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eyes-talks-ocs · 2 years

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Whumptober '22

Day 2. Nowhere To Run

-cornered -caged

Character/Setting: Macaw from my project 'Social Throwaways'. Diving into details of his past.

TW?: physical abuse, drugged, kidnapped, minor whumpee (he's 11 when his life turned to hell).

Just a little deep dive into why Macaw is as screwed up as he is. He has not had an easy life.

@whumptober-archive

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(These are just drabble so it's rough writing. Sorry for any grammar or spelling mistakes!)

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"So. Do you have the boy?" Otto asked the man impatiently. Tapping the head of his cane like a typewriter.

"Sí, come down with me to the garage." The man waved for Otto to follow him.

Together they walked to the basement level of this warehouse. There was a car pulled through the doors of the underground loading dock. The unloading room lit by shotty fluorescent lights. The buzz mummed through the air with flickering from a ballast going out on a few of them. It irritated Otto to no end, but replacing the lights down here was near the bottom of his to do list. But he made the mental note to move it's place on the list. He'd be spending more and more time down here now that he had a new prize.

"I invested a good fortune into this. I better like what I see. Shitty flip phone pictures didn't impress me much. You guys couldn't do anything better? You could have gotten less grainy photos with a potato." Otto growled. "Out of the lot, he looked like the best one from what I could tell though." He sighed.

"I promise. The boy is good. Good quality." The man went to the trunk, holding the keys between his figures when suddenly he felt a rod of metal jammed between his shoulder blades. He heard the unmistakable click most people know to fear.

"This kid better speak English. I'm not going to play around with some broken English runt or something that can't even communicate with me. You guys were so helpful and never posted on the lot what origin anyone was." Otto dug the gun deeper into his back. Forcing him to buckle over the truck of the car.

"Ey, ey, ey! The kid speaks English. We've had him for a week before you bought him. He's literate, can read and write. We also got him vetted. He's healthy. We even gave him a round of vaccinations and a shot of antibiotics just for good measure and to make sure he's up to date on medical to ensure we're delivering a healthy product to our clients." The man said, winded as he was forced against the back of the car.

"Good." Otto rehomed the revolver and let the man stand straight. "Now get on with it. Show me the child."

The man collected himself, then unlocked and popped the trunk. Inside was a young boy. Bound at the wrists and ankles by zip ties. The clothes he wore didn't look like they were actually his. Baggy and trying to slip off his shoulder in his hunched position.

"He's sedated right now so he wouldn't cause a ruckus back here while we brought him over. He should be out of it for a bit. Shouldn't give you much trouble tonight." The man petted the kid's blonde hair.

Otto eyed, studying the lifeless kid in front of him. "How are his manners?"

The man hesitated for a brief moment to think. "He's still pretty shaken. He's panicky, but nothing too hard to deal with or correct. He calms down pretty okay."

"Well, I suppose he better get comfortable real quick. I don't like whining." Otto cocked his head. "Alrighty, bring him over here." Otto started walking away towards the other end of the warehouse floor. To a large maintenance closet that sat under the concrete stairs leading back up the fire escape.

He took out a ring of keys and unlocked the door. The other man lifted the kid out of the trunk and gently carried him over. Otto entered the room once the man caught up to him. He pulled the string for the light for the dusty room.

It looked like it was recently cleaned out, but not really cleaned spotless. Just enough to make it presentable. The now empty shelving had cobwebs and where things once sat, left their vacant shadows in the thick dust. What looked like a large dog bed was on the floor in the center of the narrow long room. A blanket sat folded on it.

"Put him down here." Otto said and tapped the dog bed with his cane.

The man nodded and rested the boy on it. He was surprised to see that the bed was actually new, and not once used by a mangy mutt. The child stirred a bit as he felt the arms and body set him down.

So foggy. He tried to will himself awake, but his eyes were just too heavy. He could hear muffled voices. One he recognized. The Hispanic man that had been his company for the past few days, but the other sounded so foreign to him.

Otto walked over to the boy, holding a chain. One that was connected to a wire cable tied to the radiator at the back of the room. He knelt and snaked the chain around the neck of the child on the floor. He cinched it tight, just loose enough to get a single finger through, then locked the links together with a padlock. With a good yank on the cable to make sure it was snug. He drew a knife then cut the zip ties holding the kid's feet together. But he kept the ones restraining the kid's wrists.

"That ought to do it for now." Otto said to himself. Pleased. "I'm satisfied so far. You can leave now." Otto said back up at the man.

"Alright. It was a pleasure doing business." He bowed his head in respect then proceeded to leave Otto with his new toy.

Otto watched the boy lay there, stirring every so often. He decided to see if the boy would wake. He was inpatient in wanting to meet his investment.

He sat down and propped the child up, shaking him a bit and holding him steady sitting up. The boy seemed to resist the jostling and pushed back a little, irritated to be bothered like that.

"C'mon boy. Wake up." Otto said quietly as he continued to try and get him to open his eyes consciously.

Finally he did. Groggy, he looked around and scanned the room. Still really out of it and barely understanding what was going on around him. His surroundings were new, but no less better than what he had been in. Except here was quiet. No chattering. No shouting. No screaming. "What's going on?" He asked. His voice almost inaudible, but panic was starting to boil as he started looking around the room more frantically.

"You're new home." Otto replied next to the kid. The kid jumped to the side at Otto's presence. Instantly jerking the chain placed around his neck. He stared into Otto's face as he clawed at the new collar with his bound hands.

Then, he just started crying. Terrified of what was happening. "Where's Raúl?" Were the only words he could muster.

Otto sighed, "you won't be seeing him again, he was only taking care of you for the time being. Now hush. It's going to be alright."

He shook his head and just started clawing at the chain again, getting more and more riled up the more he started panicking. He was thrown in yet another new place with new people. He didn't even remember getting here, or how he got here. Everything was still thick like honey as he tried to make sense of the situation with missing details. One part of him was trying to tell him to go back to sleep, the other telling him to try and run or fight. "I wanna go home. I want my mom" The kid breathed through his sobbing.

"This is your home now. It might seem scary right now, but trust me. You're in some of the safest hands here. As long as you listen and behave. I'll be able to give you more than your mother ever could." Otto tried reassuring the scared boy.

But he didn't quite buy it, he just sat there trembling, still trying to make sense of it all.

"What's your name? Mine's Otto." The man asked. Trying to make small talk to calm him down.

The child eyed him. Everything in him told him not to give the man his name. He just sat there thinking it over. What he should do, what he shouldn't do. Before he could think any longer the words left his mouth, "Dustin. My name is Dustin."

"It's nice to finally meet you." Otto said, then took out his knife once more.

Dustin froze at the sight of it as Otto brought it towards him. His only reaction was to close his eyes, cower and brace for what was going to happen.

Otto took the boy's hands from him, and cut the final zip ties. Freeing his hands as a reward. "Lay back down and get some rest." Otto stood up. "You've had an eventful day."

0 notes

hes-writer · 3 years

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deja vu

Summary: part two of drivers license!

Warning: angst

Word Count: 1643 words

let me know if you liked it!

_____

If this was a movie, Y/N would’ve collapsed on the floor, knees hitting the ground as her legs lost the ability to keep her weight up. The corners of her lips would tilt downwards as a fusion of sadness and nostalgia bombarded her at every corner. Tears would collect at her waterline, waiting for the remarkable blink that would send each drop of salty liquid down the apples of her cheeks. Y/N imagined she would call Harry on her phone and scream at him as soon as the click sounded, signalling that he had picked up the call.

Yet as seconds passed by, none of those theatrical episodes happened. Unlike in the movies, Y/N’s physical reactions were minuscule. Her heart ached in her chest. Her throat scrunched like a wad of tissue papers in her hand, drying up with shock and the shallow inhales she let out. The swirling of her stomach increased tenfold as she teetered between feelings of anger and indifference. This should not affect her anymore--or should it? It had barely been a few months since she last saw him and a little bit after when the first photos of Harry and his girlfriend went viral on the internet.

Everyone, especially him, seemed to move on from the relationship that they had shared. Y/N felt like she needed to catch up to him, racing to throw away the feelings she still held for him and to pretend as though nothing happened. But it was easier said than done. There were still endless memories that replayed through her head every time she passed by an ice cream shop. It was a hidden gem, past the popular hot spots. Not a lot of people knew about it because of its distanced location. And as much as Harry was a certified health nut; his guilty pleasure was a scoop of strawberry ice cream--in a cup instead of a waffle cone, of course.

Y/N still remembered those drives-turned-beach-trips. It was mostly during his days off. She and Harry would spend the whole day together, sharing one spoon amongst each other while they passed the cup of ice cream back and forth. The sound of the ocean encompassed them as they lay hidden around an alcove of rocks. It was a secluded area of the beach that Y/N had found way before. The sand was grainy beneath the layer of a checkered picnic blanket that Harry kept at the trunk of his car, their bodies laying on top of it. Eventually, Harry would proceed to just spoon-feed her, ‘accidentally’ nudging her nose with the cold treat.

Y/N could feel her shoulders slump at the flashback, body sagging as she sighed at what her phone screen was reflecting back to her. It was her Instagram feed showcasing Harry’s profile. A picture of a haunting landscape was captured by his phone lens; it was the very same beach spot that she had taken him to. Deja vu.

She bit her lip, wanting to smile about how he still visited it even without her. It showed that Harry still kept a memory of her at the back of his mind. Y/N’s heart fluttered at the thought, a sliver of hope shining through the dimness of her days. But it was impossible to keep an optimistic stance when she saw the caption. A simple tag of his new girlfriend’s Instagram handle puckered her lips into a sour expression, brows pinching together in curiosity as Y/N continuously denied the obvious constituent of events.

“There’s no way,” She muttered, breath hitching as Y/N’s thumb hesitated on tapping the bolded font.

There was absolutely no way that Harry would bring someone else in such a coveted spot. It was hers; she found it first and now he was acting as though it did not hold any meaning to her. Not like Y/N didn’t spend the last few days laying on his lap, watching the sunset over the horizon. Harry’s fingers would comb through her tendrils, tucking his jacket tighter around her chin to ensure that she was warm despite him being covered in goosebumps himself. Y/N would look up to see the beginning stubbles of his facial hair as Harry looked ahead, his green eyes mirroring the artistic hues of orange, pink and purple.

“What’s up, Y/N?” Jenny asked, returning from her short trek to Y/N’s small kitchen. One hand was carrying a large bowl of chips while the other held two cans of soda.

Y/N stared at her friend with hesitance. Was it worth bringing it up? She must be sick of her talking about him all the time.

“He brought her to our place,”

It was harder to hear it out loud. She didn’t even recognize her own voice; void of emotion except for a strained sound of pain.

Jenny tilted her head to the side, “Who did?”

“Harry. . .” Y/N cleared her throat before continuing, “There was this place I found in Malibu. At a beach. It’s pretty hidden and I used to go there by myself whenever I needed to think. I took him there. It was our place, you know? Somewhere only the two of us knew and I don’t know,” She trailed off.

“You thought he would keep it between you guys,” Jenny finished off, nodding her head in empathic comprehension.

“Yeah, it just sucks,” Y/N furrowed her brows, staring at the space in front of her as she took in the gravity of the situation. “He even took her to D’Campos,”

“The ice-cream shop?”

She nodded, “It was on her Instagram story today,”

“Forget about him, Y/N. He doesn’t deserve your tears,”

“I’m not even crying,” She chuckled, slapping Jenny’s arm jokingly.

“You look like you’re about to,”

Y/N sighed, “It hurts. Feels like he’s everywhere. Just when I thought I was moving on, he pulls shit like this and I’m forced to remember how good it was between us, you know? I haven’t driven past D’Campos or anywhere else that I might see him because it hurts too much to reminisce what I don’t have anymore.”

It was ridiculous how much Y/N has had to change her routine in order not to feel any more pain. She actively avoided places where Harry frequented in fear of confrontation and also because he might be with his girlfriend. She didn’t know how she could stay stoic seeing their hands clasped together, gazing at each other lovingly when Y/N wanted that from him for herself.

“You’re doing just fine, honey. Do you know who can’t move on? Him.”

“I’m pretty sure he’s doing fine,” Y/N said sarcastically, resting her back on the couch. “Better, even.”

“Uh, I don’t think so,” Jenny argued, “Out of the two of you, who’s the one always going to the places you shared?”

Y/N opened her mouth to answer but a swift hand in the air caused her to halt.

“It’s him, right?” Jenny answered rhetorically. “I do not care what you say; that man misses you and it shows. Harry’s going to where he expects you to be, probably in hopes of running into you. Maybe even because he wants to relive the moments you shared together with her in hopes of him feeling the same way he felt like when he did with you,”

“T-that’s insane. He’s fine without me,” Y/N stuttered out, crossing her arms over her chest in defiance.

“First of all, you are in denial. Secondly, you cannot tell me that he doesn’t. He’s practically doing everything you guys used to do with this new girl. Why? Because he fucking misses you, Y/N. Hell, you’ve even got the same name.”

“It’s just a coincidence,”

“My ass,” Jenny scoffs, “Answer me something, do you still remember how it felt being there with him?”

Y/N nodded, “Always,”

“Describe it to me,”

Y/N squinted her eyes in suspicion. Where was Jenny going with this?

“Uh, as cheesy as it sounds, I felt happy and free. I could talk about anything without being judged. He had a way of making me feel comfortable without even saying anything. When we were together--wherever we were--I could be vulnerable about myself in front of him,”

“Would you do whatever it takes to feel that same way again?”

In a heartbeat, Y/N stated, “Without a doubt.”

“Tell me, if Harry asked you to meet him there right now, would you go?”

Y/N’s breath hitched as she took a moment to process the question. She had just said that she would do whatever it takes to feel the same unconfined emotion again. So why was she saying ‘no’?

“I-I wouldn’t,”

“Exactly,” Jenny concluded with a quirk of her brow.

“You’re gonna have to explain,”

“Gladly,” Her friend quipped. “You want to feel liberated, vulnerable, and honest again but not necessarily with Harry. That place meant a lot to you--sure. But it doesn’t matter. What counts is who you are with. Who’s giving you that type of comfortability that you’re able to be just yourself around them. Do you understand?”

Y/N leaned forward in interest.

“You are well aware of that but you won’t accept it. You won’t go with him because you know that it won’t be the same anymore. That’s the first step of moving on. Once you acknowledge that as much as you miss him, as much as you think you want him to be around, you know better than that. He’s changed and so have you. He’s searching for that same feeling by going back to the places that you used to go to. Thinks he will find it there but--,”

“He won’t.” Y/N finished off. “Because she is not me,”

___

#harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry styles writing #harry styles angst #deja vu #sour #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles fanfic

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missymurphy1985 · 3 years

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Friends with Added Benefits (part 5)

Warnings - smut / pregnancy (this one got kinda long haha)

Taglist @queenshelby @margoo0 @being-worthy @peakyscillian @ntmynouis @janelongxox @elenavampire21 @noctvrnalmoth @ysmmsy @cloudofdisney @lauren-raines-x @namelesslosers @misscarolineshelby @screemqueen

Paul had been true to his word - he had even been an alibi for Cillian when suspicions had been raised - Cillian had fallen asleep in your hotel room one night and no one knew where he was the following morning. Paul had said he'd slept in his room that night after a few too many whiskeys.

Filming was coming to an end soon - you'd only got a week to go before it was wrapped. You hit the 12 week mark a few days earlier, and a slight bump had definitely appeared across your lower abdomen now. You had butterflies every time your fingers crossed it. You'd had your scan the day before and you and Sophie were sat looking at the photo in the canteen.

"That's it's nose I think.. and I think that's a leg. Could be an arm..." You were grinning from ear to ear, Sophie was beaming too.

"What's got you two grinning like Cheshire Cats?" Cillian's voice called over from the coffee station.

"Y/n's 12 week scan photo!! Come see!" Sophie waved it at him, and you definitely saw his face change. The smile had gone, and he cleared his throat, before making his way over.

"Soph he doesn't want to see it, it's just a grainy photo, men aren't bothered by this stuff..." You protested, but Cillian had already taken the picture and was looking at it.

"And everything is okay y/n?"

"All fine - perfect in fact."

"Good.. that's good." He looked at the photo again and handed it back to you, squeezing your shoulder slightly before walking away.

Sophie was called over to makeup, leaving you with your thoughts. You didn't want him to see that photo - he wasn't supposed to see it.

Putting the photo back in your bag, you made your way to his trailer. He'd been acting weird this last week - you'd been in his room the night before and he'd made you leave your t shirt on.. not what you expected from someone with a self professed pregnancy kink.

You didn't even knock, just let yourself in. He wasn't there, strangely, you were certain he headed this way.. turning round to head back out you spotted two boxes on the side. Pregnacare vitamins.. what was he doing with those? Beside them was a carrier bag... More vitamins, a hot water bottle, slippers, and a small baby blanket, baby vests, babygros, even a teddy bear... the trailer door opened and he was suddenly in front of you, glancing between you and the bag.

"We wrap next week, it was just a few things I picked up in town yesterday..." He took the bag from you and you couldn't help but smile.

"You didn't have to do that Cillian.."

"No I know, but I wanted to." He took his beanie hat off and placed it on the table, sitting himself on the sofa. You sat across from him on the other side.

"Are you okay Cill?"

"What? Yeah, yeah I'm fine. Are you?"

"Yes. Listen we haven't really ironed out the details of this, um, arrangement..."

"Details?"

"The legal side.. I can speak to my solicitor when I get home, make sure we're both covered? You know, the parental rights thing?"

"Oh.. yeah, just, um, just let me know what I need to do..."

"Cillian are you really okay?"

"I'm fine!" He snapped, making you jump. You stood abruptly, he'd never raised his voice to you before. His eyes cast towards the small bump under your tight t-shirt and his head fell. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry..."

"The fuck is going on Cillian?"

"I can't do this.. seeing you grow.. your body change.. it isn't doing what I expected it to do.. it isn't a turn on y/n.." his words stung, and you turned to leave, tears threatening to erupt. He grabbed your arm to stop you.

"It's not turning me on - it's making me fall."

"Fall?"

"That's my baby in there y/n.." his hand fell onto your belly, the first time he'd touched you there, he'd always avoided it, and your heart jumped.

"Cillian you said - "

"I know what I said. But that was until you showed me the positive pregnancy test. I swallowed it down, put it down to shock.. but then your body changed.. and that scan photo today... It isn't shock y/n, it's complete and utter admiration. For you."

"Cillian what are you saying?"

"I'm saying.. I want this baby. Our baby.." his hand never moved, staying on your slightly swollen bump, eyes burning into yours.

"You told me you didn't want to be involved, you didn't want a relationship, you didn't want to be tied down? This is going against everything you said and everything we agreed..."

"You think any of this is easy for me? You're having my baby and I'm not gonna be a part of his life! That's my child you're carrying..."

"Cillian..."

"You don't want me, and that's fine I'm not asking that of you, but let me be a part of his life? Please?"

"Who said I didn't want you?" He looked at you confused.

"You said -"

"We both clearly said a lot of things we didn't actually mean, didn't we?"

"You want me?"

"I think I do, yeah.."

"You think?"

"We've only ever seen each other during filming.. we have no idea how we'd actually get on outside of this set and the hotel room?"

"We can change that."

"How? I live in London, you're in Dublin..."

"It's doable y/n. We owe it to this little one to try, right?"

"We've got 6 months before the baby arrives Cillian, how the hell is this going to work?"

"Move in with me."

"In Dublin?!"

"In London. I've been looking at houses."

"I can't ask you to leave Dublin, you love Ireland..."

"Then move to Dublin?"

"What? Cillian this is crazy..."

"Come to me for three months. Move in with me, let me be there for you both. Three months, if it works we decide then what we do. If it doesn't.. well we'll cross that bridge if it comes to it. What do you say?"

"My doctors are here, my midwife..."

"Then I'll move in with you. Give me three months - that's all I'm asking?"

