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wicked-mind · 4 years ago

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The Angel and Devil on your Shoulder

Summary: One day you wake up with an angel and devil on your shoulder. And for some reason, they like to air all your feelings out to the one person you’re trying not to like. Bucky.

Word Count: 4.6k

Warnings: (+18 only. This contains sexual themes. Minors DNI and exit now.) Sexual themes. Pining. Implied sex. Swearing. I think that's it.

All Writings Masterlist

Note: This is a little different and out there but it was so much fun to write. Lucy is basically just all my dirty thoughts lol (: not beta’d. All mistakes are my own.

Any and all likes, comments, and/or reblogs are deeply appreciated (: I love that shit.

Bold for Lucy (Represents Lucifer)

Italics for Mickey (Represents Michael)

*Gifs not mine

You weren’t sure exactly when it happened. It surprised you as much as anybody. You just woke up one day to see two pocket sized creatures staring back at you on the pillow. You shrieked and threw yourself from the bed, grabbing the nearest gun you had hidden in your room and pointed at them, “What in the fuck are you?” You stammered out, breathing hard. One was what looked like a small woman dressed in a devil costume, tail and pitchfork included. The other was a small woman dressed in white with a small halo around her head. They honestly looked like cartoon characters of the sort.

“We didn’t mean to scare you.” The one in white said with a small smile, suddenly floating up in the air to float in front of you.

“Yes we did.” The devil looking one said, folding her arms with a wicked smile on her lips as she stayed laying on your pillow.

“Shut up, Lucy!”

“Make me, Mickey.”

You lowered the gun a little, wide eyes flickering between the two, “What the hell is going on?” You breathed out, wondering if you’d lost your mind.

“My apologies. I’m Mickey.” She said with a small curtsy and a smile, “That’s my sister, Lucy. We are your deities.”

“My what?” You ask confused, your brain trying to catch up with the fact that there were two tiny fairy-like people just floating in your room.

“Deities. You know, divine status.” The one named Lucy suddenly floated over and perched itself on your shoulder, “Usually humans don’t get any deities. We are pretty much reserved for gods and such.”

You looked at the small person on your shoulder before reaching a hand and flicking her off, sending her flying before she stopped midair floating and huffed at you, “Then why are you here?”

“We don’t know. We’re just your deities.”

“Well can you not be my deities?” You ask, looking back to the angelic one, “I’m not a god or a divine person so you two can just go back where you came from.”

“No can do, boss lady. You’re stuck with us.”

That is how you were introduced to your two deities. Lucy, the devil on your shoulder and Mickey, the angel on the other. You first had to make sure you weren’t going insane, calling Wanda incessantly until she came into your room with a concerned look on her face to see you pacing around. You had made Lucy and Mickey hide somewhere in the room before Wanda arrived. You paused when Wanda asked you what was wrong and looked at her, “Okay, first you can’t send me to the looney bin because I’m not crazy.” You pause, “Well maybe I am but I don’t want to go to the looney bin.”

Wanda tilts her head at you still with a confused look on her face, “No looney bin, gotcha.” She said slowly, “Now what’s going on?”

You let out a deep breathe before muttering a “come on out.” to the two deities in hiding. They slowly floated up from under the bed and floated towards Wanda who was staring at them with wide, yet confused eyes, “What are those things?”

“I don’t know, Wanda!” You say, “They just were staring at me when I woke up. They say they’re my deities.”

“I’m Mickey!” The one in white beamed, moving closer to Wanda and taking a seat on her right shoulder.

“And I’m Lucy.” The red one huffed out, floating over to Wanda’s right shoulder and kicking Mickey off Wanda’s shoulder.

Wanda stood in silence for a moment just staring at the two deities before smiling slightly, “They’re so cute!” She said before looking back to you, “Can we keep them?”

You groaned. Of course Wanda thought this was cute and not at all weird, “As much as I want to say no, I don’t have a choice. They say they’re stuck with me.” You inform, watching them float back over to you and sit themselves on either of your shoulders.

You figured out that Mickey was the parts of you that wanted to do good, be good. The part that cared and gave helpful advice while Lucy was the complete opposite. She harbored all your temptations and dirty, dark thoughts. The rest of the team figured out your secret eventually. Steve and Sam found you talking to yourself on the couch before seeing them sitting beside you asking all the questions about TV. They thought it was funny and Sam had many jokes about the angel and devil on your shoulders.The worst one was Bucky when he found out. He was a player, always having different girls up in his room almost every day of the week as well as make flirty remarks to you anytime he was in the room and that was before you had the deities. He loved the little devil on your shoulder. It got all worked up when Bucky walked in a room trying to make suggestions towards you about running your fingers through his hair or jumping his bones until your face was hot and you stormed out of the room. Luckily, you eventually figured out that you could give them orders. You once told them to leave you alone and they disappeared into thin air giving you about three hours of peace before they returned.

Now the whole team was out on a mission. Leaving you around with the person you didn’t want to be left alone with. Bucky. You were trying your best to stay away from him, especially when your deities were around. He got you so worked up which only made Lucy get worked up as well. As much as you were trying to stay away from him, there were moments where he managed to track you down. Like this morning when you were walking out of your room to head down to the training room. Bucky was walking down the hall with nothing but a towel on which made you freeze in your tracks as Lucy started fanning herself on your shoulder in a swoon, “Why are you walking on my floor with nothing but a towel on? Your room is upstairs and has it’s own shower, Barnes.” You scowled, folding your arms.

“Ah, c’mon, Y/N! Maybe if you’re nice he’ll accidentally let the towel slip.” Lucy’s words earned a smack from Mickey before she returned her arms crossed as well, mimicking your scowl.

Bucky put that signature panty-dropping grin on and came closer to you, staring down into your eyes as he towered above you, “You know, sweetheart,” He began, making Lucy giggle on your shoulder, “Maybe you should listen to your devil sometime. She’s got all the good ideas.” He finished before walking around you and to the elevator, disappearing through the doors.

“You should’ve kicked him in the shin.”

You and Mickey both look over at Lucy as she floated off your shoulder and in front of you, “What?” You ask.

“He could’ve dropped his towel if you kicked him in the shin. Then we could see the rest of him.”

You scowled at Lucy, “Shut up.” You told her before continuing on your way to the training room. You started with some weight lifting before moving onto punching the bag while Lucy and Mickey sat behind you on the ropes of the boxing ring bickering as they usually did. They both fell oddly silent and when you turned around to check on them, there was Bucky again towering over you inches away, making you jump, “Holy shit!” You gasped out, “You need a fucking bell, Barnes.” You hissed out at him for scaring you.

Bucky clicks his tongue at you, taking a step forward until you backed up against the boxing bag, a smirk growing on his lips as he had you cornered in, “Now, now Y/N. I’m not sure how your angel would feel about that kind of language.”

“I’ll allow it.”

“Mhmm…”

You leaned over to look around him, glaring at your deities before straightening back up and looking back up at him, “What do you want? I thought you were done with training this morning.”

Bucky raises an eyebrow at you, “Keeping track of my schedule, doll?” He asks, reaching out a hand to brush a strand of hair that was stuck to your lip away and tucks it behind your ear.

You scowled at him, crossing your arms across your chest, “As if. Did you forget about the towel thing already?” You sneer out. You couldn’t deny it though, his light touch to your cheek made you blush and a shiver run up your spine. Bucky was hot but to you he was also a walking cesspool from all the women he had flaunting over him. At first you had the biggest crush on him but that quickly turned to slight disgust mixed with your crush. But when he was standing over you like this, lightly sweeping away a strand of hair, your knees felt weak and your breath hitches in your throat.

“Oh I couldn’t forget the face you made when you saw me nearly naked. It was the most beautiful look I’ve ever seen.” Bucky grins down at you, taking another step closer so your bodies were almost touching and he reaches up his arms over your head to rest his hands on top of hanging punching bag, practically cornering you in, “Came to see if you needed any help.”

You stare up into those stupid, pretty blue eyes of his, biting your bottom lip at how close he is. You eventually advert your gaze from his eyes and look around him, anywhere but that hypnotizing stare, “No thanks. I’m just about done.”

“Oh booooo! You two should wrestle. That’d be hot.”

“Lucy!” Mickey began then paused, “Yeah you have a point.”

“So you’re on my side now about tall, dark, and handsome?”

“He may talk like a devil but he looks like an angel.”

Bucky grins, his eyes never leaving yours as he listened to your deities’s conversation, “Hear that, sweetheart? Even your little deities think I’m the best of both worlds.” He leans his face down, closer to yours. He was so close that he could capture your lips in a moment if he wanted to and you wouldn’t be able to do anything to stop him, “You just gotta give me a chance.”

You stared back into his eyes before moving your gaze down to his lips, watching his tongue flicker out and sweep across the bottom one lightly which cause you to let out a jagged breath. You quickly remembered who Bucky was and ducked down under his arms and away from him, “No thanks, Barnes. I’m not going to be just another girl that sneaks out of your room when you’re done.” You say, going over to the bench and picking up your water bottle and making your way out of the training area.

“Who said you’d be just another girl?” Bucky tucks his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants as he watches you go, waving to your deities as they passed him to follow you out, “And who said anything about sneaking out, darlin’? I’d let you stay all night and every night after!” He called out before you slammed the door behind you. What he said was true though, Bucky would give up all the one night stands and flirting with other women if you would just give him a chance. He honestly liked you, almost to the point where the crush had grown into being in love with you. And now that you had a little devil on your shoulder that spoke all your dirty thoughts, he knew you felt some sort of the same way. He hadn’t brought another woman home since Lucy started making remarks and he noticed you would blush and quickly exit a room. He never thought he had a chance with you, thought you disliked him. But now he had a chance.

You made your way to your bedroom, shutting the door behind you and let out a deep breath before touching your cheek where Bucky had swiped some of your hair away. It was like you could still feel his touch and it sent another shiver down your spine.

“Is she okay?” Mickey asks, tilting her head at you as she and Lucy sat on your pillow.

“I think she’s getting all warm and fuzzy.” Lucy snickered.

“Warm and Fuzzy?…. Oh!”

“Shut up.” You groan, tossing your water bottle on the bed before making your way to your bathroom and shutting the door behind you to have some alone time from your deities. You pulled off your sweaty clothes from your body before turning on the shower and stepping into the warm water. You closed your eyes and tilted your head back into the warmth, your mind immediately floating to how good you felt with Bucky so close to you. The way his words rolled off his tongue like velvet. And oh god, the way his tongue danced across his bottom lip as he stared right into your eyes. You quickly shook the thoughts from your head and scrubbed yourself clean of sweat and his touch before turning off the shower and pulling a towel around your body. You brushed out your hair in the bathroom before walking out into your bedroom, freezing when you saw Bucky sprawled across your bed talking to your deities. You gripped the towel tighter around you, your eyes wide, “What are you doing?!”

Bucky looked over to you, tilting his head as he ran his eyes up and down your body that was only covered by a towel, “You saw me in only a towel, figured it’s only fair if I saw you.” He teased, placing his arms behind the back of his head on your pillow with a grin set on his lips, “Better than I could’ve imagined, sweetheart.”

You frown a little at him, picking up a book from your desk and throwing it at him which he caught with ease. Damn super soldier reflexes. You watched Mickey and Lucy slowly float from over on the bed by Bucky to sit on your shoulders, “Well can you please go so I can get dressed?”

Bucky set the book down on your bedside table before sitting up on your bed, keeping eye contact with you with every movement he made, “I’ll go on one condition.” He smirked over at you, licking his lips again.

“I hope that one condition is to join him in the bed. Yum.”

You tilted your head to glare at Lucy who quickly made a motion to zip her lips shut before returning your gaze back to Bucky who was standing from your bed and making his way over to you. You back up until your thighs hit the edge of your desk and he’s towering over you once again, “What do you want?”

“Oh he’s close-close.”

Bucky kept walking towards you until he was almost flush against your body but left a little space between. His blue eyes pierced down into yours, the smirk never wavering from his lips, “Have dinner with me tonight, doll.” He says, reaching up a hand to brush his vibranium knuckles across your cheek, making goosebumps crawl up your skin and your knees almost buckle, “Just you and me.”

“She’s getting warm and fuzzy again.”

“Warm and fuzzy over dinner?”

“She’s probably thinking about dessert.”

You shut your eyes tightly at the words of your deities, why did they have to always speak up on what you were feeling at the most inopportune times. You opened your eyes again when you heard Bucky chuckle at their words, meeting his gaze that had been unmoving from your face, “Fine. Dinner. Just dinner.” You mumble out to him, “Now can you please go so I can get dressed?”

Bucky beams at your response, “A deals a deal.” He replied, but didn’t move away from you. He tilts his head as he gave you another look over, biting his bottom lip and scrunching his nose slightly at the sight before meeting your gaze again, “I’ll be cooking. Meet me in the kitchen at six.” He said before learning in and leaving a gentle kiss on your cheek before turning and leaving your room, shutting the door behind him.

As soon as he left your room, you walked on shaky legs over to your bed and sat on the edge with a groan. Bucky doesn’t do dinner, let alone cook dinner for the women he brings back. He’s usually on one mission when it came to women and that was to get them in and out of his room as quick as possible.

“Is she okay?”

“Shit, I’m not. Did you see him bite his lip? I almost fainted.”

“Yeah that even had me swooning a little bit.”

“I’m surprised her underwear just didn’t fall off right on the spot.”

“She isn’t wearing underwear.”

“Good point.”

“Okay! Time out!” You yell at them, glaring as your eyes flickered between the two deities. They both looked at you before disappearing into thin air, giving you some peace and quiet to process the deal you just made with Bucky. You took a deep breath, “It’s just dinner.” You tell yourself, throwing your towel into the hamper and changing into some jean shorts and your AC/DC tank. You decided it would be best to just avoid Bucky the rest of the day until dinner then you could go back to avoiding him. You tried to read to waste the time but your mind couldn’t stop drifting to the way Bucky kissed your cheek. It was soft, gentle and hesitant as if he was trying to be some sort of gentleman.

“You’ve read the same page six times.”

“I know.” You mutter out. Your deities had returned after an hour of peace and silence, but luckily they were behaving for the most part. You had another hour before you were supposed to meet Bucky in the kitchen.

“She’s thinking about Bucky.”

“Ooohhhh…. Good thinking?”

“Sexy thinking?”

“Is there a difference?”

You groaned and brought the book up to your face, hiding in the pages, “I don’t know what he’s doing. I feel like the mouse in a game of cat and mouse.”

“I’ll be his mouse any day.”

“Well, maybe he actually likes you?”

“I don’t know if he’s capable of liking anybody in that way.”

“He hasn’t brought anybody back to his bedroom since we showed up and I started airing out your dirty laundry.”

You look over at Lucy, “How do you know that?”

“He’s nice to look at. Sometimes I go stare at him.”

“He invited you to dinner. He hasn’t done that with anybody else before.”

“And he’s cooking. Hopefully naked cooking. Or nothing but an apron on, that’ll work.”

“Yeah, I know. Bucky doesn’t do dinner for his flings, let alone cook for them.” You pause for a moment, “Oh my god, is this a date?”

“Seems like a date.”

“You should put on a skimpy dress.”

You frown at Lucy, “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

“Nothing is wrong with what you’re wearing.” Mickey glared over at Lucy, “You wear whatever you’re comfortable in.”

“Thanks, Mickey.” You mumble out, putting the book down on your bedside table.

“I’m just trying to get you laid. Skimpy dresses work.”

You sigh, standing up and looking at yourself in the mirror, “Maybe I should put pants on instead of shorts so he isn’t eye fucking me.”

“Just more layers for him to strip off of you later.”

“I don’t think covering your legs will work. You were wearing leggings and a hoodie in the training room and he was still trying to undress you with his eyes.”

You bite onto your bottom lip as you look at yourself in the mirror. What was it about you that Bucky liked so much to where he was going to make you dinner? Ask you out on a date? Sure, he’s always made flirty comments with you but you thought that was the normal. He’s never made any towards Natasha which you thought was because she’d kill him in a moments notice but then he’s never flirted with Wanda either. You were the only one in the facility he bothered to flirt with and get all worked up. Maybe he did actually like you? And Lucy just confirmed it so now he was headstrong on asking you out?

Eventually the time came and you slowly walked out of your room and made your way to the kitchen, stopping when you see the table had been set with a nice white cloth, some candles, two wine glasses with a bottle of wine, and some bread.

“Definitely a date.” Mickey whispers in your ear.

Bucky turned from the stove to see you, a grin forming across his lips. He was wearing black jeans with a dark blue henley that seemed about two sizes too small on him, “Hey, sweetheart. Dinner’s just about ready.” He said, walking over to the table and pouring some wine into the glasses before walking over to you with one and stretching it out to you, “We are having steak, potatoes, and some salad. I hope that’s okay. You look beautiful by the way.”

You took the wine glass and nod, “That’s fine.” You say back to him before biting your lip. Beautiful in simple jean shorts and a band t-shirt? You couldn’t sense any lying in his voice and he was looking at you with soft, sincere eyes and a smile, “Thanks. You look good too.”

“Oh, steak. And wine. And candles. You know what they say about steak.”

“What?”

“When a guy buys a girl the most expensive thing on the menu, usually they expect at least a blowjob.”

“Oh. That makes no sense. Why does steak equal blowjob?”

“Oh my god.” You say, closing your eyes and pinching the bridge of your nose with your free hand, “You two. Gone. Now.” You hiss out at your deities. Once it was silent for a moment, you opened your eyes to see they had disappeared and Bucky standing there with an amused grin on his lips.

“Just so you know, doll, I don’t expect anything.” Bucky said with a grin down at you, stepping closer and gently placing a hand on your hip, “Just wanted to treat you to a nice evening.”

You bit your lip again, the same shiver running up your back as he touched your hip and you wondered if you knew what he was doing to you. You watched him for a moment before speaking, “James, is this a date?”

Bucky raises an eyebrow at your question, “You don’t have to consider it one. But I sure do.” He told you, “I’ve always wanted to ask you out, Y/N.” He said with a sincere smile before turning away and going back to the table to grab the plates and head to the stove to dish everything up.

The whole time during dinner, Bucky was nothing but a gentleman to you. He didn’t make any snide, seductive remarks. Instead he spent his time telling you about himself, answering any question you asked honestly. He asked you questions about your hobbies, which he already knew mostly everything about. He asked what books you were currently reading. You had never seen this side of Bucky and for a moment you forgot everything about him being an annoying flirt. It wasn’t until dessert that he turned on flirt back on. Bucky pulled out a slice of chocolate cake he must’ve picked up from a bakery and sat beside you, cutting a pice off with his fork before holding the it in front of your face, “Open up, sweetheart.” He told you, that grin returning to his lips.

You give him a look but opened your mouth and took the bite of chocolate cake, smiling a little, “That is so good.” You say after swallowing the bite. You bit your lip for a moment before taking the fork from him, slicing off a piece and holding it in front of him like he did for you, “Open up.” You say with a teasing smile.

Bucky grins but parts his lip, his teeth scraping slightly against the fork as you pulled it from his lips. He chewed a little before swallowing the piece and leaning a little closer to you, “Mmm. That’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted.” He purrs out to you.

You blush slightly at his velvety voice, “Yeah, it’s really sweet. Really good.” You reply slightly stumbling over your words, watching him lean in a little closer to you.

“I could think of something sweeter I’d like to try.” Bucky breathed out to you, his face inches from yours now. He took the fork from your hand and set it down on the table without breaking eye contact before lifting his hand to cup your cheek gently. He didn’t move closer to you though, instead scanning your face as if to ask for you permission.

You bit your bottom lip, able to smell the chocolate on his breath as well as the wine. You stared into his eyes, not moving away from his touch or away from him being so close to you. You swore you could hear your heart pounding in your ears, “Then try it.” You whisper out to him.

Within a second after your words, Bucky’s lips were on yours. It was gentle but bruising. His other hand quickly came to rest on your thigh, sneaking up until he reached your hip. He didn’t stop at one kiss, instead he kept laying sweet kisses on your lips, deepening each one until his tongue traced your bottom lip begging for entrance which you happily parted your lips for. He groaned when his tongue danced with yours, pulling you off your chair in one swift movement and onto his lap to have you straddle his waist.

You pulled away for air, not knowing when your fingers got tangled in his dark hair. You look down at him from where you sat on his lap, taking deep breathes as his eyes met yours. His hands were gripping onto your waist and he was licking his bottom lip as if to taste any remnants of your lips.

“Been thinkin’ about doin’ that forever, doll.” Bucky groaned up to you, “First time I saw you… I couldn’t stop thinkin’ about making you my girl.”

“Me too. That was hot.” Lucy said, sitting on the top of the counter with Mickey at her side.

You blushed and hid your face into Bucky’s shoulder at your deities’s words.

“Don’t stop on our account. We are just here for the show.”

“What show?”

“The show of them having hot sex on the table.”

“I don’t think we should watch that show.”

You lift your head to look over at your deities with a glare, “Go away. There will be no hot sex on the table.” You hissed out at them before watching them disappear again. You look back to Bucky who was staring up at you with an amused grin, “I meant that.”

“No sex on the table?” Bucky chuckles out, pulling your hips against his making a small gasp escape your lips, “That’s fine, darlin’. We can start in the bedroom and work our way out here.”

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hercleverboy · 4 years ago

Text

reassurance

spencer reid x reader

summary ↠ after a heated argument on a case, the reader gets fatally injured in the field. spencer battles with the fact that he never got to apologise.

category ↠ angst

warnings/includes ↠ major character death, depression, refusing to eat.

word count ↠ 4.2k

“Maybe I’ll see you in another life, if this one wasn’t enough.” — Florence + the Machine

Spencer and Y/N rarely fought.

Of course they bickered from time to time about silly things that wouldn’t matter ten minutes later, but they rarely had a full-on argument. Screaming matches where they tried to wound one another with bitter words they didn’t really mean. They’d only ever fought like that once or twice, but ultimately they’d end with heartfelt apologies and kisses as they forgave one another and grew from their mistakes.

This particular argument however, was easily the worst they’d ever had.

It was the first big fight they’d had since they’d gotten married four months prior.

You know what they say about marriage; the first year is the hardest.

“I just don’t understand why we have to talk about this right now.” Spencer scowled as he walked into the empty room, his wife following hot on his heels.

Themselves and the team were had been sent to North Carolina on a triple homicide case in Charlotte. They’d been there for two days, and the newlyweds had carried an awkward tension with them ever since the case started. The couple had gotten into the start of an argument before they’d had to leave for the jet, which left what they new would be a bad fight brewing between them. Neither of them wanted to start the inevitable fight they knew they were going to have to have at some point. Y/N wanted to remain professional, to keep her emotions in check until her and Spencer got home and could fight talk everything out. She was succeeding, until she saw how snappy and cold Spencer was acting with her during the case, cutting her off mid-sentence and dropping sassy, unnecessary comments whenever she spoke. That only fuelled Y/N’s fire further. So when she managed to catch him alone she decided they had to have it out, even if it was in the middle of the case.

She closed the door to the room behind her as she watched Spencer busy himself with the three case files of the murder victims before him. She turned to him, her arms crossing in front of her. “Because I wanted to wait to have this fight until after the case finished, but you started up with the snappy attitude for no reason!”

“I’m busy, Y/N. Not right now.” He uttered, brushing her off. Again.

“Yes, right now. Every time I bring up the topic you shut me down and I’m tired of it! We have to talk about this, Spence. I’ve let you brush me off too many times now.” Her voice had lowered, she wasn’t shouting anymore but she was still stern.

Spencer scoffed. “You’re being ridiculous. I don’t brush you off.”

“You do! That’s exactly what you did before we left for the jet the other morning. Anytime I bring up starting a family you don’t want to hear about it. It’s a conversation we need to have.” She groaned. It was true, anytime since they’d gotten married that Y/N mentioned the idea of starting a family, Spencer blew her off. He’d completely shut down the conversation, refusing to speak about it with her. Y/N was growing frustrated. She didn’t want them to start immediately trying for a baby or anything, she just wanted to discuss her future with her husband, and he acted like she’d asked him to commit murder with her.

“Nope, we don’t need to have that conversation right now.” He murmured, his back still turned to her as his fingers scanned over the pages of writing in front of him.

“Do you not want kids with me, is that it?” She winced, the thought hurting her.

“Not if you’re gonna act like this.” He responded and it made her breath hitch. She knew he was pissed but surely he didn’t mean that?

“Spencer- I-I love you, I want to have kids with you. We don’t have to start trying yet, not for a long while but I just need to know that it’s in the cards for us.” She swallowed, walking closer to him, hoping he’d turn to face her.

“Maybe if you didn’t jump down my throat about all the time I’d be more willing to talk!” He spat, finally turning to face her.

“Are you seriously trying to pin this all on me? I just need some comfort. You do eventually want a family, right?” Her voice got even quieter, her tone pleading and her eyes glassy.

“God Y/N why are you in such a rush? We only just got married!” He yelled, exasperated as he threw his arms out in exaggeration. “I just need some time to think, okay?”

“How much time? A month? Two?” She challenged.

“That’s not a lot of time, Y/N.” He ran his hands through his hair frustratedly.

“I can’t wait around for years only for you to decide you don’t want kids, Spence. That’s not fair on me, I’d have to start over-”

Spencer frowned, interrupting her. “Wait- start over? You mean with someone else?” For the first time in the argument his harsh exterior softened, worry seeping into his honey coloured iris’.

Y/N was silent, her gaze lowering to the floor as tears began to tremble down her cheeks.

Spencer scoffed and shook his head. “This is stupid.” He muttered under his breath, as though Y/N couldn’t hear it clear as day.

She let out a small sob when she opened her mouth to speak. “All I’m asking for is some reassurance. I’m your wife, Spencer! Why can’t you just give me that?”

“I don’t want kids, okay?! is that what you want to hear? Can we drop this now?” He exclaimed, regretting the words as soon as they left his mouth but at this time his anger outweighed his regret.

Y/N recoiled, her eyes casting down to look at the floor as her sight blurred, hot tears rolling down her pink cheeks.

Just then three knocks sounded on the door, a sheepish looking JJ opened it, poking her head in. “Uh- sorry to interrupt. Garcia found us a possible address, Hotch wants you two to go and check it out.”

Y/N sniffed and wiped the tears away from under her eyes. She grabbed her FBI jacket that hung on the back of one of the chairs before turning toward JJ. “No. I’d rather go with Morgan.” She muttered before walking out the door without a second glance at her husband.

��Y/N wait-” He tried calling out but she was already gone. He sighed, running his hands over his face.

“What was that about?” JJ asked quietly, her brows furrowed in confusion.

“Nothing.” He tried to lie but JJ gave him a look, one that said don’t bullshit me. “We had a fight, it was a pretty bad one. I said some things I didn’t mean.”

JJ placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “It’ll be okay. When her and Morgan get back you can tell her you’re sorry. You’ll work it out, you love one another too much not to.”

Spencer nodded, glancing down to the thin gold band that sat on his ring finger. His mind drifted back to their wedding day, the happiest day of his life. He remembered how she’d taken his breath away when he saw her coming down the aisle, wearing a dress so beautiful and so her that it brought tears to his eyes.

She was ethereal.

and she was his.

It brought a small smile to his lips. JJ was right. As soon as she got back they’d finish up this case and then he’d spend all the time he had to making it up to her. He thanked JJ before they headed to join the others in the other room. The team, minus Y/N and Morgan, were gathered around overlooking their profile and all the details of the case, looking for anything they might of missed.

Hotch’s phone rang out and he answered, all of the team looking his way, hoping whoever was on the other end of the line would give them the information they needed to crack the case wide open. Spencer wasn’t concerned until he saw the shift in Hotch’s face, from his usual stern look to one of worry and concern.

“What’s wrong?” Spencer asked as soon as Hotch hung up the phone.

“That was Morgan calling from the hospital. He and Y/L/N found the unsub at the address. He had a gun, with which he shot Y/L/N twice with before he fled.”

JJ let out a gasp. “She’s okay though, right? I mean she would’ve been wearing her vest.”

Hotch spared a glance at Spencer who looked at him with eyes so wide it hurt him. He slowly shook his head. “One bullet hit the vest, the other hit her side. She’s in emergency surgery now.”

