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havenoffandoms · 4 years ago

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“Of all things, you would have thought that the rain was innocuous enough. Turns out, nothing is innocuous in this Gods forsaken place!” geralt and reader, if your still taking requests!

Hey anon! I’m sorry this is a bit later than I would’ve hoped, but this prompt took some figuring out. In the end, I went for a witcher!reader (I kept it genderneutral, since you didn’t specify. I hope that’s okay). Not sure how it came out, but I hope you like it anyway!

Prompt: 47. “Of all things, you would have thought that the rain was innocuous enough. Turns out, nothing is innocuous in this Gods forsaken place!”

Warnings (start after the cut): canon-typical violence, brief description of animal killing, graphic description of blood and injury, swearing, (feral) witcher!reader. Phew, this is on the angsty side. I needed to get that out of my system, clearly.

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You don’t really know how you ended up in this place, much less how you and your companion will find a way out of here. You hear Geralt curse next to you, which only has you rolling your eyes at him. Like cursing and sulking will be any help at all. You bite back the sardonic comment sitting at the tip of your tongue, because as much as you like to think otherwise, your sarcasm won’t improve your situation either.

You re-adjust the two swords strapped to your back and thumb your medallion the way you always do when you’re feeling jittery before a hunt. You feel the Cat-shaped pendant vibrate as you take several steps into the unknown territory you and Geralt portalled into. Your mutated green-yellowish eyes and your keen ears are alert as you take in your surroundings. The place seems deserted, but you know better than to lower your guard. In your line of work, danger is always just around the corner.

“I told you not to step through that stupid portal,” Geralt grouses next to you. You heave a long-suffering sigh and level him with an unimpressed glare.

“For the last time, I thought it was our only way out of there,” you tell him before returning your attention to the strange environment. Everything is quiet… too quiet. “Besides, the toxic fumes were filling the room and we would’ve died of asphyxiation. You’re welcome.”

“Fuck, Y/N. Can’t you see this is a trap?”

“Of course it’s a trap,” you snap, whirling around so you can face Geralt and glower at him, “but we’re alive, aren’t we, which we wouldn’t be if we stayed in that godsforsaken cave!”

“You don’t know that!”

“You didn’t have to follow me,” you challenge him as you step up to him until your faces are mere inches apart, “you could’ve stayed in that cave and died, for all I care! So don’t blame me for your predicament. You had a choice to make, and you made it! End of discussion.”

You feel your anger coursing hotly through your veins, but you will yourself to calm down by taking a few controlled breaths. Now is not the time to lose yourself - you need to be alert, and ready to fight whatever monster decides to attack you first. It turns out neither of you have to wait all that long for the first ambush. You hear the growling of wolves before you see them. You and Geralt both unsheathe your silver swords at the same time, eyes riveted on the pack currently surrounding you.

“Ready?” you ask, a feral grin spreading on your lips as you feel the anticipation rise in you with each passing second.

“Always,” Geralt replies before stepping forward and piercing the first wolf with his sword. Instinctively, you bounce onto the ball of your feet and run in the opposite direction towards your half of the pack. Your movements are light and graceful as you bring your sword far above your head, then down with enough brute force to decapitate the first beast. Before a second wolf can jump at you, you pirouette out of the way, then slash at the wolf’s belly. A third and fourth one flank you, but you manage to roll out of the way in the nick of time. You make quick work of the remaining wolves, and when you turn around to check on Geralt, you see the other witcher panting heavily among a heap of dead wolves. Your eyes meet, but he doesn’t match your giddy grin.

Geralt, always the soft-hearted son of a bitch.

“Let’s go,” you urge him as you wipe the blood off your sword with the hem of your shirt, “like our instructors at Stygga said, where there’s a way in, there has to be a way out.”

You hear Geralt grumble something unintelligible under his breath, but you decide to ignore him in favour of searching for said way out. As far as you’re concerned, he can either be part of the problem, or part of the solution. You know which side you picked. Eventually, Geralt falls into step with you, and the two of you scan your surroundings in a companionable silence. While Geralt seems unsettled and nervous, you find yourself smiling as you saunter through these strange lands. You always affectioned chaos more than order, anyway. Chaos is your element.

You know Geralt doesn’t feel that way, but that’s why you two are the perfect match. Opposites attract, or so they say.

After a while of walking around the place and not encountering other enemies, you’re beginning to think that whoever is in charge of this place wants to toy with you and Geralt. A mage is behind this, there’s no doubt about that, and a clever one at that. They, whoever they might be, must be observing you from afar. It’s like an elaborate game of cat and mouse. The thought makes you smile, and you thumb your medallion again.

You always enjoyed a good mouse chase.

Eventually, something begins to change. The world around you darkens as black clouds roll in over your heads, heavy with the promise of rain and thunder. When the first drop of water hits your skin, you feel an unfamiliar itch right where it hit you. Not thinking much about it, you poke your tongue out and catch the raindrop that hit your lips. The tangy, metallic taste of blood fills your mouth… and that’s when you see it. This is no regular rain. This is a shower of blood.

How very dramatic!

“Of all things, you would have thought that the rain was innocuous enough,” Geralt shouts over the low rumbling of thunder, “turns out, nothing is innocuous in this Gods forsaken place!”

“Geralt, look!” You point north, where your keen eyes caught the sight of something shimmering in the distance. “The portal! Run, we don’t have much time.”

You sprint in that direction, confident that Geralt will be close behind you - or at least, you hope he is. You don’t look back and make a beeline for the portal in the distance. The rain falls harder, lightning hitting the ground right next to your feet. It is only thanks to your feline-like reflexes that you manage to dodge the treacherous strikes. Out of the corner of your eyes, you can see that Geralt has caught up with you and is expertly sidestepping various monsters the mage conjured out of nowhere. The portal is just within reach. You’re almost there… almost… Then you hear it. The distinct sound of something tackling Geralt to the ground. You stop dead in your tracks, your eyes darting between your freedom and the witcher you have come to care very deeply about. Your heart is racing in your chest… the choice really shouldn’t be so difficult.

“Y/N!” you hear Geralt call out to you, “Y/N, save yourself!”

He’s giving you permission to leave him. You briefly consider doing just that, your eyes lingering on the portal. You think that if you’re fast enough, you’ll be able to make it. But a small voice inside your voice tells you that this is more than that. This is the mage toying with you both now. Why else would the portal remain open for so long? Whoever they are expect you to leave Geralt behind… and you won’t give them that satisfaction. You unsheathe your sword and fight off the beasts - nekkers, as it turns out - tackling Geralt to the ground.

“What are you doing?” he roars, and there’s a desperate edge to his tone that you’re unfamiliar with, “Y/N, save yourself! The portal…”

You ignore Geralt’s protests as you feel your blood rage consume you. Geralt’s voice dies in his throat at the sight of you butchering the group of nekkers which a few seconds ago had been pinning Geralt to the ground. You aren’t aware of your own movements anymore, your emotions having well and truly taken over your instincts and lowered your inhibitions. Only when you’ve killed every last nekker do you hoist Geralt to his feet and pull him towards the portal once more.

You don’t know how you made it in time - perhaps the mage took pity on you - but the next thing you know, you feel yourself fall through the portal. You feel like being dragged through space and time by a hook attached to your navel. It’s uncomfortable and painful, but over within several seconds. The air in your lungs is knocked out of you when you hit the ground with brute force. You hear the distinct snapping of bones as both you and Geralt collapse on the forest floor, followed by pained groans falling from both your mouths.

“Fuck!” he curses breathily, “That was close.”

“Too fucking close.” You hiss as you try to push yourself up onto your knees. “Shit! There go my ribs.”

“Tell me about it. I think I broke my arm.”

“We’ll live,” you state conversationally, as if you were discussing the weather. A near hysterical laugh pushes past your lips. “Shit, Geralt. I was right. I told you if there’s a way in, there’s always a way out.”

You watch Geralt roll onto his side and sit up, face pulled in a pained frown as he cradles his broken arm to his chest. Your eyes widen at the sight of him, caked in dry blood from the torrential rain, giving Geralt a near feral look. You guess you don’t look in much better shape if the look in his amber eyes is anything to go by. You manage to crawl up to him and catch his lips in a sloppy kiss.

“Thank you,” he whispers in a gravelly voice in between heated kisses, “for coming back for me.”

“Don’t let it get to your head,” you tell him, “you’d have done the same for me. You wolf witchers are all self-sacrificing bastards.”

“Only for the people who deserve it,” Geralt adds as he cups your face with the hand attached to his good arm, “make of that what you will.”

You offer a kinder smile, your eyes softening as you take in the sight of your lover. You’re both alive. You both made it. Not that you ever doubted that for a second. Well… maybe for a tiny second.

“I’ve told you before. I can be very likeable, when I’m amenable to it.”

#geralt of rivia #geralt z rivii #geralt #witcher geralt #geralt x reader #geralt x y/n #geralt x you #the witcher x reader #the witcher x y/n #the witcher x you #reader insert #cat witcher reader #witcher reader #havenwrites #prompt fill #request open

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eldritchteaparty · 3 years ago

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Chapters: 15/22 Fandom: The Magnus Archives (Podcast) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist Characters: Martin Blackwood, Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Tim Stoker (The Magnus Archives), Sasha James, Rosie Zampano, Oliver Banks, Original Elias Bouchard, Peter Lukas, Annabelle Cane, Melanie King, Georgie Barker, Alice "Daisy" Tonner, Basira Hussain Additional Tags: Post-Canon, Fix-It, Post-Canon Fix-It, Scars, Eventual Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, I'll add characters and tags as they come up, Reference to injuries and blood, Character Death In Dream, Nudity (not sexual or graphic), Nightmares, Fighting

Summary: Following the events of MAG 200, Jon and Martin find themselves in a dimension very much like the one they came from--with second chances and more time.

Chapter summary: Sasha calls a meeting to discuss their current situation, now that Martin and Jon have told their story.

New chapter of my post-canon fix-it is up! Read above at AO3 or read here below.

Tumblr master post with links to previous chapters is here.

***

Martin’s phone buzzed; he didn’t bother opening his eyes. He felt Jon lean toward the coffee table from where he sat underneath Martin’s legs.

“It’s Sasha,” Jon said. “Do you want to get it?”

“Not really.”

The phone continued to buzz.

“Do you… want me to get it?”

Martin realized she would probably just call Jon’s phone next anyway. “Yeah. Yeah, sure.”

Jon picked up on speaker. “Hey, Sasha.”

“Oh—oh, I thought I called—oh. I did.” There was a pause on the other end. “Is he—is Martin ok?”

“He’s—he’s here. He can hear you.”

“Martin, um—how are you?”

Martin still didn’t open his eyes; he started to answer, but he hadn’t spoken loudly for a little while and his voice was gravelly. He cleared his throat. “I’m ok.”

“All right.” There was another pause. “Jon, how are you?”

“I’m—I’m fine.” Jon moved the phone to rest it on Martin’s leg from its spot on the table, and now Martin did open his eyes. He guessed it was about mid-afternoon from the light in the sitting room. “What’s going on?”

“I was calling to tell you—” There was yet another pause. “Jon, I have to ask, do you already know what I’m going to say?”

“Oh,” Jon sat back against the couch. Martin sighed, but shook his head and shrugged when Jon looked at him. He hadn’t meant anything by it, or if he had, he didn’t know what it was. “I—no, not really. Although if you wanted, I could—”

“No, that’s all right. I think I prefer—well, I was calling to say that the police have allowed us to open up the Institute again. But not—”

“Not the archives,” Jon finished. “Or the tunnels.”

“Right. And I was thinking—they’re not going to be there investigating or whatever tonight, and while it’s closed to the public, maybe—we should meet there. All of us.”

“Who is all of us, exactly?”

“Well, I talked to Melanie and she’s told Georgie, and they have some questions… and I talked to Elias. I’m not sure exactly where he is with all this, he didn’t say much, but I’d like to invite him. Obviously Tim is still gone, but—anyway, what do you think? Would you come? Both of you?”

“Hold on.” Jon muted the phone and turned to Martin.

“What?” Martin asked.

“Do you want to?”

Martin sat up, crossing his legs to face Jon. “Is this my decision?”

“If you want it to be.”

“I’m—I’m not sure.” Before Jon answered him, though, he reconsidered. “Wait. Is it safe? Won’t the cops be watching or something? If they’ve closed it off—I mean, it’s probably not on the honor system.”

Jon went quiet and Martin could tell he was doing more than just turning it over—he was reaching out for something. “I think—for the moment—that could work in our favor.”

Martin waited to see if Jon would offer more of an explanation, but wasn’t particularly surprised when he didn’t. “Fine. If it’s safe, it’s your decision.”

“I can’t promise it’s safe, but—it’s as safe as anything else.”

Martin nodded and closed his eyes again. He didn’t bother listening to the end of the conversation. It was fine, really. Going was no worse than not going.

***

When they arrived that evening, there were two signs that the archives were closed; one was the crossed lines of blue tape reading “POLICE LINE: DO NOT CROSS” at the top of the stairs, and the other was a literal sign taped to the banister indicating that the archives were closed until further notice. Martin carefully lifted up one side of the tape.

“After you,” he told Jon.

“Thanks,” Jon said, stepping gingerly over the lower piece of tape.

As they entered the office, Sasha, Melanie, and Georgie, who had arrived before them, fell silent around the conference table. Jon and Martin stood awkwardly, almost apologetically, until Sasha attempted to bridge the discomfort.

“Thanks for coming,” she said.

Jon nodded, and Martin turned his gaze toward the floor. He hadn’t noticed until that moment, but the rug, the same generic office rug that wasn’t quite the right size to fit under the conference table, had the same exact stain on it that it had in the other dimension. It came from some time before the rug had come to be in the assistants’ office, and Martin had no idea what its origin was, but that really wasn’t important.

Nothing was going to be any different.

“Martin.” Jon said his name with an emphasis that indicated it wasn’t the first time he’d said it, and Martin looked up to find Jon already sitting, with an extra empty chair pulled over to the table for him.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, making his way to the seat. This put him between Jon and Melanie; Georgie was on the other side of Melanie, and Sasha was to the other side of Jon. Between the five of them, they took up just about all the room they could comfortably have at the table.

Sasha spoke again. “Well, I don’t know if we’re still waiting for Elias, but—we might as well go ahead. Jon, I told you on the phone that I talked to Melanie and Georgie, and they had some—questions they wanted to ask.”

“Of course,” Jon said. Martin glanced at Melanie’s face to find the steely, unyielding expression she had worn so often when he had known her before. He realized he hadn’t missed it. Georgie, on the other hand, looked worried. He had seen that expression on her as well, but there was something different about it now. Maybe it was a hint of the fear she could still feel here.

“To be fair,” Georgie started, “Melanie has some questions. I really don’t think we should be here. I’m—I’m really only here for her.”

“You feel like it’s safer to stay away,” Jon said quietly.

“Well—yes, frankly. Melanie’s already been through enough, and honestly—it just doesn’t feel like we can really help. It feels like—like we can only get hurt. And that just doesn’t seem—responsible.”

“That could be true.”

Melanie broke in. “Wait, before we—"

Melanie stopped speaking as Sasha sat up; they all followed her gaze to find Elias standing in the doorway. He looked small, Martin thought. Tired.

“Sorry for being late. Didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“No—no, you didn’t. I wasn’t sure if—well, I’m glad you’re here. I’m sure we can—” Sasha looked around at the table, trying to figure out where they could most easily squeeze in another extra chair.

“I’m fine. I’m—I’m fine here.” He sat on the corner of Tim’s desk, facing the group.

“Are you sure?”

“I think I’ll just listen, if that’s all right.”

“Yes, of course. That—that’s fine.”

Martin could not have explained exactly what it was he noticed, but something about the way Jon was sitting changed just slightly, and Martin realized Jon couldn’t see Elias from his position at the table. He leaned in close to him.

“Do you want to switch seats?” he whispered.

Jon looked at him long enough that Martin realized he was considering, but then shook his head. “No. No, I’m all right.” Despite his words, his fingers grasped Martin’s below the edge of the table, and Martin realized that he’d maybe inadvertently overestimated Jon’s level of comfort with this situation.

“Everything all right?” Sasha asked.

“Yes,” said Jon, and then after a moment, “thank you.”

“Go on, Melanie.”

Melanie looked from Jon to Martin, and then back to Jon again. “What do you want?”

“What?”

“What do you want? Why did you tell us all this?”

“I—I don’t want anything.” Jon looked back at Melanie in confusion.

“Then why did you tell us all this?”

“It was me. I thought we should,” Martin interrupted. “It didn’t feel right to keep hiding it.”

“Well then, let me ask a different question—why didn’t you tell anyone for so long?”

“When everything—when we first—” Martin hadn’t really planned on doing any talking, and he wasn’t prepared. He stopped and gathered his thoughts, then started over. “After everything happened, it took a while for things to—to come into focus. For a bit we could only remember the—the other place, and we weren’t sure where we were, or if you were all you—and then after we understood everything, well, it was just complicated. After what happened in the tunnels yesterday though—it was just—it was time. Probably past time, I don’t know.”

“Hm.” Melanie’s expression didn’t change. “So what are you going to tell us we should do, now that we know?”

Tell them to do? Martin looked at Jon; this wasn’t really a question he had anticipated.

“Nothing,” Jon said.

“Nothing,” Melanie repeated. “No advice for defeating these—fear powers, whatever they are? No explaining to us how we have to help you become more powerful so that you can—”

“No.” Martin felt a bit of anger when he realized what she was implying. “No, it—it’s not like that. Jon—Jon’s not—”

“No.” Jon squeezed his hand. “No advice. No—requests.”

“Sasha said—Sasha said that in the other world, the Institute—was like a trap, I guess. Like once people worked there, they couldn’t leave. They had to serve these things.”

“Just one of them. Just the Eye.”

“And you were in charge.”

Martin started. “What?”

“Jon was the archivist there instead of Sasha. And he had some kind of power. And—” She looked directly at Jon. “You still have it now.”

“That’s true,” Jon said.

“It was Jonah,” Martin blurted out. “It had nothing to do with Jon. Jonah Magnus was in charge of the whole thing. It was all him, he was the one who set it all up, who trapped everyone into working for him, and—”

“Right,” Melanie said. “Jonah Magnus, the—the old dead guy who started the Institute.”

“But he wasn’t dead there,” Martin snapped. “He was—”

The pressure of Jon’s fingers on his changed, and he stopped.

“He was Elias,” Melanie finished. “Or Elias was Jonah. Something like that.”

“Jonah—” Jon turned his head to look at Elias, who was still sitting quietly on the edge of Tim’s desk.

“It’s all right,” Elias said. “Say whatever you need to say. I’m fine.”

Jon turned back to the table. “Jonah killed Elias. And used his physical body to stay alive and run the Institute.”

Melanie looked like she was about to say something else, but then she glanced at Elias again and seemed to change her mind.

“Ok, look—what I really want to know is—what if—what if I do try to—help, somehow. Am I—am I already trapped here? And would it—would I really just be working for this—this Eye?”

“You’re not trapped here,” Jon said. “None of you—none of us—are. But that’s not really what you want to know, is it?”

“What do you mean?” Melanie asked.

“You want to know if you can trust me.”

Melanie thought. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess I do.”

Jon contemplated for a moment. “I don’t know.”

“Jon.” Martin couldn’t help it. “Yes, of course you can trust him. Jesus Christ, Jon.”

“Hm.”

Silence fell momentarily over the small group, until Georgie spoke again.

“All right. Let me—it sounds like, there, Melanie and I did everything we could to—to avoid it. To stay away. And clearly that didn’t work out, but—well, I’ve already said it, I’m inclined that way now. So tell me. How did I feel about it? In the end?”

Martin bit his lip; his frustration with Melanie and Jon’s back-and-forth left him. He remembered their conversation on that last night as well as he imagined Jon did.

“What?” Georgie said. “Be honest.”

Jon took a breath. “You regretted it.”

“Oh, of course she did,” Melanie countered immediately. “Look, Georgie, maybe I do want to at least—but that’s just—I don’t want you to make any decisions because of him. How do you know if you can trust him? Even he said—and how do you know he’s even really your Jon?”

“How do I—”

“Oh, I don’t mean—” She turned awkwardly to Martin. “I don’t mean her Jon, I just—”

Martin put a hand to his forehead. “I don’t think anyone thought—”

“Wait.” Jon let go of Martin’s other hand to hold up a finger, and everyone stopped talking. They listened to the silence until Jon spoke again. “You can come in, Basira.”

Sasha stood up as Basira, arms crossed and looking slightly disconcerted, entered the assistants’ office.

“Oh,” Sasha said, “I know the archives are off limits—we were just—”

“It’s all right,” Basira said. “I’m not here to arrest any of you.”

“Oh,” Sasha said again, slowly sinking back into her chair. They all stared uncomfortably. “Then, um… why are you here?”

“I saw you were all here”—she pointed to a corner of the room, where Martin couldn’t actually see anything but had to assume there was a camera of some sort installed— “and I suppose I wanted to—try to find out more about what happened the other day.”

“And to ask about Daisy,” Jon added.

Basira looked at him, apparently trying to make up her mind about something, but then she nodded slowly. “Yeah. And to ask about Daisy.”

“Oh,” Sasha said one more time. “Hang on, I’m sure we can find somewhere for you to—”

“I’ve got it,” Elias said, grabbing Tim’s chair and bringing it out from behind his desk for her to sit on. They all turned awkwardly toward her from their seats at the table.

“Well,” she said, “I don’t find myself in this situation often. This is not exactly how I imagined this going down.”

“Sorry.” Martin found himself apologizing for the situation. “If you want, I could—”

“Oh, no, it’s fine.” Basira waved him off. “It’s good for my hubris, anyway. So look—we’ve been getting a lot of very strange reports lately. I have a feeling you know what I mean. And we’ve had some incidents ourselves, but—the point is, some of the people who came to us mentioned they had talked to you all here at the Magnus Institute. They had this idea that you all studied things like that here, or—or something. And then yesterday, you clearly knew something about whatever had happened down there in the tunnels. At least, you two did.” She turned to Martin and Jon. “You two and the other one—you know, the hot one?”

“Tim,” Jon said, then looked at Martin. “I don’t—she said that once in—”

Martin put his hands up. “Why is everyone doing this tonight? I really—I’m really not that sensitive.”

“Right,” Jon said. “Sorry.”

“Anyway,” Basira continued, “when I remembered about the missing person thing and thought about the timing, and just—it felt like there might be some connection. So when I saw you were all here, I thought that instead of reporting it, I’d just come see what I could find out. And if—well, if you did know something, then—yeah.”

“And do you still want to talk about Daisy now?” Jon asked.

“Yeah, I think so. It’s just—she’s my partner, you know? And—it’s hard. I feel bad.”

“Go on,” Jon said. “Tell us.”

Martin recognized something in his tone.

“Jon.”

Jon turned to meet his eyes.

“It’s all right,” he said. “She wants to talk.”

Martin wasn’t sure if it was all right, but Basira certainly didn’t seem bothered.

“So here’s the thing. Like I said, Daisy is my partner. I’ve worked with her for years now. We put our lives in each other’s hands all the time. I don’t know how to describe that to someone who’s never experienced it. I think the point is, we trust each other. More than most people will ever have to trust another person. And I’ve worked hard to earn that trust. I know her. Don’t get me wrong—she’s not perfect. She’s always been—determined, and sometimes that’s maybe pushed her to take things out of step or—I don’t know. But she’s always wanted justice. That’s always been important to her. Trying to make things right. Or at least as right as they can be. I mean—you see a lot of bad stuff on the force, really bad stuff, and there are some things that nothing will ever make right, but—you know.

“After everything started happening though—around the time you reported these two missing—something changed in her. And it’s been getting worse. There are some days when I feel like I don’t know her now. At first, I thought it was just the stress of dealing with the incidents, signing the section forms, all of that, but—then I started seeing it. That look in her eyes. I’m sure you saw it yesterday. That’s not her. Not really. Lately it’s like it doesn’t seem to matter to her whether she’s even got the right person. And then—she’ll disappear for days sometimes. She’s done that before, but she’s at least always told me where she was going or what case she was investigating. Now I have no idea. And the worst part is that I don’t think I really want to know. I suppose that makes me kind of a shit partner.

“You know, I really don’t know why I’m saying all of this. Don’t repeat it to anyone—if you do, I’ll lie. I just—I want it to stop. I want whatever’s happened to her to stop.”

Jon nodded. “And what have you figured out so far?”

“Well, let’s see. There’s some kind of monsters here. And they have something to do with you.” She looked at Jon and Martin.

“Close enough,” Jon said. “What else do you want to know?”

“What’s their purpose?”

“Fear. They create it, and they survive on it.”

“Ok, and—what do they have to do with Daisy? Why are they messing with her?”

“Technically, they’re not,” Jon answered.

“What does that mean?”

“It means—Daisy is drawn to them. One of them, in particular. It’s called—it’s called the Hunt.”

“Does she know about the—the Hunt? Is she aware of it?”

“Not directly.”

“So she doesn’t know what she’s doing.”

“No.”

“And is she—is she afraid?”

“No,” Jon shook his head. “She—she’s happy, I suppose. She likes it. But if she knew, and she could choose—she wouldn’t choose it.”

“I see.”

They waited a moment.

“Is there—anything else you want to know?” Jon asked.

“Not really. Not unless there’s something I can do. I’d rather not keep things from Daisy. Just—are you trying to stop it?”

“Yes,” Sasha answered.

Martin felt a small pulse from the lump still lurking in his gut.

“To be completely honest,” Jon said, “it’s not likely we can.”

“But we’re going to try,” Sasha said.

“Good.” Basira stood up from her chair. “What do you need from me? Obviously I’m somewhat limited, but I might be able to help with something.”

“What do you think, Jon?” Sasha asked.

“Maybe—keep the archives closed. Officially. For a while. If they’re open, and we’re here—they’ll only be a target.”

“Easy enough,” Basira answered. “Speaking of, though—try not to come back here. I can’t guarantee I’d be the only one watching. Or even that I’d be able to warn you if—if someone else were interested.”

“Got it,” Sasha said. “Anything else, Jon?”

“Not at the moment. If we need anything else, though—”

“Here’s my number.” Basira was already writing on a pad of paper on Tim’s desk. “That is my direct number, but—be careful. I don’t know what’s going to happen between now and—whenever.”

“Understood.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to—stick around?” Sasha asked. “I’m sure we’d—”

“Better not,” Basira answered, setting the pen back down on the desk. “But I’ll do what I can. And really—don’t stay here too much longer tonight, either.”

“All right,” said Sasha. “Thank you.”

“I haven’t done anything yet.” Basira headed toward the door. “Save your thanks.”

“That was strange,” Sasha said, after Basira had left. “Jon, did you know she would come?”

“I knew—I knew Basira was in charge of watching the archives. And I knew she was worried about Daisy.”

“I see,” Sasha said.

They sat in silence for a few moments.

“So what are we doing?” Georgie asked. “Are we—are we really going to try to stop it?”

“Yes,” Sasha said again, even more insistently than the first time.

“Sasha,” Jon said softly, “I don’t—”

“I know, you’re not sure we can.”

“Hang on,” Melanie said. “Jon, do you—do you know we can’t stop it? Or—or are you saying that because you couldn’t before?”

“I don’t—” Jon looked down at his hands, where they had come to rest on the table. “No. I don’t know that we can’t stop it.”

“Then we have to try,” Sasha said. “Think about it. There’s no apocalypse here. Jonah Magnus isn’t here. Most people—other than us—don’t even really know these things exist. These rituals, they were all deliberate, right? Somebody had to choose to start them. And we know so much more than you did. Maybe we can find a way.”

Jon answered with silence; Martin turned to stare at the wall.

“At least say you’re with us, Jon. If the rest of us try. At least be on our side. You too, Martin.”

Jon sighed. “Yes, of course I’m on your side. If that’s what you choose.”

“Martin?”

He turned back to find Sasha looking at him expectantly.

“Look—it’s not like I’m—”

Jon took his hand. “This is what you want, isn’t it?”

“We need you, Martin,” Sasha added.

Need. He remembered telling Jon once that they didn’t need him—that Jon didn’t need him. His own words echoed in his head. Everyone’s alone, but we all survive.

They didn’t all survive, though, did they?

“Fine.” He still didn’t believe they needed him, or even that having him around would change anything—but he wouldn’t abandon them, either. “I’m—I’m here.”

“Good.” Sasha said. “Melanie? Georgie?”

“What do you think?” Melanie asked, turning to Georgie.

“Well,” Georgie said, “I know I don’t want to have any regrets. And I do trust Jon. But Melanie, I meant it, you’ve been through so much already, and—”

“We’re in,” Melanie said. “For now, at least.”

“All right,” Sasha said. “Elias?”

They all turned toward him.

“Hm.” He smiled faintly, almost inwardly. “Sure. Why not?”

“That’s all of us, then. And I’ll get Tim back here as soon as he’s ready.”

“So—now what?” Georgie asked.

“I—” Sasha frowned. “I don’t know. I suppose we can’t stay here much longer, though. We’ll have to come up with another meeting spot.”

Elias cleared his throat. “Are we safe?”

Everyone turned to Jon in a way that Martin found very familiar.

“Safe—how?” Jon asked.

“Are we safe? When we leave here—will we be all right?”

“That’s complicated.” Jon thought. “I suppose we’re relatively safe, for the moment. That could change any time, though, and I wouldn’t necessarily know if it did. And once Annabelle—understands that we’re—”

“Annabelle is the—the Web lady?” Sasha asked. “The one that came here with you?”

“Yes,” Jon said.

“I guess what I’m wondering is—would we be safer if we were together?” Elias asked.

“I don’t know.”

Martin thought about the time after the Unknowing, and before he’d ended up in the Lonely. Certainly the other assistants had all felt safer staying together. Probably they had been. And Martin, well, he hadn’t really been that concerned about his safety then, had he? He’d sort of just been waiting for something to—

“Yeah,” he said. “Probably.”

Jon nodded.

Elias continued. “Well, if you want—and I can understand if you don’t—you all can come and stay with me and Allan. I’ve certainly got enough spare rooms to go around.”

“To be honest, I wouldn’t mind,” Sasha replied. “I mean—I know Melanie and Georgie have each other, and Jon and Martin, but I—yeah. If it’s ok.”

“Of course it is. What about the rest of you?”

“We—have a cat,” Melanie said.

“That’s fine. Bring the cat.”

Melanie and Georgie spoke in whispers to each other for a moment, and then turned back to the rest of the group.

“If Sasha’s going, we’ll go,” Melanie said, slipping her hand into Georgie’s.

