#but i watched the pilot a few months ago and it lit up my brain like a christmas tree | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

maria-scribbles · 4 years ago

Text

glitter + crimson (let’s start a riot)//part five

summary: in the aftermath of hurricane agatha, the pogues are thrown into a mess none of them are ready to deal with. things that don’t exactly top sailor’s ‘fun things to do this summer’ list: surfing in the middle of a hurricane, getting punched in the face by a stupid kook, and stumbling upon a mystery that turns her and her friends into the damn scooby gang. when she said she wanted an exciting summer, she should’ve been more specific. 🙃

word count: 8.1k+ (it just keeps getting longer and longer 😅)

ship: jj maybank x oc (sailor flynn)

warnings n stuff: mentions of abuse/neglect/gambling addiction, child abandonment, anxiety, self-worth issues, jj being both soft af and hot for his best friend, weed usage, underage drinking, unresolved sexual tension, sailor being thirsty, swearing, guns, fighting, blood, that one trope where two characters only call each other by their nicknames/last names until they don’t because of ~reasons~ that makes me lose my shit every time (like a lot of the obx fandom, i also headcanon that jj stands for jesse james), references to the three stooges (jj=moe, pope=larry, and john b=curly and that’s a fact lmao), to all the boys i've loved before, avengers infinity war, and david attenborough, and a line heavily inspired/influenced by taylor swift's "dress" (a song that happens to be on the playlist for this series)

a/n: we’re finally entering canon territory, y’all (with a few tweaks, of course!) but i’m determined not to make this a rehash/retelling word for word of the show ‘cause that’s just no fun, so expect smaller pieces (vignettes, i guess?) of storytelling as i expand on canon with sailor and the rest of the pogues. think of it like a mixtape of sorts, but with words instead of music if that makes sense lol. this part originally covered episodes one and two but i wrote so much that i had to split it, so we're just covering most of episode one for now (i still can't even believe how much shit actually goes down in the pilot lol). i was veryyyy excited to write the kegger at the boneyard 'cause some ~juicy~ stuff happens there lol. fun fact: the title of this part is a term used by surfers to refer to getting up at the ass crack of dawn to hit the waves. as always, this is unbetaed so any mistakes are mine. enjoy!

gif credit to @jj-maybnks

~Masterlist~

part five: dawn patrol

The next morning, Hurricane Agatha hits the island with all the force of a knockout punch; the sound of rain pounding against the roof echoes impossibly loud throughout the Chateau but Sailor’s bewildered shriek is even louder.

“You’re gonna what the what?!”

John B shrugs as the stunned redhead, lounging on the couch, looks away from watching the storm and fixes him with a wide-eyed stare.

“I’m gonna surf the surge.”

“Hell yeah, bro!” JJ yells from his spot as her footrest, punching his fist in the air and she sends him an exasperated look, both at his enthusiastic encouragement of John B’s downright moronic idea and the fact that she already misses the feeling of his thumb drawing circles on her bare ankle.

“Are you two insane?”

“Possibly.” John B states, grinning when JJ follows that up with, “Absolutely.” The blond boy pushes Sailor’s legs off his lap as he stands which earns him another displeased scowl from the redhead. “Come on, Sail. Live a little.”

“Oh, I’ll live alright, but you idiots won’t,” She takes his offered hand, letting him pull her to her feet and then down the hall after John B as she continues, “because this is the dumbest idea you’ve ever had.”

“See, this is why we keep you around,” He replies, laughing when she dodges his attempt to ruffle her hair and dashes forward to beat him to the spare room. “We do something stupid, you and Kie read us the riot act. It’s tradition.”

Sailor grabs her long-sleeved rash vest -if she’s going to sit on the beach to keep an eye on these fools in the middle of a damn hurricane, at least she’ll wear something that offers a little bit of warmth- and heads to the bathroom to change. “Yeah, and then I’m there to patch you up when you inevitably hurt yourselves.”

“Can’t help that you have that healing touch.” His cheeky response floats through the closed door and she catches herself smiling -wide and just a little bit sappy- in the mirror.

After a quick detour to pick up Pope, who’s already drenched from sneaking out his window, the pogues (sans Kiara who never answered John B’s text in the group chat and, knowing her parents, was probably on hurricane lockdown) head to the beach, where the rugged gray surf hammers against the shore with unrelenting brutality. Sailor trails behind the others as they grab their boards and make a break for the water, blatantly ignoring the barriers that read ‘beach closed’ in large, impossible to miss letters. A few hundred feet down the coast, she can barely make out The Sandbar all boarded up for the storm and she thinks of her mother, wondering if she's riding it out inside or at home; either way Carmen's all alone and Sailor's stomach twists with guilt, both for letting her phone battery die so she didn't have to answer her calls and for leaving in the first place, even though it was the right thing to do for her damn sanity.

“These signs are here for a reason, guys!” She calls over the howling wind, squinting through the rain at the rough waves with her hands tapping uneasily against her thighs. Watching John B run into the ocean with reckless abandon (Pope following with a little more caution, thankfully) immediately puts her anxiety on edge so she sits down heavily on the wet sand, wrapping her arms around the knees pulled to her chest and looks up at the blond boy who stayed behind. “Aren’t you gonna join the other stooges?”

JJ shrugs at her question, glancing out toward their friends before dropping his board to the ground and taking a seat behind the trembling girl, his chest to her back. “This one can’t just leave you hanging out here all alone, lookin’ all sad and shit. It’s kind of pathetic.”

“Wow, you really know how to make a girl feel special, J.” She smirks and scoots back in the sand, lips curling into a full-fledged smile when he lifts his arms to drape them over her shoulders. As he tucks her securely against his front, the warmth of his body helps ward off the biting chill of the rain, and so does the fact that he knows her so well, that he knows this is exactly what she needs to help calm the panicking butterflies in her stomach.

He leans close, lips brushing against the shell of her ear when he whispers his next words like a secret, low and just for her even when there’s no one around to hear them. “Trust me, Sail, you ain’t seen nothing yet.”

She suddenly finds those butterflies in her stomach fluttering for a whole different reason.

The Chateau sits in complete darkness, the power having been knocked out since they returned from dropping Pope off at his house that afternoon. Sailor thinks it’s about ten at night as she lies on her back on the mattress of the sleeper sofa, listening to the wind rip through the trees outside with Binx curled up at her feet. The spare room was way too hot without a working fan, even after she braided her hair off to the side and changed into a crop top and shorts, so she and JJ had returned to the living room where it was cooler, if only by a little bit.

John B has already retreated to his room for the night; he’d been acting quieter than usual since their little adventure at the beach but between a lantern-lit dinner of semi-stale cereal and passing a joint around, she never got the chance to ask if he was okay before he made his escape. JJ lies beside her with his limbs all askew and from the slow rise and fall of his bare chest she’s 99% sure he’s out like a light until, out of the blue, he mutters into the stagnant air, “Can’t keep your eyes off me, huh?”

She blinks heavily -that weed must’ve hit her harder than she thought because she hadn’t even realized she’d been staring- when he lazily turns his head to stare back, a halcyon grin on his face and in the dark, his pupils are blown so wide she can barely see the blue of his irises. Her hand itches with a longing to sweep that one stubborn strand of hair away from his forehead but instead she blindly slides it to the left until she finds his and holds on tight; his fingers automatically lace with hers even as the space between his eyebrows furrows and the smile falls from his lips.

“Sail?”

“I don’t think my dad’s ever coming back.” The redhead’s mouth blurts before her brain can catch up, heavy words lingering like a storm cloud ready to downpour. The thought had been weighing on her heart for a while now, from when she’d first suspected it two months ago, and it feels bittersweet to finally admit it out loud, even when she hadn’t planned doing it.

Her bedmate is silent for a long time as he looks at her through the shadows and she focuses on the touch of his palm against hers instead of the awful mounting pressure behind her eyes -hadn’t she promised herself she was done crying over her dad?- until he asks quietly, “Why? I mean, good riddance 'cause he's kind of the worst, but why?"

“A feeling,” She murmurs around the sudden lump in her throat, biting the inside of her lip hard enough that she tastes the metallic tang of blood on her tongue. “He...he usually comes back after a month or two but this time it’s been almost five.” A bitter laugh escapes from her chest and she shakes her head. “I guess he finally decided he’s done dealing with my worthless ass.”

JJ’s eyes flash like lightning as he rolls over to face her, the hand not entwined with hers reaching up to cup her cheek. “Sail, shut up. Don’t you dare say that.”

“Why shouldn’t I? It’s true,” She says sharply, words acerbic and biting and full of a self-hatred that’s been poisoning her heart ever since she was old enough -eight and far, far too young- to discern the way her dad’s love for her was fickle at best, non-existent at worst. “I could’ve been a better daughter- a perfect daughter- and he might still be here and my mom wouldn't hate me. I should’ve tried harder-”

“Jesus Christ, Sailor!” He interrupts, calloused yet gentle thumb wiping away the tears she just now registers sliding down her cheeks and the shock of hearing her full name come from his mouth makes the rest of her vitriolic thoughts fly out the window. “Do you even hear yourself right now?”

The image of him blurs through the darkness in shades of black and she closes her eyes, jaw clenched in an attempt to quell the tremble of her lip as he goes on in his low, soft voice, “You should’ve tried harder to do what, huh? What could you have possibly done better?”

She’s quiet for a long time, so long that her tears run dry and all that remains is smeared salt on her skin because she doesn’t have an answer. What could she have done? That terrible thought in her mind rears it’s ugly head again, the one that tells her she’s not good enough, that everything’s her fault because she doesn’t do enough, but when she asks it what more she can do, there’s no reply. There never is.

“Hey, look at me.” She hears the rustling of sheets and feels his fingers slip from hers before they come to rest on her cheek, both hands now cradling her face; she opens her eyes to find him hovering over her and the sheer lack of distance between them makes her heart skip a beat. “You...”

“What about me?” Her voice cracks as she speaks and in a mirror of her from earlier, JJ shakes his head, causing that stubborn strand of hair to once again fall into his eyes.

“I wish you’d see yourself the way I do.”

Her breath catches in her throat. “And how do you see me?”

“Fucking amazing.” He says simply and in the dark, she can barely see the flush slowly starting to creep up his neck. “Smart, brave, and loyal as hell. A beautiful badass who doesn’t take shit from anybody. A girl who listens when someone needs to be heard.”

The redhead stares up at him with wide green eyes as he goes on and on, listing all these wonderful little things that her traitorous mind has a hard time processing, let alone believing; he really thinks about her like this? “You care so damn much,” “You’re kind but not afraid speak out,” “You’re the one I trust the most.”

Her hand slowly releases its tight grip on the sheets and slides up his bare arm, feeling the heat of his skin under her palm as she touches his face, not trusting herself to speak because she’s so afraid of saying something dumb or stupid and ruining everything ('like I always do,' her mind echoes).

“You’re my best friend, Sailor, and yeah, you’re not perfect. You drink and you smoke weed and you don’t get straight As in school but fuck, you’re real and so not worthless.” He says each word with such conviction that its impossible not to believe him, as much as her brain screams at her not to. “And I want you to know that what your parents think of you doesn't matter at all, got it?"

Without warning, she flings her arms around his neck and JJ loses his balance, falling onto her with a soft oof of surprise but Sailor doesn’t even feel the extra weight as she rests her face against his shoulder and finally finds her voice. “Thank you.”

He takes her with him when he rolls onto his side, arms wrapped tight around her waist and nose buried in her messy braid. “Just...trying to do the right thing, I guess. For once.”

She pulls back at his words, then leans forward and slowly presses her lips to his flushed cheek, just missing the corner of his mouth. She lets them linger for a beat longer than necessary before leaning back -not too far, just enough- and looking him in the eye. “Thank you, Jesse.”

He usually hates being called by his first name (she found that out pretty quickly into their friendship, “never call me Jesse” being one of the first things he ever said to her) but he just looks at her with a soft, endearing smile on his face as he leans back onto the bed, once again bringing her with him. “Promise me something, Sail?”

She glances up at him from his shoulder and meets his eyes. “Yeah?”

His fingers tuck an escaped red curl behind her ear. “Just...be you. Don’t worry about what anyone else thinks.”

She wishes it were that easy, that she could just step inside her mind and flip a switch and she could stop all those thoughts that’ve plagued her for years but it’s not. It’s gonna take time -time and a lot of patience and maybe even a miracle- but damn it, she’s gonna give it her all, not just for herself but for him and the rest of the pogues, too, the best friends she's ever had, so she nods and settles back down at his side. “I’ll try my best, J.”

“I know you will.”

"Sail, you're the best swimmer out of all of us. Think you can dive down there and check it out?"

The redhead peers over the edge of the HMS Pogue and into the water, where the murky shape of the sunken Grady-White sits thirty feet down on the bottom of the marsh, then nods at the rest of the pogues, an excited grin on her face.

"No problem," She answers John B, hopping up onto the very tip of the boat's bow with practiced ease before diving headfirst into the water to JJ's yell of "diver down!" It's dirtier than usual because of the hurricane but she doesn't let that stop her as she swims down and down until she reaches the top of the boat and pulls herself the rest of the way onto the deck, carefully scanning the area for...fuck. Honestly, she's got absolutely no clue what she's looking for but she assumes she'll know when she sees it.

'It' turns out to be a motel key, resting all alone on the floor by the steering wheel and she quickly reaches out to snatch it, sliding the silver key ring around her finger securely. When she pushes off toward the surface, she leaves the ghostly Grady-White behind with more questions than answers.

The rest of her friends are lined up in a row along the boat's railing, all staring at her with near identical expressions of anticipation as she breaks through the water and holds the key aloft with a triumphant smile.

"The Summer Winds Motel called, they want their key back!"

A little later that evening, Sailor would really regret finding that damn key but right now, she's having a great time dancing at the Boneyard with Kiara at the traditional post-hurricane kegger, second refill of beer in hand, spiked with Fireball from the flask tucked in her back pocket. To her, dancing's a lot like surfing -steady feet, swiveling hips, snapping shoulders- and she thinks that might be the reason she's so bad at it, anticipating the fluidity of water instead of the solidness of dry land. Or it could be that she just doesn't have rhythm when she's a little buzzed. That works, too.

"Ow, Sail!" Kiara winces as the redhead steps on her foot again, rolling her eyes fondly when she throws her head back with a loud, tipsy giggle.

"My bad, Kie!" She twirls in the sand, hair dancing around her shoulders like fire, and finds herself spinning right into a herd of dancing tourons, all too drunk to care that she's spilling her beer all over their feet. Large, olive-skinned hands grab her waist to spin her again and she laughs, smiling over her shoulder at a cute dark-haired touron as he slides one palm over to settle against the bare skin of her lower back. She pushes one hand on his shoulder with just enough resistance that he doesn't get too close into her personal space as he leans in to speak in a low Southern drawl, brown eyes turned a pretty bronze in the glow of the nearby bonfire.

"This probably isn't the best thing to say to a beautiful girl but you kind of dance like a giraffe."

Sailor bursts out laughing at that. "Hey, I think giraffes are very elegant creatures so I'll take that as a compliment!"

The boy grins and she smiles, too, letting him take her free hand and pull her into the throng of dancing bodies. He's almost as bad a dancer as she is but he's fun to talk to and together they gleefully show off their worst moves until their feet hurt -she's lost count of how many times she stepped on his toes- and her solo cup is empty. "Come on," She says and this time, she's the one to grab his hand and lead him over to the closest keg, where John B's dishing out beer with an expert flourish.

"'Sup, Sail," He lifts his chin in greeting as he fills her cup, smirking when she immediately pulls out her flask and adds a long pour of Fireball on top. "Who's your friend?"

"JB, this is Adam, he's visiting from Tennessee. Adam, meet John B, one of my best friends and a total moron," She makes quick introductions, smiling into her drink as he scowls and playfully sprays some beer at her feet before filling another cup and holding it out to the other boy with a jab at her expense.

"Be careful around her, man. She's a handful."

The touron accepts the drink with a shrug and a quick wink in her direction. "Good thing I happen to like 'em a little crazy."

Ugh. More than a little miffed at that, she rolls her eyes and takes a long sip of beer to hide her annoyance when Adam laughs and slings his arm around her shoulders. Calling her a giraffe was actually kind of cute in a very weird, endearing way but he instantly lost whatever points he had with her the second that 'c' word came out of his pretty mouth. She glances around the Boneyard while the boys start talking about surfing (she scoffs to herself, what does a farm kid from Tennessee know about that?), scanning the crowd for the rest of her friends and a chance to ditch him. Kiara's sitting on a big piece of driftwood, chatting up a stunning, deeply tan girl with glossy black hair -she waves when their eyes meet and shoots Sailor a cheeky grin before returning to her conversation- while the ever awkward Pope seems to be stuck in the middle of one of his rambles about autopsies as he stands around the fire, the willowy blonde beside him looking more and more uncomfortable by the second. She'd deliberately lost track of JJ a while ago, after she watched him getting a little too close to a tiny brunette, his hand low on her back as she passed him a drink and ran her fingers up his bare arm, coaxing that killer smile of his onto his face (that girl may have gotten his smile but Sailor got his eyes and they watched her until she pointedly turned away).

Honestly, she's a bit -okay, a lot- peeved. Here she is, thinking that they're the closest they've ever been before (they've always been close, ever since that day in sixth grade, but this is a whole different kind of close), and just when she feels like she may finally be ready to admit some things, some feelings, he's off doing who knows what with another girl; to be fair, she's off with another guy that she'd, until a minute ago, fully planned on kissing, but that's only because of him! Him and some weird need she has to keep him looking at her, to make him jealous -she shakes her head and takes another swig of her whiskey-spiked beer. Nope, nope, not gonna think about that.

Poor Pope looks like he's really struggling so Sailor pushes all thoughts of her blond best friend from her mind and goes to rescue him, ducking out from under Adam's sweaty arm and walking away without a backwards glance, ignoring the confusion in his voice as he calls her name. She pushes through the crowd to her friend and steps right in front of the girl he's trying to talk to, grabbing his hand with her free one.

"Come dance with me?"

The smile of pure relief that breaks out over his face makes her own widen as he lets her pull him back through the mass of bodies to a less-crowded part of the make-shift dance floor, the tension bleeding out of his hunched shoulders with every step.

"You're an angel, Sailor."

She laughs and wraps her arm around his shoulders, leading him in a carefree twirl across the cool sand. "Tell me something I don't know."

Like a leaf caught up in a whirlwind, he's helpless to resist her infectious joy as they dance, grinning like fools and poking fun at each other; for a while, the redhead tries to forget about stupid, clueless boys and focuses on Pope who, while still a clueless boy, doesn't expect anything from her but pure, unconditional friendship that she's all too willing to give (although she did have a teensy little crush on him when they first became friends, she got over it pretty fast the second he started talking about the bodily functions of dead bodies in explicit detail). She shares her drink with him, giggling at the way his face morphs from curiosity to disgust to delight at the taste of her cinnamon beer concoction and lets him down the rest while she drinks straight from the flask that she pulls from her back pocket.

"You've got a shadow." Pope says, slightly nodding his chin over her shoulder and she takes his hand again, slowly spinning herself under his arm to take a quick glance, rolling her eyes when she spots Adam staring at her from the edge of the crowd. "You know him?"

"Unfortunately. Thought he was cute, then he called me crazy." She tucks the whiskey away with a shrug at her friend's sympathetic wince, then steps closer to him and raises a conspiratorial eyebrow. "Wanna help me tell him to take a long walk off a short cliff?"

"Uh-"

"I think I can help with that," A familiar voice cuts off Pope's reply as JJ suddenly appears at her side, slipping his hand into her back pocket to spin her right into the circle of his arms before he plucks the flask from the other and takes a big sip in one smooth kinda sexy move. "Straight Fireball? Damn, Sail."

The redhead carefully schools her features into a blank mask but her body has other ideas, one hand instantly settling on his chest like it's second nature and her face flushing from more than just the alcohol as she casually replies, "You know I like things a little spicy." Completely aware of the way he's watching her every move, she snatches the whiskey back and downs the little bit that's left, trying and failing to ignore the thrill that shoots through her at those bright blue eyes of his darkening when her tongue darts out to lick her lips. Pope rolls his eyes at them both before muttering a quick 'see ya' and hastily melting back into the crowd.

"So, who're we telling to fuck off?" His voice is just a little strained and she feels her cool facade start to crack as she scowls, subtly tilts her head toward where Adam's still staring at her with an expression that looks like he ate a sour lemon. JJ spins her around to take a very conspicuous peek and her mouth curls into a grin, mask breaking completely when he shoots the touron a glare that screams 'try me, I dare you'; the heat from his hand still in her pocket burns as he leans in until his forehead rests on hers. "Let's give him a show."

Sailor hums and pretends to mull it over even as she coyly snakes her arms around his neck and pulls him closer, the harder panes of his body sliding almost sinfully against her softer curves as they sway together, "I don't know, you looked pretty cozy with that other girl earlier..." Is it kind of petty to bring it up? Yes, yes it is, but she can't resist toying with him like he did to her, just as she can't help the breathless gasp that escapes her lips when his fingers press hard into the toned flesh of her ass through her shorts.

"Why, Flynn, are you jealous?"

"Please, I saw that glare you gave him. If anyone's jealous, it's you, Maybank." She fires back while carding both hands through his hair and the pure gratification she feels at his slight shiver is nothing short of euphoric. Out of the corner of her eye, she barely takes notice of the frown Adam sends their way before he turns and stalks off toward the other side of the beach; honestly, she's so caught up in JJ and everything about him -the slow swing of his hips, the hands burning hot against the strip of her back exposed by her crop top, the darkened look in those ocean eyes- that she'd completely forgotten about the touron she danced with earlier in an effort to forget the boy she's dancing with now. She should've known it wouldn't have worked: Sailor could never forget JJ, no matter how hard she tries. He's like a permanent mark on her, a tattoo inked in gold, a beautiful, wonderous scar that she never wants to fade away.

"Seems like we scared him off so I don't have to worry about that anymore." His flushed face is so close she can feel his breath on her lips as he speaks and her eyes quickly flick down to his mouth on their own accord.

"And what about me?" She asks, twirling her fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck, heart beating fast in anticipation as he smirks wickedly at the way her own face turns cherry red.

"Sail, babe, you don't have to worry about a damn thing."

All one of them has to do is tilt their head and everything will fall into place and she can once again know what it's like to kiss him-

"Let it go, Topper!" A sudden, annoyed shout breaks the two apart before they can close that final distance (Sailor's not sure who would've made the first move and she's both relieved and disappointed they won't get to find out), turning away from each other in tandem toward the gathering mass of bodies chanting 'fight, fight!' at the shoreline.

"JB, he's not worth it!" At the sound of Kiara's voice, they take off running across the sand and shove their way to the front of the crowd just in time to see Topper Thornton in all his frat boy glory get absolutely slammed with a hard punch to the jaw, courtesy of John B. The kook barely hits the ground before he's back on his feet and lunging forward to tackle him into the water, landing a hit of his own square in the eye.

"What the hell happened?" Sailor grabs Kiara's elbow and the dark haired girl looks at her with wide eyes as the boys continue to roll around, exchanging brutal blows while a stunned Pope watches from her other side.

"I don't even know, they just started wailing on each other!"

JJ stands silent to Sailor's right, jaw clenched and hands curled into fists as he stares at the brawl and she reaches over to wrap her fingers around his wrist, thumb calmly running circles on his skin.

"Top, seriously! Stop it!" Sarah Cameron stands in the sand just before the crashing waves, yelling furiously at her boyfriend and throwing her arms in the air when he ignores her. "What is wrong with you?"

The moment Topper lands three punches in a row on John B's battered face, Sailor decides she's seen enough. She rushes forward without thinking to grab the blond boy's arm, pulling as hard as she can in an attempt to get him off her friend and barely has time to register what's happening when the fist he was aiming at John B suddenly swings at her. It connects solidly with her left cheek and makes her stumble back, her hand flying to her throbbing face before she goes down hard onto her butt in the surf.

"What the fuck, Thornton?"

"Did you just punch a girl?"

"Ohhhh shit!"

A cacophony of voices yells from the shore as the kook boy stares down at her, momentarily stunned when he realizes who exactly he hit, and it gives John B an opening to wrestle him back into the water and land a solid punch right to his nose. Everything happens so fast after that that the redhead, still reeling in a wide-eyed daze, has a little trouble keeping up. First, Kiara and Pope splash through the waves to her side, kneeling down to help her to her feet with their arms around her waist. Second, Topper gains the upper hand and straight up tries to drown John B, holding his head under the water while Sarah screams at him to stop. And third, JJ -reckless, bold, protective JJ- pulls out that damn stolen gun, effectively bringing the whole mess to a grinding halt when he stalks forward and presses the barrel to the side of Topper's head.

"Your move, broski." He threatens and the beach is so quiet everyone can hear the click of the safety being switched off. The kook slowly raises his hands in the air and John B emerges from the water, stumbling forward onto his hands and knees with a horrible wet cough.

It's all too much for Sailor's poor tipsy self to take. The world spins beneath her feet as her head starts to pound and her shaking fingers fail to find purchase on Kiara's and Pope's shoulders.

"Guys, I don't feel so good," She manages to whisper and their looks of concern (the former) and panic (the latter) are the last thing she sees before her legs give out and everything goes black.

The first thing she registers is the pain that radiates from the left side of her face, her whole head throbbing with every beat of her heart and the sound of loud whispering right by her ear isn't helping at all.

"That's the best you can do, J? Seriously?"

"The power's out! I can't exactly pull ice out of my ass, Kie."

Something semi-cold gently rests against her cheek and she audibly sighs at the little bit of relief she feels, her hand sluggishly rising to hold it a little closer as she mumbles, "I wouldn't want your ass ice anyway." At least she tries to: her mouth feels like it's full of cotton and she's pretty sure the only thing that comes out is unintelligible gibberish.

Sailor opens her eyes and finds herself lying on her back on the sleeper sofa at the Chateau, a passed out John B to her right. Pope sits on the edge of the mattress by his side, holding a beer bottle to his friend's black eye and he sends her a relieved smile when he notices she's awake.

"There she is," JJ says from her other side and she turns to face him, not at all surprised to find him already looking at her, and the unabashed concern in his eyes sends a golden warmth through her whole body. Her fingers slip down the hand that's still holding the bottle to her cheek so she can run her thumb over the delicate bones in his wrist in a silent thank you.

A different, softer hand rests on her knee and she tears her gaze away from his face to smile at Kiara as she says, "Good to see you're okay, Sail."

The redhead sinks back into the pillow in embarrassment and covers her eyes with her free hand. God, she really passed out, didn't she? She passed out after taking one lousy punch to the face by a fucking kook, no less. How completely mortifying. She swallows thickly and sounds like a chain smoker when she says, "I'm so sorry, guys. I'm a total idiot."

The other three conscious pogues start protesting all at once -apparently there's many, many, different ways to say she's not an idiot- and the resulting volume of their combined voices is enough to make her headache even worse. She sits up and scoots back until she's propped against the couch and sets the now warm beer on the side table before massaging both of her temples.

"Will you please shut up, I can feel my brain beating in my skull."

For a second, there's wonderful, blissful silence and then:

"Holy shit, thank you," A groggy voice says to her right and she turns to watch a bleary-eyed John B claw his way back to consciousness. "You guys are fucking loud."

"He lives!" JJ shouts, ignoring the four glares sent his way and reaching over to clap his hand against the brunet boy's shoulder. "Welcome back, dude."

"Ugh," He suddenly rolls onto his stomach -Pope deftly catching the bottle when it nearly falls from the bed- and his muffled voice floats out from the pillow he shoves his head under like an ostrich in the sand. "Knock me back out."

"Aww, poor baby." Sailor gives his back a sympathetic pat and chuckles softly when he blindly feels around for her arm, pushing it away with another deep groan and a 'fuck off, Sail' that lacks any type of venom.

"Okay, now that you're both kind of conscious, let's agree that neither of you will ever fucking do that again. Got it?" Kiara addresses John B and Sailor as she stands from the bed and crosses her arms, fixing the latter with a piercing look that makes her feel like a kid caught with her hand in the cookie jar; she opens her mouth to defend herself but before she can say anything, Kiara turns her furious gaze to JJ and points an accusing finger at his face. "And you! What the hell were you thinking pulling that damn gun out, huh?"

"Jesus Christ, Kie!" He suddenly rockets to his feet and throws his hands in the air. "Sail got socked in the face and JB was getting fucking drowned, I wasn't really thinking much at all!”

The dark haired girl can't seemed to think of a response to that and looks away, staring at the floor with her jaw clenched as Pope, ever the mediator, rises to his feet, too, and rounds the bed to step between them placatingly.

"Let's just drop it for tonight, okay? They need to rest." He says, nodding toward the two still on the bed before wrapping his hand around Kiara's elbow and turning her toward the front door. She immediately pulls her arm from his grasp but still nods in agreement, the hard look in her eyes softening when she glances at her injured friends.

"Yeah, okay." She says and glances down at her watch, wincing when she catches sight of the time. "My parents'll kill me if I'm not home soon, anyway."

"Come on, I'll take you guys home." JJ says with a conciliatory look in her direction as Pope tosses him the Volkswagen's keys from his pocket and when she nods back, a small smile pulling at the corner of her mouth, Sailor knows that all is forgiven, at least for now.

"Are you sure you're good to drive?" She asks and immediately rolls her eyes at his sarcastic reply of "Yes, Mom," and the obnoxious wink he shoots her.

The trio leaves after a quick round of goodbyes and John B waits until he hears the sound of his van driving away before finally emerging from under the pillow and rolling onto his back.

"Sensing the immediate danger has passed, the ostrich cautiously pulls its head out from the sand..." She says in her best David Attenborough impression, laughing when he tosses the pillow at her head with an amused grin.

"Ha ha. I was trying to avoid getting a Kie lecture," He explains, running both hands down his face with a heavy sigh. "It feels like my head's gonna explode."

"You and me both, dude." She carefully probes at her swollen cheek and is more than a little surprised to feel the beginnings of a scab forming near her eye. She knew Topper landed a solid punch but she didn't realize how solid that hit was until now as she catches sight of the tiny bit of drying blood left behind on her fingertips.

"That looks like it hurts. You okay?" John B asks and she looks up from wiping her hand clean on her shorts, stiff from dried saltwater, with a wrinkle of her freckled nose.

"I'm alright. How about you? No offense but your eye looks like shit."

"I'll live." He answers with a shrug as he pulls himself upright on the mattress and leans his head against the back of the couch. "Thanks, by the way."

"For what?"

He sluggishly turns his head to look Sailor in the eye and shrugs again. "For trying to help me out. Sorry I got you punched."

She smirks and reaches over to give his hand a brief, friendly squeeze as she replies, "It's not your fault I got myself punched. I'm sorry your ass almost drowned."

