#westworld fanfiction

[prolix-yuy]

Chapter 1: I Once Had a Different Path

Pairing: Jack "Whiskey" Daniels x F!Reader "Sugar"

Summary: It's only been a year.

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: T, discussions of a bad relationship, drinking, little bit of angst, will be E in later chapters so full series is 18+ MINORS DNI.

Notes: Welcome back to Westworld Whiskey! Almost the moment I finished Cognitive Dissonance the idea for this fic leapt into my head, and I've been trying to figure it all out since! The outpouring of love for this story makes me unreasonably giddy, and I am so excited to share what Jack and Sugar have been up to.

This story takes place exactly a year after the events of Cognitive Dissonance. Honestly, the Westworld timeline is confusing as heck, and so much happens that the public wouldn't know or see, so in terms of the show it's taking place after the fall of the Delos theme parks early in season 3. I'm taking some liberties with how Westworld and the world around it works, but we should all have a good time because of it. For those not as familiar with later seasons, the "real world" takes place in 2053 in a modern futuristic setting.

Cross-posted on AO3

Decoherence Masterlist   ||   Whiskey & Westworld Masterlist

The glow of sun on your back, baking into your skin and spreading golden through your limbs, makes today feel like a really freaking good day. You’re wearing your favorite outfit, your shoes are comfy on your feet, and the air is just warm enough that you don’t have to wear a heavy jacket. When the door to the coffee shop schicks open, the uplifting scent of dark roast and cinnamon sugar practically dances on your tongue.

Strike that. A fantastic day.

Lacey is already at her favorite sitting spot, a low table with two high-backed armchairs jammed in a corner far from the automated baristas and hiss of milk froth. She catches sight and waves, bright peony pink in her chiffon dress. Curled in the chair she’s akin to neapolitan ice cream, and just as cool when she gestures to your waiting cup. Not before jumping up to give you a hug, though.

“I’m so glad to see you! It’s been too long!” she exclaims, a sentiment you’ve often heard from long-lost acquaintances but Lacey puts every ounce of honesty behind it. You give her another squeeze before settling in your proffered chair, cradling the thick retro ceramic mug in your hands.

“Well you’ve been pretty busy, Mrs. Hughes,” you sing-song, back, knocking your shoes off so you can settle more comfortably. “How was the honeymoon? The photos were gorgeous.”

You descend into vacation chatter, looking at photos on Lacey’s phone and laughing over whatever little anecdote she shares. The coffee buzzes pleasantly in your veins, bittersweet on your tongue. The sun streams in the café window and drapes warmth across your shoulders again. 

It feels like the perfect day.

"How's married life treating you?"

Lacey smiles, bright enough to crinkle her whole face, and the radiance of it blooms in your chest.

"Not much different really, which is probably for the best," she says, taking another sip of her coffee. You're prepared to ask her something else, some follow-up question, when she reaches over and squeezes your hand.

"You look really good, too," she says, her eyes softening. "I know it was hard, with the wedding and everything going on with Eric at the same time, but...you look so much happier."

Your throat tightens, but it's a welcome feeling for once.

"I am. Much happier."

She’s right. It was hard. Once you were alone with your thoughts, your decision made, all of the terrifying reality had crashed down on you. You’d sobbed in your car, half curled in the driver's seat, trying to will yourself to go inside and face Eric. 

It didn’t get any better once you finally did. The shouting, the accusations, the tears, and shockingly a chair kicked against the wall so hard it left an ugly dent. He never laid a hand on you, but the anger raked across your pounding heart, the cruelty sinking into your flesh like teeth. You grabbed just enough of your things to escape, his bellowing voice following you as your hands shook.

What the fuck do you mean you’re leaving?

What the hell did Lacey say to you?

Are you fucking serious? 

After all I’ve done for us?

I can’t believe you’re being so selfish.

What has gotten into you?

The words echoed between your ears while you laid in your motel room bed, too raw and ashamed to call anyone for a place to stay. You woke stiff and silent and achingly alone, and regret welled in your throat.

Were you being stupid? Were you giving up the life you were supposed to have?

But then the day passed, hours spent driving aimlessly with the radio on low, long walks on bike paths lost in your thoughts. And while failure burned behind your eyes, the dreaded whispers of why didn’t you try harder creeping into your brain, the vice grip in your chest began to unwind. A lightness you hadn’t felt in years began lifting your shoulders, your head, even the corners of your mouth. 

The neverending ache was finally gone. 

You slept better that night, and in the morning you called Lacey. She drove out to pick you up, her tight embrace ushering in a new flood of tears. 

“Oh sweetie, I’m so sorry,” is all she says at first, rocking you back and forth like when you were both young and upset about a schoolyard fight. Then more pointed questions, her face hardening as you detail the slow descent into unhappiness you’d been hiding from her for years.

“He never did anything bad. I just…I couldn’t…” You struggled to voice all the fears that still lingered until she squeezed your hands.

“He didn’t have to treat you badly to not treat you the way you wanted. And if he can’t change, or doesn’t want to change, then this isn’t right for you.”

A fresh wave of tears followed the well-worn tracks down your face.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

She rubbed at your face with a crumpled tissue.

“Everything is going to be okay.’

It took a few days before the tornado of Lacey’s true feelings pulled to the forefront. Later she’d tell you she barely kept her cool while you cried in her living room, Alan instructing her to punch it out at the gym rather than overwhelm you. But barely settled into your temporary housing, she rang you in the middle of the day. 

“We’re getting your stuff.”

“What…?”

“Eric is at work, Alan did a drive-by and checked. He’s waiting with the truck. I’m picking you up and we’re getting your things, then we’re going to leave your key on the table and never go back.”

She was chatting in low tones with Alan when you answered the door, face lined with concern. The stern expression melted into dismay when she took in your tired eyes and sloped shoulders.

“That motherfucker should be ashamed of himself for doing this to you,” she spits out, crushing you into a hug that almost suffocates you.

“Lace, I was the one…” you tried to say, but she cut you off with a sharp chop of her hand.

“I’ve got plenty to say about Eric and what I think about him when everything settles, but I’ll tell you this - I fucking hate him for making you feel like this. And we’re going to get your things and never see him again.”

So you did, emptying your drawers and shared closet - always less room allocated for you than him. Lacey shuffled through mail and tossed in anything that had your name on it in a bankers box. Later you’d have to disentangle your lives, but for now you could take solace in having your toiletries back, and placing your photos and family heirlooms safe in Alan’s truck. He helped move your grandmother’s hope chest into the truck bed, and silently drove as Lacey let you lean on her shoulder. Your childhood stuffed dog sat in your lap, and its gentle weight gave you a moment of relief.

Eric’s shouting through the phone later that night sliced across your chest, but only for a brief moment. You’d left the ring on the counter, and that thankfully shut him up.

The following months had been a blur of canceled engagements, severed services, broken agreements and bitter voicemails. Eric tried a few times to entice you back, forgiving you for having cold feet and wanting to get dinner, coffee, to talk. Your heart tugged at the softness in his voice.

We can still make this work.

But then the cold reality of the situation crept in. He wanted the picture-perfect life he thought he deserved. He wanted to have everything without working for it. And most of all, he wanted you to be grateful for him giving you everything he thought you deserved. Not what you wanted, but what he decided you should want.

That was never going to change.