“Thanks.” The relief was evident in Sasha’s voice. “Martin? Jon?”

“It’s up to you,” Jon said, turning to Martin.

“We’ll go.” Martin was almost surprised to hear the words come out of his own mouth; he certainly hadn’t made anything like a conscious decision.

“All right, then.” Elias stood up from Tim’s desk, and Martin thought he saw some relief in him as well. “It’s a bit out in the country. Who has a car?”

***

Martin was trying, but the one small duffel bag he had wouldn’t quite fit everything he wanted to bring. They had an hour or so to pack before Elias was coming to pick them up, and he knew it really wasn’t a big deal—it wouldn’t be that hard to come get something else if he needed it—but that didn’t temper his frustration. If he managed to get his toiletries in the bag, then there were a couple of shirts that just didn’t want to let the zipper close; he could fit the shirts, but then—did he really need more than one pair of pants?

“Ugh.” He let the shirts drop to the floor and slumped back against the bed.

“I have room,” Jon said, from his seat on the floor next to Martin. His suitcase was neatly packed already, and he’d pretty much been watching Martin struggle for five minutes.

“It’s not—hang on, I can do this.” He unpacked the duffel bag again. It was more of a gym bag than anything actually meant for traveling. He’d never gone anywhere when his mother had still been living with him, and then after she had moved out, he still didn’t like being too far away from her. The bag had really only ever served for overnights—which he’d done less often than he might have, too.

Once again, he came up short on space. It was those two shirts.

“God damn it.”

“Just put them in my suitcase,” Jon said.

Without answering, he leaned forward and put all his weight on the small stack of clothing that was already in the bag with one arm, and tried again to jam the shirts in on top of them.

He stopped when he felt Jon’s hand on his elbow.

“Martin—do you want to do this? Do you want to go?”

He sat back on his calves. “I don’t really have a choice, do I?”

“Of course you do.”

“Jon—you know I’m not going to stay here if you’re going.”

“That’s not what I meant. If you want to stay—I’ll stay here with you.”

Martin leaned back against the bed again, and Jon did as well. Their arms met at the shoulder.

“Do you mean that?” Martin asked. “Would you be mad?”

“I wouldn’t be mad. Martin, you—you waited for me. In Scotland. You waited for me to be ready. I’ll wait for you.”

Martin nodded; Jon shifted his weight to rest against him, and Martin slipped his arm just behind Jon’s back.

“So this is that, then? This is us leaving the cabin again?”

“Maybe.” Jon let his head fall against Martin’s chest. “Maybe not. Maybe it comes to nothing.”

“You know, this—kind of reminded me of packing to go there. To the cabin. Except—” His throat caught.

“You don’t have to talk about it.”

“I want to, though.” Martin took a breath. “Talking to you—it always makes me feel a bit better, at least. I know you’re not like that, when you—just give me a moment.”

“Take all the time you need.”

Martin looked around the room, as much as he could without pushing Jon away. The bed, the dresser—he hadn’t been there that long, but the amount of time was irrelevant. Despite the questions he’d had later about their living situation, it had stopped being Jon’s bed the moment he’d gotten there; it was their bed. Their dresser. Their bathroom. It was silly to even care about sharing most of those things, but it had mattered. It was what he’d wanted. And as much as Jon could, it was what he’d wanted, too. Martin knew that.

“I was—maybe it was selfish—but I was happy when we went to that cabin. Or maybe—maybe just hopeful—but it had been so long since I’d had any hope, it felt like happiness.”

“Me too,” Jon said.

“And I’m—I’m sad now.” Martin laughed in spite of himself.

“What’s funny about that?” Jon asked.

“Remember when we argued about expressing your emotions, and I asked you how you felt about the apocalypse, and all you said was—sad?”

“Oh,” Jon smiled too, now. “I do remember.”

“I’m—I’ll do better. I feel hopeless. Worse than hopeless, when I think about how we felt then, because we it was so different. We still thought we could stop it. Call it off. Now, it’s—it feels like it’s just the end. And we’re walking into it.”

“Not necessarily. It could—they could all decide there’s nothing we can do, and we’ll be back here in a week.”

“But if we are—isn’t that—isn’t that just as bad? Doesn’t it just go the same place, with one more failure behind us?”

“Martin, we really don’t have go. Not yet.”

Martin thought. He didn’t want to leave. But he also knew if they stayed—while everyone else was together, scared, groping for answers—it wouldn’t be the same. It was over, either way.

“Jon?”

“Yes,” Jon answered quietly.

“I’m—I’m glad we had this.”

“Me too.”

#the magnus archives #tma #mag pod #tma spoilers #jonmartin #tma fanfic #my writing

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flipomatic · 4 years ago

Text

Range of Emotion: Chapter 4 - Love

Author Note: Volume 8 spoilers continue. This is non canon.

First Chapter Previous Chapter

___________________________________________________

A green fluid was dripping slowly from Penny’s chest, leaving bright splatters of neon along the ground. Ruby’s clothes were covered in it, making her even easier to track for the virus that had taken control.

They were outside, near the crater where Penny had crash landed before. Ruby stood more than ten feet away from Penny, with Crescent Rose drawn. She held it in a defensive stance, eyes wide with concern.

Weiss and Blake were nearby, with their weapons drawn as well. Ruby signaled for them to stay back, so they watched and waited.

The virus that had occupied Penny’s body wasn’t concerned with the other two. It only had attention for two things: the relic and Ruby. It had first just tried to leave the building to go to the relic, kicking its rocket boots into gear to fly through, until it spotted Ruby.

A new directive flashed; to kill the girl in the red hood. Cinder would hate it if someone else did the job before she could. Penny wasn’t sure why she had that thought, but she opposed it on every level.

Then the virus, controlling Penny’s body, attacked.

Now, as Penny wrestled to try and take back control, it whipped her blades towards Ruby. The teen dodged, using her weapon to deflect the attack. She had already taken a few hits, but still had plenty of aura remaining. At least, Penny hoped she did. She couldn’t run the scan to check, no matter how desperately she wanted too.

Even though Penny couldn’t feel her body, couldn’t feel the tightening in her chest that came with the emotion, she was afraid.

“Snap out of it Penny!” Ruby called out to her, her voice rough with emotion. “I know you’re in there!” She ducked under another attack, barely avoiding being hit.

The virus that controlled Penny didn’t respond to her. It seemed to lack the desire or even the consciousness to communicate. Instead, it brought the swords back to charge up a laser blast, aimed directly at Ruby.

Again Ruby dodged, maintaining her defensive stance.

“I won’t fight you.” The frown on Ruby’s face was more pronounced than Penny had seen before. A hint of tears glimmered in the corners of her eyes.

The virus fired the laser again, this time without having to charge it first. It struck Ruby in the chest, sending her stumbling back towards the crater.

No, this couldn’t be happening. Penny searched the virus again to look for a weakness, to try to find a way to stop it.

Penny wanted to tell Ruby to fight back, that it would be fine and she could be repaired. She was already losing the fluids that flowed through her veins, a little more damage would be fine. Especially if it kept Ruby safe.

Unfortunately, she still couldn’t find a way to take control. The virus had hijacked everything with these new instructions, keeping her locked onto those paths. Penny tried to run a code that would bring just one of her arms back, but it was rebuffed instantly.

She had no idea where this virus came from or how it had even gotten into her system. Perhaps when she jacked into the Atlas base? If so, it had taken a while to activate.

Penny could only watch as her body fired again, blasting Crescent Rose from Ruby’s hands and sending her tumbling down into the crater. As she fell, her aura flickered out. No, no no, this couldn’t be happening.

Penny’s body stepped forward to follow, but had to reconsider when it detected motion behind her.

Weiss, Penny always knew Weiss was her second favorite friend, no longer seemed content with watching her leader be attacked. She lunged towards Penny at high speed, a glyph in the air behind her. The virus, being cued by Penny’s motion sensors, dodged easily before bringing the bringing the blades around to push Weiss through.

Weiss regained her footing quickly, spinning to again face her opponent. She had her sword pointed towards Penny, but her eyes, directed at the crater and her fallen leader, showed where her attention really was. Blake had run over to the crater while Weiss lunged in, keeping a wide distance between herself and Penny.

The virus calculated the next angle of attack, not concerned about fighting both of them if it meant having an easier time achieving its other goals. The bleeding was a problem, but the program said Penny’s body could take them. That was the last thing Penny wanted.

After another moment, barely a second, Weiss leapt back into action. She lunged forward with an attack from below, which was easily deflected. The attack was weaker than usual, weaker than when Penny had trained with the team.

At the crater, Blake was leaning in to help pull Ruby up. The red hooded girl emerged slowly, but once she reached level ground she seemed able to stand on her own.

“Don’t hurt her.” Ruby said quietly, looking down at one closed fist. She left Crescent Rose on the ground.

Weiss sighed, but otherwise didn’t move. “Then what do you suggest?” While they talked, Penny tried another attack on the virus. She had to figure out how it got in, so that she could stop it. She ran a code to try and find the source, to see where it was coming from.

“I can reach her.” Ruby’s voice was stronger now, as her eyes came up to meet Penny’s. “I know it.”

Now Weiss took a step back, sword still raised. “One more chance.” She emphasized the first word.

Blake took up a spot on the opposite side of Penny, likely prepared to attack from multiple angles if needed.

The virus wasn’t worried about this. Penny didn’t think it was even capable of that kind of emotion. It just recalculated, and then raised its ring of swords once again.

Ruby didn’t move, didn’t pick up her weapon. She raised her right hand, the one that was closed, and slowly opened in it.

In her palm was a familiar object, one Penny always kept on her. It was the hair clip, which had been attached to her pocket. Ruby must’ve found it in the crater, where it fell out of Penny’s pocket as she crashed into the ground.

It still looked to be intact, which was the one and only positive for the day.

“You had this.” Ruby held up the hair clip to scrutinize it. “Since you stopped wearing it, I thought you didn’t like it.” She mused, closing her hand again around the clip. Penny wanted to say that the opposite was true, that she didn’t want it to get damaged.

The virus, not one for conversation, moved abruptly to strike. It swung the blades forward, in a spinning motion. Ruby tried to duck the blow, but it had figured out how she moved. It adjusted the trajectory to hit her in the side, again knocking her to the ground.

Penny’s body then stepped closer, grasping one of its swords to perhaps strike a final blow.

On the inside, Penny was frantically searching for a way to stop it. She was getting closer; she could feel it. She hoped Ruby would defend herself with the clip, that she would use it as a knife. It was her last line of defense.

Ruby sat up and coughed once; she still had the clip grasped tight in her hand. “I never told you what the flower means.” Her voice had weakened, but still carried her innate strength. She looked up at Penny’s body, now standing over her. “Red carnations represent affection.” Ruby’s lip raised in a small smile, as if everything was not going wrong. “And love.”

Affection and love? Penny wasn’t fully in control of her ears so she wasn’t sure if she heard that right. Ruby loved her? Penny was familiar with the concept of love, she loved her father, but she hadn’t checked it against anyone else.

What did it feel like, to be in love? Penny didn’t know that either, and she didn’t think this was the right moment to contemplate it.

In fact, she was quite short on time. The virus was raising its arm to prepare another blow, and off to the side Weiss was charging up a summon.

Luckily, due to her persistent searching, Penny finally found what she was looking for. One of her blades, the one she had lost at the Atlas base to the Ace-Ops, was emitting the virus.

The quickest way to disable it would be to disconnect from all of her blades. While booted, she could do this temporarily by resetting their program, but it would only last a minute. It would have to do for now, until she could think of a longer term solution.

Penny entered the code to reset them immediately, hoping with every wire in her body that she wasn’t too late.

As the swords reset, the ones hovering behind her dropped to the ground. As they did, Penny was finally able to move again. She opened her hand and let the last sword fall.

“Penny?” Ruby leapt onto her feet, silver eyes gleaming. “Is it really you?” Her voice broke mid question.

“I only have a minute.” Penny jumped right to what needed to be done. “It’s controlling me through the swords, we have to disable them permanently.” Think, think, how could that be done? Wait, the detach switch, that was it. “There’s a button under my bow, on the control panel. If you press it the blades will deactivate until I reattach them.” This was a safety measure after what happened with Pyrrha, though it wasn’t actually that practical. Ruby would need a long thin object to be able to activate it.

“How do I do that?” Ruby leaned forward to look on the back of Penny’s neck, squinting.

“Use the…” Penny’s voice stopped mid-sentence, as the virus started to come back and retake control. Her blades once again rose from the ground. “I…” She fought it, but again it was no use. It quickly lunged forward to try and punch Ruby, who skittered away with a shriek of surprise.

Immediately, a summoned soldier was upon her. It swung at Penny’s body to push it back, to make some distance between it and Ruby.

Blake came next, swinging around to draw the attention of the virus.

Even though the virus thought it could beat them, as Penny knew her friends were way stronger than any calculation could give them credit for.

Between the two of them, as Ruby retrieved her weapon and called for them to not hurt Penny, they were able to freeze her blades and contain her. The virus still lacked emotion, as it strived to get free to continue its goals.

Ruby approached, with the hair clip in hand. She had flipped it open to a knife, and she stood behind Penny to try and find the button she mentioned.

“This looks complicated.” Blake commented as Ruby opened the panel on Penny’s bow.

“I got it.” Ruby sounded confident, and Penny was rooting for her. She hummed quietly as she examined the interface, finally spotting the gap that contained the button. It was kept inside of a crevice, so it couldn’t be pressed by accident. “Found it.”

Though Penny couldn’t see what Ruby was doing, there was only one tool she could be using to do it. The hair clip that was also a knife was the only thing on hand that would fit.

A moment later, and it seemed like they had been successful. The blades stopped struggling to leave the ice, and Penny was able once again to feel her own limbs. The strings connecting her body to the blades disconnected, coiling into the weapons. She turned her head to look around, taking in the mess in the courtyard.

The rope from Blake’s weapon, which had been wrapped around her, loosened. Once her hands were free, Penny lifted them to look at them. They were stained green with her own blood.

Ruby stepped around her, grasping Penny’s hands with her free one. “Are you… you?” She asked, glimmering silver eyes locked on Penny’s.

“I think so.” Penny ran a system diagnostic, which made note of the steady loss of blood and inability to connect to her blades. It asked if she wanted to re-establish the connection, which Penny promptly denied.

In front of her, Ruby folded the knife back into a hair clip. She reached forward, placing it in Penny’s hands. “There, back where it belongs.”

Penny carefully clipped it back into her pocket where it would be safe, remembering what Ruby had said about it before. Love, such a foreign emotion.

Now, as Ruby collapsed to her knees and Penny wrapped her arms around her to ease her fall, perhaps she had time to consider it.

All of this time, all of these weeks, she had been fighting and struggling with her emotions. She’d felt so many different things, so much stronger than she ever had before. She’d wrestled with her decisions, with following her desires down the suboptimal path.

The relief she felt now, as Ruby was in her arms and unharmed, was also familiar.

Was love the word she was looking for all along?

Penny thought it might’ve been.

Ruby lifted her arms around Penny, holding her tightly. Penny brought one hand up to brush Ruby’s bangs, which had fallen into her face in the conflict, to the side.

“Don’t leave me again.” Ruby muttered, her cheeks tinging pink. She lifted one hand to place gently against Penny’s.

Penny didn’t have a heart, but if she did she was sure it would be racing.

“I won’t.”

#rwby #rwby fanfiction #nuts and dolts #ruby rose #penny polendina #rwby spoilers #spoilers #rwby 8 #rwby volume 8 #this is the last chapter #thanks for reading and I hope you liked it!#I had fun writing it

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blissfulalchemist · 4 years ago

Note

“Don’t look at me like that, I didn’t ask to be the savior in the prophecy!” + chance 💋

Thank you for the suggestion Stella! Turned into a full canon chapter! So please enjoy!

Can also be read on Ao3 too!

“I say we come in from the south side after making a blast from the north, you know as a distraction,” Sharky suggested a smile on his face.

“Pretty sure you just want an excuse to blow something up don’t you?” Kim asked her face tired as she looked up from the map, “Besides that wouldn’t work. There’s too many Bliss containers everywhere, it could make things worse in the long run and get more people hurt.”

“Well that’s your opinion,” Sharky said crossing his arms, “Let’s get another one,” his eyes landed onto Chance sitting in a chair, black boots propped on the desk of the old jail, fingers laced behind his head as he looked up to the ceiling. “Chance whatcha you think? You’re running this whole operation here.”

Chance’s green eyes moved down to Sharky slowly, he had gotten to sixty five tiles on the ceiling that had water damage, giving a shrug, “If Kim thinks it’s a bad idea it probably is. We aren’t here to make any unnecessary casualties.” Chance looked back up to the ceiling and let out a sigh, this meeting was taking too long and he just wanted to go back home. He managed to find a small liquor stash from a store meaning he had some of the good stuff waiting for him. Thinking about it he should have drank a little more to make it through this meeting, maybe then he could muster the enthusiasm they wanted from him.

“Chance,” Kim said watching him, “you know it would be nice for you to have a little bit more of an opinion on these matters. It is you that executes the plans.”

Chance brought his boots down to the floor, the thump echoing against the concrete walls. He spun in the chair back and forth in a half circle, his eyes fixed on Kim, “Well it's not like I have anything better to offer. Everyone knows their strengths and knows what mine are, so I just follow whatever you tell me.” He stopped moving, catching the mom look in Kim’s eyes, her arms crossing, Guess we know who really wears the pants in this relationship, “What? That’s our system. If it ain’t broke don’t fix it.”

“Chance this is your life on the line here, you know that right?” She pursed her lips as Chance nodded, her eyebrow cocking, “And that there are people relying on you?” Kim asked, watching as he just shrugged, she scoffed, “We need you alive.”

“You needed me to rally people together and that’s what I did,” Chance responded standing from the chair, “You do know that you can always send someone else in to do the hard work right? There’s more people here that want to “help” save their home.” He rolled his eyes, the weight of the flask in his back pocket turning to lead stopping himself from reaching for it. “Ask one of them to go in, why not Jess? Or Grace? They’re both stealthy enough to make it in and get the job done.”

“You know Jess got stuff to do up in the mountains with Eli,” Sharky said, his brow furrowing together, “She can’t make it down here. ‘Nd Grace well she’s still running point on John with Nick. You’re the only one able to make this neck of the woods priority.”

Chance scoffed, “Right, that’s always the case with you all.” He shook his head, rubbing his temples, “Look you guys come up with some plan and I’ll follow orders okay. If you want to give me some help that would be preferable, for now I’m gonna step outside, get something to eat and some fresh air.” He walked out the room quickly making his way to the back of the jail leaning against the wall of it, letting out a slow breath, closing his eyes as the sun warmed his face. He pulled out the flask ignoring the shaking in his hands, god when was the last time that he ate? Not like he could remember really but it had to be yesterday, he was pretty sure, everything was becoming a haze again. A haze, he thought, bringing the flask to his lips, just like last time, back when life was simpler.

He just wanted to leave, they all were going to tell him what to do anyway. All he had to do was show up on time, do as they said, and then act like some hero when they gained a little more ground in this war. Clock in, clock out, just like being a deputy. Done it many times over, now though, the last few missions….it all felt different. Different because what if she was there. Chance didn’t ever want to see her again, it shouldn’t matter so much to worry about something like that, but he did worry. He’d seen her face everywhere in the weeks since their last encounter, from the pictures, the billboards, and the hallucinations that never seemed to leave him now. His eyes strayed to his left, catching sight of that light brown hair of hers dressed in that white dress, the purple converse on her feet this time, other days she was wearing his old leather jacket. His heart raced seeing her stand there, smile on her face, hand outstretched to him. How it pulled in his chest to run to her, pull her lips to his, hold her close, be back in his bedroom where nothing else existed just the two of them. That feeling….that’s what made this different.

He’d hesitate.

Even with his heart still in pieces since they last spoke to each other, he couldn’t bring himself to hate her, let alone harm her. Sure, he could just shoot her in a place where she could heal easily, that wouldn’t make it better for him though. God forbid someone else take that choice away from him, these people wouldn’t hesitate in harming her….killing her. He couldn’t stand to lose another person, not someone that he loved. Especially the way he loved her. He shouldn’t love her, he’d broken up with her right? It had to be….she never even gave him a radio call on either frequency they used. It had only been two weeks, but that wasn’t stopping Chance from feeling like it was longer than that. At least the days were starting to blur again. That was a good sign, he was one step closer to being able to get a grip on his life again.

Chance had finished half the flask feeling himself to be more calm and steadier, the vision of Faith gone from him, making his way back inside the building. He pulled out a half filled bag of Funyuns from his backpack, the better way to hide the scent of the alcohol on his breath in his experience, and considering the still shaking hands he should eat a little something at this point. Walking back into the room, Chance noticed Whitehorse standing with Kim, Sharky having left to some other part of the building, the two talking in hushed voices. Chance took his seat opening the bag, the rustling louder than it normally would have been, leaning back in the chair, his feet back up on the desk. He was far from quiet about his re-entrance, Chance finding it odd that the two didn’t look up, and neither took to looking down at the map.

“I just want you to try and talk to him,” Kim hissed, gesturing to Chance, the hair on his neck prickling, “Please, maybe you can get through to him.”

Chance rolled his eyes, “I’m right here you know!” He swallowed, jaw clenching as their gazes turned to him slowly, “You got something to say about me, might as well say it to my face.”

“Fine,” Kim straightened up, hands on her hips, “You’re not acting like the leader you need to be.”

“Oh how tragic,” Chance said sarcastically, “Time to find some new leader to take over I guess.” He tossed a chip into his mouth, “Why don’t you play leader Kim? You seem to know how to boss people around, I mean just look at Nick.”

“Chance,” Earl warned, “Just listen to her.” Chance narrowed his eyes, Whitehorse pulling off his hat, rubbing the back of his neck, “Look we’re worried about ya, haven’t seemed like yourself recently.”

“Is that what this is about?” Chance laughed, “Not like I’ve really been able to be myself since you agreed to take Joseph into custody.”

He smoothed his greying hair putting the hat back on, “Now you know if it were up to me we would have gone about this a different way.”

“Oh,” Chance looked at him in disbelief, sitting with his back straight in the chair, “Were you just going to walk away….again?” Chance held the old man’s gaze, Kim looking between the two of them, Whitehorse staying quiet. “That’s what I thought,” Chance said after a while, waving his hand, “So just make this plan so I can go home already.” So I can go and forget about this whole day.

“We want your opinion on this plan, Chance,” Kim argued, taking a step towards him, “What’s the point in making a plan if you don’t have a say in it? You have to care about it to some extent.”

He laughed, the emptiness of it reverberating, “You want to know why I don’t speak? Because when I have put in opinions, they were shot down in favor of something else. So you tell me why I should bother?” Chance looked at her waiting for an answer, stopping her when she started to open her mouth, “Yeah exactly, that’s what I thought. So just stop treating me like some leader and more like another soldier,” Chance leaned back in the chair, “besides it's better if we’re all on equal ground isn’t it?”

“Chance that’s not the point and you know it,” Kim tried again, “You’ve become the face, chosen to lead everyone, so it’s time to grow up and start acting like one.”

Chance stood taking a few steps towards her, “Excuse me. I am being an adult by letting you all know that I can’t do this alone.” Chance placed a hand on his chest, leaning down to meet her eyes, “I wasn’t bred to be some leader.”

“No one’s been asking you to do this on your own,” Kim stood straighter, meeting his eyes.

“Oh really? Then why is it that no one else seems to really be taking the reins on some of these plans? Why is it me that has to take down the bigger outposts? That I’m the one getting captured and risking my life so you guys can still have some fabled leader.”

“You’re not fabled, Chance,” Earl said, stepping between the two, “The people of this place have chosen you to rally behind. You represent something they all believe in.”

He reached a hand out to put on Chance’s shoulder, missing as Chance jerked away from him, “I didn’t ask them too! I just saved their asses and when that was done they all dusted their hands deciding that was all that needed to be done, that there was nothing more they could do other than stand on the sidelines hoping that I continue to take care of everything. So don’t give me that bull crap notion that I was chosen!”

“Well whether you like it or not you were,” Kim snapped crossing her arms, “For some reason or another you were chosen.”

“Why?” He threw his hands up jaw clenching, making himself inches from her face, “Because I have nothing to lose? Because I’m the only one here with no family, wife, friends, or any ties to provide a reason as to why I should live if this plan goes to shit? Is that it? A martyr is only as good as their lack of ties compared to those they lead.”

“No one’s saying that Chance,” Whitehorse tried again, placing himself between the two of them, “We- well you need to be taking this a bit more seriously.”

“I need to-,” Chance huffed looking up to Earl, laughing, “Don’t make me laugh old man. Take it seriously,” he snorted, rolling his eyes, pointing to the man he once thought was his mentor, “You should have taken it seriously a year ago. If you had, none of us would be where we are right now.”

“Chance, you know there wasn’t much that could have been done then,” Kim looked between the men brow furrowed.

“There was!” Chance turned to pace, “We both saw her, saw how she pleaded with her eyes for us to help her. Hell! You asked her where she was from and you still chose to accept her bullshit answer.”

“We weren’t there to save her,” Whitehorse shook his head, “My hands were tied.”

“Were they tied when that poster came through the office?” Chance crossed his arms, “Or did you want to blame Nancy for that too?”

“Do you not think that I regret not taking more action back then?” Earl said, his jaw setting, “I know now what could have been done, but there’s nothing we can do about it now. We have to focus on the here and now.”

Chance shook his head, “Nothing is ever your fault,” he snorted turning to grab his coat and bag, “You didn’t take it seriously back then so I don’t see why I should do the same now.”

“Times are different now, Chance,” Kim said, her eyes a little softer than he last looked at them, “We have no choice now. We have to all live with the consequences of our inaction.”

I didn’t have any inactions, Chance threw his bag and jacket over his shoulder, I actually tried to do something. “Yeah, you do,” he said cooly, “So let me know when those consequences are done playing out for you all. I’m done.” He started to walk to the door, Kim’s hand gently grabbing onto him, Chance faced her wide eyes, whispering his name. Chance ground his teeth, shaking his head, “No, don’t. Don’t look at me like that,” he wretched his hand from her grip, “I didn’t ask to be the savior in their prophecy.” Chance leaned his face down, inches from hers, “And I certainly didn’t ask to be your savior.” Her nose wrinkled, Chance turning on his heel to the door, slamming it closed behind him.

The two watched him leave, rooted, both swallowing back the urge to go after him right away. Kim turned to face Earl, giving a slow nod, “He’s started to drink again hasn’t he?”

The old man exhaled slowly, “Looks like,” he shook his head, “Give him a little time to cool off, then I’ll go and talk to him. Maybe get him to listen to some sense.”

Kim took a seat at the map, “You sure it should be you going to talk to him?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Earl let out a low groan as he took a seat across from her, “I’ve talked that kid back to sobriety before. I can do it again.”

“It's just-,” Kim paused, she clasped her hands in front of her gathering her thoughts, “He just seemed real upset about whatever you two saw last year.”

“I don’t blame him. Hindsight is always twenty twenty.”

“What happened?”

Earl leaned his elbows on the table, “You remember Mary Seed?”

“I think so,” she pursed her lips, “John’s wife right?”

He nodded, “Yep, that’s the one,” Earl sighed, “We were called out day of their wedding, for a noise complaint. Chance didn’t want to go, hated coming here, but he stood with me as we walked out onto the middle of that dance floor. I didn’t recognize her as a local and there hadn’t been too much talk of people coming from far away to join Eden’s Gate, so I asked her where she was from.”

“Did John or Joseph answer for her?”

“No, she did. Said she was from California, but there was a hesitation to it. As if she started saying the wrong line and trying to correct it halfway through,” Earl looked down to the map, head shaking, “She was real fearful it looked like too, and Chance swears up and down that she seemed to be looking at us with some hope, willing us to see past her appearance. There wasn’t anything I could do though. By all accounts of the law I couldn’t just take her in. So we told them to keep it down and left.”

Kim nodded sadly, “Then by the time the missing poster came she was already dead and gone,” Kim reached to place her hand over the sheriff’s hand, “There wasn’t anything you could have done.”

“Thing is though,” Earl started up again, “that poster came about a month or two before her death.” Kim leaned back, balking, “I didn’t do much because by then they were getting too strong, there was too much risk. You heard about how much worse John was getting at that time. All the people that went missing, even their own people turning up dead.”

“So you left her there,” Kim wiped at her eyes, “You let her die.”

“Kim,” she sniffed, eyes narrowing, “the arrest warrant wasn’t for murder,” her eyes went wide, “We were arresting Joseph on the suspicion of kidnapping.”

“So….,” Kim looked past Earl, pieces coming together, “She never died. She lived?”

“She’s alive,” he took his glasses off rubbing his eyes, “but she denies anything happened. Denies that she was ever forced to marry. Her friends, the ones that helped get her out, paint a different tale. The hope was that if we got him into custody then….well maybe she would talk. She’d feel safer to do so, make sure that family would be put away for life with their crimes.” He sighed, putting himself back together, “Well you know the rest.” He let out a low breath, “Trust me, Kim, not a day goes by that I don’t wish I could have done something more when I had the chance.”

Kim nodded, “We all had chances to do something and we all chose not too,” their eyes met, “Guess looking back now, Nick and I could have done something, we met her once. She tried to warn us about them taking the plane, but we let our prejudice of them stop from seeing that she really wasn’t one of them.” Her shoulders slumped, “But it’s like you said, there’s nothing we can do to change the past. We just have to focus on fixing the here and now.”

“Done. I’m done with them,” Chance muttered to himself slamming the door, framed pictures shaking, “I don’t need them and they sure as hell don’t need me.” He threw down his bag stalking to the kitchen, twisting the top of the first bottle he laid a hand on, “Take it seriously,” he scoffed, “I’m not some stupid prophecy. Shit like that doesn’t even exist.”

“Doesn’t it though?” Chance paused, eyes locking onto Faith as she stood in the middle of his living room looking the same as before, “So far things are lining up as he said,” she glided around the sofa, fingers trailing along the edge of it.

“What he predicted some no good twenty-five year old to come and try to arrest him,” he rolled his eyes, leaning against the counter, “Real or not real?”

“Ask Benjamin about the veiled park,” Maybe we need to find a new method. I don’t think I tell anymore, “Besides,” she shrugged, “does that really matter anymore?”

He crossed his arms after taking another long drink, “Yeah it does still. For all I know I just let a wild animal into my house. Or someone else that I don’t want to see.”

“Hmm, that is a fair point, but no,” she hopped on the back of the sofa with ease, her ankles crossed as she looked him over with those piercing blue-green eyes, “it’s just little old me.”

