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pstories · 2 years ago

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Punishment (sorta)

It had been a long thirteen years, but Eric had finally finished school. Being that he came home to an empty house on his last day he decided to give himself a little celebration. He went into his bedroom and grabbed his favorite porno DVD, brought it to the living room and popped the disc into the player hooked up to the sixty-inch television. Just as he sat back on the couch and freed his dick the menu came on the screen and he selected the POV option. The woman in the video had huge tits, and they looked even bigger than usual on the big TV. When she pulled the guy’s dick out of his pants Eric imagined it was his. His dick was probably about the same size as Eric’s… eight inches long and about three fingers around. Eric took his erect cock in his hand and began stroking in time with the movement of the woman’s head as she blew the guy. It wasn’t long before he was totally into the movie, he mimicked the movements on-screen and imagined that he was about to blow his load all over those giant tits, stroking his cock in time with her movements. He was so into what he was doing that he didn’t even hear the car pulling into the driveway, nor did he hear the front door open and close. It wasn’t until his sister screamed “What the hell are you doing?” from the room entrance that he became aware of the rest of the world.

Hastily, he stuffed his cock back in his pants. He stood up and ran after his sister, who had gone into the next room and closed, but not locked, the door. Opening the door, he said “What are you doing home? I thought you were off at university for the semester.”

“I have a bunch of laundry that needs doing, and the machines on campus cost a dollar per load. So, I figured I’d save myself some money and do it here at home.” She replied.

“Look, I wasn’t expecting anyone else home until mom came home in a few hours.” Eric explained.

“Well, I didn’t exactly announce my arrival.” Her tone changed… “I’ll tell you what, if you’ll help me bring my laundry in, I won’t tattle.” Eric agreed and went outside to start bringing in his sister Yvette’s clothes.

Later that night, as everyone was getting ready for bed Eric’s mother called him to the living room. As he entered the room and before his mom could say anything his sister blurted. “I swear I didn’t tell her.” Eric’s mother, Yvonne, threw a side-eye glance at Yvette… “As I was straightening up…” she began “I accidentally pushed the eject button on the remote for the DVD player. Out popped this…” she held up Eric’s porno movie. “Care to explain?” Eric was literally speechless. “Apparently I’ve been raising a pervert.” She continued “My mother had a good way of stopping bad behavior.” Her eyes got a distant look as she remembered. “She caught me smoking once, and to teach me a lesson she stood there and watched while I smoked the whole pack… I threw-up twice, but she made me finish every last one. After that I couldn’t even be around someone smoking without getting nauseous.” Her eyes refocused as she returned to the present. So, my punishment for you is that I’m going to sit here and watch you masturbate for one hour. You may not use any lubricant other than your saliva. I don’t care how sore you get; you are to keep going. You may orgasm all you like, you can even use your own cum as a lubricant, but you may not stop for more than a few seconds. Starting NOW! Pull it out and get going.”

Eric thought briefly about rebelling and ignoring his mother, but something told him that things would get even worse fairly quickly. So, he freed his cock, gathered some spit on his fingers and started stroking. Probably because he had been interrupted before cumming earlier it didn’t take long for him to get stiff. Before he even realized it was happening, he was spurting all over his hand. “Keep going.” His mother said matter-of-factly. “You’ve still got fifty-six minutes to go.” His cock deflated a bit, as usual, but between the physical stimulation and the mental image in his head of the woman his father had left his mother for, Brandi, it was only a few moments until he was at full mast again. Maybe it wasn’t really appropriate for him to fantasize about his father’s girlfriend, but just thinking about her giant fake tits on her uber-petite body made him pump his cock faster.

He was on the verge of his second orgasm when his sister stood up and said, “This is too weird for me, I’ll be in my room.” And she stomped out of the room. As Eric’s eyes followed his sister across the room, he couldn’t help noticing that with every step Yvette’s ass jiggled a tiny bit. In the back of his head a tiny voice was saying that he shouldn’t think of his family members like that, but the voice screaming to cum drowned it out, and suddenly he was imagining his sister’s ass on Brandi’s body. It only took a few more strokes for his back to arch and his legs stiffen in orgasm. Not a lot of cum came out though, apparently the law of diminishing returns was already happening.

