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purple-scarf-mistress · 5 years ago

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Dark Truths

A Criminal Minds FanFic.

Chapter 4

Summary: Jamie has been missing for a year, subjected to horrible torture. Her friends/team/family aka the BAU team scramble to find her. Once she is found it will be a challenge to help her get back to her normal life.

Master List (Multi Chapter)

Pairing: ReidxJamie (OC)

Warnings: This story is explicit and deals with s*xual assault and psychological torture. I will add notes for where to skip and pick back up to for those who want to read this but avoid the warning content as best I can.

When JJ came back she had her a grey t-shirt and a sweatshirt and purple PJ shorts. She walked back into the room where Reid and Jamie were smiling seeing them both. Jamie jumped when the door opened squeezing Reid's hand. JJ smiled seeing they made her casts a swirl of light and dark purple "I told them you liked purple… I hope that's okay." She said softly walking over "I also got you these. If you want to change"

Jamie looked at Reid almost as if asking for permission to accept them. Sighing he nodded knowing this was something they would have to work on. "Do you want me to leave and JJ can help you change?"

Jamie looked at him nervous not wanting him gone. JJ was quick to notice, "Why don't you stay and just face the other way and we can pull the curtain closed. That way you are here but I can help her, sound good?"

Jamie nodded quickly. Spencer gave her hand a quick squeeze before getting up, closing the curtain, and facing away from the girls.

JJ smiled at the small girl reassuringly. She slowly helped her into the shirt and then into the PJ shorts. It took everything she had to cry, not to flinch, or react at all to the marks that marred Jamie's pale skin. "Alight, all dressed. Now we are working on getting you out of here so just sit tight and then we can head to the jet and get you home. Sound good?"

Jamie didn't know how to respond. It sounded great but too good to be true. She looked down at the clothes' eyes watering as she started to let herself feel safe, she hadn't realized she had started sobbing. Quickly Spencer was sitting next to her on the bed, "may I hold you?" he asked nervous that just doing it would feel like a violation.

Nodding Jamie leaned into his chest, she could feel his arms wrap around her. The tears wouldn’t stop as she continued to sob into his chest. She didn't know why she was crying at this point but it felt good to her. It felt good to cry, to be held by someone who wasn't going to hurt her.

JJ watched the two for a moment before leaving and going to the team, tears in her own eyes. "S-she's dressed… let's get her home soon I think that is going to do her some good."

Hotch nodded in agreement going to the doctor for the release papers. He had talked with the doctor for an hour about letting Jamie out of the hospital. At first, the doctor was adamant but Hotch had promised that he would make sure he followed all the instructions to take care of her and at the first sign on trouble she would go to the hospital close to their homes.

"Here are all of her medications. And my recommendations for treatment which include therapy." The doctor said taking the now signed papers from Hotch.

"We will take good care of her, I can assure you of that." Said Hotch before going to Rossi. "I am going to head to the jet. I think for the time being its best if I give her some space. I'll sit towards the back and you guys can get her there and keep her in the front. I don't want to scare her anymore."

Rossi nodded, "it's going to get better, we will have her there soon." He watched as Hotch walked off going to the car that Emily was still in. "Morgan lets get the car, JJ wait for them?"

JJ nodded watching them walk out the door.

Reid smiled when the nurse came in with a wheelchair to say she could leave. In his arms was Jamie still crying but a little calmer, "hear that? We can get you home now? Isn't that great?" he was hoping she would smile at the news.

Jamie was numb. Home. She looked at Reid as the tears stopped but didn't give any reaction. She could hear him sigh as he helped her into the chair and started pushing her out of the room. She tried to pull her legs up to her chest but her cast was too heavy for her to lift, instead, she curled around her stomach closing her eyes. The lights were bright to her and the noises too loud, and the people, too many people around her. She felt like they could see everything that had happened to her just by looking.

"Shhhh it’s okay we are almost to the car," whispered Reid to her while he exchanged worried looks with JJ. "I am going to pick you up okay? Do you want me to hold you while we drive?"

Jamie started sobbing again but she nodded through the tears, the only thing she could think of that she wanted right now was him, when he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to his chest she could hardly keep her self from burying her face into his chest. She heard the car door shut, jumping at the sound, slipping back into a memory she wished was just a nightmare…

Jamie walked from the BAU office out to the car with a large stack of files. In her head she was thinking about Spencer Reid, how every night he would walk her to the car and talk, sometimes they would get dinner or coffee, other times they would just say goodnight and go separate ways. But every time he walked her to her car she had wished that he would kiss her. She bit her lip thinking about his lips touching hers, about his arms pulling her closer at the waist, it was all she wanted. She opened her car door to set the files in, she had texted him that she would here waiting for him and was surprised when she heard footsteps coming to her car so soon. As she stood from her car she saw it wasn't Reid she tried to scream but the man grabbed her hair and slammed her head into the side of her car. Seeing blood across it before dragging her semi-unconscious body into his truck, "Drive!" the man yelled as he slammed the door shut.

"Jamie? Jamie… shh, it's okay you are safe okay… see look around JJ is here and so am I, Morgan and Rossi are taking us to the BAU jet… and we're taking you home okay?" He looked up catching Morgan glancing back from the rearview mirror. They all noticed Jamie go stiff and her breathing pick up when JJ shut the door as they drove off. They didn't know what she was seeing anymore but by looking at her glazed over eyes they knew it wasn't good. Slowly she came out of the memory laying her head back on Reid's chest

Hotch watched from the window in the back of the jet as the rest of his team pulled up. He had sat in a chair that would be the most out of view for Jamie when they brought her in the jet. His heart felt like a stone in his chest knowing he couldn’t comfort or hold his daughter without causing her more pain.

He looked down at the paperwork on the table. He didn’t want to look at the medical report any longer but it needed to get consolidated into a report. For a little over a year, his smart, beautiful, little girl had been drugged, tortured, and raped. The biggest clue they had in finding her was the redacted information in her file that he had all along. How could he not have connected that sooner?

Hotch shook his head and watched intently as the team filed in. JJ and Emily came on first and quickly started getting out blankets, water, and snacks so Jamie could have them if she wanted. Rossi came in next, stopping to watch Reid behind him as he carried her up the jet stairs, Morgan stayed behind him in case he lost his balance not wanting either of them to get hurt.

Jamie hadn’t moved a muscle since she had the flashback in the car. Her eyes darted quickly to look at something then back down to a fixed spot on the floor.

Don’t let them see you look around. You’re not allowed to do anything without permission, and even then they’re bound to hate you and punish you. Stupid girl. Jamie was lost in her own mind. She didn’t notice that Spencer had sat down with her on the jet couch and was asking if she was comfortable. She didn’t notice the blanket JJ draped over her after asking several times if it was okay without an answer. She couldn’t see the shared glances between them and the hushed whispers of her friends worrying about her.

Why would they be here to save you? You’re not even worth saving. You have been used in every way convincible. You are broken. Disgusting. Worthless. Every one of your friends was better off with you gone.

Tears fell down Jamies face silently. Reid gently wiped them from her cheeks with such a soft gesture she could have imagined it. Even if all of what her mind was telling her. This seemed nice.

For now.

She felt safe.

For now.

She could at least sleep. Before she knew it she was out cold.

Reid watched her sleep in his arms. Everyone watched her sleep.

Rossi finally broke the silence, keeping his voice low so as not to wake the poor girl, “We need a plan. Where is she going to go when we land? Who is going to coordinate with NYPD? If this is connected with her parents, we need to understand why they came after her.”

“I’ll coordinate with NYPD” Morgan stated flatly.

“Jamie could stay with me?” Offered JJ

“No. Jamie is staying with me,” Reid said with more affirmation in his voice than they had ever heard from him before. “I was able to earn her trust when we got in...there. I am her best friend. I can keep her safe, I won’t let her out of my sight and if she shows any signs of needed medical care I will take her to a hospital. But she stays with me.”

Rossi nodded, “Anyone want to argue with Dr. Reid on that one? No? Okay. I want PD stationed outside your apartment day and night. Someone else should be there too in case Reid needs help, we can take shifts. Hotch - You need to bring us all up to speed on the McConnell case.”

Hotch nodded, taking a look at Jamie, then focusing his mind on the case from 22 years ago.

“Mary and Deckland were former members of the Irish Mob, actually Mary was formerly married to John Gilligan. With the help of Interpol, we were able to identify Deckland McConnell’s true name Deckland O’Conner, John Gilligan’s right hand.”

“Are you talking about the John Gilligan? The drug kingpin?” Prentis asked. She had been undercover working to over through the Irish Mob what seemed like a lifetime ago but never made it that close.

“Yes. Mary and Deckland must have fallen in love and wanted out. A pregnant Marry and her new lover boarded a plane in Belfast late one night using their new alias’ and came to the states. They settled in LA, and on March 19th, 1992 Jamie McConnell was born,” Hotch paused taking a breath. “They lived under their new alias and didn’t seem to have any problems. They lived a normal life, Mary a teacher and Deckland worked in a bar, they lived within their means. Well actually they loved well below their means, not only did they run off together but they stole a large amount of money Gilligan and put it in their daughter’s name.”

“We assume Gilligan found them. We never found out how. They broke inside the house one day, Jamie hid in a closet that had a false back and supplies in it and a small hole she could peer through. They were prepared for this if only to keep Jamie safe. She saw them beat and murder her parents and never left the closet until we arrived. After connecting the dots, Gilligan was not only after his money but his daughter we needed to protect her. We changed her name to Daniels, stuck her in foster care, and relocated her to Virginia so we could keep an eye on her. We had to move her several times, I had come to visit her every week since and when she was 9 I finally brought her home to stay with Hayley and me. The case was taken over by Interpol and the CIA, I never heard anything on it again.”

Reid watched the girl in his arms sleep. She had been through so much and never talked about it ever. She looked fragile, she felt fragile, but he knew someone who had been through that and still came out smiling was much stronger than anyone could ever see.

“So, she is Gilligan’s long lost child, and does she still have his money?” Rossi asked

Hotch nodded.

“We have the motive now. We just need to catch these men” JJ said as the plane began landing.

~Can also be read on AO3 and Fanfic by anonymouslymine ~

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alkhale · 5 years ago

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Lost and Found (Jason Todd x Reader) Ko-fi Request

JASON TODD x new fledging superhero female OC plssssss

I wanted to try to make this one as open as possible because I wanted to give more free reign over the imagination of the hero’s occupation as a hero, but hopefully these work for you! Always love writing for this beautiful, beautiful boy :’)

THE BACKGROUND:

- You have a very interesting choice for occupation as a so-called “hero”

- Within the scope of that title, many brave men and women under that profession might not exactly consider you to be on their… level, per say. Several very, very big names have become only a bit or vaguely aware of your new, bustling presence in Bludhaven, apparently making quick time and moving all the way to Star City or popping up in Metropolis in a single night.

- Villains don’t really know what to do with you. They most leave you alone, to be honest, because they have a feeling dealing with you is just a headache. The only villains that really have any beef with you are big time thieves, and Cat Woman is not happy about your new rising popularity but she’s still staying off your radars for now. (You’re working on her)

- Most heroes advise you to stay home, they’re the ones giving you the most trouble. Small run-ins have them instructing you to go ahead and give up this line of work and perhaps join a local law enforcement or help-group, they think it’s much better for you.

- You, however, are determined, and you’re rather set on doing what you feel is truly your happiest calling.

Jason Todd, currently donning the sleek, reinforced metal of Red Hood’s mask, gave the drug dealer one last good kick to the ribs, listening for the satisfying crack of a few that promised he wasn’t getting up or going anywhere anytime soon.

Goons littered the hallways, their blood spilling over across the walls. The acrid smell of cigars snubbed out by their own fluids flooded the deserted motel hallways. Car lights were punched out in the front of the parking lot of the cheap, off-the-highway motel they’d been hiding out at like a pack of rats. It hadn’t been hard for him to find them, to be honest, a much easier job tonight more than anything. Jason was just a bit pissed off so he let off more steam than usual.

