#i did take longer on this one. gotta rein myself in and not make these too polished heh

[pickersonpaints]

10.3.24

[wandaluvstacos]

THE ONLY SECONDS THAT MATTER

EPILOGUE IS UP!

Genre: Contemporary Romance Rating: 18+

Includes: Extensive horse nerdery + cowboys, mxm romance (1 trans + 1 cis), some discussion child abuse, some instances of trans/homophobia (it is rural Oklahoma, y'all), depression, occasional sex scene (but it’s a slow burn for sure)

Victor Ortiz-Bennett had some reservations about moving to Oklahoma, but his late aunt willed him a 70-acre horse farm, and he decides to fulfill his dream of running and operating his own training facility. Victor’s been around the reining horse show circuit for a while, and he’s ready to settle down, travel less, and spend more time with the horses he loves and away from the people he can do without. That is, until he picks up a horse at an auction with a bucking problem he can’t fix, and he has to take her to the one guy who can ride anything– Johnny Stearns, a retired professional rodeo rider.

Johnny Stearns is loud, chatty, eccentric, and fears nothing, exactly Victor’s opposite. However, Victor finds himself sinking into an odd friendship with this new foul-mouthed cowboy without a filter, diving deeper into the mess that is Johnny’s life until there’s no way to extract himself from it. Johnny may talk a tough game, but there’s more to him than he’ll let most people see. Victor knows getting in too deep will mean a rough ride, but if there’s anything Johnny’s taught him, it’s how to stay in the saddle.

Excerpt:

      Johnny’s expression turned sad. “Maybe. I don’t know. I was really out of control.” He huffed in exasperation. “Don’t wanna spend much time worryin’ about it now. I think you’re worryin’ about everything enough for the both of us.”

            “No kidding.” Victor pulled the marshmallow away from the fire, blew on it for a second, then tried to bite it off the stick. It ended up smeared all across his face, and Johnny laughed as Victor attempted to wipe it off. To Victor’s surprise, Johnny grabbed his face and wrapped his lips around the tip of Victor’s nose, licking it clean.

            “Very weird, but thank you,” Victor said with a laugh.  

            “Oh, I’ll eat your ass but lickin’ your nose is too weird for ya?”

Now Victor laughed harder. “Well, when you put it that way…”

            Johnny grabbed a fistful of Victor’s shirt and yanked him into a kiss. Victor hadn’t predicted it, but he didn’t fight the contact. He wrapped his arms around Johnny’s neck, returning the kiss knowing they had the luxury of time. It went on longer than it usually did without escalating. Typically Johnny was pawing at his belt by now, but instead of growing more intense, he softened until the kiss naturally ended.          

            “What was that for?” Victor asked with a smile.

            “Needed to buy myself a little time to do this,” Johnny said, pulling further back until Victor’s gaze was pulled away from his and toward his hands. In them, he held a little black box, and in that was a gold ring.

            “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” Victor blurted. “Is this a joke?”

            “Figure I should make an honest man of you after knockin’ ya up,” Johnny joked, though his mouth kept twitching like it couldn’t decide between a smile or something else. “Wanna get married?”

[one-boring-person]

What's Funny?

John Rambo (between Rambo II and Rambo III) x reader

Warnings: some sexual content implied? Slight injury

Context: John teaches the reader to ride a horse. (Set between the second and third movie)

A/N: this was not supposed to turn out how it did; it was supposed to stay innocent! But ah well, it is what it is. Also, I apologise if parts of this are inaccurate, I am by no means that knowledgeable on horse riding, so please excuse any inaccuracies!

Masterlist

I instinctively tense up in the saddle as I feel the horse beneath me shift, the sensation of being sat on something alive very odd to me, despite all the stranger things I've done in my life. Sensing this, the animal whinnies and paws at the dusty ground, tossing its head slightly, clearly thinking I'm in distress, even though I'm not. Biting my lip, I try to relax again, taking the reins a little looser in my hands, adjusting my feet in the stirrups. Still holding the bridle for me, my companion, John, reaches up to pat the horse's neck, trying to soothe it as he eyes my posture.

"You need to relax more." He states, reaching over to lightly pinch the muscle in my arm, feeling how tense it is, his touch almost reassuring to me, "Stop tensing up so much, nothing bad is gonna happen."

"I know, I'm just...nervous, that's all." I mumble back, slightly ashamed at my incapability to do something he makes look so simple.

"Don't be, you'll be fine. There, now just lightly touch your heels to his side and click your tongue." The dark-haired veteran moves his hands, holding onto the leading rope instead.

Taking a breath, I do as he says, my jaw clenching when the horse starts into a slow walk, snorting and tossing its head impatiently. The movement feels odd beneath me, but I settle into it with some ease, still uncomfortable but not badly so, my eyes flicking to John for knowledge on whether I'm doing this right. He watches me carefully, leading the horse round in a circle, adjusting my posture here and there, sending me a look of reassurance when he catches my eye. I start getting the hang of it, relaxing slightly into the saddle as the horse starts to get used to me, the movements becoming smoother and more fluid, a small hesitant smile breaking out onto my lips. 

"Enjoying yourself?" John asks after a moment, the start of a smile pulling at his lips, dark eyes glittering with triumph. 

"Yeah, I am now." I reply, grinning at him as I reach forward to pat the horse's neck.

"Good, I'm glad." He responds, swiping a hand over his brow, "Stop a minute, I've gotta take this off."

The muscular man gestures to his large overshirt, waiting for me to slow to a halt before dropping the lead and going to the fence, where he takes his shirt off over his head. I find myself watching his every movement, enraptured by the way his muscles flex and move under his tanned, scarred skin, his torso hidden by one of his black sleeveless shirts, his shoulders bulging as he removes the fabric hiding them. Licking my lips at the sight, I forget to pay attention to the horse beneath me, yelping when it suddenly bucks upwards, the unexpected movement throwing me off the saddle a little, the animal quickly working to lose me completely. Getting my feet loose from the stirrups, I find myself thrown to the floor, dull pain exploding across my ribs as I land harshly, the impact winding me. Neighing, the stallion jumps into a more uncontrolled pace, seemingly having been spooked by something, leaving me lying in the dust as it moves off. 

"(Y/n)! Are you alright?" John calls out to me as he realises what's happened, the veteran swiftly moving to catch the fast-moving horse, grabbing it and calming it. Leading it back over, he hurriedly drops to the floor beside me, helping me sit upright as I press a hand to my ribs, groaning a little.

"Yeah, I'm good. Caught me by surprise." I wince, looking up at him, allowing him to help me up.

He looks me over, making sure I'm not seriously injured, before starting to consider something, a slight grin playing at his lips.

"What's funny?" I ask him curiously, dusting myself down.

"Hm? Oh, I just find it amusing that for a person who I've seen drive a car, motorcycle, tank, and fly planes and helicopters, as well as navigate boats, in all kinds of conditions, you've never mastered horse riding." He explains, chuckling slightly.

Pouting, I push his arm lightly, eyeing up the horse again.

"Yeah, well all those things are inanimate when they start, and I can fully control them. This creature has a mind of its own. Literally." I gesture to the horse, still slightly intimidated by the size of it.

"True." John hums, still smiling, "I've got an idea on how to help you."

"Oh?" 

"Yeah, come on." 

Going back to the horse, John motions for me to climb up again, helping me settle back into the saddle as I swallow down the slight fear in my throat. Trying to relax, I expect John to start adjusting my posture instantly, only to be very surprised when he suddenly appears behind me on the horse's back, perched lightly on the saddle, chest pressed flush to my back as his arms thread through mine, taking the reins in hand. My breath falters in my throat momentarily as he adjusts himself, his body moulding to mine to be more comfortable, his own breaths hot on my skin as he leans forwards slightly. Against my sides, I can feel every flex of his muscles, my heart stuttering from the sensation, meaning I nearly miss it as he takes my hands in his and holds the reins with them.

"Relax, (Y/n). The horse can sense if you're tense." John advises me, his rough voice resonating through me from this proximity. Somehow, this does help me to relax, and I feel myself go limper in his arms.

After a second, I feel John's thighs tense up as he gently taps his heels to the horse's sides, guiding the animal into a slow walk. His body moves in time with the horse, encouraging me to do the same, the action feeling much safer now that I can feel him help guide the animal. Swallowing, I try to ignore the feeling of his chest rubbing against my back, and the slight tickle from his long hair brushing over my shoulders. 

"See, you're getting the hang of it." John encourages me after a little while, his hands moving from mine to rest lightly on my thighs, leaving me to guide the horse around. Though the movement is casual, it sends goosebumps up through my body, my legs tensing slightly under his touch. He must've noticed it by now, but he seems to ignore it, instead helping me continue to ride.

I squeak in surprise when his lips suddenly make contact with my neck, the veteran leaving a very deliberate kiss just over my pulse point, his mouth lingering there as his hands slide up to grasp my waist. Nosing at the skin, he continues to press gentle kisses over the area, feeling my body relax under his hands, falling back into his chest as he continues his actions. Gently, he trails kisses down my neck to my shoulder, relishing in the small sounds of pleasure escaping me, my body yearning for more from him, years of craving his touch making me extremely vulnerable to his ministrations now.

"J-John…" I sigh, tilting my head to give him better access.

Beneath us, I can feel the horse getting antsy, the animal clearly aware that our attention is now split. John clearly feels it, too, as he takes the reins again and pulls the horse to a halt, reluctantly climbing down. Sighing from the loss of contact, I follow his lead, keeping my gaze downturned as he takes the horse out of the area we used for practice, trailing after him as he swiftly hands the creature back over to its owner, speaking quickly with them before he takes me behind the stable. 

Once there, he pushes me up against the wall, lips crashing into mine, his hands gripping my waist and pulling me into him, my own arms wrapping around his neck. Moaning into the kiss, I press closer to him, feeling safe in his arms as we move in time with each other, years of pent up emotion flooding across the connection. His scent, sweat mixed with the faint remains of incense from the temple, surrounds me, calming my racing heart at its familiarity, making me wish I could stay this close to him forever. 

Eventually, he pulls away, both of us needing air, his forehead pressing into mine, our breaths mingling with each other.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't wait any longer." He finally says, his dark eyes searching mine for a rejection.

"Don't apologise. I'm not sure how much longer I would've lasted, honestly." I admit, carding my fingers through his soft hair, enjoying the feeling of the messy strands under my touch. 

Smiling, John leans in and captures my lips again for a chaste kiss, before pulling back completely, wrapping an arm around my waist and pulling me into his side.

"Come on, let's go somewhere more private."

[moonlitceleste]

straight up villain (Villain AU)

This is a songfic based on “Villain” by K/DA ft. Madison Beer and Kim Petras. There’s really no plot to it; I started with a vague idea and just went along with whatever my brain told me. It kinda jumps around and I didn’t proofread this at all, so sorry if it’s confusing!

I’d suggest listening to the song and watching the visualizer video because it’s honestly such a vibe. If I could animate I’d totally make a video full of epic fight scenes, but unfortunately I don’t have that talent learned yet.

This version of the song is a little more chill, so if you find the original too intense you can always listen to the slowed one instead.

On the low Only love myself, no more Take you to the grave, I'll ghost I know I can be so cold In the dark Where I like to keep my heart Know I'm all bite, no bark Like to catch you way off guard

A shiver ran down the crime boss’ spine.

His eyes darted around the room, searching through the darkness.

Shadows flickered. He swore he could see movement in them.

The night was crime’s time to rule; people feared the darkness it brought.

Now, he was the scared one.

I'll stay so deep inside your brain And take you somewhere far away

“Who’s there?”

A bead of sweat trickled down his forehead, revealing his false bravado.

Shaking hands gripped the gun around his waist, knuckles turning white with pressure.

Creeeakk.

The man whipped around, heart hammering in his chest.

Who—or what—was lurking in the shadows?

A snap echoed through the air as he fired a round.

Silence.

The only sound came from distant echoes of Gotham’s nightlife and the frantic beating in his throat.

He swore he had seen something sweep out in the corner of his vision, if only for a moment.

Perhaps it was the paranoia.

He slowly lowered his gun, shoulders relaxing—

Only to whip around when he felt a phantom hand brush his shoulder.

A pair of eyes flashed in the darkness, gone the next second, but he knew what he had seen, what he had felt.

Icy fear seized his body, taking hold of his limbs.

Something was watching him.

Time to roll the dice, you know I'm the type Type to risk my life, not afraid to die Type to make you cry, type to put a price All up on your head, do just what I said I'm a straight up villain, straight up villain Yeah, no feeling, yeah, no feeling Straight up villain, straight up villain Yeah, no feeling, yeah, no feeling

“Stop toying around.”

The gravelly voice was met with a cackle, almost cat-like in nature.

That was his only warning before it stepped from the shadows: a creature out of his nightmares, shrouded in darkness like part of the night itself.

Sharpened black claws glinted under the streetlights, and dark black orbs pinned him in place as it slunk forward. He couldn’t move, frozen like a deer in headlights.

The thing was so human-like in shape, but it was too monstrous to be one.

A wicked smile spread across its face, and his face blanched as he caught sight of the fangs protruding from the top.

The creature stalked forward like a predator chasing its prey.

Then, it pounced.

I'm alive, but I'm dead Hear my voice up in your head Watch it fill you full of drеad 'Til you go pow

It was common knowledge within Gotham’s criminal underworld that the Arkham Knight worked alone. He played by his own rules, merciless in his distribution of justice.

But lately, it was rumored that the Knight had an ally.

There was no proof of this, no sightings to go by, but there was a subtle shift that could be felt—an underlying sensation of imminent danger.

Gunfights and confrontations lessened, and the Knight’s enemies started disappearing without a trace. No blood, body, or evidence of struggle could be found; it was as if they had simply ceased to exist.

Whoever this new player was, they were dangerous.

Is it really a surprise if I'm playing with your mind And I treat you likе a prize, then I throw you to the side? And am I really that bad if l love to make you mad? And get happy when you're sad, only care about a bag

Jason shook out his hair, metal helmet in his hands, and leveled a glance at his companion.

“Did you really have to take so long to kill him?”

The two were in one of their few safe houses, recuperating after their long night of fighting.

“It’s the thrill of the chase.”

Marinette, no longer transformed, stated this as if it were obvious—which it was. Jason had been with her long enough to understand her concept of fun. She leaned forward and stretched, looking much like the animal after which her magic ring was themed.

“We can’t waste time playing around. There are more important things to be done,” he growled.

Marinette simply giggled, bounding over to bat her eyes at him with mock innocence.

Jason’s eyes narrowed. “You know what you’re doing.”

Her smile grew wicked, arms darting out to wrap around his waist.

“You look so good when you’re mad,” she purred.

Jason leaned down, and their lips met in a kiss.

In control That's how I like it and I'm never letting go, nah Never had a soul (soul) So you ain't taking nothing from me when you go, nah

Crack.

Marinette smirked as her staff made contact with the target’s skull.

Normally she would use Cataclysm for a more swift kill, but the remains were needed in order to send a message to Arkham Knight’s enemies.

They were growing more volatile, more desperate to expose whatever they thought she was.

Phantom Killer, they called her. The name sounded like something out of a badly-written horror movie. Marinette much preferred the one she had already: Reine de L'ombre.

Of course, she didn’t need a title, but Jason had come up with it. She was pleasantly surprised by his naming skills—it meant Shadow Queen, for she was a queen, and Jason her knight, as he put it.

She didn’t feel any remorse as the pile of bodies below her grew. Perhaps this made her soulless, but she didn’t need one anyway.

Marinette had all she wanted right beside her.

I'll stay so deep inside your brain And take you somewhere far away

“...you do what you gotta do, am I right?”

Marinette nodded at the man standing across from her, a smile on her red-painted lips.

He had been leering at her from across the bar the whole night, and although that was the goal, she was still disgusted. He had to be at least twenty years older than her. Heck, he was old enough to be her dad.

The intel she and Jason had acquired said the businessman had a thing for younger women, which was apparent. According to the same source, the company he ran was also a front for trafficking and drug rings.

Marinette wanted to see him bleed.

“How about we take this to my room?”

The comment was abrupt, and Jason would probably kill her for her indiscretion later, but she was getting tired of the man’s blabbering.

Her hand moved up his arm, the expensive material of his suit cool against her fingers. She bit her lips seductively, which seemed to convince him.

Bingo.

Time to roll the dice, you know I'm the type Type to risk my life, not afraid to die Type to make you cry, type to put a price All up on your head, do just what I said I'm a straight up villain, straight up villain Yeah, no feeling, yeah, no feeling (yeah, yeah) Straight up villain, straight up villain Yeah, no feeling, yeah, no feeling

Marinette gritted her teeth as the man tried to reach for her butt again. 

She attempted to stop him by saying she wanted to wait until they entered her room, but he was persistent. She couldn’t wait to get rid of him.

As soon as she opened the door to her hotel room, she shoved him inside and up against the wall. He seemed to be expecting a kiss, but she punched him hard. For a crime lord he certainly wasn’t a good fighter. Maybe it was the drugs she slipped into his drink earlier that contributed to his quick defeat.

Marinette cuffed his arms behind his back with a pair she had stashed earlier. She could have waited for the man to undress so she could ensure he didn’t have any weapons, but she had gone through enough torture already. Her eyes didn’t need to see that.

She turned him around, giving him a smile that promised warmth and kindness, before pulling out a dagger and pressing it to his throat.

“Now talk.”

I'm alive, but I'm dead Hear my voice up in your head Watch it fill you full of dread 'Til you go pow

“Claws in.”

Marinette’s black suit faded away, revealing her now blood-spattered red dress.

She flopped onto the couch, not bothering to remove her shoes or dirty clothing.

After hours of trying to get information out of the businessman, she only managed to wring a few coded phrases from him. He seemed to only be a figurehead of his shady organization rather than its actual leader.

A Cataclysm later and here she was, back to the drawing board.

“Jay?” Marinette called.

It was unusually quiet in the safe house; usually after solo missions they’d greet one another with a kiss. Now, he was nowhere to be seen.

“Jason?”

Silence.

Marinette huffed. She knew exactly what this was about.

Bang, bang You can do anything No fear, no pain Listen to your brain go Go stupid, go dumb, go stupid and Then we go insane, woah Just do what I say Follow me, I'll lead the way

“Are you jealous?”

Jason whipped his head around, caught off-guard by the appearance of his girlfriend in his doorway. It seemed as if she wasn’t wasting any time.

“I’m not jealous. That guy couldn’t get you if he tried.”

“Then why are you mad?”

His jaw clenched.

He wished he hadn’t agreed to let Marinette extract the information alone; Jason almost wished he was there to see the man in pain.

“He was putting his hands all over you.”

“It was for a mission. Besides, I thought you said he couldn’t get me even if he tried?”

Her last words were said with a lilt, and Jason knew she was riling him up. He couldn’t stay mad, anyway—she had a point.

He deflated and leaned forward to brush his lips against her. Marinette smiled into the kiss, then pulled away. She looked him up and down, a glint in her eyes.

“I guess I’ll have to make it up to you, hmm?”

She paused, then wrinkled her nose.

“After I take a shower. I don’t want this guy’s blood on me any longer.”

Maybe they acted stupid sometimes, but the two always followed one another in the end.

Time to roll the dice, you know I'm the type Type to risk my life, not afraid to die Type to make you cry, type to put a price (Woo-ah) All up on your head, do just what I said I'm a straight up villain, straight up villain Yeah, no feeling, yeah, no feeling Straight up villain, straight up villain (Yeah) Yeah, no feeling, yeah, no feeling (Woo-ah!)

Marinette panted deeply, adrenaline coursing through her veins.

A mass of bodies surrounded her, but she wasn’t paying attention. This wasn’t just a battle. It was war.

It was a fight for her life, and she wasn’t going down now.

Reine de L'ombre tore through her enemies like a terrifying force of darkness, one after the other. The Arkham Knight fought by her side, fueled by pure destruction.

Maybe they wouldn’t make it out, but they wouldn’t go down without a fight.

I'm alive, but I'm dead Hear my voice up in your head Watch it fill you full of dread

'Til you go pow

A week later, a couple rose hand-in-hand from the ranks as new rulers of the Gotham Underworld.

Reine de L'ombre and the Arkham Knight—a queen and her king.

-

PERMANENT TAGLIST @avengerthewarrior @enternalempires @freesportspalacesalad @h1sss @nathleigh

[milkypompon]

𝕁𝕖𝕒𝕝𝕠𝕦𝕤𝕪 ℙ𝕥. 𝟚 | Bokuto x Reader SMUT

𝕀𝕞𝕒𝕘𝕚𝕟𝕖 | How would Bokuto react to a jealous Y/N?

𝔸𝕦𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕣'𝕤 ℕ𝕠𝕥𝕖 | Some of y’all wanted to get deep down and nasty with Bokuto, so here we are… (I HAVEN’T FINISHED TAKING NOTES FOR MY CLASS YET I’M WRITING THIS)

[Warning: female parts used for reader, eating out, captain kink]

.・゜゜・ℙ𝕥. 𝟙 ・゜゜・．

After the whole situation with the wild pack of girls throwing themselves all over Bokuto, you and him walked to your house in silence.

The afternoon sun began to drag down the night sky, painting it with swirls of indigo and purple. Walking home took much longer than usual today because you dragged your feet along the way, which didn’t go unnoticed by your boyfriend.

Bokuto tilted his head towards your way and pursed his lips.

Your eyes were glued to the sight in front of you, refusing to meet his eyes.

“... Y/N” He whispered into your ear. After no reply he decided to try something else. Bokuto suddenly stepped in front of you, causing you to bump into him. Your breath hitched, his familiar scent tickling your nose before pulling back when you remembered the events of a few moments ago.

With your hands on Bokuto’s chest, you tried to push him away, but he quickly caught your wrists with his long fingers. His bright eyes burned holes into yours, slowly darkening as moments of empty words passed by. You chewed your bottom lip at the anticipation.

“Baby, stop giving me the silent treatment or I’ll treat you the same when we fuck tonight,” Bokuto said blatantly as he leaned in a little closer.

You noticed his lips grow agape just the slightest, but enough to feel his hot breath on your face. Being out here in the open, when any fans of his could hear Bokuto whispering such lewd words, made your thighs clench.

He saw this too of course. After all, owls have better vision at night.

“You wanna clench those thighs around my head as I eat ya out?” Bokuto held his gaze, refusing to break such intimate contact.

“I- yes…” You muttered under your breath.

“You gotta use that mouth of yours to make those words a little louder,” Bokuto smirked.

You were already frustrated from earlier, now this was just infuriating.

“I want you to use that fucking tongue and lap up every single drop of my juices, Captain” you said through gritted teeth.

“HEY! HEY! HEY!” He threw up his hands and shouted into the open sky.

That statement was enough to rile up Bokuto and to sling you over his shoulder with ease, despite the weight of his gym bag. He slapped your ass as if he was spiking down a volleyball, a yelp releasing from your lips.

-

With a soft thump, your bum hit Bokuto’s mattress, who had his back facing you as he pulled off his white undershirt tightly hugging the deep valleys of muscles running across his back. The results of his daily routine of lifting obviously paid off from the looks of the biceps bulging through his skin. Just looking at Bokuto’s forearms ornately decorated with a few strands of veins reaching to his hands made your stomach twist.

