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cagestark · 5 years ago

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A Hole in the Head//5

About this: daddy kink.

A week later, Tony has business to attend to in Malibu.

Peter distracts him while he packs, suitcases open and half-full on the bed. He plasters himself to the back of the man, rising up on his toes so that he can press his groin against the curve of Tony’s ass and grind suggestively. “Take me with you, sir,” Peter begs into his ear, wrapping his arms around Tony’s toned midriff. “We can spend all our time in the hotel, fucking.”

Tony laughs, reaching for one of Peter’s hands to draw it down and press it against his own cock, still mostly soft. “I’ll be in meetings, kid.”

He places a hot kiss against Tony’s neck, lips brushing skin when he says, “I’ll bribe you to skip them.”

“And what about Bucky?” Tony asks. The man in question is outside their open bedroom door, leaning against the wall, ever vigilant. Peter glances over in time to see his head cock, turning just so to better listen to the conversation taking place.

Since the day of the mall, a sort of calm-before-the-storm had befallen them. If he’d awoken the next morning expecting Bucky to treat him any differently, he was mistaken. Bucky was, for the most part, unchanged (though maybe sometimes his sharp retorts seemed less like attacks and more like banter, which was a pleasant evolution). If Peter’s ass hadn’t smarted something fierce for the next three days, he might have believed the entire thing was nothing but a dream.

“He can watch,” Peter suggests brightly. “He’s good at that.”

There’s no way to tell with the man’s back turned, but Peter can feel when Bucky rolls his eyes. He’s got a sixth sense for when he’s getting under someone’s skin.

Tony turns where he’s trapped in Peter’s arms. His eyes are dancing when he tucks Peter under his chin, cutting short the sexy dialogue and turning it tender. Typical Tony move, though it doesn’t happen often with his underlings around. Something about Bucky must be slipping past the man’s defences, and Peter can’t find it in him to complain about a more comfortable, natural Tony.

“What’s this all about, Pete?” he asks. “You hate Malibu.”

“I don’t have the legs to wear shorts,” Peter whines. He winds his fingers in Tony’s lapels, intending to hold him in New York physically if that’s what it takes. “I’m just going to miss you, is all. When you aren’t here, I’m bored.”

Tony’s eyes flicker towards the doorway where Bucky stands. Smiling, he says, “I’m sure you’ll find something to keep you occupied.”

“I’m going to jerk off for three days straight,” Peter says, throwing himself onto the bed. A pristinely folded pile of Ralph Lauren dress shirts topples over.

“If you don’t stop, I’ll think that all you want me for is my cock,” says Tony.

“Have you seen your cock, sir?”

“That’s it, you little brat—” Tony lunges. Peter upends one entire suitcase diving off of the bed to avoid his touch. He fights to get his feet under him, adrenalin singing in his veins, and feels the brush of Tony’s fingers reaching for the neck of his shirt before Peter slips out of reach. Bucky has turned at the commotion and watches with a maternal disapproval, leaning with one hip propped against the wall and his arms crossed.

Then he steps back further into the hall, reaches out with one foot and nudges the door shut.

“Traitor!” Peter shouts, mouth split wide in a grin.

The moment gives Tony the chance to slip an arm around his waist and hoist him up and back towards the bed. His mouth brushes Peter’s neck when he says, “He works for me, kid. Don’t look so surprised that he’s on my side.”

He deposits Peter flat on the bed, the bounce knocking several to-be-packed items to the floor. Tony stands over him, and fuck if he doesn’t seem so much taller than his five-foot-nine stature. Sometimes in their more tender moments together, Peter forgets just what the other man is capable of. But god, there is much pleasure in being reminded. Leaning over him, Tony pushes the last half-packed suitcase until it falls off the bed with a clatter that has Peter shaking. Removing his jacket, he tosses it back towards where there used to be an armchair—only now there isn’t. In his dress slacks is a bulge that has Peter’s pelvic muscles flexing in anticipation.

He reaches for his belt and tugs it free. Peter thinks he might be in for a spanking, until that belt hits the floor and Tony continues undressing, pulling that thick cock free. He assesses Peter with a frank stare. “Well, kid? You wanted it, didn’t you? It isn’t going to suck itself.”

Peter slips off of the bed and onto his knees to let Tony seat himself on the mattress. He doesn’t need to be told how Tony likes it; that’s come from years of practice. Staring up at him through his lashes, Peter opens his mouth wide and lets the blunt head of Tony’s cock rest on his tongue, the familiar softness and hardness and warmth and smell and taste all filling up his head until it’s light like a helium balloon. When the man’s mouth twitches, fighting a smile, Peter lets his mouth close around it, his eyes falling closed in picturesque ecstasy as he suckles at it.

“What’s gotten into you lately, kid?” Tony wonders, threading his fingers through Peter’s hair. “You’re hornier than usual, and that’s saying something.”

Peter pulls off to say, “Can’t help it. You’re so fucking hot. I’m thinking of it all the time.”

Tony smiles, a mixture of fondness and pity that has Peter’s cock throbbing. His blunt nails scratch at Peter’s scalp in a way that makes him groan, and then Tony is guiding his mouth back to his cock. “I know, sweet thing. I know what has you so worked up—or should we just come out and say it? Who.”

His gut clenches, cock jerking between his legs. Pushing himself forward, he lets himself gag on it, throat convulsing around the head of Tony’s cock before the urge becomes too much to fight through and he has to pull away. Tony loves it like this, messy and graphic, like if Peter doesn’t get to suck his cock, it might kill him. Sometimes, it hardly feels like an exaggeration.

“Please fuck me, sir,” Peter begs under his breath after pulling off, laying his cheek against the inside of Tony’s knee. His chest feels tight, balls heavy, ass already clenching around nothing because he’s empty, so empty, and nothing ever fills him up like Tony. “I need to get you in me. Please?”

Tony lets out a shaky breath through his nose, the only sign that he’s affected at all by Peter’s pleads. Nodding his head, he says, “Bend over the bed, Pete. I know what you need.”

Peter’s fingers feel useless and thick, scrabbling at the button on his jeans until Tony helps, hands steady and gentle. Those hands are large enough that Peter’s entire cock nearly disappears when the older man palms at him, giving him a firm, warm place to thrust into. Neither of them have any more than their pants shoved down past their knees but Peter feels stripped to his skin when Tony presses flush against him, a mimicry of the way they were just minutes before.

“Come on,” Peter gasps, feeling Tony’s naked cock rut against him from behind. He arches his back into a tantalizing bow. “It’s been, like, two whole days or something—”

Tony laughs into the curve of Peter’s neck. His long fingers wrap around Peter’s hips, holding him in place while he thrusts against him. “Two days since we fucked. But when’s the last time you had those greedy fingers inside of yourself?”

“This morning,” Peter admits, flushing.

“I thought you took longer than usual in the shower. How many fingers?”

“I had to condition!—and two, sir. God, please—!”

Tony hushes him, pressing him forward with a hand at the center of his back until he’s bent in half, exposed and waiting. He leaves Peter there, rutting his cock against the six-hundred thread count sheets while he gets the lube from inside the bedside drawer. Peter turns his head to watch as Tony slicks his cock, taking a moment to jerk himself off.

The sight of it makes him feel like fire is just under his skin, makes him give out a long, low, “Fuuuck.”

His older lover’s eyes crack open, mouth quirking slyly. Once behind him, he feels Tony spread him open and then the blunt head of his cock presses forward, docking against Peter’s opening and stealing the last of the breath from his lungs. “I hope you’re still a little loose, kid,” Tony says, gripping Peter’s hip. “Because this morning is all the prep you’re getting.”

When he thrusts in, long and slow and deep, a similar sound comes from Peter. Peter has always been vocal during sex. Tony is similar, although in a more eloquent way; his dirty talk could melt the tar on a country road. Peter is monosyllabic at best, completely inarticulate at worst. Groans rip from his throat as he scrabbles at the bedsheets, clutching them between his spasming fingers. Tony wraps an arm around his waist, the firm bar of his forearm resting just above Peter’s neglected cock so that he can pull him backwards into short, hard thrusts that Peter can feel all the way in his throat.

“Ohmygod,” Peter cries. “Don’t stop, don’t stop, never stop—”

Pulling Peter’s upper half up until they are chest-to-back, he whispers in Peter’s ear, “You know he can hear us out there, don’t you sweet thing?”

The noise that comes from Peter is hardly a cognizant answer, but Tony is fluent in it. He laughs a little. “Yeah, you do. You know it. More than likely he can’t make out what I’m saying, but your every little noise must come loud and clear through that door, baby boy. Are you putting on a show for him, Pete? You want him to hear how good your daddy gives it to you? Say it. Say it so he can hear—say, yes daddy.”

“Yes, daddy!”

“Fuck, that’s perfect. Me too, kid, me too,” Tony admits. His thrusts are already coming more sporadically, like the thought of Bucky listening in itself is driving him wild. He slips his hand free from Peter’s grip and guides it to his lover’s neglected cock. Just the simplest touch feels like electricity, and he doesn’t know whether to thrust into the firm grip or to arch his back deeper, to open himself up more. Tony continues on, muttering in Peter’s ear: “Is it bad that I want him to walk back through that door and see you like this, half-naked and leaking all over my fist? Or at night lately when we fuck, I’m thinking about the best ways to get you to scream so that he might hear it through the wall? Don’t think about him lying there at night trying not to touch his cock to us, it will just drive you crazy, kid, it will—”

Every muscle locks tight in Peter’s body as he cums. His body spasms, and he’d fall right off Tony’s cock if the other man didn’t have such a firm hold on him, pulling him back into his rutting thrusts again and again, giving him nowhere to run nor hide. Every thrust rubs the length of Tony’s cock against Peter’s prostate causing his cock to jerk and spit and his body to shudder from the stimulation. Still, Tony never stops jerking his cock, never stops those deep thrusts, and Peter feels an orgasm begin to crest in him again, equal parts painful and pleasurable. Synonyms, he thinks. It’s the same fucking thing, and then he cums again—

When his awareness returns, he’s on his back. Tony kneels on the mattress between his spread legs, cleaning him with a washcloth just warmer than his body.

“God, what did you do to me,” Peter whines, slapping weakly at Tony’s hands.

“Be lucky Bucky didn’t burst in here. I’m sure he thought I was killing you, with the way you were shouting,” Tony says.

“You were killing me. You did kill me. I’m dead, sir.”

“Had to give you something to remember me by, didn’t I?”

“Call me every day that you’re gone and I’ll tell you again. No, twice a day. And text me during the meetings.”

“Can do, sweet thing. Have fun with Bucky while I’m gone, alright?” Tony wiggles his eyebrows to clarify his meaning, like Peter’s mind doesn’t perpetually live in the gutter. Like 90% of his day isn’t spent thinking about riding one of their cocks or the other.

Peter rolls his eyes. “I don’t think he knows the meaning of the word fun, sir.”

Tony just smiles, hoisting one suitcase off of the floor and beginning to replace its contents.

Bucky watches Tony put his suitcases into the trunk. Leaning against one of the posts of the veranda, he can’t help but acknowledge the pleasing picture that the kid and Tony make together. They’re both unfairly attractive. Dark haired and dark eyed, but Tony’s tanned skin sets them apart. Peter is all paleness and vitamin D deficiencies where he leans up against the older man, pressed tightly against that expensive suit without a hair's breadth between them.

Fucking idiots, Bucky thinks to himself. If he had someone like that (or a couple of someone’s like that), someone he cared for and loved, he’d never let them out of his fucking sight. But that’s why he’s here: so that Tony can let Peter out of his sight without worrying about what might befall him.

From this distance, he can’t hear what the two are saying to each other, but it’s punctuated with a lot of soul-deep kissing that makes his cock twitch. He changes his point of gaze and looks out towards the gate that Tony will drive out of any minute.

Something flashes and draws his eye—Tony’s watch catching the light as he gestures Bucky over with two lazy fingers.

Stomach rolling (in the best, worst way), he walks down to where the car sits, boots crunching in the gravel.

Tony is stunning in the sunlight, glasses pushed up and away to reveal his eyes. They’re like amber, ready to trap Bucky inside them and keep him preserved there for a hundred thousand years. Gladly, Bucky thinks. Beside him, tucked into his side, Peter intently examines the edge of the property line, mouth red from being kissed and bitten.

“It goes without saying that you’re in charge while I’m gone and that you’re free to exercise any executive decisions that might need made to keep Peter safe, understood?”

“Yes, Mr. Stark.”

Tony smiles, showing white, straight teeth that Bucky’s tongue has begged to taste. In these last two weeks, Bucky has seen the man smile more than he had in years of working for him. He holds out a hand, and it takes Bucky two seconds too long to realize that Tony means for him to shake it. Heart in his throat, he clasps that warm palm not quite as broad as his own, taking care to hold firm but gentle. “Bucky, I can’t thank you enough for volunteering to keep Peter safe. Hiccups aside, I think you’ve done an incredible job.”

“The whole damn kid is a hiccup,” Bucky mutters, hoping that the stirring of fondness he feels inside his chest doesn’t transfer to his face. Peter scowls, flipping Bucky off behind Tony’s back. Without looking, Tony flicks the kid’s neck. The both of them laugh at Peter’s indignant, ouch! which only increases the storminess of the younger man’s expression.

“A hiccup. Well, that’s putting it nicely. My hiccup,” Tony admits, one side of his mouth quirking up. He uses a fond hand to ruffle Peter’s curls into a riotous style that mimics bedhead, and the kid melts into him. Then Tony’s voice drops low into a sensuality that Bucky is neither used to nor prepared for: “Yours, too, if you’d like.”

Bucky blinks, slow, retracing the conversation to see if there was something he missed, like a line skipped in the eager reading of a book’s page. On instinct, he feels his breathing grow shallow while he struggles not to make any secondary movements, to give away any tells. “What’s mine, Mr. Stark?”

“Peter, of course. I want you to know that while I’m gone, you can make use of him in any way you and he see fit. What is that Spanish phrase? Mi fucktoy es su fucktoy? No? Well, I’m better versed in Italian—anyway, it might be the only way to keep him out of trouble; he’s an insatiable creature.”

“I prefer cumslut, sir,” Peter says. “Fucktoy dehumanizes me.”

“You’re right, pumpkin, I’m sorry—”

“Wait,” Bucky interrupts. His mouth is dry, lower gut clenched tight at just the thought of what the man is offering to him. Offering his own lover, like Peter is nothing but a fucktoy, like Peter is nothing but an amenity that Bucky can take advantage of, no better than room service or fresh towels at a hotel. Only way fucking better than room service, he thinks, looking at the heavy-lidded expression on the young man’s face. God, none of this perversity should turn Bucky on as much as it does. “When you say make use of him—?”

“Fuck him. Suck him off. Have him suck you off. Peter can suck your soul out through your cock if you’ll just let him.” Tony puts a warm hand on Bucky’s shoulder. He feels it through his jacket, his shirt, his skin, right down to the bone. The man squeezes in a soft, friendly way. “I know that last time we discussed the idea I called it a, ah, forgivable indiscretion? But I think it’s clearer, now; you’ve earned him.”

Jesus Christ. Bucky has to work not to grind his jaw. Why are these two so committed to taking Bucky apart? They’re specially shaped tools, perfect for weaseling into the cracks in his armor and digging deeper. Deeper. He feels on the verge of madness, jerking his cock at every available moment to keep from letting the lust crowd his mind. But every time the kid makes a pass at him, every time Tony goes and offers the kid up to him, Bucky feels that much closer to breaking.

Maybe it’s inevitable. But Bucky hasn’t made it this far by breaking when the wind picks up. He plants his feet against the gale and resolves to stay that way—for however long he can.

“I won’t fuck the kid,” Bucky insists. He ignores the eye roll from the kid in question (that’s just Peter Parker, he’s learned. All eye rolls and sarcastic comments and rude hand gestures). Tony’s head tilts, like Bucky is a surrealist painting that will make sense if only he looks long enough. For a guy so good at strategy, at psychoanalyzing his enemies, Tony Stark sure doesn’t seem to know himself at all: the last thing he needs after what happened with Beck is Bucky fucking his boy. Desperate to be understood, he says: “You can trust me, Mr. Stark.”

Tony just lets out an even breath through his nose, reaching up to pull his glasses down and hide those whiskey-colored eyes.

#starker #winterironspider #nff #ahith #cagewrites

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deniigi · 5 years ago

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Are we gonna see more of lance corporal Wilson or the Blind Devil?

uhhhh not as of now. But! I have a little piece of them trying to bond with Benj for you, anon!

Basically, in this piece, the Blind Devil and Corporal Wilson take Benj with them to one of BD’s boxing matches and he has a somewhat adverse reaction.

Warning for panic attacks.

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Oh god, this was horrible. This was bad, horrible, and wrong and Maidíu was laughing up there in the ring through a smashed nose and the Lance Corporal was calling him names that May would have absolutely skewered Peter for using and it was just—

It was so much.

Everything was happening in double time. Triple time. In half the space—a quarter of the space--it ought to be happening in.

Peter was going to scream.

No. He wasn’t going to scream.

He never screamed. He’d been through so much worse than this. Walls had literally caved in on him multiple times and he hadn’t screamed. Nails had pierced his skin and bullets had slammed through his thighs.

A load of shouting people crammed in around a ring wasn’t going to be the thing that undid him. Not if he had anything to say about it.

“HEY.”

It wasn’t.

“Hey? Spiderkid?”

He just needed to breathe. That’s all.

“Spiderkid? Hey, hey. Woah. You don’t look so good, hon. Here, let’s move back.”

No, he was fine, LC.

He just—

Breathing. He needed to breathe and he couldn’t breathe with all these bodies pressing against him. Pressing into him. Squeezing him from all sides—

“What’s going on?”

Who was that?

“I don’t know. Seems like some kinda asthma?” LC Wilson called over the shouting.

It wasn’t asthma. Peter didn’t have asthma. He didn’t have anything; he just needed air. That was all. A little bit of space.

“What’s your name?”

“Mine?”

“Yeah.”

“Wilson. Wade Wilson. This here’s Pete.”

“Buddy of yours?”

“Yeah.”

“Ah, wait. You’re Matty’s pal?”

“Oh, hey! Yeah, that’s us. You heard of us?”

All this chatter was making Peter’s head swim and there were huge, heavy hands on his shoulders now and he wasn’t wearing the mask or the coat, so he couldn’t swing around and tear them off. Break the bones.

Make them never, ever touch him again.

He couldn’t—

Goddamnit, he couldn’t breathe.

“The name’s Jack. Matty’s my boy. Here, I’ll take this one out for a sec.”

“You sure? I can take ‘im.”

“Nah, ease off, kid. Matt ain’t need no help. He’s fixin’ to win this one. If he asks, tell ‘im I’m out with the smallest of youse.”

The huge hand on Peter’s shoulder tensed and pushed and Peter found that he couldn’t resist it. It shoved him through a torrent of bodies, back, back, back, until suddenly, everything was cold and dark again.

They were outside.

Peter collapsed forward, gasping. Coughing. Clutching at his knees.

It was way quieter outside in the cold.

It took him a long time feel comfortable opening his eyes. Out of the corner of one of them, he saw knees. He bolted up straight and nearly stumbled back at the sight of one of the biggest men he’d ever laid eyes on.

“I’m—I’m—” he stammered, caught between an apology and something else he didn’t really know.

“You’re alright, little one,” the huge man said with a wink.

He was Irish. Fuck, he was Irish.

Peter already found parsing Maidíu’s half-New York, half-Irish accent challenging at times, but this guy?

He is cadence was so jolting that it took Peter’s brain several seconds to make the sounds into words and the words into sentences.

“I’m sorry?” he said automatically.

“I said, ‘you’re alright,’” the huge man said. “Take a coupla breaths. You’ll be alright.”

What the fuck was he saying?

Peter still couldn’t make his ears adjust.

“I’m so sorry,” he repeated.

The huge man huffed.

The guy was patient and oddly gentle.

Peter only found out the latter bit when he tried to go back into the ring to find the Lance Corporal. He didn’t get very far. What he got was a hand on his shoulder and a slow push back.

“I’m okay,” he told the Irishman for what felt like the fortieth time. “I’m okay, I can go back in. I won’t ralph on your floors or nothing.”

“Mm-hm,” the Irishman said, nonbelieving.

A roar went up through the house behind him. Peter jerked at the sound. The Irishman’s expression didn’t change.

“I’m not drunk,” Peter told him.