He snorts at that and she's relieved to hear it, knowing that he can still joke around and he's not, like, completely traumatized or something. Poor guy's already got enough to deal with without adding a mental breakdown to the list. She swings her legs over the edge of the mattress and slowly stands before taking a tentative step forward; when her knees hold and she doesn't fall flat on her face, she makes her way to his side and holds both hands out to him with a small, lighthearted smile.

"Yeah, you're delirious. Near death experiences do that to you." She says, helping him to his feet and, after looping his arm over her shoulders and sliding hers around his waist, the two teenagers carefully shuffle down the hall in the dim light of the emergency lantern on the kitchen table to his room, where she unceremoniously dumps him onto his bed. "Sleep it off. And for the love of God, please change. You smell terrible."

She goes to leave as he laughs again, tugging his shirt off and tossing it into the growing pile of clothes near the closet before saying, "Hey, Sailor?"

The redhead pauses with one foot in the hall and leans against the doorframe. "Yeah?"

"You know you're a badass, right?"

She laughs and sends him a wink but her heart is oh so light as she turns and heads to the spare room, calling back over her shoulder, "Nice to see someone acknowledge it. Now go to bed!"

The sound of the Chateau's front door opening and closing startles Sailor awake and she blinks heavily, wondering when exactly she'd fallen asleep. Last thing she remembers she was staring out at the fireflies through the open window as she steadily ran her hand down the length of Binx's back and their ethereal glow, combined with the breeze dancing around her shoulders, must've pulled her right under. Down the hall, she hears a loud thump, followed by JJ cursing as he runs into something and she giggles to herself, rolling onto her side to face the hall. He appears in the darkened doorway a minute later, rubbing his knee with a scowl on his face and she laughs louder at his quiet, venomous hiss of "fuck that fucking chair."

"Rude. It's not the chair's fault you always run into it." She teases and he shoots her a flat, unamused look before turning to glance down the hall toward John B's room, his fingers holding tight to the door frame.

"He's okay, you know. Told him to get some sleep." His head swings to face her when she speaks with soft words and even in the dark, she can see the way his tense shoulders slowly relax and his hand loosens, falling back to his side as he nods, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him.

"And you?" He asks, his eyes never wavering from hers as he kicks his boots off and pulls his shirt over his head; the sight of his messy hair and the muscles in his arms make it a little hard for Sailor to breathe, the gentle wind she once thought of as cool now doing nothing to help calm her flushed skin when she scoots over in bed to give him room to lie down next to her. Binx looks as disgruntled as a cat can look as he loses his comfy spot and jumps down from the bed, only to immediately leap onto the windowsill and stretch out.

"What about me?"

JJ rolls over to face her, reaching one hand up to cup her injured face and runs his calloused thumb under the cut on her cheekbone. "Are you okay?"

Nodding, she shifts closer and lays her head on his outstretched arm, covering his hand with her own and effortlessly fitting her fingers into the spaces between his. "I'm fine. Even better, now."

He leans forward to rest his forehead against hers. "Good, 'cause I don't know what I'd do if you weren't."

When those pesky butterflies come raging back with a vengeance, she realizes she's fighting a battle she hopes to lose.

The sound of a conversation in the kitchen, low voices drifting through the closed door of the guest room wakes Sailor early the next morning. Sunlight filters in through the windows and she squeezes one eye shut against the painful brightness, the other still squished into JJ's shoulder. His arm is a welcome weight slung over her hip and his deep, even breaths are soft against her forehead as he sleeps on, dead to the voices down the hall. With the corner of her mouth turned up in a small smile, she smooths his fine blond hair away from his face and runs her fingers along his jawline before carefully sliding out from under his arm and quietly heading toward the kitchen.

Pulling her hair into a messy ponytail, she rounds the corner and stops short when she catches sight of the person standing by the table, her cheerful 'good morning' getting stuck on her tongue; she was expecting Pope and Kiara, not the goddamn sheriff! Shooting John B a wide-eyed look that makes him shake his head (what the fuck did that even mean?!), the redhead forces a smile and hastily offers her a wave.

"Uh, good morning, Sheriff. Sorry to interrupt, just, uh, grabbing some water."

She just nods in acknowledgement before turning her attention back to the brunet boy and Sailor breathes an inaudible sigh of relief. Holy shit, is that woman scary. She heads to the sink and keeps one ear on the conversation as she quickly fills a glass with water and pops two aspirin, the headache from last night made even worse by the addition of a whiskey hangover.

"I didn't realize you had company, John B. Wild night?" The sheriff asks and Sailor meets her friend's eyes again, her anxiety rising when she sees his thinly veiled panic. Her back to Peterkin, she silently implores him to say something, anything -hell, she even tries to subtly mime surfing with her hands to help him out- but he stays silent, so she gathers her courage, plasters a smile on her face, and twirls to face her.

"Busy day, actually. We went surfing all day after cleaning up the yard." She says, jerking her thumb toward the heap of broken branches piled by the fire pit visible through the living room window; when the sheriff turns to look, she quickly elbows John B in the side, ignoring his huff of surprise as she nods her head in her direction.

"Yeah, surfing! All day." He blurts out, sending Sailor a lukewarm glare when she quickly mouths 'what the fuck was that?' before they both straighten up and spin back to the older woman just as she turns to face them again.

"Right." Peterkin hums and arches one eyebrow as she glances back and forth between the two teenagers. "Now tell me, how'd you both get those bruises? They look pretty painful."

"Oh, this?" Sailor asks, pointing at her cheek with a casual shrug, "I tried to hang ten and bit it pretty hard. My board caught me right in the face."

Peterkin looks at her for a beat longer than normal and the redhead does her best to keep her expression neutral as her palms start to sweat. "Surfing, really? Thought you were pretty experienced in that department."

John B adds, offering some much needed back up, "Even the pros wipe out every once in awhile, you know?" He crosses his arms and leans back against the counter. "My board got me good, too."

"Yeah, it just was not our day," She says with a nervous chuckle, refilling her water and slowly starting to back out of the kitchen, pretending she doesn't see the dismayed look her friend sends her way; her anxiety can't take another second of the sheriff's piercing gaze and she needs to get away fast, lest she start recounting every single second of their activities both legal and not so legal- from yesterday in explicit detail. "And I'm still pretty tired so I'm just gonna go back to bed for a bit. Nice talking to you, Sheriff."

After disappearing around the corner before either of them can reply, she creeps down the hallway, keeping her footfalls as light as she can, and she's so focused on trying to listen in on what Peterkin's saying that she runs smack into JJ, standing in the doorway of the spare room. His arm instantly darts out to wrap around her waist and pull her close, keeping her from falling right on her butt as he says, "There you are-"

"Shhh!" Sailor hisses quietly, covering his mouth with her hand, "The damn sheriff is here!"

He mumbles something into her palm but she she holds a finger to her lips, pushing him back into the room and softly closing the door behind them before pressing her ear against it and dropping her hand from his face. He mirrors her position with a question clear as day in his wide eyes, 'what the fuck?', arm still looped around her lower back.

"She's grilling him about yesterday," She says simply, then turns her attention back to the faint voices floating through the door. The duo listens in silence, trying and failing to discern what's being said until they hear the sound of the sheriff's boots on the front porch and her squad car tires crunching through the gravel as she drives away and they exchange a worried look. JJ had it right: what the fuck, indeed.

"Holy shit, guys," John B's voice suddenly says from the hallway. The door opens before they have time to back away and it sends them sprawling to the floor in a twisted pile of limbs; the brunet boy -who'd usually find something like that hilarious- barely reacts to their position and sends them both a tense frown, his next words dropping like a damn anchor in the marsh.

"We need to go check out that Grady-White again, and fast."

Sailor groans and lets her head fall back onto the floor with a thunk. "Here we go."

let me know what you think! fun fact: ostriches actually do put their heads in the sand, but it's not because they sense danger. female ostriches bury their eggs to keep them safe from predators and they'll occasionally stick their head into the sand to check on them and give 'em a lil turn 😊

taglist ❤: @sinkbeneathwaves @jiaraendgame @hmsjiara @maysbanks @alexa-playafricabytoto @sunflowerbecca @obxlife @obx-adventures @sexualparkour @coltonparayyko @miawantsapuppy

51 notes · View notes

softbiker · 5 years ago

Text

Bucky Barnes Oneshot

Warnings: a couple of bad words

Word Count: 3.6k

Summary: After being injured on a mission, Bucky winds up spending a day with the Avengers newest recruit. Bucky x Reader

A/N: This is my submission for @nacho-bucky ‘s writing challenge! My prompt was ‘the smell of freshly baked bread’. As a side note, I drank a whole pot of coffee yesterday and wrote this in one afternoon, so it’s also unedited :) As always, let me know what you think!

By the time the quinjet is an hour out from New York, Bucky Barnes is in an irredeemably foul mood.

Breaking up terror cells in Germany was supposed to be an easy mission - in and out, with the practiced ease of their well-oiled strike team. Really, they took the mission to spare German special forces the trouble...that, and a potential connection to an old Red Room contact of Natasha’s. With their “dream team” (Sam’s words, not Bucky’s) of Cap, Bucky, Sam, and Natasha, this should have been a light op, a scrimmage, Nerf ball.

Turns out superheroing is a contact sport, and they’ve got the bombs and broken ribs to prove it. A train station, a decoy, and an explosive device Natasha failed to disarm. With Sam coordinating civilian evacuation, there had only been a couple dozen injuries, but the suspect had slipped away, leaving them bruised and empty-handed.

Bucky had taken a brutal hit as he pulled Nat to safety, and now he is curled in his seat on the jet, metal hand holding his ribcage. He watches Steve scowl in the cockpit, jaw unflinchingly tight as he goes over the mission in his head. The captain doesn’t know how to let things go - never has, never will. Sam is actually piloting the quinjet, making unreturned small talk about a basketball game he went to last weekend. Natasha sits across from Bucky, a Stark tablet in her hands, dissecting bomb schematics and diagrams of diffusion techniques. There’s a little scab of dried blood on her bottom lip that she pokes at with her tongue, red brows lowered in concentration.

Bucky is exhausted - his hair smells like dust and smoke, his mouth is tangy and dry. There’s dried sweat underneath his uniform and he itches and his feet are hot in his boots and his ribs really fucking hurt. He lets his head fall back against the seat, and wishes they were home already.

**********

She pops her head up over the back of the couch when she hears them. What a sight they make: Bucky, propped up on Steve’s shoulder, Natasha dust-covered and buried in her tablet, Sam still sweaty and tugging at the harness on his suit. She still smiles, tentative but kind.

“Hi guys.” She lifts her fingers in a little wave. “Everyone okay?”

Bucky grunts in response; Natasha says nothing, making a beeline for her room and a shower. Sam, without doubt the most talkative person on the team, props himself on a stool and blows a harsh breath past his lips.

“We’re alright, yeah,” he sighed. “Barnes is a little beat up but he’ll get over it - he’s just dramatic.”

“Fuck you, too, Wilson.” Bucky flips Sam off over his shoulder as they hobble towards the elevators.

She winces, not yet used to their harsh banter.

“Hey man, be nice in front of the rookie, alright?” Sam hollers, mock-offended. “You’re creating a hostile work environment!”

Steve chuckles a little at that, jostling Bucky’s tender ribs, which makes him scowl at his best friend.

“Bucky is a hostile work environment,” Steve deadpans. They’ve reached the elevator, and shuffle inside, turning to face the common room. Bucky catches the rookie’s eyes as she giggles behind her hand.

“She’s fine,” he rolls his eyes, sparing a wink for the rookie. “When I make it hostile, bird brain, you’ll know.”

The elevator doors close, and he leans on Steve a little heavier, and jabs his elbow into Steve’s stomach.

“Thanks a lot for that, by the way,” he huffs.

“What?” Steve feigns innocence, and very poorly. “Didn’t know you were so worried about making a good impression on the rookie.”

“I’m - I’m not.”

“Uh huh.”

“Shut up.”

They meet Dr. Banner in the medical wing where his lab adjoins the clinic; Sam had messaged him half an hour ago that they were inbound with a broken supersoldier, and Bruce had taken the liberty of setting up some of his supplies. Of all the doctors on staff, Bucky favored Dr. Banner - he was mild and soft-spoken enough to not trigger Bucky’s anxiety, in spite of the needles and IV drips and the snapping of latex gloves.

An X-ray and some bandages later, Bucky is removed from the active duty list for two weeks.

“Even with your advanced healing factor, I wanna be careful with this,” Bruce says, taking off his glasses to scratch the side of his nose. “I mean, your medical history is a little blurry, to say the least - and with all the shit HYDRA pulled, who knows what kind of stress your bones have been through before.” He taps away on his tablet, notifying FRIDAY and the admin system to remove Bucky from the roster. “In the meantime, take it easy - no missions, no training, no lifting weights. Probably avoid the motorcycle, too. I’ll check on them again in two weeks, and we’ll go from there.”

Steve is nodding - he never leaves Bucky by himself in medical - and crosses his arms. Neither of them have changed out of their uniforms yet, and in this sterile observation room, Bucky can finally smell the layers of grime and sweat clinging to them. His nose wrinkles when he gets a little whiff of himself, feeling bad for the nurse who bandaged his ribs.

“Oh I almost forgot -” Bruce turns around and reaches for something on his lab bench. A little blue bottle, full of round white pills. “Here. I developed these for the two of you - since you metabolize normal painkillers so quickly, I figured we might need something that would work in the event you sustain heavy injuries which…well, seemed likely. Take 2 every 4 hours, okay?”

His metal fingers grip the little bottle, rattling the tablets inside.

“Sure thing, doc.”

**********

She lifts the hem of her shirt, wiping at the sweat on her forehead, and leans against the wall of the gym. Her breath comes in short pants as her chest heaves, trying to cool down from her last bout with Agent Romanoff.

“Heads up.”

Her hands barely make it up in time to catch the flying water bottle headed for her face.

“Good catch,” Romanoff smirks a little. She’s sweating, too, but in a way that’s decidedly more sexy, little red curls hanging by her face. She looks fresh from a Pilates class, not a suicide workout - the rookie can feel the heat of her own face, the sweat drenching her clothes, and knows she’s not nearly as glowing as her trainer.

“You did really good today,” Romanoff continues. She keeps saying to call her “Natasha” but that is so hard to do with a woman so intimidating her alias is one of the world’s deadliest animals. “Really good. You’ve shown tons of improvement since we started. I’m going to recommend we start letting you shadow on missions in a couple more weeks.”

“Wow, really?” Her face lit up in spite of her exhaustion.

“Sure.” Natasha smiles. “I know it’s gotten a little boring, having you go through all of this.”

“Boring” was an understatement. Despite having a few years of experience under her belt - well, according to Tony Stark, vigilantism barely counts as “experience” - the rookie was assigned to a training program for her first couple of months on the team.

“Too much of a risk to put you in the field right away,” Stark had rattled off, handing her forms to sign and an official t-shirt (‘Look Mom! I’m an Avenger!’) and a tablet with a map of the compound. “Legal says we can avoid liability issues with a training program before we gradually phase you in, and I’m inclined to agree, so! Welcome to the team, but not officially!”

Her days consisted of early morning workouts, followed by combat and tactical training with Black Widow herself, and then...well, not much. There was research, of course, and she stayed on top of the intelligence briefings with the rest of the team. She went to meetings and official dinners and unofficial karaoke nights, but the rest of her time was mostly her own. Frankly, she was chomping at the bit to get back out there, in the action. Helping people.

“Well, hopefully it’ll pay off,” she sighs, giving Agent Romanoff an exhausted smile. “I wouldn’t want to be the weak link on the team.”

“You won’t be, believe me,” Natasha shakes her head. With a glance at her watch, she picks up her own water bottle and heads for the door. “Now I’ve gotta run, Skype meeting with Fury in 5. I’ll see you later, Rookie!”

**********

Bucky Barnes was feeling good.

Like, damn good.

Like, ‘Banner should label his controlled substances’ good.

Thing is, post-HYDRA and post-fugitive and post-cognitive reconstruction therapy, Bucky was more mentally okay than he had been in decades. He had the occasional rough day, and he definitely wasn’t perfect by any means, but with the shrinks that Stark had on retainer, he was getting better at dealing with it all. His physical health, however, was more of a moving target. In spite of receiving a bastardized supersoldier serum, he had been pumped full of so much other shit and gone through so much physical stress that his body had fundamentally shifted equilibrium. Multiple appointments with Dr. Cho and Shuri revealed that his chronic pain may never fully heal - if it did, it would be a very gradual process. Normal painkillers in reasonable doses did nothing for him, so Bucky settled in to his discomfort, carrying it the way he carried his knives and his scars - always.

24 hours into his medical leave, a few doses of pills down, and he couldn’t feel a single ounce of pain in his body - he shifted his awareness to each part of himself, like that guided meditation thing Wanda did sometimes, and he couldn’t find the pain, not even lurking behind the muscle and metal. He might be a little miffed at being off the active duty roster, but if his whole vacation is going to feel like this? Well, he doesn’t mind to let Steve handle the next threat to world peace.

With his schedule suddenly wide open, Bucky wonders what he’ll do with his day. He can’t remember the last time he truly had nothing to do - it’s an exciting prospect. So he lets himself ease through his morning, sleeping in, long hot shower, slipping on those plush Black Widow pajama pants Nat gave him as a gag gift. He knows everyone else will have had their breakfast and moved on to morning briefings and training drills by now, and he wanders down to the kitchen in the hopes that they’ve left him some coffee.

He sees her there, perched on a stool at the island and frowning at the tablet in her hand. There’s a little scrunch to her nose when she does that, he notices.

“Good morning,” he says softly, trying and failing not to startle her.

“Oh, hey Bucky,” she smiles, watches him round the island to the coffee pot on the counter. “I didn’t see you there.”

“S’okay. I’m quiet.”

“You didn’t get tapped for the recovery mission? They’re going after your suspect from Berlin again, I think.”

“Oh, I’m off missions for two weeks.” He turns, giant ‘Don’t forget to be awesome’ mug gripped in his metal hand. “Banner’s orders. You didn’t hear about my smashed ribs?”

“Oh no, I guess not - are you okay?” Suddenly she’s concerned, and a little sheepish. “Sorry, I’m still a little out of the loop I guess.”

He feels guilty for that - she’s eager, bright, kind, a brilliant recruit. But it can take a while before you’re ‘in’ with the team. Not because they exclude her, but, well - a group made up of outsiders has a hard time adding new faces to the mix.

“Don’t apologize. Not your fault.” Bucky digs around in a jar on the counter for a few sugar packets, dumping them into his mug. “Anyways, I’m off the roster for now. Gotta figure out something to do with myself, I guess.”

Her smile is slow, ducked under pretty lashes - he really needs to stop noticing these things.

“Would you - I mean, you can hang out with me if you want?” She chews on her lip. “I’m done for today - my training with Natasha ended early and they didn’t need me in on the briefing so…”

The rookie was lonely - he could see that, anyone could. The fact is, between their own training and missions, it had been a little hard for the team to spend very much time with her. Bucky himself was often a bit of a loner in his free time, preferring to hole up in his room with books and movies rather than go out for drinks or another karaoke night. And yet, he found himself feeling eager at the thought of spending a relaxing day with the new recruit, getting to know her a little, hearing that funny little laugh through her nose.

“Sounds great, Rookie - what did ya have in mind?”

**********

“Okay, I just wanna go on the record and say I called it. I called it!” She’s grinning. “I knew you would love this.”

“Well, hey, in my defense, I’ve never hated beautiful women.”

She just rolls her eyes, kicks her feet out to rest on the coffee table in front of them. There’s a pile of DVD’s, all hers, laying across the surface, picked through and ranked in order of what was most important for Bucky to see. His film education was obviously lacking, considering he missed out on 70 years of movies, and didn’t even know what he liked anymore, so he was content to let her pick. After raiding the kitchen for an array of snacks, they settled in, opposite ends of the same couch with a bowl of popcorn and dark chocolate M&M’s between them.

Approximately 20 minutes into the movie, Steve appears, just passing through for an apple from the fridge. He stops in his tracks behind the couch, the crunch of the fruit in his mouth just above their heads.

“What is this?” he says around his mouthful. If his Ma could see him now, Bucky thinks.

“It’s called ‘How to Marry a Millionaire’ - came out in 1953,” she answers, smiling over her shoulder at him. “It’s one of my favorites honestly.”

“That’s - that’s Lauren Bacall!” Steve perks up, smacking Bucky’s shoulder.

“Yeah, punk,” Bucky rolls his eyes. “Betty Grable’s in it, too.”

“No shit!” Steve is grinning now, and he gives the rookie a conspiratorial look. “Y’know, Bucky used to have her pin-up poster. The one in the white bathing suit? Had it in his suitcase when he shipped out.”

“Oh, really?” She’s looking at him now, eyes sparkling at the rosy blush climbing up Bucky’s cheeks. “Betty Grable, huh?”

He clears his throat. “Well, everybody had that picture, I mean...it’s famous for a reason. All the boys had ‘em.”

“No, no, I get that,” she shrugs. “I just had you pegged as more the Rita Hayworth type, that’s all.”

It takes him back for a second, Steve too, that she knows these starlets, that they could’ve been having this same conversation 75 years ago. He can see that look in Steve’s eyes, sly and knowing as they slide towards him. Bucky works his mouth, tries to control his smile.

“Well, nothing wrong with her either,” he drawls, spreading his arms along the back of the couch. “But did you see Grable’s legs?”

“I just thought you might’ve had a thing for redheads!” she laughs.

“They’re alright, I guess - now Dugan on the other hand…”

Neither of them notices Steve leave the room, tossing the apple in his hand and a huge dopey grin on his face.

**********

“Tell me again what the recipe says?”

“One cup of pumpkin puree.”

“Oh - shit, I thought you said one can.”

She smacks her forehead. “No wonder the batter is so goopy!” She rolls her eyes playfully. “You’re trying to ruin my bread, Barnes.”

“I swear I’m not, doll - it was an accident.”

“Okay, new plan - we just make a double batch since the can has two cups in it.”

She shuffles around behind him, grabbing her flour and sugar and sour cream and other ingredients, hands flurrying to measure and fix the dough. It’s mid-afternoon now, a couple of movies down, and they (she) decided they needed to get in the fall spirit by baking a ridiculous amount of...breads. The banana bread is already in the oven, the pumpkin will be on its way as soon as she fixes his mistake, and a blueberry bread (made from muffin mix) is next on the list.

“But...what’s so special about making it into breads?” He had asked, causing her to look at him like an idiot.

“Ask me that again after you try them, Bucky.”

So he shut up and cracked eggs and sifted flour, stirring when her arm got tired. He was already regretting his words now that the smell of the banana bread was drifting towards him from the ovens, and he had to admit the pumpkin and cinnamon from her bowl was making his stomach growl. With all the bowls and measuring cups laying around, they were making enough sweet breads to feed an army, but hey - the Avengers are practically a small army of their own. And besides, Bucky intends on taking an entire loaf - baker’s privilege.

He decides that he likes watching her work, bouncing around the kitchen, some oldies playlist on the speakers, her tongue poking out between her lips. She’s got her sweater sleeves pushed up over her elbows - he had to help with that, after she got dough on them. This song is good, too, and he wants to ask her who wrote it-

“Are you gonna stand there staring at me, or are you gonna help?” she quips over her shoulder. He has no idea when he last smiled so much.

“You’re the boss, Rookie.”

**********

She’s got her feet in his lap now, and they haven’t said a word in an hour, and Bucky doesn’t even remember taking his last dose or two of his pain pills but he doesn’t feel a goddamn thing.

There’s a huge book in her lap, Stephen King - a favorite, he’s learned.

“I read at least one of his books every year in October,” she tells him. “You know, to get ready for spooky season.”

“Spooky season? What the hell is that?”

“You know, Halloween time!” she smacks his arm. “It’s Halloween first, Buck, you gotta get in the spirit.”

“I’m -” he sputters, face drawn in the most adorably confused look. “Halloween first?”

She hands him a book of his own and now here they are - he’s 20 pages into The Shining, but he’s stopped paying attention because she’s yawning behind her book and her eyes are fluttering shut, and it shouldn’t be as distracting as it is.

He forces his eyes down to his own page, to Jack Torrance and haunted hotels, but they’re drawn back up when her book finally drops the rest of the way to her lap. Her head slumps sideways onto the back of the couch, mouth open just a little. He draws the blanket down around her feet and tucks it in a little tighter, but other than that, doesn’t move a muscle. He’s just fine right here, thank you.

He’s sinking in again, driving up the twisting mountain road to the Overlook, when his phone buzzes in his pocket. Carefully - in the way highly trained superspies can be careful - he lifts his hips up and pulls his phone from his pocket, managing not to dislodge her feet or wake her up. She merely sighs in her sleep, nuzzling her face into the couch pillow. A text notification from team group message lights up the screen.

It’s Natasha. A photo, a photo which she somehow managed to take without him knowing, of him and the rookie, practically snuggling on the couch and reading together. Her legs are propped over his lap, and Bucky’s eyes are staring straight at her over the top of his book. Nat has captioned the photo: “looks like Barnes found a good nurse.”

He snorts a little. Natalia. Glances up at her, still sleeping, and tilts his phone upwards a few degrees and snaps a picture to send back.

“She sleeps on the job” he types, thumbs still slow on the phone keyboard. Instantly, his phone starts buzzing with more texts from the team, but he mutes it and lays his phone on the coffee table. He doesn’t feel like talking now. Well, talking to them.

“Hey...Rookie,” he whispers, reaching out and shaking her shoulder a little. She hums in her sleep, but makes no other move.

“Rookie, I gotta ask you something.” He wiggles her leg a little, shaking her feet in his lap, and whispers her name. He’s rewarded with her eyes fluttering open, her mouth drawn down in a pout at being woken up.

“Whatisit,” she sighs, still slumped into the cushions. He clears his throat. Here goes nothing.

“So, there’s a charity gala for the Stark Foundation coming up next weekend,” he starts bravely. “And - and the whole team is going anyway, so I know you’re gonna be there, but - well, maybe you would consider going...with me?” Courage runs out, and his brain backpedals. “I mean, just as a friend?”

She huffs. “I can’t believe you woke me up for that.”

“Oh.” He looks down, hair falling in his eyes. “So...you don’t want to go with me?”

“Of course I’ll go with you, Barnes,” she sighs. “Now shush. I was napping”

His face hurts from the stretch in his cheeks when he smiles. He’s gonna give Bruce those pain meds back.

#nachobuckychallenge #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader fic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes imagine #marvel #marvel fic

995 notes · View notes

vegetacide · 5 years ago

Text

Whump●tober - Embracing Recovery

Veg-notables: Well it was a month in coming but i have finally drawn this whole thing to a close. It’s been quite the trip and the learning experience to boot. Somehow it all wrapped up in a nice tidy package encompassing several story lines into one world completely by accident by there you have it. Something just happen that way.

Many thanks to all those that jumped on this month long whump ride with me and many, many thanks to @gumnut-logic for putting up with me none stop pretty much for the whole duration. Your guidance and support has been very, very much appreciated.. And the mountain loads of candied ammo that was lobbed in my direction. I think I might have a cavity now…

Obligatory whumptober stuff: @whumptober2019 @la-vie-en-whump

Blanket warning: Revelations, hurt, comfort and a resolution of sorts.

Characters: Virgil, Scott, with a dash of Kayo, Gordon and Alan. V/K

Whumptober - TaG’verse

Part 1 Unconscious | Part 2 Shaky Hands | Part 3 Stitches | Part 4 “Don’t move”

30. Recovery & 31. Embrace

Enjoy…

oOo

The moment Virgil stepped foot into the lounge he could feel Scott’s eyes on him and he resisted the urge to roll his own.

“I’m fine, Scott.” He said on reflex as he crossed the space on his way to the stairs. He needed coffee stat and nothing was going to distract him from his goal.

Scott came around the desk, eyes narrowing on Virgil’s face as he headed towards him.

Virgil was well aware of what he looked like and how he felt, thank you very much. He was fresh from a shower, clean shaven and feeling for the first time in a while, well rested. The fact he required coffee to function on any given morning was nothing new and something that decidedly didn’t warranted the frown that was brewing on his brother’s face.

“You’re squinting.”

Now he did roll his eyes and he didn’t care if Scott saw it or not. Turning he trotted down the stairs, Scott hot on his heels.

“Scott, I’m okay. Stop worrying.” Virgil b-lined it for the coffee pot, one though in mind. Most obtain caffeine…

His brother’s hand landed on his shoulder, preventing him from reaching his target just feet from his destination.

“This is really getting a bit much, Scott.” He grumbled and cursed at himself internally for not taking the elevator all the way down the kitchen. Why oh why had he thought that stopping at the lounge on the way was a good idea? Hind sight and all that jazz was bullshit.

“Are you sure?” His brother’s voice sounded worried.

“Yes, it’s just the usual aftermath. Nothing new there, I am always a bit light sensitive for a few days after a migraine, you know this.” Virgil slipped out from under his brother’s grasp, stepped past him and snagged his favourite mug out of the cupboard.

“Any double vision? Blurriness?” Came the expected rapid fire questions as he stalked after him to the coffee pot.

Virgil sighed and didn’t answer right away and concentrated on pouring the aromatic brew. Let his brother stew for a moment, served him right for the mother hen and interrogation routine.

After their lovely discussion the previous morning, Virgil had retreated to his room again, only venturing out around sunset in order to obtain some much needed sustenance and to watch Kayo do her ninja thing on the pool deck.

Thankfully he’d managed to avoid Scott as he had been called away from the island and he’d only had to deal with his very perceptive Grandmother.

That had been an interesting exchange and not one he wished to repeat any time soon. He needed time to wrap his head around things, sort out his emotions and if that meant doing everything in his power to be on the opposite side of the island from everyone else.. So be it.

Except there was his very real need for coffee and due to that vice he had risked the trip down from his room. It was apparently evident that Lady Luck was so not in his corner this fine morning.

Satisfied that his cup had reached its maximum capacity, he lifted it to his lips and took his first sip of the day.

Scolding, hot and deliciously rich, the flavour flowed over his taste buds and sung the song of the caffeine addicted. A thrum of ecstasy fired up his neurons and the pleasure centre of his brain lit up like a Christmas tree. Oh sweet Baby Jeebus, he bit back on the joyful moan as his need was finally sated.

Then his brother’s tapping foot finally registered.

Drawing in a breathe to anchor is growing antipathy, he finally graced his overly anxious sibling with an answer. “No double vision or blurriness. Like I said, I’m fine. Let it go, Scott.”

His brother’s arms crossed over his chest, eyes still inspecting. Searching for any sign of deceit in his answer.

The trust they shared had been rocked and Virgil was well aware that this was the price of his actions. Something he was going to have to learn to deal with but right now… there was coffee..