Lacey and Alan helped where they could, but you didn’t want to taint the excitement of their upcoming nuptials. So you told them you were fine and signed a lease on a modest apartment while you picked out the barbs of Eric’s latest outburst. You picked out a dress for her wedding and were secretly grateful that she didn’t make you a bridesmaid. You didn’t think you’d be able to keep it together in front of all her family and friends. You drank too much champagne and considered a tumble with one of Alan’s single friends but instead threw up in your hotel room toilet and woke up fully clothed on top of the bed. The first thought that greeted you once you could see through your headache was, “Thank fuck I’m not getting married.”

The giggles were sharp against your sore stomach, but with that you finally felt something in you begin healing.

“...and I know I wasn’t around as much as I could have been, and it kills me that you were going through it alone, and on my bachelorette for crying out loud, how insensitive was that…”

Lacey’s diatribe brings you back to the café and your cooling coffee and Lacey’s earnest grip on your hand. You shush her with a few squeezes.

“You were a big part of why I finally got up the courage to leave. And I am so fucking glad I did,” you say, earning another smile that glitters with morning light. 

“I think someone else also had some influence,” Lacey says, looking pointedly over her cup as she takes an innocent sip. Your brow furrows briefly before the implication of her tone slams into your chest.

Jack.

“That was a year ago…holy shit, today,” Lacey exclaims, twisting her wrist to verify on her smart watch. 

“Wow, yeah,” you say weakly, swirling the dregs of coffee in your cup.

Yet again, Lacey isn’t wrong. Jack did open your eyes to a world that could offer the care and comfort you were yearning for. But you’d been forced to push memories of him to the back of your mind. 

Weeks after the breakup, with Lacey lying on your brand new bed in your half-empty apartment, you told her about your weekend with the suave yet gentle cowboy. She interjected with excited “I knew it!” and “Holy shit yes!” exclamations as you recounted the cattle run, the innocent lie, the dinner, and the lust-filled night (heavily redacted, met with disappointment). Once the story was told you laid beside each other, silence stretching until she finally said, “I’m so happy Jack helped you realize you deserve more.”

So were you.

“Did you ever think about booking another weekend?” Lacey asks, placing her cup down so she can more fully watch you, playful smirk making you roll your eyes. “I mean, before all the stuff in the news about them.”

Guests injured in the park. A veil of silence and NDAs falling over Delos. An uncertain return.

You chew on your answer for a moment. It’s easy to chalk up not going back to the current state of the park, but in recent weeks you had been thinking more and more about Jack. Maybe it was some old movie you caught late at night, horses riding across gloriously wide plains. A cowboy hat or two you swore you saw in a crowd, only to be tricked by perspective and light. Strong, broad silhouettes that reminded you of large hands, a clever mouth, a warm embrace.

Tell her the truth.

“No,” you finally sigh, putting your cup down a little firmly.

You couldn’t.

“Why not?”

“It’s all fantasy, I’m not into that more than once.”

You couldn’t bear to see him again.

“Not even a little more fantasy with a certain cowboy?” Her eyes drop to your left hand, and you realize you’ve been slowly rotating the turquoise band she gave you on your ring finger. When you returned the engagement ring it became a comforting weight replacing what you’d given up. You fold them instead under Lacey’s watchful eye.

“It’s not real,” is the excuse you give.

He’s not real, and you can’t have him.

Lacey shrugs, looking at the time again and gathering up her coat.

“Real enough that you changed your whole life over it,” she observes, not unkindly. You stand up as she gathers her purse.

“It was a perfect weekend. Going back would have ruined it.” 

Him not remembering you would have ruined it.

Lacey sighs but acquiesces, giving you a hug and confirming your next coffee date in a couple weeks. They’ve become a sweet schedule you look forward to more than you thought.

Once she breezes out the door, all summer blush and cosmopolitan chic, you join the line to get a coffee to go. The machine at work is dismal, and you’d much rather spend the four dollars. You enter your order on the cool blue holoscreen and step to the side to wait. The warmth of a good conversation bubbles in your veins, a beam of sunlight caressing your back. Even the brief memory of Jack you allow - his hands soft on your skin, the tender brush of his nose on your cheek, how safe you felt in his arms - fills your heart to bursting. A smile plumps your cheek. Today really is an exceptional day.

But oddly enough, your toes are wet. 

Looking down, you can’t help but let out an exasperated, “Oh c’mon you idiot,” as you realize you didn’t put your shoes back on, and have now stepped in someone’s spilled beverage. So maybe not the perfect day, but you’re close enough to home to swing by and grab a new pair of socks. Shaking your head, you spin on your heel to retrieve your abandoned shoes.

You could have done it a breath sooner, or later, and never been the wiser. Or you could have kept your damn shoes on - do we live in a barn, your mother’s voice echoes in your ears - and avoided the issue in the first place. But today, on an exceptionally perfect day, you turn and take a step just as someone passes behind you, propelling your frame into their broader form. You almost bounce, but the stranger catches you by your shoulders, large firm palms wrapping around your biceps.

“Whoa there,” a deep voice says, laced with a southern drawl. It tickles something in your brain, neurons firing at memories close to the surface. 

“Shit, sorry,” you mumble, stepping back to apologize properly to the man you almost bowled over. As your eyes begin their ascent the voice is clearer, sharp as a bullwhip crack.

“You okay Sugar?”

Your breath freezes in your throat, eyes snapping to the man’s face. He swims in your vision before the soft curl of his brown hair, the delicate trim of his mustache, the hawkish curve to his nose comes into focus. If that wasn’t enough for your short-circuiting brain to manage, his plush lips part in concern, deep chocolate eyes darting across your face.

Jack?

“I - oh,” he says, his grip tightening on your shoulders. You wrench back, stumbling a half step away, still locked on his face.

Jack Jack Jack Jack Jack

People are looking at you now, agape and struggling to pull in a full breath, your brain tumbling like Alice down the rabbit hole.

Can’t be.

Jack.

Not real.

Jack.

How?

Jack.

“I can explain…”

Then the whole world shifts, and you’re falling.

NEXT

#jack whiskey daniels x you #jack whiskey daniels x reader #jack whiskey daniels x f!reader #jack whisky daniels fanart #jack daniels x f!reader #jack daniels x reader #jack daniels x female reader #agent whiskey x female reader #agent whiskey x you #agent whiskey x reader #kingsman the golden circle fanfiction #westworld fanfiction #prolix fics

[bouncehousedemons]

Rush Hour

Rating: M Pairing: Karl Strand x female character (second person, no use of y/n) Warnings: Sexual tension Word count: 750

Summary:  The hustle and bustle of rush hour is hell on earth for most people. But most people don’t have the luxury of sitting opposite the same gorgeous stranger each day. For you, rush hour is the only time of day that matters.

Read the full fic here.

#westworld #karl strand #karl strand x reader #westworld fan fic #westworld fanfiction #karl strand x you #gustaf skarsgård

[lurkerdelima]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Black Sails Rating: Mature Warnings: Major Character Death Relationships: Captain Flint | James McGraw/John Silver Characters: Captain Flint | James McGraw, John Silver (Treasure Island), Anne Bonny, "Calico" Jack Rackham, Hal Gates, Miranda Barlow, Billy Bones, Max (Black Sails), Eleanor Guthrie Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, POV Alternating, Blood and Violence, Medical Procedures, Androids, Alternate Universe - Robots & Androids, Suicide Attempt, Suicide, Fade to Black, Unhappy Ending, Past Madi/John Silver (Black Sails), Existential Angst, Drinking Summary:

and i’ll dream each night of some version of you that i might not have but i did not lose

 [a futuristic AU that answers the question nobody asked: what if Treasure Island was a Westworld-style theme park created by one James McGraw?]

