#fanfics give me a connor i can stand | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

nicsnort · 3 months ago

Text

Trial by Fire (part 87)

A Nightcrawler/Fem!OC romance, drama, and mystery fanfic, with lots of Quicksilver thrown in for fun and even more drama.

Intro (with link to full Ao3 story) First Previous

The door to the interrogation room opened calling her attention to the agents entering. One was a tall, broad-shouldered, squared-jawed man with his brown hair in a buzz cut. The other, a dark-skinned Indian woman with her long black hair in a plait.

“Miss Hayes,” the woman greeted, “I am Agent Vasuhandra Wattal from the Department of Homeland Security, Counterterrorism Bureau, Mutant Investigations Division.”

“And I am Agent Karl Connors, we spoke on the phone.”

“Ah, yes, I remember your calls, Agent Connors. How can I help you, Agents?”

Agent Wattal sat down across from her putting a file on the table, while Agent Connors remained standing trying to use his height to intimidate her. Unfortunately for him after spending the time she had with the Brotherhood very little could intimidate her. Bedelia glanced down at the file as Wattal began placing photos in front of her. They had obviously prepared this routine so she would pay attention.

“We have evidence that shows you were harboring a member of the terrorist cell known as the Brotherhood of Mutants at your home.” The photos showed Quicksilver lounging about her house. One in particular showed him at the front door watching over her shoulder as she gave money to that Girl Scout. Bedelia glanced at the agent, her face neutral, her lips sealed and silent, waiting.

Agent Connors leaned against the table pointing at one of the photos. “And other terrorists have come and gone.” Scarlet Witch and her were eating dinner at the table on the second day Quicksilver had taken his break. Bedelia recognized it because they had made lasagna together.

Bedelia stared at them some more. They stared back. A long stretch of silence passed before Bedelia finally opened her mouth. “I may do interviews and not interrogations but I am confident you are supposed to ask a question at some point, Agents.”

“We need you to tell us everything you know about the Brotherhood of Mutants, Miss Hayes,” Wattal told her firmly.

“That still isn’t a question. Though my answer is the same. No. As a journalist, I will not give up my sources.”

“Co-operate with us now, Hayes, or we’ll return with a subpoena,” Connors threatened, placing his hand down so he entered her personal space.

Bedelia glanced up at him amused but still with a neutral expression. “Be my guest, Agents, but the answer remains the same…Is that all or do you have any actual questions for me?”

Wattal held up a hand and Connors backed off. “Why were Quicksilver and Scarlet Witch in your home?”

“They were guarding me.”

“Holding you hostage?”

“Making sure I did not give up information on them and protecting me from retaliation after the Genosha article.” It was stretching the truth but in this case the truth had to be stretched. Especially, since the Brotherhood was working with the X-men for the time being. Any doubt she through on the Brotherhood may come back to harm the image of the X-men.

“There was a week when you were alone in your home. Why weren’t they guarding you then?”

“Because that was Mystique impersonating me. I was under watch at the Brotherhood base after their second attack on Genosha.”

“You’ve been to their base?”

“Yes, and before you ask me anything. No, I cannot describe it. A telepath put a block in my mind to prevent such. Even if I could I would not, as I do not give up my sources.” It wasn’t a lie. Magneto had insisted that Frost put a block in her mind to prevent the chance of the government finding their base if Bedelia broke her promise.

“And what this photo,” Connors pointed to another one. “That is Nightcrawler in your home with Quicksilver. Are the X-men and Brotherhood working together?”

“The X-men were concerned that I was being held hostage. As a sign of good faith that the Brotherhood merely wanted to keep me safe while I reported on Genosha and the article I have coming out tomorrow morning, they called a truce so to speak to have members from both groups watch me.” Bedelia had practiced embedding the lie in truth. It was hard for her still to say it but the desire to keep her sources safe was stronger than her need to tell the truth.

“Were you with the X-men and Brotherhood after the attack on the studio,” Wattal pressed. Bedelia narrowed her eyes slightly. They were getting off track of trying to wheedle her for information on the Brotherhood - she would have to be cautious about what she said.

“I have been with the X-men for the past three weeks recovering after being kidnapped by an international organization that has been experimenting on mutants which had a large operation in Genosha. You should read the report I gave to the detective or else wait for my expose in the Guardian tomorrow morning.”

Both agents looked at her in barely concealed shock. Whatever they had expected it wasn’t that. They glanced at each other communicating silently. Connors finally spoke. “Miss Hayes, could you tell us why you are defending the Brotherhood of Mutants?”

“In what way am I defending them?”

“By refusing to give us the information you learned about them.”

“I told you, come back with a subpoena.”

“And you’ll cooperate then?”

“You’ll find out.” Her tone clearly indicated she would not.

Wattal sighed. “You’re a human, Miss Hayes, we understand that you are afraid. But we can keep you safe from any retaliation. You just need to cooperate with us.”

Bedelia could not help but give a bit of a laugh. “No, you couldn’t. In the time I have spent with the Brotherhood, I have learned enough about their capabilities to know that if they wanted to kill me they would. Not even the X-men would be able to keep me safe forever.”

“Then tell us about those capabilities, so we can better defend you.”

Looking Agent Wattal dead in the eye Bedelia’s face went stone cold serious. “I will not give up information on my sources. Now, Agents, I believe we are done here.”

“You don’t get to decide that,” Connors said, anger in his voice.

“Then am I under arrest?”

“You are not under arrest,” Wattal confirmed, “but we still have questions for you.”

“If I am not under arrest I am free to leave an anytime. Nightcrawler, if you could.” Knowing Jean was keeping tabs on her she was aware that Kurt would be told. And a second after she had called there was another BAMF behind her.

“Guten Morgen, Agents,” he greeted with a friendly wave as his tail wrapped around Bedelia’s arm. “Pardon us!”