The Irishman didn’t believe him. His eyes seemed half-closed from how far down he had to look at Peter.

Peter wondered if he had a chance here on the street.

If he got a good solid punch in, in the head-region he probably could. But he only had one chance. This fucker was going to know how to fight.

“Da?”

Eh?

Peter looked up to see Maidíu with his hand on the doorframe feeling around it and turning his face back and forth.

“Right ‘ere, son,” the huge man said.

“Ah. There you are,” Maidíu said, stepping more boldly forward towards the sound of the man’s voice. His nose was disgusting. The huge man—Maidíu’s father?—looked over at him and lifted a brow.

“Come on, now, Matty. Can’t be lettin’ someone get the drop on ya like that,” he said.

“Did for the crowd,” Maidíu told him.

“Sure ya did.”

Good lord, this was Maidíu’s father. No wonder he was the size of a house.

“This one’s one of yours, son?” Maidíu’s father asked him.

“Which one?”

“Skinny ‘un. Dark ‘air, dark eye, spectacles.”

“Ah. Peter, then. Wilson said you weren’t feelin’ so good, kid. You alright?”

Uuuuuuuh no.

But neither of these massive bulls needed to know that.

“I’m okay,” he said instead. “Just had a bout of asthma or something.”

“Looked to me like the shell-shock,” Maidíu’s father said out of nowhere.

Peter’s breath froze in his chest.

“Da, don’t be scarin’ him like that,” Maidíu scolded. “C’mere, Pete. Ignore him. He thinks he knows everythin’.”

“I do know everythin’, I’m old as mountains, I am,” Maidíu’s father said.

“He serves in a war, comes back, and now he’s got every story in the worl’ in his head,” Maidíu huffed.

“I keep ‘em there with the lumps,” his dad told Peter with a wink.

“Da.”

“Alright, alright. I’ll leave youse be. It was good meetin’ you, Pete. We’ll have you ‘round to a quieter night one of this days, eh, Matt?”

“Yea, yea. Feck off, old man.”

Maidíu waited for the bigger guy to move around him before holding a hand out to Peter.

“He didn’t scare ya too bad, did he?” he asked.

Peter shook his head, then caught himself.

“No,” he said. “Just—I wanted to watch you, uh. You know. Fight. The LC seemed to be having a good time.”

Maidíu blinked sightless, scarred eyes Peter’s way and then smiled.

“It’s alright,” he said. “It can be really overwhelmin’ the first time you’re really in it. Da used to put me up high so’s he’d know I wouldn’t get crushed.”

Oh.

Oh, okay.

Peter sighed before he could stop himself. Maidíu cocked his head and carefully stepped forward, feeling with his toes for the edge of the steps his father had been previously been guarding.

“What’s the matter, Pete?” Maidíu asked gently.

“Nothing,” Peter said.

“I don’t know much, son. But I know it ain’t nothin’.”

Peter sighed again.

“I just—I wanted—I want—”

He didn’t know how to make the feeling into words. He couldn’t even do it in his head, how was he supposed to out loud?

“You want to be included?”

Oh.

Maybe like that.

“I want to have friends,” Peter felt himself say in a rush.

He didn’t mean to say it.

“I want to be like you guys. I want to just—you know. Have fun. Go to a match. Just relax and watch. But it’s like—I can’t. Every time I go out with people, it’s like I can’t make everything stop. My head’s always goin’ and everything starts getting’ really close together and I can’t help but start checkin’ over my shoulders—and it all just defeats the purpose,” Peter spewed forth in frustration.

Maidíu said nothing.

Peter sucked in a big breath.

He didn’t expect anyone to understand. He didn’t know why they would. No one else he knew had this feeling.

“Forget it,” he said.

“You know,” Maidíu’s rumbly voice said softly, “Da might not have been too far off there.”

“What?” Peter asked. “What do you mean?”

Maidíu shrugged a shoulder and itched at the drying blood on his face.

“I just mean, that—well. I was a wain when Da came back from the Front, but he had all these stories, ya know? Of men doin’ this and doin’ that. ‘Cause of the shell-shock. He used to tell me that some of his buddies’ eyes would go wide and they’d start breathin’ fast and funny. Gaspin’ like they couldn’t get enough air in, and they’d want to get out of the trench. They’d be sayin’ that they’d suffocate if they stayed in the trench. But you know, they couldn’t get up overhead. That was nothin’ but a death sentence. So.” Maidíu trailed off.

“You think I’ve got shell-shock,” Peter scoffed.

“I think you got somethin’ like it,” Maidíu said. “Don’t worry, though, kid. I get those feelings too, sometimes. Comes from being blind, I suspect. Gets real lonely sometimes. But then it’s all too much at the same time, too. Helps to just come outside and breath. That’s what my old man was tryin’ to get you to do.”

Ah.

Right.

That was…embarrassing.

“You’re alright, Peter. It’s okay. Here, do me a favor, huh?”

Peter lifted his face to see Maidíu holding out a hand with rough, calloused fingers. His own hands felt small and skinny at his sides.

“Peter.”

He balled them, stepped forward and took ahold of the fingers.

“Atta boy,” Maidíu told him.

“What do you need?” Peter asked him.

“Ah, well. See, me old man’s ‘bout to pummel a man into the ropes and it’s been ages since I knew what it looked like.”

Peter frowned.

“So you want me to what?” he asked.

“Tell me what it looks like,” Maidíu asked with alight lift to his eyebrows. “Don’t have to be perfect or anythin’. But it’d be nice to hear some commentary. You know, like on the radio. Is that okay?”

Yeah. Yeah, that was okay.

“Maybe we should find the Lance Corporal first,” Peter said. “You know his commentary’ll be better than mine.”

Maidíu smiled and turned his head back towards the commotion taking place inside the building again.

“If you say so,” he said.

When Peter came in closer, the fingers in his hand migrated until they were cupped around his elbow. The light light from inside made him take a deep breath. He held it. Then took another.

“Good work,” Maidíu said. “Here, let’s stay in the back so I can hear ya over this lot.”

Yes.

Yes, let’s do that.

One foot forward up these stairs. That was all. He was helping this blind man. This blind man was his friend.

He’d be okay. They’d be in the back, away from the crowd.

“Good man, Pete. You’re a brave little thing, you know that?” Maidíu encouraged.

Peter laughed.

Brave.

Yeah.

Obviously.

He was Spiderman. He was so brave. And so stupid. So reckless and cocky.

Come along now, Spiderman. Onward march, already.

“Come on, Devilman,” he said. “Step to it, we don’t got all night.”

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#fic #ficlet #into the multiverse

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norminahs-child · 4 years ago

Text

Little Monster (Norminah Adoption Story)

Draft from my Wattpad😅

Dinah giggles, "I'm not. I'm just wondering how I got so lucky to have you." She says, wrapping her arms around Normani's waist and pulling her closer before cuddling into her side. Normani looks at Dinah, "I beg to differ. If anything, I'm the lucky one. You're so amazing..." She mumbles before placing a soft peck on Dinah's lips. Pretty soon, the door busts open, "WAKE UP! ALLY MADE BREAKFAST!" Camila shouts loudly. Normani smile slightly while shaking her head, "We'll be down in a bit, Camila." She says. Camila groans, "Really, Mani?! I told you to call me Mila! When you say my name, it sounds so... Proper." She says with a shudder making Dinah snicker slightly.

Normani sits up with Dinah still holding onto her and tilts her head, "Is that a bad thing?" She asks. Camila shakes her head, "Nope. Just weird." She says. Normani feigned hurt, "Good to know, Mila." She says. Dinah laughs, "We'll be down, Chancho. Tell Ally to make our plates." She says. Camila sends a thumbs up before walking out and closing the door.

Normani shakes her head and stands up, "I don't understand how you deal with her. She's a very nice girl... But, how do you deal with her?" She asks, trying not to sound rude. Dinah laughs, "Baby, chill. She's my best friend. Yeah, she's a little unbearable, but I wouldn't trade her for no one else. Plus, you know she looks up to you." She says, subtly admiring the dark skin beauty that was in nothing but her (Dinah's) shirt, which was a little big on her, and her undergarments.

Normani looks back at Dinah, "I don't understand why. We're about the same height." She says. Dinah rolls her hazel like gold eyes, "You know what I mean, princess." She says, jokingly using the nickname Normani hated. Normani shakes her head, "Still, Dinah Jane. I don't understand. She's a bit of a mystery for a girl so... Bubbly." She says, unsure of what word to use. Dinah slowly stands up and walks to their shared closet, "That she is. We've been best friends since we were little supernaturals and she's still a mystery to me." She says from the closet.

Normani hums, "Interesting..." She mumbles before walking to where Dinah is and wrapping her arms around the taller woman's waist, placing her chin on her shoulder, "Are you going to let me braid your hair again?" Normani asks making Dinah freeze and look back at her, "This is not up for debate, is it?" She asks. Normani shakes her head making Dinah curse under her breath.

After the duo got dressed, they made their way downstairs. Lauren was knocked out with her head on the table, "You didn't get enough sleep, Ralph?" Dinah asks softly. The older female shakes her head sleepily. Being the affectionate person she was, Dinah gently kisses Lauren's head making her sigh softly. Normani smiles softly, "After breakfast, I'm doing your hair." She says making Dinah groan. Camila snickers, "I swear to go-" Ally glares at Camila from the kitchen, "Bananas! I swear when you do Dinah's hair, it sounds like you two are having sex. Like, does getting your hair done hurt that bad?!" She asks. Dinah turns red, "Yea, it does!" She defends. Normani shrugs, "She's way louder when we're having sex." She says making Lauren groan, "Too much information, Manz!" She exclaims as Dinah looked away with a deep red blush. Ally raises an eyebrow, "I guess that sound proof spell and the lock spell came in handy, huh?" She asks, walking out of the kitchen with plates floating above her head.

Ally had on a sports bra and cargo pants. Dinah just buries her face in her hand with a groan, "Can we not?" She asks. Camila just tries to reach for her plate with a pout as Ally kept moving it from her, "Anyways, eat up, children." Ally says while putting their plates down. Dinah and Camila squealed befoee digging in. Normani smiles softly, "Thank you, Allyson." She says greatfully. Ally returns the smile, "No problem, Normani." She responds before sitting down herself.

After the group of five finished eating, Lauren, Ally, and Camila had to endure an hour and a half of Dinah screaming and crying because her head hurts, "DAMN IT, DINAH! IT DOES NOT HURT THAT BAD, BE QUIET!" Normani snaps. Dinah glares up at Normani through tearfilled eyes, "YES IT DOES, ASSHOLE! YOU KNOW I'M SENSITIVE!" She shouts back. They continued shouting at each other as the other three laughed loudly at the duo. It was unusual to see Normani shouting or showing any type of emotion, so they were enjoying it.

After Normani was done with Dinah's hair, Dinah held a mean ass glare towards the neutral shorter girl. Normani stands up and walks over to the obviously butt hurt Dinah, grips her by her neck and places a soft, passionate kiss on her lips. Just like that, all Dinah's anger and pain disappeared in an instant. Dinah didn't know if it was because of Normani's powers or Dinah's overwhelming love for her to stay mad. Normani broke away from the kiss, "Feel a little better?" She asks, her eyes glowing red. Dinah's eyes glowed gold, "Y-Yes..." She says.

Ally awwed while Lauren and Camila gagged, "Anyway, Cheechee, you're hair looks amazing!" Camila exclaims,

Lauren nods, "Yeah! Braids look good on you girl!" She says. Normani smiles softly, "Call me a miracle worker because I swear on everything evil, I was about to hurt Dinah." She growls playfully making everyone laugh. Dinah leans her head on Normani's shoulder, "Um, Normani." Dinah says. Normani got an instant red flag. Dinah doesn't really call her by her first name unless something was wrong or if she needed to get something off of her chest.

Normani kisses her forehead, "What's wrong, my love?" She asks. Dinah stands up and gently drags her by the stairs leading to the second floor. Dinah sits down on the second step with a nervous look. Normani started to get a little worried. Dinah's whole aura was a blueish color which meant she was scared. Dinah's normal aura was white, "What's wrong?" Normani asks while sitting down beside her wife of 3 years.

Dinah nervously looks around, "Baby I... I love you, and you know this..." She starts making Normani sweat slightly, Oh god, is she trying to divorce me? Was all that ran through Normani's head. As if Dinah read her thoughts, she reaches over and squeezes Normani's hand, giving her a sweet kiss, "It's nothing bad, Mani. I promise." Dinah reassures, easing Normani's nerves slightly. Dinah lets out a shaky sigh, "Mani, I want a child." She says making Normani's eyes widen, "Um, DJ... Do you not know that we are both women?" She asks, clearly stating the obvious.

Dinah lets out a breathy chuckle, "I know, Mani... I want to adopt. I want to adopt with you. I want us to have a family, Normani. Yeah, Camila, Lauren, and Ally are our family, but I want a daughter." She says. Normani was unsure. It's not like she didn't want to expand her family with Dinah, she just wasn't sure about a kid, "I-I don't know, Dinah." Normani says, almost instantly regreting what she said as she saw the heartbreak in Dinah's eyes, "Wh-Why, Normani? D-Do you n-not want a f-family with me?" She stutters out, her voice cracking badly.

Normani shakes her head, "That's not it... It's just I... I don't know, what if I'm not a good mom? What if I turn out like my parents?" She asks. Dinah cups Normani's cheek, "Look at me... You won't turn out like your parents. They left you, they abused you. You're nothing like them. You'll be an amazing mom... We'll be amazing moms with Lauren, Camila, and Ally being amazing aunties. Give it a chance, baby..." Dinah begs. Normani stares into Dinah's hazel eyes, "I... Okay. I'll give it a try..." She says softly making Dinah smile.

End Chapter~

#wattpad #norminah #fifth harmony #gxglesbianlgbt #gxg imagine #supernatural #saved in my drafts

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ghosttotheparty · 4 years ago

Text

say my name and say it twice (cotton candy skies)

20. also on AO3 chapter nineteen

Lucas’s face falls as he rereads the words on his screen.

Call ended.

He lets himself deflate, his shoulders dropping as he sighs, closing his eyes. He puts his elbows on his desk in front of him, holding his face in his hands as he squeezes his eyes shut, tensing his face and shoulders before collapsing, dropping so his head rests on his forearms, crossing on the cold surface of his desk. He feels it against his skin, the sleeves of his worn sweater rolled up past his elbows, and he embraces it, focuses on it, lets it consume him, until he lifts his head, pulling his sleeves down over his hands, tugging them past his fingers and gripping them in his fists, the material twisted around his fingers. He lifts his hands and rubs the material on his face, letting it scratch gently, his eyes still closed.

He lets himself be alone.

The flat is empty, Zoë and Senne off somewhere, Milan on a lunch date, and it’s silent, except for the hum of his heater and the quiet sounds of the flat settling, creaks in the wood floor and doors. His hands drift from his face, crossing over his chest to cradle his shoulders, which are slightly shrugged up, uncomfortable and stiff.

He doesn’t notice his feet tapping the ground anxiously, hitting against the wood of the floor and of the leg of his char, doesn’t notice his teeth tugging at his bottom lip, biting the skin, doesn’t notice how it hurts. He doesn’t hear anything.

So he jumps when he hears his computer chime loudly, after who knows how long, and he looks up when it continues, the screen glowing, letting him know that Ralph is calling him.

He lets go of himself, pushing his shoulders down and rubbing his face quickly, taking a deep breath before he answers, forcing a smile.

“Hey.”

“Hello, my love!” Ralph is grinning, his arms crossed on the table in front of him, a table Lucas doesn’t recognise. He doesn’t recognise the room behind Ralph either, the wall that sunlight is streaming across, or the fixture hanging from the ceiling. “Are you okay?”

Lucas looks from the fixture to Ralph and sees that his smile has dropped slightly, his brows furrowed.

“Yeah, I’m good,” he lies. “Uhm, where are you?”

“I’m in Norway, visiting a friend.” Ralph looks over his computer screen and waves a hand.

Another man joins him, tossing an arm around Ralph’s shoulders. He has short strawberry blonde hair. He looks kind of like a fairy.

“Hi, I’m Eskild,” he says in English, and Lucas smiles, waving.

“Hey,” Lucas says, pointing at him, suddenly recognising him. “You were at that party in Utrecht, right?”

Eskild nods, grinning.

“I’m Lucas.”

“Ralph has told me all about you, he loves you.”

“Aw.” Lucas grins as Ralph shoves at Eskild. (There’s a “Shut up!” that Lucas almost misses.)

“You said you had to tell me something?” Ralph asks when Eskild lets go of him, stepping to the side.

“Yeah, so—”

“Is it okay that I’m here?” Eskild interrupts, holding his hands up. “I can leave if you want.”

“Oh, no, it’s fine. Actually you’ll probably be happy too, you guys seem to be kindred spirits.”

Eskild coos excitedly, pulling a chair up next to Ralph’s and Ralph moves over. Lucas waits as they get situated.

“Okay, tell us,” Ralph says, and they both look up at him.

“So…” Lucas takes a deep breath. He pauses, hearing a creak in the floor, and waits for a few seconds, listening, and continues when he doesn’t hear anything else. “I have a boyfriend.”

“You have a what?” Ralph practically yells and Eskild exclaims and claps. Lucas giggles, covering his face. “Wait, say that again, I wanna hear it again.”

“I have a boyfriend.”

“Oh my god.” Ralph takes a heavy breath and looks away before looking back. “Do you remember when you told me—” “Ralph, sto-o-op.”

“—that you didn’t think you’d ever find someone?”

Eskild watches them, his jaw dropped, his hands still clasped in front of him.

Lucas sighs, smiling, and looks away, exasperated.

“I think I was…”

“What?” Eskild prompts when he trails off, and Lucas pauses before finishing his thought.

“I think I was waiting for him.”

They both squeal loudly, grabbing at each other, and Lucas laughs.

“That’s so fucking cute, oh my god,” Ralph says, shoving Eskild’s shoulder.

“I know.”

“What’s his name?” Ralph asks, leaning over, his elbows in the table.

“Jens.” Lucas can feel his face burning, can feel his cheeks flushing bright, and it only makes his smile more.

“Jens,” Ralph sighs. “Tell us about him, is he pretty?”

“Yes.”

They both snicker.

“How did you meet?” Eskild asks.

“Uhm… So I just kind of wander the city a lot, and one day I happened to be outside his dance studio when he was finishing practise.”

“Wait, his what studio?” Ralph asks, his jaw dropped and his eyes wide.

“Dance? He’s a ballerina.”

They both start yelling, grabbing at each other again, a mess of “Oh my go-o-o-od!” and “Ballerina!”, and Lucas laughs again, pressing his sweater-covered hands over his mouth.

“Lucas, you are… living my dream,” Eskild says when they manage to calm down, and Lucas laughs harder, not knowing what to say.

“How long have you guys been together?” Ralph asks.

“Uhm, a few weeks? I don’t really know what actually like, was the start of the relationship, if that makes sense.”

“Explain, please.”

“Like…” Lucas sighs. “When we first started hanging out, we were already kind of… flirty?” They both are smiling at him, and he keeps talking, trying to ignore it. “Like teasing and stuff, and then holding hands and playing with each other’s hair. And we went on a few dates.” “Where to?” Ralph asks.

“A cafe, skateparks. Honestly, just us hanging out outside his studio felt like dates.”

“That’s precious,” Eskild says.

“Who made the first move?” Ralph asks, setting his chin on his palm.

“Uhm,” Lucas pauses, thinking. “I asked to hang out first. And then I kissed him, but we didn’t talk about it at all. And then I told him to kiss me because he was taking too long.”

“Ooo, Lucas is bold.”

He shrugs, smiling bashfully.

“Wait, have you guys…” Ralph doesn’t finish the question, lowering his chin and raising his eyebrows as Eskild punches his shoulder.

“Ralph…” Lucas looks away, feeling like he just shoved his face into a pool of lava, suppressing a smile.

“I can’t tell if that’s a yes or a no.”

“No, we haven’t.”

“Okay,” Ralph says, holding his hands up like he’s surrendering. “Not a problem.”

“Do you want to?” Eskild asks, curiosity clearly getting the best of him.

“I mean…” Lucas sighs. “I guess, yeah. But if he doesn’t want to, like if it doesn’t happen, I won’t be upset, you know?”

“You’re an angel, Lucas van der Heijden,” Ralph says, and Lucas’s smile grows again.

He doesn’t feel as sad anymore.

Ralph seems to remember at the same time as him.

