile to your right. Four boxes. All thoroughly searched, no likely leads. “No, not yet. There’s a lot here, though, that never made it to the digital era. Things Hydra never knew about because it all stayed buried down here.”

“Is- is it dangerous that... that you’re-”

“Looking at all of this?” you asked, single eyebrow raised. He nodded quickly and you blew out a small sigh. “Honestly? I’m not sure. My memory is good but not perfect, especially not after all the deep fry treatments courtesy of the KGB and Hydra. I’d never give any of this information over willingly but...” your voice trailed off and you bit your lip, not wanting to say anymore.

“But they have- have the- the-” he made a frustrated noise, “-backups. In your brain,” he gritted out.

You gave him a long, sad stare in lieu of answering directly. You didn’t want to admit that there were backups to your brainwashing to SHIELD. Didn’t want that information to exist anywhere, not even in Fitz’s brilliant little head. “There’s a reason why I try not to fight Hydra in person. It’s too risky,” you said, as close as you’d get to admitting the truth.

You could tell from the look in Fitz’s eyes, though, that he understood.

You stayed away from Gill’s room when they brought him in. Apparently he’d come out of the brainwashing slowly without someone from Hydra there to command him. They even strapped him up to some crazy lie detector chair to make sure he was completely free of compulsion. He’d be monitored closely but they treated him like a person, which was all you could ask.

When Coulson had asked for your input on what they should do with him, you’d simply leveled him with a flat stare and asked, “Perhaps you should ask him what he wants instead? Last I checked you deemed him capable of free speech. I’d still veto any suicidal or homicidal trains of thought, though,” you said dryly.

The more time you spent on the base, the closer you got to Fitz. Even Mack warmed up to you a bit, though you caught him staring at you closely more than a few times. May ghosted you like a shadow whenever she wasn’t on mission. Morse, a very tall and imposing but personable blond, seemed to take watch whenever May wasn’t there (you hoped the woman was sleeping. You weren’t sure if May ever slept, but you felt like she needed it with the amount of shit Coulson’s team put her through). You got along with Simmons like a house on fire once she realized you weren’t going to kill her on sight. Her and Fitz were having issues at the moment so you spent time with them separately, quietly watching the way they looked at each other from across the room when they thought the other wasn’t looking.

It wasn’t until a few weeks after your first day on sight that you finally found a lead.

After the fall of Schmidt and Zola, most of Hydra’s assets had gone to the next most senior man in the organization. When Peggy seized the facility with Morita and Dugan all those years ago they’d taken everything on the base, a veritable plethora of occult and science goodies that made your skin crawl to read about. The SSR had taken all the files on the base along with any other evidence such as video reels and pictures and anything that wasn’t downright dangerous. Those files, added to the SSR ones, painted a very gruesome, well-documented picture.

Werner Reinhardt stared up at you in sepia, his beady gaze cold and calculating even through 70 years worth of photo deterioration. His name rang with a sort of familiarity in the back of your mind and it took you a second to realize why. The snake of a man had been mentioned in reports back in the 40′s. Peggy’s team had been after him while you and the guys chased down Schmidt and Zola.

Among the list of data in the files were mentions of a biological sample. It was timestamped before the Winter Soldier mission in Japan but after the fall from the train. The timeline was right. The files made mentions of it every few pages.

BSAM003: Extracted from BSAM002 and stored for further study.

BSAM003: Cells tested against variety of conditions. Results inconclusive.

BSAM003: Samples show cell regeneration similar to BSAM001. Further careful study recommended: Dwindling quantities of BSAM003 remains.

BSAM003: Unrefined reproduction of the enhancements of BSAM002 achieved from tests run on BSAM003. BSAM001 enhancements unreplicable. Original sample consumed by final tests. Cloned samples of BSAM003 lack the original’s genetic modifiers. Cloned BSAM003 tissue disposed of. BSAM002 possibly necessary for successful genetic mutation. Unrefined serum sample to be coded as IS-003 in further reports. Obergruppenführer Reinhardt notified of progress.

You turned over the last page and stared at the small pocket in the back. It was tied up with string and, if the other files were anything to go by, there were going to be some horrendous photos stuffed in there. The Hydra scientists were almost gleeful in the task of thoroughly cataloguing their experiments.

You untied the stiff, time-eaten string that kept the pocket secure and slid the photos out. You nearly blacked out when you saw the first one.

It was you. It didn’t show your face, but it was you. A picture of you on a cold metal table. Your legs were missing below the knee and every gash and scar on the body in the picture were ones you knew intimately. You knew that if the photographers had flipped you over there would have been a single long gash from your right shoulder to your left hip. If they zoomed in on your right hand there’d be a small circular spot from when you got a nasty infected bug bite as a kid.

What horrified you the most was that your stomach had been sliced open in the picture. It was a clean medical cut, not like the other jagged ones from the fall. One of the scientists was holding up a little sign, “BSAM002.”

The next photos were of “BSAM003.”

You set the photos down.

You wanted to stop looking, but you couldn’t.

It was tiny. Maybe four inches (ten centimeters) long. The scale showed it weighed no more than an ounce (28 grams). It was misshapen but unmistakably-

Unmistakably human.

A racking sob ripped through your throat.

Biological Sample: American003. To be stored for further study, was the note scribbled in German on the sign in the picture.

Zola, for all his duplicity and evil, had been telling you the truth.

You cried. You cried until you eyes were red and puffy and your tear ducts ran dry. You cried until your throat was so raw it hurt to swallow. You cried until your cheeks and nose were red from how many times you’d wiped at them.

After what could have minutes, hours, the entire evening, you moved beyond the gentle shaking of your shoulders. You finally had your answer. An answer that would eat away at your soul for as long as you lived.

The only problem was that it raised another question. What did they do with the serum they created? You hadn’t seen any mention of IS-003 in any of the pictures or in any other files yet. You couldn’t rest until you knew what had become of it. It was quite possibly the only thing that remained of your baby. You wouldn’t tolerate the possibility of it being in Hydra’s possession.

You were so engrossed in searching through the files for any mention of BSAM003 or IS-003 that you didn’t realize, at first, that you had company.

Mack, Hunter, Simmons, and May stood in the doorway. Hunter, Mack, and Simmons were all frozen, but May was looking at you with... pity? Was she capable of feeling pity? You’d spent over two weeks around the woman and you still weren’t sure.

Mack was the first one to step forward, his bulky frame somehow squeezing between May and Hunter. “What’s up, Footloose?” he asked softly, stopping just a few feet away from you. You supposed you had to look like hell if he was talking to you like that. You didn’t miss the way May and Hunter’s hands slid to their guns, ready for you to blow up or have a mental break.

You couldn't speak yet. Your throat was worn raw. Instead, you slid a single photo across the desk towards him, your lips mashed into a straight line. If you started crying again you weren’t sure you’d be able to stop any time soon.

Mack picked it up, took one look at it, and swore under his breath. Wordlessly, you shoved the photo of you- cut open on the table- to him. He didn’t even pick that one up. He took one glance at it and looked away.

He placed the first photo down and your eyes followed it. It was like you weren’t in the room, not really. Your mind was retreating in on itself in an attempt to preserve what little sanity you’d manage to scrounge up over the last few months.

You didn’t see Mack come around the desk. You didn’t even register his presence until his huge arms wrapped around you, pulling you tightly to his huge chest. He didn’t say anything, but then, what could he? “I’m sorry Nazis cut your dead body open, stole your unborn child, then brought you back to life like some sort of Frakenstein’s monster”? “I’m sorry the US government let them”?

You could just barely see over his huge shoulder. May had walked forward with Simmons and they were staring at the photos splayed out over the desk. May’s face was tight, shock and fury showing only in the way her eyes wrinkled just so. Simmon’s face was much easier to read. You vaguely registered her muttered horror, talking about the inhumanity of it all from a scientist’s point of view. Hunter was glancing over both of their shoulders. He turned white as a sheet and pointed to you.

“I’m getting you a beer, mate,” he said, already turning on his heel to scuttle out of the room.

“Whiskey. Or vodka,” you croaked after him.

Mack loosened his grip enough so that he could look down at you. “You want to go back to your car? Or into one of our guest rooms? The non-prison kind, that is. I can have Fitz get one set up for you. Or you can hang out in the lab with him. We need to... Well, we need to search the files and you’re more than welcome to take this one with you but-”

You shook your head slowly. Your head was still swimming from the sudden roller coaster of emotions followed by crying out 80% of your body’s moisture. “No, I can’t stop looking yet. They- They made something out of- of the tissues and- and I need to find out what they did with it.”

Hunter returned promptly with a huge bottle of vodka. It was the cheap stuff, but you didn’t care. You took the shot glass from his outstretched hand and knocked back four shots in one go. You didn’t even flinch even though it burned like hot coals down your sore throat.

“Woah! Hey hey hey, I know this is shitty but-” Hunter began, but you cut him off.

“I don’t get drunk easily. I have a bastardized version of the super soldier serum. Doesn’t do much in the way of increasing strength, but it keeps me young and in peak normal human condition with little upkeep on my part. It’s nice until I want to drink away my problems and I have to down an entire aisle of a liquor store to do it,” you croaked, throat now burning from the vodka and the crying.

“You’re supposed to save important information like that then sweep us all under the rug in a drinking contest,” Hunter jabbed good-naturedly, not quite able to pull a smile on his face.

You gave him a weak half-smile that was more of a grimace. “Who or what are you looking for? If it’s around the mid or late 40′s there’s a chance I’ve read about it. Might get you out of my hair faster if I can point you in the right direction,” you said with just a hair too much fondness for them to take it as an insult.

They shared a quick look then shrugged. If they were letting you into their secret information vault they might as well get some use out of it, it seemed.

Simmons gave you a small smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “We’re after information on an artifact one of our enemies is attempting to utilize. The only issue is that we don’t know a lot about it. It was seized from a Hydra facility in Austria in 1945 by Agent Margaret Carter and a small, elite task force. Not a lot of mentions of the Red Skull, but quite a few of one of his lieutenants, Werner Reinhardt.”

You stared at her for a long moment, convinced your ears had just played tricks on you. “Did... you say Werner Reinhardt?” you breathed.

Simmons frowned. “Yes? Why, have you heard of him?”

You slumped back into your chair, a short laugh leaving your lips. “Today just keeps getting better and better...” you muttered, confusing the other four people in the room. You let out a huge sigh and grabbed the vodka bottle by its short neck and down about a fourth of it. Simmons was wincing, Mack’s eyebrows were up as high as they could go, and Hunter was caught between looking impressed and scared. May had a single brow raised, though you couldn’t begin to guess what she was thinking.

