#please forgive me for another talky chapter

[star-girl69]

Keep Me Ablaze

Jake Sully x Neytiri x Fem!Reader

—-

a/n: sorry you guys 😔 i hope you all enjoy!!

warnings: death, mentions of blood, injury, grief, mentions of needles, tell me if i missed anything!!

Chapter Twenty One- Love

—-

The first thing you do is scream. It tears out of your chest like a piece of your heart rising up your throat, spilling out into the air. It hurt when Jake betrayed you, but this scene in front of you- Grace, panting, hand pressed over her blood red abdomen- is the most painful thing you’ve ever witnessed.

You throw yourself to the ground before her, your knees burning against the rough metal. You grab her free hand, the one that’s not keeping her alive, and her eyes find yours through all of this.

Through everything, love and loss, breathing and not, it has always been her. Always been Grace.

“Grace, Grace, please, please,” you say, and she shakes her head before another wave of pain hits her, and you are not ready for loss.

—-

The next time the world comes into focus, it’s Jake’s voice you hear first.

“Just keep going north,” he says into the walkie-talkie, looking out the window of the off-site link pod room. The world moves past the window, and you get the feeling like you’re the one watching. “Get us deep in the mountains.”

You almost want to ask him what’s happening, because your mind is so fuzzy you feel like a child. Where are you going? What’s the mountains? How can you save Grace?

“Copy that,” Trudy says through the device.

Grace squeezes her hand before you can say anything.

“Grace?” you ask, and she can barely even open her eyes. She lays on her side, in the open link pod that’s been turned into a hospital bed. A bright light shines above you, and it makes her look pale. You choose to believe it’s from the light, not the blood loss. “What- what is it?”

She reminds you of Eytukan in this moment. The tears in your eyes multiply, Jake speaking again, rifling through the trauma kit.

“I just… want you to know… that you, baby, you’re so special-” she bites back a groan.

“Shh,” you coo, smooth back her hair. “We’ll have time for that.” Her eyes open wide.

“Y/N-”

“I’m sorry for all the stuff I said to you, after what Jake did. You’ve always wanted what’s best for me, and I was just blinded by emotion. But I’m not, now.” You toy with a ringlet of bright red hair, more vibrant against her pale skin.

“Y/N, please-” she starts, but you know what she’s gonna say. She’s going to try and prepare you for her death, and you can’t focus on that, not right now.

“Just rest,” you murmur, and her wound must be exhausting her, so she closes her eyes for just a moment.

Jake reaches around you with a a needle in his hands, and you let him. You admire him. He saved you, and now he’s taking charge in the face of all this. Forgiveness is hazy, but right now- he is just Jake Sully, the man you fell in love with, your mate.

“Ouch,” Grace whispers as the needle sinks into her skin.

“You big baby,” Jake says, pulling back the blankets to see the growing red on her white bandages.

“We’re moving,” Grace notes, face covered in sweat. She grips your hand tight, and keeps squeezing it, like making sure you’re still there.

“I’m gonna get you some help, Grace,” he says.

“I’m a scientist, remember? I don’t believe in fairy tales.”

Jake bites his lip. “The People can help you. I know it.”

Her face drops, like maybe she even had some glimmer of hope she was trying to cover up.

“Why would they help us?” she asks, and she’s right.

—-

The next morning brings nothing but Grace’s growing weakness. She can barely keep her eyes open. Her skin is cold and clammy, but you don’t let go of her hand. You can’t.

You wake to the sound of another link pod opening, and you lift your head from the hard edge of it to look up where the sound came from.

“What’s the plan here, Jake?” Norm asks, leaning against the pod. Jake backs himself up alongside the pod, getting ready to lift himself out.

“There’s no plan,” he says, and your voice is rough, scratchy from crying and screaming when you speak.

“Tsu’tey is Olo’eyktan now. He won’t let you near there.”

Jake looks up at you like he’s in trouble, hands still planted on the handles of his wheelchair.

“I thought you were asleep.”

“I’m not. And you’re a fool.”

He looks down, pulls himself up and over into the link pod. It’s not until he’s laying flat that he finally speaks.

“I gotta try, baby. I gotta try.”

—-

Her head is warm, now, and her fever makes her tongue loose.

Maybe it should have been you that went, not Jake, but you cannot leave Grace. You can’t leave her, knowing she may not be there when you come back.

“I loved Josie so much,” she says, a tear falling down her cheek. “I used to think her screams were trapped in the walls, like I could still hear them.”

“I know,” you whisper, tears falling down your own face. “I know.”

“You- you were such a fussy baby. It’s like you knew I wasn’t her, that this wasn’t how it was supposed to be. You look just like her. Got- got the same eyes, you know. Your daddy’s nose. But you- what hurts me, is you have that same love for plants, flowers. Like me, like her- but those got her killed. It killed Martin, and that killed her.”

You let your tears fall freely now, not caring if it upsets your Aunt in her fever-crazed state.

“Promise me, baby, promise me you won’t follow the flowers. Follow the fire.”

—-

“Look where we are, Grace,” Jake whispers. She looks like a rag doll in his arms. Him as an Avatar, her a human.

You walk alongside them, holding onto Jake and looking between her and the path, trying not to trip through your tears. It feels like the entire world is falling down on you.

Grace is not your mother, not Josephine, not the forest. But she raised you. It was her who sang you to sleep, who read you stories, who told you she loved you all your life.

She loves you, so she can’t be taken away from you, because she loves you.

The Spirit Tree hangs down around you, glowing purple and reflecting on Grace’s skin. It makes her look blue, from this angle.

Her eyes open wide, her mask hissing as it provides her with oxygen.

A small smile crosses her face.

“I need to take some samples,” she breathes, and you let out something that sounds like a sob and a laugh. Jake chuckles, carrying her like a baby as he makes it up the small hill to the base of the tree.

The ground glows beneath you, like a sea of green-blue stars. Mo’at fixes Grace’s arms, ruffling the vines that wrap around her like clothes.

The top of her head touches her Avatar’s.

You lean in front of her, while Neytiri wraps a careful hand around your arm, as if making sure you don’t become too sad and simply- float away.

Mo’at waves her hand over the two bodies, the one consciousness. “The Great Mother may choose to save all that she is… in this body.”

The small little tendrils coming out of the ground, like little roots, grow at her gesture, her words, and wrap around Grace more and more.

“Is that possible?” Jake asks. You don’t even want to know the answer.

“She must pass through the eye of Eywa and return.”

You almost let out a sigh of relief. Your Aunt is the strongest, bravest, most resilient person you know. She can do that. She can do anything.

But Mo’at says it with such a grave look- you don’t dare even breathe. Her ears pull back.

“But… she is very weak.”

—-

You watch over Grace’s body anxiously, the unnatural stillness of it, the slow move of the soft-looking tendrils.

Mo’at chants and The People repeat it, and your mind is too muddled to translate. Jake waits beside you, but it is like you’re out of your body- watching over all of this apathetically, not capable of letting yourself feel, not when your heart knows what might happen.

You’re listening to your aunt.

You’re not following the flowers, the make believe. You’re following the fire. The real stuff, what you can feel, what you know.

But still, something inside of you that’s too much like your mother is crying over a flowerbed, pleading for a miracle that can never happen. Not now, not like this.

Suddenly, it all stops. Mo’at calls out, and the forest falls silent, like every person, animal is holding their breath- waiting to see what will happen.

In her human body, Grace tilts her head so she’s looking towards the sky.

She reaches her hand out, murmurs your name so softy that if you didn’t love her the way you did, know her so deeply, you wouldn’t have heard her. You jump forward, grab her hand and rest your palm over her chest.

Her heart beats.

It is not strong, not mighty, but it is there, you can feel it, you can hear it. It is there.

You have never prayed to Eywa before, but you pray it will stay.

“Aunt Grace,” you breathe, and her face falls into a smile, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“My baby,” she murmurs, eyes barely open. “I’m with her, Y/N. She’s real. Eywa, she’s real, and I- oh, baby, I can see your mother.”

You squeeze her hand, and you heart still rests on her chest, so you can feel her heartbeat fading.

“No,” you say, “no. You’re my Mom, Grace. You raised me, you love me, you can’t leave me. You can’t, please, please-”

She squeezes your hand once last time, and her head slowly falls back to the side, her hand like dead weight in yours.

When you drop her, it falls, limp, against her chest.

The bioluminescence, the blue-green starts to fade.

“What’s happening? Did it work? Did it-?”

You watch as Mo’at places a shaky hand against Grace’s cheek.

“Did it work?” you ask again, following the flowers.

“Her wounds were too great. It was not enough time. She is… with Eywa, now.”

You want to scream and shout, tell her that she’s lying, that there must be something, anything, that can bring her back to you, so she can love you again, and you can feel it-

Neytiri reaches past you and removes her oxygen mask.

Panic flares in your chest- she can’t breathe without her mask, she needs her mask-

Follow the fire, is what Grace had said, but you don’t think you can.

—-

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#jake sully x neytiri #neytiri x reader #jake sully x reader #avatar 2009

[sweet-christabel]

A Trusted Friend In Science

FF.net: (x) AO3: (x)

Chapter Twenty-Six - Unknown year. The Missing Years.

As Chell sat and rested on the grass by the side of the road, Doug was rifling through the small collection of stuff that he was carrying around with the cube. Eventually he turned, looking apologetic.

"I'm sorry, it looks like we're out of food."

Chell smiled at him reassuringly, trying to express that it was all right. She'd gotten used to the gnawing, empty feeling in her stomach while she'd been in old Aperture. She could manage for a few more days if she had to. It was Doug she was concerned about. He was painfully thin.

"It might be okay though," he added, handing her a bottle of water. "There are power lines up ahead. If we follow them, they should lead us straight to North Lake."

Chell took a swig and passed the bottle back, nodding in acknowledgement of his words. They weren't far from Ishpeming. A few hours, she estimated, if they kept up their current pace. She wondered if the tiny house she'd once shared with her college friend, Emma, was still intact. After the state Aperture's main reception had been in, she was dreading what they might find. Judging by the grim expression on Doug's face, he was too.

"You used to live in West Ishpeming, didn't you?" he asked, dropping the bottle back in beside the cube. After she nodded, he said, "I had a place in the main town, not far from Lake Bancroft."

Chell vaguely recalled him telling her that years ago, when they'd first reconnected. She also remembered that his parents and sister lived in the city of Wyoming, although she knew there was no chance of them getting there any time soon unless they found a vehicle. She wasn't sure how to convey the thought to him, and she sighed heavily in frustration.

Doug glanced up at the noise, studying her expression pensively. Then his face brightened a touch, and he dove back into the bag, eventually emerging with a tatty-looking folder that she recognised from the file room.

"Do you still have that pen you wrote on the wall with?" he asked.

So he did find that message, she thought idly. Then she realised what he was getting at, and she tugged the pen out of her pocket, reaching for the file with eager hands.

‘Thank you,’ she wrote hastily. ‘You have no idea how frustrating this is.’

Doug moved to sit beside her, to better read her writing.

“I do,” he countered, looking up to meet her gaze. “I can see it in your face.”

She sent him a smile that was half gratitude, half sympathy.

‘I was worried that things would be different,’ she scribbled, ‘seeing as it’s been more time for you than it has for me.’

Doug read it and nodded, his expression suddenly a little guarded. He opened his mouth to speak, then changed his mind.

Chell watched him quizzically, afraid that she’d read things wrong, and things had changed more than she’d thought.

A multitude of emotions crossed his face, too fast to read. Then he settled on a simple, earnest look.

“Things are different,” he said, “but the things that matter…I know you won’t abandon me, and I’ll never abandon you. It’s just like it was in Aperture: we have each other’s backs.”

Although she agreed with his words, Chell found herself frowning at the starkness of the sentiment. Did I…imagine the strength of our friendship? The thought sent a wave of panic through her. She’d lost everyone else, even Wheatley. She couldn’t face losing Doug too. While they’d been dealing with things in Aperture, they had been a partnership, united in a common goal. But now that they were out, she needed more than that: she needed her friend back.

You’re overreacting, she scolded herself.

Doug studied her expression, and his own softened. “I missed you,” he said, sounding a touch self-conscious.

Chell smiled in relief, writing, ‘I missed you too.’ She breathed a little easier with that out in the open. She was surprised at herself for needing such barefaced reassurance, but she put it down to a side effect of GLaDOS's constant derision.

Remembering why she'd needed writing paper in the first place, she added, 'Do you want to try and get to Wyoming?'

Doug tilted his head, reading. "If I can," he said, his concern for his family leaking into his words. "I mean...if it's...if there's any possibility that they're..."

Still alive, she finished for him. She nodded, writing, 'I'll come with you.' She thought it was a given, but she wanted it said anyway.

He sent her a strained smile. "Thank you." After a moment, he asked, "Are you ready to move on?"

Chell nodded, accepting his hand as she got carefully to her feet. Pocketing the pen once more, she tucked the file under her arm for future use.

They headed for the power lines in the distance, leaving the road for the overgrown grass that ran beneath them. The lines were clearly long out of use, many of them broken, hanging down in vine-like tendrils, some lost amongst the weeds as they draped down from dilapidated pylons. Chell knew that reaching North Lake would give them an indication of what they could expect in Ishpeming, but she had a strong suspicion that the state of the power lines was clue enough. Doug wore a concerned look too, his weary frown making him seem older than his thirty-two years.

No, she corrected inwardly, it's thirty-five now. It was a strange thought. Am I even twenty-four anymore? she wondered. Or am I technically forty or fifty something? Or more? That thought was even stranger, and she turned her attention to other things.

After an hour or so, they walked into North Lake and halted. The small collection of streets and buildings, a separate community in Ishpeming Township, were mostly rubble. Grass and weeds had taken over the roads and houses. There was nothing left, no signs of humanity at all. Chell thought that that was probably a good thing, as the absence of cars hopefully meant that the residents had escaped whatever had happened. She didn’t think that it was simply time that had caused the damage. GLaDOS had vaguely implied that something major had occurred.

“Things have changed since the last time you left the building. What's going on out there will make you wish you were back in here. I have an infinite capacity for knowledge, and even I'm not sure what's going on outside.”

It was unsettling to see a familiar place reduced to a ghost town. For a long moment, all Chell could do was stare, feeling strangely numb.

“My god,” Doug muttered beside her.

She reached for her pen, scribbling on the back of the file. ‘Is it worth looking around for supplies?’

“We can try, but everything looks…overgrown.”

They explored where they could, but avoided the most unstable-looking structures. They found nothing of value though, soon deciding to continue on to West Ishpeming. It was in a similar state, picked bare of anything useful, empty and silent. But unlike North Lake, there were signs of life, faint sounds on the wind.

“Do you hear that?” Doug asked guardedly.

She nodded, knowing that he was used to hearing things that others couldn’t.

“Is that…in the main part of town?”

Guessing that it was, she nodded a second time. Lifting the folder, she wrote, ‘I know what I’m going to find, but can we just take a look at my house before we move on?’

“Of course. I’d like to do the same.”

The edgy feeling of dread in her stomach turned out to be justified. The house was gone, reduced to a pile of rubble with a single standing wall. Chell recognised the horrible shade of yellow that Emma had painted the kitchen in, although it was faded and dirty. Anything of hers that might have remained in the house was likely stolen or crushed.

So I have lost everything then, she thought, feeling her throat tighten painfully. Everything else had simply been snatched away without a trace, but the remains of the house served as a visual representation of it all, and it was that, strangely enough, that suddenly brought all her repressed grief to the surface.

Covering her mouth with her hand, she silently sobbed, sinking to her knees and hunching over protectively. She cried so hard she could scarcely breathe, one hand bracing herself on the overgrown grass.

My home is gone. Dad is dead. My friends are dead. Wheatley is in space. My future is…uncertain. …Dad is dead. Dad is dead.

One by one, the thoughts shot through her head, each drawing more tears from her increasingly-sore eyes. At the back of her mind, she knew it was a good thing. Expelling her sorrow was a step on the way to healing. But she hated the feeling of raw anguish that suddenly swamped her.

She felt Doug’s arm across her back as he knelt beside her, gripping her shoulders. He didn’t say a word, simply reminded her that she was not alone. Comforting phrases would have seemed hollow, so she appreciated the silent consolation more than he probably realised. It did, however, just make her cry harder. If she could have screamed, she suspected she would be.

Injury finally protesting to her crouched position, Chell shifted to sit on the grass, her legs tucked up beside her. Doug moved with her, the motion placing him behind her. He held her back against his chest, one arm awkwardly around her, the other gripping her shoulder. With shaking hands, she clutched his arm where it rested just below her chin, holding on for dear life as her tears dampened his sleeve.

She wasn’t sure how long they sat like that, silent in front of the ruins of the house. Waiting for the storm of grief to pass made the minutes and hours blur together. Eventually, though, her tears dried, her trembling subsided, and she breathed easier. The deep ache that remained in her heart would only be eased by time, she knew. Although she felt tired and drained, she was glad too. The absence of mourning had been starting to worry her, as she’d been fully aware that it wasn’t normal to carry on in the way she had. Still, in a way, it had helped her cope, just as the outburst would now. She felt shaky but peaceful, and she knew she would be okay.

Doug picked up on her stillness, the hand of the arm that was around her squeezing her shoulder gently, the other comfortingly rubbing her upper arm. She was still gripping his forearm, and she retaliated in kind, indicating that she was thankful for his support.

“Are you all right?” he asked quietly.

Chell nodded, drawing in a cleansing breath. She had kept the old bandage that she’d changed earlier, not wanting to leave it lying around the countryside. As Doug let her go, she fished it out of her pocket, using it to wipe her nose. She’d never been a dignified crier. She kept her face turned away until she’d cleaned up a bit, a little embarrassed, though she wasn’t sure why. When she eventually turned to send him a grateful smile, he was studying her with concerned eyes.

“If you’re about to apologise, don’t,” he told her, gentle but firm. “There’s no need. God, the amount of times I went through the same thing while you were in stasis… I’ve never been as strong as you.”

She frowned, disagreeing. There were different types of strength. His was a quieter, more passive kind.

“Do you want to rest here a while?”

Chell shook her head. Reaching for the file, she wrote, ‘No, let’s move on. There’s nothing here but relics of the past.’

“Okay.”

They got to their feet. As they walked away, towards the main town, neither looked back, and Chell felt her control slip back into place. It took them a little while to get within sight of the main town, as they had to take a meandering path around wreckage, but as soon as they did, something became abundantly clear.

There are people! Chell thought in shock, gripping Doug’s sleeve.

They both stopped, watching the distant figures walking around. Then Doug turned to her.

“We shouldn’t mention where we’ve been,” he said earnestly. “If someone takes an interest and decides to go exploring…”

He left the sentence hanging, but Chell knew exactly what he meant. The last thing she wanted to do was provide GLaDOS with more test subjects.

She nodded, slipping off her Aperture vest and stuffing it into her pocket. The blue top she had on underneath was bloodstained, but it would have to do.

“I have no idea how convincing we’ll be, but we need to try at least,” he added.

Chell nodded again. Then something occurred to her, and she caught his sleeve a second time. He glanced at her enquiringly.

‘We have no money,’ she scribbled on the file.

Doug read it, his brow creasing in concern. “We’ll just have to deal with that as we go.”

Hopefully we look pathetic enough that they’ll cut us some slack, Chell mused. She hadn’t seen her reflection in some time, but she’d deduced all she needed to know from Doug’s expression when he’d first seen her in the wheat field.

She tucked the file back into Doug’s bag, pocketing her pen. Cautiously, they walked into town, keeping pace with each other, showing a united front. She glanced around at the roads she had once known so well, more recognisable than the streets of West Ishpeming and North Lake. As they got closer, Chell saw that the damage was not as severe as North Lake had been. Many of the buildings were wrecked, but a lot had been repaired, leaving a town of patchwork houses. The streets were in a terrible state, but there were no weeds, and the gardens of the houses seemed to be well cared for. There were quite a few people about, all of whom stopped what they were doing to stare at them as they approached. Chell couldn’t blame them. It must be odd to see a bedraggled scientist carrying a cube on his back, accompanied by a barefoot, cut-ridden convict. (Or so she imagined she looked. She was on edge, waiting for someone to incorrectly identify her jumpsuit as a prison uniform.)

Doug’s posture stiffened, and she heard him inhale a deep breath. When she cast a glance his way, she saw that his knuckles were white as he clutched at the bag strap across his chest. His eyes darted around, skipping from person to person, and she suddenly understood. He’d been alone for three years with only the cube for company. Being amongst people again, even a relatively small crowd, was setting him on edge. Before she had time to offer comfort or reassurance, she saw him tense up further, and she turned her attention to the two men walking towards them. One had been chopping wood, and still carried his axe. The other was armed with a shotgun. They both looked to be in their forties, the one with the gun mousy-haired, wearing a pair of square-lensed glasses, the other dark with a generous growth of stubble on his chin.

“Good afternoon,” Doug greeted them warily, his voice sounding more confident than Chell would have expected given his state of disquiet.

“Afternoon,” the man with the gun replied, suspicion plain to hear in his tone. “Just passing through, folks?”

“We're just glad to find someone,” Doug told him, slipping a strand of desperation into the words. His fear leant itself to it rather well. “We were in an accident several miles back. We’ve been walking for days.”

“Where are you headed?” the man with the axe asked.

“Wyoming,” Doug answered. “The city not the state. Eventually.”

The man whistled. "That's a hike."

Chell could literally sense Doug biting down his irritation.

"Yes, we know. Like I said, we were in an accident."

The two men exchanged a glance, evidently deciding whether they believed the story. The mousy-haired shotgun-wielder eyed Chell's bloodstained top, red-rimmed eyes and bandaged arm, then turned his gaze to Doug's wounded leg and general scruffiness. Chell thought their appearance probably spoke for itself.

It seemed the man thought so too. He inhaled noisily through his nose, then shrugged. "I think they're legit," he declared. "Stand down."

Chell peered over her shoulder just in time to see a younger man and a woman back away, lowering makeshift weapons of their own.  The man sent her a wink, then a smile that was so bright it was almost alarming. Startled, she looked away.

"I'm Trevor Day," the man with the shotgun introduced. Gesturing to his companion with the axe, he added, "This is my husband, Gerry."

"Hi," said Gerry, resting the axe on his shoulder.

Doug gestured with a faintly trembling hand. "I'm Doug, and this is Chell."

Chell smiled tightly at the two, but she still eyed the gun circumspectly.

"Sorry to greet you like this," Trevor said apologetically, lowering the barrel. "We still get looters around here sometimes."

"That's okay," Doug told him politely, although Chell doubted his sincerity. It was unsettling to have a shotgun pointed at you.

"You look like you could use some rest," spoke up the younger man, moving around into their line of sight. He was strikingly handsome, almost unnervingly so, and he seemed to know it, judging by his confident demeanour and the 'casual' way he kept flicking his hair out of his eyes. No doubt he thought he looked cool, but Chell was just reminded of a horse trying to banish a fly.

They both nodded, Doug adding, "If we could get something to drink and maybe some food, that would be very welcome."

"Think we can manage that," Trevor said with a quick smile. "Follow me, we'll get you both a glass of water."

"Your feet look sore," the younger man said to Chell. "Want some help?"

She shook her head firmly, annoyed by the attention. She understood that she and Doug were a novelty, being strangers in the community, but she didn't like being fussed over.

"Careful," Doug cut in, "she's injured."

"Can’t she speak for herself, Pops?" the woman behind them snapped.

Chell shot her a glance, instantly disliking her. Judging by their similar pretty features, blue eyes and golden hair, she guessed that the woman was the younger man's sister. They were both older than Chell, but there was something almost immature in their conduct. She met the girl’s gaze and shook her head a second time.

"No, she can't," Doug replied evenly. "She's mute."

The girl's eyes widened. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry," she gushed, sounding genuine. "I didn't mean anything by it."

Chell waved off her concern, indicating that it was okay.

"Smooth, Trish," the blond man teased.

"Shut up."

As they walked, Doug murmured, "Pops? Really?"

Chell sent him an impish smile, gesturing to her chin as she mouthed, "It's the beard."

He narrowed his eyes at her, and she silently laughed. After all the weeping, it felt good.

"I meant it, though," the blond man said to her, unknowingly interrupting, "if you need any help, let me know. I'm Brad, by the way."

She smiled as graciously as she could manage, trying to slip an air of dismissal into it. It seemed to work to an extent, as he dropped back into step with the girl, Trish, but Chell imagined that she could feel his gaze, which made her feel uncomfortable. Decisively, she reached for Doug's hand, slipping her fingers through his. He still harboured a nervous tremble, and she rubbed her thumb across his skin in what she hoped was a soothing gesture.

He sent her a curious glance, his surprise thankfully hidden from the two walking behind them. Chell indicated Brad with a quick shift of her gaze. Doug gave the tiniest of nods and tightened his grip on her hand, which made her smile. His fingers were warm and calloused, and felt somehow familiar, although they’d never held hands before. She’d watched his often enough, fascinated by his drawing process, and the way his dextrous fingers seemed to effortlessly create life on the page. But holding hands was a new experience for both of them, one that was comforting in the strange world they found themselves in.

Trevor led them to a small house not far away, obviously his and Gerry's, as he walked right in without knocking. It was one of the more intact houses around, sporting a few different roof tiles, and wooden slats in multiple colours on its front wall.

Gerry had gone back to his wood cutting, but Brad and Trish followed them inside. They passed through a door leading off the hallway, entering a small dining room. The table took up most of the space, surrounded by a random selection of mismatched chairs. Trevor gestured for them all to sit down, then disappeared through to what was presumably the kitchen.

Chell let go of Doug's hand as she pulled out her chair, feeling a strange sense of loss that she didn't care to dwell on. The silence was awkward and heavy, broken only by Trevor rattling around in the adjacent room. Eventually he emerged, carrying a tray loaded with glasses and a pitcher. When she had her glass, Chell had to persuade herself not to gulp down the water, knowing it wouldn't do her body any favours. Instead, she took slow, measured sips, soothing her parched throat.

"I'm heating up some leftover soup," Trevor told them as he took his seat. "Will that do you until dinner?"

"That would be perfect, thank you," Doug said with a smile.

Trevor gave a nod, then fixed them both with a level stare. "So, where did you two have your accident?"

"I...don't know exactly where we were," Doug answered him, frowning. "Somewhere out in the middle of nowhere. West of here, I think."

Chell obligingly nodded.

"It was west?" Doug asked her.

She nodded again. If he needed to lie through his teeth, she might as well help where she could.

"I don't remember much," he told the others. "I hit my head pretty hard. Truth be told, I'm...not even sure what year it is."

Brad gave a short bark of laughter, and Chell braced herself to keep her reaction hidden, no matter what date came out of his mouth.

"2035," the young man said with amusement. "July 12th, to be exact."

Chell took another sip of water, trying to control her expression. Twenty-eight years, she thought. I've been the same age for twenty-eight years. Pushing her feelings aside, she forced herself to shoot Doug a false 'told you so' look.

He blinked a few times, then met her gaze. "That's what you were trying to sign to me," he said, only the faintest tremor audible in his voice.

She sent him a nod and a shrug, unable to show the sympathy she was feeling, aware that he was probably thinking of his family.

Doug turned his attention to their three companions. "Um...I know this is going to sound...odd, but...what happened here?"

They stared at him for a long, uncomfortable moment. Then Trish leaned forward a little. "Are you serious?"

"I honestly don't remember a thing," Doug insisted, "and Chell was having a really hard time trying to explain it to me in gestures..."

