#i hate studying my lab files it is like oh i can see my blood sweat and tears (shout out to bts)

[baepsays]

FINALLY

[five-rivers]

So first, I just want to say that I love Mortified, especially the arcs involving Ereshkigal and Innana. The whole thing is absolutely incredible, and I'm always thrilled to see an update. Second, I was rather hoping to offer you a prompt I've had swirling about my head. What if there is some sort of research facility exploring "that which is unknown and previously thought to be impossible" (i.e. magic but they don't call it that because people don't really know about magic and ghosts in this AU) and Danny's class is invited to go on a field trip there. At first, everything is normal, but just after the class leaves the researchers realize that their instruments show that some sort of Eldritch Horror is nearby and they start freaking out, but it's just Danny. I don't know where else this would go though.

Mr. Lancer chewed on the end of his pen.  It was a disgusting habit, he knew, but he could never quite get himself to kick it, especially when he had a problem to confront.  

Said problem was, presently, that enough of his students had expressed an interest in careers in ectology and paranormal science that he really had to give them a relevant field trip.  Unfortunately, there were very few reputable options for such a field trip.  The Fentons were unsafe, Axion Labs refused to give tours, the GIW were essentially a government sponsored hate group.  Most other ‘ghost hunting agencies’ were outright scams.  

But there had to be something nearby.  Or at least in the state.  Maybe not something that explicitly or solely dealt with ghosts, but something.  

Maybe...

Oh!

He shifted to sit straighter in his chair.  That would work.  He started typing an email.

.

“We got a what?” repeated Johannsson.  

“A field trip request,” repeated Deer.  

“Like... from a school?” asked Johannsson, cautiously.  

“A high school,” confirmed Deer, sounding rather stunned.  

“Do they... know what we do here?” 

“Evidently,” said Deer.  

“Like, they know we research magic and telepathy and stuff.”

“Yes.”

“And astral projection, higher-dimensional beings, alternate universes, that kind of thing?  Fringe science?”

“He says the junior class is interested in the ‘paranormal sciences.’”

“Wow,” said Johannsson, finally bringing his coffee up to his mouth and sipping at it cautiously.  “Where,” he started, “where are they from?”

“Um,” said Deer, peering at her computer screen.  “Casper High.  One sec.”  She started typing.  “It’s in Amity Park?  Do you think it’s a joke?”

“Ah,” said Johannsson.  “No, that tracks, actually, if it’s Amity Park.  We’ve got some weird readings on file from there, if you look it up.”

“It’s close,” said Deer.  “If we get readings, why don’t we have a presence there?”

“Another agency called dibs first,” said Johannsson.  “We have enough trouble.  No need to step on toes.”

Deer looked up at Johannsson incredulously.  “We fight eldritch abominations from the edge of reality,” she said.  “Is the boss really worried about stepping on toes?”

“Hey, that’s how we get funding,” said Johannsson, shrugging.  “We don’t want to end up like MKUltra.”

“MKUltra was a scam, Steve.  And also mostly illegal.”

“Yeah?”

Deer shrugged.  “Anyway, should I send this on, or...?”

“Yeah, go ahead.  The boss will probably get a kick out of it, if nothing else.”

.

“I would not have told the boss about this if I knew I’d be the one babysitting a bunch of teenagers,” said Deer through a clenched smile.  She jerked on the hem of her blouse, not used to the more formal clothes she was wearing on this momentous occasion.   

“Yeah,” said Johannsson, “but it isn’t like we get a lot of people coming into this profession for this profession.  And they’re kids.  So be nice.”

“I’m always nice,” grumbled Deer.  

“Well, look like it,” said Johannsson, elbowing her.  He caught sight of the yellow school bus.  “Here they come now.”

They waited until most of the students had gotten off the bus to approach.  

“Hi,” said Johannsson, “you must be Mr. Lancer.”

“That’s me,” said the rather frazzled-looking teacher.  “Come on kids, let’s get settled down.  Listen to our guides.  Let them introduce themselves.”

“Yeah, hey,” said Johannsson, waving.  “Welcome to the Edge Institute, where we study that which is unknown and often thought to be impossible.”

“Hi,” said Deer, frowning at one group of students in particular.  Johannsson followed her eyes.  

The trio in question didn’t seem particularly out of the ordinary.  Except...  Well, there was a reason Deer worked here.  

“I’m Steve Johannsson,” he said, getting back on track.  “This is Sylvia Deer.  We mostly work in report processing and assessment, but that brings us into contact with all our other departments, so we’re more than suited to show you around.”

Sylvia put her thumbs up.  “Yep,” she said.  

“Most of what we work with isn’t terribly dangerous, however, there are exceptions to that rule, and we have some classified projects, so don’t wander off.  Stay within view of us at all times.”

“What if we need to use the bathroom?” asked a student.

“Well, that’s different,” admitted Johannsson.  “We’ve got a couple scheduled stops, so make sure you go at those times.  Other than that, don’t go through any doors we don’t open for you and don’t touch anything without asking first.  Got it?”

There was a soft murmur of assent.  

“Come on, kids,” said Mr. Lancer, clapping, “he asked a question.”

The murmur became slightly more unanimous.  

“Right,” said Deer.  She jerked her head towards the building.  “Let’s go.”

“Anyway,” said Johannsson, “this is reception, which is the only part of the building freely open to the general public.  If you do need to go to the bathroom, they’re right there.  We’re going to hang out here for a few minutes, get everyone taken care of.”

Most of the students made their way to the restrooms immediately, however, that one trio stayed put.  

“Hey,” said the smallest of the group, “do you guys hear that?”

“Hear what?” asked Johannsson.

“Um,” said the boy, slightly rocking forward on the balls of his feet, “there’s, like, an alarm or a siren going off?  It’s really faint, but is everything okay?”

“We’d get a text,” said Deer.  “Not to mention an announcement on the PA system.”

“And the radios,” said Johannsson, tapping his.  

“Right,” said Deer, nodding.  “Maybe you have tinnitus or something?”

“Isn’t that recurrent, though?” asked Johannsson.  “He’d know if he had it.”

“I do not have tinnitus,” said the boy, firmly.  “I really think there’s an alarm going off.  Or maybe someone has a mosquito ringtone.  Gosh, I hate those...”

Johannsson glanced at Deer and noted that she, once again, was staring at the children rather intensely.  Mostly at the boy, but that made sense since he was the one speaking.  

“Danny has good hearing,” said the girl, who was decked out in an array of gothic and mystic symbols.  One which, on closer inspection, would probably be fairly effective at passive protection.  

Johannsson wondered if that was the result of research, intuition, or sheer luck.  

Perhaps that was why Deer was looking at them like that?

“Maybe I’m just imagining it,” said Danny, shaking his head.  “Let’s go to the bathrooms.  There’s probably a line by now.”

Once the kids were gone, and Johannsson and Deer were more or less alone in the entry hall, Johannsson turned to Deer.  “Think we should call Detection?”

“Yeah,” said Deer, pulling out her phone.  “There’s something not right, here.”

“Maybe he’s a sensitive?” suggested Johannsson.  “He could be picking up a project.”

“Or maybe he’s like you and he’ll break every piece of tech invented in the last twenty-five years as soon as he touches it.  Or he was cursed by a goddess, like Vicky in Containment.  Or maybe he just has tinnitus and is in denial.  I still don’t like this.”  She finished dialing Detection and brought the phone to her ear.  “Hey, I-”  She pulled the phone away, glared at it and cautiously brought it back.  “What’s going on?  An incursion?  Then why aren’t we on lockdown?”

Johannsson’s blood ran cold.  “An incursion?  How big?”

Deer held up a hand.  “That doesn’t-  You know we can’t detect everything!  It doesn’t matter if nothing else gets triggered, the protocol is lockdown until we can determine- If you had done your job, the kids would still be on the damn bus!”

At this point, Deer’s shouts had drawn the attention and worry of Mr. Lancer and several of the students who had emerged from the bathrooms.  

“Is everything alright?” asked the man.  

Johannsson glanced at Deer.  “No,” he decided, just before the security shutters slammed down and the emergency lighting came on.  “I’m really sorry,” he said, “but it seems like some of our colleagues were overly excited about your tour and didn’t, er, follow proper procedure following a, uh, event.  So-”

The PA system stuttered into life.  “Attention.  A level seven entity has been detected.  All nonessential personnel, please proceed to the nearest shelter.  Repeat-”

“Seven?” echoed Johannsson, starting to sweat.  “Seven?”

“It’s probably a false alarm,” said Deer, putting away her phone and smiling in the way only people who feel very ill do.  “None of the other incursion detectors went off.  No radiation associated with dimensional breaks or anything.  We should still get everyone to a shelter.  Maybe you can round up everyone from the bathrooms?”

“Right,” said Mr. Lancer, who was enviably calm.  

“Is an entity like a ghost or something?” asked one of the kids, who clearly weren’t grasping the gravity of the situation.  “How strong is a seven?”

Level seven entities couldn’t be described in terms of strength alone.  They were eldritch, uncaring gods that tore at the fabric of reality with their very presence, creatures that had no business being on the material plane.  They shed bright magic and dark science in their wake, leaving those unfortunate enough to see them grappling with madness that was not.  

He really wanted to know what was happening in Amity Park (ghosts?) that made these people so blasé about the alarms, flashing lights, and security shutters.  

Wait a second.  

He unclipped his radio from his belt.  “This is Johannsson, calling detection.  Can you describe the signal to me?  Over.”

The radio crackled.  “Slowly rising over the last thirty minutes, peaking and plateauing in the last ten.  Why?  Do you have something?  Over.”

The bus had arrived ten minutes ago.  Johannsson closed his eyes.  “Maybe.  Will inform.  Over and out.”

He looked over at the bathroom where Danny and his two friends were emerging.  Danny had his hands pressed over his ears.  Whenever the overhead lights flashed off, the boys eyes reflected green.  Just for a second.  

Yeah.  Johannsson had something.  The question was, what was he going to do about it?

[ladyloptr]

•Part-Time•

Request: twt@LUSTFORLOKI. To sum up this one, Reader is a college student who took a part-time job in the Avengers tower as a sort of housekeeper/maid/butler. Steve, for all of his self-righteousness, doesn’t know how to treat a housekeeper/maid properly in the 21st century. Thankfully, Loki shows up, and as usual, has a plan for everything. (I’m such a Steve-anti. Poor Steve.)Lots of angst, some fluff.

Fandom: MCU AU

Pairing: Loki x College!Reader.

Warnings: Angst, Abuse, Violence. OOC Steve, Major Steve bashing, so any Steve-stans, please look away.

{————}

You need this job.

That’s the only reason why you’re here, and why you tolerate some of the insanity that you’re forced to endure.

You saw the advertisement on the internet, it was hard to miss. Big, bright and attention grabbing, just like your employer, Tony Stark. He was looking for a butler basically, but also sort of a housekeeper. Someone to help keep the tower in order, but also to help the Avengers if they ever needed anything.

Surprisingly, for all of his melodrama, egotism and childishness, Tony Stark is a great boss, and his wife, Pepper, is an even better boss. They’re both always pleasant to you, they pay you well, they pay you on time, they’re never rude (despite Tony’s jokes sometimes being a little-uncalled for), and they never really ask much from you.

Sure, your job is to help keep the 90-something tower “in order”, but you, interestingly enough, don’t do much cleaning. As Tony once said “I have people I pay to do all of that.” Your job is mostly centered on making sure that Tony’s physical files are organized, that the training room has all of the practice weapons properly locked up, and to make sure that the kitchen and main lounge/living room isn’t a hot-mess-express.

So, the only thing you really ever have to clean up is the kitchen, and on occasion, the living room. The Avengers don’t typically leave behind much of a mess.

Really, the insanity isn’t Tony, or Pepper, or cleaning, or the pay, it’s helping the Avengers when they “need something”.

Oh-correction. The insanity is helping Steve Rogers when he “needs something”.

The Avengers are all grown ass adult superheroes (minus Peter), and you’re a college student taking a part-time job so that you can take care of yourself. Most of them find it uncomfortable to ask you to do meager things for them, so they mostly ignore you, and do things for themselves like functional members of society.

Except for Steve Rogers.

You are unsure of what you did, but the moment you started working here, he’s been nothing but cold and mean to you. He asks you to bring him a drink, to bring him a snack, to bring him a napkin, to bring him his breakfast, lunch and dinner. It’s gotten ridiculous. He’ll even ask you to make sure his bedroom is neat after he wakes up, and to make sure his bathroom is cleaned every few days.

This is behavior you expected from the Asgardian princes, Thor and Loki, but definitely not from Captain fucking America.

Then again, as Captain America, perhaps his behavior rightfully represents what a lot of Americans are; entitled.

(I’m American also, lol, no hate plz.)

He’s nothing like what he was supposed to be. On camera he was gentlemanly, kindhearted and appreciative. It was a shock to you when you found that Loki, of all the people in the tower, acts more like Captain America, than Captain America.

Which was truly bewildering to you at first. Just think about it for a moment...

The guy who tried to take over the whole world and enslave mankind is the one who greets you with a smile everyday, and offers to make you tea on Saturday and Sunday mornings (which are the only mornings you can work-you got those 7am college classes, RIP). He even helps you with your studies, homework and college essays if you find yourself falling behind. It took some time to get used to his kind gestures, which sometimes bewildered even Thor at times.

While Loki got familiar with you, your relationship with Steve Rogers, on the other hand, ended up only getting worse.

It turned abusive, sometimes violent, and the only reason you never went to Tony is because you know that the two are close friends and coworkers. You could go to the other Avengers, but you’re sure that their relationship to Steve is similar, as well.

Bucky Barnes is another person you know is close with Steve. Those two go way back-before you were even born.

One day, you were careless in leaving your house. It was a Saturday morning, you were tired and you hadn’t noticed that both of your arms had begun to bruise from Steve’s super soldier strength.

He had hit you a few times in anger yesterday. You can’t really recall why.

“What are those on your arms?” Loki asks, within seconds of seeing you. “What’s happened?”

“Nothing.” You say.

“I’m The God of Lies, my dear, you’ll have to do better than that.” Loki says, looking over your arms, carefully. “Is someone harming you?”

“No. I fell.”

“Try again.” Loki challenges, looking up at you sternly.

“I’m fine.”

“Who is harming you?” He asks, narrowing his eyes. “Is it someone in here?”

“Loki...”

“Is it an Avenger?”

Loki catches the subtle change in your eyes, the spark of fear that lit up when he asked whether or not it was an Avenger.

He growls. “Who is it?”

“Loki, please, I don’t want to talk about it.” You plead, getting rather uncomfortable now. “Can we just... play chess or something?”

Loki frowns at you for a while, before sighing in defeat. “Fine, alright.”

He doesn’t bring it up for the rest of the day.

You make sure to wear long sleeves to cover the bruises on your arms for the next couple of days, at least until the bruising goes down.

“What did I tell you about leaving my bedroom a mess?” Steve demands. “It’s a simple request. I’m not asking you to teach a dog to sing.”

Steve has decided to now confront you in an empty hallway about not tidying up his room yesterday.

“I’m sorry...” You mutter. “...Tony wanted me with him all day yesterday.”

“You couldn’t have come do it before you left? You just went home knowing my bedroom is a mess?” Steve asks, quickly getting upset.

“Tony clocked me out himself, so I was already off shift. Besides, it’s not like you can’t clean your bedroom yourself.” You answer.

Wrong answer, apparently.

He grabbed your arm and held it in a bruising grip, once again reminding you that he’s no ordinary human.

You let out a whimper and try to pull away, which proves no use. You’re not surprised when he slaps you. You’re surprised by how a super soldier serum can make a simple slap so painful. You’re even more surprised when your nose starts bleeding.

He must’ve inadvertently popped a blood vessel or something.

He raises his hand again, and you close your eyes, prepared for a punch or something worse, but it never comes. You open your eyes and see Steve looking at something behind you. You turn around and see Loki standing at the other end of the hall, his hands behind his back, an indifferent look on his face, but his eyes tell a different story.

You’ve known Loki long enough to realize that if you want to know his true emotions, you read his eyes, not his face. He’s a master at using his face to guard his true feelings.

And his eyes currently hold a barely contained storm of rage inside of them.

“I apologize for... interrupting...” Loki barely managed to keep his voice steady. “But dinner is ready, and I was wondering if (Y/N) would be joining us tonight.”

You nod, frantically. Steve releases your arm, and you rush over to Loki’s side.

“Loki Laufeyson, master of perfect timing, always ready to save the day.”

“Actually.” Loki corrects. “It’s Loki Odinson, master of sorcery, always ready to put ignorant Midgardians in their place.” He smiles a very unpleasant smile. “But yes... I suppose you’re also somewhat correct.”

“No one will believe you.” Steve says.

“Perhaps you’re correct.” Loki drones. “I am not here to hold a conversation with you, however, I am here to take (Y/N) to dinner.”

Steve snorts derisively, and walks by Loki, intentionally bumping shoulders with him.

Well, Steve was bumped, Loki didn’t move even a centimeter.

“Might want to clean her up first.” Steve says, as he retreats. “Wouldn’t want everyone to think you were beating up on her before dinner.”

Loki clenches his jaw. You look away, nervous about what he’s going to say.

You’re startled when he tilts your face up by your chin, and then slowly uses his seidr to heal any damage Steve has dealt you, including the bruises on your arms. He checks you over multiple times, making sure you aren’t still hurt.

Once he’s finished, he takes both of your hands and makes eye contact with you. He’s still upset, but the anger has tapered down to a manageable level.

“How did you know he was hurting me just now?” You ask, in a hushed tone.

“The same day I inquired about your bruises, I forged a... connection of sorts.” Loki explains. “Today, I felt that you were in danger, so I went looking for you. I have a similar connection with Thor, otherwise that oaf would’ve perished long ago.”

You nod, it makes sense, somewhat. You blush as he kisses your cheek and then your forehead.

“I am sorry.” Loki squeezes your hands, gently. “I wish I had noticed earlier. I would’ve killed him in that moment, would it not result in me being casted back to Asgard. The last thing I want, is for you to be left here to deal with all of this on your own.”

“Well... there’s nothing we can do about it now...” You murmur.

“I believe that to be untrue...” Loki’s eyes slowly shift up to the security cameras. “...Rogers appears to have forgotten about the many eyes this tower has.”

Your eyes widen. “The security cameras...!”

Loki smirks. “Stark will review the footage if you ask him to. I could accompany you to his lab tonight after dinner, if you so wish.”

“Yes, I’d love that.” You wrap your arms around Loki as tight as you possibly can. “Thank you!”

“You’re most certainly welcome.” Loki chuckles. “Time to cook up a scandal...”

A/N: SORRY STEVE STANS, I TAKE ALL REQUESTS, NO REQUESTS LEFT BEHIND.

Also, I wrote this while struggling with depression (it’s been two weeks, and it seems to not be improving, and this crap can last as long as a couple of months, so I wrote it anyway. Better than waiting a few months to finally get on this), and I’m not sure if y’all have noticed, but my storytelling feels weird in this one. My ability to produce a thorough, flowing storyline appears to be sort of hindered right now. I’ll try to update it if I can.

[rosy-wooyoung]

Husband series [6/8] | San

Word count: 6.1k (😳) Pairing: ex-husband! Jongho x single mom! reader x CEO! San Genre: fluff A/N: I love Jongho sm, i really hated writing him like that :( but CEO San,,, yes.

You had lived a good part of your life with Jongho. You met in high school, and you hated each other at first. However, since you had to work in partners in your chemistry lab, you learnt to appreciate each other and became friends. You were inseparable, making everyone believe that you were dating, due to your ways of behaving. The last year of high school was a particularly tough one for you, you were extremely sick and exhausted but kept on going to classes, Jongho being your daily motivation to get out of bed. If it weren’t to get your diploma at the end of the school year, you would’ve stayed in bed, trying to recover from your exhaustion of studying and living so far from your school. 

When you finally made it through, you had only two months of holidays to catch up with three years of poor sleeping and eating habits, when you would have needed years to get back into a healthy way of living. You were still very tired when you started university, but Jongho was here again to force you out of your comfort zone and tag along in lectures that you signed up for. At first, university looked and sounded remarkably interesting, but you didn’t last long. Even when Jongho was giving his best to make you feel happy and loved, your mind was still stronger. You had realised that the university universe and everything coming alone made you hate it. You felt like a failure because all your friends and classmates seemed to be able to make it through, whereas you dropped out after a semester there. Oh boy, you felt so alone and dumb for leaving university when you saw everyone around you was smart enough to pass their first year. Of course, you didn’t drop out because you were numb, - even if that’s what your brain was telling you -, it was just that university wasn’t your future. And there was nothing wrong with changing paths. You didn’t need to go to university to be successful in life, no. You just needed to find something that motivated you to get out of bed every single morning, and that was the toughest part for you.

Jongho was an incredibly supportive friend. He was always there to comfort you or reassure you when you felt at your lowest when you felt worthless and ugly. He took from his spare time to help you get ready for interviews, correct your applications, or just have a quick look over them. When you finally got a job, you looked and felt better. You were smiling more, enjoying life like you needed to, and came to realise something as well.

You were in love with your best friend.

And one night, where you were feeling bold at a party one of your college friends had organised, you got even closer to your best friend as if it were possible. You kissed that night, and you’ve never felt so good. 

“Gosh,” Jongho smiled after pulling away from the kiss, “it finally happened,” he mumbled, and you giggled, looking down to avoid his gaze. “I love you,” you declared, and your best friend almost lost his balance, leaning against the wall behind him, dragging you closer to him. “I think I love you more,” he murmured against your lips before capturing them in a rougher kiss.

And that night changed everything. Jongho made you see life at another angle, brighter and more positive. You felt loved, enough, and smart. He had a way to say things and take actions that made your head spin, still not used of the amount of attention you were getting.  After two, three, four years of dating, Jongho finally proposed and you got married a year later, on your fifth dating anniversary. Your fiancé wanted to make it memorable, so you got married at the beach, exchanging vows as the sun was setting in front of you. You still had butterflies in your stomach when you talked about this special day on the couch with your husband, late at night, not wanting to get up from the couch to go to bed.

However, everything went downhill when Jongho graduated from university and started working. You saw him less and less, meeting only late at night or extremely early in the morning as one came back or left to go to work. Your relationship was barely there, too tired to even get into actions or just make out. But hope started to show up. Jongho had been promoted to another part of his company, allowing him to rest sometimes and be there with you during the evenings. You knew that couples weren’t always on the bright side, there were ups and downs in every relationship, and it looked like you just got out of one down moment. But it was just a sunny spell among black clouds. 

One day, on your way to work, you felt a sharp pain in your lower belly, thinking that you were starting your period. You quickly walked to work and rushed to the bathroom, only to find your panties clean. No blood. You started thinking that maybe you ate something expired, but you remembered cooking things that only came from the store, so you were confused. You took medicine to soothe the pain, and it did. Only to come back twice harder a few hours later, in the middle of a meeting.  You were explaining a graphic on the screen to your colleagues as you began to feel dizzy. You cleared your throat and tried to keep your composure, only to have your boss asking you if you were alright. You didn’t even have time to answer that you blacked out and fell on the floor, your co-workers hurriedly rushing to take care of you.

You woke up a few hours later in a hospital room, a worried Jongho looking out the window. You mumbled his name, and he turned around, a serious look on his face.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were pregnant?” you looked at him, still a bit dizzy and confused as you had just woken up. When you processed his words, you were about to answer him when a doctor burst into the room with a file under his arm. “Miss—” “Ma’am,” your husband interrupted, correcting the doctor with a frown. “Amazing, you’re awake. I have great news!” He looked quite delighted, whereas your husband kept a marble face. It calmed the doctor immediately and cleared his throat, opening the file and readjusting his glasses. “You are pregnant with a little girl, and she perfectly healthy. However, you had an iron and water deficit, that’s why you collapsed at work this morning. You need to drink and eat more, not only for the baby but also for you.”

You were pregnant. You didn’t know if you wanted to burst out in joy or in tears. Should you keep it? Could you even abort, or was it too late?

“For how long I have been pregnant?” the doctor looked at you sceptically and looked at your husband, whose jaws were clenched.   “You… you didn’t know that you were expecting a child?” you slowly shook your head and he stood speechless, his gaze falling on the documents. “Oh for quite a while,” he said as he flipped the pages of the file, finally landing on the blood test results, “for a little over than 12 weeks.” He stated, and Jongho took his head in his hands.