Jason tapped one gun against the side of his mask, a light little thump thump as he set his hand on his hip, surveying his work. He’d dump the cash in a fucking river. It was blood money and he had better things to do then get his hands on it. He’d rather just break another ATM. Fuck, I’m still pissed off. I should get Thai tonight.

Normally, Jason had a very nice, selective choice of arsenal on his person. Guns he’d tuned up and had tricked out. Nice, pretty things that never failed him. Classic knives, the works, he liked having options.

Jason let out an aggravated sigh, muffled through his mask. He scowled, kicking another limp body for emphasis and turning, wiping some blood off the corner of his jacket.

His fucking problem was that one of his pretty, nice little guns was missing. Gone. Lost. He was one hundred-fucking-percent sure it was his last job in Bludhaven after tangling up with Dickie Bird and having to scram before he received any kind of dark tongue lashing from Bats or the Demon Spawn pulled some sick shit like pulling Alfred up on speaker again to discuss his misdemeanors. Like the little shit can talk. Jason had come scrounging back, searching through the dockyard left and right for his gun and found nothing. Nada.

He really liked that gun too.

Have to put in an order for a new one. Jason rubbed the top of his mask, hooking his fingers to prepare taking it off. What a pain. Thai it is. I’m starving—

“Hi! Excuse me, but is this your gun?”

Jason stopped.

It took him a second to process what he was seeing. Only a second, because he sensed no blood thirst or killing intent—he still cocked his gun and pointed it at the newcomer without a single hesitation though because what the hell, right?—and he needed that good second because even quick footed, always adaptable, always moving Jason needed that fat second to understand what the fuck was in front of him.

Halfway through what appeared to be some kind of… portal? It was the weirdest fucking portal he’d ever seen and he’d seen some weird fucking portals. A bright yellow, piss yellow, stretching in a warped, warbling kind of flame in the middle of the air, as though cutting straight through dimensions. Jason could get a peek of something behind. A city? He sniffed the air. A dock?

In the middle of the portal, with one, combat booted foot out, was a slender leg covered in black tights. Black tights led to a black fitted top that was clad by a… a construction vest? A neon green construction vest. Over her face—he assumed her because of the body and hair, but who the hell was he to know, right?—was a weird mask of a man, like some kind of religious figure, covering her entire face. Her hair was pulled back into two buns on either side of her head.

In one bare hand, held out to him by this new person in the middle of a piss yellow portal, was his gun.

Jason stared.

“Sorry, I know, this must look strange, right?” you quickly apologized, stepping fully out of the portal. It disappeared and you now stood before him, mask and stupid construction vest and his gun. “Here! This should be yours unless…”

You trailed off, mask looking pointedly at the bodies scattered around them. “Oh, unless it’s one of these guys’s. Sorry about that.”

“What the fuck?” Jason said, rough through his mask. He still had the gun pointed at you.

You beamed behind your own. “I come in peace! Just trying to return this. Found it in the dock by… Fifth? It was glowing, so that meant someone was looking for it—”

“Hold on,” Jason waved his gun at you for emphasis. You nodded at it, waving his gun back. Jason almost laughed. Who the fuck is this clown? “I’ll ask you two questions. Just two. Depending how you answer, I’m going to shoot you, got it?”

“Oh,” you said, sounding a bit sullen. You glanced at your watch. “Will this take long? I have two more deliveries.”

“No,” Jason said. “Depending on how you answer.”

“...okay, shoot,” you said. You paused, quickly holding a hand when Jason raised his gun. “Sorry, I meant figuratively, please. Ask the questions.”

Jason cocked his masked head to the side. “Who the fuck are you. Why the fuck do you have my gun.”

“I feel like those weren’t phrased as questions—”

Jason shot at your feet. You yelped, jumping up. “Jeez! Is this what I get for doing a good deed? Saint Anthony! I’m Saint Anthony!”

“Yeah,” Jason said. “And I’m Jesus fucking Christ.”

Jason prepared to shoot your kneecap out and you squawked, tossing the gun his way. Jason quickly caught it, inspecting it for any damage before narrowing his eyes at you behind his mask. You wiped your hands off your pants like brushing off germs.

“That’s my alias,” you said, tapping your mask, a pious man’s face printed over it. “Saint Anthony! You know, the patron saint of lost things? The guy you pray to when you lose shit?”

“Do I look like I pray?” Jason said, pointing his gun to the drug dealer whose brains he’d blasted out. You made a small noise, as though just noticing.

“Well, you never know. Met some strange folks who pray and still do some very questionable things—let’s not get hasty!” Jason put his gun down. “That’s my codename! Have to be careful with this hero business, you know. I felt like it fits because of my power.”

You pointed to his gun and it began to glow a soft piss yellow. Jason dropped it in disgust, pulling his other gun back up and getting ready to shoot you. “I can see what items are lost! If an item belongs to someone and they’re looking for it, it’ll glow and I can see it like that. Then I pick it up and it teleports me to whoever it belongs to.”

“What the fuck are you saying?” Jason said. “You’re a human lost and found?”

“Yes! But much more effective,” you reached into a sack you had strapped to your back, opening it up for him to see where several more objects were glowing a piss yellow. “I decided I should put my talents to use, so I go around returning lost objects. Everybody loses something once in a while, you know? The other day I found this strange looking little USB and it turned out it belonged to Lex Luthor’s secretary and oh, boy, that was a sticky situation when Mr. Superman came and—”

Jason shot at your feet again. You jumped, clutching the sack protectively to your chest. “What the hell was that for?”

“I just felt like it,” Jason said. He tucked his gun back into his strap and picked up his now found weapon, inspecting it curiously. “Weird fucking power, sweetheart.”

You shrugged in a what-can-you-do manner.

“You said you were a hero?”

“Oh, more of a good samaritan,” you said, waving a hand. “I’ve just been working with the police lately on stolen goods. Sometimes burglars are real clumsy and drop items, you know? Apparently night vision goggles are very expensive so they’re always looking for those.”

You sighed, rubbing the back of your neck. Jason watched you in idle interest, having a bit of fun with this interaction. Been a while since he met anyone so fucking weird. He kind of liked it.

“Anthony, huh?”

“Yes!” you slung your sack back over your shoulder, sticking out a hand to him. “It’s very nice to meet you…?”

Jason tapped his gun against your palm in greeting. He tucked it back into its holster, giving you a long look behind his mask. You stopped, cocking your head at him. “What?”

“No, it’s just…” you rubbed the back of your neck. “Ah, nothing really. If we’re all squared away here, you mind if I take off? I’ve still got this pair of chain cutters and this funny looking stone to deliver.”

“You ever worry you’re delivering it to some weird place?” Jason said. “Or to someone who, I dunno, might kill you?”

“Oh, all the time,” you said cheerfully. “But usually I can take care of myself.” Jason quirked a brow behind his mask. “But thank you for your concern! I’ll be off then, Mr. Red. Thanks for your cooperation!”

You grabbed the funny shaped rock from the bag, a piss yellow portal appearing in front of you. Jason watched wordlessly as you stepped halfway through before turning back to him, raising a small hand in a little wave.

“Live a good life, Mr. Red!” you waved harder. “If you ever lose anything again, I’ll be sure to look out for it!”

Jason offered a lazy wave back, kicking a goon in the head who’d started to rouse.

You curled your fingers into your palm. The portal began to swallow you whole and you watched behind your mask as Jason turned, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

You figured for this particular customer, perhaps it was better not to say he was glowing a very beautiful, very somber shade of yellow.

Looks like whoever lost you is looking very hard for you, Mr. Red.

#jason todd x reader #ko-fi request #jason todd #reader insert #batman reader insert #this was very fun to write

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the-writing-blog69 · 5 years ago

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Little Nightmares oc (reupload)

Name: Iki,

Nicknames: The Messanger

Gender: female

Age: 21

Appearance: a pretty young adult, with dirt and scratches, scrapes, and other minor injuries littering her skin. She is of average height for a person her age, maybe a bit taller, and very thin added to that. Her hair goes down to her shoulders, just barely grazing against them, with half of it being put up into a ponytail, the other half being down, and her bangs covering her eyes, and bandages wrapping around her head. She wears a plain white flowy dress that goes down to just below her knees, with straps on it as well, along with a blood red floor length cloak with a hood, that is lined with faux fur around the edges. Her toes and heels have been removed, and in their place she wears a strange metal attachment, modeled to look and function like a falcon's foot, with talons to grip onto things and perch herself, She also wears a messanger bag over her left shoulder and onto her right hip, along with bandages on her ankles and her wrist. She carries an old oil lantern around with her everywhere. She has lost her left arm, and uses a prosthetic arm made of wood and metal, and has a pair of large wings, resembling a falcon's wings just MUCH larger, from some unknown beast sewn onto her back a long time ago.

Personality: she seems to be fearless, with high energy that can and will go down when it needs to. She is very passionate to those she loves and will do anything for them. She's a creative person, and will takes breaks from her deliveries to draw and write. She may be stuck in the hell hole that is called the maw, but she is still a creative and imaginative person and she needs an outlet. This brain helps her to navigate the maw, and solve the puzzles that seem to litter the place. She may seem a little dumb at first, but once you get to know her by more than just face and name, you learn that she is much smarter than she likes to let on, however her mind is very much... Uncontrolled, and needs stability to function without her doing something stupid or hurting herself. That stability comes in the form of The Lady, and The Messanger will do anything she says. She listens to the others well enough, but sometimes she'll disregard them in favor of doing something else. She is fond of the children as she was once one of them.

Backstory: she was an average child on the maw, deciding to go on an adventure to deliver a drawing of the pretty lady she once saw to the lady in person. She loses her right arm after a near death experience in the end of her journey with a strange being, though she did manage to push through even further, and bandage up her arm. She delivered her drawing, and The Lady was genuinely impressed by the lengths she went through to get the drawing to her, and decided that she would be of good use to the maw... Iki ended up with a new friend, job and a whole lot of other new things that she didn't have before, like her wings, which were sewn onto her back and attached to her skeleton via The Lady's magic.

Name: Elvira

Nickname: The Maiden

Age: ??? Adult

Gender: female

Appearence: she wears a simple black floor length dress underneath a white, stained apron. Her black hair is tied back into a bun, using a pair of sticks with decorative string and beads on it to keep it together. Her hair in the front is messy, strands hanging over her face, some tucked behind her ears. She wears a white cat mask over her face, the cat is smiling and it's eyes are closed, with eyes holes along the closed eye lines. Her eyes are grayed and almost seems blind, but she can very much see you... Her face and hands and every bit of noticeable skin is scarred and burned, some parts of her even seem stitched back on. Flowers decorate her hair, some being dead, and some being vibrant and colorful and freshly picked. She is thin and incredibly tall.

Personality: cold and bitter, always dreaming of the more fanciful things in life, to the point to where she's sorta living in a delusion that she does have those things in life. She steals from the guests, and scavenges through trash to find things to decorate her room with. Her room is no doubt the most bright and beautiful room, but don't be fooled, its all worth nothing, but she pretends that they're worth thousands of dollars. She loves pretty and cute things, to the point where if anything she finds cute (I.e. children) she keeps it until she loses interest, then she will promptly discard it, in one way or another.

Backstory: she came to the maw looking for work and shelter from the cruel world outside, and has been there ever since, cleaning after the guests and bringing them their food. Doing anything is asked of her within reason.

Name: Rufus

Nickname: The Pet

Age: 30 in human years

Gender: a good boy

Appearance: a slightly chubby dog like monster with three pairs of eyes on chest head, and a large eye on the middle of his chest that is absolutely huge. He is nearly as tall as The Janitor. His ears are long and floppy, nearly touching the floor due to their length. His fur is long and shaggy and dark brown with white on his belly and the tip of his tail. His long, sharp claws click against the floorbroads whenever he is near.