Yvonne wouldn’t relent though; she stood up from the chair she was in and stood in front of Eric. “You’ve still got forty-five minutes more.” Her voice softened a little, “What do you usually think about to get hard?” she asked “Your ex Erica? Some big boobed woman you see online?” Her voice dropped to a whisper, “Your sister? I saw the way you were looking at her. It’s okay, I know you’re a growing boy, it’s only natural.”

Eric wasn’t thinking clearly, his arm and shoulder was getting tired/sore and despite the lubrication of his cum his dick was feeling chafed. He blurted out, “Brandi… thinking about her always works.” His mother stiffened, “That slut? It’s not enough that she stole my husband, but now my son too?” She stepped in front of Eric, “We’ll see about that.” She said as she unbuttoned her shirt. “Are her tits better than mine?” Eric thought to himself that they really were, but he liked where this situation was heading and he wanted to see how far it would go, so he said maybe. She took the bait… “I’ll bet she wouldn’t do this…” she dropped to her knees and grabbed his slightly flaccid cock from his hand. Pausing momentarily, she started stroking, she was a little rough at first (probably out of practice), but she quickly found a smooth rhythm and returned him to full erection in just a few minutes.

Eric couldn’t believe what was happening, his own mother was stroking his cock. From the look in her eyes that wasn’t going to be all either. Sure enough, almost as soon as he thought it, she said, “I haven’t been with a man since your father left.” That was almost two years ago, Eric thought. “God, I need a good fucking.” She continued, standing up and unbuttoning her pants. She looked at Eric directly, “Yu can’t tell anyone about this…” She lifted her shirt over her head giving Eric his first real look at the plain, white bra covering her smallish boobs. Momentarily her shirt was on the floor, followed by her pants and bra… surprisingly she wasn’t wearing any panties. She stood before him, naked… “What do you think? Have I lost it?”

Eric replied, “I can honestly say that I’ve never wanted to fuck a woman more.”

She leaned down and forward so their faces were inches apart. “You’ll have to forgive the lack of foreplay, but I need your cock inside of me ASAP.” He would never forget her expression as she impaled herself on his member. Her eyes rolled back into her head and her mouth formed an ‘O’ shape, but no sound came out at first. Eventually, a low moan could be heard, and she started fucking in earnest. Not only had Yvonne skipped foreplay, but seemed to forget that any part of Eric existed other than his cock. She had positioned her legs on either side of him so her knees were on the couch, and she could move herself up and down without any input from Eric. She was lost in her own pleasure, bouncing as fast as she could while she mauled her tits and pinched her nipples. Then, with a cry, she froze, and Eric felt his balls get drenched with warm juices.

Yvonne drew in a shuddering breath and looked at her son, “Sorry/not sorry, I really needed that. Now we can take our time and enjoy ourselves.” Maybe that was her intention, but Eric knew better. When his mother came on his cock and drenched his balls it had pushed him right to the edge. It was probably only because he had already cum twice that he was able to keep from cumming again. So, after only a few minutes, he tensed up and orgasmed so quickly and suddenly that Yvonne didn’t even have a chance to climb off. Very little cum came out, thankfully the hour was pretty much over at this point. “I’m sorry mom, I wish I had lasted longer,” Eric said, “But honestly, between the exciting knowledge that I was having sex with my own mother and that your pussy feels amazing my head was spinning and I just couldn’t stop myself.”

Yvonne couldn’t keep the look of disappointment entirely off of her face, but she said, “It’s okay sweetie, I’m sure you’ll do better next time.” She climbed off him.

He looked up at her “So, there’s going to be a next time?”

She started picking up her clothes, “Two conditions, you can’t tell anyone, and your dick is mine now, you’re not to stick it in anyone else without my permission.”

Eric quickly agreed and got himself dressed before heading off to collapse on his bed. Both Yvonne and Eric apparently forgot about Yvette though…

#fiction

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legends-live-in-memories · 4 years ago

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Do You Believe in Magic?

AYO second day in a row can you believe it? I come with more content.

Fics Masterlist

Wallynette Oneshot 3.1K words (no warnings apply) Summary: “What happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object?”

without further ado:

“That’s ridiculous!” He was pacing back and forth, arms waving in the air to compliment his theatrics. “Magic shouldn’t be able to do that, it defies all logic!”

“That’s the point! Magic exists outside of logical reasoning!” The shorter girl was equally as furious, standing in place and growing redder by the minute.