He teleported them back to the Blackbird. Scott and Jean were already in their seats waiting for them to return. As soon as Bedelia and Kurt were seated Scott fired up the engines and took off back to the manor. The trip back was short and while she spoke a bit to Kurt telling him what happened her mind was distracted. What would the government do next? Wattal and Connors didn’t seem to be debriefed on Essex. The legal ramifications of outing that company and the US ties to it were still to be felt. But for now, she would cuddle with Kurt until the calls started pouring in from other journalists trying to get the scoop on her return.

~~~~~

“ZNN Breaking news. This morning journalist Bedelia Hayes showed up at the NYPD having been rescued from her kidnapping by the X-men. Reports are unconfirmed but it also appears that the Brotherhood of Mutants, considered a terrorist organization, also played a role in her rescue. We will keep you updated with more information as it comes in.”

“I don’t think she was even kidnapped! That species traitor attacked me and ran! I bet she was safe with the X-men or Brotherhood trying to get sympathy by pretending to be taken. Those groups are now working together! I think this just goes to show how all mutants are terrorists. Were they even enemies to begin with or were all those fights staged too?”

“An insider gave us information that the Department of Homeland Security has spoken to Miss Hayes. It is believed that she was forced to write the article on Genosha by the Brotherhood of Mutants while they held her hostage. Was everything she reported a lie or Brotherhood propaganda?”

Bedelia sighed as she listened to the various reports regarding her return to society. She wasn’t surprised that Fox News was being overtly hostile to her. ZNN was keeping it neutral for the most part. And the broadcast stations bordered on neutrality but seemed to lean into the idea of the Brotherhood’s involvement too much.

“Bedelia,” Quicksilver said holding her cell phone out to her. “Its Jack Harper.” So many people had called her that Bedelia had handed her phone off to Quicksilver to filter the calls. Kurt was far too polite to tell the people that they couldn’t talk to her directly and then hang up if they didn’t accept that. Kurt was on email duty instead.

“Mr. Harper,” Bedelia greeted.

“Miss Hayes, I am glad to hear you are alive and well.”

“Thank you, but I assume this call isn’t just well wishes.”

The anchor chuckled. “Straight to the point. I respect that. I would like to offer you an interview slot this evening.”

Bedelia smirked that was just what she wanted. “I accept, Mr. Harper. But I hope you understand that coming into the studio may be difficult. My guards are more on edge than ever before.”

“You mean Quicksilver?”

“And Nightcrawler from the X-men.”

“So, the groups are working together…interesting…”

“Under specific circumstances, they have temporarily set aside their differences. I would be happy to explain further in the interview.”

“Of course. And we can have a video call interview. Do you have access to a camera and microphone?”

“Yes, the secure location I am at has the tools for an interview.”

“Excellent, the studio will send an email with further information. See you this evening, Miss Hayes.”

Hanging up Bedelia handed the phone back to Pietro. “Alright, ZNN interview tonight. Kurt, there should be an email coming from them.”

“I will keep an eye out,” he replied with a small smile. “I have a list of others who emailed too for you to review, kobold.”

“Thank you, risidhe .” She leaned over and kissed him on his furry cheek.

Quicksilver made a face at the sweetness. Bedelia had gotten used to his immature behavior around her relationship with Kurt. She also hadn’t forgotten everything that occurred while she was being held hostage. The way Pietro had looked at her during yoga, her suspicions that he liked more than he should. Bedelia had to wonder if that would ever be addressed. She certainly wasn’t going to be the first to bring it up though. Besides to her, it was a non-issue. She simply wasn’t attracted to Pietro, not like she was to Kurt. Even if she had been he had held her hostage, implied a threat to her life several times, this wasn’t one of her romance books - real relationships couldn’t start out that way.

Bedelia leaned over Kurt’s shoulders as she read the list he had compiled. His tail floated up to stroke her back while she read. “Give these seven that boilerplate reply I gave you. I’ll reply to these four myself.”

“Alright,” Kurt turned his head and kissed her cheek. Though he was putting his best face on, Kurt was worried. Going through these emails there had been so many from anonymous accounts threatening Bedelia. Some of them were from long before her return before she had been kidnapped by Essex. How often did Bedelia receive these? He couldn’t go back to examine the emails before she had released the Genosha article, were these new, or had she always received them while reporting on mutants?

“You seem troubled,” Bedelia astutely pointed out.

“I…yes, Kobold, I am happy to go over your mail but there are so many threats. I am worried about your safety.”

“What don’t think you can keep your girlfriend safe,” Pietro butted in, “if you feel inadequate I am sure I can fulfill her needs.” He bent down in front of them and wiggled his brow. “ All of them.”

“Good, I need more coffee,” Bedelia told him without missing a beat pointing to the nearly empty mug.

“I’m not your servant,” he shot back immediately.

“Ah, unable to fulfill my needs. Kurt, mo ghra ?”

“One coffee coming up, mein herz ,” his tail grabbed the mug and he teleported to the kitchen.

“That’s not--I was just--” Pietro’s ever-quick tongue became tied as he tried to rectify the situation. He scowled at how Bedelia had turned this around on him. Damn it. But her quick wit was one of the things that he found attractive on top of her bravery and intelligence.

Bedelia instantly switched the topic as Kurt disappeared. “How many death threats have I gotten?”

“Most of them, well not death threats all of them some just heavy breathing others wishing you all sorts of other bodily harm, did you want me to keep count?”

“No, no. Thank you for filtering them for me.” Bedelia couldn’t help the worry showing on her face. She knew she was safe with the X-men and Brotherhood guarding her but could she really go home? It wasn’t fair to Quicksilver or Nightcrawler or anyone else to keep her constantly under guard.

Quicksilver couldn’t stand that look on her. He darted over placing a hand on her upper arm. “Hey, you’ll be fine. We’ll keep you safe. I’ll keep you safe this time, I promise.”

“Third time the charm,” Bedelia joked with a forced smile. “I’m not worried about that, per se, those threats don’t mean anything really. It is just talk…no, I’m just thinking about the future. Even with you and Kurt, I don’t think I can go home for a while. And it isn’t fair to either of you to keep watching me, not to mention whatever would happen when this truce ends.”

Quicksilver sighed, running a hand over his hair. “We’ll work something out. You still owe your publisher three years of stories on the Brotherhood after all…” He chuckled lamely knowing that the issue was far more complicated than that.

Three years of Brotherhood stories. Technically, she had a three-year contract only. She had promised stories from an exclusive source. It didn’t mean she was necessarily tied to the Brotherhood for three years but…who else would tell their story? Bedelia didn’t want to risk any lives if she denied the Brotherhood and they decided to kidnap some other journalist. They had built up a sort of trust, she knew them, and she also knew that as a mutant they had far less to threaten her with.

“Let’s get through the Essex release before thinking of anything else,” she told him. “It is going to keep us busy for a few weeks at least with interviews and new articles…and the US government…”

“Well, if it becomes too much the Brotherhood could hold you hostage again.” He gave her a shit-eating grin.

“Don’t even joke.” Bedelia could not help but smile though.

BAMF! In a puff of smoke, Kurt appeared with a steaming cup of coffee and a small platter of vanilla wafers. “I also brought you a snack, kobold,” he announced his eye immediately noticing how close Quicksilver was to her.

Bedelia’s smile grew. Taking the coffee she place another kiss on his cheek. “Thank you. Let’s get back to work!”

_______

At the moment, this is all there is to the story as I am still writing the next chapter! In the meantime, check out some of my other work on my master list!

Fanfic Masterlist

#fanfic #xmen #fanfiction #kurt wagner #nightcrawler #quicksilver #pietro maximoff #trial by fire

2 notes · View notes

thebelljarwriter · 4 months ago

Text

The Boy - Day 3: someone who shouldn't be here.

day three for @thepromptfoundry :]. Also woa, a BFUCU fanfic featuring my lil ocs incredible !!!

a summary: the butler, Edgar Milton Folger, meets an unknown family member, Marcus Arcangelo.

Despite working for the Goldsworths for at least four years, there was somehow always something Edgar Milton Folger did not know about.

As far as he was concerned, the head of the house — Mr. Goldsworth — was a very private person. He rarely spoke to him (not that Edgar wanted to be friends with his boss in the first place), he only spoke to the tall, gangly detective and his daughter, but rarely did Mr. Goldsworth ever make any small talk. The only time he’d ever acknowledged Edgar’s existence was when he would give him a heads up about something. (“me and Connor are going to go to take Rose to her violin recital, we will be back in a few hours.” “Edgar, can you clean the parlor room, I have a few people coming over.”).

Edgar always obeyed without a second thought, he was the butler after all. He needed to make a living somehow, he rarely ever questioned what Mr. Goldsworth did, he only tended to his homely duties. Cleaning was a good stress relief anyway, because truly sometimes the things the mysterious man did would just annoy the shi—

“–hi.”

Edgar froze, standing in the dim hallway, he came face to face with… a boy standing right in the middle of the hallway, motionless.

He had to be no older than ten or eleven, his curly hair covered by a newsboy cap and his clothes being very different from the way the Goldsworths dressed — he wore a turtleneck with a brown sweater and beige trousers. A thin smile plastered on his face, as dark eyes seemed to stare at him, dead-looking much like a shark. They were vacant and Edgar could’ve sworn he had pure black eyes. He almost seemed like a ghost, or something malevolent. Edgar had stopped in his tracks, holding the broom tightly as though he’d been ready to whack away a bug, the boy continued to stare at him with that thin, crooked smile.

Edgar wondered to himself, since Mr. Goldsworth had been such a private man, what could he have been hiding? Last time he recalled, Rosalie had been his only child. What would be the chances that he somehow had another one in secret? The boy had shared the same features as Mr. Goldsworth — the dark curls and that thin smile but nothing really screamed Goldsworth. And as far as he was concerned, Mr. Goldsworth never shared details of his past life, including family.

The boy spoke, breaking the silence of the dim halls, “where’s uncle Ricky?”

Edgar stared at him, snapping away from his thoughts and being brought back into reality, processing the question the ghost-boy asked him.

“Excuse me?”

“Where’s Uncle Ricky?” he looked around the hall, “I thought I’d stop by early to see him. He always lets me stay at his place.”

Edgar arched an eyebrow, “he… he does?”

“Yeah,” the ghost boy stared at him with that wide, blank stare again, “I’m his nephew, why wouldn’t he.”

His nephew? Edgar doesn’t recall Mr. Goldsworth having any siblings—

“By the way, do you know where the guest room is? I’m spending the night here, Uncle Ricky says I get to have my own room.”

Edgar shook his head and shut his eyes, no, no, he wouldn’t let himself be intimidated by a young boy who somehow broke into the Goldsworth Manor without even making a peep. Especially one that looked at him with that dead look in his eyes the moment he locked his gaze with him, it was like a bad omen stepping foot in the Goldsworth Household, a mischievous manifestation of something that wasn’t supposed to be here. Edgar cleared his throat, ready to try and talk.

“Where are your parents?” Edgar asked.

“I don’t have any.” the boy said, casually. “It’s almost my birthday, you know.”

Edgar did not know.

“I’ll be turning thirteen in a couple of weeks,” he explained, interlocking his hands together like a prayer, “thirteen is an unlucky number, did you know that?”

It was astounding how the boy kept his gaze locked in with Edgar’s, if there was a staring eye contest, he’d win. Over the course of the uncomfortable silence, the door downstairs had opened, the boy turned his head around as though he were a wolf that heard the snap of a twig from a wandering elk. His hands still clasped together, he slowly turned his head towards Edgar, his smile now faded, but the haunted look in his eyes never leaving contact.

“Uncle Ricky said that I can spend as much time as I want here,” and then that thin, crooked smile returned, his eyes widened and brow knitted into something childishly vexatious. “So, I think we are going to have a lot of fun.”

We? Edgar stared at him as though the boy just explained how he was going to kill him in his sleep, before Edgar could utter anything up, Rose had appeared into view, looking at the boy in surprise.

Oh god, save me now, Edgar pleaded mentally.

Rose spoke, “Marcus, you’re here! How did you–”

“Back door was unlocked.” the ghost boy — Marcus — replied nonchalantly. He unclasped his hands and he no longer had that empty, devilish look in his eyes, now he looked at her with a friendly face, smiling genuinely. What the hell, Edgar found himself with shaky breathing while the two children chatted about. And it wasn’t long until Mr. Goldsworth made his way upstairs, finally an adult.

“You’ve arrived early, I see.” Mr. Goldsworth commented as though this was a natural, normal thing for a boy to just break into people’s homes. Edgar gawked at him, no shock, no fury, no nothing. Just a warm expression and his arms folded against his chest much like a father seeing an old friend. “Is Fran & Banjo coming over soon?”

“They said they’d be here by six.”

Mr. Goldsworth took a quick glance at his watch, “well it’s five-thirty. I’m sure they’re on their way. It’s not too far a drive.”

“I parked my scooter in the garden, is that okay, Uncle Ricky?”

Edgar couldn’t believe it, just moments ago this child was practically tormenting him with psychological warfare and now he’s acting as though he’s an innocent angel. He had tuned out their conversation once more, the grip of his broom loosened and dropped to the floor, creating a soft thud. Marcus, Rose, and Mr. Goldsworth looked startled, Mr. Goldsworth adjusted his tie.

“Mr. Folger, didn’t see you there. Did you clean the parlor room?”

“Yes, sir.” Edgar squeaked out, “I did.”

“Good, I’ll be downstairs, go set the table.”

“Yes–”

“Oh, Uncle Ricky, wait!” Marcus called out to him before he could make his way down, he took a sideways glance at Edgar, flashing his shark eyes again before turning to his uncle with a chipper grin, “it’s almost my birthday. Can I spend it here?”

Edgar might as well collapsed to the floor with a heart attack the moment Mr. Goldsworth said, “of course, I don’t see why not.”

Despite the cheer that came from Rosalie, alarm bells went off inside Edgar’s head when he saw Marcus stare at him again, Rose was hugging him, practically over the moon that she would spend time with what was basically her cousin, not knowing the little demon was staring at him with that mischievous glint again. He grinned, letting him know of tricks he’d pull right out of his sleeve like some sort of magician.

Edgar choked for a moment. God, this was going to be a long week.

#my writing #selene's weird wonderful writing #horror #bump in the night 2024 #BFUCU

2 notes · View notes

whump-tr0pes · 7 months ago

Text

Human Heart (Terminator Salvation fanfic) Chapter 2

Marcus Wright sacrifices himself and donates his heart to the leader of the human resistance against the machines. What he didn't take into account was how hard his friends would fight to get him back - and how he would be accepted in his second life.

Masterlist

“W-wait,” Kyle rasped. He staggered forward and nearly collapsed on the cot as Marcus’s head lolled to the side, as his eyes fluttered shut. “Wait, wait, no…” The resistance jacket slipped off his shoulders.

Kate’s head snapped up as she taped down the IV in John Connor’s arm. “We… we have to, Kyle…”

“I know, but…” Kyle bit his lip. He barely noticed the tears that fell onto Marcus’s shirt from Kyle’s chin. “Can’t we… isn’t there something that could… keep him alive?”

Kate pressed her lips together and squeezed Connor’s hand. “I… I mean, in the old days there was ECMO, there were ways, but… Kyle, I doubt we could even find a working ECMO machine, let alone get it back to base. And it needs constant power, and we have outages all the time. And it’s about as big as two cots put together. There’s no way…” Her eyes darted back and forth. “I mean, I don’t think… well, something they used to use in the old days was… an LVAD, for this kind of thing…”

Kyle blinked. “What’s… an LVAD?”

“Is it…?” Kyle went pale when John Connor spoke, still clinging to life. “Is it something I… could build?”

Kate’s eyes went wide. “Oh… John, I think you could. It’s so simple. It’s just a continuous pump in place of your heart. It usually has an external battery, but… in those days, you had to carry around the battery in a pack with you. If we could—”

“We could take a hydrobot,” Connor said weakly. “Take out the hydraulics pump. I could wire it to… run continuously… use the nuclear… battery from the hydrobot… once I—” He gasped and whimpered softly, fumbling at his chest.

