#they had to go in and put a metal plate with screws and shit to hold it in place while it healed

[themeeplord]

TW for broken bones, surgery and cuts!

Put in the tags how many scars you have and how you got them

[xxavengingangelxx]

A Brighter Side of Grey 1/?

This is for my lovie @bellgraves. :) This is a continuation of my fic As the Rush Comes.

Summary: A female mercenary got a lot closer to killing Graves than anyone else had. So Graves put her in her place. After leaving her for dead, he was almost certain she was gone. So what happens when he catches her making another attempt on his life?

Warnings: Violence, drugging, kidnapping, all the things that come with writing about dueling mercenaries. If I need to add anything, let me know. Eventual smut, possibly enemies to lovers, I haven't decided :)

I have no idea where this fic could end up so let's all of us take a ride and see where it takes us! I didn't get a chance to proofread so please excuse any mistakes.

--

The first thing you remember…no the first thing you feel is pain.

Horrible pain.

Not being able to breathe like you should be able to. Instinctively you reach up to what’s blocking your airway.

Tubes.

Tubes that were making you gag.

Your right arm appeared useless so you used your left arm to try and pull the tubes out of your throat.

Someone tried to stop you from doing it but you shoved them away and finally yanked the tube out of your throat.

And you gagged, dry heaved over your hospital bed.

And when you did, you felt fire across your ribs.

More people came into your room and were shoved down, strapped down like a mental patient…

You gasped awake.

Another night, another nightmare.

All thanks to Phillip Graves.

You sat up in bed and grabbed your phone, seeing it was 2 in the morning. These nightmares had been going on every night sometimes multiple times a night since you’d regained consciousness.

You were almost ambidextrous before but now your right arm was at 75-80% mobility thanks to the spiral fracture Graves had inflicted when he broke your arm.

So you used your left arm to toss the covers off. Life had been pure hell since Graves had almost killed you. You might have been medically fragile when you got discharged from the hospital but that didn’t stop your boss from beating the shit out of you for the failed mission.

A year, your boss had said,  you have a year to stop faking this injury shit, find Graves, and kill him. Bring me his dog tags with his blood on ‘em.

You were almost certain that beatdown had take away mobility from your right arm too. You ran your fingers along the scars where the hospital had to cut your arm open and add screws and metal plates.

You had gotten an apartment with a garage because you were told it was going to take you months to recover. You dressed in shorts and a tank top before heading to the garage as you normally slept naked.

You got into your garage and looked upon the masterpiece you had been putting together in the last year. The entire wall of the garage was Phillip Graves. You’d been obsessed with tracking him down so for the last year that was all you had done, track Graves as much as you could.

You’d used string and thumbtacks to track his movements with as much detail as you could but you were still missing some pieces. Luckily paying a highly ranked military officer overlooking PMC contracts was finally able to pin Graves down to your home country.

As far as you knew, he was back in the States which would make killing him easier. You wouldn’t have to worry about a third-world enemy capturing you or a fake passport so you could focus all on Graves.

The map on your garage wall was taller than you, making you need to get a stepladder.

Graves was supposedly taking an R&R with his company in Houston, TX which was perfect because no matter where Graves went in Houston, there were sure to either be empty buildings or some other way your could hide high up and snipe Graves.

Sniping would be the lowest risk but the lowest reward. You wouldn’t get to see him die.

The highest risk highest reward would be to allow yourself to be captured, pray Graves didn’t kill you outright, and lay low, get information, gain his trust, then kill him before leaving with dead Graves’s dog tags and interior information about Shadow company.

I don’t care how you fucking do it, you recall your boss telling you after you reeled and almost whimpered from the pain the beatdown he’d given you for failing your mission. Get it done. Be his fuckin’ whore for a year and then kill him. Snipe him. Get it done or go ahead and pick out your headstone.

You’d be able to prove yourself and provide information on Shadow Company. Your boss wouldn’t see you as a failure anymore and you’d get to live.

Weeks of trying to make a decision was interrupted by a text from you boss, simply saying, Two months left.

You’d tracked Graves down to Houston but it was proving difficult to find him in a vulnerable position enough to take him out with a sniper rifle.  He was too heavily guarded to simply approach him and attempt the hit.

That night you fell asleep and finally slept for more than 5 hours straight because you finally had a plan. You’d make a pathetic attempt to hurt Graves and you were certain his boys would jump all over you…but they wouldn’t kill you…not until Graves gave the order.

And if Graves did give them the order at least you’d die quick rather than slowly and painfully at your boss’s hand.

***

Today was Graves’s last day in Houston or so you’d been told from intel. So you needed to move quick.

It hadn’t been too hard to find the fancy hotel where Graves and his Shadows had been staying. So to make sure you wore a cloth mask similar to the one you wore when COVID had been rampant. You’d died and cut your hair. The only part of you left unchanged by a large margin was your height.

You walked into the lobby and eyed some of his men, each carrying heavy military backpacks or duffels as they loaded their Tahoes and Suburbans in the back parking lot of the hotel.

You were walking down a hallway as you tried to find a way up to the roof when you saw him.

Graves himself. The Shadow himself. Shadow-01. A legendary mercenary and the CEO of his own private military.

Before you new what was happening your breath caught in your throat. Were you panicking? Afraid? He was leaving his own hotel room, military backpack securely on his shoulders. You thought he was alone when you saw what you’d describe as a dumb bimbo whore walking out of his hotel room after him.

And then fear turned into…jealousy?  Why the hell did you care who Graves slept with?

But it was definitely jealousy burning in your chest.

So when she walked away while Graves was getting the last of his belongings from his hotel room, she brushed your side and that was all you needed to shove a knife right into her ribs.

She started to cry out but you delivered a sharp karate shop to her throat to where she couldn’t speak. Next you delivered a blow to her solar plexus, so she’d be quiet for at least the next minute while she gasped for air. You used your gloved hands to shove the knife in her hand, making it seem like she had either done it herself or done it accidentally.

You turned the corner when Graves closed his hotel room door, keycard in his hand.

“You trip, darlin’?” He drawled as he walked closer to his female friend. When he tried to help her up, he noticed she was bleeding heavily from her side. And that she was gasping for air.

“Holy shit,” Graves actually sounded surprised. “What…what happened?”

And you smiled for the first time in a year because you were proud of yourself that you’d managed to startle Graves.

After finding a stairway that led to the roof, you busted the lock on that door and made your way to the top of the building.

It was cold, windy up on the roof and you were glad you’d worn layers. Layers were mandatory anyway because you needed to change the clothes you’d entered that hotel in. But first…

An attempt on Graves’s life. Not a real attempt but you certainly had to make it look real.

It didn’t take long for you to build the short-range sniper rifle you’d brought with you.

You had to wait longer than your would have liked as the police and an ambulance showed up. Then the coroner. Whoops, you thought. You hadn’t meant to kill her.

Good riddance, bitch. He’s mine. And you had no idea where that thought came from.

Graves finally exited the hotel towards the back parking lot.

Through the scope you saw he looked…shaken, unsure of what had just happened.

And that made you smile a second time.

You had counted the number of men Graves had with him as they loaded up in the parking lot.

Three were missing.

You frowned into the scope, trying to see if they were already in the vehicles.

Nope. No one was in the vehicles yet.

So where were they?

Maybe in the hotel?

You were about to take another look through the scope when it suddenly darkened around you. You thought it was nothing. It was a cloudy day so maybe the sun had slipped behind the clouds.

But you were suddenly dragged backwards, away from your rifle and across the rough material of the roof.

You reached for a knife down your shirt and sliced into that motherfucker’s hand hard enough that he hissed and released you.

Shadows. They probably swept every location for threats before their boss made himself visible outside.

You knew another thing that might shock this Shadow enough to where you had more time to react was to remove your mask. You were certain Graves had warned his men about you.

And you were right.

Once you lowered the mask, you saw the Shadows's eyes widen. “You’re dead,” he gasped.

You were about to tell him, Tell your boss to finish the job next time when you heard a footstep behind you. You turned and had no time to react as a Shadow used his rifle to strike you across the left side of your head.

And then…

A sharp, stinging pain followed by falling deeper and deeper into a black hole.

***

You woke up when the vehicle you were in hit a sharp bump in the dirt road. You tried to take a breath but it was difficult. Your mouth was duct-taped shut and your hands being bound behind you didn’t help.

You felt someone tear the long sleeve of your right arm followed by a muffled, “It’s her,” you guessed they were identifying you based on the scars Graves knew he left on your body.

Then you heard Graves’s familiar drawl say, “Drug ‘her. She can’t know where she’s going,”

You tried to move but your body felt heavy and wasn’t responding to your brain’s commands. The sensation reminded you of how you felt coming out of another surgery to repair your arm. Whatever they were using to drug you was strong. And no matter how hard you fought it, you lost consciousness faster than you would have liked.

***

You woke up on a cement floor. The duct tape had been removed from your face but your hands were still bound behind you. It was causing significant pain in your right arm.

“What’d I say would happen to you if I got ahold of you?”

And when you opened your eyes you saw him standing in front of you, larger than life, in the same uniform and vest he’d had on the night he almost killed you.

Phillip Graves.

And that was when your breath caught in your throat again and your heart started skipping beats.

[copious-zygomaticus]

Beakers, Blue Matter, And Boys In Love

There’s chemistry brewing in the Walter manor when Peter VI hires a new bioengineer to help with blue matter research. Wacky romantic adventures ensue.

Chapter 1: Welcome To Walter Manor

The steering wheel felt smooth under your sweaty hands as you nervously drove to your new job. After years of research on organic organisms in laboratories, you were moving on to a bigger and more anxiety inducing subject matter. Your previous job at a research lab fell through when investors pulled their funding, deeming that “results weren’t coming along fast enough”. So here you were, parking your car outside the famed Walter Manor to start your job as the on site biotech researcher for blue matter. You click your keys out of the ignition then stand up and smooth your lab coat as a sigh escapes your mouth. You’ve never worked with technology in the same way as you’re about to, and you can’t lie to yourself when your nerves sneak up your stomach lining. You hear the beep of your car locking as your shoes make soft clicks towards the grand doors at the front of the manor. The dark wood is so entrancing and luxurious in its age and majesty. The wood feels aged as you knock on the doors and a large sound echoes out into the house. You hear some distance voices and the turning of cogs followed by metallic crashes. What could possibly be going on in there? The flip of a switch reaches your ears as a machine roars to life. You look above your head and see a complex mechanism opening the grand doors. Your eyes quickly align in front of you to see a pale girl in front of you. Her glossy dark blue hair strikes you as gorgeously distinct in contrast with her clean white lab coat style dress.

*Camille show you around the facilities and welcomes you yada yada*

You arrive at the lab where your research will take place. Placing your bag down on a desk in the pristine office portion of the work space. The Walter girl proceeded to explain which entrance you will use each day and hand you an ID card.

“This card is how you click in and out, so don’t loose it, ‘Kay?” Camille says while bouncing over to put a lanyard attached to your ID around your neck. She is so sweet and the corners of you mouth tug upwards into an inevitable smile. You just know you’re going to be good friends as you work here.

“Thank you Camille, I appreciate all the help around the manor. This place is huge, I have no idea how I’ll manage to navigate it,” a small laugh follows your statement.

“Oh I totally understand! It’s a big place, but I have a little map for you!” She take out a small paper map of the Walter manor with a highlighted path on traced on it in pink.

“So the pink path is how you get to your lab, and I’ve circled the bathrooms and break room for you!” Camille points at the different places on the map as she describes them.

“Thank you so much, this is gonna help a lot!” You smile back at her.

“Perfect! Now I have to go do some repairs, so I’ll leave you to get settled in! And if you need any help from there I’m sure you’ll find someone around to help!” Camille rushed out the door leaving you to your silent devices.

What does she mean I’ll find someone around? I didn’t see or hear another soul except for Camille the entire tour. While unpacking the contents of your bag and contemplating the ominous statement you hear the faint sound of gears turning and metal dropping against the hard floor.

Dear god what is that sound, you just want to start your new job, why is scary shit happening. The sound of puffing steam reached your ears and only made you more confused. You scrambled behind a nearby desk to look professional in case it was your boss; also to put some distance between yourself and whatever was coming your way. After a few seconds, you see a puff of steam in your door way, and then a- wait what.

Why is there a cute guy in your lab? Guy is probably not the correct descriptor, seeing as the man had gold plated skin, screws, cogs, and steam vents. His long light brown curly hair shone under the harsh lights of your new lab. His metallic fingers grabbed at his suspenders, “you must be the new scientist in the manor! The name’s The Jon!” One of his hands leaves his suspenders to wave at you, snapping the band into his torso. There is little reaction on The Jon’s behalf, the largest smile you’ve ever seen plastered on the robot’s face. All you can do is stare with your jaw on the floor. When you heard you were working with blue matter and robots, you were not expecting to meet such sentient human-like robots.

The tension leaves your hands that you did not even realize you had clenched, walking over to your visitor.

“Well ‘The Jon’, it’s lovely to meet you! I’m the new researcher Mr. Walter hired,” you hold out a hand for the gold automaton, which is quickly taken into his smooth cold hands excitedly. His curly brown hair bounced with every shake of the hand, glinting despite being under the harsh leds of the lab. A smile tugs at your lips, seeing someone so outgoing is refreshing in a career filled with older straight edged coworkers.

After shaking hands, you took in more of his appearance and behavior. He had this energetic spring in his every movement despite the springs and coils that limited his range of motion. The job began to speak once more in his melodious voice, “Oh yeah!! I remember Petes’ talkin about that over the tower of tacos on Tuesday,” the mention of a taco tower and the incredibly casual usage of your new boss’ name confused you deeply, but you continued to listen as small hisses of steam interjected The Jon’s words, “I was also lookin for Camille cause Rabbit’s voice modulator is wacking out again, she sounds like a helium balloon!”

The Jon illustrates his statement by making an orb shape with his hands and raising them up like a balloon.

You walk to the door and point to the right, “well she was here a minute ago, she headed in that direction if you wish to catch her.”

He nods at you before running off, waving at you behind him and yelling out a ‘thank you’.

What a strange individual, you thought while shrugging your shoulders.

Little did you know, that was only the beginning of the peculiar things that would happen to you in the Walter Manor.

