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adrenaline-roulette · 5 years

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Four Eighths

Pairing: Four x Eight (Reader) Word count: 7k+ Warnings: Language, angst, minor original character death, grief, mentions of illness and treatments, stress, breakdown, drinking, drunk, stealing, Four is redeemed! *Disclaimer, here we are, the first briefing for who the Ghosts new target will be! This chapter is dark, I’ll warn you now, and I would dare say the next few chapters will be angsty too! Though if you’re all very well behaved, then maybe we’ll start getting some fluff and maybe a bit extra going on between Four and Eight.... Read Chapters One, Two, Three and Four first (Or don’t? I can’t make you do anything, after all I’m just text...)

Chapter Five: I need a Doctor

“I am the fairy king! Bow to me or you shall die!”

You stare up at the shouting blonde stood atop One’s trailer, the fairy lights you had purchased weeks earlier were now coiled around his body, now no longer producing the beautiful glow they once had. Up until a few minutes ago, the lights had been plugged in and twinkling away merrily, that was until Four had somehow gotten himself tangled up in them. He then decided that the shining bulbs suited his alter ego of ‘Fairy King’ quite nicely and had proceeded to race around base with them on, only pausing for a few moments when he realised, they no longer lit up.

The rest of the team were either asleep, or trying to sleep, you knew for a fact that One was in the latter category, as he had screamed at the top of his lungs “Stop fucking tap dancing on my roof!” The moment Four had begun parading around on the trailer.

You want to tell him to stop, but considering you were the reason he was so highly intoxicated right now, and that you were only one or two drinks away from being on his level of drunk, you find that it really isn’t your place to tell him off. “Oh, powerful fairy king!” You call out, lowering your torso in a sloppy bow, keeping your head tilted up so you can watch Four closely. He was teetering on falling over, which if it weren’t for how close he currently was to the edge of the trailer, then you wouldn’t think anything of it. “Your majesty, perhaps we should move this conversation to more sturdy ground?”

Four wobbles on unsteady legs, his face growing pale as he backs away from the edge of the trailer. For someone who spent most of his time jumping from skyscraper to skyscraper, it was rather comical to see him afraid of what would only be a short drop. “That is an excellent idea my loyal subject, now help me down please!”

You’re not exactly sure how you’re supposed to help Four down, but it likely shouldn’t have gone this way. Skipping over to the bus, a half bottle of Jack Daniel’s sloshing away in your hand, you pause just beneath Four, waving up at him with a cheesy grin, before extending your arms in front of you, with the plan of catching him. Without even so much as a pause, Four leaps off the trailer and into your waiting arms. Anyone who wasn’t currently shitfaced would’ve seen that this was a terrible plan, and that it wouldn’t end the way you both expected. However, being shitfaced as you were, it took you more than a few seconds to comprehend what had happened. One moment you were standing upright, and the next, your entire body had been slammed into the ground bellow, a heavy weight pressing against your front. “Ugh, fuck…” You groan, blinking bleary eyes down at the mass that was slowly crushing you.

Four looks up at you, a lopsided grin brightening up his entire face. “ ‘As anyone ever told you that you’re very comfortable?” He mumbles, speech slurred and slow.

“Can’t say that they have.”

“Well, you are.”

Four lowers his head down, cheek resting against your chest as his eyes flutter closed. You want to protest; this man was five foot eight and made of pure muscle! Yet your aching body began to relax, as you heard tiny snores escape the Brit. As you allowed yourself to drift off, ignoring how you were sleeping on the ground, your mind started to wonder. ‘How had this man, who you had shared no more than five consecutive words with at one time, gone from being the person you avoided at all costs, and now to the person you got piss drunk with, and allowed to fall asleep on you?’

*****

“Briefing room, five minutes!” Seven called behind your closed trailer door, not bothering to knock, knowing full well his voice could be heard clearly through the thin metal that was your trailer. You’d just finished your morning routine of; wake up, drink coffee, go for a run, drink more coffee while you updated yourself on the happenings of the world on your laptop, eat breakfast, have a ten minute internal battle over whether you should go back to bed or not, in that time drink a third cup of coffee, ignore Five’s suggestion of perhaps not ingesting so much caffeine, shower, then return to your trailer while your hair dried and go through the building blueprints One had sent you.

Slowly, you stood up from your bed, stretching your arms above your head after having sat hunched over for too long. You close your laptop, then set about searching for a sweater to throw on over the top of your shirt. Outside, the base was stifling hot, yet for some reason, the briefing room was perpetually freezing. One always insisted on turning on every single fan in the shipping container, and it was just too much! After the third team meeting there, you had vowed never to return without a sweater. Finally, you found the one you were looking for, dark gray with a red #mood splattered across the chest. The sweater itself was perhaps one or two sizes too large, but it was warm and snuggly.

You made your way towards the briefing room, slipping the sweater over your head when you were halfway there. As you pull the material down your torso, you fail to realise that you’d put the garment on backwards, coming to an abrupt halt when you notice that the hood was over your head, completely obscuring your face. Behind you, Four silently leaps from the roof of a shipping container, walking up behind you as you struggle to readjust the sweater. “Oh yeah, you should wear all your clothes like that. Prove to everyone that you’re as stupid as your role in the team is.” He snarls, pushing past you, knocking his side against your shoulder.

You can feel your eyes roll, trailing behind Four as you both head towards the meeting “You know, at first it was kinda intimidating, the whole, ‘you don’t belong here’ schtick. But really, now it’s just sad. You don’t have to feel threatened by me, Luke never felt threatened when he discovered Leia could use the force too! As a Skywalker, you should know better than to allow your emotions to cloud your judgement.” There’s a grin clawing at your lips, which you no longer bother to hide, picking up speed and walking past the scowling blonde. If you had looked back you would’ve seen Four raise his eyebrows in surprise, not having expected you to talk back. Quietly, he was actually rather impressed that you had, even if in doing so you had continued with the Star Wars trend.

*****

“Doctor Genevieve Lushnick, for twenty years she has worked as a general practitioner in a family owned GP clinic, and if she has it her way, will continue doing so until retirement. However, over time, her remedies have become more extreme. She stopped prescribing antibiotics to help fight infections, and instead would recommend her patients undergo unnecessary surgeries.” One begins, displaying images of the Doctor on the screen at the front of the room. Just the sound of her name makes you sick to your stomach, a sweat breaking out on your forehead, though no one seems to notice.

“This is Doctor Gregory Lushnick, Genevieve’s husband. He, is the surgeon who has been performing the procedures, along with a well-paid, and unethical team of doctors and nurses. Genevieve will suggest the surgery, telling the patient that it is a matter of life and death, she will then refer them on to Gregory, who will of course agree with her course of action. The patient, who at this point has been warned if they aren’t operated on soon, they will die, will pay an exuberant fee, any amount the Lushnick’s request, which they then pocket for themselves.”

Three lifts his brows at the information they had all been presented with. “How have they gotten away with this? Surely they’ve had patients who know at least a little bit about general health, who know if a procedure they’ve been recommended is necessary or not?”

One nods, folding his arms across his chest while gazing out over his team, all with an equal expression of shock and disgust. Except for you, who looks on the verge of tears. “That actually happened a few times. A Doctor went and visited Genevieve after hearing about the outrageous number of procedures she had recommended. He went in complaining of an ingrown toenail that had become infected, which he did in fact have at the time, but was treating it himself. Genevieve took one look at it, and informed him that the infection was too far gone, and if they didn’t remove his toe urgently, the infection would likely spread, and perhaps enter his blood stream. He asked for some further testing to ensure Genevieve was correct, to which she obliged, and sent him to pathology to have blood taken.”

“Yeah, but if he got blood tests then that’s it right? Game over? The tests would prove that there’s nothing wrong with ‘im.” Four interjects, leaning his hip against the edge of the table everyone was stood around, taking care to watch you from his peripherals.

“In a normal situation, then yes, you’d be correct. But this isn’t normal, nothing about the Lushnick’s is normal. The test results came back in, and of course, they read perfectly, no deadly infection obviously. But the convenient thing about living in the modern age we do, is that all test results are sent through electronically. All Genevieve had to do, was edit the results, and suddenly, her patient was suffering any ailment she wished! When she presented the results to him, and he played along, saying he would organise the procedure shortly. Instead, he went to the Minister of Health, and presented his findings. The Lushnick’s found out who he was, and what was happening and fled the country. No one knows where they went, so they escaped punishment.”

“Alright, so they fucked off somewhere else, but they’re not hurting anyone, anymore right? So how does this affect us?” Seven shrugged, One’s eyes boring into his.

“I know exactly where the Lushnick’s are. They’ve been performing their surgeries in secret for a few years now, but they’ve moved on to more desperate patients, and are providing more extreme remedies. Rather than patients finding her, Genevieve is seeking out her own patients, the one’s who are unable to afford a visit to the Doctor’s surgery. She’ll play nice, offer them a free consult to ensure they’re all healthy, then she’ll drop the health bomb on them. These people are so afraid, that they will believe anything Genevieve tells them, and will do anything to get the money needed for their life saving surgery.”

Your hand grips the back of a chair, while your other presses flat against the wall nearest you. Your head is swimming, memories flooding back to you in a tidal wave. Heart racing so fast you think it’s about to explode, all the while sweat drips from your skin. No one notices, no one cares. They all have questions that need answering.

Four notices though, how could he not? For weeks now, he had done nothing but watch you closely, always checking to make sure you were safe, and not putting yourself in any unnecessary danger. If you were going to stay with the team, and it looked as if you were, then he would keep an eye on you from a distance. He may not be your friend, but that didn’t mean he cared any less, not really.

“What kind of surgeries are they doing now?” Five asks, her hands resting on her hips.

“Similar to what they used to suggest, only now more extreme because they have a more desperate clientele. From what I could find, the most chilling was what she and Greg did to a fifteen year old boy. He was complaining of shortness of breath, and if he had been seen by any other Doctor, he would’ve been diagnosed with mild asthma, and given an inhaler to use. But Genevieve instead informed him and his father that he had a potentially life-threatening lung infection.” One pauses, a frown creasing his features as he looks over at you, your skin having grown pale and your eyes unfocused, you looked about ready to collapse. He pulls he gaze away for a moment to finish, though his eyes continue to dart back over to you. “The boy underwent surgery to have an entire lung removed. His father paid nearly twenty thousand for his son to have the surgery. Two weeks after the procedure, the boy died.”

A chocked sob rips from your lips, causing everyone to focus on you, six pairs of eyes staring you down. They all either thought you were crazy, or just overly emotional over the death of a kid you didn’t know. How could they know the truth, it’s not as if you had ever told anyone? “Eight? Are you alright?” Five asks slowly, reaching a hand towards you just as you step backwards.

“Hey, sit down for a second kid…” Three offers, gesturing to the chair you had just released from your vice like grip.

“It’s the sweater, she’s probably just over heated.” Four shrugs, though even with his air of indifference, his eyes are clouded with worry.

Another sob followed by your nose sniffling. Were you crying? When had that started? You bring one hand up to your face, your fingers shaking the entire time, until they press against your cheeks, only to pull away a second later damp with tears. Lips are moving, but you don’t hear any of the words that are spoken, there’s a ringing in your ears which is too loud to ignore, and it drowns out everything other than your internal voice. The expressions the Ghosts wore changed from that of curiosity and caution, to full blown panic now as it dawned on them, that you truly weren’t alright. Just as One walks over to you, you spin on your heel, racing away from him and the team. You’re vaguely aware of people calling out after you, but you don’t turn back.

You throw yourself into the gray McLaren which had unofficially become your car, after the driving display you had given a few weeks ago. The engine revs as you try to clear your mind enough to decide on where you were going. Should you be driving in the state you were now? Probably not. Were you going to anyway? Definitely. Were you more than willing to run over Four who now stood between you and the exit you wanted to take? Without a doubt. Pressing the tab on the door, the window lowers at what felt like a comically slow rate.

Four had sprinted after you the moment you left, and was now trying to decide what his next move should be. Behind the car, he could see the others grouped together, all unsure of what to do, just like him. “Either get in the fucking car or move. You have ten seconds or I’m driving through you!” You bark out of the window, providing him with the motivation required for him to spring into action.

The passenger door slams shut, with Four diving in just milliseconds before you slam on the gas, the car fishtailing for a moment, before flying through base. Four stares dead ahead, his mouth slightly agape, while you glare at the road, hands gripping the steering wheel so tight your knuckles had turned white. When you had given Four his options just before, you had never expected him to pick the first, and from the looks of things, neither had he.

Silence fills the speeding car for twenty odd minutes, your eyes locked on the road ahead, while Four was staring out the passenger window, his elbow propped up on the centre console, while his other hand was resting with his fingers pressed to his lips. You felt as if you were being strangled in the silence, but neither of you were prepared to break it, both too stubborn to admit defeat, and voice your curiosity. Reaching one hand out, your hover above the power button for the stereo, taking your eyes off the road for just a second.