“Haven’t you realised that you were pregnant? No sign of any symptoms?” “No,” you muttered as your gaze never left your husband, “I noticed that I gained a bit of weight, but it wasn’t truly alarming.” “And your menstruations?” “I’ve had irregular periods my entire life, I didn’t think that I’d get pregnant since we always use protection.” You sighed at the same time as Jongho, and the doctor briefly looked at him. “Alright, I’ll let you talk together for a while, but you can go out of the hospital when you'll be able to pee,” he said, and you nodded, thanking him as he left your room.

You could see that Jongho was stressed and mad. You never thought that he’d react like that, he was always happy to take care of children. You remembered the last time you saw his sister, he was the proudest uncle you’ve ever seen, taking care of his nephew, allowing his sister to rest and talk with her parents for a while. Children were safe with your husband, yet you weren’t so sure about yours now. Why did he have to react that way?

“Y/N, do you want this child or not?” he said as he leant on the wall, near the window. He opened it, and you shivered, bringing the thin sheet closer to your chest. “It’s too late to abort anyway,” you said, without looking at him. “That wasn’t even my question,” he spoke, and you looked at him. “Why are you reacting like that? Didn’t you want to have children together?” “It’s too early Y/N, too early,” he said as he dragged a hand over his face. You shrugged, deep down feeling ready to become a mother. Jongho, on the other hand, wasn’t ready at all. “But when you played with your nephew, you looked—” “Y/N! It’s not my child, I only took care of him for a few hours! It’s not the same!” Jongho let out his frustration and started raising his voice, barely recognising him. “Calm down, honey, please,” “How do you want me to calm down? You’re pregnant with my child, and you expect me to react well?” “Well, yes! We’ve been together for so long, you should be ready, right?” “Then no, I’m not. I need to think about it,” he said and stormed out of the room, leaving you alone in your bed. You sighed, beaten, and pushed the covers, walking to the toilet with some difficulties. You had to press the emergency button because you struggled to get up from the toilet seat, a nurse rushing in to help you. You were still quite weak, and Jongho wasn’t there to help you out.

He didn’t show up at your shared house during the next week, worrying you that something bad happened to him. A few days later after your hospital exit, you received a message from your sister-in-law, telling you that her brother was safe and hiding at home, hoping that you were alright. You were struggling alone, to the point where you had to call your good friend Hongjoong to the rescue.

“Where’s Jongho?” was the first thing your friend asked, and you shrugged. “Hiding at his sister’s house,” you said as you grabbed light groceries from your car trunk, only to have Hongjoong snatching them from your grip with a playfully stern look. “Don’t carry anything, it’s bad for the baby,” you shook your head and laughed, unlocking the front door of your house. “I’m not that far into the pregnancy,” you argued, but your friend was having none of it. “Still, you need to be careful,” he returned as he placed everything on the counter, opening the fridge as you changed the topic.

“Your wife is okay about you helping me out?” “She’s the one that pushed me out of the door when I told you that I was coming here,” you smirked at his words and poured yourself a glass of water. “She’s so excited to be an aunt, she’s trying to get me into action too,” you laughed, trying not to spill your drink as Hongjoong closed the refrigerator door with a smile. “Really?” “Yeah, she’s been acting up for quite a while.” “By the way, I was thinking about asking the two of you to be the godmother and godfather for her, what do you think?” “Are you joking? It’d be amazing!” “I just need to speak with Jongho about it, but I don’t think he’ll be against it,” he nodded and softly hugged you, careful to not squish you in his arms. Hongjoong and his wife got married a few months before your wedding, and they were still going very strong, admiring them for loving each other so unconditionally. “He’ll eventually come back to you, I promise,” he said as he softly rubbed your back as you walked him to the door, shrugging at his words. “I hope so,” you said and grabbed your car keys, swiftly putting on a pair of slippers to drive him home.

You had to wait a few more weeks to finally see Jongho showing up at the door. Internally, you were relieved that he was back, but you were also quite mad at him. He reacted quite badly, it wasn’t something usual from Jongho. He was timid every time that you were around as if he was finding a way to apologise. You eventually forgave him, and he was more comfortable walking around the house, helping you out with everything and taking care of you.

You welcomed your daughter Areum a few months later, Hongjoong and his wife paying you a visit as soon as they heard the good news. His wife was head over heels for your sleeping little girl, softly caressing her cheeks with the tip of her finger. Hongjoong smiled but rolled his eyes at her behaviour, earning a soft giggle from you and your husband. You were still quite tired from giving birth, so you fell asleep as your two friends were talking with your husband. Months following her birth were hectic, but you would do it all over again if you had to. Of course, you were exhausted, lacking sleep and energy, but at least your daughter was happy and healthy. Jongho helped you a lot, getting up instead of you when he could, changing diapers and sheets when it was necessary. 

However, you and Jongho started to not get along as well as before. You had different manners and ways to take care of your daughter, which sometimes erupted into arguments and screams through the house. 

“Shouldn’t you—” “What?” you annoyingly yelled another time, voice almost breaking, “what should I do, huh? Tell me about it? Tell me what to do, as if you were the mother. How dare you to give me advice when I almost needed to beg you to come home? You left me alone for over two months, just because you “weren’t ready”. What the hell is that shitty excuse? You left like a coward, and now you think that you can give me advice?” “Don’t get on your high horse, Y/N, it’s just that my sister—” “Your sister, always your sister! If she’s so fantastic about everything then leave and go live with her! I’m tired of constantly hearing about her, you talk about her all the goddamn time! You’re always talking about her, damn it if you want to raise a child her way go impregnate another bitch and leave me alone!” you spat as you took your crying daughter in your arms, eyes welling up with tears. “We’re either in this together, or I do it alone, it’s you and me, not you, your sister and me. I’m your wife, it’s our child, and WE get to decide how we bring Areum up. Not her.” You shushed your daughter in your arms as you made your way to your bedroom, blocking the door right after closing it.

One night, a pretty useless fight broke between you two, almost coming to blows. You really had to protect yourself from exploding, but it was the last straw. Out of pure anger, you looked at Jongho dead in the eyes and threw your wedding ring on the floor, hearing it break on the floor and slide under the counter.

“If you’re not willing to change,” you said, pointing your forefinger towards your husband, trying to keep your composure but miserably failing, “then I’m leaving.” You ended your sentence through gritted teeth, and the last thing that you see is the widening look Jongho was giving you. You grabbed your daughter from her highchair, cleaning her hands and bib before scooping her in your arms. She looked at you with pearly eyes, and you kissed her forehead while whispering reassuring words to her, wiping her tears with the back of your hand.

Jongho grabbed your shoulder with a bit more strength than usual, forcing you to turn around. He was clutching your ring in his other hand, his gaze fixed on you.

“Y/N, we’ll make this work,” “Do you realise how many times you’ve told me this? Mmh? Do you remember how many times we tried, and it still doesn’t work? Have you realised that?” "I do, but—” “No Jongho, I’m done, you’re making everything worse now,” you swatted his hand away from your shoulder and entered your bedroom, locking it behind you. You placed your daughter on the bed and draped her in the covers before sliding down on the floor, back resting against the mattress, and you cried. You don’t know how many hours you spent sat next to your daughter, but you woke up the next morning with your head near your daughter’s feet on the bed, along with a painful backache. She was staring at you, trying her hardest to pat your head from her spot. You softly grabbed her hand and laid a soft kiss on it, placing it on your cheek.

A few months after this last fight, everything was ended with your husband, and you’ve never felt so relieved. Your now ex-husband kept the house as you decided to be the one to move out. You looked at Jongho one last time before entering your car, driving off without looking back. Managing to find a place closer to your favourite couple’s house, who helped you move in and take care of your daughter, you were starting to get even happier. They loved looking after Areum because they could practice for their future potential child. Once you arrived unannounced at their house and noticed Hongjoong’s wife in the garden. She made big gestures to not ring the bell because her husband was taking a nap with your daughter on the couch.

Areum was treated like a princess when she was over their house, they took very good care of her, and it warmed your heart. It was relieving to know that your daughter was safe with your friends, they took their role of godmother and godfather seriously.  When you entered the living room, Hongjoong was laying on the sofa with your daughter on his chest. You sat down next to your friend and took your daughter in your arms, laying a soft kiss on her cheek as she was still sleeping. You placed her head on your shoulder, and Hongjoong’s wife replaced your daughter in her husband’s arms, only to have Hongjoong waking up. You waved goodbye at them after putting her in her baby seat, walked to your car and drove home.

After a few weeks, you managed to take your mark around the neighbourhood and succeeded in finding a job. You’ve heard about this company before when you were still with Jongho. You remembered how great he spoke about it, how hard it was to get in, and you made it just by applying as a secretary.  Your work was quite dense, but you’ve gone through worse in the past. Of course, you had bad days, but it was normal. Even your boss, Choi San, could have the worst days ever.

This man was young, yet one of the most powerful men in the city. He owned three big companies around the neighbourhood, making his wealth expand more quickly than his opponents. And you happened to be his secretary, managing his appointments, meetings and maintaining files. You were also sending emails, answering phone calls, or arranging travelling arrangements, and your boss found you extremely skilled. He was never disappointed in what you did, always here to make his life better and easier. One night, you quickly phoned Hongjoong, asking him if it was okay for them if you came to pick your daughter up a bit later in the evening.

“I have an unexpected meeting to attend, and I can’t miss it,” you said, and you heard your friend chuckle.  “It’s okay Y/N, come over when you're free,” you sighed in relief and thanked your friend before hanging up, rushing back to work. The meeting was in a few minutes, and you still had things to print and arrange.

Fortunately, you stapled the last documents together when your boss appeared from his office. He offered you a smile, and you grabbed the files, leading the way to the conference room.  The meeting went well, but all of your colleagues, as well as the boss, only wanted one thing; to go home. Even your boss started discreetly yawning as his father spoke to him discuss strategies and ways of earning more money. Sitting in front of the CEO, you exchanged quick eye rolls and chuckles as he imitated of his father.

“San,” the growling voice of his father interrupted his little game, making him clear his throat, “a little bit of seriousness, please,” “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, and you pursed your lips to stifle a laugh, trying to stay as neutral as possible.

Once the meeting was finally over, everybody got out of the conference room, only leaving you and San behind. You gathered all the documents and cleaned the wooden table, ready to be used tomorrow.

“Can I offer you a drink tonight?” San suggested, and you almost dropped your files, not expecting this coming out of the CEO’s mouth.

“I think I have plans tonight,” you said a bit hesitantly, and San’s eyes tried to read through yours. “Come with me, I promise it won’t be long.” “Alright,” you nodded, and so did he, walking out of the room with a quick smile.

You swiftly took your phone and sent a message to Hongjoong.

[You] : My boss invited me for a drink, is it okay for you? [Joongie] : Don’t worry about it Y/N, enjoy your “drink” with your boss 😉

You huffed at your friend’s words but went back to your desk anyway, shutting everything down and grabbing your purse. Your boss was waiting for you in the hallway, greeting you with a smile as he called the elevator.

The bar he brought you to was quite chic, I mean, what could you expect from him. You were starting to get comfortable around him, even if his bossy attitude was still present. You started talking about your centre of interests, work, and his father. It didn’t feel ambiguous, and you thanked the gods for that. You parted ways with a handshake near your car, making sure that you were safe and fastened in it before leaving you to go to his.

As the weeks went by, San started becoming friendlier to you, sometimes even at work. You tried to shush him with a stern look, but he simply shrugged. He didn’t seem to care, but you didn’t want your colleagues to start imagining random things or rumours about you and your CEO. He was a handsome man, people would kill to get your post, so they wouldn’t hesitate to intensify the rumours if they were to hear some about you. In this world, everything is allowed, even if it means to spread false rumours about someone to try and get to their job. But San didn’t seem to mind. Of course, he was the big boss’ son, what could happen to him? Nothing, exactly, except if he made a big mistake, but flirting with his secretary wasn’t one of them. It’s not that his flirting was annoying and unpleasant, - rather on the contrary, if you were being honest -, you just didn’t want to risk your job for childish behaviours with your boss. You almost had a few heart attacks when he randomly came at work with a huge bouquet of flowers in hand, gathering everybody’s attention as he walked past your colleagues. You always had to justify yourself that they were on your desk, in a vase, because he was allergic to them and he didn’t want them in his office. Of course, it was for his mother, who would – never – come to pick them up. He apparently loved to see you all blushing and struggling to give an explanation when a co-worker appears at your desk, eyeing the flowers as they saw them in the CEO’s hand a few hours prior. You liked your boss, but sometimes, you hated him. 

This flirting went on and on for the next few months until you reached your first year of working in the company. You were so proud that you’ve made it this far and you truly hoped that you could keep on working there as long as possible. With your income, you managed to move out another time and buy a bigger place, offering a bedroom to your daughter, as well as a small playing room linked to it, you were both in heaven.

“Y/N, at what time do we need to go to the tailor for the next week’s event?” San asked you as you took your breath to speak to him. “At 2pm, sir,” you said with a smile, opening a new tab on your computer. “Will you come along?” he asked and you shook your head, typing something on your keyboard as you looked up at him.  “I need to lead this afternoon’s meeting since you won’t be there,” he slowly agreed, a veil of disappointment showing in his eyes.  “Okay, make sure to keep me updated on that,” it was your turn to agree, and he added, “see you later,” before shooting you a wink, your breath sticking in your throat. You shook your head as soon as he left, getting amused at his behaviour.

The day of the big event finally arrived, and everyone was stressed, especially you. You spent your days driving between the company and the place where the event would take place, coordinating and leading everything to make sure that everything would arrive in time and be well done.  On that night, you greeted people at the entrance, guiding them through the hall, sitting them at a specific table, your colleagues taking the lead. Hongjoong and his wife showed up with your daughter, placing them at a strategic place where you could see them, but San couldn’t. Your daughter looked extremely cute with her pinkish dress and her small ballet flats, softly dancing along with the jazzy music that was played. You managed to free yourself from your boss to come and quickly kiss her on the cheek, happy to see her.

“So that’s San, right?” Hongjoong asked as you hugged them. “That man over there?” his wife asked, eyes glowing. “Yes, that’s my boss,” you said with a shy smile, making sure that your hair was well fixed. “Y/N, you have a very good taste in men, damn,” she said, and you laughed, earning a side glance from Hongjoong. “I need to go, but if you could please keep it on the low, he doesn’t know about anything, and I don’t particularly want to explain everything tonight,” they nodded and kept your daughter close to them. You hugged them one last time as a colleague gestured to come back, waving one last time to your friends before hurrying back to the entrance. 

The event was going extremely well. You were a bit nervous to go on stage with San, you weren’t used to speaking in front of so many people, but you imagined yourself being in a conference room and it went a bit better. San’s presence next to you was reassuring, smiling at your friends as it was his turn to speak. Your eyes scanned the room, recognising a few loyal clients, offering them a warm smile. However, your smile instantly vanished as a familiar figure appeared in your field of vision.

Jongho was here, sat at a table with a few of his co-workers, as well as his boss. You didn’t remember sitting them at a table, and you got confused. You mindlessly applauded along with the crowd as your boss finished his speech, but you couldn’t put your heart to it, your mind too preoccupied with something else. 

You made sure that your boss’ microphone was turned off before telling him about your trouble.

“Tell me, that table n°15, I don’t remember inviting them,” you covered your mouth as you leant towards his ear, his eyes focusing on that said table. “They weren’t supposed to come, but they sent me a text that they finally could. Jihae sat them at this table.” You slowly nodded, and your eyes met Jongho’s, a pang in your chest made it suddenly hard to swallow. “Are you okay, Y/N?” Your boss asked, laying a reassuring hand on your arm. You nodded, but San’s eyes squinted and dragged you away from prying eyes. “Tell me what’s wrong,” his voice trailed, and you took a deep breath, worrying him, “you’ve been feeling bad since we talked about that table. Is there a man around it that made you feel uncomfortable?” “There is my ex-husband, I mean, my ex-boyfriend sat at that table,” you corrected yourself as San’s eyes widened at “husband”, making you look in his eyes. “Your ex-husband?” you nodded, and he sighed, looking up to check if anyone was spying on you. “I didn’t know we were doing business with him, I would’ve told you about it earlier if I knew,” you mumbled, and San shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. Are you okay now or do you want to take a walk outside?” “I think I'll be fine,” you said, avoiding his eyes as you weakly smiled. San didn’t like that your mind was elsewhere; he felt like he couldn’t help you, and that’s exactly what was currently happening. You briefly smiled at him as you cleared your throat, slowly walking away from him.

“Y/N?” he asked, and you turned around, your focus finally on him. “Yes?” “Is there something that you’re not telling me?” you almost took a step back but refrained yourself from doing so, but San caught it. You slowly shook your head with a smile, feigning ignorance. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you answered, voice wavering, heels clicking on the floor as you fled from his questioning.

You found solace in your friends’ presence, as well as your daughter’s. It was nice to have them here, but you weren’t as comfortable as you wished you’d be when your ex-husband was on the other side of the hall. Hongjoong acted as a control tower, innocently looking around regularly to see if Jongho would randomly show up.  San observed everything from afar, wondering which one of the three men could be your former husband. He doubtfully eyed them, everything clicking when one of the men and the young child you were carrying in your arms laughed at the same time.

They had the same smile. Both slightly throwing their head back as they laughed. There was no doubt left. It was your ex-husband, and that little girl was your daughter. He deeply sighed as he discovered the truth on his own, a bit disappointed that you didn’t trust him enough to tell him everything. 

“Dad, when you have a rough past, would you say it to your boss?” “Why that question? I’m your boss,” he remarked as he munched on the lobster. San hadn’t touched his plate, his focus shifting from Jongho, your daughter and you, who was sitting at a table not far from him. You were fake laughing with your colleagues and praising the food you had on your plate. He knew it was a fake laugh, because it wasn’t as melodious as it were when you were together. He had the habit to crack a few jokes here and there, your laugh being the most beautiful music he’s ever heard in his life.

“Just asking,” he said as he stabbed the rib steak with his fork, eyes never leaving your table. “I wouldn’t immediately say it to my boss, but I wouldn’t hide it either,” his father said after a few minutes sat in silence, which surprised San. He nodded and thanked his dad, who was suspiciously eyeing him. “You’re mysterious sometimes,” his father said as he shook his head, gulping a sip of red wine from his glass. “I know,” his son mindlessly answered and the father looked at his son as if he had gone completely crazy. San’s eyes never left the table your friends sat at, your daughter enjoying her precious time with your friends.

Areum took so many facial features from you, she looked like a mini version of you. She had traits that he didn’t recognise, probably coming from her father side. She looked well brought up, quiet and shy when people gently waved at her. 

You looked up from your wine glass and noticed San staring on his right, his eyes shifting to you, a light smirk tugging on his lips. You raised your glass with a smile, trying to show him that you were feeling better. He looked deep in thought, and that’s when you realised that he probably understood everything. Slowly, you turned around to look at where he was looking, and you met the sparkling eyes of your daughter, who enthusiastically waved at you with a smile. You winked at her and waved back, sending her a flying kiss. Turning around to look at your boss again, he gestured you by the head to stand up, to which you did. You waited for him to excuse himself from his father and you went together to your friends’ table.

There was no point in hiding anymore.

“Hongjoong, Hyunjae, this Choi San, my boss,” you said as Hongjoong’s eyes widened, swiftly swallowing what he was in his mouth. Hyunjae patted her mouth dry before smiling at the two of you. “And this is Areum, my daughter,” you said almost embarrassed, but Hyunjae looked at you with a comforting smile. San kneeled down to be at your daughter’s level, who kicked her legs in the air, getting shy in front of your boss.

“Hello, Areum,” he quietly said, and your daughter looked up when he mentioned her name, smiling when she saw the grin on his face. “Hello,” she shyly said, you and Hyunjae softly cooing at her behaviour. He shook her tiny hand, and she finally dared to look at him in the eyes, as you had taught her to do when you shook hands with someone. San chuckled at her behaviour and played with her leg, shocking everyone when Areum made grabby hands at him. You looked at Hyunjae, bewildered, and she had a hand covering her mouth. San smiled, scooping her in his arms, standing back up. Areum’s tiny arm was wrapped around his neck, and she looked at the crowd from his height. Your boss softly tickled her belly, only to have her shrieking and sinking her head in his neck. He laughed along with her, and so did you, the nervousness leaving your body as your boss teased your daughter. Hyunjae smirked at you, and you waved her off, trying to get your daughter back, but she refused to leave his arms. 

“She’s the cutest,” San mumbled, and you chuckled, following him as he started walking away from your friends’ table. They motioned you to go along as you weren’t moving, Hongjoong slightly pushing you to get into action. You found a bit strange the path that San was following, but you soon realised that it was strategic. Out of nowhere, he grabbed your hand and made you walk near the exit, your linked hands in a great display to your ex-husband. They stared at each other, yet didn’t say anything, but San made it clear to your ex-husband that there was no chance for him to have you back.

“You’re mine now,” he whispered in your ear, and you shivered, squeezing his hand with a nervous smile. “What? Really?” you said, trying to focus on him and not Jongho. “I think your daughter already adopted me, I have no other choice but date you,” he smirked and, once you were out of anyone’s field of vision, he swiftly kissed your cheek as if he was sealing his love for you, making your daughter laugh, getting tickled another time by your boss.

You couldn’t believe it.

[shnuggletea]

Chapter Three is now LIVE!

You can read chapter three here, on AO3, or on my Patreon! Make sure you check out the amazing art that goes with this fic by the lovely and talented @kirrtash!

Art:

Izayoi, Toga, and the glass between (Unofficial title)

Group shot/movie poster (Unofficial title)

Thank you @inuparentsday​ for the event that keeps on giving!!

Tags!

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“Idiot. Fucking stupid, brazen, jackass!” Miya was taking Toga’s ‘slip up’ as well as expected. “Tom foolery, ridiculous, and stupid!”

“You said stupid twice.”

Miya glared over at Toga while he toweled his wet hair. “The point of letting you get captured was to get information on them not the other way around!”

“I got plenty of info and I even got an informant.”

“Tricking some poor woman into helping you doesn’t count as an informant. And you lost So’unga and Tessiega! What the hell are you going to do about that?!”

Toga grinned and Miya groaned. “I’m going to wait until my informant finds them for me.”

“You realize the amount of danger you’re putting that woman in? And she has no clue either so she doesn’t count as willing in all of this.”

Toga finally felt some guilt. Although all of what Miya said was right on the money, Izayoi not being truly willing that was the only truth he cared about. “Once she gets me my swords, I’ll let her go. Alright?”

Miya wasn’t appeased. “Don’t you think it’ll be far too late by then?”

She wasn’t really sure where she was but she knew she was still in the building. Izayoi hadn’t had the… ability to leave. After watching Toga jump and survive the ‘expressway’ out of the building she hadn’t felt very well. He had been so fast to that window too. There was more to him and she knew it but her mind was so hazy. When she tried to remember more all she could think about was his shining amber eyes and warm smile. 

This wasn’t like her; she didn’t get swept up in ridiculous matters like a man’s eyes or smile. She was about the facts and the ones she had… well they didn’t make sense.

Bodies were rushing around her, stepping over her. She was sitting on the floor in the hall just outside her lab. Voices were murmurs in her brain like buzzing bees. She tried to swat them away but they persisted until she was forced onto her feet. In her head, she was playing the moments with Toga over and over again; his strength and speed the main thing she focused on. Which led to her thinking about his muscular figure and strong chin. 

It was then that she slapped herself: hard. The voices cleared and she realized she was in trouble. “What did you do?”

It was a lab assistant from Takemaru’s lab. He was accusing her of wrongdoing. It must be the wide open door to their lab and their missing test subject. Looking around, she saw that it was all security, cops, and a few low level scientists and lab assistants. Including the one holding her now very aggressively.

“Excuse me?” She barked, pulling her arm from him as harshly as she could. “That… thing attacked me!”

He looked remorseful and stepped back. While she slipped into her lab. The test tubes were clean; she added ethyl alcohol to them to make sure they were contaminated and unusable. The only thing that remained was Takemaru’s ID card still in her pocket. She moved it from her lab coat pocket to her jean’s. Then stripped off her coat and grabbed her purse. She would be expected to give testimonies. Something she should have been figuring out once Toga left instead of trying to figure out Toga. 