“Yeah, I knew ‘im. Not personally, of course. He wouldn’t have lived through that encounter, even without all...” you motioned to your legs and hands, “this. Me and the guys stuck to Zola and Schmidt. They were the biggest targets. Once we got them, the rest would crumble. Or, at least, that was the idea. You can see how well that all worked,” you said bitterly. “Reinhardt was one of Schmidt’s commanders. High up, to be taken down if the opportunity presented itself, but not someone we went out of our way for, not with Zola and Schmidt still on the board. Peggy and her SSR team were in charge of keeping track of people at his level. I read about him in quite a few status reports. Like Schmidt, he was obsessed with the occult. Artifacts of power. Overcoming the limitations of mortality, of humanity. All that crap. Left quite a gruesome trail in his wake, but Peggy’s people managed to keep him more or less on the run.” You took a breath, a mockery of a smile tilting up the corner of your lips. “What made me laugh, though, is that I’m interested in him, too. Already went through his files and everything.” You pulled said file from the box and flipped it open, sharing its contents with the rest of the class. “Complete bio, psych eval, and even a picture of the slimy bastard.”

The four of them crowded around the table, but it was Simmons who spoke first. “Wait, no...” she murmured, gazing at the picture in confusion.

“Yeah, name’s right beneath it,” Hunter said, flicking the picture with the back of his middle finger.

“No,” Simmons insisted. “That’s Daniel Whitehall.”

“What, you mean it looks like him?” Mack asked.

“No, I mean it’s the same man! I’ve stared Whitehall in the face,” she argued.

“You’re joking,” Hunter said, staring at Simmons in confusion.

“Can’t be. He’d be old as hell now,” Mack argued.

You coughed not-so-subtly into your hand and Mack glanced at you, then tilted his head. “Alright, point taken. I just find the chances of another one of you century-old young people existing to be slim.”

“I would have agreed with you before ‘alien’ became a word we use daily,” Simmons countered. She turned her gaze on May, who was staring stoically at the folder. “May, I know I’m right.”

“I know I shouldn’t be surprised that he’s still as young and evil as I remember him, but somehow I am,” you mused.

She huffed and pulled out her tablet and began tapping away at its surface.

“Bobbi was dead on,” Simmons said, flicking through the files. “He did have a personal connection to Red Skull.”

You groaned and held up a hand. “Jesus, stop calling him that. His name was Johann Schmidt. He was an evil bastard with a fucked up face, but I’m sick and tired of this whole Voldemort vs. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named bullshit.”

The four of them looked at you in surprise. “You’ve read Harry Potter?” Hunter asked, file forgotten in his hands for the moment.

You rolled your eyes. “Listened to the audio book. Don’t have time to read when I spend all day writing code or working with my hands.”

“Huh,” Hunter huffed, returning his attention to the task at hand. “What is this guy, Asgardian?”

“It’s like he stopped the clock,” Simmons said quietly.

“Or turned it back,” May said, turning the tablet around so they could see the picture on the screen. It was a photo of Reinhardt, old and wrinkled, looking at them from underneath bushy overgrown eyebrows.

“Where’s that photo from?” Hunter asked, staring at the photo in surprise.

May gave them all a dubious look. “An old SHIELD prison called The Rat.”

“Lovely name,” you remarked dryly.

“How long was he kept there?” Mack asked, staring down at the tablet in May’s hands.

“For life,” she whispered, confusion clear on her face as she looked at the rest of them.

When you knocked on the door to Coulson’s office a few days later, he glanced up at you then back at the screen on the wall across from him, as though he’d been expecting you. “Come in, please, Misses Barnes.”

You stepped inside and were unsurprised when May followed you in. He was the director of SHIELD after all. The last time a Director was put in a Winter Soldier’s path he’d ended up bleeding out from three slugs to the chest (not that that had actually ended up killing him, the stubborn bastard).

You supposed it was better than having your limbs impaled and your entrails ripped out, though. Secretaries always got the short end of the stick, it seemed.

“I’m not going to ask to go with your team,” you stated. You couldn’t go and fight Whitehall. Not when there was even the remotest possibility that he knew the words.

“Good, because I wasn’t planning on letting you join us,” he said not unkindly.

“I know you’re after Reinhardt-Whitehall for different reasons than me. Something about aliens?” you asked, eyebrow raised.

Coulson smiled that secret smile of his and nodded. “Yes, that’s right.”

“Different aliens than the ones that invaded New York a few years back?” you wondered, frowning.

“Different aliens,” Coulson confirmed with a nod.

You sighed heavily. “I really miss the days when the weirdest things in the world were blue laser guns, Stark’s floating car, and Steve,” you griped.

“And when you were never a brainwashed assassin,” Coulson added.

“And when I was never a brainwashed assassin,” you agreed passionately.

“I assume you came here for a reason, though. Other than to reminisce about the 1940′s?” he prompted gently.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to reminisce about the 1940′s? I built about a third of the things in this office myself. Or, at the very least, I designed them,” you said with a smirk.

“Depends, can you fix an original walkie-talkie wristwatch?”

“I s’pose that depends on how bad you broke it,” you countered.

“I set it to explode so I and Agent Skye wouldn’t die trapped in my office on The Bus,” he said, completely straight-faced.

“I’m sure it’ll buff right out,” you said just as dryly. Coulson smiled at that and the two of you stood there for a moment while you gathered your thoughts. “I’m sure May or one of your other agents has informed you of what I found.” You pressed on before he could say something that would either do nothing or dredge up all the emotions you’d buried for the time being. “I want to know when you take him out or bring him in. I highly suggest you put a bullet in his head, along with the waste of space you have trapped in a cage in Vault D, but it’s ultimately your decision. I just need him out of the way so I can gain access to all of his information without risking running into him.”

Coulson eyed you as he leaned back in his chair. “Because you’re worried he can re-trigger your brainwashing.”

You paused for a moment, staring the man down. “I respect you, Coulson. I’m going to say this once, in the nicest voice I can: Do not try and bring me in.”

Coulson smiled at you. “Wouldn’t dream of it. I know that car of yours packs more firepower than the quinjet and the bus combined.”

“Did Mack ever get under its hood?” you asked curiously.

Coulson’s grin widened a bit at that. “No, he could never get it open. It zapped him every time he tried. Not enough to hurt him permanently, of course. Just enough to sting.”

“I set it to taze mode. Figured you wouldn’t be too happy with me if your employee shocked himself to death trying to get into the Batmobile.”

“You call it the Batmobile?” Coulson asked, eyebrow raised.

You shrugged. “Who doesn’t love Batman?”

“You’re best friends with Captain America!” Coulson argued.

You shrugged lazily. “Was best friends. I’m not exactly returning his calls right now. Besides, the three of us rode motorcycles everywhere. Could you imagine trying to drive a car through a forest in Germany? Nightmare, that would have been. So I named it after the most well-known high-tech car I could think of. Batman reruns were on in the background, so... Batmobile.”

Coulson looked incredulously over your shoulder at May, who raised a single perfectly manicured eyebrow, refusing to take a side in this argument. He sobered after a second, though, and fixed his attention back on you. “If I refuse do we still get the information you promised us?”

“Yes,” you said without hesitation. The SSR files had shown you everything you’d asked for. Now it was a matter of finding out what happened to IS-003 and your crusade could finally end. You’d pick up another cross, though. Probably start wiping Hydra off the map, but closure was so close you could almost taste it. “Any information I have on Hydra is yours. If you agree, anything I learn after this will go straight to you, too. That includes information Reinhardt-Whitehall has squirreled away. If I find anything to... to reverse their brainwashing, you’ll be the second to know.”

“Second?” Coulson asked, confused.

You gave him a small smile. “Mister Barnes,” you said simply.

Coulson nodded at that. “Understood. We have a deal, Misses Barnes,” he said, sticking his hand out for you to shake.

You raised an eyebrow at it, then pointed to your own golden-wired hand. “You sure that’s such a good idea, Coulson?” you asked sardonically. “Built in joy-buzzer... that can kill an elephant.”

Instead of answering he continued to hold his hand out for you to take, looking at you expectantly.

You groaned and took his hand in yours. “You’re stupid. That was monumentally stupid,” you complained, even as you shook his hand then dropped it.

“I agree,” May said behind you, though you were thankful her anger was directed at Coulson and not you.

“Some advice?” you said, regarding him from your spot in front of his desk.

“Shoot.” He winced. “Poor choice of words. Go ahead, please.”

“Delete any record of me being here. Burn my lanyard the moment I drive through that front door. Purge the video recordings. Make sure none of your agents mention me. We both know Hydra’s still out there. We know what I mean to them. For the sake of me and your people, pretend I was never here.”

Coulson nodded. “Already taking care of it.”

You nodded. “And...” you took a deep breath. “If you need me, you know where to find me. If I move, I’ll be sure to get a message to you somehow.” He gave you a single nod of acknowledgement. “Now, I... I have something important to do. Thank you for your time and cooperation, Coulson,” you said, pulling a nondescript USB from your back pocket. You placed it on top of the papers on his desk and headed to the door, stopping before you passed May. “Oh, by the way, I’m taking some of the pictures with me. I left copies for your files, but I’m commandeering the originals.”

“I understand. Stay safe, Misses Barnes,” he said quietly. If you weren’t mistaken, there was a note of concern in his voice. Whether it was for you or the people around you was unclear.

You gave May a nod which she returned and you nearly smiled. That was the May equivalent of another person’s exuberant, loud goodbye.

When you made it to the garage Fitz and Mack were waiting by your car. Word traveled fast on the base, it seemed.

“Hey, Mack. Fitz. You got that transceiver patch down under six minutes yet?” you asked the blond by way of greeting.

They both turned to look at you. The blond shifted nervously. “Seven minutes thirty-two seconds,” he said anxiously.

You sent him a bracing smile. “You’ll get it. If I can fix highly-advanced cybernetic limbs without having any conscious idea of what I’m doing, you can patch a transceiver from muscle memory.”

“You can really do that?” Mack asked, eyeing your nano-skin covered legs.

You nodded. “I helped design them originally. Hydra tricked me into it. I always was better at designing things than their engineers. I made them so it’s an intuitive design for me. Even when I couldn’t remember my own name or what year it was, I could repair them. I’ve fixed Bucky’s arm and my leg more times than I can count... mostly because I can’t remember everything,” you said, taking a stab at darker humor. It earned you weak smiles, but you’d take it. “Point is, you can handle it. Coulson wouldn’t put you on it unless he believed you could.”

Fitz nodded. “I- I think I can do it.”