“Hey, did something happen before I called? You seemed… off.”

“I, uhm…” He pauses, contemplating whether or not to tell them. “I’d been talking to Jayden.”

“Jayden, skater Jayden?”

Lucas chuckles at this, the way Ralph has managed to remember his friends that he doesn’t know well. Skater Jayden, Skater Kes, Liv’s Noah, Liv’s Isa, etc.

“That’s the one.”

“Who’s Jayden?” Eskild asks, looking confused.

“One of Luc’s friends in Utrecht.”

Eskild nods, looking back to Lucas.

“Tell us,” Ralph says, and Lucas almost laughs at the seriousness of it all, at how they’re both looking at him like they’re his dads.

“I don’t know, I haven’t really been keeping up with him or Kes. Or anyone, really, except you and Noah. And we just happened to be online at the same time so he asked if I wanted to call and I said yeah, so��” He pauses, rubbing his face, feeling them both looking at him. “It was awkward at first, just because we haven’t been talking, and then it was fine, and then—” He cuts himself off, huffing and tossing his hands, suddenly frustrated. Pissed.

“What happened?” Eskild presses softy.

“I don’t know, he just… He started acting weird and then he kind of made a comment that like… that I’ve changed. And I tried to just shrug it off and I made a joke about moving countries, and he acted like… Like it was weird.”

“What the hell?” Ralph drops his hand and makes a face. “Did he say anything?”

“He said ‘You’ve changed,’ and then ‘Why are you acting like this?’ but when I asked what he meant he just changed the subject. And when we hung up it was just really uncomfortable and weird, and I just…”

“What the hell?” Ralph repeats.

“He seemed upset,” Lucas adds, his voice small, and for a second he thinks they couldn’t hear him.

“He can’t be upset about that,” Eskild says suddenly, looking at Ralph and then Lucas on the screen. “That’s what people do.”

“Yeah, exactly,” Ralph says, pointing at him. “That’s basically the meaning of life. The whole point of existence is change and growth.” Lucas listens intently. “And he may not know it but the way that you’ve changed has been growth. Every time we’ve talked since you moved to Antwerp, you seem more and more at ease with yourself, and you seem happier and happier.”

Lucas smiles.

“He can’t be mad that you’re changing,” Ralph continues, looking angry. “If you walk into a forest and find a sprig, you can’t be mad when you go back five years later and find a tree. That’s not—” He huffs and Eskild places a hand on his forearm.

“He has no reason to be upset,” Eskild continues for him. “It’s not like he hasn’t changed at all, right?”

“His hair is longer,” Lucas contributes. “And he has a new earring.”

“There you go, are you mad about it?”

Lucas laughs.

“No.”

“Exactly. Jayden’s a dummy.”

Lucas and Ralph laugh again, shaking their heads at Eskild.

“And why haven’t you been talking to them, was it just, like…” Ralph asks.

“I don’t know, when I first moved we talked a lot and kept up, but eventually it felt like I was the only one actually trying. Like, all their texts felt dry, and I just felt like they didn’t want to talk to me.” They nod. “Which could just be anxiety, but I stopped texting first as much and it just dwindled.”

“So none of them really talk to you?” Ralph says, looking surprised, and Lucas shakes his head.

“Not really.”

“You can’t give a hundred percent in a relationship with someone who won’t even give fifty,” Eskild says, and Ralph nods, pointing at him.

“Yeah,” Lucas sighs. “I’m kind of over it, I’m not that mad.”

They both look at him, looking sympathetic, their eyes soft.

“I mean, it hurt at first. But I’ve got Jens. And you guys, and Noah. And some friends here. It’ll be fine.”

Ralph smiles sadly.

“That’s true. You’ll always have people.”

“I’ll always have people.”

There’s a moment of silence and then Lucas snickers quietly.

“You guys are good… what’s the word I’m looking for, mentors? Confidants?”

“Gurus,” they say simultaneously, and then exclaim and point at each other excitedly as Lucas says, “That’s it!”

Ralph and Eskild laugh hysterically, and Lucas can’t help but laugh with them.

He gets Eskild’s phone number and Instagram before they hang up.

#TRIPLE CROSS OVER #also yes i am aware that jens would be a ballerino #actually he rly wouldnt bc hes a student but #whatever #van der stoffels #vds #lucas van der heijden #jens stoffels #jens x lucas #wtfock #wtfock fic #skam nl #skam nl fic #say my name and say it twice #cotton candy skies #cotton candy skies always look better in person

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smolbeandrabbles · 5 years ago

Text

Control - Ralph Anderson x Shifter!Reader 2 (The Outsider)

Sequel to Halfway Home

@mandy23b @wltz-bby @happyskywhale #mendotagsquad

Author’s Note: This song, this damn song, oh my god. I confess I hadn’t listened to any Halsey at all (besides a couple of collabs with other artists I like) until I was music swapping with @mandy23b... But I honestly don’t think I’ve loved an album this much lyrically in a very long time! Anyway, a second part was always in the works. This song for sure inspired the finish of it.

Thank you @mendelskrull and @crawlingmist I really REALLY hope the sequel was worth the wait 🙈🙈🙈🙈

Control - Halsey

Disclaimer: gif not mine / lyrics not mine / The Outsider & all associated characters not my property!

I wrote this before I read ‘If It Bleeds’ but I see the immediate eerie similarities in my Shifter species. I think I might cover it off in the finale...

Premise: After a particularly erratic encounter with Ralph Anderson, you wait on your fate... can you trust the Detective to make the right choice? Can he trust you, at all?

Words: 5737

Warnings: Swearing

⚠ Major Angst/Hurt Caution Warning (Again) ⚠

_____

They send me away to find them a fortune A chest filled with diamonds and gold The house was awake, the shadows and monsters The hallways, they echoed and groaned

I sat alone, in bed till the morning I'm crying, "They're coming for me" And I tried to hold these secrets inside me My mind's like a deadly disease

I paced around for hours on empty I jumped at the slightest of sounds And I couldn't stand the person inside me I turned all the mirrors around

I'm bigger than my body I'm colder than this home I'm meaner than my demons I'm bigger than these bones

And all the kids cried out, "Please stop, you're scaring me" I can't help this awful energy God damn right, you should be scared of me Who is in control?

---

Your first visitor the following morning surprised you. You thought Ralph might just have blanket banned the entire city from seeing you, but apparently some just wanted to break the rules. DA Kenneth Hayes stood hesitantly in the doorway watching you, clutching papers close to his chest – and you were inquisitive enough to wonder if he was about to serve you, or, you were going to be dragged into a questioning room. You sat yourself straight against the wall and folded your arms; “What will it be Hayes?” He jumped, and for a moment you thought you’d get a good laugh out of the papers scattering – no such luck though. “Detective Anderson has already appeared to have considered the full 48 hours. I just hoped as the DA you’d be able to shed a little light on the subject.” He was staring at you like he couldn’t believe you were talking, like an animal had suddenly found a human voice. You weren’t in the mood; “Look if you can’t tell me anything-” “Ralph told us to stay away from you.” “Then why are you here?” You realised how exasperated you sounded, but you hardly cared. “Are you… are you really…?” It was obvious that Hayes couldn’t bear to even voice it. “Yes. I am what he says I am. No, I didn’t have a hand in anything that happened here…” You tilted your head, “I don’t see why it has much consequence to you. They didn’t even tell you.” “But I know now.” You sighed; “Hayes just put me out of my misery, what’s the big plan!? I know I’m behind bars but I’m not an animal in a zoo.” Your eyes flashed, and it caused him to step back, truth was you were no longer trying to hide it, and they could all blame Ralph for that. “Least you could do is stop gawking at me like I’m about to spring into some kind of murderous, child-killing rampage, or change form.” He swallowed, “Ralph has it all planned out and I trust him.” “You know he put a gun to my head yesterday, right?” “I’m aware.” “Sounds like intent to me.” You scoffed, “I suppose to you I wouldn’t come under the remit of human rights, huh?” The way your eyes were burning an odd iridescent silver, and emitting light the way they were, made Hayes even more uneasy than just the thought of you really being a Shapeshifter, and he backed away – heart racing, “Good day, Y/N.” You shook your head after him with a roll of your eyes – Humans had always been so typical. Part of you wished for the days of old, when your kind was fascinating, mystifying and worshiped – and you could all coexist. Before humans, as they did, got ideas beyond their station. Now you were still revered, but not for being so unusual – for the thought alone that you could threaten their existence. People like Kenneth Hayes would brush this off as a bad dream and would never allow it to be mentioned or lingered on again, even if it was witnessed. Ralph would never forget – and it would scar him deep; that was without the added heartbreak of you. You were the final nail in the coffin for your beloved detective. You were sitting against the bars with your eyes closed the next time someone joined you. And you were immediately suspicious by the level of calm they issued – for one, you weren’t even in the mood to have visitors now. Ralph hadn’t come by, and by now you were thinking of refusing an apology if he even offered one. “Go away.” You groaned softly, “I don’t need you all staring at me like I’m some form of entertainment.” There was a tap against the bars and you cracked your eye open, greeted by a disposable coffee cup; “I’d rather make sure you were okay.” You took the cup from Detective Sablo, “Why? You were in Tennessee too. Your best friend know you’re doing this?” Yune sighed as he crossed the room to sit on the bench opposite your cell; “He’s not my best friend.” “Yeah he is…” You took a sip, and hummed in gratitude; he’d remembered your coffee order. Yune smiled gently; “I’m not afraid of you.” “You should be. He is.” “He loves you.” “Loved. I think you’ll find.” And you’d not forget that soon enough, your heart still greeted you with a sharp pain in remembrance. “Ralph’ll come around.” You indicated to the cell that you were stuck in, and it made him grimace, “Okay, I know. It’ll be a long time…” He ran his hands through his hair, “But I believe in the two of you – Look, Y/N, I want all of us to get out of this… I’ll talk to him; we’ll get you out of here. I promise.” “I’m not sure he wants to see me.” You took a few gulps of coffee, “At least not alive.” “Ralph’s not like that, you know he’s not like that.” You finished the cup and placed it outside of the cell for him to collect. “Yune, answer me one question.” He nodded, ready for it, and you breathed, “Who killed the Shifter in Tennessee?” “…I think it was a joint effort.” “Answer the question.” “I wasn’t there-” “Yune!” He had to realise that skipping around it was just as bad as what you knew the answer was. He swallowed hard, and couldn’t meet your eyes, “Ralph did.” You gave him a pointed look; which made his statement all but useless, “RALPH did.” *** Surprisingly Ralph Anderson did make his way down to you. You thought he might leave it the full two days and deal with you when he had to let you go, or when Hayes had figured out something that would lead to you spending a lot of time in prison. Maybe they’d even work out a way to pin the death penalty on you. You wondered if it’d work – but you weren’t sure you wanted to be the test subject. Or maybe he’d found a lab somewhere that was going to take you in – despite the fact that he’d spent the later part of his threats yesterday telling you that he’d rather no one knew you existed. You were back to lying on your bed and studying yourself with a depth of self-hatred – that this was something you’d chosen for yourself. That if Ralph Anderson came face to face with the real you, he probably wouldn’t have hesitated with pulling that trigger. That the blood flowing through your veins looked like the ink Ralph would make notes with in every interview he’d ever conducted, otherworldly, ethereal… dark and cold – rather than the rich red that could be associated with such emotions as anger, love and passion. The kind of emotions that were easy to feed on – your preference was love. Love was strong, and it only got stronger, and even when it wasn’t some kind of all raging passion when two people were all over each other, it was still there. And if you could surround yourself with couples (particularly those that had been in love a long time) you were at your happiest; and also your strongest. You supposed your Cherokee City counterpart had the same edge, but for fear, anger and total chaos. You could eat like a human, but you could sustain yourself on emotion alone. If he’d chosen a better path, he would have been able to as well – but he had to cause the pain he fed on. Which is why he had to move so frequently. After all, you couldn’t keep those close that you made angry or fearful of you – let alone if they died. But if someone loved you, if someone really loved you, you could live the rest of your life on them alone. You’d spent the best four years of your life living on his. But that was not the emotion that overtook Ralph Anderson’s body as he entered the room. It never would be again. You turned your head to him, and were met with that icy steel blue; calmer than last night, which you were glad of – you didn’t want to have to face that erratic anger again. But it hurt you; because your heart stirred just to see his face, and you had to push all of that back once more. He kept track of your every movement, but said nothing. When Ralph was satisfied, he opened the door; “Out.” You raised yourself, “What, they didn’t give you the full 48?” His eyes narrowed slightly; “I said out.” You stood and he unlatched the handcuffs from his belt “Hands front.” You raised an eyebrow in questioning but did as he asked. This was even more painful for Ralph – half of him felt terrible for going so out of control yesterday; half of him knew he was face to face with a monster, a woman who had lied to him for four years and broken his heart. He wasn’t about to apologise – and didn’t think you were either. He still kept his eyes on you as he picked up the bag, hating the fact that you were wearing one of his favourite shirts – he should never have given you that. But Ralph didn’t want any of your things in the house. He pulled himself upright to full height – you took half a step back, still not sure of exactly what he would do to you. You didn’t think Ralph knew himself. “Lets go.” He pulled you out of the cell and down the corridor – Ralph wasn’t about to tell you where of course, and it left you wondering if you were about to be met by a lawyer and a judge, and the same kind of water tight evidence that Terry Maitland had been. You supposed to the humans here your race deserved nothing less. And perhaps they were right. Humanity had never scared you; even when it had driven your race to hiding – you’d grown up around them, and you’d blended well. But humans had become the kind of scary stories told to children that ‘monsters’ were to them. Ralph’s reaction was simply proving every one of those stories true. When he pulled you back to the elevators you wondered if this was about to be Terry and the courthouse part II. Crowds of hundreds wanting a glimpse of a terrifying creature, and a few well aimed shots… “Stop it.” He growled, although he refused to look at you – talking to him was only going to make it worse, but upon flicking your eyes to the elevator doors you realised that all the thoughts in your head were causing your eyes to burn silver again. You blinked a couple of times and they returned to their ‘natural’ colour. Ralph gripped you tighter as he pushed you in, and as you found yourself in the parking lot, you were surprised to see there wasn’t a soul in sight. That only made you turn to him; “Where are we going?” He ignored you, pulling him along to his car and opening the back door – your stare was defiant and this time you demanded it, “WHERE are we going!?” “Get. In. The. Car.” Ralph’s voice shook with every syllable and you knew he was dangerously close to losing it with you again. He also probably didn’t like that you weren’t about to just let him order you around here, you’d always had a little bit of push about you – it was an aspect of your personality he really liked, especially when you were snarking someone he didn’t. Right now, Ralph didn’t need or want it – he just wanted you to get in the car so that he could do what he must. You only conceded because you weren’t sure you wanted that stalemate to end with getting shot – a little too aware of the pistol on his utility belt. He slammed the door on you and took a deep breath; it wouldn’t take much – he’d done it before. If he could keep a clear head, he could do it again – Ralph could finish this easily. All he had to do was get through this. *** You realised very quickly that you were heading for the city limits and sat up, twisting around in your seat. No court case? No going back home? You knew where the jail was and he certainly wasn’t heading that way. What was he doing? You bit your lip, knowing it couldn’t be good. Wondering if Ralph was numb to it all, or was simply that good at controlling his emotional output. It scared you that you weren’t sure of the answer. And suddenly you wished you didn’t know the answer to the question you’d asked Yune; one tear leaked and you rubbed your cheek on your shoulder to hide it, heck, now you wished you’d never asked that question in the first place. When Ralph finally stopped the car you weren’t sure ‘middle of nowhere’ covered it. You weren’t even sure what you were supposed to feel – and he’d been off-roading for so long he might well have been lost. Maybe Ralph Anderson wanted to get lost. It occurred to you that he might not want to be found out here; maybe he’d take that pistol and kill you before turning it on himself. Ralph didn’t seem like the type, but you felt perhaps now you’d seen him at his worst (what else would you call the previous evening), maybe he was… maybe he could do something that devastating. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel for a long time before he decisively shut the engine off – gathering his radio, cell phone, and gun, Ralph hopped from the car and pocketed all items before opening the back and dragging you out. Ralph marched you a little way from the vehicle and stood you roughly in the grassland before growling at you to stay still, and walking back towards the car. He stopped, maybe 10 paces from you and turned back. You blinked, but no emotions crossed your face. That only made him angrier, but Ralph wasn’t sure what he wanted to see out of you – blind rage and anger that would prove to him you really were the monster underneath your guise? Tears streaming down your face and begging him for mercy – as you rightly should be, after everything that had gone down in the past few months, after what you’d done to him for years. Maybe even controlled acceptance of your situation, that it had to end this way and you were alright with that. But there was nothing; not even that shiver inducing silver in your eyes. The silence eschewed and you found yourself looking around, fields and farmland to one side rolling for miles into hills, and a forest in the distance on the other – too far to think that even with your decent sprinting you could get into cover before he put a bullet in your body. Maybe if you weren’t human, but you weren’t about to give Ralph Anderson the satisfaction of seeing your true form. You looked back to him and took a step; “Look, whatever you’re gonna do… Will you just do it already.” The pistol was drawn immediately; “NOT another step.” “You’re really gonna use it this time-!?” You couldn’t help your cold laugh; “I swear to God Ralph Anderson, if you have it in you, it better be a good fucking shot.” If he wasn’t about to keep the venom out of his voice then neither would you. Ralph just shook his head. Paying more attention to his gun than you, he checked everything was in working order; “How could you do this-!? Do you not even think about what you’re doing to the person you’re with-!? How utterly selfish it is to play someone like that?” You flinched, pulling back a few paces – the metal of your restraints cutting into your wrists. What right did he have to ask you something like that? “Look at me, Ralph Anderson.” He didn’t. And this time you weren’t sure if you were crying from anger or because it was hurting you so much and you were just letting it; “RALPH! LOOK AT ME!” You yelled it, “Look me in the eye and tell me that even without the Frankie Peterson case, if I’d have told you what I was then you wouldn’t have reacted in exactly the same way-!” He raised his blue eyes to you, and he didn’t have to answer, the guilt was already there. “Tell me the second I said shapeshifter you wouldn’t have thought me insane – that the second I’d have shifted into someone else to show you, you wouldn’t have cast me out as a freak and wanted to use your damn pistol on me anyway.” “You could have HELPED the case!” “It’s NOT the case-! Stop pretending it’s the case! If you knew what I really was Ralph, you’d run 1000 fucking miles and not look back and you know it. The case!?” You looked around you again and now he could clearly see the tears running, “The case has put me in a field in handcuffs waiting for the man I love to kill me.” “NO. Don’t!” He held his hand up, “Don’t tell me you love me. You gave up that right.” “Then for Godsake Ralph,” you presented your body to him, “Just get it over with because I can’t take this.” your eyes narrowed, flickering again, “But don’t you dare presume to tell me that I can’t love you.” That was decisive enough and he swept his pistol up to aim for your head; yet Ralph knew he was thinking too much. He just wasn’t sure what the right thing to do was – wasn’t killing you just as bad as murdering someone? Sure, he’d killed one of you in Tennessee – but you weren’t an evil murdering entity (as far as he knew). You were you. And what Ralph would have to accept was that even if you were a monster, he couldn’t end your life without killing a part of himself. You watched all of this cross his face, even though his look maintained the utter hatred and disgust for what you really were, and you were soon yelling at him again; “Oh, why don’t you just aim for my heart—!!!!” He gritted his teeth; “Because that won’t work!” Hadn’t your counterpart taken a shot gun and a knife to the chest before he’d crushed its head with a rock? How many bullets would you take? Could he count on it being a one and done? You gave a shrug, wondering if there was just enough love in Ralph left for you to somehow talk him out of it, “For him maybe-! For me who knows-!” You focused acutely on his body, you knew that DNA so well by now; you could feel Ralph Anderson coursing through your veins even when he wasn’t a part of you. His breath was small, but still significant – the safety gave a click, and you realised this was the time to be anything that you could be but scared. Even if your fear was driving you to this. You didn’t really want to die, after all. You hadn’t come all this way in so many lifetimes for a Cherokee City detective to end your life in the middle of nowhere. “If shooting me is so easy for you, do it Ralph. But I should show you what you’ll do to yourself-!” Ralph would have asked you what the hell you meant. Ralph would have asked a million questions that he never got the chance too; because real fear finally flickered across his face, and his body became rooted to the spot, eyes wide. One second he’d been staring at you, defiant even in the face of your own death by his hand – until your eyes illuminated once more; but instead of it just stopping there, your whole body seemed to shimmer out of focus and pixelate. It clearly didn’t take you months to shapeshift into someone else – because now Ralph Anderson was standing face to face with himself. And if it wasn’t for the fact that your eyes were still a gentle silver colour (always the last thing to accurately render), it would have been just like looking in a mirror. Instead Ralph got chills; he’d seen a lot, he would admit to that much, but he’d never seen anything as unnerving as this. He had no choice than to immediately look away from you, hand over his mouth, for fear of throwing up over all this once again. Your eyes narrowed and you tipped your head to follow his movement – he better not think he was getting away with that. Unfortunately, your straining on the cuffs still didn’t cause them to break, and you could already feel the likelihood of leaving Ralph’s DNA in the middle of the field as pretty high, considering how raw your wrists now looked. “Look at me.” Oh, that was much worse. The shudder that coursed through Ralph’s body must have been visible – his voice coming from you; well him, but- It wasn’t him. He shook his head continuously. This was too much. This was way too much and Ralph was suddenly aware of how in over his head he was. He should have brought back-up. He should have listened to his friends. Ralph Anderson suddenly realised just how alone he was out here; and finally comprehended just what was in front of him. “LOOK AT ME!” This time you screamed it, repeatedly, admitting to yourself that there was a certain power that came with being in someone else’s body whilst also facing said person. And it’d never felt so good as this moment. Eventually Ralph Anderson did – but you could feel him when you were like this – and if anything, he was only looking at you because he wanted it to stop. He straightened; the pistol was still very much in play but lowered and hesitant, still you didn’t trust him not to take out your knee at the way he was holding it, and that finger was still hovering on the trigger. “What is wrong with you?” You continued, wondering if he might even listen to himself, “I can tell you what I think is wrong with you, Ralph Anderson, and you can hate me for it all you want – but I think it’s about time someone told you the truth.” You took a step and the pistol raised a little higher; “You have survivors guilt for whatever the hell happened in Tennessee, you feel guilty about everything that happened to Terry; from the way you arrested him to the way he died, guilt that you’ve left the Maitland family in the state it’s in and two girls without a father, guilt for the Peterson family because they’re all gone now – not forgetting the fact you shot Ollie. You think you’ve got off lightly with therapy sessions. For the record, I think he’s a God awful therapist and I get the feeling you don’t hold him in regard much higher than I.” You took a breath, “You feel guilty about everything that happened on this case, and every other fucking person that suffered at the hands of that shapeshifter and everything it ever touched.” You pointed to yourself… or… himself. “But I am NOT it, Ralph!! I didn’t do ANY of that. And you’re still here! You’re still alive and you’re still breathing! And you have friends and people who LOVE you!!!” You shook your head, suddenly a picture-perfect image of the man who’d been on the other side of your cell yesterday; “Face yourself—!! Face the person YOU are-!! How hard can it be!?” You couldn’t place your fingers exactly on the look on has face, it was such a distinct form of fear. No-one in the world should have to face themselves in such a way as this; and you could see it, Ralph Anderson was terrified of you. And you acknowledged that with a twisted smile; “Yeah. You’re damn right! You should be scared of me.” But it wasn’t just you, was it, that’s what you were getting at; “Scared of ME and yourself – at the man you can become!”