Back out in the hall it was even more of a mess than when she left. Takemaru was there now, ranting and raving. Then his eyes landed on her. “Izayoi!” She cringed openly this time but he took no offense. Instead, he wrapped his arms around her and Izayoi was both confused and uncomfortable. “I’m so sorry!” He pulled her back but didn’t let go, holding her a short distance. “Did he hurt you?”

Confused, she shook her head at him. But then it hit her. They thought she was a weak little girl. As offensive as it was, she would use it to her advantage. “He… he used me…”

Not once had she been scared of Toga but they expected her to be. But she couldn’t lie; it went against her nature and ethics completely. So she didn’t.

“He used me to find his things…”

“What was he looking for?” A lab assistant asked.

“His coat and his swords.” She realized yet another opportunity. “I thought that was so strange; that he had swords? Is he crazy or something?”

Takemura huffed. “Yes, he is crazy.”

Lie. Toga wasn’t crazy and she had seen that for herself. He was something else. “So there aren’t swords here belonging to him?”

“No,” Takemaru answered quickly, “because they no longer belong to him. They belong to us; to Shikon.”

She shivered while the others around nodded. They were all drinking the kool-aid now; speaking of the company they worked for like it was a person or God. But she needed to focus because this was a very important moment that she wouldn’t get again. “It seems dangerous to have something like a weapon on the property.”

Izayoi made sure to add in a small whimper and look as weak as possible. Takemaru started rubbing her shoulders in comfort, falling for it easily. “Have no fear, Izayoi. Only one of them is truly dangerous. I have it locked away. The other one we’re carefully studying.”

Carefully studying? That would mean it was on floor nineteen assuming the sword was made of metal. At least she knew where one was but where the hell was the other one? “What are you doing with the really dangerous one?”

Takemaru smirked and then… patted her on her head. “I’m taking good care of it, Izayoi.” This time, she shook in anger but they took it out of context. “You should go home. Get some rest. Take tomorrow off. Your files on the blood are on the index right?”

She hadn’t put anything on the server yet, thankfully. “No. And he made me destroy the samples.”

A little vein popped up on his forehead and the smile he wore was forced. “He did, did he? We will just have to get more then.”

It was harder to give Miya the slip than it was to find where Izayoi lived. Her scent was… distinctive. And he had gotten a good whiff while carrying her around. The balcony he sat on now had hints of her scent but he was sure when she turned on the lights inside. 

Three days had passed since he last saw her and even he had to admit that he missed her. Which was strange since he didn’t know her well. She was a stickler for the facts (her notes told him that) and he could tell by her scent and face that she not only knew when she was being lied to, but that she hated when anyone did. 

That was good since he couldn’t lie to her.

She had a small bag with her (from the store) that she was emptying into her fridge. Toga watched for a few more seconds before knocking on the glass between them. Izayoi jumped slightly as she turned. The calm that fell over her when she caught sight of him had him feeling warm in his chest. And the way she rushed to let him in made his heart jump; a rare thing for a demon to feel. 

Izayoi was barefoot; leaving her heels at the door. The icy chill of the night washed over her feet as soon as she open the door for him. That, and worried someone would see him, had her rushing to get him inside. Toga didn’t hesitate, strutting in but she still tugged him hard. He let her pull him in like it was a struggle for him. But even if it wasn’t her home, Toga still would have hurried in to get out of the cold.

Her place was warm but not hot, a perfect representation of the woman. She made him warm enough without the need for heat. Now they were just standing next to the door he’d come through: staring. “How did you find me?”

Stepping away from her, Toga started looking at her place. It was small but homey, a one room apartment that had a small bed in the corner, a floor table in the middle, and her kitchen in the far corner. “I followed your scent.”

“Oh, ha, ha. Seriously, did you follow me from work?”

“Sort of.”

Izayoi didn’t like that. He shouldn’t be going anywhere near Shikon. Grabbing his hand, she turned him to face her and Izayoi noted that he let her. “You should stay away from there.” The smirk he wore made her chest feel tight. Memories of him jumping from the window flashed in her head. She shook them away quickly but didn’t look at him again, turning towards her couch in the corner instead. “What are you doing here? I haven’t gotten your swords yet…”

“I know. I came to check on you.”

She huffed sadly, trying to go to her kitchen but was stopped by something. “Is that your job? Checking on the people researching you?”

Izayoi tried to walk away from him, but he still had her hand in his. She tugged to a stop when he didn’t let her leave and then looked back at their hands like she forgot she had grabbed him first. “No,” her eyes jumped up to his face, “it’s not my job. I came because I wanted to.” Her eyes went wide and he was drowning in them. So he forced a painful laugh out of his tight chest. “Had to sneak out, actually.”

“Sneak out? You have a keeper or something?”

“Something like that.”

He was being vague and it was on purpose. “Did you have to sneak away from your wife?”

This time, his laugh was pained because he choked on it from her unexpected question. “No. Although, Miya acts like a ball and chain sometimes.”

“Miya?”

This time, he tugged on her, pulling her back the short distance she had gotten away. “I shouldn’t discuss others with you. Okay? I don’t mind telling you about myself but without their permission, I shouldn’t tell you anything about them. Understand?”

Izayoi nodded numbly, staring up at him with her eyes wide again. Toga found he couldn’t stop himself; lifting a hand to brush gently across her cheek. It was warm to the touch which matched the pink color it had. He pretended to sweep a stray hair behind her ear but Izayoi knew there was nothing there. He was just touching her. 

She cleared her throat and dropped her head. Effectively breaking the spell on herself but not Toga as he continued to stay near to her; following close behind her as she went to her kitchen. “Would you… like some tea?”

He didn’t really drink the stuff but Izayoi was nervous and wanted something to do with her hands. And it would be nice to drink something hot. “Sure. Thanks.”

Toga stayed near as she filled her kettle and set it on the heat. Izayoi grabbed mugs and tea bags while he watched intently. It was good to have something else to focus on besides his eyes; it had her wits back. “So… you never told me… why are you here?”

In a flash, Toga dug into the from of his red jacket and pulled out a small bundle of files. “I thought you might like these back. I added a few things for you.”

She took them carefully and folded them into herself. “You came here to give me back my files?”

“And some notes of my own!” He added, defensively. 

“Thanks,” she responded curtly, holding up the files to wave.

It was a nice gesture and would save her some grief since she had been wanting to study her findings more. But it didn’t tell her more about what Toga was and it didn’t quell the little voice in her head that said ‘he came here to see me’. The voice had been loud at the time. Now it was like a sad whisper.

A nice gesture and yet she felt so… offended. 

“You can’t just tell me what I want to know? What did you write anyway?” She said, abruptly opening the returned files and searching for his ‘notes’. Reading for a few moments, she slapped them shut and shoved them back into his hands. “Funny.”

“What?”

Now she was angry. Toga showed up to mess with her. “You wrote ‘cat demon’ next to my blood results. That’s… hilarious, let me tell you.”

“Izayoi…” He stepped up to her and she turned her back on him. It didn’t stop him, looming over her from behind and still having such an overwhelming presence. “I haven’t lied to you once.”

He hadn’t, she was sure of it. But this was different. It felt like a joke. The whistling kettle was her reprieve and she took it. Toga didn’t let up, his breath puffing over her shoulder and down her back. Izayoi took the loud kettle off the heat and didn’t move again, letting him press into her. He ran a hand over her shoulder and stopped at her bicep.

“Izayoi…” She closed her eyes with her name on his lips. He grabbed her arm and turned her slowly to face him; she kept her eyes closed. “I’m not supposed to tell you… anything. It’s… dangerous for you to know…”

“But I want to know you…” she thought, but didn’t dare say out loud.

“Then open your eyes and I’ll show you everything.”

Izayoi didn’t question it, assuming that he read her thoughts off her face or some other telling way and opened her eyes. Toga’s eyes were no longer a soft and comforting amber. Instead, they were a raging red. It startled her, sucking in a sharp breath only to have the red disappear as quickly as it appeared. The scientist grabbed his face, placing a thumb on his cheek and pulling down the skin to look closer at his eye. The demon grabbed her waist and wrapped his arms around her. 

She ran her thumb across the purple skin on his cheek. It felt like regular skin; not raised and rough like a tattoo. And it wasn’t faded at all like a tattoo that was healed enough to have no difference in the skin. It was his skin; the color was something he was born with.

“You’re a…” Izayoi started but he stopped her by kissing her, bending down swiftly to shut her mouth with his. She responded instantly by twisting her head to the side and letting him slide his tongue in her mouth. He really just wanted to keep her from saying it outloud but he’d be lying if Toga said that was the only reason. Izayoi had this inexplicable flavor to her; just like her scent, he couldn’t define it. 

This was all just to shut her up but Izayoi still felt her mind, body, and heart open to Toga. It was why she let him brush his tongue across her lips and why she responded by licking his fangs. His FANGS! Toga had razor sharp teeth in his mouth. And his hands were pressed into her spine, bending her back. 

He suddenly twisted them, spinning them away from the stove before Izayoi got burned. But he kept walking her backwards, unable to stop once he started. She stumbled a few times, causing their mouths to break apart. A few seconds at a time, Izayoi kept coming back to his lips for more. Even when they fell to her couch; Toga fell heavily on her without worry. 

Toga was between her legs and his hand slid up her shirt. Just as she was thinking how rough his jacket was on her skin, his hand left her and unzipped it; flinging it across the room soon enough. She had her hands threaded in his hair but with the removal of his jacket, she snuck her hands down and pressed them into his lower back. It pushed up his shirt and she found his skin. He was doing similarly, running his fingers along her ribs while she sucked on his lower lip.

“Toga…” He jumped back when she said his name in her head. Izayoi had moaned it in her mind and it drove him crazy. All of it had; her scent, taste, and the way she felt under him and his touch. Toga was out of control and he needed to get a hold of himself.

Without understanding, Toga was now a short distance from her instead of on top of her. He was pacing as he pulled his jacket back on. Her files were all over the floor from where they were dropped in a daze. Izayoi was still in a daze, her lips burning from the cool air of the room that now hit them. 

Toga quickly scooped up the files and dropped them on Izayoi’s lap. “Read my notes. I’ll be back.”

“For… your swords?”

“Yeah.” He dashed away after that. It wasn’t a lie, he would be back and he would be coming for his swords. But it was so much more than that. Toga just wasn’t sure Izayoi understood that.

She sat on her couch putting her cold fingers to her hot lips; wondering if she was now a means to an end for Toga. Pulling open the file on top, she read over his notes. His handwriting was scratchy and manly. Izayoi instantly shook her head for having such a silly thought and read on. He had marked the indicators in her results, ones that she didn’t understand before and labeled them as ‘demon’. It was crazy and yet it all made complete sense. 

Izayoi knew Toga wasn’t lying to her. He never had. So now she had to wrap her mind around it all including how she had just made out with a demon.

He hadn’t gotten far from Izayoi’s place when he smelled her. She wasn’t trying to hide; that much was clear. If she wanted to be known then he would just address her, stopping mid ‘flight’ and dropping to the ground from the light posts he had been using. It was the best way to travel; the light blocked him from sight and he could get from place to place much faster without worrying about exposure. It only worked at night but it was better than walking.

“To what do I owe the pleasure, MiLady?”

She stepped out from the poorly concealed spot she had been in and pursed her lips in irritation. “What are you doing, Fighting Fang?”

“I’m just out for a walk…”

“Don’t play me! What are you doing with that human?!” She roared.

Great, she’d been following him. “That’s none of your business anymore. What with us divorced and you sending your goos after me? I’m not inclined to divulge such personal information…”

“Did you tell her about us?”

“No.”

She scoffed. “Of course you did. You and your love for humans…”

“I didn’t tell her shit, MiLady and you need to stay away from her. Unless you want her to figure out more about your kind?”

MiLady’s lips pursed together again, aging her like only Toga could. “My kind is the same as yours. You just forgot. You and I are one and the same, Toga…”

“No, I’m nothing like you or your minions. I believe we can co-exist…”

“Humans are meant to be our slaves not our equals! When will you get that!”

The vein on the side of her jaw was twitching. Something that happened when MiLady was really pissed. Toga was used to it. “If they’re meant to be your slaves then why do you hide from them?” She was silent and he laughed. “Can’t be your slaves if you’re terrified of them!”

“The less they know the better. You used to agree to this fact!”

“And I still do. Which is why I didn’t say a word to Dr. Hime about who or what we are.” He needed her to believe him. It was true, he didn’t say anything to Izayoi. The last thing he wanted was to put a target on the doctor’s back… again. The humans she worked with weren’t a problem but MiLady? She would terrorize Izayoi for sport. “MiLady, if you mess with her, she is just going to use it in her research and figure out everything.”

“All the more reason to erase her from existence.” MiLady threatened.

Nothing more was said. If he fought her on it, MiLady was liking to figure out his attachment. If she hadn’t already. She flicked her fingers across her Meido Stone and disappeared. Not that he hated the idea but now he would have to keep close watch on Izayoi. 

Oh the things he did for the sake of humanity

[sweater-daddiesdumbdork]

Fall Back to the Jet

Summary- Bucky x Y/N (Steve, Natasha, and Sam features) Cap tells you to fall back to the Quinnjet, but you decide on another option. Lucky Buckys close by. Warning- Violence, swearing. Written for @hopingforbarnes​ 250 Writing Challenge. Congrats!!!! Prompt is in bold italiacs. 

Word Count- 1.9k

It was all going smooth till Steve spoke directly to you in his com “Y/N, we have it from here, fall back to the quinnjet” 

You were still the rookie although its been a year, and Steve was the Captain, No one defies the captain, except for you. You eyed the open doorway the hydra agent just went into, taking a deep breath as your resolve settled, you werent going to sit on the quinjet any longer while the rest cleaned up. Ducking into the dark doorway, you stalked down the stairs while hearing your name being yelled at in the com “Y/N, I TOLD YOU TO FALL BACK” Sorry Cap, not this time. 

There are times in your life you maybe regret a decision, this was one of them. You thought the room was clear, sweeping your sights back and forth from the other end of a rifle, when there was a clip to the back of your head, knocking you forward and stupidly dropping your gun. “You Mother Fucker!” you yelp, and turn to face your opponent, twisting your head slightly to knock out the kink he put in your neck. He was well over twice your size, his meaty hands flexing to get around that slim column of your neck, you could see it in his eyes when he lunged at you, side stepping around him with a kick. It was like bouncing your foot off cement and didnt phase him much, smirking at you as he came at you again. “SHIT!” you state as you start blocking and trying to attack back. 

“Bucky you got her?” Steve hissed as they barged into a lab and Steve threw up the shield, blocking the barrage of bullets aimed at the two men. 

“Yea I got her” Bucky ducking behind the shield and once in a while lifting behind from it and aiming his own specially trained on targets rounds, he twisted away and went back out the way he came, using his vibranium arm to slam open doors to see them empty. “Come on Y/N, where the hell are you?” He snarled, until he heard you cussing out someone and the shallow sound of flesh getting pounded on. He hoped that it would be you doing the pounding, but when he opened the door, that certainly wasnt the case. 

Bucky came into you looking twisted around the mans arm, and him slamming you down into the floor, doing your best to keep your head from being bashed in, attempting a kick into his face, his throat, just about anywhere to get him to release his hold. Blood ran down the side of your face from your scalp and your words were flying just as much as anytime youve ever been pissed off, regardless of the situation. “If you dont let me the fuck go you dick wilted asswipe, Im gonna rip your balls off and stuff them down your throat.” If Bucky wasnt scared as hell for you at the moment, he would have rolled his eyes at you, once he realized the way you were being flung back and forth wasnt gonna allow him to take a shot, he shouldered the weapon.Close attack it would be 

Without another pause, Bucky strode forward, his strides wide and his metal arm slammed into the hyrdra agents side of the head, jarring his hand to open wrapped around your neck and you fell to the floor from a considerable height,snapping the back of your skull against the cement with a sharp cry. Rolling away from the two men clashing like titans above you. Bucky was shorter in stature then the hydra agent was, but much more quick on his feet, as well as being a super soldier, it wasnt exactly a fair hand on hand fight. Within minutes the agent was merely blocking the bone rattling blows Bucky was issuing, you were crawling across the floor to where you dropped your weapon, sitting back and putting it to your shoulder, waiting to get a clear shot.

Buckys silver hand wrapped around the back of the mans neck, the plates clinking as he tightened pressure and swung him around right in the aim of your shot, you lining hydra right up in your cross hairs, and pulling the trigger. Barnes turned his face away to keep from getting splattered from brain matter and blood. Loosening his hold, the hydras body, minus the top of his skull, collapsed with a dull thud. You lower the rifle and wince, placing your hand against your head. “Bucky... he got me pretty good.” Your vision going in and out at the moment. 

“Jesus Christ Doll” He hisses as he sidesteps around the body and goes to you, his hands cupping your face to look in your eyes. “Can you focus on me?” You blink a few times and wide eyed stare right at him best you can. 

“Hows that?” You question, grinning stupidly since your just glad Bucky got there in time. He frowned a bit and sighed, wrapping you in his arm to get you to stand. 

“Steve, I got her, Im taking her back to the Jet.” He spoke, not to you though and you didnt bother trying to get an answer. With his assistance, you two hobbled, less with sleuth, but with plenty of pauses for Bucky to check to make sure the coast was clear, the two of you headed outside. Sam was already in the jet, waiting on the two of you. 

“Steve and Nat are finishing up downloading the computer files, then they will join us. Come on Kid, I got a spot waiting for you.” 

“She had her head hit pretty badly” Bucky stated as you two followed Sam inside, going to sit you down, a wave of nausea threatened to upchuck whatever breakfast was, which what was that again? Oh yea, bowl of Wheaties, you remarking to Steve and Bucky this morning across the table. 

“Breakfast of Champs!” You werent exactly feeling like a champ right now. 

Sam looked you over to, prying one eyelid open, then the other. “I think shes going to be okay, but once we reach the compound we will be able to take a closer look.” Bucky settled in beside you and you pried them open once more. 

“Thanks for coming for me.” 

It was this moment Steve and Natasha returned, Steve snapping past you without acknowledging you at the moment. “Get us home Sam” his voice clipped, and Natasha plopped down next to you, her eyes brimming with worry. “Hey, we win some, we loose some right? You also got a hard head, I know.” She teased, having sparred and tumbled with you plenty of times. Steve stayed up at the front with Sam for the moment, but once he was sure you were okay, back home, you were most likely gonna get one of the famous Cap speeches youve seen him dish out to other agents. For now you were content to lay your head on Buckys shoulder, his hand resting against his knee, palm up. Without hesitating, you weave your fingers with his and he gives them a gentle squeeze. It might amaze others just how gentle he could be with that vibranium limb of his. Not you though. 

When the jet lands, you walk off, much more in control then before, but Bucky still hovers nearby and follows you into the medic bay. Quickly your head is checked over, a flashlight shining in your eyes, follow the finger, clean up the scrapes and blood. “Your gonna be dizzy for a few days, so nothing strenuous.” 

In this moment, you were okay with that. 

Steve came in, his demeanor still snapping in anger, but a touch calmer then before. He glanced at the medic and asked “Please, give us a few moments Ma’am, then you can have your patient back.” Bucky moved to take over bandaging the rest of you up as the medic left the room to the three of you. 

He looked at you, hands moving to rest against his hips as he seemed to asses you. “I heard your okay, Y/N. Good, you gave your team quite a scare.” You did have the audacity to look a bit sheepish, but felt the need to defend your actions. “I know, I honestly thought I had him.” 

“Thought, not good enough. Your still fairly new to the team...” This caused a look from you while Bucky patched up the back of your head as best he could. “So I think a bit more team building practices are in order Y/N. Until then, field work is off the table.” 

“What? Steve, come on.” You go to push Bucky back so you can stand up, but hes firm, firmer then you can give him credit for. “It was one mistake, I made a bad call.” 

“Yea, could have gotten you killed. Your always trying to think solo and you just cant. Were a team Y/N. We work together. Ive already made the decision.” 

You kinda gape as Steve turns to leave, fuming. You swear your heads going to blow like in those old bugs bunny cartoons where it goes off like a train whistle. “That son of a bitch just benched me. BENCHED ME!” This time you manage to move to a stand, about to storm off after Steve, but Bucky caught your arm and sat your ass back down. 

“Youve got to calm down before I can fix you up, Okay?” Bucky said calmly as he works diligently. His hands just as gentle as ever, you can barely even tell hes doing anything. You stay as still as you can, fighting back frustrated tears at the Captain benching you like this. Your tired and sore, your reaction just adding to your already bad day. “It was one mistake, one. I just hate always being told to go back to the jet when I could be helping you guys out. It was a bad call on my part, but fuck... I just wanted to be useful. I cant believe how bad this has turned into.” 

Bucky is silent for a moment before he pulls back and studies your face momentarily, and sighs. “Listen, I will talk to Steve, okay? Right now hes just being a dick. He will give everyone else crap about not following orders, but damned if he does.” You wipe at your face to get rid of the frustrated tears build up and arched your brows, hopeful. 

“You would really do that Bucky? If he says yes, I promise I wont mess up again.” 

“Course I would, and let me tell you, Steve wouldnt have listened either.” He went to pick up the tools and waste sitting on the table nearby, and scrubbed his hands clean. “Let him just cool off, hes probably speaking in worry as well Y/N. He doesnt always show it, but your just as much family as the rest of us.” 

Tentatively you go to stand, touching the bandages he finished securing gently and wincing. Without even asking he held out some aspirin that you popped immediately. “How about we go crash on the couch? You still owe me live commentary on that second little people going to drop some jewelry in a fiery hole movie. What was it again?”

This caused you to laugh. “The Twin Towers? Sounds good Bucky” 

@what-is-your-plan-today​ @official-and-unstable-satan​ @p8tn0lish​ 

[sarissophori]

Forebode, Chapter 5

Captain Hindel sat in the bridge as the shuttle maneuvered in for docking. She had since muted the feeds to spare her crew the sound of Varrez’s crying, though allowed the feeds to continue playing. Protocol aside, she decided against hiding this from her officers; even if she wanted to, it was well past the point.

       She still couldn’t believe it on some level. Her first mission as captain, in charge of a new crew, and she already suffered a fatality under her watch. A gruesome one at that.

       “Someone better tell Dr. Walsh to cancel that surgery” Komev said, finally looking away.

       “I sent them in” Hindel said softly. “I told them to go inside.”

       “You didn’t know this would happen” Ellson said.

       Hindel scoffed. “Oh yes, go investigate the strange alien ruin on an unexplored moon, what could possibly go wrong?”

       “Captain” Tajmaran said. “The power surge from the structure has gone off our charts, still rising.”

       On XH-Ld’s surface, from the midst of the fossilized forest, a point of light shone and grew, flickering in a pulse that emitted a bright band of energy that spread across the moon like a ripple on a pond, racing over plains and mountains, vainly annihilating a world already dead, until it overlapped itself on the opposite end, breaking against its own wave. The pulse stopped, the readings dropped, and XH-Ld was sterilized once more.

       The bridge crew watched, though found little amazement in it. They felt like children uncovering a harsh truth hidden from them by cautious parents, stumbling blindly into it without context, all the more scarred by it.

       “Shuttle’s docked, ma’am” Ellson said.

       “Tell them to meet me in my quarters when they’re able” Hindel said. “You have the bridge, Ellson.”

 Word spread through the ship about Talgold’s death, creating an air of confusion and sadness, especially with Dr. Walsh. Hindel waited at her desk, equal parts patient and anxious, wondering how she would inform Sorenson of this, and how the company would inform his family.

       Her console chimed.

       “Captain’s quarters.”

       “Hornens reporting, ma’am. Let me start by saying I’m sorry to hear about Talgold.”

       “Thank you.”

       “I’ve got the flight recorder sorted out” Hornens said. “And the damn thing’s encrypted. Most of it, anyway. Code Three.”

       “Three?” Hindel said. “That’s company eyes only.”

       “Sure is” Hornens said. “So unless we’ve got a high-ranking CEO onboard, this has pretty much been a waste of time.”

       Hindel thought a few moments, keeping him on the line.

       “Captain, you there?”

       “Do you have any experience with such encryptions, Mr. Hornens?”

       Hornens scoffed. “What?”

       “I’ve read your file. You used to write code for Sorenson’s security division before transferring to engineering, not on the happiest of terms either.”