Sipping away quietly for a few minutes, he let his brother continue staring at him, assessing the minutia of his movements and facial expression with a bored air of one well used to an over protective big brother filling in the very large shoes of their Father.

His patience lasted a lot longer than he thought it would.

“You look tired still, you get enough sleep? “

That did it, patience quota reached. Completely maxed out.

“Jesus… Scott. Stop it. I’m fine.” Putting his mug down with a little more force than he intended he marked off points on his fingers. “I have slept, done pretty much nothing but since I crashed out in Two. I have eaten enough food to satiate a small army. I am more hydrated than even the Fish right now and that is saying something considering he basically lives in the pool. There is no pain and my vision is fine. “

His brother looked like he was about to say something but Virgil put up a hand to stop him.

“No.” He sighed, hands on his hips as his head dropped down. Closing his eyes, he counted to ten to reign in his ire.

“Look, Scott…” He started, stalled out. Gave his doubt the middle finger and plowed on. “Globalmax was over a year ago and you can stop hovering now, I’m not going to break. Sure I get the odd migraine but that’s it. Pack it in, let it go

Scott’s face shifted, darkened. Eyes narrowed, he poked a finger into Virgil’s face. “That’s rich coming from you.”

“What…?” Confused all to hell at the change in his brother, Virgil’s brow furrowed.

“Kind of the pot calling the kettle black isn’t it?”

“I have no idea what you are talking about.”

“Bullshit,” Scott’s temper flared and it had Virgil adjusting his stance to square off against the gale force that had surged into the kitchen. “You telling me to let it go when you can’t do the same. You act like I haven’t clued into what you’ve been doing the last few weeks ever since I put Gordon back on active duty.”

Virgil’s face blanched, his defenses suddenly evaporating in the face of Scott’s accusation and he stood dumbfounded.

“I…”

“You what?” Scott stepped up to him, all righteous anger and indignation but Virgil didn’t know how to respond. Caught off guard by his brother’s fury and being found out so easily, words completely abandoned him.

Scott seemed to catch himself and forced himself to step off, to back up. Temper radiated out of him in waves but he clamped his control down hard on it and closed off as he reeled himself in.

“Ya, just like I thought. You can preach to me about letting things go but I sent you in to that plant. I was the one that put you in harm’s way and we came damn close to losing you. Almost did had it not been for a fleet of stubborn ass doctors set on keeping your heart going.”

His voice hitched at the end and he had to put some physical distance between them, long legs taking him across the kitchen around the table and back again.

He paced a few more steps and stopped, the counter between them. “Just like you did sending Gordon in after Braman at the Calypso crash site.

The words hung like a stinking carcass in the air and Virgil’s chest heaved, breathing in the hot, foul stench of it.

Pulse kicking he tried to come up with excuses, tried to think around what Scott had tossed to callously in front of him but he couldn’t see a way around it. There was no avoiding it when it was strung up with flashing lights right in front of your face like some damn garish marquee sign at a theatre.

“You..you don’t understand.”

"Try it, make me understand.” Scott’s voice grew soft though his posture still screamed unrestrained agitation.

Virgil drew in a breath, thought a moment, blew back out again as his mind tossed out and rejected several responses. Finally he settled on one. “He’s my co-pilot.” As if that should be answer enough.

Like those three words could explain the whole of it. That Gordon was more than a passenger along for a ride in Two. He was his partner on missions, his back up when he was unable to take the controls himself, his goofy baby brother, his responsibility…

Virgil had been well aware of the dangers out here, all those feet below the ocean surface under all that atmospheric pressure of millions and millions of gallons of water but he’d still let him go. Even with the nagging feeling in the back of his head that something didn’t feel right but they were International Rescue so they did what their Father’s legacy dictated.

Even if just for a machine, an automaton that had been broadcasting on all their frequencies for hours on end. He let his baby brother go, and he’d nearly ended up dead.

Left to die at the bottom of the ocean, crushed beneath a mountain of a crumbled volcanic stack like his life meant nothing. Like he was just an irritant that needed to be swatted away and was done so carelessly and with such disregard for everything their family stood for. Everything they had spent the better part of their adult lives striving to achieve.

Hovering above the ocean waiting for some news, seeing the broken body sprawled unmoving across a med-bay gurney had torn a hole through Virgil that he hadn’t been able to fill in all the time since. An aching pit of guilt and despair that he had thought he could handle, hide away in some dark corner of his mind.

It had only grown and festered, like an untreated wound. Kept him up at night with visions of alternate outcomes. Of vaguely remember funerals, caskets draped in white flowers and the somber words.

Kayo had clicked into the fact that something was wrong months ago maybe Scott had too. The concerned etched on his face now mirrored her own every time he looked at her but he hadn’t been able to bring himself to burden them with this. So to throw Kayo off the trail he’d tossed something else at her feet. Hoping that it would be enough to waylay her.

The message from Bramen about their Father being alive. He hadn’t lied to her about his feelings but he hadn’t supplied her with the whole of it. The omission hadn’t been easy and the guilt of that had compounded all the rest, but he had stood firm in visage even though he was crumbling just like that stack on the inside.

As for Scott, he’d just closed himself off. Withdrawn and buried himself in work and good intentions

The stim-tabs had come in handy and as he looked down at his trembling hand he knew, he’d gone way too far with it. All Scott had to do was look back through all of Two’s records to see how far he’d fallen.

Scott had a right to be concerned and Kayo had a right to her tears.

Clenching his fist, he forced himself to answer no matter how painful it was. “He should never have been down there on his own. I should have gone with him.”

“So you could do what exactly?” Scott moved, settled on a stool at the counter, in for the long haul if that was what it was going to take. “Gordon knows what he’s doing better than any of us. He was WASP. He has more qualification for underwater rescue than all of us combined. He is always aware of the dangers every time he heads out there but he accepts it.

Scoot looked to the counter, his fingers playing through the cooling puddle of coffee left there by Virgil’s careless handling. “You can’t stop him from going out there, Virg... “ His words stopped short as the sounds of voices and stomping feet came thundering down the stairs.

Inane chatter about some video game or another bounced around the lofty ceiling and abruptly came to a halt when the aquanaut in question came up short at the end of the flight, Alan nearly running into the back of him.

“The fuck, Gordon? Why’d you sto….?” Alan’s inquiry drifted off as he took in the open air kitchen and instantly picked up on the heaviness that clogged the space.

“What’s up?” Gordon asked as two pair of serious eyes turned his way. One carrying more worry and guilt then it appeared Gordon cared for and the other, frustration at whatever was going on being interrupted. His own gaze darted back and forth between his older siblings with some trepidation. “Who died?”

Virgil turned away, walked over to the large, open patio and leaned his bulk against the thick clear blast door where it nested by its stationary counterpart.

Scott sighed, and Virgil pictured him standing with his hands braced on his hips and his head shaking back and forth is annoyance"Gordon.."

"What?"He asked completely oblivious to what his words had invoked.

Virgil listened to the exchange behind him with only half an ear and watched the play of light across the rippling water of the pool.

Gordon's oblivion question had been more poignant they he knew his brother had meant. It had struck the chord of the conversation and the image of his still, unresponsive body in Two echoed through his mind with a clarity that made Virgil shudder.

It was early in the day still so the oppressive heat this time of year usually drummed up hadn't yet settled over the island yet.

There was a breeze whispering through the fronds of the palms and rustling the long strands of ornamental grasses that boarded the patio in quaint little arrangements that Virgil knew his Father had installed as homage to the woman who so loved to garden when they were little.

The cadence of the conversation behind changed and his pushed his focus back inside to the room as Gordon's voice rose.

"Oh well..it looks like the adults are talking so we better run off and play like good little boys."

"Gordon,. That's not what I meant.".

"Than what did you mean?" He demanded facing off with Scott glare for glare.

When Scott failed to answer, the currently land bound human-fish bristled and turned his sights on Virgil.

Virgil��s mouth gaped a moment as he floundered but he didn't get a chance to respond as Kayo appeared at his elbow, her hand resting a moment on the base of his spine in a gesture of support before she slipped around him and over to Gordon.

Her voice was pitched in such a way that they could all hear her words. "I just got word that Lady P in inbound. Should be here soon."

Gordon’s attention was instantaneously redirected. “Penny’s coming here?”

Kay nodded, “About ten minutes out. Sad something about a reef project she is working on.”

“Ya, she mentioned that to me last week. I didn’t think they would move so fast on it..”

The distraction work and in short order Gordon was back up the stairs and out of the room.

Alan remained behind, gaze ping ponging between all those gathered in the familiar space. A little lost as to what to do and where to go now that Gordon was off chasing after her Ladyship. “Sooooooo…?” He ventured.

Kayo took pity on him, grabbed a bag of oatmeal cookies from the pantry and gave the pair of them a look, her eyes lingering on Virgil as she turned and walked back over to Alan. “Hey, why don’t you show me that new Zombie game you’ve been going on about?”

Alan blinked, shifted awkwardly on his feet as he absorbed the rising tension in the room again and was unsure what to do about it. It was obvious from his pinched expression that he was well aware that things were far from alright between his two biggest brothers.

“Everything okay?” He asked instead as Kayo came up to him.

She glanced back at Virgil as if she was interested in the answer to the question as well.

Virgil’s large chest expanded on an inhalation before he took the reins. “It’s cool, Alan. Don’t worry about it.”

Alan didn’t look convinced and neither did Kayo but she nodded in return.

There would be words later, Virgil knew but for now she would back off and leave them to sort themselves out.

“If you say so…” And the pair of them disappeared up the stairs.

The kitchen grew quiet with their absence, the only sound that of the wind through the palms and a few wild birds that called the island home.

“Listen,” Scott was the first to break the stillness and Virgil peered back over his shoulder so Scott knew he was doing just that. “All I am saying is that I understand where you are coming from. I’ve been there. Am there, every day. Every time a call comes in and I have to send one of you out there to do the impossible because it seems like no one else can, I’m right there where you are now. I have to live with that. Remind myself that not only did I pick this life but you all did too. You know the risks, just trust that they know the risks too and remember that you are not alone.

He came up to Virgil bumped his shoulder against his companionably. “And if things ever get too hard, too much there are those on this island that are more than willing to help and if not here,” His head inclined towards the ocean, towards the world at large, “There are plenty of people out there that owe us a few things and would jump at the chance to return the favour.“

Virgil absorbed what was being offered and finally for the first time in days, months really the weight on his shoulders lifted.

He chuckled slightly as a thought came to mind and just like that the tension was gone, the animosity and outrage and all the negative crap that went along with it up and left.

“What?” Scott asked a quizzical look popping his brow up in confusion,

“How in the hell do you put up with all of this? All of us?”

Scott grinned back, the devil in his smile. “Dad’s private stash of Scotch… lots of Scotch.”

The sun was shifting outside as it made its way across the sky and a spear of light bounced off the pool which made Virgil blink, that fact that nothing speared into his brain with the flash of light didn’t go unnoticed by him. Time took care of all things and it seemed the worst of everything had come to pass.

The band-aid holding everything back had been torn off, the wound free to breathe and hopefully to heal now that all those party to it existence had lanced it of the festering poison that was rotting away at its core.

The disinfectant that family supplied, was to be applied liberally and eventually all that would be left was a fading scar and life would go on.

His smile widened and grew broader as the future finally started to look brighter and he slung an arm over Scott’s shoulder, pulling him in for an unexpected hug which his brother reciprocated wholeheartedly.

“It might be early but somewhere in the world it’s not. Let’s go find that scotch.”

oOo

The End.

The Master List of prompts can be found HERE

#whumptober2019 #whumptober #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds 2015 #thunderbirds fanfiction #thunderbirds fanfic #no.30 #no.31 #Recovery #Embrace #Virgil Tracy #Scott Tracy #Kayo Kyrano #Gordon Tracy #Alan Tracy #virgil/kayo #the end is here #on to #fluffember

19 notes · View notes

vee-angel · 5 years ago

Text

Talynn’s Edge (part 1, repost)

The following story is an erotic fanfic based on “Sonnie’s Edge,” the 17 minute short film featured as an episode in the Netflix show Love, Death + Robots. It’s not *completely* necessary to have watched it to enjoy this story, but it’d definitely enhance your understanding. A lot of things about this story are a departure from how I normally write, but all in all, I think it turned out well.

Content warnings: Beastly violence, beast on human sex, beast on beast necrophilia, foot fetishism, references to rape and mental illness, vanilla sex (which was literally the hardest part to write, not even kidding), and an American desperately trying to write with British syntax and idioms (If you’re a British person, feel welcome to let me know if I got anything just incredibly wrong).

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

(Part 1)

The new beastie-baiting arenas weren’t the scooped out, jury-rigged shitholes they’d been a year ago. Right around when Khanivore and I cleared our second dozen consecutive win was about when people were saying the sport was set to go legitimate any day now. Still hadn’t happened, but by the size of the audiences, it seemed like things were going that direction quick.

This place had been set up like the old boxing rings, except the ring was actually ring shaped, and dropped to a pit instead of platforming up. Big displays on the walls cycled through beastie-baiting champions; pilot in the foreground with the newest beastie behind them. The losses were greyed out in the way-back, didn’t want to bring too much attention to dead beasties.

I went tense when I saw my picture pixelate in under the “Sonnie’s Predators” logo. Fucking photochoppers had done a bang up job of making me look the way they supposed I ought to. Scars were smoothed out, but not completely, thank god. My tits weren’t that round, and the screen showed some stupid flirty smirk in place of my resting ‘fuck off’ face. I pulled my hood further up. Last thing I need is some Baiter-groupie figuring out I was here.

Nothing technically wrong with a Baiter checking the competition, but I’m not the type for making a spectacle of it. It’s why I had the rest of my team sit this one out.

There was a new Beastie-baiter giving the people their fill of spectacle and blood-sport. Talynn, her name was. A woman, first one since me. Figured it wouldn’t be long until popular demand put the two of us in a ring together, so might as well get a look at her first. I’d heard she was an American, and acted like the wankbait that promoters had always wanted me to be. Also heard she’d spent a few years as a medical examiner, chopping up corpses to see how they’d died. Bitch liked the cameras, always talking about she had expertise on how bodies break down, come apart. Said other baiters only knows how they get put together. After half a dozen consecutive wins and no losses, people were starting to take her serious.

The main lights started to come down and the pit-lights came on. Bright enough in the center to see the spectacle, with the special lights that luminesed the UV reactive ink everybody got on their skins nowadays.

Announcer appeared in the middle making a big show of how we’d all be witness to a show of hedonistic bloodlust the likes of which nobody’d ever seen. Did a decent job of getting the crowd all riled up and cheering. He introduced the Yank, first. Lascivious twat had named her team “Talynn’s Gash.”

She walked out alone, confident with this psychotic babydoll grin that men seem to find alluring for some fucking reason. She wore this skin-tight red bodysuit that looked like slicked-up rubber. She walked right up the the very edge of the pit and squatted down like she was some kind of bird perched there. Her hair was dyed purple and formed into a row of short spikes on top. The sides were buzzed to less than a centimeter with swirly lines shaved down to skin.

Her beastie was introduced a moment later. Talynn’s Gash ran a creature called “Hellcat.” People said she and her beastie had an unnatural connection that goes beyond the affinity link. That she treated Hellcat like some kind of pet. Some even suggested that she did… indecent things with her beastie. Fucking idiots make up rumors about things when they don’t know shit. I’ve never put much stock in gossip.

Hellcat waddled out awkwardly on two thick, stubby legs, looking like something that wasn’t meant to walk upright. Beastie’s were required to be able to walk on two legs, but nothing required them to stay upright once the fight started. It dropped down into a quadrupedal position that looked more natural for it. All in all, it was shaped something like a prehistoric hyena, short coal-black fur with a few crimson stripes going up her legs. Massive jaw-muscles rippling into a stout, colossal neck. Thick limbs terminating in raptorial talons, like an eagle with a few extra fingers and thumbs. But the real eye-catch were the spines. From brow to hips, the back and sides of the beastie was adorned with thousands of long, barbed porcupine needles.

Hellcat went statue still for a moment while Talynn perched at the precipice of the pit looking pleased with herself, then suddenly the creature burst into a cheetah-sprint across the pit. It took a leap out over the edge and sped up the walkway while the spectators jumped back screeching. Creature looked like it was running out of space when stout legs launched it up the wall, it began ascending quickly, scratching deep gouges in the fresh-painted wood. The speed demon barely slowed down ‘til it hit the ceiling. Hellcat jumped with scary explosive velocity spinning and flipping to land with a dense thud back in the center of the pit. God-damn it was fast. Fastest thing on legs I’d ever seen.

By the sound of cheers, the audience got a thrill out of it. Still… reckless to put her beastie so close to the ground. And god-damned disrespectful to fuck up the nice new arena walls.

Other team got introduced with typical fanfare. I wasn’t much worried about them. Gone up against them a few months back; second-rate, nothing special. They were fighting something looked mostly like a minotaur with bone-armor rhinoceros skin. Few thick spikes jutted from the knuckle plates. Minogore, they named it. Beastie looked like it might have cleared three and a half meters, as opposed to Hellcat who was only a bit past two.

With introductions done, it was finally time for bloodsport. Fight lights had barely lit when Hellcat rocketed across the pit and snatched a big, bloody crescent out of Minogore’s shin with its beartrap jaws. Fight went on like that a bit, Hellcat dodging lumbering attacks while taking some chomps out whenever it could. It stayed crouched low to the ground, no way to hit without going through the jagged porcupine needles on her back. Minogore got some glancing blows, but his arms were getting hairy with jagged quills.

Minogore was slowing down on account of the chunks of muscle and bone gnawed off his legs. Hellcat was getting more bold. It dodged another fist smash and bounded up his tree-trunk torso like a squirrel. Latched onto his back and started eating through his shoulder. He ran clumsy toward the edge of the pit to try to smash her against the walls, but she hopped off half a second before he hit. Damage had been done, wet bits of blood and splintered bone dripped from Hellcat’s diamond-hard teeth. Minogore’s right arm hung ragdoll.

Their pilot didn’t give up easy, I’ll give ‘em that. He stumbled back in as Hellcat just stalked around him, lupine-like. His one good arm all pulled up and ready. It feinted like it was going in for the kill, but Minogore didn’t take the bait. Did it a second time, getting closer now; that’s when the beastie’s great big fist crashed down on its back. For a split second I thought the fight was turning until I saw those shiny black spines bending towards the fist, barbs hooking in and sticking against it like they were magnetic. Before he could pull back, Hellcat sprinted, yanking him off his feet like he’d been tied to a racecar. Hellcat spun around with the beatie’s hand still velcro spiked onto it and pounced on his back.

With his one good limb all twisted around behind him pinning him down, he just thrashed as Hellcat had a feeding frenzy on the back of his neck. There was a wet crunch as she finally bit through his spine and the body went limp. The crowd shot to their feet with screaming applause.

I looked over at Talynn to see how she was taking her win. She breathed hard with bedroom eyes. Touching herself sensual through her rubber catsuit. She was getting her jollies from this. I heard the crowd starting in with these shocked gasps and looked back into the pit. Hellcat had gotten the late Minogore’s head ripped right off and was holding it up in triumph. It was back up on two legs, but there was this thing between its legs.

Down at the very bottom of its belly was something looked like a big, red dogcock sprouting stiff from a skin-sheath. Hellcat dropped the head and grabbed the beastie’s neckstump as it crouched down and started humping her beastly prick into the wound. Unbefuckinglievable.

Minogore’s pilot started on with a stream of frantic threats and obscenities across the pit at Talynn. She didn’t seem to notice on account of being distracted by the sensations of necro-rapin’ the poor beatie’s corpse that were coming to her brain through Affinity. She was down on all fours touching herself through the bodysuit while she was piloting her beastie to defile her enemy’s remains. The other pilot stormed out, not wanting to watch any more.

Twisted bitch finally finished her show of live-action bestial snuff porn, leaving Minogore’s headless body dripping with spunk. Couldn’t believe she’d actually built a beastie with functioning parts like that. Most Baiters don’t put in anything that isn’t absolutely essential. At best they give just enough vocals so as it can growl and snarl. Talynn and Hellcat left the stage to the sound of an applauding crowd that was looking about to see if everyone else witnessed the same surreal fuck-show they’d just watched.

I kept my hood up and my head down as I shuffled out of the arena with the rest of the spectators. Afterwards, made my way to an out of the way chippy restaurant a few blocks down to process and strategize. Sat down and ordered the specialty. Talynn and I were going to get paired off sooner rather than later, and that beastie of hers was a damn frightful thing to contend with. It took out limbs before going in for the kill; that’s where Khanivore would have an advantage. Two arms, two legs, four bone-spear tentacles, and the bladed head. That gives nine appendages for Hellcat to neutralize before she can kill me. Khanivore’s a good bit faster than the great, burly brutes she usually fights, but nothing compared to Hellcat. Thing moves like it’s got a rocket up its arse. We could maybe get a quick little drone so Khanivore could get in some practice. Or do things analogue-like and pick up a pack of rabbits, maybe. Make for good stew after, anyway.

Just then I noticed a pair of eyes boring into me from a table off to the side. I glanced back. Fuck. It was Talynn. Her and her team must have waltzed in while I was playing out fight scenarios in my head.

She stood up and glided smooth right on over to me, eyes staying locked on my scar-striped face. She sat down across from me looking like she was ready to pounce, except not at all hostile. She moved with this weird felinity made her seem not quite human. I figured I’d been found out and there was no point in pretending I hadn’t been doing what I was doing. Felt awkward, though.

“Hey... congratulations on the win tonight. Figured what with us being the only two female pilots in the sport, promoters would have us face off eventually. Wanted to see what we’d be up against.” I sounded a bit more nervous than I wanted, but she didn’t seem to notice. Just kept staring.

“I idolize you, Sonnie.” she said in this awestruck little voice, “I don’t care if you were watching me. God knows I’ve watched you and Khanivore. You’re a warrior; bestial rage and savagery. I honestly get a little wet when I watch you.” She said the last bit looking straight into my eyes without a whisper of shame. Randy bitch got me blushing.

She was real pretty up close, too. Shit, I’d always been a bit soft for the pretty ones. Waitress brought my food a moment later and I offered to share with Talynn. Her team was getting a bit rowdy over in their corner, but her venerating eyes never left me for a moment. We ate and talked flirtatiously until she invited me back to her room.

I told her we’d better go to mine instead. I got caught up with a pretty thing a while back that had ended up with me having a couple more face-scars and a skull that’d been rebuilt twice now. I’m extra careful since.

As we headed the few blocks back to the room I’d got for the night, Talynn kept looking down at where I was walking, like she was fixated or something. When I asked her about it, she got this nervous look like I’d caught her staring at my tits, and then she changed the subject.

Back in my room I had her strip the moment she got through the door. The red bodysuit didn’t leave much room for hidden tricks, but I couldn’t be too careful. She had a cute body, a bit of rich-girl softness, but not too much, and that bit of a tan that American girls have. I noticed a mess of little white lines down her left arm and across her belly; looked self-inflicted with a razor. She’d used to be a cutter, but I’m in no place to be judgemental. She stood confident with arms akimbo, except her eyes were still downcast to the floor I was standing on.

“You got a thing for feet or something?” I asked teasingly. She responded by shifting with this coy little grin. “Oh fuckin’ hell! You do, don’t you??” She nodded.

I hopped up on the dresser bit of the hotel room and crossed one leg over the other. I pointed one of my street-blackened feet at her, “All right, well get on with it then.” She got this look on her face like I’d just told her she’d won a million quid.

She drifted down onto all fours real graceful and started coming towards me. The girl moved like she was born quadrupedal; made sense she’d practice getting the feel of it to drive Hellcat the way she did. Writhing muscles in her back made me think she might be stronger than she looked, but there wasn’t much she could do to my feet that’d remove me as a rival so I wasn’t worried. Not yet, at least.

She came up and pressed her face against the sole, all reverent-like. I’d heard about people who get off worshipping feet, even got fan-letters from a few, but I didn’t peg Talynn as the submissive type. Then again, she seemed up-for-anything when it came to displays of carnality. Her tongue dripped out of her mouth and slid it slowly from heel up to my toes before she began fellating the digits. It felt… weird. There was an unfamiliar kind of pleasure in it I hadn’t expected, like a finger in the ass.

She flossed her tongue between each of my toes in turn, then pinched the skin at the side real gentle between her teeth. She worked her way back, biting a bit harder as the skin thickened up. It hurt just barely enough to make it interesting. Eventually, she was literally nipping at my heels. I wondered if she’d be appreciative of the poetry of that, but decided to keep my mouth shut about it.

The little footbath she gave me with her gob lasted a good ten minutes. “You’re done” I told her in this dominating tone I guessed she’d like. She looked up at me with this little puppy-dog pout. “It’s my turn, get on the bed. Face up.”

She hopped over, staying on all fours like a good little pet. I pull a set of police style handcuffs out of the drawer and use them to fasten her wrists around the bars in the headboard. She smiled like she thought it was kinky. Truth is I just don’t like surprises from my one-nighters, especially not the ones who’re stark mad like Talynn.

I start kissing at her neck and work my way down, fingertips trailing behind. Cute little Baiter had nice soft tits, so I took my time on those. I figured she liked things a bit rough, on account of the happy little gasp she let out when I grabbed hard and dug my fingernails in. She had these puffy pink little nipples I grabbed and twisted hard. She squealed but still had this toothy grin on her face. At that point I sucked as much of her titmeat into my mouth as I could and bit down. Not too hard, just enough to leave a momento that’d last a couple days. Gave her a matching bite mark on the other side before returning to my pilgrimage down to her smooth little quim.

Between her legs tasted like a rich girl. You could tell the ones that ate all fresh organic grown shit. I put my hands on the inside of each leg and pried her wide open. Bendy little cunt, nearly got her into a full split. I gave a few slow kisses on the lower lips before I got to work. Buried my tongue inside her before I started using it to write out the alphabet. It was a trick I’d heard way back before I’d had my first fuck. Not too effective on it’s own, I’d learned, but pay attention and you can figure out the right spots to hit. Talynn liked the side to side and when I did little circles around her clit. T’s and Z’s and O’s hit the spots for her. Also liked when I raked my nails up and down the inside of her thighs. Got into a nice rhythm for a while, licking and sucking and scratching a bit harder each time I switched it up. The girl was breathing harder and shorter, and started in with this happy little mewling.

I stopped suddenly and pulled away just as she was edging right close to the point of no return. Looked up at her to see her staring daggers at me, but her mad little smirk said she was still having fun. “Bitch!” she said at me in this I-can’t-believe-you-did-that tone.

“Can’t have you falling in love with a rival Baiter, can we? You might get soft when you’re in the pit. Don’t want any doubt when I take down that beastie of yours that I did it fair.”

Talynn barked out this arrogant laugh, then suddenly she… changed. The little babydoll act turned sinister, and she got this air of menace dripping off of her. The cute little fan-girl was speaking in this deep dark voice all of a sudden. “You think Khanivore is going to take me down?” Her tone seemed real arrogant for a bitch that was naked and handcuffed on my bed. “We’re unbeatable. You may have seen Hellcat in action, but you don’t know what we’re capable of.”

She had my interest piqued with that one. “You and your beastie got a secret edge, do you?”

Her grin turned sinister, “If you’re lucky, you might figure it out right before I fuck your beastie’s corpse. Then, I’ll fuck you until you scream. And this time, I won’t let you escape until I’m satisfied.”

This time I actually laughed a bit as the mad cunt thought she could menace me in her predicament. “And what are you going to do if I win, then? That mean I get to fuck you ‘til I’ve had my satisfaction fulfilled?”

She shrugged, “I guess so.”

“That a promise?”

She stared into my eyes real intense while she considered. “Winner fucks the loser any way they choose. I promise if you do.”

I nodded and then opened a drawer to toss her the handcuff key. It landed by her head and she seemed to have no problems with holding it in her mouth and twisting round to get her wrists undone. She started slipping back into the red, rubber skinsuit when she got inquisitive. “They say you got raped by a gang that carved you up afterwards.” She said the words way more casual than any sane person ought to, “That’s where you got all those pretty scars. They also say it made you angry, and hard. And that’s why you always win. Is that true?”

“It’s true that’s what they fucking say, yeah.”

Talynn asked, “Does it turn you on?” I shot back with this face that said what the fuck? But she just kept on with this dreamy-dark look on her face. “Knowing that they wanted to hurt you, to violate you. Does it make you wet when you look in the mirror and see the love letters they wrote to you in your flesh? It’s kind of beautiful when you think about it. They wanted to give you a gift they knew you’d keep forever.”

“Are you fucking mental?!”

This gash of a shit-eating grin opened up across her face as she looked back at me, “Can’t have you falling in love with a rival Baiter, can we? You might get soft.”

I shook my head, she was just fucking with me to get a bit of payback. That was fair enough. “Anyone ever tell you you’re a goddamn psychopath?”

“I’m told it’s one of my better qualities.”

“Look, I’ll be honest with you. The estate gang bit’s a fabrication. Got into a mishap and flipped my van a while back... I ain’t never been raped.”

Talynn had her clothes back on at this point, what little of them there was. She walked up to me real close and said, “Well if you want to keep it that way, you’d better start training.” Then she walked out of my room with this conceited expression that made me want to bash her skull into pudding.

Yankee bitch was a spoiled twat, and fucking certifiable, but she’ll be a hell of a rival.

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

“Sonnie is amazing.” I spoke the words into the mostly empty warehouse to my precious Hellcat. In truth, I was talking to the other part of myself through the Affinity Link, perceiving the world through two bodies at once. She was the real Talynn; the warrior, the sadist… the beast. She appeared as my savior when I was a child. A monster strong enough to overcome the ones that surrounded me. Doctors called her a ‘dissociative identity” and told me I needed treatment to get rid of her. Bullshit. Talynn was my avenging angel, she didn’t need treatment. She needed a body of her own, and a regular supply of monsters to keep her bloodlust sated.

The beast and I mirrored one another, stalking in excited circles. “We’ll need to train if we want to beat her. And I know you want to beat her, don’t you, Talynn? It will be so beautiful. Khanivore will make such a beautiful corpse-lover for you, don’t you think? I’ll keep us linked for afterwards, so you can watch me violate Sonnie in the back room. She’s such a beautiful thing, isn’t she, my love?” My naked body writhed at the thought as I laid down upon a large metal crate. My throbbing cunt overflowed with lubrication. Sonnie refused to give me an orgasm, and I wouldn’t be able to rest until I was satisfied.

“Sonnie is mine, Tara-Lynn.” The words snarled through my own vocal chords, but the voice wasn’t my own. Speaking was the only thing Talynn used my body for, everything else she did with Hellcat.

“What? No, she didn’t know she was talking to you when she agreed. She doesn’t-”

“I want them both!! I will violate Khanivore’s corpse and then I will drag Sonnie into the pit and fuck her in the blood of her beastie.” Talynn animated Hellcat’s face into a menacing scowl as she spoke.