Spencer was up from his seat within seconds, rushing out of the building towards the SUV’s, the rest of the team following quickly.

Spencer rushed through the white hospital hallways with a heavy weight in his heart that he’d never felt before. He dashed around the corner, his eyes landing on Morgan in the waiting room, who sat with his head in his hands.

“Morgan? Where is she? She okay, right?” He begged his best friend to tell him something, anything good.

Morgan just shook his head. “I’m sorry kid, I don’t know anything. She’s still in surgery.”

Spencer felt sick.

They waited for hours without news, him worriedly pacing the waiting room. He was going through every possible outcome in his head, thinking of the worst case scenarios, making himself physically sick with worry.

Any time a member of the team attempted to talk to him, he snapped at them, telling them to leave him alone. He knew they were just trying to help, but he could apologise for that later. The only think that mattered at that moment was his wife. Eventually he’d worn himself out, his mind and body overwhelmed with all the emotions and visions of worst case scenarios. It took JJ grabbing his wrist and taking him to another private room for him to finally accept her help. He broke down as soon as she wrapped her arms around him, trying desperately to soothe the sobs coming from his mouth.

He pulled back, sucking in deep breaths as he attempted to calm himself down. “When we were fighting earlier I told her I didn’t want kids with her, but it’s not true- God JJ, having s family with her is all I think about.” He wept. “I’m just so scared that I’ll pass down some of my undesirable genes, I don’t want my kids to have to suffer.”

JJ just gave him a sad look, unsure what to say.

“What if I never get the chance to tell her I lied? I love her so much JJ- I-I can’t lose her. I want to have a family so badly with her, she means everything to me.” He crumpled into one of the chairs in the room as JJ watched helplessly.

After regaining his breath and wiping his eyes, the two rejoined the group in the waiting room. The team sent him sympathetic glances but Spencer didn’t acknowledge them.

It was around 4am that an exhausted looking doctor walked into the waiting room. Immediately Spencer was on his feet, pleading in his head that the doctor will tell him that she was fine, that his wife was awake and alive and was waiting to see him. She was strong, a fighter. She was going to be fine.

and then everything came crashing down.

“I’m so sorry, Mr Reid.”

His knees buckled beneath him as he collapsed to the floor, heartbreaking sobs leaving his mouth as the doctor left the room, closing the door behind him.

Spencer could hear the other teams whimpers but he blocked them out.

He couldn’t feel anything but the sharp stabbing pain in his chest that made his whole body throb with a pain so unimaginable he wouldn’t wish it on his worst enemy.

He barely registered how Derek’s arms wrapped around him, pulling him to his feet as his friend cried into his shoulder.

“I didn’t tell her I loved her before she left.” He bawled, and the sight broke the teams hearts.

“She knew, Reid. She knew.” Derek tried to soothe him but it was a fruitless attempt, as his heart-wrenching cries only intensified.

Two weeks later and the pain was still as fresh as it had been that day. Spencer’s body ached all over, his heart felt heavy in his chest.

He’d slept on the couch for weeks, refusing to sleep in their bed without her.

It felt wrong.

After shutting everyone out for two weeks and barely eating, showering or sleeping, he finally allowed JJ into his apartment. They didn’t speak, but he would sit on his sofa, staring blankly at the wall while JJ tried to get him to eat and encouraged him to shower. He wouldn’t respond, no matter how much his stomach rumbled with hunger, he wouldn’t eat. JJ tried her best, and she knew he was grateful, but he was so deep in his heartache and depression that he couldn’t do anything. She would tidy up sometimes and did laundry for him, encouraging him to change out of the same clothes he’d worn for weeks.

He heard JJ humming to herself quietly as she walked through the living room toward the kitchen, laundry basket in her hands. He normally wouldn’t have paid notice, but an item of clothing on top of the pile caught his eye. It was a bright mustard yellow cardigan.

Specifically, it was Y/N’s mustard yellow cardigan.

Spencer recalled how she loved the bright colour, having many items in her wardrobe of similar colour. She insisted it was for her ‘autumn style’, whatever that meant. Whenever she told him that he’d simply smile at her, his eyes so full of love and happiness. She would always grin back at him in response.

What he’d give to see that smile again.

“Wait.” He called out, his voice thick and raspy after weeks of not using it. “You can’t wash that.”

JJ looked over in surprise. He hadn’t spoken to her at all any of the other times she’d been over to help him.

Spencer got up and walked over, taking the cardigan from the top of JJ’s pile. He brought the item up to his face, inhaling deeply, a sob getting caught in his throat at the realisation that it still smelled like her, the scent of her perfume clinging to the fabric.

JJ’s eyes widened with the realisation that the cardigan belonged to Y/N. She’d just picked it up from where it had been on the floor in the bedroom, figuring it belonged to Spencer. She was about to apologise profusely for touching it when he spoke again.

“I miss her so much, JJ.” He cried, his voice cracking as she placed the basket down on the floor.

“Can I hug you?” She asked, unsure if he wanted to be touched at that moment.

He nodded, and was filled with a sort of relief when JJ’s arms wrapped around him. It was the first human contact he’d had in weeks. He welcomed the warmth. (He’d felt so cold lately.)

Later that night he’d sobbed himself into an uneasy sleep, clutching the cardigan to his chest, inhaling the scent of her perfume as if he could convince himself that she was still there.

When he woke the next day he saw the sunlight peeking in through the curtains that he hadn’t opened in weeks. He blinked, and noticed how his fists still clutched handfuls of the yellow cardigan. His memory flashed, and he recalled how she looked in the mornings- like a goddess. He could almost hear her melodic laugh, as though she were right next to him. He closed his eyes, hoping he’d wake up and it’d be real, that she’d be next to him and everything would be okay. This horrific nightmare would be just that- a bad dream, after which she’d soothe him with hushed reassurances and soft kisses to his forehead.

He squeezed his eyes shut, hoping and praying that when he opened them she’d be there in his arms, where she was meant to be.

He opened his eyes slowly, only to be met with what he feared, an empty space beside him.

Spencer really thought he couldn’t cry anymore, that he was all out of tears, but as he felt the familiar feeling rise in his chest, his breaths picked as a small sob broke from his lips.

He didn’t leave the sofa that day.

He was sat with his back against one of his walls, his knees pulled up to his chest. His phone buzzed from the table across the room. The team called and texted him regularly, but he never responded. Though no one called him more than Derek Morgan, worried sick for his closest friend.

Spencer waited for the buzzing to stop, the familiar tone ringing out that signalled he’s been left a voicemail. Something inside him possessed him to stand up, grabbing his phone and tapping the buttons to hear the voicemail.

“Hey Reid. Its Morgan, I-uh.” His voice cracked. Morgan was never a particularly emotional man, but he still remembered that day Y/N died clearly, and was consumed by guilt. He blamed himself, Spencer could hear it in his voice.

Morgan swore under his breath as he placed his hands against her side, desperately trying to slow the blood pouring from the wound.

“Morgan.” She grunted. “The unsub- you have to go after him.” She clenched her teeth together at the searing pain in her side, a burning feeling like nothing she’d ever felt before.

“No, Y/N. I won’t leave you here. Not only are you Spencer’s wife but you are my friend and I’m gonna stay with you, okay?” He promised, meeting her tear filled eyes as she nodded. “The ambulance is gonna be here any second, just gotta hold on for me yeah?”

Y/N nodded and fought desperately to keep herself awake but could feel herself slipping away with every second that passed. She shook her head from side to side, hopelessly trying to force herself to stay awake, fighting to keep her eyes open.

“Y/N? Y/N! Come on, baby. You gotta stay awake. What about Spencer, hm? Talk to me about him.” Morgan was just trying to get her talking in hopes that she’d stay awake long enough for the ambulance to arrive.

“He said he doesn’t want kids with me.” She mumbled, giving a weak smile. “We- We argued about it earlier, but I’m not mad at him. Morgan, he has to know I forgive him-” She coughed, blood spilling from her lips as she winced. She looked up at Morgan. “Y-You have to tell him. Tell him that i-it’s okay. Tell him I love him, that I-” She let out another cry in agony as he pushed harder down on her wound.

“Listen, listen. You hear the sirens? They’re close. You just gotta stay awake for a little while longer. Then you can tell pretty boy all of this yourself, okay?” Derek looked around as he heard the sound getting closer, relief breaking out across his face when the ambulance rounded the corner, coming into view. He looked down to Y/N to reassure her, but noticed how her body had gone limp beneath him. “Y/N?” His eyes were wide as he moved a hand to shake her shoulder, getting no response. “Y/N please-”

“I just need you to know, if you’re listening, how sorry I am. Y/N she- she told me, before the ambulance came-” Derek paused and Spencer’s breath hitched. “She wanted me to tell you she loved you. That she forgave you.” Derek cleared his throat, evidently trying to keep up his ‘tough guy’ act for the sake of his friend. “I just- needed you to know that. Call me when you’re ready.” The loud beep sounded out after the message finished and Spencer just stood, frozen.

His wife’s last words were that she loved him, that she forgave him.

It didn’t make him feel any better.

JJ was washing up plates in his kitchen after pretty much forcing him to eat some soup. He only had about four spoonful’s, which was disappointing but it was progress, and she figured it was better than nothing.

It had been a month since Y/N died, and nothing was getting better for Spencer. Everyday felt worse and worse, the pain never got lighter like people said it would, it never got any easier to deal with.

He sat on the sofa with a book perched on his lap, though he made no attempt to read it. He’d loved to read before, but now he couldn’t look at any of his books without thinking of how he used to read them to Y/N when she couldn’t sleep. He found that everywhere he looked in the home, he was reminded of her.

After drying the plate and putting it away, JJ turned to look at her friend who sat staring at the wall blankly.

She spoke although she knew she likely wouldn’t receive a response, she didn’t mind. He needed human interaction of some sort. “I’ve been talking to the others and- we think maybe it would be useful for you to speak to someone. Anyone, Spence. You can’t keep living like this. It’s killing you.” She murmured, her voice pleading. He shifted his gaze to look at her, but said nothing. “If you don’t want to talk to someone, how about you try writing letters? It’s something they had me do when Roslyn died. I used to burn them afterwards too, I found it therapeutic. It helped, even if just a little bit.” She tried, hoping he’d at least consider the idea.

After JJ left Spencer thought about what she’d said. At first he’d thought it was a stupid idea, pathetic, really. Writing letters weren’t going to bring his wife back.

but then again, nothing would.

He found himself sat at his desk, pen and paper in front of him. It took him hours to figure out what he wanted to say. At first he couldn’t even decide how to address the letter, was just her name good enough? He wrote and rewrote the letter a hundred times, trying to get everything right. Eventually he realised that there was no way to get it ‘right’, he just had to write how he felt.

‘Y/N,

JJ reckons that this will help aid my grief, and I can see how much my state is scaring her, so I figured I’d give this a shot.

Its been two months since you left.

Since you left the world, since you left me.

I know it wasn’t your fault. I don’t blame you, not for anything. I blame myself more than anyone else. If I’d just told you the truth rather than trying to be difficult, maybe you’d still be here. Maybe if I had just given you the reassurance you were looking for, It would’ve been me who’d come with you to the address.

I would’ve protected you.

Because that was my job, you know. To protect you. And I failed.

I miss you.

I miss how we’d stay up watching crappy reality TV shows on nights where neither of us could sleep after a case. I miss the nights you’d let me read to you, your head on my lap as you slowly drifted to sleep. I miss making breakfast with you early on a Sunday morning, on the rare occasion we got the weekend to ourselves without any interruptions from work. I miss dancing with you in our living room to whatever music you played. I never cared what song it was, only that it was you that I was dancing with.

You were my favourite song.

I hope you know how sorry I am.

I’m sorry that I’ll never get to tell you how I lied to you that day in the police station. That I’ve never regretted any words more than I do those ones. I wish I could tell you how badly I want a family with you. How nothing would make me happier than seeing little versions of ourselves that we created, that we could raise together.

I don’t think the stabbing pain I feel in my chest when I think of you will ever cease. I’ll carry the guilt of my words for the rest of my life.

Penelope says it will get better someday. But I can’t imagine a day where I wake up without you and don’t feel empty.

I love you. So much.

Forever yours,

Spencer. ‘

He clicked his lighter three times before the flame appeared. Taking a deep breath, he hovered it to the edge of the letter, watching it catch alight and begin to burn. As he watched the flames flicker in front of him, he wondered if he’d ever know peace.

If he’d ever be able to breathe again without her by his side.

He’d have to learn to live without her.

An impossible task.

#spencer reid #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid x reader #matthew gray gubler x reader #matthew gray gubler #mgg x reader #mgg #criminal minds

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crow-summoner · 4 years ago

Text

Darklina Week Day 2: Role Reversal

Sun Summoner!Darkling and Shadow Summoner!Alina

Alina, a cartographer for the Ravken Army, undertakes a dangerous mission to stay by her only friend’s side. They must cross the Forge, a hellscape of intense heat and unrelenting light that has torn their country in two. Nothing can survive the Forge for long. Nothing but the monsters that call it home. Alina thinks she and Mal will make it as long as they’re together, but when their mission falls to pieces, Alina discovers something shocking about herself. She can banish light. Her powers draw the attention of the Golden General, a military leader who scares and intrigues Alina in equal measure. One thing’s for sure. Alina can’t go back to life of a mouse, and the General’s her best option to fight for something more. Can Alina save her world, or will she die trying?

Or, an AU where light powers aren’t necessarily good, and shadow powers get to be heroic. Content warning for some volcra expy related gore and some canon-consistent sprinkles of Malina at the beginning. There’s plenty of Darkles after that, now with extra sparkles.

Story under the jump

The Forge

Alina sits at the inn window, adding the last buttery yellow lines to her painting. For being such a blight against their nation, the Forge made a lovely landscape. She dons her fabrikator sunglasses, and turning her back to the unrelenting sunlight, she lifts her tented mirror up to compare her painting to the real thing. Her superior officers would kill her if they knew what she was using their equipment for, but the Forge is too bright to look at directly. Her superiors may not appreciate art, but if she’s going to risk her life for more supplies, she wants to leave a memorial for herself.

“It looks too much like a vacation spot,” Mal says, dragging up a chair so he can sit next to her. He’s already wearing his glasses and darkened veil, which will supposedly keep the Forge from boiling their eyes out and trap moisture near their faces. Alina would be happier if more than army issued fashion stood between her and certain death.

“You make a pretty bride, you know that?” Alina says instead of responding to the criticism. There were enough horrors in the Forge. She wanted make something pleasant. She places her canvas between the shelf and the wall, hoping that someone working at the inn will find it.

Mal huffs. “You wouldn’t say that if you saw the bags under my eyes. Don’t know how people sleep around here.”

Alina supposes people can get used to anything, even perpetual daylight. She secures her mirror and knives to her belt and dons her veil and gloves. She shimmies down the narrow walkway as if showing off the latest fashion. “What do you think?”

Mal makes a show of considering it, rubbing his chin under the veil. “I think the sveta will be too smitten to eat you.”

Alina tilts her head in mock coyness. “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s said to me.” She leaves it unspoken that she wishes someone else was smitten with her.

“Come on,” Mal says, taking her by the arm. “I want to be on time for once.”

By the time they reach the skiff, Alina and Mal are five minutes late. Thankfully, Alexei, her fellow cartographer, covered for her.

“You owe me,” he says, shoving her maps into her hands.

“I’ll bake you a cake,” Alina promises.

“You already owe me twelve cakes!”

“Then I’ll name my first born after you.”

Alexei snorts. “Like any of us are going to live long enough to have kids. We’re all going to be beef jerky in a few hours.”

“Squeak. Squeak, Alexei.” It’s the code their cartographers have for when Alexei’s boundless optimism is bringing them down.

Normally, Alexei would grumble but acquiesce. Today, he just stares at the skiff. “Do you really think the sveta are real?”

Alina shrugs. “What else could eat our men out there?” Admittedly, invisible creatures made of light sounded farfetched, but she’s seen the battle scars. Other soldiers had claw mark scars across their chest and spots where something inhuman had taken a bite out of them. The light could blister, burn and tan flesh, but it couldn’t do that.

“I dunno. Maybe him,” Alexei said, eyeing the golden carriage in the distance. “The Geldling.”

Alina quickly hushes him. General Kirigan tolerates others calling him the Golden General, but he does not take kindly to the Geldling. Sure, the epitaph was based on an old Kerch word for gold, but gelding is also what one did to a prized horse to keep it docile. It was as good as saying their leader is a ballless pet, and everyone knows it.

Sure enough, one of the heartrenders lifts his veil and glares at them. He might have been handsome once, but his sour expression makes the lines on his face hard.

“Captain Herring may be rough, but he’s not a cannibal.” Alina hopes this is enough to cover over their mistake. The heartrender doesn’t look convinced, but he doesn’t fight them either. That suited Alina well enough.

“Watch what you say,” she whispers to Alexei. “We have to depend on these people to survive. Don’t make them mad.”

Alexei nods. “Sorry.”

Thankfully, the rest of their time at the dock goes smoothly. Soon, all the soldiers and Girsha gather inside the metal skiff, ready to take off. A tidemaker hoses them all down, making Alina feel like a drenched rat, but the water is important in such a hot place.

Alina makes sure to stand by Mal, gripping his arm for support as the skiff slides along the sand. There’s enough space to move around, but something about the lack of windows makes the room feel unbearably tight. It’s like one big coffin.

Squeak, squeak, Alina tells herself. No one’s going to die today.

The skiff rattles as they pass over marker zero. They’re officially in the Forge. The panels in the side of the skiff slide up. Rows of dark nets allow squallers to force air out without letting the light in. They’ll have to use the tinted mirrors along the sides of the skiff to direct it.

Alina fans herself, wishing the nets could ease the heat. She was drenched just minutes ago, but her uniform’s now bone dry. Sure, the tidemakers periodically release a mist from their fancy containers and push it around the cabin, but that’s like giving a starving man a single bite.

“I bet I can sweat more than you,” Mal jokes, and she’s sure it’s to help distract her. Even the dumbest man in their unit wouldn’t brag about that.

“No way. Sweat more than that heartrender over there, and you have a deal,” she whispers back. It was a hard challenge. The heartrender already smelled like he’d bathed in nothing but used socks for years.

Mal leans back in shock. “Yikes. Are you trying to kill me? I can’t beat that.”

Alexei sniffs beside them, rubbing under his veil. “My lids are scraping my eyeballs.”

Alina reaches over and slaps his hand the way she used to do with the younger kids at the orphanage. “Then stop picking at them.”

Alexei mumbles. He’s a good cartographer, but he also comes from money, and that didn’t always make for a good soldier. Alina wonders if she should have erased his name instead of Ruby’s. This mission called for two cartographers, and Ruby could withstand discomfort better than he could, but Alina wasn’t thinking rationally. Mal was going to go into the Forge by himself, and Alina needed to remove someone so she could forge her own name on the mission papers. Mal wouldn’t give Alexei a second glance, but Ruby had red hair and a slim figure. Alina couldn’t risk Mal having “glad we’re still alive” sex with her after the mission. It was petty, childish even, but Alina couldn’t help herself. If they all survive the skiff, she’ll woman up and tell Mal how she feels. Lord knows hanging in this middle ground wasn’t doing either of them any favors.

The skiff shakes, and Alexei grabs the walls. “Saints! It’s the sveta.”

The squaller at the helm shushes him. “Just a bump. Don’t call attention to us.”

Alexei’s shoulders slump, but he retakes his position behind the squaller without another word.

Alina can’t help but lean around her squaller to peak in her mirror. She’d heard about calcified roots surviving the Forge long after the crops perished. The real thing must be prettier than the paintings. Instead of a root, Alina finds the fragments of a skull and the front of a skiff.

She steps back, her stomach sinking into her boots. It’s one thing to know the odds, but it’s another to stare the evidence in the face. Better men than them have failed to cross.

The crew stand in silence as the skiff passes the first marker. Alina gives her squaller the proper directions and distances, and soon they pass the second marker. The third. The fourth. Alina allows herself to hope. Just eleven more and they’re home free.

She scratches her arm, and flakes of dry skin come off. No wonder the skiff regulars look like leather. She’d rather go AWOL than do this again. Then again, she didn’t have be here this time either. She has no one to blame but herself.

The skiff rumbles and tilts. It’s just another bump, she assures herself, but something raps against the ceiling. The heartrenders tense up, and the squallers shift their positions.

Oh, no.

She checks on Mal just to be sure, but he’s clutching his gun tight, his head tilted up. It’s the same stance he took when he found that rabbit in a barren forest or when he was about to catch her during hide and seek. He’s sighted something, only this time, that something is stronger than them.

The squaller at the helm brings the skiff to a stop and signals for the shooters and heartrenders to take position. All the non-combat staff – cartographers included – must gather at the center. Alina takes out her knife and her tented mirror, praying she won’t have to use them.

“Protect yourselves if you must,” the squaller whispers, “but don’t get in anyone’s way.”

Alina’s never felt more useless in her life.

The skiff continues to shake, harder this time. Something whines above them. Something answers it’s call from somewhere in front of them. Another whine sounds from behind the skiff. From all sides. How many of them are out there? At least a dozen given the sheer number of cries. No one dares make a sound. The sveta are fierce, but they’re just as blind as a human in the Forge. Maybe if they don’t hear anything, they’ll get bored and hunt elsewhere.

The ceiling dents in with a clank, knocking the skiff to the right. One of the soldiers jumps at the sound, aiming where it came from. The squaller at the helm blows him away, but not in time. The shot blows a hole in the ceiling, letting the light in. The beam hits a tidemaker’s shoulders, carving a smoking black line through her kefta. She screams, tearing off the cloth to expose a blistering gash. A healer pulls her to the side as one her friends tries to stifle her screams with a damp cloth, but it’s too late. The sveta cries draw closer.

Something claws a large hole through the ceiling, the soldiers scrambling to avoid the new beams. Some squallers attempt to blow up a tarp to cover the open areas, but it stops in thin air. No. Not thin air. The tarp drapes over something Alina can’t see with her naked eye. Under the plastic, she can make out its large, pointed wings and snout.

“Blast it,” the squaller at the helm shouts, and the soldiers open fire on the creature. It whines, batting away the tarp, and then it’s gone.

For a moment, no one makes a move. The cabin is utterly silent. Then something flashes across Alina’s mirror, and the next thing she knows, the soldier beside her explodes in a splash of red. On the other side of the skiff, a healer’s hand disappears. He draws back, clutching his now bloody stump as one of the creatures screeches in triumph.

Alina backs up, though there’s nowhere left to go. Oh, saints. She should have never come here. She begs every saint she can think of to forgive whatever sin brought her to this horrible moment. Shooting her fellow man in combat. Wishing harm to the girls Mal so much as looked at. Disregarding Ana Kuya’s rules at every turn. Whatever it was, she repented. Just please don’t let her die at some monster’s hand.

The durasts burst dust in the air. It makes their own people cough, but it helps make the sveta more visible.

BAM!

Another chunk of ceiling caves in, forcing the crew to huddle along the perimeter to escape the light. Not all of them were quick enough. Several soldiers blister and peel, crying as the sveta tear off chunks of flesh from their bodies.

Alina can only stare. It’s too late for prayers. Too late to run. She should have talked Mal into fleeing while she had the chance, and now ... Alina holds out her mirror, a new hope setting in. They might not make it out, but she can at least die by Mal’s side. He has to know how she feels.

Alina slowly shifts through the chaos, dodging shots and beams of light. She finds him by the helm, taking deep breaths as he aims and shoots. Something heavy hits the floor, gurgling. Of course. Leave it to Mal to find the creatures without a mirror.

She shines her mirror in the direction the creature fell, hoping to avoid tripping its body, but to her surprise, she can just make out the sheen of its skin. The colors change as she tilts the mirror, first blue, then pink and maybe green. All the colors of the rainbow. It reminds her of looking through a prism. Not invisible then. The sveta are just reflective.

Alina giggles. Ana Kuya would be so proud of her, committing to her education even as she’s about to die. She keeps giggling over and over, knowing that if she stops, she’ll have to cry. There are just so many bodies around her. They used to be people, and now they’re meat.

Someone grabs her wrist, and a shot of energy courses through her, quieting the hysteria. Mal drags her beside him.

“I’m sorry,” she says, but he’s busy readying his next shot. “I lo – ” She doesn’t get any further. Another soldier’s bullet ricochets off the wall and hits Mal in the shoulder. He doubles over, his gun clattering to the floor.

Alina drops her mirror, pressing a palm against the wound. The blood seeps from between her fingers no matter how hard she tries to stop the flow.

Mal slides to the floor, Alina crouching beside him. The light streams against them, burning her chest and his back. The pain means nothing compared to the loss.

“No. Not like this,” she says, covering Mal’s body with her own.

The pain in her back only lasts a second. It occurs to her that this is not a good thing. It means her nerves have been eaten away, but she’s glad to do it if it means Mal can live.

Something rumbles in the pit of her stomach. She feels like she’s going to burst, and she doesn’t have the strength to fight it.

All around her, the creatures cry and flap their wings erratically. She doesn’t have time think about it as the world goes dark, sinking her into a deep oblivion.

*****************************

Alina wakes, draped over someone’s shoulder, face buried in the red cloth of his kefta. She only lifts her head for one moment, but the light’s unbearable.

The light?

“Mal,” Alina shouts. She wiggles to free herself from the Grisha’s grip. The sveta will come back at any moment. She has to find Mal. Protect him. Where is he?

But they’re not on the skiff anymore. They’re back at the dock, the skiff a shredded husk. People rush every which way, some tending to the wounded and some salvaging the cargo from the hold. Mal could be anywhere among them. Then Alina catches sight of the ground. Oh, saints! So many people lay unmoving on the dock, and Grisha and First Army soldiers keep dragging out more. All these people she trained with. Ate with. Sung bawdy songs with when they’d all had too much kvas. Dead. They can’t all be gone. Right? Right?

Alina kicks at the Grisha. She needs to see for herself who made it out. Mal better be among them. Of course, he would be. He was the best tracker Ravka’s ever seen. He’d always find his way back home. Home to her.

The Grisha swears at her, trying to stop her feet with one arm. “Be still.” She recognizes him. The heartrender that had sneered at Alexei’s comment earlier. Alina drives a fist in the heartrender’s back. If Grisha like him had done more they wouldn’t be in the situation. He did it on purpose, didn’t he? He let their soldiers die because someone spoke against his leader. His pride meant more than the supplies they’d get from West Ravka. More than human life.

“Fine.” With a huff, the Grisha drops her flat on her butt, sand puffing in her face. She’s coughing too much to fight him off when the heartrender takes her by her bicep and drags her towards the camp. Another heartrender takes her other arm, his grip gentler than his coworker’s.

“Was that necessary, Ivan?” The second heartrender asked.

Ivan only grunts “Fedyor” as a warning in response. Fedyor shakes his head with what Alina would call fondness if she thought anyone could be fond of something as sour as Ivan.

“Where’s Mal?” Alina asks Fedyor, but he only lifts a brow. Of course, he wouldn’t recognize the name of a common solider. There were so many of them, and Grisha only concerned themselves with their own. “The boy I was with on the skiff.”

“Ah. Him,” Fedyor says. “The First Army tends to their own wounded. He’s in their care.”

Alina knows what that means. He’s laying outside the infirmary tent, waiting for his turn to have an undertrained medic pour alcohol in his wounds then pack them with mustard plaster. If he’s lucky, they’ll still have enough bandages for him to get his own. Having to use the scraps from old uniforms inevitably led to infection, and without supplies from the west, the camp outpost could not provide the steady diet of alcohol needed to survive that misery. Mal is popular, though. She’s sure someone will be willing to sacrifice their stash for his comfort.

Then it occurs to her that she’s not doing the same thing. She’d been horribly burned by the light, and yet her back doesn’t ache. Someone must have removed her jacket while Alina was unconscious, but her undershirt is scorched where the light hit it. Her chest is unusually red, but it’s not blistering or charred. The worst she can say is that she feels like she’s been awake for days.