"What do we tell people?"

"The truth. The baby is mine. Either way, no matter how it goes with you and me, I want to be a Dad to him."

"You keep saying him..."

"Gut feeling. It's a boy. Even bought a blue blanket, see?" He held up the baby blue blanket.

"See now I think it's a girl! I bought a pink one on Amazon last week," you smiled. He cupped your face in his hands and rested his forehead on yours.

"Tell me you don't want me and I'll accept it y/n."

"I want you, I do... I'm scared of how people will react that's all.."

"Only one way to find out isn't there?"

"When?"

"Tonight, after dinner. We announce it then. I'll do it if you don't want to?" You nodded. Your eyes watering. "Don't cry on me, you'll set me off..."

"You? Crying?" You smirked.

"What can I say y/n, you've broken me." He kissed you, a different kiss than any he'd given you before. Deeper, more loving, gentler. At first anyway.. it soon became hungrier, your bodies pressing together as your clothes were removed. He paused before lifting your t shirt over your head, his eyes moving down as he lifted it up. It was one thing feeling it, but now he could see it his breath caught in his throat. He dropped to his knees, his lips pressed against your stomach, kissing it lightly.

"Okay I lied..."

"About what?"

"Fuck, I need you.. and now..." He moved over to his trailer door and locked it, before lifting your now naked body onto the counter. You'd only ever had him in the hotel room, this was way riskier - there were other crew and cast members walking around outside but neither of you cared. You cared even less when he dipped down and placed kisses along your inner thighs, opening your legs as wide as he could before drawing his tongue up your slit, your hands gripping his hair.

"You need to be quiet y/n.. you can do that yeah?" You nodded, biting your lip to stop your moans as he buried his mouth against your core, his tongue rolling against your sensitive clit sending you into overdrive. You couldn't help but rock your hips against him, your orgasm building quickly. You had to cover your mouth to stop yourself from screaming as you came over his lips, your free hand gripping the side of the table. He chuckled as you caught your breath, before lining himself up and pushing in slowly.

"That was quick, even for you..." He whispered in your ear as he filled you completely, setting a steady pace.

"You feel so good inside me Cillian..." He groaned gently into your neck, carefully thrusting so as not to generate too much sound or movement in the trailer. He lifted your knees as high as they could go, as he leaned back slightly, both of you looked down, watching his cock move in and out. He brought his hand between you and started to rub your clit with his thumb, bringing his other hand over your mouth to muffle your groans. His breathing deepened as he picked up the pace a little, your walls clenching around him as a second orgasm took over.

"I'm gonna..." he thrust hard twice before spilling inside with a gentle groan, resting his head against yours, catching his breath.

"I'm gonna get to do that every day.." he whispered, circling his nose against yours.

"Yes you are... are you sure about this?"

"I've never been more certain of anything in my life."

#cillian smut #cillian murphy #cillian x fem!reader #cillian x pregnant reader

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the-huntress · 3 years

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Little Moth - Chapter 1 - The Beginning Is The End Is The Beginning

[Hi guys, welcome to my fanfiction. This is a Resident Evil inspired fanfiction, I wanted to incorporate a number of my favourite characters, and especially our beloved Magnet Daddy. Slow burn, soft smut impending, beyond that who knows… But to be safe I will say that this is for 18+ years of age only. Let me know if you’d liked to be on a tag list for future chapters. Masterlist is pinned. Thank you to everyone that has read so far. <3]

Masterlist

Trigger Warnings: Mention of menstruation, swearing.

Y/N Protagonist, female. Reader X Karl Heisenberg [18+]

Summary:

Your lifelong friend, Leon Kennedy, has mysteriously gone missing two years after the events of Racoon City. You make a discovery that could lead to his whereabouts; dare you enter the Village?

[Photos are my own] You weren’t sure exactly what you were looking at for a moment, arching your back forwards over the desk in the dimly lit room, the glare from the laptop the only source of light. Several windows had been left open on the screen, and despite the turmoil that Leon’s apartment had been left in, this was what had really grabbed your attention.

The most notable of which was a photo, the resolution was grainy, a scan from a black and white film photo, it looked almost like a foetus, but you couldn’t be sure. Was somebody pregnant? It was almost akin to the sort of photograph that expecting parents would show at a baby shower, but this was… different. You had a feeling of impending doom just by looking at this thing.

Next, another very grainy photo of a town, it almost looked like some of the places from back home in England; a church steeple, a castle or maybe a mansion in the distance? A quaint looking village in the snow. And lastly, a very cryptic email;

10/10/2000

Leon,

Know not what I have done, but what I believe must be done now.

Half of the results of good intentions are evil; half of the results of an evil intention are good.

You have the information that you need, please make haste.

A friend.

Well, that’s ambiguous as fuck. You thought to yourself, pushing the chair back and pulling the lighter from the little band on the side of your cap. You reached to your shoulder and cursed. That’s right, you’d given up, “for health reasons”. Putting the lighter back you reached instead for your camera, a notepad and a pen. You’d been tempted to just take the laptop and the scattered papers, but after several years in the police you knew it was beneficial to leave things as they were. Your eyes flitted from paper to paper, taking notes of numbers, flights, times, place names, anything that you could until you’d filled a couple of pages. One page for practical info, and one page, now that you looked at it almost sounded like a fairy tale;

A village, four kings, four lords, and a mysterious ‘Mother Miranda’. You bit the end of the pen and pondered. It was like nothing you’d ever heard of before, what had he got himself into…

Several days ago you had received a text from the man himself;

‘Y/N I am going to be out of

town for a while, something has

come up. Please don’t worry,

will explain soon. Leon. X

P.S. I’ve left Timesplitters in

your mail box, play you again

when I get back! :] ’

And now here you were. You scoffed knowing he’d have had to pay double to send that one, but he was mad to think that you wouldn’t worry, he was like a brother to you, hell, the only family that you had. After a childhood growing up in rural England you had moved to the states with your father and stepmother when you were in those vulnerable years of your teens during the early 90s, but were lucky enough to have met Leon in school. The two of you had become best friends quickly, and even graduated from the same police academy. It was Leon that saved your butt two years ago when all hell broke loose in Racoon City, him and Claire.

You shifted on the collapsible chair in front of the usually neatly tidied desk which was now strewn with various papers and articles. Your thoughts of Claire continued, and you pulled out your Nokia, opened a message and then faltered. It was late. Later than late you realised, seeing the time; 02:08 AM. What am I doing? You didn’t want to wake her, so you put the phone back into the pocket on your belt.

You swept a strand of your hair behind your ear, the outgrown bangs jumping back in the way and you blew at them irritated. You heard a grumble and moaned, looking down at your stomach. Padding across the shiny, tiled floor you left the desk and headed to the kitchen, opening the fridge where you knew there would be left-over pizza. Sure, it was from over a week ago when you were last here hanging out, but hey, it’s pizza, right?

‘Ugh dude, always with the anchovies, why?’ you mumbled, flinging a small fish into the bin and mentally backhanding the back of Leon’s head. Of course, it was his side of the pizza that was left over, probably trying to stay in shape in case he bumped into ‘Ada’ again. You weren’t keen, but then, you didn’t trust her. You looked at your phone again, left on the desk besides the laptop, Leon would be much better off with Claire, but sadly you felt perhaps that ship had set sail long ago.

You went to sit yourself back down at the desk. CRUNCH “Shit!” Your eyes darted to your right knee. “Fuck… you’re not giving me a break are you.” Letting out a sigh you closed your eyes for a moment. Since you were a child your knee had given you problems. A few dislocations, hospital visits, insteps, braces and physiotherapy. You’d had to grit your teeth hard through every physical training session during academy, but you’d made it. Fortunately for you it wasn’t something that many people would be able to notice or spot. You could run for miles with no problem; it was the recovery time in the days that followed that was tough. You knew it was getting worse, and had been reading about how much longer you might have before you’d need a full replacement, but you knew that it could jeopardise your job, you knew you’d likely not get put on the jobs that you wanted, and the thought of being put into the office answering calls made your heart sink.

And then you spotted it, the corner of another window was sticking out from under the others, exposing the corner of a third photograph. Instantly recognising the symbol you felt as though you were falling.

“What…”

Dragging the window and clicking it to full screen you could see this photograph clearly; some kind of mural, was it in stone? It looked as though there were four crests, family crests maybe. And at the centre; “Umbrella.” You breathed. You stared at it for several minutes and quickly took a photo of the screen on your camera, no point trying to get that old thing to work, you thought, looking at the printer at the other end of the desk. You couldn’t help but smirk, memories of Leon trying to print page after page of game walk throughs, whilst trying to find all the secrets in your favourite action/ adventure game, and laughing your head off at him, mouthful of noodles spilling back out into the carton as a hundred pages shot out at him, flying all over the room with cheat codes for a scantily dressed version of the playable character.

You looked at the clock again, time to go. If you were going to do this, you needed sleep and to get going as soon as you could the next day. It might drain your bank account, but it would be worth it. You didn’t have a good feeling about any of this, and more often than not, your gut instincts were right. Grabbing your R.P.D jacket at the door, you took one last glance at the room. It really did look like a whirlwind had hit it, not like Leon when he was in a better mental state at all. You knew that when he wasn’t his best he’d reach a for a drink and then some, but you could see that nothing was broken, and it was mostly clothes scattered, some bits of equipment and where he’d clearly got the luggage bag down from on top of the wardrobe. Nothing to worry about in regard to kidnap or a break in at least; as if that was enough to stop you from worrying about whatever lay ahead in this ‘Village’.

It started to rain just as you got into your apartment building, and you smiled. You’d always liked the rain. Stopping to quickly check your pigeon-hole for mail and seeing nothing you felt something press up against you calf, rubbing itself against the tops of your boots. You looked down and grinned, scooping up a slender, black cat in one hand and kissing the top of her head. “I’m going to miss you Boo, keep an eye on my mail for me while I’m gone, you know how crammed that thing gets.” You winked at her as you set her back down outside Mrs. Little’s door and fished a sandwich bag full of the leftover pizza anchovies out of your R.P.D. bag. “You didn’t think I’d forget you, did you?” Leaving Boo hastily munching into her treats you jogged up the stairs, your knee twinged, but it wasn’t too bad. It just had its moments.

Your apartment was pretty standard for this part of the city; both you and Leon had left Racoon city some time ago, though it wasn’t far from here. It had been destroyed and bordered off and that was all there was too it. You had to tell it to yourself that way to cope. Leon’s apartment was slightly swankier, but then again, he did like his gadgets and liked to keep things tidy, when his thoughts weren’t somewhere else. You on the other hand were happy to know that while everything had its place, sometimes that place would be on the floor… next to the thingy and nestled safely under a cereal box; and that was okay! You picked up the thingy, and looked at it fondly, before folding it up and putting it away with the others.

Stretching and yawning you looked around you, making a mental note of what needed to be done; pack, shower, sleep. You’d get the tickets the next day, and some money too, you’d have to stop off at the currency exchange. What currency did they even use there? Equipment, keep it simple; knives, pistol, rounds, lighter, fluid, compass, torch, camera, medi-kit. A couple of spare pairs of clothes, and you had your light armour that also fit into the case. You knew the contents would raise suspicion, but you had your badge, at the end of the day another cop had gone missing, and your team knew too.

You whipped off the remainder of your uniform and jumped in the shower, the bathroom filling up with steam and bubbles quickly and you sang along to a few songs on the radio. Wiping the mirror to see yourself more clearly you felt all your insecurities flood to you at once, as well as seeing yourself for the natural beauty that you were. You pursed your lips, staring into your own eyes and promised you’d find him safe and bring him back. He’d yell at you for going in the first place, but you knew this wasn’t right. Something wasn’t right. Traipsing out from the bathroom, you felt the cool air attack your flushed skin. You liked it, you were always a window open kind of person, no matter the weather, the fresh air just soothed you. Of course, that meant the odd moth now and again, like now as you heard the tiny body plummet time and time again against the spherical glass shade of the dim lamp besides your bed. Snuggling up into the loose blankets you smiled at the little creature and pulled the cord on the lamp, smiling again as you felt the moth settle on the side of your head.

After that you actually fell to sleep very quickly. It had been a long day after all; a 6AM start, patrol, arresting some juvies for petty crimes, followed by yet another zombie scare, (false alarm thank God), before filing up all the paper work and heading to Leon’s. Sleep fell like a veil of cool clouds, taking you in and raising you up into the inky blue skies of the night. The next thing you knew, you were butt naked in a dark green forest, dew drops shining on moss like a trillion tiny emeralds. Mist hung thick in the air, and thousands of tiny moths flew up from the ground? No. From you. You were raising your arms up to the skies, the moss covered forest floor moist under your bare feet and between your toes. Behind you the silhouette of a deer… antlers, but much, much taller. In front of you a pair of cold silver-gold eyes in the dark. You felt drawn, ever so drawn, taking one step forward, and then another, your arms coming down now, hands outstretched in caring caress, your heart swelled, your lips bloomed, taking in a short breath, and then; blood. Gushes of it, soaking into the moss, reddening Earth’s green carpet, and dripping down the trunks of the trees, the moths falling from the air around you, their wings sticking and stopping in the thick, red mess.

“Shit!” You fell back down onto your bed, several items around you also crashing down. Hand to your head, you looked wildly about. It happened again. Whatever had fallen this time had been heavy. You turned to see half the cutlery that had been lying on the kitchen tops now on the floor, and the knives and pistol that you’d placed earlier on top of the luggage bag were now in the middle of the floor. A sudden feeling of loneliness washed over you. The same dream, but longer, and this time with blood. “Shit” again, you put a hand to your pants, pulled the covers back and saw red. “Well, that’s one more thing I need to bring with me.” You mumbled, rolling your eyes, and throwing yourself back onto the bed.

Song Suggestion: ‘The Beginning Is The End Is The Beginning’ by The Smashing Pumpkins

#resident evil #resident evil fanfic #resident evil smut #resident evil 8 #resident evil 2 #resident evil village #leon kennedy #Karl Heisenberg #mother miranda #resident evil heisenberg #karl heisenberg fanfic #karl heisenberg fluff

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silhouetteofacedar · 3 years

Text

Fox Mulder, Closet Romantic Ch. 4: Man Pouts on Couch

Previous Chapter - AO3 - MSR, rated E

Mulder is not feeling lucky.

In hindsight, he should have suspected something was off today; Scully kept looking at her watch.

It’s Friday, March 13th, and he thought it’d be cute to invite Scully out for a drink again, make a little joke about it becoming a Friday the 13th tradition. This could work, he thinks. His plan is simple; ask her out every once in a while, for some reason or another, with the intention of eventually coming clean and setting up a proper date.

At five o’clock he stands up and stretches with performative nonchalance. “Buy you a drink, Scully?” he asks, cocking his head towards the calendar pinned to the office wall, surrounded by newspaper clippings and grainy photos.

She pauses with her arm halfway into the sleeve of her coat. “I…” She falters and presses her lips together, looking suddenly guilty.

“What is it?” he asks quietly, a pit growing in his stomach.

“I’d love to, Mulder, but I actually have a date tonight.”

The earth stops spinning and Mulder is thrown off balance, hurtling through the atmosphere.

“Oh,” he says softly. “That doctor guy?”

Scully nods, not meeting his gaze. “His name is Mark,” she says. “We’re getting sushi.” She looks up at him then, big blue eyes soft. “A rain check?” she asks hopefully.

She owns him; one look like that and he’d sell his soul to buy her a cup of shitty coffee. “Sure. Another time, then,” Mulder says, gathering up every scrap of composure he has left, patching together a smile for her. “Have fun.”

He goes home and throws himself face down onto the couch.

She has a date. A real date, with a presumably mentally stable human man with a high-value job. And a daughter. A ready-made family, just add water and stir. This Mark guy probably calls her Dana, asks her how her mother’s doing, feeds her bits of sashimi with no threat of aliens or shadow governments in sight. Maybe he’ll kiss her at the end of the night, softly with closed lips like a gentleman.

What stings the most is the fact that this Doctor Mark had the balls to tell Scully outright that he’s interested in her romantically, something Mulder has yet to do.

Mulder knows he should eat, but his stomach is churning and the idea of food sickens him. He’s being dramatic and irrational; it’s just one date. But the implications are weighty, the potential enormous.

He feels bad for being upset. This is good for her; she needs to get out of the basement, connect with other rational people, find some normalcy and balance in her life.

You need those things too, he hears her say in his head.

He brushes it aside. It’s different for him; he created this life for himself. He’s a collapsed star, a black hole of conspiracy and paranoia that sucks in everything that gets too close. The last thing he wants is for her to get lost in his darkness, swallowed by the void like some interstellar debris.

She’d told him that night in Rock Creek Park that she does’t blame him for what’s happened to her, but that doesn’t assuage his guilt. He carries the weight of what she calls her choices, a load she has no intention of sharing with him, awaiting no acknowledgement or thanks.

He’s doing it to himself.

Mulder whiles away the hours on the couch, gazing up at the constellations of pencil marks on his ceiling, tossing his basketball above his head. He drops it on his face twice.

He knows it’s probably only going to make him feel worse, but he’s a glutton for punishment; so at eleven-thirty that night he picks up the phone and calls Scully.

He waits for her to answer, his heart sinking lower with each ring. She’s not picking up. Is she still out? he thinks anxiously. The guy has a kid, so it’s unlikely that they’d stay out too late unless he’s arranged it with his babysitter…

“Hello?” Scully’s slightly husky voice cuts through his thoughts.

“Scully,” he says, tentative relief creeping into his body.

“Mulder, what is it?” she asks. “It’s late. For normal people, anyway. Are you alright?”

“‘M’ fine,” he assures he. “Just couldn’t sleep.”

He hears her hum in understanding. Late night phone calls between them aren’t uncommon, after all. “Have you tried counting sheep?” she asks, not unkindly. “Or slowing your breathing down, focusing on the cadence of inhales and exhales like I showed you?”

He’s wide awake, sitting upright on his couch, still in the slacks and wrinkled button-down he wore to the office that day. “Yes,” he lies. “It’s not helping. There’s too much going on in my head right now.”

“You work too much,” she says gently. “And yet not enough, when deadlines are involved. We’ve got an impressive paperwork backlog-”

“Can we not talk about work right now?” He reaches down and unties his shoes. “Otherwise I’ll never get to sleep.”

“Right.” There’s rustling on her end. She’s in bed, he realizes.

“Did I wake you, Scully?” he asks, trying to hide his surprise.

“It’s fine, Mulder, I was only dozing,” she replies.

“Oh, how was the date?” he asks, as though it only just occurred to him, instead of being the only thing he’s thought about all night.

“It was nice,” she responds, and he drops his head onto the back of the couch in defeat. Shit. Shit shit shit shit-

“We talked about medicine, about cancer, loss. His daughter’s name is Amanda,” she continues. “Her mother - his wife - died when Mandy was only two, so he’s mostly raised her alone.”

“That’s rough,” Mulder says softly. Please don’t make me feel bad for this guy, Scully, I can’t bear it, he thinks.

“Mhm,” she agrees. “And his work at the hospital is pretty grueling, so his mother helps out a lot. I… I told him about Emily.”

“How’d that go?” Mulder asks, concerned. “It’s not the most… plausible-sounding story.”

“I was vague,” she replies. “All I really said was that I had recently reconnected with a child I’d been separated from, right before she died. He didn’t ask for details; he could probably tell it was a fresh wound.”

They’re silent for a moment.

“Do you think you’ll see him again?” Mulder asks quietly. Somehow he already knows what she’s going to say, and he braces himself for the sting of her words as they pierce his heart.

“I… I think I will,” Scully says, sounding distant. “I mean, it’s worth a shot, right?”

She deserves this. She deserves a chance at something ordinary, safe, comfortable.

“Maggie Scully didn’t raise a quitter,” he says with a watery smile she’ll never see.