“Oh.” was all I said at first. “The audience will enjoy that.” I finally added.

“As will you, Tara-Lynn. You always enjoy feeling through my body. I know you do. She’ll be so small, so tight as we rape her to death.”

I had to admit it was true, I always loved feeling sex through Hellcat. At that, Talynn directed Hellcat’s massive body to climb atop my own, I had to be careful to avoid the talons and spines. My legs spread eagerly as my beloved’s red cock tumesced beyond her sheath. She slowly pressed it between my legs and found no resistance as our bodies joined as closely as our minds.

Hellcat rocked my body as she began slowly, but powerfully, thrusting her beastial phallus inside of me. I squealed in rapturous pleasure as I felt her knot slowly expanding inside me, binding me to her. Talynn directed her thrusts to quicken in pace. I lay passively, knowing that any errant movement could cause my accidental mutilation and possible death upon the deadly anatomy of our murderous beast.

I perceived our lovemaking alongside Talynn through Hellcat’s body as well. The sensory nerves she insisted be grafted to her cock allowed me to feel the tightness of my cunt gripping. I felt her thick muscles above me, saw through eyes looking down at me. How easy it would be for her to end my life if Talynn directed her to do it. She could easily fuck me to death if she’d willed it. The thought raised goosebumps on my skin.

Talynn slowed the pace of the frantic thrusting inside of my cunt. Hellcat could reach orgasm more quickly than I could, and I wanted to climax with her simultaneously. We closed our eyes and let our minds play an image . We pictured Sonnie beneath us, her beautiful scarred body laid bare. The thought of butchering her beast in front of a cheering audience, and then dragging her into the pit for us to fuck bloody put us over the edge. It wasn’t the first time we’d fantasized about such a thing, but it was the first time since she’d agreed to it, the first time since we’d felt her touch in real life. Winner fucks the loser to satisfaction. She promised.

Hellcat began to cum, filling my spasming cunt, pumping near scalding hot jets of artificial semen inside of me. God how I want Sonnie to feel this. I want to feel this with her. I will feel this with her. Hellcat is unstoppable. Sonnie is going to be mine.

#talynnsedge

12 notes · View notes

dimancheetoile · 6 years ago

Text

carve a suit of armour of your bones

Written for @mouseymightymarvellous for the @narutogiftexchange (yes I’m weeks late. I know.) I hope I did justice to your amazing prompt. Also, title is from @mouseymightymarvellous‘s own poem, you are more than your demons//the only demons here are you

Read on AO3

“You fucking pig!”

The sound of shattered glass makes her flinch. She stumbles, her grip firm on the sake bottle. She takes another long swallow of the drink, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

“Yeah, that's right! Run away, coward!”

Her fist bumps against her chest as she straightens. “I closed the fucking Breach, asshole. Show some respect!”

She wavers, unsteady. Her next step is hesitant and she looses her footing. She's about to faceplant on the floor when a hand catches her wrist.

“Watch it, pussy!”

“Sakura, it's me.”

She turns around, barely standing. She squints, her eyes clouded by the alcohol.

“Who the fuck are you?”

“Oh, heavens. Focus, please.”

She blinks and blinks again, until her vision clears enough to zoom in on dark eyes and fair skin.

“Ayame?”

“Yes. Now, come on. We're going home.”

Sakura leans on the other woman, her sake still secure in her hand. There isn't much left but she isn't going to waste it. It's a luxury, even now that the war is over. The Shatterdome is probably the only place she can find some without giving up an arm for it. Lucky for her, she happens to live in the Shatterdome.

The way back is short, if only because she was already wasted when she left her room and didn't have the coordination to walk far. Then that man looked her funny and she might have lost her calm. Might. She's never been known for her cool temper, so fuck them all.

“Get in there, go on.”

“Fuck off.”

“Sakura, don't be difficult, please.”

She snorts but complies silently, tumbling face first into her bed. She remains unmoving while Ayame takes her combat boots off and puts them down.

“Give me the bottle.”

“Piss off, seriously.”

“I'll take it from you.”

“I'd love to see you try, kid.”

Ayame rolls her eyes. “I'm older than you.”

Sakura rises on her elbow to look at the other woman. Her eyes are clear again, but red and tired. The circles underneath are dark as the abyss of the ocean she came back from. She doesn't say anything, only staring at Ayame, with a gaze old as time.

“Go to sleep, Marshal.”

Sakura laughs, short and bitter. Her hands deftly unclasp the straps around her shin and she takes off her cargo pants. Her prosthetic hums quietly, lit from inside with electric blue.

“I don't sleep, Ayame. Why would I risk it?”

The angry scars on her right cheek, twisting her mouth, cast blue shadows on her face.

“They might stop talking to me.”

It's weird to wake up with a hangover and have it being the least annoying thing happening. But her prosthetic is stuck in the covers and Naruto is telling her a joke about frogs that has stopped being funny ten years ago. The hangover is far from being a problem.

She rolls out of bed, tearing off a piece of the covers without an ounce of regret. The mirror in the small bathroom of her bunk is laughing at her. She pins her hair in a barely conform bun and flips the bird to her reflection. Sasuke is toying with a strand of her hair as she ties her boots. There is no stopping the shivers running up her spine.

The cafeteria is filled to the brim with life and laughter and optimism. The war is two months old, just enough to allow for wounds to heal. Small wounds, at least. The gaping abyss in her soul isn't healing any time soon.

Ayame smiles at her when she gets her tray. Sakura finds that she can't quite return it. There is rust between her teeth and her smile tastes like iron.

It only gets worst when people leave a wide space for her to seat at the table. She knows, she knows that she's a legend to them, but it only feels like the plague in her brain is contaminating everyone around her. She eats her beans and ignores Naruto when he pokes at her cheek with his fork.

The cadets are waiting for her in the training room. She doesn't salute anyone when she goes inside, only grabs her practice stick and stands in position. It's two hours of kicking their asses before going back to her room. They don't stand a chance, and they shouldn't. No one should ever see the insides of that wretched Breach if she has anything to say about it.

(she doesn't say that the Breach is a grave now, a sepulture for her eyes only)

She's excused from any kind of paperwork that usually comes with being a Marshal. She's one in name only. Benefits of being one of the Sannin, the legendary trio who saved the world.

“Where did you get that bottle?”

Sakura doesn't look up from the bottom of her glass.

“Go away.”

“Give me the bottle, Sakura,” Ayame sighs.

She looks the cook straight in the eyes and empties the full litre of vodka in one go.

“You'll make yourself sick, heavens!”

Sakura puts the bottle down and rises with difficulty. Her heavy breathing fills the air with the smell of liquor.

“This needs to stop, Sakura. You can't keep going on like this.”

“Yeah? Watch me.”

“I know you're in pain—”

Ayame yells in surprise when Sakura shatters the bottle against the wall. She's panting, her eyes wide, hair falling in every direction.

“Do not talk to me about pain. Don't you dare.”

“Sakura—”

“Go fuck yourself.”

She drops the remains of the bottle on the ground and turns around.

“Is there a problem?”

“Oh, dear gods. I'm glad you're here.”

Sakura takes a step back.

“Stay the fuck away. I'm serious. If you touch me, I'll break your arm.”

Shikamaru walks in her direction, his uniform sharp and insignia shining. She can't remember if she's seen him since the final drop. His voice is a painful echo of informations and orders, relays of whatever Marshal Senju had to say.

“Come with me, Sakura.”

“I'm not going anywhere. There's perfectly good sake waiting for me in my room.”

“Please, listen to him.”

Her shout of rage makes Ayame flinch.

“Why can't you ever leave me alone? Both of you?”

“Come with me, Sakura,” Shikamaru repeats.

With a groan, she complies without looking in Ayame's direction. They walk until reaching the hangar. Sakura is so far in her anger that she doesn't notice where they are until a familiar silhouette makes her raise her eyes.

There he is. Rebuilt, repaired, repainted, ripping her heart out. Titan Seven.

It all comes to her in a rush. The constant ghost drift she has with Naruto and Sasuke goes crazy, bombarding her with images and memories and sensations. Her own memory is hijacked by the last drop, by those few seconds in the Breach where a decision had to be made.

She doesn't realize she's crying until her face is pressed in Shikamaru's neck.

“You're gonna be fine. It's okay.”

She gasps. “I'm alone. All the time. I'm so alone. I want them back!”

“Shhh.”

She hides her scream in his neck, nausea twisting her stomach when she feels Naruto's fingers on the small of her back. Sasuke whispers sweet nothings in her ear and Sakura screams some more. Shikamaru gathers her closer and rocks her gently.

The rust on her teeth starts to spread.

Ayame is braiding her hair.

It's a foreign feeling, a tightness close to her scalp. She learnt it from a Kenyan pilot who died defending the wall of life. Now the braids are drawing pink patterns on golden skin. Sakura is doing her best to focus but she can feel herself dissociate.

Ayame has a sweet voice, a gentleness in the way she pronounces vowels. She's singing something old, something Sakura doesn't understand. The warmth it brings to the deep of her stomach is just what she needs.

The braids are short, they follow the shape of her skull, and it makes her feel clean.

“Do you want to tell me about them?”

A sentence, immediately followed by more singing, like Ayame never stopped to ask the question.

Like Sakura can choose to ignore it if she wants to.

She doesn't.

“I'm cold.”

Shikamaru looks her up and down. His hand barely touches the new braids on her head. She steps closer, and he draws her into a hug.

It's not what she wants, and he knows it. She thinks he knows, at least.

Just in case...

“Make me warm.”

He hugs her tighter, his mouth on her braids. Closed.

“I'm not sleeping with you.”

Sakura closes her eyes, hard.

Naruto is smiling behind her eyelids. His arm is around Sasuke's shoulders and he's gesturing at her to join them. Her jaw trembles.

She's cold.

“I'm not sleeping with you, Sakura!”

The emotion is so different, paired with watery eyes and flushed cheeks.

Where Shikamaru's rejection had felt like exhaustion and defeat, Ayame's is disappointment and hurt.

Shame burns on Sakura's face as she turns away.

Ayame's fingers around her wrist are overlapping with Sasuke's.

“You don't get to leave after asking this!” Ayame is breathing fast, closer to tears than any drunken mistakes of Sakura's has ever brought her. “You need help.”

You do, Sasuke whispers against her throat.

Sakura is cold.

Shikamaru holds her hand all the way to the therapist's office. On her other side, Naruto is playing with her thumb, engrossed in a conversation with Sasuke she's heard a thousand times before.

When they stop at the door, Shikamaru looks at her side like he can see them. Something breaks inside of Sakura. Shikamaru nods and Naruto and Sasuke nod back.

“Leave them with me while you're inside, yeah?”

Sakura opens her mouth, but Ayame appears at the end of the corridor, looking like she's been running. She joins them, not once stepping on neither of her ghosts' toes.

“We'll keep them company,” Ayame says, out of breath.

Sakura swallows hard.

She wraps her hand around the door knob, not daring taking her eyes off of her partners.

(which ones?)

“Marshal Haruno? Please come in.”

The door closes behind her. She breathes in.

Naruto and Sasuke stay on the other side.

#shikasaku #sakura #ayame #shikamaru #naruto #sasuke #narutogiftexchange #fanfiction #pacific rim fusion #my writing #narusasusaku

34 notes · View notes

sodoyouknowbts · 7 years ago

Text

Jin x Reader - Timelines (Five)

Part of the ‘Souls’ Series

Summary: Jin is a time traveler, trying to get a grip of his ability. He can’t quite figure out why he keeps travelling to times and moments with you.

Pairing: Jin x Reader

Genre: Time slip, time travel, romance, soul mates

Author: Pilot

Chapters: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06

Chapter Five

You stand there, Jin’s arms around you. You’re breathless, hearing nothing but the rain pattering on the ground. Jin closes his eyes.

It was beginning to make sense to him. Of late, all of his time travelling was leading him to you. The way he met you, the fact that he had kept bumping into you. The strings of fate had wrapped themselves around you both, constantly pulling you together.

You’re astonished. You tighten your grip around the handle of the umbrella. He’s soaked through and is in turn making your clothes damp.

Jin opens his eyes and stares blankly ahead of him. He didn’t know what made him do it, hug you. The urge was too strong and he was overwhelmed to know you pulled through and that you were okay. How do I explain this? Jin thinks. Jin unwraps himself from you, his hands resting on the sides of your shoulders.

He gives you a weary smile. You’re still not sure what’s going on.

“Jin, are you okay?”

Go with full flirtation. He decides.

“I’m better now that I’ve seen you.” he says. “Beautiful girls always have a tendency to make people happy.”

You narrow your eyes at him and let out a laugh. That didn’t even really make sense. He was such a flirt.

Jin is relieved that comment has distracted you.

“Have you eaten?” he adds quickly.

“No, not yet.” You step back and look at him. “You’re soaking wet.”

He shrugs.

“Do you want to go to the hospital and get changed into some other clothes?” you ask.

Jin didn’t really feel like going back to the hospital at this point.

“No, come on, let’s go get some food, I’m more hungry than anything.” He pulls at his shirt. “I’ve had worse.” He turns you around and nudges you forward. “I know a place we can go.” he points in front of you both, “It’’s just around the corner. Let’s go, I’ll hold the umbrella.“

Jin takes it from your hands and walks beside you, holding it above your heads. You note he’s a especially talkative today.

“So how do you know Mr Cha?” Jin asks.

“He used to be my teacher in high school. He helped me out a fair bit…” your voice trails off. The headache was back, throbbing again. You rub your head. A memory of you being in hospital comes back to the forefront.

“He moved here a few years ago to teach at one of the highschools in the city and I happened to bump into him when I was covering a story on school exams!” you continue.

You look up at Jin. “And you, you’re obviously his doctor.”

Jin nods.

A car whizzes past. You strain your brain, thinking back to when you were younger. Mr Cha had been a great help. He had saved your life.

Suddenly you remember seeing someone else in the hospital room with you. Your mind is fuzzy. You had never recalled that before.

“Handsome doctor!“ Jin exclaims proudly, interrupting your thoughts.

“Handsome?!” you laugh and punch him in the arm. There was no denying his good looks, but you weren’t about to admit them to him.

“I’d be hurt if you thought differently.” he says, somewhat truthfully. He watches your expression. You avoid his eyes and laugh, looking at your feet and avoiding puddles.

“We’re here.” He says.

You found yourself standing outside a brightly lit cafe, the yellow light from inside pouring out onto the grey sidewalk.

He gets the door for you and you walk in, warmth enveloping your body. Jin is still outside and bends over a little. He brings his hand up to his hair and wrings out any excess water he’d collected from the rain. He watches a few droplets of water hit the pavement and then straightens himself up. Jin closes the umbrella, steps inside the cafe and pops it into the nearby umbrella stand.

“Did you just squeeze your hair?”

He responds with a sheepish grin. You both take a seat and the waitress comes over to you.

“Caught in the rain?” She asks.

“Just a bit.”

“Hold on, I’ve got some blankets you can use.”

She scurries away and returns with a few blankets, which Jin gratefully wraps around himself, using one to first dry up a bit and the other to keep warm.

You order a pot of green tea to start.

Jin examines the menu, one hand holding together the blankets at his neck and the other holding his menu up to his face. He squints his eyes and blinks.

“Usually, I order the pasta. It’s good.”

“Hmmm pasta?”

“Just trust me on this one.”

You do.

You spend the rest of the night talking about everything, work, life, the little pet rocks you had as a kid. Jin’s equally as talkative, careful not to drop the pretence. You learn that he’s recently moved apartments and has transferred hospitals.

Finally, it’s time to go. You collect your things and head back outside.

It’s still raining lightly.

“I’ll walk you home?” You offer. “I mean, I have the umbrella after all.”

Jin laughs. “I’m fine, really. Do you know your way back?”

“I have GPS on my phone, do you know your way back with that old thing?”

“I think I can navigate myself from here.” he says, coyly. You turn and wave farewell to him, clutching the umbrella tightly. He heads down the street, ducking undercover. You watch as he turns the corner.

You decide to run after him and suggest you both just take a cab back. You turn the same corner but unexpectedly, he’s no where to be seen.

***

Jin wakes up. He opens his eyes and he stares at the wall.

Jin rolls onto his back. He punches the pillow behind him with his hand. He was still piecing together your reality. You didn’t ask him anything else about the hug. He felt relieved. The more time he spent with you, the more he yearned for you. A feeling he had never really experienced.

But a relationship with you? That wasn’t practical. Not with his time and space travelling ability. That would be selfish to subject you to that. Not to mention, messy.

He gets up, feeling hungry. Thank goodness it’s a Saturday. He stretches his arms above his head and lets out a yawn. And thankfully there was no work today.

Jin goes for a shower first, cleaning up and then pulling on some grey sweatpants. He scratches his bare chest. What did he feel like for breakfast today? Toast? Waffles? Pancakes.

“Ah, I wonder if I have maple syrup…” he exclaims, moving to the pantry. He spots it hiding behind the bread. “Bingo.” It’s almost empty but there’s enough for breakfast.

Jin smiles, pulling out the flour and milk. When he was stressed, cooking usually eased him. He mixes together the mixture and pours a perfect circle of batter into the pan.

He’s staring at the bubbles accumulate on the pancake. He flips it over. Was he meant to look after you? Keep an eye out for you? And why you, of all people. Why at this particular point in his life?

Sure. He had recently moved to this apartment a few months ago because he transferred to another hospital…maybe that was it. Maybe moving apartments was what had caused something within him to lock onto you and pull him to you. You lived near each other and worked near each other. His internal GPS redirecting him to you.

This type of time travel hadn’t occurred with anyone specific before.

Jin’s ears prick up. He hears the apartment door lock sound and unlock. He pauses, turning the stove off.

He hears the door open and he turns around.

His mouth drops as he sees you enter his apartment. Your hair is longer and you’re carrying grocery bags. You walk to the dining room table with a sweet smile on your face and plant them down.

“Mmm are you making pancakes?” You ask, moving over to him.

Jin’s mouth is open, his eyes wide. What were you doing in his apartment?

He glances at the calendar on the wall. 2018. He’d travelled again. He gulps. You move over to him and walk your fingers across his shoulder.

“My favourite.”

Jin just about drops the spatula on the kitchen floor. He puts it on the counter and quickly brings his arms up to cover his chest. He begins to edge away from you, knocking the pan on the stove. He jumps slightly.

You’re looking at him with an expression of mild curiosity.

“Why are you being so shy today?”

“Why am I - today?!”

“Yeah you’re not usually one to be conscious about your good looks… are you feeling okay?”

He watches you bring hand to his forehead and freezes, arms still up. You touch it and frown.

“You’re pretty hot boo…”

Jin’s not sure what he’s more shocked at, that you’ve touched his bare chest without blinking an eye, or that you’ve just called him boo.

He stammers, taking a few steps back. “I’m fine, just - heat from the stove you know.” Jin quickly slips past and heads to his room, closing the door. He leans against it, face in his hands.

What on earth. Are we…dating?

“Jin?” You call from the other side of the door, knocking on it. “Are you okay?”

“Yes just fine I’m just changing.” Jin responds. He quickly hurries to his cupboard and pulls on a shirt. He takes a breath and heads back out.

You’re unpacking the groceries. You see him and walk on over to him. “You look pale, Jin.”

“I’m fine.” He says again, quickly moving to the pancakes. Act indifferent while you’re trying to figure this out.

He takes the plate and begins to squeeze maple syrup out. You walk up behind him and take a peek. You wrap your arms around his waist, hugging him from behind. He jolts, accidentally squeezing too much out of the bottle. Jin’s heart is pounding rapidly. That’s not all that’s surprised. He pushes his body against the kitchen counter and looks up at the ceiling. Why was this happening?

He clears his throat.

“How long have we been together now?” he asks, trying to come off smooth.

“Mmm, just under a year?” You say, breathing into his back.

Did he time travel in his sleep?

“I’m going to head out.” He says quickly. “I need more maple syrup.”

You look down at his pancakes. They’re practically flooded.

“But -”

“I’ll see you later!” He says, wriggling out of your grasp. He moves to the door, slips on his shoes and makes a break for it. You poke your head out of the apartment, watching him sprint to the end of the corridor.

Jin frantically presses the button on the elevator. He gets to the lobby and bumps into someone wearing a cap and a hoodie.

He turns around and apologises. The person he bumps into looks up.

Jin freezes. It’s his future self.

Future Jin smiles brightly. “Finally.” Future Jin grabs Jin by the wrist and pulls him out of the apartment lobby. Jin shakes his hand free.

“You’re -”

“Yes. I am you. You are me.” Future Jin responds. “And no, I won’t answer any questions.”

“What? That’s unfair.”

“Okay fine I will answer some questions. I can’t reveal all my secrets to my past self, now can I?”

Jin rubs his head. The mental stress he was experiencing was worse than that when he took his medical exams. He rubs his temples.

“We need to swap clothes.”

“Swap? We what now?”

“Swap clothes.” Future Jin sighs. “I can’t go back up there wearing this. She didn’t see me leave the house this morning.”

“We are in a public!”

A few minutes later, Future Jin pops out from behind the tree near the apartment, wearing grey sweatpants. Jin sighs, disgruntled, now wearing a cap and hoodie.

“Can you at least explain to me the time travel?”

“I think for the most part I have worked it out.” Future Jin examines Jin closely.

“Judging from the way you look, I’d say you’re about a year younger than me? Jin scoffs. Hearing himself talk down to himself was weird.

“Ah you’re so young and naive.” Future Jin says, patting the creases out of his shirt. He can’t believe he’s talking to himself like he’s a young boy.

“So why am I travelling through space and time?”

“We’ve been time travelling for years. We’re in a loop. You just need to live it out. I remember this too, thinking how condescending future me was. Future, future me, has already passed through here. I don’t really know what else is in store. Everything has been pretty steady up until today.”

Jin stares at himself in disbelief. “What kind of answer is that?”

Future Jin shrugs. “Okay, I’ll see you around, probably.”

“No, wait!” Why was he so evasive?

“What is my connection with her?” Jin signals at the apartment.

“Do you remember making a wish when you were younger?”

“A wish? What do you mean? I’ve made heaps of wishes.”

“Yeah, but a specific wish?”

Jin stops and thinks.

“Stop trying to control things. It’s out of your control.” Future Jin puts his hand on Jin’s shoulder in some sort of comforting manner, interrupting Jin’s thoughts. “Small events define your life and set other things in motion.”

Future Jin releases his arm. “We are a sum of parts, a bunch of things that have minutely fallen together and into place. I’ve just come to accept it.”

Jin frowns at him and Future Jin laughs. “If I told you all the answers it wouldn’t be fun.”

At that point, Jin disappears, back to his timeline.

***

Jin’s back in bed, woken up by the sound of the doorbell buzzing. He didn’t want to get out. His stomach was hungry since he had never eaten the pancakes. He rolls over, pulling the pillow over his head. He didn’t want to answer it.

Everything is happening so fast. He let out a bitter laugh at the irony.

You stand outside, cake in your hands. You had wanted to give him something for lending you his umbrella, treating you to dinner. You had picked it up at the bakery just before. Most importantly you wanted to make sure he had gotten home okay and hadn’t gotten sick.

You press the bell again and call out.

No answer.

Jin can hear you but hasn’t got the strength to see you just yet. He sits up and hesitates. You begin to ring his phone. It buzzes and Jin quickly silences it. You decide to send him a message, letting him know that when he gets home, there’s something for him outside.

You place the cake box on the floor. You head off to the office, taking one last glance at it.

Jin waits an hour before he goes outside. He picks the cake up and places it on his counter, quietly unboxing it. He grabs a fork and sticks it in, taking a bite. It’s a soft and light vanilla cream cake. Perfect, because he was getting really hungry. He takes another bite, pondering everything he had just experienced.

He pulls a packet of instant ramen from the cupboard and boils a pot. He had decided he was going to try and keep his distance from you, for now. He figured that might just help him ease his feelings for you. Although, there was no denying you were together in the future. He scratches his head roughly and sighs, annoyed.

He was going to just try and put a little time and space between you, so he could get himself back on track.

He sends you a text, thanking you for the cake and leaves it at that. He leaves it at that for weeks.

***

You’re worried. You haven’t really seen him since that night and you’re wondering if the cake gesture was too much. You of course, had kept replaying the hug in your mind.

Something else had come to mind too, the past few days. You swear you recalled seeing someone that looked like Jin, when you were younger. Maybe a relative? Maybe you had actually dreamt it up. That made more sense.

You tap your pen on the desk at work, distracted.

“Y/N?” one of your colleagues calls out. You look up.

“Uh, shouldn’t we get to the hospital to cover that story?”

“Huh? OH! Right!” You get up quickly. The hospital was accepting a prestigious award for a medical breakthrough. You pick your bag up off the desk and take your gear with you.

You watch as your colleague grabs his digital camera. Maybe you’d bump into Jin today? You step out and get into the car with your workmate.

He pulls up and parks and you get out, fumbling in your bag for the recorder. The majority of the media had already arrived in the foyer and were being directed to a conference room on the ground floor. You follow, bag hitting your side as you walked.

You took a seat and pulled out your laptop, placing it on one of the many rows of desks in front of you.

Then you see him. Jin. He’s standing on the sides, shaking hands and talking with a few senior health officials. You jot a few notes down but you’re not listening, instead distracted by him. You’re thankful that you had brought the recorder because you had missed the first part of the press conference.

Finally, photographs are taken and you watch on from your seat. Your co-worker gets up to take some images and Jin is among the few photographed together.

Jin sees you from the podium, right after he’s delivered his short speech. He steps down and looks away, pretending like he didn’t see you. Avoid was what he was trying to do.

The press conference comes to a close and he quickly leaves. You grab your things and stuff them into your bag, rushing out to follow him outside. He’s standing near the patient pick up bay.

“Jin!” You call.

He stops. So much for avoiding her.

“Hey. How are you?” You say, a little nervous.

He turns around. “I’m well. How are you? Thanks again, for the cake. It was just what I needed.”

“Good. I’m glad - congratulations on this amazing break through.”

“Ah, thank you. It was all of us.”

You shift your weight on your leg, a little stuck for words. Jin is staring at you. You look even more gorgeous than he remembered.

Jin looks ahead. He notices a car on the approach. It’s speeding down the inlet, a little too close to the kerb. His eyes go from the car to the big pot hole and puddle of water at the side of the footpath, near where you’re both standing. It had been raining heavily the day before. Before the car reaches you, Jin takes your hand and pulls you away from the road. Water splashes up and hits the sidewalk with force.

“That was close, we could have both gotten wet.” He says.

“Thanks for looking out for me.”

“I’m not just here for my good looks, you know.” He jokes.

You roll your eyes, glad he seems to have returned a little back to normal. You look at him. Then you realise Jin hasn’t let go of your hand.

Jin’s overtly aware he’s staring at you and that he still holding your hand.

You look down at it. He can’t seem to let go. Gazing at your face, holding your hand. It felt natural. Suddenly it hits him. He doesn’t want to fight it, or control it anymore. Jin’s expression softens.

“It seemed so complicated, before.” He says.

“What was?” You ask, confused.

Jin licks his lips which have become dry. “It’s clear now. My feelings for you. I guess I like you.”

You’re taken aback. “What?”

“I held back, thinking it was silly. I tried to deny it.” Jin gazes at you with a slight smile. “I like you.”

Your mouth parts slightly in shock at the sudden confession. You don’t know what to say, trying to understand it all. He had feelings for you and you... well you had feelings for him, although you didn’t want to admit them to him just yet.

“I’m not that good with holding things off, or not expressing myself.” Jin continues, nervously. “This is how I feel.”

“I don’t know exactly how I feel…” You trail off, heart thumping hard and fast. Liar.

“You don’t have to know how you feel at this moment.” he shrugs. “Let me know when you’re ready. I’ll wait for you until then.”

“What if I never know?” You say stubbornly.

“You will.”

To be continued.

#jin #bts #jin x reader #kim seokjin #bts fiction #bts scenarios #bts imagines #bts fan fic #bts fanfiction #bts x reader #bts x reader au

64 notes · View notes

stayiny0urmagic · 7 years ago

Text

Be There

A/N: Guys I did a thing. FINALLY. Thank you to @sophandjess77 & @ashnic095 for your motivation/inspo, I literally could not have done this without it.

As for this fic... not rly sure what it is. Not the proudest of it. But I missed writing Linstead so much, and I don’t have it in me to write fluff anymore (at this time anyway), so this happened. It’s technically post 5x07, but I haven’t watched a single minute of S5, so it could be a litttttle off. But it’s wishful thinking. So I hope you all enjoy, and please leave some feedback!

Hope you’re all having a great weekend, and happy Thanksgiving if I don’t talk to y’all before the holiday :) xo

Erin sighed loudly as she rolled over in bed for what felt like the millionth time. She was bone tired and after finally wrapping up what was arguably her hardest case since moving to New York, but for some reason, her body just would not fall asleep. She couldn’t shake the feeling that something was very, very wrong but she didn’t possibly know what it could be. Erin combed over the minimal free time she’d had over the past few days in her mind again, blocking out the majority of her thoughts about the sickening pedophilia ring she’d just busted with the FBI, to try and figure out the cause of the growing pit in her stomach. She’d been stressing about the fact that Thanksgiving was in three days and for the first time in her life, she’d be spending the holiday alone. She still hadn’t gotten close enough with any of her coworkers in the city to be invited to their family celebrations, Liv and Noah were traveling to Connecticut to meet some family, she didn’t have any other friends in New York, and she hadn’t heard from Olive about her plans with Daniel, nor had Hank contacted her with an invite to come home for the long weekend.

Home. Erin sighed again at the thought of that word. She missed Chicago, and Hank, and Intelligence, and her team. Her friends. Jay. She really fucking missed Jay, not that she let herself think about it much. As soon as his name entered her brain, she blindly reached for her cellphone off of her nightstand to distract herself with something else. Anything else. She hit the home button and her breath caught in her throat when her phone lit up and she saw the date. The sinking feeling in her stomach suddenly made sense. Monday, November 20. The clock had recently struck midnight, and it was now exactly six months since the last day she saw Jay Halstead. One hundred eighty days since she looked into those blue eyes made her heart stop. Four thousand three hundred and twenty hours since she’d heard his laugh, the sound that always was, and always would be, her favorite. Over two hundred and fifty thousand minutes since she’d heard his voice. Over one million seconds since his name had popped up on her phone screen that night. That fucking night, that she regrets more than anything in this entire world.

As if on cue, her phone began to vibrate in her hand, and Erin’s heart just about stopped. She didn’t know who was calling her past midnight, but she knew it wasn’t good. Taking a deep breath, she glanced back down at the caller ID.

Hailey Upton, her screen flashed. What the fuck.

Erin’s hand was so shaky that it took her a few rings to finally slide to unlock her phone, and when she finally brought the device to her ear she wasn’t sure her vocal cords were going to work.

