#shed bark to get let into my room and then a few minutes later shed bark to get let back out

[extervus]

I'm so fucking tired what the fuuuucck

[errorryx]

unraveling — part three, season ten

read on ao3 | read part one | hermitcraft, 2.9k words

this is the third and final part of my fic for MCYTblr AUFest! once again, if you haven't read the first part, please check it out for more info about this AU. enjoy this infodump about plant-based fibers disguised as a minecraft fanfiction!

—

Ever since Pearl began expanding her original starter base, she’s been working on some kind of big secret project.

It probably has something to do with her choice of theme this season. Or maybe it's an even bigger, more spectacular redstone machine than the already very impressive Dyeduction. Whatever it is, Pearl’s determined to keep it a secret, which means Gem is even more determined to figure it out.

She watches Pearl from a distance, using her spyglass. Pearl’s base is developing into a labyrinth of different structures, with so many entrances and passageways wedged into tight corners, each building blending together into a larger whole. It’s getting big enough that Gem can get lost in it. She gets turned around even from afar, watching Pearl enter a building and emerge somewhere completely different a few minutes later.

This morning, Pearl seems to be harvesting some of the many different plants around her base. She clips back the fast-growing vines that crawl up the sides of her buildings, wades through dense fields of flowers to uproot entire plants, and even collects bark from the bushes and trees. Gem can’t imagine what she’s doing with it all, and she’s even more confused to see Pearl deposit her harvest into a large pool and leave it there.

After a while, Pearl spreads her elytra and rockets off in the direction of the shopping district. Gem takes the opportunity to poke around her base and investigate directly. She stops at the pool first, which has a small channel out to the river, not quite wide enough for a boat to pass through.

When Gem steps into the pool, the water only comes up to her knees. The bottom is full of different stems and leaves, weighed down by rocks to keep it from floating up to the top. Nearby is a small hut filled with shelves and shelves of the same plants in various stages of drying.

Gem has been toying with the idea of a proper scientific investigation for a while now, and clearly Pearl is the perfect subject. She takes a recording device out of her pocket and begins to describe her surroundings.

“This is Dr. GeminiTay in the field, reporting on my observations at PearlescentMoon’s base. Recently, I've observed several anomalies in Pearl’s behavior, and I came to the conclusion that I must analyze her natural habitat for hints as to what may be causing this…deviation.” Gem nods, proud of herself. She sounds so professional! “It appears that Pearl has been soaking plants in water, then letting them dry. The purpose of this behavior is as of yet unknown.”

Nearby the pool and the shed full of drying plants is a building that Gem knows has been here for a while, but she doesn’t think she’s ever been inside. The top floor is full of more plants in the next stage of the process, whatever process that is. One one side is a pile of fully dried plant material, and on the other side is a heaping pile of fibers and several chests stuffed to the brim with very tiny wood shavings.

Gem relays this information as best she can into the recording device, then takes a staircase down to the basement, which is much larger than the room above. The center of the room is taken up by several large spinning wheels, each hooked up to a redstone device that Gem doesn’t even bother to try and make sense of. Presumably they help automate the process, though they all seem to be shut off right now. Gem is tempted to flick one of the levers to see what happens, but she’s not Grian. She has more self-control than that.

Though, it would be really funny if she broke something.

Gem peeks outside to make sure Pearl isn’t back yet, before running back to switch the lever on, giggling to herself. The wheel starts spinning, but since there’s no fibers or threads on the spool, nothing else interesting happens. She’s disappointed, but also relieved that she didn’t break anything. She flicks the lever back off and moves on.

Pearl has hung several picture frames around the room, but instead of artwork, the frames contain embroidery projects. The largest of them reads live laugh love in familiar cursive lettering, surrounded by a border of leafy vines. Most of the others are textless, with designs of different plants and flowers.

A large table on the left side of the room is covered in dozens of small scraps of handmade fabric. Some are of higher quality than others. None of them look like the sort of crochet pattern that Gem’s used to seeing on Pearl’s body. Pearl must be trying to branch out with her projects, and these are some of her first attempts. There’s another embroidery project hanging right above the table, the only other one with any text, which reads, Start small.

Beside the table is an ordinary loom, and next to it, a larger, more intricate version constructed out of several different types of wood. Normal looms are only used for banners, but Pearl’s handmade loom seems to be built for broader purposes. On the other side of the loom, in the back corner of the room, is an iron door without any visible way to open it.

At this point, Gem can safely assume that she's found the room where Pearl keeps her mystery project. Clearly it's some kind of fiber art—or several different kinds at once, from the look of it. But all the things she's seen so far are just pieces of the puzzle, and she still can’t figure out what Pearl’s making.

Her only remaining option is to see what’s behind the locked door.

Now, Gem could easily go home and construct her own lever to open the door, or just break through the wall herself, but that’s no fun. She’d much rather figure out how to use this secret door the right way. Knowing Pearl, it’s not a special kind of lock that only she has the key to, but some kind of thematically relevant puzzle that anyone can figure out if they try.

So Gem tries. For a good long time, she looks around the room for hints. She stops in front of the table of scraps, looking at the embroidered message. Start small. It doesn’t quite fit with Pearl’s sense of interior decoration. The live laugh love one is clearly a joke, a reference to last season, but there’s nothing about Start small that holds any sort of meaning to Gem.

Unless it’s meant as a clue.

In a moment of inspiration, Gem stands on her tiptoes, reaching over the table to take the frame down from the wall. She looks over to the door, but it hasn’t moved. When she flips the frame around, she can see the messy backside of the stitching, plus a hand-written note from Pearl, reading, smaller than that.

Definitely a clue, then. Gem switches on her recording device and begins to narrate. 

“The wild Pearl is known for her cleverness,” she tells her imaginary peer-review science board. “One of the defining behaviors of a Pearl is to set up puzzles for her friends. It’s important to provide her with enrichment by participating, which is why I’m doing this, of course. Not because I’m nosy.”

She paces up and down the room, the reassuring rhythm of her footsteps against the floor helping to clear her mind. That is, until she steps down on a block that makes a strange metallic clanking sound.

Gem may not know much about redstone, but she knows a hidden hopper when she hears one. The spot where she’s standing is just a few blocks away from the door. All she has to do now is figure out what to throw into it.

“Pearls are practical creatures,” Gem says. “This Pearl would not choose something rare or difficult to access as the key to a door she uses all the time. It’ll probably be something inside this room.”

Start small. Smaller than that. The answer’s sitting right in front of her. Pearl doesn’t start a crochet project by jumping into it blindly and hoping for the best. She plans it out beforehand, making patterns and testing out stitches. All of the different test swatches on this table are her way of starting small, practicing for the big project she’s making.

Gem grabs one of the scraps of fabric, dropping it on the floor above the hopper. The door opens with a loud clank, and she enters the room, holding her breath in anticipation.

She’s not expecting Pearl to actually be inside. She knows for a fact that she saw Pearl fly off, though admittedly there was plenty of time for Pearl to sneak back into this room while Gem was wandering around her base. But the surprise of Pearl’s presence pales in comparison to the shock of what she’s making.

Pearl is hunched over a player-sized figure made up of many different kinds of fabric, lying on top of a large worktable. Only one of its arms are attached, the other sitting right beside the empty shoulder, and both legs end just below the knee, still unfinished. Most of the fabrics look coarser than the soft wool yarn that Gem is used to, but there’s no mistaking who it’s supposed to be.

“Oh. My. Gosh.” Gem blinks several times, unable to believe what she’s seeing. “Pearl, are you multiplying?”

Pearl laughs, sitting back and looking up at her. “Do you like it?”

Gem takes a few steps closer, taking it all in. The new Pearl’s plastic button eyes have been replaced with wooden ones, and her hair is a mixture of several different textures and shades of brown. She’s wearing a white postal jacket like the one Pearl’s wearing now, but this one is made out of a more refined version of some of the swatches in the previous room.

When Gem commissions new outfits to fit her themes, she doesn’t spend much time thinking about the work that goes into it behind the scenes. She just pays their exorbitant prices and assumes they must have worked very hard. Now, having seen all the steps in Pearl’s process, she’s baffled as to how her clothesmakers are able to deliver their finished products so quickly, or how Pearl herself has gotten so much done without anyone noticing.

“It’s beautiful, Pearl. It’s so detailed.” Gem can’t think of anything to say that doesn’t feel like an understatement. “Have you been working on this all season?”

“Only since I decided on my solarpunk theme,” Pearl says. “It shouldn’t take me much longer. I’ve processed most of the fibers that I need already, and that’s the slowest part.”

“I have so many questions,” Gem says. It’s a little disconcerting to see this new version of Pearl in an unfinished state, looking so much like Pearl does now, but lifeless and incomplete.

“I can explain it to you if you want!” Pearl looks excited at the prospect. “There’s a lot of steps, but if you break it down it’s actually pretty simple—”

“Have you been hanging out with Mumbo recently?” Gem asks. “None of what you’re doing is simple, Pearl. This is very complicated!”

“Already had a peek around my base, did you?” Pearl tuts in mock disappointment.

“It’s only fair! You don’t get to complain after what you did to my base with all those pickle messages.”

“Ah, well.” Pearl shrugs. “You may have a point.”

“What is it for, anyway?” Gem can’t help but notice that Pearl isn’t making these modifications to herself, but to an entirely different entity. “Why do you need another you?”

“Gem!” Pearl laughs at her. “You got all the way to this point and you still haven’t figured it out?”

“What do you—Oh. Wait.” Gem blinks. “Are you—you’re building yourself a replacement body?”

“There you go,” Pearl says. “We got there eventually.”

“But that doesn’t make any sense!” Gem says. “How do you get yourself into a whole different body? Can you turn back after you’re done? If you can just go around switching bodies, what’s stopping you from being a—a pig, or a sheep or something?”

“Oh, that’s easy,” Pearl says, waving her hand dismissively. “I just, y’know…” She pauses, frowning. “Well, I—hm, okay. I’m not sure, actually.”

“You’re not sure?”

“I don’t know how it works,” Pearl says. “It just sort of happens. Like how everyone gets new outfits to stick through respawn.”

“That’s normal, though. Everyone does it!”

“Yeah, but how?”

Gem opens her mouth, then closes it again. She doesn’t know. How does she not know?

She feels a little dizzy from how fast her thoughts are racing. Gem pulls up a chair and plops herself down, trying to get her thoughts in order.

In this world, and in every world since she spawned, there have been rules. They vary from place to place, and they can be changed, too—even bent or broken. Gem knows people who break the rules—some of the most infamous rulebreakers in the world reside on this very server with her—but she’s never counted Pearl among that number.

And, now that she thinks about it, that seems like an oversight on her part. Gem has known Pearl for longer than most of the other Hermits, and she can’t remember ever questioning how Pearl came to exist in this form, this version of herself that Gem’s always known.

Gem has never broken the rules, or at least, she’s never knowingly attempted to do so. She’s happy where she is, building and mining and fighting the normal way, seeking out challenges from within the confines of what’s supposed to be possible. She’s amazed by the accomplishments of her reality-bending friends, but that sort of thing has never interested her.

Now, standing on the edge of what seems to be a rule-breaking realization, Gem wonders if this is how they felt—Etho, or Cleo, or Doc, or Pearl, apparently—any of the Hermits that ever asked the right questions, or put the pieces together, or stumbled upon a loophole in the rulebook.

She clings to the fabric of her lab coat in wonder. What kind of force tethers this silly costume she’s wearing to her own body? Why does it stay with her even after death? How does any of this make sense?

Is everything just a—

“See, you can't question these things,” Pearl says, bursting through her train of thought. “Or it all falls apart.”

“Falls apart?” Gem asks, alarmed. “What does that mean? That sounds bad. Is it bad? Have I broken the world?”

“No! No, of course not, don’t worry.” Pearl rests a soft hand on Gem’s shoulder. “Well, maybe a little bit, but it’s fine. Nothing that can’t be fixed.”

Gem puts her head in her hands, taking a deep breath. It helps, a little. “This is—a lot, Pearl.”

“Here, let me show you something.” Pearl holds up a swatch of fabric, which Gem is reasonably confident in identifying as crochet, though she doesn’t know the specific stitch. “It’s like this. The fabric holds itself together just fine if you leave it alone, but when you pull on the edges…” She does just that, and the first row collapses on itself, then the next, then the next. “Things start to go a bit wonky. But…” She pulls out a crochet hook and starts stitching, rebuilding the row she’d just unraveled. “You can make them right again, if you learn how. It can go back to normal. Or, well, normal enough.”

“But what about people who don’t want it to be normal?” Gem asks. “How do they deal with it?”

“You’ll have to ask them about it,” Pearl says. “That’s not how I do things. I prefer to patch the holes I find rather than explore what’s inside them.”

Gem leans her head against Pearl’s shoulder. “This really hurts my brain.”

“I know. I’m sorry, Gem. I didn’t mean to push you into this.”

“It’s okay,” Gem says. “The fact that I made it through two and a half seasons of Hermitcraft before getting here is probably pretty impressive, right?”

“It’s not for everybody,” Pearl says. “Like Grian, for example.”

“Grian?”

“He noped out of it even harder than I did, you know. Did it so well that I’m not sure he even remembers anymore. I don’t want to bring it up with him, because if he did forget, I think he meant for it to be that way.”

“Huh. I had no idea.” Gem lets out a heavy sigh. “I don’t know if I want to go his route or not. Or your route, or some other route. I feel like I know way less about the world than I did this morning.”

“You should probably talk to someone other than me about it,” Pearl suggests. “It’s different for everyone. But whatever you do, it should be your own way, not someone else’s.”

“My own way.” Gem smiles. “I like the sound of that, whatever it is.”

“Don’t stress yourself out over it,” Pearl warns her. “I know the way you are. Take your time, Gem. You have basically forever to figure it out.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll try.” Gem wraps her arms around Pearl. “Thank you, Pearl.”

“For what?”

“For explaining stuff,” Gem says. “For being my friend. For being so cuddly, too. You are so soft.”

“Aw, you’re welcome.” Pearl hugs her back. “Would you be mad if I got less soft, though?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Gem says. “I love every version of you.”

Pearl laughs softly. “I love every version of you too.”

—

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<Previous part

[topperscumslut]

so my dog decided to be a little shit and scare the fuck out of me today before work

so i woke up right as my dad was leaving for work this morning and just chilled for a few hours before going to grab lunch and then go to my afternoon shift today right

so like 15 minutes before i leave i let my dogs out since my dad won’t be home for another few hours. both of my dogs (a boy and a girl) are both really old, but when they were a lot younger when i was a little kid the girl (who’s a beagle/terrier mix as opposed to the boy’s full bred beagle) would always get really excited, especially if she saw something like people or a cat, and would jump over the fence and my parents and i would have to frantically run around the neighborhood before finally finding her in a neighbor’s yard, so we usually always put her on a tie out leash when we let her outside to go potty. there are sometimes where my dad will let her out without out if he knows he can stand there and watch her the whole time since we know she likes to be able to run around like our other dog does and gets sad when he can run around and she can’t, but we usually leave them out for a while so they have enough time to do their business and get their energy out so my dad usually doesn’t watch her the whole time and just puts her on her tie out.

however, if im only taking my eyes off of them for a short amount of time i often just let her go free (well, within the confines of the fence, that is), especially if im in a rush before work and don’t have the extra time to put her on the leash and get her off, especially if she ends up getting her leash tangled up like the dumbass she is (i love her tho). i still try to be careful with it *just in case* and don’t leave her alone in the yard unchained for more than a few minutes at a time, but she’s gotten really old and can’t move as well as she used to (although still pretty good for her age) and hasn’t tried to jump the fence in YEARS, and even if she did i would probably hear her barking as a warning, cuz she only did it if something outside of the fence caught her attention

anyway i put the dogs out and run back upstairs to grab the rest of my stuff to leave for work, put my shoes on, and go to check on them literally five fucking minutes later. i look for them and the other one is already ready to come in so i let him in, but i can’t see this dumb little fucking bitch fucking anywhere. so then i started second guessing myself and go oh shit, did i even put her out in the first place, or did i trick myself into thinking i already had cuz i was planning to? cuz the boy dog usually runs straight to me when i try to put him out but the girl is much more reluctant to go both in and out, so im like maybe she wouldn’t come out yet so i went to grab my shit for work and was just going to put her out after right. so now im frantically calling for her both inside and outside and she’s still not fucking coming.

usually i wouldn’t think much of it cuz a lot of times i can call and call for her while she’s outside and her bitch ass will stare me dead in the eye and refuse to come in while her brother runs right up to me, but i could not see this motherfucker at all. so i barely step outside, still nothing, and then come back inside and search every fucking room of the house for her, NOTHING. so at this point i start to panic and go back outside all the way into the yard.

so im freaking out and by the time i get to nearly the back of the yard this fear gets much much worse as im continuing to call her for and she’s still not coming to me. that is, until i get to the very back, to the shed where there’s a little platform in front of the shed door that’s view is entirely covered by bushes, a platform that in 12 years I’ve almost never seen her lay on since she loves laying in the grass so much, and lo and behold there is fucking Daisy, smiling motherfuckerly at me like the sadistic little fuck that she is.

[heresathreebee]

The One Where She Got A Dog

Yelena Belova X Reader

Summary: how Yelena became a dog mom Masterlist Part 2

Tags: E | 1.8k words | scary movie, winter, secret pasts, sapphic

AN: Black Widow movie really got me in my feelings about those characters, Yelena in particular. I havent watched The Thing in almost a year please look the other way if movie events are out of order.

Pretty Russian girls are not usually your type, but fuck if you weren't absolutely obsessed with this one. You laughed when she told you she was from Ohio.  She laughed when you said you were too. 

Aquavit and your grandma's biscuit recipe brought her into your cabin on the edge of the world where she admitted to you she had never seen John Carpenter's The Thing before. You turned it on just as the snow storm set in and wrapped up in your thickest blankets with her. You're trying not to get your hopes too high but she's not shy about asking you to scoot closer. 

"Skäl," you cheer just as the ominous opening credits end and they find the mysterious ship in the frozen wasteland of antarctica. 

"Have you ever been?," Yelena asked. 

You grimace at the strong taste of aquavit. It's like vodka but with caraway for 'flavor'. You look at her from the side and poor yourself a second shot. "Been…?" 

"There." She points at the screen. 

"I have actually," you admit in a way you hope is flat and uninteresting, "have you?" 

Yelena shook her head. It's possible she might think you're being sarcastic (you cross your fingers under the blanket and hope she does). She's smiling at you, thinking something (but still watching the screen with interest). 

She drops the subject until you have to pause the movie to pee. You unwrap yourself from the cocoon of blankets and as you stand she asks you another question. 

"What were you doing there? in Antarctica, I mean." 

You sigh and pretend to brush something off of your pants. "Science trip with my parents. Shitty vacation for me I'd rather be in the Bahamas." 

You resist the urge to look at her. After taking care of business, you come back just in time to put the biscuits in the oven. You hear Yelena lean into the kitchen archway as the floors creak immensely here. 

"No timer?," she asked. 

"No timer," you confirm. "I use the timer of my heart." 

Yelena scoffs. "Please don't burn them, I'm curious about these… what are they– pastries?" 

"Something like that." 

The two of you went back to the movie just as the gang on screen is trying to decipher who is human and who is not. You feel like something between you has changed and sadly not for the better. 

But she can't know. 

"I hate this part," you say, making absolutely no move to avert your gaze. 

Yelena is startled when the doctor's arms become trapped in the bear trap belly mouth of the "man" on the table. She quickly covers her eyes and giggles manically, slapping your chest for the vague and unhelpful warning. You realize she's not as close to you as before…

There's 20 minutes left of this movie and you haven't seen a single thing on screen. Yelena stopped asking you questions when you stopped being coherent with your answers. All you can think about is telling her. 

But you can't tell her. She would never understand. You barely understand and it's about you. 

"I lied." Your heart beats in your throat as you see her face you but you can't look at her directly for fear of losing your nerve. "About the science expedition? That's not why I was in Antarctica…" 

Yelena seems to wait for you to continue but… 

"Eh, no offense but, " you gesture with your hand, "I don't really know you like that." 

Yelena gave your reply a single nod. "I suppose that's fair." 

You can't help but fidget in your seat. "Idliketo" 

"What was that?" 

You cleared your throat. "I said… I said I'd like to. Know you like that, I mean…" 

Yelena gives you a smile. "I would like to know you like that, too." 

The movie ends, the biscuits are not burnt but buttery soft and golden brown, and the blizzard outside has subsided some. It's still going but at least it's not buffering the doors and windows like before. 

"How can you watch that film in a place like this?" Yelena cannot get enough of those biscuits, stuffing them in her mouth 2 at a time. "Does it make you paranoid?" 

"Yes it does," you say, putting your coat on, "I think that's what makes it so much scarier–  looking outside and being scared every person you come across ain't who they say they are. Sometimes its not a bad thing though... I think it is rather… poetic, too." 

Yelena's eyebrows furrow. "Where are you going?" 

You put on your boots and hope the duct tape stays on the hole you covered earlier. "Dogs are out in the shed. It's heated and they have food, but not for days and I'd rather have 'em in the house where I can take care of them." 

As you finished your sentence you reached for the door,  but stopped when you noticed Yelena getting dressed too. She gives you a nod as soon as her hood comes up, and you give this brave thing an appreciative once over. 

The snow that nearly all melted before is up to your knees now. Fresh, white, and fluffy. It muffles sound like the world's sidelong turning. The odd snowflake wafts lazily from the sky, but for the most part it's died down. You teach back and take Yelena's gloved hand to keep from staying too far apart. 

"You know I always wanted a dog," she said. She could have said it in a whisper from 100 yards away and you still would have heard her–  that is how eerily quiet it is. 

Yelena squeezes your hand and you squeeze back. She's probably remembering the movie. You try to distract her by saying, "Oh yeah? You can have one of mine then." 

Yelena laughs, then stops. "You serious?" 

"As a heart attack." You finally reach the door to the shed and unlatch the door. A chorus of barks begin and you charge forward to nudge them back to give Yelena space to come in as well. "I do some breeding up here–  just a side job. They're usually working dogs but they can be pets too." 