Thank you all so much for reading! This is my first time writing a fanfic in over 6 years so bear with me. Posts will be inconsistent but I’ll do my best, thanks again! 🩵

[deathssunshine]

*Jumin Han and Victor Li cross over Head Cannon*

🤍A cross over of Jumin (mystic messenger) and Victor (Mr love queen's choice)🤍

~Description: I never really saw any fan fics out there of victor and jumin crossing over. I think they would be good friends in all honesty.~

Warning: bad language, two idiots being two idiots, jumin driving 😟 and victor almost dying several times. I tried to be serious for four dot points but ended up failing on the fifth, my shit taste in humor I'm sorry if the jokes are that bad 😭, SOME INFORMATION IS PROBABLY WRONG LMAO

Genre: man I love guys tits, I'm just bored

Word count:

Game: mystic messenger, Mr love queen choice

Pairings: no pairing just them being best friends

Character: Jumin Han and Victor Li

*Victor Li and Jumin Han cross over*

When they first meet it's for business reasons. Let's just say their fathers used to be good friends in university and haven't seen each other since then. They met at LFG for the first time and instantly knew they would get along. They shook hands and introduced themselves "I'm victor Li" "nice to meet you I'm Jumin Han".

From there they would go out to souvenir to get to know each other on the request of their fathers.

Earlier that day victor had made croissants that were still in the oven by the time he got back. He pulled them out of the oven and smiled at how good they looked. He then cut the croissants in half and put the best ham and cheese around and put it between the croissants. He brought the plates out to jumin and asked Mr mills to bring the coffee he had made.

They talked for a bit and jumin really admired victors cooking.

Jumin then went into a 30 minute rant about his cat Elizabeth the third.

"She sheds 3 to 28 strands of fur a minute" Jumin says proudly as he was showing victor shakey images of Elly. "... Why would you even count that? And why are you talking about her as if she is your daughter?" Victor would respond looking at the man as if he were insane. "Well first off, because she's my daughter and second of all, because she's my daught-... That reminds me of a conversation I had awhile ago about making scarves out of cat hair" "fucking what" "I should start looking into that again" "please shut up"

Jumin would then offer to drive (😟) victor somewhere, claiming he saw a nice place in the way to LFG. He would use the car driver Kim was using which was a loan and is great for city roads. At first it wasn't so bad, just a little rusty but not too bad for victor to worry over it. But then he takes a detour and drives off road onto a nature path somehow not crashing the car as he turns on the radio for it to be on a highosh volume where they have to raise their voice for each other to hear. Victor clings on for dear life starting to worry "How did you get your licence!" Victor yells as he thinks of any possible ways to get out. "Oh! It expired actually! Around I don't know.. 2 or 5 years ago?!" "WHAT" Jumin smiles as he turns the radio up even higher. The song playing is free bird specifically the "free bird yeah*guitar solo*" part which is at the very end of the song.

As the guitar solo plays jumin ends up driving off the cliff and they both end up in hospital 🤍

After recovering the two hang out again at the penthouse jumin is staying at. "I don't know anymore victor.. it just feels loose?" Jumin says standing in front of Victor, in only a bathrobe. "Why would your dick feel loose? It's not like it's screwed in. Are you missing a nut or something?" Victor says with a cocky grin. "Maybe.." he says. A nut and screw falls onto the floor then metal dick falls and all they can hear is the metal pipe sound. A rocket then shoots out of the tip and into victor sending him back to the hospital.

They become best friends and victor has this bathroom where they can shit AND arm wrestle at the same time!

How sweet is that!

Their cats would definitely be good friends too. Maybe they might fall in love.

"are you gay?" "Fuck you victor."

Lol thanks for reading -etchartfan

[unfcrtunatescn]

@clockwork---heart​ Cont. [x]

There was a good thing about having older model legs. Because they were sturdy as fuck. And the upkeep was fairly easily on all of them. He knew how to take core of them and do his maintenance inside and out. The hard part was when he needed a replacement part, it was harder to find them if a person didn’t know where to look. Pawn shops, junk shops, and tool shops were generally the best places to look. Sometimes those places were in seedier parts of towns and cities. 

Which was why Mercury had wanted to go alone, he didn’t want to drag Oscar down into some scummy place. Even if the kid had asked where he was going and he’d told him honestly. The assassin didn’t think he was going to be gone long. 

So when he told Oscar he was going for tools, he was really going for parts. He needed some replacement screws, some rubber rings, some grease, and lube. All of those were easy to find. He also needed a ball joint which was going to be a bit harder to find. 

What he hadn’t been expecting during his search, was someone being stupid enough to try to jump him. 

The fight was brief, but annoying. The worst part was that knife got snapped off in between the metal plates of his leg. It didn’t hurt, but if left alone it could cause damage. 

He’d been cussing at himself, trying to get it out with a screwdriver and his fingers when he heard Oscar. Shit. He didn’t want Oscar down here. He didn’t want the kid to get jumped. Sure he saw all kinds of horrors already, but still, he didn’t want to be the reason the kid was exposed to things like this. 

“I’m good, Kiddo, just give me a sec,” 

He put weight on his leg, the knife was in there and didn’t feel like it was sliding around. Mercury should be okay to get back to where they were staying. Or at least somewhere safer that he could take the plat back properly and get it out. 

He wiped he bloody fingers and knuckles on his jeans, before shoving them in his pockets. He gave the guy that knifed him a final kick for his troubles, before walking out of the alley. 

“This isn’t a place for a sweet kid with a fancy coat, let’s get you outta here,” He elbowed Oscar’s side a bit and give him a grin. 

[ikkaku-of-heart]

medicus-mortem​:

   Ikkaku pops out from behind a pipe and Law thinks maybe her hair is more frazzled than usual. Maybe a sign that she is not happy. He knows how she feels about his Shichibukai title and this leash on them making them play nice with the Marines. He gets it, he really does. Law has every reason to hate these bastards but he knows when to put that hate aside, when working with them serves his purposes better than if he continues to fight against them. Right now, Trafalgar Law needs this title and he needs the access it gives him.

   That doesn’t mean he’s going to play the perfect little lap dog. On the contrary, he is fully capable of undermining them and finding the loopholes he needs to be a right bastard while playing within the rules. This little plan he’s devised is just that. First, there was the vault for the pirate hearts he stole and now comes a little treat. Some blue prints and tech to tide them over long enough that they won’t threaten to strip his title just so they can get a glimpse of the Tang’s interior.

   He frowns at her threat, grunting a little as he realises it isn’t quite true. Her frustration is real, yes, but even if Ikkaku hates this, Law knows she won’t endanger his mission like that. If she did Law might just lose his shit at her, because if this doesn’t work out than everything he’s worked towards would mean nothing. A small grimace but he pushes that aside, the doctor not wanting to start spiraling that line of anxiety inducing thoughts. Instead, he focuses on the immediate issue.

   Ikkaku salutes and Law straightens. He steps closer to her, brow furrowing in thought and hand rising to scratch at his goatee.

   “The Marines are starting to demand I co-operate more with their desire for submarine blueprints,” he says, the concern present in his tone. “If I don’t give them somethin’ it’ll be a problem but I have managed to talk them down to only weapon specs. You think you can come up with somethin’ believable that’s also total garbage?”

The furious scowl returned to Ikkaku’s face the moment Law revealed what the Marines were demanding. There was no way in hell the Navy was getting anything about her ship. Ikkaku might not have designed or built it, but the Polar Tang was her baby. She’d put so much of her heart and soul into this ship, and she knew Wolf had done the same. She’d upgraded or invented the majority of the defenses, utilities, systems, and machines. Every wire and screw and metal plate had been touched by her at some point. Handing over even blueprints felt violating, in a way. Especially since she knew why they wanted them. They wanted to make their own submarines. To copy hers and Wolf’s work to make inferior knock-offs because nothing could ever compare to the original. Perhaps even to find weaknesses in the Tang so they could destroy it. 

It was bad enough that she’d had to make other tech for these bastards. She had hoped it would end with the heart vault, as that had been an unfortunate necessity, but then Law had tossed the rabid hounds some of her other tech in hopes of satisfying them to keep them from ripping them apart.

Her captain should have known that they’d never be satisfied with scraps.

The fact that Law was already planning on giving them false plans was the only reason she didn’t lay into him. She was willing to put up with a lot for him, but she would sooner burn every blueprint to the Tang, blow up the ship, and lobotomize herself than hand over anything about it to those bastards.

A sharp, hissing inhalation to keep calm, then Ikkaku forced herself to relax. Law apparently had a plan, and she could work with this. Even if she didn’t like giving them even an outline of the sub. Law would never allow the Marines to get their hands on anything related to the sub. Nothing real, at least. If he’d been willing to go that far, he wouldn’t be asking her to do this. He could just hand them over without regard for her opinion if he really wanted to. He was the captain, after all. Instead, he was asking for her help to pull the wool over the Navy’s eyes.

He was asking for Ikkaku to help him fuck with these bastards, and she’d gladly take the chance.

“Yeah. I can put something together,” she finally said, ushering him over to her workbench and pulling over an extra chair. Grabbing a sheet of paper and a pencil, she started to sketch out the basic outline of her ship. She didn’t even need to measure it - she knew the shape and specs by heart. In fact, she deliberately began altering the measurements in the most minute ways. A millimeter here and there to change the exact position of the fins or torpedo bays. Little things that no one but the most observant of engineers would notice. “I do need to know if you’ve told them anything about the Tang’s interior though. Especially lies. Even how many floors we’ve got. I can’t risk contradicting those if we want this to be believable.” 

[thirsty-lakedream]

K3: Meeting the Parents

Everything was going so well. Kenny was really hitting it off with Mom and Dad. He was telling jokes, complimenting my mom’s cooking, all the things that would put him in good standings with them. Exactly as planned.

“Kenny, you are just amazing!” Mom said between sips of wine.

“Thanks Mrs. Knight, and thank you again for having me for dinner.” Kenny said,flashing that perfect smile.

“Well, when Steven told us he had a boyfriend, we just knew we had to see it with our own eyes!” Dad says with grit in his voice. I look up from my plate of food, rolling my eyes at him.

They were acting nice now, but behind closed doors they would always belittle me because of my weight and looks. I remember when I came out they couldn’t imagine anyone being into me. I knew bringing home a 6’2” muscled hunk would show them I’m not a loser. All through dinner Mom took glances at Kenny’s muscles stretching his grey v-neck. Even Dad seemed intimidated by him. It was going perfectly.

“I’m the one lucky to have him,” Kenny wrapped an arm around me and kissed me on the cheek. “Your son is the sweetest, most hon- uhhhhh.” Suddenly, he stopped mid sentence, his voice dragging tensely. I looked up to him and it was like everything came to a halt.

“You alright there?” My dad starts to ask, noticing something off. Kenny’s head started to twitch to the side slightly and he began to blink spontaneously. He was completely unresponsive, I didn’t know what was going on.

Panicked I pulled him up, luckily his legs were still semi-functioning as I pulled him up. “Oh, he’s fine!” I lied. “He- he just needs to freshen up, we’ll be right back!” Without looking back, I led my unresponsive boyfriend into the bathroom. Hopefully my parents wouldn’t think too much into it, but who would come to the truth at a glance?

Locking the door behind me, I sat him down on the toilet. His face remained frozen, mouth agape with synthetic drool pooling on his chin. I didn’t know how to fix him. Pulling out my phone I dialed my roommate, Chester.

After a moment, he finally answered, “Hey man what’s up! How’s meeting the parents going!”

“Not good,” I replied bluntly. “Your experiment completely broke down!” I realized I started talking loudly. If I didn’t shut up my parents would realize something was seriously wrong with Kenny. “You said this robot would be a flawless boyfriend to show off to my parents. What happened?”

“Oh shit.” I hear him say on the other end. “My cat screwed with my keyboard and wrecked the AI!” I start hearing him typing vigorously.

“Can you fix it? I’m hiding out in the bathroom with him all limp and stupid!”

“No… the code will take days to fix. Give me a second.” He leaves me on hold for a moment. I could hear typing on the other end before, “Okay, I think I found a solution. It’s still in development, but I’m going to try and activate puppet mode. First, you have to do something.”

“Okay what do you need?”

“You’ll have to reset it. Take off the K3 units shirt. You’ll find his power switch marked by his tattoo.” Doing as he said, I unbutton his shirt revealing his rock-hard muscles. As real as they feel, I know it’s nothing but silicone skin and metal parts encasing a supercomputer. On his pecs I see the Roman-numeral tattoo. “Now press it for five seconds.”

Placing my hand on his pec, my hand concaved into his skin. Kenny’s eyes shut and he sat there completely motionless. After a moment I lifted my hand off of him. “Ok Ches, now what?”

No response from the phone. But suddenly, Kenny’s eyes shot open. He stared at me coldly, before saying. “Hello? Testing…testing… Steven, is it working?”

“Umm Kenny?” I say back.

“Naw dude it’s me! Chester!” He says in Kenny’s programmed voice. The robot stands, though his movements seem slightly more artificial. “Puppet mode seems to be functional. I’m controlling the K3 unit from my computer!”

“That’s awesome! You have to let me try it sometime”.

“Sure, sure. But first let’s get you out of this. Now I don’t know how stable this connection is so let’s finish dinner so you can get us back home.” As he begins to get a feel for movement, he seems to be as real as before.

“Sounds good.” I start to turn towards the door, but then get an idea. “Actually, what’s the rush. You let me take him out to see how realistic he could act. I was promised that Kenny could play the perfect boyfriend. So… why not test that out.”

Kenny, rather Chester, knew exactly what I meant and gladly followed my command. As I unbuckled my pants and let my growing erection loose, my robot boyfriend got down to his knees and got down to work. Even though he’s nothing but a realistic puppet, every lick and suck felt unbelievably real. I knew that I would have a lot more fun with K3 in the future. And hey, maybe I can convince Chester to let me test out his other prototypes.

[ibis-gt]

hello i have written an au based on @unicornofgt 's fantastic gtms series! please go read that if you haven't yet, it's a real fun ride.