“You said what Joseph predicted was coming true,” he bit the inside of his lip, “How can you know that for sure?”

She tilted her head, laughing delicately, “We just do,” Hallucination, had to be, “He said someone would come with old Earl and set off the chain of events you see before you. There would be trials.”

“Like the one Jacob makes?”

“Nope. Trials testing your wits, strengths, and compassion,” she gave him a smile, he just wanted her here with him, “So far you’ve passed them all. Joseph said that now that’s passed you are going to make a choice.”

“I’m not going to join,” Chance grumbled, it was the only choice he was ever given.

“I wouldn’t be too sure of that,” she taunted, her legs swinging out, “The Father says one day you will come to us and Anticlea will speak to you when you’re at your lowest.”

“Pretty sure I’m already there, so what the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

She jumped down making her way toward him, “You’re not at your lowest yet. And I am just a messenger.”

“My own personal Hermes?” Her eyes widened briefly, Chance shrugging, “I’m no idiot and I listened to you repeat that story again and again when we were kids.”

“Then you know what happens next right?”

“I’ve yet to face a one eyed man.”

“Don’t sell this place short,” she giggled, Chance’s heart increasing in speed with each slow step towards him, “Nothing said this story had to go in order.”

“You’re implying a hero’s journey, though.”

“Who isn’t on a hero’s journey in life?” Faith taunted.

Chance’s eyes narrowed, “You’re just a trial aren’t you?”

“Do you see me as one?”

“People call you a siren for a reason.”

She smirked, inches from him, “So you do believe yourself to be Odysseus?”

“If I did I have to survive your song right?” She stayed silent, face unmoving, “Probably already failing that part of the story.”

“I’m irresistible to you?” She gave a slow turn, his eyes unable to leave her.

“No,” I’m just feeling lonely and heartbroken.

Her fingers walked up his chest, his breath hitching, “Hmm. So tell me,” she looked up through her lashes, eyes meeting his, feeling himself start to harden, “Where do you think I stand in this story?” How did it all feel so real, there was no way that she was here, but he could still feel the way her fingertips left marks on his skin.

“I don’t have to answer you Princess,” he glanced down at the bottle finding it half empty already, When did that happen?, “You’re not real and neither is this conversation.”

Her hand reached up, caressing his cheek, Chance stiffened, “You’re right,” her free hand moved under the hem of his shirt, “For all you know you’re in a ditch somewhere bleeding out.” Her hand came out of his shirt dripping red, “Or you’re floating in the river just waiting for death to take hold,” it didn’t even phase Chance when he felt his clothes become wet, hearing the water drip to the ground, as he watched her move. “You have so little care for your life my White Knight,” she leaned up kissing his lips softly, “Does it matter if this is real or not in the end.”

Chance could see the edges of his vision blur, her form the only thing clear, “I’d rather her be here with me,” he whispered softly.

“I’m here with you now,” she pressed herself closer to him, his hands wanting to pull her to him, run along her smooth skin, the bottle now empty, I drank that already? Did I take swigs as we talked?, “and according to your body,” she slid a hand over his crotch, Chance letting out a low groan, “it doesn’t matter if I’m real or not.” Chance swallowed, she was right, after that first trip into the bliss he couldn’t ever tell if it was really Faith or not, but that didn’t stop him from sleeping with her anyway. She assured him that most of the times they had sex he wondered about she was with him, especially when they were in public, the others bliss induced dreams. Her lips were soft as they kissed down his neck, “Tell me Chance,” she nipped lightly at his neck, “are you ready to make that descent with me?”

The last bit of rational thinking was muted as it screamed at him to stop, think this through. He didn’t need to though. He made his choice. He was done being the hero, done with trials and expectations, he didn’t need anyone else. So long as he had himself, he could go back to the way things were. There had to be people here that wanted to just have a good time still, even with the world ending, and he’d find them. All he had to do was reach out and touch her. That’s all. Chance looked down to the filled bottle, it looked to be whiskey this time, before setting it aside on the counter, feeling her fingers run up and down his torso. His hand hesitated as they reached out to her, she felt so real, the lightest touch could have her vanishing from him and he’d be alone again. He felt his fingertips lightly brush along her cheek bone, Faith still present and smiling. The tension in his shoulders melted as he pulled her to him, one hand behind her neck tilting her lips to his, the other on her hip, his lips crashing into hers.

She moaned, responding to his touch, her hands pulling him towards his bedroom, “You asked me who I thought you were,” Chance whispered against her lips, “You’re Circe, you have to be, all your talk of telling me where to go next and warnings,” he held her against the wall next to his bedroom door, “Even if this story is over, that’s who are, to me Rachel,” he ran a hand up her bare thigh noticing the way she trembled, “Besides, I always did like her more.”

She smiled, “You’re wrong,” her voice echoed as she pushed him down on the bed, straddling him….

“We’re Calypso.”

#a chance for faith #x: emo flower child #little game of can you spot the other canon in here

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takadasaiko · 4 years ago

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Growth and Comfort Do Not Coexist (a Veronica Mars oneshot)

FFN II AO3

Summary: When Logan and his Navy buddy get volunteered for the Career Day fair at Neptune High on the same day that Veronica is hired by Principal Clemmons for a case, Logan's two worlds cross with some soul-searching results.

Notes: When I started this series the plan was to keep it as a pretty strict extension of canon, but after going through S4 again I feel like it's more accurate to say that it's a very subtle AU with most of canon intact. Most of the time, you may not even be able to tell, while others I'm going to splinter off a bit more. This is one of those times. I haven't finished the novels yet, but I understand that Logan provides a bit of backstory on how he joined the Navy in the second one. At least in spirit it lined up pretty closely with the head canon I was already getting attached to, so I decided to keep the head canon for this series. I'll try to let you know in any future fics as well if it splits for information I know was provided.

Growth and Comfort Do Not Coexist

One of the countless ironies in his life was that it had been his father that had started him on his love of quoting others to find his own way. It made sense, even if he hated it. An actor regurgitating others' words in his own voice and making a mint of people for doing so, but Logan hadn't stopped with movies. He watched everything, read more than admitted to in his younger years, and stored every word, every syllable that he could away in the library of his mind to work into his own vocabulary. He'd honed a quick wit and sharpened his tongue to a razor's edge of protection over the years. It hadn't defended him at home, but it left him ready to take on anyone outside of those walls willing to come at him. Anger had fueled him and made him deadly to the point that he'd driven off nearly everyone that was willing to challenge him for whatever reason.

Almost everyone, and those rare few that had remained had been his saving grace. All these years later he could acknowledge that. Duncan Kane who had been willing to walk off when he'd crossed that line into total jackassery, Dick Casablancas who had done what he could - if he even knew he was doing it or not - by harassing him out of the deep funks he fell in, and that shining beacon of light named Veronica Mars that had reminded him of his own mortality while simultaneously easing the sting of the wounds inflicted by his life. It hadn't always been easy, especially with Veronica. Aaron may have led him to a love of words, but as Logan closed the door to his convertible - tucked in a line of clunkers and high-end cars that made up the Neptune High parking lot - he knew that he never would have made it this far on words alone. He had always craved support. Needed it. And even after Veronica had left, fleeing the black hole that Neptune felt like at times, he'd found it.

He just wondered what kind of quote he could rattle off that could somehow find peace between his then and his now as he stood looking onto the high school that he'd graduated from, the life that he'd left so far behind in so many ways, but he was drawing a blank. No, this was what it was, and really he couldn't even trace it back to a place where he could remember agreeing to this potential powder keg of a day. The order had come down and he'd said yes sir like a good soldier.

"The rest of the squad and I have a bet going on just how much trouble you got into back in the day."

Logan turned to look at Dave Riley, one of the very few people on the planet that he would be willing to die for. He straightened, showing himself to be a good three or four inches shorter than Logan and skinny as hell. His strawberry-blond hair and green eyes that were too big for his freckled face gave him an air of innocence that Logan knew he used to his advantage. That Midwest drawl did it too. People always underestimate him, but Riley had scored even higher than Logan had on the ASTB-E - Aviation Standard Test Battery - which was saying something. He wouldn't have had anyone else watch his back in the air. Thankfully the Navy had agreed when they assigned Riley as his Weapons System Officer.

"Yeah? You really think it's a fair bet for you to weigh in on?"

Riley shrugged and flashed a wide grin that would have put anyone else at ease. Logan knew better. The more innocent he looked, the more shit Riley was likely to pull. "I'm just here to be the honest voice to deliver back anything I learn."

Logan snorted. "Uh-huh."

"Trust issues. You've got them, my friend."

"I've just known you too long."

"Maybe, but you do trust me."

"Doesn't mean anybody else should."

"Maybe I just want to see pre-bottom-of-the-barrel Echolls. They all saw you after you enlisted, but me? I saw you before and it was not a pretty picture."

Logan snorted, the corners of his lips quirking up as he caught Riley out of the corner of his eye. "Weird. See, I thought you were into me, because I kept telling you to fuck off and you kept coming back."

"You wish," Riley chuckled and shrugged. "Seriously though, what was I supposed to do? No telling what you would have done if I'd just left you there by yourself."

"Flunk out and drink myself to death?"

"Yeah, probably."

Logan finally turned to meet those amused, green eyes and his smirk eased out a little. "Rather have you at my back than anyone else."

"Better believe it, brother," Riley answered and reached up, ready for Logan to tap the back of his hand off of his in an old ritual. "You ready to go talk up the Navy to a bunch of teenagers that remind you of yourself?"

"'Originals cost more than imitations.' Suzy Kassem.'"

Riley snorted. "Yeah, yeah, I know. You're one of a kind," he chuckled as they started towards the building.

Logan flashed him a broad grin as his gaze swept the parking lot that they were walking through, finally falling on a familiar blue Hyundai that didn't belong there. Or maybe it did. Maybe a student there just had the exact same make and model of car that his girlfriend had. Coincidences happened. Sometimes. In theory, at least.

"Remind me again how we got roped into this?" Riley asked, drawing his attention back around.

"Pretty sure Wallace - Veronica's friend - put in the specific request. He's a teacher here."

"And here I am. Dragged in because of you," Riley sighed dramatically and Logan popped his fist against his shoulder, receiving a shit-eating grin and response dripping with false cheer in return. "And I wouldn't want to be anywhere else!"

"Logan!"

"Speak of the Physics teacher and he appears. Like magic," the man in question muttered, receiving a muffled laugh from his cohort as Wallace Fennel broke into a light jog towards them. "I hear we have you to thank for this," Logan directed at Wallace.

"I just put your name into a hat. No clue what had to happen to get a couple of aviators in."

Logan opened his mouth to take advantage of the oh-too-easy joke that Wallace had left open for him when Riley cut him off. "Technically, he's the aviator. I'm the Wizzo." Okay. So maybe he brought some of his Midwest propriety with him. There was a first time for everything.

"The what?" Wallace asked, tilting his head a little to the side in question.

"Weapons System Officer," Riley clarified. "WSO. Wizzo."

"Because we're in the Navy and we nickname everything," Logan popped off and tilted his head towards the man standing on his right. "Lt. Dave Riley. He literally watches my back."

"I shoot the assholes, Echolls makes sure we don't get shot by out-flying them," Riley added.

"So you're Goose?" Wallace asked.

"Yeah… just with less death."

"What do you need us to do, Wallace?" Logan asked, watching students filing in towards their first classes of the day.

"Are you going to hate me if I tell you that I didn't warn Clemmons it was you?"

"Pretty sure if you had he would have shut it down."

Riley straightened, interest piqued again. "And exactly why would this Clemmons fellow hate you?" It took less that two seconds for Riley to turn that inquisitive look on Wallace and, while Logan knew the man had to be able to keep up with Veronica in order to stay in her life as long as he had, it would have been nice to think that he didn't have to worry about fielding questions all day. There was a reason he didn't intentionally connection his life with the Navy to his life in Neptune with the exception of Veronica. Ah well. No turning back now. Good thing he was well versed in pretending things didn't phase him.

"I got some dirt," Wallace offered.

"And here I thought you came along to have my back," Logan grumbled, his glare sliding towards Riley.

"Always, man, but the rest of the squad is relying on me."

"Yeah, when'd you get promoted?"

"Even the squad leader has to own up," Riley teased, nudging Logan's shoulder as he strode forward. "Whatcha got for me. Wallace, was it?"

Logan did not like the look Wallace wore as he said, "How 'bout a trade? I'll tell you about the time Logan and one of the other guys from our class put the lit teacher's car on the flag pole -"

Riley's grin only broadened. "On?"

"On," Wallace confirmed, "if you tell us his call sign. Man will notshare. Can't be that bad, right?"

Logan snorted and started back towards the buildings, hearing a far-too-amused Riley agree to the terms and Wallace's story began. This was going to be a trip.

---------

Some days being a PI was exciting. An unexpected client dropped into the office with an interesting story, lots of holes in it that they didn't think you could possibly discover, and a whole puzzle to solve. And then other days it was your old high school principal who showed up with the Case of the Missing Lockbox. What was in the lockbox, she had no idea, just that it was connected to Career Day - she had zero recollection of having a career day at Neptune High. Wow. - and that it mustbe found.

And it was. Almost before Clemmons had finished rattling off his explanation of just how important it was. There was something in that someone needed and he needed…. Really, she'd lost track. Whatever the reason he wanted it, she found it hidden under a loose floorboard in the gym. The rest was history as soon as he'd signed and handed her the check. As soon as she found where Mac had gotten off to, she had no interest in sticking around.

At least until she spotted a very familiar figure standing at the Navy booth talking to an excitable teen about the F/A-18 Hornets that he flew.

Veronica felt her lips turn up at the corners without permission as she inched forward, waiting behind him until the kid was gone. "Take me to bed or risk losing me forever," she whispered just loud enough for him to hear.

Logan turned, cringing as he did. "I swear, if I never hear another Top Gun reference today…."

"You can live a long and happy life?" she offered.

"Exactly. What are you doing here? I thought I spotted your car."

Veronica leaned against the booth, never breaking eye contact. "Oh, you know, solving cases. Stopping crime. Paying the rent." She waved the check in her hand in front of him.

"One of the kids steal something from Clemmons?"

"You know they did, but I fixed it." He snorted a laugh and Veronica cracked a full grin. "Wallace rope you into this?"

"He did. I'm a good friend. Please feel free to remind him of that at any and every possible moment."

She felt her playful smile soften a little, but a voice broke in from the other end of the booth. "Hey, V!" Riley called, offering a wave when she looked over.

"Look at you standing on two legs," Veronica returned and motioned at the potential recruits. "Ask him how he broke his leg a few months ago. Go ahead. Ask him."

"You're not helping," her boyfriend grumbled with feigned irritation.

Veronica turned back to look at him. "So you and Wallace are friends now?" she asked, circling back around to their conversation. "I like the sound of that."

"I like Wallace. I may have even won him over with this one. It's Mac I'm hesitant about. What'd I do to her?"

Veronica cringed a little. "I think it was Parker."

"Seriously? She knows Parker broke up with me, right?"

"There was something about me involved, I don't know. She's around here somewhere bolstering the campus security. You'd have to ask her."

"I think I'll leave it as one of life's many mysteries."

She laughed, inching in. Hell, she did love him in those Navy whites. Her hand reached forward of its own accord, fingers touching the fabric there and ready to curl into it to pull him closer to her, but he caught it before she could. "I'm technically on duty."

"You're technically on duty when you get home from deployment and haul me off the deck to kiss me," she reminded him, her voice low and he'd have to be an idiot to miss her meaning. Logan Echolls was a lot of things, but an idiot wasn't one of them.

"They give me some leeway there. Not so much when I'm telling kids why they should enlist."

"You telling them to get shot at for a living?"

"Hey, now. Technically I have never gotten shot."

"And you've jinxed yourself."

"It's really not as likely if they're on the ship," he answered, his smirk more cocky than she would have liked. She knew all too well that they had come under fire.

"You're not funny."

"Seriously? I hear you find me hilarious."

Veronica held his gaze, those perfectly thin lips of his stretched out into a smile that made her want to drag him back to some secluded corner right then and there, but she knew she couldn't. He couldn't. Or wouldn't. For all of Logan's flippancy towards authority in their youth, he'd found something sacred in the Navy. She wasn't sure if it was the authority, per se, or something deeper that was just reflected there. He'd grown up alone in many ways, even before his parents had died, and certainly without the usual limitations that most children received. He had never told her the full story of how he'd tumbled into the Navy of all things, but her working theory was that it had something to do with the structure and direction that it provided.

Whatever the case, he loved it. His job, his squad, every inch of it. He didn't just love it, he respected it, and for that reason he would respect the fact that he was there to represent it. Oh, if only sixteen-year-old Logan could see himself now. What would he say?

"Get your mind out of the gutter, Mars," he teased, drawing her attention around.

"There was nothing to say that it was inthe gutter, Echolls," she countered, grinning up at him.

"You need a mirror? All the evidence you'll need for - what do you call it? - a money shot."

Her grin grew as her voice dipped. "Usually fewer clothes for that."

"Give me a couple hours," he promised.

Veronica loosed a laugh out on a breath and leaned against the booth, her gaze drifting out to the crowd of kids. They looked like them years before in so many ways. In others, nothing at all. For the first time in a long time she found herself desperate to see the ghost of Lilly Kane dancing through the throngs of students, laughing and teasing and alive. She'd missed so much.

"So, your buddy Wallace told me about the car on the flagpole incident," Riley's chipper voice pulled her out of her thoughts, "but even as spectacular as that is, it couldn't possibly warrant that look."

Veronica followed where he was pointing to see a very nervous looking Van Clemmons standing with Wallace, the principal's gaze fixed on Logan who was chatting with a student.

"Oh, you know, started a few fights, kept getting charged with murders he didn't commit."

"There was more than one?"

"Well, only one in high school," she answered with a shrug. "Looks like you boys may get let go early. Hiya, Mr C."

The principal looked over on his way to the booth, startled and he mumbled something about a dangerous pair. Veronica snorted a laugh and looked back at Riley. "So how do you like the old stomping grounds?"

"It's an experience. Never thought I'd see kids driving Teslas and Beamers nicer than Logan's to class."

She liked Riley, but she didn't often get time alone with him. She wasn't sure if Logan intentionally kept his Navy and his Neptune life a little bit separate, but she did know that as soon as Clemmons could pry his students away long enough from the Navy table he would politely thank the guys for their time and send them on their way. If she wanted to pick Riley's brain at all, now was a chance she hadn't expected. "You guys met sophomore year, right?"

"Yeah. After you left." His gaze slid over to her. "You fishing for intel, Veronica?"

"Just curious. Tell me you didn't sign on to get a few new stories on him."

"Where Echolls goes, I go," Riley answered with a shrug, but as Veronica waited a little of the mirth washed off. He turned to meet her gaze fully. "A few fun anecdotes are one thing, but this? It changed his life. That's his story to tell, V."

She nodded slowly, turning back to find a missing Logan and Mac having appeared at some point, now patiently waiting with Wallace. Wallace started forward. "Hey, Veronica. Didn't know you were going to be here today."

"Missing something or the other," she answered offhandedly. "Where'd Logan go?"

"Not sure. Fair's wrapping up so the kids can get back to class. Clemmons let you guys go early." Wallace extended a hand. "Lt Riley—"

"Just Riley's good, after the stories I got from you." He happily shook the offered hand, his grin returning. "So if Echolls wandered off, who's the lucky volunteer to drive me back to my car at his place? Unless you have extra keys to the Beamer, V. I'd be willing to slum it."

"But would you be willing to stake your life on it if you wrecked Logan's car?"

"Fair."

"We can take you," Mac offered. "If you're parked at their place it's not too far out of the way."

Veronica shot her a questioning look before filing she dug in her purse for her keys and tossed them at Mac. "You two kids be good. I'll grab a ride home with Logan."

She watched Riley turn a funny sort of smile on Mac who fell into step with him towards the parking lot. She would have to file that away in things to figure out later. For now, she had a Logan to track down.

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

Veronica had been busy chatting with Riley when Clemmons gave them the all clear to head out - not a huge surprise and probably the reason Wallace had tried to keep quiet who he'd managed to snag out of the aviation department to come in - and he just needed a couple of minutes to work through the thoughts that he'd shoved down below the surface since arriving on the campus. The students had been called back into their classes and had left the halls deserted, Logan standing alone on the school crest with one hand stuffed deeply into his trouser pockets, the other holding onto his uniform cap.

He hadn't been here since graduation, not that many people made an effort at returning to their high schools, but Logan had made even less so. Hell, he wouldn't have bothered with his ten year reunion if Sean Freidrich hadn't released those videos of Carrie to his instagram account. He didn't have a lot of positive memories associated with it. Sure, early on he'd been popular enough. Money tended to do that in Neptune, as did prestigious parents. Logan had had both. Funny, he'd still had to face most of the battles that had rolled in alone. Especially the ones that counted for anything.

"Hey handsome," a familiar voice chimed behind him and he felt Veronica's hands touch the small of his back lightly as she circled around, her smile flirty and light. "Deep in thought about all the scandalous things that happened here?"

"Yep. I'm pretty sure we made out in that corner. That one too. Oh, and there's the infamous women's bathroom that you kept dragging me into."

"You liked it."

"I did."

Veronica circled around him and he couldn't help but feel his smile turned a little more real. Well, one good thing had come out of it all. Her.

"What are you really thinking about?" she asked, her tone a little less teasing now and damn her. She did see right through him, didn't she?

Logan felt his smile even out, the weight of his thoughts settling back into place from their momentary relief. He let the feelings roll around in his mind for a long moment until they got enough traction to form something like words. Another moment or two and they even started to make at least a fraction of sense. "I've been trying to reconcile who I was with who I am," he said slowly, tasting each word as it left his tongue to make sure it was the right one that best coincided with the emotions that had bubbled up like a geisser ready to shoot towards the sky.

Veronica was uncharacteristically silent as she settled in next to him, both standing on the emblem in the middle of the hall and looking down the long stretch.

"I did a lot of things I'm not proud of. It's easy to say I was young and stupid, but I think…. It used to be easier to keep it all separated. Even living here, when I dated Carrie…. It was different. She had no interest in the Navy. The two worlds were completely separate. Riles only met her maybe… two or three times."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah. It was awkward and forced. In the end it was just easier to live two lives, but since you came back it's been… complicated."

He could feel her tense at his side and he risked a look. Well that wasn't a happy look. More of a hurt-desperately-shoved-under-irritation look. "Sorry I complicated things," she groused and Logan scrambled.

"That's not what I mean. I mean, it is, but not like that." He pulled in a breath, trying to find a way to express it in a way that she might be able to understand. "I mean I want Riles to know you. I want you to know him. I want to be friends with your friends and vice versa until they're ours. I just… don't know how to do that without opening myself up for a hell of a lot of shit toted out for everyone to see."

There was another moment of silence from her and Logan shifted from one foot to another, feeling exposed. Finally, he heard her draw in a breath. "'Growth and comfort do not coexist.'"

Logan blinked hard. "Ginny Rometty," he cited, surprise lacing the name.

"I guess? You had it as your voicemail one time. One of your inspirational quotes." Her careful smile flooded him with a sense of warmth. "Seemed to fit."

"Yeah," he breathed.

"I get it," Veronica murmured, looking back down the hall. "When I went to Stanford, I cut ties with everything. I didn't want the two worlds colliding. I never dated anyone for long enough for him to feel like he should meet my dad or anything. To come home. Even with Piz who knew so much of it. I just… kept it separate."

"Why?"

"Because I didn't think I wanted to be that person."

"I love that person."

A small smile tugged her lips out and she reached for the hand still stuffed in his pocket. "Can I ask you something?"

Funny, that question would have terrified him a decade ago, but he heard his response roll off his own tongue without reservation. "Anything."

"Why'd you choose the Navy? I'm glad you did. I've seen…. What it gave you. What it did for you. I just wanna know how you got there."

Logan pursed his lips and considered the question for a long moment. It wasn't the first time she'd asked and she wasn't the only one curious. Just earlier that day Wallace had tried to press Riley for it. Good man Riley. He'd run his mouth about a lot, but not when it counted, and this did.

And because it counted, he knew Veronica deserved to hear it from him.

"I was okay all summer," he started, feeling a little numb as he spoke. "I thought you'd come back. I thought we'd...do what we did back then. Fall apart, come back, try again."

"I transferred."

"Yeah."

"Without telling you."

"I got the hint," he murmured, trying not to sound too bitter. He tightened his hold on her hand in his. "I never really… learned how to process things, I don't think. Not things that mattered. Hell, my go-to when my mom threw herself off a bridge was to hire my best friend's ex girlfriend to prove she wasn't really dead." A mirthless chuckle left him and he felt her tighten her hold on his hand. "I fell apart. Hit bottom. I was on the edge of flunking out, drinking waytoo much, and then this asshole sat down at my table in the cafeteria and just started babbling on about the design of a jet. Honestly, I was so hungover I couldn't tell you what jet he was talking about. All I remember is telling him to fuck off and he thought it was hilarious."

"Riley," Veronica said softly and Logan nodded.

"Riley. He's a stubborn bastard. He kept on me until somehow we became… friends, I guess? Something close to it. Found out later we'd had a class freshman year. The one Wallace and I had where I lost the bet and went streaking through it?" Veronica snorted a laugh at that. She had rolled her eyes pretty hard at the time. "He saw something, through all the bullshit. I don't know why or how, but he had… faith. Ended up convincing me to join ROTC and it was the first time I think I really found structure in my life. I always thought it'd be exhausting but it was… nice, somehow. Not just some assholes that had no business telling me what to do getting off on it, but these people had my back. I eased off the drinking, got my grades up, and did what I had to to get my wings."

"That's… amazing."

"You hear me say Riley saved my life and sure. In the air, definitely, but before that. He got me in the air."

The bell rang. "I'm glad he did," Veronica said earnestly as the doors started opening all around them and she tipped up on her toes to press the briefest of kisses to his lips before the students started to flood out. "Let's go home."

He nodded, words escaping him in that moment as she took him by the hand and led him towards Neptune High's exit, the chatter following them out.

-----------

It felt like a weight had been lifted off that Logan hadn't even known was there. He had always known what had drawn her into the life she lived, what had driven her to find an outlet for the questions that raged after Lilly's death, but that small, lying voice in his mind had told him that she'd be upset if he explained how he had gotten to where he was. She'd be hurt, thinking that he blamed her for finally scraping rock bottom. Or angry that he had. Whatever the case, it would be his fault and clearly it would drive a wedge between them.

But it didn't. Instead she'd taken it in stride, seeming to be more grateful that Riley had been stubborn enough to help him through it than upset that he'd crashed and burned after she had left. They had both done what they had needed, and they had needed it. As much as they'd loved each other they had been so young and so angry and hurt by the world around them. Jaded and pained in ways they couldn't work through together, not at that point. No, they had had to work on themselves, to find themselves, before they could come back together. And they had. Of course they had. Their story was epic.

Logan pulled the BMW around to park it on the street, brows drawing together at the sight of both Veronica's blue Hyundai and Riley's Mustang. "I thought he'd be halfway back to San Diego."

"Yeah, and I thought my car would be at the office…."

They slipped out of the convertible, finding the steps leading to the apartment empty of waiting guests. Logan heard Veronica's voice and glanced over to see her phone pressed to her ear. "Uh huh. Suuure," she answered with a wide grin. "See you in a sec." She ended the call and motioned towards the beach. "Riley forgot his keys in the apartment and Mac decided to wait with him."

Logan tilted his head and they started the short trek to find his Wizzo and one of Veronica's best friends sitting on a beach towel that must have been in her trunk, deep in conversation. Mac was the first to turn at their approach. "Hi there, Hollywood!" she greeted, her grin quick and mischievous.

And suddenly he knew what the conversation had been about. He locked eyes with Riley whose grin was a bit more sheepish. "Traitor," Logan muttered even as Veronica barked a laugh.

"You finally got it out of him. 'Bout damn time." She turned a clearly fake apologetic look at him. "It's not so bad. You've told me some of the other guys' call signs and they're a lot worse."

"It wouldn't have stuck if he hadn't been such a baby about it early on," Riley chuckled.

"Asshole," Logan huffed without any real spite in his voice.

"Yeah, you love me." Riley stood, brushing off his uniform. "I should head back. Good meeting you, Mac. Loved the story about the scavenger hunt. We should do it again sometime." He glanced back pointedly at Logan. "Cross the streams a little, huh?"

Logan rolled his eyes a little, but he knew the smile inching into place was going to give him away. It was nice to find some weird equilibrium between two pieces of his life. "C'mon. Let's grab your keys."

"Oh, wouldn't you know it?" Riley stuffed his hand deeply into his pocket and returned with his keys. "Oops. There the whole time. See ya next time."

Veronica snorted a laugh as Riley sauntered his way up the beach towards the road. "He's a sneaky little bastard."

"I warned you, " Logan chuckled. "He's been looking for high school stories all day."

"And freshman year of college," Mac offered as she stood, stooping back down to grab the oversized beach towel. "But he does pay well with stories from after you ghosted everyone. How did you stay in ROTC with some of the stuff you pulled?"

Logan flashed her a smug grin and Mac laughed, shaking her head.

"You wanna stay for dinner? We can order Thai," Veronica offered.

"I think we have chicken. I can cook," Logan countered.

"You cook?" Mac asked, the amusement still strong in her eyes. "This I have to see."

"I even know how to wash dishes," Logan countered.

Veronica nodded at the distant figure just reaching the street. "Bet we can grab Riley before he leaves. Swap a few more stories?"

"There's no stopping you now, is there?"

"Flood gates aren't open," she agreed.

"I'll go catch Dave," Mac offered and she was gone before either of them could get a word in.

Logan looked to Veronica, finding those clear and curious blue eyes on him too. "Did she just call him Dave?"

"Pretty sure she did."

"Huh."

They started up the beach towards their friends, Logan risking a glance at the woman he loved out of the corner of his eye and feeling a strange sense of peace washing over him despite what would likely turn into a one-up-manship of stories that evening. Growth and comfort didn't coexist, it was true. It had nearly killed him to find a way to survive everything life has dealt him, He couldn't go back and change the past, and he didn't think he wanted to. Without the struggles he faced, he never would have grown like he had, and that growth had brought him here. It had brought him back to her, and for that he would endure any pain.

-----

Notes:

Hat tip to @his-beautiful-girl_Beautiful_Girl for the Suzy Kassem quote and all of the fantastic folks in the VM Fic Club that were willing to help me find the best quote to use there 3

#Veronica Mars #Logan Echolls #VMFanfic #VeronicaMarsFanfic

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shedreamsofstars · 5 years ago

Text

Cataclysm of the Heart - Chapter 6

She’d waited so long to hear those words fall from his perfect lips. She’d never even stopped to consider that they might not be sincere.