She chuckles. “No, I suppose she didn’t,” Scully muses. He hears her yawn. “I’m tired out, Mulder. Think you can sleep now?”

“I’ll try,” he says. He’s surprised to feel his eyes beginning to burn with unshed tears. “Thanks for talking to me,” he adds.

“Anytime. Sleep well,” she says warmly, and the line goes dead.

He supposes he brought this on himself by keeping his feelings hidden. He waited too long, playing it safe. He wanted to gauge her feelings before he made any overt moves, and someone else beat him to it.

It’s just one date. But there’s going to be more. By the sound of it, she wants there to be more.

There’s no way he’s going to sleep well tonight.

He’s in a sour mood when he’s summoned to the Gunmen’s… den? lair? headquarters? the next afternoon, by way of one of their patented cryptic phone calls.

Byers unfastens the dozen locks on the door and lets him inside. “Mulder,” he says, ushering him in. “Good to see you.”

Mulder flops down in a rickety desk chair, exhaustion permeating his muscles. “I’m not up for being social today, boys,” he warns. “You said you had information for me?”

“We took the liberty of looking into Agent Scully’s new… uh, friend,” Byers says.

“For safety reason,” Langly adds, seeing Mulder’s lips purse.

“She’s precious cargo,” Frohike says, wiggling his eyebrows.

“How did you find him?” Mulder asks. “I didn’t even know his first name until yesterday.”

“Don’t insult us with your surprise,” Frohike mutters. “We’re experts.”

“We knew he’s a part of the parish Scully attends-“ Byers begins.

“And we knew he’s an ER doc, has a 6 year old daughter, and a dead wife,” Langly cuts in. “That’s plenty to go on.”

“I don’t need to know more than that,” Mulder says, suddenly feeling guilty. “It’s not my business.”

“Maybe not, but we have the info,” Frohike says. “Look, all you need to know is that he seems legit. Name’s Einolander, if you were curious.”

“I wasn’t,” Mulder lies, taking a sunflower seed out of his pocket and biting it pensively.

“Of course not,” Byers says, sounding completely unconvinced.

“You alright, Mulder?” Langly asks. “You look rough.”

“Of course he does,” Frohike hisses in the least subtle whisper of all time. “Scully’s dating someone that’s not him. Cut the guy some slack.”

“You guys don’t know shit,” Mulder grumbles, then backtracks, running his hands over his face. “I’m sorry. I, uh... didn’t sleep well.”

“It’s okay, man,” Langly says.

Frohike nods sagely. ”We know how you feel about her. This can’t be easy for you.”

Mulder wilts in his chair. “How did you know?” he asks pathetically, realizing the jig is up. Has he really been so obvious this whole time? Fucking hell.

“Look, knowing things is our business,” Byers explains. “And we know you. We’ve been around the block with you a few times, and nobody’s meant this much to you. Not even Diana.”

“Plus, Agent Scully is a smokeshow, and you have eyes,” Frohike adds. Byers gives him a jab with his elbow. “Hey, I stand by that,” he declares, rubbing his arm.

“Well thanks anyway, fellas,” Mulder says, standing. “I should get going. The walls in my apartment won’t stare at themselves.”

“Do you want the file we put together on the guy?” Byers asks. “We can make copies.”

Mulder shakes his head. “Keep it. Draw a mustache on his photo or something.” He picks up his coat and slings it over his shoulder. “You kids have fun.”

“If you need anything, just flag us down,” Frohike says, patting Mulder’s back before unlatching the door.

Mulder steps out the door, then turns back. “How old is this guy?”

“Forty-one,” Byers says, flipping through the file. “Five-foot-ten, dark blond hair, brown eyes. Blood type-”

Mulder holds up a hand. “I don’t want to know. Bye, guys.”

He gets a petty, juvenile satisfaction from the fact that he’s two inches taller and four years younger than Dr. Einolander. It’s short-lived, but at this point he’ll take what he can get.

Because he can’t get Scully.

#my fic #txf fic #msr #xfiles #fox mulder closet romantic #fmcr #OH SHIT YALL THE ANGST TRAIN IS PULLING INTO THE STATION #had to do it to em

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redstainedsocks · 3 years

Text

Back to the beginning

So I wanted some context on what had happened to Zach in the first place and also to show some of the differences pre- and post- captivity and lo, another POV character was born.

Warnings: violence, fight scene, knife mention, taser, injuries, kidnapping on video, torture mention, scared whumpee, aftermath of captivity, stress/trauma responses.

Part 1, part 2

Sasha had watched the security footage many times. Possibly hundreds. At first looking for clues for a way to find Zach after he’d been grabbed, then later out of guilt, and then later still out of a desire to see him again at his best—whole and fighting and fierce.

They had all thought it would be the last time they’d see him alive. They’d been proven wrong when two videos and a couple of dozen photos had been sent on a memory card to their headquarters. Footage of Zach bleeding and blurry and suffering. He’d been tortured, clearly. The extent of the damage was impossible to tell but it didn’t look good.

It was his eyes in those pictures which had haunted Sasha—they’d been lifeless, empty of joy. He looked like a man who believed there was nothing good left to experience. And then they’d found his body—or, so they’d thought.

That was two years and three months ago, and now he’d been found, alive but littered with injuries, and he was on his way here after three days in hospital.

Sasha couldn’t say why, in her nervous anticipation, she opened the window and played the video again. It seemed to happen without her deciding to do it, some kind of ingrained response to her worry. There was no sound but in Sasha’s mind it played with background static. The black and white footage was grainy, but she’d seen it so many times by now that it looked crystal clear to her eyes.

She’d been Zach’s field partner that day and she’d let him down. They’d come up against a wall of tear gas and retreated; it was an ambush no doubt about it. The first sight of Zach on the footage was him stumbling backwards, arm flung out. The inside of the building wasn’t caught on the CCTV, she knew they’d left out of a side door but that was where her memory ended. Someone had been waiting, taken her down with one swift blow to the back of the neck. The last glimpses of Zach on that day were here, while she had lain unconscious just out of view, mere feet away.

Zach was clearly fighting someone, his back was to the camera but he jolted, parried and blocked with an assailant just off-screen. His weapon had been knocked aside and he fought empty handed for a drawn out series of blows and strikes back. There was one long, agonising minute where he stumbled out of view of the cameras before he reappeared with a small knife in hand. Probably the one from his own boot but they had never been able to verify that.

He slashed and jumped back, his instincts and training were strong and there was no reason to believe he couldn’t hold his own in a one-on-one fight. He circled his opponent and faded into the shadows to the right of the screen, and came back with speed, arm raised, ready to strike. The person he fought was in range of the camera by that point—masked and unidentifiable—and they grappled for a long moment, until Zach was thrust aside. He found his feet easily enough, caught his balance, and blocked two hits to the face but took one to the stomach. He doubled over, the footage wobbled, static blurred the screen for a second.

As Zach straightened the last time Sasha held her breath. She leaned in closer to the monitor knowing what was coming.

Zach stumbled forward with a sudden jerk, his arm hanging limply and his knife dropped out of shot while he doubled over. He took a harsh blow to the face and swung around, going down hard on one knee. Even after all this time Sasha still winced. She could see the bolt of the crossbow glinting where it protruded from his shoulder even in the lowlight film.

She had a burst of pride, like always, as Zach clawed back to his feet. He blocked another punch that should have sent him sprawling, kicked away the knife that he’d dropped so it couldn’t be used against him, and faced his attacker once more. Her stomach flipped as the end of the altercation drew near. There was a short grapple and the bolt in his shoulder was grabbed and yanked on, and Zach threw his head back in what could only have been a howl of pain.

Once Zach was shoved to the ground the second attacker appeared, and he tried to get up only to be tased into a twitching, helpless tangle of limbs on the ground. Sasha watched with a sense of righteous anger burn through her, it was worse now that she knew this brutal fight didn’t only lead to weeks of pain and a messy death for Zach… but years of lost time, where he could have been subjected to almost anything. Knowing now that it only got worse for him made her sick.

He snarled at them, bared his teeth, tried valiantly to get back on his feet and keep fighting and only went still when they tased him a second time—paralysed and possibly unconscious. She watched them rip off his helmet, his arm bracers, his Kevlar vest, all of it discarded onto the tarmac beside where he lay. The two attackers were brutal, landing kicks and slapping Zach around the face.

Sasha sped up the footage, watching at two times the speed as one of the attackers made a brief call, a van pulled up—license plate obscured—and they dragged Zach into it. There was only a dark grey puddle that Sasha knew to be blood left behind. She stopped, closed the program, and rubbed at her eyes.

She knew what came next, she didn’t need to see it. Her team arriving too late, the ambulance that was called to assist her, the weeks of sleepless nights and fruitless searching. She pulled her hair out of her braid to plait it again with practiced ease, a way to calm her nerves. She’d lived with her shortcomings that day, made as much peace as she could knowing she wasn’t the only one to blame. The entire mission had been compromised and she only played one small part in the turn of events. It still kept her up at night though, it still ate away at her confidence at her ability to do her job—though she would never tell anyone that.

And today… she was going to look the man she let down in the eye. The man who had been through hell and back, the man she should have helped to protect, should have been fighting side by side with. How would he react? Did he hold resentment? Would he rather not see her?

For that matter, it was possible he would rather not see any of them, but the team was the only safe place he thought he could gp?

The message came that the vehicle was only a few minutes away and Sasha stood and smoothed down her shirt, grabbed her jacket and put it on, if only for something to hold on to if she needed to ground herself. Best to face it head on and get it over with. Better to know. She’d had enough years of thinking the worst.

She wasn’t the only one who decided to be part of a welcoming committee and they met the convoy of vehicles in the underground car park below their current office headquarters, and came out of the lift just as the cars pulled to a stop. The windows were blacked out and she waited anxiously next to Lacey and Jordan as their old leader, Emit Bryson climbed out of the first car with his assistant in tow. Bryson looked tired, his frown lines looked deeper than usual on his dark skin and shadows blurred under his eyes, but he had a bounce in his step that Sasha didn’t think she’d seen since Zach was taken. He caught her eye and nodded, smoothing down his wool coat with one hand while the other loosened his tie and top button. His walking stick was, for the moment, tucked under his arm and out of use.

Archer jumped out of the second car and helped to guide a tense man out after him; a man who shrank in on himself trying to look smaller than he was, and it took Sasha a second to put the pieces together. That was Zach. He had a blindfold over his eyes and was utterly still when Archer let go of his hands. The blindfold was a necessity to protect their new location until Zach could be confirmed to be uncompromised and fit to know and protect their secrets once again. It still seemed cruel when she thought about how untethered Zach must feel.

Archer leaned in and spoke to Zach, and Zach slowly reached up and pulled away the sleep mask that had doubled as a blindfold. His eyes were brightly alert, flicking quickly from place to place, and Sasha could only guess at how many times he’d had to assess danger while completely helpless before it.

Besides the rise and fall of his breath that rocked him back and forth he was frozen in place when he wasn’t being guided to move. His movements were jerky and so unlike the vibrant man she knew before. Zach was nearly always doing something with his body- tapping his foot or fingers and he was fluid and smooth, almost dancer-like when he moved, his posture relaxed and easy, unless he was alert out in the field. Which she guessed, in a way, made sense. He’d gone out on a mission it had never ended, he’d never got to come home. This was what years of being unable to relax, unable to rest, probably did to a person.

It turned her stomach, and made the whole thing seem suddenly more real—the stuff of nightmares come to life.

Bryson strode forward and gestured for Zach and Archer to follow. Sasha turned and locked eyes with Jordan and Lacey in turn, seeing her own shock mirrored on their faces. As much as they’d tried to prepare themselves, seeing Zach like this was never going to be easy.

Lacey recovered first and stepped forward first, raising her hand and offering a wide smile. “Hey, we all came down to see you, I hope that’s alright. Way to be overwhelming right?” she laughed breezily, breaking the tension as she shoved her hands in her pockets with a shrug. “We just wanted to welcome you home, well, back.”

Zach latched on to each person who spoke, his attention zeroed in on whoever was moving and addressing him like his life depended on it.

“You all know each other well enough, I think Zach will be able to lead the way in how comfortable he feels able to talk to you all, and how soon,” Bryson said.

Zach’s eyes widened, and he licked his lips with obvious nervous energy. Sasha wanted to reach out and pat him on the shoulder, say something, anything. Offer comfort. What comfort could she have to offer?

“I can… yes? Hi. Hi, all of you.” He glanced around the sea of faces but Sasha was fairly sure he didn’t actually see any of them, not really. Zach’s voice shook but he smiled briefly, a flash of upturned lips, and then looked to Archer for something Sasha couldn’t name.

“It’s been a long day, long… lots of days. Let’s get upstairs first and then we can all say our hellos and I miss yous and all of that. No reason to rush, we have time,” Archer said, smoothing over the awkwardness. He muscled forward with his large frame to call the lift down and Zach stuck close on his heels, close enough to bump with his elbow though Sasha noted that he carefully kept his body from touching. “I could really go for some coffee, dunno about anyone else.”

“I think some refreshments and a good sit down will be in order, yes,” Bryson replied. “Did anyone buy more of my favourite blend yet?”

Jordan, with his smooth voice and easy grace, answered. “Of course, what do you take us for? We wouldn’t let you go without it two visits in a row. I think someone made a run out for Zach’s favourite tea too, so we have the basics covered.” He winked at Zach and Zach blushed.

The lift pinged open behind her and Sasha moved aside to let everyone through, Zach’s gaze landed on her and he winced, she watched him swallow and carefully fold his arms across his chest. Her heart withered, desperately sad, furious all over again… until he raised three fingers from his elbow and tilted half his mouth up into a smile.

She smiled back broadly, nodded at him, and he melted into Archer’s side looking positively exhausted.

Sasha had no idea what any of it meant, or where his head was at, but the fact that he hadn’t yelled or dismissed her or cried… that was better than her worst fears. Maybe it would be alright? There were too many of them to fit in the lift, the passengers from the cars took up all the space and Sasha, Jordan, and Lacey waved them off. They could have waited for a second lift, but none of them wanted to stand around awkwardly waiting. There was too much nervous energy between them, so they took to the stairs instead. It was four flights up to their main office, and if she thought the time for useless wondering about what had happened to her friend was over—well, she had ninety-six stairs and several painful days ahead to ponder it more.

[Taglist: @haro-whumps, @whumpthisway let me know if you’d like to be added or removed]

#whump OC #whump series #team whump #I mean sort of?#OC team #aftermath of whump #whump recovery #knives tw #referenced violence #kidnapping #torture mention #capture video #taser #stress response #trauma recovery #trauma response #post captivity whump #Zach and Archer

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wizkiddx · 4 years

Text

Need your person

ahhh i have really no idea what i am doing. Anywayyyss this is a really angsty Harry fic, I have a part two but not sure how I feel abt it - so we will see if it ever sees the light of day x x x

“Tom? I’m back!” Nadia declared as she heavily shut the black gloss front door of her boyfriend's place. She was wrestling with a ridiculous amount of shopping bags, that bounced against her calves before deciding to just dump them at the door- they could be dealt with later. Naturally, she’d blame the excessive haul on her friend that she’d met for lunch; Georgia almost forced her to buy all the clothes...right?

Once she had done so, she glanced around the almost still house, making her left eyebrow quirk up a bit. Since Tom and Harry returned for Toms latest filming venture their house hadn’t been quiet for a moment thereafter. With Tom, Harry, Harrison and herself and Y/n (Harry’s girlfriend) living there- fair to say there normally was at least someone messing around and causing chaos. Before she could read any more into it, Tom appeared round the corner, a small smile as he caught sight of his lovely and almost certainly shopping addicted girlfriend.

“Hey”

“Hey” He replied back, smile tight-lipped and a very awkward atmosphere falling over the normally most easy-going couple. Nadia didn’t like it, choosing to address it straight up.

“You gonna tell me why the weird vibe then?” Bags long since forgotten and abandoned, the couple naturally entered the sitting room- Tom landing heavily on the plush cream sofa.

“I-er... look I know she’s one of your best friends but... well Harry’s got a pretty conclusive photo and account taken by some fan. She’s been cheating on him.” Nadia was unaware of her jaw falling slack while she stood above her boyfriend, arms folded and shaking her head slightly.

“No Y/n wouldn’t. Come off it Tom you know too, there’s no chance.”

“I’m serious Nads. Harry’s confronting her now, shits really fucked him up.” Tom had this hard tone behind his intense gaze, something that Nadia had only seen a handful of times in their 1 yes relationship. It scared her.

“ Nonono rewind though. Y/n wouldn’t cheat on him... she’s so in love with the boy!” Tom knew this would be tricky, especially with how close the two girls had gotten over that first lockdown and then ever since. Sometimes he questioned who the relationship was between, Nadia and Y/n seemingly just made for each other in a platonic kind of way. He sighed heavily, digging his phone out his back pocket to show her the picture, all the while watched by her intense hazel gaze. Not saying another word, Tom just held his phone out for her to take, photo on the display.

“Swipe next to see what she says” after a short time Tom added, Nadia squinting at the phone and clearly zooming in on the blurry image.

It did look pretty damning, Y/n and an unnamed man with his arm around her- pulling her almost flush against his chest, even at the public cafe they were seated outside. Though the image was grainy as hell, Y/n looked upset, as if he was comforting her. He, just for information, was a fairly attractive man- Tom would fairly admit. Clean-shaven, crisp white shirt on, jet black hair perfectly styled and a strongly carved face.

That was the issue though, why Nadia’s lips parted with a silent and almost non-existent breath outwards- most getting stuck in her throat. She knew the face, briefly, from an encounter when the boys were away filming. She’d been so busy concentrating on Y/n at that moment about a month ago, it was a surprise she recognised the face at all.

Suddenly feeling her heart drop, Nadia followed her boyfriends instructions and swiped left, revealing a screenshot of an Instagram direct message - along paragraph giving an exact recount of the day (or at least this ransomers recount). To paraphrase:

“ she just kept going ‘Harry can’t find out. I can’t tell Harry.’ She sounded upset but I just thought you should know”

The fan was obviously well-meaning but just so so wrong. Nadia gulped a little before looking up at her boyfriend, who was unconsciously tensing his jaw. He did that when he was uncomfortable or nervous and hell was he.

“Where are they?”She muttered voice quiet which Nadia hadn’t realised till long since she’d spoken. It was just tense.

“In the garden but we need to leave them be it’s not-“

“-FUCK” Predictably, Nads didn’t let Tom finish, already turning on her heel and rushing into the kitchen. Tom yelling something and following, but that’s not what she was concentrating on.

Her best mate needed her.

Even at the far end of the kitchen, Nadia froze at the sight through the garden windows. Y/n was sat with her head in her hands, clearly crying and rocking slightly on the black wicker garden furniture set while Harry stood above.

Harry.

Harry was seething with rage. Nads could see him yelling at her, arms being flown round to articulate his anger furthermore. Because Harry didn’t open up easily. Because Harry was so in love with someone that apparently betrayed him so completely. When he saw that DM he just couldn’t ignore it. He’d always been self-conscious, Y/n knew that most of all. It felt like a knife was plunged and then twisted deeper into his chest. And who committed the heinous act? The person he had trusted most int he world.

“Tom, I will explain but for now you just have to trust me.” Tearing her eye line away from Y/n’s crumpled body, which flinched with every harsh word Harry yelled- as if he were trying to get a reaction from her. Tom just looked at Nads in disbelief, arms crossed protectively and waiting for more.

“Look…I-I know for a fact she didn’t cheat. There something you both don’t know but it’s not this at all.”

“Nadia I know your close but.-“

“I’m being very fucking serious Tom. If you trust me you have to go and get Harry away. Bloody look at him- she’s not arguing back! He’s hurting them both.”

“ He has a right to be angry.” Tom tried to counter, feeling uncomfortable with how easily Nadia brushed off such a serious and real accusation.