2500 words, warnings for swearing, brief gore and violence.

~~~~~

Cam woke up. It was still dark out, though, so he decided he’d try and go back to sleep before his alarm clock went off. He went to roll over and pull the covers up, and realized there were no covers because he wasn’t in bed, or even lying down. He was on his feet and he could feel his arm was outstretched, hand curled into a fist as though he’d just thrown a punch. Then he became aware of a little voice screaming in his head. Or, maybe right in front of his head? It sounded frustrated and scared.

“Why can’t I move? Why isn’t anything working!? Oh, shit, it’s getting up, left left go LEFT goddamn it!”

Left? Cam knew which way was left. Should he go left? He sidled that way slowly, unsure of what else to do. He still couldn’t see, it was too dark out, and he didn’t know who the voice belonged to or what it was talking about.

Suddenly, something slammed hard into his right shoulder, spinning him around, and he heard the voice scream in panic. There was the screech of something sharp scrabbling against metal. Whatever had hit him was hanging on, trying to drag him to the ground. He widened his stance and leaned away from it, trying to counterbalance to keep on his feet. The voice cried out again.

“Shit, shake it off, c’mon! Watch out for the tail - hand up! Now!” Cam threw his free hand out in front of himself and felt something slam into it - the tail, he supposed.

“There! Good! Now pull it off!” He got a grip on the tail and tugged as hard as he could. The weight against his right side lessened, and finally with one last metallic screech came free as he tossed it away.

“Oh, god, what the hell? Did we switch to voice controls mid-battle and no one told me? I hate this army. Ok, fine. Forward!”

Army? Battle? Voice controls? Cam’s head was spinning, his adrenaline was pumping, and he still couldn’t see. Following the voice had to be his best option. If they were in a fight, it was his only chance of getting out alive. He made himself march forward, but he was still hesitant. It was one thing to grab for things you couldn’t see, but walking when you couldn’t tell what was in front of you was nerve-wracking. There could be a big pit or something right in front of him, and he’d never know.

“Forward, c’mon, I need to get to it before it gets up! Move!”

Well, the voice would tell him if he was going to step in something, wouldn’t it? It seemed like its survival depended on him defeating whatever that thing that had hit him was. He moved forward with more confidence, picking up the pace and breaking into a jog.

“Slow down, we’re right on top of it! Stomp!”

Cam skidded to a halt and lifted his foot. He hesitated for one moment - what if he missed? - and the voice came back.

“LIttle to the right… there you go. Down! Hard!”

He brought his foot down. Something crunched and splattered underneath it. Cam felt bile rise in his throat as he realized he had no idea what - or who - he’d just stomped on. What if that was another person’s head? He’d assumed whoever it was had been trying to kill him, but he didn’t know. What if they just wanted to subdue him? Why were they fighting?

“Give it another one, just in case,” the voice said. Cam recoiled in horror and took several steps back, and the voice called out in confusion. “What? What’s going on?”

To hell with this. Now that Cam had a moment to think, he could feel something around his head. It wasn’t dark out, there was something covering his eyes. He tried to put a hand on his face and hit some smooth, flat surface. The voice whimpered.

Cam reached up with both hands and felt around his head. Some kind of helmet thing, it felt like. He got a grip on the sides and pulled. It resisted at first, like it was tethered in place, but he gave it a twist and yanked, and whatever had been holding it snapped. He pulled his head free and gasped in fresh air. Fresh-ish air. Better than the stale stuff stuck in the helmet, at least.

He turned the helmet over in his hands, giving it a curious once-over, and stared at the front plate. There was a window that showed a little cockpit, complete with a little chair surrounded by controls. Sitting in the chair was the tiniest man Cam had ever seen. He was probably just about the size of Cam’s thumb. He looked absolutely terrified.

The little man screamed. It startled Cam enough that he screamed too, starting and tossing the helmet in the air. He fumbled for it, knocking it from hand to hand for a moment, before narrowly catching it before it hit the ground.

“Oh, shit, shit, shit, I’m sorry,” Cam said, and turned it back around to see the little man. He’d gone limp and pale, eyes closed, mouth hanging open a little. Must’ve fainted.

“This is so bizarre,” he murmured. “I mean, I had a tiny man controlling me?” He looked up, finally taking note of his surroundings. He was standing in a burned out, desolate city, buildings smoking and crumbling, cars strewn about the street like discarded toys. As Cam looked around, he came to a horrifying realization. The man in the helmet wasn’t tiny. Cam was huge. He dwarfed the nearest buildings. He could track his footsteps by the crater-like prints left in the street.

“O… kay. Okay. I don’t remember being this tall.” Cam laughed nervously, unsure of what to do. Then he caught sight of what he’d been fighting.

Whatever its head had looked like, it was impossible to tell. Cam’s boot had smashed it into gory chunks. Its body was leonine, four legs and paws with razor sharp claws, but with a long, thick, almost lizard-like tail that ended in spikes. A thagomizer, Cam thought. The word came to him unbidden, and he didn’t know how he knew it. He realized suddenly that he didn’t know a lot of things. His name was Cam. Was that his first name or his last name? Did he have another name, too? He couldn’t remember. How old was he? Where was he from? How had he gotten here? Where was here? The questions were piling up, and he had no answers for any of them. His hands still clutching the helmet began to shake. There was no time to freak out, though, he had to keep his cool. If there was one monster, there could be more of them. As if on cue, a chorus of growls kicked up some distance away. Cam tucked the helmet under one arm and started to sprint. He’d get out of the city, find someplace quiet, wake up the little man, and get some answers.

~~~

Luther stirred, eyes slowly blinking open. Somehow he’d fallen asleep in his pilot chair, and he was stiff and sore as hell. He sat up, stretching, and then everything flooded back to him. Oh god. His mech. FM-609. It wasn’t a mech at all, it was a person, and they had taken him off and looked at him. Had they known all along? Had they just been following orders til they suddenly decided not to? What the hell was going on?

Looking out of the windshield, Luther could see that the helmet was sitting upright on the ground. He was surrounded by the dusty, rocky plains, no living soul in sight. Maybe he’d been left behind? The helmet had no power on its own, so he couldn’t call back to the base for help. He wasn’t even sure he wanted to. He couldn’t just stay here, either, that was a death sentence for sure. Luther slowly eased himself out of the chair and down to the ground. It was early evening, the sun just starting to set, dusk settling over everything. He took a few shaky steps forward, then found his legs and started to sprint.

“Whoa!” A voice thundered behind him. Luther gasped, adrenaline kicking in, spurring him to run faster. A shadow fell over him, and he had only a moment to choke out a shuddering sob before fingers longer than he was tall wrapped around him, lifting him high up into the air. Luther kicked and struggled, tears spilling down his cheeks, as he was turned to face the giant who’d been inside of his mech. The sheer scale of the man took Luther’s breath away. He was sitting down, legs crossed, still wearing the mech suit. Those intense eyes bored into him, neon blue and literally glowing, like headlights in the growing dark.

“Hey, hey, hey,” the man said. He seemed to be trying to keep his voice low and soothing, but it wasn’t doing much to calm Luther down. “You’re okay, I’m not going to hurt you, I just have some questions.”

“I - I’m sorry,” Luther choked, “I didn’t - I didn’t know - I didn’t know you were in there.”

“You didn’t know,” the man echoed, his voice flat.

“And that, that doesn’t excuse it, I’m not - I just, I - ,” Luther broke off, his sobs distorting his voice too much to be understood.

“Okay, okay, calm down,” the man tried. “That’s okay. Here - maybe this is better.”

Luther shrieked as the hand opened, letting him slip free, but instead of plummeting to the ground so far below, he fell harmlessly into the man’s waiting palm. He scrambled backwards, trying to get away, but only bumped up against the man’s curled fingers. Luther froze, chest heaving, mind racing, trying to think of what to do next.

“Okay,” the man said again. “Let’s start over. What’s your name?”

“L-luther,” Luther breathed. “Luther Algers.”

“Luther. Hi, Luther, it’s nice to finally meet you. I’m Cam.”

“Cam…?” Luther prompted. Cam frowned.

“Um… just Cam, I think.”

“Is that… is that short for anything?”

Cam shrugged. “Just Cam. I don’t remember anything else. That’s, uh, that’s actually what I wanted to ask you about. I don’t remember anything before I woke up in this suit of armor. Actually…” Cam’s face screwed up with the effort of remembering. “I remember a voice. I think it was yours, it sounds about the same. Just bits of it, though, always talking about a fight. You were using me to fight those monsters, right?”

“I’m sorry,” Luther whimpered. He shrank further back, hopelessly aware that it did him no good. Cam surrounded him on all sides. If he wanted Luther dead, all he would have to do was squeeze…

“No, it’s okay,” Cam sighed. “I’m not mad. Well, I’m not mad at you. I assume someone put you in that suit, right? And they didn’t tell you there was a person inside it.”

“No, they didn’t. I mean, yes, they gave me the mech, but no, they never said… you know. They told me you were a robot designed to fight nemeans.”

“Nemeans?”

“That’s what we call those lion-looking monsters, the thing we killed today,” Luther explained. “You were really good at it.” He looked thoughtful for a moment. “I always kind of wondered, you know… if the mechs were robots built to a schematic, why did they all look sort of different? Different builds, I mean. Like people. But if they were constructs, wouldn’t it be easier to build them all the same, so you don’t have to get specialized parts to repair them?” He sighed. “I guess I know why now. But I don’t know how… Have you always been giant?”

“Not as far as I can tell,” Cam said. “I mean, like I said, I don’t remember anything before. But when I woke up in the city it all looked wrong. Like a scale model instead of a real place. I guess that means I’m used to being your height?”

“Or that there’s secretly a giant civilization built to your scale that humanity has somehow never discovered, and then the government found it and covered it up, and used its citizens as military weapons,” Luther supplied helpfully.

The two of them stared at each other for a long moment, then simultaneously burst out laughing. The absurdity of the situation was just too much for them.

“Yeah, I bet it’s that,” Cam said, wiping a tear from one eye. “Whoo. Okay. You’re a card, Luther, you know that?”

Luther smiled despite himself. “I try.” He’d relaxed considerably over the course of their conversation. He took a moment to look Cam over. Long, dark hair spilled over his shoulders. A thick beard and moustache covered the lower half of his face. His features were all impressive - huge, pointed nose, thick eyebrows, strong cheekbones, strong jaw, softened a little by fat. He was quite handsome, when Luther really looked at him. Those eyes, though - those glowing eyes. Those were unsettling.

Luther’s expression sobered, and he sat up a little. “What do we do now?”

Cam sighed and leaned back. “Well… we can’t go back to the military, they’d probably throw me right back in a suit and lock you up for exposing their secrets. We’ve got to be on their radar at least, since we just up and disappeared. I’d like to get this armor off me as soon as possible, because it’s really heavy and uncomfortable. And then… how much do you know about this area?”

Luther looked around, getting his bearings a little more. “A bit. There should be some groups of rogues around here - bandits, thieves, outcasts, the like. We could try to join up with them. They’d have food, at least, and they’d probably welcome the kind of protection you could give.” He looked back up at Cam. “I mean, if you want to. I’d understand if you never want to fight again. This has got to be horrible for you… Oh god, I’ve been so focused on myself I didn’t even realize…” Luther got unsteadily to his feet, finding it difficult to stand on the soft, uneven surface of Cam’s hand. He took a few steps towards Cam’s thumb and all but fell on it, wrapping his arms around it in the facsimile of a hug.

“Are you okay?” Luther asked, looking up at Cam with real concern on his tiny face.

Cam stared down at him. All he’d thought about up until now was how to guarantee his own survival. He’d bottled up any feelings he had about being used as a weapon, he didn’t have time to break down, he needed to get to safety and figure out what was going on. But now, in this moment of calm, with this person caring so genuinely for him, it all spilled out. Tears welled up in Cam’s eyes and spilled down his cheeks. A huge, choking sob rose in his throat.

“No,” he quavered, hands beginning to shake. “I’m not.”

[korruptbrekker]

A Deal Worth Making, Chapter 1: Summoning Struggles

Summoning Struggles  — [Next]  — [Masterpost]  — [AO3]

Rated T  —  Content Warnings: General Anxiety, Foul Language, Mentions of Major Character Death (no actual major character death) — Word Count: 2,408

@analogicalweek​ Day 1: Fear

Virgil saw the way their lips ticked upwards. He noticed how the daemon was more attentive, more alert. And shoving away all the red flags and all the many, many, many ways this could go wrong, Virgil grasped the daemon’s hand in his and shook.

—

Shit.

Virgil ran his hands through his hair, eying the summoning circle he’d put together over half an hour ago. He’d spent most of his evening pacing the length of his dorm’s living room, overthinking all the decisions he’d made that had led up to this point.

His daemonology final was due in less than 8 hours, and he wasn’t sure how the hell he was gonna do it. Sure, he had the circle all set up, but he still had a paper to write on his findings and just the thought of that made him anxious.

With one last exhale and a glance at the summoning recipe, he grabbed the matchbox off the table and began lighting the candles. He felt odd and awkward muttering infernal words beneath his breath, convinced he’d mispronounce something and screw the whole thing up.

He dropped the match on the smoke stick in the middle of the circle after lighting all the candles and took a step back, careful not to disrupt the salt barrier. He squatted down on his heels, his gut knotting like there was no tomorrow, and he waited.

Nothing happened.

All candles stayed lit, the pungent scent of lavender and sage filtering through the air as the smoke stick burned. Virgil groaned, dragging his hands through his hair and down his face. Count on him to fuck up his final project hours before was due. And sure, maybe he shouldn’t have procrastinated in the first place, but he didn’t think he would fuck up this badly.

He pulled his hands from his head, heaving himself to his feet and moving to disassemble the circle and try again. He reached for a candle, pausing when the air began to crackle.

He could feel the hair on his arms stand up within his hoodie, the back of his neck prickling. The sweetness of lavender and sage turned sour, tainted with the thick, metallic taste of magic.

He managed to stumble back just in time to miss the column of cerulean blue light that erupted from within the circle. The shockwave rattled the knickknacks on his counters, the cupboard doors shuddering and slamming against their wooden frames in protest.

A dark shadow appeared in the swath of blue, taller than Virgil by at least a foot with long, bull-like horns extending from their forehead. Panic wrapped its arms around Virgil’s chest and squeezed because holy fuck that was not a low rank daemon.

Based on the horns alone it was at least a rank 5, but knowing daemons it could easily be a rank 7. Not even Virgil’s professor was qualified to deal with a rank 7.

The blue faded away slowly, leaving only the daemon in its place. Apparently the light had warped their figure because now that Virgil was looking at them they didn’t seem any taller than he was. The horns were still there, just as menacing as they were in shadow, but at least the daemon wasn’t seven feet tall.

They were clad in a waistcoat and slacks, both a midnight blue, the shirt beneath their waistcoat that was rolled up to their elbows, only a few shades lighter than their ash-grey skin; though it was more like plating than anything else. There were sections of carapace along their forearms and face and Virgil was sure it didn’t stop there. Their eyes were voids, nebulous and deep and endless, their hair the same shade where it sat slicked back behind pointed ears.

Their head turned and the corners of their mouth shifted downwards, their thick brows furrowing. Despite not having pupils or irises, Virgil had the distinct sensation that they were sizing him up.

“Is there something you needed?” Their voice was crisp and cold, bright white fangs flashing when they parted their lips.

“Uhm—”

Virgil paused. He had an idea. A stupid, horrible, death defying idea. But if it worked he would pass the class with flying colours. And maybe get sent to the administration. He would definitely get sent to the administration. And possibly suspended. But he would pass the class. And that was all that mattered.

He took another look at the daemon, praying to Hecate and whoever else would listen that he didn’t get himself killed.

“Yeah—” He winced as his voice broke but plowed forward anyways. “Yeah, I need you to pass a class.”