They were going to die. He’d been sure of it. It had only been meant as a comfort. Something to keep a smile on her face as their end loomed.

Neither of them had counted on being rescued.

Start from the beginning | Next Chapter

…xxx…

He let her finish her tea.

He let her hold his hand across the table.

He let her talk about her day.

He let her struggle to hold back the tears.

He let her order another cup.

At each point, he told himself that it was time. That he'd tell Amy the truth before this could go any further. Yet at each point he hesitated. At each point, he told himself … just one more moment. He knew he was just putting off the inevitable, but it didn't matter anymore.

He wanted to give her as much time as he could.

As they both sipped at the final dregs of their second cups of tea, Sonic couldn't delay any further. They would have no excuse to stay soon. It was now or never. He had to come clean.

"Amy, there's uh …" He placed the cup on the saucer, clearing his throat. "There's something that I need to tell you." He spoke slowly. And with every word that left his lips, he slowly unlinked his fingers from hers and let them rest flat on the table.

Amy watched him curiously but made no move to reach for his hand again. She only cocked her head to the side quizzically at his prolonged silence. "What is it Sonic?" she urged, her green eyes suddenly sharp with worry. She knew something was up.

"I uh-" The words caught in his throat, his mouth bone dry. He looked down at his tea cup but it remained just as empty as when he had put it down. Sonic blew out a breath of air, his head dropping into his hands in frustration. How was he supposed to say this without completely ruining everything?

"Sonic," Amy called out softly. Her fingers brushed against his knuckles.

Somehow the light and comforting gesture just made everything worse. He pulled his hand back quickly, as if her very touch had burned him.

He was fully aware of the hurt on her face, but he couldn't do this anymore. Not to her. He couldn't pretend, couldn't lead her on, couldn't do any of it. All the hand holding, the touches, the kisses from the last two days, they weren't real.

He was a liar.

He had to tell her the truth.

He didn't love her. He didn't want her like she wanted him. None of this was real.

And so, with those very words on his tongue, Sonic broke her heart.

...xxx...

"For the fifth time Sonic," Amy sighed. "We've already tried that."

"Just once more Amy. Please."

The pink hedgehog rolled her eyes but followed along anyway, her hammer materialising in her hands as she hopped up onto Sonic's interlocked hands. He threw her upwards and Amy whacked her weapon at the top of the cage before falling to the ground.

Just like their other attempts, Sonic caught her in his arms - he never let her hit the ground unless he was lowering her himself - and just like all the other times, they didn't even make a scratch in the glass.

"Satisfied?" Amy asked, confirming the fact by glancing upwards.

"No," Sonic grumbled, falling backwards into the wall behind him. "If we don't get out of here soon, we're dooming all of Mobius."

"No pressure, then," Amy retorted humourlessly.

"Right," he said, spinning and banging a fist tentatively against the glass wall as if he was testing it for something. "You know, about before," Sonic said, switching the topics faster than she had a chance to stop him. "I'm sorry I got angry at you. I didn't mean to but …"

"But you just had to say something. I get it."

Her hammer disappeared.

"You do."

"Yes, Sonic. Not all of us spend our time running from our emotions, some of us actually feel them."

Sonic fell quiet, and Amy wondered if perhaps she had said the wrong thing. She knew that their main focus should have been getting out of the cage, but Sonic's words from earlier kept circling in her mind.

I hate myself for what I did Amy.

She wanted to refute them. To call them lies and move on, but there was no way she could deny the truth of the pain in his voice, the hurt in his eyes. It was more than just a deep dwelling guilt. It was a torture.

How had they ended up like this? Hurting each other without ever trying.

"Listen, let's just put everything behind us for now. Stopping Eggman is our first priority and I want you to know that I'm behind you one hundred percent. We will stop him. And once we have, then we can sit down and talk this out," she said, gesturing between the pair of them.

Sonic looked like he'd argue to settle things right there and then from the way he worked his jaw, but he only dipped his head once in agreement. "Alright."

She was glad he wasn't putting up more of a fight, but then again, the world was at stake and he was Sonic the Hedgehog. Saving the world, saving people - saving her feelings - all of these things were second nature to him. He knew what was on the line, and he knew what he could or couldn't risk.

A strange buzzing noise bounced off the walls and Amy turned towards the source. Sonic stood quizzically staring at his own wrist comm, sparing her a single look before hitting the answer button.

"Uh … hello?"

"Sonic! Is that really you?" Tails' voice bounced off the walls in the small cage.

"Who else would it be? I thought this thing was broken…"

"I've been boosting the signal and trying to reach you for hours but you've been off the grid, I couldn't even find your location. Actually, I still can't … where are you?"

"With Eggman and his cannon. We don't actually know where," he said, glancing around him again as if the answer would be written on the walls.

"We? Who's with you? Is it Knuckles?"

"No, it's Amy," he said, lifting his wrist towards her.

"Hey Tails."

"Hi Amy. Look guys, if you're with Eggman then you already know what's going on. What's the plan, because it's just me and Rouge down here and we're scrambling."

Sonic winced.

"Actually, we're in a bit of situation. Eggman's got us trapped in a glass cage, and we've tried everything to get out," he admitted, his face twisting like it pained him to admit that he was stuck.

"Glass? Like the tank you told me about the other day?"

"No, I could break that one with my hammer," Amy cut in, grimacing at the memory of Sonic in that tank, floating and barely alive. "This one is something else."

There was an incoherent crackle of static, before "-but it's glass so this should work. Hey Rouge, cover your ears."

Before either Sonic or Amy had a chance to comprehend Tail's words, an incomprehensible screech blasted around them and both hedgehogs immediately fell to the floor clutching the sides of their head.

The sound lasted for what seemed like forever, and when it finally ceased Amy could still hear its phantom in the air.

"What the heck was that Tails!?" Sonic yelled at his wrist. Amy couldn't work out if he was shouting because he was mad or because he couldn't hear himself over the ringing in his ears. It was likely a combination of the two.

"Sorry, I did try to warn you."

Sonic shook his head.

"Did it work though. Did the pitch shatter the glass?"

"No …?" Amy said as she slowly realised what Tails had been trying to do. "I think you didn't go high enough … or maybe the communicator isn't powerful enough."

"I'll loop your comm in too Amy, and then cycle through some different pitches. You'll be out of there in a snap … or I should say smash." The pink hedgehog couldn't help but smile at Tails attempt at levity.

"Maybe give us a little more warning this time bro," Sonic complained.

"What, do want a countdown or something? Because, three, two …"

Amy and Sonic slammed their hands over their ears as Tails reached 'one' and that terrible sound rang out around them again. This time Amy was more prepared despite the sound intensifying with her own communicator emitting it alongside Sonic's. When she looked up, it was to see that the walls of the cage were vibrating.

She felt more than heard the pitch change around them and slowly but surely the glass was vibrating faster and faster and faster until there was no other option but for it to -

She threw herself towards Sonic and dragged him to the ground in the centre of the cage right as the glass shattered to pieces around them. Tails must have heard the sound on his end because suddenly the screeching stopped and the room fell silent.

"You guys okay there?"

Amy lifted her head and stood before toppling right back to the ground. That sound had messed with her balance, but all in all, she supposed she was. She turned to Sonic and found him dusting sparkling glass dust off of his knees. He at least had managed to remain standing.

He noticed her watching him and held out a hand which she took gratefully, letting him pull her to her feet. She wobbled but managed to stay upright this time.

"We're fine," Amy said as Sonic grabbed her hand and led her out the room, breaking the doors locking system with a single punch to the button pad. The door swung open to reveal a short, deserted corridor that stretched out in both directions.

"Good call on the cage Tails, but that was only the start. We have to shut down Eggman's cannon."

There was a buzz of interference before Tails voice came through again.

"There has to be a powerful source of energy on board. If you can find a way to disable it then the canon won't have enough juice to fire."

"Wait here," Sonic said. "I'll take a look around."

"Oh, hell no hedgehog," Amy said. "You're not leaving me here."

"Fine," he said with a curt nod as he headed down a corridor. "I'll check this way, you get that way. Shout if you find anything."

Amy nodded, and they parted ways.

She rounded the corner, her heels clanking against the metal floor. Every corridor she turned was deserted, and if Eggman had been right about this place blowing to pieces, then she had no doubt that she and Sonic were the only things left alive in the vicinity.

It didn't take her long to find what she was searching for. A room sparking wildly with lightning.

There was no doubt in her mind that it held the power source. She peered in through the glass window and frowned at the sight of the master emerald within, encased within a generator.

How did Eggman manage to get it in his possession? Come to think of it, Tails did say he couldn't get a hold of Knuckles. She hoped he was okay, but she didn't have time to dwell on him just then. Without wasting any more time, the pink hedgehog spun on her toes and ran back to where she'd left her blue counterpart, calling out to him as she ran.

"SONIC! SONIC!"

She'd barely turned into the corridor she'd last seen him in when she almost ran into the solid form of the blue hedgehog. He caught her by the shoulders and drew her to a halt. "Everything okay?"

"I found it," Amy said breathlessly, pointing in the direction she'd just come from. "There's a room back there sparking with electricity and the Master Emerald is trapped inside."

"The Master Emerald! Where the hell is Knuckles?!" Tail's incredulous voice buzzed. There was a muffle of voices before the fox's voice came through again."Sorry, Rouge has gone to look for him so it's just me from now on."

"You're more than enough Tails," Amy reassured him. "We can do this."

"You two need to be careful. If the Master Emerald is sparking, then it's unstable. You can't walk in there unprotected, the power will fry you in seconds. Sonic, do you still have that emerald?"

Sonic reached behind him, pulling a crystalline emerald from his quills. It rolled across his fingers a little before he closed a fist around it tightly.

"Yeah, after last time I always keep it with me for emergencies."

"Whatever you do, don't activate it. It's not safe with all that unpredictable energy around you. You should be able to harness it's resting energy, but its protection radius is likely to be small."

Amy knew what that meant. Only one of them could go into the room.

"If that energy is unstable as I think, then even the emerald can only protect you from so much. It won't be able to withstand a direct explosion, so try to keep the damage to a minimum." There was a pause, and then. "Be careful."

"We will," Sonic assured. "See you after we save the world buddy."

There was a soft buzz of static and then the comm fell silent, and Amy knew that the two of them were alone once again.

"Alright, why don't-" Sonic started to say but stopped when Amy plucked the emerald from his open palm. She closed her fingers around it tightly, feeling the gentle thrum of untapped power within.

"Amy, I need that." Sonic said with a frown, holding out his hand impatiently.

She shook her head.

"No, you don't."

Sonic's eyes filled with horror as he realised what she intended to do. He darted forward to grab the emerald off of her, but even he wasn't fast enough to reach her before she slipped her hand behind her back.

"Amy, no. Give it back to me," he grumbled as he tried and failed to reach around her.

"I won't," she said stubbornly. "Mobius needs their hero, now more than ever. I'd be stupid to let you go in there and hurt yourself."

Sonic took a step away from her, narrowing his eyes at her in irritation.

"Given the choice, who would you send in Sonic - the person who held the very hopes of the people in their hands or some girl with a hammer?"

There was a charged silence between them as Sonic refused to answer.

"We both know the answer Sonic. If it's between saving me and the world, there really isn't much of a choice. There's only ever one answer."

Sonic sighed, clearly exasperated.

"But you can't just-"

"I can."

Amy pressed her lips together tightly as she realised she had to take the opportunity to say her next words, just in case she never got the chance again. Mustering all of her resolve, she lifted her gaze and looked Sonic directly in the eyes.

It felt like staring into the sun.

"I forgive you Sonic. For all of it."

Amy didn't let herself register the expression on his face as she turned on her heels and walked away. Towards a tentative future that she knew in her heart that she might never live to see.

#sonamy #sonamy fanfiction #cataclysm of the heart #iheartsonamy #fanfiction

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rwby-grimm-guardians · 4 years ago

Text

RWBY Grimm Guardians Arc 1: Monster Weapons Ch 4

Side Xiao Long: Fencer of Gold

Hey guys! Welcome back to my canon divergent RWBY AU, Grimm Guardians. This is Side Side Xiao Long. This chapter is named after “Fencer of Gold” by Jam Project.

I TRIED to find a song that had to do with dragons, but again, I couldn’t find any. So please comment a youtube link if you found one, please. Thank you.

Disclaimer: I don’t own RWBY or it’s characters.

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

(Prior to leaving for Junior’s Club)

Yang Xiao Long stretched her arms and legs, before grabbing her Dual Ranged Shot Gauntlets, Ember Celica. After putting them on, she heard a voice. “So...are we finally going to see some action?” The voice yawned, to which Yang chuckled. “Relax, we’re almost ready. It’s been a while since you talked, Ember.” Yang said.

Ember materialized in front of the teenage girl, sitting and gave a smirk. The Weapon Spirit appeared as a young adult, tanned, a bit voluptuous, and toned as hell, with short blonde hair, scars, red right and lilac left eye. She was wearing a yellow muscle shirt, brown jeans, and MMA gloves, along with an orange scarf and sunglasses. “I was bored as hell. Can you blame me?” She said, standing up and matching Yang’s height.

The teenager snorted, “I guess not. Though I would like to talk about you and Dad and how you know each other.” The Weapon Spirit nodded and put an arm around the other blonde’s shoulder. “So, you know how Taiyang, much like Summer, made a bond with a Demigod Grimm? Well, I was that.” She said. “While I didn’t gain a form until I became your Weapon Spirit, Tai always considered me as his ‘sibling’.”

“So...you’re basically my aunt. Is that what you’re saying?” Yang asked, only to receive a shrug. Ember rubbed her chin, “Well, only if you want me as one. I personally don’t have an issue with titles.” Yang nodded, “I’ll stick with Ember. Did you and Dad ever talk?” “Well, we never talked about personal life, as I believed that it should be kept private.” The Weapon Spirit said.

“However, I would give him some advice whenever he was in combat and teach him new fighting techniques.” Ember said, which Yang nodded to. “Did you know...her?” Yang asked. She didn’t need to specify who she meant by “her”. She was obviously referring to her mother, Raven Branwen. Ember sighed and shook her head, “No. All I need knew, up until now, were Tai, Summer, and the Demonic Grimm that inhabited Summer.”

For about an hour, that’s what Yang and Ember talked about. Ember mostly went through her history with Taiyang and only briefly talked about Summer and the Demonic Grimm that inhabited her. She left out any information about Raven, due to not really knowing her. Yang did ask questions here and there, but she was mostly interested and immersed in Ember’s stories.

“What do you think of Crescent Rose?” Yang asked. Ember tapped her chin in deep thought, “She’s good. Nice. Caring. Though something about her seems...familiar.” After a couple of moments, Yang’s eyes widened. “You don’t think she could be…” She started, only for Ember to shake her head. “I doubt it. She was killed. When a bond dies, we Demigod and Demonic Grimm die with them.” The Weapon Spirit said. “Then again...I don’t know if there’s a way to cheat the system.”

“I wouldn’t get your hopes up too much.” Ember said., knowing Yang was coming to conclusions. “While she may look like Summer, there is currently NO evidence that supports that she IS her. Crescent could be the Demonic Grimm that bonded with her or a new being entirely.” Yang sighed, “ Gāisǐ de. ” Ember rubbed the blonde girl’s back, “Relax, Yángguāng. I just said that there was CURRENTLY no evidence. There may be some, but we haven’t found it yet.”

Yang nodded, feeling slightly better over the situation. She then looked at the clock and said, “We should get going very soon.” The Weapon Spirit nodded and stood up, walking to the door. When she opened it, she was unexpectedly greeted by Taiyang. “Came to wish us good luck, Tai?” She asked. The blonde male nodded, “Yes, also I...need to ask you something.” Ember stood in silence, realizing that Taiyang probably heard some of her conversation with Yang.

Before she could answer, Yang came up and hugged her father. Taiyang chuckled and hugged her back, before the two broke the embrace as Yang went to the door. “You be careful, okay?” Taiyang said, receiving a nod from his eldest daughter. “We will!” She said with a grin. “We’ll let you know when we’re on our way back.” She then went outside to prep her motorcycle, Bumblebee for her trip.

After Yang went outside, Taiyang looked at Ember, who just sighed. “I assume you heard?” She asked. The blonde male nodded, “Is it true?” “Is what true?” The Weapon Spirit asked, albeit a tad sarcastically. Before Taiyang could speak, Ember put a hand over his mouth, “Listen, Tai. I don’t know. As of now, there’s NO evidence that proves that Crescent is Summer, the Demonic Grimm that inhabited her, or a completely new individual.”

There was a brief period of silence, before Taiyang sighed with a sad tone. “I assume you don’t want me to think about it too much?” He asked, receiving a nod from his “sister”. “That would be wise.” She said. “I know you miss Summer and Raven, but staying in the past isn’t going to help you. It’s only going to cause depression.” Taiyang just sighed once more, but reluctantly nodded.

Yang came back inside and shouted, “Ember! The bike’s ready!” “I’ll be out in a bit!” The Weapon Spirit called out and then turned back to the blonde man. “Well, I’m headed out. Please don’t think too much on it.” She said. “It’s not healthy for your mind.” After Taiyang reluctantly nodded, he hugged the Weapon Spirit before letting go and waved goodbye to her and his eldest daughter.

“You two be careful now! Okay?” He called out, receiving a nod from Yang. “We will! Bye!” She said with a smile. Taiyang smiled and waved, “Bye. Good luck!” After Yang nodded in thanks, she closed the door. Taiyang sighed as he heard the motorcycle start up and drive off to the girls’ destination and pulled out his scroll. He dialed a number and put the device up to his ear.

“Qrow?” He said into the mic. “It’s me. I need you to do something for me.” “What is it?” The male Branwen asked. “It’s Yang. She and Ember are heading to Junior’s bar.” The blonde man said, only to hear a chuckle from Qrow. “They’ll be fine, Tai. They aren’t fragile.” The black hair man said. Taiyang’s jaw dropped, “What do you mean they’ll be fine!?”

“Do you have little faith in your daughter and ‘sister’?” Qrow asked. It took a couple seconds for the male Xiao Long to respond, “No.” “Do you trust them that they’ll be safe?” Qrow asked again. Taiyang sighed, “Yes.” “Then don’t worry. They’ll be fine. Yang and Ruby will be fine with their Weapon Spirits.” Qrow confirmed. “Now, I’ll call you back. I have to meet with someone.”

Taiyang raised an eyebrow, “With who?” “She’ll kill me if I told you. Relax, we can trust her.” Qrow answered. While Taiyang had some suspicions on who Qrow’s contact was, he didn’t say anything about, instead saying, “Alright. I’ll leave you to it. By the way, I...want to ask you a personal question.” Qrow suppressed a sigh, “What is it?” Taiyang took a deep breath, before asking, “Do you think Crescent Rose is Summer?”

Dead silence. There was complete and utter silence from the other end of the line that Taiyang was almost sure that Qrow hung up on him. He snapped back into reality from him feeling guilty when the male Branwen answered, “I don’t know.” “Did Ember speak to you about that?” Qrow asked, earning a sigh from the blonde man. “Yes.” He said. “And?” Qrow asked once more. Taiyang sighed and reluctantly said, “She told me not to worry about it...and that there was no evidence to prove it.”

“Okay then.” Qrow said. “I would suggest that you listen to her.” The blonde man groaned and sighed, “Fine.” “She’s right, you know.” The male Branwen said. “I gotta go now. Bye.” “Bye.” Taiyang then hung up and rubbed his eyes. Was he this tired before? Or was the conversation and his thoughts that made it seem like it? He sighed and laid on the couch. He needed to relax, and if a nap would do that? So be it. He left his scroll on the coffee table, in case anyone needed to call him, and shut his eyes.

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

Translation from Chinese: Gāisǐ de = Damn it, Yángguāng = Sunshine

And there you have it. Side Xiao Long is FINALLY finished. It took a LOT longer to make this and I’d honestly rather not state why, but it’s done. Side Branwen will be up tomorrow. See you then.

#rwby #rwby au #rwby fanfiction #yang xiao long #taiyang xiao long #qrow branwen #grimm guardians au #rwby ocs #ember celica

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writerwrites · 4 years ago

Text

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Protégé to Bruce Banner, Rosemarie finds herself working closely with and befriending the Avengers. Friendship, lust, heartbreak, and so much more find her along this heartbreaking journey into new adulthood. Rosemarie discovers her self-worth and that home is where the heart is… she’ll just have to figure out what her heart is saying first.

Word Count: 7k

Warnings: Smut 18+, language, angst, fluff, language, ye ole slow burn, and eventually death, pregnancy, love triangle… or love adjacent to a triangle? It’s complicated.

playlist . masterlist

A/N: This WIP is intentionally made to ruin all of our lives with feels. You were warned. It’s just my writing style, but I use a name for the reader, in this case Rosemarie, so adjust your imaginations as you read, fam. Also, I do what I want, so don’t come at me for MCU canon timelines. The most notable YOLO in this series is that Bucky/Winter Soldier is an Avenger pre-Blip, Banner isn’t in space, and though there’s tension between the Tony and Cap ‘sides’ of the Sokovia Accords they’re all trying to work together. Avenging is not a main point to this story, but that’s the clarification I will give you. I hope you enjoy my first posted fic, leave a comment, review, message, etc.

Chapter 1: Let’s fall in love for the night...

--- STARK INDUSTRIES: THE TOWER; MIDTOWN MANHATTAN ---

“To the wolves,” Natasha whispered to Bruce as she pressed her fingers to his chest, stopping him from coming to his employee’s rescue. It wasn’t a malicious act, Nat had sized her up as ‘new to this’ and she wasn’t wrong. Rosemarie’s rapid ladder climbing in academia and internships had kept her barred from most parties. At first it was because she was underage, but even in her last year, most people found her intimidating or shy. Natasha glowed like a friend full of faith in a new puppy- or maybe it was the expensive brand name highlight on her cheekbones. “She’ll be fine. If you go to your little lab rat now then she’ll stick to you all night because you’re familiar. Let her have her moment. I’m sure she’s the last one of the three you invited that you’ll need to worry about.”

Bruce pursed his lips and looked down at Natasha’s mouth and her angled features that were made more accentuated through meticulous contouring. “Well, how can I say no to you when you show up in this dress, Jessica Rabbit?”

She leaned into his shoulder, her silky gloved hand sliding up his arm, and whispered in her sultry deep voice that sent shivers up down his spine, “Exactly, now dance with me, big guy.”

Though Rosemarie couldn’t hear what they were saying she watched her boss in his bright red pants and suspenders over a white button up being led to the dance floor. It took enough of her focus to keep her mouth off the floor. She never expected to see Dr. Banner smiling and maybe no one else did either because she’d made it deeper into the room seemingly unnoticed as everyone’s attention diverted to Nat and Bruce or back to their own conversations. The laughter and atmosphere was enough to make Rosemarie find her own small smile. Everyone donned costumes of varying extravagance, the music was at a low enough volume to welcome conversation, and as the songs changed she noticed it slipped between Halloween and pop music. Before she knew it, she’d breezed through the crowd toward the bar, invisible.

There wasn’t a single seat free at the bar and Rosemarie used her equivalent of a super power to keep slipping through the line along the bartop to it’s far corner where a couple was too busy flirting to notice her standing next to them, waiting to order a drink. The minutes ticked on and burning holes into the bartenders’ backs didn’t make them notice her. When her eyes moved up the bar, guessing who everyone was dressed as, Rosemarie felt the shock of the scene as people she had seen on television or read about during her research stood chatting just a few feet away. Swallowing at the dryness that settled in the back of her throat as she tried to pick apart their costumes and tell herself this wasn’t a big deal, that she’d even ‘met’ them during her Stark internship- albeit through a lab window. All of the chatting Avengers donned black suits with white shirts and black ties, some had sunglasses on and she smirked at her hands when she caught sight of Captain America and the notorious Winter Soldier’s suits added the accessory of fedoras.

Maybe she hadn’t realized she laughed out loud a little, but Rosemarie was caught in the act. Their blue eyes moved down the bar to the young doctor leaning against the wall still waiting to be noticed by the bartenders. The innocent chuckle caught in her mouth as her face warmed and her eyes fell to the surprisingly comfortable heels. Rosemarie’s brain raced, the sensation of eyes on her, of being seen, had her mind flitting from panic, to embarrassment, and even fleetingly to Natasha’s hands brushing along her leg. Despite no physical scarring, the heat in her cheeks felt like there were tallies adding up on her forehead marking this as three times more than she had been seen in years. Casually trying to look up under her lashes brought a new surprise, the group of suited men had dispersed just as quickly as she had noticed them. But then she heard it, a Brooklyn drawl that sounded like home. Then she felt it, the gentle brush of cold metal just above her elbow. Timidly, she looked up from those heels, polished boots standing toe-to-toe, and her eyes kept moving north up the stocky, six foot frame of the Winter Soldier. The white shirt was tight to his chest and just as she surveyed his neck, a shot was offered to her.

He broke the silence, pulling Rosemarie from her reverie “You looked like you were waiting a while.”

Looking graciously at the drink, now more than ever, she took it and looked into his bright blue gaze with a nod, “You’d be right in guessing that, Brooklyn.”

“Brooklyn?” He watched Rosemarie with curiosity as she took the shot, wondering why she’d called him that, but she offered no explanation. “What am I supposed to call you?”

With the burn in her throat from the smooth tequila, she found a new fleeting liquid-confidence. “Natasha won’t be happy if her Snow White ensemble isn’t instantly pin-pointable, sir.”

“Well, Snow, what can we do to get you out of this corner and have a little fun with us tonight?” His blue gaze looks innocent enough, Rosemarie decides, but his thoughts are anything but- a game already in play amongst the suited men.

“You’ve already done it.” Before she can banter any more, his vibranium fingers took hers and he brushed her past strangers toward the Avengers, maneuvering her curvy frame through the room with ease.

“Snow, the boys,” Smiling and quite literally looking up at everyone, the doctor realized the soldier hadn’t yet dropped her hand, but just as quickly as she had that thought, he’d left her hand cold and empty. Rosemarie reached out to shake everyone's hands in a whirlwind of greetings as she tried to remember the few first names she wasn’t familiar with. “You’ll have a hard time remembering some of our names if you’re going to stick with your current system. Steve Rogers, also Brooklyn.”

Steve’s grip was surprisingly gentle, giving you one firm shake before his fingertips brushed your palm and let you go. A stark contrast to Thors’ which had been strong, and Rhodey and Clint’s which were fleeting and polite. Rosemarie choked on the air leaving her lungs as she tried to keep her cool, feeling the Brooklyn boys’ blue eyes still watching her as a charming man you knew as ‘Falcon’ leaned in front of them, “Sam or, if we’re being technical- the one and only Agent J.”

Rosemarie listened to the cadence in Sam’s voice and guessed Harlem, but bit her tongue, smiled and nodded. “Men in Black, classic choice, but these two…” she pointed between the two super soldiers, “Are the Brooklynites the Blues Brothers this evening?” The smirks that lit up the two men’s faces gave her an indication that she’d gotten it right and, as much as she wanted to keep looking, there was something fun in this game of being in a circle of lethal and exceptionally attractive people, though she was positive she wouldn’t hold their attention long. “Now you three,” her gaze panned over the remaining suits and then between them at the minglers nearby. With a sigh she shook her head, “You’ll have to tell me.”

“Reservoir Dogs.” It was Clint who shrugged it off with a confident smirk. “Tony’s idea, but I think he just wanted to see who looked best in a suit.” His hazel eyes moved over Rosemarie’s shoulder, “It was nice to meet you, kiddo, I’ve got to get back to-” With a clap on her shoulder Hawkeye walked past you and through the barrier of soldiers at your back.

Rhodey was quick to follow, mentioning his night was all about business and politely excuses himself as Rosemarie looked at her heels and tried not to take offense to having so quickly cleared out the room. She put her smile back on, trying to brush it off and to brush off the ‘kiddo’ comment, too. “So, Brooklyn mentioned something about you all being where the fun is tonight?” Pivoting, she closed the gap that Clint and Rhodey’s absence had made in their little group.

“I mean, we are, I don’t know about the two fossils.” Sam laughed as he drank his beer, a clear buzz already going.

“Just because we can’t get wasted doesn’t mean we are any less fun than you idiots. Besides, someone has to babysit the Asgardian and the college rambler.” The Winter Soldier’s words were honest with a twinge of annoyance but Steve clutched his shoulder and smiled. “We’re wondering who you think we all should be dancing with.”

Her thoughts were on who could be the ‘college rambler’ and the request. An actual laugh passing her lips that bordered a scoff, but she looked around and gave it her best shot. “Thor maybe with the brunette over there talking to the lady agent with Mr. Fury.” Tilting her chin up she saw the corner of his mouth turn up into a smirk as he took his hand out of his pockets and smacked a handshake into Sam’s hand.

“I bet he’d be more upset if it wasn’t Sif. I swear those two have been harboring feelings for each other since…” Sam laughed and shrugged. “All right, matchmaker, not a bad start. Who’s next?”

Swallowing, she looked around the room. There were plenty of women standing around chatting to other women, but one beautiful woman looked around the room with an expression all too relatable to Rosemarie’s. “Sam, what about the petite cutie with the marg by Nat?”

Taking his hands out of his pockets, Sam clapped Steve on the shoulder and shook his hand. An odd gesture, Rosemarie fleetingly thought, but before her eyebrows could even draw together in confusion the soldiers looked at each other and Cap, shaking his head, told him, “That’s Thor’s ex, Jane.” His head tilted at the young doctor in front of him. “Isn’t she working with you and Banner?”

With a shrug, you looked over again, Sam leaning on the table and Nat rolling her eyes, Jane clearly trying not to make direct eye contact. “Well, I’m clearly no matchmaker, so I hope that if she’s working with me that Sam doesn’t actually tell her what I did.”

“Don’t take it too hard, most of the regulars have at least gone on a date with Tony and everyone else has done God knows what with at least one other person in the room.” Steve shrugged, offering a gentle smile before bringing his beer to his lips and pulling his eyes from her.

“Okay, we won’t force you into playing our little game anymore, so it’s our turn then.” Rosemarie looked up at the two remaining Avengers, but their eyes were on each other and then out through the crowd.

“What about Pete?” Steve suggested, nodding toward a somewhat familiar face.

It took a moment before she could place him. “He’s a college student interning for Stark, isn’t he?” Her eyebrows drew together with uncertainty. If she remembered his story from the one conversation they’d had, he was a savant like herself. “He’s a bit young, isn’t he?”

“Aren’t you?”