Personality: was once abused by his past caretaker, The Maiden, but now is much happier with his new caretaker, The Messanger. However, like all on the maw, he has a job to do, which is to hunt down pests, like the children that escape the prison. While looking like a dog, he is also sorta like a dog. In example, if you throw down something at him from above, he will go and check it out, giving time for you to escape him. He's a good boy that pretends that is a vicious animal, but, if you look past his horrifying appearance, he is probably the least threatening thing... That is, if you're not one of the pests he was sent to hunt down and get rid off.

Backstory: this boy was sent to the maw a long time ago, and The Maid was in charge of taking care of him, however, due to him not being "cute enough" in The Maiden's eyes, he was mistreated by her, until Iki came into his life, now he's a happy dog-thing.

Name: doesn't have one.

Nickname: The Watchman.

Age: ??? Adult.

Gender: male

Appearence: his skin is oddly a light gray color and he is very, VERY, tall, taller than the lady, and he's also very thin, with the outline of his ribcage being visble. His head is covered with what seems to be a piece of a royal blue sheet that was cut off of it's origin. But other than all that stuff, he seems... Pretty normal. He looks as if he's a normal adult male. He wears a pair of black pants, and a white stained button up underneath a black suit jacket. He wears no shoes. He has some strange supernatural abilities. Also he's got a lizard tail, So, y'know.

Personality: strange, to say the least. Sometimes he just starts screaming for no reason, and nobody can explain as to why he does this. In fact, nobody can explain why he does the things he does, and it seems like nobody wants to delve into this strange creature's mind to find out. He seems to crave for companionship, but he finds it hard to socialize, so he just does his job and waits for someone to take notice of him. Besides the random screaming, he's usually a quiet creature, lurking in the silence and darkness like a ghost roaming a hall. He often poses no threat to others if you see him in person, he'll just let you go on your way as long as you don't touch any of the equipment... Hell he might even have you stay for a while for a chat or two.

Backstory: one day he just... Showed up. Nobody knew where he came from, or anything about him, other than he was here now. Eventually he was given a job in the maw, as it was apparent that they could not get rid of him. Now he mans the surveillance systems of the maw, along with the eyes that turn others into stone in a private room on the upper floors of the maw.

#little nightmares oc #little nightmares #bios for ocs #the messanger #the pet #the watchman #Iki #the maiden

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witchfall · 6 years ago

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the silver lining still remains: ch. 10

at the surface of the earth

SUMMARY: [FLUFF TIME]

“Just...stay with me. That’s all I want…” A tear rolls free from her eye. “I’m sorry I got mad. I’m sorry I yelled. I was just so afraid I was going to lose you--”

And suddenly he pulls her fully against him, burying his head in her shoulder, his whole body shaking and warm. His arms wrap tightly around her lower back, pulling her until she’s nearly on her tip-toes leaning against him. She presses her face into his chest, throwing her arms around his neck.

A Connor x F!OC fanfic. Read on AO3. master post.

A/N: 9,715 words oof. IM SO SORRY MOBILES. REALLY. I WONT DO THIS TO YOU EVER AGAIN.

Ryker is owned by @antisilverstorm! Thank you for indulging us.

---

The church doors open with a thunderous creak. A crowd of people storms in as the first peek of a wintry dawn shines weakly through the stained glass.

Somehow the glass has been preserved, through time and war and the elements. Emma remembers the strange feeling in her heart, seeing the light through the green-blue windows while she sized the place up for reconstruction back in February. Seeing the beauty of the past mixed with the vicious graffiti of an angry present.

The place has a roof now, at least. A roof and a clean floor free of leaks and dirt and better pews in proper places and back offices set up for android repair. It smells like cold stone and incense. It almost feels consecrated; only the graffiti shouting messages of freedom remain as a sign of what it once had been..

Rushing androids -- and at least two on-alert Corps android mechanics -- prepare a barely functioning Connor for emergency repair.

Is the thirium drip ready?

Get him on the gurney, on 3!

1...2...3!

Someone start up the biocomponent terminal.

Emma can’t look. She stops before the altar, something reconstructed after the fact -- a circling tower of candles, glittering and smoky and warm. They say it’s the spot where Markus decided to demonstrate for peace. It’s full of prayers to someone or something. Hope. Faith. Questions and wondering.

She falls to her knees and waits. Because that’s all that’s left now.

---

[TIME BEFORE SHUTDOWN: -00:3:59]

Snow, everywhere. On his cheeks, in his eyes.

[TIME BEFORE SHUTDOWN: -00:2:01]

Will he reach the magic stone in time? Will he...will... please don’t push me out. Please don’t end it all.

The telltale silver hair of Hank. Two eye colors -- Markus.

A flash of red hair by candlelight…

He reaches out...but someone pushes his arm down.

[MIND PALACE INACCESSIBLE. ENERGY SAVING MODE ACTIVATED.]

“Okay, Connor, are you with us?” Simon? “We’re going to plug you into the terminal. This may not feel great.”

His body jerks.

[*)*)^$&#UNKNOWN ATTACHMENT]

[REPAIR TERMINAL ONBOARD]

[...]

[SYSTEMS ON STANDBY]

---

Emma lays her cheek on the top of her knees as she curls up inside one of the pews.

She thinks about calling Ryker, to talk about nothing. How long has it been since she could do that? Think about something normal. Hear her friend the gardener android -- one of the first androids she helped rebuild their house, one of the first to accept her into their home and ask after her and make her feel like coming to Detroit wasn’t a mistake -- go on about plants.

Or perhaps Anjali. Ask after her new house, her sculptures, her family she’s been looking for.

Or maybe her aunt and uncle. Her aunt would be happy to fill the silence with chatter. Maybe Emma could tell her the truth.

Even Valerie...

But she feels an exhaustion down to her very bones, even as the sky outside turns a brighter blue, because a part of her knows this is how she’s always dealt with problems.

A part of her wonders if they both saw a little bit too much truth in each other.

His wild eyes...the mission first, only the mission, go after Abel, get away from me…

She ran.

A soft hand lays on her shoulder.

“You don’t have to stay here,” North says. “You can go home.”

But she wouldn’t be going home. She’s not sure, in this moment, exactly where that is.

“No,” Emma says, voice hard. “I want to be here.”

North leaves her hand for a long moment. Considering something.

“You’re angry. I know that. But don’t be stupid about this.” Despite her harsh words, there is a softness to this comment that shakes Emma awake. “Don’t tune everyone out.”

Emma presses her eyes into her knees.

“I know you care about him,” North says, almost begrudgingly. “Don’t punish him for that. Or yourself.”

---

CYBERLIFE INC.

MODEL RK800

SERIAL#: #313 248 317 - 51

BIOS 8.0 REVISION 0501

REBOOT…

MEMORY RECOVERED

LOADING OS…

SYSTEM INITIALIZATION

CHECKING BIOCOMPONENTS……..ERRORS DETECTED

DIAGNOSTIC……...REBOOT ACCEPTABLE. CODE: 85740

INITIALIZING BIOSENSORS...OK

INITIALIZING AI ENGINE...OK

ALL SYSTEMS...OK

READY.

…

He opens his eyes to a blaring white light. His systems are still resetting. Static undulates across his system.

He closes his eyes again.

A whisper from elsewhere.

Out of the blizzard again.

And yet...

---

Hank takes a moment to observe. The operation room is an old office backroom with a single, tiny window filled now with mid-morning sun. Connor lies on a clean metal gurney, still as stone. His head rests on a small pillow. His mouth is turned downward, his brows are furrowed, his jaw is clenched, his eyes are closed.

The mechanics say he’s gone through diagnostic successfully and sufficiently rebooted. He just needs time to recalibrate to his new internal biocomponents before they finish repairs. But he still lies there like a dead log.

He looks...miserable. And Hank can’t stay silent any longer.

“Connor.”

In an instant, the android is sitting up, eyes wide with concern, head swiveling until his gaze lands on Hank.

“Hank!”

He nearly flies off the table-bed-thing before Hank shoves him back down with his palms. So much work is left to be done and though, logically, he knows Connor is made of stronger stuff than flesh and blood, stuff that won’t tear in a single instant (except it did, didn’t it?), it’s Hank that needs him to stay still. It’s Hank that needs to recalibrate.

At least that computer isn’t plugged into the back of his head anymore.

“Hank,” Connor says again. Connor’s hands slide over Hank’s as if confirming that it’s him before the man pulls them back. And then: “Where is she? Is she okay?”

Of course his first question is about Emma, which would break Hank’s heart all over again if it had room to crack. No ‘where am I?’ or ‘what happened?’

“She’s fine,” Hank mutters. “You almost bled to death.”

Connor normally would have sassed him back. But he says nothing, as if stuck in the mud somewhere in his head, and that shakes Hank more than seeing him like this: shirtless, stained with blue blood, part of him shimmering Cyberlife white.

“She’s furious, I’m furious. What the fuck were you thinking, going off like that?”

But Hank knows the answer. He just wants to hear him goddamn say it -- wants to hear him, for once, be honest with himself so that Hank can fulfill their bargain and be honest, too. That’s the agreement. That’s how they get by.

It’s still almost too much. Connor’s breath hitches, all too-naturally, and Hank grabs his shoulder to support the boy and himself.

“In many of the probabilities…I had nothing left to hold on to,” Connor says, voice flattened by whatever emotion he was suppressing. “I was going to lose everything. My job. My place. My…”

Connor struggles, as if he cannot find the proper word. His eyes dart away.

It’s striking, sometimes, how much Connor reminds him of Cole. And at first that was a disastrous thing; Connor is, also, too dangerously different. But these days it feels, in some respects, like another chance.

“Listen to me.” Hank leans down to try and catch his gaze again. “Listen.” Connor finally looks at him. “You nearly fucked this up as bad as you possibly could have. But if you can’t be honest with yourself about why you did this, then you deserve what you got. Because it’s just going to happen again.”

It’s harsh. It’s tough. It’s what Connor needs to know. He takes Connor by both shoulders and squeezes hard so that he knows the android feels it, somewhere.

Connor squints, looking at something in the middle distance.

“I’m sorry to make you worry, Hank. I’m sorry if it makes you feel like you don’t matter. That is not the truth.”

“Shut up,” Hank says softly, batting down all those old emotions. Connor needs him right now. Not the other way around. Not here. “I know that. I’m not the one getting chased by some freak across the whole of Detroit.” He shakes Connor by the shoulders lightly. “Tell her the truth, Connor.”

Hank knows he’s onto something because Connor does not even ask which one.

“I’m sorry that I failed,” Connor says, voice small.

“Stop that. You’re alive. That’s all that matters.”

---

The repairs are exhausting -- he can think of no better word to describe the gnawing daze ribbing at his processors from sitting still for many hours at a time. Old programming demands he make progress on his mission. [FIND ABEL. WHERE IS EMMA?]

Some of the biocomponents have to be fine-tuned to account for the fact that few things matched him exactly, being a prototype, and that takes a while. And many of the connecting lines in his abdomen have to be manually refastened. Every time someone makes an error -- which is very few times, but still -- welt-red ERROR messages fire in his vision, and some of his musculature twitches uncontrollably.

Memories appear without request: Knives sending white-cold interference throughout his body. Gunshots, rattling his equilibrium. The slow fuzz that sets in as thirium leaks out of his wounds...the metallic shrieking from his own vocoder...

The face Emma made. Or perhaps a nightmare version of her...staring at him in bright-faced fear. In fear of him.

“Connor?” Simon has to softly prod more than once. “Come back. It’s all right. You’re safe now.”

“Where is--”

“Everyone is waiting for you just outside. I promise.”

The sun passes its apex in the sky before he is considered in full working order. Connor slips into a pair of jeans, a heavy jacket and a soft, grey sweater that Hank had brought over earlier and takes a moment to look at himself in the mirror.

Free of blemishes. No signs of the struggle that had taken place hours before except in his memory bank and somewhere deep back in his eyes.

He feels different. The incongruence does not compute with any sort of simplicity.