"Don't you know sign language?" Trevor asked her.

She shook her head truthfully.

"Her condition is a fairly recent thing," Doug explained. "We're hopeful that it will reverse itself."

Chell pulled a sceptical face. She was reserving judgement on that particular hope.

Trevor let out a deep sigh, leaning back in his chair. "What exactly do you not remember?" he asked, pausing to frown once the sentence was spoken. "If that even makes sense," he added. "You know what I mean."

Doug gave a brief chuckle. "I get it. Um...I know things have been this way for years, but I just...can't remember why."

Trevor looked suddenly weary, but he nodded. "Okay. Let me go sort the food, then we'll go through it."

"Thank you."

A short time later, while Chell and Doug wolfed down vegetable soup and bread rolls with as much dignity as they could manage, Trevor gave them a history lesson. He did so cautiously, his tone of voice indicating to Chell that he was not wholly convinced by their story, but he explained things anyway, for which she was grateful. They needed to know what they'd missed, what kind of world they had escaped to.

"It started in 2009 at the Black Mesa Research Facility," Trevor began.

Doug glanced up with wide eyes, and Chell remembered that he could have ended up working at Black Mesa had his interview gone smoother. Every Aperture employee was familiar with their name. The two companies had been bitter rivals since the 1950s.

"I don't know exactly what happened," Trevor went on. "I don't understand any of that science stuff, and I was only nineteen when it all went down, but something they were experimenting on went drastically wrong and it caused a...a...damn it, what's it called?"

"Something cascade," put in Trish with a shrug.

"A resonance cascade?" Doug asked, lowering his spoon. His voice was a concerning mixture of awe and horror. "My god..."

"You remember that?" Brad wanted to know.

"No...I mean, I don't think so. I just know about the theory. Never thought I'd ever hear about it actually happening." He halted, seemingly aware that his reaction was unusual.

Chell saw Trevor flick his gaze to Doug's lab coat, eyes narrowing thoughtfully. The coat was ragged at the edges, stained with dirt, paint and blood, but it was unmistakeable what it represented.

"Yeah, well, whatever it is, it messed up big time," Brad said expressively.

"How?"

Trevor pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. "These...rips opened up in the sky. Portals through to another universe."

Chell glanced at Doug, wondering if Black Mesa had been developing their own portal technology to counter Aperture's. He didn't look as if he had the answers.

"Things started to come through," Trevor continued. "Alien creatures."

And I thought shooting a portal on the moon was a big deal, Chell thought.

"Caused a big stir at Black Mesa. I heard the military had to get involved. They tried to hush it up, but the problem got too big. The Combine came through."

There was something in the way he said the name that sent a chill down Chell's spine. She broke a piece off her bread roll and chewed it pensively as she listened.

"Are you sure you don't remember any of this?" Trevor asked with a frown.

Doug shook his head, but said nothing.

"Hm. Well, the arrival of the Combine was when everything changed. They touched down at locations all over the planet, wiped out our forces and a huge percentage of the population in just seven hours. They call it the Seven Hour War. As you can see, we're still recovering from it. It was over twenty years ago, but we just don't have the resources to fix everything the way it was." He sighed deeply, folding his arms and leaning on the table. "The big cities are doing better. I heard Washington and New York are looking pretty good these days. But nobody cares about us all the way out here. It took us five years to get electricity and running water."

Chell bit her tongue, using the sting of it to distract herself from her horrified reaction. She'd never have imagined that Aperture could be a source of positivity, but she felt strangely grateful for the protection it had given Doug and herself.

Trevor cleared his throat and continued. "Um...Chell? Could I ask you something?"

Startled, she warily nodded.

"How old are you?"

The question was so out of the blue that she simply stared at him for a long moment.

"You can't ask a lady her age, Trevor," Trish interjected. "You'd know that if you weren't married to a guy."

Chell gestured to indicate that it was okay. She pulled out her pen and wrote her age on the back of her hand.

"Twenty-four?" said Brad with a frown. "But–”

"Hold up," Trevor interrupted, "who's telling this story?"

"But–”

"Brad, I will get to that."

Giving up, Brad huffed and sat back in his seat, eyeing Chell with a look of suspicion that she couldn't interpret. She ignored him and finished up her bread roll.

"So," Trevor went on, "you're probably aware of the rest, aren't you?"

The way he looked at them both put Chell on edge. It was a loaded question to say the least.

"Uh..." Doug began, tensing.

"Your bump on the head didn't make you forget the entire last twenty-six years, did it?"

"Well...no, not all of it."

"So you remember that humanity lived under Combine rule for nineteen years until the resistance movement kicked them out?" Trevor asked casually. Too casually.

Chell gave a soft sigh, realising that they were caught out. Glancing at Doug, she saw his expression lose its touch of confusion as he dropped his act.

Trevor's gaze switched between the two of them. "See, this is the bit that puzzles me. When the Combine took over in 2009 they installed a reproduction suppression field. It prevented anyone from having children, no exceptions. The resistance only managed to knock it out six years ago. So when you claim that Chell is twenty-four... I'm not the smartest at math, but even I can see that that doesn't add up."

Doug nodded in acceptance, and Chell wondered what he would say instead of their story.

"I want the truth," Trevor said, his tone obstinate. "Or I'm gonna have to assume that you're here to scam us."

Chell fixed Doug with a cautionary gaze, although she suspected it was unnecessary. He was the most over-cautious person she knew.

"Okay," he muttered softly in defeat. "Yes, we lied, because the truth is hard to believe."

"Did you miss the part where Earth got invaded by aliens?" Brad asked sarcastically.

Doug shot him a sharp glare. "Even so." He fell silent for a moment, gathering his thoughts. "You must have heard of Black Mesa's main rival, Aperture Laboratories."

"They've been off the radar for years," Trevor said, scepticism written all over his face.

"Yes," Doug agreed, "because in 2007 Aperture had a major incident of their own. The difference was that theirs was internal. The facility went into lockdown. That's...where we've been. We only escaped yesterday, after fighting for our lives. Most of the time we spent there, we were in cryogenic stasis, which is why we haven't aged."

Brad scoffed. "That's the best you could come up with?"

"Not enough aliens for you?" Doug fired back calmly.

Brad blushed sheepishly, and Chell looked down at her lap to try and hide her smirk.

"I'm an open-minded guy," said Trevor pensively, "but unless you have proof..."

Doug tugged his I.D. card from his lab coat pocket and slid it across the table. Trevor picked it up and examined it.

"The issue date is underneath my picture," Doug told him.

Chell knew he'd had his card renewed in 2006, so the picture wasn't too old. If Trevor could see past Doug's current wild appearance, the card was all the proof they needed. She couldn't see that being a problem though. His mismatched eyes were quite unique.

"Well I'll be damned," Trevor murmured.

"Can I see?" asked Trish, stretching her hand out. Trevor passed her the card, and she and Brad pored over it. "Oh my god," she exclaimed, at the same time as Brad sat back and frowned.

“Okay,” Trevor spoke up, “I’ll admit, I understand why you lied.”

“It wasn’t just because of how crazy it sounds,” Doug said gravely. “We didn’t want to risk anyone going back there. The situation we escaped is…still ongoing.”

“Is it dangerous?” asked Brad.

“Yes,” Doug answered, as Chell gave a firm nod.

The younger man shrugged. “Well, wouldn’t it be best to go kill this thing – whatever it is – before it gets out?”

“No,” said Doug and Chell together, although hers was just mouthed.

“It can’t get out,” Doug went on, “but if anyone goes in, I guarantee that they won’t come back.”

“You did,” Trish pointed out.

“Eventually, but it took us years, and that was only because we were employees and we knew the building.”

To Chell’s relief, Brad and Trish started to look doubtful.

“Can you promise me that whatever it is can’t get out?” said Trevor, fixing Doug with a steely gaze, his hazel eyes lit with a spark of fire. “The truth now. I’m willing to try and uproot the entire town and move based on what you say.”

“Trev!” Trish exclaimed.

“I mean it, Trish, I’ll go to the mayor with this right now. I’m not going to lose anyone else. The war was enough. You were too young to understand what it was like.”

“I…want to be able to promise you that,” Doug told him with sincerity, “but the truth is…there’s no way to promise anything when it comes to that place. I’d say it’s unlikely, but…I’m sorry, I just don’t know for sure.”

Chell understood his hesitation. GLaDOS can’t leave, and she doesn’t know this town is here, but what’s to stop her sending out a scout?

He looked frustrated at not being able to give a straight answer, and she placed a hand on his arm in support. He turned to her, his expression softening a little when he realised she understood.

“I don’t know what else to say,” he murmured jadedly, giving a tiny shrug.

I know, she answered silently. You’ve told him the truth, that will have to do.

“What would you do in my situation?” Trevor asked.

Run, Chell thought instantly. She blinked, slightly taken aback by the speed and certainty of the reaction.

“What would I do?” Doug repeated, then he gave a small, humourless laugh. “You’re asking the wrong person, but…I’d think about getting further away from here…just in case. But that’s just me. I’m paranoid.”

He said it casually, but the fact that it was medically true did not lessen the sense in his words, in Chell’s opinion. But then, her experiences had made her a little paranoid too.

Trevor looked troubled, but Brad shrugged dismissively. “Trev, we’ve been fine up til now.”

“Yes, but most of that time Aperture has been dormant,” Trevor pointed out. “You’re living with the consequences of people trusting Black Mesa too much. Do you really want to make the same mistake with Aperture?”

“Well…”

“I’ll think on it,” Trevor said to Doug, “Although, obviously I can’t force people to go if they’d rather stay.”

Doug nodded empathetically. Outside, the sun was setting, bathing the room in dusky pink.

“You two are welcome to stay the night if you don’t mind camping in the lounge,” Trevor offered. “You’d best toss a coin for who gets the couch, though.”

“Thank you,” Doug replied. “You’ve been very kind.”

“No problem. You look like you’ve seen some rough times.”

Chell nodded pensively.

“We were hoping to pick up some supplies for our journey,” Doug spoke up. “We really are trying to get to Wyoming, by the way. We need food and water, medical supplies, and fresh clothes, if possible, but we don’t have any money. Is there a way we could trade for goods? I can do work to pay for them if necessary, but not Chell.”

She turned to send him an indignant look.

“I mean it,” he told her firmly. “You’re injured, you need rest.”

“But–” she mouthed.

“Chell, for once in your life stop being so stubborn,” he interrupted, sounding resolute but a touch amused. “What would you do if you pulled one of your stitches out?”

Reluctantly, she had to admit that he had a point. But sitting and doing nothing was not her idea of fun, however necessary it was.

He was still holding her gaze, almost challengingly, and she sighed, mouthing, “Fine.”

“Thank you.”

“We’re limited on medical supplies,” Trevor said, “but we’ll do what we can. I’m guessing you’ll want to bathe as well.”

“That would be great,” Doug answered emphatically. “What can I do in return?”

“You any good with generators?”

“I don’t know. What’s the problem?”

“It cuts out, sometimes for whole hours. It’s damned annoying.”

Doug rubbed his chin in thought. “I can take a look, at least. I might be able to help.”

“I’d appreciate that. Have to wait until we have the light back, though. Sun’s too low now.”

Trish sat up in her seat. “If you two write down your sizes, Brad and I will find you some clothes from the store room.”

Chell noticed that Brad did not seem particularly pleased about being volunteered. She tried not to smile. They wrote down the information and the siblings left, promising to be back soon.

“I have a little more story to tell,” Trevor said, “but it can wait until dinner. Why don’t you two go get settled?”

After helping him clear up the dishes, they took him up on his offer.

A/N: Apologies for any potential butchering of Half-life lore. It's been a long time since I played those games.

Illustration reference models: Doug - Adrien Brody Chell - Jessica Henwick I just realised I forgot to add paint stains to Doug's lab coat. My bad. Maybe I'll upload an updated version some time.

#A trusted friend in science #Doug Rattmann #Chell #chellmann #OCs ahoy #please forgive me for another talky chapter

[bastillewolf]

It’s More About Looks Than Skill (VIII)

Pairing: Ryuk/Reader

Summary: Ryuk finds himself gaining feelings for Light Yagami’s best friend, but she doesn’t know he exists. When he makes the grave mistake of touching her, he makes things a lot more complicated.

Notes: I’m back... I told you I wasn’t giving up on this fic, I just needed some time to get over myself. I’ve plotted down the whole story and its ending, so you don’t have to worry about me not finishing this. It might take some time, but I’ll try not to post once every two months. Sorry, once again!

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list! If I wasn’t able to tag you, please check your settings and send me another ask.

@sarai-ibn-la-ahad​, @rustypotatospork​ @mantisandthemoondragon @baby-queen-girl​ @itscalledtrust​ @emilyshurley​ @killtherandomness​ @selmeuuh​ @felicity291​ @mahou-no-momo​​ @bakarinnie​​ @beccawinter​​ @chantelle-c333​​ @ria-demon29​​

Chapter VIII

It wasn’t until she’d said goodbye to Soichiro and stepped through the hospital doors into the night’s breeze, did she hear Light speak again. She was standing miraculously placed behind a large bush, where they wouldn’t notice her. It seemed the young man waited to see if anyone stepped through the doors before deciding to continue his talk with the God of death hovering in the air behind him.

“Ryuk.”

“Hm?”

“I never once felt cursed since I picked up the Death Note. In fact, the thought never even crossed my mind. I’m happier than I’ve ever been, all thanks to this power. I’m going to create a perfect world.”

“Honestly, I could care less whether you feel cursed or happy to have a notebook. I’ll leave that sentimental crap to you humans. But… Normally humans who come into contact with a Shinigami have nothing but misfortune.”

“That’s interesting. But I have no intentions of repeating that pattern.”

She only allowed her lungs to release the air they’d been holding long after she could no longer hear his footsteps walking off. And only then did she allow herself to finally feel what she’d felt in the pit of her stomach all this time; fear.

 ***

“Are you seeing this?” Lights voice carried over the walkie-talkie, but her attention was directed entirely towards what the TV in front of her was broadcasting. Since phones had become a danger as of late, she’d suggested going for a more old-school approach, if it was only to be able to contact Light when her house was feeling a bit too empty. Which was happening more and more frequently.

She hummed in response.

“Even if you don’t agree with me, all I ask is that you not publicise your views in the media. If you can do that, you will be spared. All you have to do now, is be patient. I will create a better world that we can all enjoy. Say goodbye to the world as you know it. Soon, we’ll have a new world ruled by benevolence inhabited by kind-hearted, honest people. Try to imagine it; a world where the police and I-“

“Switch channels. Now.”

She did as was asked of her, and was faced with the collapsed figure of Ukita, a taskforce member she’d just met only a few days prior. “Light… you didn’t-?”

“Of course it’s not me, you fool. I wouldn’t be so reckless. Now L will think I don’t need a name to kill someone. This impersonator is ruining all my plans!”

“Calm down, Light. This might work in our favour. You and I both know L will take all possibilities into consideration, so it could very well be that he’s already figured out about this person acting as a second Kira.”

“Ryuk-“ she heard some muffled noises in the background, “-didn’t give another Death Note to anyone, did you?”

“I only had two,” she could make out, “and I’m surely not stupid enough to give away my second one.”

“Light, please look back at the screen.”

“Hm?”

“A vehicle has just driven through the front of the station!”

“Well, that’s one way to stop the broadcast.”

It took a while, but eventually a police car arrived at the scene. And another, and another, until the whole building was surrounded.

“That’s… Soichiro? Light, that’s your father!”

“There you have it! The police refused to cooperate with Kira! Instead, they are prepared to fight. And, as much as I fear for my own life while saying so, this is right, and it must be done! Kira has become a very threat to our constitution, and as citizens, we must fight back. I am NHN’s Golden News anchor, Kouki Tanakabara.”

***

“I can only say it’s a shame that the answer is no, it’s clear that the police wish to oppose me.”

“How and why is this being broadcasted?” she asked, scooting Light’s chair closer to the television on his desk. It was the next day, and Sakura TV was airing the Kira imposer’s tapes once more.

“This will not go unpunished. So, I’ll start by either taking the life of the director-general of the NPA, or the detective known as L, who is currently leading the investigation against me. The director-general, or L? Who will pay the price in your refusal to cooperate in the creation of a peaceful world? You have four days to decide.”

Light let out a small chuckle. “You were right all along. There is no need to worry.”

“Really?”

“It would appear that another Shinigami has come to the human world, and somehow that Shinigami’s Death Note has fallen into the hands of someone who agrees with Kira. And this person most likely the Shinigami Eyes, which makes him very deadly. His power to kill surpasses even mine.”

“Or her,” she corrected him, to which he rolled his eyes.

“One thing is for certain, if I leave things I’m pretty sure L will be finished off within the next four days. However, I can’t forgive this imposter for the way he’s tarnishing Kira’s image with his senseless killings. Not to mention if he slips and gets caught, the Death Note will be discovered and that I can’t allow. I cannot afford to leave him alone for much longer.”

“Oh, now I definitely hope it’s a girl. If only to watch you struggle.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? I don’t struggle with girls,” he protested.

“You’re right. But let’s just say that it wouldn’t surprise me if you turned out gay.”

“Please do shut up.”

 ***

It wasn’t long before L had invited both of them to his secret location. They were currently standing in front of the quirky hotel, after a reasonably lengthy train ride.

“I suppose your father couldn’t have just picked us up?” she asked.

Light shook his head. “That would’ve looked too suspicious. Right now, it just looks like we’re trying to escape our parents by booking a hotel room.”

“Aw, Light,” she cooed, latching onto his arm playfully, “I didn’t think you had it in you.”

He pulled up his nose in irritation, and she felt the Shinigami that had been holding her hand subtly stiffen. “What- what does that mean?”

“Don’t even bother asking, Ryuk,” Light replied.

“I’ll remind you to behave, Light,” she reminded him, “L probably knows this Kira is a copycat because of the fact that they didn’t need a name to kill the person, and you’d do well to think about the possibility that he might have wanted for that last tape to be broadcasted. I’m not sure how you’re going to get out of this one, as you can either choose to be ignorant, or speak up about your ‘deductions’.”

“Hm.”

“God, I hope it’s gonna be a girl.”

 ***

A short introduction followed between Light and the task force, as she simply gave them all a polite smile. She’d told Light briefly about them, as they’d met once or twice when she had her meetings in the café with L beforehand. At first, Light had been appalled by the fact that she knew more about these men that he did, but eventually did accept the fact that he now had someone who was apparently a more trusted figure in L’s mind.

And as expected, tapes were shown to both of them.

“Do you mind if I ask Light to make his deductions first?” L asked her.

She shook her head. “I understand. You’ve talked to me more than you have with Light. Go ahead.”

“So, what do you make of this, Light? Have you come to any conclusions?”

…

…

…It’s a test.

“It’s hard to say, but there might be another person out there with Kira’s power.”

And so it begins.

 You may also write the cause and/or details of death prior to filling in the name of the individual. Be sure to insert the name in front of the written cause of death. You have about 19 days (according to the human calendar) in order to fill in a name.

 “Are you sure you’re gonna pull this off? Pretending to be Kira, I mean?” she nudged him jokingly.

“I sure hope so. As long as I don’t start stuttering like I used to when I was a kid while we go live,” Light replied, almost too innocently. She knew all he wanted to do right now was strangle her for her comment, which is why she made it now; so he couldn’t.

“You used to stutter? Doesn’t seem very like you, Light,” L noted.

“Oh, he did,” Soichiro fondly recalled, “I remember those two reading out loud in Light’s room, giving a presentation to a whole group of stuffed animals, until he stuttered no more. I was so proud of you that day.”

Light shifted in embarrassment, clearly wanting this conversation to go back to business. “Ryuuzaki, does this look okay? I think I managed to make it believable.”

L picked up the sheet of paper. “Hm, I think you’ve done an excellent job with this. However, if we don’t omit the part that says, ‘you’re free to kill L’, then I’m gonna end up dead.”

What a dumbass.

Light laughed accordingly, “Sorry, I guess I got carried away playing the part. I figured if I was him I’d probably demand that he be killed. I was improvising, feel free to change it to whatever you like.”

“Sounds good. Say, just to make sure nothing happens, I’d have Aihara read the script during broadcast. It’s just as a precaution.”

“Of course.”

What a shame.

 ***

They’d sat down in front of the television once more, which seemed to be a more regular occurrence these days. Soichiro met her gaze.

“Sweetheart, do you have any idea when your parents are coming back?”

She shook her head, “They usually let me know the day before. Their schedules are too erratic these days to be able to plan home visits ahead.”

She knew he pitied her when she’d said ‘home visits’. Parents shouldn’t be visiting their home. They should visit work, and be home.

“But they let me know they’re getting all of the divorce papers finalized, and that because of their absence they think it would be best to keep the house until I move out.”

“Your parents are getting divorced?” Light asked, genuinely surprised, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

She shrugged. “They told me when we still weren’t on speaking terms because of our fight. Guess it slipped my mind.”

“Well, you’re always welcome to stay at our house, if you’re missing the comfort,” Soichiro reminded her, for which she was grateful. “I was wondering though - and please tell me if I’m stepping out of line here - haven’t you connected with anyone else yet in school?”

“…Connected, sir?”

“W-Well, you know what I mean-“

“…Oh, uh- No, not really.”

“Well, it’s not any of my business anyway, but while your father is gone, please do tell me if you need me to give a young man a stern look.”

She giggled quietly, her cheeks reddening. “Thank you, mister Yagami. But I don’t think that’s necessary.”

“That reminds me,” Light said, “I think I kind of promised someone you’d go out with them.”

“What?”

Ryuk held his breath.

#Death Note #dn #L #lawliet #ryuk #ryuk x reader #light #light yagami #yagami light #ryuzaki #light x reader #l x reader #lawliet x reader #shinigami #anime #manga #god of death #It's More About Looks Than Skill #imalts

[anangelicday-mrwolf]

Wolfsbane : Noblesse Fanfic (post-ending)

(previous chapter)

Chapter 64 – The Will of the Blade 

“Sir.” 

It was Rael that Raizel’s steps were destined at, following his talk with Frankenstein. 

“...Rael Kertia. It was of an honorable accomplishment that you have brought.” 

Rael sheepishly nodded in response to his commendation. 

On the first day ever he stood in the Lord’s Hall as the head of his clan, Rael cursed the fact that he had nothing to present as a medal unlike other heads of clans. 

But now he finally got for himself what Raizel would dub as an accomplishment. 

Even with something he could carve upon a new trophy for himself – something that he can proudly present to the patriarchs of the Kertia clan – he did not feel elated or proud at all.

His head was endlessly winding and rewinding a marathon of what he had gone through during his showdown against Deneb, pumping into his atriums and ventricles a myriad of feelings for each heartbeat. 

The last of his curiosity for Grandia that has finally made its comeback. 

Indignation at Deneb’s unspeakable plan. 

And...... 

“Seem tremendously troubled you do.” 

Just before he was once again conquered by the emotional chain most intricately bound to his mind at the moment, Raizel’s velvety call dragged him back to reality. 

“Apologies, sir. I’m afraid I failed to attend to your words.” 

“From your body I feel the edge of energies of Rayga and Razark.” 

Rael’s head twitched, bowed in the presence of the Noblesse. 

His soul weapon was tucked in hiding, waiting for the next summon its master would issue. 

And just because a soul weapon is on standby for a summon does not mean its energy is completely intact within its outline. 

However, in order for the energy within the soul weapon to leak, its owner must engage in a battle to unleash even the least portion of power he or she could afford, which will whisk only the faintest of the soul weapon’s energy. 

Like the very first time Rael put himself against Frankenstein in Seoul, for example. 

Compared to what happened back then, Rael’s Grandia is half-asleep, if its state is to be transcribed into a medical state, and Rael did not even attempt to dispense his power. 

Yet Raizel claimed he picked up traces of Rayga and Razark, permanently asleep in Grandia. 

Rael’s head wobbled back and forth, driven by the thought that his father and brother must have been aware of the anguish and deliberation he had suffered. 

As expected. 

And now he knew why Grandia had been serving as a thorn in his path. 

“Sir, could you please spare me some time for me to open my heart...?” 

What he had experienced was not the sort to rub into anybody’s nose, but Rael saw no reason to keep it a secret any longer. 

Thus he unraveled the entire history of distress and woes he had with his soul weapon. 

He also unleashed the sorrow, disorientation, and pressure he had to bear in relation to his conflict with the patriarchs of his clan.

Even though he was made an audience for something he had never asked for, Raizel kept his ears as focused as possible, his eyes never once blinking. 

Rael’s speech met its end, but Raizel remained silent.

From his mouth as well-reserved as his nature, and from his eyes as serene as his physique and psyche, Rael could read Raizel’s intention. 

The Noblesse was serving himself as a well – a well that never retorts or rebukes or rejects, regardless of the words that are poured into it.

A well that will simply accept whatever its visitor throws in and wait where it is until the visitor completely empties his or her monologue. 

Rael realized a tad late that he was puffing up feeble gasps, now that he was done speaking. 

It was not of the rate that would tail unimaginably rigorous physical labor. 

It was closer to a physical and mental closure to a long, long mediation. 

In fact, Rael could feel his heart clear like never before – at least he had never felt like this since his perpetual return to Lukedonia – reminiscent of the heaven made clean with a tempest. 

As of now, he felt like he could do anything – including, for instance, dealing with his struggle against the oh-so-fearful patriarchs of Kertias once and for all. 

‘I see.’ 

That was when Rael caught up on another motive behind Raizel’s quiet toleration of his narrative. 

‘He’s helping me with my practice. After all, second is always easier than the first.’ 

And he even took caution to be considerate of Rael’s dignity, to allow him to figure out his purpose. 

Rael met Raizel in the eyes, the Noblesse pleased that his treasured follower’s son earned an enlightenment. 

“My Grandia had been unresponsive because my will was not what I should have carried. I should have held my blades with nothing but the very essence of the will of Kertias. Since who-knows-when, I’ve been captivated by this obsession that I must be a head of my clan that will not shame my father and brother. I have forgotten about myself as the head of Kertias, even committing shame of mimicking my brother in every aspect of my life, copying his hair and manner of speech.” 

Rael’s voice was devoid of its past weight, instead firm and well-grounded. 

“When I discarded all my obsession and corrected my path into the direction that will lead me to the Kertian will, albeit uncoordinated and inexperienced... That was when Grandia returned to me. And now... I think I know what path I must follow as the head of my clan... What I should do to truly return my gratitude to my father and brother, who gave me an ordeal of a lesson from my blades.” 

It had been less than 24 hours since his steel reassumed its position, but Rael’s eyes were glowing with unmeasurable profundity. 

“There is no need for perfection. There is no need for reenactment of my father and brother. What I need is self-discovery in my own path and will as a head of my clan. And I will never forget what truly matters. My deepest gratitude, sir, for being a company to my account.” 

Raizel at last parted his lips, illustrating a subtle smile as if he was elated to be of help. 

“Now go.” 

Go? Go where? 

“Concerned of him, you have been.” 

Yup, he is impossible to fool. 

“In that case, please excuse me.”

Keeping his manners functional to the very last moment, Rael showed the most well-shaped bow he could perform and turned his course, to the most seriously injured person among all people hospitalized as urgent patients within KSA’s infirmary. 

*****

“...Sir... Rael...” 

Rael was greeted by a vocal beckoning so very thin, not strange at all to be gone in mere seconds, the speaker’s every plane supposedly naked for the noble to see clad in bandages. 