“I’m old enough to drink.” She nipped back at the boys, her own Brooklyn accent thick.

“All right, what do we have here? The beginnings of a joke, surely. Two cavemen and the apprentice of Yoda walk into a bar…” The clap of hands and quippy attitude were quick to place.

Steve greeted him tight lipped with a single nod. “Tony.”

“Cap. Barnes. I see you’ve met my former intern and young doctor of neuroscience that is leading one of Banner’s teams at BST. Doctor...,” He trailed off, either to let her introduce herself or to remind him of her name.

Regardless of whatever game Stark was trying to play, her non-confrontational nature made her quick to smile, nod, and shrug off the introductions, “I’m just Snow tonight.”

Tony’s head tilted to the side and both super soldiers failed to hide their amusement. “Y’know, I see why Pepper likes you.” As if hearing her name made her ears tingle, Pepper slipped in at his side, offered up a wave to the group, whispering into his ear and pulled him along as her black dress ghosted the pristine floor, a perfect replica of Hepburn’s Givenchy gown from Breakfast at Tiffany’s. But as he passed her he whispered in her ear, “Don’t get too caught up with these troublemakers, kiddo.”

Needless to say, Rosemarie knew they’d heard it when she caught their jaws clenching and she groaned. “I make decisions for myself, thanks.” Brazenly, she grabbed both their hands, “Back to the bar, Brooklynites. I think we all could use a drink.” It amazed her how, with a look, three people gave up seats for them. “So, back to this horrible job you gentlemen were doing at a setup, care to try again while I enjoy this?” She lifted the shot, throwing it back after they did the same, and then made an order for an actual drink. Her attention wasn’t on them, unaware of the looks they gave each other, their gaze panning the room. “Giving up on the impossible mission, boys?”

“Impossible?” Steve laughed.

“Giving up?” Bucky scoffed.

“It’s all right. I did what Nat and Bruce needed, a quick show of my face and day one of the new job is done.” She shrugged, sipping on her drink.

“Day one?” They’d asked in unison.

“Yup.” She nodded, polishing off the drink, a sudden urge to make the most of the night now settling into her bones and she slipped off the chair, the Winter Soldier’s vibranium hand reaching over to quickly help Rosemarie steady.

“... and you’re at a Halloween party instead of celebrating with friends?” Steve pressed his lips together, trying to hide a look of pity.

“Don’t.” She grimaced in a whisper, a slight sadness in her eyes as they met Steve’s. “It’s a party. Dancing, that’s what we’re supposed to be doing right?”

The pulse of the song felt familiar, even if she didn’t know the words. Rosemarie’s hips swayed side to side, arms up like the music was pumping and she was home alone dancing Bachata. Forgetting about the peak of skin that the crop top exposed in doing so, she felt the heat rise in her body when both of them swallowed. Her eyes fluttered closed and she kept dancing. Eyes closed, ignoring the initial eyes on her or that Nat had pulled Bruce to the floor and Pepper, Tony before the majority of chattering conversations ceased and the floor filled with laughter as a new tune thumped on.

The gentle sensation of a hand on her hips made her eyes open and Rosemarie gasped to see Natasha swaying with one hand behind her on Bruce’s neck and the other on her hip. “How much have you had to drink? I definitely didn’t think you’d be the one to start the fun tonight.”

“Surprise?” She tried to laugh, “Not much, promise.” The comment was directed at Bruce who didn’t seem bothered either way. “We’ve got work in the morning. I wanted to have a little fun and appreciate the invitation before heading back home.”

“Already?” Nat pouted.

“Brooklyn, baby! It’s about forty minutes home.”

Rosemarie watched Nat’s hand pull away from her as she slowly stopped dancing. “Then I guess we’ll just have to drag you out sometime. You seem like you’re getting along with everyone, right?” Her green eyes looked over the doctor’s shoulder back to the bar. “Get this one home safe. She’s headed that way.” Just as Rosemarie was about to protest, Nat wiggled a finger.

It seemed like a fruitless thing to argue, but in her mildly buzzed state she lacked the energy to fight or to realize that in a tidy little pile in a limestone on the Upper East Side bathroom were her keys, clothes, and badge. With a nod and a quick goodnight, she headed toward the elevator, weaving effortlessly through the crowd with a smile on her face. As the doors dinged open she could feel the presence of the two men on either side of her. “You don’t have to, guys. It’s Brooklyn, been there my whole life. I can handle myself. Hell, you see how easily I walk through this room. I’m Harry Potter in the restricted section twenty-four, seven.”

Neither of them seemed to catch the reference, following her into the elevator. Steve broke the uncomfortable silence, “I’m not much for partying and he’s not much for groups without me.”

“Now, you’ll have to pick your poison because we both rode motorcycles here.” Rosemarie crossed her arms stubbornly at his comment. Crossing her arms after hitting the main floor’s button, he realized she wasn’t going to cave. “All right, looks like we’ll have to do this the old school way. Three out of five?”

“That should get us to the main floor.” Laughing like schoolboys, they played rock-paper-scissors, the doors opening, and Rosemarie ducking under their hands to get out.

“So who won the honor of a very long chaperoning adventure?” She asked as they reached two motorcycles in the parking garage.

“Go on, Buck. I’ll see you back home later.” Steve’s face was warmer, a genuine look of happiness on his face as he clapped a hand to his friend’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “C’mere Snow, let’s get a helmet on you.”

“It’s Rosemarie, actually.”

“She speaks!” Bucky got on his bike, his own helmet secure and the engine purring. “Pretty name, doll. Bit of a mouthful, but maybe it suits you.”

“I used to be called Rorie when I was little.” She rubbed her hands nervously in front of her as she also listened to Steve telling her how to get on the bike. He even took her hand to help her as she swung her leg over. “Good night, Steve. I guess I’ll be seeing you around.”

Tilting his head to meet her eye, he smiled, the kind of warm smile where it met his eyes and made creases in the corner. “I hope so.”

And with that farewell, the engine was revved and Rosemarie lurched forward in fear. Her arms wrapping to the best of her ability around the suited soldier, taking in fist fulls of his shirt when she couldn’t fully hold on to him. His vibranium hand covered her, his hand patting hers as she hid her face into his back. It took her a minute, but he let her get used to the chill of the wind on her arms and legs, the stop and go of the city’s red lights, and the proximity to a man she hardly knew. When she finally plucked up the courage to look up they were halfway to Brooklyn. Her right arm stretched out and she flipped up the visor to the helmet, letting out a laugh and cheer as they zipped through Queens Midtown Tunnel. His vibranium hand patted hers and though she couldn’t see it, she thought he was smiling too.

It wasn’t until they reached Brooklyn’s limits and her racing heart settled into a calmer cadence that he pulled over at a red light and flipped up his own visor. Exasperated, she pouted and gently tapped her helmet to his, “Don’t stop driving!”

Then he laughed, just like he had with Steve, and explained himself, “You’ve got to tell me where you live eventually.” It took a moment, a fleeting thought that it would be easier to show him the address on her ID than to try and shout over the sound of the bike through a helmet, that she realized she’d been to caught up tonight to remember her clothes, lab coat and badge, keys, and even her phone were in Bruce and Natasha’s house. He could tell something wasn’t right, pivoting on the bike to get a better look at her. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“My keys are on the damn Upper East Side.”

Laughing again, the man simply shook her head. “That’s fine, we can get it later. What’s the address?”

--- ROSEMARIE’S UNIT ON E 22ND ST; BROOKLYN ---

She didn’t get it at first, but with their feet in front of the triple locked tiny fourth floor apartment, he squatted, took something out of his coat pocket, and within twenty seconds the door was opened, no sign of invasion. “Wow. You’re good with your hands.” Her cheeks were bright red as she slipped past him into the pitch black apartment. “Thank you so much, Mr. Barnes.”

He cringed and shook his head, “Bucky, please- or even Brooklyn or Barnes. Never James, never Mister Barnes or Mister anything-else, and preferably no Winter Soldier, either. Just Bucky.”

“Have it your way, Bucky.” She gave him a nod to come in while she leaned against the door, a warm smile on her face as the liquor was quickly leaving her system and the little flirtations had no gray area. “Let me make up this coerced escort nonsense for you.”

“Are you sure, Rosemarie? I thought you had work in the morning.” His blue eyes looked down at her, trying to read her expression as he tried to decide if he was being propositioned and if going in was a good idea.

“I’m sure.” With a laugh she tugged on his hands, his entire frame completely immobile in the hall. “Come keep me company and we'll have snackies!”

Bucky nodded, stepping into her home with clear eyes and a sense of expectation that she’d drawn a line about where the night would lead. She flicked on light after light, the room filling with a warm honey-white glow that illuminated the books, art, pictures, scattered around the room and hanging on the walls. “This is nice.”

Her head popped up from behind the refrigerator door, her eyes falling on the man that looked obscenely too broad for the space. “Do you mean the apartment or the picture?” Rosemarie saw his blue gaze studying a painting on the wall, “It’s a painting of Roraima in...”

“The borders of Venezuela, Brazil, and Guyana.”

“Yeah… I want to go someday. It was my brother’s last painting.” She swallowed and looked down at the peanut butter and nutella sandwiches she was making, reminding herself to catch her breath. It’s not like he hasn’t travelled all over the world. It’s not like he really cares about where you want to travel to. He definitely doesn’t care about your crazy family.

“You should go, it’s one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever seen.” He smiled at the painting and came to the kitchen counter, noticing the crease in her forehead as she made their late night snack. “Do you want to talk about him?”

She shrugged, both surprised by the question and uncertain of her needs colliding with her personal baggage. Instead, Rosemarie slid the plate of four half-sandwich triangles toward him and then added two spoons to the plate before tucking a pint of Ben & Jerry’s Cinnamon Buns ice cream and two bottles of hard cider under her arms. “He’s the one that used to call me Rorie. He couldn’t really get Rosemarie out and my parents hated it when people mispronounced it as rosemary.” It felt like a simple enough gateway to let her try to gauge his interest. After flopping onto the couch and nodding to the spot next to her he joined her, setting the food on the coffee table and taking one of the ciders. “I think they’re twist off caps?” She struggled, cheeks red with embarrassment, but Bucky used his vibranium hand to flick the cap off before doing the same with his. “Oh, so that’s what the hand is for.”

“Among other things.” They shared a soft laugh and he watched her kick off the heels and pick up the gaming controller, talking to the television as it popped up with the Netflix logo at her commands. “What are we watching?”

Tossing him the remote she grabbed a slice of the sandwiches and pulled her knees to her chest. Taking a big bite, the hazelnut and peanut butter coated her mouth and she let out a satisfied hum. “Brooklyn's choice.” A second big bite and another hum and Bucky’s curiosity got the better of him, clicking the first film on her recommended list to snag a slice for himself. A deeper, similar hum passing his lips made Rosemarie squirm in her seat. She washed it down with the cider. “Right? Comfort snackies are the best late night food.” Rosemarie turned to look at the super soldier taking up two thirds of the love seat to find the hazelnut spread in the scruff of his overgrown stubble. With liquid courage pulsing in her veins she leaned in slightly and brushed it away with her thumb, but not courageous enough to meet his piercing blue eyes. Heart thumping in her ears, she whispered, “I forgot to grab a napkin.”

Bucky’s full lips wrapped around her thumb, his eyes unblinking as hers went wide. The soldier didn’t give her a chance to act on flight, his arm wrapping around her waist and pulling her onto his lap as she whimpered at the sensation of his tongue sliding up her finger. “Aren’t you just starved for attention.”

He wasn’t wrong. It had been six months since she’d been with anyone and that was a one night stand with a stranger from a bar and longer still since someone had been inside her. She’d taken herself out to celebrate finishing school and someone told her she had the perfect body. Rosemarie squirmed in his lap thinking about the way their hands had worshiped her curves and their mouth had set her off. It was one of just a couple of encounters. All of them paled in comparison to having the broad shouldered and bright eyed man holding her close. “I..It’s…”

The man smirked at how flustered she was, His fingers moving from a firm grip holding her waist to brushing up her back as he finished the snack in one final big bite. He almost looked childish if it hadn’t been for the look in his eyes, pupils blown and the corner of his mouth turned up. “Complicated? Doesn’t have to be, Sugar.”

Sugar, the word was sweeter in the subtle hints of his accent, a dated term of endearment that wasn’t typical in any non-condescending modern usage, she thought. This wasn’t how intentional. He wasn’t even on her radar and as he drank his cider and watched her, she climbed off his lap and slowly unbuttoned the yellow shorts, stopping before she pushed them down because her little panicked mental monologue found her again. He doesn’t really want you. He just wants to get laid. Maybe I just want that, too? This is never going to happen again, so calm down, focus, enjoy the moment. But the ice cream on the table is going to melt and leave a water ring from condensation... Then his hands were on her hips, pulling her legs closer by tugging on the loose fabric of the shorts before he wiggled them down her legs.

His now empty bottle set to the side, Bucky looked up at her as he leaned forward and pressed his full lips to her hips. The warmth of his mouth and the sting of cool from the wet mark he’d left after it met the air felt as starkly contrasted as the warmth and the cold of his two hands. Nibbling on her bottom lip, he kissed the other side and questioned her demeanor. “What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?” Letting his fingers rake up her back and under the crop top, Bucky used his superior senses to interpret what she wasn’t saying. Rosemarie now realized just how small she was next to him, her pulse thumping with a far more vibrant cadence than when he’d taken her finger into his mouth. Now his own fingers rubbed her back and moved south, pushing her panties to the floor before coming back up to take off the crop top too. But he didn’t gawk or let his eyes wander, he just drank in the smell of hazelnut and peanut butter on her breath, the faint smell of honey and apricots from her morning shower, and the heat rising in her cheeks. “Where have you been the last ninety-nine years, Rorie?”

Swallowing down the nickname, she brought her hands to his tie, “Should I be flattered or creeped out about this age gap?” Nervously giggling she loosened the silky bit of black fabric, watching it ruffle into the mess of her own clothes half on the floor and half on the couch. She felt his muscles through the pressed fabric of his shirt until they ghosted along the top of his slacks and as she looked at his neck, still too anxious to meet his gaze, Rosemarie chewed on the inside of her cheek. Nerves, she was nothing but nerves on fire. When she undid his belt with shaking hands, his hands left hers to quickly undo the buttons of the dress shirt. It was a frantic and rapid dance to get him just as naked as she was and her nervous laughter abated into a whimper. The zipper went down exposing black boxer briefs and with her thumbs in the elastic and she pushed it down, just as he’d done to her, just enough to make his clothes fall to the floor. “This seems entirely unfair.”

He let her eyes move down his body, his chest rising and falling at steady pace, though obvious that he was taking deeper breaths. Rosemarie rested her forehead on his sternum, drinking in the toned muscles that met the cut of his hips, the hulking lines of his thighs, and then at last the bulk of his cock. She didn’t hide her fear from him well at all, completely certain she’d never be able to handle the size of the solid man. His hands went to her neck, hot and human, cold and robotic, and that tender tilt up of her chin, forcing her eyes to look into his, she knew that he knew. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. If you feel like I…”

“Bucky.” She interrupted, breathing sharply. Before her mind in all its anxious sadness could torment her back into silence she managed to whisper, “Of course I want you. I’m scared, not an idiot.” Leaning up, her lips brushed his, so close to kissing him, she made her request. “Please, gently.”

Of all the stories she had heard, she didn’t know if he was capable of it until he kissed her. Her soft lips were met with his, hungry and forceful and then, just before she could flinch, his tongue parted her lips and the kiss became subdued. Bucky knew what he was doing, teasing her with the passion she was missing out on while enticing her with the promise of giving her what she’d asked for. Her demure little touches of her fingers avoiding all his most sensitive areas made him moan against her lips. The man couldn’t help but wonder if she was intentionally teasing him in return. His lips left hers, trailing wet kisses down her neck and across her breasts. Bucky flicked his tongue across her nipples, hiding his smirk in her ribs at the squirm of her hips under his hands when he gave them no more attention and sat back on the couch. She was so close to pouting, protesting, and pleading, but his hands moved down her curves and tugged at the soft flesh at the back of her thighs, pulling her onto the couch to straddle him.

Rosemarie rocked her hips forward, pressing his length against his stomach and her clit. The groan that came from the back of Bucky’s throat had her dripping and as she continued grinding against him while they kissed, she could feel herself dripping down her thighs and onto him. His kisses were patient but the longer she kept teasing him, feeling her skin heat beneath his touch, Bucky began to rut his hips compulsively. Her finger tips dug into his shoulder and neck as the tight coil of her climax built in her belly before any part of him had even been inside her. Slowly she lifted herself and he looked into her eyes knowing what she was finally ready and asking for, confirmed by her lip biting and head nodding as she lowered herself onto him.

Bucky let her take him in, slow but keening. He could tell how badly she needed to do this on her own, quiet gasps between tongue tangled kisses as every inch of him stretched her. He savored those little sounds, they only made it harder for him not to thrust completely inside her. His mind was in a fog, intoxicated by the smell of her, the shake in her legs, even the way her body reacted to the cool metal of his weapon brushing her hair from her face. She’d turned into it, briefly pulling her lips from Bucky’s to put her burning cheeks to his palm and she knew he could kill her just as much as she felt it in her gut, he wouldn’t. She’d been in love just once before and never been looked at like this and just as she’d thought that his kisses stopped and his hands held her still and he asked her, “What’s that look?”

Rosemarie pressed her lips to Bucky’s metal wrist and his expression was just as unreadable as hers had been seconds earlier, “What’s that look?” Her playful feedback of the same question was far less focused, each word a breathy whimper as the sudden lack of affection made her all the more eager to be full of him. The doctor swayed her hips in small circles, calling out in her native tongue as their thighs met and he hit every spot, stretching her out.

“Fuck. Fuck you’re so tight.” The timbre in Bucky’s voice made her squeeze around him and he clutched her hips to stop her from moving for fear that the evening would be short lived. He pressed his forehead to her shoulder and she caressed his back and did the same, the salt on his skin coating her lips. They listened to each other breathing and Rosemarie began a slow ride, relishing the sounds of his pleasure. “Good girl,” the words were whispered in her ear - a stark contrast from his grunting just seconds earlier, his teeth brushed her earlobe, and then his hands squeezed her ass as he met her pace with repeat eye watering thrusts.

The English language failed her, pleading for more and pleasantly surprised when he understood. Bucky’s pace stayed the same, but each thrust was deep and then deeper. Her fingers tangled in his dark hair and pulled until his mouth was back on hers. The small apartment echoed with the bawdy sounds of moaning pleasure and skin on skin, all of her muscles began to tighten as he brought her to the edge. Leaning back slightly with a hand on his knee and the other on the couch Bucky accepted the invitation to access more of her body. His tongue drew circles around her hard nipples and his thumb massaged her clit. The slow build to the first orgasm had been worthwhile and obscenely wet, they could feel her pouring down their legs and soaking the couch. Immediately, her entire body shook and her face was bright right, her eyes apologetic. “I’m sorry, that… that’s never happened before and…”

A soft hush passed his lips and he pushed back inside of her, finding a new rhythm as her muscles reacted, milking every thick inch of him. “You’re sexy, beautiful, smart, and…” he swallowed, his thrusts became erratic, and maybe it was the compliments or an instinct he was close but Rosemarie couldn’t help herself, bouncing up and down on him, and every time he bottomed out she practically danced for him, grinding on him for friction to her clit. “Don’t stop.” He was the one panting and begging now. “Good girl, beautiful. Just like that.”

All the positive praise as his eyes stayed on her wide hips and full breasts made the woman question if this was how sex was supposed to be. The curves she only liked in certain outfits, now being drunk in like a missing Van Gogh. She got off on it, her body still reeling from her first orgasm and Bucky rutted into her as she gave him his. Lost in the moment, they held each other tightly, his cock filling her until he dripped his own mess onto the furniture. But despite the new exhaustion and how her tired body draped over him, he was still hard and she was still hungry. “More.”

The whimpered plea was met with his strong arms holding her as he walked down the short hall opening the first door to find it was the bathroom and then the second, her bedroom. Her legs were too tired to wrap around him and the tips of her toes tickled their way across the floor until he pulled her on top of him on her bed that was obscenely small for a man of his size, let alone two people. “Rorie, you should get some sleep.”

She bit the muscle of his flesh arm. “You’re still inside me, Barnes.” Her lips moved across his skin, nipping at his ribs before trailing her tongue along the toned muscles to his other arm, where she placed a kiss and settled her head. Her dark hair was unruly as it draped across him, his own no better on her bedsheets. Though breathless, she managed a feeble argument. “You can’t just bring me to bed, be inside me, look like this, and not keep going until I’m unconscious.”

He laughed, not maliciously but rather out of shock at how sleep impacted her candor more than alcohol had and all Rosemarie could think was there’s nothing more beautiful than you. It was written all over her face, but he missed it, his eyes closed as he laughed, and maybe he’d never believe it if he had. She couldn’t help herself, kissing every inch of his skin that she could without moving a muscle, savoring her legs tangled in his. “If you want me to put you to bed, there’s more than one way to do that.”

“But only one way I really want you tonight.”

“Tonight? There are other ways you want me on other nights…”

“Mmmhm, Friday night? You free?”

“It’s a date, sweetheart.” The banter was sleepy, but Bucky’s hips were already lifting off the mattress and his arm around her waist pinned her there to take each eager thrust.

What had started slow and sweet, evolved into deep and needy, now found an impassioned second wind. He worshiped her mouth, the tip of his tongue brushing across the roof and before he could have the audacity to take it from her, she nipped, and caressed his tongue with hers. Then Rosemarie worshiped his chest, arms, and stomach; pushing against him as she rocked her hips with every movement across his skin. He gave it to her again, deep thrusts, fervent even, and he pulled her mouth to his. “Good girl! So eager for another orgasm. Been a while since someone gave this pretty pussy the attention it deserves?” Her tired frame dropped slowly over him and he held her close on top of him, one hand brushing her hair as he still pinned her down at the waist as he claimed her. “I hear those tired moans, Sugar. I’m gonna put you to bed real soon. I want to hear it one more time. Say my name, roll those soft hips against me and say it.”

Her bedsheets were held in her fists, anything for further friction. They both got it and as she tightened around him she begged, sticky with sweat, sore and breathless, and still wanting. “Come with me, Bucky. I want to feel you throbbing inside me again. Bucky. Buck,” she was so close, panting, “Buck, don’t stop.”

Bucky tangled himself in her and gave her what she begged for, finishing deep inside of Rosemarie as her legs shook around him and her arms gave out, every muscle in her body vibrating. “Good girl. Now close those pretty eyes and get some sleep, okay?”

Though she nodded sleepily, her head almost incapable of being picked up from his chest, she mustered final exhausted chatter, “One last kiss and a promise you’ll stay?”

Again, he granted her request and she hummed at the sensation of his scruff on his chin. He smiled, satisfied, and finding her quiet verbalization of pleasure a sweet surprise he changed his mind about slipping out as soon as she fell asleep. “I’ll stay a bit, sweetheart. I gotta get your stuff from Nat’s before you have to head to work, but I’ll be here when you get up.”

She yawned, the word stay a soft echoing plea in her head that never passed her lips. Bucky reached over and pulled the blankets across them as Rosemarie already started to shiver. Typically he found the serum’s endurance enhancement’s side effect of insomnia infuriating, but tonight he was grateful for it. Watching her sleep in his arms like she needed him, clinging to his body every time he sighed or moved an inch. Then, despite usually only needing a few hours of shut eye a week, he drifted off into an unheard of peaceful, dreamless sleep. The last thing on his lips was a kiss to her temple and on his mind, no idea how he’d make it to Friday.

INTRO . CHAPTER 2 (Coming Soon!)

Taglist: @caplanbuckybarnes

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #steve x reader #fic: bucky barnes #fic: steve rogers #writer: writerwrites #steve rogers x reader

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team-free-will-oneshots · 5 years ago

Text

Breaking Point

Title: Breaking Point (part five of the ‘Buried Secrets’ series) Summary: Dean realises exactly how badly he messed up - but you’re not ready to forgive him. When you and Sam get even closer on a hunt, how much of a rift will be driven between you and Dean? Will you ever be able to cross it? Pairing: Sam x Reader, Dean x Reader (fem pronouns) (mostly sam x reader in this part) Warnings: some swearing, Angst™, canon-typical violence, also more angst :( Word Count: 4,811 (its a long one, sorry...)

note; ok so this part is based around 11x07, ‘Plush’ - I stayed somewhat true to canon but ended up tying up the hunt a lot more quickly and easily than the episode for my own convenience lmao. also sam isn’t having the visions from “God” in this series, at least it’s not gonna be brought up bc that’s all just A Lot for me to try and keep track of and i wanna keep focus on the fic plot not canon lol, sorry! anyways hope u enjoy this part!

Part One | Two | Three | Four

Masterlist

It was too bright, and his head hurt. It was almost enough to make him forget the events that had transpired the night prior - almost.

Dean rubbed his tired eyes as he stumbled to the kitchen, brewing a pot of coffee as he bit back a yawn. He poured a cup and stared at the nearly-full pot for a few moments before realising no one was coming to join him. Right - Sam had taken your side.

The anger raging through his veins had burned out long ago, replaced only with a hollow feeling of guilt that made him feel sick to his stomach as his brutal words bounced around the chambers of his mind. The hurt in your eyes was branded into his brain, and he clenched his jaw as he recalled your timid voice, your shaking hands as you fled from him as though you were scared of him.

Scared.

Of him.

As if he could ever hurt you.

But you did, his brain whispered. Dean slammed his mug down on the table, hot coffee splashing onto his hands, the tiny droplets scalding his skin as he swore and shook them off. He clenched his fist midair, bringing it to crash back against the wood of the table. He felt so guilty - why did he feel so guilty? You lied to him, lied to Sam, to Cas, to everyone - and he was the one feeling bad?

But the spark of anger fizzled before it could grow, and he resolved to set his feelings aside, at least for now. He was good at that - avoiding things. It was practically in his Winchester genes to ignore his emotions until they broke him. And he wasn’t at breaking point - not yet, at least.

Dean’s fingers found his phone, and he toyed with it absentmindedly, thumb hovering over your number, and then Sam’s. After staring at it a little longer than he’d have liked to admit, he slipped it back into his pocket. You weren’t coming back - not yet, at least. But even though you were gone, Amara was still a threat. Weird connection to her or not, he needed to find a way to get rid of her.

Assigning his pain to the backseat, Dean hit the books.

---

“Hello, Dean.”

The eldest Winchester started awake, the shape of the book before him sharply imprinted onto his cheek. He rubbed it, wincing his bleary eyes at the discomfort.

“Cas?” he groaned. “What is it?”

“Have you slept?” The angel’s voice was weighed with concern, and Dean rolled his eyes.

“Obviously,” he muttered, wiping the dried spit crusted at the corner of his mouth as he swallowed back the unpleasant taste an unexpected nap always left. “Found anything?”

“Nothing new,” Cas said, glancing around the empty bunker. “Where are Y/N and Sam? Shouldn’t they be helping you research?” he asked disapprovingly, and Dean chuckled dryly.

“I haven’t heard from them in two days,” he said, plastering on a humourless grin. Castiel’s brow creased.

“Are they on a hunt? They could be hurt, we should-”

“No, they’re not on- Y/N’s a witch,” Dean blurted, and Castiel’s eyebrows flitted skywards in surprise.

“A witch?”

“You heard me,” Dean growled, turning back to the books. “She- she used a hex bag on me, so I kicked her out. Sam went after her - texted me, told me not to follow ‘em.”

“That doesn’t sound like Y/N,” Cas remarked, and Dean scoffed.

“Yeah, tell me about it. She said it was to help me, whatever that’s meant to mean,” he muttered. Cas gave him a knowing look, and Dean’s defences shot up.

“What? I’m fine, I don’t need help!” he said angrily, and Cas made a disbelieving sound.

“Right. Of course not. Have you considered that Y/N might just have been worried about you, and really did want to help?” Cas prompted, and Dean rolled his eyes.

“Of course I have, Cas. But that doesn’t justify her lying about being a monster! We’ve known her years, and she never told us the truth!” he exclaimed. Cas hummed disapprovingly.

“Dean, you know that witches aren’t all bad. You just happen to have a great deal of experience weeding out the… bad apples,” he said slowly. “Can you really blame her for keeping it a secret, considering how you’ve reacted?”

Dean’s jaw ticked, and your teary face flashed again into his mind. He wondered how long you’d cried - if Sam had comforted you, like the big softie he was. If you’d thought about him at all the last few days. If you wished he’d reacted differently. ‘Cos god, he was wishing that right about now, too.

“She-she’s dangerous,” Dean protested lamely.

“If you really believed that, you would never have let Sam go after her alone,” Cas reminded him gently, and he couldn’t find the words to argue back. He let his eyes fall on the yellowed paper before him, the fading ink blurring into a meaningless jumble of letters as he struggled to make sense of the mass of emotions tangled amongst his thoughts.

“Why was I so angry?” he asked eventually. “She lied to me, and- and I was so pissed. But now I just… I miss her,” he admitted. Cas offered a tight, sympathetic smile.

“You do have a tendency to lash out when you’re hurt,” he informed the Winchester. “I know that better than most. And it’s understandable that you could feel… betrayed,” Castiel continued slowly, and Dean grunted in agreement.

“Yeah, well, she did lie to me,” he muttered.

“So has Sam. And I, in the past. Don’t be angry, but… you do tend to latch onto small things to push people away. And I know,” Cas interjected as Dean opened his mouth to protest, “this isn’t exactly a tiny secret. But I think that the reason why she kept it was quite clear. The real question is - why did you feel the need to push her away in the first place?”

Dean swallowed hard, hating that the angel was right in his analysis, and hating even more how obvious the answer seemed to him now. Why had he pushed you away, just as you were starting to get close?

The answer came to him as easily as the alphabet. Because he didn’t deserve you. He didn’t deserve your concern, your care, your smiles. And above all, he certainly didn’t deserve your love. He didn’t deserve to be happy with you - he knew he’d only bring you down.

And so, Dean had done what Dean did best - found a means to push you away. To alienate himself from you, so that even if he changed his mind, you wouldn’t want to be with him after the way he had wronged you. So that you could be free of him. And it just so happened that your newly exposed identity as a witch was the perfect excuse to slice a rift between you.

Dean ran his hands over his face as he groaned. “God, Cas, she was just trying to help. She was trying to help me and I was such a fucking dick to her. How do I go back from that?” he asked helplessly, voice cracking as he raised his head to meet Castiel’s eyes. The angel’s face was solemn.

“I’d imagine you start with an apology.”