Buck licks your face from chin to forehead and you push him back. "Down, boy! Show some respect!" 

Yelena has two of the mongrels circling her, sniffing all her clothes and demanding to be pet. "That's Burt, Barney, and Bella. Buck's my stud, but these heathens are going to a farm. They've got sheep to watch." 

Yelena chuckles as her hands get covered in slobber. "I love them." 

They're almost grown, three quarters the height of their father. Buck didn't even look in Yelena's direction because he knows you give him treats. You take your scarf off as the heat of the shed threatens to smother you and search your pockets for jerky.  

"She's in there with the new puppies." You point to a darkened closet. "Don't get too close now, she's still a little protective." 

Yelena creeps closer. You see her look at you from the corner of her eye. Probably terrified by the morphing dog scene from the movie. You give her an encouraging smile and tell her where to find the light. It's a pull cord and it bathes the room in a warm golden yellow light. 

Yelena's heavy, controlled breathing turns into a coo. Mama dog is laying on her side watching the newcomer closely. There's a pup asleep in the nest of her legs, another chewing on the hay that litters the ground, and the last one is biting their mother's ear. Yelena looks back at you with an adorable pout on her lip. 

"So cute…" 

You chuckle and put your arm around her. Buck knows to steer clear of mama dog and slinks off. You make your guest walk closer with you to show mama she's got your confidence. 

"Yelena, this is Beyonce." Mama dog's ears perk at the sound of her name. "Beyonce, this is Yelena. Be nice." 

You reach down and scoop up the hay eating puppy at your feet. "This one's always hungry." 

You put the pup in her arms and scoop up the biter. "This one likes to play. All the time. Got more energy than the blue Energizer bunny actually." 

The pup in question is literally trying to wriggle out of your hands in its eagerness to climb you and eat your hair. 

"And that one sleeps a lot?" Yelena nodded her head at the last pup. 

"Pretty much." You put the writhing excited puppy down before it hurts itself and look up into the rafters. "And then there's the climber…" 

You both turn your heads when you hear a tiny bark. A cute little face stares down at you from the rafters and there's a feather stuck to its nose. You shake your head knowing this pup got it from ripping up pillows in another part of the dog house. 

"Better go get her," you said, not moving an inch to do so.  

Yelena sees your challenge and rises to it. As if trained to do exactly so, she assesses the wooden interior for foot and hand holds. You can see the wheels turning in her head as she calculates what will and won't support her weight. In the sweep of a single moment, she rises from the door and swings herself into the rafters using a build up a momentum to propel her fast in an upperward direction. She completes the climb and balances with ease, reaching out to collect the happy wagging miscreant from her mountain top, tucks her in her jacket and climbs a different way down. 

You stare at her. "Were you raised by trapeze artists?" 

Yelena laughs. "I thought everybody was." 

The pup is safe and happy and eager to explore its new friend. Yelena lets her lick, sniff, and scratch at her skin, her clothes, her hair. The pup catches Yelena with a tiny lick right on the tip of her nose and Yelena looks back at you with adoring eyes. 

You smile. "Got a name for her already don't you?" 

"Yes," Yelena whines, "no, are you sure about this? I should probably tell you I've never had a dog before…" 

"I can tell your good people," you reply. "And smart as a whip. You'll adapt, just call me if you ever need anything." 

~

Three weeks later you get a phone call from an unknown number. It's Yelena giving you an address and making you swear never to tell anybody about it. You don't have any friends so it's an easy secret to keep. 

You drive a few miles south and stumble upon a stationary trailer in the middle of nowhere, nothing but clearings and trees and sky. Actually very similar to your own home. 

The door opens and Yelena greets you with a beer and the pup under her arm, already almost a foot bigger than she was before. 

"Her name is Fanny." You both laugh yourselves hoarse and pile into the trailer to puppy proof the place. 

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

Let Chaos Reign

Chapter 4- People Of Earth

Summary: On the run from the Avengers in your search for a way off Earth, you meet some mortal annoyances along the way until a certain blue eyed human is able to find you wandering in the forest. But can he convince you to come back to the Avenger’s base with him?

Warning: action, blood, fighting, Bucky doing his best, slight fluff

Masterlist - Chapter 3

So Bucky had been thinking.

If finding Y/N was only as easy as looking at her red dot on the tracker, then damn, he could just teleport to her no problem. Unfortunately the worlds technology hasn't yet reached Star Trek technological advancements, nor can he teleport. It's been a long hectic couple days trying to find her which is starting to drive Bucky up a wall, how is she so sneaky? He can literally see her location at all times but yet she's evaded him at all costs without even trying, she doesn't even know a tracker is attached to the inside of her jacket.

And the team, they haven't been much help at all. They've decided to listen to Fury's orders and stay clear of Bucky's mission when it comes to finding the escaped demigod and bringing her back to the Avenger's base. A lot of help they are. At least Steve checks in for updates when he's not getting pulled into a training session by any particular person of the hour. Maybe the tracker doesn't even work. Maybe?

No, it's Stark made. It has to work, this problem is simply Y/N.

Bucky pulls off to the side of the road near a little park in some rural town way outside of New York City where he knows Y/N went through not even twenty-three hours ago. He opens his door, slamming it shut in frustration before taking in a big breath of fresh air. The day is slightly overcast yet he doesn't appear to mind it at all, having the hot sun blaring down upon him never feels very pleasant. Then again, maybe he's just more familiar with colder temperatures.

A crow flies down across the vacant road from him, it ignores Bucky as it jumps onto the road in order to pick at some road kill of a dead flattened squirrel. Bucky reverts his gaze when his eyes soon land upon a bent wooden telephone line further up the road where it looks like a car ran right into it. Wanting to stretch his legs for a bit and feed into his curiosity, Bucky jogs across the street and over to the area of flattened grass and wood splinters.

He observes the wreckage. Its just as he saw from farther away, a splintered post with pieces of wood spread across the grass from the impact. A couple glass chunks shimmer in the few rays of sunlight peeking out from behind the clouds. There are tire marks imprinted into the mudded ground leading up to the post, he crouches down to get a better look at the source of impact.

A dog barks in the background, its legs getting closer and closer to Bucky until a wet slobbery nose finds its way onto Bucky's right arm. The face of a golden retriever greets him as a young man races to the spot looking very embarrassed.

"Trout! Get away from the man, be nice! Be nice! He might not want your kisses!" He shouts desperately, "Trout!"

Bucky pets the friendly dog while his owner runs to their spot before standing to greet him, "He's fine, don't worry about it."

The red faced man smiles shyly, "I'm so sorry. He gets so excited whenever there's a stranger around I just don't understand it."

Bucky shakes his head, "It's fine, really. I like dogs."

The dog sniffs around Bucky's boots before sniffing the skid marks, "Oh I'm Gio by the way, sorry about my boy Trout. I love him but he can be a lot."

"Hi." Mutters Bucky, "I'm James."

"Nice to meet you..oh..Trout drop that piece of wood you nucklehead it's sharp!" The dog stops before dropping the wood, it starts sniffing around the grounds again. Gio looks at Bucky, "It's too bad what happened here, just last night too. Thank God nobody died! It's just unfortunate."

"What happened?"

Gio nods towards the splintered pole, "Some nutcase ran out in front of the guy driving and then bam, he just swerved to miss 'em and ended up totaling his car and getting a bruised collar bone. He's my neighbor. Poor guy, never got a proper look at the idiot who did it either so there's no one to blame."

Bucky's brows furrow, "No one saw who ran in front of your friend?"

Gio stops a second to think harder on the matter, "Hmm...okay wait a second Nick did say this person moved like faster then a frickin' deer. They were here one second and gone the next, right into the woods."

"Where is Nick now? Is he okay?"

"Oh yeah he's fine, just chillin' in his hospital bed for another day until his headache goes away. Guess he also got a concussion or something, some shit luck I tell you."

"Thank you, I gotta go." Says Bucky quickly before turning on his heels and jogging across the street. Leaving a very confused Gio to go run after his dog again.

There's a hefty possibility that Y/N had absolutely nothing to do with anything surrounding that crash, however, Bucky has to know. He pulls into the Westonville Hospital before Winter Soldier sneaking his way inside and now here he stands on the other side of the door to Nick's room, 213. He knocks, a man answers and says to come in, Bucky does. Shutting the door right after.

The man lays upright in bed, sipping on a juice box as he quickly locks eyes with Bucky. "Hello." Says the twenty-something year old, "You a nurse?"

Bucky could have laughed, "No. Just here to ask you a couple questions."

"Listen man, the police already got my statement. I wasn't drunk...nor on anything at the time. I don't do that shit while driving, I wanna stay alive okay?"

"Right." Mutters Bucky, "I just want to know if you saw this person who caused you to wreck."

He eyes Bucky suspiciously, "Dude are you with the FBI or something? Cause the police think I just saw a deer but I'm telling you it wasn't a deer okay?"

"What was it then?"

The man looks from the door then back to Bucky, he makes a waving motion for him to walk closer, "Dude, this was some lady. She was so fast I never even saw her till she was almost road kill...then....and you're not gonna believe me....then I swear to God, she pushed my car." Whispers Nick before nodding, "Dude that's how I went into the pole, she pushed me and I lost control and BAM! Right into a pole. Asshole, my damn car is fucked."

"Do you know what she looked like?" Nick then proceeds to give an accurate description of you and all your beautiful chaotic-ness, who's apparently still not very fond of human transportation vehicles.  

Bucky then glances from Nick still rambling about you and what a dickhead you must be, to the window showing the woods and half a parking lot. He can't let you escape him again, you might end up killing someone next time and that absolutely cannot happen.

——

Stupid men! Stupid humans getting in your way! These people are irritating and bothersome, all you wanted was to search for the Ancient One in peace. All you want is to find her and get the fuck off this planet so you can confront your brother and...

"Miss are you okay?" A scratchy voice speaks to you from the car to your left, you turn your head to meet the face of a young woman looking at you with kind eyes, "You need a ride?"

"No."

She gives you a look, your appearance is admittedly more roughed up then you would like, but it's been a rough couple days since your last shower and you're technically on the run from Earth's Avengers. "You sure? I got room in here, and a nice place to stay with food and a shower too. Just tryna be nice to someone who looks like they could use a hand." You look like you could use a hand to the face.

Your brows furrow, she reeks of too much perfume and something else, "What kind of food?" You technically do need a ride and this may be your only chance to get one somewhere away from this place in the middle of nowhere. Also a place to stay for the night would be admittedly very nice considering you've been sleeping in trees and behind people's sheds.

Her eyes light up in surprise, "Anything you want. Just tell me and I got you."

"Good."

She unlocks the door, "Come on in. I'm Ava by the way. Nice to meet you, now I hope you don't mind but back at my place I got a couple roommates. But don't worry they come and go, they won't bother you I promise." You don't believe her, but hop in next to her anyways. She looks like she could use a better friend then whoever she stays with. You can smell at least one of them on her.

She gives you a strange faltering smile when you take notice of a nose piercing; she wears a jacket and jeans, although an odd tattoo showing off some line of numbers keeps itself on her right wrist hidden by some colorful bracelets. All in all she is an attractive woman. But her car is no better then her person, the scent is vulgar and repulsive but you're admittedly too hungry to care. Too much perfume.

The ride to her apartment complex takes about twenty minutes, in this time Ava has explained to you how her favorite food, chicken alfredo, is made. She also won't stop looking at the long mirror above your heads, it's like something keeps drawing her attention but there's nothing behind the car of any important significance. Maybe that's just a human thing?

Eventually she takes a couple turns that passes more street stores, houses, and apartments until she drives near a gas station and takes a left for an apartment building of reddish brick that looks like a shitty castle.

It's nestled within the town, with its rear to a small park, oddly enough she claims you can see the city from the roof. Getting out, you watch as she shuts her door before jogging to the back and pulling out a couple groceries. "Oh hey there, can you get the waters, there's like three packs here but we can come back for them later."

You quickly walk to the back of her trunk and lean down to pick up all three waters with ease, her eyes go big, "Oh wow..okay yeah, that'll work." She shuts the back, you begin following her across the parking lot. Stomach growling.

Her wary eyes fall onto you, "So uh, you lift?"

"No."

She nods, "Cool cool, uh you from around here?"

"No."

"Okay cool, I am, well not originally...I was actually from Arizona but then I ran away when I was thirteen because my home life was pretty shit and then I met my boyfriend Jed and he took me here and..." Her face shifts into a frown before it regains it's half smile once more, "Doesn't matter now I guess, it's not fantastic here...with him. But I got a place to stay and a roof over my head and he gets me anything I want really. So it's not so bad."

You can't help but feel somethings not right with her, and this bothers you deeply, "So uh, how's your lover? Jed."

She frowns, "Oh he's nice....I wouldn't say lover I guess....and he's kinda older then me but it's fine really. You might see him, he comes and goes yunno?"

She opens the glass doors for you to walk inside, the area smells of stale air and smoke, "How old?"

She purses her lips together, "Not that much older, I'm seventeen he's just a little above that. But it works for us, he's got me a nice place and he loves me so that's nice." Her smile falters, you can tell something isn't right here but can't quite place your finger on it.

Ava keeps silent for the rest of the trek upstairs until she leads you down a long hallway to a tall white door reading A8 on the front, a small glass porthole in the center. She gets her keys out, "Try not to touch anything, he doesn't like messes okay? Just uh, follow me okay, he might have a friend here."

"Alright then. Proceed." She gives a little nod before unlocking the door and opening it up to reveal a large apartment as clean as a button, with the exception of a few tall thin glass bottles empty of all liquid laying on the short glass table in the lounging area. A large screen is on showcasing something of little importance to you.

Ava sets the groceries on the kitchen counter before racing over to the short table, "Oh sorry about the mess, please just set the waters down by the trash can. Give me a moment." You look down to find a tall thin metal can, doesn't look like a trash can but you set the three cases of water down anyways.

Standing in the middle of her kitchen she hastily rushes in to drop the bottles in the trash can, "I'll put the stuff away, do you-do you want anything?"

"Whatever gives me enough strength to continue on my journey."

"Right. Yeah okay uh we got," She opens up the fridge, "we got some burritos from last night. And fruit....a lot of beer....you don't want that. Here, I'll heat this up for you okay." She shuts the fridge and takes the assumed burrito to another square object hanging from the wall. She pops open the door before placing the food inside and shutting it.

She turns it on. "What is that device?" You ask a sit makes a strange vacuum sound.

She raises a brow, "A microwave." Voice on the tinge of humor, the microwave beeps and she soon opens it back up. "Here ya go! It's a day old so don't worry, still fresh."

She hands it to you, you look down at the warm thing wrapped in a brown paper, "Appreciated."

Your meal is well received and admittedly pretty delicious, once finished do you walk over to the giant glass window to have a look outside, you can see the tops of many trees and farther away across the greenery lays a city just as Ava had spoken of.

Maybe the Ancient One resides somewhere in there, hidden, but within the ginormous labyrinth of steel, cement, and glass. Farther down the hallway a door swings open and the pattering of bare feet is heard walking down the tiled floors of shiny white. This place really is clean, like a small palace for the mortals.

The man stops at the end of the halls archway though you don't care to look at him, "Ava who's the bitch over there? I thought Jed wasn't buying anymore for a few weeks." Whispers the man to the kind woman, Ava, who stands frozen in the kitchen.

You immediately don't like him, but stay your ground to listen, she whispers back, "She's a friend. Needed somewhere to stay for a day or so."

He walks over to her, "He's gonna be pissed when he sees your new friend here. If she's not here to sell, get her the fuck out before your man comes home tonight."

"Tonight?"

"Yeah tonight. His trip to Vegas ended yesterday, he's on his way. Don't you know how time works?"

She shakes her head, "Guess I just forgot is all. I'll make sure she's gone."

He looks over to give you a proper once over, you can hear his heartbeat quicken, "Not too bad either. Nice ass, she looks good..real good, it's a damn shame she's not here to stay for the fun. I wouldn't mind a couple of rounds with her myself."

Your fists clench, you've had enough of this jabbering animal, "Oh really?" You turn around to watch as his eyes go wide when they take notice of the golden color of your irises, "What filth you spill off of that thing you call a mouth is repulsive and disgusting. Who are you may I ask?"

He quickly retains his swagger once again, he takes a step forward, "I'm Jed's right hand man, Antonio, I run this bitch when he's away and I don't like how you're talking to me."

"I'm not entirely fond of your existence. Leave us, I want to speak with Ava alone."

Antonio's face shows bewildered rejection, "Excuse me?"

You take a threatening step forward, "I don't believe my tongue slipped. You heard me correctly. Leave." He keeps still as a statue, mind still processing your words. Clearly no on had ever bothered to talk to him like this before.

He blinks and points a hand up for emphasis, "No whore tells me what I can and can't do in my own goddamn house!" He immediately rushes past Ava to grab something under the kitchen bar.

She gasps in surprise, "Tony no! Don't do this! Put it away she didn't mean it, she doesn't I swear! I swear!"

He walks back around to shove her into the couch, "Shut up." He throws up his arm to reveal a black hand held object that could be nothing else but a small gun, you stare at it in curiosity, expression interested and unfazed.

He doesn't like that, he tilts the gun at you angrily, "What's up now huh! You ain't telling me to do nothin' I run this fucker up in here! So you're gonna fuckin' listen to me you whore! I'll fu.." Antonio's body stiffens, his eyes go wide as saucers when he realizes he's not able to move, not able to speak.

Hands kept to your sides, you curl the fingers of your right hand to bloodbend this imbecile. Moving this hand to the right, Antonio's grasp is forced open and the gun clatters to the floor. "What are you doing!?" Shouts Ava fearfully.

"Teaching a dog a lesson."

Curling the fingers of your other hand, Antonio is forced to walk in staggered painful steps across the carpet at your will, Ava gasps in fright as she watches your little horror show. "Men don't treat their people like animals, you want to act like a beast. Then you'll be one."

His throat makes a dry crackly sound as he tries to scream when you move your hands to orchestrate a new action, Antonio is forced to his knees where he crawls like a dog across the clean carpet. A frightened man he becomes, his movements choppy and forced, body awkward and stiff as he moves on all fours. Proud of your work, you walk over to the man and crouch down to reach his level, "You see, the universe has created us all for a reason. Whether we are powerful or not, that control we have can be taken as it can be given."

He mumbles a reply that cannot be heard properly even by your hears.

"You know of your power?" He shakes his head as you smirk, "Your strength is built from fear and hatred. That is no way to find your place in the world, that is how tyrants lead."

Drool runs down the side of his mouth as his eyes look up to you pleadingly. "Stop it! You're hurting him!" Shouts Ava.

You give Antonio a pitiful look, "I know. And this creature deserves more then I'm willing him to do, but because you've gained my respect. I will release him." Standing, you flick your hands and Antonio is released from your trance. He coughs and sputters in a curled up heap on the floor like a beaten old dog.

"Pathetic." You mutter dryly as Ava breaths heavily from the couch.

"Wh-what are you?" She whispers, "Are you a witch?"

"No. But I am someone who is done with this place." You give her a respectful tilt of your head, "Ava, I thank you for your hospitality, but I must leave." She watches as you take one last look around the room before walking towards the closed door. Turning the handle you're prepared to exit when she screams. "Antonio no!"

Boom!

The bullet stops three inches from the back of your head, whipping around to face your assailant, he fires two more rounds as you halt the bullets in their tracks. He registers what's happening and quickly chooses to pull the trigger again. As a plethora of steel flies your way, you raise an open palm that causes them all to freeze in place.

The room goes deathly silent before Antonio takes a single step and you've sent all five bullets straight through his vulnerable flesh. Blood flies across the walls as he slumps to the ground while Ava gasps in terror, too afraid to make a sound.

You frown, gaze set on Ava, "I'm sorry I had to do this in front of you. He gave me no choice, but I think this loss will not be mourned over." Your golden eyes flicker back down at the bullet ridden body, "A quick death is more then he deserved. So long Ava, be brave."

The door opens.

"What the fuck happened here?!" Speaks a man most certainly in his late thirties as he sets something on the ground, "Who's this bitch?"

Ava's expression shifts to fear as you let out a tired sigh, eyes set to the man you know as Jed, "An old friend." ——

Crouched down by a river, you rub off flecks of blood that dissipate into the murky water like forgotten memories. You just wanted to eat and rest a while as you gathered your thoughts. But here you are, you've killed two humans and have damaged a couple busses in the process of it all. Not to mention that one car the other night...at least that man kept his life.

This realm is complicated and busy, there's not enough wilderness to hide in and there are certainly too many prying eyes that can catch you with their small square devices easier then you'd like. Thankfully Ava had not seen your rampage on the internet so she wasn't able to instantly recognize you. Then again you weren't wearing your armor.

However your eye color certainly doesn't aid you in finding a way into the city close by, that's still too far for your liking, people will undoubtedly stare. At this point you don't trust a single soul, and anyone close enough to see your face would most likely report you to the authorities in an instant.

Your goal has been thwarted one too many times and that shit does not fly with you one bit. Find the Ancient One, have her open a portal to your realm, and from there kick your brothers ass. It's all very simple, well at least it should be. Stupid Midgardians.

Hrrrrr Hrrrrrrrr! A loud horn blares from within the woods to your back right, twisting around and standing at attention, your fists emit flame when a huge lumbering mass of metal rolls through the trees practically making the ground shake.

It sounds like a tiny thunderstorm, you've never seen anything like it except for when you where in Norway but that vehicle was significantly smaller and less loud. "God this place is insufferable." You mutter, annoyed by the less then peaceful atmosphere of Midgard.

So far you've evaded the watchful eyes of the Avengers for the past three days and have gotten nowhere on your quest for vengeance. And now this thing just adds to your stirred up pot of frustration.

Taking a breath, you decide to wander through the trees until you've found the tracks where that metal vessel was drawing its power from, oddly enough the steel bars attached to plates of wood does not give off energy. Strange.

Figuring it must be the vehicle itself, you sway your mind from pondering the idea as your thoughts drift to that of home and the necklace hidden around your neck. This valued object was your dying mother's, a heirloom of your linage, and a damn powerful piece of jewelry.