“Tom for both their sakes, please...I’m begging you to help me” It was the desperation in her brown eyes. Making Tom shift from foot to foot. He was so torn but Nadia must have a reason. This isn’t just her bullshitting to protect a friend, he could see that much. As she grabbed his hands desperately, Tom already knew he was going to follow her. And she could most definitely see it too as she minutely smiled in thanks before walking with purpose toward the back door.

—————

You needed an out. Now.

When Harry had first cornered you in the house with a steely gaze and asked you to have a conversation in the garden, you’d been running on adrenaline. Naturally, you thought he had somehow found out- but this? He had got it oh so wrong. But what hurt most was the fact you couldn’t say anything. You knew his heart was breaking, the fact he was screaming at you and calling you names you thought he never could even associate with you, it was only because he was so hurt. Yet at that moment, you couldn’t fathom how to explain the truth. That was the issue… the truth would hurt him too. So maybe it was easier this way, him hating you and suddenly not being apart of each other's life. Because that would still hurt him less than reality.

With that thought, your body decided to just make this even harder. What did it do you ask? Choose that exact moment to fail you again. Your thoughts all suddenly got jumbled, it felt like your brain was on some sort of rollercoaster. Brief moments of clarity when you weren’t swimming in a pool of disorientation. But to be honest, those moments when you could see the pain on his face, they hurt more than just sinking into oblivion as your body sorted folded over on itself.

You were stuck fighting two battles neither of which you were sure you could win.

—————

It was just then, as Harry launched into another ‘how dare you betray him’ spiel that Nadia and Tom opened the door. Nadia making an immediate beeline to Y/n, holding her shoulders and trying to support her into an upwards position - leaving Tom to deal with a ball of hurt and rage that was Harry.

“Mate you need to stop it’s not making any-“

“Fuck off Tom this is between me and her.” Harry snapped back, slapping his brother's arms off his.

“I know but it’s not going anywhere.”

“Tom”

“Harry I’m serious give it a minute. You need to cool down” Tom urged, still slightly concerned by the rage in his brother's eyes, while Tom gently reached out to hold his shoulders. The younger man needed a bit of grounding and the contact meant Tom could half steer him toward the house. With a quick glance of worry back to Y/n and Nadia, Tom followed Harry inside- arguing him up the stairs into his room.

Meanwhile, Nadia was getting more and more concerned. Y/n could barely hold her body up and she was shaking.

“Y/n what do you need um the-the finger prick thing?… What’s happening?”

“Yeh and uh…Need the... in the fridge get the oat milk and my-my bag.” It was a bit of a weird request but Nadia wasn’t going to question it and ran inside, grabbing the oat milk that seemed to rattle and then Y/n’s bag which was just in the countertop, knowing that was where she kept her finger prick test. Although this wasn’t about her either - Nadia was slightly terrified, shakily shouting for Haz who had to be somewhere in the house.

“Okay okay, do you need my help?” Nadia spoke with trembling hands, unzipping the little pouch to reveal the red device and all its apparatus. During the month the boys had been away Nadia had seen Y/n do this a thousand times, but it still scared her at the thought. Luckily Y/n shook her head and took the device, pricking her finger then squeezing the blood onto the sensor film. While it beeped away measuring her glucose levels she smiled weakly at her friend.

“I’m just low I think, can you get the sachets out the milk?” Because of course, Y/n was such an idiot she had hid her essential medication within a carton of oat milk, which was genius and stupid in equal measure. Genius because everybody else in the house was absolutely disgusted by oat milk being a thing so no one would ever try to make a cuppa with it; stupid because in moments like this, who was to know that the bloody oat milk carton could save her life?

“Do I need to phone an ambulance… you-you don't look good Y/n/n.”

“No” Y/n swallowed thickly, grimacing slightly at the reading that just appeared on the device - by far the lowest it had ever read since she had started having to do these stupid measurements. “If I pass out then yes but… I just need the glucose strips” Nadia nodded, still trying to prise the plastic packages out the empty oat milk container. Wordlessly Nadia finally phished one out and ripped it open immediately thrusting it into Y/n’s mouth - at least 70% certain that was what she had to do with them.

While all this was happening Harrison wandered into the garden and looked at the scene in front of him in a bit of shock. Y/n was deathly grey, looking as though she was fighting every urge in her body to just relax everything and collapse into unconsciousness. Nadia kneeled in front of her, already working on ripping another packet open. After taking a moment or two to process what was happening Haz knelt down next to Nadia.

“You need me to do anything?”

“I -er don’t think so… actually Y/n?? Y/N????” Nadia started violently shaking Y/n whose eyes had finally slipped shut. “Fuck shit fuck… you need to ring an ambulance Haz.”

“Your serious?”

“Deadly. I’ll explain later just get your phone… tell them she was having a hypo and now she’s unconscious. The er the number on the machine thing was 2.8”

Harrison didn’t argue; he did what he was told and an ambulance was immediately dispatched while Nadia followed instructions of the operator that had been put on speaker, still dropping the sachets of liquid down into her mouth. In fact, when they heard the ambulance pull into their road, Y/n started to stir- groaning and heavily blinking her eyes open.

It was a bit of a blur, but the paramedics came in and slowly Y/n started to get more with it.

“You know what happened to you love?” The kind-eyed Liverpudlian lady asked, removing the oxygen mask that was put on her as a precautionary measure, in the haze of them arriving.

“Blood sugar low?”

“Uh-huh, you’ve just had a hypo. Are you type 1 or 2?”

“Um, I-uh…” Y/n flicked her eyes up to see Haz still stood looking very concerned while Nadia spoke to the other paramedic in hushed tones. “Neither… I got pancreatic cancer and so…so my whole pancreas is kind of dying.” Y/n could practically hear Harrison's eyes bugging out his head - but kept her eyes firmly on the blonde stout lady. She wasn’t ready to face that yet.

“Oh, lovie... you have to be really careful yeh? Hypos can turn to a coma really quick and you know what happens then.”

“I’m sorry, I uh guess I forgot to eat and then been running on adrenaline cos of…” Because of Harry. But she wasn’t about to pour her heart out to a complete stranger so instead shut her mouth. Emma, the paramedic, seemed t9 get the message and again smiled down at her gently.

“It’s okay I get it... so you know then that because you lost consciousness really we should be taking you to the hospital? Get your bloods checked?” The grimace on Y/n’s face was more than enough to answer her.

“Please I just want to sleep-“

“You need to go to hospital Y/n/n” Haz interjected who had been completely silent and still in shock. Yes, she wasn’t his girlfriend, but they were bloody close and he still hadn’t really had an explanation.

“I just want to sleep and-and I got a lot of explaining to do” Y/n made the mistake of momentarily looking up to see Harrison’s glassy eyes and Emma followed suit.

“You the boyfriend?”

“No, i- um I’m his housemate.”

“If we are even still together” Y/n mumbled her eyes trained on the ground. In response, Haz huffed indignantly sitting down right beside the slightly crippled girl and slung his arm around her shoulder. “Don’t you worry about that hey? Everything’s is gonna be fine.” Her head came to rest on his arm making Haz bend down to press a gentle kiss to her forehead. She was sort of the other sister, having been on the scene much earlier than Nadia had, he’d come to really get on with her.

After a moment of just being there with Haz, Y/n simply thankful he didn’t seem to hate her or believe the rumours anymore, Emma spoke up.

“So a hard pass on the hospital is it? Because then we should just think about getting you inside to rest.” Y/n nodded hard, very clearly expressing her preference, making the two chuckle. “They’d only be checking your blood levels which I can get a doctor to do tomorrow morning from home. I’m not supposed to say this but it's okay to stay.” It was all going swimmingly until they heard a very very familiar voice.

“What the hells happening?”

#harry holland #harry holland x reader #harry holland x y/n #tom holland

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artificialqueens · 3 years

Text

Galactica, Chapter 65 (Group Fic) - TheDane/Veronica

A/N: Chapter 65 seems like a good time to tell you that there’s nothing we love more than talking to you guys about this story! We are both on tumblr (@theartificialdane and @veronicasanders) and we’d love to hear from you!! We also have other Galactica content there under the “galactica” and “galactica wardrobe” tags. XOXO!! Click here if you’re looking for previous chapters (or here if you’d rather read on AO3). 💫

Last Chapter: Bianca threw a wrench in the annual holiday party when she brought Courtney as her date, and Katya tried to (not) deal with her surprise pregnancy.

This Chapter: Miss Fame and the team work on the final lineup for the spring runway, and Katya figures some things out.

***

It was Violet’s luck that she was a light sleeper, the first note of her alarm barely ringing before she had grabbed her phone from under her pillow and turned it off.

There really wasn't a need for Violet to wake up at 6, for her to start her day so early since she couldn’t go to the gym because of her ankle, but habits were hard to break, and she liked how quiet the world was in the morning, how it felt like she was the only one awake.

She wasn’t hungover, had barely had a drink because of her crutches, but she had a feeling all of her coworkers would be wearing sunglasses and asking each other to shut up, the Friday after the Christmas party always an experience.

Sutan’s bedroom was dark, his curtains swallowing the ever present lights of Harlem, the man asleep next to her, his head resting on his pillow.

It took everything in Violet not to reach out and run her fingers through his hair.

She had been so annoyed with him last night, so uncomfortable in the beautiful red dress she had bought with his money, the simmering anger not leaving her until she had felt Sutan’s clever fingers undo the zipper on her back, skin against skin finally freeing her from the smoldering fire.

“Stop staring at me.” Violet froze, Sutan’s voice deep with sleep.

“I’m not.”

“Oh?” Sutan cracked an eye open, a smile playing on his lips as he reached out, grabbing her hip on top of her blanket. “Could have fooled me.”

“Well,” Violet smiled back, allowing him to pull her in, “Maybe I was. A little bit.”

***

As her alarm sounded, Courtney groaned, burying her head into Bianca’s neck. Bianca laughed, reaching over to hit snooze, giving them a few more precious minutes in bed before Courtney had to get up.

Bianca had never been much of a morning person, but she’d discovered that, in many ways, this was her favorite part of the day. When the world was dark and still, and they were curled together under the covers, naked and warm. She trailed her fingers up and down Courtney’s back, pressed a kiss to her temple.

“You okay, sunshine?” Bianca asked.

“Mmmhmm...I just don’t want to go to work.”

Bianca smiled, one hand settling into the curve of Courtney’s waist, enjoying the way they fit so perfectly together.

“Then don’t,” she stated, warming up to the idea of taking a day off, just the two of them. “Call in sick.”

“I wish,” Courtney scoffed, a deep sigh leaving her. “But I can’t, so…”

“Why not?”

“The day after a party? Everyone will think I have some crazy hangover.”

“Yeah, so?” Bianca laughed.

“Plus, I’m pretty sure Miss Fame is less than pleased with me right now. I don’t want to give her any reason to be annoyed. And there’s a big meeting to decide on the spring runway, and I have to-”

“Alright, alright...forget I suggested it,” Bianca said, holding up her hands in surrender. “I just really liked the idea of spending all day in bed with you.”

Courtney raised herself up on her elbow, gazing down at Bianca with a dreamy smile on her face.

“Maybe, um...can we do that tomorrow?”

“You’re on, angel,” Bianca said, reaching up to run her fingers through her hair.

“And...we still have about seven minutes before the alarm goes off again.” Courtney brushed her lips against Bianca’s neck, murmuring, “You wanna go back to sleep, or…?”

“Hmmm...” Bianca cocked her head, pretending to think. “I may have some other ideas…”

Courtney let out a delighted squeal as Bianca flipped her onto her back with a wicked grin.

***

Maxwell groaned as a loud clatter sounded through the design floor.

“Sorry!” Kiara whisper-shouted, quickly picking up the pair of scissors she had dropped. Trixie had gone to the department head meeting about 20 minutes ago, which meant that everyone had given up the pretense that they were working. Alexis had gone straight for the couch to take a nap as soon as the door had closed behind him, April still nursing a terrible-looking green smoothie at her desk. “Sorry everyone!”

“Don’t even think about it girl!” Bob smiled, his phone pressed between his shoulder and his ear, and Maxwell groaned again, sliding down so he could rest his head on his arms, Bob chatting away.

He loved his boyfriend, he really did, but there were few things more annoying than when Bob had managed to get into any tabloid, the perceived fame of it always going directly to his head. And of course, it was made even worse by his friends and family back home in Georgia playing right into it, acting as if it meant anything at all.

“Listen, I didn’t ask to be born fabulous, but it’s my cross to bear, and I’m-” Bob laughed, adding, “Exactly!”

“He’s really getting into it, huh?” Maxwell looked up to see Violet standing next to his desk, looking over at Bob, Jovan at her side holding three cups of coffee.

“Here,” Jovan smiled, giving one of them to Maxwell, the scent filling his nose.

“Oh god I love you,” Maxwell grinned, taking the liquid magic. It was probably not healthy to be on his third cup already, but he didn’t care.

“Love you too boo,” Jovan grinned, taking a seat on the edge of his desk, Violet doing the same, balancing her crutch so she could take her own cup. They didn’t talk, and Maxwell loved that, Violet fitting so nicely into their little boys club that he barely even thought about the fact that she was a girl and straight most days.

***

“Pearl! Pay attention!”

Pearl snapped out of it, the wheels of her chair squeaking as she moved, her eyes wide open at the commanding tone in Fame’s voice.

“Sorry!” Pearl sat up straight, Bendela hiding a snicker behind a sketchbook, her brown eyes clearly filled with delight over Pearl getting reprimanded.

“God,” Fame rolled her eyes, her hand on her hip, her outfit of the day a white cropped cashmere sweater and white linen high waisted pants, her blonde hair in a high delicate updo, a golden belt snug around her waist. “Did anyone come to work today?”

If they had been alone, Pearl would have opened her mouth to point out that she was the one who always arranged for the Christmas party to be on a Thursday, but they weren’t, so Pearl kept her mouth shut.

“Fame,” Raja’s voice was warm, and it apparently functioned just as intended, her tone a soothing balm on whatever had Fame into such a tizzy. “We’re almost done.”

If Pearl had to make an educated guess, she’d say it was probably the whole Courtney and Bianca thing, though it could be anything from her breakfast grapefruit not being ripe to morning traffic to a photographer catching a bad angle of her last night.

“You’re right,” Fame sat back down, sliding her chair over to Trixie. “So, fourth look. What do you have?”

“I was thinking about these pants?” Trixie held out a sketch, and Pearl folded her hands over her stomach, watching her best friend do his job exceptionally well.

Fame tapped her fingers against the table, french tips hitting the wood and Pearl made a mental note to see if she could sneak in a visit to Fame’s office, providing their boss with an orgasm before lunch a great Christmas gift to everyone in the company.

***

V-List Alert: BDR’s Latest Blonde Bombshell

[Pictured: A large photo of Bianca and Courtney kissing on the red carpet, along with a few smaller shots of them looking giggly and affectionate. And lastly, a grainy, low-res photo of them on the street after the event, kissing while a driver is opening the car door.]

Well, well, well…

Okay, so to begin with, let’s all admit that BDR showing up on a red carpet with some sweet young thing is nothing new. In fact, it would be strange if she didn’t. But the shameless PDA last night at Galactica’s annual Christmas party—both on and off the carpet—had us wondering...who the hell is the new paramour?

We did a bit of digging and strap in kids, cause it gets juicy…

Turns out that this little darling is named Courtney Jenek. Sound familiar? No? Yeah it shouldn’t. But she happens to have two very interesting connections to BDR: 1, apparently she’s friends with B’s baby sister, princess of the underground punk scene Adore Delano. And 2, even more hilariously, Lil Courtney here is the Executive Assistant to none other than Miss Fame of Galactica.

Wonder what the illustrious and brand-conscious Miss Fame thinks of her bestie using her staff in what appears to be an extremely filthy unprofessional way? And how’s it all gonna play out?

We can’t wait to watch this drama unfold…

***

As Courtney slipped on her coat and grabbed her bag to head downstairs for yet another coffee run, she glanced at her personal phone, laughing to herself when she saw the 17 missed calls from Morgan. She scrolled through the text messages in the elevator.

MORGAN: COURTNEYYYYYYYY!!!

MORGAN: OMG PICK UP

MORGAN: WERE YOU PLANNING TO TELL US YOU’RE FUCKING BIANCA DEL RIO?????

TYRA: She’s WHAT

ADORE: You guys didn’t know? ;)

TATIANNA: Yawn, old news :p

MORGAN: BITCH

MORGAN: COURTNEY I SWEAR TO GOD IF YOU DON’T PICK UP

MORGAN: COURTNEYCOURTNEYCOURTNEYCOURTNEYCOURTNEY

Courtney called her back, laughing some more when she picked up even before the first ring.

“You know I’m working, right?”

“I am going to murder you,” Morgan announced.

“Wow Morgan. A hate crime? I really thought more highly of you,” Courtney replied with a giggle.

“Omigod, shut up! How could you not have told me already?!”

“Well...I don’t know, I wasn’t sure what it was at first-” she said.

“It’s still fucking major!” Morgan laughed. “I guess it makes sense, though. God, you always chose the worst men.”

Courtney chuckled, nodding as she exited the elevator and headed for the coffee shop.

“So what did your parents say?”

“Uhhh...I haven’t exactly told them yet.”

“Courtney!”

“What? It’s not gonna be dramatic or anything, you know my brother’s gay.”

“Omigod, Court, you absolute idiot. You have to-”

“One sec.” Courtney lowered her phone to give the orders for the meeting, then went back to the phone. “Sorry, I’m on a coffee run.”

“Yeah, I heard. Listen, Courtney, you have to tell them! Do you really want them to find out that you’re dating a woman who’s almost twice your age from a fucking tabloid?”

“I don’t think my parents subscribe to American fashion blogs.”

“Did you even read the link I sent you?! Someone’s gonna send it to them, trust me.”

“Alright, alright, I’ll tell them,” Courtney told her with an eye roll. She really didn’t see the big deal though; telling her parents was the last thing on her list of worries at the moment.

“Also…” Morgan’s voice lowered, taking on a sing-song, teasing tone now that the business was out of the way, “When are we hanging out? ‘Cause you know I absolutely need all the sordid details.”

“Soon, I promise.”

“Tomorrow night?”

“I’m kind of busy tomorrow,” Courtney admitted.

“Busy getting railed, you mean?”

“Maybe…”

“Ha, you slag.”

***

Maybe she was avoiding going home. That was certainly possible. But on Friday, Katya just seemed to keep finding things to do to prepare for the next week of school. It would be their last week before winter break, so she knew that any kind of serious learning would be difficult. Rather than spend her time fighting with the kids to focus when they just weren’t capable of it, she planned as many fun projects as possible, and though a lot of them were old hat for her by now, the prep work never seemed to end.

Which is why, when Jasmine, the woman who ran the afterschool program, came to her door at almost 6:45, she was still there.

“Hey, I’m sorry to bother you…”

“It’s no bother, come on in,” Katya said, a big smile on her face, especially when she saw that Jasmine had Grace with her--one of Katya’s favorite students.

“You know we close at 6, and Grace’s mom is running late today,” Jasmine said. Her tone of voice was light and cheerful, but her eyes told Katya a different story--that this wasn’t the first time it had happened, and that she was likely furious. “I gotta get home, and Dani’s out with the flu, so...do you mind keeping her here until Leslie shows up? It should be soon, she texted me ten minutes ago that she’s on the way.”

“No problem. We’ll have a great time, won’t we Grace?”

The little girl nodded, skipping into the classroom happily.

“You’re a lifesaver,” Jasmine said. “Thank you!”

Katya turned to Grace, who had dumped her jacket and backpack on the rug and was already prowling around the book bins, likely looking for her favorite Junie B. Jones stories. Soon, the two of them were settled into bean bag chairs in the comfy zone, Katya reading a few chapters out loud to her before realizing that she was probably hungry and suggesting a snack. Grace was just finishing her juice box and goldfish crackers when her young mother, Leslie, came rushing inside, harried and out of breath, apologizing profusely.

