#i have three builds for him and a backup weapon in case i don’t get his sig

[uhzuku]

five and a half hours u til the boy 🥹🥹 all these months waiting for aventurine r abt to end <3

[threeadventurers]

Act 7 - Enough Already!

“If it helps,” Graham spoke up as much as he could in a hush whisper, “I can join you with backup, Mako.”

“See? You’re not going to be entirely alone. Or is that cramping the supposed heroic style of yours?” Guybrush mocked, hissing very quickly as Graham swiftly elbowed him in the side. “Right, stopping that.”

Link shook his head and shuffled himself passed the zora to the pirate, tapping him on the shoulder to be ready to follow. Graham pulled out his bow, brushing his finger against the arrows’ feathers, now having to be extra careful with which one he was about to fire, and grabbed his standard one. 

Carefully aiming it a fair distance from the guards, Graham side-eyed the two. “As soon as I fire, make a run for it.”

The two nodded, counted to three, and Graham released the arrow, watching it hit one of the many rocks and listening to it echo off against the walls. To his relief, the guards turned their attention to the noise, gripping tightly their weapon as they made their way to the source of the sound. 

“Not exactly the brightest group, are they?” Guybrush mumbled.

“Nope, but it’s preferable.” Link agreed, patting at the pirate to follow as they rushed their way towards the prisoners' hold.

Graham grabbed another arrow, following their path and ready to fire just in case someone showed up but as soon as they were out of sight, he lowered his weapon, ducking just a bit more as two guards walked passed him to the otherside of the cavern towards what looked almost like a small building, though made entirely out of the cavern’s walls.

“They’re in?” Mako asked.

“Just about.”

“Good.” The zora pulled out his retractable trident and unfurled it.

“Uh… what are you doing?” Graham asked, pocketing the bow and arrow away.

“What does it look like? Investigate.” Mako pointed to the aforementioned other side. “So while Link is off rescuing the prisoners,”

“And with Guybrush helping.” Graham mumbled under his breath.

“I’m going to investigate that.”

A protest bubbled in his throat but quickly vanished as Mako made a beeline from one covering to the next, getting closer towards the other guards’ location. He grumbled slightly to himself, wishing that he spoke up soon and went with Guybrush to free the prisoners, but decided quickly to just forget it in favor of following the zora. He ducked once more alongside him, spotting the two guards keeping watch. He also noticed how Mako gripped his weapon. 

“We can take them down…” Mako whispered. “I’ll take the one on the left and you take the one on the right.”

“No way.” Graham whispered back, putting a hand over the zora’s to stand him down.

Mako looked shocked for a moment before it shifted to insulted. “And why not? I can do so easily.”

“I– look, it’s not that I doubt you can do it, I bet you can, but it’s not a gamble that I think it’s worth taking. Especially so when the last thing we want to do is bring attention to either ourselves or Link and Guybrush who, friendly reminder, are in the process of rescuing the kidnapees.”

The zora stared for a moment, as if calculating what to say next, when he huffed and sat back down. “I suppose you’re right… especially in regards to Link.”

Now it was Graham’s turn to frown. “And Guybrush.”

Mako remained silent, not even acknowledging a response to the young knight which in turn had Graham begin to feel frustrated. Huffing himself, Graham shifted himself in a better position.

“Okay, you know what? I’ve been listening to the two of you bicker, I’ve heard Guybrush’s side of the story and now I have to ask. What the heck is your beef with him? He hasn’t done anything to be antagonistic to you.”

“He’s been nothing but antagonistic to me.”  

“Yeah, because YOU started it!” Graham pointed a finger at him. “He can be blunt, a smart alec and frustratingly sarcastic, but he’s never antagonistic without reason. And I might not have known him personally for long, but I know him well enough to know that much about him.”

“Then you don’t know him well enough!” Mako snapped. 

“Then explain to me!” He spoke in a harsh whisper. “Did you two know each other in the past? Did he do you personally wrong? You just blamed him for the Pox which was an accident, an accident that had nothing to do with you!” 

“Like hell it did nothing.” He hissed. “That supposed accident made pirates everywhere go berserk and start killing off sea creatures, merfolks and zoras alike. You tell me THAT was an accident?”

“It’s not like he could control all of the pirates, Mako.” Graham glared. “You’re exaggerating the situation of what he did and what transpired. He unleashed it, sure, but he didn’t control them and you know that. More to that, he stopped it and took full accountability, what more do you want from him?”

Mako looked away, fuming with an anger that was hard to ignore. 

“Well? What else?” Graham pushed. 

“You recall what I’m looking for?”

“The rare artifact. Which Guybrush didn’t steal.” As far as he knew, he thought internally. 

“Let me spell it out for you. Back where I’m from, there are two types of stones, the miasma inducing one which is reeking all over the place, and the other being the stone I’m looking for, which cleanses the miasma-covered areas.” Mako explained with a bitter tone. “Now you’re supposedly bright, tell me, have you noticed anything peculiar about this scenery?” 

He hated the tone and was beginning to understand why Guybrush was so short tempered with the zora, but still looked around, seeing just the guards when it clicked. 

“They’re without their masks…” Graham mumbled in realization.

“Exactly. What do you think that means?”

“They have the cleansing stone.”

“Very good! You put two and two together.” Mako took off the mask from his face, showing the sneer that was hidden underneath. 

“And what does that have to do with Guybrush?” Graham asked, taking off his mask.

The zora scowled. “We had those stones to protect us from menaces and monsters like him, to shield us from those inflicted with the Pox. But our cleansing stone was taken, poisoning our homes and leaving us vulnerable to be struck. That’s why I’m here, that’s why this is important. I’m here to reclaim our stone and stop pirates and him from hurting us!”

“But Guybrush didn’t steal it, and he cured the Pox.” Graham frowned. 

“It doesn’t matter, all pirates are the same.”

The young knight sighed, sitting back down. “Mako, I get that this whole Pox thing was… an ordeal, but I’m asking you to please just give Guybrush a chance. I promise you, he’s not the same pirate as he was back then.”

“How can you prove that? How can you prove he didn’t lie to you with your story?” Mako asked.

“Because if he didn’t want to help, he would have betrayed us by now. Also, no offense, but you wouldn’t have gotten much progress if it wasn’t for him.”

“Oh yeah? Well…!” The zora raised a finger, pointing at Graham but just growled and crossed his arms. “Shut up.”

Graham just smirked.

[adarlingmess]

Ugnayan

Summary:

Filipino word, noun: connection between persons, groups, countries, etc.

A collection of works detailing a manananggal clan’s relations with the Treses, and their allies.

II: Bad Habits

Summary: After disrupting one of House of Arko’s operations, one of the Kambal meets up with their informant.

Words: 4540

Characters: Basilio, Crispin, Sabina (OC), Alexandra Trese (mentioned only), Ammie (mentioned only), Reyna Manananggal (mentioned only), Dominic Villaceran (mentioned only), Mama Grande (mentioned only)

Relationships: Basilio/Original Female Character

Language: English, with a few Filipino words and phrases sprinkled in.

Rating: 16+

Warnings: Strong language, violence, mentions of abortion, references to human trafficking + sexual trafficking, sexual themes

Author’s Notes:

I am: back on my bullshit again

People were looking for a part 2 so have more Basilio x OC stuff. Spoiler warning for Verdugo: Takutan because this story heavily references its lore and events! The comics are known to be darker in tone, and so is this fic, so heed the warnings above. No Taglish version this time, Darling niyo pagod na 😩

This was supposed to be a simple job.

Get in, rough up House of Arko’s operation while Bossing is paying them a visit in their mansion, get out, and watch as Bossing confronts them about it at the next social gathering they’ll host.

But nothing was ever simple about the aswang, right?

Now there’s a huge one trying to eat Basilio alive.

“Damn it, Basilio. Your recklessness is a bad habit that’ll bite us in the ass later!” his older brother berates him.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever! Now might be the right time to call for backup kuya,” he strains, attempting to pull the  magubat’s jaw apart with his superhuman strength. His fingers slip from the drool and it almost bites his hands off.

Crispin’s busy with a horde of mailap, taking turns in taking pot shots from him in the shadows. “We should’ve taken a page from Carlos’ book and brought palm fronds. Who should we call?”

“What about Maliksi?” Basilio suggests.

“What’s one tikbalang to all these aswangs? We need something bigger, maybe a higante to take on that magubat!”

“Gago, a higante can’t get here as fast as a tikbalang!” Basilio snaps.

“Mas gago ka! What about that playmate of ours from when we were kids, y’know, the one that tipped Bossing off about this whole trafficking operation anyway? Think she can fly her way here?” Crispin growls, shooting down a mailap who was foolish enough to ambush the more cautious twin from above.

Ah, yes. Sabina.

Boyish, intimidating, hard to figure out- but still hot enough to flirt with, despite being aswang; that’s how Basilio would describe her. This Sab was a far cry from the Sabina Marie he once knew years ago, the one who used to wear an all-girl Catholic school uniform, shyly shared her snacks and books with him, and kissed him farewell when her mama told her she’ll not be coming with her to meetings with the lakan anymore.

A few days after they caught up with each other, she turned up at the Diabolical not too long ago with a flash drive for Alex’s eyes only. She didn’t even breathe a word to him, much less look at his direction, but Basilio could only surmise that it’s his fault.

“Sabina? Well, manananggals who follow the queen can shoot. It’s- ungh- worth the shot!” Basilio answers back, straining as he gets swatted to the side with one gigantic claw. “You make the call, my hands are full!”

“Give me your phone, I don’t have her Facespace.”

Basilio looks down from several feet, and gives his brother a sheepish smile. “Uhhh, okay, but she’s been seenzoning me.”

From behind his mask, Crispin frowns. “What did you do?”

“She might’ve seen me tagged in Ammie’s story when I was supposed to watch her gig. I got there when her set was ending, and she was pissed.”

Grumbling, Crispin takes his frustrations off on a mabangis charging towards him, a flurry of bullets raining upon its body. “What did Bossing say about getting personal with informants?”

“What? It’s Sab. She’s-”

“An aswang who might have an ulterior motive in helping us. Tangina Basilio, think with your head sometimes! The one between your shoulders!”

Distracted, Basilio failed to stop the jaws of the magubat from closing in on him. As quickly as his reflexes allow, he tosses his brother his phone.

“Just call already! Tell her it’s an emergency.”

The older Kambal flies up and extends his free hand to catch it. Crispin launches Basilio’s Facespace app and begins to search for their informant. He found her under the name Sab Evasco. Crispin pretended not to see the string of messages Basilio left for her, all left on read.

Her phone rings. One time. Two times. Three times. Crispin dials again. Twice. Thrice.

Someone picks up. He puts the call on the loudspeaker.

There’s someone strumming a guitar in the background, accompanied by a drumset’s cymbals. They come to a halt and Crispin hears a frustrated woman’s voice from the other end of the line.

“Ulol gago, fuck you Basilio, you can tell me if you’d rather go on Starbreaks coffee dates with a wind girl than watch me play.  I’m a grown woman, I can handle a simple ‘no’. I’m not in the mood for your games! Now fuck off, I don’t want to hear from you. I have a gig to practice for.”

Basilio cringes as he listens to Sabina’s tirade. Crispin guns a charging mabangis down, and his mask dematerializes for a brief moment, just enough for him to mouth to his brother “Gago ka talaga.”

“Sabina, it’s Crispin. We could use some backup here. We’re being swarmed by aswang.”

The sound of a guitar being unceremoniously dropped and the mad shuffle to catch it can be heard from Sabina’s line, followed by quick footsteps. Sabina talks again, calmer this time. “What? Couldn’t Basilio get his own ass on the phone and tell me himself?”

With an exasperated expression, Crispin turns on the camera, and points the phone at Basilio, who’s caught between the magubat’s jaws. “He said you were ignoring him, and he can’t get on the phone right now, as you can see.”

The Kambal heard her fumbling with more equipment, which sounded like a guitar case being zipped up and carried. A brief argument with her bandmates follows, then Sabina talks again.

“I’ll be there. Stay on the line.”

Now they wait.

As much as Crispin wanted to help his little brother, his hands were full with the wave after wave of aswang coming after them. They’re relentless. This is their food supply the Kambal are cutting off, after all.

“Any luck with Sab?” Basilio asks, attempting to shoot the roof of the mabangis’ mouth.

The bullets barely penetrate the thick membrane. He’ll need to transform the Armas Infinitum into a more powerful weapon to lobotomize the gigantic aswang, but seeing how he’s separated from his twin, it’s impossible at the moment.

“She said she’s on the way. She’s still on the phone. Here!”

Crispin throws the phone back to Basilio, who catches it with one hand, while his other arm continues to struggle with the magubat trying to swallow him whole. He tucks it in his breast pocket, and he jumps near the row of the magubat’s front teeth, prying it open with both arms.

Through the aswangs’ growls, Basilio could faintly hear a woman cursing and the jingling of keys from the other side of the line.

“Hey Sab! It’s Basilio. Sorry again about missing your gig.”

“Shut up and hang tight. If I didn’t care for you at all...” Sabina snaps. Basilio could barely make out the words Sabina was saying due to the wind and sound of traffic. “I’m on my way.”

“Ngh, can’t you come any sooner? I heard that aswang intestines are nasty.” Basilio pauses, realizing his mistake. “No offense.”

“I said zip it. Isn’t it enough that I went out of hiding and agreed to be Trese’s informant? Now I have to be your backup too?”

“Working with Bossing has its risks. We made that clear, princess.”

“Don’t call me that.”

There’s more turbulence and wind from Sabina’s line. If Basilio guessed, she’s now flying to the scene. The Kambal’s struggle with the aswang continued until they heard their informant’s voice through the speakers again.

“Big bad war demigods can’t handle a single fucking magubat?” Sabina deadpans, the turbulence and noise no longer accompanying her voice. “Open the fucker’s mouth wide. Make sure he’s facing east.”

“Kuya! She’s in the area, help me pry the jaws open!” the younger Kambal shouts to his older brother, who dodges a leaping mailap and quickly flies up to his aid.

“What’s the plan?” Crispin asks, and Basilio shrugs.

“I don’t know, she just asked me to do it!”

Before Crispin could question Basilio, a shot rings throughout the building, and the magubat collapses. The Kambal let go of the heavy jaws and flew away, watching the near-twenty foot aswang crush a few of its regular-sized kind. Upon closer inspection, a bullet has torn its way through the roof of its mouth. It’s a clean shot. The magubat isn’t regenerating, much to the Kambal’s surprise.

It’s a pleasant surprise, nonetheless.

“That’s for trying to eat my brother,” Crispin spits, kicking the dead aswang’s head.

Soon, more of the aswang started dropping like flies, too. Razed by bullets from an unknown assailant, the House of Arko aswangs started to panic.

“Wait a minute, I know manananggals who follow the queen can shoot, but Sabina is a sniper? Do you know about this, Bas?” Crispin exclaims, tearing his eyes away from the dead magubat to face yet another wave of mabangis.

“No! Damn, she’s using special bullets too. Where’d she get those?” Basilio mutters. A mailap attempts an ambush attack, and before he could react, Basilio watches it get shot mid-air as it attempts to jump him.

“You’re mine,” Sabina hisses, her voice crackling through Basilio’s phone speaker, smooth through the static.

Her emphasis on the word “mine” made goosebumps ripple through Basilio’s arm.

“Hot. Could you say that again?”

What he got instead was a groan. “Fuck, don’t distract me Basilio. I’m not here for fun.”

“You seem to be having fun shooting House of Arko’s minions though.”

“Fair. You two better look for the hostages. I have a bone to pick with this lot.”

The Kambal looks at each other, and nods. Glass shatters as they fly out the building’s windows, to the upper floors. After taking care of the guards, they saw them. Men and women in cages, all naked, and herded like livestock. 

“Please, help us,” one of them whimpers, crawling to the front of the cage and grabbing Crispin by the arm. She’s dirty, and her belly is swollen. Basilio turned on the lights and they saw it clear as day: most of these women are pregnant. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what was going on.

House of Arko farms their food, breeding humans like livestock, and harvesting fetuses from them.

Sirens are blaring outside, both from police cars and ambulances, waiting for the hostages to be rescued.

All is well, or so they thought.

“Fuck!”

The cry came from their informant’s line.

“Everything alright?” Basilio asks her after fishing his phone out of his breast pocket.

“There are a few of them who found my vantage point. They’re heading towards my position.”

“Get out of there already, the hostages are secure.”

“They saw me. I can’t let them report back to Mama Grande and her sons that a manananggal is helping you. Suspicion would fall on my clan.”

Crispin nudges his younger brother. “I’ll handle the hostages and wait for Bossing. You make sure our informant’s alright.”

“Way ahead of you kuya,” Basilio replies, taking his guns out and flying out the window.

Under the pale moonlight and the city’s lights, Basilio spots a group of aswang scaling a dilapidated building east of him. On the rooftop, he sees it. Wings black as night, flattened against the concrete. Sabina lies prone and is aiming her scoped hunting rifle downwards, picking off the advancing horde one by one.

“Time to play.” The demigod rushes in and makes bullets rain on the hostiles.

He takes out a mabangis approaching their sniper from her blind spot. Those who didn’t die from being shot fell to their death, regeneration halted either by his or Sabina’s doing.

Basilio descends on the rooftop, and he walks his way towards the manananggal. His mask dematerialized, and the wind tousled his long hair. Just to be safe, he kept a pistol in one hand.

Across him, Sabina takes out her wireless earbuds and puts them away. Then, she slings her rifle on her shoulder, safety on. With her wings, she crawled towards his direction, like how a bat would move. Then, uses her wings’ sharp claws to plant herself on the concrete, a feat regular bats couldn’t do.

“Thanks for the help, Sab. About that gig…”

Before any more words could come out of his mouth, Sabina holds up her forefinger and presses it against his lips. “Shh. No more apologizing about the missed gig. Just make up for it. You owe me.”

Basilio nods, smiling at her. He watches as Sabina fishes out a box of cigarettes and a lighter from her vest. She’s wearing a black, long-sleeved polo shirt underneath it, and its sleeves are rolled up. Her shirt was unbuttoned just enough for him to catch a glimpse of lace peeking through. For all her boyish, edgy posturing, her choice of underclothes is girlier than what Basilio expected.

It almost makes him want to unwrap her like a Christmas present, but he’ll keep that thought to himself.

“Nice outfit. You were rehearsing in that?”

“We had a presentation for a class. No time to get changed. Now there’s a hole in the back, so I might as well wear this more often on future operations,” Sabina replies, placing a stick of Marlborough Reds between her lips.

“I’m in the mood for a smoke and maybe a chat,” she continues. “Join me?”

Basilio nods.

“How did you know about House of Arko’s human trafficking thing, anway?”

“Believe it or not, it was a hunch,” Sabina explains, black fingernails scratching the sparkwheel several times. “Ugh, fucking lighter dying on me again. I just had it refilled… must be the wind,” she growls.

Basilio couldn’t help but chuckle at her frustration. “A hunch?”

“Hmm… maybe hunch isn’t the right word. It’s an educated guess. Mama Grande loved serving boiled fetuses to her house guests, correct?”

Basilio nods, waiting for Sabina to continue her explanation.

“I suppose that it’s my place to judge if their mothers didn’t want to raise them… I’m a manananggal, for fuck’s sake. But there’s one red flag House of Arko failed to hide. From what I can tell, those fetuses are around five to eight months old.”

Sabina’s lighter finally lit up, and with a triumphant laugh, she lit her cigarette. Then, she carries on with her explanation.

“Most abortions happen during the first three months of pregnancy. It’s rare to see expecting parents get rid of them that late.”

“So? What does that have to do with the whole thing?”

“House of Arko serving older fetuses could mean one of two things: either all, and I mean all of the abortions they performed are from those who are truly in need of one that late, or they’re getting them from another source, possibly an illicit one. They don’t have the most benevolent reputation, so my intuition tells me it was the latter. So, I paid the place a visit and recorded what I could. I guess I should be thankful that your bossing found that blurry video trustworthy enough,” Sabina concluded, watching as the victims were clothed and herded into ambulances.

Dumbfounded, Basilio scratches his head. “Wow. Glad you’re on our side. How did you know that three month thing anyway?”

“Research and personal accounts.” Sabina’s response is clipped. Cold. Abrupt. It only raised more questions than answers.

“Personal accounts? You’ve met people who got them?”

There’s a flash of regret in Sabina’s eyes; regret that she opened her mouth and let him know more than needed. She cuts him off. “I can’t put my informants’ identities in jeopardy either now, can I?”

Per his older twin’s advice, Basilio’s finally using the head between his shoulders. “No offense, but you’re a manananggal. Y’know, known for eating babies? Hearing that from you is suspicious.”

“Yes, I am,” Sabina says through gritted teeth, glaring at him. “I can assure you, I’m following the accords and I’m not exploiting loopholes like what House of Arko is doing. I’ll reveal everything in due time.”

“Alright, keep your secrets. For now.”

A tense silence has befallen them.

“So- '' the manananggal blows a cloud of smoke away from Basilio, “-is this going to be a regular thing? Because if it is, I might finally quit smoking. Nicotine makes my hands shaky. Can’t risk accidentally shooting your ass.” She pauses, looking at him in jest. “ I’d rather do that intentionally.”

“You’re breaking my heart, Sabina Marie,” Basilio retorts, clutching his chest in mock pain.

They share a laugh over it, the mood lightening up.

Basilio looks in the distance, taking in the view of the cityscape. “Maybe you should quit. Singers shouldn’t be smoking in the first place.”

“The tar helps me belt out raspy screams, but yeah, you’re right,” Sabina chuckles.

“So, when is this next gig?”

“Next week. In Ilocos Norte. All the way up in House of Arko’s ancestral home.”

“Should I take that info to Bossing?”

“Yep. It’s open to the supernatural public anyway, so it's not like I’m giving you top secret info. Even the wind tribe is invited, despite their bad blood with my clan. Hopefully things won’t get physical. Most of my sisters are still bitter over how they blew us away when my mom- I mean, Inang Reyna decided to side against the Treses.”

So that explains some things.

“I dunno, maybe I should bring Ammie so I can watch the two of you in a catfight.”

Sabina elbows him in the chest, hard.

“Not funny at all, Basilio. I don’t even know her personally! It’s you I was pissed at.”

Now he grabs his chest in genuine pain as he croaks out an apology. “Sorry.”

“Whatever. Bring whoever the hell you want, just keep your distance from me when you decide to go. Even my father’s going to be there. I need to be on my best behavior.”

The demigod turns to their aswang informant, interest piqued. She’s divulging a lot of information. Perhaps he can sway her to spill more secrets.

“Didn’t know that the Reyna Manananggal had a king.”

“Oh, no. She’s not the type to share her power with a man.” Sabina pauses to take another hit of her cigarette. “I meant my biological father. Villaceran.”

Now that was unexpected.