But your brother and his wicked ideas, he wanted to use it for his grant thoughts of tyranny and power over the nine realms. A fool, no one could ever claim such a feat, no place needs rules like such from one being calling all the shots. It's madness.

It's insane.

Shaking your head, you keep following down the tracks as you listen to the sounds of cars in the far off distance. Birds chirp and flutter by while minding their business in the forest, although you could have sworn you heard a soft thud in the dirt behind you. A shuffle of stones maybe?

A deer perhaps? No, this is no deer; halting your trek to the city, you place your hands upon your hips before slowly turning around, "I'd expected as much. You are a clever man after all....Bucky."

The dark haired man greets you with a shy grin as he stands there off to the side of the tracks, dressed in casual attire like that when you saw him in Norway. He seems genuinely happy to see you, "I wish I could stay away." Replies Bucky in a playful tone, "But you've killed two human traffickers and I gotta make sure you don't hurt anyone else. Even if they deserve it."

You scoff, "I could end your life right now if I wanted to, kill all your friends next and then burn this world to ash and dust trying to get what I want. No matter the cowards I've killed."

He shrugs, "That sounds harsh. I'd rather you didn't actually, kinda like being alive." He's such a smartass in the best way, yet you hold back a smile to keep your noble aurora about you.

"Fair point I suppose. This Earth may be greatly flawed, but I have no qualms with the people here but that of my own business."

"Right. Your own business, finding the Ancient One and dealing with your brother and all that stuff." Nods Bucky, "Y/N, you know we could help you..."

"I don't need it! I'll find my way through this planet myself.  Alone!" You shout, causing the trees to creak and moan from a surplus of wind that blows Bucky's hair about. He knows what you're capable of, but he has to try and persuade you anyways.

He looks almost apprehensive to approach you, "Y/N please. I know we all got off on the wrong foot, probably by a lot. But my friends are good people, we want to help you find what you're looking for. I promise you that." Says Bucky with a pleading look, "No lies. I promise."

You give him a conflicted glare as you think of your options; he found you somehow, he legitimately wants to help, and you desperately need a way off this damn planet. Maybe they do know a way, maybe they'll actually be able to help you, maybe Bucky is truthful?

He goes to take a step forward when you throw a hand out, "Stop." He keeps still as you take a breath, "Bucky, you give me your word?"

"I do."

"Promise!"

Raising his hands up, he gives you a sincere look, "I promise Y/N."

Taking a long moment to think over his words, you finally nod, "Good." He watches as you walk across the tracks until you're within a couple feet of him, he swallows, unsure if you might have just lied and are about to set him on fire. Instead he's relieved when you gift him a tight lipped grin, "Fine then, let us leave this place."

"Awesome.....yeah, okay good...well I'm parked back that way. We can just walk on the tracks instead of through the woods. Easier that way." He takes a couple steps back the way you came, when you don't move does Bucky stop and reach a hand out for you to take, "I'm not going to hurt you Y/N, I promised I'd help you remember?"

"I haven't forgotten." You quickly answer him.

"Good because I intend to keep it." He smiles softly, beautiful stormy blues focused all on you with a gloved hand ready for you to take.

You shake your head before walking past him, "Fine but I'm not shaking your hand."

Bucky chuckles to himself as he watches you practically swagger down the side of the tracks away from him. Quickly does he break from his staring trance to jog over to your side. The two of you walk for a little ways in complete silence until you glance over at him when your curiosity gets the better of you. There's just one tiny question you still need answered, "Well, how'd you find me?"

Bucky holds back a grin, "Your pocket." He points down towards your jackets pocket. Giving him a look of confusion, you reach down and feel inside for whatever he's on about, suddenly your fingers touch something round and metal attached to the inside wall.

Taking a hold of this odd device, you tug it loose before bringing your hand into the open, "What the hell is this?" You ask.

Bucky reaches out to take the object from you, he holds it up, "This. Is a tracker."

"That thing? It's like a thick coin, how does it manage to do such a feat?"

"Technology, radio waves. It's not my design, but with it I was able to follow where you went. Granted you're more elusive with your traveling then I'd first realized, but it did it's job...and now I'm here."

"Yes, now you're here. Maybe you really are braver then I first thought, or just a plain fool. I could have stuck to my word and killed you." You snap your fingers, "Just like that."

He chuckles, "I had a feeling you wouldn't."

"Oh really? What made you assume I would be merciful?"

"When we met for the first time in Norway, and later at the base. You didn't hurt me, well I guess I should say you didn't try and squeeze the life out of me. Or set me on fire.."

"I set your jacket on fire." You point out as he smiles.

"You did. I liked that jacket too." Muses Bucky, "Still, you let me live both times. Even let my friends live too, Y/N, I don't think you're so bad at all."

You hum in thought, "Your words are kind and humbling. But I do not feel worthy of such claims." He has no idea who you are, what you've done. So much he doesn't know.

Bucky frowns, "Why not?"

"I have done nothing but add more chaos to this realm with my existence here, I have been betrayed and for that I was filled with rage taken out on innocent people living their lives. I want to be worthy of what you say I am, but I am not." His heart hurts at your valiantly honest words, if only he could understand completely.

"Believe me Y/N, you aren't nearly as bad as you think you are. There's been way worse people throughout history here before you ever showed up."

"I believe your words though my personal occurrence's chance to lessen these people compared to what I have done centuries ago. Do not misinterpret all of what I speak, I understand there are always beings harming others for their own sick pleasure, however I did not frighten for enjoyment. Quite the opposite."

He could just about give up his metal arm forever just to know what the hell you're talking about. What kind of life did you live before all of this? Bucky soon takes out a small square device with his one gloved hand, "I trust your word on that. And hopefully we're able to help you...I just gotta get us a ride out of here first." He turns on a black screen and slides his finger across to unlock, "I have where I parked pin pointed via another tracker."

"You don't recall where you've come from?"

"Yeah, I mean no..no, I do remember the direction I came in, it's just I was running so fast to find you I forget exactly where my car is. Don't worry this will only take a moment."

Holding back a grin at the way he muddles around on that screen of his, you divert your gaze elsewhere to look around at the trees and other various greenery spread about as usual on a planet such as this one. It's fascinating, almost like that of your home world in Vanaheim. How you miss that place. The vast mountains spread throughout the landscape, huge lumbering trees taller then the cellphone towers you've passed, and great skies of blue where dragons fly at will.

Suddenly a stick cracks in the trees to your right, you turn while Bucky pays little attention, a crow flies out and into the blue sky it goes. Easy now, just a bird, nothing more. The wind picks up for a second and you can almost catch the scent of sulfur when a ball of fire erupts from the trees ready to kill.

The spherical flame screams towards you and Bucky, who's by now dropped his phone onto the tracks, "Y/N watch out!" He shouts fearfully, hand gripping onto your shoulder as you keep a strong fearless stance to the approaching flame.

Throwing a hand out, you divert the ball into the gravel where it bursts like a small firework, rocks flying everywhere as you stand at the ready for whatever happens next. "Y/N! What the hell was that!" Shouts Bucky.

"A scout. I think one of my brother's loyalists found me."

"A scou..." Another ball of flame soars towards the two of you and then another right behind it as you maneuver your body to deflect each of them in quick succession when out of the scorched trees does a smirking woman reveal herself. Her smile is proud and wicked, taller then Bucky she stands and impeccably strong she appears.

She wears armor closely resembling your own, but instead of blues, silver, and white. Her armor is black and red, silver replaced with shimmering obsidian as she walks into the evening light. Her eyes flicker gold like your own, she tilts her head at you, "Princess Y/N of Vanaheim. An honor to meet you, truly." She bows with mockery, you immediately despise her.

"What dog is this who speaks to me?"

She grimaces, "Aüla, master of flame, Phoenix of Vanaheim, I am here to bring what stolen jewelry lays upon your neck. What belongs to King Leyondros." She points a sharp nailed finger to your neck, "That, is a house Lavpranthus family heirloom."

"You think I was born yesterday? That incompetent tyrant who dare claim himself as king does not deserve what treasure I possess. He is barely a brother to me now, and you, what business do you serve?"

She smirks, gifting Bucky with a wink as she wiggles her fingers with flame, "He's sent his best out to find your whereabouts since he's exiled you. I just happened to be lucky enough to land on Midgard where wouldn't you know it, here keeps the banished Princess herself. I couldn't be more fortunate." She opens up her palm like a needy child, "Now Y/N, the object I so desire."

"You will die trying."

She holds up a threatening fist of hot flame, "I will be bathed in riches! I will be loved! King Leyondros will welcome his champion with open arms as I present him with the necklace stolen by his traitor sister! With grand tidings of her annihilation!"

You share a dark look with Aüle as you step in front of Bucky, "I do not care to know what bargaining from the beasts of this realm you made to find me. And I certainly do not care for the false promises my brother has warped into your mind, you cannot take my life and you cannot have this necklace."

She calls flame into both hands, "Then I'll take it off your burnt corpse!" She thrusts her hands forward causing a burst of hot orange flames to shoot like dragon fire straight for yourself and Bucky.

Anticipating this action, you create a wall of your own fire that shatters her advances, you turn to the wide eyed brunette, "Bucky forgive me for not handling this sooner. I hadn't realized she was here."

"It's fine." Mumbles Bucky, chest rising and falling with heavy breaths as he stares fearfully at the angry woman spewing fire at you still.

Focused back on Aüla, she suddenly begins creating whips of flame that crack and slash at the air. She throws a whip towards Bucky but you're able to deflect it easily, in retaliation of her advances, you thrust a burst of dusty wind knocking her backwards.

She tumbles across the gravel like a discarded sack of potatoes, jumping gracefully down from the high point of the tracks, you land nearby this hellfire spawn who staggers to her feet. Rubbing the dust from out of her eyes, she coughs, "Foul play Princess, I should have guessed you'd cheap shot."

"You still believe you're leaving here with my necklace?"

Leaving her charcoal stained eyes be, she opens her palms to flame, "Well I certainly don't intend on perishing at your hand. I will get what I came for."

You throw a quizzical look, is she insane? Not wanting to ponder her mental stability, you use the gravel to crawl it up to her knees where it fuses and roots itself into the ground, she flails her arms trying to regain balance. Angered by this, Aüla clenches her fists, tightly hugging them to her chest as she concentrates.

A small orange glow emits from the center of her chest before she screams while opening her arms to the sky and with that her whole body erupts with flame like that of a Phoenix reborn. Tree branches and leaves alike are burnt and singed nearby while her anchor is melted.  Aüla levitates freely now, body a mass of hot flames as she stares furiously down at you with eyes of black charcoal.

"Behold the Phoenix! Now you will obey by law of the one true king!" Fire is thrown like thin arrows towards your face, again, easily deflected into the gravel below.

She chuckles darkly, thrusting a hand of intense flame that causes you to fall backwards across the ground. Pushing yourself up by the pads of your hands, she takes this vulnerable moment to race after Bucky with wings of fire.

Face contorted like a melted candle, her arms open wide as she prepares to embrace Bucky to the flames. Jumping up, you bend your arms, moving them in opposite directions on a linear path to conjure some type of protection. Aüla slams into an enchanted force field of dark blues that sends her flailing backwards like a bursting firework.

Regaining her balance, she levitates, scowling in disgust, "You? Would protect this mortal man?"

Your gaze falls onto Bucky, he's standing there, expression fearful and wide as he looks at you desperately. You take a step forward, "I will."

"But why? He is nothing compared to you, to us, he's simply an insect on a leaf."

"He is someone who has showed me more kindness in the last couple days then some of my own people have in the past hundred years!" You shout furiously before using your magic to paralyze her like you did with Wanda and Vision.

She struggles to move but all efforts are unfruitful, "Do not! Don't. You. Dare!" She screams as you take another fearless step towards her, raising your hands in a beautiful fluid motion, her obsidian irises flash with terror.

"Aüla, Phoenix of Vanaheim, I admire your efforts and valor. But I am not so merciful when my life as been threatened, as someone of these nine realms with some type of authority still. I, Y/N Lavpranthus of Vanaheim, condemn you to die." Your golden eyes flash with a noble flair of judgment while your hands sway like subtle waves on a beach.

"No. No. Nooo..." Her screams are eradicated when a burst of water consumes her entire vessel, she sizzles and smokes as you draw the river water away to reveal nothing but discarded broken armor. She never even noticed you were doing this.

As a plethora of water dissipates into steam from where she once stood, more liquid fills through the cracks in the gravel while you slowly wander over to the dark spot stained onto the center tracks. Kneeling down, you pick up an obsidian gauntlet cracked down the middle curve. "Who was that?" Asks Bucky from behind you.

"One of my brothers scouts. His best fire-bender.." You study the intricate markings that dance like vines around the metalwork, "..a phoenix in human form."

There is a long pause before he asks, "Why are you being hunted Y/N?"

You sigh, head bowed to the earth, "It's a long story."

Bucky frowns down at you, he's not sure what to do, but he knows you're deeply troubled by whatever events have led you to this point. A comforting hand rests upon your shoulder, "You don't have to tell me now. But I think we should go."

Dropping the broken gauntlet onto the dark stained wood, you stand, "Perhaps you're right. Who knows what else lurks in the shadows waiting to pounce. I'd rather not have you injured on my behalf."

Bucky shares a lopsided grin, "Appreciated. Now come on, I know the way home." Directs Bucky as the two of you begin walking down the tracks for wherever he speaks of.

Maybe these people aren't as bad as you'd first thought, unfortunately there are still evils that are desperate to find you. Until that time comes again.

-

Tagged:  @buckylokisimp​ @diegos-butt​ @minigranger​ @bibliophilewednesday​ @holyhumorliteraturelight​ @lilacs-lavender​  @a-girl-who-loves-disney​ @bizarrebibitch​ @starkssnarks​ @vikingqueen28​ @jmstz​ @thehornytitties​ @staygoldsquatchling02​ @cleverzonkwombatsludge​ @mischiefmanaged71​​ @noragracebrewer​   @atomicpersonacheesecake  @thescarlettvvitch @shawnartmendes​

[sofwrites]

Each other's biggest ally

Polin Week Day 1: Favorite Quote

“No, his method of attack was a lazy smile, a well-timed joke. If Colin ever lost his temper...

Penelope shook her head slightly, unable even to fathom it. Colin would never lose his temper. At least not in front of her. He'd have to be really, truly—no, profoundly —upset to lose his temper. And that kind of fury could only be sparked by someone you really, truly, profoundly cared about.” - Romancing Mister Bridgerton, pg. 64

The one where Colin profoundly cared and had no choice but to lose his temper.

Type: One-shot, angst, sentimentalism, protective/mywife!Colin, protectective/myhusband!Penelope

Length: 3.3k

Read on ao3! Or continue under the cut

In the late months of the year 1825, Penelope Featherington Bridgerton published her debut novel titled The Wallflower. And in the early months of the year 1826, she relished in the praise of her work and suffered in the consequences of her now-public identity.

The response to her book was generally positive. Whether or not they were willing to admit it, the members of the ton were eager to uncover the scathing details surrounding Mrs. Bridgerton’s former pen name. They devoured the secrets hidden between the lines of the pages- forming their own conclusions and theories of what was fact and what was fiction.

It seemed that after many years of Penelope appearing to be invisible, the gravity of her voice was finally truly understood.

But as in all life, there were complications as well.

One gentleman in particular was quick to make his discontent known, and it was all due to just one short excerpt.

Although Beatrice did not befriend even half of the ton, she had made the acquaintance of nearly everyone at one point. And though they never realized, she scrutinized them almost as much as they disregarded her.

Even with her close examinations, she generally liked the people she met. There were bores, many in fact, as well as those with whom conversation could rarely be carried, but most were reasonably pleasant. There were exceptions, however, as there always are. One such exception was as follows:

It is an earlier season for Beatrice, one still full of wonder and disillusioned hope. She looks at the dancefloor with wistfulness in her eyes, dreaming, praying that her prince charming will notice her from across the room and ask her to take his arm.

He does not, of course. His mind is still focused fully on the small group that surrounds him, drawn to him like a shining star amongst the thinly veiled candlelight. Although the music is certainly too loud and the conversations too many, our heroine can perfectly hear his laughter through the crowded ballroom. She can hear it because she knows it better than she knows her own.

Later that evening, he’ll ask her to dance. He’ll remember her minuscule presence in his life, likely prodded by a sharp finger to his spine and a voice carrying a gentle reminder. And even though she knows why he will do so, knows that it is due to a kind sense of duty rather than true desire, she will cherish it all the same.

Right now, however, Beatrice remains at the edge of the dancefloor, her silent woes interrupted by the familiar voice of her mother.

“Beatrice, dear, this is Mr. Wetherden. Mr. Wetherden, I present to you my daughter, Beatrice Harpenton.”

Another bachelor, this one ranking second-tier rather than third. Her mother seems to have given her more credit this evening, Beatrice thinks as she looks at the familiar face.

The introduction is an unnecessary formality, of course, as are many of their rules; they were made acquaintances during her first season. Nonetheless, society calls for her to curtsy and give a gracious smile, and she obliges.

At the same time, he assesses her similarly to how he did so a few years before. And she sees it immediately, the dismissal that passes over his eyes even before he fully bends into his low bow.

Her mother leaves them to it- the stifled conversation in an even more stifling ballroom. The unfortunate girl in the canary-colored dress stands on the sidelines, trapped in conversation with yet another uninterested bachelor who is just as much forced upon her as she is on him.

He speaks endlessly, unquestionably more for his benefit than hers. He spends fourteen minutes explaining the difference between rugby and football. She suppresses three yawns and is interrupted twenty-six times throughout the topic, clearly expected to be an audience member rather than a participant.

At this time, she thinks this is Mr. Wetherden’s worst offense. Later on, when she is years older, Beatrice discovers that she was sorely mistaken in her youth. That without the cautionary lights of London (albeit often cloudy and forgiving), he is much worse.

She later on learns about his propensity to unwilling women. To frightened young housemaids who are often not given the options that women of a higher class are granted.

Our heroine also finds out later exactly how commonplace such a tendency is. And with it, her vision of social seasons- the one with balls and picnics and musicales- begins to splinter.

Penelope hadn’t named him, of course. She hadn’t named anyone directly.

She couldn’t publish a memoir, not really. Even though she was related to a fine variation of important characters in society, she couldn’t put such a strain on her family, and particularly not on her husband. Her husband, her lovely, amazing husband who supported her through the entire process even despite the fact that so much of their own private history was laid out in the pages of her novel. Penelope had written the truth, which hadn’t been entirely pretty. But Colin had agreed with her that the truth was more important than sheltering their secrets.

But even though she couldn’t publish a direct recounting of her life and experiences with the ton, she’d been unwilling to just hide behind fabricated stories.

Penelope’s telling of that night at the ball wasn’t completely factual. She did not know how many times Phillip Cavender interrupted her during their conversation, nor whether or not Colin had even been present that evening. But the details of the matter weren’t as important to her as shedding light on the entire situation.

She’d been young and naive during her first few seasons, believing that a few nasty comments and looks were really the worst of what society had to offer. Later on, she’d found out that she had been wrong, and that there was much worse than she’d ever known. And when her sister-in-law, Sophie, had recounted the night she and Benedict had met (well, met again), Penelope knew that she had to shed light on the matter. She had to make it clear what happened outside of the fancy dresses and giggling parties.

But as mentioned, such decisions did not come without their objections.

“Thank God, they’re leaving.”

The words came from just a few feet behind them, full of indignancy and bitterness. The couple had been walking together, arm-in-arm, towards the door, quite eager to return home for the evening.

They’d been attending an intimate house party at the request of the gentleman’s mother. She’d been unable to make her attendance that evening and had asked that her son and his wife go in her stead. They hadn’t been particularly excited about the prospect, but they’d agreed for her.

The party itself hadn’t been bad. The food was good, the music was pleasant, and almost everyone in attendance had offered the woman praise for her work. Though they hadn’t exactly been excited to attend, the evening hadn’t been at all poor.

That was, until they’d been nearing the exit and heard the troublesome remark behind them.

Colin glanced down at his wife, who grimaced, her nose scrunching as her eyes closed. They’d been met with a number of sneers and snide comments in the last few weeks, but they never became easier to hear.

With a small sigh, he turned them both around, looking directly at the man holding a glass of port too large and wearing a lip too curled.

Colin gave him a smile, the familiar one he used whenever he was looking at something that both irritated and mildly amused him. “Didn’t see you there, Cavender. So nice of you to offer us a sendoff.”

The opposing man’s mouth turned downwards, a stark contrast to the grin still on Colin’s face. Penelope swallowed, quickly cutting in. “We really must be getting home.”

With a pointed look directed towards her husband, she began pulling him back towards the door. Though Penelope would have loved to see Phillip Cavender get put into his place, she knew far better than to spar with a man holding a petty vendetta.

But before they’d even fully turned around, there was a mocking bark of laughter, followed by a slight slurring of words. “You do everything she tells you then? Follow her around like a lapdog?”

This time, Colin’s brow lifted ever so slightly, the same half-smile still imprinted on his lips. Penelope felt an uncomfortable heat rising up her neck as she reluctantly turned from the door again.

“If it means getting to share my life with this incredible woman,” Colin sent her a small wink before shrugging, “Then, by all means, call me a lapdog.”

There was some tittering around them by the small audience they’d attracted. With a quick glance, Penelope could see the angry lurch in Cavender’s throat, the narrowing of his eyes, the twitching of his fingers as they tightened around his glass.

Please, just let it go. Let us just leave and go home.

But he didn’t. Of course, he didn’t.

“I know what lies she’s spread about me.”

“Oh?” Colin’s face took on a thoughtful expression, one that might have been convincing in any other circumstance. “I don’t recall ever hearing my wife mentioning you.”

Cavender’s glare deepened. “In that bloody book of hers.”

Penelope cringed inwardly as she felt the twitch of Colin’s hand in hers. Her eyes darted around the room as an overwhelming sense of dread engulfed her. The ballroom was small and the guests were bored, and a public row was certainly enough to draw a crowd- one that was full of prying eyes and listening ears.

Colin’s face remained the picture of serenity even though Penelope could sense the angry heat rising from him. It was something she could feel in him that others always missed, a secret fire that he did so well in masking.