Dean sighed, mouth half open to speak when his phone vibrated against the table. His jaw fell closed, and he shot Cas a tense look before holding the phone up to his ear.

“Dean,” he muttered.

“Hiya, Dean!” Donna’s cheerful voice greeted. “Look, it could be nothing, but I might have a case for ya…”

---

You glanced up from your book as Sam’s phone vibrated across the room - the youngest Winchester had gone for a walk to clear his head from the seemingly endless lore and news articles the two of you had been picking apart since your hasty departure from the bunker. Sighing, you heaved yourself to your feet, rubbing at your temple absentmindedly as you glanced at the caller ID.

Dean.

Breath catching in your throat, you set your jaw and purposefully declined the call. Thoughts of the eldest Winchester didn’t bring you sadness, not anymore - instead, they fuelled your system with rage. How could he treat you like that, say those things to you after all you’d been through together? You humphed in annoyance, and just as you were about to re-take your seat, the phone began its incessant buzzing once more. Defeated, you held the phone up to your ear, bracing yourself for what was to come.

“Sam’s phone,” you said tersely, and the line fell dead silent.

“Y/N?” Dean asked, voice barely rising above a whisper. You cleared your throat, careful to keep your voice steady as you responded.

“That’s me - the one you kicked out, remember?” you said brightly, though your voice was underlaid with acidic anger that corroded your cheerful tone.

“I remember,” Dean muttered. “Y/N, I-”

The door opened, and you exhaled in relief as you pulled the phone from your ear. “Sam, it’s your brother,” you said stiffly, and Sam quirked an eyebrow before accepting the phone in your extended hand.

“Dean?” he asked in surprise, and you picked up your book again as Sam walked into the bathroom, closing the door while he continued the conversation with his brother. You heard his voice rise in irritation, but after a few more moments, he walked out with a defeated expression.

“Donna needs help on a hunt,” he said apologetically, beginning to gather his things. You jumped up and began to prepare your own, but paused at the confused expression clouding Sam’s face.

“Uh… Dean’s gonna be there. You don’t have to come,” he told you, and you shrugged half-heartedly.

“I feel so cooped up in here, I honestly don’t care. A hunt would do me some good - help me get out some pent up anger,” you explained, and Sam frowned but didn’t object again. “So, what are we looking at?” you asked.

“Uh, Dean said something about a “killer bunny,” Sam said, and you shot him a confused look.

“A what?”

“That’s all he said - it might not even be our kind of thing. I say we go down, give Donna some peace of mind, and if it’s not our kinda gig we let the police take it from there,” he said, and you nodded.

“Yeah. Okay. Let’s hop on down and check out this killer bunny,” you said, smiling cheekily. Sam groaned.

“Really, Y/N?” he asked, though his tone was tinged with amusement. “Puns?”

“Hey, maybe it was an accident - you really ought to stop jumping to conclusions,” you defended, and he rolled his eyes.

“An accident? Yeah, I doubt it - you’re hardly being subtle,” he replied, and you grinned slyly.

“I guess you could even say I’m dangling a carrot in front of your face,” you pressed, and Sam turned to you in exasperation.

“You done?” he asked, despite the smile playing on his features. You grinned.

“Not even close.”

“Well, I’m putting an official ban on rabbit puns for at least the ride down,” Sam said, and you pouted.

“Why?” you whined, and he shot you a playful grin.

“They’re just not bunny.”

---

A pun-filled car ride later, the two of you strode into Donna’s precinct in your FBI getups, where Dean was already waiting for you.

“Sorry if we’re a hare late, traffic was a nightmare,” you greeted, pointedly ignoring Dean as you gave a laughing Donna a hug. Sam rolled his eyes fondly, and you winked at him before your sights fell on Dean. His eyes met yours, and he quickly lowered his gaze, clearing his throat before turning to Donna.

“So, what makes you think this is our kind of thing?” he asked. Donna explained the situation - gruesome murder, and an apprehended perp whose mask refused to budge. You whistled as she finished.

“Well, it’s certainly a hare-raising tail, but I’m not sure it’s our thing,” you said with a mischievous smile. Donna laughed, Sam rolled his eyes affectionately, and Dean tried a tentative smile of his own.

You ignored it.

“Yeah, but if uh, you’ve got a wild hare...” he added playfully. “See what I did there?” Donna laughed again, but you rolled your eyes and acted as though he hadn’t spoken, refusing to even meet his gaze. His heart sank, and the smile fell from his face.

A short while later, Donna led the three of you to the holding cells, where you frowned at the sight before you.

“Any witnesses?” Sam asked, and Donna nodded.

“Ex-wife - thought she was next, but the bunny just up and walked out the door!” she exclaimed.

“You ID him yet?” Dean queried, and Donna shook her head.

“Nope. No wallet, cell… ran his prints, but no prior record. Couldn’t even get our hands on him long enough to check for any identifying marks. Only thing we do know is he’s caucasian, roughly eighteen to twenty-five… and terrifying,” she breathed.

Donna was called away by Officer Stover, leaving the three of you, plus bunny, alone. You frowned, stepping closer and squinting at the bloodied mask.

“Are we sure it’s not just a really committed furry?” you asked slowly. Sam’s brow furrowed.

“What’s a-”

Dean frantically shook his head at his brother. “You don’t wanna know,” he interrupted, and the exaggerated fear in his voice brought a smile to your face. You quickly composed your expression, clearing your throat as Dean stepped forward and threw some mocking quips at the masked figure.

“What, took too much molly? Super-glued your mask to your head? Got paranoid, stabbed a guy? Been there,” he chuckled, and you scoffed. Dean turned around, frowning at your reaction, and the bunny seized the moment of distraction to grab him by the neck and slam him against the bars of the holding cell.

Sam busted out the holy water, to no avail. “Not a demon,” he remarked. You stood to the side, panic flaring in your chest at the sight of Dean struggling. No no no no no!

“Well, he’s strong!” Dean snapped, and Sam grabbed the bunny’s hands, trying to pry them off his brother’s neck. You rubbed your temple, trying to soothe your stress headache and willing yourself to think when it hit you.

“Wait, I’ve got this,” you muttered, pushing Sam back as you took a deep breath and closed your eyes.

“Any time now, Y/N!” Dean pressed.

“Shut it!” you snapped, before thrusting your hands forward. A surge of power had the attacker flying backwards and slamming into the wall. It didn’t seem to faze him - he got to his feet and stood perfectly still, those fake, glassy eyes seeming to stare straight at you. Dean winced, rubbing at his neck. As the adrenaline seeped from your veins, you felt your headache fade away.

“Thanks,” Dean muttered, and you folded your arms, resolutely ignoring him. Meanwhile, Sam’s eyes fell on the bunny’s t-shirt - Minnesota Tech - and the tattoo on his arm - ‘Kylie Forever’.

“Kylie forever,” he mused. “That’ll work.”

It didn’t take you long to compile a list of potential ‘Kylie’s’, and Dean whistled at the length of it. “Alright, Y/N and I will take the first ten. Sam, you can-”

You cleared your throat. “Uh, actually, I’ll go with Sam,” you interjected, and Dean raised his brows in surprise.

“But- but we always team up,” he objected, voice ringing with hurt. You shot him a tight smile.

“Yeah, well I wouldn’t want you to have to swallow your disgust, would I?” you spat, and Dean flinched at your words as the reality of the situation crashed over him. How could he forget?

“Listen, Y/N…” he began, but you shook your head.

“Just… leave it,” you grumbled. “We’ll check in later. C’mon, Sam,” you dismissed, grabbing Sam’s arm and walking away. Sam shot his brother an apologetic shrug, letting you guide him towards the exit.

Dean watched as you left, expelling a deep sigh as he ran his hand over the side of his face before shaking his head to himself. He jumped when Donna’s voice echoed from behind him.

“What’d’ya do to get her knickers all up in a bunch?” she asked, and Dean barked a dry laugh that died on his lips.

“I messed up, is what I did,” he informed her. “Things were good. Great. Better than, even - we were… well, we were about to be somethin’, anyways, but I… said some things I shouldn’t have. And now I dunno if she can forgive me. If I even deserve to be forgiven.”

Donna frowned. “Sounds like you should try apologising, bud. Don’t be afraid to go real sappy, neither, just make sure ya bein’ honest,” she advised, and Dean grunted.

“Yeah, I would if she’d actually talk to me,” he scoffed, and Donna hummed.

“Well, if she needs space, you gotta give it to her,” she said simply. “Can’t expect a girl to give ya a civil conversation if you didn’t give her one to start with, can ya? Piece of advice, though - if ya wanna patch things up, ya betta get in sooner rather than later. She and Sam are lookin’ real chummy,” she said, elbowing him slyly. He frowned.

“Her and Sam? No way. Really?”

Donna whistled. “Oh, yeah. Besta luck,” she said, patting him lightly on the back. “Catch ya later.”

As the blonde left, Dean stood for a moment, stewing in his own overwhelming emotions and chewing on the advice Donna had offered. You clearly wanted your space… and if you really were moving away from him and towards Sam… well, wasn’t pushing you away exactly what he’d wanted in the first place? Wouldn’t it be better for you to be with his kind, thoughtful brother instead of being stuck with… well, whatever kind of a mess Dean himself was?

He sighed, shaking his head and ignoring the hollow aching in his chest as he forced himself back to work. He could deal with this later - he wasn’t at breaking point.

Not yet.

---

It didn’t take long for the puzzle pieces to fall together - once you realised you were dealing with a ghost and managed to piece together a list of the costumes he was attached to, it took near no time at all to sort it out between you, Sam, Dean and Donna. You’d stuck with Sam the whole time, communicating with the others in quick phone calls and texts.

Sam was by your side when you tossed a match on the final costume, watching the fire sear through the fabric and the reeking smoke drift into the air as the ghost of Chester Johnson was eaten up by the tongues of hungry, flickering flames. You exhaled heavily as silence fell across the forest the two of you had found yourselves in, an echoing quiet broken only by the crackling of the fire.

“Well, that’s that,” you murmured. Sam swallowed, nodding.

“Yeah. Nice work.”

A smile sloped your lips. “You too. Now what?”

Sam’s phone buzzed before he could reply, and he tugged it from his pocket, glancing at the screen before his eyes met yours.

“Now we meet up with Dean and Donna,” he said. You were quiet.

“Right. Dean.”

“Y/N… maybe you should listen to what he has to say. It seems like-”

“I can’t, Sam. Not right now, not after he… it’s just too soon,” you mumbled, and Sam offered a tight, sympathetic smile.

“Yeah. I get it. But you can’t stay mad at him forever,” he reminded you. You averted your gaze, eyes cast downwards.

“I know. But… I can’t forget. Not yet.”

Sam’s eyes softened, and he rested his hand soothingly on the curve of your waist. You ignored the stutter of your heart.

“Come on, let’s get back.”

The car ride back to the station was quick to draw the lingering tension between the two of you, replacing it with easy banter and refreshing laughter that still bubbled on your lips as the two of you stumbled into Dean.

“Hey - is it done?” he asked, and Sam nodded.

“Yeah - he’s gone. Everything’s burned,” Sam confirmed, and Dean grinned, clapping his brother on the back.

“Great work, Sammy!”

Sam rolled his eyes. “It’s Sam,” he corrected affectionately, and Dean brushed him off with a nonchalant,

“Pssh.” He turned to you. “Good work, Y/N - you always could handle yourself on a hunt,” he complimented, and the smile died on your lips. Your jaw was taut as you avoided his gaze.

“Yeah. Thanks,” you muttered. As much as a small part of you appreciated that Dean was making somewhat of an effort, the memories of that fateful night weren’t so easily erased. Years of friendship reduced to ashes in a single moment as Dean’s rage sent you packing - the echoes of his words still cut you, and you were yet to determine whether their scars would be permanent. At any rate, you knew you weren’t ready to forgive him. Not yet.

Dean sighed. “Look, Y/N… can we talk?”

You half scoffed, feeling your defensive walls rise as you shook your head. “You didn’t exactly give me the liberty of a discussion the other night, did you?”

Your words came out harsher than you intended, and you felt a flicker of guilt at the hurt in Dean’s eyes that you quickly forced yourself to quell. Dean shook his head in disbelief, the action paired with a sharp intake of breath as your words slammed into him like a brick.

“C’mon, man… I was angry. It was a lot to take in, you can’t expect me to just-”

“Dean,” Sam warned, cutting his brother off before he could raise his voice. Dean took a breath, nodding, and you interrupted him as he opened his mouth to speak.

“Whatever, Dean. I’ll be seeing you.” The words were cold, your tone colder as you spun on your heel, stalking back to the car. Despite the hurt welling in your chest, you found yourself half-hoping that he’d follow you, that he’d properly apologise, that things could go back to some semblance of normal…

But Dean watched as you left, Donna’s words ringing in his head. “If she needs space, you gotta give it to her.” As much as every bone in his body longed to follow you, to hug you and kiss you and whisper the words that would fix everything, he stayed put. There were no magic words, no embraces nor kisses that could fix the mess he had made.

And so, with a heavy heart, he let you leave.

---

The car ride back to the motel was draped with a silence so thick you could have sliced it with a butter knife. You didn’t want to think, not right now, so you busied yourself staring out the window at the scenery, leached navy and grey in the moonlight. The road was quiet at this time - the two of you were alone, your only company the yellow glow of the headlights bouncing back at you from the green road signs you passed.

You could feel another headache coming on, so you popped some aspirin and swallowed them dry. The pills were bitter and powdery as they started to crumble on your tongue, and you winced as you finally got them down. Sam glanced over at you when he heard the crinkle of the aluminium sheet of tablets, but maintained his silence.

When he pulled into the parking lot, you headed to the room in sullen silence. You collapsed onto your bed still fully clothed, kicking off your shoes as you sighed. Your conversation with Dean had left a hollow sensation in your chest you weren’t quite certain how to shake. Glancing over at Sam, you saw him climbing into bed and shooting a concerned glance your way. You met it with a ghost of a smile.

“Do you mind…”

He chuckled. “C’mon,” he invited, nodding to his bed. A breathy laugh fell from your lips as you crawled into his bed, letting him tuck you against his chest. You’d slept beside him every night you’d stayed in the motel thus far - his warm presence helped you drift off better than any of your hex bags ever could. Your magic couldn’t replicate the gentle rise and fall of his chest, nor the patterns his fingers would trace over your spine.

“This is just a mess, isn’t it?” you asked weakly, and felt the sudden sinking of Sam’s torso as he sighed.

“Maybe a little,” he allowed, shooting you a small smile that you instinctively returned.

“I just… I don’t know how to feel. I wish things could just go back to the way they were, but… that’s not going to happen, is it? Not now that he knows,” you whispered. “God, I wish I wasn’t… me. Everything would be so much easier.” Sam fell into a thoughtful silence, and you almost thought he’d fallen asleep until his voice broke the comfortable quiet hanging over the room.

“Things won’t be the same,” he said eventually. “But… maybe that’s not a bad thing. Maybe this is something you needed, something to push you towards…” He trailed off, sighing again as he shook his head. “I dunno. But I don’t think you should just give up on things getting better,” he said. “And you definitely shouldn’t regret being true to yourself. You… God, you’re incredible, Y/N. And if Dean can’t see that, then that’s his loss.”

You smiled at his soothing words, glancing up at him in the darkness. Shadows clung to his skin, highlighting the sharp line of his jaw, the perfect disarray of his hair. He caught you staring and chuckled, the dimples in his cheeks protruding at the action.

“Thanks, Sammy,” you said eventually, and he shook his head, fingers moving to comb through your hair, gently tugging out the knots. You stared at him a moment longer, your lips forming your next words before you’d even realised you’d spoken.

“Why do you let me call you Sammy? You always correct Dean,” you realised, and Sam laughed sheepishly, the sound swallowed by the darkness. He shrugged.

“I dunno. I guess… when Dean says it, I know he’s seeing me as just his kid brother. But when you say it… it feels different. Almost comforting.” He shrugged again, ducking his head in embarrassment. “That probably sounds stupid…”

You shook your head. “No - not at all,” you breathed, breath catching as his eyes flitted to yours. You were vaguely aware that at some point during your conversation your headache had faded, the space it occupied replaced with Sam’s smile, the warmth of his voice, and solid presence of his arms around you.

His proximity seemed to become more apparent as you became aware of your heart thumping against your ribs. If he noticed, he kept it to himself, though you knew there was no way he could miss the sudden hitch in your breathing as he adjusted to nestle you snug against his side. The simple, caring movement unleashed a wave of emotions you’d been fighting to hold back for longer than you cared to admit - feelings you’d bottled up and pushed away, dismissing them as faint impossibilities, distant fantasies that would never see the light of day.

And so, how fitting it was that you found your breaking point under the dark protection of the night.

Before you could stop yourself, your mouth was slanting against his, sleepy and soft and slow. Sam froze beneath you, and you quickly pulled back, but before you could panic he was returning his lips to yours. Your eyes fell closed as his thumb found the side of your face, brushing along your cheekbone as he tilted your chin up to gain better access to your mouth. Sam’s hand wandered to your waist, clutching you close against him as he twisted his neck to deepen the kiss, the press of his mouth on yours a far more important cause than maintaining his own comfort; your smile, captured in the gentle exploration of his lips over yours, made the straining of his muscles worth it.

But as all good things do, the kiss came to an end. You couldn’t keep the smile from your face as you leaned into Sam’s chest, closing your eyes as his lips found your hair, whispering his goodnight into your scalp. But as sleep began to carry you off in her gentle waves, your mind couldn’t help but drift to Dean - in the bunker that felt more than a thousand miles away, the other side of his bed cold but for the empty bottle he was surely nursing. Dean - still sleeping alone.

His tired, green eyes were the last sight your mind conjured, before sleep finally washed you away.

__________

Read part six here!

Buried Secrets tags: @clarinette07 @demonsofhunting @carryon-doctor-lock @coupleofgoons @colie87 @non-exclusive-trash @txnii-hxrdyy @spaghettiwoes

Forever Tags: @babygirloreo @calaofnoldor @lmpala97 @sebastianshoe @81mysteriouslyme @castieliswatchingoverme @spnlovr73 @kina666 @liviaolivia @simplyxparker @helpmeluci @demonsofhunting

Sam tags: @sammys-dimpless

Dean tags: @polina-93 @justagirlinafandomworld @coupleofgoons

If you want to be added to any of my tag lists, let me know!

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sugarandspace · 5 years ago

Note

malec prompt: The hero shows up at the villain’s doorstep one night. They’re shivering, bleeding, scared. There’s also a slightly dazed look in their eyes– they were drugged. They look like they were assaulted. Looking up at the villain, swaying slightly as they’re close to passing out, they mumble “…didn’t know where else to go…” then collapse into the villain’s arms.

Thank you so much for the prompt! As you know, I didn’t go with the hero/villain thing and wrote a canon divergence AU instead! I hope you like this! :)

Behind Enemy Lines

AO3

Warnings: graphic descriptions of violence

It's a rare moment of peace and Alec has decided to take a walk. Well, ‘peace’ might be a wrong word to use since Valentine and Jonathan are still out there and the bridges built between the Downworld and the Shadowhunters are weak and frayed at best, but Alec needs this moment out of the Institute, out of the environment that screams war and helplessness. It’s been two weeks since the secret about the soul sword got out, two weeks since Magnus walked away.

Alec takes in a deep breath and tries not to think about it, which is useless because that seems to be the only thing he’s capable of thinking about lately. How his secrecy had destroyed the best thing he had going on for himself.

He can’t help but wonder how different things would be if they were fighting on the same side. If he’d been honest with Magnus, would they still have the Downworld on their side? Alec is pretty sure they would at least have Magnus.

Alec feels like his old self, a soldier who pushes his emotions out of the way to focus on duty. It’s not as easy as it used to be, now that he knows that there’s an alternative.

Lost in his thoughts, Alec doesn’t even realise that his feet have carried him to Brooklyn. It’s late and he’s on a more remote part of it and there’s no one in sight. He’s just about to turn around when he feels a hand on his shoulder and a sharp pain in his neck.

He pulls out his blade, ready to defend himself, but his fingers feel numb and the weapon clatters to the ground. He’s pushed to a wall of the nearby building, his cheek colliding with the rough brick. There’s a weight on his back, pinning him to a place.

“You want to see what happens to liars?” A male voice says and the person pulls Alec away from the wall only to slam him against it again. “You have a funny concept of transparency Lightwood.”

“I tried -” Alec starts but he’s cut off when the man pulls him away from the wall and throws him on the ground. Alec can’t see clearly, but there are three vaguely human-shaped blurs hovering above him. One of them kicks him on the side. Alec tries to curl into himself but the next kick is aimed at his back, the one following that hitting the back of his head.

Alec groans in pain, tasting blood in his mouth.

“Good luck trying to find your way back to your people,” one of the blurs says, a female voice this time. “It would truly be a shame if someone were to find you while you’re in such a vulnerable state.”

Alec tries to struggle as he feels hands on his body, patting down his clothes until they reach into his jacket pocket. He knows what’s in that pocket. His phone and his stele.

“You had no intention to help us, it’s your turn to feel helpless,” the male voice from earlier says. “I know your kind is a fan of taking trophies whenever they kill one of ours, I feel like this stele will look good on my shelf.”

The people leave, but not before kicking him on the side one more time. One of them steps over Alec’s forearm, stomping so hard the bone gives way underneath it.

Alec howls in pain. He struggles to catch his breath, to focus on the situation rather than the pain. He needs to get up, needs to get to safety. He can’t stay here. Who knows who will find him. Demons? Another group of angry Downworlders? A mundane?

Finding support from the wall next to him, Alec hauls himself into a sitting position. The world around him turns and twists and the pain is making it hard to concentrate. He wants to close his eyes and rest, but there is enough clarity in his mind that he knows that he shouldn’t. Knows that there’s a high chance he wouldn’t open them anymore.

Clenching his jaw tight, Alec stands up on his unsteady feet and starts his slow walk to safety.

-.-.-

Magnus sits down to his armchair with a drink in his hand. It’s been a long day, another one in a line of several long days. He’s grateful for the peace. Having all the warlocks of Brooklyn under his roof had been fun for a while, but as the situation lasted and lasted it was better to find an alternative hiding place for those who didn’t trust their own wards enough.

He’s able to enjoy the peace for roughly a minute before the big loft around him starts feeling lonely and quiet. It’s clearly empty, no sign of company anywhere to be seen.

No mission reports on the table, no bow next to the door. The only jacket draped over the couch is the one Magnus had been wearing earlier. Magnus curses himself for the feelings he still feels.

The distance hasn’t helped, he still finds himself wishing that Alec would walk in from the front door and make everything alright again. But then Magnus remembers the humiliation and betrayal he’d felt when they parted, and he gets angry. Angry at Alec and angry at himself, for not guarding his heart better.

He really should have learned by now.

There’s a knock on the door that brings Magnus out of his thoughts. It didn’t sound like a proper knock though, more like a thump, so he feels for his wards and finds out that the person behind the door is a friend and not a threat. But Magnus is not expecting anyone.

He welcomes the distraction though and gets up. He sets his glass on the table and walks towards the door. When he opens the door, he’s faced with a sight that makes him feel a myriad of emotions at once.

The person behind the door is Alexander. The sight of the man makes Magnus want to close the door to his face because he doesn’t have the mental capacity for this right now. But something’s wrong. Alec looks beaten, his breaths frantic and his clothes dirty. He’s leaning against the wall next to the door, cradling his left arm to his chest. He’s shaking, his clothes look damp, and there’s blood running down the side of his face as well as from the cut on his lip.

“Alexander?” Magnus asks, not an ounce of the anger he felt earlier in his voice. All of that is pushed aside by the wave of worry that’s threatening to drown Magnus.

“…didn’t know where else to go…” Alec says, his words slurring down a little. He’s looking at Magnus but his eyes can’t seem to be able to focus. He coughs, and there are splatters of blood on the wall next to his head.

Magnus is still frozen in shock, but as he sees Alec’s eyes slipping shut and his legs giving in, his arms are there to catch him. Alec goes completely limp in his arms and Magnus reacts immediately. He snaps his fingers to close the door behind Alec and creates a portal, bringing it towards them so it can suck them in. They appear in the bedroom, right next to the bed where Magnus lays Alec down.

He rolls his sleeves and gets to work, scanning Alec’s body with magic to get a clear idea of his injuries. He’s badly beaten, with broken ribs and internal bleeding. His left arm is bruised and broken, and there’s a tranquilizer strong enough to knock out a horse running in his system. It’s not working as strongly as it should now when it’s mixed with angelic blood, but it’s still a small miracle Alec made it this far before falling unconscious.

Magnus doesn’t waste any more time and gets to work, healing the most painful injuries first even though he’s not sure if Alexander can even feel the pain at the moment. There’s a question in his mind brought on by a familiar protectiveness he wishes he didn’t still feel so strongly.

“Who hurt you?”

-.-.-

When Alec wakes up, all he wants to do is go back to sleep. The bed underneath him is soft and the sheets silky against his sore body. He reaches his arm to the side and furrows his brow as he finds the bed next to him empty. That makes him wake up more and he remembers that he shouldn’t even be in this bed.

His heart starts to race and he slowly opens his eyes.

He’s in Magnus’ bedroom, and the room looks exactly the same as it did two weeks ago. Alec doesn’t know why he expected it to have changed. His eyes settle on Magnus who’s sitting on an armchair next to the bed. The first thing Alec realises is that he looks tired, and the second is that it doesn’t make him look any less beautiful.

A strong wave of regret fills his stomach and Alec has to swallow hard before he can speak.

“What happened?”

Because Alec has no idea how he got here. He tries to think hard and the last thing he remembers is that he was taking a walk. Everything after that is unclear.

“You showed up at my door a few hours ago bleeding and drugged,” Magnus says. His tone is impassive and Alec hates it. “I didn’t get much out of you before you passed out.”

Alec knows that there isn’t really anything he could have done differently, but he still feels guilty for showing up in here - for inconveniencing Magnus.

“I’m sorry,” Alec says quietly.

Magnus doesn’t respond. He stands up from the chair and turns his back to Alec. Alec realises that the reason for his fatigue and heavy movements is probably magic depletion and he must have exhausted himself while he was healing Alec.

“I know I have no right to be here,” Alec starts and stands up. He’s still feeling sore and he dreads to think about how bad he had been before Magnus healed him. He’s wearing different clothes than he was when he left the Institute earlier that evening - a soft t-shirt and faded sweatpants. It evokes a feeling he can’t explain - and that he has no room for in this moment - to see that Magnus hasn’t gotten rid of everything Alec left at the loft when they broke up. “I’ll go. Thank you for healing me, you can send the bill to the Institute.”

Alec hates how his own voice sounds, professional and distant. It isn't the voice he usually uses with Magnus, but he feels like he’s not allowed to use that tone anymore. He lost the right when he lied to Magnus.

“Money?” Magnus asks, turning around so fast Alec takes a step back. He looks angry, the glamour long gone from his eyes. “You think I care about money?!”

Alec doesn’t know what to say, stunned from the sudden outburst.

“You almost died, Alexander.” Magnus says and his tone is still harsh. “And you’re treating this like business.”

“How should I treat it then?” Alec asks, his own tone challenging. He doesn’t want to argue, not after Magnus had apparently saved his life, but he can’t just stand there and take everything Magnus is saying.

“Isn’t that what we are?” Alec continues when Magnus doesn’t say anything. “Isn’t that what you’d expect from anyone? Money for the services provided?”

“This is different,” Magnus says, his tone still angry.

“You are right,” Alec says. “We are on different sides, you probably wouldn’t offer your services to an enemy. I’m sorry you had to save me.”

Alec tries to walk past Magnus and leave the loft because this feels awful. It was torture when they weren’t talking, but arguing with Magnus feels a lot worse. He only manages a few steps before Magnus reaches out and takes a hold of his bicep.

“Don’t walk away from me,” Magnus says, his teeth clenched.

Alec laughs. The sound sounds hysterical to his own ears.

“You’re one to talk,” he says as he turns to look at him again. “You walked away from me first.”

The words sting and Alec can see that Magnus reacts to them as well. He just can’t make sense of what the reaction means. When did he stop being able to read Magnus?

“You lied to me,” Magnus says, his hand dropping down and his words no longer angry. The tone he’s using now is cold, laced with the pain of betrayal that still feels fresh.

“I made a mistake,” Alec says quietly, shame filling him. He feels tired, both physically and mentally. “Look, why are we arguing? What is this going to accomplish? Let me leave and I won’t bother you anymore.”

“I don’t want you to feel like you can’t come to me when you need help,” Magnus says, his voice now tired as well. “You could have died if you didn’t come here tonight, and if there is a next time, I don’t want you to try to find help somewhere else, when I’m close by.”

“You shouldn’t need to worry about me anymore,” Alec says quietly.

“I know,” Magnus says weakly. “And I’ve tried to stop. But not a day goes by when I don’t think about you. I can’t hate you. I hate what you did, I truly despise being lied to - but I can’t make my heart hate you.”

“I can’t stop thinking about you either,” Alec admits. “I really am sorry I didn’t tell you about the soul sword. If there were a way to go back in time and change it I would. I thought I was doing what was right, but nothing good has come out of it. I miss you and I can’t stand being on different sides.”

“You said it yourself once, after our differences almost drove us apart at the beginning,” Magnus says quietly. “Relationships take effort. I stand by what I said, I’m ready to put in that effort, if you are too.”

“Yes,” Alec says immediately. “I promise to learn from my mistakes, if you promise to stay when things get difficult.”

“I think I can promise that,” Magnus says, and his lips lift up in a small smile. Alec can’t help but smile back, the first real smile in two weeks. It’s a smile of relief and hope, and Alec can’t quite believe he gets to feel those emotions again.

“Stay for the rest of the night?” Magnus asks. “I couldn’t find your phone so I sent a fire message to Izzy explaining the situation. She knows you’re here.”

Alec nods, walking back to the familiar bed.

It will take a while before they sleep like they used to, limbs tangled together and breath warming skin, but this is a start. A new day will come and they will talk more, trust will be rebuilt and shame will fade. They will build their relationship back to what it was, and they will do it while fighting for the world that is theirs

Not the Downworld or the world of Nephilim, but the Shadow World, a world of individuals who are used to fighting each other when they would be stronger if they fought together. That is not a short distance goal though, and will only be reached with small steps in the right direction.

For now, sleeping in the same bed and being on the same page is enough.