“You drop bombshell after bombshell whenever we meet. Tomas Dominic Villaceran’s your old man?”

“Look at me. I’m almost the splitting image of the guy. If there’s one thing I’m grateful for, it’s inheriting his good looks.”

Basilio grins. “Can’t deny that. Most of the manananggal kuya Crispin and I encountered look...”

“Hideous, I know,” Sabina says outright. “You still haven’t seen that side of me, so don’t be too quick to judge my sisters.”

Basilio treads carefully, knowing that he might be prying on a sensitive subject. “So, about Villaceran…”

“I’d rather not talk about him. Our relationship is… strained.”

Giving her a sympathetic, understanding look, Basilio nods. “Right. Never mind.”

Another interval of silence passes between them. This time, it’s a little somber.

“So, does this party have a dress code?”

“Yeah. Filipiniana. Wear a barong. It’s one of those pretentious events that attempts to make House of Arko more appealing to the masses or whatever. Manipulative assholes.”

“You can just refuse to go, Sab.”

“I could, but being Trese’s mole among the aswang means I have to attend clan activities to supply more information. That also means attending every single party those Arko fucks throw.”

“You really hate House of Arko, huh?”

Looking towards his direction to meet his gaze, Sabina’s eyes are filled with a sea of emotions. Hatred, indignation, and something Basilio couldn’t quite place.

“Why wouldn’t I? Mama Grande raised boys who can’t take no for an answer. The Arko brothers have no respect for us manananggal. As if we weren’t fetishized enough in Manong Karma’s stupid aswang dating book...”

Sabina clears her throat and calms herself down. Bad blood between aswang clans could mean war. Basilio knows he should take that to the boss. His gears are turning tonight. He asks Sabina questions that could risk her support.

“Is that why you agreed to be an informant? You wanna bring House of Arko down? Then what, your clan will fill the space they’ll leave?”

“What? No, I have no desire for power, not like how Mama Grande or my own mother does anyway. My personal gripes with them aside, the House of Arko wants to ‘unite the aswang under one banner’ with no respect to the other clans’ autonomy and customs.”

“So you wanna protect your clan?”

“That’s one of the reasons, yes. Mama Grande’s been trying to play kumare with mom- I mean Inang Reyna-” This is the second time Sabina slipped and called her mom. She clears her throat and composes herself. “And I need to stop that. Inang Reyna already made the mistake of going against the Accords once. Allying with the House of Arko will ruin us further.”

Basilio leans in closer. “And what are your other reasons?”

Sabina looks at him for a few, quiet seconds, and looks away. “I’ll reveal them-”

“In due time. Yeah, yeah, I can take that as an answer. So, making you sing in that event is a result of them being magkumare?”

A defeated laugh bubbles from Sabina’s chest. “You got it.”

“I’m surprised they didn’t invite sirena to sing.”

Sabina rolls her eyes and tosses the butt of her expended cigarette on the concrete. Basilio took it upon himself to crush the embers under his heel, seeing how her lower half is hidden someplace else.

“Oh please, this is House of Arko we’re talking about, Bas. They believe aswang are superior. Letting them shine would take away the spotlight from the aswang. Mama Grande asked for me from Inang Reyna so they can gloat that even aswang can make better singers than the famed sirena. Ugh, I doubt my singing style even matches the performance they want from me.”

“Oh yeah? What kind of performance are they going for?” he asks her.

“Now that’s another secret. You have to show up to find out,” she hums in response.

Turning away from him, Sabina checks how many sticks are left in the box. Two. She takes one and lights it up.

“Screw it, I’m going cold turkey. I guess this will be my final box. Maybe for tonight. Maybe forever.”

“Then maybe you should stop with the stick you’re smoking and throw the last one away,” Basilio suggests.

“Are you mad? That’s a waste of money!”

“Still counting your blessings even with your mama’s wealth huh?”

“Old habits die hard.”

Sabina blows smoke away from Basilio’s direction. The wind made it waft to his face anyway, and she mumbles a quick apology. He shrugs it off. Not like the adverse effects of secondhand smoke affected him anyway. Hank smoked and was polite enough to turn away too, but Basilio can still smell it. He didn’t mind it. Still, Hank had told him and Crispin that it was a tough habit to break, so he never touched a cigarette.

Not until now.

Basilio takes the box from Sabina and picks up the last stick with his lips. Then, he inches closer to her.

Ironically, in an attempt to help an old friend quit her smoking habit, Basilio engages in it himself.

Little did he know, a new bad habit was forming between him and the little lady before him.

“I’ll make sure it won’t go to waste then. Light me.”

Sabina raises an eyebrow. “Just don’t start at all. Give it back.”

“One smoke isn’t going to get me hooked, princess.”

Brows knitted together, Sabina chastises him. “Take it from me, bad habits start with just one little taste, Bas.”

“One little taste never hurts anyone...”

“One little taste could leave you wanting for more.”

Basilio can feel himself getting hot under the collar. He’d never thought an aswang of all creatures could make him feel all bothered, yet there he was, getting turned on by her choice of words.

“Princess, are we still talking about cigarettes, or something else?”

Hearing his question, Sabina exhales sharply through her nose, cheeks dusted pink. “Maybe both. Whatever. Come here.”

Black fingernails scratched at the sparkwheel. Sparks were flying, but there was no flame. The cigarette remained unlit.

“Well, it looks like fate isn’t letting you smoke, so better just give me the damn cigarette back, Basilio.”

With a sly look, Basilio closes in on her, and presses the end of his cigarette to the embers at the end of hers, linking them together.

To his surprise, Sabina is neither backing away nor babbling defensively like she usually does whenever he gets close. Instead, she presses her chest to his, a challenging look in her half-lidded eyes. She wasn’t wearing her glasses like usual, giving Basilio an unobstructed view of her heated gaze. Was it bloodlust or desire? Either way, it got his blood pumping.

“You’re chattier than usual tonight,” Basilio comments. “Bolder too. I like that.”

In the form she’s in now, Sabina’s eyes glowed an eerie white, and aside from the wings sprouting from her back, little horns sprouted from her scalp, the root concealed by her crown of short, wavy hair. Basilio didn’t pay mind to her dangling guts, instead, his eyes were transfixed on that cute little lace bra again.

Through the layers of cloth between them, he can feel her heart beating. Basilio faintly remembers the taste of human and sigbin hearts.

Now, what does aswang heart taste like?

A dark part of his psyche- perhaps from being Datu Talagbusao’s son- wanted to tear it out of her chest and eat it to find out.

Basilio felt the urge to taste all the battles she fought through her blood, and possess her heart in a way no other person can.

The memory of seeing his father tasting his mother’s blood inserts itself in the present, and the fear of turning into the monster he was is enough for him to shake that thought away.

Basilio tries to focus on something else.

His eyes wander to Sabina’s mouth. He might’ve imagined something else between her dark lips, in place of the cigarette. Something bigger.

Something of his.

Sabina’s been pliable tonight. Perhaps he’ll push his luck with her one last time.

“So, any plans tonight, dear princess?”

“Unless you intend to treat me like one, don’t call me that.”

“I’m done with work, so if you want me to make good on that and make up for my mistake…”

Giggling, Sabina flies a few feet away from him. The black wings on her back are translucent against the pale moonlight. They almost looked like a dark shade of red.

“Go tell your brother about the information I gave you for now, then meet up with me afterwards. I hid my lower half in an alleyway behind that motel,” she tells him, pointing to the building’s direction.

“If you’re lucky, you’ll get to rearrange my guts. Literally and figuratively.” Sabina continues, a naughty smirk blooming on her lips.

Taken aback by the pun, Basilio laughs. “I didn’t think you were capable of dirty jokes.”

“You should know by now that I’m full of secrets and surprises.”

Grinning darkly, Basilio finishes the rest of his cigarette as he watches her fly away.

“And I’ll uncover them all, dear princess.”

Translations:

ulol - crazy; Filipino profanity

gago/gaga - foolish or stupid; Filipino profanity

tangina - contraction of putang ina, lit. whore mother. Used as an expression to express irritation, anger, or astonishment

Inang Reyna - lit. Queen Mother.

mare/kumare - derived from the Spanish word madre/comadre; kumare a reciprocal appellation for the godmother or for the child's mother. In a more modern and colloquial context, it’s used to refer to a female friend. Magkumare means women who are friends with each other.

Filipiniana - Philippine related book and non-book material

barong - also known as Barong Tagalog. An embroidered long-sleeved formal shirt for men and a national dress of the Philippines.

[ionlyjoinedforstuffilike]

The Pain of Love

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Female Reader

Word Count: 1,900

Rating/Warnings: E (18+), smut, hurt comfort, angst, description of injuries and mention of weapons and violence.

Summary: Tending your wounds from a fight you're not sure you've won, Steve arrives uninvited to your apartment. He helps clean you up but will his presence only cause you more pain? (Takes place before cacw)

A/N: Thank you to @barnessupremacy for both inspiring and supporting me to write for Steve.

The face staring back at you barely recognisable, the purple spreading across your eye, down your cheek, swelling at the cut near your brow, your lip split, pretty sure your tooth cracked though you prayed it was just the ache of your battered jaw. The bruising trailed over your body, you turned this way and that, looking at them in front of the mirror, assessing the damage. A map of carnage half hidden by your cami. Definitely cracked ribs, scrapes on your hands, knees. It really didn't feel like you'd won the fight. You weren't really sure you had.

You'd discarded your outer clothes slowly and painfully before dumping the contents of your pharmacy run on the vanity. Bandages and antiseptic to try and clean yourself up, strong painkillers too though you were depending on the large scotch you'd poured until they kicked in.

Life after the Avengers was supposed to be easier, safer. But then you had chosen to freelance, you had chosen this case, to confront a group of very violent men alone. Investigating security breaches, corporate espionage of course came with risk, but a breeze compared to saving the world. Though back when you were your backup had been a group of exceptional individuals with unlimited resources. It wasn't easy to walk away, everyone made an effort to ask you to stay, more out of politeness than genuine need, after all whatever you offered the team was hardly unique and easy enough to replace. You couldn't stay, it had gotten too hard. Not to fight. Not to get up and face unknowable foes. No, you couldn't be near him and not be with him. Not anymore. Steve was the reason you joined, he was the reason he left. At first you convinced yourself it was a silly crush, though soon you realised it was so much more, not just one side and that made it was harder to brush off. Every time you thought you were moving forward, he'd pull back. You couldn't compete with ghosts. So, breaking your own heart, you walked away.

Sighing as you stretched, testing out the ache and strain of your muscles, you picked you a cotton ball, dabbed it to the bottle of antiseptic then to your knuckles, cursing the sting and the situation. A few knuckles and string of expletives later you heard something. Gathering your drink, you moved out to the hallway, waited, listened and there a few moments later - three quiet but distinct raps. You placed your glass on the hall table, exchanged it for your Glock and made your way to the door. Heart hammering, wondering how the hell the guys from earlier got your address, you hadn't been followed, maybe you had and you were simply distracted by your injuries to notice. You removed the safety as you peered through the peephole.

An unimpressed chuckle escaped you, rattled against your tender ribs, you flipped the safety back on on twisted the door handle. Letting the door swing open as you made your way back through the hallway, dropping the gun with a clunk before snatching up your drink and going back to the bathroom. He followed. You'd taken up the cotton ball to continue tending your wounds when his reflection appeared in the mirror. Hands in pockets he leaned against the door jamb, his plain t-shirt stretching across his biceps, he'd taken off the jacket (probably hung neatly on the hook by the door).

"Should I ask?" He blue eyes finding yours in the glass. "Are you okay?"

"You should see the other guy." your smirk quickly followed by a wince as the antiseptic hit your skin.

He walked towards you, his tall broad frame filling the space and towering over you, "I don't care about the other guy." His hands went to your waist, picking you up he placed you next to the sink, then took the cotton ball from your hand and carefully began pressing it to your cut. "It looks pretty bad, maybe we should get you to a medic."

"It's fine. This is how non superhumans look after a fist fight."

He ignored you, though you caught the slight arch of his brow. He continued to clean the wound, moving closer to attend it better, his firm body close enough that you could feel the heat, heart hammering once more when he blew gently across the gash, his lips almost brushing your skin.

"Why are you here Steve?"

"I came to convince you to come back home."

"It's not home Steve. It is a compound where colleagues live and train."

"It's my home." a soft whisper, and you know your words had stung. Regret and the throb of your heart ate at the silence.

"I can't."

"Why?" His hands resting either side of you as his blue eyes searched yours.

"I'll get hurt if I stay."

"You're hurt now."

"That's not how I mean." It was your turn to whisper, "You'll hurt me." His frown was instant, expression pained as if you stabbed him square in his gut. "I want to build a future and you're always looking to the past." His eyes scrunched shut as you twisted the knife.

He said nothing just gathered a clean cotton ball, kneeled down and started to tend to your knees, one hand underneath cupping your calf keeping you still as he dabbed at the scrapes. Then after the longest time he simply said, "I want you home."

You both stayed silent as he finished his task. You gulped the last of the scotch while his fingers danced over your skin seeking out damage, once all cuts and grazes had been cleaned, he started examining your bruises. Gently moving limbs, this way and that, checking for more sinister injuries, broken bones, his hands finally finding their way back to your waist. You winced as his hands pressed against you, carefully he tugged the cami up to expose the bruise blossoming over your ribs, his fingers touching so tentatively, "I think they are broken."

"Cracked maybe."

"We need to go to a hos-"

"Steve I'm fine," reaching for his cheek, try as you might you couldn't hold back, the wall you'd build weak and crumbling and tears filled in your eyes. He broke your gaze, focusing back on your torso, leaning forward placing his lips to the spot, kissing across your broken body. You didn't stop him, instead carded your fingers through his blond hair. He stood then, to kiss your lips. It was soft and sweet and everything you'd imagined. But you had imagined more, you spread your legs tempting him closer, kissing him back more forcefully. He returned the urgency, though the yelp as your split lip was disturbed slowed you both. Steve's fingers inched up under your shirt, pushing it up, breast now exposed to the air you ached wanting him so desperately to touch you there, he's hesitating, knowing that once the move was made he couldn't go back. The line irrevocably crossed. Maybe you should have hesitated too, instead of running head on into the danger you had tried to escape, but now in the moment you didn't care. You wanted him, yearned for him.

When his thumb grazed your nipple, you shivered and melted into him, arms around his thick shoulders. His large hands becoming more assured, cupping and squeezing, you groaned as he rolled the pebbled peaks. As wonderful as it was, each and every movement fuelled your desperation and his too. He tugged up your vest, pulling it over your head, quickly followed with the removal of his own. His tanned chilled muscles beautiful and perfect but you focused on his belt buckle, fumbling to unfasten it. Steve was back kissing you, his firm flesh hot next to yours, his hands cradling your head as yours dipped down the front of his trousers and felt the hot firmness there. The evidence of his own yearning. Deep growls emanated from his chest as you stroked his hard cock, hand encircling his shaft pumping up and down. Steve lips broke their connection, resting his forehead to yours, eyes closed, lost to the pleasure of your touch.

"Let's go to the bedroom," you shook your head and gently squeezed him, "I can be more careful then."

"No, here." You knew it was probably a better idea to let him take you to bed, let him love you so softly and sweetly yet it was fear that stopped you. Fear that once you left the confines of the small bathroom the spell would be broken, and his reservations would take charge. You needed him, right then and there - and that was what you told him.

His hands dropped and hooked into the underwear, pulling them from you, then returned to his space between your legs, his fingers finding your clit, circling the sensitive nub before delving deeper, teasing your entrance. Head hazy from lust and medication, the ache and pains of your body were nothing to the needy tension coiling in your core, desire ever growing, consuming every thought and feeling. Your mewling caught by Steve's mouth when his fingers entered you, first one then the other, twisting and flexing and working you open. All the while your hands roamed his body, unable to settle - tangled in his hair, swept across the taught muscles of his back, down over his abdomen to the fine fair hair near his pelvis. You needed all of him, spent so long willing him to you and now you had him the very way you wanted most, and you couldn't get enough.

"I need you." you whimpered.

He removed his hands, pushed down his khakis and boxers, you wanted to see all of his magnificent, but his lips never left you, your tongues engaged in a dance he wasn't willing to end. It was a small sacrifice for soon you felt the tip against you, moving up and down your wet slit till neither of you could stand it any longer, he pushed forward. Your cunt wet and wanton still needed to stretch to accommodate his size, gradually inching his way into you, you're lightheaded and starry eyed when he finally reached the hilt.

He rocked slowly, his movements hesitant not you thought from the act but from his unwillingness to cause your battered body more discomfort. You settled your hands on his broad shoulders, encouraging him with your touch, your moans. It may have been that or the firm grip of his desire that caused him to quicken. Each thrust more wonderful than the next. Steve grabbed at the thickness of your thigh, pushing your leg out and up, you screamed not from the jolt to your tender ribs but from pure ecstasy, the new angle tilting you just right so his hard cock rubbed against that most magical spot. Again and again, thrust after thrust and the tight coil snapped and came for him, once and twice before he stiffened and throbbed within you.

Panting, Steve's head rested on your shoulder, his lips puckering now and then against your skin, you kissed him too, pecks to the side of his face, temple, hair.

"Are you okay?" his asked, voice raspy.

"I will be."

[redhead-batgal]

Type: One-Shot

Pairing: Fem! and Vigilante! Reader x Jason Todd/ Red hood

Content: cursing, a claustrophobic reader, little bit of angst, some fluff and a bit of violence

Y/N: Your Name, L/N: Last Name, V/N: Vigilante Name

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

Angry wasn’t a strong enough word to describe how you were feeling. Enraged, infuriated and pissed off came close but not close enough. This feeling was so strong and so vivid you could practically see it, hell you could probably taste it.

Unlike how most people describe anger, yours wasn’t a red. No it was white, an icy hot white that seemed to drench every single one of your senses. White was in the corners of your vision, It was clinging to every single sound, it was in each smell, sharp and clear. You could feel it dancing on your skin like electricity, it covered your tongue and coated your cheeks.

It was everywhere. 

And at the moment the icy white seemed to be invading your lungs and slowly turning into a dark black. Such a dark and dense color it began to be hard to breathe. You were in fact in the last place you’d like to be at the moment. Which just so happened to be locked in a closet. 

It didn’t help that you weren’t alone. While yes, being alone would mean you would have to go through it alone. Go through the feeling of all the walls closing in on you as the air gets thinner and your head begins to spin as your brain fries from panic, as your entire body began to spasm and you blacked out from hyperventilating. But at the moment you would have preferred to be alone rather then let him, see you go through all of that. It was bad enough he had seen you slip up the week before while on patrol. 

You had been patrolling with Batgirl and Black Bat, this was usually what you did. Since you didn’t get along very well with Robin, and Red Robin, well he scared you a tiny bit due to one patrol in which you saw him consume ungodly amounts of caffeine. You couldn’t keep up with Nightwing and were informed by Robin that Batman thought you talked to much. Batgirl and Black Bat seemed to to be the perfect fit.

However on the night in question you sort of wished they hadn’t been. It would have been easier to explain why you messed up and he wouldn’t be able to hold it over your head. It had been a dumb move but you were bored, patrol had been relatively quiet with Black Bat taking care of nearly any threat that appeared before you or Batgirl could even respond to the comm. Oracle had just informed the three of you to be on the look out for Penguin. He had been recently making many trips to a abandon warehouse. The three of you had been asked to make sure nothing happened. Of course you decided that divvying up assignments would be perfect so all three of you could see some action. Neither Black Bat nor Batgirl had argued so you each took an area to watch. 

It had nearly been an hour since you had spilt up. There was no action on your end. You had just begun to give up hope when

“I see Penguin,” Batgirl whispered into the comm.

Excitement coursed over your veins and you found yourself bouncing up and down, you nearly threw yourself across the rooftops so you could join Batgirl in the fight. However-

“It looks as if he’s just casing the place... somethings off. What do you say Black Bat? Is something off?” 

You didn’t want to hear that, Penguin was here, obviously something was happening more then likely it was illegal and you were itching to punch someone, Shaking your head you bounced from the balls of your feet to your heels. 

One click came over the comm from Black Bat. She, agreed with Batgirl, leaving you the odd man out... well odd woman.

“I think we should just wait for now,” Batgirl remarked.

Begrudgingly you agreed, at the moment nothing was happening and you knew that if you charged in fists swinging and weapons raised Batman would have your head. 

“Fine.” You sighed

It took you a minute but you moved yourself so that you could watch Penguin without “technically” leaving your post. Penguin stood a couple hundred feet from the door to the warehouse, surrounding him was close to twenty goons.  He appeared to be talking to them and looking at his watch, suddenly one of the goons stepped up to him and whispered in his ear. Penguin nodded and waved a hand. All of the goons including himself began to move into the warehouse. 

There were upsides and down sides to this. 

Downside number one: You couldn’t see them anymore

Downside number two: This could be a trap

However there were more upsides then down.

Upside number one: You got to move into the warehouse

Upside number two: More then likely this was some kind of deal going down and you would get to punch a dude in the face

Upside number three: You were finally gonna see some action. 

Lowering yourself into a crouch you quickly spoke into the comm.

“I’m gonna go in.” “V/N, don’t. Something about this doesn’t seem right.” 

“I’ll be fine, besides how else are we supposed to see what’s going on?” 

There wasn’t a reply, though your weren’t really paying attention close enough to notice. You had begun bounding your way towards an open window you had spotted earlier while scanning the perimeter of the building. You vaulted in through the window just barely making it; internally you thanked Nightwing for insisting upon doing acrobatics for part of your training and made a mental note to ask him for some more lessons later. 

The warehouse wasn’t completely empty, it had two levels, the top was covered in boxes filled with packing peanuts. You briefly remembered Red Robin saying something about this place being owned by a former packing company, however at the time you weren’t really paying attention. In your defense Red Robin, at the time, had an mini army of at least fifty cups of empty coffee at his feet. 

Creeping past the boxes you settled yourself in between two large ones watching at Penguin and his goons stood in the middle of the room. 

“Where is he boss? Didn’t he say he’d be here?” One of the goons asked with a slight sneer.

Another rolled his eyes and scoffed, “I wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t show, would make the boss look like an even bigger idiot.”

Penguin shot the man a look then he raised his umbrella, opened it slightly and a gunshot rang out. The goon fell down dead, a tense feeling came over you however, instead of jumping down and trying to apprehend him you stayed where you were. Someone else was coming, you may be impulsive at times but you weren’t a complete idiot. 

It wasn’t long before you heard doors open, it hadn’t occurred to you that the comms might not be working, you just thought that Black Bat and Batgirl were just either hiding as well somewhere in the warehouse or were waiting for you to say something. 

You can’t say that you weren’t surprised when you saw him. As far as you heard he was going straight, hell you where then when he told Batman himself that he was going to follow the Bat rules. You wished it didn’t hurt as much as it did, but seeing Red Hood walk into the warehouse stopping just before the center felt like someone shot you. 