“Hello?” She whispered shakily. “Upton?”

“Erin,” Hailey breathed a sigh of relief into the phone. “Thank god you answered.”

“Upton, what the fuck is wrong?” Erin snapped, already out of bed and pacing around her dark room.

“It’s Jay,” her replacement said quickly. “I don’t know what to do. I didn’t know who to call,”

“What about Jay? Did he get shot? Is he-?” Erin’s voice cracked as she said her ex-partner’s name, her mind already fearing the worst. He could not be dead. She would never forgive herself. She didn’t even say goodbye.

“No! God, no, Erin,” Upton said quickly, realizing she had to get on with it. “He’s fine. Physically anyway. Mentally… Erin, I don’t know what to do,” she repeated.

“What happened? And what am I supposed to do about it?” Erin felt a wave of relief knowing Jay was still breathing, but was currently feeling every emotion possible. Guilt and regret, though – those were the strongest.

“Do you know anything about what’s gone on here in the past month?” Hailey said weakly. “It’s been one thing after another. He can’t catch a break. He’s mourning you. He’s mourning our cases. He was just undercover, Erin, and I’m honestly shocked he came out alive. I’ve never seen anyone as broken as I saw him tonight. I don’t even know where, or how, to begin to explain, but I’m so afraid for him. I think tonight was the just beginning of a really awful spiral,” Jay’s new partner’s voice broke midway through her explanation, and that’s all Erin needed to hear for the tears that she’d been holding back to flow freely.

“I…” Erin hiccupped. “I had no idea. I haven’t talked to Hank in months, and every damn night all I want to do is pick up the phone and call Jay, but I can’t bring myself to do it. Maybe if I had-“

“Erin,” Hailey’s voice was stronger now. “Now is not the time to think about what-ifs. Please tell me what to do. How to get through to him. I asked everyone on the team tonight what the hell I should be doing right now, and not only does no one know, but every single person told me to get in touch with you. Even Voight.”

Erin began crying even harder. “He’s,” she stopped to catch her breath. “He’s at the dive bar on the corner of Michigan and Hubbard right now. I promise. Please go to him, Upton, he can’t be alone right now,” she begged.

“How do you know?” Hailey asked, and Erin could hear her already speed-walking.

“I just do,” Erin choked out. “Please just get him somewhere safe for the night,”

“I’m on my way,” Upton promised. “But this isn’t going to magically be better overnight, Erin! What do I do in the morning, when he wakes up hungover – if he can even fall asleep - and crying over the 8-year-old girl he killed, or his nightmares that came back again, or everything that happened when he was just undercover? I don’t know what to do. I haven’t known what to do for months, Erin. Everyone keeps saying that this wouldn’t be happening if you were here. Do you know what a shitty partner that makes me feel like? That every damn day I see my partner struggling to keep his head above water and I can’t even offer him a damn life jacket, but every time I turn my head it seems like someone is talking about what you would do! How you handled him so easily!”

Erin was inconsolable at this point as she dug through her closet to find her suitcase. “I don’t even know what to say right now, Hailey. Please just get him home safe. Don’t let him be alone tonight, and I’ll be in Chicago in the morning.”

“W-what?” Hailey gasped. “You’re coming to Chicago?”

“If Jay needs me, yes. I couldn’t even begin to explain to you how to get through to him. I don’t even know if I know how anymore, or if I’ll be able to figure it out. But what I do know,” Erin sniffled again before finally finding her voice, “is that I love him. I never stopped loving him, and at this point I don’t think I’m ever going to stop. And he’s been there for me and saved me from more downward spirals than I can count, and it’s my turn. He might not even want to see me when I get there, and it very well might be up to you to pull him out of this. But damn it, Hailey, I will never forgive myself if I don’t come home and try to help him right now,”

“Okay,” Upton nodded as if Erin could see her. “Okay. I just got to the bar so… I’m going to pray to God he’s inside.”

“Please keep me updated,” Erin said softly as she threw random clothes into her bag.

“Of course,” Hailey took a deep breath. “Thank you, Erin. Have a safe flight.”

“Thank you for calling me. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow,” Erin sighed as she brought the phone down from her ear and threw it into the middle of her bed, using her free hands to zip up her suitcase.

She threw on a pair of leggings and the first hoodie she could find, which of course happened to be one of Jay’s that she’d stolen months ago, back when everything was okay, and hadn’t been able to leave Chicago without. She glanced in the mirror, noting her puffy eyes and extreme bedhead, but couldn’t bring herself to fix either in her rush to get to the airport. Erin picked up her suitcase and phone off of her bed, slipped a pair of running sneakers onto her feet, then ran out of her bedroom and into the kitchen where grabbed her purse and keys off of her counter before running out the door. Even though it was now nearing 1 am, New York really was the city that never sleeps, and luckily there was a taxi right outside of Erin’s building.

“LaGuardia,” Erin ordered the second she opened the door, throwing her suitcase and purse onto the seat before sliding into the car.

The driver nodded and drove off as Erin felt her phone vibrate in her sweatshirt pocket.

Got him. Driving him back to my place now.

Tears trickled down Erin’s cheeks as she read Hailey’s message. Tears of relief, that he was safe. Tears of guilt, for contributing to the circumstances that landed him in that shitty bar in the first place. Tears of fear, for whatever the fuck was going to happen when she got to Chicago.

Despite the city’s livelihood, there was minimal traffic at this hour and Erin’s cab pulled into the drop off lane at LaGaurdia Airport 25 minutes later. “Thank you,” she mumbled, throwing a wad of cash into the driver’s hand before nearly sprinting out of the car and through the airport doors.

“Hi,” Erin paused to catch her breath as she approached the desk agent. “I need the first available ticket to O’Hare.”

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

Six and a half hours later, Erin Lindsay was back in Chicago. She impatiently sat at the gate at O’Hare waiting for the pilot to let them off the plane, she realized that she should probably let her boss know that she wasn’t going to be in work today. Or any day until after Thanksgiving, for that matter. She knew that there was a 98% chance Jay was going to slam the door in her face the second he saw her, but she’d be damned if she gave up on him this time around.

She typed out a short message to her new boss telling him she had a family emergency in Chicago and had to fly into the city immediately. Professionalism be damned, she thought. At this moment in time, being fired was the least of her worries. She actually only had one worry right now. Only one thing mattered. One person.

The plane finally began to unload and Erin grabbed her suitcase and purse from the overhead compartment, thankful she didn’t have to waste any time waiting at baggage claim. She ordered an Uber to Upton’s apartment the second she was off the plane, tears filling her eyes at the familiarity of the airport she was walking through. Despite her nostalgia, she nearly sprinted through the building. The second she got into the car, she clicked on Upton’s contact and brought her phone to her ear.

“Hey,” Hailey answered quietly. “I just dropped him home,”

Erin was surprised that Jay had been up and moving that early, but also thankful that his new partner wouldn’t be around to witness her homecoming. “Where is ‘home’?” Erin’s heart broke as she had to ask that question.

“Oh, um… your old place,” Upton said quietly.

Tears filled Erin’s eyes at Upton’s admission. “Hold on,” she choked out, before bringing the phone away from her ear and leaning up to the driver’s seat. “Can you change the destination?” The older man nodded, and Erin gave him her old address.

“Thanks,” Erin replaced the phone near her mouth. “And I mean for everything, Hailey. I’m really glad he’s had you these past few months,”

“I don’t think I was much help, I mean-“

“No, Hailey. I promise you were. Thank you,” Erin hung up the phone quickly as tears cascaded down her face once again. She looked out the window, and the familiar buildings whizzing by did nothing to calm her waterworks.

After what felt like forever, Erin’s Uber arrived in front of her old apartment. Even though it had been the longest car ride of her life, she had absolutely no idea what she was going to say. Or how Jay was even going to react to seeing her face. He might not even give her a chance to say a word.

“Thank you,” Erin rasped to the driver as she collected her bags and made her way into the building she thought she’d never step foot into again. Muscle memory led her up two flights of stairs, and before she knew it she was standing in front of door 310.

She took a deep breath before lifting her free hand and knocking gently on the white door.

“Upton, Will, whoever the fuck you are, leave me alone!” her ex-partner’s broken rang out, and if Erin’s heart wasn’t already shattered, it was now. She knocked again, not trusting her voice.

“I swear-“ Jay’s voice got louder and Erin held her breath as she saw the door handle moving.

A second later, door was open and the two ex-partners were standing face to face for the first time in six months. Time froze as Erin took in Jay’s pale face, puffy eyes, and thinning body. Without even thinking, she pushed her way into the apartment and dropped her bags into the middle of the floor and immediately threw her hands around Jay’s neck, engulfing him in a hug. He didn’t fight it, and within seconds Erin felt his hot tears on her neck.

“Hey,” she whispered, her own voice nearly lost in her own tears. She brought one hand up to the nape of his neck, while the other hand began to rub up and down his back. “It’s okay.”

It was silent for a long time, aside for both of their cries. At some point, Jay’s arms encased her, and Erin wasn’t sure how long she stood there rubbing his back as his tears soaked her shirt, but she never wanted it to end. He was so vulnerable in this moment and Erin felt like she was actually able to protect him from the world, and it was all she wanted to do. She knew the second he pulled away, he might very well scream and punch a wall and kick her out.

Eventually the tears stopped, and Erin knew that words were finally coming. She pressed a kiss to Jay’s cheek before pulling back to meet his eyes again. She stayed silent, willing him to speak first and lead where this conversation was going to go.

She expected anger, and yelling, and blame. She was ready for screams and banging and everything that she deserved. She didn’t get that, and her heart almost stopped when she heard his first words.

“I needed you,” he whispered hoarsely, causing a new batch of tears to spill out of her eyes. “I needed you so bad, Erin, and you weren’t there.”

“I am so sorry,” she choked out. “I am so, so sorry. What happened?”

“Everything,” Jay said weakly. Realizing they were still standing near the doorway, he turned to walk to the couch, willing Erin to follow, and she did.

Sitting down on the couch next to him, Erin took a deep breath and wiped her eyes “Talk to me,” she said gently.

Jay sighed. He’d imagined this moment; he’d pictured her coming back to Chicago so many times. Every time he thought about it, he imagined it going differently. Sometimes he yelled at her. He told her how fucked up it was that she left without so much as a goodbye, and he told her about his mother’s ring, and that all she ever did was run from her problems. Sometimes he was just so damn happy to see her face again. He told her how much he missed her, and how much he still loved her, and how everything was so damn wrong without her. Sometimes he was relieved. Sometimes he was terrified. And this time? Now that it was actually happening? His mind was racing. He was pissed, that she just showed up here and barged back in and thought she had the right to know what was going on in his life. He was thankful to see her face and be in her embrace and feel like for the first time in over six months, something was going right. He was confused about how she got here and how she knew he needed her.

“You left,” he whispered.

Erin nodded. “It’s the biggest regret of my life,”

“Why did you leave, Erin? I was trying to get better for you, and I was going to come home. I was trying so hard. I know I should have told you about Abby and the nightmares and-“

“Jay,” Erin said, her voice firmer than it had been all morning. “Do not put this on you. I did not leave because of you. You were the only thing keeping me here. I was in love with you, Jay. I still am in love with you, and leaving was the biggest mistake of my life. I…I put my mom before myself, again, and look where it got me. There’s your answer. I left to help Bunny. Hank made a deal with the FBI. I work for them in New York, they let her go. None of it was your fault, you have to believe that,”

“Er,” Jay’s head began to spin at the new information, but Erin interrupted him before he could speak again.

“No more about me. At least not right now. Please tell me what’s wrong, Jay,” Against her better judgment, Erin moved closer on the couch and placed a hand on his arm.

“Everything,” he repeated. “I shot a little girl, Erin. I killed an innocent, eight year old child. And it just brought me right fucking back there. And now I’m stuck there. I can’t close my fucking eyes anymore. I thought it was bad when Abby came back? That was nothing compared to this. And even though I didn’t show it, I knew that I had you to turn to if I needed to. But now? I don’t know what to do anymore. I don’t know if I can do it anymore. I don’t want to do it anymore.”

“I’m so sorry,” Erin repeated for what felt like the hundredth time that morning. Her thoughts flashed back to the boy she’d shot months ago, and how his face haunted her dreams for weeks. Jay had been the only thing that got her through that, and she wasn’t there to do the same for him. “You’re not there. You are here, and you are doing so much good for so many people. You keep this city safe and you save so many lives daily, Jay. There are so many people who are so thankful for you, and so proud of you.”

“It doesn’t feel that way,” Jay shook his head. “If I didn’t do this, that girl would still be alive. Her mom would get to see her fall in love, and go to prom, and graduate high school,”

“Hey,” Erin squeezed his arm. “You can’t think like that. If you weren’t here, how many criminals would still be out there? How many innocent people would have died at the hands of the awful people you’ve taken off the streets?”

“I don’t know what to do anymore, Er,” Jay made eye contact with her for the first time since their serious talk had begun.

“When’s the last time you slept?” Erin asked, getting the idea that he was done talking. She had never seen eyes so bloodshot, or bags as big as the ones under Jay’s eyes.

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly.

“Come on,” she said softly, standing up and reaching for Jay’s hand. She led him through the familiar apartment with ease, pretending not to notice how everything was so different, but also the same as it was six months ago. They entered the bedroom and Erin wasn’t surprised to see the bed neatly made, despite everything. “Lay down,” she instructed.

Jay obliged, pulling the covers back and getting in on the left side of the bed, the side that had always been his side. Erin followed him to the side, pulling the blanket back up over him and leaning down to press her lips to his forehead, even though she knew she shouldn’t. As she turned to walk out of the room, he reached out and grabbed her wrist.

“Stay in here. Please,” Jay wasn’t above begging. He still didn’t know what his emotions towards Erin were at this moment, but he knew that he had never slept as well as he did with that girl beside him.

Erin nodded immediately, walking around to the other side of the bed and slipping her sneakers off before crawling under the covers. Like a magnet, her body curled into Jay’s as his head fell into the crook of her neck and she began her ministrations on his back again.

“Go to sleep,” she murmured into his ear. “I got you,”

At the sound of her saying those three words he never thought he’d hear again, Jay drifted off to his first dreamless sleep in as long as he could remember. For the first time in over six months, he knew Erin Lindsay would be there when he woke up. He didn’t know what would happen after that, but he knew she would be there. And that was enough for now.

#linstead fanfiction

60 notes · View notes

sitkowskiryan · 7 years ago

Text

the gender reveal. tyler x reader.

requests are always open!

There was no way to accurately describe what it feels like to be up on stage in front of thousands of fans screaming your lyrics back at you. It was insane and better than any drug. Granted Tyler Joseph did not know too much about the feelings you experience under the influence of drugs. He had only smoked marijuana once and it was horrible because he had felt pressured into it. He still remembers how the smoke burned his throat. He never understood how people could want to do that every day.

He smirked hearing the fans screaming the lyrics to Holding on to You back to him. He did his little dance on the top of the piano before jumping down and grabbing his microphone once more to finish out the song. He enjoyed being on stage, despite sweating up a storm and the burn in his chest whenever he sung for too long. He enjoyed going out into the fans and feeling them hold his hands for dear life, as if he was the one thing holding them to Earth. For all he knew, he could be. That power scared him and amazed him.

People looked to him to help them. To them, Twenty One Pilots, and Tyler had cried multiple times during late nights over tweets and Instagram posts of fans who could not hold on longer or that were struggling. He wanted to help all of them, but he knew he could not. It was one of the bad things about being a celebrity.

Another bad thing was lack of privacy. Josh and Tyler did not really experience this since they shared most of their lives with their fans and whatever they did not share their fans respected. Like his marriage to you. Two years ago he had married one of his best friends, Y/N, and now he was expecting his first baby with you. He could not have been happier about being a daddy. It did not stop the clique from continuing to call him their mother and Josh their father. It just meant another little skeleton to care for. Tyler could actually do something if they were hurting however, he could not be there physically for all of his little skeletons and josh’s aliens.

“That is what I am talking about Columbus!” He called into the microphone, hearing Josh banging on the drums behind him. Anticipation ran through both men and the crew. Tonight was a special night; the fans just did not know why yet. “How many of you know of my beautiful wife Y/N?” Screams echoed through the stadium as Tyler looked back at his wife on the sidelines. She was swollen like a balloon, but he would never say that to her. He appreciated his bits connected to his body and because she was not fat. She was glowing.

Tyler held his hands up to calm the screaming clique and smiled goofily, the same smile he always had on whenever he thought of his wife. “And that she is pregnant?” He continued, his grin widening at not only the screams, but over his healthy wife and baby. He was so excited and nervous, but he knew that whatever happens he will love his wife only more.

“Amazing! So some background, Y/N is around five months pregnant so she knows the gender of our baby,” fans started to scream as if they knew what he was going to say, making him chuckle into the microphone. “Josh and I, however, do not know the gender and so Y/N asked if I wanted to know and my only reply was that we were going to be in Columbus in a week,” he continued his story, his hands trembling, but not in fear or anxiety as they usually did. It was happiness that caused him to shake and his vision to blur with happy tears. Gone were the days of sad tears.

“Y/N has been watching those gender reveal videos and decided that it would be fun to tell the gender that way. What better way than with our hometown clique?” The screams grew deafening; Tyler was lucky he had earplugs in or he would be deaf surely. He could feel the tears pooling in his eyes, but they did not fall yet. “Drumroll Josh?” He asked, looking towards the ceiling where their normal red confetti would fall at the end of the show. It was filled with pink or blue this time. The gender of his baby. He let the drums wash over his bodies as the confetti dropped in a matter of seconds.

His eyes caught blue and he could not stop the tears from falling, hiding his face in his hands. He was having a boy! He could barely breathe. A beautiful healthy baby boy. He felt arms wrap around him and he tightened his arms around Josh’s waist, hiding his face in the older man’s shoulder. The shouts of the fans however caught his attention.

“Pink!” Was chanted by the fans long enough for Tyler to turn to look at the fans to see for a fact that pink confetti had fallen along with the blue. He scrunched his eyebrows up at it, not understanding what it meant. He looked over at his wife, beckoning her to his side so she could explain. He wrapped his arm around her waist, hand pressed protectively against her bump that housed his baby, boy or girl he did not know or really care. He loved them.

“Which is it?” He asked softly, his voice cracked and rough from singing and crying. He handed you the microphone, love and adoration clear on his face as he stared down at you.

“No mistake. It is both!” You smiled happily, hearing the fans scream happily while Tyler and Josh tried to understand what you said. The drummer got it first, his eyes widening and he looked at Tyler expectantly. The chestnut haired man wracked his brain for answers, before it hit him. Twins. He was having twins. You lit up watching as realization crossed over Tyler’s face.

The singer swept you into his arms and kissed you happily, one hand against your cheek and the other on your stomach. He pulled away gently and rested his forehead against yours. Brown eyes stared back into yours and you two were infinite. The screams of fans were gone, the world outside of you two was gone.

Reaching up to stroke his cheek, you let a few tears slip down your cheeks. “I am so proud of you Tyler Joseph,” you whispered, hugging him close. He held you just as tight, as if you would disappear if he let go.

“Thank you,” he whispered to you, pressing one more kiss to your temple before letting you go backstage. He grabbed his bass and smiled at Josh before placing his microphone in the stand in front of him. “This is one is called Ride,” Tyler announced into the microphone. Screams started once more with the drums and bass. Tyler’s fingers moved along his bass and his lips sung the words that he knew in his sleep. His mind however was one his baby, babies. All three of them, you and his two unborn babies. He supposes he should make it four babies for Josh, but he could not ruin the Joshler shippers’ hearts. A smile slipped on the singers face as he sung the chorus of the song. He had come a long way and it was surely worth it.

---

i hope you guys like this! i had this thought last night at like three in the morning after spending most of the night sick and in a laundry mat and i just needed to write this!

requests are always open so if you like these, i can write more for what you would like to see!

- courtney xoxox

11 notes · View notes

dracusfyre · 7 years ago

Text

Love and War

Another Winteriron Tumblr prompt fill! From and for @imaginetonyandbucky

Original Prompt: age-reversal au; tony is 21 when obie finally lets him run lead on his first weapons demo, while at the army base, he makes friends with seal team sniper Bucky. Explicit Sexual Content Ahoy. (9k words)

Also on AO3

“Who’s the bigwig that gets his own helicopter ride all the way out here?” Bucky asked as he scanned the sky for the lights of the incoming Apache. “Even the colonel had to wait for the Wednesday circular.”

“It’s Tony Stark with a box of goodies for us to test out,” Dugan answered, his contraband cigar an orange glow in the darkness.

“And Tony Stark is…?”

“Tony Stark is like the Bill Gates of guns and bombs.” Bucky heard Dugan’s feet crunch on the gravel as he moved closer and blew out a cloud of smoke. “Word is he’s got a fancy new sniper rifle he’s trying to sell the Army.”

“Well that explains why I’ve been assigned to be his babysitter,” Bucky said in resignation. He lowered the binoculars; the chopper would be coming in dark until it was almost on top of the base anyway, so it would be better to stop talking and listen for the sound of the blades. “How long is he going to be here?”

“His outgoing itinerary hasn’t been scheduled yet, so I guess however long it takes.” His voice had a ‘better you than me’ tone in it that made Bucky want to rip that cigar out of his mouth and stomp on it. It was bad enough when the higher ups foist a well-meaning journalist on them; usually the problem there was to keep them from climbing over the walls in search of a story. But what in the hell was a rich old man doing way the hell out here? FOB Obelisk was a tiny special ops base in the mountains of Afghanistan that had maybe thirty people on base at any given time. The food sucked, the entertainment was worse, and now Bucky was going to have to try to keep him entertained and try to figure out how to tell him that his fancy new sniper rifle wasn’t worth the metal it was made of without getting drummed out of the army.

“Did I fuck somebody’s sister or something? Why did the shit have to roll down this particular hill?” Bucky kicked at the gravel in frustration. “It’s not like my opinion is going to make a difference. Someone’s going to give a briefcase of money to someone with a star on their collar and the Army’s going to have 15,000 new rifles it doesn’t need.”

Behind them a corporal stuck his head out the door of the transpo HQ. “Incoming,” he said, and then Bucky could hear the chopper blades. Lights came on just long enough to bring the helicopter down and ruin Bucky’s night vision while the blades kicked up dust and gravel as they whined to a stop. Bucky turned on the red bulb of his flashlight as he heard the door slide open.

“Mr. Stark?” Bucky shouted as loud as he dared as he approached. Thankfully the pilot killed the engine and he could hear again.

“Working on it,” a voice said from the dimly lit interior of the helicopter. The only passenger was struggling with the six-point harness, his helmet sitting on the seat beside him. He glanced up at Bucky, hair falling across his forehead. Bucky stared at the long lashes, the straight nose, and the stubble along a sharp jaw and his brain froze.

“Be right back,” he said, stupidly, and he turned around to where Dugan was watching him with interest. “That’s Tony Stark?”

“Should be.” Dugan stepped onto the helicopter skids to peer inside. “Yeah, that’s him. Why?”

“Can he even drive?” Bucky hissed, feeling a little hysterical. Almost six months with only his right hand for company, and now his job was to chaperone this walking wet dream? “I was expecting a rich old white guy, like, I dunno, Bill Gates.”

“Dude his parents died like, just a few months ago. He got control of the company when he turned twenty-one.”

“And when was that? Yesterday?” Bucky ran a hand over his face and tried to get his shit together. He looked back into the helicopter and almost got a face full of Tony Stark’s duffel bag.

“It was quite a few months ago, actually,” he said as he jumped down onto the gravel. The red light of Bucky’s flashlight gave a weird tone to his skin and the bulky flak jacket was not flattering on anyone, but it didn’t disguise the quirk of his lips as he smiled and held out a hand. Jesus Christ, that mouth, Bucky thought helplessly as he took it. “Tony Stark, genius billionaire playboy. And arms dealer, I guess.”

“Sergeant James Barnes, but everyone calls me Bucky,” Bucky said. “This is Sergeant Timothy Dugan, better known as Dum Dum. Is this all you’ve got?” Bucky said, nudging the duffel bag with his foot.

“Careful, I’ve got grenades in there,” Tony said, and Bucky and Dugan both blanched and took a step back. “Not really. All the toys are in those.” He pointed to the gorilla boxes the copilot and the flight line corporal were carrying into the transpo HQ. Stooping, he grabbed the bag and threw it over his shoulder. “If possible, I’d like a shower and a hamburger, in that order.”

Bucky checked the time. “If you’ll follow me, I can get you a shower but midnight chow doesn’t start for another hour.”

Tony shrugged philosophically. “Lead on.”

In the short walk from the flight line to housing Bucky managed to convince himself that he could play it cool for a few days. Just because he’s been stuck out here on this tiny fucking base for five months with only a couple of days R&R at a slightly bigger base a hundred miles away wasn’t a reason to lose his self-control over a mouth that looked like it was made for sin. Didn’t he tell off a specialist for coming on to a female contractor just last week? He was way too old to be led around by his dick.

Bucky was feeling good about that pep talk as he went up the stairs to the housing office to get the keys to Tony’s CHU. He missed a step going back down the stairs when he realized that Tony was going to be right next door to him, but he shook that off too because he was a professional goddammit.

“Alright, here’s your home away from home,” Bucky said as he turned on the obnoxious fluorescent lighting and dropped the sheets, blanket, and towel on the bare mattress. Since it was a guest room it was pretty bare bones; someone had left a rug and a lamp behind when they shipped out, but other than that it was a long, metal rectangular room with all the charm and style of a high school locker. The bed was a metal frame with a mattress the thickness of your average dictionary; when they got here his unit had fought over the good mattresses until all the busted ones had ended up in the unoccupied CHUs. Like this one. For a brief moment Bucky felt self-conscious about it until Tony stepped around him to throw his duffle bag on the floor and start unfastening the flak vest with the loud rip of Velcro.

Bucky stared as Tony pulled his sweatshirt over his head, leaving him in a sweat soaked black tank that clung to the long lean lines of Tony’s back and revealed his slim but muscled shoulders and the cargo pants that were about to fall off his skinny hips.

Bucky started to sweat.

Tony grabbed a towel and threw it over his shoulder, looking at Bucky expectantly. “Shower?”

“Sure,” he said automatically, and felt his face get hot. “I mean, it’s…” He went out the door so he didn’t have to see that amused, knowing look in Tony’s eyes. “It’s right there,” he said, pointing to another of the ubiquitous rectangular buildings that made up the whole base. The stairs were barely lit up enough to keep you from tripping over it, but you could see the universal symbols for shower and toilet on the door.

“You’re not going to stay?” Tony asked and Bucky’s brain went blank for a moment. “To take me to midnight chow?”

“Right, uh, well my CHU is that one so I’ll just come back in a hour and take you over there.” Bucky made a hasty escape and banged his head against his door in frustration when he closed it behind him. “Get a grip, asshole,” he said and threw himself on the bed, reaching for his zipper. He had an hour to jerk off enough that he could look Tony in the eyes without acting like an oversexed sailor on shore leave.

Tony blew out a long breath as he turned on the shower, debating whether he wanted to take a cold one after laying eyes on James Barnes in the bright light of his room. Pale grey eyes, thick silky hair he wanted bury his hands in, and a body Tony wanted to climb like a jungle gym wrapped in an army uniform? For a moment, Tony’d had a crazy thought that he’d wandered into a porn movie and was just waiting for the 80s techno music to start.

And the look in his eyes when Tony had turned around in just his undershirt? Tony smirked as he stepped under the slightly above room temperature spray. He’d bet half of Stark Industries Bucky was rubbing one out right now. Digging out his soap, Tony wondered what Bucky was thinking about. Maybe surprising him here in the shower and crowding him against the wall of this rinky dink stall, letting the water soak through that tight brown shirt as he lifted Tony up to wrap his legs around his waist, holding him up with those thickly muscled thighs that the army fatigues did not disguise at all. Bucky could pin him against the wall while he fingered him open and bit marks across his shoulders.

Tony braced himself against the wall of the shower and wrapped his hand around his cock, stroking himself quickly. When they were ready, Bucky could just pick him up and lower him right onto his dick, and Tony would tangle his fingers in Bucky’s dog tags as he held on for the ride. Was Bucky a talker during sex, winding him up with praise and filthy suggestions about what he would do to him when they were in a real bed? Tony bit his bicep to stifle a moan, not sure how far sound would carry around here, and stroked himself faster. Maybe Bucky was the take charge type and would pin his hands against the shower stall, watching him with those cool grey eyes and daring him to come untouched.

His climax punched out of him at the thought and he grunted with the unexpected force of it. He shivered as he stroked himself just past the point of oversensitivity and made sure his hand was clean before he wiped the water from his face.

Oh yeah. Bucky Barnes just went to the top of Tony’s to-do list before he left Afghanistan.

Bucky blessed the darkness when he went to pick up Tony for midnight chow because he knew he was blushing from having come twice imagining that wide, mobile mouth wrapped around his dick. Thankfully it faded by the time they got to the DFAC and Bucky got to introduce Tony to the wide variety of food available on a tiny base in the middle of the night.

“Burgers and bagels,” Tony repeated. “Well I did ask for a burger.”

“Welcome to FOB Ob,” Bucky said cheerfully, and started filling up his tray.

“So what is there to do here?” Tony asked when he sat down across from Bucky in the surprisingly busy DFAC. Everyone was eyeing Tony curiously since he was the only one not in uniform but so far no one had come up to them, which Bucky knew would change as soon as someone from his unit showed up. Honestly, he was surprised that Dugan hadn’t rounded them all up just to give Bucky a hard time.

“Well, we have a gym, the MWR has most of a game of chess and a stack of VHS tapes, and…” Bucky trailed off, thinking hard. “Sometimes we get nice sunsets. Oh, and we shoot people.”

“Charming,” Tony said dryly as he bit into his hamburger. Bucky had to look down at his plate quickly when Tony started licking a trail of grease off his hand and just like that, an hour’s worth of hard-on work, wasted.

“Yeah, we gotta make our own fun around here. Tomorrow – well, later on today,” Bucky amended, looking at his watch, “is an unsanctioned poker night with the guys in my unit. If that’s not your thing, I think they’re doing karaoke night at the MWR.”

“What time am I getting up to meet the brass?”

“They didn’t tell you?” Bucky patted down his pockets until he found the printout. He took a toothpick from the center of the table and put it between his teeth while he skimmed it. “You have a meeting with Lieutenant Rogers at 1000, break for lunch, then looks like you’re going to sit down with me and the other Howlies to show us all these pretty toys we’re going to try out for you.” Bucky slid the paper across the table and caught Tony staring at his mouth. Smirking, he tossed his toothpick on his tray. “Sorry, we’re discouraged from smoking out here and it has left me with a bit of an oral fixation.”

“You don’t say,” Tony said mildly, lips quirking when he met Bucky’s eyes. Then he surprised himself with a jaw-cracking yawn that brought tears to his eyes.