“Oi! Where do you think you’re getting off to without saying goodbye?” said a familiar voice from somewhere around the door that led deeper into the base.

You turned to see Hunter walking with a purpose towards the three of you, brown paper bag clutched tightly in hand. A quick backscatter scan revealed it to be a bottle of booze. Vodka, if you weren’t mistaken.

“Vodka. The good kind this time?” you asked with a smirk.

“What’s the point of getting the good, expensive stuff if it takes three bottles for you to even get a buzz going? Might as well just buy it in bulk, cheap,” Hunter groused.

“I like the taste,” you said, taking the bag from him with a grateful smile.

Hunter made a disgusted face. “You really did live in Russia for most of your life, didn’t you?”

You pulled the bottle half out of the bag and gave it an appreciative once over, then shot Hunter a wink. “Da.” It was the good stuff.

“Before you go, can I get a peek under the hood?” Mack asked, his eyes sliding over the Batmobile longingly.

“Sure,” you agreed easily. Mack hardly believed his luck. The three of them followed you to the front of the car and you placed your hand on the hood, smiling as it easily popped open at your touch. It was designed to open only to your specific hand print scan coupled with a specific electrical current.

All three of them took two huge steps back when they spotted the huge turret-defense guns sitting idly just under the hood. They shot a variation of the Stark’s repulsor blasts.

Mack stared at them for a second, then, “The engine’s in the back, isn’t it?”

You gave him a mockingly apologetic smile. “The engine’s in the back,” you confirmed.

“That’s cold,” Mack said as you closed the hood. He looked a little bit like a kicked puppy. A huge, muscular puppy. It almost reminded you of Steve.

“That’s the brand,” you sing-songed as you walked over to the driver’s side.

You were taken by surprise when Fitz wrapped his arms around you in a tight hug. It was slightly less of a surprise when Mack joined him. You had to nearly bite back a laugh when Mack reeled Hunter in with one of his big hands.

“No, I don’t do- Gah- Why are- Fine, aaaand we’re hugging now,” Hunter mumbled obstinately, his face close to yours, an amused smile dancing on his lips when he realized he wasn’t getting out of the group hug.

“Thank you,” you said quietly, earnest smile on your lips.

“Dunno what you’re talkin’ abou’,” Fitz muttered.

But you were sure he did. They were treating you like a person. A human being with feelings. And emotions.

“Yeah, jus’ don’t tell your husband about this, alrigh’? I fancy myself a tough man but I don’t want to be on Mister Barnes’ shit list,” Hunter half-griped, half pleaded.

You smiled as the group hug broke apart. “I dunno. I think he’d like you. All of you.” You suddenly had the urge to hang around longer, but they had a mission soon and you... you had a mission of your own.

“Alfred, run a system check. Eliminate foreign devices.”

“At once, madam,” came a synthesized British voice from the car.

There was a quiet zapping sound and a piece of metal flew a few feet into the air then landed on the ground with a smack.

“One such device found. It has been removed with prejudice,” your AI, Alfred, informed you.

You turned to smile at Mack, who shrugged helplessly, sheepish smile on his face. “Director’s orders. Can’t blame a guy for trying.”

You smiled at the three of them as the wing doors swung upwards. All three of them ducked in unison to get a peek inside as you slid in. Hunter let out a low whistle, Mack nodded his head in appreciation, and Fitz’s eyes were darting around, trying to take in as much as possible. His jaw was hanging ever so slightly slack.

The doors lowered back down slowly but you were already rolling down the window. You pointed to Mack and beckoned him forward. He gave you a confused stare but acquiesced and leaned down so his head was right next to yours.

You leaned forward until your mouth was right next to his ear and your voice was so quiet you knew no one else would be able to hear.

“You should tell them about the other SHIELD. If I’m being completely honest, I’ve dug pretty deep into any possible dirty laundry on both sides. I know how Hydra works. You’re both squeaky clean. If you’re not careful you’ll end up fighting each other and not the real enemy. And, no, I didn’t tell anyone else about this.”

When you leaned back Mack’s face was hard as stone, not that you’d been expecting anything different.

“Take care, Mack,” you said, flipping your car into gear. “You too Fitz, Hunter. Tell Simmons, Skye, Triplett and Bobbi goodbye for me, alright?” you said, throwing them a brilliant smile over Mack’s shoulder. Mack straightened after a second, eyeing you like he had the first week you’d been on the base.

The big door at the other end of the huge hangar area opened and you sped off towards it, hair flying in the breeze before you rolled up your window and sped out of the SHIELD facility, not glancing back.

Beside you on the passenger sat a folder full of pictures and intel. On the front were seven characters.

BSAM003.

You sighed and focused on the road, avoiding any and all cop cars that Alfred warned you about.

“Get me Bucky’s location, Alfred,” you said, heart heavy now that you’d left the base. The people there had been a small reprieve for the near-solitude you suffered.

“At once, Misses Barnes,” Alfred’s voice said through the speakers. A moment later his voice rang out, loud and clear. “Mister Barnes is currently residing in Puerto Rico.”

“Huh. I was expecting Bulgaria or something. How fast can I buy a boat that can accommodate the Batmobile?” you asked the AI, already getting on the closest freeway headed southeast towards the coast.

“It has been done, Misses Barnes,” Alfred informed you. I’ve changed your route so you’ll arrive in Miami at the marina where your new boat awaits. Estimated time of arrival: Four hours.”

“You’re a peach, Alfred,” you said, already gunning the engine to speed down the freeway.

“Always a pleasure to assist you, ma’am,” the AI said quietly.

You smiled and patted the dash affectionately. “Let’s go see the lord of the house, shall we?”

“I can hardly contain my excitement,” was Alfred’s dry, almost sarcastic response. Maybe you should have lightened up on the snark when you created him.

Next Chapter

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lanaarwenlazar · 6 years ago

Text

in honor of villain releasing and me starting it later today, here is a special insight into my brain in the form of the notes i made on my phone as i was reading monster last year, completely unedited (so with all my spelling mistakes and freakouts)

there are spoilers for monster, obviously

(keep in mind that i was very emotional about being back in the gone-universe, so don’t judge me lmao)

i ship malik and shade already. can’t habdle them they’re too cute

oh my god shade is basically a true crime fan, thanks i hate it

“WHATEVER MALIK DID IT GENERALLT SOMEHOW WORK” MY LOVE

...it will be interesting to see what people have to say about mg writing his first trans character

transphobic violence already, i think someone will have a problem with this chapter being called “the meet cute”

where

dekka

WHAT THE FUCK SHADE WHAT ARE YOU DOING YOURE INSANE

I WAS RIGHT BY THE WAY THE MOVIE SUCKED AND WAS A BAD IDEA AND I HOPE ASTRID AND SAM ARE SUFFERING AND HAVE NO FRIENDS

nooo dekka sweetie :(((

oh my god a dekka chapter what if we get updates on everyone i’m not ready

dekka is broke no :(((

but she drives a motorcycle i’m so in love

dekka has a cat. marry me

“Of those three hundred thirty-two kids, fifty-one developed one supernatural power or another. Only nineteen of you developed major powers and survived. And of these nineteen, seven have since developed serious psychological disorders” NO MY KIDS IM CRYING

“Lana Lazar spent time in a mental health facility” eeelp

“I know, she’s a friend of mine. She’s fine now.” THEY ARE FRIEND.jzoddbfb

“Others’ like Sam Temple, the supposed hero of the fayz, have had-”

HAVE HAD WHA TOM??!!!?!

“’Supposed hero?’ Screw you. You don’t disrespect Sam Temple where I can here it.” I’m 😭😭😭😭😭😭

sam was in rehab has an alcoholic kill me

and he’s on the wagon sober for sixteen months ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

DEKKA REMEMBERINH BRIANNA KILL ME

Hey, Sam’s sober and Astird got her head screwed on straight so leave them out of this - dekka out there defending her people

MG in the online: edilio is the true hero of the fayz MG in the books: sam is the true hero of the fayz me: so what is the truth?

oh my god that just means edilio is still underappreciated

DEKKA WANTS SAM AND ASTRID TO GO TO COLLEGE WORK AND ONE DAY HAVE A BABY GIRL NAMED DEKKA WHAT THE FUCK SHOOT ME

Me @ me: mg loves edilio. he will be in here. mg loves edilio. he will be in here. mg loves edilio. he will be in here. mg loves edilio. he will be-

Four year old Sean is here to cause trouble

Cruz singing my love ❤️❤️

We’ve literally just met him and Justin DeVeere already sounds like a potential school shooter

also how dare mg give him the same name as justin roger’s little brother

He’s so disgusting yikes

I don’t understand what just happened and what erin and justin are up to but WHY do i feel like they just had sex so they could have a gaia-like baby

is justin turning into the hulk or orc

Justins arm is turning into a sword

Is justin turning into drake...

Or orc/britney? Orc/britney/justin?

If Aristotle Arno Adamo is anything like Ari from Aaddtsotu i already love him

oh he’s not

Armo is the Quinn of Monster pass it on

Will Quinn be mentioned in this book?

“Armo was not part of any clique, because there was one, only one Armo at Malibu High School” oh my god he’s awful i love him

“I want to take Danish. My family is danish” bitch mine too

“You understand that everyone in Denmark speaks english right? Usually better than most Americans?” drag america i love t

god i love him

armo just survived a serious accident and he’s crying because he wreacked his car whaya guy

what are they doing to armo :(((

SHADE WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT

noo poor cruz

whyy would mg introduce malik tenerife, the biggest sweetheart and shade’s closest friend and make me fall in love with him, and then in the SAME CHAPTER introduce cruz, a new best friend for shade and then just never mention malik again???? i love cruz but i miss malik

where is knightmare

“I REREAD THE ELLISON BOOK” ASTRID WROTE A BOOK

yikes a milady dude and homophobia all in one page!!