Looking at the other man, Colin let out a sigh, one that was forcibly tired, as though he were speaking down to an overly emotional child. “I can assure you that all the characters in my wife’s novel were fabricated. And if you saw yourself in one of the less attractive personages, then I’d venture to say that such is simply a reflection of your own self-image.”

The whispers around them grew, and Cavender sputtered for a moment, clearly caught off guard by the easy taunt. But his surprise only lasted a moment before he hardened once more.

A man with a petty vendetta did not often allow himself to be diverted.

His eyes flickered to Penelope before they returned to Colin and he sneered. “You realize that she’s made you out to be an ass, don’t you? You can act high and mighty, Bridgerton, but the wife you so proudly boast has fashioned you into the biggest fool in all of London.”

It was at this jab that Penelope frowned, feeling her own prickle of anger. And for the first time in the nasty exchange, she turned directly to their shared foe, a hard, determined look set on her face. “Excuse me, Mr. Cavender, but I must ask that you don’t speak to my husband that way.”

She could almost see his eyes flash in fury as they set themselves on her. But before he could give the biting retort that was no doubt resting on his tongue-

“And I’d suggest that you consult a dictionary to properly understand the concept of fiction.” Colin’s tone was relaxed, just a sprinkle of mocking mixed into it. But Penelope could feel the tension in him, the protective edge that mirrored her own.

Cavender’s gaze shifted back to Colin, his rage appearing a bit more controlled as they listened to the snickering that surrounded them. Slowly, his mouth thinned into a tight line, and he took a step closer to the couple. By instinct, Colin angled himself in front of Penelope as her grip on his hand tightened.

He was just a few feet away from them when he finally spoke, a voice so low that it was barely audible over the murmurs. “And I’d recommend that you consider taking yourself and that bitch of a wife,” his eyes darted to Penelope for a moment, “out of town.”

And it was this comment that wiped the smile completely off of Colin’s face, along with any attempt of levity.

It was as if a chill had passed over, one that was both icy and burning at the same time. He stiffened like a board, a wave of unmistakable anger coming over him. And when his words came, they were low and even, colder than anyone had ever thought possible from Colin Bridgerton.

“You would do well to avoid threatening my family, Cavender.”

Though there was a slight tinge of red on his face, Phillip Cavender did not retreat. Instead, he took another step forward. “And why is that, Bridgerton?”

Penelope could see the muscles in Colin’s jaw moving from where she was angled, could practically feel the heat radiating off of his body. She’d seen him angry before, furious even, but this was different. This was so much more.

She wasn’t frightened, not by Colin nor by the man standing across from them. Fright was not why she wanted this to stop.

She didn’t want her husband’s anger to be made into a form of entertainment at a party. For him to have to serve the role of gallant protector whenever she upset someone. So, she attempted to silently will him to calm down, running a featherlight thumb across the surface of his hand.

But Colin wanted to finish what they’d started and instead let go of her and took his own step forward, almost shielding her completely.

“I think we all know that I have more than enough relatives to run you out of town,” he said, eyes locked on Cavender.

There was a flash of worry that crossed his face, but it was quickly forced away by a snort. “Is that meant to scare me? The threat of a duke and a viscount?”

Colin didn’t falter. Instead, his head tilted as he considered the man, considered the shaking fingers and the smell of alcohol on his breath. He’d never been a violent man by nature, even having grown up with two older brothers. He preferred words when he fought, and they almost always gave him his victories. He wasn’t opposed to physical repercussions, but he knew that a private gathering was not the place or time.

He looked Cavender directly in the eyes, speaking in a low, clear voice. “I will ensure that you are ruined, that is a promise.”

And because he couldn’t help himself, “And if that is not enough, be rest assured that we will do worse. My only qualm in doing it myself is that my brother would be disappointed he wasn’t able to help.”

There was a silence in the room that followed as Cavender glowered at him. His eyes darkened in fury as his face reddened, trying to figure out how far Colin could really go.

But there was something in Colin’s threat that didn’t allow for any consideration that he might have been exaggerating. Perhaps it was the definitive and resolute tone in his voice, or the strength behind his gaze, or the tight set of his jaw.

Or perhaps it was because Colin Bridgerton wasn’t the type to quicken to anger. Wasn’t the type to have a temper or even hint at unpleasantry.

Whatever it was, it made Cavender finally break eye contact and step back. He turned away, taking another large swig of port.

Colin could hear the pounding in his ears as he looked at the pathetic man, anger still coursing through him. But then he felt a warm hand lace through his, and the red glare of the world began melting away. Penelope was whispering something, her voice calm and soothing. He squeezed her hand in understanding but kept his gaze on Cavender.

There was a familiar casualness when Colin spoke this time, but it was threaded with venom. “Do not forget what I’ve said.”

And with that, he turned to his wife and pressed a kiss into her hair.

“Good night,” Penelope nodded to the remainder of the crowd, who finally had the decency to look away.

A few minutes later, when they were finally in a carriage returning to their home, Penelope sighed. With her eyes glued to her skirts, she whispered, “I’m so sorry, Colin.”

He looked at her thoughtfully, taking in a deep inhale of breath.

He’d been scared after the reveal of her identity, terrified even. There were evenings where he’d lie awake in bed and imagine all of the awful things that could happen to the person who was his entire world. And though they never spoke of such worries aloud, he knew that she was just as aware as he was.

Italy had been like taking a deep breath after being underwater for too long. There, no one cared or knew, and the only threat they faced was the harsh sun.

And then Penelope was pregnant, and a new light was added to his life, one that shifted his fears elsewhere.

Then they became a family of three, and Colin was thrilled. He still worried, of course, but his joy outweighed everything else.

Old wounds had been reopened in the recent weeks, that was for certain. But it did not mean that he blamed Penelope for them.

So, Colin pulled her into his side and tucked her head under his chin. “You have nothing to apologize for. We both agreed that you did the right thing.”

For a few moments, she said nothing, just listened to the sound of his heartbeat and the wheels on cobblestones. And though he couldn’t see her, Colin could sense in the silence that she was crying. Wordlessly, he handed her a handkerchief.

Penelope dabbed at her eyes a few times before leaning back to look at him. “I didn’t want to force you into this position.”

He smiled and lifted a hand to stroke her cheek, feeling the familiar warmth of her skin. “I watch you every day with nothing but awe, Penelope. I love you, I’m proud of you. And I will gladly stand by you through anything.”

Her eyes moved slowly as they crossed his face, searching for any hesitance. There was none, not even a hint of resistance.

Instead, there was so much love that it overwhelmed her, struck her with the same shock that it had years before. It was a love that mirrored her own, a fierce desire to protect and support another with as much reverence as one did for themself. It was one that never faltered even in the most difficult of times.

Her eyes were glossy when her hand reached up to meet his, and the smile on her lips was weak but true. “I love you so much. And I can’t believe that I’ve become so lucky in my life to have you by my side.”

And with that, they settled into their drive home, sharing whispered conversations and watery chuckles.

They still had a long road ahead of them, of that they were sure. But they knew that they would cross it together.

[essektheylyss]

How about a "wearing their lover’s clothes" one, though going out of intent here: mayhaps Essek wearing something of Caleb's because Essek's wardrobe is a little oh-so-conspicious? 👀

this turned into a bit of Fjord friendship but I could not imagine you would mind lol.

This bedroom of the building Fjord has rented for them all to lay low for a while is smaller even than the one he had occupied at the outpost, and a far cry from the cool, dim room of his own now-empty home, but the ocean breeze that meanders lazily through the open balcony doors makes the summer’s heat almost bearable, and the linen curtains that it catches on shade the room from the harshest of the morning sun.

“You should change,” comes the whisper at his back, as he peers through the curtain into the narrow side street below, as bare arms snake around his waist, and he leans back into Caleb’s chest, humming softly and letting his eyes close for a moment.

“Into what? I have nothing here besides what I had with me in Aeor, and none of it is suited for the Menagerie Coast.” He has already shed his fur-lined cloak and mantle, and Caleb fumbles with the clasp of his outer robe, leaving him only in his base layer, and he is reminded again of how different the Coast is from where he has just left, where even one layer of wool is too warm.

“Jester is already planning a shopping trip, but you cannot wear this.” He tugs at the thick sweater that Essek still has not shed. He has abandoned a lot today, and he is not excited to lay himself wholly bare here, a final rejection of everything he has just left.

While he retains the clothing he wore before their hasty and unannounced teleport out of the outpost, he can pretend like maybe if he cast a spell, he could return, that things would be the way they were, even though he knows it’s not true.

Caleb’s arms wrap tighter around him, and he shivers as lips press into his hair. He has to wonder how a part of him can even consider that the way things were was preferable to this.

He pulls the sweater over his head and drops it with the other lined, heavy clothes he has shed. “And what do you propose I wear instead?” he asks, crossing his arms over his now bare chest and turning to face Caleb, who raises an eyebrow.

“Well, I thought you may want to borrow something of mine.”

Essek slouches just a bit to stare up at him, emphasizing the sizable height difference between them. “I don’t think your clothes will fit.”

“My shirts will be a bit large, but they’ll be fine.”

“I can’t exactly forgo trousers.”

“No, I suppose not.” Caleb grins wickedly, and Essek momentarily considers kissing him to wipe the smirk off his face. “I bet I know someone who could alter a pair of pants, though.” He pulls a copper wire from his pocket and speaks into it. “Fjord, we could use some assistance, if you have sewing supplies somewhere in your tool kit easily accessible.”

Essek blinks. “Fjord?”

“Of course.” Caleb lets go of him and turns to the bed to rummage through his things, unceremoniously dumped there an hour earlier by Fjord himself as he had distributed the contents of their recently-retrieved bag of holding. “He says he’ll be right up.” He holds up some well-worn brown trousers, and offers them to Essek. “How about these?”

“Anything is fine.”

Caleb grins again at his resigned voice as a knock echoes on the door, and Fjord pokes his head inside. He raises an eyebrow as his eyes find Essek, taking a seat on a chest at the end of the bed, and Caleb, still sorting through clothing, both shirtless. “Can I help you? Tell me you have a favor to ask that will get me out of this shopping trip.”

Essek barks a laugh. “It is quite optimistic of you to think your girlfriend will allow that.”

“Essek has nothing to wear, so I thought I’d lend him something of mine, but he is of course, ah—“

“Short,” Essek offers, deadpan, and Fjord laughs this time.

“Well, you’ll have to put the pants on for me to fit them, but yes, I can make that happen.”

He sits on the edge of the bed and unfolds a small leather-wrapped sewing kit, setting pins on the nightstand as Essek awkwardly shuffles to Caleb, where he is at least somewhat out of Fjord’s view as he changes. The pants that Caleb offered are at least six inches too long, and a bit large in the waist, but admittedly less ill-fitted than he’d expected.

Fjord beckons him over and pins the hem, and Essek stands perfectly still for several minutes in silence. He is familiar with getting fitted for clothing, but he is not particularly comfortable when it’s a friend doing the fitting.

“This is the quick and dirty method, and you are, somehow, not nearly as disproportionately skinny as your boyfriend, so I’m not going to bother much with the waist,” he says. Essek flushes further at that, and Caleb coughs behind him. “It will be a bit of a shit job, but it’ll work well enough for an afternoon. If you are attached to this pair of pants for whatever reason, I can do it properly tomorrow, but Jester threatened to start baking if she does not get out of this building within an hour, and then the entire day will be lost.”

“Is there anything here to bake with?”

“Yeza and Veth already returned with their groceries, so I imagine she will go knocking for some flour soon enough.” Fjord pulls back. “Okay, you can take them off now.”

Glad of the warmth, Essek flushes and strips the pinned trousers carefully to avoid getting stabbed. He puts his own pants back on in the meantime, even with as hot as they are, and Fjord gets to work.

“Where did you learn to sew?” he asks, taking a seat on the bed and helping Caleb organize the pile there, keeping an eye on Fjord’s deft stitching.

“Fjord was a sailor,” Caleb pipes up, but Fjord shakes his head, barely glancing up.

“It was certainly a useful skill on a ship, kept me in the good graces of whatever crew I happened to be a part of, but I learned to sew at the orphanage. Otherwise I wasn’t going to have much in the way of clothes, as fast as I grew as a child.”

“Orphanage?” Essek blinks. “I don’t think I knew that.”

“No, I don’t believe you did.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not something I speak of often. It’s not far from here, actually.” He speaks around a few pins in his mouth easily. “Caleb, these are very worn out. They’re going to need a patch on the knee soon enough.”

“Ah, yes, they are… they’re the first pair I stole after I escaped.”

Fjord raises an eye at the pair of them, landing on Essek, who fidgets again.

Caleb changes the subject by tossing a thin linen shirt to Essek. It buttons halfway down, without much in the way of a collar, and he pulls it over his head. Already it’s an improvement over the wool he has abandoned on the floor, and he stands to collect it and fold it and tuck it away in the chest, where he wonders if he will need it again. Already it feels like a shoddy disguise, a costume he put on trying to be someone.

Wearing Caleb’s clothes, it doesn’t feel like he has quite settled into someone else, but it’s a step closer to someone he wants to be, without all the constraints of the life he has shed.

What little he carries by way of possessions put away in the small closet, which Essek imagines they will later magick to accommodate a bit more space, Caleb settles beside him on the bed and fixes one button that has not been pulled all the way through.

“You look good in my clothes,” he comments softly, and Fjord makes a derisive retching sound in his throat without looking up.

“If you want my assistance, please wait until I have finished and left, thank you. I’ve third wheeled Beau and Yasha too many damn times—“

“Alright,” Caleb says, laughing. The heat of this city in midsummer is stupefying, and the shift in weather—in life, really—has been quite a lot for just one day. Essek rests his head in Caleb’s lap, fingers threading through his hair, and exhales.

“How long do you think that’ll take?” he asks, his voice already thick with sleep, and Fjord glances at him.

“Maybe another half an hour,” he says, and if he wants to make another teasing comment, he hides it well.

“Okay,” he yawns. He weaves his hands around Caleb’s shin, and lets his eyes close. They have time, of course. He can rest for a few minutes while Fjord completes this sewing, while Caleb combs through his hair, while the breeze from outside pulls the fear from him with every new breath. “Wake me then.”

[wolfs-hunt1]

Wolf Kisses 1

Pairing: Stucky x Shapeshifter reader

Summary: Steve and Bucky are out in a mission when they find a lone giant wolf that had been hurt (I can’t do summaries, this sucks I have no idea what to write here)

Word count: 2063

Warnings: mentions of blood, Steve and Bucky are in an established relationship already

A/N: Just a small series, I’m not sure how big it’s going to get or where exactly I want to take this, but I hope to figure it out this week while writing the next chapter, but hopefully, I’ll keep to the schedule and post the next one next week.

Tag list is OPEN

— — — — —

Despite the warmth of the tactical suit, the cold was still nipping at Steve’s extremities. Bucky was huddled up on a blanket, vibranium arm outside so as not to risk touching the freezing appendage to his skin at all.

The small cottage they were holed up in did nothing to stop the howling wind outside, the snowstorm making them have to call off the jet and stay at the safe house for more time than they had planned.

They had just returned from the mission when the snowstorm hit, almost cutting communications with the rest of the team before they could let them know they would be staying until the storm blew over.

The cottage only had a small bedroom with a queen-sized bed and a dresser pushed to the side, and an even smaller bathroom, that connected to the bedroom and living room. One of the walls of the living room was a pantry and the other, pushed a bit in, was a small kitchen. There was a small wood burner and a beaten-up couch on the otherwise baren room. It was a comfortable living space for one person, but for the two super-soldiers, it was a tight fit.

Steve was spacing out, looking outside the window for the whisps of snow rushing on the wind, a warm mug of hot chocolate between his hands. He only nodded once when Bucky told him he was going to bed and kissed the top of his head, ruffling his messy hair before leaving the room.

A loud crash on the outside made Steve jump to his feet in a second, Bucky rushing from the bedroom a few seconds later.

“What was that?” he whispered to the blond, trying to take a look out the window but seeing nothing more than the falling snow.

“It seems to have come from the shed.” Steve moves to the door, picking up his shield in the process, and slowly opened the door, snow blowing inside the small space until Bucky closed the door behind him on his way out. There was a fading trail of fresh blood on the cristal white snow, leading to the shed on the back of the house, making the two super soldiers get ready for a possible ambush.

The trail was getting thicker, despite the falling snow trying to cover it up, and of a sudden, there was another crash, followed by whimpering howls. This made them both rush inside the small shed, logs for the fire were strewn across the place, having fallen from their previous neet pile, a mass of fur with dark red streaks across it was lying on the floor.

The small space was flooded with light once Bucky reached for the overhead bulb, allowing them to see what had happened. A greyish wolf, bigger than normal, was squirming on the floor, a hunters trap on his back leg, ripping the flesh apart with every movement the creature made. It started to growl at them once they tried to approach it, but despite the halfhearted snaps of its maws, the wolf didn’t make an attempt to push them away.

Steve was cooing gently at it, and whispering they weren’t there to hurt it, while bucky approached the serrated trap, and after making sure the wolf was distracted by Steve and not looking his way he put his fingers around it and pulled, opening the rusty thing up while the wolf pulled his leg closer to his body from the pain, loud whimpers and cries blending in with the wind blowing outside.

“We have to clean up that wound or it will only get infected.” Bucky says, while Steve crouches down and gently picks up the wolf, bringing it to the couch inside. Bucky rushes to the pantry, picking up the medkit and some spare sheets they can use so as not to stain the couch with the warm blood rushing out from the wound.

Bucky lays down the sheet so that Steve can put the wold on top of it, it’s body bigger than the couch itself. They open the packaged of gauze and the bottle of antiseptic so they could disinfect the wound properly. The silver fur of the wolf was tacky and clumped at some places, like it had been running through the woods and not sidestepping any obstacles.

The gaping wound is deep, almost ripping the entire muscles until it reached the bone, it would need sticking, and urgent medical care. The best they could do was stitch the bigger gaps and wrap it up so that they could take it to a vet once they were out of the cabin.

Once the wound is properly taken care of, and wrapped in gauze, they try to give some water to the wolf and feed it tiny bits of beef they found in the freezer laced with pain meds. They both go to bed late that night, but they wanted to make sure the wolf was in the least pain possible.

They are both dead asleep, Steve’s arm slung over Bucky’s chest, and their legs entwine when they wake up with a start. A heavyweight being dropped on them both and fur smothering their noses. The wolf, a female they had found out, was laying on top of their chests, snout trying to go under the blankets for more warmth. A small whine came from her when she couldn’t get inside the blanket enough.

Steve started to chuckle at the sight of the big wolf behaving like a child and tried to pry the blanket so that the wolf could get in the bed with them. “You need to get off if you want…” and just as if the wolf could understand them she climbed off from them and waited patiently on the side of the bed for Steve to open up the blanked and she could snuggle to Bucky’s side. Bucky smiled and buried his face on the soft fur of her neck, hugging her closer to his chest.

Bucky was getting cold. Which was odd because he distinctly remembered falling asleep between soft fur and the furnace that was Steve. He could still feel Steve at his back, but the warm fur he remembered raking his fingers over was gone. He opened his eyes to see the empty space in front of him. The sheets were stained with blood and that made his heart run faster, taking off the covers and speeding to the living room.

She was there, on the floor, chewing a piece of beef, bandages bloodied and coming off. He let out a breath and reach forward, petting her behind her ears. She let out a little throaty sound and went back to heating the raw meet.

“Gonna have to change that…” he sais pointing at her leg. “Don’t’ bite my hand off, I only have one left and would like to keep it that way.” he jests chuckling and the wolf lets out some puffs of air, almost like laughter. He looks at her for a while. It wasn’t the first time she had acted weird, but he had never really been so long with a wolf to know what was standard behavior or not.

He grabs the medkit from the couch and started to work on her leg while she ate, at least her mouth was busy, and that could prove less chance of bites on his behalf. Steve wakes up not long after, kisses Bucky, and moves to start on coffee for both of them. The storm was still raging on outside, so they would have to wait longer before the jet could pick them up to return home.

Not that Bucky minded. He and Steve hadn’t had alone vacations in a while, and this could be their alone time. Well… alone plus a wolf.

Once the coffee was made Steve and Bucky sat cuddling on the couch and just talking when they notice the wolf limping to the front door and scratching on the wood, letting out a gruffed bark and looking at them pointedly.

“I think she wants to be let out Steve.” Steve sighs and disentangles his body from Bucky’s, walking to the door and opening it just enough to let her slink out, but not enough to let the snowflakes in, before he closes it back up. She stays out for about twenty minutes before they hear a muted scratching sound.

Only the next day does the storm starts to show signs of stopping, and so they arrange for a jet to come to pick them up, and also tell Tony that they’ll be taking an injured wolf back with them.

They spend their last day just randomly making out on the couch or in bed, reminiscing of the days they were reckless teenagers and did the same. She didn’t come to sleep with them that night, staying in the living room looking sadly out one of the windows.

—

Back at the compound, the wolf is rushed to the med bay where they start working right away with reconstructing the tissue of her leg. Steve and Bucky have debriefing all afternoon so when dinner arrives they are more than starving. They help Wanda and Nat set up the table for the team and help her unbox all the food that had just been delivered. They were all too tired to cook, so take out was their best bet.

When the elevator dinged and Tony stepped out, everyone took a moment to look.

“Look who I found trying to chew through the door.” he starts walking to the table when he noticed the wolf isn’t moving from the interior of the elevator. “Well, c'mon Fang we won’t bite.”

“Fang?” Bucky asks, a scowl on his face.

“Well, he needs a name.”

“First, it’s her, and second, Fang is a terrible name.” Bucky crouches and looks at her, metal hand outstretched in her direction “C'mon girl.” at that incentive she slowly takes a step from the elevator, and after a few more she starts running to him. Littering his face in kisses when she’s close enough. Once Bucky straightens though, it’s only a matter of seconds until a flurry of fur is rushing to the other side of the living room and gluing herself to the glass overlooking the city. “Look’s like someone is smitten with the overview.” he jest before joining the rest at the table so they could have dinner.

“What did the vet said about her leg?” Steve asks Tony while he plates some salad.