There was a horrible, awkward pause. Then, “Is that all?” They looked at him like he’d just asked them to fetch him a drink of water. “You could have summoned an imp for that. Maybe, if you really wanted to, a Class II daemon. So, pray tell, why have you decided to summon a daemon noble to help you with your homework?”

Oh.

Oh shit.

“I need to prove I can manage a high level daemon for a class final.” Virgil lied through his teeth, panic clawing up his throat.

He desperately hoped that would be enough. Disappearing from the human realm and dying via daemonic torture was, surprisingly, not on his bucket list.

They leveled him with a half-lidded stare, their claws tapping along their carapace.

Click-click. Click-click. Click-click.

Virgil fought the urge to squirm under their empty eyes, determined to stand his ground. He would not fuck this up.

“Very well. I will allow you to use me as you see fit for this assignment only. In exchange you will allow me to stay with you unregulated for one year and observe your life.” They held their hand out.

“Do we have a deal?”

Virgil saw the way their lips ticked upwards. He noticed how the daemon was more attentive, more alert. And shoving away all the red flags and all the many, many, many ways this could go wrong, Virgil grasped the daemon’s hand in his and shook.

—  —  —

“You can find all the rubric information on the class website. And don’t forget, your first drafts are due on Wednesday.” Mx. Raechild waved them all off with a delicate hand, quickly retreating to their office.

Virgil stood from his seat, turning off his laptop and slipping it into his bag. “Hecate I’m ready for this semester to be over.”

“Tell me about it. Finals week is looming over my head and it’s still a month away. I don’t even have a topic picked out for my essay yet.” Patton came up next to him, gently bumping Virgil’s shoulder.

“What about the Nixie Riots? You mentioned liking those, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, I guess…” Patton glanced to the side. “But it’s just so depressing. This paper is already gonna be hard, I don’t want to hate all of it.”

“Hear hear.” Virgil muttered, following the throng of students funneling out of the classroom. “Logan can’t help because all this is too modern for him so I’m stuck doing things the old fashioned way.”

“Alone?”

“Procrastinating until the night before and then pulling an essay out of my ass and hoping that I pass the class.”

“Virgil!” Patton scolded, smacking his arm. “I’m not giving you points for that rhyming. Don’t do that to yourself. I’ll tell Janus if you do.”

“Oh dear Hecate please don’t. I don’t need both him and Logan pestering me to take breaks.”

Patton stopped, leveling him with a glare. “Virgil, breaks are healthy.”

Virgil waved him off. “Yeah, I know. I’m trying, Pat.”

He softened. “I know kiddo. Speaking of the guy, how is Logan? I haven’t heard much from him lately.”

“Just peachy. Having the time of his infernal life watching me subsist off of Monster and shitty Starbucks sandwiches.”

“Virgil!”

Virgil chuckled, shooting a reassuring smile Patton’s way. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding. He’s been fine. A little quiet now that I think about it, but he gets like that sometimes. I’m sure he’s just waiting for finals to be over so he can actually spend time with me again.”

“Well, if you two ever need a pick-me-up you know where to find me. Besides, it’s been a while since you stopped by and both Emmie and Mom miss you.”

It had been a while since he and Logan had stopped by the pastry shop. He used to use any excuse to take Logan there just to see his face light up at the pastelitos, but things had been cranking up with school and he hadn’t had much energy to do anything aside from sitting in his bed and scrolling through Tumblr for hours on end.

“I’ll try to stop by this week, cool?”

“Cool! Gotta go Virge, but I expect to see you at the shop this week!” Patton called over his shoulder as he made his way down the right hallway.

“I’ll try!” Virgil called back, turning down the right.

The walk back to the dorms was nice. The afternoon sun shone through the green trees that lined the campus sidewalk, the sounds of the city filling the air. Virgil plugged in his headphones, hair shifting as he bobbed to the beat of his music.

His dorm wasn’t far, though it was on the second floor. He walked carefully up the staircase, wary of the laptop in his bag. Sure, it was off, but better safe than sorry. He’d hate to open it up to take notes in class only to find that some internal part had been thrown loose and his whole laptop was broken.

He firmly shook the thought off as he strode through the door; Virgil had enough anxiety with school, he didn’t need to bring more of it into his house. He gently placed his bag by the door before flopping onto the couch face first.

“Shoes!” Logan called from somewhere in the dorm.

Virgil lifted his head from the cushion. “It’s my house I can do what I want!”

“It’s neither a house, nor yours, so by your logic I can tell you what to do! Now take off your shoes!”

“Fuck you!” He shot back, rolling over and hugging a knee to his chest so he could untie his laces laying down. He reared his arm back, aiming for the shoe bin by the door. The shoe arced over his head, landing effortlessly into the bin.

Thunk.

Virgil grinned. Round two. He untied his other shoe, moving his arm back and gearing up to throw. He eyed the shoe bin, silently hoping that he’d make it again. Just as he was about to throw it the show was snatched from his hand and tossed over his head, landing perfectly in the bin next to the first.

Virgil tilted his head back to glare at Logan. “That was mine.”

“I don’t see you doing anything about it.” He replied, all smug teeth and shining eyes.

“Oh you motherfucker—” Virgil scrambled off the couch, not entirely sure what he was going to do to Logan, but he’d figure that out later. Now he had to focus on catching the daemon, which was a feat in and of itself.

He chased his roommate to the kitchen, stopping when he spotted a grilled cheese sandwich sizzling in the pan.

“Aw, Lo, you didn’t have to—” Logan held up a hand, effectively silencing Virgil.

“We’ve been over this. I know I don’t have to, but I do so anyways. Besides, it’s not as if I can eat human food either way. Or rather, I can but, you it all tastes like ash to me. So let me live vicariously through you and watch you eat the food I make. A win-win situation if I’ve ever heard of one.”

“A daemon living vicariously through a human. Never would have thought of that one.” Virgil snarked as he slipped the spatula beneath the sandwich, flipping it onto a plate.

Logan just rolled his eyes, though Virgil could see the fond smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. He pulled a knife out of the knife block, quickly slicing through the sandwich diagonally. Yes he still ate his sandwiches in triangles. Adult life was hard and he took his comforts where he could get them.

“Hey, you put ham in this, too!”

Logan smiled. “I figured you’d want something nice after class. I know it drains you.”

“If you think this is nice I wanna hear your thoughts on a Michelin star restaurant.” He muttered, mostly to himself.

It was always so interesting seeing the things Logan liked. It could be anything from grilled cheese sandwiches to quantum theory. It was nice to see someone who enjoyed things without all of the social stigma that came with being human. Virgil knew daemons had their own cultural norms, but they never did care about interests like humans did. It was nice, seeing someone so free to like whatever they wanted.

“So, D20?” Logan proposed.

“Hell yes.

“Virgil.”

“What? I was excited! I don’t mind rewatching it with you anyways! Don’t judge me.”

Logan rolled his eyes, making his way towards the couch. “You’re quite the handful, you know that?”

“I’m the handful? Have you even met yourself?”

“Oh I am nothing compared to you, I can promise you that.”

Virgil hopped over the back of the couch, whole body tensing when his plate wobbled, only just catching the sandwich before it fell onto the floor. Logan gestured to him.

“Case in point.”

“Fuck you.” Virgil shoved his sandwich into his mouth, purposely not looking at Logan.

“And now you’re pouting. See, you’re just proving my point over and over.”

Virgil opened his mouth to shoot back a retort, but of course Logan chose that moment to press play on the episode of Dimension 20.

“No talking, Virgil, the episode is starting.”

Virgil slammed his shoulder into Logan’s side in an attempt to wipe the smirk off his face. All it did was pull a chuckle and a placating pat from the daemon and a groan from Virgil. It had been two years and Virgil still forgot that carapace was harder than skin.

Having, begrudgingly, accepted that he’d have to surrender this time, Virgil settled further into Logan’s side, careful not to drop the other slice of his sandwich. The daemon may have won this time, but Virgil would be sure not to let him have the last laugh.

​​Image Credit

[asexualdrago]

FNAF SB: Montgomery and Gregory

The ball fell into the hole as a number 14 glowed in illuminated lights. “Hole in one” he muttered to himself. His joints and gears felt stiff. Almost hurting at times but as a performer he had to keep up his work and make the kids happy. He waltzed over to the hole and picked his ball up to head over to the next hole but stopped when he felt something touch his shoulder pad. He jumped and snarled at them. Only to realize it was only Glamrock Chica. “Hey Chic, sorry about that.” 

Chica had her feathered hand over her chest in a way as if grabbing her chest to soothe pounding heart. “Geez Monty, what was that for?” She noticed him rolling his shoulders and stretching his neck. “You ok? You seem tense. Cheese and crackers, your wires are stiff!” Monty only rolled his eyes and shook her hand off his shoulder. “I can’t get tense Chica. I am made of metal. And what do you want? I am busy.” He growled his last sentence to her. Her response was to put her hands on her hips. Almost resembling an annoyed mother. “Don’t get an attitude with me. Vanessa just notified us that she’s bringing Gregory over again to see all of us. That’s why I came here to tell you.” She said with a glare. Monty would admit that she could be scary at times. Sure he was the strongest of the group and argue with Freddy sometimes and fight with Roxanne but there was no way he could take on Chica when she was angry. 

Some kind of “mother hen” instincts or something like that. “Sorry momma,” with another roll of his eyes. Chica just shook her head. “Look, just... try to relax and be nice to Gregory when he gets here alright? I don’t want Freddy or Vanessa hassling you later for being rude.” He merely nodded and went back to his golfing. He could feel that Chica was still staring at him. Not out of irritation but in concern over her friend. He could hear her metal feet pound against the fake grass and walk out of his golf course. He rolled his head to stretch his wires and pulled his arms over his head. “Gregory’s coming over huh?” 

He would’ve guess that the kid would have stayed away or better yet be terrified of them after what happened but the kid surprised him. He was still shy of them but he was still able to interact with them and play with them. Well most of them. The child was still timid of Montgomery. Maybe it was because the alligator was much more intimidating than the others. He was more of punk, get physical kind of guy, or gator. Taking a look into his room, many people would get an idea of what he was like, or assume what he was like. Taking aim he putted his ball. He wasn’t really the emotional type. Watching it roll towards its goal and once again, another hole in one. 

He could feel his gears tensing again. He growled in pain grabbing onto his bicep. “Time for a break.” He grabbed his ball and golf club and went to his green room to relax for a bit. Before he could he heard two voices coming his way. He turned his head over to the left to see the nightguard, Vanessa and Gregory walking together as they were talking. “I am not sure about that Greg. But you can ask them.” Vanessa told them as she ruffled his hair and went off to do her job. Leaving Gregory alone as she called Monty over to watch him. “W-what? Why? Isn’t he your responsibility?” He argued. “You guys entertain kids don’t you? Besides I have to secure the place, be nice to him alright.” And just like that she walked away. He threw his arms in the air and shouted “The hell?!” after her. “Are you serious? Our regular nightguards don’t pull this shit!”

Vanessa shouted as she was a few meters away “I have work to do!” Gregory’s shy demeanor appeared and shyly smiled at Monty. “H-hi Monty.” The animatronic nodded at him. He looked around expecting Freddy or at least Chica to watch him but none of the gang were around. He swore to himself that he’ll get her back for that.

He felt kind of out of place. When he did interact with Gregory it was very awkward as he would usually hide behind the bear animatronic or hide his face when he is holding him in his brawn arms. It was as if the kid was intimidated by him, which was no doubt in his head. Like he was going to eat him or something. Which was, in his opinion, was impossible as he had no way of swallowing no less chewing anything. Biting, sure. But that’s all he could do. He rubbed his snout and groaned as he felt his gears grind and the pain shot up his left arm. 

Gregory noticed and asked if he was ok. “Just tired kid,” he responds. He rolled his shoulders and placed his golf club back into his golf club pack. When his back was turned he felt something grab onto his tail. He jerked and turned around to see him holding his tail. Actually his was very close to him and tried holding his tail for comfort. He wondered why he was clinging to him only to hear shifting gears and what sounded like metallic laughter. He immediately knew who it was. “Son of a bitch.” He murmured. Looking at the green room entrance to see a thin, jester like animatronic. It’s fabric colors consisted of dark shades of blue and had golden stars plastered on its body. Its face plate was in the shape of a crescent moon. Along with bright red eyes. A huge grin plastered on its face. “Hiya Gregory,” it cheered. The animatronic was named Moondrop. 

“What ya want? I am in no mood for your games.” The moon animatronic giggled and said “I know, I just came to say hello~” He crept closer to Gregory in a slow playful manner. But to Gregory it was down right scary! He clung closer to Monty and tried to hide from him. Unknowingly Monty wrapped his tail around the boy and help him close. “Not in the mood, and while your at it,” He squares his shoulders to seem more intimidating. “Don’t try to pull any pranks.” “I wasn’t. Tiiiiiillllllll NOW!” Monty felt something tug at him as Gregory was snagged from tail and taken out of the green room by the sun animatronic Sunnyrise. “Hey!” He yelled as chased after them. “Monty! Help!” Sunnyrise was slightly bigger than Moondrop and carried him with slight ease. 

They jumped from metal beam to pipeline making sure his balance was on point. “Freddy!” He cried. Hoping the bear animatronic would hear him and come save him. He tried to struggle and get out of the sun animatronic’s grip but as thin as it appeared to be, it was stronger than it originally looked. “Put me down! Please!” He begged. “In a minute, lets mess with gator boy for a bit!” The sun animatronic laughed in response to Moondrop’s answer to the boy’s plea. 

He felt a bit nauseous from the frantic movements before he landed on something soft. He realized it was a pillow. A large pile of them actually. Mainly consisting of two types of styles, moon and stars, sun and clouds. The duo jumped down in front of him and the boy began to whimper as he tried to back away from them. Although no longer controlled by Vanny or that Glitchtrap character, that didn’t mean he felt comfortable with them. “MOONDROP! SUNNYRISE! WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU!? BRING THE KID BACK NOW! I MEAN IT!” He hoped that he would come to find him. He heard another voice along with Monty’s. It was Chica’s voice, “Gregory? Where are you sugar dot?” 

Gregory called out to them as he heard low growls. He heard what sounded like clanging on metal to see Monty climbing the ramp the three were on. “Monty be careful!” Chica shouted after him as she is afraid that he or Gregory would get hurt. “Coming up!” He shouted. Sunnyrise and Moondrop laughed comically and abandoned ship. “W-what the- get back here!” He reached out to snag at least one of them but they were too far out of reach. “Damn!” He looked over to Gregory. “You good?” The boy nodded. He tried to pull him over the ledge as he was, although won’t admit it, scared to fall. He hated high heights. Gregory came closer to him and grabbed his right arm to pull him up. But being an animatronic made of dense metal it wasn’t an easy task. “Don’t strain ya self kid. I’m toov heavy for ya to pull.” 