Oh, how things can change in one second.

The car had been travelling in an undisturbed straight line down the freeway, though all of that changed in a heartbeat. With your eyes focused elsewhere, you never saw the massive pothole looming ever closer to the McLaren. Just as you look back at the road, your eyes fall to the dip in the road, something that you should’ve avoided at all costs. Your barely functioning brain kicks in at the last minute, and just as one of your front tyre’s dips into the pothole, you spin the steering wheel, attempting to keep your remaining tyres from hitting the hole too. It was too little too late however, and instead of avoiding the pothole, the car spins out, flying off the edge of the road and skidding along the red dirt uncontrollably. Your shriek is the first sound to pierce the silence the entire drive, and it seems to be what snapped Four out of his shock.

Four reaches out, taking the wheel in one hand, attempting to straighten out the cars path, while his other hand wraps around the handbrake, pulling it up with all his might. The McLaren spins for another few seconds, until coming to a halt, a cloud of dust having been kicked up by the erratic tyres. “Jesus Christ Eight! What the fuck was that about?”

You can’t answer him, your words are choked in your throat, and refuse to budge. You unclip your seatbelt and bolt out of the car, leaving the keys in the ignition as you sprint away from both the car and Four. Why was he here? Out of everyone that could’ve blocked your path and jumped into the car, why did it have to be fucking Four? He didn’t give a shit what was going on with you on a regular day to day basis, so why the hell would he care about this?

Where were you even running to? You were in the middle of nowhere, and all that was around you was desert and the highway. There was nowhere for you to run to. As this realisation hits you, you stop dead in your tracks. Heart pounding in your chest. Clenching your fists at your sides, your drop to your knees in the middle of the desert, titling your head back, and screaming gutturally towards the sky, as fresh tears flow freely down your cheeks now.

*****

Four had never seen someone lose control as you were doing now, he’d seen his fair share of people in pain, screaming and crying over the death of a loved one or because they were in pain. But this, it felt different to him. Watching you collapse to your knees, he felt his chest tighten, and his own breath hitched in his throat. Your scream rumbled through his entire body, and echoed around the empty sky, there was nothing around for miles that would block your screams. He didn’t know what else to do, so he grabbed the keys, pocketed them before jogging over to you.

“Hey… Hey, it’s okay – You’re gonna be okay.” He whispers, kneeling beside you now, wrapping his arms around your shaking torso. He was sure that if it weren’t for the vulnerable position you found yourself in, that you would never return his embrace as you now were. But you did, your arms circling around his neck, as you pressed your face against his shoulder.

“Any other target… It could’ve been anyone else.” You cry out, hot tears splashing against his thin t-shirt. Four tightens his grip around you, slowly lowering himself into a sitting position, and guiding you down with him. You follow him down, and he half expects you to break out of your emotions when he settles you against his lap, though that never happens.

He rubs soothing circles against your back, listening for the sounds of your cries to ease, before he finally asks. “What d’you mean Eight? What’s wrong with the target?”

You shake your head, pressing further into his shoulder, as another body shaking sob overtakes you. Your mind is swimming in horrifying memories, and all you want to do is to claw them out of your brain. You want to forget; you need to forget. “Eight, look at me… Talk to me.”

Four rests his hands on both of your shoulders, gently guiding you away from him so he could look you in the eyes red rimmed and now puffy, though your tears had slowed at the very least. “Hey – Hi…”

*****

You blink across at Four, sniffling as you attempt to clear your thoughts. Why did he suddenly care what was wrong with you? For weeks now, he barely spoke a word to you, when he did, it was always something snarky or sarcastic. There was never any care for your wellbeing, so where had this all come from? “Hullo… I’m sorry. Please, just forget about that. I’m sorry.”

You move to pull away from Four, but his large hands on your shoulders tighten their grip, and you honestly just don’t have the energy to fight against him. “I’m not going to forget about this. Talk to me Eight, what happened back there?”

“What happened? I lost control of the car, it spun out. Happens to the best of us.” You shrug, opting to play dumb for a little while, just to see how far you would get with doing so.

There’s a fierce glare that settles over Four’s eyes, and you can feel a physical chill run down your spine at the intensity of his gaze.

“Don’t. Don’t you dare do that.”

“Do what?”

“Pretend to be stupid. We both know you’re the furthest from stupid a person could possibly get.” Four breathes out deeply, closing his eyes for a moment, before opening them and reconnecting his sight with yours.

You’re not sure which is more likely to occur first, your heart stopping entirely or for it to literally explode under the amount of stress you’re experiencing right now. “It’s the Lushnick’s. I – I know them. Or at least, I did know them.”

Four stills his movements, where he had been drawing tiny patterns against your shoulders, he no longer seems able to do even that. “What do you mean you know the Lushnick’s?” His voice comes out strangled, and if you didn’t know any better, you would think he was worried about you.

“Doctor Genevieve, the clinic she worked in was local to my family when I was little. When I was around five, I had a babysitter, Kellie, she would look after me every afternoon after school, and some weekends. She would’ve been around seventeen, and at the time was my best friend. I didn’t get along with the kids in my class, so I turned to Kellie, she was always there for me, and I loved her like a sister.” There, that was the easy part to talk about. You could just leave the story there, but really, you know you couldn’t do that. You had given away too much to stop now. “Every afternoon, she would walk me home from school. On the walk, we would pass by the clinic where Doctor Lushnick worked. One afternoon, when we were heading home, Kellie started to feel dizzy, I remember she was struggling to walk, and I was worried. I left her on a bench, and ran to the Doctor’s clinic. The receptionist grabbed the first doctor she could find, Genevieve, and we all ran to Kellie to help her.”

“Fuck Eight, I’m sorry –“

You cut Four off before he can say anymore. “Let me finish. There’s more to tell, and I can’t stop now.” You pause for a moment, waiting to see if he had anything else to say, but clearly he thought better than to speak up again. “Doctor Lushnick performed heaps of tests, I remember she kept sending Kellie for more and more blood tests, x-rays and ultrasounds. Always telling her and her family that the results had come back inconclusive. It must’ve been around two weeks, until Kellie was given her diagnosis. Heart failure. I don’t remember much of what happened after that, there was a lot of adult conversations had that I wasn’t made a part of. What I do know though, is that Genevieve sent Kellie to have a heart transplant. Kellie was terrified, I can still hear her crying, begging her parents not to make her go through with the surgery. Her parents didn’t want her to have it done either, but Genevieve and Gregory made it sound as if it were her only option. They told Kellie and her parents that without the surgery, she would die.”

Tears had returned to your eyes now, and Four pulled you subtly closer to him, not enough so you were embraced as you were before, but enough that you could feel his warmth soaking into you, and hear his steady heartbeat. “Kellie had the surgery, and was recovering relatively well. She was in the hospital still so the nurses could keep an eye on her while she healed. After school one day, I lied and told my parents I was going to a friend’s house, and that no one needed to pick me up until later. Instead I went to the hospital to visit Kellie. I had gone to see her twice after the surgery, and both times she had seemed alright, at least in my eyes she did. This third time though, when I got to her room, everything was different. She was pale and sweating, her chest heaving as she gasped for breath. There was no one else in the room for me to get, so I pressed the call button from the side of her bed, and in came running nurses and doctors. No one really explained to me what had happened that day until I was older. And it wasn’t until I was much older, did I realise truly what had happened, and with the information One gave us today, I knew for sure. Kellie was never supposed to have had that surgery, her body underwent unnecessary trauma, which it couldn’t heal from. Doctor Genevieve and Gregory Lushnick murdered my best friend.”

Suddenly, you were pressed against Four’s chest, as your felt tears stream over your cheeks. He held you firmly, his warm embrace was one of comfort and peace, two things you had never associated with the man. “When One was telling us about what they had done to others, I just couldn’t stop the memories from coming back, everything I felt back then, it all came rushing back to me.”

“It’s alright, fuck Eight. I’m sorry, I am so sorry. I wish there was more I could say..”

You gulp, before looking up at him, your eyes scanning over his handsomely chiselled face for the very first time. In the time you had been with the team, not once had you had the opportunity to look at Four up close, and of course this would be your first chance. While sitting on his lap, crying your heart out, as you both grew more covered in dust. “Promise me we’ll make them pay. Promise me that we’ll get them both, and that they won’t get away.”

Four allows a deep breath to flow from his parted lips, the lines on his forehead smoothing as he takes in your words. “I promise you, they won’t make it through this alive.”

*****

Allowing Four to drive you both back to base had likely been one of the best decisions you had made in a long time. Despite the panic and anger which had clouded you before, now faded to a dull shadow, you were still shaky, and your concentration was easily lost. Four driving truly was the safest option, if you both wanted to arrive home in one piece. “Can we stop in town?”

Four glances at you for a moment, retracting his hand which was resting on your knee. The entire drive, you would find Four resting his hand somewhere on your leg. To you, it was grounding and comforting, serving to remind you that you weren’t alone. It let you know that someone else on the team understood your connection to the targets. For Four however, you weren’t sure if he was doing it out of habit, or for comfort too. “Sure, what do you need?”

Turning to look at his side glance, you allow a tiny smile to tug at the corners of your lips. “I desperately need a drink. You’re welcome to join me if you’d like, but I’m sure you’d rather forget that this all happened.” You shrug softly, before turning to look back out of the passenger window.

Four’s eyes grow wide at your comment, and he finds himself at a loss for words. “I- You- What?”

Pressing your forehead against the window, you take a deep breath in, before blowing out through your mouth, fogging the glass up in the process. “I appreciate you following me out here today, I really do. But, let’s be honest, we’re not friends. You hate me. You’ve made that perfectly clear since the day I arrived. So, while I’m happy to extend the invitation of getting piss drunk with me, I’m not expecting you to accept.”

“I don’t.”

“You don’t what?”

“Hate you… I’m sca – Way too sober to have this conversation right now. But put it this way, I don’t hate you.”

Four focuses back on the road, while his words swirl through your mind. ‘Scared? Was he about to say he was scared? Scared of what though? He always seemed so grounded, almost as if nothing could touch him, let alone hurt him…’ On the drive away from base, you hadn’t paid any attention to where you were headed, not really. All you knew at the time, was that you needed to get as far away from everyone as was humanly possible. Which is why it came as a surprise to you when Four pulled into a small town, not the one you had visited with Two and Five a few weeks ago, but an entirely different one which you had never known to exist. “There’s a liquor store just up that side street there.” Four observes, while pointing to the left of the town, where sure enough, there was an opening in the path for the side street.

You nod, climbing out of the car, just as Four lowers his window and the passenger side window. “I’ll be back in a few. Want anything?”

Four shakes his, carding his fingers through is windswept curls. “Thanks, I’m good.” It’s said with such a firm edge to the words, that you know the conversation is over, before it really began.

As you walk down the street, you look back over your shoulder at Four and the McLaren. His wrists are wresting on top of the steering wheel, as he picks at his nails, clearing them of the dirt that had gathered there from earlier. Music was pumping through the speakers, and you could see the car shaking with the intensity of the bass Turning the corner, the liquor store comes into view, a small bell chiming as the door pushes open. A man, likely in his forties or fifties is stood near the cooler section, collapsing empty beer boxes. Looking at the few shelves that lined the wall nearest the register, you feel a lump rise in your throat. In your haste to leave base, you hadn’t brought anything with you, no phone, no wallet, no money!

“Can I help you with anything?” The man calls from the opposite side of the store, eyeing you suspiciously.

“Just looking thank you!”

The man squints at you, his eyebrows furrowed. “Hope you’ve got some ID kid…. You don’t look old enough to be buying anything from here…”

Your jaw drops at his words, a scowl marching across your features. How dare he question your age, suggesting you weren’t old enough to drink! You had never been ID’d before now, and now that you were not only dead, and still waiting on One to present you with your fake ID’s. But you didn’t even have your bloody wallet with you, where said fake would be kept, this was the time, of all times where the world decided to turn against you and start questioning your age? “Of course I have ID with me.”

The man watches you for another moment, as if assessing whether he could trust you or not. With a final huff, he bends over and picks up a box of beers, pushing the cooler door open and heading inside to restock the fridge shelves, clearly having decided you were trustworthy. Oh buddy, wrong decision.

Maybe it was because of the shithouse afternoon you had just experienced, or maybe it was because you were sick and tired of people making assumptions about you. No matter the why’s, you found yourself snatching bottles of Jack Daniel’s, Malibu, and salted caramel vodka. Without a second thought, you cradled them against your chest, then bolted for the front door.

“Get back here you thief!” The man screams after you, having re-emerged from the fridge just as the door swung closed behind you.