#malec #alec lightwood #magnus bane #shadowhunters #shfanficnexus #my writing #i loved this prompt!!#i gave myself emotions #just a reminder to everyone that prompts are welcome!!#also thank you elle (bytheangell) for the encouragement!!#iheartmalec

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arcanesupern0va · 5 years ago

Text

Rick In The Water; Ch6: Do You Feel It

Summary: Oh shit, we gon' meet Unity. (I had to, come on now.) Also, there's some other stuff, the whole chapter isn't Unity shenanigans, I'm basically using her. OHWELL.

A/N: T H I N G S A R E S T A R T I N G T O G E T S M U T T Y We don't get far, yet, but I couldn't let Faux Rick be the only one to get a piece of Nova. ;D Oh, I think it goes without saying this fic regards canon more along the lines of: "Oh, that's a nice storyline you got there, mind if I just.... take it and rework it for my own silly needs?" I mean, I referenced the pilot and then Morty going to the citadel and COMPLETELY skipped over Rick Potion Number 9. But That's not to say it'll never come back. 😎 CW: Drug use, for sure. Pairing: Rick Sanchez/Reader Word Count: 5564

My ao3

Masterlist

|Ch5: I Wanna Be Yours|

Waking up in the Smith house was bizarre. It had been years since I’d had the pleasure, but these days things were a lot different. I woke up most mornings to Summer flipping through channels while simultaneously nose deep in her phone, most likely already texting Madison. She would always apologize when the volume woke me up, but still every morning the volume would inch up until sleep was impossible. The days would be spent hanging out with Beth if she was free or Rick if he wasn’t being completely moody, which was happening more often than not lately. He assured me he wasn’t upset with me for doing what I had to do to get away from the Rick that kidnapped me, but now and then I would catch him giving me that same unreadable look he gave me the first night I got here.

Another morning, another loud MTV reality show, and I was at my wit's end. I rolled over to give Summer a piece of my mind only to find Rick intently focused on whatever dating show rerun was on.

“The fuck are you watching?” I grumbled, sitting up and rubbing the sleep from my eyes.

“Oh good, you’re awake,” he said, flicking the screen off and standing up. “We’ve got shit to do today in the Blickblarten System.” He disappeared to his garage, Summer replacing him.

“Oh thank god,” she mumbled, plopping back down in her usual place now that Rick had vacated it. She flipped the TV back on, the brazen tones coming from it propelling me from the couch to continue waking up in peace. As I did my business in the bathroom, I flipped through messages from Madi. She was surprisingly silent on the separation front but I suspected that had to do with the fact she was a smart girl. She knew that things at home weren’t… right. Not that she had the best marriage role models between Beth and I. Beth and Jerry weren’t quite as dysfunctional as Ryan and I, but she was still struggling in her own ways. I wished there was something I could do to help her, but short of leaving her husband as well, I was fresh out of good ideas.

An urgent knock on the bathroom door broke me out of my reverie as Rick started shouting on the other side. “Nova, what the fuck, we have shit to do!” He already sounded frustrated so I finished up, flushing the toilet as I flung the door open, hoping to match his frustration. He glared down at me, but his defense quickly crumbled as that unreadable look reemerged. “C-Come on, let's just go already,” he growled, turning away.

“I’m not dressed,” I shouted after him, heading to Jerry’s office to grab my clothes. Beth may have conceded to let me sleep on her couch, but she insisted I let her keep my things somewhere more private. He huffed, leaning against the wall to wait for me. His attitude was starting to get to me this morning, so I took extra care to take just a little bit longer picking out something to wear.

“We-We’re not going to a fucking ball- just pick something and let's go-” he yelled as he barged in impatiently. Still in my underwear and bra, instead of getting embarrassed, I wanted to test the waters after everything that had happened. I stared at him intently as I bent over, picking up my shirt slowly. He watched carefully as I pulled it over my head, pulling it down very slowly to cover the top half of my body. The look he gave me was a little more readable, shifting from the frustration from earlier to one of astonishment. He turned away, his cheeks redder than I’d ever seen them. My attempt to elicit a reaction from him successful, I finished getting ready, pulling on my yoga pants and running shoes and meeting him at the door. He didn’t say a word as he led me to the garage and it seemed, to my dismay, that his frustration had returned, as he climbed into his ship and slammed the door behind him.

“You know, you can’t expect me to just wake up and be ready to go just because you are,” I scolded him as I opened the passenger side door. Before climbing in, I surveyed the garage, looking for our usual companion on these adventures. “Where’s Morty?” I asked, finally climbing into the passenger seat and looking in the back seat.

“He didn’t want to go,” he told me gruffly with a shrug, starting the engine and flying out of the garage.

“Since when do you accept that kind of response from him?” I questioned cautiously. Morty had little to no choice when it came to going anywhere with his grandfather. Panic started to wash over me as memories of the last time a Rick ushered me out of my home without a Morty anywhere to be seen resurfaced. I quickly pressed the spot on the back of my hand, immediately thinking the worst of the Rick next to me. The alarm started blaring on Rick’s arm, and I let out a sigh of relief.

“Don’t worry, it’s really me,” he sighed, disengaging the alarm and glancing over at me. Space was flying by us, offering no real scenery to lose myself in as we sped through.

“Well, you had me fooled,” I shot back at him, “You’ve been acting really weird Rick. What the hell is up with you?”

“N-Nothing,” he denied unconvincingly. “This is just how I am, get used to it.” My eyes narrowed at him in an instant.

“The fuck do you mean this is just how you are? You weren’t like this before the citadel. I thought we went over this, I was trying to get away from that asshole, I wasn’t into him or whatever,” I snarled at him.

“And I thought I told you I didn’t care about that shit Nova,” Rick countered dismissively. “It fucking sucks, but you had to do what you had to do. I can’t blame you for that.”

“Still sure feels like you are though,” I bit back at him coldly. He didn’t respond, outside of pulling out his flask and taking a long drink. “I wish you would just tell me what the fuck is wrong.”

He turned to consider me a moment, trying to stay angry, but it seemed he couldn’t. That same unreadable goddamn stupid ass fucking look covered his face again and I sighed in frustration, conceding I would get nowhere with him today. I was coming to terms with a silent Rick adventure when he abruptly slammed the gear shift into hover mode and pulled me over to him, pushing his lips onto mine desperately. Stunned at first, I quickly recovered and returned his kiss eagerly.

Oh, that makes more sense.

Wasting no time, I mounted his lap as his hands ran up under the back of my shirt. He was kissing me like it was the only way he was going to keep breathing, and I returned his passion twofold. He moved away from my mouth, kissing down my neck only to be stopped the hem of the t-shirt I was wearing. I groaned in frustration, preparing to lock my fingers around the hem to pull it off when I blinding light filled the cab of the spaceship, accompanied by a shrill alarm.

“Rick, what the fuck is happening?” I screamed as the ship started being pulled upward. He let out a frustrated groan, nudging me to move off of him. He took the craft out of hover and tried to fight the pull of the beam to no avail. I covered my ears against the blaring alarm as we were enveloped by a much larger ship. Rick immediately pulled out his portal gun, ready to cut our losses as a loud, almost sultry voice rang out of a speaker to our left, freezing him in his tracks.

“Hey, Rick.”

*+*

“Goddammit Unity, couldn’t you have just sent out a signal or something? You scared the shit out of us,” Rick yelled at the man that had been sent down to greet us. He was tall, with purple and green reptilian skin, but as he helped me out of the ship I was surprised to find him soft to the touch.

“Who’s this?” the man regarded me coldly, and I swore I heard the jealousy in his tone.

“Unity, this Nova,” Rick introduced us hesitantly. “Nova, this is… Unity. They’re a-a hivemind.”

“A hivemind?” I asked, completely confused. “Like The Faculty?”

“Th-The Faculty?” Rick sputtered. “That’s a really old reference, but I mean, sure, kind of?”

“Nova?” Unity asked hesitantly, “The Nova?”

Rick sighed, looking between the two of us. “Yeah, Une, the Nova.” The man’s eyes lit up, grabbing my hand gleefully.

“Oh, I have heard so much about you,” he squealed, dragging me higher up into the ship, leaving a stunned Rick in our wake. “So he finally went back, did he? How long did it take him to finally talk to you when he got back?” Unity asked eagerly, leading me through a small crowd of his people who all turned to smile knowingly at me.

“I-I don’t know what you mean? I saw him on the first day he was back,” I told him. He brought me to what looked like a captain’s cabin of the enormous ship, leaving me with an admittedly attractive female of his species who sat me down on her large bed.

“That’s great! He used to talk about you constantly-” The Unity female continued the conversation seamlessly before Rick barged through the door.

“N-No, Une, stop. D-Don’t- j-just stop talking- to her,” he begged the woman, glaring up at him.

“I will do no such thing, Rick Sanchez,” she chastised him, “I had to listen to you babble about her every night when you got drunk off your ass, so I deserve the chance to actually get to know her. I will give you one thing, she is absolutely gorgeous.” I blushed at the woman’s kind words, smiling meekly up at Rick.

“W-We were in the middle of s-something you know, wh-when you interrupted.” His eyes flitted to me desperately, but I had no help I could offer him. I was too curious about Unity. “You could’ve sent out a friendly message or something.” He was getting more and more flustered by the minute, trying his hardest to stop any conversation between Unity and me.

“I did Rick, you didn’t answer,” she said, furrowing her brow, “I wasn’t even sure it was you so I figured it was either you or a new member of my family. Win-Win. But I definitely wasn’t expecting her.” Unity eyed me again, seeming to want to commit me to memory.

“Y-Yeah, well you’ve met her,” Rick smiled hesitantly. “N-Now come on Nova, we have to be getting to Blickbarten System. It was nice seeing you Une.”

“You’ll do nothing of the sort,” Unity said calmly, standing up to confront him. “Stay for a while, there’s no need to rush.”

“Y-Yeah there is,” he insisted, grabbing my arm to pull me out of there.

“We have fractal dust,” she told him, a smirk playing on her face when he stopped, dropping my wrist and turning back to her. “Stay, hang out for a while.”

“N-Nova, you’ll be alright with Unity, a-alright? It-It’s been years since I’ve been able to get my hands on some fractal dust.” His eyes lit up with excitement as Unity gently pulled me back onto the bed with her and another of her species entered and led Rick down a small spiral staircase.

“Relax Nova, Rick’s just downstairs,” Unity smiled calmly.

“O-Okay.” I tried willing myself to relax at Unity’s request.

It wasn’t working.

“So. Nova. Tell me about yourself,” Unity asked curiously like this was a slumber party and I was the new kid in town.

“I-I’ve known Rick since I was a kid,” I stammered, “I’m not that interesting.”

“I’m sure he’d beg to disagree,” she smirked wickedly.

“I’m a lot more interested in you though, how do you know Rick?” I asked her, desperate to change the topic to anything but me.

“We dated- briefly,” she explained simply, “He was incredible, but I had aspirations, I wanted to take over a nice planet and really settle down.”

“Th-That’s nice,” I offered nervously. For how curious I was about her, any questions I wanted to ask her had turned into mush in my brain. “I-Is that why you broke up?”

“Not necessarily. He also wouldn’t shut the hell up about you!” Her tone briefly became manic before she cleared her throat delicately and continued. “I-I mean, how’s a hivemind supposed to feel wanted when the object of their affection is clearly hung up on someone else!?” she lamented bitterly, “Nothing against you sweetheart, it hurt back then, but I’m okay now,” she assured me with a pat on my back.

“O-Okay,” I sputtered.

“So are you guys a thing? Or are you still in that awkward phase of will they won’t they or something?” she asked as she stood up, fluffing her hair in the mirror.

“I- uh- we’re not really anything as far as I know.” It was my turn to be flustered.

“You mean to tell me that ‘something’ you were in the middle of wasn’t a hot bout of grandpa fuckin’?” She turned and giggled at me, causing my face to go completely red.

“N-N-No!” I denied loudly, “I-I mean, we kissed, b-b-but we did-didn’t f-fu-”

“Fuck sweetie, you can say it,” she said condescendingly as she returned to her mirror to apply her lipstick. “So if you guys aren’t a thing, you mind if I hit it on a rebound? He is looking a lot better than I remembered.”

“I-I, I mean, that’s really up to him.” I was floored at her request, and a part of my mind was screaming at me to shut the fuck up, to tell her no, but she grinned at my ‘permission’, turning to face me again.

“Oh goodie, I know he can’t resist me,” she smiled smugly, spritzing herself with a bottle of perfume from her vanity. “You want me to send one of me of your preferred gender up for you to have fun with? No judgment sweetheart.”

“I-Uh, no, that’s okay. Th-Thanks,” I assured her. She shrugged, turning away and leaving me alone in her room.

+Rick+

Jesus fucking christ, fucking Unity.

Of all the times for my past to come back to haunt me, why did it have to be now? I finally decide to make my move and she just has to come through with the cockblock. I could still feel Nova’s skin, her weight, hell, her scent as she mounted me. Fuck, I could’ve blown my load right there. Now Nova was up there gossiping with my ex about god knows what embarrassing shit. She just had to have fractal dust on hand, didn’t she? I hadn’t had that since the last time I was with her. It was probably the only thing that would’ve gotten me to leave Nova there with her.

A male Unity led me to a small lounge where another of her subjects had lines set up for me, ready to go. My mouth was watering as I sat down on the uncomfortably plush couch, leaning forward and doing a line. The world swirled around me as the husks Unity was possessing surrounded me, a hot Redhead, a guy with blue hair and the guy that initially greeted us took their own hits. I sunk back into the couch, letting the effects of the drug overtake my body, grateful for the feeling of release I was finally getting. It felt like my body was truly starting to relax

“Hey, Rick,” a sultry voice came from beside me. I struggled to turn my head, but when it finally moved, I was surprised to see the Captain Unity husk eyeing me like she was ready to eat me alive.

“H-Hey Une, where’s Nova?” I asked lazily, turning my head back to the ceiling to watch as the dots on the ceiling danced around above me.

“She’s fine, Rick. She wanted me to come and check on you.” She dragged her fingers up and down my chest as she spoke, sending shivers down my spine.

“Did she now?” I asked with a smile. That’s my Nova, always trying to take care of me. I smiled to myself as thoughts of Nova seemed to come to life in front of me. Images of her bringing me coffee first thing in the morning, even memories I’d concocted of my own, like her draping a blanket over me when I’d passed out at my workbench. She was too good to me. Unity watched me as I reminisced, continuing to walk her fingers over me. My mind warped Captain Unity into Nova, and I allowed her to bring her hand up under my shirt. Her touch was sending more chills through my entire body.

“Oh, Nova,” I murmured, looking over at her. She smiled uncomfortably at me but didn’t stop touching me. I guided her over to me, bringing her to rest on my lap as she closed the gap between us, kissing me with the same rough passion from earlier. I brought my hands up, pushing her shirt up to feel the delicate muscles in her back as she moved on top of me.

“You wanna do another line?” Nova whispered against my ear, before leaning over to grab the tray from the table in front of us. I nodded quickly, grabbing the bill I had used earlier. This hit instilled euphoria in me and as soon as she sat the tray safely back on the table, I picked her up and rested her back on the couch. I tugged her shirt up over her head, tossing it away from us as I eagerly returned to her chest. Her bra still stood between us, and as buried my face in her hair and reached around her back for the clasp, I finally started noticing something was wrong. I pulled away, realizing Nova smelled an awful lot like the cheap perfume Unity used to always wear when we were together. I blinked repeatedly until the Nova in front of me turned back into the Captain Unity she truly was.

“Unity? What the fuck are you doing?” I recoiled back from her, grabbing her shirt and throwing it back at her.

“You can call me by her name if you want. I don’t mind,” she pleaded, crawling over the couch to me and grabbing the lapels of my lab coat. “I’ve never minded, I swear,” she murmured in my ear

“Ugh, no. Stop. Get away from me.” I pushed her back onto the couch. My adrenaline was lessening the effects of the fractal dust as the different husks around me glared at me sadly. “Where’s Nova?” I asked sharply, wiping the leftover saliva away from my mouth.

“Sh-She’s upstairs,” Captain Unity relented, pointing to the stairs to her room pitifully. I stormed up to find Nova, pulling my flask out in an attempt to get the taste of Unity out of my mouth. I burst through the door to find Nova sitting sadly on the bed, looking very unsure of how she even got there in the first place.

“C-Come on Nova, we’ve gotta go,” I growled, grabbing her hand and leaving the room.

“R-Rick? What happened?” she asked fearfully as I pulled her behind me, ignoring all of the Unity husks approaching me.

“We’ve gotta get the fuck outta here,” I seethed, “I knew staying here was a bad fucking idea.”

“Wh-what happened?”

“L-Look, I’ll explain once we’re far away from here, okay?” My head was still spinning when we finally made it to the ship and I hesitated by the driver’s side door. “You can drive a stick, right? It’s not that hard, I’m just- I’m rollin’ pretty fucking hard and I’m gonna need you to fly us out of here.”

“I-I can try,” she swallowed her fear as I boosted her into my seat before making my way around to the passenger seat. The engine started, but the bay door beneath us didn’t open.

“Unity, open this fucking door!” I roared, rolling down the window.

“Come on Rick! Just stay for a little while!” the blue-haired Unity asked desperately, “It could be like old times!”

“N-Now!” I shouted viciously. The blue-haired Unity hung his head, opening the bay door, allowing us to fall through. “A-Alright, Nova, listen to me.” I directed her through the basics of flying as we lazily fell through space. She caught on quickly, rocketing us out into the expanse of space. Once Unity’s ship had disappeared behind us, she slowed, shifting into hover mode.

“You wanna explain to me what the fuck that was all about?” she asked eyes narrowed as she turned to me.

“Wh-What the fuck did you say to Unity?” I shot back at her.

“Nothing!” she exclaimed, “She was asking if w-we were a th-thing and I told her no!”

“Anything else?” I pressed, “Anything that would explain why she came down and hopped on my lap?” I lied. She didn’t need to know all the details and I likely wouldn’t remember them for much longer anyway.

“She asked if I minded if she tried to hit that on the rebound. I-I told her that it would be up to you,” she revealed shamefully, “What. Happened?”

“Well, she did try. She went with the tried and true method of getting me really fucking high and trying to jump my bones,” I told her, disgusted with Unity for being so goddamn brazen.

“D-did you guys-”

“No!” I stopped her. “I realized- I stopped her.”

Shit.

“What did you realize Rick?” She pressed.

The fractal dust still in my system was back in full effect now that I wasn’t pumping through adrenaline and I couldn’t stop myself from continuing. “I realized she wasn’t you, okay?”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.”

“Look Rick, that kiss-”

“Nova, if you’re about to tell me it doesn’t have to mean anything then you haven’t been paying attention to anything that’s been happening,” I told her flatly, not letting her finish.

“B-But, Unity-”

I stopped her this time with a kiss, unwilling to hear another word about what she thought I wanted. I couldn’t believe I didn’t realize it wasn’t her sooner, just by the taste of her mouth. Nova was warm and comforting where Unity had been cold. I’d chalk it up now to be the reptilian life form she had been inhabiting, but I still couldn’t believe it hadn’t been a dead giveaway. Nova crossed the cab again, resting in my lap. I made quick work of her top, tossing it back into the seat next to me. Her skin was soft against my lips as I traced around the curves of her breasts. She tilted her head back, moaning from my touch.

“Rick,” she hissed as I bit her gently. Her hips gyrated slowly against me, and I couldn’t stop myself as I brought my hands up to her breasts. I had to take a deep breath to stop myself from ravaging her right here in this ship. As I paused, she took control, tilting forward again to find my neck. She nibbled gently, and a shudder shook my entire body as my hand tightened around her breast.

“Ship, recline the passenger seat and remove armrests,” I ordered, my voice shaky. It repeated my order back to me and I flipped Nova over, resting her beneath me. Looking down at her like this, it was intoxicating in a way I never thought possible. She was looking up at me full of desire and lust, making my head spin. She looked hesitant, however, and withdrew slightly, giving her some space.

“Rick, please don’t be mad, I want this, I want you, but not here. N-Not like this,” she pleaded softly.

“Of course Nova,” I panted, returning to the driver seat and tossing her shirt back to her. My head was still spinning, in part from the drugs, but also her words. Words I’d been longing to hear for months.

“I want you.”

+Nova+

“We should still probably head to the Blickblarten System,” Rick told me, his voice still husky. I nodded in agreeance as he shifted out of hover and headed there. He still seemed lost in his own thoughts, but he was different from before, no longer as cold and distant, instead, he was far more inclined to even look at me again. The silence allowed me to slip into my own head.

Unity going after him, not a huge surprise but him resisting her while completely out of his mind? That was a different story. I’d seen how Ricks could get about their Novas, but I guess a part of me never expected it to be reflected in my Rick. I should’ve expected it though, considering what Rick W-236 had said about him.

“Your Rick is considered the Rogue Rick, rash and emotional.”

We landed on yet another vibrant planet, but where the last one had been mostly plant life, this one was filled with a bustling city. Tall skyscrapers lived up to their names, bearing logos in foreign languages. We parked the ship next to one of the large skyscrapers, Rick assuring me the walk would be worth it if it meant we had a ship to return to. Rick took my hand, leading me quickly through the city until we reached a seedier part of town.

“Stay close to me,” he murmured, tightening his grip on my hand.

“Rick, where are we?” I whispered nervously, as a creature with a bulbous head eyed me lecherously.

“This is Shingrap,” he explained, “I know a guy here, it should only take a minute.” He also seemed to have spotted the lecherous creature because he pulled out his pistol with his free hand and pulled me closer. We approached a burnt-out building and I stopped in front, eyeing it hesitantly. “Nova, it’s going to be okay, come on. Let’s get this over with,” Rick urged, watching behind us. The bulbous headed creature had been joined by his friend, edging ever closer toward us. Once we were safely in the building, Rick released my hand and sealed the door behind us. I tried to follow him as he climbed the stairs two to three at a time but my legs were nowhere near as long. He stopped a couple of flights ahead of me, leaning over the railing with a huff.

“I’m sorry my legs aren’t the length of my body?” I shot up at him as he glared down at me, smirking.

“Just hurry up Nova,” he sighed, leaning against the railing to wait. I caught up to him and he slowed his pace to allow me to keep up. We finally reached the top floor, both of us panting from the extreme amount of exercise. He knocked on the door in a specific pattern, very reminiscent of the knock Beth and I used for each other. A rusted peeker opened to reveal a very angry pair of eyes. They calmed at the sight of Rick and me and the door was pulled open to reveal…

Another fucking Rick. Jesus fucking christ.

“Another one? Aren’t you friends with anyone but yourself?” I asked darkly as this new Rick welcomed us across his threshold, eyeing me with that same wistful gaze Riq IV had for me. He was dressed in military garb, a deep gash marring his right eye.

“Ah, you have yourself a Nova,” he remarked, “You’re a lucky son of a bitch.”

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s just do our business so I can get out of here.” Rick directed me behind him, away from Scar Rick.

“N-No, it’s been years since I’ve seen a Nova. Come out here where I can see you, sweetheart. I’m not going to hurt you,” he insisted. Rick sighed, guiding me out from behind him for Scar to see. I blushed as Scar’s eyes coated me with bitter longing before Rick tucked me back behind him while he conducted his business. Scar gave Rick what looked like a wad of Monopoly money before Rick pulled a large crystal from god knows where in his lab coat before nodding and turning to leave. Scar was still watching me as Rick grabbed my hand. “W-Wait,” he stopped us.

“What do you want now?” Rick sighed impatiently.

“C-Can I talk to Nova for a moment? J-Just a moment, that’s all I ask,” Scar urged carefully, watching my Rick’s response. Rick didn’t respond, instead, he turned to me to indicate the decision was up to me.

“Wh-What’s up?” I inquired nervously as I approached him.

“I-I lost my Nova when we formed the Citadel,” he explained, “The federation kidnapped her to try to get information out of her and-” his voice hitched for a moment, and I knew what he needed. I wrapped my arms around the broken man in front of me. He gripped me tightly, burying his face in my hair as he sobbed gently. When we broke apart, he thanked me and I nodded. I returned to my Rick’s side, clasping his hand in mine as he opened a portal in front of us. Scar watched us through watery eyes as we disappeared on the other side.

“So why exactly couldn’t we have just portaled there from the get-go?” I asked irritably.

The portal dropped us next to the car. Rick climbed in, counting his monopoly money looking satisfied. “That was a Rick? You can’t just portal into a Rick in hiding’s safe house,” he explained, pocketing the money with one of his damn, know-it-all smirks. “You wanna go somewhere fun now?” he asked his smirk widening into a grin. I nodded hesitantly as he lifted off, rocketing away from the planet.

“That poor Rick,” I commented mournfully as he navigated. He glanced over at me, raising an eyebrow before shaking his head and smiling.

“You know why Ricks and Novas get along so well?” I shook my head, eager for him to continue. “Where a Morty is an IQ Cloak, Novas- well Novas offer a balance to a Ricks mental state. Y-Y-Y-You see, a Rick's mental state fluctuates between ‘I am a fucking GOD’ to ‘Everything is pointless’. A Nova offers a balance to that. It doesn’t always w-work, but with how even-tempered and rational Novas can be… i-i-it just works out. D-Does that make any fucking sense?” he finished nervously.

“I think so, Rick,” I smiled, resting my hand on his.

“Th-That’s why Ricks are so attached. It’s a chemical thing. I-I know I can be… difficult-”

“To say the least.”

“BUT, it’s why I have such a hard time leaving you alone.”

“R-Rick, I don’t know what to do about Ryan,” I admitted softly, “I don’t love him, I haven’t loved him in a very long time but... what if that’s what causes his rage to break? I don’t want to push the limits.”

“Nova, just let me kill him. I want to do it. It would be a fucking honor,” Rick assured me darkly.

“No Rick…”

“What I’m hearing here is, yes, Rick, do it, Rick, I won’t be mad if you do, Rick,” he grinned slyly.

“Seriously, there’s got to be another way,” I shoved him gently.

“There really isn’t one,” he told me regretfully, “Either you leave him and it doesn’t make him snap or it does. If he doesn’t, he gets to live his life as a docile little bird, or he dies. It’s that simple. Fortunately, it doesn’t seem like there have been any problems yet.”

“Yeeaahh, about that,” I drew out nervously. He took a deep breath, before raising his eyebrows at me, waiting for me to continue. “Th-The night that he kicked me out, he was asking me to stop hanging out around you because I told him we’d had a bad adventure-”

“That’s putting it lightly.”

“I told him we’d had a bad adventure,” I pressed on through his interruption, “and I told him, no, I liked hanging out with you and I think, even if only for a minute, his rage broke. He looked furious. Like he was going to kill me.”

Rick was quiet for a moment, considering my words. “Nova, don’t go home,” he told me, deathly serious.

“I’m going to have to see him again eventually,” I insisted, “There’s Madi to consider to ya know.”

“We’ll get Madi when she comes home, Summer will like having her BFF living with her,” he rationalized. “I’m serious Nova. When that dampener snaps- think of it like a bridge. A-all of that rage is going to flood out like fucking ocean.” He frantically ran his hand through his hair as he tried to contain his panic. His eyes lit up though, as a billboard appeared on a small dwarf planet. “Oh shit, we’re here!” he exclaimed, all previous panic seemingly erased.

“We’re… where?”

“BLIPS AND CHITZ!”

+Ch7: Shameful Metaphors+

#rick and morty #rick and morty fanfiction #rick sanchez x reader #rick sanchez/reader

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sasspiria · 5 years ago

Text

(The Odds Of This Are) Astronomical - Chapter Eight

Fandom: Far Cry 3

Pairing: Jason Brody/Vaas Montenegro (Vaason)

Tags/warnings:Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence,Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics,True Mates,Alpha Vaas,Omega Jason,Biting,Grant Lives,Accidental Bonding,Angst and Porn,Porn With Plot,Scenting,Rough Body Play,Don't Examine This Too Closely,Canon-Typical Violence,Intercrural Sex,Claiming Bites,Snowballing,Deepthroating,Excessive Drinking,Buck Being Creepy,Knotting

Summary: SummaryOmegas were uncommon but they weren't rare by any means. True mates, however, were an entirely different story. The odds of any person having one were astronomical at best. When Jason finds that he does have a true mate, he should feel amazing about being so lucky. A part of him wants to feel excited, damn all the consequences, but at the same time it just feels like the universe is giving him a hard smack to the face when his true alpha comes in the form in a psychopathic, murdering, drug addled pirate that kidnapped him and his friends. All Jason can hope is that he can use Vaas' manic affections towards him to his advantage and save the rest of them.

((read below the cut or on ao3 here))

By the time that Vaas came back to their cabin, Jason was huddled beneath whatever blankets that they had. He was shaking like a leaf, sweating profusely as he whimpered out Vaas’ name. The alpha cursed to himself underneath his breath, feeling like he had already devastatingly fucked up with Jason. He hadn’t expected Jason to go through a heat – at least not so soon. Didn’t American omegas load themselves up with drugs, blockers and suppressants, so that they didn’t need to deal with this shit every month or so?

Vaas didn’t really have the time to mull any of this over though, as Jason’s situation was dire enough that it took up all of his attention. The omega in front of him was weak and exhausted looking, tossing and turning on the mattress in a quiet fit. He pulled the blankets off of Jason, sitting the other up before he moved to less than gently peel his clothes off of him. Once Jason was completely naked, he stripped himself down and carried the omega off to a private, rudimentary shower.

He turned the water on and lay Jason down on his chest, hoping that the chill of the water would be enough to bring the omegas’ temperature down to something normal. It only took a few minutes of sitting there with him until Jason was jostled out of the feverish state that he had been put in. He looked around the room and blinked a few times in confusion as he registered what was happening around him, “Vaas?” He exclaimed in a lost tone of voice. “What’s going on, what are you- what are we doing here?” He gestured around the room with a sweeping gesture of his arm.

“Why didn’t you tell me that you were gonna be going through your heat, huh?” He playfully smacked Jason’s cheek, “What if I didn’t get back here for you? Huh, Jason, what would you have done then?” He snapped at the omega, true concern seeping out of him, even as he gripped Jasons’ hip in a less than gentle manner and repeatedly asked him what the fuck was wrong with him.

“It wasn’t supposed to!” He argued back, tone full of indignant anger. “I got an implant right before I left for Taiwan.” He pushed his forearm in Vaas’ face, pointing towards where the small dermal implant was still embedded in his skin. “I don’t know why this happened. Maybe it’s defective. With my luck, it probably is.” He answered honestly. “I thought that… well, I don’t really know what I thought was happening but this was the last thing to come to mind for me.”

He might have expected Vaas to be angry with him, or at the very least annoyed that he couldn’t keep up with his own body and even though he wasn’t entirely surprised by the bout of cackling that Vaas broke into, it didn’t stop him from glaring daggers at his partner. “What?” He snapped at the alpha, sliding away from him so that he could get a little bit more space to breathe and think about where he was, both physically and emotionally. The cold water helped him center himself, made him feel less like he had water on the brain.