WHY IS EVERYONE IN THIS BOOK JUST TRANSFORMING INTO BOOKS

oh shit i just understood why mg says this is part animorphs

Malik’s back my boy

DEKKAS CAT IS NAMED EDITH WINDSOR I JUST----

DEKKA TOOK THE FRAMED PICTURE OF BRIANNA WITH HER OH MY GODDD

“Only now did Dekka see that those last four years had been a dream, unreal, somehow. The FAYZ was real.” dekka bby no :(((

oh my goooood taylor is back bitches i just got chills

SHE GRABBED THE CELEBRITY GOSSIP MAGAZINES OF COURSE SHE DID I LOVE HER

dekka be nice to taylor she’s had a hard life she deserves to know the goss :))

when they’re only talking baout the kids with power... when will edilio come in

aaaand there is drake ugh. “a violent, sadistic psychopath. A rapist. A torturer. A murderer”

EDILIO WAS THERE TOO THERE TOO THE FUCK

DID MG FORGET EDILIO ECISTS

BRIANNA DEKKA SAM ASTRID TAYLOR DRAKE LANA HUNTER ORC HAVE ALL BEN MENTIONED

WHERE IS EDILIO AND LANA

Drake responsible for 18 instances of rape mutilation and murder in the last year y i k e s

Justin has a lobster claw for one hand and a sword for the other o k a y

oh my god shade could kill tr*mp

“There are three types of superheroes, Shade: Hero, Villain and Monster” *looks into the camera like i’m on the office*

CAINE AND PENNY GOT THEIR MENTIONS

NOW GIVE ME EDILIO

Malik is still in love with shade rip me

oh no cruz bby you’re invisible :((

i feel like this series will be more hard sci-fi with aliens and government and powers than gone was, gone was more of a sci-fi/dystopian/lord of the flies/survival-mix

i’m worried about armo :((

me: had never read an animorphs book in my life also me: wow this reminds me so much of animorphs!

HES A POLAR BEAR NOW

THEY’RE LITERALLY SAYING THE WORD MORPHING

should be interesting to see what kind of shit mg will get for this y i k e s

WHAT THE FUCKKKKKK IS HAPØENING THE SEAN WAS HE TURNING INTO A CATERPILLAR WITH NO MOUTH WHAT THE FUCK HE IS FOUR YEARS OLD

OH THERES HIS MOUTH WHAT THE FUCK

fuuuuck i knew he would be knightmare

at least knightmare really is the name of a shitty pretentious art student dude

a group of girl scouts just fell to their deaths off the golden gate bridge

WHO ARE THE DARK WATCHERS

i actually think they’re aliens

pls get over brianna dekka

at least mg is realizing that brekka was kind of weird

why is dekka watching danish sex. what does that even mean.

this book is unrealistic bc it’s page number 208 and dekka still hasn’t thought about edilio. who goes that long without thinking about edilio.

oh no dekka is morphing with some animal too

DEKKA HAS MEDUSA HAIR WHAT THE FUCK

the cat died WHAT THE FUCK

“Motorcycle gangs and white supremacists and registered sex offenders, that’s who dominated Perdido Beach today” yikes

Dekka mentioned the word gaiaphage and i had a physical disgusted reaction, but not because of the actual gaiaphage, but bc of that fucking website. god i lvoe that gaiaphage.com is dead.

why has mg created a worldwide perdido beach situation but just given is three books to fix it

“I was Sam’s soldier” NO??? You wrre edilio’s soldier the fuck

EVERY TIME I SEE EDITH MY HEART SKIPS BECAUSE IT STARTS WITH EDI AND I THINK ITS FINALLY GOING TO BE EDILIO

Armo and Dekka is my new brotp

WHO THE FUCK IS JEHOVA

LESS VILLAIN POVS MICHAEL PLEASE

“Hey. You. Should. Um.... Stop. Being. An. Asshole.” SHADE

Combining the villains into one villain. Very schmart michael 👌🏻

PAGE 308 EDILIO MENTION OH MY GOD

Edilio on page 309 kill me cant even quote it

GRAVES STILL THERE

IN RESPECTFUL MEMORY TO BOTH THE WISE AND THE FOOLISH WHO STRUGGLED TO SURVIVE UNSPEAKABLE HORRORS IN THIS PLACE im 😭😭

ALBERT GOT HIS DUES YEAH

BUT HOW IS EDILIO TODAY

WHERE IS DINAA LOSER

GRAVE FOR MARY 😭

GRAVE FOR DUCK 😭

GRAVE FOR HUNTER 😭

GRAVE FOR ORC 😭

Grave for Caine 😐 “Caine Soren. “King of the FAYZ. Blaze of Glory”

FIRST DIANA MENTION AND ITS HOW MUU CAINE LOVED HER IM

BRIANNA HAS A LAST NAME SOS. “Brianna Berenson. “The Breeze”. None More Bold.”

DIANA IS HERE I REPEAT DIANA IS HERE IN THE FLESH AND STILL BEAUTIFUL

DIANA PUTS FLOWERS ON THE GRAVES ONCE A WEEK OH MY HOD YOU HAVE NOTHING TO BE SORRY ABOUT I MEAN YOU DID GIVE BIRTH TO GAIA AND EAT PANDA BUT STILL

DIANA HAS A JOB AS A BARISTA HER OWN PLACE IS SEVEN MONTHS SOBER AND HAVENT TRIED TO KILL HERSELF LATELY

WAS HER AND SAM DRINKING BUDDIES

THEY SERVE A SAM TEMPLE CUCKTAIL AND A LANA VODKA

“I GUESS THEIRONY THAT FAYZERS HAVE A TENDENCY TO DRINK TOO MUCH IS LOST ON THEM” TELL THEM DEKKA

“YOU WERE GOOD TO KEEP SAM AND STRID OUT OF IT” NO TELL THEM LOSERS

DOES DIANA LIVE IN PERDIDO BEACH :((((

“THIS IS THE MOST INTIMATE IVE EVER BEEN WITH A DUDE” SAME

When Roger still hasn’t been mentioned and you know he wasn’t really that important so you can’t really complained but you miss him

and how is edilio really dekka hmmm???

Eww this Drake Brittany thing is worse if possible

wait wait wait what hoe did they get there what

if i finish monster and still don’t know how edilio is doing i’ll sue

the villain...breathes fire. he’s a dragon

Shade looks like a the bizzare cross between a flea, a Power Ranger and a teenaged girl w h a t

Vincent Vu: part fish!

noooo not malik :(((

one half of me: where the fck is edilio go talk to him dekka other half of me: edilio deserves a peaceful life thank i for keeping him away from it all

OKAY BUT WOULD EDILIO AND SAM AND EVERYONE SEE DEKKA ON THE FBI MOST WANTED LIST AND HEAR ABOUT EVERYTHING GOING ON AND SAY YIKES NOT OUR PROBLEM??? No tf they would help her!!!!

DEKKA IS WITH SAM DEKKA IS WITH SAM I REPEAT DEKKA IS WITH SAM AND HE IS HER STRONG RIGHT ARM SHOOT ME LET ME DIE

im emo

the end

missing: quinn and roger

#gone series #just a warning this is a really long list of notes siukfdsasdkf #hightlighst include: this book is unrealistic nobody goes this long without thinking about edilio #Shade looks like a bizzare cross between a flea a power ranger and a teenaged girl #and ''why is dekka watching danish sex. what does that even mean''#i recommend this for gone-fans who doesn't want to read monster but wants to know what it's all about #and for people who have read monster and need a dumb refreshed before villain

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draqcnheartstrinq · 7 years ago

Text

Before the Storm

Minho (TMR)

Requested: Anonymous asked: I always wanted a fanfiction about what happened to Minho while wicked had him (not a xReader). Do you have any ideas of what they could have done to him? (Experiments, took blood, torture, tests)

Word count: 2.190

Warning: Torture, human experiments, mild child abuse? Anything you can expect from W.I.C.K.E.D. Also my accuracy to the storyline of TMR might not be quite on point because it’s a while ago since I read the books. Please forgive me? Spoilers (if you haven’t read the prequel to The Maze Runner).

(I’m not native English so if there are any mistakes that bother you, don’t hesitate to send me a message!) I’m sorry that it took me so long to actually post this request! I hope this lovely nonny can stil enjoy. (Also sorry this is posted on Valentine’s day... Don’t really have an excuse for that one, just felt like posting I guess hehe.)

A little boy, trapped inside his own attic.

Heat licking at his skin, sweat dripping down his chest. Mother and Father, somewhere in the house beneath his feet, not heard since the shrill and empty screams that seeped through the wooden panels and walls.

They told him to stay inside the house, not to leave the safe interior, not to venture into the wild outdoors. They had left him with enough food to survive for at least two weeks on his own.

He had been there for almost three now.

His fingers picked at the worn out seems of the dirty clothes he wore. His tiny and starved body was lost between the too large rags. His eyes as red as the dried up blood underneath his nails. Tears rolled freely down his cheeks, wetting the tips of his lashes.

It was like a curse, being alive. ‘Cause it was more painful than being amongst the dead. Still, motionless, waiting.

A game of waiting.

And when he finally heard a loud bang, emitted from the house he hid in, he thought the game was finally over. Three voices, three pairs of feet thumping against the wooden floor. Just like he felt his heartbeat thumping against his temples. They burst through the ledge of the attic. Two clad in full black, one in white. They came for him. They wanted him. They needed him.

When he got dragged away from his safe haven, he struggled, he fought. His parents told him to stay inside, and he so desperately wanted to. There was no hope left for him in the house, yes, he knew that. But was there any hope left for him elsewhere? With the people who stole the security and the constant of his own home?

His mother’s body enveloped by his father’s arms, totally unmoving and lifeless, was the last picture that his brain could register.

However, no tears were left to shed.

*~*~*~*~*~*

He got assigned to a room with numerous bunk beds. Beds that were still left untouched, beds with pure white sheets and iron frames. The boy went straight for one on top, still feeling as if high up was safer just like his attic at home. High and dry, his mother used to say. The little kid didn’t quite understand her choice of words, but he kept the habit ever since.

High and dry.

The room didn’t have any windows. Neither did it have any closets or chairs. Just beds, an ocean of beds.

High and dry, high and dry.

He hadn’t seen the environment outside of the building, the people had blindfolded him before he got a single glimpse. They didn’t just take his home, they also took his way back.

A few days past. He counted every single one of them. Seven, a week, a week had past and until now the door of the room was only opened when they came to bring him food and clean clothes.

They were also trying to steal his name.

The birth name he had been given and listened to for 6 whole years. They used his name, he heard them whisper it until he didn’t want to hear it slip from their lips any longer. It sounded like venom dripping past their throats, when they pronounced it in such bittersweet ways, in such superior tones.

He reminded himself of the way his parents used to say it, with love and tenderness. But he had long forgotten their voices, only the haunting screams lingering in his dreams.

High and dry.

The mean grown-ups had replaced his name with a new one, and when they did he finally felt relieved. Minho, he was now to be called. Minho.

Even though it wasn’t his, it was soon to become his. The birth name didn’t feel like his anymore either. It reminded him of better times that he so desperately wanted to forget. They would never return, his parents, the fun times, the tenderness. Better to forget everything that reminded him of happiness. ‘Cause happiness was long gone.

And so they took his home, they took his way back, they took his name and they took his happiness.

But one thing, one memory would always stay in the back of his mind.