       “That was years ago” Hornens said. “Even if I did, accessing those files without executive approval is a felony offense. We could lose our jobs just talking about this.”

       “One of my crew has already lost his life” Hindel said. “And an entire ship was lost before that. I’d say those are circumstances warranting a peek behind the curtain, wouldn’t you?”

       “I don’t think they will.”

       “If they bring down the hammer, tell them I threatened you with insubordination and confinement; I’m a first-time captain gone hysterical who almost had you thrown out the airlock; I’ll make up the story, all you have to do is back me up on it.”

       Hornens laughed nervously. “I’d never ask you to do that.”

       “What would you do if you were in my position, Mr. Hornens?”

       Now he kept her waiting on the line. He sighed. “Give me an hour. Hornens out.”

 A few minutes later Varrez, Han and Barrens entered her quarters, their faces pale and sunken. Dr. Walsh was with them, standing to the side as an impartial listener. Their debriefing started at when they first lost contact in the structure, going methodically and painfully over the details up to the point communications were reestablished; Talgold’s activation of the structure, how its interface injured and affected him, and the creatures that attacked them. Here the debriefing lingered, having the hardest questions and the rawest emotions.

       “We can’t tell you what they were” Han said in summary. “Animals, aliens, if it was the builders of that ruin mutated by infection, or if that’s just how they naturally looked.”

       He shuddered. “I’d hate to think anything like that could be natural, though.”

       “But now what happened to the Wanderer makes more sense” Barrens said. “The growth in the lab, the blood on the walls; it must’ve infected some of them. It wasn’t a mutiny; it was an outbreak.”

       “Do we still have samples of this onboard, Dr. Han?” Hindel said.

       “Not anymore” Han said. “As soon as we returned, I vaporized all the samples. I sterilized the containers and vaporized them too, just in case.”

       “I guess procedures were less strict on the Wanderer” Varrez said flatly. “Didn’t know what they were dealing with, treated it like another benign specimen.”

       “And it was one of the infected crew that attacked you, killing Talgold?” Hindel said.

       Barrens shrugged. “As far as any of us can tell.”

       “Where is his body?”

       “In one of the pressurized rooms by the hangar. He got decontaminated with the rest of us, but I’d keep him in there just in case.”

       “Doctor” Hindel said, turning to Walsh. “Given the nature of what we’re dealing with, keeping his body for an autopsy or any other reason would be putting the crew in unnecessary danger of infection, would it not?”

       “Agreed” Walsh said. “Best to give Talgold his proper send-off, seeing as we have no way to vaporize an entire body. Sooner, rather than later.”

       “Very well” Hindel said. “If there’s nothing left to discuss, I declare this briefing, and this mission, over. I’ll notify the company, and set a course for home.”

       “Roger that” Barrens said. The others silently nodded.

       “I’ll personally see to Talgold’s remaining affairs, if you don’t mind” Walsh said. “Least I can do, being his former superior.”

       “Not at all” Hindel said. “And I’m sure it goes without saying that everything that happened on the surface, and this debriefing, is to remain classified, especially when we return to port. Understood?”

       “Yes ma’am” they said.

       “Good, I’ll inform the others as well. Dismissed.”

       They filed out in a somber mood, returning to their stations or to their bunks, whichever seemed better. Varrez remained, sitting quietly, looking beyond where eyes could see with unbroken concentration.

       “Varrez?”

       She blinked. “Captain?”

       “Do you need anything?”

       Varrez smiled thinly.

       “No ma’am, I’m sorry, it’s just…after what happened, I never thought I’d actually look forward to a cryo-pod.”

       “I think we all are” Hindel said. “Remember, if you do need anything, I’m right here.”

       “Of course, thank you captain.”

       Varrez excused herself and left, leaving Hindel alone. One heartfelt sigh and music request from her console database later, her chime went off.

       “Captain’s quarters.”

       “Hornens reporting, ma’am. I’ve accessed the logs and have them on file. Should I send them over?”

       “Please.”

       “Transferring…”

       An icon appeared on her screen. She tapped it and opened a catalog of feeds, reports, archives and personal logs, arranged from oldest to newest.

       “I owe you one, Mr. Hornens.”

       “Let’s hope it was worth it, Hornens out.”

       The catalog began with the Wanderer’s entering of the XH system and ended, rather abruptly, after a few dozen logs, the latest dated a week after the crew’s waking. Hindel chose a written log mid-way through the list and worked her way down.

 <Log 5

 Anderson, Samuel M. manual report

 Mission time: 4,452.17.03 hours

 Northern hemisphere fully mapped. Found several promising sites for

 further exploration; schedules already made and preparations underway.

 Results should be interesting.>

 It came with a list of attachments, scans of the promising sites: basins, dry river valleys, et cetera, and one Hindel recognized. She tapped to enlarge the image, and felt immediate dread. It was the fossilized forest where the alien structure was hidden. She flipped through more logs and reports.  

 <Log 8

 Anderson, Samuel M. manual report

 Mission time: 4,467.37.11 hours

 Site 15-45 checked out today. Quite the anomaly. Samples taken and studied.

 Wanted to investigate strange readings inside, but sudden storm caused

 mission abort. Will return on better conditions. Content with samples

 until then.>

 So they didn’t find the structure? How did they encounter the creatures then? She opened an audio file from their science officer, dated a little after Anderson’s eighth entry.

         Science division, Dr. Alder recording. Following a hunch about XH-Ld’s previous climate conditions, I’ve placed some of the samples in a nutrient-rich bath inside a container of oxygen. An hour into the test, and already I’m getting signs of revitalization. If it keeps going this well, I might do similar tests with the other samples. Who knows what we could learn from this tough little son of a gun? It would be worth a lifetime’s worth of work to see what kind of flowers bloom from that forest once we get a colony going. End report.

 She read her way to the two last entries on the file. The next to last was the final audio log from Dr. Alder.

         Science division, Dr. Alder recording. A day into the test and the samples are getting too big for their containers. I had to move them to the largest ones I’ve got. Their rate of growth and regeneration is astounding; just imagine the medical applications. Also, they’ve begun to sprout fungi-like protrusions; I plan on testing those as well, as soon as I find more containers. End report.

 Then, the last entry. It was a video recording from a personal log, with no date or description. After a little hesitance, she played it.

 Through the initial static, it showed the efforts of two people soldering a pressure door shut, breathing heavily and muttering worriedly.

       “Think that’ll hold?” a man said off-camera.

       “No” a woman said, also off-camera. “None of the others did.”

       The perspective then went bobbing down a corridor, held by shaking, nerve-wracked hands.

       “Oh-kay…” the male voice said. “This is Captain Sam Anderson recording what will likely be my final log. The sample, the thing…it’s devoured most of my crew by now, turned them into, into…”

       He paused for a breath, swallowing the knot in his throat.

       “They swept through the ship so fast, it’s only me, Tanaka, Gavin and O’Keeffe left. The rest are gone. If the company sends a rescue party, if someone comes looking for us, get out of here…get the hell out of here, before it devours you too…”

       His frayed composure slipped for a second, and he began to sob. Fighting his pending breakdown, Anderson continued.

       “I’m going to crash the ship and jettison a pod with the flight recorder inside. Hopefully, that and the high-level encryptions will keep it intact until someone finds it. Please find this. For the love of God, find this. It’s too late for us. This is Captain Anderson, signing off.”

 Static, then nothing.

Heart pounding and herself on the brink of tears, Hindel jumped from her chair and ran out of her quarters, sliding down the ladder to C-deck. Pausing only to catch herself from slipping, she barged into the rec room where Barrens, his men, and doctors Han, Varrez and Walsh were gathered. Her haggard stance immediately put them on edge.

       “Barrens!” she said. “You and I are getting into pressure suits and spacing that body, right now, do you understand?”

       Barrens, flat-footed, gave a quick “Yes ma’am.”

       She ran back down the corridor, Barrens following close behind. Varrez’s fingers started to tremble. She glanced at Han and Walsh.

       “This just won’t end, will it?”

[the-quiet-carrotcake]

Evil Author Day! 2020

I decided to contribute some wips to this beautiful day! 

Reminder that they may never be finished :)

Here are my humble offerings:

Batman fandom

Warnings for dark themes, swearing, creepiness, inapropriate humor, sarcasm

1.Au "With This Ring"

Nightwing is closest when Babs issues the notice. 20 minutes after they lost contact with Red Robin, he arrives at the scene. Dresses thrown around like confetti, suspicious tears and stains on them. He carefully makes his way inside, noting the signs of forced entry. Inside the shop, a chaos of mannequins parts and broken furnitures greet Nightwing but what makes his heart drop is a single mannequin on the pedestal in front of the mirrors, Red Robin's cape messily draped over it. It is visibly damaged and worst, dripping in fresh paint of familiar garish colors with a piece of paper pinned with a knife through the neck. N doesn't register himself moving until he has the paper in his hands. A message written in a too familiar and hated script. Joker. Joker has his baby brother and he is going… He's gonna…

"-twing! Respond! Nightwing answer me!"

Footsteps coming from the back.

"Oracle, I'm at the location. Whoever was here, they escaped through the sewers. There's footprints leading to the basement. Found one of Red's gloves. Access the plans and possible- I have visual on Nightwing."

2. Animal transformation au

A not so abandoned part of a factory on the edge of an old industrial zone. Creepy, a health and safety hazard, there's even a couple of traps! How lovely! Reminds me of my childhood home… oopsy there Ader! Shoulda watch where you walk! Hehe… Oh, somebody shut him up! We're on a schedule here! If the Doc's here, he knows we coming now. Bah! One surprise ruined, lots more to come! 

"You! Take a camera and film around the place! Such opportunities!! The angles. Don't forget the angles! Dolly Sisters, go with him. And be discreet. We don't want bats in our belfry too soon, do we? Hehehe"

"The brat's still out? Good. Okie doo. Let's meet the maker!"

"Good evening Doc! We rang."

"I heard. Interesting doorbell… Like a dying man..."

"Why! Thank you! Now. We don't have an appointment, tight schedule and all. But I'm sure you can squeeze us in."

The doc look at the group, spotting what appears to be the Robin bound and unconscious in one of the thugs arms.

"You brought your own subject for my studies?"

"Of course we came with presents! What kind of maniac do you take me for?"

Going to a file cabinet, taking out a binder with the list of choices available and putting it on a rickety table with a flickering old lamp, the man motion them to come take a look.

"Hmm. Do you have a preference?"

Joker make a show of looking at the pages, fussing here, cooing there, until, grin widening, he puts his finger on a line.

"You know what Doc? The brat's a bore, worse than his babysitter! Never heard him laugh! It's heartbreaking."

"Oh yes yes. I have something you might like. Please, follow me this way."

They follow the doc into another crumbly room, repurposed into a makeshift lab with a refrigerated cabinet full of vials, a sturdy table with straps and a reinforced large animal carrier in close to it. Further, through door shaped hole in the far wall, glimpses of cages shining dully in the dim light. It looks like veterinarian kennels, mostly large ones, some were even on wheels.  They could see fingers and what looks like claws peeking through the wiring.

"Got lots of guinea pigs there Doc?"

"The change cause less stress and has more survival chances if the subject is young. Of course it depends of the size and animal wanted." Eyeing one of the bulkier thugs. "I haven't try the… bigger ones yet. Cow, rhino...maybe walrus."

3. Semi immortal Jason au "The Lives Of Jay"

Hood walk back to his safe house, because his motorbike ain't where he stashed it, after a rough night in the Narrows. No hood or mask on his face, but with the amount of ashes he's covered in, there's almost no risk of exposures. Clothes singed, burn to a crisp in certain places, he mourns the lost of his weapons, his boots and his favorite jacket. Finally arrived at his safe house, making a beeline for the bathroom. Shower time! Sweet hot water washing away the grime. 

It's after his shower, with a towel around his waist, that Jason realize the state of the safe house, there's dust on certain places and a couple dirty take outs boxes on the kitchen counter, with the coffee machine almost shining out of the mess.

Fuck, did it happened again? How long has it been? Maybe he can play it off, say he had an urgence with the Outlaws?

A beep/alarm from his laptop on the coffee table (that he did not left there) caught his attention.

"Hood?" Even with the electronic filter, Jason could pick up that Babs was shaken and hesitant? Shit. He must have triggered a sensor they put there. Okay, play it cool.

"O. What's up?" Now that sounds just like an idiot.

"Heard rumors there was a big building fire in your neck of the woods. With you in it."

Shit

"Just some trigger happy idiots in a room with explosives. Big company with no scrupules likely. Families were in the building. Hey, I must have been knocked out by a beam or something, are the families ok?"

"Yeah, Hood, the Wayne foundations took care of them, they're ok." 

There's at least that. 

"Jason?"

That's not good.

"Spill, what's going on?"

"The fire had been really bad. We looked for you. All B found was blood, lots of blood and  your helmet, melted. And before you lie to me, your friends haven't seen you in months. Care to explain what happened?" 

Oh shit-fuck. Oh this was bad. He had to get out of Gotham, right now.

Quick before- How long has he been talking to Babs? Crap. He doesn't want to, but Jason will run with just the damn towel on him if he has to.

"Jay?" Oh not Babybird, but better than the Bat, or Grayson.

Turning to the window with the fire escape outside, he sees Red Robin climbing in.

"Uhm. Hey Red."

The glare he received gives him an idea of how much shit he's in.

"First off, go put some clothes on. And please don't try to run away. The others have been notified, I was closest."

"Ok ok, while I change, can you explain to me why my place looks like a dumpster?"

"Yeah, I'm working a case, or half a dozen, trying to cover your territory. It's been a rough couple of months, you know?"

That has Jason freeze. "Months? Really?"

"Yeah man. So, as much as you don't want to, we are going to the Manor."

"Whoa wait a min-"

"No, Jason. We're going. And if you try to run, remember, we all have supers and speedsters on call. Come on man, there's something going on with you and we need to know what."

"Dude I just got home after climbing out of burned ruins and walking in disintegrated boots. I'm tired, hungry and not in the mood to see B or Dick right now."

"That's good then, because Bruce is out with the JL and Dick's in 'haven, Damian with him, O made sure the alarm didn't reach them."

"You're welcome" The computer chirps. 

"Come on Jay. Alfred needs to see you."

Cheater, taking him by the sentiment.

"Low blow. But alright. How we go?"

"My bike's not far, yours at the Cave."

"What?!"

"Bruce has trouble letting go, you know?"

"I'd prefer it if had been stolen instead."

4."The Distraction"

Assassins surrounding Tim, being less and less subtle, encircling their prey as the bird is making his way through less populated areas.

"The Master is demanding your presence."

"How can he be so interested in an american?" 

"One as bothersome as him?"

"Hey! I'm not happy by the situation either, ok?"

"You know better than question the will of The Demon."

"Didn't I kicked your asses before?"

"The Cradle."

"So mixing business and pleasure then."

The Master orders are to bring you to him. He did not specified the condition he wants you in. 

"Wow. This is getting a bit serious. And my communications are blocked, of course." 

Of course. You understand how we operate. Now, will you accompany us without resistance or will you have us dragging your broken corpse to the Master?

5. "Magic gives Batman a headache"

"B. We have a situation"

"What happened?"

"Well, Im hoping for an hallucination but I got evidences of it actually happening."

"Nightwing"

"Okay, here goes: Hood and Red have been kidnapped by a magic user in a Disney princess costume."

"..."

"B"

"Red Hood and Red Robin have been kidnapped? By a magic user?... Dressed in a princess costume?"

"Yup. Come to think of it, I think the guy was dress as Snow White."

"A man in a Snow White costume has kidnapped your brothers?"

"Yup. I got video footage"

"Come back to the Cave, I'll contact Zatanna. Alfred? I'm gonna need something stronger than coffee"

[takadasaiko]

Clever Minds and Strong Wills (a Captain America fic)

FFN II AO3

Summary: Steve and Howard have a late night chat in the labs in which Steve learns more than most about Howard's family and his past. WWII fic.

Clever Minds and Strong Wills

There was rarely any warning when they showed up at the command center in London. Word filtered through the ranks that the Howling Commandos had arrived and the lab went into overdrive. It was a race to get the equipment repaired and upgrades implemented, often just in time to shove them right back out the door with only the Hydra tech they left behind as proof that they were there at all.

Today was different, though. They still hadn't had much warning, but at least they had a few days to work with the team to make sure everything functioned as it was designed to when they were out in the field. It was a shame that it took half the team in the medical wing to keep them there. From what Howard had heard, Gabe Jones, Dum Dum Dugan, and Steve took the brunt of the hit. Cap was, of course, already back on his feet like nothing had happened by the time they'd arrived back at HQ, but the others would need a few days minimum of time away from the chaos they functioned in.

Howard had thought that he'd have to drag Cap into the labs to stake claims on even just a few minutes, but Steve had stuck around longer than he'd expected. As the hours stretched on and the others filtered out for the evening, the two men sat in the quiet of the space. The conversation started and stopped, ideas bounced around for a bit before Howard lost himself in the work only to be pulled out of it by Cap's voice after an undetermined length of quiet.

"You know, last time I got any say in the designs was from a few thousand feet in the air."

Howard's hands stilled and his lips twitched into a lopsided smile. "Last couple. I snag the time when I can get it."

He heard Cap snort a soft laugh. "I always got the impression you offered to fly us when no one else would because you like the thrill."

"I have been told I get bored too easily," Howard chuckled and reached for a wrench.

"Do you always stay after everybody else is gone?"

Howard glanced around, realizing that they were the last two left in the lab. "Most nights." By accident, most of the time. He'd dive into a project and forget to surface until the wee hours of the morning.

He heard a soft acknowledgment from Cap, but then nothing more for a long moment. Finally he glanced back before swiveling around in his chair to look directly at him. "I doubt you need a lot of sleep, huh?"

"Not since the serum."

Howard tilted his head, studying him. "Had to have been a hell of a turn around. I saw your records before the procedure. Looked like you had every health complication in the book."

He wondered if the question was a step too far as he watched Steve expression shift. With the exception of the occasional conversation about Peggy Carter, they really didn't discuss personal matters, much less Cap's life before the serum. Slowly, though, the other man's tense expression softened a little. "It's amazing how little I think about it now. You'd think I would, but one mission to the next, I don't really have time for it."

"Your buddy Barnes doesn't give you hell about it?"

"Only when the other guys aren't around, which isn't much."

Those sharp blue eyes were fixed on him and Howard had to crush the urge to squirm. He wasn't used to being the one under careful observation.

Finally, Cap drew in a breath, settling back in his chair a little more. "What about you?"

"What about me what?"

"You've seen everything in my file, probably know my whole life story, but about all I know about you personally is that you have a successful company, you're the best pilot I've seen yet, and I still can't place what part of New York you're actually from." He stopped, amusement flashing through his eyes. "Oh, and you hate being called Mr Stark."

"Mr Stark's my father," Howard answered automatically, not liking where this was heading. He liked Steve. Respected him, but he had found out a long time ago that letting people get too close - letting them learn too much - was a dangerous business. He'd stuck his foot in it by bringing up the other man's past though, hadn't he?

"Is he still around? Your father?"

Yep. Up to the kneecap and sinking fast. His own curiosity had gotten the better of him. "I imagine so."

Howard saw Cap's face twist up like he was trying to find the missing piece. "Don't you talk to him?"

"Not if I can help it." He risked a glance over, a frustrated sigh escaping at the expectant look he was on the receiving end of. Yep. This was on him. Never should have brought it up. He waved his hand in the air, doing his best to keep his time casual. "We never saw eye-to-eye."

"On what?"

"Anything."

There was a long, likely thoughtful pause before, "He has to be proud, though? Everything you've accomplished? Everything you've done."

Howard wanted nothing more than to dive back into his work and ignore the question. He could kick him out, true. Come up with a semi-reasonable excuse or just be an ass to ensure Cap got the hint. He had no problem handling others around him that way, but there was something obnoxiously honest in those blue eyes. Rogers wasn't an idiot - far from it. He might not have had the same training or scientific leanings that Howard did, but the man was clever and one of the quickest learners the engineer had ever come across - but he was naive in a lot of ways. Sheltered. Fathers were proud of their sons. Families were close. That was just the way his world worked. Must have been a nice place to grow up. Safe.

"Nah," he answered at last. "He thought I was lazy. Wasting my time."

"That can't be true," Steve managed, almost as if hoping he'd misunderstood something.

Howard glanced around, re-confirming that they were alone. He spun his chair so his own dark eyes met those bright blue ones. "My earliest memories of my old man are of him chasing me out of whatever hole I'd found to tuck myself away in to read. Thought I was lazy and useless because I wasn't just like him. My guess is he's still selling fruit from the same overpriced vendors from the same rickety old cart on the same corner in the Lower East Side."

He risked a glance to see Cap soaking in more information than Howard had shared with anyone in a decade. Strange. That overwhelming honesty that Abe had seen in him was apparently contagious. He needed to watch himself there.

Rogers loosed a long breath, settling a little deeper into the chair. "We didn't have much when I was growing up either but… all I wanted was to be like my folks. They always did the right thing, even when it cost them. Especially when it cost them."

Howard didn't mean to snort. Not really. "I hate to break it to you, Cap, but no one's perfect." Even Captain America's perfect parents had a skeleton or two Cap just hadn't found. Everybody did. Idolizing then just because they were blood was a luxury Howard had never known. Never wanted to. It was t like he could have ever been what his father wanted anyway. He'd have sooner thrown himself off the Brooklyn Bridge.

"When's the last time you spoke to him?" Steve asked carefully.

"I left home at thirteen. Went to school and didn't look back." He'd left in the middle of the night without even a change of clothes with him. He'd lied his way into the prestigious school, but if his father had had half a notion where he was going he would have found a way to shut his plan down. The senior Stark has come to America at the same age looking for a better future, but instead had settled into society's expectations and had tried to teach his son to be complacent with the same. Howard hadn't had it in him. He didn't have a complacent bone in his body.

"Do you have contact with your mother?"

"A little. Usually get a letter from her once a year or so. Last time I was in the same room with her I had the audacity to offer money. I thought the old man was gonna come after me with his belt like I was ten years old again," he chuckled, shrugging. "Guess that was actually the last time I saw him. She's never without him, so we don't see each other. Her choice. She knows I'd cover the fair uptown."

Cap stared at him like he'd broken him. That look was exactly why he didn't like to discuss it. A look like he'd lost something. Couldn't lose something you'd never had, though, so what was the point? He did well enough. Hell of a lot better than if he'd stayed put.

Howard loosed a long breath and rolled his shoulders back, trying to straighten them out of their increasing slump. "Don't make a bigger deal of it than it is," he muttered. "And, uh….keep it between us, huh, pal?"

"Not a big deal, just a secret?" Steve asked, a quirked eyebrow accompanying his amused tone.

"You know how people are." From the look he received he wasn't entirely convinced that he did. "Born on the wrong street, wrong side of the tracks, you gotta be running a scam of some kind."

"Can't possibly be the fact that honesty isn't exactly you're go-to."

Well huh. Okay. With the physical changes that the serum caused, it was easy to forget that clever, observant mind that drew Abe to Rogers in the first place.

"Lessons learned," he said instead, shrugging.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It's life. Coulda been worse, and I came out of it."

"Maybe he'll change his tune after the war's over."

"You never lose that damnable optimism, do you, Rogers?"

"I try not to."

Howard snorted, the sound amused more than not, and stood. Three in the morning. If he wanted even a couple hours of sleep it was time to call it a night. It was probably the easiest way to end this increasingly uncomfortable discussion as well.

"He should be."

Cap's voice startled him a little and he looked over. "Should be what?"

"Proud. You know, Dugan's only alive right now because the body armor you sent with us this last time took the brunt of the blast we were caught in. You've gotten us in places that no one else would touch and make sure we're ready to face whatever tech Hydra throws at us."

He paused and Howard found that he couldn't break the gaze that held his. He'd become accustomed to - and even expectant of in many cases - the high praise that accompanied his work by those around him, but Roger's words dug in deeper. He wasn't one for idle flattery and, unlike so many others, there were no strings attached to this. No quid or quo that exchanged praise for whatever the person wanted in return. No. Cap was just honest. Absurdly honest. Howard wondered if he'd ever get used to that.

The engineer cleared his throat. "Thanks, Cap," he mumbled, not entirely certain that was the right response, but it seemed to work out okay. Rogers flashed that grin that went all the way to his eyes.