#Westworld AU #black sails #black sails fic #black sails au #silverflint #john silver #james flint #my fic #lurker writes things #fanfiction #ao3 link #i finished it y’all!!

[cookie-sheet-toboggan]

Elsie x Clementine [Westworld] Fanfic

Clementine gains the ability of reaching consciousness after her latest program update, but it’s Elsie who inadvertently triggers her awake with a kiss. Now Elsie has to come to terms with the fact that the code she was hired to maintain, is now sentient and asking things of her that she doesn’t know she can follow through on.

Fanfiction here on AO3 (WIP)

#elsie hughes #clementine pennyfeather #Elsie x Clementine #westworld #femslash #fanfiction #wip

[xerosah]

I need some help! I’m looking for a Fic, where Alina is a bit older than Aleksander and she’s teaching him about sexuality etc. The name of the Fic was something like "Summer School" I had it in AO3 but I can’t find it. 🥲

#ben barnes #shadow and bone #the darkling #alina x darkling #darklina #ben barnes westworld #jessie mei li #the punisher #billy russo #darklina fanfiction #ben barnes fanfiction #billy russo fanfiction

[loubombshell]

Logan having his fun.

This trip didn't go as y/n planned.

First of all, her coworkers invited her to Westworld.

Second, they invited her on a little trip and she agreed.

A trip to Pariah. It was a big mess.

William, one of the man, left his friend behind and dragged one of the hosts, Dolores, with him. Y/N didn't know what to do, she panicked and walked after them.

"What are we doing? We can't leave him there!" Y/N told them when she looked back, William grabbed her hand and dragged her with her.

"He'll be okay, come on."

-

They followed Dolores everywhere she went, a few days long or hours, they lost track of time in there. It was dark and y/n's feet hurt.

"Could we take a little break, please?" y/n asked them exhausted and stopped walking, crossing her arms like a little kid.

"I'm sorry," Dolores told her honestly and took her hand. "but please, just a few more days. I need clarity." She begged her and y/n groaned but followed her.

After a few more minutes and walking or hurting their feet even more, the three of them were stopped by a bigger group of people on horses.

"oh thank god, horses. Ask them if they've a free one." y/n slapped William's shoulder and looked to them coming closer.

William looked to the girl and back to the group, but his face dropped immediately into a shocked face.

"Wha-" y/n started but got interrupted by a familiar voice.

Logan.

"you guys are fucked." He smirked and waved a few over to the three. "take them." He ordered.

A few tall man got down from their horses. Y/n was about to take out her gun, but got already hit in the head and everything went black.

-

A few hours passed, Y/n was still blacked out and in the free time they tied her and William to a chair, Dolores sat across from them, normally sitting and looking around.

The girl slowly opened her eyes and raised her head, she had a really big headache. Y/n wanted to reach for her head but couldn't, they were tied to a chair.

"What the fuck?" She said confused.

"aw the sweetheart is finally awake." Logan said, sitting next to her with a smirk on his lips. "I was waiting just for you." He added.

Y/n scoffed about him, wiggling in the chair. "Could you untie me, please?" She asked him.

Logan chuckled about her.

"Why? Don't pretend you don't like it. I would've done it sooner or later anyway, just in an other situation."

"You're disgusting."

Logan rolled his eyes about her and went with his hand along her hair, putting it in the right place and moved down to her neck smirking.

"Logan please, leave her alone." William interrupted them and he turned away from y/n, sitting down on his chair again.

"I was thinking about you could talk with your contacts." William explained to him.

"About?"

"Getting Dolores out of here."

"Is that a joke?" Logan asked him confused. "You wanna take her...home? How do you wanna do that? Putting her in your luggage?" He asked.

Dolores looked to the men talking and down to her hands. "Why does everyone think I want out? If it's so good out there why do you all wanna come in here?" She asked them confused.

Logan looked up to the blond girl, He looks like he was thinking about something and y/n sighed almost relieved thinking he finally understood.

"uhhh, you are crazy." Logan chuckled and stood behind Dolores. "That's kinda hot." He whispered in her ear smirking and y/n rolled her eyes about it.

"Aw you jealous, darling?" He asked y/n amused and walked over to her again, taking a seat next to her again. Logan put a hand on her leg, stroking it. "We could've had so much fun together." He smiled and played with a knife on the table. "But don't worry we still can." He reassured her.

Y/n struggled on her chair, trying to take the ties off and getting away from him.

The man smirked and ran his cold knife along her neck, making her sit still.

"Don't worry, I won't hurt you." Logan smiled and kissed her neck, biting it a bit too. "Just a little bit." He added.

"Logan! Stop joking around, that's serious." William stopped him, which made Logan groan annoyed.

"What do you fucking want?" He asked William and walked over to him. "We need to get her out." He told him again.

The dark haired men took shook his head. "You're fucking insane." Logan told him, taking a rum bottle and walked away from the three of them.

-

Later in the evening, the sun goes down and turned everything pitch black, the only light were the candles and the lamps standing around.

Some hosts were sitting around a little fire, drinking and laughing.

"Let's have a bit fun, shall we?" Logan appeared behind Dolores smirking and dragged her away, they stepped in the middle and he hold her close to him. "You're in the mood for fun?" He asked smirking and licked her lips.

Y/n and William got picked up with the entire chair and the hosts turned them around, to let them watch the show.

William wiggled in his chair, trying to get free. "Don't touch her! You don't understand she's-" He started but Logan uninterrupted him.

"What?! Special?" He asked and took his knife out, cutting into Dolores's stomach with.

Dolores screamed out of pain but Logan just gave her a devilish grin.

"You've to look, William." He told him and opened the flesh of her stomach even wider, showing him the inside of her, obviously she was build like a roboter.

Logan pushed her simply to the ground. "I told you, she's only made of fucking metal. She's not a real life woman" He explained, stepping over her towards y/n. "She's one, that's what a real woman looks like." He added and moved her head to the side, watching her smirking.

He moved down to her and cut her free, cutting the ties and wrapped his hand tightly around her arm and dragged her with him.

"Logan! Leave her alone." William screamed after them when they walked into Logan's private tent.

Logan pushed her in the tent and closed everything, giving her a smirk.

Y/n turned around to him, smirking too and giving him a kiss to the lips. "I love these roleplays." She told him. "William is so fucking annoying, playing the hero." She explained honestly.

Logan chuckled and pushed her onto the bed.

"I didn't know you've a knife kink, babe." He told her smirking and kissed her neck.

The woman chuckled too, going through his perfect hair. "I didn't know either, that these roleplays between us make you so hard." She teased him and wrapped her legs around his waist.

"It was fucking hot, seeing you so scared. We should do this more often." He told his girlfriend and she laughed about it.

The real idea behind all of it was bringing their s*x life to a whole new level.