“Mama!” Grace jumped up from her seat at the little table, knocking the chair over in her excitement to leap into her mom’s arms. She hugged her tightly, face buried in her neck, and Katya could see some of the tension in Leslie’s face melt away.

Katya stood up from her own seat, picking up the book they’d been reading.

“I’m gonna put this book in Grace’s backpack so that you can finish it together this weekend,” she said, and Leslie shot her a look of pure gratitude, nodding.

“Grace, can you say thank you to Mrs. Zamo?”

“Thank you Mrs. Zamo!” she echoed cheerfully, taking the backpack and her jacket as Leslie dropped a kiss to the top of her head.

“Honey, can you go wait for me on the bench for a minute?” she asked, tugging gently on one of her pigtails.

“Okay!”

As Grace skipped into the hallway to wait, Leslie turned to Katya, tears filling her eyes.

“I’m really so sorry about being late, I-”

“It’s okay,” Katya said, head tilted sympathetically. “I get it, things happen.”

“It’s been happening all week. I got this new job, and the hours are so tough and the commute is shit, but it’s an extra two dollars an hour and I can’t say no to that. But I just feel like...I feel like I can’t do anything right.”

“I understand,” Katya nodded, putting a hand on her arm. The truth was, though, she didn’t understand. Not really. She’d never been in a position where an extra two dollars an hour would make such a big difference in her life--not even when her dad cut her off. She’d always had money, and by the time her trust fund was depleted, she was living with Trixie, whose generous salary more than covered what they needed, her meager teacher’s salary mostly paying for fun extras, keeping them entertained and living their best lives, or just going in the bank.

She knew she was lucky, but until that moment, seeing the pain in Leslie’s eyes, the fear that she was failing at life and failing her child, maybe she didn’t understand just how lucky.

“I was sitting on the bus thinking about her waiting and waiting, wondering where I was.”

“Can I tell you something?” she asked softly. “Grace didn’t care that you were late, she was just happy to see you when you got here, because it’s really obvious what a good mom you are.”

“Sometimes I feel like the worst mom ever,” Leslie admitted, tears spilling down her cheeks.

“No way. Grace is an amazing kid. She’s smart and kind and enthusiastic--and it’s totally okay if you need some more help. That’s what all of us are here for. I can talk to Jasmine about maybe extending the hours next week, until you can get your schedule sorted. Or maybe Grace can go home with Joey’s mom...don’t you all live in the same building?”

Leslie nodded, a deep sigh leaving her. “Thanks, that’s a good idea. I...I’ll figure it out.”

“Okay. Just remember that you’re not in this alone, you know?” Katya handed over a box of tissues from her desk.

“Yeah. Thanks. Sorry, I-” Leslie wiped her eyes.

“Don’t be sorry,” Katya said, giving her a warm hug.

***

“Oh god!” Gigi groaned, pushing the door to the modeling apartment open, her shoulders aching, her fingertips numb. “Finally!” She dumped her bags down in the hallway, slumping against the wall.

She had been around the town with Sutan all day, shopping for what he called a model wardrobe, Gigi trying on several pairs of heels and flats, her new backpack and purse stuffed with a newly printed book and her brand new phone, their last stop of the day Gigi’s new gym that was just around the corner.

“Gigi?” Bimini popped her head out of the kitchen door, the golden rim around her eyes and her crimped hair clear indicators that meant she had been shooting, Bimini rarely bothering with removing hair and makeup on set. “Welcome home sweetie! How did it go?”

“I’m exhausted!” Gigi pushed out from the wall and kicked her sneakers off. “Who knew shopping could be that hard?”

Gigi heard Symone giggle, her friend sitting at the table and painting her nails, the apartment's newest arrival chopping vegetables for whatever vegan crock pot Bimini was cooking for everyone. They had someone new arrive every couple of days, most girls only staying for a night or two in the bunk beds in what Naomi had dubbed the summer camp room before they were shipped off again if they didn’t interest any of the agents.

“I told you, didn’t I?”

“I know,” Gigi groaned, dumping down in a chair to rest her aching feet, “but I thought you were kidding.” Symone had gone on the trip two weeks ago, her Instagram exploding with content now that she had a brand new phone to post with.

“Did he give you the drink speech too?”

She had eaten lunch with Sutan at an awkwardly fancy restaurant, three sets of cutlery surrounding her plate, her manager going through each set as well as her wine glasses, explaining it to her. Gigi’s mom had always insisted on good manners, but it hadn’t been anything like that.

“The ‘never leave your drink unattended’ one, I mean.”

“Mmh,” Gigi nodded. “The whole entire speech.”

She hoped it’d be unnecessary, but Sutan had run her through what he called the basic safety procedures like putting a hand or a napkin over her glass when she wasn’t paying attention, her manager drilling it into her skull that she shouldn’t accept poured drinks or opened bottles from strangers in clubs unless she saw the bartender prepare it.

“Is he seriously doing all that?” Naomi raised an eyebrow. “So far, all my agent has told me is that if I showed up in any tabloid looking messy, he’d drop my ass.”

Suddenly, Sutan’s mothering didn’t feel as smothering, the attention and assistance the man had poured over her nothing compared to the terrifying thought of being left basically on her own like Naomi.

***

At first, Katya wasn’t sure why she stopped at Macy’s on the way home. Especially now, on a Friday night during the holiday season, when the sales clerks were at their most frazzled.

She wandered around, unable to get Grace and Leslie out of her mind...and in particular, the look of pure joy on Grace’s face when her mother appeared in the doorway. Leslie was a single mom, and by the look of her, she was pretty young, but she had managed to raise an exceptional kid who was sure how much she was loved.

Why was Katya so afraid of having a baby? It was like she’d told Leslie--she wouldn’t be doing it alone. Not by a long shot. No, she was fortunate to have the most wonderful man in the universe by her side. And lord knew, Trixie would make up for any maternal instincts she may lack herself. And plenty of people, people much less capable and loving than her, had babies every day.

She stopped, looking around, realizing that she’d found herself in the baby department. Specifically, in front of a shelf full of tiny little infant shoes. She smiled to herself, knowing exactly what she needed.

When she arrived home, she was thrilled to see that Trixie had prepared dinner, heating up some leftover chicken and mashed potatoes and throwing together a salad--exactly what she was in the mood for.

She smiled when she saw him, announcing, “I brought you a present.”

Trixie’s face lit up, and for a split second she could imagine that exact same expression of joy on a tiny child, the thought making her insides warm as she handed him the little bag.

He looked inside, where the two tiny pink moccasin slippers sat in their plastic box, his head then snapping up to look at her with an expression of amazement.

“Kat, are you-” His eyes were bright with tears, hopeful but still a bit tentative.

She shrugged slightly, self-consciously, afraid to say what she’s been thinking out loud, but Trixie seemed to know anyway.

He rushed forward and swept her up into the biggest, tightest hug she’d ever had, repeating over and over how wonderful she was going to be. She took his face in her hands, kissing his tear-stained cheeks, finally sure that as a team, they could do it.

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xdandelionxbloomx · 4 years

Text

Modern AU Idea continued

(part 1)

Jaskier returned to social media slowly -

He started trickling in posts, snippets of song ideas, some random thoughts mostly on Instagram and his Insta stories--

And then came pictures--

The sunset over the mountains behind Kaer Morhen Ranch was first - gold, orange, burgundy, and indigo shades blending into something he told Geralt that Bob Ross would’ve liked to paint--

Geralt had snorted at that comment, but Jaskier could tell that he was secretly pleased - was happy that Jaskier enjoyed being with him on the ranch--

Another picture - blurry, with a caption--

Geralt took this photo and it’s kind of blurry, but nicely artsy, wouldn’t you say?

It was Jaskier, from his nose down, hands plucking at the acoustic guitar, unfocused and grainy in what little evening light crept through their dining room windows--

Jaskier didn’t tell Geralt that he planned to use it for his new single cover.

Another--

Geralt crouched in front of a little girl whose face was obscured by the man himself as he helped her adjust her riding helmet, his cowboy hat tipped a little crooked - the kids never wanted to wear their helmets if Geralt didn’t wear one and he, too, hated them so he’d taken to the hat which in the past had only cemented his nickname--

What are the kids calling it these days? Cowboycore?

All hell broke loose over that photo - from people observing how good Geralt looked in his worn jeans (which Jaskier could appreciate as well because it was true) to people hounding Jaskier about cowboycore and--

Doesn’t cowboycore have gay connotations?

Jaskier replied - That one Ariana Grande gif. And what about it?

The internet promptly lost their collective mind--

Wait, wait, is that who Honey Gold was about? Someone tweeted him.

That song was five years old and so he didn’t reply--

He wasn’t sure he was ready to share just how long it had been yet.

Jaskier had a plan brewing, but Geralt would have to be willing to be on camera for a significant chunk of it, be willing to really be a part of Jaskier’s art--

He wasn’t sure Geralt was ready and so he didn’t propose it for a while yet, working instead on the single that had taken up a significant part of his brain - an ear worm he couldn’t get rid of that made him tap his fingers on whatever surface was closest if he didn’t have his guitar around.

He shared a photo of a sunset, Geralt leaned up against the fence of the solitary paddock where Roach was housed for the moment while he worked with her--

That horse might have the spirit of a devil, but at least she loves Geralt. As she should.

He couldn’t count the number of comments demanding a name for the little chestnut mare and so the next day he ended up out at the paddock as Geralt lunged the horse without a rope, sending her in circles around the paddock as he stood in the center of it--

Jaskier takes a short video as she passes by--

In the midday sun, her scars were more visible and he hesitated to post it before he settled on captioning the video--

This is Roach. Geralt adopted her through a rescue. Her last owners called her a cockroach from what I’ve heard, but the rescue called her Roachie. Geralt insists that Roach has more dignity.

Jaskier ended up showing Geralt the comments because they were just so--

Sweet.

A few people shared their own stories about their rescue horses and Geralt had been annoyed by the phone being shoved in his face every few minutes at first, but by the end of the day Jaskier knew he was secretly pleased because even though he’d roll his eyes when Jaskier pushed the phone towards him over dinner, Geralt would read the comment he pointed out--

And his lips would twitch up at the corners--

Half of Jaskier’s Instagram became dedicated to Geralt and Roach, just random pictures that he snapped--

The other half tended to be short videos of him messing around on the guitar, or voice updates, or photos of hands--

Then suddenly a couple of weeks where he wasn’t very active--

Those couple of weeks had been hard because he’d finished writing the single entirely, but he’d started on that other project and kept working himself up to ask Geralt about it, but how did one even do that?

How could he possibly--

And then one night Jaskier got out of the shower to find Geralt reading a book on the couch. It wasn’t necessarily unusual - Geralt preferred books to television, but there was something so warm about it that night, something that made his chest ache.

With damp hair he’d made his way over to the couch where he climbed up onto it, curling up against Geralt’s side, nuzzling against him. The other man grunted at the feeling of his wet hair, but didn’t complain, shifting his hold--

He kept the book open with one hand and wrapped his other arm around Jaskier, turning his head briefly to press a kiss to the crown of his head.

“What are you reading?” Jaskier had asked, voice small in the space between them. It didn’t have to be big here. There wasn’t an audience. Just Geralt.

“Poetry.” Geralt answered and Jaskier hummed a soft note.

“Read some?” He rasped, softly, and closed his eyes, settling in.

Geralt did, of course, because despite all his eye rolling he was kind and soft and always had been--

And the words he read gripped Jaskier, cemented the whole swirling picture into something linear, and he fell asleep against Geralt thinking about it, listening to his gruff voice--

Four days later he posted a picture of his notebook with a simply smiley as a caption--

They didn’t need to know that he and Geralt had discussed in length what the project would mean, what it would entail - didn’t need to know that Geralt asked for time to think, that Jaskier had taken it as a no at first and instead turned his attention to perfecting the mixing on the single he planned to release very soon - didn’t need to know that Geralt came to him on the fourth morning and told Jaskier that he’d do it, only if Jaskier promised he didn’t have to fly to New York or wear makeup--

Jaskier had kissed him, had taken him to bed, had told him in the proper words, told Geralt he was going to hear it on the project anyways--

Geralt hadn’t said it back yet, but the look on his face told Jaskier all he needed to know--

The picture of his notebook had far too many comments to even begin to reply to - excitement over new music, people telling him to make sure he felt well before returning, people trying to decipher his handwriting, and then there was the tiny section of people who had started a hashtag.

#Roachupdate -

Please can we get a picture of Roach?

How is Roach doing?

Has Roach let you pet her yet?

So Jaskier caved and posted another photo of Roach - it was significantly closer than all his other photos as Jaskier could stand at the fence now without the devil mare losing her mind.

She’s doing good. She loves Geralt to death, but doesn’t let anyone else touch her. Still can’t be lose with other horses but we’ve been able to have them separated by the fence without her trying to snap at them through it. #Roachupdate

And thus Saturdays became designated Roach Update days, though if someone caught him at a good time on Twitter, he might just tweet a photo of her because he could.

About the time his new single - his ballad about a cowboy who went grey early, who liked his coffee with milk and sugar on good mornings, who had warm hands - came out, he posted a photo of his hand on Roach’s muzzle.

She may be a devil, but she’s our devil. #Roachupdate

His single picked up steam in a way he hadn’t expected it to and suddenly there were eyes on him again and--

It was a lot. He’d forgotten how life could be in the spotlight--

And he worried, he worried about his voice, about--

But the night Geralt read him that poem, voice low, would come back to him and he’d take a deep breath and smile--

Because he could do this again.

He wanted to do this again. Wanted to share with the world his story.

Most of all, he supposed, he wanted to share their story, with Geralt beside him, tell the world about it, about him, about the amazing man--

And so on a rainy Saturday morning, Jaskier posted a photo--

Roach had a simple brown halter on, rope hooked to it, and Jaskier held the rope, smiling just a little as he looked at her--

The photo was Geralt’s phone background because of course Geralt would do that, would make Jaskier’s chest feel too tight in the best way every time he opened his phone up to find something--

But he captioned the photo--

Roach might actually like me now. Geralt rode her the other day with a bareback pad so I’d say that it’s significant progress. Oh, and I started working on my new visual album. #Roachupdate

Safe to say that his fans erupted into chaos.

#geraskier #geralt x jaskier #modern au #my posts #am I going to write his visual album out??#yes.

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thethoughtsfromthreeam · 4 years

Text

Monument Woman

Pairing: Marcus Pike x OC (Rosemary Carter)

Warnings: None

A/N: Enter Marcus Pike, stage right

Reminder: I ain’t ever seen Pedro Pascal in FUCK ALL, I’m just coming up with this as I go along, using imdb.com, wiki, and 84,000 tabs I got open to plan out this shit. I also write soft versions of his characters so if you’re craving asshole vibes, I ain’t got any but my own to offer.

Tag List:

@zeldasayer , @beskars , @coolmaybelateruniverse , @the-feckless-wonder , @pascalisthepunkest , @mandoandyodito , @randomness501 , @fioccodineveautunnale , @ahopelessromanticwritersworld , @lilkermit14 , @tortles [please message me to be added or subtracted]

[PART 1] [PART 2] [PART 3] [PART 4] [PART 5]

Part 6 – Step Forward, Step Back, Find Your Partner Quick

Helen tried her best to console a distraught Rosemary as Officer Garcia spoke to several of his colleagues in the hallway. Her screams had startled the director, who was already on edge due to the break-in and if the circumstances had been different, the look of surprise and horror on the officer’s face would have reduced Helen to peals of laughter. But all the situation did was add worry to her shoulders.

For nearly two hours, the officers questioned Rosemary about the break-in, about the missing piece, and they kept asking if the museum had any enemies. As much as she wanted to say Fred Breyers out of pure spite, Rosemary kept her mouth shut – sure some people weren’t always pleased with some of their program or exhibit topics, but nothing that would result in the theft of an artifact or the physical beating of a staff member. The two women were exhausted by the time the three cops left the building. Rosemary laid on the couch in her office, a wet cloth over her eyes as the lingering headache from the attack ramped up under this new stress.

“Rose, are you going to be okay?” Helen’s voice was soft, but unable to keep the worried tone at bay.

“I honestly don’t know. That statue was the only thing missing. I don’t know if I’m upset because I promised Robert we’d care for it or mad as hell that accepting that ugly ass hunk of bronze led to all of this and possibly hurt the museum’s reputation.” She sighed heavily, the now cool cloth doing little to help her. She slowly sat up, swinging her legs over the sofa’s edge.

“I wouldn’t worry about our reputation. I’m already working with Marquetta on a press release to get ahead of the game. Louis over at the Caller always does right by us, I’ll give him the scoop first and he’ll spin it in our favor.” Helen leaned back. “I’ll also call major donors today to inform them of the situation.”

“I’m sorry, Helen. I never thought this would have happened!” The younger woman groaned heavily as she tried to stand, but the director held out her hand to keep her from getting up. The body stilled.

“Did Francois’ report show anything differently than what Robert had given you?” Before Robert’s health worsened, Rosemary contacted an old friend of hers to appraise the piece as Helen wanted a second opinion for the insurance company. The in-depth discussion about the findings with Helen was moved back first by Robert’s death and then the attack. “Are we still looking at the same value?”

“I reread it the day before the attack to prep for the meeting that never obviously happened, and he seems to agree with the assessment Robert gave us. The statue was processed into the collections several months ago and I put in Robert’s information, but never got around to putting in Francois’ report.”

“Well, so long as the original value was imputed into the report, it’ll give us something for the insurance company.”

“Are we going to report it lost? What if they recover it?”

“Rose, I don’t mean to sound mean, but I doubt these officers are going to find the piece. Whoever has it is probably long gone by now.” Helen glanced over at her. “Unless a miracle happens.”

“Well good thing I believe in manifestation and miracles.” For the first time in what seemed like a long while, Rosemary smiled as her old humor began to shine through. The director smiled back, unable to let the infectious comment not affect her.

“We’ll see.”

---***---

Two Weeks Later

“Pike! Get in here!” Carmichael’s voice carried through the small cluster of offices their department occupied. “Pike!”

“I’m coming! Damn, give me a second!” Pike grumbled as he scurried from his office and across to hers. She wasn’t a loud person, so the excited shout she gave had everyone around her curious. As Pike entered the room, he could see his partner standing behind her desk, doing a little hop-dance. He raised an eyebrow.

“You need to look at this!” She pointed at the computer, her smile so big it nearly took over her face. He stopped because she was giggling, Carmichael never giggled. Whatever this was, it had to been good. Pike came around the desk and bent down to see what she was looking at and when his eyes landed on the screen, his eyes bugged out and his jaw dropped.

“This is one of them, isn’t it?” Carmichael asked, her voice quivering in excitement. He ran out of the office to the command center for the cold cases, his presence startling his crew. He looked over at the evidence board and ripped off a picture hanging in the middle before rifling through one of the boxes to find the corresponding file. He ran back to the office.

The picture in his hand was faded with time, that grainy look of age that pictures older pictures were taking on, but despite those flaws, the sculpture in the photo matched the one in the new alert in the NSAF database. The Cornucopia had always been breathtaking.

And it’s been missing since 1993.

The agents glanced over the dossier, reviewing the piece to try and discover how this priceless Russian artifact made its way to what looks like a small museum in Western Michigan. Neither had reviewed the original case file closely and both felt their jaws dropping as they read further and further into its history:

A rare example of the early Ukrainian Avant Garde art movement, The Cornucopia was created by Artem Chumak, a well-known artist from Odessa. Commissioned by the then-governor of the country as a gift to Czar Nicolas II in 1907, the piece was designed to showcase the entirety of the Ukraine in a single moment. Because the country was known for its agriculture, Chumak chose to use the image of the cornucopia as his inspiration.

The piece is made of bronze and inlaid with the following precious gemstones:

Siberian diamond

Ural sapphire

Ural ruby

Ural jade

Russian emerald

Russian opal

Ukrainian pearl

Upon the fall of the Russian empire in 1917, Dowager Empress Maria Feodorovna Romanov took the piece along with several others from the royal art collection when she fled Russia. She remained owner of the piece until 1920, when she sold it to the Grand Duke of Luxembourg.