He was alone and you could tell from his body language that this wasn’t exactly a friendly meeting, that and the fact that all of Penguin’s goons drew there weapons at the sight of him. 

“You rang?” Red Hood remarked.

Penguin narrowed his eyes and looked Red Hood over. He lowered his umbrella and took a step forwards.

“You came alone?”

“Does it look like I have backup?” 

Penguin didn’t reply, he just looked up and began to look around the second floor. For a moment you thought he spotted you, but he kept scanning the floor. After looking it all over he looked back to Red Hood, then remarked, 

“Search it.”  

Your stomach dropped and you knew you had to get out of there, normally you wouldn’t mind jumping into a fight, but Red Hood’s business was his own. No matter how much it hurt and no matter how much you wanted to know, it was none of your business. 

Slowly pushing yourself to your feet you waited until Penguin’s goons began to climb the stairs. Turning to go back the way you came you found yourself face to face with Scarecrow. 

Of course it just had to be Scarecrow, the one villain who had a toxin that could leave nearly everyone incapacitated. 

“Shit.”

Scarecrow laughed slightly remarking, “What do we have here?”

The next thing you knew something was being sprayed in your face. Instinctively you backed away from the liquid coming at you. Taking four steps back you suddenly noticed that the ground wasn’t beneath your foot anymore. Then you stumbled backwards and began to fall. 

After that everything was a blur, you faintly remember hearing Red Hood shout,

“Damn it.”  

Before everything disappeared and the nightmares took over. You awoke the next morning only to discover that had it not been for Red Hood you would have died. A rookie mistake, Scarecrow had snuck past into the warehouse as you were watching Penguin. Had you been paying attention to your surroundings instead of trying to find a reason to jump into the fight, you wouldn’t have been caught so off guard. 

Not paying attention to your surroundings also got you into the mess you were currently in. 

You, had been avoiding him, Red Hood- Jason Todd ,for the past few days. Not only was it embarrassing that you made such a dumb mistake but, the fact that you had to be rescued got under your skin. You prided yourself on not being a damsel in distress yet it seemed that you had times where you were one. It didn’t help that you felt violently angry at him, he was supposed to be going straight and yet he was meeting up with Penguin and Scarecrow. Every time you saw him you turned and nearly ran in the either direction. It had been working just fine until this evening.

You had been in the library of Wayne manor, grabbing a book off the shelf when Jason came in. Seeing him you felt a sharp spark of white anger, however instead of acknowledging his presence you decided to ignore him. A poor choice really, a petty one, and at the moment you didn’t care. 

You began to browse the shelves when you spotted him moving towards you. Continuing to ignore him you moved down the aisle. He followed and you turned sharply moving into the next aisle. 

“Y/N.”

You almost looked up, you almost blew it, however after many months of ignoring a persistent Tim Drake and an even more persistent Damian Wayne, you learned how to ignore someone when they called your name. 

Moving down the aisle towards the back of the library, you should have noticed Tim loitering in the corner and Dick at the very end of the last aisle. But you didn’t, you were too keen on keeping away from Jason.

“Y/N, are you seriously avoiding me?” 

You couldn’t keep it together, every fiber of your being wanted to shout YES, Yes! of course. Why wouldn’t you be avoiding him, you were angry with him, so very righteously angry... or so you thought. 

You made it to the end of the aisle and you stopped, had you been paying attention you would have noticed the open door just behind you and how Tim was right behind Jason as he got closer. You went to leave, to move to yet another aisle when Dick moved into your path. 

You side-stepped in a hope to slip past him but he followed you. Letting out a frustrated grunt you gave him a slight glare. 

“Move Dick, I need to get pass.” 

“Sorry Y/N, but no.” 

You blinked and raised an eyebrow in confusion, Dick took a step forwards and took the books from your arms. You opened your mouth to shout protests when he shoved you straight into the room behind you. Your back bounced against the wall and your stomach flipped as you realized it was a closet. A second later you saw Jason stumbling towards you. 

It seemed that he too got shoved into the closet, he slammed into you and you once again hit the back wall. The door slammed shut and you heard a faint click. Your stomach dropped and suddenly everything was dark. 

“You two,” Dick remarked from the other side of the door, “are going to make up and you are not coming out of there until you do.” 

You felt Jason pull away from you and then heard quiet cursing's. A light flickered on and you saw how small the room was, it was just the two of you alone together in a very tiny room. All the air went from your lungs and it began. You sank to the ground as the world around you began to spin. 

Instantly Jason was sitting across from you not fully seeming to understand you were having a panic attack. And that lead up to this moment the anger was being taken over by the panic. Your hands were shaking and you eyes closed, you could feel his gaze on you as you tried to steady your breathing. But everything was spinning and the enclosing walls followed you, dancing on your eyelids as you felt your empty stomach revolt against you. Had you eaten something you would probably be hurling it up. Instead your entire body shook as you pushed back dry-heaving's. 

Clenching your fists you let your nails dig into your skin trying your hardest to let the pain yank you out of the attack. But as your palms became slick with blood nothing happened. Opening your eyes you felt a fierce wave of panic come over you as you frantically looked around, trying your hardest to find your way out. 

You wanted to lunged towards the door, but you were stuck. The room was so small, you could feel Jason’s legs pressed against yours, your heart began to beat erratically and you swung a bleeding fist towards the door. Weakly banging against it you wanted to cry out but the words caught in your throat. So you decided to try and bang your fist against any and every thing you could, starting with the walls that seemed to be getting closer and closer with every breath. 

“Woah, woah, woah. Sweetheart calm down,” Jason remarked grabbing onto your wrist. 

You shook your head feeling tears beginning to form in your eyes, hands shaking even harder you felt your entire body begin to shutter. Squeezing your eyes shut you choked back sobs. Pressing your fists your eyes you tried to force back the tears. A heavy feeling cloaked your lungs and it felt as though you were trying to swallow a brick. 

You felt hands on your wrists, gently pulling them away from your face. Your eyes flew open and you began to once again look around erratically.

“Hey,” Jason said softly, “hey Y/N, look at me. Hey look at me, Y/N.” 

You forced yourself to focus on Jason, he locked gazes with you and then you tried to continue to look for a way out.

“Eyes on me doll,” He stated and you looked back at him, “that’s it, Atta-girl. Now breathe with me, innnnn and outtt.” 

He slowly began to breath and you took a deep breath in keeping your eyes on him, then let it out. Jason nodded and you breathed with him for a little while, slowly calming down ever so slightly. Still shaking however much calmer, he let go of your wrists and you clench your fists again. 

“Your safe, don’t worry. Everything’s gonna be okay. I’m gonna get us out of here alright?” 

At first you didn’t respond, then Jason pressed his forehead against yours and you could see his eyes, you were closer then you’ve ever been before. They were a pretty color, a greenish-blue, though at the moment they looked more green then blue. You also noticed how he had very light freckles across his cheekbones. If you weren’t freaking out you would have blushed, been embarrassed by how close he was, you would have probably taken a mental note about the freckles and how beautiful his eyes were. However, all you could think about was how small the room was. 

Very gently touching your forearms, Jason stared you dead in the eyes.  “Alright?”

You could only nod and grab onto his shirt in return. He blinked for a moment before his hand was off of your arm and around your waist. 

“Is this-”

You nodded once again before he could finish his question, he pulled you in closer, your legs squishing against each others as you pressed you head against his chest and closed you eyes. All you wanted was to get out of there, to be able to breathe and stop panicking. You felt Jason pull you into his lap and then he began banging on the door. 

“I swear to fuck that if you to dumbasses don’t open up this damn door I’m going to murder you in your sleep.” 

You could hear Tim and Dick quietly talking on the other side of the door. Probably contemplating whether or not they should open up. Merely thinking about the door make your heart pick up pace again and your restarted breathing quickly. Jason hesitated before he banged on the door again shouting,

“If you don’t open this door right fucking now, I’m going to break it down.” 

You heard cursing coming from the other side of the door and then a click, your eyes flew open and you watched as the door swung open. Lunging forwards you tumbled out of the closet. Air filled your lungs but you didn't stop there. No, you scrambled to your feet and went barreling out of the library down the stairs and out the door. Once you made it outside you took a deep breath in, fresh air sharply stung your lungs and you nearly collapsed into the grass crying with relief. 

It had been a lesson of sorts for you, learn to watch your surroundings... and don’t assume things. You didn’t exactly know what was going on at the warehouse but you did know that despite your previous disbelief, you believed Jason. He was going straight now, staying clean and following Bruce’s rules. Because there was no way he could be nice enough to help you through a panic attack, get you out of a closet and... save your life all while being bad and killing people. 

Though you’d never admit it, you might be a little biased, after all you might have a teeny, tiny, eensy-weensy little crush on him. It didn’t help that you found yourself wanting to spend more time with him, of course it wouldn’t be locked in a closet but... it wasn’t so bad. Being alone together. 

Blinking you lay down on the grass staring up at the sky, there were no walls here to come in on you, nothing really to suffocate you. Closing your eyes you took in deep breaths and let them out. You heard the sound of a door opening and the grass crunching slightly. Opening your eyes you saw Jason standing above you.

“You okay?”

“Much better now, thank you.” You replied taking in yet another breath

He nodded and looked as if he were about to turn and go when he let out a sigh. Closing your eyes you waited to hear the sound of him leaving, it never happened. Peeking an eye open you found him staring at you.

“You know Penguin asked to meet with me that night. He said it was a peace meeting… turns out he and Scarecrow planned to ambush me.”

You blinked in confusion. You hadn’t told anyone that you saw him in the warehouse and as far as you were concerned everyone thought he just swooped in and rescued you. Something you suddenly realized he was doing a lot of. Why was he explaining what happened to you.

“You didn’t have to tell me that,” You began as you gave him a confused look, “it’s not really my business.”

Jason shrugged then rubbed the back of his head. Nodding he remarked,

“Yeah, but I just thought you should know I am going straight. Following the old man’s rules and all.”

This only confused you more.

“Why? I didn’t tell anyone that you were meeting Penguin, and I wasn’t planning on it.”

Jason shrugged as he turned to leave, pausing for a moment he sighed.

“I don’t know doll, I just don’t like the idea of you seeing me as a bad guy.”

A weird feeling began in your chest, it wasn’t like butterflies or any kind of fluttery things. It was a warm and soft kind of feeling.

Smiling up at him you rolled your eyes and said,

“Well Jason Todd, I could never see you as a bad guy.”

He blinked and then smiled back shaking his head.

“That makes me very happy, Y/N L/N.”

With that he walked away and the warm feeling began to spread from your chest throughout your entire body all the way down to your toes and up to your ears.

It seemed it wasn’t as small of a crush as you wanted to believe. Feeling a slight blush begin on your cheeks, you covered your face as you realized being alone with him wouldn’t be so bad. As long as you were alone together

[wintervvidow]

apricity pt. two

apricity - the warmth of the sun in winter

warnings: angst, blood, violence,

pairing: bucky barnes x female oc

word count: 2,956

A/N: part two is here! I did unintentionally rush through this chapter because I am so excited to start the civil war segment of this story. feedback is welcomed, let me know how you are liking it! thank you for reading!

MASTERLIST

Bucky’s cheek stung after the third slap from Pierce, the flesh bright red and warm to the touch. He continued fighting his restraints as he had been for the past hour. He had just been wiped, HYDRA needed to start fresh. Sweat trickled from his hairline to his jugular as he yanked and squirmed in the chair.

Alexander lost his patience an hour ago, Bucky hadn’t stopped talking about the girl on the bridge, “She doesn’t love you! If she did, she would have come back for you. We’re trying to correct the world, and we need you to do that. You want to be useful, don’t you?”

Bucky stared ahead emotionless, ignoring Pierce’s words. She loved him. Her eyes told him so, the look on her face from the bridge continued to haunt him even after being reprogrammed. He knew her. She was good. She was home.

A hand came down against Bucky's face again, harder than the last, “You are an asset. She is what we are fighting against. The world deserves freedom and that is what HYDRA is doing. You don’t do your part and I can’t do mine.”

Bucky softly murmured, voice raw from screaming, “But I knew her.”

Alexander clenched his fist as he stood from his chair placed in front of Bucky, “Wipe him again.”

Soon the air was filled with Bucky’s screams again, torturous and raw. Brock Rumlow looked on in silence, taking in the sight before him. This, he could work with.

~

The team consisting of Florence, Steve, Natasha, Sam, Maria, and Fury were littered throughout the vacant underground room, lights dim and the air heavy with stale humidity. Steve and Sam stood while the remaining few were seated at a long conference table. Fury had documents scattered in front of him, Maria with a laptop, typing away intently.

Fury held an image of Pierce from the ’80s in his hand, “This man declined the Nobel Peace Prize. He said peace wasn’t an achievement, it was a responsibility.” Fury threw the picture onto the table, “See, it’s stuff like this that gives me trust issues.”

Natasha speaks from her chair next to her fellow redheaded friend, a solemn expression on her face, “We have to stop the launch.” Alexander was planning on using Project Insight, which consisted of three helicarriers that patrolled the Earth to eliminate threats, deployed after the Battle of New York, only this time it was being planned to be used as a way for HYDRA to eliminate any threats to themselves. The operation was now turned against them.

Fury looked at Natasha with an eyebrow raised, “I don’t think the Council’s accepting my calls anymore.” He flipped open a briefcase, revealing three data chips.

Behind Florence, Sam spoke with arms crossed tightly over his chest, “What’s that?”

Maria flipped her laptop around, showing the team a diagram of data, “Once the helicarriers reach 3,000 feet, they’ll triangulate with Insight satellites, becoming fully weaponized.”

“We need to breach those carriers and replace their targeting blades with our own.” Fury gestured to the case in front of him.

Maria flipped her laptop back around, “One or two won’t cut it. We need to link all three carriers for this to work because if even one of those ships remains operational, a whole lot of people are gonna die.” The entire team grimaced.

All eyes were on Fury as he spoke, “We have to assume everyone on those carriers is HYDRA. We have to get past them, insert these server blades. And maybe, just maybe we can salvage what’s left.”

Florence and Steve shared a look, Florence knew Steve wouldn’t let that happen, “We’re not salvaging anything. We’re not just taking down the carriers, Nick. We’re taking down S.H.I.E.L.D.”

Fury snapped back at Steve, “S.H.I.E.L.D. had nothing to do with this.”

“You gave me this mission, this is how it ends. S.H.I.E.L.D.’s been compromised. You said so yourself. HYDRA grew right under your nose and nobody noticed.” Steve’s face was set, his entire body taking on the posture of command.

Fury gestured around the room with his hands before setting them back on the table, “Why do you think we’re meeting in this cave? I noticed.”

Steve’s face remained cold, “How many paid the price before you did?” Florence read between the lines, she knew what he was asking and it felt like a punch to the gut.

Fury bowed his head as Florence looked away, “Look, I didn’t know about Barnes.” No one did.

Steve scoffed, “Even if you had, would you have told me? Or would you have compartmentalized that too? Like Florence.”

“Hey, she did what she had to. You did not go through what she did.” Florence looked to Fury with kindness in her tired eyes, silently thanking him.

Steve interrupted the tender moment, continuing his speech, “S.H.I.E.L.D., HYDRA, it all goes.”

“He’s right. It all has to go.” All eyes darted to Maria, a silent understanding that Steve was right. This was the beginning of the end.

Fury looks around, eyes landing on Sam, “Don’t look at me.” Sam nods his head to Steve, “I do what he does, just slower.”

Steve stood at the head of the table, staring at Fury as he leaned back in his chair, “Looks like you’re giving the orders now, Captain.”

The team was given their tasks, parting their separate ways before the mission.

Florence found Steve outside, standing on the bridge lost in thought.

Florence sided up next to him, “Hey, I know you probably hate me right now, but-”

Steve cut her off, turning to face her, “I don’t hate you. I don’t. I’m just struggling to wrap my head around the fact that he’s been alive this entire time and you haven’t told one person. Not even me.”

“Steve, I tried. After I ran, I tried to go back for him but he wouldn’t let me; told me to run and to never come back for him. So I had to go into hiding. Seventeen years Steve. It’s not like I could walk into a government building and tell them without HYDRA catching wind. Hell, I could have been walking straight back into HYDRA. You have to understand that everything I’ve done has been to protect him. Everything.” By the end of the redheads’ speech, she was choking back tears, hands trembling at her sides. She bit her lip to quell the emotions running through her.

Steve placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, “I know, I know. I’m sorry.”

Silence fell over the two friends as both reminisced on the past, staring off into space.

Flashback:

Florence climbed the stairs behind Bucky and Steve to Steve’s family home. The mood was somber, Florence’s black funeral dress grazing her ankles as she stepped up the last step, standing next to Bucky.

“We looked for you after. My folks wanted to give you a ride to the cemetery.” Bucky’s tone was soft as he spoke to the heartbroken Steve.

“I know. Kinda wanted to be alone.” Steve stared at the ground as he spoke, never making eye contact with either Florence or Bucky.

Florence cocked her head to one side, gaze softly inquisitive as she looked at the small-statured man in front of her, “How was it?”

“It was okay. She’s next to dad.” The blonde’s tone was monotonous and quiet, understandably so.

Bucky shrugged his shoulders, “I was gonna ask-”

Steve cut him off as he reached his front door, hands fumbling in his pocket for the key, “I know what you’re gonna say, Buck, I just-”

“You can put the couch cushions on the floor, like when we were kids. It’ll be fun, all you gotta do is shine my shoes, maybe take out the trash.” Bucky reached down to move a brick, grabbing the key to the door and handing it to Steve, “Come on.”

Steve took the key, finally looking him in the eye, “Thank you, Buck. But I can get by on my own.”

Florence looked to Bucky, silently telling him to comfort their friend. Bucky nodded, speaking again, “The thing is, you don’t have to.” Bucky’s large hand clapped Steve on the shoulder, “Cuz me and Florence? We’re with you till the end of the line, pal.”

The moment was broken up by Sam, approaching the two old friends, “He’s gonna be there you know.”

“We know.” Both Steve and Florence were painfully aware of that fact.

“Look, whoever he used to be and the guy he is now, I don’t think he’s the kind you save. He’s the kind you stop.”

Steve looked to Sam, “I don’t know if I can do that.” Florence knew she couldn’t. Everything she has ever done, Bucky has always crossed her mind- how to help him, save him, protect him; always concerned about his well-being. And now she was forced to go against him.

“Well, he might not give you a choice. He doesn’t know either of you.” Sam twisted the knife with his last sentence, Florence and Steve grimacing at one another.

Steve spoke, looking at Florence for a last time then at Sam, “He will.” The blonde looked over the bridge, “Gear up. It’s time.”

The team changed into their gear and split up to where they were appointed: Natasha infiltrating a meeting with Alexander as a congresswoman with Fury as backup and releasing all HYDRA files, Maria preparing to order the attack to bring down the helicarriers, and Steve, Sam, and Florence to board the helicarrier to replace the targeting blades.

Sam called out to Steve as he walked away, "Wearing that?"

“No. If you’re gonna fight a war, you have to wear a uniform.”

~

Florence ran through the ship deck as fast as she could, doing her best to not get shot. Her earpiece kept her up to date, Natasha had just started releasing all of the files; her and Natasha’s secrets were now public along with the rest of HYDRA’s. Steve had already made it to the helicarrier, the redhead had gotten caught up with a HYDRA agent on the ground.

Florence was late to the party, Steve, and Bucky already furiously exchanging punches. She got to the top of the carrier as fast as she could with the help of Sam, her feet moving without thought. Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw Sam deploy his parachute after being kicked off by Bucky, now he was grounded.

Steve and Florence were on opposite ends of the carrier, Florence quickly making her way toward the two men.

Bucky threw Steve off of the top-level, Steve landing below with a thud, shield long gone in the Potomac beneath them.

Florence stared ahead, Bucky finally noticing her arrival. Both looked at the other in silence, gauging the situation at hand. His eyes were void of all emotion, this was not Bucky. The Soldier had a mission to kill her and Steve. Florence had a mission to keep Bucky alive, no matter the cost. If he was alive that meant there was hope to save him. You can’t save a dead man.

The silence was erupted by Florence, her mouth moving before her brain could stop, "Bucky, don't do this. You don't have to do this."

Tears welled up in her eyes unwillingly, the dam threatening to burst. Even if she knew deep down that he had been alive this entire time, a sliver of her always thought he was dead. Maybe her subconscious came up with that thought to protect herself, to make herself feel better about not being able to get him out. And she did try to get him out; she tried like hell. The first five years of her seventeen-year stint of being on the run was the worst. She was constantly moving locations, barely sleeping. And when she did sleep, she dreamt of Bucky- he was always screaming at her to go, save herself, and leave him behind. That was a detail that she would never tell Steve; if they even made it out alive of this situation. Steve wouldn’t understand, he was too stuck in his ways, he would have tried to get him out anyway. He would disregard any command in order to save Bucky even if the demand came straight from Bucky’s mouth. He would never truly understand why Florence did what she did. Maybe it was better that way.

He furrows his brow, lines etching themselves between his steel-blue eyes, "You're my mission."

A single breath is taken before he swings at her, metal arm glinting in the light as she dodges his punch, sweeping under his outstretched arm. She wasn't going to fight back. She couldn't.

Bucky turns violently, eyes hard, set on her. He lunges again as her weapon clatters to the ground of the helicarrier. Now Florence was defenseless. Although it's not like she was fighting back anyway. She'd let him kill her. If that kept him alive, she'd do it. It's not like he remembers her anyway, you can't mourn a person you don't remember.

She takes three steps back, her back colliding with the wall behind her as Bucky stalks forward. His breath fans across her face as he stands in front of her. She notices a stall in his motions, practically seeing his brain malfunction. His head was fighting with his heart.

A fist flies next to her head, Bucky purposely missing as he punches the wall again. His face twisted in pain, he was fighting himself. He couldn't do this. He knew her. His body knew her, pieces of memories played through his brain as he continued to punch the wall, a ring, her hand in his, dog tags being placed around her neck, all of it hurt. Florence was frozen in place as Bucky's fists continued flying next to her, "Go! You need to go!"

He remembered her.

Just as Steve ordered Maria to fire at the carrier, Bucky shoved Florence, causing her to tumble over the edge, joining Steve at the bottom of the carrier as it went up in flames. The carrier was under fire from all sides, jostling violently, causing Bucky to fall along with her. He landed away from Florence and Steve, being pinned under the debris.

Steve got to his feet, swaying as he stumbled over to Bucky who was struggling under the weight of the metal beam. Steve wedged the beam up, freeing Bucky. The girl remained on the ground, curling into a ball from the pain of the impact of the fall.

Florence rose to her feet as Steve told Bucky that he knew them. Bucky’s metal arm reeled back, punching Steve in the face as he screamed, “No I don’t!”