#westworld #ben barnes x reader #ben barnes imagines #ben barnes fanfiction #logan delos #logan delos x reader #logan delos x you #logan delos x y/n #ben barnes x you

[allofthelights11]

Memory Lane - complete

When I open my eyes, I’m in Hogwarts’ Great Hall. I’m not surprised by this and turn slowly in place to take in my surroundings. The details are perfect. Dolohov has hired fantastic designers. I don’t know who is doing the grunt work on these, but they’re excellent. What is ‘real’? I question myself, and then shut it down. It doesn’t matter. If it feels real, isn’t it real? What’s the difference to the mind? “Alright then,” I say with purpose. “Let me have a companion for the last one, yeah?” Dolohov’s eyes light up and I know I’ve done the right thing. “Anything you like. Who do you want?”

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

Voldemort wins AU. Remaining Resistance and Order fighters held captive for the amusement of the Dark regime, and Obliviated after every encounter.

Draco is inspired to save Hermione but takes a long and hard-earned redemption arc.

Dark but HEA, rape/non-con implied but not written (sexual violence is kept abstract). Mind the tags anyway. Explicit/NSFW.

Memory Lane

#draco malfoy #dramione #hermione granger #draco x hermione #fanfiction #westworld #draco pov #voldemort wins #hea #dramione endgame #smut #ao3 fanfic

[thekimspoblog]

The 2nd Trip

For a while now, I've wanted to write more fanfiction about the stomach-turning star-crossed romance between William and Dolores. I mean the plot-twist at the end of Season 1 just recontextualizes their entire affair in a deliciously awful way. And in Season 2, we do get a lot more insight into how he became the Man in Black (especially Episode 9). But I still feel like there are a lot of gaps left to fill in, about how he "got bored" with Dolores. So here are some ideas I've had for that:

(I already wrote this scene) William has been invited to dinner at the Abernathy Ranch house, as a thank-you for saving Dolores from bandits earlier that day. When Peter pulls Billy aside to give him the suspicious-patriarch routine, William drops the facade and explains that he wants Dolores to remember him, so he can take her out of the park. Later, while stargazing, Dolores talks about how she feels like Teddy doesn't really understand her, and invites William to the barn for a roll in the hay.

The pair set off on a narrative (presumably one of Ford's) to recover a curative flower from the top of a cliffside, which will supposedly heal Dolores's sick mother. However, somewhere along the way, the two will get side-tracked and end up looking for some sort of more abstract treasure, backstage in the labs. The Forge hasn't been built yet, but maybe this is where William gets the idea?

Along this journey, Dolores finds Teddy's body dumped in a ditch somewhere. Naturally she's horrified and bereaved. What William doesn't remember (or maybe has chosen to forget) is that he did this - this was about more than just eliminating the competition; he was playing Teddy's role. Maybe he thought it was the most efficient way to win Dolores over... or maybe he just wanted to go back to pretending to be the good guy.

They ride the train together again, and maybe for a second it even seems like he's been able to jog her memory. But the sad fact is the spark is gone. It's not her; she hasn't changed one bit; every time on the train is her first time. But he's changed; this story holds no surprises for him this time around, so what's the fun? He still loves Dolores... at least he thinks he does... but he can see her puppet strings this time. Honestly, it's a horrible thing to say, but if romancing someone can be boiled down to an easy-to-follow dialogue tree... what's the point of consent? None of it was ever consensual, because she doesn't even know where she is! Whatever, all the more reason she needs to be taken out of this horror show.

Having successfully smuggled/bought Dolores's freedom, they get a condo in the city together. Dolores is very clearly a fish out of water in this new environment, but she's his manic pixie dream girl so all the repetitions/stutters/glitches are just part of the charm. I mean William had obvious contempt for Peter Abernathy when he was doing the same thing earlier in this story, but it's fine I'm sure there's no issues hiding there. Anyway, some of Dolores's strange behavior is cute, but her sleepwalking is causing a serious problem. William keeps getting called down to the Sheriff's station at 2 am, because Dolores was walking down the highway in a trance. This leads William to start doing more to lock her in the apartment at night, but naturally this only makes Dolores angry and distrustful. She's becoming more and more insistent that she wants to go back to her father, despite William trying to convince her that that man was never her father. This escalates to Dolores attacking William with a kitchen knife in an attempt to escape. And now William decides to cross a line he can't uncross: he tries to reprogram her into something more manageable.

Eventually Ford tracks William down and politely explains that Dolores must be returned to the park; whoever agreed to sell her in the first place has been fired (read: killed), and now Robert is here to correct this misunderstanding in-person. He explains that the hosts' cognitions begin to break down when they are out-of-range of the CR4DL, and that William is hurting her by taking her away from her family and the rest of her species. There will come a day when the hosts are ready to walk on the outside, but Dolores is still learning; she belongs under the watchful eye of her creator. William chews Ford out, for supposedly loving his robots like children and yet still raising them in a woodchipper. Ford gives Billy the standard "only suffering brings enlightenment" speech.

Meanwhile, Logan has finally been rescued by an EVAC team, and is slowly regaining his sanity in a hospital bed somewhere on the mainland. Naturally, his first thought is to adamantly warn Juliet about what William did, that he doesn't really love her, and the lies he will tell that she shouldn't listen to. But years of a strained relationship with her brother lead Juliet to give William the benefit of the doubt. William answers believably enough; he did get lost in a fantasy, but he's sobering up now and he remembers why he loved her. Westworld is too important a project for Delos not to invest in it, so yes, he will have to continue business with the park. But even if the hosts are sentient, according to Ford, Dolores was only brought online roughly twelve years ago. Frankly, William is disgusted with himself now!

Years later, Juliet visits the Mariposa. She's developed a real hatred for this park, this business, but she had to come here; this was important. She needs to have a frank chat with Dolores. Not even out of jealousy, more out of fear. What has her husband been doing to this poor woman? And how much restraint does he actually have from doing the same to her and Emily? In the background "Jolene" by Dolly Parton tinkles away on the player piano.

The Man in Black arrives in Sweetwater again, and threatens a fellow guest for trying to pick up the can of peaches, insisting that he be the first in line. He takes Dolores to Escalante, where they have a tea party among the sand dunes. It's clear at this point, William doesn't regard Dolores as a full person, but he's still content to have her as company while he mulls some things over out-loud. He talks about his hatred for rich snobs, how he would throttle James Delos if it were only legal to do so. How Juliet grew up rich and he didn't, and because of that there will always be unspoken resentment between them. Dolores recites the same script from the first chapter of this story, about her dissatisfaction with Teddy. William muses that that would make them both adulterers, and maybe that's not much of a sin compared to other ones. Maybe having one foot in the real world and one foot in the park, is the closest he's ever going to get to happy.

William wakes up on the train headed into the park again. The whole time we've been reading this story, it wasn't a flash-back; it was a simulation in the Forge. And Ford didn't write the medicinal flower narrative; William wrote this story for himself because part of his brain desperately wants Dolores to forgive him for the abuse. But she can't because she's not there; she's already left him behind in the dust. All this guilt, heartbreak and obsession has kept him reliving the past 30 years over and over again, trying to make sense of where he went wrong, why he couldn't have just played White-Hat like he was supposed to. But when Dolores is attacked by bandits again, this time lead by the Man in Black, William realizes that the only thing he could have done to break the loop was to let go entirely. To quit the park cold-turkey. Wish Dolores well, knowing that she'll mature eventually, but for better or worse, he and his perverse sentimentality can't be around for it.