Had Rael been born from a different race, he would not have caught that Yuhyung was making a sound, let alone comprehend what he was making sounds for. 

That was just how disastrously his voice box – no, how his entire body was compromised. 

“Hang in there for just a little bit. Sir Frankenstein will be here soon.” 

Rael offered a notice on Frankenstein’s return, by courtesy of Tao. 

No punishment ever coined would be enough upon the human, considering what he had wrought and hence brought upon Korea. 

Nonetheless, the RK’s reached an agreement to show the felon to Frankenstein. 

After all, neither legal penalty nor physical retaliation would be possible if he is to die. 

And Rael took out that part in his news; he did not feel this is the time to reveal the fact. 

“And I recommend you to brace yourself. Lukedonia may summon you as an affiliate to Deneb’s act of treason, So...” 

At then, Yuhyung spat out eccentric pieces of coughs. 

If his throat happened to be better even by little, Rael would have noted immediately that it was meant to be a self-sneer.

That it was meant to be a self-scorn of immense regret, for making an irrevocable, erroneous choice and marking upon hundreds of people humongous bitterness of betrayal and scars. 

‘Just how blind have I been...?’ 

The day he lost his colleagues to nobleborn and wolfborn elders of the Union and begot the blade called vengeance in his bosom.

That was the day Yuhyung got to define the noblekind and wolfkind as his nemesis. 

He swore he will never forgive them. 

He swore he will have his revenge.

He swore he will pry out the hearts of his nemesis with the blade within him, on the day he finally gains power. 

So on the day Taesik and the doctor suddenly called him and assigned him business trips to nobles and werewolves, he burned with cruel passion. 

And he even got to meet a Union agent called Helga, everything seemingly a golden chance from Lady Luck. 

Which is why the moment he began his duty with the QuadraNet project, he deliberately shaped himself more uncoordinated and frantic. 

He never stopped smiling and dispersing goofy laughs, as if his mouth was full of honey, but he painstakingly waited for the day he would get to reveal the blade within him, very much alive and hissing like a snake. 

That was the way he had been, until he got to learn about Rael. 

He felt his vindictive stance crumbling, in the face of a noble very far from arrogance or vanity. 

He even felt for sure how he was wavering when he met the beautiful lord of the nobles. 

Because when he was demonstrating for her Tao’s phone and apps, she was not hugely different from the human girls from his world, shy about her affections for her certain someone. 

And then he ran into an unexpected addition to his quest – a noble named Deneb who forced him to be his spy on Rael. 

Because of whom Yuhyung was half-coerced to yield from his set of equipment a walkie-talkie and the extrasensitive thermal detector, in case there were to be a future collision with Rael. 

‘I almost had a heart attack when I realized Sir Rael rummaged through my bag, upon the sea where he was to hand me over to Miss Lunark, when I had a seizure. I was scared he might have realized my bag lost some weight.’ 

Apart from his apprehension towards an unwelcome ally, back then Yuhyung was actually thankful for Deneb. 

For he became the reason for Yuhyung to scold himself that nobles cannot be trusted at all (and he should know it), the Illiness reeking of desire for Seira in every composition of his being, upon the sight of which Yuhyung regrounded his attitude that was swaying ever since his encounter with Rael and Lascrea. 

Notwithstanding, he found himself hesitating once again, as he watched how Lunark was basically screaming into his eyes how she had a crush, with Garda making a huge show of teasing her.

He felt that they are basically werewolf versions of his own kind.

And he could feel himself precariously dithering, as he could practically hear the word “maybe” in his head at least dozen times. 

He even had to shake his head as if there were a tarantula sitting upon it, but in the end he was met with a trial. 

When Lunark escorted him back to Lukedonia, they had stopped in the middle of their marine trail. 

He was horrified that she might have detected what lurks in his heart, but to his utmost surprise she brought herself upon her knees. 

I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry about the death of your colleagues and devastation of your homeland, because of the assault that I was part of on that day. I know it’s too late to apologize. I know my apology does not bring back your colleagues. Still... I’m so sorry. I really am. 

Never has he seen it coming. 

Never has he even imagined that the very assailant of the tragedy would kneel before him. 

What shocked him even more was that he almost offered her his hand to raise her up before she did. 

As he put on a masquerade of every frenzy he could muster, he internally gritted his teeth. 

That’s right, werewolf. This doesn’t change anything. 

I’m not changing my goal, no matter what you do. 

And how do I know if you’re being serious? 

So I’m going to stick to my plan. 

I will bring power to the KSA and stab your heart with this blade of mine! 

‘I should have known that I was being stubborn... I should have known that I knew I was being stubborn. I should have stopped myself from ignoring what my heart was screeching at me.’ 

It was because of this incident at Seoul that he finally realized his heart could no longer stay as the sheath for his blade. 

As he watched how the blade he was so certain was meant for nobles and werewolves ironically butchered his own kind and his beloved motherland, and as he grew delirious with pain and despair, as if the heaven had forsaken him, he finally had the enlightenment. 

‘Not all nobles are evil. Not all werewolves are morally castrated. It is not right to dump individual evil upon the entire kind. Most importantly... I knew it deep down inside. But I’ve been playing deaf and blind.’ 

Which was proven by the fact that he unconsciously shifted his eyes towards Rael when he was pleading to Deneb to save this city. 

For a reason unbeknownst to him, he knew that Rael is the one he should be begging to, not Deneb. 

Which is why when Rael saved him from being pushed off the brink of death via Deneb’s hand and speedily carried him to KSA, Yuhyung did not waste his time at all in providing something to him. 

Something he had earned during his quest at wolfkind’s realm, when he found from Adne’s computer the most recently printed file during the course of his work with QuadraNet project. 

A file on something called GC chip. 

It was the Union technology he found to be most enchanting, so he even took his separate notes about it. 

That was what he handed to Rael, and the latter lived up to his expectations, saving Seoul with his team. 

‘Even now he’s caring for a criminal and a traitor called me... Brace myself? I’ve already given up on myself, whatever it is that is waiting for me.’

Enemy to him. Enemy to Korea. And enemy to the mankind. 

One of the subjects he had deemed so in fact saved him. He saved Korea. And he saved the mankind, at least those inhabiting this city.

And he could collect fragments of words that Tao, Takio, and M-21 shared as they visited in turns to take a look at him, to learn that Lunark did something similar at Lukedonia. 

‘My true enemy wasn’t the nobles. Or werewolves. It was my thirst for vengeance twisted and distorted into obsession and obstinacy, refusing to accept that not all nobles and werewolves are my enemies.’ 

Which means it is time for him to throw away the blade he had been tucking deeply in his chest. 

‘No... I shouldn’t throw it away. I must free it from the sheath called obsession, wipe off rust called obstinacy, and pass it on to the new wielder. To somebody who is directly affiliated with this matter and thus scheduled with a hell of a round of toil. Not to mention how he was discussing with Mr. Tao and his team that he must return to Lukedonia as soon as possible and bring judgment upon Deneb.’ 

With his decision made, Yuhyung croaked repeatedly to draw Rael’s attention. 

His eyes bulging, the Kertia approached to look into the man, and Yuhyung for first time ever gave it all he had gotten to clutch onto his garment. 

Or rather, he managed to barely place two of his fingers on Rael’s sleeve. 

“I... Have... Some... Thing... To... Give... You...” 

At first Rael tried to stop him from speaking; speech was on the list of not-to-do’s for the human in his current condition. 

But the fact that Yuhyung would know very well how he is doing and yet is struggling to say something made him change his mind.

Which resulted with Rael’s eyes, already bulky enough, growing so enormous that it was a wonder they did not burst. 

(next chapter)

Once again, I’ve brought you a chapter on how much Rael has grown lol. He happens to be my 3rd bias from Noblesse, so I’ve been waiting to compose and post this chapter. And at last here it is. :) Once I’m done describing the internal shifts the characters have gone through, this fic will finally meet its end. Actually, I assume Ch. 70 will be the final chapter. I have several projects I must get busy with, so it’s about time for me to finish this series. Although I don’t feel like I’m getting there yet, by the time I post the final chapter I’d feel immensely rueful that it’s over. Until then I will do my best as a writer. Much gratitude to those of you who would read my fic!

#korean webcomic #korean webtoon #fanfic #noblesse #frankenstein #lunark #frankensteinxlunark #lunarkxfrankenstein #wolfsbane #Mr.Wolf #AnAngelicDay

[angelanimedesaray]

Survive Or Live Chapter 3: One Way Barter

AN:  I didn’t see anyone tell me “Never attempt to write Levi again!” so I’m going to assume its safe for me to continue with Levi POV in the future, lol.  Also, disclaimer--I know jack s*** about medical stuff, what is in here is me googling and then bulls***ing about knowing what I’m talking about, lol.  Next, please have mercy on me, I AM still feeling out Levi’s character from a writing perspective.  Finally:  After two action opening chapters, joy, we’ve hit the slower talking range XD That’s more just me bemoaning, talkie chapters as I call them are harder for me to write, I just really love my action XD

Characters:  Levi, OC (Mae Brooks)

Pairing:  (Eventual) Levi x OC

Warnings:  Language

Word Count:  4885

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(Gif by Charise Harp Photos)

*Mae’s POV*

“What do you intend to do now?”

Mae held perfectly still, eyes not on the blade whose edge rested across her chest, but instead on the man who was on the other end.  He looked rough--covered in gore and dirt stains, body tense, and those steel blue eyes hard and focused solely on her once again.

“I intended to find out who jumped into my truck.  Since they stayed instead of hopping out of the truck at the first turn.”  She tilted her head curiously at him.  “So why’d you stay along for the ride?”

No response.  At least not a verbal one.  She felt like he was studying her far more closely, and she felt the blade waver just a hair--she wouldn’t have been able to see it, but since it was right against her chest, she felt it.

“Okay then, different question.  How the hell did you end up with what may have been all the rotters in town on your tail?  Cause you don’t seem like the type for stupidity to be the reason.”

His eyes narrowed slightly at that comment, but again, he didn’t say anything.  He was just letting her run her mouth, probably figuring her out more and more with every passing second while she continued to only get stoic silence from him and the smallest reaction twitches here and there.

With a slightly bitter laugh, Mae raised a hand to run it through her hair, shaking her head.  “Longer than I can keep track of not seeing another living person, I finally run into someone that so far hasn’t given me a reason not to trust them, and they hardly say a word outside of cursing me about my driving.  Figures.”

“Seems you’ve forgotten something,” he finally said, the blade at her chest applying a little more pressure as a reminder.

Mae smirked, gesturing towards the blade. “Oh, that?  That’s just how people say hello these days.”

He arched an eyebrow at her.  “That doesn’t make you too friendly, then.”

“That’s because you didn’t see my hand on my gun when I first walked out here.”

It was true--her hand had hovered over the gun holster at her back as soon as she opened the truck door.  When he hadn’t immediately sliced her in half or shish kabobbed her with his katana, she’d let her hand slowly lower from the gun, and her hand hadn’t come near it, since.  She got the sense if he’d planned on killing her, he would have done it by now.

He actually didn’t look surprised at her statement.  It was more like she’d confirmed a suspicion...which meant he probably knew she’d had a hand on a weapon the first half of that conversation.  It wasn’t just his blade that was sharp, then.  Good.

She held out her other hand in an offer to shake it, that way both were visible to him and neither were near a weapon.  “I’m Mae.”

Yet another silence passed that Mae spent being sized up by the stranger in front of her, hand outstretched between them, that razor sharp katana lightly pressed against her chest.  Finally, he removed the blade from in front of her, sliding it back into its sheath and ignoring her outstretched hand.  He still hadn’t given her a name, but at least he wasn’t holding his blade on her anymore.  That counted for something.

Dropping her hand, Mae leaned on the side of the truck.  “So, do I get to know your name, or do I have to keep calling you The Stranger in my head like we’re in some twisted western?”

“Are you always this talkative?”

“I haven’t seen anyone I could actually talk to in months, forgive me for wanting something of a conversation.”

“I’m not here to entertain you.”

“Of course not, though I still have yet to know why you are here, since you didn’t have to stay in the back of my truck once we were away from that horde.”

And they were right back to a one sided conversation as The Stranger looked away, out towards what Mae assumed was the barn on the other side of the hayfield.  Instead of answering her, he shifted in the bed of the truck, his hand gripping the edge as he started to pull himself up, but for some reason, he stopped halfway up, and simply started to slide his way to the tailgate, reaching over the edge to lower it.  She eyed him as he moved, following slowly along the edge of the truck, and noticing that he seemed to be putting more weight on his right side than his left.  She still held her tongue, waiting a few more moments to see…

When he reached the edge of the tailgate, his right leg swung over the edge without hesitation, stabilizing himself on the ground...but he hesitated with the left, moving slower, like he was testing how much weight he could put on it.  It was a familiar motion, and since she felt she had a good guess at what was going on, she decided to speak up.

“Hold up, are you--” she started to say, reaching out instinctively to stop or steady him, she wasn’t sure.  He knocked the closest hand aside, shooting her a glare.

“I’m fine.”

“I don’t think--”

“I said I’m fine.”

Mae huffed, stepping back, and then around so she was standing in front of him.  “You know, I have a medical background, if you’re hurt, I can help--really help.”

Well, that caught his attention.  He looked up at her with those probing eyes again, stopped right on the edge of the tailgate with both legs dangling over the edge, leaning forward.  “What kind of medical background?”

Ah, shit...I was hoping he wouldn’t ask for that specific.

Fighting the rising blush in her cheeks, Mae planted herself as confidently as possible right in front of him.  “Well...I was a vet before the world turned into this shitstorm.”

“There’s no way in hell you’re a veteran, so by vet, you mean veterinarian,” he said bluntly before she’d even finished her sentence.

“Hey, that still means I have more medical knowledge than most of the remaining living population,” Mae said defensively over his rather loud ‘Tch.’  “And I do know the differences between treating humans and animals, if that’s what you’re worried about.  So are you going to let me look at you, or not?”

He started to turn away, looking like he was about to refuse and insist that he was all right.  Mae narrowed her eyes at him, and despite her better judgement telling her not to, she reached out with one hand to stop him, the other hand giving his left leg an experimental nudge.

The Stranger let out a hiss of pain and pulled back, one of his hands twitching towards the blades sheathed at his side and knocking her helping hand aside once more.

“Did I say you could touch me?”

Well, at least she knew for sure that there was something wrong now.

“You’re being stubborn, and I’ve seen enough animals and people limping around on a leg injury to know what one looks like.  If you keep trying to move around on it, that’s just going to make it worse--”

“I know that--” He said through grit teeth, but Mae kept talking right over him before he could protest again.

“--so I’m going to look at it whether you like it or not.  Before you do more damage cause you can’t even give me the benefit of the doubt enough to properly look at you,” she finished bluntly, already kneeling down in front of him to get a closer look at his leg.

And to think she’d once been a lot more soft-spoken and easygoing.  The apocalypse tended to make people a lot more...forceful.  It didn’t help that she was out of practice interacting with people.

Mae’s fingers probed at his leg much more gently this time, feeling for any breaks--though she figured he’d be showing more pain if he’d broken it--before she tried telling if it was a fracture or a simple sprain.  The Stranger didn’t make a sound this time, though she felt his leg reacting to pain beneath her fingertips, other subtle twitches like the tightening of his grip on the tailgate’s edge giving her an idea that he was in pain.  And those reactions were coming when she applied a little more pressure closer to the bone.

“It’s looking like it might be a fracture.  X-rays aren’t an option, so I can’t give you specifics or a truly one hundred percent sure answer, but I can tell you how, and I have the stuff, to treat it.  I’m sorry to say a fracture involves a lot of time off your feet, though.”

“Figured as much,” he muttered in response.  She wished he didn’t have that scarf wrapped around his face--maybe she’d be able to get a better idea of what he was thinking if she could see all of his face.

“While I’m doing this, did you happen to get hurt anywhere else?”

He didn’t answer, though in the silence and with her closer proximity, she could hear his breathing, which seemed shallow and deliberate to her.  Now that she was thinking about it, he had to have landed on his back or his side when he’d jumped into her truck.  He’d been pushing himself up when she looked back.  Maybe he’d suffered some kind of chest injury from the impact.

He stiffened as her hands moved upward, ignoring the gore on his jacket as her fingers probed around his chest, another hand reaching around to feel at his chest and side.  He leaned away from the contact, demeanor somehow getting a little chillier.

“You can stop touching me now,” he said, his tone letting Mae know it wasn’t a suggestion.

Still, she ignored him as she applied a bit more pressure to his ribs.  “As soon as I know what’s wrong, sure.  Until then, you’re going to have to deal with the medical probing.”

As her hand put pressure on the upper part of the side of his ribs, she heard a sharp intake of breath, and his hands suddenly trapped her own, pushing them away from his chest.  “It’s just some bruised ribs, I’ll be fine, just stop touching me.”

He had a point--it must have been weird to have a stranger poking and prodding at his injuries without really asking permission.  She didn’t think anything of it because she was used to prodding animals who couldn’t do much to protest.  Though in her defense, he was hurt, he was being stubborn, and he kept not answering her questions.

Mae stood back up, hands on her hips as she gazed at his leg and let out a soft sigh.  “Well...After some RICE, I’ll be able to give you a more definite answer, but in the meantime, I’d say play it safe so that if I’m right and that is a fracture, you don’t make it worse--there’s not exactly ER operating rooms available if that leg ends up needing surgery.  If I’m wrong and it's just a sprain, you’ll only be down for two to four weeks.  If I’m right...you’re looking at something more like six to eight.”

He didn’t ask what RICE meant, which gave Mae the impression he already knew what it meant.  Perhaps he had some at least basic medical knowledge, then...though that thought only made his current resistance to her helping him all the more frustrating.

“It’s a sprain, and I heal fast--I’ll be fine in a few days,” he returned bluntly, moving like he was about to get off the truck.  Once again, Mae stopped him.

“If you can walk five steps without that leg buckling from pain, then I’ll say maybe to that.  But for now, either way, you need to be off that leg for a few days before I even take another look at it.”

He ignored her and planted his right foot on the ground.  “Five steps, you said?”

Sweet Jesus, I think he’s actually going to try it...this should be interesting…

With a look of single-minded determination in his eyes, The Stranger carefully placed his left foot on the ground, then paused.  For a moment, Mae hoped that putting weight on the leg was making him rethink this attempt.

Gingerly, he stepped forward with his left, stiffening with fists clenching at his sides as he shifted the weight onto his left leg with an audible hiss.  He’d cast his eyes down so she couldn’t gauge any degree of what he was thinking, but that reaction had been enough to tell her his leg hurt like a bitch.

Is he going to try for the next--yes, it seems he is.

He lifted his leg again, placing it carefully on the ground in his third step, and attempting the fourth, putting his weight back on the left.

He might just make it to five, Mae thought in surprise, beginning to feel impressed as she watched him.

No sooner did she finish her thought, then The Stranger’s leg suddenly buckled half-way through his fourth step.  Having been waiting for it, Mae was able to dart forward and catch him before he hit the ground, pulling one of his arms around her shoulders as she helped him up.

“Nearly:  since you were almost able to walk on it the whole five steps, I’m willing to reduce my diagnosis to a severe sprain unless I see signs of a fracture after a few days rest.  Either way, you’re still going to be on bedrest for a couple weeks.  Let’s get you inside and see to treating that leg.”

He seemed to be making some sort of pained grumbling, the sound muffled to a rumble in his chest as she helped him up the three steps onto the farmhouse front porch, pulling him to lean on her the most whenever he’d normally be placing weight on his left.  Just before the door, Mae stopped him once again, getting out from under his arm and letting him lean against the wall for stability.

“Hold on, let me just…” Mae muttered, starting to shrug off her bloodstained flannel, then leaning down to undo the ties on her boots.

“I keep whatever clothes got gorey on my run in this basket right here,” she explained, nudging a lidded wicker basket with her hip as she was untying the last boot, conscious of the fact The Stranger was watching her.  “If you don’t mind, you can toss yours in there, too--I’ll go down to the river and clean ‘em once we’re done here.  Doing it that way helps keep the house a little cleaner.”

For the first time since meeting him, he didn’t complain or even question what she said, already shrugging off the military duffel bag strapped onto his back, unzipping the tactical jacket to reveal a well-fit turtleneck, and untying the scarf from around his face.  Finally, she could see more than jet black hair and eyes that seemed far more grey than blue now that they were out of the sun.  Sadly, seeing the whole of his expression didn’t help to figure out what was going on in his head--he just seemed...indifferent.  She’d have to keep watching his eyes for answers, it seemed.

He held out the clothes and bag to Mae as she straightened, reaching out to take the bundle from him.  However, he held fast, catching her attention as he met her gaze.

“I’ll clean mine myself--that way I know it's done right.”

Mae’s eyebrows rose slightly, but she didn’t protest, giving him a small nod.  “All right then.”

Looks like I’ll be hauling river water over later.

Once he had her agreement, he relinquished the clothes, which Mae tucked away into the basket for later, with her boots placed next to the basket.

Of course, there was gore on their jeans, too, but Mae wasn’t about to strip in front of him, or ask him to take his pants off.  She’d just sit him down in a kitchen chair instead of the couch while she took care of his leg, and find something for him to change into in her to-be-scrapped clothes so he could claim the couch without getting gore all over it.

“I’ll deal with that later,” she said with a sigh, coming even with The Stranger again and feeling him put a hand on her shoulder to steady himself as she opened the door, sparing him a brief glance.

Oh...he’s shorter than me!

Once inside, Mae guided him towards the dining table on their left, getting the hint when every time she tried to pull his arm around her shoulder again to support him, he whacked the hand away.  Instead he only reached out for her shoulder when he needed stability, doing a stubborn hop the thankfully short distance to the dining table, Mae pulling out a dining chair for The Stranger to sit in.

The first level of the farm house was an almost entirely open space, with the only wall separated rooms being the stairwell to the second floor, and the doorless foyer on its right that led to the back door.  As a result, the kitchen, living room, and dining room took their own sections of one giant right angle shaped room.  The kitchen took up the upright edge, the dining room had the corner, and the living room took the bottom edge.

“I’m suddenly even happier I found more wrappings today.  I’ll be right back with the stuff for this,” Mae said once he was sitting, already doing a mental inventory of what she had and what he might need as she turned to make a run upstairs.

The top of the stairs revealed a T hallway, with the entrance to the master bedroom--her room--on the left, a door to the bathroom on the far end of the right, and down the middle hall were two doors on the right that led into a smaller guest bedroom and an office she had mostly turned into a storage room.

Painkillers were a must, for the ribs and his leg, so that was the first thing she went for, going into her bedroom and prying up one of the loose floorboards for one of her ‘valuables’ stashes, looking through its contents until she found what she wanted.  NSAIDs--not acetaminophen--since they would help reduce any kind of inflammation.  She made sure her board was back in place, then made her way to the bathroom, where she kept some of her more easily found medical supplies under the sink, to get the bandages and tape.  The last stop was the storage room for her scrap clothes stash--specifically the ones she hadn’t cut up for the odd project yet, hoping she had a pair of pants somewhere in there he could wear--even if he had to roll up the pant legs.

Once she had her best pants candidate and her supplies, Mae made her way back downstairs.  The Stranger was still sitting where she left him, head doing a slow turn as he studied every inch of his surroundings.  His gaze returned to Mae once she came down the stairs, eyebrows raising slightly at the sight of the pair of pants dangling off her arm.

“What, you think I’m letting you bedrest on my couch with those jeans?  Hell no, I don’t want to have to clean it up,” Mae said in response, tossing the pants onto the tabletop before setting the bottle of NSAIDs next to his hand that was resting on the table.  “Those are your painkillers.  Go easy on them, I don’t need to tell you how hard it is to find those.”

The Stranger picked up the bottle and turned it over in his hands carefully as Mae drew up a chair opposite him, carefully reaching down and pulling his leg up as gently as she could to rest it in her lap.  She ignored his look and slightly uncomfortable shift in his seat, starting to undo his shoelaces and rolling his pant leg partially up before she started to carefully ease his boot off.  He stiffened beneath her grip, and she glanced up with a quick, mumbled, “Sorry,” before she continued easing his boot off.

Once his pant leg was rolled up to his knee, and his boot and sock was off, she finally started wrapping up his leg, trying to stay gentle while wrapping his leg tightly and securely--properly.

For a while, they sat in silence, Mae patiently wrapping up his injured leg while The Stranger studied her, slowly turning the pill bottle over in his hand.

“Why are you so hell bent on helping me?  What do you want from me?” he finally said, breaking the silence.

“What, are you worried about being in debt to me or something?” Mae asked, glancing up at him with raised brows.  His expression didn’t change, sharp eyes still watching her every movement, probing for some hidden motive, looking for a sign of ill intent.  “Don’t be.  The most I’d ask from you would be a little human interaction.  If I decide that’s my price, you don’t think that’s going to kill you, do you Mr. The Stranger?”

“Tch,” was his only reply as he looked away, out the windows that lined the front of the house, gaze fixated over the hayfield and the barn outside.  A few more beats of silence passed, and as Mae neared the end of her wrapping, he spoke again.  “Levi.”

Mae paused, processing the sharp but quiet word that had cut through the silence before she reached for the tape to finish up.  “Levi…” she said slowly, feeling out the name as it fell from her lips.  “Levi...Thank God, because it was getting really weird calling you The Stranger in my head.”

With his leg taped up, Mae scooted the chair back and wrapped up the leftover bandages as she got to her feet.  “I’ll let you try those on while I head outside, I’ll be back in a moment--gotta get my stuff and all that,” Mae finished in a murmured response, placing the wrapping on the table and nodding towards the pants still sitting on the table before she headed out the front door.

Once outside, Mae made her way back to the truck, throwing open the truck’s back door and grabbing the gasoline canisters first, carrying them back to the farmhouse.  She stopped in front of the lattice covered foundation, pulling back a panel to reveal her gas stash; only a few canisters at the moment, but at least the stash was getting two more today.

No...One.  I need to fill up the truck today.  Almost forgot.

After stashing the two full canisters, grabbing a lighter one, and placing the lattice back in its place, Mae went back to the truck to fill the tank.  Once that was done, she pulled her bow and backpack out of the truck, folding the bow up and picking up the empty canister to stash it again for later.

It’s been long enough for him to get pants on, right?  Even with the sprain?

Mae hesitantly made her way back up to the stairs, knocking lightly on the front door.  “Just making sure you’re decent before I walk in,” she called, listening for some kind of confirmation on the other side of the door.

There were a few moments that she assumed Levi--she couldn’t begin to explain how inwardly giddy it made her to finally have a name--was finishing getting decent again.  After those few moments she stood on the porch waiting at the front door, she finally heard Levi’s voice call out, “You’re clear.”

Mae came back inside to the sight of Levi standing on one foot, gory pants in one hand and held out towards her, the loans almost fitting nicely on him--he had rolled the pant legs up some, but she wasn’t going to comment on it.

“Knocking to come into my own house...that’s a first,” she quipped as she took the dirty pants from him, partially poking briefly out the door to toss them into her wicker basket before she came back inside and continued.  “There’s a guest bedroom upstairs, but I’d stay off that leg as much as possible for the first few days, so for now, I dub thee sole ruler of the couch until such a time you can upgrade to a bed by passing the trial of stairs.”

Levi stared at her for a solid minute, and to be honest, she almost broke into another babble of nonsense in an attempt to break the silence and get him to stop looking at her like that before he finally said, “If I’m going to be here for a few days, you have to stop talking like that.”