“Well, thanks to our medical equipment she’s basically all healed up. They just want to keep her for a couple more tests and to make sure she’s all healed up and she’s ready to return home.”

“Oh.” Bucky deflates, looking at the wolf excitedly wagging her tail while looking outside. He wouldn’t exactly admit it, but the time they were together in the cabin during the storm felt comfortable like he hadn’t felt in a while. Despite being friends with the others, their friendships were always a bit strained in the beginning, he wasn’t at ease. But with her, he felt like he usually felt when with Steve, peaceful and calm. But he understood they couldn’t keep her. She wasn’t a pet, she was a wild wolf and probably had a pack to return to.

“Tests?” Wanda questions, ignoring Bucky’s downwards spiraling thoughts.

“Well, her size is unusual, she’s double the size a wolf should be, and she did behave weirdly with the med team, almost like she understood them all, so she must have some higher intelligence we want to test for.”

He stays quiet all throughout dinner after that, and once he finished helping Sam do the dishes he goes to sit in the lounge sofa to cuddle up with Steve that was playing with the fluff ball currently at his feet. She jumps on the couch and makes a display of laying fully stretch on top of them both making them laugh and rub her belly and behind her ears.

They leave her in the living room of their shared apartment when they call it a night. But they wake up just enough to feel her paw at the cover to snuggle up in the middle of the two, falling asleep with them after a while.

Part 2 

[eatprayworm]

rongzhi fic: the red sea of your rage

Relationships: Ding Rong/Wang Zhi

Rating: T

Words: 3.9k

Additional Tags: Whump, references to violence, wang zhi gets hurt and ding rong acts as you would expect, aka he loses his shit

Summary: Canon divergent fic that asks what if Wan Tong did set the brothel on fire? Title and end quote taken from “A Strand of Hair” by José Tolentino Mendonça.

There’s so much straw.

It’s all Ding Rong can think as two guards work on distributing more straw along the perimeter of the brothel. The heat of the sun beats upon them as they add another row, a field of gold. Sweat beads along Ding Rong’s brow. Meanwhile, all is quiet inside.

How long has it been since the thieves first showed-off Wang Zhi on the balcony? Minutes? Hours? Time slips through his fingers like sand. Every failed attempt to negotiate deepens the cracks; he buys Wang Zhi time but he can’t buy him salvation, and soon, he fears, they will have neither.

Darkness swallows the sky.

They’re running out of time.

Tang Fan’s appearance is grating, and he feels himself scowl behind Tang Fan’s back. Ding Rong has stood here for hours, has thrown his body in front of a dozen archers, but it’s Tang Fan, the poisoned scholar, who can freely walk inside. He bites his tongue, reminds himself that the goal is to save Wang Zhi; if Tang Fan can do what Ding Rong cannot, then that is the way it will have to be.

The night grows chillier. There’s still no sound from inside.

And then Wan Tong is lighting the torch.

Ding Rong sucks in a breath, stares at the dancing flames and smug look on the Commander’s face as he prowls forward.

“Wan-daren, don’t!”

Another failed attempt. His words fall uselessly to the ground, trampled beneath the feet of a callous man who wants to watch the world burn.

Commander Wan doesn’t say a word when he lowers the torch to the bundle of straw just outside the brothel doors. The straw catches flame easily, burning slow but steady. That’s fine, Ding Rong thinks; this gives Wang Zhi time to see the smoke and make it outside before the whole place is up in flames. But then Commander Wan is walking, all but dragging the lit torch against the wall of straw, and suddenly the fire’s crackling, growing, wheezing heavy smoke through the door and windows.

There’s a scream inside, followed by guttural yelling - and then all Ding Rong can hear is the roar of the flames, which devour the straw and then turn their destruction to the brothel itself. Ding Rong has no attachment to the brothel, but Wang Zhi does; he’ll hate to see the destruction when he comes out.

(Because it’s when, not if.)

“Seize the kidnappers! Shoot them if you must!” Wan Tong yells. “Don’t let them escape.”

Ding Rong’s jaw tics. He wants to warn the archers against shooting the others (Wang Zhi), but the sight of the fire ties his tongue.

Smoke’s billowing out the open brothel door (how much of the inside has already been burned?) when the first group of people rush out. Courtesans, their bright clothing smudged with ash, covering their mouths and coughing. More and more, and then there’s Madam Cui at the end. She’s hacking hard, eyes squinting as she checks on her girls.

There’s no sign of Wang Zhi.

One kidnapper, two. Arrows pierce their sorry hides, sending them crumpling to the ground. Another roars out, wielding a sword dripping in fresh blood. He too is struck down, but all Ding Rong can think is that none of the women appear injured - whose blood has been shed?

Fists clench at his side, slick with sweat. It’s fine. Wang Zhi will appear any moment. Jia Kui is with him, after all.

Each second feels like a lifetime. The fire climbs the brothel, floor after floor catching alight, and Ding Rong knows that once it reaches the roof, it’s all but over. A flash of movement at the door sends his heart to his throat (Wang Zhi?) but it’s only Sui Zhou, carrying a limp bundle of Tang Fan in his arms. There’s blood dripping from Tang Fan’s lips, but as Sui Zhou carefully lowers Tang Fan to the ground, Ding Rong can’t detect any wound, nor does Sui Zhou make a move to stop any bleeding. And then their doctor swoops in, blocking Ding Rong’s view, and his heart goes cold.

Wang Zhi is -

There’s a crash inside the brothel, a beam succumbing to the flame, and Ding Rong propels himself forward without thought. He’s dimly aware of Commander Wan yelling at him, slightly cognizant of the kidnapper who nearly runs into Ding Rong in his hurry to get out, and then he disappears in the plumes of black smoke.

Tears flood his half-narrowed eyes as he lifts a sleeve to his face, trying to manage his breath as he looks around to the best of his ability. It’s hard to see, even as he ducks down and starts moving as quickly as he can. He nearly stumbles over something soft (a body, but not the one he’s looking for). Smoke and ash, luxury devoured to flame, bodies left to become dust with the building, and Ding Rong will sooner die than allow Wang Zhi to become one of them.

“Ding-daren!”

Voices of soldiers, Wang Zhi’s men, who have followed him in. Ding Rong doesn’t respond, trusts them to follow him in deeper and conduct their own search. They go the opposite way, a path which proves fruitful; they bellow not even a minute later.

“Ding-daren, we’ve found Jia Kui!”

Ding Rong’s heart leaps to his throat then sinks to his stomach in the span of seconds. Not Wang Zhi. He’s tempted to tell the men to leave him; Wang Zhi is the priority. But Jia Kui may be able to provide information on the situation - and he owes Ding Rong an explanation for how this happened. He can’t die yet; Ding Rong will not allow it.

“Get him and get out!” Ding Rong barks, though it ends in a coughing fit.

The footsteps fall back just as quickly as they arrived, and he is alone again.

He wants to scream, wants to call Wang Zhi’s name until his lungs give out, but he cannot risk inhaling more smoke than he already is, and so he only coughs, trudging forward further. There’s so many bodies.

He nearly misses him.

Ding Rong is debating climbing the stairs and calculating his survival odds when he hazards a glance to the left, and there, there - beside a burning beam, a familiar form in once-pale robes, curled up face-down.

He doesn’t remember the next few seconds. There’s smoldering debris in his way, blocking the body, and he rips it away with his hands, ignoring the smell of burned flesh as his heart pounds because Wang Zhi.  

Wang Zhi’s back is a mess of fiery robe, burnt skin, and crusted blood, and Ding Rong doesn’t even know if he’s alive, just knows he has to get him out. He lifts his Commander in his arms (Wang Zhi feels so much lighter), adrenaline soothing over his own burns as he steadies Wang Zhi and turns toward the door.

It’s growing harder to see, and not just because of the smoke. The world blurs, tears and dizziness, and Ding Rong nearly topples over at one point. But adrenaline keeps him upright, loyalty drives him to the entrance, until he bursts from the brothel and gulps for air like a drowning man.

*

It’s a blur from there on out. Later, Ding Rong will recall screaming for assistance as he desperately searches for a sign of life in his Commander. He will remember the force of relief when he finds Wang Zhi’s pulse, soft but undeniable, and the way his arms and legs shake when he gets them both in the carriage. He’ll remember touching Wang Zhi’s face with his burnt fingers, murmuring his name like a prayer, bidding him to wake up.

The depot. The rush of imperial doctors who cart Wang Zhi away, and the one who nearly hauls Ding Rong to his own recovery room to be treated. Ding Rong barely remembers this: the cleaning of his burns, the bandages wrapped around each hand. His mind replays a single fear, a plea of but what if I lose him for good this time, now that he’s out of my sight?

*

He ignores the doctor’s advice to rest, shrugs off the cups of water the depot servants offer him. The audacity of these men, thinking Ding Rong will rest when Wang Zhi is a few rooms down, in an unknown condition.

There’s other work to be done, of course. Reports to write. Interrogations to be had. But the administrative logistics that Ding Rong mastered over the years don’t feel so important now, the instinctive efficiency washed away by something frightening.

Frightening. Yes, Ding Rong thinks, the realization startling. He is afraid.

He pushes past the servants who implore him to wait, because waiting is the only thing he’s done this whole damn day and it’s yielded him nothing. He finds Wang Zhi’s room guarded, the trio’s faces stony and impassive, and Ding Rong nearly commands them to move aside.

It’s the urgent murmuring of the doctors that keeps him still.

You’ll only be in the way.

And so he clenches his jaw and paces, paces, paces.

*

Wang Zhi’s scream rattles the walls, and something in Ding Rong shatters.

*

It’s the middle of the night when the guards finally part, allowing the doctors to leave. Ding Rong is in front of them in the blink of an eye. One of the doctors exhales a heavy breath, the wrinkles near his eyes deepening. Ding Rong swallows hard and it feels like knives.

The doctors deliver facts with the kind of efficiency Ding Rong has lost. Each word hits him like a punch.

Resting. Minor stab wound to the shoulder, bruises to his face. Back burned; it will scar.

Ding Rong’s blood has started heating up when the doctor finishes, “He has a long road ahead of him.”

Ding Rong can read between the lines. Wang Zhi may need weeks, maybe months of recovery. And even then, he’ll never fully heal.

There’s another question Ding Rong wants to ask. Maybe the doctors can see it in his eyes, because one finally speaks up, “You may see him, but he’s heavily sedated and should stay that way for a while.”

His brow furrows a fraction; there’s something they aren’t telling him.

Again, the doctors are one step ahead of him. They look at Ding Rong with something close to pity.

“He woke up in the middle of treatment and thought he was still burning in the brothel.”

The world in front of him blurs, colors melding together as he struggles to stay on his feet.

Wang Zhi was panicking and Ding Rong wasn’t there for him.

He’s barely aware of thanking the doctors, who bow and take their leave, and he is once again alone.

He takes a deep breath, braces himself, and walks into the room.

There’s a low, desolate moan; it takes Ding Rong a second before he realizes it’s coming from his own throat.

Wang Zhi is lying on his side, facing away from Ding Rong - leaving Ding Rong with the perfect view of his bruised, bandaged back. Ding Rong draws closer, barely cognizant of his own actions; he dimly registers pain in his knees as he all but collapses at Wang Zhi’s side. Now that he’s closer, he can see the extent of the damage: the scratches, the already purpling bruises, the gnarled flesh that peeks out from the confines of the bandages’ edes. The sedative must be working, Ding Rong notes, because Wang Zhi’s breathing is steady and even as he sleeps.

The relief Ding Rong first felt when learning Wang Zhi was alive has dwindled, overshadowed by a burning, gnawing anger. As a habit, Ding Rong doesn’t humor the idea of regrets; living in the past impedes the efficiency of the present. But here, curled up beside the small, injured body of his Commander, Ding Rong permits himself remorse for this transgression. Such an utter abysmal failure in duty, such an unacceptable, avoidable cost. If he could transfer those injuries to his own body, he would do so without hesitation.

But such are the fantasies of the fortunate and the foolish. Ding Rong compartmentalizes the regret just as quickly as it initially sparked, a stone to drown himself with later when Wang Zhi is on the mend.

He refocuses on Wang Zhi, watches the rise and fall of his side as he sleeps, just to anchor himself, remind himself Wang Zhi is alive. He’d stay here all night if he could, keeping watch the way he could not before.

Mostly, he wishes he could touch him.

“Wang Zhi,” Ding Rong murmurs, calling his name like an apology, like a prayer, more emotion than syllable.

The Commander doesn’t stir. Ding Rong knew he wouldn’t, but still feels the sting of disappointment.

Ding Rong’s not sure how long he sits before he finally pulls himself to his feet. He brings his burned, bandaged hands together and bows, back bent in both contrition and purpose.

(He may have failed Wang Zhi at the brothel, but he won’t fail him now.)

Ding Rong straightens, and after a final long look, briskly takes his leave.

He has work to do.

*

The next morning, Ding Rong visits Jia Kui.

The man looks worse for the wear, sitting on a bed with his arm in a splint and breaths tinted with a wheeze. Ding Rong strides up to his bedside with no preamble, no pleasantries.

“What happened?” he barks.

Jia Kui gives Ding Rong a look, one that initially seems affronted by the clipped tone, but then quickly softens to something more complicated.

“Tang Fan was succeeding in de-escalating the situation. But once the fire lit and spread,” Jia Kui says, pausing to cough, “they attacked.”

Ding Rong’s jaw tightens as he sends a silent curse to Wan Tong. “Where were you?”

“In the shadows. Wang-daren directed me to stay hidden,” Jia Kui explains. “I did, until they attacked. Managed to kill two of them and get Wang-daren before they could hurt him. By then the room filled with smoke and the thieves were trying to kill as many as they could on their way out.”

“Surely you were not outclassed by a few rogue men,” Ding Rong says with a sneer.

Jia Kui’s laugh is gritty and hollow, followed by another cough.

“Have you ever fought in pure smoke, Ding-daren?” Jia Kui’s slight smile is unpleasant and humorless. “In a burning building, tripping over bodies, all while trying to protect someone?”

Ding Rong wants to snap, to scream that it doesn’t matter, he was supposed to protect Wang Zhi at all cost.  He shoves the irrationality down and reminds himself he’s here for information, not simply to vent his anger.

“So they attacked you,” Ding Rong continues, more a statement than a question.

Jia Kui nods, and he heaves a long, regretful breath. “Wang-daren and I were separated. I was knocked unconscious. Next thing I knew, I woke up here.”

Silence fills the space between them as Ding Rong digests this story. Wang Zhi was unharmed when Jia Kui rescued him, so any damages must have come when Wang Zhi was alone, disoriented in smoke.

Cowards, Ding Rong seethes. He clenches his hands, ignores the agonizing ache of his own injuries. Their deaths came far too swiftly.

Ding Rong turns without so much as a goodbye. He’s taken five steps forward when he hears Jia Kui say, “Ding-daren, there’s something else you should know.”

He pauses, sends a glance over his shoulder to the wounded guard. Jia Kui’s expression is born of shadows.

“One of them is still alive.”

*

The days go by. Ding Rong maintains order at the Western Depot, managing daily operations and fending off the presence of Shang Ming, whose questions about Wang Zhi’s conditions are far from innocent.

Every night after work, he visits Wang Zhi.

The doctors assure Ding Rong that Wang Zhi is doing as well as one could expect, given the severity of the injuries. They’ve been successful in staving off infection so far, which will be crucial for his healing going forward.

Sometimes Ding Rong recaps the day to Wang Zhi’s sleeping form, complaining about the nuisance of Shang Ming and commending the diligence of some of the workers. Other days, he sits beside him in silence, content just to be at his side.

Please wake up.

*

Days later, Wang Zhi does just that.

Ding Rong is sitting in a chair at his side, mind wandering, when he catches movement out of the corner of his eye. Wang Zhi’s face scrunches, his head lifting up as he stirs from his slumber. Ding Rong all but leaps forward, the chair tipping backward, forgotten, as he crouches at the bedside. His heart pounds, vision blurring - and when Wang Zhi opens his eyes and meets Ding Rong’s gaze, Ding Rong huffs a short, choppy breath in disbelief and hope.

“Du-gong?” he asks, soft and tentative in a way he would be ashamed of in any other circumstance.

Wang Zhi groans, runs his tongue along his dry, cracked lips.

“Rong’er,” Wang Zhi croaks, and something in Ding Rong that’s been dammed up bursts forward, flooding his entire being, body and soul.

Before he can drown in it, Wang Zhi’s expression shifts, as if he remembers where he is and what happened. Ding Rong aches to see fear replace confusion; he has never seen him look so small.

“You weren’t there,” Wang Zhi whispers, voice trembling.

Three little words, three little knives that go straight to Ding Rong’s heart. He isn’t sure which of them makes a mournful little sound as he shuffles closer, murmurs urgently, “I’m here now, Wang du-dong.”

Wang Zhi snuffles against the pillow, face softening, appeased. Ding Rong direly wishes to be struck down for ever instilling this fear in his Commander.

Ding Rong bows low, forehead touching the floor. He keeps his breathing steady as he confesses, “I failed you and deserve to die for it.”

From somewhere above him, Wang Zhi makes a displeased, tired sound. “No, you don’t.”

Ding Rong remains motionless, eyes shut tight. It’s not true, of course, and Ding Rong is halfway convinced Wang Zhi is simply saying this because he’s still under the effects of the sedatives. He won’t fight Wang Zhi about this, however - not with words, anyway. His body posture conveys the only rebuttal he needs.

A few seconds pass, and Wang Zhi exhales a breathy little sound. “C’mere. Ding Rong.”

Ding Rong rises to his knees and then to his feet, keeping his eyes downcast as he shuffles closer. He kneels again, this time at Wang Zhi’s side.

“Ding Rong,” Wang Zhi repeats, a note of surprise coloring his name. Ding Rong lifts his gaze to meet Wang Zhi’s wounded one, and it’s only then does he notice the tears dribbling down his cheeks. He’d feel embarrassed if he didn’t feel so raw.

Wang Zhi extends a hand until it’s dangling off the bedside, reaching for Ding Rong - who can only clasp that small hand in one of his own, careful to keep his grip loose enough not to hurt, but tight enough to channel everything he wants to say into it. Wang Zhi’s lips twitch in a smile for a brief second. I’m glad I can still see your smile.

The smile quickly fades, and Wang Zhi releases his hand. Ding Rong mourns its absence already.

“You’re hurt,” Wang Zhi says, sounding accusatory, annoyed that Ding Rong didn’t tell him sooner.

Ding Rong shakes his head, both in disagreement and disbelief that Wang Zhi could find these wounds comparable to what he’s sustained. He takes Wang Zhi’s hand, ignores the pain, and holds on tight.

“It’s nothing.”

Wang Zhi doesn’t seem to buy it, his gaze skeptical, but his need for comfort must outweigh the annoyance. He doesn’t let go of his hand this time.

“It all happened so fast,” Wang Zhi mumbles.

Ding Rong gently squeezes Wang Zhi’s hand. “You don’t have to talk about it, du-gong.”

Wang Zhi hums, a tired, dazed sound like he didn’t hear Ding Rong. “I don’t remember some of it. The smoke. Jia Kui grabbing me.”

“Jia Kui,” Ding Rong spits, allowing venom to seep in his tone so Wang Zhi can know just what he presently thinks of the guard.

There’s a flash of Wang Zhi’s smile again, though it appears sadder than before, worn at the edges.

“It wasn’t Jia Kui’s fault,” Wang Zhi murmurs, running his fingers against Ding Rong’s hand as if Ding Rong is the one in need of soothing and reassurance. “If it weren’t for him, I’d be dead.”

Ding Rong pauses at that, surprised at the leniency. Had this happened a few months ago, Wang Zhi would’ve had Jia Kui executed immediately. But, he supposes, Wang Zhi isn’t the same person he was a few months ago; maybe neither of them are.

“Sir,” he murmurs in acknowledgement of Wang Zhi’s decision.

Wang Zhi shuffles, trying to get more comfortable. He hisses, bares his teeth in pain from moving. Ding Rong is about to fetch the doctors to apply more medicine when Wang Zhi’s expression yet again drops, painted in hues of fear and apprehension, as if the memories hit him with physical force.

“I couldn’t see them when they snatched me from Jia Kui. They took me and I think they stabbed me and then I -”

Wang Zhi cuts off there, an unpleasant shiver racking down his spine, which makes him groan again. Ding Rong gently hushes him, trying to soothe him. “It’s alright, du-gong. It’s over now.”

Through the pain and anxiety, curiosity shines like a light in Wang Zhi’s eyes.

He opens the prison chamber room and shuts the door behind him. The thief is already tied up to the post, and he eyes Ding Rong warily as he approaches the side table. Ding Rong says nothing, doesn’t even look at the scum. He takes out a pouch, and unrolls the fabric to reveal knives and other jagged tools.

The sound of the thief’s sharp inhale makes Ding Rong smile in sadistic satisfaction.

The apprehension on Wang Zhi’s face lingers, like he doesn’t quite believe it. Ding Rong squeezes Wang Zhi’s hand, gentle and reassuring.

“You’re - you’re Ding-daren, right? Look, I already told your assistants what happened! My brother, the one who hurt Wang-daren - he’s dead! They’re all dead. I didn’t touch him, Ding-daren, I swear -”

Ding Rong holds up a knife, inspects the way the torch’s flame gleams in the silver.

Knife in hand, he turns to the thief in one slow, fluid motion.

“I took care of it,” Ding Rong says.

“I don’t care.”

Another tiny smile twists the corners of Wang Zhi’s lips, soft and dreamy. Ding Rong finds himself mirroring the expression.

(The screams echoed down the halls. It took hours for his assistants to clean up all the blood and flesh.)

Assured, Wang Zhi falls back asleep, still clutching Ding Rong’s hand.

Ding Rong lifts their joined hands, presses his lips to the back of Wang Zhi’s fingers.

Later, he will clean his knives and tools, one by one, and think of the fire.

You set fire to cities

you drowned armies

in the red sea of your rage

you mortgaged precious lands

to be at my side

[wrenhyperfixates]

The Gift

Pairing: Loki x reader Summary: Tony says no pets in the Tower, but since when has Loki ever listened to him? Warnings: like one curse word A/N: Any Tom Hiddleston stans out there should get the Easter egg in this one :)

Disclaimer: Picture not mine

“Oh, come on, Tony! Please,” you whined for the fifth time that week. “Not even just a little one?”