“You look more excited than me!” You giggled as you propped yourself up on the elbows.

“Well, let’s see about that when I stick my fingers in your pretty little pussy.” He raked his spiked hair back before eyeing you through his profile. “You wanna take off that skirt or do I have to do it myself?”

You returned his snarky question, “After what you did to me earlier, you should at least pay me back with a little bit of acts of service, Koutarou.”

“Shit, baby. Who taught you to run that mouth of yours like that?” Bokuto stepped towards you and pulled your legs down until your knees bent over the mattress. Your head fell softly.

Let’s see how far I can push his buttons.

“From your best friend actually,” You smirked. “Y’know, Akaashi…”

Bokuto bit his lip at the mention of a familiar name. He bent down to bring his large hands to slide under your skirt to grip your thighs roughly, surely leaving marks. He had always been an impatient guy. With all that energy, he had to put it somewhere, so you weren’t surprised when the pad of his thumb ghosted over your clothed heat.

“It feels a little damp down here, love,” Bokuto knelt down to his knees. “Maybe I should inspect it,” He said in a low voice as he pressed into your slit lightly, a whimper slipped past your lips.

“Y-yeah, maybe you should check if there’s something wrong,” You managed to say through suppressed moans, feeling Bokuto’s thumb inching closer to your clothed little nub.

“F-fuck. Stop doing this!” You pushed his chest back with your foot, a giggle came from Bokuto. You unzipped your skirt and tossed it over his head along with your school polo, while his favorite lace bra still clinged onto you.

“Baby, are you impatient for my sincere apology?” Bokuto questioned through half lidded eyes. He pushed your stomach down. “I mean I do wanna get a taste of your sweet pussy…”

Bokuto gripped your knees and spread your legs open, his eyes dripping with lust. He hauled himself forward to hover over your frame, his strong forearms on either side of your head. His lips dipped down to your jawline, whispering into it, “I’m gonna eat you out until you moan my name a thousand times over.”

The hot breath pricked your neck, sending shivers down to your hardening nipples. Bokuto placed a soft kiss next to your luscious lips before driving his knee up to your pussy to gently push into it. You gasped from the contacts allowing him to slither his wet muscle into your warm mouth that his cock knew so well.

Your spit mixed into his creating a forbidden liquid that you both drank feverishly. Bokuto’s lips glistened with a long strand of saliva connecting both of you. He wiped his thumb over yours before licking it.

“That was really hot, captain,” You gasped out trying to catch your breath, your cheeks tinted red.

Bokuto’s eyes widened at the nickname, smirking, he stated, “If you say that again, I’ll make sure to take the reins this whole night.” He shoved his nose into the valley between your breasts.

You knew he’d like that, so you returned his excitement, “You always take control, captain.”

A muffled, “Hell yeah” reached your ears.

Bokuto snaked his fingers behind your back to skillfully unclasp your lace bra. When both of you started an intimate relationship, his first attempt of removing your bra was a complete failure that ended with giggles and a pouting Koutarou. But now, after months of experience, he could unclasp it with closed eyes.

He tossed the bra behind the other articles of clothing, now lying around forgotten. You felt your nipples harden even more as Bokuto’s breath breathed on it before using his tongue to swirl around the little pebble. Your writhed under him. Bokuto, not liking the squirming, glided his calloused hands on your sides before gripping it.

“You gotta stay still,” He whispered into your neck.

“Mmhm!” You hummed. “C-can you move a little further down?”

He knew what you wanted. How could he not when everytime he slid wandering fingers near your nether area, you’d moan in delight.

“Let me just drink up this moment, my dove,” Bokuto giggled in between the soft kisses he placed on your stomach. Inching closer and closer to where it should be.

You inhaled sharply when a pair of warm lips pushed into your tight panties. A hand subconsciously flew to grasp Bokuto’s hair.

“R-right there, baby,” You mewled out, trying to bite down your groans because you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing that this was already turning the gears in your head.

Bokuto hooked his thumbs on your soaking panty, pulling down and off of you. He gripped it in his hand and inhaled deeply to take in the sweet scent of your essence. Without hesitation, he licked the cum before stuffing it in his gym shorts pocket, a questioning look arising on your face.

“Just making sure I have a trophy, so I can remember how good I ate you out,” He beamed. You grinned. “Well you better get started then-”

You bit your lip as you suddenly felt Bokuto’s wet tongue glide along your slit in one long swoop.

He brought his large hand to caress your breast, fondling it, occasionally giving your hard nipples a quick pinch. His free hand spread your pussy apart with cum webbed inside of it.

Bokuto leaned into your quivering pussy, lapping up the essence you were releasing for him. His tongue probed through every part of you, trying to get a taste. Causing his nose to nudge the sensitive nub, a moan scratched your throat.

You felt him smirk into you, knowing what was next, yet you could never prepare for it. He pulled his hand away from your breast and used it to pin your hips down. Bokuto nipped at your clit, your legs quivered at the sharp pain, but the feeling spiraled into a feeling of lewd satisfaction as he continued.

You wrapped your thighs around his head, trying to jut your hips forward for more friction. Bokuto bit the inside of your thigh harshly, pricking your supple skin.

“What the hell was that for!” You groaned.

“I told you, I get to take the reins,” Bokuto’s words vibrated into you. He threw your legs over his shoulders, the position giving him better leverage to bury his face into you.

Bokuto gave your clit a final squeeze, this time a pinch from his fingers. He gauged your wetness, knowing it was enough to take at least two fingers. Without a warning, he plunged a pair of digits into your hole, stretching it open as he scissored his way through. Each up and down motion made his fingers come in contact with your pulsating walls, as if threatening to keep it in there.

“More! I need more!” That’s all you could chant apparently.

“Say the magic word,” Bokuto teased delightfully.

“I NEED MORE, CAPTAIN,” You squealed.

He probed in a third finger, all working together to thrust in and out of your soaking hole. Each movement produced forbidden sounds of squelching cum inside of you.

Sweat trickled down your forehead as you gasped uncontrollably at Bokuto’s speed. His other hand joined in to roughly push around your swollen clit. The feeling causing the knot in your stomach to twist tighter.

“I’M ALMOST-”

Bokuto thrusted in once more into you, finally feeling your warm walls clench around his fingers. Your back arched as you squeezed your boobs at the peak of the sensation. Moans and a final gasp rang inside of Bokuto’s ears, knowing that he did a job well done.

Carefully, he moved his white ooze covered fingers out of you, giving your stomach feather-light kisses to soothe the knot that was just undone.

“So, do you forgive me now?”

𝔼𝕟𝕕 ℕ𝕠𝕥𝕖 | ngl, writing shit like this makes me feel a different way, if you know what I mean... 

[what-if-nct]

Hi!!!

Not NCT related, but I wanted to share that I started a new(?) job! New has a "?" because I've worked for this company before but this is a different location. I'm excited because my last job was in the automotive industry and what I look like??

Anywho! It was kind of bittersweet because I liked my old coworkers. My work bestie was a man old enough to be my dad but we clicked very well (I'm a fire sign and he's air so it makes sense ig lol). But he did say how busted it was that no one gave me a going away party when they gave another girl who was there half the time I was one. I told him I didn't really mind, which I didn't, but what sucks is everyone was busy with customers so I didn't get a proper good bye with anyone. One guy that I had liked, and had a VERY tumultuous relationship with, had asked me to stay for a bit longer before I left for orientation at the new job. Unfortunately, I had to go before he came back, but he had texted me that he wanted to hug me goodbye one last time and tbh I really wanted one kiss, since we were always close to it but never got to. Now I feel awkward trying to set things up to arrange them but it's getting very "the one that got away" in here...but I will live! Now I'm focusing on establishing myself as a true adult and working towards going back to school and getting my first apartment!

Your blog has also provided me with so much joy during this crazy time of my life, and the chaos has actually helped influence me to take things by the reins and force the course I want in life. By the power of Renjun and Chenle I even developed some backbone from my people pleasing ways! Never stop being the precious maniacal genius that you are and live your best life 💗

Hiiii! Congratulations on the newish job, I really hope it brings you everything your looking for. And your coworkers sound so sweet and they care about you so much. And here's the thing about the ones that got away. They always come back, from personal experience they always return when you least expect it. So make the most of that return when it happens, when you have the opportunity. Take it honey, okay. Don't be like 19 year old me, she was stupid. He was right there, could have had me a blonde surfer bf but I ruined it. Anyway, it makes me immensely happy that this weird little place on Tumblr influenced you in that way. I really love that. Sometimes you gotta bring out your inner Renjun, Chenle or Yuta. They're the most powerful energies to call in. You are so adorable and I hope only great things happen for you and you live your best boss babe life and get everything you want.

[apples-stables]

(I got a Jorvik Wild Horse today finally, and I love her so much she inspired me to write a lil story about how her and Kit met.)

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: None ------

I couldn’t help but let out a laugh as Novamoon pranced around Athena, who was snorting and shaking her head in playful frustration.

“How do you guys always win? I was practicing smashing those pots all night!”

Rocco snorted. “Yeah and we’re gonna run out of pots soon if you keep going at that rate.”

Athena threw her head back. “Yeah, well I’m sure Kit can make some more. She knows how to do everything.”

My eyes widened a little as both horses turned to look at me. “I wouldn’t say I can do everything…” I tilted my head, thinking for a moment. “Ya know, I do know a place or two where I might be able to find some fairly smashable things that people don’t need anymore…”

“See! Everything!” Athena said, stamping the ground.

Novamoon shook her head and I could practically feel her teasing me. “Shush Nova,” I grumbled, rubbing her behind her ear. She nickered at me, but leaned into the touch anyways.

I turned to look at Rocco, about to ask him a question about what smashable items they might need, when I noticed Gary approaching from over the hill. I twisted a bit further to see him, and Nova turned her head as well to see what I was looking at.

“Gary!” Athena cried out happily, galloping over to him.

Gary laughed as Athena did a lap around him before skidding to a halt in front of him. “Hello little one. My, have you gotten bigger since I last visited?”

Athena straightened up, trying to stand as tall as she could. “I have. I’m definitely big enough to go to the Gray World now, I think.”

Rocco nudged Athena with his head. “Didn’t we agree you needed to beat Kit in the smashing contest first?”

“But I was so close this time,” Athena whined, twisting her head to look back at Rocco. “That’s gotta count for something, right?”

Gary smiled patiently at Athena. “How about we wait just a little bit longer? I promise I will take you when I feel the time is right. I just want to make sure you find exactly the right person at the right moment.”

Athena sighed. “Okaayy.”

“Speaking of the time being right,” Gary started, looking back at me again. “Kit, you were just the person I was hoping to see today.”

“I was?” I asked, furrowing my eyebrows in confusion.

A relaxed smile spread across Gary’s face. “Indeed you were. Come along,” he turned around, gesturing to follow. “I have something to talk to you about.”

I hesitated for only a moment before nudging Nova forward, keeping up with Gary’s casual pace as he led us back to where he’d parked his cart. As we crested the hill, I noticed something move behind Gary’s covered wagon. I leaned to the side, off of Nova, trying to get a glimpse at what was back there.

I heard a laugh in front of me, and I quickly righted myself. Too quickly, actually. I tightened my grip on the reins a bit, my legs clenching tighter to Nova. She snorted, stomping her feet as I tried to find my balance again.

Gary laughed again, covering his mouth with his hand for a moment as he tried to compose himself. “I see you spotted her.”

“Her?” I glanced back, trying to see the movement again.

Gary came to a stop and let out a short whistle. I woahed Nova as I saw a head peer out from behind his wagon.

“You can come out if you’d like Daychaser, this is the one I was telling you about.”

I found myself sliding off of Nova’s saddle before I realized it as a horse, Daychaser, took a few slow steps out from her hiding spot. I took a step forward as well, looking her over as she came further into view.

She was a soft buckskin with black markings on her, stripes covering her rump and hind legs. She had white and yellow flowers woven into her braided mane. She had light white swirls painted under her left eye and her hair waved softly in the light breeze.

“Hi, my name is Kit,” I said, offering a hand out.

Daychaser took a few more steps forward. “My name is Daychaser, I’m a Forester.” Her tail swished, an ear twitching, showcasing her anxiety. She stretched her neck forward and sniffed my hand for a moment before pulling back.

I lowered my hand gently. “I like the flowers in your mane. They’re very pretty.”

Daychaser straightened up just slightly, turning her head from side to side to show off the flowers better. “Thank you,” she nickered, swishing her head, making her mane ruffle. “Juniper helped me put these in, making sure they stay fresh.”

I smiled. “My horse, Dreamweaver, also loves flowers and braids. And Nova here really loves feathers, so I’m definitely familiar with that.”

Nova huffed behind me. I glanced back and saw her turning her head to also show off her mane, revealing the maroon and black feathers I had woven in there a few days ago.

I glanced back at Daychaser just as she looked away from Nova and back at me. “How many horses are you befriended to?”

“Well, this is Nova, and at my stable I have Echo, Dreamweaver, Darkfrost, Twilight, and Ghostrunner.” I said, counting on my fingers as I went.

“You must be kind then, to have so many trust you.”

I smiled, cheeks pinkening as I glanced away for a moment. “I… I think I am, kind that is. I try my best to be. Honestly, having their trust is an honor to me.”

Daychaser looked over my shoulder, and I turned my head to look as well as Gary stepped closer.

“Well, Kit, you might have guessed this already but Daychaser here has been hoping to go into the Gray World. She’s been looking for the right person for a few weeks now, and after thinking about it, I thought you would be the right choice.”

My eyes widened. “Really?” I whipped my head back to look at Daychaser, who had taken a step closer to me. I beamed and reached over to rub her nose, which made her close her eyes and push into my touch.

“Would you really like to come with me?” I asked, voice a bit quieter.

Daychaser opened her eyes and pulled back slightly. “I like what I see in you, even though I’ve seen so little, and I’d like to see more in the future, if you’ll accept me as well.”

I nodded before she finished her thought. “Yes, of course. I’m so…” I took in a small breath, not able to find the right words before I just nodded some more. “I actually always carry a spare lead with me, cause you never know what will happen. Are you wanting to leave today? Or should I come back tomorrow or some other time even?”

Her head tilted when I mentioned a lead, but she didn’t ask about it. “I would like to say one last goodbye to some horses, but they already knew today might be my day so a lot of goodbyes were said earlier as well.”

“Would you like me to wait here, or come with you?”

“I wouldn’t mind if you joined. Then my herd will get to see that I will be in good hands, and they know I will return someday as well.”

She glanced at me, and I nodded rapidly again. “Of course you’ll return someday. I love coming here. Besides, Athena still hasn’t beaten me at pot smashing.”

Daychaser laughed, shaking her head and I couldn’t help but giggle as well.

“Well,” Gary said, interrupting our merth, “it seems like everything is settled here. Daychaser, you couldn’t be in better hands. I am glad you found a match in Kit.”

“Thank you for helping me,” Daychaser said, dipping her head down.

“And thank you for trusting me,” I said as well, voice a bit softer.

Gary placed a hand on my shoulder and squeezed gently. “You have a wonderful spark in you, Kit, don’t let that ever die out.”

“I won’t.” I promised.

Gary smiled and took a step back. “Well, unfortunately I must go back to the Gray World, now that my work here for the moment is done. May our paths cross again soon.”

As he walked back to his wagon, I turned back to Daychaser. “Are you ready?”

Daychaser nodded.

I beamed, grabbing onto Nova’s saddle as I jumped back onto her. “Great, I know the way, so would you like to trot back together?”

“I would like that.”

“Cool! On the way, you should show me where you got those flowers, so we know where to find them next time.”

I glanced to the side and saw Daychaser’s eyes twinkle. “Happily.”

[queenpersephonesgarden]

together through the dark (dawn is still a long way off)

Dream SMP, Rated G, 3.4k, chapter 1 of ??

Summary: Fundy's family is messed up and painfully complicated as it is, with betrayal and heartbreak and death separating them on too many sides of too many wars to count. He should be grateful the attempt to revive his father failed, that Wilbur isn't here to make things worse.

But he isn't. And that pitiful heart might just be their undoing.

Or: Phil tried and failed twice to bring Wilbur back himself. Fundy succeeded without even wanting to try.

Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Accidental Resurrection, therapy arc let's go, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, it's gonna take a bit for Phil and Tommy to get involved in this ngl, if the CCs ever have a problem with this let me know and it'll be gone, bro do you ever start writing a fic only for canon to start stealing your ideas, Canon-typical swearing, Brief description of injury, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit are Not Biological Siblings, but that doesn't mean Found Family doesn't exist, They/Them Pronouns for Eret (Video Blogging RPF)

Can be read on AO3 (link will be in the notes)

The moon and the first of the stars had begun to peek over the horizon by the time they’d finally admitted defeat.

The mismatched crowd that had gathered for the spectacle of an attempted resurrection had begun the long trek down the Prime Path back to the Greater SMP, chatter finally respectfully subdued where before it had been badly contained manic chaos throughout the entire afternoon. Everyone seemed to have noticed the somber mood that had engulfed Philza, and had reined themselves in appropriately.

Fundy had lagged further and further behind, jittery with some unexplainable emotion.

It had failed.

The resurrection had been a waste of time all along, so-

He should be happy, right?

He was. He was glad Wilbur wasn’t coming back. He was glad to be spared from his father’s tumultuous presence for another day.

Hell, he was relieved.

… right?

But – But walking back, watching Ghostbur smile and murmur something comforting to the silly little sheep trailing beside him, seeing Philza’s melancholic smile, feeling the weight of Tommy’s pointed silence – it’s all suffocating.

If he follows for one more step, he’s going to end up saying or doing something he’ll regret.

No one notices when he stops tagging along – which is just typical, a nasty little part of his brain thinks – no one at all.

No one except for Eret, who darts a glance over their shoulder and almost doubles back, expression plainly worried.

Fundy quickly shook his head and shrugged, reluctant to disrupt the dejected parade and draw attention to himself.

Eret, Prime bless them, seems to understand without a word. They smile, nod, and carry on after the others.

Their door will be open later for him, he knew. If he came back soon enough, he’d even have someone available to rant to if need be.

Just the knowledge of that is a huge relief to Fundy. Eret always seems to get him when he’s in these moods, and even when they don’t, they’re always at least willing to listen.

Which is more than could be said for the rest of Fundy’s family.

And that wonderful thought is an excellent segue way into an immediate downward spiral. Fundy shakes himself hard to rid himself of the impulse to follow that down the rabbit hole. He predictably fails miserably.

Focus, dammit.

Except what else is there to focus on? The botched attempt to bring his crazy dad back to life?

Oh, hey, that’s not good for his mental health either. Great.

Fundy spins right around and starts stomping back up the Path without a single care how immature it might seem or who might see it, headed straight back where they’d come from.

He walks steadily across the glass carefully immortalizing the greatest disaster that had befallen the SMP so far, making sure not to look down for longer than a few seconds. He makes it back to the bizarre little revival shrine in record time without a host of noisy spectators slowing him down, just in time to avoid the slight drizzle the cloudy sky had been threatening the entire latter half of the afternoon.

He steps very carefully onto the blue and yellow brickwork, eyes trailing over the uncomfortably familiar little offerings placed all over like the world’s worst interior design project, before he reaches the middle and has to bite down hard on his cheek to prevent the litany of swear words wanting to escape his mouth.

Philza hung the sword on the wall, before he left.

Just- just put it up there, like it’s no big deal, like it’s a fucking prop, like it isn’t the sword he used to stab his son, Fundy’s father.

Nope. Nope, nope, Fundy isn’t okay with this.

He grabs the handle and pulls it down, and that’s as far as his planning goes. He’s left standing there like a fool holding his father’s murder weapon, heavily debating the pros and cons of either putting it down on the floor so it at least doesn’t look like a reward, or giving up entirely on composure and screaming and throwing it down into the ugly scar in the earth outside. Let it rot in the bedrock with the rest of his father’s legacy where Fundy will never have to look at it again.

But before he can decide which is the option less likely to leave him crying his eyes out to Eret later tonight, a gentle voice echoes behind him. “What are you doing, Fundy?”

Fundy straightens involuntarily upon recognizing that voice, and turns automatically. “Wil- er, Ghostbur?” He almost moves to hide the hideous thing behind his back, but Ghostbur is already floating there staring and that really would be the end of his dignity, so he just lets it hang awkwardly from one hand. “Why are you here? Did you follow me?”

Never mind the tiny stupid feeling in his chest, fluttering in excitement at being noticed.

Ghostbur hummed curiously, carefully shaking water droplets from the rain off of his steaming hands. “Hmm? Oh, no. I mean, I noticed you were gone and all, but I didn’t know you’d be here. I just came back myself, that’s all.”

Hope squashed. Fundy nodded with a hum of his own, face carefully neutral.

“So what are you doing?” Ghostbur repeated, and suddenly having an audience just makes Fundy feel very, very stupid.

His ears flattened against his skull as he stuttered a reply, “W-well, you know, I just thought, well I mean it seemed, it was just, I. Uh.”

Ghostbur tilted his head innocently. Fundy wanted to sink into the bricks under his feet.

Fundy holds out his free hand and gestured emphatically. “What are you doing here?”

Master of changing the subject, he is.

Luckily, with Ghostbur, it doesn’t really matter how dumb the change of subject is, he just rolls right along with it. “Oh, well, Phil and Tommy both went back through the Nether Portal to head home, so I didn’t really know who to follow. They were both a bit sad, so I gave them some blue, but Phil still looked upset so I- I thought maybe I’d come back here one more time, just to see if I could remember anything else that might help.”

Fundy didn’t even bother trying to disguise the bitterness in his voice when he snorted. “Well, that was a nice thought, but I doubt any memories you have of this room could make Phil less upset.”

Ghostbur smiled emptily, pulling a bit of blue out of one pocket to cup in both hands, and immediately Fundy feels awful. Being sassy to Ghostbur never feels satisfying or rebellious, just cruel.

Grimacing, Fundy glared down at his own bit of blue, too large and shaped like the world’s ugliest sword, tamping down on equally ugly feelings in his chest. “But you can do whatever you want, I won’t stop you. I’m just, glad you’re not planning to go through with an unannounced midnight resurrection to surprise us all in the morning with, or something.”

“Oh, you don’t have to worry about that anymore.”

Fundy blinked and looked back up. “Huh?”

Ghostbur shrugged and smiled nervously. “Oh, you know. Things change, given time. Places, people… decisions… you know? People change their minds all the time! Especially when it’s a really important or dangerous decision! And it usually works out just fine!”

It took a second for his meaning to get through. When it finally did, Fundy suddenly felt rather cold

“So, wait. You’re saying you… don’t want to be revived anymore?”

Ghostbur worried his tiny bit of blue between his fingers, shoulders slowly inching up towards his ears. “N- well- I don’t- I don’t think so? No, I don’t think so, Fundy. I’m sorry.”

Sorry? Really?

“Why would you need to be sorry?” Fundy asked, voice a bit too loud even in his own ears.