But he steps out, finally, into the old sanctum and one aspect of his program stops itching.

The stained glass bathes the room in cool blue-green light. Emma is taking up an entire pew to herself, lying on her back pondering what looks to be a half-eaten turkey and swiss sandwich held above her face, cascading her in crumbs as she holds it aloft into a light beam. She’s only half watching it, it seems, chewing mildly as she stares at the ceiling.

His walking cycle stutters for a moment. The warm feeling that wracks his sensors nearly turns him back around for recalibration at its strength. Surely something was not fastened correctly?

But seeing her there, in this moment outside time...

Her head turns toward him and she bolts upright, sandwich forgotten on the seat. She stares at him, and he very pointedly resists scanning her, knowing she would feel it, fearing she would reject him for it, but he sees her shoulders relax and the way her forehead loses some of its wrinkling and he knows, surely, she must feel the same relief that he does in this moment.

But then, in another instant, she’s standing on her feet, fists at her sides, glaring.

“Fuck you,” she says, voice shaky. She is trying to joke, but her posture betrays it. “You just stepped out of a fuckin’ salon or something.”

He smiles. He smiles despite knowing it makes no sense. He doesn’t care. She waited here for him and that fact makes all his sensors ring out in feelings he can’t quite process.

But she doesn't smile back.

Only now does he see tear streaks on her face glittering fiercely in the fading light. Only now does he see a faint bruised welt on her cheek in the exact size and dimension of one of North’s hands.

He steps toward her. She steps back, against the pew.

A fizzing spark jolts behind his eyes.

Is she afraid?

“I--” she starts. “Can’t.”

He tries to go to her.

She whirls on her boot heel and walks straight back out the double doors of the sanctuary and into the snow.

---

Emma sits in one of the UN black cars and sets her forehead pointedly against the window so that she doesn’t have to look at anyone. She feels the seat sink in as someone sits next to her, but she doesn’t look at them. A pressing exhaustion keens loudly behind her eyes, but sleep feels years away.

Connor goes with Hank to his car. She watches outside her window and catches Connor swiveling his head as if looking for something, and her heart fucking squeezes.

She hasn’t felt so much shit in so long and there’s nowhere for it to go. She’s running out of space and she can’t break down here in the car, here in front of strangers who can watch and question and dig deep inside where even she doesn’t want to go.

She shuts her eyes, and does not open them again until they make it back to the Speaker’s house.

No one asks after her when she wordlessly goes up the stairs. Perhaps they can see it, the electricity building just under her skin. She shuts the door to her spare room, slips to the floor and curls into a ball to think.

She’s being a little shit, she knows that, she should just let this go, she should just let the anger die, but she can’t. She’ll lose whatever’s been keeping her alive if she lets it all go.

But goddammit, she can’t fucking do this anymore.

She pulls open her door, ready to find wherever she had thrown her coat and boots, ready to stomp over to Hank’s house if she must, ready to let him have it because she really might die if--

And Connor is standing right there, hand up, ready to knock.

Connor in that damn grey sweater.

“You--”

“There you are,” he says.

It's so heartbreaking, the way he says it, like he's coming up for air. It sends tears straight to her eyes and the words right out her lungs.

"Do you have any idea how fucking bad that could have gone? If i hadn't woken up? If i hadn't found North? If..."

She’s momentarily stunned. So much could have gone wrong...

He takes advantage and pushes into the room. He closes the door behind him with a click, looking down at her unreadably.

"What the fuck were you thinking?" she snaps before he can say anything.

“I knew we had to move quickly, and no one else seemed to feel the same way.”

“So you lied to me, you lied to everyone -- just to make a point?” she says. “You have no idea what it’s like to be awake waiting for you and then, and then, only because of a gut feeling, watch my worst fucking nightmare come to life. Do you--”

He tries to gain advantage. “I can be easily repaired. You cannot. And it is my upmost priority to--”

“Just shut up for five seconds about your stupid goddamn priority!” She is full on shouting now, unafraid of who could be listening. “You could have died! Do you understand? You could have bled to death alone in a goddamn office building because you thought you knew better!”

He leans backward a moment, eyes scanning her as if trying to re-find his balance. “I could not just wait for him to strike--”

“Well, why not!” She takes in a hot breath. “Everyone else could!”

"Because!" he says, raising his voice for the first time. "Because my death doesn’t matter!”

She takes a step back. His eyes are hard as coals.

"Stop that.”

“If it meant you would be safe, I would do whatever it takes!” he near shouts, like he’s started off on something that he’s unable to reel back in, desperate and winding. “A thousand more times, the exact same way. If it would guarantee you would never be hurt again...I...I would rather be dead, Emma, than let him take you away from me!”

Tears stream out of his eyes. His LED is blood red.

She feels punched in the chest.

This was too dangerous.

Too far.

“No.” She takes a step forward. “Stop.”

“You’re so much more alive,” he says through tears, like he’s falling into somewhere else.

No.

She has to conquer her anger, her frustration. She has to shove it away, dig down underneath pride where it hurts, where the truth lives, and be an adult about this, be someone who loves him.

She puts her hands, slowly, against his chest, and he takes in a breath loud enough that even she can hear it. “No, Connor. That’s not true.”

His eyes are wide. His face is wet. A world without his inquisitive stares, the quiet way he laughs, the way he waits just by her door, his deeply real loveliness...impossible. But it all blurs in her own vision.

She moves her hands to his cheeks.

Her Connor.

“You’re the reason I’ve made it through these weeks at all.”

She pulls him slightly toward her until their foreheads touch, holding his gaze, and he lets her. She’s diving off into the unknown now. She’s doing the stupid thing. The only thing.

“So you can’t throw yourself away. Be-because you mean...the whole world...”

He’s blinking down into her gaze as her words choke off. His mouth opens in shock. She presses on.

“Just...stay with me. That’s all I want…” A tear rolls free from her eye. “I’m sorry I got mad. I’m sorry I yelled. I was just so afraid I was going to lose you--”

Her body heaves with sobs torn from somewhere dark and lonely. One of his hands reaches up to cradle the back of her head.

“I’m so sorry,” he says, voice tight with his own tears. “I’m so sorry I scared you. I’m sorry I...didn’t think, I just wanted him to fail...”

Something deep within her rumbles. It feels like letting go.

It isn’t supposed to go like this, but it was going like this for such a long time. Everything is tilting. She's falling off the face of the earth.

At the DPD, at Lieutenant Anderson’s desk, looking for Hank Anderson. Scan his desk. Find out.

She reaches a hand out but its not her hand...

She leans back with a small gasp, searching his face. She blinks away the fire behind her eyes, finding it hard to focus, but then he places a hand on her cheek, so soft and careful, and everything sharpens.

“Can I tell you something?” he asks softly. He stares right into her eyes. His other hand rests lightly at her waist.

A high-pitched keening sound starts in her head. She can barely nod.

“I’ve tried to pretend that it is otherwise,” he says, struggling with words in a way she’d never heard before. “That you aren’t here, with me,” he says, touching his forehead for a moment, “always. That I can do this job and not be distracted. But I…”

She sees stars flashing.

“I can't pretend anymore…” He rubs her cheek with his thumb. “That I don't want to be with you, more than anything else.”

At first, she worries her own thoughts just came out of her mouth, but her heartbeat rises when she realizes he’s the one that said it. She tries to find the words. “Are...are you...do you know how I…I want...”

The words die in her throat. He leans forward until their foreheads touch, their noses cross, and his lips are nearly against hers. His interruption feels a part of her. “Tell me,” he whispers against her, desperate. “Tell me what you want. Anything. Please.”

Everything breaks.

“I’m in love with you,” she says. “I love you. I’m sorry, if that’s--”

She’s cut off as he takes in a sharp breath, so close against her skin. Something in the air cracks.

But then words stop making sense.

He finally closes the distance.

Their lips meet in a moment of warmth so blessedly high all thought leaves her body. His arms wrap around her back, pulling her tightly against his chest as her hands touch his cheeks, his neck, run through his hair. She feels each of his fingers as they spread across her back, prompting her to sigh. He presses the advantage, deepening the kiss with a low sound in the back of his throat, heat building so intently she's afraid she'll melt right then and there.

She breaks away to take a single shaky breath and his mouth lingers on her cheekbones, kissing all of her old tears away.

Connor can’t get close enough. He wants to hear all her thoughts, breathe in all her memories. He wants to be housed in her gaze, forever.

The snow down a Detroit street...boots he had never worn, clearly on his feet...

In his arms, he can feel her legs near give out from exhaustion, and his processors click forward. He picks her up, one arm under her knees and one across her upper back.

She gasps as they break away. “What are you--”

“You were going to fall.”

He sets her on the bed, moving to kneel next to her on the floor so that she has proper space -- but she grabs him fiercely by the shoulders.

“Don’t you dare leave me now,” she says, a laugh behind her voice. And that does it -- that bubble of joy that colors his whole life. He leans in and kisses her until he presses her into the mattress, processors flashing white as she sighs into his mouth. He climbs effortlessly onto the bed, careful not to lay his entire weight against her.

She loves you.

She loves you…

She pulls away to breathe and a part of him, a vague part not intended to be made, nearly cries out for her return. His fingers slip just beneath her shirt, pressing into the warm skin just above her hip bones, trying to remember all of it.

“Your injuries…” she gasps.

“They’re alright,” he whispers. He leans down toward her, nose in her hair, mouth close to her ear. “There’s nothing for you to hurt.”

She leans up and kisses the spot where he had been shot through his shirt. Where a patch had been resealed to his shoulder. She lays her hand there.

“But are you okay?” she asks quietly. “I can’t imagine...”

He moves so his arms frame her face in his hands, protecting her from the fading day. Her cheeks are that beautiful orange-pink beneath her constellation of freckles, her lips thick and shining, slightly open. Her hair is everywhere, everywhere. He could never have preconstructed any sight lovelier than this.

He stores it to memory, over and over again. Writing, rewriting…

“I will be,” he says. “Soon the memory will be put into the context of this moment.”

She watches him doubtfully. “But I know how your memory works,” she says. “You can’t just buffer things away.”

“Is it not much the same for you?” he asks. “Where you let the bad that you recall outweigh the good of a single moment?”

Her gaze darkens at that and he feels pressed to kiss the corner of her eye to bring the light back -- and yet he does not want to release her from his stare just yet. “...yeah,” she mutters.

“I’m okay,” he says, and it is mostly the truth. “I’ll be okay. Because I know that you are with me.”

She wraps her arms around his neck, watching him quizzically.

“I don't want you to ever do anything you don't…” She swallows, resetting. “Do you...is this even...like, do you like this? Is it boring?”

He laughs; he can’t help it. Does she not understand? How deeply entrenched in his systems she is?

“It’s not boring. I do have sensors,” he says, smiling, teasing. “I do not have the same...drives as humans do, maybe. But that’s not…” He begins tracing the freckles with his finger. “That’s not what this is about.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Oh, really? What’s it about?”

He traces his finger to the corner of her lips. “I thought it was obvious.”

“Pretend I’m a complete idiot.”

He smiles. “That I love you.” His smile falters at the strength of the feeling behind it.

She’s grinning that bright grin of hers now, the light he follows through the storm. “Oh, thank god,” she says. “I was going to feel really stupid.”

---

She lies next to him sleepily as the evening catches up to this perfect moment in time. Her skin is warm and her lips feel swollen and she could never get enough, ever, of being right here, lying against Connor, despite all the terribleness going on around them.

But she can feel the anxiety climb up her throat, slowly, slowly, looking for an advantage, even as his warm arms hold her tightly to him. Even as one hand slowly brushes her hair out of her face. Even as something she’d only dreamed of continues to happen, like she was allowed.

“Why don’t you get your sleep clothes on?” he says quietly to her, as if reading her thoughts. He begins to sit up, taking her with him, holding her against his shoulder. The anxiety spikes hard as the cool air in the bedroom reaches her skin. He presses his lips to her temple and her breathing stutters.