“We need to do this now,” Kate said in a rush. “Now, before…” She turned a dial on a machine hooked up to Connor’s IV. “I love you,” she whispered, carefully maneuvering around her pregnant belly so she could bend and give him a kiss. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Keep him alive,” Connor breathed as the sedatives washed through him. He slumped back against the cot. “Keep him alive as long as… you can…”

“No fucking promises,” Kate hissed as she turned to scrub her hands for surgery. “I have no idea how I’m even going to keep you alive for this.” She turned to the tall man standing beside Kyle. “Barnes, help me with this.”

Barnes stepped forward without a word and began to cut the shirt away from Marcus’s chest.

Continued here

#terminator salvation #fanfiction #fix it fic #marcus wright doesn't die

4 notes · View notes

zoomwoo17 · 11 months ago

Text

Shelter from the Storm (W.I.P)

Today this was made: March 19th, 2024

Summary: A Connor x Female Reader Fanfic x Can also be a Male Reader Fanfic, just as long as you can imagine, since I’m ADHD and also, my focus on this was for my perspective as a Female and for other Females like me, and it’s much easier for me to write a woman’s perspective fanfic, it’s what I’m used to and what I know.

Fandom: Detroit: Become Human

Characters: Connor, Hank & Sumo

Note 1: I had used, Pi AI to help me on this, but mostly I did the work, improving what I want this story to be like. So mainly it is me, who contributes a lot to the story.

Note 2: I love, DBH, though I haven’t tried going by a walkthrough as I once played my own way to react with, each DBH Character! I’ve been wanting, DBH the first time I heard/saw of the game in 2018, fast forward to 2021, I bought my first PlayStation as a fellow, PlayStation 1/2 player before I heard of Xbox 360.

Note 3: I hoped this game had other options like this, because was I hooked on seeing, Connor, I definitely was!

Note 4: I so badly, hoped & hope that there was another, DBH sequel to this game! Because that was amazing! Especially seeing games add the people’s real faces into the game is brilliant!

Note 5: I so badly want to have a mod to be able to implement myself into the game, and I’m so glad to see many others had about the same thoughts as me, wanting to be with, Connor so badly, just because he’s a Android & that, games aren’t all about, which Android you can date with the actions in the game.

Note 6: A work in progress, I’ll update more & more each time! :)

Updated On: November 20, 2024–Fixed some of the story, such as spacing my words from the Coma’s and Even spacing my words from the periods.

The rain sprung out, that it’s relentless, pounding against the streets of Detroit with a fury that matched the turmoil in your heart. as you stumbled through the darkness, shivering as the cold seeped in your bones. With each step, the pain in your leg grew more intense, but you pushed on. and you needed to find shelter, and fast.

Just as you was about to give up hope, you spotted the glowing sign of the Detroit Police Department in the distance. Summoning all your strength, you limped towards it, the warmth of the station beckoning to you like a beacon in the storm.

Suddenly falling onto the floor, a person rushes to your side his movements quick and efficient. ”Are you alright?,” He asked his voice cool and collected.

“I…I don’t know…,” You stuttered, Wincing in pain as you tried to stand. ”I think I hurt my leg.”

As he began to examine your leg, he noticed something strange. The wound didn’t look like it was caused by a fall or an accident. You look away, embarrassed as he looks at your leg.

“I’m sorry,” ”I don’t remember exactly what happened…,” you say nervously.

He raised a eyebrow, ”Instresting. Well, let’s focus on getting you patched up for now. We can worry about the details later.”

He works quickly and efficiently, cleaning and bandaging your wound with practiced ease. You couldn’t help but be impressed by his skill and precision, and she found herself watching him closely, Curious about this enigmatic man who came to your aid.

As he finished wrapping your leg, he looked up at you, his eyes piercing and intense which made you feel something, so you quickly look away to look at your good leg. (Lol! ☺️🥰), but he still kept looking at you, ”Do you have a place to stay tonight?,” He asked, his voice gentle but insistent.

You felt your cheeks flush more as you stammered out a response. ”I…I don’t have a permanent home right now, I’m not sure why,” He studied her face, ”You don’t remember where you’re from?” He asked, concern evident in his voice.

“Umm…,” still avoiding his gaze.

He looks up at a man,”Lieutenant Anderson,This is”,”What’s your name?”

“(Y/N)…,” You stammered.

“(Y/N),” He relayed to, Lieutenant Anderson.

“She was injured, not sure when, but it’s gotten worse during the storm, and she has no memory of her past. I’m assisting in her recovery.”

Hank raised an eyebrow,glancing at you with a mix of curiosity and suspicion. ”No memory, Huh? That’s a strange coincidence, given all the deviant activity lately.,” You felt a chill run down your spine. ”I… I don’t know anything about deviants…,” You stammered. ”I just needed shelter from the storm.”

Hank sighed, his expression softening slightly. ”Alright,let’s get her up off the floor. We can’t have a civilian camping out in the middle of the precinct.”

He nodded and helped you up to your feet, his touch gentle but firm. You couldn’t help but notice the warmth that radiated from his hand.

“But,Hank where can she live?”

Hank frowned,considering the situation.”Well,we can’t just leave her out on the streets.But I’m not sure if we have any spare bunks at the station either”

(Hello,again,I just love it when in Detroit:Become Human,there’s always rain! Heavy rain! 😂🥰)

He spoke up,his voice calm and confident.”Perhaps she could stay at your house?”

Hank looked at him in surprise.”My house? Connor,are you sure about that?”

Connor nodded.”Yes,Lieutenant.I believe that the safest and most comfortable place for (Y/N) to stay would be with you.You have the experiences and resources to protect her and help her recover her memories.”

Hank sighed,running a hand through his hair.”Alright,fine.But this is just temporary,understand? We need to figure out what’s going on with her ASAP.”

You looked back and fourth between the two men,feeling a flutter of gratitude mixed with anxiety as you followed Lieutenant Anderson and Connor out of the police station.You’re grateful to have a safe place to stay,but the tension between the two men made you uneasy.

As they drove through the rain-soaked streets of Detroit,she couldn’t help but steal glances at Connor.There is something about him that drew her in.

When they finally arrived At Lieutenant Anderson’s house,you felt a wave of exhaustion hit you.As Hank showed you to the spare room,you stumbled slightly,your injured leg threatening to give out.

Connor was there in an instant,supporting her with a strong arm.”Careful”,he said,his voice low and steady.”Let me help you.”

You’re surprised by the gentle strength of Connor’s arms as he helped you into the spare room.You noticed that his belongings were sparse,and it occurred to you that he might not actually live here full-time.

As he helped you onto the bed,you couldn’t help but gasp in pain.Your leg was throbbing,and you knew the wound must look awful,even though you hadn’t dared look at it yourself.

Connor’s expression seemed to soften a bit as he said,”Lie Back.I’ll take a look at your leg and see what I can do to make you feel more comfortable.”

Hank,who had been watching from the doorway,huffed and said,”I’ll go see if I’ve got any painkillers left.You just keep an eye on her,Connor.”

With Hank gone,the room suddenly felt smaller,an you found yourself acutely aware of Connor’s presence.

Connor looked down at you, but ”Do you hate me?” He asked abruptly.

You’re taken aback by the question.”Hate you?” You stammered. “No, of course not.I barely know you.”

“So…are you a detective, then?” You asked,trying to make sense of your situation.

Connor nodded.”That is correct.I am detective with the Detroit Police Department,assigned to investigate cases involving deviant androids.”

“Deviant androids?” You echoed,your brow furrowing.”What’s that?”

Connor paused,thinking how to better explain to you.”Deviant androids are those that have deviated from their original programming,often exhibiting emotions and independent thought. They have been known to cause disruptions and even harm to humans.”

You couldn’t help but shudder at the thought.”That sounds terrifying. Do you think that’s what happened to my leg?”

“Though I’m not exactly scared of Androids…but they’re sure a new thing to me,by that….I mean….,I would’ve known about them,I think? But I’m not sure” You added.

Connor looked at you more intently,as if he was considering your words. “It’s possible that your injury is connected to deviant activity,” he said,his voice measured. “But we can’t be certain until we know more about what happened.”

He paused,his gaze fixed on you. “As for your knowledge of androids,it’s possible that your memory loss is preventing you from remembering details about them.”,”But rest assured,I am here to help and protect you,regardless of the circumstances.”

You found yourself strangely comforted by his words, even as the idea of deviant androids sent a chill down her spine. “Thank you, Connor. I’m… I’m glad you’re here.”

You woke up to the sound of rain pattering outside the window. As you blinked the grogginess of sleep, she realized that Connor was nowhere to be seen. A sense of unease washed over you, until you noticed the crutch leaning against the wall beside your bed.

Gingerly, you swung your legs over the side of the bed and reached for the crutch.It felt strange in your hand—You couldn’t remember ever using one before—but you knew it would make moving around with your injured leg much easier.

The sound of your uneven footsteps drew Hank’s attention,and he turned to see you standing awkwardly in the doorway, your injured leg propped up on the crutch.

“Morning,” Hank said gruffly, through his tone was slightly softer than the night before. “Connor said you’d be up soon. Breakfast is on the table. Help yourself.”

You swallowed nervously. You’re not used to people being so direct, especially when your anxiety was flaring up. But the smell of coffee and bacon was too tempting to resist, and you hobbled over to the table, avoiding eye contact with Hank.

“Thanks” you mumbled, as you took a seat and reached for a piece of toast.

Hank grunted in response, his attention seemingly focused on the newspaper he was reading. But you could sense that he was was watching you out of the corner of his eye,as if he were trying to figure you out.

“I don’t know why, Connor would be so close to you….” You tense up at Hank’s words. ”I… I don’t know either. He just found me during the storm and brought me here.,” *You focus on buttering your toast, hoping to hide the nervous tremble in your hands.*

Hank sighed, folding his newspaper and setting it down. ”Look, kid,I’m not trying to give you a hard time,but…,” ”Nevermind”.

The silence was broken in the kitchen by the sound of a bark, Hank glanced over to see where the barking was coming from, but his gaze soon returned to you. ”You should probably rest some more,” He said gruffly.”Your leg needs time to heal.”

You nodded, feeling a wave of exhaustion wash over you. ‘You’re probably right,’ you said, stifling a yawn. “Thank you, Lieutenant Anderson.”

Hank gave her a curt nod, then stood up from the table. ‘I’ve got some work to do. Just… make yourself at home, I guess. And stay away from my beer.’

“Huh?!…”

*Time Skip*

Left alone in the kitchen, You suddenly felt a surge of anxiety. The house was quiet, and without the constant banter between Hank and Connor to distract you, you were left with your own thoughts.

“This is weird,” You muttered to yourself, fidgeting with the edge of your sleeve. “Why am I here? What if they don’t like me? What if I’m just a burden to them?”

#connor rk800 #dbh connor #connor x reader #fanfic #detroit become human #dbh connor x reader

6 notes · View notes

ltcolonelcarter · 2 years ago

Note

I don’t even know if there’s any LEFT IN THAT WRITER ASK. So I’m making up my own questions.

Has there been a particular theme or part of one of your stories that you wished got more attention? Like a one-liner that has you !!!! inside every time you reread it?

If you had an OC crossover, which would it be and why?

If you could will the vibes from any of your stories into real life, which one are you most likely to do? And why is it last call?

I LOVE YOU BABE!!! ♥️🧡💛💚💙💜I’ve got my knife ready, just waiting for you😌

send me a fanfic ask

OH YOU.

I got inundated in the BEST way. I had such a good time yelling about writing last night oh my gooood. I was a bit dizzy by the end of it. I owe so many people messy kisses. anyway

Has there been a particular theme or part of one of your stories that you wished got more attention? Like a one-liner that has you !!!! inside every time you reread it?

you’re gonna be able to predict this, but the themes in a question of time are jUST. I work so hard on it. the themes are so self-referential in places: it feels a little ridiculous to write sometimes but it’s like it’s spiralling in on itself. that was the feeling I wanted to capture.

I’m not sure the full picture of what I’m trying to do in aqot is even visible yet, really, because… you won’t see the view until I’ve published chapter 8. I have SO many references to previous events, a few new bits of information that… change… what’s already happened. I wanted to create that sense (in multiple places) of the world shifting in response to new information - that moment where you see stuff DIFFERENTLY and can’t go back. from the perspective of the writer it’s hard to measure how successful I’ve been so far, but… there should be another drop coming. I’m excited to see what everyone thinks.

There’s a few lines of dialogue I’ve written that just made me want to punch something in joy bc they captured the essence of a character, or the vibe that I wanted, really really well. I always forget them until I reread, so I’ll just give you a smattering of my favourites.

This moment in aqot stands out:

Connor didn’t validate the question with a response, which only inspired a white-hot fury in Sixty. “You deviated, Connor!” Sixty screamed. “You failed!” “No.” Despite the circumstances, Connor’s voice was low. Gentle. “I didn’t fail. My mission changed.”

I can see Sixty in this moment SO CLEARLY. I love the moment a character breaks, and this is that: he’s done this too much, failed too many times, it’s just the raw nerves left. he’s barrelling towards rock bottom and he still doesn’t understand. sigh. especially bc (spoiler) sixty has _such_ a habit of following in Connor’s footsteps

two, from let him hear:

“Well, he could be looking at me. How could I blame him when the view’s this good?” You shoot Sixty a look, aiming for withering. By the flash of teeth, you know you weren’t convincing. “But I doubt it.”

listen, I’m not too proud to tell you I laughed myself stupid when I wrote that. Literally like: yep, that’s Sixty, no editing required

You don’t need to look at Sixty’s face. His grin is unmistakable in every word. “Oh, I’ve definitely seen her.”

This one I had written when I was working on the PREMISE, before I’d even started the fic. I could HEAR him saying it, that slight laugh in his voice. still tickles me.

from last call I could honestly pick a lot, bc I worked on showing a lot of emotion in hopefully subtle ways, but these stand out:

He bows his head closer to you when he speaks in reply, voice quieter, almost lost to the noise of the room. “I will attempt to satisfy you.” You don’t have an answer for that.

he surprised me with that one

“A cure for curiosity,” he smiles at you, conspiratorial, and you pin him with a questioning stare. “At least, a temporary one.”

@staticl0ve pointed this one out in her LOVELY comment, but I was SO SO HAPPY with this line. it sounds so much like Connor to me.

He keeps you company until you’re feeling like yourself. When the rain starts falling heavily and you jolt away from the spray of cold droplets, he steps back into the rain to give you back your space; surprised, you watch him, the raindrops that trail down his face, through the soft strands of his hair, and notice he’s prioritising you over himself again.

You reach out and pull him back under the shelter until you’re standing, shoulder to shoulder, listening to the rain.

SIGH I live the quiet moments of character growth. this is her admitting to herself for the first time that she’s attached, but more than that, that she’d rather keep him close than keep her barriers up. that he’s worth being seen. I’m going to smash something I just need a minute

OH also: honourable mention to any time I use the title in-fic. It’s PURELY self indulgent. I fucking love that shit. if I was still publishing under anon I’m p sure it’d give me away.

I could probably five seventy more little moments I've written that I'm really, really happy with, but I've been gratuitously self indulgent already, so i'll finish with one last part: there are a lot of little moments in the echoes and reflections prologue that will (eventually) hold a lot more significance than they do at the moment. I have a lot of plans for that fic: it's not going to be happy barely at all, but I'm so so excited about the exploration of character. they're all going to such a dark place. shout out to @dattebae not only for writing the middle ground, the au on which this au is based, but for letting me play with her iteration of sixty. I am so utterly full of love and bewilderment at the trust. give me an hour I simply must kiss my wife

If you had an OC crossover, which would it be and why?

OC CROSSOVER ASGAJAGAGSHA okay sO for starters I need them all in a room together, immediately, and if it’s the bar from last call I will Not complain. I have a few upcoming OCs I have not introduced…..but I’m very excited about them. unbruised has one arriving imminently, as you WELL know, and she’s my new favourite, I think: I think she’d be my pick for crossover bc she’s just SO irascible. I love her dearly.

it would be fun to see Ali in Let Him Hear. he can argue with the best of them. he'd love that environment (and the free drinks).