This was wrong, so fucking wrong! It was one thing to steal money from a stranger’s bank account (Granted that stranger then went on to fake your death, and now was your employer…) Or to work from afar and have people do the dirty work, while you reaped the benefits, they did the snatching and grabbing, you just made sure they didn’t get caught. But this? This was you stealing, with no one else there! This was all you!

Your feet pound against the pavement, the McLaren coming into view just as the store clerk sprints after you. “Open the fucking door Four!” You shriek from the top of your lungs, praying to any deity who may listen that he will hear you over the pumping music.

Despite your thieving tendencies, someone answers your prayer, and Four looks up and over to you through the open passenger window, his eyebrows shooting up into his hair line as he spots you sprinting at full speed towards him, three bottles clutched in your arms, as a pissed man follows close behind. He leans across the centre console, pushing the door open before returning to his seat fully and twisting the key in the ignition. With the sound of the door slamming shut behind you, he throws the car into reverse, getting you both the hell out of town! “What the actual fuck Eight? What did you do?”

You stare down at the three bottles, now laying by your feet, rocking back and forth as the car moves. Laughter bubbles from your chest, and you can’t help the burst of chuckles that rip through you. “I didn’t have any money…”

For a brief moment, you could’ve sworn you saw Four grin, though the look is soon replaced by a sigh. “And you didn’t think to come and ask me if I had any?”

“Do you have money on you?”

“No… But that’s not the point! Your first instinct was to steal what you wanted!”

“Are you seriously telling me off for stealing? Sorry, last I heard, One met you after a robbery gone wrong.”

Four’s grip on the wheel tightens for a few moments, before his knuckles relax somewhat, tension visibly leaving his shoulders. “Now we’ve gotta find a new liquor store.”

*****

Walking through base, you felt everyone’s eyes on you, all boring down on you, as if thinking if they stared long enough then they would understand what had happened to you. There’s a part of you that wants to explain yourself, and to reassure the team that you are in fact, not insane as they may now think. However, before you even have the chance to consider explaining yourself, Four is dragging you by the hand towards your trailer. “If anyone needs us, don’t. Just don’t fucking need us!” He calls out behind you, gripping the bottle of Malibu with such intensity your genuinely worried he might smash the glass.

Four’s warning seemed to have worked, at least for the time being, and you watched as the Ghosts all shuffled away, back to whatever they had been doing before your arrival. One stays out for a few moments longer, arms folded across his chest, and both eyebrows raised in confusion. You can see the questions he’s dying to ask dancing across his eyes, mixed with a look of what could only be described as, understanding. You don’t take the time to dwell on One, as you’re far too preoccupied with Four who had swung your trailer door open, and was pushing you inside and up the steps, his hands pushing against your lower back to keep you moving.

Four followed you up, placing the Malibu on the small table opposite your bed, while you plonked down on the bed, the bottles of Jack and vodka falling to the foot of your mattress. “Right, you stay here as long as you need to. Drink, get smashed, scream, cry. Whatever you wanna do.” His broad shoulders shrug, as he turns away from you, and steps back towards the door, resting both hands in his front pants pockets.

Quickly, you twist off the cap of the vodka, the strong scent of salted caramel filling the air. “The offer still stands. Only this time, I’d like you to join me…”

Four turns on the spot, looking back at you in surprise. “You sure?”

“Yes, I – I want you here with me please.”

There’s no need to ask him a second time, though you would’ve if necessary. Four reaches out and takes the vodka from your outstretched hand, bringing it to his lips and taking a deep swig. Just as you do the same with the Jack. “Cheers to your first mission briefing.” He chuckles, his crystalline eyes sparkling in joy.

You roll your eyes up at him, as you move further back on the bed, leaning your back against the wall. “Let’s try not to make this a tradition yeah?”

“It’s been five seconds, and you already hate drinking with me enough to never want to do it again?”

“That’s not what I meant. The drinking, I’d be willing for the to be a tradition. The whole, me running away from base thing though? Yeah, let’s not do that again.”

Four nods, his curls swaying under the gesture, before he takes another swig, savouring the sharp after burn the vodka left in the back of his throat. You crawl up off the bed, and shuffle over to the small, mint green radio that was set up towards the back of the trailer, fiddling with the dials before it decided to pick up something other than static. “I won’t let that happen again… You won’t be hurt like that again.” Four breathes out, though the words are drowned out by the functioning radio.

“Fuck! I love this song!” You squeal, turning the volume up to full, dancing to the blasting music.

“Seriously, Kesha? Out of all the music you could love, it’s this?”

“Don’t be an ass. This is my trailer, and my booze, I can and will kick you out if you’re not careful!”

“It’s stolen booze, so technically, the shop still owns it, not you….”

You don’t really think about your next move, all you know is that one moment you were drinking from the bottle of Jack while dancing and being sassed at by Four, and the next, you had grabbed one of your multiple decorative pillows, and had begun attacking him with it. Four grabbed his own pillow, and retaliated in kind, swatting you left right and centre, all the while attempting to not spill either of your drinks. And thus started the great pillow war of 2020.

*****

You don’t know what time it is, there’s a gentle stream of light washing over you as you carefully peel your eyes open, though a set of curtains over the window make it impossible for you to see anything else, other than the suns rays. Lifting your arms above your head, you stretch your aching body, before finally giving in and opening your eyes fully. It takes far too long for you to realise something was wrong. This was not where you had fallen asleep, quite the opposite actually. You know for a fact you had fallen asleep outside, in the dirt no less, with Four using you as a pillow. Yet somehow, you were now alone, in a strangers bed, inside a strangers trailer….

You sit bolt upright, your stomach instantly churning at your sudden movements, you blanch at the taste of bile as it rises in your throat, swallowing it back down. Slowly, you look around the trailer, finding nothing familiar in the small space. “Four?” It had to be his home… You had been inside everyone else’s trailer, but never his. With a great deal of care, you pull yourself off the bed, pressing a hand over your eyes for a moment, as you feel a wave of dizziness wash over you. “Four? Hello?”

Looking around, you find no trace of him, or at least nothing that pointed to his whereabouts. You pass by a mirror as you walk towards the door, and you take a moment to assess your reflection. Your hair was knotted, sweaty, and had flecks of dirt tangled in it, there were deep set bags under your eyes, and overall you looked, and felt like death. Though all that combined, you still felt better now, than you had yesterday during the briefing.

You allow the trailer door to swing shut behind you, spotting a determined looking Two, marching across base and headed to the rec room. Was there another meeting this morning? Had you slept through the announcement, and Four couldn’t be bothered to wake you up? There was no time to think over the millions of possibilities as to what had happened, all you know, was that if Two was storming off somewhere, it was likely the best course of action would be to follow her.

Four Eighths Taglist (If you want to be added just let me know!) @not-the-cleavers @jinxfirebolt18902 @sj-thefan @softnorris @dear-vista @mixer2b

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Chapter six out now!

#four x reader #four x eight #billy/four #ben hardy/ billy #ben hardy fic #ben hardy four #four x you #6 underground fanfiction #enemies to friends #6 underground one #6 underground two #6 underground three #6 underground four #6 underground five #6 underground seven #comfort #four is a good friend #he also provides nice hugs

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larkiwrites · 4 years

Text

The Lucky One

AU: Marvel / MCU Characters: Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson, Natasha Romanoff, Wanda Maximoff, Reader (Y/N) Word Count: 1,658 Pairing: N/A Warnings: None Summary: A Marvel/MCU AU one-shot where you’re a part of the Avenger’s team and one day, while taking a break, you find (and bring home) a stray dog... without consulting the team.

You had lived with the world’s mightiest heroes, the Avengers, for about a year now. They had found use in you and you had happily accepted their offer to move into the tower, it was a fresh start. Today you took a break from life in general and made your way around the heart of the city; Times Square. You didn’t get free time often so when the opportunity struck, you ran with it.

After getting a hot dog from a street vendor you walked aimlessly, taking in the sights and trying to pretend you were a tourist like everybody else. You had gone with the standard superhero disguise (baseball cap pulled low, over-sized sunglasses, indistinct and generic clothing) and so far, you hadn’t been noticed. You were fortunate enough to snag an empty bench and sat to eat your lunch. It was loaded and messy but it was delicious and worth every penny you had paid.

You heard several screeching brakes and honking cars just behind you as you neared the end of the hot dog. Your hands halted half-way to your mouth as you turned to see what the cause of the commotion was this time. With pedestrians weaving their way about it was hard to get a good view but within moments it became very clear what had caused the taxi drivers their anger. A scruffy and far-too-skinny dog appeared, its tail between its legs and its ears flat against its head.

“The poor thing’s terrified,” you mumbled, talking to yourself. You glanced down at the remainder of the hot dog in your hand and began to whistle to the pup.

A teenager swung their leg toward the dog as if to kick it away when it approached them. You felt your own anger begin to boil then and quickly found yourself standing, yelling at the kid to knock it off. You had caught the dog’s attention with your actions so you did your best to flip from anger to approachable-kindness as quickly as you could. You crouched a bit and whistled again, extending your hand with the little bit of meat and bun that was left.

“Come here, boy,” your sing-song voice carried to the dog, urging it to trust you. You made kissing noises, patted your knee, extended the food as far as you could with your other hand- everything you could think of.

The dog’s head cocked to the side and it cautiously approached you. The teen swung another leg again, calling out obscenities and telling the dog to get out of the area. Luckily for you the dog skittered toward you at this, rather than running away. You took your sunglasses off, tucking them into the neckline of your shirt, and glared at the teen. Their eyes met yours and recognition crossed their face, fear quickly following it. Your reputation with the Avengers apparently preceded you. You smiled to yourself as the kid grabbed their friend and high-tailed it out of the area, leaving you with the pup.

Other pedestrians continued to weave about, meandering and site-seeing. Several times you were nearly knocked over but you continued to wait patiently and coax the dog to you. You had no idea what you were going to do if it came to you, you didn’t have a random collar and leash hanging out in your bag, but you couldn’t bring yourself to just leave it.

After what felt like a lifetime the dog finally came close enough to smell the food in your outstretched hand. A grin broke across your face as it hesitantly licked the bun and you urged it in a soft voice to take the food. Finally, the dog took the food from your hand, seemingly gulping it down without chewing, and then began to greedily lick your fingers. While the dog was distracted you subtly moved toward it until you were able to wrap your arms about the scrawny animal.

It wasn’t an overly large dog to begin with and the fact that it was skin and bone left it even easier to pick up and hold. You felt bad for the poor thing but were grateful that it wasn’t too large for you to carry. Once you had it securely in your grasp, and after finding no collar or identification tag on the pup, you began to walk. If your memory served you right, there was a veterinarian not too terribly far from where you were. It would be a trek with the dog but if an Avenger couldn’t manage a few New-York blocks then were they really an Avenger?

---

Several hours later you and your new buddy entered the elevator of the Avengers Tower. You pressed the appropriate button for the shared level and began the rise up. Once the vet had checked the dog thoroughly and confirmed that it had no microchip, you decided to keep it. After giving the pup its vaccinations and some heart-worm medicine, they gave you a collar and leash. You had explained how you had found the animal and confirmed that you intended to take them home with you. Once done, the two of you headed to the nearest groomer.

You and a now-clean and overly happy pup exited the elevator and made your way into the living room. You weren’t sure if anyone was home, everyone had their own way of enjoying their day of freedom, but you figured you would at least try to introduce everyone. You were hoping someone would be able to help you come up with a name for your new friend, too.

“Hello? Anyone here?” you called into the seemingly empty room. Oh well, you would just head up a level to the mini-apartment Stark had offered you when you had moved in. You still didn’t have any real supplies for your new companion so you figured you would get to work ordering them online.

After getting your new friend comfortable in your place you left to make a quick trip for dog food. You could wait a few days for the dog bed, toys, and treats to be shipped to the tower but you desperately wanted to feed the dog tonight. It was obviously hungry and rather than giving it the junk food often found in the shared kitchen for the team, you figured some healthy food made for pups would be a better plan

You made the trip fast and headed back to the tower as quickly as you could. Grabbing an empty Tupperware container from the still-empty kitchen, you headed up to your apartment with a bag of dog food in-hand. The scruffy pup was beyond delighted to see you when you came in, and even more excited when you poured its food into the Tupperware container.

“There you go, buddy,” you cooed as you pat its head and it began to dig in, “Now we just gotta find a name that fits you.”

---

When the sun began to set you knew the team would be congregated in the large room that connected to the kitchen. It was split between a living space with comfortable seating and an over-sized television, and a dining area with a sturdy and large table designed to fit all of you and some guests. You wanted to surprise everyone with the team’s new pet so you hooked the pup to the leash and headed for the elevator.