“Buck, we’ve known you your whole life.” Florence’s voice trembled as he hit Steve again, effectively knocking him to the ground.

Steve stood again, “Your name is James Buchanan Barnes.”

Bucky punched Steve in the face for a final time, the force knocking him off the carrier and into the river below. Florence scrambled to stand in front of Bucky, making him really look at her. To truly see her, to see what he was doing. Her face was bleeding, soot smudged across her forehead, sweat mixing with tears and blood flowing down her face.

“I’m not gonna fight you. I love you.” Florence’s body shook with sobs as Bucky tackled her to the ground.

His frame towered over hers, his body heaving as he spoke, “You’re my mission.” His fist flew next to her head, once, twice; never actually hitting her. Florence could see the struggle in his eyes. He was a broken man without a home.

“You don’t love me. You left me!” Bucky’s fist continued flying next to Florence’s head, the plexiglass cracking. Pierce’s words looped in his mind, she didn’t love him. She left him. She abandoned him. She was his mission.

Florence took a heaving breath in, “Yes I do, I do love you. I tried to get you out, I did, you wouldn’t let me, I tried, I-” Bucky interrupted her by pressing his flesh hand against her throat and applying pressure.

He leaned down, only inches between their faces as he applied more pressure around her throat and choking her. He grit his teeth as he choked her harder, brunette hair dangling in his face. This was it. This was Florence’s last chance, “It’s okay. It’s okay. I love you, it’s okay.” If these were the last words Bucky would ever hear from her, she was okay with that. She needed him to know that it was okay. He was doing what he had been forced to do, it wasn’t him. She needed him to know that she understood.

The hand from her throat disappeared, Bucky leaning back above her, staring at her with glassy eyes. Florence struggled for breath as she watched Bucky process her words. Debris fell around them, Bucky hovering over her to protect her from the falling particles. A large engine fell next to them, shattering the glass and sending Florence falling straight into the Potomac, Bucky hanging onto the carrier from a beam as he watched his lover fall into the water below.

Bucky dragged Steve out of the water with his metal arm while the other balanced Florence against his shoulder, ignoring the burning pain of his flesh arm as her head rested on his neck. He placed the two unconscious Avengers on the riverbank, taking one last look at them before he disappeared, becoming a ghost yet again.

FEEDBACK IS WELCOMED. IF YOU ENJOYED, PLEASE REBLOG!

taglist: @tanyaherondale   @lilyviolets   @jckie94

[johnsamericano]

𝓓𝓪𝔂 14:

ωσиg кυинαиg

23 days of NCT masterlist.

taglist: @notbeforelong @silent-potato @whathamelon @curieouscapt @unknown5tar @mrcarbonatedmilk @ajhdr @gjheaaa

warnings: use of weapons, violence.

“We got it!” The silence of the police station was abruptly interrupted by one Liu Yangyang.

“What?”

“I think we might have found the hitman’s next victim.” Everyone stood up from their seats, rushing to his desk to confirm what he’d just announced.

“Who is he?” Hendery pushed his coworker to the side, taking a better glance at the suspicious-looking man.

“He owes a few millions to the Lee family, just like the other five men did.”

“You’re a genius Yangyang.” In an act of excitement, Hendery kissed the top of his head, earning a joint gag from the rest of the office.

“He works at a bar downtown, there are no surveillance cameras there, so we're gonna have to guard the place.”

No one complained, after all, they were finally close to closing the case that had been disturbing them for months now. Nonetheless, Hendery seemed upset.

“What’s wrong?” His other colleague, Sicheng, asked.

“My anniversary with y/n’s next week. I hope we can catch them by then.”

After a long day of work, he came come to his dear fianceé, you. There was a brand new bouquet inside the vase of your kitchen, neatly arranged by you.

“Honey?”

“I’ll be there in a second!” You rushed out of the bathroom, engulfing him in a hug.

“How was the shop today? Lots of clients?” He inquired while kissing your temple, inhaling your fresh, flower-like scent.

“Well, you know, same as always.” He hummed. “But I’ve been working on the flower arrangements for our wedding, I’m almost done with the samples.”

Hendery had always thought being a florist suited you perfectly, you’d always transfer your energy to the arrangements you made, transforming them into something breathtaking.

“How about you?”

“That’s top secret.” You giggled, slightly hitting his chest. “Oh, by the way, when am I gonna meet your brother? We're getting married in less than three months.”

Your body visibly tensed at his question. Your brother was the only family you had, and yet, all Hendery knew about him was his age and name.

“I’ll try to contact him this week.”

Five days went by in the blink of an eye, Hendery having to guard the creepy bar downtown, occasionally sipping at his coffee to keep his body warm. He suddenly felt the urge to stretch his legs, exiting the discreet, black vehicle and walking to a nearby abandoned building.

He climbed the stairs, reaching for the rooftop in less than five minutes. He hadn't even opened the door when he heard the familiar sound of a weapon being charged. Was it the hitman? The rusty, metal door would for sure make some sort of noise if he opened it. Hendery decided to call Yangyang, notifying him about the possible situation in a low voice.

Yangyang assured some backups were going his way, giving him confidence enough to pull out his gun and burst the door open. A figure, all dressed in black, froze at the spot, a sniper between their hands.

“Turn around slowly and take your cap and face mask off.” The figure had no other option but to comply, getting rid of the items that kept their face covered. “W-what is going on here?”

What were you doing there?

“I’m sorry, Kunhang.” Not even trying to give a fight, you let go of the big gun.

“You were the one behind this all along!?” He was still pointing the gun at you, but it didn't matter anymore if he shot you, not if he looked at you like you were a monster. Which in a way, you were.

“My family needed my help and I-”

“Your family?” He cut you off. The sudden memory of Yangyang talking about the Lee family hitting him. “Lee y/n, Lee Taeyong’s sister.”

You wanted to get on your knees and ask for forgiveness, but he looked so hurt, so vulnerable that it had you glued to your spot.

“Did you even love me or was that a lie too?”

“No!” Not paying attention to the gun pointed at you, your unsteady legs took a few steps towards him. “P-please, don’t say that. I wanted so bad to push you away, to stop you from getting caught up in my shit, but I gave in. I just wanted to be happy, by your side.”

The place became silent, only the sound of wind accompanying you. Police sirens could be heard in the distance, getting louder with every passing second.

“Go home.” He saved the weapon, coming closer to you and cupping your cheeks, his eyes piercing yours intensely. “I’ll need you to shoot me and-”

“I won’t shoot you!”

“There’s no time, y/n. This way, they won’t doubt me, they’ll think I let you go because I was injured.” The sirens sounded closer. “Shoot me and go down the emergency stairs, surround the building and get to a crowded place. Make sure no one sees you.” He detached from you, tapping his chest slightly. “I’m wearing protection, don’t worry.”

“Kunhang, I don’t want to.”

“Grab your stuff and leave, now!”

With teary eyes, you zipped the bag containing the large weapon, pulling a small revolver out of your coat.

“I’ll be alright. I promise to be home by dinner and we can talk about this.” He knew what he was doing went against all of his values, but for you, he was ready to risk it all.

“I love you.” You cried out, trembling hands pointing the weapon at his chest.

“I love you too.”

Bang.

You ran as climbed as fast you could down the small stairs, not looking back at your agonizing fiancée, hoping his plan would work correctly. Even with his reassuring words, you couldn’t help but worry about his well-being.

As soon as you entered your shared home, you saved all your stuff in its usual hiding spot, taking a warm shower in an attempt to wash away all the remorse that plagued you.

It wasn’t until a few hours later, when the sound of the door filled the silent house, that you knew he was alright. He let you take care of the significantly big bruise over his left pec, hands brushing over your hair as your tears stained the wounded skin.

“All done.”

Despite what he’d said on the rooftop, no more questions were asked about the incident earlier. Hendery didn’t intend to know your family history, not when his duty was to punish them for their crimes. Instead, you spent the night hugging each other, talking about the details of your wedding as you silently vowed not to ever accept your family’s requests again, even if that meant losing them forever.

[corvus--rex]

The last one was the prequel to this one, which I actually wrote first. It's not even the beginning of the main story, but it was what I came up with first. Oh well. I wanted to do cyberpunk without it being Leakira (which I do love, I just wanted to do something different), and came up with this. I have played the shit out of Shadowrun tabletop, so a lot of it comes from that. And since it's part of the last post, it's still an Omegaverse :)

~*~*~*~

Lance backed away, raising his hands. “Hey, no need for that. I’m not even armed.”

The mercenary pointed with his weapon.

“Over here?” Lance asked, still playing the game. “Ok.” He walked over to the window of the high-rise. “Might want to watch that draft. Wouldn’t want to come down with something.”

His hard-wired comm picked up everything, making the assassin on the ledge outside chuckle. But he knew that it was his cue, and punched through the window feet first, his tech-enhanced boots forcing through the thick glass easily. The black monofilament blade glowed red with heat, cauterizing the sliced wound to the mercenary’s throat and killing him instantly. Lance pulled out a modified holdout pistol, taking out the overpaid mercenary that followed with perfect aim.

“Red! On your nine!” Lance yelled above incoming fire.

A small knife flew, catching the mercenary in the throat. Keith used his falling body as a springboard, launching himself at the next target. Both he and Lance heard the same thing over their comms.

“Comin’ in hot!” Shiro yelled.

Lance and Keith both knew what that meant. That meant that this semi-stealth mission was turning into a Russian stealth mission, and that it was coming in the form of Hunk’s gatling gun. Soon enough, they both heard the whine of a spinning barrel and the screaming of rapid laser fire. Mercenaries were still pouring in and the teammates knew that they would still have to fight their way out. Lance had already retrieved the files and uploaded Pidge’s traceless virus. All they needed to do was get out.

Keith spun in the air, knives flying, carving a path to the exit. As he turned, he caught sight of a mercenary coming up a little too quickly behind Lance. His violet eyes went wide, launching himself off walls, furniture, and bodies.

“BLUE!” he screamed as the mercenary drew a small pistol and fired.

Lance’s gasp caught in his throat, his free hand going to the exit wound in his chest and dropping to the floor. This was wrong. These were just mercenaries. And the Voltron Pack always wore heavily modified body armor. There was no way something so small should have been able to punch through that. In a blind rage, Keith hit the mercenary hard enough to pin him to the floor, drawing the ultraviolet hard-light blade he kept on his back. Pressing his thumb to a bioscanner on the hilt, the small knife expanded in an instant to the straight-edged ninjato, which he plunged through the mercenary’s chest plate. He turned the blade back, jamming it into its sheath.

“Blue’s down! We need evac! NOW!”

The laser bolt from the pistol meant that Lance’s wound was cauterized and he wouldn’t bleed out, but it didn’t keep him from going into shock. Keith barely had the presence of mind to retrieve both Lance’s and the mercenary’s weapons before returning to the marksman.

“Stay with me. Come on, Blue. Team’s coming. I need you to hold on. You’ll make it.” Keith was rambling, and he knew it. But he couldn’t help himself as he watched the light in his Alpha’s blue eyes dim.

The sound of electricity and the smell of ozone whipped past Keith’s senses, a small blur following. Several mercenaries dropped, the blur that was Pidge spinning, her electrified katar flying through the next throng. A powered whine and sharp crack felled a line of mercenaries, Allura quickly moving on to the next group with her whip. Knowing that backup had arrived, Keith focused on keeping Lance awake. The Alpha was only barely conscious, the bolt having blown straight through his lung.

“Come on, baby. Stay with me. Team’s here. We’re getting you out.”

Keith was desperately trying to keep his scent hopeful, but the fear and panic saturating his mate’s was overwhelming. Lance was afraid of dying, and it was looking like a very real possibility. The Alpha’s hand moved, a brief jerking spasm. Keith took it, pulling the tactical glove off and holding it to his face, softly kissing his mate’s palm.

“You’ll be ok. We’re getting out.”

Pidge came up, putting a gentle hand on the Omega assassin. “All clear. We need you to get him to the extraction point. Allura’s got the body of the one that got him.”

Keith hadn’t even noticed it was gone. But he had a new mission objective. Get his mate to safety. He shoved both weapons – Lance’s and the mercenary’s – into Pidge’s hands, and picked his mate up in a bridal carry, racing to the extraction point. Shiro was in the pilot’s seat of their VTOL, a specially built, modular one the Coalition named Atlas. Hunk and Allura were already onboard, Pidge bringing up the rear behind Keith. Allura rushed to help the Omega assassin. The limited medical supplies on the Atlas wouldn’t save Lance in the long run, but it was enough to get him back to base.

The Coalition Rebellion’s base was hidden within a high-rise owned by shell companies belonging to the financial backers of the rebellion. The three biggest supporters were Olkarion BioTech, owned and run by Claudia Ryner, a thin middle-aged woman who could flip between hard-ass CEO and a gentle maternal figure in a split second, Taujeer Chemicals, owned and run by a man only known as Baujal who never showed his face and always used a voice modulator, and The Garrison, manufacturers of weapons, armor, and vehicles, owned and nominally run by Ellen Sanda and more practically run by Cmdr. Iverson. They all wanted the megacorporation that ran the world, Daibazaal Industries, gone as much as everyone else.

The Atlas landed on the grounds of the Rebellion base, known only to the Coalition as the Castle of Lions. Medics were waiting to rush Lance to the medical floors, leaving Keith on the landing pad feeling like his soul had been ripped from his body. The rest of the Voltron Pack surrounded him protectively, and the worry, panic, and fear he’d kept carefully bottled up overwhelmed him and he dropped to the asphalt.

When the assassin woke, he was in a med floor bed. Pidge had set up a work station in the room, the weapon and punctured armor of the mercenary being run through her meticulous scanners. Hunk tinkered with Shiro’s cybernetic arm while Allura paced like a caged tiger. Keith sat up, a wave of dizziness making him lay down again. It got the attention of everyone in the room. Pidge adjusted the bed’s position remotely, allowing Keith to sit up without falling over. They were all at his side immediately.

“Surgery was successful,” Allura told him, “Lance will make a full recovery. He’s still out, and they want him in a completely neutral environment. The only medics allowed in are Betas.”

“I can’t see him?” Keith asked, worry and panic clouding his scent again.

“Not yet,” Shiro said, “He still needs to heal, and you know that pheromones can interrupt that process. Even a bonded mate’s.”

“I could probably get in, check up on him for you,” Pidge offered. There were few cases like Pidge where, even if the corporate-run nanny state hadn’t mandated sterilization for all Betas, she would most likely have done it anyway. The benefit in this case was that she was less likely to upset Lance’s healing.

“Please?” The Omega couldn’t keep the whining cry for his mate out of his voice.

Pidge nodded, placing a small hand on his arm.

“Oh!” Hunk said, darting over to the other side of the room. He came back with a high stack of blankets and pillows. “The medics don’t want you moving around much yet, but we figured you’d feel better with at least a small nest.” He went back, returning with another blanket in a sealed bag. “I went and got this one from your room.”

Keith didn’t need elaboration. He instinctively snatched the bag from Hunk’s hands, holding it close. They were his pack, and fully understood the state he was in. Pidge queued further processes for her scanners and left to check on Lance. Hunk went with her, as he was the only other Beta in the pack and could back her up when they got there. Shiro and Allura were the pack’s other Alphas, and while they wanted to see their packmate safe, they knew they couldn’t be near Lance. They could, however, ensure the safety of their pack’s Omega, and so stayed with him, only assisting with the nest when it was asked for.

Even with limited nesting materials, Keith still was able to build one that made him feel more secure, the soft fluffy blanket from the nest he shared only with his mate adding to the security. The shrill, distressed trill coming from him died down only when he fell asleep, wrapped in his mate’s scent and knowing that his pack’s two other Alphas were nearby.

When Keith woke next, Hunk and Pidge were back. He shot up in his nest, a soft questioning noise rolling up his throat.

“He’s doing better,” Pidge answered. She turned around. “It’s been about six hours since we left to check on him. They said that you can probably see him tomorrow morning, which is in,” she checked the time, “About four hours.”

“You should eat and rest,” Allura suggested softly. “If you’re exhausted and upset when you see him, it could make things worse.”

Keith knew she was right, but it didn’t make it better. He wanted his mate, his Alpha. He’d had to watch when he was shot, when he fell to the floor, had to watch as his beloved Alpha desperately clung to life. He wanted them to curl up in their nest together, safe in each other’s arms. The memories caused another distressed sound, this one harsher, even more shrill than before. The pack snapped to look at him, knowing that if Keith got any more worked up, he could go feral. It was a state more closely associated with Alphas, but it was certainly possible for Omegas. The kind of trauma he’d experienced that day combined with being separated from his mate was making things dangerous for him. Pidge dropped what she was doing, climbing into the nest. She was a packmate and therefore safe, but she was about as far removed from anything like Lance as possible and, therefore, was the safest person to be close to Keith. He curled up, still upset, but allowed her to hold him, reinforcing that he was safe.

It didn’t take long for him to fall asleep again.

He was woken next by Pidge gently shaking him, breakfast in hand. He accepted it, a soft sound escaping, his Omega brain still in control. After breakfast, that Pidge actually joined him in his nest for, she called for a medic, who came in and checked Keith over, clearing him for release. Pidge stuck close to him, going along to the next floor where Lance was still under medics’ care. But he was awake, and Keith darted inside, Pidge staying by the door.

The Omega curled up on his mate’s bed, softly nuzzling him. Lance ran his fingers through his mate’s hair, a large medical patch monitoring his biorhythms across the back of his hand. After a few minutes when Keith still hadn’t said anything he looked to Pidge, concern and confusion written across his face.

“He nearly went feral last night. Hasn’t spoken a word since then,” she explained.

The medics tried to make Keith leave when they were alerted to Lance’s shifts in his system caused by the sudden fear for his mate, but the Alpha insisted on his Omega staying. Pidge left, knowing Alpha-Omega mate-pairs in general and her packmates in particular. She knew how important their connection was and that if they were separated both would most likely turn feral, attacking anyone who got too close that wasn’t their mate. Shiro and Allura stood guard over the room from the outside, preventing anyone from entering they didn’t approve. One nurse claimed that she was just there to check up on Lance, but her scent told them she was lying and that she was most likely there to try and separate the pair again. Shiro’s tall, broad frame firmly kept her out. Pidge and Hunk had brought the nesting materials from both Keith’s hospital room and their own apartment in the Castle. Lance’s biorhythm readings were calmer than the medics had seen, and they stopped bothering him and his mate.

It wasn’t until the end of the day when Keith finally spoke for the first time. “I thought I’d lost you.”

“For a while, so did I,” Lance admitted, “But you got me out in time. You saved me, mi amor. We’re ok.”

Curled up in their temporary nest, wrapped in his Alpha’s arms, long, elegant fingers carding through his hair, Keith was able to sleep peacefully for the first time since the start of the mission.

~*~*~*~

Links to the rest of the series:

1 | 2 | 3* | 4 | 5* | 6* | 7 | 8 | 9* | 10 | 11 | 12* | 13 | 14 | 15* | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19* | 20* | 21* | 22*

[re-diesirae]

17. Leon

Orchids. Claire could come out with really unexpected things sometimes. She didn't look like the sort of girl that liked flowers, but he found that little fact amusingly adorable. If he could make out something positive about being stranded in there, it was that he was getting to know Claire better.

Guess now I know what flowers I should buy her. Wait, why would I buy her flowers?

"I think it should be safe to go out. The sun must be out now. Let's wait for Chris and the others outside."

"Yeah. Sounds fine to me."

The pair picked up their weapons and headed out of the tower. Their way outside was calm since they found no hostiles in the building. Leon guessed that they needed to "thank" their cannibalistic friend for clearing the place for them.

The fresh air hit them as soon as they had reached the open space. Monsters aside, the place was actually nice. Suddenly, the sound of an aircraft made them look up, right on time to see Chris and company making their triumphant entrance.

"Well, look at that. We've got a welcoming party!" Barry laughed when his feet touched the ground, "What? No music and fireworks?"

"Sorry to disappoint you, Barry. Guess we must have forgotten to get them while we were trying to stay alive," Claire replied with a playful smile.

"Ah, you can make up for that later, little Red," he replied with a smile.

"Claire!"

Leon stepped aside to let the siblings have their moment. It was almost funny to see how Chris lifted his sister from the ground to pull her into a choking embrace. The man looked so out of character, but Leon knew that the Redfields had a close relationship, and it was heartwarming to see them interact. It almost erased the terrible weight that had long befallen these siblings.

"God...I was so worried," Chris sighed in relief when he finally put her down.

"I know you were. I am fine, but what the hell happened to your arm? Don't tell me you let one of those B.O.W's get you. How disappointing, my dear brother."

"Never mind. I'll earn your pride later today," Chris snorted, "And in my defense, it got it worse than I did. But for real, are you sure you are alright?"

The older Redfield pushed his sister back to take a look at her. Leon knew the man wouldn't find anything more than scratches and bruises adorning her pale skin. Leon knew that because he, too, had checked her for any obvious injury, but the visible wounds weren't what he was concerned about, but rather the invisible ones. He still wasn't sure about the implications of the concussion.

"I am ok. I just hit my head a little, I think. If you got some painkillers in your first aid kit, I'd gladly make use of them."

Chris looked like he wanted to say something, but he seemed to rethink it, and instead, he pulled out a small bottle from one of his vest pockets and gave it to her.

"Here, but you'll need to eat something first. Those are a little strong."

"And I since you made the suggestion, I guess you brought me something to eat," Claire winked at him as she picked the bottle.

"Well, I don't imagine your hosts left your food lying around."

"Well, we did find a storage room with some canned food, right, Leon?"

"I must admit we've had a lot of luck this time. I guess Claire is a good luck charm," Leon smiled, and Claire rolled her eyes.

"Thanks for keeping her safe, Leon."

"Hey, I can take care of myself," Claire said, punching his healthy arm.

"I should be thanking her, for keeping me alive." Leon smiled, "there's no need for gratitude. We are all friends, and we help each other as much as we can."

"Yeah, yeah...that's nice. So how about we get that breakfast and finish this mission asap?" Barry complained.

The so-called breakfast consisted of some protein bars. The taste wasn't bad, but it definitely didn't compare with a real breakfast, but with all his years of service, Leon had learned not to be so picky about some things. The bars would fill the physiological need for energy, and they were easy to carry, so they were a practical meal for missions. Leon had grown used to eating them, but he smirked at Claire when the woman made a disgusted face after the first bite.

As they ate the soldier styled breakfast, Chris and Jill had begun the strategy meeting. Chris had brought eight men from B.S.A.A as a backup, without counting the chopper's pilot. Jill, Barry, and he were from the Elite Alpha, and the remaining five belonged to the Alpha team.

"So...studying the blueprint that you send us, there are three possible entrances to the underground facility. From the basement here; the library here or the common room in here." Jill said, pinpointing the spots.