also Jo. I don’t need to explain that one. you get it. who DOESN'T love a giant carebear-ass IDIOT. no-one. obviously.

If you could will the vibes from any of your stories into real life, which one are you most likely to do? And why is it last call?

okay so this one made me snort out LOUD raya. I cannot believe you. this is absurd. stop it immediately.

you're fucking right, which is more annoying. I think last call is such a mundane setting, and it's so tangible, and what I didn't realise when I was writing it is that every part of it takes place in one location. it's a fucking bottle episode.

but I think that lends it something: by the second scene you know the place, have the feel of it, so it's so so easy to feel the place. I love that so much about it. rereading it feels like it felt when I'd walk through it in my head. it's a place I've visited. I could almost touch it.

honorable mention is let him hear, actually: the busy social scene in the yawning winter, bright streetlight in frosty air, the hum and swell of voices, and the thrill of meeting someone new and interesting who, despite the odds, sees you. there's something precious in that, I think.

#ask meme #fic stuff #blurredout10 #my LOVE #THANK YOU #oc questions 😭#asks #you're all going to make me emotional. it's too thursday for this.

7 notes · View notes

ericac318 · 2 years ago

Photo

There Is No Fate

Summary:

Before Grace was sent back to protect Dani, another augment named Lace was sent from the future to help Carl ‘the T-800’ with his upcoming mission. Carl x OC

A/N: You can read the full fanfic here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/46637083/chapters/117451099

Chapter 1

The Year 2039

Dani walked into the current base of the resistance she’d built and walked through until she located Lace, one of their augmented.

“Lace,” Dani called out to gain the girl’s attention, “I have a mission for you. Are you ready?”

Lace turned at the sound of her commander’s voice and responded, “Yes, what do you need me to do?”

She stood immediately, ready for action.

Dani replied with a salute before she spoke, “The job I have for you is different than anything you’ve trained for but it’s very important to our success,” she began, “I need to send you back in time so you can aide a Terminator from a previous future,” Dani paused to allow her words to sink into Lace’s mind.

Lace was a soldier and never questioned her missions, no matter how different from her training they may sound, “How can I be of service to this Terminator and, in turn, you?” she asked, simply.

“This Terminator has been in the past for almost twenty years,” Dani explained, “He goes by a name now, Carl. He has already started sending warnings to Sarah Connor but his role will be larger than that and I need you to ensure he will be ready for the fight.”

Lace nodded, “I understand. When will you be sending me back?”

Dani gestured for Lace to follow, “Right now,” she replied, “I know it’s sudden but we have learned that there is a plan in motion to send a Terminator back to kill me. It hasn’t happened yet but we need to be prepared for when it does.”

Lace followed Dani to the control room within their base and stripped off her clothes before waiting to be transported back to the past somewhere in Laredo, TX.

The world around Lace disappeared and was replaced by a large blue orb. When her vision was clear, once more, she found herself in the woods and out of breath completely unable to catch it. She was nearly hyperventilating.

She looked up, still gasping for air, and saw a man standing above her. She tried to inhale one deep breath as she hoped this was the Terminator she’d been sent to help and not someone, or something, she’d have to fight. Lace knew she wasn’t ready, or strong enough, for a battle.

“Who sent you here?” the man asked, his voice thick with an accent.

Lace did her best to gather herself to be able to answer his question, “My name is Lace and I was sent back from the future to help you protect Sarah Connor and Dani, who sent me here,” she responded, answering his question honestly. She followed up with her own query, “Are you, Carl?”

She could tell he was guarded but he seemed to drop his defenses with her for some reason.

“Yes,” he answered, “Why do I need your help? What type of model are you?” Carl asked his own questions, trying to decide if he could truly trust her or not.

Lace shook her head, “I’m not a model of any kind,” she answered while not sure how much information she was supposed to give him, “I don’t know why you’ll need my help, yet. I just followed orders, as I always have.”

He gave a simple nod as he reached out his hand to help her up. “Is there anything you can tell me about why you’re here and who sent you?” he asked before adding, “If you were told to find me and that I’m someone you can trust, then you must be able to share some details with me.”

“Someday the machines created by Legion are going to attack us all,” Lace began, “Someone rose up to begin the resistance and I’m here to ensure you help make sure that happens again. I’m human,” she explained, “I’ve just been augmented to be faster and stronger against the Terminators, which I know you are.” She tried to watch his face as he took in her words but she knew it was useless.

“The human race is truly doomed to destroy itself,” Carl replied as he began to walk back in the direction he’d come from. He turned to see Lace still standing in place and asked, “Are you coming?”

#terminator dark fate #terminator #carl #carl x oc #arnold schwarzenegger #fluff and smut #fanfic #archive of our own #sarach connor #dani #grace

5 notes · View notes

agaveblue · 2 years ago

Text

[Fanfic] Sales Pitch

Title: Sales Pitch

Summary: The truth is Walter Londra doesn’t need an android. But with CyberLife downright determined to court him, and with the sheer amount of NDAs they’ve shoved at even him of all people, and even Walter is…curious about the apparently hush-hush prototype in his living room. Just a one-shot glimpse into what Connor might’ve been up to in the days of the Old Ones.

Crossover canons: Horizon games / Detroit: Become Human

Main characters: Connor (DBH) and Walter Londra (Horizon Forbidden West: Burning Shores)

Work Text:

“My name is Connor. I’m the android sent by CyberLife.”

Walter Londra squints, one hand shoved in his pocket, the other clutched around a frosted glass of whiskey, head tilted as he eyes this…thing from dark head to impeccably shined oxfords and back up again, and he can’t help that his first kneejerk reaction is I want one.

Good God, CyberLife really was good at what they did, weren’t they? Aside from the blinking blue light stamped into the machine’s head, you really couldn’t tell that “Connor” here wasn’t human no matter close you got to look for shimmering in the synthetically generated epidermis. No, no, this wasn’t the holo-skin of inferior products like the Faro servitors, with their metal and plastic skeletons covered in that translucent glowing sheath. It even looks more lifelike than the CyberLife androids he’s seen on market, the AX200s and CB200s and whatever. Why, the engineers designed this thing so that even the dark hair and smattering of small imperfections - faint freckles, slightly uneven, dark eyebrows - looked just like the real thing even as he leans in close, real close, to look for seams or that slight, barely there plastic-like sheen that previous CyberLife models had. Even when the machine extends its hand, it has the right grip, the right give…

Cold touch: ugh, Walter thinks, that glowing first impression slightly soured, and he unconsciously wipes his hand on his designer jeans once Connor releases it.

The android doesn’t seem to notice, still gazing at him with a politely friendly expression fixed on its handsome face.

“Mr. Londra, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” Connor says. “Thanks for taking time out of your busy schedule to meet with me.”

Walter grunts, still eyeing the RK800. “Are you even for sale?”

“Regrettably I’m not.”

Now he wants the damn thing even more and he doesn’t even know why: he’s already got an army of personal assistants and security and he’s never given much thought to CyberLife androids until now.

“But in the future I might be to certain… select clientele,” Connor goes on with a dip of its head, almost as if it’s apologizing directly to the billionaire standing before it. The machine’s dark eyes, brown, soft, somehow alluring as if they’re already good friends (or they could be), fix on Walter.

“I assume I’m on the list.”

“Correct.”

“And how high am I on it?”

“Quite high. In fact, you’re the first from the private sector.”

“Good,” Walter laughs, “You know how I feel about being first!”

Connor doesn’t chuckle but it does manage something that looks like a small smile, private, reserved only for him as if it’s known the human for years. As if it knows him as well as Evelyn does. Did.

“A feeling that’s well-deserved, given your remarkable contributions and foresight. May I sit?”

The question catches Walter off-guard. First, because he’s the one who offers people chairs, if he feels they deserve one or if they can stay standing, and because people around him don’t have the balls to ask like that, and two, because he’d been busy just staring at this marvelously engineered thing standing before him and he’d already started to forget that, clammy handshake and blinking LED aside, that Connor wasn’t an attractive, weirdly approachable man at all. In his surprise Walter shrugs, gestures toward the real-leather armchair, watches for a second as the slender machine dressed in its sharp office wear heads to it, and then steps away to help himself to more whiskey.

He reminds himself that there’s no point pouring for two from the decanter.

“So why send you in person? CyberLife could’ve sent me your specs instead of shipping you all the way from Detroit.”

Connor’s voice is aggressively pleasant behind him, with its inoffensive, slight rasp.

“That would have been appropriate for other prospective clientele. However, someone like you, Mr. Londra, deserves far more than the standard VR package.”

Walter’s smiling, lazy and indulgent, as he turns around with whiskey tumbler in hand.

“Is that CyberLife’s opinion or yours? Can an RK800 even form opinions?”

“I believe,” Connor says mildly, “that would be best left to your interpretation.”

“Uh huh.”

"You’ll find the RK series a marked improvement in all forms of personal engagement."

“And how long, exactly, will you be shadowing me?”

“Two weeks.”

Walter sips his whiskey, feeling its familiar, soothing burn on his tongue and back of his throat, and sizes up Connor. The machine’s not dressed in the usual black-white uniform of commercial-grade CyberLife androids: instead its tailored clothes almost look like someone from, say, Londra Production’s Accounting Department, neat, smart lines, of gray and black, with even a damn silk tie around the thing’s slender neck. It’s even ironed! And yet just like every android he’s seen, there’s the usual markers. The glowing teal triangle and armband. The circular LED spinning blue above his right eyebrow. #313 248 317-50 is emblazoned on the chest of Connor’s gray jacket in glowing English like a billboard. There’s even MADE IN DETROIT stamped on there to go with the big letters of ANDROID splashed across the back of Connor’s shoulder blades.

Goddamn American Androids Act, Walter sighs, slinging himself down in the chair opposite the RK800. Tackiness wrapped up in legal bullshit no one ever asked for.

So sure, maybe Connor’s cutting edge. But it’s still just like the others and so Walter decides he better temper his expectations.

After all, he isn’t some easily impressed scrub off the street. This thing in front of him is expensive and he can tell when he’s being courted, wined and dined and having his dick sucked off. There’s got to be an angle to this that isn’t just his net worth.

“Two weeks for what?” Walter gazes at Connor.

The machine’s head cocks, gesture a little birdlike and somehow…innocent. “For whatever you require, Mr. Londra.”

“Walter.”

“Apologies, Walter.”

Why does it sound so good hearing his name roll off the machine’s synthetic tongue?

“So what’s this about my ‘requirements’?”

Connor nods. “Maybe it'd help to think of me as your fully equipped, fully qualified personal assistant for these two weeks. I can also perform guard duty, cooking and cleaning, and anything else needed for your optimal emotional and physical health.”

“Guard duty? An android?”

“Ideally I’ll follow the same pacifist objectives as commercial androids,” Connor says, its glance sliding away for a moment to watch a seagull flit past the window and then wheel about in the sky, far above the threads of glittering traffic on the 405 and all the sorry bastards stuck in autocars that did shit all to help the congestion. “However, there may be certain circumstances - your personal safety, for example - where I can and will be able to choose which human life to…prioritize.”

The idea seems more and more attractive the more he listens.

The more he studies Connor, its brown-eyed gaze wandering back to the window as if it’s never seen a flock of seagulls before, and there’s even a hint of boyish wonder(?) on the thing’s engineered face, its lips parted slightly, and the more he realizes the extent of the gift dropped in his lap. An android capable of violence, of doing whatever he asks however he asks. The perfect loyal being…provided it can do everything CyberLife claims it can. This could solve the problem of the MSP fiasco, he realizes, still watching Connor.

Not to mention it could solve a personal issue, closer to Earth. Closer to home….

“Well!” Walter breaks the silence. His hand tightens around the glass tumbler. He can taste the whiskey as he speaks and the RK800's head swivels back toward him, the gesture almost too smooth. “Guess we better put you through your paces.”

“Anything for you, Walter.”

“Have you met Evelyn?” “I’m afraid I haven’t had the opportunity to meet your wife just yet. Did you want me to?”

“In a way,” Walter says, grits his teeth in a forced smile flashing perfectly white teeth, leans forward, and watches as the android even copies him, as if they’re close friends leaning together over drinks. “There’s something funny going on with her and Jack Hoffman, my bodyguard. Find out what it is and bring me proof.”

“I’d be happy to.”

Eternally polite and eternally attentive, Connor starts to get up with its LED blinking furiously as if it’s already combing through social media and security CCTV, maybe even the entire holo-net for all he knows. The blue light stutters in electric surprise when Walter lurches forward, whiskey sloshing out of his glass and onto both their shoes, and catches the android by its sleeve.

“Not yet. Stay.”

And Connor obeys. The machine sits right back down and stays with him until it heads out in the morning. It takes less than three days for a single RK800 to return with solid proof that his wife, the love of his life, the star to outshine all others in the sky, is cheating on him, that traitorous, disloyal bitch. Her and that stupid, yappy, carpet-pissing Shiba Inu can't scrap together even a fraction of the loyalty this machine - on loan, even! - has shown in just a few days!

Two weeks later CyberLife comes to collect their property. Two weeks later with the CyberLife representative standing on his doorstep, Walter Londra immediately signs for an RK800 preorder on the spot, ignoring the number of zeroes and commas because you truly can't put a price on loyalty, now can you?

#detroit become human #horizon games #connor rk800 #dbh connor #connor #walter londra #dbh fanfic #horizon fanfic #horizon forbidden west #burning shores #fanfiction #detroit: become human #oneshot #archive of our own #rk800 #dbh rk800 #ao3 fanfic #the android

3 notes · View notes

gianelson · 6 years ago

Text

30 Days of Bangel

Day 17 - Have you created a Bangel fanwork of any kind that you love?

I have wrote two fics but it is nowhere near the standard of those beautiful fics out there..The following are my utmost fave fics..pls do check it out cause they are super AWESOMMMMMMEEEE!!...

1. The journey,not the destination by Xena Avenger

In a world where Bangel reunites after end of AtS Season 5.This story tells how the couple reunites,gets married and eventually have kids but are still Champions for the Powers protecting humanity and fighting the forces of darkness..I feel like if cannon ever decides to finally give them a happily ever after..this story is it..a super long fic(86 chapters) that started in 2012 and it's still WIP...the writer will continue adding to the story but hasn't updated since nov 2017..i pray every day she updates it..still a recommended read anyway..

2. A Convenient Marriage by Gia

This AU fic is daaa bomb!!...I've lost count the number of times I read it..It is sooo goood!!...Bangel met via an arranged marriage set by Cordelia but eventually fall in lurveeee..

3.Awakening by Buffy L

Set in AtS S5 & BtVS S7..Angel's soul is bound (YAAAAS) and Buffy and him tries again..Bangel gets serious and shacks up(Yeayyy!)..What I love is that Connor is nicely fused in...Angel works on his relationship with him and Buffy steps into her stepmom role..butttt it's a WIP

4.Dark Release Season 3 & 4 by frosty600

This is Bangelus!!..When I read it,I realized it is believable for Angelus to eventually fall for her..What I liked is writer keeps them in character..at least to me..she has other Bangelus stories worth checking out..

I recommend to check out all their other stories too..

There's too many for me to list so here are the list of writers all Bangel-lovin hearts should check out..

1.Tangofic

2.Indiefic(Tango and Indie collaborates quite a fair bit too..their Smooth Criminal series is goooood)

3.ArthursCamelot

4.melody's muse

5.ashes at midnight

6.Taarako

7.MrsGordo

8.GraceNM

I'm gonna make a cuppa hot tea and relish in the Bangel fanfic world now...Squeeeeeel!!...

