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pastelwitchling · 4 years ago

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Brother in Arms Chapters: 1/2

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It was past midnight at the Pony when Alex got the call.

Michael was at the counter, coming in and out of Isobel and Maria’s conversation as he scanned the bar, looking for one particular man who said he’d try to come in late. Because they did that now. Offhandedly mention whether or not they were likely to see each other. It was a nice change of pace.

Michael straightened in his seat when he saw Alex finally come in, his hair windswept, his shoulders scrunched against the cold outside. He caught his eyes, and Alex smiled softly, weaving through the crowd towards him.

“Hi,” Michael said.

“Hey,” Alex murmured, his cheeks and nose red from the cold. They held each other’s gaze for several long seconds before Alex looked down, tugging off his scarf. Progress.

Michael cleared his throat and adjusted himself slightly on his chair, subtly scooting closer to Alex, to get a whiff of his vanilla scent, to feel the roughness of his jeans against his own. Alex seemed to notice and he turned slightly so that his left knee just barely grazed Michael’s.

Michael began to smile until he noticed the slight tension in Alex’s shoulders, the pinch of his brows, the pensive purse of his lips.

He looked back over his shoulder at Isobel and Maria, and when he was sure they wouldn’t be overheard, said, “You okay?”

“Yeah,” he said on a sigh. “Just feel a little off, don’t know why.”

“Maybe you’re just tired from work?”

Alex hummed, unconvinced. “Maybe.”

For the next half-hour, Michael tried getting Alex to smile in earnest. He kept close to him, listening to his day and telling him all about his own. He pretended to swoon (absolutely not actually swooning on the inside) when Alex mentioned his team following his orders, and made a sexual innuendo about Alex’s commands and authority. At one point, he even got a laugh from Alex that made his heart flutter in an embarrassing way that he swore never to mention aloud to anyone.

Michael was sure he looked like a lovesick idiot, smiling at Alex like he did when they were seventeen and he had managed to make the emo kid giggle, but he didn’t care. Moments like these, when they got to just be happy to have each other, weren’t as common as Michael wanted them to be. Some words were still too hard to say, and some confessions still stuck in Michael’s throat, keeping him frozen when he longed more than anything to cling to Alex and never let him go.

But if he’d known the kind of call Alex would get in the next few minutes, he would’ve held on and kept him on that stool, kept him from picking up. He would’ve taken him to the airstream, and they would’ve gotten lost in each other’s touch, a night they probably wouldn’t have talked about the next morning, if only to give him one more night of peace.

But how could he have predicted, when Alex’s phone had rung, the way Alex’s smile would dim at the sight of the caller on the screen? The way panic would cross his expression, however trained he was to hide it? The way his jaw would clench and he’d mutter an excuse under his breath to take his call outside? How could Michael have predicted coming out onto the Wild Pony’s back porch to see Alex sitting on the front step, numbly writing out a date and address in Nashville?

“Okay, Katie,” he said into his phone. “Yeah. . . . Eleven. . . . Mm.”

Michael heard crying on the other end of the line. Alex listened silently, staring at the address he’d written, mindlessly underlining it over and over, the pen tearing into the paper. Alex didn’t seem to notice.

Michael heard muffled voices, Alex responded with, “I’m going right now. I’ll see you in the morning,” and he hung up.

Michael swallowed. “Alex?”

Alex didn’t looked around at him. “Air Force buddy,” he said, and sniffled. “That was his sister.”

Michael’s shoulders fell. There was only one reason Alex’s military buddy’s family would be calling. He came to sit down beside him.

“Private –”

“I need to pack,” he said, standing. His eyes were dry, his tone calculating. “Get some things ready.” He was already typing something on his phone, and Michael followed to find a list of flights to Nashville.

“O-Okay,” Michael tried. “I can drive you –”

“If anybody asks, can you just tell them I’ll be out of town for a few days?” he said, eyes on his phone, his other hand stuffing the piece of paper into his pocket.

“Uh – yeah, but, Alex –”

“Thanks, Guerin,” he said, climbing into his car. Michael’s mouth hung open on a silent sentence as Alex drove away.

It was a freezing late morning in Nashville, as if even the weather was lamenting the loss of a great man. Alex sat a few chairs down from Katie and her mother, both pairs of blue eyes filled with tears. The sun caught off Katie’s blonde hair, turning it gold, just as Scott’s used to be.

Scott had joined the military a week before Alex had. He had been a ball of light and energy the day he’d arrived, catching Alex’s eyes with a smile and sticking by his side ever since. Alex, who had wanted to keep his head down and get the work done, to rise in ranks with the sole purpose of defeating those who thought they could beat him down, was taken hostage by this man’s piercing blue eyes and his kind voice.

“You and me, Manes,” he’d said that first night, taking the bed beside Alex’s, “we’re brothers.”

“I don’t need another brother,” Alex had murmured, glad for the dark that hid his blush.

Scott had smiled. “Then I’ll be more.”

And he had been. It felt strange to go through the months of basics, feeling like part of him was missing unless Scott was there. This blond, disastrous, one-man hurricane had been the same way; always a little more out of control, always a little easier to slip up, always scolded more by the sergeant unless Alex was there to reel him in. He’d been, in every way, Alex’s opposite. As they had lain on their stomachs one night, Alex had told him as much.

“Which makes it all the more incredible how much we connect,” Scott had said. He’d had a fondness in his eyes then that Alex had pretended not to notice. “That’s us, Manes, just like I’d said we’d be. More.”

When Alex had left, they’d kept in touch as much as they were able. A call here, a letter there. Neither of them ever feeling like they were separated at all. No “I miss you”s, just ventures relayed and heartaches confessed.

“Next time I see you, I’ll have a word with that cowboy of yours,” Scott had told him on their last discreet phone call. Alex had laughed and asked him when that visit would come.

“Soon,” Scott had promised. “I’ll come running home to you, brother.”

As Alex watched them lower the black coffin into the ground, those words echoed on repeat in his head. Scott’s team stood, saluting as the bugle played and Alex heard faint sniffles and cries behind him, all turned to background noise.

It felt wrong. Knowing a force of nature like Scott Mason rested in a wooden box, the American flag folded and handed to his mother who clung to it now as if it was her son himself. Alex didn’t take his eyes off the coffin until it was thoroughly buried. People around him began to disperse, but Alex sat there, his fingers quickly growing numb with the cold.

He buried his chin deeper into his scarf, Scott’s laugh in his ears. He would be returning to Roswell in a few hours.

Would that be okay, Scott? he thought, hoping his friend could read his thoughts as he always managed to do, and answer him. If I left?

He had yet to shed a tear, and felt a strange tingling in his chest, like something was building up to be released but couldn’t quite make it through the surface. He wondered if he should stop by his buddy’s favorite burger place around the street before he left, get a double cheeseburger with fries, and dip them in a milkshake.

“Try it,” he’d encouraged him on their first leave. “You’ll thank me.”

Alex blew a tiny breath, a white cloud forming before his face. He muttered, “Thanks, brother.”

“Alex,” someone gasped, “what’d you do?”

Alex looked up, blinking out of his thoughts. He realized almost everyone around them had gone, and Katie stood next to him now, her blue eyes looking down with worry. He followed her gaze and saw that he’d carved into the back of his hand with his thumb, a faint line of blood trickling down the torn skin.

“Oh,” he said. He wiped his hand against his jacket as he stood. “It’s okay, don’t worry about it.”

Katie searched his face. Her lower lip trembled as she opened her mouth. “I –” she cleared her throat. “I can’t imagine what he meant to you.”

Alex nodded. It’s not real, he thought. Scott’s fine. He’s not the kind of man who dies. I’m just having a nightmare. I’ll wake up, and my brother will be fine.

Still, even as he thought so, he said, “Your brother loved you, Katie.”

Her eyes filled with tears, and she sniffled as she roughly wiped her face. “He loved you, too.”

Alex held out his arms, and Katie fell in against him, hugging his waist tightly enough to bruise. Alex only wished he could feel any of it.

There was to be a reception. Alex had insisted he would help take care of things while Scott’s mother, Ashley, tried to relax. She’d been frighteningly quiet since Alex had arrived two days ago, but Katie assured him that she spent the nights crying.

“She’s letting it out,” she assured him. “Wears herself out half the time. I just don’t think she’s really processed it yet, but she’s getting there.”

Hours later, after guests had gone, Alex found himself sitting amongst Scott’s immediate family. His mother and sister, his uncles and aunts and a few of his first cousins who were able to fly back into town on short notice.

An untouched cup of wine sat in front of Alex on the table as his family laughed through their tears, recounting stories about Scott, memories of him as a kid, funny letters he’d send back so that none of them would ever worry about him.

“He was a good man,” his uncle said gruffly, keeping his head down to hide his glistening eyes.

Alex nodded, his heart still tingling strangely, not quite letting him breathe. “He was a hero,” he said, and was met with nods and “Hear Hear!”s and more tears. Alex wished he could cry. Why couldn’t he cry?

“I remember when he brought you home, Alex,” Ashley said hoarsely, her smile faint. “I was so sure we were going to get some big news.”

Katie scoffed half-heartedly, leaning her chin on her palm. “Mom made Scott’s favorite ribs and chocolate cupcakes. She was so proud he finally found someone. Then Scott told us you were just his friend, and she kept huffing through dinner.”

The corner of Alex’s lips quirked up. “Sorry.”

Ashley grasped Alex’s arm and gave it a tight squeeze. “Far as I’m concerned, sweetheart, you were the only one Scott ever really loved. I felt it in my bones.” Her smiled faded, and her chuckles turned to sobs. Her forehead came to rest on Alex’s shoulder, and he put a hand on her head, keeping her steady against him.

The rest of the group dissolved into sniffles for the next hour. When Ashley had worn herself out and fallen asleep on the couch, Alex stood and grabbed his jacket.

“You have a flight back to Roswell already?” Katie asked, stretching.

He nodded. “I need to get back.”

She managed a smirk. “To your cowboy?”

He scoffed. “Anything else Scott told you?”

“Just that you never wanted to go back to Roswell during your leaves,” she said. “Said you didn’t think anyone would care. You still think that?”

Alex considered it, and it gave him a headache. He exhaled a soft chuckle. “I can’t think of much right now.”

Her eyes were kind. “I understand.” She heaved a groan that cracked at the end. “Is it bad that I kind of want to fast forward to next year? When all of this is just a bad memory?”

“No,” Alex said, pulling her in for another hug. He sighed against the top of her head. “It’s not bad at all.”

“Don’t be a stranger, Alex,” she whispered into his shoulder. “You’re family, too.”

A lump lodged itself in Alex’s throat. Try as he might, he couldn’t swallow it down. He said nothing as he held Katie tighter.

Michael, Gregory, and Flint met Alex at his house the day he came back to Roswell. Michael sat on the back of his truck as Gregory and Flint leaned against Gregory’s car. Flint’s arms were crossed, Gregory was checking his phone for calls, and Michael was pretending not to be nervous about Alex as he’d been days ago. He tapped his finger on the trunk bench, remembering that morning days ago when he’d come to Alex’s doorstep at the crack of dawn to offer a trip to the airport, and found the airman had already gone.

He had no idea what to expect now. Isobel, Liz, and Maria had wanted to come see him, too, but Gregory had told them that it was better they not crowd him. Michael had gotten to come along for sheer insistence that he wouldn’t leave until he got to see Alex was safe and back in Roswell.

“You heard from him since he got off the plane?” Flint asked at some point.

“No,” was all Gregory said, and the brothers fell silent again. There seemed to be a weight that Michael couldn’t grasp, couldn’t touch and felt pushed down by anyway.

A familiar car rounding the corner into the driveway yanked Michael from his thoughts. He came down from the bench, putting it up as he kept his eyes on Alex behind the steering wheel. He couldn’t discern his expression, even as he parked, opened his door, and pulled out his suitcase.

“Hey,” Michael said, trying to keep his voice light. He was the only one to speak.

Alex managed a press of his lips, his eyes spacing out almost at once. Michael held out his hand for his suitcase, and Alex seemed to realize too late that it had been taken from him. He touched Michael’s arm in thanks.

Gregory and Flint seemed to know what to do better than Michael did, which apparently wasn’t much. Gregory patted Alex’s back with a sigh while Flint stayed behind them. Michael didn’t understand why until they’d gotten to the porch, Alex fishing for his keys, and his eyes suddenly fluttered. He swayed and Flint readily caught his arm, steadying him as if he’d been expecting it.

Michael opened his mouth in a gasp, but Flint shook his head minutely. Don’t talk about it, he seemed to be saying. He won’t be able to answer you.

Michael hesitated, fighting against every fiber of his being that longed to carry Alex inside himself so that he didn’t have to take another step on his own.

Flint released Alex as soon as he was on his feet again, and Alex opened the door and walked on inside as if nothing had happened. Michael stayed close and set the suitcase beside Alex’s couch as he took a seat. Flint went to open the windows, letting in the light, while Gregory said he would go make them some tea.

Michael sat down beside Alex, but Alex was staring into the distance, unseeing, his brows pinched slightly. Michael wanted to trace the path down the bridge of his nose, hoping it would ease whatever storm was raging in his head, but didn’t dare touch him.

Flint leaned against the wall, looking out the window as rustling sounded from the kitchen. When Michael risked speaking again, his voice was barely above a whisper. “Are you hungry? I – I can go get you something.”

But Alex was already shaking his head, waking with a deep inhale. “No, no, thanks, Guerin.”

Flint tilted his head. “If you want him to stay here, Alex, I can go grab –”

“I don’t have much of an appetite,” Alex said, and went back to staring at nothing.

Flint nodded, unsurprised. “Yeah.”

Gregory came back a few minutes later, holding a tray of four mugs.

“Thanks,” Michael muttered as he handed him one. Alex hugged his with his hands.

“Hey, hey,” Flint said, setting his cup down and gently prying Alex’s fingers from around the steaming ceramic. “You’ll burn yourself, brother.”

“Hm? Oh.”

Gregory sat down in the armchair across from the couch. He rested his elbows on his thighs, tapping a finger against his own mug. A few minutes of silence, then –

“Alex,” he said, “do you want to . . . talk about –”

“No,” Alex said at once. “I don’t, I – I can’t.” He didn’t seem angry or upset. Just tired. There was a numbness to his expression that almost scared Michael.

He hesitated, then put a hand on Alex’s back. Then he dared to rub soothing circles, letting his eyes roam the airman, reassuring himself that Alex was okay. That was when he saw the line of dried blood on the back of his hand, his skin carved into and torn.

“Alex,” he breathed, holding up his hand. “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” Alex muttered, his brows furrowed as if just now remembering that this injury was here. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

Michael gaped. “You did this to yourself?”

Flint sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Leave it alone, Guerin.”

“Manes –”

“He’s fine,” Gregory said, his voice calm and intent. “It’s fine.”

Michael wanted to argue, to demand if they were crazy, if they weren’t seeing what Michael was seeing. But Alex just let his hand fall from Michael’s and patted his shoulder consolingly as if he was the one that had lost a friend. And Michael’s words caught in his throat.

Alex’s head fell back. He pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes as he heaved a deep breath. “I . . . uh . . .” he sniffled, “you guys should go. I know you have work, I don’t want to keep you.”

Michael frowned. “Alex . . .”

He thought Gregory and Flint would definitely argue, that they’d refuse to leave their brother like this, but Gregory asked, “And you? You sure you don’t want one of us to get you something from the Crashdown?”

Alex shook his head. “No, I’m just gonna . . . head to bed. I’m tired after the plane.”

Flint nodded. “Okay. You have our numbers.”

“I know.”

“What? No,” Michael said, moving closer to Alex on the couch. “I’m staying here.”

“Guerin,” Alex said. “I already told you, I’m –”

“You’re not fine,” Michael nearly yelled.

“Guerin –” Gregory tried.

“He carved into his own skin! I’m staying!”

“Okay,” Flint said, nudging his chin at the door. “Come with me. We need to talk.”

Alex watched, only half-there, as Michael stood and followed Flint, hesitant to leave his airman at all.

The second the door closed, Michael demanded, “He’s not okay.”

“No kidding,” Flint frowned, a lot quieter than Michael was. “His brother just died, how do you think he’s doing?”

He smirked humorlessly. “And you two just wanna leave him. Let him fend for himself. After all this time, you still don’t care about what happens to him, do you?”

Flint tilted his head, eyes narrowed. “Who do you think Alex is? Some defenseless kid? You do realize he’s an Air Force Captain, right?”

“Yeah, I know,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Big tough military man, I get it.”

“No,” Flint said easily. “You don’t.” He pressed a finger to Michael’s chest. “Don’t pretend you know what losing a brother-in-arms is like, especially for someone like Alex. Someone like us. You have no idea the kind of weight that’s on our shoulders.”

Michael faltered. He licked his lips. “All the more reason,” he said, “to stay with him.”

Flint considered Michael, and began to chuckle. “Wow,” he said. “You really think that little of him?”

Michael frowned. “He hurt himself.”

“He didn’t do it on purpose,” Flint said, like that was supposed to be a reassurance. “You have no idea what he’s going through, but Greg and I do.”

“But this guy –”

“Yeah,” he sighed, putting his hands in his pockets. “Looks like this one was important. But he learned to live with it a long time ago. He’s not as broken as you think he is.”

Michael couldn’t let it go so easily. He remembered too well a conversation he and Alex had had months ago, in his bunker.

“I need to believe in a reason to stay.” What if this was it? The last straw? What if Alex was on a countdown?

He swallowed. “I’m going back inside.”

Flint grabbed his arm. Michael glared at him, but he was unrelenting. “Listen to me. I know you care about him –”

“I love him,” Michael said fiercely. Flint’s gaze didn’t waver. Always as prepared for battle as Alex.

When he spoke next, his words were quieter, but no less commanding. “Then let him breathe. I know Alex doesn’t always say what he means, but he means this. That captain in there is so much stronger than you think he is.”

Michael glared. “I know Alex is strong.”

To his surprise, Flint’s gaze slightly softened. He shook his head, as if Michael had completely missed the point. “That’s not what I just said, Guerin.”

Alex woke at twilight to find he’d fallen asleep on his couch, his clothes and prosthetic still on. He pushed himself up into a sitting position, and rubbed his eyes. He looked around, the pale light behind the blinds casting the house into dark shadows.

He shouldn’t have, but Alex lied back down, staring at the ceiling with one hand covering the other on his stomach. He heard nothing but his own breathing, and then not even that.

“Hey, Manes, have you ever been in love?”

Alex closed his eyes against the memory, and immediately, his mind filled with images of himself and Scott laying on opposite sides of his bed, staring at another ceiling.

He forced himself up again, furiously scrubbing his face. He sat there a second longer, staring at nothing and thinking of a mess of things, from what time he had to wake up tomorrow to errands he had to calls and texts and emails he probably had to answer –

“Guerin,” he called faintly, and was answered with silence. His shoulders fell. Oh yeah . . . He had asked them to leave. He knew it was for the best, there wasn’t really anything he thought he could say to any of them, but just saying Michael’s name brought him a slight peace that he couldn’t explain and which vanished as quickly as it came when Alex couldn’t find him. That had happened a lot in the past decade.

Scott’s smile came back to him. “That the cowboy I should be jealous of?”

Alex exhaled shakily, and pushed past the memory. He changed into his sweats, took his prosthetic off, and curled up in bed. He lay awake under the covers for several minutes that felt like hours, cramming a million other things into his mind to force out the one thought that he knew he couldn’t handle right now, and eventually, the darkness had mercy on him, and sleep took over.

Michael wanted to be useful. He’d spent the past two days wandering the junkyard, finding things to do that didn’t really need doing, if only to keep moving. He may have broken down several cars and driven Sanders crazy, but he was losing his mind.

At one point, he’d snapped, gotten in his truck, and made it halfway to Alex’s house before he came to an abrupt stop in the middle of the road and hit his forehead against the steering wheel.

“That captain in there is so much stronger than you think he is.”

“I know Alex is strong.”

“That’s not what I just said, Guerin.”

Michael clenched his jaw. “What does that mean?” he growled through grit teeth. Michael knew who Alex was, what he was. What did that matter?

Michael all but slammed the gearshift back again, and turned a corner to the Project Shepherd bunker instead. If he couldn’t take care of Alex, he could at least get through some of the files they had waiting there, look into a few leads so Alex didn’t feel like he had to himself.

The last thing Michael had been expecting when he’d pulled up to the hidden entrance was to find a familiar car parked there already. His heart leapt into his throat, and he almost stepped out of the truck without turning it off.

He wrenched the door open, and came down the stairs to find the white lights already on. Alex was at the far end of the bunker, typing at a computer. Michael stopped, staring.

Alex glanced up and gave him a quick, small smile. He was surrounded with open files, more than half of them marked. He shrugged a shoulder. “They gave me a week leave,” he said. “Figured I’d get something done.”

Michael didn’t know where to start. Are you any better? Have you slept? Did you want me to stay?

In the end, he managed a quirk of his lips and a light, “Don’t you military men ever rest?” He pulled up a chair next to Alex. “Oh, wait, don’t tell me. ‘I don’t know what rest means, Guerin. I can go for weeks, Guerin. I don’t actually need to be on leave, Guerin.’”

He smiled, but Alex did not seem amused, his eyes unmoving from the screen. “No,” he said simply. “I definitely need it. Way I’m feeling, I might just end up shooting anybody in a uniform.”

Michael faltered. Alex’s tone was light, but something in his eyes darkened, something frightening that Michael wasn’t used to seeing on his airman’s face. He hesitated, then, because he wanted to do something and didn’t know what, he reached out and covered Alex’s hand with his own.

Alex didn’t smile or look at Michael. Instead, he turned his hand over in Michael’s and gripped his fingers so tightly his knuckles turned white.

Michael tilted his head, trying to discern his thoughts. “Alex?”

He blinked. “Hm?”

“About . . . uh . . . that Mason guy –”

“Shh, shhh,” he shook his head, his eyes shut tight. “We don’t have to talk about that, I don’t want to talk about that.”

Michael stared. If he wasn’t so aware of Alex’s every move, of every inch of the airman’s skin that touched his own, he might’ve missed the way Alex’s fingers slightly trembled in his. But he was, so he didn’t.

He swallowed and nodded. He pulled Alex’s head in towards his with his other hand, and kissed his forehead.

“Okay, baby,” he whispered. “It’s okay.”

Alex’s grip did not loosen, his eyes did not open, his breathing did not calm for two whole minutes. Michael raised his other hand to rest between Alex’s shoulder blades, running up and down his spine, turning his nose into Alex’s hair and inhaling his scent.

Alex turned his head slightly so that Michael’s lips hovered above his. Michael’s eyes fell to Alex’s mouth, his own falling open. He could feel Alex’s hot breath against his bottom lip. His own breathing quickened as he thought about fitting his mouth against Alex’s, tasting his tongue, running a hand up his shirt and feeling his naked skin as he hadn’t gotten to do in over a year.

Michael wanted to be useful, and Alex always seemed able to breathe better when they were together. Maybe this would be useful. That, and Michael just really, really wanted it.

Somehow, as he always did, Alex was able to read his mind. His dark, hooded eyes looked up at Michael through long lashes. When he spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper.

“You want to help me feel better, Guerin?”

Michael’s eyes fluttered as he nodded, entranced. He leaned in, their mouths open. His breathing turned more and more ragged as the soft press of Alex’s lips against his own filled his gut with a fire. It had been too long since he’d gotten to touch.

Against Michael’s lips, Alex whispered, “Then help me,” and slowly closed their mouths in a kiss.

Michael’s eyes fell shut and a moan escaped his lips as he kissed Alex again, then again. He reached up, taking Alex’s face in his hands as he tilted his head, devouring his mouth.

“Baby,” he breathed against Alex’s lips between kisses, unable and unwilling to keep it in.

Alex whimpered at the nickname, and the sound spurred Michael on. Alex took Michael’s wrists, as if silently begging him not to leave. As if Michael would ever go anywhere.

“I,” Alex managed, “I want more. Touch me, Guerin.”

Michael looked at Alex then. His expression was filled with lust, his lips kiss-swollen, making Michael’s cock twitch in his jeans. He bit his lower lip, kissed Alex again, and nodded.

“Okay,” he said. “Okay, let’s get back to the airstream –”

But Alex was already shaking his head, moving out of his chair. He worked on the buttons of his jeans, and without any hesitation at all, pushed them and his underwear down, revealing his half-hard length. Michael’s mouth fell open, his tongue darting out to lick his lips, imagining the taste of Alex on his tongue.

“Now,” he panted. “I want you now.”

Alex climbed onto Michael’s lap, his naked, smooth, hairy skin against the hard fabric of Michael’s jeans. Michael was fully hard now as his hands slowly rose up Alex’s thighs, reveling in the touch of his warm skin and imagining his body against his own. Then Alex undid the first two buttons of his shirt and pulled it over his head, tossing it to the ground. He was now completely naked as he straddled Michael, down to his toes. Michael was sure he would die.

Alex took Michael’s face in his hands, crashing their mouths together. He moaned against Michael’s lips as he grinded into his hardened, clothed cock.

“C’mon,” he breathed, his nimble fingers working on Michael’s belt. “Take them off. I want you to fuck me hard.”

“Alex,” Michael groaned, and in one rough tug, managed to tear off his belt. He pushed his pants and underwear down, releasing himself. As soon as his cock rubbed against Alex’s, his eyes rolled back into his head and he all but screamed.

“I’m ready,” Alex said between hard, wet, open kisses. He ran a hand up Michael’s stomach, his chest, scratching through the trail of hair and digging his nails into Michael’s nipples. “Please, Guerin. Fuck me.”

“Yeah,” Michael breathed. “Yeah.” And he did as he’d fantasized doing for the past year. He aligned his cock to Alex’s hole with one hand, his other coming around to grab Alex’s ass, feeling his soft skin in his hands.

Alex choked on a scream as Michael took him in all the way, his hands gripping Michael’s face tightly against his neck where Michael got to bite and suck and lick and kiss as much as he wanted. When the airman was ready, Michael thrusted softly, not wanting to hurt him.

But Alex pressed his lips against Michael’s ear and commanded, “Harder, baby. I want to feel you for days.”

The thought was enough to erase all other from Michael’s mind, and he wrapped an arm around Alex’s waist, his other still gripping Alex’s cheek as he thrusted up hard, Alex coming down just as roughly, as eagerly.

Alex came a split second before Michael, and only through Michael’s sheer force of will that Alex enjoy it for as long as possible that he managed to keep himself from letting go in those first few seconds. They breathed heavily into the small space between them, and Michael leaned in, taking Alex’s lips in long, lazy kisses.

Alex was still running a hand through Michael’s curls, making his eyes flutter. When their breaths evened and Alex’s movements slowed, Michael looked up to find his airman staring at his chest, his brows pinched together slightly. His eyes were unfocused.

Michael felt a fear he’d almost forgotten about climb into his throat now. He swallowed it down, and put his fingers under Alex’s chin, lifting his gaze.

“Hey,” he whispered, moving his hand to cup Alex’s jaw, his thumb caressing his cheek. “Look at me, baby. Look at me, I’m right here.”

“Um,” Alex said and cleared his throat, closing his eyes as if trying to wake himself from his haze. His fists laid curled against Michael’s chest. He brought his head down, his forehead against Michael’s chin as he exhaled shakily. He looked around. “My clothes, I –”

“I’ve got ‘em,” Michael said immediately, trying not to sound as disappointed as he felt. He’d wanted to stay with Alex like this, naked and holding each other, a little longer. Instead, he used his powers to bring Alex’s clothes right up to him.