High and dry, Minho. High and dry.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Many other boys, just like him, were placed into the blank canvas they had to call their “bedroom”, their “home”.

One of them was on the taller side, blonde with a few tears staining his red eyes and cheeks.

Minho didn’t know any better than to run up to him, give him the support he himself had needed when he first arrived. As the blonde’s shoulders shook and his breaths jerked inside his throat, Minho placed himself next to the crying boy, staying there in silence.

Only when the cries from the other stopped, did he start talking.

“It’s okay, what’s wrong?” Minho spoke in a high and apologizing voice. The boy didn’t answer for a while, bowing his head down towards the ground whilst his legs were pulled to his heaving chest.

“They took my sister”, he eventually whispered. It came out as a soft cry, so silently Minho had almost missed it.

“Well, I’m sure she’s fine, just like all of us, she’s probably somewhere in another room.�� He tried to give the blonde some hope, tried to reason and look at things in a positive way. Which was all pretty outstanding in the situation they found themselves in.

“They killed my parents,” he responded, “they’re trying to change my name, they’re calling me Newt now.”

Those words contained a totally different meaning, those words reopened some wounds for the both of them.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Needles and tubes were stuck inside his body, meds and pills were being pushed down his throat, mental and physical tests were making his muscles ache and his mind rage.

He wanted to scream, he wanted to fight, he wanted to get out of there. But Minho had learned the hard way.

With a few of his friends, four in total, they had tried to flee from W.I.C.K.E.D. Tried to get out from the prison that the grownups made out to be their safety. The boys on the other hand would rather take their chances in the outside world, instead of being held captive and being experimented on by doctors.

Here they all were, in a room filled with medical equipment and training gear. Previously, when they were first introduced to their new lives and new schedule, they had to go through a surgery. They had started to live with throbbing headaches and stings inside their brains.

Minho was good at hiding his emotions, good at burying his feelings deep down, somewhere where only he could know they brewed.

And still, he felt like they watched his every flinch, every step, every muscle contraction and every thought that could pass his mind.

He knew he was being watched, he just didn’t know to what extend.

Maybe they even knew about those three words. High and dry.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Thomas and Teresa, the pair they called geniuses.

They were chosen, out of all these kids, to make a difference. Because apparently they were different, more valuable than the others.

Introduced to the group only years after they were brought to the facility, standing next to the doctors that put them through all this misery.

Minho immediately didn’t feel right about their introduction. Not about anything involving these two.

“They’re different?” he asked himself. “But aren’t we all?”

*~*~*~*~*~*

In the end it didn’t matter how the boy felt about the pair. Whilst Teresa kept her distance, Thomas proved himself to be an amazing friend. He met up with the group, came with them on their adventures outside the compound and at last…

He was the one who could lead the four friends to freedom, who brought Newt to his sister so he could meet her for one last time. She didn’t have the same name as all those years ago, but Newt knew she was still the same girl.

After all, the entirety of these kids, every single subject of experiments, they went through the same changes.

With Thomas at their side, Newt happy because he got to see his sibling, Alby keeping them on the right path, Chuck as the new one,...

Minho felt like he finally had a family again.

*~*~*~*~*~*

In his room, floating, sinking, drowning.

One evening was all that was needed for Minho to brake. His thoughts cornered themselves. They weren’t free in his own head. They were trapped by the cage that W.I.C.K.E.D. had implanted.

Arms of steel. A knife. Creeking sounds. A sting. Threatening teeth. A scream.

That night in the cell flashed through him like a memory of a dream. He knew it wasn’t a dream. It had hurt, adrenaline had rushed through him, had made him go insane under that creatures breath.

He was gone. The boy from the attic, the one that everyone had known, he didn’t exist anymore. They stole him away. Taken ones again.

Minho was spread over his white sheets, his face now just as blank as the room around him. His thoughts were nothing but a memory of that night. Still, motionless, alone.

And then in the distance, he heard her whisper. High and dry.

*~*~*~*~*~*

The boy that he was meant to trust, was nothing more than a liar. He was a part of this process, a part of this organisation. The one who was now, officially, about to take everything.

Everything they could grasp, everything they could erase from the board, from their minds. They took. The only thing they know is taking.

Minho got strapped to a bed. Wires were placed everywhere on and in his body, most of them were placed around his temples where the sweat was dripping and clinging to his skin.

They told him to stay still. “Count to ten and all will be over”, they said. But he didn’t want it to be over. He struggled, he pulled, he fought. Before he knew it, they were already pumping some kind of narcotic drug inside his veins just like they were with his friends.

“Newt,” he whispered, his last breath, “high and dry.” And he slumbered into a dream, one he would soon have forgotten.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Countless amounts of bubbles floated around before his eyes, some bigger some smaller, all of them containing a memory that played itself out inside of them.

It was like a photo album, where you could simply look at the memories, recite them, cherish them. One big photo album.

He saw his friends’ faces, saw the beautiful times he shared with them in the canteen, outside the facility, in their rooms.

He saw Thomas and Teresa, how they acted as friends but soon turned out to be traitors with an agenda.

He saw the needles, the tests, the pain, the monsters they had tested on him because of his misbehaviour.

He saw his parents.

And even though he forgot the name they gave him, even though he forgot their sweet words, he forgot their soft voices, he still remembered the smiles they used to give him. Their proud, proud eyes.

Minho reached out, wanted to touch the memory and disappear into that one moment. Where everything would be oké again.

Before the bubble popped, right before he could. He forgot.

He knew he forgot about it, he knew he had just looked at the memory and wanted to have it for the rest of his days. But he forgot. Which memory had he forgotten?

It was important to him. A memory of a person he loved! But who?

A second bubble popped right next to his face.

“The atti-”. The what? What did just vanish from his memory?

More bubbles started to pop. Right and left, up and down. He didn’t even have the time to look at all of them before they were deleted from his brain. Places, people, friendships, emotions.

His brain was being emptied, was being drained from all recognition, from all that felt like home. Minho screamed, he wanted it to be over, saw all of his friends disappear in front of his eyes, saw all their content faces before he didn’t see them at all.

Forgot their names, their smiles, their laughs, their voices, their shared memories, the good times, the adventures,... He forgot Newt.

He forgot about Thomas and Teresa. He forgot about the needles and the tests. He forgot about the pain and the torture.

He let himself fall onto his knees, into what felt like soft and delicate grass. He cried, silently, he could only hear his own tears roll and drip from his eyes. His own sobs.

Until one last bubble floated before him.

A certain woman mouthed three words to him, three words he was familiar with since the day he was born.

High and dry.

He was able to stretch a weak smile, before that bubble popped too, and he would never recite those words again.

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#the maze runner #minho #minho the maze runner #imagine #fanfiction #spoilers #minho imagine #minho fanfiction #tmr #requested #my writing #fan writing #the scorch trials #the death cure

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allen-messenger · 7 years ago

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The End of the World (707 x Reader)

Trigger warnings: torture, death.

If you intend to read the beginning of this one-shot, don’t worry, the triggering part is under the cut.

Genre(s): Angst, Tragedy

Summary: Seven has been spending most of his time making sure MC is safe, and the agency’s boss is disatistied.

’’Make sure that my next target won’t be you.’’

Vanderwood had warned Seven over and over. He really did. How many times did he advise caution to the hacker, urging him to care about his personal safety? How many times did he compel his colleague to let go of his feelings? How often did he reminded Seven that their organization could remove the two of them from the face of the Earth at the slightest mistake? So often he couldn’t count his admonitions anymore, actually. However, the redhead had always brushed aside his numerous lectures.

Of course, Luciel was incredibly talented. As a matter of fact, only him could undertake some of the organization’s missions. Even among secret agents, Seven’s skills were highly praised. Because of that, the boss had been rather lenient with him. Truthfully, if it hadn’t been for his abilities, the hacker would have been disposed of a very, very long time ago. Nonetheless, it didn’t mean this status quo would remain forever. And today, Luciel would finally learn his lesson – the hard way.

Although he knew this day would eventually come, Vanderwood had strived to delay the inevitable. He had been in charge of Seven for several years now and despite his threats, the secret agent had developed a soft spot for his colleague. For the longest time, he lied to the boss in an attempt to cover the hacker’s blunders. Sometimes, he would even reluctantly put in a good word for him. For god’s sake, he even regularly cleaned Luciel’s house so the latter could focus on the damn work. Even though Vanderwood had turned a blind eye on Seven’s antics, keeping the RFA’s existence a secret from the higher-ups, he couldn’t afford to do it anymore. This time, his life was on the line, and it was far more precious than Seven’s affection.

Despite his old age, the boss was unexpectedly sharp. The secret agent had no idea how his superior had learnt of her existence, but he knew a woman was the source of Seven’s distraction.

“Bring her to me. Don’t fail. You, of all people, should know what would happen if you were to fail, don’t you?”

Of course he knew. Disposing of failures was part of his job as a handler, after all. The agent wondered if his colleague would be able to withstand his sanction. In all honesty, the punishment that awaited Seven was arguably worse than death. Vanderwood remembered the face of the agency’s previous victims, drowned in agony, while they watched their lovers be swept away. Yes, dying probably was a better option. Unfortunately for him, the hacker’s talent was irreplaceable. Because of that, the man would not be the one to suffer the consequences of his mistakes.

In the end, the mission had been amazingly dull. It didn’t involve any risk whatsoever. The target was just a pitiful, naïve college girl. She didn’t even hesitate a second before opening the door when he told her Seven had sent him to check on her. Not like he expected anything from a woman who had unwillingly locked herself in a trapped apartment, anyways. Still, deep in his heart, a sparkle of pity was flickering.

30cl of chloroform and an old cloth. To the agency, it was all her life was worth. His eyes wandered and laid on her face. She was sleeping peacefully, unaware that her fate was sealed. Anyone could realize in one glance that she didn’t belong to neither his and Seven’s world. It was painfully obvious that the girl was just an average person whose life could be summed up in a couple of words: sleep, work, eat, love and friends. And yet, she would die because she unintentionally crossed the boundary between their realms. The handler weakly tried to dismiss those thoughts, but in truth, those jobs always left a bitter taste in his mouth he could never get rid of.

After a few hours, Vanderwood stuffed the drugged woman in a suitcase and entered the church. At first, the building seemed to be an ordinary sanctuary where believers gathered to pray together. However, some devotees could make a “generous donation” and “confess their fears” to the priests. If they had been benevolent enough, their prayers would be heard by God, and their dreads would miraculously disappear.

The agent made his way to the highest floor. After respectfully announcing himself, he was led to the archbishop’s office. An old man was waiting for him. Vanderwood reckoned his host must have been around 65 years old. Despite his age, the boss was a force to be reckoned with. Time and betrayals had never been enough to graze his authority, until now, at least.