"The information about the essays should be in the Research Center. We should try the common room's entrance," Claire suggested, "It's the most direct way to it and faster. The less time we spend there, the less likely they'll notice us."

"That is if the thing isn't blocked. What worries me now, however, is the condition down there. We don't know what monsters they kept or how dangerous they might be." Jill said, staring at the blueprints." We can guess we'll find at least one of the B.O.W's on the lists that Claire and Leon found, but there might be new specimens that were not listed."

"We'll stick together all the time. I don't want anyone wandering off on his own, understood?" Chris said to his men, " And that goes for you, too, Claire."

"I know, I know. I won't do anything reckless. I promise."

"Right, keep an eye on her, Leon."

"Get ready, everyone. We leave in 5. You two need proper gear. Come here.."

Leon glanced at Claire with a raised brow, and the redhead winked at him. After receiving a generous gift of gear and weapons, Leon finally felt more comfortable.

"That's right...Chris, we heard that you encountered a new type of B.O.W back in Hughesville."

"You don't miss a thing, huh? Guess Leon's friend filled you up already. I can't tell you much, but the creature was vicious and highly hostile. I took quite a lot of ammo and incendiary rounds to give it a scratch, but Barry's grenade put an end to it. B.S.A.A. The clean-up team probably took samples for study. You can ask about it later."

"Yeah, I was just wondering if there was a chance that it was the same strain that we encountered here."

"To tell that truth, I wouldn't be surprised." Chris sighed, shaking his head, "Ok, people. We are heading down. From here on, we are in high-risk terrain so keep your ears and eyes open. One mistake can cost your life or the team's. I'll be at a point along with Jill and Barry; Clemence and Riley, you two be at the sides while Miller, Hunter and Bailey will be at the rear. Leon and Claire, you two are stuck in the middle."

"Seriously, Chris?" Claire asked, crossing her arms, "You can't really think that Leon and I can handle those things, do you?"

"I don't doubt you can, but it's a strategic position. You two have been in harsh conditions for the past three days. I am sure your bodies won't be as sharp. Take it as a chance to rest."

"As if."

Leon chuckled. He put his hand on Claire's shoulder and smiled with a nod. He could understand Chris's reasoning: putting them in the middle would take a little of the weight from them. It didn't mean they could slack off, but at least they could catch a breath until the situation called for action. Claire let out a sigh and patted his hand.

"Ok, guess I'll let it pass."

The team headed to the main room, and, to both Leon's and Claire's disgust, they found the fresh bloodstains on the wooden floor. The man remembered the footage of the security camera they had seen and recalled that this had been the room where they had seen the B.O.W feasting on its prey.

"Well, someone didn't have much luck," Barry growled.

"Yeah, a bunch of Plaga infected locals." Leon replied, "We saw it through the surveillance camera a little before dawn. It was one of the new B.O.W's."

"So they really eat the other infected?" Jill said, perplexed as she walked to the fireplace and tainted around the bricks until she found the control panel. The woman began working to open the door.

"It seems like it is like that."

"That's crazy. I've seen those things killing each other, but cannibalism is a new thing." Barry said, staring at the bloodstain with disgust.

"They have never been very sane, to begin with, or they wouldn't make these damn monsters. Got it." Jill said, pushing back the control panel and stepping back, raising her gun.

"Trust Jill to open any lock," Barry smirked.

"I wasn't the B&E specialist for nothing," Jill winked at him.

The fireplace let out a screech as it pulled back, revealing a large metal door. The red light on the command box turned green, and the doors began to slide open. Their team had their weapons raised in case a monster jumped out of it, but the only thing beyond the door was a small square space: an elevator.

"Clear, let's move." Chris signaled, and they entered the elevator. The door automatically closed once the last man had stepped inside, and soon, it was moving down smoothly.

Leon couldn't help but feel a bit of deja vu. How many elevators heading to monster-filled facilities had he rode before? He had already lost the count. When it came to an abrupt stop, everyone raised their weapons as they watched the doors slowly slide open.

Chris stepped out with Barry. Both men looked around and then motioned them to move out. The place was clean, with no mutants, no zombies, and no living things either. To Leon, however, the stench of death was definitely in the air.

"At least there's light," Claire muttered to him, "Last time I was in a place like this, I could barely see my steps."

"The energy is still up. I guess our friends left in a rush," Jill commented.

"That if they actually left…" Chris commented.

Most of them probably hadn't. Their theory proved right as the group turned to the second corridor. There was blood splattered in the walls, more papers scattered on the floor, and Leon saw Claire bending to pick one.

"What's that?"

"Notes about a test subject, I suppose." She replied, picking another one, "Physiological changes took place two days after the first inoculation. There was no evidence of mental dysfunction yet and mutation seemed suppressed. Administration through multiple dosages showed up effective to inhibit immediate mutation. Anomalies in the blood seem to be a common treatment of the new strain," she read.

Leon looked at the papers, as well, and the blond raised an eyebrow with surprise.

"You know German?" he asked.

"Took a course during college. I work with an international salvation organization. Knowing many languages is useful."

Claire never stopped surprising him.

"These seem to be study records..." Claire said, looking through another bunch of papers.

"So those fuckers actually made a new strain," Barry growled.

"Does it say anything about the virus?" Chris asked.

"No details, I'm afraid. The report is incomplete. Some of the pages are gone, and they used codes."

Chris nodded.

"Ok, there is no need to find the rest of them if we can find the research data from the main computer," Chris said, "Let's get moving. We now know that we have hostiles down here. Stay sharp."

Leon caught Claire's worried look as she looked at her brother. They headed to the Research room, which was a couple of corridors beyond their current position. As they moved, Leon felt uncomfortable about the lack of monsters and the lack of corpses. They had come across a lot of bloodstains that were evidence of slaughter, but so far, they had not encountered the victims nor the attackers. Leon had a glimpse of Chris, and he knew that the older Redfield was having the same train of thought.

"This is the place." Jill said, checking the map, "Biomedical and Biohazard Department. What a name, huh?"

"It has a VIRUS written all over it." Barry mocked.

They entered the room with their weapons raised, but just like the rest of the facility, the place was empty. There weren't bloodstains, so at least they knew that the lab hadn't been the setting of slaughter, unlike other rooms they had passed. For an investigation department, Leon thought that the room looked simple: white walls, a set of computers, and two shelves- one filled with unknown contents and another one filled with files. There was a glass window that opened to what looked like a laboratory. The place was messed-up, but there was no blood in there, either. One of Chris's men, Clement, if he wasn't mistaken, rushed to the computer and began hacking into the system and copying all the information into the memory drive. The rest stood guard in case anything showed up.

The silence was unsettling as the only sound that filled the room was the typing. It felt unnatural, and it gave Leon the sensation that something was watching him, lurking in the shadows and waiting for its chance to strike. He saw Claire standing in front of the shelves; she was flipping the pages of one of the folders.

"Found something interesting?"

"You could say so. It seems like they were trying to make a new virus from multiple pathogens. These are viral genomes, but these are bacterial genes..."

"Why doesn't it sound new to me?"

"Yeah, I guess you must be sick of hearing it, right?"

Leon pulled out one of the folders and flipped it open. What he found inside wasn't a nice view. The first page had a picture of a woman with blonde curly hair and green eyes. Her skin was sickly pale, and her look lacked life; right next to the photo, Leon read the word FAILED.

Name: Marishka Sekinova, Subject CD:05X345

Treatment: Isolation BS-0314

Observations: patient showed fever in the first 3h after the inoculation followed by signs of mental degeneration that included symptoms similar to dementia. 48h after, she showed signs of mutation: epidermis began to degrade; muscular tissue was elongated, and the apparition of tumors in multiple parts of the body, which developed at an extremely high speed. 72h later, the mutation had extended to all the body, leaving the subject unrecognizable; signs of erratic behavior and high hostility began to appear. The subject had to be put into a reinforced isolation room to continue the monitoring, 96h later, the subject's vitality began to fall, and its body parts began to decay in a phenomenon that we've named "Rotting". The subject was found dead at 17:46 pm on July, 11th.

The file ended with a set of horrible looking pictures that showed up the evolution of the woman, so the photos went from pretty bad to horribly bad.

"Poor woman. These people really don't understand the term Bioethics. " Claire said sadly, "They have the files coded by colors: those white folders are Failed subjects, and the color tags must be the virus they were testing. Check what I found."

Claire handed him a folder. He flipped it open and just like the other file, the front page had a picture attached, this time it was the photograph of a woman with black hair, but instead of FAILED, the words: TO IMPROVE, were written. He turned the page and, like before, he found a set of pictures, but his eyes suddenly stuck in the last one.

"It's...the thing that attacked us."

"Yeah, or at least a primitive version of it, but look what it says. According to this, the mutation caused them to be photosensitive. That explains why they only come out at night time."

"Just like monsters from a nightmare, huh?"

"Yeah…"

The lights in from the ceiling flickered, and he saw Claire lookup with a frown.

"Did you...hear that?" she asked.

"Hear what?" he replied. Leon was puzzled. He hadn't heard anything.

Claire did not reply as she stared back at the ceiling.

"It's done. I've copied all the files from the system captain." Clement said, breaking the silence.

"Good, time to get the hell out of here. Don't let your guard down yet. We still don't know if there's anything ready to attack us out there."

"Yes, Captain!"

Claire pushed the folder back into the shelf and turned to Leon.

"Time for this nightmare to end…" he said, and she smiled.

NOTE: if you guys want to come and chat about the fic, or just about CLEON in general. Feel free to drop by the discord and say hi! JOIN SERVER

[jasperswh0re]

Savior [Raylan Givens x Reader]

hihihi so im like super in love with this character and i haven’t seen like any writing for Timothy Olyphant Characters besides Cobb and Mickey... so i thought i would do that for our favorite U.S. Marshall, Mr. Deputy Raylan Givens

Might make this a series. Let me know if you wanna be tagged if I make another part!

Summary: You’re going about your daily errands at the bank when there’s suddenly a robbery. Luckily, a U.S. Marshall was inside and there to save the day. Gender neutral reader btw

Warnings: Gun use, swearing

---

You tapped your foot violently against the tiled flooring of the bank. In ten minutes you were to be at an appointment yet this line wasn’t moving an inch. The beat of your toes hitting the ground had you bouncing at insane speeds. You hated waiting.

“You doing alright there?” You heard someone say behind you. 

You flipped around to see a taller man wearing a cowboy hat. He was looking down at you, an amused glint in his eye. He was handsome and his country drawl was deep.

“Just in a hurry,” You shrugged and smiled sheepishly. He chuckled when you turned forward to see that the line still hadn’t moved.

“Aren’t we all?”

“Kentucky life can be one hell of a doozy.”

“You’re tellin’ me...” He sighed. He was scanning the area, as if he was searching for something. Though, you didn’t think much of it and held out your hand.

“(Y/n) (L/n). Nice to meet you... I haven’t seen you around before,” You introduced yourself, snapping him out of detective mode.

His grin grew wide, “Raylan Givens... I work down at the uh-... Marshall’s Service.” 

“Wow. A marshall. Do we really still have those? You look like you walked out a western film.”

Raylan’s head tilted back with laughter, making sure to hold the tip of his hat, and you felt any sense of urgency wash away. 

“Like I haven’t heard that before.”

“It’s hard not to say.”

“Oh, I’m sure.”

The two of you stared at each other for a moment. Smiles were wide on each face and the socially accepted distance for people in line was crumbling between you two. 

“You’re not from around here, are you?” Raylan said. You shook your head no. “Where you from then?”

“Way up north. Just a little town in Oregon...”

“You’re a long ways from home then,” He lifted his head up once more to look around the room. His eyes would flicker back to one spot, not far from the two of you, in between sentences. 

“I guess so...” You sighed. You stared at Raylan a little longer while he was focused on something else. When his gaze landed on you once more you checked the line in front of you. One person had been attended to. You and Raylan moved about two inches forward.

“What in the world is taking-”

Before you could continue complaining shots rang out inside of the tiny building. Instinctively, Raylan guarded you and brought you down to the ground. You let out a yelp, along with a few other screams from bystanders, as Raylan forced your body downwards. 

“Sorry...” He muttered.

“Get down on the ground! Everyone on your fucking stomachs!” A man in a ski mask yelled, assumably the one who started firing. You couldn’t see since Raylan was blocking your view of the man. 

No one dared to move a muscle so he lifted the gun at the nearest person to him.

Raylan, who was knelt down, pulled a handgun from his holster faster than you had ever seen. The robber crippled to the ground before he could make the shot.

For a split second, you thought you were saved until another robber in a ski mask came running in with a much larger gun. It must have been automatic, you thought. You didn’t know much about weapons. Raylan directed his gun in the new robbers ‘direction but the newcomer let out a tsk.

“Nuh-uh, you put that here gun down. Or I shoot. I got two buddies coming. This won’t end well for you.”

Raylan didn’t move.

“I swear to god, man. I’ll shoot.”

Raylan thought it through in his mind. This criminal was either bluffing or telling the truth. He could shoot, adding another life to his belt but it wouldn’t matter much anyway. The authorities were on their way. The robbers were wimpy, so this wasn’t going to last long. 

He darted his eyes towards you. You were on the floor still, eyes wide with fear but otherwise gave no indication of being afraid. He looked around at the people and sighed, placing down his gun slowly. 

The robber skittered towards the Marshall and kicked the gun away, holding the automatic rifle toward his face. 

“Everyone. Jewelry and cash. Now! On your stomachs!” He hollered.

And they did. Two more robbers with their faces covered came in once everyone was down and they took any valuables offered. None of the three bothered with their buddy who was bleeding out on the floor and began taking out stacks of cash. 

Before reaching the registers, one of the men stopped by your figure and grinned. A silver bracelet sat on your wrist, you had completely forgotten about it. He went for your arm and you jumped in surprise, instinctively pulling your hand away. 

The man’s smile dropped to pure rage and shoved his gun in your face, his hand still locked around your wrist, “Give it to me.”

Your mind went blank. Raylan watched, ready to pounce at any moment if any moves were made and cursed himself for kicking his gun away. Ever worse, he knew it would be too risky to pull out his backup. So, he watched the robber decisively. And watched you carefully. 

Words couldn’t formulate the feeling in your throat. You wanted to swallow badly but you feared any outside movement would end up in your head blown off. So, your hand moved slowly to unlatch the bracelet. It had zero sentimental value, so you weren’t about to make a fit.

He stalked off after snatching the thin piece of jewelry and you dropped your head in relief. One long breath of air exhaled from your lungs. 

To your left you could hear Raylan muttering something under his breath. He was frustrated. Glaring daggers at the criminals in front of him. You studied his face while he did so. 

“It’s okay,” You whispered. 

His angry expression became thoroughly confused.

“What?” He hissed.

“It’s okay...” You repeated. “You looked angry, not only at these men but... also yourself. They won’t get away with it.”

Your ghost of a smile reassured Raylan. Everyone in this room was shaking in their boots or crying out of fear for their life. Yet here you were making sure that he was okay. Immediately after a gun was propped against your skull.

Had you not said a word, he’d have done something brash. Something that Art would definitely not be happy about. More AUSA cases, more paperwork. His gun wasn’t far, too. Instead here was this random person, laying next to him calm as can be.

And in all seriousness, you were a terrified. You’ve never been a part of something so scary. But you knew just as well as Raylan that these men wouldn’t be successful. Everyone would be okay if they just complied. 

If, is the key word here.

Not far from the two of you, one of the robbers started making trouble. It was the same one that had confronted you. A man on the floor was aggravated, he didn’t want to give up his watch. So, as expected, the robber stuck a gun to his head. Raylan looked at his gun that was a few feet away. 

The criminal continued to shove the weapon in the man’s face, screaming for the watch. 

“I will shoot you fucking dead old man. Give me the goddamn watch.”

The man shook his head furiously. The robber opened his mouth once more to yell but was interrupted by the sound of a gun clicking. 

“You wanna put that down now... don’t try anything.”

Raylan had his handgun pressed against the man’s head. His accomplacises were in the back, trying to open the large safes, so the man was left on his own. 

“You wanna make the right decision now, don’t you?” Raylan’s southern drawl was calm but sharp. “You can either die right here... or go to jail. It’s that simple...”

There was no response, but the criminal set down his automatic slowly. At that moment the sound of sirens blared and officers stormed through the building. Raylan took the man by the wrists and shoved him at an nearby police officer, while shouting that his buddies were in the building somewhere.

With a sigh, you watched the chaos reign through the building. Much to your surprise, Raylan approached you with a grin.

“You’re pretty weird, you know?”

“Excuse me?”

“Nothin’ bad,” Raylan folded his arms. “You weren’t afraid. You didn’t even tremble in fear.”

“I don’t tremble,” You shrugged.

“Hell, I’ll believe you. Your hand was steady when giving him your bracelet.”

“I tend to stay calm in situations like these.”

“So you’ve had something happen?” Raylan tilted his head.

You paused, thinking of the words to say. 

“I guess you could say that...” You finally smiled at the man in front of you. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“You saved all these people today. Especially that man,” You pointed at a victim. “And in a way, you saved me.”

“I couldn’t save your bracelet,” He lifted his brows. He seemed to regret that he didn’t stop the robber.

“You can make it up to me sometime...” You said, placing a hand on his upper arm. Raylan gave you a sweet smile. “See you around, cowboy.”

[thathopelessromantic]

Reckless Good (2/?)

Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia/My Hero Academia

Fic Rating: Explicit

Chapter Rating: Teen+

Pairing: Todoroki Shouto/Midoriya Izuku

Note: Part of the @tododekubigbang for 2021! I’m super excited to share this AU with everyone. And please check out the awesome compaion art from @cryptidcatgod for chapter six!

Todoroki Shouto had accepted his fate as a public figure when he became a pro-hero, but there are some parts of his private life he would like to stay private. When he gets invited to be a speaker in a college lecture series, he goes to the meeting with one goal: to give the coordinator a piece of his mind and finally put an end to people hounding him for information about his family.

The last thing he expects is the curious, and quirkless, hero- and quirk-study professor, Midoriya Izuku, who has no interest in his family’s history, and, somehow, even more ties to the hero industry than Shouto. Intrigued by the professor, Shouto tentatively agrees to the lecture series, unknowingly intertwining their futures.

But the more Todoroki sees of Midoriya, the more questions he has. When a villain attack leaves them living together until the culprits are apprehended, maybe he’ll finally get some answers.

AO3: (x) Chapter One: (X)

“You agreed?” Kyouka all but shouts into the phone. Despite her over-the-top reaction, Shouto’s still not sure who is more surprised out of the two of them.

“I didn’t exactly agree. I just didn’t…say no.” Even as he says it, Shouto is aware that from him that is basically an agreement. God what was he getting himself into?

Kyouka is talking rapidly but he’s not entirely sure that she’s talking to him. The range of emotions she seems to be going through is impressive, though. Finally, she takes a deep breath and asks, “You’re going to talk about your family?”

Shouto sinks to the ground outside the building and leans against a tree. He hasn’t put back any of his “protective” civilian clothing and there’s a good chance of him being seen by more students, but he doesn’t have the energy to move again just yet.

“He didn’t ask me to talk about my family,” he finally admits. It’s stupid, he doesn’t even care about this kind of thing, but it wasn’t until he said it out loud that he realized how relieved he is that someone wants to talk about something – anything - other than that. “He wants me to talk about my quirk.”

They sit in silence together for a few moments. Shouto can hear the muffled sound of Momo talking to Kyouka in the background, likely asking what the hell was going on. Kyouka doesn’t seem to know what to say about this revelation, or the breathless way Shouto is talking about it, so she settles with, “So I guess he’s not a fame-hungry douchebag?”

The idea of Kyouka calling the bright-eyed, bushy-tailed professor that almost makes Shouto smile – almost. “No, I don’t think he is.”

“Huh,” Kyouka sounds almost as surprised as he is. “So, this is good, right? That you agreed?”

“Uh, I’ll let you know when I figure that out.”

Kyouka snorts, but at least she sounds more like herself and not as off-kilter as he still feels. “Think you’ll know by Friday? Momo wants you to come over for dinner.”

Shouto shakes his head. “I doubt it but, sure. Thanks.”

“Good luck, Todoroki.”

They end the call with promises to try to talk down Momo from the interrogation she’s probably already planning (from Kyouka) and the chocolate cake from Sato’s bakery for dessert on Friday (from Shouto).

 X

Shouto wouldn’t say he was waiting for the professor’s email, but after the third comment on his surprisingly frequent use of the phone, he forces himself to push the meeting from the previous day from his mind and focus on work. He and Momo started their agency in Musutafu together a few years ago, and as the only senior-hero in the office for the night, he needed to set a good example. Especially when Monarch, a sidekick who had followed him when he left Gang Orca’s agency to start on his own, was in the office too, and had no qualms about tattling on his weird behavior to Momo.

At least the others were still a little too intimidated to cross him, though he had a feeling he could only rely on that hero-worship for a little while longer. There were only so many times you could watch someone put their hero-suit on backwards or accidentally salt their coffee before you stopped fearing standing up to them.

Most of the night is rather easy after pushing the email from his mind. Patrols are pretty much standard. The lack of activity means most everyone who was in for the night could relax, or make a good dent in any paperwork or reports piling up after busier days.

Until the alert for a villain attack comes in.

Shouto rushes out at the first alert, accompanied by one of their newest sidekicks, Sunspot, but by the time they reach the site of the attack, the radio is a flurry of activity, and his pager from the agency beeped with at least three more alerts.

Downtown is a disaster area. The evening traffic is backed up for miles, and cars in the few blocks closest to the fight have all been abandoned. At least one building is already rubble, and two more look on the brink of falling.

“This is Entropy, where-” before Shouto can finish his offer of help, he recognizes Chargebolt’s voice cutting through the chatter.

One of the villains is headed towards the Rainbow bridge! he yells over the radio. He has a hostage!

Shouto takes off towards the bridge before he has even finished speaking, throwing an order for Sunspot to rendezvous with the paramedics gathering on the fringes to help with the injured as he leaves.

“What’s the quirk?” He asks, aware even as he does that he might have to go into the fight blind.

There are three! What are you talking about? Someone he doesn’t recognize snaps over the line.

Entropy, thank God, Ingenium’s voice drowns out the cursing. It’s hard to isolate them, they’ve been working in tandem but the one headed towards the bridge seems to be able to melt things – organic and inorganic material both. Be careful.

The bridge comes into view, and there is the fleeing villain, zipping unencumbered through the streets on what almost looks like lava, bubbling and expanding under their feet.

Shouto throws up a wall of ice a few feet away. It won’t stop them, especially if it is lava under them, but it could slow them down at least for a moment. He doesn’t see the hostage Chargebolt had mentioned until he gets closer. It is a terrified looking child, bundled against the villain’s chest, wrapped in some kind of bindings that keep it from fighting the hold or screaming for help. The bindings look sickeningly like Aizawa-sensei’s old capture weapon and if it is even a little similar, Shouto knew there was no way the child would be able to get out on their own.