For the second time that day you and your new companion exited the elevator into the common area. The dog had warmed up to you considerably through-out the day but upon entering the shared room and hearing the common-place noise and commotion of your team, they reverted back to their old shell. You noticed when its ears flattened and its tail tucked under its legs so you stopped just outside of the elevator and knelt next to your new friend. You comforted it with affection and spoke to it in calm and soothing tone until it seemed to relax a bit and became willing to walk with you.

“Hey, (Y/N), where’ve you been all—” Sam cut off before he got to the word ‘day’, “Is that a dog?”

His words caught the attention of the rest of the team, all of whom made their way over to you. You crouched next to the pup again and continued to encourage it in front of its new family.

“Where the hell did you get a dog?” Sam asked while Natasha and Steve exclaimed in excitement and came over to envelope the pup in love. Within moments the dog shed its scared demeanor and began to shower the two very-dangerous assassins in equal amounts of affection.

“Well, he kinda found me. He didn’t have any tags or a microchip so I got him groomed and brought him home,” you smiled, standing back up as Steve and Natasha took over the dog’s attention. You shared the story of how the dog had come to you in Times Square and explained you were happy to shoulder the responsibility and keep it with you in your room.

“You….brought a dog….here?”

You laughed, “Why yes, Sam, I did. Meet your newest family member.”

“What’s its name?” Wanda asked as even the Winter Soldier cracked a smile and began to demand the dogs love.

“Oh, I don’t know yet. I was hoping you guys could help me come up with something fitting.”

“Oooh, how about Chance?” Steve piped up, “Because your meeting was by chance and totally based on luck?”

“Luck! Name it Lucky, because its lucky you were there to save it from that mean kid,” Wanda suggested.

“I like those but aren’t they a little common for a dog?” Sam added.

“Besides, I’m the lucky one, I think,” you commented, scratching behind the pup’s ear.

“How about Schastlivyy?” Bucky’s voice was quite but his suggestion evoked a warm grin from Natasha.

“It’s Russian,” she explained, “It means ‘Lucky’.”

The group, your family, all seemed to agree. Schastlivyy, or Livyy for short, was home.

END

(divider by the lovely Firefly Graphics)

#the lucky one #larki writes #larkiwrites #marvel one shot #mcu fanfic #mcu au #marvel au #marvel fanfic #reader insert #y/n #reader pov #mcu one shot #mcu oneshot #marvel oneshot #avengers tower fanfic #marvel au fanfiction #mcu au fanfiction

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mysterykidscasefiles · 6 years

Text

Mystery Kids and the Case of the Whispering Rock

Summary: Norman, Neil, Coraline, Wybie, Raz and Lili arrive at Grunkle Stan’s Summer Camp with the hope of having a summer of fun, or in the case of the two Psychonauts, with the intent of investigating a psychic disturbance. When they meet two twins that seem to be experts on the secrets of Gravity Falls, they find themselves reluctantly teaming up. But how much can they actually trust each other? There are secrets in this town, but more surprising are the secrets being kept from each other.

Table of Contents

Chapter 20: The Footprint

“Neil, are you okay?” Norman asked as he leaned over and helped Neil back on his feet. Neil had tripped and fallen in the chaos of trying to chase after Lili and Norman had stopped to help him. The rest of the kids had rushed ahead, not noticing that the two of them were left behind.

“Umm… Norman?” Neil asked hesitantly.

“Come on Neil, we have to hurry.” He tugged on the sleeve of his Neil’s shirt, but his friend wasn’t moving.

“Norman…” Neil said again, more urgently this time.

“What is it?” Norman asked while turning around to face his friend.

“Bigfoot isn’t real, right?” Neil was looking down at the ground.

Norman’s eyes followed Neil’s gaze. He felt his mouth fall open as he stared at the imprint on the ground. It looked like it had come from a bare human foot, but it had to be at least three times the size of a regular grown man’s foot. The imprint was pressed deep into the soft soil and there was no mistaking it for what it was.

“Maybe it's someone’s idea of a joke?” Norman supplied weakly.

“All the way out here?” Neil asked.

Norman shrugged. “I… I don’t know.” Norman took out his phone and snapped a picture of the imprint. “Come on,” Norman said looking up at his friend. “We’re going to get lost if we can’t catch up with everyone else.”

“I don’t know about you, but I’m already lost.”

Norman and Neil didn’t have to travel far before they heard familiar voices.

“There you guys are!” Dipper said in relief as Norman and Neil reached the clearing. “I was worried you guys got lost. It’s not a good idea to get separated in this forest!”

Norman blinked in surprise. He hadn’t expected Dipper to be so worried about them. The way Dipper said ‘this forest’ made it sound like other forests were fine to wander around in, but there was something sinister about this forest in particular.

“S-sory,” Norman apologized. “What’s goin- Oh. Wow.”

“Yeah, that seems to be the general consensus, cuz,” Coraline agreed.

Norman couldn’t take his eyes off the giant oak tree and the cabin nestled on its largest branch. He didn’t think those types of trees could grow that big.

“So Wybie, any idea on how to get up there?” Coraline asked. “It looks like there’s a rope ladder handing over that branch. If we can free it, then the ladder might reach all the way down here."

Coraline was right. Norman could see a rope ladder attached to the large branch the cabin was built on top of. However, instead of the rope ladder extending to the ground, it had been thrown up and around a much smaller branch higher up.

“I’m not even sure we should go up there,” Dipper reasoned. “Someone could still be living in there and they might not be friendly.”

“Are you kidding?” Coraline asked, turning to Dipper in disbelief. “There is a mysterious cabin in the woods up in a tree that looks like it came out of a fairytale. Not only that, but some sort of crazy magic spell drew Lili here, and you just want to ignore it? Yes, this is the part in the movie where everyone gets cursed, but come on, can you really walk away without seeing what’s inside?” Coraline asked, gesturing up to the tree.

Dipper bit his lip worriedly, but with the way he glanced up at the tree, his expression more akin to a mix between bafflement and curiosity instead of fear, Norman knew his cousin had won. Dipper wanted to know what was in the cabin just as much as the rest of them.

"If I had my tools I could make a piton and a belay device," Wybie suggested when Dipper didn’t say anything more. "Whoever is best at climbing can hammer the piton into the tree and if they fall the rope would catch them-”

Lili whirled around, her eyes blazing.

"You are not hurting that tree," she growled.

Wybie took a weary step back from the girl. "O-okay, s-sorry! So, uhh... then what do we do?"

"Raz, where are you going?" Neil asked.

Everyone looked up to see Raz nearing the tree.

"We just have to get that rope ladder down, right?" Raz asked while placing his fingers in between the cracks in the bark.

"Sure, but no one can climb that thing on their own," Dipper said skeptically. "And even if you could get part way up, you'll fall before you reach the top."

Raz chucked as he hoisted himself up by his fingers, his feet supporting him against the trunk of the tree. Raz didn't hesitate as he continued to use nothing but his gloved fingers to climb up the groves in the bark.

"Don't worry,” Raz said as he turned his head to look down at them, flashing them cocky smile. “I don't fall."

Norman’s mouth fell open as Raz continued to climb up, not even hesitating for a second on where to place his hands.

"Wow!" Mabel gasped. "He’s super fast!"

Lili rolled her eyes. "Show off," she scoffed, but Norman didn't miss the smile Lili was attempting to conceal.

Raz scaled the tree to the first, and largest, branch effortlessly. There were professional athletes couldn't pull off a feat like that, and yet, Raz did it so easily.

"Okay, I'm up!” Raz announced. “Wow, you guys should see this thing up close.” He was staring at the wooden cabin and edged closer out of curiosity.

"Don't go in alone!" Dipper wrung his hands nervously.

"Yeah! Send down the ladder!" Coraline agreed.

Raz moved to examine the ladder. The end was tied around the large branch Raz was standing on, but the rest of the ladder was hung over another, smaller branch above Raz's head.

Raz tugged at the ladder to pull it down, but it didn't move. Raz tugged harder, and the branch above him shook, but the latter still didn't dislodge.

"It's stuck!" Raz shouted down to them. "Hold on, I'm going to untangle it."

Raz returned to the trunk and began to climb up the tree until he was standing on the branch the ladder was hanging over. It was a thin branch, no thicker than the width of Raz’ shoe. Raz had a firm grip on the trunk of the tree, but he was slowly moving away from the trunk as he took another step out onto the branch.

"Whoa! Be careful!" Neil called after him in concern.

"Raz!" Dipper shouted. "What are you doing?"

Norman didn’t understand what the boy was planning. The end of the rope ladder was still quite a few feet out of his reach. He would have to completely let go of the trunk of the tree to-

To Norman’s utter horror, Raz let go of the trunk, spread his arms spread out wide to keep his balance, and started walking further out on the thin branch as if it were a balance beam.

Norman inhaled sharply and he heard Coraline do the same.

"Are you crazy?" Wybie yelled up at him as Raz continued to walk confidently along the branch.

"Lili, tell him to stop!" Coraline yelled, her wide eyes glancing fearfully at Lili as if the girl could do something about the situation.

"Why?" Lili asked with a shrug. "If he falls it's his own fault, but like he said, he's not going to fall."

"Look!" Mabel shouted. "He's almost there! He's really good!"

Raz bent his knees and sat down on the branch as if it were a comfortable bench and not a sudden drop to potential death. He freed the ladder from around the branch and threw it down. It hung from the tree, swinging back and forth only two feet above the forest floor.

Raz effortlessly used both his hands to prop himself up on the branch, swung his legs back on top of the branch, and then stood up again all in one swift move. Norman assumed the was going to head back to the trunk of the tree and climb down the way he came up, but instead, Raz jumped backward off of the thin tree branch.

Norman heard himself gasp for a second time; the sudden image of meeting Raz’s ghost completely paralyzed him in fear.

Instead of falling to his death, Raz gracefully flipped once in the air, and then landed squarely on the giant tree branch that the cabin was resting on.

There was a stunned silence before Mabel and Neil broke out into loud clapping and cheers. Raz bowed with a flourish and Coraline raised an eyebrow.

“Okay, as impressive as that was... that was completely unnecessary," Coraline said, her amused voice slightly breathless as if she had been holding it.

"How did you do that?" Mabel asked. "Are you a gymnast?"

"Something like that," Raz answered from where he stood above them. "My dad taught me and it kinda runs in my family."

Coraline approached the rope ladder and gave it an expectant tug. “It seems sturdy enough.” She raised her voice a little louder. “How does it look from your end, Raz?”

Raz was examining where the rope ladder was wrapped around the large branch. “It looks like it will hold, but come up one at a time, just in case.”

Coraline went first as everyone climbed the ladder one by one. The rope ladder was surprisingly strong, but the way it swung back and forth without any support made Norman feel dizzy.

Once they were all on the main branch, the kids gathered on the front porch of the cabin. The railing on the front porch made Norman feel a bit safer. When he looked down over the edge, it was hard to comprehend how large this tree was that an entire cabin could easily sit on just one branch. The branch forked into two branches, each branch providing mote support for the cabin to rest on. The cabin also had additional wooden supports underneath to even out the weight.

Norman worriedly glance at Neil, who looked paler than usual and was gripping the railing with white-knuckled hands.

"Are you okay?" Norman asked.

"I just... don't like heights," Neil admitted while stepping nervously away from the edge. "I'll be okay if I don't look down."

"You didn't have to come up here," Norman said worriedly.

Neil shook his head and he gave Norman a queasy, but a genuine smile. "Are you kidding? I love tree houses! I've always wanted one of my own."

"Why do you want a tree house if you don't like heights?" Dipper asked.

"Just because I'm a bit scared doesn't mean I don't think they’re awesome," Neil explained cheerfully.

"Well, how’s your fear of old potentially cursed cabins?" Coraline asked him as she looked up at the cabin looming in front of them. "Because we're going in."

See, I knew these next few chapters would come out quicker! I hope you enjoyed this one!

Table of Contents <Previous Next>

#Mystery Kids #gravity falls #coraline #psychonauts #Paranorman #Mystery Kids Case Files #Whispering Rock fic

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birger-wuvs-elsa · 6 years

Note

47, your choice

47. “We go on three…”

Jenny X Aksel (her dragon I haven’t started yet fuck me I’m so behind on my commissions)@shardsofarendelle

P.S. ‘kan is an honorific suffix in the dragon language, my original language that all dragons can speak (in my head worlds that is). It basically is on the same level as -kun in Japanese, only in this case it means “glory” and effectively is a one word way of saying someone is glorious, or that you wish to honor them by attributing them with the word “glory”.

P.P.S. You’ll understand the purpose of this image after you read the story. =P

P.P.P.S. Procrastination and a minor headache made this take much longer, also, probably accidentally inspired by sled dogs (damn I want a husky).