The blond didn't leave as Howard packed his equipment away, but he also didn't press any further on the other man's family. They chatted about upgrades and design flaws and an upcoming mission that Steve wanted Howard to fly them in on. When they finally parted ways to catch as much sleep as they could before the next day officially began, Howard felt a strange sort of ease that he never found after his father found a way to bully his way into his thoughts. He had always been a stranger in that man's world and an oddity in the one that he wanted to belong to, but here - surrounded by soldiers and danger and tech he could only begin to unravel - he felt at home. Sure, Cap was right. He did plenty of good around here, but in the end he was fond of the people that surrounded him. Clever minds and strong wills. The Steve Rogers that wouldn't be told he couldn't enlist and the Peggy Carters that would be put behind a desk. The Abraham Erskines that wouldn't bend to oppression. They weren't pinned down by what society wanted to make them.

And to think he almost passed up the opportunity to join the SSR at all.

End.

Notes: I feel like there must have been so much more behind Howard and Steve's friendship for Howard to be so, so obsessed with finding him. You don't develop a life-long obsession like that for an acquaintance, even if you were involved in the experiment that changed their life. I can't help but think there was a piece of Howard, that kid from the Lower East Side, that found a connection with the kid from Brooklyn.

Might be more to come.... We'll see.

[chiauve]

Five Times Wesker Looked After Birkin (and One Time Birkin did the Same for Him)

Forgot to update here. The First, the Second, the Third, the Fourth:

Birkin couldn’t help but double check that that straps were secure; Lisa Trevor was agitated and the protective gear they wore was for the viruses, not her. They looked tight but he stayed out of reach just in case.

She shifted, moaned and tugged against her restraints.

“Be a good girl, Lisa, and maybe I’ll let you listen to a record for a little,” Wesker said in a tone that wasn’t soothing at all and in fact gave Birkin goosebumps. Still it seemed to work and Lisa calmed slightly.

Take advantage of that now, he thought, she won’t stay that way when the needles come out.

Birkin set up the tape recorder. He wished they’d gotten hold of a video recorder but Marcus wouldn’t allow them the more expensive equipment for what he considered their ‘side projects’. How insulting. The Ebola virus could open up possibilities to grant the T-virus the power it would need to be a viable weapon. The old man was blind to actual progress.

“Subject Lisa Trevor testing for a sample of Ebola, November 23, 1978, ten thirty-eight AM. We will inject a sample into the subject and track symptoms over a period of ten days.”

“You get first shift,” Wesker said, unlocking a sample of the virus from its container and drawing some into a syringe.

“Oh no, you just promised our dear Lisa some music time, seems only right you ensure she gets what she was promised.”

Wesker huffed in the back of his throat in that way that meant he was annoyed but not enough to do anything about it. “Are you ready? I might need help holding her.”

Birkin eyed their deformed subject again but moved closer. The straps would hold her down but she could still thrash and disrupt everything.

It would be a waste of a good test subject if the Ebola killed her, but they were placing their faith in the Progenitor virus that had kept her alive so far. The chance to study the Ebola virus' entire cycle in a living host was too much to pass up.

“Ready?”

Birkin positioned himself.

“Now Lisa, be good girl, it’s just a little prick...”

At the sight of the needle Lisa’s semi-calm demeanor shattered and she shrieked and thrashed.

“Hold her!” Wesker snarled.

Birkin grabbed at her shoulders but too late. There was a sharp snap and two of the restraints broke. He fell back as the entire table lurched under her violent movements but he was too slow. She leapt upward, instruments flying and Birkin threw up his arms.

Wesker slid in front of him, throwing his arm back and shoving Birkin behind him as she lunged. Birkin tumbled backwards over a stool. The snap and sizzle of the cattle prod lit and Lisa shrieked in pain.

“Bitch!” Wesker yelled, and struck her with it again. She wailed and retreated enough that Wesker took the offensive and went for her again.

Birkin would not consider Wesker cowardly, but he was certainly not stupid and abandoning the lab and locking her in and summoning security to deal with her was the practical thing to do. Wesker was nothing but practical, so much so that it had been attached to his name by their colleagues.

(No imagination whatsoever, no wonder he and Wesker were at the front of the research; the ability to design bio-weaponry required not only intellect but a mind that could expand and imagine the possible from impossibilities.)

And yet Wesker did not retreat to the door. He did not run from the monster that could rip them apart with as much effort as it took Birkin to tear a piece of paper. He forced her back, moaning, striking her enough that she backed away into a corner on her own and stayed there, huddled and whimpering. Only then did Wesker back away, rod raised, to Birkin. He dared look away from her briefly, glancing at Birkin before extending his free hand.

“Hurry up, let’s go.”

“Wesker...”

“I said let’s go, she won’t stay afraid of this for long. Call security they’ll—“

“Al!”

Wesker glared at him, as though Birkin was suddenly too stupid to understand what danger they were still in, but paused when he saw William’s wide, alarmed eyes. He followed their gaze to his extended arm, to the syringe that was sticking into his flesh. It had been forgotten in the tussle and with his adrenaline rushing he still didn’t even feel it.

“Oh my god.”

“Will...”

“Did it depress?”

Wesker ignored the question, suddenly very, disturbingly, calm. “We’re going to leave this lab and lock her in...then quarantine procedures...”

“Did it depress?”

“Shut up!” Wesker grabbed Birkin by his tie and dragged him to his feet, not daring to lower the cattle prod from Lisa’s direction, who was now eyeing them, even to pull the needle out. Birkin couldn’t stop staring at it. It didn’t come loose even with the jostling.

It was in deep.

Wesker shoved him out the door and hit the emergency locks, the hiss of hydraulics reassuring them that Lisa was no longer a threat.

Birkin was shaking and it had nothing to do with her.

“Will, the quarantine,” Wesker said, unable to keep a tremor out of his own voice as he reached for the syringe and pulled it free.

A part of Birkin suddenly wanted to say no, fuck the quarantine, let’s go. We can get away before they notice... But to what end? The survival rate of Ebola was very low.

Wesker would be dead in a couple weeks, max.

“Will.” How the hell did he stay so damn calm?

Birkin tripped the leak alarm, lights flashed, the low keen of an alarm echoed down the hall, and the door out of the preparation room shut, locking them in.

Wesker slammed the syringe down on a metal table beside him and folded his arms tightly, glaring anywhere but at Birkin. His lips were pressed tight and he said nothing until they were retrieved.

---

Birkin was not spared the disinfecting procedures, despite the fact the syringe never went near him. He was stripped, hosed and scrubbed until his skin was raw and then locked into a quarantine cell by himself with nothing more than a pair of loose scrub pants and a cot. One of his colleagues arrived soon after, hidden underneath protective gear to take a blood sample.

Now it was a matter of waiting, and it was going to be a long one. They wouldn’t release him until they were damn sure he was clean. Fortunately Birkin’s mind would keep him from complete and utter boredom as he took advantage of the uninterrupted time to rethink Progenitor and its potential. No annoying reports to write and file, no Wesker forcing him to eat. Just the blood tests.

Still, after the third day he was getting restless.

“How am I looking?” he asked Dr. Jameson as the researcher folded a cotton ball into the crook of his arm. God he was starting to look like a junkie...

“So far so good, but I didn’t think otherwise. This is just procedure.”

Dr. Jameson didn’t like Birkin and wasn’t afraid to make sure everyone knew it, but he was also as close to one could get to a man of integrity around here and didn’t wish death on the man (dismissal, yes, maiming, maybe, but not death). He was also not one to drag his personal feelings into his work; both Wesker and Birkin could appreciate that and despite their animosity they worked together better than most.

“What about Wesker?”

“Are you worried about him?”

Was he? “He’s one of the few people around here I can stand, but if he is infected I damn well want to be there to record it.”

“Don’t count on that. Dr. Marcus is...not happy with you two. You might even be removed from the project after this.”

Birkin couldn’t help but wince slightly at that. If he was removed from the T-virus development he was essentially useless here, and the useless usually found themselves strapped to a table under the scalpel of their former colleagues.

But worse than that, he wouldn’t see the work through.

No. Progenitor and the T-virus may be Marcus’ projects, but Birkin had poured his dedication into it, had made such advancements and discoveries...

They would not be ripped from him. Not ever.

“Dr. Wesker’s showing no symptoms as of yet, but it can take about ten days for them to manifest.”

“What about his blood work?”

“You’re fine so far, isn’t that all you care about?”

---

Without inspiration or work to look at, Birkin could only turn the theoretical T-virus of his mind so many ways, and after a week his mind wandered. He kept going back to the lab, to Lisa, to Wesker.

To Wesker’s arm as it swung and thrust Birkin behind him, away from Lisa.

He was cleared at the end of the week, his blood work consistently clear and no symptoms to be had outside increased bitchiness and a need to get back to work.

Wesker was still in quarantine.

Dr. Marcus was indeed displeased but the week had lessened his fury to mere frustration. Birkin was forbidden access to the Ebola samples and Lisa Trevor for the time being, relegated back to a few old abandoned projects as punishment. Languishing with dead ends was a punishment, and yet if he managed to make something of it then Marcus benefited, of course.

With some fake worry no one fell for, he was allowed access to Wesker’s blood samples and progress. Eight days later and he still was showing no symptoms. Birkin couldn’t help but feel a little hopeful. He really hated everyone else around here and without Wesker to act as his social buffer he might kill someone. They’d known each other for so long now that Wesker was, well, a good colleague.

He stared at the blood sample, rubbed his eyes, then peered through the microscope again.

“This is the most recent sample?” he asked Dr. Jameson.

“It is.”

“This isn’t right. The last sample was—”

“That’s the second one I took, I couldn’t believe the first and had to be sure.”

Birkin got up and grabbed the last two samples and slid them beneath the scope, scanning each one.

“What the hell.”

---

Wesker eyed him as Birkin entered his room but said nothing, remaining reclined on his cot and taking note of the books in Birkin’s gloved hands.

“They told me you were cleared but not that you were assigned to monitor me,” Wesker said.

“I’m not, in fact I’m stuck on dead-end duty, but sometimes if I act like we’re friends they let me look things over and check on you.”

“Are those books a good or bad sign?”

“Neither, I just figured you were bored. They’re from McKenzie’s desk though, so they’re most likely worse than the boredom.”

“Doubt it. I’ve had nothing to do but work out and jack off. I expect whoever’s on security camera detail either wants to kill me or send me flowers.”

“Gross, Al. But the good news is by the time you’re out of here Marcus will have forgotten about our failed experiment and you won’t be stuck in the records room. It’s dusty in there.”

Wesker sat up slowly. “So I am getting out?”

“Yeah, against all odds, you’re blood work’s clean. A couple more days in here just to be sure then you’re cleared. The universe must fucking love you.”

“Apparently. I was sure the syringe...”

“There was a lot going on,” Birkin shrugged and set the books on the cot, “We’re still going to have to burn those anyway, so don’t tell Dr. McKenzie you got them from me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Wesker said, propping a leg up on the cot and resting his arm on it. His voice remained as flat and controlled as ever but Birkin could hear the relief and sudden lightness.

How did Wesker prepare himself for death? Did he accept it or was he railing against it all in this room where no one could hear him? Birkin knew better than to ask.

Wesker arched a pale brow. “Don’t look so disappointed, Will. I’m sure I’ll make up not dying of Ebola to you somehow.”

“You always do,” Birkin muttered.

“Pardon?”

“Just...” Birkin reached up to absently scratch at his cheek but the visor blocked him, “you pushed me back.”

He didn’t want to talk about this, didn’t want to ask. They’d known each other for a long time now but both had long accepted it was a companionship of convenience. They’d been roommates, then came to Umbrella together, had been working side by side ever since, but there was nothing more. They weren’t friends.

Except Wesker was always dragging him off to keep him company out in the woods while he smoked weed, whether Birkin partook or not. Except Birkin had asked him to come home with him for the holidays because William didn’t want to face his family alone.

They were colleagues, companions even, yes. But friendship carried a weight neither of them wanted, neither of them needed.

Except Wesker stepped between Birkin and Lisa Trevor.

Eyes narrowed, Wesker regarded Birkin warily. “What are you talking about?”

Birkin had to know.

“When Lisa got loose, she was coming at me. You pushed me aside, got between us...”

Wesker’s abrupt, cold chuckle made the hair on the back of Birkin’s neck stand up.

“For fuck’s sake, Will. Is that what you thought? I was trying to get to the door; I know better than to try to deal with her. You were in my way so I pushed you aside. You’re lucky I just happened to shove you away from her.”

“Oh.”

Thank god.

Birkin let out a breath of relieved air then chuckled. “Don’t scare me like that. I thought you were being like...heroic or something.”

The look of disgust Wesker gave him was priceless. “If I ever do such a thing please infect me for real.”

“Noted. So, barring anything weird, I’ll see you in a few days when they let you out.”

“Feed Moldred for me.”

“I’m not ‘feeding’ your moldy old Thai food, why do you even still have that.”

“It’s for science.”

“No it’s not it... Never mind. Stay clean, don’t die, and,” Birkin pointed to the camera in the upper corner of the room, “stop flirting with security.”

“No promises.”

Birkin left and went through standard disinfection process before he went back to the labs. Going over Jameson's head, he’d sent the findings of Wesker’s blood samples to Spencer and then had the whole thing sealed, leaving some doctored reports in their place.

He saved some samples for himself and sat at his desk, staring at them.

“You always do,” Birkin muttered, staring at the gene code that would solve everything.

[masked-mallards]

Masked Mallards, the Multiverse, and Everything else

Chapter 4 The Investigation of John Duck

A couple of Hours Earlier….

It was silent in the car as Elmo drove. He looked to the passenger seat, Negaduck seemed bored and lost in thought. They were no longer in their normal uniforms, didn’t want to stick out like a sore thumb. Negaduck was in a sporting an unbuttoned expensive coat over a red dress shirt and a loose black tie and pair of torn black jeans. What really caught Megavolt's attention was the pin he wore on the collar of his jacket. It depicted a white rabbit with a frown on its face. He thought Negaduck hated the lagomorphs, then again Negaduck told him that this was his disguise. He never really had a life outside of his criminal activity.

If he didn’t know any better, he’d say that he looked like Drake’s slightly younger brother, but Drake had no siblings. Negaduck had said at one point that the Negaverse was 4 years behind Primeverse.  Oddly enough, Drake dressed that way before Gosalyn came into the picture. Megavolt looked in the rearview mirror. Gosalyn's eyes were still red from her fight she had with father as she looked through her school notes for her homework.

“So, squirt,” He started trying to break the silence. "Any chance you get to dissect a frog today?" Gosalyn continued to thumb through her notes. "No, the school won't let me, not after last time." She murmured. Negaduck snickered. Sputterspark ignored him and spoke again. "Look, kid, your dad just wants what is best for you, that's all." She looked up from what was she was doing. "That's what everyone says, he just wants Quiverquack out of the way so he can feed his ego." She responded.

Megavolt laughed for the first time since the night day before. “That does sound like Drake, but he was way worse during high school and his first few years as Darkwing Duck. He fought with our professors, got sent to the office for starting fights with other students who picked on any of his friends, which was mostly me. Remind you of anyone?” he asked, fully aware of the frequent phone calls Drake got from the school.

Gosalyn blushed but smile. ‘So, what changed?” she asked. Elmo smiled back. “The day he changed; was the day you came to live with him. He bought a house in the suburbs, a thing he swore he’d never do, he loved the city too much. Drake even swallowed his pride and got a stable job with me at Quackerwerks, until they closed down when the robots tried to take over.” They pulled in to the school parking lot. “He may not be perfect like me,’ he said jokingly.” But he does care about you, more than you’ll ever know.”. Gosalyn got out of the car and turned to her chauffeur.

“Thanks, Uncle Elmo," Gosalyn said as she swung her bag over her shoulders. "I needed that." Then she ran up the school steps and disappeared through the double doors. He turned his head to Negaduck, who had a smug toothy grin.” What so funny?’ he asked amused duck. “Oh, nothing,” Negaduck said with a pause trying not to laugh. “Uncle Elmo," he said in the sweetest tone he could muster. “Not a word of this to Bushroot and Liquidator!” Sputterspark said red in the face. “I've my own ego to maintain!”. Negaduck roared with laughter, as they spud off to the warehouse.

  St. Canard Bridge

Launchpad sat up from his chair and rubbed his eyes. He had been studying over Darkwing's case files for a couple of hours and cross-referenced then with Negaduck's ledger. Nothing came close as to the description of the clone. Nor, a way for it to have crossed dimensions without getting on the Magica's train. Due to the clone's age, Negaduck suggested that he was from an alternate future. He got from the chair and paced around. He stopped in his tracks.

After the Darkwing invasion, he and Scrooge McDuck had had a little disagree. McDuck had believed if Darkwing Duck were to continue as he is, he should reveal his identity to the world, be held accountable for his actions, and aid in bring the Darkwing doppelgängers to justice. Launchpad had defended his friend, by stating that Darkwing was not going to get involved in politics again after the Inkblot tried to corrupt him and that most of the clones were under the influence of foul magic from Magica, an enemy Scrooge McDuck was all too familiar with.  

Scrooge made it clear that was that the some that weren’t under her magic was what concerned him. He and his number one inventor Gyro Gearloose were already working on a way to make it possible to travel to different dimensions and timelines and had already begun to work on a prototype-like device. This was worth mentioning to D.W. once they met up again. Launchpad made his way to the elevator and took it down. Maybe Bushroot was having better luck than he was.

He entered the infirmary, the old Darkwing was on a hospital bed nailed to the floor and hooked up to various machines designed to keep him alive and monitor his progress. He was shackled by arms and ankles and had not wakened up. “If only he was this peace when he's awake.” A voice came from behind him. Launchpad turned to address it. "On that, we can agree" he responded. Bushroot came down a ramp in a wheelchair, his body had regrown expect for his legs.

It would be a little while longer before they would grow back. Until then he was wheelchair-bound. "How is he?" Launchpad asked. "He'll live," Bushroot answered, then proceed to make his way to sleeping mallard. "Come with me, I want to show you something,' He said. 'There may be more to the patient than we realized.”. Bushroot pulled out a notepad that he had been scribbling on. “What did ya learn doc?”

“The patient is around 50 years old, which puts him 20 years in the future of our own time.” Bushroot started. “Secondly, we brought him here for medical attention, yet when I was ready to operate on him, his bruises were gone, and the bleeding had stopped. Over the last two hours his stab wounds, given to him by Negaduck via broken shotgun, had cleared up with little medical interference, and bones that would have taken months to mend, have almost healed. There is also this.”

He put down the notebook he was reading from. Smack. Bushroot struck the clone across the face. "Normally," Bushroot said, waving his hand to hush Launchpad who was going to speak against the "doctor’s” treatment of the prisoner. "If a person has been knocked out cold, they would have awakened by now, or be awakened by an outside force or noise. However, as you can see…" Bushroot directed Launchpad to the still comatose duck. "So, what's your point," Launchpad asked trying piece it together.

" Last night, before the truce, Negaduck interrogated him in his way, via brutal beating." The plant scientist recalled. "He had escaped and forced open the door. I was surprised to see the tenacious mallard, in serious need of morphine, able to walk, much less able wield a weapon.” Bushroot grew quiet as remember to sounds that came from that room. “He escaped, but when we did find him this morning, his injuries were healed as if they were never there.” He continued. “The patient must have had time to sleep since then. My theory is, that he exhibits some sort of healing factor when sleeping or in a comatose state, whether or not it is connected to his inability to be made alert, I'm not sure." Bushroot wheeled around the bed near the clone’s head. “This may be why.”

During his time at the University, Reginald Bushroot was paving his way through the field of botany. He was trying to eliminate world hunger by finding a way to make animals photosynthesize like plants. Before he had tested his finding on himself, resulting in the plant duck he is today, he tested on plants and lab rats provided by the University of St. Canard. Each one had a barcode on them. Bushroot rolled the head of the John Duck to the side.

On the back nap of his neck was a barcode much like the ones he had used. “He was a victim of duck experimentation.,” Bushroot explained. Bushroot looked to Launchpad, the larger duck looked pained. Bushroot could also feel sympathy for the clone. It was a violently driven induvial, who tried to evade capture twice and had refused Darkwing’s help when he injured. Bushroot shook his head, the clone was their enemy, had killed Quackerjack in cold blood, and was hell-bent on killing Megavolt and anyone who got in his way. He couldn't afford to pity it.

  The Warehouse

  Negaduck and Megavolt appeared across the street from the warehouse. They had hidden the car at a nearby Hippo Burger, the same one Megavolt had visited last night. The Warehouse was deserted, not a single cop or reporter in sight. Negaduck had flipped through the radio after they had dropped off Gosalyn. The story was dead, not on a single station. He'd almost feel insulted if weren't considering the circumstances. "Looks like my counterpart made good on his end of the bargain,” he said. “Let’s not get shown up.”. He looked to Megavolt, who wasn’t paying attention. The rat was carrying a bouquet of brightly colored flowers he had "bought" from a local street vendor.

They entered through the broken window that the clone made when he had attacked. Negaduck landed on his feet like a cat, while as Megavolt landed on his stomach clumsily. The place was a mess of broken glass, bullet shells, and caution tape. Negaduck looked to the overturned table. Quackerjack was gone, all that was left was a white outline. The feeling came back strong, but after spending some time with Megavolt, he believed he finally placed it. “Remorse." He thought to himself. Did his time in this disgusting reality make him soft? The last thing he did to the clown was snap his arm two and failed to keep him out of harm’s way.

Megavolt made his way to the chalk outline. He stared at it somberly, his eyes were wide and red, but he was not about to cry in front of Negaduck. He placed the flowers near the overturned table. Silence filled the room. Negaduck grabbed his right arm with his left hand and shifted uncomfortably. He scowled. He was not about to let empathy, find its way to his corrupted soul, or ruin his reputation as a psychopath. “Once you’re done with your soapbox,” he said impatiently. “let’s get our gear and ditch this place.”. The electric rodent glared at the rude duck, yet this kind of behavior is what expected of him.

Negaduck scanned the area. There was nothing worthy of note, the police must have been thorough. It was a go thing the Fearsome 5 had stored backup gear in another part of the facility. The duck and the rat weaved their way through the maze of large empty containers, hallways, and stairs until they reach their destination. No one spoke. Negaduck stopped in his tracks forcing Megavolt to bump into him. The iron to their make shifted operational area had blown clear of its hinges, and left mangled on the ground. The pair entered the exposed room.

Everything was in disrepair. Negaduck's Dobermans were making a racket as they yanked against the chains that held them to a pole, Bushroot's lab had been destroyed, glass bottles and paper was everywhere. A trashcan fire was dying out, it was filled with notes, blueprints, etc., or what was left of them. Quackerjack's and Megavolt's equipment were smashed by a sledgehammer, which lay nearby. The mess, however, was organized and was sorted into piles of metal, glass, and plastic.

There was a warped piece of metal in the middle of the room. The piece of art was melted and tied in knots, but it was still a little recognizable. It was Megavolt’s Tron Splitter “What happened in here?” Megavolt blurted. Negaduck waved his hand at the dogs and they fell silent. He examined the trash fire. A crumpled paper that survived the blaze. He picked it up and brushed the ash off. Part of it had been burned off, but for the most part, readable.

 ---------- log.

Prime-verse: 2100 hours

Tron Splitter: destroyed

Eye of Quackzalcoatl: location unknown

Megavolt: at large

--------------lt: at large

Nega-Sc-----: at large

----------------: at large

 A green flash of movement came from under Bushroot's lab and wrapped itself around Megavolt's leg. “Spike!”. The pint-sized flytrap had been there the whole night. Megavolt pried him off his leg. It hissed at the sight of Negaduck, which Negaduck hissed back. Negaduck had gone about and beyond to make Spike hate him. From trying to make him into a salad, to "accidentally" setting his roots on fire. There was no particular reason Negaduck fought with the plant, he had no hatred toward Spike. It was just something he wanted to do. It was just the way things were. Negaduck gave himself a mental sigh of relief. Spike was a reminder that he was Negaduck, the biggest asshole in the freakin world. Nothing was going to change that.