It took a few minutes for his laughter to tone down until he could actually speak, “Hermano, Jason, Mi Amante… you can be so fucking stupid I swear.” He responded quickly before he dove into kiss him in a rough, possessive manner. “But it’s okay, I got you now, I’ll help you through this.” He hummed into Jason’s ear, before kissing him again.

“Whatever asshole.” He grumbled to himself after he pulled away from the contact. Vaas gently tugged at his arm to pull him in closer. He put forth effort not to laugh as Vaas kept trying to pull him backwards where he was still sitting under the water. “You know what? Actually I blame you for this. Somehow this is all your fault.” He stated, more out of spite then anything else. It wasn’t totally unrealistic that bonding with Vaas might have messed with his hormones and suddenly triggered a heat in him. It wasn’t a common occurrence but it wasn’t unheard of.

He was pulled back one more time and toppled over until he was precariously perched against Vaas’ hip, this time he decided not to pull away. Vaas kept giving him attention and his icy, overstimulated mood melted away into something softer. He rested his head against the alpha’s chest tiredly and listened to the rambunctious sound of his heartbeat He could hear distantly through the fog that was reassembling within his mind and clouding his thoughts, Vaas asking him if he was feeling better now.

“I’m…” He trailed off, not really knowing how he should answer. He didn’t think that he was ‘okay’, but going through this never felt ‘okay’ for him at the start. Heats, for him, were always a jarring experience. Even when he had someone to share them with, he didn’t like how out of control and weak that they had him feeling. In the end he ended up settling on,“I need you.” Because that was something the two of them could easily understand.

Hoyt’s fingers drummed in agitation against the glass of brandy in his hand. Things hadn’t been going as well for him in the past few weeks – one of the hostages had escaped and kept trying to disrupt his operations. He had lost hostages, radio towers and outposts on a near constant basis since he had arrived on the island. He might have been impressed, if it hadn’t already started affecting his bottom line.

When Hoyt had first arrived on the Rook islands and set up his business, smuggling and trafficking out tourists and natives, he had implemented a system to keep generating product and workers for him. He had men scope out potential hostages at clubs and bars in Bangkok – stupid, privileged children that were too naive to notice the red flags when they agreed on tours, or skydiving lessons or work opportunities.

Then the pirates under Vaas’ control would terrorize them into submission – or kill them if they made too much trouble – until Hoyt had the opportunity to send some of his privateers to take them to whoever was going to buy them from him. And if one of the hostages got away, they never got far. For the longest time, this system that he had had worked out with no failure and very little problems – he had an iron grip on the islands and the natives were forced to either keep their heads down or join ranks with him.

He was not too happy having his system disrupted and that was why he had called Buck up. Buck was a friend to him – had been for a long time – as well as one of his highest ranking privateers, and he knew well what a psychopath that the man was. But that was just what he needed right now, someone willing to get everything done without any second thought. Vaas was incredibly useful to him, but he was erratic and emotional, not very good at luring someone into a trap. And besides, he was usually busy keeping the northern islands more or less stable.

Buck’s maniacal grin doubled, stretching across his face in a glib sort of way as Hoyt downed his third or fourth drink since they had sat down together. The man was on edge, the kind of edge that only came when you had not experienced failure on a large scale before. If Buck was a different person, he might have worried about setting Hoyt off even further, but he had no fear and spoke to Hoyt evenly and without fear of retribution. He asked Hoyt what he knew of the man, “Snow White,” the natives and certain pirates had started calling him.

Rumors circulated around the Rook islands about the man, about this Snow White – how he was liberating the island piece by piece, allowing the natives to recover their homeland and live free from fear for the first time in twenty years. No wonder Hoyt was worried, he thought, if any of those rumors held any water, he’d be coming to the southern islands soon, coming for him personally.

Hoyt shook his head, “The only thing I know is that, whoever this little piece of filth is, they want their little friends back. That’s their weakness.” He explained, leaning in a bit with a conspiratorial edge to his voice. “He’ll be coming to you soon, for the boy you bought off from me.” He added, “And when that happens, I’ll need you to take care of him.”

“If he looks anything like that pretty omega that Vaas bought from that group, then I’ll be happy to take care of him.” The Australian responded with a harsh laugh, thinking fondly on his meeting with the omega. What was his name again? Jensen? No. Jason, that was right.

Jason had peaked his interest in a way that no other omega had before – when omegas usually bored them with their sweetness and gentility, Jason’s mean spirited and erratic nature had drawn him in. If it hadn’t been for the fact that he had already been claimed by Vaas, he might have lured the omega down into his home and had him keep his other boy company. He hadn’t had that opportunity though, so maybe he should just try his luck with Snow White. *** Back on the other side of the islands, Vaas and Jason were just getting into the swing of things with Jason’s heat. The two of them had quarantined themselves off in their room so as to avoid any unnecessary interruptions from pirates or natives or who the fuck ever thought that they had the right to run in and interrupt them. The only one of the pirates with any access to them was Carlos, as he was the only one that Vaas trusted enough not to try and jump his omega on sight – and he was only allowed to enter every few hours and bring them food, water and other things that they might have needed.

Jason had stripped down naked hours ago and kept himself that way – his skin was still heated in an ever present sort of way, so he did as much as he could to keep himself cool – and Vaas had done much the same. The two of them were settled down on a mattress, Vaas gripping Jason’s hip in a vice like grip as the two of them slept together.

Of the two of them, Jason was the first of them to wake up. He shimmied his way out of the other’s arms with no small amount of effort on his part and bounded over to the shower to cool his skin down. He stood under the freezing cold water for a few minutes, until he felt more or less normal again. Once he was out of the space and somewhat dried off, Jason sighed and crawled back over to Vaas and straddled the alpha’s hips before leaning down and kissing down the side of his face to wake him up.

In moments, Jason found himself pushed back onto the ground with Vaas climbing on top of him and peppering his face with kisses until Jason was left a giggling mess. He batted away at the alpha with his hands for a few minutes before he gave into the affectionate contact and settled for antagonistically kissing him back in earnest. He felt himself being pulled back onto the mattress while Vaas continued groping and kissing him everywhere and anywhere that he could get his hands and mouth on.

His mind was getting fuzzy again, he thought, and he needed Vaas to stop kissing him and start fucking him within the minute. Jason pushed at Vaas’ chest to get some distance between the two of them before he broke off the kiss before he pushed himself up so that he was sitting on his knees.

He lost sense of himself just then and made a few small, helpless noises as he tried to figure out how to ask for what he wanted without embarrassing himself in front of the alpha or falling flat on his face before he could say anything at all, literally. He felt Vaas squeezing his hip in a tender and comforting sort of way and that drew him back to reality. He let out a shaky breath and explained what he needed, that he needed Vaas fucking him and he needed that right then. He pulled Vaas’ face towards his own and kissed him hard on the mouth as he moved to sit on the alphas’ lap. He kept kissing him as the two of them ground their cocks together until they were both hard and aroused.

He felt Vaas’ fingers dip inside of Jason’s entrance, gently thrusting into them as they kept on kissing. When they pulled apart from the kiss, Jason was leaking slick and mewling quietly. The alpha steadied him gently and asked if he was alright. “’S just overwhelming.” He explained in a small and timid voice. Vaas grabbed a hold of his dick and held it steady as Jason moved to ease it inside of himself.

Almost immediately, Jason felt a sense of relief at having his alpha inside him, fucking him slowly and purposefully. It didn’t take him long to cum, his heat had him already in an almost near constant state of being on the edge of an orgasm. He slumped over after he came and Vaas moved them so that Jason was on his stomach with his legs pressed together as the alpha took over and fucked him hard.

The omega sighed and allowed himself to go along with the motions of it, allow himself the pleasure of being fucked until the alpha came, his cock swelling inside of him and locking the two of them together. He finally felt good, like he was a whole person again and not like some brain-rotted omega that couldn’t stand to think of anything more than being knotted. Vaas was laying on top him and they were locked together by his knot when he fell asleep, utterly content with himself.

He slept for a few hours at least, when he woke up again, the room was distinctly chillier – Jason guessed that it must have been dusk already – and Vaas was across the room putting his pants on. “You going somewhere?” He asked as he pulled himself up into a sitting position, cocking his head curiously at the man.

“Some of my boys took down a fucking cruise ship,” He explained, “I’m gonna go see what those rich fucks had on board. Don’t worry, I’m not dealing with slaves right now, they can handle a few pussy ass trust fund kids themselves. I won’t be gone long.”

“Okay, bring back something nice.” He hummed, not really thinking of anything else to say. So Jason was alone again and he didn’t like being alone when he was like this so he immediately looked around to find something to occupy himself with. Luckily, Vaas had an old, beaten up TV and a collection of movies of all genres recorded on VHS tapes.

He seemed to have everything from Cinderella to The Texas Chainsaw Massacre tucked away in a few cardboard boxes. He wondered if Vaas had a lot of moments where these came in handy. When he was strung out on something and could barely get himself off of the floor, he’s sure they came in handy for him then, just like they came in handy for him now. Jason crawled forward and dug through the boxes, pulling out a heavy, emotional looking drama from the bottom of the box.

He put the movie in and settled down on his stomach, lazily watching every half-baked plot line that the film haphazardly threw at him. When Vaas returned to the room, he settled down next to Jason and took to less than gently pressing kisses at his neck and shoulders. “What’d you put on?” He asked, in between kisses and light nips of teeth.

Jason laughed, “Fuck if I know. I just grabbed something.” He replied lazily, allowing himself to be coaxed into a state of relaxation by a man that usually had solely the opposite effect on everybody else that he came into contact with.

Despite the fact that the culture of the islands had changed a bit since he had been working on liberating them, Bad Town was still a filthy cesspool filled with murderers, trafficked prostitutes, gambling dens and just generally all sorts of violence going on.

Maybe that was just what it was always going to be like, Grant couldn’t be sure, but it was probably a good thing that it stayed just the way it was. At least for now. He didn’t want Buck being scared away from the town before Grant could get a hold of him and find out where Keith was.

He walked through the bar, curiously gazing around for someone that seemed out of place – he doubted that one of Hoyt’s privateers was a local, after all. He was interrupted from his (hopefully) low key sleuthing about the place that he heard a low whistle, followed by a chuckle. He turned around for the source of the voice and came into contact with a sparsely – and almost inappropriately so at that – dressed man.

He eyed Grant in a predatory sort of way – like he was cruising for him or something. Grant made it a point not to roll his eyes or walk away from the man outright when he started speaking in smarmy Australian accent but it struck him just then that this might be the very man that he was looking for. So he stuck it through, waited to hear whatever the man had to say, before he started in on interrogating him.“Well, it isn’t my birthday, then you must be Christmas.” He said.

“Uh-huh,” He said, utterly unimpressed with the man. “You must be Buck.” He inferred, watching Buck’s eyebrows raise in a questioning tone of voice. “I’m here for my friend. Keith.”

Buck stood up, like he was going to leave, “No, I’m sorry, doesn’t ring a bell.” He replied in a dismissive sort of way.

“You bought him from Hoyt.” Grant struggled to keep his composure, but he was getting frustrated with the Australian’s defiant peacocking. Jason would have been better at this, he thought, he always had a good poker face.

The Australian chuckled, “Ah, him?” He murmured as he did a half-turn to face Grant. “He said his name was-” and he covered his mouth and pantomimed a gagging scream.

Grant stifled a disgusted scoff, “You’re hilarious.” He deadpanned as Buck thought to walk off, probably back to his home – probably to where Keith was sitting in terror, probably to cause more of that terror to him. “You’re gonna give him back to me.” He said, speaking in an authoritative sort of way.

That stopped Buck dead in his tracks and he did a half-turn to look back at Grant. He muttered something to himself before he stretched his arms out grandiosely over the back of the chair he was sitting on. “Alright, let’s get down to Brass Tax. You must be Grant Brody.”

“I just want Keith!” He snapped in exasperation.

“Grant, Grant, Grant. Patience!” He chided the American, who was grinding his teeth down to nubs in his frustration. “We’re not all savages here! We’re just businessmen. Responsible capitalists! I’ve got something that you want? Right? That’s granted, and you’ve got something that I want.”

“And what is that?” He asked, already seething that he didn’t already have Keith’s location so he couldn’t just take this pervert down. He stepped towards Buck, ready to strike when the Australian let out a low whistle.

“Temper, temper, Grant.” He chided, “If you do me in, you’ll never get him back.” he pulled out an intricate design of an ancient looking knife. “I want you to find this for me, you score that and we’ll be Even Steven.”

“Huh,” He exclaimed, upon closer examination of it. “I’ve seen this knife before…” He said, more to himself than to the man in front of him. He had all but forgotten Buck in that moment and was jarred out of his thoughts when he heard the man snap back at him.

“Knife?” He asked in an incredulous sort of way, “It’s not just a fucking knife!” He snapped, grabbing the drawing out of Grant’s hand. “There’s more history in this than you and Keith’s four ass cheeks squished together, that’s my fucking fee. Alright?”

“Where is it?” He asked and Buck went into another tirade, telling him of a man with a boat that had the location of the knife. That was the best he was going to get, most likely. And with that, Grant exited the bar with a feeling of dirtiness and disgust at the man that he had just been forced into some kind of a deal into. There wasn’t much he could do about it now, though, he’d find the knife, he’d get Keith and hopefully never have to deal with the man again.

About halfway through the second film that he had been watching, the need that he had been holding back came over him once again. “Fuck.” He murmured to himself and bumped his head against the wall in a self-defeating manner, cursing his own biology for this inconvenient bullshit that it put him through every month or so. ‘Oh god,’ he thought, mortified. ‘If I stay here, I’m probably gonna have to start going through this again. Constant full on omega mode. What a fucking nightmare.’

Jason sighed and knee walked over to where Vaas was sitting, snapping angrily in Spanish to one of his men that was sheepishly trying to defend himself. He looked over noticing Jason’s presence and decided to end the call, “I can’t come up and clean up your mess like tu puta madre*. you fucking fix it!” He snapped and ended the call, throwing the cell to the ground so harshly that it gave Jason a start.

Jason frowned, “Is everything alright?” He asked, feeling an uncharacteristic sort of cautiousness around the alpha. Vaas turned to look at him and let out a short laugh. “No, I’m guessing not.” He murmured to himself.

“You know, your fucking gringo brother’s causing me a lot of fucking problems.” Vaas started, looking at Jason in an indiscernible sort of way. “Running around the fucking island like he owns the fucking place. Taking outposts, hijacking radio towers. Hoyt’s getting fucking mad about it and I can’t blame him for it, either.” He complained, “You know if shit keeps going down like this, he’s gonna have me going after him.”

It was just the truth, Jason knew that, but he didn’t want to think of the reality of it just yet. He knew that it was a very real possibility that Vaas might end up on the other side of Grant’s gun and he couldn’t really blame him for defending himself if that happened, and just the same if it was Grant that needed to defend himself against the alpha. But still, he didn’t want to think about the hypotheticals of it, preferring to worry about it if and when it came to that. “Don’t say that!” Jason snapped.

Vaas shrugged in reply, “That’s just the truth.” He said honestly, “I can’t say no if Hoyt wants me to kill him. I can put it off, maybe, and I’ve left him alone ‘cause of you but…” He trailed off, and Jason got the point of it, as depressing as it was.

“Well…you could put your dick in me.” Jason offered, slowly sliding his hips apart in a suggestive manner. “That would make everything better. Just fix all of our problems in one go.” He motioned in between them jokingly, if for no other reason than to distract himself from the existential dread that he was feeling at the thought of having to pick between his mate and his family, between his old life and the life that was being built for him on these islands.

Vaas laughed and pulled him closer until Jason was half sitting on his lap. “Well, maybe not all of our problems, but at least half of mi-” And Vaas pulled him in for a forceful, open mouth kiss. Jason had a dopey grin on his face as the two of them broke apart from the kiss. Vaas gently pushed Jason down on his back, forcing him to lie back as he laid a path of flighty kisses down his stomach. He had a lot of reservations about staying on the islands, he thought, but this was definitely something that he could see himself getting used to.

Jason was sprawled out on the beach, nude and covered from head to toe in blood. He felt filthy and he felt wrong. But he also felt right, like this was where he needed to be and how he needed to look – even if it disgusted him thoroughly. He scrambled to his feet, the feeling of the machete in his hand imposing upon him as he did so.

He walked forward, speeding up into a run until he found what he had no idea that he was looking for. Grant and a woman that he had never met before were standing together. The woman in front of him, she was beautiful – tall and statuesque, painted with tribal symbols that he instinctively felt held some weighty significance. Other than the ritualistic body paint, she was completely nude from head to toe, with only her long and intricately braided hair to provide her some sort of modesty. Jason was literally stunned, paralyzed by his awe at the sight of her.

But she wasn’t paying any attention to him, no, all of her attentions were on his brother. She walked a circle around him, each step slow and purposeful. “You are a great warrior, Grant Brody.” She stated in a tone of voice that suggested she was speaking more to the heavens then she was to him, “You will bring the Rakyat back, to our former glory.”

Thunder and lightning hit and cracked as she spoke, storms brewing around the three of them, thunder crackling dangerously close to where they stood – ready to shoot them down every moment. The woman braced her fingers around Grant’s shoulder, “I need you to do something for me. One more thing for me and then your path will be complete and you will truly be a Warrior.”

And then she kissed Grant and that was when Jason’s alarm bells were really raised. Grant wasn’t the type of person that would step out on his girlfriend with some woman…but he was, and Jason couldn’t bring himself to look, he closed his eyes – willing the scene away from him. He only opened them when an earth-shattering feeling came over him, like an earthquake or some other kind of natural disaster.

He opened his eyes and watched with horror as the earth literally separated underneath them, a fault line appearing right in front of where Jason stood and pushing them further away. Jason scrambled for purchase as he was knocked to the ground again. In front of him the woman began to chant in a foreign language and Jason got the sinking suspicion that she was summoning forth the disaster, willing death and destruction upon them.

The world around them got smaller and smaller as shadow-like creatures swarmed around the three of them. Neither Grant, nor the beautiful woman noticed them and every time that Jason tried to warn them to say something – anything – to get them to notice the impending chaos around them, smoke swarmed inside of his mouth and literally smothered his voice. So he was helpless to do anything. He just watched in horror as she finished the ritual with a knife in her brothers chest.

Jason woke with a start and looked around at his surroundings with panic and nervousness. He only calmed down, marginally, when he realized that nothing had changed from the reality of yesterday. Vaas was laying next to him, with his arm curled around Jason’s side. It was just so bizarre, so vivid and so damn real.

He sat up on his knees and experimentally checked to see that Vaas was still okay, he was still breathing, The world around them wasn’t collapsing. Grant wasn’t dead. And that striking woman, with the braids and the paint all over her naked body? She was nowhere to be seen. That was good, he was fine. Everything was fine, for now at least.

Jason sighed, deciding that he needed some fresh air before this all went to his head in a very bad way. He got himself dressed, wrapped a thin blanket around himself and headed out the door – he decidedly didn’t go very far, he didn’t want to attract any unwanted attention. He sat down on the dirt ground, cross-legged and curled up in on himself as he let himself experience the quietness and the peace around him. It was nice, meditative. He hadn’t been able to experience peace and quiet in a while.

That lasted for a few minutes before his phone started ringing out the custom ringtone that he had set for his brother. Jason scrambled to answer the call, fully knowing that it could have very well been some kind of a trap or a trick to figure out… Vaas’ location or his own. “Grant?” He asked, “Jesus Christ…Is that really you?” He asked in a soft spoken, almost frightened tone of voice.

“Of course it’s me, Jay.” The Elder Brody replied back in a gently mocking manner. “Who else would it have been?”

“I don’t know… I’ve been having these-” he sighed, “It’s gonna sound so fucking stupid, but I’ve been having these nightmares about this island. And about you, and the people here and its just- I thought something might have happened to you.” He groaned, feeling entirely ashamed of his out of character superstition. “Just don’t laugh. Please.”

Grant chuckled and then apologized, “I won’t laugh again, promise.” Jason scoffed incredulously at that, “So have you been? None of those fucking pirates have hurt you, right?”

“I’ve been… surviving.” He responded as vaguely as he possibly could, this wasn’t really something that he wanted to let his brother in on the details of. “Me and Vaas, we’ve been holed up back at camp. Not really doing much, you know, keeping a low profile for the next couple of days or so.” Before Grant could say anything else he added in a snappy tone, “And no. none of them have been hurting me, they’re all pretty respectful for the most part. Almost fearful, and I don’t blame them for that.”

“That’s good.” Grant replied, “I didn’t just call to see how you were doing.”

“Yeah, I figured.” Jason answered in a nonplussed sort of way. They didn’t really have the time for such niceties these days. Unconsciously, he tensed up in excitement, hoping that whatever Grant told him meant he got to help. “What’s going on? Did you find something out? Something you need me for?”

“Yeah, well maybe, I’m not sure if it’s a good idea yet.” Grant started, “But I think I know where Keith might be, he’s holed up with this weird Australian pervert.” Jason stiffened almost immediately, thinking that he knew exactly who the elder was talking about. “He goes by Buck-”

“Was he conspicuously under-dressed, a bit handsy? Kind of dirty looking, even for the standards of this fucking place?” Jason interrupted with a litany of questions about the man, hoping to confirm his suspicions about the man’s identity.

Grant was stunned into silence for a few minutes, “So you met him already?” He guessed, laughing a bit at how quick Jason still was to jump the gun and get it right to boot. “Yeah, that’s… a scarily accurate way to describe him. I thought you might have been able to trail him, and find out where he's storing Keith while he makes me run around looking for some fucking knife he wants.” And Jason was quick to agree to that, he told Grant that as soon as he was able, he’d meet up with the elder Brody and the two of them would take the privateer down, and get Keith back to safety.

((Spanish Notes: tu puta madre = your fucking mother))

#vaason #jason brody #vaas montenegro #abo au #lemons #heat chapter lmao

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mrswhozeewhatsis · 5 years ago

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A Woman of Letters (Getting a Feel for Sam Winchester) - Chapter 35

Summary: You’ve just opened an occult bookstore in Lebanon, Kansas, when you fall for a tall, handsome customer…literally. You soon find out that there’s more to the world than you ever suspected, including you. Discovering your heritage puts you directly in a witch’s crosshairs, though, so the Winchesters offer to take you in and teach you how to protect yourself. As you discover your own family history with the supernatural and your own hidden talents, you can’t help but wish a certain brother was as excited about your interest as you are.

Total length: 43 chapters, 70,247 words - Read on AO3 - Series masterlist

Chapter word count: 1826 words

Pairing: Sam x Reader

Warnings: Canon-level angst and violence

You

Afraid to move, you sat on Crowley’s throne and waited for something to happen. Your eyes darted from demon to demon in the room, wondering exactly how much danger you were in given Crowley’s decree that you weren’t to be touched. You squirmed in the throne, in spite of its comfort, wondering what was happening at the fake bunker site with Sam and Rowena. Would Crowley keep up his end of the deal and keep Sam and Dean safe? After a few minutes, a man dressed in formal attire walked in the room and approached you.

“We have been instructed to cater to any needs you may have while the King is running his errand. Do you require anything at the present time? Food? Drink? Facilities?” You shook your head dumbly, too scared to do anything else. The man nodded before continuing. “In that case, is there anything you would desire to help you pass the time until the King returns? Reading material? The King has set up a screening room in preparation of your visit in case there are any movies or television shows you’d like to watch?” You shook your head again, and tried to work up the courage to speak.

Taking a deep breath, you tried to find your voice. “The King prepared for my… visit, you say?” The man nodded seriously. “How long does the King expect me to… enjoy his hospitality?” You took a deep breath and tried to keep calm.

“No time was specified, but preparations have been made for an extended stay.” Your eyes widened as you wondered exactly what constituted an extended stay to a demon. “If there’s nothing else at the moment, then I will leave you to wait for the King’s return. Should you need something, my name is Godfrey. Ask for me, and I’ll return.” You nodded, and Godfrey left the room.

You sat on the throne for what felt like an eternity, waiting for Crowley to return. Eventually, you got bored, and pulled out your phone. You were surprised to find you had a signal. Unsure if calling Sam would distract him from the battle with Rowena, you opted for sending a text.

“Not sure, but I think I’m sitting on Crowley’s throne. Just wanted to tell you that I’m fine and they’re treating me well here. I don’t know what Crowley has in mind for me, but it doesn’t seem to include discomfort of any kind. I miss you, I love you, and I know we’ll figure this out and see each other soon.” You hit send, and hoped the message reached Sam.

After about a half an hour of killing time playing games on your phone to distract yourself, Crowley returned. He approached you, and smiled what felt like a genuine smile, putting a hand on the back of the throne and looking over your shoulder at what you were doing.

“Were you able to reach Moose and Squirrel and let them know you’re okay?” You looked up at Crowley standing over you in confusion.

“Uh, well, I sent a message, but haven’t gotten a response. I wasn’t sure if anything I sent from here would even go, if you know what I mean.” Crowley gently took your phone from your hands and slid it into his pocket.

“As long as you’re sitting here, the phone works fine. Perks of being the King.” Crowley winked at you and smiled, leaving you speechless. “Come now, darling, let me show you to your suite.” Crowley offered you his arm, and in your state of shock, you took it like your grandmother had taught you when you were little. He then led you out of the room and you started walking down the hall. As you moved further away from the throne room, your fear returned, along with your voice.

“What are you doing, Crowley? Where are we? Why am I here, and not back with the Winchesters? Godfrey said you had prepared for an extended stay. How long do you plan on keeping me here?”

“One question at a time, pet. First, I’m keeping you safe. Our deal was that I’d help with the fight against my mother, keep you safe, and in return, I get to keep whatever remains of my mother. This is me, holding up my end of the bargain. This is Hell. Well, the upscale part of Hell with all the modern amenities you could desire. Again, perks of being the King. The Winchesters are alive and well, my mother is enjoying a nice rest in her bindings in a specially-outfitted cell in the deepest, darkest corner of the most uncomfortable part of Hell where I keep my favorite toys, and you are safe. I can’t keep you safe if you’re with the Winchesters, so I brought you here. Here, you are safe, and I can provide you with every comfort you could ever need. Anything you need, anything you want, I will provide it for you.”

“I want Sam.”

“Okay, anything but that. If I bring him here, he’ll just try to break you out, and in doing so, will jeopardize your safety.” Crowley’s right hand was covering your hand on his arm, and he was patting you in a manner that was meant to be comforting. “Relax, Y/N. You are in no danger here.” Crowley paused his walking and turned to you, taking both of your hands in his. “And there’s no point in trying to pray to that traitor in a trench coat. If prayers could leave Hell, angels would go mad with the cacophony. Besides, even he doesn’t have the power to get here.” Crowley saw the distress evident on your face and you could tell he wanted to soothe you. He dropped one of your hands and brushed a lock of hair from your face, smiling comfortingly at you. His hand stayed by your head, cupping your face gently. “There is no need for you to worry, my dear. Your every need or want will be provided, with the exception of the Winchesters.”

Part of you was in complete panic mode. Your heart was beating a thousand beats per minute and slamming against your ribcage. Tears pricked at your eyes, and you forced yourself to take a deep breath and calm down. The scared part of you wanted to rail at Crowley, cry and scream and beg to be let go, but the calm part of you knew that wouldn’t get you anywhere. You added your empty hand to the hand holding Crowley’s and clasped his hand in both of yours. Looking into Crowley’s eyes, leaning your head into his hand just a little, you pushed as you spoke.

“Crowley, please. As much as I appreciate your concern, I love Sam, and I need to be with him. If you have concerns about my safety with the Winchesters, then we can discuss those concerns and how to alleviate them, but I can’t stay here. Please, Crowley, take me back to Sam. Please.”

For a moment, you thought it was working. Crowley’s expression changed ever so slightly, and there was a subtle shift in his stance.

“Darling, you can stop trying to persuade me that way. It won’t work. I know what you are and what you can do.” You couldn’t stop the shock from becoming evident on your face. “I figured it out after you made me save them from your apartment the day we met. You thought you could sway me from my plan and I wouldn’t notice that I suddenly changed my mind for no reason? No one makes me do anything just because they asked nicely. I did my research. Hell has records, too, you know. I know about your grandmother. It’s also why I’ve been careful to never lie to you. You would know before the lie left my lips, wouldn’t you?” Crowley caressed your cheek with his thumb as his eyes roamed your face affectionately. “My guess is that you’ve been reading me and working me since you found out what you could do.” A stab of fear made your breath catch. If he thinks that, what will he do about it? “Don’t worry, pet, I also believe that you had no malicious intent, so all is forgiven. If it wasn’t, I’d have left you to die with the Winchesters.” Crowley dropped his hand from your face, pulled your hand to his elbow, and continued leading you down the hall. “No, instead you’ll be kept safe here and provided every comfort. I want you to be happy, as well as safe, so any requests you have, except for the Winchesters, will be considered and discussed.”

The two of you approached a door, and Crowley led you through it to a huge suite of rooms. There was a living room/screening room, complete with comfortable couches and a huge flat screen TV. Next, you saw a small kitchen, filled with fancy gadgets and expensive appliances that would make Dean jealous. Crowley started to lead you around the suite, but you soon broke away from him to check out everything. The bathroom was about the size of the kitchen with a whirlpool tub, two-person sauna (you chuckled at the irony of a sauna in Hell), and a huge shower with a bench and a complicated-looking showerhead system. There were French doors that opened up from the living room to the bedroom, where a California king-sized bed took over the room, covered in what looked like a million pillows and blankets. Books of all kinds were lining bookshelves around the room, and there was a walk-in closet that would make any diva jealous. You inspected the clothes, and discovered that everything was in your size, and the collection ranged from simple jeans and t-shirts to ball gowns. There was also a large jewelry box, but it was mostly empty. The few items you saw, though, were simple, and to your taste. Crowley was smiling as you looked everything over, but stayed quiet until you sat down on the end of the bed, looking around in awe.

“Crowley, this is too much. I appreciate what you’re trying to do here, I really do, but…”

“But nothing, darling. I know that staying here, even if it is for your own safety, will be difficult for you. All of this is meant to ease that hardship. I’m the King of Hell, pet. If there’s nothing else I can do, I can at least provide you comfort and style. Now, I have to go attend to matters of state. Feel free to settle in, and if you need anything, just ask one of the guards outside the door to get Godfrey for you.” Crowley bent over and kissed your cheek, then gently brushed a lock of hair from your face. “I do hope you can find a way to be happy here.” With that, Crowley was gone.

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