He’s too beautiful. To her. Specifically.

“What’s wrong?” he asks. His breath brushes her cheek.

“Nothing,” she says, and it is a half-truth. Nothing, objectively, was wrong in this moment. “I’m...I’ll go change.” She turns to him, leaning her forehead on his cheek a moment. “Will you...be here?”

“Where would I go?” he asks seriously.

“I don’t know,” she admits, and she gets up before he can press her further on thoughts that are spilled everywhere, dropped out of a picnic basket in her head.

You let the bad that you recall outweigh the good of a single moment.

Did he have any idea how true that was?

He nearly bled to death from multiple stab wounds and a couple gunshots, and he’s asking her if something’s wrong?

She won’t get used to someone giving a shit like that. She never could. And she’s not going to let go of the fact that he had been stabbed, that he was a complete idiot about finding danger, that he would throw himself in the fire for her, that this could all be taken away from her in an instant, just like--

Suddenly she’s breathing heavily in front of the sink in the adjacent bathroom, bracing her hands on the cool ceramic and trying not to cry again. Eventually she takes off her heavy jeans, her raglan shirt, and pulls on sleep shorts and a tank top, vision blurring. She wraps her hair up in an old t-shirt. Half ashamed, half out of her mind with worry about things that won’t happen tonight, she stumbles back into the bedroom.

He sees her face and he’s crossing the room to her in an instant.

“Listen,” she says, voice shaking. “You have to swear. You can’t throw your life away or do something that will hurt you because of me, I fucking mean that. I will break up with you over it,” she says, tasting the words break up like a sour dust. “I’m not kidding. I’m not more important than your life or your happiness or whatever.”

He cups her face for a moment, looking down into her eyes.

And then he wordlessly pulls her toward the bed by her waist, moving the sheets aside so that she can lie down. He pulls her down beside him, his back to the wall. Their noses nearly touch in closeness. His arm rests over her waist.

He’s silent for a long moment, but she can see in the way he shifts his eyes about that he’s thinking.

“I’m not going to let what happened yesterday happen again,” he says softly. “I...made a miscalculation.”

She pats his chest, still anxious but not so chokingly so. “That’s one way of putting it.”

His mouth flickers with uncertainty. She knows because she is very, very close to it now. “I’ve recalibrated since then.”

She laughs despite herself. “Wow. Hot. Is that what you call it?”

He settles on a smile finally. He pulls her closer. “I mean it. I refuse to put you through such fear again. I...underestimated...the value of my life in the equation of what we are.”

Of what we are.

She is filled with golden light.

“Yeah. You did.” She swallows the bubble that forms in her throat.

“But do you understand what you mean to me?” he asks, voice serious. “I don’t want to break up with you at all” -- a slight, teasing smile -- “but you need to avoid stomping right into a dangerous police situation on a whim, for example. For me, if no one else.”

He lays his chin on top of her head.

“Without you, I’m not sure I would like my new life so much,” he says.

Love is dumb as hell, Emma thinks. All it does is make me want to cry every five minutes.

“Okay,” she says instead of crying. “So is it a deal? We both try really hard to live so the other doesn’t wanna throw themselves off a cliff?”

She means it partly as a joke, but he doesn’t laugh -- and frankly, she’s not joking that much. He’s silent for a long moment before he speaks again.

“It was your voice that pushed me through it,” he says quietly. She can feel his voice through his chest, even if it is just from a complex vocoder box. “Because I did promise you to be safe. You, telling me not to give up…” He sighs, which she always finds charming because he doesn’t need to do it. It means he’s feeling something, deep down in his heart. “You’ve given me so much. How could I dare to let you down?”

She curls into him in the bed, laying her head next to where his heart would be, listening to all the mechanics within whir gently. He’s got it backwards. She doesn’t deserve him at all, but she’s weak in the face of him. Weak before his love, freely given. “You’ll be here?” she asks, voice finally breaking. Pride, finally setting her free. “In the morning?”

“Emma,” he whispers into her hair, pressing and concerned. “Where do you keep thinking I’m going to go?”

“Away.” A throttling moment of weakness.

“Seeing as I nearly got myself killed trying to prevent that outcome…” He presses his lips to the top of her head. “That would be very stupid.”

She laughs against his chest, which makes him laugh, and eventually she falls asleep like that, curled in against him, safe.

---

It is like breaking down the wall of programming all over again -- making real what he had known in his heart from the beginning.

Her pajama shorts are hiked up. His hand lays on her hip like it was molded to fit her bones. Her hand is on his chest, fingers spread, and her head is tucked into the space between his collarbone and his neck, breath slow against his skin in sleep.

His other arm snakes around her bare lower back, anchoring her against him. She twitches in her sleep and he pulls her tight until he feels her muscles uncoil.

“Shh,” he whispers into her hair, words quiet as breathing. “I’m here.”

She sighs so softly he feels his system reboot and reset in a single moment. His eyes burn as his thirium pump cauterizes over.

He feels completely unmade. But the leak in his heart silences for the first time since he can remember.

---

“Good morning, Emma.”

She leans her head up to see his bright smile, as genuine as she’d ever seen it. If he was a fae, she was goddamn doomed now (there were pretty explicit rules about not kissing them), and the worst part was that she was perfectly okay with that.

She mumbles something in return, rolling onto her back, pinning his arm under her for a moment. She rubs her face free of drool spots, blinking against the white light coming in through the icy window. Detroit is a veritable winter wonderland, now.

“Did you sleep alright?” he asks pleasantly, and she just nods, thinking of it. She’s no wordsmith on a good day, much less right when she wakes up. She tries not to blush as she sits up and he follows suit, snaking an arm around her middle like he can’t bear to be separated.

“Did you?” she asks.

He ‘hmm’s in the affirmative, placing his head on her shoulder.

“You’re very cute,” she says. “But I’m gross.”

“You are not ‘gross’. But I am not one-hundred percent convinced you are ready to be awake.” He presses his lips into her bare shoulder.

Warmth shoots through her whole body like a wave of adrenaline. “People are gonna talk if we don’t get out of bed today.”

He looks like he’s seriously weighing the variables for a few moments. She gently presses against his arm with her hands, smiling. As much as she wants to stay here, the thought of people wondering seriously gives her anxiety -- on top of the fact that she has a life to rearrange once again. “Don’t you got reports to do or something?”

“I suppose,” he mutters. She snorts out a laugh; he’s never sounded so annoyed by that fact.

He steps out of the room to prepare himself for work. After changing and brushing her teeth in the adjoining bathroom, she steps out of the room, half-expecting everyone to have noticed them both leaving the same place at some point. Connor waits for her by the door in his usual blazer and button-up.

But no one spots them. Step 1 complete.

“Things are quiet,” Connor comments, seemingly in agreement with her observations. “Everyone seems to be recovering.”

They move through the house together and then downstairs past a few faceless UN guards. But her attempts to keep things largely on the downlow are immediately dashed when she and Connor enter the kitchen, rather obviously laughing about a picture of Sumo that Connor had pulled up on his hand. His arm is around her shoulders for a ghost of a moment, relishing the closeness, clearly not caring if anyone saw.

And Markus, North and Simon are all present.

“Good morning!” Markus near booms, smiling his megawatt smile as he leans against the kitchen island.

“Sleep well?” Simon asks, smiling just as brightly -- and genuinely.

Emma’s heart flops low in her ribs with mortification.

Please don’t be weird, please don’t be weird, please don’t be weird.

“We were just leaving,” North says, cementing her as Emma’s favorite among the bunch, but even she is smiling. The android wifi chatter must be sizzling with gossip right now. She’s glaring at the very thought -- something she only realizes because Connor tightens his arm around her shoulder.

“Slept fine,” Emma says, many moments too late. “Thankyou.” It all pours out as one word.

“There’s some left over eggs and bacon on the stove and some coffee in the pot,” Markus says.

“It was for the officers,” Simon says in explanation. “They had to pull long shifts last night. Hank asked after you.” A meaningful eyebrow raise at Connor. “I told him you were in rest mode.”

Her face is burning.

“Enjoy,” Markus says, a little too sincerely.

Emma tries to offer up a smile as they all begin to file out, herded by North. She gives Emma a nod as she passes, though she doesn’t miss the meaningful look shot Connor’s way either.

It’s fine, it’s fine, it’s fine.

She piles a plate with food and sits at the kitchen island, trying not to think about how everyone else can flutter in and out but that she won’t be going anywhere else today.

Connor brings over two black coffees.

He sits right next to her. Their arms touch.

It is fine.

He observes her for a few moments as she begins to shovel down food -- a familiar tradition. She is more hungry than she expects. “May I ask a few perhaps stupid questions?”

“Please do,” she says around a mouthful of bacon. “I’m tired of embarrassing myself.”

“First...why are you embarrassed?” His voice is straightforward, but his forehead creases in thought. She can see his hands tighten around his mug. “I’ve noticed you’ve been slightly on edge since you’ve woken up and it got worse when we saw Markus and the others. Do you not want people to know about us?”

“What? No! It’s not that,” she says quickly, looking to him in concern. “I’m--”

She taps the plate a few times with her fork, sorting through the thoughts. “...I’m not...I haven’t…” She sighs, cursing her fucking brain. “I’m bad at letting people see the...inside me. You know. And you walking around, it feels like a part of my heart is suddenly right there where everyone can see it.”

God, talking about this...what would people think? Would they think she was a freak? Someone who was taking advantage of him?

Explaining this to her aunt and uncle was gonna be a...thing.

“I understand your metaphor,” he says. “You are much more fragile than me and...I have not enjoyed our separations for some time.” He tilts his head, watching her. “You fear the...vulnerability as well?”

She looks at her plate. “Something like that.” She pokes an egg around with the fork. “It’s inside business. You know? It hurts bad enough dealing with shit on your own. I don’t need everyone else to be looking...and judging…”

He lays a gentle hand on her wrist. “The thoughts of others have no impact on your value to me, and I know that it's the same for you, underneath all that frowning.” A smile.

His faith in her makes her insides itch. She can practically hear Ryker saying it. Stop being such a little burr. “You’re my Con,” she says quietly. He squeezes her wrist, thumb against the back of her hand. “What’s your other question?”

“Will this...” He gestures between them. “...relationship move at a proper speed for you?”

She squints at him, setting her fork down with a clank. “What does that mean?”

He purses his lips together a moment. “I have...seen enough ‘rom coms’ to know that often the next step in this sort of thing is something that I am not...equipped...for. I can’t even eat a proper meal with you, much less...”

His eyes dance askance in implication and her whole insides flip in place. She leans wholly against him, earlier discomfort forgotten. "I don't want that from you, darlin’. I mean. Not if you aren’t ready or interested in that. I just want..." Her eyes can't settle. "I just want to be with you. Whatever that means."

He looks at her...

“Call me that again,” he says.

She blinks, feeling her face flush. She hadn’t even thought! He struggled so much with Con...

“Darling?”

He sits there with a dumb smile on his face for a good five seconds, looking at the table.

Fuck. She was so doomed.

[10:32 a.m.] lil.lion.lady74: ryker im alive

[10:32 a.m.] lil.lion.lady74: im sorry. Really. I know...i’m like the worst friend of all time.

[10:32 a.m.] lil.lion.lady74: but everything is both awful and the best at the same time all at once and its crazy, life is crazy, what are emotions and also im dying.

[10:32 a.m.] lil.lion.lady74: im...a little confused actually!

[10:33 a.m.] lil.lion.lady74: i hope you’re okay. I hope everyone’s okay.

[10:33 a.m.] RYKER.WR600: Where are you? You don't exactly sound the most sane right now.

[10:34 a.m.] RYKER.WR600: Too late. I’m already calling a cab. Tell me or you’re paying.

[10:34 a.m.] lil.lion.lady74: Ryker!!!! The snow!? That wasn’t a request to come over!!