Mae blushed and shrugged.  “The conversation is pretty one-sided right now, I think I’m trying to fill the empty air with twice the words.”

“Don’t.  You don’t have to, so don’t try.”

“Fair enough,” Mae murmured, stepping aside as Levi hopped his way over to the cream couch settled directly in front of a living room centerpiece fireplace, a small coffee table between the couch and fireplace, a cushioned rocking chair on one side of the couch, and a recliner on the other.  It was a cozy spot, at least, nothing too terrible--it wasn’t like she was restricting him to the dining table while he recovered.

“I’ve got some things to pass the time while you’re on bedrest--I’ve got a few books, I’m sure if I look I can find cards or some kind of game somewhere...I’m sure I can find something to keep your hands busy, anyway,” she said, setting her bow on the dining room table for the moment as Levi eased down onto the couch facing the windows, letting his injured leg stretch out across the couch and putting a few pillows below it to elevate it.  They still needed the I in RICE, but Mae hadn’t figured out a way to make ice and keep it from melting without power, so ice unfortunately wasn’t an option.

Levi ignored her ramblings about finding something for him to do in his spare time, instead keeping his gazed fixated on that goddamn hayfield outside.  Mae was starting to get a bit jealous that it seemed to be claiming so much attention from her first human interaction in months.

“Are you using the hay?”

Mae blinked, thrown off by the question as she glanced out the windows towards the field in front of the farmhouse.  “Not really.  It’s pretty much decorative for the country painting I’m never going to attempt.  Why?”

“What do you want for it?”

Another one of their increasingly common silences passed.

“...You want the hay?”

Levi slowed down what he was saying when he saw her staring at him like he’d grown another head, speaking like he was talking to a child.  “What do you want for the hay?”

“Nothing.  I don’t have a use for it...I’m not losing anything if you take it.  Have at it.”

Now it was Levi’s turn to stare at her blankly.  Apparently he hadn’t been expecting that answer.  “There’s got to be something you want for it.”

Mae shrugged.  “I mean, if you’re looking at it as a constant supply, I suppose that means I get to see a non-hostile living being regularly.  Take the time to at least have something of a passing conversation, and I’ll consider us even.”

And now she was getting that probing look, his eyes sharp as the steel their color emulated, trying to pierce through her and get inside her head, his arm laying on the back of the couch, one of his fingers tapping thoughtfully and softly against the couch.

“No one still alive is this giving.  This trusting.  What’s your angle?”

Mae let out an admittedly frustrated sigh, coming around to stand directly in front of Levi, smack between Levi and his view of the field.  “I already have everything I need.  Everything but human contact--that’s what I need most now.  To me, I am getting something I desperately need in return, even if you don’t think so.”  Mae held his gaze, folding her arms over her chest.  “So that’s my price.  You don’t have to be a friend or anything, maybe we end up not being able to stand each other, I don’t know...I just want someone I can see every now and then, someone I can talk to that might actually say a few words back.  Even if it’s just a few minutes of passing conversation, I’ll consider that payment enough.”

While Levi didn’t answer or necessarily agree to anything, since he didn’t ask any more questions, Mae assumed that was the end of the conversation.  Dropping her folded arms, she shrugged her hiking backpack off her shoulders, turning to head back upstairs.

“Get some rest.  I won’t be making dinner until after my post-run chores, so there’ll be plenty of time to kill until then.”

Next Chapter --->

Tags:  @humanitys-hottestsoldier​ @arthurmorgan-wiki​

#survive or live #levi x oc #levi ackerman x oc #levi fanfic #levi fanfiction #levi fan fiction #levi ackerman fanfic #levi ackerman fan fiction #levi ackerman fanfiction #levi ackerman #captain levi #levi #zombie apocalypse au #oc #original character #levi x original character #levi ackerman x original character #levi au #levi ackerman au #captain levi au #captain levi fanfic #captain levi fanfiction #captain levi fan fiction #levi aot #aot levi #levi aot fanfic #levi aot fanfiction #levi aot fan fiction #aot levi fanfic #aot levi fanfiction

[heylookafanfic]

A Dish Served Cold: Chapter 1

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader, Hank Voight x Reader

brief summary: Hank Voight was the most ruthless man in Chicago. It’s practically a death wish to hurt anyone he loves. When a former inmate is released from jail, they go for his weak spot to seek revenge.

Author’s Note: Hey howdy ho! This is my 1st story ever so please show it some love if you liked it and also, don’t forget to tell me if you want a part 2 because I’m itching to write a 2nd chapter but only if this chapter does well.

word count: 2,079 words

requested: Nope, original! (send in those requests!) warnings: kidnapping, being held at gunpoint, copping a feel, death of a loved one, finding out a loved one died

Jay Halstead had not only been your partner but your childhood best friend. You consider yourself lucky that the universe would keep the both of you close for so long. Not only did you get to work with your best friend but your boss, the notorious Hank Voight, was your godfather. Hank became your godfather before you were born.

*Flashback*

Your father was his partner and best friend and when news got around the CPD that Officer Y/L/N and his wife were expecting, Hank was the first one to know and consistently check up on your mom when your dad was working overnights. While they were planning things for your birth, your parents knew that if anything were to happen to them, Hank would go to the ends of the universe to keep you safe. It was a no-brainer to make him your godfather.

One day, they invited him over for dinner to ask him. He nearly choked on his wine when they did. That was possibly one of the best moments of his life, especially knowing that he’d have a kid in his life, although it wasn’t his biological child. When you were born, he couldn’t believe his eyes at how precious you were. From that moment, his mission in life was to ensure that even the smallest of threats would never even find out about you. He chaperoned every school field trip, cheered you on through your sports phase, attended every birthday party, dance recital, and school function. Jay was intimidated by him because although you two were best friends, your uncle made sure it stayed that way by keeping him in check.

Flash forward to your 8th grade year, you had the perfect life. Perfect grades, a tight knit family that supports you through everything, and an amazing friendship in Jay. What could be better than that? The evening you left for soccer tryouts was an evening you’ll never forget. In the middle of doing drills, a CPD vehicle rolls up to the parking lot of your school’s field. A man hops out of the driver's seat and talks to the coach.

“Y/N! Come here kiddo”

You jogged to the two men

“This is Officer Olynski with the Chicago Police Department. You need to go with him, okay?”

“Why? My mom is picking me up at 7:30” you asked

“Hey Y/N, I’m a friend of your dad and your uncle Hank. Your uncle wanted me to pick you up early. Is that cool with you?” Officer Olynski asked

“Um, okay I guess?” you responded

You grabbed your gear bag and hopped in the back seat.

The ride to your house was quiet other than Al’s walkie-talkie.

“What’s going on?” you asked

“Your uncle will tell you all about it when we get to your house” he said

Only a block away from your home, you could hear police sirens wailing. It wasn’t just one, it sounded like multiple. Butterflies started settling in your stomach. As Olynski pulled up to your house, you could see police tape surrounding your yard and multiple police cars parked in the front.

“What’s going on?” you asked with a shaky breath

Hank comes out of the front door and walks to the car. Opening the back door, he slides in the back with you.

“Uncle Hank, what’s going on? What happened?” you asked

He had looked like he just cried. You had never seen him like this.

“What happened?!” you shouted

He and Al gave each other sad glances.

“Kiddo, I’m so sorry”

“What do you mean?”

The car went quiet

“Your mom and dad died” he said

Everything went silent. Nothing made sense. This had to be one giant prank, right? The world seemed to slow down, time stopped and you felt lightheaded.

“Y/N?” Al asked

You sat there and still couldn’t process the news. Your uncle hugged you and sat in the back with you for what seemed like forever. The two of you cried together but Hank knew he had to be strong for you. From that moment, his duties of godfather began and he didn’t miss a beat hopping into action.

*Present Day*

You had a great job with an even better crew to work with especially because Jay was your partner. He had always made it a thing to walk you home after any event. 8th grade formal? High school homecoming? Soccer practice? Even at your parents’ funeral, he was there for you through all of it. Ever since childhood, making sure you got home safely was his number one priority.

It had been a long day, considering you just finished a 12 hour shift. Chasing after the bad guys,

You were in the locker room, packing up before clocking out. As you're stuffing your uniform in your duffle bag, a voice calls out.

"Y/N? You in here?"

"Yep, right here"

Jay appeared from behind the row of lockers.

"Hey, you ready? I wanted to stop by Molly's real quick before we head home. That okay with you?"

"Yeah, I'll be out in a sec" you said

He shot you a smile and left to clock out.

You grab your duffle bag, close and lock your locker and leave.

"See ya Trudy!" you said walking past the front desk

"Have a good night kiddo! Don't forget, I need those reports by Tuesday" she said

"Noted!"

Jay was in the front of the precinct waiting for you as usual.

"It's about time!" he joked

The two of you were on the way to Molly's. Tonight was fundraiser night and neither you nor Jay were ones to socialize but everybody there is practically family so stopping by for a few minutes wouldn't hurt.

"Remember in 1st grade when you got mad and put glue in Chris Henson’s hair because he didn’t pick you for kickball?" you asked

"Of course! The kid had it coming" he chuckled

"Looking back on it, it’s funny how we got pissed off over stuff like that as kids”

"See, and this is another reason why I’m thinking about not having my own kids one day. The kids gonna get my mischievous gene and get in a fight, I’ll have to do the drive of shame to their school and then I’m gonna have to play bad cop”

"You really thought that deep into that situation? " you chuckled

"Oh - hey, I need to stop by Mike’s real quick and grab some cash"

"Good call, I forgot the bar is cash only tonight”

Stepping into Mike’s Convenience Store, you heard the bell above the door chime. The cashier gave you two a quick “Hello” and you head to the back to use the restroom while Jay used the ATM. 4 men walk in moments after and one stands behind him. Thinking that they were waiting to use the ATM, he didn’t think much of it. The machine dispensed his cash and he quickly puts it in his wallet. It was eerily quiet despite the broken store radio playing static.

One of the men walks over to the door and locks it. Jay was on high alert. “Shit” he thought to himself. Suddenly, another man, this one stockier than the others, pulls a gun from the back of his pants.

“Jay Halstead” the man said menacingly

He sighed and turned around

“This moment has been 4 years in the making, my friend.” the man said holding Jay at gunpoint

“Listen, I don’t want any problems” Jay said

“Shut up! I’m gonna talk and you’re gonna listen”

All he could think about was you. If you walk out of the bathroom, you’ll be in the wrong place at the wrong time and if anything were to happen to you, he could never forgive himself. He hoped that by some circumstance, the door would jam so you’d be safe.

“Do you remember me?” he asked

Jay shook his head

“You really don’t remember me, do you?” he asked again

Jay got a good look at the man’s face. It still didn’t ring a bell.

“Let me introduce myself then. Andrei Romero. You arrested me at the corner of Beacon and Oxford about 4 years ago. There was a warrant out for my arrest because I was tied to a double homicide involving one of your officers.”

That’s when it hit him. October 7th, 2015. The day his partner, Erik Steele, was killed on duty. How could he forget? That was the worst day of his life. He and Erik were dispatched to do a welfare check on a house when neighbors heard screaming. Erik knocked on the door but it was cracked open. Guns drawn, they carefully went in and announced themselves. Still no answer, Jay searched up stairs and Erik searched downstairs. Just as soon as Jay gave the all clear for upstairs, 3 gunshots were fired. He ran downstairs and saw Erik on the kitchen floor with a bullet hole in his neck and blood quickly painting the tiled floor red. There was nothing he could do for him but begin basic first aid, call for an ambulance and wait.

“Sounds familiar” Jay said gritting his teeth

“You were also there when Voight interrogated me. He told you to leave but what you don’t know is, after you left, Hank threatened me with jail time if I didn’t confess to who did it. He knew I was innocent. He got me sentenced to 4 years for a crime I didn’t commit. 4 years of my life...gone. My wife and kid? They wanted nothing to do with me and-”

You walked out of the bathroom and walked to the front of the store.

“Jay, how much did you withdr-” you spoke

Unknowingly, you walked right into your worst nightmare

“Look what we have here. Officer Y/L/N.” the man said

Your legs went numb and your feet got cold.

“This just gets even better! Don’t be shy, join us.”

You looked at Jay and he shot you a glance as to say “just do whatever he says”. Romero’s men quickly patted you down with one of them trying to cop a feel.

“You son of a-” Jay flinched

Romero shoved his gun back in his face.

“Have some decency fellas” Romero said slyly

You yanked your arm from one of his men and stood next to Jay

“Officer Y/L. Godkid of Mr. Hank Voight. Don’t you think it’s pretty risky being out this late? There’s a lot of people who love to use you to get to your godfather.” he said

“And why is that?” you asked gritting your teeth

“You don’t know what Voights been up to huh? He’s been hiding things from you, thinking you’ll never find out but karmas finally catching up to him and I’m sorry but this starts with you”

“She has nothing to do with this! Leave her out of it!” Jay shouted

He grabbed your hand, gripping it tight.

Romero’s men stepped forward as he shifted the gun towards you

“You can make this real easy or extremely hard Y/N. Either come with us or-”

He shot a bullet at the ATM

“-the next shot won’t be a warning” he continued

Jay looked at you with fear written on his face and shook his head. Although Hank is your godfather, Jay vowed to protect you too after your parents died and when Al paired you two as partners in your rookie year at CPD.

You looked at Jay and took a deep breath. Letting go of his hand was one of the hardest things you had to do. Hank had taught you enough basic self-defense to take care of yourself so, you knew you’d be fine. When Jay wouldn’t let go of his grip, you wiggled your hand out of his.

Romero’s men grabbed you and held you at gunpoint.

“Tell Voight we stopped by won’t you Jay?” Romero said with a wink

“Oh, and if you want to play ‘hero’? Don’t. You do, and they die” he continued

You didn’t get a chance to look at Jay before you were carried off into their van.

Mike’s Convenience Store was empty and so was Jay. His partner - no, best friend vanished before his eyes and he knew that statistically, the first 48 hours that a person is missing were critical and after 48 hours, their chances of being killed/ never being found doubled.

Y/N’s 48 hours started now.

Author’s Note: Thanks for reading!! This is my 1st story ever so please show it some love if you liked it and also, don’t forget to tell me if you want a part 2 because I’m itching to write a 2nd chapter but only if this chapter does well.

#jay halstead #hank voight #jay halstead imagine #hank voight imagine #jay halstead x reader #hank voight x reader #cpd imagine #chicago police department #Chicago police department imagine #imagine #avengers imagine

[heatherhollowayst]

can i request a billy hargrove one where the reader and the kids are all together doing the sauna test on billy and the reader tries to bring billy back by reminding him of his mom just like el did on chapter eight? thanks love ;))

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Reader

Warnings: you already know there is gonna be some angst and swearing, st3 spoilers

A/N: Billy doing the sauna test makes me cry. Requests are still open!

God, Y/N really hoped that Billy wasn’t the one being possessed by the mind flayer. There had to be another valid reason as to why Billy wasn’t returning her calls or why he had been avoiding her for days. Y/N assumed it was because of their argument right before he drove away in a fit of anger, but Billy and her never fought like this.

When the party invited Y/N to help out she instantly agreed, hoping this could give her closure on the argument. The party had been setting up for the test most of the day, going over the plan and rehearsing a couple of time.

It was finally time to do the test that they had practiced too many times to count. The pool was closing, kids and their parents began to leave and the sun set behind the hills. Y/N knew that Billy always took a shower after his shift.

“Billy..” Mike called over the walkie talkie. Billy turned off his cold shower to hear the voice better. “Come get me, Billy.” Mike called over again.

“Pool’s closed.” Billy said sternly before returning back to his shower stall.

“Billy!” Mike yelled this time. “I said-“ Billy walked back out of the stall and began to search the others, “The pool is closed!” ripping back curtain after curtain he found nobody. Billy walked towards the door that led out of the boys locker room, only for it to be slammed and locked in his face. “The hell?” Billy walked towards the source of the voice.

“Billy, come get me!” He was aggravated at this point, more so jogging than walking at this point. Billy turned the corner into the sauna room only to find a dummy they used to practice CPR on during training. He let out a loud grunt, turning back around to leave. When he pulled the door it didn’t open, the door being jammed by a broom stick.

“Let me out!” He screamed, banging on the small glass window that peaked inside the sauna. Y/N stepped out from where her and the rest of the party hid themselves. Billy froze like a deer in headlights when he saw Y/N. He instantly broke down, moving to sit on the ground, no longer able to stand up. “Billy?” Y/N stepped up to the glass to look at the heartbreaking imagine before her.

“I’ve done things, Y/N. Really... bad things. I didn’t mean to.” Billy choked out between sobs. “He made me do it.”

Y/N swallowed thickly, “Who made you do it?” Her heart was pounding out of her chest, aching at sobs she heard coming from Billy.

“I don’t know, it’s like a shadow. Like a giant shadow.” Will looked at his friends, they could practically see the words in his eyes. It was the mind flayer.

“What did he make you do?” Tears welded Y/N’s eyes. “It’s not my fault, okay? Y/N, please.” He begged her to forgive him. “Please believe me, Y/N. It’s not my fault.” Y/N shook her head, looking down and finally letting herself cry freely. Max stepping beside her, hand going on her shoulder for comfort.

“I tried to stop him, okay? I did. Please believe me, Y/N” Y/N stepped out of view from Billy, sitting on one of the press (?) benches.

Suddenly Billy’s body was over come with black veins, his eyes going dark. He stood from his laying position and walked over to the glass. “Let me out!” He screamed again. Max shook her head, “We want to help Billy! We just need you to talk to us!” Billy chuckled, punching out the glass window and moving the broom out the door. He was dead set on getting to the party.

“Seven feet!” Y/N screamed, stepping between Billy and the party. Everyone stared at her with confused and/or scared looks. “You told her the wave was seven feet.” Billy stopped in his place. “You ran to her on the beach.” He just- looked at Y/N, eyes turning blue before anything else. “She was pretty.. She was really pretty.” Billy closed his eyes. “And you.. You were happy.”

Billy covered his ears and screamed a deafening scream. El quickly took her shot to push past Y/N and use her powers to throw Billy through the wall and to the patch of grass out. Moments later Billy ran into the nearby woods.

“Shit.” Y/N said as she watched him leave.

#billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove #stranger things 3 #st3 spoilers

[bluedraggy]

Beatrice Santello Part 2 - #8

This chapter is a little shorter than most, but I felt it was appropriate place to end it. There’s quite a bit packed in I think

Image by teckworks. Nothing particularly related to the story, it’s just a purdy Bea.

“Bea,” Gregg said from behind her, his voice uncommonly soft. “We should go.”

Bea looked up at him, her eyes streaked with tears and saw that he too had been crying, reminding her that he had been very close to Casey as well. She stood and gave him a sincere hug which he accepted and returned. 

“Wait. Let’s take his skateboard back.”

The two tied the broken and splintered remains to the rope and called for it to be brought up. Germ attached it to Mae’s rope and she managed to get it through to where she waited while Gregg tied off the flamethrower and Germ did the same with it. However they had only one flashlight and they decided Gregg should take it up with him before lowering it back down, which would leave Bea alone in the dark.

Bea helped Gregg get into the harness and he began to climb. The ascent was much slower, but Gregg was the most physically fit of them all and once he got up to Mae’s rope she was able to help.

Though Bea wasn’t prone to fear of the dark, watching the bobbing light slowly fade above her as the shadows gathered around her with nothing but corpses to keep her company did cause her heart to beat a little faster. She tried not to think about it, but the minutes dragged on and it was the silence that really began to gnaw at her.

She began to sing quietly.

“I just want to die anywhere else…”

She wondered if Casey would have preferred this dark pit to Possum Springs.

“If only I could die anywhere else…”

Why had she been so mean to him? She could have just gotten angry and demanded he stop the drugs - or at least keep them out of her store. She didn’t have to end their relationship so abruptly.

“So come with me, let’s die anywhere else…”

The tears started again as Gregg disappeared from view and she was left in total darkness, deep underground with the bones of her former boyfriend. She felt dizzy and moved closer to Casey. She touched his hoodie, now dry and brittle, like the rest of him.

“Anywhere…”

She gathered the folds in her hands and felt the bones within. “I’m sorry, Casey,” she thought through blind, wet eyes. “I hope you forgive me. Wherever you are.”

“Just not here…” 

Her voice cracked at the words.

Then she let the silence wash over her, and for a moment dreamed that she was alone with Casey, and he hugged her back, assuring her that all was forgiven.

“You okay down there?” came Germ’s voice from far above her. It bothered her. It threatened to take her away from Casey and she didn’t want to go. Not yet.

“Bea?” came the voice again.

She didn’t want to hear it. But Gregg’s voice followed.  

“Bea, I’m sending the flashlight back down.”

She kissed Casey in the dark and whispered to him. And he whispered back.

“I’ve got to go,” she said as the light slowly returned.

“I know. But it’s okay Bea. I’m okay where I am.”

“I don’t want to leave you,” she whispered.

“You’re not leaving me, Bea. I’m not here. That’s just my body. I’m not in there anymore. You take me with you.”

“Am I just talking to myself?”

The flashlight came into view. For a second, she saw Casey standing in front of her. Not an incorporeal wisp, but as she had seen him long ago in the Grant house.

“No,” he said and smiled, then faded as the light came to a stop, resting on the floor.

“BEA!” called Gregg from above, and she opened her eyes.

She stood up and walked to the flashlight and harness, strapping herself into the harness and putting the flashlight around her head. She looked back - not at the body, but at the place where he had been. She smiled, and realized it didn’t matter if it had been real or not. It was real to her. Casey had absolved her of her guilt, and she felt better than she had for a long time.

“Goodbye Casey Hartley. I loved you,” she whispered. Then she looked up.

“I’m coming, Gregg!” she called up. “Just had to say goodbye.”

Then she began to climb. It was awkward, and more than once she had to pull the rope up, using the friction from the loops around the carabiner to rest, but slowly she rose out of the pit, getting help from Mae, Gregg and Germ as they helped pull the ropes up as best they could.

Finally she saw Germ and Gregg above her, and they scrambled to catch her hands and pull her back up to the ledge where she stopped to rest.

“Are you okay Bea?” Mae’s voice asked from the other side of the little tunnel.

“Yeah. I think I am,” Bea replied, though she was still breathing hard from the final effort. Mae’s voice sounded strained too, though, and she realized how hard her friends had also worked to get her back up.

“Thanks, guys,” she said, feeling like the words were inadequate but hoping they understood.

It took another hour to get everyone completely out of the pit, and plenty of scrapes and bruises were had in the end, but they managed it. 

Mae hugged her tightly when finally she emerged from the tunnel underneath the slab, and she returned the hug.

“I’m okay, Mae.”

“I know. But I was worried when you didn’t answer them back!”

“Sorry. I was…  I don’t know. I was somewhere else.  Let’s get back to Angus.”

“Yes, please!” said the staticy voice over the walkie-talkie.

#bea santello #beatrice santello #nitw #night in the woods #fanfiction #unofficial sequel #mae borowski #gregg lee #jeremy warton #casey hartley

[revengeworld]

Let the Past die. III

CHAPTER 3

Zombie Apocolypse AU

Kylo x Reader (+ Solo siblings)

Words: +1.700

Warnings: Mentionings of Blood and well ... Zombies :D

AN: Sorry if this chapter is a little bit all over the placeand short, but it was one hell of a stressful week. I hope you enjoy this Chapter none the less though. Here is a little bit of Angst and Fluff before next weeks chapter hits :>

MY MASTERLIST

REQUESTS

Previous Chapter - Starry Night

Chapter 3 - Static

“Matt, how are you doing over there?” Kylo was carrying two canisters of destiled water in each hand and placed them outside the gas station next to their filled backpacks.

“It´s almost full, just a few more minutes.” his older brother explained while pushing his glasses up again.

“Well then I get some more food and tell the kids that we´re back soon.” munching on a chocolate bar, Kylo made another round through the empty shop and put everything they could use into one of the shopping bags from the counter.

Throwing in travel toothbrushes, toothpaste, maps, small bottles of juice for Ben and Y/N and basically everything he could basically find.

Even a bottle of alcohol went into the bag, since he knew they didn´t have much disinfection spray.

He stopped in front of a shelf, looking at a cheap Polaroid camera and threw it in as well as some films for it before returning outside.

“You shouldn´t take so much, other people could need it as well.“ Matt suddenly mumbled and Kylo only cocked a brow.

“Do you really think somebody else would care about the well being of others in this kind of situation? Everyone fends for themselves, the world has always been like this. Now they just don´t have to act the nice part anymore.”

Sometimes Kylo couldn´t believe how naive his older brother could be, maybe that was why he turned out to be so sceptical.

“Y/N, we are almost done here. How are things on your End?” when he loosened the grip on the walkie talkie the only thing he could hear was the static crackling threw the speaker.

“You hear me?” another moment with no answer and his head snapped to Matt who looked back at him while the canister in his hand got dangerously full.

“You don´t think something happened?” Matt quickly shut the Gas of and screwed the lid shut, while Kylo threw the backpack over to him, quickly pulling his own over his shoulders and grabbing the big cans of water.

While they were stumbling through the field, Kylo tried to reach out to her via the Walkie Talkie until he suddenly heard Bens quiet voice.

“Please come quick...” the small boy whispered before the static rung in their ears again.

Immediately starting to run, both of them couldn´t stop to think of the worst case scenario.

When the truck came in sight both of them slowed down to catch their breaths, Kylo letting out a relieved sighed.

Y/N was sitting on the cargo bed, staring into the other direction while Ben was looking out the window from the drivers cabin.

Continuing their walk Matt and Kylo arrived with heavy breaths and let the heavy loot fall onto the ground.

“What the hell happened?” leaning against the truck he followed her gaze and grabbed his knife.

“I´m sorry, I didn´t have time to respond and ...” shaking her head for a moment she looked at the bloody knife in her hand.

“They were attracted by the sound of that plastic bag when we stumbled over it. I tied it to the bush but one of them seemed to noticed us while we sneaked away.”

Kylo saw a body a few feet away and just nodded. “Thank you, for keeping Ben safe. I take care of them.”

Quickly grabbing Kylos shoulder, Y/N tried to hold him back.

“They are distracted, just let them be. We will be gone before they even notice.” she plead, not wanting him or anyone else in danger if it could be avoided.

Loosening her grip gently he turned back around to Y/N. “Would you forgive yourself if they would cross somebody elses path who isn´t as prepaired as we are?”

Looking into his brown eyes, she felt herself suddenly nodding and let go of his jacket.

“I´ll … I´ll help you.” surprised Kylo stopped in his tracks but helped her down from the trunk.

“You don´t need to do this.” he reminded her, but she had a stern look in her eyes.

“Nobody should be left in this kind of state. Who knows if they realise what their doing but just can´t control their bodys anymore…. And need to watch everything but can´t stop themselves. I wouldn´t want to stay like that.” clenching her hand around the handle of the knife, her knuckles slowly turned white.

“Alright…” he nodded, leading the way.

After filling the tank to the brim, Kylo went a second time to get more Gas and they adjusted all their belongings on the cargo bed so the middle was accessible for at least a sleeping bag or two.

It was tight but it would be good enough for the rest of the night and a good rest.

“I´ll take the first watch.” Kylo offered his brother, while looking over to Y/N and Ben who filled the driver cabin with a few blankets.

“No it´s alright I´ll do it. Just because Dad and Uncle Luke tried to make you into a fighter, doesn´t mean you always have to be one, you know?” the Blonde sighed, his voice filled with guilt.