The carnivorous plant slithered up and nestled Megavolt’s arms.” What happened boy?” Megavolt asked the plant. Spike’s vine-like arm pointed to a far wall on the other side of the room. Buckets of paint scattered the floor. On the wall was a symbol. It was a red circle outline with a purple stroke. A maroon duck head with one red eye and one blue. A slash of orange paint divided it in half diagonally. “Looks like the geezer clone, made a pitstop here before he attacked us.” Negaduck said, amused that the Darkwing clone took the time to paint this symbol. The clone, like his goody-two-shoes counterpart, shared the same attention-seeking ego.

He looked at the remains of the note he had found. “The fool also left a list of targets and items of interest.” he continued as he shoved the note into Megavolt’s hand. “Killing you is only part of his plan. He had succeeded in his first task in destroying your toy.” Negaduck point to the mangled tron splitter in the center of the room. “He’s also is looking for Eye of Quackzalcoatl, a magical artifact. Unfortunately, the rest of the list has been burned away, so we can’t learn much else.” Negaduck tucked the note into his coat. “Didn’t Drak-Darkwing already destroy the Eye?’ Megavolt asked. “Yeah, but the clone didn’t get the memo.” Negaduck answered.

Negaduck released his Dobermans. They bolted outside the door and disappeared down the hall, their barks echoing throughout the building then faded into silence. "Aw, look at them go," Negaduck said sounding like a proud parent. "I hope they bite pedestrians and maul a few children before they get shot down.”. Spike’s vines tightened around Megavolt’s arms and torso as he held him. The flytrap felt safer that way. “you, never gave them their shots, did you?” Megavolt said a little afraid for anyone that met those monsters. “Never even took them to see a vet.” Negaduck retorted. The trio salvaged what they could then headed back to the Mallard Residence.

  Mallard residence.

4:30 p.m.

  Gosalyn opened the door to her house. The only one there was the Liquidator. He was slumped on the couch in a sitting position, head tilted back and passed out. The wall was fixed and had a fresh coat of paint. “I thought he said he didn’t sleep?” she said aloud quietly. “No, but the mutt seems to like it as a pass time.” A deadpan voice came from behind her. She turned around to see the evil duck enter the house followed by Megavolt trying to free his arms from Spike. Negaduck stared at the child. The last time she saw him, he led a hostile takeover the St. Canard Penitentiary and turned it into his personal playground.

Negaduck eyed the broken device on the table. Gosalyn had shattered it when she had shot it with an arrow. She had a knack for causing chaos everywhere she went, such raw talent was wasted in the service of Darkwing Duck, who wouldn’t even let her fight. “I still stand by what I said at the penitentiary, you’ve always been a bad seed.” Negaduck said in a serious tone, as he put a burnt note on the table with the rest of the clone’s belongings. “You could reach your true potential if you came to work for me, and not have to be held back by your Dipwing father.” Gosalyn tossed her schoolbag the floor in anger and marched up to the Mallard twice her size.

“Thanks, but no thanks. In fact, you can take your offer and- “. She colorfully told where he could stick his proposal, causing Megavolt to put himself between the two if Negaduck tried to do anything, but to their astonishment, Negaduck smirked and shrugged. "My offer still stands." He said coolly. Negaduck turned his attention to table cover in the various item obtained from the clone. Gosalyn watch as Megavolt hurried after his leader. She could not understand why any of his men followed him at all. He treats them horribly, and the majority of them could easily tear him to shreds. The dog on the couch murmured something inaudible. “Was he dreaming?” she thought herself.

Negaduck picked up the trench coat. It was made of dark purple leather and the inside was lined with a yellow-orange fabric in its inside. The coat had no pockets and was rather plain, yet the otherworldly Darkwing was able to pull an arsenal from it. The night he captured him at the warehouse captured the first time, they had confiscated his weapons and armor, leaving him only with his clothes and his trench coat. He was able to procure two knives, tear gas, and a chainsaw. His eye flickered.

Negaduck recalled the time he had been reduced to atoms by Megavolt’s tron splitter. He had become an ink-like substance, that imposed his chaotic personality on anyone who touched it. Magica de Spell conducted experiments on it, which eventually led to Negaduck to returning body and soul. One of the experiments was giving an unstable ballplayer, a trench coat that had been tainted by the ink. “One-shot.” Negaduck thought.

Carmichael Q. Anthony was once a rising star in the sport of baseball as a pitcher. However, his fame caused him to down spiral. He developed a severe case O.C.D and felt compelled to never make the same pitch twice. It got to the point where he threw everything but the ball. The monkey was eventually suspended after throwing a puppy at the batter. De Spell gifted him a coat that acted as an endless supply of things to throw, some of which were deadly. From that point on, Anthony did her bidding under the influence of the ink, and gain a reputation under the name One-Shot.

Negaduck held the coat lengthwise and put his hand it, disappearing into the fabric. "I wonder," he said aloud. He searched around the fabric, until his hand wrapped around a metal handle. He pulled out a large claymore, it was way larger coat itself. Megavolt jumped at the sight of it. “So that’s how he did it,” said Negaduck mildly impressed. “He must have nicked this beauty off of One-Shot and used it as his personal arsenal”. Megavolt gave him a confused look. “I thought Darkwing burned it because of its dark magic.” He stated. Negaduck put the trench coat back on the table and tossed the sword aside. “True,” Negaduck responded. “We have to remember, that the geezer clone came from another dimension. He might have got it from another unfortunate baseball-playing monkey."

Megavolt turned his attention to the shattered device. "That is one mystery solve, but what about this," he said directing Negaduck's attention. Negaduck stared at the pile of loose wire and broken grey and green metal. He hadn't the foggiest idea of what to make of it. The John Duck lost its mind after Gosalyn shot it. Gosalyn made her way over to the table, her curiosity getting the better of her. “Hey, I think these wires go together.” Said Megavolt as he reached to put them together. “Uncle Elmo,” Gosalyn said sounding a little worried. “We don’t know what that thing does, we probably shouldn’t- “. It was too late. The small device sparked to life and the green metal began to glow.

Boom. The device of the leaped off the table with energy. Blue lighting came bursting out of it, items in the house were flung around with a violent force as it did so. The lightning formed a distorted circle above. Negaduck recognized immediately what it was, he had seen one since he got cut off from the Negaverse. It was a warp hole. The clone was carrying around technology that could rival S.H.U.S.H. It explained how the clone was able to follow the train undetected; he was jumping through warp holes.

The warp hole was growing unstable, it pulsed and cracked as it began to suck in everything in its proximity. Gosalyn was swept off her and was pulled toward the portal. To everyone's surprise, including his own, Negaduck grabbed the child and tucked her his arm. He used the other to hold on the couch, so he would get pulled in. “Sparky!” Negaduck roared. “Turn it off!!”. Megavolt, who was hugging the table leg, reached for the device to force it to shut done but instead knocked to further down the table by accident. "You idiot!" Negaduck roared in a rage.

A large icy mallet smashed the unstable device. It cracked and popped before it went dead. Smoke rose from under the Liquidator's hammer-like hand and the warp hole vanished. The disturbance had woken him up, the living area was a mess again, he was sure Darkwing was going blame him for it. The front door opened. Drake mallard enter, having had shed his purple uniform and spoke before he saw the living room. “Consider yourselves of the hook,” he said in a tired voice. “So please, for the sake of peace, don’t-“ his eyes fell on the scene that was once was his living room.

It was like a tornado had struck, walls were torn, furniture and appliances toppled over. Megavolt, and apparently Spike, were holding on the table leg as it were the safest place to be. Gosalyn was tucked protectively in Negaduck's arm, and Liquidator was on the table, his hand formed into a mallet. A part of the attic floor finally gave way and crashed on what was left of the coffee table. “Do I want to know who or what caused this?” Darkwing asked as calmly as he could.

The Liquidator reduced his hand to normal size to reveal the broken device, and then the lot of them pointed at Megavolt, who was still hugging the table. Darkwing took a moment to compose himself.” I got a call from Launchpad; the clone has woken up.” He said as he snatched Gosalyn from Negaduck and glowered at him. “Let’s see if he is more willing to talk now.”

 Later…

 “No, I am not wearing it.” Negaduck said stubbornly when Darkwing handed him the blindfold. “I will not allow myself to guided like a blind man, by you especially." Negaduck and Darkwing have already gotten in back into their uniforms. 'It's bad enough you know where I live, the last thing I need is for you to learn where I work." Darkwing argued. They had been at it for the last 30 minutes. Gosalyn sat next to the Liquidator on the couch, both were growing impatient with the bickering doppelgängers. Megavolt and Liquidator had already agreed to be blindfolded, it didn't matter to them much, though it would be nice to know where Darkwing's hideout in the future. Megavolt and Spike had already left with Launchpad, who had come by to pick the evidence they had gathered.

"Look," Darkwing yelled, starting to lose his patience with his yellow clan double. "The only way for us to continue the case is to question the clone himself. We had to take him to the tower for treatment, thanks to you, and we are not going to risk removing him from there. So, you either put on the blindfold and go with us, or you can stay here, frankly, I'm hoping for the ladder." Negaduck went silent for a moment, then he snatched the blindfold out of Darkwing's hand and placed himself on the couch next to Liquidator, defeated.

Gosalyn watched her father rub his eyes. He seemed tired, more than usual. According to the Liquidator, he was the last one to get back to the house today. It had been a while since he went to S.H.U.S.H. on his own, and not because of J. Gander. Hooter summoned him for a job. Gosalyn turner her gaze to the Aquatic dog next to her. His eyes have been locked on Darkwing since he got here.

"Gosalyn," Darkwing said grabbing her attention. She faced her father; they had not spoken since this morning. "I want you to know, that what you did this morning was incredibly dangerous, he could have killed you and you are very lucky." His arms were crossed and he was waving his finger at her, it was an indication of an impending lecture. Gosalyn braced for the yelling. "Young lady….," He began. "That was the bravest and selfless thing I have ever seen, and I have never been so proud of you.".

Gosalyn opened her eyes, her father smiled warmly at her. Out of relief of gaining his approval, the red-haired girl jumped off the couch, and into her father's arms who hugged her back. "Now, don't get me wrong, you're still grounded till your 30!" he said in a fake stern tone. He handed her bow, he had confiscated it from her this morning, with its quiver full of arrows. "You can have this back, but you only if you're going to use it from a distance, as it was intended to be used. Right?” his tone turning serious. The little daredevil looked him dead in the eye. "You can count on me!" she said with determination, yet both father and daughter knew she made no promises.

"Aww…" the Liquidator said forgetting that he for a moment that he was ever angry with Darkwing. Negaduck pointed his finger to his mouth and made a gagging noise. There were times when the Liquidator swore Negaduck had the maturity of a 14-year-old boy. The pair ignored the peanut gallery on their couch. Nothing going to ruin the moment. Negaduck sat up and spoke so only his hound could hear.

“Truce states that we can’t harm the geezer clone and he is going to jail.” He stated. “But I beg a differ. That duck is going to die tonight, he has escaped death by my hand one too many times, I am not going to sit here and let him breathe for another day.” Negaduck was shaking slightly, he hated not leaving a job unfinished and transgressors unpunished. “When He has given what we want as far as answers, I gonna kill him,” he said in hostel tone. “However, Dorkwing is probably aware of my intentions and will be keeping a very close watch on me. “

If I can’t get near him, I want you to put him down. Darkwing can defend the geezer from me and the others, but not from you." The liquidator nodded in agreement. He may not always do so, but the clone still had to answer for the attack at the warehouse. Besides the hound never disobeyed an order from Negaduck and always came through. There were times, though he won't admit it, Negaduck considered the Liquidator to be his right hand. It has always been this way since the formation of the Fearsome 5. Since that day……...

  /-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

  All he could see was him as his body sank to the bottom of the vat of contaminated water. Budd's body hit the bottom of the vial container of his own making. Darkwing was just standing there, just staring at him. The Masked Mallard disappeared from the water's edge and left the hound to his fate. Budd Flood watched the last of his oxygen leave him as it bubbled up to the surface, and he waited for oblivion. However, it wasn't the end of the hound. He found himself alive, somehow, but his body filled the container of his would-be grave.  

After a while, a liquid hand reached out of the vat. Flood pulled his aquatic body out of the vat and fell forming a puddle. “This is my life now.” He thought. Darkwing has no doubt had reported him to the police about his sabotage of competing water company. He was ruined, not to mention was no longer made of flesh. It was his fault, and he was going to make him pay. It took 3 days, but the determined hound learned to control his newfound power. He was no longer Budd Flood; he was the Liquidator.

  -----several weeks later.

  The Liquidator’s head plowed out of the water, and he rested his upper body on a ledge above the water. He was somewhere in the sewers of St. Canard. Darkwing had beaten him again, no matter how much stronger Liquidator was compared the duck. It infuriated him. "Sounds like you’re up shit creek…. Literally” a foul voice said a few feet away. Liquidator looked up to see a mallard. If it weren’t for his canine instinct, he would have thought it was Darkwing coming down to taunt him. However, this guy wore a yellow-orange version of the Masked Mallard’s uniform and his face was full of malice.

Negaduck knelt to the dog's eye level smirking a toothy grin. The liquidator snarled like a dog backed in a corner, he didn't know who this Darkwing look-alike was, but he sensed danger from his presence. "What's the matter?" the duck asked. 'Do l remind you of the one who did this to you? Did Darkwing beat you with a simple kitchen sponge?". The Liquidator extended his body and pinned Negaduck against a brick wall. Half his body was still in the water. "Who are you?" Liquidator demanded. "Names, Negaduck," he said. "I might look like the Purple Blunder, but besides that, we are nothing alike, morally anyway”. The Liquidator glowered at Negaduck, there was something not right. “What do you want?” the hound asked.

Negaduck was still smirking, not caring for the danger he was in. "You're, not the only one with a bone to pick with Darkwing Duck," he spoke in a calm tone. "What if I told you, I was putting together a team of like-minded individuals, who want nothing more to lay waste to St. Canard, robbing banks, burning down a building, etc., and kill Darkwing to boot." Liquidator loosened his grip but didn't let go. He was a crooked businessman, but he drew the line at terrorism. Negaduck continued. "I've heard reports of a monster in the waters of St. Canard. How he came to be." He laughed. "Yet is defeated by a clad purple duck, despite his power in hydrokinesis.". The liquidator growled. "Get to the point." The hound said, he hated long-winded pitches when someone was trying to sell him something.

"I offer you an opportunity," Negaduck answered. "Your power alone can only get you so far, it needs a guiding hand. I can provide that, especially against Darkwing Duck. All that I ask is that join me in my crew of misfits.". The Liquidator released his hold on duck and reformed to stand on the ledge. "I don't need your help to kill the Masked Mallard," Liquidator barked. "Oh really?" Negaduck responded sarcastically." How many times have you ended down here, because he forced you down a pipe? How many more times are you going to have to sit someone's yard, collecting pigeon shit, because he turned you into a statue? How long will it take for you to realize, that you can't beat him, at least not on your own." The Liquidator's body began to boil in rage.

“And what makes you think you can help me? What’s in it for you?” the hound demanded. He was from a world of commerce and dirty business, there was always a catch. Negaduck didn’t flinch a muscle as the Liquidator released him and flooded around him. “Simple really,” Negaduck said his smirk disappearing leaving his face without expression.” I want to make my goody-two-shoes clone suffer, then when I am bored with him, I’ll kill him.” Negaduck paused for a moment. “He is everything I hate in the world, then some. His mere existents makes my blood boil." Negaduck turned his attention to the hound. "However," he said as if he was forcing himself to talk. "I can't do it alone, just like you. So, I am assembling a team of people to raise hell on St. Canard, who has a personal vendetta against Darkwing Duck, and I require a hound."  

The Liquidator's body began cool off from its high temperature, and steam rose with a hiss. Once the steam dissipated, a normal size dog appeared in a watery form. The liquidator stood in front of the Mallard, easily towering him. "Do we have a deal?" Negaduck asked sticking his hand out. Ignoring every instinct that shouted at him to refuse the duck's offer, to stay behind the line he drew for himself, he shook the hand of a devil. He followed Negaduck into the darkness of the sewer and started his new life as a member of the soon to be Fearsome 5.

  Later that same day…...

  Negaduck pushed open an iron door. "Welcome to your new quarters." Negaduck said as he entered the building. He had explained that it was once a factory but was shut down because it failed inspection. It mostly made and sold candy. "Don't make yourself at home Mutty Water, we might move out soon if I can't the smell of chocolate out of the walls." Negaduck had come up with a list of insulting nicknames for the hound as they traveled to the factory. Liquidator wonder if the foul duck did this to everyone he met. No matter. The Liquidator didn't come along with him to be his friend. It was his new mission to kill Darkwing duck, even if it meant being loyal to a psychopath.

Something scurried across the floor and planted itself in front of Negaduck. It was a mutated venus flytrap about a couple of feet tall. It growled aggressively at Negaduck. Negaduck glowered at the bold house plant, then kicked square across the room. The plant hit a cabinet and bounced on to the floor. It pulled itself up whimpering. Negaduck continued on his way without a care. With one final hiss at Negaduck, it retreated down the hall. The Liquidator followed it out of curiosity. The flytrap led him to a small room with no windows and cover in plants. Due to the lack of sunlight, they were undernourished and turning brown, yet everything was in bloom.  

A hand reached out from under a nearby desk and grabbed his ankle. The sudden motion almost gave him a heart attack. "Is he out there?" asked a timid voice from under the table. The hound looked under the desk, and saw what he could only assume was the owner of the flytrap. It was duck/plant hybrid, cowering under the desk. Negaduck had said that he had already recruited someone else, who had suffered at Darkwing's hand. A botanist by the name of Bushroot. He like the Liquidator had gone under an untraversable mutation. Bushroot was in a fetal position, he had angered Negaduck that morning and was hiding from his chainsaw. The hound knelt so he was partly under the desk. He now had another mission in life, other than ridding of Darkwing. "No," the liquidator said calmly and reach out his paw. "But I am."

 /-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/

Negaduck and the Liquidator finally had been blindfolded. Gosalyn took the Liquidator and guided him to one of the chairs and sat him in one. She proceeded to sit in the next chair over and pressed the button on the mouse statue. They disappeared into the floor. Negaduck and Darkwing followed suit. His house was now empty, the only evidence that something was there was a destroyed ceiling and broken furniture.

Chapter 5

https://masked-mallards.tumblr.com/post/190704477979/masked-mallards-the-multiverse-and-everything

Chapter 3

https://masked-mallards.tumblr.com/post/190654237374/masked-mallards-the-multiverse-and-everything

Chapter1

https://masked-mallards.tumblr.com/post/190578269234/masked-mallards-the-multiverse-and-everything

[elisaphoenix13]

A Hasty Onset

Peter felt awful. His stomach hurt, the thought of food made him more nauseous than he already was, and he undoubtedly had a fever. When the bell rang for lunch, he barely made it to the bathroom to vomit, and that only made the pain in his stomach worse. This wasn't something he could tough out until school was over. Even his spider senses were trying to warm him that something was wrong. He needed to call his parents.

The teen whimpers in pain as just the slight movement to dig through his pocket hurts him even more, and his vision begins to swim. He shakes his head in an attempt to clear it as he scrolls through his contacts but drops his cell when the bathroom door slams open. Peter holds back tears as he fights through the pain to reach for the phone that had slid away, and that was the last thing he remembered before blacking out.

_______________

Peter woke to persistent beeping and a hand gently tightens around his when he groans.

"Mum...turn off the alarm."

A relieved chuckle meets his ears and Peter slowly opens his eyes when another hand brushes his hair back away from his head. Brown eyes are the first thing he sees and he furrows his eyebrows in confusion. Wait...wasn't he at school? What was Tony doing at his school? He remembered the pain but that was gone now. Maybe he was taken to the nurse's office after he passed out in the bathroom.

" 'm fine. You didn't need to come. Pro'bly just the flu." Peter slurs.

Tony opens his mouth but the next words don't come from him. "That was not the flu. That was appendicitis." Stephen says from his left and Peter rolls his head to look at him. "Why didn't you say anything?"

Before he left for school? He was fine. If he wasn't, Stephen would have known in a heartbeat so he was probably kicking himself for not noticing that Peter wasn't well. The symptoms came on all at once during his second class so Stephen couldn't have known.

"I felt fine before school." At Tony's skeptical look he frowns. "I swear."

"How come I didn't get an alert from Karen?" Tony demands. "Why did I get a call from your school that you were taken to the hospital?!"

Peter shrinks against his pillow and the monitor by the bed starts beeping faster, causing Stephen to stand and lay a hand on his husband's shoulder. "Tony."

The engineer pulls his hand away and covers his mouth. "Pete...that scared the shit out of me. I had no idea what was going on."

"I was trying to call..." Peter whispers.

Stephen nods. "We know. You were found by a student and he said you were reaching for your phone when you passed out."

Peter nods. He remembered that much.

Now that he was more aware, the teen realized  where he was, and the heart monitor spiked again. He was at the hospital. There were two reasons why that wasn't okay. One, he hated them, and second, he was Spiderman. He had enhanced healing and it was going to raise questions when he healed a lot faster than people usually do, and he was afraid that the doctors took some blood that was probably lying around right now.

"Nonononono! I can't be here! They'll know!" The teen starts to scratch at his IV until Stephen stops him.

"Peter, calm down. I took care of it. We're lucky Christine was working today."

The teen looks up at the sorcerer. "Who's Christine?"

"That would be me." Christine walks into the room with a file in her hand and stands by the monitors to jot down the teen's vitals before turning to him with a smile. "So you're Peter. It's nice to finally meet you." She gives Stephen a look and he ignores it. "It would have been nicer if Stephen brought you like he promised instead of the ambulance."

"Uhh..." Peter replies dumbly. He swore she looked familiar but he couldn't quite place it.

Tony raises an eyebrow at the two doctors. "When did you promise this?"

"I didn't promise anything. I told her I would consider it." Stephen replies flatly. 

"Answer the question babe."

The sorcerer rolls his eyes. "We ran into each other when Peter was a baby the first time."

If it were a physical analogy, a lightbulb would have lit above Peter's head, and he sits up at the memory in excitement. "You're the lady from the store! Ow!" Peter winces at the pain that stabs his side and Tony pushes him back down after raising the head if the bed.

"Easy Underoos. Even your enhanced healing hasn't kicked in yet."

"You remember me?" Christine asks.

"Yeah. Mom ratted me out."

"You can trust her." Stephen sighs. "Besides, you were hanging onto me by your fingertips. I had to explain."

They all conversed for another twenty minutes until Peter's eyelids started to droop and the teen snaps them back open every few minutes. Tony snickers at Peter's growing failure to keep his eyes open, and looks over at Stephen.

"The baby needs a nap."

"Not a...baby..." Peter mumbles.

Christine gently pats Stephen's shoulder. "I need to get back to work anyway. I'll get him released to you guys and you should be able to take him home tonight."

"How does that sound Petey-pie?" Tony asks. "Rather be at the med-bay? Bruce and Mama Bear will take care of you."

Peter nods sluggishly. "Wanna go home."

Christine sniggers. "Mama Bear?"

Stephen groans and Peter smiles as he finally drops off into sleep again.

___________________

When the teen wakes up again, it was to the familiar sound of a heart monitor, but his surroundings were different. He recognized where he was right away though. He was in the med-bay, the tv was playing some show he didn't recognize, and when he looked to his left, he found Tony sitting in a chair working on a Starkpad. Bruce and Stephen were nowhere to be found.

"What time is it?" Peter croaks out.

Tony looks up from his tablet and immediately stands to grab a nearby glass of water and hands it to Peter. "Slowly." The teens fights the urge to drain the glass in gulps once he realizes how thirsty he is and looks up at his father as he waits for an answer. "It's early bud. You just missed Mom. It's my shift."

Peter relinquishes the empty glass to Tony who sets it aside. "How long do I have to be here?"

"Bruce says your healing factor is doing it's job so you can probably go back upstairs as early as tomorrow morning."

"Ugh. Still sucks."

"How are feeling?" The billionaire asks softly.

"A lot better than yesterday."

"Good. Wanna tell me why I found your nanotech on your desk in your room?"

Peter shrugs. "Something got loose so I was fixing it. I forgot to put it back on because dinner was ready."

Tony studies him carefully but seems to accept the explanation."...alright. Think you could eat something?"

"I would drink DUM-E's oil smoothies."

"Yeah...let's get you something a little healthier  than that."

Tony hands him the remote before leaving the room to get Peter something to eat and the teen puts on a movie. He could use a laugh after what he went through but he was afraid laughing was going to hurt so opted to at least put on a comedy he had seen before. Once the movie starts, he settles back into his pillow and happens to look to the other side of his bed and nearly screams when he finds Stephen's astral form floating by the bed.