Ghostbur grew even more tense, his hands kneading the blue even faster as he ducked his head. “I just- well, I know Phil was disappointed, even when he didn’t say anything. He gets this look on his face when he- Anyway, Tommy was, was saying some things about Wilbur, and- that place I fell into was just awf- And, and I just- I just thought that-”

The ghost’s stammering became more and more incomprehensible, slowly fading out in that way it usually did when Ghostbur was starting to forget something.

Watching his expression become quietly distressed was painful in more ways than one, so Fundy cut him off. “It’s okay Ghostbur, you don’t gotta explain yourself if it hurts.”

If anything, his attempt at consolation only made Ghostbur more upset, dammit. “But that’s just it, Fundy! If, if it hurts for me, it must hurt so much more for everyone else!” He cradled his head in his hands like it hurt.

“Everyone was so excited today, everyone was working together, even after you and Phil had that falling out-”

Fundy flinched. He wouldn’t exactly describe being banished at sword point from Philza’s Arctic base without even a chance to try and explain himself as a simple ‘falling out’-

“-you still both came and no one was arguing and, and Eret was going to apologize and finally talk things over with Wilbur, and it was perfect but-”

Ghostbur’s face was wretched as his hands dropped, the picture of abject misery. “But it didn’t work, and that place was so empty, and I- I just don’t think I can do it, Fundy. I don’t want to go back there. I’m so so sorry.”

Fundy swallowed hard.

“That’s fine, Ghostbur,” and fuck, why was his throat so tight, why were his eyes stinging, “Nobody’s gonna force you if you don’t want to.”

The little ghost looks so pathetically grateful in that moment that Fundy has to turn away, has to look anywhere else lest something mortifying comes out of his mouth.

But his brain is a dirty traitor, so his eyes land back on the shitty sword, and all he can do is try to process.

Should he be angry to hear that?

Should he be relieved to hear that?

Fundy isn’t sure. He never really knows how he should feel, when Ghostbur is around.

On one hand, that’s his father, and a good day with his father back when he was alive was a day where talking to him – or arguing with him, more often than not – didn’t make Fundy angry enough that he couldn’t think straight for an hour.

On the other hand, Ghostbur can’t remember many of those days, good or bad. From what he’s said in the past, his memories of Fundy are all the scattered bright spots of their lives together; the day Fundy was born, the day they chose his name, their days in L’Manburg, little snippets here and there of jokes and teasing that had still been lighthearted, before a war and a presidency and a betrayal made all of their casual jabs carry jagged edges they hadn’t before.

Ghostbur is kind, and cheerful, and always wonderfully, terribly happy whenever Fundy is around to visit and talk to. A stark contrast to Fundy’s memories of the last few months of his father’s life, where the man was sullen, snappish, giddy and half-crazed one moment, menacingly calm and collected the next.

It’s an incredibly disquieting thing to think about, so Fundy doesn’t very often. Now, of course, he can’t help it; standing here, in this macabre, borderline cartoonish little shrine filled with all of the things that slowly drove the man into the grave, it’s impossible not to think of all the things that make the ghost of him so much better. And so much worse.

Because Ghostbur isn’t his father, and that is equally both a blessing and a curse.

Every conversation he has with Ghostbur just leaves Fundy feeling frustrated and a bit guilty, the two emotions spinning a waltz right in the middle of his guts until they’re twisted into knots.

Ghostbur’s entire existence is frustrating, but even in Fundy’s worst moods, he’s never wished ill on him.

In the end, all of these feelings of betrayal and heartbreak and anger are all Fundy’s alone to remember.

And that’s totally fine.

Yep.

Ghostbur was never actually involved with any of Fundy’s worst memories, so it wasn’t his job to try and fix anything between them.

It’s just on Fundy to deal with it.

And he can definitely do that.

Definitely.

Just, maybe some other time or somewhere else, far away from the stone that had once been stained with his father’s blood, with his literal murder weapon not in his hands.

Staring down at it right now is not doing Fundy’s emotional state any favors, thanks.

He breathes out unsteadily, holding the damn thing out horizontally with both hands, rather tempted to do- something unpleasant to it.

“Fundy?” Ghostbur asks from too close and very far away, voice echoing with confusion and worry. “Are you okay?”

But Fundy isn’t really listening.

He doesn’t want to accuse Ghostbur of anything when he doesn’t even know what he’s feeling. Arguing with Phil accomplishes diddly-fucking-squat.

But maybe-

He’s not really sure what he intends to do in the moment his grip tightens – the loud, stupid traitor part of his brain that always insists he yells louder during an argument to get his point across (as if anyone would actually listen) is clamoring for him to snap it over his knee like a twig, never mind how impossible that is with literal diamond – but it doesn’t really matter.

He is abruptly reminded why it is a rather bad idea to grab a sword by the blade end without reinforced gloves.

“Ah! Hell!”

Fundy curses vehemently under his breath, relaxing his grip quickly before he can do something even more stupid.

And then-

“Oh.”

He says it so softly.

Not scared, or sad, or panicked.

Ghostbur approaches and sees blood welling in between Fundy’s fingers, and he blinks like he just took a wrong step in a dark tunnel, and finally realized which way home was.

Blood drips down Fundy’s fingers and on to the sword, carving a path down where his father was run through, and drip-drops onto the ground still stained blue with evidence of a failed resurrection.

“Oh,” Ghostbur repeats quietly, and blinks out of existence.

“Wha-?!” Fundy jolts in surprise, which, ow, fuck, nearly slices his damn fingers off. He flings his empty hand further away from the diamond blade’s razor edge-

-just in time for Ghostbur to flicker back into view.

“Jesus Chr- dude! Hasn’t Tommy ever told you not to go invisible without warning like that?!” Fundy has to remind himself not to yell, because the ghost of his father he might be, he doesn’t actually want to start a fight right now.

Ghostbur doesn’t start stammering apologies immediately, doesn’t rush forward with a little bit of blue bandage to help Fundy feel better, doesn’t mumble in worry about forgetting something again because someone got hurt.

Maybe any of those should have been the first clue.

But Fundy doesn’t notice those clues right away, grimacing down at his bloody hand and looking for somewhere to put the damn sword that isn’t on the rack like some terrible trophy or on top of a stack of dynamite (why would they choose dynamite of all things to symbolize his father his traitor brain demands, why did Philza allow that, he should know better than anyone that guitars and books and warm sweaters would have done the trick of luring Wilbur in, that they had always made dad happiest back when he was younger and happier and not clawing at the walls of a tunnel and threatening to blow up the home he’d founded and built for himself and his friends and Fundy-).

“What?”

Fundy half spins, still looking for a suitable place to put the stupid fucking sword, looks up-

- sees a tall silhouette and his vision blurs for just a second; he blinks hard, shakes his head-

- does a double-take and freezes.

At the first glance, he was exactly the same as he was before; bright yellow sweater stained blue in a gruesome approximation of the fatal wound that took his last life over plain black pants, hair hidden by a beanie older than Fundy has even been alive, pale like snow with circles dark enough to be bruises underneath his eyes.

He was the same as he always is, except not anymore, because Fundy can actually see him. And he’s standing.

Not see through him. Not at a dull, washed out copy of the man that made a rather poor show of raising him. Not floating just slightly above the ground like he should be.

That’s not Ghostbur at all.

Fundy sees Wilbur, eyes wide and face entirely slack with shock, with skin flushed just slightly with color rather than lifelessly white.

He’s standing right there where Ghostbur used to be, not transparent, not desaturated,  not- not dead.

Is he dead? He should be. Why is he not-?

For one silent moment the world stands frozen on the edge of a knife, the two locked in a disbelieving staring contest.

Fundy blinks first. The man that should be a ghost is still not see-through, and full of more color than he should be.

The world has utterly ceased to make any sense.

Fundy’s fingers went numb.

Metal clanged unnoticed as that awful, ugly sword bounced off a brewing stand and hit the ground, splashing unremarkably into a puddle of mud.

Dead silence is left in its wake, broken only by the patter of rain that is suddenly so very far away.

Wilbur swayed a little on his feet. His face slowly contorted, warping Ghostbur’s final expression of gentle surprise into quiet, pained horror. His hands rose to press shaking fingers against his middle, where the appalling reminder of his violent end had always freely dribbled blue down his front like paint.

Fundy gaped back in response, ears ringing, heart pounding too fast and painful in his ribs, black spots eating at the corners of his vision- what is- why-

A slow, startled inhale became a choked, ragged gasp.

The specter that might have been a man stumbled.

Hurt and betrayal, anger and hatred; it all tumbled right out of Fundy’s spinning head.

One unsteady step forward-

- Wilbur’s knees buckled-

-and Fundy ran.

-.-.-

Miles and miles away in a place too dark too small too quiet, the walls glittered sickly in the light of magma sluggishly dripping over the only exit; a sticky, uncomfortable heat flooded the room only to be sucked away by the volcanic glass encasing it.

The room was utterly barren except for two things; a chest, and the resident seated upon it.

A lone young man sat hunched forward in the not-light of the lava-reflecting obsidian and stared blankly at the dark, dark walls around him.

Too still.

Too stiff.

Too quiet, quiet, quiet for far, far too long; all day, every day, ever since his favorite visitor had escaped and he’d been left all alone with nothing to play with again.

If someone were to look in at him, they might not even think he was breathing. Perhaps they would question, then, what the point was of such an elaborate cell for nothing more than a corpse.

But then-

-cold diamond slice through skin, warm blood drip-drip down, death become life again-

a movement, finally.

The young man’s blond head jerked upright, like a shock, like it was the first time in a long time that he had blinked awake.

His hungry green gaze swept his cell and fixed on the death trap that should have been a door, beyond even that, past weeping obsidian walls and wide empty fields, past the broad stretch of a long, long road to a country now lay in ruin, to a room of broken walls painted with the hope and suffering of the fathers and sons of one particular family.

For the first time in weeks, the young man’s eyes came to life with something beyond sheer boredom.

For the first time in an age, the god hidden under his skin did the same.

Dream and the shadow that shared his name stared wordlessly at the strange family reunion for one long heartbeat, then two.

Neither blinked.

They just tilted their head, curiosity personified; the closest either would come to admitting some semblance of surprise.

“Huh.”

[swordlesbean]

this means war | 80s catradora mega mixtape [listen]

track listing and lyric selections under the cut

tape 1: raised on you

| 01 shadows of the night pat benatar |

we're running with the shadows of the night / so baby, take my hand, it'll be all right / surrender all your dreams to me tonight / they'll come true in the end

| 02 the best tina turner |

give me a life time of promises and a world of dreams / speak the language of love like you know what it means / it can't be wrong / take my heart and make it strong, baby / you're simply the best, better than all the rest

| 03 right by your side eurythmics |

give me two strong arms to protect myself / give me so much love that i forget myself / i need to be right by your side

| 04 wish upon me suzi quatro |

wish upon me / count on me to infinity / my love will be here / when the stars burn out / so reach out and touch me

| 05 raised on you heart |

let's go tell the world / to quit turning cold / just let me be raised on you / don't have to change just now / we can laugh about the load

| 06 everywhere fleetwood mac |

i'll speak a little louder / i'll even shout / you know that i'm proud and i can't get the words out / oh, i wanna be with you everywhere

| 07 only you yazoo |

all i needed was the love you gave / all i needed for another day / and all i ever knew / only you

tape 2: falling out

| 01 the last beat of my heart siouxsie & the banshees |

reach out your hands / don't turn your back / don't walk away / how in the world can i wish for this never to be torn apart? / close to you till the last beat of my heart

| 02 don’t turn around bonnie tyler |

i'm gonna be strong / i'm gonna do fine / don't worry about this heart of mine / just walk out that door / yeah, see if I care / go on and go now but don't turn around / cause you're gonna see my heart breaking

| 03 falling out kim wilde |

what can i say now after all is said and done / you cut me up in pieces when the shooting first begun / what did i do to you to make you turn away? / cause now there's nothing left for me / there's nothing i can say

| 04 borderline madonna |

you let me down, when i look around / baby, you just can't be found / stop driving me away, i just want to stay / i've given all i can / cause you got the best of me / borderline / feels like i'm going to lose my mind

| 05 love is a battlefield pat benatar |

you're begging me to go / then making me stay / why do you hurt me so bad? / it would help me to know / do i stand in your way? / or am i the best thing you've had?

| 06 i call your name roxette |

i close the door behind me, and i turn the lights all down / there's no one there beside me, i call your name

| 07 who will you run to heart |

you're sure the life you're living with me / can't go on one single minute / and there's a new one waiting outside this door / and now's the time to begin it / you found a new world / and you want to taste it / but that world can turn cold / and you better face it / who will you run to when it all falls down?

| 08 get up and go the go-go’s |

i was on the inside / looking out for you / but you're the one to make the change / there's nothing i can do / now's the time for you to move / actions shout out loud

| 09 stop draggin’ my heart around stevie nicks ft. tom petty & the heartbreakers |

i know you really want to tell me goodbye / i know you really want to be your own girl / baby, you could never look me in the eye / yeah, you buckle with the weight of the world / stop draggin’ my heart around

| 10 breakdown grace jones |

it's okay if you must go / i'll understand if you don't / you say goodbye right now / i'll still survive somehow / why should we let this drag on?

| 11 edge of a broken heart vixen |

it won't be easy, but i've got to be strong / and if i wanna cry i don't need your shoulder / i been living on the edge of a broken heart / don't you wonder why i gotta say goodbye

tape 3: moth to a flame

| 01 i love playing with fire joan jett & the blackhearts |

i love playing with fire / i don't wanna get burned / i love playing with fire / don't think i'll ever learn

| 02 action reaction missing persons |

action reaction, the girl knows just what to do / action reaction, she gets some reaction from you / she's gonna take you by surprise / she's gonna hit you right between the eyes

| 03 bring your love down (didn’t i) yazoo |

if you think you need a change / well, i'm sure we can arrange for you to get on your own for a while / but i don't need to worry, cause you'll get back in a hurry / i know that you like my style / you play your games but the fact remains / i'm the only one that can hold your reins

| 04 moth to a flame olivia newton-john |

here again drawn like a moth to a flame / an invisible force pulling me close to you / i can't break free / there's some kind of hold over me / like a magnet, you attract me like steel

| 05 who’s that girl madonna |

she's trouble, in a word get closer to the fire / run faster, her laughter burns you up inside / you're spinning round and round / you can't get up, you try but you can't

| 06 regrets eurythmics |

i've got a delicate mind / i've got a dangerous nature / and my fist collides with your furniture / i'm an electric wire / and i'm stuck inside your head

| 07 who’s problem? the motels |

so, whose problem am i / whose problem am i / whose problem am i / if i'm not yours?

| 08 state of mind suzi quatro |

fire burning in my heart / tearing me apart / you're the fire / you knocked my defenses down / bare as the day i was born / you're the one

| 09 breakdown girlschool |

i'm gonna make you understand / that i've seen it all before / i twist your mind and break your heart / and you still come back for more

| 10 long time joan jett & the blackhearts |

you can always wake the beast in me / that's the thing that never lets me be / it's gonna take a long time / to get you off of my mind

| 11 winter kills yazoo |

pain / in your eyes / makes me cruel / makes me spiteful / tears are delightful / welcome your nightfall / how winter kills / i tear at you, searching for / weaker seams

tape 4: goodbye to you

| 01 cat-o’-nine-tails L7 |

you're scratching me, baby / right down to my heart / claw the couch now that we're apart / think i'm allergic

| 02 had enough joan jett & the blackhearts |

you rain storm cloud / you ain't no friend / don't wanna see your face again / had enough of you / you ain't for me

| 03 winning the war ‘til tuesday |

you fight just for the sake of it / you know what hurts the most / you might have once been faking it / but now it cuts too close / winning the war and losing every battle / you close the door on happy ever after

| 04 cry wolf stevie nicks |

you can try, but you can't get me into the fire / cause i'm all out of sympathy / and, baby, i can't walk this wire / find yourself somebody new / to catch you when you fall

| 05 thorn in my side eurythmics |

to run away from you / was all that i could do / thorn in my side / you know that's all you'll ever be / so don't think you know better / cause that's what you mean to me

| 06 state i’m in bananarama |

can we carry on / or must we still pretend / that we're really friends / those feelings have gone / but we're not the same / and we're both to blame / there's nothing left to tell you / nothing left to give you

| 07 goodbye to you scandal feat. patty smyth |

baby, it's over now / no need to talk about it / it's not the same / my love for you's just not the same / and my heart can't stand the strain / goodbye to you

| 08 this means war joan jett & the blackhearts |

it hurts me so to fight with you / but since you closed the door / this means war, and you will see it's senseless / this means war, and soon you'll be defenseless / cause you can't win this war

| 09 harden my heart quarterflash |

darling, in my wildest dreams, i never thought i'd go / but it's time to let you know / i'm gonna harden my heart / i'm gonna swallow my tears / i'm gonna turn and leave you here

| 10 don’t watch me bleed ‘til tuesday |

i guess you gave as good as you got / i guess this love is dead at last / but i paid such a lot / don't just kiss me goodbye / don't watch me bleed

tape 5: change of heart

| 01 change of heart cyndi lauper |

here i am just like i said i would be / i'm your friend just like you think it should be / did you think i would stand here and lie / while our moment was passing us by / oh, i am here waiting for your change of heart / it just takes a beat to turn it around

| 02 sorry me, sorry you jefferson starship |

out on the edge / such a dangerous place to be / when darkness falls / and you got no way to see / don't turn away from me / you say you're sorry / i'm sorry too

| 03 we can change belinda carlisle |

i swear we don't have to hurt anymore / throw the old ways out and close the door / nothing remains the same / we can't hold on, but baby we can change

| 04 fighting divinyls |

gotta stick to the fight when you're hardest hit / is when things hurt the most that you must not quit / i'm losing my resistance and i'm coming after you / this time i gotta cause worth fighting for

| 05 before this night is through bonnie tyler |

come inside, close the door, come to me now / we'll find our way, we know how / let the past be the past, let it all fall away

| 06 something to believe in the bangles |

i lost direction in the darkness / couldn't stop myself from running / i could feel the sun on my back / but i was afraid to let the light in / now i can't run anymore / now i see this gift you bring me

| 07 surrender gloria estefan |

you've got the key / so open up your heart and be my destiny / come back, baby, come back / surrender to me

| 08 (we want) the same thing belinda carlisle |

no matter what we say / no matter what we do / beyond the battle lines, baby, we know what's true / we dream the same thing / we want the same thing / and all that we need is to see it together

| 09 never heart |

we can't go on, just running away / if we wait any longer, we will surely never get away / anything you want, we can make it happen / stand up and turn around, never let them shoot us down

| 10 nothing’s gonna stop us now jefferson starship |

let em say we're crazy, i don't care about that / put your hand in my hand, baby, don't ever look back / let the world around us just fall apart / baby, we can make it if we're heart to heart / we can build this thing together / standing strong forever / nothing's gonna stop us now 

| 11 we belong pat benatar |

we belong to the light, we belong to the thunder / we belong to the sound of the words we've both fallen under / whatever we deny or embrace for worse or for better / we belong together

[yadds]

Who wants another episode 6 fix-it fic??

When Geralt sees Jaskier a year after that bitter day on the mountain, Jaskier is surprisingly unenthusiastic about their reunion. Suddenly, he doesn’t seem to need (or want) Geralt anymore. Good. That’s exactly how he’s always wanted it. This is fine.

.

So, as is my nature, my oneshot has become longer than anticipated. I’m impatient with myself and decided to go ahead and post the first part. So enjoy part 1!

.

“Witcher,” a man hissed disdainfully, face hidden behind his collar aside from his eyes, which were spitting sparks of hate.

Geralt rolled his own eyes as he continued trudging through the village, covered in yet another creature’s guts. People got brave once he’d dispatched whatever monster they’d wanted gone.

He threw open the door to the inn where Roach was currently stabled, uncaring when the door slammed into the wall with a crash. He ignored the resulting silence that followed his entrance, stalking to the innkeeper standing behind the bar.

“It’s done,” he grunted.

“You got proof?” the innkeeper asked, lip curling as he was assaulted by the foul odor emanating from the witcher.

“Outside. Unless you’d like me to bring it in?” he asked with a cold smile.

“No, no, that’s quite alright,” the innkeeper hurried to say.

“Payment.” Geralt extended his hand expectantly.

The innkeeper eyed it for a long moment before ducking behind the bar to withdraw a small purse, tossing it onto the countertop and quickly pulling back, lest he accidentally come into contact with the witcher.

Snatching it and pulling it open, he plunged his hand in and felt the coin inside. “This is only half of what we agreed upon,” he growled.

“Well, I assumed you’d be wanting a room for the night. That, a meal, and lodging for your horse will all add up to the difference, I assure you,” the innkeeper said smugly. “But don’t worry, I’ll throw in a bath free of charge.”

The accompanying smirk slipped as Geralt glared in his direction, the loathing in his glowing yellow gaze palpable. “Now, sir,” the innkeeper prattled, realizing the potential danger and feeling trapped.

He snarled, unsurprised but already in a piss poor mood. His fists clenched, itching to slam the man’s head into the counter, but he refrained, instead turning sharply and heading for the stairs. “I’ll have that bath now,” he bit out, low voice carrying through the stillness that had fallen in the room once more.

He paused, one foot extended to the first step. Everyone in the crowded room was unmoving, an instinctual reaction like prey before a predator. All but one, who was shuffling quietly near the hearth. His eyes narrowed on the anomaly, noting the bright doublet and shaggy brown hair. He blew out a breath. “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

He pushed his way through the crowd towards the man. Noticing the familiar lute leaning against the wall by the hearth, he grabbed it by the neck.

The waves of tension that rippled with each step Geralt took finally reached the fleeing man. He froze, stumbling before he turned slowly, eyes wide and wary as he remained silent.

“Jaskier,” Geralt grunted.

“Geralt,” Jaskier returned curtly.

Somewhat surprised by the lack of response, Geralt’s brows furrowed. “Forget something?” he asked wryly, holding up the lute.

Jaskier snatched it, cradling it protectively against his chest. “I was going to return for it,” he said, a stiff facsimile of a smile on his face as his eyes focused on the fire crackling behind the witcher. “As soon as you’d lumbered your way upstairs,” he continued, one hand flailing in the direction of the staircase. “Thank you for saving me the trouble.”

“Avoiding me, bard?” he asked.

“Yes,” Jaskier said bluntly. “I thought that was the expectation. Also, you smell absolutely terrible.”

“It’s always been the expectation. Doesn’t mean you’ve ever done it before,” Geralt quipped, ignoring the last comment.

He watched the muscle in Jaskier’s cheek jump as he clenched his jaw tight. “Yes, well, my apologies for not obliging you sooner,” he said with an attempt at a casual shrug. “And now I will bid you aideu, dear witcher.” Jaskier sketched a flourished bow before turning on his heel and marching out the door.

Geralt stood for another moment before turning as well and heading for the stairs again. He made it back to his room uninterrupted to find a steaming tub waiting for him.

He stripped quickly, letting his armor fall with a thump before sinking into the water with a sigh. He grabbed the small bucket near the tub and poured water over his sodden hair, fingers scratching through the muck.

He gazed into the murky water, loathe to admit that he’d been looking forward to Jaskier’s assistance when he’d sighted him in the tavern. Jaskier was always insistent on overseeing his bath after a particularly gruesome hunt, not allowing Geralt to skimp on cleanliness when Jaskier would have to smell his stench.