“Why would someone heal me?” She’s heard it a thousand times before. Healers were too rare to waste on common soldiers. They were for Grisha and those wealthy enough to be a priority. She is neither, and yet when she looks up at Fedyor, he’s gazing down at her with some feeling she dares not define. It was the same look the Grisha gave the golden carriage when it barreled into the encampment. The same look the peasants near Keramzin gave the bones of Saint Felix on his day of worship. If she didn’t know better, she’d call it reverence.

They stare at each other for what feels like an eternity when he finally says, “We survived.” Alina doesn’t know what she has to do with that. It was luck. Pure and simple. But then Fedyor closes his eyes and whispers, “Thank you.”

A chill runs through Alina despite the heat. She looks at the tents, the people running around them, anywhere and everywhere but at Fedyor and that look, full of expectations she can never fill. They’ve long since passed the First Army section, but they’re now leaving the main Grisha area, heading up the northmost path. There’s nothing there except for the single yellow tent towering over the rest of the encampment.

Alina pulls back, but it does nothing to stop the heartrenders. “What does the General want with me?”

“Just answer his questions, so we call all get on with our day,” Ivan says.

“I don’t know anything! Let go of me!” She turns to look back at the First Army camp, too far away for anyone to see her let alone help. Not that they could do anything if they wanted to. No one says no to the General.

Fedyor grips the back of her neck, and her whole body turns to puddy. The heartrenders lean into her, holding her upright because her knees can no longer bear her weight. She’s too relaxed to move at all.

Ivan sniffs. “You weren’t supposed to do that for anyone but me.”

Fedyor grins. “Sorry, luv. Desperate times and all that.”

They march her straight into the lion’s den.

She doesn’t know what she expected to see. A jeweled throne and a menagerie of exotic animals like the ones she’d seen in the illustrated book of fairy tales back at the orphanage? Enemy soldiers kept in cages and chained otkazat’sya serving the Grisha like the Fjerdan pamphlet a traveler tried to give them before Ana Kuya kicked them off the duke’s property? But this place resembled the main tent for the First Army. Soldiers clustered together around a round table. A large map hung from a board, thread and pegs marking paths, places and interesting parties. And yet the General’s tent was larger than theirs, made of bulletproof core cloth while they had to make do with spun cotten. They must not need to ration oil either given the number of lamps lit, and the gathered Grisha shone like banners in their blue, red and purple keftas. No olive drab for them.

Most of the room turned to face them when the heartrenders dragged Alina in. Some now look at her with open curiosity and others with incredulous expressions. Soft mummers pass through the crowd until someone raises their hand, and the whole lot fall silent. Saints, Alina never heard a tent so quiet before. Even during lights out, at least one person snored.

Without needing to be told, the Grisha step back, parting down the center to make a path. A lone man strides forward, his telltale yellow kefta billowing around him. Notes of silver, white and gold weave through it, enough thread to stitch three tents of this size together, but he’s not wearing the jewelry she’d expect from his high rank, and his clothes are core cloth like any other Grisha. She’s never seen a high officer without any silk on, no matter how impractical it might be. After all, most never saw battle. Not like this one had.

The Golden General is younger than she’d expected given what others said about him. She’d seen a shriveled man with boney hands covered in warts in her mind’s eye, but this man barely had a decade on her, and his warm blonde hair and fair, flawless complexion were pleasing on the eyes. Too pleasing. Even the most beautiful boy back home had some freckle or ruddiness to his skin, but the General’s looks almost painted on. It’s eerie, and yet she can’t look away. He’s like the very embodiment of the light, except there’s a coldness in his gaze and calm comportment.

He may be light, but he’s not warmth.

That right, she tells herself. Ana Kuya warned her about such things before. One of the orphans she’d grown up with saw a gold coin glittering in some bushes under a hill. He’d climbed down for it, only to be rolled by some travelers. They took the buttons from his coat and the boots from his feet. He came home with nothing but his pants and a gash on his forehead. Ana Kuya warned them all then: not all that’s gold glitters. Sometimes, it burns instead. Gold tempts the desperate, but Alina is not blind. The General only looked like a man. He can boil someone’s insides. Make their flesh rot from their bone as if they were already dead. Burn them with a glance. And here he is, looking straight at her.

The General stops a few feet away and clasps his hands behind his back. He looks her over, and she doesn’t know whether to be scared or grateful that she can’t read what conclusions he’s drawn. He nods at the heartrenders, and Fedyor rubs the back of Alina’s neck. Her limbs come back to life, panic rising from her core. She wants to run, but there’s no point.

The General stares at her, impassive, and then finally: “Is it true?”

For a moment, Alina believes the absurd. He’s read her thoughts and knows what she said about him being a monster. Then it occurs to her that he’s talking about the skiff. She closes her eyes. What does he want her to say? She was unconscious for most of what went down, and she can barely remember what she was present for. Flashes of her coworker’s blood and blistering arms intrude behind her closed lids, forcing them open again. Maybe it’s best she can’t remember.

She must have taken too long to answer because the General speaks again. “Is it true that you can banish the light?”

All Alina can do is blink. This has to be a joke, but the General’s expression is serious, and everyone around them is leaning in with anticipation. She knows better than to laugh in their faces and question their intelligence, so she makes do by stuttering, “No one can do that.” It takes a moment, but she remembers to add a quick “sir.” She’s not used to being around anyone important.

She braces herself for him to yell at her the way the generals in their army do, but he merely nods. “Then what did happen?”

Alina struggles for an answer. She tries to tell him that she doesn’t know how the sveta got in, or how their ship made it, but no matter what she says, she keeps returning to those burning soldiers. The General frowns, and she knows she needs to come up with something – anything – to appease him.

The General raises a hand to silence her, and when he speaks, his tone is smooth and calm. “It must have been scary out there. It’s one thing to read about the attacks, but it’s another to live it.”

Alina hadn’t expecting any sympathy, so she just nods.

“You must be exhausted.” When Alina nods again, the General continues. “It’s hard to make sense of anything when you hurt so much. I could help with that if you’ll let me.” He gestures beside him, inviting her closer.

He may have asked for permission, but Alina isn’t sure she really has a choice. Still, he’s been nothing but polite so far. She has nothing to lose by playing along.

Alina slowly closes the gap between them, and the closer she gets, the closer she wants to get. It’s like he’s a magnet, and she’s loose filigree coming together for the first time. She feels the warmth now, not in his continence, but all around him. It doesn’t burn. It doesn’t tingle. It numbs the heaviness of her limbs and banishes the panic that’s haunted her since the skiff penetrated the Forge. Before she knows it, Alina’s pressed up against the General. She’s vaguely aware that it’s not appropriate to stand so close to a superior, and it’s definitely not safe to be within biting distance of a monster, but it feels right. She doesn’t want to be anywhere else.

The General doesn’t seem to mind either, staring deep into her eyes like he’s trapped, too. Her reflection stares back at her in his eyes. They’re just so bright and shiny. She has a hard time placing the color. It reminds her of one of the duke’s vases. The blown glass was iridescent and shimmered with every color around it. She and Mal had argued for years over what color it really was. He said purple. She said green. They finally settled things with a good arm wrestle. Green won, of course. Alina decides that the General’s eyes are green, too.

“May I?” He asks, and though she can’t see where he’s pointing, she answers his unspoken request, sliding her hand in his. His palms are rough from life on the road, but they’re warm, and his grip os gentler than Fedyor’s had been. She could hold his hand and stare into his eyes forever.

“What happened?” The General asks in a voice softer than silks.

The words spill out of Alina on their own. She tells him about forging her name on the staff list. The attack. Shielding Mal. The sveta descending on them, and then – “All I could look at was him, but I could feel the light getting sucked away. Everything went black, and then I woke up on the docks.”

The General says nothing, but his eyes briefly narrow. It’s not a threat as far as Alina can tell. Whatever she said seemed to confirm something for him. The General pushes up her sleeve with his free hand, never breaking her gaze. She doesn’t fight it. She’s curious, too. Something happened back on that skiff. It’s there lurking there in the back of her brain, begging to be revealed. She knows once it’s free, it can never be caged again. The thought simultaneously thrills her and makes her shiver.

The General trails one finger up her arm. Something inside her responds to act, rejoices in it. His finger stops and curls around her forearm. She notes that the nail on his thumb is longer than the others. Sharp. He drives that nail into her flesh, and it’s like a thousand arms stream out of her at once.

Darkness surrounds them, putting out the lights. No, the lamps are still on. She can feel their flames licking at the shadows just as easily as she can feel the General’s grip on her arm. All around them, the Grisha shout. She can’t see them so much as she feels where they are in the dark. It the strangest sensation, and yet it feels like home. Everything is darkness.

Everything but him.

The General glows, smiling down at her. A true lamp would illuminate the world around them, but there he stands, the sole bright spot in the blackness. Standing together, it feels like they’re the only two people in the world. Then the General lets go of her arm and the darkness withers, fading into the ground or retreating under Alina’s skin to fight another day.

Alina clutches her chest, suddenly empty inside. Her head swivels every which way, desperate to find that surety again, but it’s gone. The aches have returned, magnified tenfold. She can barely keep herself upright, and soon, she’s on her knees, her head swimming.

“A shadow summoner,” some squaller says, and it’s as if a dam broke in Alina’s mind. She stares at her rough, ruddy hands. They’re not the hands of a hero, and yet it’s true. It’s all true. She can banish the light. She saved the skiff from the Forge.

She’s … Grisha.

Alina frowns, remembering what Mal said when that Grisha girl made eyes at him from the General’s carriage. He doesn’t tumble witches. Alina was glad to hear it then. It meant less competition for her, and she and Mal had exchanged plenty of digs at the Grisha over the years. Surely, he wouldn’t think she’s like the rest of them just because she has powers. She didn’t grow up coddled and self-important like the rest of them. That had to count for something. He knew her. The real her. He wouldn’t be scared of her because of her shadows.

No matter how hard Alina tries, she can’t bring herself to believe it.

The General holds out his hand. Alina stares up at him, sure she should bat it away. She’s not one of his Grisha. She’s a mapmaker and an orphan and Mal’s best friend. But that may not be true anymore, and she’d be a fool to burn any bridges.

She takes his hand, letting the General lift her to her feet. He pulls her close again, so close she can feel his breath against her face. She should let go, but she clings to his hand like it’s the last safe ledge in a rockslide. He gives her a knowing smirk, and she wants to wipe it off his stupid face. She’s had a rough day. She would have clung to literally anybody, but then the General leans in, and she feels that warmth again. His lips brush her ear as he whispers, “You and I are going to change the world.”

Notes:

Whoo! This is my first Grishaverse fanfic. It may be a little late, but it’s here. One shot for now, but I might be interested in continuing this in the future. Hope you enjoyed!

#shadow and bone #grisha trilogy #darklinadaily #darklinaweek2021 #the darkling #alina starkov #darklina

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otterbagel · 4 years ago

Text

The Reunion (Part 2) Simon x Reader

Reader makes a rash decision, one that has long lasting consequences.

(Notes: Link to part 1! Hope you enjoy the rest of the story. :) )

The air in the building was tense as you stood in the elevator, watching the numbers slowly rise.

The police had mostly left by now, all that remained were a few cleanup crews who were, for the most part, still here just to avoid going to their next assignment. Not that you blamed them; this had been quite a scary day.

Since you weren't in charge of anything big, you hadn't even known anything was going on until the broadcast had nearly finished. You had been… what had you been doing? Vetting some stories you had found to be a bit too mundane for publication. Even though the strange interference had originated from a few floors above you, it took a panicked employee yelling at the TV for you to notice.

There wasn't much anyone could do; police and security had already been notified. Just watching the skinless android on screen was the most productive thing your team could possibly do.

And watch they did. A few were visibly jittery, talking about barricading the doors just in case they decided to come down here— although the thought of an android group demanding an entertainment piece be written about their exploits almost got a chuckle out of you— others were more frustrated and annoyed. Older employees trying to figure out how the topmost office was sieged so quietly, annoyed that they might have to stay late, even discussions about who sent the androids.

Through it all you had remained calm, trying to lead the group as best you could through the confusion.

The elevator dinged.

But despite how you tried to compose yourself, you couldn't help but feel a sense of fear… and a deep longing.

You stepped out, the hallway devoid of any life. The usual guards up here had been knocked out and were probably taking a very long vacation.

At the very end of the hallway, right before the broadcasting room, stood a couple of human guards; you doubted they would risk using any androids up here for the foreseeable future.

With the hallway as empty as it was, the guards immediately took notice of you.

"Hey, what's your business up here?" One asked in a gruff voice.

You held up your keycard, a passive way of showing your status. "I wanted to get a better look at the room," you pulled out your cellphone, gently shaking it in the air in an attention attracting manner. "Wanted to get some photos too— we don't have any good ones to use for our article on it."

He appeared to ponder it for a moment before stepping aside, his partner following suit. He gave a nod.

With a quick stride you entered the room.

It appeared to have been deep cleaned, no trace of what had occurred. Some furniture had been moved aside, likely for cleaning.

Angling some of the less disturbed areas into the view of your phone's camera, you snapped a few quick pictures through the thickness of your throat.

It felt eerie to be standing here.

That android had been standing in nearly this exact location just hours ago, demanding rights and freedoms… that sort of talk would have him destroyed.

And yet… you completely agreed with him.

Your hands tensed on your phone as you looked to the floor.

Why couldn't this have happened two years earlier?

Why couldn't it have happened before that day?

...It didn't matter. He was far away, and safe from this sort of persecution. Maybe in Canada where no android laws existed… or maybe he was still in the States, just in a rural place and pretending to be human.

At least, that's what you told yourself to help you sleep at night.

You shook the thought away. There was no use thinking about him now.

Bringing yourself back to reality, you took a cursory glance around the room. You didn't get to come up here very often, maybe once or twice in the year you had been writing for them.

With the TV screen off, it was oddly empty looking in here.

There seemed to be a couple of points of interest: a darkened break room and a stairway to the roof.

Wasn't the roof where the deviants jumped?

That would be an interesting photo. You doubted there were many before the incident.

You climbed the dark stairs, taking in a deep, cold breath before you opened the outside door.

Chills ran down your hand and up your arm before you even had the door fully open.

You let the door shut behind you, as you crossed your arms to ward off the cold. Being this high up made the wind much rougher than you were used to.

The edge of the building was daunting. You hesitated to even approach it, lest a stray gust of wind send you sailing over. Without those parachutes, the intruders would've never made it back down in one piece.

The wind was a bit much. You took a few quick pictures before stepping closer to some of the walls. At least it would give some sort of protection.

There was a loud clanging noise nearby that made your phone fall out of your hands.

After you got over your moment of frozen alarment, you kneeled down to scoop up your phone, eyes wide and looking for the source.

Had that been the wind? Wouldn't you have heard it earlier if it was something that continuous and natural?

You crept around the large, metal ducts. Had to be from one of those.

There was an entrance to one of the metal compartments. That seemed to be the only place left for anyone to hide.

A worried thought crossed your mind: had someone been stuck up here during the panic?

Heading towards the door at a more brave pace, you stood a foot near the entrance with your hand reached for the handle. You paused, your more cautious nature pulling your hand away ever so slightly.

"H-hello?" You questioned quietly towards the door.

Silence.

You exhaled a tense breath, your hand making its way to the metallic door.

You knocked against it.

A loud fumbling noise from inside and the clicking of a gun sent you stumbling backwards and into a panic. This had to be a deviant, somehow left behind in the chaos.

"You don't wanna shoot me," your voice was higher pitched than usual as you fought against the wind and deep seated terror for breath. "The shots will be really loud. People will hear."

"Just," the android's voice was hard to make out, the echo in the compartment distorting his words. "Just go away. Leave me alone. I just want to be left alone."

After an extra second to make out what he said, you rose to a crawl and sat beside the door. "Why are you still up here?" You questioned. He didn't seem hostile.

He was quiet for a while. "I was injured," he explained. "I couldn't make the jump. I wanted to see if I could get back down tonight."

You nodded to yourself in understanding. "So… you're a part of that group of deviants? Are there a lot of them?"

Things went uncomfortably quiet until he spoke up again. "...why would you like to know?"

You licked your lips, struggling to verbalize the thoughts you had had bouncing around in your head for two years. "I… was friends with an android," you began wistfully and with a small chuckle. "I was wondering if he was okay, that's all."

The android went quiet again, the sound of what seemed to be him shuffling around inside to get more comfortable filling the silence.

"I… well I find it hard to believe," he remarked softly. "A lot of humans are very cruel… few seem to care about what happens to us."

He was right. It seemed that nobody cared about androids or bonded with them the way you had Simon. You couldn't understand the cruelty they could have towards androids if they did.

You placed a hand to your chest. "I know that humans are normally cruel," you began. "B-but I honestly cared about him so much. I would've given anything for us to be together. I swear it."

You stared at the ground while the android thought to himself.

"I was lucky," the deviant began. "The human I knew was very kind. I had been discarded over and over… and reset every time. I wasn't as useful as other androids."

You let your head rest against the metal as you listened.

"Then… they bought me. I knew I had been reset a lot… and expected they would do it too after they got bored of me…" his voice trailed until it was interrupted by a halfhearted laugh. "But they didn't. They treated me like a person. They… respected me. I felt like I might have had a future with them. A future where I wasn't just an object or a maid, but someone who brought meaning into the world."

You let his story hang in the air while you thought of your own tale. You could only hope you had made Simon feel the same way.

"When I… bought him," you felt gross saying it. "I didn't know much about androids. But after spending time with him, I knew he was so much more than what everyone tried to tell me. Just how… how beautiful of a person he was. He had to be more than that. I was excited to see him when I got home, to tell him about my day and to hear about his. He meant everything to me."

The android's tone was calm. "It sounds like you loved him."

You smiled to yourself, rubbing your hands together to warm them. "I still do," you responded, before the torrent of regrets washed over you like an unforgiving wave.

It had been such a dumb mistake. But even the simplest slip-ups can destroy lives.

You collapsed into sorrowful laughter, covering your face with a tense hand as you tried to hold back your overflowing emotions. "It was so stupid!" You exclaimed, lost in your own thoughts. "I… he needed repairs— his previous people were horrible… if I ever…"

You shook away the thought to get back on track.

"He… he needed skin repairs, so I thought it would be okay to go to a Cyberlife repair shop. But I didn't even think about whether they would check who his real 'owners' were," you spat. "When they found out how we had met, they were going to take him away. He had no choice but to run away. We were out of options."

The android was quiet, but you were too emotional to pay much attention.

"It was just one mistake! If I had just gone anywhere else… we could still be together." Your sorrow was brief before passion returned to your heart, directing your attention back to the metal door that was separating you and the android. "You have more androids with you, right? You don't have to tell me anything else, I just want to know if he's okay. His name is Simon. Have you met him? Please, tell me you have!"

Loud, metallic fumbling came from the other side of the door before it flung open. You scuttled backwards in alarm.

The blonde android nearly collapsed out of the doorway, his arm sliding off the door and onto the ground as held himself up to get a better look at you.

It was him.

He appeared troubled, but was fighting off a smile. "How… what are you doing here?" He whispered.

"S… Si…" you stuttered, unable to get out his name in case it separated you two again.

You snatched him up into your arms, enveloping him in a tight hug. He fumbled to return the gesture, letting his head rest on one of your shoulders.

"I… I can't believe it," you sobbed. "It's you! You're here! You're actually h-here!"

His hands gripped your clothing as if he was worried you would slip away. "But how are you here?" he asked, his voice shaking.

"I work here now," you choked out through a laugh. "What are the odds?"

"I can't believe this!" Simon fell into a bout of laughter himself. "I get to see you again!"

You knew that whatever lied ahead for the androids and humanity, nothing would separate you two again.

#dbh x reader #dbh simon x reader

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jawabear · 4 years ago

Note

Hi~ Can I request a fic? for season 3 Javier Peña. Maybe some soft Javi. With y/n being a colleague, but struggling to get back to work because of mental trauma. If that's ok with you.

Don’t leave (Javier Peña X Reader)

Not my GIF

A/N: Hey! Here’s another request for my sweetheart Javi. Thanks to anon for helping out a little more. However, I feel like this isn’t great? But I really hope you like it. Thank you for requesting! I hope you enjoy it! Sorry for any mistakes. Stay safe.

Genre: Angst, fluff

Warnings: fem!reader, injury detail, mentions of blood, violence, tears, mental trauma, comfort

Summary: After a mission turns south and months of being off work, she has to face the reality of going back to work.

She didn’t know what came over her.

Everything moved in slow motion as one of the men lifted their gun and pointed it over at Javier. She wasn’t in control of her legs as she ran between them.

Her blood seemed to run cold when the gun went off. There was a ringing in her ear. She could hear another muffled gun shot and the muffled call of her name but she couldn’t move. She couldn’t do anything other than fall to the ground.

“Fucking shit (Y/N)!” Javi yelled as he crawled over to her lifted her shaking torso into his lap. “Why the fuck did you do that, you idiot!” he scaled her. He pulled his radio from his belt and gave an order to call for an ambulance before he threw his radio to the ground.

She looked up at him with wide eyes full of fear. She was barely breathing and her lips were trembling. He looked down her body to her stomach that was flooding blood that was seeping into her blue shirt. “J-Javi..” she whimpered. Her voice was barely there though.

“The ambulance is on its way (Y/N). You’re going to be okay” he told her trying not to cry at the sight of her lying petrified in his arms. “You’re gonna be okay (Y/N)”

Javier didn’t move from her. He held her almost lovingly in his arms, gently stroking her hair as he whispered the same words to her over and over again, it got to the point where he was more convincing himself than her was convincing her. But she never responded to him. She just continued to stare at him with the same terrified eyes.

“Peña, la ambulancia está aquí” (Peña, the ambulance is here) a voice came over the discarded radio beside him.

He picked up the radio and put it back on his belt. “Hold on (Y/N)” he whispered to her. He slipped one arm under her knees and the other under her torso and carefully lifted her into his arms as he stood and walked as quickly as he could outside where the ambulance was waiting.

The paramedics raced over to him seeing the state that (Y/N) was in. He walked her over to the ambulance and placed her onto the bed on the inside. She gripped hold of him like her life depended on it, because it felt like it did. She felt that if she let go of him, that would be it for her. “Don’t leave” she whispered desperately.

“I won’t leave you (Y/N)” he told her as he managed to pry her arms from him “I’ll come see you. But you need to go right now”

“Javi..” he had to ignore her as he jumped out of the back of the ambulance. He took one last look at her, tears beginning the fall down her cheeks, either from pain or from the fact he was leaving her. He felt unbelievable guilt wash over him but he had to close the doors.

(Y/N) drew in a sharp breath as she splashed water over her face bringing her back into her equally painful reality. She looked at herself in her bathroom mirror and hated the sight. Seeing how her eyes were red and puffy for her uncontrollable tears of fear. Seeing dark circles under her eyes from lack of sleep. Well, peaceful sleep. The sleep she had been getting was plagued of the memory of the event or nightmarish versions of it. Although she still hadn’t come to terms with the fact it was a reality.

But the scar on her stomach was evidence enough.

Taking in a few deep breath, she turned off the tap stopping the water. She stood there for a moment longer, griping the sink in both hands as to try and ground herself. She was trying to brace herself for today.

She knew it wasn’t going to be easy. She would most likely suffer for the whole day. But she had to go back at some point, and if she didn’t now, then she never would.

(Y/N) let out a slow breath and pushed herself off the sink and slowly made her way out of her bathroom. She now face a new challenge; getting dressed. She already had her clothes laid out on her bed, but she didn’t quiet know how to go about it. If she were in any other state, it would be simple. But the injury to her stomach made it all the more difficult.

It had been six months almost to the day since it happened. She had been at home for those six months, bored out of her mind and in incredible pain. She spent most of her day in bed for it was too much to move. Only getting up to use the bathroom, get a drink or make some food. But even doing that let her in excruciating pain and short of breath.

The highlight of her week would be when Javier would come round to visit her, to check on her. He always brought over some ice cream because it was easy to eat, plus she loved it. But since he had been delving deeper and deeper into the Cali Cartel, he had been flying between Bogotá and Cali quite a lot so his visits became less and less frequent, leaving her all alone with her nightmares.

But she didn’t blame Javi for leaving her alone. He was doing his job and she wasn’t prepared to get in the way of that. She was convinced that if it wasn’t for him, she would be dead anyway. She was immensely thankful to have him as a friend.

(Y/N) was also thankful that the ambulance showed up when it did. Not just because it meant she got to the hospital quicker, but because she was a second away from confessing how much she loved him. She believed she was in the verge of death and didn’t want to go without telling him, but she knew if she did, she would have to live with the embarrassment that he did not feel the same. They were friends. Just friends.

Somehow she managed to get changed into her fresh clothes. Today she was returning to work. Ambassador Crosby had warned her against it saying she still needed time to rest both physically and mentally, Javi said this too but she couldn’t spend another minute at home on her own. She had to get back to work.

The journey from her apartment to her car took twice as long than it should have, and the journey from her car (in her car) to the embassy was just the same, but that was partly due to traffic.

When she finally made it to the embassy, she couldn’t bring herself to get out of her car. She sat and watched people walk in and out of the building. To them, everything was normal. But to (Y/N), having to walk back into the building was like walking into the jaws of death.

(Y/N) leant her head on the steering wheel and squeezed her eyes shut, drawing in shaky breaths as she tried to calm herself down and hype herself up for going back inside. “Come on (Y/N)” she whispered to herself “you got this far. Just a few more steps and you’ll be there”

She drew in a few more breaths before grabbing her bag and pulling herself out of her car. She took her time in walking to the embassy, those who were outside gave her looks as she walked past them but she tried her best to ignore them. But when she got inside it was no better. Everyone looked at her and whispered amongst themselves. She was the desk agent that got shot. Thats what she was known as now. Not the smiley, happy, caring agent she was before. She was the one who got shot.

To get to her own office she had to walk past Javi’s. She looked into it and saw it was empty. She also noticed that Van Ness and Feistl’s desks were empty too, meaning they were all out scoping for leads in the Cali cartel, most likely in Cali.

Finally she got to her office and saw a pile of papers on her desk. At least she would have something to distract her. At the top of the pile was a note from the Ambassador welcoming her back and telling her to take it easy.

She sat down in her chair and let out a sigh as she examined the stack of files she had been left to deal with. She grabbed a pen and the top file and began getting to work trying to focus only on the paper rather than the nightmarish visions at the back of her mind crawling closer and deeper into her.

It can’t have been any more than ten minutes before she got a sharp pain in her stomach causing her to stop and sit back in her chair. She was overcome by sudden frustration at the fact that she couldn’t even do her work.

“What are you doing back?” Came a voice form the door way. She looked up and saw Javi standing there.

“Working” she mumbled picking up her pen again.

“Clearly you’re in a fit state to be working” he said.

“I cleared it with Crosby”

“And he told you to take another few weeks off” Javi stepped into her office and closed the door before taking the chair opposite her and crossing one leg over the other “like I did. Why didn’t you listen?”

“You can’t say that” she said with a slight smile “you didn’t listen to me. You remember when we were still in training and you literally shattered your leg? I told you to rest but you came back way too soon”

“That was different (Y/N)” he told her “that was my own fault”

“And so was this” she told him “I’m the one who jumped in front of the bullet after all...”

There was a heavy silence over the two of them as she just stared at the piece of paper on her desk. There were so many thing Javier wanted to say to her. So many things he could’ve said to break the silence but he was scare the open his mouth. Scared that everything he wanted to say would just tumble out of his mouth in a mess that she couldn’t understand and he’d embarrass himself in front of her. But it was selfish of him to be thinking about his own stupid problems when the woman he loved took a bullet for him. But there was one question that was at the forefront of his mind.

“Are you okay?” He asked quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. He watched her as she dropped her pen again and her bottom lip trembled. She brought her hand to her forehead and turned her head from him slightly.

(Y/N) drew in a sharp breath before she started to cry quietly. She didn’t want him to see but there was nothing that could stop him considering he was sat right in front of her. Javier stood from his chair and pulled it round to her so he was sat beside her. He rested his hands on her thighs, rubbing them in a loving manner.

“I’m sorry Javi” she sobbed into her hands “I’m so sorry”

“Hey,” he said softly as he reached out to grab her hands to pulled them from her face making her look at him. His heart sank when he saw her bloodshot, watery eyes. A similar broken look in her as to when it happened. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for” he said rubbing the back of her hands with his thumbs.