But before he got dressed, Alex curled in against Michael, pressing his nose to Michael’s cheek, his lips brushing the cowboy’s jaw. Michael wrapped his arms around him, taking his chance to press light kisses to Alex’s bare shoulder.

Alex seemed to need a second to straighten his spine and brace himself before he grabbed his clothes from midair and pulled them on. He gently moved off Michael so that he could do the same, and when they were both dressed, Michael grabbed a file, not knowing what else to do. He kept glancing at Alex who was staring at his computer screen, his fist against his lips as he seemed too distracted to keep doing whatever he was doing.

Finally, Michael couldn’t take it anymore, and he said, “Tell me what to do.”

He knew he sounded desperate, his demand more of a plea, but he didn’t care. Because Alex wasn’t acting like Alex, and he was breaking, but he wasn’t breaking, and it was all very scary and not where Michael wanted his airman to be.

Alex frowned. “Do?”

“To fix this,” he said, and winced at how stupid it sounded. But he couldn’t stop himself. “O-Or make it . . . I don’t know, easier. Tell me what I have to do, I’ll do anything, Alex.”

Alex’s look was unreadable as Michael held his gaze. Then something shifted, something turned sadder, and suddenly, it was Alex who held Michael. “I feel like there’s a hole in my chest, Michael. And it’ll never heal.” His lips quirked in a soft, helpless smile. “And there’s no fixing that.”

Michael watched, speechless and unable to do anything as Alex closed his laptop with a sigh, put his hands in his pockets, and made his way out of the bunker.

Alex finished scrubbing down his counter, and looked up, wiping sweat off his brow with the back of his hand. The kitchen, like his living room, bedroom, guestroom, and bathrooms, was spotless. The sky outside the window was pitch black, the wind still rustling through the empty branches and the yellow, dead grass. The world still turning, and not turning at all.

Alex’s phone on the table behind him buzzed, the screen lighting with new messages. Alex picked it up, scanning the texts. Flint said he would meet him at the Pony tomorrow night after they were both done at the base for drinks, Gregory said he’d be bringing over lunch so they could eat together, Clay left him a voicemail, telling him to call when he had the chance. It was Liz and Maria who asked if he was okay, if he needed them to come over right away.

Alex asked them not to. His brothers hadn’t asked if he was okay. He was grateful; he didn’t have an answer right now. He felt like he never might.

“Miss me already, Manes?”

Alex shut his eyes. The edges of his phone dug into his palms. The last phone call he and Scott had had, what had they said? He didn’t remember the exact conversation. Shouldn’t he have remembered?

But no. There was a moment from their last meeting that stuck in his mind.

“Start counting down, brother,” Scott had told him, a whispered eagerness in his voice. “I’m coming to Roswell next. You just tell me who I need to beat up.”

“What’re you coming here for?” Alex had said. “I’ll come see you wherever you want. Just pick anywhere else.”

“No,” Scott had said more softly. “No more running, Manes.”

“A drive,” Alex said, hoping the sound of a voice, even if it was his own, would keep the memories at bay. “I need a drive.”

The drive wasn’t helping. Alex had the window open, the icy wind biting his face and burning his eyes. Alex’s hands were clenched painfully tight around the steering wheel, his fingers numb with cold. His jaw was clenched, that small trickling in his chest turned to painful hammering now.

Scott’s letters. I’ll never get them again. His secret phone calls. That phone will never ring now. And he had been planning to come to Roswell. I should’ve brought him sooner. All the days on leave, I should’ve brought him. Roswell would’ve been better with him here.

“I should’ve brought him,” Alex said, his words breaking in his own ears.

Alex clenched his jaw, and pressed harder on the gas pedal. Scott would never see Roswell now, would never meet his friends, or know Michael. Places Alex could’ve taken him, the stars he could’ve shown him. They were brighter in Roswell than anywhere else in the world. And now his brother would never see them.

Headlights. Alex saw a pair of headlights far ahead, the large truck driving, for some reason, on the wrong lane. Or was Alex on the wrong one? It didn’t matter. He didn’t move. The gas pedal was on the floor of the car now.

As the truck neared, the headlights growing larger, brighter, the thought kept coming to Alex; if he could see Scott again, if all the pain and loss would finally end, it would all be okay. That was what he wanted, right? To stop the pain?

BEEP BEEEEEEP!

“No more running, Manes.”

Alex gasped, the realization of what he was doing hitting him like an explosion, and he wrenched the steering wheel aside at the last second. The car slowly came to a stop as the angry trucker’s honks faded into the distance behind him.

Alex’s trembling hands fell off the steering wheel as he slumped in his seat. Tears streamed down his face, his own ragged breathing like thunder in his ears in the silence around him.

He didn’t want to do this alone. Not this time. His hands still shaking, Alex turned the ignition back on.

Michael couldn’t sleep. He’d been tossing in his bed the past several hours before he’d given up on the idea of resting, and he went down to his bunker to tinker instead. He kept running into dead ends there, too.

When he’d tried and failed to solve a calculated projection for the eighth time, he’d had enough. His mind was flooded with thoughts of Alex, his dark eyes, his quiet words, his naked body and the way he’d curled against Michael, eager to stay close.

Michael let the pen fall from his hands. He needed to go to the Pony. Maybe he could get really drunk and forget that, somewhere in his house, Alex was probably locking himself out of his own mind, breaking apart and unwilling to let anyone near him. Because that was what it meant to be a military captain, right? Weather the storm alone? Prove that you were tougher than everyone else? Alex just didn’t need anybody because he’d been through so much worse, was that it?

The thought had him shaking. He pulled his shirt over his head as soon as he’d made it up the ladder. He thought he’d throw any somewhat clean clothes on and go drown his sorrows in a glass . . . then a car pulled up into the junkyard.

The low beams dimmed as the driver’s door opened. It was Alex. The lights turned off, and the moonlight revealed his tear-streaked face, his lower lip trembling, his chest rising and falling as if he could barely breathe. And Michael could see and think of nothing and no one else.

A sob escaped Alex’s lips, and Michael exhaled sharply before running to him. They met in the middle, Alex’s arms around Michael’s shoulders as he cried into the crook of his neck. Michael held him tightly enough that it should’ve hurt, but he didn’t care. He brought a hand up Alex’s neck to rest in the soft strands of his hair, his body trembling. Michael held him tighter.

“I’m right here,” Michael whispered into his neck. “I’m right here, baby.”

Alex wept as Michael had never heard before, his nails clawing into Michael’s back. Michael closed his eyes, reveling in the sting. Because it meant Alex was here, with him, safe and far away from what had taken his brother-in-arms.

“I – I want to see him,” Alex cried. “Just one more time, I want to see him.”

“Shh,” Michael said, rubbing his back soothingly. “Shh, baby, it’s okay. It’s gonna be okay.”

Alex buried his face against Michael’s skin, the sounds of his cries in the dark, silent night shattering Michael’s heart, one crack at a time.

In seconds, Michael had the bonfire started. Long after Alex had turned silent, Michael swaying them left and right, he led the airman to a chair and let him soak in the flames. He had his elbows rested on his thighs when Michael came back out, after hurriedly shoving a shirt on, and handed him a bottle.

Alex took it with a murmur of thanks and downed half of it in one gulp. Michael pulled his chair closer and sat down next to him. And he waited.

After a long while of staring into the fire, the gold and orange flames reflected in his dark eyes, Alex quietly said, “I never know what to say. When this happens.” He shook his head. “It’s a repeat, but none of them are the same. You know? Scott wasn’t . . .” he faltered, and closed his eyes, exhaling shakily.

His eyes glistened and he wiped the back of his hand against his nose before he went on, “They’re not lumped in together, you know? I remember each of their faces, I remember everything. And I felt it, I – I felt it coming. I know you don’t think it’s possible, but I did. Because he was part of me, I felt it.”

Michael swallowed. “He sounded special.”

Alex’s eyes filled with tears that fell before he could stop them. “He was so good. So brave.” He huffed a sad chuckle. “You would’ve liked him. I mean –” another sniffle “—he hit on me all the time, so I don’t think you would’ve loved him, but . . . you would’ve really liked him, Guerin.” He shook his head. “I should’ve introduced you, I should’ve done so much more for him.”

Michael reached over, gripping Alex’s forearm. “Hey. That’s not on you.”

Alex sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Yes, it is, Guerin. You live with that. Knowing that your family’s on a time limit that’s usually a lot shorter than most people’s. And when it comes, all you can think of is the time you wasted. You don’t know what the good side is anymore, and eventually, they all become enemies because they all kept you apart.”

He huffed, ducking his head as another tear fell. “It’s . . .”

“A lot of weight to carry,” Michael finished, remembering Flint’s words. How much Alex had on his shoulders . . .

And suddenly, as Michael watched this beautiful man, carrying himself only by the memories of the people that had become a part of his heart, by the love he had for this family he’d created for himself, he realized how far apart he and Alex actually were.

He leaned in as a tear rolled down Alex’s cheek, as he was too weary to wipe it away. Michael kissed it, and Alex looked up.

“You’re so . . . grown up,” he whispered. “Tell me what to do. Please, Alex, tell me what to do.” Tell me what to do to keep you.

Alex’s considered him. Then he tugged at Michael’s arm until Michael was against him. Alex rested his head against his shoulder. “Just let me touch you,” he breathed, “for a little longer.”

Michael wrapped Alex in his arms and held him tightly, one hand going up and down his arm, his other hand sliding into his hair. Alex’s hand came up Michael’s chest, as if eager to feel under his shirt, to have that skin-on-skin contact that reassured them like little else did.

“Let me keep you,” Michael whispered into Alex’s hair.

Alex turned his face into Michael’s shoulder. His grip tightened on the cowboy’s body, and for a second, Michael thought he would say yes. Then –

“I should get back.”

Michael’s face fell. “I – I take it back,” he said quickly, “I just want you to stay the night –”

But Alex kissed his jaw softly, then the corner of his mouth, then his lips, effectively silencing him.

When he pulled back, he was cupping Michael’s cheek. “I have work tomorrow,” he said. “All my things are back at the house. Okay?”

Michael nodded, and kissed Alex one more time before letting him up. “I’ll drive you,” he said.

Alex managed a smile. “My car’s here.”

“Then we’ll go in yours.”

“Then you’ll be stuck with me.”

“Yes, please,” Michael breathed, taking hold of Alex’s waist again.

Alex huffed a laugh which quickly turned to a cry. He turned away, covering his face with one hand. When he looked up again, his smile was weak and his eyes were rimmed red.

“I – uh – think I just need to be alone.”

Michael wished he could be angry, frustrated. But instead, all he felt was fear. Alex didn’t seem stubborn to him anymore, just . . . far away. Why? What had changed?

“Hey,” Alex said softly, and pulled him in for another kiss. “I’ll be back. I need you, too.”

Michael swallowed past the lump in his throat. “Yeah,” he whispered. But I have no idea how to help you. I don’t even think I know who you are.

“Alex, I . . .” I love you. He’d almost said it. He’d wanted to. But Alex was heartbroken and lost, and that wasn’t what he needed to hear right now. Instead, Michael pulled Alex in one more time, kissing him hungrily.

“I’d do anything for you,” he panted against his lips when they pulled apart again.

Alex nodded, his forehead pressed against Michael’s, and he roughly wiped at his eyes with his forearm before he turned to leave. Michael watched him walk away, already freezing at the loss of his touch. What was wrong with him? What was it that felt so off this time?

“Because he was part of me, I felt it.”

Was that what this was? No, it was different. Michael couldn’t begin to list the ways, but it was different. Alex gave him a soft smile before he climbed into the driver’s seat and disappeared.

The man that made music and smiled blushingly whenever Michael kissed him, and the man that held the world on his shoulders, always one crack away from shattering completely. They’d always been the same to Michael, but something had changed now.

He had once confessed that he couldn’t get used to seeing Alex in his uniform. At the time, he’d played it off as a joke, though something in his heart had stung at the image. And he’d never understood why. Now he did.

“He’s mine,” he said before he could help himself. The silence of the night threatened to engulf him, to keep him quiet. Alex, after all, belonged to a different world. He had a life and identity outside of Roswell, outside of Project Shepherd and music and aliens that had no place for a temperamental, telekinetic cowboy.

Michael didn’t care. He didn’t know where he fit in with all of this, and the painful thudding of his heart served to betray his true fears of never being allowed to belong to the airman, but he didn’t care.

“He’s mine,” he kept repeating, hoping that the words would be enough to make it real. “Alex belongs with me. He’s mine.”

***

I’m exhausted! I might be sharing an IG with y’all soon for my writing/reading. Just in case anyone would like to follow something like that 💖

#michael guerin #alex manes #malex #malex fic #malex fanfic #malex fanfiction #roswell new mexico #roswell nm #tw: self harm #tw: brief suicidal thoughts #malex angst #malex fluff #michael vlamis #tyler blackburn

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what-is-your-plan-today · 4 years ago

Text

Don’t Worry, Be Snappy!

Summary: Amber finds herself stranded on a boat with Mike Weiss…and as anything where Mike is involved, it all gets a little crazy!

Warnings: Bad Language words.

A/N: As it is past midnight here in the UK here it is!

BEWARE- This is utter, utter nonsense. You’re about to get an insight into exactly how stupid mine and @icanfeelastormbrewing ‘s minds and brain storming sessions really are. But it made us laugh, and we hope it makes you laugh too.

Written especially for @sweater-daddiesdumbdork for her birthday! Happiest of days to you Ambi, we love you lots!!!

Fic Song: Don’t Worry, Be Happy by Bob Marley

Now listen to what I said, in your life expect some trouble, when you worry you make it double. But don't worry, be happy, be happy now

The problem with Mike Weiss is, well, just that he is Mike Weiss. Total crackpot, in more ways than one. Which was why Amber found herself one sunny July afternoon sailing down a literal creek without a paddle as they searched for his pet alligator. Mike had been struck by a sudden idea the previous night that it would be nice to take Snappy to the Everglades- “So he can associate with his own kind, learn so alligator social skills”

Of course, despite Mike’s protests to the contrary, Snappy was instinctively a fucking wild animal. So as soon as Mike had dropped him into the water he had slunk off into the weeds and completely ignored (again, not surprisingly) Mike’s calling of his name.

“Why did you let him go Mike?” Amber groaned, laying back on the bench in the boat.

“I was high, ok?” Mike sighed “Seemed like a good idea.” He chewed the inside of his cheek a little as he glanced around, hands on his hips “Here Snappy, Snappy.” “Yeah, he’s mingling Mike…there’s no fucking way we’re A- gonna find him, or B- he’s gonna come back!” “I love what a positive, always look on the Brightside kinda gal you are.” Mike shot her a look as he steered the boat carefully down the small reed lined stream.

“I’m a realist.” Amber sighed, still looking up at the clouds “You should try it sometime.”

At that point the boat they were on gave a little stutter and Amber sat up to see Mike glancing curiously at the controls.

“Erm…” he looked around “It broke.” “What do you mean it broke?” “Well it was working…” Mike rolled his eyes “And now it’s not.” “Fucks sake…let me try.” Amber sighed. She stood up, shoved Mike out of the way and she turned the key in the ignition. Nothing. With a groan she looked at him, her hands on her hips “I TOLD you we should have taken my fucking canoe.”

She flopped down back into her seat with a growl.

“Someone’s cranky” Mike whispered and Amber glared at him.

“You know what, I am, you’re right.” She pointed at him “You’re a dumb dork, who does dumb dork things, like letting an alligator go free in the middle of the swamp in FUCKING FLORIDA!”

Mike opened his mouth to say something but the sound of another boat engine drew their attention and they both turned. Amber’s eyes were instantly taken by the man steering the boat who was dressed in a white shirt and a dirty pair of jeans. His wind ruffled hair was stuck up slightly and his eyes were hidden by a set of aviators. A small girl with blonde hair sat besides him, a ginger cat on her lap and behind her perched a woman with long, reddy-brown hair, a pair of glasses also over her eyes.

“You guys alright?” the man asked as they pulled up alongside them.

“Yeah, this dumbass managed to strand us here.” Amber jerked her hand over her shoulder.

“Frank did that to us once.” The young girl grinned and the man who had just stopped the boat besides them looked down at her.

“That was the one time my repairs let me down.” He shook his head.

“One time too many.” She quipped.

Amber snorted, “I like you kid.”

The little girl smiled “I’m Mary, this is my uncle Frank and his girlfriend Fliss.”

“Nice to meet you all.” Amber smiled. “I’m Amber and this is Mike.”

“Want me to take a look at it?” Frank asked, nodding to the boat “I do it for a living so…”

“Be my guest.” Mike said, and Frank nodded, heading to the back of his boat.

“So what are you doing here?” Mary asked.

“Mary stop being so nosey.” Fliss sighed. Mike gave a chuckle.

“We’re looking for my pet alligator…”

“Yeah Idiot Boy here set him loose. Thought he needed some alligator time with other alligators…” Amber rolled her eyes.

“You have a pet alligator?” Mary’s eyes widened. “Frank, can-“ “No.” Frank cut her off as he turned round, a length of rope in his hand.

“It can live in the pool!” Mary pressed

“Absolutely not.” Fliss looked at her and then their attention turned to Mike as he gave a chuckle.

“Can’t keep em in a pool kid, chlorine…not good.” Mary paused and then grinned “We can build him a lake in Monty’s field…” “The hell we can.” Frank snorted.

“Ah go on man, make the little girl happy!” Mike smiled. “They make great pets…”

“Clearly they don’t.” Frank grumbled, looking Mike up and down before he frowned at the man’s ridiculous shirt and trouser combination. Fliss grinned.

“Nice boots” she said, gesturing to Mike’s cowboy specials.

“Thanks!” Mike flashed her a cheeky grin and a wink.

“Shame about the rest of it.” Frank quipped, as he tied a length of rope to the side of the stranded boat, securing it to his own so he could hop over onto the deck.

“You’re calling my outfit out?” Mike scoffed, gesturing with his hand to Frank’s loud yellow and black Hawaiian print shirt “Exhibit A your honour.” “Clearly this is some sort of shit outfit competition.” Amber mumbled.

“I feel you sister.” Fliss grinned “Are you two…erm…together…or…” “Never seen him before in my life.” Amber denied and Fliss laughed.

“What the fuck Amber?” Mike protested.

“He just turns up from time to time when he has the munchies and eats all my Sour Patch Kids.”

“That’s not the only thing I eat.” Mike grinned and Frank let out a snort.

“Yeah, sure.” Amber rolled her eyes before she looked at Fliss and Mary, dropping her voice “He also eats my dog, Tikka’s, food.” “Frank ate one of Fred’s catnip treats once.” Mary said and Frank shrugged, not taking his attention of the engine of the boat.

“I wanted to see what the fuss was about.”

“You were drunk” Mary retorted.

“That was the night you came home saying the leprechauns had stolen your jacket.” Fliss said.

Mike grinned “I see leprechauns a lot.”

Amber shook her head “Jesus Christ…” she mumbled.

“Ok, I see the problem.” Frank smiled, stranding up and turning to Mike “You’re out of fuel.”

Amber blinked as Mike turned to her, giving her a small shrug and an innocent, boyish smile as she exploded “What the…you didn’t think to CHECK?” “I thought they were electric.” Mike shrugged.

“God you’re an idiot…should have brought my canoe.”

“You know, that’s the second time you said that.” Mike looked at her.

“Really, well here’s the third…” She snarked “I. SHOULD. HAVE. BROUGHT. MY. CANOE!”

“Ok, we can give you a tow back.” Frank said, moving back to climb into his own boat. “Get you back to the centre.” “No can do.” Mike shook his head, “Need to find Snappy…” “Yeah, erm…” Fliss pointed to something that was approaching them, a confused expression on her face “I think he may have already found you.” They all turned and as they watched Snappy sail past their boat led on an Alligator shaped pool inflatable, being pushed by an extremely good looking man in a wet suit. He glanced up at them, smiling, his teeth white from behind his beard and he flicked his long hair back out of his eyes.

“Leave no gator behind.” He said simply, as he continued swimming past, Snappy basking on his inflatable.

Amber blinked, looked at the can of coke she was holding and turned to Mike “What the fuck did you put in this?” “Nothing…” “And why am I suddenly cold?” she frowned.

“Cold?” Frank looked at her “It’s like 90 degrees…in the middle of Florida.”

“That may be, but I’m still cold…” she frowned “And why is it going dark…”

****

Amber sat bolt upright, her head colliding painfully with the bunk above her, breathing deeply as she looked around. The light and warmth she had been feeling had been replaced with dark and cold, the blues and greens of Florida swapped for the dark greys and browns of the train…

“Hey…” a familiar voice said and she turned to look at Curtis as he sat up besides her “You ok baby?”

“Yeah, I just had the strangest dream.” She said as her man gently rubbed between her shoulders as she began to explain to him what she’d been dreaming about. He arched an eyebrow, sniggered occasionally and then snorted with laughter, a rare thing for Curtis Everett, when she told him about the inflatable alligator.

“And Mike, Frank, the Diving guy…they looked a bit like you. Which is odd.” She finished shrugging.

“Well I’m clearly on your mind.” Curtis quipped as he lay back, arms folded behind his bed as he gave her a sinful look “And you should be on my face so I can wish you a happy birthday properly.”

Amber grinned and shuffled round to straddle him before she stopped, her hands falling to his chest.

“On one condition.” She smirked.

“What?”

“Take your beanie off first. It gives me a rash.”

#happy birthday sweater #have some nonsense from us #don't worry be snappy #mike weiss #frank adler #ari levinson #curtis everett

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plasticnightmaredoll · 4 years ago

Photo

So, this is a drabble I’ve been sitting on for a little while, mostly because I wrote it while in a “mood” and thus it’s kind of personal. However, I do still like it and want to share it.

It does involve Erron Black and Cassie Cage from “Mortal Kombat,” so if you’re familiar with them then kudos, I suppose. If not, then it’s no a big deal. You don’t need to know all about them to understand what’s going on in this drabble.

I didn’t tag this writing with anything Mortal Kombat related because it’s kind of...bashing BlackCage (Erron Black x Cassie Cage) and doesn’t paint Cassie Cage in the best light. I don’t want the drama and bullshit that could result so I am keeping the MK tags far away from this drabble.

Now, this fic DOES involve Arkham Knight Riddler, so it’s a crossover, and I am 100% ok with tagging him and Scarecrow (Yes, he’s in it, too, sort of). Neither of them are portrayed in a way that would piss people off.

Now, the fic is very personal to me and technically it’s a self-insert, but I refrained from using my real name or my alias, and has just referred to myself with pronouns. Why? Because I’m kind of shy and weird like that. Plus, it’s super personal and emotional to me, this drabble, and I just don’t feel comfortable directly attaching my name -- or even my alias -- to it right now.

This isn’t on AO3 for the reasons I’ve already mentioned, and I am honestly ok with any feedback on this, be it positive or negative. Seriously, if you have thoughts, then share. If you happen to be a BlackCage fan and/or Cassie Cage then feel free to send me hate -- no anon hate, though, as I have turned off anonymous asks.

I will warn you now, the drabble deals with self-esteem issues, and the ending, if you are familiar with Scarecrow (and if you’re reading this, I sure hope you are), the ending is kind of.....dark. Nothing actually happens but it is heavily implied someone is in for a traumatizing time.

Volunteer

“I don’t know what I did wrong,” she said, sounding as defeated and drained as she looked. “I tried my best yet I still only managed to be in the friend zone. He said it’s not that I’m not good enough, but that he had liked her for a while and she finally said ‘yes’ to going out with him so…”

“What does this girl look like?” Edward asked, displeased with the situation.

“Hang on.”

Edward had to admit he wasn’t shocked by this news. From the start, he knew Erron Black was that type of guy, one of those dim-witted pretty boys who had no sense or reason. However, Edward didn’t say anything to her as she was an adult and could make decisions on her own -- even if they were the wrong ones. Besides, she was so smitten by Erron that Edward suspected she wouldn’t have listened to or believed his warnings anyway.

She searched on her phone and found the (infamous) girl’s Instagram profile and then handed it to Edward. Looking through Cassie Cage’s photos, frowning, shaking his head, he found himself unimpressed. This was the woman that got Erron’s attention? Honestly? She was a spoiled, bratty, self-centered blonde with the IQ of a donut!

Clearly.

Although, seeing as how Erron’s IQ was clearly no higher than that of Cassie Cage, Edward figured birds of a feather flocked together...one dodo for another.

“Ugh, I’ve seen enough,” Edward said, handing her back her phone. “She’s a social media brat who has fluff for brains and probably uses her looks to get what she wants. There’s no way she’s actually an intelligent, fascinating person. Anyone who takes that many ridiculous selfies is, without a doubt, an idiot.”

Edward noticed she didn’t appear to be relieved by his words, so he quickly thought of something else to add, hoping it would provide some sort of window to clarity that she desperately needed for this situation.

“So, this Cassie fits society’s shallow and pointless standards of beauty,” Edward said. “She’s an absolute bore, I tell you! She’s got a pretty face and an attitude, probably only is successful because she’s relied on her parents for everything.”

She still looked upset, and maybe even more so.

Ok, Edward, think! thought the criminal genius, chewing on his lower lip as his anxiousness grew. There’s got to be a way to get this through to her. This is a waste of her time!

“I mean...I wouldn’t want to spend time with her,” Edward said, placing a hand on his chest. “I’d probably lose my mind after listening to whatever pointless drivel would inevitably spill forth from her mouth. As for her looks, well, let’s be realistic here: they won’t last, and then what? She’ll be stranded with her own deflated ego and nowhere to go.”

Edward could tell that she was nearly crying now much to his dismay, and she kept her head down to hide the tears gathering under her lashes. This was absurd, he thought. Why did she feel so hurt by a guy who was a complete moron and a girl who looked like every other blonde girl out there? It was a waste of time, energy, thought, and emotion to dwell on such people. Why couldn’t she see that?

“I understand what you said,” she said, sniffling. “I agree with a lot of it but...it still hurts, maybe more so now that I realize how much of a bimbo Cassie is. And Erron chose her? I’m not blonde...is that what he wants?” She gripped her phone tightly. “Do I need to start acting like an obnoxious brat, taking selfies and posting them online for attention?” The grip was now threatening to crack the protective outer case of the phone. “I did all I could to be a good friend to him, was there for him, listened to him, treated him well….and yet, I’m still not good enough to earn his...his love? He waited a long time for Cassie...well, I’ve waited even longer to stop being rejected because I’m not good enough!”

Not wanting her to injure herself, he reached out and placed a hand over hers, watching her fingers loosen around her phone.

“I don’t feel good enough,” she said softly, finally crying. “I’ve never been good enough. I don’t know why...I don’t know...I try and I try but it’s never enough...”

Edward watched her sob quietly to herself, unsure of what to do but his internal panic was growing worse. This wasn’t exactly his area of expertise, and he still thought she was wasting energy on two idiots. However, there was nothing he could do about that, not right now, not when she was still overwhelmed by emotion.

So, he reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder, feeling a little awkward doing it but it was all he could think of at the time.

“It’s going to be alright,” Edward told her. “I promise.”

A few weeks later….

Edward was typing away at his computer as she sat at a table nearby working on one of her custom dolls. With her headphones on, she drowned out the world around her, entirely focused on painting the face of the doll. Because of this, she didn’t notice him get up from his chair to “greet” the ignorant Neanderthal standing outside under the security camera mounted on top of the main door.