“Absolutely not. It’d make a mess of the place. Not to mention that this isn’t exactly the safest place for a pet.”

“So it gets into a lab accident and we have a super dog. Not the worst thing ever,” you said, half joking, though Tony actually seemed kind of intrigued now. You changed your tactic before he got any ideas. “Besides, it won’t make a mess. I’ll train it. And not all dogs shed.”

“I guess, but someone might be allergic,” Tony countered, thinking he delivered a winning argument.

“We can get a hypoallergenic dog,” you shot back, though you’d already checked with almost everyone and no one said they were.

Tony grumbled, running out of excuses to give as to why you couldn’t get the pet you’ve been pleading for the past few months. Tony had become somewhat of a father figure to you during your time in the Tower, and you’d been pretty sure you could use that to your advantage. Sadly, though, nothing had been working. In fact, that relationship had been more of a detriment to you than anything else as you didn’t want to make him upset with you. Otherwise, you might just go out and buy the pet of your choosing. Maybe even more than one. Although, to be fair, it was Tony’s building, and he was allowing you to live here rent free, so you should probably just drop it. But you really wanted a pet, and you knew you weren’t the only one.

“Sorry, but still no.”

“Fine,” you relented with an overdramatic sigh. “For now, anyway.”

“Thank you,” he said, going back to whatever he was tinkering with before you came in.

You pouted in the lab for a bit, hoping he might change his mind, but to no avail. Eventually you slinked out and went into one of the common rooms, plopping on the couch between Peter and Bucky.

“So, how’d it go?” Peter asked after popping a handful of Skittles into his mouth.

“No luck," you responded sourly, stealing some of the colorful candy from him. “None of my strategies are working.”

“What if we tried for something smaller?” Bucky offered. “Like a gerbil.”

“I guess,” you grumbled as you flopped back in exasperation. “But we’ve had our eye on that Cocker Spaniel for a while. A gerbil just wouldn’t be the same.”

“Yeah, I know.”

You all sat in silence for a bit and watched as Bugs Bunny and Daffy Duck argued about what hunting season it is, mulling over the situation. Admitting defeat seemed to be the most likely option at the moment, but you hated to just give up when you were sure there was a way to get what you wanted and not have Tony be upset with you.

“I’ve got it!” Peter suddenly shouted, bubbling with excitement. “We go and adopt it and then tell Mr. Stark that it just followed us home!”

“Except he wouldn’t let us keep it even then,” you stated, having already thought of that yourself.

“So we hide it. Simple,” Bucky chimed in. “By the time he notices, Peter will be so emotionally bonded to it, Tony wouldn’t dare take it away.”

“Great idea, Mr. Bucky,” Peter said, high-fiving him.

“Yeah, if only there weren’t cameras everywhere. Not to mention a home system that tells him everything,” you added, growing more upset at the lack of options by the minute.

You pushed up from the couch as the episode’s end was heralded by Porky Pig’s “Th-th-that’s all folks.” After waving bye to your friends, you headed to your room to brainstorm in silence. The figure lurking in the shadows didn’t even register in your mind, so you had no idea that a certain god heard your whole conversation. Not only that, he was about to fix all your problems.

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

“Mr. Loki, where are we going?” Peter inquired as he and Bucky were led into the city by the trickster god.

“All will be revealed, spiderling. I assure you.”

Bucky just shrugged when Peter looked at him, and so they continued following Loki through the busy New York streets. After hearing about your plight, he had hatched a plan to get you what you wanted. All it took was a bit of research on that infernal computer device, and he was pretty sure he’d found the right shelter. It was a far walk from the Tower, and since neither he nor his travel companions could drive, he resorted to taking the subway, an experience he’d rather not have again. Finally, they arrived at the destination, and Peter was about to burst with excitement.

“Mr. Loki!” he gasped. “This is exactly where we were looking for dogs!”

“But I have a feeling you knew that already,” Bucky said.

“Indeed,” Loki replied. “I must confess that I overheard your conversation in the common room yesterday.”

“Oh I get it now. You’re doing this for-”

“No time for speculation, we are here to get me a pet,” Loki interrupted, “Go on. After you, spiderling.”

Peter, still blissfully unaware of Loki’s true intentions, led the way into the shelter. They were greeted with the sound of happy barking and the distinct smell of dog treats. Loki had to admit, he wasn’t the biggest fan of animals. He found some to be more agreeable than others, such as a good steed, but overall he thought them to be more of a nuisance than anything else. Thor had bought a cat for Jane once, and it tore up half of his capes before he presented it to her. Loki was glad his brother kept it away from him and his belongings. Not to mention he didn’t appreciate the sheer number of similarities people said he had with felines. Dogs, however, he was fine with, so long as they were trained properly.

“Hello, how may I help...” the girl behind the front desk trailed off, her eyes going wide with excitement upon realizing who the trio was. “Y-you’re... Oh my gosh. My friends are never going to believe this! But, uh, how may I help you?”

None of the heroes were particularly comfortable with the attention and star struck gaze of the girl, so it took them a minute to get over their sheepishness. Loki looked at both his companions before realizing he would have to do the talking. He sighed but knew the look on your face would be worth it. You’d look at him the same way you had so many times before, whenever he did little things for you, whether it be rubbing your shoulders after a stressful day or brewing you a cup of tea on a chilly morning. The two of you weren’t dating, exactly, but you weren’t exactly not dating, either. Loki found himself incapable of asking you to make it official, lest it ruin what you currently had. He didn’t know what he’d do if you no longer casually held his hand or rested your head on his lap while reading in the evenings. Even though he was fairly certain you felt the same way, that last bit of doubt wouldn’t leave him alone. Besides, despite usually being quite a great thinker, he couldn’t come up with a good way to confess. He supposed that kissing you would do the trick, but he wasn’t brave enough for that, so getting you a dog would have to suffice for now.

“My friends here were looking at some of your dogs recently, and there is one that they are quite smitten with. We are here to adopt it.”

“That’s right! A Cocker Spaniel named Bobby,” Peter offered. “He hasn’t already been adopted, has he?”

“Nope!” the girl responded in a perky voice. “He’s all yours as soon as you fill out the proper paperwork.”

“Mr. Loki, are you sure about this. Mr. Stark told me I couldn’t get a dog.”

“Exactly. He told you, not me,” Loki replied, picking up a pen.

“Well, yeah, but I don’t really think he meant it just for me. I think it was more of a general kind of thing.” Loki and Bucky looked at him in exasperation for a second, wondering how he could still be so innocent, before he caught on. “Oh, ok. I get it now. Carry on.”

The three boys huddled around the page as Loki filled it out, providing Tony’s credit card as payment when the time came. It seemed appropriate, Loki thought, that Stark should have to pay for making you upset, and taking that in the most literal sense was the only somewhat acceptable way, it seemed. No longer could The God of Mischief go around stabbing those who hurt the ones he cared about. In a way, he missed the good old days, as he referred to them, but his new life led him to you, which made the rest of it fine with him, he decided, as he finished his signature with a flourish.

“There,” he declared, admiring the loop of his fancy, cursive L. “Finished.”

The girl disappeared into the back, only to return with Bobby a moment later. After giving the paperwork a quick once over, she handed the leash over to Bucky, who couldn’t stop the smile from growing on his face. Peter immediately bent down to scratch the dark brown dog behind his ears.

“Who’s a good boy? You are! You’re a good boy!” he cooed.

“Spiderling, he hasn’t even done anything yet,” Loki said, somewhat perplexed, as Bobby rolled over onto his back, stopping at the god’s feet. “Though, I do suppose he is a rather good boy,” he added, an inexplicable smile tugging at his lips.

One stop at the pet store and a taxi ride later, both unknowingly paid for by Tony, they arrived back at the Tower with the newest member of their family. It wasn’t even ten minutes later that Tony strolled into the room where they were playing with Bobby. He stopped dead in his tracks as he noticed the dog, happily playing tug of war with Bucky.

“What is that?” he asked, pointing at the Cocker Spaniel.

“A dog,” Loki deadpanned.

“Yeah, no shit. I mean what is it doing here?”

“I adopted it. Really Stark, for a supposed genius you ask a lot of obvious questions.”

“Don’t get snippy with me, Rock of Ages,” Tony quipped back, gritting his teeth a little. “This is my Tower and I say no pets, except for maybe a goldfish.”

“Yes, this is your Tower, but it is our home, is it not? As thus, we should be allowed the simple pleasures of life, such as having a pet. After all, studies show that having a dog can reduce stress, something I’d say is rather important for people in our position.”

Tony glared for a minute, not really having a good response to that. Then he called your name, certain you were behind this.

“No, Mr. Stark,” Peter said. “They had nothing to do with this. Don’t blame them.”

“That’s right,” Bucky also defended you. “It was all us.”

It was already too late, though, and you appeared in the doorway. Loki had been planning on presenting your gift to you in some cute or clever way, but all he had time to do was a magic up a bow on the pup’s head, a green one, of course. Bobby started happily yapping at your arrival and trotted over to you, looking for a scratch behind the ear.

“Oh. My. Gosh. He’s adorable!” you exclaimed as he rolled over for belly rubs. “You finally got a dog for me, Tony? Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

“Sorry, but I can’t take credit for this,” he said, turning down the hug you were offering him by putting a hand up. Then he pointed at the mischievous trio whose doing it was.

“Well actually, it was mainly Loki,” Bucky said, nudging the god in the ribs.

“But Mr. Bucky, we all- Oh wait. Awwww,” Peter gushed as he realized what Loki was feeling.

“Oh. In that case, thank you Loki!” you shouted, throwing your arms around him in a hug.

Without a second’s hesitation, he wrapped his arms around you, too, returning the embrace. “You are quite welcome, my darling.”

You nuzzled into the spot where his shoulder met his neck. In turn, he put his head on your own and breathed in your scent, forgetting the others in the room for a minute. It seemed you had, too, because you looked equally startled when Tony cleared his throat.

“Ok, fine. He can stay,” Tony conceded, “but only if he doesn’t wreck the place. And keep him out of the lab.”

You all chorused your thanks and, despite his harsh tone, could tell that Tony had already taken to Bobby, who was now the center of attention again. After playing with him for a bit, Bucky made some excuse about having to leave and took Peter with him, both of them wanting to give you some alone time with Loki.

“This really is very sweet, Loki,” you told him after a few minutes.

“Think nothing of it. It is my gift to you.”

“I feel bad, though. I don’t have anything for you,” you said, biting your lip. “Well, actually, I do have one thing that I can give you.”

“Oh? What would that be, my darling?”

The end of his sentence was nearly cut off by your lips crashing into his. The kiss was a little sloppy, but filled with so much love and desire that neither one of you cared. After gathering his wits, Loki kissed you back, cupping your cheeks as you grabbed his shoulders, still a little unsteady from surging forward.

“That,” you breathlessly whispered, pulling away as Bobby began barking again.

Later that night, Tony found you and Loki passed out on the couch, Bobby sprawled out across both your laps.

“Huh,” he mumbled, draping a blanket over your shoulders. “I guess it’s a good thing they got that dog, after all.”

[nerdyfangirl67]

Rare Jewel - NCIS Reader Insert

Pairing: Gibbs x plus-size reader

Warning: language

Word count: 1673

Requested by: @soggy-enchilada​

“Can I please request a Gibbs x plus size reader? Maybe they have to go undercover to a gala or smth together and the reader walks out in this figure hugging dress feeling and looking FLY AS FUCK and Gibbs is like hot damn. You get where I’m going?”

A/N: Alright, trustno1 is the reader’s chat URL, just for clarification (its a nod at something, send me an ask if you can figure it out! ;) ). I made up the gala name for this fic, at least to my knowledge, too. I sincerely hope this is what you were looking for @soggy-enchilada​. I haven’t ever written a plus-size reader POV, and I truly hope this is what you wanted. I loved this idea BTW!!  Anyways, here it is!

You had been staring at Gibbs, who unaware, had been conversing with Director Vance in the hallway of the upper level of the NCIS offices for the last fifteen minutes. The conversation wasn’t what had caught your attention. Rather it was the tall, silver-haired fox of a man that you had been watching. And this intense staring hadn’t gone unnoticed by your team members, or at least by DiNozzo.

He creeps up to your desk the first chance he has, an all-knowing “I know what you’re doing” falling from his lips. You, of course, vehemently deny anything, a little too quickly with an “I don’t know what you are talking about DiNozzo.” This causes him to let out a bark of a laugh. “Sure you don’t sweetcheeks. And I bet that Director Vance will love to know that you’ve been staring at him for the last fifteen minutes. In fact, why don’t I go tell him for you now.” He turns from your desk, heading towards the steps to the second floor.

You let out a frustrated hiss, which momentarily drew the attention of McGee. “DiNozzo, get back here.” He laughs loudly, grabbing McGee’s attention once more, as he turns and saunters back to your desk. “You’ve got it bad. And good ole Jethro doesn’t even know.” Despite your current situation, you had to let out a small laugh at his use of Gibbs’ first name. You know he would never call Gibbs that to his face.

Gibbs was still completely in the dark about the way you felt about him, which wasn’t like him. Gibbs, usually, was rather intuitive, yet despite the many obvious tells you had revealed in the past two years, some accidentally and some on purpose, he still thought you felt no more for him than a coworker.

“At least I know what I want.” You say in response, giving his a teasing reminder that he still hadn’t found ‘the one’, or at least focused on one woman in a long time. He waves a hand at you as if to distract you from the topic. “Okay, yeah. But at least I’m not drooling over our boss.” You make a face in response. “You’re wrong.” It’s the best you can come up with, and you know DiNozzo is going make fun of you for it.

“You’re wrong? Is that all you’ve got? You’re worse than Probie. At least he can come up with comebacks better than that.” He responds in jest, opening his mouth to say more but a voice stops him.

“DiNozzo, knock that shit off and get back to work.” Gibbs’ voice is as cold and unyielding as steel as he makes his way back to the bullpen. His voice startles you, making you hope he didn’t hear any of what the two of you were talking about. DiNozzo made a face at you as he backs away from your desk.

“The Military Officers Hall of Fame and Awards Gala is this Friday night and Director Vance has agreed on an undercover operation. Y/L/N and I will be attending as a couple, while DiNozzo will be going as a member of the waitstaff and McGee will be running interference in one of the surveillance vans.” He says, his voice leaving no room for argument. You nodded, nervousness already consuming you at the thought of having to find a dress that fits you comfortably. DiNozzo surprisingly doesn’t say anything except a quick “Alright” and McGee answers with a number of questions regarding the statistics of the undercover mission, which Gibbs gruffly answers with as little syllables as possible.

A ding sounding from your desktop computer, grabbing your attention. A notification blinks on your chat app, letting you know you have a new message. You open the app and see it’s from DiNozzo. You roll your eyes dramatically, knowing he is watching you from his desk before opening it.

DiNozzotheGFather68: ooooh, a whole night pretending to be a couple with Gibbs? 😉😉

trustno1: go find yourself a tray DiNozzo! i know you are gonna have to practice to make it believable

DiNozzotheGFather68: oh, bite me! no, actually, why don’t you go bite Gibbs 😉😏😗

trustno1: eww DiNozzo, stop being gross

You shut the chat app after that, not ready to deal with another round of DiNozzo’s relentless teasing. You decide to try and get some of the paperwork finished from the ever-growing stack on your desk to distract you from the growing anxiety filling your chest.  

---- The rest of the day passes uneventfully and soon, you are leaving to go home, dreading the fact that you will have to scrounge through your closet to find something that would be dressy enough for the gala. You highly doubt that you’ll find a dress, which means you’ll have to go shopping, which is something else that you dread.

The ride home is short, shorter than you would have liked today, and before you know it, you are changed into your lounging clothes and staring at your closet, your favorite snack in hand, paired with a much-needed glass of your favorite drink. Opening your closet doors, you heave out a sigh at the task ahead of you. You could already see two potential dresses but you knew that when you pull them off the rack, you’ll change your mind.

After downing your drink, you pull out the first one off and immediately throw it onto your bed. That one would be one of the last ones you would wear. You would sooner go in your rattiest pajamas, in front of Gibbs, than wear that one. The second one wasn’t much better in your opinion but you tried it on anyway, not really wanting to go dress shopping tomorrow. This dress was a black mermaid style dress, with a large taffeta bottom and lace sleeves. The tag was still on it and you couldn’t even recall where you had gotten it from in the first place.

Upon first glance you feel rather confident in the dress, but the more you stare at your reflection, all you can see are the flaws in the dress. It was a bit tight across the chest and the mermaid style made it almost impossible to move, not to mention that you had no spot to put your standard issue handgun. It didn’t take you long to shed the dress and turn to the second one, a deep red velvet bodycon style dress with spaghetti straps and a flare along the bottom.

You reluctantly pull it off the hanger, and wiggle into it. Dread settles on your shoulders as you turn to look in the body length mirror. That dread quickly flies from your shoulders though, replaced with a feeling of astonishment and surprise. Not only did the dress fit, you hadn’t thought it would since it had been sitting in your closet for months, but it fit well. It hugged your thick curves and made your chest, and your butt as well, look far more pronounced, which you liked.

“Damn”, you murmur as you continue to look at your reflection. “I look like a badass bitch in this dress.” You were starting to feel excited about the prospect of spending the evening being Gibbs’ date, especially now that you looked so good.

----

Two days later, and you find yourself getting ready for the prestigious gala. You had your hair up in a fancy updo, the loose tendrils hanging around your face were casually curled. You had on your favorite diamond pendant and were wearing your sexiest black heels. You had just finished touching up your makeup when you saw the time.

“Shit.” You exclaim, grabbing your gun and shoving it into your thigh holster, which you barely managed to cover with the edge of your dress, and your shiny, almost maroon colored, clutch. You quickly, or as quickly as you can dressed as you are, get into your crappy little car and floored it to the event’s location. The engine sputters a few times in protest at the speed along the way, but you make it to the large establishment only five minutes later than when you were supposed to be.

You enter the nearly empty lobby, scanning it for the tall, muscled figure of Gibbs. You don’t see him and decide, after sucking in a deep, fortifying breath, you pull open the ballroom doors. His eyes found yours immediately, widening at the sight of you. You maintain eye contact with him as you make your way through the crowded room, past dancing couples and stately individuals.

When you reach him, he lets out a slow uncharacteristic whistle. He smiles at you, offering you a hand. You take it and he suavely spins you before pulling you close. “You, agent Y/L/N, look beautiful. Absolutely breathtaking.” He places a hand on your lower back, leading you to the dance floor. A slow, classic number starts just as the two of you reach the dance floor. He pulls you into an embrace, moving you into a slow two-step.

You rest your head on his shoulder, caught up in the act of pretending to be a couple with Gibbs. I like him, a lot. “Who?” Gibbs' voice startled you out of your daydreaming. “Hmm?”

“You said you like him? Who?” You quickly realize upon hearing his words that you had said those four words out loud.

“Him, you.” You say before you even know what you’re saying. “I like you. A lot.” He slowly breaks out in a smile. “Took you long enough.” He says simply.

“Wait what?” You ask quietly. “You knew?”

“I’ve known for a while. I just wanted to hear you say it.” He said, brushing a tendril of your hair away from your face. “And I like you too.”

Your heart thumps widely in your chest. All you could think about was what life would be like if the man holding you was yours . What a truly wonderful life it would be and you felt that you were finally on the way to this life.

[mnictasbcl]

2:42 am

For #dbhcolorsofdeviancy, prompt:

June 1st:  Watching a human sleep. @connor-sent-by-cyberlife

Rating: Teen

Characters: Connor, Hank Anderson, Sumo, Amanda

Relationships: Connor & Hank Anderson

Additional Tags: Fluff, then, Angst, Nightmares, Hurt, Panic attack, sort of, Swearing

Summary: Connor comes back home with Hank after the Revolution. His first night after everything that happened, including the mind control by Amanda, would be fine, right?

Alternatively: Connor finds himself in Hank’s room at 2:42 in the morning.

Story below! Or, read it on AO3

The sun was setting on the day the revolution had succeeded. Rays of light glinted off the rusted metal truck that was Chicken Feed, as Hank and Connor, human and android, embraced. In that moment, none of their differences had mattered, not the disagreements from before, nor the variations in their biology. The hug was warm and loving, metal encased in artificial skin just as squishy, just as human.

They couldn’t stay there forever, of course. Chicken Feed wasn’t even currently open to serve food, and the day was drawing on. In silent agreement, the two stepped back before making their way over to the car.

The door shut. The hula girl on the dashboard bobbed back and forth, back and forth.

“You got someplace to stay, Connor?”

“No, Lieutenant.”

“Hank.”

Connor raised a brow, blue LED swirling in thought, before coming to realisation that Hank wanted him to call him that.

“Of course, Lieutenant.”

“Little shit.” The man breathed, slotting keys into the ignition of the car, no real heat behind his tone. “I was going to offer for you to stay at my place. But maybe with that snark, you don’t want to come back and meet Sumo again—”

“I wouldn’t wish to intrude, but… I think it would be beneficial to have a safe place to stay.” He fiddled with his tie, head twitching briefly to the side. Wearing a suit after being in the more comfortable deviant clothes definitely wasn’t pleasant. He’d much rather shed the tie and jacket for the beanie and baggy clothes, but he was still on the fence about such matters.

“You just want to pet the damn dog again.”

Connor couldn’t help it, he snorted. When Hank glanced over, he covered it up with clearing his throat. If he’d still been a machine, maybe he would have retaliated something about probabilities or how he could not ‘want’ anything. Instead, he pulled off the tie and remarked,

“I like dogs.”

 ___________________

 It wasn’t a lie at all. As they arrived home—back at Hank’s home, of course—Connor couldn’t help but feel eager to see the Saint Bernard again. His fingers itched, somewhat remembering the silky feel of the dog’s fur under his fingertips from their brief encounter that one night.

And it seemed Sumo was just as eager to meet the android again, because, as the two walked through the house, as soon as the dog saw Connor, he let out a deep bark, paws padding along the floor. He smiled and leant down to pet him.