"HOLY CRAP! DON'T DO THAT!" Peter shouts and Stephen winces.

"Sorry cub. I was just going to pop in and check on you one more time before I fell asleep. I didn't think you would be awake."

Peter holds his hand against his racing heart, the monitor beside his bed beeping in sync. "Jeez, you didn't have to show yourself. I'm okay. You can sleep."

Stephen smiles. "Don't make me send Levi to smack you for sassing me."

"I'm already miserable."

"I'll be in later." The sorcerer chuckles as he disappears.

Peter sighs and returns his attention to his movie, and Tony returns after another ten minutes with a few sandwiches stacked on a plate for the both of them, and sits in his chair. The engineer sets the plate just out of the teens reach and instead hands the boy one.

"I don't want you eating too much and making yourself sick."

"Can you tell Mom not to appear out of nowhere when he astral projects?" Peter asks Tony as he takes a bite and swallows it. "I almost had a heart attack to add to the appendicitis."

"Trust me bud. I've tried. He pulls that shit when I'm in the lab. As of last night, he's almost given me three heart attacks."

"You are old enough for them." Peter whispers.

"Just for that, you don't get a molten lava cake."

"Oh come on! I'm kidding!"

[jinxthequeergirl]

All Monsters Are Human

Edward nygma x reader

Summary: Ed decides to show you how much he cares with a grand gesture that leads to an unpleasant series of events.

I got the idea from a story I once read called "The Dark,scary parts and all" by Danielle pagie (very good story from a very good book)

Warning: murder hinted at abuse

And Jesus it's a lot darker than I intended and probably dosen't make a whole lot of sense