Umm, Jenny? Are you sure this is safe?

Aksel peered warily down the slope, its fair steepness unnerving her. While not terrible high, and surely not a sheer drop, it was not the picture of caution either. The young drake knew little of human “math” stuffs, as she shared a similar distaste for them as Birger’kan did regarding human matters in general. But there were some things she kind of liked, stuff that made sense; like angles, for example.

This cliff wasn’t horribly steep, maybe about a…fifty? Sixty degree angle? Aksel couldn’t tell for sure, but she could tell that safety was not this cliff’s name at all.

“Oh come on, Aki, it’ll be fine!” Jenny assured, as she made sure the straps of her dragon’s saddle were nice and tight. Since Aksel was far from being at all big like Birger was, leather workers were more than able to fashion a saddle for the young beast. Schematics hidden away in that Dragon Book her mother showed her certainly helped, as it gave the flabbergasted workers a base to work off of.

“Besides, you’ve got strong armor on you, and I’m wearing plenty thick clothing! Everything will be fine, nothing will go wrong, trust me!”

Aksel frowned and pouted, her lower lip sticking up between the sharp points that extended down over her mouth. I don’t know, Jenny…the last time you said that, I ended up stuck in a tree.

“Pfft, okay, that wasn’t that bad.” The redhead scoffed as she clasped another strap.

The tree also caught fire, though. Birger’kan was upset with me for days…

Jenny rolled her eyes as she got in Aksel’s line of sight, and waited for the bright yellow eyes to meet her blues. “Aki, we’ve been over this, Birger was just being his usual overprotective self. You got scared, of course the tree caught fire.”

The redhead shrugged, “Besides, he put it out before it spread to any other trees anyway, I don’t see what the big deal was.”

You were in the tree with me. I think Elsa’kan was scared, so Birger’kan was scared, so he also got mad.

Jenny frowned and sighed as she conceded that point to the fire drake. While the entire situation had been purely accidental, it had put Jenny of all people in danger—and Aksel as well, though in a different way, as she’s immune to fire as Elsa and Birger are to cold and ice. Jenny’s uncle of a dragon surely had been furious with the young drake, and only her pleas backed up by Anna and Elsa’s own arguments kept him from overreacting.

The redhead looked up, and frowned when she noticed the distressed look on Aksel’s face. The drake never spoke of it, but she clearly looked up to and admired the elder dragon; different breed and element be damned. Jenny was much the same, but she imagined it meant all the more to young Aki. The princess knew Birger’s story, how he’d chosen to leave his family behind.

From what little Aksel had told Jenny and her family—and what little they’d deduced for themselves—choice had not had any involvement…

Jenny approached Aki’s face, and held her spiky chin gently in her hands. The drake’s head was small for a dragon, her whole form was for being so young, Aki was even hardly twice the size of a horse. The redhead rested her chin on Aksel’s armored nose and smiled at her.

“He just doesn’t know how to act around you, at least that what Aunt Anna thinks. I kinda think so too, he hasn’t been around other dragons in a long time, Aki! And he never really messed with fiery ones, either…I don’t even know if he’d ever seen one before you, to be honest.”

Aksel sighed lightly, and her warm breath rustled Jenny’s hair. I never really met any other dragons either, let alone different kinds of ones, so…I think I get it…

The fire drake then took a deep breath, and smiled at her person. Now, were we going to toss ourselves off this mountain, since safety isn’t on your mind for today, or what?

Jenny smiled kindly to her drake, and patted her strong jaw. “That’s the spirit, Aki!”

Aksel gently pulled away before she crouched down, and waited as Jenny clambered on. She used some of the drake’s spikes as handholds till she pulled herself onto the saddle itself, and began to strap herself in. Once the princess had gotten all of her personnel straps nice and secure, she pulled the mask up over her face and pulled down a pair of snow goggles she’d made just for the occasion. Jenny had discovered them in class, no less, and was thrilled to actually glean some useful information out of the time.

Jenny grabbed the handholds in front of her on the saddle, took in a deep, shoring breath, and…

“We go on three…”

Aksel rolled her shoulders as she got into position.

“One…”

The drake leaned her chest down, her rear still in the air as she readied herself to push off. The aim was to slide on her belly all the way down, like a living sled, and only use her legs to make sure they didn’t hit anything. Supposedly, Birger had done something similar in his youth to escape harm, and Jenny apparently found a more entertaining use for the maneuver.

“Two…”

Aksel’s claws clenched the snowy ground beneath her, and tensed her legs, eyes narrowed in concentration. She was going to do everything in her power to both keep them safe, but also wring as much fun out of the escapade as possible. Jenny tightened her grip on the handholds and leaned slightly forward as she took in another breath, and–

“Three!”

Aksel pushed off the ground, and sent herself skidding down the snowy slope on her belly. The young drake managed to push plenty hard, and it took no time at all before the pair all but flew down the face of the mountain. Even with the slope not being as steep as it could be, they still picked up speed easily, the fire drake’s naturally aerodynamic form helping them on their way. The wind’s roar sounded like cheering almost, and the snow burst off the ground in their wake like a comet’s tail.

Jenny laughed freely beneath the protection of her mask, grateful again for discovering the goggle design in her studies. They protected her eyes well from the wind that would’ve normally bit at her face, and force her eyes closed. While the range of vision was small, it still worked wonders and kept her eyes safe. At the sound of her laughter, Aksel smiled, but kept her mouth closed so as to not dry out her mouth.

All was well for a while, the pair daringly soaring down the slope faster than trained reindeer. Not far in the distance, they could see the forest that surrounded Arendelle; they were almost home. As they began to near the bottom, and the slope slowly began to level off, Aksel prepared to slow them to a stop when it seemed appropriate. Unfortunately, unseen to either dragon or rider, a rock was hidden beneath a layer of snow.

Aksel’s chest glanced off the rock’s surface, not hard enough to harm her (Jenny was right, her natural armor was strong), but it did send them dangerously off kilter. The drake’s form began to angle wildly, and she could feel herself begin to tip. Eyes of both dragon and rider grew wide as terror took them, the inevitability of a crash clear to them both. As Jenny clung fearfully to the saddle, Aki looked up and would’ve blanched had her anatomy been able.

The treeline was almost on top of them, and it was far too late to safely slow them now.

JENNY!!! JENNY, UNSTRAP YOURSELF NOW.

Too enthralled in her terror to argue, Jenny quickly released the straps that fastened her to the saddle. She held on all the tighter now without the straps, and regretted the action, despite trusting her dragon. Before the princess could say anything, the fire drake reached her head around and gently grabbed Jenny’s cloak in her teeth. Deft as a snake, Aksel spun onto her side and pulled Jenny to her less armored, softer chest. Jenny barely had time to register the dragon’s semi-prehensile arms as they wrapped protectively around her, Aksel lowering her head over her as well, before loud, horrendous cracking sounded around them.

Their speed and momentum, coupled with Aksel’s strong, armored hide, allowed the living projectile to break through every tree in their path. The rancorous din of trees breaking and falling was no doubt heard all throughout Arendelle, even as many a bird took wing in sudden and great terror at the commotion. The thunderous pass through the trees seemed to take an eternity for the pair, especially for Jenny, who cowered within Aksel’s arms and clung fearfully to her mighty chest. Despite the pain of ramming into several strong trees, Aki focused on the treasure in her arms, and refused to break until they finally lost momentum.

They finally broke through the treeline, yes, and they lost vast amounts of speed from the trees that Aksel’s armored hide struck. But they still continued to slide towards the town, and with the weight and armor of Aki’s form, were still well on their way to accidentally ramming into a building. With unspoken agreement, Jenny held onto one of Aksel’s arms, while the drake used the other arm and every other limb (head included) to slow them down as much as possible.

Suddenly, Aksel’s back struck a strong, sturdy structure that hardly bent against her back. The abrupt loss of momentum caused Jenny to get momentarily squished against the drake’s chest before she fell onto her back in the snow. The princess got her bearings first, and leaned up on her elbows as she shook her head. Aksel merely groaned where she lay limp, not terribly injured, but her back was surely going to be sore for days.

Ugh…J-Jenny…what did–ow, what did we hit?

Jenny rubbed her forehead absently as she glanced up, grateful that whatever they hit shielded her eyes from the sun. However, as soon as the redhead realized what exactly they were in the shadow of, her eyes grew wide and fearful. They weren’t in the shadow of a building…no, while this obstruction provided no property damage, it was…arguably worse…

What in the Frozen North did you two think you were doing?!

Being a dragon, Aksel could hear it herself, and now she joined Jenny and looked up in fear. Jenny smiled sheepishly, while Aksel slowly hid her nose behind her rider. The princess raised a hand and waved nervously.

“H-hey, Birger…”

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normanandcaliban · 7 years

Photo

Bar Crawl

Music: “Your Light” by Yoe Mase

“ID, please.”

Norman casually produced the small, rectangular piece of plastic and gave it to the bouncer. The dude was one intimidatingly massive demon with cloven hooves where feet and shoes should be. Every inch of the guy oozed bouncer stereotype (tall, big arms, big chest, icy stare, cold demeanor), but the tight-fitting “Super Mario Bros” t-shirt he was wearing threw off his tough-guy fengshui. Norman fought back a grin, trying not to give away his thoughts. The last thing he needed was to be kicked out of the first bar of the evening. He still had so much exploring to do since this was his first time visiting Hell.

The bar’s neon “Beercade” sign overhead cast a yellow glow over everyone waiting in line behind Cal. Norman had never been to an arcade bar before. Cal said this was the place to come for the best local beer. Norman was more of a rum and coke kinda guy, but beer sounded great when Cal originally proposed the idea.

While the large, green demon checked his credentials, Norman’s eyes drifted up to the beast’s large, black, curvy horns. The way they twisted in a sturdy spiral reminded Norman of a mountain ram. Norman wondered if he ever kicked out disgruntled bar patrons by smashing into them headfirst.

The demon caught him staring and raised an eyebrow. “You need something, bub?”

Cal’s hands clasped Norman's shoulders from behind, making him jump. He poked his head past Norman’s left shoulder and addressed the bouncer, “No, we’re good, Ron. Sorry, it’s his first time in the Furnace so everything is still pretty...new.” Cal planted a peck on Norman’s cheek and gave him a noogie.

The “Furnace” is what native demons referred to as Hell’s main dimension. Cal brought Norman to Pandemonium, the capital of Hell and heart of the Furnace, to introduce him to demonic culture. As they exited the portal from Earth to Hell, he best described the bustling, satanic metropolis by calling it “an infernal version of New York City.” When the city came into view, Norman’s jaw dropped. The resemblance was unmistakably New York-ish with a dash of hellfire, exposed brickwork, and thousands of screaming, writhing souls of the damned. Skyscrapers grew out of the ground as far as the eye could see and stretched all the way up into the black, tar-like, starless sky. Taxis, cars, and other vehicles packed the streets, making any mode of transportation other than walking a pain in the ass. Flying was also an option for most since several demon species had wings, but Cal said most demons shy away from it due to all the construction and demolition hazards in the downtown area. Dozens of bars, coffee shops, and retail stores littered the bases of every skyscraper. Various demons, creatures, ghosts, ghouls, and undead hustled to and fro in the clustered madness that was Pandemonium’s downtown nightlife.

Cal tried to give Norman another noogie. He rolled his eyes and tried to shrug Cal off. The bouncer, aka Ron, smiled at their playful banter. He cleared his throat, politely coaxing them to stop, “Yeah, I know how it is. My girlfriend is human, too. We’ve been together two years and she still gawks a bit whenever she comes to visit. The Furnace can be a lot to take in all at once.” He checked the identification one more time before extending it back to Norman. “Here’s your ID back, dude.” He gave a nod to Cal. “Have fun you two.”

“We will! Thanks Ron, good to see you again.” Cal smiled back. He casually grabbed Norman’s butt and gave it a squeeze then walked through the door without ever showing Ron his own ID. Norman let loose the grin he’d been holding back and shook his head at Cal. Must be nice to have connections, He thought to himself. He wished he had something like that when he was still a minor.

He was thinking of ways to pay Cal back for that public ass grab when he stepped through the tinted glass door and gasped. The interior of the Bar was laced with intricate woodwork from floor to ceiling. The wood was clearly recycled, but sanded down and molded to fit perfectly in every corner. It looked like something straight out of a boujee architecture magazine. At the far left was the main bar with tap nozzles, shelves of fancy liquor, and a painted version of the “Beercade” sign from outside. On the right sat arcade-style video game machines stacked back-to-back all the way to the patio and emergency exit doors. There was Pac-Man, Galaga, Donkey Kong, Super Mario Bros, various racing games, and even skee-ball. Norman felt like he’d stepped back in time to the 80s.