Gregory didn’t listen and kept pulling as Monty pulled himself up. Gusts of air seeping through the cracks of his metal plates. “Monty? Gregory? You boys alright?” “We’re ok.” Gregory answered. Tired from his attempts to pull Monty. “Can you get down?” “You for real? It was a hassle for me to get up here! I doubt I can climb down, no less with the kid on my back! Screw that shit!” He can hear Chica shouting angrily “Language!” Monty rolled his eyes and sighed. Falling backwards and laying his back on the pillows Gregory didn’t say anything and hid a small smile in the form of a yawn. He was actually tired. He was hanging out with Roxanne as Freddy was busy and Chica was helping him. He wanted to ask him about them having dreams or better yet nightmares but didn’t how to phrase it. He asked Roxanne and she told him she would dream sometimes but didn’t give thorough details.

“H-hey Monty?” “Yeah kid?” He thought for a minute before saying “Can you dream? Or have nightmares?” Monty sat up and looked at him. A confused expression or so it seems, appeared on his face plates. “Why ya asking?” Gregory’s face said it all. “You had a nightmare? Is that why you’re asking? What does it have to do with us?” The boy shyly nodded. Gregory fiddled with his shoelaces and said in a low tone “It was about you.” It would be an exaggeration to say that his jaw dropped. It was about him? He had a nightmare about him? Why?��“Monty! Gregory! I’ll be back with help! Don’t do anything!” 

Chica’s voice was drowned out by the awkward silence between them. He didn’t know what to say. He thought about his restless nights after the incident. The feeling of his body being controlled by a living virus. He was still there but as a passenger and watched in horror in what happened and he attempted to do. Especially to the boy. He couldn’t stop himself no matter how much he fought for control. He could hear its taunts and demonic laughter as it held him as a host till its body was complete. It still scares him. “Yeah Gregory, we...we can dream....we also have....bad dreams you could say.” The boy looked at him stunned. “You can? I asked Roxy about it and she said she would get strange dreams but didn’t explain much to me.” Monty nodded. 

“Well I wouldn’t say they are dreams...more like processed memories. Mainly what we experienced during the day and they are placed in our processors. Mainly to replay like a movie.” “So its a movie in your head?” “Hell if I know, its a guess of mine. There were even times I get weird dreams like I don’t know, like a large chicken chasing me around and pecking at me for cursing. I didn’t even think it was possible as...well...I am a machine.” Gregory giggled. “Was the large chicken Chica?” “Maybe~” He laughed. “But in all seriousness, what was your nightmare about? Why me?” Gregory took a deep breath, he won’t hurt you. He told him what he remembered. From playing golf together to Vanny possessing him with the malware and him killing him by biting down on his head. Monty stared horrified. “That’s your nightmare?” The boy nodded. Not looking up. 

“I...I didn’t realize. Jesus kid, that must’ve been scary for ya. Can’t imagine how that would’ve felt for ya.” “After that nightmare, I wanted to know if you had nightmares yourself, since you seem so...so...” “Sentient?” “Uh...I guess so.” “The gang and I even have bad dreams ourselves. I don’t understand the reasoning for it but it does happen. Sometimes its scary and we’ll forget about it as there isn’t much to it y’know. Just a fluke dream, but some are more horrifying than expected. So terrifying that even I can’t sleep.” “Monty? Do you have bad dreams and refuse to sleep? I did that when I came home...that day... I didn’t want to sleep as I was afraid to see Vanny and Glitchtrap laughing at me and taunt me, and having images of...what they did.” He shivered due to the cold and the sickening feeling of dread. He knew that feeling all too well. 

Monty noticed and grabbed a blanket he was sitting on. He guessed Gregory never saw it as he was distracted by the twins. Well since bearball isn’t here and Chica isn’t here...I’ll try to comfort him till they come by and get us down. I hope they don’t see this. He reached out his tail and wrapped it around the boy’s waist and wrapped him up in the blanket and held him in his lap. Gregory was confused and looked up at him. “I know kid. It’s not easy to confront or deal with. What happened was traumatizing for you and us. I wouldn’t blame you having nightmares after that day.” Gregory reached out and hugged the gator around his neck and nuzzled his lower jaw. “I don’t blame you either. I bet you were scared too. And I remember what Freddy told me about you all being family.” Monty was stunned. The child was actually hugging him. The one kid who was intimidated by him, was hugging him. “He did huh?” “He said I was a part of that family too. Which means that I would consider you as an older brother, Roxy an older sister, Chica and Freddy as the mom and dad.” “Well,” He ruffled his hair making his chuckle. “I guess you are our little brother eh?” 

Line Break:

Chica and Freddy managed to get Vanessa to grab the ladder from storage to help the two get down. Well, mainly Monty as they would just get Sunnyrise or Moondrop to grab Gregory and set him down nicely. “Are they alright?” Freddy shrugged. “Have you seen the twins?” he asked. She nodded no. “Nope, not after Monty chased after them.” Vanessa set the ladder and made sure it was stable. “Well wherever they are, they might get their due later.” “Gregors? Monty? You guys ok?” Roxy looked towards the platform but didn’t see anything. 

Vanessa told Freddy to hold the ladder and climbed up. “Be safe, the twins might be around to scare you.” Roxy said. “God I hope not!” Vanessa shouted down to her. When she reached the ledge, she had to hold back a laugh. Right in front of her was something she never thought she’ll ever see. It was Montgomery Gator, the big, tough brute of the group cuddling little Gregory. He was wrapped up in the big arms of the animatronic and she could’ve swore that his tail was wagging slowly. “Oh! This is adorable!” Gregory was wrapped in a blanket and his head was nestled under Monty’s chin. She reached out and took out her phone. Making sure the flash was off and taking a picture of the duo before coming down to show the others. Who would’ve known that the big gator was a huge softy sometimes? Was he going to kill for it? Maybe? Was it worth it? Oh yes it was!

[cyaneyesullivan]

listening to WAP and having thoughts...

i took my interest off petekey for a while to focus on other stuff, but everytime i listen to Fall Out Boy, the wonder and amazement spark back immediately... i’m still completely blown away (among other things) by how much Pete must’ve liked (loved) Mikey to keep up with it for so long -- or how much he feels in general. and even if the songs aren’t about Mikey (i have discussed this briefly), it doesn’t change the fact that Pete is absolutely tormented by his own emotions. it’s kind of fascinating.

with that being said, i’m in the mood to list off all the suspicious lyrics ever written by Pete that makes me go “damn, Mikey really did a disgusting number on him” or like, “poor Pete man”

disclaimer: again, these lyrics, let alone songs, might not be about Mikey, but i choose to believe so. i have to satisfy my fixation and bedazzlement on the fact that petekey highkey happened in the summer of 05. 

i’m only including my favorite songs or i’ll be here all night.

italic = my favorite lines

in no particular order:

Bishops Knife Trick (a LOT to unpack in this one): - And I’m living out of time, eternal heatstroke - Spiritual revolt from the waist down - To the places that we never should have left - I’ve got a feeling inside that I can’t domesticate, it doesn’t want to live in a cage, a feeling that I can’t housebreak - And I’m yours, ‘til the earth starts to crumble and the heavens roll away - I’m struggling to exist with you, and without you - I’m sifting through the sand, sand, sand, sand, looking for pieces of broken hourglass - Trying to get it all back, put it back together, as if the time had never passed - I know I should walk away, know I should walk away - But I just want to let you break my brain - And I can’t seem to get a grip - No, no matter how I live with it

Heaven’s Gate (some interesting elements here that describe Pete’s all-consuming yet destructive love) - If there were any more left of me, I’d give it to you (this one is just a personal favorite, not particularly related to Mikey) - Go out in the world, start over again and again, as many times as you can - ‘Cause everything else is a substitute for your love - I’ve got dreams of my own, but I want to make yours come true (another personal favorite lol) - You’re the one habit I just can’t kick

The Last Of The Real Ones (i adore this song but it leaves a lot of space for vague interpretation, so I’ll just list off my favorite lyrics that give me goosebumps when I think they’re meant for Mikey) - You are the sun and I am just the planets, spinning around you - You were too good to be true, gold plated, but what’s inside you? - I know this whole damn city thinks it needs you but not as much as I do, as much as I do - I wonder if your therapist knows everything about me - That ultra-kind of love you never walk away from - I am a collapsing star with tunnel vision, but only for you - My head is stripped just like a screw that’s been tightened too many times, when I think of you - Just tell me, tell me, tell me I, I am the only one, even if it’s not true, even if it’s not true

Just One Yesterday (oh my lord, this one lmao -- honestly the whole song has this odd vibe that it’s a pointed jab at Mikey) - Anything you say can and will be held against, so only say my name - I’d trade all my tomorrows for just one yesterday (any notion that suggests Pete is obsessed with the past is a win) - I want to teach you a lesson in the worst kind of way - I don’t have the right name or the right looks, but I have twice the heart (i just feel like maybe he’s implying he’s not a girl and that does not please no-homo Mikey) - If I spilled my guts, the world would never look at you the same way (lol) - And now I’m here to give you all my love - So I can watch your face as I take it all away

Headfirst Slide Into Cooperstown On A Bad Bet (my ultimate favorite of FOB. unbeatable. i had to put it here if only to honor it) --> i talked about it before -- there are no obvious marks of petekey here, but i made a post on it in the past

Immortals (lolol) - I am the sand in the bottom half of the hourglass (hourglass, time, past, bottom half, Pete is still waiting for Mikey, blabla) - I try to picture me without you but I can’t - ‘Cause we could be immortals, immortals, just not for long, for long - And live with me forever now, pull the black out curtains down (blocking public exposure?) - I’m still comparing your past to my future - It might your wound but, they’re my sutures (Pete’s heartbreak = big inspiration that keeps him writing lyrics therefore having a career?)

Centuries (obviously) - Some legends are told, some turn to dust or to gold - But you will remember me, remember me for centuries (they must have done super crazy shit back in 05) - And just one mistake, is all it will take, we’ll go down in history (presumably, their story must be so nuts it will end up in a massive gossip explosion) - Mummified my teenage dreams (his songs lol) - No it’s nothing wrong with me, the kids are all wrong, the story’s all off, heavy metal broke my heart - Bruises on your thighs like my fingerprints - Cause I-I am the opposite of amnesia (notable, since there is concrete evidence of their ‘lovestruck summer’ in the form of a million of his lyrics) - You look so pretty but you’re gone so soon - We’ve been here forever, and here’s the frozen proof (again, his lyrics, photographs, dramas, tweets etc)

Irresistible (honestly, the whole song lmao) - Mon cheri (i’m only putting this one down because, little story: i didn’t know about petekey when i first listened to this song, and i’m french, and when i heard this for the first time i was like, wtf, people keep wanting to use french words and end up using them wrong. well, oops. maybe the use this time wasn’t as faulty as i thought)

HOLD ME TIGHT OR DON’T - I neve really feel a thing, I was kind of too froze - You were the only one, that even kind of came close - I took too many hits off this memory (memory = joint? lmao) - Another day goes by (without Mikey?) - So hold me tight, or don’t (basically, settle or fade) - Oh no, no, no this isn’t how our story ends - I got too high again when I realized I can’t not be with you or be just your friend - I love you to death but I just can’t, I just can’t pretend, we were lovers first - Confidants but never friends, were we ever friends? (interesting point since they never really had a lasting friendship. it’s a well known fact they helped each other with their own monsters (so, confidants), but after the whole summer fiasco, their friendship was at best on and off, and even then, there’s a lot of mourning on Pete’s end. poor guy) - ‘Cause I’m past the limits, the distance between us, it sharpens me like a knife

Jet Pack Blues - I’m the last one that you’ll ever remember - And I’m trying to find my peace of mind - She’s in a long black coat tonight (someone, in a significant night, has been in a long black coat too) - Did you ever love her? Do you know? Or did you never want to be alone? (notable, Pete is questioning whether or not his ‘love’ could stem from loneliness, because this shit happens way too often than should be) - Don’t you remember how we used to split a drink? It never matted what it was - I think our hands were just that close, the sweetness never lasted, no Novocaine (i like this one in particular because it just seems to suggest that Pete will never be finished with this, and will haunt Mikey forever, either to get revenge for being left behind or relive that one unforgettable summer) - I will always land on you like a sucker punch (omg lmao) - I am your worst, I am your worst nightmare - If you knew, knew what the bluebirds sing at you, you would never sing along - Because they took our love and they filled it up, filled it up with novocaine and now I’m just numb - I don’t feel a thing for you (sure) - I’m just a problem that doesn’t wanna be solved - I feel like a photo that’s been overexposed (i wonder if it’s because of all the junk he posted on livejournal) that concludes it! of course, there are so many more obvious songs, like Fourth of July and Bang the Doldrums, but i don’t love those songs, so i didn’t include them. and side note, the lyrics hit that much harder when Patrick is the damn singer and makes everything hurt. but i’ll rant about that in another post, maybe.

(it doesn’t really matter who sees this or doesn’t -- i just wanted to put this out somewhere. petekey will forever be so interesting. the impact Mikey (or whoever Pete wrote about) had on Pete is just unbelievable to me.)

end.

[sgtbradfords]

I have a Chenford prompt for you.

Lucy gets up the nerve to ask Tim to be her partner. Tim refuses but doesn't give a real reason. Ultimately he has to confess his feelings because he knows he hurt her.

I do apologize for such the long wait, but I hope this does your prompt justice! Enjoy! :)

Lucy Chen needed to find a new partner. Nolan had finally graduated from being a boot to a P2, leaving probation and Sergeant Grey had made the decision to partner John with Jackson in hopes of making the transition smoother. He had also appointed Lucy to work as a one man show. She knew the opportunity to work solo for any officer was always there and would always be there, but she also had her reasons for wanting to have someone sitting in the passenger seat two feet away from her.

Her week of riding solo was exciting but also nerve-wracking, the doubts that maybe she wasn’t ready for this lingered in the back of her mind every morning, as she moved to sit behind the wheel of the shop. The shifts went by smoothly, but she found being by herself to be desolate, having no one to talk to or no one getting upset when she messed with the knobs of the air conditioning.

Soon, the number of shifts and off days had accumulated into over a month and to put it simply, she was miserable being by herself, which she brought up the following week when she met Jackson and Nolan for lunch.

“Why don’t you ask Bradford? He doesn’t have a boot right now.”

Lucy hesitated before speaking, playing with the fork in her hand as she pushed a piece of lettuce around the bowl. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“You wouldn’t know unless you ask.” John pointed out as he observed his friend that sat across from him.

“It’s just…” she paused. “I don’t want to work alone. After everything that happened with Caleb and Rosalind and then going undercover a few months back. I really don’t want to work alone.”