“I was an idiot...” she sniffed.

“Yeah, you were” he agreed with a nod making her laugh slightly. “But I would’ve done the same for you” he told her quietly.

“Javi..”

“I’m serious (Y/N). Had it been the other way round, I would’ve taken a bullet for you”

“I wouldn’t want you to do that for me”

“And I didn’t want you to do it for me” he said “and...I’ve never been more scared in my life” he paused for a moment. His grip on her hands tightening as he swallowed thickly trying not to cry himself. “The thought of loosing you...I couldn’t do this without you (Y/N). I couldn’t live in a world without you. You mean more to me than you will ever know...”

He saw tears fall to her hands and heard her drew in shaky breaths. He moved further to her and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into his chest. She gripped his suit jacket and sobbed into his shirt. “I’m so sorry Javier. I don’t want to live without you”

“You won’t (Y/N). I’m going to help you get through this. You will get through this” he told her placing a soft kiss to her hair “I’m not going to leave you. Not this time”

04/01/21

Taglist: @linkpk88 @phoenixhalliwell @lunaserenade

#javier peña #javier peña x reader #javier peña fanfic #narcos #pedro pascal #angst #fluff #fanfic

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kurama-is-love · 4 years ago

Text

An unusual proposal (Oneshot)

It's been a while since I wrote in english, so please bear with me if this is not perfect. English is not my first language ;-;

Oh and this time it's a female Half!Demon/Human Reader x Kurama. Just to let you know! Again as warning, much much fluff between you and Kurama.

The Dark Tournament was looking forward to its grand finale.

Team Toguro faced Team Urameshi, consisting of Yusuke, Kuwabara, Hiei and Kurama. Their fifth member, Mask, or rather Genkai, was 'killed' in battle by the younger Toguro brother the night before. Although you and your friends mourned about your deceased comrade, the others were not allowed to give in to their feelings now. One single mistake could result in the next death, everyone knew that.

You hadn't left your friend's side since the beginning of the Tournament and you were even allowed to stay at their side near the battle field. Though now you were concerned about the last battle. You had asked to stand in for Mask as the fifth participant, but before you were able to speak to the competition officials, you were prevented from doing so by your friends, mostly Yusuke and especially Kurama. It was a lengthy and exhausting discussion that followed with the two of them. Yusuke was anything but calm and tried to dissuade you from your idea with irrelevant threats for "beating the shit out of you if you continue to try to participate". Of course he would never lay a finger on a friend, especially not if he were to draw the wrath of a certain fox on him ..

Speaking of the fox. It was Kurama's empathetic and factually convincing words that finally led you to abandon your idea and not take part in the fight. As much as you hated not being able to stand by your friends, it was clear to you aswell that you would not survive 2 minutes in the ring against a member of this diabolical team from Toguro .. It was just maddening ..

Before the fight started, you cleared your throat to attract the attention of your friends.

"Before you fight, I want to get rid of something .." you began and looked at the ground slightly.

"Spit it out, [Y/n]-chan." Kuwabara tried with a calm and understanding tone of voice to reassure you that none of them were mad at you for your earlier discussions. He thought that, because you were trembling all over and he could also tell that you were fighting back tears.

"I want you .. to be extra careful this time .. Your opponents are of a completely different caliber than all your opponents before .. And if ..Uh.. when you notice that you .. can't do it .. that you. . " you stopped, the thought of what should follow your sentence stung your heart. "... you will die if you keep going .. I beg you to give up .. just give up and end the fight .. Fuck this stupid tournament, your lives are way too precious ..!" you spoke a little louder and more determined as you looked at your four friends.

Hiei's expression was disinterested as always. Kuwabara looked away, slightly embarrassed, while Kurama had put on an illegible expression. Yusuke crossed his arms before briefly closing his eyes.

"Sorry, but we can't promise that." he said then.

"W-What ..?"

When you looked up, startled, you felt a hand on your shoulder. It was Yusuke's.

"If we give up, everything was in vain. Our training, the preliminary fights. And ... also the death of that old witch ... The least we owe her is to try to defeat her killer." He continued serious, but his face showed no sign of annoyance or anger towards you. He showed you .. friendliness and a small smile. "Anyway, thank you for taking care of us all. With that knowledge, we can do our best," he added.

"B-But .." your quiet objections were stopped again when Kurama took Yusuke's place and put both hands on your shoulders. A slightly worried smile graced his pale lips.

"Yusuke is right. If we give up here, everything we have been through so far will be wasted. Besides .." he continued and his expression darkened slightly as he looked at his opponents, especially at Karasu. "..we can't allow these .. monsters to continue their mischief to continue their murders in the world of spirits, demons and humans. If we don't stop them, who should do it?" he asked you.

You didn't know the answer and looked to the side. Kurama smiled sadly and put his hand on your cheek to turn your face back to him.

"Just trust us, okay?" He said softly and lovingly before placing a gentle kiss on your lips.

"Kurama .. I trust you. But I'm still scared okay ..?"

"That's perfectly okay." The redhead whispered and you sighed softly.

"I'm serious. I don't want to go through the same fear that I did during your fight against Bakken ..."

"Mhm .."

[Flashback]

The battle against the members of Team Masho had reached worrying proportions after Kurama lost consciousness while standing shortly after he was named as the victor in the battle against the ice demon Touya by Koto. The rules of this match were like an endless battle. As long as a member could fight, he fought against any opponent. This is exactly how he had defeated Gama at first and was able to win against Touya with the last of his strength. But now the luck of the kitsune seemed to have run out when he stood bleeding and unconscious on the battlefield and Koto checked whether he was still alive.

"That's enough now! I'll take over for Kurama!" Yusuke called to the judge when the third opponent, a tall, dark-skinned man with short black hair, stepped out.

"Not so fast. That guy is still there, so I'm his opponent now." The shinobi grinned maliciously and was already flexing his fists.

"You can't be serious! You can see that he is not able to fight!" You said and looked angry at Bakken.

"You stay out of it, you brat. I say: He can fight." With these words he turned to Koto, who looked back and forth between the two parties, perplexed.

"Well .. Well .. I also think that Kurama is incapacitated. We have to wait for the decision of the competition committee before an exchange takes place .." the cat demon spoke uncertainly.

All attention was then turned to the speakers when the committee announced its decision. They disagreed with the exchange and declared Kurama's ability to fight.

Yusuke and you had to watch in shock when Bakken started hit the unconscious Kurama again and again and injured him so badly that it was a miracle if he could survive this ordeal for long. When Bakken pulled Kurama up by his top and beat him again, the fabric on the top tore and Kurama fell to the ground. Blood ran down his forehead.

While you could only watch in shock, the stadium echoed under the calls of the demonic audience, who very unanimously demanded only one thing.

"Kill him!"

"Kill him, Bakken!"

"Yes, kill this traitor !!!"

You clenched your fists in anger before turning to the bleachers.

"SHUT UP YOUR DAMN MOUTHS ALREADY!" you shouted so loudly that the stadium fell silent and Yusuke and the others looked at you too. "I CAN'T STAND YOUR HATE TIRADS ANYMORE! The next one who says anything about 'kill this bastard' will get a free ticket to hell from me. WAS THAT CLEAR?"

Your friends had seldom seen you so loud and serious. The girls, Botan, Shizuru, Keiko and Yukino were very shocked by your exclamation.

Suddenly one of the demons jumped down from the stands and stood next to you.

"Pretty loose mouth for such a shitty, weak half-breed, darling."the green-colored beast grinned and licked its lips with its iguana-like tongue. "You are nothing but a shabby one demon, who has human blood in them. It doesn't surprise me that you are on the traitors side. But don't open your mouth like that if you know what's good for you. " He threatened you.

Your eyebrow twitched menacingly as the demon extended its claws and tried to slit your stomach. You reached for your weapons, chakrams, and a reddish-orange aura flooded the metal, your Reiki, mixed with Yoki. The audience held their breath when they could only hear lightning-fast cuts and white clouds of energy sliced the demon that was attacking you until the attacker fell dead to the ground.

"Anyone else has something to say to a " failed half-breed "? you asked the ranks, but the audience fell silent before you could finally devote yourself to the fighting again.

"T-That's enough! Kurama is on the ground and can no longer fight! I think a countdown is also unnecessary .." Koto interrupted the scene now when she saw the battered Kurama.

Bakken seemed to disagree and lifted Kurama up in the air again by his top.

"Now he's standing again. That means the fight goes on."the black-haired man smirked and wanted to make the final punch that should blow out Kurama's life light forever.

"Stop. That's enough, Bakken." a masked figure behind Bakken, another member of Team Mascho, spoke up.

"Why are you stopping me, Risho? I was just about to finish it." Bakken grumbled while Risho pointed to the opposite side of the arena.

"If you had landed this punch, that would have been your death." Risho spoke only dryly, while Bakken blinked and looked in the direction in which Risho was pointing.

Yusuke and you stood there, both of you in your strongest attacking postures. Yusuke was ready to use his "Rei-Gun" while your chakrams had turned into icy-tessen (Metal fans), the tips of their spikes were reinforced with your Reiki and turned into razor-sharp blades that could be shot individually. You were both ready to kill Bakken if he made any move.

"Tch. Fine. Well, you can have him back." Bakken sighed and threw Kurama carelessly out of the ring. Yusuke and you immediately rushed to the passed out Kitsune and Yusuke carried him to the edge of the ring. You were right behind him. After Yusuke dropped him off, you kneeled down at Kurama's side and looked up your human best friend.

"Yusuke." You spoke in a serious tone. Yusuke turned to you. questioningly. "... Beat the shit out of him. Hit that asshole really hard with a greeting from me." You muttered with bared teeth. Yusuke grinned and gave you a thumbs-up.

"Rely on me, [Y/n]. I will make sure that he gets a proper rubdown. And greetings from you. Just take care of our Kurama." Yusuke answered with a wink.

You nodded gently and put your hands on Kurama's damaged chest to let your Reiki flow into his body. That should give him enough energy to activate his own self-healing powers. At least that was how it prevented him from having too little energy.

He almost died ..

When Kurama woke up a little later, he promised you to never again risk his life so lightly.

[End of flashback]

"Remember your promise." you said softly and took Kurama's hand in yours to give it an affectionate squeeze. The fox just looked at you apologetically, but he was weighing whether he could really tell you that he couldn't keep this promise.

"I'm sorry. This may be my first promise, which I can't keep, as much as I would like to. But ..." he began before you could sigh in frustration. Kurama smiled and put a strand of hair behind your ear. "I'll give you a new promise for that." He said and made you blink in curiousity.

"One that you will keep?" you asked.

Kurama smiled and pulled you close for a moment.

"Yes. I promise you, if I survive my fight against Karasu .." he almost sounded as if he didn't believe in it himself, which only unsettled you even more. "... I will take you as my wife as soon as my human body is 18 years old."

Your eyes widened, speechless, at these words. Kurama, who had sworn off love and certainly did not want to settle down in the human world, had just given you the promise of marriage if he should emerge victorious from the battle ..

"K-Kurama .." you started, touched, when the Kitsune put his index and middle fingers on your lips and gently shook his head.

"I have to go into the ring now." He said, because the referee Juri had to call his name again.

Kurama broke away from you and went to the battlefield, where Karasu was already waiting for him. You held your breath as the fight began. It was going to be the hardest fight of all time for him, you were sure of it.

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

The fight was clearly dominated by Karasu for a long time, who seemed to foresee every one of Kurama's steps. His rosewhip basically crumbled to dust before it could hit Karasu due to a miniature bomb that the black-haired man had already placed. Knowing that Kurama would resort to his signature attack.

Even the transformation into his Youko form only briefly gave Kurama the upper hand in this fight.

Karasu was strong, incredibly strong. Kurama was already bleeding profusely on his legs and arms from the bombs that hit his flesh. The transformation into his demon form had already reached its limits. Now everything seemed to be over for the redhead when he went down and his robe was already completely bathed in red blood.

It was a horrible sight, almost worse than Bakken's back then. Kurama stopped moving when Karasu tried to put an end to it.

With the very last of his strength, Kurama was able to mobilize his last reserves and thus also make his Reiki to zero when he conjured up a large, gray plant. Shortly afterwards he sagged dead and his friends, as well as you, cried out in agony.

"KURAMA!"

Karasu stopped. Not because he thought his opponent was dead, but because something had pierced his chest. Everyone stared in disbelief at the three vines of the plant that Kurama had conjured up with his last strength. They seemed to suck out Karasus blood.

"What is happening?" Kuwabara asked in disbelief.

"The plant sucks out its blood. Like a vampire." You explained and looked a little more composed again. Apparently you knew this technique. Since dated Kurama, the others weren't surprised.

Before the crowd could properly process what had happened, Karasu fell to the ground. His skin was pale from massive blood loss and his eyes were blank and torn. He was dead.

But what about Kurama?

Kurama opened his eyes. The bleeding wounds had closed again as if by a miracle and he straightened up slightly wobbly. Did the vampire plant fed him with the blood of his victim to save his life? It was the only logical explanation.

Tears now ran down your cheeks. No tears of sadness, tears of infinite joy. He was alive. Kurama had kept his promise and survived this fight.

Without hesitation for a second, after Juri made him the winner, you ran onto the battlefield and threw Kurama to the ground in a stormy embrace. The Redhead was unprepared for the impact and lost balance when you buried your face in the crook of his neck.

"Idiot. Idiot idiot idiot." You repeated several times, still sobbing slightly. This kitsune almost seemed to enjoy causing you so much grief by letting himself be beaten up in every fight.

Kurama smiled gently and caressed your back soothingly.

"Ssh. Everything is fine.", He whispered and heard only briefly loud sobs before you pulled away from him and stared at him.

"DO. THAT. NEVER. AGAIN." You warned and if Kurama wasn't grinning at you so sweetly, your anger would also come across convincingly. Instead, you just sighed softly and patted him gently on the shoulder. "But you also have to keep your promise," you added.

"Don't worry, I will." Kurama chuckled and turned to Yusuke with a hand sign. You blinked perplexed when Yusuke grinned and threw a small velvet box to him. Out of the corner of your eye you could see that it was a box with a beautifully decorated rose on the lid.

"Kurama .."

Kurama got on one knee and took your hand in his.

"I should do this formally and properly, don't you think?" He laughed and you suddenly realized something.

"... You already planned everything in advance, right ...?" You wanted to know.

Kurama gave a small laugh and kissed your palm lovingly before looking intensely into your eyes.

"Quite possible. No, but .. I've never met a woman like you in my life - and that applies to my human and demonic life - and I never expected to lose my heart to someone who makes me as happy as you. "

"Kurama .."

Kurama smirked when you didn't let him finish and cleared his throat to continue.

"Originally I wanted to stay in the human world because my mother and my friends were so close to my heart. But now there is another reason why I don't want to leave this world anymore. I want you by my side until the end of my days and ... start a family with you. In the human world. That is why I ask you, here and now, [First Name] [Last Name], do you want to be my wife and eternal mate? ", He asked and opened the box. Inside it was the most beautiful diamond ring you ever saw. Its sides were adorned with two beautiful jewels, a shiny [gem with your eye color] and a shimmering emerald. It was more than obvious that these jewels symbolized the eye colors of the both of you.

"Yes .. Yes, I want Kurama. Of course I want that!" You said overjoyed and let a smiling Kurama put the ring on your finger before he pulled you to him and kissed you passionately.

"U-Unbelievable! A marriage proposal during the final of the Dark Tournament! I've never seen anything like it!"Koto announced, she sat in the crowd as the second announcer and looked dreamily at the engaged couple.

You smiled and looked at the ring.

"So beautiful. But something's missing," you mumbled.

"Huh?", Kurama asked and you turned to him and grinned slightly.

"A topaz." You answered with a smile.

Now Kurama was the one whose eyes widened and he even blushed a little.

A topaz as golden as Youko Kurama's eyes. His demon form.

Now he was more certain than ever. He would never let you go again. He swore to himself.

#kurama x reader #kurama #youko kurama #youko kurama x reader #shuichi minamino #shuichi minamino x reader #yyh #Yu Yu Hakusho

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rudysrings · 5 years ago

Text

Twin Pogues of the OBX - 1

A/N + Summary: SO I’m currently obsessed with the Outer Banks right now, and I had no idea that there was so much hype about it until I hit tumblr after watching the show. It kind of got me back into writing for a bit so I thought I would go ahead and publish something that’s been sitting in my drafts. It’s essentially a fanfic that goes through the entire show from the perspective of the reader, who is John B’s twin sister. Let me know if it piques anyone’s interest, because I don’t want to keep pushing out something that people hate lol.

Warnings: Mentions of sex, cursing, slowburn

Word count: 3056

Masterlist

ON WITH IT!

You didn’t want to admit it, but you were tired of listening to the waves. It made you sick to your stomach. It didn’t help that the Chateau was so close to the water that it was all you could hear at night. The waves crashing on the shore. The waves colliding with each other. The waves fighting to topple boats that made the mistake of trying to take on a storm too big for them.

You listened for your father in every wave. You hoped you’d at least hear the ghost of your father.

Unlike John B, you had no hope that your father was alive. At first, you didn’t bother voicing that thought, but as time went on, and John B continued to have delusions, you started getting more and more vocal about your opinion. Your dad was dead. Period.

And it was time that John B accepted that, too.

The two of you may have been twins, but you were as different as two people could get. John B was, for the most part, quiet, reserved and mild. You, on the other hand, had a fuse shorter than the short end of the stick you had pulled. You were hot headed and often misjudged situations too quickly. John B was the calm before your storm. You preferred to call yourself passionate. You smoked, John B did not. You slept around with far too many tourons. John B did not. John B was a dense motherfucker. You could read the room the moment you walked in. The only thing that really bonded the two of you was your love for surfing, your love for the pogues and your love for your dad.

Now that one of those things had died, or simply “vanished,” as John B would say, all that was keeping your two member family together were the pogues and surfing.

The last few months had been hell, and all you wanted this summer, was to have a good time, all the time.

Speaking of which, you and the pogues had decided to break in the summer with a little rule-breaking. Kiara wanted to check out one of Gary’s new beach-house developments, which was being built right over a turtle habitat. You all shrugged at the suggestion and agreed.

You threw a can of beer up, JJ catching it instantly, wrinkling his nose when he looked at the label. “This is the shit stuff, Y/N,” he complained.

You rolled your eyes. “Next time I’ll boot-leg champagne for ya, sweetheart,” you drawled.

JJ winked. “That’s more like it.”

Rolling your eyes, you tossed two beers to Pope, which he promptly dropped and bent down to grab, dusting himself off, embarrassed.

You rolled your eyes, watching as he threw one to John B, who was far too drunk to hold onto it, dropping it on the deck of the house, causing it to burst.

Before you could comment on Kie’s overly concerned “Please don’t kill yourself,” to John B, you heard voices yelling “Hey! What are you kids doing up there?!”

“Shit,” You said, looking for your hat.

“I second that shit,” said Pope nervously.

John B swiftly made his way down, grabbing Kie’s hand and leading them out, Pope on their heels.

“Guys, have you seen my-”

Suddenly, you felt something slip over your head, and you smiled up at JJ, who patted the top of your head and pushed you down the stairs and out of the house, all five of you laughing as Gary and his men chased after you.

As John B jumped the fence, he held his hand out to help Kie over, doing the same for you once she made it. You rolled your eyes, slapping his hand away and smoothly making it over yourself.

Pope, as expected, fell over onto the ground as he jumped, JJ shoving him further jokingly. You glared at the boy, and he held his hands up as you helped Pope up, pulling him by the hand into a sprint.

JJ held his hand out of John B’s beat up old van, pulling your laughing body in. Pope closed the door as John B gunned it, but you opened it again, teasing Gary, who was struggling to catch up with you guys.

You tossed him a beer, which he tried to catch, but failed as he stopped running, his hands on his knees.

JJ laughed as he too leaned out of the van, “They don’t pay you enough, bro!” He yelled to Gary.

Your hair blew in the wind, strands of it tickling JJ’s cheeks.

He spat overdramatically, coughing, “Hey, uh, Y/N? You mind not choking me with your hair?”

You simply gave him a playful punch in the gut, taking a seat in between Kie’s knees, who was sitting on the bench behind John B.

Kie took your long, wild hair in her hands, taming it into a french braid. JJ watched with a goofy smile on his face, his conversation with Pope getting too boring.

John B drove down to the docks, where you guys took out the HMS Pogue for the rest of the day. You tried to slap the book out of Kie’s hands, holding a freshly rolled blunt out for her to share with you, but she glared at you, turning back to her reading. You noticed Pope doing the same thing.

JJ grabbed the blunt from your hands, lighting it.

You leaned an elbow on his shoulder, tutting. “Didn’t realize we ran with a bunch of nerds…”

Before Kie and Pope could retort, John B turned around, releasing a pile of freshly caught fish onto the deck of the boat and you cheered. “Nice, John B. We eatin’ good, today.”

“Yeah we are. You’re cooking.”

“I’m what?”

John B smiled smugly, “I did the catching, you do the cooking.”

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest, “Fine then I’ll also do more of the eating.”

“I never agreed to that,” John B argued.

You turned to him, “And that’s because you’re a greedy, cocksucking parasite and-”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. We’re here to have fun, you guys,” said Kie, her hands out to the two of you.

“Man, I’d really like to go one day without you guys at each other’s goddamn throats,” Pope groaned.

“Forget the fish, there’s a party tonight. First summer party. We gotta be there,” said JJ.

“Hell yeah, I’ll take a touron dick appointment over fish and chips any day,” you put your hands on your hips, looking at the rest of the pogues.

John B rolled his eyes at your blunt words, while Pope and Kie shrugged, agreeing.

Everyone looked to John B and he sighed before saying, “Yeah, I’m down.”

You all cheered, running over and piling on top of him, laughing.

The party was one of the best you had been to yet. While Kiara got on her soapbox about plastic and the boys were looking for girls to flirt with, you were on the hunt for someone who could make your night count.

As you waited in line at the keg to fill up your cup, the guy behind you spoke up. “You look too good to be hanging around the cut.” He flirted.

Your blood boiled as you turned around to get in this guy’s face. You stopped short once you saw what a nice face it was. You weren’t shallow, just… horny. “Am I now?” You smiled slightly.

He nodded, “Oh yes, too good for North Carolina even. The likes of you belong in Hollywood, babe.”

He had neatly trimmed blonde hair and striking blue eyes. Guess you had a type, after all, you thought fleetingly.

“Wow, can I get a name, kind stranger?” You flashed your teeth.

“It’s Asher ma’am, and you are?”

You shrugged, handing your cup to the guy near the keg, who handed it back within a second, full. You put your hand on Asher’s cheek, tapping it as one would a small child, “Oh, sweetheart, you gotta earn that.”

Asher’s eyebrows rose, walking with you down the beach. “How might I go about that?” He asked, suggestively.

You smirked. “It’s not how, honey, it’s where.”

And that was all you needed to let this guy rock your world that night.

You woke up alone the next morning in the hammock outside the Chateau, having crashed there after the party. Groaning, you rolled over until you fell on the ground, struggling to pick yourself up. John B appeared out of nowhere, helping you up.

He handed you some water, which you downed immediately, his hand on your back.

“You alright, kid?” He asked. You nodded, “Yeah, I just need a shower like yesterday,” You moaned.

John B nodded, slapping your shoulder. “Next time don’t drink so much, eh?”

You rolled your eyes, flipping him off as you walked inside. You were heading to the bathroom when you passed John B’s bedroom. You noticed JJ, half-naked and leaning over some blonde on your brother’s bed, his forehead practically touching hers. He noticed you instantly. Some emotion flashed across his face before he glared. “Dude, come on. Get outta here,” he said and you smirked.

“Get some, JJ,” you encouraged, barely dodging the pillow he hurled at you as you shut the door.

As you walked into the bathroom, you couldn’t understand why your stomach lurched when you thought about what JJ was probably doing with that blonde in John B’s bed. You shrugged, it was probably just the alcohol.

That afternoon, you and John B had an appointment with social services, who basically confirmed that you two would be put in foster care after they confirmed that your uncle wasn’t home to look after you two tomorrow.

As John B expected, you didn’t take it well. To your credit, you kept it together in the social worker’s office, but you practically had a meltdown the moment you stepped foot outside.

“How can they just fucking take us away! What did we even do wrong? It’s not our fucking fault Uncle T decided to split! Can’t they see that we’re better off on our goddamn own, John B?!”

John B shrugged. “Not much we can do, Y/N. It’s the law.”

At that, your breaths came even faster, “But it’s not fair, John B! What if-What if they split us up?” You were almost hyperventilating now, pulling your own hair.

John B furrowed his eyebrows, pulling you into a hug. “They’re not going to do that. I’m not going to let that happen, Y/N, you hear me?”

You pushed him away from you, “We’ll see, John B.”

The two of you caught a break. Hurricane Agatha came in the same day DCS was supposed to do your assessment. Your mind immediately went to the sick waves that would be forming. You tugged on John B’s shirt, pulling him away from the TV, “Call DCS and call them to reschedule. And then grab your surfboard.” Your grin stretched across your whole face, your eyes probably wild.

John B looked confused, then concerned. “You can’t be serious. There’s a hurricane?”

“Dead serious.” You crossed your arms. “Like you can resist these waves.”

John B shrugged. “Yeah, I’m in.”

The two of you ran out to the ocean, the dark clouds and harsh winds not fazing you, Pope having bailed on you guys, claiming that these weren’t surfable waves.

As you surfed the waves, constantly getting wiped out due to their sheer size and speed, you couldn’t help the thought: Did a wave like this kill Dad?

John B tried to surf a few waves, but he lacked not only your skill, but also your tenacity. He gave up and simply watched you from his seat on his board.

When you noticed a clearly fancy boat being tossed around in the waves, you pointed it out to John B, who squinted, trying to make it out. He agreed that it was strange. Who would go out in a storm like this?

The next morning, after surveying the damage that Agatha had caused, John B suggested that you guys go fishing, given the likeliness that there would be a whole lot of fish to catch in the marsh today.

Happy to put off cleaning up for a day and high on the fact that DCS wouldn’t be able to catch a ferry down here for at least a couple of days, you agreed.

After practically kidnapping Pope from his dad and picking up Kiara, the five of you drove down to the marsh, Pope steering.

Giggling, you pulled JJ by the hand up to the bow of the HMS Pogue and handed him one of the beers that Kiara had brought. He smirked and held it up along with you as he shouted for Pope to go faster. Pope groaned. “We’ve tried this like six thousand times.”

You shook your head. “I’ve got this. It’s gonna work.”

And it did. Kind of. You and JJ were downing your beers, Kiara complaining that it was getting in your hair. You looked over at JJ from your peripheral and smiled slightly at his silly face, mouth open like a fish as he attempted to get all of the beer that was being hurled out of the bottle.

Until the boat lurched to a sudden stop, catapulting you and JJ into the air. You felt your entire body flip as you fell into the water with a loud crash, water surrounding your ears. You broke the surface immediately, blinking against the sunlight. “Fuuuck,” you groaned.

You felt JJ reach you, wrapping an arm around your waist. “You good?” You nodded at him, resting your hands on his shoulders as you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

John B called out, “You good, Y/N? JJ?”

“I think my heels touched the back of my head,” JJ groaned.

You swam back to the boat, JJ right behind you. “Pope, what did you do?” You asked.

Pope looked as confused as the rest of you guys. “Sandbar. Channel changed.”

As you made it onto the boat, JJ pulled himself up, too, saying, “No shit.”

As your clothes were soaked, you slid your shorts and t-shirt off, leaving you in your teal halter bikini.

You didn’t miss how JJ’s eyes dragged up your figure, his ears turning pink when he reached your eyes and realized you noticed.

Biting your lip to keep from laughing, you turned to Pope, who had his eyes on something in the water.

“Guys...I think there’s a boat down there,” He said.

John B scoffed, “Shut up.”

Kie smiled, “No way.”

But Pope didn’t let up, “No, no, guys. I’m serious. There’s a boat down there.”

You all leaned over the side of the boat and sure enough, there was a large shadow, vague, but obviously in the shape of the hull of a boat.