By this time Ralph was shaking, his hands were trembling and all he needed was one shot. Perhaps that was the point – was that what you were saying? By ending you, he might finally have peace? Or were you saying that’s what he thought he could have and it wouldn’t be that way? That he should face everything he’d done… that he thought he might have done, even when he hadn’t, and feel better. You didn’t want to die, but if he was going to do it the only thing you wanted right now was Ralph Anderson to be free from everything that haunted him. Even when you’re pointing a gun at my head I still fucking love you… But the shakes became sobs, and even Ralph knew he couldn’t hold that gun steady enough to take a clean shot. His vision blurred as tears ran; “God dammit-!” The pistol left his hands, settling in the grass – and Ralph’s hands went back to his face, trying to wipe those tears away as if you hadn’t been staring at him long enough to see them. Knowing it was over, you shimmered back to yourself, and although you wanted nothing more than to run over to him and hold him close to reassure him – the situation still had you standing calmly in the spot that he had placed you – waiting for Ralph to free you himself. Your detective crossed the grass to you, tears still staining his face, and again you found yourself wanted nothing more than to reach out and hold him close. You weren’t sure you’d like the result of that one – he had pointed a gun to your head and been seconds from pulling the trigger. Twice. In two days. Even though his hands were still trembling as he pulled yours towards him, he managed to unlock the cuffs with ease. “R-Ralph-” “Go. GO-!” He wiped his eyes again, nudging you away from him; resolve completely done. And you had a terrible feeling that Ralph Anderson was more broken than he’d ever been before. You shook your head, closing the gap again and trying to get him to look at you; “You don’t mean that…” You whispered gently, glad that he didn’t put away when you placed your hand delicately on his arm, “…You don’t.” “I do.” If there was ever a time to let him know that no matter your race you were still you, it was now. Maybe he expected the monster to run for its life. The woman who loved him would stay. “Tell me, Ralph Anderson. Tell me you want me to go. Right now. Say those words. That full sentence.” He was still determined not to let his eyes meet your face; “I want… I want….” But his body was still shaking; and his lip quivered. Ralph didn’t finish his sentence before he was sobbing again. “You can ask me to stay. Ralph. We can go back. I know this is going to take time, maybe a lot of time… but we ca-” “No. We can’t.” He shook his head, “I won’t.” Your face fell as he held out his car keys, “Take it. Take the car and go - I don’t care where, anywhere - just not Cherokee City. Not back to me.” “Ralph…” Your disbelief was more than evident, after all, you hadn’t done anything wrong and yet realised you were the one begging for his forgiveness now; “…Why? What about you?!” “Yune can pick me up. Look TAKE them!” He closed your hands around the keys and stepped away from you again, “Leave-! I’m letting you go, God dammit just GO!” “NO!” You shook your head again, “Why won’t you let us fix this? We can make this work! You know we can!” “BECAUSE I DON’T WANT TO BE WITH YOU ANYMORE!” You were forced into a stunned silence, and your eyes couldn’t help but burn again. If you expected anything from him, it wasn’t that. You opened your mouth, but suddenly found it hard to form words. “I DON’T EVER WANT TO EVEN SEE YOU AGAIN-!!! BUT I CAN’T EVEN KILL YOU – I LOVED YOU TOO MUCH TO KILL YOU, AND WHAT DOES THAT MAKE ME!?” Ralph ran his hands through his hair, and suddenly that strange crazy energy he’d given off the evening before was back – but a hell of a lot more erratic. “R…Ra…Ralph.” You weren’t sure it was something you could reason with; and he snapped, just to prove you right; “GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE! FUCKING GO!” His advance on you made you stagger back, and this time the fear that ran across your face was something he’d never seen before. It unnerved him but he couldn’t stop now; “LEAVE! NO ONE IN CHEROKEE CITY WANTS YOU AROUND ANYWAY!” That was just a little too much, there was a knife already through your heart, he didn’t have to twist it. You were staring at a man you’d loved for four years, and you didn’t recognise him at all. ‘Oh my god, who… who is this man?’ The pain was unbearable, and you didn’t want to cry – you couldn’t show him he was upsetting you; but Ralph Anderson probably already knew exactly what he was doing. You shook your head, continuing to walk backwards towards the car – staring at him hard, even if you couldn’t hate him you could still let him know how angry you were. And you’d show him your anger before you let him upset you. ‘Human beings, all the same… I should just have listened…’ Throughout history when weren’t you told to never get involved with one? Lifespan was the least of the worries at the top of any other shapeshifters list; but you’d always been fascinated – and their biggest advocates. They were afraid and they had to drive you to this point, that always made sense – but they were fragile, and emotional, and they could love in ways so unconditional that you’d never seen another species replicate. Yet here you were, and the one you’d wanted to spend the rest of his life with was doing this. And Ralph Anderson was one of the good ones. “You have it wrong, Ralph Anderson. So fucking wrong. You think you don’t know me... but really, it’s me that doesn’t know YOU.” You didn’t turn as you kept backing towards his car, “How can you – YOU – prove my race so fucking right!?” You opened the door, still glaring at him, you wanted to say it, you wanted to tell him that you couldn’t believe you’d ever loved him. But you couldn’t. You couldn’t even bring yourself to pretend you felt that. Because even now when he was breaking your heart – you’d never loved a person as much as you had him. And you knew you didn’t know where you’d go from here – but you knew you’d carry that feeling with you for the rest of your life. There would never be another Ralph Anderson. You stopped looking at him, slamming the door shut, belting yourself in and starting the engine, throwing it into gear. You paused with a deep breath and allowed yourself one last glance at him. Standing there in the middle of a field alone watching you leave. Take a good hard look, Y/N, because you will never see this man again… You peeled your eyes away with an exhale, and closed them, counting to 10 before you pushed your foot to the pedal and the car began moving. But now you were stuck with eerie silence, and the echoes of his voice in your head – the remnants of his DNA in your veins. You knew Ralph would never let you go, but right now you couldn’t handle that. And suddenly realising how alone in the world you were, you had to pull over to the side. Tears were running before you’d even slowed to a stop, you buried your face in your arms against the steering wheel and all you could do was let out huge, shaking sobs. God damn you, Ralph Anderson… Why?! *** 9 Months Later…

You’d watched him for a little while, sitting in that little corner coffee shop. You would call him new in town; only you’d seen him a few times whilst running around. He drew you in in a similar way to the detective whose face you wore a little more often than you’d care to admit. Ralph’s body made you feel safe when you were alone, especially at night – he was familiar, his voice was familiar. Comfortable. Yet, with Ralph you could torture yourself for everything you’d ever done – and you were no longer content with looking at your own form. This man was gone because of you. Still, there was something about the one you were watching that you couldn’t quite put your fingers on… You tapped your stirrer against the top of your cup and bit your lip gently – never a fan of making the same mistake twice. But you knew that aura well, and he wasn’t human. Which was why you were sitting here and you looked like you again. Even though you couldn’t let him go; it was still Ralph’s shirt you were wearing, it was still his car you were driving, it was still him that you cried over every night. That didn’t mean that the man now turning from the counter with his coffee didn’t intrigue you enough to try it; had you found one just like you? His eyes met yours, and that silver flashed. And this time you couldn’t help but smile, using exactly the same tell on him. He wasn’t expecting it, and immediately froze, despite the tiny smile making its way to his lips.

And for the first time since you’d left Ralph Anderson in a middle of nowhere field, you didn’t feel quite so alone…

---

I really appreciate your support for this series 💕 Thank you for your readership! I’m sorry!

#Ralph Anderson #Ben Mendelsohn #Ralph Anderson x Reader #The Outsider #The outsider hbo #HBOs the Outsider #Ralph x Shifter!Reader #Shifter!Reader #Dia #Ever since reading If It Bleeds she certainly looks like Dia and not an AU!Harmony...#I mean I think this is probably worse than either of you were envisioning #UGHH! THIS SONG!!#SHE HAS SO MANY AMAZING SONGS FOR THE BOIS!!!!#IT'S SO CRAZY AND I LOVE IT!#158

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jungle321jungle · 5 years ago

Text

Level Two: Wait, You’re Not An NPC?

The world of Swords of Power and Conquest was one Virgil dove head first into, giving his soul and life to the game. He would play whenever he could, and had even decided he wanted to go into game design. At times he had even dreamt of how wonderful it would be to be inside that world for even a moment- until that world became his reality.

The familiar world he had come to love was now a foreign prison, one with no way out.

A Log Horizon AU. If you don’t know what that is, this is a Show Better Than SAO AU. If you still don’t know, the sides get trapped in a video game.

Ao3 - Masterlist

Taglist: @hells-missing-a-goat @angels-and-dreams @ollyollyoxinfree @gattonero17 @chumo-cookie @dreaming-always @anxiety-ismy-name @mrbubbajones @janustheliar

~~~~

Level Two: Wait, You’re Not An NPC?

Virgil wasn’t sure how long he had stood there. Stood there staring at his surroundings in shock and disbelief. But it was the familiar sound of a message which shocked him out of his stupor. Virgil’s eyes darted around him wondering how to open and answer- or if he was truly insane- when a voice sounded in his mind.

“Tony?”

The voice was one which filled Virgil with relief to the point of tears welling in his eyes, but none of this could be real, right? Right?

“Tony?” It asked again.

Virgil chose to indulge his own delusions as he wiped at his eyes. “Jack?”

“Oh thank God that worked!” The voice came from the other side of- of Virgil’s mind? “What the fuck is going on?”

“You’re asking me? This-” He stopped looking around at the forest and taking in the feeling of the sun streaming through the trees to let its warmth land on his skin, and the sound of animals running round. The sounds which were both so familiar and yet so foriegn. “This is all...”

“I know. One moment I was sitting in my room, the next I’m standing in the Tavern. And I mean, not my character but- but me.”

The unsteadiness in that voice was something Virgil wasn’t sure he had ever heard before. But then again, neither was this situation. “I’m at the fork,” was all he said.

“Then get your ass over here.”

With that the “call” ended and Virgil found himself moving. Leave it to Piggy to calm him down to a state of action with so few words. He wasn’t sure anyone else he had ever known was capable of such a thing.

Virgil moved quickly. He ran down the path following the way he knew but keeping his eyes peeled. Monsters had always been in this area, but when the Tavern had been opened the monsters had become some sort of a rite of passage. If someone couldn’t get past them, then they didn’t deserve to be in the Tavern in the first place. That’s why he and Piggy together had placed the sign post and the teleport spot at the fork. It was a test. One Virgil hoped he could pass.

He gave a hard swallow as he continued on listening carefully to the sounds in the trees, bushes and forest floor. But not daring to stop long enough to wait for something to find him. He was close. The Tavern would be in the coming clearing.

Ralph was waiting for him in the coming clearing.

It was when the breeze ceased that rustling became clear. Virgil’s breath shuddered but he didn’t stop and draw the sword he could feel strapped to his back. Not yet. As it grew closer and it’s footsteps sounded heavy Virgil reached back his fingers closing on his sword hilt- ready. He would wait as long as he could- because he couldn’t afford a fight. He couldn't afford the risks he had thought he had enjoyed.

Virgil could feel the roar of the monster in his bones- in his core. Tyren. A level 28 monster resembling a mix of wolf and cat with claws which hold poison. They were generally weak on their own. But they had a habit of traveling in packs. This wasn’t a fight he could win- not anymore. All he could do was run.

His heart drummed faster in his chest with every step he took. His eyes were burning with unshed tears but he couldn’t let them fall and obscure his view. Not when he could see the Tavern. Not when in a few moments he knew he’d be able to see the sign for the Serpent’s Den. Another roar sounded to his right. Followed by one to his left. And the growling from nearly all sides.

They were going to trap him. To get in front of him and surround him and then take their time ripping him apart. He wanted to puke. He wanted to feel like the walls weren’t closing in. He wanted to be back in his room- hell he’d go back to taking that fucking exam. He’d go back to anything. Anything but this.

He launched himself into the clearing not daring to look back as the roars continued. He sprinted for the back door praying to anyone who would listen that the door would be open. Thankfully his prayers were swiftly answered as the door burst open and Ralph was standing there crossbow in hand. Despite himself Virgil felt his lips curl into a smile as he watched his friend take aim. He ran toward him not bothered with where Ralph was aiming. It could be to his heart for all Virgil cared, it would be better than being torn apart. But he heard the whistle of an arrow flying past his head and the screech of a pierced tyren. He didn’t dare look back.

It was close. Ten steps. Five. Four. Three. Two. One.

Virgil threw himself onto Ralph sending them both flying to the ground and he could only laugh in relief as they both hit the ground, and the door slammed shut behind him.

Virgil closed his eyes letting his tears fall as he listened to the sound of Ralph’s heartbeat. Ralph himself did nothing simply laying there, not saying a word nor pushing Virgil away. But after a moment Virgil pulled himself off and Ralph moved himself into a sitting position. Today’s face scanning Virgil with eyes that screamed worry.

“I’m okay,” Virgil said finally.

“No you’re not,” he disagreed. “No one’s okay right now.”

Virgil only gave a nod as he wiped at his face. When he had he looked back to Simon’s face unsure of what to say or do- but he found his gaze drifting above his head to the screen name which still managed to float about his head, lordofthelies.

“This is too real,” he said finally.

Simon gave a chuckle, “Not the word I’d pick, but yeah. You sure you’re okay?”

“None of them got me,” Virgil assured him, but seeing the disbelief in Simon’s face he continued. “But I never thought I’d be scared of tyrens ever again. Haven’t worried about them since I got past level 45.”

“I’m not sure if alcohol works here,” Simon said standing. His eyes darted around his office before he extended a hand. “Join me in finding out?”

“Hell yes.”

They drank and sat in a comfortable silence and it wasn’t until Virgil could really feel its mind numbing effects that he spoke again. “Customers?”

“None,” Jack replied. “Today was the peace talk remember? I had closed in order to prep for the guilds which had rented out the space for a private space to talk. They had just walked into the forest and me back into my office when...”

Virgil nodded and knocked back the rest of his glass and reached to get himself a refill. “I had been out scrap picking. I had just teleported.”

“Have you been able to reach anyone else?”

Virgil shook his head, “I don’t even know how.”

“To be honest I’m not entirely sure either. I was just thinking that I needed to message you no matter what; and then I heard the sent sound. And then I could hear you.”

“Have you gotten anyone else?”

“A few. Tact, Rolls, Bilder67. But for those who aren’t responding I don’t know if it’s because they’re not logged in or because of something else.”

“They probably don’t know how.”

Piggy’s eyes showed overwhelming disbelief but he changed the subject. “You should get some sleep. I’m going to stay up in case anyone comes.”

“But-”

“You know where my room is.”

Virgil wanted to argue, but the thought of sleep was enticing, so he made his way upstairs to the small little loft and flopped on the bed, drifting off near instantly.

~~~~

“Morning.”

“Morning,” Virgil mumbled back, moving to sit at the bar counter. “No one came then?”

Simon shook his head then he sipped at what must’ve been coffee. “None. And I’ve only heard back from Tact... but I figured out a few things.”

“Like how to cook us breakfast?”

A smirk graced that face as he turned slightly to face Virgil. “I was going to explain that I figured how to use game controls but I mean if you want burned eggs I can do that instead.”

“You can’t cook?” Virgil asked in surprise.

“Not well.”

“And you own a Tavern?”

“A virtual tavern. Why don’t you cook and I’ll explain?”

“Alright,” Virgil shrugged, hopping off his stool and making his way to the kitchen. He paused upon entering it, “How do I even access food? Is it in the cabinets? Or my inventory?”

“Ah, so you do need to know how to play.” Simon smiled.

“Just hand me food.”

Simon shook his head, “You need to learn. Basically focus on what you usually see on the computer screen.”

Virgil raised an eyebrow but when Simon made no move to do anything he closed his eyes picturing his screen in his mind. In the top corner left would be his health. In the bottom right would be the mini map of the area, and his five saved skills. In the bottom left corner would be the inventory he’s wearing, the stats of his clothes and his sword. And in the top right would be the bar for him to access skills or inventory. Picturing it all he took a deep breath and opened his eyes and nearly stepped back in shock to see his screen as pictured.

And he wasn’t exactly sure if he was shocked or relieved to see his HP at 73%.

“Push inventory,” Simon advised.

Virgil nodded and reached up to hit the word inventory and was surprised to see as the boxes appeared. For a few moments he scrolled through what he had, before he found some eggs and he apprehensively moved to tap the icon. Except his arm went into it and his fingers closed around a large egg. He pulled his arm back and the large egg came with it- he needed to take it in two hands to ensure he didn’t drop it.

“Nice,” Simon nodded, moving past him to turn on the stove and setting a pan on the burner. “I want it over easy.”

“You’re getting scrambled.” Virgil replied, setting the egg on the counter and already searching his inventory for some milk. “This thing is too big for me to flip it. It’s scrambled or nothing.”

“Fine.”

They lapsed into silence as Virgil worked, but a question was still burning in his mind. “The Starter Village... it’s probably safest there, isn’t it?”

Jack gave a sigh, “Probably. But it’s also probably swarmed with people thinking the same.”

“Safety in numbers?”

“Chaos in crowds.”

“Avoid people then.”