Jackson and Nolan shared a look before Jackson took the opportunity to speak. “Lucy, why didn’t you say anything? When we get back, I’ll go talk to Grey and-“

“No! This is something that I need to do.”

Jackson changed the topic, showing his friends the picture Angela sent him earlier that morning of the baby smiling in their sleep as their lunch break ended, the officers returning to their respective shops. All too soon the numbers of the clock on the dash rolled to six o’clock, Lucy parking the shop back in between the white lines in the garage, removing her things before she returned her war bag and long gun. She made her way to the locker room, changing back into her civilian clothing, securing her off-duty weapon into the holster attached to the side of her jeans before grabbing her bag and heading out.

“Hey.” She heard someone greet as she walked across the parking garage, the person joining her by her side putting a smile on her face.

“Hey. I heard you had a fun day.”

The person grumbled, “Never thought I would be running out of a house full of bats before ten.”

“I just hate that I wasn’t there to witness Tim Bradford running away. I bet that had you regretting not taking that Sergeant position.” She teased as they approached her car, Lucy shaking her head at the sight of his truck next to hers.

“You’ll never get your hands on the vest footage Lucy.” He glared before his face softened. “I’ll never regret turning that position down. I kept my word, didn’t I?”

“That you did.” She smiled, readjusting the bag on her shoulder as she stopped at the rear of her car. “I’m actually glad that I caught you, I have a question I need to ask.”

Tim turned, leaning his back against the panel of his truck as he waited.

“I was wondering if we could possibly partner up. With Grey partnering Jackson and Nolan, I discovered that I don’t like working by myself, and I know that probably makes me look weak but I feel like-“

He stared her down as she rambled, her words threatening the sides of his mouth to turn upward as he fought back a smile.

“That doesn’t make you weak Lucy.”

“Maybe not to you but to someone else…” She sighed, turning her head to look away.

“Screw what other people think, they don’t know what we’ve-“ He stopped, shaking his head as he unconsciously took a step forward. “Their opinions shouldn’t matter.”

“But they do.” She told him honestly. “So, think you can handle working with me again?”

Tim took a moment to look her in the eyes before looking away, Lucy watching as something flickered behind his eyes before it disappeared.

“I can’t.”

Lucy took a step forward, her brow furrowed as she gently let go of the bag on her shoulder, the bag hitting the concrete. “Why not?”

“I can’t Lucy.” He said to her sternly.

“You’re not my TO Tim, you can cut the attitude.” She challenged before pushing the question once again. “Why not?”

He took a step forward, his arms crossing over his chest as his demeanor changed. “I may no longer be your training officer, Officer Chen but I am still your superior.” He told her, his tone laced with warning with every word he spoke.

“Respectfully sir, I deserve an answer.”

“One that I don’t have to give you.”

Lucy’s eyes searched his before she took a few steps back, turning around as she crouched down to pick her bag up off the ground. “You know I-“ She started as she turned back around to face him, adjusting the weight of the bag on her shoulder before thinking better of it. “Have a great evening, Officer Bradford.”

Tim watched as she got into her car, slamming the car door shut as she turned over the engine. Lucy sat behind the wheel, taking a deep breath before shifting the car into reverse and then into drive, leaving the parking garage. She couldn’t believe him, she thought to herself as she pulled off the highway and into a parking lot, steering her car towards the drive-thru of a sandwich joint. She ordered, messaging Jackson about the failure that was her evening as she waited for her food.

Twenty minutes later, her emotions had calmed down as she stepped onto the elevator of her apartment building. He was being unreasonable, she had decided as she chased the straw of the drink in her right hand, taking a sip as the bag of food on her right wrist swung freely. The thumb of her left hand scrolling through the social media feed on the phone as the elevator jolted to a stop on her floor. The heavy metal doors opened, allowing her passage as she stepped off the car, pocketing her phone as she pulled the keyring from around her left index finger.

“You’ve got to be shitting me.” She cursed in disbelief as she rounded the corner. “Talk about someone second guessing themselves.”

Tim looked up from where he stood beside her front door with his arms crossed, listening to her mumble, as the sound of heeled boots he knew could only belong to one person walked across the hardwood flooring of the narrow hallway.

“Unless you’re here to give me a damn good reason Bradford, I suggest you leave.” She told him as she stood a distance away from him, sliding her key into the deadbolt.

“I’m sorry Lucy.”

Lucy snorted, rolling her eyes as she removed the key, inserting it into the lock on the handle, turning the key left as the knob turned, opening the door. “If it makes you feel any better, your apology is somewhat accepted. But that still doesn’t give me a reason as to why, you are refusing to work with me.” She told him as she stepped through the threshold, placing her bags onto the kitchen island, pulling out the cardboard container that held her sandwich, the soft click of the door quietly shutting behind her telling her that her company had followed.

Tim walked further into the apartment, only stopping once he was across from her, the quartz countertop keeping the two separated. His mouth opened and closed as the words that were on the tip of his tongue failed to convey.

Lucy proceeded to ignore him as she moved around the kitchen, grabbing a plate out of the cabinet as she placed her sandwich and fries onto the dish, grabbing the handful of condiment packets out of the takeout bag. She grabbed the plate of food, walking past Tim and towards the couch.

“I love you.”

Lucy froze mid-step at the whispered confession, her heart accelerating as she waited with bated breath for him to continue.

“I have fallen in love with you Lucy Chen and I- I can’t be your partner, not in that sense.” He told her, glancing at her over his shoulder as he spoke, their backs still to each other as he turned around. “Out of everything that I have been through, this, loving you, scares the shit out of me.”

“You’re just saying that.” She whispered with glossy eyes, as she placed the plate in her hand down onto the coffee table, refusing to turn her body around.

Tim took a step forward, his hand reaching out to gently grasp the crease of her elbow. “I’m not. I look at you, and you’re home.”

Lucy hesitantly turned, his hand falling away as her gaze found his.

“I’m not just saying it, I mean it Luce. I love you.” He told her, enunciating those three words as he took a small step forward, lowering his forehead to rest against hers. “You have annoyed me more than I ever thought was possible, but I love you and I want to spend every irritating minute with you.”

Lucy could feel his uttered confession against her lips as her nose brushed against his, her hand pressing against his chest as she moved to stand on the tips of her toes. Her lips feathered against his, their breaths mixing as she took the final step. His lips were soft against hers, a hand tentatively wrapping an arm around the small of her back as Lucy’s hand crept away from his chest and towards the back of his neck, fingers carding through the short strands of dirty blonde hair as she attempted to pull him further into her.

The touches from fingertips were gentle and light as they tested the bounds of this new development, mouths opening under the tongue of the other as the soft kiss soon turned fervent and quickly spiraled out of control.

Lucy moaned into his mouth as the hand around her waist began to drift lower, her fingers curling into the stands of hair at the nape of his neck, her lungs protesting for air as he abandoned her kiss swollen lips.

“Is that a good enough reason?” He exhaled as he looked at the woman standing in his arms, a trance-like look on her face as she pulled back ever so slightly, to catch her breath.

“What?” she asked, shaking her head.

Tim smirked. “You asked for a damn good reason for me being here.”

“You know, I don’t know… Maybe we should discuss this some more.” She smiled as she used the hand on the back of his neck to pull him back towards her.

“That,” He whispered against her lips. “Sound like a good idea.”

[willsimpforanyone]

oooh i see your requests are open!! can i ask for tonynat with a sibling dynamic?? maybe older sister!nat making sure her idiot younger brother stays healthy?

im going to spam your inbox with requests, i hope you don't mind

omg omg hi!! you are so welcome to request anything you like as much as you want my love!

we're going back to 2012, with all the avengers living in the compound

slight tw, there is mentions of pills and drugs but it's just paracetamol, and nat and tony joke about implied death bc they're both depressed bastards and i love them

-----------------------------------------

The compound was silent. It would be odd otherwise, Nat thought as she wandered the halls. The lights were usually motion activated, but Jarvis turned them off at night to not disturb those who were asleep, so she was free to walk around as much as she liked when the nightmares got to her.

Hang on. Not completely silent. Just down the hall from her, there were noises, like metal being screwed.

Nat frowned. No one else should be up. She padded her way along the hall, listening carefully for where the sounds were coming from. They led her down a flight of stairs with seventeen steps (it helped her anxiety after nightmares to count), past eight different rooms until she reached... Tony's lab.

She rolled her eyes, a fond smile playing at her lips, and she pushed open the door.

The man himself was sitting on one of the tables, a welder in one hand and some kind of small metal contraption in the others. Nat wrapped her cardigan around herself against the slight chill in the room.

"Hey."

Tony's head snapped round, only barely masking his surprise. "Hey Four-Legged Spider, what're you doing up?"

"Couldn't sleep." Nat hopped up on the table opposite him. Now that she was closer, she could see that Tony was paler than usual, his skin shiny with sweat and his hands were shaking slightly. "What about you?"

"Me neither." He clocked her slightly worried expression. "You know me, always tinkering." He waved about the metal thing in his hand. "Just a little something for Captain Liberty And Justice."

"Tony, you look awful, go to bed." She aimed a kick at his legs, but she was too far away and it was half-hearted at best.

He merely smiled. "I'm fine, get out of my lab."

"Fuck off," she smiled back, no malice behind her words. "I'm allowed to be anywhere I want. Now get your ass off the table and come with me to the kitchen, I know you haven't eaten all day."

Tony groaned, but allowed himself to be pulled off the table and walked out the lab. Nat looped her arm in his, leading him down the hallway (past six rooms) and into one of the small kitchens, designed specifically for when Tony was an idiot and didn't eat for days on end.

"Sit, idiot," Nat pushed him towards a barstool next to the counter. "I'm making you food."

"You can't cook for shit," Tony laughed, steadying himself on the stool. Nat swatted at him, and started cutting bread.

"It's just toast, even I can manage that, asshole." Nat popped the bread in the toaster, and sat next to Tony. "I wasn't kidding when I said you looked like shit, Tony. When did you last get some proper sleep?"

He shrugged, looking worse in the fluorescent lights. "What counts as proper sleep nowadays anyway?"

Nat rolled her eyes. "I'll take that as a 'definitely not recently'." She lightly punched Tony's arm. "We worry about you, y'know."

There was a pause, and the toast popped out the toaster. Nat slipped off the stool, retrieved a plate, knife and the butter from the fridge. Buttering the toast, she continued. "I worry about you. You're going to eat this, then taking some kind of medicine and going the fuck to bed." She slid the toast over to him.

Reluctantly, Tony began eating the toast. "Some kind of medicine?" He said, his mouth full. "That's vague and somewhat untrustworthy."

Nat grinned, winking. "I'm sure I'll find something for you to go to sleep for a long time."

Tony stuck his middle finger up, but grinned back anyway.

There was silence while he finished his toast, only broken when Nat took the plate away, washed it and put it back in the cupboard. She held out her arm for Tony to take, and the two of them made their way upstairs (two flights of stairs, each with seventeen steps and twenty-five rooms) to Tony's bedroom.

Nat dumped Tony on the bed, and padded over to the ensuite to rifle through the medicine cabinet. "Hey, you don't have much but you have paracetamol, want that?"

"Will it put me to sleep for a long, long time?" Tony's strained laugh followed his question, and Nat simply rolled her eyes. She grabbed the pills and filled the glass by the sink with water, carrying it out to Tony who was lying starfished on the bed.

"Get up bitch, take your drugs."

Tony groaned, but sat up, shooting Nat a grateful smile as he swallowed two of the paracetamol and chugged the water.

Nat took the glass and looked pointedly at Tony. "Now go the fuck to sleep before I make you."

"Ooo, I'm tempted by that threat, but unfortunately in order to sleep you need to get out and go to bed yourself so off you go, Cherry Bombshell, you need your beauty sleep." Tony made a shoo-ing motion with his hands, and threw himself back in the bed.

"Oh piss off," Nat grinned. Her smile softened. "Goodnight Tony."

He smiled back, just as softly. "Goodnight, Natasha."

She backed out the room, and closed the door with a tiny click. There were nine rooms between the two of them, and she counted as she walked to her own room. Her nightmare anxiety hadn't gone away, but she was more tired, less filled with adrenaline than she had been half an hour, forty-five minutes ago.

Sleep was worth another go.

---------------------------------

i very much hope you enjoyed! i love the tonynat dynamic, thank you so much for requesting!

[skylarmoon71]

Bumblebee x Reader (Transformers)- Chapter 4

“Did I oversleep again?”

You squint, raising your head from your pillow. You almost jumped at the sight of the Autobot sitting in your room.

“B-Bee!”

You covered your mouth when you realized how loudly you said that. Running to the door, you locked it before turning back to him.

“W-What are you doing, how did you even get in with no one seeing.”

Looking out the open window, you realized it was still pretty dark. You just sighed. He was sitting with his legs pulled to a side. Because of his size, and the lack of room, there wasn’t much space for him to spread out.

“I missed you sport.” you couldn't be mad after he said that. It was only a weekend and he was already lonely.

“I’m surprised Sam never notices when you sneak away. Then again he’s probably used to it by now.”

Bumblebee was just sitting attentively, looking at you with those curious blue eyes. Now that he was just staring at you, it made you a little self conscious. You hadn’t exactly prepared for his arrival. All you had on was a tank top and a pair of shorts. You tugged at the shirt, looking down at your feet nervously.

“(Y/N).” you looked up at the sound of his call. He held out his hand for you. Stepping forward a bit hesitant, you took his hand. He guided you to the spot right between his legs, and you followed, sitting down. With your back to his chest, you tried to keep your eyes forward. Your nerves were on end.

“Bee you...when did you get your voice fixed?” you needed to make some type of conversation to keep your mind occupied, that seemed like the best topic. He sounded so different when he said your name, with no help from the radio it appeared.

“Ratchet has been helping me, do you like it?” you nod, turning slightly to look up at him.

“Mhmm, it suits you.” He sounded like a regular teenager. Yet still slightly mature.

“I’ve been learning a lot of things while you’ve been away (Y/N).” you raised a brow.

“Really, like what ?”

“Like the way humans interpret things compared to us. On cybertron we form bonds through our spark. It connects us. “ He pointed to his chest.

“Physically, we don’t have a heart, so there are still a few parts that I’m trying to understand. Like pain, pleasure..” you swallowed. Was it just you or did he say that part pretty seductively.

“O-Oh, well that’s r-really cool Bee.”

Why were you getting so worked up, you were imagining things. There’s no way that Bumblebee was trying to come unto you. That was ridiculous.

“Can I ask you a question (Y/N)?”

“Yeah sure, hit me.”

“Can I touch you?” you almost choked.

“T-T-Touch me!”

His hand came down, metal fingers resting on your knee. You were so small compared to him. The thought of him touching your body didn’t scare you, more like it excited you. That’s what sort of scared you.

“Are you afraid of me?”