Dozens of demons crowded around the main bar counter, ordering various glowing liquids, beers, and shots. Some of the drinks smoked ominous gases while others screeched earsplitting cries of intangible babble. Norman swore he even saw one of the drinks try to crawl its way out of a martini glass. He glanced around, trying to locate his boyfriend, when a familiar red hand shot up through the crowd and waved at him frantically. Norman squeezed his way between a very intoxicated rock golem and a succubus with ginormous boobs to find Cal saving the only two remaining barstools at the counter. He beckoned Norman to come sit.

“Hey you, what d’ya want to drink?” Cal asked as Norman pulled up in the stool next to him.

“I don’t know.” Norman replied casually. “What’s good? I don’t normally drink beer, so order something for me. I trust your judgement.”

Cal grinned. “You got it!” He turned to the nearest bartender and shouted over the noise of the crowd, “Hey Ryali, two Pitchforks over here!” She nodded and gave a thumbs up.

Pitchfork?

“What’s Pitchfork?” Norman chuckled. What an a-typical demonic beer name. It was almost so corny that it was a perfect fit. He was excited to try it.

“Only the best brew to ever touch your mortal lips. It’s made from dragon’s blood.”

Norman grimaced, “Dragon’s blood? I don't know if I can stomach that...”

“Oh no no no, not actual dragon’s blood. Dragon’s Blood. It’s a type of hop plant grown in Erebos. It gives the beer its unique flavor. Ah! Here we go.” He took two sweating, ice-cold beer cans from the bartender. “Thanks Ryali!” The demoness smiled, nodded again, and winked at Norman with her third eye, making him cringe a bit. Cal laughed and handed Norman his beer. “I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of seeing you squirm.”

“Oh shut up and drink your beer.” Norman snarked as he popped the tab on his can. Air hissed out of the opening when the metal punctured the seal.

Cal held out his can to propose a toast. “Here’s to new beginnings and cute guys.” He winked.

“Uh-huh, suuure. And here’s to us.” Norman retorted.

“To us.” Cal agreed, clanking his can on Norman’s.

The cold can chilled Norman’s lips. The first surge of beer hit his tastebuds and sent waves of bitter, tangy flavor through his senses.

“Damn! That’s good beer!” He exclaimed, sitting back to marvel the can with new insight.

“Told you.” Cal responded. “Hey, Ryali! Another round over here!”

Norman looked over at Cal and found his beer completely empty. His eyebrows shot to the roof of his forehead. “We’ve had these in our hands for exactly one minute! Did you just chug that?!”

Cal grinned, showing off his fangs, and wagged his eyebrows. “They didn’t crown me ‘Beer Chugging Champ’ in college for nothing! It’s all in the gag reflex.” He flexed his biceps in a display of sarcastic, manly macho-ness.

“Is that so?” Norman cocked an eyebrow as Ryali brought Cal the next round of beer. The demon eagerly opened his second can and began gulping down a good portion of it. Norman returned to sipping his first beer and added with sexual fervor, “I can think of something else you should be chugging right about now...”

Cal choked, sending spurts of alcohol flying out of his nose and mouth. Ryali, the two other bartenders, and several people around Norman and Cal stared for a moment then started laughing. Norman joined in as Cal got a towel to clean up the mess he made on himself and the counter.

“That’s for grabbing my ass earlier.” Norman chided, sticking his tongue out at Cal.

“You bastard.” Cal laughed, wiping beer from his face and shirt. “Your ass is mine when we get home.”

“Is that a challenge? Cuz I honestly wanna see you showcase those chugging skills.” Norman fired back at the demon. “If you can beat me in a Das Boot chugging contest, you can have me any way you want when we get home, deal?”

A spark of excitement and mischief flickered across Cal’s demonic eyes, “Oh it’s on like DONKEY KONG!”

They shook hands as Ryali brought over two gallon-sized, glass boots full of beer.

35 notes · View notes

fancymuffinparty · 7 years

Text

Prelude

Rating: T; for language and suggestive material.

Pairing: Levi x Mikasa, RivaMika

Summary: Written for the fifth RivaMika Jam! The story of how an aspiring musician meets and falls for his muse. My partner was @zerolr and my prompt was: “Mikasa is an ordinary person working at a grocery/supermarket store and Levi is a famous musician/actor. He sees her and finds himself attracted/interested in her. So while she checks out his purchase, Levi leaves her his phone number.” I kinda deviated a little from the original premise, but I hope it still turned out okay! :) This was fun to work with and I’m glad I signed up this time around!

Word Count: 3873 (a little long lol oops)

Music is one of many ways people are able to express themselves.

Soft, slow melodies from jazz or classical styles evoke calmness and serenity. Heavier themes can be conveyed through powerhouse ballads of the rock n’ roll variety. Regardless of the genre, there’s almost always a message or meaning to these intricate works of art, crafted from some sort of stimulus.

Some musicians draw inspiration from everyday life and personal experience, travelling and exploring new sights, or through the release of pent up emotions; a coping mechanism for dealing with hardships and complexities of this cruel yet beautiful world.

Aspiring musician Levi Ackerman fears he’s lost any and all inspiration. He has talent, that much is true. However, he recognizes that plenty of other ‘up-and-comers’ and ‘desperate hopefuls’ have talent. His music has hit a plateau, unsure where to take his current career aspirations or how exactly to get where he wants to be. He yearns for a stimulating experience; something to pull him out of this awful rut and set him apart from others in the highly competitive and cut-throat industry, riddled with unoriginal material and blatant narcissism.

Enter Mikasa, and the spark comes back.

She’s a quiet, reserved cashier at a small grocery store he frequents on a weekly basis. Always calm, smiles politely to every customer, and tends the same checkout stand every time.

Every other week-night. From six to midnight. Like clockwork.

Levi’s newfound muse is exactly what he needs as a source of inspiration.

It just so happens that he’s conveniently run out of a few basic necessities, prompting a trip to the grocery store on an unseasonably warm Thursday night.

Before long, he’s face to face with her, setting his gathered items on the counter in a meticulously neat array.

As Mikasa begins ringing up his purchase, she can’t help but engage in harmless conversation.

“That’s… a lot of cleaning supplies.” She suppresses a small chuckle, swiping the items along the scanner to a steady rhythm of beeps.

Levi, the ultimate clean-freak, feels no shame in what he considers a redeemable quality. He also seeks to use the situation as a means for something a bit more meaningful.

“My roommates,” he explains, “can be a handful.” That’s one way to put it.

“I can definitely relate,” Mikasa drawls, nodding her head. “Take on most of the responsibilities, right?”

“For the most part,” Levi replies. “They might be terrible roommates, but I can’t exactly get rid of ‘em.”

Still ringing up the last of the items, Mikasa coyly turns her gaze directly his way. “Some sort of obligation?”

Levi lists off the generalities of his living situation. “Longtime friends, band-mates…”

To his surprise, Mikasa pauses and expresses interest in pursuing the matter. “Band, huh?” A hard-to-read smile perches on her lips. “Is it more of a hobby? Like a side thing?”

He’s used to these kinds of questions, therefore he’s more than willing to answer. “Started out as a hobby, until we started booking gigs and performing here and there.”

“Seems as though you like it enough.”

“The extra money is nice, especially when it’s for something I enjoy doing.” Levi pulls out his wallet, preparing to pay for the cleaning haul. “Some venues are better than others. Some crowds are tougher than others. It’s hit and miss sometimes.”

Upon finishing bagging up the items, Mikasa briefly changes the subject, reverting back to the task at hand. “I might’ve asked you last time you were here, but any chance you’re interested in signing up for our new rewards program?”

Levi knows it’s a part of her job to ask every customer. Hell, the manager probably keeps tabs on which employee has signed up the most people per shift. He himself once worked in retail, so he can relate to working in an environment where employees are pressured to fulfill such menial assignments.

Either way, he’s still reluctant. “What would that entail?”

Utilizing her charismatic skills to their full potential, Mikasa makes an effort to reassure any concerns. “It’s free to sign up. All we need is an email and phone number.” Aligning her gaze with the mountain of cleaning products, she quickly adds, “And given that you’re here every week to stock up for the apocalypse, I think you’d benefit from it.”

Levi ultimately relents. “Well when you put it that way, it sounds reasonable.” A smirk creeps along the corner of his mouth as he begins filling out a sign-up sheet. “I thought maybe you were just playing it cool, trying to get my phone number.”

His attempt at flirting certainly hasn’t gone unnoticed and Mikasa finds it impossible to suppress the surge of red rising to her cheeks.

“Just… doing my job,” is all she can manage.

Thank god it’s a slow night and there’s no one else in line behind him, or this might have been a thousand times weirder. She accepts both the small slip of paper and his form of payment, finalizing the transaction in one fell swoop.

“Have a good night,” she says, handing him his receipt.

Levi, assuming that’s the end of it, nods and moves to grab the plastic bags full of his purchases, thanking her before turning away. Suddenly, and so unexpectedly, Mikasa’s voice pipes up and momentarily stops him from leaving the checkout stand.

“You should let me know when your next gig is,” she states casually. “I’d love to hear you play some time.”

Levi wasn’t sure what he had done to have been rewarded this many 'good karma’ points, but he accepts his lucky break nonetheless. Keeping his tone as casual as hers, he responds with, “Well now that you have my number, maybe you should call me when you’re free.”

Mikasa contemplates his sly remark, shaking her head. “I have a better idea.” She pulls out a pen and small piece of paper, using the counter as a flat surface while she scribbles something down. Once she’s finished, she extends it towards Levi, encouraging him to take it.

Levi gladly accepts, and discovers the contents of the pocket-size note feature her phone number.

“How about you call me when you get the chance?” Mikasa’s clever witticisms are yet another reason Levi is convinced his taste in women is anything but questionable.

He keeps a firm grasp on the slip of paper, as though it’s a prize-winning lotto ticket. “I will.”

And he certainly does.

Levi doesn’t get nervous.

He and his band-mates have performed enough times to get a feel for what the crowd likes and wants to hear. The venues are usually small, local, and full of college-age spectators. The stages rarely ever differ, offering the bare minimum amount of lighting above a sturdy wooden platform.

It’s not the first time he’s performed at this bar in particular. By now, he’s familiar with the amiable staff and finally on a first-name basis with management. Levi and co are a crowd favorite at the popular Colossal Bar, having won the hearts of the locale’s regulars which in turn generates an influx of business for the establishment. It’s a win-win for all parties involved.

There must have been roughly a hundred people in the joint but just as Levi was set to perform his second song, a loose rendition of ‘When You Were Young’ by The Killers, his gaze falls upon a sight that seems unfathomably surreal.

Mikasa is standing in the center of the crowd, a faint smile adorning her face. With one hand occupied, holding her drink of choice, she raises the other and waves.

Levi still doesn’t get nervous. It only fuels his desire to perform his best.

Amid the vast sea of unfamiliar faces, some more sober than others, some more enthused than others, some even singing along, Levi only wants to look at her.

Halfway through the song, the energy of the crowd seems to magnify, with someone in the back whistling loud enough to be heard over the intensity streaming from finely tuned guitars and drums.

Cheers follow shortly after the well-received rendition comes to an end, transitioning to a brief interlude as the band prepares to end the performance with their last song for the evening. This time it’s an original, not a cover.

Levi’s foot taps against the floorboards to the opening of the song; the song he wrote after seeing Mikasa for the first time. Granted, she doesn’t know that…

See it on the people’s faces everywhere

Black ‘n blue but they won’t throw the towel in

And let go of a dream

Man, woman, child, prepare to bleed

The band had initially been weary of the how the audience would react to their original piece, but the reassurance comes flooding in as soon as hoots and hollers from the crowd adorn their ears in tandem with the palpable beat and lyrics.

Levi keeps a level head through and through, eyes still locked on Mikasa, seemingly holding an intense staring contest with the raven-haired beauty that blocks everything else out.

Do you believe that we can conquer this?

Can’t delete all the mess that I have seen

Fall in the fire but these burns will heal you

The array of lights overhead flicker as Levi backs away from the mic. At long last, they complete yet another successful gig. A round of applause echoes from every corner of the establishment, indicating the patrons are more than just satisfied with the evening’s performance. He and his band accept the riotous praise hailing from newfound fans of their music, waving to the plethora of enthusiasts.

Bidding his mates farewell, Levi hops off stage and scrambles among a few tipsy spectators in search of one particularly lovely guest.

Several girls are ogling him from every angle, to which Levi is hopelessly oblivious. Completely uninterested in their advances, Levi finally spots Mikasa at the bar and pulls up a seat in the stool right next to hers.

She’s the first one to speak, greeting the arrival of the band’s front man.

“Seems to me you underestimate yourself, Levi,” she mutters, taking a sip of her gin and tonic.

“How so?” he asks, curiosity brewing.