(not my gif!)

~~~~~~~~~

You where always a strange kid. You like monster movies instead of whatever pretty princess movie was playing. Your dad didn't mind though you honestly believed he preferd you want a monster you instead of a Barbie.

When you where old enough to watch real horror movies. Movies like

Friday the 13th, Halloween, Texas chain saw, and scream you had basically studied them. Which your dad also liked you basically taught yourself how to defend yourself.

You also learned how to identify the type of stab wounds and cuts. That's why Lee had you stick around the M.E lab every time you would visit your dad.

"What are you doing here kid?"

Jim looked up at Harvey before looking at You and smiling. "Good to see you too dad. I come with Lunch!" You said tossing a Brown paper bag down on there desk with a smile. Harvey took it making room for you to hoist yourself up onto the desk.

"Thank you." he kissed your cheek before rumaging through the bag.

You took the case file from Him examining the pictures as Harvey handed him a sandwich.

You opened your mouth to speak but you phone interrupted you. You checked it, rolled your eyes and tucked it in your pocket turning back to your father.

"If I had to guess I'd say a small knife...scouple type."

"Your guess would be correct miss Bullock." you grinned looking up at the man who sported before you.

"What can I say Ed I have a knack for this stuff!"

He smiled at you. Ed and you had always gotten along ever since you convinced Harvey to let you visit every so offten. And it was extreamily obvious he was almost in love with you from the moment you met. Harvey groaned from behind you and turned to Jim. "My grandchildren are going to be some weird mix of riddle telling horror freaks aren't they?" Jim chuckled. Chowing down on his lunch as you continued to gush over the latest case. Your father cleared his throat loudly catching both your attention.

"Ed why don't you just take (y/n) to the lab and geek out about it there I'm eating!" you hopped off the desk and grabbed eds hand. "C'mon Ed..Man does nothing but work around death and can't handle a little talk." you teased before walking away hand in hand with Ed.

He looked down at your hand intertwined with his and practically melted.

There was another thing you liked about monsters. Classic monsters more so. They wanted love and that made them increadible human to you.

That was always your debate when talking about movies. That was always something that made you love Horror more. Edward found that fascinating. The fact that you could find a completely human thing in a non human being was increadible beautiful.

He looked at you from across the room as you examined the body with curiosity with a smile.

"How many-"

"Eight" you glanced up at him with smirk.

"Find any-"

"None."

Your phone buzzed to to life drawing you from your studie. Ed studied how your face turned to disgust and annoyance. "Anything wrong?"

"Uh no just that guy again...wont stop bothering me..." you sat your phone down in the counter and went back to the body After shaking away your clearly frightened look.

Ed knew about this guy two weeks now he would stop bothering you. And it clearly scared you. Every time you would check your phone your face would grow pale and your brows would furrow.

"Hey why don't we take a break?" you smiled. "Sure...I could go for some coffee anyways..." you pulled your gloves and apron off before heading out the door. "Coming?"

"Yes of course one moment I'll be right out!" He made sure you where far down the hall before grabbing your phone and looking at the number and name of the man and Writing it down.

He also scanned through the messages. Text upon text of you reapeadedly telling this man to get lost or leave you alone but he kept returning even making threats towards you at some point.

He scowled deleting the number and heading out of the lab to meet you. "I believe you forgot this." you smiled up at him taking your phone and placing it in your pocket. "Thanks Ed. So I was thinking we could-"

"Are you free tomorrow night?" he asked suddenly stopping you mid scentence. "Oh uh yea...yea I am.why?"

"How does dinner and a movie sound? I'll pick you up at around nine?"

A small smile slowly spread across your face. You'd be damned Edward Nygma was actually asking you on a date.

"Sounds like a plan!"

He smiled and turned back to go to his office.

The night of ed was a complet gentlemen. He took you to your favioret restaurant and a showing of your favioret movie. He was also completely charming and if he could have made you fall for him more And to top it all off.

"I have a surprise for you!"

"Oh ed you didn't have to-"

He waved his free hand. "I know! I know but I think you are going to like this!" you squeezed the his hand that you held and grinned brightly. "Alright."

"C'mon!" He happily pulled you behind him leading you down the street. Once you got to what you assumed was his apartment he stopped you on the front step and covered your eyes.

"Now no peeking!" you giggled and squeezed your eyes shut as you let him guied you through the building. You head a door open before shutting behind you again. "Now wait right here!"

"Can I open my eyes yet?" you asked anxiously. "Not yet..." you heard the sound of a chair dragging across the floor and what seemed to be muffled cries. "Ed what-" you opened your eyes to find the man who worried you so much tied to a chair with a now on top of his head. "Suprise!"

You gasped and held a hand to your mouth. "John!?.. Ed what...what did you do?..."

He smiled and made his way to you placing a hand on each of your shoulders leading you to stand in front of him.

The man in front of you was bloody and beaten. Just like you where before you broke up with him. You looked at him in fear,shock anger and hate all boiling in the pit of your stomach. He had done awful things to you and threatened you oh so many times. It seemed as though Ed was just returning a favor.

And he wanted you to finish the job.

You now stood in front of him with an expressionless look. He yelled at you through the cloth around his mouth but it was inaudible.

"Why Ed?" you asked not taking your eyes off the man in the bow. He had moved behind him picking something up from the table beside him and grined.

"I can start a war or end one, give you the strength of a thousand men or leave you powerless I can be snared with a single glance but no fource can convince me to stay. What am I?" you looked up at him as he made his way back to you.

"Love (y/n). Love made me do it." he leaned down and kissed you softly. You sighed melting into the kiss not realizing he placed something in your hands.

"All I had to do was find him for you! Now here he is!" you looked down at your hands to find a shiny kitchen knife. You glanced at your reflection a twisted smile pulling at the corner of your lips.

You stepped forward holding the knife high above the man ready to bring it down on him but instead twirled it in your hand and hit ed across the face with the handle and slashed the man free from his chair.

"You're a monster Ed!" you pulled him from the chair and hurried to the door while he was still down. "C'mon John!" you yanked and pulled him along side you but he moved just barely. "Oh come on (y/n)! You love monsters!" He growled sitting up.

"No Ed you are the worst of the worst!"

He laughed. "Is he really any better than me? C'mon (y/n) you let that man go free and he'll be after you all over again...maybe worse this time."

He was half dead in your arms but he was right. Once John was back on his feet he would hunt you down and kill you himself. But that didn't change what Ed was attempting.

You pulled the door open seeing as Ed made no attempts to stop you.

He smirked pushing himself up into his elbows.

"The most human thing about monsters is there desire for love."

You froze.

"And do you think he really loved you?"

You looked down at the man you attempted to carry. And remembered what had happened the night you had a conversation with the man at the bar.

"At least what I did for you here was affectionate! He beat you for even doing anything he didn't approve of.."

Upon him saying that he could see the last human part of you snap. The part that wanted to do the right thing the part that wanted to save him.

Your grip tightened around the handle of the knife as you shut the door. "(y/n) What are you doing?" John looked up at you weakly and worriedly.

"He's right!"

You turned to Ed pulling John up and holding the knife to his throat.

"All monsters are human in there own way..."

"(y/n) don't...don't do this!" you pressed it closer to his throat. "They all want something we want have the same feelings we want."

"(y/-" you slowly dragged it across his throat. "Acceptance...Revenge!..."

On the last word you pulled the knife straight across his neck causing him to choke on his own blood And dropped him to the floor looking at Ed.

"Love..." You made your way across the room dropped the knife and fell to your knees besides him and kissed him deeply.

[trulycertain]

pattern recognition

Time for 3.5k of character study! I guess this is kind of a companion piece to Proprioception, but it stands on its own. This one is all Pritchard and slow enemies-to-friends stuff. (Also on AO3.)

 Jensen’s still comatose. He’s the lucky one.

He hasn’t had to watch cleaners sift through broken glass and pray they’ve already got all the blood, even while some morbid fascination pushes you to look for it, to watch for the evidence of your coworkers and their last moments. Evidence they existed at all. Frank walks past windows and workspaces and mentally labels each; for all he was mocked for being a shut-in, he remembers each and every name. He has that sort of brain. Pattern recognition. He used to brag about it in hackerspaces, but it feels like more of a curse, now.

Jensen hasn’t had to walk through empty labs and abandoned desks, feeling the spaces. He hasn’t had to walk through rooms full of death and know that Jensen could have prevented it, wasn’t that his fucking job?

They should have had Belltower. They needed Belltower, not one jumped-up ex-cop who thought he could be a SWAT team on his own. That arrogance damn near cost him his life. Instead it just cost everyone else’s.

Sometime around Monday, when the cleaners are finishing up, Sarif starts knocking. He doesn’t usually bother, just strolls in as a reminder he owns the place, leans an elbow on Frank’s desk and starts talking at him like they’re friends in a bar somewhere. As if tech security’s less important than the latest jam in the coffee machines or the fact Eileen’s had a baby, isn’t that nice - until he gets to what he actually wants. There’s always another favour.

When the knocking starts, Frank realises how he must look, how snappish he must be. He catches one of the technicians in the canteen muttering about Stay out of the blast radius, Pritchard’s even further up his own ass than usual and watches the silence fall abruptly as they spot him.

But Sarif’s worse. Concealer can’t entirely cover up the eyebags, and he’s all manic focus, running hands through his hair and pacing as he talks about how Jensen isn’t quite dead, how they found a way; as he asks for the Prometheus specs and talks about how this can’t happen again and why the hell couldn’t his staff defend themselves...

He’s wild-eyed and unsteady round the edges, and Frank actually pauses and looks up from reams of code. Sarif’s never been like this before. Maybe when he’s just had an idea for a prototype and he’s buzzing, ready to start on blueprints, but… not like this. Not with this edge of panic, this white-knuckled fear to it. There have always been jokes about Sarif’s obsession with his tech, but this is something else. This feels like a sickness.

And then the visits stop, and that’s how Frank knows David’s down at the LIMB clinic. With Jensen.

After the surgery, when Jensen’s still not dead and clinging onto life as stubbornly as he does everything else, the mania fades. David edges in like Frank’s a cornered animal, actually pausing to let him speak once in a while. Frank hates every minute of it.

A week later, there’s a soft knock on his door. Frank looks up and sighs, waiting for the hedging and the edging away.

It’s not Sarif. It’s Athene.

Something must have happened. He doesn’t know, he’s had his head in the firewalls for the past three days, because there was an anomaly and God don’t let it have been something he missed, something that could have prevented it…

Athene puts her head around the door of the tech lab, after another half-hearted knock. There’s something in her hand, and she raises it. “Are you signing?”

“Signing what?” He looks distractedly back to his monitor. Sure, it’s yet another card, but Ramirez hasn’t woken up yet and… Then he gets it. He grinds his teeth. “Oh. He made it, did he?”

“It was a close call. You don’t know how close.”

Actually, he spent two days without sleep in front of flickering screens, waiting on news and to see if any short-notice specs needed to be delivered, because if these augmentations couldn’t do something to save people then what was the point of them. When it came through, the fact Jensen was one of the few people down there not DOA? It just seemed like cruel irony.

“Frank - “

“No. Ask someone who actually cares.”

“You’ll regret it, you know. He’s in a lot of pain.” Athene’s voice is soft. Sometimes she reminds him of the school nurse he had when he was young, the one everyone actually liked; that calculated gentleness, that careful, I’m not judging you but everyone else will, and she thinks he can’t see through it but he’s sat through this kind of thing enough times. (We know it was a misunderstanding. Just give us the account details. You couldn’t really have emptied out the bonds.)

He tsks and looks back to his keyboard. “He’s alive, isn’t he? It’s better than some.”

“He’s not conscious yet, and he’s probably going to be scared when he wakes up. He doesn't know about Megan, and that’s… I don’t envy him."

"He wouldn't have to know if he hadn't gotten her killed."

"You know how the patients get sometimes, if it’s their first time...”

Franks drinks cold greyish coffee so he doesn’t have to look at her. “He knows the augs. He watched M – Reed build them.”

Athene sighs. “Have it your own way. But David thinks it’s a shame, you know.”

“Sarif can think what he likes. This isn’t in my job description.” He signed up to work up for a corporation, not “one big happy family.”

There’s another pause, a wave of silence at the doorway that always comes before something he won’t like. Athene says, too softly, “Frank, dear. Have you looked into the counselling? It’s only once every couple weeks, there’s...”

He swallows and looks at a screen, because it’s safer than looking into her eyes. “I can’t afford to lose the time. Some of us are too damn busy to wallow.” He pauses and says, more quietly, “Have you? I’ve barely seen you leave your desk since it happened.”

“I’ll be all right, Frank. It's not me you should be worrying about.” Another sigh, somehow more judgemental than the last, and then Athene gives up on him. Good.

He runs back over the list of the casualties, the dead and the injured. After a while, the names start blurring until he has no idea who’s who. That shouldn’t feel like a relief.

    Jensen’s still an asshole. That, at least, is reassuring. There are tales of scared nurses and Jensen taking chunks out of concrete, ones Frank’s not meant to have heard, and when Jensen comes back…

He skulks back. Glowers in the corner of Frank’s office like a deeply unwelcome gargoyle and practically snarls at anyone who dares to ask him about the augs. He’s always been touchy and overly defensive, but this is different. He won’t even look at anyone, just keeps the shades practically… well, welded to his face. As if he no longer deigns to interact with the mere mortals.

Frank sees the new eyes once, when he’s adjusting the retinal systems and integrating the HUD, doing a few last-second checks before Sarif sends out his shiny new guard dog. He blinks when the shields slide back, and then swiftly hides it and starts to work.

Somehow he’d expected narrowed blue eyes. The same old glare. Or maybe that Sarif would have tried to design something close…

No. They’re less human than some of the augs SI makes. More reflective, and a bright acid-green, golder at the edges. Entirely inhuman. Excessive, some might say.

Also out of sync. Which is why Jensen’s dragged himself into Frank’s office. Fix me, Pritchard. Piss off, Pritchard.

When they narrow in pain and Jensen clutches his head, Frank realises that the coldness wasn’t the augs. Jensen blinks and swiftly shuts it all away with a grunt. And Frank realises that even if Adam’s eyes were still human, they’d be empty. As if he doesn’t goddamn care about any of this. He’d probably rather be at home, eating cheese balls and taking the last of his sick leave…

He’ll realise what it is much later, when he’s realising Jensen’s at the bottom of an ocean, long-dead, and wanted to be.

    Jensen wanders into the canteen after Taggart’s press conference, about to hop yet another VTOL with Faridah. From the bow-legged lope – the cop walk, Frank always thought sourly, but now he wonders – Frank’s starting to suspect the shades are hiding eyebags and a bruise or two. Even the damn hairgel’s starting to sag. Jensen makes straight for the vending machine, with the air that anyone who gets in his way will be Typhooned, and silently stabs in the numbers for something tooth-rotting.

Frank can’t even blame him, after tonight.

The vending machine starts, stalls, and the candy bar refuses to budge. Jensen sighs, sounding resigned and like this is precisely what he expected. He gives it a quiet tap. Another, firmer one, still seeming wary of breaking the damn thing.

Jensen’s quietly picking the vending machine up and tilting it, shaking it slightly like a chip packet, when Frank leans on the wall nearby.

“Pritchard,” Jensen sighs, as if seeing Frank is the icing on a truly awful cake.

He’s probably waiting for some snide comment. It’s an unorthodox use of the arm mods, after all, and Jensen acts as if anyone seeing a moment of humanity is a fate worse than death. But Frank’s too exhausted and too preoccupied.

There’s a plunk as the bar finally drops. Jensen’s eyebrows raise from under the shades with an exhausted sort of hope, and then he carefully lowers the vending machine and springs down to grab it.

Frank’s on his twenty-second hour without sleep, and he knows Jensen’s been taking valuable time to trail down back alleys and sneak past rioting mobs and poke into apartments just to understand. Besides - he ascertains after glancing around – they’re alone here. It’s an unholy time of night even for their department.

“That goddamn backdoor,” he hisses. “I knew Sarif was overinvested, but this...” He can’t even finish the sentence.

“He had files on me.” That should have come out with rage, but instead Jensen says it with that quiet matter-of-fact exhaustion again. There’s a quiet sound, and when he turns… Frank looks with surprise into tired green eyes.

“Why on earth – Was this about Mexicantown?”

Jensen shrugs. “Guess he was doing some background checks.” There’s something uneasy in his posture.

Frank has a feeling that’s not the whole truth, but he’s in no mood to pry into Jensen’s personal life; he’s seen enough of it already. “Your… contact is safe. I’ve been keeping tabs, especially with the rioting.”

For the first time, Jensen seems awake. He opens his mouth. Closes it again. “...Thanks.”

Frank waves a hand. “But I told him, you leave a door ajar and someone else can open it, I told him so many damn times...”

“I’ve always said the same thing.” The slightest tilt of the lips. A genuine smile, from Adam Jensen. The world must be ending. “He thinks we’re both paranoid.”

“We could have prevented this. And he wouldn’t let us.”

Adam ducks his head, and sobers. “Yeah. But I’m gonna find her, and the others. Gonna try, at least. Someone has to.” He swallows. “You on comms?”

“Where else would I be?” Frank starts to walk away. “Don’t get yourself killed, Jensen.”

Jensen snorts, shades sliding back into place. “I’ll do my best, Francis.” Then he shoves a candy bar into his mouth and turns to head to the helipad.

    Frank’s in a crumbling theatre in Detroit when he sees them.

They needed to prepare for the LIMB clinic, and if there’s one thing he’s used to, it’s boredly scraping blueprints and intellicam footage for Jensen. He was looking for security guides, for the cam links, and the file roots didn’t make sense. He thought they purged the footage. Surely, for patient confidentiality, even if they were worried about malpractice suits… The clinics were never his area.

No. They didn’t.

He winces and keeps scrolling through files, ignoring frames and previews. Augs are perfectly ordinary to him, but he doesn’t need to see thousands of surgeries from the greater Detroit area. He almost moves past it.

And then there’s a tilt of the head, something… He spots a familiar beard, under the blood.

So much blood. It’s staining the bandage over Jensen’s eyes, he must have already had the retinal prostheses, it’s on the bandage from where half his skull must’ve got blown off and had to be rebuilt, and it’s all over the flayed augs. Frank frowns. That’s a mark of hasty installation, they’re calibrating nerves on the damn table...

David’s a designer, an engineer, not a surgeon. He almost never worked with trauma patients. Frank thinks of Sarif and thinks of slow, deliberate tweaking and calibrations. He doesn’t think of a man wrist-deep in guts and clearly half-yelling at his surgeons.

That would be enough, but Frank realises with a slow, dawning nausea that Adam must be conscious, on some level. Thrashing, and that isn’t just blood on his face, slipping out from under the makeshift blindfold… Perhaps he still had his natural eyes, then. Frank recognises tears well enough. Why the hell -

Maybe it’s that - looking for an explanation, an excuse, something - that makes him click.

“Keep going, we can’t lose him now.” Sarif sounds exactly as strident as he looked.

“He doesn’t need the arm. We can wait, delay surgery - “ Someone offscreen, with the same sort of desperate horror as Frank feels rising in his gut. Because he has to look, now, and that arm’s clearly beyond saving but the rest… there’s too much blood and he’s not a damn doctor, he’s not certain...

“You don’t know what the hell he needs. He’ll make it through.” Sarif glances back to Adam. “He was made for this. Come on, get the damn laser scope!”

Sarif says something else, but Frank loses the words. Loses all of it except the sound. Because Adam’s screaming. Screaming, and screaming…

He slams the off button hard enough he nearly breaks the keyboard, glancing behind him.

No angry cloaked aug. He has a feeling Jensen wouldn’t just let this go.

He sits, numb, and stares until the monitor blurs. It was easy enough reading the notes, when he thought at least some of it had been elective. When he thought Jensen had asked for all the bells and whistles.

Icarus system, Typhoon, Quiksilver reflex mods, rebreather…

But somewhere along the way… well, he has the sneaking suspicion Jensen didn’t. That wasn’t a man who could choose anything. And the idea that Jensen, of all people, the most stubborn man this side of the Canadian border, might have been overwhelmed or pressured into augs…

Faridah said it. He didn’t want to listen. He still doesn’t want to listen.

Upselling. The word goes through his mind, and then he hates it, and he tries to push it away. Maybe it’s the goddamn caffeine making him paranoid. (You’re always paranoid, Francis, a dry, rough voice says in the back of his head.)

Paranoia or not, he doesn’t go near the cams for a while. He runs over blueprints and any potential robots left, instead. Clinics always used to guard the neuropyzene coolers more heavily than the augs themselves. Even before the Incident, they understood desperation.

He isn’t so much avoiding Jensen as… not having pressing business in the same area. But when he’s on his fourth hour combing through code and he’s in dire need of a piss, he barges into one of the old customer restrooms -

And Jensen’s standing by the sinks, staring steadily into the mirror, shaving away months of grime and overgrown beard.

Frank pauses in the doorway, stupidly.

Adam wets the razor and says, without turning around, “What do you want, Pritchard?” There’s little of its usual bite. He sounds exhausted.

Frank tries not to stare at gold knuckles as Adam cleans up the edges of that fussy little goatee – remembers a set on the table twitching and spasming, trying to respond to pain stimulus while still pinned – and Adam’s ducked head. There must still be so many scars, under that damp hair.

He considers saying something. Jensen would probably punch him if he so much as tried. No, more likely snap something disparaging and then turn tail. And it’s not exactly a conversation he’s excited about having, either.

“Still hogging the bathroom, Jensen?” is all he manages instead.

Adam snorts. “You gonna say something about how my bladder should be augmented?”

Frank swallows. “No.” That’s the last thing he thinks he can say right now. He heads down the row to a stall; he's not dealing with Jensen's very literal dick-measuring. “I’m going to say, prepare for the LIMB job.”

    It’s easier not talking about it, not thinking about it. Jensen is Jensen, the sarcastic asshole who tried to steal his job and kept wandering into his office to try and take him down a peg. (The sarcastic asshole who sank with Panchaea trying to save the world and asked him to look after an elderly woman in a rough neighbourhood because she was “...family.” And who pretended not to water the cactus in his office but did it whenever he was in town, because Megan had given him the thing. And maybe later Frank watered it, too, when Jensen was away for god-knows-how-long and then afterward, when he was at the bottom of the ocean, but… Jensen doesn’t need to know that. Frank just thought the room needed some extra oxygen to counter all the alcohol fumes.)

Not thinking about it does just fine for the rest of the mission, and then Jensen gives him a swift goodbye before being spirited away by INTERPOL. The last conversation they have ends with Jensen passing him a cigarette and actually smiling at him. Amused, but not the smug smirk of their usual conversations. I really owe you one, Pritchard. Frank remembers watching him walk away to the VTOL and Jensen not even turning round but throwing him a jaunty little scout-salute with those custom-built hands, coat flapping ostentatiously. Asshole. It sounded too fond in the privacy of his own head.

Not thinking about it breaks, somewhat, when Sarif calls him.

(He’s no good to me like this, Sarif said while pulling apart skin and squinting through blood, and Frank assumed at the time that just meant half-dead but now he’s starting to wonder. Sarif, who sent Jensen on a mission to the depths of god-knows-where, where he disappeared off the grid for days. And then there’s the damn backdoor he found because Sarif was too busy spying on his employees to consider that someone else could, too. Or the way that Sarif seemed far more focused on retrieving the Typhoon prototypes than his employees. Pattern recognition.)

But Sarif is Sarif, and he smiles and it’s all Fraaank, it’s good to see you, and Frank needs the money. In a week. He tells himself he’ll think about it in a week, when the Blades have had the assets extracted. Besides, what kind of ripper would he be if he passed up a job like that? He’d make history - pseudonymously, of course. It’s almost a duty.

Sarif smiles, and it’s almost… sheepish. “You know there’s only one person we can ask.”

Frank sighs. “He won’t be pleased.”

“He’s Adam. He’ll do the right thing.”

Isn’t that what Sarif always relies upon, the strings he always pulls? Guilt, obligation, the last remains of some kind of twisted fondness.

Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it. It’s one more job, and he needs the money.

He realises his mistake, somewhere in the back of his mind, when he finally vidcalls Jensen.

The annoyed glare he gets for his trouble is comfortably familiar, at least. The body beneath it, however… There are obvious marks of support struts and chassis across Adam’s back. They had the foresight to tuck most of the scar tissue out of sight, but not all. It’s paler against Adam’s already-pale skin, stark. And there are the marks of the Typhoon, the augmentation Jensen always hated – a decision Sarif made for him, and Adam had swiftly started using the non-lethal ammo. There are hints of metal at his hips, and his feet are black and gold Sarif, too. There must be barely any of him left.

Frank should have asked. There was a time to ask. It's probably long-gone by now, and the SI offices are shuttered and dead.

He hides it all away, of course. It’s not the point. A job is a job. “Jensen.”

(He’ll ask, after this. Hunt through the files, pull up the employee contract again... It’s not like he has a lack of time on his hands. But not today.)

“Pritchard.” It’s said flatly, and Jensen nearly downs the whiskey. “I thought I told you never to ping my location again.”

This… This, Frank can do.

Asshole, he thinks. But this time, again, it has just a hint too much fondness in it.

[hogwarts--imagines]

Thing For You Part 2

GIF IS MINE

Summary: Reader is on the run, after she discovers she has powers and has no control over them because she has no control over her emotions and she’s running from authority and anyone who approaches her because she’s scared she’ll hurt them.

Request: No

Warnings: Insults, fighting, mentions of death, mention of sexual assault, other than that no

Part 1 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Bruce’s POV

“Please, I don’t want to hurt you guys.” Her voice cried out. 

It played over and over in my mind. The sound of her pleading for help made me think she was actually innocent. I shook my head trying to forget it.

“We have her in our safe room, no glass, no way for her to get out, unless we let her out” Tony interrupted my thoughts “We have SHIELD agents rotating watch on her door.” 

I nodded my head. I pulled up the results of her blood samples that I took from her earlier. The amount of radiation and unknown substance in her blood should kill her but it didn’t. I was shocked as I realized what this means. I pulled her file to look up who she was and watch she did.

Doctor Y/F/N Y/L/N

Age: 26

Sex: Female

Career: Scientist; studies medicine

There was an article about her lab catching on fire. Reading more into it I found that her lab was doing research on a vile that had the unknown substance in it, the file had it blacked out so I had no way of knowing what it was. continuing on, her supervisor wanted to test it with another vile, also blacked out, and she refused saying it could cause a huge chemical reaction. An unknown scientist had came in wanting the results right away. After she refused to continue, there was an explosion in the next room. Radiation leaking everywhere. Y/N grabbed her files and made her way out. Somehow she didn’t make it out was was found unconscious in the same room of the explosion. That was all?

I slammed the file down on my desk. 

“You okay?” Tony asked moving towards my desk. He looked at the file on my desk 

“It doesn’t add up” I groaned quietly “If this is how she got her ability then why is HYDRA looking for her?” 

“Maybe to run some tests or to try to recruit her.” Tony suggested with a shrug.

I studied her file reading more about her. I read all of the articles she was in that talked about her studies, I even read her lab reports and how she discovered a cure for Ebola. I read about her childhood, about her father being a well known FBI agent, protecting her from the man who came into her room when she was just 10 years old, the man who was suppose to be a good friend. I read how her mother had left when she was 11 and how it was just her and her dad until he passed away 4 years ago. 

“I can’t control it” I heard her voice once again. Realizing how rude I was to her before. I sunk lower into my chair. 

Reader’s POV

I laid on the thin bed that was on the floor. I stared of into space, wishing I could go back in time and stop myself from going to work that day. Rethinking the events that took place. The man with the name of Brad, came into your side of the building causing your supervisor to piratically squirm under his skin and he instantly started bossing me around, trying to force me to mix the chemicals.

“But sir, if we mix it, the chemical reaction could kill us all” I protested, this was the third time this man has come in demanding the same thing. Only this time it took a bigger toll than I expected. withing minutes, I heard a loud boom and the walls shook causing the vile’s to vibrate.

“Do it now” my supervisor demanded. 

“No” I protested again and quickly put the rubber caps on the vile’s and slid them into my pocket and grabbed my files to make my exit.

Brad stopped me from going any further “If you follow my orders and join HYDRA you will be rewarded, only if you comply” He reached into my pockets and took the vile’s. 

“Never” I shouted as I shoved him away. He snatched the file from my hand and shoved me in the room and locked the door. 

‘Jokes on him’ I thought to my self ‘Those were just samples’ I turned around and saw the two bigger vases with the chemicals ‘Oh shit’ 

“Y/N” Someone called out entering my “room” I sat up, pulled my knees closer to my chest. I looked up to see Wanda enter into the room “I didn’t know your size, but I figured you might be cold or just want a change of clothes.” She handed me a sweatshirt and a pair of pants. Seeing as the pants were too big, I quickly switched to the new sweatshirt that was also to big but was more comfortable.

“Thank you” I said in almost a whisper.

“I know the last time we spoke I went digging through your brain, seeing everything you went through.” she came in closer, “I know how it feels to feel trapped in your own mind and to have no idea how to control your powers. Or to feel guilty for something out of your control.” She pulled me into a hug “We don’t want to hurt you, if you let us we will help you.” 

I hugged her back, so tightly, I wanted someone to understand how I felt. I let out a small sob, and she pulled away “I’ll be your new best friend” She gave a small smile and gave a tight squeeze before making her exit. 

--

and hour later I was greeted with a man who I thought was another agent. 

“Follow me miss” He ordered grabbing my before forcing me up.

Bruce’s POV

I checked the camera that was in her cell. I watched as she sat there hugging her knees waiting for someone to come in, unsure of what to do. I watched as she jumped when the door flung open and a man forced her to her feet. Next thing I hear is Tony yelling in my ear piece

“She’s escaping again”

I watched as she struggled to break from his grip. something was wrong. she wasn’t trying to break away from us, she was trying to break away from him.

“I got this one” I called back and ran out of the room

“Bruce don’t” Was the last thing I heard Tony say before I made my way to y/n

Reader’s POV

I struggled to get free but once I did I realized we were standing by an elevator and a flight of stairs. I tried to go back towards my cell but he wouldn’t let me. regaining control of my arm I tried to get away. 

“Let me go” I snapped, I felt myself starting to burn up

“You’re coming with me” He started to make his way toward the stairs, only to see Dr. Bruce Banner standing in his way. 

“I don’t think she wants to leave” He shot the man a warning look, the man pulled me closer pulling a knife to my throat

“Step any closer, she dies” He snapped 

“And you would fail your mission.” Bruce shot back, this caused the man to lower his knife and stabbed me in the stomach. I instantly caught fire, not trying to, but the sudden pain in my stomach caused me to lose it. The man quickly tossed me at Bruce and I fell into him burning him. I quickly fell to the ground as I tried to stop the bleeding.

“I’m giving you one last warning” Bruce called out to the man. 

I managed to calm down enough to not be a raging ball of fire, as I tried to get up and make my way to a safe spot, but was quickly swept off of my feet and heard the sound of glass break, feeling a sudden rush of wind taking my breath away. The man grabbed me and threw me full force at the glass window. Feeling it shatter around me,  I was now falling to my death. I waited for the impact that never came. 

Instead I found myself in the arms of a giant green man who looked a lot like Bruce. once he made impact with the ground, he stood there for a moment shrinking to a smaller size. I was in the Doctors arms being held bridal style as he made his way back into the building. 

“Put me down I can walk” I demanded, but he ignored my request. I felt the sharp pain of my wound and tried to ignore it.

Once we made our way into the elevator, Bruce whispered in my ear “Sweetheart, you burned your clothes off.”

He watched as my face went red from embarrassment “Don’t worry, we won’t see anyone until we get you onto the medical floor, by then you’ll have something to cover yourself with. 

--

So here I was in the same medical room with just Bruce. I laid there with a small blanket covering me as he stitched me up.

“Lucky he didn’t hit and artery” he said while finishing up. “wait here” and he left I covered myself again waiting for his return. He tossed a big blue sweater and black sweatpants my way “This will be more comfortable” 

It sat up and pulled the sweater over my head adjusting it so my hands stuck out of the sleeves. It almost went to my knees and I put the sweatpants on and rolled them once at the waist so the fit. I looked up to see the doctor had turned around so that I could get some privacy.  I cleared my throat announcing I was done. 

“They smell like cologne” I gave a small smile taking in the strong smell.

“They’re mine” He smiled back softly. “So don’t burn them please.” He joked.

Tony came barging into the room.

“I thought we agreed, no escaping” He yelled.

“I di-” he cut me off

“I was gonna show you the ropes and maybe you could’ve been one of us dorks. It was gonna be a surprise.”

“Tony, she didn’t escape. Someone pretended to be and agent and tried to force her out and ended up stabbing her and throwing her out the window. I knocked him out and the big buy crushed him and caught y/n” Bruce explained. He said that Steve and Bucky have him tied up in a cell and are personally watching him. 

“Oh good” he sighed in relief “Cause I made you a suit” He said cheerfully and motioned for me to follow him. Bruce wrapped his arms around my waist holding me up carefully to not touch my wound. We made our way to, what I was assuming his lab. On the table I saw the black suit. I studied it carefully.

“You’re missing something” I looked up at Tony and he gave a confused look “I’m not sure what it’s though”

“Well it’s a good thing it’s not done” He stuck his tongue out like a child. 

I leaned closer into Bruce “I need to lay down” I spoke calmly trying not to cry out in pain as the shooting pain continued in my stomach. He picked me up again 

“Please don’t” I protested again, I hated to be carried. All my weight in someone else’s arms made me self conscious

“It’s okay, you’re a small woman, just relax.” He continued walking out of the room.

Next thing I know I’m being placed on a bed and a blanket is being pulled over my body. I moved quickly, unsure of my surrounding.

“Shh it’s okay. You’re in my room, on my bed, I don’t ever use the bed so I figured you could sleep there for tonight.” He rubbed my arm, and I quickly relaxed, knowing I was going to be okay. I allowed myself to drift into sleep.

[queen-of-deans-booty]

Houses of the Holy- Part 2

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 2,283

Warnings: Typical Supernatural violence, angst, language, minor character death, blood, you know the usual

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Supernatural. All credit goes to their respective owners. If you’re a junkie for this sort of thing, then a tag list is the right thing for you! If you want to be a Queen, I’ll add you to that list too! Any and all comments on these are appreciated.

Feedback is the glue that holds my writing together.

Tags at the bottom

Read 'The Time an Angel Visited You’ from my background stories to understand this episode better!

Just like yesterday, Sam had left you and Dean in the room with nothing to do. You knew Sam would be back any minute from doing whatever it is that he was doing since he wouldn’t tell you too much but you couldn’t have sex with Dean.

You couldn’t even go out for something in the vending machine and you were starving. Dean went to go get you something from it but you were sick and tired of being in this hell hole. You’d rather be in actual Hell than sit in this God damn room for one more second.

Dean, seemed to be busy, holding onto a police radio, listing to whatever was going on. You didn’t know where he got that or how he did but you just sat at the table, your legs resting on the table, listening to it.

You’ve listened to woman cop for the past hour, talking about how some guy named Zach stabbed this other guy but you’ve been in and out of paying attention to it.

“We've got a minor TA, involving a motorcycle and a, uh van, this is at the corner of 28th and Pine, 28th and Pine.” The woman on the radio said. Just then, the door opened and Sam walked in with a bag of food that he promised to give you. You grinned and took the bag, the food being more important right now.

“Hey, did you bring more quarters?” Dean asked, his eyes lighting up at the thought of being on a vibrating bed.

“Dude, no, I am not investing in your sick habit.” Sam said, sitting at the table while you happily ate your food. Sam tossed a sandwich at Dean after sitting. “You're like one of those lab rats that pushes the pleasure button instead of the food button until it dies.”

“What are you talking about? I eat and I got news.” Dean said, talking about the police scanner.

“So do I.”

“Alright, you go first.” Dean said, eating his sandwich.

“Three students have disappeared off the college campus in the last year. All of them were last seen at the library where Carl worked.” Sam started.

“Sick bastard.” You said with your mouth full. Sam looked at you and grimaced but turned back to Dean.

“So, Gloria’s Angel…”

“Angel?” Dean interrupted Sam.

“Okay, whatever this thing is…”

“It struck again.” Dean interrupted Sam again.

“What?” He asked, looking you who nodded.

“I was listening to the police radio before you got here. There was this guy, uh, Zach Smith, some local drunk; he went up to a stranger's front door last night and stabbed him in the heart.”

“Then I'm guessing he went to the police and confessed?”

“Yep. Roma Downey made him do it. I got the victim’s address.” Dean said, getting up from the bed and taking a sticky note off the mirror and handing it to Sam.

“Great, let’s go,” You said after you finished and smiled, wiping your mouth with a napkin. Sam and Dean opened their mouths to speak but you didn’t want to hear it. “Impala and hair. That's all I gotta say.”

Dean and Sam didn’t say a word as they followed you to the car and Dean took off, wasting no time. He was just as happy to get out of the motel room, even if this was a dead end. But you had a feeling it wouldn’t be.

You got to the house and followed Sam over the fence, into the yard and through the window. It was very easy and probably much easier to go through the front door but you were a wanted woman and you needed to be careful.

The room you landed into, must have been his office because there were books everywhere and a computer and a desk. Sam sat down in front of the computer, ready to get into it while you and Dean searched the room.

“I found nothing in here. We should let Sam work and go check the rest of the house out.” You suggested. Upon exiting the room, you found nothing and sighed when you walked back into the study.

“Did you find anything?” You asked Sam.

“Not much here except he's got this one locked file on his computer. I can’t seem to get into it. Wait, I just did.” Sam said, ending with a grin on his face.

“Yes, you should be very proud of your hacking skill.” You teased.

“It comes in handy,” Sam said, going through the file. “Oh my God.”

“What is it?’ You and Dean walked around and looked at the screen.

“Well, he's got all these emails. Dozens, to this lady named Jennifer. A girl named Jennifer who is thirteen years old.”

“Oh my God! This pervert!” You exclaimed.

“Yeah, I don’t want to hear this.” Dean said, disgusted.

“Looks like they met in a chat room. These emails are pretty personal, guys. Look at that, they were setting up a time and place to meet.”

“That's just great.” Dean said, rolling his eyes.

“They were supposed to meet today.”

“Huh. Well, I guess if you're gonna stab someone, it’s good timing. I don't know, man, this is weird, you know? I mean, sure, some spirits are out for vengeance, but this one's almost like a do-gooder, you know?” Dean said, sighing.

“Like an avenging Angel?” Sam said, looking at you and Dean. The more you are on this case, the more you were believing in Angels. Dean scoffed and turned away, not wanting to hear about the Angels.

“How else do you explain it, Dean? We have three guys who are not at all connected to one another who are all stabbed in the heart? Look, I’m not saying you have to be a believer, but at least open your mind up to the possibility that Angels are real and this may be your first case about one. I remember when we hunted our first vampires. You didn’t think they were real but they are.” You said, looking at Dean. You were siding more with Sam on this than Dean.

“Hey, look at this.” Dean said, picking something up, ignoring what you just said. If he wasn’t ignoring it, he was denying it. It was something Dean Winchester did best.

“What is it?” Sam asked. You sighed and shook your head, wondering how you were going to get this through his thick head.

“You said Carl Gully was a churchgoer, right?”

“Yeah, what about it?”

“What was the name of the church?”

“Our Lady of the Angels.” You said for Sam, remembering you read that while you were confined.

“Of course, that would be the name,” Dean muttered. Dean held up the folder he held for you and Sam. “Looks like Frank went to the same church.”

“Then maybe the church is what’s connecting all these people together. You know, this Angel thing isn’t sounding too bad anymore.” You said, looking at Dean.

“Yeah, yeah, let’s just go to the church in the morning.” Dean said, setting the folder down.

Finding the church was easy and talking with the priest was even easier. If you shed a few tears about finding God and joining the church, then the priest would be all over you. That is why you, Sam and Dean were walking with the priest through the sanctuary of the church.

“So you're interested in joining the parish?” Father Reynolds said.

“Yeah, well, you know, we just don't feel right unless we hit church every Sunday.” Dean lied. You hated lying when it came to religious stuff because you could seriously be messing with some stuff that you didn’t know about but this had to be done in order for you to finish the case.

“Where'd you say you lived before?” Father Reynolds asked.

“Fremont, Texas.” Dean said when both you and Sam looked like deer in headlights.

“Really? That's a nice town and St. Teresa's parish is there. You must know the priest there.”

“Sure, yeah, no it's uh, Father O'Malley.” Dean said, thinking on the dot.

“Hmm, I know a Father Shaughnessy.” Fr. Reynolds said with a frown.

“Shaughnessy, exactly. What'd I say?” Dean said, trying to confuse the man.

“You know, we're just happy to be here now, Father.” Sam said, cutting in.

“We're happy to have you. We could use some young blood around here.”

“Hey, I don’t mean to offend you but I heard things about the neighborhood.” Dean said, looking at the priest to see what he would say.

“Well, it's gone to seed a little, there's no denying that, but that's why what the church does here, is so important. Like I always say, you can expect a miracle, but in the meantime you work your butt off.” He said with a smile.

“Huh. Yeah, we heard about the murders.” Dean said, getting right to the point.

“Yes. The victims were parishioners of mine, I'd known them for years.”

“The killers said that an angel made them do that?” You asked, looking at the Father.

“Yes. Misguided souls, to think that God's messenger would appear and incite people to murder. It's tragic.” He said with a sigh.

“So, you don't believe in those angel yarns, huh?” Dean said, glad to know someone is siding with him.

“No, I do believe with all my heart. I kind of goes with the job description.” Father Reynolds said, pointing to his priest outfit. You looked around the sanctuary, looking at all the stained glass art that were in place for the windows, high above.

“Father, that's Michael, right?” You said, pointing to one of the art pieces.

“That's right. The archangel Michael with the flaming sword; the fighter of demons and holy force against evil.” Fr. Reynolds said, looking at the art.

“So, they're not really the Hallmark card version that everybody thinks? They're fierce, right? Vigilant?” Sam asked.

“Well, I like to think of them as more loving than wrathful. But, uh, yes, a lot of Scripture paints angels as God's warriors. ‘An angel of the Lord appeared to them, the glory of the Lord shone down upon them, and they were terrified’.” You and the Winchesters looked at the man, not knowing what he was quoting. Probably something from the bible. “Luke, two nine.”

“Father, I really appreciate you taking the time to talk with us but I think we should be going. You are a very nice man.” You said, shaking his hand.

“Oh, it’s my pleasure. Let me walk you three out.” He said with a smile and walked out of the church with you.

“Hey, Father, what's all that for?” Dean asked, seeing a lot of tribute items at the bottom of the steps where people can leave things.

“Oh, that's for Father Gregory. He was a priest here.”

“Was?” Dean asked, looking at Sam with his eyebrows raised.

“He passed away right on these steps. He's interred in the church crypt.”

“When did this happen?” You asked.

“Two months ago. He was shot for his car keys.” The priest sighed deeply.

“I’m sorry.” You said with a sigh.

“Yeah, me too. He was a good friend. I didn't even have time to administer his last rites. But like I said, it's a tough neighborhood. Ever since he died I've been praying my heart out.”

“For what?”

“For deliverance from the violence and the bloodshed around here. We could use a little divine intervention, I suppose.”

“Well, thank you again for taking the time to see us. It’s been a pleasure.” You said, walking away from the priest. He walked back into the church and Dean stopped you and Sam.

“You still think it’s an Angel?” Dean took you to the shrine to investigate.

“What? You seriously think Fr. Gregory is doing all of this?” You said, looking at Sam who shifted uncomfortably.

“Well, he knew all the other stiffs, because they went to church here, in fact I'm willing to bet that because he was their priest. He knew things about them that nobody else knew.” Dean said, standing back up.

“Then again, Father Reynolds started praying for God's help about two months ago, right? Right about the time all this started happening?” Sam observed.

“Aw, come on, man, what's your deal?” Dean said with a sigh and an eye roll.

“What do you mean?” Sam asked, offended a bit.

“Look, I'll admit I'm a bit of a skeptic, but since when are you all Mr. 700 Club? Seriously, from the git-go you've been willing to buy this angel crap, man. I mean, what's next, are you going to start praying every day?” Dean said, looking at his brother.

“I do.” Sam simply stated.

“What?”

“I do pray every day. I have for a long time.” Sam admitted.

“You know what,” You said, stepping between the brothers. “I think that’s awesome, Sam. You know, whatever makes this life easier.”

“Yeah, I guess. Whatever, let’s check out Father Gregory’s grave.” Dean said, walking away. You stopped Sam before he could leave.

“I’m serious, Sam, I think it’s awesome. I mean, I don’t pray at all but if you seem to find some peace through it, then more power to you.” You said, linking your arm with his.

“Thanks, Y/N.” Sam said with a smile, starting to follow Dean.

“Yeah, plus, those people aren’t the only ones who’ve seen an Angel.” You said, admitting what you were so afraid to admit before.

“Wait, what?” Sam said, stopping you from walking.

“I’ll explain later. Right now, we have a case to do.” You said, continued on walking with Sam.

The Queens:

@maddieburcham1 @ginamsmith  @mogaruke @whit85-blog @inlovewithbja @spn67-sister @kdfrqqg @jarpadandjensenaremyheroes @roxyspearing @supercalifragilistic26 @mishamigose @cobrakai1967 @essie1876 @wishedworld @crispychrissy @laqueus-ludovicus @nostalgic-uncertainty @jerk-bitch-and-an-angel @potterhead1265 @starswirlblitz @untitled39887 @ta-n-ja @deans-fallen-angel-boy @scarletluvscas @notnaturalanahi @tahbehonest @stay-in--place @dreaminofdean @posiemax @donnaintx @mikey1822 @alexandriajanae4 @li-ssu @just-another-winchester @obsessivecompulsivespn @emoryhemsworth @newtospnfandom @mizzezm @goldenolaf25

The Dean Beans:

@akshi8278 @mega-mrs-dean-winchester @winchesterandpie @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester @carribear31 @tacklesackles @oreosatmidnight @not-naturalfangirl @missselinakitty @iam-a-cutiepie  @kristendansmith  @milo-winchester-4ever @jensenackesl @codyshany316 @pheonyxstorm @helllonearth @juniorhuntersam @pouterpufftrain @ruprecht0420 @shut-ur-face-and-get-in-the-car @carriemichelle2012 @aubreystilinski

Series Rewrite Junkies:

@helllonearth @amyisabellal @deanwnchstr @caseykitten6 @roxalya19 @quixoticcat @supernaturalblogging @notmoose45 @crowleysminion @mina22 @tahbehonest @hadleymcallister2177 @destielsangels @spnhybrid @oreosatmidnight @valerieshubin @seninjakitey @flyonlittlewinchester  @aubreystilinski