Edward opened the door to see a worried Erron Black standing outside.

“What do you want?” Edward asked in an exasperated tone.

“Have you heard from her?” Erron asked. “She hasn’t responded to my texts or calls, and it’s really botherin’ me. I wanna know if she’s a’right.”

Edward crossed his arms, sighing in annoyance.

“Yes, I have seen her and spoken to her,” Edward said. “And it’s her right to ignore you if she chooses to.”

“I...I know that but…” Erron rubbed the back of his neck. “I...I want to speak to her...there’s somethin’ I got to say. I...I just...I need to see her and talk to her, face to face.”

“Haven’t you done enough?” Edward demanded. “No, you can’t speak to her. You’ve done enough damage to her psychological state with your puny, insignificant brain.”

Erron looked taken aback but said nothing as guilt consumed him further. As much as he hated Edward’s callous words, the cowboy wasn’t in the mood to pick a fight.

“Now, run along, Little Cowboy,” Edward said. “Go back to your vapid Selfie Queen where you belong.”

With that, Edward closed the door in Erron’s face, smirking triumphantly. Why that idiot thought he could just walk on back with his tail between his legs and beg for forgiveness, Edward had no idea. Then again the other man was too selfish to realize the error of his ways, so it shouldn’t be too much of a surprise he tried that.

As Edward made his way back to his computer, he suddenly got an idea; a beautiful, incredible, ingenious, devious idea. Taking his phone out of his pants pocket, he searched for and dialed the number he had in mind for this situation.

“Hello, Crane,” Edward said, smiling wickedly to himself.

“Ah, Edward,” said Jonathan, who was fully expecting to be hit with Edward’s ego. “I am surprised to hear from you. To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“I’ve got something, or rather someone for you.”

“Oh?”

“You said you were working on a new variation of that fear toxin of yours, am I correct?”

“Yes, and it’s nearly ready. Perhaps just another day more and it will be finished.”

“Great! Then I have a candidate you can test it on.”

“Oh, yes, do tell. I am always looking for ‘volunteers,’ as you know.”

Edward gave Erron’s name and description to Jonathan, his smile turning into a malicious grin as he did so. As much as Edward wanted to teach the dumb cowboy a lesson himself, he also thought it wasn’t worth the effort and Scarecrow loved having ‘volunteers’ for his silly little gas...

“I will have my men apprehend him right away,” said Jonathan.

“Just don’t leave any permanent damage,” Edward said. “Otherwise...have at it.”

“I would never do such a terrible thing,” Jonathan said, chuckling darkly. “I take good care of all of my ‘volunteers.’”

“Don’t say I never did anything for you.”

“Before I go, may I ask why you are recommending this man to me? Is he one of your henchmen? Did he steal from you? Fail to complete a job?”

Now this caught Edward off guard. How was he going to explain this? He couldn’t even fully explain his feelings about this -- about her -- to himself. Yet, he didn’t want to deny Jonathan an answer, either. It was a perfectly valid, logical, albeit nosey question.

“This man, he…” Edward began, his words catching in his throat for a moment. “He, um...he...damaged something...something very valuable to me. And...and as much as I want to discipline him myself, he is too far beneath me for me to waste any of my precious time dealing with him further.”

“Ah, I see,” said Jonathan. “I must be going now, but thank you, Edward. You are too generous.”

With that, Edward hung up and made his way over to her, lightly tapping her shoulder. Turning around, she smiled up at him and removed her headphones.

“Hi, Eddie,” she said. “Did you need something?”

“No, no,” he said with a charming smile. “I just wanted to get a closer look at what you’re working on. It looks impressive so far.”

“Really?” she looked delighted, her cheeks turning a lovely shade of pink. “It’s not done yet but...thank you! You have given me a little confidence boost.”

“And you deserve it,” Edward said, patting her shoulder. “I look forward to the final result.”

Back at his desk, Edward continued working on code for upgrades to the Riddlerbots, humming to himself contentedly. Maybe what he did was a bit much, but the cowboy needed to be put in his place. Men like Erron -- people like Erron -- always did. Besides, she would forget about the fool in time. Edward was certain of this because that was the nature of things: you forget about what no longer has any meaning or purpose in your life, and seeing as how she wasn’t at all interested in conversing with Erron anymore...well, it didn’t take a genius to figure out the conclusion.

“Just dance,” she sang softly to herself. “Gonna be okay, da da doo-doo-mmm...”

Edward nodded to himself upon hearing her, smiling.

Yes, it’s going to be ok, My Dear, he thought. It’s all going to be ok…

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

And that’s the drabble....Now, think of this: Riddler could fuck Erron Black up. I mean, he has a goddamn robot army. And Riddler is a criminal genius -- well, even without the “criminal” part, he’s still a genius. Erron is....he’s not. No offense but he’s not.

In this drabble, Eddie is aware of all of this, but -- and this is where the self-insert part comes in so forgive me -- he does have strong feels for myself (which sounds weird but, like I said, this is a self-insert type of thing and I self-ship with this Riddler so......), as I’m the only friend he’s got (only friend he’s probably ever had, really). So, he’s very protective.

I can see Arkham Knight Riddler being this way if he actually cared for someone. They’d be special to him for a lot of reasons and he wouldn’t want them to be hurt. He’d be devastated because he cares for them, they care for him...it’s the last the he’d want, for them to be hurt in any way.

And we know Riddler isn’t above getting revenge, and this is personal.

Yes, I know Batman pissing him off and humiliating him over and over is personal, but I think this sort of situation would be even heavier for AK Riddler for the reasons I already mentioned.

Some idiot dared to make his one and only friend, the only person who has been both kind and respectful towards him despite his flaws, feel awful about themselves and for no good fucking reason?

A guy who reminds Eddie of the bullies he had to deal with growing up (I do think AK Riddler was bullied growing up -- it seems to be implied, and with how poor his social skills are, I think he would have sadly been a target for bullies in school)?

A guy who is so beneath both Eddie and his dear friend, that said guy doesn’t deserve to walk away from this without paying a price?

But Edward isn’t a master of mental torture like Scarecrow is, and we know Scarecrow’s fear toxin makes people hallucinate terrible, terrifying things, including their worst fears and possibly any traumas they have endured in life. Erron Black didn’t have the best childhood based on his intros with other MK characters. It seems like he grew up in an abusive household, has trouble being open with anyone, has trouble forming serious relationships, chases cheap thrills over and over like he’s filling some sort of void....

Something tells me Erron wouldn’t have a good time under the influencer of Scarecrow’s toxin, and while Eddie doesn’t know about Erron’s unpleasant childhood, he...also doesn’t and wouldn’t care because, AGAIN, of the reasons I have already mentioned. In Eddie’s mind, he’s getting revenge for his only friend, the only person he actually cares for, and he’s getting it in a very fucked up kind of way.

Phew...that was a real fucking ramble. I apologize but I have a lot of feelings about this drabble and its subject matter.....

And let’s be fucking REAL, Bitches: Erron should be glad we’re dealing with Arkhamverse Riddler and not Telltale Riddler. If it were Telltale Riddler.....omfg Erron would probably beg for the fear toxin.

Because Telltale Riddler doesn’t fuck around.

#riddler #arkham knight riddler #edward nigma #scarecrow #jonathan crane #edward nygma #self-insert #self-shipping #tw: implied mental torture

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katehuntington · 5 years ago

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Title: Ride With Me (part sixteen) Fandom: Supernatural Timeline: 2008 Pairing: Dean x Reader Word count: ±5500 words Summary series: Y/N is a talented horse rider who is on her way to become a professional. In order to convince her father that she deserves the loan needed to start her own farm, she goes to Arizona for six months, to intern at a ranch owned by Bobby and Ellen Singer. Her future is set out, but then she meets a handsome horseman, who goes by the name of Dean Winchester. A heartwarming series about a cowboy who falls for the girl, letting go of the past and the importance of family. Summary part sixteen: The wranglers return and Jo can’t wait to hear about Y/N’s adventures, until a disturbing call comes in. Warnings series: NSFW, 18+ only! Fluff, angst, eventually smut. Swearing, smoking, alcohol intoxication, alcohol abuse. Mutual pining, heartbreak. Crying, nightmares, childhood trauma. Description of animal abuse, domestic violence, mentions of addiction. Financial problems, stress, mental breakdown. Description of blood and injury, hospital scenes, character death, grief. Music: Opening scene: ‘River Crossing’ - Carter Burwell. Dean & Ellen scene: ‘She Is The Fire’ - Gareth Dunlop. Check out ‘Kate Huntington’s Ride With Me playlist’ on Spotify! Author’s note: It’s about damn time, ain’t it? Thank you @kittenofdoomage, @girl-with-a-fandom-fettish and @winchest09 for helping me. You girls are awesome betas and friends.

Ride With Me Masterlist

“They’re here!” With two long ranch ropes hanging from her shoulders, Jo walks up to the fence and hangs the bundles by the loops on a post. All the preparations have been made. Garth and her moved the trail horses to the pastures further to the left, creating space for the youngsters. The hay feeders are stacked, water troughs filled. All that’s left now is to get the horses in the right fields, which sounds easy enough, but has proven to be a struggle many times before. Getting a group of young feril stallions into a certain space is like herding cats. Both excited and in suspense, she rests her bare forearms on the wooden rail, the sleeves of her plaid shirt rolled up. Jo hopes everything went alright and that everyone, humans and horses, are in good health. The blonde rancher peers at the orange haze up ahead, the wind carrying the veils of dust further east. The sun is slowly setting, catching the clouds rising up from the earth and setting them on fire.

She and Garth have one task: take the pack horses out of their hands so they can round up the horses and secure the gates. She looks over her shoulder, whipping her blond braid as she turns her head. Garth joins her, a big smile on his kind face, clearly just as excited. Behind him, in the tall doorway, Bobby and Ellen watch the approaching herd, several guests doing the same from the terrace at the outdoor arena. When she hears Benny’s classic ‘grito’ shout above the intensifying sounds of hoofbeats, she knows it’s time for action. Macy and Jon come down the trail that carves through the property, both with a pack horse by their side. They only slow down when they turn the last corner. After handing over Cash and Aerosmith, the tourists thank them briefly and spin around, pushing the animals into a canter; their job is far from done.

As they speed back to the group again over the trail path outside the fenced pasture, Benny is the first to come through the first gate and from then on, it’s chaos. Most of the juvenile stallions follow him, but two hit the brakes when they notice the bottle neck, demanding quick responses from both Dean and Brad. A few others spread out before Benny has lured them through the second gate. Joplin bolts towards the stragglers once Y/N moves the reins towards her horse’s ears. Like she has been doing so all her life, Y/N cuts of the two youngsters, following the movements of the speedy mare. Dean is with her in a split second, ready to back her up if necessary, but Y/N doesn’t need saving. Jo smiles at the sight, proud of her friend, who is proving herself to be one hell of a ranch hand. She might be State Champion in the arena, but out there, working the fields, she rules the world.

Shouts and whistles rise above the dust. Horses neigh, the ground trembles. Hooves dig deep into the ground, their beats pounding against the earth. It takes some maneuvering, but within ten minutes, the herd is on the right side of the fence, the animals cantering through the field and clinging together like a flock of birds. Once Macy has pulled the gate shut, the spectators on the terrace cheer, the ranch owners clap as well. Jo lets out an excited ‘woo-hoo!’ as well, Garth joining her in the howl.

Y/N turns in the saddle, her attention drawn by the applause coming from the ranch, and she smiles when realizing they have an audience. Ted is waiting for his next cue patiently, catching his breath after the intense ride, while his rider pulls his neckerchief down, using the other end of it to wipe his face. It doesn’t help much, the fabric just smudges the dirt and Y/N chuckles at the sight of the handsome cowboy, covered in dust. “What?” He rubs his nose with the back of his hand. “Nothing,” she laughs. “You just need a bath, that’s all.” “Something about a pot and a kettle.” He leans over, dragging the pad of his thumb across her cheek, showing her the dark smear on his finger. She laughs in surprise, only now tasting the earth on her lips. Playfully she glances at him from under her lashes, locking onto his green eyes, which stand out even brighter on his dirty face. God, she wouldn’t mind sharing a tub with him.

Dean redirects his attention to the group when the other wranglers join them. Content, he allows his eyes to pass the riders and their horses, all worn, covered in sweat and dust. The six of them turned out to be a solid group, because they absolutely nailed it. “Alright, y’all,” he starts, resting his wrist on the horn of his saddle, absently tracing the dressing of his bandaged hand. “Awesome job, that was some impressive teamwork. I know it wasn’t always easy, but we brought them home.” “Thanks for having us,” Macy returns, smiling genuine. “We would’ve gone in circles if it wasn’t for you.” “Hey, now! What about lil’ ol’ me? Y’all would have starved to death if it wasn’t for my phenomenal stew,” Benny recalls, fishing for a compliment. The riders laugh, Brad patting the Southerner on the back and thanking him for the fine dining. They turn the horses to the trail along the fenced pastures, heading towards the stables.

Jo watches the company of six approach from under her hat, which shields the setting sun from blinding her. It’s an epic sight, the silhouets of the wranglers and their horses, illuminated with an edge of gold, dust clouds in their wake catching the light. Benny is right up front, accepting the small applause from the other guests with a ‘thank you, you’re too kind’. He looks like he just crawled out of a coal mine, his distinctive blue eyes standing out from the dirt. She sighs with relief when she notices the three tourists, excitedly sharing conversation with each other about their epic Wild West adventure. They are all unharmed and clearly had a good time, which means they will pay the invoice they will receive once they check out in a couple of days. Maybe they’ll even throw in a tip; God knows the ranch needs it.

Behind them, the last wranglers follow. Dean and Y/N ride stirrup by stirrup, exchanging a look that has the blonde cowgirl frowning. What’s going on with those two? The moment passes when Macy gets off her horse, Jo’s cue to help her tack down, while Garth assists Jonathan and Brad. She loosens Jimmi’s singe and glances over the horse’s back. Dean has allowed Y/N to pass through the fence first, turning Ted around to close the last gate from his saddle. Joplin speedwalks onto the square as enthusiastic as the morning she left, not a trace of fatigue with the feisty little horse. As the mare and her rider pass by, Y/N makes eye contact with the ranch owner’s daughter, who follows her with her gaze, confused. The suppressed smile creates dimples in the intern’s cheeks, her lips pulled together in a thin line, as if she’s trying to contain herself. Almost like she has done something bad, something Jo told her not to do. Underneath she’s glowing, her eyes giving the sheer happiness away. Y/N averts her eyes again and steers Joplin to a free spot on the tack up area and only then Dean moves into Jo’s peripheral vision. His expression has similarities to Y/N’s, yet isn’t quite the same. For one, he’s way worse at hiding the sly smirk that reaches from ear to ear, not to mention the mischievous sparkle in his emerald greens.

Jo does a double-take, bouncing her eyes from the head wrangler to the intern and back. Then it clicks. “You despicable dickwad,” she hisses. Her piercing glare bores into Dean, who has aided Ted to halt next to the horse Jo is tacking down. Playing innocent, he raises his eyebrows at the insult as he dismounts. “What did I do now?” Jo narrows her eyes at her cousin. “Oh, you know damn well what you did.” She lifts the tack from Jimmi’s back, pulling the damp saddle pad from underneath, after which she barges off, muttering to herself. Three days. I left those idiots alone for three days!

She enters the tack room, the heavy saddle on her hip. Still shaking her head disapproving, she hoists it over the high beam and hangs the wet blanket on the drying frame. When the door opens behind her, she spins on her heels and faces Y/N, who’s holding Joplin’s saddle, bridle hanging from her shoulder. Guilty, she tips her chin down, looking back at Jo while she bites her lip. The ranch owner’s daughter sighs, deciding to cut her some slack. “You better hurry up hosing down your horse, ‘cause you have some explainin’ to do,” Jo tells her. “And hose down yourself while you’re at it. You look like you crawled up a chimney.” Y/N chuckles, putting the tack away. “Oh, how I missed your honest judgement.” “Missed you too, sis,” Jo returns, a smile pulling at the corner of her mouth. “Now get goin’, I need a drink and I need to get you drunk, because I wanna know everything. Meet me at the saloon in thirty.”

A half an hour later, Y/N has taken a seat at one of the small round tables in the corner of the saloon, tapping her fingertips on the dark varnished wood. She’s freshly showered, her hair still damp, held together in a French braid. It’s nice to feel so clean again, no sticky sweat on her back, no sand in her bra, no dirt up her nose. Jo didn’t lie when she mocked her friend for looking like a chimney sweep; Y/N was shocked when she saw herself in the bathroom mirror. Dust as makeup foundation isn’t really the look she is aspiring for.

Funnily enough, Y/N has grown fond of this new version of herself, the one that isn’t so fussy over the details. After her shower, she didn’t even bother with her usual makeup and hair routine, a little bit of mascara was all she put on. Old her would have been self-conscious, especially knowing she’ll most likely meet the man she wants to impress. Old her would have ironed her shirt and polished her boots. Old her would have sighed at her reflection, nervous and disappointed, never pretty enough. But for three days straight, Dean looked at her as if she was the only girl in the world, no matter how dirty, dusty or sweaty she was. He even told her she was beautiful, with or without makeup.

The way he said it, the way he meant it, quieted that dreadful voice in her head and beckoned the small suppressed girl to step forward, into the light. That little girl’s voice grows louder when she accomplishes something. When she’s accepted, successful, appreciated… loved. But as it goes in business, one bad review might destroy what all the good accomplished. Her confidence is fragile, made of glass. She’s aware that when it falls, it will shatter. Maybe that’s the exact reason why she seeks confirmation. Glueing all the pieces together has proven to be difficult before. Some pieces go missing, others don’t fit together perfectly anymore. Cracks remain visible. And every time that brittle heart is stepped on, it’s harder to put it back together.

“So!” Jo sits down opposite of her, roughly pulling her off the train of thought. “You better start talkin’.” She shoves a large margarita glass towards her friend, keeping her delicate fingers around the neck of her beer bottle. “I want details. Well, not all the details. He’s my cousin after all, I have no desire to know that much,” she corrects herself, thirstily gulping down her IPA when she pauses, keeping the beer in her mouth for a second before she swallows. “Hmm, so let’s start with… what the hell were you thinking and why didn’t you take my advice?” “I couldn’t have stopped myself if I wanted to, Jo,” Y/N confesses, taking a sip from her beverage. The blonde cowgirl sighs. “At least tell me it was a moment of weakness? One isolated incident?”

Another sip, this one a little slower, hoping her friend can’t detect the blush. “Oh, come on, Y/N,” Jo utters. “He ain’t a bad guy, but you know how he treats women. Remember Casey? Because I bet Dean doesn’t.” “I don’t think this is like that,” she ponders, shaking her head. “The way he was with me... it’s different.” Jo leans back in her seat, taking a swig from her drink, looking at her friend even when she tilts her head back and allows the golden brew to slip down her throat. She’s not judging her friend over her decisions, not really. She just wishes this fling with Dean won’t hurt her feelings, despite years of observation that say otherwise. “Honey,” she starts empathetic. “I hate to break it to ya, but that’s how he’s been with every girl he had sex with. He makes them feel special and then he--” “- I didn’t have sex with him,” Y/N corrects. “Wait, what?” Jo cocks her head back, somewhat confused. “You didn’t?” Y/N chuckles, shaking her head. “No. We kissed, we got a little handsy, but we didn’t have sex.” Dumbfounded, her friend blinks, needing to process that information first before she responds. Then she nods impressed. “I knew you were smarter than that,” she grins. Y/N smiles, amused about how wrong Jo’s assumptions are. “It wasn’t me.” “What wasn’t?” “It wasn’t me who suggested taking it slow.” “Then who--” the first words have fallen from Jo’s lips already before Y/N’s message sinks in and she realizes what that means. Eyes full of shock stare at her. “What?! Dean?!”

Y/N laughs now, covering her mouth with her hand to keep the noise down. Oh, this is priceless. “Dean wants to take it easy?” Jo double checks. “We’re talking about the same Dean, right? Dean Winchester? Cowboy Ken Doll with the cocky attitude?” The tequila mixed with lime juice almost resurfaces through Y/N’s nose and they both laugh when she spills some. “The one and only,” she giggles, wiping the spilled drink away with her sleeve, not bothered by the stain. “Hold up. Let’s take it back,” Jo leans in, making sure no one can listen in. “You’re telling me that he had the opportunity to hit a homerun, but didn’t take it?” “He had several opportunities, actually,” Y/N admits casually. Perplexed Jo averts her gaze, focusing on nothing in particular, unable to grasp what is going on. “Did he say anything?” she carefully checks, her frown marred with worry. Jo assumed Dean was into the intern, but now that he passed up, she’s starting to doubt it. That is so unlike him. The thought crosses her mind that Y/N will most likely get hurt, just not in the way she was trying to prevent. What if the attraction isn’t mutual, but her dear friend hasn’t picked up on it yet? “Yeah, he did,” she starts off. “We had a pretty deep conversation last night. Just the two of us.” Jo raises her eyebrows. Another surprising fact; Dean having deep conversations. Have the stars aligned? Is she in a different universe? “What’d he say?”

Y/N becomes a little more guarded, unsure if it’s her place to discuss the matter with Jo. The small bit of information Dean shared with her about his past feels top secret, and she doesn’t want to break his trust when this circles back to him. She decides on keeping it plain. “We talked about us, how to proceed from there. He said…” she smiles at the memory, remembering the sincerity in his voice and in his eyes. “He said he really cares about me, and that because of that, he doesn’t want to rush into it.” Jo can’t believe her ears. “He said that?” Y/N nods. “He also said he wants to be with me, Jo. Like really be with me. He just needs a little more time. I think he wants to make sure this lasts.” “Well, I’ll be damned,” Jo huffs. “How about that?”

The double saloon doors behind them are pushed open with a shriek, a few guests coming through. Y/N’s heart skips a beat when Dean enters as well. He looked good on the trail ride, in his long stockman coat, his leather fringed chaps, covered in dust and sweat. But my God, he looks even finer now. Dean also showered and changed his dirty jeans for a pair of clean dark ones, a navy blue button up hugging his strong back, shoulders, and arms. He trimmed the stubble that was transitioning into a beard, the shorter facial hair allowing the sharp line of his jaw to come through. Still standing on the doormat, he takes off his hat while scanning the saloon. Is he looking for her? When the cowboy finally spots her, he instantly smiles, the expression reaching his eyes. He holds her gaze when she smiles back happily, shooting her a wink, before heading for the bar.

“Ha...” Jo scoffs, amazed by the exchange she just witnessed. “Maybe there is hope for him after all.” Y/N chuckles, clinking her glass to Jo’s raised bottle, the sound clear as a bell. Beaming, she steals another glance at the handsome cowboy by the bar, who has trouble keeping focus on the conversation with Bobby and Benny, looking over at her briefly every now and then. Taunting him, she takes the remaining beverage before her in one swig, licking the salt from her lips. When she checks on the head wrangler again, his eyes are glued on her, the sight of her downing her drink in one shot clearly having an effect on him. Jo observes the interaction like she’s watching a tennis match and scoffs.

“Judging by the look he just gave ya, he’s not gonna be able to ‘take it slow’ much longer, because I’m positive you and your margarita just gave him a boner.” She gets up from her chair. “Want another one?” Y/N nods, chuckling at her comment; Jo has so much faith in her cousin. She can’t really blame her, though, with Dean’s track record, but Y/N knows that this time it will be different.

She’s halfway through her second drink when she starts to feel the influence of the alcohol on her system. The music seems a little louder, the candle-shaped lights on the wagon wheels hanging from the ceiling sway slightly. She tells Jo about her adventure off the grid, about singing songs by the campfire at Willow Creek, about swimming with the horses at Eagle’s Nest, about her night ride with Dean. And of course about her moments with the wrangler. Jo stops her when the intern shares a little too much information about the heated kiss in the water, the ranch owner’s daughter putting her fingers in her ears and singing ‘lalala!’ to overrule the juicy details.

Dean can’t tell what the girls are talking about, but he has a hunch. He smiles content with a beer in his hand, watching them giggle and clearly having a good time. Y/N taunts him every now and then, and he can’t help but smirk when she sips from her cocktail again. She’s gonna be the death of me, he thinks to himself.

The saloon is pretty busy, guests lingering after the arrival of the herd, having a few drinks to celebrate. He takes a second to absorb the ambiance. Cheerful conversations, laughter, eight-balls colliding on the pool table, country tunes playing. It’s much like the evening right before the new intern arrived. He had no idea how his life was going to change, but it did. His gaze lingers on her again, her wide smile and sparking eyes lighting up the room. God, she’s breathtaking. His chest grows a little tighter, but he has grown accustomed to the sensation. It terrified him at first, but now it feels comforting and warm. Dean knows what it means, he understands it, and although he’s still intimidated by what lays ahead, he is excited. This could be the beginning of a new chapter, hell, a whole damn book.

“So, you and Y/N, huh?” Staggered, Dean snaps out of it and turns his head to the person on the other side of the bar. It’s Ellen, who apparently noticed her nephew’s longing looks. She’s restocking the fridge under the counter, a dish towel draped over her shoulder and an amused expression on her face. The arched eyebrow surfaces frown lines, her knowing smile reaching her light brown eyes. For a second Dean considers denial, but stops himself, very much aware she will see right through it. Instead he stays quiet, a blush on his cheeks which his freckles can’t hide. “Please don’t tell Uncle Bobby,” he pleads, keeping his voice down. “You don’t have to whisper, he’s deaf as a doorknob.” She sets four bottles of IPA down on the counter, flipping the caps off swiftly. “And I personally think he wouldn’t mind.” Dean scoffs. “Oh, he would. He told me not to get involved with her.” “Well, he told me I wasn’t allowed to buy Jo a horse for her sixteenth birthday, and look what happened,” Ellen reminds him, the memory of the surprise gift with four legs still vivid, causing them both to chuckle. Bobby was grumpy at first, but Jo was ecstatic. One glimpse of his happy daughter took the old man’s bitterness away in an instant. “He won’t make a fuss, honey. Believe me.”

“What makes you think that?” he wonders, nursing his beer. “Because I’ve never before seen you look at a girl like you look at her,” she returns, hinting at Y/N. The corner of Dean’s mouth curls up a little as he drops his gaze; she knows. He’s not surprised that Ellen is able to read him like an open book, she always had her way of deciphering what was going on in his head. He exchanges a look with his aunt, before she walks away with a tray of beer, the unspoken understanding saying enough.

Just like on that evening when Y/N walked into his life, the phone rings. Not Bobby’s cellphone this time, but the landline. Ellen whips her hair over her shoulders while serving out the drinks, her hands still full. “Can you get that, Dean?” In response, the wrangler stands up from his stool and circles to the other side of the bar. Before he picks up the phone, he glances at the display, frowning when he notices the area code. 207; isn’t that up North? “Gold Canyon Ranch.” “Yes, hello. Is Y/N nearby? I’ve tried to call her cell, but I can’t reach her.” Dean looks over his shoulder at the intern. She didn’t bring her phone on the trail, she wouldn’t have had reception up in the mountains anyway. The man’s tone on the other end of the line sounds serious. “Yeah, she’s here,” he returns. “Can I ask who’s calling?” “Her father.”