“Come on, I’ll take you back to your room.” Bucky stood and cleaned off their trays. “Chow starts at 0800, so if you want breakfast you’ll probably want to set an alarm. Don’t know if you noticed, but the CHUs don’t have windows so it stays dark as shit in there. And there’s no insulation, so it’s going to be chilly if you don’t remember to turn on the heat before you go to bed.”

Tony fumbled with the unfamiliar keys before he got his door open . “Thanks for all your help, Bucky. Sure you don’t want to come inside and, um, help me figure out the heater?”

It was too dark to really see the look on Tony’s face, but he could imagine the dare in his eyes because it was certainly there in his voice. Sparks lit up Bucky’s inside like fireworks but then Tony yawned again, swaying slightly. “You’re the genius billionaire, I think you can figure it out,” Bucky said with a wide grin. “Get some sleep, and we’ll see if you still need help with it tomorrow.”

Eight hours later, Bucky was rudely interrupted from taking care of his morning wood by someone banging on his door. “Just a minute!” he shouted, grabbing his BDU pants and pulling them on over his boxers, wincing a bit as he had to tuck his erection behind his zipper.

“What?” He said irritably, opening his door and angling his body so hopefully his visitor wouldn’t notice – oh, it was Tony. With a slightly evil grin, Bucky leaned against the doorframe, successfully rendering Tony speechless for at least a moment as his eyes traveled over Bucky’s bare chest, down to his groin and then flew back up to his face.

“Really?” Tony said. “Do you always answer the door like this?”

“What?” Bucky put on his best innocent look and glanced down, as if not even noticing the hard line of his cock against the zipper of his fatigues. “I put on pants. On this base, anyone who’d be knocking on my door this time of morning has probably already seen me naked at some point or another. Except you, of course.”

“Yeah, except me,” Tony echoed and his eyes drifted south of Bucky’s belly button and went far away for a second.

Bucky would have bet money that whatever was crossing his mind at that moment was probably the plot to a cheesy porno and shit, now he was thinking about it too, and that was not helping the fit of his pants. He cleared his throat. “What do you need?”

Tony raised an eyebrow and raked his gaze back down Bucky’s body, all the way down to his bare feet, and then back up. He leaned slightly around Bucky to look at his bed suggestively. “Ready to teach me how to use the heater yet?”

God, yes. Bucky’s hand tightened on the doorframe as he fought the urge to drag Tony inside his room and kiss that suggestive smirk off his face. “Well the thing is,” Bucky drawled, “you only have about thirty minutes before you have to meet with the LT. And when I start a project, like showing you the AC, I like to be really…thorough and make sure the job is done right.”

Tony swallowed. “And thirty minutes isn’t enough time?”

“Nope. So what did you really come over here for?”

“Oh yeah.” Tony looked down as if just now remembering he had a suit jacket draped over his arm. “For my meeting with Rogers, would you say he would respond better to a suit or something more casual?”

For a split second Tony looked incredibly young and unsure and Bucky’s heart squeezed. He waved a hand at what Tony was already wearing, a long sleeved henley and khaki pants. “Rogers is a no bullshit kind of guy. I’d skip the suit.”

“Thanks,” Tony said with a small smile. His eyes dropped to Bucky’s mouth and he ran his tongue over his lower lip, and Bucky ached to pull him up the stairs to follow its path with his own tongue.

But. “Believe me, I want whatever you’re thinking about and more,” he said in a low voice, shaking his head slightly. Glancing around, he saw that they were alone – most people would be sleeping until at least noon, having run operations all night – but the sun was a glaring presence in the sky, illuminating all the different shades of brown and grey that made up FOB Ob, and Bucky hadn’t made it in the Army this long by being reckless. “But if we get caught, Rogers wouldn’t have any choice but to drum me out of the country and out of the Army.”

Tony nodded and took a step back. “I get it. I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah, later.” Bucky did, however, let himself watch Tony walk away before he closed the door to his CHU.

***

When it came time to meet Bucky and the rest of the Howlies down at the range, Bucky was impressed to find that Tony was all business, sleeves already rolled up and hands stained with gun oil as he unpacked the gorilla boxes. All the fancy new toys were lined up on a table at the back of the range and the guys started making cooing noises as they saw them.

Tony worked his way down the line of weapons and explained where the Stark model differed from what the Army currently used, hands deftly taking the weapons apart to make a point before reassembling them like it was second nature. Bucky found himself staring at Tony’s calloused hands, long-fingered and dexterous, with narrow palms and slim wrists and scarred knuckles. Not, he imagined, the hands of your average billionaire.

For his part, Tony didn’t seem to notice Bucky’s distraction because he was explaining something to Dernier, switching to flawless French when he noticed that the liaison was struggling with the more technical English terminology. Bucky must have made an interesting face at that because Dugan caught his eye and made a swooning gesture behind Tony’s back. Scowling, Bucky gave him the finger and turned away to start loading magazines.

***

Later on that night, after dinner, Tony heard a knock on his door. It took so long to untangle himself from his electronics that the knock came again, more hesitantly. He finally got to the door after tripping over a charger cable, smiling when he saw Bucky on the other side.

“Hey,” Tony said with his most charming smile, leaning against the door to hide the chaos of his room. “What’s up?”

“Poker night got canceled for a mission,” Bucky said, glancing around the darkened area to make sure he was alone. “I thought I’d stop by for some luck. Can I come inside?”

“Sure,” Tony backed up to let him inside. Bucky looked around and just quirked his lips and raised an eyebrow to see the mess; one side looked like a closet exploded and the other was full of electronics. “So, luck, huh?”

“Yeah,” Bucky said, curling one hand around the back of Tony’s neck, stroking the thin skin under his ear with his thumb. Tony shivered at the touch, and the quirk of his lips widened into a smile. “Maybe a kiss or something?”

“I think I can do that.” Tony hooked his fingers into the belt loops of Bucky’s fatigues and pulled him closer. Bucky dipped his head and brushed his lips over Tony’s, breath ghosting out with the smell of his after-dinner mint and coffee. Then came Bucky’s tongue, lightly touching Tony’s bottom lip with little kitten licks. Tony didn’t realize he was holding his breath, wound up by Bucky’s teasing, until Bucky finally covered his mouth with his own and he let out a long exhale. He felt Bucky smile and bit his lip in retaliation, feeling victorious when Bucky’s breath hitched. Bucky’s other hand came up and then he was framing Tony’s face with those big, capable hands, calloused and smelling faintly of gun oil, holding him in place while he took him apart with his mouth. He was being so careful, so controlled, like he was afraid he was going to scare Tony away and all Tony wanted to do was to see what happened when he got pushed beyond that control. He wanted Bucky to shove him up against the wall, a knee between his thighs, rutting against him fast and hard.

But he knew without saying that now wasn’t that time, because Bucky was already pulling back with a few last lingering kisses, the final one pressed against the corner of his mouth. Tony opened his eyes and saw Bucky smiling at him, still cradling his face in his hands. “Hey, handsome,” Bucky murmured. “I gotta go, but I’ll see you tomorrow, ok?”

“Yeah. It’s going to take all night?”

“I don’t know. But we’re going to take some of your gear out, so I’ll let you know how it does.”

Bucky still had his hands on his face, so Tony covered them with one of his own. “Will it be dangerous, your mission tonight?”

“Nah,” Bucky shrugged. “Besides, I’m like, a level five Paladin so I’m practically invincible.” Bucky knew he’d fucked up when Tony’s eyes got wide.

“You,” Tony accused after a breathless moment, “are a nerd.” The joyful revelation in his voice made Bucky roll his eyes.

“You,” Bucky countered, “knew what I was talking about. And I’m a geek, not a nerd.” He dropped his hands and started heading towards the door, Tony right on his heels.

“Who’s your DM? Who’s your supplier, Bucky? Are you in a game right now? Are you really a Paladin?” Tony was poking him in the ribs until Bucky turned around and shut him up with another hungry kiss.

“I didn’t make it through SERE school to give up my secrets to a pretty face,” Bucky said with a smile, opening up the door behind him with one hand. “Not that easily.”

“I have ways of making you talk!” Tony shouted after him as Bucky disappeared into the darkness.

***

Hours later, Bucky paced a bit in front of Tony’s trailer, debating the wisdom of knocking on the door again because on the one hand, it’s like four in the morning and most people would be asleep by now, but on the other hand, Tony’s light was on. But on the other other hand, he doesn’t want to seem needy and weird, but –

At that point Tony yanks the door open and the light from inside made Bucky squint. “I can hear you walking on the gravel,” Tony pointed out. “Why didn’t you just knock?”

Trying to explain his headspace right now would take too long and would definitely sound stupid, so instead Bucky just said, “we just got back and I’m too wired to be in my room right now. Want to go for a walk?”

“Sure.” Tony stepped into his shoes right by the door, not even bothering to lace them up. “Where are we going?”

“Just around,” Bucky said vaguely. “I hadn’t thought that far, but it’s not like there’s a lot of options.”

“Ok.” They walked in silence for a bit, their shoes crunching loudly on the gravel. It was a nice night, an almost full moon and stars unusually clear without all the light pollution Tony was used to. He’d gotten used to the smell out here, like hot asphalt and gasoline and an odd smell that he could only describe as desert, but at this time of night the smells had actually died down and the air was something close to clean. “So how did the mission go?” Tony asked finally.

Bucky shrugged. “Fine. We had a bit of a close call, but we got him in the end. I’ll have a report to you about the gear sometime tomorrow. Why are you still awake?”

Now it was Tony’s turn to shrug, hands in his pockets. “Insomnia. Taking care of business back home. After…you know…my parents died, I all of a sudden have to make a bunch of decisions, so…”

“You don’t have any help?”

“Yeah, I mean, there’s this guy Obediah, he was my dad’s right hand man, he’s been really helpful. But in the end, it’s still Stark Industries. And I’m the last Stark.”

Bucky made an understanding noise, and then it was quiet for a while. Until Tony heard a shrill, piercing whistle, and then there was a deep roooooooaaaaaaarrrrrrr noise that split the night.

“Ah, shit.” Bucky grabbed Tony’s arm, dragging him towards a structure that was a darker shadow against the rest of the base that proved to be a bomb shelter.

“What’s happening?” Tony tried to peer out the little sliver of sky that was allowed by the concrete and sandbags of the bomb shelter. There was another high pitched shriek and Tony saw a streak of red against the night sky, but he listened hard and didn’t hear any impact.

“Indirect fire,” Bucky said shortly, rolling his eyes. “Just gotta wait it out.” After a while there were no more shrieks or streaks, so Tony leaned against the wall of the bomb shelter, close enough that Bucky was a line of warmth against his left side.

“How long do we wait?”

“Until they give the all clear.” It was too dark to see Bucky’s face, but after a moment Tony felt Bucky’s arm around his shoulder, pulling him in close. Smiling, Tony snaked his arm around Bucky’s back and felt lips press against his temple in return. Tony turned and lifted his head so the lips met his own, just a little off center. Bucky made an amused chuck and settled against the wall of the bunker, tugging until Tony was between his legs. They kissed there, lazily, tongues curling together, hips grinding like they were teenagers on their parents’ couch. Bucky slid his hands into the back of Tony’s pants and cupped his ass, a low groan rumbling through his chest. Tony heard his head hit the back of the concrete wall. “You know what they say about snipers?”

“I don’t, actually. What do they say?”

“Dammit, I was hoping you knew. I haven’t been a sniper for long and nobody’s told me yet.” Tony dropped his head against Bucky’s collarbone and shook his head, feeling Bucky shake under him with laughter. “Seriously, though, my job is to cover my team’s asses, right? Which means I’m a great shot, and,” Bucky squeezed his ass and made a deep throated unf sound, “a connoisseur of fine asses.”

“And?” Tony really wished he could see Bucky’s face. His hands searched for skin under Bucky’s shirt, but it was tucked too tightly into his pants, so he settled for tucking his head into Bucky’s neck.

“Well, I haven’t had a good look yet, have I? But I can say that feels perfect. Like it’s made to fit my hands.” He squeezed again and rocked their hips together. “Hey, guess what,” he whispered into Tony’s ear.

“What?” Tony whispered back.

“I like you.”

“Yeah?” Tony grinned stupidly and rubbed his nose against the slightly stubbled underside of Bucky’s jaw, feeling warm inside. Bucky’s hands were just resting on his ass, squeezing sometimes but mostly seeming content to just cup them instead of wandering anywhere interesting and it was oddly…soothing.

“Yeah. You were great on the range today, handling all those weapons like a pro. How many languages do you speak, anyway?”

“Three. You?”

Bucky snorted a laugh and tipped his head down for a kiss. “Well, I can speak enough Pashto and Dari to get by, but I’m not going to be explaining how changing the composite metal of a rifle bore affects rifling and accuracy.”

Tony shrugged self-consciously. “It was part of one of my masters’ theses.”

“One of, the man says.” Bucky slid his hands out of Tony’s pants and ran them up his sides, dragging his shirt up as his fingers trailed over the bumps of his ribs. Then his thumbs were rubbing circles over Tony��s nipples and Tony was gasping against Bucky’s mouth.

“Jesus, Bucky.” His hands tightened on Bucky’s waist and his hips surged forward, seeking friction against the hard length of Bucky’s erection. “For the record, I like you too.”

“Good.” Bucky was still tracing circles around his nipples, giving them only the briefest of touches. His hands were so warm, making the rest of Tony feel both chilled and feverish at the same time. Tony shivered and made a sound deep in his throat. “Want to go on a date with me?”

“This doesn’t count?” Tony asked, incredulous. He was like four or five serious strokes away from orgasm and this didn’t even count as a date?

“This is an IDF bunker, I can do better than this,” Bucky said, sounding affronted. “We may be in the middle of Afghanistan but I do have some standards.” He had abandoned Tony’s nipples and now had a grip on Tony’s hip, encouraging him to ride the thick line of his thigh.

“Sure, yeah, sounds great,” Tony said breathlessly as he let Bucky set the rhythm, giving up all sense of propriety and chasing his release. He fisted his hand in Bucky’s hair, the other on Bucky’s shoulder for balance. When he tugged on Bucky’s hair he earned himself a surprised “fuck” and then Bucky’s mouth was crashing down on his.

“Come on, come for me,” Bucky whispered against his mouth. “I want to hear the sounds you make.” Right now the only noises Tony could manage were panting breaths, so close that his hips were stuttering. Then Bucky brought one hand around to the front of his pants, rubbing hard and that was it, sparks flew behind Tony’s eyelids and he came with a long hitching moan. Bucky was murmuring “yeah, that’s it, get it,” in his ear, pressing kisses along his jaw as he came down.

Finally Tony slumped against him, boneless, skin still humming. Bucky’s erection was still a hard line against his hip, but he seemed content to just hold Tony instead of finishing, forehead resting against Tony’s temple. “So I heard there was a lunar eclipse tomorrow night, want to get dinner and watch it with me?”

“Is this the Afghanistan version of Netflix and chill?” Tony asked lazily, still leaning heavily against Bucky. He brought one hand up to run his thumb against the underside of Bucky’s dick, smiling when he heard Bucky’s grunt of pleasure. “Want some help with this?”

Tony could feel Bucky wavering and his mouth started watering at the idea of getting his mouth on that cock, ready to feel the hot weight of it on his tongue, and then Bucky was pulling his hand away and kissing his palm. “Next time.”

***

Tony spent much of the next day hunched over his computer while periodically wandering circles around the small, very boring base – he found the MWR Bucky had mentioned and it was just as dismal as he’d described, only with a lot more second-hand and second-rate political thrillers and mysteries stacked on every available surface. He also wandered by the motor pool and got the bored PFC on duty to show him the vehicles that the soldiers used when they went outside the wire; the armor on them was a rush job if he’d ever seen one, the unreinforced axles of the HMVs groaning under the extra weight. In his head he started immediately composing an email to Obediah to put together a proposal to the DoD because he could do a better job than this just using the spare metal he had around the lab. He found the gym along with most of the inhabitants of the FOB and managed to kill some time on the treadmill, trying to lift weights until he got bored with it. After lunch and showering, Tony thought optimistically that it would at least be three or four o’clock, but when he saw that it was barely after noon he groaned and collapsed on his bed, staring up at the cheap metal ceiling of the CHU.

Goddammit it was going to take forever for this evening to get here.

After the sun set Bucky wiped his palms on his pants and raised his hand to knock when he heard music. He leaned closer and listened for a minute, smiling when he recognized a Black Sabbath song. Smiling, he knocked on the door and said “Housekeeping!”

“Just a minute!” Tony shouted. “JARVIS, music off.” After a moment the door swung open and Tony was stepping back to let Bucky inside. “Hey, sorry about that. Watch your feet,” he added unnecessarily; scattered across the floor in neat piles were gears and rods and other random parts to what looked like a small engine. Bucky stepped carefully to avoid knocking over one of the stacks and found himself a small clear patch of floor to stand while Tony put his shoes on.

“Who is Jarvis?”

“This computer program I’m developing to respond to voice commands.” Tony patted his pockets as if checking for his wallet then smiled when he realized all that he needed was his security badge.

“That’s amazing. That’s going to change a lot of things for people if you can get it to work.” Bucky leaned carefully over to kiss Tony.

“I hadn’t thought about that,” Tony said, looking thoughtful. “I was primarily working on developing it as an artificial intelligence.” He grabbed the closest piece of paper, already covered with equations and scribbled notes and scrawled another note in the corner.

“I definitely want to hear more about that, but first –“ Bucky dug into one of the big pockets of his fatigues and pulled out two small bottles full of dark liquid. “Can I buy you a drink?”

Tony took one of the airplane bottles of whiskey and started laughing. “You sure know how to show a guy a good time, Sergeant Barnes.”

When they got back from dinner, illicitly spiking their drinks with the contraband whiskey, Bucky led Tony behind his CHU, full of weeds and the loud humming of the AC/heating unit built into the wall. Bucky tossed a blanket up onto the roof and then boosted Tony up, hearing him walk around with loud pongs, before backing up a few steps to get a running start. When he managed to climb up he saw Tony making a face at the level of grit and grime on top of the CHU, from years and years of sandstorms and rain that never quite washed all the sand away, but Bucky just shrugged and spread out the blanket. “It’ll wash.”

He lay down and held out his arms for Tony to join him. They finally got comfortable with Tony resting his head on Bucky’s shoulder with Bucky’s arm wrapped around him, hand resting on the center of his chest. The moon was low on the horizon but full, gilding the base with silver light. Glancing up, Tony could see the dark shadows of Bucky’s eyelashes and his contented smile. “I didn’t peg you for a cuddler,” Tony murmured with a smile hidden by the darkness.

“Apparently I turn into an octopus when I sleep. I just naturally grab on to the warmest thing in bed and just,” he squeezed Tony to his chest, “hold on tight.”

“Sounds sweaty.”

“Slippery, even.”

“Greasy and slick…”

“Two wet bodies, sliding against each other…”

“Getting all…moist,” Tony said, and under his head Bucky shook with quiet laughter.

“Gross,” he said, still laughing, and then he tilted Tony’s head up for a kiss. Tony could feel the curve of his lips and taste the whiskey he’d had at dinner. Bucky’s hand slid along his jaw and then cupped the back of his neck, pulling him closer until Tony was laying half on top of him. Tony made a sound deep in his throat as Bucky tilted his head to deepen the kiss and slid his free hand into the waistband of Tony’s pants to cup his ass.

He moaned into Tony’s mouth and squeezed his ass before releasing him and pulling back from the kiss. “Jesus,” he said, breathing hard, one hand still tight on the back of Tony’s neck. Tony put a hand on Bucky’s chest and slid it down to his erection, pressing his palm against it and practically whimpering when he measured its size. Looking up, he saw that Bucky had one hand in his hair and his eyes were closed as he rolled his hips against the pressure of Tony’s hand. “Jesus Christ,” Bucky said again, and then he was pulling Tony’s hand away. That was when Tony realized he’d been practically riding Bucky’s thigh, chasing pressure for his own achingly hard erection.

Tony forced himself to roll back over onto his back, shaky with arousal. He took a deep breath and released it slowly. “You are a menace,” Bucky said under his breath. “We’re on top of a CHU for Christ’s sake.”

“That seems easily remedied. I bet I could find a video of a lunar eclipse to watch later. Much later.”

“But then you wouldn’t be here to explain how they work.”

Tony propped himself up on his elbow to peer down at Bucky in surprise and then huffed out a laugh when he saw the quirk of a grin on Bucky’s lips. “You know how eclipses work,” he muttered as he lay his head back down on Bucky’s shoulder.

“Sure, but I like hearing you explain things.”

“Take me to a bed and I’ll explain a lot of things, I promise.”

Tony heard the thunk of Bucky hitting his head against the top of the CHU. “I swear to God, you are making it difficult to be romantic.”

That had Tony sitting up again. “Is that what this is about?” He said in surprise, then lowered his voice when Bucky put a hand over his mouth. “Romance?”

“Well, yeah,” Bucky said, shrugging self-consciously. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, you’re like the sexiest thing on two legs I’ve ever seen, but you’re also insanely smart and funny and…what?” He trailed off at the look on Tony’s face.

“On two legs?”

“Oh. Yeah, well, I’ve got a black Ducati Monster at home and she will always be my first love.”

Tony’s brain went temporarily offline at the thought of Bucky on a motorcycle, wearing a leather jacket and jeans and big black combat boots, raking a hand through his hair after taking off his helmet. “You’ve got a…”

Bucky’s slow grin was perfectly filthy. “Oh, yeah. I love having all that power between my thighs, the heat and vibrations traveling up my-“

Tony effectively shut him up by throwing his leg over Bucky’s hips and grinding that perfect ass right down on Bucky’s still hard dick. Bucky’s hands flew up to his thighs to hold him still, torn between wanting to fill his hands with the tight roundness of Tony’s ass and the acute awareness that they were still on the roof of his CHU. “You’re not the only one who likes a lot of power between their thighs,” Tony murmured against his lips, rocking against him, and that was the last straw.

“Ok, ok, I give up.” Bucky lifted him off and got to his feet, adjusting his erection gingerly as he helped Tony to his feet and grabbed the blanket. “Let’s go. We’re going to fuck until we break the bed.”

“A man after my own heart,” Tony teased as they dropped down from the roof. Bucky shook his head and fumbled for his keys, checking over his shoulder for witnesses before he was shoving Tony into his room.

Tony had enough time to glance around quickly before Bucky grabbed his waist and pulled him in for a kiss that was surprisingly gentle and slow. Tony let his eyes close, losing himself in the soft, wet glide of Bucky’s mouth, shivering when his tongue licked inside. At his waist Bucky’s hands slid underneath his shirt, calloused fingertips raising goosebumps as they traveled up and down his back before they were pulling his shirt off over his head.

“Jesus, look at you,” Bucky murmured, running his hands over the lean muscles in Tony’s arms and shoulders. Tony tugged at his uniform, pulling the lapels away from each other with the loud sound of Velcro and shoving it off his shoulders. Bucky’s eyes didn’t leave Tony as he started undressing, hungry gaze running over every inch of his skin, lips parted. When he unbuckled his belt and pulled it through the belt loops the noise of it sent chills down Tony’s spine.

“Look at you,” Tony breathed, pausing as he was toeing off his shoes, staring at the sculpted muscles of Bucky’s chest and abs as he pushed his pants to the floor. He abandoned his project to get naked as fast as possible to put his hands on Bucky’s body, to see if the muscles were as firm as they looked, the skin as smooth.

It was. They were. Tony growled a bit and set his teeth into the thick muscle of Bucky’s shoulder, drawing a hiss out of him and then hands were shoving his pants down and off, sliding back up his inner thighs to cup his balls and wrap slightly cool fingers around his cock.

“Just to let you know, these walls are like, paper thin. So if you’re a screamer, try to keep it down,” Bucky said with a smirk, eyes heavy lidded and dark as he slid his fingers up Tony’s cock and rubbed a thumb over the head.

“I grew up in boarding schools, I know how to be quiet.” Tony started pushing Bucky backwards until he was sitting on the bed and then climbed into his lap. “But generally speaking, I do prefer to make noise.”

“Oh, I bet. One day,” Bucky said, wrapping his arms around Tony and turning to lay him out flat on the bed, “I hope we do this somewhere we can be as loud as we want.” He bent his head to press a kiss to Tony’s lips as he fumbled for something in a bag under the bed, pulling out a half-empty bottle of lube and a couple of condoms. For now he just set them on the table beside the bed and dedicated himself to learning Tony’s body, running his tongue over his nipples, biting the crest of his hips, licking a hot stripe along the bottom of his shaft, all while Tony writhed under his hands with bitten off whimpers.

“Come on, enough teasing,” Tony finally moaned, breathing heavily. “I feel like foreplay started as soon as I got out of the helicopter, let’s do this already.”

Bucky huffed in amusement but finally crawled back up his body to hand him the lube. “Show me how you like it,” he said, his eyes hot and dark as he settled at the foot of the bed to watch, fisting his cock as Tony raised his knees.

“And he says I’m the menace,” Tony muttered, gripping his cock tightly at the base to try to slow down. He generously lubed his fingers and tried to concentrate on giving Bucky a good show. He teased himself for a moment, tracing around his hole before sinking inside, curling his finger as he slid it in and out as he stroked his cock lightly. He was so fucking turned on that he quickly added another finger, probably too quickly, making a low sound at the slight burn of the stretch.

His eyes flew open as he felt Bucky stroke a soothing hand down his thigh, having moved up the bed a little. “You’re not ready yet, but you want my cock so bad, don’t you?” Bucky murmured, his eyes on where Tony was prepping himself. He reached out to trace the fluttering rim of his hole and Tony hissed out a breath. “One day I’m going to put my mouth right here until you are begging for something inside you.”

“F-fuck,” Tony gasped, running out of patience. “I’m ready, I swear-“ He propped himself up on his elbow to get another good look at Bucky’s cock, and then fell back on the pillow with a groan of frustration. “Ok, one more finger, then you.”

Bucky gave him a small smile, eyes still riveted on the slick thrusts of Tony’s fingers in and out of his body. Bucky’s hands were roaming over every inch of Tony’s skin that was within reach as if he were just as impatient. Finally Tony gave him a nod and said, “How do you want me?”

“I want to see your face,” Bucky said, cupping Tony’s cheek. Tony nodded and Bucky was reaching for the condom and lube. He braced one arm on the bed by Tony’s head and the other hand was under his hips, tilting them up as he pressed slowly inside. His grey eyes were watching Tony’s face as he slowly thrust in and out, going a little deeper each time until he was finally all the way in, hips flush with Tony’s ass. He let out a sigh and rested his forehead against Tony’s and for a moment they just breathed together while Tony adjusted to the feeling of fullness.

“God, you are so tight,” Bucky whispered hoarsely, drawing back a little just to thrust back in. His dog tags brushed Tony’s chest and the feeling of the cool metal made him shiver and tighten around Bucky’s dick, dragging a low moan out of him. For a few minutes Bucky kept his thrusts slow and easy, hooking an arm under Tony’s knee to adjust the angle until one thrust hit a spot that had Tony arching off the bed in surprise.

“Holy Christ,” Tony panted, bringing his hands up from the mattress to bury one in Bucky’s hair and wrap the other one around the back of his thigh. He realized that Bucky was trembling with the effort of being so slow. “Do that again. Not every time, but…”

Bucky grunted in agreement and spread his knees a little bit for leverage. Then he made the mistake of looking down at where they were connected, where Tony was still hard and leaking precome, and he gritted his teeth around another low moan. “Look at you, split open by my cock.” He paused for a moment, thrusting shallowly. Tony whimpered and tried to lift his hips to get him deeper, but Bucky held him still. “I’m going to try to go slow,” Bucky managed, pulling out until he was almost out and then sliding all the way in again, “but I just want to let you know that I’m going to want to go again before I let you out of this bed. I want you to fuck my face and come down my throat, then I want to come on your chest.” He dragged his eyes down Tony’s chest and back up as finally settled into a steady, mind blowing rhythm. “If that’s ok with you.”

The mental image of that made Tony shiver again. “Holy fuck, Sergeant,” he said, then his breath hitched as Bucky’s eyes grew hot and the thrusts grew harder when he said sergeant. “You’ve got a filthy mouth, and now I know one of your kinks.”

“Oh, you have no idea.” Bucky leaned down to capture his mouth, practically bending Tony in half as he rode him hard. Tony waited as long as he could to put a hand on his cock, loving the feel of Bucky’s body over his, moving inside him, but eventually the need to come was impossible to ignore. He kept one hand in Bucky’s hair because every time he pulled on it Bucky made a noise in his chest that went right to Tony’s groin, but his other hand went to his cock, stroking it fast and almost rough.

“God, Tony, I want to see you, do it, come on my cock,” Bucky said, voice ragged and thrusts growing irregular as he felt Tony tightening around him. He hitched Tony’s hips up higher and then every thrust was hitting his prostate. Tony’s eyes flew open on a low moan, pupils completely blown, as he hovered on the edge of orgasm. Bucky squeezed his eyes tight and buried his face in Tony’s arched neck as his thrusts got deeper and rougher like he couldn’t get far enough inside. “I don’t know if I can wait, you feel so fucking good, God, Tony, you’re so good,” he said, breath hot against Tony’s skin, and then the tight coil of tension snapped, a rolling warmth spreading through Tony in waves as cock pulsed hot come on his hand and stomach, his body tightening around Bucky’s. He threw his head back against the pillow with a groan, arching his body and pulling Bucky closer, riding hard on his cock as the waves of pleasure kept coming.

In his ear Bucky was chanting increasingly desperate iterations of “fuck, Tony, fuck” and then he was shaking as he came, hand fisted in the sheet by Tony’s head as his body went rigid. Tony wrapped his arms around Bucky’s shoulders as his hips rolled shallowly as he came down off his orgasmic high, pulling sparks of sensation out of Tony’s oversensitive body that was right on the edge of too much.

Finally as his breathing slowed Bucky withdrew carefully and took the condom off to throw away. He snatched a towel off the back of a wooden chair and handed it to Tony to try to clean off come and lube.

When he was done Tony stretched gratefully, scooting over a bit to get out of the wet spot. “Holy shit,” he said, watching Bucky towel himself off as well. “So does Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell include ‘don’t come knocking if the trailer’s rocking?’”

Bucky huffed out a laugh as he stretched out beside Tony. “Yeah, sure. This is the military, everything that might be fun is against the UCMJ. Sex, gambling, drinking. Laughing, probably. But no one here is going to turn me in as long as I’m not stupid about it.”

Tony turned so that he was laying half on top of Bucky, ignoring the light sheen of sweat covering them both, brushing his lips idly over Bucky’s collarbone while his fingers traced patterns on his chest. “Why do people call you Bucky?”

“My middle name is Buchanan. When I came to the 105, there were like five other Jameses so they got creative.”