“Holy shit. He’s right; let’s go!” You said, jumping into the water.

As you swam towards the shadow, you heard Pope muse, “You think there’s a dead body down there?”

You couldn’t stop your subconscious from immediately thinking Dad.

You almost threw up at the thought of stumbling across your own father’s drowned corpse.

But you knew that if that was the case, you would handle it far better than John B. You swam faster, trying to get down there before him.

The five of you made your way to the boat, your eyebrows raising against the water as you saw what kind of boat it was. This was a rich guy’s boat for sure. You recognized it as the boat from yesterday. You all took a peek inside, but couldn’t make out a body. You sighed aloud, bubbles releasing in the water.

As you guys resurfaced, you all laughed.

“That’s a Grady-White,” JJ laughed in shock, “A new one of those is like 500 Gs, easy.”

You guys climbed back into the boat. John B gave you a look. “That’s the boat we saw when we surfed the surge. Maybe it hit the jetty or something.”

Kie looked confused. “You surfed the surge.”

You smirked. “Well… I surfed the surge. John B mostly just watched.” Your brother rolled his eyes but he didn’t correct you.

JJ was getting on the boat when he heard you say that and his entire face lit up. “Yeah, that’s my girl, pogue style,” he said, giving you a high-five.

You grinned back, your stomach involuntarily tumbling at the words my girl.

“Fuck,” you whispered to yourself. Kie noticed, shooting you a look.

You blushed, looking away.

Pope asked, “Wait, wait, do we know who’s boat that is?”

John B opened the hatch on the deck of the boat, looking for the anchor inside. “No. but we’re about to find out.”

JJ shook his head, “Dude, it’s too deep.”

“Only for the weak and feeble, JJ,” John B said.

“Well, I’m not resuscitating you. I’m just making that clear up front.”

You worried that there could still be a body down there. Your father’s body. John B couldn’t see that. Plus, something about the thought of diving felt like a challenge. You took the anchor from John B’s hands. “I’ll go,” You said.

“What the fuck, no Y/N,” said John B.

JJ grabbed your upper arm, “Yeah, not a good idea,” he said.

You shook him off lightly. “I’m doing it,” you insisted.

JJ shrugged. “Well, I wouldn’t mind resuscitating you,” he joked.

You rolled your eyes, “You wouldn’t even know how.”

JJ smirked, “Yeah, but I have experience with-”

Pope interjected as you walked to the edge. “Diver down, fool,” he shook his head in slight disappointment. But then again, when was Pope not disappointed in you?”

JJ came over to you. Looking you hard in the eyes, he gave you a questioning look. You steeled your eyes. “I’m ready.”

He smirked, “You better be.” He gave you a shove on your shoulders, pushing you backwards off the bow of the boat and you could hardly hear him say “Diver down,” and John B say, “The fu-” before the water hit you, swallowing you whole as you quickly sunk with the weight of the anchor.

Masterlist

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askaceattorney · 4 years ago

Photo

Dear Asexual-Deesasters,

Mod Edgeworth:

If you want to know the answer to that question, go to this link.

Dear Skibot99,

Co-Mod: I’m fairly certain it was The Mod, but I don’t know for sure. He actually had another one before it, made from an old Ace Attorney musical animation. I haven’t been able to locate that video, unfortunately, but here’s the old banner:

Ah... Those were good days. Good days.

Dear Dawsongfg,

Co-Mod: It’s fine. Besides, it won’t be too long before those letters are accepted, so maybe we’ll hold onto them until that time.

Dear skibot99 again,

Mod Edgeworth: The Lost Turnabout hands down. All logic is thrown out the window the moment Phoenix had amnesia. It’s clear the Judge knew something was wrong with Phoenix, so why didn’t he call for a recess or check on Phoenix? Not to mention Wellington was annoying. He’s probably the only character I would be hesitant to play as when answering letters, if only because he was so unbearable.

As for Turnabout Ablaze, I do agree that it is a drag to get through in the end, though the entire game of AAI was boring, aside from the game mechanics. As a case by itself, I wouldn’t put it as my least favorite, if only because I did get some funny parts out of it. It also contributed to the overall story, whereas The Lost Turnabout could just be taken out and it wouldn’t effect the overarching plot.

Co-Mod: I’d probably have to go with Turnabout Big Top. I honestly couldn’t figure out the part where you have to present Max’s poster without consulting a walkthrough. Why couldn’t we just present Max himself? Besides that, the ending was largely underwhelming -- the murder weapon was hidden under Acro’s blanket the entire time, but instead of seeing a screenshot of it there, we just have to imagine it. Maybe it was a filler case, but that was no excuse for it to end so poorly. Not to mention one of the witnesses was a literal puppet.

It’s hard truth, Trilo. Live with it.

Dear skibot99 and Anonymous,

Mod Edgeworth: I… think I heard from her when the localization of DGS was announced? I know Mod Kristoph and Mod Maya introduced themselves when I came into the group. There’s a third person, but I only heard from her once. As for what’s going on with her… I don’t know.

As for the flooding the inbox, it’s fine. I won’t promise a letter or two won’t be deleted, but we may make an exception and I’d hardly consider 4-5 different letters flooding the inbox. However, I do highly suggest lowering your letter sending to no more than three a day to prevent deletion of your letters. The only time I’d say your letters are flooding the inbox is when you’re sending 10-20 of them, especially of the same letter, and we have to scroll down for a while to get to the next letter. We will only choose three out of that pile and delete the rest.

And yes, we do have a few that send us 10-20 of the same letter to multiple characters in the span of five minutes. Geez.

Co-Mod: Mod Paups has had to remain absent for personal reasons, and sadly, has recently communicated to me that she wishes to leave the blog entirely. Thanks for all you’ve contributed to this blog, Mod Paups, and best of luck in whatever you do next!

(Referenced Letter)

Dear mungeondaster,

Mod Edgeworth: Since I answered this one, I shall answer your letter.

(^ Why do I always use this sprite? ^) Actually, the localization never specified if Manfred Von Karma was born in Germany or not. In fact, we never knew the German part until Justice For All when Franziska Von Karma was stated to have flown all the way from Germany. It never specifies any reason for this and fans were quick to jump to the conclusion that it means the Von Karma family were German, which… isn’t entirely true? Manfred Von Karma never said he lived in Germany and, for all we know, Franziska could’ve lived in Germany to study law or something.

Now, the OG does give us more specific detail on this, being why I answered this the way I did. In the OG, both Von Karma’s were born Japanese, but lived in America or at least have an estate there. It specified that they were originally born in Japan, which would be translated to LA, California in the localization. While using the OG canon isn’t normal here, I will use it, if the localization doesn’t specify things. In this case, it never specified if the Von Karma’s were born in Germany or if Manfred Von Karma lived in America. Since he had to wait out the Statue of Limitations for DL-6, we can assume he lived in LA for 15 years or more. That means he’s American.

I am still getting the hang of writing letters, but I try to stick to canon as much as possible. If you believe we’ve made an error in our letters, feel free to let us know, but also show proof, if we go against canon. We’ll be sure the letter is sent to the right mod or else fix it.

Dear Bluedragoncody,

Mod Edgeworth: I... don’t know how to feel about that.

Also, I accidentally deleted your previous letter before this one when trying to post it on here. I’m so sorry about that. If you could remember it, would you send it again?

Co-Mod: I’ll just respond to this with an old classic:

Dear Aceattorneyismyjam,

Mod Edgeworth: I-I’m not a pro! I accidentally deleted an important mod question from bluedragoncody, because of my inexperience. Oof! Again, so sorry!

Granted, I am good with digital art and writing essays, but I’m still trying to get the hang of being a mod here. Believe me, I do get corrected on several mistakes I do here. I can’t really call myself a pro just yet. I’ve only just started becoming a mod here last month lol

Dear Dahlia,

Mod Edgeworth: I thank you for your support of this blog and my essay. Manfred Von Karma is also my favorite villain and someone I do feel is underestimated as a one dimensional villain. I think people hate him so much, because of how he ruined Miles Edgeworth’s life without looking at the bigger picture. They focus on the bad things with their black colored glasses without dissecting Manfred Von Karma’s character as a whole.

One thing I love about this blog, even before becoming a mod, is that no one here ever portrayed Manfred Von Karma as the one dimensional villain. He can be snappy at times, but as proven in many of our previous letters, he’s also portrayed as being calm when threatened, polite at times and absolutely loves his wife and children. Yes, he’s a terrible person, but that’s what makes him so interesting. He’s a bad, evil person that does good things from time to time. It doesn’t justify any of his horrible deeds, murder included, but it does make him human.

Co-Mod: I’m...going to assume you’re a different Dahlia. (I’m grabbing a Magatama of Parting just in case, though. I’m sure you can understand.)

Anyway, thanks for being such a loyal follower! This blog’s been through a lot of changes since it began, and since I joined it back in 2017, so I’m glad it’s still a good source of enjoyment for you. I’ve seen all sorts of cringe by now, by the way (some of which I wrote myself), so don’t worry about it.

I’m also glad that the characters still sound like themselves and not like us. The hilarious personalities and quirks given to them by Capcom’s writers, as well as the humanity in so many of them, make them easy to relate to, and thus fairly easy to mimic. I may have said something like this before, but I see myself in a lot of them -- in Athena’s fear of inadequacy, in Apollo’s desire for justice in a world where it’s hard to find, in Sebastian’s confusion about where to go next after his world falls apart, and possibly even in the von Karmas’ desire for perfection. I of course identify with their positive feelings as well -- Phoenix’s smugness when he gets things right, Athena’s joy after pulling off a victory in court, Adrian’s pride after her self-confidence is restored, etc. -- but there’s something about the struggles they face that make them easier to relate to, on top of being that much more awesome in the end.

Unfortunately, I can’t promise anything about this blog continuing on in perpetuity. For one thing, I don’t plan on being around forever (I’m fairly certain the other Mods don’t, either), and for that matter, there’s also no telling how long Tumblr will be around. All I can promise is that I’ll give my best while I’m here, and that the love from you and everyone else who shares it here is sure to be what keeps us going. Thank you for your contribution!

Dear TurqouiseJavelin,

Mod Edgeworth: Hm... not bad ideas. Though, we mods choose our own mod names under the condition that it doesn’t match anyone else’s mod name.

Co-Mod: What Mod Edgeworth said. Choosing the name “Mod Athena” may or may not increase your chances of being hired, though. *wink, wink*

Dear Anonymous,

Mod Edgeworth: Actually, Gregory was stated in the Autopsy to have died by a gunshot. However, you do bring up something interesting. If Gregory Edgeworth realized he was dead and last remembered Robert Hammond strangling him, he wouldn’t think “I died by the shot of a gun.” Since the Detectives weren’t aware that victim had died unconscious, they’d assume the victim would recall being shot and killed. This makes me wonder if Gregory Edgeworth was channeled, but never brought to court to be cross-examined.

There are still holes, but I do like your aspect on DL-6.

Co-Mod: Dang... No matter how many times you come back to this game, there’s always something new to think about. I honestly hadn’t considered those details about Yanni Yogi’s trial. Your explanation makes the most sense to me, but there’s one other possibility regarding Gregory’s testimony -- he may have chosen to lie about who murdered him in order to protect his son from a murder charge. That’s all open to interpretation, of course, so your guess is as good as ours.

It’s a good thing we’re not actual defense attorneys, huh?

-The Mods

#asexual deesasters #skibot99 #dawsongfg #mungeondaster #bluedragoncody #aceattorneyismyjam #young and vain #Anonymous #Mod Post #Mod Edgeworth #Co Mod

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marjansmarwani · 4 years ago

Text

Trouble Will Come

11.6k || ao3

Ever since TK had been caught up in Austin's latest serial bomber's attack, Carlos has thrown himself into looking for the mysterious bomber. He had watched his boyfriend almost die at the hands of this maniac, and he needed to do everything he could to make sure that never happened again. It makes him feel better, helps to counteract the helplessness he felt in that moment.

What he didn't expect was to actually find him, and to be trapped with him and a bomb in another abandoned factory. Now he just wants to make it out alive, because he is pretty sure TK will find a way to kill him if he doesn't.

--- Sequel to Trouble Will Not Take Me

I ended up rereading this today and decided to repost it because I don’t think I ever got around to making a masterpost of the chapters when I first finished it and just because I really like it and we could always use some more Carlos fic. So enjoy this shameless bit of self-promotion and a reminder of an older fic in lieu of anything new since I am still fighting my way through some writer’s block.

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

“Wow,” Mya deadpanned as they pulled up to a dilapidated abandoned factory building, “you take me to the nicest places.”

“Next time we have a serial bomber I’ll be sure to mention to him that he should aim for sites that are more aesthetically pleasing,” Carlos replies drily, already unbuckling his seatbelt.

“I’m just saying, would it kill us to not have chosen the place on the list most likely to give us tetanus by just looking at it?”

Carlos merely shrugged in response because honestly, he couldn’t disagree with her. It had been just over two weeks since Austin’s most recent serial bomber made his big splash by blowing up a building with firefighters inside. It had been only been two years since the last bomber and everyone was on edge. The memory was fresh enough that the majority of the police department had been there, had watched the last bombings unfold. To see it happen again didn’t sit well with anyone, especially Carlos. He had vivid memories of the last time, of the fear and uncertainty that had reigned over the city. This time he had his own fears to add to the pile; his own nightmares to haunt his days. It had been the 126 who responded to that call, it had been TK and Marjan trapped inside the last building when it exploded. That had been 15 days ago, and every day since APD had poured a significant amount of its resources into identifying likely targets and patrolling them regularly. Carlos had been volunteering for every shift - this case was personal.

He still saw TK’s limp and battered body being pulled out of the collapsed building every night when he closed his eyes. The first few nights, when TK had still been in the hospital, he had resisted going home because he knew he wouldn’t sleep anyways. Even now, weeks later, he still had those dreams; still woke up in a cold sweat. Only the presence of TK besides him, soundly sleeping and breathing and alive was enough to calm him. So yeah, maybe he was taking this one a little personally.

Fortunately, Mya was completely on board. She had been right by his side the entire way: in the waiting room of the hospital, in their sergeant’s office volunteering for extra shifts. He hadn’t even had to ask her. The first day he showed up to work, once TK had finally been out of the woods, she had materialized in front of his desk. “They’re going after this guy,” she had said, “I want in and I am sure you do too.” He had barely had time to nod before she was leading them to the sergeant’s office.

It was times like this he was so grateful for his partner. She was a force to be reckoned with on a regular day, and she cared just as much about TK as she did for Carlos. To say she was feeling spiteful would be an understatement: “If some asshole bomber thinks they’re going to almost crush my friend to death and get away with it, they’ve got another thing coming,” she had said fiercely.

Carlos almost felt bad for this mysterious bomber - almost.

That didn’t change the fact that this was the 12th abandoned building they had checked out this week and while it certainly wasn’t the gnarliest building they had been in, it wasn’t winning any home and garden awards.

“Just think,” he said as they drew closer, “if we ever decide to give up this whole cop thing, we’ll have a jump start on real estate to enter the haunted house business.”

“I know you’re joking, but that’s honestly not the worst idea I’ve heard.”

Carlos shook his head fondly, “You ready to do this, again?”

Mya nodded, “Twelfth time’s the charm, right?”

“We can only hope,” he muttered as the entered the structure. “Structure” may even be a generous term for it; there didn’t seem to be much standing. They looked around the entry: it appeared to have been a lobby of some sort at one time and it opened up into two diverting hallways. “Looks like we’re splitting up. Do you want left or right?”

“I’m feeling left today. Be careful though, will you? Wouldn’t want you getting into trouble without your partner to watch your back.”

“You too. Radio if you find anything?”

“Always.” With a quick salute, Mya was off, disappearing down the hallway to the left. Carlos quickly followed suit and entered the other hallway. It was dark and quiet. He pulled out his flashlight and looked around. It looked like your typical, nondescript, dilapidated hallway - just like the other eleven they had searched that week.

Still, it warranted a cursory investigation. If only to cross it off the list, to eliminate another possible location. The reigning theory at the precinct currently is that the bomber had been scared off by what had happened with the last bomb. The only casualties of the first four bombs had been the buildings themselves. Never before had there been victims of the bombs, and only luck and talented medical professionals had prevented there from being any fatalities. Normally Carlos would have been grateful and left it at that. But TK had almost died - Carlos had thought he was dead for several heart-stopping moments. He wasn’t over it, and he was bringing that baggage with him. Logically he knew that he should have recused himself from the case, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He needed to be a part of this, he needed to know he had done everything he could to bring this maniac to justice.

It was coping, he supposed.

He continued down the hallway, shining his flashlight into the dark corners. He moved carefully, keeping his eyes moving and his ears open. He froze as he heard a sound up ahead. It was probably just an animal, or a piece of the crumbling ceiling falling, but Carlos was still on high alert as he turned the next corner. He frowned when he saw a weak light cutting through the surrounding darkness. He moved towards it. It was a lantern, shining dimly on a makeshift table. The rest of the table was covered with paper and blueprints. Carlos could feel his heart rate increase - this was it. This was the work of the bomber they had been tracking. He went to reach for his radio, to tell Mya that he had found something, to tell her they had the guy and to get here now; but it was then that he realized he had made his first mistake.

“What are you doing here?” a harsh voice behind him demanded.

Carlos froze - hand hovering just above his radio. He slowly turned around to find a middle-aged man with a scraggly beard, wild eyes, a duffel bag slung over his shoulder, and a gun pointed at him. He slowly raised his hands up in surrender, even as he cursed at himself.

He had forgotten to clear the room. He had made a rookie mistake and had let this guy get the drop on him. Now there was a gun pointed at him and he was in deep shit.

He spoke slowly and evenly, even as his heart thudded in his chest, “My name is Carlos Reyes, I am an officer with the Austin Police department. I was investigating a report of suspicious activity at this location.”

The man continued to glare at him, “Are you here alone?”

Carlos shook his head, “No, my partner is here too. She’s on the other side of the building.”

The man didn’t say anything to that, he simply looked around Carlos, towards the table. Carlos cursed himself silently. He had moved the papers and blueprints around; it was clear that he had seen them. The man clearly came to the same conclusion as his expression had grown darker as he looked back at Carlos. There was silence for a few long moments before he spoke, “This needs to be done, you can’t stop me.”

Carlos swallowed, but took care to keep his expression even, “Why does it need to be done?”

The man scowled at him, “No questions. Just, keep quiet until I figure out what to do with you.”

Carlos nodded, and the room lapsed into silence. His mind was racing, trying to find a way out of this that didn’t involve a bullet in his head. He didn’t know if this man would actually use that gun he had pointed at Carlos, but it was safer to assume that he would - which took all plans of action off the table. Trying to talk him down would be his best bet, but he was still too on edge from the unexpected appearance of Carlos to start pressing his luck by breaking his mandated silence so soon.

They stood at an impasse, silently staring each other down until the sound of Carlos’s radio sliced through the heavy silence.

His radio beeped and Mya’s voice broke the tense silence, “I just finished my sweep, a whole lot of nothing - again. I’m heading back to the entrance - you done yet?”

Carlos didn’t move. He maintained his eye contact with the strange man, and spoke slowly, “That’s my partner; she’s wondering where I am. If she doesn’t hear from me she’s going to start looking and then you’ll have two of us messing up your plans. Can I respond to her?”

“Tell her to leave.”

“Okay, I’m reaching for my radio to do that,” Carlos slowly lowered his right hand to reach for his radio, heart hammering in his chest. He switched it on and responded, taking care to make sure that his voice was even, “Negative Officer Esquilin, proceed to the next location without me.”

He released the button and took a deep breath. He desperately hoped that she would be able to read between the lines. Somewhere between the formality and the fact that there was no next location, he had faith she’d figure it out. She was smarter than he was, after all.

When her response came, it was much more clipped than usual, “Please confirm last transmission Officer Reyes, you will be staying on scene?”

“Affirmative, Officer Esquilin.”

“Has there been any progress on our current objective?”

Carlos looked back up at the man in front of him, “Affirmative.”

There was a pause, a several second delay before Mya spoke again. When she did, she had dropped the pretense, “Carlos Reyes, you do not get to do something stupid without me.”

“Just get out of here, please.”

“I am not going anywhere! If you think for one second I am going to leave you behind you have clearly not been paying attention!”

The man in front of him put out his hand, “that’s enough, hand it over.”

Carlos clenched his radio one more time, “I’m sorry, Mya.”

Then he unstrapped his radio and tossed it to the other man. Even as it sailed across the room, he could still hear Mya’s voice coming through it, calling him all sorts of things. Her words were jumbled, but heavy with fear.

“Reyes if you die on me I swear to god I’m going to—“

Whatever threat she was making was cut off by a foot smashing his radio.

“I can’t have all that noise,” the other man said irritability, “I have to focus.”

He slid the duffel bag off his shoulder onto the ground between them. He slid down the zipper and pulled it open, revealing a mess of wires and mechanics that Carlos could only assume was a bomb.

Maybe it wasn’t but given how today was going, he wasn’t too hopeful.

Well, he thought wryly as he stood in a crumbling room of an abandoned building with a gun leveled at his chest; at least he had found the bomber.

[read the rest on ao3!]

#911 lone star #911 lone star fic #carlos reyes #when I asked jamie if I should repost that she said why not? and she's right so here #not going to tag the usual suspects thought because that does feel like a lot

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thebakunawa · 4 years ago

Text

Paint me in trust

Cross posted from my archive I’m just here to vibe and be gay

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“I don’t settle. I’m not made that way.” You smile, flagging another drink for yourself and raising it to her as she smirks. “Then what will it take to change your mind?” “A lot more drinks, for starters.” She smiles back, her teeth seemingly glinting under the light of the bar and you nod, clinking your glasses together. “I can do that.” “What do you want, demonio?” Revenant chuckles, his voice the familiar cold and steel that haunted her nightmares. He leans against the doorframe of the room they were in. His cold eyes looking over the room where the USB is located. She notes this, because her hand goes to her little pack, securing it. “Relax.” His voice echoes in the room. “I’m not after that,” “Then what are you after, demon?” She sneers. “Why are you here?” “A little courtesy call.” He says standing up properly and grinning. “How are you and your, pet?” She immediately tenses, her expression cold. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” “Don’t play coy with me, girl.” He tuts, stepping over a dead body. Loba doesn’t move back, instead standing her ground as Revenant moves a little closer. “We know about her, your little, pet.” “Whatever business or interest you have with her, you can conduct.” The bitterness is in her voice. “I have no care about it. What she does with her life is on her.” Revenant laughs, and Loba finds herself cringing, the hair on her arms rising in a mix of fear and barely contained anger. “If this concludes our business, then I suggest you leave. We’re done here.” She turns on her heel, walking out, pulling out her Jumpdrive, and readying herself to go when Revenant speaks up again. “Did you know she did it for you?” The words make her pause, and she berates herself for turning around. For looking at the obvious trap the demon had set but it was interesting news. “What do you mean?” “We’ve all heard of what broke your relationship,” he sounds happy with himself, his voice reeking with delight it makes Loba’s guts sick and twist. “And I know what happened.” “You sound like click-bait.” She deadpans. “It’s done. It’s history. She made a mistake and I moved on from her.” She tries not to betray the emotions that swirl in her chest, the sharp ache that never leaves every time she is reminded of you and your treachery. “Tsk, little girl, you never learn.” Revenant laughs and before Loba can tell him to fuck off or any other variation of it, he tosses her another USB. She catches it easily, the device cold to the touch and Revenant has stepped back, making his way through the door he entered. “I suggest you watch it.” He says, pausing to looking behind him and offer her one last smile. “I’ll tell you when I find her—you might want to be present at least for her funeral.” He disappears soon after, just before she can reply. She grits her teeth, and sighs, looking at the USB in her hand and it’s decorated to look like a wolf head. She considers breaking it for a moment but Revenant has never gone this out of the way to offer her anything. Against her better judgment, she pockets the USB, readying herself before jumping out and throwing her Jumpdrive. Letting the air rush past her calm her as she runs back to her home.

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

You’ve known for months they’d come for you. You did your best to hide. You’ve laid low, survived off of the odd jobs here and there. You’ve also killed your fair share of people, garnering a vanishing vigilante/mercenary that never lingered too long. But you were new to this game, you weren’t a seasoned outlaw, nor were you blessed with the resources some of the hunters hunted you with. More than once you’ve only barely managed to save yourself from walking into a trap set by hunters for the device. You’ve killed even more when you entered them without meaning to. Somedays you wonder if any of this was worth it. After all, you’re dead to her. If you ever showed face to Loba she’d probably greet you with a bullet and a kick to the groin. Then again, given what you’ve gone through, the idea sounds a lot more tempting and needed. But you know you owe it to her, she trusted you. Even if you did betray it, you intend to see the promise through. You remember the hurt in her eyes, the way she had pushed you back and you knew, you’d never reach through to her. The smiles you’ve gotten, the secret vulnerability she had shared, all a memory now, and you’re left with the cold, heart-wrenching memory of her pulling her gun out at you. “Go.” She says, the laser dot in between your eyes. “Consider this my mercy.” But you both know you didn’t deserve her mercy. You ran from her like a coward, you knew she wouldn’t believe you. Not after you had gone behind her back to give crucial information. Not that you were held at gunpoint or tortured for it. Your mind lingers to the burn marks at the base of your neck or the hot iron on your thigh. You sold her out, the worst crime to do. At least that’s what everyone thought. You gave them enough information to make it factual, but you gave it in disorder. You gave half guesses and half-truths, and you knew the moment they found out you had actually lied they’d sent people after you. It was only time they’d send Revenant after you. You know he’s there before you even open the door. The cold that seeps from the other side makes the hair on your arms rise. You’re exhausted, having barely escaped from a skirmish earlier and a part of you wants to ignore it and simply let yourself get taken but you know it would be a fate worse than death. So you pause, looking out at the window, wondering if you’ll die if you’ll be injured if you fall—and test it out only seconds later when you hear the familiar hiss of his Silence and you immediately launch yourself out the window. Your eyes close and as you break the glass, falling for a few seconds before you open them and roll safely onto the ground. There’s screaming in the apartment, a gunshot was fired from where you were standing moments ago and you run. Your feet hitting the pavement, your blood thundering in your ears. Everyone starts running inside, not keen on getting caught in a firefight. You can hear Revenant’s distant cursing, and you make a beeline to hide under the bridge. Traversing through the confusing huts and houses all strung together. You don’t hear him coming after you but it doesn’t mean you're out of the woods yet. You’ve slowed your running into a walk, you're exhausted, your bones feel like they’d grind themselves and your breathing is harder, much more labored. Your joints ache, and you have enough energy to check your bullets, revealing you’ve only got 32 left in your Flatline and your Mastiff only has 6. In short, you’re truly and utterly fucked. The people under the bridge don’t dare talk. Fear of Revenant has kept them cowed and you have to get out of there quickly. It wouldn’t be the first time you had been squealed on by a passerby. Not that you blame them, the Syndicate had sweetened the deal for your capture and your appearance was a signal for a mess. But you’re tired, dead tired. The ground seems to be calling to you and it wouldn’t be safe for you to pass out here in the open. So you push yourself up, not realizing you had fallen to the ground, you force yourself to crawl until you could walk, trying to find a place where you could pass out in. It took a lot of time, time that Revenant spent hunting you down. You’ve barely made it to the edge, walking using your Mastiff as a cane when a gunshot is fired and it bounces right in front of you. “Well, well, well,” Revenant says, a coffin on the ground next to him. “Caught you, girl. Time to go.” You manage a snort, “I can’t believe you’ve actually brought a coffin.” You smile, much too tired and delirious to take the situation seriously. “Nice to know you keep your promises.” “If it suits me.” He replies amused. “Now get in.” “You know I can’t,” you muster your bravado. “Got the good ground calling me into bed.” “Get in so I can shove you in the dirt then.” Their amusement is waning and you can hear the edge in their voice. “I’m taking you in this, whether you like it or not.” “Pass.” You say and you pull your Mastiff back, brushing a smoke grenade you hadn’t accounted for, and throw it—using the last vestiges of adrenaline you have to run. Revenant doesn’t seem too concerned and it worries you—only realizing why when you feel a bullet tear through you. For a few moments, there’s no pain. Just a fleeting feeling of something passing through you, it was like going through Wraith’s portal, except the bullet was the one passing through and you fall onto the ground, biting down onto your lip, barely suppressing the screams. You hear his footsteps, and see his feet before you’re suddenly on your back, the air knocked from your lungs and you’re gasping for breath—the action making your lungs burn. “I have to admit, softie, you did well.” He says, stepping on your chest, and you struggle to breathe, weakly trying to push it away but you know it’s futile. “So tell me, where is it?” Your vision is dancing now, the red is occasionally taken by black. “I—won’t...talk....” you wheeze out. “Rath...er...die” You hear his laughter and you don’t know if you scream, you feel him crack a rib. “You will die. Just not quickly.” Revenant promises, and you feel another rib crack and you’re sure you’re screaming because your voice is hoarse. “I’ll ask again. Where are the codes? Where did you place the map?” “F...fuck—off—!“ You say and you feel another crack and snap and his growl. “I have no patience for this, girl.” He sneers. “Every time you deny me—I can have you killed and brought back to life. Again and again, and again.” His voice has a sharp glee in it. “So answer me. Where. Are. The. Codes?” You can barely focus now, the exhaustion and the wounds have taken a toll on you. You manage to meet those glowing eyes, the cold expression, and weakly make an attempt to spit at him. “Fuck...off...” His boot deepens on your chest and you pass out promptly after that. “Wait until you see what I have in store~” You turn around to see Loba smiling at you, her hand outstretched and you take it. She’s smiling, the same smile you’ve seen on her when she had found some rather good loot or when she had time to visit you. It’s a quick trip down your apartment, loading up into the cab she must have called and you lean against her. “Aren’t you affectionate?” She teases, nudging you slightly. “You utter poor fool.” “Better a fool for you,” you murmur and you smile against her, feeling her tense up before relaxing. “Besides, I’m your fool.” “That you are.” The words are laced with more affection and you bask in it. “My, poor, pain-loving fool.” This time it’s you who flush. “Excuse me! I’m not—" you pull away to continue your sentence but she places a hand over your lips. Her eyes glinting with amusement. “Not all secrets need to be spilled,” she purrs and you sigh, leaning into her touch as she strokes your cheek. “So where are we going?” You ask after a while, pulling away to smile at her. “I hope I haven’t forgotten anything important.” “For your sake, I hope you never do.” She hums before turning her attention outside. “Be patient.” She tells you. “I’m not patient.” You grin and lean against the chair. “But for you, I’ll do it.” “You do a lot of things for me,” Loba says, and she turns to look at you again, appraising you. You hadn’t seen her look at you—not when your eyes are closed and you’re covered in the lights of the city—a myriad of different colors that somehow brighten your features. “You’ll see.” “Okay, Ms. Andrade.” You snort, opening your eyes, barely missing her quick glance at your direction. “Wherever you go, I’ll follow.” She smiles, hiding it by looking outside and she holds the vault key to her own treasure vault tightly. “Good. I’d like to keep it that way.”