He’d stupidly come to expect Jaskier’s company as a certainty any time their paths crossed. It went against all his natural instincts; everyone left, he knew that all too well. Why would Jaskier be any different?

He grunted to himself as he sank deeper into the small tub, knees breaching the surface of the water as his head fell back against the edge. Despite the lukewarm water now engulfing his torso, the strange tightness in his chest wasn’t eased.

.

Geralt left the inn early the next day, glowering at the innkeeper on the way out before scanning the tavern.

Seeing a man he’d noticed nursing an ale the night before, Geralt stopped by his table. “Where’s the bard?” he questioned.

The man turned his head where it rested on the table, eyes rolling slowly up to meet Geralt’s. He blinked slowly before turning his head back down and grumbling, “‘the fuck would I know? Didn’t come back after you chased him off, least not that I saw.”

Huffing, Geralt made his way to the door but stopped when a man at the table in the corner said, “He left.”

Geralt stopped, turning his head to the man who’d spoken. “Where?”

The man shrugged, shoulders rustling his black curls. “Pretty sure he didn’t want you knowing, sir witcher,” he said mildly.

“Then why the fuck did you say anything at all?” Geralt snapped.

The man smiled in a way that made Geralt want to punch him. “What do you want with him?”

Good fucking question. “None of your damn business,” Geralt growled.

“Well, then I guess I can’t help you,” the man said with another shrug.

Geralt gave into the growing urge for violence and kicked a chair in the man’s direction. He found himself even more pissed off when the man did nothing but dodge slightly, seeming unconcerned by the wood splintering right behind his head.

Geralt’s lip curled before he jerked around and stormed out the door.

.

He paced through the roads, tense and restless with pent up energy.

He stopped at the apothecary to restock on ingredients for some of his potions, but it was a small affair, as was expected in a village of this size, and didn’t have much to offer. He refused to admit that he was looking for excuses to continue searching the village.

Annoyed with himself, he abruptly stopped and made his way back to the inn to retrieve Roach.

He’d spent the last ten years trying to get rid of Jaskier when he’d been sticking like an obnoxious burr in his blanket, with intermittent success. It had been nearly a year since he’d last seen Jaskier, not since that ill-fated day in the mountains where his life had taken a shittier turn than even he’d expected. That in itself wasn’t noteworthy; they’d gone longer without crossing paths in the past. What was new, however, was the lack of enthusiasm from Jaskier and his willingness to actually leave him be. And it aggravated Geralt to an absurd degree.

He saddled Roach, consciously gentling his hands so as not to take out his frustration on his one faithful companion. She huffed and butted his chest when he was done. He spared her a tight smile and a pat on her neck before turning and leading her out of town, concentrating his gaze only on the road in front of him.

Fuck Jaskier. He always knew one day he’d leave for good for one reason or another. And fuck his own cold, black heart for making him think he cared.

.

Two months later, Geralt was entering Redania when he noticed the gentle waving of the surrounding maize stalks wasn’t quite as gentle to his right. He reined Roach to a stop, hearing a muffled disturbance following the irregular motions.

He dismounted and left Roach at the road, creeping swiftly but silently into the field, sword drawn. Perhaps he’d lucked upon something that would get him some coin in the nearby town.

He slowed as he approached the creatures, which appeared to have stopped. He edged forward and was almost in view when he smelled the familiar notes of lavender and heard, “Come now, fellows, have mercy on a poor bard.”

Geralt dropped his stance, standing up straight and eyes rolling skyward. Of course. He shook his head and pushed forward to see the situation. There were three men surrounding Jaskier, burly farmhands by the look of them. Jaskier’s hands were spread in front of him, looking as unthreatening as possible.

“Don’t look so poor to me,” one man grunted, fingering Jaskier’s stupidly fine clothing carelessly.

“Well I wasn’t always poor,” Jaskier allowed, still managing to preen slightly. “But-but I assure you I am now!” he babbled quickly when the men advanced. “Seriously, look!” he said, fumbling at his belt.

The men tensed but Jaskier simply pulled out a worn coin purse and tossed it at their feet. One of the men picked it up and looked inside before snorting. “Boy, you ain’t lying. You got less than I do.”

“Right? You’d think with all this tension with Nilfgaard that people would want some good entertainment! But nooooo, no one wants to hear my new songs, which are frankly amazing if I do say so myself. Would you like to hear what I’ve been working on?” Jaskier asked eagerly, reaching for the case on his back.

The men backed up, the one holding the purse tossing it back to Jaskier, apparently uninterested in robbing someone less fortunate than themselves. Of course Jaskier would find the only decent would-be muggers on the Continent. “No. Now scram.”

Jaskier didn’t need to be told twice. He fumbled for his purse and didn’t bother resettling it on his belt before bolting right past where Geralt was lurking.

He followed behind, making sure the idiot got to the road in one piece, still undecided whether he was inclined to show his presence or not.

He watched Jaskier burst out of the field, hands on his knees as he heaved for breath before straightening, returning the coin purse to his belt, and moving on down the path, grumbling under his breath.

Geralt remained motionless, adrenaline still pumping but nothing to do with it. He couldn’t recall a single moment where Jaskier had been in trouble that he hadn’t had to intervene in some way. He felt strangely at a loss.

He shook it off, sheathing his sword and walking back up the road in the opposite direction to retrieve Roach.

.

The next altercation Geralt witnessed was decidedly more violent.

It was only weeks later when he’d been returning to an inn after eradicating a pack of wargs that had been attacking the town’s livestock. The pay wouldn’t be great, but this innkeeper at least allowed him a free night with a meal and a bath, which he’d not had in...too long.

The creatures only approached the town deep into the night and no one had been sure where they came from, so it was nearer to dawn than he’d like when he was through.

He heard a scuffle to his left and glanced to the side indifferently, having no interest in interfering in drunken squabbles. As he turned his head, the scent of lavender and fresh blood hit his nose and he was moving before he’d registered the connection, running soundlessly down the narrow, twisting alleyway.

He rounded the final turn just in time to see Jaskier thrusting a dagger into the hand of a man before spinning around and piercing a stiletto under the arm of another man that had been rushing him from behind, sword raised high.

Jaskier’s eyes jumped to Geralt as he appeared, flitting back to the scene before double-taking back to him and widening. “Go!” he hissed before turning back. But the distraction was already bearing consequence as a third man swung his heavy broadsword at Jaskier’s belly. He jumped back, twisting away, but was unable to avoid the blow completely, the glancing blow easily slicing through the thin doublet and scoring over his ribs and down to his hip.

Geralt rushed forward, plunging his own sword into the third man’s chest. The rattling gurgle as the man’s lungs filled with blood was strangely gratifying.

“Fuck!” Jaskier cursed. “You big oaf! If you were going to interrupt the least you could have done was finish the job properly,” he burst, gesturing angrily at the mouth of the alley where the first man had just fled, cradling his maimed hand.

“Job?” Geralt questioned, brows furrowed. “You an assassin now?” He asked scathingly, completely bewildered by what had just happened and irritated by his bewilderment.

“What? No! What?” Jaskier said incredulously. “No,” he said again, “I definitely did not start that. Seriously? But you let that bastard get away! And you just made my life a whole hell of a lot harder since he saw you. Fuck,” he swore again, gritting his teeth and holding his side.

Geralt kicked aside the corpse of the second man, kneeling down to remove the stiletto from between his ribs and pocketing it before approaching Jaskier cautiously, unsure of his welcome.

“I’m not sure why you’re here, but I’ve been working damn hard to stay out of your way so it’s not my fault. Now can you kindly return my dagger before you fuck off?”

“Jaskier. Don’t be an idiot. You need help,” Geralt rumbled.

A bitter laugh tore its way out of Jaskier’s throat. “Oh, that’s rich, Geralt. And I suppose you’re offering? I’m not sure why - what better guarantee could you have to not see my face again? Maybe destiny likes you a bit after all,” he grunted as he slumped against the wall behind him, blood pumping sluggishly between his fingers.

Rattled by the scent of Jaskier’s blood still fresh in the air, Geralt bent to grab Jaskier’s arm and throw it over his shoulder. Jaskier hissed in pain as the skin around his wound stretched to accommodate the movement. “Yeah, that’s not really gonna help, you giant behemoth. You’re way too tall for this to work.”

“Hm. Not my fault you’re so short,” Geralt replied lowly, falling easily back into their usual banter. “Now suck it up,” he growled, even as he stooped further to ease the strain, shuffling Jaskier out of the alley.

He waited for the inevitable overdramatic response from Jaskier but it never came. He glanced over to make sure he was still conscious. Jaskier’s face was slightly pale and drawn, but his gaze was focused furiously on the road in front of them, alert and astutely avoiding Geralt.

Geralt gritted his own teeth at the wave of irrational displeasure that swept over him. But if there was one thing that he was good at, it was shoving his phantom emotions deep, deep into the bowels of hell.

Finally to the inn, Geralt’s eyes automatically swept the room, noting no obvious threats in the few patrons still lingering at this early hour. A young girl was dozing with her head on her hand behind the bar. “Healer,” he barked in her direction.

She startled, head jerking up suddenly. “Wh-what?”

“Healer,” Geralt repeated impatiently. “I assume this godforsaken town has one?” When she nodded spastically, gaze edging away from him, he had to restrain a growl. “Send for him,” he ordered.

“If you would use a little tact, maybe you wouldn’t scare the poor girl into uselessness. Seriously, Geralt, you’re only getting in your own way. Or my way, since, you know, I’m the one bleeding out over here,” Jaskier rasped before lifting his gaze to the girl and offering her a pained smile. “I do apologize for his brutishness, but if you really could send for the healer, I would be,” he stopped and drew a sharp intake of breath as another wave of pain wracked him, leaving him limp and trembling, “oh gods, eternally grateful. Please, for the love of all that is holy, woman!”

The girl shook herself and rushed out the back.

Geralt lowered Jaskier into a nearby chair, supporting him with a hand on the nape of his neck. He was tense, on high alert for any possible threat.

“Why?” Geralt grunted.

Jaskier looked up at him before hanging his head again. “More than one word would be helpful. Why is the sky blue? I don’t know Geralt, maybe it’s Melitele’s favorite color,” he said caustically.

Geralt sent him a withering glare. “For fuck’s sake - you’ll be a pain in my ass until your very last breath.”

“What can I say? It’s a gift,” he wheezed, hands clenching the edge of the table white-knuckle tight. His eyes suddenly flew open. “W-wait a minute? Am I really dying? Geralt, I-I don’t want to die, please, I’m sorry,” he babbled, shifting listlessly.

Geralt knelt down and settled his hand on the side of Jaskier’s head, his thumb under one eye and fingers sifting through his hair. “Jaskier,” he said lowly. “Look at me Jaskier,” he ordered, grip tightening, anchoring him.

Jaskier’s eyes slowly rolled to meet his, glazed, breath hitching. “Hey, you’re going to be fine. I won’t let you die, you hear me?” Geralt insisted intently.

Jaskier’s lids fluttered shut, lips pressed tightly together as he finally nodded. He slumped further as the tension slowly bled from him.

“Hey!” Geralt barked. “No, stay awake, keep talking.”

He felt the stirrings of what he imagined to be panic simmering in his gut as he glanced down again at the wound. It was still bleeding, although the flow was intermittent and sluggish. But he had no idea how much blood Jaskier had already lost, or the likelihood of extensive internal damage. He may have promised Jaskier that he wouldn’t die, but Geralt wasn’t a fucking healer.

“Thought you wanted me to shut up,” Jaskier mumbled.

“Why were those men after you? You fuck one of their wives again?” he asked, partially to keep him talking but also because he wanted to know. Those weren’t your average village folk.

Jaskier choked out a short laugh that ended in a cough. “If only that were so - then I’d at least have a warm, fond memory to hold onto as I got cut down.”

When that seemed to be the end of what he had to say, Geralt rolled his eyes before prompting again, “Why, Jaskier?”

Jaskier was quiet for a long moment before he said reluctantly. “You.”

Geralt recoiled then returned his grip to the back of Jaskier’s neck, grasp tight but careful. “What the fuck does that mean?”

Jaskier’s eyes were darting restlessly and he couldn’t tell if it was because Jaskier was dizzy on the verge of unconsciousness or if he just wanted so desperately to avoid looking at Geralt. He refrained from shaking him when no further explanation was forthcoming, but it was a near thing.

“It’s not exactly a secret that we’re pretty closely associated. Or were,” Jaskier said with a trace of bitterness. “And you can be a bit of an ass,” he emphasized pointedly, cutting a sideways glance at Geralt, “so you’ve got more than your share of enemies.”

Geralt grunted in agreement. But when he simply continued staring expectantly at him, Jaskier scoffed. “Do I really need to spell this out for you? So they come after me looking for you. Gods above Geralt, I know people mistake you for a brainless baboon but I always gave you the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps wrongly so, I’m finding now.”

Geralt didn’t hear Jaskier’s derisive comments over the rushing noise filling his ears. “Who?” he choked out, tongue feeling heavy and clumsy in his mouth.

“I don’t know, I didn’t quite get that far before they tried to kill me. Believe it or not, real life isn’t like the stories where the villians wax poetic about their life story and grand plans! I found that out a long time ago, to my everlasting disappointment.” Jaskier’s voice was steady but growing weaker.

“I know,” Geralt replied softly, at a loss for what else to say.

Then his brain caught up to the conversation and his brows snapped down, eyes narrowed. “You speak as though this has happened before, Jaskier,” he growled.

Jaskier’s responding bark of laughter was almost too faint to hear. He held a hand up, palm out toward Geralt. “Aren’t I the victim here? Please, can the interrogation wait?” he pleaded softly.

Geralt took in the fine trembling of Jaskier’s outstretched hand, the beads of sweat gathering on his hairline, and nodded. “Fine,” he relented before looking hastily around the room as if the healer could have entered in the last few minutes without him having noticed. He clenched his jaw, tempted to tear through the town and drag the man here himself. But he looked again at Jaskier, noting how he swayed as he struggled to hold himself upright, breathing rapid and shallow. He couldn’t leave him alone.

Jaskier’s eyelids were drooping heavily when the door finally opened. Geralt immediately reached for his sword before he saw the girl from before. His hand slowly returned to Jaskier’s shoulder as she was followed by not a healer, but a mage. Triss. Of course. Despite how he didn’t wish to see her at the moment, he knew that Jaskier was in good hands.

“Geralt,” she greeted with a crooked smile. “And this must be Jaskier,” she guessed, eyes traveling to take in the bard under his hands.

“Heal him,” Geralt ordered.

Triss shot him an unimpressed look and lingered across the room.

“I’ll pay,” he continued. “Whatever it is you’re wanting, I’ll give it to you.”

“Well, I was just wanting a properly polite request, but now I may have to rethink my demands,” she mused, lips quirking.

“Triss, please,” he said beseechingly.

Her expression softened as she finally approached. She laid a hand on his forearm and assured him, “He’ll be fine, Geralt, I promise.”

She knelt in front of Jaskier, hand brushing gently across his cheek as his eyes fluttered open. “Hello, Jaskier. I’m Triss. I’m going to fix you up, alright? So just hang on a bit longer and you’ll be right as rain.”

“Geralt?” Jaskier croaked. Geralt squeezed his shoulder to let him know he was still there. “Are you sure I haven’t died? I’m pretty sure there’s an exquisite angel here.”

Triss chuckled as she straightened. “Why don’t you bring him upstairs and lay him down - he’s near unconscious already and my potions will only exacerbate his exhaustion.”

Geralt gathered Jaskier in his arms. Even he wasn’t cruel enough to toss him over his shoulder as he’d normally do in his current state. Jaskier groaned, curling in on himself despite Geralt’s attempts to not jostle his wounded side. “Shh,” he murmured. “You’re fine.”

Jaskier muttered something unintelligible in response. Geralt looked back up and locked eyes with Triss, who had a somewhat pinched expression. She turned away and gestured to Geralt to lead the way upstairs.

In Geralt’s room, he settled Jaskier gently on the sheets before withdrawing and leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, averting his eyes to watch the shadows on the wall move slowly with the rising sun.

Triss sifted through her potions before selecting a small green bottle. She held it to Jaskier’s lips. “Come on now, little bard, drink up,” she coaxed. “This will stop any internal bleeding.”

It was only a matter of minutes after Jaskier finished his dose that he was fully unconscious, his soft breathing and rapid pattering of his heart still too fast but steadier than before.

Triss pulled aside Jaskier’s tunic to close the wound. Geralt’s gaze now drawn and refusing to be moved from Triss’s hands on Jaskier’s flesh, his own skin buzzed with tension, fingers flexing against his biceps.

As she finished, Triss stood and faced Geralt, lips pursing as she took in his agitation. “He’s fine, Geralt,” she said yet again. “He lost a bit of blood but this was really quite minor to have you so worked up. He may sleep for the next 24 hours so don’t be alarmed,” she said briskly as she gathered her things.

“Thank you,” he said, gruff but sincere. “What do I owe you?”

She paused and looked at him again before shaking her head. “Nothing. I had hoped that we could perhaps reconnect after I’d heard that you and Yennefer had...parted ways. But I see that it appears I may have already missed my chance,” she said wistfully.

“There must be something,” he insisted, ignoring her other statement. She was right that they would not be ‘reconnecting,’ but how could she possibly know that?

“No,” she said as she closed her bag and turned to the door. “Just helping an old friend.”

Geralt grabbed her shoulder gently to stop her. “Triss. Really, thank you. I am in your debt,” he said intently.

He watched her eyes dart down to his lips and was prepared for a renewed proposition. He wouldn’t refuse again; it was an easy way to repay a debt that would sit heavy on the shreds of his conscience that remained.

But she simply smiled once again, with a soft, “Goodbye, Geralt. Take care.”

He watched her leave then settled on the floor at the side of the bed, removing his swords from his back and slinging them across his lap

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

Once Bitten, Twice Stupid prt 206

206

Keith did not enjoy seeing Lotor again. He didn’t think it possible that the amount of annoyance he felt for the man was actual, until he saw his face again. Hair pulled back. Ridiculous purple and blue suit. Ridiculous blue leather shoes. One look at him and he wanted to kill Lotor. He wanted to kill him, but for a bastard, he was a nimble bastard.

Laying on the floor of the training room, Keith’s chest heaved as he fought to catch his breath. They were “playing” tag. Coran recording each session to monitor Keith’s growth. So far the only thing that had grown with these stupid session was Keith’s bank account. He couldn’t catch Lotor, and he couldn’t turn into a damn werewolf. He could catch up to Lotor, then as if by magic, Lotor would be out of his grasp again. Surely if Keith was meant to learning how to live, move, and think, like a werewolf, a werewolf teacher would have been better? Matt had been in a huff over someone else teaching him, but he didn’t have time between being head over heels for Rieva and working at Hunk’s dad’s garage. Rieva had the time, but didn’t have the right words. She’d tried to talk him through grasping his ego and letting the shift happen. It hadn’t happened.

“Get up. Let’s go again”

Rolling his eyes at Lotor, Lotor could go again. He could go and keep going. Keith might even drag himself up off the floor to get the door for Lotor on the way out

“Fuck off. You stick and you make a lousy partner”

Lance smelled like “good death”. Lotor smelt like fish left in the sun to rot in a plastic bag, then someone had come along and poked a hole in it

“The little werewolf all out of bark. Maybe I’ll take it on myself to show Lance how nice it is to be around a fellow vampire rather than a flea riddled mongrel”

Snarling at Lotor, Keith wished he didn’t bite every time Lotor baited him. The vampire had asked how Lance was, Keith had told promised him that he’d kill him if ever did again. Forcing himself up, the werewolf reminded himself that this was all for Lance and buying Lance the engagement ring of his dreams. The physical exercise bit felt good, his body felt good for now active he’d been, yet Lotor couldn’t let him have that... Noooo. He was “too slow”. He couldn’t go any faster than the limits he’d been hitting. He gladly would if he could. Lotor’s throat would feel so nice between his teeth. He, and his ego, hated Lotor with so much passion that Keith truly expected his inner wolf to break free.

“It’s obvious to anyone who looks at you that you’re nothing more than a rotting sack of meat and bones. We should have killed you when we had the chance”

Lotor laughed, Keith not amused as he’d been deathly serious. His nails long, teeth extended, and he knew he was pulling his “scary face”

“You wound me, Keith. Do you really hate me, or are you simply jealous that I could snatch your life away before you even blinked”

“A piece of shit like you who values nothing could never understand”

“Says the turned runt who can’t lay a finger on me. I must say, you are lacking in every single point in your personality. You must be a hell of a fuck, for I no other reason for Lance to keep his pet dog around”

Lotor could rile him up, but the moment he mentioned Lance, he crossed the damn line. Snarling, he locked his gaze on Lotor, chest heaving as rage threatened to boil his blood

“I’m going kill you. I’m going to sink my teeth into your throat and enjoy the blood running down my throat”

“You have to catch me first”

*

Lance scrubbed his face tiredly as he watched Keith and Lotor on the camera feed. The pair were as bad as each other, and reminded him painfully of his training with Lotor. Lotor was an expert at exploiting a persons weakness

“Have they been like this for the whole week?”

“Indeed they have, my boy. Lotor refuses to rein his ego in, constantly provoking Keith until he loses his cool”

“Keith’s gotta learn how to control himself, I’m getting tired of him coming home in a bad mood”

Keith didn’t know Lance had come to pick him up. The vampire escaping Rieva’s wrath and fussing. Feeling like doing some yoga and light stretching, she’d scared the crap out of him by yelling “boo!”. As a result he’d bitten through his tongue and smacked his face on the coffee table as he lost his balance. The whole reason he’d been practicing so close to the coffee table was so if he lost his balance he had something to grab for. Spending half an hour patching him back, she’d shifted into talking about his birthing plans and lectured him for sleeping too much during the day. He didn’t have birthing plans. He left that for Coran. If he went into labour, he went into labour. Keith would take him to VOLTRON, where Coran would perform the Caesarian. He loved Rieva, but he’d also loved stretching in near privacy because his body felt so stiff from sleeping all sorts of odd hours, not that he could help it. Now he’d not only been interrupted, and felt highly embarrassed being sprung in yoga pants and an ill fitting shirt, but was slightly slurring as his tongue was taking forever to heal its damn self, almost like his stupid arm that’d taken a whole stupid week to fix itself.

“Shall I have a word with Lotor? I’m quite sure he’d stop antagonising Keith if I were to ask”

Allura had the vampire shaking his head

“Nah. This is something they have to work out. Keith’s holding back too much. I can see him thinking. He’s thinking he wants blood, but the good part of him is conflicted about going too far and potentially hurting Lotor”

Crossing her arms, Allura wore a heavy frown that didn’t suit her beautiful face

“I’m more worried about Lotor hurting him. I understand he needs to provoke Keith, yet he is quite disrespectful”

“Keith has to learn how to cope with it. It’s no good if he goes up against a group of vampires and finds himself overwhelmed. I don’t like it, and I’m not fond of Lotor’s methods, but this is for Keith’s sake. I wish I could go down there and tell him to give it his all”

Coran and Allura knew he’d snuck out, Allura giggling as she covered her mouth

“Afraid you’ll be in trouble for running away?”