Dean freezes, staring at the liquor stash on the shelves in front of him. Fuck. It’s her father. Her father! The wrangler has exactly 0.2 seconds to collect himself, but several thoughts already chase each other in his mind. Holy shit, and I’m messing with his daughter. And I was worried about Bobby?! “Uh, I - I’ll get her,” he stammers, leaving the phone next to the machine. Before Dean turns around, he takes a breath. Why would her father call? Just to check up on her? It seemed urgent, and he tried to reach her before. What if something has happened at home? Dean closes his eyes as he feels his stomach constrict. What if she has to go back?

The cowboy swallows thickly and makes his way to the table in the far corner. He can see her expression fall when she notices the concern on his face, instantly reading in his body language that something is wrong. When he reaches her and Jo, he leans on the table, his knuckles white on the surface. “Your father’s on the phone,” he notifies. “What?” she returns, staggered. “My dad?” Dean nods. “Yeah, he said he tried to call you.” She quickly reaches for her back pocket, where she usually carries her Iphone. She got so used to not having the device on her, that she didn’t even miss it. “Did he say what it’s about?” she asks, confused, as she gets up from her seat. “He didn’t,” he says, trying to keep his tone unchanged, not wanting to worry her more than necessary. “You can take the phone in the kitchen, you’ll have some more privacy.”

She nods a little bit dazed, takes a beat and then heads to the kitchen. Jo and Dean walk with her, staying behind the bar, offering her space. Through the round windows in the doors, they can see Y/N pick up the phone, but her voice is shut out, the saloon too noisy. “I wonder what’s going on,” Jo says out loud. The head wrangler doesn’t say anything, but grinds his teeth, his jaw set. His heart is beating faster than it should, drumming in his ears. Trying to distract himself, he grabs a beer from the cooler and flips the cap off with an opener, but he can’t stop his head from over-analyzing. Shit, what if this is it? What if her father wants her to come home? They were just beginning to grow closer, he was finally allowing himself to feel something. What if it blows up in his face?

“Dean.” Jo calls him back from his spiraling thoughts and he turns to peer through the small window. What he sees might just confirm his fear; Y/N has her hand clasped over her mouth. She’s facing away from them, but whatever her dad told her, it clearly impacts her, the pale fluorescent light harshly illuminating what seems to be a tragic scene. Dean’s hand is on the door handle before he can think twice, but his cousin grabs his arm. “Give her a moment,” she insists. Reluctantly, he waits, keeping a close eye on her. After another minute, she hangs up, but remains where she is, still processing the news. Now Dean does push the door open, stepping into the kitchen, cautiously. “Y/N? You okay?” The young woman who has him worried turns around, as if for a second she forgot he and Jo were waiting for her. Her eyes are glazed over, emotion evident, but Dean can’t quite guess which. As if she’s unable to believe what she just heard, she scoffs. “I’m - I’m going to ride at Congress,” she stammers. Her best friend’s jaw drops, staring at her stunned. “Congress?” Jo checks. “As in the All American Quarter Horse Congress?! The biggest show of the year?!” Y/N nods, still not sure if this is real. “I sent in an application in March after I won the State Championships. I wasn’t sure if I had enough points to qualify, and when I didn’t hear back, I just figured...” she pauses, chuckling. “They sent the invitation to the university campus. Mom and Dad only received it last week.”

Her eyes meet Dean, who stares back surprised. He has heard of Congress. It’s the most important Western riding event in the country, the event every equestrian owning a Quarter horse dreams to be a part of. It’s the biggest single-breed horse show in the world, the competition where the best face the best. Earning a spot on the starting list is a mission in itself, entering the massive arena is an honor. But right now, he couldn’t care less about statistics. He huffs a laugh, his shoulders relaxing in relief; Y/N isn’t going anywhere. Even better, her wish is about to come true, and witnessing her happiness right now, is all he could wish for himself. “Holy shit...” he stammers, grinning wide. “You’re going to Congress!” Jo exclaims. The blonde cowgirl can’t contain her excitement any longer and jumps into Y/N’s arms. Knowing exactly how much this means to her friend, Jo hugs her tight. Absolutely glowing, she returns the embrace, the kitchen filling with their laughter, while Dean watches with a wide smile on his face. “Well, if this ain’t a reason to raise our glasses, I don’t know what is,” he comments. “Yes! I’ll get the tequila!” Jo announces, dashing back to the bar to gather the liquor. “Wait! I have to train Meadow, I can’t waste another day. Congress is in three weeks!” Y/N protests, when her friend grabs her wrist to drag her out of the kitchen. Jo snorts. “You had two margaritas, hon. You’re not getting on that poor horse.” “But I should at least lunge her, and my freestyle needs work…” Y/N protests.

Before they move through the double doors, she pleadingly glances over her shoulder at Dean, but for once the cowboy agrees with his cousin. “You can train first thing in the morning, Yankee,” he assures. “See? Now let’s celebrate!” Jo has already turned the music down, catching the attention of the ranch workers and the guests. “Y’all! Guess who qualified for the All American Quarter Horse Congress?!” she exclaims, pointing at her friend, proudly. “Well, slap my head and call me silly,” Benny responds surprised. Garth grins wide, too. “I knew our Yankee could ride, but dang it! That’s impressive.” Ellen, who was wiping down a table, leaves the cloth on the counter and dries her hands on her jeans, before opening her arm for Y/N as she closes the distance between them. “Sweety, that’s amazing. Congratulations,” she says warmly, hugging the intern who is becoming a part of the family. Bobby comes over to congratulate her as well, same as the other ranch workers, and even the tourists she spent the past couple of days with. In the mix of receiving all the praise, her eyes meet Dean’s, who watches her from behind the bar, a content smile playing on his lips. She mirrors his expression and in that little moment they share, time stops. As if for a second it’s just the two of them in the saloon. They don’t need words, he doesn’t have to wish her best of luck, she doesn’t have to hear him say it. The subtle wink he sends her way, combined with the warmth in his eyes is enough; he’s happy for her.

“I don’t know about y’all, but I think we should drink to this,” Benny - of course - proposes. “Free round on me!” Y/N promises, earning a loud cheer. Chuckling, Dean takes the first pint glass in hand and pulls the lever of the beer tap towards him, letting the golden brew swirl into the shaker. He has a feeling this will not be the last round, and Y/N, for once, is indulging in the fun too. She’s always so focussed, eye on the prize. He appreciates how committed she is to achieving her dreams, how passionate she is, but sometimes she forgets to stop and enjoy how far she’s come. He replaces a full glass for an empty one without wasting beer and starts to hand them out. Today they will drink on recent victories, tomorrow they will work on the ones that will follow.

Thank you for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to like or reblog my work, shoot me a message or buy me coffee (Link to Kofi in bio at the top of the page).

Read part seventeen here

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angelofthequeers · 4 years ago

Text

One Brain Cell Between Three People

Rating: T

Summary: Or: five times these disaster humans had to disguise themselves and the one time they didn't.

Slot: 2.5k+ fic.

Written for an anonymous donor for the @mlbforblm drive, with all profits going right to Color of Change! I hope you love these disasters! The response to the drive was absolutely overwhelming, and I’m touched to have been commissioned for it!

AO3 link

1. From an akuma

“So, Ladybug!” Chat Noir says brightly. “If you’ve got any brilliant plans to get us up to Sauron out there, I’m sure we’d love to hear them!”

Ryuuko doesn’t have a clue who Sauron is, nor how it relates to the massive tentacled monster with one gigantic red eye that’s resting on the tip of the Eiffel Tower. They’ve tried coming from all angles, but the akuma’s eye seems to have a full three-hundred-and-sixty-degree field of vision, because it always sees them coming and bats them away as easily as swatting mosquitoes.

“Why do I have to come up with the plans?” Ladybug grumbles. Chat Noir’s cheeky grin widens.

“Because you’re the brains, milady, and I’m just the humble clown.”

“Your brain was working just fine against Miracle Queen!”

Ryuuko tunes out their banter as she peeks around the corner of the wall behind which they’re hiding. Her brain leaps from idea to idea like arcs of lightning, zapping each one to a crisp when she picks out the flaws, because all of them rely on not being seen and there’s no way to accomplish that against this akuma. It seems to have flawless superhero senses, because it always sees right past the terrified civilians to pick out the superheroes –

Wait…

“I have an idea,” Ryuuko announces. Her teammates’ banter immediately dissipates. “The akuma is ignoring anyone who isn’t directly working against it. It’s almost like it just wants to keep surveillance on everyone.”

“You could say it wants to keep an eye on people,” Chat Noir says cheerfully. Ladybug sighs and facepalms.

“Low-hanging fruit, kitty,” she mutters. Ryuuko just raises an eyebrow and waits for them to finish.

“If we want to get close, we need to not be what it’s looking for,” she says.

“Like sneaking into Le Grand Paris disguised as a pizza delivery person because that’s not what Chloé Bourgeois is expecting you to be even though she knows you’re trying to get back something she stole from you?” Ladybug says. Chat Noir blinks.

“That’s, uh…incredibly specific,” he says. “And I’m not sure I want to know why. You were saying, Ryuuko?”

Unlike Chat Noir, Ryuuko does want to know the context behind Ladybug’s very specific example, because it’s exactly the kind of thing that Marinette would do. The thought of her girlfriend brings a small smile to her lips, just as when she thinks about her boyfriend Adrien. It’s a pity they aren’t superheroes, to be honest; they’d be fantastic, but Ryuuko’s not in any position to make suggestions, so she keeps this to herself.

“Different,” Ryuuko finally manages to say. “We need to not look like superheroes.”

“Disguises!” Ladybug jumps from foot to foot. “I’m so good with disguises! I’ve snuck into the hotel! And a party everyone threw for the guy I liked who’s now my boyfriend since I wasn’t allowed in for being a girl –”

“Why, milady, if your boyfriend didn’t recognise you beneath your strong disguise, he can’t be that much of a keeper,” Chat Noir says.

“My boyfriend is very much a keeper, thank you very much!” Ladybug huffs. “He’s one of the smartest people I know! Apart from Ka – uh, my girl –”

“Akuma,” Ryuuko interjects. Ladybug and Chat Noir jump.

“Right! Akuma!” Ladybug unslings her yo-yo. “There was a costume store on the next street over! For disguises!”

Getting to the store takes far longer than it should, but since there’s a giant eye in the sky, Ryuuko’s sure they could be forgiven for having to be extra slow and cautious. Once Ladybug’s shut the doors behind them and dragged over a chair for good measure, the three of them get to work browsing the multitudes of costume clothing and accessories to find the best pieces to conceal their most obvious features.

“I wish all akumas could be this fun,” Chat Noir beams as he tries on a cowboy hat. “They’re all get out there, get the crap beat out of us, milady comes up with an amazing plan, we’re done. Not that I don’t love the times I get to see Ladybug, of course.”

“I know what you mean,” Ladybug says. Ryuuko slaps a hand over her mouth to smother her giggles at the sight of Ladybug, hero of Paris, wearing a massive blue feather boa and round glasses. “We’ve been doing this for so long that it’s become…monotonous, you know? The only real variety is my Charm.”

“Not the akumas?” Ryuuko says as she selects a long blonde wig, then shudders and replaces it after a moment. Too similar to Chloé Bourgeois. And while they might both be rich girls with mother issues, Ryuuko refuses to think of herself as anything like that spoilt brat, especially after the stunt she’d pulled as Miracle Queen.

Okay, so Ryuuko doesn’t actually remember that, and Chloé does apparently have some semblance of a heart, but still. Ryuuko’s not known for her forgiveness, especially with how much nastier Chloé’s been since that incident.

“Milady! Milady!” Chat Noir yanks out a ladybug-patterned onesie. “I could be you!”

Ladybug snorts. “In your dreams, kitty. You could never be me.”

“But I was once!” Chat Noir tilts his head like a curious kitten would. “Remember?”

“Yes, and you were just amazing at it,” Ladybug says dryly.

“You weren’t any better, Lady Noire!”

“Excuse me? I was perfect!”

“Explain the Cata – uh, power mess-up, then!”

“I still had to figure out the Luc – the Charm!”

“And I could’ve told you not to dust the sentimonster!”

Ryuuko just ignores their arguing this time. Maybe it’s better for them to get it out now, so that they’re focused when facing the akuma. She loses track of time as she sifts through the costumes, wondering why she’s even being so picky in the first place since it’s just to disguise herself from an akuma. Then again, Kagami Tsurugi would never be caught dead in a clown costume, even as Ryuuko. Maybe it’s a good thing to have more refined tastes.

“Hey, guys!” Ladybug says. Ryuuko turns to see Ladybug picking up a large box, having dumped its contents on the ground, and she grins and drops it over her head. “Look, I’m a bug in a box! The perfect disguise! He’ll never know it’s me under here!”

“Come on!” Marinette’s whisper is marred by giggles as she holds out boxes to Adrien and Kagami. “Let’s hide from your bodyguard in these! He’ll never know it’s us under here!”

In that moment – by the silliest way possible – Ryuuko suddenly knows. Now there’s a name to the face beneath the scarlet mask; the face with the bright blue eyes and freckles, framed by pigtails – pigtails! – and currently wearing the same silly smile that Ryuuko has seen a thousand times as Kagami and looks forward to seeing a thousand times more.

Oh, it’s too bad that she can’t tell Adrien that he’s dating Ladybug. His massive superhero crush on her is more obvious than the fact that there’s next to nothing in that pretty head of his. Actually, that’s not fair; Adrien is very smart, but he’s also one of the densest people that Kagami has ever met. Being with him is just like working with Chat Noir, who’s got a very sharp mind when it’s needed –

“Does this make me the Chat in the Hat?” Chat Noir says as he dons a top hat and Ladybug’s laughter grows louder.

– but is also far more of an idiot than anyone has the right to be. It’s a wonder that poor, bi Kagami didn’t trip over herself around Chat Noir like she did with Ladybug, considering how similar he is to Adrien –

Ryuuko freezes. No. No way. There’s no way all three of them could be that lucky; that Marinette and Adrien, Ladybug and Chat Noir, were pining for each other this whole time, that Ryuuko fell for the two people who happened to be the heroes of Paris, that there’s a reason why Chat Noir showed her so much care after she was Oni-Chan and why Ladybug was so sweet and understanding of her failures as both Kagami and Ryuuko –

“– something picked out, Ryuuko?” Ladybug’s – Marinette’s – voice pierces the fog that’s descended on Ryuuko and shrouded her thoughts with realisation after realisation as she combs through every memory of her interactions with them. “I mean, this has been really fun, but we probably should get back to doing actual superhero things.”

Ryuuko takes a deep breath to ground herself. She’s far better trained than this; she shouldn’t allow herself to be so distracted during a mission. “Yes, I’m ready,” she says and grabs the first armful of cloth and accessories that she can find. She can fall apart later. Right now, she has a job to do, and she’s not going to let her partners down.

2. From Paris

Kagami loves her boyfriend and girlfriend. She really does. But there are times where she wonders if being with them is worth the constant emotional turmoil that they always seem to put her through.

“The fattoush looks good,” says Adrien, who’s seated across from Kagami. The fact that he’s wearing a hideous straw brim hat and sunglasses so appalling that they would give his father an aneurysm on the spot is the source of Kagami’s current agony. “But I’m tempted to go for the kibbeh, just because Father would die if he knew that I was eating something fried.”

“Do it,” Marinette says immediately. Kagami’s pain is compounded by the fact that her girlfriend is wearing a pair of glasses with a large fake nose and moustache attached, along with a sickeningly horrible pink poncho. But then again, for a budding fashion designer to wear something so awful? Maybe she’s smarter than Kagami had first thought.

Of course she is, says a traitorous little voice in Kagami’s brain. She’s Marinette. She’s Ladybug. But even being Ladybug isn’t enough to save her from Kagami’s judgement. Why couldn’t Adrien and Marinette have just worn an oversized hoodie like she did?

Okay, so it’s Adrien’s oversized hoodie, and the smell of him envelops her like a warm hug whenever she ducks her face down beneath the collar, but still.

“Done,” Adrien says and slams his menu down. The couple at the next table over stare at him, but his disguise seems to work because they might think he’s a weirdo, but they don’t appear to think that he could be Adrien Agreste. “What about you, Gami?”

As always, Kagami’s insides flutter at Adrien’s use of his and Marinette’s nickname for her. She clears her throat and squints down at her menu, which may as well be written in English what with how nothing seems to compute in her brain, and she blurts out the first thing she sees. “Shish barak.”

Marinette wrinkles her nose. “Sure, if you’re into yoghurt.”

“Does that mean you’re gonna steal just my food?” Adrien complains. “Maybe I should order the shish barak too, so you leave my food alone.” He’s promptly shut down by Marinette giving him a quick kiss on the cheek.

“No, you’re getting the kibbeh,” she says.

“Yeah, I’m getting the kibbeh,” Adrien parrots robotically. Marinette smiles sweetly.

“And I’ll have the djaj mashwi,” she says, while Kagami ponders the merits of slamming her head on the table at the sheer display of Ladybug and Chat Noir energy from her two oblivious idiots. “I’m in the mood for chicken.”

Kagami pushes all thoughts of clobbering her partners’ heads together away as Adrien plays foot wrestling with her under the table and Marinette waves a waiter over to order. For now, she’s just going to enjoy this silly date in their silly disguises.

3. From Lila

She’s everywhere.

She’s hanging off Adrien on his way to fencing. She’s tangling their legs together when she crashes their study dates. She’s smothering the air around them with her cloying citrusy perfume as she laughs far too loudly at Adrien’s joke during a friends’ hangout.

And there’s nothing that Adrien can do about it. If he does one thing that even hints at defiance, Lila Rossi will go running straight back to tattle to his father like the venomous little muse she is. Even the fact that Adrien’s taken – by two people – has done nothing to dissuade her. If anything, she takes this as an open invitation.

“Oh, this kind of thing is very common in Italy!” Lila had crooned one day when Kagami had – very politely, in her opinion, since no swords were involved – asked her to please take her hands off Kagami’s and Marinette’s boyfriend, thank you very much. “It was so good to learn that Adrien had two girlfriends! There’s so much love in his heart…and so much room for more…”

It’s a sunny afternoon after school when Kagami finally snaps. Not at Lila; no, she knows very well what Gabriel would do in retaliation if his precious spy was hurt in any way. Rather, as soon as fencing is over and she’s changed out of her sweaty gear, she barges into the boys’ bathroom with her heavier-than-usual fencing bag.

“Kagami!” Adrien yelps and slaps his hands over his nipples. Kagami rolls her eyes.

“You don’t have breasts, Adrien,” she says with every ounce of patience that she’s had to curate since learning her partners’ secret identities. “And it’s nothing that Marinette and I haven’t seen before. Speaking of Marinette, hurry up and get dressed.”

“Why?” Adrien hurries to throw on his top, further confirming Kagami’s suspicion that he’s started changing after fencing as slowly as possible to put off the moment he has to leave and be accosted by Lila. “Is she hurt? Did Lila or Chloé throw her over the balcony or something?”

“Not yet,” Kagami mutters. She rummages in her fencing bag for Adrien’s oversized hoodie that she’s…ahem, delayed returning. Because she has definitely intended to return it. Eventually. Which is now. “She’s letting Lila…spout hot air? Is that the saying?”

“And you left them alone together?” Adrien snatches his hoodie and tries to yank it on so quickly that his head ends up caught in the sleeve with his arm. Sighing, Kagami helps him correct his mistake while trying as hard as possible not to let her fond smile at her boyfriend’s dorkiness slip through.

“Marinette can handle herself.” Kagami fishes out a pair of sunglasses and a green baseball cap. “It’s Lila I’d be worried about. In any case, she’s keeping Lila occupied, but there’s only so much threatening and bragging that Lila can do before she grows bored.”

“Then what’s –?”

“We’re sneaking you out. Come on.”

Kagami tugs Adrien over to one of the tiny windows in the bathroom. Then, in one smooth movement, she crouches and cups her hands for Adrien’s foot. Gritting her teeth and drawing on every bit of athletic strength she has, she propels Adrien up to the window and locks herself in place so that he can pop the latch and push the window open.

“Damn it!” Adrien curses when the locker room door opens. Kagami prays it’s not –

“Adrien?” Lila’s sickly-sweet voice echoes in the locker room. Thank goodness for bathroom doors, or she’d have caught them in a heartbeat. “Where are you? I didn’t see you walk out.”

With newfound fervour and a boost from Kagami, Adrien grabs the windowsill and propels himself upwards. He almost doesn’t fit – Kagami holds her breath when he ends up stuck halfway out and curses – but then he forces out a loud breath of air for just that little less abdominal width and manages to slide fully out the window. Kagami just has to assume that he’s fine and has no serious injuries from his landing, although being hurt would probably be preferable to him over dealing with Lila.

She gives it to the count of ten, then flushes a random toilet and washes her hands before pushing the bathroom door open. Lila immediately materialises in front of her.

“Kagami! Hi!” Lila says with a very fox-like smile. “I wasn’t expecting you to use the boys’ bathroom.”

Kagami shrugs. “After you called me a boy with boobs the other day, I figured it shouldn’t matter if I used the boys’ bathroom. There’s really no difference except for the urinals. And the stench. I wouldn’t recommend it.”

“Oh, I was only teasing.” Lila sounds like she was doing anything but. “Where’s Adrien? He’s usually finished changing by now.”

“I don’t know,” Kagami says with another shrug. “He’s not in the bathroom either, though. You can go and see for yourself.”

Before Lila can take up any more of her precious time, Kagami brushes past her and out of the locker room. As soon as the door swings shut behind her, she lets her giggle break free into her hand and pulls out her phone to check in with her accomplices – er, her partners. Now she truly understands the saying “being bad has never felt so good”.

4. From an akuma take 2

“I seriously want to know what goes through Hawkmoth’s mind half the time,” Misterbug complains. He deflects a burst of pink perfume with his yo-yo, then ducks so that Lady Noire can jab Princess Fragrance with her staff. “Like, remember the days we thought he was Mr Agreste? And then I realised ‘no, he can’t be, because Mr Agreste at least has some creativity!’”

Ryuuko isn’t sure whether she wants to pat Misterbug on the head in agreement or slap him to get his head back in the game. To be fair to Hawkmoth, Puppeteer had been one of his most powerful akumas with her ability to control someone if she has a doll or similar representation of them, so akumatising her for a third time isn’t too foolish of a move. And considering that Ladybug and Chat Noir merchandise is very widespread, the decision to swap their Miraculouses like with Reflekdoll had been inevitable. Ryuuko’s never been more grateful that she’s not considered a steady enough temporary hero to have merchandise made of her, so there’s no way for Puppeteer to control her.

If she’s honest, Ryuuko can’t really scold Misterbug for not fully focusing. Not when she has to spend a whole mission with her girlfriend in a tight black catsuit. And while Ryuuko is very much asexual, only a fool would deny the sheer beauty of Marinette Dupain-Cheng with a long braid and a suit sculpted to her body and an uncharacteristic smirk on her face that’s much more reminiscent of Chat Noir than Ladybug. If Ryuuko had even an iota of artistic skill, she’d spend hours just trying to capture Marinette’s beauty in all forms, starting with the feline goddess who’s just managed to trick Silencer and Jackady into hitting each other. Silencer immediately starts to cluck like a chicken, while Jackady frantically starts shuffling his cards, trying to make his power work without his voice.

“Heads up!” Tortue Verte’s shield whizzes over Lady Noire’s head and nails Darkblade right in the face. She whoops and punches the air. “Strike! I could so get used to this.”

“As hot as you look in my colours, babe,” says Foxtrot, using his flute to keep panther Animan’s jaws away from him while he’s sprawled on the road, “I kinda miss Rena. And using the shield. Never thought it’d suck to have merch of me.”

Knowing that Ladybug is Marinette, Ryuuko’s almost certain of the identities of Tortue Verte and Foxtrot, aka Rena Rouge and Carapace. But considering that they’re in the middle of a battle and there are several brainwashing akuma puppets, she buries that thought very deep down and instead focuses on deflecting one of Reverser’s paper planes with her sword. There’ll be time later to muse on secret identities, when they’re not in the heat of one of the most chaotic battles that Paris has ever seen.

5. From Gabriel

Death is far too good for Gabriel Agreste.

“Breaking up with Adrien is the last thing we’re going to do,” Kagami says as Marinette sobs hysterically into her chest on the soft pink chaise. The anger simmering beneath her skin is almost at boiling point, threatening to bubble over and explode out of her, and her crying girlfriend is the only thing keeping her grounded. One of them has to be on the lookout for akumas, and it’s most definitely not going to be Marinette in her current state.

“B-But you heard M-Mr Agreste,” Marinette chokes out. “He’ll p-pull Adrien from school. And – your m-mother – we’re j-just a d-distraction to you – he said she told him –”

“Rubbish.” Kagami runs her fingers through Marinette’s hair and presses a soft kiss to her head. So many years of being hard, of compartmentalising her irrelevant and distracting emotions to please her mother, to live up to the Tsurugi name, and then she’d met the boy and girl of her dreams and now she’s alive, and she feels so strongly, and no one is going to take this away from her. What is honour if it means turning her back on those who need her? On those she cares about?

“B-But –”

“No. Marinette, listen to me.” Kagami cups Marinette’s cheek and guides her face up. The sight of her girlfriend’s red-rimmed blue eyes is enough for the poisonous rage inside her to almost break free, but she forces it back down as though it’s a rabid animal on a leash. If Marinette gets akumatised, all is lost; not only because she’s Ladybug, but because she’s one of the kindest, sweetest, most amazing people that Kagami has ever had the fortune to meet. And if Kagami gets akumatised, the emotional toll of having to defeat and purify her will more than likely be too much for Marinette to bear after everything else that’s happened today.

“Kagami…?”

Kagami blinks and shakes her head to clear her tumultuous thoughts. Later. She can process her own emotions later. For now, Marinette needs her.

“I’ve never been more focused since meeting you and Adrien,” Kagami says. “And if Mother even tries to argue, I have a whole presentation prepared. I’m serious. I have it saved on my flash drive.”

Marinette lets out a weak giggle. Kagami basks in the glow of this laughter, as tiny as it is, because it’s tangible proof that, as awful as she can be interacting with other people, she’s improving. She knows enough to support one of the people dearest to her.

“Mother might not have been happy, but she didn’t try and interfere,” Kagami continues. “She said that so long as my focus did not waver, she would give me her tentative blessing. I suspect that Adrien’s father has spoken to her and persuaded her that you are a negative influence on me and Adrien. That will change once I talk to her.”

“And…Adrien?”

“We’ll work it out.” Kagami leans in and leaves a soft little kiss on the top of Marinette’s nose, and she’s rewarded with another watery yet musical giggle. “The only thing we’re not going to do is break up with him. That will crush him. We’re going to tell him exactly what his father said.”

“We can’t!” Marinette jerks back and almost topples backward off her chaise, if not for Kagami’s arms around her. “Mr Agreste will pull him out of school and he’ll never get to see his friends again and he’ll know it’s all my fault and he’ll be unhappy for the rest of his life and end up turning to evil and working with Hawkmoth and we’ll never marry him and have three kids – more if you want them but I want three and they’ll be Emma and Hugo and Louis – and a hamster called –”

“How do you even have enough breath to say all of that?” Kagami says, trying not to pass out just from following Marinette’s catastrophising ramblings. Marinette laughs rather hysterically.

“It’s a gift. But we can’t tell him! He’d refuse to break up and I’d be responsible for him losing everything!”

“Shouldn’t he have that choice?” Kagami says. “Everyone around him tries to control him. Adrien deserves to be able to make that choice. And this isn’t solely on your shoulders. We’re both dating him.”