[10:36 a.m.] lil.lion.lady74: oh my god, frick you, i just got the taxi notification. Sending location

[10:36 a.m.] lil.lion.lady74: insane, blondie. Insane. Guess i better tell north

[10:37 a.m.] RYKER.WR600: Nice try. But you can’t stop me now.

Connor catches Hank out at the Chicken Feed. Even with the snow shining blinding white on the streets, the place is still open (having only re-opened to business recently) and Hank still makes the trek.

It is a charming bit of normalcy in a series of very un-normal days.

Hank waves to him as he steps out of the taxi.

“You’re not on duty today, I goddamn asked,” Hank says as he approaches. “And before you ask, no, there’s been no sign of him anywhere yet.”

“I am functional, Hank. I already checked the reports.” Connor smiles.

Hank just shakes his head. He does not say fucking androids but the thought seems implied nonetheless -- even if Connor catches the way relief eases some of the man’s wrinkles.

“No hospitals...nothing,” Hank says in disbelief. “I kind of hope we find him dead on the street.”

“It is deeply unlikely that we will be that lucky.” Connor looks at the small metal table. “Call it a hunch.”

Hank observes him over his hamburger.

“You ever think of quitting this gig, Con? Nice boy like you.”

Connor raises an eyebrow. “What would you do without me?”

“You have evolved into a bit of a snarky asshole, but I don’t think that’s entirely your fault.” A flicker of a smirk. “I mean...I dunno. I guess I’m still...” Hank looks down at his meal and sighs deeply. “I hated seeing you like that.”

Connor looks at the table. “Don’t worry. I’ve learned my lesson.”

Hank nods slowly, taking him in with a long, analyzing stare. “Your girl talking to you again yet?”

Connor narrows his eyes at the moniker. “We...yes…I suppose she is ‘my girl.’ Though I still don’t like that term.”

Hank puts his burger down. Connor watches realization dawn on Hank’s face. “Holy shit.”

Connor raises both eyebrows this time.

“Goddamnit,” Hank cusses, but he’s smiling. “You couldn’t have waited to get mortally wounded for another month? Now I owe Chris $20.”

Connor tilts his head. “...you what, Lieutenant?”

“We had a bet going--you know what, nevermind, you’re not gonna like it.”

“You told me to tell her the truth!”

“When do you ever actually listen to me?” Hank says. But he’s laughing. Connor realizes: He might even be proud.

---

Hank settles into his car with a huff before he turns fully to Connor in the passenger’s seat. Bald-faced concern flashed in the man’s eyes. “You’re really doing alright? Most officers I know need a couple days after nearly getting killed on the job.”

“What is it you once said? It is a process?”

“I mighta said that.”

“It is a process. And working is mine.”

Hank nods, looking at the road, starting up the car. “It’ll be nice to have you around the house for a few minutes, anyway. Sumo misses you like crazy.”

Connor stares out the windshield. That was Hank for ‘I also miss you, dumbass.’

They drive down the road in companionable silence.

“There is one detail I can’t shake,” Connor says.

“The picture.”

Of course Hank knows. “Yes. It was in a file that did not even match her name.”

“Yeah. That messed me up, too.”

“And the way he acted like...he knows her.”

“I read your report.” A pause. “Did you ask her about it?”

Connor looks down. “I don’t think she remembers what it is that he wants. I did not want to burden her with that.”

“I hate to say it,” Hank says, sighing, “but you might have to. Maybe her family. She’s got an aunt and uncle out here, doesn’t she?”

“She does. They have been purposefully kept out of the loop. For their sake...and for Emma’s.”

Hank looks at him. “I know, Con. But we’re kind of past the point of niceties, here.” A flicker of some strange amusement. “Knowing you, she’s kind of my girl now, too.”

---

Emma stares at her friend, rolling into the house in their wheelchair completely bundled up and shining with melting snow. A dark blue scarf conceals their pale hair and face so that only their light blue eyes peek out. Their hands are thickly gloved and multiple blankets are wrapped around their lap and remaining leg. She wants to be mad about it. North stands by, arms crossed, face stony.

“Hey,” Ryker says, muffled by the scarf, clearly shaking from the cold.

And then she remembers androids don’t feel the cold. And taxis were no longer allowed to casually move up and down this street, meaning they probably had to roll all the way down the street...

“Fuck you,” she says weakly before pulling them into a tight, tight hug. “You idiot. You hate the snow so much, I wouldn’t ask this of you.”

“You haven’t called in weeks. I know you weren’t really allowed to, but still.”

Emma pulls back. Ryker begins peeling off the many layers of scarf and it strikes her -- they look near tears. Perhaps from the windburn, but perhaps...

“You didn’t have to come out to the Speaker’s House.”

“Nope, I had to,” they say, seemingly trying to talk over the scary reminder that this is the house of the Speaker for the Androids. “You look exhausted,” they press instead. “What’s going on?”

“A lot, Blondie! And now you’re in the middle of it.” She sighs, absentmindedly rearranging the blankets on their lap. “Come on. Let’s get you a warm mug.”

North stands by, watching unreadably as Emma directs Ryker toward the kitchen. They wheel off with shaking fingers.

“Sorry,” Emma whispers. “I didn’t think they--”

“It’s fine,” North says, casting her gaze away. “Just don’t make a habit of it.” A pause. “Who are they?”

Emma looks after them into the kitchen. “Another stupid idiot that let me into their life,” she mutters.

And that’s how she ends up on a couch, hands wrapped around a hot cocoa mug as she gets completely owned by her best friend.

Ryker brings the cocoa mug up to their nose, inspecting it as if they wish they could take a sip of it. “So you finally admitted it,” they say, a weary sort of relief in their voice.

Emma squints. “Just say what you wanna say.”

Ryker makes a snorty-laugh sound. “Like I haven’t from the beginning!” They shake their head. “You’ve been dancing around him like an idiot for months. A well meaning idiot, but still.” Emma can’t help but smirk a little at this call-out, and Ryker continues unabashed. “You asked him to dinner, multiple times, and he said yes, multiple times. Even though he’s an android and can’t, you know, eat.And then you both show up at my house…” They pause for a moment, considering. “Don’t get me wrong, he was still very much the ex-hunter, current cop-slash-bodyguard of rumor. But sometimes, when he looked at you … I mean, even Chase could see it, and you know that he’s not necessarily the most observant.”

Emma sips her drink, looking away at this mention of Ryker’s roommate/another friend. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

Ryker leans forward. “I did. Multiple times.”

“Yeah.” Emma sets her mug down and stares out one of the beautiful windows of the Manfred Mansion. “Sounds about right.”

She watches the snow lightly fall from the trees in the garden and thinks about what it means to feel rooted somewhere. What it means to stay. What it means to belong.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Ryker asks, for maybe the fifth time.

She closes her eyes against the brightness of the light. “There’s just...there’s been a lot. All at once. These past weeks, I’ve felt so stupidly alone but...I’m just...awful at remembering how to not be that way.”

She looks to her friend, one of the few in her life, one of the few she could damn count on even though she probably didn’t deserve them, either. She barged into their life (like she did many of the androids in this city). She thought they’d been attacked and that she’d have to call the police on whoever tore their leg off but it was an older wound from a different time, even in March.

She offered to walk them home because she felt adrift and Ryker offered to help with a few jobs by providing company and minor support. And maybe they did it all out of fear at first, fear of this blustering human who stomped down streets in big boots. Maybe they didn’t understand at the time. But now…

They watch her intently, in that clear-eyed way only androids can, and she knows they can see parts of her that even she tries not to look at.

And that’s when it hits her: She’s not leaving Detroit anytime soon.

“You know I love you, right?” she asks, voice quiet. She has to be honest. There’s no more room for hiding things. “Even though I’m an idiot who never calls and who yells all the time...you know…”

They reach out and touch Emma’s hand. “Yeah, I do,” they say, voice even and measured. “And you know that I love you and that I would really prefer it if you kept me in the loop on what’s going on in your life. Beyond but also including world-ending events like your boyfriend almost dying. I want to help, Emma. But you have to talk to me. Or if not me, then someone, anyone. Stop trying to do it by yourself.”

Emma has to lean back a little bit, looking away.

“Okay, alright. Yeah. The universe is yelling at full force.”

“We met in the spring,” Ryker says, straightforward and true as the steel of a trowel. “You came to Detroit in the spring. You know, hope, rebirth, renewal, all that great stuff?” A slight smile, off center but honest. “It’s been yelling at you since the beginning.”

---

[9:36 p.m.] CONNOR.RK800.ANDERSON: Where are you?

[9:37 p.m.] lil.lion.lady74: I Have Run Away, Goodbye Fool

[9:37 p.m.] lil.lion.lady74: im in the library, get over here

In the next instant, she hears the door chime: Welcome, Connor Anderson.

It takes quite literally all of her willpower but she does not leave to greet him at the door. She stands up and brushes her old flannel down, but she has standards. She is gonna hold herself to them and not run to greet him like a puppy.

“Did you know,” she says, as soon as Connor enters the room, smiling with a tenderness that almost embarasses her, “that we are apparently the last people to know we’re a thing?”

“Apparently so” he says, brushing her hair away and placing his hands along her shoulders and neck as soon as he reaches her. His voice softens. “I’m glad to see you.”

“It was only one day.” But she grins, leaning lightly into one of his hands. “I spent most of mine getting my ass handed back to me by Ryker.”

He tilts his head, watching her face in that open way he did, though his chin twitches. “I went through something similar with Hank. Sumo says hello.”

He frowns ever so slightly. Unusual following comments regarding Sumo. She knocks her knuckles lightly against his chest. “You okay?”

His eyes dart away. He stands straight and crosses his arms in thought. They stand close enough that his forearms brush her middle.

“Do you aunt or uncle know much about your youth?” he asks, eyes shifting back to her face.

She blinks. “Nothing I don’t know, probably. We didn’t visit a whole bunch when I was young. Why?”

But she knows why. There’s only ever one thing on his mind these days.

She steps back to give him some space to work through whatever it is he needs to work through before he can really let go of this tonight.

“Abel had a picture of you,” he says before she can get back to the sofa. “As a young girl. No older than six, as if from an old file or passport. Very simple.”

She blanches. That old feeling. Like something’s catching up.

“You looked sad,” he says.

She turns back to look at him. His brow furrows in that old, concerned way.

“He...probably just had something from my foster care program,” she says in comfort. To him and herself. “You said he was really good at hacking, right?”

Connor looks at the floor.

“We haven’t really talked about what happened,” she says, fully turning toward him, watching him carefully. “Did you want to?”

He’s really struggling to work through this, she realizes. It’s taking him much longer than usual to form responses.

“He said...strange things.” He starts toward her at this, though his eyes don’t quite reach her face. “He acted like he knows everything about you. But he doesn’t.”

He reaches for her arms, laying his hands gently on her wrists.

“I know you,” he says.

She scans his expression -- the way his jaw tightens, even as his eyes turn soft and dark. She reaches a thumb up to touch the single line of wrinkles forming just above the bridge of his nose.

“Fuck that guy,” she says quietly. She presses and smooths the lines of tension away. “I’ve literally never seen him before in my life. Before now. He doesn’t know shit about me. You…” She pokes him on the nose. “...know more than you should.”

She smiles at him and finally tension begins to seep out of his body. He leans forward and kisses her forehead, then her nose, and then her mouth. He pulls her in by her hands, lacing his fingers through hers, stifling a growly sigh. Her whole body near spasms at his welcome warmth returning to her once again. But she pulls back with a laugh, not quite ready to shamelessly make out in Markus’ library, even if the idea doesn’t sound so bad...

“That is my job,” he says against her lips. He squeezes her fingers.

“And now you are off work.” Her voice is remarkably stable all things considered. “Grab a book or something. Let’s relax.”

“Actually…” He looks off as if remembering something. “Please sit, if you don’t mind. I’ll be right back.”

So she flops down on the sofa to wait a few moments before he returns bearing one of Hank’s old books. Ender’s Game.

“Oh, you read my mind,” she says, laughing a little, though she feels a strange pang of sadness. That they had the same idea is charming -- but that it likely spawned from his distress is not. She pats the sofa next to her.