“James Buchanan Barnes,” Tony said thoughtfully. He sat up and straddled Bucky’s waist so he could get both hands all over that skin while he had the chance. “Can I call you the Notorious JBB?”

“Hey, don’t put that evil on me,” Bucky said, putting his hands behind his head and letting Tony explore to his heart’s content. “They never found Biggie’s killer. What’s your middle name?”

“Edward. I also like long walks on the beach while watching the sun set, in case that was your next question.”

Bucky smiled and smacked him on the ass. “Rude. Do you really like walks on the beach? Sounds dull. Besides, after a few times out here I’m done with sand for a while.”

“Picnics in the park?” Bucky made a face. “Dinner and dancing?”

“Sure, I like to dance,” Bucky said with a shrug. “Not all my moves are horizontal.”

“I’m sure.” Tony’s fingers wandered up to Bucky’s face and he pressed his thumb into the dimple in his chin. “So are you ready for round two, or do you need more time, old man?”

***

Tony only had one more day on FOB Ob before he got called back to the States for an emergency board meeting. Bucky managed to convince Lt Rogers to let him escort Tony back to Kabul for his flight out of country, but eventually the time came that he had to let Tony walk away without being able to follow him.

Tony threw his duffel bag on top of the stack of luggage for the loadmaster to put on the C-130 that was his ride back to civilization. Bucky gathered his hands behind his back in an ‘at-ease’ posture, both to look professional and to keep himself from grabbing Tony and giving him a goodbye kiss that would do Hollywood proud. Tony shoved his hands in his pockets for the same reason. “So do you guys have email out here? Phones?”

“Sure. Why?”

“If you, you know, wanted to call or write sometime, I’d like to see you again.”

“Of course,” Bucky said with surprise. The nervousness in Tony eased at the warm affection in his eyes, the smile curving his full lips. Tony felt an answering grin light up his face. “Barring any unforeseen events, I should be going home in under a month, and then I’ll be due some time off. I’d love to spend it with you.”

Tony pulled a business card out of his pocket and scribbled his personal phone number and email on the back. Bucky’s hands trailed across his palm as he took the card and put it in his chest pocket. “I look forward to hearing from you, Sergeant Barnes.”

"Sounds good, Mr. Stark. You know, I hate to see you go," Bucky said in a low voice, hiding his heavy heart behind a cheeky grin, "but I am looking forward to watching you walk away."

And he did stay there, watching as Tony boarded the plane and gave him a last wave, then watching until the plane disappeared into the sky. He gave himself five minutes to kick the sand and feel sorry for himself before he went on with the rest of his tour.

#winteriron #tony x bucky #tony stark #bucky barnes #prompt fill

405 notes · View notes

twinkletoes-rp · 7 years ago

Text

Right Here

Fandom: Voltron Legendary Defender

Word Count: 4,838

Pairing(s): Kidge (Keith/Pidge)

Can also be read on: FFN

Summary: -Possible season 3 spoilers.- Keith hasn’t had a panic attack since Shiro first disappeared on the Kerberos mission, then since he vanished again months ago after seriously injuring Zarkon. And yet, when the Black Lion chooses Keith to lead Voltron in Shiro’s stead, here he is again. Luckily, Pidge isn’t about to let him suffer alone or for long. Oneshot.

Keith’s been in the Black Lion a long time. He’s taking even longer than Lance did.

The only difference is, Black woke up from her stasis just a few seconds after Keith sat down in the pilot’s seat – in Shiro’s seat. But Keith still hasn’t come out…

Unable to hold back his concern anymore, Hunk finally speaks up.

“You guys don’t think the Black Lion might be some sort of spatial anomaly now, do you? Like, once you step inside for more than a few seconds, you just…poof somewhere else or something like Shiro did…?”

The others stiffen and look at each other. They hadn’t considered that. What if that is what’s happening? What if it’s already happened?

As one, they all bolt into the Black Lion, blinking and shielding their eyes from the brightly-lit control panels. It’s been a while since she’s been active, after all, and the neon purple light can be startling. That isn’t what has their attention almost immediately, however. It’s the fact that Keith isn’t in the pilot’s seat.

For a moment, they all panic. Did what happened to Shiro really happen to Keith, too? Should they leave before the same thing happens to them? They look around for him wildly, and Pidge is about to open her mouth to call his name, heart in her throat—

But then, they hear it. There’s a strangled noise from the corner of the cockpit farthest from the dashboard, and they all turn toward it instantly. What they find might just be worse than their fears.

Keith is there, still with them and thankfully still in one piece, but they’ve never seen him like this. He’s curled up in as small a ball as possible, one arm curled around his knees while his other hand clutches at his chest, fist white-knuckled in his shirt over his heart. He’s staring at nothing, tears streaming down his face as he struggles to get a breath in edgewise, his memories of Shiro replaying in his head with both version of his “If anything ever happens to me, I want you to lead Voltron” as background noise. As they watch, all of them frantic because none of them has ever seen him cry before – no one has but Shiro – and they’re at a complete and utter loss for what to do, how to help, it becomes clear that he’s in serious danger of hyperventilating. His sobs aren’t helping anything, choked, broken, heartrending things that constrict his throat even more, and they’re honestly afraid he’ll pass out if he keeps this up.

They know Keith and Shiro were close. Anyone with a quarter of a brain would be able to see that. But this…they never expected this. They also know they can’t just stand around here forever. They have to do something. They can feel their hearts breaking for him, even Lance. They just don’t know what to do. None of them knew him like Shiro did. None of them are nearly as close to him as Shiro was. Like Pidge said, Keith’s always been the ‘loner.’ His exception to the rule was always Shiro alone…

Even Lance wants to help somehow. He knows Keith would probably rather punch his face in than accept any kind of comfort from him, though, and honestly, after the way Lance has treated him (something he’s really, really starting to feel bad about because he knows he started it all, Keith was just defending himself just about every time, and seeing him look so breakable here is doing things to his heart), he can’t bring himself to blame Keith at all.

Keith looks so small, so young, so vulnerable right now. This is Keith without his armor, they realize. It shakes them to the core.

Pidge, especially, is at war with herself. She’s been struggling with Shiro’s disappearance, too. She wants him back more than almost anything. She may not have known him before all this Voltron stuff like Keith did, but she’s still really close to him, definitely the closest after Keith. She knows exactly how Keith’s feeling right now. Shiro’s the only ‘family’ Keith has left. It’s probably the same way she felt when her father and brother disappeared with Shiro on Kerberos. Just like the others, she wants to help him, but she isn’t sure how. The only thing she can think of to start is…Keith most likely won’t like coming out of this with an audience. That might just make him freak out more…

Biting her lip, she weighs her options, and finally, after a few seconds, she turns to the others. “Everybody, out. Let me talk to him.”

The others are surprised, looking from her to him and back, and it’s clear by their expressions that they’re not sure about the idea. Keith’s violent tendencies aside (though they know he’d never hurt her, at least not on purpose), he’s not in his right mind right now. That makes him even more dangerous and unpredictable than usual. Allura makes to step forward. “Pidge—”

“Allura,” the girl’s tone is sharp, precise, but not unkind, “let me do this. I might not be the closest to him, not like Shiro is,” the ‘is’ is deliberate because, like Keith, she won’t believe he’s gone until she sees it for herself, “but I’m still the closest to him of anyone here. We all know that.” She softens a bit, desperate and soft, her voice, too. “Let me try. Please.” Their continued time-wasting makes her clench her fists, and she lifts her chin higher, not caring if her voice has a bit of a bite to this time. Maybe it’ll help get their asses in gear. “Do you want to help him or not?”

And they do, they really do, so they reluctantly all file out of the Black Lion one-by-one. They stay outside, though, just in case Keith reacts badly and she needs their help. Before he leaves, however, Lance puts a hand on her shoulder and looks back over at Keith. His face is a mixture of worried and hurting and hopeful, but he comes back to her with a tiny smile. “Bring him back to us,” he implores, more like begs, really. He needs to make things right. “He doesn’t know it yet, but we need him. We always have.”

For a long moment, Pidge can only stare, wondering if she heard wrong. That is big coming from Lance, especially where Keith is concerned. But in the end, she reaches up to rest her hand on his and nods, a little smile lighting up her face, too. “Don’t worry,” she reassures. “I’ll bring him home.”

The ‘home’ line comforts Lance more than anything, and he ruffles her hair with a minuscule smirk. “That’s my Pigeon. We’ll be right out here. Call if you need us.”

She rolls her eyes fondly at the nickname, but nods, and then she watches him walk down the ramp. Pidge silently thanks Black when she closes them in for privacy, and she takes a deep, somewhat shaky breath before turning to face Keith. This brings back a lot of painful memories…

Walking toward him, she stops about two feet away, just in case. “All right, Katie…” she breathes in through her mouth and out through her nose, a calming breathing exercise Shiro taught her, one she’s sure he taught Keith, too, a long time ago, “…here we go…”

Pidge kneels down in front of Keith, and God, from this distance, from this angle, he looks even worse. He has his hand fisted over his mouth to try to stop the sobs that wrack his lithe frame, at least quiet them, but it’s not doing any good. There are so many tears rushing down his face, which is already wet and shiny as can be, that he could be a human waterfall of misery and heartache. He’s shaking, too, she sees now that she’s this close, shaking violently, and she’s worried about him being sick now on top of hyperventilating and eventually passing out.

Each and every sound he makes, tear that falls, and jolt and tremor that surge through him are like acid-dipped knives in Pidge. She’s not sure why it hurts so much. Maybe it’s her protective instincts flaring up. Maybe it’s just that they’re friends, and she hates to see anyone she cares about in pain. But something inside tells her it’s more than that. She can’t identify what the 'more’ is, exactly, but…the fact that it’s there is enough. It just pushes her to help him more.

She reaches out to touch him, take the hand from over his mouth, but hesitates, stops, halfway. What if she shouldn’t? What if that’ll just make it worse? She has to make sure he registers her presence even a little bit before trying to talk to him. She’s heard that helps with panic attacks. At least, she thinks she has. It’s been forever since she’s read anything human- or Earth-related, and she read that when she was thirteen or fourteen, if she remembers correctly…

So, she opts not to touch his skin just yet, at least not directly. Instead, she rests her fingers feather-lightly on his hair, not moving into it yet, just waiting. His breath hitches for a moment, he stiffens, and another sob leaves him, a hard one, but he doesn’t shrink back or lash out. Instead, he leans up just the slightest bit into it, and that assures and gives her confidence enough to push her fingers in a little more, then all the way when he responds even better to that. He leans into her touch readily, biting his knuckles to keep at bay sudden sobs that are harsher than those before, ones that twist the knives in Pidge’s heart all the more. A small amount of the tension leaves his shoulders, though, letting her know it is helping, and she cards her fingers through his hair with more fervor.

She wonders if he’s relaxing because maybe this is what Shiro used to do to help calm him down, too. The thought soothes and wounds her heart at once.

She doesn’t want him to bite through his skin, though, even if he’s not biting as hard anymore. But she still won’t touch him, not yet, just in case. Opting for a safer route, she takes a deep, shaky breath and dives in – with a healthy amount of caution, of course.

“Keith,” she starts, keeping her voice low and careful, always gentle, “it’s me. It’s Pidge. I know you can feel my hand in your hair. Can you…can you hear me?”

She waits on bated breath, and her answer comes in the form of biting his lip and leaning farther into her hand. Honestly, she expected him to turn away, hide from her, but he’s not doing any of that. Something in her chest loosens, warms, and she’s reminded of that 'feeling’ she couldn’t place before. It’s back in full force. Whatever it is, for right now, she holds onto it.

She swallows. “Good. Look, um…I know I’m not Shiro, but I’m…I like to think I’m your closest friend here besides him.” She waits a moment, not sure what he’ll have to say to that, but luckily, he doesn’t make a move to protest, just seems to agree, even accept it. Something about that makes her smile a little. “The others…they’re really worried about you.” She breathes a laugh, stroking his hair a little more when he tenses at that. “I think Lance was the most worried, if you can believe it. I have a feeling he’ll want to talk to you when this is over.” His eyebrows stitch together a tiny bit at the mention of Lance, disbelieving and clearly worried about the potential conversation, but she just smiles kindly. “Don’t worry about them, though, okay? They said to take as long as we need, so…we’re safe.” He relaxes a smidgen, and she does, too. “Good.”

She isn’t really sure how to start the next part. It’s…complicated. But she knows she has to try. So, she does things like she always does: on faith and her skills and by the skin of her teeth. “I know you’re hurting, Keith,” she tells him gently, softly, not wanting him to get defensive. But he just listens. After all, she’s already seen him like this. What does he really have to hide anymore? “You’re probably feeling like I was when Dad and Matt first disappeared. You’re terrified and confused and in denial. You’ll do anything to prove that it’s not true, fight anyone who says otherwise. Your chest hurts, your throat’s constricted, and you’re praying for release from the pain, but want it to stay, too, because if it’s there, that means…that means that it’s real. And if it’s real, with any luck at all, with any hope left in the universe…it means you might be able to do something about it. It means you have to, no matter what sacrifices you have to make. If the only way to get the pain to stop is to find Dad and Matt, to find Shiro…you’ll do anything.”

She doesn’t notice, but while talking about this, she’s been playing with her hair, her short hair, eyes moving to the floor. So when she pauses, only to realize and look up to find his eyes on hers and a shade clearer than they’ve been this whole time, her own widen. Her breath stops.

There’s so much hope and relief in his eyes, and it dawns on her that he probably never expected anyone else to understand how he’s feeling. That makes her smile, has to, and she reaches out to squeeze his hand, the one he was biting that’s finally fallen from his mouth. She doesn’t care about the spit on it. She’s just glad he didn’t break the skin. His tears have slowed a bit in his shock, too, sobs with them. Even if it’s just for now, she’ll take it. Thank goodness.

She clears her throat, and it’s only when a tear falls from her own eyes that she notices the burning in them. She raises her hand to wipe it away—

—but Keith’s swift hand beats her to it, and she surprises herself, heart skipping a beat, when she leans into his touch.

It must surprise him, too, because his hand falters for a moment, and the rest of him kind of freezes. He’s gentle when he touches her, she can’t help but notice, and yet it’s different from the familiar, protectively companionable way he touches Shiro, the way that screams 'you’re safe with me.’ There’s protectiveness in hers, too, but it’s a new type, one she hasn’t encountered before. There’s not the familiarity there that’s born of years of being friends, akin to family, but there’s a kind brought about in fighting side by side, pulling the occasional prank on Lance, training together, late night talks about crytpids and conspiracy theories and how Lance is an almost-lovable pain in the ass. It’s made of friendship and trust and understanding on a level the others don’t have, and Pidge will be damned if she doesn’t feel the way her heart is hammering in her chest. She prays his heightened hearing doesn’t pick up on it. If the wide eyes and red tint to his cheeks are any indication, though, she hopes he’s too busy with reining in his own emotions.

Realizing how long it’s been, he tears his hand away like he’s been burned and fixes his eyes on the floor. He swallows, and Pidge takes a silent, shuddering breath. That was weird…but she liked it. The intensity, the emotion, how his hand felt on her skin. That last one makes her own cheeks darken more than they already were, and she forces herself to get back on task. She’s here to help Keith. She should get back to it.

Time to get to the heart of the matter.

“Keith…” slowly, he looks back over at her, pursing his lips, and she reaches over to take his hand without thinking about it, squeezing it tightly, “…just because Black chose you, that doesn’t mean Shiro’s gone. She let you do it before, right? On that planet after Haggar separated us. Shiro was still alive, right in front of you, more or less. Who says it’s not the same now? The circumstances are different, and we don’t know where he is yet, but that doesn’t mean we have to assume the worst. For all we know, he’s fighting his way back to us already, has been the whole time.”

Her words are having a calming effect on him, wave after wave of tension tumbling into oblivion, eyes becoming clearer and tears slowing, hope replacing it. She’s proud of herself, proud of him. She doesn’t know how Lance antagonized him for so long. He’s a really good guy with a really good, loving heart. There’re just some walls to break through first, that’s all.

“Shiro’s a fighter, a survivor,” she starts up again, pulling from Shiro’s own bag of tricks now, but she figures it’ll help; she even throws in a tender, encouraging smile like he did for her, “like you. If he’s out there, we’ll find him.” She softens a bit and admits, “Shiro said that to me after I found that video feed of Matt in Beta Traz.” Her cheeks pinken some, and she shrugs gently. “He always knew what to say.”

Slowly, after a few heartbeats to let that sink in with him, she tugs lightly on his hand, her face set in determination and amber eyes alight with fire. "We’re not going to stop looking for him. I’ll help you, no matter how long it takes. You won’t be replacing him either. You’ll just be helping us out by leading us until we find him.” She offers a kind, toothy grin, voice lowering some to match. “And you know, for the record, 'loner’ or not, I think you’ll do great.” She sees how doubtful he is, picks up on how much even the notion of him in pain hurts her, and she squeezes his hand again, rubbing soothing circles into its back. “Shiro knows you have it in you, and you trust him, right? You can do this, Keith Kogane. I believe in you. We all do, even Lance. You just need a little adjustment room, that’s all,” the corner of her mouth quirks up a bit more, “and we’ll be there to support you through it. I will be.”

For several long moments, he just stares at her like he can’t believe she just said that, any of it, that this is really happening. But finally, hesitantly, his eyes move from her face to their joined hands and back a few times, stopping on their hands in the end. After five heartbeats, he reaffirms his grip on hers. His tremors have long faded by now, thank goodness, and his tears have, too. His face is still soaked and red, and his eyes are dark and puffy, but most of that will fade in time. He ducks his head to dry them in an effort to get some of his composure back, and she politely looks away. She wants to respect his privacy after he just let her see him at his lowest. He didn’t have to, after all. She’s still wrapping her mind around the fact that she didn’t just hallucinate this whole thing.

Once he’s done, she gradually rises from her knees to a crouch, waiting to see if he’ll be all right with leaving Black yet and facing the others before going any further. He swallows and nods at the unspoken question, a tiny, grateful smile painting his lips. Taking that and running with it, she smiles right back and stands up completely. He follows after her, a little slower and correcting his footing when he stumbles from the emotional exhaustion abruptly weighing on him, but he stands tall in the end, and that’s what matters.

“Ready?” she asks softly, purposely running her thumb up and down the side of his hand.

He looks toward the will-be entrance, then down at their entwined hands once more after another beat. He swallows, purses his lips, and then, after a deep breath or two, he nods again, squeezing her hand back. He tosses her a warm smile – and something about it makes a sudden thought of how she’d really love to see that smile more often spring to life in her heart of hearts. “Yeah,” he replies just as quietly. “Let’s go.”

Black bends down to let them out, and they start making their way down the ramp. Pidge suddenly remembers they’re holding hands, and she moves to take her hand away so as not to embarrass him – but he just tightens his grip on her hand, smile widening in a way that makes her heart almost stop, she’s sure, and she smiles back before averting her gaze, feeling the bright blush on her cheeks.

When they finally make it down to the hangar floor, the others are watching them. Their eyes are immediately drawn to their linked hands, and Lance looks up at them with an eyebrow raised. Hunk, Allura, and Coran have the decency to quell their own curiosity. Pidge blushes further, but Keith stands stronger than ever, and affection overflows in her chest. He really is something else.

“So…buddy,” Lance starts off, rubbing the back of his head and eyeing Keith worriedly, smartly choosing not to mention anything about their little hand-holdy deal, at least not yet; knowing him, he’ll pull Pidge aside later, “are you, uh…” he shrugs, not really sure how to put it, what he’s doing; this is Keith, after all, and he still needs to fix things, “…okay now?”

Keith blinks, eyes widening, and he looks over at Pidge as if to say 'You really weren’t kidding about him being worried.’ He’s never seen Lance so…unsure. But he respects Lance enough to take the high road and not say anything about it, instead choosing to just nod and answer honestly.

“Yeah. I…I will be, anyway.” His voice is quiet, a little rough from the crying and all, but it’s there, and he offers a tiny smile for all of their sakes. “I just…I’m sorry. I’m sorry all of you had to see that.” He can see they’re about to protest, reassure him it’s okay, but he doesn’t give them the chance. He knows it wouldn’t be pity, but…still. “I will lead Voltron, but only temporarily until we find Shiro. We’re not going to stop looking for him, but our duty is to the universe first. Okay?”

He’s not saying it like it’s an order. He’s asking like a leader who wants to hear the input of his team, and Pidge squeezes his hand, grinning widely. She’s proud of him. He’s already shaping up to be a great head of Voltron.

The others nod instantly, some of them a few times for emphasis. “I think that sounds perfect!” Allura praises, a brilliant beam on her face, the happiest any of them have seen since Shiro disappeared.

Coran, at her side, twirls his mustache and gives a relaxed salute. “I’d follow you anywhere, temporary Black Paladin!” He winks.

Hunk pumps his fists at half-mast and encourages, “Yeah, you’ve got this, Keith! Lead the way! And we’ll be right there with you if you get stuck!”

Lance is the last to respond, Pidge’s answer already known, and Keith’s eyes find his a shade hesitantly. The Blue Paladin is looking at him funny, and Keith worries he said something wrong. He hopes this won’t turn into another argument. He doesn’t know if he could handle that right no—

The next thing he knows, Lance is hugging him, practically crushing him to his chest, and Keith stiffens immediately. He relaxes a few seconds later when he realizes he’s not being attacked, of course, but he’s still not sure what this is. What’s gotten into him? “I’m sorry,” Lance starts without warning, voice deep and low, but everyone can hear it anyway, “for everything. I didn’t…I mean…” he buries his face a little more in Keith’s shoulder, and Keith’s breath hitches in his throat, “…I’ve been a dick.”

Keith’s expression saddens a bit in understanding. He never meant to let it go this far either… “Hey, I wasn’t exactly poster child for defending myself nicely either, and I threw some barbs at you, too. Neither of us was entirely innocent.”

“Yeah…” Lance looks to the side. “But I…if you’ll let me…I want to fix it…us… I want to start over. I want to contribute to the team. I want to help you be the best leader you can be, temporary or not. I want to help you get Shiro back and save the universe once and for all, together, as the team we’re meant to be.” He hesitates, worries his lip. “But I’d…understand if you wouldn’t wan—”

He’s cut off when Keith throws himself into hugging him back, strong arms wrapping around the other boy’s lanky frame and white-knuckled fists curling in his jacket, burying his face in his shoulder. “I definitely want that,” he tells him, the surety in his voice reassurance enough. “If you’ll help me, I’ll gladly have it.”

After a few long moments, he finally withdraws from the hug, only to clasp Lance’s shoulder and squeeze it, giving him a bright smile while tilting his head to the side slightly. His dark blue eyes shine. "And you do contribute to the team, Lance. You’re our sharpshooter, the best, and the one who reminds us not to take ourselves or the mission too seriously. You get us to laugh when we need to let go, and you always have our backs. You already do so much more for all of us, even me, than you realize.” He squeezes his shoulder again. “Don’t sell yourself so short. There are still so many things we all have to discover about ourselves. We’ll get there, all of us.” His eyes sweep over the rest of them, too, and they all grin and feel a pride they haven’t since losing Shiro. “Together.”

Lance blinks, his face scrunches up and lip trembles, and for a moment, Keith panics. Oh, God, is he about to cry? What did he say? He was just following his instincts. Hell, if he already messed this up—

“Dude,” Lance claps Keith on the shoulder, making him stumble a little, a laughing undertone to the friendly nickname and a massive, almost euphoric smile on his face, the happiest and most confident Keith’s seen in months, and it honestly throws the new leader for a loop, “you’ve been spending way too much time with Shiro. That was amazing.” He grins wider, so much that it turns into a smirk, only it’s not one of his usual ones. No…this one’s proud, proud to follow him, Keith realizes. “See? Shiro was right. You are gonna be good at this.”

Keith’s shocked, breath stopped, and for a moment, he can’t do anything but blink and stare. But he glances over at Pidge, at the others, and they’re all smiling so much and radiating pride. Hunk and Allura even have tears in their eyes… Finally, he softens, tension leaving his shoulders, and he exhales through his nose, an easy, adoring smile coming to his face. "Thanks, Lance,” he breathes. “Thanks, all of you. I’ll do my best to lead you like I should.” He shrugs, knowing himself too well. “I can’t promise there won’t be times when you won’t want to strangle me, though.”

Lance just slings an arm around his shoulders and starts leading them all out of the hangar. “Oh, don’t you worry,” he almost sing-songs. “We figure there’ll be a learning curve.” He ruffles his hair, just to hear Keith squawk. He snickers. “We’ve got you, buddy.”

Keith laughs softly in response, brow cocked, and then he looks on his other side. Pidge is right there, as he somehow knew she would be, and he reaches out for her, giving her a tender, grateful smile she’s quickly realizing is only reserved for her. She has to wonder if he even knows he’s doing it. The thought makes her blush either way, but that doesn’t stop her from returning it and taking his hand like it’s nothing. He pulls her closer, running his thumb over her hand’s soft back, and if possible, his expression falls even tenderer.

That feeling she couldn’t identify before is screaming at her now, not its name, but how it feels, rushing all throughout her body, and she doesn’t stop herself from squeezing his hand. She might not know what this feeling is yet…but she can tell he’s feeling it, too, and they’re going to have a hell of a (fun) ride figuring it out.

Shiro will love this.

#Voltron Legendary Defender #Voltron fanfic #Voltron fic #Kidge #Peith #Voltron #Feel free to reboot and comment/Reply! Would love to hear your thoughts! I'm a little rusty. lol.)

92 notes · View notes

rxbxlcaptain · 7 years ago

Note

#26? :) xxx {roguewrath}

26: “I think I’ve been holding myself from falling in love with you all over again.”

Wow, I am so sorry about how long it took me to write this. I just went down a fairly sentimental path for this one, and it turns out that’s how I get really stuck on a piece of writing. I’m still not sure this is exactly how I want it to be, but it needed to be published.

I’ve decided to do a throwback for this prompt! A long, long time ago (like, April) I wrote Logos and Pathos, based off the prompt “Temptation”, where Draven just shy of orders Cassian to make his relationship with Jyn official and stop creating drama around the Rebellion because of it. I had several people ask me for a continuation from Jyn’s POV and I swore I was going to do it, but I just… never got around to it, I suppose? My writing brain is weird sometimes my apologies really.

But, now, I DID IT. Have Jyn’s perspective on a proposal that, well, may or mat not go the direction Cassian was hoping.

Warning: You’ll likely want to read Logos and Pathos first!

AO3

“What did you want to talk about?” Jyn asked as sheand Cassian slid into seats in the mess hall. Cassian had met her as her shippulled into Echo base’s hanger – nothing unusual there – with his face lit up byan overeager smile – again, nothing unusual. What had been unusual was hisreason why. Cassian wasn’t one for overly sappy sentiments, or at least inpublic places, but she’d expected the reason for his smile to be different than“something Draven said a few weeks ago.”

And now, with Cassian recoiling (not physically,perhaps, but Jyn watched him retreat within his mental shell, hiding his openemotion from the hanger behind the practiced “spy face”) she had absolutely noguess what that statement meant. It’s not like she and Draven were famousaround base for getting along. In fact, most of the rebels would be lesssurprised by Jyn and Draven falling into an all-out snowball fight than by her willinglyfollowing his advice.

Cassian looked as if he were going to begin but,after opening and closing his mouth twice, averted his eyes to the table.Rather than answering her question, he instead asked, “How was your flight?”

“Uneventful,” she responded, “But now you’re makingme nervous.”

“You shouldn’t be,” Cassian assured her. “Nothing’swrong.”

“In the hanger—” Jyn pointed a finger back in thedirection they’d came “—I believed that. Now you’re acting weird.”

Silence overcame the table for a few moments beforeCassian peeked up at her from under the fringes of his hair. He cleared histhroat lightly before beginning. “Draven’s a bit concerned about ourrelationship.”

Jyn’s eyebrows rose high on her forehead inresponse, though Cassian missed the expression by dropping his eyes back to thetable. “Did you tell him to go to hell?”

“No,” Cassian said with a slight smile (Jyn couldn’tdecide if that calmed the livid thumping of her heart or if it angered her more),“That would be your job. And it’s not what you think.”

“Draven didn’t give you an ultimatum about howbeing romantically involved with a known rogue and ex-Partisan was going tomake you more vulnerable and if you knew what was good for you you’d neverspeak to me again?” Jyn didn’t bother to disguise the sarcastic anger drippingfrom her voice.

“No.” Cassian shook his head, entirely too calm forJyn’s liking. His fingers traced aimless patterns along the tabletop, nervousin a way that Jyn never saw him. Part of her wanted to grab his fidgetingfingers. She stayed still instead. “He didn’t say anything like that at all.”

“Then what could General Davits Draven have to sayabout our relationship, if it’s not ‘Get one of my best agents away from JynErso’?”

Cassian finally dared looking up at her again. “He …suggested that we make it official.”

Jyn stared at him. “Marriage?” Her voice taintedthe word with disdain. Cassian hid it well, but, for a moment, Jyn was certainshe saw him flinch at the tone of her voice. “Draven suggested we get married?”

“He made some logical points, Jyn, and…”

Jyn didn’t let Cassian finish. Too many emotions –nothing like the cool logical Cassian was speaking of – coiled in her gut; finishingthis discussion with him right now would be disastrous for both of them. With ashake of her head, Jyn pushed back from the table, despite Cassian’s protestsand attempt to grab her arm.

She stormed out of the mess hall with no cleardestination in mind, shoulder checking several pilots in her path on the wayout.

Cassian didn’t attempt to call her back.

Jyn found her way to the training room. Since she’djust returned from a mission, no other members of her squadron were in theroom. They, likely, were taking the rest of the day to sleep and eat and shower– all the things she should be doing right now, if only her heartbeat weren’trunning so high and her hands itching to punch something.

Hemade some logical points, Jyn…

General Draven could keep his logical points, Jynthought as she jabbed at a punching bag. If Jyn had been looking for logic,Cassian wouldn’t be in her life. Hell, the Alliance itself – her rank, herposition within it, the missions she ran at the risk of her own life – wouldn’tbe in her life at all if logic dictated her actions. She would have boltedbefore the Scarif mission, the second her obligation to the Alliance for savingher from Wobani was fulfilled.

Instead, she’d led a suicide mission to Scarif. She’djoined its ranks once she escaped the bacta tanks, and she’d allowed herself togrow close to the members of her team. More than the magnetic pull Cassian hadon her – and she on him – Jyn found herself relying on Bodhi’s easy company andthe optimistic presence of Chirrut. Baze’s sure aim and K-2SO’s statisticalsupport (or was annoyance the right word?) kept her back safe, and, forthe first time in years, Jyn didn’t need to check over her shoulder constantly.