“Stop!” Shouto calls, throwing up more ice. He blocks the villain in on all sides, but the bottom of the ice is already beginning to melt before he has all the walls up.

The villain finally looks up to where Shouto stands on the top of one of his melting blocks of ice. Their face is covered by a traditional kabuki mask, and when they laugh the familiar robotic sound tells him they are using a voice modulator.

“Entropy! This ice won’t hold me forever!”

It doesn’t have to be forever, Shouto thinks, reinforcing the bottom of the ice, just long enough for backup to arrive. Normally he could encase the villain in ice, limit their movements just in case and, if he was lucky, cool them off enough that they couldn’t melt it fast enough – assuming their quirk was even heat based – but he doesn’t have enough information now, and there is too much of a risk with the child hostage involved. He hates fights like this. He’d never been good at trying to negotiate with villains, and there was too much risk for his usual long-range fighting style.

He has an idea, but it is a risk. It is a dumb risk. And he prays if he dies down there Momo isn’t actually powerful enough to somehow revive him just to kill him again for his stupidity. But he jumps off the ice, landing a few feet from the villain. He sinks a few inches into the goop surrounding them. It helps absorb some of the shock of his landing, but already he can feel the oppressive heat rising from the ground. His boots are steaming a little, but so far, the heat protected material is holding up. Hopefully it will be enough.

The closer he gets to the villain the hotter the air becomes, and he can feel his right side trying to help regulate his body temperature.

“Give me the child,” He demands. “They shouldn’t be a part of this.”

The villain laughs again, but their voice comes out more muffled and sluggish than before. He has a feeling whatever support equipment they were using hadn’t been designed to withstand this kind of heat for so long.

“That’s what you don’t understand, hero. They are the reason for this!”

Shouto tries to look reassuring as the small child stares pleadingly at him, muffled cries coming from behind their bindings, though he isn’t sure if he is successful.

“What are you talking about?”

“They’re the key!” The villain yells, squeezing the child closer to their body, and Shouto hates to see the way they squirm uncomfortably. “A hero like you with a perfect quirk could never understand! Though I suppose, even you aren’t invincible, are you?” The villain swipes at their mask with their free hand, leaving a dark, sooty handprint over the left eye-slit of their mask. “How much heat can you really withstand?”

Shouto ducks out of the way just as the villain sends up a wave of melted material where he had been standing seconds before. The ice wall behind him sizzles at the contact, melting away a perfect person-sized opening.

Shouto holds up a hand, ready to throw up more ice before the villain can break through the weakened wall, when from the other side Ingenium and Mr. Smith burst through. Shouto propels himself upwards with ice, grabbing Ingenium at the last moment as Mr. Smith hardens the melted material around them, trapping the villain’s feet in the stiffened rock. Shouto drops them both back down and Ingenium shoots off towards the villain. Ingenium throws a punch, and hand-to-hand combat might not be his strongest selling point as a hero, but the villain is already at a disadvantage trying to hold onto the child. At least with the confirmation that they had kidnapped them intentionally, rather than just as leverage or protection, it meant they were less likely to do something that would hurt the child.

The rock around the villain’s feet is already beginning to melt again, but Shouto wraps ice around their legs, keeping them immobile enough for Mr. Smith to catch up, stiffening the villain’s shirt as they lift an arm to defend against Ingenium. They wave their hand uselessly, unable to move their arms much more in the cast around them. Shouto reaches for the child, carefully wiggling them out from the villain’s trapped arm. They catch his arm as he extracts the child, however, and his shout of pain is drowned out only by the villain’s own anguished scream.

“This isn’t over,” they promise. And then their entire body begins to melt. The three heroes reach for them, but Mr. Smith and Ingenium’s gloves catch on fire before they even make contact with the melting body. Shouto’s ice is absorbed into the goopy mess and in a few seconds, it was as if the villain had never been standing there at all.

“Shit,” Mr. Smith swears. He glances over at the child in Shouto’s arms and winces. “Sorry.”

Shouto nods to him, agreeing with the sentiment regardless, before taking a few steps away. He cradles the child close to his chest, wishing she didn’t feel so small, wishing there was something he could do about the way she trembled.

“You’re going to be okay,” he says softly, shifting her in his arms. He tests the bindings around her torso, but they don’t give. “You’re safe, and we’re going to get you out of this.”

“I can help.”

Shouto looks up at the new voice. A hero, presumably, stands before him, but he doesn’t recognize the newcomer. Their face is covered by a dark helmet, tinted glass hiding even their eyes. Their costume is a simple dark green bodysuit, but a tool belt at their waist boasts a truly impressive number of gadgets.

Shouto holds the girl closer to his body and looks the other person over. The other hero seems to understand his hesitance and reaches for something in their tool belt. Shouto shifts his weight, prepared to run if this interaction turns sour.

“Architect!” Ingenium calls, running up besides them. “I didn’t realize you were working.”

The stranger, Architect apparently, nods a greeting to Ingenium. “I was at the hospital checking on something when the attacks started so I came out to see if I could help.” He turns back to Shouto. “I was just about to introduce myself to Entropy so I could help with the bindings.”

“Architect is part of the support team at All Might-er, Lemillion’s agency,” Ingenium explains to Shouto. “He’s a friend.”

Architect produces a small pair of scissors from his tool belt. The blades are jagged and look dangerous, but he handles them carefully, finding a space away from any exposed skin.

“This will be a little uncomfortable,” he tells the young girl in a gentle voice. “But it will be over in a flash.”

The scissors don’t seem to actually cut through the bindings, but the jagged blades get caught in the rough fabric, pulling at it tightly as he moves them. The girl twists in Shouto’s arm with a quiet whimper, but a moment later the bindings seize and then loosen, dropping harmlessly from her body.

Shouto lowers her to the ground carefully and Architect crouches to be at eye-level with her.

“How are you feeling, Kou? Are you hurt anywhere?”

The girl shakes her head, staring at Architect with wide eyes. “How do you know my name?” she whispers, awed. Shouto would like to know that too, but Ingenium doesn’t seem at all surprised by the development, so he wills himself to let it go for now.

Architect tilts his head, and though he can’t see, Shouto suspects he’s looking at him. “Entropy told me,” he lies cheerfully. “He knows the name of all his fans.”

Kou whips around to stare at Shouto. “Really?”

“Ah…yes?”

“Wow.”

Architect and Ingenium both seem amused by the child’s awe. “I bet if you’re good and go with the heroes to get checked over by the doctors, Entropy might even give you an autograph for being so brave.”

Kou’s face scrunches up in displeasure, and Shouto doesn’t really blame her, but a moment later she reluctantly agrees. Architect stands up, waving to someone through the melting ice and a few more heroes come through, accompanied by two paramedics carrying a stretcher.

A moment later two detectives come through the ice as well, and Shouto is pulled into giving a report of what happened while he was alone with the villain and if he noticed anything distinctive about the villain’s appearance or quirk that could help track them down. When he’s finally done going over everything, Kou, the paramedics, and Architect are gone. Ingenium and Mr. Smith head back to where the fight began but Shouto stays behind to melt down what’s left of his ice first with a few other heroes with heat-based quirks, including Sunspot.

Once that’s taken care of, they head back. Sunspot gives him a rundown of the intel she gathered working closer to the main fight. One of the villains was mostly contained when the other two spilt up, the one with the child presumably looking for an escape while the other went deeper into town, ricocheting off buildings and bridges with some kind of body-hardening quirk that kept heroes preoccupied trying to minimalize damage and protect civilians from toppling structures. They have since been contained, however. From the discussion on the radios, rescue and clean-up teams have already started to move in.

Near where they first joined the fight, there is a circle of ambulances, back doors flung open while paramedics check on civilians and heroes alike. Shouto scans the area for Kou. He finally sees her perched in the back of an ambulance, talking animatedly with someone crouched on the ground in front of her.  She sees him as he’s making his way over and waves excitedly. There are red marks crisscrossing her arms from where the bindings were too tight and tear tracts on her rosy cheeks, but she doesn’t seem so bothered by either any more. Shouto waves back.

The person in front of Kou stands as Shouto approaches and turns to him with a smile.

“Entropy,” Dr. Midoriya says in greeting. “Kou was just telling me all about your daring rescue.”

“Dr. Midoriya…” Shouto doesn’t stumble as he comes to a stop near them, but it’s a near thing. He leans against one of the open ambulance doors in (faked) nonchalance. “I didn’t realize you would be here.”

Kou reaches out and tugs on Dr. Midoriya’s sleeve. “See!” She exclaims in a barely contained whisper to the professor. “I told you he’d know who you were! The other hero said he knows the names of all his fans!”

Shouto is pleasantly surprised at the bright blush that comes over the professor’s face at Kou’s whispering. He runs a hand through his hair, riling up the wild curls at the top even more and glances quickly at Shouto out of the corner of his eye. He looks away just as quickly with a nervous laugh.

“Well now, Kou, weren’t you also telling me something about wanting an autograph?” Dr. Midoriya asks, changing the subject easily.

Kou sticks her tongue out at him, but turns to Shouto a moment later with a suddenly shy look. “Um…Entropy,” she starts, his hero name coming out a little muddled as she stumbles over the word.

Remembering Architect’s promise to her, Shouto starts to reach for the notepad he keeps in his tool belt before she can even finish her question but his arm bumps into the ambulance door. The contact immediately sends a searing pain through his arm. With a hiss, and just barely swallowed curse, he pulls his arm in close. Based on their gasps, Kou and Dr. Midoriya see the injury just before he does. Part of his uniform sleeve is melted. Gaping, burnt holes in the fabric reveal splotchy, disfigured skin underneath – a burn. Made all the worse by the deep blue fabric that melted into the open sore. Shouto faintly remembers the villain touching his arm just as he rescued Kou and a flash of sharp pain, but somehow he blocked it out afterwards, so focused on keeping her safe.

Now with the throbbing, searing pain at the forefront of his mind, the fact that he went this long without noticing it feels unreal.

“Sit down,” Dr. Midoriya orders suddenly, pushing Shouto to take a seat in the back of the ambulance next to Kou. “Adrenaline must have blocked the pain, but you’re going to go into shock if we don’t take care of this.”

Behind the pain, Shouto faintly registers the change in the professor’s voice as he orders Shouto around and calls for some first aid supplies to the nearby paramedics. It reminds him of the sudden way he changed in his office the other day, when Shouto mentioned his family. The cheerful, bemusing professor replaced by a no-nonsense professional.

Dr. Midoriya cuts away what’s left of his sleeve, examining the wound closely. All the while giving directions to the paramedics and talking Shouto through a shot of painkillers and the start of an IV. Shouto and Kou are ushered into the ambulance, Dr. Midoriya and another paramedic climbing in after them. In a moment they are on the move.

“The burn needs to be cleaned in a more sterile environment,” Dr. Midoriya says, though Shouto isn’t sure if he’s saying this for his benefit or Kou’s. Shouto is no stranger to the care of significant burns. Kou however is watching both of them with a nervous, teary-eyed expression from where she’s sat on the paramedic’s lap. “The painkillers should kick in soon, which will help. And the IV will help with dehydration.”

Dr. Midoriya pulls out his cell phone, still in a bright All Might case, immediately tapping away at something on the screen. “You were on the scene with a sidekick from your agency, right? Sunspot, the UV hero?”

Shouto blinks in surprise a few times before he remembers the professor’s notebooks. He nods. “How many pages of notes do you have on her?”

Dr. Midoriya gives him an incredulous look, but Shouto doesn’t know what the big deal is. With the heavy-duty pain killers they gave him, he really doesn’t know what the rush is, or the harm in a few questions.

“Just one. Well, one and a half.” Dr. Midoriya finally answers, going back to typing rapidly on his phone. “She’s still new, I haven’t had time to observe her fighting enough to gather more information.”

Shouto will one hundred percent blame it on the drugs later, but a laugh bubbles out of him despite everything at the professor’s petulant tone. “You are something else, Dr. Midoriya.” Shouto starts to sit up, but Dr. Midoriya stops him with a firm, but gentle, hand on his shoulder, pushing him back down. He gestures to himself instead, with his uninjured arm. “How did you even know how to do all this? I thought the doctor in your name was for a Ph.D., not M.D.”

The paramedic chuckles from the corner of the ambulance. “He didn’t mention? It’s both. His quirk research is not limited to just academia and theory.”

“What?”

“None of us have been able to figure out how he did it either, don’t worry.” The paramedic adds cheerfully.

Dr. Midoriya stumbles over his words for a few moments, carefully avoiding Shouto’s surprised look, before he settles on scolding the paramedic for “distracting the patient” and changes the subject.

Shouto lets it drop for now, exhaustion from the fight and the injury finally settling in, but one way or another before this damn “Hero Talks” series was over, he was getting some answers out of this professor.

[soulmate-game]

Not related to any other prompts

Bio Dad Bruce Wayne Month 2020

Day 4: Habits

Not screwed~

—*—*—*—*—*

Marinette swung through the Gotham streets, shadows playing over her maroon-and-black biker’s jacket and the occasional street light glinting off of the chunky maroon goggles she used to obscure her identity.

“Help!”

A quick change of course with her yo-yo, and the teen was hurtling in a new direction. One black-gloved hand came up to touch the spot on her specialized goggles that covered her ear, protecting it from not only weapons but also anything that might utilize sound against her.

“I’m deviating. Two streets to the north, woman yelling for help. Checking it out.”

It also doubled as her communicators.

A click sounded in her ear, admitting the professional, clipped voice of Oracle. “Copy that. I’m gonna see if I can get a look for you first— aha. Barely in view of a street cam. Looks legit, I can only see two aggressors though. Might be more out of sight. Sending Batman your way just in case, Ladybird.”

Marinette grinned, landing silently on a rooftop. As quickly yet quietly as she could, she snuck over to the ledge. “This is my first patrol with you guys, but I’m no amateur,” she retorted softly before peering over the edge of the building. Immediately, she scowled. “Shit. Trafficking ring, most likely. I’m counting eleven hostiles, five women tied up. They just knocked out the one that I heard.”

“Good thing I sent Batman. ETA three minutes.”

Marinette nodded, reaching up to turn the volume on her comms down so that it wouldn’t distract her too much before jumping down. Three minutes was enough time for her to start to make a dent without being in too much danger of something happening before her backup could arrive. Considering this was her first time in Gotham, nobody was quite expecting a tiny woman in a maroon and black motorcycle jacket, maroon high tech goggles that curled around her entire head, and knee-high black boots with charcoal gray armor down the front to land on their leader’s shoulder and knock him out with a yo-yo to the head.

But also, this was Gotham. They shouldn’t have been surprised, either.

Leader down, Marinette focused her attention on the guys that were the most heavily armed, bringing out a second yo-yo to speed up her progress. She was three thugs down and in the middle of swinging a rifle away from its owner when a familiar large shadow dropped down to join her.

The appearance of the Bat garnered much more fear, forcing the traffickers to panic and lose a lot of their combative edge. Seeing as Batman was fresher for the fight than she was, Marinette decided to take a pseudo-break to get the women a little farther from the action. She was just pulling the sixth girl, the one she had heard scream, over to the group when one of the few remaining conscious thugs snuck up behind her, gun aimed and finger on the trigger.

But Marinette was faster, having heard the guy scramble to get behind her. She spun, kicking the pistol out of his hand and grabbing it out of the air. Not having the time to grab her yo-yos from off of her hip, she adjusted her grip and slammed the handle of the gun against the guy’s head before tossing the weapon away. It was too much of a risk for misfire if she tried that move again, once was already risky. The guy shook his head, staggering back with nothing but rage and desperation fueling him as he tried again to land a hit on the small vigilante.

Marinette dodged, burying her fist in his gut. The man retched, but swallowed his vomit and tried again. Marinette sidestepped his sloppy attack and slammed an elbow on his back, forcing him to collapse to the ground. She could see he was still awake though, and scrambling for another weapon. So Ladybird raised her foot, prepared to give the guy one last hit to knock him out.

But she was yanked back by a firm hand on her shoulder, upsetting her balance just enough to make her put both feet solidly on the ground and half her attack. She whipped her head back, seeing that it was, indeed, Batman who had stopped her.

All the other thugs were out and restrained.

“Justice, not vengeance,” Batman grumbled as soon as she looked at him. Marinette barely bit back a squeak of frustration, ripping her shoulder away and slamming her foot down just in time to stop the guy from stabbing into her boot. The steel toe would have protected her, but still.

“Batman, he has a knife!” She growled right back at him, finally landing that kick and knocking him out. “I really appreciate that faith, you know. Thinking I’m gonna cross the line in such a simple situation,” she snapped back at him sarcastically, making sure he saw her furrowed brows even through her goggles before crouching down to tie the guy up with her zip ties.

“Sorry,” he grumbled after all the victims had been taken by the ambulance and the criminals by the police. They stood on a rooftop, ladybird staring down at the towering figure of Batman with her arms crossed. “It’s a habit.”

“Yeah, I can tell,” she replied, shaking her head. “I’m not Damian.”

Batman sighed, crossing his own arms. Unknowingly, that caused the two of them to be holding the exact same pose, down to the very position of shoulder blades and feet, as one another. Twins of differing height, to an outsider. A parent and his child, to anyone who was closer.

“I know that—“

“And Damian isn’t Damian Al-Ghul anymore either,” she interrupted him, finally dropping her arms to take a few steps forward. “He’s well and truly Damian Wayne. It’s been seven years since he was that abused, hurt, ultra-violent ten year old that he was when Talia first dropped him off with you. The fact that stopping him in mid fight like that is still a habit to you is a problem.”

Batman slowly exhaled through his nose, trying to remain patient with the daughter he had only had in his life for the past three years. He didn’t want to make the same mistakes with her that he made with the others, but just like always he somehow found something new to screw up.

“I haven’t had to say it to him often. Hardly at all in recent years. But seeing you looming over a man who was already on the ground brought back that reflex.”

Marinette nodded, but her jaw didn’t unclench. “It’s been more than a few times,” she told him softly. “Damian tells me, ever since we got closer. He tells me when you have to stop yourself from pulling him back. When you bark his name before seeing that he wasn’t going to use lethal force at all. You need to realize that Damian hasn’t taken a single life in six years. He hasn’t caused permanent injury unless absolutely necessary— a total of three times in twice as many years. You need to nip this habit of yours in the bud, now,” she took a few more steps forward, so that she was only inches away as she glared straight up at his face.

“We are both your blood children, but you have only apologized to me about the way you acted tonight. One day, your lack of trust in Damian could get him killed— again. You call out his name too early, and you could startle him or give his opponent the shock they need to make a sudden attack that Damian won’t be able to parry. You grabbing him and pulling him back can stop him from, like me, knocking out an opponent who is still fighting. Unlike me though, his opponent could have a gun. Or a remote to a worse weapon. He could use those seconds you just gave him to take Damian away from us again,” Marinette stopped, shaking her head and taking a deep breath.

“If you’re gonna have us work with you, you need to trust our judgement. If you want us to be a family, then you need to trust us. Period.” With that, Marinette jumped off the side of the building and swung away, leaving her father standing there with a lot to think about.

—*—*—*—*—*

Short, but angsty! I wrote this in an hour, don’t @ me. I took a thirty minute break for a late dinner.

@momothefemur @ladybug-182 @starlightshield @trippingovermyfeet @greatcatblaze @sam-i-am-0222 @bluesimani @ruelukas22 @acoolspacegirl @iamablinkmarvelarmy

[casiavium]

I've been editing old stuff instead of writing anything new so I'm going to post some of the parts of my fanfic that I don't hate and work well out of context!!

The crunch of leaves under Link's feet filled the forest, but for once, he wasn't afraid to alert others to his position. They were safe now.

Though it was hard to tell back in the perpetual springtime of Skyloft, time had passed since he fought Demise.

As the months wore on, the surface showed it. The stories of changing leaves and colder breezes that had been passed down for as long as anyone could remember turned out to be true. The world below was filled with brilliant reds and yellows, the air in Faron woods sharper than it had been before.

Link wasn't paying attention to where the path was leading him. He knew the woods well, even if they hadn't made the final move to the surface yet. He wasn't too worried about running into anything dangerous, as it seemed without a leader the bokoblins and moblins had vanished.

Though Faron appeared safe, Link wanted to wander farther. In the middle of their maps was a blank space where a kingdom once stood. He knew ruins laid there, hopefully with the answers to unsolved mysteries regarding gods and demons. Zelda wouldn't let him go alone, but the plans to move meant no one could be spared.

He sighed out loud, stopping in front of a fallen log. He didn't know the area beyond it very well, down a tunnel that looked like it was leading to a canyon. He really should turn back, people would start to worry. Climbing up the log onto the ledge, Link looked back out over the forest.

He wasn't familiar with the area. If he turned around now, he could head straight back the way he came, and be sure to end up at the Sealed Temple. Zelda was waiting for him there, discussing the future of both the surface and Skyloft with Groose. He had said he would be right back, he just needed a minute to get some air. They'd be looking for him soon...

Beyond the tunnel, a faint noise rang through the canyon. Link whipped around, sure he had imagined it. He hadn't heard the soft sound of bells for three months, not since he had left the Master Sword to rest in the past. Wandering farther down the path, Link ignored the instinct to head back.

He had been here before. A long time ago, now. Though the walls of the canyon hid it, Link knew a temple was sitting at the end, surrounded by a grove of trees and wildflowers unlike any others on the surface. The winding path dropped off abruptly in places, fraying rope the only way to cross.

It was dangerous. Alone, if something were to happen to him, he would be trapped. Not expecting to adventure today, he only carried a simple training sword.

At the bend of the path, a shadowy figure flickered at the edge of Link's vision. The chime rang through the canyon again, this time a little louder. When he turned to face the figure head on, the shadow disappeared.

Something was wrong, Link thought, as he felt himself follow the shadow. He had done this before, at the beginning of his quest, with Fi, but this time... the energy that was calling to him felt different. Like it wasn't meant for him. He still followed.

Link almost lost his balance crossing a rope bridge when the shadow appeared at the end. It was small, dark, and still. He couldn't recognize the outline, a vague humanoid, but the chime it sent out sounded so familiar he couldn't ignore it. A soon as he corrected himself, it was gone.

As he followed the path, Link began to worry. He could have been hallucinating the apparition, but more than likely, it was leading him somewhere. A thought crossed his mind that it was guiding him to certain death, luring in a victim with a false sense of security. At the back of his mind, probably the worst thing to have in this situation, was hope.

The similarities to Fi, but darker, different... Link knew it was dangerous to wish for, but he was praying to Hylia the shadow figure was Ghirahim, calling to him as his own sword once had. He knew the spirit was alive, he saw him, Fi told him to find Ghirahim again, but it had been three months. There was no sign of the demon, no idea of where to even start, and Link was close to giving up.