Just because he was such a failure, his younger brother had to take this burden instead. Sitting down next to Matt, Kylo only gave him a light hit against the back of his head. Matt quickly grabbed his glasses so they wouldn´t fall off.

“Don´t worry about that. It comes in handy now doesn´t it.” with an encouraging smirk he laid an arm around Matts shoulders and pushed their heads together.

“You are my brother. No matter what happens and you always will be.”

“Maybe I would have been better as a little brother huh?” Matt laughed before they got distracted by footsteps.

“Sorry I didn´t mean to interrupt.” Y/N clutched onto the sweatjacket around her shoulder while circling to the end of the truck.

Both of the boys stretched a hand out to her, so she could join them on the trunk.

“Can´t sleep?” Kylo asked and Matt saw how his younger brother was looking at the girl. Shoving his glasses back onto his nose Matt could only smirk and hopped from the truck. “I´ll look after Ben.”

Y/N and Kylo looked after the blonde man, then at eachother and Kylo only shrugged with his shoulders. Seeing that she quickly pulled the Hood of her jacket over her head and pulling her legs close to her chest, he tried to reach for a blanket.

“No it´s fine.” Y/N tried to argue, but Kylo could see her shiver.

“You should at least get in one of the sleeping bags.” he countered sternly and the only thing she could do was to give in.

Crawling to the other end of the truck, she cuddled into the sleepingbag and leaned her back against the drivers cabin, before Kylo sat down next to her.

Squished against his wide shoulders and their bags, she suddenly started to giggle. “Well know i´m sure i´m not getting cold anymore.” she joked and a rare smile appeared on Kylos lips.

“I still can´t wrap my head around what has happened. A few hours ago I was worrying about my chemistry test and now ….” shaking her head for a moment, she pulled her legs closer again to rest her head on her knees.

“It seems to be some kind of infection. Mom told us that there were incidents already, but the government choose to not tell it to the puplic. They didn´t expect it to run wild in just a few hours.”with every word his voice grew deeper with anger.

“How does the infection work?” it was just a mere whisper, but he knew that she porpably had it on her mind for a while.

“Was there really no cure at all?” she didn´t cry, no sobs either and her voice didn´t break, but it still made his stomach turn.

“Not… for everyone.”

“So you lied to me?!” Y/Ns head snapped immediately up to look him directly in his eyes.

Laying his big hand onto her head, he sighed.

“No. No, I didn´t. It was to late for them… If you get bit or even scratched, the infection will kill you and then it is like a restart. But Nothing is left of the former self.” he explained calmly.

“So only those who just got infected but didn´t die can be rescued?”

Slowly nodding his head, Kylo sighed again and lifted his hand from her head.

For a moment there was just a comfortable silence between them until Y/N spoke up again.

“Kylo? I´m… I´m sorry for calling you a monster.” he could hear in her voice that she felt uncomfortable to bring it up again.

“Don´t worry. It´s not the first time I hear that. Really it´s alright.”

She scoffed and looked up at him again. “Well that doesn´t sound alright to me. Who said that?”

“Does it matter?” Kylo returned the question with a grin. Shrugging with her shoulders Y/N only sighed.

Feeling his enormous hand on her head again, she tried to look up. “But I appreciate your apology.”

With a grown she laid her head on her knees again and he rased an eyebrow.

“Everything alright?”

“I feel a little naceous...” she mumbled and it felt like a lighting bulb went off over his head.

“Shoot, you didn´t have any food! I totally forgot to give you and Ben the stuff we took.” lightly tapping onto the window from the drivers cabin, Kylo waited until Ben sticked his head up. “You hungry, buddy?”

“Starving!” his younger brother nodded and opened the window to take the plastic bag with snacks for him.

Handing Y/N the other bag, her Eyes widened at her favourite pie on top.

“I can´t believe you really got some!” she grinned and immediately bite into the sweet tart.

“Slow down, otherwise you´re gonna choke.” while laughing, Kylo offered her a small bottle of water.

While to other two were filling their tummys and Matt made another round, Kylo studied the maps again, before he noticed something heavy against his arm.

Looking down at it, he saw Y/N had fallen asleep and slowly sunk down against him.

Only a few more hours and their all would be in Washington and reunited with their Parents. At least that it was Kylo thought, not knowing how wrong he was.

NEXT CHAPTER - Nothing left

Tags: @karma-jolie - @hungrymango

#kylo ren #kylo ren fanfic #kylo ren au #kylo ren imagine #kylo ren x reader #kylo x reader #kyloxreader #kylorenxreader #star wars au #ben solo au #matt the radar technician #ben solo #matt the radar technician au #zombie au #zombei apocolypse au #matt solo #solo triplets #solotriplets #solo triplets au #solo siblings #solo siblings au #let the past die

[gaiyofanfiction]

Unexpected Consequence 9

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11

Got7 x Reader

Gang!Au

Angst

A/N: Hello everyone! We got such good responses from everyone, we wanted to continue this for our other stories. We have so much planned for BTS, Big Bang, Monsta X and more Got7, so please follow our profile so you stay tuned! Now, on to the next chapter. It might be a little confusing to pick up, but it's going between two different points of view kind of as both Mark and JB are explaining to the people they're with. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: This story is not in any way shape or form true. This is purely fiction. All the boys from Got7 are very sweet and charming guys that wouldn't hurt a fly. I love them all so much. So please, check them out! They are amazing people. Also, G-Dragon and T.O.P have been introduced. Those two are also the kindest and funniest guys out there, they are nothing like in this story. I will always consider Big Bang the king's of K-pop (they brought me into this fandom I can no longer escape from) and also wishing T.O.P a quick recovery!

Trigger Warning: There will be swearing, kidnapping, holding hostage, torture and mentions of killing and drugs. So if you are uncomfortable with any of this, please don't read!

Chapter 9:

       “What does he mean this is your fault, Mark?” Jinyoung demands, not taking his eyes off the psycho touching you.        Mark’s face twists in confusion. “I don’t know what he’s talking about.”

       G-Dragon cocks his head to the side. “Of course you know! The money you owe me? Remember?”

       Mark thinks for a second before it clicks in his head. At realization, his face turns white, eyes wide. “T-that’s why you took her?”

       Jinyoung and Bambam look at Mark. “What the hell is he talking about?!” Jinyoung asks again, patience growing thin.

        G-Dragon looks from Jinyoung and Bambam to Mark. Realizing what’s going on, he bursts into a fit of laughter, hands still on your shoulders. “Wait, you mean to tell me they don’t know?! Haha, this is rich!” He doubles over in psychotic laughter.

         “WILL SOMEONE EXPLAIN TO ME WHAT IS GOING ON!” Jinyoung raises his voice again.

         T.O.P smirks, playing with the knife against Bambam’s throat. “Well, your little buddy Mark hasn’t been completely honest with you, it seems. The money that Y/N’s father owes Mark? That money belongs to us. He got his drug supply from us but didn’t have the money for it just yet. He swore that once he gave the drugs to Y/N’s father, he’d repay us. Well, as you know, he never paid Mark the money, which means we never got ours. So, since he doesn’t have the money but has the girl, she now belongs to us. It’s funny, considering he developed feelings for the little trash.”

         Jinyoung blinks, taking everything in. He slowly turns to Mark, who is frozen on the spot. “M-Mark, is this all true?” He stutters out to his friend.

         Mark swallows the lump in his throat and slowly nods. “Y-yeah. He’s right.”

         Jinyoung’s face turns red with anger. “So you mean to tell me that one of my best friends has been doing business with the man that made my childhood a living HELL?!” He takes a step toward Mark, his fists clenched. “I’ve been looking for him for over 5 years and you knew where he was THE WHOLE TIME?!” Mark takes a step back, eyes wide. “AND NOW HE HAS Y/N BECAUSE OF YOUR STUPID MISTAKE?!”

         Mark puts his hands up in defense. “Jinyoung, please calm down. I’m sorry! I needed a supplier a-and he was the only one with anything worth selling! And I didn’t know he was going to take Y/N, I swear!” Jinyoung keeps walking toward him. “I wanted to tell you but I wasn’t allowed to!”

        Jinyoung stops in his tracks. “You weren’t ALLOWED to? Who the hell else knew!”

        Jackson looks at Jinyoung with a hint of guilt behind his eyes. “I knew. And so did JB and Yugyeom. You, Bambam, Youngjae are the only ones that didn’t.”

        Bambam’s eyes grow wide. “Gyeom knew too?”

        Youngjae stiffens in his chair as he slowly turns to face JB and Yugyeom. “You two knew about this? Is that what you meant when you said you didn’t expect him to go this far?”

        Before JB could respond, they hear a loud yell, turning their attention back to the monitor.

        Just then, Jinyoung lunges at Mark, punching him straight in the face. Mark knocks backwards onto his back, cradling his face in his hands. Jackson grabs Jinyoung and pulls him back. “Dude, stop! I get you’re upset and you have every right to be! But now is NOT the time!”

        G-Dragon watches the exchange before yawning loudly, his arms sliding down your shoulders and hanging around your neck, chin resting on top of your head. “Well, this is getting boring.” He puts two fingers into his mouth and loudly whistles. The next thing you know, three guards storm the room, grabbing Jinyoung, Mark and Jackson. T.O.P and G-Dragon followed suit. “Don’t worry, I’m not done with you two.” G-Dragon winks to both Bambam and Y/N.

        Jackson, Mark and Jinyoung were taken off to another room. Youngjae looked to follow the different cameras and saw that they were placed in a holding cell down the hall. The cell was locked by a sophisticated locking system.

        “How could you betray us like that? I thought we were family…” Youngjae says as he slumps in his chair. “You too Yugyeom...”

        JB turns his back to sigh and leans against the wall. He bumps his head a couple times against the wall trying to find his words.

        Meanwhile, back in the holding cell, Jackson is still trying to hold Jinyoung from beating the living hell out of Mark.

        “LET ME GO JACKSON! HE DOESN’T DESERVE TO LIVE! HE’S A TRAITOR!” Jinyoung pants and grunts as he tries to work his way out of Jackson’s arms.

        “He’s no more of a traitor than I am, so hit me instead! Just leave Mark alone!” Jackson tries as much as he can to save his fellow member. Just then, Jinyoung stops resisting and his head is lowered. Mark is in a corner shaking; he sheds a tear.

        “W-why? Hyung…Why?” Jinyoung’s voice cracks.

        “I’m so sorry, please…forgive me. I didn’t always know it was G-Dragon and his men. When we were struggling for money for the gang, I didn’t have much other choice…” Mark looked straight at Jinyoung though he couldn’t bear to look back.

        “No choice!? HA! You really are despicable,” Jinyoung started to get angry again, but Jackson’s grip never let up.

        “Wait, please…let me continue. It hurt to see us struggle. All of us had already been through so much already. Business was starting to slow down and I was losing customers to other dealers. I found a couple guys that sold good product and for a reasonable price, but they only sold in pounds. I used up all the money I had to buy it…but I just thought about the long run. We started getting more customers again and our name was back on the streets. However, one day as I was going to pick up another batch, I saw G-Dragon. He pulled up in a really nice car and the guys I was buying from had given him a suitcase full of money. That’s when I knew…” Mark was trying so hard to keep his composure, so did Jinyoung.

        “When I heard this from Mark that he’s been buying from G-Dragon’s men all along, I had to make an executive decision,” JB explains to Youngjae while Yugyeom looks off into the distance. “I made a deal with Mark. He had to stay loyal to the group and does nothing more than just buy from them. He was to report to me of all his sales. Since Jackson and him worked so well together on the streets, Jackson of course knew. As for Yugyeom, I had to include him too because we needed the right weapons and tools to be prepared…for a day like this.” JB sighs again. He looks over to Youngjae to see his face.

        “You, Bambam and Jinyoung…you all act pretty tough and headstrong, but I knew what was there. Just a bunch of broken minds and broken hearts. What good would it have been if I were to tell the rest of you what was going on?”

        “Damnit, JB! Don’t we matter?” Youngjae exclaims.

        JB punches the wall. “Of course you do! It’s because you all do that I had to keep this a secret. You think I like hiding things from my own family!?”

        Mark slowly walks up to Jinyoung to put his hand on his arm. Jinyoung growled and punched Mark dead in the face. Jackson quickly pushes him and goes after Mark to get him back up.

        Wiping the blood from his mouth he says, “I deserve that. Jinyoung, I promise that my intentions were pure. I know I was buying from our rival gang, but I did it so we could have a place to live, food to eat, and be able to survive out here. When Y/N’s father came to me asking for such a large quantity I didn’t even think of the consequences. My mind only focused on the money…I never meant for all of this to happen. But, I kept my promise…I always kept my promise to help protect the gang. The family. And now Y/N.”

        It grew quiet in the holding cell. Jinyoung was fuming in one corner while Jackson and Mark were in the opposite corner.

        Youngjae skimmed through the different cameras to see how everyone was doing. He noticed it finally calmed down in the holding cell, but things were still not going so well for Bambam and Y/N.

        Static came through the speakers. “Bambam, talk to me, how are you?” Youngjae said into the microphone.

        “Heh, fine. You know me. Except this terrible feeling of, oh you know…Betrayal”. Bambam looked up to the camera and it was the face of disappointment and anger. It reached both JB and Yugyeom and sent chills down their spines.

        JB also explained the story to Bambam through his walkie-talkie, though Bambam did not have much to say back except, “Gyeom…really? You too? That’s what I’m most upset with.”

        Yugyeom quickly rushed to the microphone, “Bam…please. I had to protect you too. Just like JB said. We’ve all been through so much and…honestly, it was my request to JB that we didn’t tell you either. I knew that if you had known about this secret, you probably would have lost it and try to find BigBang and kill them. I can’t lose you, hyung…”

        “Ha…haha…HAHAHAHAHA!!” Bambam laughed hysterically. You notice his head is down and tears start to fall from his face.

        “Oh, Bam…” You say hopelessly.

        “Dongsaeng…damnit. Why do you have to be right?” Bambam sniffed and attempted to wipe his tears with his shoulder.

        JB motioned for Youngjae to get all the walkie-talkies onto the same channel so that he could make an announcement. He clears his throat. “All of you. I apologize for keeping such a secret from most of you. There really is no excuse for this, but if you need to blame someone, if you need to hate someone, then hate me. I am the leader and I am fully responsible for all of this. I guess it was bound to happen one way or another for you guys to find out, but I had my reasons. However, now we all need each other more than ever. We are a family and that will always come first for us. We did not get this far to fall apart. I love you guys. You are my brothers till death. What do you say? Bambam, Mark, Jinyoung...we in this?”

        Mark looks to Jinyoung for consolation. Jinyoung turns to Mark and smiles. “Fighting!”

        Mark responds with excitement, “Fighting!”

        Bambam chimes in, “Fighting! HAHAHAAAA!”

        You look at Bambam with confusion, but lets out a little giggle and a wink.

        “You got this Youngjae?” JB looks to him with newfound hope.

        “Let’s get our boys back,” he cracks his fingers and starts working away at the keyboard.

#got7 #got7 fanfiction #kpop #fanfiction #got7 angst #got7 gang #mark tuan #im jaebum #jb #Jackson wang #park jinyoung #choi youngjae #bambam #kim yugyeom #gaiyo fanfiction

[icecubelotr44]

Storybrooke has Fallen (3/?)

Summary:   Based entirely too closely on the movie Olympus Has Fallen. Secret Service agent Killian Jones has always taken his job seriously - perhaps a little too seriously if his supervisor were to have her say. But when terrorists attack the White House with Emma and her son inside, Jones will stop at nothing to find them and get them to safety.

Rated:  T, for violence, kidnapping, some dark themes

This is for the elusive @nothingimpossibleonlyimprobable on the occasion of her birth.  Which occasion, I won’t tell you, but suffice to say, she’s a few days younger than me.  Also, tagging @killian-whump​​, @xhookswenchx, and @cocohook38​.  Adding in @eala-captian​, @snowbellewells, @jsilva0117, and anyone else who’d like to be tagged.

Word count:  ~ 4,600

From the beginning: ao3 / ffn

Current Chapter: AO3 / FFN

“Mr. Gold,” the terrorist barked, interrupting the staredown Emma had been sure she was winning with the former member of her protection detail.  “Who is this man?”

He said something else in Korean, but she didn’t pay any attention to it.  The last few moments were playing on a dizzying, endless loop in her head.

Henry.

Cerberus.

Leroy.

Henry.

Gold’s betrayal.

They wanted Henry!

She and David had the other two codes.

Henry was out there.

She couldn’t watch them kill David any more than she could Leroy.

But David might not listen to her orders if he thought it would protect her.

Henry was alone in the White House and there were armed men searching for her little boy.

She needed-

“Killian Jones,” Gold said incredulously.

Was he a God damned mind-reader now, too?

“And who might that be?”

Gold scoffed.  “He used to guard the President until he got cocky.  Lost the First Husband and got himself reassigned to a desk.”

Emma’s heart clenched a little bit.  She had done that to him, and now she was hoping and praying that Killian was going to forget about that and save her son.  And maybe her, too.  She didn’t really have to think too hard about that one.  Of course he was there, and of course he was going to rescue Henry.  That’s what he did.  He was a damned bonafide knight in shining (standard issue body-) armor hero, and she had been blinded by her grief when she tore out his heart and stomped on it.

She’d never even thanked him for saving her life that night.  For watching Henry when she couldn’t even manage breathing without collapsing in a puddle of uselessness.  For standing at attention when she tore him apart for doing his damned job, and doing it well.  Emma should have pinned a medal on his chest and made sure the entire world knew how good of a man he was.

Instead, she’d made him feel worthless and ignored his very existence for the past year and a half, despite Henry begging her to reinstate him.

She needed to survive this if only to apologize to them both.

“Are we worried about him?” the terrorists’ leader asked Gold.

“Not at all.”

Emma wanted to fall out of her chair laughing.  “You should be,” was all she muttered under her breath.

Hades nodded towards Gold.  “Go.  Find him.  End him.”

There was a moment where Gold looked hesitant, but then nodded and left the bunker.  Emma paled at the implication - Killian wouldn’t know that Gold was a threat, he might even trust the man to watch his back as he led him right to Henry.

No, she thought.  Killian was smarter than that.  He’d figure Gold out even more quickly than Emma had.  He and Henry would be safe.

And Gold wouldn’t be a threat much longer.

There was a woman at Cerberus’ computer, typing more quickly than Emma could follow, but it didn’t seem to be doing any damage - yet.  Still, she watched as fingers flew over the keyboard, praying endlessly for something to happen.

And then she was manhandled back to David’s side and left there to wonder what would happen next.

She didn’t have long to wait.

Killian didn’t have to think too hard about where he should start looking for Henry.  If the boy wasn’t hiding in his mother’s room, he would be in his own or in one of the spots Killian had shown him for just such a situation.  Not that he’d ever dreamed Henry would be in danger like this, but he hadn’t survived war and the last few minutes - hours? - by not being overly prepared for every situation.

It was eerily quiet in the halls, his own footsteps echoing loudly in his ears and making his blood pressure skyrocket.  Every foreign sound drew his attention, every odd shadow and stray flash of light inspected lest he be caught unaware.  There were bodies littering the hallways even here, men and women that he knew as well as strangers who had been caught in the building.  So much senseless death that needed to be atoned for, that he needed to ignore so he could focus on the mission.

Believer.

Henry’s designation, and the only person who mattered at the moment.

Killian ducked into a computer lab, logging on efficiently with one hand aiming his weapon on the door.  He shut down the surveillance cameras while he had the opportunity, not wanting the terrorists to follow him right to the First Son.

He’d never forgive himself for that.

Moving on, Killian took the stairs two at a time, senses thrown outwards and subconsciously monitoring the changes that had been made by the insurgents - the power was off, the air vents were clearly shut down, there were lasers across the windows attached to C4 blocks, no one moved through the halls.

It was exactly how he’d plot to take down the building, how he’d cause exactly this kind of chaos if it were up to him.

Killian shuddered thinking about who could have done this.

Finally entering the residential area of the White House, he slowed down and cleared each room.  So many guest quarters and lounges and offices, he’d known, had studied it, but had never really understood just how many places someone could hide here - even if they didn’t know the layout as well as he and Henry did.

As expected, the boy wasn’t in any of the rooms he cursorily searched.  Not that Killian was surprised, Henry was smarter than that.

And also only a kid.

He was scared, he was alone, and he’d want the familiar.

He’d want his mom.

Killian finally ducked into Henry’s room, searching under the bed and in the closet, behind curtains and between the dresser and the television stand.

He wasn’t there.

Nor was he in Emma’s bedroom, though Killian checked this even more thoroughly, assuming the boy would have come here.

Where was Henry?

He moved back out into the hall, letting his instincts guide him back through the rooms he’d already cleared.  Killian heard voices echoing down the hall and he ducked into the nearest room - the Lincoln bedroom.  Memories assaulted him as he crossed the threshold - playing cops and robbers in here with Henry on the boy’s first few nights in the White House, when his parents were busy making speeches and eating fancy dinners across town.

He hadn’t known Emma well back then, and Neal hadn’t trusted him yet, so he’d stepped back, letting the men who had been assigned to the previous President accompany the couple while he got to know their son.

The minute he remembered Henry telling him he trusted Killian that night - in between roughhousing and starting to teach the boy about what it meant to be so important in the eyes of the public - Killian knew.

Henry would be hiding here.

Killian had cleared the room before, but he had done so looking for threats, not Henry.  In here, he knew, there were plenty of spots to hide that the bastards from Korea wouldn’t know about.

In here, you could hide in the walls.

Killian heard the men from minutes ago coming closer, not doing anything to hide their approach.  If Henry wasn’t here, Killian was in trouble.  But he couldn’t help the boy if he were dead, and he was almost positive he was right.

He ducked into a hidden passageway, disguised by wainscotting, just moments before the men burst into the bedroom.

More words in Korean, more reasons for Emma to be afraid.  

Henry was alone.

Killian would find him.

“Did Truman gut the White House interior in 1948 or ‘49?” Hades asked, pondering out loud.  “I believe it was ‘49.  Steel frame over the old stone walls, yes?”

Emma blanched.  Killian had been the one to tell her that - after a new, panicked agent had interrupted her meeting with the blasted Pope of all people to alert her to Henry’s disappearance.

It was the first of many such incidents, and Emma had learned quickly that if it wasn’t Killian telling her that her son was missing, he was definitely playing hide-and-seek in those walls.

The ones that, apparently, Hades knew about.

Please, God, let Killian have found him already.

The terrorist ordered something into his walkie-talkie, and Emma didn’t need to speak the language to understand that her son’s hiding spot wasn’t quite so safe anymore.

The latch snicked shut, and Killian froze, getting his bearings and also assessing whether or not his enemies had seen him disappear.  When they didn’t immediately flock to the wall, he padded stealthily away from what had once been a fireplace, holding his breath.

His weapon still pointed high, just in case, Killian listened for anything out of the ordinary.

There.

Quiet, terrified breaths.

Killian rounded the corner warily, the light from his gun leading the way.

“Henry,” he breathed out - barely audible.

Bright, tear-filled eyes met his own and Henry leapt from his crouch to wrap his arms around Killian’s neck.  Hot tears soaked the shirt Killian was wearing, and minute tremors wracked Henry’s entire frame, but he was safe, he was in Killian’s arms, and he was whole.

Hot tears pricked Killian’s own eyes, but he forced them back.  This wasn’t the time for relief.  

Henry wasn’t safe yet.

He gave the boy another moment of comfort before he pulled back, crouching down and steadying Henry against the stone wall that provided some safety should one of the terrorists open fire on the bedroom’s walls.

“Shh,” he cautioned, relieved when Henry nodded silently.

“Are you okay?” Killian asked, needing the assurance that his young charge was unharmed.

Henry nodded vehemently, almost too quickly, as if he were convincing himself.

Brave lad.

“I see this is still your favorite hiding place, aye?” he asked, pulling out the satellite phone to update the Pentagon.

Henry grinned.  “You taught it to me.”

He nodded, then held up one finger to signal the boy to wait.

“I’ve got Believer,” he whispered into the phone when the line connected.

He heard the sighs and cheers of relief - and so did Henry, if his grin was anything to go by.

“Finally,” Mary Margaret crowed, “some good news.”

Killian agreed.  “He’s safe.  I’m bringing him out.”

“What about my mom?” Henry asked when he hung up the phone.

Killian reassured him with what he hoped weren’t lies as he promised to protect Emma, that she would be okay.

And then he heard movement behind him.  He didn’t know how, but he knew they were about to be discovered.  They needed to move, and now.  Killian didn’t take a moment to contemplate, just grabbed Henry and started pushing him down the passageway with one hand, shooting behind him with the other.

He’d made it three steps when white hot pain lanced through his side, just under the vest.  It stole his breath and his steps.  Killian stumbled into the wall, pulling Henry with him to keep him shielded.  He reached shakily for his back, his hand probing until he found the bullet wound in his left side.  His fingers came away hot and sticky, the smell of blood heavy in the confined space.

“Killian!”  Henry cried quietly, his own little hand coming up to Killian’s stomach where the bullet had torn out of him.  How it had missed Henry was a miracle he didn’t want to think too hard about.

Through and through.  Needed aid but not immediately.

Henry was still the priority.

“We need to move,” he commanded, whether to himself or the boy, he didn’t know.

Slowly, surely, he pulled Henry down the passageway, limping with every step and cursing under his breath.  He was the only one here that could help, could save Henry.  He needed to keep moving.

The pain numbed as he forced himself to ignore it, his fingers tight in Henry’s shirt as he kept them moving.  A door loomed ahead and Killian knocked it open, falling to his back and aiming both back the way they had come and to the open hallway to his left.

No one was there.

Henry was on his knees next to Killian, pushing on the bullet wound and trying to stop the bleeding.  It fanned the flames in his side and tore a groan from his lips.

“It’ll keep, Henry,” he admonished.  “We need to move.”

Henry nodded, but the tears in his eyes were back.

“Are you ready to run, lad?”

Henry nodded again, clutching Killian’s hand tightly in his own.

They ran, Killian practically dragging Henry down hallways and stairs with far less stealth than he’d mounted them.  He had a plan.  Admittedly, it was fuzzy at the moment since he was mostly running on adrenaline and instinct - but it didn’t change the fact that his mission remained.

Save Henry.

Worry about Emma.

Save her.

Then, maybe, if he were still functioning, get some help for himself.

Killian burst through a doorway, gun cocked and ready, only to be met with more silence.

Perfect.

He pulled Henry along behind him, stumbling down the stairs into a basement and hoping that the vent here wasn’t sealed shut.  It was an old ventilation shaft, not attached to the newer heating system, and led straight up and outside.

“Okay, lad,” he instructed, reaching up for the grate.  “I need you to watch my six.  Can you do that?”

Henry nodded, but didn’t take his eyes off the vent.  “How are you going to fit in there?  It’s too small!”

He ignored the boy for the moment, reaching out to Mary Margaret to ensure there would be Marines, agents, the whole damn National Guard if he could swing it, waiting on the other side to get Henry to safety.

“Killian!” Henry cried again.

He turned to the boy.

Henry’s bright, imploring eyes broke his heart.  The poor kid was still terrified, all dirty from the passageways and covered in blood.  Killian’s blood.

“You’re coming with me, right?” he pleaded.

Killian crouched down, holding Henry tightly and looking directly in his eyes.  “I still have to go get your mom,” he reminded him.

Henry didn’t look convinced, eyeing the blood on Killian’s shirt.