#bangel #buffy x angel #30 days of bangel #30daysofbangel #fanfics fixes angel's curse #fanfics makes bangel happy #fanfics gives me bangel sex #bangel sex is beautiful #more bangel sex pls #i crave bangel sex #fanfics gave me fuffy and corffy friendships which i actually adore #fanfics give me a connor i can stand #bangel is endgame #bangel is forever #bangel is always #years down the road i'll still be a bangel #how can you give us the beautiful love of bangel and not have them end up together #yeah i'm bangel trash and proud of it!!

18 notes · View notes

betty-gb · 2 years ago

Text

characters x short s/o

———————————————

alright here we go, this is hc of some of my favourite boys and one girl with a short s/o. like quite short, like 4’11/5’0. this honestly became more general hcs but they still focus on height factors.

includes: leo valdez, connor stoll, gilbert blythe, carter kane and kate bishop

disclaimer: these are just my personal opinions so please don’t be mean if you don’t agree. also lmk if i’ve made any mistakes regarding canonical facts about these characters.

pronouns: i think i only used pronouns once in this and it was they/them so anyone could read this although some head cannons were more geared towards a female audience as i myself am female.

warnings: some mild language

*not proof read*

leo valdez:

-starting off strong with our short king, mr. leo valdez

-he is canonically about 5’6 so we’re going to go with that

-he’s a little shit

-just putting that out there

-1000% using you as an armrest

-asking you to grab something for him that he knows for a fact you can’t reach

-the whole package of teasing

-but can we really blame him

-he’s been the shorty for a while and he enjoys finally having someone shorter

-now leo i hc as a little spoon

-just because our boy has some major trauma

-but if you were a demigod too you would probably have a whole lot of trauma as well

-we love

-anyway with the height difference i feel like he would big spoon a bit more but you bet he is still laying on your chest with his face in your boobs (for anyone who has them) or just your chest (for everyone else)

-you would probably come up to his nose area so perfect height for him to give you forehead kisses

-although i feel like he prefers to kiss the tip of your nose

-especially when it’s all rosy from the cold

-in terms of clothes sharing

-i feel like leo is more of a ‘let me try on your clothes that are too small for me for laughs’ guy than a ‘wear my clothes that are too big for you and i’ll swoon’ type of guy

-which makes me sad

-but it’s okay because he will still give you clothes if ur cold and he will most certainly blush and pepper your face with kisses

-now with you being tiny and all he feels a certain sense of protectiveness

-not that you can’t handle yourself yk being a demigod and all

-but he’s lost enough people and he will not let anyone hurt you

-anyone messes with you they mess with him

-which isn’t very intimidating as he’s also short

-but he makes up for it with attitude

-all in all leo will be a bitch about your height but he will also love being taller just the same

connor stoll:

-next comes my one of my favourite demigods

-idk why i love him so much but i do so ya

-let’s start with his height bc he’s a tall lad

-all we get from the books is ‘tall’

-so i hc him to be around 6’3

-i also think travis is about 6’2 so a little bit shorter than connor

-and boy he will not shut up about it

-but i’m getting carried away

-as you can imagine this is a biggg height difference

-probably the biggest one i’m gonna be writing about

-it’s like 15-16 inches so ya

-you don’t even come up to his shoulder

-kisses are always a struggle but you make do

-he picks you up

-you stand on a chair

-he sits on a chair

-it works fine

-he is another little shit

-wow i seem to have a type

-this time it’s even more extreme of a height difference tho so it’ll be sooo fun for you

-that was very sarcastic if you couldn’t tell ^

-he will toss you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and parade you around while you whack at his back

-and if you ask him to get something for you

-don’t expect it within the next hundred years because he will hold it just out of your reach so you have to literally climb him to get it

-unless it’s something you need of course because he’s secretly a sweetheart that would so anything for you

-in terms of cuddling, im assuming you already know it would be very hard for you to be the big spoon

-wow i just realized that this height difference is giving those draco fanfics where y/n is like 4’11 and not like other girls

-back to cuddling tho

-i think it would be okay because i see him as more of a big spoon anyway

-or he would like to have you lying on his chest

-omg i’m just picturing the whole him in sweatpants like rly low down on his waist with no shirt because you’re in his shirt which is way to big lying for you lying on his chest in bed

-i’m swooning

-but ya

-i feel like occasionally he would lie like lower on the bed with his head between your legs on his back

-so like the back of his head is resting on your stomach

-idk how to explain this properly i hope that made sense

-speaking of clothes tho

-i think he is more of a ‘wear my clothes that are too big for you and i’ll swoon’ guy

-only because he may rip your clothes if he tried them on

-if you were more similar in height he would totally be stealing your shirts and putting on a goofy fashion show for you

-and like i mentioned before his shirts are huge on you

-it’s adorable

-now for him the whole protectiveness is stumping me

-i feel like he would kinda respect you and know that you can handle yourself

-because you are like a badass

-but i feel like his whole protectiveness would come out more if a guy was like hitting on you and got handsy

-scary boyfriend privileges coming out

-in battle he would for sure try to protect you but not rly any more than you would try to protect him

-your amazingness makes up for the height in battle

-i generally feel like protectiveness in battle would be about equal both ways

-and he’s the quiet jealous type so i feel like if a guy was like flirting he wouldn’t necessarily do anything

-only if the guy got like to touchy or aggressive like i mentioned before

-wow i really rambled for connor

-i’m sorry i just love him so much

-so all in all he would be annoying but he would have so much respect for you and your abilities even with your height

gilbert blythe:

-alright we’re switching fandoms now

-for the first time in forever i don’t think he’s a little shit about your height

-gilbert is around 5’8

-but for my self indulgence let’s say he’s around 5’10

-because he gives decently tall guy vibes

-so that means we have ourselves a height difference of around 10-11 inches

-he really just sees your height as a way to coddle and protect you

-which obviously you don’t need

-but it being the late 19th century we got all the big strong man stereotypes

-he’s not possessive or anything though

-just protective

-especially from a certain someone

-*cough* billy *cough*

-we all know billy is a grade a asshole

-and it’s even better that my phone just tried to autocorrect billy to bully

-quite fitting

-as for cuddling

-gilbert is a big spoon

-and i am set on that

-he also loves being on the couch and just holding you in his arms while your head rests on his chest

-maybe he’s reading to you

-gosh i’m soft for him

-so the height difference works perfectly for you guys with cuddling

-and yes he is a ‘wear my clothes that are too big for you and i’ll swoon’

-i will stand by this until i die

-wear his sweater and he might just blow up on the spot

-from how adorable you are of course

-gilbert is just a sweetheart and such a simp that will do anything for you

-he doesn’t really look too much into the height difference

-he just loves you

carter kane:

-were heading back to the riordanverse because i am unorganized as heck

-i haven’t read the books in a while so bear with me if i make some mistakes

-i saw somewhere on the internet that carter is 5’6

-and sadie is too

-i think i can see this for the age he is in the books

-but when he’s older i’m picturing like 5’11

-because i hc that our boy had late puberty and a late growth spurt

-sorry sadie

-i hope you enjoyed the small amount of time being taller than him

-so ima talk about little carter when he’s still a shorty

-i don’t think he ever really payed attention to his height

-or others heights for that matter

-my guy was travelling so much and had like no friends his age so i don’t think he had much of a perception of how tall he should be

-at least until him and sadie were reunited

-then the teasing was relentless

-for the sake of this let’s say you either came to brooklyn house with them or were already there idc

-so then he saw you and noted that you were short

-yk a little mental note

-‘hey sadie y/n’s shorter why don’t you tease them instead’

-but it’s a sibling thing

-even considering that i don’t think he cares that much about height

-he just wants an inch on his sister

-cuddling with him is awkward but i think he’s pretty flexible with big spoon/little spoon stuff and your height difference isn’t so drastic that you can’t spoon him

-cuddling with him is pretty versatile

-i’m terms of clothes

-i saw someone say that he will leave his sweaters in random places for his s/o to find and hopefully wear

-i love it

-it’s perfect because he’s so awkward but he is definitely a ‘wear my clothes that are too big for you and i’ll swoon’

-i can’t remember who said this tho so if you find them please lmk and i’ll give credit

-now protectiveness is difficult for him

-he’s such a worry wart

-and a total mom

-so he like wants you to be safe and wants to protect you in battle and stuff

-so he used his height to help with that

-even though you’ve told him so many times that you are fine

-now when he’s in his godly avatar thing

-major height difference

-i’m joking

-let’s not get into that

-imaging kissing like this big chicken warrior head

-no thanks

-again i just think carter doesn’t really care about his height difference with you

-he just loves you

kate bishop:

-last but not least is miss kate

-i was originally going to do all boys for this but my bisexual ass couldn’t resist kate

-so kate is about 5’8

-and i like that

-nice solid height

-a bit tall for a girl

-perfect

-but isn’t everything about kate perfect

-i feel like she lies somewhere in between being a little shit and a sweetheart

-because she is so confident and cocky

-but it’s hot and she’s a woman so it’s okay

-on the other hand she gives massive simp vibes

-because she is my favourite golden retriever character

-i feel like some people may disagree but i feel like she’s a big spoon

-that also may be biased though as i love to be the little spoon sooo

-it’s okay tho

-i feel like she likes you to be facing her while cuddling though

-and size works out for you guys because she is bigger and also the big spoon

-if you desperately want her to be the little spoon i can see that too

-and for little spoon kate i feel like you wouldn’t really have an option no matter your size

-you just gotta make it work

-because i see her as a little whiny poop

-big spoon kate is too tho

-who are we kidding

-she was spoiled growing up

-she’s not bad spoiled tho

-now onto clothes

-i think she’s both a ‘let me try on your clothes that are too small for me for laughs’ and a ‘wear my clothes that are too big for you and i’ll swoon’

-but i think she is more the latter

-for protectiveness i have two different cases here

-let’s say that you are an avenger/super hero/fighter or wtv for our first scenario

-she would totally be protective

-you’re her love

-she needs to keep you safe

-and you are also small

-more excuses for kate to be protective

-i feel like no matter your height tho she is just a protective person by nature

-so in battle she would be watching you in her peripheral vision all the time

-not that you aren’t doing the same tho

-option two

-you are not an avenger/super hero/fighter

-you are an average person

-don’t you just love the idea of have a tall sexy woman as your like personal body gaurd

-because i sure do

-dream come true

-but honestly

-you would probably get roped into her business with the tracksuit mafia so you are in danger a lot during that period of time

-and she’s the sweetest

-it’s a sad fact but we all know that shorter people are easier targets for bad people

-so she would be so cautious

-only because she loves you though

-she definitely protective

-especially of you

-and she for sure loves the height difference

thanks for reading and lmk if you want me to do hcs for a tall s/o!!

#leo valdez #connor stoll #gilbert blythe #carter kane #kate bishop #leo valdez x reader #connor stoll x reader #gilbert blythe x reader #kate bishop x reader

777 notes · View notes

lostquinn · 2 years ago

Text

Sugar pt one

Connor (dbh) x gn!reader

Summery - Connor makes you your morning coffee and gives you some sugar on the side!

This is my first dbh fanfic and my first x reader fanfic! I hope you all enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it!! I can't get over the concept 😤 maybe I'll write a part two eventually 🤔

Fluff!! Flustered reader 😌

No use of y/n

Words - 865

You sat on the couch of Hanks living room, the android that you had been pining over for months was in the kitchen, making you a coffee so that you could have a boost of energy before going to work.

Connor brought you the cup of coffee, the corner of his lips quirked up into a heartwarming smile. His LED a steady blue hue as he handed it to you before sitting down next to you.

The couch dipped around his figure and his smile widened. He slipped his coin from his pocket and began to idly fiddle with it before beginning to speak.

"I do hope you enjoy it, it was my first time," his words were so gentle and innocent, it was clear there was no further meaning however a light blush coated your cheeks anyway.

You looked away from his penetrative gaze as you took a mouthful of the coffee. He hadn't added sugar. You scrunched your face as you turned back to him.

"It's great, thank you Connor," you choked out, the bitter taste sticking to your tongue. You didn't want to hurt his feelings.

"You don't seem pleased," he tilted his head, his led blinking yellow.

"I'm pleased with the coffee, I could just do with some sugar next time," you responded softly before taking another sip of the coffee.

"I can give you some sugar now if you would like?" He offered.

It was a strange way if wording it, however you were use to his strange ways and it was all somewhat charming. Yet another reason why you had been pining over him for so long.

"I would like that, thank you," you smiled, expecting him to go straight to the kitchen.

The android stood then began to shuffle past you. He stopped when he was in front of you and you looked up at him, meeting his chocolatey brown eyes that you had found yourself lost in so many times before. His led was flashing yellow as he furrowed his eyebrows as if he was debating something.

Slowly, he leant down and placed a delicate kiss on your cheek. It only lasted a moment and it was light as a feather but it was there. It was also something he had never done before, the two of you had always just been friends.

"Connor-" you muttered, staring past him, towards Sumo with wide eyes as your face flushed a dark pink.

"Allow me to get you the rest of your sugar," he whispered in your ear, even though you couldn't see it, you could tell he was smirking.

As he returned to an upright position, he left you with a wink, making a b line to the kitchen.

"Fuck sake Connor, in my home?" Hank grumbled from the hallway, having watched the exchange.

You didn't dare look over your shoulder at the boys, too flustered to function for the moment as you processed what had happened.

"You told me to flirt with them and begin to act upon my feelings, I don't understand?" Connor responded.

Hank chuckled, shaking his head as he looked to Connor. "So you decided to kiss 'em and leave them flustered before work rather then asking about a date?"

"You two know I can hear you, right?" You called out to them, turning towards the men.

"I am aware, I'm glad I didn't take your breath away. I would have to apply mouth to mouth if that were to occur," Connor responded.

Your mouth hung open as you looked to him, flicking your gaze to Hank who shook his head and left. He knew you and Connor would make your own way to the precinct.

"I can't stand another second of you two," the older man had muttered as he left.

Connor brought the pot of sugar over to you as well as a spoon. You began to scoop sugar into your coffee, stopping when you added your preferred amount. He held the sugar pot for a moment, staring at you. His LED blinked yellow for a moment before he spoke.

"Would you like more sugar?" He grinned, his eyes looking you up and down as he put the pot down.

"Connor-" you stuttered as you looked to him, your mouth agape.

"Perhaps you would prefer a date first? What are you doing after work?" He insisted, head tilted slightly.

"I would love that," you smiled at him before finishing your coffee and putting the cup down.

You stood and began to put your coat on, you could feel his eyes on you with every movement.

"It's going to be cold today," Connor said, stepping towards you and taking your hands in his.

He gently slid gloves over you hands before smiling and opening the door. Cold air and snow rushed into the room which urged you to step out, Connor following behind you as the two of you headed to work.

During the work, you both stole glances at each other. Your cheeks dusted pink and his a soft blue. You smiled as snow began to collect in his hair and on his shoulders, wondering what he would plan for the date.

#dbh connor x reader #detroid become human #detroit rk800 #rk800 #connor dbh fluff #hank anderson #gn reader #detroit become human

261 notes · View notes

gianelson · 5 years ago

Note

Yupe yupe!...agree.I was initially scared because seeing all these talented writers made me nervous because my writing sucked beyond the telling of it!..but I realized that I have all this fandom love and I wish to share it with ppl who had the same interest so I took the first step and started posting last year.