“Nothing exists outside of logical reasoning! Everything can easily be explained with science.” The redhead had paused his pacing to stare down the noirette before him. He was uncaring of his volume, ignorant to how his voice echoed in the large cave. “Your Lucky Charm is nothing more than transdimensional materialisation. An already pre-existing object is broken down into subatomic particles and rearranged at your location.”

“Are you really trying to tell me how my own Lucky Charm works?” She had sounded absolutely livid at the assumption. And Dick had to agree with her. Wally was in no position to tell her how her own powers worked. Before he could interject the screaming match between his two best friends, she was going off again. “And are you really trying to tell me that somewhere in the world existed a red and black-spotted doughnut just waiting to be used? That when Antibug was around a ladybug patterned flamethrower was just lying somewhere?”

“Oh please, there are plenty of flamethrowers all over the world and they probably only appeared ladybug themed due to shifts in light refraction.” He had stopped waving his arms around and crossed them in front of his chest. He was standing in her space now, leering over her trying to be imposing. “Simple fact is magic. Isn’t. Real.”

“You can run faster than the speed of sound! If you really think it was your precious science that saved you after willingly striking yourself with lightning in hopes of tapping into a cross-dimensional ‘speed-force,’ then you’re dumber than I thought.” She had gotten even closer now, pressing a finger into his chest and pushing him back.

“Are they still at this?” Kaldur had walked up beside Dick with two soda cans, silently offering him one. His voice sounded tired, visibly annoyed at the constant bickering.

“An hour and counting,” he sighs. The sounds of their bickering slowly faded into background noise. “For today at least. But they’ve been butting heads ever since she’s joined the team. Kinda exhausting.”

Marinette, a.k.a Ladybug, had joined the team after Wonder Woman deemed Paris officially safe from any more magical mayhem. While the rest of Paris’s heroes chose to retire and preserve the rest of their teen years, Marinette did not have that option. Magical Guardian and all. The JLE welcomed her with open arms and Wonder Woman decided to introduce her to the Team. She got along great with M'gann, the two could almost always be found baking or exchanging recipes in the cave’s kitchen and they, plus Artemis, went on frequent shopping trips. Conner saw her as a little sister, which was unexpected but it probably had to do with the fact she was a whole foot shorter and he had natural instincts to protect those who looked meek. She was anything but meek but first impressions were a damning thing sometimes. Marinette was Kaldur’s biggest supporter, always ready to back him up when it came to tough Team related decisions, something born from her own experience as a leader. The two understood each other the best. She also related to Dick on the importance of secret identities and while the Team still only knows him as Robin, she was the only one who never pestered him on it, respecting the lengths he would go to for the sake of anonymity.

Wally was the only one the newest member clashed with. Magic skeptic, meet magic connoisseur. Unstoppable force, meet immovable object. They almost never agreed on anything. Every time the two were left alone for more than two minutes it evolved into a screaming match. Wally was insistent on pushing all of Marinette’s buttons and she was always eager to defend herself and magic as a whole. Her rather short fuse didn’t make matters any better. It hadn’t affected missions, arguments reserved for the safety of the cave, but it was only a matter of time before that became an actual issue. He voiced as much to Kaldur who agreed with only a contemplative nod.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It’s moments like these where Kaldur hated when Robin was right. At least he was on another mission with Batman so he didn’t have to bear witness to this fiasco.

The Team was currently in Louisiana investigating the disappearance of Dr. Kent Nelson, better known as Dr. Fate, the Sorcerer Supreme. And Wally was being argumentative with Marinette while simultaneously trying to impress M'gann. It had put Artemis on edge and she kept taking jabs at him whenever an opportunity arose. And even when one didn’t.

They had just barely escaped the pit above lava, standing above the cool platform.

“Don’t worry, Megalicious,” Wally had moved to support M'gann, throwing an arm above her shoulders, drawing her into his side. “I’ve got you.”

“Enough!” Artemis had cut in between the two of them, pushing Wally away from the Martian, her frustration palpable even from where Kaldur was standing. “Your little ‘Impress Megan at all costs’ game nearly got us all barbecued.”

“When did this become my fault?”

“When you lied to that whatever it was and called yourself a true believer.”

“Wally, you don’t believe?” M'gann sounded hurt at that. Wally looked across the room, before coming to a silent conclusion.

“Fine, fine! I lied about believing in magic. But magic is the real lie, a major load.”