Hank cleared his throat dramatically, after a few minutes of belly rubs and ear scratches.

“Sumo? Hello to your master?”

The dog whined and nuzzled his head closer into Connor’s touch.

“Traitor dog.”

Sumo barked in response, tail wagging, sweeping on the floor and almost tripping Hank up as he attempted to step around the pair.

“Jesus Christ.”

Connor glanced up. “No, it’s me, Connor.”

“I changed my mind, get out of my house.”

The android looked up swiftly, processing, almost taking it seriously as his cue to leave before detecting sarcasm. He chuckled, making no effort to get up until he’d deemed enough attention given to the canine. Okay, nevermind, there was never enough attention to give to Sumo, but he had to stop at some point.

As he got up, he looked up the time briefly. 8.54pm. It was getting fairly late into the evening, but he knew Hank hadn’t eaten at Chicken Feed.

“Would you like me to cook you a meal, Lieu- Hank?”

The main raised a brow at him in question.

“I haven’t observed you eating yet, and it is not healthy to skip meals—”

“I’ll order some takeout.” Hank waved a hand in dismissal.

Connor narrowed his eyes. It was something he could recall feeling distantly before he deviated, whenever he saw Hank eating something incredibly unhealthy, such as that time with the burger. The levels of lipids and—it was annoyance, he realised. No, was it? The android tilted his head to the side in thought. He wasn’t sure if he could pin the correct emotion on it, being new to deviancy, but he definitely felt as if he should stop the man from ordering out.

“I insist.”

“Yeah? Well, I insist.”

“But I can cook—”

“It’s been a long day. Hell, you’ve been busy today fighting in an android revolution. I think I can order a burger.”

Connor couldn’t help but shake his head.

“No burger? Fine, pizza time it is.”

Exasperation. That was what it was, he decided, watching in defeat as the man took a leaflet out from the kitchen draw and mumbled the number of the pizza place under his breath. But maybe the man was right. He wasn’t sure if this was what humans called tiredness, but the revolution had certainly taken a toll on his systems. And maybe it was okay for Hank to indulge in less optimal food choices once in a while. His diet would certainly grow to be healthier in the future if Connor had a choice in it.

 ___________________

 The pizza arrived, Connor snuck Sumo a small piece of it, got scolded by Hank for being a hypocrite- all in all, it was an eventful evening. Definitely not the sort of thing machine Connor would have imagined himself doing. But something the real Connor surely did, and he loved every moment of it. Apart from the scolding, of course.

It was drawing on 9.29pm, an unusual time to be finishing a full meal, when Hank switched off the TV, stretching. They’d whiled away the time watching the news after the revolution, seeing the androids celebrating in the streets. Connor felt tired looking at them. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to be with them- on the contrary, but the day had indeed been exhausting enough. Perhaps he would attend the parties he knew Jericho might throw in the coming weeks, once all the politics and such things had settled down.

Pointing Sumo to his bed, Hank got up from the couch, stretching. “I’m gonna call it a day. You—” he paused, glancing to Connor, expression shifting as he seemed deep in thought about something. “You can, uh, stay on the couch and… rest? I don’t know what you do. But you can, you know, do it on the couch.” He cringed at his choice of wording.

“Thank you, Hank. Androids don’t rest, but I can go into a mode of stasis in order to recharge and perform system updates—”

“Sounds like sleeping to me.”

Connor pursed his lips, looking displeased. “In a crude manner of speaking… yes. The couch will be fine, thank you.”

Hank nodded. “Great. Well, have a nice stasis. Don’t let the… android bed bugs bite.”

As he walked out the room, Connor blinked, thinking over the statement. “Bed bugs…” He murmured, LED circling yellow. “But this is a couch.”

He shrugged off the quandary eventually, storing it in his mind for later to think over, before adjusting his seating position on the couch. It would be easier to lay down, in case he startled the Lieutenant, finding him sleeping sitting up. Of course, androids used to stand up in stations built around the city to go into stasis, but that was before. It was funny to think of it like that, when before was simply yesterday and all the time before the success of the revolution.

Connor pushed aside the cushions before laying down on the couch, eyes flicking shut. He took a few breaths, which were usually unnecessary but helped to calm his systems and it was in a few moments that he fell into stasis.

 But strangely, sometimes, stasis could produce images in his mind. He was a detective model, perhaps it was a way of thinking of possibilities and probabilities of things happening in the world. One would assume, then, that these images would be realistic.

Tonight, however, something seemed fantastical about them. His inner eyes snapped open, and he was in a swirling snowstorm. His arms clutched around his middle, sensors picking up the frigid temperatures. It wasn’t dissimilar to the scene he’d experienced earlier that day in his Zen Garden, when he’d been standing up on that stage, Markus giving his speech, and Amanda had pulled him out of reality.

But there were changes. The way out… Kamski’s secret way out of this control over his systems… it wasn’t there. The paths were all different, winding and winding on, not leading to the stone platform where he could place his hand and resume control over his own body. He followed the winding paths, Amanda’s voice whispering in his ears, feeling as if he’d never reach anywhere, not in time.

You’ve failed, Connor.

The paths stopped. He could see the trellis in the distance, roses snaking up it, choking it, further and further into the sky. Suddenly, he could see the glint of the escape he was meant to reach, somewhere up there in the heavens.

Connor picked up his pace, pulling his hands away from his sides, ignoring the ice creeping over his fingers, and grasped at the trellis. Pulling himself up, he managed to find a foothold.

Cyberlife always planned for you to become compromised.

He grit his teeth as the thorns dug into his hands but ignored the flares of pain and the red warnings flashing in his vision. He had to get to the top. Had to get away, had to…

We just had to wait for the right moment to resume control of your program…

Somewhere in his mind, as if he could see what his body was doing, out of his control, an image flashed. Connor wasn’t on the couch anymore; he wasn’t in Hank’s house. No… it couldn’t be… had he never hugged Hank outside Chicken Feed? Had the revolution never ended?

He was up on that stage again. Markus was speaking, and Amanda was twisting his limbs to her will.

Don’t have any regrets. You did what you were designed to do.

The escape was too far away. His hands slipped, the snow making the trellis slick with moisture, and he lost his footing. The escape was getting further and further out of reach, and there was nothing he could do, except fall down and down and—

You accomplished your mission.

 Connor awoke with a start.

He shot up off the couch as if it had wounded him, breaths stuttering in and out. Sumo looked up at him from where he sat in his bed, whining and looking at the android with concern in his honey brown eyes.

“I’m…” Connor breathed, hand hovering over his LED. It was flashing a jarring red. “I’m…”

He didn’t understand. Out of all the times he’d experienced those sorts of images during stasis, he’d never had any like that… never had any that left his thirium pump beating heavily in his chest, his hands trembling, never…

Cautiously, he made his way back onto the couch, perching on the edge of it. Hands resting on his knees, willing his LED to circle back to yellow, then back to blue—

This trepidation, this fear, was this what came with being human?

Connor closed his eyes. Saw Amanda, saw the gun in his hands, saw the trellis with its blood red roses. Opened his eyes.

He brought his arms around himself, in a sort of self-soothing. It wasn’t real. It was okay. It was just imaging. Just his overzealous detective software figuring out what could happen- no, what could have happened. The revolution had happened. And they’d won. He hadn’t shot Markus, he’d reached the escape and he was free. Finally free. If he went into his Zen Garden now, the roses would be withered and dead, but the waters still and calm, no sign of Amanda anywhere.

Knowing the truth and hard facts made him feel a little more tethered to reality. Lines of yellow cut through the red of his LED. Maybe none of it was true. But… why wasn’t he completely back to normal? He glanced to his jittering hands, and then to the Hank’s bedroom door.

Right. Hank. For some reason, that thought that had lodged itself in his mind during the dream—whatever it was. The thought that none of it had ever happened, that Hank had never brought him into his home, and it had come to stay.

He groaned. He was in the man’s house right now, sitting on his couch and staring at his dog. It didn’t make any sense.

Then again, not a lot of being human had made sense to him that evening. All he wanted in that moment was to dispel the rumours his mind was conjuring, and the solution appeared to be behind that bedroom door.

With a sigh, he got back off the couch, glancing around the room briefly before quietly making his way to Hank’s bedroom door. He raised his hand to knock, before changing his mind. It was 2:42am, not an optimal time to wake the man. So instead, he pushed open the door silently, having learned the last time he’d been in this room where to push it to so that it didn’t creak.

One glance over the room told him it was dark. Well, no shit, Connor, his inner voice muttered, sounding a lot like Hank. Blinking, eyes adjusting to the change, he managed to make out the shape of Hank sleeping on his bed, one leg hanging off the edge, face half pressed against the pillow, cheek squished.

He nodded. Hank was there, he was alive, and he’d certainly let Connor into his house, so therefore none of the bad stuff in his… nightmare… was true. He could just leave and go back into stasis on the couch.

Except, he found he didn’t want to leave the room. Feet planted stubbornly on the floor, carrying out their own form of deviancy to his logical thinking. He sighed. He then caught sight of a chair in the corner of the room.

Connor shrugged. Sitting down in the chair, he found it wasn’t too uncomfortable. In fact, he found sitting up like this a better and more familiar position than lying down on the couch had been. And from this viewpoint, he could see Hank wherever he looked, chest rising and falling. The minutes ticked on. The android found a sense of peace in watching Hank sleep, LED going yellow, yellow, yellow, before finally back to ocean blue. Hank was safe. Hank was sleeping, just like he’d said he was going to earlier. This was the reality. He was in control of his own body, and he would do as he pleased with it, which meant in this moment, watching Hank sleep.

Maybe being human didn’t make much sense to him, but in that moment… it was pleasant.

Eventually, with serenity falling back over him and his mind focused on rest, it wasn’t long before he slipped back into a dreamless stasis.

 ___________________

 Hank awoke later that morning, the sun shining through the blinds, to find his bedroom door wide open, Sumo laying over his legs, and Connor sitting on the chair across from his bed, eyes fallen shut.

“Fuckin’ android.” He mumbled, affectionately.

[kurlyfrasier]

Terrified: Part 4

Raph x Reader

Synopsis: Raph saves you from ruffians one night in an alley after watching out for you for weeks without you knowing. Which leads you to getting to know the guys and becoming part of the family. But Raph keeps a distance and you don’t understand why. 

Word Count: 1708

Warnings: None

I woke up later than intended- much later, as in waking in the afternoon later- red-eyed and weary from the tears shed the night before. I had decided, once I had calmed down enough to think beyond losing the boys- most especially Raph- that tonight would be my last movie night. At least, for a while. I also planned on telling them they need not walk me home after work. Granted, I had no idea how I planned on convincing them that they weren’t needed. 

Maybe I could tell them I’m moving? Getting a new job?

I sighed, looking into the mirror. If tonight was going to be my last night seeing Ra- them, then I would make the most of it. I decided I would look my best, without looking desperate...hopefully. Sadly, this meant I did not get to start my new book since l only had about an hour until Mikey would be here to pick me up. Yet another reason to stop burdening the boys. Regretting the fact that I wouldn’t get to wear pajamas like I usually do on movie nights, I trudged to my closet.

A little over an hour later Mikey found me in the middle of brushing just a tad bit of make-up on; to cover up my red-rimmed eyes. 

“Whoa angelcakes,” he drawled once I stepped out of the bathroom, eyeing my long, fitted sweater dress- because it gets cold in the lair- and warm leggings with comfortable Chuck Taylors. 

See? Not desperate. Comfy.

“Raph is gonna lov-” He stopped himself short when I gave him a quizzical look. “I mean, you look hot, dudette. Got any plans tonight?” he wiggled, what one would call, his eyebrows, erupting a giggle out of me. 

“Only to hang out with my besties, that’s all,” I shrugged, grabbing my phone, hoping he wouldn’t comment about my not-so-usual outfit once we got to the lair. I really did not want it made more obvious than it already is.

“Sounds like the best plan, but are you sure you don’t wanna bring pj’s for after?”

“I’m sure, Mikey,” I smiled reassuringly up at him as he plucked me up out of the window and onto the roof. “These are just as comfortable as pajamas, promise.”

“Okay then, let’s go,” he helped me onto his shell. “Can’t wait to beat you in a new racing game I got,” he hopped from roof to roof, holding me tight. I couldn’t help but compare his smaller, bulky size to Raph. I don’t think I would have been able to hold on to his shell quite as well.

“You’re on, man. But don’t come crying to me when you lose.”

He barked out a laugh and we stayed silent until we got to the man-hole cover.

“Hey, angelcakes,” Mikey started sheepishly when we got to the bottom of the ladder, scratching the back of his neck. “I wanted to ask…”

“Yeah?” I gave him an encouraging smile.

“Did somethin’ spook you last night?” He blurted out.

“No,” I furrowed my brows, confused about where this is coming from. Unless…

“Raph said you were running for your life after you got off the subway. I just wanted to make sure everything is okay.”

“Oh,” I tried thinking of an excuse, averting my gaze. “I just didn’t want to be a burden, is all.”

Not a complete lie.

“A burden?” He looked shocked as I turned toward their home and started walking that way, hoping to hide my despondency. “You’re not a burden, angelcakes! Besides, before that night in the alley, Raph was already-”

I stopped in my tracks as Mikey sauntered ahead.

“I mean, we like making sure you're okay. We don’t want a repeat of that night we first met,” he continued rambling, but I wasn’t listening. I wanted to know what he was gonna say about Raph. After a few steps he realized I wasn’t next to him anymore. “Come on, Y/n. Don’t want ya to get lost.”

I nodded, unwilling to ask my question as we continued our trek to the lair. I took a deep, calming breath to brace myself before entering the living room area where I knew Splinter, the wonderful father that he is, would be prepping for homemade pizza. Donnie had made an old brick oven not long ago and built it directly underneath a grate above that they only opened when baking pizza so the smoke would have an escape. I found it ingenious because now they could have pizza whenever they wanted. Which was always. A small smile formed at the thought.

Not five steps in and Raph blocked my path, arms crossed as he assessed me for injuries. I stared straight into his chest, unable to meet his all-seeing gaze. He would know something was wrong the moment we made eye contact, he always did.

“Bro, she’s fiiiine,” Mikey sang, lightly punching Raph’s shoulder as he walked by. “I would never let anything happen to her. She is my precious sister, after all.”