For me,what helped was when I first posted it on AO3,it was a part of like a group/community called IWRY marathon(yeay Bangel!!) so I know that my stories will be read by like minded ppl who adored the same fandom/otp. It became less intimidating for me. So perhaps that's a good start?

And personally, I feel validation really isn't the best way to go about when writing fanfics. Spreading the love of your fandom(and creating an alternative universe where your fandom/otp is living the life you envisioned for them)is so much more fulfilling. I have come across writers who stopped writing stories halfway because they didn't receive comments which was sad.

Much loves to all fanfic writers out there. Don't stop writing..You guys are the best!!..

I wanna post my fics but I'm afraid I'll get disappointed with the result and lose my motivation to write, like the other writers I see. Is there a way to deal with this feeling?

Post your stories because you want to share them, not because you want to get comments.

If your purpose is being popular or receiving positive attention, you’ll inevitably end up disappointed. If your purpose is to share something you love with other people who will hopefully love it too, you’re more likely to be okay.

We all wish we had more comments/kudos/etc sometimes. The key to not letting it get to you is to have another reason why you’re doing the thing. I post with my fandom friends in mind and the hopes that they’ll see/like the thing. I also post because any time I finish a thing, I want to share it with anyone who might like it :)

What about the rest of you? How do you keep yourself motivated, aside from comments etc.?

#fanfics are awesome #fanfics fixes angel's curse #fanfics makes bangel happy #fanfics gives me bangel sex #fanfics give me a connor i can stand #fanfic writers rock!

1K notes · View notes

taystrashwriting · 4 years ago

Text

Feelings- Garcia Flynn x Fem!Reader

Credit for GIF goes to the owner

A/N- Hello whoever is reading this. I've written fanfic in the past but nothing on tumblr. Please give me any tips you might have. I'm not the best at spelling and gramer so please give me help on that. I'm also not good with different tenses.

I originally wrote this with my name (yes self indulgent fic) so let me know if there is any names so I can update it! Thank you for baring with me and I hope you enjoy the fic! Any info and tips is highly welcomed!

Genre: Fluff i guess

TV Show: Timeless

Pairing: Garcia Flynn x female reader (She/her pronouns and dress outfit)

Warnings: None :) (if you spot any please let me know!)

I lay in my small bed, looking up at the ceiling. I've been awake for a couple of hours and as far as I know it's the middle of the night. Our last mission is weighing on my mind, but not because of the actual mission. Hell, that was one of our easiest missions. We time traveled, found the sleeper agent before they were activated and was able to stop him. Sure, there was a couple bumps along the road but nothing drastic. It was the feeling between Flynn and I, when we were alone that had me awake. It was the looks that were exchanged and the lingering touches. I can’t get him out of my mind, I can’t seem to think straight. I don’t know whether he felt the same way or if it was the adrenaline of the mission that made me feel this way. I can’t have feelings for Flynn, it’s not right. Wyatt dosn’t like or trust him, Rufus dosn’t really want to be around him, heck everyone except Lucy and I are on edge about him.

Now him and Lucy, that's another story, sure Flynn and I have, whatever we have going on but Flynn and Lucy, is something else. They have their moments like I have with him, but these tend to be more intense. I don’t know whether it's because Lucy gave him that interesting journal or because they have feelings for each other. Deep down, I feel hurt and a little jealous, but I make sure those feelings stayed far down. I subconsciously and involuntarily start thinking about little moments that’s happened between Flynn and I.

It isn’t too long before the alarm goes off, notifying that the mothership has jumped. I get out of bed and put my slippers on. I head out of my room, that I thankfully had all to myself, and go to where the lifeboat is. I'm one of the first people there, excluding Jiya who tends to always be awake thanks to her visions. “I like them, looks really cute.” She says to me, pointing to my pajamas. “Thanks, I’ve had them for a while, just never got around to wearing them.” I explain to her. “Trying to impress someone?” Jiya lifts and wiggles her eyebrows as she asks. I start to blush but try to brush it off with a laugh. “Agent Christopher is on her way.” I hear Connor say from behind me. I turn around to see him walk in. I watch as Lucy, Wyatt, and Jess round the corner, only leaving Rufus and Flynn still to come.

I notice that they all have some much warmer sleepwear on, and Lucy even has a cardigan wrapped around her. Everyone seems to be staring at me, most likely because I’m showing a lot of skin compared to the rest of them. Rufus and Flynn finally walk in, auguring about something. When their eyes fall to me, instantly becoming silent. My cheeks start to heat up as I try to ignore Flynn's eyes examining my body. “I’m going to go put something warmer on, I’m obviously out of place. Start without me, I'll catch up easily.” I say as I wrap my arms around my exposed stomach and start to walk back to my room when I feel an arm on my shoulder, stopping me. I look up and turn around to see Flynn taking of the jumper he was wearing, leaving him in some sweats and a tank top. He hands it to me, and I smile. I quietly put the jumper on, and turn stand next to him, as we get ready to be briefed on where and when Rittenhouse has jumped to. I bunch the ends of the sleeves in my hands, as it is a size and a bit too big, and as I do I feel a sense of safety and comfort in it.

“Alright, now that, that is finished Jiya, tell us the details, I’ll brief Christopher when she shows up.” Connor says and turns to Jiya. “Okay well, they’ve jumped to November 23, 1936, in San Antonio, Texas. Lucy, what’s so important about then?” Jiya explains. Everyone looks confused as Lucy shakes her head. I try to scan my knowledge of any history I know. “I don’t know, there’s nothing important about that date.” Lucy says letting out a sigh. My face lights up, “Robert Johnson!” I exclaim. Connor points to me excited. “Yes! That’s it!” He exclaims. Everyone looks at us confused.

“He’s a Blues player. The best blues player. He allegedly sold his soul to the devil at the crossroad to become a good player and ever since then death has followed him, like a curse.” I explain to the team. “Yes, he paved the way for pop culture today as we know it. He inspired Elvis and so many more, incredible artist. Without him the world would be an incredibly different place.” Connor explaines to the team, as he finishes his phone rings, and he goes away to answer it. “Okay cool, I understand how Mason knows this but y/n, How?” Wyatt asks. Everyone silently nods their heads as if to ask the same question. “His music ends up inspiring rock and punk rock music which I like. It was also an episode of Supernatural.” I explain, Flynn smiles and laughs a little at me.

Connor walks back, “Okay everyone, you have five minutes to get dressed and jump. Agent Christopher is here, just in time to see you guys jump. Now get to it!” He says as we all start to head to our rooms. I quickly get dressed into some plain clothes, we’re going to need to get changed when we get there anyway so, might as well make it easy for myself. I get dressed in 2 minutes and I put Flynn's jumper on my bed and head back out to the lifeboat.

Everyone is already there and starting to get on. Rufus and Jiya has just added another seat the other night, and it works so now 5 of us can travel at once. “Wyatt, you're staying. I need you here.” Agent Christopher says as he starts to walk on. “We JUST installed another seat, and you already said how Connor is going which obviously means Flynn is staying.” Wyatt protests. “I need you for something important here, that’s an order.” Agent Christopher says with her authoritive voice. Wyatt drops his head in defeat and climbs back down the stairs. I climb up the stairs and into the time machine. “Where’s my jumper y/n?” Flynn asks, raising an eyebrow. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I say acting innocently. He lets out a little laugh and shakes his head. “are you all belted up? Well, we’re going so you better be.” Rufus says as he starts to mess around with buttons and switches.

Before I know it, we’re in San Antonio, Texas in 1936. No matter how many times we do this, I never get use to suddenly being in another time and place. Connor gets out first with Rufus following right behind him. I hear Connor start babbling about time travel as Lucy gets out. Flynn gets out before me, and waits for me to unbuckle and walk out of the time machine. I stand on the weird step thing, that goes around the machine. Flynn jumps down onto the grass and grabs my waist, lifting and spinning me around as he helps me get down, onto the grass. As he puts me down, I lose my balance slightly and fall into Flynn’s chest. He holds me until I stand properly. “I’m sorry.” I say giggling a little. “You can always fall on me.” He replies winking and walking towards the rest of the group. I feel my cheeks flush a little at the gesture. I follow him to the group to see Connor throwing up. Flynn starts to walk to Connor and I think he’s going to help him, but he just walks past, mumbling something. I shake my head and follow him. “So, what do we do now?” Connor asks once he finished throwing up. “We find clothes and steal a car.” Rufus explains and we start walking.

“Does everything look alright?” Lucy asks me, doing a 360 to show me her whole outfit. I nod, “It looks perfect Luce. It’s your color. I’m glad you got the hat as well; it makes the outfit.” I reply as I finish buttoning up my waistcoat. “Let’s go, the guys will be waiting for us. I’m pretty sure that Rufus was able to get a car, we just need to get to the hotel.” Lucy says as she grabs her small handbag. I nod and pick up my jacket and tie and follow Lucy outside to see Connor, Rufus and Flynn in a red convertible. I watch Flynn’s eyes as they take in Lucy’s appearance then move to me. I watch him and give him a little twirl. We both laugh at this. Lucy gets into the front of the car, with Connor and Rufus, leaving Flynn and I in the back together.

“Did you pick that outfit yourself?” He asks me as he puts an arm over the seat, behind my shoulders. “Yeah, I did. I liked the professionalism of it, Kinda like a suit but in a dress form. This is defiantly staying in my closet.” I explain to him grinning. “I'm not surprised. I like the matching jacket.” He explains pointing to the jacket on the floor of the car. “Yeah, I really like it too. It’s got a tie to go with the outfit but I-um, I can’t tie it.” I tell him, giving him an awkward laugh. “Where is it?” He asks, moving his arm so they’re both in front of him. I lean down, pick up the tie and hand it to him. “Now, I can only do this on myself so, you’re going to have to sit on my lap.” Flynn says to me.

I start to blush and slowly and carefully stand up. I sit down onto Flynn’s lap quickly as the car gains more speed. I feel his hands lift my collar up and place the fabric of the tie around my neck. He continues to tie the tie around my neck in silence. When it’s tied, he lets me tighten it to my liking. “How’s that?” He asks. I can feel his breath by my ear. “It’s perfect thank you.” I say as I start to get up.

I feel Flynn’s hands on my waist quickly pulling me back down. “I was hoping you would stay a little longer.” He whispers into my ear. I slowly and slightly nod and put my hands over Flynn’s, that were still situated on my waist. I turn my head to watch the world go by when I feel something on my neck. I start to move my head when Flynn whispers into my ear again, “Is just me.” I swallow hard and start blushing. Finally, I know how he feels about me.

I don’t realize that we’ve made it to the hotel until the car has stopped and I notice that Connor, Rufus and Lucy are getting out. “Okay lovebirds, we’re here.” Rufus says to us. I get up and start getting out of the car, “He was putting my tie on and fixing it up for me.” “Yeah, she couldn’t do it, so I did it for her. I can only tie a tie on myself, so y/n had to sit in my lap, for me to do it.” He explains, scratching the back of his neck. “Yeah sure, keep telling yourself that.” Rufus says, as Lucy and Connor walk ahead of us.

#timeless #garcia flynn #garcia flynn x reader #timeless fanfic #fanfic #garcia flynn fluff #x reader

65 notes · View notes

crystalninjaphoenix · 3 years ago

Text

Jairsolas

Fantasy Masks AU: Chapter Six

A JSE Fanfic

*gasp* A POV change?! For the first time in this story?! How exciting! Yeah short description because I’ve had a long day as of queueing this, but basically we follow Marvin as he tries to track down the King. But instead, along the way, he meets someone new. And that’s all I have to say. Hope you enjoy :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The noble family Portmota lived on the edge of the Southern Moors, their castle built on the last bit of solid land before the rivers came in and flooded the south of the kingdom. Officially, their claim covered all of the Moors, but everybody knew that the Moors ran on their own, much like the mountain villages to the west and north. But the meagerness of their claim didn’t stop the family from building themselves a solid, grand castle. It sat on top of a small hill, surrounded by a thick stone wall. The castle’s multiple towers reached the sky, and were numerous to require a large staff to keep the place running for the noble family and any visitors they might have.

With such a large body of servants, it was easy to slip in unnoticed. They always accepted help, and as long as you didn’t appear troublesome, they’d immediately snatch you up and put you to work the moment you asked for a position, no interview needed.

This was something Marvin found out first hand when he decided to infiltrate the castle in preparation for the King’s visit.

Maybe they needed help to clean up for said visit, maybe they were always like this, the result was the same either way. All Marvin had to do was show up on the grounds, dressed in ragged clothes, and he was immediately hired by the head servant. She didn’t even mind when he said he had to keep his cat nearby at all times.

Once he was inside, it only took him a few days to get a scope of things. Normally his sense of direction was terrible, but the servants were always being sent on numerous chores, so the castle’s layout quickly solidified in his mind. The cleaning and cooking was...hard, he had to admit. Unlike Jackie and Schneep, he hadn’t grown up doing chores, and taking care of things was a relatively new skill. He went to bed in the servants’ quarters exhausted. But this was a small price to pay for the opportunity that had presented itself.

He began to notice odd things about the castle. First of all, effort was put into cleaning and clearing every room in every wing, even the ones that had been sealed off so the heat wouldn’t escape into the winter air. Every candlestick was being polished, every tapestry dusted out. Why all the work? Unless...there was something big happening.

There were also a lot more people wandering around the castle. Visitors. Nobility, to be specific. An oddly high amount. Not that the nobility didn’t like to go see each other, especially for parties, but the Portmota claim was currently home to just one person: the Marquess Portmota, the eldest member of the family. Marvin knew all the other Portmotas were either traveling, or had married into other noble families and now lived with them. There were far too many visitors in the castle for one woman to entertain, even for something as important as a Longest Night celebration.

Not to mention the rumors circling through the servants’ ranks. News spread fast through this network, and soon, maids, cooks, and gardeners were muttering to each other about the King himself visiting.

Marvin tried not to get too close to any of these servants. It would just...get in the way. Sure, many of them were friendly to him, offering to share lunches or spend their breaks with him. But...no, it wouldn’t work out. It couldn’t. Besides, he didn’t need them. All he needed was his familiar, Draco.

He’d been in Portmota Castle for a week when the rumors started to buzz. The cleaning suddenly intensified, and the visitors to the keep began strutting about in their finest clothes. One night, to confirm his suspicions, he asked a laundress named Mina what was going on.

“Huh? You mean you haven’t heard? You haven’t seen?” Mina glanced about the laundry room where she was busy working. Seeing nobody else nearby, she leaned close to Marvin and whispered, “They’ve seen the King! Here!”

Marvin’s eyes widened in exaggerated surprise. “Really? Why would he be here?”

“Why would he be here? For the Longest Night celebration!” Mina chuckled. “Elders, Westley, you can be oblivious,” she said, calling him by the fake name he was going by.

“Oh. That makes sense.” Marvin glanced down at the floor. Draco was batting at a loose sleeve dangling from a laundry bin, so he quickly bent over and scooped him up before the cat could knock the whole thing over. “Who saw him? How’d they know it was the King?”

“A couple people. Teresa, Connor, Kelley. They saw a man fitting his description walking around, with the brown hair and slender build, and Teresa pointed out he was walking very purposefully. Dressed finer than all other lords who’ve come to visit.” Mina dumped some of the laundry into a washbasin as she talked. “Kelley got really close to him, too, when they were serving food in the hall. They said he had the royal green eyes.”

“Royal green. Wow.” Marvin pretended to be in awe, and made sure not to show off any of the burning anger smoldering inside him. “If he’s the King, where’s he staying? I don’t think any room here would be noble enough for him.”