“But…how do we talk to him?” Marinette whispers. Now she’s slumping against Kagami with fluttering eyes, as though she’d just participated in an extremely strenuous bout of fencing and is two minutes from passing out. Considering her anxiety-ridden ramblings from just before, she probably has exerted that much energy, just mentally rather than physically. “His father will never let him out. We’d have to stand at the front door, and he’d know as soon as we tried to talk to Adrien.”

“We default to our usual plan.” Kagami gently untangles herself from Marinette so that she can cross over to Marinette’s wardrobe and start rummaging inside. “Disguises.”

“But what good is that going to do?”

“Plausible deniability. Adrien’s bodyguard is a very firm ally, but even he can’t ignore direct orders. However, if he allowed Adrien out to talk to some friends instead of his girlfriends…”

“Of course!” Marinette breathes. Kagami is suddenly tackled from behind and is forced to throw her hands out and grab the sides of Marinette’s wardrobe to prevent herself from faceplanting. “Gami, you’re a genius! I love you, I love you, I love you!”

The poisonous anger that had been burning through Kagami’s body dissipates at Marinette’s words and gives way to soft warmth, like the sun is shining inside her. Once her legs are steady underneath her, she turns and wraps her arms around Marinette, who’s now trying to plaster every inch of her face with kisses.

“I had to bring something to this relationship, didn’t I?” Kagami says. “You and Adrien are far too chaotic to be left alone. Come on, help me pick out some disguises so we can go and talk to Adrien.”

Kagami had never imagined that Hawkmoth’s defeat would go this way.

It was supposed to be glorious. A fantastic final battle full of clashing superpowers and pumping adrenaline.

But no. Adrien had caught a glimpse of Nooroo – Hawkmoth’s kwami – during a visit to his father’s office to confront Gabriel for his stunt regarding Marinette and Kagami and trying to break the three of them up. From there, it had been far too easy for Ladybug and Chat Noir to simply sneak in and steal the Butterfly Miraculous after Adrien had somehow slipped some sleeping pills into his father’s expensive whiskey.

(Or rather, Plagg had done that part, but Kagami’s not supposed to know about her boyfriend being Chat Noir, so she’s considerately refrained from pointing out the flaws in the “official” story).

Gabriel and Nathalie – aka Mayura – had been arrested the following day. In the wake of their arrests, Kagami had thought that Adrien would jump at the chance to be done with them and pretend they never existed. But her boyfriend had proven that, despite the years of emotional abuse he’d been forced to endure, he’s still got one of the biggest hearts that Kagami has ever seen.

“I love them,” Adrien had whispered into a midnight three-way cuddle, finally allowed to crack and break down after so much time fearing the consequences of emotional vulnerability. “After everything they did to Paris…to me…there’s a part of me that still…I don’t want to forgive them, but I don’t want to hate them. I just want them to…not be. You know?”

And that leads to now. Kagami, Alya, and Nino have been gathered in Adrien’s temporary suite in Le Grand Paris, where he’s been staying until his bodyguard can be awarded permanent custody since Emilie Agreste had been laid to rest just days before.

“Thank you for coming,” Ladybug begins, wringing her hands. “I know that there wasn’t really a final battle or anything –”

“Pity,” Nino mutters. “Been looking forward to smacking that guy in the face for years.”

“– but I still wanted to thank you for stepping up and putting yourselves on the line,” Ladybug continues, while Chat Noir’s lips twitch at Nino’s comment. “I trust the other heroes, of course, but you three are, well…I’d trust you with my life. And with what Chat Noir and I are about to reveal.”

Chat Noir’s lips quirk again, but it’s hollow. A small part of Kagami wonders if it’s appropriate for her to know exactly why, when even his own superhero partner doesn’t know.

“Even though Hawkmoth and Mayura are gone, there’s still so much to do with the Miraculouses,” Ladybug says. “Petty crimes, little acts of goodness…and figuring out how to do this whole Guardian thing. Part of that is not leaving the kwamis locked up in the Box for centuries. So, now that Hawkmoth is gone, and identities aren’t an issue anymore…”

Alya almost faints when Ladybug retrieves the Fox Miraculous from her yo-yo and holds it out. She stretches her hand out to take it, pauses with her fingers right above the golden chain, and she only snatches it away and hugs it to her chest with squeals of ecstasy when Ladybug smiles and nods. Nino actually yanks Ladybug in for a tight hug when she gives him the Turtle Miraculous before letting go to talk to the turtle kwami that had materialised, just as Alya is currently chatting away to the fox kwami so fast that her words are almost just a buzzing sound.

It takes every ounce of willpower for Kagami to not lose her composure and shriek when Ladybug presents her with the Dragon Miraculous. Instead, she forces herself to contain the energy that’s vibrating beneath her very skin, and she bows her head and accepts the choker from her masked girlfriend.

“Greetings, Kagami-san!” Longg says once she’s appeared in a flash of red light. “I am thrilled that you are to be my permanent holder!”

“As am I, Longg-sama,” Kagami says with a smile and holds out a hand for Longg to settle on.

“Now that that’s out of the way,” Ladybug says when Kagami, Alya, and Nino have finally exhausted themselves from excitement, “Chat Noir and I have something that we want to tell you.”

Chat Noir reaches out and takes Ladybug’s hand with a small smile. Alya looks like she’s going to burst with excitement, but that’s nothing compared to her reaction after Ladybug and Chat Noir utter their next words.

“Spots off.”

“Claws in.”

As soon as their transformation lights fade, it becomes painfully obvious that they hadn’t revealed themselves to each other before this moment. Alya’s screaming – muffled into a pillow to avoid security rushing up to them – and Nino’s wordless gaping are to be expected. What’s not expected is the way Marinette and Adrien take one look at each other, then squeal and jump apart.

“Oh my god, it’s you!” they bellow. Their kwamis, meanwhile, are doubled over in mid-air with laughter.

“Dude!” Nino holds up his hands with the look of someone who’s doing ten equations at once in their heads while being utterly awful at mathematics.

“My best friend is Ladybug!” Alya shrieks. “Since when? How the hell didn’t you two figure it out from being together? Is that why you gave me the Fox? And missed class all the time? And all the times you flaked – you were off being Ladybug – my best friend –”

Kagami just stands in the centre of this storm and smiles down at Longg.

“And you!” Alya jabs a finger at Kagami. “How the hell did you manage to land Ladybug and Adrien Agreste? Tell us mere mortals your secret!”

“You’re not even surprised?” Marinette splutters. “How did you –?”

“Because unlike others in this room…” Kagami takes a step forward and leans in. Marinette and Adrien lean back with wide eyes and pink cheeks. “I have a brain cell.” Then she leans back and savours the mixture of indignation and awe on her partners’ faces. She might pay for this later, but for now? She’s going to savour this sweet, sweet victory while she can, before Marinette and Adrien team up to punish her.

She won’t complain too much, though. She’s sure they’ll work out an appropriate punishment…like kissing her until her brain melts. She can live with that.

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incorrectjiiquotes · 4 years ago

Note

So many quotes to choose from as for what to request in celebration of you getting 50 followers (congratulations for that by the way). I want to know if you can make a story out of "I got 2 free tacos!"?

The sun shone high in the sky. The day was warm and the breeze was cool. It was a perfect summer day. Because of this absolutely wonderful day Dreamfinder, Dr. Channing, and Figment had all decided to visit a nearby carnival.

The carnival was absolutely bustling. There was an ocean of people. It was almost impossible to go two steps without bumping into someone else. Besides the crowds it was incredibly noisy from the sound of the ride engines running to shouts of vendors trying to hawk their products. Dr. Channing was staring at one of them and was simply incredulous. “Look at what they’re trying to sell Blair. An internet connected juice press. Who would even buy such an idiotic product?” Dr. Channing said. His words however fell on deaf ears as Dreamfinder was too fascinated by the ride that stood before them.

“That is simply an amazing mechanical marvel.” Dreamfinder said, not looking away from the ride that stood before him.

“I guess it could be considered impressive, but I wouldn’t trust it. It’s likely poorly constructed. I’m surprised it hasn’t fallen apart already.” Dr. Channing said. He immediately felt like something was missing. He looked around. “Wait a minute… Where’s Figment?” He asked.

“He’s on the ride.” Dreamfinder pointed to one of the arms where Figment was happily riding along.

“Of course, he is.” Dr. Channing said.

After about a minute the ride stopped, and Figment got out of the little car and met back up with Dreamfinder and Dr. Channing. “That was so much fun!” He exclaimed. “What are we going to do next? Play carnival games? See a show? Ride more rides?”

“I think we should just walk around and see what catches our eye.” Dreamfinder said.

“That’s a wonderful idea! Let’s go!” Figment said. He started racing through the crowd.

“Figment slow down!” Dr. Channing shouted. Dreamfinder and Dr. Channing began to chase Figment who was flying at incredible speeds. They were able to catch up as Figment had stopped abruptly.

When they finally caught up to Figment, they saw what he was staring at it was a stage with two slanted boards painted blue and orange. In front of the stage was a woman behind a table with sign that said, “Sign up here” Next to the boards were four orange beanbags and four blue beanbags. There was a man dressed up like a stereotypical carnie complete with the red and white pinstriped shirt and a boating hat. He was shouting into a megaphone. “Step right up and join the cornhole tournament! Anyone can enter! Anyone can win! All it takes is an arm to throw!”

“This sounds ridiculous.” Dr. Channing said dismissively.

“I wanna sign up for it!” Figment exclaimed.

Dr. Channing sighed. “Of course, you do.”

Figment zipped over to the sign-up table. “Can I join the tournament?”

“Alright.” The lady behind the table said. “Now, I’m going to need to get your first and last name?”

“Figment Mercurial-Channing!” Figment said.

“Alright. You’re signed up. All you need to do now is wait for your number to be called. The tournament will start soon.” She handed him a lanyard with a card that read contestant number 15.

Figment went back over to Dreamfinder and Dr. Channing. “Look at this neat lanyard I got!” Figment exclaimed.

“Do you know when it starts?” Dr. Channing asked.

“I dunno. The lady said it would start soon, but I don’t know how soon is soon.” Figment said.

“Alright I guess we’ll just have to wait for it to start.” Dreamfinder said.

The carnie was still shouting his lunges out about the tournament, but after about 2 minutes of waiting, the announcement they were waiting for came. “Sign-up is now closed! The games are about to begin!” He reached down and got the clipboard from the lady behind the table. “Alright our first two contestants are Harleen Quinzel and Bella Goth! Come on up Harleen and Bella!”

The first two of the contestants climbed onto the stage. “Do both of you know the rules to cornhole?” Both women nodded. “Alright then let’s get on with it!”

The initial competition between these two was fierce. Beanbags flew all around the stage. Soon it was over. “Alright then… now our winner with 6 points is… Harleen! Congratulations Harleen!”

Harleen began to cheer and Bella left the stage dejectedly. The carnie called up the next set of competitors, and once again they began to play. “Wow… I never thought people would take a game called cornhole so seriously.” Dr. Channing said.

“They seem really good… I don’t know if I’m going to be able to win.” Figment said.

“Of course, you can win! You are very great at throwing things.” Dreamfinder said.

“He’s right remember that time you threw 5 pieces of paper into the waste basket from all the way across my lab.” Dr. Channing said.

“Yeah… you’re right I can do this!” Figment said.

They continued to watch the competition while they waited. After a few matches they heard what they were waiting for. “All right for the last match of round one we have Figment Mercurial-Channing and Link Hyrule!”

Figment flew up to the stage, and his opponent climbed up to stage. His opponent was a blond teenage boy. Figment grabbed the orange beanbags, and Link grabbed the blue beanbags. There was couple seconds where Figment felt like a cowboy about to begin a high noon duel. “Ready. Set Go!” The carnie said.

The first battle was over in mere seconds. “The winner of this battle is… Figment Mercurial-Channing! Congratulations Figment! You move on to the next round!”

The next two rounds almost came and went. His opponents, Franziska von Karma and Tulip Olsen, both were incredibly good at cornhole. Figment was lucky that he managed to advance. The final round came up. It was all down to this. “We have reached the final round. Our final two contestants are Figment Mercurial-Channing and Dr. Heinz Doofenshmirtz!”

Figment was incredibly nervous, he looked over to his dads and saw that they were cheering for him. That gave him some confidence in this. Figment saw that his opponent looked like some kind of pharmacist. “Alright. Ready! Aim! Fire!” The Carnie said.

Immediately Figment and Doofenshmirtz began to throw the bean bags in a frenzy. Figment was only focused on whether or not his beanbags were going into the hole. The first one missed the board completely. His second throw made it into the hole. His third and fourth ones missed. Though the fifth, sixth and seventh didn’t. All it was up to these last three bags. He had to make them count. The seventh went in but the eighth and ninth didn’t. The tenth one almost missed but it made it into the hole.

“Alright now we are tallying up the points. The winner of today’s prize is… Figment Mercurial-Channing! Congratulations Figment! You have won a voucher for three free tacos at Tardigrade Tacos!” The carnie handed Figment a little piece of paper.

Figment rushed down to where Dr. Channing and Dreamfinder. “I won! Did you see it?!” Figment said.

“We did see it. You were amazing.” Dreamfinder said.

“That had to be the best game of cornhole that I have ever seen.” Dr. Channing said.

Figment was practically vibrating with excitement. “I wanna get my tacos now!” He flew over to where the Tardigrade Tacos stand was to get his tacos.

“A voucher for three free tacos is a rather disappointing prize isn’t it?” Dr. Channing asked.

Dreamfinder nodded his head. “It is, but Figment is excited about it, so we should just let him have it.”

Figment came back with a bag of three tacos. He pulled out two of the tacos and handed it to Dr. Channing and Dreamfinder. “Here ya go! Now we all have tacos.” Figment.

“That’s very nice of you, Figment.” Dreamfinder said.

“Thank you.” Dr. Channing said.

Dreamfinder, Figment, and Dr. Channing went to a nearby bench and sat down enjoying the tacos that Figment fought so hard to win. After they ate the tacos they went out and enjoyed the rest of their day at the carnival.

#fangirlmary #not a quote #minific #Dreamfinder #Dr. Nigel Channing #Figment #AO3 link will be in replies #sorry this took longer than expected #mini fanfic

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shozaii · 4 years ago

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Hello! I'm new to your blog and I'd like to ask for a transfer student (gn if its easier on you) from Texas to UA. Like class 1A is told that they're having a new student from Texas and they think to throw a wild west welcome party. Reader doesn't have the heart to tell everyone they're from the city so they just go along with it and maybe them and bakugou end up alone after the party and get to know each other some? Thank you!!!

(a/n):hello anon! thank you so much for the request!! this is really interesting and i hope i did my best!!🥰

p.s- so i read this over and over again and what i understand from here is that reader comes from the city; not from the wild west. i hope i got that right! :’’)

———————————————

texas beaut .

a bakugou katsuki x reader oneshot

“did you hear?! we’re getting a new student!!”

“a new student? cool! i can’t wait to meet them!”

“do you think they would give me their number? now i’m worried...”

“oh my god. shut up you idiots,” bakugou told his friends, having the last few bites of his dinner in the dorms.

“what’s your take on the new kid, man? pretty sure you have something to say,” his red friend said, ignoring the cue for them to quiet down.

“huh? i don’t know. heard they were from... Texas or something. damn deku was talkin’ about it,” he said.

he watched as his friends jump up and down, discussing on even bigger plans. he did hear a few - mainly a welcome party, showing them around school, so many things that he knew he could show interest in. knowing him, he was about to play the “chill guy who’s pretty nonchalant about the new kid thing.”

i mean, they’d probably be an okay person. he thought while zoning out.

“hey, bakugou! we need you for this!”

^^^

“settle down, 1A!” iida said for what seemed like the umpteenth time today, as everyone scurried to their seats. the discussion of the wild west themed party was still going on,and it’s halfway done.

in came aizawa-sensei with his sleeping bag. “now. i’ll make this quick. all of you have heard it - we do have a new student. come in, y/l/n,” he waved his hand to someone outside the door, as the class turned to the door, waiting for someone to enter.

as y/n entered, they received various ‘oohs’ from half of the class.

bakugou turned to look at the whole scene unfolding, and when he did, he didn’t regret it.

usually, when it’s someone new, he tends to look away from it as soon as possible. it didn’t seem to buy his time. but right now, it was the total opposite.

his palm which stayed on the jaw now went out of it’s place.

something about y/n pulled him into curiosity. they’re from a different country. they have decided to travel all the way from Texas to UA. of course there could be a reason. but to think that they transferred here - wow.

aizawa-sensei snuggled into his yellow sleeping bag, giving you the floor.

you adjusted your tie, taking in deep breaths. “hello! my name is (y/n) (y/l/n)! i’m so glad to be here! i hope to know much more of your school and also to be friends with everyone here!”

while talking, you took a good look around the classroom.

there was a green-haired boy, eyes gleaming with excitement. a red-haired boy with cute pointy teeth. a girl with pink rosy cheeks. a girl who has earphone jacks on her ears. a dual-color eyed boy.

a spiky blonde haired boy, with ruby red eyes, looking directly at you. something about it was very peculiar.

a few questions in and you noticed your homeroom teacher crawling out of his sleeping bag. “you done? alright. head over to your seat there. the next teacher should be here pretty soon. 1A, you know what to do,” he said, walking out of the door.

you made your way to your assigned seat, and sat down. moments later, a few of your new classmates turned to look at you, introducing themselves. you laughed. it was definitely a new kind of feeling.

especially when you felt the same bright red eyes looking at you.

“um, what’s that boy’s name over there with the blonde hair?”

^^^

“hey.” you heard him say as he approached your desk after a whole day of stealing glances. you weren’t weirded out by that either - considering the fact that you were curious about him too.

everyone talked to you during the school hours, except for him.

it was only the both of you left in the class. the class rep, iida, handed over the key to him. they left, saying sorry a number of times because they had lots of work to complete back in the dorms.

you did need assistance back to the place too. you weren’t used to the school just yet, so having one person as a company would definitely help.

“oh, hello! um, i’m still new to all this, but how do i address you?”

“king explosion murder.”

“woah! really?” you chuckled.

“no,” he snorted at first, but then looked away immediately. “bakugou. look,i’m gonna get straight to the point. i got a pretty tight schedule, ya know? now, put these on.”

“blindfolds? oh, they have cute little eyes on them! are they yours?”

“hah? no way. it’s dunce fa- kaminari’s.”

“okay... wait, but why do i need to put these on?”

“just put them on and....and trust me. hurry up.”

you obliged, sliding them onto your eyes. he then held your arm, indirectly telling you to start walking.

so you did. he was a great company, even though you didn’t get to see his face. he held you back in case you looked like you were about to fall/ hit something nearby. other times, he was quiet.

and it wasn’t like it was awkward silence, either. it was a pristine one, as there were small talks in between. him trying not to snicker with how you stretch your arms out to walk, and him giving you directions.

it was nice.

he then told you to stop, and you heard a large door opening. he brought you in, and you assumed that he closed it behind the two of you.

“alright. take ‘em off,” he mumbled.

the second you did, you saw party streamers flying everywhere, with balloons hanging. you saw the entirety of 1A wearing cowboy hats or boots, and bandanas either tied on their wrists or their necks.the decorative banners had little horses on them, with mini Texas flags, and basically what you would see in the wild west. kaminari was playing the harmonica with so much of passion.

it was cute, but this was all for you?

but how were you supposed to tell them-

“welcome to UA, y/n!” they screamed, rushing over to you, with some engulfing you in warm hugs and high-fives.

“oh my lord! this is amazing, thank you so much!” you smiled widely, clapping your hands. “and the decorations! this is amazing!! i really appreciate your hard work.”

maybe now’s not the time. a cake, self-made. and the decorations. some were handmade, you could tell by the adorable drawings. the setup itself was glorious. so no, you didn’t want to shatter their efforts.

this was still amazing, regardless.

“so, are you ready to cut the cake y/n?! sato and bakugou worked on it,” mina - the pink haired girl - pointed to the both of them.

“of course! i’m pretty sure it tastes so good,” you said, walking towards the wide table with the lovable bunch.

^^^

the common room was cleaned up really quickly. not a lot of mess was made but cleanliness is priority for sure.

“so... you were zoning out quite a lot lately. what’s up with you?”

bakugou looked into your eyes. you gulped a little, setting down your drink. “nah, it’s nothing-,”

“was the cake out of taste?” he raised an eyebrow. “pretty sure i used the right ingredients. sugar boy over there knows his ways with desserts. or was it the food?”

“woah, woah, chill out bakugou! no, the cake was perfect.i loved it a lot. like,i would eat it again.”

he cleared his throat, backing away. “damn it. okay, cool. then what was up with you? no one asked you up to this point, so there.”

“um... okay. you have to promise me not to tell anyone about this then.”

“i knew it.”

“wait! it had nothing to do with the party. absolutely nothing. but keep it a secret. promise me?” you held out a pinky finger, waiting for him to do the same.

he looked at it, hesitated; but gave in anyway. “whatever. i promise. what is it?”

“how do i say it... i’m not, um, from the part of where the wild west is? more like.... i’m not exactly from this part of Texas. yes, i am familiar with this type of culture, but i wasn’t exactly raised with it.”

he blinked a few times, and nodded. “oh.”

“and it’s not like i wasn’t hating it at all! this was already one of the best moments i’ve had so far in the academy; which makes me look forward to more! it just made me sad that i did have to admit it sooner or later. on the other hand, i was so happy.”

“geez, i told them about it,” bakugou placed a hand behind his neck. “gonna have to ask this again - was this whole party thing okay?”

“yes, don’t worry about it!”

“i’m not worried! i just didn’t want to think i wasted my time prepping for this!” he said.

so he was worried.

“worried or not, this was very eventful. you’ve outdone yourself, bakugou katsuki.”

he smirked. “ha, you don’t seem bad yourself.”

“why, thank you. the same goes to you, good sir,” you bowed.

“hey. multiply that by 10.”

“no fair!”

the talk went on for quite a while. the bakusquad were bewildered by how bakugou didn’t seem to complain to you about his bedtime, but then again, they loved seeing their friend - usually really worried about his schedule - finally beating it while making friends with the texas beaut.

———————————————

(a/n): beaut ; a fine example of something. it sounded really wholesome to me, so i went with this title. i hope you liked it! <3

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pra370r1an · 4 years ago

Text

Lost Santos Dreams - TOH/Fake AH Crossover

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29233251 TW: Blood, Violence, Death

New to Los Santos, the Beta crew dream to make it big. However, they're about to learn the hard way why the top gang has an almost mythical status in the criminal underworld...

“I’m not wearing that!”

“Oh, calm down. It’s cute!”

“I said I wanted a lion, Noceda!” Amity snarled.

“It is a lion!” Luz held up the lion mask, complete with a bright cheerful smile and rosy cheeks.

“I wanted a fierce one, not a children’s mask! There was a bloody lion mask there last week, why didn’t you get that one!?”

“Then you should have bought them! Besides this way we match!” Luz held up her own mask, a winking otter with a wide smile. “Back me up here Willow!”

Willow sat driving next to Luz, sunny sunflower mask already on her face. She turned and briefly glanced at Luz, who was half turned around to see Amity in the back of the van.

“This seems like a lot of arguing for something we are going to destroy later, since its EVIDENCE.”

“Oh, you’re both no fun,” Luz sat back and pouted. She tossed the lion mask into the back, “Just wear the damn thing, Blight.”

A voice crackled in her earpiece, “Are you guys done fighting each other? Cuz there’s still a job to do.”

Willow raised a finger to her ear to respond, “They’re fine Gus. Just how they are. Now we’re almost there so codenames people. Illusionist run us through one last time.”

“You got it Venus. The three of you go in. Princess kills security and controls the crowd while Luzura beelines to the tellers and stops the panic buttons.”

“Don’t fuck it up Luzura,” Amity teased from the backseat.

“SHHH, I’m trying to listen,” Luz whispered overly dramatically while pointing towards her earpiece.

“Quiet in the peanut gallery,” Gus deadpanned. “Meanwhile, Venus grabs the manager and grabs whatever she can from the vault.” Willow grunted from the front seat, too focused on driving in a mask to contribute. “All the while, I’ll work my magic and keep the alarms off and the cops off your backs. Simple.”

“It’s never that simple Twerp,” Amity grumbled as she put the mask on, and fixed her hair over it. The dyed green hair forming the lion’s mane around her mask.

“Why do you keep calling me that, Princess?” Gus groaned. “Alright I’m all set up here, ready to go when you are.”

“We’re here,” Willow pulled over outside of Grand National Bank.

“What’s that tag?” Luz looked at some graffiti on the bank by an alley, a green rubber duckie encircled in a green crosshair.

“It’s how gangs claim territory in Los Santos,” Amity double checked her rifle before cocking it. “It’s nothing to worry about. No self-respecting gang would use a rubber duckie,” She scoffed.

“You did check this place with Ed- er… the Owl Lady, right?” Luz asked Willow. “I don’t want our first official act in this city to be piss off a major gang.”

“It’s fine Luzura,” Willow double checked her body armor.

“Would you stop worrying?” Amity snapped. “We’ll be in and out before anyone is the wiser.”

Luz glared back at Amity, “Fine.” She grabbed her bat and opened the door.

The girls exited the van, and Luz took the three in. Willow had her usual trenchcoat on, hair cut short and combat boots, the sunflower mask a sharp difference from her outfit. Amity for some reason wore a bright pink outfit, skirt and all; which with the smiling lion mask gave a vibe of cheerleader at Halloween. Only the spiked bracelets and collar contributed to the danger of the AK she wielded. Luz had stuck with the classic, a striped shirt and green army jacket with a beanie. Of course, the winking otter mask sealed the deal.

With a quick nod, the three hurried up the stairs. Luz was the first to the door bodychecking it open and sprinting inside. Willow hurried in next and Amity strolled casually after, her assault rifle already leveling at the security guards.

Willow raised her pistol and let out a burst into the air, Civilians screamed and cowered away from them.

“HANDS UP AND GET DOWN NOW!” Amity threatened the under armed security guards with her ‘Blight’ voice. A tone which commanded respect.

Luz, running a fair distance ahead, raised her bat and slammed it into a lone guard on the other side as she passed. The man crumpled and Luz kicked open the door to the tellers.

“ALRIGHT HANDS UP! THIS IS A STICK UP!” She shouted as she threatened the tellers with her pistol. The tellers threw their hands away from the panic buttons and towards the ceiling.

“Oh my god, can you be more cliche?” Amity grumbled.

“No fighting,” Willow commanded as she hauled some well-dressed man up off the floor. “Ok, Mister Manager. Time to see the safe.”

“I-I don’t understand! We paid for this month, why are you here!?”

“Shut up and move!” Willow shoved him towards the back.

Luz meanwhile led all the tellers out of their room and had them lay with the rest of the hostages. Amity patrolled the room, her rifle just itching and a growl in her throat.

“Tellers secured,” Luz announced as the last person exited the room.

“Good work Luzura. How’s it going in the vault Venus?” Gus asked.

“This asshole won’t stop blabbing about the Fakes? Ever heard of them?”

“Sounds familiar, but I’m not too up on West Coast criminals.”

“The Owl Lady would know probably,” Luz said into her ear piece.

“Who cares? Let’s just get the money and get out,” Amity shook her head.

“Alright we’re good. Heading back upfront,” Willow gave the call after a few minutes. “How’s the street look Illusionist?”