“Hey, I know I’m going to be in trouble. Keith’s very protective of me and if he knew Rieva upset me, he’d probably try to throw her out the house”

He’d left in tears. Well, he’d held his tears in until he was squashed into his car, then burst into tears over not having a birthing plan

“That’s no good. If he’s not getting along with them, that makes for a stressful situation”

If they talked to Lotor and gave Keith a win, he’d be devastated by the fakeness. Lance naturally wanted Keith to win, but he believed his fiancé and knew Keith would work his arse off harder after each defeat...

“That’s not the problem. He’s cranky over Lotor beating him day after day. We both get on with Matt and Rieva, even if Matt keeps pushing Keith’s buttons. Rieva had to stop them from murdering each other last night. Matt cheated on the game they were playing together and nearly got the controller embedded in his head for it”

Allura’s giggle turned into a proper laugh. She could laugh it up as she hadn’t been there

“Trust me, it’s not that funny. Matt tackled him on the sofa and I swear they nearly broke it. Rieva put Matt in a time out and Keith refused to talk about it when we went to bed”

Coran wiped an imaginary tear from his right eye, gushing as he did

“I think it’s lovely that you young folk get along so well. Perhaps I should give Keith the day off? I don’t want to upset him so much that he doesn’t return to active duty. He’s grown so much. Oh, he’ll make such a wonderful father to the twins...”

Great. His family were weirdos. He didn’t need Coran gushing over Keith, his ego was happy enough to do that about their mate as it was... Keith was strong and brave, that knowledge was what kept him from marching down there and going Lotor for the hurtful things he was saying

“Coran, that has nothing to do with what’s happening now. Isn’t there any way you can get Keith to shift that’s actually helpful? Rieva tried to help and he had no luck there”

“No. I can manipulate his quintessence, but I would prefer not to. Keith needs to focus on finding those feelings that’ll trigger that change in him for himself. How has been after his second moon?”

Lance wasn’t sure there was much of a difference after the second moon seeing Keith had made such a big stride in learning he could be himself around Lance. His fiancé never violent or threatening towards him, just frustrated and cranky to Matt and Rieva... Mostly Matt, and mostly deserved at the time. Matt and Rieva understood it was ego related, and weren’t actually able to help Keith calm it back down

“You’ve seen him more than I have. He’s here from 9am to 4pm every day. All we’ve got time for when he gets home is dinner, snuggles on the sofa, then bed early because he’s worn out. The first thing he does when he gets home is take a shower. He thinks it helps lessens Lotor’s scent, but it doesn’t do much when the scents on his clothes and I’m the one who puts the washing on. I made the mistake of mentioning I could smell Lotor and it really upset his ego”

Coran hummed. Lance mentally agreed. Humming summed things up perfect, as if these sessions didn’t start improving, they’d have to look at other options. Lance knew if Keith could just land that one hit, his confidence would skyrocket and he’d start believing in himself again.

Giving Keith another half an hour, Lance couldn’t let the pair of them go on any longer. Keith kept lashing out, and Lotor’s laughing had gotten on his nerves. Sometimes a vampire had to take matters into his own hands. Pushing his chair, back Lance bit down a groan a he pushed himself up. Coran shifted back, the fae raising an eyebrow at his actions

“Lance?”

“I’m going to go talk with Keith”

“My boy, I hardly think now’s a good time. I think it best we wait until these two tire fire the day”

“That’s why now is the perfect time. I just remembered something that I think is going to help Keith and I want to see if I’m right”

“You should let me go in first...”

Coran worried too much

“Coran, it’ll be fine. If Lotor tries something, Keith will lose it. Lotor will know that the moment he sees me, and this can’t wait”

“Still, it’s better to be safe that sorry”

“I’ll be okay. This is something I have to tell Keith properly and alone. Just keep watching over them”

Waddling his pregnant arse down to the training room, Lance knocked before he opened the door. Lotor casually leaning on one of the training dummies across from Keith. Their egos ridiculously strong, but he wasn’t going to back down now that he’d cured his own stupidness over the situation. Snarling at him, Keith needed a few moments to register him before his body slumped

“Babe?”

“Sorry to interrupt, Keith, I need to borrow you for a moment”

His fiancé sounded frustrated as he muttered

“We’re pretty much fucking done here...”

“Don’t. Just come out here for a moment. Lotor, give us a few minutes then I’ll send Keith back in”

Following him out into the hall, Keith threw himself to lean against the wall as Lance shut the door behind him

“What are you doing here?”

“Escaping Rieva and her birthing plans”

“So I suppose you saw how badly I was doing?”

“It wasn’t that you were doing bad... Look, I’m an idiot. I didn’t think about it, then I remembered something important”

Keith seemed pretty disinterested in this “important something”, gesturing for him to continue

“Well, watching you two, it reminded me what it was like to fight Matt”

Rolling his eyes at him, Keith kept with the muttering

“Matt was a proper wolf, not like me”

“You are a proper wolf. But that’s the thing. You saw how hard it was at first for us to get along comfortably until we had that fight. It made me think about how I felt. Your ego doesn’t respect Lotor because he doesn’t respect you”

“Tell me something I don’t know”

“Well, it’s basically because you’re holding back. I didn’t hold back when I fought Matt, and he didn’t hold back either. You need to stop holding yourself back”

“Thanks, Sherlock. No fucking shit”

Nope. Keith was not going to get under his skin

“When you go back in there, you have to stop seeing Lotor as a person. He’s not. Matt tore me to shreds, but I healed right up. Remember? I know it scared the shit out of you to see what it was like, and I think that’s part of what’s holding you back. You’re scared you’re going to hurt Lotor, even if it’s subconsciously, the thought is still there. You’re thinking too much like a human. Think of him as your pray. The hunter become the hunted. You are nine-hundred-and-fifty-zillion times the man he’ll ever be. You have the skills. You have the training. I know you’re scared of yourself because I have moments when I’m scared of myself”

Keith threw his hands up

“I’m not like you, babe. I don’t know how to cope with this. I’m sorry, but turning me into a wolf was wasted on me. I’m useless”

Lance snapped hard

“Keith Kogane, you are not useless. You’ve had two fucking moons and you’ve already settled into living with a vampire for a lover. God. I want to shake you right now. I felt how badly your egos were clashing in there. You were an absolute fucking bad arse hunter before you turned. You need to have faith in yourself”

“Yeah, and what if I can’t fucking turn back from being a wolf?!”

“You will because I know you will. Matt and I worked things out because our egos accepted each other as pretty much being mutual bad arses. Lotor, is Lotor. Everything he’s riling you up with is shit. You are my fucking mate, and I love you. When you go back in there, remember that you’re top dog. The only vampire who’ll ever now down to you is me. The only way to get Lotor to respect you is to make him bleed. It’s not pleasant but that’s how our stupid egos work. You can do this. You can do this because I know for a fact you can”

“And what if I take it too far?”

“Coran will stop things before that happens. Babe, we can’t help or protect people from the bad things if you can’t get out of your own head. You’re amazing. You’re amazing and I love you. Even if Lotor kicks your arse, we’ll watch it over and over and we’ll figure out where you need to make adjustments. Even if he makes me cry because you’re bleeding, I‘ll be there to patch you up. You’ve got this, and I’ve got you”

Shuffling over to him, Keith wrapped his arms around him

“You’re the amazing one. It’s nothing like how it was when you fought with him”

“That’s because I’m older than you. But you have a secret a weapon that he doesn’t. You have me on your side. Your very pregnant me”

“I feel like I’m back at the beginning again”

“Because you are. That’s not a bad thing. You haven’t picked up a lifetime of bad habits. Your stances are sloppy and your feet are too far apart. Raise your head and be confident. Then, once you’ve won, you can buy me dinner”

“I’m sorry I’m so weak”

“Aw, baby. No. You’re not weak. I was traumatised for a very long time after my turn. But when facing someone like Lotor, you can let that last little bit of fear fuck right off. You’re a werewolf. You’re my werewolf. Remember all that shit he used to go on about, about the “blood of kings”? What’s so good about it? When you fight, you’re fighting to protect families like ours. I’ve got your back”

“You always encourage me... I don’t deserve it”

“You’re always encouraging me too. You encourage me to go to bed. You encourage me to stop scrubbing at the grout in the kitchen...”

Keith snorted at him, the sniffled. His poor fiancé had shocking self esteem since his turn

“I don’t think you’re using that word right. And why do you have a lisp?”

“I bit my tongue. Rieva scared the crap out of me when I was doing my yoga in peace. I don’t know if that was better or worse than her insisting I need a birth plan”

“I thought the plan was that if you went into labour we came here?”

“I know right?! But nooo. Apparently wolves do it different? Anyway, I’m going to go back up there, and I’m going to be cheering you on”

“I don’t...”

“Nope. No. Nooo. No bad mouthing. That’s like insulting my ego and my choice in men. I refuse to be anything but proud of you”

“I’m proud of you too... but please don’t ever go that close to Lotor again. Not when we’re... training”

“For you, I won’t. Now go get him!”

*

Slipping back into the training room, Keith felt his ego flare at the feel of Lotor’s. Lotor was standing there checking his phone, giving Keith a sideways glance as if his presence was worthless. Lance had it all figured out. Turning into a wolf terrified him. He didn’t know if he’d be able to control himself, or how to move his body once he shifted. He didn’t know if he’d lose his mind and go Lotor with dire consequences he’d have to live with. Lance was also right. He couldn’t not draw on his wolf side if it meant protecting people. Him being cowardly could cost Curtis and Shiro their lives.

“Everything okay?”

The way Lotor asked with obvious curiosity instantly got under his skin. Taking a deep breath, Keith nodded. He had Lance on his side. His fiancé hadn’t cared about Lotor. He’d barely glanced his way when he’d opened the door to the training room, and that’d done wonders for Keith’s twinges of jealousy. Out of the two of them, Lance had chosen him all over again. He now got what Lance meant. There’d been a little respect between him and Matt, allowing them to fight as equals. He didn’t see Lotor as his equal so he’d been fighting on his back foot, half a step behind. Wounds would heal. This was training and not real life. He could afford to test his limits because neither he nor Lotor had to currently worry about the consequences of them going all out.

“Fine. Nothing for you to worry about”

And a lot less for him to worry about. Lance was watching over him. He’d stop him before he fucked up beyond repair. Lotor didn’t respect him... it pained Keith to admit he needed to show more respect towards the vampire and treat training much more seriously than he’d let himself previous

“Are you sure? Lance seemed positively ready to burst on the spot”

“What do you except? He’s heavily pregnant with our twins. Are we going to do this or are you too busy playing on your phone?”

Lotor sighed at him

“We’ve spent hours accomplishing nothing. Perhaps it’s time you tucked your tail between you legs and trotted back home? I doubt that wolf inside you is anything more than a yapping puppy”

Keith could feel his wolf... he could feel it and that was the whole problem. Him not being himself. He didn’t want to be that kind of person. He was too scared Lance would reject him for letting his wolf out. But Lance had soothed him, told him to go for it, he hadn’t been very talkative at home thanks to all of this weighing on his mind. He was working through his fears, but needed to grow sure of himself again. It felt like he had to rebuild himself bit by bit ever since he’d woken up. He’d never admit to Lance that he wanted to give up almost every single day, even with all the love and support poured on him.

“You want to see my wolf?”

“Isn’t that the whole reason we’ve been tasked with this ridiculous endeavour?”

“Remember you asked for it”

“I’ll remember that when I’m wiping the floor with this human form of yours”

*

Shuffling back into the monitoring room, Lance let out a sigh of deep relief to be off his feet the moment his butt hit the chair. He could totally go for a nap right now, but had to stay awake. He had to see what Keith could do, and if his words had helped in any way

“Everything okay, my sweet boy?”

“Just had to remind Keith of something. Did I miss anything?”

“Only Keith watching Lotor as he taunts him”

Coran sounded annoyed with Lotor. Lance was as annoyed, but egos were like that. The way the room had felt left him feeling grimy, egos so thick he could taste it on his tongue. Any longer in the space he would have fallen to his knees with his head bowed and in labour. His stomach cramping from the few moments of intense pressure, not that he’d let it show. Not that his ego would let it show. They were a vampire, and Lotor was no otherworldly demon.

Coming up behind him, Allura looped her arms around him

“How do you feel?”

Patting Allura’s arm, Lance rubbed his cheek against hers. He still hadn’t replied to Veronica. He really needed to reply to Veronica

“Good. Allura, I should probably warned you that I told Keith to stop holding himself back... He was thinking too much as a human and not enough as a werewolf”

Allura kissed his cheek. His ego didn’t want to be touched by anyone other than Keith, but he’d never turn Allura away. She knew is as she quickly drew back

“I’m not surprised. Keith has quite a soft heart. I do hope Lotor doesn’t hurt him”

“If Lotor doesn’t hurt him, then he didn’t listen to me. Watching them reminded me of when Matt and I fought to settle our egos. Neither of them want to acknowledge the other out of personal pride. And Keith’s scared of losing himself to his wolf. We should be in for something good... well, not that I want Keith hurt, but you know”

“We do love stubborn men, don’t we? Perhaps we should get some popcorn as we watch them make fools of themselves?”

“Allura, sister from another mister, I couldn’t agree more”

Coran sent himself for snacks, being pregnant had its perks as all he had to do was fake the idea of leaving VOLTRON to retrieve them and Coran was quick on his case about how he’d go while Lance rested. Lance felt a little bad, for a few moments, before he was beaming at the screen in front of him. Carefully Keith had watched Lotor. They’d circled each other, then Keith had torn his shirt off. Damn if his fiancé wasn’t the hottest man on Earth, Allura copping a snarl at her low “oh my”. Rolling his neck, there was bloodlust in Keith’s eyes. His claws extending further, initialling resisting before shifting before their eyes.

Lotor packed himself. Well, Lance liked to think he did as Keith’s huge wolf form lunged for him. God knew Lance swooned on the spot. The power and speed well and truly befitting the man he loved and prided himself on being the mate of

“He’s certainly larger than I believed”

“You should see him in real life. He’s so fluffy and soft...”

“Coran had said he acted rather tame”

“Mhmm. Unless I’m threatened... Those jaws of his are no joke. My arm’s only just regained full function, which was a pain in the arse to hide from him”

“He bit you?”

“Only a little. Pidge was watching movies with me and he got startled by her”

“Shouldn’t you have healed?”

Ugh. Tell him about. Memory loss. Napping all day. His arm and his tongue... his hips... He had the utmost respect for pregnant people who were able to work through everything right until the end of the their pregnancy

“I can only guess everything I’ve got is going to the twins”

“Lance, you can’t be so careless with your body. We would all be devastated should something happen to you”

“I’m fine, Allura. I’ll be fine. It’s only a little longer and they’ll be here”

“Perhaps you should come stay here until you give birth? You could share my space... and we could have movie nights whenever you wished. Do each other’s hair. Paint our nails”

That sounded so damn tempting

“Thanks for the offer, but honestly, being home feels best. And Keith needs the space”

“I just don’t want you to feel like you’re alone...”

“I’m not. Besides, I know I always have you and Coran right here”

“Don’t you ever forget that. You’re like a brother to me...”

“And you’re like a sister to me. I can put up with some discomfort for a little while longer. It’s all going to be worth it when we finally get to meet them”

“I hope you know Allura is a fine name”

Lance chuckled

“I do. I’m sorry to tell you, but out of fairness to all our friends, we’re not going with your names. I love each and every one of you, and could never replace any of you. No. I have one name in mind, but we’ll wait and see”

“Alfor’s also a good name. So is Alfie...”

“And one day, when you have a child of your own, what are you going to do when I’ve stolen your name?”

Allura sighed

“I must admit, I hadn’t thought of that”

“You’ll be a great mum. But even if you don’t have kids, you’ll be a great aunty to the twins...”

“Oh, I’m going to spoil them rotten. We’re all so happy for you and Keith”

“I know... and speaking of Keith, I think he’s got Lotor on the run”

Pulling a well used trick, Lotor had scaled the wall and was now frowning down on Keith who was patiently watching his every move. Lance didn’t know if Keith would remember shifting, but he sure as heck was going to brag about it when they got home. His fiancé was best boy. He just needed to believe in himself the way Lance did.

[violetwolfraven]

sprace 49

Uhhhh there is no 49 so I’m just gonna assume you meant 46? (In hindsight I’m now thinking you meant the other prompt list and I am a moron but I already wrote this thing so???)

(For any pairing except javid) I have to tell Jack about my relationship but he’s basically everyone’s big brother and—

Get ready for some canon-era with a couple of background ships.

...

“Okay,” Race took a deep breath, “I can do this. I can do this.”

Albert rolled his eyes, “You’re worryin’ for nothin’, Racer. He’s gonna be fine with it.”

“Yeah,” Finch agreed, “I mean, he was fine with me and Albie.”

“And me and Romeo,” Specs added.

“Damn near all of us is queer,” Finch pointed out, “Including Jack, himself. It’ll be fine, Race.”

Race shook his head, “It’s different. Both of ya and your partners are Manhattan.”

“Sorry,” Mike said, looking a little confused but smiling all the same, “Who’re we talkin’ ‘bout? Racer has a lover outside of Manhattan?”

“Race is fucking Spot Conlon,” Albert supplied.

“Daaaaaaaaaamn! Good job, Racetrack!”

Race just rolled his eyes. He and Spot had been together officially—as in, on the same page, in love and they both know it—for over a year now, after a talk they’d had right after the strike. And even if it had kind of started out as a friends with benefits kind of deal, just making out whenever they both had some time, ‘fuck-buddies’ or whatever the hell half Race’s friends seemed to think they were, did not describe what they actually were at all.

Albert knew damn well they weren’t fuck-buddies—Race told his best friend enough that he knew that they weren’t even fucking yet—which was why Race felt the need to slap him with his hat.

Like he had wondered many times, Race wondered again why he had to go and choose the one who loved to cause chaos as his best friend.

“I’m sure he’ll be fine with it,” Mike said helpfully, “Jack likes when all of us is happy.”

“Yeah, but he’s also really protective,” Race groaned, “He’s like a big brother to me—to all of us!”

“So let him give Spot a shovel talk,” Specs said simply, “That’ll be the end of it. Mike’s right. Jack can be protective, but he’s happiest when all of us is happy.”

“I’s been your friend since we was littles, Racer,” Albert put in, “And I’ve never seen you as happy as you’s been since you and Spot got official.”

Race had to admit, he hadn’t been this happy since... well, he didn’t remember being this happy even when his folks were still alive.

Spot made him happy, made him brave, and that was why he was finally plucking up the courage to tell Jack about them.

“Okay,” he said, forcing a smile, “I’m gonna do it.”

Race’s friends cheered him on as he headed out to Jack’s fire escape penthouse.

“Jack, we needs to talk.”

Race was kind of counting his blessings that neither Crutchie nor Davey was out there, so he had a one-on-one with Manhattan’s leader.

Jack looked a bit concerned as he put down the pape he was drawing on and nodded.

“Okay. ‘Bout what?”

Race took a deep breath, “What would ya say if I was... if I was kinda...”

“Spit it out, Racer. What is it?”

“I’m courtin’ Spot Conlon,” Race blurted, forcing himself to keep looking Jack in the eye.

He was scared of his brother’s reaction, but he needed to see it all the same.

Jack looked at the ground, “Shit. Shit. Oh my God. How didn’t I see that?”

“I’m sorry,” Race offered.

“Don’t be,” Jack chuckled, “I mean, I got Ike sneakin’ out to Brooklyn already, thinkin’ he’s slick. I don’t know how I didn’t see you doin’ it, too.”

“You gots a lot of guys. Ya can’t possibly keep track of all of us. Besides, I’m one of the ones ya know can take care of himself.”

Jack snorted, “No. No, ya can’t. You’re just stupidly good at talkin’ your way out of fights. So, how long has this thing with Spot been goin’ on?”

Race finally felt like he could breathe. Jack was taking this a lot better than he thought he would.

“Officially, since right after the strike. But we was makin’ out outside sellin’ hours for a few months before that.”

Jack wrinkled his nose, “Okay, I didn’t need to know that last part. But... damn. It’s been over a year. Am I that oblivious?”

He seemed fine with it, but...

“Hey, what’s up?” Race asked, “You seem sad.”

Jack sighed, “I ain’t sad, Race. Not exactly. It’s just... ya know how hard things are for me and Davey, right? We barely ever get a minute just the two of us, and that ain’t even takin’ into account havin’ to keep things secret.”

“Yeah. Of course I knows that.”

“Spot lives in fuckin’ Brooklyn. Not only that—he’s got the responsibilities of leadin’ probably the biggest borough in New York. I mean, anything’s possible, but I just don’t see how ya could make that work. I don’t wanna see you get hurt.”

Race tilted his head, “We make it work now. ‘Sides, it ain’t like I’m the leader of Manhattan.”

“Racer...”

Race’s stomach dropped as he realized what Jack was really saying.

“Oh.”

“Race... I’m 18. I’m gettin’ too old for this, and Davey and I... we’s been lookin’ at apartments. This wasn’t how I wanted to break the news to ya, but... we can’t stay much longer. And when we go, Manhattan’ll be yours and Crutchie’s.”

Race had known this was coming for... well, ever since he became one of Jack’s seconds, when he was 12. He’d known it more in how slowly, over the last few months, he’d found himself being asked for input on various issues more and more often. Jack and Davey thought they were being subtle, but Race and Crutchie had noticed weeks ago.

He’d known it was coming, but that didn’t mean it didn’t ache, just thinking about the boy who’d watched over him for most of his childhood leaving.

“When?”

Jack sighed, shrugging, “I don’t know. Soon. Davey wants to wait till after winter—hand you and Crutchie the reins when it’ll be easy to keep everyone alive so’s ya can get used to it before it gets hard.”

“That makes sense,” Race reasoned, remembering how hard it was for Jack. He’d had to take the reins during a hard winter, because the previous leader of Manhattan died.

“Look,” Jack smiled, “I’m happy for ya, Racer. Spot, too. Really. And honestly, I’m not too worried about him hurtin’ you intentionally. I know you was close friends before ya even got together—which, by the way, I cannot believe ya didn’t tell me, you asshole—so he won’t raise a hand or probably even his voice to ya. But it’s one thing with Crutchie, sneakin’ around with that girl he met at Medda’s—“

“Crutchie’s sneakin’ around with a girl?” Race asked, honestly delighted by this bit of gossip.

“Yeah... he thinks I don’t know, but we sleep on the same fuckin’ fire escape. I followed him one time when he snuck out to see her. Anyway, it’s one thing with that. For one thing, Crutchie don’t have to keep his sweetheart a secret ‘less he wants to—she’s a girl.”

“You and Davey—“

“Let me finish, Racer. For another thing, Spot is King of Brooklyn. He’s got eyes on him most of the time and even when he doesn’t, there’s no way he could sneak to Manhattan regularly without gettin’ noticed. He’s probably only gotten away with bein’ with ya this long because you sell at Sheepshead.”

Race wanted to argue, but he had to admit... Spot almost never came to Manhattan. Race was always the one going to Brooklyn for him.