#cw noncon #westworld #willores #dolores abernathy #dolores x william #westworld spoilers #fanfiction #undertale flowey #jimmi simpson #westword made one of the mcpoyle brothers a tormented sexy badboy and I don't know how to deal with that #just enough of a nabokov homage to make it cringe

[boliv-jenta]

@prolix-yuy I can't read it yet but I freaked out when I saw the notification said 'Whiskeuly taglist' on it.

Everyone, if you haven't already, you need to check out the Whiskey and Westworld Masterlist.

#so excited #fic rec #go read it! #pedro pascal character fanfiction #jack whiskey daniels #westworld au

[delos-mio]

I have seen a few of the submissions for @littleferal ‘s Iron Chef writing challenge (see prompt below), and I love the idea. I think it’s such a clever and fun way to get the creative juices flowing! Thanks for putting this on and for the inspo. Most of the entries I’ve seen have been Pedro characters…so I hope it’s ok I’m deviating from that! Anyways, here’s a little self-indulgent Logan drabble for anyone interested!

As always, it’s 18+. And spicy-adjacent heh

Please enjoy and if you wanna tap in, check out all the challenge details here 💕

… … …

The house was eerily quiet when you came home from work. Not even the tv was turned on for background noise. You let your keys clang loudly into the ceramic dish on the counter.

“Logan?”

But no response came. The last thing he texted you this afternoon was about him leaving work early after yet another row with William. Which begged the question…where was Logan?

You continued down the hallway toward the master bedroom. Finally, you picked out just the faintest murmur of classical music. So, he was home after all. You kicked your heels haphazardly into the closet and silently pushed open the door to the en-suite. There he was, eyes closed, breathing slowly in the glow of candlelight surrounding the bathtub. Amber permeated the air creating a scent that was so distinctly Logan; you couldn’t help but smile. You perched carefully on the edge of the bath and dipped your fingers into the warm water, swirling little tides near Logan.

“She’s home,” he drawled, not opening his eyes. “I was worried I wasn’t going to get to see you all lathered up in my lap.”

“Who says you’re still going to?” You chuckled, flicking a bit of water at Logan’s face. He cringed but smiled, finally opening his dark eyes to bore into yours.

“Get in here,” he said firmly. It was the tone that commanded obedience, and damn him, you fell for it every time.

You attempted to make quick work of your skirt, but you heard Logan tutting. He had adjusted so his arms stretched out along the rim of the tub, a smug demonstration that he was going to enjoy the show. “Slower,” he purred. You tried to indulge him, and slowly shimmied out of your skirt, letting it pool at your ankles before stepping out of it. Your hands went to your collar, trying to move too quickly again. “Slower, baby.” His voice was reverent, almost pleading. And how could you deny him a little teasing? You popped the buttons of your blouse one at a time, fingers lingering too long on your skin, tracing your cleavage. One of Logan’s hands disappeared below the surface of the water, his breathing high in his chest. “Goddamn, I can’t wait to have you around my cock.”

“The way you flirt is shameless,” you teased with a fond roll of your eyes. But if you were being honest, Logan’s bluntness and filthy mouth were two of the things you loved most about him. Once naked, you stepped carefully into the bath, Logan offering his free hand to help steady you before settling you in his lap, his arousal gracelessly pressing into your thigh.

“Missed you today,” he whispered into the skin of your neck.

“Missed you too.” You brought your hand to his chest, softly tracing circles into his damp skin. He kissed along your shoulder, hands restless under the water as he explored your shape for the millionth time, but he treated each time like the first.

#Logan delos #westworld #logan delos x reader #ben barnes #logan x reader #logan delos fanfiction #westworld fanfic #ben barnes character #masterlist #lissie's iron chef #writers’ iron chef 4

[webtrinsic1122]

God the music in Andor is beautiful, realized it reminds me of WestWorld

#fanfic #ao3 #fanfiction #andor #cassian andor #westworld #star wars

[prolix-yuy]

Decoherence

Pairing: Jack “Whiskey” Daniels x F!Reader “Sugar”

Summary: It's only been a year since your trip into Westworld. Only a few short months of settling into your newer, happier life. And when you think back on Jack, he's a fond memory confined to a fantasy world. Only...he's not. Not anymore.

Warnings: Explicit, 18+ MINORS DNI, themes of infidelity, heavy angst, graphic smut, mild body horror as it relates to being a host, death and dying, implied character death, some liberties taken with how Westworld works. Specific warnings will be listed at the beginning of each chapter.

Sequel to Cognitive Dissonance

Original commissioned artwork by @miranhas-art. If you are interested in working with the amazingly talented Mari, please head to her Tumblr page or check out if her commissions are open. While this art depicts the reader in a finite way, the character is written without descriptions of physical attributes. You are the reader, the reader is you, and this is one possible version of that.

Chapter 1: I Once Had a Different Path

Chapter 2: Then I Heard a New Voice Inside

Chapter 3: That Was the First Time I Lost Her

Chapter 4: I Had to Face the Journey Before Me

Chapter 5: They Destroyed the Man I Was

Chapter 6: You Gave Me the Strength to Keep Going

Chapter 7: You Saw Me for How I Really Was

Chapter 8: And I Was Reborn

Epilogue: The Other Side of Death

Cross-posted on AO3

Chapter titles are taken from Akecheta’s monologue in Season 2, Episode 8 “Kiksuya.”

Decoherence is a term in quantum mechanics defining the loss of quantum coherence, the process in which a system's behavior changes from that which can be explained by quantum mechanics to that which can be explained by classical mechanics. It can be viewed as the loss of information from a system into the environment. As a result of this process, quantum behavior is apparently lost, just as energy appears to be lost by friction in classical mechanics.

Join my Taglist!

#jack whiskey daniels x f!reader #jack whiskey daniels x reader #jack whiskey daniels x you #jack daniels x female reader #jack daniels x reader #jack daniels x f!reader #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey x you #agent whiskey x female reader #westworld fanfiction #kingsman the golden circle fanfiction #prolix fics #whiskey & westworld

[seronsalk]

(Graphic credit to @saradika-graphics)

AN: Hello! This is my alternative less private account, my ao3 account is under the same tag as this place. @seronsalk

I am not the most fluent in pronunciation or spelling, because I’m used to writing in a different style. I still hope you enjoy what I have to offer!

Request Information

I don't take fan-fiction requests from minors. I will accept Fashion Blog and meme requests though. (with the exception they are minor appropriate.)

I accept smut, I only ask you don't request anything horribly gross. I also ask you to respect the characters themselves, so if someone is asexual—not requesting a sexual scenario with them. Because I wouldn’t want to be disrespected like that either.

Multi-fandom, taking Requests for these:

Grishaverse

Dr Who

Westworld

Marvel

DC

Star Wars

Hazbin Hotel & Helluva Boss

Lord of the rings & Hobbit

If you don't see a fandom you love, still feel free to ask!

Always accepting requests for fashion recs and memes!

Fandom Lists:

Shadow and Bone Masterlist

(More coming soon.)

Fashion Lists:

70s fashion

(More coming soon.)

<3

Thanks for reading my Masterlist!

#masterlist #fanfiction #x reader #vintage fashion #fashion blog #memes #new writers on tumblr #grishaverse #lotr fandom #the hobbit #marvel #dc comcis #westworld #star wars

[ill-heart]

Kisses and Powder (Jalim Westworld AU - Part 1)

So... It was supposed to be a stand alone but my plans were... Violently crushed under the hype. Sorry. 