In turn, the Grand Duke loaned the piece to the National Museum of History and Art and it remained with the museum until the outbreak of World War II. The ducal family took the piece back, along with several others to protect the collection from the advancement of the Nazis.

Unfortunately, the move did little good and much of the museum’s collection, including the pieces stored in the ducal family home, were taken by the Nazis, with intention of destroying them as part of the Germanization of the annexed country.

The pieces remained missing until 1949, when a team from the Monuments, Fine Arts, and Archives program (a.k.a. the Monument Men), recovered the stolen collections in a cellar in Hamburg and returned them to their respective homes. The Cornucopia was returned to the museum and was on display until the ducal family attempted to sell the piece in 1965. The sale failed and the family remained owners until the piece was loaned to the Luxembourg-American Cultural Museum in the U.S. in 1992.

In 1993, the piece was stolen from the museum and reported to the FBI’s Art Theft Squad days later. The piece has yet to be recovered despite the best attempts of the team.

Pike looked at Carmichael and they grinned at each other. While it being reported as missing didn’t mean that they had found it, it did mean that this cold case was heating up.

“Do you think we found our key?” He didn’t want to sound hopeful, but he had to admit he was optimistic that they were much closer to solving this case. The evidence they had been sifting through meticulously was painting a picture, but like a jigsaw puzzle, they were still missing pieces that brought it all together.

“I think we have.” Carmichael replied. They grinned at each other.

“Whose turn is it to go and do the interview?”

“Mine, but could you do it? Marty is out of town on business this week and I can’t leave Dinah alone.” She rarely asked to trade like this, but Pike held up his hands in understanding. They smiled, grateful they were partnered up, their work relationship had always been a smooth one.

“Sure, what could possibly happen in Michigan?”

They laughed as they started to walk to the command center.

---***---

Rosemary and Banana walked into the house, both exhausted from the day, the museum’s annual fall field trip event a cacophony of noise and excitement. The program had been exactly what Rosemary needed – something that distracted her from everything that had happened over the last month. Her stomach hurt all day from her laughter as young kids swarmed the museum in their Halloween costumes.

As she hung up her coat, she caught something out of the corner of her eye on the kitchen table. Walking over, Rosemary immediately recognized Fern’s loopy handwriting.

Hey sweetie, probate hasn’t cleared yet, but I heard word it should within the month. Not to jinx it, but welcome to Saugatuck – its’ about time! I’m also including some keys to Robert’s safety deposit boxes for safekeeping. You can’t open them until the probate has cleared, so don’t get ahead of yourself! Love you, ae-in. Always. -F

“Oh, thank god.” She huffed as she opened the bulky envelope, dumping out various keys and paperwork, including the deed to the house and the store. She had an underlying fear that something would happen, and Robert’s wishes would have been overturned and she would get nothing. “Looks like we’re here for the time being, Baba!”

Rosemary read through the papers and picked up her phone to call Fern. For the next hour, the two women chatted about the changes, what she needed to do to register ownership with the state, and more. After they said their good-byes, Rosemary pulled her jacket on and patted Banana on the head as she left the house. It was dark now, but she knew the path through the cemetery and trudged up the hill towards Robert’s grave with no problem.

“You know, I’m certain you chose this spot for some reason or another, but I think it’s to punish me for not getting enough exercise.” She groused at the polished granite, wondering how she made this walk as often as she did, and it still robbed her of her breath. She was out of shape.

Robert’s cheeky grin beamed from the porcelain cameo embedded into the stone. She had never seen anything like it, but he had told her it was common among Eastern European communities. He described how they used this horribly unflattering photo for his aunt Ionna’s cameo and that he vowed he’d choose his own rather than leave it to his relatives to decide.

She sat down on the damp ground and settle in. She was still visiting the cemetery daily and while she didn’t cry as much as she had in the beginning, her throat always felt painful after she left. Wrapping the coat around her tightly she sighed.

“You missed our field trip day. I know you loved volunteering for it and the kids who remembered you from last year asked where you were.” She smiled. “I told them you were attending as a ghost and that they couldn’t see you. I think they believed me.

“I don’t know what strings you pulled up on that cloud of yours, but Fern thinks the probate will clear next month. I’m glad, this whole process has been a pain and thank you for not making me go through it. I’d give up and just die if Fern weren’t in charge. My landlord was mad I’m breaking my lease, but I know you’re excited, you always hated that place.” She sighed as a wave of sadness washed over her.

“I miss you.” Her voice crackled with tears. “I miss you so much, Robert! I hate that you’re gone. I hate that! I hate this! And I failed you! They still haven’t found the statue and I contacted the FBI and I haven’t heard anything, and I don’t know what to do!”

She cried harder, her ribs hurting as if the pain she experienced weeks ago was still fresh. She gripped her sides as she continued to sob. She was tired and everything that had happen in the month and a half since Robert died was catching up with her. Rosemary sat in the cold evening for hours and let her sadness out. When she finally left, the exhaustion she felt forced her straight to bed when she arrived at the house. In a bit of mercy, she slept a dreamless sleep for once.

---***---

“Good morning.” The deep voice caused Marquetta to turn from the display case she was working on. A tall man with brown hair and a kind smile stood at the front desk. She watched as Bob ambled over to welcome him. She couldn’t hear their conversation after that, but she kept a subtle watch on the interaction as the two men talked. The stranger smiled again and walked past her towards the stairs and she watched up trudge up each step until he was out of sight.

“You aren’t being very subtle.” Bob’s voice sounded behind her and Marquetta jumped at the noise. She felt herself grow hot, grateful her dark skin hid the blush rushing across her cheeks. She turned to look at Bob, who was grinning at her.

“Who was that?” She tried to keep her voice steady.

“Some FBI agent wanting to talk to Rosemary.”

“FBI?” Marquette frowned before her eyebrows shot up. “FBI! Oh my god! They’re here!”

“Don’t shout. It’s rude.”

“No, Bob! Rosemary reported that statue that got stolen to the FBI! That means they know about it! They’re here for that!”

“Does that mean they’ll find the men who hurt her?” He sounded hopeful at the idea. Even if he thought her manners were lacking, Bob was deeply upset that Rosemary had been hurt the way she had been. If this young agent can help find her attackers, he was all for it.

“I bet they do if they find the statue.” The two stopped talking when Rosemary and Banana entered the building. She looked up and felt awkward when she realized they were staring at her.

“Um, is something wrong?” She sounded unsure of herself and Bob got angry, realizing that these men didn’t just rob the museum of this ugly statue, it robbed Rosemary of her self-assurance.

“Never, Rose. There is an agent from the FBI in your office. Marquetta says you contacted them.” She startled, not believing that her reporting the stolen item would bring them to her front door. They were just a small history museum in Michigan, not the Detroit Institute of Art or the Smithsonian. She figured she’d get an email or a call, but never a real agent.

“They’re here? Really?” Her eyes lit up when Bob nodded. She started to laugh because she didn’t know what else to do. Marquetta walked over to hug her and the physical contact help to ground her.

“He’s good looking, too.” Marquetta whispered in her ear. Rosemary pulled back at the comment. “Like really good looking. His butt is cute.”

The two women giggled at the comment and hugged again. Picking up the leash she dropped, the curator and her furry companion went towards the stairs, hope beginning to bubble in her chest. Maybe she hadn’t failed Robert after all, she thought. When she reached the third floor, she stopped to catch her breath before walking down to her office.

When she stepped into the doorway, she saw him standing there, looking at her walls. She couldn’t see his face, but everything about his presence radiated kindness – something she hadn’t expected from an FBI agent. When he turned to look at her as she cleared her throat, his face lit up in a smile and she couldn’t help but smile back. For the first time in weeks, she felt safe.

“I’m Special Agent Marcus Pike.” He held out his hand to her. She took it with her customary firm grip.

“I’m Rosemary Carter. Welcome to Fort Jamison.”

#marcus pike #Agent Marcus Pike #marcus pike x reader #Pedro Pascal #pedro pascal x reader #fanfic #the mentalist

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antivirus-mh-au · 3 years

Text

Antivirus - Chapter 3

TW: Discussions of homophobia, angst Ships: Jam Chapter 1 here Chapter 2 here Ao3 link

If you like this, please leave a like, reblog, or send me an ask! It encourages me so much.

He could already tell sleep wasn’t happening tonight.

Tim sat with his legs dangling out the side doors of his van. His fingers ached for a second cigarette, but he’d reached his personal limit for the night. If he smoked again, he’d run out before dawn, and that was as bad for his health as rescuing people. He was the prize of a race between death by cancer and the Operator. However his life ended, it wasn’t going to be pretty.

He’d parked in the outer edges of a Walmart. If he’d planned on sleeping, he would’ve gone inside, bought a few things, let the manager know he was hanging around for the night. But this was just another stop in a road trip that never ended. One way or another, tonight he’d get back on the road, and drive until his body had enough.

But where would he go? Up north, or east, towards Alabama?

He took off his glasses and rubbed the space between his eyes. Most people didn’t know he wore contacts, but then again, most people didn’t stick around long enough in his life to ask. The last time anyone actually found out was Jay. The look on his face when he saw Tim in glasses… Even now, Tim’s face broke into a smile at the memory.

Jay… Tim put his glasses back on. Picking up the tablet sitting next to him, Tim flipped through a few apps he’d left open until he got to the one he wanted. He glanced up, eyes scanning the parking lot. In the distance, someone laughed, a car door slammed, people walked back to their cars with their carts full of bags. Tim looked back to the photos.

Meredith had sent all of them, so she said. Said there might be more on the flash drive she was sent, but she wasn’t comfortable connecting it to her computer and finding out. Once he found a spot to claim as his headquarters, he’d have her send it to him. But there were enough photos to prove the sender’s point. Enough to make him feel sick to his stomach.

They were taken from a distance, some zoomed in by the taker, stalker style. Probably on a phone of some kind. He wasn’t an expert in analyzing photos and he didn’t have anyone that could help with that. Didn’t matter, the content was clear enough.

Alex standing at a crosswalk, one hand on the strap of his backpack slung over his shoulder. Alex sitting on a park bench, his eyes closed in pain or sorrow. Alex in front of a row of canned soup, looking almost confused. A little older, a little thinner, gray hair on his temples and stubble coating his chin, but it was Alex. It could only be Alex.

None of the photos gave a clear look at Alex’s neck. Should he be grateful for that?

So… somehow, Alex… Survive wasn’t the word. Tim felt the life going out of Alex that miserable day, felt his heart stop pumping and saw the eyes behind the glasses glaze over in death. There was no surviving that. Unless he’d hallucinated the whole thing, but, no, he wasn’t going to consider that. He’d killed Alex. He’d murdered Alex. And now, he was alive again.

Tim shuddered. Could It have done this? The Operator was powerful beyond belief, but did It have control over life and death?

Mysteries of how he came back aside, it was definitely Alex in the photos. The ones supposedly showing Jay, though...

He looked at all of them. Really, he stared at all of them, lingering over the slightly grainy photos. They were taken just like the ones of Alex, but somehow, they felt even more… secretive. As if the photographer tried to hide instead of being subtle about what they were doing. They were clear enough, though.

Clear enough to convince Tim it wasn’t Jay.

Jay was untouched. The same weight, the same hair, the same face, without grays or wrinkles. A man in his youth, the so-called prime of his life, somewhere in his mid-twenties. The clothes were different, his green jacket replaced by a black one, his hat gone from his head. And no cameras.

… He looked… happy. Even in the pictures he wasn’t smiling in, the light shone out through his eyes. His clothes were often wrinkled or dirty, his shoes old or secondhand, but it didn't seem to matter to him. Jay stood without tension in his body, arms loose, head held high. As if nothing had ever happened to him. As if he hadn't bled out slowly in an abandoned building, all alone.

Tim twisted around and reached, setting the tablet on the small table that folded out from the walls of his van. Turning his back on the night, he crawled inside his home and slammed the doors shut behind him.

Modifying this van had taken him years, working on and off in between cases. Now it was a pretty comfortable place to live. A kitchen with fridge, range and sink, a bed that folded out into a couch, a small table, and all the storage space he could need, not that he needed much. It would fit two people comfortably, but he didn't need it to take care of anyone but himself.

Next to his tablet was a book he'd bought from the library he'd visited earlier in the day, some cheap fiction novel. Tim had both bookmarks inside it, waiting to be read when he had the time. Like now. Sitting down on the couch, he opened to the first page, but his mind drifted.

"I wasn't as good a mother to him as I should've been," Meredith had said. "My love had limits, even though I didn't know it at the time."

He was used to this, the painful stories told without him asking for them. Being the last resort for a lot of loved ones, they treated him like a confidant as much as a private investigator. They needed to talk about it. They needed someone to tell them it would be okay. Tim was okay being that person, but it was different when he knew the missing people himself.

But Meredith didn't know that.

"I know it seems impossible," she'd said, "but I'd recognize Jay and Alex no matter what disguise they wore. They were both my sons. It's definitely them in the photos. It can't be anyone but them."

"Mrs. Frederickson," he'd started, but his first sentence died on his lips. "I have no reason to doubt you," he lied, "but why do you think this is something I can help you with?"

Meredith inhaled. "No one else will take this job. I tried five different companies. They refused because of the infamy of the Marble Hornets videos. And the note in the package…"

She looked down, bit her lip, just like Jay did ten years before.

"It said you were the only one that could help."

Tim blinked the memories away. He glanced at the book in his hands, and tossed it aside. Reading wasn't happening tonight. Sleeping wasn't happening tonight. What was going to happen tonight?

Outside the van, the trees shifted in the hot Louisiana wind. Cars cruised the highway. Lights blocked out the stars.

I would know him anywhere, she'd said. But if it wasn't Jay, he'd be dragging a complete stranger into a hell that most people couldn't imagine. Even if he kept It away, It would have plenty of time to ruin this man's life before he could save him.

Just like he couldn't save the actual Jay.

I can’t do this, he thought.

I have to do this, he thought.

He yanked his phone from his pocket and unlocked it. Meredith’s number was already saved, and it wasn’t too late. Two rings, and she picked up.

“Mrs. Fredrickson?” His tone didn’t give away the way his thoughts raced through his head. “Thank you for your patience. I’ve decided to take your case. No,” he cut her off. “No, you don’t need to pay me in advance-” He jerked. “That’s - that’s far more than my rates - I really don’t need that much - yes I will absolutely let you know once I’ve established a base in the area - Breathe, Mrs. Fredrickson-”

The conversation ended with joyful tears from Meredith, Tim being only too grateful to hang up. He stared at his phone until the screen went black again, heart hurting. What a liar he was. He wasn’t going to find Jay. He was doing this to find Alex.

Once he was in Alabama, it would be easy to confirm the identity of the doppelganger in the photos, without actually speaking to him. Assuming the Operator didn’t sense Tim’s interest and attempt to infect him just to be an asshole. But Alex? That was definitely him. The age, the wear and tear on his body, the stupid fucking glasses - Tim would know him anywhere.

Jay was dead. Alex wasn’t. And it was Alex’s fucking fault Jay was dead, it was Alex that pulled the trigger and Alex that taunted him for not being able to save him. It was Alex who Tim saw in his nightmares even now, shooting Jay, over and over. The more he thought about it, the more his blood burned. How could Alex live knowing what he’d done? What right did Alex have to live when Jay didn’t?

Meredith had forgiven Alex. Tim wasn’t ready to.

Tim took a deep breath, calming his fury. He’d deal with that when the time came. Right now, he had to drive. He had a long way to go back to Alabama.

… He hadn’t really thought about that. That doing this meant going back to Alabama. Of course he knew what it meant to take this case. He had to go back to Alabama to do it. But once he left Alabama, he swore he’d never go back, no matter what happened. Even if the world ended, he’d never return. It was there, Rosswood was there, the memories that stood intact, buried forever in the walls of the buildings they’d visited, were there.

The Operator was stronger in Alabama than anywhere else in the world, far as Tim could tell. It seemed centered in Rosswood. Within that state, It could seemingly do anything. Would his gift, his ability to repel it, work within the state borders? What if he couldn’t protect anyone there - including himself?

He could be walking into a trap.

But Jay…

Leaning back on the cushion behind him, Tim closed his eyes.

“My love had limits,” Meredith said.

“What do you mean?” Tim had asked.

Meredith took a breath, and her eyes, so much like Jay’s, met Tim’s.

“Jay was - is gay,” she said. “We knew it at the time, but we didn’t want to believe it. We were wealthy people, we thought we were Christians, we had standards… We thought he was going through a college phase, the kind a lot of young adults go through when they’re free from their parents. But looking back…” She shook her head. “I was wrong. What I did, what I believed, it was wrong. I want to apologize to him for it, if I can. If he’ll let me.”

Jay is gay. The words hit hard as a punch to the chest. Pieces of the past he hadn’t known were out of place lined up. Little things Jay did, little looks, little words, little winces and cringes and pained expressions at the things people said or did. Things he hadn’t even thought of made sense in a way that could’ve knocked him over. How Tim kept his cool after that, he couldn’t remember. How he kept from crying, he didn’t know.

Jay is… was gay. Of course he kept that a secret from everyone, they lived in fucking Alabama. Things had improved in the past ten years, but back then, to be openly gay was to have a target on your back, for ridicule if not violence. Their college campus didn’t even allow a LGBT club, or a gay-straight alliance. It just wasn’t done. If Jay had been alive now, he would’ve thrived the way he was always supposed to.

Jay. Alive. Happy. Living in another state. Dating another man, someone other than Tim.

Had Jay felt the way for Tim, the way Tim felt for his ghost? The memories of a man he lost too soon burned strong through his life, in a way Tim for years felt he shouldn’t. Homophobia nothing, he hadn’t known Jay for very long. Was it right to feel that way for him? Did he really love Jay, or did he love the man he put together from his memories and pain? He didn’t have any answers. He tried to keep up with cases so he didn’t think about it but it looked like he wasn’t going to have a choice anymore.

Something chattered in the back of his mind, an anxious, angry, wordless voice. Tim took a deep breath, then another. He wasn’t going to think about this. This was going back in the box until he could process it. There was a long way to go from here, and the road wouldn’t be as smooth as the pavement he normally drove on.

Buckle up, he told himself as he stood and moved for the driver’s seat. This is only going to get harder from here.

---

And in the wooden seat he swayed, swayed from side to side, the tumbling words dying from his lips. The man groaned, his eyes closed behind the blindfold. He was alone in this room, no windows, one door, a chair, a table, a laptop, a microphone, himself.

He swayed, he swayed, and in the electronic silence the little tings of the assembled viewers in their little box rang out sweet as bells. It meant nothing to him, what they said, what they did, what they believed. It was enough to serve.

The man let out a moan, his voice hoarse, his lips dry and cracked. The strings were cut, the God had pulled away. Now he was alone, alone in this room with the wooden walls and floor, his breathing echoing, the light above buzzing and flickering. Where are you God? Why did you leave me? Have I done something wrong? Have I displeased you?

And like a light pouring from an open door in his mind--

Euphoria. A joy unlike anything he’d ever tasted, an endless rush of wind that swept him from his thoughts. Joy, relief, pride, and the sweet undercurrent of plans that stretched millennia and into realms that his human mind would never understand. It was God, speaking to him, letting him feel Its emotions, letting him taste the infinity of Its existence. In this moment, he could feel Heaven wrapping warm tendrils around his robed body, carrying his soul free, just for this moment.

No rapture would ever be this wonderful.

Blood poured from his closed eyes, his nose and ears, dripping onto his folded hands, onto the folding table. But there was no pain. There was only joy. His God felt joy.

He let the words fall from his lips, even though he did not understand.

“He’s coming.”

And a darkness swept over him, the joy lulling him into the night. The Neophyte fell from his chair onto the cold floor, unconscious and unaware of the shockwaves now shooting through his audience.