“If you’s one of Manhattan’s leaders, you gotta sell in Manhattan, and even after hours, there’s no way you can constantly sneak off to another borough without some of the wrong people noticin’.”

Damn. He was probably right. Race and Spot were stealing moments now. If Race was selling in Manhattan, it would be damn near impossible to get time. He definitely wouldn’t see Spot every day anymore, possibly not even every week.

“Look—Crutchie could do this by himself, long as he’s got some muscle backin’ him up. With Mush, Blink, and Elmer, among others, bein’ young enough to stick around a while, that shouldn’t be a problem. If you don’t wanna be leader, I can start gettin’ him ready for—“

“No.”

Race had known he was going to be helping lead when Jack grew up and left since he was 12. He was 16 now—one of the older ones. He’d been instinctively protecting the others for years. He already looked at most of the younger ones as younger brothers.

Race had been ready for a long time to protect his younger brothers, no matter the cost.

Even if that cost was a closer relationship with the boy he loved.

“Spot and I can do a long-distance thing,” he said, “We’ll be fine. I’ll tell him... sometime. Tell me when you and Davey are movin’ out... I don’t know, but just tell me at least a little in advance.”

Jack nodded, “Okay. It won’t be for another couple months, at least, but...”

Race definitely wasn’t getting choked up. Those definitely weren’t tears in Jack’s eyes. It was just...

The Newsies were the only family either of them had known since they were little. Jack had been protecting Race, or trying to, at least, since they were about 5 and 7.

Race consoled himself with how it wasn’t like they’d really be saying goodbye. Jack had given up that old dream of Santa Fe. He was staying close, which meant he could visit, but...

Damn. Race was going to miss him.

“So, Spot’s good to ya?” Jack asked, “He treats ya right? Stops if ya ask?”

Race nodded, “Yeah. Yeah, of course. He’s... he’s great. I mean, he don’t seem to think he deserves me, or at least he didn’t, at first. He kept tellin’ me about all the kills he had to make as if that’d make me walk away.”

“Hmm...” Jack patted his shoulder, “Maybe we needs to have a talk about your taste in men, Racer. Do I need to tell Davey ‘bout who you’s courtin’?”

Race laughed, “Please don’t. I’ll tell him myself and you can have a worried talk ‘bout me later.”

“We ain’t your mom and dad, kid”

“Coulda fooled me, dad.”

Jack laughed, and Race had to admit, that hug made him feel a lot better about... well, everything.

“Seriously, though—you, me, and Davey—we’re goin’ over to Brooklyn tomorrow night. We’re gonna say we got business to talk, but really, me and Davey are gonna talk to your boy. Can’t have anyone hurtin’ Manhattan’s future leader, can we?”

Race laughed. Honestly, the idea of anyone giving Spot fucking Conlon a shovel talk was hilarious to him.

But, that was just Race’s family. He wouldn’t have it any other way.

[howlingmedic]

Coming Home: Chapter 3

Coming Home: 

Previous | Next

Synopsis: what happens when the person who finally made their world make sense is taken from them? What happens when the people who were supposed find her can’t?

Warnings: angst, references to religion, fighting, miscommunication, references to blood, idiots in love who don't know what to do with themselves

Relationship: Stucky x Angel!OFC

A/N: There may be a very long delay before the next update because I’m questioning the plot twist I initially wrote. This is especially true because this entirety of Allie’s character and this ship was developed with a friend of mine (the lovely @magellan-88), and there are aspects from that development that I’ve referenced in future chapters that I did not adequately explain. So, in short, you might have to wait a little while to read more about these three, but the next few chapters may be longer as a result of needing to write some flashback scenes into them. Also, I work in healthcare...during a pandemic... and am a student. My life is a shit show. Please be patient.

Chapter Three: Reaching Out

“God damn it!” Bucky’s words bounced off the walls of the tiny apartment they were squatting in this week. It had been two months of searching and getting nowhere. Two months of no new answers. Two months of one of them storming off in a huff when tensions ran too high for them to manage. In that time, Tony had concluded that Allie’s tracker had to have been destroyed. That was one lead gone. Natasha hadn’t found anything conclusive, never anything more than a whisper here or a whisper there. Each eagerly followed up on and found to be nothing. Banner had been the only successful one, but only insofar as having everyone ready to assemble and pouring over lore that could come in handy. Loki had, at least, miraculously, offered to stay on Earth. When Steve had asked why, the god had just smirked and said they had “history.”

So when Bucky screamed out his frustrations, Steve could hardly blame him. What he didn’t have was anything useful to help his partner. Instead, all Steve could do was murmur, “Don’t think anyone in Allie’s family is gonna help us, babe,” and hug the other man from behind. “Come take a break. S’almost 2 in the morning. Ya gotta sleep,” he added with a kiss to Bucky’s temple.

“‘M comin’ in just behind ya. Gotta try a couple more things first,” Bucky mumbled as he leaned back into Steve’s touch and tilted his head up to kiss the blonde’s cheek.

“Doll…” Steve whispered while he combed his fingers through Bucky’s tangled hair that had lost so much of its usual shine. “Just don’t forget to rest.”

“I’m not, I just gotta try one more time.”

“Ya gonna try praying again?” Steve asked with an attempt to keep his tone neutral. So many of their fights had started over the topic of praying, but he didn’t want to fight. He had a favor to ask.

“Yeah, Stevie, I am,” Bucky huffed with the same anger he had felt so many times over the last two months rising to the surface again, each time more quickly than the last. “I haven’t lost faith in her hearing me,” he added in a low growl.

“Don’t you dare think I’ve given up!” Steve bellowed and shoved himself back from Bucky’s chair. His own fury had begun to have a hairpin trigger these last couple months, and Bucky’s anger drew it out faster than anything else in this word. It didn’t help anything that he wished he could reach out to his angel like that.

Bucky stared back at him expectantly, his chest rising and falling rapidly with the effort to rein in his frustration. Enough years of watching Steve had taught him precisely what the way the blonde’s head had just fallen forward and his shoulders had just sagged meant: this anger wasn’t directed at him, at least not entirely. This anger was pointed inward. So, he waited for whatever was about to follow.

“I just… I can’t make myself,” Steve whispered, and shame practically dripped from his every word. “Every time I try, I get stuck in my head and start worrying about what it means if she can’t hear me.” Steve swallowed hard and dug into his eyes with the heels of hands for a moment before adding even more quietly, “I was gonna ask ya to tell her that I love her and miss her. I don’t want her to think I gave up, and if you do… then shit. Can’t imagine what she thinks.”

Bucky sighed and opened his mouth to respond, but he stopped and simply extended his arms towards Steve. The blonde’s head still hung low, but he shuffled over to sit in Bucky’s lap. “She would know exactly what to do right now to make us stop snapping at each other,” Steve whispered into Bucky’s neck.

“Sit here with me while I pray, doll. Ya don’t have to say anything, but it’d mean a lot if you’d stay,” Bucky answered. Steve lifted his head, and his brow furrowed. Bucky pressed on before the blonde could speak, “I’ve been snapping at you cause I’ve felt alone, like we haven’t been working together out here, and then I started praying cause we ain’t got shit to work with, but that’s one way I can feel like I’m doing something. I finally had something I could do, and you kept getting upset about it.”

“I only wished-” Steve started, and Bucky shook his head.

“I know that now, ya punk, and I get it… but please stay.”

“Alright, jerk,” Steve answered sweetly, and he nestled himself in impossibly close to Bucky, making his large frame as small as humanly possible.

Bucky fell silent, and his eyes closed just like when he would meditate, but this felt different. There was a slight charge to the air like when Allie would use her grace, and Bucky’s lips turned up the tiniest fraction of an inch. Tears sprung up at the corner of Steve’s eyes as he sat there curled up in his fiancé’s lap, longing for when a moment like this had once felt so natural. When feeling this connected was as simple as breathing. His eyes fell closed as one tear slid down his cheek. Where are you? He thought desperately, every fiber of his being screaming the question and hoping Allie could hear him. No, not hoping, praying, he realized, and his own lips twitched upwards.

He didn’t hear an answer, and he knew he wouldn’t. Allie had explained more times than he cared to count that she couldn’t answer their prayers since they weren’t angels. When this conversation was had during good times, Bucky usually met that explanation by whining, “then make us angels.” Steve was about to chuckle at the memory when something flashed on the computer in front of them, and he lept out of Bucky’s lap.

“What the -” Bucky started, with more than a touch of frustration in his voice, but that was as far as he got before his mouth snapped shut. “What is it?” he asked in a rush.

“Sam’s coming back,” Steve answered in a deadly cold voice, “he found an angel blade at the compound.” That was when Steve turned to Bucky. He couldn’t face the last fact alone. “There’s blood on it.”

The next few seconds stretched into an eternity punctuated by several sounds. First, there was the clatter of Bucky’s chair hitting the floor. Then, there was Bucky’s whispered, “No.” There were a few footsteps that rang unnaturally loud in Steve’s ears. Next came the sound of two hundred pounds of a man hitting the ground without any attempt to break his fall. The last was his own voice saying, “Bucky, baby, don’t give up on her. The blade is gonna go to the lab and get a whole lot of testing done before we know if she was hurt by it, ok?” That one shocked Steve the most. Not because he barely registered getting up and moving to Bucky’s side, but because his voice came out level.

“She didn’t use her blade, Stevie. Not before she got grabbed,” Bucky argued through what sounded like a throat that was rapidly tightening with unshed tears.

“No, but we don’t know what happened after that, doll. Anything could’ve happened then,” Steve pointed out and settled himself on the floor before tugging Bucky into his lap. It was his turn to comfort his partner. “Doll, I know I was reluctant to pray, and we can talk about the rest of that issue later, but when you were praying, I sorta accidentally prayed?” Steve admitted in a voice that ended up sounding far more like a question than he had intended. “I didn’t really mean to, I was working through what little we knew, and then I got so frustrated that I sorta mentally screamed at her. Well, that’s when the message from Sam popped up. So maybe it’s a good sign,” Steve explained, and, for the first time in weeks, he sounded hopeful, genuinely hopeful, even to himself.

Bucky turned around in Steve’s lap to look at him properly, and Steve had expected the disbelief to be etched into the other’s features. What he hadn’t planned for anger to be there as well. “You prayed once. One god damned time and you mighta gotten a response. I’ve been praying every single night for weeks!” Bucky seethed as the plates in his arms whirred ominously.

“Hold on,” Steve barked and grabbed Bucky’s hands, lacing his fingers with both flesh and metal ones before he tried to placate the man in front of him. Steve locked his eyes with Bucky’s that were alight with anger and tried to find a way to put into words what he had felt, “Before I started, I could feel the charge in the air that’s there when Allie uses her grace, like the residual energy that it gives off. It was like I could feel her here. Didn’t you feel that?” He ended with the question that was both a plea for calm and confirmation that he hadn’t lost his mind.

Bucky’s face bunched up with thought, but his face was still etched with anger. Now confusion was added to the mix, at least, until it wasn’t anymore. His features went slack, and the anger drained from his eyes when he looked back up at Steve. “Yeah, I guess I did. I think I had felt that before too, but I had written it off as wishful thinking. A trick of the mind that I had conjured up to keep from losing hope.”

“I think it was real. I think she’s trying to reach us, Buck, even if that message from Sam was a coincidence. She’s been here,” Steve choked out, and now his throat felt tight. His eyes burned with tears of relief. Suddenly, two strong arms were pulling him into a muscled chest.

“She’s alive.”

[sethrine-writes]

Daughter of a Devil, Ch. 17

Main Characters:  Father!Dante & Daughter!Reader

Words:  1317

Warnings:  Injury, Angry Reader

Story Summary:  Being a parent wasn’t easy, nor was there such thing as being perfect at it. Good news for Dante, seeing as how he doesn’t have the slightest idea in hell what to do with a child. Sometimes, he was certain that fighting off a horde of demons was a far better match than keeping up with his own daughter. Well, at least he wasn’t going down without a fight.

A/N:  Hey. It’s been a minute. Let’s get right into it, shall we?

------

Chapter 17 - Just Another Moment (19 yrs.)

“Hey, you gonna be okay?”

You looked up at Nero who was now beside you on his haunches, watching as he carefully took hold of your wrist and pulled your injured arm forward a bit. There was a slight wince on your part, but it was more the pull of muscle that gave the painful twinge.

That last battle had been hell. Not only did you get injured by that scientist creep, Agnus, but Nero had also had a severe revelation about himself that was weighing heavily on his mind. Granted, you had been rather surprised by the anger that had taken over him during the fight, of which had been a high catalyst to his rather abrupt…transformation.

You had only ever seen such a thing happen to your father only a handful of times, the first being when you were very young and didn’t know anything about such happenings. Fear of the unknown had paralyzed you, then, warped many a nightmare until you had been able to come to terms with what you had seen. Nero's transformation, however, had left you baffled, speechless.

That, of course, hadn't gone over so well, as Nero saw your astonishment as more of a negative reaction and had taken double efforts to hide his right arm from your sight.

To make matters worse, Sanctus had Kyrie, a woman you had come to know Nero adored greatly, and he had made it his new mission to find her. His target was no longer Dante at that point, but you knew that you’d be seeing your dear father sometime soon if you helped Nero with his goal. You were basically after the same people, in a sense, so helping Nero also helped you, in the long run.

“I’m fine, I’m fine," you eased with a slightly strained smile, "I just need a moment, if you don’t mind.”

Nero studied you as you continued to breathe deeply, holding subconsciously to your left side with your uninjured arm. You were fairly certain he couldn't see how severe the injury was, which was good, but there was definitely blood seeping through your shirt.

What a hell of a moment to get yourself hurt.

“Here, let me help you up. We’ll get to a safer place for you to rest.”

You would have loved to argue that you’d be just fine after a few minutes, but you could tell that the injuries would be a bigger hindrance moving forward than you wanted them to be. There was no use in beating around the bush - at the moment, you were practically useless.

With a nod of your head, you reached up and managed only a pained grunt as Nero helped you to your feet, his arm keeping you steady as you leaned a good portion of your weight into him. He led you to a secluded area with decent coverage all around, carefully lowering you back down against a solid wall to rest. You sighed then, hoping that all you would need was a bit of rest so that the wounds could mend properly on their own.

“Well, kid, didn’t think I’d see you again so soon.”

You had never been so simultaneously furious and relieved in one fraction of a second; the feeling almost gave you whiplash.

Nero turned just as quickly with a scowl on his face, his frame blocking yours rather well from the sight of Dante. You could already feel the anger rising in your veins; it would have been worse had you not previously been injured.

“You…. What are you doing here?”

“Can’t a guy walk around and enjoy the scenery without being judged?”

You could practically hear the smirk in his words as he taunted Nero. It was obvious he had sought out the young man for something, and you had a feeling it was because of the sword, Yamato, that Nero was in possession of. Of course, this thought was in the back of your mind as the main thing running full-force at the front of your noggin was to murder your father - in the most lovingly of ways, of course.

“Forget it. We don’t have time for your bullshit.”

“Who said anything about bullshit? I’m just here to collect a couple things of mine that you seem to have at the moment.”

“Psh, fat chance, old man.”

“Again with the ‘old man’ bit, eh? Ya know, you remind me of my daughter.”

“Is that so?”

Nero’s reply was rather mocking, though the next thing that left your father’s mouth had you seeing red.

“Yeah, you know what they say. All children act the same.”

You gave Nero a minimal warning as you pulled out Rein and shot several rounds in Dante’s direction. The rounds bypassed Nero and, much to your immediate satisfaction, found purchase in Dante’s body. You continued firing at him until your clip ran dry and all that came was a small ‘click’ sound.

Through the haze of anger, you had only seen the first few shots hit him, one in the head and another three in the chest. Now that you were finally calming down, you realized that they were the only shots that hit as he had easily dodged the others. You should have gotten furious all over again, but you were now much calmer and only held a small simmer of anger for your father.

“You asshole, you left me! You freaking left me in this damn city by myself! What kind of man does that to his daughter?!”

“His…his daughter?” Nero questioned as he looked to you with narrowed, disbelieving eyes. They widened when all the pieces suddenly clicked into place, and you could only offer a halfhearted smile before eyeballing Dante with your remaining disdain.

“Hey, you were the one that said you wanted a little more freedom, squirt. Gotta learn the ropes on your own merits. That's what you wanted, right?”

You glared at your smirking father, watching as Dante wiped away the blood that had come from the already closed wound on his head. You could have sworn he was immortal; any shot you ever hit him with, purpose or accident, never seemed to do that much damage. It was infuriating, but you couldn't help but be thankful, all the same.

“I didn’t mean in a freaking city I’ve never seen nor heard about! What if I had died, you idiot?”

Dante rolled his eyes as he moved forward to inspect the damage done to your frame, taking great care not to hurt you anymore than was necessary.

“Stop overreacting. You know damn well I wouldn’t let anything bad happen to you. This, however, wasn’t in the plan. You’ll be out of action for a good hour or so, squirt, so get used to lying around for a while.”

“Ugh, just…perfect!”

You looked over to Nero, calming your features while giving a small smile. “Sorry for slowing you down so much, Nero.”

“Why didn’t you tell me he was your father?”

You gave a small frown at the strange, almost hurt look on the other man’s face. “I tried once, but we were interrupted. It wasn’t very important at the time, and it never came up again.”

“Probably for the better,” Dante cut in suddenly. “If he had known, he would have probably tried to kill you, too. And you know how Daddy is when it comes to boys.”

“You know what, old man, I think I’ll have to take you down a notch,” Nero quipped before you could throw in your two-cents, his threat more than clear. It seemed to be what Dante wanted, as he gave a smirk and all but dared Nero to come closer.

“Hey, not by me!” you shouted as the two drew their weapons of choice. “At least have the decency to let me heal first without giving me another cut to worry about!”

[porkchop-ao3]

A Thrill I’ve Never Known (Chapter 58)

Full Circle

Sorry for the wait! Hope you like this one. Warning for abuse mention, and lots of conflict. 

Tagging @emily-strange ❤

(All chapters tagged with #ATINK and also posted on Ao3, username PorkChop)

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I only got a few feet from the saloon when I spotted him; Micah, riding into Van Horn. I spurred Rayna forwards quicker, waving a hand and calling out to grab his attention. He noticed me and stopped dead, leaving me to close the gap, I stopped beside him. The look on his face was one of pure shock, clearly not expecting to bump into me.

"Hey, you better turn around," I said, jerking my chin back the way he came. 

He took a moment to respond, "and why's that, missy?" 

"'Cause there's Pinkertons in that bar," I answered, going to leave immediately. Micah reached out and grabbed my arm though, and I stopped Rayna suddenly before he could drag me off the moving horse. Rayna whinnied and I turned to scowl at Micah, wrenching my arm out of his grip. 

"And what're you doing drinking with the Pinkertons?" He asked. 

"I wasn't. I got out of there as quick as I could. And if you've got any sense, you'll do the same."

"How do I know you ain't working with them? You know we've been wondering who our rat is–"

"We ain't got a goddamn rat. Why'd you think they're out here in Van Horn, asking locals about us? They don't know where we are. Now come on," I hissed, carrying on. 

Micah turned and followed me, heading northwards out of Van Horn. He matched my pace, trotting alongside me for some ungodly reason. I could sense him looking at me, and when I met his gaze his eyes were narrowed, suspicious, analytical.

"It don't look too good, you know. You and Morgan disappear for the night, then I find you in Van Horn, knowing all about what the Pinkertons are doing," he growled at me, and a swell of nausea made my mouth water and my palms sweat. He was right. It absolutely didn't look good. "I wonder what Dutch will say." 

My eyes flashed wide and I stammered out my response. "Well, Dutch'll likely put a bullet or two in me if you go spinning stories like that."

"They ain't stories, though. The way I see it, I've got plenty reason to be suspicious."

"Well, I can't exactly deny that. I see how it looks, Micah, but I have to ask; why on earth would I choose now to drop you all in it?" I questioned.

"So you and lover-boy can get out with a mere slap on the wrist," he proposed, and I couldn't help but scoff.

"The hard-on the law's got for Arthur? Ain't no way in hell they'd strike a deal with him," I argued. "Anyway, they don't know who I am, I sat and had a full blown conversation with one of 'em and he had no idea."

"I don't know if we can trust you," he snarled at me with narrowed eyes.

"You think if I was working for the Pinkertons I'd've warned you about 'em? Hell no, I would've just sent you in and gone to watch when they hanged you, you moron," I snapped, rolling my eyes.

"Mm, I'm surprised you ain't tried killing me yourself– oh wait, you did," he rumbled dramatically and I grimaced in distaste.

"My God, Micah, could you exaggerate any more?" I sighed, quickly losing my patience. "You yanked my hair, you could've been going to strike me, or put a knife in me, I reacted on impulse."

"Sure you did," he drawled, baring his teeth at me. 

"My brother used to yank my hair like that right before he slammed his knee into my stomach, or my face, depending on how much of a mess he wanted to make. Ain't felt that in a long time, I weren't in control of my actions!" I hissed, raising my voice and glaring at him as though I could murder him with my gaze. Micah recoiled, blinking at me. "I need you to give me a goddamn break!"

"A break? Ain't that all you've had this past week?" He retorted.

"Cause healing after being set on fire's such a break. God, just leave me the hell alone, I ain't interested in speaking to you."

"That ain't nice. 'Specially since we're headed the same way, back to camp."

"I ain't going back to camp."

"Then where you going?"

"Back to Brandywine Drop, where I'm staying the night, lord knows I ain't ready to go back to that goddamn camp where everyone's walking 'round on eggshells. I did you a damn favour back there," I jabbed a thumb over my shoulder, "do me one and let me be."

"Oh but I did you a favour when I stopped Mr. Schwartz from having his way with you, remember that? I could'a sold you to him and you would've been in that house as his personal whore to this day, but I didn't, out of the kindness of my heart," he told me theatrically, bracing a hand against his chest and cocking his head at me. "I should've taken the damn deal, would've if I knew you'd be doing the same shit now just with a different feller."

"What do you mean?" I demanded and he tittered almost drunkenly.

"You're Morgan's whore, now. He's got you to take away from camp for a little hanky-panky whenever he needs to blow off steam. God knows that's all you're good for, 'specially since you stopped bringing money in."

I did no more than scowl at him, unable to think of something to say despite scrambling for words in my mind.

"Just a pity that I didn't get there first. I could've had you, hell, anyone could, I know it. He just had a head start," Micah continued, boiling my blood. It was so hard to rise above it.

"You keep telling yourself that, if it'll make you feel better believing I'd ever consider letting you near me."

"God, you're full of yourself!" He spat.

"Rather that than have such a low opinion of myself as someone must have to lie down for a man like you. When was the last time you had a woman, huh? Maybe that's why you're so insufferable to be around, maybe if you blew off steam as often as Arthur does," I was running my mouth now, letting the words flow as they pleased. I didn't care. I stopped Rayna in the middle of the trail, and Baylock stopped just a second after, putting Micah and I right next to each other, though I happened to be facing him since I was sitting side-saddle.

Micah chuckled darkly. "You're more fun when you're pissed off," the sharp pronunciation of his 'p' sent spit flying at my face and I flinched. 

"Dodging the question, I see," I quirked a brow, challenging him, almost.