#apex legends #loba #loba/reader #loba x female reader #loba x reader #did I sell my soul for her #absolutely #am i a gay mess?? EVEN BIGGER ABSOLUTELY #I'm just a mess please HAHAHA

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fandom-imagines-stories · 4 years ago

Text

Makayla Part Three

Sam Winchester x Reader

Words: 2149

Part One; Part Two

Summary: Tensions are high in the bunker as you make a plan of attack against the vampires. Sam tries to make up for lost time. Everyone bonds with the newest Winchester.

Notes: Okay, writing Sam trying to figure out how to be a dad is sooooo fun. Also, Uncle Dean is possibly my favorite thing ever. I hope you guys enjoy part three to this series! I’m having a blast!

Special shout out to my amazing beta reader Sarah, @suckmysupernatural . I love her so much and honestly, she’s helped me so much in getting these imagines out for you and she has some absolutely killer writing of her own!

Want more Supernatural? Find it HERE

“Mom!” You woke up to the sound of your daughter screaming. “Mommy!” Makayla was kicking at the blankets, her little fists swinging at some invisible monster. Another nightmare. You grabbed her and pulled her into your arms.

“It’s okay, baby. Wake up. I’ve got you.” You rocked her back and forth until her eyes opened, fat tears spilling onto her cheeks. “You’re alright, Kayla.”

“It was the monsters again. The shadow man.”

“He isn’t here, baby.” You ran your fingers through her hair. “He can’t hurt you.” Your door flew open and Dean and Sam rushed in, Mary peaked out behind them.

“What is it? Did it hurt you?” Sam rushed to the bed while Dean checked every corner, both holding their pistols. Mary even had a machete at the ready.

“It’s okay, guys. She just had a bad dream.” You explained, groggily getting out of bed with Kayla still trembling in your arms. “Do you guys have any milk? That usually helps her calm down.” Sam thought for a moment, but Dean responded quickly.

“Chocolate or white?” Sam turned and gave him a strange look. “What? That stuff is the nectar of the gods, Sammy.” Sam shook his head.

“I can’t believe you're older than me.”

“C-can I have chocolate milk, daddy?” Kayla sniffed.

“See, the kid gets it.” Dean scoffed. Mary smacked his arm. Sam was still processing being called dad.

“Come on, I’ll take you to the kitchen.” Sam held out his arms to take her and you hesitated. Then you remembered that you had been doing this for four years and he had missed all of it. You tried to give him a peace making smile, but he ignored you. Makayla buried her face in his shoulder, trying to hide her tears like a tough girl. Sam sat her down and went over to the fridge, finding the chocolate milk hidden behind a case of beers.

“I woke everybody up.” Makayla cried, covering her face with her small hands. Sam poured the milk and hurried back over to her.

“Hey, no, it’s okay.” He soothed, gently pulling her hands away. “Here, have some of this.” He held up the glass of milk to her lips and she drank slowly, her tears eventually stopping. “Better?” She nodded slightly. Sam pulled up a chair beside her, setting the now half empty cup on the table.

“I bet you never get scared.” Makayla looked at him, her big blue-green eyes filled with awe. Her eyes looked like his. Sam smiled.

“I get scared all the time.”

“Really?” She gasped.

“Oh yeah. In fact, I have nightmares too.” Her mouth fell open and Sam continued, his tone sweet and caring. “I used to be really scared of my nightmares, but you know what I did?” She leaned forward excitedly. “I told myself that I can face anything as long as I remember that I’m not alone. So the next time that you get scared by the…”

“The shadow man.” She shivered.

“Okay, the next time you get shared by the shadow man, you just remember that you’ve got me and your mom and your Uncle Dean and Grandma Mary. You’ve even got an angel on your side.” Her eyes widened.

“An angel?” Sam couldn’t help but laugh at her excitement.

“That’s right, sweetie, Uncle Cas is like your guardian uncle.” Cas could barely guard himself most of the time, but she didn’t need to know that. “You can always fight your fears when you remember that you are never alone.” She hugged his arm, her cheek pressed against his shoulder.

“My mom is right.” She beamed. “You are a hero.” And just like that, Sam Winchester’s heart melted and not just for the little girl clinging to him. Yup… he was in trouble.

Sam stayed up most of the night getting Makayla back to sleep so he slept in a little longer than the rest of the bunker. Mary got up first and made the coffee, followed by you and then a very disgruntled looking Dean. You were curled up in one of the chairs, looking over your journal. There had to be some way to connect all of your research to find the vampires’ nest.

“It looks like that girl has got Sam wrapped around her finger already.” Mary smirked, looking at you as she sipped her coffee. She wasn’t your biggest fan, of course, but heart breaker or not, you still gave Sam what she had always hoped for him- a family of his own. Dean made a sound, but he was still only half awake.

“So I’ve pinpointed the area of the nest, but not the specific location.” You slid your journal across the table to him. “During slower hunting seasons, they’ve stayed near home in Springfield, Colorado. As far as I know, there’s fifteen, maybe seventeen.”

“Perfect,” Dean grumbled. You were about to add something when your eyes went wide.

“Dean!” You shrieked, pointing to the doorway. He turned around in confusion.

“Oh god,” He jumped out of his chair and rushed to Makayla, who had somehow found his pistol and was now pointing it at his mother. “Hey kiddo, I’m going to need you to give that back to me.” He laughed nervously, holding out his hand.

“How did she get that?” Mary exclaimed.

“Hell if I know.” Dean kept smiling, hoping that Makayla would calmly hand over his very lethal weapon.

“That’s a bad word, Uncle Dean.” Kayla scolded, shaking the pistol at him. Dean’s eyes widened frantically.

“Makayla Mary Y/L/N, give him that gun. You know that it’s not a toy.” Your mom voice instinctively kicked in and Makayla pouted her lip, giving you her classic puppy dog gaze. You could tell that Dean’s resolve was failing to her cuteness, but you were holding strong. You put your hands on your hips. “Now.” She handed Dean his pistol and he quickly tucked it into his waistband. Mary was looking at you, blush spreading on her cheeks.

“What did you say her name was?” She gasped. You hadn’t even realized that you said her full name.

“It’s um, Makayla, after my best friend. And Mary… after you.” Even if Sam didn’t know when she was born, you still wanted his family to be a part of her. For the first time since you’d met, Mary looked at you without glaring. She looked really touched.

“Piggyback ride!” Makayla squealed before suddenly jumping onto Dean’s back.

“Son of a-” He started until you gave him a stern look. He glared back at you, but underneath his annoyance, he had a tone of affection in his voice when he spoke to his niece. “Alright kid, but only for a few laps.” You looked on with an amused smile. Dean even made a few horse noises, making Makayla giggle. You felt your phone buzz in your pocket. It was Naomi, probably just calling to check in and make sure you were alright.

“Miss me already? How sweet.” You snarked. Your smirk dropped when it wasn’t her voice on the other line.

“We’ve been looking for you for a long time.” The man drawled. Your heart dropped. You knew that voice. That night flashed through your head. That fake southern sweetness singing your name as they hunted you, your best friend’s blood still dripping from their lips. Montgomery.

“Where’s Naomi?” You snapped, your changed tone catching Mary’s attention.

“She was delicious.” He laughed. You tried to focus on your anger to cover up the pain that shot through your chest.

“I’m going to end you, you bastard.” You said through gritted teeth. He just laughed.

“We know all about the little team you’ve assembled. It’s touching really. To think I’ve inspired a family reunion.” The vamp mocked you and you could feel the hot tears blurring your vision. “Make no mistake, Y/N. They’ll all die. Starting with that handsome tall one, the one that knocked you up all those years ago. But don’t worry, I have bigger plans for you.” His voice changed to a terrifying growl. “I’m going to turn you, Y/N. Turn you into the thing you’ve hated for so long. And that brat will be your first kill.”

Montgomery hung up and you looked at the phone with a shaking hand. Don’t let him get to you. Don’t let him get to you. You threw the phone against the wall, watching it shatter on the floor. You didn’t even see Sam standing there. You were lucky you missed his head. Dean put a frightened Makayla down.

“Hey Kayla, why don’t you go with Grandma Mary for a little while?” Dean gave her a little push towards his mother and Mary took her to the other room. His flashed back to you. “The hell was that?”

“They killed Naomi.” You said, resisting the urge to wreck anything you could get your hands on, especially since Dean was the closest. “They killed her because she helped me.” Naomi was a good friend. Whenever you needed someone to watch over Makayla, it was Naomi’s place that you took her to. No questions as long as you came back in one piece.

“I’m sorry.” Sam sighed. His kind tone nearly made you break. You needed someone to yell, to blame you for letting this happen.

“We’ve got to take this sons of bitches out.” Dean was itching to kill and he knew you were too.

“We need a plan first, Dean. We can’t just go in swinging machetes.” Sam scoffed. “We don’t even know where they are.”

“We can always draw them out.” You suggested. “They want me, they can come and get me.”

“What? No.” Sam exclaimed. “That’s not even remotely an option.”

“Sam, it might be the only way to get to them.” You refuted. “They’ve been hunting me for too long. If Montgomery wants to dance, then I say ‘let’s dance’.”

“Did you suddenly forget that this isn’t just about you?” His jaw clenched and he crossed the kitchen to you.

“I’m doing this for Makayla.”

“No, you’re doing this for you!” Your faces were too close together and the look in his eyes made you take a step back. “You’ve gotten that sweet girl messed up in your fight for revenge when she should have grown up playing with teddy bears and Barbies.” That was the last straw. This wasn’t just about you.

“I am not John, Sam.” You spat. How dare he stand there and call you a bad mother? Sam just glared.

“Really, cause it seems to me you’re just like him. Makayla is growing up just like I did. A parent obsessed with vengeance, no regard for how screwed up they’re making their kid!” He barely finished his sentence before you slapped him.

Nobody said a word. Sam jerked his head back towards you and Dean was ready to step in before this got ugly. The moment was interrupted, however, by the quiet sound of crying. Your heart dropped and a wave of guilt washed over both you and Sam. Makayla looked up at her parents.

“We’re supposed to be a family.” She bawled. “Why do you have to fight?” Before either of you could say anything, she took off down the hall.

“Makayla!” Sam yelled, feeling absolutely awful.

“Kayla, honey come back!” The three of you went after her, but it was a big bunker and she was a pretty small child. “Makayla!”

“Damn that kid is fast.” Dean muttered. You stopped.

“Okay, Dean, you go check the dungeon, I’ll go check the bedrooms, and Sam you can look in the garage.” You suggested. Sam nodded, your fight put aside, but not forgotten. His cheek still stung a little.

“Makayla!” He called out, hearing you and Dean depart for your designated areas. He opened the door to the garage and was surprised to find the door open. “Makayla, come on out.” A cold breeze blew in and he noticed a little huddled form just outside the garage door. He took off his flannel and slowly peeked outside. “Sweetheart, what are you doing out here?” He draped his shirt around her. It might as well have been a blanket.

“I-I don’t like yelling. The shadow man always yells.” She cried. Sam sighed. He had made his daughter cry because he couldn’t just face his real feelings for you.

“I’m so sorry sweetie, you’re mom and I were having a disagreement. We won’t yell anymore.”

“Why did Mommy hit you?”

“She didn’t mean to.” He gave her a convincing smile. Makayla peeked over his shoulder.

“Who’s that?” Sam’s brows furrowed together.

“Wh-” His head was slammed into the ground before he could even turn around.

“Leave my daddy alone!” Makayla cried and a person in all black picked her up.

“No…” Sam said hazily, his consciousness slowly fading. “Makayla…”

Continue to Part Four

General Tag: @rae-gar-targaryen; @takemepedropascal; @childhood-imagination; @mylovegoesto; @yellowbadgergirl; @itmejado

Supernatural: @desimarie12; @deandreamernp; @vicmc624; @halesandy @livshaes; @d-whinchestergirl87; @mrspeacem1nusone

Sam Winchester: @theamuz; @adeliness

Makayla Series: @rhiannon-the-troublemaker; @hoboal87

#sam winchester x reader #sam winchester daughter #dean winchester #supernatural imagine #mary winchester #winchester family #Jared Padalecki

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caretaker-au · 5 years ago

Text

Kindness & Justice: Backstory

The two adolescent girls huddled around a small campfire in the twilight, trying to finish their dinner before nightfall. The tall cook poured the remains of pancake batter into the cast iron pan, mentally crossing her fingers that this one wouldn’t stick as bad as the previous one did.

“This is the last one,” the cook said, “You want it?”

“No, that one is all yours,” her friend answered between mouthfuls. She didn’t have a fork, so she had rolled up the pancake like a burrito. At some point, her black cowboy hat had fallen off her head and hung against her back by the drawstring. It was her latest attempt at bringing Western wear back into vogue. “I shouldn’t have teased you for packing all that kitchen stuff. This turned out way better than I expected.”

“Worth it?” the cook asked with a grin.

“Worth it,” the shorter girl smiled. She finished off her food and stretched, moving her hat so she could lay down by the fire. The pink-streaked clouds floated overhead. It was warm enough that the fire was a little bit uncomfortable, but it didn’t seem right to lay anywhere else.

“So…” the cowgirl ventured, “You ready to talk about what happened with your folks?”

“Ugh, not really,” she answered, prodding at the batter with the spatula, “But, after working so hard to cheer me up, I suppose you’ve earned the right to know... Mom and Dad cornered me about their suspicions, and I told them the truth about us. Well, not about us, exactly, I left you out of it. I told them about me.”

“I’m guessing they didn’t take it too well.”

“I mean, they took it about as well as expected. Shouting, some crying, the whole works. Kept saying it was their fault, but that didn’t stop them from blaming me anyway.” The cook glanced at her friend, and saw her scowling. “It really wasn’t that bad though,” she added, “I mean, it could have been a lot worse, I’m pretty lucky, when you think about it.”

“Are you kidding me?” she sat up, her face incredulous, “Your parents are the lucky ones for having a daughter like you! They don’t deserve you, and you don’t deserve to be treated like a mistake. The unfairness of it all, it just--” she clenched the fabric of her skirt, stumbling over her words, “Once we get back to the city, I’m going to give them a piece of my mind.”

“I really wish you wouldn’t…” the tall girl said, her voice falling low, “I know it’s not your style, but I want you to try to be nice to them.” The cowgirl rolled her eyes, so she continued with a bit of forced smile, “Not for them but for me, okay?”

The short friend sighed, “Okay, for you. Is that thing done cooking yet?”

In response, the cook jerked the pan, masterfully flipping the pancake over. One side was a perfect golden brown. “Just a little bit longer now.”

The cowgirl sat up, surveying the campsite. The two of them had never been camping before, and the hike had been much harder than either of them had anticipated. It didn’t help that they had over-packed and had to cut their climb a bit short as a result. Nonetheless, the clear warm night and birds chirping in the trees made the escape feel almost as magical as the girls had hoped for. A quiet sanctuary where no people would be around: well, most likely no people, that is.

“Hey, speaking of miserable family members,” the short girl ventured, “Did I ever tell you about the skeleton in my family’s closet?”

“This better not be one of your weird scary horror stories.”

“It sure is!” she answered. The cowgirl jumped to her feet, clearing her voice in preparation for the tale, “Listen to this: when my grandpa was a little kid, his brother tried to murder him.”

“How very ‘Cain and Abel’,” the cook smirked, “You can’t just start there. Start at the beginning of the story. What lead up to it?”

“That’s just it, no one really knows. Everyone says he just snapped and went crazy when the two of them were home alone. Grandpa was just happily playing video games at the time, so maybe his brother wanted a turn.”

“That… doesn’t seem like a very compelling motive,” the cook said, checking the underside of her pancake, “Are you sure your grandpa’s not exaggerating?”

“It’s the truth!” the cowgirl insisted, “His brother attacked him and cracked his head against the coffee table. They found gramps in a puddle of blood in the living room, and he had to be rushed to the hospital and got six stitches! But I still haven’t gotten to the best part.” The girl paused for dramatic effect.

“Best or worst?” the cook lifted the whole pancake with her spatula and tested a small bite on the edge. It was still too hot to eat.

“The best part is…” the cowgirl swept her arm towards the dimly lit forest around them, “His brother fled to this very mountain. And he was never found again.”

“What?” the girl dropped her pancake on the ground. She quickly snapped it up and set it back in the pan. Dirt and ash was stuck to it.

“Five second rule,” the cowgirl murmured.

“Did you just say your grandpa--”

“Great uncle.”

“--your great uncle ran away to this mountain and died?”

“Disappeared. Maybe he still roams this mountain, searching for more innocent children to send to their graves…” The short girl’s voice was dramatic, but her eyes were dancing with mischief.

“Are you kidding me, that’s so creepy! And to think coming here was your idea! Was this all a set up to scare me?” The cook crossed her arms, but her friend just laughed.

“No, no! To be honest, I didn’t realize this particular trail was a part of The Mount Ebott until we were on our way.”

“A likely story,” the cook murmured as she nibbled the edge of her pancake.

“It’ll be fine, really. Oh, I know--I have something to protect you from any undead uncles. Check this out!” the cowgirl skipped towards their yellow tent and unzipped her backpack that was laying in front of it. She withdrew a long leather holster, with a revolver already tucked inside it.

The tall girl’s jaw dropped open, “You brought your dad’s gun?!”

“Maybe,” she giggled, strapping the holster around her waist, “It will be my gun in a few years, I’m just borrowing it a little early.”

“Do you even know how to use one of those things?”

“Yeah, yeah, I shoot it every year on my birthday. Family tradition.” the gunslinger drew her weapon, pointing it out towards the woods.

“Don’t--”

“It’s okay, it’s not loaded,” she said, popping open the cylinder, “The ammo’s in my bag.”

The cook shook her head, “And I thought my family was crazy.”

The cowgirl spun the gun around her finger and holstered the weapon with practiced flourish. She spoke with an exaggerated drawl, “Don’t worry, darlin’, this lone ranger will defend you from any murderin’ spectral horrors.”

“Stop it! You’re awful!” the cook laughed, before taking another bite of her food. It wasn’t as dirty as she thought, and she swallowed a few more bites before stuffing the rest in her mouth.

“You hear that?” the lone ranger put a hand to her ear, “It won’t be safe for long, we best be getting to bed before the devil finds us.”

“Oh please, that’s enough, Calamity Jane.”

“I prefer the name--”

She was cut off by the sharp crack of a snapped branch. The gunslinger stilled, turning in the direction of the noise, “What was that?”

The tall girl huffed in response, “I said cut it out--" but the cowgirl shushed her, scanning the dense foliage around them. Her heart caught in her throat as she saw a pair of eyes glinting from their firelight. A huge creature, larger than a man, was standing on two legs and peering into the camp from about two hundred feet away.

"There's--" the gunslinger's voice strained to form the words, "There's a bear."

The cook froze. She reached for her cast iron pan and held it with both hands. "What do we do?" she whispered.

The cowgirl shook her head. There weren't supposed to be bears in this area. According to her research, none had been seen for over a decade, which is why she hadn't bothered to look up how to defend against one. The bear dropped down to all fours, and they could hear it begin to huff and snarl.

"Get ready to run," she hissed. The cook stood, and the shorter girl eyed her backpack that held her ammunition. It was sitting at the foot of the tent, but she would have to go toward the monster to retrieve it. The bag was only fifteen feet away but it might as well have been fifteen miles.

The two didn’t have a chance to decide when to act. With a roar, the bear lunged forward, crashing through the foliage as it charged. The cook shrieked, fleeing the camp, but the cowgirl did the opposite, sprinting towards her bag. She had almost reached it when the tent surged forward, collapsing on top of her in a wave of nylon and snapped metal supports. The gunslinger fell to her back and she pushed the tangle of tent away from her face, only to see the bear looming over her, separated only by the crushed tent. The girl shielded her face with her arms and braced herself for what was to come.

“Get away from her!” her friend screamed. She had returned, and had taken to bludgeoning the bear’s hindquarters with her pan. The bear twisted around and swiped a clawed paw towards her, but the cook jumped back, turning heel to run again. With a snarl, the bear released the cowgirl and chased its assailant. The gunslinger kicked the tangled tent off her legs and before she realized it she was chasing the bear, screaming obscenities and death threats. The cook was fast, but the bear was faster, and she lost sight of them both as they crested a small hill outside the camp.

A blood curdling shriek filled the tree tops, followed by silence.

The gunslinger tore up the slope and hesitated when she reached the apex. Her friend was nowhere in sight, but the bear had already changed directions, loping back towards her. Her fingers reached for her gun, but she reminded herself it was still empty, and willed herself to retreat. The rapid thumping of the bear’s steps told her she wouldn’t make it to the camp before it caught up with her.

Overhead, the large branch of a cedar bowed over her. Leaping, the girl grabbed it and hoisted herself onto the branch before scrambling up the next. The bear was under the tree in an instant, stretching to full height to swipe at her. Its claw caught her foot, nearly yanking her out of the tree, but only managed to knock off her boot. The girl continued to climb, and the bear snapped off the lower branches, pushing against the trunk. The tree shuddered and flexed under the weight.

With one arm wrapped tight around a branch, the cowgirl pulled off her remaining boot and tossed it down. It bounced off the bear’s shoulder, who gave it a glance before turning its attention back to the girl. She whispered a prayer before unholstering her weapon, and threw the revolver at the monster. The gun crashed against the bear’s muzzle with an audible whack, and the bear pulled back from the tree, shaking its head. She held her breath as the bear paced around the tree before leaving in the direction of the camp. The dense canopy obstructed her view of it, but the tell tale sounds of the creature ripping through bags and crunching through supplies told her all she needed to know.

The girl settled onto the upper branches of the tree and wrapped her arms around the trunk. Against the odds, she was safe but trapped. Without a loaded gun, leaving the tree wasn’t a risk she could afford to take. To make matters worse, the last rays of twilight were fading away, cloaking the woods in frigid darkness. Her flashlight, phone, and ammunition were all at the camp, hidden under the destroyed tent. There was nothing she could do but wait it out.

***

Two hours elapsed before the bear left the camp. Another 30 minutes went by before the gunslinger felt safe enough to crawl down from the tree. Her fingers and toes were frozen and her legs ached as she collected her gun and put her boots back on. However, she didn’t have the luxury to pity herself. Through the dark, she crept back to where the campfire once was and strained her eyes in the dim moonlight for the remains of the tent. It had been dragged a good distance away, destroyed beyond use. She was relieved to find her backpack still twisted up inside, and rifled through the contents. She flicked on her flashlight and put it in the crook of her neck as she loaded her gun. Only six bullets, just enough to show it off to her friend.

If only she had loaded it earlier, then that monster would have got what it deserved.

The lone ranger returned to the camp and cast her flashlight across the ransacked carnage. Clothes and supplies were strewn throughout the foliage, and all that remained of the food were shredded cans and crushed boxes. Even the cooking utensils had been mutilated with gnaw marks. Rage boiled inside her.

The forest looked very dizzyingly similar at night, and she found herself walking in circles, ending up back at the camp again and again. Finally, she accurately identified the hill she had last seen her friend and was surprised to discover a steep drop of about twenty feet not far from it, jagged granite boulders resting at the base. There she found her first lead. A conspicuous dark splatter against the white rocks: blood.

The small girl shouted her friend’s name, but there was no response. She climbed down the steep surface of the cliff side at a much slower pace than her friend would have been afforded. The blood was no longer fresh, but she could see the direction it led before the ground cover became more soil than stone. She followed the trail.

The ferns and ivy lashed across her torn stockings, but she continued forward, right hand hovering over her weapon. She stopped at the entrance of a cave yawning out of the mountainside. It looked both parts refuge and trap. Didn’t bears live in caves?

She called out her friend’s name again, but was answered only with a faint echo. At least it was better than the growl of bears. She shined her light across the back of the cave and could see the tunnel curved, making it impossible to see how deep it was. As she traced the floor with the light, something sparkled. The gunslinger ventured forward and pinched it between her fingers: a hair pin, with a small crystal embedded at the end. The last time she had seen it was in her friend’s hair. She had been here.

The cowgirl huffed out a shuddering sigh, and she couldn’t tell if it was from relief or a renewed sense of dread. If her friend had been here, where was she now?

The child took a deep breath and stepped deeper into the cave.

kindness and justice: backstory // end

[ ✧ START ] [ « BACK ] [ NEXT CHAPTER » ]

#undertale #undertale au #bravery #the caretaker of the ruins #main comic #justice #apron kid #back story #story summary #unfortunately i had to read a lot of bear attack stories as research for this #these kids literally do everything wrong when it comes to facing a bear #amazing that they lived long enough for chara to finish them off

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imaginetonyandbucky · 4 years ago

Text

(Give Me A) Reason To Live

Chapter 3

by @dracusfyre

“Are you sure about this?” James asked. He was methodically checking his weapons as he distributed them around his body, putting knives in sheaths and guns in holsters. With his cleanly shaved face and newly cut hair – the better for Steve to recognize him – in that stolen SHIELD tactical gear, he was so goddamn sexy that Tony could barely look at him.

“I’ll be a lot safer than you will,” Tony pointed out. “All I have to do is fly around and blow up stuff until you give me the word.”

“Unless they scramble jets or attack helicopters on you,” James pointed out, but Tony waved off his words.