For the first time, the organization’s very existence was threatened. Although the old fox’s power was significant, the agency’s client’s dominance was said to be absolute in the underworld. Rumor has it that it wouldn’t take more than a day for the customer to successfully destroy the institution. The agent had also heard that the said patron had no enemies anymore, as they had all been secretly removed. And unfortunately for the boss, that client had been dissatisfied by Seven’s delay in delivery. In view of the recent events, there was no way the higher-ups would tolerate the hacker’s behavior any further, no matter how talented he was.

“So that’s her… Agent Vanderwood. You may take your leave.”

“Thank you, sir.”

This kind of respect didn’t suit him, but he had no choice. His life was precious. If he had to fake reverence to preserve it, he would do it without a thought. If he had to sacrifice an innocent passerby to protect it, he wouldn’t hesitate to do it either.

The handler internally said a prayer for the woman. He didn’t believe in any god, but he knew that she would need a miracle to leave this building unscathed.

One hour later, a redhead stormed in the archbishop’s office.

“Boss! Did you do anything to her?!” He growled.

The old man peeked at his watch with a deadpan expression.

“As expected, you analyzed the situation swiftly. It is a shame, truly, that you do not work as fast, Agent 707.”

Although the hacker tried to hide it, he was terrified. No matter how stupid he seemed in the chatroom, he was wise enough perceive what was going to happen. He had to get her out of here, no matter how. If he couldn’t, she would die without fail. He had to find something... Think Seven, hurry, think of something, anything. Use every single cell your brain, even if you have to burn them. You can’t fail. In the end, he knew that escaping the church unharmed would be impossible. The building was crowded by numerous agents after all – some far more experienced than him. The only option was negotiation, but was there really a way he could convince the boss to let MC go?

“No, there is none. Don’t even think about it.” The voice was stern. The old fox’s tone didn’t leave any room for compromise. Argh, how sharp was this man? His acute gaze had always looked like it could pierce through one’s lies, but Seven had never expected the boss to literally read his mind. Keep thinking, Saeyoung, there must be a way. Every puzzle has a solution, right? There must be something I can do. There has to be. Truthfully, he knew that negotiating would be impossible. Although he was a tremendous asset to the agency, he was still a pawn, and threatening the King himself would be useless. However, he didn’t want to give up. He was the one who put a random civilian in this mess, so he had to save her, even if it meant he would have to become a sacrifice.

“Wait, boss… I admit I haven’t been the most diligent agent lately, but… I’ll work, I promise, you don’t need to take a hostage to intimidate me.” The hacker’s arguments were far from persuasive, but his head was frozen stiff. All his leftover neurons were already dedicated to creating coherent sentences.

“It seems you do not understand. This isn’t an incentive, but a sanction. When you entered the agency, I believed your talent would make up for your psychological weakness. It appears I was wrong, and it is time for me to rectify this mistake. Your mental training is long overdue.”

“Wait!” The young agent pleaded in an attempt to gain time. However, seconds passed while Seven was still paralyzed by fear. “Don’t hurt her, please! It’s my fault, I’m the one who messed up. Don’t touch her… Please.”

“Weren’t you told? You should never get involved with others. I am sure you realized it by now, but personal relationships will be the end of you. You have failed as an agent, 707.”

“I…” Words wouldn’t come out of his mouth anymore. His sight was blurry. Dazed, he felt like the world was slowly crumbling underneath him. In an ultimate struggle, the hacker pleaded the man. “Don’t… Boss, don’t hurt her, I should be the one to go through – that -, please! I’ll work like a slave for the rest of my life, so… So…”

“Do you still not understand? Agent Seven, this is your punishment.”

The hacker was dragged into an empty room, and solidly tied up to a chair. In front of him, a glass let him view his significant other. Just like him, she was trying to break free from her restraints, in vain. Her irises were filled with a unique kind of terror, with the dread of someone who was facing death itself. Seven thrashed around violently, yelling whatever sentences he could think of in this situation. He screamed her name, once, twice, ten times, but his pleas never reached her ears. He tried to attain the glass separating them, but it was pointless. His chair wouldn’t budge, no matter how much he flailed about.

“Seven… You said there was a chance you would come if I were to call your name while looking at the sky, but… What should I do? I can’t see it… from here.”

The redhead’s eyes raised, before laying at the speakers transmitting sound from her room to his. That damn deviant planned punishments so well. Seven had to admit it, now. There was no way out for any of them. Both him and his beloved would break in this church. The hacker would see and hear his dearest, but she would die all alone, drowned in the agony he inflicted upon her.

The metal door opened, and a middle-aged man entered. Much to his dismay, Seven realized he had never seen that person. There was no telling how much of a monster the torturer would be. Please don’t be a monster, at least that, please, please--. Repeating this single sentence like a mantra, the hacker stared at the agent, powerless.

“Yo, little girl. Before you start crying, let me tell you that I don’t enjoy doing that to innocent civilians either. It can’t be helped, though, that’s my job – and I will be in the same situation as you if I don’t do it right. So instead of blaming me, curse your poor excuse of a boyfriend.” The newcomer said, with a matter-of-fact tone, before sighing. He acted like an office worker whose higher-ups demanded they work overtime. He seemed utterly disinterested in his prisoner’s destiny: she was just the file he had to submit to his chief tomorrow morning, no more, no less. On one hand, it meant that the torturer would do his job thoroughly. On the other hand, he appeared to not enjoy making his victims feel unnecessary pain.

“… I won’t blame him. Seven… Seven didn’t want that either.”

“Whatever suits your boat. Anyways, the boss ordered me to break you. Here is how things are gonna go: I’ll hurt you real bad, and when you are on the brink of death, I’ll give you some privacy for a few minutes. Lucky for you, it turns out I’m pretty experienced, so your cuts will be clean. If you want a piece of advice, just throw away your pride and yell to your heart content. Say whatever makes you feel better, really. The dead don’t need ego.”

“… Okay.” MC answered, hesitantly.

Although a little voice in Seven’s head had been whispering him that MC would die here because of him, it was only after the torturer’s speech that he fully realized the seriousness of the situation. It wasn’t just an eerie nightmare. It was reality, in its purest form.

“I’ll start with your fingers. Then, I’ll go for your arms, legs, jaw, and finally, for the kill. Good luck, little girl.”

Without delay, the first bone snapped. The next digits followed their peer soon enough. Every scream of hers pierced through Saeyoung’s heart likes rusty knives. Whenever she cried, the blades twisted in the wound. The hacker thrashed around like there would be no tomorrow – and maybe there actually wouldn’t be any -, but still, the chair wouldn’t move an inch. His own cries confused with her anguished voice while his restraints lacerated his skin.

Between her sobs, MC whimpered his name. She was pleading for help, and yet, he was sitting there, paralyzed. Useless, useless, useless, you’re so… useless. His princess’s bones cracked, one after another, and the only thing he could do was observe her with watery eyes. He wanted to tell her he was there, right next to her, to alleviate her worries, but even that was impossible. Remembering how he ever dared to call himself a defender of justice made him sick. Wasn’t it hilarious? He pretended he could protect world peace, and yet, while in truth, he had been the one bringing misfortune to his loved ones. Be it Saeran or MC, all his precious ones had suffered because of his arrogance.

MC… The cheerful smile that had once made him fall for her was gone. The sparkle that glimmered in her mischievous irisis had long disappeared. They had been replaced by empty eyes, clouded by tears. Seven wanted to avert his gaze – but he couldn’t. He did not deserve to. It was true that he had sinned, and he couldn’t deny that he had to atone for his crimes. MC’s limbs were distorted because of him, because he had once yearned for a glimpse of affection. His wretched self had no right to ache for intimacy. He had been aware of it all long, and yet… He hadn’t been able to escape her warmth.

“I have to make you look a bit gory, but it’s almost over, little girl.” The torturer stated with the same indifferent tone. After lending a few blows on MC’s face, the agent rolled up one of his sleeves, revealing a sharp dagger. With skill, he carved a few wounds on the prisoner’s body.

“Yep, looks good enough. I’ll only ask you once, so think carefully: do you wanna die now, or later? I don’t recommend stalling for time – your boyfriend won’t come.”

“N—Now… Plea… se.” The girl’s answer was immediate. She had completely given up on hope, and rightly so. His powerless self would never be able to protect her. It was the cold, hard truth. Death itself would offer her more comfort than he could.

“Alright.”

Without any hesitation, the man planted his knife in her body. He pulled the blade out, letting blood promptly flow all over the prisoner’s clothes.

“I’ll leave you alone, now. You will die in a few minutes of blood loss, so… Spend your time wisely.” Having said that, the agent left, quietly closing the door.

A few seconds passed before MC’s voice gently put an end to the harrowing silence.

“Se… ven. I don… I don’t know… if you’ll ever hear this but… To… To me… You were… a real defender… of justice.”

Many sobs interrupted her sentences. In truth, the simple act of talking was probably excruciating. However, the woman gathered all her remaining strength to utter her ultimate words. On the other side of the wall, the hacker struggled to hold back his cries. Although he didn’t want to admit it, Seven knew it would be his last chance to ever hear his lover’s voice. His mind was full of screams, but he refused to convert them into sounds. No matter how painful it was, he had to focus on her message.

“You must… become happy… Don’t… bla… blame yourself, be… because… even now… I thi—th…ink that meeting you was a… blessing. Sae— I… I… ve...”

The final syllables were inaudible, but it was alright, he didn’t need to hear them to understand.

“I love you too, MC… So much I could die.”

He stared at her with eyes filled of sorrow, despair, and tenderness. He didn’t know how long he spent motionless, simply peering at the corpse who was once his significant other. The merry person who had once held his hand, guiding him through new lands, was now sitting on front of him, lifeless. When she was next to him, the city suddenly overflew with colors. When he felt her warmth, the stars which were faintly glowing unexpectedly started shining like jewels. She had showed him a whole new world, a realm where he could give and receive affection. It was her who had slowly, but surely illuminated his dark locker and who had allowed him to see how far the azure sky unfolded itself. Thanks to her, he had discovered how the summer breeze could caress his cheeks and how soft the winter snow felt.

However, the universe they once shared had collapsed before him. Powerless, Seven could only watch while his world turned into cosmic dust. Even though he didn’t deserve to love his princess, he prayed. He prayed that the heavens would allow him to fulfill his promise. MC and he would never be able to be together on Earth, but still, Saeyoung clinged to the hope that one day, he would be able to marry his lovely 606 in the space station.

A masterlist can be found here.