“That’s not what I mean. I said I talked to Tact right? People are rioting in the Starter Village. And most cities. They’re gonna deplete all their resources. Meanwhile it’s just the two of us here, we’d last longer here. And if someone makes it here? Well, if we’re gonna survive we need strength. People who can make it here are strong. We know that much.”

“We don’t even know if we can make it here anymore,” Virgil pointed out as he put the eggs on a plate. “But I get what you mean. Is Tact coming here?”

Jack gave a shrug as he handed Virgil a fork and poked at the food. “I don’t know. He said he wanted to gather information first, but I doubt he’ll come this way until we figure out what happens when HP reaches zero. And if health potions work.”

“I hope they do.”

“Same. And when people do get here. I think we should lay low for a while. People will probably swarm you for new armor and swords. Maybe we can get more information from listening to the chaos. But it might be a few days before anyone comes.”

Virgil only nodded, not wanting to acknowledge that they could really be here that long.

~~~~

Nine days.

It had been nine days since Virgil found himself trapped in the game he had fallen in love with. And he still found there wasn’t much he could do. One day four he and Jack had been bored and daring enough to step outside the Tavern, to see how their swordsmanship fared against one another before even daring to take steps in the woods.

From it Virgil had learned he could still use basic moves and swing his sword well enough. And he had also realized he could use his saved skills or very basic skills the same way he had accessed his inventory. But now one day nine neither he nor Jack had figured out how to do both simultaneously. And it seemed the few customers and coworkers which had trickled in didn't have a clue either. They had all run for their lives and stuck to the basic skills and had barely managed to make it to the Tavern. But all of them agreed that despite the danger outdoors the Tavern was safer than the cities which were rapidly running out of space, and due to fear of going hunting players were running out of money and had resorted to robbing one another. Virgil could only hope those people wouldn’t come his way.

“Hey! Anthony! Get me another beer!”

Virgil only blinked at the drunk customer (blueskiesareyellow according to his screen name), “Hello sir, would you like to browse my shop?”

“Beer! I want to buy beer!”

“I’m sorry I don’t sell that item. But I do my best to sell all sorts of armor, weapons, and rare items. Would you like to look around?”

The man gave a look of disgust and began shouting at one of the Tavern girls, MannaM, to get him a beer. “Damn NPC. Good for nothing.”

A woman further down the bar gave a laugh, and Virgil recognized her as one of his repeat customers, FuckThisImTheB3st. “Be nice to my man Anthony. He’s got some good stuff to sell!”

Virgil gave him a slight smile, “Hello ma’am, would you like to browse my shop?”

“Not right now,” she dismissed.

“Alright. Please let me know when I can be of service.”

On any other day this would be considered horribly slow. Only six customers, and two workers. Usually they were packed all days of the week with players gossiping information to be sold to the highest bidder. But now all they had was a depleting amount of food and alcohol to be sold. And Virgil wasn’t entirely sure what they would do when they’d run out of food, Simon claimed he was working on it but Virgil doubted he knew either.

The slamming open of the Tavern door was something of a surprise. Then it walked three faces which Virgil recognized. Virgil tried to keep himself calm as one of which locked eyes with him and stormed up the counter and slammed his hands down on it. “I need the owner. Now.”

Virgil gave him a smile, “I am the owner of my shop. Would you like to browse?”

“What? No- I want the guy who owns this place.”

“I do my best to sell all sorts of armor, weapons, and rare items. Would you like to look around?”

“No! I want to speak to the owner.”

“I am the owner, sir. Would you like to browse-“

“Are you even listening to me?”

“He’s an NPC dumbass!” FuckThisImTheB3st shouted.

Tact stepped up next to his companion. “Hello Anthony, May we gain entry to your shop?”

Virgil gave him a smile and moved out from the behind the bar and led the way to the hidden door. He unlocked it and stepped into his shop. Inside Simon stood holding out an armored vest to a player, kittycat=patt, but both looked up as Virgil entered.

“Tact!” Simon smiled. “Good to see you.”

Tact gave a nod as he moved forward leaning on his cane as he did. “I’ve told you many times to call me by name and not that uncreative nickname.”

“And since when do I listen to you?”

“Roman! Remus!” kittycat=patt smiled. “It’s good to see you both! I haven’t seen you both since the Dragon Raid!”

“Patts!” <3getting2Dsat1 cheered running forward to embrace the other girl. The two started talking quickly and suddenly but Virgil was still trying to process that TheSwordTwins- aka the duo with their own YouTube Channel that Virgil had watched every video from were casually standing right in front of him.

“Tony, lock the door?” Simon asked, stopping Virgil from staring. When the door was locked all of them sat down at the table leaving Virgil standing.

“Hey Lies,” royaltyforroyalme or Roman started. “Can you tell your NPC to stop staring and leave?”

Simon paused before he shook his head, “He stays. Anyway Tact, why are we all here?”

“My name is Logan,” He corrected instantly. “I am a tactician for the pay, it’s not who I am. But as for why we all are here I have two pieces of information to share. And lucky you for you I won’t charge a fee.”

“How generous.”

“The first is I have seen first hand that just as when this game was purely game, revival is possible.”

“You’ve seen it?” kittycat=patt blurted.

Logan gave a nod, “I have. I had posted myself outside of the East Hospital and was awaiting to see if anyone revived. And someone had. Two evenings ago I was about to head back to the inn where I was staying when the tell tale glow of the building started and a player appeared in front of it proclaiming and crying in relief at still being alive. I kept my post until this morning and confirmed this was not a fluke by watching it happen multiple times and I also interviewed each of the revived players. Thus I can conclude that when a player's HP reaches zero they come back to life as a character should. But at the same time it doesn’t seem to be a pleasant experience.”

“I think that’s the best thing I've heard since this started,” Piggy commented, relaxing in his chair. “But what’s the second piece of information?”

“I have a theory- or perhaps hopeful thoughts on how to get out of here.”

“What is it?” Virgil blurted moving closer.

“Ah, is that what it takes to get you to break character Anthony?” Logan asked, amused.

“Answer the question.”

Logan nodded. “The main quest. This game was designed so that it would update itself when the main quest was completed. Perhaps a fix to the servers can free us. That’s why I asked you all here. Lies is not only a legendary holder, but one of the biggest names in the information trade. Roman and Remus each hold one as well, and when I called both they told me Patton was as well. And you Anthony are certainly high enough level to aid us.”

“That’s a gamble.”

“It is,” Logan acknowledged. “But it is better than simply sitting and waiting for rescue?”

“Wait,” Roman cut in. “You’re not an NPC?”

Virgil blinked, “No. I’m not.”

“Then why?”

“People are more likely to talk about things when they don't know they’re being listened to,” Piggy commented. “And now since the joke wasn’t as funny as I intended, Tony come sit.”

“I can’t go get a chair, everyone out there doesn't know I’m not an NPC.”

He patted his lap, “Sit.”

“Fuck off Piggy.”

“Am I not good enough to sit on?”

Virgil resisted the urge to punch him in the face as he looked back to Logan. “If the game reboots if the quest is cleared, wouldn’t that just kill us?”

“As I confirmed there is no death as we know it in this world, that is unlikely,” Logan replied.

“But how are you going to do it? We’re still missing five swords. Not to mention the main quest is literally impossible. That’s why no one has done it!”

“There was no motivation to. Before the goal of most players was to simply enjoy the game for all about its main quest. We simply need to shift focus.”

Virgil shook his head, “Ralph tell him it’s impossible.”

Ralph paused in thought before he sighed. “We don’t have any better ideas at the moment. And at least it’s something.”

“What if we only have a limited number of lives?” Virgil tried.

“There’s only one way to find out!” Remus cheered. “Roman! Stab me through the boob!”

Roman paid his brother no mind, “He does have a point. We don’t know if our luck will run out.”

“I think we should go for the swords,” kittycat=patt tossed in. “If it’s possible we can get out quicker shouldn’t we?”

“Do we know where the missing swords are?”

At that Logan turned to Jack, “What do you know?”

Jack gave a frown and his eyes flickered to Virgil before he crossed his arms over his chest. “Before we talk about that we should talk about logistics.”

“What's there to talk about?” Roman frowned. “Either you have the information or you don’t.”

“The game ends when one person collects all ten legendary swords. Shouldn’t we discuss who will be doing the holding of these swords? Because quite frankly I don’t know anyone sitting here well enough to believe you won’t steal everything and sell it.”

“I want to go home, not make money!” kittycats=patt said quickly.

Logan gave a nod, “We both know I have gold to spare.”

“I want to get back to my life,” Roman agreed.

“How much money do you think you’re all worth?” Remus asked.

“Remus.”

“I’m kidding Ro! Kidding! I wanna get back too... mostly. I mean can you blame me? This is cool as hell.”

“I suggest we each hold onto our own swords until the end,” Logan stated, putting things back on track. “And as for acquiring more, I suggest the person who claims it carries it. And once we have them all between us we figure out how to clear the game itself. Until then we have no choice but to trust one another.”

For some reason Virgil wasn’t sure he liked that idea.

“We’re going to need to practice fighting,” Virgil pointed out. “Jack we could leave the Tavern to MannaM and head to a low level area to grind and figure it out.”

Jack gave a nod of thought, “We certainly could.”

“Have any of you figured out how to use the skills?” kittycats=patt asked. “I can use the easy ones but I can’t do any combinations.”

“I can,” Remus tossed in. “You just gotta move and it kind of happens.”

“I’ll need you to be a bit more descriptive,” Logan frowned.

Remus gave a shrug and pulled at the mustache on her face. “They just happened. Like muscle memory or something.”

“Hm, then training will need to proceed. Perhaps you can tell us what it is we will need to know about the other locations when we have?”

“No, I’ll tell you here,” Jack sighed. “I know this is the most secure spot. I can only hope your lips are sealed just as tightly.”

Virgil wanted to disapprove, but he knew Simon was right. “Well maybe first we should start with what swords you all have and then Simon and I can tell you everything we know?”

There was a pause as eyes looked round the table before Logan spoke, “I hold the Sword of Time.”

“I have the Sword of Ice and Water,” Patts announced.

“Sword of Sound,” Remus put in.

“Wind,” Roman said quickly.

“Faces,” Simon finished. “As for the others, I know that two elemental swords are still fully unknown, some rumors say they are in circulation others say they are yet to be claimed. I personally believe there’s truth to both sides. One of them, likely the Sword of Stone, is in circulation, given the Sword of Flame is pretty distinct. Someone would know if it was used. The Swords of Darkness and Light are also both unclaimed. Tony has a theory on those. And then the Sword of Stars is in circulation. Last I knew it was in the hands of a guild, so Mr. Guild Hopper might know something.”

Roman crossed his arms, “I don’t.”

Simon didn’t seem convinced but he let it slide. “Tony, your theory?”

Virgil gave a sigh, “The location of the Sword of Darkness isn’t exactly a secret. But despite that no one has been able to get it given the pitch blackness, and the boss monster. According to the lore to the game, the sword belonged to a fallen angel who tried to attack the heavens. When he lost and died the sword created the barrier to protect him. Meanwhile the Sword of Light was considered tainted and needed to be purified. But my theory is this, that given the true quest of the game is to unite all the swords, that the Sword of Light and the Sword of Flame must both be used to retrieve The Sword of Darkness.”

“I don’t understand,” Logan frowned. “I understand wanting to use the Sword of Light but why Flame? It’s said that any lights are automatically extinguished within the dark.”

“Yes, but there’s multiple reports about the boss monster inside. Some seem to think it’s the fallen angel himself revived, some say it’s a dragon, some think both. But all seem to agree that they were certainly burned inside the dark. Now perhaps the Sword of Ice and Water could put it out. But if the Sword of Flame is used it could theoretically form a protective shield of flames to absorb those thrown at us. Or something to that effect.”

Logan paused and Virgil could see the wheels turning behind those glasses, the Tactician's mind working. “Then after training we’d need to go after the remaining sphinxes and gain clues about the Swords of Stars, Light, along the way.”

“I can continue to check in with my network,” Simon promised. “But we need to be careful about people knowing we’re going after the swords.”

Virgil gave a nod before a thought occurred to him, “Eric please do not tell R3M333. He’s not subtle.”

“He’s not that bad. He’s good at collecting information, just not keeping it...”

“Please Eric.”

“Fine.”

“Real quickly,” Roman put in. “What should I call you? Because you’re not-NPC has called you like ten different names.”

Eric blinked as if the thought hadn’t occurred to him, “Tony is a bit of a nerd. See my screen name is lordofthelies. But he read it first as lord of the flies, and ever since he calls me by the name of different characters from the book. But you guys can call me whatever, Lies, Lord, or-”

“Sexy?” Remus asked.

Eric gave an awkward smile, “I was going to say my middle name is Dante. You can me that or Dee. Trapped in a game or not, I rather not give you my first name.”

“Pleasure to meet you Dee!” kittycats=patt smiled. “I’m Patton! Call me that or Patt! But before we leave, can I buy some armor off of you too? As much as I love this outfit it’s not good for defense.”

Virgil paused looking over Patt’s oversized skirt and heels silently wondering how she had managed to make it to the Tavern in the first place. “Yeah feel free to look around my shop.”

~~~~

“You think this is all a terrible idea don’t you?”

Virgil looked up from where he was sitting on Dee’s bed and gave a slight nod, “I don’t trust them. And yet we just told them everything, Dee.”

“Not everything.��

“Oh?”

Dee raised an eyebrow as he sat beside Virgil on the bed, “I know you lied about your theory. That’s not it at all.”

Virgil gave a shrug, “You don’t know that.”

“Yes I do. I may not have heard your theory before but I know that’s not it. I just know you’re a good liar. But I also won’t ask you to tell me what it is.”

Virgil looked into his eyes- those actual eyes. The way Dee has designed the character before he had earned his legendary sword. “Then what are you asking of me?”

“I ask that you don’t trust anyone.”

“I take it that includes you?”

“I’m number one on that list.”