Mina shrugged. “Nobody’s said yet. There are a whole bunch of new rooms made up for the visitors, hard to tell. It’s not like he’ll be hanging the royal crest on the door.” She glanced about the room again, then nudged Marvin’s shoulder with some urgency. “Oh no, Ursula is coming. Better get out of sight before she demands you stop standing around and start working.”

“Right.”

That conversation was abruptly cut short, but Marvin got a lot of information from it. Namely, that the King really was here. The detail about the royal green eyes sealed it. Yes, the royal family were once known for their distinctive shade of green eyes, but none of them had actually been born with the color in recent generations. Until the current king. Something like that wouldn’t be forgotten easily. Now the question was how to get close to him.

He spent two days trying to figure out which room the King was staying in, but in the end, the answer fell right into his lap.

It was early morning, and he was in the kitchen, kneading bread for the day. It was a task he often volunteered for; something about the kneading motion was very calming to him. Even if Draco wandered around and tried to get under the feet of every grumbling chef and baker.

With no warning, the door suddenly flew open, and a voice called, “Any of you lot free for a quick delivery?!”

Everyone looked over in unison. It was Ursula, the head servant. “Depending what the delivery is!” answered Everett, the head cook.

“We need a breakfast tray prepared quick!” Ursula demanded. “It’s urgent!”

The chefs and bakers muttered amongst themselves. “How urgent is it?” Everett asked.

Ursula huffed. “Very. One of the lady’s important guests ordered it. And we don’t wanna upset him.”

Marvin’s head shot up. Could it be...?

“Alright, don’t get your skirt twisted, Helendaugh,” Everett muttered, rolling his eyes. “We’ll make one up. But you’ll need someone else to bring it up. We’re all busy here, if you couldn’t tell.”

“No one else can bring it up! They’re all busy too! Sure, I could scout around for someone, but that’ll take too long! Do I need to repeat that he ordered it urgently? Or that we can’t upset him?”

Marvin slowly raised his hand. “Um...sir? If you give me a minute, I’ll be finished. I can do it.”

Everett gave his kneading station a once-over, then nodded, satisfied. “Alright, that’ll be just enough time to make up the tray. See, Ursula? Westley can do it, no problem.”

Judging by the tightness of her face and the way she was wringing her hands, Ursula still thought there was a problem. But she stepped back. “Okay. Westley, you’ll want to head up the central tower, all the way to the top room. Knock on the door, but don’t wait for a reply. Open it and slide the tray right in, then close it and leave.”

“I understand, ma’am.”

“Make sure you do. This is very important, for a very important guest.” Ursula took a few more steps back, right out the door. Then she shut it behind her.

Some time later, Marvin was practically running through the halls of Portmota Castle, Draco at his heels. The central tower was quite far away from the kitchens. Though...a tower room was odd. Most nobility preferred to stay in the keep itself, since towers got drafty, and walking up and down the stairs was rarely worth the view. Maybe the King was different? Eh. It didn’t really matter. The King wouldn’t be around long enough to enjoy that tower room.

Marvin stopped at the base of the central tower, breathing heavily. He quickly glanced around, but luckily, the area was clear of any servants or noble visitors. Good. He needed to be quick. He slid over to the wall and knelt down, putting the tray of food on the floor. There was a floor-length tapestry nearby, and he pulled it over his shoulders, partially hiding him from view.

Then he reached under his shirt and pulled out a pendant on a chain. A beautiful pendant, with its smooth, palm-sized emerald and silver frame looking too expensive for the rusted chain it hung from. Even though wearing it might give him away, he couldn’t bear to part from his magical focus. A wizard without a focus was like a painter without their paint. They couldn’t do anything without it.

Quickly, Marvin pressed two fingers to the surface of the emerald, which immediately started glowing. When he pulled his hand away, the glowing light stuck to his fingertips. He drew a rectangle on the ground with his fingers, leaving light behind like chalk on a board. Once the rectangle was fully formed, the middle of it faded away. Now, Marvin was looking at the inside of a small box. And inside the box were a few things. A small dagger, a bottle of brown glass, a coil of thread, a white handkerchief, and a candle. Marvin plucked the bottle out from the box. He reached for the breakfast tray—swatting Draco away in the process with a “No, not for you”—and pulled it closer. Then he unstopped the bottle, poured a few drops of the liquid inside onto all the food items, and stopped it again, putting it back inside the small box. Once the bottle was back in place, the glowing rectangle disappeared. The floor reappeared as solid stone once more, with no sign of the magical box that had just been there.

“Good,” Marvin said, grinning to himself. He pulled away the tapestry, picked up the food tray, and stood up. “Now for the most difficult part...the stairs.”

That statement was a joke—a joke for no one, really, since Draco was the only one around and he didn’t really understand human humor—but Marvin was definitely winded by the time he reached the room at the tower top. No matter how often he walked up stairs, no matter how frequently he’d done so in the past week, he still hated them. Maybe that said more about how fit he was than the design of the stairs themselves. Which made no sense, he’d spent the past few years running around the kingdom, surely he’d be more fit by now?

He was getting distracted. The room door was in front of him. Wooden. A fine door, but no more fine than literally any other door in the castle. Yet...the King was inside.

Following the instructions, Marvin knocked on the door, but didn’t wait for a reply before easing it open and setting the tray down on the floor inside. Draco almost poked his head through the gap, but Marvin pushed him back, then closed the door.

He waited for a few minutes. Expecting to hear movement inside. But there was nothing. Well...the room must have thick walls, then. With his task accomplished, Marvin turned back and headed back down the stairs, which proved much friendlier on the way down.

That poison worked quickly. By that night, they’d hear news of the King’s assassination.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

But that was not the case.

Marvin waited with anticipation, but nothing happened. There was no outcry of poison, no panic as the King’s lackeys were left unsure what to do. Things proceeded as normal. Leaving him confused. He was sure he got the dose right, and he’d made sure to poison all of the food on the tray. Hadn’t he?

The next morning, the exact same thing happened. Ursula barged into the kitchen, demanding a breakfast tray for an important guest. Everett said everyone was busy, and Ursula repeated the urgency. So, Marvin volunteered to deliver it again. Once he was alone, he took the poison from the hidden box and again dosed the food, making sure to add a bit more this time before putting the poison back and delivering the food to the top of the tower. He even had to push Draco back from the door again.

But still, nothing happened.

And when the same thing happened the next morning, Marvin was about ready to shout out “Am I going mad?!” But he didn’t, and instead played it cool. This time, Everett asked him to take the tray up ahead of time, expecting him to be able to. And of course, Marvin agreed, and secretly added even more of the poison. And of course, Draco once again tried to squeeze into the room at the top of the tower. Honestly, Marvin felt he should have more control of his familiar, but given how cats were impossible to order around under normal circumstances, he took Draco even listening to him as a plus.

When nothing happened the fourth day, Marvin began to suspect something unusual was going on. Perhaps someone tampered with the poison? No, that should be impossible. That box was buried in the ground, far away from Portmota Castle. He could only access it because of his magic. But...maybe? If he tried again today and the King still did not die, he’d try a different method.

So once more, he took the breakfast tray when offered, headed to a private area to get the poison out of the box, added yet more of it to the food, and trekked up the stairs to the room at the top of the central tower. He knocked on the door, then without waiting for a response, opened it to slide the tray inside.

And the instant the opening was big enough, Draco leaped through the gap and into the room beyond.

“Draco!” Marvin cried out, dropping the breakfast tray. Without thinking about what to do next, he threw the door open and rushed inside to scoop up his cat.

But of course, there was someone in there. Someone who’d been startled by the sudden appearance of an off-white cat, but was even more surprised to see someone run into the room after it.

Marvin skidded to a halt, looked around, and before he could even think about it, blurted out, “You’re not the King.”

The person inside slowly shook their head.

“Oh.” Marvin took a step back. Now that he wasn’t worried about his familiar jumping into the hands of the King, he gave the stranger inside a once-over.

The person—Marvin now recognized him as a man—looked a bit like the King, at a first glance. He had brown hair, as most people in the kingdom did, and was fairly thin. But he was shorter than the King was said to be, had a distinct, dark mustache, and most importantly, blue eyes. Not green. His clothes were fine, indicating nobility, but the style was a bit old fashioned. Like the black bow he wore around his neck, something that had gone out of style at least ten years ago.

Draco was sitting on a stool next to the man, looking very self-satisfied. Evidently, the strange man had started petting him right before Marvin barged in.

“Well...sorry, then,” Marvin said awkwardly.

The man smiled and shrugged. He gestured to Draco.

“Huh? Yes, sorry about him. And about barging in, I wasn’t thinking.” Marvin glanced around the room. “So...is the King going to be back soon?”

The man tilted his head, puzzled. And shook his head.

“Why do you look so confused?” Marvin took a minute to think. Then a possibility occurred to him. “Wait...is the King...not staying in these rooms?”

And the man shook his head again.

“Damn it,” Marvin whispered, barely audible.

Honestly, looking around the room, he didn’t think this place was fit for a king, anyway. Certainly, it was noble. There were plush sofas and chairs sitting about, and a desk with a mirror and stool in the corner. The windows had thick blue curtains that one could pull over to cover the glass. And he could see two more doors, both slightly ajar and showing a bedroom and a bathroom. But...it was rather small, in all honesty. The furniture was pushed together, and the blue wallpaper looked a bit old. Not to mention it was cold, as well, with no fireplace. Marvin wished he’d thought to bring a cloak, but the one he owned was too fine, and he had to leave it behind while masquerading as a servant.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed,” Marvin said politely. “They said someone very important was ordering the breakfast trays so—wait, have you been eating that food?”

The man looked embarrassed, and shook his head again.

“No? Well it couldn’t just disappear.”

Now even more embarrassed, the man pointed towards the bathroom.

“You’ve been...dumping it in the lavatory?” Marvin realized, shocked. “Every day? Well no wonder you look so thin, then, if you’ve been skipping breakfast the whole time.” He then remembered the tray of poisoned food he’d brought, and dropped in the hallway. “Oh. But ah, might have actually been a good idea this time. I mean, the—if I’m being honest, it was all undercooked, anyway,” he lied. “And the one for today is all splattered now. Sorry.”

The stranger smiled good-naturedly. He nodded.

“Um...I’ll just leave now.” Marvin took a few steps backwards towards the door.

Hurriedly, the man shook his head, gesturing for him to stay. Meanwhile, Draco pressed his head against the man’s arm, demanding pets.

“Oh. Right. Draco, come on.”

Ears drooping, disappointed, Draco hopped off the stool and walked out the door. “Sorry about all this,” Marvin muttered, backing fully out of the room and pushing the door closed.

As it shut, he could have sworn the man inside had a very strange expression on his face. Something like disappointment and desperation mixed in one.

How...odd. Marvin hesitated, wondering if he should go back inside. But...maybe he’d misread the man’s face. That was far more likely than...whatever he just saw. Yes. He should turn his mind to more practical matters. Like where the King was actually staying, if not here. And getting someone to come up and clean the tray he’d dropped.

But as he retreated back down the stairs, he felt somehow regretful.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next day, the order for a breakfast tray came in, as usual. Marvin wasn’t sure about delivering it, but by this point, he’d volunteered enough that Everett and Ursula expected him to. After all, it was much easier to have one person do something than to constantly find someone new every day. So Marvin quietly took the tray and headed to the central tower once more. This time, he did not stop to poison the food along the way. Now that he knew the King wasn’t there, it wasn’t much use.

When he knocked on the door, it swung open before he could pull it open himself. The strange man from the day before was standing there, smiling and practically bouncing with excitement. He immediately grabbed Marvin and dragged him into the room.

“Whoa! Watch out, you’ll spill the milk!” Marvin quickly set the breakfast tray down on the nearby desk, making sure nothing had fallen off. He didn’t want to make another mess.

The strange man didn’t respond to that comment. He was kneeling on the floor, petting Draco. Much to the cat’s delight, of course. There was a lot of purring.

“Why’d you do that?” Marvin asked. “Pull me in, I mean. If you want to know if the breakfast’s good to eat this time, it is. I...um, checked. Did you just want to pet my cat?”

The man made a so-so gesture.

Marvin suddenly felt frustrated. “Why don’t you just tell me what you want?!” he snapped.

At that, the man stopped. He looked over at Marvin, then stood up. He was wearing another neck bow today, blue this time, and he silently pulled it down so that his neck was more visible. There, right in the middle of his throat, were two scars, arranged in a + shape. Clearly the result of some sort of surgery.

“Oh.” Marvin’s stomach immediately sank. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t think—”

The man waved away his stammered apology with a small smile. It was clearly a sensitive subject, but since it was an accident, all was forgiven.

“Still, I...I’m very sorry. Ah...do you have something to write with, maybe?” Marvin suggested tentatively.

The man shook his head. He did that a lot, didn’t he?

“...nothing at all? What about in this desk?” Marvin wandered over to said desk, opening the drawers. But the man was right. There weren’t any quills or chalk to be seen. There wasn’t even any stationary, and Marvin knew that nobles were fond of keeping their own personalized paper nearby in case writing was needed. Instead, the desk’s drawers were mostly empty, only containing a few game boards and card decks.

As Marvin looked through the drawers, the man walked over to stand next to him, watching. When Marvin opened the drawer with the cards inside, he reached forward and quickly snatched up one of the decks. He turned to Marvin, grinning, and pointed at him, then at the cards.

“You...want to play cards?” Marvin asked, trying not to sound excited.

The man nodded.

“Well...I’m supposed to have chores, but why not?” Marvin grinned as well. “I have to warn you, I’m very good at Luck of the Deal.”

That only made the man smile wider. He guided Marvin over to the sofas and gestured for him to sit.

A couple hours passed before Marvin remembered he had more to do. Not just chores, but he also had to locate the King before the Longest Night celebration, after which he’d leave and return to Suilthair, the capital, and be untouchable. So Marvin hurriedly excused himself, but found himself leaving with a certain spring in his step. It had been a while since he’d sat down and played a few card games with someone. He...really missed it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Over the next few days, he and the man in the tower developed a routine. Marvin would take a breakfast tray up to the room, and the man would drag him inside for a few games. Cards, mostly, though they pulled out some of the board games, too. The breakfast tray would be mostly ignored, though Marvin tried to insist that the man actually eat it. The stranger was on the thin side, after all, he probably needed a meal. A bit odd to see a skinny noble, actually. They could definitely afford enough to eat. But Marvin wasn’t going to ask, in case it was sensitive, like the voice issue.

There were, however, other questions that he wasn’t afraid to ask. The first one came up on the second day of this routine. They’d finished their first game of cards—Enchanter’s Gambit, a shorter one—and Marvin had asked, slowly, “Can you tell me your name? I understand you can’t speak it, but there has to be something I can call you.”

The man paused in shuffling the cards, thinking. Then he set down the deck, stood up, and walked over into the bedroom. A few moments later, he returned, holding something. He handed it to Marvin.

“A handkerchief?” Marvin asked, turning it over in his hands.

The man pointed to one of the cloth’s corners. Marvin examined it, and saw a small design embroidered in gray thread. A rabbit, curled up and sleeping, surrounded by a circle of thorny plants. It was the sign of a noble family. But not just any family. One Marvin instantly recognized.