“N-No of course not, it’s just that I-I...well I..” you stammered, not sure how to phrase it.

“You’ve never been touched by anyone.” your cheeks burned. You weren’t sure how to deal with your embarrassment, so you just buried your face into his chest plates, nodding slowly. A deep chuckle echoed throughout the room, and hell it was definitely the sexist thing you’d ever heard.

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. I’m kind of relieved. Lately just being with you doesn't seem like enough. I can't stop thinking about you. Your eyes, hair, lips..” His tone sends you into a small stir. It's so entrancing.

“Bee..”

Where did this side of him come from?

“Yes.” you gripped at his arm. Closing your eyes.

“Y-You can.”

“I can, what?” He was obviously teasing.

“Touch me. I want you to touch me Bee..” His engine reeved slightly.

The hand that reached down and slid between your thighs had your head spinning. Your fingers were digging into the metal of his hand as you tried to remain calm. You whimpered slightly. With your already lacking clothing, you could feel everything. His fingers were cold, but the moment it touched your most sensitive area, your entire body set aflame. Bumblebee was watching, studying every little sound you made, quick breath you took. He was getting pretty heated himself. Your breathless expression was so arousing. He wanted more, needed more. His free hand groped your chest softly and you moaned out his name.

“This is incredible.” He whispers. You were shaking in pleasure with every stroke of his hand to your core. You bit down on your lip, trying to stifle your moans.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to keep it in (Y/N), I want to hear you. Does it feel good?”

It felt amazing. If only you could put that into words. You settle for a half nod.

“I love you like this (Y/N), you’re so submissive it’s adorable.”

Another helpless whimper left your lips as you bucked.

“Bee...Bee..Bee!”

You gasped, rolling unto the floor with a thud.

Looking up, your eyes were wide.

“N-No way…” you did not just do that.

“Oh shit.”

You had a wet dream, about Bumblebee.

“I’m screwed. “

That you were.

~~~~~

Waking up the next morning was a struggle. You twisted and turned in bed, and at the end, you only managed to get two hours of sleep. The blaring alarm clock on your dresser made you groan, rolling over.

“I really hate school.” This was the worst way to start Monday morning. Standing up begrudgingly, you started your morning routine, dreading what was about to await you.

~~~~

“What’s got you so cranky.” you turned to your friend, opening your eyes a bit wider and she just started laughing. “You look like you haven’t slept in weeks, what happened?”

“Had a weird dream.” There was no way you were going to tell her you had a sexual dream about your alien robot friend who you were hopelessly crushing on.

“Stop watching those crime shows before you go to sleep. I keep telling you but you never listen."

If only she knew.

With a long sigh, you gripped your bag, pulling it over your shoulder. At least school was over. You barely made it through the first period. If not for the nap you took at lunch, you would have been out the rest of the day. Walking in step with your friend, your eyes drifted to the yellow vehicle parked outside your school.

“Hey (Y/N)!”

The window rolled down, and Sam grinned at you. Mikaela was in the passenger seat, wearing a smile of her own.

“Hey guys what’s up?”

The both of you went to different high schools, so it wasn’t unusual for him to stop by every now and then.

“Bee was getting a bit impatient, so I decided to just come pick you up.” Your heart skipped. Your friend nudge your hand with a smile, in which you returned with an eye roll.

“See you later (Y/N)~” She really did remind you of your mother sometimes. You waved her off, opening the door as you slid into the seat. The door closed and Sam pulled off. The conversation was light, you added in a word every now and then just to let them know you were invested, but your mind was elsewhere. You slumped a little in the seat. Just staying awake in class was a challenge. You were exhausted.

“Can I touch you (Y/N)..”

Your eyes flew open. You couldn’t even close your eyes anymore. You folded your hands on your lap, trying to steady your breath.

“Don’t make a scene, calm down, calm down.”

“You alright back there?” Sam watched you from the rear view mirror. Mikaela turned, and you were positive she noticed the flush in your cheeks. “I...I..” you couldn’t even speak properly.

“It's a girl problem isn’t it?” Mikaela interrupted. You were confused for a second, but the look she sent you, you knew she understood what was happening somehow.

“Y-Yeah, these cramps are torture.” Sam grimaced. “Enough said. Bee, step on it.” He didn’t even question it. You smiled at Mikaela appreciatively, mouthing your thanks.

The ride went by faster, and when you stepped out of the car, Mikaela followed. “I’m gonna help (Y/N) Sam.” He nodded. “Do what you gotta do.” You could tell he just didn’t want the details. It was funny how childish he was when it came to that stuff. She kissed him goodbye.

“B-Bye Bee.” you mumbled.

“Later.” you didn’t need to be a genius to know he was disappointed. He was obviously looking forward to spending the evening with you. All that was running through your mind, there was no chance that would happen. You could barely survive a car ride, you weren’t sure you could sit through a conversation with him without those images flashing in your head. Opening your front door, you headed straight for your room, Mikaela behind you trailing silently. Inside your room felt like your own little safe space, and the moment you dropped your bag, she was watching you with a smirk.

“Okay spill, tell me everything.”

“W-What do you mean?”

“Don’t play dumb, you were blushing in the car, and I’m one hundred percent sure it wasn’t because of Sam. “

So she did realize. You were honestly praying she would assume you were crushing on Sam.

“Would you believe me if I said he’s kind of cute?”

She looked unimpressed. “Nice try, now spill. “

You fell backwards on the bed covering your face.

Mikaela’s face lit up. “Oh my goodness you have a thing for Bumblebee!”

“Shhh not so loudly!” you almost fell off the bed for the second time that day.

“You have to tell him, I can tell him if you want.”

“No! No one’s saying anything especially after that dream I had.”

Shit.

“Oh..my goodness.” Mikaela mouthed. You groaned.

“You had a dirty dream about him!!”

“AHHH!! Would you keep your voice down woman!!”

There was a whole lot of talking after that. The biggest reason behind your fear of anyone finding out was more because you thought they would judge you. Bumblebee was a robot, yet to you he just felt so human like that you barely paid mind to the rough exterior. He didn’t even have a beating heart, but he held the power to make yours go into overdrive with just a look. You were hopelessly in love with him.

How would you hide that?

[nitewrighter]

I just finished reading the pre-fall Gency argument fic that you made in response to an ask/prompt about another fic, and it’s amazing! Do Genji and Mercy make up after their argument, though? Does Genji tell Mercy more about what really happened with Moira in the Pining/Flight fic, and does he manage to explain to her why he felt he should still be stopping the Shimada clan (the part where he started to trip over his words during the pre-fall argument)? I’m so sorry for all the questions, but I loved this fic so much and would love to see them resolve their argument!

Yeah they make up, but more importantly have you ever gone, “OH FUCK I FIGURED OUT HOW TO WORK THIS FIC INTO A MAJOR CANON PLOT POINT?” Anyone?

Continuing off of this ficlet.

----

Genji lay on his narrow bed, staring at the too-high ceiling of his quarters and replaying the argument between himself and Mercy in his head as he had done so for the past few days.

I messed up.

A part of him felt like he should be used to it, after years of Hanzo telling him he was an embarrassment, but this stung differently and deeper. It wasn’t not meeting the draconian standards of the clan, it was realizing he had a perspective on death that was fundamentally incompatible with the morals of someone he cared for deeply. He glared at the ceiling as he remembered Moira’s words.

You’re finally understanding the difference between those up there, and those of us down here.

But McCree had spoken up against what Reyes had done. He wouldn’t shut up about it the whole mission. 

Well he and Angela were close so... Genji’s thoughts trailed off then, wondering if Ziegler and McCree would talk about how he and Reyes were monsters.

Even after having his body destroyed and reconstructed to this patchwork of flesh and metal, it had at least given him focus and purpose: vengeance. It was a relief from all the pain to commit himself to the destruction of the Shimada clan, to killing Hanzo, and he could have done that through Blackwatch, but now one death of someone who definitely had it coming had blocked the path. He had no way of knowing what was ahead, and he had just alienated one of the few people at the Watchpoint he actually liked talking to. But she didn’t get it, the Shimada clan had to be stopped. Hanzo had to die. What kind of world did she think she was living in? He raised his prosthetic hand and ran the thumb of his organic hand along the lines of its plates.

You’re not a weapon. I can’t let everything Overwatch touches become a weapon...  he remembered her words from the garden on a night that felt so long ago.

So what am I? Shimada Ninja? Blackwatch Agent? Assassin by another name?  Machine? his eyes trailed to his organic hand, Man?

He let his hands drop, hanging over the sides of the bed, I guess I’ve managed to screw up as every single one of those.

His morning alarm started beeping and he sighed. Cybernetics always woke him up a little too early.

After freshening up in the dormitory washrooms and dressing , Genji stepped out of his quarters and walked down the hall to the main body of the Blackwatch facilities. There were fewer bodies moving between the offices today. A significant number of office workers and agents had been either suspended or relocated to other Overwatch operations, and the remaining faces looked exhausted and grim.

It’s not just Angela dealing with the fallout of Venice... thought Genji as he walked through. He needed to talk to McCree, he decided. He wasn’t quite ready to talk to Angela yet. A part of him knew he needed to apologize, but another part of him knew an apology was worthless without a clear adjustment in behavior and perspective--and with the path before him so obscured now, he wasn’t sure what that shift would entail. Plus if anyone knew how to smooth things over between people, especially someone also from Blackwatch...

Genji’s thoughts were interrupted as he heard muffled shouting from Reyes’s office.  He looked around and saw what few agents were down in the Blackwatch offices had all chosen to give Reyes’s office a massively wide berth. One intern lingered close to the glass with wide eyes before being quickly escorted away by a more seasoned-looking clerk. The glass walls around Reyes’s office had been tinted opaque, but he made out Morrison’s muffled voice.

“---can assure you our agents and local law enforcement are doing everything they can, Gérard--”

“Don’t give me that!” Gérard was the shouter, something that sounded unnatural to Genji given how polite Gérard had always been in his previous brushes with the UN Attaché. “None of this would have happened if you had kept Reyes and his team where they needed to be!”

“We don’t have enough intel on Talon movements to know the timeframe on---”

“We have even less intel because of the shit you pulled in Rialto! Do you know how many active files I had to surrender to the UN Inquiry to keep Blackwatch from being completely gutted?!” Gérard snapped, “Talon took my wife and thanks to you I have to deal with that with both hands tied behind my back!”

“You’re not dealing with it alone--” Morrison was trying to reassure him.

“Morrison I cannot tell you how sick I am of covering for you covering for Reyes--And the fact that covering for Reyes is largely my job speaks to how much control you’ve ceded--” Gérard snarled.

“Chewing us out won’t get her back,” Reyes’s voice cut in bitterly.

“No, but you should both understand it’s one more product of your mistakes,” Gérard’s voice was thick.

Genji hadn’t realized how close he was leaning to the tinted glass of the office and started briskly walking down the hall, trying to put as much distance between himself and whatever was going down between Reyes, Morrison and LaCroix.  He heard the door slide open and shut and picked up the pace of his walk. He heard bitter muttering in French a ways behind him before hearing, “Agent Shimada?”

Genji pretended not to hear and started walking a bit faster down the hall.

“Agent Shimada!” there was a rapid clacking slap of expensive oxfords on the cement floor and Gerard suddenly caught up with him. Fast, was all Genji thought at first, I guess he was a field agent at some point-- But that trail of thought cut off as Genji took in the disheveled appearance of the usually suave and stylish Gérard Lacroix. Licks of dark hair were shrouding one side of his forehead, broken free of their usual glossy black coif. He wasn’t wearing a suit jacket or tie, his sleeves rolled and rumpled up to his elbows and his usually paper-crisp collar rumpled and wilting, his suspenders emphasizing all the wrinkles of his usually immaculate shirts. He smelled like cigarettes. Genji didn’t even know he smoked. 

“I need to talk to you--it’s paramount importance--Your dossier said Talon tried to recruit Sojiro once--Yes?”

“Um... yes?” said Genji.

“Do you remember any names from that time?” Gérard gripped Genji’s shoulders and Genji’s arms tightened at his sides at the touch, Gérard’s eyes were wide, pleading.

“Er...” Genji hesitated.

“Anything. Any name at all. Even aliases are a lead. Code names are a cypher. I can figure this out. We can get her back--we have to--there should have been demands--there have to be demands--we can’t negotiate but we can buy time--isolate the signal--” Gérard’s fingers were drumming on Genji’s prosthetic shoulder as if punching out sums on an invisible calculator. He wasn’t even looking at Genji.

“I... wish I could help,” Genji’s words came slowly to him. They felt strange, soft, helpless. He really couldn’t remember any names from that time, at least none that he could be sure he actually remembered and hadn’t just pulled out of nowhere that would only lead Gérard on a wild goose chase. For Genji, the only really memorable part of that meeting had been Hanzo had taken a shine to some Talon lieutenant and refused to tell Genji about it when he asked.  

So much for specialized Shimada intel... Genji thought a little bitterly. But Gérard stared straight into Genji’s eyes and Genji saw a flicker of heartbreaking realization in Gérard’s expression.

“....listen to me,” Gérard’s voice dropped slightly as his hands dropped from Genji’s shoulders, “I....I’m talking to a suspended agent hoping for nearly decade-old leads...” Gérard made a sound that was between a chuckle and stuffing down a sob as he pushed those dark licks of hair from his face, “I’m a mess without her.”

Genji’s stomach stung a little at the words ‘suspended agent.’ It had felt so temporary but hearing it from Gérard made it sink in as a reality with no visible end, but just as affecting was Gérard’s distress, the fact that the charming, if a little litigious, agent was suddenly up to his neck in paralyzing fear and helplessness when he wasn’t the one in danger. Genji studied Gérard for a few seconds.  

“Without.... who?” said Genji. He knew it was Gérard’s wife but wasn’t about to let Gérard know he had heard the whole exchange between him, Reyes, and Morrison.

“Amélie,” Gérard seemed to be looking through Genji then, his brow crinkled, “Talon they--I mean we’re not positive yet but--well you aren’t cleared for this yet. I shouldn’t...”

“Suspended,” Genji shrugged, “And... looking like this, I can’t exactly get off-site to talk about it.”

Gérard huffed “And... I’ve heard you’re not exactly the talkative type,” Gérard smiled a little.

“Ninja,” Genji shrugged.

“I-I think she’d like you...” His shoulders sagged, “Practical... steady... if she were here she’d probably tell me I’m making a fool of myself.”

You are and I have no idea how to help you so please let me go, thought Genji, but the smile on Gérard’s face eased him a bit. Genji wasn’t sure what to do with this feeling--helping and yet not helping. He remembered certain looks in Mercy’s face when he would talk about the Shimada clan, those hints of wanting to do something but feeling the ability to do so just beyond his reach. How often did she feel that with all of his fury? With all his grief?