As the shadow appeared in and out of his vision, Link continued down the path leading to Skyview Temple. Soon, he found himself at the front steps, staring up at the building before him.

He really should head back now, get backup or at least a better sword. He had actually turned to leave, but there it was again, the shadowy figure in the corner of his vision. At the entrance to the temple, it flickered, beckoning him inside.

Despite his better judgement, Link followed. There shouldn't have been any bokoblins to deal with, and though his sword was not the best, it would hold up against skulltullas well enough. The temple hadn't changed, and Link was lucky to find every door left unlocked from the last time he had been there.

At the end of the maze of passages, Link once again came to the broken bridge, the room taken over by vines and trees. Across the chasm, the shadow waited in front of the golden door, a dark contrast to the scattered glow of stray mushroom spores.

This was the first time he was able to look at it head on. The figure stood as tall as the keyhole, touching the floor but almost floating as it waited for him. It wasn't solid, a few glowing dots drifting through its body, and as each second passed Link could swear it was getting dimmer.

He couldn't say how much time was spent staring ahead. The figure blinked out of existence once more, and Link finally moved to follow it. The rope before him shook under his weight, and he nearly lost his balance a few times, but he had made it to the other side.

The large door was still unlocked, and open by just a sliver. Drawing his sword, Link pushed through.

Nothing had changed. The empty room stood before him, shattered pieces of pottery from the last fight that took place lining the edges. There was no figure, no demon nor sword waiting for him.

Link lowered his blade. He hadn't expected anything, really, but the confirmation of his fears stung. The sunlight had been very bright outside, the figure must have been a mirage his tired brain kept conjuring. Even so, he felt it would be a good idea to let the others know in case of some sinister new enemy. Placing his sword back in the scabbard, Link turned to leave.

"Did you really just sheathe your sword? Foolish boy."

At the voice, Link spun around with a racing heart. Across the room, where they had first met, Ghirahim was waiting for him.

"Hello, Link."

He looked the same as when Link last saw him. Taller than he was used to, eerily similar to Fi, glowing core exposed. He looked less worn down, but signs of battle were still etched onto his skin, cracks in the gem revealing the glow underneath. His hand held onto the sword, nearly as tall as Link, a reflection of the demon himself.

"It's been a while."

"It has." Link whispered in response, scared to walk closer and break the spell. "What took you so long?"

"Me?" Ghirahim scoffed. "I've been waiting here for you. I thought you'd come back eventually."

Link was confused. Looking back over his shoulder, he had the strange feeling of being watched. "So you weren't the shadow?"

"I don't know what you mean. Does it matter? You're here now."

Still wary, Link turned his attention back to Ghirahim. "I... yes. What... what happens now?"

Ghirahim twisted the sword in his hand. Picking it up, he walked towards Link, offering the blade to him. "That is up to you. I was under the impression you no longer have a sword, correct?"

Link absentmindedly brought his hand up to the training weapon. "Yeah."

"You are a swordsman in need of a blade. I am a blade in need of a master. Surely you see how we can solve these problems?"

Link stared at the black blade in front of him. He had imagined this day for months now, wanting nothing more, but he had never told anyone. Hesitation at taking the weapon clouded his mind. It would be difficult to explain.

"... what exactly does this mean?"

Growing frustrated, Ghirahim snapped, "You've had months to think about it. It's no different than your old spirit, and I promise, if you still worry that I may try to hurt you or your precious spirit maiden, this is the only way you could stop me."

At the mention of Zelda, Link stiffened. She wouldn't react well to this. Yet, Ghirahim had a point. Under his command, Ghirahim wouldn't hurt anyone. Fi had seemed okay with the idea, encouraged him to take it, even. He had been through so much... he deserved this one thing, at least.

"I'll take it."

"Good."

Reaching out for the blade, Link closed his eyes as he grasped the cold hilt. His fingers brushed against Ghirahim's for a moment, before the spirit was gone. Cracking an eye open, Link watched as the sword glowed, red flames lighting the room as it changed before his eyes. Just as when using the sacred flames on the Goddess Sword, the blade transformed under his grip, fitting to his palm and becoming much easier to handle.

The final form was smaller, the edges of the blade smoother. It looked similar to the Master Sword, yet rougher at the edges and still distinctly Ghirahim. Link lifted the newly transformed blade to the light, watching the last of the flames fall away.

Behind him, a hand rested on his waist. This time when Ghirahim leaned over his shoulder, tongue flicking out by his ear, Link did not flinch away. He was pulled against the other's body as that tongue traced his jaw, lips stopping to rest on his neck. Cold against his skin, he could feel them move as Ghirahim whispered,

"It will be a pleasure to serve you, Master."

[fnf-brain-rot]

back in the day

Boyfriend held onto his microphone with a strong grip, staring down at the dulled, black surface that triggered memories in his mind. this wasn't the mic he used in his everyday quests of rap battling, no. this was, what he used to call, his battle mic. It was a pretty lame name, but now it holds loads of sentimental value.

Back when he and Pico were dating, yes he dated in his middle school, his parents couldn't tell him he wasn't allowed to, he would often hang out with his friends, Nene and Darnell. He actually enjoyed Pico's friends a lot. Nene helped get him in touch with his feminine side, and Darnell would give him guys talk about things Pico hated talking about. Being together with them had its downsides of course. he was occasionally dragged into their hijinks, which would get him pretty beat up. He and Pico even argued over it. Boyfriend didn't mind, he thought it was cool in all honesty, but Pico didn't want him getting hurt anymore, and his parents might start noticing the cuts and bruises. It gave Boyfriend a bright idea.

________________________________________________________________________________

"Mom! I'm heading out!"

"Okay sweetie! Be back BEFORE ten, okay?"

Bee rolled his eyes, then closed the front door of his home behind him. He had a bright idea. A dangerous one, but it was totally smart. He skated his way down to the lesser developed area of Newgrounds City, which already put him in a bit of danger. He was the brightest thing there. Stopping near an old, rusty bus drop off, he took out his phone. Maybe he should tell the others he was there, just in case anything went wrong. He stopped himself though. Nene would panic and tell Darnell and Pico. Darnell would doubt the idea and tell Pico. And Pico... He would come down there himself just to chew him out.

he shook his head to clear his thoughts, then pocketed his phone. He was already there. there was no point in going back.

He had a couple hours to put his new skills to the test. Did he start training only a week ago? yes. Was he impatient to prove himself? Very much so. Was this a good idea? Hm.. probably not, but he'll get nowhere if he doesn't believe in himself! 

He set down his board, then began his walk down to the little ice cream parlor a couple minutes from him. He remembered Pico saying something about it swarming with Uberkids. This was his ticket. He held his microphone tight in his sweaty palms. it seemed like the parlor was the only thing using power around here. All the other buildings were either dark, devoid of life, or destroyed, as if fires have been set and holes have been blasted through the walls. 

He stepped foot at the door, already feeling the refreshing cool air brushing against him from the other side of the glass. He swallowed hard, then pulled the door open. He couldn't see anyone behind the counter. That alone made him nervous. "H..Hello?" His voice quivered, despite his best attempt to sound tough. Standing in front of the selection of ice cream is when he noticed a kid his height standing there. It was one of them.

Boyfriend smiled nervously. these guys don't really talk huh? He gripped his microphone to comfort himself. He was now realizing he didn't really have a plan, and he was mostly daydreaming about kicking ass on the way there, but now this felt super stupid. Maybe they won't wanna fight? "Uh.. hi? Can I get a chocolate mint ice cream?" Maybe ice cream would make him feel better. The other was about to comply with his order, but seemed to stop, staring into Boyfriend's eyes for longer than he was comfortable with. No doubt they knew him, he was literally always with Pico.

the way he recoiled confirmed his thoughts, and before he knew it, he had a gun pointed at him. "Bad idea.." bee murmured before immediately ducking as a shot was fired in his previous position. "Oh shit! Shit!" He scrambled off the floor, making a run for the front doors, which he kicked open with his foot. He could hear the uberkid chasing him down, firing shot after shot at his moving target. 

Boyfriend ducked behind a dumpster for cover. His hands were shaking, and he felt like he was about to collapse. Wait no, he knew what this was. Adrenaline. He could call Pico.. Or he could handle this himself and prove he was fine with the other three. Right. He's not being brushed off anymore.

He waited for footsteps, hearing them get closer and closer to his location. Right when he saw the shadow, he flung himself out into the open. he heard gunfire, and felt a searing pain in his shoulder, but he ignored it. In one swift motion, he threw his mic at the kid, then yoinked it back. He had his eyes closed, so he had no idea what he really did, but when he opened them, he was holding the kid's gun. 

"Ha! Hahaaa!!" Boyfriend laughed triumphantly, but quickly made more distance between him and the approaching opponent. He flung his mic again, pulling the cord down. The solid object made direct contact with the other's skull, tripping him up and flinging him face first into the pavement. With a wide grin, Boyfriend dropped the gun, then kicked it away behind him. "Not so useless now, am I?" He put his hands on his hips, but wasn't prepared for the next act.

The uberkid lifted himself up on shaky arms, and pulled a whistle from his pocket.

oh no..

"Oh! Wait! nono please!" Boyfriend held his hands up, but the shrill sound of the whistle cut him off. He knew what that meant. He could already feel the buildings around him come to life. They were probably waiting for the signal this whole time. Maybe they thought he had Pico, Nene, and Darnell with him.

He's really starting to think he should have called them.

Boyfriend began running without a second thought, passing the barely conscious kid on the ground. He needed to get to his board. he needed to get out of here.

He pulled out his phone and pressed on the first contact he could see. Pico. Oh great, now he had to get yelled at. he pressed call, hearing the gun fire begin to echo around the decrepit walls of the broken down area. Pico picked up on the second ring, a yawn following right after. "Bee-"

"I'M BEING CHASED BY UBERKIDS AND THEY'RE SHOOTING AT ME!!" 

Silence crept between them for a moment before Pico responded, his voice dripping with a stern, serious tone. "Where are you." Boyfriend cried out at the feeling of another bullet grazing him, almost tripping over his foot. "Downtown! Near the ice cream parlor!" He heard Pico sigh heavily. "We're on our way. Get behind something." With that, the ginger hung up the phone.

Boyfriend felt relief wash over him at the news of backup on its way, however it was short lived when he felt a solid hit in his left arm. He gasped out in pain, the spot immediately boiling with heat. He tried to focus on his skate board but.. Oh god, they were already there.. he skidded to a halt, but quickly moved in a different direction. he hoped to god this alleyway didn't have a dead end. He tripped over an open garbage bag, tumbling over and rolling into a brick wall, hitting the back of his head. 

His vision swirled, and he was in so much pain. He bit back tears and tried to stay quiet, doing that thing he saw Pico do when he got shot. he ripped off a piece of his shirt, then tied it around the wound. The pain was unbearable, but he had to be tough. 

The gunfire stopped, supposedly because they didn't know where he was. All he had was his microphone.. It wasn't really a weapon.. But it could be.. He looked around, squeezing the hand of his injured arm. The sooner he got used to the pain, the sooner he could fight. Drawing in a breath, he stood up, suppressing the urge to curl up in a ball to wait for his saviors.

There stood two uberkids, thankfully unarmed, but still looked dangerous. He was quick to jump forward, throwing out his mic. The force of the sling wrapped the object around one of their necks, and with all his force, Boyfriend gave it a hard tug. He made direct contact with his opponent's face with the top of his head, hearing the crunch of his breaking nose. The buddy he was patrolling with quickly ran to help, grabbing Boyfriend by the shoulders, and the blue haired struggled against his grip. 

He then smacked his head up into the uberkids' jaw, then kicked his leg up at his crotch, causing the clone to double over. "When Pico gets here you guys are FUCKED." He threatened them through grit teeth, kicking away the one in front of him. He didn't have it in him to kill them like the others did. If anything he just hoped he knocked them unconscious.

He breathed out as the two bodies collapsed under him. The adrenaline really did do wonders huh.. He limped his way out of the alley way to get to his skateboard, hopefully it was less crowded-

The moment he stepped out he saw a good five of these wastes of science grants running his way. "Son of a-" He began to back track, almost stumbling backward into the wall to hide. Welp, at least he did some cool fighting shit before he died. He squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the sounds of gunfire to end his life.

Well, it didn't.. kill him when he heard it.

he cracked an eye open as blood splattered onto the pavement in front of him, but it wasn't his. He turned the corner to see no other than Nene, who jumped in the middle of them for dramatic affect. Pico covered her from some ways back, gradually making his way toward the scrap. It wasn't too long until Boyfriend heard an explosion, surprisingly nearby. He often forgets how bloody these fights are.

"Nene..!" Bee quickly rushes toward her, surprising both her and Pico. "Bee, wait!" The ginger yelled out, but Boyfriend didn't listen. The blue haired boy held up a hand for Pico to hold his fire, then threw his microphone to wrap around the neck of one minion about to grab Nene from behind. he tugged to give himself a speed boost, then lifted his legs to collide with his stomach, knocking him to the ground, the shorter standing on top. 

"Wow Bee, where'd you learn that?" Nene smiled, impressed, and Boyfriend couldn't help but breathe out a laugh. "It's why I'm here." He admitted to her.

With all the immediate ubers handled, Darnell came down from one of the already destroyed buildings, seeming giddy as hell while Nene checked Boyfriend for any wounds. "Holy shit Bf! I saw what you did! Where the fuck did you learn to fight like that??" He clapped the boy on the back, which made him wince painfully, and the taller muttered an apology with another laugh. Pico was quiet, as to be expected. "Did you know you got shot in the leg?"

"I what."

Boyfriend looked down to see blood oozing out of his calf. Oh wow, he hadn't even felt it.

"N..No I didn't know that." He felt the pain wash over him though when he looked at out. "Wow that hurts!" He forced himself to laugh at it, and  Nene and Darnell happily lent him their shoulders to limp on. "Let's go, before he loses too much blood." Pico muttered, walking over to the rusty bench and grabbing his skateboard. Boyfriend already know how this talk was gonna go..

________________________________________________________________________________

The three kids easily helped boyfriend patch up his wounds. The worst hurdle was taking the bullets out of his arm and leg. He had to bite down on a towel for that.

Pico had him lie down on his bed, the boy no wearing one of his sweaters and a pair of his boxers since he had to shower. He texted his mom to ask if he could stay at Pico's, and being the understanding mother she was, she allowed it.

"Get better soon, okay Bee?" Nene waved as she walked out of Pico's bedroom, Darnell playfully saluting him. With those two gone, Boyfriend grew tense, watching Pico walk into his bathroom to clean up everything they used to dress his wounds. He felt bad about making them do all this. He knew it was his own fault he got in trouble like that. He should endure the punishment.

Pico came back, turning the light off as he left the room. Without a word, he sat down on his bed, then turned to look at Bee. They stared at each other for a moment, and Boyfriend's cheeks began to redden. Now wasn't the time to faun over his boyfriend-

"Uh.. I'm sorry.." He started, looking away in embarrassment. He couldn't read Pico's expression, and frankly he didn't want to. Pico put a hand on his face, drawing a slow breath, then letting it out. "bee, you could have gotten seriously hurt."

"I know I know! I just.. I wanted to.." Pico grunted before he could finish. "You wanted to put yourself in danger to, what, prove a point? What's the point in doing that if you might not live to prove it to people?!" Boyfriend flinched as he raised his voice, then winced at the dull throb he was met with from moving so suddenly. Pico sighed again, and without warning, leaned forward to gently hug onto Boyfriend's torso. The smaller's eyes widened, and his heartbeat increased. "I'm just.. glad you're okay. Don't.. Don't do that again, okay?" 

Bee smiled brightly as Pico sat up. It always melted his heart when he smiled like that. "I promise! I obviously can't fight on my own like you can." He teased, then whined as Pico flicked his nose. "No dumbass. Since when do I fight armies without backup, huh?" He scoffed, and Boyfriend laughed again, gently rubbing his nose. "Yeah, yeah. I learned my lesson." Pico rolled his eyes. "You better have.." He leaned down and kissed Boyfriend on the forehead. He was dramatic about it, a happy squeal leaving him while the ginger simply rolled his eyes again. He should stop doing that, he could feel his sockets loosening already.

________________________________________________________________________________

Bee smiled at the memory. He was lucky enough to get away without any scars. Meeting Pico this week was tough. he could barely explain to Girlfriend why he started crying after that. He wasn't ready to tell her about it yet. He would soon though, he doesn't like hiding stuff. He loves her too much.

.......

"You up?"

The phone showed Pico was typing for a while.

"Ya, why"

"I wanna talk"

[swtorpadawan]

Backup

Author’s Notes: The following story takes place a few weeks after the Rise of the Emperor expansion.

Jonas Balkar’s eyes scanned the south balcony of the Star Cluster Casino on Nar Shaddaa.

From the nearby Strategic Information Service observation post, the senior agent had multiple angles to choose from on his monitor displays, both inside and outside the venue. Years before, Jonas and the Republic SIS – with the assistance of Havoc Squad – had remotely sliced the establishment’s nigh-impregnable security system ever since, giving them a backdoor to the casino’s entire network. Say what you will about the Hutts, but they weren’t stingy on surveillance. They wanted every credit and every gaming chip accounted for, and they were committed to keeping (unsanctioned) violence away from their lucrative hotels and casinos. There were literally hundreds of security holo-recorders and sensors throughout the Star Cluster, and Jonas had access to all of it. What’s more, he could adjust what the Hutts and their goons saw at their end, meaning they wouldn’t get wise to what Jonas was up to.

This had all made the Star Cluster the ideal location for a discreet handoff between their contact – a rather gullible Rodian information broker named Rox, who had a nervous demeanor – and a Nikto working for a Black Sun arms dealer who was (allegedly) supplying off-the-books weaponry for the new Sith Intelligence and their covert operations on the Smuggler’s Moon and other Hutt-controlled worlds. (Why waste time smuggling in ordinance that can be traced back to your government when you can just as easily buy large quantities of untraceable weapons after you arrive, and all at a reasonable price?) The plan was for the Rodian to pass a large bribe to the Nikto for a data-disk on these (alleged) shipments to Imperial safehouses. In one swoop, the SIS would pick up the drop-off points of the network.

But the plan got even better. If things went well, then two days from now, Jonas – through a proxy –would approach the Nikto – the fellow was named Fhentar – with all the information the man had illicitly provided to the Rodian, along with a recording of the hand-off. Using that evidence as leverage, he would turn Fhentar into an SIS informant by threatening to share what the Nikto had done with his boss. The Nikto would then realize that his future lifespan could be measured in minutes if that happened. With Fhentar in Jonas’ pocket, the arms shipments could be disrupted at the Republic’s leisure, forcing the Imps to resort to smuggling their own weapons to the planet. That would further antagonize the Hutt Cartel, causing the Empire even more problems.

Within a few weeks, the Empire’s entire Nar Shaddaa network – so carefully reconstructed by Lana Beniko, the new Minister of Sith Intelligence – would be compromised.

A beautiful plan. All it relied on was this handoff going well over the next few minutes. Just in case, Jonas had an SIS security team – disguised of course – standing by just a few minutes away.

The balcony hadn’t been the obvious choice for the hand-off, but Jonas was convinced it would work. When the action was going hot inside, most of the people tended to ignore the balconies; everyone liked a party, after all. He’d spent weeks surveying the surrounding buildings. A sniper from a nearby high point – should the Exchange or Black Sun or even Sith Intelligence choose to intervene – would find no clear shot of the south balcony. Surveillance – aside from that of the SIS, of course – would be problematic with these acoustics. Rox was wired, but any other audio monitoring would be suppressed.

It worked.

To ensure relative quiet on the balcony, a simple ruse had been arranged to distract any potential witnesses. At the appointed moment, a million-credit jackpot would miraculously (and conveniently) hit on one of the Star Cluster’s Kingpin machines to get the crowd’s attention. An undercover SIS operative would then create a diversion on the floor of casino, feigning drunkenness and staging a fight with the gambler who’d won the jackpot. The altercation would draw the remaining bystanders, all but clearing the balcony of potential witnesses and making it an ideal exchange spot. In Jonas’s experience, nothing drew eyes like a fight on the floor of a casino.  

Still, the SIS agent found himself nervous about this operation for some reason he couldn’t quite place. That’s why he’d called in backup to help him observe everything from his post.  

“You know, of the two of us, I’m supposed to be the one with the anxious reputation.” said the voice from behind him.

Jonas turned, giving Theron Shan a rather haughty smile. One of the top agents in the SIS and (technically) still a division head, Theron handed Jonas a steaming cup of caff, which he accepted with genuine gratitude.

“Well, maybe you’ve been rubbing off on me.” Jonas quipped. “I’ve seen you fret on these things more than a few times. Besides, you were the one who needed to get off Coruscant, remember?”

“I know, I know.” Theron held up a free hand. “Everyone’s still upset with me over that mess I made on Ziost.” He sipped his own cup of caff with a shake of his head as he let out a sigh. For a moment, his normally care-free demeanor slipped away, and Jonas could see the guilt weighing heavily on him.  

“I tell you, Jonas, I honestly don’t blame anyone for being angry with me. I should have called in the cavalry the moment I heard from my contact that the Emperor was back. Instead, I got most of my team killed, and that was before Saresh even called in the invasion out from under me.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “What a mess.”

Jonas felt an upswell of sympathy for Theron and his troubles. He knew the SIS agent had only ever done what he thought was right, even if that was exactly what got him into trouble most of the time.

“Hey, don’t beat yourself up too much.” Jonas patted Theron on the shoulder of his trademark red jacket, giving him a smirk. “At least I still like you.”

Theron wrinkled his nose affectionately at his fellow agent, then rolled his eyes.

“Flatterer.”

“It’s true.” Jonas shrugged, still grinning. “And anyway. I did owe you one from that one incident at the Dealer’s Den back on Coruscant.” Jonas attempted to imitate Theron’s reproachful tone. “‘Jonas’ you said to me, ‘Casino jobs are always tricky. You need to plan to the last detail.’ And hey – you were right.”

“Well, at least this time you actually told me what the operation was. That should make it a little easier.” Theron gave him a scrutinizing look. “So you had a funny feeling about this exchange, and decided to call me in for backup?”

“You are here to add ambiance to an otherwise dreary observation post. Even if it is in an unofficial capacity.” Jonas found himself smirking again. “And hopefully, to start the process of rehabilitating your image with the top brass, even if you aren’t actually here officially.”

Theron nodded in gratitude.

“I appreciate that. I know you didn’t have to do this for me.”

“Don’t mention it. Just help me make sure tonight goes down alright.” Seeing that Rox was in position, Jonas turned back to the bank of monitors, noting the chrono indicator.

It was almost time.