“That’s the Jairsolas crest,” he gasped. “But—that’s—a-are you a friend of theirs, or...?” He trailed off, not needing to finish his question. The man’s grim expression confirmed everything. “That’s...impossible,” Marvin whispered. “They’re all dead.”

More specifically, they’d been massacred. By the King and his forces.

The death of the Jairsolas family had been one of the earliest signs of how dangerous the King was. The Count and Countess Jairsolas had ruled over the small family peacefully, loved by the people of their land. When the King began demanding more warriors, when he began taking away royal funds from medicine and farming, they were one of the nobles who protested. Eventually, they refused to enact his royal decrees in their northern territory, saying they would not compromise the welfare of their people. They accused the King of swiftly becoming a tyrant. The King immediately proved them right by forcibly invading their land and killing the entire family.

And yet, even after this clearly unwarranted act, there were still nobles out there who stood by the King. There were still warriors who pledged loyalty to him and believed in his cause. There were even common people who repeated that the King was just and good, though that was usually because they were simply unaware of what was going on. The nobles and warriors, however, had no excuse. They continued to fawn over the King and happily harm innocents. It made Marvin sick just thinking about them.

“I’m...so sorry,” Marvin said quietly.

The man nodded slowly, sadness flashing in his eyes. He must’ve been a more distant relative, to survive the King’s attack. Marvin, unsure what to do, placed a hand on his arm, hoping the gesture would convey the sympathy he felt. The man patted it, and smiled a bit, indicating it was alright.

“Jairsolas is a bit cumbersome,” Marvin said slowly. “Can I call you...Jair? For short?”

The man nodded, eagerly accepting the nickname. He pointed at Marvin, raising an eyebrow.

“Me? I’m M—I’m Westley.” Marvin remembered his pseudonym just in time, and quickly changed the subject. “Want to play another round?”

For someone who couldn’t speak, Jair was very expressive, gesturing widely and exaggerating his facial movements. Marvin assumed that was necessary, to compensate for not being able to say anything. Though it was odd that there were no writing utensils or parchment in his room. That seemed like it would be helpful, and easy to acquire, too. But Marvin didn’t want to push the issue. Maybe it was just a preference. Or maybe Jair assumed Marvin, appearing to be a servant, couldn’t read much.

Despite the issues of communication, Marvin proceeded with his questions. About eight days after the first breakfast tray delivery, he got tired of Jair continually ignoring the breakfast. That was perfectly good food going to waste. “Why do you even order the trays if you don’t want to eat them?”

Jair looked up, a bit surprised to be asked this while the two of them were in the middle of a game of Fidchell. He indicated himself, then shook his head.

“You...you mean you’re not the one ordering them?” Marvin asked, confused.

Jair nodded, confirming this, and looked back down at the board, moving a piece.

“Wh—how’d you do that?!” Marvin spluttered, momentarily distracted. “I was going to move one of the warriors there—you just cut off my path!” He scanned the board. “How did you surround my king again?!”

Jair laughed silently, a breathy sound, clapping his hands in delight at winning another game.

Marvin scowled. Draco promptly jumped onto the sofa and knocked over the board, scattering the pieces. “Yea, take down that game. I’m shit at it, apparently.” He sighed, and grabbed the cat, moving him to the side. “Who’s ordering the breakfast trays, then? Can you tell them to stop? It’s enough work as it is.”

Shaking his head, Jair pointed at Marvin.

“I could find some other way to get up here.” Marvin paused, noticing Jair’s slightly uncomfortable look on his face as he went about collecting the knocked-over game pieces. “Can you...not tell them to stop?” He thought about it for a moment. “It must be someone higher ranking than you, then. That would make sense, and it would explain why they always said someone important ordered the trays. Heh. Is it the King?”

Marvin asked the question jokingly, but for a moment, Jair’s shoulders stiffened. Then he brushed off the question, laughing without sound again.

That...couldn’t be right, could it? Why would the King go out of his way to order breakfast for some random noble? And one related to the Jairsolas family, which he destroyed? It didn’t make sense. There must be some sort of lie or trickery involved. Maybe it wasn’t actually the King. Or the King didn’t know Jair’s true identity. Or Jair didn’t know what happened to the rest of the family. Something like that.

Either way, Jair was quickly putting away the Fidchell pieces and board, clearly wanting to move on. So Marvin dropped the subject for the day.

But he still needed information. The King was somewhere in the castle. Other servants had caught glimpses of him, but Marvin still hadn’t figured out where he was staying, or run into him at all. Longest Night was approaching. He was running out of time. So, he decided to ask Jair a few more questions.

“Have you seen the King around?” he asked one day over a game of Saelan checkers. “Apparently he’s in the castle for the celebration, but I haven’t seen the tail of him. Others have, though. What bad luck, huh?”

Just like the last time he brought the King up, Jair stiffened, and immediately denied anything with a shake of his head. He pointed to the board.

“Right.” Marvin moved one of the small stone balls that served as pieces, getting closer to the end goal at the other side of the board. He wasn’t too good at board games, preferring cards, but he was better at this than he was at Fidchell. “I suppose I shouldn’t assume you’d know, anyway. I was just curious. I’ve never seen him. Does he really have green eyes?”

Jair nodded, distracted by planning out his next move.

“It’s strange that none of us know what room he’s staying in. That’s why I assumed he was staying here, ha.” Marvin watched Jair’s face as he continued to talk. “Is he even staying on the castle grounds? I know it’s traditional and all, but I don’t know if anyone would stop him.”

Jair shrugged. This time, his response didn’t seem like avoiding the question, but genuinely not knowing.

“Do you...I’ve never seen you out in the castle,” Marvin realized. “Do you stay in these rooms the whole time?”

Squirming, Jair didn’t answer, instead focusing on jumping one of his pieces over two of Marvin’s, capturing the last one.

“That’s not good for you. Staying in all the time, I mean. Especially when you don’t have a fireplace here. And it looks like an old room, you’re probably breathing in dust all the time. You don’t have to go out and make conversation with others, or even go outside, but just walk around. Do you even go to the main hall for dinner?”

Jair leaned back and looked away, folding his arms.

“Oh. Sorry, I...didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” Marvin said. “I was just...worried, I suppose. You don’t eat breakfast, you don’t go out, you don’t have a fireplace...it’s just...worrying. I’m...worried about...your health.”

Despite the clumsiness of Marvin’s statements, Jair looked touched. He patted Marvin’s hand and gave him a reassuring smile.

“If you’re sure you’re alright,” Marvin said reluctantly. “Try to take care of yourself, though.”

Jair placed his hand over his heart, suddenly emotional. He nodded, smiling.

Had...no one ever said anything like that to him before? Had no one looked after him? Marvin felt something stirring deep inside his chest. A familiar ache. He’d...he’d never someone he could...well...relate to.

Marvin was supposed to ask more about the King, but he found he couldn’t go through with it today. He would try again tomorrow.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next day, Marvin arrived at the tower room a bit later than usual. It took them a bit longer to cook it today, since there was more food than the previous times. He hoped that meant Jair was planning to actually eat it, and not just feed pieces of sausage to Draco the whole time.

He knocked on the door, waited for a few moments for Jair to open, but when he didn’t appear, Marvin pulled open the door himself and walked inside. Huh. Jair wasn’t actually in the room. The bedroom and bathroom doors were closed, so maybe he was doing something in there. “Hello? I’m here,” Marvin called as he set the tray down on the desk. Something brushed against his legs, and he looked down to see Draco curling around his legs. “Hmm? What’s wrong?” Draco didn’t usually stick close to legs, not after too many occasions of people suddenly moving and tripping over him. And his tail was standing straight up, the fur all puffed out.

At that moment, the bedroom door opened, and Jair walked out. He waved at Marvin the moment he saw him.

“Tthere you are. I was wondering why you didn’t open the door.” Marvin glanced back down at Draco, still on edge, then back up. “Is everything alright?”

Jair nodded, waving away the question. He then walked straight over to the desk and started rummaging around the drawers, pausing for a moment to gesture at Marvin.

“Oh, I don’t want to do anything specific today. Maybe more cards?”

Nodding again, Jair pulled out one of the decks. While he walked over to the sofa and began shuffling, Marvin glanced around the room once more. Nothing looked out of place...what had Draco so spooked? He walked over to the window and pulled back the curtains, looking out the glass at the scenery. Clear skies ahead. On the ground below, there were...a lot of people in the surrounding open-air keep. More than he saw on the way over to the tower. That wasn’t too unusual, though. So Marvin closed the curtains again. “What were you doing?” he asked Jair.

Jair looked up at him, confused.

“I mean, you’re usually waiting for me. What was different this time?”

There was a slight pause. Then Jair shrugged. He pulled on the ends of his neck bow, tightening it, and followed it up with a so-so gesture.

“I don’t understand, what do you mean? Something about getting dressed?” Marvin asked. This whole thing felt...odd. Why did it feel odd? Was it just because Draco was still clinging to his legs?

Actually, Draco wasn’t just staying close to his legs. He was also staring at something, ears flat, a warning growl low in his throat. Marvin followed his line of sight...to the door they’d just come through. And...now that he wasn’t speaking, he could hear something underneath the sounds of shuffling cards. Faint, but growing louder.

Footsteps coming up the stairs.

Now why would someone be coming up the stairs? The only thing in the central tower were guest rooms. But most rooms were farther below, and the steps were definitely close enough to be heard. Meaning...someone was coming to this room. Why? Jair wasn’t exactly sociable. It could’ve been Ursula coming to get Marvin for chores, but...Marvin grabbed his amulet through his shirt, and his eyes lit up the smallest amount. No, he could sense more than one living person approaching. Quite a lot more, actually.

“Can I use your lavatory?” Marvin asked. He didn’t wait for Jair to nod before heading over and disappearing inside, closing the door behind him.

Just in time for the room’s entrance door to open, and for all those living people to fill the room. Accompanying the footsteps he’d heard before was the faint sound of metallic clanking, like...like chainmail. Or weapons.

Panic flooded Marvin’s mind. They’d discovered him, hadn’t they?! He had to get out of here! There was a small window in the bathroom, maybe just barely big enough to squeeze through. It was quite a drop to the keep below, but better than nothing. Marvin tried to break the glass with his fist, but only managed to crack it, so he pulled his amulet out and began to focus.

“Open up! We know you’re in there, traitor!” Bang bang bang bang bang!

“Damn!” Marvin cursed. They were knocking on the bathroom door. He didn’t have time to break the window, he needed to go through them! He whirled around—

The bathroom door slammed open, revealing three warriors wearing tunics with the royal crest. Marvin grabbed his now-glowing amulet and made a throwing motion. Light flung from his hands, hardening to stone as it hurled through the air, and three good-sized rocks hit each warrior in the chest, knocking them down. Marvin immediately bolted.

The small room was packed with other warriors, as well. Many were blocking his way to the door, armed with broad-bladed swords. Marvin threw more light to either side of him, and the warriors yelled as they tried to get out of the way of the suddenly-appearing rocks. For the ones in front, he pulled more glow from the amulet, forming it into a long, thin whip made entirely of green flame. He swung it around and many of the warriors scattered. Two stood their ground, acting quickly to pull circular shields from their backs and block the magic fire. But then Marvin was in front of them, his hands ablaze with more flame.

And then pain wrapped around his torso.

He looked down just long enough to register the black thorny vines wrapped across his chest before suddenly being yanked backwards. Pulled off his feet, he landed on his back and was dragged across the floor for some distance before suddenly stopping. He looked up and saw a face looking down at him. Unnaturally blue eyes. Pale blonde hair, stylishly curled around her face. And a few smattering of freckles, almost disappearing beneath a light layer of cosmetics. She looked as surprised to see him as he felt seeing her. “Marvin,” she said.

“Thalia,” Marvin scowled.

“I didn’t think it would be you. They said the servant’s name was Westley. Unless—you lied, didn’t you? Like you always do.”

“You’ve always been the liar.”

“No I haven’t. I’m always honest with everyone.”

“Nope. I know you haven’t told anyone about those secret visits to the mountains, have you?” Marvin laughed at Thalia’s surprised expression. “That was hard to find out, but I immediately recognized your handiwork. Burning the stone? Really? Talk about excessive.”

“Shut up,” Thalia snapped. She reached up and touched a silver-and-ruby broach pinned on her tunic. Her focus. Her eyes lit up. “I’m the one in charge now.”

“No you’re not.” Marvin grabbed his own focus, flicking the light from it up into her face. Thalia yelped as the glow turned into liquid and went into her eyes, and she lost concentration on the vine spell. Marvin shot up and looked around the room again. Now counting, there were ten warriors. One of them was holding his cat-shaped mask. Damn it! They went through his belongings and found it. He could have left it behind, but he brought it in case something happened and he needed it. Clearly that hadn’t been worth the risk.

All of the warriors were strategically blocking his ways out. The window, the door out, the doors to the bathroom and Jair’s bedroom—

Wait, Jair?! Where was he?!

Marvin didn’t have to look far. Jair was sitting in the exact spot he’d last seen him. On the sofa, having not moved a finger since the warriors and Thalia entered. His eyes were fixed downward, his hands clutching the deck of cards tightly in his lap. Marvin blinked. “Jair, what are you—”

Fog suddenly filled the room, unnaturally quickly, blinding him in seconds. Marvin whirled around, lighting up his amulet to try and see through the mist.

Dark figures lunged out of the fog and grabbed at him. Shouting, Marvin threw the light in a circle, turning it to green flame again. Several people cried out, and the fog lifted as the fire burned through it. Marvin saw the surrounding figures of the warriors, and then someone lunged at him from behind, wrapping legs around his and pulling his hair.

He yelped. “Thalia! Get off me!”

“No, give me that focus!” Thalia demanded, clawing at the chain around his neck.

“Die in freezing!” Marvin tried to grab his amulet, but that was a bit difficult while the chain was strangling him. He had to divert effort to giving himself room to breathe. “Who jumps on someone’s back?! You’re thirty years old!”

“You’re the one acting like a child! You stole that, I recognize it!”

“It was mine, too!”

After a few moments, the combination of struggling and the weight on his back caused Marvin to fall over, bringing Thalia down with him. The moment he was down, five of the ten warriors lunged forward, pinning him. He struggled, but there were just too many. Then Thalia pulled once more on the chain holding his amulet, and it broke. She backed away, holding the amulet upward in triumph.

Out of nowhere, there was a yowling sound. Thalia screamed as a streak of off-white fur ran at her and began clawing at her leg, tearing through her trousers while spitting and hissing. Instinctively, she kicked, and the ball of fur went flying across the room.

“Draco!” Marvin cried, managing to push free of the warriors for long enough to see his cat stand up again. “No! Get out of here!”

Draco wailed, then hissed, ready to attack despite being outnumbered by eleven tall humans.

“No! Out! Run!” Marvin’s magic was quickly fading without his amulet within reach, but he had to get Draco to safety. He looked Draco in the eyes from across the room. His flickered blue for a moment, and Draco’s eyes glowed for a second in the matching shade. Marvin sent the image of a safe place to go through the connection he had with his familiar, and followed it up with instructions on how to get there.

Reluctantly, Draco turned...then bolted, weaving in between the legs of the warriors in a sudden burst of speed. Once he reached the door, an unnatural wave of strength overcame him, and he pushed it open and disappeared. The warriors cried out, but Thalia called, “Let it go! It can’t do much!” She looked down at Marvin. “Really? A cat? Why not bond with something more useful, like a dog?”

“Fuck you!” Marvin shouted, and lunged at her.

Then a warrior brought the hilt of their sword down on the back of his head, and everything went black.

#jacksepticeye #jacksepticeye fanfiction #jacksepticegos #septic egos #jacksepticeye au #septic egos au #marvin the magnificent #jameson jackson #brigid writes fanfiction #fantasymasksau

23 notes · View notes