“I wish I understood what was going through Reyes’s mind in Rialto...” Gérard spoke and startled Genji from his own thoughts. 

“...Antonio told him his associates would get him out within the week, Reyes... responded... practically,” said Genji.

“Practically,” a huff fell out of Gérard, “Just like in the debriefs.”

Genji’s brow crinkled. “The point of Blackwatch is to operate from the shadows. It was never about how it would be seen because it... wasn’t meant to be seen.”

“But it still has effects,” Gérard murmured, “And you still have to live with yourself afterwards.”

You still have to live with yourself.

The image of Zhihong Peh gurgling on his own blood on the end of Genji’s sword flashed to his mind. The thwack of his father hitting a fish on a rock in Shirakami-sanchi.

Make it clean. Make it quick.

“Would Amélie still have been taken if...?” Gérard’s voice pulled Genji from his memories again, but Gérard just lowered his head and furrowed his brow. “It doesn’t matter now.  have to find a new angle. I have to... she...” he lifted his chin slightly, “Monsieur Shimada. I appreciate you putting up with the ravings of a madman. I must go. Thank you.”

“....you’re welcome?”  said Genji, but Gérard was already walking past him.

Genji stood there in the hallway a few minutes longer. Amélie LaCroix had been taken. Whether or not that had happened in response to killing Antonio remained to be seen... but it was clear that the fallout from Rialto had not helped. He looked at his hands. For so long ‘practical’ had been a straight line, but now it seemed that the path he had been carving out was caving in on him. What was practical now?

Whatever you can do to help.

And where do you start?

With the people who you know always help.

----

It was late at night in the lab and Mercy was nodding off slightly, her chin in her hand at her monitor when a coffee mug gently clacked down on the desk beside her. She flinched awake and her head swung around to see Genji slowly withdrawing one hand, holding his own coffee cup in the other.

“Peace offering,” said Genji, “...if you don’t want to deal with me right now, you don’t have to. Say the word and I’ll leave you alone.”

Mercy tentatively picked up the mug and sipped at it, glaring at Genji slightly through her eyebrows before lowering the cup into her lap.

“What do you want?” she said, her voice clipped. 

“I wanted to say... I’m sorry for storming off like that and...You were right,” Genji said quietly, “Killing Antonio creates far more problems than it solves.”

There was some hope in Mercy’s eyes, but she also gave him a sort of uneasy, puzzled look.

“And...” Genji’s voice was a bit more tight, “On a... lawful and ethical level, it... was wrong.” He dropped his voice to a low mutter, “Even if he would have wormed his way out of the law.”

Mercy huffed and smiled a little. “I... I know the law also needs reforms so that doesn’t happen, so that justice can be done... but in the meantime...”

“In the meantime we shouldn’t shoot people in the face,” Genji conceded with a shrug.

“Right,” said Mercy. Her smile was a little crooked. There was a long silence then, tentative, and a little anxious. Genji leaned against the desk, wrapping his organic hand around the mug, taking some comfort in its warmth.

“Angela—I need you to understand something about me,” Genji said, not looking at her.

“Please don’t—“ Mercy started.

“Just listen. The first time the clan made me kill someone, I was 14 years old,” Mercy’s eyes widened and Genji’s knuckles rolled tight on the coffee mug, “And that wasn’t the only person I killed for them.

Mercy’s shoulders shrank inward, her eyes not meeting his.

“The clan,” Genji paused and took a steadying breath before continuing, “Worked to make me into something… no one should be. It…cultivated a way for me to see the world that very much affected my concepts of what is acceptable. What is good.” He gave a short huff. “But I don’t… I don’t want to be them. I don’t want to cause the same hurts they have caused.”

She looked at him then. That same searching look. That same ‘I want to help but I don’t know how’ look, and Genji’s stomach stung with the strange helplessness he felt when Gérard was gripping his shoulders earlier that day.

“But Blackwatch never asked me to question what the clan taught me. It just… saw I was angry, saw I was hurt, and pointed me in a certain direction,”  he huffed, “And now I’m stuck here. And I can’t do anything. And... ” he took a steadying breath, “I care about you. I care about our friendship. And I care about what you think of me. I don’t know... if I will ever be fully rid of what the Shimada clan cultivated in me... it... it feels like it only got sharper after what Hanzo did to me. It feels rooted in my very survival instincts. But I know I don’t want to be Reyes, and I don’t want to lose you, and... if what Blackwatch did caused all this hurt to all these people who had nothing to do with what happened in Rialto.. it’s true that it should be suspended.”

Mercy blinked a few times. “Do you really mean that?”

“Well... to an extent...” said Genji, “If Blackwatch still had its intel networks up...”

“Maybe we could help Gérard find Amélie,” Mercy said quietly.

“You know about Gérard?” Genji looked over at her.

“I only got the briefing a few hours ago,” said Mercy. She was quiet for a few seconds. “Genji... I... I don’t think you’re a bad person for what the Shimada clan conditioned you to do. You do scare me sometimes, but I genuinely believe, deep down, you want to do good.” 

“I scare you?” Genji lifted his prosthetic hand and looked down at it.

“Not because of that...” Mercy touched the metal of his knuckles and he let his hand drop as his eyes raised to hers, “I--I’m scared for you. I don’t want you to think you’re alone. And--and I want you to be able to have a life outside of Overwatch.” She huffed. “That’s what it does. It takes in people who have nowhere else to go and who just want to help and it takes everything they can give and you never know if it’s being used to help or to...” her voice trailed off and she was staring forward. Genji touched her shoulder gently.

“For what it’s worth... without Overwatch I would have never met you,” said Genji.

“I’m glad I’ve met you too,” said Mercy, smiling a little, “Silver linings right?” 

“Right...” said Genji.

A long pause passed between them. 

“...so where do we go from here?” said Genji, quietly.

“Well... I still have my work... I suppose this means we can spend more time together?” Mercy shrugged, “And... with Blackwatch suspended... maybe you can take some time to figure out what you want. Outside of Overwatch. Outside of taking down the Shimada clan.”

I don’t know how ready I am to deal with that, thought Genji, but he just nodded.

“So...” Genji swirled his coffee in its mug, “What are you working on tonight?”

“Well... apparently there’s been this incident at Watchpoint Pembrey,” said Mercy, glancing back to her monitor, “But it’s very confusing on, well... a physics level?”

“Something is confusing the genius Angela Ziegler?” Genji pulled up a chair, “Tell me more.”

Mercy snickered a little. Then started telling him.

[jessiebanethedragon]

Grecian Juniper (Hunter x reader)

this was a request that came in as a message, not tagged becasue i’m not sure if they wanna be annon or not but love ya’ll either way! 

oxoxox jessie

You had to admit, this time you’d out done yourself. Swinging your lightsaber around as it deactivates leaving the feeling of bubbling pride in your chest. Was this technically an abuse of your abilities? Maybe. But Crosshair has been an ass since you last left base, and it was time for a little payback. Thus bringing you to this moment of a perfectly sculpted “I ❤️Hutts” onto the backplate of his armour. Yes, your lightsaber had many uses indeed. 

Working with Clone Force 99 did have its perks, Tech, Wrecker and Echo were lovely. Reuniting with the trooper after the techno union was a flurry of tears, happiness and a vow from you to never leave your best friend's side again. And then there was the sergeant. With his tousled hair, tattooed face, and a voice that had you buckling at the knees every time he said your name. Hunter made being a jedi very difficult. 

“He’s gonna be pissed.” The man in question said, walking past your work of art as he re-ties the red bandana. 

“He was such a nerf herder all flight.” You say with a sigh, still exhausted from having to put up with a very moody Crosshair. Your cheeks flush when you hear Hunter chuckle in agreement.

“Maybe so, but you know he’s going to be one hundred times worse now.” Hunter calls to you over his shoulder as he wanders  into the cockpit and away from your shenanigans. Leaving you to force down the warm fuzzies in your chest and hide the childish smile on your face. 

“Kriffing Jedi!!” Your face falls when you hear the shouting from inside the  Havoc Marauder. The four of you are standing plantside on Kashyyyk for a recon mission, waiting for the sniper outside in the fresh air. Tech narrows his eyes at you while you suppress a small giggle. 

“I have no idea what he is talking about.” You say, hoping to cover your tracks. 

“Sure, as if you’re the order's golden child.” Echo scoffs with a smile, he may look different still, colour slowly returning to his face and hair that's now lighter, but the smile is still his. Telltale domino squad smirks and laughter that take you back to the barracks late at night. 

“SARGE!” You hear Crosshair shout as he stops down the landing pad, armour in one hand and a furious look on his face. Hunter sidesteps the angry sniper as he beelines for you, shoving the plate into your face. Wrecker catches a glimpse and doubles over in laughter, tech and Echo lean on each other to giggle off to the side. 

“Oh woah, looks like it got scratched…” You say, dramatically pretending to be shocked. Murmuring about how it could've happened and looking over to any of your friends for help. 

“You’re going to regret this.” Crosshair seethes out through his heaving breath. 

“I didn’t do anything!” you exclaim, still playing dumb. “I was with Hunter!” You gesture to the sergeant hoping he will cover for you. He turns away not wanting to be involved, but you catch the smallest of smiles. 

“Oh you wish.” Crosshair spits, side eyeing the leader of the Bad Batch. All at once, you stop smiling. 

“And what's that supposed to mean.” You grit out. He wouldn't. Crosshair wouldn't. Of course the sniper knows about your feelings, he’s too damn clever, but even he knows there's lines. And this is definitely one of them. 

“Maybe if you weren't so hopelessly in love with him you wouldn't be such a bitc-”

“Crosshair!” Hunter shouts, louder and angrier than you’ve ever heard him, “Stand. Down.” with one last look at your shocked face, tears beginning to form in your eyes, his face softens. He knows he’s gone too far, unknowing of how deep the feelings really went. 

“Ca'tra…” He begins an apology, the use of the nickname, your nickname of the brilliant night sky, shakes you out of your trance. And without another thought, you take off into the dense forest. 

You run until the panting breaths are because of physical exertion and not a panic attack. You decide that it's unlikely Hunter will report you,so your rank as a Jedi won't be ruined. Explaining the sudden need for a transfer will be harder to pull off. 

And then there's Echo. you promised not to leave him, ergo you have to stay with the Bad Batch. You’re so unbelievably screwed it’s almost funny. The air is almost still in this part of the forest, trees packed next to one another. Green melting into green as leaves interconnect and block out the sun. 

Let go of your feelings. 

Logic of your Jedi master rings in your ears, but the anxiety seems to be louder today. Just thinking about going back to the ship brings tears to your eyes. But it is inevitable, so perhaps you’ll swallow the rising bile, grit your teeth and just deal with it. 

“Ca’tra!” Echo’s call resonates through the forest, he must have been the one to take off after you, your heart falls knowing it’s not Hunter. Then again, you  never held out much hope for requited feelings anyways. 

“Ca’tra!” That's Tech’s voice, great now you’ve got two commandos trying to track you down. And considering you’re not ready to face anyone yet, you turn on your heel to take off again. Coming face to face with the blunt grey plastoid of the sergeants armour. You jump back with a soft gasp.

“Senses need re-tuning?” Hunter asks with a raised eyebrow, you're rarely caught off guard. You open your mouth but the vocal cords don’t seem to co-operate, so instead you’re left to stand and gape. Eyes flickering to him for the smallest of moments before finding comfort looking at his boots rather than his face. 

“You know he’s a shit.” Hunter says, filling the silence with small talk. expecting some smart reply and a smile from you.  Instead You shift your weight from foot to foot and pick at the dirt on your clothing. You hear him clear his throat with a cough, but you still don’t look at him, transfixed by the ground, picking at the dirt on your hands now. Maybe a little too aggressively as his hand comes to pull it away from your reddening skin. 

“You’ll hurt yourself.” He states, flipping your smaller, softer hands around, looking for other irritated areas. Thumbing each one over gently with a huff of disapproval before his switches to your other hand. Giving it the same treatment. 

“Need to take better care of yourself.” He murmurs as he finds a particular bad spot. Watching as you move your head to stare and a new patch of ground off to the side. 

“ ‘Kay you’re starting to scare me Ca’tra, say something.” Your heart hops a little at the sound of genuine worry in his voice. 

“Sorry.” You whisper, it’s the easiest thing to say. 

“You don’t need to be.” Hunter’s deep voice hums, as his hand makes it way to your elbow, coaxing you out of the hunched position you didn't even realize you’d gone into. 

“Doesn't matter.” you sigh, looking up at the sky letting the tears fall back into your eyes. 

“It does to me.” He tells you firmly. Rough but warm fingers pull your face to meet his, so you squish your eyes closed. Funny how the instincts take over - if you can't see it, it’s not there.

“Don’t like seeing you upset.” Hunter moves his hand, sensing he overstepped. The other refuses to move from your elbow though. 

“Sorry.” you whisper again, letting out a shaky breath unsure if his presence is helping  or making it all worse. 

“I care about you.” He admits slowly, not to you specifically, but to the greenery around the two of you, like he’s not really talking  to you at all, but you’re still able to hear him. 

“It’s not the same.” You say quickly, trying to escape the conversation that’s about to happen. You know the difference between caring about someone and loving them, and the last thing you want is for him to tell you that.

“Yes it is.” He says it so quickly, you think he didn’t even mean to say it out loud. Hunter’s dark hair is falling around the bandana as he looks at you, backpack forgotten in his rush to find you, senses as ignored as they can be. Gently touching your foreheads together, he repeats himself.  “Yes. it is.” the smallest panicked noise escapes you as you breathe, closing  your eyes  as his other hand comes to grasp your neck softly. While the one on your elbow sneaks it’s way to your waist. As gentle as possible.  

He’s giving you a chance to run. Your brain realizes with shock. Hunter is giving you a chance to turn and bolt again. Exposing himself  in the only way he knows how, eyes closed, gentle touches, and the opportunity to pull away from hands that have never known love. 

Except this time, you don't want to run. 

The sigh of relief that leaves him when you wrap your arms around his neck is monumental. And immediately his hold tightens, crushing you into the armour in a desperate attempt to feel your warmth through the cold metal. One hand grips your tunic with all his strength and the other buries itself in your hair. 

You press your face into the gap where tan skin disappears under the top of his blacks. Feeling the prickles where scruff is growing in, and if you try hard enough, maybe you feel where his tattoo starts. 

“What are we going to do?” You cry into his shoulder, this isn't allowed. The two of  you are breaking every rule imaginable. Jedi attachment, Clone attachment, internal fraternization, breaking orders, disobeying line of command, and probably about a million more. 

“It’s okay ner cayre.” He says stealing the anxiety driven breaths with a kiss sweeter than spice. 

“I've got you.”