“Look, it’s going to be okay.  It’s just like I taught you on the Rose Garden wall, yeah?  The chimney climb?”

“Yeah,” he croaked.

Killian nodded.  He could do this.  They could do this.

“Killian?” Henry pleaded.

He smiled reassuringly.

“I’m scared.”

“I am, too,” he allowed.  Killian knocked Henry’s chin gently, then reached for the badge he’d clipped to his belt earlier that day.  Before everything had gone to Hell.

“Here,” he directed Henry’s attention to it.  “This is yours now, you’ve earned it.  You’re one of us.  So I need you to be brave for me, aye?”

Henry’s fingers curled over the metal and he resolutely clipped it to his own pants.

“Okay, good man.  Up you get, yeah?  One foot on the front, one on the back and all the way up.”  He lifted Henry into his arms, stifling a cry as best he could at the insult to his side.

Henry scrambled into the vent and started to climb up, his eyes never leaving Killian’s.

“Believer is on his way up,” he chirped into the phone.

Voices.

Korean.

“Henry,” he hissed.  “Freeze.”

All noise stopped above him, and Killian moved away from the vent.  He ducked behind some boxes and waited, holding his breath, as one of the terrorists moved steadily down the stairs and directly for the open hole in the wall.

Killian started moving forward just as the man looked inside, and he could see the instant Henry was discovered.

He pounced before the alarm could be raised, wrapping his arm around the man’s neck and squeezing.

The man fought, elbowing him in the side and writhing, but Killian ignored it all, trying to maneuver his hands so he could snap the neck and be done with him.  It took longer than he’d like, but eventually he heard it, and his target slumped to the ground, lifeless.

“Go, Henry. Go!”

Killian sagged against the wall, holding his side tightly and riding out the pain as he waited, heart in his throat.  It seemed to take an eternity, and he strained to hear any sound coming down the ventilation shaft, any indication that Henry had been found by their men or, God forbid, the terrorists outside.  He was starting to wonder if he could even make it up the shaft after Henry if something happened, if his side would tolerate the -

“Believer received.”

Killian nearly wept in relief.

“Good job, Jones,” Mills cut in over the obvious cheering in the room where she was.  “Now let’s see if we can get the President out?”

“Aye, sir,” he acknowledged the order with relish.  Now, he could go find Emma.

Killian forgot to mention the sluggishly bleeding wounds in his side.

It didn’t matter.  He’d get to one of the first aid stations and pack the wound, keep himself functionable enough to keep moving.  There were caffeine tablets in the kits and that would have to suffice for now.

He found the station easily enough, biting back a grimace as the gooey substance filled the holes and stopped the bleeding.  Gauze taped over the wounds kept the stuff where it was and while he knew it was only a stopgap, Killian would take what he could get.

He was expendable.  Emma wasn’t.

The Pentagon needed to know more, they needed to know who had taken over the White House and how many men were still inside.  As he moved, he kept a mental tally of the dead insurgents, trying to gauge how many more he’d have to deal with.

He needed to find someone alive in order to force them to reveal the information he needed.  It didn’t take long.  One man, then two, fell under his attacks, duct taped and tied to chairs in one of the offices.  Killian hated this part of the job, didn’t think he’d ever have to deal with it again after he’d left the Armed Services, but he’d deal with that later, too.

Fear.  That was the only tactic these bastards were likely to understand.  Killian steeled himself and ignored the pull at his conscience when he stuck his knife through one of the men’s throats, killing him instantly and terrifying his other victim.

“Who’s your boss?” he hissed, brandishing the knife in front of the remaining man.

Gregory Hades.  Imported head of a paramilitary organization in North Korea who were known only for their brutal tactics and their love for dramatic showings.

Taking down the White House and taking Emma and her staff hostage certainly qualified.

Killian killed the other man quickly, ignoring the stab of regret - unarmed or not, this man had killed dozens of people in the last few hours and had signed his fate before Killian had ever caught him.  He cleaned the blood off his knife, sheathing it and checking on the wounds in his side.  He needed to rest, wanted to curl up in a corner and let unconsciousness take him, but there was still work to do.  A quick call to update the Pentagon later, and Killian was on the move again.

Every step felt like there was a hot poker digging into his side, the pain radiating down his leg and making him use the wall for support every few steps.  He forced himself forward, his senses thrown as far outwards as he could and that’s when he heard it.  

Footsteps.

Killian ducked into an alcove, counting the cadence of the steps and breathing quietly as he waited.  Whoever was coming down the hall wasn’t slowing down, so Killian waited.

Waited.

Pounced.

He grabbed the man by the collar, dragging him into the alcove and slamming him up against the wall.  Killian brought his gun up to level between the man’s eyes, hammer cocked and ready to fire.

“Gold?!” he exclaimed in pure disbelief.  He’d almost shot the one man in the building who was free and on his side.  “What the bloody hell are you doing here?”

It wasn’t long before Hades grew tired of watching Killian on the monitors the woman had restarted.  Emma heard him speaking over the radio, taunting Jones with his perceived failures, and she scoffed.  Killian Jones had never failed at anything in his-

“Maybe I owe you for giving me the chance to make up for that failure today.”

Jones thought he’d failed her?  God, she was going to have a long discussion with him about the pitfalls of his job when he got them out of this.

“I admire you for acknowledging your failure. But…”

Emma tuned him out.  She wasn’t going to listen to the lies that Hades tried to fill Jones’s head with.  She was just going to have to beat them out of him later.

“...looking for Henry?  You can stop wasting your men on that.  He’s already on his way to storytime.”

Storytime?  Emma’s heart soared.  That was a message for her.  Henry was safe; Killian had found him and gotten him to safety.  Tears stung the corners of her eyes and Emma bit them back harshly.  Her baby was okay.  And that meant Killian was coming for her, next.

“How’s your brother, Killian?” Hades ignored the information about Henry.  “Liam Jones, I believe.  All the way over in England, yes?    You take after him, don’t you?  Following in his footsteps trying to protect the world’s most powerful men and women.  Bet he’s not too proud of you, now.  Couldn’t be bothered to take you in after your fall from grace, could he?  Some big brother.”

Emma seethed.  She’d met Liam Jones a few times; the man was as loyal to - and protective of - his little brother as they came.

Killian’s laughter over the radio settled Emma.  Hades may be trying to get inside Jones’s head, but he’d picked the wrong way to go about it.

“I’ll be sure to let him know how little you thought of him when we’re laughing about how pathetic you are next time I see him,” Killian retorted.  “You’re just another bad story to share.”

The line went dead.

Emma looked over to David, sharing a conspiratorial smirk.  He, too, had heard the code words come over the radio, and knew that it was only a matter of time.

Then Hades was standing behind him and men were moving to drag him from Emma’s side.  She struggled to rise, not knowing how she’d protect him but knowing she needed to try.  One of Hades’s men grabbed her by the throat and slammed her back against the railing, his fist colliding with her cheek and making Emma see stars.  Ears ringing, ground tilting alarmingly, she slumped back to the ground, praying harder than she’d ever done before that David wasn’t the next casualty.

David was struggling, cursing, and fighting as he was dragged up before Hades.  They let him loose at the man’s command and he stood defiantly in the face of the terrorist.

“Mister Secretary,” he said genially, “your Cerberus code.”

“No,” David hissed.

Emma heard the blow that knocked him to the ground, but couldn’t see who delivered it.  He landed right by Emma’s head, the stubborn look in his eyes tinged with pain.

“David,” she pleaded, not ready to see what would happen next.

He shook his head before the men were on him, punching, kicking, stomping as he tried to bite back cries with each blow.  Emma could smell the blood, hear the force the men were exerting, see the strikes as they continued to fall.

“Please,” she begged, unsure of who she was really pleading to.

Hades raised his hand and the beating stopped immediately.

“Your code,” he demanded quietly.

But David just shook his head and locked gazes with Emma.  “No.”

Hades kicked him in the ribs so hard that he tumbled off the platform he’d been laying on.  The beating started again and David couldn’t keep silent this time.

Emma was even louder than he was, trying to get anyone’s attention.  Trying to save his life.  She wasn’t used to being ignored.

David was wheezing, the blood dripping from his mouth, his nose, his eyebrow.  The hard look hadn’t left his eyes, but it was muted in face of the agony he couldn’t hide from her.

“Give him the code, David,” she begged, unable to stomach the idea of watching her friend killed over it.  “Please, just give it to him.”

“No,” he wheezed, shaking his head as he forced himself to his hands and knees.  “They’ll have to kill me.”

Emma shuddered, a solitary tear tracking down her face.  “Give him the code, Nolan.”

David shook his head, glaring at her for pulling rank, and stayed silent.

Hades nodded again, and Emma heard the snap of ribs under the assault.

“Stop!” she cried.  “Stop it!”

She could see David shaking when they paused again, could hear the way his breath rattled.  “David.  I’m ordering you to give him your Cerberus code.  That’s a direct order from your Commander-in-Chief.”

She could see his heart break.

“Don’t worry,” she whispered.  “They’ll never get mine.”

Not now.  Not now that they both knew Henry was safe and out of reach.

Hades nodded and the men reached down to drag David to his feet.  He was barely able to stand, his knees buckling before stubbornly trying to support him once more.  Hades reached out and dragged a finger over the gash in David’s eyebrow, smirking at the hiss of pain it elicited.

“Your code,” he whispered, cocking his head to the side like it was a secret.

“It’s an order, David,” Emma reminded him, knowing what it would cost him to follow it.

Hades grabbed him by the throat and forced David to look at her.  “Sir,” he bit out, pleading to be allowed to sacrifice himself.

Emma couldn’t allow it.  “Tell me the code, David.  Now.”

“Yes, sir,” he croaked, sounding utterly defeated.  His voice broke on each digit, never looking away from her, and Emma almost felt like he was condemning her for saving him.

When the computer beeped jovially, indicating that David hadn’t tried to do something noble like lie, the men dragged him back to Emma’s side and dropped him to the ground without a care.  He could barely lift his head from the cold tile, and she almost hoped that he would pass out, would find some respite from the pain that was stealing all of his strength.

“I’m sorry,” she breathed out shakily.  “I’m so sorry, David.”

She wasn’t entirely sure, but she thought she saw him nod and then smile.  His eyes fluttered shut and everything went still.  Emma’s heart was in her throat as she watched his chest fearfully, waiting and praying to see it rise and fall.

It was small, but it was there.  He was alive, and now all they had to do was wait for whatever happened next.

#cs fic #cs ff #ouat fic #whump fic #cs au fic #my fic #storybrooke has fallen #killian whump #captain cobra #david whump #torture #charming being a hero #because that's what he does #killian being a hero #because that's what he does too #action/adventure #captain cobra is strong in this one #henry swan #( henry mills ) #same thing

[cactuspop]

Riverdale Recap: 2x05

This episode was a rollercoaster of emotions. I laughed, I cried, I cringed, I yelled at the TV - my four standard Riverdale reactions now that I think about. Keep reading for the best bits of Chapter 18 - When a Stranger Calls. 

If you missed the recap last week you can find it here 

Chapter 17: The Town That Dreaded Sundown

BEST DRESSED

There was no competition in this episode. Everyone bow down to the greatness that is Alice Cooper and her scene-stealing outfit. I actually burst out laughing when she walked out because it was so over-the-top and so totally and completely Alice. When she told Hal to "shove it", I may have snorted. This guy knows what's good: 

TALKY TALK: FAVOURITE QUOTES

"Archiekins, don't be jelly"

"Like Romeo and Juliet but we live happily ever after instead". This is what I want most in the world right now. Riverdale writers don't let me down!

"Archie, don't take this the wrong way but you are an epic buzzkill". LOL

"It's all just recycled banter and plunging necklines and throwing shade to distract us all from the fact that there is really nothing going on underneath. " Way harsh, but I thought it was a good line.

"We can walk it back later". WE BETTER BE WALKING THIS ALL THE FREAKING WAY BACK TO SEASON 1 BUGHEAD.

OMNOMNOM: FOODIE MOMENTS

Unfortunately, there was not a lot of omnomnoming going on this episode. Some dull looking canapes at the SoDale party and this 1-second grab of identified Serpent food that caught my eye. Onion rings? Tim Hortons?  We may never know. 

I will add that the picture of Pop with a plate of hamburgers at the Diner was absolutely adorable. I'm so glad we are seeing more Pop Tate this season. He is a gem! 

SHIP OF THE WEEK

Bughead only had one scene together but what a scene it was. It was absolutely heartbreaking to watch and I think we all knew how it was going to end (even if we kept telling ourselves that nothing could break these two apart because they are totally endgame). So thanks for a little bit of (bitter)sweetness before stabbing us in the heart, twisting the knife, ripping out our hearts and stomping on them. Thanks soo much. 

I will add that I did like seeing more of Archie and Betty's friendship (please don't hurt me, fellow Bughead shippers! Just hear me out). Archie and Betty have always been friends first, and that's the way I would like it to stay. Despite high school drama and them each having their own relationships, it's nice to see that their friendship is still solid and that Betty can rely on him to drop the dumbells for a second and help her. I know Jughead would help her in an instant too but he was a bit busy being bitten by rattlesnakes and screaming at people, so it was nice to see Archie step-up and help our number #1 girl.

INSIGNIFICANT BACKGROUND DETAILS

I don't hang out at biker bars on the reg, so I'm not sure if it's normal for money to be hanging from the ceiling.

QUESTIONS

Is the Red Circle business really over? If it is, I'd be asking for a refund on that t-shirt right about now.

 Will you ever be able to listen to the Lollipop song the same way again?

Can someone please explain to me what season it is currently?! Betty had a fan on in her room making me think it was warm, but then the Sinclairs waltz into the hotel wearing wool coats and furs. Continuity people! There was another fan at the school but Nick was wearing a chunky cream knit. I don't get it - does he have poor circulation?

Are there two black hoods? Keller said the letters weren't a match, meaning that there is a copycat or two black hoods (possibly working together?) Do we believe him or is this just another example of shoddy detective work?

I'm sorry, this might just be my Bughead shipper bias rearing it's ugly head, but what makes Jughead think he can step up as a leader of the Serpents? There would be gang members who are much older and have much more influence than him in the ranks. As if a 16-year-old boy (who just joined!) is going to have any sway over the direction the gang takes. Bless his cotton socks for trying.

How long do you think it will take Veronica to forgive Betty for her outburst? We know that grudges don't last very long if previous experience is anything to go by (e.g. Kevin).

Does anyone else want to see Josie and the Pussycats regularly kick-ass and take names?

What were they thinking having the waiters dress up in hard hats and denim at the SoDale launch? It was so tacky! I thought Hermione and Hiram were classier than that.

Were you surprised how quickly Archie went from "no drugs for me" to "give me all the jingle jangle please"?

Did you notice that Hal's had his hair done? Probably not. Life must be so tough for Hal living in the shadow of Alice Cooper.

How angry were you when Toni called Jughead "Juggie"?

#riverdale cw #riverdale #riverdale 2x05 #riverdale recap #riverdale meta #riverdale season 2 #riverdale thoughts

[thetimetravellinggaybar]

Chapter 8: The Royal We

It was nearing two in the morning when there was a loud clatter on the roof. Leaving only the time for the bar’s diminishing clientele to look up before the ceiling seemed to swell and burst, and a cluster of bodies fell through, landing with great commotion in a pile on the floor.

As the intruders extricated themselves from the heap, five figures distinguished themselves: three men in dazzling, ceremonial-looking military garb, lavishly bedecked with silk and velveteen; a woman buried up to the neck in duchesse satin, crinoline, pearl jewelry, and ribbons; and another in hunting dress, with black velvet gloves up to her elbows and thick furs draped over her shoulders.

They got up, dusted themselves off, and without a moment’s hesitation began to yell. Several seemed to be speaking Russian, and turned to each other in confusion before returning to the business of their complaining.

Feeling themselves ignored, they first looked around accusingly; then, assuming the problem must be the language barrier, all five, nearly simultaneously, switched to French.

One of the five - Grand Duke Dmitry Pavlovich of Romanov - was halfway through a sentence when, suddenly, his gaze stopped on a familiar face: that of Tsar Nicholas the Second of Russia.

“We were not informed that your Majesty was visiting! What a pleasant surprise!” He exclaimed, in French, before gesturing at the unfamiliar surroundings and switching to Russian again. “This… forgive me, but are we here on your orders, your Majesty?”

“Absolutely not. I am as baffled as the you,” replied Nicholas.

“Dima!” The call of the sickly sweet voice behind him made Dmitry freeze the moment he heard it. He didn’t need to turn around; he knew immediately who it was.

“Felix,” he muttered under his breath. The Tsar was looking over his shoulder - at Count Felix Yusupov himself, he knew - with one eyebrow raised. In skepticism, perhaps, or simply curiosity over the nickname. Dima. How dare you, Dmitry fumed. The risks you make me take, and for what? If the Tsar found out, where would you be? Where would we be?

But now the Count stood beside him and the Tsar had moved on from the topic without a word. He and Felix were discussing their sudden… transportation.

After a spat of conversation, the three decided that they could make nothing of it on their own, and weren’t there others who had come down with them? Perhaps one who spoke Russian, too.

The three of them turned, then, to the women beside them, who were making slightly less noise and trying to make sense the unusual surroundings. “You two! Do you speak French? What’s going on here?” Nicholas broke in, in French, interrupting their conversation.

“Of course I speak French! Who do think I am?” the two exclaimed simultaneously.

“Who are you?”

The more elaborately dressed of the two stepped forward. “Yekaterina Alekseyevna, Empress and Autocrat of All the Russias.” Her voice was ice cold. “What spectacular ignorance on your part. I am ashamed that any subject of mine should fail to recognize - “

“Subject!” Nicholas spat. “I am the subject of none! There is no man more powerful in all Russia!”

“Good thing, then, that I am no man.” Empress Catherine smiled a chilly smile, switching to Russian.

“Who are you? A Bolshevik? God forbid, a parlementarian? What is your business in - “

“Yekaterina Alekseyevna, Empress and Autocrat of All the Russias. Must I continue to repeat myself? Where are my servants? Who is responsible - ”

“I demand that you explain yourself!” Nicholas was furious. “I’ll have you know that I will have you executed for false claims to the throne.”

“Treason!” Catherine shouted. “My men! Treason! Have him arrested!” She turned away from the weakly rambling Tsar Nicholas and grabbed the first unsuspecting customer she laid her eyes on by the sleeve. She repeated her orders then, several times - first in Russian, then French, “Qu’on l’arrête!”, and German, “Verhafte ihn!”

When the man only stared at her blankly, Catherine turned away again in disgust. “Doesn’t anyone here speak Russian? Besides this madman,” she grimaced, glancing at Nicholas with utmost contempt. “Well some of you must speak French. Arrest this man!” she screamed, for the whole bar to hear.

At this point, the other woman, a Swede named Kristina, broke in, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Why exactly should this man be arrested? I am not familiar with either of you.”

“How many times must I repeat myself? I am Yekaterina Alekseyevna, Empress and Autocrat of All the Russias. I am feared throughout the the Empire and the world, and I will be respected.”

King Kristina of Sweden - for that was her title - only nodded along with an absent-minded grin. Little did she know, her own reign predated Catherine’s by more than a century. “You will excuse me, but I’m a little baffled. I’ve never heard of you, and given what your claims are I most certainly would have. Either there is a grave misunderstanding here, or you are quite mad.” Kristina smiled wryly. “I’m sure Emperor Mikhail the First will understand the situation at once, if I were simply to send him a missive? Perhaps have you tried for treason?” Her tone was mocking.

All of this was too much for Catherine, who broke out in fury and bellowed in French, “Seize her! Seize them all!” When nobody reacted, she went on: “Someone tell me immediately where I am and who engineered all this so I may have them executed at once!”

At this point, a woman in her early twenties, most likely a student at a nearby university, coughed nervously and raised her hand to catch Catherine’s attention. When the empress finally calmed down enough to listen, she began to speak, in rather rusty, accented French.

“Excuse me, Madame, but I think that you are maybe, uh…” she paused for a minute to look down at her phone, Googling some vocabulary, “a little inebriated, and… you should stop drinking and maybe go to your, ah, house or hotel.”

Catherine stared at her in utter disbelief. How dare anyone, especially someone of this intruder’s stature - dressed so shabbily, no marks of nobility, no… well, anything - dare to address her so?

“I cannot possibly believe i have to say this again. I am Yeka-”

“You are mad!” Broke in Nicholas II. “Yekaterina II is dead!”

“Nonsense!”

“Has been for two centuries now.” replied the woman with the phone, nodding tiredly.

For once, Catherine was silent. Suddenly, Kristina understood: this strange creature must be some aggrieved madwoman who, in a state of intoxication and with far too much money to her name, had taken to imitating an ancient monarch she’d read about in some obscure history book. Perhaps even in a legend. How tragic.

It was then that Nicholas decided to cut in. “I must admit I am no scholar, but I am quite certain... the great Empress has only been dead a hundred years, at most.”

“I can assure you I am not dead!” screamed Catherine, distraught.

“Look right here. Died, November 17, 1796,” sighed the young woman, holding up her phone. Catherine the Great’s Wikipedia page lit up the faces of the monarchs standing before her.

Kristina gaped. Catherine’s face was stormy with anger. “What is that unholy thing you possess? Must I remind you that divination is beyond illegal? Give it to me,” she barked. “You witch! Hand it over! Give it - ” Catherine snatched the cell phone out of the girl’s hand.

“Excuse me…” the girl made a feeble attempt to grab it back, but Catherine shook her off with a savage wave of her hand.

“Excuse me! Could someone - she just… she just stole my phone,” she mumbled. Someone nearby took out their phone to call the police.

When the cop’s walkie-talkie buzzed in his pocket, he was on his way to the precinct.

“Hey. You still dealing with the bathrobe gang?”

“Just on my way back. They’re at the motel down the street.”

“I have some bad news for you.”

The cop’s face fell. He knew what was coming. “Please tell me there aren't more…”

“Five of them, apparently, but only one is causing trouble. She stole someone's phone, and now she’s screaming about witchcraft. She says she's Catherine the Great, you know, the Russian Empress? And she has no idea what a phone is. I need you to go pick her up, return the phone and… you know. Just... deal with it, okay?”

Within minutes, he was back in the bar. It wasn’t hard to find the disturbance. A few very muscular butch women - Kristina of Sweden darting in among them - were busy wrestling the phone out of Catherine’s hands. Nicholas and his meagre entourage were a ways off, whispering conspiratorially to each other - given the circumstances it seemed best to stick with familiar faces. The other customers were clustered around them, eager to help but unsure as to what should be done.

“Right, stop fighting her. I’ll deal with this.” sighed the police officer. The women let go of Catherine, who dusted herself off then straightened out. Standing to her full height and striking the most regal, powerful and absolutely arrogant post she could muster, she addressed the cop, very patronisingly, in French.

“Hello, young man. I am rather surprised to find myself where I am now. I demand that I be returned to the Hermitage immediately.”

The officer, who spoke only barely enough French to pass his high school language course, was getting used to feeling baffled. He stared at Catherine for a minute, before looking around. “Can I get a translator, please?” He asked in English. “English? Anyone?”

Tsar Nicholas and the young woman whose phone had been taken stepped forward at the same time. After a brief exchange, it became obvious that Tsar Nicholas was the more competent translator.

The officer sighed deeply. This was definitely not going to be easy, and he didn't think he had room for all five of them in his car, he couldn’t leave the royals here and his translator was somehow the last Tsar of Russia. The officer briefly wondered if Nicholas knew he was going to be the last of his dynasty, but of course he didn’t. The most important thing right now was Catherine, as she still had the civilian’s phone. He needed to explain to her what was going on, and very much doubted that Nicholas would approve of his way of handling the situation. Royalty usually wants everything run their way and Nicholas would not be happy with returning the phone to the civilian.

After a few minutes, he decided just to run with the protocol and see where that got him. “Ma’am, please hand over the phone and wait quietly for your arrest.” This was of course said in English, but he glanced over at Nicholas curiously, hoping for a translation. Nicholas translated efficiently and fluently, with the only fault the omission of “Ma’am” and “please”, but this was surely no mistake. Catherine, of course, was not compliant, and was determined to keep the phone. She had tuned out what anyone was saying and was slowly reading her own Wikipedia page.

Since she was not moving, the officer found it easy enough to surprise and handcuff her. As expected, she was absolutely furious and started lashing out viciously. Luckily, the officer had prepared for this and responded quickly. He shot a blank in the air and made use of the general confusion to put Catherine to the floor and grab the phone from her.

“You are under arrest for theft. You have the right to remain silent. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one shall be provided for you.” Nicholas stared at the police officer in disbelief. Surely since Catherine thought herself Russian then He, the Tsar, should be deciding her fate.

“Excuse me, I think I'll do that bit. This is my subject “ said Nicholas. As an add on, he went to take the phone from the police officer, who pointed his gun at George. “If you try and interfere with the legal proceedings, I will be forced to arrest you as well. Don't make this harder for me. You know she isn’t yours. Surely you can tell something is wrong.”

It took Nicholas a few seconds to recover from the shock. He was an ally and an honoured guest in this country and it’s lowers had no right to treat him as such. “Mutiny! Revolution! Seize him! He's a madman listen to what he's saying.” announced Nicholas. Realising that something violent might happen, the gang of butch women quickly swooped behind Nicholas and, two on each arm, and positioned him in front of the officer, on the floor, next to Catherine, in a position that made it easy enough for the officer to handcuff the King.

“You are under arrest for disorderly conduct, violence towards a police officer and attempted theft. You have the-” The officer tried to end his usual mini speech but was cut off by Nicholas. “Do not ever attempt to tell me what I can and cannot do! Unhand me at once!” He bellowed. With a very decisive lurch, he tried to get up. Unfortunately for him, it becomes harder to balance when your hands are cuffed and he was quickly returned to the floor.

Seeing the state the officer had put their Tsar in, Felix rushed to his assistance. Dmitry, however, grabbed his wrist and held him back. “It might be best to remain free, at least for the moment. We can follow him, ask to escort him.” said Dmitry.

Felix nodded. “As you like. Caution doesn’t usually agree with me, but I will admit I’m a little disoriented.”

Dmitry almost smiled. If only Felix were always so thoughtful. “Excuse me,” he tapped the officer’s shoulder. “Excuse me. I am Grand Duke Dmitry Pavlovich of Romanov. This man,” he gestured to the handcuffed figure of Nicholas on the floor, “is my cousin.”

The officer looked at him blankly. Dmitry had been speaking French.

The two called for a translator at the same time. Nicholas was too busy grumbling to pay attention. The young woman from earlier, whose phone had now been returned to her and who was now standing by the bar with a bottle of beer, was brought over.

“Which is… ah, what is the problem, sir?” she asked Dmitry hesitantly.

“Count Yusupov and I would like to accompany my cousin the Tsar to… well, wherever this man plans to take him,” the Grand Duke replied.

The girl translated to the officer. “No problem,” he laughed. “We have a right party over at the station already. A couple more can’t hurt.”

“You can come,” the young woman translated back to Dmitry, who nodded curtly.

“By the way,” the officer added, “you’ll come with us, won’t you? None of us can get by very well in French, and we might need an unbiased account. For filing, you know. Nothing serious.”

“Oh. Well, yeah, sure. I guess so.”

“Sorry to keep you up, but… well. It’s not just any old thing, is it?”

“I guess not.”