“They’re not going to fire on me in the middle of the city, and once I’m out of the city they won’t be able to keep up,” Tony said confidently, 99% sure of the first part and about 80% sure of the second part. For obvious reasons he’d never tested the suit in a one-to-one matchup with a fighter jet, but he knew their specs and felt good about his chances. “Are you ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” James said.

A funny note in his voice made Tony glance over, only to see that James was looking at him intently, with a look in his eyes that Tony couldn’t interpret. But it made his heart trip and his mouth dry and before his brain could intervene, he said, “Kiss for good luck?” The look in James’ eyes turned to surprise, and when he took a step forward and opened his mouth Tony panicked. “I’m kidding, obviously,” he babbled, backing away. “Probably should get started, don’t want Steve to wake up without us.”

James narrowed his eyes in a way that promised that he wasn’t going to forget about this, but only said, “We’ll do a comms check on my way to the SHIELD facility.”

“Yep,” Tony said brightly, starting to shove his hands in his pocket before realizing that his flight suit didn’t have pockets, then crossing his arms over his chest instead. “Meet you guys back at the cabin, right?”

“Yeah. We’ll be there as soon as we can.” As James turned to leave, Tony started to give him a stupid little wave goodbye; he turned it into just a gesture of running his hand through his hair before James could see it. It felt weird and wrong to split up, knowing that he wasn’t going to see James again for at least a week, maybe longer if they had to shake any pursuit. It would be the longest they’d been apart since he’d rescued him from Hydra, and Tony just now realized how much he was going to miss him.

“Bye,” he said softly as the door closed behind James. “Be safe.”

~~~~

James paused inside the garage, turning to stare at the door he had just closed as he wondered if he’d heard what he thought he’d heard. He wanted to go back inside and say goodbye properly, maybe take Tony up on that kiss he’d offered and then taken back, but Tony had been right – the timing on this mission was unforgiving, and if he went back inside he knew he wouldn’t be able to leave again for a while. So instead he just said, “You, too,” to the door and got in the car, anonymous black SUV bought at a police auction with stolen government tags. He took a deep breath as he cranked it up and opened the garage door, trying to set aside his worry for Tony. As good as his suit was – and it was fucking good, James was impressed and proud of how Tony always seemed to find a new way to make it even better – it didn’t make him invincible. James could think of at least three ways off the top of his head to take down the suit and prayed that the element of surprise would keep them from occurring to anyone else.

“Man in a Can, are you there?” James said when he was almost there. The SHIELD facility was near Times Square, for some reason; maybe they’d thought that since Steve had grown up in New York, it would be a good place to start his reintegration, as if the city hadn’t become unrecognizable in the last sixty years. It would be more unsettling than if Steve had woken up in the middle of nowhere, or even still in fucking Greenland.

“Hearing you loud and clear, Terminator.” James rolled his eyes but let himself smile at the call sign. He found a parking spot on the block behind the SHIELD facility, near an alley that would eventually dump into the building’s loading docks.

“I’m in position,” he said.

“Alright. It’s go time,” Tony said, voice barely betraying a hint of nerves. It suddenly occurred to James that he hadn’t really asked what Tony was planning for his distraction, and he had just enough time to feel like maybe that was a mistake before he heard the distinctive whistle and pop of fireworks. Craning his head to see the sky out of his window, he saw streamers of brightly colored smoke appear and heard Tony say something through the speakers in his suit, the echoes of the city making it hard to understand from where he was sitting. But people were starting to hurry away from the building, and the unmistakable sound of flash-bangs going off were his cue. He pulled on his helmet and got out of the car, rifle in hand.

“Building is under attack!” He shouted at the security guards as he approached. “We need to get this place evacuated!” Between the stolen uniform and the air of command – and probably also due to the sound of explosions – they believed him and ran inside to start getting people outside.

James strode through the chaos inside, directing people towards the exists as he made his way to where Steve was being held. He had to go through metal detectors and jump over turnstiles, but everyone was too busy to challenge him as he wove his way deeper into the labyrinthine building. SHIELD had gone with a ridiculous farce to try to ease Steve into the 21st century, setting up a stage inside a warehouse sized room like Steve hadn’t spent enough time on movie stages to recognize one when he saw it. Guards were posted outside, and word of Tony’s distraction must have reached them because when James approached they were talking to each other in low tones, probably deciding whether they needed to get Steve out of there or stay at their posts.

“Change in plans, guys,” James said as he approached, trying to sound breathless and worried. “The director wants us to move him, building is under attack from an unknown assailant and he’s worried for his safety.”

“Move him? But-” James punched him in the face with his metal arm and elbowed the other in the solar plexus before hitting him in the temple with the butt of his rifle, glad that these poor assholes hadn’t been issued helmets.

Then he opened the door to Steve’s room, and despite the fact he’d known what SHIELD had done, the sensation of stepping into the past made him stumble. The sound of the radio, tuned to a Yankees game, was disorienting, as were the images of an older New York being projected outside the windows.

And then there was Steve, laid out on the bed like a man on a stretcher. James pulled off his helmet and approached slowly; seeing him was the most jarring of all, because he looked exactly the same. James felt suddenly felt old, seeing Steve’s face relaxed in sleep; he felt every single one of the sixty years he’d been with Hydra, even if he’d been frozen through most of them. Christ. Waking him up would eventually mean facing those years, in a way he’d been able to avoid with Tony; Tony had known everything already, so James hadn’t had to talk about it at all, just shove it away and forget about it. No awkward conversations about nightmares and insomnia, since Tony had those too. It wouldn’t be like that with Steve, though. Steve would want to know, wouldn’t take no for an answer, would want to know about the arm and the scars and the nightmares. The blood on his hands. He wouldn’t judge, not Steve, but he wouldn’t get it, either, not like Tony did.

Tony had been right. This was going to change everything.

Taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, James sat down on the edge of the bed. The simple motion was already pulling Steve out of sleep; James saw his breathing change, heard his heart speed up and eyes start moving behind his eyelids.

“Steve,” James said softly. “Time to get up, you lazy fuck.” He hadn’t known what he was going to say until it came out of his mouth, but when it did, James found a new memory; calling Steve a lazy fuck was an inside joke from the war, since Steve had always been up at dawn and bursting with energy.

That made Steve’s eyes fly open. “Bucky?”

James stood as Steve sat up suddenly, eyes glued to his face. “Yeah, it’s me, Steve.”

“What- you-“ he started, before settling on, “How?”

“Long story.” Hell of an understatement. “I’ll tell you when we’re safe.”

“Safe? What do you-” Steve’s eyes flew around the room, and he picked up on all the false elements, the wrong notes and mistakes in the room that James had noticed when he’d walked in. “Where are we?”

“Not a place where we want to stay,” James said. He pulled off the small backpack that had been strapped to his back and pulled out a janitor’s uniform for Steve. “Put this on.”

Even though Steve was still confused, he obeyed, clearly still trusting James. And why wouldn’t he, James thought. He didn’t know what James had been doing the past sixty years. “I’m ready,” Steve said as he zipped it up the front. Standing there, shoulders squared and jaw tight, he didn’t look like a janitor, he looked like goddamned Captain America wearing a janitor’s uniform, but this was they best they were going to get right now. James chucked his helmet and the body armor with the giant SHIELD patch on it and stripped down to a plain burgundy shirt with dark pants to blend in with a crowd.

“Let’s go.” As James led the way out, he turned the mic on to Tony and said, “I got him. We’re heading out now.”

Thankfully, Steve was stubborn but not stupid; as soon as they got out to where there were still streams of people trying to leave the building, he understood immediately what the plan was and his shoulders slumped, making him look shorter and smaller. Explosions outside the large glass windows meant that no one was paying attention to anything but evacuating, so they managed to mingle with an unsuspecting crowd of SHIELD employees to a safe point a few blocks away. They slowly made their way to the edge of the crowd, then just walked away, heading towards an empty NYC cab that James had acquired for their escape. James was just thinking that he was surprised that the mission had gone off without a hitch, when something flashed over his head with a load roar.

“What the hell is that?” Steve said. James looked up in time to see the bright red and gold of Tony’s latest suit disappear down the street, then another loud roar came up from behind them - a quinjet, hot on Tony’s heels. Fast as a jet and as maneuverable as a helicopter, the quinjet was SHIELD’s latest baby, and James cursed because he hadn’t known they were ready to be deployed yet.

“You okay?” James said to Tony on the comms as he herded Steve into the back of the taxi. Not that there was much James could do about it if he wasn’t, since he still had to get Steve out of the city. The thought of Hydra getting their hands on Steve, of getting him into the chair, had been the cause of more than one sleepless night.

“I’m good,” Tony said back. “Still got a few tricks up my sleeve.”

James nodded, though Tony obviously couldn’t see him, and got in the driver’s seat of the cab. “One of those guys is with you?” Steve asked from the back, having clearly overheard his conversation.

“Yeah, the one that looked like a robot,” James said as he pulled into traffic. “His name is Tony. You’ll be meeting him back at our safe house.” Thankfully, New York was used to cabs driving aggressively and honking, so he didn’t draw any undue attention as he made his way out of the city. Whenever he looked in the rearview mirror, he could see Steve staring out the window, looking dismayed and baffled by what he was seeing, but he knew better than to distract James by asking questions while they were trying to escape. Soon enough they were out of traffic and into the relative safety of Newark, where James drove the taxi to the airport then hustled Steve into yet another car, this one a beige sedan.

“Are we clear?” Steve asked as James pulled out of the long-term parking lot, pulling the ballcap James had provided him farther down over his face for the parking lot security.

“Clear enough for now,” James said, shoulders finally starting to relax as they got onto the highway heading west. He hadn’t heard from Tony, but that had been part of the plan; the less communication, the better, because SHIELD and the military and Hydra would all be scanning the airwaves trying to get a lock on them. In fact, that reminded him; he pulled the comm device from his ear and crushed it before tossing it out the window. He knew in his head that Tony could take care of himself, but he also knew that he was going to get back to the cabin as fast as possible so he could make sure he was ok.

“Good,” Steve said. “Now are you going to tell me what the hell is going on?”

~~~~

Tony barrel rolled through the canyons made by New York’s skyscrapers, feeling almost giddy as he fled from the quinjet. The fact that this SHIELD facility had a quinjet was a surprise that he should feel embarrassed about, but to be honest, he was actually having fun. He never really got the chance to push the suit to its limits since they’d mostly been doing stealth operations against Hydra; he’d even been too afraid of being seen to give it a good test run unless they were close to the open ocean.

“JARVIS, turn me on some tunes,” Tony said, and saw his playlist pop up on his HUD before he heard AC/DC blast out of his speakers. The quinjet was able to keep up with him, but obviously they couldn’t fire on him, so for now it was just a fun game of can’t catch me while people gawked from the streets and sidewalk. As big as the quinjet was, that pilot had amazing reflexes and nerves of steel to navigate through the city without damaging any of the buildings. “What’s the word with the Air National Guard?”

“ETA twenty minutes.”

Tony pulled up to hover, and the quinjet, unable to stop so quickly, shot past him. He got a glimpse of the pilots as they flew by and was surprised to see a flash of red hair. He watched as they pulled into a vertical loop to turn around and come back for another pass. “Do you know James’ position?”

“His communicator is going over the George Washington Bridge now.”

“Great. Do we have any more of that smoke?”

“Yes, sir.”

Tony made sure that the quinjet was facing him as he flew east, dodging and weaving through the city, the red smoke streaming behind him laying an unmistakable trail. He blasted over Brooklyn, no doubt tangling air traffic over the city as he went past LaGuardia then turned south. He did a loop around the Statue of Liberty, just for fun, before heading east again. When he saw the Atlantic through the maze of buildings, he put on more speed and released the last of the smoke so that for a solid thirty seconds the quinjet didn’t have visibility on him, then dove into the water.

“Did it work, JARVIS?” Tony asked as he let himself sink into the murky water, making his way slowly out towards the open ocean.

“It appears so, sir. They are attempting to find you on radar now.”

Tony turned on the helmet lights for him to navigate the river, wrinkling his nose at the trash and watching the fish dart around him. The pilot of the quinjet must have suspected that he went into the water because they circled for a long time looking for him, making sweeping passes as they tried to pick him up on their sensors. But Tony had prepared for this; the rebreather in his suit was good for twelve hours before it needed to be replaced so he stayed under the water as he headed north until JARVIS couldn’t sense any signals for miles, radar, radio, or otherwise. GPS said he was somewhere off the coast of Maine, so he climbed to a good cruising altitude – high enough to not be seen by a casual observer, but low enough that he wouldn’t ping off of any air traffic control towers – and headed back west by way of the US-Canadian border.

It was a long, tiring flight, especially as he went through an adrenaline crash somewhere over South Dakota, but a few hours later he was landing in front of the safe house. He’d know that he’d be back well before James and Steve, but it was still jarring and lonely to walk into the dark cabin all by himself.

He stepped out of the suit and packed it up as he unlocked the door, then he flipped on the lights and froze when saw Stane. “Hello, Tony,” Stane said. “Welcome home.”

#winteriron #tony x bucky #tony stark #Bucky Barnes

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pastelsandpining · 4 years ago

Text

Christmas Wrappings (Missed Connections)

The tenth prompt in 12 Days of Christmas by @zelink-prompts, a sequel to prompt #4, Broken Heart

Prompt List

Words: 3072

Summary: Zelda attends Kakariko Village’s Hylia’s Day Celebration with her roommates, and Link shows up to join in on the fun.

Warnings: second hand embarrassment probably, statements such as “contemplated jumping into the nearest pond”

BotW Modern AU

Zelink-mas 2020 l Masterlist

A semester had passed by in the blink of an eye.

Well, that wasn’t very accurate. There were periods of time where the semester felt like it was just crawling, and there were times she became so overwhelmed with her work that she considered dropping out. But she loved her work with Sheikah technology, and she was at the top of nearly every class, and she loved the group of friends she’d made at Akkala Technical University, so she pushed through to the end.

Three of those close friends were Sheikah, which was incredibly helpful whenever she got stuck on a research paper or a lab. Two of those Sheikah friends were also her roommates, which meant she had help at all times. It also meant that she would be begging them all to come visit over the winter break.

That went both ways, of course. So when Impa and Purah demanded that Zelda come spend a week with them in Kakariko for the Hylia’s Day celebration, she couldn’t say no.

The village was quaint and Zelda fell in love with it immediately. Winter break or not, she could learn so much from just being around so many Sheikah. She was excited, to say the least.

Her phone vibrating in her pocket broke her moment of peace. She fished it out of her pocket and frowned. That slap of guilt had never left, which she was kindly reminded of every time she saw his name pop up on the screen.

[Hey, are you coming back to Castle Town for the break?]

Zelda took a breath and debated throwing her phone into the nearest pond. It was complicated. She tried ghosting him in the first few weeks of the semester, but that hurt more than talking to him did. So she chickened out of it with some lame excuse and decided to stay frustrated with herself for her stupid choices for the rest of time.

[I’m in Kakariko with some roommates for Hylia’s Day, but I’ll be back home in a week] she replied. His response was almost immediate.

[I’m in Hateno! You should come visit :)]

Goddesses, he was still annoyingly adorable. It was a good thing she was way past crying, or she’d be sniffling.

[Why don’t you make your way up here, lazy bones?]

[Is that an official invite? :D]

Zelda bit her lip and glanced around her, as if someone would be watching her mistakes over her shoulder. She still hadn’t entered the village yet. It wasn’t too late to book it to Castle Town and then revoke the playful invite.

[If you can make it here, then yes :)]

“Who’s got your nose glued to that phone?”

She jumped, sending her phone flying out of her hands and into a nearby bush. Of course, Purah doubled over in laughter as she went to fetch it.

“Purah!” Zelda exclaimed, just barely keeping herself from stomping like a child.

“Sorry,” Purah replied once she’d gained her breath back. But she wasn’t sorry at all. “Ugh, Link is still bothering you?”

“He’s not a bother,” Zelda defended, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Really? Because you told me you were over him.”

“That.. well, uh, might’ve been a teensy lie.”

Purah stared at her with what could only be described as a I-Shouldn’t-Be-Surprised-Because-You’re-That-Obvious-But-I’m-Disappointed-Anyway look and Zelda looked at anything but her roommate.

“You invited him over?!”

“I panicked!”

“How on Hylia’s green Hyrule you are the highest placing student at Akkala Tech is beyond me. Do you need a 101 in how to avoid ex boyfriends?”

“I don’t want to avoid him,” Zelda argued, but this conversation was going to take a turn if she didn’t stop it. “Where’s Impa?”

“She’s getting stuff ready at the house, but don’t think this is over because I’ll drag her into it too,” Purah warned as she linked an arm through hers and tugged her into the village.

“I’ll just tell him nevermind! It’s a girls week, right?”

Purah huffed and gave her another tug.

“Cherry’s coming at the end of the week and wherever Cherry goes, Robbie goes. So, no, not girls week.”

Zelda almost laughed. Seeing Robbie again was going to be interesting, but she was excited for it. A week away from home with some of her favorite people in all of Hyrule, what was not to love?

Purah took her to the largest house in the little village, and her excitement rose.

“You’re here!” exclaimed Impa when the door swung open. Zelda ripped her arm free from Purah’s hold so that she could hug her best friend.

“I love your house!” Zelda replied, looking around with wide eyes. “I’d stay here forever if I could.”

“We’re just getting started.”

It took less than ten minutes for Zelda to get settled in with the girls, and even less time for her to end up being scolded by both Sheikah sisters.

“Look at his photo,” Purah said, handing the phone off to Impa.

“And you let him go?” Impa asked incredulously as she looked up with wide eyes. Zelda felt like she was being interrogated.

“It’s complicated,” she defended, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Well, let me uncomplicate it.” Purah plucked the phone from Impa’s hands and Zelda nearly tackled her when she started typing.

“What are you doing?!”

“Helping you.”

When Zelda managed to wrestle her phone back to herself, Purah had already done the damage.

[Check it, it’s Z’s roommate. Come down any time ;) She’s gotta talk to you]

“Why?!” Zelda exclaimed, throwing the phone onto the nearest pillow so she didn’t have to see his response.

“Because you’re helpless!”

She looked to Impa for help, but Impa only shrugged.

“It’s for your own good, Z.”

Needless to say, day one of her trip to Kakariko didn’t go as planned.

The rest of the week went rather swimmingly compared to that. Zelda was coaxed into playing countless games with the village children, which was absolutely fascinating. They were so lively and intelligent. She remembered when she was like that, young and full of life before college sucked it right out of her.

Impa took her all over Kakariko, and then out to Goponga Village up in Lanayru Wetlands, and to Deya Village for a tour of places she’d never seen. The people were incredibly kind to her, and she was having more fun than she had when they were confined to the campus of their university.

It almost took her mind off of things entirely.

And Hylia’s Day came quickly. She spent it hanging up lights with Impa and Purah, watching a few other Sheikah return from the woods with game for the feast. Music was pouring from one corner, and Zelda scampered her way out of a dance with a poet by hiding behind Robbie—who’d arrived with Cherry for the celebration.

It was so different from how they celebrated in Castle Town, which was more of a carnival that lasted over a span of days. This was quieter, more personal, which made sense given the Sheikah were people of Hylia. It felt so much more intimate and real, and Zelda loved it. She wasn’t a diehard believer, but she respected it. During the opening prayer, facing the statue of the goddess, she even felt a sort of soft connection.

And then the festivities really kicked up. Zelda was almost ready to lose herself in the fun with her roommates, but in the process of searching for Purah with Impa, she ran into a very familiar face. Quite literally.

She scrambled backwards, grabbing onto Impa’s arm so she didn’t lose her footing.

“Hey,” Link said, giving her a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Hey,” she stuttered in return.

“Hey,” Impa input with an awkward wave. Zelda laughed just as awkwardly in an attempt to snap herself out of it.

“Um, Link, this is my roommate Impa. Impa, this is Link.”

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” Impa said. Zelda resisted the urge to crawl under a rock and stay there forever.

“All good things, I hope,” Link replied with a laugh, glancing over at her. Zelda laughed again, just as awkward as the first.

“Totally. You’re welcome to join us for the festivities. There’s enough food to go around.” With that, Impa turned and continued her search for her sister. The crowd wasn’t that big, but Purah could be quite the escape artist when she wanted to be.

Zelda followed, falling into step with Link. She tried not to look at him too much. College hadn’t changed him at all, so he was just as, well.. Link as he was before. But she didn’t want the awkward and tense air to suffocate her, so she fiddled with her fingers and spoke again.

“So, um, is Hateno celebrating too?”

“Not like this. It’s more of an individual family thing,” he replied.

“It’s fascinating how everyone celebrates differently. What.. what made you decide to come up to Kakariko?”

“Well, you and your roommate invited me over and it’d just be rude to refuse.”

She made the mistake of looking over at him, and he smiled at her again. Zelda fought back her own smile and stuck her hands into her pockets.

“How’s.. life?” she asked, and tried not to visibly cringe.

“It’s okay,” Link answered with a shrug. “I see we both survived the first semester.”

“Barely,” Zelda corrected, glancing at Impa ahead of them. “If it weren’t for my roommates, I don’t think I-“

“Hold that thought, Z. Robbie incoming,” Impa warned. She hardly had time to brace herself before the eccentric genius was in front of them, and he’d dragged Purah and Cherry with him.

“Ah, there’s the rest of my entourage. What’s up, pretty ladies?” he greeted, wrestling to keep Purah under his arm.

“I thought you were supposed to be keeping him reigned in,” Impa said, setting her hands on her hips as she looked at Cherry.

“There’s no reigning in a party animal,” Robbie defended as Purah broke free of his grasp.

“Right,” Purah replied with an eyeroll. “Because a party animal passes out in our dorm at midnight after living off of energy drinks for forty-two hours.”

Robbie gave her a finger gun and clicked his tongue, and Zelda considered using this as an escape. But if she did escape, she wouldn’t have her friends to cover for her if Link decided to try talking.

“Um, these are my friends,” she told him, gesturing to the mess. “Purah, Cherry, and Robbie.”

“So this is the ex boyfriend, huh?” Purah asked as she lit up and circled him like a predator.

“That would be me, yes,” Link replied sheepishly.

“Again, I don’t know how you’re the top of your class, Z.

“Can we not insult my bad decisions?” Zelda asked with her hands on her hips.

“Not a chance,” Purah answered. “You’re just lucky the feast is about to start.”

“Thank Hylia,” Zelda muttered and followed after the chattering group.

“They seem nice,” Link said, nodding ahead of them.

“And genius,” she added. “Sometimes, next to them I feel extremely ordinary.”

“There’s nothing ordinary about you, Zel,” he replied. Zelda averted her gaze and laughed.

“Of course you would say that.”

“The truth?”

She shook her head with another smile, sticking her hands back into her pockets. In the middle of the village, a row of tables had been pushed together to form a banquet table that spanned the length of the place. Zelda took her seat besides Impa, and Link besides her, and then the feast really began.

“Have you learned any new recipes?” she asked curiously as they ate.

“Yeah, actually. I’ve started putting together a cookbook so I can always reference them.”

“Very smart. I don’t suppose you live off of microwaved noodles then.”

Link smiled and replied, “Sometimes.”

She could admit to herself, and preferably only herself, that she’d missed this. Talking to him, hanging out with him, it was part of her routine schedule and she didn’t realize that until she wasn’t texting him and calling him and meeting up for whatever silly activities they'd planned for the day.

And so far, despite how awkward she felt, it wasn’t going horribly. It could’ve been a lot worse. Like, goddesses, what would she have done if he’d appeared with another girl? Okay, no, she knew better than that. He wouldn’t do that to her. But did he have—

Why did she care oh goddesses Zelda get it together if you’re gonna spend Hylia’s Day thinking about a boy instead of having fun with your friends why did you bother coming Impa and Purah are going to tear you apart for this they will never let you live it down-

Zelda attempted to crumple those thoughts the way she’d crumpled failed outlines of research papers and tossed them into the nearest pit of fire in her brain.

The feast gave way to dancing. Tables were moved off to the sides, opening an area up for children and couples alike to do whatever they pleased. Purah and Robbie were some of the first to participate, and Zelda snorted when Impa looked away like she wasn’t aware of, or for that matter related to, one of them.

“You should join them,” Link teased, nudging her with his elbow. It was the first contact they’d made all evening. She hated that it sent her heart racing.

“Absolutely not,” she replied and crossed her arms over her chest. “Besides, I don’t dance.”

He hummed sarcastically in response, making it clear that he knew better. He’d caught her dancing in her room when she thought she was alone, he’d roped her into dancing in the kitchen at two in the morning, and he’d dragged her to prom (which she would insist until the day she died that she was not interested in).

“Maybe you should start,” Link ended up saying. “Because it looks like someone’s about to ask you.”

Zelda’s heart stopped in her chest. Was he..? But then she followed his gaze and was disappointed (disappointed??) to find the same poet boy from earlier eyeing her like he was indeed thinking about it.

She could admit it wasn’t one of her best plans of escape, but she turned to Link and bit her lip.

“Save me?” she asked, extending a hand. He eyed it for a second, leaning back against a railing with a shrug.

“I dunno. Seems like a fitting punishment for someone who lied about dancing,” he replied, mischief twinkling in his sky blue eyes.

Oh, she was not about to beg for his help. Two could play that game, and she wouldn’t be the first to cave in.

“Fine, then maybe I will dance with him. He looks nice,” she answered, dropping her hand. She didn’t know what she was hoping for, exactly. To stir up some jealousy?

But Link only shrugged again.

“Suit yourself.”

So when the young poet approached her with a nervous smile and an extended hand, she did accept, offering what she hoped was a charming smile.

She made as much conversation as possible, and she liked to think it was going well.

Until Link swept past her with Purah, shooting her a grin. She glared playfully back, and her roommate winked.

“Trade off!” she shouted, and before Zelda could realize what was happening, much less protest to it, Purah had whisked the poor poet boy away, and she was back in Link’s arms.

“So you decided to save me after all?” she asked, hoping to combat the blush on her cheeks and the butterflies in her stomach.

“Did you not want me to?” he asked as he raised an eyebrow. “I can always go back to Purah.”

“Oh, Purah can do better,” she replied with a roll of her eyes.

“C’mon, Zel, I wasn’t that bad.”

“No, but you were too perfect.”

“Glad you can admit it.”

Zelda laughed and gave him a shove, but he pulled her back against him by her hands and she didn’t fight.

“I missed you,” she said, without a thought for what she was saying.

“Did you?” he asked. His cheeks were red, but his smile told her he already knew. “What are you gonna do about it then, sunshine?”

Well, maybe Purah was right about her being the top of her class, because she was about to do something real stupid. He was smiling at her with that stupid smile, and he was holding her like nothing ever happened, and goddesses, she missed him.

She cupped his face in her hands and pulled him into a long craved kiss, and she pretended she couldn’t hear Robbie whooping in the background.

“There’s my Zel,” Link said once they parted, leaning his forehead against hers.

“You didn’t have to wait for me,” she pointed out, brushing her fingers through his hair.

“I didn’t want anyone else,” he replied simply, then pressed a kiss to her nose.

“Is this my Hylia’s Day gift?” she asked with a laugh.

“Yep. Me, in all my glory. If it’s what you want.”

“I do.”

“Thank Hylia, now we can stop hearing about it,” said a voice that did not belong. Zelda whipped around to face Purah with wide eyes.

“Ooh, exposed,” Link sang, hugging her waist like he couldn’t get enough of her.

“Happy Hylia’s Day, you’re very much welcome,” Purah replied with a bow. Zelda contemplated throwing something at her.

“You are my least favorite roommate,” Zelda complained.

“Yeah, yeah, you can thank me on your wedding day.”

She buried her face in her hands as Purah skipped off, and Link’s laughter filled her ears.

Yeah, maybe one day she would thank her. But for now, she owed someone an apology.

“I’m sorry for.. you know,” she mumbled, turning back to face Link.

“Don’t apologize for needing time to figure stuff out,” he replied as he set a hand on her cheek, running his thumb over her cheekbone.

“Well, I figured out one thing,” she said.

“And what’s that?”

“That I don’t really want to be without you. Is that dumb?”

“Not at all.”