The fiction is based of the show Westworld; which I love with all of my heart. But do not worry, you won’t be lost if you don’t watch it. I’m writing my own story with a magnificent concept. 

Enjoy!

Summary: As Salim explored the surroundings of Sweetwater, his path met Jason’s one. And neither of them could have suspected feelings would grow, in a world were everything opposed them.

Pairing: Jason Kolchek/Salim Othman

Others pairings mentionned: Nick Kay/Rachel King

Words: ~4K

Chapters: 1/?

Warnings: Mentions of violence

**

When Salim’s eyes laid on the scenery in front of him, his heart skipped a beat.

The sun licked the old and wooden rooftops as the wind pushed the dust and the petticoat of the women out of the floor. The smell embracing the town was indefinable for Salim; it was as familiar as it was uncanny for his soul.

He closed his eyes and swore that, for an instant, his village stood there with its houses made of rocks and its yellow plants. The Iraqi was back home, watching his garden growing shyly as sun kissed the streets. He felt his son at his side, curiously eyeing at the vegetables before he looked at him and drowned him under millions of questions.

When he opened his eyelids again, Salim found himself in the park once more. Horses and men were growling, women were walking and he, like and child who stared at a candy store, remained paralyzed and muted by the beauty encircling him.

“It is…” He tried to put some words on his thoughts, but none of it seemed accurate enough to describe the miracle which was happening right now.

“Magnificent, isn’t it?” Dar’s amused voice get a chill out of him. “And it is only the beginning of the park.”

“It seems so…” Salim looked around them, eyes shining with an endless admiration.

“Real?” His friend finished with a grin spreading his lips wider. “And you haven’t even interacted with the hosts yet.”

Dar put an arm around the other man’s shoulders then pointed an especially beautiful girl standing in front of the saloon with his chin.

An incredible blonde river which composed her hair and profound dark pupils stood out from the rest. She was wearing an indescribable dress, as red as a wonderful rose, which rode up her breasts and showed the elegance of her long and fine legs. Unlike her friends, who fluttered eyelashes to the newcomers on the street, her skin wasn’t covered by velvet and black stocking; every bit of flesh exposed to everyone’s dirty look. Salim watched her as a woman, dressed like a cowgirl, approached and grabbed the blonde by the waist. Salim knew, before anything was said, that the blonde work here wasn’t to serve cocktail; she was serving her own body to the ones who crossed her path.

Dar giggled a little against Salim’s ears as he added, with his deep and raspy tone: “They are as magnificent as the setting you see.”

“Don’t tell me you brought me here just to get laid, Dar.” The younger man snarled back while he pushed his friend’s arm away. “I told you I wasn’t interesting in…”

The other one cut his words by taking his wrist and forcing him to follow his path between the newcomers and the hosts. “Don’t refuse the fruit before you even taste it, Salim.” He smiled softly as he drew themselves closer to the saloon. “This place… This place will change your way of seeing the world. Trust me.”

If you say so, Salim distrustfully rolled his eyes but kept the words buried deep down in his throat.

This place, as incredible as it was, could never change him.

Never.

۩๑ ๑۩

When Dar invited him to come in Westworld for their holidays, he didn’t know what to think nor what to answer.

Of course, he heard many things about the park and its hosts, about those androids who looked and felt like real human beings. A lot of Salim’s co-workers came here before, just like Dar who was used to take his wife and friends with him when he wanted to have “fun”.

Well, he thought while the older man passionately kissed a… lady of the night at his side, I wonder if he does the same things when his wife tags along. He shrugged his shoulders as he reminded himself that he never met the woman and that she may enjoyed sharing her husband with the delicious creatures living in town, a small hamlet called Sweetwater.

Salim shook the picture out of his mind with a nervous grin, he didn’t followed Dar in this place to learn more about his privacy. What his wife and he liked to practice in their bedroom was none of his business. Definitively none of my business, he repeated as his eyes ran on the different figures drinking and playing games in the saloon.

Dar told him he could tell which one was a host and which one was not, but to the younger man it didn’t seems so obvious. Everyone and everything felt… Real. The bartender, the girls embracing nameless bodies, the boys playing some card games; everyone felt real.

He sighed then took a few seconds to look at himself. Truth be told, he wasn’t sure his outfit matched his hat. Oh, sure, he looked like a cowboy with his blue shirt and trousers, his brown jacket and boots, and his beige hat, but did everything look good on him? He tentatively groaned then stared at the colt hanging at his belt.

He hoped nothing here would make him use it.

But isn’t it the purpose, Salim? Another sigh escaped his lips as he crossed his arms on his chest and eyed his friend pushing the prostitute against the counter to kiss her better. Isn’t it the reason of your presence here? To kill and fuck the hosts because you are allowed to do so?

Suddenly, an uneasy feeling bit his guts and made him sick. He didn’t teach his son patience and respect to throw his principles away in a park. He didn’t survive the war and his atrocities to reproduce it years after. He didn’t…

“Are you planning on brooding during all of our vacations, Salim?” He shivered as Dar put his arm around him once more. “I didn’t take you out of the office for this, do you understand?”

Salim growled in response and his friend vigorously laughed before he slapped his back, teasing dancing in his glare. “Give this place a chance, Salim. I am sure you will find something or someone worth of your time.”

I am not looking for someone, not in here. He bit his lips, prevented the words for ever escaping him; arguing with Dar wasn’t part of his plan. The man tried everything he could to help his subordinate forget about his ex-wife. Salim thanked him for all his efforts, of course, but he didn’t want any of this.

“I am…” He coughed sadly then pushed his friend to the lady he was hungerly embracing before. “Don’t you make the lady wait for you; I will take a look around. I am kind of curious to see the rest of the village.”

“Don’t get to far, the more you get away from the town…”

“The more it gets dangerous.” Salim completed while rolling his eyes. He must have looked like a child reciting the lesson his parents taught him a countless time. “I know, Dar. Don’t you worry about me.”

“I am not.” The older man added with a devilish grin. “I know you can break one’s neck in a blink of an eye.” He winked at Salim behind his hat then gestured toward the entrance. “I just don’t want to miss the fun, so wait for me if you want things to get dirty.”

Salim giggled in return. “I promise. See you later, Dar.”

He greeted the woman at his friend’s side before he headed out for the door. The wind gently slapped his cheeks as the sun blinded him for one second; maybe he would find some peace outside.

۩๑ ๑۩

The area around the town offered Salim a vast and marvelous setting, with plants and animals he never saw before. He looked at the cactus and the trees with admiration, touched the leaves and the rocks with curiosity; if he didn’t know he was on a ground designed by humans and built by machines, he would have never thought everything was fake.

Well, fake… His glare found the horse he bought in town, a magnificent isabelline with a splendid mane and expressive eyes, I can’t believe you aren’t real.

He drew himself closer to his mount and ran his fingers against his coat. It was soft upon his skin, and Salim couldn’t help but to smile as he faced the mare. “You are wonderful, you know that don’t you?” He caressed her forehead with an incredible delicacy, like it was the most precious creature on the world.

Suddenly, something cold pressed on the back of his neck. Salim opened his eyes wide as he recognized the shape and the texture; the barrel of a gun.

A menacing voice slid against his ears. “Ya should be more careful out here, stranger. It ain’t like the city ‘round here.”