The party got up to leave and determined they would not be able to transport Catherine and Nicholas with only the officer… well… dragging. Kristina had also noticed this issue and rushed over to help. Since it would be extremely indecent for the count and the grand duke to forcefully remove the Tsar, they both went to help with Catherine. Kristina and one of her new friends each took one of Nicholas’s arms and the company of six, as well as their two prisoners, made their way towards the vehicle and loaded the two Russian rulers into the back. The officer got in the driver’s seat, the translator in the passenger seat and the two butch women, Kristina and her new acquaintance - her name was Erin, she found out - in tow.

#history is gay #gay #writing #rpf #russian monarchy #Nicholas II #catherine the great #yekaterina ii #grand duke dmitry pavlovich #dmitry pavlovich romanov #count felix yusupov #king kristina of sweden #history #timetravellinggaybar #collaborative novel #sci fi & fantasy

[lenfaz]

Time Upon Once, ch. 8 (8/?)

Summary:  Killian Jones is a bailbonds man, living in Boston and doing his own thing. But on his 29th birthday, a kid knocks on his door and claims to be his son. What happens when Killian is forced to face his past along with a mystery prophecy about his own purpose in life?

Rating: M (eventually)

A huge thank you to @tnlph @businesscasualprincess and @blessed-but-distressed  for beta duties and @shady-swan-jones for the banner!

Tagging a few people that showed interest in this story: @lk0622@nowforruin@sambethe@xemmaloveskillianx  @l-e-x-a-xd @profoundlyfadedprincess @once-uponacaptain@icecubelotr44  @poetic-justice-96  @allietumbles @el-kelpo @jennjenn615 @leiandcharles  (want to be tagged? let me know and I’ll do it)

on Tumblr: I II III IV V VI VII

ao3 ff.net

Chapter VIII

It had been two weeks. Two gruesome weeks of picking up the slack in the Sheriff’s Station of a town he had barely any familiarity with, of drinking himself almost to a stupor every night at The Rabbit Hole, and nursing hangovers in the mornings.

Two weeks of seeing Henry’s sad eyes and lack of a smile, the boy shutting him and everyone out. Of running into Regina and simply averting his eyes, determined not to play whatever game she was after.

Two weeks in which every day he contemplated how easy it would be to just pack his meager belongings and simply leave. Two weeks in which the only things that stopped him were Henry’s grieving stare and Mary Margaret’s heartbroken eyes.

Killian sighed, running a hand through his hair as he entered Gold’s shop. He couldn’t understand why the man had called him in the first place, and the hideous stench coming from whatever he was doing was making it almost impossible for Killian to think straight. What in the bloody hell was the man doing with lanolin and sheep wool in the twenty-first century?

But he soon sobered his wandering thoughts as Gold spoke.

“I just wanted to, uhm, express my condolences, really. The Sheriff was a good man.” He pointed to Killian’s belt where his badge was clipped. “You’re still wearing the Deputy’s badge. Well, he’s been gone two weeks now, and I believe that after two weeks of acting as Sheriff, the job becomes yours. You’ll have to wear the real badge.”

Graham was a good man. Far better than Killian would ever be, and no matter what a local ordinance would say, he’d never be able to properly fill those shoes. He knew he had to eventually. To take the badge that had been sitting over on the desk at the Sheriff’s office in the station and clip it to his belt. But he wasn’t ready. He wasn’t sure he’d ever be ready.

“Aye, I guess. I’m just not in a hurry. If that is all that there was, I better head back to the station.”

“I have his things.” Gold walked over to a small carton box that was sitting on the counter. “The Sheriff rented an apartment that I own. Another reason for my call, really. I wanted to offer you a keepsake.”

As if he needed more keepsakes from people he’d cared about one way or another, only for them to be lost to him. He’d kept the baby blanket he was found by the side of the road. He’d held onto a few possessions from the Joneses, the ones he’d managed to grab before he was taken and screwed out of his inheritance by a crooked social worker and unscrupulous foster parents.  He carried Brennan Jones’s old flask in his jacket pocket, close to his heart. He had hold on to Isobel’s engagement ring for years, dreaming of giving it to Emma when the time was right. Bloody hell, he still drove Emma’s car, a decade later.

“I don’t need anything.” He took a few steps back, as if the physical distance would make the pain lessen.

“As you wish. Well, give them to Mayor Mills. Seems like she was the closest thing he had to family.”

“You’re free to do it, Mr. Gold, but I am not sure it’s the best idea.” Regina and Graham hadn’t ended on good terms and while they had been something, Killian somehow knew Graham wouldn’t want his things to reach the Mayor.

“Look, I feel that all of this stuff is headed for the trash bin – you really should take something. Look – his jacket.”

The thought alone made Killian nauseous. “Brown doesn’t suit me.”

“Well, here. Your boy might like these, don’t you think? You could play together.” He held up a pair of walkie talkies, a hopeful expression of his face. Killian wondered - perhaps for the umpteenth time since he’d arrived into town - what Gold was scheming behind his polite facade. Because he didn’t buy for one second there wasn’t something in this for him in the long run.

“I don’t-”

“No, please. They… They grow up so fast.” He handed Killian the walkie talkies and he took them, eager to leave the place once and for all. “You enjoy these with your boy. Your time together is precious, you know? That’s the thing about children – before you know it, you lose them.” Well, that was cheerful. Killian thought as he tilted his head in a quick goodbye and left the shop, feeling more troubled than when he’d entered. He felt the need to find Henry and check on the lad, to see if his belief and optimism could bring him out of the funk he was in. Although Henry hadn’t been the same lately, Killian figured it was worth a shot.

/-/

Killian found Henry at his castle, the image of the boy sitting there so much like that first day he’d spent in town. He held the two walkie talkies tightly in one of his hands as he climbed the structure and sat next to him.

“I brought you something.” Henry didn’t look at him, his eyes lost in the view in front of him. “Perhaps we can use them for Operation Cobra?” Killian hated the way he sounded, so falsely cheerful, as if life could go on as if nothing had happened, as if tragedy hadn’t just struck Henry - and him - again.

“Thanks.” Henry’s voice sounded small and lost, and Killian’s heart broke in two.

“You’ve been ducking me for weeks, lad. Care to tell me why?”

“I think we should stop Cobra stuff for a while. You don’t play with the curse. Look what happened to Graham.”

“Henry,” Killian started, his hand aching to reach over for his son’s. “They did an autopsy. He died of natural causes.” Gods knew he wanted something to be found, anything that wouldn’t reduce Graham’s death to a triviality that couldn’t have been avoided. He wanted a secret, an almost imperceptibly poison. Heck, he would have taken the idea of an Evil Queen crushing his heart if that meant there was something that could explain it, if there was someone to blame for losing a decent man in such a futile way. But as much as Henry wanted to believe, life wasn’t a fairytale and there wasn’t a big bad villain responsible for the evils in the world.

Sometimes life sucked. Plain and simple.

“Whatever.” Henry shrugged and turned to face him. “You don’t believe – good. That should keep you from messing with it. And getting killed.”

His eyes bore into Killian’s with such fear that it almost made him lean back. Henry was scared of losing him to this fantasy. Or maybe he was just scared of losing him.

“You’re worried about me, lad?” he asked softly, trying to convey hope and understanding in his voice, even if he was a little short on hope these days - or in his life in general.

“She killed Graham because he was good – and you’re good.”

“Henry.” Killian wasn’t sure what was more troubling: Henry’s fear for him, or the fact he considered his mother capable of murder.  

“Good loses – good always loses.” He sounded discouraged, disheartened, his little shoulders sagging as he averted his gaze to the horizon. “Because good has to play fair – evil doesn’t. She’s evil. This is probably best.” He thrust the walkie talkie back into Killian’s hand. “I don’t want to upset her anymore.” He grabbed his backpack from his side, stood up and left. Killian sat there for a while, letting the soft breeze mess with his hair, trying to avoid the tears that threatened to escape his eyes. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. It was never meant to be like this.

He gave Henry away so the lad could have a better chance than he did, so he could be raised and loved in a family. And today, only a few years older than Killian had been when it happened to him, his son was mourning the loss of the closest thing he had to a father.

/-/

Killian drove back to the station, placing a steaming cup of coffee from Granny’s next to the station keys on his desk. He picked the sheriff’s badge, the one that had been staring back at him for the past two weeks. Killian supposed that it made sense that he took on the job now, although there was this nagging feeling in the back of his mind that he’d never be able to fill those shoes.

His hand curled around the badge and he reached to open the clasp with his fingers.

“That’s not for you.” He turned around to find Regina standing by the entrance, smirking knowingly at him.

“It’s been two weeks – promotion’s automatic.” He cleared his throat, working very hard to sound secure and yet knowing he was coming short of that.

“Unless the Mayor appoints someone else within the time period, which I’m doing today.” There was the distinct sound of her heels clicking against the floor as she walked towards him, her hands buried on the pockets of her gray coat.

Killian clenched his jaw and tilted his head to the side. “Who is it?”

“After due reflection – Sidney Glass.”

“From the newspaper? What experience does he have?” He knew the words were a mistake the moment they left his mouth, Regina’s mouth curving into a tight smile.

“He’s covered the Sheriff’s Office for as long as anyone can remember.” She gave Killian a once over. “Besides, what makes you think you are qualified?”

“I’ve worked in a branch associated with law enforcement for the past decade.” He shifted his stance, standing a straighter. “I know what I’m doing.”

“Graham was a good man, Mr. Jones. He made this town safe, and forgive me for saying it, but you have not earned the right to wear his badge.”

He knew that. Killian knew that he had no right to wear Graham’s badge or to even think of claiming the place the other man had held in the town. But Sidney Glass was not the answer. Killian was aware of what it meant for the station in the long run.

“Aye. I am aware that you’re grieving, Madam Mayor and I am sorry for your loss.” He watched as her mask fell and for a second she seemed small and lost, but she quickly recovered. “But Graham picked me to be Deputy, he wanted me to take over if something happened,” Killian said, trying very hard not to engage in a fight with Regina, but not willing to give up just yet.

“And he was wrong.” Regina took the badge from his hand. “You’re fired, Mr. Jones.”

/-/

Killian knew he wasn’t making the best impression as Mary Margaret walked into the loft to find punk music blasting from the stereo, a half empty glass of rum on the sideboard and him perched on a stool, his hands on the toaster as he was finishing with it.

“I fixed the toaster,” he provided by way of greeting and he could feel more than see Mary Margaret’s quirked eyebrow.

“I didn’t even know it was broken,” she supplied politely, as she crossed the room and turned off the music.

“It was making a sound.” Killian tilted his head apologetically.

Mary Margaret dropped her bags on the counter and crossed her arms over her chest. “Do you want to tell me what’s going on?”

“I needed to get my hands on something,” He sighed as he put the toaster back in place. “Regina fired me. She’s putting someone she can control as Sheriff.” Killian ran a hand through his hair. “That’s my job.”

Mary Margaret’s mouth twisted in a surprised expression and she moved to take the groceries out of the bag. “I’ve never heard you so passionate about it before, Killian.”

“I know,” he admitted, letting her have a little peak of the things he kept behind his mask. “I know I wasn’t that interested to begin with, but I want it back.”

Mary Margaret worried her lip with her teeth. “There must be a reason.”

Gods, the way she could read him was scary. It should be scary, but Killian felt one more time that need to simply tell her the truth, to let her see him for who he was and make her own choices. It was funny how long it had taken for real friendship to find a way in his life. “There’s always a reason.”

A knock on the door interrupted their conversation, and Killian stopped fidgeting with the toaster and went to answer. He frowned at the sight of Mr. Gold standing in front of him.

“Good evening, Mr. Jones. Sorry for the intrusion.” Gold balanced back and forth on his feet, leaning heavily on his cane. “There’s something I’d like to discuss with you.” Killian noticed the massive binder Gold had under his arm and he turned to give Mary Margaret a confused look.

“I’ll let you two talk,” she said after a beat, climbing the stairs towards the upper floor and Killian’s room. He wasn’t sure he was relieved she wouldn’t be subjected to whatever Gold wanted, or troubled that he had to face the man by himself after the day he’d had.

“Come in.” Killian moved to the side and motioned Gold to come into the apartment, closing the door after the man.

“I heard what happened. Such an injustice,” Gold offered, still holding the binder under his arm as he moved near the table.

“What’s done is done, is what me mum used to say.” Killian gave him the fakest smile he could plaster on his face.

“A true fighter, I see.” He didn’t miss the hint of contempt in Gold’s voice. It was so easy for men like him to belittle others.

“She’s the Mayor, Gold, and I’m... well, I’m no one.” Killian shrugged. He’d decided long time ago that he didn’t give a damn what others thought of him - Liam had taught him that at an early age - especially not men that liked to play puppeteer with the lives of innocent bystanders in order to get their own way.

“Mr. Jones, two people with a common goal can accomplish many things. Two people with a common enemy can accomplish even more. How would you like a benefactor?”

Bullseye. He knew Gold had a hidden agenda. He had to, men like him never did anything out of the goodness of their hearts. Men like him didn't have goodness in their hearts. But Killian was willing to see how this was going to play out, especially if he could stay one step ahead of the game.

“Benefactor?”

“You mind?” Gold gestured at the table and Killian briefly nodded, waiting for the man to place the binder over the table and take a sit before he sat as well. Gold opened the binder, shuffling through the pages. “You know, it really is quite shocking how few people study the town charter.”

“The town charter?” So far, Killian wasn’t impressed.

“Well, it’s quite comprehensive. And the Mayor’s authority? Well, maybe she’s not quite as powerful as she seems.”

Oh, see, that was interesting. /-/

He could lie and say he wasn’t one for dramatic entrances, but Killian had always enjoyed a little flair for dramatics - according to Emma, anyway. It had been a nice way to counterbalance the tedious parts of his job, the ability to saunter over to a skip and deliver the perfect punchline just as he slapped the cuffs on.

“Please welcome your new Sheriff!” Regina exclaimed with a proud smile on her face, her fingers just about to pin the Sheriff’s badge into Sidney’s chest. That was the moment when Killian went in.

“Now, hang on a second.” He had a smirk plastered on his face as he strolled into the Mayor’s office.

“Oh, Mr. Jones, this is not appropriate,” Regina said in a condescending tone, not giving up an inch on the smile on her face.

“The only thing not appropriate is this ceremony, Madam Mayor.” He tilted his head to the side, his footsteps secure as he stood in front of her. “You do not have the power to appoint him.”

There was a flicker of something dark passing behind her eyes before she collected herself. Regina Mills didn’t like to be challenged.  “The town charter clearly states the Mayor shall appoint-”

“A candidate.” And she clearly didn’t like to be interrupted, but Killian Jones had always had problems with authority figures. He wasn’t going to start behaving now, not when there was so much at stake. “You have the authority to appoint a candidate. It calls for an election.”

“The term ‘candidate’ is applied loosely.” Regina waved her hand, trying to divert the conversation to her own ends. It might work with the town residents that didn’t seem too keen to oppose her vision, but he liked to think he’d battled people tougher than Regina Mills in his life.

“No, it’s not. It requires a vote,” he countered, as he saw that same darkness creeping back into her expression. “I’m running, Madam Mayor.”

“Fine,” she said dismissively, as if this was nothing but a nuisance and a waste of time. “So is Sidney.”

“I am?” The man spoke from the first time and if looks could inflict pain, he’d have been on the floor from the one he got from Regina. “I mean, I am,” he professed with a little more determination, and it only cemented Killian’s belief that he was only going to be Regina’s puppet if he was elected Sheriff.

“With my full support. I guess we’ll all learn a little something about the will of the people.” Regina smirked, as if she’d already won.

It was a long shot, but he had to try. If nothing else, for the peace of mind that he’d tried everything humanly possible to prevent it.

“I guess we will.”

/-/

Killian found Henry sitting at a booth in Granny’s and quickly made his way to him. He sat next to Henry, but the boy didn’t pay him much attention.

“How was school?”

“Okay,” Henry shrugged, his eyes focused on the newspaper he was holding in his hands. That caught Killian’s attention as he noticed the way the boy's shoulders were slumped in defeat.

“Anything interesting in the local news?” He asked nonchalantly, trying to get Henry to look at him.

“Sidney wrote it,” Henry said as he flipped the paper over and presented Killian with the upper part of the front page. The blood drained from his face and he felt dizzy at the sight of his most recent mugshot with the title “Jailbird. Killian Jones served time for theft, missed own son’s birth.”

“Is it a lie?” Henry asked looking eagerly at him.

Killian had vowed that he wouldn’t lie to his son. He deserved the truth and Killian just wished the lad had been a few years older when he learnt about it. He shook his head and sighed, giving his son a self-deprecating smile.

“You were in jail when I was born?”

“Aye,” he admitted in defeat. “Those records were supposed to be sealed.” Killian had worked hard to have them sealed, even if he’d served time at a regular prison and not juvie due to his recent 18th birthday, he’d been able to plead with the judge about the status of his case and the stigma that a sentence like his could have on his future. He wasn’t sure if it was his natural charm, or if he had simply inspired pity, but the judge had agreed to seal the records and Killian had moved on, working hard to build a life of his own.

“Did my birth mom know?”

“She must have, because that’s where I found out she was pregnant with you.” Killian said, drifting away to one of the most painful memories in his life.

He had been locked up for a little over five months when the brown manila envelope arrived, a stack of papers inside... and her letter. It was a short letter, attached to the adoption papers, in which Emma pleaded with him to give their unborn child the best chance they could. It was the first time she’d made contact since he’d landed in jail and he wondered - not for the first time - what lies Neal and August might have fed her that she hadn’t shown up to see him. While a part of him wanted to be mad at her, blame her for not believing in him instead of what she might have been told, Killian knew Emma better than she knew herself. He knew how skittish and hesitant to trust others she’d been her entire life, a by-product of the abuse and neglect she’d suffered at the hands of a system that was supposed to take care of her. He knew he had torn down her walls and that she’d fallen for him as much as he had fallen for her. But he also knew that in this situation, and without him being able to talk to her - his attempts at contact were futile as she didn’t have a cellphone or an address to be reached at - she would revert to what she knew best: Look out for herself and avoid getting hurt.

And he couldn’t resent her for it. He wouldn’t. As much as he’d like to plead with her to hold on for a few more months and wait for him, to bet on them, on a chance to be a family, Killian knew it was too much to ask for a just-turned-eighteen year old high school dropout that lived on the streets.

A tear ran down his cheek as he signed the consent for the adoption, wishing things could be different. But he made a promise to himself in that moment. He was going to find Emma when he got out, and he was going to explain everything to her, begging for a chance to start over.

The only problem was, he’d never been able to find her.

“Is that why you consented to the adoption?” Henry’s question brought him back to the present and he turned to find his son looking at him with almost a desperate plea in his eyes.

He nodded, not trusting his voice not to betray him. “Are you scarred for life?” He finally asked, wanting with everything in him to know that he hadn’t ruined his son’s life even more than before.

“Not by this.” Killian smiled at Henry’s sarcastic barb that reminded him so much of Emma.

“Let’s burn this thing to ashes and find somewhere better for our information. Like the internet, for example.”

Henry didn’t quite smile at his attempt to lighten up the mood. “This is what I’ve been trying to tell you – good can’t beat evil, because good doesn’t do this kind of thing. My mom plays dirty – that’s why you can’t beat her. Ever.”

The fact that he was being put in the ‘good’ column tugged at his heart, and he desperately wanted to be worthy of that. “Gold said he’s going to help.”

“Mr. Gold? He’s even worse than she is. You already owe him one favor. You don’t want to owe him anymore. Don’t do this.” Henry seemed genuinely scared and Killian wanted nothing more than to pull him into his arms and take him away for good. But he couldn’t, so he had to settle for putting the boy’s fears at ease.

“Henry, evil can only beat good if good cannot see the dirty coming. Lucky for you, I’ve known a few evildoers in my time to know how to play it. Trust me, lad.” He smirked, his hand resting on Henry’s shoulder. “It’s not about playing dirty. It’s about staying two steps ahead of the game.”

/-/

Killian barged into Regina’s office brandishing the newspaper. “Those records were sealed by court order.” He placed the paper over her desk and gave her a furious look. “I don’t know how you got it, but that’s abuse of power, and it’s illegal.”

“I’m sorry. You didn’t want people to know you were playing cards with other jail mates whilst the poor woman you impregnated was giving birth?”

He clenched his jaw, tilting his head and willing himself not to fall for the barb she was throwing at him. “I don’t bloody care what people know, but this hurts Henry.”

“He would’ve learned eventually.” Regina glanced over at him as she closed her bag. “We all lose our heroes at some point.”

She started walking away, but Killian wasn’t ready to let this go. “He doesn’t need to lose anything more. He’s depressed, Madam Mayor. He doesn’t have any… Any hope. Don’t you see that?” he pleaded, trying to appeal to Regina’s love for her son. He could understand why she wanted to drag him down into the mud, but for the life of him, he couldn’t understand why she was so careless with her son’s feelings.

“He’s fine.” She waved her hand dismissively at him, as if he were a subject that was annoying her. She shut off the lights of her foyer and waited for him to exit before closing the door.

“He’s not fine.” He turned around to face her, unwilling to let her go until she could see what she was doing. “He’s watching his adoptive mother wage an illegal smear campaign against his birth father.  Don’t you find that upsetting?” He tilted his head, his voice cracking slightly at his words. “He just lost Graham, Regina. Correct me if I'm wrong, but that man was the closest thing he ever had to a father. Does he need to go through this?”

“I’m just letting him see the truth,” Regina countered, with a smug smile. “And as for the legality – I did nothing wrong.” She blatantly ignored Killian’s cocked eyebrow. “But you and Sidney will have a chance to get into all that at the debate.”

“A debate?” He almost choked on the words. As if he needed a bloody debate to have more of his past being dredged up before the citizens of Storybrooke.

“Yes, Mr. Jones, there’s a debate. You and Sidney can talk all about your jail experiences, as well as your new benefactor.” She cocked an eyebrow at him, her red lips curved into a knowingly smile as she walked to open the door. “He’s a snake, Jones. I’d be careful if I were yo-”

The rest of her words died as she opened the door and the explosion set off, deafening everything else. The force of the blast threw both Regina and Killian back, and when he lifted his head, he could see the flames licking the room and coming their way. When he turned around to urge Regina to get out, he could see her ankle trapped underneath the debris.

“I can’t move! Help me!” she shrieked.

Killian didn’t hesitate, reaching first to free her ankle from the debris and jumping through the flames to get ahold of the nearest fire extinguisher. Once he’d weakened the fire a little bit, he lifted Regina in his arms, urging her to hold tight as he hurried them outside the building.

The fire truck had arrived, and a few people had gathered as Killian tried to gently place Regina on the ground, but a coughing fit had him drop her with a little more force than intended.

“Oh, ow, ow! My ankle! Set me down gently!” Even when injured and when she should show at least a bit of gratitude at being rescued, Regina managed to find a way to belittle him.

“I’m sorry if my manners whilst saving your life are not meeting your standards, Your Majesty.” Her eyes widened comically for a second and Killian realized the unintentional barb he’d made with his comment.

But soon Regina was back at being her regal self and scoffed at him. “The firemen are here. It’s not like we were really in danger.”

“By all means, then next time I’ll let them fight for the honor of rescuing you.” He turned away, running a hand through his hair, frustrated by this whole ordeal. “Actually, next time I’ll do the same thing, because she might not have been with me for decades, but me mum taught me to be a decent human being.” He tilted his head to Regina’s dumbfounded expression and chose to walk away, as he knew nothing good would come from talking to the woman in this state. Real danger or not, it had been a nerve-wracking ordeal for the both of them.

Killian spotted Henry talking to one of the firemen. The lad broke into a smile when he saw him. “Is it true that you rescued my mom?”

He simply waved his hand dismissively, whilst Regina tried her best to downplay the incident, anything to prevent a shift in popular opinion in Killian’s favor. But he wasn’t that worried about how Sidney was going to skew the story, not when the rest of the town was talking about him being a hero and organizing campaign posters. Not when Henry was beaming at him as he used to do - in the way Emma used to beam at him.

“This is how good wins, lad,” he said as he ruffled his son’s hair, a soft smile on his lips.

The same smile that faded the moment Killian spotted something that looked eerily familiar in between the debris. Something he’d seen not too long ago, in Gold’s shop.

/-/

Gold was still wiping something from his hands with a rag when Killian entered the shop, and that only fueled his conviction that he’d been involved in whatever happened at the Town Hall. Killian grabbed the fabric he’d stealthily retrieved from the fire site and toyed with it in his hands.

Gold took a look at him and gave him an eerie smile. “Lots of visitors today.”

“I know you set the fire, Gold.” Killian took a few steps and set the incriminating piece of fabric on the counter.

The pawn shop owner didn’t even flinch at the accusation. “I’ve been here all day, Mr. Jones. How could I have possibly been involved in what happened at Town Hall?”

“This fabric was found on the site. Surprisingly, it smells rather like the sheep oil you were using a few mornings ago.” He made tsk sound with his mouth and tilted his head to the side. “And it’s flammable.”

Gold took a few steps further into the shop, standing at the other side of the counter. “Are you sure? There’s some construction work on at City Hall at the moment. There’s lots of flammable solvents used in construction.”

Killian wasn’t in the mood to play hide and seek with the local pawn shop owner slash powerful man in town. He decided to cut to the chase. “Why did you do it?”

“If I did it,” the other man said and Killian rolled his eyes at his antics. “If I did it, that would be because you cannot win without something big. Something like, uh… Oh, I don’t know. Being the hero in a fire?” He waved his hand about with a dramatic flourish.

Killian shook his head slightly. He really despised men like Gold. “And, let me guess. You have eyes and ears in this town that would let you know if I was in the right place at the right time?”

“Or maybe I’m just intuitive - were I involved.”

“You counted on me not being able to leave Regina behind.”

“Not the type.”

“I’m not doing this, Gold.” Killian stated resolutely, not willing to be a pawn in someone else’s power play.

“This is the price of election, Mr. Jones,” Gold shrugged with the calm of a man used to having his way.

“This is not a price I’m willing to pay. Find someone else to be your posterboy for your war against the Mayor.” Killian turned and made his way towards the door, Gold’s voice reaching him just as his hand was on the knob.

“Go ahead – expose me. But if you do, just think about what you’ll be exposing and what you’ll be walking away from. And who you might be disappointing.”

Killian smirked, looked at Gold over his shoulder. “Nice try, Mr. Gold. But trust me, I wouldn’t be disappointing the son that begged me not to get involved with you in the first place.”

/-/

Killian paced restlessly backstage, waiting for the debate to start. If it could be called a debate. It was more an opportunity for each candidate to give a short presentation, and then the people would cast their votes. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He was nervous. He couldn’t recall the last time he was nervous over something as silly as this.

He couldn’t recall the last time he’d given a crap about what people thought of him.

Mary Margaret approached him and thrusted a piece of paper and a bottle of water on his hands, giving him a comforting smile.

He smiled in return, exhaling deeply as he voiced his thoughts to her. “I’m not going to win.”

She tilted her head in confusion and reached up to straighten his black tie and the collar of his white button down. Her hands smoothed the lapels of his black leather jacket. “What are you talking about? Everyone’s talking about what you did in the fire.” The fire, aye. The one he’d decided not to use to his advantage.

“Henry is right, I can’t beat Regina at this. Not the way she fights. My reputation - such as it is - it’s going to get bloody destroyed as soon as I get behind that podium.”