Link pulled her into another kiss and she hugged him close, deciding that this was probably one of the best Hylia’s Day celebrations she’d been to in a while. The goddess must’ve been smiling upon her today specifically, and she didn’t mind at all.

#zelink #botw zelink #modern au #christmas prompt #zelink prompts #link calling zelda sunshine is just #it hits me right in the heart #forever his nickname for her in my work

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dr-charlie-eppes · 4 years ago

Text

SHOOTING MY SHOT - A RedFinch College AU

HAPPY HOLIDAYS, @kathreestars. I was your Secret Santa as part of the @newsies-secretsanta gift exchange.

I really hope you love your gift. It is a RedFinch College AU, as per your request. I have never written either of these things, so I hope it’s good and in character (but no promises :D!) It turned out WAY longer than expected, too :P. Oopsie daisies!

The story begins below the cut, and I will also include a link to when I have cross-posted AO3 (sometime in January).

Please enjoy!

“Shooting My Shot” - A RedFinch College AU

0000

It was the night before Albert moved out of his childhood home and went to college. He was nervous and excited and rushing through packing his boxes. Sure, he should have done this earlier, but that didn’t matter now. Folding his last sweatshirt into a box, his mind wandered.

Tomorrow was the first day of a new chapter of his life. He was about to move to New York City to study paediatrics, starting his career as a children’s nurse. It was what he’d wanted for years; he was more than happy it was coming true. All the same, he was full of nervous energy. The next few days held so many unknowns. He was struggling to wrap his head around what was going to happen next.

A small mountain of pristine cardboard boxes, a visual representation of what mattered enough to bring with him, lay before him. Each was adorned with a great many strips of duct tape to keep them shut. He hadn’t labelled any of them since he would just unpack them the second he arrived, and he only had to open them to know what was inside. It seemed like a waste of time to go digging through his things to find a Sharpie to deface the boxes.

His phone dinged twice is quick succession. One was from Jack, letting him know he was on his way over from next door. They were travelling to college together in the morning, seeing as they had made it into the same school. The second was from Race, wishing him luck.

Race had been Albert’s best friend since kindergarten. They hadn’t spent more than about three days apart since they met, living in each other’s back pockets and practically joined at the hip for as long as anyone could remember. They had planned on going to the same school, rooming together through college. However, Race had been accepted last minute to his dream school in Brooklyn and was leaving Albert, following his passion for dance. Albert wasn’t mad, not at all; in fact, he was thrilled for his friend. Brooklyn wasn’t that far, so he was sure they’d see each other often. However, without Race, he wasn’t sure who he’d be rooming with.

Continuing to pack his boxes, Albert’s mind wandered to his roommate situation. He was, admittedly, nervous. Without Race, he would be rooming with an unknown student. By the time he’d worked that out, the deadline had passed to submit a request to be paired with someone specific; He would be added to the lottery to be paired up at random with his new roommate. He was worried about that: sharing his space with a whole stranger, stuck together in close quarters, learning to get along. What if he was paired with someone disrespectful, or homophobic, or creepy, or just plain annoying? Albert knew he could be hard to get along with, tending to mistime jokes and miss queues, rubbing people the wrong way. He could sabotage their relationship without even knowing. And even if he didn’t, that didn’t guarantee it’d be smooth sailing. They might not get along, but what could they do? They’d be stuck together for at least two semesters. Dorm rooms were sometimes roomy, but not enough to avoid each other.

The anxiety wasn’t productive: Albert knew that. He couldn’t help it. Change was hard; he didn’t feel ready.

And Jack Kelly was not helping matters. Sure, Jack was one of his best friends - basically a brother, really - but he was an ass. He would do anything to embarrass or inconvenience Albert. That was in part due to their prank war, which had started in ninth grade when Jack replaced his gym shorts with a purple tutu and was still going strong on their first day of college. Of course, he’d never miss an opportunity to get Albert back. Nothing was sacred, no object or situation safe from Jack’s interference. All things considered, Albert should have seen this coming.

Jack offered to help him carry them to the car; there were a few, and it was already late, so Albert accepted. That was his first mistake. Jack took one look at them and started goading him.

“You should label your boxes, Al.” He said as he picked them up.

“No.”

Then, on the landing, “How are you gonna know what’s in ‘em? It’ll be a pain to unpack.”

“I know what I packed, Jack.”

“They look naked without labels.” He whined as they walked out the front door.

“Shut up.”

They started to load them into the car, slotting them in the trunk with the lightest ones on top.

“What kind of psychopath just puts their stuff in a box and closes it up?” Jack questioned with an edge of challenge.

Albert rolled his eyes, taking a medium sized box - possibly containing his desk lamp - and stacking it on top of the others.

“This ain’t a pass-the-parcel, Al, you’re allowed to know what’s in the box.”

“If you don’t shut up, Jackie, so help me, you’ll be trying to run without kneecaps.”

The seemingly endless prods and pokes continued as they loaded all his unlabelled boxes into the car. Jack continued his stream of nonsense, his arguments devolving into snipes and jabs. Albert shut the trunk forcefully, fixing Jack with a look.

“I ain’t labelling ‘em,” he stated with finality, “I know what I packed, and I’ll just unpack when I get there. If they ain’t labelled, Ma can reuse the boxes for something else later without having to scratch the writing out. It’s just easier.”

Jack gave him an unconvinced look but shrugged and let it go. Al should’ve known that was suspicious. Jack never could back down from an argument. Why would this one have been any different?

His second mistake was leaving the car unlocked. They lived in a good area; there wasn’t any reason to lock it. Besides, who would want to steal a bunch of blank boxes full of sweatshirts and towels? However, this turned out to be his downfall. The lock was the only barrier between Jack and his boxes, the last defence. Without needing to steal Al’s mom’s keys, there was nothing standing in his way. He was free to wreak havoc on his things.

His third mistake was not checking his boxes in the morning. They were in a hurry to get on the road - which was not unusual - so Al planned ahead and double checked everything when he brought the boxes down. He knew he had everything he needed, saving time in the morning. Without those last minute checks, he had no chance of catching Jack's little prank before they arrived at the campus.

Jack hadn’t let on that anything had happened. Crammed in the back seat, surrounded by his own boxes and bags, he appeared to the world perfectly angelic. Well, as angelic as Jack Kelly could be. In truth, he was the same snarky and sarcastic man he’d always been, cracking jokes like normal. Albert had no reason to suspect a thing.

So you could imagine his shock and regret when he lifted the trunk to find his boxes, all labelled in Jack’s scratchy block letters with obscene and embarrassing labels. Roadkill - California to Texas. Grandma’s ashes - This way up! (Decorated with arrows pointing to the bottom of the box, naturally). Meditation CDs - Pokémon, Ru Paul, My Little Pony. And right on the top, the Crown Jewels of Jack Kelly’s mayhem: Dildos - Size M-XL.

It was hard to embarrass Albert - it really was. He’d spent his high school years being tormented and humiliated by Jack and had grown a tolerance for this kind of thing. Carrying a box labelled ‘dildos’ across campus was far from the worst thing he’d ever had to do. However, he did worry about what his roommate might think. If he was worried about being paired with a weirdo, others must be too. This was one of those first impressions you couldn’t take back. Joy of joys.

Undeterred, he grabbed the box and braced for impact. Making his way swiftly and unashamedly to his dorm, he ignored the stares and snickers of his peers. Look at my box of dildos, folks. Take it in. They could have guessed that this was a prank, but the surprise of it still caught most of them off guard. Albert pressed on through the crowds, rolling his eyes.

If they can’t tell that this is a joke, then they ain’t smart enough for college.

He just hoped his roommate could see the humour in it.

Speaking of his roommate, he rounded the final corner with his package. The door was slightly ajar, and he could see shadows moving under the door. Taking one final, bracing breath, Albert shuffled the box onto his forearm and pushed the door, embracing his fate.

A trick of timing, the universe’s cruel joke, caused Albert to enter the doorway at the precise moment that his new roommate fired a sticky dart from his Nerf gun. The dart shot through the air. It travelled with a great deal more speed than it should, zipping through the room. No doubt it would have continued into the hall had the doorway been empty. However, it was stopped by Albert’s moving box, adhering at the dead centre of the “O” in dildos.

All movement and sound stopped as Albert looked eyes with his new roommate.

What a first impression.

0000

Moments earlier, Finch had been alone in his dorm. The last few weeks had been a blur of emotions, and he was trying to wrap his mind around it before his new roommate arrived. His first impressions were often lacking, and he hoped that he could start out this relationship on the right foot.

His decision to come to this school had been rushed. Life had spiralled out of control, leaving bad blood between him and his folks. He got an offer to move here to Manhattan, far from them, and he jumped on it. His new life was stretched out in front of him. King of his own destiny, he surveyed his territory. And sure, a cramped college dorm room that he had to share with a stranger wasn’t much of a kingdom. But the hum of the radiator sounded like freedom, and the carpet was soft. He could learn to be happy here.

He was already unpacked, all three of his boxes piled up in the corner. In his hand, he held six plastic Nerf targets. He’d bought them at the dollar store in the ninth grade, using sharpshooting as an escape from life. Since then, his skills had grown, and he frequently moved them around to give himself more of a challenge. Mapping the room, he weighed his options. He was, of course, limited to his side of the room, which made it harder to place them in a way that would challenge him. Still, he was resourceful. And maybe his new friend - he really hoped they would get along - might let him spread them around a bit.

There was one classic place, though. In all the time he’d had these targets, one place stayed constant. He went and hung the first bullseye at the dead centre of the door on the inside. He could hit it with his eyes closed, in his sleep, or with his hands tied behind his back, but he didn’t care. The target on the door had been the most stable relationship he’d had in years, always there, always within reach.

He dumped the rest of the targets on his bed, liberating his Nerf gun from his backpack. It had been his first, and it was the favourite of his whole collection. Modelled like a sawed-off shotgun, it was easy to aim and familiar. He’d carried it with him everywhere since he’d gotten it. This little green and orange eyesore was practically an extra limb, an extension of Finch himself. He’d gotten more high-power guns since, ones that could throw darts faster than he could blink, but he loved this one the best.

Loading in a sticky dart, he aimed for the door and pulled the trigger.

In a statistically remarkable series of events, someone pushed the door open at the precise moment he pulled the trigger. They got in the path of the dart, the new target of the shot. Thankfully, the person was carrying a box - otherwise, they would have been hit square in the chest; not exactly a great first impression. The dart, however, sailed gracefully through the room and stuck to the stranger’s box with a satisfying sticking noise. It lined up perfectly with the writing on the box, centred in the middle of one of the letters. If he’d been aiming for it, Finch would have been impressed with his shot. As it stood, he wasn’t sure how to respond.

Bullseye, I guess.

0000

Both men stood, frozen in time. All the sound had been sucked from the room, leaving only a thick silence. Neither was sure what to do to break it. Albert wanted speak - he really did. Wanted to laugh, introduce himself, settle in. However, his mouth was dry, and any words died before they could reach his throat, all systems at a standstill. He couldn’t even walk through the door for fear he would break the spell.

Why? Well, the man in front of him - his new roommate, the one holding the Nerf gun - was insanely hot.

He looked like a Renaissance painting. Classically beautiful, without being plain. A long thin face that reminded Albert distantly of a horse, smooth angles that caught the light and held it. Bright pearlescent teeth and unnaturally brown eyes. He looked as if he had stolen the light from the sun, soaking in its warmth and making it his own. All his brightness and sharpness was contrasted with his soft, green sweatshirt and bare feet, the picture of domesticity. All of it was at odds with the keenness of his shot, the Nerf gun still aimed dangerously at Albert’s chest. Nonetheless, every inch of him was beautiful.

Of all the things he’d been afraid of, falling in love with his roommate was the least expected.

He was suddenly a lot more worried about his first impression.

0000

He needn’t have worried: because on the opposite side of the dorm, the same things were going through Finch’s head.

Finch had always been a sucker for a redhead; the man in front of him, with his strikingly fiery curls, was no exception. Every line of his face was beautiful - from the creases around his eyes to his goofy grin. His eyes were a sweet brown, like Nutella or hot cocoa, deep and inviting. They caught the light like a Pokémon trainer catches them all. His lips were pulling slowly out of a grin into a shocked gape. Even in his confusion, he was breathtaking. His arms cradled his moving box like Cupid cradles his bow - invitingly and full of undiscovered love. His legs were obviously strong, judging by the way his jeans were stretched over them.

Finch couldn’t move or breathe or look away. He needed to lower his Nerf gun, introduce himself and explain, something, anything. Instead, he stood, transfixed and in awe. If this man were the moon, then Finch were the tides - unable to move without his say-so. His every thought was directed by this beautiful stranger.

His new roommate.

His roommate.

His.

That snapped him out of it.

0000

The beautiful stranger cleared this throat.

“Sorry!”

“Nice shot,” whispered Albert.

The stranger smiled, brushing the back of his neck. He spoke again.

“Uh, hi?”

Albert nodded. That was exactly what he’d been trying to say.

“Hi.”

A moments more of silence settled around them. Neither was entirely sure how to come back from that introduction, and both were too transfixed by the other to risk saying the wrong thing.

Albert eventually found his courage. Shuffling his moving box onto one arm, he extended his hand in greeting.

“I’m Albert.”

Tossing his Nerf gun to his bed, the stranger followed suit.

“Patrick, but the guys back home called me Finch.”

“Why 'Finch'?” Albert asked.

“I put a bird in the principal’s office 'cause he was homophobic,” the boy - Finch - shrugged, “It’s my greatest achievement to date.”

Albert didn’t know if he could fall more in love than he was already. His heart felt like it might explode. This adorable, Nerf-gun shooting, homophobe-hating man was all he could think about. He was distantly aware that he needed to bring his stuff in from the car, needed to put down the dildo box and unpack, but he was happy just standing in the doorway watching Finch.

However, his standing was misinterpreted by his new crush, who suddenly smacked his forehead and stepped to the side.

“Oh, sorry, I’m totally blocking the way. Come in.” He swept his hands to the side like a waiter, ushering Albert in.

He took his chance, stepping in and putting his box on the empty bunk. It tipped merrily onto one side, revealing another of Jack’s secret messages. Albert flopped his head back with a groan. Finch caught sight of the new scribble as well. He couldn’t help but chuckle.

Albert excused himself to get the rest of his boxes from the car, but also so he could get some fresh air. Finch was beautiful and badass. He was unlike any other guy Albert had met. If he blew his chance with him, well, he’d never forgive himself. He might be getting ahead of himself, but he kept wondering what Finch might look like in a tux and what song their first dance would be to. His mom had always called him a hopeless romantic, so had Jack. He was inclined to agree. He loved the idea of falling in love and marrying his favourite person ever, having a husband to share life’s moments with. And yeah, he’d only known Finch for ten minutes, but every fibre of his being seemed to think this guy was the perfect candidate.

He daydreamed all the way back to the dorm, trying to think of something charming to say to Finch. A pickup line? Or maybe some poetry. Where was Jack when you needed him? That man could charm the pants off of anyone. Although, from memory, he and Davey met when Jack accidentally tipped his paint water out over the art room balcony and all over Davey’s head.

As he stepped through the door of his dorm, he took a breath and prepared to ask Finch out. However, his new roommate was already speaking, pointing at the box on his bed.

“Okay, I gotta ask-“

“-It’s not dildos, I swear,” Albert cut him off.

“-who defaced your box?”

“Oh.” Wasn’t expecting that. “Um, Jack. Pain in my ass.”

Finch nodded, snickering, and gestured the box in Albert’s arms. This one read TIME MACHINE - DISASSEMBLED.

“So is he ya boyfriend or something?”

“Oh, fuck no.” Albert laughed - imagine him dating Jack, yuck - and clarified, “He’s sorta my brother? Lived next door to me and my Ma. He’s just up the hall now, helping Davey unpack.”

“Davey?”

“Jack’s boyfriend,” Albert shrugged. He wondered what Davey saw in Jack but decided not to think too hard. Davey was a least twice as smart as Albert would ever be; he would have his reasons. He expressed this to Finch, who laughed and offered a similar anecdote about a friend called Spot who was dating some extroverted Manhattan twink with a sarcastic streak a mile wide.

“They’re perfect for each other because no one can understand them,” Finch smiled, “the peanut butter and jelly of people.”

They continued to laugh and talk about their friends, bonding over their weird friends with weirder names.

Albert ducked out for more boxes. He moved every crass title from his car to his dorm, unpacking them as he went to discover their real contents. Finch offered the help him carry them back to his mom’s car when they were empty.

On the way, he asked about Jack’s prank again.

“So, Jack’s a prankster?”

Albert nodded, “Yeah, we’ve had a prank war going since the ninth grade.”

“War, huh?” Finch raised an eyebrow. “How you’re gonna get him back?”

“No idea yet, but it’s gonna be big.”

Finch was sure that it would be. He told Albert as such.

“Let me know if you’ll be wanting help,” he smiled, playfully elbowing his ribs, “I’m a sharpshooter, after all.”

Albert wasn’t sure how that would come in handy, but he filed it away for later use.

0000

In their first week together, they circled around each other, teasing and testing. It was an easy tension of learning each other’s habits and personalities.

As it turned out, Finch was a troublemaker. With his keen eye and trained aimed, he and his Nerf gun could wreak all kinds of havoc. Albert found himself stuck with more darts than he’d ever seen. He learned to listen for the quiet ‘snick’ sound of the gun being loaded, hyper aware of the bright orange darts as they landed around him.

Finch used his talents for good, sometimes, shooting bananas off the hand with a carefully modified ‘knife dart’ - which turned out to be a Nerf dart with a straightened out paper clip in it. He could also switch the lights off from his bunk with one flick of the trigger. Both were pretty cool tricks, but Al found himself loving Finch’s cheeky moves more.

He had returned to the dorm after class to find that Finch had used his posters as target practice, using strategically placed darts to block out certain letters and leave crude messages for him. The next day, he was greeted with a flurry of darts as he entered the room, Finch raining down on him with his most quick-firing gun. He also left Albert notes on the dorm door, where anyone could read them - thanks for letting me borrow your toothbrush! and Adam from the butt-lift place called - they can fix your pancake butt! and Where’s the haemorrhoid cream?

Albert loved it. In return, he reset Finch’s ringtones to weird and embarrassing sounds and short-sheeted his bed. He also stole Finch’s hats and sweatshirts, basically combining their wardrobes into one mega-wardrobe. He also replaced all of Finch’s stationery with sticks of gum, which turned out to be less of a prank and more of a genius ice-breaking hack.

They grew closer. All the pranks led to them getting to know each other’s likes and dislikes, their insecurities and routines. The more Albert learnt, the more he wanted to know. Finch was becoming his best friend. The crush he was nursing grew into a warm and unexplainable thing. Each passing day brought new moments of friendship and growth. Finch challenged him, distracted him, entertained him. He was bright and annoying, glued to his hip like a loyal puppy and floating around him. Albert grew to love his company, loved how he would ask questions while you studied - that was more helpful than he could have known, helping Albert to identify the gaps in his knowledge. Finch was the puzzle piece he had been missing.

Finch felt the same, although Albert didn’t know that. He loved the way that Albert would respond to his cheek and snark with jibes of his own. Albert enjoyed his pranks and put thought and time into retaliating. He was quieter than Finch, happy to just share the room with you without needing conversation to fill the void. He seemed to light up when Finch asked him questions, explaining the complex medical topics he was learning. He was full of adrenaline and grace, not often static. Finch found himself following Albert’s movements when he paced, drawn in. Albert was his muse. He couldn’t get enough of the beautiful redhead.

0000

At the opening of their second week, Albert returned to their dorm with a twinkle in his eye and a bagel in his hand. Finch, with Nerf gun in hand, shot a dart into the hole of the bagel.

“You!” Pointed Albert.

“Me?” Questioned Finch playfully.

“How would you like to help me get back at Jack?”

Finch nodded, “I’m in. What’s the play?”

As it turned out, Jack had planned a secret date for Davey. They hadn’t had a lot of time since coming to college, so Jack wanted to do something nice. He’d told Albert that he and Davey were going to have a picnic on the sports fields in the evening. Super romantic, at least it was supposed to be.

“I want to crash their party,” explained Albert, “but I need your help.”

He then explained that they needed a way to get in and out fast. If they lingered, Jack’s wrath would rain down upon them. Speed is of the element, Finchy, Albert had said. Luckily, Albert had become sort-of friends with one of the security guards. This guard, Denton, agreed to ‘accidentally’ leave the keys in one of the school’s golf carts for their use. As long as they returned it in one piece, no one would be the wiser.

“Where do I come in, Al?”

“I want you to get your best Nerf gun -one o’ those ones that shoot really fast. While I'm driving, I want you to spray ‘em with darts. I got some toilet paper to throw. I just didn’t think that was enough. Plus, you’ve got a wicked sense of aim. I could use a little help.”

It was a solid plan. Like Jack’s box prank, it wouldn’t hurt anyone. Albert assured him Davey would think it was funny too. He was almost as much a part of the war as Jack or Albert. If anything, he'd take it as an invitation to get his own revenge. No one’s day’s gonna be ruined.

“I’m your guy,” smiled Finch, “when do we start.”

“We ride at six. Wear something stealthy.”

0000

Six o'clock rolled around quickly. Finch had ducked out to the dollar store, picking up some more sticky darts. When he returned, he found Albert. His crazy roommate was dressed like a cartoon cat-burglar, complete with a black turtleneck and war paint. He was hastily stuffing toilet rolls into his backpack. They were armed to the teeth with Nerf darts, toilet paper, and biodegradable party confetti.

“Looking good, Al,” laughed Finch.

He was also dressed for the occasion, a mismatched all-black ensemble. He even opted for some fingerless gloves he saw at the store. He had never been one to half-ass a prank. Besides, going all out might impress Albert.

“Ready?”

“Born ready, Finch.”

“Funny, I thought you were born ‘Albert.’”

A roll of toilet paper hit him in the head.

0000

The plan was in motion.

Denton had left the cart parked by the dormitories. They were set to go, just waiting for confirmation that Jack was in position. Sure enough, Davey posted a sappy picture on his Snapchat story, toting Jack’s merits as a caring boyfriend. They were clearly on the sports field, spread out on an honest-to-goodness checked rug, picnic basket and all. The sunset painted pastel lines behind them.

As the light of sunset faded to night, they started up the cart. Crammed in with the ammo and a truly gigantic nerf gun, Albert and Finch were pressed into each other’s sides. Unbeknownst to them, both were enjoying the contact, pining for more than just the necessary contact of the cart. They drove at agonisingly slow speeds towards the sports fields, staying in the cover of the shadows of the campus. If they were caught, it would all be over. Luckily, the pair thrived on adrenaline.

Their trip to the sports fields was short and silent. Albert couldn’t help but hold his breath as if the sound of it might give their location away. It didn’t occur to him that the sounds of the cart would get them caught before his breathing would. Finch kept directing him with hand signals, guiding the cart through a maze of secret tunnels that kept them hidden.

Eventually, the great secrecy of it all got the better of them. Albert could picture them, both dressed like the bad guys in a cartoon spy movie, zooming through the campus with reckless abandon. They weren’t going fast at all - he thought it might not even bruise if he fell out of the cart. But here they were, leaning and ducking with each move as if they were in a Fast and Furious movie. Finch was holding onto the roof to stabilise himself. They were surrounded be a hoard of completely harmless weapons, yet they acted as if they were heading into a war. That last thought, along with the image of what they must look like, cause Albert to giggle.

Once.

Twice.

A snort.

Then Finch started.

Their silent voyage was overrun with laughter. Finch was shaking, trying to contain his sounds. Albert was hiccuping out barks of laughter. The noise grew until it drowned out the hum of engines. Try as they might, there was no stopping it. Tears filled Albert’s eyes. Finch took hold of the wheel and directed the cart as he snorted. They continued on, the most joyful caravan in the country. They couldn’t stop their noise until they saw the sports fields.

It was a bracing and sobering experience. Two weeks of thinking and planning had led them to this. The importance of their mission overcame their joy. They pulled their adrenaline back in, the noise level dropping below the noise of the cart. It was time.

The light from the fake tea light candles on the rug guided them. A moment of quiet and a few hand gestures revealed that there would be no way to sneak up on them. The cart was too big, the moon too bright. The element of surprise would be lost too quickly if they approached cautiously. Albert made the motion for ‘step on it’, pressing his palm out in front of him. Finch nodded. Mouthing the words, Albert counted down from three. He threw the golf cart into gear, shredding across the lawn at max speed.

The pickup in speed caused them both to shout. Any semblance of sneaking in was abandoned as Albert and Finch began a deafening war cry of whooping and cheering. They bounced across the field, the cart shaking with effort. One hand on the wheel, Albert loaded himself with a roll of toilet paper. Finch aimed his Nerf scope, fixed on the happy couple.

Jack caught sight of them too late.

“ALBERT!”

A shower of Nerf darts cut off his cries. Albert hit him square in the chest with a roll of paper. Davey, shocked and excited, burst out gleefully at the shower of multicoloured confetti, picking up handfuls and tossing them at his boyfriend.

The drive-by took only a few seconds. There was chaos as they unloaded all they had at Albert’s friends. It would long be remembered as the highlight of the whole prank war. The picnic rug, previously set out romantically with breadsticks and candles, was now littered with darts and rolls of paper and a sprinkling of reflective paper strips. It was glorious. Strangely, it looked like the leftover mess from a child’s birthday party. In Albert’s eyes, this was perfect revenge.

“That’s for the boxes, Kelly!” He screamed as they sped off.

The cart barrelled across the fields and out of sight, leaving Jack and Davey in its wake. The boys, happy with their successful mission, tore off into the night in fits of giggles once more. They didn’t stop until they were well out of sight. Only when they had pulled the cart to a stop outside the security office did they finally calm down.

Pressed close and sweating awfully, they breathed through the rush of adrenaline. The whole evening had come to a crescendo. They both smiled, calming down.

“That was awesome,” Albert laughed, “Thank you, Finchy.”

Finch slung an arm around him, “Always, Al.”

They stayed intertwined for a second. Albert liked the feel of being so close to Finch, tucked into his chest safe and warm. He didn’t want to pull away, but he was becoming more aware of how close they were. This was closer than friends. He was sure Finch knew that.

Pulling back, he looked to his roommate.

“Finch?”

“Hmm?”

He took a deep breath. It was now or never. He was going to say something.

“Would ya like it if we-“

He was cut off by Finch’s lips on his.

Oh, yeah, let’s do that.

His brain went offline, surprised by the kiss. Finch’s lips were dry from the cold night air but soft and cool against his own. He could feel the flush of Finch’s cheeks. He gasped through his noise - a noise of shock and approval.

Finch pulled back as he tried to reciprocate. He looked him cautiously in the eyes.

“I sure hope I didn’t read that wrong.”

Albert chuckled. He pulled him in by the shirt, nearly tipping Finch out of the cart with his enthusiasm. This kiss was perfect. Longer and deeper than the other, they were chest to chest by the end. They weren’t yet used to this motion, so their chins and noses bumped as they moved, prompting little giggles between their lips. It was the happiest kiss Albert had ever had. Finch was warm and close and all his for a few moments.

Finch bit his nip with a mock growl, pulling back to smile at him. Albert looked flushed and overwhelmed. However, the smile that split his face betrayed his emotions.

“I hope that’s my last first kiss ever,” Finch whispered.

Albert looked shocked, but his smile didn’t fade.

“Okay,” he nodded.

They tumbled out of the cart a minute later. They knew that wasn’t the end of it. Finch was sure he wanted to marry Albert, but there was more to do. They needed to get to know each other more and finish college and meet each other’s families. They weren’t at the end yet, but this was a damn good place to start.

They walked back to the dorm with hands intertwined. No matter what happened next, Albert knew this was the start of a beautiful life.

0000

He was right, too. He and Finch got married six years later, after college. Never had there been a better couple, better friends, or better lovers. They had grown into the most badass and unstoppable team.

They drove away from their wedding with cans tied to the back of a golf cart.

0000

Again, happy holidays and seasons greetings, @kathreestars. Hope this is everything you hoped for. Best wishes, Corbin.

#Newsies!#newsies secret santa #for @kathreestars #gift exchange 2020 #redfinch #Albert Dasilva/Finch #college AU

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