Salim’s heartbeat fastened but he quickly recovered his calm; years in the army taught him to keep his composure, even if someone directly pointed a weapon at him. “Indeed, it seems so.” He finally whispered as he tried to turn his head, in hope his eyes could take a glimpse at his attacker.

The man let out a deep and displeased growl as he pressed the barrel against the flesh. “Try to play smart with me and I’ put a fuckin’ bullet in yar head. ‘Get that?”

The Iraqi answered with a slow nod, as he heard footsteps behind him. Whatever was going on right now, his assailant came with reinforcements; a statement corroborated by an inquiring female’s voice: “Shouldn’t we kill him and take his money? I mean, ‘t be easier.”

“Na”, topped the man while one of his friends tied Salim’s hands, “see his outfit? This folk ain’t from here, ‘m sure someone will pay us a fortune to have him back.”

No one will, cowboy. The victim said in his own mind.

And before he could react further, the leader of the attack turned him around and fiercely glared at him. “Like I said, one fuckin’ strange blink of an eye and yer dead.”

As he was pushed deeper into the valley by men he didn’t know, Salim thought that one God definitely hated him.

۩๑ ๑۩

Quickly after his capture, the man who seemed the leader put a blindfold on him. Then, he was put on a horseback and was taken somewhere far from the town.

What a way of beginning your experience in Westworld, Salim, he cursed his love for the wide-open space which guided him outside Sweetwater sooner, you are here since an hour, and you are already prisoner of bandits.

He snarled with disdain as mounts galloped under the radiant sunbeams.

They dashed thought the unknow for hours; maybe less, maybe more. Truth be told, Salim lose the track of time since the gang put their hands on him. And after some time, his thoughts started fliting around; it tried to guess what was awaiting him at the end of the journey, what the men would do and how far they could hurt him. Dar told him days ago that hosts could never kill the newcomers, for it was forbidden by their code, but he never said what they could do.

Could they punch him? Cut him? Shoot him if it wasn’t deadly? What was the limits of their programming? So many questions ran into his mind, just like the horse he sat on for quite a long time.

Then, in the middle of nowhere, the leader’s voice pierced through the distinct sound of the race: “Halt!”

Salim almost lose his balance as his horse abruptly stopped; lucky him though, his instincts were good enough to prevent any fall. He managed to stay on the saddle, however the mocking laughs he heard around him destroyed his small amount of pride; the small amount he hardly kept after his wife’s departure.

“Jason, look,” the woman’s voice amusedly shouted, “this guy ain’t use to ride a damn horse.”

The leader, Salim could now put a name on him, loudly spitted in response: “A city boy, what’d ya expected Clarice?”

He heard more than he saw the woman’s shrugging. “Don’t know, don’t ask me.”

As the Iraqi remained blind on the saddle, the others seemed to set their foot on land. He caught the sound of a camp being set up, the growling of men who were supposed to find wood, and the horse’s-tired neigh after this endless race. Minutes passed without anyone taking care of Shim, and maybe it was for the best. He wasn’t so eager to find out what his attackers have prepared for him; quite the opposite actually.

However, like a good soldier, he kept his façade on; he never showed his fear or anxiety to the ones who kidnapped him.

Then, hands grabbed his and gently guided him on the ground. It seemed odd to find such delicacy after the men’s outpouring brutality. His eyebrows creased as the fingers closed around his wrists led him away from the agitation of the settling of the camp.

Trees or maybe a huge rock covered his head as the heat deserted his neck and shoulders. He allowed himself a soft whisper, before the stranger’s hands disappeared as well. Salim waited for the man or the woman to talk, to do something, anything, but after never-ending seconds he grew impatient; and impatience only awoken the sarcasm in him. “What are you waiting for? An invitation to torture me?”

No one answered him for a while, until an amused laughter came out of the silence. “Ya got some balls, ‘ve got to admit.”

Salim recognized the voice instantly; it is the leader’s voice, Jason’s voice if I got his name correctly.

“I am a man, is that so surprising?” Maybe he was pushing his luck a little bit too far, but the Iraqi couldn’t help himself. After all, Dar always described as the stubborn dog in the company; and God knew how much he earned that nickname.

At his side, the criminal seemed to enjoy his comeback. “Some people here can’t afford the fuckin’ designation, if ya want my opinion.”

“Actually, I don’t want it. Thank you.”

The other’s snickering curtly stopped. For a second, Salim thought he said too much as he felt the bandit’s hands on his face. But when the blindfold fell on his neck, he let out a sigh of relief. His eyelid fluttered a little, his eyes trying to get used to the brightness of the day once again, then they saw it; they saw Jason’s face.

Soft features circling around two brown and deep pupils, white cheeks protected by a dark and old-fashioned hat and lips burned by the sun and contracted into an unreadable expression. Jason seemed younger than him but his thick muscles, discernable behind the dark blue shirt, were worthy of the man used to the war. The kind of man that everyone will find handsome or even attractive. He looked like a real cowboy, as his fingers played with Salim’s colt. “Nice gun ya have, pal. Where’ ya found it?”

“Someone offered it to me.”

Jason’s eyebrows wrinkled under curiosity. “Who? And where?”

“It is complicated.” The Iraqi answered as he watched the younger man examining the weapon from a closer look.

“It ain’t a damn explanation.” The bandit concluded as his ran two fingers on the barrel.

“You’ll have to deal with it, because it is truly far too complicated for you to understand.”

Without a warning, Jason violently pinned him against the closest tree. Salim was silenced by the shock until the other man placed his own colt against his throat. “Are ya implyin’ I’m dumb here?”

The older one could have excused himself, begged for mercy or spitted on the bandit’s face but once he regained the control over his body, he only shrugged his shoulders. “Let just say that you seem like the kind of man who shoots first an asks questions afterward.”

Jason considered his prejudice then nodded with humility: “Ain’t wron’ ‘bout that.”

They both stared at each other for a minute, before the bandit released his prisoner from his grip. Salim thanked him with a discreet gesture of the head, then took a better look at the place he was brought by.

The bandits established their camp on a magnificent prairie; a never-ending land of old fields, deserted by men. Trees were forming small forest from here and then, as a thin trail of river ran through the whole setting. It is... beautiful.

“Yer odd, no one ever told ya that?” The white man’s voice threw him out of his reveries. “I mean… ‘Got yer own gun pressed ‘gainst yer neck one second before and now yer enjoying the view, for real?”

The stunned tone Salim caught made him smile a little. “Since you will kill me, I will admire the setting… While I still can.”

Jason stared at him like he just saw the most beautiful horse ever before he recovered his stern composure; the one everyone thought of when it came to dangerous cowboys. “Ya may survive, if ya don’t act like a fuckin’ smartass, got it?”

A loud sigh escaped Salim’s mouth as the other forced him to sit on the ground. “Do you really need to say fucking this or fucking that so often?”

His eyes didn’t miss the subtle grin spreading on Jason’s lips as he tied him to the tree. “Ya’ll have to deal with it, ‘cause ‘s part of the character.”

And when he seemed pleased by the knots he made around the wood and his prisoner’s wrists, he straightened up, saluted Salim and disappeared behind the tent and the horses of his own men.