#marble hornets #marble hornets fanfiction #mh antivirus au #mh fanfiction #mh tim wright #mh tim #marble hornets tim

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whatcouldgowrong-ohthat · 4 years

Text

Us and Andie Ch. 9

Summary: Bucky works as an Avenger because it’s what’s right. He feels he has sins he’ll never be able to make up for, but he’ll spend the rest of his life trying. However, his life takes an unexpected turn when he comes across Andie, the daughter of recently divorced Y/N. The life he had once “maintained” in hopes of surviving changes as his heart warms for a tough-as-nails nurse and her wonderful daughter.

Pairing: Bucky x Singleparent!Reader

Word Count: 3790 words

Series Masterlist - Masterlist

“Tony!”

Tony turned around, raising an eyebrow when he heard Steve shout his name. Until he saw Steve and Sam trying to catch up to a fuming Bucky. “Whoa, Manchurian Candidate,” Tony said, stumbling through holograms. “Calm down.” But Bucky would do no such thing. His left hand wrapped around Tony’s throat, lifting him in the air until Tony’s back met a wall. He squirmed, wriggling around as his hands wrapped around Bucky’s wrist. He knew he wasn’t in any genuine danger. If Bucky wanted to, he would have killed him then and there.

No, Tony was just very thoroughly stuck.

“Bucky, put him down.”

“Not until he explains why he thinks Ethan and Zemo are connected,” Bucky growled.

Tony pointed to the hand around his throat. “Hard to – “ He wheezed. “Talk when you’re…do-doing the whole choking thing, big guy.”

Bucky dropped him, earning a sigh of relief from everyone in the room. However, it wasn’t going to be that simple. Bucky stayed close, invading Tony’s space and waiting for answers. The two stared one another down as if a silent conversation was passing between the two of them.

“Should one of us say something,” Sam asked Steve.

“Not necessary.” Tony peeked around Bucky, realizing in this particular moment that he was much smaller than Bucky. Glancing at Bucky, he asked, “And are you still doing those crazy work outs?”

“Not the time, Tony.”

Tony looked at Steve with that same: “Duh, but I almost choked to death so give me a second” look. “F.R.I.D.A.Y.”

Yes, Sir.

Immediately the holograms Tony had pulled up moments before, reappeared around them. They were various things – photos of Ethan out and about, at mutant hate rallies, his resume. It was anything and everything Tony could have found on Ethan.

Bucky frowned, remembering when he had come to talk to Tony about Andie’s bedroom. “I recognize some of these photos.”

“Yeah, when Andie and Y/N started spending more time with us, I wanted to start taking a deeper look.”

“Tony,” Steve sighed. “That invaded her privacy.”

“For good reason,” Bruce pointed out, now standing in the doorway. “He was an extremely active member of Friends of Humanity.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “What’s that?”

“A mutant hate organization,” Clint spoke up. “Imagine being such a vital member only to have a kid with that same gene.”

Bucky clenched his jaw, grinding his teeth as he stared at those images. He never should have left. Hell, did Andie even know he still cared? Or did she think he dropped her as easily as Ethan had?

Steve noticed the wild look in his eyes, the fear and rage that threatened to surface. “Okay, so he’s an asshole.” Steve nodded, looking back at the images. “So why do you think he and Zemo are connected?”

“Because,” the images changed. Bucky took a step closer, the blue hue of the images lighting his face. Andie was smiling, playing with Ethan and his sons. It was several days worth of photos. In some of them, he saw Y/N in the background somewhere. She looked so… He looked at the floor for the briefest moment as the images changed again. “Ethan has been spending an awful lot of time with Andie while you guys have been away.”

Natasha frowned, pointing at the images as if they made no sense. “I thought Y/N was in charge of visitation.”

“She is. But imagine the betrayal Andie would feel if she thought her mom was keeping her from having a relationship with her dad.”

“Come on, Andie’s smarter than that,” Sam argued.

Bucky shook his head. “She’s still a kid. And she’s finally seeing something that looks like love from the guy that’s supposed to be her father. Smart or not, emotions are going to affect choices.”

The images changed again. Some of Ethan, Zemo, and another guy that none of them recognized. “I only found these photos earlier today. I’m guessing it’s when Zemo wanted me to find them.” He pointed to the third person. “That is Quentin Beck. My former employee.”

“Only you would manage to piss off an employee enough to get him to work with a terrorist,” Sam muttered.

“Sam.”

“Anyway,” Tony said, sending an appreciative look at Bucky. “I wasn’t looking into any of this to an extreme degree until they stopped coming around. That was about a week after you two left.” He walked over to his desk, picking up a file and tossing it on the table in the center of the room. Photos slid out of it, stopped by Steve’s hand. “And then earlier today, these photos were found in Andie’s room.”

“I thought it wasn’t possible to sneak into the compound.”

“It’s not supposed to be. I’ve been adjusting things, fixing it, ever since these showed up.”

Steve frowned as he turned the photos, taking a better look at them. His shoulders slumped as he picked one up and handed it to Bucky. “He’s been here this whole time.”

Bucky scowled, taking the photo. It was grainy and peeking through the windows of Y/N’s god-awful apartment. They were laughing and eating, watching some movie. It was such a personal, private moment where Y/N’s guard was completely down.

And it had been violated.

Turning the photo over, he saw the back was dated three days after he left for the mission. Written in sharpie were the words: Always forgetting to protect what’s most important.

“He sent us on some wild fucking goose chase so he could watch them?” He looked at Tony and Steve, hoping for some sort of explanation. But none of them had one. “Learn their patterns?”

Tony sighed, nodding ever so slightly. “Zemo holds grudges like nobody else.”

“When he couldn’t tear us apart using Bucky, it just came down to revenge,” Natasha spoke up, putting the pieces of the puzzle together faster than anybody else.

“So you think Ethan and Zemo are working together to…what, kill Andie and Y/N?”

Tony pressed his lips into a thin line, looking at the holograms. He glanced at Bruce, hoping the other scientist had a way to explain this. Bruce looked at the others in the room, knowing Tony needed his help. “There’s no way for us to know what their plans are for us, Andie, or Y/N. But the first and foremost thing we need to do is get Andie and Y/N and bring them here.”

Bucky didn’t need to be told twice. He was already out the door and on his way to Y/N’s apartment.

-.-.-.-.-

“You in your pj’s?” Peter called from the living room, already setting up Treasure Planet for Andie to fall asleep to. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but Andie hadn’t been herself all night. He guessed it was because she wasn’t used to Y/N going on a date, but by the time he had shown up, Y/N was already gone.

Andie came shuffling out, dressed in some thin cotton pants covered in rainbows and a too-big, black t-shirt that looked like it had been stolen from Bucky’s closet.

“Hey, ready for the movie?” Andie grabbed a water from the fridge before she joined him on the couch. Peter watched her for a moment and pressed play, frowning as he asked, “What is it, Rugrat?”

“Please, don’t call me that,” she mumbled, cuddling the pillow.

“Why not?” He tugged on her arm, pulling her over and having her rest against his side. She stayed silent as he lightly traced her arm. “You know you can talk to me about anything, right, Andie?”

She nodded, eyes fixated on the screen. “I just…Bucky used to call me ‘Rugrat’.”

Peter smiled, remembering the first time that had happened. He and Sam were watching the Rugrats movie with Andie and Bucky had been watching from the doorway. Peter would never say it out loud, but he had seen the look on Bucky’s face. The guy he thought was so cool looked like a proud parent as he watched Andie. Ever since – Bucky called her that silly nickname.

“Do you miss him?”

“I guess…”

Silence fell for a bit. Peter started tickling her, trying to get a smile and laughter out of her. It had been too long since he’d seen someone other than Ethan or Y/N get that smile out of her. She burst into a fit of giggles, trying to push away his hands as her giggles turned into raging laughter. “Stop! Stop it!”

Peter did, letting her catch her breath as she settled back into her side. “Talk to me, Andie. I thought you were happy. But every time it’s just us, you look so sad.”

Andie glanced up at him before cuddling into her pillow. “I used to sneak out all the time just…just to see them. To see the whole not-broken family thing. But…” She bit her cheek, scared of her own feelings. “Would I be a bad person if I didn’t like my dad? If I liked my brothers, but…not him?”

Peter looked down at her, eyebrows practically buried in his hairline. He was so surprised. “Not at all. Why?”

Andie shifted, watching the screen as Jim listened to his mom talk to Dr. Delbert. She thought back to earlier, when she watched her mom getting ready. Before Y/N had even noticed she was there.

Andie noticed the fingerprints on Y/N’s arm. She was applying makeup to them, hiding the dark purple color that made Andie sick to her stomach. Her mind flipped to the park – when she and Ciara had come back from getting hot cocoa. Her dad’s grip was there. That had to be what those bruises were from. The guilt that settled in her stomach made her feel sick. Why did she agree to Mom going on a double date?

“Mom?”

Andie shrugged, biting her lip. “I thought we were spending so much time with Bucky and the other Avengers and I just…I thought they were becoming our family. I thought Bucky was…” Her voice trailed off.

“I know.” He hugged her, squeezing her tight. “But being a superhero…it’s a big responsibility.”

“You’re Spiderman and you still take care of me.”

Peter’s whole body tensed as his gaze fixated on her. She said it as if it were nothing! Like she was talking about the weather! “How did you – “

“Your Spidersuit was sticking out of your backpack. Made more sense than you getting it dry-cleaned it for your ‘internship’.” She looked up at him, grinning from ear to ear. It seemed the subject of Bucky and “family” was now forgotten.

So, he looked back to the tv and lightly traced her arm, trying to calm her down enough to fall asleep. Then he could tuck her in and wait till Y/N got home. He wanted to talk to her about the Avengers and Bucky. He wanted to talk to her about what Andie had said.

However, those plans were cut short by a knock at the door. Andie and him both glanced that way before Peter rose to his feet. He looked back at Andie, neither of them expecting company. He wondered if maybe it was Bucky? But wouldn’t he have called? “Hi, can I help you,” he asked through the door. He peeked through the peephole, not recognizing the man on the other side.

“Hello, I’m here to visit an old friend. Y/N Y/L/N?”

Peter frowned, ready to open the door and tell him that Y/N wasn’t there. But when he grabbed the doorknob, that stupid “spider-tingle” went off in the back of his head. He kept the door closed, silently bolting it as he said, “It’s pretty late, man. How about you come by tomorrow?” Peter glanced at Andie, jerking his head for her to go hide in one of the other rooms.

Andie nodded, grabbing his backpack and silently taking off to her mom’s bedroom. Y/N had raised her to go over there because it was the one room that had access to the fire escape.

“I’m afraid I’ll be leaving in the morning,” the stranger’s voice said. “And I was really hoping to catch up.”

Peter silently moved across the room, watching the person jiggle the doorknob before taking off to Y/N’s room. When he got there, he heard the front door kick open. Immediately, Peter scooped Andie up in his arms and carried her onto the fire escape. “Start climbing, Andie,” he told her, closing the window. He grabbed his web-shooter, slipping it on and webbing up the window. “Only one?” He tried finding the other before realizing it had been left behind – now far away and in Queens. Groaning, he covered the last of the window and caught sight of the man walking in.

Their eyes met and immediately that spider-tingle started going haywire.

“Time to go.” Peter slipped his backpack on, grabbing his mask and pulling it over his head. He quickly picked Andie up and carried her up to the roof. “F.R.I.D.A.Y! I need you to call Mr. Stark!”

Calling Tony…

Peter crouched in front of Andie. He saw the tears in her eyes, the fear she had now that she realized what had just happened. “Okay, Andie, you’re a mutant, right?” Andie nodded, tears slipping down her cheeks as he brushed her hair back. “Hey, hey, hey, don’t cry. It’s okay. I just need to know what you can do. If it can protect you. Everything’s going to be okay.”

She pulled out of his grip, sniffling and stumbling back. Her heart was pounding in her chest. “What’s going on, Peter?”

“I don’t know. But we’re going to figure it out, okay?”

“But what if this is because of what I said about my dad?”

“No, it isn’t,” Peter assured her, shaking his head. “This has nothing to do with him. Nothing at all. But Andie, I need – “

“Hey, kid. What’s up?”

“Mr. Stark!” Peter jumped, pressing a hand against his chest. “Look, there’s some creepy guy here at Y/N’s apartment. I’m with Andie, but I have no idea what’s going on and – “

“Okay, Peter, slow down.” Peter looked back towards the fire escape, taking her to the opposite side of the roof. “Is it Andie’s dad? Ethan?”

“No. It’s someone else.” Peter looked down at Andie. In any other situation, this would be easy. Web up the guy, maybe accidentally destroy the apartment…but this was different. He had to keep Andie safe and he didn’t want to risk scarring her more than she already was. “I don’t know if he’s a big threat or not.”

“Okay, focus on getting Andie safe. I’m going to send your coordinates to Bucky. He’s already on his way. Where’s Y/N? Is she with you?”

“What? No.” Peter looked down at Andie. He saw the slight sparkle in her cheeks, the rainbow effect that came with her powers. “Y/N’s not here.”

“Then where the hell is she?”

“I’m not sure,” Peter stuttered before he saw Andie running back the way they had come. He ran after her, grabbing her arm. “Where are you going?”

“I have to get Bucky’s hat! I left it behind!” She tugged at her arm, twisting out of his grip and earning a hiss from Peter. “Please!”

“Ouch! Hey, wait! Where’d you learn that move?”

Andie glared at him, moving to take off again before Peter picked her up.

“Peter? Kid? Is everything okay?”

“Um – Well, you see…” Peter tried to find the right words, stumbling back. He tripped, landing on his ass as Andie collided into his chest. His wrist slammed into the room and he heard the familiar crack that sounded like it came from his web-shooter. He coughed, moving his hand to his ribcage. The wind was knocked out of him. “Andie, we can get you another hat. I gotta keep you safe.”

Andie ignored him, but Peter’s grip was stronger. Sparing a glance at his web-shooter, he silently cursed. There was no way he could use it now. He sat up, jumping when he saw the man that had broken into Andie’s house. He stepped over the edge of the roof, walking closer to the pair. “Um…Mr. Stark? How long do you think until Bucky gets here?”

“We’re on our way, kid. Just stay put.”

“I don’t know that that’s an option anymore.

“I don’t really appreciate all of this extra drama,” the stranger told Peter. He glanced at Andie, noticing the way more of her skin was shimmering and glowing. When Ethan told him that Andie was a mutant, he believed him. But seeing it in person, he was curious what her abilities were. Were they useful?

Peter’s gaze shifted to the gun in the guy’s hand. “Fair. I mean, who likes drama? I certainly don’t.”

“Now is not the time to play dorky neighborhood Spider-man, Peter! Get to safety! Now!”

He hurried to his feet, moving Andie behind him and ignoring Tony in his ear. All Peter could think about was having to buy time for Bucky to get there. “But I think it’d definitely cut out some of that drama if you told me who you are.”

“Zemo.” He held up the gun, aiming for Peter’s head. “Helmut Zemo.”

-.-.-.-.-

Scott breathed a sigh of relief when they finally hit intermission. This was definitely not his cup of tea. He had no idea how Hank and Janet could stand these things. Rising to his feet, he put on a brave smile for Hope. She smiled at him sympathetically, knowing he was struggling. “I appreciate the effort,” she teased, placing a small kiss on his shoulder.

“Seriously, am I the only person who has no idea what she is saying,” he whispered in her ear, a slight panic to his voice as they exited the theatre.

Hope laughed, shaking her head. “No, you are not alone. But aren’t you enjoying this? At least a little?”

“I – Oh, look! Y/N!” Scott grinned when he saw her familiar face through the crowd. During the time she and Andie had spent at the compound, he had gotten a chance to trade ‘single parent’ stories with her. He had missed having someone around that related to that, but he figured she’d been busy between work and Andie. A place like this didn’t really seem her style. And judging by the uncomfortable smile on her face, he was right. Who was that guy she was with?

Scott pulled Hope along, wanting to get a chance to say hi to Y/N, ask how she and Andie were doing. “Should I be jealous that you’re trying this hard to talk to her,” Hope teased.

“No, we just have that whole ‘single parent’ friendship is all,” Scott assured her just as Y/N turned upon hearing his voice.

“Scott!” That uncomfortable smile of hers finally looked real, natural. “Hey, how are you?” The two hugged and Hope noticed how her shoulders relaxed. Who was Y/N with that would make her so tense?

“I’m good. I didn’t think operas were your thing though.”

Y/N laughed ever so slightly. “It…isn’t. Really.”

“So what?” Scott glanced at Hope before looking at Y/N. “It’s Bucky’s?”

Y//N flushed, turning pink from her roots to her collarbone. “Uh…Bucky and I were never…a thing. You know that, right?”

Scott’s eyes grew and he stuttered around a reply, immediately regretting that he had managed to put his foot in his mouth. He needed a better filter. “I’m sorry – I just thought that it was one of those things that was sort of destined to happen.”

Y/N’s uncomfortable laugh and smile were back as she hugged herself, shrugging. “Guess not. I haven’t heard from him in a month and I…” She sighed, fingers twisting around her locket. “I have a life to live.”

Hope glanced down at her arm, noticing something that Scott didn’t. However, before she had a chance to speak up, they were joined by the rest of Y/N’s group.

“Y/N?” She flinched ever so slightly, closing her eyes for the briefest moment. “Who are your friends?”

Y/N smiled easily, looking from Scott and Hope to this stranger. She was at a loss for words and Scott was more than aware of that. He held out a hand. “I’m Scott. This is my girlfriend, Hope.”

“Quentin Beck. And this is Ethan and his wife, Lori.”

Scott recognized Ethan’s and Lori’s names from conversations with Y/N, but kept a straight face, refusing to react. He wouldn’t put Y/N on the spot. But immediately, a red flag was raised. He looked at Y/N, offering her a reassuring smile before starting to say, “So is this – “

The lights flashed above them, followed by the signal that intermission was almost over. Scott watched Y/N carefully as Quentin whispered something in her ear, taking her hand and tucking it in the crook of his elbow. “We should probably go find our seats. It was nice meeting you,” Quentin said, charming smile back in place. He and Ethan led Y/N and Lori back inside and Scott watched every step. When Y/N looked back at him, he recognized that look in her eyes.

“You need to call your friends,” Hope whispered. “Her arm is covered in bruises.”

Scott looked down at Hope, kissing the top of her head. He whispered into her hair, “I was thinking the exact same thing.” He pulled out his phone as Hope told her parents to go find their seats. He turned away, listening to the phone dial. “Come on, pick up. Pick up, pick up.”

“Scott? Can I help you?”

“Cap!” Scott took a shaky breath, trying to calm his nerves.

“Yeah. You called me.”

Scott winced. He might have been fan-boying a bit too hard. “Look, I’m here at the Met and I ran into Y/N. She’s with her ex husband and some creepy-charming dude. Like I don’t quite know how to explain him, but he is eerily charming in that sleezy sort of way.”

“Hey, Scott. Slow down. We’re actually trying to get ahold of Y/N right now. I need you to keep an eye on her and if you can, get her away from those guys. Alright? You said you’re at the Met?”

“Yeah. We just finished intermission.” Scott looked back at where he had seen Y/N. “She already went back inside.”

“Well, Sam doesn’t call you Tic Tac for nothing, right?” Scott grinned from ear to ear, already ready to grab the suit tucked away in his pocket. He looked at Hope who was already back at his side, listening in on the conversation. “Sam and I are on our way. Think you can handle this?”

Nodding to her, he told Steve, “We’re on it, Cap.”

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

@buckyssoul

@amnahs9695

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@lets--be-honest

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#bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #us and andie #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes au #marvel au

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the-omni-princess · 4 years

Text

All Yours

Author: @the-omni-princess

Summary: It’s simple really. You have a secret, and there’s an infamous Stark party. What could go wrong?