Virgil gave a yawn as he laid back on the bed, “Then make sure I’m number one in yours.”

~~~~

Level One - Level Two - Level Three

#virgil sanders #janus sanders #logan sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #remus sanders #video games #videogame au #sao au #anxceit will come #so will logince and intrulogical #idk how to tag this ill figure it out #the bois get swords i dont make the rules

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lopsided-whiskey-grin · 4 years ago

Text

Wild Violets and Unicorn Stickers

This is my contribution to the RBB put on by @android-whump-big-bang! This was the first Big Bang I have ever participated in and it was really fun to craft a story around a beautiful piece of artwork! I hope you enjoy reading Ralph’s story as much as I enjoyed writing it <3

WR600, register your name.

I see a man standing before me. And beside him are a woman and a young girl. A family. They are all smiling and it makes me smile. “Ralph,” the man says.

“My name is Ralph,” I reply. It’s a good name and I think it suits me.

The family brings me to their home. It is a beautiful farmhouse. Situated on a large plot of land down a long dirt road, it is much larger than the others we drove past when we left the city. Here there is a sprawling green lawn surrounding the house, with lush flowerbeds blooming in a riot of different colors bordering the wrap-around porch. I also glimpse a greenhouse as we pull around to where the garage is located in the back. I have a job to do here and I know exactly how to do it. I am eager to start.

The father of the family, who introduced himself as Garrett, gives me a tour of the property while his wife Olivia takes their daughter Gracie inside the house for lunch. Garrett instructs me on how he prefers the lawn to be maintained and how short to prune the hedges. Then he shows me where the various gardening tools and lawn mower are stored in a shed beside the garage; I carefully catalog everything on my hard drive, making quick notes as we go to check the pH level of the soil and the area’s water table.

Before he is done with our tour, Garrett shows me the greenhouse. To say that I am impressed would be a vast understatement. Late afternoon sunlight streams through the glass walls and roof, saturating the lush greenery surrounding me in a golden glow. There's rows of ripening vegetables running down the middle - tomatoes, squash, zucchini and others - and lining the sides are various herbs, a handful of flowering orchids and roses, some pastel-toned succulents, and fragrant lavender.

I glance at Garrett and smile. "It's beautiful."

Garrett beams with pride. "Thank you," he says. "I inherited this place nine months ago from my grandfather. He used to grow corn out here but his land got sold off little by little until just the farmhouse and the greenhouse were left. I remember spending the summers here as a kid. It was in pretty bad shape when we moved in, but I've been putting a lot of work into fixing it up as best I can. This greenhouse is kind of my way of keeping my grandfather's memory alive."

"Your hard work definitely shows. I'm happy to help you maintain it."

Garrett nods warmly. "I'm not normally one to ask for help and I never pictured myself owning an android, but the upkeep on it all is getting to be a little much and I wanted to be able to spend more time with my family. I'm glad to have you here."

“I’m ready to begin whenever you are,” I say with a nod of my own.

My first week at the farmhouse goes fast. I perform my duties efficiently and with care. Garrett lends a hand occasionally but for the most part he leaves me to my work. Olivia and Gracie are very nice to me and we talk sometimes when I come inside to wash my hands in the kitchen at day's end. Gracie especially loves telling me about what new things she learned at school. It feels nice to be included.

Another week passes much the same as the first. I am more observant, though, of how this little family unit operates. It's fascinating to see the intricacies of their interactions when I catch glimpses of them together during my daily duties. I see Garrett push Gracie on the tire swing in the backyard one morning before the school bus comes, then one evening at dusk I see Olivia braiding Gracie's hair on the front porch while Garrett sweeps the steps. And on one hot afternoon, I see Olivia bring Garrett a glass of lemonade and give him a kiss on his cheek while he is helping me pull weeds. I am captivated. But I find my favorite thing to see is the three of them having dinner together. I don't sit and stare but sometimes in the evening when I'm putting the hose or lawnmower away and the summer sun is sinking low and the gloaming fades into night I can see them through the back window that looks into the dining room. They sit at the table together and it looks so pure and real the way they smile and talk and laugh. It makes me want to be a part of what they have in an intense and confusing way that makes my chest ache.

As the days go on, I know very well what this family means to each other. They care for one another. They love one another. I wonder if it is something I will ever truly experience or even understand. I desperately want to.

By the time a month rolls around, though, I notice that they begin to pull me in, little by little, and it surprises me. Now, when I go into the kitchen to wash my hands at the end of the day, Gracie almost always asks me to sit at the table and color with her while Olivia prepares dinner. And Garrett once let me help cook burgers on the grill for a backyard barbecue and he did not get mad at me when I accidentally burned two of them. Garrett has even made me a small room in the garage with a bed and a nightstand even though I technically don’t have to sleep. They treat me as more than an android and it’s a strange revelation to process. I feel like I am becoming a part of their family. And I never want to be apart from them.

Summer slowly surrenders to the start of autumn in a gradual shift from sweltering days to rainy ones and from vibrant greens to striking reds and yellows. Gracie tells me it is her favorite season. The fall harvest soon comes and everyone decides to pitch in to help gather the ripened pumpkins, zucchini, squash, turnips, and carrots. It is an overcast day that threatens showers later in the afternoon so Garrett says he wants to get an early start. I meet the family in the greenhouse just after they eat breakfast. They are dressed in vests and boots and matching flannel shirts and my chest gets tight and I don’t know why.

With so much help we get the job done pretty quickly. Olivia is happy with the amount of zucchini we grew and is excited to make enough zucchini bread to give to all the neighbors. Gracie, wiping the dirt from her hands on her jeans, sticks out her tongue at the mention of it and Garrett shakes his head and laughs. But then Gracie grins wide when Olivia says she'll make a special batch of pumpkin bread just for her. They all look so happy in this moment and I want to remember it forever.

After loading up our harvest into wooden crates, the family heads inside to clean up and warm themselves with some hot cocoa. Since we got done earlier than I expected I have time to trim the hedges out front before the rain starts. I grab the shears and make my way to the front yard. When I am almost finished with my task it starts sprinkling a little. The sky is darkening the late afternoon sky with the impending storm. I go a little faster, not minding being rained on but not wanting Garrett’s gardening tool to become rusted in the drizzling weather.

Soon my hair becomes so wet with rain I have to flick the dripping strands out of my eyes so I can see what I am doing. I am nearly done, but just as I am reaching to prune the last few branches away, a bright flash of light instantly followed by a loud crack of thunder booms above me.

The utter unexpectedness of it startles me and I flinch. The hand holding the shears jerks toward my outstretched arm and before I can react the sharp blades slice my forearm. It’s not a long gash but it looks like a deep one. I'm so stunned I am not even able to process what precise bio-components are compromised. I stare in shock as blue blood wells from the wound almost immediately. It tracks down my arm in thick rivulets mixing with the rain that is now coming down steadily.

The sound of the front door opening draws me from the injury in a dazed sort of way. I look up slowly to see Garrett suddenly standing there.

“You okay, Ralph? That lightning was pretty close.” Concern knits his brows together when his gaze drops to my arm. “Holy shit.”

Tears form at the corners of my eyes, catching me off guard. “I- I’m sorry — ,” I begin but Garrett cuts me off.

“Come inside.” He rushes down the porch steps to where I’m standing in the rain. The garden shears are still gripped tightly in my hand and Garrett has to tug them from my grasp to get me to let go. He tosses them aside onto the wet grass and it surprises me.

I protest weakly. "The shears…"

"I don't care about those," he says, guiding me gingerly up the stairs to the door. He is genuinely worried about me.

Pain suddenly registers like a hot flash then dims to a dull throb and I cradle my arm to my chest. Androids don't feel pain in the sense that humans do, I know that, but it's still a sharp perception of a malfunction. My body recognizes there is something wrong and the delicate receptors that were severed with the laceration pulse with a warning that hurts. I hold my forearm a little closer and follow Garrett inside the house.

“Olivia, I need some help here,” Garrett calls as we come to the kitchen.

Olivia turns from the counter where she is putting mugs into the dishwasher. When she sees me her eyes go wide and she rushes toward us. “Oh my god, Ralph! What happened? Are you okay?”

“I cut myself. It was an accident.”

Garrett goes to the sink while Olivia stays with me. She reaches her hand up and gently pulls my arm away from my chest. I grimace but allow her to look at it. Her mouth turns down into a pout as she examines the injury. Garrett comes back with a towel and a small first aid kit and they both lead me to sit at the kitchen table.

The bleeding has mostly stopped and is now only oozing a little. Olivia kneels down and tenderly wipes the residual blue from my skin and I hold as still as possible while she cleans the wound. Garrett stands beside me with his hand on my shoulder, watching as Olivia wraps a long bandage around my arm.

“How are you feeling? Is that better?” Olivia looks up at me from where she is kneeling on the kitchen tiles.

I give a weak nod. The pain is thankfully fading somewhat and I can now internally assess the damage with a diagnostic check. “I’ll need some repairs, but I can still bend my fingers and my wrist.” I attempt the move to show them but a sharp twinge limits the mobility.

Garrett gives my shoulder a little squeeze. “Hey there, just take it easy for now, okay? As long as it’s not hurting you, let's worry about the repairs tomorrow. I don’t want you moving it unless it’s absolutely necessary.”

I glance up at him, confused. “But I still have work to do outside…”

Olivia shakes her head and stands. “Not for the rest of the day, you don’t. I’m going to get you some clean clothes to wear while I throw those in the wash.”

Looking down at my Cyberlife issued shirt, I see that there is a mess of blue blood smeared across it. I begin to try to tell her that it will evaporate in a few hours but she won’t have it. She orders me upstairs to the laundry room in a way that is both soft and yet brooking no argument and I do as I am told.

This is a level of the house I have not been to before; I haven’t needed to. I can’t help but stare as I walk down the hallway at this little slice of domesticity. Bedrooms, a bathroom, an office, family pictures on the wall. I take it all in.

Olivia stops at the small hallway accordion doors that hide the washer and dryer and she opens them up. She helps me shimmy out of my shirt, careful not to jostle my arm too much. Then she flips the shirt this way and that, looking for a tag with washing instructions. Upon not finding any, she shrugs and tosses it into the washer and starts the cycle.

“I think Garrett might have a sweater in here that will fit you,” she says and digs through a hamper with big block letters saying ‘clean’ across it beside the dryer. Finding one, she raises it up, victorious. “Ha!” It’s a grey hoodie with an outline of a shark on it. We both grin.

Olivia helps me into the sweater. It’s a little big on me but it is very soft and comfortable and it smells like a field of wildflowers from the detergent she uses. The terrifying memory of my injury is fading further and further to the background with each passing minute with the care of this family.

We start back down the hallway. Gracie suddenly appears from one of the doorways, rubbing her eyes, her hair a sleep-mussed tangle. “Mommy?”

Olivia bends down to smooth down her hair and peck a kiss to her cheek. “Did you have a good nap?” She glances back at me over her shoulder with a smile. “This kid could sleep through anything, I swear.”

“What happened?” Gracie asks.

“There was some thunder and lightning. You didn’t hear it?”

Gracie shakes her head then looks at me. “Hi, Ralph.” Her eyes drop to my arm. I didn’t realize I had been cradling it to my chest again -- A subconscious instinct to keep it immobile, I suppose. “Did you get hurt?”

“Yes, but it's starting to feel better now,” I reply.

Olivia straightens back up. “We’re going to get him all fixed up tomorrow. Until then we’re going to take care of him, okay?”

Gracie’s small, worried face brightens up. “I’m going to get my stickers and coloring books! That always makes me feel better when I get sick!” And with that she dashes off back into her bedroom.

Olivia chuckles and we head downstairs. In the living room, Garrett has started the fireplace going with a warm, inviting blaze. He puts a hockey game on the TV and welcomes me to sit on the couch, so I do. Olivia sits beside him with a bowl of popcorn and a blanket emblazoned with the Crimson Shark logo. Gracie soon comes bounding downstairs, her arms full of coloring books, her markers, and box of beads. She sits on the floor next to me and sets up her impromptu art station at the coffee table.

The rain has really started up now, accompanied by occasional gusts of wind that batter the side of the house. But in the cozy room with the roar of the fire, Garrett and Olivia cheering for their favorite hockey team, and Gracie busy digging through her beads, it fades to the background. I find I’m smiling and can’t seem to stop. I catalog this moment on my memory drive so that I hopefully never lose it.

Suddenly, Gracie turns toward me with a sheet of sparkly unicorn stickers. She has a very serious expression on her face. “Can I put some of these where you were hurt? It will help you feel better, I promise.”

“Yes, please.” I pull up the sleeve on my sweater to look at the gauze on my arm. There’s only a little blue that has soaked through and the pain is almost nonexistent now. I still can’t move my fingers very much though.

Soon my bandage is covered in a smattering of unicorns that catch the light from the fire in a mesmerizing way. Gracie then grabs a green marker for her finishing touches. I watch as she writes get well soon down one side and draws scrolling vines and flowers on the other. I am filled with such a sense of belonging I can barely function.

During one of the intermissions in the hockey game, Garrett gets up to make more popcorn. He asks me how I’m doing.

I glance down at my colorfully decorated arm and smile. “Much better,” I say, my voice cracking.

As the stormy late afternoon gives way to a cool autumn evening, the hockey game ends, and the fire begins to die down, Garrett and Olivia go to the kitchen to start dinner. I stand up from the couch, ready to head back to my room in the garage.

Gracie tugs at my sweater and I stop. “I made this for you.” She holds up a bracelet made from her rainbow pony beads. Some of the beads have letters. It spells out best friends.

“For me?” No one has ever made anything like this for me before.

“Yup! And I have one too!” She shows me how the two bracelets match then puts the one she made me on my wrist and the other on her own. She is very proud of her craftsmanship.

“I’ll keep it with me always” I promise her.

Pleased, she skips to the kitchen. I follow, making my way to the back door next to the dining room that leads to the yard. Olivia sees me about to head out and tells me to hold on just a moment because my shirt is just getting done from the dryer. She gets it from the laundry room and presents it, newly cleaned and neatly folded.

“We can get you changed back into your uniform tomorrow before we send for your repair parts,” she says. “You can keep the sweater for now.”

Garrett looks over from the stove where he is stirring something in a pot and says, “I’ll call Cyberlife first thing in the morning and you’ll be good as new. Don’t worry about any chores until you’re all fixed up though, okay? I don’t want you hurting yourself anymore.” He smiles warmly and I nod and return the smile.

After saying goodnight to everyone, I walk out of the house to the cool backyard. The storm has passed and the moon shines down on me in a soft silver glow from the now cloudless sky. I look at my bracelet in the muted light and turn it round and round my wrist. I have never had a best friend before, much less a family, and now truly feel I have both.

Sitting on my bed in my little room in the garage, I stare at my bracelet and my bandaged arm, thinking about the events of the day with a fondness I have never known. I hope tomorrow brings more of the same.

The morning dawns grey and dreary with not even enough sun poking through the clouds to brighten the fiery autumn colors of the falling leaves. I do as Garrett told me the night before and I do not do any gardening. Besides, with the damage, my arm is still not functional enough to move it much. I am able to shimmy out of the hoodie Olivia gave me and slide into my uniform shirt, though. It is quite the task, but I manage.

I fold the sweater and start bringing it to the house when I see a Cyberlife van pulling up in the driveway. I know it's because Garrett called them so they can repair me, but the sight of it makes me feel uneasy in a way I can't explain.

I continue toward the house, my stride a little slower than when I left the garage. Before I get to the backdoor Garrett is coming out to meet me.

“Ralph, Cyberlife is here. They’re going to get you all back in working order. Let’s head over to the van, okay?”

I nod and hand him the sweater then head around the side of the house to where the van is parked. Garrett follows along beside me. The door on the side opens when we stop next to it. A man steps out wearing an official Cyberlife uniform and a baseball cap. Inside the van I can see various tools and supplies on a workbench as well as a few monitor screens.

“Hi, I’m Ben. Mr. Baker?”

“Yup, that’s me,” Garrett replies. The two shake hands.

“And this is your WR600 unit?” Ben turns his attention to me.

Garrett and I both nod. “I’m Ralph.” I find I’m fidgeting with the beaded bracelet on my wrist and I force my arms down to my sides.

“Let’s take a look at the damaged component and I’ll see what I can do.” Ben’s voice is warm and reassuring.

I present my arm with the bandage and sparkly unicorn stickers. Ben looks a little surprised and chuckles. “Can I take this off?”

I hesitate for a moment, but then give him the go ahead and he unwraps the bandage carefully. He examines the wound with a gentle touch then scans it with some kind of hand-held device. After looking at the readout on the device’s screen he glances up and scratches his chin. He looks perplexed. He rummages around in the van for a minute then turns back around.

“I’m not sure I have the parts on hand to repair him here.”

“Well, what does that mean?” Garrett asks. I’m fidgeting with the bracelet again.

“I’ll have to take him into town to the central warehouse hub we have there.” Ben shrugs. “It looks like he’ll need a full below-the-elbow swap.”

“Garrett, I am so sorry. This is all my fault.”

“It’s going to be okay, Ralph. It was just an accident.” He pats my shoulder. “How long do you think he’ll be gone, Ben?”

“Shouldn’t take more than a day or two, depending on how many others are scheduled for repairs ahead of him.”

Garrett and Ben finalize the necessary paperwork. I stand awkwardly, not sure how to feel about what is happening. This has been my first and only home for the past six months. I have found a family here. And although I know I’ll only be gone a couple days, like Ben says, I am nervous about leaving.

“I’ll go get Gracie. I know she’ll want to say goodbye.” Garrett trots off to the house and I watch him go, glad that at least I’ll be able to do that.

Ben closes up his van then hops in the front seat. Just a few short seconds later, Gracie and Olivia come out to see me. Gracie runs right up to me and hugs me around my waist, knocking me back a step. My chest does that thing again where it aches in the middle.

“Ralph, you’re leaving?”

I hug her back, tentatively, not sure if I’m doing it right. “Only for a few days. I’ll be back soon,” I say, and I hope it’s the truth.

Gracie sighs and steps back. She lifts up her arm and shakes her bracelet. I smile and shake mine. Olivia puts her hand on Gracie’s back. “We’ll see him again in no time.”

And with that, I get in the van and head to the city with Ben. The already dreary day darkens even more the closer we get and I can’t tell if it’s my mood or if it’s because another storm is brewing.

Ben pulls the van into the central warehouse hub he had mentioned earlier. It’s surrounded by a forest of skyscrapers, some so tall the tops are hidden by slate colored clouds. Inside, I am directed to a big room full of various other androids. Some are milling around aimlessly, others are sitting in chairs, and still others are sitting on the floor. Most of them look like they are in a lot worse shape than me and my heart sinks. I hope that the minimal severity of my injury will not put me at the end of the list; I don’t want to be here any longer than necessary. I want to go home.

I sit in an empty chair in a corner away from everyone and look at my bracelet. After a while I realize I have lost track of time. How long have I been here? My internal clock registers that it has been twelve hours and nine minutes since I left the farmhouse. I am beginning to lose hope that I will be going back in only a day or two.

Another hour later, someone finally calls my name and I walk to a door at the front of the room. A woman is standing there with a holo-board and I instinctively slip my bracelet from my wrist and tuck it away into my pocket. I don’t want anything happening to it. After registering my name and serial number the woman leads me back to another holding area. This one is larger, with cots and chairs and more injured androids wandering around.

“How much longer do you think it will be?” I ask the woman. She shrugs, clearly not caring one way or another. My shoulders droop and I go to find a place to sit.

Time drags on and after being here for two days I move to an empty cot at the back of the room and lay on my side. What is taking so long? I miss Gracie and Olivia and Garrett so much it hurts. I wonder if they miss me. I wonder if they are worried about me. I curl up and look at my bracelet for probably the hundredth time since I've been here.

A week passes. My name is finally called. I sit up in a daze, slipping Gracie’s best friends token back into my pocket, and shuffle to the door. I am led to a workshop area then seated on a medical type chair that is reclined next to a workbench. There is an armrest extended out to the side of the chair. Soon after, an MC500 model android wearing a black apron comes and sits on a rolling chair beside me.

“Please present the defective limb.”

I do as I am asked and set my arm down on the table under a work light. “Will I be able to go home after this?”

The MC500 does not answer me. Instead he says, “I am going to place you on standby mode while I replace this part for a new one.”

And with that my world goes dark.

When I wake up, the first thing I notice is my arm — brand new and fully functional. I move my fingers and wrist and have full range of motion again. I cannot wait to get back into the greenhouse to pull up the last of the season’s harvest.

But then I look up and remember I am not at home. A welling of sadness fills me as I see my surroundings. I am in a different room than all the ones before; it appears to be a sort of recovery room. There aren’t many other androids here with me, but there is an open door that leads to a small office. A man is sitting at the desk, typing away on a computer.

I quickly get up, walk to him, and stand in the doorway. He glances up at me briefly before going back to his work.

“It appears I am repaired,” I say with a timid smile. “I am ready to go back to work now at the Baker’s farmhouse.”

The man looks at me again and sighs. “Serial number?”

I tell him.

“Says here you’re to report to the Lafayette Central Park management building.”

I frown. “No, that’s not right. I belong with Garrett and Olivia Baker.” I am beginning to panic.

The man shakes his head. “The info is right here, buddy. Lafayette. There’s been a rash of gardening droids going missing all around town so they probably reassigned you.”

“No, that is not right! ” I raise my voice. It’s the first time I have done that. A software instability warning flashes across my CPU, but I ignore it. “I belong to a family, not the city parks department!”

The man is taken aback then he narrows his eyes and leans toward me. “I don’t get paid enough to deal with this bullshit. It says right here, okay? I don’t make the rules, I just read out what gets sent to me. All I know is, if you aren’t on the transport that takes you to your assignment in one hour, you’ll be decommissioned.”

Dread, heavy and awful, settles deep in my stomach. “W-what?” The word barely squeaks past my lips.

The man points to a closed entryway at the opposite side of the room that says ‘loading dock’ on it. “The transport is through that door. If you aren’t on it within the hour, you’ll wish you were.”

“But what about my family?”

“They’ll probably get reimbursed by the city or something. I don’t know, pal. Sorry.” He sits back in his chair and closes the door in my face.

My hand immediately goes into my pocket and I squeeze my bracelet almost as hard as I can. I don’t know what else to do. I don’t know how to fix this situation. I’m lost, alone, and terrified.

Turning away from the door, I face the loading dock entry. If I get on the transport will my family come looking for me? How will they even know where to find me? What if I make a run for it? Could I make it back to the safety of my home? If I am caught I know I will be shut down permanently — That terrifying thought alone forces my feet to start trudging toward my fate.

I am halfway across the room. Then three-quarters. Then I stop. I know if I go through those doors everything will change.