She’d followed her heart for the first time inyears and life gave her the satisfaction of the destruction of her father’sweapon, the rank of sergeant, and a man who waited on the tarmac of whereverthe Alliance called home with a smile and a “Welcome home.”

The last thing she wanted now was logicalreclaiming that relationship, not when she’d needed to work past that in thebeginning.

Marriage. Jyn hadn’t considered marriage since she’d seenher parents’ marriage end with a blaster bolt to her mother’s chest. But whenshe considered it – considered the smile her father saved exclusively for hermother or the way her mother laughed as her father told a joke that really wasn’tfunny at all – it seemed more like a fairy tale told to children. Somethingdoomed to fail from the start.

Minutes faded into an hour and the limited crowd inthe room thinned until Jyn was one of the last remaining in the training room. Hermuscles ached and her knuckles showed early signs of bruising, but Jyn wasstill reluctant to leave. Leaving meant returning to the room she and Cassianshared and it meant they’d need to finish their conversation.

With a sigh, Jyn straightened her shoulders andtook a deep breath. She battled Stormtroopers and the entire force of theEmpire on a regular basis; handling a terrifying conversation with Cassianshould she tame in comparison.

“Jyn,” Cassian said as the door to their quartersslid open. He sat up quickly from where he’d been lounging on the bed, hisvoice caught between relief and surprise. “I … wasn’t sure you’d come backtonight.”

“I always come back,” Jyn replied with a shrug,heading to the wardrobe to get a change of clothes, refusing to meet his eyes. “I’llalways come back home.”

You’remy home, she hoped heunderstood. Even if we fight, even if we’re both idiots, even if I’m stillangry. This is where I belong.

Her words must have given him hope, because Cassianapproached her as she grabbed a set of sleep clothes. When he grabbed her armthis time, Jyn didn’t pull away, only gave him an intense look, trusting hewould understand the implied You have five seconds to speak before you losethis hand. His voice was pleading as he spoke. “Just… hear me out.”

“I’m listening,” she informed him coolly, her armscrossed in front of her chest. “But if you’re going to start talking aboutlogic again…”

“I’m not,” Cassian assured her, shaking his head. “Iwouldn’t.” His hands ran through his hair anxiously, tossing it this way andthat. Combined with his nervous ticks this afternoon, Jyn had never seen Cassiangive so many obvious tells about his emotions.

“I don’t know what I’m doing.” He smiled, shy with ahint of self-depreciation, and shook his head. “Earlier proves that. But I’dlike to figure it out, with you by my side, if you’re willing.

“I opened this wrong,” he continued. “Because itisn’t about logic for me. If it was about logic, I would have told you thisplan when Draven first mentioned it a month ago. But you and me, this feelingbetween us—” Cassian reached up to cradle her face in his hands and she didn’tpull away, couldn’t pull away, not with how intently his eyes were boring intohers “—nothing about it is logical. And, for once in my life, I want to followmy heart instead of my head.”

Cassian took a deep breath as if to settle himself,“When I first met you, you were nothing more than a tool in the mission. But bythe time we left for Scarif…” Cassian trailed off with a laugh. “By the time weleft for Scarif, I was content to die by your side.”

His thumb stroked her cheekbone tenderly, his eyesnever leaving hers. “I worried that you wouldn’t feel the same, or I couldn’thandle a relationship like this but with each day I’ve served alongside you, I think I’ve been holding myself fromfalling in love with you all over again.

“I recoiled from the idea of marrying you whenDraven first mentioned it, but it had nothing to do with you. I’ve lived mylife through orders, but this… this is different. I don’t want it to be anorder, and I don’t want it to be logical.” He swallowed again and a nervouslook creeped back into his eyes. His next words were rushed, as if he had spentall afternoon practicing them and needed to get them out before he forgot them.“And if you don’t want to involve legal documentation, that’s fine, but, Jyn, Ineed you to know that I’m going to be right by your side for as long as youwant me.”

Cassian had never declared anything so sentimentalbefore, not even hidden within the walls of their quarters and under the coverof darkness. She’d known – how could she not, when she felt the same way? – butshe’d never heard it expressed in so many words. She wanted to surge up andkiss him, to silence him in the best way, but her knees wobbled, her mind spun,her throat dried up. She should be speaking, should be reassuring him, but shewasn’t sure she could speak if she wanted to.

“I don’t want anything dramatic,” she finallymanaged, her voice sounding as hoarse as her throat felt. “But I’ve learned tolike the official path over the last few years.”

Cassian’s eyes lit up and Jyn’s suspicions that, nomatter how he assured her he was fine either way, he wanted this to be official.

“We can be as quiet as you want,” he assured her. “Noone outside of the crew would have to know.”

Considering how gossip spread around the Rebellion,Jyn doubted that would be true, but, as she pulled Cassian down for a kiss, shedecided it wouldn’t matter.

#kat writes #therebelcaptainnetwork #dailyrebelcaptain #rebelcaptain #rogue one #jyn erso #cassian andor #thank you for sending this in!#im sorry that it took so long to publish this #I hope you enjoy!#if youre waiting on me to fill a prompt of yours i swear it's coming!#(i just take forever to write things)#anon #dialogue prompts

68 notes · View notes

twoheartedalien2-0 · 7 years ago

Text

Anchors Chp 1

Widowmaker sighed as she peeled off her dust covered catsuit and dumped it into the hamper in the corner of her room. She had just spent the last seventy-two hours in Egypt on a mission and she was in desperate need of a shower and sleep. Even with all the modifications that Talon had made to her body to increase her endurance, three days in the dusty desert environment without a shower or more than two hours sleep at a time was exhausting.

She glanced at Widow’s Kiss propped up against the wall as she stretched and strode towards the shower.She would have to disassemble it and put it into its carry case at some point, but the shower was calling to her first. She turned on the shower, letting the water run to heat up. Widowmaker grimaced at her reflection in the mirror, reaching up to remove the tie from her hair. She ran her fingers through it, tutting in disgust as she looked at her hand. The dust really did get everywhere.

She took her time to soak under the water, even using a body wash that Sombra had insisted she purchase that apparently relaxed the muscles. Relief sunk into her mind as she thought about how unless something were to go wrong (or Sombra were to giftwrap Doomfist’s gauntlet again ), she would have at least a few days to herself before returning to the field again. While missions offered her the thrill of the kill that she always sought out, it was also nice to spend some time doing other things.

It was in the middle of disassembling Widow’s Kiss that she was given a fright. The sound of someone desperately gasping for air filled the silence in her room and caused her to drop her partially assembled rifle into her lap. In the middle of the room was the slumped over body of a small woman wearing what looked to be a blue flight suits. The woman looked around the room, one hand on the floor propping herself up on her knees and the other grasping at her chest as she examined her surroundings, her unruly locks moving with each turn of her head. Her brown eyes met Widowmaker’s, narrowing as the woman examined her sitting on her bed wrapped up only in a towel.

“Can you see me?” The woman asked, eyebrows drawn together. Widowmaker simply narrowed her eyes at her, confused.

“Of course I can see you. What are you doing in my room?” Widowmaker leaned back, tilting her body away from the woman as she jumped up from where she had been kneeling on the floor.

“Luv, you’re the first person I’ve ever appeared in front of that can see me! First person I’ve spoken to in I don’t know how long.” She placed her hands on her hips, head whipping around as she took in Widowmaker’s room, “What month is it?”

“April.” Widowmaker replied, still perplexed as to how and why this woman had suddenly appeared.

“Oh no. I’ve been gone two months then!” The woman dragged her hands through her hair, tugging at the strands as if she planned to tear them out by the root.

“What. And I’ll ask again, why are you in my room? ”

“Sorry, sorry..” The woman held up her hands, eyes darting to the partially assembled rifle in her lap. “I was meant to fly the Slipstream for Overwatch, teleporting jet and all that. Well, I did fly it for a bit, and then something went wrong - lots of blue sparks and well… here I am. I don’t really have control over this, I’m sorry - I keep appearing all around the place but luv, you’re the first person I’ve been able to speak to since the accident!”

“You worked for Overwatch?” Widowmaker narrowed her eyes, hand automatically reaching for the disassembled parts of Widow’s Kiss that had been placed beside her on her bed.

“Yeah, well I did but there’s not much I can do now. I guess I’m sort of just waiting for them to rescue me now, hopefully it’s soon. I’ve been going crazy not being able to talk to anyone for what turns out to be two months but it feels so much longer and not at the same time.” Widowmaker watched on as the girl began rambling about her time in what she called the ‘Slipstream’ and being lost to time. She did talk an awful lot, only stopping her rambling in order to take a deep breath and drop an ‘I’m Lena by the way’ before she disappeared as suddenly as she had appeared. Widowmaker blinked and stared at the empty spot where the woman- Lena - had just been.How perplexing.

Widowmaker sat at her desk, disassembling and cleaning Widow’s Kiss, trying to relieve some of the tension in her body brought on by a particularly strenuous mission. As she sat there, running through her post-mission ritual, she considered the strange occurrence in her room the other night. Part of her wanted to believe it was her sleep deprived brain conjuring up an image but she couldn’t imagine why her mind would come up with a woman like that at any point. She pushed away the thought of informing her Talon superiors about her appearing in her room that night, assuming it would be simply the one off. She, Lena, had said that she was appearing in many different places. It would be unlikely that she would show up again in the same place.

Widowmaker carried on with her routine as per usual, letting Lena drop from her thoughts, moving around the base between training and practice at the gun range. Even though she had a few days rest until her next field mission and training was no longer made mandatory by her superiors, it pleased her to maintain a routine.

It wasn’t until three days after Lena’s initial appearance in her room that the girl bothered her again, interrupting her routine. Widowmaker had laid down on her bed, intending to go to sleep when the sound of Lena talking filled the room. She instantly recognised who it was from the accent, it had been hard to ignore the first time she heard it and was just as annoying the second time. The girl was continuing from where she had been cut off three days ago as if she had never even left the room. She only ceased when she realised that Widowmaker was not how she left her last, instead of sitting on her bed in a towel, she was lying in bed under the covers and in a nightgown.

“Oh, sorry, luv. Did I disappear again?” Lena laughed nervously, rubbing at the back of her neck. Widowmaker simply raised a dark eyebrow at her. “What’s your name anyway?” Lena asked, sitting down cross-legged and tilting her head in curiosity.

Widowmaker gave a small scoff at the question.

“I am the Widowmaker. You worked for Overwatch, non? Have you not heard of me?” Lena shrugged..

“They took me on as a test pilot, I wasn’t a field agent. Tell me about yourself?”

Widowmaker stared at Lena for a few long moments before giving in to answering her question.

“I am a sniper for Talon,” she offered lamely, purposefully not adding extra detail.

“Talon… Talon. Wait, you’re one of the bad guys? Are we in a Talon base at the moment?” Lena’s eyes widened, and she began turning around, having a look at the room again like she had the last time as she asked her questions.

“Yes, though I question your use of ‘bad guys’. It is not so black and white as your precious Overwatch would have you believe.”

“What would you lot call yourselves then?” Lena asked raised her eyebrow at her.

“I do not care, I just do as I am told. The philosophy of Talon is not of my concern.” Widowmaker tugged on the top of her bedsheets, bringing them up to her chest, expecting that to be the end of the conversation as a brief silence settled between them.

“So, you’re cool with working for an organisation without knowing what their plans are?” Widowmaker let out a low grunt of frustration at thisannoyance continuing to ask her questions.

“I have already told you that I do not care. Why would you ask me again?” She watched as Lena took a seat on the floor beside her bed, sitting cross-legged.

“Because I’m curious, luv. I’ve never appeared in front of someone a second time and I might as well entertain myself while I’m here, no one else seems to be able to hear me. So you’re a sniper, what’s that like?” Widowmaker sighed and rolled over, facing the wall so her back was towards the girl sitting on her floor. “Oi! Don’t ignore me, I get enough of that already.”

Widowmaker scoffed.

“I do not know what you would want me to say. I am a sniper, I shoot people from a distance. There is not much more to it.”

“How old are you?”

“Thirty.”

“You’ve got a nice accent, are you French?” Widowmaker rolled her eyes.

“Oui.”

“Oooh. What part of France are you from?”

“Annecy.”

“Is it nice there?”

“I do not remember.”

“How do you not remember?”

“I do not have memories of before I joined Talon.”

“Why’s that?”

“Tais-toi! Are you ever quiet?” Widowmaker sat up in bed, propping herself up on her elbows and levelling a sharp glare at the girl on the floor.. Lena shrunk slightly under her gaze, her shoulders rolling in. “I was not aware that the British were so opposed to the simple concept of sleep,” she growled.

Lena’s eyebrows drew together in confusion for a few moments as her eyes examined Widowmaker lying in her bed until her face lit up, connecting the dots. “Ohhhhhhhhh, so that’s why you’re in bed?”

“It is nearly midnight and I would like to sleep, so s’il vous plait .”

“Oh okay, do you mind if I just sit here then? I... can’t really do anything else,” Lena chewed her lip as she looked up. Widowmaker let herself drop back onto the mattress, pulling the bed sheets up and over her shoulders, still facing Lena.

“Do as you wish, so long as you are quiet and I can sleep.” There was a small giggle as Widowmaker closed her eyes.

While Lena didn’t continue speaking or asking questions, the girl could not sit still or stay completely quiet. Widowmaker could hear the girl fidgeting and humming to herself much to her dismay. She would never admit to anyone that she fell asleep just fine despite Lena’s presence. When she woke up the following day, she had found the girl had disappeared just like the last time, leaving nothing behind to suggest she had even been there at all.

The third time Lena appeared in front of her, Widowmaker had just returned to her room after a less than stellar afternoon at the gun range. She had picked up a tray of food and brought it back with her to eat, deciding she was certainly not in the mood to sit with the regular Talon agents, not without having to disable or kill one of them anyway. There weren’t any new agents for her to make examples of, her room would be more interesting. Widowmaker harshly stabbed at her food on her tray, nearly choking on a piece of potato when a bright blue light deposited Lena beside her.

It had been just over a week since the last time that Lena had appeared when Widowmaker was trying to sleep, she had finally begun to let herself believe that the annoying Brit was gone for good until just now. Lena hadn’t even said anything yet and she was already annoyed, just her presence in the corner of her eye reminded her of the bombardment of questions from last week.. Once she had cleared her throat of the food that she had choked on when Lena appeared, she looked at the girl directly who simply had a massive grin on her face.

“Guess I’m back again, luv!” Widowmaker rolled her eyes and went back to eating her dinner, choosing to ignore Lena.

“Aww c’mon, don’t be going back to that again. I know you can hear me.” Lena put her hands on her hips, and leaned forward over the desk. It surprised Widowmaker when she realised the Brit didn’t cast a shadow.

Merde. Fine. What do you want to annoy me with today?” She leaned back in her chair, bringing another forkful of food up to her mouth.

“What’re you eating?” Widowmaker raised an eyebrow at the hungry look on Lena’s face.

“I am eating whatever Talon has offered today, it appears to be pasta but one cannot really be sure with who they hire to make meals.” Widowmaker paused, letting out a small sigh, “Do you want some?”

“Yes, please! It’s been months since I ate anything.” She turned the fork around in her hand, offering it to Lena.

The fork just passed through Lena’s outstretched hand and fell to the floor as she let go of it, expecting it to be taken from her. Widowmaker frowned at her fork now having been dirtied but Lena’s expression could only be described as pure dejection. She furrowed her brows as she watched Lena continue to stare at the fork where it lay on the carpet.

Widowmaker tutted before speaking, “I will have to get myself a new fork.” Lena mumbled an apology under her breath, her change in demeanour causing Widowmaker to tilt her head to the side in confusion. “What is the matter? You are normally so talkative.”

Lena looked up at her with a broken look on her face. “I can’t even touch anything! I haven’t touched anything or anyone in over two months.” She pursed her lips in response to that, she had never been very good at comforting others.

“Would it make you feel better if I let you ask me as many questions as you like?” Widowmaker simply didn’t know any other way to get the girl to go back to her annoying self, it was preferable to having the girl be upset or, god forbid, cry while she was stuck here. She breathed in relief as the offer seemed to perk up the girl.

“Oh! Yes please. What do you do in your free time? Y’know, when you’re not shooting at people.” Lena asked with a slight giggle.

“I come back here, I run training drills and go to the gun range in order to keep myself bus-” She was interrupted by Lena making a snoring sound, tilting her head back to look at the ceiling.

“That’s so boring, luv! Do you do anything more interesting? I mean, you’re real gorgeous, I’m sure you could easily go pick up a man, or a woman, if you wanted to. Would make for a better time than running drills.” She scoffed in reaction to that, what an absurd idea.

“Non, I have no interest. People are annoying and messy. I prefer to shoot at them from great heights.”

“Wow, you really do live up to your name and being a sniper. You really don’t do anything else?”

“Non, I have no need.”

“You’re so boring, luv. You need to find a hobby that doesn’t involve shooting people. Maybe that’s why you don’t like me so much, you’re not into having fun.” With a roll of her eyes, Widowmaker stood up from her desk and walked over to where she stored Widow’s Kiss.

“Non, I do not like you because you are annoying .” She replied, pulling the manual for her weapon out from the protective case and returning to her seat at her desk. She opened the manual for Widow’s Kiss to the first page and gave Lena one last warning look, though, she didn’t know what to expect from her. It didn’t seem like the girl had any control over how and when she appeared and disappeared.

“What’s that, luv?”

“It is the manual for my rifle, I have it memorised but I figure I might educate you on something. I will read it to you and you will be quiet .” Widowmaker cleared her throat and began reading from the open page, seeing from the corner of her eye that Lena was staring at her in disbelief.

“You’re not seriously going to make me listen to this, are you?” She ignored Lena, continuing to read out loud. Lena let out a whine. “C’mon luv, I’m sorry I called you boring!” Widowmaker ignored Lena’s continued protests and apologies until the girl finally went silent, taking a seat next to her on the floor and just listening to her read. It had taken almost twenty minutes for Lena to finally give in, only making noise each time she would fidget. Obviously the girl had no ability to sit still for a single second but at least she stopped talking. If she kept quiet, maybe she would be able to get something done that afternoon. Widowmaker tried not to expect much from her.

#widowmaker #tracer #widowtracer #fanfic #overwatch #talon tracer

10 notes · View notes

solarbird · 7 years ago

Text

and just like that, she was down, chapter 2: i sure hope you remember me

Surprise! Guess what has a Chapter 2. And a Chapter 3, already a complete first draft. I did not know about any of this until the most words I have ever written in a single day (I think) came pouring out of my brain yesterday.

Is there even a ship name for Emily and Widowmaker? [eta: there is now! gingerspider]

[AO3 link]

[Two months later. Watchpoint Gibraltar.]

With a tooth-shatteringly loud screech, the outer wall of the medical bay peeled away and fell towards the ocean, just as Dr. Ziegler's nurse assistants finished prepping the Widowmaker's first treatment.

"Sorry, luv," Tracer shouted, appearing in the void, one pistol aimed straight at the doctor, as the ringing, clanging metal fell, its sounds fading in the distance. "Can't let y'do that. We made a promise. Back off."

"Lena," said Angela, half-deafened, clinging to her composure, thinking, this shouldn't be happening, but backing away carefully towards her staff. "You lost this argument. I know how you feel about what's going on, but it's better than a death sentence. Do not do this."

"Can't not. I keep my promises, you know that." She fired a shot over the doctor's shoulder. "And stop moving towards your staff. Can't have that, either. What's she on?"

"A twilight sleep sedative, voluntary muscle paralysis, and saline I.V., that's all. We wanted her partially responsive and were about to administer the first dose of treatment. Lena, you do not know what you're doing, this is not a..."

"Stow it. I know she didn't consent and I know this ain't right." Tracer glanced at the closer nurse assistant. "Pull her off the drip. Right now." The assistant looked nervously at Dr. Ziegler, and Tracer decided to make it less optional by shooting the saline unit with her other pistol. "I said now, luv," and the nurse moved to work.

"She can't consent," said the combat medic. "She will murder you in your sleep, and that's if you are very, very lucky."

Kestrel swooped in, a wary eye still attentive to the skies outside. "What's the hold up? We don't have time for chats."

"I have this under control, can you get her up off the table?"

Kestrel waved her gravity blade at the nurse assistant - Odion, she thought - who moved away quite rapidly. Stepping forward, she snapped her fingers in front of Widowmaker's half-closed eyes, and saw those eyes track her fingers, just a little - somebody was in there. "Widowmaker, I'm Kestrel, I sure hope you remember me, we're getting you out of here, just like we said we would, back in London." She pulled the blue woman off the scanning bed, and onto her back. "Let's go, while we still can."

"Emily," warned the doctor, as the flying agent carried the Talon assassin towards the light transport hovering outside, "reconsider. You can't come back from this."

The flying agent paused at the gap, and nodded grimly in return, watching as Tracer backed slowly towards her, one pistol still aimed at the doctor, the other at the two assistants. "Neither can you."

Buggery hell, this isn't how I wanted this to go, thought Lena. "Sorry, doc. Just how it has to be, I guess."

The flyer's loading door closed in front of her as she stepped onto the main deck. She could see Angela diving for the alarms before it sealed, and teleported to the pilot's seat as Kestrel got Widowmaker into the crash couch. "CLEAR!" the flying agent shouted, bracing herself for evac - and Tracer lit the engines up bright.

-----

Widowmaker opened her eyes, but not too much, examining the ceiling. Another Overwatch transport, she thought. Not the same one back from Egypt. Smaller. I am no longer at Gibraltar. How long have I been unconscious? Other than a deep legsrthy, she did not feel different - but then, how would she know? She compared her thoughts, and how they felt, to memories of previous thoughts, and how they felt, and they seemed very much the same, very much unlike Amélie's, her only other reference. It would have to do, for now.

She struggled with half-aware half-memories of being in a... medical unit? And being prepped for something. And voices, some unfamiliar, some... not.

"We've lost the last of 'em," she heard Tracer say. Tracer, who had not been in Egypt, who had not been at Gibraltar... or had she been, at the end? "I'm gonna keep us in the soup, but it should be smooth enough 'till we change ships at Iwik."

Change ships? Iwik? Why would they need to...

"I'm going to check on Widowmaker." Another voice, the flying one, Kestrel, who had also been missing when she'd been taken, taken again, this time, by Overwatch, no doubt to be remade yet again, if not just killed, but whose voice she knew...

"Widowmaker, can you hear me?" The assassin heard the voice, but could not see its source - keeping some distance, perhaps. She let herself smirk, internally. Even sedated, she invoked fear. Good. "You're safe, and you're unchanged. We kept our promise. We broke you out before Ziegler could do anything. You're safe."

What?! The assassin's eyes popped open, all the way open, all at once acutely aware of her situation, before her mind snapped back to promises made some weeks ago in London, promises she did not want to believe, but couldn't quite not. Then Kestrel's face appeared over her, and she was talking, saying, "Hi. We've kept our word. Do you remember being captured in Egypt? We got you out of the Watchpoint. You're safe. Well, as safe as any of us are, now - we're all in real trouble, but since when's that new?"

The words confused her, memory of promises or not. Is it a... no, it makes no sense, this cannot be a trap, they already have me, why would they... She did her best to move, but her arms, so heavy, why...

"Oh," Kestrel breathed, "you're definitely awake now, aren't you? Probably a little panicky, too. I'm sorry, it's the muscle relaxant. They had you pretty well sedated before we reached you, but that's all, as far as we know - they were still prepping the first course of reconditioning meds when I ripped the medbay's walls open."

Widowmaker's eyes locked on Kestrel's, and she shivered, an involuntary action, and the flying agent saw it, and reached to touch, to comfort - but thought better of it. "I... wish I knew whether you found touch comforting."

I wish I did too, thought the spider, a little dismayed by her own reactions as they span round and round in her head. You... kept... your... you... kept your... you kept your... you...

"We've just got away from pursuit craft, and we're heading towards a little nature reserve in Mauritania, where we'll be swapping ships."

"...ah..." Widowmaker managed, and she remained locked on Kestrel, Kestrel, who she barely knew, Kestrel, who'd kept her word, Kestrel, who had... saved... her...

"You're tearing up a bit, can you blink for... oh, good, there y'go. Can you follow my fingers with your eyes?" Widowmaker looked at the Kestrel's fingertips and watched them trace a rectangle, slowly, around her field of vision. They were strong hands, solid, a little square, chunky, much like the rest of the hawk. Strong, and unexpectedly beautiful. Well, I suppose I know who is more butch in their arrangement, she thought, and a "heh" popped out, to as much her surprise as Kestrel's.

"She just laugh?" she heard Tracer say from outside her field of vision. "Hey, luv, you just laugh a little?"

"I think she did, yeah."

"Well, tell her after this, we're headed towards... oh, bugger..."

"What?"

"It's official. Bulletin just went out. We're listed."

"Surprised it took this long. Can they shut down the transport?"

"Nah, I changed the codes and blew the interlock, we'll be fine."

Widowmaker grimaced. Intentionally. And it worked. She tried moving her mouth, and managed, focus back on Kestrel's face, "...liffsted?"

Kestrel sighed, and sat, next to Widow's bunk, leaning close. "Word's gone out. Our personal IFF codes have been invalidated. Overwatch may be illegal, but we had a few privileges within it to revoke... we're now 'foe', not 'friend'."

"Ah." said the blue assassin. Slowly, carefully, she looked into Kestrel's eyes, and whispered, "Je... regrette."

"Don't," replied the hawk. "If Overwatch is gonna start doing things like this, I can't be a part of it anymore anyway."

"And just so y'know," called Tracer, "Talon put a termination order out on your head once Overwatch got y'to Gibraltar. No goin' back there, either."

"...how?"

"Friend of yours let us know. We'll be seein' her in a bit."

"...big mouth...?"

Tracer laughed. "Yeah, she said you called her that."

The spider tested her arms. A little movement at the shoulder, not much yet. But fingers - yes, those, those were free. She tapped at the bed, experimentally, and saw Kestrel smile when she noticed, bright like cloudbreak. "It is, then..." managed the spider, "...us, against the world?" She tried her wrists. Yes. Wrists. More quickly, now. Almost to the elbow.

Us, Kestrel thought. Already? "Sounds like."

A louder heh, and the spider found she could move her head. "Then... a challenge. Good." She gave Kestrel a fierce look; it excited the flying agent in ways she did not expect, as did the spider unexpectedly - if weakly - taking her hand in her own. "We will destroy them both, cherie," the assassin said, with utter conviction. "We cannot lose."

-----

"As far as she knew," said the Swiss doctor, some hours later, "it was just sedation." Power had not yet been restored to the medbay, but the wall had, at least, been braced and covered, and structural stability insured. She sat at a small table in medbay's small consultation room.

"So you told her nothing about the enhanced receptivity effects?" asked the hirsute scientist sitting opposite and to her right, snacking on his favourite peanut butter, with oatmeal cookies and lactose-free milk. Hoisting girders about - that was heavy labour. He deserved a treat.

"Of course not," said the doctor, sipping her coffee. "But I didn't lie, we hadn't undone anything Talon did - and it really was a sedative, just one that leaves patients a little more..." she waved one hand back and forth, "...open to ideas, while under its influence. It would've helped with our treatments of her, helped her return to who she really was."

"Nicely played," said Jack Morrison, nursing a judicious amount of Tennessee bourbon. "Hope this doesn't come back to bite us on the ass any more than it already has."

Dr. Ziegler smiled warmly at her old friend, sitting opposite and to her left. "I'd suspected Lena might do something she'd come to regret. I'd hoped she wouldn't, or if she did, I'd hoped I could talk her down. But if push came to shove... she might as well have that thin chance." She shuddered. "I think she has made a grave mistake. I do not think that... construct... is a person or can be reformed, and I wasn't lying about being killed in her sleep, either."

"You did what you could," said the soldier. He put down his glass and rubbed at his eyes. "She's always been impulsive, but this is another level. If they come at us... we'll have to assume the worst. They might as well be Talon." He put the drink down, and rubbed his eyes.

"That will not be difficult," smirked Angela. "I am quite angry, both about being held at gunpoint, and at losing my best chance to recover Amélie. And Kestrel," the doctor snorted, "she made a strongly negative impression on Gina and Odion. Gossip will insure everyone knows."

"I know their hearts are in the right place," Winston insisted. "Particularly Lena's. I think they're both being extremely foolish - but do not doubt their hearts."

"Just their judgements. And maybe their sanity," said the soldier.

The three sat quietly, for some moments, letting what happened today finally settle in as the sun went down. Morrison, thinking maybe they should've just handed the Widowmaker over to legal authorities; Winston, wishing he'd found a middle way, something to keep everyone happy, while knowing no such path existed; and Ziegler, angry, but still afraid for the two women who had, to her mind, made such a terrible mistake.

"To absent friends," Winston lifted his glass of water. "May they not become present enemies."

"I'll drink to that," said Morrison, raising the last of his bourbon.

Angela lifted her coffee cup, touching it against her friends' drinks. "To absent friends," she echoed. May they not be dead come morning.

4 notes · View notes

vee-angel · 5 years ago

Text

Talynn’s Edge (part 1)

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

(Part 1)

Nothing technically wrong with a Baiter checking the competition, but I’m not the type for making a spectacle of it. It’s why I had the rest of my team sit this one out.

By the sound of cheers, the audience got a thrill out of it. Still… reckless to put her beastie so close to the ground. And god-damned disrespectful to fuck up the nice new arena walls.

“You got a thing for feet or something?” I asked teasingly. She responded by shifting with this coy little grin. “Oh fuckin’ hell! You do, don’t you??” She nodded.

“Can’t have you falling in love with a rival Baiter, can we? You might get soft when you’re in the pit. Don’t want any doubt when I take down that beastie of yours that I did it fair.”

She had my interest piqued with that one. “You and your beastie got a secret edge, do you?”

She shrugged, “I guess so.”

“That a promise?”

She stared into my eyes real intense while she considered. “Winner fucks the loser any way they choose. I promise if you do.”

“It’s true that’s what they fucking say, yeah.”

“Are you fucking mental?!”

This gash of a shit-eating grin opened up across her face as she looked back at me, “Can’t have you falling in love with a rival Baiter, can we? You might get soft.”

I shook my head, she was just fucking with me to get a bit of payback. That was fair enough. “Anyone ever tell you you’re a goddamn psychopath?”

“I’m told it’s one of my better qualities.”

“Look, I’ll be honest with you. The estate gang bit’s a fabrication. Got into a mishap and flipped my van a while back... I ain’t never been raped.”

Yankee bitch was a spoiled twat, and fucking certifiable, but she’ll be a hell of a rival.

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

“What? No, she didn’t know she was talking to you when she agreed. She doesn’t-”

“Oh.” was all I said at first. “The audience will enjoy that.” I finally added.

“As will you, Tara-Lynn. You always enjoy feeling through my body. I know you do. She’ll be so small, so tight as we rape her to death.”

#talynnsedge

12 notes · View notes