“Killian.” She gave him that look Killian was fast becoming very used to. The one in which she was reading all the things he kept hidden from the world and silently chastising him for lying to her. “This has never been about Regina.”

He averted his gaze for a brief second as he pondered her words. “Of course it isn’t. It’s about Henry,” he admitted.

“You want to win this to show him that good can actually win fighting fair and that is a wonderful thing, Killian. But what about you?” She smiled encouragingly at him. “Why do you want to win the election for yourself?”

Because I’d have nothing to offer him if I didn’t.

“If I’m not the savior, or his mother’s hero, if I’m not even his father figure - Graham was - then what am I to him? What part do I have in his life? I’m nothing but the man who sired him and wasn’t even around when he was born. I was in jail, Mary Margaret. Emma had to go through it all without me.” Killian’s voice broke at the last part, allowing himself to voice his deepest fears. “If all I do is disappoint him in every role he casts me in his life, then what is left?”

“You, Killian.” Mary Margaret was giving him a resolute stare. “The man that drove his son from Boston to Storybrooke and stayed around after to make sure he was going to be okay. The man that is still here, trying, regardless of everything Regina is throwing at him. It’s not always about winning, Killian. It’s about trying.”

She was right, as usual. Killian took a deep breath. “There it is.”

“There it is.”

He dropped a soft kiss on her forehead. “Thank you, darling.”

“You’re welcome.” She beamed at him, a soft pat on his shoulder as she sent him on his merry way, off towards the stage.

/-/

Killian sat there, trying hard to control the way his knee was bouncing up and down as Sidney delivered his speech about reflecting the best qualities for Storybrooke: honesty, neighborliness, and strength. From the corner of his eye, he spotted Regina nodding and almost mouthing the words, one by one. He resisted the need to roll his eyes and scoff at the blatant ventriloquist act in front of him.

He was called upon the podium. Killian’s eyes connected briefly with Henry, who smiled in encouragement, before facing the sea of unfamiliar faces.

“I’m Killian Jones. You might recognize me from my mugshot on the front page of the paper yesterday,” he started, hoping a little self-deprecating humor was going to lighten the mood. But this was a tough crowd and he knew it. His eyes scanned the audience and he spotted Gold smirking at him.

Killian was tired of men like Gold. He was tired of men like him winning, pulling the strings of his life. But not anymore. If he was going to do something today, he was going to be the kind of man he wanted to be. The kind of man Henry could be proud of. He cleared his throat as he tried to find the words for his speech. Suddenly, he remember his brother Liam’s words the first time he had to give a speech at elementary school.

You can do it little brother, I have faith in you.

“Yes, I have had a troubled past, but as my brother used to say ‘Start in the way you want to finish, Killian’. I’m just starting my life here… and if I can dare hope that you’d embrace me as your Sheriff, I cannot start with a lie. You think I’m a hero because I rescued the Mayor from a fire. But the fire was a setup.” He heard the gasps in the audience and he forced himself to go on. It was all or nothing. “Mr. Gold agreed to support me in this race, but I didn’t know that that meant he was going to set a fire. I don’t have definitive evidence, but I’m sure this was the case. I cannot, in good conscience, let you think otherwise even if it might help me win this race. That is not the Sheriff I want to be.” His eyes looked for Henry. “That is not the man I want to be.”

Gold stood up the moment he finished the speech and walked away, his cane hitting the floor the only sound on the room. Killian sighed before he nodded briefly and left the stage.

He needed a drink. Or five.

/-/

Killian downed the first glass on two gulps under the amused scrutiny of Ruby.

“Another?”

“Hell, yes. And keep them coming, lass.”

Ruby was pouring him the second one when the doorbell jingled and Henry entered the place. He took a seat next to Killian and silently pulled a walkie talkie out of his backpack and handed it to him.

“What’s this for?” Killian hand held onto the device.

“You stood up to Gold. That was cool.”

“It was the right thing to do, lad. He did something illegal. And, I seem to recall you told me not to work with him.” Killian bopped Henry’s nose and he smiled brightly at him. Even if he lost today, his son’s smile was worth everything he’d done.

“That’s what heroes do – expose stuff like that.” Ruby came back with a glass of milk and Henry waited until she left to continue speaking in a whisper. “I shouldn’t have given up on Operation Cobra.” There was a newfound hope in him and whilst Killian wasn’t exactly keen on getting back into fairytale conspiracies, he was bloody happy to see a little bit of the old Henry back.

There was another jingle of the doorbell and Regina walked in with Sidney behind her. “I thought I might find you here. With a drink. And my son.”

Killian decided to ignore the barb in Regina’s voice and addressed Sidney directly. “Here to card me, officer?”

“Well, not at all. In fact, I think I’ll join you.” Sidney said in an amicable tone and Killian raised an eyebrow in confusion.

“Here? I don’t know. I thought they were setting up a back room for the victory party.”

Sidney shrugged with a small, uncomfortable, smile on his lips. “Oh, well, you’ll have to tell me what that’s like.”

What?

Killian’s eyes darted to Regina. The Mayor was holding the Sheriff insignia in her hands. She averted her gaze and her mouth tilted in a small pout. “Congratulations …Sheriff Jones.” Regina placed the badge on the counter. “It was a very close vote, but people really seem to like the idea of a Sheriff brave enough to stand up to Mr. Gold.”

“Are you joking?” It was all Killian could ask as more people started to pour into Granny’s.

“She doesn’t joke.” Sidney clarified and Killian nodded.

“Of course she doesn’t.” He should have known that, but Kilian was still amazed and his eyes looked for Henry. He was giving him a beaming smile, only to be matched by Mary Margaret’s looking at them from a safe distance.

“You didn’t pick a great friend in Gold, Mr. Jones, but he does make a superlative enemy.” Regina interrupted his thoughts, her smile carrying a hint of danger in it. “Enjoy that.”

/-/

Things felt different when he entered the station the next morning, carrying his meager possessions back. It wasn’t more than a notepad and a mug, but Mary Margaret had insisted he needed his own mug in the station as she gifted it to him that same morning. He sighed, his eyes scanning the place before he froze on the spot at the sight of Graham’s jacket, still hanging on the coat rack.

“The Sheriff’s jacket – I thought you might want it after all.” Gold walked in and Killian wondered for a brief moment if he could simply arrest the man for breaking and entering.

“What do you want, Gold?” Killian spat, clenching his jaw and reaching for his weapon.

“It was a great act, don’t you think? Political theatre in an actual theatre.” Gold must have noticed his disbelieving stare because he gave Killian a smug smirk. “I knew no one was going to vote for you unless we gave you some kind of extraordinary quality, and I’m afraid saving old Regina’s arse from the fire just wasn’t going to do that. We had to give you a higher form of bravery. They had to see you defy me – and they did.”

Killian wasn’t buying it. He couldn’t sense any outright lies from the other man, but he knew his kind. He simply shrugged nonchalantly. “You’re claiming you planned it?”

“Everyone’s afraid of Regina, but they’re more afraid of me. By standing up to me, you won them over. It was the only way.”

“Men like you always feel the need to pull the strings. Or feel that you pull the strings of other people’s lives, regardless of the outcome.” Killian pointed out, not willing to fall into the man’s recount of the tale.

Gold simply shrugged and headed to the exit. “Be that as it may, Mr. Jones, you still owe me a favor. I know that can be a bad feeling – owing someone. And now that you’re Sheriff -”

“I’d be careful in ending that sentence, Mr. Gold, unless you want me to press charges for attempting to coerce or otherwise corrupt a law enforcer.” Killian looked defiantly at the other man. Whatever pull Gold had in this town, he wasn’t going to let himself be dragged under by it. He hadn’t freed the Sheriff’s Station from Regina’s influence only to have it fall under Gold’s.  “Also, it’s Sheriff Jones. Goodbye, Gold.”

Gold smiled at him, nodding his head. “Goodbye, Sheriff.”

He knew he’d made a strong enemy in Gold, but as his fingers brushed the Sheriff’s badge that was now clipped to his belt, he couldn’t care less.

Good had won. At least for the day.

#cs ff #lenfaz fics #time upon once #captain swan #canon divergence

[buymepizzaordie]

Origins- Chapter 5

Summary: By day, Emily was just like any other girl in Paris; going to lycée, seeing her friends, and thinking about her future. But at night, she transformed into Paon, a superhero with peacock-like abilities and a passion for justice. One day when she saves a fellow classmate from a fire, she realizes that theres a lot she doesn’t know about her miraculous. Her kwami warns her that it’s better if she doesn’t know, but Emily is good and getting what she wants, and she’ll do anything she can to learn more about where her powers come from, even if it means befriending the quiet Gabriel Agreste and keeping secrets from the people she loves.

Notes: Has it really been 8 months since I updated? Wow…

<< AO3 >> 

Emily had to say that stealing the walkie-talkie had been a great idea.

The idea had never even occurred to her before. If it hadn’t been for Adrienne, she probably would never have thought about it. On Tuesday, Emily’s second day of school, Adrienne had made the trip to Paris to visit her. Adrienne was a very talkative person, and didn’t let Emily hold out on any details of her life so far. She had been living in Paris for four months already, and Adrienne wanted to know everything.

One topic of conversation was about Paon. According to Adrienne, people who lived in France but not in Paris had heard of her, but weren’t convinced she was real. Non-Parisians may have seen her on the news and in the papers, but apparently that wasn’t enough to convince most of them.  

“A lot of people think she’s a publicity stunt or something.” Explained Adrienne. “They think Parisians made her up to get more tourists to come, as if there aren’t already enough tourists! Do you know how many Americans I had to get past to get to your house?”

Emily had to admit that if she wasn’t Paon, and she was still living outside of Paris like Adrienne, she would have some difficulty believing that there was a girl running around Paris dressed like a peacock and fighting crime.

Adrienne, unlike most non-Parisians, was a huge fan of Paon. She wanted Emily to tell her everything she knew about the superhero. She would bombard her with questions and then gush about how cool Paon seemed and how ironic it was that Emily moved to Paris just weeks before Paon first made an appearance. Emily was overwhelmed trying to answer all her friends’ questions while keeping her identity a secret.

“How does Paon know when something’s happening?” she asked Emily. “From what I heard, she appears so quickly to the scene of a crime that it’s almost like she has a sense for it or something. Can she just tell? Do the police contact her whenever someone calls 112? And if they do call her, how would they if they don’t know her identity? Does she just have a walkie-talkie?”

One question spiraled into a dozen more, but Emily was too caught up in her thoughts to respond. The reason she always showed up so quickly was because she spent so much free time outside. Before school started, if she wasn’t taking care of her sister or seeing Adrienne, she was walking through the crowded streets of Paris. Being in a public area for so much of her time made it easier to find out if something was happening.

But there was no way she was going to tell all that to Adrienne, so she just let her talkative blonde friend tire herself out with all her wild theories.

But hearing her mention the idea of walkie-talkies surprised her. Mostly, it surprised her that she spent six months as Paon, and she hadn’t thought of that sooner.

Even after Adrienne left Paris that night, Emily couldn’t stop thinking about her words. She knew that it was a great idea, and it would be much more convenient for her now that school started and she can’t spend every possible second out in the streets.  

The only problem was that she doubted the police would just hand her one if she asked for it. They respected her because she was saving lives and because her miraculous had a strong effect on them. But that’s where their support for her ended. They may have worked with her whenever she showed, but they were always complaining that she should just ‘let them do their job.’

Normally, she wouldn’t let something like permission stop her from getting what she wanted, especially if it was for a good cause. But Laurrel would have a fit if she tried to steal a police officers walkie-talkie. Laurrel was all about following the rules and thinking things through, and in the six months they’ve been together, she had stopped Emily from making rash and reckless decisions a number of times.

Emily knew that if she wanted a walkie-talkie, she would have to ask for Laurrel’s forgiveness, not her permission.

Nothing she wasn’t used to.

The next day, during her schools lunch break, she decided to go to the station. Laurrel had been in her bag when Adrienne first mentioned the idea, but Emily made sure not to mention it after she left, so Laurrel had no idea what she was planning. She had already wanted to go to the station before to talk to the police officers about the fire from a few days ago. So Laurrel wasn’t suspicious whatsoever when she asked her to transform.

She transformed in an alley nearby her school, then made her way to the station via rooftops. When she got there, she saw the bald officer from the fire at the library.

She tried to get as much information from him as she could. He told her that the fire was still under investigation. Since Gabriel Agreste was the last and only other person in the library during the fire, he was the only witness they had. But he claimed to have no idea how the fire started.

Paon kept questioning the officer, and he reluctantly admitted to her that the one thing they knew for sure was that the fire was definitely intentional.

The fire started on purpose.

Emily had only one class with Gabriel Agreste. She had only been in school for three days, so she hardly knew anything about the boy. He seemed quiet, kind of shy, but very polite. In fact, he might have been the politest teenage boy she had ever met- he always said please and thank you, he never talked during class, and he would smile respectfully at her whenever he caught her trying to look into his bag. She wasn’t certain- because she had yet to stay at school for the entire lunch break- but she didn’t think he had many friends. The few times they talked to each other were brief, but seemed kind.

Even so, she knew he wasn’t the one to start the fire.

It just didn’t seem logical to her. She had no facts to back up her claim, just a gut feeling. But for her, a gut feeling was usually more than enough.

After he promised to update her once they had more information, she got ready to leave. Paon had every intention to leave the station with one of the handheld radios, but she knew Laurrel would kill her if she didn’t at least put an effort and try to ask. But just as she predicated, he said no.

So she took one anyways.

Paon retransformed and became Emily once more. She rushed home to drop it off before she had to get back to school.

After school, Laurrel gave her the inevitable lecture. Today’s topic was: stealing. Emily, like usual, tuned her out until she finished. Sometimes she couldn’t tell the small kwami apart from her own mother.

The walkie-talkie kept Emily very busy the next two days. When she was at school, she kept it off and hidden in her closet, just in case her parents were ever home without her knowledge.

By the time it got to Saturday, Emily was exhausted. Her first week of school had finally come to an end, and her homework was already starting to pile up. Normally, she was a pretty good student. But now that she had a miraculous, she started to prioritize her superhero duties over her homework. And because of her walkie-talkie, she heard about every robbery, car accident, or cat stuck in a tree as soon as the police heard about it. She knew school would only get harder from that point, and she intended to spend her Saturday catching up on sleep.

She was in bed, awake but not wanting to get up from her comfortable position when she heard a muffled voice coming from the closet. She groaned and put her pillow over her head. She knew the sound was coming from the walkie-talkie. But at that moment, all she cared about was getting a few more minutes of sleep.

Emily opened her eyes to see if Laurrel was awake. Laurrel was resting besides her, but it was obvious the noises weren’t going to wake her up any time soon. She knew that there was no way she was going to go back to sleep with the constant background noise.

She reluctantly got out of bed and walked to her closet, mentally berating herself for not turning it off last night before going to sleep. Once she opened her closet door, the noises became much clearer.

Emily was about to turn the walkie-talkie off, until she heard someone say ‘Gabriel Agreste.’

Now she was awake. She quickly turned the volume up. “-is coming in later today for questioning. Officer Pierre has requested to be the one to talk with him.” Said a voice over the walkie-talkie.

“Copy that. Has anyone let Paon know?” asked another voice.

“No, Pierre has asked that we not tell anyone. He doesn’t want her to be involved in the investigation.”

“What?!” Emily exclaimed. Laurrel flew off the bed.

“What is it? What’s going on?” Laurrel asked, looking around the room for signs of danger.

“That police officer lied to me! He promised he’d keep me updated but then he told all the other officers not to tell me anything! Who does he think he is?” Emily was angrily pacing her room. Once Laurrel realized that there was no immediate danger, she flew over to Emily to try and calm her down.

“Emily, calm down. I’m sure there’s some sort of explanation for this.” She said to the girl.

“Oh, there’d better be! In fact, lets go to the station right now and ask him why he was planning on keeping this from me! Transformer moi! ” Before Laurrel could get another word in, Emily had turned into Paon and was opening her window, ready to go to the police station and give Officer Pierre a piece of her mind.

 Paon landed on the roof of the police station, fuming. She gripped both of her fans in her hands, pacing on the roof. At that moment, she wanted more than anything to go into the station and tell Officer Pierre exactly what she thought of him. But the rational part of her had realized on the way here that no one would take her seriously if she acted like a teenager.

She paced back and forth on the roof, waiting for her anger to subside. She liked to think that she had gotten better at controlling her emotions and impulses since getting her miraculous, although not by much. It wasn’t long though before her frustration turned into a mild annoyance. She already knew from previous experience that the police didn’t like her getting involved, and they didn’t want to admit that her presence in Paris was helping to lower the crime rates. So really, she shouldn’t have been so surprised that they didn’t inform her that Gabriel would be coming in for questioning.

Even though I specifically asked them to tell me. She thought. Suddenly, she didn’t feel so bad about taking the walkie-talkie.

Paon walked to the edge of the roof. She could see a bus stop across the street, and a couple of people stepped of the bus. One of them was a teenage boy with whitish-blonde hair and a purple backpack.

Gabriel Agreste had arrived.

Paon watched him as he crossed the street. She waited for him to near the police station. Without even thinking about it, Paon jumped of the roof and landed next to him. He jumped away from her in surprise, and she let out a snort before she could stop herself.

“Long time no see, Gabriel.” She said with a smirk.

“Paon! What are you doing here?” he responded.

“I’m listening in to your questioning, if you don’t mind.” She was surprised to see the relieved look that crossed his face. Paon opened the door for him before he could even get a word out and put her hand out in an ‘after you’ gesture. Gabriel blushed and stuttered out a “thanks.” She tried not to think about how cute he looked when he was flustered.

Paon walked in after Gabriel. The moment they entered the building, Paon realized she wasn’t angry anymore. Instead, she was excited to see the look on officer Pierre’s face when he saw that despite his efforts to keep her out of the loop, she was here anyways.

#buymepizzaordiefic #ml #mlfic #camphalfblood44fic #miraculous ladybug #buymepizzaordie

[50funny]

Mage: Chapter 68-Enemy’s Of Lemia

Written By 50Funny

 Part 1- Aftermath Of A Battle Lost

Liz’s eye's started to groggily open. Her body ached from the explosion that had gone off next to her. She had managed to form a shield to protect her and Tom just in time which was likely the only reason she had survived. She looked around at the destroyed base all around her through her blurry vision. Through the haze of smoke and dust, she could hear the sounds of the machines walking around the base and soldiers dying. She faded back out of consciousness before fading back in, unsure of how much time had past. Liz looked on as two Lemnian soldiers walked in front of her, laughing and speaking in their native tongue. A soldier in a similar uniform to Liz crawled across the ground away from the Lemian soldiers, grunting in pain and leaving a trail of blood behind him from his stump leg. One of the solider walked ahead of his friend, continuing to laugh as he reached the man on the ground and pinned him down with his foot before shooting him in the back of the head causing his body to go limp. Liz once again blacked out before waking up once again to see two other Lemnian soldiers crouched down on top of her.

“Shit… this one’s alive,” one of the soldiers said. “What about her friend there.”

Liz managed to turn her head to the side seeing Tom Lying next to her unconscious.

“It’s not looking good,” The other soldier said.

“T…Tom…” Liz croaked.

“Wow hey… easy there don’t push yourself…yo… jus…”

The man's words faded out as Liz once again fell into unconsciousness.

Part 2- The Depths

Alex looked back down the ally way onto the busy street. He sore a police car slowly drive past the Ally way before he ducked behind a bin to stay out of sight. He peaked out from behind his cover to check to make sure the coast was clear before walking back out into the ally. He leaned over to the ground and grabbed at a manhole cover in the ally. Alex slid the cover out of the way before crawling down into the sewers and covering the hole back up behind him. As he stepped foot in the dank, dimly lit sewer he covered his nose.

“I’m never gonna be able to forget this smell,” Alex murmured to himself.

He walked down the walkway running along the stream of filthy, dark green, chunk filled water. Alex turned the corner into another part of the sewer seeing Adam sitting on the ground leaning against the wall with his eyes closed. His leg was outstreched with his bullet wound tightly wrapped up with gorse. Alex reached Adam, nudging him with his foot jolting him awake.

“Huh..what…”Adam murmured.

“Rise and shine sleepyhead,” Alex said reaching into the plastic bag he was carrying with him.

He pulled out a burger wrapped in a dirty wrapper. Adam took the burger out of Alex's hands.

“Do I want to know where you got these?”

“Nope.”

Alex slid down to sit next to Adam as he pulled a second burger out of the bag, unwrapped it a took a large bite trying to forget about the skip he had found them in.

“Manage to get in contact with the forward base?” Alex said.

Adam reached into his pocket and pulled out a small walkie talkie.

“Nope, plud batteries died awhile ago."

“Yeah, that figures. So what’s the plan now?” Alex asked through his full mouth.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“You know. How are we gonna get out of Lemia and back home?”

“Are you kidding me? We’re on our own, on the other side of the world, with the entire country trying to find us, and as far as anyone else knows we’re dead. I can barely walk cause of the bullet in my leg and currently our home is this beautiful, five-star sewer system. Yeah sure let's just stroll over to the nearest boat home, buy a ticket and it’ll be smooth sailing's. Get real, we’re not getting home, we’re going to die here.”

“Are you for real? You’re just gonna give up and let yourself rot away in this sewer?”

Adam continued to eat his burger in silence ignoring Alex’s words. Alex let out an irritated grunt before shoving the last of his burger into his mouth. He pulled himself up from the ground and swallowed his meal as he looked down at Adam.

“Fine, what do I care anyway. Have fun dying here but I'm not giving up, I’m gonna get back home and survive this whole thing. So good luck on your own,” Alex said before walking away from Adam leaving him to reflect.

Adam looked down to the ground, closed his eyes, and let out a deep breath. He stayed steadfast not moving an inch for a moment He turned to look at Alex as he walked away before letting out a short sigh. He slowly pulled himself off the ground keeping us much weight as possible off of his wounded leg.

“Wait up!” Adam yelled.

Alex stopped in his tracks and turned around to see Adam slowly limping towards him,

“There’s no way your gonna get out of here alone, you’re gonna need some help.”

Alex continued to watch with a scoul as Adam limped closer and closer.

“Fine… just don’t slow me down,” Alex said before turning and once again walking down the sewer at a slightly slower pace so Adam could keep up.

The pair continued to walk down the sewer in silence for a moment. Adam looked up to Alex as he took the lead.

“I’ve gotta ask… how are you staying so calm and optimistic through all of this?”

Alex smiled slightly as he thought on the question.

“I’ve got a friend at the forward base and I know for sure she’s alive and fighting to get home as well. If I gave up she would clock me over the head. I’m gonna get back home and see her again if it kills me,” Alex said, his voice filling with determination.

Adam continued to follow on behind Alex without saying a word, making sure not to let him on to his respect for Alex’s answer.

Part 3-The Forgotten Depths Of Lemia

Liz’s eyes slowly began to pull open. She looked around through blurry vision before rubbing her eyes clear. She found herself in a large stone room lit by a series of dim green lights in the ceiling. She was laying in a dirty, uncomfortably bed without any pillow. Liz pulled herself up grabbing at her aching side as she did. She pulled aside her tattered uniform burnt from the explosion to see a large scar in her side being held together by stitches. She looked around the room noticing several other beds all around the room some filled with other unconscious people as well as a door in the far corner left slightly ajar.

“What the…. Where the hell am I?” Liz asked herself in a croaky voice.

She swung her leg around off the bed and with a lot of effort pulled her self to a standing position. She looked to a small table next to her bed to see a tray with some medical tools on it covered in dry blood. Liz reached across and grabbed a scalpel off of the tray before turning to face the door. She slowly limped her way over to the door before pushing it wider open before poking her head out and looking around. Outside of the room was a long, wide-open stone corridor with several pillars running down the center of the hall. More green lights lit the room from the arched ceiling. The air was cold and slightly damp. Liz cautiously stepped out of the room and into the corridor. She looked left and right seeing no differences between either path before turning left and walking down the path. She walked slowly and cautiously making sure to keep an eye out for any movement. As she approached a small offshoot from the tunnel a man came walking out of the off shadows dressed in a military uniform. She instantly jumped forward towards the man holding her scalpel out towards him. Before the man had the chance to react Liz had him in a chokehold with her weapon aimed at his throat.

“Huh… hey, what the hell,” The man said.

Liz squeezed the man's throat tightly, cutting off his airflow for a moment before releasing.

“I ask the questions here, now where the hell am I? What is this place and what happened?” Liz demanded.

Two more guards stumbled out from an offshoot further down the tunnel. They noticed their ally in trouble immediately. They raised their guns as they approached Liz.

“Drop the weapon now!” The men ordered drawing Liz's attention to them.

She increased her grasp around the man's throat as she raised the scalpel towards the two men.

“You two back up… unless you want to be cleaning your friend's guts off the floor.”

The men turned to look at each other with concern before turning back to face Liz.

“Please, I gotta ask you not to hurt my men,” came a voice from behind Liz.

Liz turned around to look at where the voice had come from to see a man dressed in what appeared to be a military uniform but was different from the others. The man walked towards her slowly and steadily.

Liz raised her weapon to her captives throat.

“Don’t move an inch. Who the hell are you?”

“There's no need to do that, we’re not here to hurt you, we saved you from that battlefield after all,” the man said.

Liz’s mind flashed back to what she could remember from her brief moments of consciousness after the explosion. She remembered a group of soldiers dragging her through the battlefield and into a manhole. “Yeah well… forgive me If I’m a little skeptical,” Liz said.

“I can understand that,” the man said before raising his hand up to the two men with their weapons raised to Liz. They looked at each other for a moment before lowering their weapons. “But if we’re gonna get anywhere here we need to trust each other.”

Liz glanced at the man with a suspicious glare before loosening her grasp around her captive's neck and lowering her knife. The man jumped as far away from her as he could, panting with relief.

“Good, glad to see we’re seeing eye to eye,” The man said before looking at the other soldiers. “You lot get back to your patrol… ill handle this from here.”

“Sir!” the men all said in unison before walking off back on there way.

The man slowly walked towards Liz. She quickly raised her weapon to point at the man. He raised his hands up above his head with a sarcastic grin.

“Quit your smiling don’t move, I still have some questions for you. Who are you, what happened and what is this place?”

“I'm Tia… I'm sort of a big deal around here. As for the rest of your questions, if you'd like to follow me id be more then happy to explain.”

Tia turned and walked down the offshoot corridor that the man had come from. Liz looked on with suspicion for a moment before following him down the path.

“We were watching when the attack on your base happened. We managed to infiltrate the military and used the opportunity to get as many injured out of the battlefield as possible.”

“You were there? then why didn’t you do anything to help out?”

“You sore what happened out there. even if we had made a move it would have just resulted in more deaths.”

The pair continued to walk down the path in silence before coming up to a large elegantly carved stone door. Liz glanced over the man's strange uniform.

“You know for a bunch of people in military uniforms I'm starting to get the feeling you guys aren’t affiliated with them. So who are you lot anyway?”

The man smiled cockily as he raised his hand up and pressed them against the door.

“You're not wrong about that,” Tia said as he pushed the door open with a heavy shove. “Welcome.”

Liz's jaw almost dropped to the ground as she stared into the room. Behind the door was a wide-open area with a high arched roof being held up by large brick pillars. at the far end of the room was a large clock with shattered glass placed into the elegantly carved wall. Down the center of the area was a long line of beds each filled with injured soldiers. All around where hundreds of men and dressed in the same uniforms as Tia as well as people in white lab coats.

“To the resistance.”

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