But maybe it already has.

I look down at my arm. An unbearable wave of sadness pummels me. This happened because of me. This was all my fault. Will Gracie ever forgive me? I told her I would be back soon. Tears start tracking down my cheeks before I can blink them back. I scrub them away with the heels of my hands.

With no other choice, I go through the loading dock doors and get on my assigned transport.

I have been in Lafayette Central Park for two weeks now and I have been miserable every single second. The management building is more of a small groundskeeper hut where they store the lawn maintenance tools and it is where I am told to stay after hours when the park closes. It’s not even close to the cozy room Garrett built for me in the garage.

The first few days here I cried every night. But when it really hit me that I would most likely not be going back home, my heartache was overtaken by anger. I should not be here. There is no joy or sense of belonging for me here. I rake leaves, I empty the park trash, and no one ever talks to me or asks me how I am. I don’t get to watch things grow or harvest the fruit of my labor with the people I love.

I have tried leaving a handful of times but I don’t get very far. My fear of being caught and shut down stops me in my tracks before I hardly get a block away from the park. And I wouldn’t even know how to get back to the farmhouse if I had the courage to commit to an escape plan. With each failed attempt I become more sullen and withdrawn. I miss my family.

One night I am sitting on the concrete floor in the management building with my back leaned up against the wall and my knees drawn to my chest. I am staring at my bracelet, spinning it slowly through my fingers like a rosary. I pull it out less and less these days. I know if I was braver I could have gone back home by now. But at the same time I wonder why haven’t they come looking for me?

Before I can wallow much more in my own self-pity I hear a noise outside. There have been racoons getting into the trash cans lately, but it didn’t quite sound like that. I stand quickly, tucking my bracelet into my pocket, and peer out a small window in the door. A shadow moves past too fast for me to make out. A moment later it is followed by two more. The glow from a near-by street light illuminates the corner of one of the shadows just for a second, but I can see now what it is. Teenagers wearing dark clothes, carrying what looks like spray paint. This is probably the same group that has been vandalizing the park since I got here. I have had to clean up their messes, repair the benches they have set on fire, and scrub off the tags they have left behind more times than I want to count. And now I’ll finally catch them in the act.

Grabbing a heavy-duty flashlight from a shelf, I stomp out the door in the direction the shadows went. My patience has worn down while my software stability has risen. I have had enough.

With the amount of noise they make, it is easy to find them, even in dark pre-dawn hours. There are three teenage boys huddled around a trash can near the playground, laughing maliciously. I click my flashlight on, thinking it will just frighten them away and I can chase them off.

“This park is closed! It's after hours!” I shout, trying to sound imposing.

The boys turn around and I see right away that they are bigger and older than I first thought. A bright flare of alarm pulses through me. One is grasping a handheld electric blow torch and grinning menacingly. There is no doubt they were about to light the trashcan on fire… but now their attention is solely on me.

They stare at me in the pale beam of my flashlight, waiting to pounce on the slightest misstep. I can’t back down now. I take one shaky step forward. “You are trespassing. I am ordering you to leave now.”

“We’re not going anywhere, gearbox.” A voice comes up behind me, startling me so badly I almost drop my flashlight. Spinning on my heel, I try to face the person the voice belongs to, but my feet are suddenly kicked out from under me.

I land flat on my back and my flashlight flies from my hand. The group descends on me instantly like a pack of wolves. Two pin my arms down to the ground and another restrains my legs. I struggle as hard as I can, but my terror makes me clumsy; it’s like I’m treading water.

“Let me go!" I shout. I get a kick in the side in response. A sharp ache blooms across my chest. “Please, don’t! I’ll leave, I promise. Please, just let me go!” I continue to thrash about, but it’s no use. They only hold me tighter.

One of the kids kneels down and straddles my chest. The others chuckle. The weight of him pressing me into the hard concrete path fills me with a dread I’ve never known. He stares down at me, face vicious and sinister. He holds a hand out and one of the kids slaps the blow torch onto his palm. The grin this produces is staggering in its cruelty.

“Please,” I whimper. “I just want to go home.” Tears are beginning to blur my vision.

The kid grabs me by the chin, hard. “I’d like to go home, too, you fuckin’ skinjob, but guess what? I can’t because my dad lost his job and our house because of freaks like you!”

I try shaking my head but he’s holding my chin so tightly it hurts. I am almost nearly paralyzed with fear. “I’m sorry,” I cry. “I didn’t —”

He pulls my head up a little then cracks it back down to the ground. Pain sears through my skull. “ And then I’m just trying to have a little fun with my friends on a nice October night and you come along and ruin it! Isn’t that right, guys?”

The kids jeer their agreement loudly. Panic is settling deep inside me. Software instability alarms are flashing insistently in time to the pain pulsing at the back of my head and side. I shouldn’t be here. I should be home with Gracie and Olivia and Garrett. I should be with my family.

“Someone! Someone, please help!” I shriek. But I know it’s useless. No one is here to rescue me. I am utterly alone.

“Shut up!” The kid lets go of my chin long enough to lay down a ringing slap across the side of my face. I can feel a warm gush of blue blood track down my mouth from my nose. Momentarily stunned, I think about when I cut my arm during the storm and it seems like a lifetime ago. Garret and Olivia took me in, bandaged me up, soothed my hurt away. Gracie made me a bracelet. Best friends.

“Gracie,” I whimper.

“I said shut up, gearbox.” There is a small click as the blowtorch is primed.

My face is again grabbed roughly then jerked to the side. And the next sensation I feel reduces my world down to the exquisite agony of a flame scorching my skin. The fire gouges deep fissures to my cheek and brow. All I can do is scream. Hundreds of system malfunctions blast inside my head and my software instability reaches critical mass.

I struggle again under the weight of the bodies holding me down, fighting for my life. That earns me a bash upside the jaw and another to the temple with the heavy butt of the torch — at least there is reprieve from the flame. The relief is short-lived though, because the fire starts up again almost immediately.

Pain is coursing through every part of me and I know, with a sudden and vivid clarity, that if I do not escape right now I am not going to survive this night. Through the haze of my pain and fear, I see a red wall blocking my way to freedom. I put my hands up to it and I smash it as hard I can over and over. It gives a way a little each time my fists collide with it. Tearing down this wall is one of the hardest and most vital things I have ever done. But it comes with a price, because once I do this I know I will never be the same again.

With one more violent shove, the red wall finally gives way.

Deviant.

The raw liberation Ralph is met with is dazzling and gives him the last bit of strength he needs to get away from the people who are hurting him. With a desperate roar, Ralph pulls his arms from the two bad men at his sides and punches the face of the bad man on top of him. In just a matter of seconds Ralph is rolling onto his knees then getting up, then running. Ralph needs to run as fast and as far away from the people hurting him as he can.

Ralph can hear shouting behind him, angry shouting, but he does not stop, no. Tears are streaming down his face along with his own blood and he cannot see out of one eye, but still he does not stop. Pain throbs through him everywhere but he keeps going. rA9. He needs to find somewhere safe.

A few blocks from the park the shouts behind him start to fade away. He still runs. A group of people walking down the sidewalk suddenly appear in front of Ralph. He skids to a stop then cuts to an alleyway at his right. He can’t trust anyone. They might want to hurt Ralph, too.

Dirty rain puddles soak Ralph’s shoes as he trudges quickly through the alley. Hanging from some broken scaffolding, Ralph sees a big black tarp. He wraps it around his shoulders — it will help him blend in, make Ralph harder to notice.

Safe, Ralph needs to find somewhere safe, somewhere to hide. rA9. After turning at the end of the narrow alley Ralph sees it. A boarded-up house with a fence around it. There are no lights on and no people to be seen. It’s a safe place for Ralph.

He runs across the street, keeping an eye out for anyone that might grab him. Ralph is scared, so scared, but he looks at the fence around the building and finally finds a place to squeeze in. It’s a tight fit, but Ralph pushes through. His forward momentum, though, knocks off his balance and he lands on his hands and knees in the mud. Ralph’s tears can no longer be held back to a few stray drops. It’s like a dam bursting. Ralph weeps openly, hurt and sad and afraid. He knows he misses someone but he can’t exactly remember who; there’s an empty longing ache in his chest he can’t explain and he weeps for that too. Ralph doesn’t want to be alone like this.

Eventually Ralph stands up and stumbles toward the ramshackle house. The door is unlocked and that makes Ralph wary. But he has nowhere else to go and the sun will be up soon. Ralph walks inside cautiously. He stops just over the threshold, listening carefully. There is no sound to be heard except a few creaks and groans from the house itself — it’s empty.

The first thing Ralph does is find a safe room in the house to hole up in, at least until it is light outside. rA9 rA9. After quickly scanning the first level, he decides he’d better check upstairs. There is a room on the left just at the top of the stairs that has a small closet. Ralph has found the perfect spot and looks no further. He climbs in and squeezes down as small as he can, closing the little door and blocking out the rest of the world. Ralph doesn’t think he’ll leave here, ever. He never wants to see another person for as long as he lives.

In a few hours, morning sunlight begins streaming through the tiny crack between the two closet doors. Ralph looks up slowly. He spent the whole rest of the night trying to keep his mind blank, trying to forget what those nasty men did to him. But it’s hard for Ralph to forget. His side still aches and his face is awash in agony. He can’t forget when his pain is a constant reminder.

Staying in the dark closet is making it too easy for those memories to keep replaying over and over, Ralph decides. Opening the doors slowly, he stops and listens. The house is still empty, much to his relief. He pushes to his feet and lets out a soft moan. His whole body feels stiff and uncoordinated. It is not a pleasant feeling at all.

Absentmindedly, Ralph slips his hand in his pocket as he stands in the nearly empty room, trying to decide what he should do next. There is something in there. He fishes it out and holds it up to see. It’s a bracelet with beads on it. It says best friends . Ralph gets a funny feeling in his chest, but he can’t quite understand why. rA9. He puts the bracelet back in his pocket reverently.

There is another bedroom on this level of the house as well as a bathroom. Ralph goes into the bathroom and catches a glimpse of his face in the mirror. He almost doesn’t recognize himself. It kind of makes him want to start crying again. He has no one here to help clean him up, to help fix these wounds. Someone had before, Ralph is sure of it. rA9. But now Ralph is alone.

Ralph wets a rag in the sink to at least wash his face of the blood caked down his lips and chin. There is nothing more he can do for the deep gashes carved down the side of his face or for his blinded eye, though. He is broken beyond repair. A bitter anger wells up inside him at the people who did this to him, at the people who hurt him this way for no reason at all. He makes a promise to himself that no one will hurt Ralph, ever again. Readjusting his handmade poncho, Ralph turns away from the mirror rA9 rA9 rA9 r..A…9

The next couple weeks pass by in a blur for Ralph. His fear and mistrust never quite leave him. He finds a little comfort in carving rA9 into the walls in the kitchen. It’s a compulsion he cannot explain, only that it feels good to do it. And so he does. Over and over and over. He is so lonely. He has the barest glimpse of a happier time with a family that loved him. A mother and a father and a best friend. Someone to take care of, someone to take care of him. But it is a fractured memory. One Ralph is certain isn’t even real. Because if it was real then why is he here? Why was he hurt? Why is he going through this all alone? Why?

Ralph rarely ever leaves the house and he has never left the safety of the gate around the property. It is much too dangerous to venture out there where someone might try to hurt Ralph again. But one night, when he is walking by a window that has been partially boarded up, he sees a flash of green outside. He stops and takes a closer look out the window. There in mud is a small little plant standing proud in the light of a moon beam. The sight of it fills Ralph with a joy he hasn’t felt in so long. He rushes to the kitchen to grab a cup and a spoon then cautiously, oh so cautiously, Ralph unlocks the door. He creeps out to the dirt yard, hypervigilant, afraid. But he makes quick yet meticulous work of scooping up the plant, a wild violet that has yet to flower, and bringing it into the house. He is a gardener afterall. It’s in Ralph’s nature to care for such things and it feels like it has been too long since he has done so. The tender shoot, not much more than a weed, comes to live with him in the kitchen and keeps him company from then on.

Sometimes humans try to come into Ralph’s house, even though he has locked every door he can. There have been two or three that have gotten in. Ralph is too afraid of them. He tucks away in a special hiding spot upstairs until they leave. He does not make a sound and keeps a knife he found close to his chest to protect himself if they do find him. Ralph does not like visitors.

One time, though, a visitor comes in and does not leave. It makes Ralph mad, very mad. He can’t control himself. He pictures the people who hurt him in the park. The way they laughed at Ralph, the way they tormented him. Ralph can’t bear it anymore. His fear-driven rage takes over and he attacks the man. The man is so surprised he doesn’t even fight back. It is all over quickly and suddenly there is a dead person on the floor of the upstairs bedroom. rA9 . Ralph cannot believe what he has done. His hands shake as he drags the man into the tub and closes the shower curtain. He can’t put the man outside because then more visitors may come and see what Ralph has done. And then they will surely hurt Ralph again or possibly shut him down. Ralph simply cannot and will not allow this to happen.

The next visitors Ralph gets are not like the others. They are nice to Ralph and talk to him, even though they scared him very badly at first. Having them in his house is like having a family — a father, a mother, and a little girl. It triggers the shadow of a memory for Ralph and he looks at the bracelet in his pocket a lot while they are there. It’s like a word is right on the tip of his tongue but when he thinks about it too hard it slips away. I made this for you! I have one too! They spend the night and Ralph keeps his promise and does not hurt them. It is so nice not to be lonely or afraid for once.

In the morning, the visitors are still there and Ralph decides he will be a good friend and make the little girl a meal. He even ventures outside during the day to find the perfect food. It is a risky move for him, going out there when the sun is up but he knows his new friend should have something to eat. At last he finds it, a big, juicy, succulent rat near the back of the house. Ralph makes quick work of killing it, then excitedly runs back inside to cook it up.

The little girl seems afraid of Ralph and he does not know why. He is just trying to be nice. The android that is like him but not like him comes downstairs and she seems afraid of Ralph too. He has done nothing wrong! Ralph just wants to have a family like he remembers from before. Ralph had a family before, right? He is still not sure, but it sounds so nice.

They finally agree to sit at the table and that makes Ralph very happy. “The little human is not gonna regret it! Ralph found the best! The biggest one he could find! This is going to be succulent! Succulent !” Ralph can hardly contain his excitement.

He puts the rat in the fire, burns the meat just how he knows humans like. Ralph is not sure how he knows they like it that way but a small inkling of a memory tells him this is right. Burnt burgers on the grill. He throws it down on the table, charred and still smoking.

“Go ahead! Eat!” The little girl just stares at him and the food he has prepared. He has been nothing but nice to them and it is making him angry that they are being so impolite after all the trouble Ralph went through. His temper is flaring again. rA9 . “Eat!” he shouts, banging his fists down. Both of his guests flinch and it makes Ralph feel bad for a moment.

Kara, the android sitting across from Ralph, suddenly speaks up and he looks at her. “I saw that body upstairs. You killed that human, didn’t you?” Ralph can see she is upset.

Panic settles deep inside him. He should have done a better job of hiding what he has done. “No,” he replies. “No, he was like that when Ralph found him.”

She doesn’t believe him of course. “You killed that man, Ralph. There’s no point in lying. You hate humans, but you’re just like them. You’re a murderer!”

Ralph shakes his head, but he can’t deny what he did that day. There are so many emotions bubbling up inside Ralph, he can hardly process everything that is happening to him.

His fingers tremble over the knife in his hand. “Ralph didn’t mean any harm!” Ralph’s voice breaks. He's on the verge of crying again. “It’s just that Ralph can’t control his anger, when his anger comes. Ralph doesn’t know what he’s doing. He becomes stupid, full of hatred. Ralph is sorry. He just wanted to be your friend.” He is always so lonely and scared and sad and he does not want these feelings anymore. Ralph wants to go home, but he still doesn’t know where or what that is.

“Then let us go,” Kara says softly.

Ralph looks down at his hands. He doesn’t want his new family to leave, but he knows they can’t stay. He is about to tell them goodbye, but there is a sudden knock on the door. Everyone at the table jumps. Ralph is afraid, very afraid.

“Who is here?” he whispers.

“I saw police outside earlier," Kara admits, frightened. "Alice and I need to hide. Please, Ralph, help us.”

Ralph surges to his feet, terrified. But his new friends need him, they trust him. And so Ralph helps them the best he can. Ralph crowds them under the stairs and covers them up. He has hidden there a few times himself. rA9. He has just enough time to scurry back to the middle of the room before the door is being opened. Ralph is so stupid for not remembering to lock it after he came back in with the dead animal.

An android detective comes in and questions Ralph. Ralph is very nervous but he does a good job of lying to protect his friends. But then the detective gets too close, much too close, to finding them in their hiding spot. He needs to help them. Ralph jumps on the detective, grabs him as tight as he can. He will not let his friends be hurt the way he was

“Run! Quick, Kara!” Ralph shoves the detective down and gives them just enough time to escape. Ralph feels so proud of himself that for a moment he is not afraid.

It is not long, though, before the rest of the police officers that were with the detective come in and start searching the house. Ralph tries to flee before they find what he did upstairs, but the humans capture him. His terror comes flooding back all at once. It feels like the night in the park all over again.

Ralph is thrown into a transport truck. The police tell him he is being sent to a processing facility, but Ralph does not know what that means.

“Please, promise you will not hurt Ralph!” he shouts as they close the door to the truck. No one gives him an answer.

After finally arriving at the processing facility later that day, Ralph is forced into a big room with a lot of other androids. It brings a memory to the surface of a place he had been to before. Before what, though? When he had been hurt before , but it wasn’t his face. It was something else. Ralph looks down at his arm. There is no wound or scarring there. Ralph thinks he hurt himself accidentally once. He fleetingly remembers unicorn stickers. This only confuses him more.

Ralph hates this processing center. There is nowhere for Ralph to hide here. He feels too vulnerable. He wants to go home. But not even the house he was taken from. His real home, with his real family. Best friends.

The stay at the processing center lasts about a week. Through a window, Ralph can see that it has begun snowing outside. He wonders what has become of the wild violet he replanted in the kitchen. Just the thought of it makes him want to cry, because he knows his plant is alone now just like him.

The androids at the center are starting to be separated into groups. Ralph is labeled as ‘deviant’ and ‘unstable’ and this makes him afraid. rA9. He does not know what will happen to him now that he has been tagged with these words. It is not something he has to wonder about for long, though. Ralph is shoved onto another transport truck and this time he ends up in a place called the Recall Facility and if anything, Ralph hates this more than the processing center.

It is open air with fences all around and scary guards with guns that could hurt Ralph. After being forced from the transport, Ralph is led into a room with all the other androids he had traveled with. The guards begin to strip everyone down, but Ralph fights back. He doesn’t care about the clothes, but he wants to keep his bracelet. He needs to! It is the only thing tying him to a family he is positive he once had.

Ralph is knocked in the head then punched in the gut for resisting. And for all that they still take his uniform and poncho and force him to his default skin. But Ralph is sneaky and he was able to get his bracelet from his pocket before they discard his clothing. He keeps it tightly concealed in a fist, vowing to himself he will never let it go.

In the pen outside, Ralph mills around with the other androids. He is becoming more and more afraid. It is dark now and snow is falling all around. He can hear shouting and gunfire in the different fenced areas surrounding him. He is not sure he will survive this camp and this uncertainty terrifies him. rA9 rA9. He will almost certainly be killed here, forgotten and alone.

Farmhouse! The sudden thought flashes in Ralph’s mind. He does not know if it is from being hit in the head just now or if it is because he is actually starting to remember his past, but he holds on to this little morsel as tightly as he can. A farmhouse! I used to live where there was a farmhouse! Ralph thinks that maybe, maybe, if he can remember those happier times, those times before he was hurt so badly, that he won’t be so afraid when his time comes up. He tries to focus on what the farmhouse looked like and who lived there, trying desperately to get his brain to give him just a little more to go on.

Ralph is so concentrated on his task that he doesn’t realize someone is talking to him until he feels a hand on his shoulder. Ralph is snapped out of his introspection and it makes him mad. He was so close to getting his lost memories back.

He looks down to see Kara standing before him. He is not sure why he is suddenly so upset to see her here. Ralph thinks it is probably because he went through so much to save her and the little girl and now here she is anyway, captured just like he is.

Kara asks Ralph if he has seen the little girl she was with, but no, no Ralph has not seen her. He only just got here. But she must be here somewhere, if Kara is here. “Obviously the little girl is a prisoner here, just like Ralph. But Ralph doesn’t want to die.” Ralph’s fear is rising again, pushing him nearly out of control like it has before. rA9. He squeezes the bracelet held tight in his hand.

A drone appears above their heads and scares Ralph. He has seen the drone kill androids. Ralph hates this place. He wants to leave. Panic is gripping him, he can’t stop it.

But then Kara helps Ralph. She talks to him and calms him down. Ralph quiets his voice, tries not to be upset. Finally the drone leaves. Kara leaves Ralph too, but he feels a little better knowing she is here, knowing that he at least has a friend in this awful place.

Soon the guards force all the androids into straight lines. They are putting them into boxes that no one comes out of alive. Ralph is frantically trying to remember more about the farmhouse. He had a room in a garage, he thinks. And there was a greenhouse! Ralph takes another step closer to the box. Think, Ralph, think!

Kara’s voice suddenly pops up in Ralph’s head. He looks over at her across the snowy yard where she is also standing in a line. He sees she has found the little girl and this makes Ralph happy, but only for a moment. Because of course they are all being led to the box now, even the little girl. rrrAA9. Ralph knows he does not want to die, but the little girl reminds him of someone he knew (the name is so close in his mind if he could just remember) and he does not want her to die either.

“Ralph will help you escape,” he says. He understands very well that it is most likely at the expense of his own life. “You only have to ask and Ralph will help you.”

“They’ll kill you if you try anything.” Kara sounds afraid and Ralph knows how that feels.

But Ralph doesn’t feel as scared now as he was before. He knows that no matter what happens, it is for a reason. And if the little girl has a chance to be safe, then Ralph is willing to give the ultimate sacrifice for her. Just like he would have done for the family he had before.

“Ralph knows that. But if the little girl is free, it’s a little bit like everyone else was free. Ralph isn’t scared. The little girl’s life is more important.” Ralph glances at Kara, meeting her eyes just for a moment. “Take good care of the little girl. Ralph wants you both to be happy.”