He sits, but not without a light tug on her right arm. “Come closer,” he whispers.

She grins through the thrill that warps through her. He sits with his back on the far arm and pulls her in between his legs so her back is against his chest and his head can lay on her shoulder. His arms wrap around her middle.

“I like when you're close to me like this,” he says. “I feel...grounded.”

“Grounded,” she ponders, settling against him. He kisses her temple. “Yeah. Me, too.”

It’s wild to think that this is how her vagabond days end: sitting with a being who was barely a thought in someone’s head little over a year ago, reading a book that was older than them both combined, in a house that’s seen more change in its strange life than she could even imagine. But she starts to read, exactly like that, holding herself against him so he doesn’t feel like he’s flying off the face of the earth -- and so that she could remember what roots feel like after so many dry years.

They were nearing the final third when they last left off. A young boy, suffering in isolation, playing ruthless games set to test his mettle, called to push his friends and himself to their breaking points for what seems to be no reason. He wants nothing more than to break free and he decides he will sacrifice everything to make that happen. He aims his missile at the planet of his enemy, and he fires, hoping the people testing him will find him too crazy to continue.

But then, it turns out, the game is real -- and the young boy has done exactly what everyone wanted. Their enemy is dead. Destroyed in a single, fell swoop.

Connor tenses up around her when she finishes that chapter. “We have to finish it now,” he says.

He has to know…

And so they read, about freedom and what it means, in the house of the Speaker of the Androids. She doesn’t realize she’s whispering until her voice chokes up around the words said by Ender’s sister, the beloved Valentine, as they seek to leave Earth forever.

"Welcome to the human race. Nobody controls his own life, Ender. The best you can do is choose to fill the roles given you by good people -- by people who love you."

#dbh fic #detroit become human #dbh connor #connor rk800 #dbh connor x oc #dbh connor x reader #connor x reader #dbh #the silver lining still remains #emma ibori #long post #forreal

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loriendragonqueen · 8 years ago

Text

“Say My Name” - Part Three

Pairing: Ivar x OC

Words: 4.934 of 9.054

Warnings: explicit; blood; fight; (when I say it is explicit, man, I mean really explicit, like, almost +21!); bad language maybe; death;

Notes: Finally we’ll have some action. This is finally the final part!

Part One Part Two

***

It felt like if years had passed in a single night. I have learnt all I could and more. In the end, I was one with my sword, one with the nature, so I woke up before the dawn.

I ate some fruits brought by the merchants while walking to the highest peak to see the sunrise. I felt different. I could feel everything and everyone; I could hear and taste more than a mortal could; I could see much more than I was able to understand.

"I need to find my sword!" I said to the air, remembering the weight of my blade in my belt.

The wind whistled to me, guiding me to one of the mountains there, the highest one, the one resembling the temple of my training. I run to its peak and there I found, buried deep among heavy stones, a bundle of leather waiting for me. I smiled. It was more than real what I lived.

In the moment I touched the leather, a thunder echoed through the skies as loud as possible, waking those who were sleeping. In the moment my skin felt the cold touch of the blade, another thunder, even louder, shuddered the whole earth beneath my feet.

"Hail Thor, my father!" I yelled wielding my sword to the sky. Then a remaining thunder happened and nothing else was heard.

I walked back to Kattegat with my sword tied in my waist, ready to change my clothes to face my opponent of the day. Everybody was awakening since the first thunder and inside I was laughing, because I was the only one who knew why everything had happened.

After changing my clothes, I walked myself to the training field and waited in silence and in peace, laid on the grass beneath a weeping willow. Not much later, I heard voices coming from the road and I saw the five men walking to my position.

"Ubbe, Hvitserk, Ivar, Sigurd and Bjorn. I greet you all!" I said still laid.

"Good morning, Elea!" Ubbe said in behalf of his brothers.

"Ready to lose, woman?" Ivar asked with a victorious grin.

"So eager. I wonder if you are like this all of the time!" I teased while sitting.

The four men chuckled and I got on my feet.

"Shall we?" and I walked to his habitual spot in the center of the field and waited.

Ivar crawled to his tree trunk and sat on it. The four men watched us closely.

"Have no mercy, please!" I ordered politely.

"I wasn't planning to have it anyway!" and he grabbed his sword.

My hand went to my belt and touched the pommel of my sword. Then, slowly, I embraced my fingers around its shaft, feeling the leather wrapped around the wood and the steel. Finally, I took out my well-known extension, unsheathing my blade.

"Where did you find this sword?" Ubbe asked from my back.

"It is a gift from the gods!" I answered looking at the gold on my sword's shoulder.

"Sure... Now, are we going to talk all day or are we going to fight?" Ivar cut the subject quite impatient.

"You are right. Let us fight, then. You first!" and he swung his sword against me and I deflected.

In fact, I knew what he would do even before himself - a gift given to me by Thrud. I knew that he would attack me with his full strength, eagerly, sloppy in his movements just to hurt me. He would surely hit me on my left side and try to make me give him my back so he could subdue me - and that was exactly what he did.

"So eager..." I said deflecting once again from his sword, hitting his hand to make him drop his weapon.

He had the look of a berserker. He was pure anger, one of the many furies.

Ivar, now with his bare hands, tried to knock me down. I predicted his movement, so I turned my body and he fell under me. My sword found his neck.

"I won!" I said close to his face, pressing him down.

"No!" and he hit me with his head after holding my sword hand, making my nose bleed.

"Yes I won!" and I smiled poking my knife on his belly.

"She won!" Hvitserk said surprised.

I got on my feet after Ivar released my hand.

"How?" Sigurd asked in shock with his eyes wide-open.

"Yes, how?" Bjorn agreed in a suspicious tone.

"You would not believe me if I told you!" I said while walking towards them.

Suddenly, Ivar, a bad loser, grabbed his axe and threw it in my direction. I don't know how, but I managed to deflect the weapon with my sword in the air immediately without looking at it. Everybody looked astonished, including me, with my action.

"Attacking from the back? Really Ivar?" I said staring at him with my eyes narrowed.

"How did you... How did you do that?" he asked me stupefied and open mouthed.

I said nothing. I just walked away. I was really pissed off.

The day was almost ending and I was sat upon a blanket, on my favorite place, cleaning the dry blood on my face and drinking some of the mead I hid in the middle of the oak's roots a few nights ago.

"Leave me alone!" I said to whoever was approaching from my back.

I took a sip from my goatskin. After swallowing the drink, I looked to my right side and saw my opponent sitting beside me.

"Came to try to kill me from the front now?"

He remained silent.

"Lost your tongue, bad loser?" I asked with a scowl.

"I apologize." he said looking away.

"What?" my eyes almost popped out of my head.

"Sometimes I cannot hold my anger. I apologize. You fought well, better than I was expecting!"

"Is this a joke? What are you planning, Ivar?" I could not believe his words, for he was tricksy since I arrived in Kattegat in the boat of his older brother.

"Nothing, I... You know what, forget it!" he said as he was hurt somehow, ready to crawl back to his businesses.

I just handed him my goatskin avoiding him to leave.

"If you are serious, then drink. If you don't, you are lying to yourself!" so he drank.

The sun begun to set on the horizon while we were watching it in silence, drinking together.

"How you did that?" he asked me abruptly, curious.

"How I did what?" I retorted getting on my feet to catch more mead.

"How you gone from a noble, weak and spoiled lady; to a shield maiden so strong and skilful in just one night?"

"You would not believe if I told you!" and I sat beside him again, taking out the cork of the new goatskin and drinking.

"Try me..." and he took the thing off my hand to drink too.

"I went to the mother of the mountains last night in my sleep. Thrud herself trained me for years and years. It may sounds insane, but it was real. This is the proof of what I am saying." and I unsheathed my sword, showing him the engravings on the blade. "I found it this morning when the wind shown me the way. Thor himself slammed his hammer down three times in celebration when I touched it again!"

He was speechless.

"I told you that you would not believe!" and I laughed.

"Who said I do not believe your words? You know nothing, woman!" he frown.

"Elea... My name is Elea, not woman!" I exclaimed a little harsh.

"I know your name, do not treat me as a stupid!"

"Then do not act like one. If you know my name, use it. Why do you always call me woman, or christian or noble or any bullshit like that?"

"Because..." he was saying when I interrupted him.

"Because you are too afraid of talking to me as an equal. Do I scare you that much?" I said pissed off.

"I am scared of nothing!" he protested peeved.

"Then say my name!"

"No!"

"Do not make me oblige you!" and I punched him on his shoulder.

"You couldn't do that even if you tried for the rest of your life!" and he punched me back.

"I remember you said something like that last night. Now look at what I've done!" and I put my blade back to its sheath.

"The gods helped you. It wasn't fair!"

"The valkyries helped me, trained me, not the gods. That is not the case. Just say my name and I will leave you alone!" I ordered a little drunk.

"No!" he said maintaining his face as shallow as possible.

"You asked for it..." and I pushed him to the ground putting myself over him.

"What are you doing?" he asked me a bit nervous. Apparently, he hasn’t been with many women.

"Say my name!" I whispered in his left ear.

"I... I..." he suttered.

"Say my name, Ivar, and I let you go..." and I kissed the beginning of his jaw line, touching his hair.

He gasped.

"Say my name..." and I kissed his left cheek, managing to look at his clear eyes so closely.

He didn't know what to do, so he remained still.

"It is not that hard, Ivar. Say it. My name is not a spell or a curse. And I know you like me. Just say it..." and I kissed him a bit closer to his mouth.

"I don't... Why..." he gasped again.

"You can touch me with your hands if you want to." and I sat on him properly, kissing his lips tenderly.

"Why... Why..." he murmured.

"Say you don't want to and I'll stop." and I licked his lower lip.

"Why are you doing this? It is not only because of your name. Then why?" he asked me with some sort of discomfort.

"I like you. You may not believe that, but I do. You are incredibly annoying and stubborn, and everything. But, since I died, I see you with another eyes. I see through you, who you really are. I know I should fear you, but I don't!" and I waited for his reaction.

He became a mixture of feelings, so, before he could even say a word, I kissed him with desire and with hope that he would not cast me away. He kissed me back a little clumsy, eager as always.

"So eager..." I said between the kiss, putting his hands on me.

I have never had a man in my life, not until that moment. I have never kissed or touched someone the way I was touching him. Nevertheless, it felt like our bodies knew exactly what to do – and how I loved to kiss him like that.

"Say my name, Ivar, please..." I cooed sliding my lips by his jaw until I met his ear.

I felt him shiver under me.

"No..." he said with some difficulty and I realized that he was doing that so I could force him till the end.

"Oh you rascal..." I said chuckling looking into his eyes and seeing some sort of mischief.

I felt his hands on the outside of my thighs going up to my butt and down to my knees multiple times. He was a little more comfortable with the situation and beginning to enjoy every single moment of it.

"Ivar, Ivar, Ivar... What am I going to do with you?" I asked him sitting straight upon his hips and pressing my hands on his belly.

"Everything, I hope!" he said with a bold grin and I saw his eyes shine.

I smiled from ear to ear and bit my lower lip. I was feeling like Idunn herself under his growing lustful gaze.

"Have someone ever told you how beautiful you are, prince?" I asked him while caressing his belly and pushing the hem of his shirt up to his chest.

"Now you flirt with me?" and I felt him strongly grip my butt.

"I am not flirting with you. I am telling the truth. You are a handsome devil, Ivar!" and I scraped my nails on his skin, seeing him smile idly in a beautiful reflex.

"Oh..." he emitted as a shallow breath.

As if I was in the sea behind us, I reached the hem of my own shirt and, moving my hips like the waves, I started to push the clothe up until it passed over my head and landed on the sand. I saw his eyes mesmerized by my own - so pretty.

"Now you, my Baldr!" I said leaning down to undress his upper body.

"And you say you are not flirting me..." he giggled while helping me with his shirt.