She blinks lazily, resting her elbows on the counter. “When you told me you were in a band, you failed to mention you guys were actually really good.”

Levi’s glad he doesn’t give her the impression he’s a cocky asshole. He hates cocky assholes who talk up a big game, finding it beyond amusing when their pride and inflated egos are their ultimate downfall.

He accepts the compliment without getting ahead of himself. “’Good’ is a subjective term, but I appreciate it.” He orders a drink and while waiting for the bartender to devise the concoction, he carries on with the conversation. “I’m really glad you came out tonight.”

“That makes two of us,” Mikasa replies, studying him with intoxicating bluish greys.

The bartender sets Levi’s whiskey and coke on a coaster, to which he’s quick to take a hearty swig. The alcohol helps take the edge off, though he’s not much of a drinker and is enjoying the social interaction regardless. He’s about to say something when Mikasa nudges him gently on the shoulder.

“Don’t look now,” she mumbles, “but I think you have a fan.“

Levi only scoffs at that. “Oh yeah?”

“A few tables behind you. Toward the back.” Mikasa chuckles. “She’s been checking you out this whole time.”

Levi doesn’t heed her initial advice and looks over his shoulder to pinpoint this interested fan of his.

Bingo.

Copper colored hair. Large hazel-brown doe eyes. Possible candidate for a one-night stand.

‘Doe eyes’ winks at him, the look on her face begging him to join her and her circle of friends for some chit-chat.

Levi instantly looks away, leaving Mikasa equal parts confused and intrigued.

“She’s cute,” she hums.

“She’s not my type,” Levi affirms. “Besides, I’m right where I want to be.”

Levi and Mikasa eventually make their way to the back of the room, loosening up on a couple of beige lounge chairs as the alcohol only mildly kicks in. There’s about an hour left until closing, most of the noise dying down as the evening fades into the deathly early hours of the morning. A few winks from interested college girls still dart his direction, but right now he’s only focused on the way Mikasa perks her lips every time she’s about to say something. He can’t be half-assed to care what happened to 'doe eyes’ or his band-mates, not while he has Mikasa in front of him.

He learns that she’s not from the area. That she was adopted at the age of three and grew up in a small town a few hours away. Aside from working at the grocery store, she’s a full-time college student, majoring in criminal justice.

Levi on the other hand, admits he’s never really been anywhere else. Small town guy hailing from humble beginnings, content with how his life is turning out.

“Maybe that’ll change,” Mikasa insinuates. “One day when you make it big, you’ll be able to go to all sorts of places.”

Levi huffs at that. “’Make it big?’” He sounds disdainful, as if musicians who only strive for fame and fortune aren’t true musicians at all. He vowed never to be a sell-out long before setting foot on-stage. “Not sure that’s the direction I want to take my career.”

Mikasa half-smiles. “Like I told you. You underestimate yourself.”

“I don’t know,” Levi shrugs. “I think I would grow to hate that kind of lifestyle fairly quickly.” Always on the road, lots of airports and hotels, lots of loud obnoxious people. The exact kind of shit he can’t stand.

Mikasa has always been a realist, so she understands where he’s coming from, but that doesn’t stop her from offering her own perspective. “That’s one way to look at it,” she begins, “but what about the message you’re trying to send? What about the people who look up to you? Your music is more than just an artistic way of expressing yourself. It could inspire the hearts of thousands, bring them all together, and make this messed up world just a tiny bit better.”

You could use your voice for so much more…

Levi blinks a few times, almost at a loss for words until he finally manages to think of how to respond to that. “Forget criminal justice, you should look into becoming a motivational speaker or something.”

“You have to accentuate the positive in life sometimes.”

“That’s funny.” Levi rubs his chin in thought. “I’ve definitely heard that somewhere.”

“You probably have.”

Levi smirks, contemplating his next move when his eyes wander to a mark on her wrist. It’s dark, a couple inches long, and vaguely resembles some sort of symbol. Without hesitation, he bluntly asks about it, the thought of whether or not it’s an inappropriate question never crossing his mind.

“Is there a story behind that scar on your wrist?”

Mikasa merely shakes her head, unmoved by the sudden query. “Only a relatively boring one.”

She leans closer to where he’s sitting, extending her arm and allowing for him to trace along the small indentation. “It’s a… family thing,” she says, breaking the intermittent silence.

His fingers continue lightly tracing along its short length, smooth to the touch. Funny how he’s never noticed it before.

Strange, he thinks to himself. Now he ponders the possibility of penning a song about it.

“So,” Mikasa whispers, drawing him out of his momentary daze, “when you do make it big, are you going to write a song about me?”

Okay, now she’s flirting. Teasing him rather with such irresistible charm ringing in her voice.

Levi realizes he hasn’t let go of her hand yet, and regardless if it’s the buzz or just his attraction to her, he’s not sure he wants to.

He suppresses another smirk. That’s right. She doesn’t know; that he’s written a few songs about her already.

But he doesn’t tell her that. He chooses to keep that to himself, replying in a low quiet voice.

“Maybe,” he finally mumbles, looking up at her, his gaze landing on the scar below her eye. He’s noticed this one in particular on a few occasions. It grazes just above the cheek, resting beneath dark lashes and wisps of jet-black hair. He’s unsure if he should ask about its origins, but something about the way she’s looking at him with seemingly innocent curiosity urges him to fulfill his desire to get to know more about her.

Levi ignores the tension growing tighter and tighter throughout his body, realizing no one has ever made him feel this way. He struggles trying to put it into words, frustrated that he can’t properly articulate the sensation raging beneath his calm demeanor.

“What about… this one?” he asks, reaching out to stroke the scar nestled below her eye.

Mikasa slightly shudders, but surprisingly doesn’t pull away. She lets his hand hover over the scar, his fingers tracing gently along as he had with the mark on her wrist.

She could cop it out to them being alone, secluded in a corner with dangerously low lighting. She could blame it on the alcohol, mere tipsy antics.

But she’s not naïve.

“Story for another day,” comes her response in a smooth, sultry voice.

Levi nods, understanding.

He wants to kiss her. He’s never been more hell-bent on kissing someone in his entire life, but he likes to think he has some semblance of self-control and patience; unlike his rowdy band-mates.

Then, to his ultimate demise, she does something that drives him absolutely crazy.

She bites her lip, as if in suspense, and he pretty much loses it.

He closes the already tight gap between them and presses his mouth against hers, indulging in the incredible warmth. She responds almost immediately by parting her lips, inviting his tongue to slide inside. She tastes like lime, and something unidentifiably sweet. It spurs him to pull her in closer, sliding his hand up to her jaw, cupping her face in his palm.

Somehow he feels dizzier, and her wandering hands and the way she bites his bottom lip playfully further intensify this heated lip lock.

They’re still kissing like long lost lovers when the clock strikes two in the morning. Patrons start to file out through the exit one by one. The bartender begins wiping down the counters. The remaining staff members commence the usual closing routine.

Mikasa pulls away, playfully chastising the both of them for staying out well past their bedtimes. “Can’t believe I’ve been here all night,” she sighs. It’s almost a gasp, though she doesn’t appear too shocked.

“Got a curfew?” Levi deadpans, eyelids heavy. He finds it amusing that she’s more concerned over something as trivial as the hour rather than drunkenly kissing someone she barely knows.

Although during their heavy makeout session, it honest to god really felt like he had known her forever.

Mikasa rolls her eyes. “No, I’m just never usually out this late, is all.”

“Ahhh.” Levi exhales, expecting her to bid him goodnight and promptly ditch his ass without further ado.

He’s taken aback when she grabs him by the hand and begins hauling away for the exit.

What was she thinking about? What was she planning? Levi has a guess, but decides not to assume anything just yet. They awkwardly stumble out onto the street and Mikasa makes an attempt to hail a cab right there off the main drag.

“What’s on your mind?” He feigns uncertainty.

“I was kind of thinking I wanted to take you to-go,” she replies softly but oh-so-sure of herself. “Unless you had other plans…”

Levi merely nods his head, the words straining to dispel from his mouth, only to be suppressed by the tender look in her eye. The lights of cars zooming by hone in on the enticingly dark and mysterious features sheathed within.

Ultimately, he wordlessly agrees to follow, figuring nothing else needs to be said.

Wouldn’t want to keep her waiting.

Years later…

When Levi does make it big, he seems to be the only one out of his small circle of friends that’s surprised. Many were certain it was his calling; that catching a lucky break and garnering all the fame and recognition had been predestined.

From his own perspective, however, he’s simply doing what he loves, and insists on keeping himself grounded.

Maintaining a low profile is nearly impossible for the musician especially with the recent release of a new album, spawning a surge in popularity among fans from coast to coast. People stop and fawn all over him when he’s just trying to take his dog out for a walk, or when he’s making a coffee run in the early mornings before recording at the studio.

He hates it. He really does.

But like someone once told him, he uses his voice for more than just the purpose of entertainment. He advocates for causes he has strong beliefs in and vocalizes support for various organizations that strive for the betterment of society as a whole. It’s one of the few things that keep him sane, convincing him the fame isn’t a total nightmare. Sure, it’s not all that it’s cracked up to be, but he’s grateful the opportunity to help make a difference is there.

A blinding flash jolts his senses back to the present. Today marks the first day of his nation-wide tour, commencing the long trek from home over a span of three months.

As he’s done far more times than he can count, Levi steps up to the microphone, other band members setting up behind him. Unlike the small suffocating venues from before, he’s standing on a giant outdoor stage, unmoved by the masses of screaming people shouting their praises in anticipation for the upcoming concert.

The crowd’s ready, but he’s still getting in the moment, the wild ruckus blurring into low distant hums.

Before he gives the nod to his fellow mates, Levi takes a moment to let out a deep breath, eyes roaming about the entire stadium.

It’s another giant sea of faces; people with names he’ll never know, with lives he’ll never learn about.

He’s taken back to that fateful night at the Colossal Bar. The night Mikasa came to watch him for the first time.

He’s disappointed that her face isn’t among those in the crowd like it was then. None of this would have been possible without her; it’s all meaningless to him otherwise. He glances down at the silver wedding band fitted on his left ring finger, thinking a part of her is still with him even when he’s away on tour.

A half-smile fades as quickly as it appears. He’s ready for the long night ahead of him.

Mikasa, his beautiful muse, his best friend, his wife, might not be there to watch him and his band perform all the heartfelt and deep songs he’s written about her all these years, but he’s immensely satisfied to know that she’ll be there when he finally comes home, waiting for him like she always does.

It’s the only thing that matters.

#rivamikajam #rivamikajam5 #rivamika fanfiction #rivamika #shigenki no kyojin #i had fun with this #10/10 would do again #all for my otp #mywriting

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quiescentcastiel · 8 years

Text

I just finished a Very Serious Fic for the last SPC round, so I wanted to lighten it up again for Round 2 of @mittensmorgul‘s Great Fic Writer Scavenger Hunt. This round combines the prompts “I Don’t Want To Ruin Our Friendship” and “they think it’s witches but HOOBOY IT’S DEFINITELY NOT WITCHES witches would’ve been a cakewalk compared to THIS…” I’m sure I’ll do something more sensible in the future, but for now it’s all crack, baby.

Note: This story got away from me a bit and is 2.6k long. It’s also slightly less crack and more likely to fit into (the weirder end of) canon. Mild violence.

When Cas had found a case that lead the boys to the beach, Dean was delighted. However, when they realized that the deaths of multiple sailors, drowned in houses turned into aquariums, were caused by a witch, his feelings about the case decreased significantly.

They sank even lower when he found out that the witch wasn’t operating on land.

“So,” said Sam, “the only connection all our vics have is that they all frequented Whirlpool Enterprises, a virtual reality set up where sailors can experience all the fantasy sea creatures that old storybooks told them about.”

“...Ok. Well, let’s go there and see what we can find.”

“Already did it.” Sam paused and Dean raised an eyebrow. “I also looked into the owner of the store, Andrea Sparrow, and found that she has a house on Dutchman Lane, on the outskirts of town. But according to her neighbors, nobody has lived in that house for years.”

“So where is she?”

“As far as I can tell, on a boat.”

“Aw, hell.”

“That’s not all. The boat, which, by the way, is registered to an Captain A. Hab, is large enough that it can’t possible be manned by only one person.”

Dean groaned. “Multiple witches?”

“I’d say about three. And get this,” Sam continued, “I found this boat by looking through the docking records for all the local areas, but I had to go back awhile because it hasn’t been seen by anyone recently, at least not anywhere official.”

“Why?”

“It’s wanted for multiple accounts of piracy.”

“So we’ve got witches running their very own pirate ship. What does that make them?” Dean smirked. “Pitches? Wirates?”

Sam made a bitchface. “A pain in our ass that’s what it makes them. How are we going to get them out in the ocean?”