#mystic messenger #mystic messenger imagines #drabble #mysme #mm #707 #luciel #saeyoung #vanderwood

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maewestside · 7 years ago

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LIVE! SHOTS! FIRED! Or Each Day I Wake Up Drownin (Ten Ways to Combat the #Bot45 Blues)… by heidi siegmund cuda, aka @maewestside

I once asked a tv reporter in a local market how she handled the sturm und drang of the nightly gore. She said, “Beats being the guy with the machete in his head.”

Point. Well. Taken.

Bleading meant leading, til that one fateful day, the sales guys who’d taken over the front office determined vapidity sold better in the 18 to 49 demo$ than even the quadruple axe murder bits, and by then, new$ had already lost its way. Truth wasn’t factored into the rating$.

LIVE. SHOTS. FIRED.

A famed erstwhile entertainment reporter said she knew there was trouble afoot when each night, she had the lead story in a local hourlong newscast. During sweeps.

As live shots at death scenes and backlots became normcore, and the procession of vapidity, with occasional interludes of gore, is what passed for news, brains suffer dry rot.

So here we are.

MEAN STREETS

While admiring the dewy mug of a very young Harvey Keitel in “Mean Streets,” his enlightened thuggy character Charlie utters these words: “You don’t f**k around with the infinite.”

Do you hear that Scamalot? That’s the thunderous gallop of karma approaching, catching up to each and every player that figgered he could game the system with impunity, while the Great Unwashed was none the wiser. Chaaa.

With the outing of each pervy anchorhack, a Very Vichy MSM, and digital CEO$ who bent over to the pick up the rubles from enemie$ both foreign and domestic while profiting off the mining of our data, things are looking clearer.

Not.

Time keeps on slipping… slipping… slipping… Kochdrip… drip… drip… drip. The Un-Mercer-ful bot and weaponized our data… Churchy Stinklair is buying more local tv new$. Our media is owned by churchy billionaire misanthrope$ and run by corporations.

REAL FAKE NEW$

But let’s make no mistake about it: when Scamalot cries “Fake”… that’s on a whole notha level.

Fringe Media still flatters the Real Fake President because it’s owned and operated by those who installed him as a pukey puppet #burpfarthurl. Fux und Blackbart profited bigly off the ascent of Dummkopf45, but alas, so did the rest of the media which is why it’s swi$hy. Sometimes excellent, but mostly shit. Money vs Truth… a conumdrum.

EACH DAY I WAKE UP DROWNIN’

Having spent the holiday weekend mining the brains of intellectuals, activists and good cooks to combat the blues of our country’s Current State of Fuckery, I’ve comprised a list of Ten Things that may help those who wake up to this shite each day and feel like they’re drowning, i.e., sensitive to the crushing enormity of the labor of Democracy as real fake new$ pounds our shores, while Really Bad Men (and a Few Ponzi Women) disrupt all that is good about our country to line their own pocket$ and the pocket$ of those who put them in power #sad pffft.

TEN THINGS TO PONDER AS YOU BATTLE THE KLEPTOCRACY IDIOCRACY:

1. BACK TO THE FUTURE How to End the Oil + War Economy Now and Clean Up Our Air in About 100 Years: Use Fossil Fuel exclusively for commercial air travel. We’ve known how crushing greenhouse gases are on our environment for decades but we’ve allowed penny loafered lobbyists paid for by Big Oil a seat at the science table. Enough.

2. ELECTRIC AVENUE In two decades, electric cars will be normcore. Start now. Working from home and/or giving up your wheels best thing you can do for the environment; monitoring your own carbon footprint, big step.

3. SEEK REAL NEWS Until the Fourth Estate is Truly Unshackled to Do Good Work Always, Rather Than Just Spotty Sometimes, learn who owns your news outlets. For example, the Guardian is an excellent source for American news (it’s run by a trust and doesn’t need to run truth past the sales dept) and follow our twitter crew at @foxycuda and @tahoesquaw1… while Tahoe curates the critical news from around the world and finds the truth within Vichym MSM, I try to explain its import in verbiage suitable for a postmod CyberRevo. (Thus the comparisons to Charles Dickens and Hunter S. Thompson, for which I am grateful, but also blame Anita Loos, Dorothy Parker and Lenny Bruce for illiciting my pen-to-jugular style.) We are at war for truth and that requires wit in the form of better catchphrases i.e. #treasonsgreetings

4. WE ARE THE SANE MAJORITY We, the Sane Majority, are constantly told our countrymen and women are devolving into apey, when in fact, the Sane Majority is kind, and da small base comprised of the greedy, the churchy, and those who haven’t gotten off their block of un-opportunity. Those numbers are shrinky dinking as truth grows from the concrete street art. But you wouldn’t know cuz it Vichy MSM is still writing puffpieces on Not-Zees and the various Thug$ of Scamalot, while terrifying us with continual closeups of dictators, including our own. Move along. Or just join the Fringe Apey and watch the reboot of “Jersey Shore” as your Democracy burns and more journos die globally whilst trying to warn us of fascism #sad pffft… a better idea: flip the House in 2018 and #nullify45.

5. MAFIA STATE OF MIND Thank you to Tahoesquaw1, who wouldn’t rest until she knew I watched all three Zembla docs on the Fuckery of Dummkopf45 (“The Dangerous Friends of Donald Trump”), and a new doc on the radiation poisoning of UK citizen Alexander Litvinenko (”Hunting the KGB Killers”), whose dying image serves as a reminder that radiation sandwiches are coming if we don’t speak truth to power collectively. I feel compelled to be among the twactivists that remind the kindly people who are being brainwashed by Fux und Blackbart und Churchy Stincklair, that dictator$ and anchorhack$ aren’t our friends. We are combatting evil in the form of well-OIL-ed infotainment amplified by Bots preprogrammed by enemies both foreign and domestic, and it’s leading to a major identity crisis of the churchy, who give pederasts a pass if it serves their tax bracket or real fake narrative. Peel it back and seek the truth. Eyes wide open.

6. SING TOGETHER Who among you doesn’t have a brazen friend with a guitar? I joined Artivists LA and activist Samuel Curtis for some Resistance Caroling on Black Friday in Santa Monica, and the song we sang “We Shall Not Be Moved,” is still on heavy rotation in my mind, soothing me hourly as I recall revolutions of my youth sparked by peaceful music. Resistance Caroling is good for the soul. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gX7OW2MJRO0&t=10s

7. BE HAPPY Although many of us haven’t felt joy due to the deranged Pageant Owner in the White House and his sub par toadie$, it’s our duty to manage self care during this time, and that means doing things that bring you some semblance of happiness. I interviewed Dr. David Reiss, one of the 27 mental health experts who authored “The Dangerous Case of Donald Trump,” and he said it’s imperative we manage self-care during these dark days and to never lose site of truth. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z5XGeJ5Y8UI&t=26s

8. BREATHE Please be patient with humanity and remember everybody hurts, sometimes. As battle fatigue sets in for those who can’t believe a Pageant Owner Mobster is still our Real Fake President, despite how much factual information on the corruption from within we spit daily, it takes its toll on fractured nerves. If we divide troops now, we lose. We are the Sane Majority, and we will only win if we invite everyone to the party and keep them there. Even the glory hunters. Practice humility daily and realize those who don’t get it now, will eventually.

9. MOTHER EARTH Give us the keys. Y’all fukcin shit up. Imperative, we mandate the Nosferatu Cabinet of Scamalot to wear branding patches on their sleeves: #bigoil #bigtobacco #bigprison #nra #churchyfuckery #botbymercer #botbykoch #rupertscurvy etc. We can’t allow denier creeper$ to ruin our fragile environmental protections and continue to embarrass us on an international level. We already fought for these protections. GOP becoming the official doosh party poopers of the environment ramped up recently, as billionaires bot lobbyists to run interference on truth using God’s name so they could get one last $wig off the Oil + War economies. (See number one.) Use the system to get Scott Pruitt out of our EPA where he does not belong. And further, use the system to oust all the Real Fake President’s cozyboy$, aka war mongering pals thirsting for arms deal$. Old paradigm dies hard but it’s time.

10. BE DISGUSTED I was horrified to learn by a gal whose grandfather was stiffed by Trump, that many of her peers just think the Meinshit Show is funny. Ya, it’s a “Pussy” riot. Our Real Fake President cozie$ up to his dictator pal$ who kill, incarcerate, poison, torture or have people killed because they can. Go ahead, please remain comfortably numb while waiting for the door knock. Me? I’m gonna remain disgusted so I can continue fighting. Even for those who don’t get it. Especially them.

(Below, the author in Laguna Beach Nov. 2, 2016; last photo before the election. She wants her happiness back.)

#resist #resistmas #treasonsgreetings #maewestside #heidicuda #heidsiegmundcuda #tahoesquaw1 #selfhelp #resistancetips #resistancecaroling #singtogether #artivistsla #blackfridayprotest

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savedbythenotepad · 8 years ago

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Okay, so I wrote another thing (I’ve been writing things, guys) and I’m happy with how it came out. Granted, there are going to be mistakes but this is just something that I thought would help exit me from my bad mood. And it did!

We’ve been talking about Tony in yoga pants and crop tops because how can we not? And @thegoldenavenger drew this incredibly piece and I’ve been screaming ever since. So please enjoy pining!Steve and him not handling how wonderful Tony looks in crop tops and yoga pants.

If there could only be one thing said about Tony Stark, it would be that he was spontaneous. No one knew what was running through that mind of his and it was difficult to predict what he would do next.

Most people liked to think to Tony only enjoyed one thing and that was invent. It was easy to see why as he spent most of his time holed up in his workshop. It was easy to think that Tony was a person who only enjoyed inventing and creating, sketching out new ideas and bringing them to life.

But that wasn’t the case, it wasn’t the case at all.

Tony did enjoy more than one thing and the team knew most of them.

He was a fan of going paintballing, he loved playing the piano because it reminded him of wonderful times with his mother, and he enjoyed cooking and was really good at it. These were just to name a few but another one of Tony’s favourite past-times were revealed one early Thursday.

Steve had just came back from his usual early morning jog and he was busy guzzling down a big bottle of water. The sun had been ruthless today, its heat making him sweat more than he did and the inside of his mouth dry. He could hear Sam’s annoying voice telling him, “It’s important to bring a bottle of water with you at all times, man,” and there was the unmistakable urge to punch something followed by a gentle, “Don’t worry, he’s never going to find out,” and Steve didn’t know if he was going a little crazy or not.