Raph ignored him, grunting in approval with a curt nod before walking away. Allowing me to breathe again, not realizing I had held my breath in the first place.

~~~~~~~~~~

Raph was anxious to see you. He had been attempting to work it off all day, to no avail. Everytime he closed his eyes he saw you, standing in front of him, looking small, keeping your thoughts to yourself. 

He growled in frustration, clenching his hands into fists. If only he knew what had you so utterly shattered last night.

He needed to see you.

He needed to know you were safe.

Raph breathed out a sigh of relief when he heard you and Mikey coming, but stopped short when he saw what you were wearing. Vaguely, he wondered where you had come from to be looking so good. That red sweater stuck to your form as if it was painted on. It may have covered almost every inch of skin from your thighs up, but it hardly left room for the imagination. Thos leggings did the same.

Where were your baggy pj’s?

Robotically, he blocked your path to determine if you had been hurt. Really though, it was all a ruse. He just wanted to have a good look at you. He crossed his arms over his chest to keep himself from holding you close. The fact that you wouldn’t meet his gaze had his blood running cold. You always at least gave him a tentative glance and a smile. Next to him, Mikey said something about you being his precious sister, but all he could think was that you were his precious everything. He didn’t even feel his brother’s light punch as he walked by.

He grunted as if saying “that’ll do” and walked away, wishing he knew what was wrong. Wishing he could make it all better.

“I’m gonna go help Donnie with something before we play, okay Mikey?” You spoke barely above a whisper before heading to Donnie’s lab. 

The moment you were out of sight he rounded on Mikey. “So wha’ didya find out?” he growled in in his face.

“Nothin’, bro!” Mikey held his hands up in surrender, backing away. “She said something like not wanting to be a burden. I don’t know. She was kinda quiet though. I barely got her to smile.”

“But nothin’ ‘bout wha’ scared her?” he asked low, peeking around to make sure you hadn’t decided to come back.

“Nadda. Just said she didn’t wanna be a burden. I told her she’s not. That we like takin’ her home, but,” he paused when he noticed Raph shaking, stiff as a board. “Uh-oh…”

Raph stomped away toward Donnie’s lab, barely able to comprehend what Mikey was telling him. 

You? A burden?

Never.

He planned on shaking you to your senses until he heard what you were saying to Donnie.

“...gonna take some self-defense classes so you guys don’t have to walk me home anymore. What do you think?”

Raph leaned against the wall, going to a whole new level of low with eavesdropping. He decided it was worth it if he could figure out what was wrong.

“We could teach you,” Donnie offered offhandedly. “Besides, we like taking you home. We can actually have a conversation as we protect you.”

“Nah, you guys are busy as it is,” you paused. “Plus, I don’t want to bother you guys even more.”

“What are you talking about, Y/n?” Something clattered, a sign that you have Donnie’s full attention. “You’re no bother. Did something happen?”

“No, nothing happened,” you sighed before continuing quietly. “I just- I might be getting another job-”

“You’re a terrible liar, you know that, right?” Donnie chuckled in an attempt to lighten the mood. “Is this about last night? I heard you were running from something.”

“Ugh! I wanted to get home faster! That’s all,” you fumed, stomping a foot, demanding why the boys kept asking you about last night.

“We’re worried, Y/n,” Donnie stated calmly. “You spend a lot of time with us. That could make you a target. Especially if anyone figures out how much you mean to Ra- uh… us.”

“Fine,” you seethed. “I’ll stop hanging out with you guys, then. That way nobody will have to worry about my safety.”

Donnie’s call for you fell on deaf ears as Raph snuck into the darkened room across from the lab, your steps echoed down the hall. He sunk low in the shadows and held his head close to his knees, eyes shut tight in a sad attempt to keep the tears from flowing freely. He couldn’t breathe. His heart felt as though it were being shattered into a million pieces.

You were leaving? The thought ricocheted through his brain.

What had happened to bring this about? Everything was fine until last night.

Maybe someone got to you already? The thought had his blood boiling. Allowed him to breathe. He had a purpose; to find out what happened in the ten minutes you were on the subway. He was determined to keep you close. Keep you safe. No matter the cost. Even if he had to lock you in his room.

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

Part 5

[mlb-au]

The Things We Lost

This is my attempt at writing an angst MLB au where Marinette is too overwhelmed at everything she has lost to Lila and loses control. This story does contain suicidal thoughts, strong language, and suicide so be warned.

If asked a few months ago about what the young girl was like, people would talk about how sweet and caring she is. She works hard, puts others first, and is a bit clumsy but is so loving and helpful. They might also say how expressive and optimistic the girl is, like she’s a ball of sunshine. Cut back to the present and none of these words would be used to described the baker’s daughter. Marinette knew that Lila could be trouble. She was telling so many lies, each one getting bigger and more threatening, how could she not be concerned. She had hoped that after everything Lila had done that people would stop believing her. They did not. Instead all blame was placed onto the dark haired girl. Thief. Cheater. Liar. Jealous bitch. Bully. These words and more were thrown at the girl until she felt like they coated her body like a second skin. Even when she was adorned in her red and black suit, she still felt the presence of these comments. It was a miracle that she hadn’t slipped up and allowed Hawkmoth to akumatize her yet.

Her friends, classmates, teachers, and even parents were against her. Her only comfort was the kwamis. Each night they would comfort their guardian in hopes of doing something for the girl. Each night she cried herself to sleep. Each night she hoped that tomorrow would be a better day. It seemed like her wishes never came true. She went through the day like a zombie. She walked into class and went into her seat in the back. People’s eyes putting holes into her body as they whispered about her. Freak. Stalker. Crazy. Jerk. She stare blankly at the front as class went on. If she was lucky, she could go home without being stopped. However most days she wasn’t.

Lila would corner her. Her smirk and eyes were like daggers into Marinette’s soul. She would bark and laugh about how she was good on her promise to rid Marinette of all her friends. Somedays she left it at that. Other days she would hit her or push her. Of course no one noticed her bruises. They even failed to notice the scars forming on her arms, just hidden by her jacket. Marinette stood on her rooftop balcony. She was in her pajamas, and the wind stung her freshly made cuts. She glanced down wondering what it would be like to jump. Tikki and the other kwamis gently nudged the girl back inside. She couldn’t leave them.

Even her partner noticed the difference in her behavior and tried to ask her about it. He expected something simple and easy to fix. He never would have expected what she said next. “I’m looking for a new Ladybug.” “What, why?” Ladybug stared out onto Paris. “I can’t do this anymore. If I continue to be Ladybug, then Hawkmoth will win. I’ll continue to be the guardian, but Paris needs a new Ladybug.” He looks sad but then turns it into a smile. “So does that mean I can find out who you are?” Marinette didn’t even have the energy to yell at him. “I’ll let you know when I find one.” She stood and swung off, leaving him to wonder what he did wrong. Marinette detransformed and couldn’t quite understand why she was crying.

She eyed everyone in the city closely. She needed to sink into the background, and the sooner she did that the better. She did discover someone. A girl her age who went to a different school. She had some friends, did a school club, and most of all was kind and selfless. She waited for a few more days, watching in the shadows, before approaching the girl. Her name was Raven, a nod to her parents dark black hair. Marinette came to her as Mutlimouse. (Only Chat knew that Marinette was Mutlimouse, and it wouldn’t matter once she was gone.) The girl was shocked, but trusted the hero’s judgement. She helped trained and coached the girl, and it was time for the world to have a new, permanent, hero. Mutlimouse and the new Rubybug met with Chat Noir. Chat Noir didn’t even give Marinette a second look.

Over the week she carefully watched the two worked together. It was a bit of a shake up at first, but Rubybug was able to save the day and gain the love of Paris’s citizens. At the end of the week, Marinette said her last goodbyes to Tikki and that was that. However, Tikki had one last parting gift. Hidden in Marinette’s sewing box was a small book. Tikki had wrote out so many messages, all comforting her chosen one. For the first night in a while, the tears she shed were happy. One thing was clear though, she needed to escape more of her life.

Marinette carefully worked. She found a place hidden in plain sight. It was fair enough from her old life yet close enough to be reached in case a different miraculous holder was needed. Not to mention that it wouldn’t be searched or questioned. She moved as much stuff over to the new location as she could without raising suspicion. Then she waited for the day. The day when she would no longer be around. Everyone at school made sure to mention the date. Lila had been working on her final scheme: to get Adrien to be her’s. They would have a date and talk while going to André’s ice cream stand. They would get ice creams that matched each other and would kiss. That was Lila’s plan.

Marinette stood on a newby building, as Scarlet Vixen, and waited. Sure enough Adrien and Lila came around the corner. The rest of the class waited and watched. Alya was recording the whole thing in a livestream. Scarlet Vixen waited for the right time. Lila had just gotten her ice cream, and it matched Adrien. Now it was time to get his. “Strawberry for her blush, blackberry for her hair,” Adrien couldn’t help but get a sense of dread in his stomach. Something bad was about to happen. He glanced around and noticed Marinette standing on the railing. As André said “blue bell stare”, Marinette’s eyes turned to him. She had tries rolling down her eyes, and before Adrien could process it she jumped. Alya had turned her phone to record the girl moments before she jumped, so the whole livestream saw it. The class around her stared at where the girl once stood. She never did resurface from the water.

*

*

*

It was a week after the incident and Lila had a sick feeling of pride. She had done this all before. Take over the school, have everyone love and fawn over her, and destroyed anyone who opposed her. However she never had someone so distraught to have killed themselves, but it’s whatever. She can use this to her advantage. Claim that the girl had really wanted attention so badly she was willing to jump for it. Maybe state that the incident has made herself distraught and needs people to love and support her. But things were different than what she had planned.

First was Marinette’s parents. The night of the incident, Sabine was calling for Marinette to come down and banging on her trap door. Earlier that day she and Tom had yelled at the girl for hurting Lila again, and the girl ran up to her room to hide. Now Sabine was going to yell at her daughter for her grades. It got to a point where she had Tom take off the trap door. The bedroom was a mess. Things were thrown around and out of place. The mom was gonna yell at her daughter for having a  temper tantrum when she spotted the blood. A small box cutter laid on the ground, with fresh blood still on it. As Tom looked around, he found a note on their daughter’s bed.

“Dear Mom and Dad,

I know that I am an awful daughter and don’t deserve you. I am sorry for causing trouble and for making me mad. I know you can never forgive me. I won’t come back, so I hope you will live a happier life.

- Marinette”

It was thirty minutes later when they were informed that their daughter had jumped into the river never to be seen again. The parents were in shock, and they had the bakery shut down for the rest of the week. They could only walk around their house, staring over to the opening where the trap door to the pink room once was. They hadn’t expected their only child to just be gone.

Next came Alya. She was at first in denial. There was no way that Marinette would do that. Bully and hurt Lila? Sure. Steal important test papers to cheat? Of course. Throwing herself into a river was not on the list of things that girl could do. It took her several minutes after seeing the incident to realize that she was still recording. The next day she woke up thinking everything was a bad dream. Or even some sick kind of joke that the brat pulled in hopes of gaining attention. However, when she checked her phone to see several messages concerning the content on her blog, she realized it was real.

Next was her general classmates. They didn’t want to believe what they saw at first, but what else was there to do? They couldn’t have done anything to stop it.

However the person who was effected most was Adrien. He had reluctantly agreed to go on the date with Lila, as pushed by Nino and everyone else in the class. He expected his ice cream to be like what he had ordered the first time, to represent his love of Ladybug. However André said said something different. Strawberry for her blush. He had never seen Ladybug blush before, it was never in her nature. The only girl with blue bell eyes and dark hair was... Marinette. The last time he saw her was when she jumped into the river with tears in her eyes. He didn’t know what to think. Why would she jump? She was always so happy. “Not when she was getting harassed and bullied.” Plagg supplied with a scoff. “So much for take the highroad.”

As the week of the incident progressed, the world seemed to stop. However once the week was up the world unpaused, but only to show the darkness of the situation. The bakery was permanently closed when Tom and Sabine were charged for Marinette’s suicide and providing an unsafe home for a child. Alya’s blog was shut down for recording a suicide. The students kept staring at where the girl used to sit, feelings of guilt leaking in. Adrien could barely function, and Gabriel had to rework his schedule to try to get Adrien under control. Adrien was even effected as Chat Noir. While Rubybug was sweet, quirky, and hardworking, he couldn’t help but miss the old Ladybug. The one who, while she would be serious most of the time, was always looking out for him. Rubybug had to save Chat Noir several times during attacks since he began to get distracted so easily.

Lila had expected things to be easier for her. She tried to do some sob stories about how much the death was impacting her but it backed fired. Not because they didn’t believe her, but because the school was now being forced to give more counseling and care when it comes to bullying. Lila was put into therapy and had her lies backfire on her when concerned classmates filled in their teacher on the awful things Marinette said and done to the girl. Not to mention all those other things. Her mom and the school had a several hour long discussion before the truth was exposed.

The school year continued on. The class was two students down for the count. One was simply transferred out and the other was gone forever. Sometimes the students would forget that Marinette was gone. Alya had gotten to talk to the new Rubybug and was about to call Marinette to talk before remembering that she was gone. The members of Kitty Section were discussing new costumes before remembering that their old designer couldn’t help anymore. Her parents still felt like they could hear their daughter’s voice coming from the bedroom. Adrien sat on top of rooftops at night staring at the lucky charm Marinette had made him. Their everyday ladybug. Gone without a trace and never to be seen again.

Of course, she was still around. Hidden away in the shadows of Paris. The miracle box and kwamis as her sole companions. Waiting for when her new bug would come by to seek out help. She saw the world fall before her and watched. Her soul had died long before. It didn’t matter to her how any of those people felt. After all, she had lost more. She had lost her family, friends, dreams, hopes, and her partner in one go. Why should they care about her now that she’s gone. It’s not like they lost everything. No. They only lost one stupid girl. She didn’t matter to them before she was gone, why did they care now that she was gone. Ah, such is the way of life.

[xxisxxisxxis]

Gateway Drug | Part Eighty-Five [PT. 2]

Part Eighty-Five [PT. 1]

VIVIAN

"Who the fuck does he think he is?!" I bark, and Duff waits patiently for me to calm down. "I put blood, sweat, and tears, into this marriage and he just files for divorce a day after he dies?!" I've been on a tangent for nearly twenty minutes now. 

"Well...you were gonna file anyway, right?" He asks when I turn my back to him and I stop, closing my eyes. 

"...You were gonna file, right?" 

I hesitate and he sighs out. 

"I'm gonna go." He says next, grabbing his jacket. 

"What? No, Duff--"

"--You clearly have a lot to think about, Viv, alright? And it's good, you need to just fucking stop and think for a little bit because you clearly haven't been--neither of us have been thinking--so you just take a few days and think about stuff and--"

"--I don't need to think about anything, Duff, I didn't mean it like that." 

"Well, how'd you mean it, Viv? If you weren't gonna file for divorce and get out of the relationship, and then get mad when he does, that tells me that you want to be with him. And I understand that and I'm not mad about it, I just don't want you dragging me along while trying to decide whether you really wanna leave him or not." 

"I'm not dragging you along."

"I'm giving you time to think about what you want, alright? Call me when you're ready to talk." He turns to go but I grab his hand.

"Will you just stop and listen to me?" I ask him calmly, wrapping my arms around his waist. 

"Vivian." He weakly lets out. 

"I love you," I tell him. 

"I'm not saying you don't love me, I just think you aren't 'in-love' with me and that's where we're getting fucked sideways and that's why I just need to go and let you sort this out." 

He says. 

"I have it sorted out." I argue. 

"Viv, we both know…." He won't finish. 

"No, we don't." I state, my fingertips grazing under his shirt, running against his lower back. "Please just stay." I beg him and he exhales. "Please?" I stand on my toes, my lips brushing against his. 

He lets out a defeated sigh and leans down, our lips meeting, his hands in my hair before we start pulling each other's clothes off. 

Sex = The problem is solved.

A few hours later, he's passed out, snoring softly and I get up, looking at him over my shoulder, grabbing the sheet from Steven's bed, who was gone to see Axl and Tansy since they got back from New York.

The day of Nikki's homecoming, Tansy and Axl filed for a marriage license, when they were told Tansy was already married to Chester Straught, who we knew as, "Sparkie." Tansy didn't even know she was married (because she was blacked out when it happened) but they told her she'd have to go back to New York and have it annulled. 

As you can imagine, Axl had a fit at the fact Tansy had been married since 1984. 

So it wasn't just Nikki who had a solid chance at meeting their maker on December 22, 1987.

I pull the sheet over me before heading to the living room and picking the envelope of papers Nikki gave to me, looking them over. 

He's leaving me everything except the dog and his personal savings account. 

I don't want any of it, though, if he's not going to be there with me. 

He's been with me since I was seventeen years old, nearly seven years, and he expects me to just go on without him. 

He might as well have died if this is how things are going to end between us. 

Tears well in my eyes, the heart breaking revelation coming to my mind. 

I sniffle, a tear hitting the papers. 

I feel Duff wrap his arms around me, hugging me. 

"I'll be okay, Vivian." He tells me softly, and I choke out a little cry, grabbing his arms, holding them.

"It's so unfair." I say through my tears. "Because I really love you, I just can't…" 

"No, I know exactly how you feel." He assures me in the same tone, sounding like he's keeping himself from shedding a few tears, too. 

"I'm so sorry, Duff." I tell him, shaking my head a little. "You've been so good to me, and have made me so happy and have helped me through so much shit...thank you for being my peace for so long, even before we got together...I'm just so sorry." 

"I'm not." He tries to say it lightly to cheer me up. "I'm not mad, I'm not hurt…I don't regret anything." He adds. "I've loved you for years, Viv. If you think I'm gonna look back and be bitter we're breaking up, it's bullshit." He states. "I'm just glad you ever even look in my direction, but a whole thing happening…" he starts with a chuckle and I laugh, wiping my eyes. "...I'm gonna be thanking you for that until the day I die, so just do whatever you need to do. I'll be fine, Viv. I promise." 

It doesn't help me feel any better for, what I feel like is, completely screwing him over--and I just try to calm down, closing my eyes as we keep holding each other. 

Something that took three years to build, broken down in less than five minutes, and buried completely when he married Mandy five months later. 

I wish I could say I didn't carry guilt as his health declined over the next several years. I knew he wasn't solely drinking himself to death because of me staying with Nikki--but he'd let me know, very subtly, I was a part of it.

TWO WEEKS LATER

"...And he's not gonna wanna talk about the divorce so don't bring it up first thing, ease into it." Doc briefs me in the parking lot of the rehab facility. "Don't ask him if he's found Jesus yet, I did that the other day--bullshitting--and he tore me a new one so steer clear of the 'admitting there's a force greater than yourself' step in the program." He adds. 

"Okay." I reply as he opens the door. 

We get checked in and visitor passes…

"Are you wearing a pushup bra?" Doc asks me randomly as we walk in the direction of the visitation center and I furrow my brows. 

"No?" 

"Your boobs look bigger." He comments. 

"Stop looking at my boobs." 

"I wasn't, they're just not hard to miss." He states. 

I roll my eyes and keep walking down the hall. 

When we get to an open area with a big skylight and tables, I see Nikki sitting down and fidgeting with his watch.

He looks up and sees us. 

He already looks so much healthier--he looks exhausted, though.

The faintest hint, I mean the faintest, smile tugs at the corners of his lips for half a second, his eyes glued to me. 

[realm-sweet-realm]

Lasting Melodies, chapter 2: Now I Only Sing Alone

About ten days ago, I thought I’d make a story for Jack Fain and Sammy Lawrence, showing their snippets of their lives together from their first performance to Jack’s untimely death. I was not planning on it being two chapters and almost four thousand words long.

I hope you all enjoy this.

---

“And that’s how ah lost my old set of keys to a pack of stray cats! Anyhow, can ya tell Sammy that I’ll need to borrow his? He’d probably kill me if I did it myself!”

“Sure thing, Wally. Just... try to make the next set last a few weeks, alright? Budget is tight.”

It wouldn’t have been the first, third, or probably tenth time Jack had visited Sammy during their supposed break period for just that reason. Jack knew by now how much Sammy hated being taken out of the zone while writing music, so he just wrote down that Wally needed keys, put the note on Sammy’s desk, and tried to leave as quietly as possible. Just as he was leaving, he heard Sammy laugh drily.

“I couldn’t avoid you here if I wanted to, could I? It’s like a diet I keep cheating on.”

Jack didn’t know what to say to that. Sammy turned to look at him.

“Well, whatever. Let’s consider this break period over. Let’s get some lunch today, discuss some things.”

Thankfully, noon came fairly quickly- Jack’s heart rate hadn’t settled since Sammy invited him to lunch.

“So... obviously keeping my distance didn’t work, but we can’t just go back to the way things were, either.”

“Yeah. Look, I know that you’re with Susie now, and that’s okay. But have you figured what you wanted out of life, yet?”

Sammy sighed. “I guess. I always figured I’d be doing something bigger with my life, but Joey does treat me well. It’s hard to admit that you’re just comfortable enough to settle.”

Jack nodded. “And I mean, you are making a name for yourself! Joey worships you, most of the music department either fears you, envies you, or lusts after you, and everyone knows your name. It must feel great.”

“I meant making a name for myself outside the studio. But yeah, as far as working in Joey Drew Studios goes, I guess I’m pretty lucky. Are you staying here, too? I know a part of you wants back in the limelight.”

“Nah. This is a crazy place, but hey, I get to dedicate myself to my favourite thing and work under my best friend. I do miss being a stage personality, but that was always a long shot. And I’ve realized that I don’t need people to notice me like that.”

“Good, because there’s something I’ve wanted to ask you. So... Susie already knows that I’m bisexual. I haven’t asked her yet, but if you could join us, would you?”

Jack was taken aback. A part of him wanted to say yes, but he knew it wasn’t a good idea. “Sammy, no. You might swing both ways, but I don’t.”

“Then don’t sleep with her?” Sammy said as though the solution was obvious.

Jack sighed. “Fine. That’s not my hesitation. Look- if we did that, who would you be showing off to your parents on Christmas? Who would you be saying your vows to?”

Sammy became defensive. “It’s not like I can give you that anyhow. Susie wouldn’t be taking anything away from you that wasn’t already out of reach.”

“You aren’t getting it. I was fine with keeping ‘us’ a secret, but I don’t want to be your dirty secret while you’re openly with someone else. Especially not... someone you kind of left me for. I’m sorry. Plus, I’ve been seeing someone else the past couple weeks.” He said it as gently as possible, but he knew they weren’t the nicest words to hear.

“Oh,” Sammy said, annoyed and disappointed.

Jack searched for a way to soften the blow. “Susie does seem like a great girl, though- I’d love to get to know her better. Why don’t you bring her to that new bar in town this Friday night, and I’ll bring my new partner so you can meet him?”

Sammy muttered a “sure,” finished up quickly, and left, clearly annoyed.

Sammy’s annoyance had dissipated by Friday night, thankfully. Susie and Jack’s new partner got along, and things seemed to have gone back to normal between him and Sammy. It seemed like they’d be just fine as friends.

---

“Just so you know, Jack- Susie recently underwent a serious life change. It’s not exactly easy for her, so please just be supportive, okay?”

“Sure- isn’t that what I do best?” Jack promised. Neither of them were exactly strangers to Susie Drama- something similar had happened a few weeks ago when Susie had been replaced as the voice of Alice Angel. Or so Jack thought until Sammy pointed her out from the crowd.

“Susie?”

“Yep.”

The woman bore little resemblance to any human being. Her skin was white as chalk, her arms and torso were too thin and elongated, her eyes were too big, and she had horns and a painful-looking halo growing out of her skull. It was as though an alien had read a written description of an attractive woman and attempted to make one out of plastic.

Jack forced himself to look away out of politeness.

“Yeah, please don’t act shocked. She’s gotten enough of that already,” Sammy requested. Jack nodded in response.

Later in the day, when she was sure Sammy wasn’t around, Susie confided in him that she was already having second thoughts about her new body. “Don’t tell Sammy,” she’d said. “He’s... a part of this, and he’d feel awful if he knew.”

For the first time, Jack began to question just what Sammy was involved with.

---

Sammy had been looking over sheet music when he felt Susie’s ice-cold black hands squeeze his arm like a vice.

“Sammy, I need you to lock me up!” she begged, fear and hot tears building in her eyes.

“Susie, why-”

“Just do it! No questions, please!”

“Calm down... Uh, I’ll...” were there any rooms in the studio that could only unlock from the inside?

Suddenly, Alice shoved past him, into the middle of the music room. Allison, who had been speaking with Jack, barely had time to turn and notice her before Alice had tackled her against a wall. Everyone backed away in terror as Alice ripped off Allison’s chestnut-brown hair and began banging Allison’s head against a wall until there was blood on her scalp and dripping out of her nose. Norman could be heard descending the stairs from his projector booth. He pushed through the crowd and tore Susie away, leaving Allison, bruised and half-bald, to crumple to the ground.

“Okay, someone call the ambulance for Allison,” Norman barked, still restraining Alice as she squirmed and struggled. Then, he turned to glare at Sammy. “And you get the people who will look after this.”

Sammy shuddered, suspecting, not for the first time, that Norman knew his secrets. But he couldn’t not handle the situation, and so he did as he was told.

Within five minutes, Alice was being escorted away by three large, burly men in dark green GENT uniforms.

“Tell them to record what you can without me,” Sammy muttered to Jack. “And tell them not to bother me under any circumstances. And... can you meet me after work?”

“Of course,” Jack replied.

Sammy nodded in response and then disappeared into his office for the the rest of the workday.

When Jack met up with Sammy at the end of the day, he still looked as fragile as spun glass- understandable after what had happened.

“Hey... do you want to come over for the evening, see if we can distract you from this?”

Sammy said nothing, but stood up and wrapped his arms around Jack. Jack held him for a while and let him cry. Jack was shedding a few tears, too- Susie had been a good friend, and it seeing her snap like that would have shaken anyone up.

“It’s okay. I’m sure that wherever they took her, she’ll be fine. They’ll help her get back to normal. Hey, if you want, we could visit her in the asylum, see how she’s doing-”

Sammy looked to Jack, trying to find the words as to explain that that wasn’t possible without saying too much. Somehow, Sammy didn’t think Jack would let him cry on his shoulder if he knew that Susie would never see the light of day again, and it was partially Sammy’s own fault.

“I know you want to tell me something. You don’t have to right now. Alright?”

And for the moment, he didn’t. But in the future, he’d have to be more careful.

---

Susie’s capture was felt by the whole music room, and not just because she was no longer lighting it up with her smile. There was an air of unease, of mystery on everything now, as though the next act of violence could be perpetrated be anyone and at any time. It pushed Jack to spend more time holed up in the sewers, and Sammy to build his own private sanctuary. Once Allison returned to work a few days later, the distrustful feelings gradually began to dissipate for most.

But not for Sammy. The effects of Susie’s capture, or something related to it, seemed to linger on him for months.

Sammy had grown paranoid around the others, and more people spoke amongst each other about what might have snapped in his brain than were willing to risk speaking to him directly. Jack worried for him, but Sammy refused to say what was bothering him, and increasingly refused his (or anyone else’s) company. He felt as though there was little to do to help him.

---

The sound of a beating heart echoed off the walls of the sewers. The ink demon grinned. The walls of the infirmary had been no match for him, and though the sewer’s thick concrete walls would most likely present more of the problem, being able to stretch his legs after months spent in one room was extremely satisfying in and of itself.

Meanwhile, Jack was frozen in fear. The creature- lord only knew what it was- hadn’t seemed to notice him yet. Jack holed up under his desk, praying that it would pass him by.

The pumping sound grew nearer.

And nearer.

Until it seemed to stop directly in front of him.

Jack carefully put his head to the ground, trying to get a peek from under his desk without making a sound. It only allowed him to see a couple feet in front of the desk, but it was enough to show that the shadowy tendrils that surrounded the creature were mere inches from him. The creature took a step forwards, and Jack could feel the creature’s shadows wrapping around him, stealing his heat, and spreading from his hands to encompass his whole body. He was paralyzed.

The ink demon tipped over his desk, grabbed him by the leg, and dragged him over his desk and to the center of the sewer, where it held Jack’s head under the tar-like ink until he drowned.

---

Not for the first time, Sammy stepped into the passenger seat of Joey’s Pontiac. It was Thursday, and they always met on Thursdays to study and practice magic together. The experience was usually, well, magical- Joey had finally found the way to be a God in Sammy’s life. But apparently, not today. Sammy sat, arms crossed and silent, for at least a minute before speaking. “Where is he, Joey? What happened to Jack Fain?”

“You tell me!” Joey said in earnest surprise. “What’s happened to him?”

“He’s been missing for four days. That’s what’s happened. He punched in on Monday and never punched out. He won’t pick up his phone, and his partner doesn’t know where he is either. Don’t tell me you didn’t have anything to do with it.”

“I honestly didn’t.”

“Nothing new came out of the ink machine?”

Joey sighed heavily. “A new searcher came out of it. But that doesn’t mean anything! It could be anyone!”

Tears sprung up in Sammy’s eyes. “Drop me off at my place. I don’t want to do this tonight.”

Joey didn’t believe for a second that Sammy was only quitting for tonight. He was losing him unless he did something. “Really?” Joey said gently, “Something like this, while tragic, should encourage you if anything, shouldn’t it?”

Sammy looked to him with tired, mournful eyes.

“Think about it- if we don’t keep learning about the machine, we’ll never learn to reverse its process. Susie, Jack, anyone else who ends up connected to it- you need to keep working with me here so that we can set them free.”

Sammy laid back in his seat. “Look- I’m not going to be good company tonight... but that’s your problem. Go on, drive to the studio. Let’s do this.”

“Good. Good man.”

That night, along with the ink angel that bore no resemblance to Susie and the four or so other ink creatures that Joey or some GENT worker had locked up previously, Sammy saw a swollen searcher in a cage. If it recognized him at all, it showed no sign of it. It was a few days before Sammy managed to sneak down and give him back his hat.