Cas finally spoke up. “I think I may have something.”

The man who had told Cas about the case was a retired sailor who owned a small but sturdy boat, and owed Cas a favor. He did also, however, know about monsters and such, and defiantly refused to come along with them. Instead, he tossed the keys at Dean and told them to be prepared to buy him a new boat.

“Well that was very un-ship’s-captain-ly,” Dean grumbled as they left his home.

Cas nodded. “Not to mention, he actually knows his way around his own boat, unless either of you have been some experience I don’t know about.”

“Nah, but I’ve watched enough sea movies,” said Dean. He clapped Cas on the back. “It’ll be easy.”

They met Sam at the docks; he had been trying to pinpoint the location of the witch’s ship.

“Alright, I’ve been asking around, and a few people have been telling be about a ship that’s been seen in an alcove a couple miles up shore.

“So?”

“So, there’s also been reports of a purple-ish smoke hanging round the place and even the sound of screaming. Some poor sailor went to check it out but found nothing until he was suddenly drenched in an unidentifiable slime.”

Dean shuddered. “Well, if that don’t sound witchy to me...”

“Yeah. We better get going before they hurt anybody else.”

The boat was small, in fact, it was barely a step up from a speedboat. It was white, but the paint was fading, and the name of the boat, in silver, could barely be seen.

“Melon?” Sam asked.

“No, Sam, Mellon,” Dean corrected. Sam gave him a blank look. ‘From Lord of the Rings? ‘Speak friend and enter.’”

Sam rolled his eyes as they climbed aboard the boat.

Cas squinted at the boat as it shook. “He named his boat ‘friend’?”

“Sure, why not. Hey. Hey, Cas,” Dean nudged the angel, “I’d tell you I love you but I wouldn’t want to ruin our friendship.” He chuckled to himself.

Cas looked him with an unreadable face, and Dean suddenly felt his stomach twist. Cas replied in cold voice, “I don’t think this is big enough to be called a ship, Dean.”

“Nevermind. Let’s just go.”

Dean got behind the wheel, and Sam cast them off. Before they went off to find the witches, they each took a turn steering the boat. When Cas was behind the wheel, Dean stood close behind him and tried to reach out to help guide his hand. Cas only flicked him away impatiently, saying that he didn’t need him. Dean gritted his teeth and stepped away, instead deciding to ready his weapons. His little joke couldn’t have annoyed him that much, right?

When they finally made it to the alcove, it was getting dark. But despite the lack of light, there was no ship to be seen. There was, however, what appeared to be a young woman sitting on a rock, surrounded by water.

Sam noticed her first. “Dean,” he whispered.

“Ye- Oh. Who do you think she is?”

“I don’t know. Should we-”

“Hello?” the lady called out. “Hello! Can you help me? I was out looking for shells but the tide came in and now I’m stuck.”

Sam and Dean gave each other a significant look. Sam shouted back, “Coming right over.”

“This could be a trap,” whispered Cas.

“If it’s a trap, we’ll just kill her,” Dean snapped at him, not feeling in the mood to put up with the angel right now.

“But we should be cautious,” said Sam, giving each of them a confused look. Dean caught his eye but then dropped it.

Dean let the boat idle up to the lady, drifting slowly, preparing for something to happen. As they got closer, they could see that she had long dark hair and dark eyes, and was wearing a white dress with no shoes. Dean frowned. With witches on the loose, there was no way this wasn’t a trap.

The were about ten feet away from the rock when Dean was proved right. Sam was at the head of the boat, as if ready to give her a hand, but as the woman stood up, she transformed into a great, black horse. The beast’s eyes were blazing white, and its mouth extended all the way up its jaw, exposing bone-crushing teeth. Its hooves faced backwards, and its legs dripped with slimy seaweed.

Dean immediately started up the engine, just as the horse pinned its ears back and leapt from the rock to crash into Sam. But Sam was quick - he’d been expecting this too - and he whipped out a knife that he’d been carrying. As the horse flew straight towards him, he pushed his knife in front of him, skewering the beast.

It fell into the water with a splash and became human once more.

“What was that?” breathed Dean.

“A kelpie,” replied Cas.

Dean snorted. “That sounds more like a bad seafood dish.”

Cas grimaced, but Sam spoke before he could make a retort. “Cas is right. I’ve read about kelpies; they’re a Scottish myth, frequently appearing in the shape of a horse to lure people into the water where they drown them and eat them.”

“That’s pleasant. What does it have to do with our witches?”

“I think, as we got closer to her, I recognized her,” Sam said. “I saw a photo of her with our witch, when I was looking through her stuff.”

“She must be a part of this,” said Cas. “You said there had to be three witches to sail their ship, maybe she was one of them.”

Dean cut in, “But after seeing that, I’m not even sure if they are witches. Unless that kelpie thing was one of their familiars?”

“I don’t know,” answered Sam. “Maybe they’re some sort of shapeshifter.”

“Either way,” said Cas, “they have to have some witchcraft or they wouldn’t be able to fill those sailors’ houses with the ocean.”

“Monster witches. Pirate monster witches.” Dean huffed. “As if regular witches weren’t bad enough.”

“And there’s still two more out there.”

“Then we’d better go kill those sons of witches.”

Dean turned the boat around, and they headed back out into the open ocean.

“Where to next?” he asked.

“Can you see that?” asked Cas as he looked straight out at the horizon.

Dean squinted, but all he could see was waves. “No, Cas, I don’t have Super Vision. Why don’t you just tell us?”

“There’s something headed towards us,” he snapped, scowling.

Fuming at Cas’ misplaced anger, Dean gunned the Mellon towards whatever the angel had seen. “Round Two, bring it on.”

As they got closer, a small creature jumped up from the water and landed on the boat by Sam. Before it could get anywhere, Sam had pinned it to the wood with his knife. The creature struggle and screamed, then died.

“A new monster,” he said. The creature was about the size and shape of an infant, with gills, blue-green skin and tentacles, rather than arms or legs.

“Urgh, what is that?” Dean asked.

Sam proded the creature a bit. “They kinda look like... grindylows. Y’know from Harry Potter?”

“I don’t think so,” said Cas as he came over to investigate.

Dean was about to ask why not, but another came shooting up from the surface of the ocean. He drew his gun and shot it mid-air, but as it dropped back into the water, the wave finally reached the boat.

“There’s hundreds of these little water demons!” Sam screeched as the boat rocked with the force of being attacked from either side. There were creatures flying though the air and crawling up the sides of the boat, their faces twisted with sharp, demonic smiles. Their screams were piercing.

“I don’t know why Cas thinks otherwise, but I’m pretty sure these are grindylows!” shouted Sam, smashing the water demons with a wire-wrapped baseball bat he found in the back of the Impala.

Cas replied from the back of the boat, slashing the creatures with his angel blade, “It’s just that I thought they were supposed to be fresh water?”

“IS THAT REALLY WHAT YOU’RE CONCERNED ABOUT, CAS?” yelled Dean, struggling with a grindylow that was attacking his face.

With a cry, he grabbed the creatures tentacles, tearing half of them off with a splash of grey-ish blood. Grindylows were completely covering the Mellon by now, and none of it could be seen under them.

Sam yelled, “THERE’S TOO MUCH WATER COMING IN! THEY’RE BITING THROUGH THE BOAT!”

“WE CAN’T FIGHT THIS MANY OFF!” Dean cried out.

“IF WE DON’T,” Cas roared, in between breaths, “IF THE BOAT SINKS, THEY’LL EAT US ALIVE!”

“NO WAY! I AIN’T NO GODDAMN BAUDELAIRE!” Dean bawled, slashing the grindylows with his machete.

Over the screaching of the water demons he heard Cas yell out, “SHUT YOUR EYES!”

He did as Cas asked, but the inside of his eyelids still turned white. When the light faded and Dean opened his eyes, the grindylows were gone. All he could see was pale body floating face down some distance away from their boat.

Dean took a deep breath. He could see Sam wiping his brow and Cas with his hands on his knees.

“Sam looked over at the dead body. “I guess this proves my theory about shapeshifting witches.”

Dean heard, but he was only half paying attention. He was rushing over to Cas to check on him.

“Hey, buddy, you ok?”

Cas grunted, “I’m fine.”

“Thanks for that, y’know. You’re ok, right?”

“I said I’m fine,” Cas growled.

Dean took a step back, his heart sinking. “Look, Cas, you know that line about friendship was a joke, right? A pun.”

Cas stood up, but looked away. “Yeah, I know.”

“Then why are you so mad at me?”

“It just...” Cas’ jaw clenched. He looked down at his shoes, then finally up at Dean. “It hit too close to home I guess.”

“Oh, Cas, no.” Dean struggled for words, realizing what Cas meant. “Tell me you don’t mean what I think you mean. I’m not worth-”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Cas growled.

From the front of the boat, Sam interrupted them. “Uh, hey, guys?”

Dean didn’t want to end his conversation with Cas just now, but they were still on a boat in the ocean. He dug his fingernails into his palms. “What?”

“I think I see the witches ship... Except, it looks like it’s being crushed by a... a...”

“What?”

“A giant squid.”

“WHAT?”

“A kraken.”

“It must be Captain Andrea!” said Cas.

“I hope so. If this isn’t the final boss battle, I can’t imagine what’d come next.”

Dean went up to stand by Sam, and sure enough, there was a ship in the distance getting itself crushed by a whole lotta tentacles.”

“What are we gonna do?”

“Nothing,” said Dean, far more confidently than he felt.

“Nothing? Against that?”

“Nope. We wait.”

They watched as the witch’s ship crumbled to pieces and slowly sank into the ocean. The kraken had disappeared, and everything seemed far too still. The little boat floated on.

“When I say jump,” Dean whispered to the two of them, “get out of the boat.”

“In to the water?” Sam asked. Dean nodded. “But what about being eaten alive?”

“I’ll handle it,” was all he said.

“Dean-”

But at that moment, the boat was lifted straight up into the air, pushed by a giant monster that roared underneath them.

Dean looked over the edge of the boat, and once he could see the kraken’s head, screamed, “JUMP!”

He didn’t see if Sam or Cas did as he asked, he just pulled out a spare angel blade and leapt off the boat. He landed on what was probably the beast’s snout with a wet thump and began to slide over its head towards its eyes. He could hear the snapping of wood as the kraken turned the boat into kindling, but Dean was only half aware. As he got to one of the kraken’s eyes, he jammed the angel blade into it and straight into its brain.

The monster howled with anguish and dropped back into the ocean, where, once it had been swallowed by the water, popped back into Andrea Sparrow, dead.

Cas had managed to pull himself onto one of the larger splinters of what was left of the Mellon. Only the stars shone a faint light, illuminating the white paint on the scattered shards of their boat. On one of the pieces, he saw a hunched over shape.

“Dean?” he called out. “Sam?”

The shape groaned and shifted, and in a shuddering voice said, “Cas?”

“Sam! Where’s Dean?”

“I don’t know.”

Cas looked out at the ocean, his eyes searching frantically for any sign of the man. “Dean?” he yelled.

Suddenly, there was a burbling behind him. He whipped around and saw Dean, tiredly treading water and trying to get on the wood. “Dean!” The breath rushed out of him in a relieved gasp.

Dean grumbled. “Move over, Rose; there’s plenty of room for two.”

“Dean!” called out Sam. “Are you ok?”

“Fine. Just a little wet.”

Cas pulled him the rest of the way onto the board. “You’re implying that the boat we were just on was as big as the Titanic,” he chided. But as Dean looked up at him nervously, Cas leaned forward and pulled him into a tight hug.

As Dean relaxed into Cas’ arms, he murmured, “I love you.”

Cas tensed, and his voice trembled. “What?”

Dean drew away, but he let his drift up to cup Cas’ face. He brushed his thumb along his cheekbone. “It’s true. But I could never admit not knowing how you felt.” He smiled then gestured around at the water. “Besides, this friendship’s too ruined for what I say to make any difference.”

Cas’s lip quirked. “It’s a boat.”

Dean laughed. “It’s a wreck.” He sighed humorously, looking at Cas who was dripping wet and bathed in moonlight. There was nothing left for him to do but pull the angel close and kiss him like there was no tomorrow.

“Are you guys really gonna do this right now?” Sam yelled from somewhere in the deep, vast ocean.

#AND I INCLUDE THE GIANT SQUID I PROMISED #I WROTE AN ENTIRE STORY ABOUT THE OCEAN JUST SO I COULD MAKE THAT STUPID JOKE #YOU'RE WELCOME XD #but same difference really #destiel fanfic #destielfanficnet #my writing #ok it wasn't quite a giant squid #round two #spn #supernatural fanfic #surprise! this blog isn't run by a robot #the great fic writer scavenger hunt #well #otp: i do everything you ask

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