“I can’t believe you’re still on that.” Marinette, who had remained silent before, finally entered the conversation, ready to defend her craft. “We just fell over five hundred feet below ground into an almost fiery death and you still don’t believe it? Was the magically appearing Tower not enough? Or the fact that our feet are not being scorched right now?”

Wanting to put an end to this conversation, Kaldur said his piece.

“Wally, I have studied for a year at the Conservatory of Sorcery in Atlantis.” He had crouched down, rubbing the surface of the floor. “The mystic arts created the skin icons that power my water bearers.”

“Dude, have you ever heard of bioelectricity? Hey in primitive cultures fire was once considered magical too. Today it’s all just a bunch of tricks.”

“What I do is not a trick. Do you really think destroying the Eiffel Tower, and putting it back in place is just some trick? Or how about when an old akuma was able to control the weather and created a volcano in the middle of Paris? Were those all tricks too? Were the casualties just results of things that don’t exist?” Marinette was becoming increasingly agitated as her rant went on. M'gann moved to comfort her, embracing her slightly.

“Don’t put words in my mouth! I never said the lives lost weren’t real! It was tragic, yeah, but that was due to real scientific explanations.”

“Science can’t bring people back from the dead.” Her voice was more subdued and sombre and her shoulders were curling into her body. The atmosphere was increasingly getting more depressing so Kaldur grabbed onto the latch, hoping that making progress into the mission would revive the Team’s energy.

He ignored Wally’s protests about heat backdrafts and came face first to a rush of frigid air.

“Do you ever get tired of being wrong?” Artemis was rather smug as she threw a smirk over her shoulder. Kaldur just wished the rest of the mission wouldn’t be like this.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Artemis was going to tear her hair out. Or probably Wally’s. Yeah, she was going to tear Wally’s hair out. It had been a week since the Dr. Fate mission and he still hasn't apologized to Marinette. His refusal to believe in magic was not only screwing up the team dynamics but it was forcing Marinette’s hand, pushing her to dig up trauma, to try and prove to him that magic is real. Artemis didn’t understand why it was so important to her that Wally believed in magic but it was and that was enough for Artemis to stand by her friend.

The two haven’t even spoken to each other since the mission and it was painfully obvious that Marinette was avoiding him. Valid, but still aggravating when it put everyone on the team on edge. Artemis wasn’t one to play peacemaker, leaving that to Kaldur and Marinette, but since this ongoing conflict involved the Parasian, and Kaldur had his hands full with a mission in Atlantis, someone had to step up and that person was her. Wonderful.

She had tracked Wally in the medical facility, tinkering with some of the equipment and taking inventory of their supplies, a job Red Tornado routinely asks him to do. She skipped any greeting and just started plucking items out of his hands. Ignoring his protests, she kept going until his hands were empty then grabbed his wrist, pulling him into the training room and shoving him into the center ring.

“Shut up and stay,” was all she said, crossing her arms and freezing him with a glare. She wasn’t in the mood for any of his gimmicks tonight. The sound of the zetatubes announcing the Ladybug designation alerted her to Marinette’s return from Paris. Time for the next part of her plan.

“Don’t move,” she said as she turned to retrieve the other person for her plan. A firm ‘I mean it’ was tossed over her shoulder as she left.

Collecting Marinette was easier said than done. Artemis was headstrong on a good day, she will admit, but now as a woman on a mission she was down right intimidating and she knew it. Marinette took one look at her expression and bolted for the zetatube she just stepped out of. Artemis was having none of that and was able to grab the much shorter girl before she could get any further. While Artemis was mentally applauding herself she was also begrudgingly impressed with how difficult it was to hold the girl. Dragging her to the training deck was becoming more trouble than it was probably worth.

Artemis could pinpoint the exact moment Marinette’s eyes landed on the speedster because her efforts doubled and she almost escaped Artemis’s grasp. She dropped her gracelessly on the floor and moved to block the exit before either could do anything.

“Neither of you are leaving until you work out your issues,” she was huffing from exhaustion, both mental and physical. “Whether that means punching the shit out of each other or talking it out like normal people: I don’t care. But no one leaves this room until you two stop screwing with the team dynamics.”

She left no room for arguments and turned to stand outside the exit, giving them some semblance of privacy. If they didn’t work out their issues here, Artemis’s plan B involved Connor tossing them into the far end of the coastline. Hopefully, Wally and Marinette were reasonable enough it wouldn’t have to come to that.