“Looks good on my end. Wait…” Sounds of rapid typing filled their earpieces. “There’s someone else in the system. Fuck they’re good.”

“What? Who? Cops? Bank IT?” Willow sounded incredulous, as she tossed some bags to the others. Luz slung hers over her shoulder before turning towards the doors.

“Too good for them. Fuck, I don’t know what they want but you might not have too much time.”

“It’s fine we’re done here,” Luz shoved the door open with her shoulder.

“LUZURA GET DOWN!”

The van at the bottom of the steps exploded, knocking Luz on her ass in the open door. Looking around she saw a sports car parked a bit further down, the driver dropping an empty rpg tube into the backseat. He idly fixed his purple suit jacket (over an orange shirt? Who wears that?) and ran a finger along his white Stetson towards Luz with a smirk.

A lanky well-dressed blonde in gold sunglasses grinned next to the passenger seat, but it was when the trunk closed and two more people stepped around to the front that Luz moved.

She scrambled backwards, slamming the door closed and started shouting at everyone, “GET BACK! AWAY FROM THE DOOR! MOVE QUICK!”

She dove over the central desk as bullets started flying through the door, peppering it with holes. Outside the noise was unrelenting as the thick wooden doors were slowly turned to scraps. Luz thought she heard screams but couldn’t tell if it was civilians or her friends as she huddled behind her cover.

After what seemed an eternity, first one then another door fell off the hinges absolutely wrecked. The hail of gunfire stopped, though the ringing in Luz’s ears continued.

Gus’s voice was the first thing to pierce the ringing, “Guys!? What’s going on!? I lost visual feed!”

“I-I’m ok!” Willow sounded unsure for the first time since Luz met her. “Princess? Luzura? What was that?”

“That would be company toasting our ride!” Luz responded, using the lull to check her gun. “No way that was cops! What kind of bank did you bring me to!?”

“Isn’t it obvious? It’s a mob bank. A well-armed one. Ah Fuck!” Amity grunted in pain.

“You going soft on us Princess?” Luz asked with no small amount of concern.

“In your dreams, Luzura,” Amity snarled.

Luz went to say something else but a high British voice called out, “Now that is how you make an entrance Boi!” Gripping her pistol and bat, Luz slowly looked over the counter seeing the four enter the door. The lanky well-dressed man with golden shades was gesturing around with a golden deagle and a grin.

Next to him, a man in a leather jacket scowled at the Brit, “Yeah, that’s why I did it, idiot!” The man’s minigun still smoked from pulverizing the door.

“Aww, Mogar. Let him have his fun,” A redhead woman laughed as she draped herself over sunglasses.

“Can you guys focus?” The color clashing cowboy cocked his AK, “Hey Fuckers! You and your friends are dead!”

“Whelp. We’re screwed,” Luz whispered into her earpiece.

“Giving up already Luzura?” Amity’s laugh turned to a hiss.

“That’s it! I’m heading over! Where the fuck’s my gun!?”

“Chill Illusionist! There’s only four, and if it’s their bank they won’t use that minigun inside. They’re all bluster,” Luz could almost hear the gears turning in Willow’s head.

“They already used it on the door and Princess is hurt, we’re still at a disadvantage,” Luz shot back, trying to keep sight on the four without being seen. The three had started moving further into the bank, while leather jacket (Mogar?) stood guard at the door.

“It’s just a scratch,” Amity hissed.

“Ok, an AK and two pistols. AK is heading left of the doors and pistols are going right,” Willow must have a better vantage than Luz. “Princess move towards the AK and try to get a drop on them. I’ll go the other way and try to draw the pistols away. Luzura stay down and wait for an opportunity.”

“Copy,” Amity responded.

“What about the mini?” Luz asked.

“It’s intimidation Luzura!” Amity snapped.

Luz only grumbled as she checked her pistol for the twentieth time. She could hear someone just on the other side of her cover.

“Come out, come out where ever you are…,” The redhead sang softly. Luz tensed with her pistol, watching the lip of the counter.

Suddenly, Willow’s automatic pistol barked to Luz’s right. “Ahh! Shite!” The Brit’s gun fired twice, “Phoenix, a little help!?”

The redhead groaned, “C’mon Golden Boy. You can’t take one pistol?” Luz saw her moving forward to take cover by the teller windows, not noticing the girl behind her.

“HEY FUCKER!” Amity’s AK barked on the other side of the bank, “ARE YOU COLORBLIND OR SOME SHIT!? I MEAN PURPLE AND ORANGE!?”

“SAYS THE GIRL WHO CAN’T DECIDED BETWEEN PUNK OR PREP!” More automatic fire rang out. “THOUGHT YOU WOULD UNDERSTAND!”

“Ok, OK! I’M IN! …and I’m out…” Gus called out, “Shit. This fucker is good.”

Willow’s pistol let out another burst, and Golden Boy’s gun shot back. The redhead leaned forward to peek over the teller window, and Luz lined up her pistol. As she was about to pull the trigger, Willow’s gun fired and bullets bounced off the bullet proof glass above Phoenix’s head.

The redhead ducked from the fire; her head turned to press against the counter. The girl’s eyes went wide as she met Luz’s stare.

“FUCK!” The redhead spun pulling her gun up. But Luz’s gun barked in panic unloading the gun into center mass.

Behind Luz a wail was heard, before the whirling sound of a minigun coming to speed was heard. Luz hated being right.

She shot up and ran to the left, as bullets started flying shredding her hiding spot. Running as fast as she could, hyper aware of the hot lead that seemed one step behind her.

“SHIT, SHIT, SHIT!”

Luz dove into an empty office just as the gunshots turned to clicking of an empty chamber. Mogar screamed again, and a large metal thud sounded as the empty minigun landed close to the office door.

“LUZ!?” Amity shouted in concern.

“Fuck that was close,” Luz kicked the wood door shut then scrambled behind the desk. Gunshots rang out outside the office, and Luz patted herself down looking for another mag. Finding one last mag she reloaded, “Bad news guys, I lost my mask. How are you?”

“Only you Luz…” Willow sighed.

“Dumbass,” Amity’s AK barked again.

“Love ya too,” Luz chanced a peek through the window. Mogar was kneeling by Phoenix, holding her hand. He leaned down and cupped her face for a moment before standing up and firing a bullet into her head. He turned snarling towards Luz.

“Shit!” Luz ducked back down, holding her bat and gun tightly. “These guys are fucking hardcore. He just executed his teammate!”

“Fuck!” Amity growled, “How are we going to get out of here Venus?”

…

“Venus?”

“Oh, sorry. Was that this lovely bird with the trenchcoat?” Golden boy’s accented voice came through the earpiece. “She can’t come to the phone right now. May I take a message?” He asked in good humor.

“YOU SON OF A BITCH! WHAT DID YOU DO TO HER!?” Gus roared over the coms.

“Nothing she didn’t try to do to me, I assure you mate. Besides, if you didn’t try to rob from the FAKES then this wouldn’t have happened.”

Gus continued to yell and rage but Luz was distracted by the gunfire shattering the windows in the office she was hiding at. Luz yelled in surprise covering her head from the glass.

“LUZ,” Amity screamed over the comms, her gun going off again. “JUST DIE YOU FUCKER!”

“Hey! Ottergirl!” Mogar yelled, “You killed my wife you Bitch!” He fired off a few more times with his pistol, “Come out coward!” His gun clicked empty.

“I’m no coward! Now eat this Sucker!” Luz shot up and unloaded her pistol at the man. He stood there calmly reloading as the shots flew by him, the entire time glaring at Luz. Luz slowly lowered her empty pistol, “So…Would you accept a heartfelt apology?”

Mogar growled, stuffing his pistol back into its holster. He cracked his knuckles and neck as he strode confidently into the office. Luz tossed the empty gun at him, then raised her bat.

Luz swung, keeping Mogar on the other side of the desk. He snarled at each swing, before grabbing a chair and chucking it at Luz. Luz yelped and swung her bat, smacking it away. This was the opening Mogar was waiting for, and he went low driving a fist into her stomach. Quick as a flash, his other fist connected with her face.

Luz’s head rung and she tried to get away, swinging her bat rather weakly in a vain attempt. Mogar easily blocked it and grabbed Luz, throwing her over the desk and back into the bank proper.

Luz rolled to a stop, using her bat to attempt to get up. She wiped some blood from her lip and glared at Mogar.

“HEY!” Amity yelled from the side. She stood there sans mask with a pistol under the cowboy’s neck, holding him hostage. “Let her go or this colorblind idiot gets it.”

“Again, it’s very insulting when you say that. I am not an idiot,” The man slowly reached up and took his hat off.

Mogar huffed and pulled his gun out.

“Hey! I mean it!” Amity shouted, forcing the gun into his neck even harder.

“I’ll see you back at base Rimmy Tim,” Mogar leveled his gun at the pair. Luz tried to stand but fell back to her knees.

“Just make sure you bring my hat this time. Don’t feel like another raid on the evidence locker this week,” Rimmy Tim smiled completely at ease as Mogar pulled the trigger.

Amity looked shocked as Rimmy Tim went limp, dropping his body and looking at the blood that smeared onto her hand. “What the fuck?” Several gunshots rang out and Amity dropped.

“NO!”

Luz drove her bat towards Mogar’s legs, knocking him onto his back. She jumped on top swinging. They devolved into an absolutely feral fistfight. Both giving as much as they got, as they rolled round trying to gain the upper hand.

Climbing on top once again, Luz slammed a fist into his face. In the daze she managed to get her hands around the man’s neck. Mogar snarled up at the girl, his hands trying to break her grip or punch her off. But in her rage, Luz was beyond caring of a few punches.

Pistol-whipping, however?

A shiny gold handle slammed into Luz’s head, knocking her off Mogar who gasped for breath. Luz’s vision swam for a second before clearing back up. Faintly she was aware of Gus yelling, seeing as her earpiece was knocked out of her ear.

“Now, now. None of that Love,” The Golden Boy’s voice casually said. “Too much killing already so I can’t have you offing my boi.” He shrugged as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Fuck you and your Boy!” Luz spat out some blood. “He killed my Girl!”

“You killed my wife…” Mogar choked out between coughs. The Golden Boy rolled his eyes.

“So dramatic. Sorry Love, all’s fair and all that,” The Golden Boy leveled his golden deagle at Luz’s face. “That’s just how the milk crumbles the biscuit sometimes.”

“What the fuck does that even mean?” Mogar snarled at the Golden Boy.

“Oi! Don’t be rude, Micoo!” Was the second to last thing Luz heard.

BLAM

Luz shot up, looking around wildly before realizing she was in the bedroom of her new apartment. She winced at the horrible headache splitting her skull. Her sheets were covered in sweat and she panted from the scarily clear nightmare she had just awoken from. With a sigh of relief, she fell back onto her pillow to stare at the ceiling, cursing the throbbing headache that clearly influenced her dreams.

Unfortunately, her tentative plans to just go back to sleep to avoid dealing with said headache was cut short with a ringing phone. With a groan, she patted her pockets for her cell. Idly she realized she must have fell asleep without changing into her pajamas, as she pulled her work cell out and answered.

“What!?” Normally, she was more chipper but the headache felt as if it sucked all the life from her.

“Christ, Luz! Finally!” Amity snarled with a bit of relief. “Willow! I got Noceda!” Amity called into the background before asking the one question she never asked Luz, “Are you ok?”

“What? Yeah, just got a throbbing headache. And apparently, I slept in my body armor,” Luz’s free hand started unstrapping the Velcro on her armor. “That’d explain that freaky dream I had.”

“That we tried to rob Grand National Bank then were killed by a rival gang?”

Luz stopped, concern forcing its way into her thoughts, “How did you know that Amity…?”

“You should turn the news on Luz…”

Luz sat still for a second, before shooting off the bed. Scrambling into the next room, she grabbed the remote and flicked the tv on.

“-orning gang violence erupted down at Grand National Bank, as two rival criminal factions had a shootout in the front lobby. There are reports of numerous casualties as well as the criminals getting away with thousands of dollars. Eyewitness accounts claim several of the assailants fell during the shootout, but LSPD has refused to comment.”

The blood rushed to Luz’s ears and the news reporters’ words seemed to become distant as they showed pictures and grainy video of the shootout. There her and her friends reenacted the dreams events as they faced off against the FAKES. She slumped onto her couch and just watched.

Slowly she became aware of someone calling her name from far away. Looking down she realized that her cell was still connected.

She put it against her ear again, “What the FUCK happened!?”

#The Owl House #achievement hunter #Fake AH Crew #Luz Noceda #Amity Blight #Willow Park #Gus Porter #Betas #Michael Jones #Lindsay Jones #Gavin Free #Jeremy Dooley #Immortal AU #GTA AU #pra370r1an

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belphegor1982 · 5 years ago

Note

That blonde woman who was with Jonathan still waited his call for days and jonathan didn't know how tell her "sorry for not call you, my nephew was kidnapped by a mummy and you know"

I started writing a reply and it turned into a fic :3 (Thanks a LOT - again - to @thisstableground for the Britpick! And Em, I hope you don’t mind that I published it before you sent it back. I know you’re crazy busy, I just hope RL is being kind to you.)

Call Me (on AO3 / on FFnet)

To think the evening had begun so well.

Minnie – real name Winifred Cooper, but who used real names in this game – had found a suitable rich idiot, they’d had a few drinks, made attempts at conversation (not that she really listened to him; one rich twit was as good as another and the only thing rich twits were good for in the end was money), and after a bit of a snog he’d taken her home for more.

His ‘home’ looked like a manor. Minnie couldn’t believe her luck.

Unfortunately that was when the evening went from promising to just plain weird. And not the fun sort of weird, either.

Judging from the look on her toff’s face – Jonathan, he said his name was, and he did look like a Jonathan more than she did a Winifred – people with stormy looks on their faces barging into his room wasn’t part of his plans.

“Oh, sorry,” he said with a nervous grin, “we must be in the wrong house.”

Minnie’s smile froze. But he’d had the keys and everything…?

“I thought you said this was your house,” she said, eyeing thestrange men in red robes striding towards her and Jonathan. Wait, wasthat a knife in the bloke’s belt!?

One of the men roughly pulled her away. She had ample time to checkthat this was, indeed, a very long, very deadly-looking knife with ahilt that appeared to be made of ivory and looked quite valuable.

The pitch of Jonathan’s voice climbed several notches when heretorted, “No, I didn’t!”

Minnie was about to protest, but a quick mental review of the evening– even accounting for the fact that she had only listened to hisprattle with one ear – confirmed that he had never actually saidthe house was his. Now she thought of it, it was even doubtful thathe’d said he even lived there.

But he had said he was rich. Several times, in fact.

Minnie resisted the thug manhandling her for a couple of seconds tostick her head in the door and say, “Call me!” just in casebefore the red-robed stranger closed the door in her face.

The next minute she realised the futility of her request. Whoeverthose men were, whatever the reason for their presence – and shehad a hunch it was about money – Jonathan was undoubtedly notgetting out of the room in one piece. She had wasted an entireevening on a man who was probably neither rich nor a complete idiotand almost certainly going to meet a ghastly end. The best thing wasto discreetly retrieve her coat and bag from downstairs and leg itwhile she still could.

…The door to the corridor was locked.

Minnie’s grandfather had been a hansom cab driver, and the old dearhad taught her a number of colourful and very creative oaths. Sheexhumed half of them from her memory to curse the air blue.

And then screamed as gunfire erupted from the next room.

In a haze of terror she tried to break down the door, only to findthat the hinges were on the inside. She looked about wildly andspotted a large wardrobe.

Minnie didn’t stop to think. She flung herself among the clothesand slammed the door shut.

The gunfire continued, louder than the earlier thunderstorm. She madeherself as small as she could, flinching every two seconds, her eyesscrewed shut. It seemed to last a long, long time.

After what felt like hours, Minnie realised that silence had fallen.There was no sound at all except the creaks of the wood when sheshifted. Maybe it was safe to come out, after all – even thoughshe’d have to cross the next room to get out. Considering whatshe’d heard, she wasn’t that keen on it. There were probably goryremains splattered everywhere in that room.

At least she’d be out of this madhouse, though.

Her hand found the door of the wardrobe and she pushed.

And pushed.

And spewed the rest of her grandfather’s curses when the damn thingdidn’t open.

Minnie raged, she cried, she whimpered, she swore, but she remainedlocked inside the wardrobe. At some point she gave up and slumped onthe floor between the coats, trousers, and dresses, thoroughlymiserable.

Wait, dresses?

Either Jonathan was a little more unusual than she’d thought or thelittle weasel was married and had kept mum about it. She was usuallyso skilled at spotting the traces a ring left on a man’s finger,too.

She spent a long time wondering exactly when the evening had turnedinto such an unmitigated disaster and feeling sorry for herselfbefore she gave in to boredom and fell asleep.

.⅋.

Minnie was abruptly woken up by a footstep approaching her hidingplace and the door being yanked open.

She screamed.

Jonathan screamed.

He stopped first and clutched his chest dramatically.

“Good God, woman,” he gasped, “what the hell are you doinghere?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” she snapped, all too awareof the countless little kinks and aches in her body and the fact thather mascara must have painted black tracks on her cheeks. Jonathan,she noted, looked dishevelled and tired, but completely unharmed. Howon earth…?

Minnie made to clamber out of the wardrobe, her whole body stiff andawkward. He didn’t help her out, too busy goggling at her.

“The bloody door was locked,” she spat, trying to untangle herlegs. Her tight dress wasn’t helping any. “And I wasn’t aboutto intrude on your little party, was I? Especially not once peoplestarted shooting all over the place!”

As if on cue, a tall man in a blue shirt ran into the room, holding agun in each hand and pointing both of them at her and Jonathan.

She gave a high-pitched squeal, and Jonathan yelped.

“Who are you?” the man asked with an American accent, his eyesnarrowing at her. “No, wait, I don’t care. Jonathan, take care ofit – and when this whole thing is over you and me are gonna have achat. Remember, twenty minutes.”

And he was gone in the blink of an eye.

Minnie was too angry and frazzled to be surprised.

“What is wrong with you people!?” she cried. “Costumedfreaks! Machine guns! Bloody… cowboys! What the hell?!”

“Well,” said Jonathan with a weak attempt at a smile, “at leasta resurrected mummy didn’t try to kill you. I’d count that as awin.”

Minnie stared at him, still vibrating with anger and residual fright,and opened her mouth. Nothing came out. She pushed past him andstormed out, only stopping on the entrance steps of the house.

It had stopped raining, but humidity hung in the air and it wascolder than even an English June night had any right to be. Thecountryside might be less smoky and dirty than London, but it wasalways colder, stranger, always reminding her that she felt better inthe middle of bustling traffic and busy streets. She belatedlyremembered that the nearest train station must be at least ten milesaway and cast a forlorn glance at her shoes, knowing they would notlast nearly as long. Then it hit her that she had left her coat andbag somewhere inside the house, and she sank on the stone steps witha frustrated sigh.

After a while, she started badly when she felt something heavy andwarm drop on her shoulders. The familiar perfume registered beforeshe recognised the coat as the one she’d worn earlier tonight,before the madness started.

Jonathan handed her her bag and sat clumsily beside her, drawing ahip flask from a pocket. He had changed his clothes, and lookedmarginally less foolish without his wilted dinner jacket.

“I called you a taxi,” he said.

You’re the taxi,Minnie almost retorted. She curbed the automatic childish sarcasm andwiped her cheeks with the heels of her hands.

She really could have done with some of what must be in that hipflask.

“Sorry about that wardrobe. The door’s always been a bittroublesome.”

Oh, what the hell. Might as well make small talk.

“I thought you said it wasn’t your house,” she said in alow voice. Jonathan didn’t smile, but something twinkled in hiseyes. He took a mouthful from his flask and threw her a sidewayslook.

“I never said that.”

“Then what…?”

“It’s my family’s house. My sister lives here with her husbandand her son. Rick’s actually a good chap when you know him, he’sjust a little on edge – what with those blighters in the red takingEvy, then the whole nasty business with Imhotep and the mummies onthe bus, then Alex being kidnapped…”

Minnie watched him rattle off things that made absolutely no sense atall, wondering if she should actually wait for the taxi to come pickher up or get away from him as fast as she could. Curiosity overrodesense.

“So Alex is your nephew?”

“Hm-hm.”

“And he’s been kidnapped?”

“That’s right.”

Minnie usually considered herself a pretty good judge of when peoplewere lying or not – when she decided to pay attention, anyway.Jonathan’s voice sounded on the offhand side of neutral, but thelittle worry lines around his mouth and the deep crease between hiseyebrows told her that, of all the nonsense she had witnessedtonight, this at least was real and personal.

“How old is he?”

“Eight.”

Something tightened in the region of her chest. Toff or not, that wasan awful thing to happen to a kid so young.

“Eightyears, three months and, er,seventeendays old,Ibelieve.” Jonathan rubbeda hand over his face and let out a slightly shaky breath.

Compassionand anger were having a go at each other in Minnie’s mind. How darehe. How darehe make her feel sorry for him and the kid. Whoever had kidnapped thechild were probably after the kind of ransom you’d expect peopleliving in a stately home like this to pay: the familywould either call the police or pay a lot of money and everythingwould be right as rain.

That hipflask was looking more and more tempting by the minute.

Everything– the evening she’d had, the damp cold despite her coat, theawkwardness of the situation – rattledaroundher brain louder than a train clatteringalong its rails. Inthe racket she heard herself say, softer than she meant to, “I’msorry.”

Jonathan’shead jerked towards her, as though she had just reminded him she wasthere. His eyes followed her gaze to the hip flask he was stillholding between two fingers. He handed it to her wordlessly, and shetook it with a nod of thanks.

Thankgoodness for posh twits who carried silver hip flasks. Jonathandidn’t stint himself on booze. The whisky was top notch.

Minnie wasnot the sort of girl who went red and giggly after only a sip ofalcohol. She had learned the dangers of that early on. But shecouldn’t help a snort.

“Ijust wanted afun evening with a rich idiot, you know that? And you, sir, are justlousyat the rich idiot thing.”

Jonathanpocketed his hip flask and shrugged. “Well, Ionly wanted a fun evening. But it looks like neither of us is gettingwhat we want tonight, doesn’t it.” He tilted his head to the sideand looked at her. “Tell me something. When we started, er…talking…”

“Is thatwhat you call it?” Minnie slipped in slyly. Jonathan looked ratherput out.

“Yes,well, I’m quite aware I might not have been the most scintillatingconversationalist, but then again neither have you, so.”

Sheresented that remark. Or maybe resembled it.

The nerveof that man.

“Whatwere you looking for, really? A good time, or a mark?”

The wordsurprised her. Maybe he really wasn’t as wet as he looked.

Andmaybe pigs were flying in the night sky, aswell,because Winifred Cooper took a look at herself and answered honestly.

“…Both?”

Jonathanlooked at her, his expression inscrutable. Thenhe shrugged with a smile that had more than a touch of silliness.

“Youreally got short-changed on both, didn’t you? Your evening was anightmareand I’m flat broke.”

“What!?”Minnie’s eyes went round.

“Or nearenough, anyway. As it turns out, it’s a bad idea to trustuntrustworthy people.”

“Oh.”

Justhow gullible washe, really?

Thesound of anoncoming motor and wheels creaking on the gravel of the drivewayinterrupted her trainof thoughtand she looked up to see a taxistopping near the house. Jonathan stood up with a wince and held outhis hand.

“Lookslike your carriage hasarrived,Milady. Come on, up you get.”

Minnietook theprofferedhand, holdingher coat tightlyshut.Whenhe let go she almost had to quash a pang of regret. His hand had beenwarm.

Beforeshe closed the door of the taxi,something – temporary insanity,no doubt – made her call him back.

“Jonathan?”

Jonathanwas halfway up the steps to the house. He turned back to her with aslightlystartled expression.

“Look…Thisevening really has been, um…”

“Anunequivocal disaster?”

“Somethinglike that. Itwas fun, though, before… Well, before.” Not that Minnie wanted torepeat the experience. Maybe she should start chasing the broodyloners from now on. Quirky airheads were deceptively dangerous.“Aboutyour nephew… Could you give me a call when you get him back? Justso I know he’s safe.”

Immediatelyafter she mentally kicked herself. Nevergetting involved in any way wasn’t just a convenientdefencemechanism, it was a necessary one. Congratulations,you sap, now he thinks you care.

Shedefinitely didn’t. Not a jot. What was it to her, really. Manyother kids had it much worse every day.

Jonathanstared at her, looking taken aback. Then he smiled.

“I’lldo that, then. Thank you, Minnie.”

Thatwas when she realised that she would havetonever see him again. Batting her eyelashes to part fools andtheir money and fooling around for a good time was one thing; takingadvantage of a moment of vulnerability was too low, even for her.Minnie couldn’t in good conscience say that she wasa woman ofprinciple, but she did have standards. And she didn’t do personal.That way lay danger.

Shecouldn’t help turning back in her seat just before the taxileft the driveway for the road. The steps were deserted; Jonathan hadgone back inside the house.

Onecall, she told herself firmly. That’s it. Then it’sbusiness as usual.

No harmever came from making one single phone call, after all.

.⅋.

Notes:

I’mnot saying I had “Minnie the Moocher” in my head the whole time Iwas writing this, but… I kinda did :D ThisMinnie doesn’t have a “heart as big as a whale”, though. Maybea dogfish shark :3 Still,Iliked creating her. She’s a gold digger and owns up to it, but doeshave standards.

Hope you liked!

#fanfiction #the mummy #the mummy returns #the mummy films #answer #Jonathan Carnahan #my stuff #Anonymous

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gasoline-and-matches-story · 5 years ago

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Gasoline and Matches--Chapter One

Author’s notes: Greetings, lovelies--Spirit here bringing some original content for once. I’ve been working on this story for a long time, started it in high school with my friend @tiltingplanet. I hope you all enjoy the first chapter, any feedback would be lovely.

Chapter One

“I swear to fucking god--I am not skinny dipping in a random cave pool with you assholes.”

Yomi winced at the overly loud voice of her fellow classmate, pressing her back to a cave wall while everyone bickered. The tucked away corner of stone was her only solace--Hard, cold despite the sticky heat that came with a summer day. Of all the things she could have done with her Saturday, this was by far the most reckless. Idiotic. Completely out of character for the white and black-haired girl. Not one for parties or celebrations of any kind, yet here she was on private property in the middle of that god damn night. Trespassing in an abandoned cave system with seven other rowdy teenagers, trying her best to sit and not be noticed while a small bonfire flickered orange hues onto the cave walls in tantalizing patterns. As if the evening wasn’t hot enough.

To be fair, she didn’t consider herself close to any one of these people, minus Bethany--the girl who dragged Yomi to the party in the first place. A beautiful, bubbly female with dark skin and a personality that stretched on for miles. Saying no to such perseverance was impossible for Yomi, who wasn't the most assertive to begin with. One thing lead to another, someone mentioning the caves and a bonfire before piling eight troublemakers into a minivan. Yomi was, literally and figuratively, dragged into the situation. To say she went kicking and screaming was heavily exaggerated, but boy it sure felt like it. Beth was way too aggressive for her own good, and Yomi considered herself a push-over despite all the rules she set to make sure these kinds of situations didn’t happen.

Should have stayed home. Shouldn’t have come out here, but...