"You seem mighty interested to know," he mocked, mirroring my tilted brow.

"Don't even think about suggesting what I think you're suggesting."

"You asked about it," he pointed out, shrugging his shoulders.

"You are insufferable," I growled through clenched teeth.

"Aw, it's okay, I know you're just scared," he cooed, leaning forwards. I leaned back.

"Scared of what, exactly?" I questioned.

There was a pause. An uncomfortable one where he was staring right into my eyes and I couldn't look away from the cold blue of his.

"The fire," he whispered. I blinked, thought about my burns, but it was as if he made the mental leap too and was quick to clarify. "The one that burns between you and I every time we bicker like this."

I screwed my face up. "Excuse me?"

"There's a lot of heady tension between you and I, the kind that feels like we'll either kill each other or fuck each other when it all comes to a head," he smirked with his teeth flashing, the gap that Arthur had made appearing almost cavernous as I eyed it.

"I know which one I'd put money on," I muttered.

"Me too," he hummed, and added in a voice that was low and teasing; "princess…"

"You gotta quit calling me that, I swear to God," I growled. He giggled like a child and I narrowed my eyes. 

"Like I said, you're more fun when you're pissed off."

"God, I hate you," I sighed, and went to ride again when he caught my arm, almost dragging me off my horse a second time. "Micah!"

"The more you say that the more I like you," he practically snarled, despite his words, his voice wasn't kind. "Oh, just think of the fun we'd have."

His grip slid down to my hand, gripping it tight. It was so weird, and I flashed my startled gaze up to his eyes. He tugged his reins to force Baylock closer and when he let go of them, his hand moved to my face, gripping my chin tight enough to hurt. I flinched a little but I was otherwise frozen in place as he twisted my face towards him, and wearing a somewhat smug smile, he leaned towards me and I panicked, sucking in a sharp breath a second before his lips met mine. 

I hated him. I had just said that to his face. We'd just bickered and argued and insulted each other and not ten minutes ago he was accusing me of ratting the whole gang out to the Pinkertons and suddenly he was kissing me. Something about the situation did not sink in immediately and I sat frozen on my horse, eyes sprung wide, just staring, as his lips worked against mine; harshly, almost could be described as an assault. His moustache scratched at my upper lip and I caught the scent of sweat and cigarettes and it was so different to Arthur's own smell that it pulled me out of my stupor and urged my muscles to move. 

I wrenched myself away, but swung the momentum his way so that he was the one shoved backwards, grappling for his reins before he fell off of Baylock; the horse whinnied and side stepped anxiously at the ruckus. I stared at Micah, my mouth hanging open wordlessly, so astounded by his actions that my mind was just blank.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" I breathed, not having it in me to yell. He righted himself on his horse, turned his head just slightly my way to side-eye me. 

"What, you didn't like that?" He drawled with a shit-eating smirk.

"What is it with you kissing me?" I shook my head.

"I'm just having fun with ya', sweet thing," he laughed.

"It ain't no fun! I just don't understand you," I shook my head, hearing my own voice waver. A lump formed in my throat and my eyes prickled with moisture, and I wasn't completely sure why until the guilt caught up with me. 

I thought of Arthur. I thought of Micah's lips being against mine for far longer than they should've been, and how I hadn't shoved him away instantly. How could I have frozen like that and let it go on for longer than necessary? Arthur… this would hurt him. I knew it.

"Fuck you, Micah," I spat, then spurred Rayna forwards, riding quickly away, hoping that Micah didn't see the tears escape down my cheeks.

-

I set up the tent and the campfire on the other side of the train tracks at Brandywine Drop, clearer ground than before so I'd have a better chance at spotting any wildlife that came sniffing. I was still reeling from Micah's kiss, my upper lip feeling as though it was burning, like I'd taken a sip of coffee too soon, but it wasn't the pleasant warm tingle that Arthur's kisses always left with me. It was the wiry scratch of a moustache and the bruising insistence of unwanted lips. My hands still shook and I cried all the way back to our camp, trying to be quiet and subtle in case I passed anyone but unable to stop the sobs that rocked me every now and then when I thought of Arthur. My Arthur, the thing I loved more than anything on the Earth, and now I'd hurt him without him even realising. 

I couldn't stop crying! Even as I sat by the fire and tried to pull myself together, the pent up emotion from the past months flooded me and I let loose; it was so, so difficult to contain once the final straw broke the camel's back. I realised I'd suppressed more than I thought and despite feeling pathetic, I let myself take the moment. I hoped by letting it all out, I could have some sort of control over myself once Arthur returned, and I had to tell him.

Because I really did have to. This wasn't something I could attempt to hide from Arthur, even if I wanted to. Arthur and I had built a relationship on communication and honesty, I wasn't about to go against that. I knew that finding out about this would upset him, anger him, but not half as much as it would if he found out at a later date from Micah.

I spent the remainder of the daylight gathering berries and herbs and carrots from the surrounding area, snacking on a crunchy raw carrot while I waited for Arthur to return from his work. I calmed down eventually, drying my tears and pulling myself together, my emotion draining and leaving me feeling lethargic and placid. I understood that it would change once Arthur returned, and I still felt guilt churn up my gut whenever I thought about what had happened. 

I was sitting with my sketchbook, doodling Rayna as a distraction, when I heard hoof beats and looked up to find Arthur. But it struck me as I saw a figure emerge that there was more than one set of hoof beats, and immediately the hairs raised on the back of my neck and I dropped my sketchbook, pushing myself to my feet. The light from the fire touched the figure, illuminating it properly. It was a man, but not my Arthur, and he had his repeater trained right on me. A gasp pulled through my throat, and my eyes flashed to a second man. I recognised him immediately; considering I'd been speaking to him in the saloon only a matter of hours ago. 

"Agent Wilson of the Pinkerton Detective agency," he re-introduced himself as he swung down off the dappled grey horse he was riding. Strolling towards me, he retrieved something from his belt; a pair of metal cuffs. "Though we have been acquainted already, haven't we, Miss?"

"Yes sir, I believe we have," I said as confidently as I could, trying to keep the frown from my face. 

"We know who you are, Ma'am. Now, I'm gonna have to ask you to come with me," he told me firmly, and my hand twitched towards my gun belt, but the other agent's gun was still pointing at me. "Come on, now. Don't do anything stupid. Put your hands where I can see 'em. Go on, up."

I hesitated, looking between the two men. I weighed my chances. If I pulled my gun, I likely wouldn't have time to land a shot before the other agent did. He was aimed and ready. I was cornered, and soon made even more helpless by the additional three men appearing behind me, and two at my side, all on foot and each with another gun pointed at me. This was it, I had no way out.

I raised my hands up in the air, clenching my jaw as agent Wilson stepped towards me.

"Turn around," he ordered. With a breath I did as I was told, and soon my arms were being pulled behind my back, locked in place by the cuffs. I let my eyes fall closed and felt everything drain from me, going numb. I flinched as the agent crouched and lifted the bottom of my skirt to reveal my ankles, binding those with metal too. 

"What have I done? I've done nothing wrong," I argued, though my words were tired.

"We know you're with Van Der Linde. Nice little show you put on at the bar, but uh… some new information has since come to light," he told me. My mind instead turned to the possible ways that they could've found out. I'd said nothing, hadn't I? Did one of them recognise me? Why hadn't they done something about it while I was there?

"Where'd this information come from? What goddamn proof do you have? I'm nobody," I hissed, and Wilson just laughed, tugging me towards the horses. I groaned as he suddenly grabbed me and lifted me up, tossing me roughly onto the back of the other agent's horse. The thump against my stomach as I landed threatened to empty it. 

"Don't you worry about that," he answered as we started riding, going at a leisurely trot. My mind reeled. How on earth could they know? And how did they know where to find me?

I went cold as realisation hit me. There was only one person who knew the Pinkertons were in Van Horn. There was only one person who knew that I'd spoken to them. 

Micah.

"It was that goddamn bastard, weren't it?" I growled through bared teeth, rage flaring up.

I heard Wilson chuckling. "Calm down, Miss."

"You tell me, someone told you about me, didn't they? You've got a snitch. Goddammit tell me!" I yelled, struggling on the back of the horse, pulling at the cuffs on my wrists and ankles, crying out when it cut into my burnt skin.

"Stop moving or you'll fall off, and I ain't stopping to pick you up again every two damn minutes," the agent above me snapped over his shoulder.

"Micah! Micah Bell, he's working for you, ain't he?" I screamed. 

"Smart lady, this one," Wilson laughed and I panted, my eyes wide, breathless as I stared at the moving ground. I was stunned, my mind blank apart from the knowledge that this was real. Micah was the rat, working with the Pinkertons and screwing over every single one of us. 

It explained why he was in Van Horn. He must've been going to speak with them, but I interfered. And when I'd pissed him off a final time with that kiss, he'd told them exactly who I was… and where I was. I sagged on the horse, watching my hair swing in front of my face, watching the rocks and dirt kick up from the horse's hooves. The fight left me, and I wondered if I'd been better off going for my gun back there, taking my chances… It was useless. I almost certainly would've taken a bullet. 

But now they were carrying me off to God knows where. God knows why. They already had Micah, he was probably telling them everything they needed to know, they probably knew where the gang was camping, what they were planning, everything. So what would I be able to give them that Micah couldn't? I wasn't a high profile outlaw, I didn't have thousands of dollars worth of bounty money on me. In the grand scheme of things, I really was nobody.

Unless they were picking us off one by one. Well, it would make sense, they had been extremely unsuccessful in trying to ambush us as a whole group, it seemed it didn't matter how many men they threw at us, they weren't a match for the most capable guns in the Van Der Linde gang all joined together. The only way they could succeed would be by thinning the numbers, trying to get to the most capable men, strike while they were alone.

I swung my head up, eyes wide as I frantically looked around. There were just two men with me, Wilson and the unnamed agent whose horse I was on. The other five men… they were still back at my camp. Waiting. I felt sick, my mouth watering and my skin puckering up with goosebumps. 

I wasn't nobody. I was extremely useful. My ties to Dutch's best man, my relationship with him that Micah had almost certainly informed the Pinkertons of, it put me slap bang in the middle of the first phase of this new plan. I could've laughed – if it wasn't such a dark situation – at the way things had come full circle for me. 

I was bait.

[something-tofightfor]

Ransom - two

Pairing: Logan Delos x Reader (Ink AU)

Word Count: 7834

Rating: NSFW (Talk of kidnapping, actual kidnapping, language, violence, physical abuse of a female, death)

Trigger Warnings: Kidnapping, physical abuse

Author’s Note:  I debated on whether or not to go dark with this one, but I needed to in order to truly set the tone. You’ve been adequately warned, and it’s not my fault if you choose to ignore the warning or the tags and you read something you don’t like. 

Summary: You’ve been taken... but by who? Will Logan figure it out - and can he find a way to get to you in time? 

Though you didn’t appreciate the way the Host’s chest was pressed to your back, or the way it felt to have his arms settled against your sides as he held the horse’s reins, you tolerated it. It’s part of the narrative, meant to keep me off guard, focused on that instead of… “You know where we’re goin’?” He leaned in, speaking into your ear. “Boss is lookin’ forward to having a conversation with you.” That… You frowned, eyes darting over to where the second man was, his horse a few yards ahead and to the left of you. “Lost Spring’s a great place to go, ain’t it?” 

 “Yeah, it was…” You swallowed, shaking your head and glancing down at your bound hands. “I like it.” You took a deep breath, chewing on your lower lip. Get him talking, you want to learn more about this narrative, you need to… “So, aren’t there usually three of you? Sheriff told me…”

 “Three? Nah. It’s just me an’ O’Conner over there.” He gestured with one hand, and your frown deepened. “We work alone, ‘seasier that way.” He must have been wrong when he told me, but… 

 “And the horses? He said that you guys always have gray -”

 “This has been my horse since we robbed that rancher in Sweetwater couplea months ago, and that one’s been O’Conner’s since the same night.” Sweetwater? But the … The Abernathys? There’s not supposed to be a connection, these are new Hosts. You felt uneasy, but maybe the Sheriff had fed you incorrect information, maybe it was meant to not make it as easy to be rescued. Logan will find me. 

 “How much longer do we have until we get to… wait, what’s your name?” You turned your head to the side, teeth digging into your lip. “Gotta know what to call you, right?” The man stayed quiet, so you continued. “We’ve been riding for hours, and I don’t -”

 “Tanner. You can call me Tanner.” He sighed, flicking his wrists and urging the horse faster. “An’ we’ve got a couple hours til we get to where we’re goin’.” Couple hours? That doesn’t make sense. You scanned the horizon, eyes moving without turning your head. We’re not going into the hills, we’re going… You glanced up, looking for the sun, and finding it behind you. That’s wrong, it should be overhead or to the left, it… we’re going into the desert. Heart beating faster, you stayed quiet, but you were no longer at ease. What did I get myself into? 

 --- 

 Two hours later, you were still keeping pace with the sun, and if your memory served you correctly, you were headed for the Lowlands, toward the sea. What’s this way? There’s no way the Lost Springs Sheriff would come out here, this isn’t… Tanner had sidled up with O’Conner, the two men talking quietly, and though you tried to listen, you were focused on the way the sun was beating down on you, your bare shoulders on fire. I wish I had my hat. You’d thought that you and Logan would go back to your room before the narrative started, giving you a chance to pick it up, but things had happened quickly, and you’d been taken without anything covering your head. I’m going to be so burned. “We’re stoppin’ for a minute.” Tanner spoke again, pulling his horse away from the other man. “Gonna let you use the facilities if you need to before we finish this.” Finish? But you were grateful for the break, grateful to get off of the horse and stretch your legs, even if only for a few minutes. 

 “Thank you.” As your feet his the sand, you groaned, closing your eyes. “You don’t have any w-” 

 “Don’t test your luck.” Tanner was unwinding the rope from your wrists, undoing one of the knots that Logan had tied to give you use of one hand. “I’ll give you enough slack to go into that grass over there, but if you try anythin’, I’ll shoot you in the foot.” Inhaling sharply, you nodded before you moved. “Go.” You stepped quickly away from the man, though once you reached the end of the rope’s length, he followed. At least he’s giving me that, even though he said he… You thought as you squatted down, the grass reaching your shoulders, trying to come up with a solution. Though the two men hadn’t said much else to you, you knew that you hadn’t been abducted by the Hosts that you were supposed to have been taken by, which meant that someone had taken you purposely. But who? No one knows I’m here, and… I’m no one. 

 You would have understood if they’d taken Logan, but you? It didn’t make sense. I could take one of them down. They’re Hosts, even if they shoot at me, it won’t… But you knew that it would hurt, and if both of them shot at you at once, you’d go down to the ground, letting the other get to you. You had no weapon, no way of defending yourself aside from your hands, and you were in the middle of nowhere. Tanner called out to you and you popped your head up, letting him see that you were still where he wanted you, and then as you stood up, buttoning your pants, he pulled the rope roughly, leading you back to him. He switched places with O’Conner, and while Tanner turned away to relieve himself, you studied the second man. “You don’t talk much.” I need to figure out who sent them and why. “Tanner said -”

 “Tanner knows what’s good for him, he won’t keep talkin’ to you, little lady.” The second man’s voice was low and slightly more threatening, even though his build was smaller. “We just gotta get you to the Boss and then you won’t -”

 “McCray?” You stepped forward, eyes widening. Maybe. Maybe I was wrong. “You gotta get me to McCray?” Silent for a few seconds, O’Conner stared at you and then laughed, the sound harsh in your ears. 

 “Ghost? Nah. We wouldn’t give you over to him, he’d try an’ keep you for himself. Boss has somethin’ different planned for you.” Different? What… “He said he could give us whatever we wanted ‘s long as we made sure he gotcha.” Tanner reappeared, and you watched as he glanced upward, looking at the sun. 

 “Time to go. We’re supposed to be back at the campsite before dark, and we’re barely gonna make it as it is.” He looked at you, one eyebrow raised beneath the brim of his hat. “If I leave your hand free so you can hold on better, you gonna give me trouble?” You weighed your options quickly, looking between the two men, and realized that you were indeed at their mercy. I need to figure out who these people are before I … 

 “I won’t.” You swallowed, throat dry. “You sure I can’t have some water, though? I’ve been sitting in the sun and -”

 “You’ll get water when we get to the campsite if he wants to give it to you.” Tanner pulled on the rope and you stumbled after him, swearing under your breath. “Just get back on the horse.” You did, hoisting yourself up and onto the saddle, hands going back around the knob in front of you. You felt him settle behind you again, knees digging in against your thighs as you started moving. “You have no idea what you’re in for, do you?” No, I don’t… I… “You’ll know soon enough.” 

 --- 

 The sun was starting to sink ahead of you by the time Tanner slowed the horse down, a series of low whistles leaving his lips. After a few seconds, an answering whistle carried to your ears, and Tanner signaled O’Conner forward, the horses moving faster. Someone’s there. You broke through a small strand of trees, catching sight of a single figure sitting with his back to you, a small fire in front of him. “Is that -” You closed your eyes swallowing hard. “I -” They can’t hurt you. They can’t hurt you, they’re Hosts, they can’t do anything worse to you then they already have, they… 

 “It is.” Tanner was leaning forward again, talking quietly into your ear. “And we got you here early, so he’s gonna be happy.” The horses stopped moving, and Tanner cleared his throat, unwinding the rope again and tossing it forward. You’d stopped again, Tanner retying your wrists together so that when you arrived to their boss, you had no possibility of getting free, so the length was shorter, but it still reached halfway to the seated man, the knotted end resting on the ground in short grass and a few sticks. In the silence between you, there was only the crackling of the fire and the soft whinnying of the horses, but then Tanner spoke after clearing his throat. “Got her here to you, Boss.” He leaned in again, speaking to you. “Don’t move.” You nodded once, still wanting to see where things were headed, and felt the man dismount from behind you, though he didn’t step away from the horse. 

 As O’Conner moved to the ground, too, you looked between the three men, the new one still seated and facing away from you, staring at the fire. Maybe I can run, maybe I can get a gun, it’s getting dark, and… But then the third man stood and slowly turned to face you, and your blood ran cold, all thoughts of escape disappearing. “W… William?” What is he doing here? “Y-you -” The man took three steps toward you, his eyes focused on your face before he bent down, picking up the end of the rope and closing his fingers around it above the knot. As he stood back up, you watched as he smiled at you from beneath the wide black brim of his hat. He kidnapped Logan and now he’s got me.

 “Surprise.” As he said the word, he yanked on the rope, and because you were caught off guard, you tumbled off of the horse, barely able to brace your fall with your forearms, and unable to keep your head and elbow from knocking against the ground. What the fuck? “You know,” William said as he pulled you across the ground by the rope, your bare arms scraping against the underbrush as you moved, head spinning and your feet dragging behind you. “This was the perfect opportunity, you coming here to catalog this new narrative, Logan having to stay behind…” He doesn’t know Logan’s here. You widened your eyes but didn’t say anything, staring up at William through watering eyes. Do not cry. “Bet I’m the last person you thought you’d see here, hmm?” William knelt next to you, finally removing his hat and setting it on the ground next to him, his hair hanging over his eyes. “Don’t worry, I’ll tell you all about why I’m here and why you’re here. We’ve got a lot to talk about.” He leaned in, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes, one hand reaching out to touch your cheek, but there was no warmth in it. “Tanner.” William looked up, fingers still on your face. “When you took her, who saw? Was she wearin’ her hat when you grabbed her?” 

 “Ah, Boss, she was on the street in Lost Spring, like you said she’d be, walkin’ back from breakfast.” Your eyes moved to Tanner, and you noticed that he looked a little worried, one of his hands rubbing at the back of his neck. “She was with a man, dark hair, all in black, real handsome. No hat.” You heard Willam swear, and though Tanner continued, the blonde man’s attention was back on you, his lips pressed together. 

 “So he is here, and he knows you got taken.” William cocked his head to the side, stroking down your cheek and to your neck with the pads of his fingers, nothing gentle about it. “Wonder how long it’ll take him to realize that you’re not where you’re supposed to be.” He probably already has, it’s been hours, he would have gone to the Sheriff, he… But why would he, you thought as you stared up at William. O’Conner said not to come til sundown, so if Logan waited, he won’t… and we’re not in the hills, he’ll never find me… “You’re figurin’ it out, aren’t you?” William grinned, his fingers closing around your shoulder. “I’m doing to him what he did to me, except …” William sucked air in between his teeth, shaking his head. “Except they can’t rebuild you.” What the fuck is he talking about? “Now.” He settled down onto both knees next to you, removing his hand from your skin and reaching into his pocket. “I figure, at the very least we have abut two days before he even comes close.” William pulled out a handkerchief and a small bottle. “And I think this first part will go much faster if you’re not awake, don’t you?” 

 “No, William, I -” You watched as he tilted the bottle over and onto the cloth, shaking your head back and forth. “Whatever that is, you don’t need to, it’s fine, I won’t…” But William only laughed, setting the bottle down and pulling the bandana around his neck up and over his nose, leaning in over you. 

 “I don’t believe you.” He shrugged, nose wrinkling. “And I’m not ready to hurt you… yet.” You screamed once before he covered your mouth and nose with the dampened cloth, closing your eyes and not even trying to hold back your tears as William pressed down. Logan, help me. Please. The last thing you saw before you lost consciousness was his face, his words echoing in your mind. I’ll find you. I promise. 

 --- 

 He followed the Sheriff down the street, his hands jammed into his pockets. That wasn’t the right kidnapping, that wasn’t … she… “We have to ride out after her, we have to…” Logan could barely get the words out. “She got taken, and -”

 “Son, I know she did, but we’ve got our own to worry about, and only two deputies plus myself. The McCray gang took Marilee, we’ve gotta go after her and…” They have to help her, they can’t just… 

 “No. You have to go after…” Logan groaned in frustration, hands moving to his hair. “You know where Marilee will be, but my… she got… you have to…” The man sighed, looking up at Logan from behind his table. 

 “You can see if any of the townsfolk will ride out with you and look for your woman, son, but -”

 “My name is Logan Delos!” Logan slammed his hand on the table, shaking his head back and forth in anger. “And I need you to help me, now because the woman I…” He swallowed, taking a breath. “I don’t know this area, I don’t know where to…” I don’t know where to look. 

 “Do you have any enemies? Does she?” The Sheriff leaned back in his chair, one hand stroking his beard. “Maybe it was a kidnapping, and there’ll be a ransom note. Someone might want something -”

 “We don’t know anyone here, we just got here yesterday, we…” Logan’s eyes widened, one hand going up to his face. “We barely left the room, and…” He shook his head. “There’s no one.” But there is one person. He took a breath. “Unless…” Logan snapped his fingers, tapping the tabletop. “I need a map, I need…” He shook his head. “I’ll be back.” Without another word, Logan turned and left the Sheriff’s station, nearly sprinting back to the saloon. What room? What… “Hey.” He stopped at the mail counter, the young woman behind it eyeing him intently. Not fucking now. “Yesterday, a… a woman and a man came here, rented rooms.” He paused, licking his lips nervously. “She had tattoos on her back and shoulders, and he would have been… blonde, probably about my height… I just need to know what room he was in, he’s my sister’s husband and…” The girl smiled, reaching beneath the counter and pulling out a logbook, one finger moving down the page. 