Theron silently gave Jonas a thumb’s up signal as the slice command went through the system. From inside the casino came a blast of celebratory music as the jackpot hit, followed by a series of cheers from the crowd. Most of the handful people still on the balcony started making their way inside. The casino was known to offer a round of complimentary drinks for such rare events. Mere seconds later, shouting could be heard, indicating the scuffle had begun. On one of the peripheral screens, Jonas could see Dionne – a junior agent who showed promise and could play the ‘drunken bruiser’ well – shoving the beleaguered and confused Mon Calamari who’d won the rigged jackpot. The Zabrak’s antics drew even more interest from the casino’s guests than the jackpot had, both inside and out on the balcony. Four or five stragglers made their way inside, eager to watch. Jonas smirked at their reaction as he checked the chrono once again. Perfect timing. Within seconds, Rox, their contact, was one of only three people left still standing on the balcony.

Jonas’s eyes narrowed as he regarded the remaining two individuals; a young human couple who were standing in the far corner, holding each other in an intimate embrace. Jonas watched the man and woman carefully; you couldn’t be too cautious in this business. Both were wearing the revealing attire that had become so popular among socialites on Corellia since the battle there had ended three years before; the ‘Euphoric Corellian’, this look was called. Their arms and shoulders were laid bare, though their hands were gloved. The cut of the tunic was provocative, leaving their flanks bared and showing plenty of skin. This duo wore the outfits well, the woman’s was a deep green while the man wore a royal blue.  

He focused on the woman first; a beautiful brunette with shoulder-length hair, fair skin and green eyes that seemed to match her dress. Jonas would place her in her twenties. The Corellian outfit hugged her impressive feminine curves, but Jonas noted the equally impressive lean, athletic muscle of her arms as well. She wore no jewelry; her only accessory was a green purse she wore over her shoulder, and like her outfit, it matched her eyes perfectly. She was beaming adoringly up at her lover, with a dazzling smile that could have made even a Trandoshan’s heart flutter.    

Damn. Lucky boy. Jonas marveled, turning his attention to her companion.

The man was tall and broad-chested; from what he could see, Jonas would normally assume that he worked out extensively. The scarring, however, across his arms suggested otherwise, telling the tale of injuries suffered over the years; this man – like his companion, only in his twenties by Jonas’s eye – was no doubt a veteran soldier. Probably he’d seen action on Corellia during the war. Based on his attire, maybe he hadn’t been regular Republic military but part of the planetary militia or maybe CorSec. His hair was as raven black as Jonas’s, though the SIS agent suspected the man’s might have been dyed. Regardless, he was a good looking fellow, Jonas couldn’t help but notice. He could easily imagine him on a recruitment poster for the military or for some holo-ad campaign, and his hazel eyes were completely enraptured with the beautiful woman in his arms.  

Huh. Lucky girl. Jonas reflected, chuckling to himself.

His initial anxiety about the couple quickly faded; these two were clearly in love and hardly looked like they could be carrying any concealed weapons. They both clearly enjoyed an active lifestyle. He couldn’t pick up any audio from here – the device Rox was wearing was designed for conversations near him – but they were obviously whispering ‘sweet nothings’ in each other’s ears, holding each other and occasionally leaning in for a teasing kiss. They certainly weren’t paying attention to anyone or anything else but to each other and probably hadn’t even heard the jackpot or the fight from inside. They were plainly just enjoying each other’s company until it was time to withdraw back to their room in the hotel for the evening.

Jonas sighed inwardly, trying to remember how long it had been since he had withdrawn to his room with someone special. Almost on reflex, he glanced over at Theron, who seemed distracted scrutinizing another monitor.

No. Jonas thought to himself. Theron Shan had been fun enough on that late night years ago after a mission when they’d each had far too much to drink, but they’d both agreed afterward that it was better that they remain friends. And honestly, Theron was a good friend, one of the best he had in the galaxy. He shook his head to clear it and then turned back to his own screens.  

Regardless of anything else, that young couple shouldn’t be a problem during a simple handoff.

Confirming once more that Rox was otherwise alone, and naturally that he was looking nervous, Jonas turned to the entry door to the balcony. The time was one minute past the agreed time for the exchange; not enough to call it off just yet. This was always a concern for intelligence agents, but it was the price of working with criminals.

There he is.

The Nikto finally walked in, eyes glancing around the balcony, briefly noting the intimate couple in the corner before dismissing them just as quickly, finally focusing on Rox and approaching the Rodian. A quick holo-scan confirmed that he was unarmed; Jonas was confident the Casino’s security was up to that task of keeping lowlifes like Fhentar from carrying weapons, as they’d had far too many incidents of violence here over the past few years. Fhentar himself was a strange story; supposedly he’d been part of a cult on Taris that had worshipped a fallen Jedi years ago. The SIS file on that situation was still sealed tightly, even from someone of Jonas’s rank. How Fhentar had wound up working for Black Sun after his ‘religion’ had collapsed was anyone’s guess.  

Rox folded his arms, trying to give the Nikto a hard look, but to Balkar, it merely came off as petulant.

“You’re late.” The Rodian said in Huttese.

“And you’re impatient.” Fhentar retorted. “Give me a break. Didn’t you hear the commotion? The casino is going crazy right now.”

Jonas couldn’t deny the validity of the excuse, even if he didn’t trust it. It came with the territory of being a spy.

“Whatever.” Rox shrugged dismissively. “You have the disk?”

“Depends. You got my credits?” the larger Nikto wasn’t giving up any ground. It was the normal underworld posturing, practically clichéd at this point.

“Of course.” The Rodian pulled out the high-denomination credit stick from his belt. Jonas hoped the credits would prove to be money well-spent. The SIS budget was not unlimited.  

The Nikto knew the game, producing a data disk from his jacket.

“So who’re you selling this to, anyway?”

As Rox’s ‘tough’ demeanor – such as it was – started to falter, Jonas could almost smell the Rodian’s nervousness from here.

“Come on. I’m an information broker. You know I can’t talk about that. Not when my clients are paying for discretion, anyway.”

Jonas suddenly noticed some distortion on his monitors. He checked the sensors, but they all seemed to be coming up blank… wait.

There. A series of vibrations against the side of the Star Cluster that weren’t accounted for anywhere else; four distinct series in fact. Rapidly heading down towards the balcony.

Theron Shan noticed it, too. Jonas watched as he urgently plugged into the sensor grid through his cybernetic implants. Jonas hit the ‘standby’ button for his backup team.  

Meanwhile, the conversation was still ongoing.

“Ah, well.” Fhentar shrugged, with a degree of smugness. He tapped the button on his chrono-wristband. “If you’d actually told me now, it would have saved us all some time.”

Jonas was hitting the alert button before the Nikto even finished speaking.

“Team two! Move in! Move in!”

He watched helplessly as the four series of vibrations converged on the balcony. A moment later, he saw the tell-tale shimmer of stealth field generators shutting down as four armed figures in sneak-suits had suddenly surrounded Rox and Fhentar, each one attached at their belt to a rope running up the wall. The SIS agent realized immediately that they had rappelled down the side of the building. The Star Cluster’s sensors should have normally picked up the anomaly well before this. Something had gone wrong.

Many somethings were obviously going wrong.  

“My bosses want to know who’s got their eyes on their business, Rox.” Fhentar chuckled. “So my friends here are gonna take you up to the shuttle pad on the roof. I hope you aren’t afraid of heights.”

Jonas’s communicator beeped as the Rodian started to look around, panicking.

“Chief!” Wynnefred’s voice came through. “The kriffing catering trucks have blocked us off! We have to go around!”  

“Dammit!” Jonas’s hand slammed against the table, checking the layout and realizing he’d been outplayed. “My backup team is more than a minute away!”  

Theron just looked up at the array of screens and smirked.

“Mine’s not.” He reached up and tapped the relay on his earpiece.

Even afterwards, even with the benefit of re-watching the recordings at reduced speed, Jonas could still barely comprehend what took place over the next two seconds.

One second, the Nikto and the Rodian were surrounded by four armed assailants, ready to restrain Rox and take him away the same way they had come, all while the young couple in the corner of the balcony continued to bask in each other’s company, completely oblivious to the abduction taking place behind them.

The next second, there was a veritable explosion of movement. The young couple were gone and Fhentar and all four of his accomplices had been knocked to the ground. As for Rox, the panicked Rodian had fallen to his knees and found himself flanked by a pair of bodyguards… each of them brandishing lightsabers.

Jedi. Jonas marveled to himself.

Other things registered to Jonas. The long dark wig had fallen from the brunette’s head - he now observed her short red hair - and was lying on the floor of the balcony, an obvious consequence of coming out of a Force leap. Her purse had likewise been discarded, and he realized that was likely where they had been hiding their weapons. He noted that the woman’s lightsaber was of the fluorescent green double-bladed variety, while the man brandished a pair of radiant blue sabers.

But these were all secondary observations to Jonas, as he watched all four assailants – apparently oblivious to the fact that they were completely outmatched – attempt to rise to their feet and to press the attack, only to be cut down in a flurry of brutally efficient lightsaber strikes.  

Apparently wiser than his fellows, Fhentar remained prone on the ground. Jonas could hear his lamentations through Rox’s audio device.  

“No! Not Jedi again!” he groaned, raising his hands in the air and plainly giving himself up.

Jonas was right about to turn to Theron in for an explanation when recognition dawned on him.

Wait.

Jonas’s eyes refocused on the man. The shade of his hair and eyes were off, and he was missing that distinctive scar going down his left cheek, but his physical build, the twin blue lightsabers and his red-headed companion…

Jonas’s jaw dropped in realization and he gaped.

“That’s the Hero of Tython!” he whirled on Theron.

Theron Shan was doing absolutely nothing to suppress his amusement.

“Yup. Colored contact lenses, some hair dye, and cosmetics. Plus a wig on Kira – his partner – obviously. No one in their right mind would ever expect to see a Jedi dressed like that.” Theron smiled. “I put a scan-blocker in Kira’s bag. Hutt security trains to look for blasters, knives and explosives, not for lightsabers.”

Jonas finally let out an exhale, realizing only then that he’d been holding his breath.

“I’d heard you’d been working with him.” He offered, turning back to his screens as the gears of his mind started to turn. “Not a perfect night, but its salvageable. Rox is still breathing and we took Fhentar alive. It shouldn’t be too hard to flip him, even without the recordings. Not ideal, but he should at least be able to give up some Imperial drop points.”

He nodded, turning back to Theron with a grateful smile.

“Well. Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.” Theron chuckled. “Like you said, something about this exchange felt off. I might have waited too long to ‘call in the cavalry’ on Ziost, but I wasn’t going to make the same mistake here.”

“After all, everyone needs backup sometimes.”

“That we do. Please make sure to pass on my appreciation.” Jonas smiled back, then turned back to the monitoring station.

“So you had Halcyon and Carsen pose as a couple?”

Theron smirked boyishly, obviously pleased with himself at the deception.

“Clever, huh? I was worried they wouldn’t be able to pull it off, being Jedi and everything. But they were great out there. Hell, they could have fooled me.”

Jonas turned away from his fellow SIS agent, regarding the screens as Wynnefred and his team finally arrived to take Fhentar into custody and to deal with the bodies of the four fallen assailants. Despite the Nikto’s importance going forward, Jonas’s focus again zeroed in on the pair of young Jedi.

Halcyon was cautiously turning Fhentar over to the security team. Clearly, the Jedi Battlemaster wasn’t taking chances. Carsen was standing beside him, positioned protectively over Rox. But their postures were aligned towards each other; Halcyon turned just so his wide stance was open to Carsen, who likewise was turned towards him, her eyes gazing up at him affectionately as he conferred with Jonas’s backup team leader.

Theron Shan was one of the cleverest intelligence operatives Jonas knew, and he was nearly as good an analyst. But sometimes, he couldn’t see the forest from the trees.

For once though, Jonas decided to keep his observations to himself.

Well. At least somebody’s going to bed happy tonight. He suspected, with an envious look back at the couple.

 Author’s Notes: I just take it as a given that Theron and Jonas once had a brief thing.

Fhentar shows up on Taris during the Imperial Agent story, serving the memorable Ki Sazen. Obviously, in my legacy, he survived his encounter with Cipher Nine. Unfortunately for him, his new employers don’t appear to be much better than the old ones. Rox and Balkar’s subordinates are my own creation.

The mention of Havoc Squad’s trip to the Star Cluster Casino for the SIS is obviously a reference to the Trooper’s class mission to Nar Shaddaa.

The Euphoric Corellian armor set is a real thing. It’s probably illegal on some planets.

Rodians get shafted in this game and in the greater Star Wars universe in general. So I feel bad for piling on.

Tagging people who expressed interests - @swtorshipping​ , @swtor-writers-guild​ , @raven-of-domain-kwaad​ , @ask-an-andalite​ , @a-muirehen​ , @taraum​ , @theravenassassin95​ , @sleepswithvillains​ , @blueburds​ , @sunnysayshello​

[ginnieontherocks]

Heart of a Killer - Chapter 1 (RDR2 ArthurxOC)

(Author Note: I DO NOT own the RDR2 characters or the story line from the franchise. I only own my original characters & the original content that will merge along since it does run along with the in game story. Please respect my work & do not steal it. I have also posted this to AO3 for those interested!)

Genevieve ' Gin on the Rocks ' Holland was not your average outlaw. She had a reputation for enjoying the thrill of the kill - a confirmed 37 kills, actual kills were still unknown by 1899. Getting out of Sisika Penitentiary, Genevieve gets wind that the notorious Van der Linde gang failed at a ferry boat job in Blackwater led to them being on the run after the gang massacred nearly the entire city. Follow Genevieve on her adventures of love, laughter, death, and massacre.

~~~

Siskika Penitentiary - Spring 1899

“Jackson! Officer Jackson, move those prisoners.” A voice-directed from above, standing in a watchtower. “Officer Benton, kitchens needing staff.”

“Officer Townsend, those rocks ain’t gonna break themselves.”

“What are you standing for? Get moving!” Guards pass through the group of prisoners, Evans Repeaters in hand, just in case any of the prisoners decide to make a threatening move while they work on breaking rocks. A higher-up official of Sisika Penitentiary walked towards a specific group of prisoners, looking them over to choose who will go to Valentine to work.

“You. You with the hammer-” he looked over to a raven-haired woman. “-and you, you’ll do.” Jenkins walked over to the back of a prisoner wagon and opened the back, the rusty door opened with a loud creak. “ We need to perform a work detail out in Valentine. Come on, get in.”

Fellow officers started to herd Jenkins' chosen prisoners into the back of the steel-barred wagon. “Open the gate!” He called. “Come on Milliken.” A younger, dirty blonde officer lightly jogged around the wagon and climbed up beside his higher up. Jenkins whipped the reins and the pair of draft horses pulled out of the central building of Sisika. The group started to make their way through Saint Denis. It was about noon when the officers and prisoners were in the middle of The Heartlands - open wide territory with lush green grass covering the hills, the sound of birds chirping at one another as they started to head towards Twin Stack Pass.

“You know, my wife has acquired ideas significantly above her station. She’s been reading too many god damn books.” Jenkins spoke to anyone who would listen. Genevieve rolled her eyes. If her eyes could roll out of her head, they would’ve fallen out back in Lagras. “I’m personally against education-” Jenkins paused when he caught a glimpse of Millikin looking at him. “- of women I mean and men, I guess. Unnecessary. Doesn’t add much to the world, education.”

Walking along the Dakota River, Jenkins and Millikin rounded a corner and were greeted with a broken down stagecoach wagon blocking their path that reached Valentine.

“Good day gentlemen.” A woman called as she sat on the steps of the broken-down wagon.

“Whoa…” Jenkins spoke to the horses and brought the wagon to a stop, a few feet in front of the blockade. Millikin slowly brought his weapon up a bit for protection. The opposing woman smirked as one woman stepped out from behind the wagon and another stood from inside the wagon, gun pointing out from above the other brunette’s head and had the Sisika guards in her crosshairs.

“Don’t do anything stupid, nobody gets shot.” The brunette stood up from the wagon. “Act like fools and the pair of you will be dead in a minute.” The trio stalked towards the wagon. Neither one of the three was threatened by the guards. “What are your names?”

“Jenkins…and Millikin.”

“Well Mr. Jenkins, Mr. Millikin throw your guns to the ground and get down here,” she ordered as her backup went to both sides, shotguns pointed closely to Jenkins and Millikin. Both officers tossed their guns to the ground as directed. “I’m very glad to meet you. It’s not worth being rash. You boys get paid a salary,” the prisoners tried to catch a glimpse of what was happening in the front of the wagon, though it was a bit hard with the driver's seat blocking most of the direct view. Genevieve’s eyes widened a bit as the voice continued to speak.

It can’t be…

“You boys get paid a salary. You get that salary whether these prisoners escape or not. Your wives presumably want you alive?” The leader stepped closer and closer to Jenkins, intimidating him to take a step back out of fear. “Let them out. Now, please.”

“Okay! Okay!” Jenkins spoke as his hands were raised, showing he was not hiding anything from the gang in front of him. Stepping back with the gang following his steps, Millikin was already a step ahead as he unlocked the wagon’s doors. The prisoners watched in amazement, their hands up as well - out of fear more than anything - as the brunette had taken the keys from Millikin and tossed them to one of the prisoners.

“You all run away now.” The leader stared at Genevieve. “Aside from you.”

The prisoners had taken turns unlocking their ankle cuffs and exiting the wagon as the leader watched them one by one exiting the wagon. “Try to stay out of trouble. This is a stroke of good fortune for all of you. Use it. Now,” she turned back to the guards. “Mr. Jenkins. Mr. Millikin. Be so kind as to quickly run away. Before someone gets shot entirely unnecessarily. Go on! Don’t look back!” The orders barked and both officers hightailed it, not looking back. There was no way this was going to be easy to explain to their higher-ups; how they were ‘robbed’ essentially on their way to Valentine. Once the gang knew that both guards and the prisoners were well out of sight, they turned and looked back at the last prisoner remaining.

“You girls really ain't had to come save me.”

“Ginnie!” Gathering in a group hug, the girls relished at the moment.

“It hadn’t been the same since you got caught.” A brunette with green eyes named Clara spoke. “6 months..”

“I know,” Genevieve spoke, pulling away from the group and wiping the tears off the younger woman. “6 months of hell I endured but…I’d do it all again if it meant keeping you girls and the rest of the gang safe.”

“Ginnie-”

“How is everyone, Lily?” Genevieve looked at her right hand who got her out of the prison wagon. Lily looked her friend in the eyes. “They’re well, boss. We moved the group up a bit Northwest from Armadillo, a nice spot on the edge of Tall Trees.”

“Skinners?”

“We haven’t seen any, but they come and go as they please it seems,” Lily watched as Annie, a spitfire redhead, handed Genevieve her old gun belt to put on. “-last I heard, they were around a few years ago.” Genevieve nodded as the others mounted up on their horses.

“War Machine?”

“Waiting for his master’s call.”

An excited smile dawned over Genevieve’s face as she stuck her two fingers between her lips and whistled for her faithful mount. A minute passed and the ground shook as a bay roan Ardennes warhorse came from behind and let out a loud whinny. Taking the saddle horn in her hand, Genevieve swung up on War Machine and it was a moment of silence for all as the leader leaned down and hugged the thick neck of the horse below her.

“I missed you boy,” she whispered, giving his neck a soft stroke as she sat back up. Looking at the group, Genevieve spun War Machine around and kicked his side, causing the stallion to rear on his back legs and paw the air. “Let’s ride!”

Excited cheers followed and the group was off, crossing the Dakota River and following it downstream, the thunderous hooves sounded as the group rode back towards Tall Trees. Genevieve was back, back where she belonged. It had been months since she was in the groove of her saddle, riding to the rhythm of War Machine’s canter, feeling the wind in her hair. Nothing was going to stop her from seeing her family again.

A half-hour passed before the group was in West Elizabeth, the open plains welcoming them. Lily led the way back to their campsite where their posse of ten called home for the time being. Slowing down to a trot, the group made their way through a part of Tall Trees where they were close to the edge to leave in a hurry if need be, but deep enough where you couldn't see them on the ridgeline.

“Who's there?!” A scout asked, their gun raised at the riders.

“It's us, Annabelle!” Lily yelled in response as she passed Annabelle, only for a moment before the blonde ran ahead into camp.

“Everyone, Lily is back!” she shouted. “They brought Ginnie back!”

Anyone who was currently at camp stopped their current activities and came to welcome their family back from the journey. Chatter filled the air as people asked Ginnie what happened and the tails of her trouble. Giving hugs and gentle air kisses to her family, Ginnie tried to talk to everyone at once but it was chaotic seeing as her posse hadn’t seen her in nearly 7 months.

“Settle down please, everyone!” ordered Lily. “Ginnie, I am sure, had a long day. Please give her a bit to settle back in. We celebrate our leaders' return tonight!” Going back to their camp chores, Lily showed Ginnie where her tent was. “We put you right over here, Gin.”

“Thank you, Lily.” Genevieve followed Lily over to her camp and pulled back the tent flap. Looking inside, it was as if they hadn’t packed up camp and moved across the desert. Everything she owned was in its spot and accounted for. Genevieve turned back to her friend. “I can’t thank you enough for taking care of everyone while I was gone. I know it is not easy-”

“-don’t thank me,” Lily responded. She smiled at her long-time friend. “After the murder spree in Armadillo, well, you had no choice but to sacrifice yourself and protect us. I was just doing what we always agreed on if that chance of you being caught ever happened.” Genevieve nodded.

“I should've been in solitary confinement in Sisika but the idiots never put me there.” the raven-haired woman scoffed with a smile. “Five brutal murders was not enough for that.”

Lily looked at her leader in disbelief and amazement. “Who would be so dumb to not put you there?”

“Sisika.” the girls responded together, emitting a giggle fit.

“To be fair, they couldn’t blame you for it all. Lack of evidence and whatnot… cause you murdered the only few witnesses that weren’t already dead from Cholera.” As Lily turned to leave, she remembered what she had wanted to ask Genevieve. “You ever hear of the Van der Linde Gang, Gin?”

“A bit, why?”

“Not too long ago, they had a big shoot out in Blackwater, a growing town south of here. Big massacre from what I heard. They tried to rob a ferry that docks in from New York, filled with rich folk.” Genevieve let out a hum, interested in this story of this Van der Linde gang. “Rumour has it, they fled to the North to get the Pinkertons off their trail. Annie was out hunting up by Cattail Pond out on her adventures and said a huge caravan of like twenty people passed by. I suspect it is them coming back down to the East to evade their current bounties in the West.”

The Van der Linde Gang, Genevieve couldn’t believe her ears when Lily had mentioned them. She had heard of the group from her time in Tumbleweed but it had been a few years since she had heard hide or tail about them; she honestly figured they had vanished and left the state entirely. If this was true, Genevieve would want to uproot camp again and move them somewhere in the Heartlands. A gang with the reputation that the Van der Linde’s had, trouble was bound to follow and that’s what Genevieve thrived for.

“Interesting.”