There was hesitation, a reluctance that clung to the walls of her skull and refused to let go no matter how much reason was thrown at it. Was it really so wrong to want to try and be a teenager for once? To be out with people her own age, kissing the final year of high school goodbye with something silly and reckless. At least, in this case, she could have done better. They could have chosen a safer, cleaner, less illegal place to kick up her feet. But alas, idiotic minds seemed to think alike in these cases--There were very few voices of reason, and the loudest ones seemed to be those aching to be as reckless as possible.

“Come on, Em,” Jack’s slightly slurred words drew Yomi out of her thoughts, the drunken creature sitting on a rickety arm chair and sipping cheap beer--issue number one? Check. Underage drinking was by far her least favorite part of the evening, “Where’s your sense of adventure? Some hot springs, a little consensual nudity...what could be more fun?”

Jack was a twin, the other member of the set being his sister Ann. Yomi peered between the two as surreptitiously as possible, analyzing the similar shades of blonde hair and green eyes. They were both equally aggravating when it came to starting grievances in school, bouncing off each other like a very bad game of pong. Attractive, but in a similar way to things like poisonous frogs. Bright, shiny, masking jagged edges and toxic skin underneath all the pretty smiles and charismatic exteriors. Yomi knew well enough not to get close, but they were friends with Beth as well.

Jack was addressing Emma, one of the other girls Yomi knew was as reluctant to be there as she was. Voice of reason number one--Closer to the fire, sitting cross-legged on a thin blanket as she tried to ignore the men imploring her to go. She was the definition of tall and curvaceous, the flickering fire light casting shadows over her form from head to toe. Yomi almost rolled her eyes at the men frothing at the mouth--judging by Emma’s figure, their flimsy excuses were pretty obviously hiding their real reason for wanting her to come.

Emma was not oblivious.

“Eat shit and drown,” She held up her middle finger at Jack, shoving his face away when he tried to make pleading eyes, “I have to drive you dumb fucks home later. I’m not letting anyone into my car while wet, and if any of you try its an automatic pass to walking home.”

The caves weren’t an extreme distance from the small town they all lived in, but it was far enough that most of the fire-side listeners actively winced.

Jack practically whined, those green eyes wide and pleading as he implored, “This is a once in a lifetime opportunity, Em…! Why would you wanna pass up on the healing experience?”

“You and I have very differing opinions on what is considered healing,” Emma retorted, sipping a bottle of soda and turning in a different direction, “I’m not here to dip into some glorified, stanky cave water. But by all means don’t let me stop you, Jackie. Just be prepared for the consequences of walking home on the interstate and explaining to the police chief why you’re out so late and dripping wet to boot.”

Several groans rang out, Jack flopping back in that chair and pouting like a sulking child. Drinking, as expected, turned the teen into the equivalent of a drunken toddler. Yomi still found herself sighed internally with relief, letting that curtain of hair fall forward to shield her face a bit. There were currently more girls than boys, so their dumb idea was overruled for the most part. But...she doubted that would be the case for long, not with a certain someone growing more and more intrigued with each passing second and gulps of alcohol. Bethany was the only one way too on board for her own good, eyes sparkling at the notion of even seeing a hot spring and spending time with the boys in general. She was such a smart girl, exceeding incredibly well in class and reaching top marks despite all the chaos she included herself in.

She just craved excitement far too much, compared to the girl she dragged along with her.

It seemed way too dangerous in Yomi’s opinion, especially considering these caves were abandoned for a reason. Mind you, they weren’t too far in. There was a large hole in the ceiling showing the night sky, venting the smoke so they wouldn’t spend the evening coughing and hacking. But the cave system further down had to be treacherous, carved out long ago by either flooding or miners, she wasn’t sure on the details to be completely honest. Each member of the town seemed to have their own take on just how the cave system got there. And with someone in the group walking with crutches, there was no way their desired spelunking adventure should come to pass, right?

Yomi looked at the girl in question, peering through the safety of her black and white hair to examine Mira’s face.

Sitting opposite of her by the fire was the girl in question, seeming lost in thought while the others argued and laughed. She was pretty in an unconventional sort of way, with strong features and red hair cropped short at her shoulders. Out of everyone in the group, Mira being here was the only thing more surprising than Yomi herself--exploring in an abandoned cave system on forearm crutches was a terrible idea. After a car accident in freshman year, Mira had been through a slew of surgeries to fix extensive damage to her legs. It wasn’t perfect, but she could walk with the aid of a cane on occasion, more than that on others.. Out of everyone here, she was another one not drinking, sitting in a lawn chair with her scarred legs stretched out near the fire. Just close enough to warm her skin, the flickering flames casting dancing patterns over the roadmap of surgery marks, of cuts long healed and what had to be extensive pain.

Strong.

Yomi admired her heavily, Mira had far more guts and determination than she ever could. It took strength to come back from what she endured, and even more so to keep going with an attitude of non-caring. Head held high, chin up, feet moving.

She seemed a tad bit annoyed with the boys as well, pushing her cropped red hair behind her ear and narrowing those emerald green eyes on Jack’s pouting face. He was still bitching, the alcohol making his words a bit sloppy.

“Didn’t take this lot to be a buncha pussies,” He complained, crushing the now-empty beer can against his thigh and tossing it to the side, “Came all this way and y’all won’t even follow through…!”

“Careful, Jack, your hick is showing.” Mira retorted, sipping innocently from a can of soda when he whipped his gaze over to her. She remained unperturbed, as always.

“Saying the word y’all isn’t hick,” There was a frown on his lips, mingled with intense disappointment as those rusty gears that made up his alcohol-soaked brain started to grind in thought, “That’s cowboy shit, right?”

His sister Ann, who was spread over a sheet on the dusty floor, let out a heavy groan at his words and pressed her hands to her face in absolute exasperation. It was very clear who was in ownership of the shared twin brain cell at that moment.

“Jack you are the most humiliating fucking person I have ever met,” She sighed, tone sounding so tired while everyone else cracked up laughing at Jack’s expense, “Cowboys are a southern thing you absolute twat.”

Yomi purposely looked away while the others started cackling, sipping from a can of soda and trying to focus on the sugary contents as a means of avoiding laughter herself. Jack was never the brightest bulb in the pack, and cheap beer made it all worse. Underage drinking was never a good idea, and the quiet girl hated it with a passion, so this was just proving every point she had created for herself. Bad behavior? Check. Enhancing foolish ideas to the point that they seemed like good ones? Check. Turning an already idiotic eighteen year old into a god damn man child? Two checks and a very exasperated Yomi there to write them in.

Jack puffed up like an angry cat, glaring daggers at his sister as he stammered, “W...well I knew that…! I was just, y’know…”

“Being a dumbass?” Emma provided helpfully, sitting back and leaning all her weight on her arms, “Baby steps, Jackie. You’ll reach the basic level of human intelligence someday.”

Yomi felt like that was heavily unlikely, but she kept her mouth shut, instead fiddling with the trim on her shorts while the group erupted again. There was certainly a lot of drinking going on with Jack, Ann, Beth, and Jake. Ann handled it a lot better than the boys did, but Beth was turning into a giggly sorority girl, which was definitely not a good thing. They were the loudest of the group when it came to laughing and joking, whereas Clark, Emma, and Mira were as calm as Yomi was. At least there were some sane people in the group.

How much longer was it going to be before she could go home? Beth had lost all interest in her now that she was bouncing off the others, the girl’s choice to drink not sitting well with Yomi. Alcohol as a whole always put the quiet group member on edge, an extra reason why she wanted to be free of these idiots.

They’re not idiots, She reminded herself, shoulders slumping a bit at her own rude line of thinking, They’re being normal teenagers. You’re the odd one here.

Reprimanding herself was the only way to correct her own negativity toward others, so she tried to make it a habit. Yomi also tried to force herself to relax--this was supposed to be fun, right? She was out with kids her age, doing “crimes” and nibbling on fireside food late at night. Trying to look on the bright side of it, to find good in the bad. Given the choice, however, she wished there was less underage drinking involved.

“Now now, kids,” Clark’s baritone voice pulled her out of her musings, looking up to see the dark-skinned male stand up and brush off the dust, “How about we just walk around for a bit? Some basic spelunking, no swimming involved.”

The two other boys perked up at that, practically bouncing in the orange hue of the fire as they stood as well.

“I like that word,” Jake, the other group trouble maker and notoriously horny on main, purred as he slung an arm around Emma and dragged her up unwillingly--someone was going to lose a finger, Jake the best candidate, “Come on now, kitten, let’s go spelunking. Sounds sexy, amiright?”

Em made a visible face of disgust, firmly peeling his arm off of her and gripping to the point of pain. Made obvious by Jake’s yelp of alarm.

“Call me kitten again, and you’ll be experiencing the joy of my size seven shoes up your ass.” She said in a sugary sweet tone, one that barely veiled the threat she was putting across.

He whined in response, yanking his arm back and rubbing his aching wrist. Everyone else seemed to be standing as well, easily convinced by Clark’s reasonable tone, much to Yomi’s absolute dismay. So much for not exploring the caves. This was shaping to be an incredibly nerve-wracking evening, the dark tunnels plummeting into the Earth seeming intimidating and empty when she turned to gaze into them. It made the timid girl incredibly nervous, coming to her feet as well and gripping the edges of her blouse with firm fingers. They were already in a place they shouldn’t be, so why add the extra danger to the mix?

Even Mira, the one who seemed like she shouldn’t be cave diving at all, was now on board. Not wanting to be left out from anything. Yomi contemplated giving her an imploring look, but thought against it.

“Jake, you would find the word ‘hamper’ sexy. Get over yourself.” With that, the redhead struggled to her feet, limping across the cave with both hands firmly grasping the crutches on her arms. She seemed completely determined, those green eyes sharp and gait suggesting she wouldn’t be swayed in the slightest.

“Mira, hold on! Let me walk with you.” Clark scrambled up, boy scout instincts kicking in to make sure Mira didn’t fall to her doom somewhere. Yomi liked that about Clark-- that he genuinely cared about people. Only problem was that he was a negotiator, trying to find a middle ground for what everyone wanted.

Too bad what Yomi wanted was to go home and be free of this situation. But Clark didn’t know that, especially not with her too nervous to speak up.

Jake made a face at Mira's back, sounding incredibly immature as he mocked, “Myeh myeh myeh, I'm Mira and have to be sarcastic all the time.”

He blew a raspberry, which was further evidence that not a single male in the group could handle drinking without morphing into a child. Yomi almost rolled her eyes.

“Grow up, Jake.” Several of the girls said dryly in reply, sounding like a choir of reason in the face of such nonsense. All but Bethany, who was seeming to have a great time now that the spelunking operation was back on board.

This was starting to become tiresome--Yomi would have rather not sit there and listen to the banter that cropped up when Jake got into one of those moods again. Not to mention the fact that staying with Beth would only result in her being sucked into all the horniness they were carrying around. And shockingly enough...someone seemed to notice her exhausted expression before she managed to hide it. Emma had been staring across the cave at Yomi, those stern eyes searching and missing nothing, especially not with her knowing full well that Beth had played a big part in dragging the reluctant new member of the group along.

What Yomi didn’t expect was for her to actually act on it.

“Why don’t you guys go exploring without us?” The woman suggested helpfully to one half of the group, eyeing Mira as she clung to Clark a bit for support and sounding incredibly disapproving of the situation, “I’ll keep an eye on the dumbasses while they look for water, and to prevent any potential cave ins caused by Jake and Jack’s stupidity--”

Cave-ins?

“Hey!” Both boys protested, looking thoroughly chastised--like somehow the idea of them causing trouble was absolutely ludicrous.

“Regardless,” Emma interjected loudly, rolling her eyes at their ranging expressions of insult and annoyance, “I’d rather Yomi and Clarke make sure Mira doesn’t fall in somewhere, you’re the only ones other than me who are sober.”

Clark and Mira seemed surprised to even hear Yomi’s name, turning to look at her with mirrored expressions of shock as if her presence had been lost on them both. It occurred to her that pair had probably not talked to her in school much before, outside asking for help with a question or for borrowing a pencil. Hell, Yomi hadn’t said a word the whole trip minus occasionally mumbling to Beth, replying to her constant questions and cheerful banter as much as she could handle. So those expressions they wore should not be hurtful.

Right?

“Oh, cool, the more the merrier.” Clark said, awkwardly dithering behind Mira as she sought to walk further into the cave. Almost impatiently. The redhead looked eager for adventure, green eyes sparkling in the firelight as she nudged the bigger male’s arm with her forearm crutches.

Am I doing this right? Yomi wondered anxiously, keeping her eyes on Mira like observing the girl would somehow teach her the proper ways to act, Should I be excited instead of worried? Shouldn’t I want to do something risky?

While she fretted, everyone continued on obliviously. Beth had zero complaints with Em’s demands, seeming more than happy to walk around with the other guys in her drunken state. She smiled cheerfully, giving a small finger wave as Emma locked arms with her, “M’kay, we’ll meet back up here, yeah?”

She didn’t wait for Yomi’s response, turning and practically dragging Emma down a branching path. Thank god the more reasonable woman was going with them, to make sure no one did anything stupid. All of it was all too much to bear for someone like Yomi, the drunken state of her fellow classmates a bit too intimidating. She was grateful for that at the very least, they needed one reasonable person to make sure the skinny dipping didn’t happen, and to keep Beth safe and sound from such exasperating indivduals.

Regardless, she turned when Mira pushed forward eagerly, trailing carefully behind while Clarke shadowed the redhead’s steps. The heat of the bonfire slowly started to fade as they pushed through the jagged edges of the tunnel entrance, wary not to trip on a few huge rocks and pieces of the cave wall. All the while Yomi was trying to shake her sense of worry, scrambling to figure out just what to say to her two classmates. Why was this so hard? Once upon a time she had friends, close to so many people in elementary school until...well. Things had changed, so much had happened that it sometimes felt like her head was still spinning from the stress of all of it. There was solace in silence, one she had come to rely on far too much.

Luckily...it would not need to be thought about long, because someone took the reigns out of her hesitant hands and spoke. The same someone she had started looking to for any indication on how to be a normal human being.

“Didn't want to listen to them either?” Mira asked casually as the light began to die away, sloping downwards into darkness and snapping Yomi out of her thoughts, “I don't blame you. The best people have brains in their heads...I think Jake has vodka instead.”

Clark snorted, laughing into his hand. At least he was finding amusement in this. She couldn’t help herself either--Yomi half smiled in agreement, surprised to find comfort in their company now that the more rowdy group members were separated and relieved that the other girl seemed at ease with drawing her into the conversation. Mira had the habit in school of saying the crass version of what everyone was thinking, speaking her mind at all times, but it was somehow...welcome, and accurate. Jake, best known for puking on his SAT thanks to a hangover, absolutely had a skull full of cheap vodka.

“I think you may be right,” Yomi replied, gaze turned away and pulling out her phone to light the path once it occurred to her how low the visibility was getting, “Do you guys think this is a good idea…? Maybe splitting up to go cave diving on abandoned property isn’t...the smartest.”

Mira let out a light laugh at that, leaning heavily on her cane as she replied, “This group isn’t known for their brains. Though I will say,” She gave Yomi a side-long glance, raising one delicate eyebrow at her, “Pretty surprised to see you at this little get-together. You never seemed to be the partying type.”

That made the girl wince, turning away from Mira’s searching eyes. She certainly had the knack for saying exactly what would make one squirm, which was fine when it wasn’t directed at the most nervous one of the group. There was a prolonged silence as Yomi thought over the comment in general, trying to gather the best thing she could say in response. This was the topic of the year, muttered in hallways with curious and skeptical eyes watching her. Why doesn’t Yomi “participate” in anything? Does she think herself to be better than everyone because of her family? To come out to a party such as this after three whole years of keeping to herself, trying desperately to stay under the radar--it was understandable that Mira would be curious.

Others were just too cowardly to ask.

“I...well...I wanted to try.” Yomi murmured in reply, feeling both sets of eyes on her as she stepped down over a lip in the path. She couldn’t remember ever speaking about this to anyone, keeping all the issues locked up tight without burdening another person. But in the dark of the caves, out of her element...something could change, right?

“Just for a day. To try and be... normal.”

Whether or not that made sense was the question, but Yomi didn’t think there would be anything to worry about on that front. They definitely understood what was being put across, there was no doubting that. She realized easily as she turned to watch Clark help Mira down the incline, meeting his now-sympathetic gaze and feeling a bit surprised by the serious expression he wore. It didn’t change much to send him into concerned, big brother mode it would seem. Those dark eyes were gentle in the dim lighting, reflecting the glow of her cell phone with a steady gaze meeting her own

“Is it hard,” He asked hesitantly, like the thought hadn’t entered his head before, “For you to be normal? Or rather...to feel normal.”

Mira pursed her lips, emerald-green eyes also glinting in the light from Yomi’s phone as she waited for the reply.

Yomi let out a light hum in response, meeting Mira’s steady gaze and trying to decipher the emotion there. Something akin to understanding, thoughtful in nature. Since she asked the original question, it felt only right to give such answers to her.

“Might sound silly, but...it does,” Yomi admitted, feeling strangely at ease while talking to someone like the brash redhead. There was something about her, a silent camaraderie Yomi didn’t understand--maybe due to how much the troubled girl respected and admired her? Strong, steadfast and determined in everything she did. Mira was certainly not the type to judge, nor had she partaken in all the criticizing that went around the school. She simply felt...curious, “It felt easier to just stay quiet and get through school as fast as I could. I...wanted to try and have fun for once.”

Mira snorted, saying exactly what Yomi herself had thought previously in the evening, “Hard to call that shit fun. We could have stayed at Clark’s place, watching anime reruns and covering ourselves in crumbs from the safety of his couch.”

Yomi blinked in response. She had never been to Clark’s house before--the very notion of being able to was somehow strange, a nice change of pace. Her brain created its own images of someplace nice and cozy, domestic in comparison to the big, empty house she lived in on a daily basis. It sounded pleasant.

Mira’s words made their classmate smile, a flash of those pearly whites as he laughed, “You’re just saying that because you like my dog.”

“And what moron wouldn’t?”

Yomi hid her smile at their conversation, trying to instead focus on navigating the narrow path in the dark. It was eerily quiet in the caves besides the echoing words from the other two. No dripping water, no sounds of animals or anything at all. Didn’t caves have bats? Mice? Strange eldritch creatures hungering for their flesh? Her imagination was getting out of control, which needed to be halted before it got worse. The path was starting to widen a bit, the walls looking less craggy and jagged to...smooth? Almost curved at the top like an archway, air drifting in from their backs and overcoming the stagnant smell with the one of crackling firewood. This felt...odd--why was the floor so even, the walls spaced perfectly like the cave had been carved out long ago?

Maybe these were mining caves after all?

Yomi frowned a bit, feeling along the wall and noticing what looked to be something carved into the stone and rock. It was strangely out of place on the crumbling, misshapen tunnel--everything around it had long since been messed up by the earth shifting and changing, but it was only this area that seemed to remain untouched, smooth, undisturbed by nature or anything like that. Yomi probed her fingers further, turning the light on her phone to brighten up what she was feeling for further examination. But that only increaded the confusion, amping up the surprise when she saw first hand what her hands were touching.

Not cracks, not carvings. These markings were different than that, and far more precise.

It looked almost...runic, made up of intricately curved lines and shapes. They reminded her of something she had seen in a video game, or a fantasy movie with witches and wizards. It didn’t look chiseled either--almost like it was burned into the stone with lava or a razor thin torch. That...couldn’t be right though, could it? Was cave dwelling cultists another story told in town when people spoke of the caves? The memory wasn’t exactly there, which was somehow even more concerning. Someone definitely had to take the time to make such strange markings, it was incredibly intricate and beautiful in design. Who could have such dedication, to come into a dark cave and make something no one would ever see?

Yet here they were, seeing them.

This is so unbelievably bizarre.

“What’s wrong?” Clark asked, pulling out his phone as well to shine light on their feet. He took a few steps closer, leaning over Yomi’s shoulder to stare at the marking and letting out a low murmur of, “Wow, that’s strange. Never seen anything like it.”

An understatement to be sure. It was almost ridiculous, like something she would have seen in a movie or storybook.

Mira came up on the other side as well, leaning her weight against the white and black-haired girl without a care in the world. Yomi paused in surprise, not minding the sudden contact, but...it felt weird having people be so close.

“Maybe some dumb devil-worshipping teenagers were down here,” She said dismissively, eyeing the rest of the tunnel with a troubled expression despite her laid-back tone, “Did any of you see a sheep’s carcass on our way down? Candles? Shrines devoted to the dark Lord Satan?”

Clark clicked his tongue disapprovingly, “See now, that’s not funny.”

“I thought it was hilarious,” Mira smirked, shoving his shoulder with one of her crutches, “Lighten up, Superman. Most you have to be scared of down here is Jake’s wandering hands.”

Yomi sighed at their joking, pressing her fingertips to the marks and tracing out one of the more prominent lines. Satan worshipers was one thing, but in a small town like theirs people like that would have been incredibly obvious. Even then, what the hell did they use to get the marks so precise and small? It certainly didn’t look carved, at least not to her eyes-- more like it was burned into the stone’s surface like a brand. But if there was any scorching, it was not found by her carefully searching eyes in the dark. Something about it felt ominous and strange--the hairs on the back of Yomi’s neck stood up, signalling to her that they should probably just turn back.

Skinny dipping was one thing, finding mysterious symbols in a dark tunnel was definitely outside her final walls of comfort. She had enough spooks for one day, that was for certain.

But when she turned to tell them that, Clark was pressing onward, sliding one hand along the wall and holding up his phone with the other. Mira was following slowly behind, managing fairly well on her forearm crutches and staring at what had now garnered the boy’s attention.

Yomi blinked, eyes widening when she saw more and more symbols lining the walls, different in their patterns and designs and now taking up almost every available space. What the hell was all of this? She quickened her step, keeping half of her focus on Mira to make sure the girl wouldn’t stumble, the other half on the newfound mystery. Marking after marking, curving up toward the ceiling and turning into swirling images as they danced over the curves and stone. Depicting otherworldly creatures, dragons and giant birds in flight as they clashed in the sky.

They were beautiful, but wasted in a cave such as this.

“Where did these come from…?” Yomi murmured, tracing the patterns with each step and unable to understand any of it, “You would think someone else would have found these markings, but...No one mentioned them, did they?”

She spent a lot of her time observing and listening. Even when news of these caves spread, no one spoke of something such as this.

Clark frowned, his brow furrowing as he lost himself in thought, “Now that you mention it...I was told there was one tunnel system, not two paths. There was rubble around the one we took, the edges more jagged. Maybe this way was opened by a cave in?”

Yomi blanched, taking a very measured step backwards in the direction they entered in. If there had been a collapse before, it could very well happen again. Now that she thought about it, the entry way did have a bit of debris, and Emma had spoken of something like that being possible before herding the drunken members of the group away.

Not safe. We need to go.

“I don’t like the sound of that,” Mira huffed, genuine concern on her face now as she mimicked Yomi’s motion and stepped backwards, “If cave-ins are a thing, we need to bounce. Too much danger for my liking.”

That was a hard agreement on Yomi’s part. She already felt uneasy about coming to an abandoned cave in the middle of the woods, especially when it was technically illegal. Mind you, kids had done it before and generally only got a slap on the wrists. But Yomi didn’t particularly want to be arrested, especially considering who she was. If she got arrested, if her step father and mother found out what she was doing…

Bad, very bad.

"Yeah, let's head back. We can go to my house," Clark gave Yomi a welcoming smile, putting a hand around Mira’s arm to hold her steady. "You can come too, if you want--my dog Ruby is a sweetheart, loves everyone. We call her Boobie.”

His words make Yomi pause, a hesitant delight blooming in her chest at how eager he was to try and be kind to her. Clark was known for being the friendly sort, but unlike Bethany he was nowhere near as pushy or forceful about it. A gentle giant, one who respected people’s personal space. Even people in their class who weren’t his friends know that he'd be there if they needed him, and having him extend that same courtesy to her despite the reputation floating around school…

I’m not used to this.

She opened her mouth to reply, trying to formulate some sort of coherent response or maybe ask if it was really alright with them, but something made her focus start to drift.

...What is that sound?

Yomi blinked, ears suddenly hyper-focusing on the cave around them in a brief second of clarity from the racing thoughts. It had been shockingly quiet in this area before, far from the crackling fire and rowdy classmates. No dripping water, no bats, nothing but the echos of their own voices bouncing further into the landscape. But now...something was there, making all three teenagers pause and glance at each other in confusion. It was low, so low that for a second Yomi thought she was imagining it, but it brought a sensation that made the hair on the back of her neck stand up, vibrating the bottoms of her feet every so slightly. A humming, like a deep bass was vibrating through the cave and growing in quiet intensity. It was the sort of thing one could feel in their lungs, loud and quiet at the same time.

Mira shot a confused look at Yomi’s face, placing a hand on the wall while her forearm crutch dangled a bit. For whatever reason, it made the other girl mimic her action--the humming sensation felt like it was radiating from the walls, below their feet and rising upwards. Clark was the only one who didn’t seem compelled to touch the cool stone, shining his light down the tunnel with a worried expression on his face. What the hell was that sound? What is going on? So ominous, so...mysterious. Surely not from her fellow classmates, they had nothing that could cause something like this, not the pulsing waves of bass that seemed to vibrate from below.

Break...shatter to pieces.

Was...that a voice speaking? The white and black-haired girl gasped, turning to look at Mira to see if she heard it too--the answer was a clear yes. Her green eyes met half-way with Yomi’s hazel gaze, filled with quiet alarm and fascination mingled in one. Clark was the only one who didn’t seem to hear it, still looking around with a perplexed gaze at the humming.

Break. Shatter.

Let us in.

I’m tired of waiting--I SAID BREAK.

A crackling sound suddenly range out, making Yomi flinch at the sudden shattering of silence and snapping her gaze to the ground. Bright, it’s bright--what is going on? A burst of light made them all gasp, the marks on the wall lighting up in a flash of purple energy that slithered through every curve, every line and circle all the way up into the ceiling with a searing howl that razed against her ears. It all happened so fast, so suddenly there was no room to react. As it traveled along her palm, Yomi yelped at a flash of heat, falling back and jerking her hand to her chest in unison with Mira. It stung terribly, like pressing against a hot brand under her skin was sizzling from the wound of it.

What the fuck was that?

Both girls stared in shock, Clark putting himself behind them to make sure neither fell onto the floor. Yomi felt her back hit his chest when she reared back, his heartbeat fast and just as alarmed as hers was as he stared in mute shock at the glowing runes all over the walls.

Quick as it came, the light left, traveling up to the images on the ceiling and disappearing in a flash of sizzling violet. Every hair on Yomi’s arms was standing on end, heart pounding in her chest and hand stinging terribly. What was that? What the fuck just happened? The air felt charged, like static electricity and smelled of something...strange, like nothing she had ever encountered before. There was no mistaking that it had happened, all three classmates stood huddled in a state of shock as the humming subsided ever so slightly. Mira breathing heavily, Clark’s hands firm on their shoulders as he held them as steady as he could with shaking fingers.

Something had just happened, something none of them understood.

“Holy shit,” Mira whispered, leaning against Yomi and wincing as she lifted her injured hand. Yomi stared in shock at her palm, seeing the same markings from the wall seared into her flesh--upon looking at her own, the girl was met with the same image. The skin around the wound tingled, charged with an inexplicable energy that made her whole hand uncomfortable, “What the fuck was that? You all saw that, right? I didn’t hallucinate some weird fucking energy burning my hand.”