 Logan saw your name and then William’s, and he felt his heart beating faster. “He was in room four, but it looks like he checked out yesterday evenin’, says there’s a …” She turned away, reaching back into one of the mail slots. “Left a letter for a Logan?” He did? She held out a small envelope, the smile on her face returning. “You Logan?” Logan nodded, hand reaching out for the paper and sliding his finger beneath the back side and tearing it open. There was a single sheet of paper inside, folded around a small object, and as Logan shook it out into his hand, he felt himself freeze. “What’s it say?” The Host behind the counter leaned forward, but Logan couldn’t respond, his eyes locked on the paper and the circular disc in his other hand. Motherfucker. “Good luck?” She laughed. “Good luck with what?”

 “What is this?” Though he knew what it was, Logan held up the metal, finally speaking again. “What is it?” Biting her lip, the woman shook her head, green eyes moving up to Logan’s dark ones. 

 “I don’t know, Logan. Doesn’t look like anything to me.” 

--- 

 Fifteen minutes later, Logan had gone back to the room, grabbing his hat and yours before going to the general store and buying two canteens, filling them both with water, and stocking up on a second pistol and extra ammo. Won’t do any good on William, but the Hosts… He led his horse out of the stables and down the main street, eyes landing on people one after the other. I can’t ask them for help, this is personal, this is… “Hey!” He stopped, raising his voice and turning in a slow circle, hoping that someone that saw him was one of the people that had been present earlier. Please. “I was with a woman earlier, and she got taken.” He reached into his back pocket, pulling out his wallet. “I’ve got $100 for anyone that can tell me anything about those men or those horses, or -” He pulled the bills out, holding them in the air. “One hundred dollars cash to anyone that can help me get her back.” He stopped, waiting, and as Logan gulped in air, he closed his eyes. She’s gotta be ok, he won’t… 

 “Mister?” Eyes snapping open, Logan turned toward the sound of the voice, seeing that a young man had stepped off of the porch of one of the stores. “I don’t know who those men were, but the horses? They had a brand on ‘em.” His eyes went to the money and then back to Logan. “Didn’t see it up close, but it looked like… like the Abernathy brand.” Dolores? Fucking Dolores? “From Sweetwater? Those horses are some of the finest around, and they reported a couple missin’ a few months ago.” The man stepped closer again, voice stronger. “If it’s the same men, I heard that they robbed a couple places down near Las Mudas and the old plantation.” That helps. Logan let out a breath, lowering his head. “I can show you on a map if you want, I know you’re a newcomer, so…”

 “Thank you.” The two words spoken with a gratitude he didn’t know he was capable of, Logan stepped forward and toward the man, handing over the money. “You’re tellin’ the truth, right?” The man nodded. “Not just doing it for the m-”

 “Of course not.” The man shook his head, folding the bills and sticking them in his pocket. “I can use it, sure, but I wouldn’t lie about somethin’ like this when a woman’s been taken.” Oh, thank fuck. Logan reached into his pocket and pulled the map that the Sheriff had given him out, and for the next few minutes, he stood in the street, the man explaining where things were located, where likely hiding spots were. “There’s not much to the west, and unless you go far south first, all that’s north is mountains and cliffs, and they’re damn near impossible to get up.” So he went south. Logan’s eyes moved over the map, and though he knew it was unlikely, they traveled southeast to the unclaimed territories, to where William had set him off into the sunset. He wouldn’t do that again, he tried it once, and it didn’t work, he knows that’d be the first place I’d look. 

 “Thank you.” He met the young man’s eyes again, and Logan hoped that he could tell how grateful he was. “I didn’t even know where to start, and now I…” He nodded, pointing. “I’ll head down to Las Mudas, and then see what they have to say.” Maybe they’ll have names, then I can… Logan took a deep breath. 

 “You’ll find her.” The man smiled at him, nodding twice. “Go.” He mounted his horse, turning it around and riding out of town. He said it’s about a day’s ride to Las Mudas… I’m gonna make it in half that. 

 --- 

 You woke up when it was fully dark out, head pounding and throat dry. What the fuck? You were on the back of another horse, but this time, you weren’t sitting up on your own, you were strapped to the saddle, stomach pressed against it and your body bouncing with every step the animal took. Oh my god, I’m going to puke, I… Even as you had the thought, you felt your stomach seizing, and the next thing you knew you were getting sick, barely able to lift your head in order to make sure you didn’t cover your arms in vomit. At least my hair’s still tied back. Still coughing violently, you tried to look around, but couldn’t lift your head for too long because of the pounding. He fucking chloroformed me, how is that legal, how… There had been incidents in the park before, you knew, where guests like William had tried to harm other guests, and that was why Delos had implemented the Guest Tracking System, allowing people to alert security through the device if they ever felt that they were truly in danger. But your hat was back in your room, which meant that you didn’t have your device, and though William had his hat, you knew you’d never get to it to press down on the hidden button. Maybe… But you also knew that keeping you disoriented was part of William’s plan, and while it wouldn’t make you any less angry, it would make you more manageable. But why is he… because of Logan? 

 Your mind went back to the conversation you’d had the night Logan got his tattoo - when he’d told you what happened with William. You knew that Logan and William’s first trip to the park together had ended badly, and you knew that it was bad enough that Logan didn’t talk about it to anyone else, but you didn’t know why William would have taken you to prove a point. I didn’t do anything, Logan told me not to worry about it, he... From your position on the horse, it was difficult for you to tell what direction you were moving in, or even what time it was. I need water. I need food, I need… But you knew that William wouldn’t give you any of those things, and if he let you off of the horse at all, it would be a shock. “W-william.” Your throat scratchy, you gritted your teeth and tried again. “William.” After a few seconds, the horse you were on stopped moving, and you heard footsteps on the ground heading toward you. 

 “Yes?” He spoke from right next to you, voice low. “Welcome back, Sleeping Beauty.” Determined not to do anything to piss him off, you attempted to raise your head, trying to meet his eyes. 

 “I’m dizzy, William.” It came out as a whine, and you couldn’t help it. “I need to sit up, I can hold on, I -” I need to see where I am. “Please, William, where am I going to go?” You knew that you looked, smelled and sounded terrible, but you needed to get through to him. “Let me sit up, William, I -”

 “Fine. But if you try anything, I’ll -” He gripped your chin in one hand, fingers closing tight against it and forcing you to look up. “You won’t get a second chance.” You could hear that he meant it, and though you knew that the gun at his waist wouldn’t harm you, you were sure that he had another plan. You nodded weakly, and only a few seconds later, felt the binding on your arms getting looser. “If I pull you off of there, are you gonna be able to get back on?” 

 “I think so.” You swallowed, and then William pulled you forward, this time not letting you fall to the ground before you got your footing. “Thank you.” The words slipped out before you could stop them, but you were so happy to be standing on solid ground that you couldn’t help it, and William actually laughed from next to you, his grip on your elbow tight. That’s going to bruise. “Give me a second, please.” You lowered your head, staring at your feet and trying to take deep breaths to clear your mind. Get it together. You finally raised your head and looked around, surprised to see that only one of the men - Tanner - was still with you. Where’s O’Conner? Turning your head, you saw that the horse you were riding was the one that the second man had been on. What happened to him? 

 “Our friend O’Conner’s no longer with us.” William was whispering, mouth close to your ear. “Had to get you a horse somehow.” Your lip curled, but you didn’t respond. “Get on, we need to go.” It was difficult but you managed to get back onto your horse, and soon the three of you were back on track, making your way over the flatlands, the moon shining brightly above you. So we went south. We’re not near the hills anymore. The hours passed and finally, when you were so exhausted that you thought you’d fall off the horse, William allowed you to stop just as the sky was beginning to lighten, the three of you setting up camp beneath a few scrubby trees. Even as he tied you to the trunk, allowing only a little play in the rope so that you could halfway stretch out, you were thankful for the respite, for the chance to close your eyes. “Enjoy this sleep, because tomorrow, the fun starts.” 

 --- 

 You woke up to the buzzing of flies, and as you attempted to use your hands to wave them away, you were reminded of your predicament. I’m tied to a fucking tree. Eyes opening all the way, you struggled into an upright position, lifting your hands as much as you possibly could, drawing your knees up toward your chest. What the fuck am I going to do? You looked over the camp, seeing that William was nowhere to be found, Tanner leaning against his bedroll and staring up at the sky. “You can stop strugglin’ now, you aren’t goin anywhere. Boss tied those knots well, an’ he knows what he’s doing.” You swallowed, deciding that you were going to try speaking, even though you didn’t know how your voice would sound. 

 “How long have you known him? William, I mean?” Throat scratchy, you winced. “You said you’ve had the horses for a couple months, and…” 

 “They met me the night I helped ‘em rob the Abernathys.” William spoke from behind you and you closed your eyes. No. I needed more time, I… “I find myself out on that farm most trips to the park, you know.” William appeared in front of you, glancing over his shoulder. “Take a walk, Tanner. I need to talk to her for a while.” The Host stood, leaning down to pick up his canteen before he walked off. That doesn’t make sense, they aren’t supposed to be that obedient, it would ruin the game, they… “Anyway.” William settled down on the ground in front of you, legs crossed and canteen on his lap. “We’re gonna have a conversation, and if you give me the answers I want, I’ll give you something to drink.” It had been more than 24 hours since your last drink, and your tongue was still coated with the taste of your vomit - water sounded like the answer to everything. What do you want, asshole?

 “I don’t know what you want to hear, William, I -” You shook your head, closing your eyes. “Why are you doing this, what -”

 “The first time I came to this place, it was supposed to be a bonding trip between me and Logan. He was going to be my brother in law, and Jules… she wanted us to get to know each other better. I’d heard stories about the park, stories about... “ William shook his head. “L… he promised me that after the trip, I’d know who I was, and he said he wanted to meet that person, wanted to see what I was really like.” That doesn’t sound bad, it’s what he told me, too… “But he just wanted me to do what he wanted to do - fuck and drink and kill, and when I finally…” William laughed, looking into your eyes. “When I finally played the game how he wanted me to, the war and the plotting, and the … he didn’t like it much.” 

 “William, I don’t -” You coughed, trying to sit up straighter and also trying not to drag the burned skin of your shoulders against the tree bark. Play this off. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

 “But you do, because…” William leaned in, eyes cold. “He’s getting closer, he’s up to something, and he wouldn’t tell anyone else, only you.” What? “What has Logan fucking Delos told you about what happened here and what he’s doing now?” You shook your head, hearing his tone of voice - unlike you’d ever heard it previously. What is wrong with him? I don’t… “Tell me!” William moved forward, fingers closing around your shoulder and shoving you backward, slamming your back into the tree trunk. “Tell me what that piece of shit told you about me.”

 “He didn’t tell me anything, William!” You screamed the words without thinking, your arm throbbing where he was gripping it. “He just told me that it didn’t end well, and he ended up in the desert and they didn’t find him for days, but…” William’s grip loosened slightly, his hand sliding down toward your elbow. “He only said that the two of you didn’t really get along, and that the trip was…” You closed your eyes, trying to remember the word Logan had used. “Illuminating.” You opened your eyes again, not wanting to but forcing yourself to look at William. “He told me about the drugs and the sex and the alcohol after he came back, because no one believed him, how he didn’t want to feel anything, and how he almost offed himself multiple times, but he doesn’t talk about you, William. Not to me, not unless we’ll be seeing you and Juliet and Emily.” You gritted your teeth. “But now I’m…” Shit. Shut up. “He doesn’t talk to me about you, William, we’re together, but we don’t…” It was a lie, and both of you knew it. He was protecting me. He didn’t want me to be involved, that’s why he never… “I don’t know anything else, William, I don’t, I …” You lowered your head, fighting back the tears that were threatening. “I’m so thirsty, I…” What is Logan doing? What does William know?

 “Now you’re what?” His voice low, William leaned in, lips again close to your ear. “What have you figured out, hmm?” He laughed, fingers tightening again. “Tell me now.” Lie. You could almost hear Logan whispering into your ear. Lie to him. Make it convincing. “I’m waiting.” 

 “Now, William, I’m thinking that there’s a lot more to you than…” You swallowed, closing your eyes. “More to you than people know.” It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t what you were thinking, either. You sent him out into that desert. You tried to kill him. You… 

 “You know what?” He let go of your arm, sitting back and staring at you again. “You’re right about that.” He reached over, picking up the canteen that was sitting next to him and unscrewed the top. “And you’re going to find out just how right you are soon.” He leaned forward the canteen in one hand. “Open your mouth.” Eyes flying all the way open you pulled away from the tree and tilted your head back, doing as he asked. Thank God. You felt the cool metal touch your lips and then William tilted the canteen up. Gulping, you managed to swallow twice before you coughed, shaking your head violently back and forth. What… whiskey? What the … Coughing harder, you didn’t pay any mind to the fact that William was emptying the remainder of the canteen onto your face and chest, letting the whiskey soak your skin and clothing. “It’s his favorite, so I thought you’d want to have some.” You turned your head to spit, trying not to start screaming at him, because you knew it wouldn’t do any good. 

 “What are you going to do with me, William?” Finally catching your breath, you looked up at him, swallowing before you squeezed your eyes shut for a few seconds. “You’re not going to give me water, not going to…” You coughed again. “Not going to give me food, I’m sure. I didn’t have a blanket, so…” You smiled at him, wrinkling your nose. “You going to nearly kill me and then find me, William? Make yourself look like the hero, so if Logan ever says anything, he’ll look like an asshole?” William shifted onto one knee and paused, squinting at you before he answered. 

 “Nah. Logan’s going to be the one that finds you. But when? How? What condition you’re in?” The man laughed, head shaking back and forth. “That I haven’t decided yet.” He stood, one hand on his hip. “The thing about Westworld is that you can’t take anything out of here, not really. So no matter what, there’s no proof. And…” He pulled his hat off, turning it over so that you could see the inside of the brim. “These trackers are so handy, aren’t they?” William ran his fingers over a small tear on the inside of the hat, shaking his head. “That’s why I took mine out and left it at that saloon. I’m sure Logan’s found it by now, so he knows that I have you, and he knows he can’t just call into security and track me.” Dick. He paced in front of you, and you heard genuine giddiness in his voice, even though your head was spinning from the combination of the sun, lack of sleep, the fall you’d taken and the whiskey you’d swallowed. This isn’t good. “You don’t have a tracker on you, and when I picked those two idiots? I made sure he’d never had any contact with them before, so he won’t know who they are to… Hey.” He stepped back toward you, reaching down and grabbing the shoulder strap of your vest, yanking you toward him, the rope biting into your wrists. “Listen to me.” 

 “I’m listening, William.” You were, it wasn’t a lie, but you couldn’t muster up the enthusiasm you were sure he wanted. “I hear you, loud and -” Your words were stopped by the sting of the back of William’s hand as it made contact with your cheek, your head whipping to the side. Crying out, you struggled to raise your arms to protect your face, but the rope stopped you, the knots digging deeper into your wrists as you tugged, the tears finally falling freely. “What do you want from me, William? What?”

 “I want you to tell me the truth, you miserable little bitch.” William slapped you again, laughing as he stepped away from you. “You will. Maybe not right now, but … soon. You’ll tell me what you know, and then I’ll know exactly how to stop him. I’ll know what I need to make him quit.” William turned and walked away from you and you slumped back against the tree, shoulders shaking. He already wants you gone, William, and this is just going to make it worse. 

 --- 

 He’d ridden out of Lost Spring and down to Las Mudas as fast as his horse would allow him to, and when the animal had tired, Logan leaned down, whispering one of the fail safe commands into its ear, returning it to full strength. Convenient. The initiative had been implemented after Logan’s own trip to the edges of the park, and worked on all Hosts - animal and human alike. Some commands would just give them extra energy, others would alert the Mesa security team to an exact location. Though it wasn’t common knowledge and was still in the process of being beta tested - “We can’t ruin the illusion, Ford had said with a single shake of his head. “We give technicians the codes, that’s one thing, but Guests? No.” “Fuck you, Ford.” Logan gritted his teeth, eyes on the horizon in the gathering twilight. “She could have…” But Logan knew that you wouldn’t have used it until it was too late, still determined to do your job, and if William was involved, he wouldn’t allow you to use the words. I’m going to fucking kill you, William. 

 As the sun rose in the early hours of the next morning, Logan finally rode into town. He scanned the people milling around in the early morning twilight, trying to get a feel for the place with exhausted eyes. It wasn’t somewhere that he’d spent a great deal of time previously, so he didn’t know where to begin. The law, start there, this place has to have some sort of… “I need the Sheriff.” He stopped in front of the saloon, still on his horse. “I need to talk to him about the robberies, the men with the black horses.” Two of the women standing on the steps pointed in unison, and a few minutes later, Logan had dismounted and was sitting in a small room, his hands folded on the tabletop in front of him as he explained what he was looking for. 

 “Look, Mr. Delos.” The young Sheriff was shaking his head. “I’ll tell you what I know, but it’ll take me some time. Why don’t you let me get you somethin’ to eat, let us feed your horse, take a few hours to get some rest.”

 “No.” He shook his head. “No, I’ll accept the food and the information, but I can’t wait a few hours, she doesn’t have them.” He was sure of that, sure that any delay from him would put you in more danger. “The men that took her might just be thieves, but the one they’re taking her to?” Logan sighed. “He’s bad news.” Faster than expected, Logan had a hot meal in front of him, the lawman talking about the bandits that had been in the area. 

 “Never hurt anyone, but they’ve done some damage. Stole a bunch of silver, killed a few cows and some sheep, took the horses.” Sounds run of the mill for these parts, but it doesn’t make sense that they’d be with William. Why? “They’ve been in and out of the area between here and Pariah and Sweetwater, never stayin’ in one place. Pariah’s one thing; lawlessness there is how they operate, but here? Here we -”

 “Alright, but do you know who they are?” Logan chewed and swallowed, wondering if William was feeding you, what he was saying to you. “Names? Nicknames? Where they’re from? What they might want?” The man leaned back in his chair, thinking. 

 “Nah, they’re just like Hector Escaton’s posse, tryin’ to cause trouble when and where they can, but…” The Sheriff sighed. “Think one of em’s name is O’Conner, he fits the description of a man from down near Avalon, the other one we don’t know, and it’s why we ain’t caught ‘em yet.” Of course it is. He rubbed the heels of his hands over his eyes, thinking of the way you were likely feeling and hoped you still thought he was coming. I am, I’m just figuring it out. I swear… “My best guess? They takin’ her to meet someone, they prob’ly headed south from where you all were, and then they headed…” He squinted, lips pressed together. “Toward the canyons.” No he wouldn’t take her there, he wouldn’t repeat it, that’s not it. “Could also be headin’ toward the sea, that’s a shorter trip, but there are fewer places to hide on the way, unless they’re followin’ the river.” He leaned forward, pointing on the map. “If it was me, an’ I was tryin’ to get somewhere quick?” He tapped a finger on the map where the rivers converged between the lowlands and the old plantation fields. “I’d stick to the river, cuz it’s easier to follow it straight to the end. The edge of the park. I’ve seen it, but he hasn’t. He’d want to see … 

 “Thank you.” Logan shook his head, deciding what he was going to do. “I’ll follow the river west, see what that turns up, there’s people out near the plantation that might be able to…” Wait a minute. I don’t have to ...

 “Sure are. Lots of ‘em, but a lot of ‘em don’t speak English, so you’ll have to find someone that…” He laughed. “That can talk to you.” The man pushed back from the table, glancing at the watch he pulled from his pocket. “You look exhausted, are you sure that you -”

 “No. I have to go, I can’t wait.” Logan stood, reaching a hand out to the other man. “I appreciate your help more than you know, but I need two more things from you, and then I’ll be on my way.” The Sheriff nodded, gesturing at Logan with one hand. “I need a pair of handcuffs, and I need you to show me the yellow brick road.” Please work. He swallowed, waiting, but after only a few seconds, the man turned away from Logan, stepping further into the room and spinning the dial on the safe behind him on the wall. 

 “I’ll leave you now.” No more accent, no more … shit. He’d never seen the Hosts affectless, and the first time would have been much more interesting if your life hadn’t been on the line. Logan stepped past the Sheriff as the man placed a set of cuffs on the desk and reached into the safe, pulling out the bagged items from inside. They were standard issue first aid items - bandages, over the counter painkillers, alcohol wipes - and, Logan saw, relief flooding his body, an EPI pen along with a few vials of liquid that were marked “adrenaline” along with a jet injector. Perfect. He slung the small pouch over his shoulder and then reached in again, picking up the final item in the safe: one of the tablets the behavior analysts used. Alright, Delos. Find her. Logan returned to the table, sitting down, and after logging in, he was able to access the park map, and in turn, all of the Host and Guest locations, tiny moving dots on the illuminated screen. 

 He knew it wasn’t worth a damn, but he quickly typed your name in anyway, closing his eyes when your location came up less than fifteen yards from him. I wish. He typed in William’s name, too, but that one was literally on top of him, and Logan thought of the tracking device he’d stuffed into his pocket, lip curling into a snarl. Look up O’Conner. He did so, limiting the results to Hosts, and was surprised to see that there were two of them, one showing up as being in the Ranchlands to the east, and the other’s marker blinking slowly nearly due north of Las Mudas. Blinking? That means…. He clicked on the name, bringing up a picture and was presented with the image of the man that had held the gun on him. Got you...but you’re dead? He tapped again, bringing up playback of the final moments of the Host’s life, and didn’t see much; just a fire, the second kidnapper laying next to it, and a prone body on the ground. Wait, that’s a rope, that’s her, that… Zooming in, Logan saw that your head was turned to the side, eyes closed, hands still tied together and resting against your abdomen. What did he do to her? But Logan didn’t dwell on it , instead zooming in on the second Host’s face and tapping, bringing up information on him. Tanner. Alright. That Host’s location was not blinking, and Logan breathed a sigh of relief. He’s nearly a day away, I should have… fuck, why wasn’t there a stockpile in Lost Spring? He’d tried the same code words on the Sheriff there, but there’d been no response, and though Logan knew that he simply should have immediately asked upon arrival in Las Mudas, the truth was that he needed the rest and he needed the food. I need to sleep, I need… But she needs me more, she needs help. 

 Logan stared at the screen, finger hovering over the button that he could have used to call security in. They can be to her in fifteen minutes or less, they can save her, they can… But Logan knew William, and knew that the man had given up. There was no way out of it for him after taking you and leaving evidence behind - and though Logan didn’t know if he’d actually kill you at the merest glimpse of intervention, he didn’t want to risk it. Whatever he’s got planned, he wants me to be there, wants me to see, wants me to… Logan glanced down once more before turning the tablet off and slipping it into the bag with the medical supplies, pulling out the jet injector and one of the adrenaline vials. I’m going to crash, but at least I’ll… Swallowing, Logan twisted the vial into position, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes. 

 He hadn’t injected himself with anything in nearly two years, but you were worth it, and he pressed the trigger without another thought, the release point tight against the inside of his forearm. I’ll crash hard, but at least I’ll be closer to you when it happens. Logan took a deep breath and stood, already feeling more awake and alert as the injection took hold. “I’m coming.” 

--- 

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