No one else was awake as yesterday had been rather eventful due to a random villain that decided attacking New York would be great. The guy wasn’t all that experienced, called himself ‘The Maniac’ and had a laugh so high pitched that it could have rivalled an excited toddler’s. His plan for evil was to simply unleash a gas that would trigger a chemical imbalance within the brain. The explanation got a little more complicated for there and the weather was hot, the team was pissed and all they wanted to do was defeat this guy and go home.

Luckily enough, it was surprisingly quick but stressful and the guy was now locked up, leaving all the citizens to go about their daily lives.

So it had been a tiring day and once debriefing was over, dinner was eaten and goodnights were said before everyone headed off to bed.

Steve had almost finished his water when he heard the sounds of footsteps walking towards the kitchen. He turned to see who was entering the kitchen, lowering the bottle from his mouth to bid them a good morning, when his mouth suddenly went dry…again.

Tony waltzed into the kitchen, a towel wrapped around his neck, and headed towards the coffee machine. He was definitely awake which was a rare enough sight because Tony wasn’t usually up this early or he was but in the depths of his workshop. But that wasn’t what surprised Steve, seeing Tony in the morning was always a pleasant sight. It was how Tony was dressed that made words fail to come out from his mouth.

Tony was dressed in some of the tightest pair of pants that Steve had ever seen, the material hugging to every curve that it was torture. It also brought more emphasis to the already famous bubble butt and Steve found himself staring at it in all its round and plush glory. He had had thoughts about that butt before and what he would do to it if he ever got his hands on it.

But that wasn’t where it ended and Steve didn’t know who decided that today would be a good day to test Steve’s restraint.

Not only was Tony wearing the tightest pants that Steve had never seen but he was also wearing a crop top. A crop top that showed off a muscled stomach and strong arms that could surely hold their own in a fight. The crop top was the colour red with hints of gold and Steve’s lips quirked upwards at the sight of the familiar colour and the pants were black with the Stark Industries lettering on them. The arc reactor shone bright and blue from the middle of Tony’s chest and looking that somehow always made Steve feel like home.

He realized that he had been staring for too long and his gaze had come to land on Tony’s slightly worried face, Tony standing right in front of him. The two of them looked at each other for a moment, standing so close that Steve only had to reach out and his hands would meet warm and bare skin. It was tempting, especially with how Tony looked at him with those brown eyes, eyebrows furrowed as if he was trying to see what Steve was thinking.

“Are you okay there, Cap?” Tony asked, and Steve was quick to nod. “You sure?” he asked again before pointing to the bottle in Steve’s hand.

Steve glanced down and his cheeks heated up so fast at the sight of the bottle crushed in his hand. Tony seemed quite amused, lips pursed as if he was trying to contain his laughter, in a way of allowing Steve to keep some of his dignity.

“I’m fine,” he replied, his voice sounding rough and dry to his ears, and he mentally face-palmed. “I guess I’m just tired for the morning run.”

“You, tired from running?” Tony questioned, an eyebrow raised in disbelief as he leaned against the counter with his coffee in hand. Steve took a deep breath as he nodded, trying to his eyes ahead of him instead of the sight that Tony made.

“Yeah, it was hot outside today and I forget my water so,” Steve trailed off, now trying to figure out an escape route of some sort.

Tony eyed him for a second before softly going, “Uh huh,”, and took a sip from his mug before his lips curved into a smile. “You know, you can join me for yoga if you want.” He offered and Steve’s brain almost short circuited.

“Yo-yoga?” He stuttered, thanking Thor that Tony didn’t notice as he nodded enthusiastically.

“Yeah, Nat introduced it to me and it’s so relaxing,” Tony said, placing the mug in the sink next to him. “It just makes you feel so loose and pliant, just so releases all tension from your muscles.” He made a show to roll his shoulders back, expression going blissful at the thought. “Yeah, you should try it with us sometime.”

Steve only caught about half of what Tony told him because his imagination was already running wild. Tony doing yoga meant that Tony was relatively flexible, bending over with that ass in the air, lifting his legs over shoulders and all that muscle straining-

Coolly, he shifted until the bulge in his pants wasn’t as noticeable.

“Yeah, I’ll join you guys sometime.” Steve said, his smile slightly strained and Tony was pleased with his answer, sporting a huge grin which was always a beautiful sight to behold.

“Awesome,” he replied happily before looking down at his clock and giving a slight grimace. “It’s almost time for today’s session but I’ll talk to you later,” Tony said, still grinning as he ran a hand down Steve’s arm before making his way towards the door.

Steve didn’t know why but he had to look and when he did, he was greeted by the sight of Tony’s gently swaying hips and once again, that ass in those pants.

It was then that Tony turned back to look at him, his lips curved into a sly smile before he gave a knowing wink.

Steve’s brain blue screened and he finally crashed.

#stony #stevetony #fic #mywriting #i'll never tire of this #i will not

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ineversaidicouldwrite · 7 years ago

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2 hot for facebook

I always regret oversharing on this platform. although a lot of my friends are supportive and helpful, I fear others are alienated and offput. I also worry that my closest friends and loved ones are disappointed that I didn't share with them. I figure by the time someone is half done reading my rant, they're already annoyed that I'm getting so emotional. I started writing in my journal again. This is the same thing I did when I was 17 and I was living under the roof of my father, tortured by living in a culture phobic small town full of families built on oppression. I'm not looking to be portrayed as a victim, but it is important that my orgins are communicated, to describe why I am so sensitive about the things that once drove me out of my hometown. I know that although I lived in a lower middle class family and my parents divorced when I was twelve, I was still handed some ok cards. I'm privileged as fuck so that's the reason I feel the need to make posts that would have me labeled as a social justice warrior, (although it's been mostly trolls who have given me this label.) So I guess this is a big wind up for some over sharing. If you feel at all alienated or annoyed by this post please feel free to relieve yourself of the burden of taking this on. I'm sorry to have repeatedly interrupted the peace of your feed, but I feel this social network is a tool for us to connect, and that is exactly what I am attempting to do. Although I prefer my connections to be AFK, the magnitude and span of this platform is one that I feel I should be, (and you should be) taking full advantage of. I choose my path. I chose to flee a city because I was sick of it. I was sick of the homophobia. I was sick of the racism. I was sick of feeling like I had to settle to survive. To all those who have made their home in Miramichi, NB, I applaud you, but I am not so strong. I'm bringing all this stuff up because I feel as though my life has been a whirlwind lately. And when I say lately I'm referring to the last 8 months. Please be reminded that I am not asking for pity, but I desire to be transparent to the fullest extent, so that my peers can also feel the freedom to do so. I've been in love. I've destroyed friendships. I've destroyed relationships. I've cried for help and looked for love in all the worst places. I've been strung along. I've strung people along. I've been confused and have confused others. I've been going and going and never stopping for anything until I feel so overwhelmed that I prefer the dreamworld to my reality so I have to stay in bed until my body hurts so much from being horizontal that I must get up so I crank that fucking Angel Olsen record and blast "STILL GOTTA WAKE UP AND BE SOMEONE" I've had close friends die to cancer. I've had old friends die to addiction and mental health issues not unlike my own. In the wake of all this, I seek inspiration and I seek it in the platform of music. Now I'm not going to end this with a plug, but I really want everyone who knows me or thinks they know me to know that I am here and although I struggle I am strong. I admit when I am wrong and I admit I am often wrong, quite often many times a day. I know that regardless of how hard it gets, I am continually learning and growing and becoming something that I've never been before. I am a warrior and I am surrounded by warriors and we are not alone. We are strong because we are honest and we are bonded by our struggles and our challenges AND our differences. There's some people I've been so close to and now we have very little or no communication. I've been a big part of some abusive cycles and although I've wanted to apologize, I fear my communication with these people will put me back into a cycle of depression and trigger scars I am not yet ready to rewound. There are things I require time to be over so that I can once again treat people who hurt me with respect and love. Through all this, I know that I don't require validation, but I desire it, so that is the nature of these long winded posts. This summer I'm not gonna survive without good heart to hearts with many friends. Sometimes I feel burdened by my loved ones' struggles but I can be re-energized and I can be supportive. I want to help, but first I must help myself. Communicating about all this stuff is a big part of how I process things. There's been a lot happening, and a lot of changes, and sometimes I don't feel ready for them, but I know how to make myself feel better. I know how to be good to my heart. I know how to take care of my feelings, and I understand that what might work for me doesn't work for everybody. I take all this on and know that even though every single person is so fucking different, there is a lot we have in common. This is why I have felt like I have such a home in this city. Although now there is often situations and events that I fear I do not feel safe at, there is many more that are accessible and I have felt very much love returned from. So why am I posting this? Why would I risk alienating an entire community? because I'm done hiding. I'm not ok. I haven't been ok for a very long time, probably since around this time last year when I tried my run at polyamory and failed with flying colours of new pain I had never experienced before. new pain that I had a part in causing in myself and others. I've made so many big mistakes that now the people I once loved are no longer in my life and probably will never be in my life again. I accept responsibility for my actions but I am not ready to claim that I am healed. I post this because I desire to be transparent. I post this because I desire to express myself in a way that is free of stigma. I am manic depressive and I also struggle with delusional paratosis (since October 2016) and anxiety. I do not wish to struggle alone any longer. I am not suicidal, but a lot of my friends are, and a lot of people I love are, and a lot of people I care about haven't shown me much proof that I can count on them being around all that much longer. Some of these friends are the same people who have helped me through the same struggles they are suffering through now. I desire to help them and feel it is my duty to, but I feel overwhelmed often. It's summer. I go to parks alone and sit and write and practise chi-gung meditation and kung fu. I lock myself in a soundproof room and play guitar and scream into mics and record feelings I wish to grow and learn from overcoming. I have a few friendships that keep me going, and although often I feel alone, I know that I am not. DEEP BREATH I think I just needed to share all this with someone. I know many of you will not read much of this and I'm ok with that, but for those of you who have followed along until now I cannot thank you enough for joining me on this journey of self discovery. Although I'm often not ok with the attention I get from these posts, I can only hope that I can inspire you a fraction of as much as you all continue to inspire me every day. Thank you for being my friend. And if we don't really hang out much, thank you for not resenting me for being so disconnected. Sorry that I can be a lot to deal with. I really do love you all and look forward to what this summer brings us. keep your head up so the sun can shine on your beautiful cheeks and get those cute tans and freckles out while getting that siritonin flowing into your fierce as fuck brains. See you in the park you bunch of lovely punks.I really fucking am so fucking honoured to be a part of your lives. I think I just needed to share all this shit so I can let go of it and move on and have an awesome pride week Xx your friendly neighbourhood punk ass noisy hooligan kid

#confession #journal entry #letting go #moving on #freedom #pride #reflection #writing #journaling

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