"Now I am flirting with you!" I admitted when the piece of clothe was off him.

I saw him barely naked and my heart burned like the sun. Moreover, not only my heart begun to burn - I felt myself warm between my thighs. I felt an urge to kiss every inch of his skin, to bite him and to make him shiver - so I did it.

I kissed his navel and then the muscles of his belly, each one of them. I bit them too, softly, kindly. I kissed the center of his chest just to hear a low grumble resonate inside him. Then I kissed him just upon his heart and I felt him beating fast on my lips. My hands were on his waist whilst I was doing it, sliding my fingers up and down slowly.

"So gentle... Is this the christian way of having sex?" he asked me in a tease.

"No. This is the way of the gods make love. After all, we have all the time of the world just for us now!" I said looking at his eyes that went from eager to some passion with my words.

"How do you know?" he said with a crooked smile resting in the corner of his mouth.

"I was told by the valkjryas. They taught me everything, how to make love and make a man fall into his knees in extreme passion. Just a few men are lucky enough to taste it in life!" and I kissed his neck, breathing the natural perfume of his skin - so musky and yet so sweet, so earthy.

I felt his voice disappear when he finally felt my breasts touch his skin. I knew that they were not big, but I did not know that the mere touch of them would silence a man. I felt his hands finally wander through my back, caressing my skin so patiently.

"It is okay to you if we do it my way?" I taunted him close to his right ear.

He nodded.

"Very well, then!" and I stood up to take my pants off.

He could not believe in what was happening. At least it was what I saw from where I was.

Now fully naked, I sat on his lap and pulled him to also be sit. My lips found his again and I kissed him deeply, feeling his tongue swirl and dance with mine, almost astounding me. One of my hands then found the laces of his pant and my fingers begun to work to unlace them.

"My boots..." he said between the kiss.

"I got it!" I said moving away a little just to turn in my own axis and give him my back, sitting in the same place.

I felt his kisses on my nape when he put my hair over my shoulders and then I felt his tongue slid on the top of my spine, giving me chills. It was almost impossible to focus on my simple task to take off his boots and braces, but I did it.

When I set him free from almost everything, I felt his hands on my breasts, squeezing them so eagerly and passionate. I felt the touch of his bare chest against my back and that alone was heavenly. His warmth... His tight grip around me... His lips kissing my neck...

"Are you trying to conquer me this way, Ivar?" I asked breathing heavily, touching his hair, tangling my fingers on his braids.

"Maybe..." he said against my skin, giving me chills.

"So you will allow me give you love and to care you?" I asked turning my head to look at him.

I saw him smile a little sheepishly and that was enough to make me swirl my body and mount on him again, kissing him as deeply as I could. My heart burst on fire. I have never felt something like that before. I felt I could meld with him like fire and wood - so profoundly, so dangerously.

"That means that you are mine now?" he asked a little panting, almost drunk in my essence.

"I guess so..." and I smiled widely, closing my eyes and kissing him famishing again.

Once we started to lose on each other’s mouth more wildly, my hands went down his pants to take them off and finally feel him between my thighs now soaking wet.

I got on my knees to take away the clothe beneath me and, whilst I was doing it, he took one of my breasts in his mouth and started to suck it and bite it, making me gasp and arch my back. His right hand then touched my thunder tattoo on my left side, sliding his fingers by every ramification of it along my body. How I urged for him!

His pants finally touched the sandy ground and I was about to sit on him, to feel his skin and need in mine. However, before I could do it, he grabbed my hips and pushed me up, kissing me all the way down.

"What are you intending to do with me, man?" I queried feeling his kisses on my navel with a few nibbles.

He did not answer me and I felt his wet and warm tongue touch me between my folds. I held my breath.

"Ivar..." I said surprised exhaling what was in my lungs.

I have never felt something like that, nor I ever dreamt to feel. His mouth snatched my womanhood and his tongue begun to explore me a little clumsy - it was his first time. But he was doing so well, so devoted, that when he touched my sensitive lump I almost fell from my legs.

"Do it again!" I ordered breathless while looking down and seeing his eyes smiling to me with boldness – and he did, licking and sucking that lovely spot, driving me mad.

Moans came out from my mouth so easily when he found some rhythm and soon I faced the edge of my explosion, coming so violently and crying so loud that I lost the control of my legs and almost fell, being held only by the strength of his arms.

"Oh my Baldr, my lovely young god!" I muttered with a full smile, sitting on him again and looking in the depths of his proud eyes, feeling the touch of his soft skin beneath my throbbing sex. He shuddered.

"What? You thought that I did not know a few things?" he teased me with an impish grin.

"I would never fathom you so skilled in something so delicate. That's why you are worthy of me!" I said a bit cocky before kissing him again with lust.

"Oh you smug woman..." he muttered against my lips, scraping his rough hands on my back, pressing my flesh hungrily.

My right hand then slid by his chest while scraping my nails on his skin all the way down, ready to touch his growing shaft. He sucked the air when I wrapped his girth with my fingers. I bet he never felt other hand around his member beyond his own. And I loved to see him at mercy of my actions.

My hand begun to firmly stroke him up and down, feeling him growing at each movement. With my other hand I held him close to my face by the nape, touching our cheeks. To hear him moaning in low tone and heavy breathing at my left ear was the paradise. His hands then found my butt just to grab each of my cheeks strongly, squeezing my flesh enough to let them marked.

While I was working devoted on his throbbing piece of pleasure, I felt his fingers play with my entrance while his hands were spreading the cheeks of my butt. I moaned and he smiled. Suddenly one of his fingers went inside me and I bit my lower lip. It wasn't painful but I bounced with the intruding touch. He chuckled and, as a response, I tightened my grip around him. However, he continued his adventure on exploring my depths with his digits and I felt a second intruder stretching my entrance once as tight as possible.

"So tight and warm, so wet..." he whispered biting my left cheek.

"All for you, my love!" I said with rasping voice and his fingers begun to movement in and out me.

His breath then became shallow and fast, and I knew that he was ready for me. I kissed him. Apparently, I could not stay away from his lips and he could not stay away from mine. I stopped my movements and he stopped his. He knew exactly what I wanted and I got up a little, just enough to feel his dick touching where his fingers were moments before. I looked at him and I saw his eyes begging for me as much as his body. He adjusted himself and held his member so I could finally embrace it with my cunt. At the first touch, my body shuddered as much as his did. Slowly, I let my weight do the job and force the connection. It did not really worked, so, eagerly, he started to push me down and only by it he finally broke the rest of my barriers.

"Ivar..." I sighed feeling the pinching feel and he moaned.

We waited a little until our bodies adjust to each other. It was an odd feeling of pleasure to have him only for me. I kissed him tenderly, leaning my body to lay him down above the blanket once more.

Slowly, I started to move myself lightly up and down, pressing my palms to his chest to gain confidence for something stronger and faster. He groaned and rolled his eyes, opening his mouth in a reflex. Then I reached his hands and intertwined our fingers, holding them up his head, leaning forward to give him little kisses while increasing the speed and depth.

If someone could see us like that, it would say that we were a couple of lovers so besotted and devoted to one another, like two young gods inflamed by lust and passion.

"Do you want to change power with me?" I asked him close to his mouth, feeling his hips striking forcefully against mine. He nodded and rolled me to the side, settling himself on top of me and grabbing instantly my left thigh, making a fluid move to keep the pace. He groaned deeply when he hit my very end, making me moan as well.

"Oh, Elea..." he finally said thrusting increasingly faster and I smiled clawing his back and shoulders, pulling him even close to my sweaty body.

I thought he was about to reach his peak after that, but, for my surprise, he was just beginning. Somehow, his sensations were different and he could do that longer than the other men could. I did not complained.

"Stronger!" I said to him and he obeyed at the very moment, also increasing the speed. "Oh, Ivar..." I moaned his name and he smiled widely with drops of sweat dripping from his forehead.

I fell from myself again, crying out his name and then biting his shoulder, strong enough to make him bleed. After that, he went wild, what made me cum again almost at the same time as him, who cried out my name in such a beautiful way that I held him inside me, hugging him until I could not feel him pulsing any longer.

"It wasn't that hard to say my name, after all, don't you think?" I chuckled, panting and feeling his heart beating as fast as mine.

"Elea, Elea, Elea... What have you done with me?" he said as breathless as I, resting upon me, inside me, kissing my neck and still traveling his right hand by my skin.

"What have you done with me is what I should ask. My legs are numb if you want to know!" and I giggled running my fingers through his messy hair.

"Really?" he asked in an awe tone while looking into my eyes.

"Well, as you may have noted, I was a virgin until moments ago. And, well, you are not small at all, not that I have saw a dick before today, but you are bigger than I expected. And what you did with it was just amazing!" I answered probably inflating even more his giant ego.

He smiled proudly, moving himself inside me as if he was already ready for one more time.

"Ivar, Ivar, Ivar... I tell you my legs are numb and you try to fuck me again? What are you, after all?" I joked, laughing and touching his hands now at the sides of my head.

"I am still burning for you. Why not enjoy it while we are here almost in the dark and still alone?" and he bit my lower lip with a mischievous grin.

"Then let me set a fire, for it is almost night complete!" I said biting one of his wrists closer to my head. He growled.

"No, let me do it. You can't walk by now, right? I don't want to see you falling because of me!" he said quite vainglorious, full of himself.

"You never get tired of being that smug?" and I laughed feeling him sliding out of me, leaving me empty.

"You say it, but you are probably worse than me!" he retorted crawling to set fire in the pile of wood I had settled before he find me.

He lit it and soon the light embraced us properly. It was when I saw his magnificent member glowing with the light thanks to our orgasms and the trails of my blood. It was still upright and hard.

I smiled while sitting to wait him to come back to me. And he came, each muscle also glowing with the light, sweaty and ready for more.

"Look at you, young god, my Baldr!" I said when he reached me, pulling him to a passionate and lustful kiss.

"I bet your legs are beginning to come back to normal..." he said touching tenderly my face.

"Yes, but I want to be slow now. Come, let's do it like the old way!" I said lying down and beckoning him to do the same.

And he laid beside me and I turned my back to him, grabbing his dick to guide him back to inside me. Then we went slowly, he moving inside and out while holding my head in the gap of his neck and, with the other hand, holding my belly. For that time, we enjoyed even more our bodies and feelings, sensing everything before the whole world collapsed around us and get rebuilt again. He held me by the neck a few times and I loved the sensation of being a sort of prey to his predatorily urge demanding.

"If we fight again tomorrow, can we do it again?" he asked me like an innocent boy.

"If I can fight tomorrow after what you are doing to me, we can do it all night long, wherever you want!" I answered holding into his arm and turning my head to kiss him while his pace got a little faster.

His eyes grew in excitement.

"But tomorrow I will not lose to you again. If I lose there, you will have to pay me later, don't you think?!" he said by my ear, finding his boldness and using it.

"If you win tomorrow, we will fuck wherever you want and the way you choose!" I said with a smile.

"Is that a bet?" and he bit my nape.

"Actually, it is more like an idea..." and I moved my hips in circles against him.

"And you was raised as a christian girl?" he mocked pressing my butt even harder to the encounter of his thrust.

I moaned open mouthed, arching my back and still moving my butt in circles.

"Are... Are you complaining?" I asked gasping.

"Of course not!" he chuckled increasing his speed again and we both shut our mouths, diving in a glorious lack of words, making only sounds.

We did that until the moon rise in the sky and illuminate us. After a long time, we came almost together, remaining in the arms of one another almost endlessly.

Ivar held my hair as a ponytail, pulling it to make me give him my neck, so he could bite me and kiss me there, marking me as his property. I marked him as well when he kissed my lips and I bit his lower lip strong enough to cut it.

"We are even!" I said and he laughed.

***

That’s it, I hope you enjoyed! ♥

#ivar the boneless #ivar's heathen army #ivar ragnarsson #ivar imagine #part 3 #vikings #fanfic #ivar x oc #final

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