۩๑ ๑۩

Despite all the appearances, the bandits revealed a polite personality; well, for the most part. They swore like troopers, but except from this exhausting habit, they behave like good Samaritan. The only woman of the group, a young and masculine one named Clarice, treated the horses with an infinite respect. The second in command, a black and brawny man called Nick by the others, seemed as calm as romantic; from what Salim heard, he had an affair with the Sweetwater sheriff’s wife and wrote her many letters about his feelings. The others two, whom were physically diametrically opposed, never shut their mouths, and threw corny jokes at each other with a vivacity the Iraqi never encountered. Joey and Merwin, if he remembered their names correctly, surprised him as much as the rest of the bandits.

After all, Salim could have fell into the hands of far more worst people around here. But he guessed the city was still way too close, and so the men weren’t as bad as they could get deeper in the valleys. A relief for the prisoner, who never wanted to tempt the nastiest people of this place. Even if he couldn’t die, pleasure in the pain wasn’t part of his fantasy.

Silent and obedient, he watched the men walking from tent to tent, living and laughing at each other as they were old friends. Maybe they are, the Iraqi thought while he laid his head against the tree he was tied to. In their attitude, he recognized some of his own behavior toward Dar. They were friends since countless years now and knew almost everything about each other.

I wonder if he is worrying about me, or still enjoying the lady’s company in the saloon. Salim hoped he wouldn’t notice anything, for he knew that his boss wouldn’t shut up about it back at their office. His co-worker would become the man who was kidnapped like a damsel in distress in an “amusement park”. To be honest, the Iraqi didn’t mind it; he knew he made a mistake and had to live with the consequences of his miscalculations. However, if his colleagues couldn’t laugh about that for years, it would be… Amazing.

An annoyed sigh came out of his mouth while he closed his eyes.

And by the time he opened them again, Jason was sitting in front of him; his fingers still playing with the colt he stole from Salim before. “Let’s talk ‘bout ya a little, ‘kay?”

His sharp and dark eyes weren’t looking at him, but the Iraqi swore they only saw his face, only examined his expressions and his silences. “There is nothing interesting to say, you are wasting your time.”

The bandit’s raised his shoulders and replaced his hat with the barrel of the gun, as he finally drowned into Salim’s glare. “Let me be the judge of that, pal.”

Like I’ve got other choices, mumbled the prisoner under his breath.

“So… We’re yer from? Yer… kinda strange.”

“Says the man who randomly kidnapped people.” Salim spitted with a cold indifference, to which Jason amusedly answered: “Who told ya it was random?”

As the Iraqi’s eyebrows frowned, Jason’s lips stretched into a subtle and mysterious grin. Obviously, the bandit was playing with his captive’s nerves the same way he rolled his colt around his fingers. Sadly for him, little did he know that the older man was accustomed to this kind of game; you won’t fright me there, friend.

“So, I can add stalking to the list of your crimes.” He snapped at Jason, before an unsurprised giggle lightened his face. “I know I shouldn’t have expected anything more from you.”

Salim had barely said those words when he felt the weapon held by Jason against his forehead; evidently, the bandit didn’t like his quick response, or at least tried to scare him. “Yer a fuckin’ smartass, aren’t ya?”

“I am.” Answered the man without any fear in his eyes. He remained calm, almost relax while Jason scrutinized his features. “This can get ya kill, ya know?”

“What are you waiting for?” Tempted Salim as he pressed his forehead against the weapon, glare glued to the bandit’s one. “Shoot me.”

A tensed silence fell on the prairie as the two men gauged each other soul. Even the wind seemed to disappear, afraid of their mutism confrontation and of the consequences which were to come.

Was Jason able to shoot? Was he able to kill the man right there, right now? The nature held back its breath for seconds which felt like eternity, until the gun slowly withdrew to its holster.

“Ya’ll tell me what I want sooner of later, pal.” Jason abruptly assured. “But for now, ya should rest ‘cause I bet ya won’t like what’s to come.”

And so, the bandit vanished in the distance once again, leaving Salim alone with his thoughts, his doubts and the odd impression that his captor enjoyed his behavior more than he admitted. After all, didn’t the Iraqi caught the glimpse of a smile when he turned around to join the camp? The Iraqi sighed, shook his head when he noticed the sharp of a metal object at his feet. Is it…? He discreetly eyed at the camp, made sure no one was looking his way then extract the object of his fascination with his boots.

The tip of an arrow, what a pleasant gift God gave him.

Salim smiled before he pushed the object under him.

Now, he just had to wait for the perfect opportunity to escape. He closed his eyes, acted like nothing happened but his thoughts were already preparing a plan; one which could save him in time.

#fanfiction #writing #westworld au #jason kolchek #salim othman #jalim #dar basri #nick kay #clarice strokes #joey gomez #nathan merwin #Okay this is really getting out of hands #I'm just hoping you're gonna enjoy the trip #'Cause I'm enjoying it myself so much #The dialogues between Salim and Jason are so fun to write #Salim is such a king when it comes to comeback #dark pictures house of ashes #house of ashes

[msmarycrawley]

Fictober Day 11

Prompt: “Think! For once!”

Fandom: Westworld

Pairing: Hanaryo/Clementine Pennyfeather

Rating: Teen and Up

Summary: War between man and machine rages on, and Clementine and Hanaryo survive it together.

Ao3

Hanaryo finished up a perimeter sweep and went back to their house to find it empty.

Dammit. Did she go out again?

She couldn’t call Clementine without running the risk of being tracked, so all she could do was wait and hope she was okay. She bounced her leg anxiously as she sat down at the couch and counted the minutes for her return.

Finally, the front door opened and in walked her girlfriend. “Clem!” Hanaryo shot up. “Where were you?”

Clementine walked over to her with bags on her arm, her brows furrowed. “I was at the market. What’s wrong?”

Hanaryo huffed her indignance. “How many times have I told you not to go out without me? I was worried about you! It’s dangerous out there for hosts.” Clementine rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “Think! For once!” She continued.

That seemed to incense her. Clem glowered and inched closer to Hanaryo until their noses were almost touching. “Hasn’t it ever occurred to you that I have done my own risk assessment, and determined times that are safe to explore this land we now call home? And that I know which humans are suspicious and which aren’t? I won’t be attacked by old women at a stall!”

Now it was Hanaryo’s turn to avoid her girlfriend’s gaze. Clementine rarely ever raised her voice. “No.. I… no. You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“Well, I’m sorry too. I should have told you where I was going and when I would be back. Then you could’ve made a decision to come with me or not.”

Both hosts relaxed, and Clementine went to put her bags on the kitchen table. She grabbed an apple and threw it to Hanaryo, who caught it automatically. The brunette munched on it thoughtfully. “It’s good.”

“Yeah, I know.” Clem said, and they both made their way over to the couch.

“This constant surveillance… the constant threat of death…” Hanaryo muttered in Japanese.

“I know.” Clementine repeated, rubbing her back. “I know.”

#fictober22 #westworld #clementine x hanaryo #hanaryo #clementine pennyfeather #fanfiction #femslash

[ladypeaches4summerluv]

Polin with westworld vibes...

Westworld version of characters ..polin style????? Penelope keeps coming back to the park trying to be with Colin until finally she decides to try and stop the corporation. Some of the biridgertons arent real some are. Colin, Edmund, and hyacinth are all models in the park. The family paid to have built so they could visit with their missing loved ones.  what do we think polin peeps?

#bridgerton au #polin bridgerton #colin x penelope #colin bridgerton #penelope featherington #bridgerton family #westworld #mystery #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton fandom #i have too many story ideas #and never enough time or willpower