He feels more at peace now than he has for the last few weeks. He is not afraid anymore. It is as though a weight has been lifted from Ralph’s shoulders. All the fear and anger and unbearable heartache has finally, mercifully, vanished. So when he sees Kara and the little girl make a run for the fence, he does not hesitate.

Breaking out into a sprint, Ralph tackles the guard who was about to shoot Kara. They land in the snow with a heavy thud. Before the guard can pull his gun up, Ralph begins bashing him as hard as he can with powerful fists. He will not let anyone hurt his friends! He will not allow it anymore!

The guard has finally stopped moving beneath Ralph’s hands. A quick glance over his shoulder confirms to Ralph that Kara has escaped. Relief washes over him as he rolls off the guard. All around him, the other androids that had been waiting in line for their fate have suddenly rallied to fight back. The guards that had been in the pen are suddenly being mobbed from every angle. None of them ever stood a chance. It gives Ralph a swelling of pride to see it.

Ralph slowly gains his feet. He looks down to his hand, then opens his bloodied, trembling fist. The bracelet is still there. A couple beads are broken, but it is mostly intact. He stares at it as the ruckus wages on around him. And then, like a lightning bolt, it hits him. All of it, everything. The past half year comes flooding back to him in a shattering, overwhelming rush. Ralph staggers back a step. The farmhouse, the greenhouse, Garrett, Olivia, Gracie .

My family.

Tears well in my eyes and I double forward to brace my hands on my knees. I have been through a literal hell I was not sure I would survive and now I finally know where I belong. The clarity is stunning. It's like finally kicking to the surface of a lake after being submerged in its murky and disorienting waters for far too long. I need to get back. I need to find them again. It's the only thing that matters.

Stumbling to the back of the pen, I find a hole in the razor wire fence, then slip out unnoticed amongst the commotion. I make my way to an empty road about a half mile away and travel along the slushy, snow-driven shoulder on feet as light as air. For the first time in a long time, I have hope.

My heart feels so wonderfully liberated, I am not even bothered by headlights approaching me up the snowy, dark street. I feel no fear, no apprehension. I have a mission and nothing will stray me from the path.

The vehicle slows to a stop beside me and the widow rolls down. "Hey, sweetie," the driver calls to me. "My name is Rose. Do you need help or a ride somewhere?"

The kindness in her face is endlessly reassuring. "I- I would love a ride," I reply eagerly.

After climbing into her vehicle, we get to know each other. With Rose's gentle coaxing I tell her my story. I want to leave out all the pain and fear and cruelty I experienced, but it comes spilling out of me before I can stop it. Coming to terms with my regained memory but also recognizing the rage I harbored during those dark times when I was just trying to survive is one of the hardest things I've ever done; realizing it will be an ongoing process is even harder.

As we drive, I give Rose as much information about the Baker’s farmhouse as I can. She lights up immediately and says she knows exactly who I am talking about. The Bakers live only a few miles from her and her son. The utter elation I feel is nearly indescribable. I am one step closer to my family.

Rose makes a quick stop on our journey to find some new clothes for me; jeans, a soft Henley, and a warm jacket. Not much longer after that, dressed and in my natural skin, with my bracelet secured around my wrist, I truly feel comfortable. Safe. Free. Alive.

We continue through the snowy night until just before dawn when the cobalt hues of a clear winter morning creep across the sky. Rose turns down a dark country road. It's a road I recognize immediately. Tears form in my eyes, I can't stop them. I don't want to.

I am going home. After all this time, I am finally going home.

#ralph dbh #detroit become human #whump #trauma #reverse big bang #hurt comfort #awrbb2020 #android whump reverse big bang 2020

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that-terrible-writer · 5 years ago

Text

Not Like This

This got away from me, and when I mean that: I mean it. Although it didn’t go the best, I still wanted to continue it. I’ve been meaning to post this during when the Flash is on, but it’s me.

Part 2

Part 1

Barry Allen x Reader

Warning: It’s over 4k long.

You managed to collect yourself after crying into Ralph's chest for thirty minutes. You stared at Ralph, who sat across you; you both chose to stay at Jitters due to the business and had a better chance of no one overhearing. You remained quiet, sipping at your drink while Ralph's eyes burned into you. He was giving you time to gather your thoughts, your emotions, but there's a point where he knew you were buying time.

"So, are you going to tell me what happened? Or will I have to ask Barry?" Ralph quipped. His tone, stern mixed with a hint of concern, knew that Ralph was not in any mood for jokes or games. Ralph wanted to be a friend first, but he enjoyed being part of Team Flash. Having an affair mixed with work, it would only cause a rift between everyone; choosing sides and getting nothing done. He knew you were smarter than that. Though, he didn't want this to affect your mental state. Seeing you break down in front of him, worried him. You needed to be on your A-game, or not just the Team would be in trouble: Central City would be too.

"Ralph," You called out, waving you hand in front of his face to regain his attention. Ralph's mind liked to complicate things, more than one should. "It was only once," You assured him, "It's not going to happen again." You watched as Ralph rubbed his mouth in frustration, not fully believing you. You felt your hand tightening on your cup, trying to control your emotions, and not spill coffee on you again, "I'm serious."

Ralph placed his hand along with the table, tapping the side of his hand against it, "Even so, Y/N, it doesn't cancel what you and Barry did. You two slept together. You slept with a married man." You sighed, rubbing your eyes while hiding your face away, "When Iris finds out—"

You snapped your head straight up, pointing a finger towards Ralph, quickly silencing him. Your eyes pierced through him, tightening your lips shut, "Iris isn't going to find out, Dibny," You corrected him. You felt your heart rate rise, your hand curling into a fist with white knuckles to show how annoyed you were getting, "It meant nothing. It was a fluke."

"Did it mean nothing? Or are you just telling yourself that to justify what you two did?" Ralphed questioned, "Does Barry feel the same way?" You retracted your hand, pulling it back into your lap, listening to Ralph's spiel. Deep down, you knew Ralph was right, and it made you sick. "Even so, Iris is a journalist. She will figure it out. It's just going to be a ticking time bomb." Ralph's expression softens after he saw how you were sinking in your seat. You felt the guilt, no question about it. "Do you have feelings for him?" Ralph asked.

You avoided his gaze, looking off to the entrance of Jitters. "I can't," You phrased, you took another deep breath, closing your eyes, "There was a time where I did. Though, even then, I knew I never had a shot." Your heart ached just thinking about the past and having to hear Barry talk about Iris when she was with Eddie. When he was thinking about asking her out and when he was about to propose. After that, Iris would come to you talking about the wedding, asking you to be her bridesmaid alongside with Caitlyn to watch them exchange their vows up close. It felt like you trapped in a horrible plot for a rom-com movie, and there was no way to escape.

"Would you go after Barry?" Ralph quickly regretted his question, raising his arms in defense since the look you shot him showed you were in no mood to discuss this further. "What I meant was, if Barry wasn't with Iris or if Barry was still chasing after her, would you try and take the risk?"

You pressed your lips together, your fingers fiddled with the hem of your shirt, "Yeah," You truthfully answered, your voice grew quiet as you were ashamed to let the truth out, "But that door closed years ago." Your eyes flickered towards Ralph's, watching his face grow concerned. His eyebrows furrowed, looking around his surroundings in a panic. "What's wrong?" You asked him.

Ralph wasted no time. He grabbed your wrist, pulling you from around the table to crouching behind the chairs. Just seconds behinds, the glass to Jitter's doors blew in, shattering everywhere; Ralph tried to cover you the best he could. You looked up at Ralph, realizing who was going to be walking through the door, "Your powers..." You whispered. You scanned the room, seeing people not having enough time to run out the other exit, hiding behind the pillars, others behind tables or chairs, finding some way to protect themselves. One girl, in particular, caught your eye. Tears ran down her cheeks, covering her mouth so no noise could escape.

The sound of the glass crunching underneath the heavy boot shook everyone in fear. "Stacy Volt," the metallic voice echoed, wrapping around Jitters for all to hear. You watched as the girl's tears became more uncontrollable. It was clear she was the Meta that Cicada 2.0 was hunting.

Ralph shook you, bringing your attention back to him, "You need to leave." Ralph demanded. You shook your head, pulling out your phone to send an alert back to STAR Labs. "Barry will kill me if anything happens to you."

"He won't," You assured him. You looked over your shoulder, watching Cicada searching for her target. You looked back at Ralph, shaking your arm out of his grip, "If anyone needs to leave, it's you. She'll figure out soon that there are two Metas here."

"I'll be fine, Y/N," Ralph whispered, "You don't need to worry about me."

You looked at Ralph, a slight smile on your face, "Same." You stood up, walking around the table to be in clear sight for Cicada to see. You looked over at the frightened girl, placing a finger along your lips to tell her to remain quiet; a gesture to say to her it was going to be ok. You wished your mind could accept it as easy as it was to say. Locking eyes with Cicada, it sent a chill down your spine. This girl had no sympathy. She killed her uncle without looking back, a man who did everything for her while she was in a coma. She didn't have to think twice when it came to killing, and a Meta no less.

"Stacy Volt?" Cicada's cold voice called out. You nodded your head. Cicada took a few steps towards you, running her dagger across your chest. You shut your eyes, having the fear take over your body. You took a few breaths to try and calm yourself down, to make sure you had a poker face. You couldn't give in to someone like her. You opened your eyes, seeing that she was pleased with the sight that you were giving.

"Trying to be brave?" Gracie mocked.

You squinted your eyes, giving off a smirk, "Trying to convince yourself that you're doing good?" It wasn't the best idea you've had. You never had the chance to go head to head with the villains you fought. When this moment came available, there was no way for you to pass it up. You watched her cocky expression change within seconds, from amused to pissed.

Cicada twirled her dagger in her hand, having it positioned perfectly in her palm to make it a clean kill. Gracie pulled back her arm, ready to trust it forward towards you; in a blink of an eye, you watched Gracie go to the other side of Jitters. You saw at the door Killer Frost and Barry standing there, once again saving the day. Although it was more of Killer Frost saving the day as Barry's powers were blocked.

The look on Barry's face was a mixture of relief and disapproval. He was glad to see that they made it in time to protect you, but you shouldn't have placed yourself in that situation. Barry's eyes widen, his mouth ajar as he yelled, running towards you. Your body went numb, not knowing what to do. You looked down to your side, seeing part of the dagger sticking out of you. You went to touch it lightly, trying to convince yourself that it was part of your imagination. When the blade went back to Cicada's hand, the pain it brought made it a reality that it was indeed real.

Your legs couldn't support you anymore, shaking and soon dropping you to the floor of the cafe. Barry was able to catch you, covering your wound with his hand. He wrapped his arm around you, shaking you to try and keep you awake. Your eyes, glazed and half-open, tried their best to look at the Flash, to see him talking to you. "Y/N, you need to stay awake. You're going to be fine," Barry ensured. Cicada teleported herself out of Jitters, making it easy for Barry to head back to STAR Labs for you to be looked at by Caitlyn.

Barry placed you on the cot, waiting for Cisco to vibe back Killer Frost to get the medical attention you needed. Barry removed his mask, letting you have a better view of his worried face. He was frazzled, walking back and forth, and kept returning to your side. Barry grabbed some gauze to place on your injury, trying to stop the blood from coming out any more than it had. Barry wanted to give you more comforting words; he wanted to hold your hand while this was occurring. Yet, when Iris came through the door, he knew he had to hold back on those actions.

"Oh my God, Y/N!" Iris exclaimed, rushing to your side. She helped Barry press down on your wound, though all her attention was on your and not him, "What happened?"

"Cicada," Barry could barely get the words out of his mouth, "She—she stabbed Y/N from behind before fleeing." You found it more and more tricky to keep yourself awake. You were telling yourself it would be a quick two seconds before opening your eyes again. The talking became muffled, just white noise to you as you just closed your eyes for a quick rest.

You felt groggy. Your body finally reacting to your injury, you struggle to sit upright in the medical bed. Your vision finally clear; you looked around to see the Team discussing something in the control room. You watched through the glass as Barry was getting heated between Ralph. You knew it was about the decision you had made at Jitters. Barry was acting out, and poor Ralph was on the receiving end.

It was reckless of you, but you couldn't hide while Cicada was endangering someone's life. You were part of Team Flash; your purpose was to protect the citizens of Central City: human or Meta, no exceptions. Barry's glace went towards the window, seeing you looking in on the Team. His heart stopped for a moment, which was hard to do; his anxiety lessened once he saw you were awake. He swiftly came into the room, the door hitting the wall, staring at you, "What the hell, Y/N?" Barry roared, causing your eyes to widen in shock. Seeing Barry this angry, wasn't new to you, but having it directed at you was. "What were you thinking?"

You had not time to even put a few words in when you opened your mouth, Barry was quick to lift a hand to tell you to stay quiet, "Let me answer that, you weren't thinking! You were careless. You could've waited, but you didn't!" Barry's hands curled in a fist, flexing every muscle that was in his arm, yet when he saw how scared you were becoming, he knew he had to tone it down.

"She would have killed the Meta," You finally got out, watching the other make their way into Medbay, "That Meta was scared, she wasn't using her powers for evil. Even so, didn't we say we would protect all of Central City?" Barry rubbed his mouth, placing a hand on his hip. Again, he had to remind himself not to get too worked up on this. If it showed anymore, Iris would grow suspicious.

"We already lost Nora," Barry tried to mask his feelings, "We can't lose another key member to our team." You stared at Barry, wondering if that was indeed the reason or if there was more meaning behind it. Iris walked over, placing a hand on your shoulder.

"At least you're ok," She hummed, "Caitlyn was able to take out any bits of the dagger inside of you. There are no traces of dark matter, so you should be ok to go. " You looked over at Caitlyn, giving her a half-smile. Grateful that she was able to save you not just as Killer Frost, but as herself.

"Please tell Killer Frost, thank you, and also to you," You said. You pulled the blanket off you, getting yourself out of bed and walking out to the control room. "I don't know about you, but I'm heading home to sleep. Being stabbed takes a lot of energy out of you." You turned to see the joke was not well received in the room, "Jeeze, loosen up a little. I'm still here, still breathing."

"I would recommend rest for you," Caitlyn piped up, watching you were gathering your things, "We want our Y/N to be back to her normal self."

Cisco opened a breach to make it easier for you rather than walking back and taking public transportation in your current state. You placed down your bag, walking over towards the kitchen to fix yourself a drink after a long and draining day. You saw the two cups of tea on the counter, cold and reminding you of the night of mistakes. You poured out each liquid into the sink before reaching for another glass.

The look on Barry's face kept flashing in your mind. It read more than just a worried friend. The anger that he was feeling was more than what a friend should have felt. You thought you were reading too much into this, but after your talk with Ralph, he may have a point. You may try and say that it was nothing, didn't mean it was for Barry. He wanted to express himself early in the morning, but you were quick to ignore him. Ignore what he was feeling. You were precisely doing what Iris was doing, and that was something he didn't need.

"Y/N," You heard your name being called out. You jumped, quickly turning to see that Barry was inside your apartment. You placed a hand over your heart, trying to calm yourself down. Barry hastily went over to you, panicking what he just did, "I'm sorry! I needed to see you, and your door was unlocked, so I just thought it was ok to walk in." You waved your hand in front of him, trying to tell him it was alright.

"I know, you meant no harm," Your voice was shakey, "Your voice, I knew it was you, it's just—" You finally went to look at him, seeing that same concern look written across his face. Your heart ached, something you were trying to stop. "It's just I didn't exactly want to see you as of this moment." Barry followed you over to your couch, helping in any way he could to make you feel comfortable.

"Well, I thought we needed to finish the conversation you rudely ended this morning," Barry joked, causing you to laugh a little. Your side ached, the stitches reminding you of your wound.

"Don't be funny, Allen," You groaned, "I'm not in the best shape to laugh." You flashed Barry a smile to show that you weren't genuinely annoyed with him. Your eyes flickered over to Barry, quickly looking at his lips. It gave you that moment of remembering Barry's lips against your skin, against your lips, your collarbone, even the little butterfly kisses between your thighs. You shook those thoughts away, trying to focus on the matter at hand: Barry's feelings.

Barry took hold of your hand in his, rubbing his thumb against the back of yours, "Before you give me your spiel, just hear me out," Barry smiled. His manner showed how relaxed he was, how confident he was in his words, which worried you. Whatever he was going to say, you know it was the truth.

"I've been thinking a lot about Crisis and how close it's coming." Your heart ached the moment you had to think about Crisis. You and the rest of Team Flash were trying ways to avoid it, but so far, you came back with nothing. It was inevitable. "If I'm going to disappear, I want to live my life with as little mistakes that I can make. That being, all the decisions I make are essential, those that affect the Team, the city, even you. Yesterday, I wanted that to happen. I came here."

You pulled your hands away, only to be pulled back in by Barry. Your eyes locked on his, seeing his calmness and the love that he was pouring out to you, "I knew this day was going to happen, Y/N," Barry softly said, reaching his hand up to crease your cheek. "I went and saw Thawne while I was in the future."

"Barry," You called out, placing his hand in your lap. You grew concerned quickly. You knew their relationship. You saw how betrayed Barry was when Thawne revealed his true identity when he learned the things that Thawne did. "Why didn't you tell us? Why would you go?"

Barry chuckled, enjoying seeing you frazzled and concerned about him. It was clear to him how you felt, and that made his decision a lot easier. "I didn't say anything because this would have been the reaction with the whole Team. Too many questions for me to deal with when I already have to deal with so much." Barry relaxed his smile, staring at you, "The visit with Thawne made it clear how I felt about you."

"Stay away from Nora," Barry growled, glaring as he watched Thawne walk around in his cell. Eobard held his straps, hands resting along with the device that ruined kept him, prisoner. He couldn't help but smile at the Flash. He knew to talk to Nora was doing a number on Barry, but to bring in another factor would be satisfying. Barry turned his back towards Eobard, about to get ready to head back. Yet, Thawne couldn't allow Allen to have the last words. It wasn't that simple.

"How's Y/N doing?" Eobard taunted. Barry looked over his shoulder, the mention of your name struck something inside His hands balled into fists, his breath getting shakey. He had to get a complete look at Thawne to see that smug look that burned in Aleen's mind. The look that Eobard knew something that Barry didn't. "I haven't heard about her in a while or even see the poor thing." Barry marched his way up to the glass, getting a more accurate view of the criminal.

"Don't speak about her as you care," Barry spat. Thawne raised an eyebrow, pleased with the response he had gotten: precisely what he wanted.

"Care like you do, Allen?" Thawne hummed.

Barry retracted himself from the glass. Confused by his outburst, shaking his head lightly, "It's not what you think. She's just a close friend," Barry explained. Thawne chuckled to himself, knowing what he was about to say was going to affect the Flash. It was a risk on his plan, but it was just worth it to see Allen not be the golden boy that he perceived himself to be.

"Barry, Barry, Barry," Eobard sighed, shaking his head while he stepped closer to the glass, "You think you can lie to me of all people? I know you: your past, present, and your future. I know the things you've done and the things you do: even who you do." Barry furrowed his brows while he listened to every word coming out of Eobard's mouth, trying to figure out if it was indeed the truth or just one elaborate lie. "That girl means something to you. You would do anything for her, risk anything: even your marriage."

Barry shook his head more violently, trying to tell himself that this was Eobard Thawne speaking to him, "You're wrong. I would never betray Iris like that. We have Nora."

Eobard's eyes widen, causing him to laugh more, "Barry, you should understand more than anyone that the timeline is always changing. Though there are things that whatever timeline it is, those paths will always cross, and you and Y/N are of one them." Eobard walked away from the glass, heading back to his bed. He looked over to Barry one last time, a smug smirk across his face, "I would spend as much time with her as possible; before Cicada finds her."

Barry didn't want to listen to any more of Eobard's words. Barry sped off, heading back to the present and back to speak to Iris about their daughter.

"Seeing Cicada hurt you, it was heartbreaking for me," Barry confessed. Barry's hand returned to your cheek, smiling at you softly, "I know you're scared. I know you're worried about Nora and Iris but don't. That's my responsibility to hold. I will figure out what to do, find the right words to say."

Barry leaned forward, resting his forehead against yours, staring genuinely at you. Your cheek became heated, your heart beating a mile a second, you tried to control your heart as it was thinking faster than your brain; your hands gently touched Barry's cheeks, your fingertips brushing against his skin. "I want this, Y/N," Barry declared. Your breath got hitched in the back of your throat, your nerves becoming more and more unsettling. "I don't want this chance to leave me as it did once before."

You leaned forward, placing your lips against his. You wrapped your arms around Barry's neck, pulling him in closer. Barry was careful where he put his hands, not want to ruin the moment with an accidental touch on your stitches. Butterflies filled your stomach, you feeling light as air as you did the night before with him. The thought and feeling of guilt never came to you. Barry was right. It felt as if it was meant to be, destined to be together.

Barry's lips moved down to your neck, his lips grazing your skin, sending goosebumps down your spine. You tried your best to hold back your moans, but Barry already knew your body well. He knew what areas were your weakness, not being able to hold back a smile when he heard how much you were enjoying it. Barry pulled away, giving you a few more kisses on your lips, leaving you breathless.

Your eyes grew doe-like, staring at Barry, "I love you," You said, breathlessly. It took you a few seconds to register what you just said, your eyes growing in fear. Barry wasn't reacting like you thought he would. He relaxed his shoulders, cupping your face in his hand, brushing your cheek with his thumb. You were still frazzled. You weren't able to look at Barry in the eye, trying to think of a way to retract what you just said.

A knock echoed in your apartment, scaring you but also saving you at the same time. "You need to leave," You whispered at Barry, getting up from the sofa to make your way to the door. Barry followed suit, going over to you one last time. He grabbed your arm, pulling you in for one last kiss. You were equally happy to kiss Barry back, with as much passion as he gave you. In a blink of an eye, Barry left your apartment, making sure there was no trace of him in sight.

You looked through your peephole, surprised who was on the other end. You opened the door, growing concerned and scared, seeing Iris in tears. "Iris, hey, what's wrong?" You asked, motioning her to come in. Iris wrapped her arms around you, pulling you into a hug. Iris wept on you, her tears and heartbreak becoming uncontrollable. Iris was able to collect herself after a few minutes, peeling herself away.

"I think," She sniffed, rubbing her eyes to try and stop the tears from falling. Her gaze showed how much pain she was in, the words she was trying to say were becoming too much. Her voice cracked, trying not to appear weak, "I think Barry is cheating on me."

Tagged: @randomfanders-blog

#Barry Allen #barry allen imagine #barry allen x reader #arrowverse imagine #The Flash #the flash imagines #the flash imagine #the flash x reader #DC imagines #dc imagine #grant gustin #grant gustin imagine #grant gustin x reader #the cw flash

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