Yomi shook her head, taking in a shaking breath as she stared at the stinging mass of markings now on her flesh, “N...no...we all saw it…” She turned her gaze to stare down the tunnel, hearing that same humming still radiating ever so slightly further along, “I’ve never seen anything like that...never.”

It had been...frightening, but incredible at the same time. Exhilarating, like an adventure she had never been allowed to have.

And shockingly enough, Mira was feeling the same way. When Yomi returned her gaze to the red-headed girl, she saw her own excitement echoed there, growing in intensity as she too seemed to registered that they had been apart of something strange, something beyond their realm of understanding. Injured or not, it was outside the normativity of their everyday lives, and that was...was…

I want to understand this. I want to know more.

Clark was the only one who was visibly shaken from the incident, not sharing in their excitement as he stammered, “W...we should probably go...That shit isn’t normal, and you both are burnt…!” He took a step back, watching to make sure Mira had properly adjusted her crutches before pulling out his phone, “I’m gonna call Em and make sure she and the others are alright--let’s get going and tend to your wounds.”

Mira let out a light huff, wincing when she tried to grip the crutch with her injured palm and hanging back as Clark took a few steps in the direction they came from, “Hang on now--Aren’t you even a little curious? The walls were glowing, they burned like fire…!”

The eager redhead slid past Yomi, walking a bit awkwardly now that she was trying not to grip the one half of her crutches. Her gaze was locked on the markings, barely illuminated by her companion’s phone as she moved a bit further down the tunnel. Meanwhile, the more timid member of their group was torn, watching her actions and unconsciously trailing behind. Her brain was screaming at her to go back to safety, to leave before things got even worse--the mark burned into flesh would scar, a permanent reminder of this day, and yet she didn’t care. Mira was excited about what was going on...maybe it meant she could feel that way too? Maybe it was normal to want to understand the unknown.

But Clark wasn’t convinced, the only voice of reason as he turned to look at them a few feet away, “Not a chance--not where our safety is involved…!”

Maybe he’s right. Yomi frowned, still holding her injured hand cupped with the other one. Maybe another day, maybe after talking to the others about what happened? Leaving felt disappointing, but...some things were more important than discovery, right? The need to learn more, the curiosity swirling in her gut was so strong she almost spoke up on Mira’s behalf, pleading with Clark to let them look a little bit further. She was never the type to ask for things, it always felt so selfish. Especially now, with danger thrown into the mix.

How could Yomi possible hope to demand anything if it meant endangering the lives of both the people with her? It was not fair.

She instead returned her gaze to Mira, reading the same unhappiness there that she felt and returning it in kind. Both shared a silent moment of understanding, hazel staring into green, Yomi’s hesitant desires plain and clear on her face. The redhead looked ready to speak, spurned on even more by her classmate’s fellow eagerness.

But it was short lived, Clark’s words punctuated like fate itself was scolding them for their hesitation.

A loud rumble started shaking the cave, all three letting out varying cries of alarm and stumbling on their feet. Loud, everything was so loud--stone rattling, cracking, grinding with the force of the tremors rocking the small space.Yomi heard screams echo from the other side of the cave, bouncing all the way down to their tunnel and signalling that the others were feeling the tremor too--a cave in? Earthquake? There was so much was shaking, like the stone under their feet was shifting back and forth and threatening to make the unsteady girl fall to her knees. Clark tumbled back behind them, his phone clattering onto the floor but barely heard through the chaos surrounding the fearful students.

Yomi instinctively whipped around to look at Mira, reaching out to the girl as she screamed and started to fall in the dark. Everything seemed to move in slow motion for a moment--Yomi reaching, Mira falling, room rumbling...she’s still falling, further than she should. Yomi’s finger’s gripped one of the redhead’s arms, a slow sense of dread and alarm growing when she continued to plummet. Beyond the floor, beyond the--the floor is gone. The realization came too late, the shock snapping through her as it registered why the floor was so dark. It had given way, crumbling into nothingness and sending Mira into a free-fall.

A cave in, ground subsidence, Yomi’s head screamed at her, every warning bell going off as she prepared to hold Mira’s weight, She’s going to fall, she’s going to--

But when she tried to steady her weight, she felt it--a cracking underneath her feet. Yomi scrambled, a cry of alarm lodging in her throat as the cave in shattered more of what once appeared as solid stone. It bottomed out with a loud grinding sound, sending the frantic girls into a plummeting down toward the empty abyss. There was no true way to describe it, the feeling of falling with absolutely no purchase for her hands or feet. She’s going to die--we’re going to die. There was nowhere to grab onto, no footing, no nothing. Just empty space that her free fingers clawed for, eyes locked on their descent and hoping to god that Clarke was far enough away not to be pulled into it. Her palm was flaring in pain where it held Mira’s arm, the girl’s cries loud in her ears over the rushing of blood and adrenaline.

But she still heard him as they fell, Clark’s scream of fear and horror as more stone collapsed over where they once stood.

“No…! Yomi! Mira…!”

Neither could response. All Yomi could do was cling to the other girl, heart pounding in her ears and a choked cry of terror lodged in her throat as the air rushed past.

As they plummeted into the nothingness.

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#gasoline and matches #original story #original context #original character #oc #yomi #astyanax #zytavian #mira #magic #dragons #sorcery

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badwolf-in-the-impala · 6 years ago

Text

~Where the Crow Flies~

Chapter 1 - Hometown Girl

Image Credit: Myself. Pictures aren’t mine but editing/collage is.

Pairings: Juice Ortiz x OFC ((face claim - Emily Rudd))

Inspired by: God Love Her by Toby Keith

Rating: NSFW

Warnings: Sexual content, violence, ((to be determinded))

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

“Yeah she's a rebel child And a preacher's daughter She was baptized in dirty water Her mama cried the first time They caught her with me They knew they couldn't stop her

She holds tight to me and the Bible On the back seat of my motorcycle Left her daddy standin' there Preachin' to the choir You see, God love her Oh me and God love her”

Laredo, Texas.

It was a long way from their sleepy little hometown of Charming, CA. It was a rare occurrence that they would travel so far, but when a friend and fellow MC connection of Jax’s contacted him about a Patch Over, they were all for making the trip.

The ride was long and exhausting, taking them a total of three days when it only should have taken them one. No thanks to the two separate bike breakdowns, a wrong turn -- courtesy of Tig -- and a couple of flat tires. Needless to say by the time they arrived, they were road worn, dirty, and in desperate need of stiff drinks and a good night's sleep.

It was around 7:30pm when they finally made their destination, pulling into the nearest Bar and venturing inside for a drink, pleased to discover that the joint also served food. Three days of living off of gas station jerky, beer, and whatever else they could scrounge up to eat on the go had left them famished. So it went without saying that they were started to get more than a little disgruntled when the waitress working the floor seemed to be avoiding them entirely.

The mousy looking blonde ducking into the back almost the second they took their seats. A few minutes passing before the doors swung open and another woman emerged and disappeared for a moment behind the bar. She was average height, petite yet curvaceous and her delicate features made her appear younger than she likely was.

Juice’s jaw nearly hit the floor as she approached their table with a tray of full of shots. She was clad in a pair of ripped dark wash jeans that hugged her in all the right places, cowboy boots, and a black, cropped, tank top patterned with white and neon green skulls; her cleavage peeking out the top just ever so slightly.

Several elegant tattoos adorned her arms and left wrist, while another one on her right hip lie hidden by her jeans, part of it just visible above the waistband. Her dark auburn hair was pulled back in a high ponytail, and her smile radiant. The kind that reaches the eyes and makes them shine more brightly, her own a brilliant shade of blue with just the smallest hints of green; vibrant as she placed the tray on the table in front of them.

“My apologies for the wait, Gentlemen.” She apologized sweetly as she passed out the round of drinks. “These are on the house. Can I offer y’all somethin’ else to drink; maybe some menus?” She inquired with a drawl that was as smooth as the whiskey in the shot glasses before them.

“Menus would be fantastic.” Jax replied with a smile. “And a round’a whatever you got on Tap would be fine.”

“You got it, Darlin’.” She winked.

“Christ’ Juicey, quit yer gawkin’ and remove yer jaw from the table.” Chibs mused with a small smirk as he caught the younger man ogling the young waitress, eyes following her as she sauntered away to grab the requested items, her hips swaying in time with the thud of her boots across the hardwood floor.

It was hypnotizing; clearly.

“What?” Juice’s attention snapped back to reality at the sound of his name, the table erupting in a fit of boisterous laughter at his confused expression, the men settling back down as she returned to set some menus, ice cold mugs, and a large pitcher of beer on the table.

“You boys jus’ holler when you’re ready to order, alright?” She winked with a grin, hands stuffed in the back pockets of her jeans as she turned on the heel of her boot, starting back towards the bar to replace the blonde who had been working until they came in. Pausing when Jax called out after her, the men watching as she arched a perfectly sculpted brow at him, turning back to see what he needed.

“What’s your name, Sweetheart?” He asked with that signature flirtatious smile of his that made most girls swoon and go mad with desire. But she simply smiled, ignoring the suggestive nature of the question being asked, her eyes settling on Juice as she replied casually.

“Missy.”

A few hours had passed, the guys dispersing to mingle around the bar after demolishing the three pizzas they ordered. Juice remaining at the booth in which they had all originally been sitting, fidgeting with the empty beer mug in front of him out of boredom. Normally he might have been up mingling with the rest of the guys, ‘New town, new pussy.’ as Tig would say; but he just wasn’t feeling it tonight. So instead he sat, quietly watching their Waitress, Missy, as she tended up at the bar.

It struck him how easy going she was, how easily she conversed with the locals and other customers as she worked, like she had know them for years. Hell, she even managed to put up with Tig’s wildly inappropriate, drunken, advances and still keep a level head. It was absolutely mind blowing to watch.

“You want another one, Sweetie?” She drawled softly, pulling him from his thoughts. A sweet smile hanging from her perfect, full, red lips as she approached his table, finally able to break away from the bar as things had started to die down for the night. “Um, yeah, thank you!” He returned her smile, passing the empty mug off to her and accepting the already opened bottle she held in her hand.

“Not in the mood to mingle?” She inquired with a curious look, turning her attention to the rest of his group that were scattered throughout the bar playing pool and whatnot, before returning it back to him, watching as he shrugged lightly.

“Not really.” He chuckled nervously. “It was kind of a long trip.”

“Patch Over business?” She chuckled softly at the confused look on his face before gesturing to his Kutte.

“Oh...right.” He rubbed at the back of his neck awkwardly, suddenly feeling like the world biggest idiot as he glanced up at her, reassured by the warm smile she gave him in return.

“Sorry, I should’ve clarified.” She replied, gesturing to the seat opposite him with a questioning glance before taking a seat as he nodded eagerly. “The Road Reapers are really the only crew in these parts, save for a few rival gangs; but Joey and his crew are good people. He’s been talking ‘bout the Patch Over for a while now...so I assumed when I saw your Kutte’s that you guys must be it.”

“Makes sense.” He chuckled before taking a swig of his beer.

“Missy.” She introduced herself personally to him as she extended her hand across the table, earning herself a ridiculously goofy, yet adorable, smile as he accepted the gesture; some of his nervousness fading as he replied. “Juice.” “For real?” She snorted a small laugh, her own smile growing, her hand still grasping his as she waited for a response. “I-- It’s a nickname.” He shrugged, rubbing at the back of his neck again as he withdrew his hand finally, taking another sip of his beer. “I like it.” She smiled warmly. “You have a real name to, though, I’m assuming?”

“Juan.” He nodded with sheepish grin. “Is Missy short for anythin’?”

“Maybe.” She quirked a smile at him as she pushed herself out of her seat, standing to pull a pack of smokes from her pocket. “But that’s for me to know and you to find out.”

Juice watched as she crossed the room, disappearing behind the bar where she grabbed a leather jacket and shrugged it on, waving at the other waitress who had come out of hiding and instructed her to watch the bar for a bit, her eyes meeting his again as she paused beside his table.

“You’re more than welcome to join.” She gestured toward the back entrance, shaking the pack of smokes in her right hand, grinning as he grabbed his drink and climbed out of the booth to follow her outside.

Silence hung between them as she sparked up the cigarette that hung from her lips, offering Juice her lighter as he searched for his own only to come up empty handed, tucking it back into the pocket of her jeans as she leaned against the brick wall behind them; exhaling a trail of smoke into the night air.

“So…” Juice cleared his throat, earning her attention almost instantly as she fixed her blue eyes on him intently, his nerves suddenly returning as he looked away quickly and took a long drag from his own cigarette. Trying to pretend he didn’t notice as he watched her out of the corner of his eye, shift and turn towards him as she waited for him to continue. Juice turning to give her a curious look after a minute or so when she started to chuckle softly.

“Sorry, it’s just-- I’ve never met a shy biker before.” She apologized before taking another drag from her cigarette, tilting her head to the side as she looked up him through dark lashes. “Y’all are usually so outgoing.”

“Yeah…” Juice chuckled a little as he stared back at her. “This is a little new, for me.”

“How so?” Missy asked with a curious look.

“I dunno. I guess I’m just not use to having a woman be so forward...normally it’s the other way around most of the time.” He replied with a shrug, watching the grin that tugged at the corners of Missy’s lips as she nodded at him.

“I can see that.” Her blue eyes gleamed with amusement as she studied him closely, shifting to step closer as the breeze picked up a little. “I’m little forward sometimes, I apologize.”

Juice gave a soft chuckle and shook his head. “No, it’s cool. Little change of pace never killed anyone.” He said. Missy smirked and nodded as she huffed out another puff of smoke. Missy eyed him as he took a drag and glanced out over the town, giving a small smile at all the lights and neon signs that knocked him back to the 90′s a little.

“Have you ever traveled out this far before?” Missy asked, taking another drag as Juice turned to her. He turned down the corners of his mouth as he gave his head a little shake.

“Not really. I mean, I’m from Queens, but never really made it down South.” He said. Missy nodded and glanced down, kicking a random piece of broken glass away as she asked,

“Is it hard being away from your old lady?”

The way Missy glanced up at him, a sweet, yet coy smile perched on her lips, blinking out from under her long lashes, Juice couldn’t hold back a similar sly smirk as he shifted a little closer and said, “Not really...Since I don’t have an old lady, yet.”

Missy couldn’t stop her smirk from spreading as she dropped her cigarette, stamping it out with the toe of her boot.

“Oh? No one who can handle the life?” She teased.

“Nah...not yet at least.” Juice shrugged.

“Guess those Cali girls must be pretty soft then, huh.” Missy chuckled sarcastically as she leaned in a little closer. “But then again, us Texas women are different breed.”

She watched as his brown eyes darted from her own gaze down to her lips and back, starting to lean in himself when the back door to bar flew open with a loud BANG as it slammed against the brick wall. A small chuckle left Missy’s lips as Juice startled backwards a little bit at the noise, turning to watch as the rest of his group filtered out back.

“There you are, we’ve been lookin’ all over for ya man.” Jax spoke up with a grin as he swaggered over towards the pair, hands shoved in his pockets.

“That’s my fault.” Missy grinned, giving a small shrug as she shoved her own hands into the pockets of her jacket.

“No worries, Sweetheart.” Jax replied. “We should probably get goin’ though since we still need to find a place to crash. There any good cheap motels nearby?”

Missy snorted at the question, raising an eyebrow at the blonde who in turn, gave her a questioning look. “Cheap and Motel are two words that do not belong in the same sentence.” She replied.

“You got a better idea?” Jax chuckled lightly, watching as Missy glanced up to the second story of the small brick building that housed the bar they stood outside of.

“Got a couple vacant rooms upstairs.” She replied casually, watching as Jax glanced around to the rest of his group for their approval. Earning a collection of nods and shrugs before turning his attention back to Missy.

“That’d be awesome...if it isn’t any trouble?” He replied.

“None at all.” Missy smiled kindly as she made for the door.

“How much?” Jax asked as they stepped back inside, surprised when Missy waved the comment off as she stepped behind the bar to fish out a set of keys.

“No charge.” She shook her head in reply. “The Son’s are always welcome here.” The comment earned her a plethora of confused looks from the group of men that stood before her, watching as she rolled her eyes and turned, reaching up on her tiptoes to grab an old picture that hung above the register.

“My real Dad, he fought in Nam with some of the Original 9. Was part of the Charter up in Tacoma for a lot of years until he went Nomad. Bounced around quite a bit after that till my Mom managed to get him to settle back here in Texas.” She gestured around the room they stood in as she laid the picture on the bar.

“He built this place from the ground up...”

“No fuckin’ way?” Jax stated as he picked up the picture off the bar to study it, recognizing it immediately as one he’d seen in some of JT’s old things.

“He had one golden rule back then, that the Son’s were always welcome in this establishment, no matter what. I made sure that stayed in place after he passed and I was old enough to take over...my Mom wanted nothing to do with it after she left him and remarried my Preacher step-daddy.”

“You’re a Preacher’s daughter?” Tig’s voice inquired, his interest suddenly peaked as he appeared at the front on the bar. Missy simply rolled her eyes and ignored his pervy antics as she brushed the comment aside.

“And after she died a couple years back, the Bar fell to me, as instructed, per my Father's will.” She gave a small sigh as she took the photo of her old man back from Jax and returned it to its rightful place above the bar. “So as I said before, y’all are welcome, free of charge for however long you need.”

“Well, we really appreciate that.” Jax stated with a kind expression.

“Don’t mention it.” Missy smiled as she stepped out from around the bar, reaching up to grab the rope that hung from a small bell that hung from a wooden pillar, giving it one sharp ring to catch everyone's attention. “LAST CALL!”

“C’mon, I’ll show you boys upstairs.”

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

A/N: AHHHHH...I did another thing you guys XD I really need to stop coming up with new ideas lol SHOUT TO JACKSONROTH for helping me on this <3

If you would like to be added to the taglist, please let me know!

TAGLIST: @jacksonroth @cole-winchester @stacie-marie-bloom @journeyrose @penny4yourthot

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artificialqueens · 6 years ago

Text

They Don't Love You Like I Love You 4/? (katlaska) - kamylove

“There is absolutely no factual or metaphorical fucking going on.” Not yet, anyway. Or, Katya and Alaska take the slow train.

It helps Alaska to know she’ll be seeing Katya soon, to know she’ll be able to look into Katya’s eyes with no camera in between, to make sure sure Katya’s as okay as she claims in the days after their phone call. Not that she’s ever known Katya to lie about her mental health; Katya’s more open about it than almost anyone. It’s just that Alaska knows what it’s like to lie to herself.

And Katya hasn’t been dumping her entire psyche on the internet as often lately, so there’s less information to go on.

Alaska turns down the offer of a ride from the airport. Instead, she waits 83 minutes for Katya’s plane to arrive, and buys an iced coffee the way Katya likes it, to take to the gate.

She doesn’t get a chance to hand it over. Katya walks right up to Alaska, pulls her close, and buries her face in Alaska’s neck.

Alaska hugs back, careful not to spill the coffee. “Hey,” she says, and Katya sighs like she’s put down a heavy load.

Are you okay is such an empty question. Alaska says, “Missed you,” instead.

Katya squeezes her tighter and just breathes. Alaska rests her cheek on Katya’s head and they stay that way for a long time, just two gay boys in the sea of travelers that, for these few moments, is passing them by.

<><><>

“I really am okay,” Katya says, as they head to baggage claim. “It’s just nice to have someone who won’t judge me.”

“I judge you for all sorts of things,” Alaska says. “Like that fucking raccoon.”

Katya, waving her drink around in a way that often leads to a big mess, fakes an insulted gasp. Alaska laughs and takes the cup away from her, just in case.

“That fucking raccoon is my best friend!” Katya says. “Don’t insult her, she’ll hear!”

“Is she in your backpack? Is she listening right now?”

“No, but we share a deep, devoted, psychic link.”

“That makes it even more-”

“I lied,” Katya says. She stops without warning in the middle of the concourse, annoying the family behind them.

“What?” Alaska says. Usually she can follow Katya just fine, these days.

Katya looks her in the eye. “I’m a shitty liar. I don’t care who judges me. I just wanted it to be you.”

Alaska feels something warm and unexpected bloom in her chest. Honestly, it hadn’t crossed her mind to question why Katya had called. “I’m glad,” she says. “I’m glad you called and I’m glad I could help.”

Katya smiles at her, and they keep walking.

<><><>

They are, thankfully, not performing that night, so it’s almost the reverse of that first night in Aspen: room service, a couple movies, and Katya falling asleep sooner than either of them expects. Alaska watches her sleep longer than she thinks she should.

In the middle of the night Alaska hears a text notification on her phone, and decides to ignore it. But a few minutes later the phone actually rings and she reaches for it blindly, moving nothing but her arm.

It’s Roxxxy, who must have just arrived, and who sounds wide awake. “Where are you? I went to your room. Are you in there and being rude?”

“I’m in Katya’s,” Alaska says without thinking.

“Really?” Roxxxy says. “You and Katya? You might be skinny bitches, but that’s just hot.”

Katya stirs and throws an arm over Alaska, but Alaska, not wanting to wake her, slips out of bed and into the bathroom.

“It’s not like that,” Alaska says. “She needed a friend. I fell asleep.” It isn’t true; she’d never intended to leave. But she’s not ready to open it up to questioning.

“Okay,” Roxxxy drawls. “So, how many times have you fallen asleep in Katya’s room?”

“Oh, my God,” Alaska groans. “Leave me alone.”

Roxxxy’s still laughing when Alaska hangs up.

<><><>

It’s a short series of shows on the East Coast, just a couple weeks, with most of the All Stars 2 girls. They know each other so well by now that they can just relax and have fun and make people laugh.

Katya can’t even explain to herself what a relief it is to have Alaska there. She loves all the girls, and she’s happy to have them around, too. They keep her busy and entertained. They’re family.

But it’s so nice, and so easy, to have somebody who can keep up with her no matter what, somebody who won’t ask her to slow down or repeat. Their brains spark off each other, like fireworks. If left to their own devices, which happens more and more lately, they’ll take off down a rabbit hole and look up to find hours have passed.

All the Ru girls are smart. Many of them are brilliant. But there aren’t many who are as quick as Alaska.

They rewatch Katya’s episode of Hey Qween together, and Alaska laughs and laughs at how shell-shocked Jonny looks. “You broke him!” she says.

Katya preens. “ADD is my superpower.”

“You can leap 20 topics in a single bound,” Alaska says.

Katya preens some more, but she can’t keep it up. She laughs instead, flailing a bit for effect.

“It’s disturbing how easy it is for me to follow you now,” Alaska says.

“Agreed,” Katya says. “I worry about you.”

“When did I start liking you so much?” Alaska asks.

“I have no idea,” Katya says, “because I am a heartless, hateful bitch. And I’ve never even eaten you out, which is usually what makes me so popular.”

<><><>

Katya: dinosaur

Alaska: bat

Alaska: You are sitting three feet away from me.

Katya: spoilsport

Alaska: harmony

Katya: turnip

Alaska: cowboy

Katya: Czechoslovakian

Katya: eclair

Alaska: jerky

<><><>

Alaska colors in pages from Katya’s coloring book, making them as garish as her imagination can come up with. She likes to practice keeping a straight face when she hands them to Katya, who always pretends to be offended.

“I really question your taste level,” Katya says.

Alaska just gives her another.

<><><>

“So, Miss Alaska,” Alyssa asks her while they’re in line at Starbucks. “Tell me the truth. What is going on with you and Katya?”

“I hate her guts,” Alaska says. “Everyone knows that.”

“All right, all right, if that’s the way you want to play it. But there’s something there.” She points at Alaska’s eyes, and then her own, with two fingers. “I can see it.”

“Well, then, you need to explain to me what that is,” Alaska says, “because I don’t see it.”

Alyssa makes an Alyssa face, but it quickly shifts to something more more mischievous as she says, “She likes you, too, you know.”

Alaska groans. “Will you stop?”

“Okay, I’ll drop it,” Alyssa says. “I can take a hint.”

“Since when?” Alaska asks.

“You shady bitch,” Alyssa says cheerfully.

“If you want drama, you’re going to have to stir it up yourself,” Alaska says. “Try Phi Phi.”

“Ooh,” Alyssa says. “Seriously shady bitch.”

<><><>

“Tell me the truth,” Ginger says quietly, as she and Katya touch up their faces in the same mirror during a show. “I already know you’re sharing rooms.”

“Friends with room sharing benefits?” Katya says.

“Is that the only benefit?”

“Is having access to her wig wardrobe a benefit?”

“You tell me,” Ginger says.

“Honey,” Katya says. “Look at this tragic thing I am wearing.” It’s intentionally ugly, to go with the rest of her look, and she twirls to show it off. “What do you think?”

“Tell me you don’t have a fetish for those long, blond locks?” Ginger asks suspiciously.

“Is not fetish,” Katya says in her Russian accent. “Is obsession. Why you cannot keep straight?”

“Ain’t nothing straight about that,” Ginger says.

<><><>

Alaska: pogo stick

Katya: You’re sitting three feet away from me.

Katya: cactus

Katya: fossil

Alaska: artichoke

Alaska: talent

Katya: Alaska

Alaska: That’s cheating.

“What the fuck are they doing now?” Detox asks.

Tatianna says, “I don’t even want to know.”

<><><>

After the tour, half of the girls, including Katya, are off to Europe for a month, and the rest, including Alaska, go their separate ways.

Alaska has a week in LA and too many things to squeeze in: meetings, interviews, a recording session, dry cleaning. But Willam talks her into going out by saying, “Support your local queens,” which Alaska can never resist.

Standing there, cranberry juice in hand, sighing the occasional autograph as Willam flirts with everyone in a twenty-foot radius, Alaska has trouble keeping her mind on the show. The drag is good, and she claps and cheers and tips, but she reluctantly admits to herself that it’s not where she wants to be.

She’s home so rarely now that she feels out of touch. But she doesn’t think that’s the real problem.

“What’s with you?” Willam asks eventually. “You’re a real downer tonight.”

Alaska just shrugs.

“It’s not right, working as much as you do. You need to say fuck it sometimes.”

“Fuck it,” Alaska says.

“Weren’t you seeing a guy?” Willam says. “The one with the glasses? He was hot. I would have done him.”

“That was months ago,” Alaska says. “I don’t know. He was nice, but he couldn’t hold my attention, you know?”

“Been there, done that,” Willam says.

(A long time later, Katya will say, “You’ve held my attention for at least .09 seconds, which is impressive considering my average is .03,” and Alaska will say, “I’m three times more interesting than average!” and Katya will look at her like she’s an idiot and say, “Duh. Everybody knows that.”)

<><><>

Alaska stays just long enough after the show to say nice things to all the performers, and to demand that Willam give her phone back. (“Be in the moment,” Willam had said. Alaska had rolled her eyes.) She’s performed here many times; she knows where all the exits are, so she sneaks out while Willam’s not looking.

When she turns the phone back on, on the way to her car, she finds just two texts from Katya, which is a surprise.

“Bored. Lonely. Bored,” says the first, and “Need constant entertainment,” says the second.

Alaska facetimes her, and finds Katya just waking up, her hair sticking out in all directions.

“You need a constant audience,” Alaska says.

“That too!” Katya says, pointing her finger at the screen like Alaska’s said something earth shattering.

“Trade?” Alaska asks.

Katya makes a face. “Not that kind of audience,” she says. “Or that kind of lonely.”

Alaska knows exactly what she means.

#alaska thunderfuck #katya zamolodchikova #katlaska #fluff #slow burn #they don't love you like i love you #rpdr fanfiction #kamylove #tdlylily

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