Prompt: Hyacinth – Jealousy / constancy of love, fertility

Word Count: 1.7K

Pairing: Bucky x Avenger!reader

Warnings: fluff, alcohol, surprises

A/N:

Slowly making my way through all my writing challenges lol

This is for @writingsoftheloser ’s #vi1.5kmeaningschallenge !!!!

[My Masterlist]

----

Dressed to the nines, dripping in jewels, and with a dress with way too many slits in it to still be considered a dress, you felt a bit self-conscious while walking into the Stark Party alone. Your hair was braided back, with small white chrysanthemum flowers tucked into the weaved hair. The slits in the dress showed off your glowing skin, and if you turned too fast, someone could catch a glimpse of the navy colored lace corset and panties you were wearing underneath – a gift from Natasha, she deemed this lace pair as the ‘dick me down lingerie’ – yet despite all this, you pushed past the burning edges of self-doubt creeping in, in favor of tilting your chin up higher and walking with confidence.

What was this party celebrating again? Honestly, you couldn’t be sure. All you knew was that most of the team was off-site for the past month, holed up in the Amazonian Jungle, with absolutely no contact, and that this party was made too far in advance to cancel. Both you and Natasha had stayed behind since the mission required more brute force, and well because Natasha had a broken wrist.

Despite the wrist brace, Natasha still looked stunning in a tightfitting red dress. You both sipped on your martinis, bored after having smiled and waved to every dignitary in the room. The mission was supposed to be over a week ago, which had you antsy and fitted with nervous. Ever the spy, Natasha noticed. “Babe, calm down. They’ll be absolutely fine.”

Finishing up your virgin martini and setting the glass down on the bar, you nodded. “I know, I’m just worried. You know how these missions go, a few bullet wounds aren’t enough to make them go home, especially Bucky and Steve.”

She shrugged, “Bucky will be absolutely fine with Steve watching over him-“

“Oh, we both know Steve’s more likely to be shot.”

“Not helping, y/n/n,” The redhead rolled her eyes, finishing up her own drink before waving down the bartender. “Either way, forget boys, how’s the new kitten doing?”

“Alpine? Oh, that cutie’s fine. Always nosy, pushing stuff off counters, but other than that she’s a little angel. Clearly, I’m not her favorite parent, but she has to live with me so,” you shrugged.

Natasha smirked, taking in your fruity cocktail as she started sipping her own. “Is that the new drink Wanda was going on about?”

Knowingly, you took a sip, letting the cherry and mango flavors sit on your tongue. “Yeah, but get your own,” you glared at her. She grinned wickedly, and you realized your plan was slowly going down the drain. “Nat, don’t even think about it,” you warned.

The former assassin was much too quick for you, grabbing your drink and taking a sip before you could protest. Her face soured, before giving you the drink back. “Flavor’s not bad, but a virgin cocktail? Who are you and what have you done to my favorite techie?”

You couldn’t hold back your giggles as you finished your drink. “I’m cutting back on alcohol.”

“Yeah, sure. I’ll believe that’s the reason,” she gave you a look, making your guts flip. She couldn’t possibly have known, hell, you made this plan only a few weeks ago. Nat was too smart for your own good.

As you thought of a coverup, a voice interrupted your conversation. “Excuse me, Bartender? Whiskey on the rocks for me, and two cocktails for the ladies.” A man had appeared beside you, Natasha on the opposite side of you, looking just as repulsed as you.

“No thanks,” you pushed the new cocktail to Nat. “I’m tapped out.” You gave the man your best ‘please leave me alone I’m only being polite, but I’ll punch you’ face. Nat wisely didn’t mention your lack of interest in the free drink, something you would usually partake in.

“Come on, loosen up a bit. It’s only a drink,” the man said, most likely thinking that was a good way to ‘charm’ you. Ha, not likely.

“And I declined,” you snarled, quickly losing patience.

“I’m only trying to be nice-“ The man tried to reach for your wrist

“And the lady said no. Get lost,” a new voice appeared, a metal hand latching onto the arm that tried to grab you. He shoved the man away, rather roughly, but you truly did not mind that at all. Bucky placed himself between you and the man, a scowl on his face as the man walked off grumbling, his metaphoric tail between his legs.

“You’re home early,” you tried, nonchalantly, Nat rolling her eyes beside you. “And I had that.”

“Just got back,” Bucky turned towards you, softening as he took in what you were wearing. He himself was in a leather jacket and black jeans, a small cut on his forehead, but other than that he looked perfectly fine. “Couldn’t wait to see ya, baby,” he grinned, hands coming to rest on your hips as he pulled you closer. The petname made your spine tingle, but the fact was he couldn’t possibly have known either, so you stayed silent. Out of the corner of your eyes you noticed Natasha most definitely giving you a look. Well, that took longer than you thought it would. “And I get here, only to have my best girl being hit on by some rookie agent.” His tone made you look back up at him, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Was someone jealous?” you teased, raising an eyebrow.

“Maybe a little,” he conceded, shooting you a goofy smile. “Can’t help it. I missed you,” he tilted your head up, smiling as he captured your lips in his. Soft, and gentle, with an underlining power and authority and dominance. God, you missed him more than you care to admit, but that might just be the hormones talking.

You gently pulled away, “I missed you too.”

He tugged on your hands, leading you to the dance floor, drink and Natasha forgotten. You made a mental note to apologize to her in the morning. Bucky pulled you closer, gently swinging the two of you back and forth to the music.

Quiet, at peace. It took a few songs before you were ready to break the magic. By then, the only people remaining were the rest of your found family. Tony, Steve, Bruce, and Clint were all on the sofas, nursing drinks while making jokes about the mission, which must have gone well. Natasha and Wanda were standing by the bar, giving you little funny looks. Oh, they most definitely figured you out. Sam was beside Maria, flirting, and currently striking out, even though Maria had already agreed to a date next week with him. Thor and Vision were both in towards the kitchen, figuring out the new appliance you had installed while they were gone. It felt warm and fuzzy. Like everything right had finally happened in your life.

Home. It felt like home.

“Bucky,” you murmured, gently pulling your head up to look at him.

“Yes, Fiancé mine?” He grumbled, softly pulling you back against him, making you giggle.

“I have some news I wanted to share with you and the team.” That most certainly got his attention.

He raised an eyebrow, pulling away from you. “Should I be concerned?”

You shrugged, “Probably,” you admitted with a teasing smile.

He chuckled, “Well let’s tell them.”

You shook your head, “This is me telling you as well, go sit, I’ll be right back.” You pulled away, rushing back to your room to grab what you needed.

When you got back, the entire team was surrounding the sofas and chairs in the main living area, Bucky sitting beside Steve with a space on his other side for you. You stood in front of them and took a deep breath. “So… Did anyone notice the new flowers in the kitchen?” you started.

Multiple heads turned to glance at them. “Blue and Pink Hyacinths?” Wanda supplied, knowing your small obsession with flowers.

“Yep. Does anyone know what they mean?” Another game of yours. Even the white chrysanthemums in your hair had the meaning of loyal love and truth. Every flower had a meaning, and you loved using them for your own games.

“Oh! I know!” Steve looked excited, he usually couldn’t remember which flowers meant what, but always admired the ones you planted in your garden upstairs, usually helping you if Bucky was on a mission. “They mean jealousy or constancy of love!” He grinned, making you smile.

“Yep! But there’s one more meaning.” You whispered, handing Bucky the small envelope that had been burning a hole in your hands since you picked it up.

He gave you a confused look but opened it, nonetheless, completely trusting in you. “What’s this?” He murmured, looking at the small grainy photo.

“It also means fertility,” you supplied, waiting for who would connect it first.

It was clear by the high pitch in her voice, Natasha put all the clues together first. “You’re pregnant! That’s why you weren’t drinking alcohol!” You simply nodded, gauging Bucky’s reaction.

His eyes widened, eyes shooting from you to the picture and back and back again. “We-… we’re having a kid?” He mumbled, slightly confused and waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“Yeah-“ your voice cracked, and his eyes locked onto yours at the sound, taking in both of your teary-eyed looks. “We’re having a kid, Bucky,” you finished.

He leaped forward, dropping the photo as he pulled you into a tight hug, laughing as the two of you cried and smiled. “We’re having a kid!” He couldn’t stop the goofy smile that lit up his features as you clung to each other. The rest of the team offered congratulations, smiling as Tony making sex jokes much to Steve’s annoyance. Bucky ignored him, holding you closer, smiling as you kissed and stayed attached to him. “I’m going to be a dad…” he murmured.

You smiled, nodding, “The best dad in the world,” you ran your hand through his shorter hair, burying yourself in his arms. “We’re going to start our own family.”

Home. Family. That’s where you were.

---

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lilacmoon83 · 3 years

Text

Mysterious Fathoms Below

Also on Fanfiction.net and A03

Chapter 10: Peril in Portland

Their cross country trip so far was a rousing success. They had hit many lakes and beaches along the way and the morning after they arrived in Portland, Snow and David took them to a secluded beach they had found a couple hours from the city. It was their first time seeing the Pacific ocean and they were all very excited. After spending the day together as a family, they headed back to Portland and to a park that was near the office David would be working.

Snow kissed him tenderly, as they prepared to say goodbye for a while.

"Go on...we'll be fine, but we'll miss you," Snow assured him.

"I'll miss you too," he said, as he hugged the kids and headed for the office. Snow sat back down with her book, while the kids ran around the park and Emma joined her.

"Hey Mom...can I go get some snacks for me and the squirts?" Emma asked. Snow noticed that there was a convenience store down the block and nodded.

"Okay...but be careful and try to get more than just sugar laden stuff," Snow said, as she handed her some money and shifted the baby in her lap. Emma smiled and headed down the block, while her brothers and sisters continued to play. Jackson whimpered a little and she dug his teething ring out of his back.

"Oh that tooth is giving you trouble, isn't it baby," she cooed, as he watched onto the teething ring.

"Hey Mom...shouldn't Emmy be back by now?" Ben asked. He was right and she started to get concerned.

"Go round up the twins and Astrid. We can all walk down there together," she said. Ben did as she asked and she put Jackson and Astrid in the double stroller, as they left the park together.

Emma browsed the snack aisle and put a few things in her basket. She smiled, as she picked out some gummy bears. Astrid loved gummy bears. She looked ahead and noticed a boy stuffing a box of pop-tarts in his jacket. He turned and saw that she saw what he was doing, but they were both stunned.

"Bae?" she asked in disbelief.

"Emma...how are you here?" he asked.

"Nevermind that...I'll get that for you," she replied, as she grabbed the box from him.

"You don't have to do that," he insisted.

"Do you have any idea how long me and my family have been looking for you?" she asked.

"Why?" he asked, as she picked up a few other things and waited, as she paid for them. Once she took the sack, they exited the store and she handed him the box. He tore open a package and started eating hungrily.

"Because...we thought of you as family and wanted to help you," Emma replied.

"No...you want me to go back to Storybrooke with you and to my Dad!" he cried.

"Would that be so bad?" she asked.

"Yes! Do you know what he did?" he asked.

"Yes...we have the book, remember?" she replied.

"He abandoned me!" Neal insisted.

"And then made sure the curse happened so he could find you," Emma replied.

"And ruined a bunch of people's lives in the process!" he cried.

"But he told my parents that he knew he made a mistake! I mean, doesn't he deserve a second chance?" Emma asked. He was about to retort when two men approached them.

"Not a peep there lass and start moving," the man said, as he showed her a gun in his coat.

"You too, young man," the other man said, as he also showed his weapon.

"Who the hell are you two?" Neal asked.

"Keep walking, boy...or you'll get lead poisoning," Jasper hissed.

"Emma!" Snow called, as she approached with the kids. Horace smirked.

"Well...you've made this really easy for us," he said, as he grabbed Ben by the arm and held a firm hand on him.

"You'll follow along with all the brats, beautiful or I'll pick a few of them off," he threatened.

"Excuse me?" Snow asked dangerously.

"Do it...or I rip that necklace off your pretty neck and all of Portland will know your secret," he warned. She gasped, wondering how he could know, so she followed them, afraid they would make good on their threat or hurt one of her children.

Once they arrived at an abandoned dock, they were all tied up, except for the little ones, who were frightened by now.

"Shut that brat up!" Jasper snapped, as she did her best to soothe him, even with tied hands.

"He's frightened...lower your voice!" Snow snapped, as Horace looked through her phone.

"Okay...we're going to call the hubby now and then the Madam will be along to meet her catch," Horace said.

"Who is the Madam?" Neal asked.

"Nevermind kid...you're not a part of the plan, but since you seem important to blondie here, you're still alive. But that can change," Horace threatened, as he dialed David and put the phone to Snow's ear.

~*~

David looked through the documents that Cleo had collected.

"So...Neal Cassidy. He jumped a huge bail in Phoenix and now he's been spotted here in Portland?" he asked. Cleo nodded.

"Both the Phoenix PD and Portland PD are clamoring over who gets him. Phoenix wants him for stealing twenty grand in pricey watches. Here in Portland, it's petty stuff mostly, so Phoenix hired us. Either way, we get the payday and their district attorneys can fight over who gets to prosecute," she answered. David squinted, as he looked at the grainy photo of the culprit.

"This is the best photo they have?" he asked. She nodded.

"He's young...but he's good. Knows where all the cameras are and how to avoid them," she replied.

"Okay...well, if he's sticking to petty stuff, we should canvas the convenience stores and the grocery stores," he said.

"Agreed," she replied, as they prepared to head out when he got a call on his cell phone.

"David!" Snow cried, before someone else was speaking.

"She's a lovely lass...a spitfire too," a man said in what sounded like a British accent.

"Who the hell are you and where is my wife?" he demanded to know.

"My name isn't important, mate...but I am enjoying the company of your lovely woman and your noisy brats. Six is quite a brood...but then I guess I wouldn't be able to control myself with a fetch like her," the man said.

"If you touch one hair on her head or any of my children…" he growled.

"You're not in the position to make threats...Mr. Nolan and you'd do yourself well to hold your tongue. I know your secrets, mate. I've seen the...tails and I have the proof," he said. David went pale at that and swallowed thickly.

"What do you want?" he growled.

"Come to the Highland Docks tonight at nine pm...it's an old defunct dock on the east side of the city. No cops...or me and my partner will have some fun with your gorgeous wife, if you get my drift," he said.

"I'll be there...but touch them and I'll be your worst nightmare," David warned, as he hung up the phone.

"What's going on?" Cleo asked.

"Someone has S...Margaret and the kids. They want me to come to the Highland docks tonight. No cops or they're going to hurt them," David replied.

"For what? Why would they take your family?" she asked. David didn't know who they were, but he knew that they had somehow seen them in their other form.

"I don't know...but I have to go," he replied.

"I'm going with you," she insisted. He was about to protest, but she put her hands up.

"David...I know you and your wife have secrets. I've been an investigator for a long time. Whatever it is...it's safe with me," she assured him. He sighed.

"Okay...but you'll have to believe it to see it," he said, as he put his jacket on. She got hers and they headed out. Their search for Neal Cassidy would have to wait...or so they thought.

~*~

Snow had finally gotten the little ones to quiet down and she glared at their captors, before turning her attention to Emma and Baelfire.

"We've been looking for you for a long time, Bae," she whispered.

"So Emma told me...but you shouldn't have," he replied.

"We care about you, sweetheart...and I know that your father did some really terrible things. But he does love you," Snow said. He opened his mouth to retort, but she put her hand up to stop him.

"Hear me out," she requested and he remained silent.

"Before David and I had kids, I wouldn't have understood what he had done, because I would have sworn that I wouldn't have done anything remotely close to the things he had done, even for a child," she said, pausing for a moment.

"But then I became a mother and David became a father and that completely changed. I would do anything for my children...and I mean anything if I had to, even bad things, I'm afraid. When it comes to our kids, we would act in the moment and think about our actions later. It's just what a parent does and it makes us very imperfect," she continued.

"And someday, you'll understand that. And maybe, just maybe you'll be ready to give him a second chance then," Snow said, giving him something to think about.

"Right this way, Madam," Horace said and she stiffened at that, as she could hear the clicking of high heels on the floor.

"Well, well...long time no see, Snow White," the woman said and the raven haired beauty was shocked to see the woman before them.

"Mom...do you know her?" Ben asked.

"Mummy huh? My, my, that gorgeous husband of yours has been busy," she purred.

"Cruella De Vil…" Snow said, spitting the name in disgust.

"In the flesh...or fur, rather," she said, as she ran her hands over the monstrosity she was wearing.

"Do you like it? It's my newest purchase," she said, referring to the black and white mink coat she was wearing.

"Why...or how are you here?" Snow demanded to know.

"I could ask you the same thing...though I think I'm about to find out," she said, as she looked at Horace.

"Show me," she requested, as the man advanced on her. She shied away, but he ripped her necklace off.

"No!" she cried, as there was a poof and her legs became a brilliant white mermaid tale.

"So...that's how you and chisel chin escaped the curse," she realized, as she admired her tale.

"A curse?" she asked. Snow glared at her.

"At first…" she answered.

"Ah...then you saw the value in this magic. Tell me though, how did you get your hubby cursed with this?" she asked.

"Our story is none of your business, but if you must know, Charming found me even though I was cursed and had no voice," Snow replied indignantly.

"Yeah and Daddy gave Mommy true love's kiss!" Rose added and then got shy, as the woman's eyes raked toward her.

"Then why do you still have a tail?" Cruella asked.

"Because the Pink fairy told us that we could use true love's kiss to restore me to my human form...or she could use the reverse and make Charming like me...make us both this way. I thought by doing that and escaping that Regina would give up on her revenge," Snow replied. Cruella snorted.

"Well, she didn't," she said.

"I know...how did you escape the curse?" Snow asked curiously. Cruella smirked.

"I have my ways," she said, as Jasper suddenly hit the ground, unconscious.

"Oh good...it's about to get interesting. Come out, dahling...and careful with your movements. I have everything important to you in grave peril," she called. David emerged from the shadows.

"Ooohhh...you are certainly a treat for the eyes," she gushed.

"Cruella?" he asked in disbelief.

"The one and only," she replied.

"What do you want?" he demanded to know.

"Well...as someone who has found a family of mermaids, I could make a fortune, while the lot of you would end up in some circus somewhere," she replied.

"You're going to sell us?" Emma asked in horror. Cruella cackled, as Cleo emerged beside David, her eyes wide at what she was seeing.

"Your wife…" she uttered.

"Yeah…" David said. While he knew it was overwhelming information for Cleo, he had a feeling he could still trust her.

"Just let my family go! You're not making any money off us," he said.

"No...actually that's not why I need you anyway. But if you'd like to keep them breathing, you will all board this yacht with me and take me to Storybrooke," Cruella replied.

"You want to go to Storybrooke?" Snow asked.

"Yes...mummy is in a bit of trouble, you see. The man I married in this land is dripping with money, but he was just indicted by the Feds for fraud and if I don't escape, I'll be going to prison too. But in Storybrooke...I'll be safe," she replied.

"You're worse than Regina...why would we lead you right to Storybrooke?" David asked. Cruella smirked and Horace cocked the gun in his hand.

"Because if you don't...my associate is going to make a terrible mess out of your beloved wife," Cruella threatened. David put his hands up and Cleo did as well. Jasper, who was coming around, frisked them both and confiscated their handguns.

"Now...shall we be on our way? It's a smooth ride on my husband's yacht and it has all the amenities," Cruella said.

"I can't walk without my necklace," Snow replied. Cruella motioned to David.

"No funny business or bullets fly," she said. He picked her and the baby up in his arms and they shared a torn look. He carried them onto the ship, while their children, Baelfire, and Cleo were taken hostage as well. It would be a long trip to Maine and there was no telling what havoc Cruella would unleash on a cursed, unsuspecting Storybrooke...

#Snowing #SnowxCharming #Charming family #OC Charmings #AU #Mermaid AU #romance #adventure #family #drama #Mysterious Fathoms Below

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