Oh, who was she kidding?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wally stared at Artemis’s retreating figure and then at a very interesting spot on the cave wall. He felt like an asshole all week and, after his experience with the helmet of Fate, he knew he would have to be the one to mend the ever growing gap between him and Marinette. Still, he couldn’t face her yet. Every time he looked at her, or saw her hastily leave any room he was in, his mind flashed to those haunting words she had said.

Science can’t bring people back from the dead.

He knew that. He knew there were harsh limitations on what science can and can’t do. Magic shouldn’t have been any different. And he thought he understood what she had to deal with during her time in Paris but he was wrong. He was so painfully wrong that it took his body being overtaken by a mystic ‘Lord of Order’ for him to really comprehend that. He just… He just couldn’t wrap his head around someone so young being entrusted with so much power. Magic was inexplicable. It defied reason and was unpredictable so he never understood how someone as self-assured as Marinette could put her faith in something that unreliable. So he lashed out at her. Then he did it again. And again so much so that he can’t remember ever having a civil conversation with her.

He messed up and he knew it but the shame he felt in the past week was too much for him to handle and he couldn’t bring himself to speak.

“Look,” his head snapped to the sound of her voice. She wasn’t looking at him, holding herself for comfort. “I’m sorry for ignoring you, I didn’t realise it was affecting the rest of the team.”

No. no no nonono.

She shouldn’t be apologizing. She had nothing to apologize for and Wally is the ass in this situation not her so why is she apologizing? He needs to fix this. Fast.

“You don’t need to apologize,” such a terrible start, Wallace. Congratulations. “I was the one who pushed your buttons and called magic a big trick.”

She had lifted her head slightly but her gaze still wasn’t focused on him, rather she was looking beyond him just above his shoulder. He took a step closer and when she hadn’t made a break for the exit, he took that as a good sign.

“Listen, Marinette,” her eyes dart to and away from him in an instant. He didn’t let that stop him though. “All those times, times when I called magic fake or belittled its legitimacy, I wasn’t trying to hurt you. I was just trying to wrap my head around its absurdity.”

“It doesn’t matter what you were trying to do,” she finally locked her gaze on him and the pain swimming in her eyes was going to burn him alive. “You still hurt me. You took everything I did, everything I’ve learned and lost and loved and called it a hoax, you called it unreal, and you doubted everything I’ve ever accomplished. I have memories I may never recover from because of magic, scars that will never heal from something you didn’t want to believe in.”

There were unshed tears in her eyes and Wally wanted to brush them away. He didn’t, but fighting the urge was herculean of him. He didn’t get the chance to respond, though, but he wouldn’t dare interrupt her.

“Did you ever realise how those arguments affected me? I used to look up to you, Kid Flash, before joining the team.” He never knew that. Why didn’t he know that? “You were always so cheerful and the media framed you as someone who believed in the impossible. That was something I needed back in Paris. Because there was nothing more impossible to me than ever getting a chance to defeat Hawkmoth.”

She was openly crying now, her cheeks blotchy and eyes red. Wally didn’t know what to say so he took a chance and opened his arms to her. A silent invitation, a quiet apology. Whatever this little spitfire needed from him. He would willingly give it.

She took the offer and crashed her face into his chest, hands grabbing fistfuls of his shirt. He wrapped his arms snuggly around her, almost crushing her to his chest.

“I needed someone who believed in the impossible to believe in me.” Her sobs were heartbreaking. Wally could only caress her on the back in a futile attempt to comfort her. “That someone was you but then you had no problem looking me in the eye and saying you don’t believe in magic. How could you?”

“I am so sorry, Marinette.” He could never apologize enough. He was willing to dedicate his life making it up to her. He was silently praying to gods he also didn’t believe in that she would let him try. Before she could say anything, and he felt the hitch in her shoulders as she was taking steadying breaths to do so, he continued.

“I never knew what I—Kid Flash— meant to you. I only argued against magic so much because I didn’t want to believe that something that unpredictable was the only thing keeping someone like you safe. I heard all the stories; Wonder Woman loved to gush and brag about her mother’s successor, but I could never believe that someone could do such incredible things by magic alone. It was mind boggling.”

Wally felt more than heard the faint gasp at his confession. He pulled her off his chest, holding her a short distance by her shoulders, so that he could look into her eyes.

“I’m really sorry; I don’t think I can ever tell you how sorry I am.” She needed to know how genuine he was. He may clown around a lot but he was absolutely serious in this moment. He hoped she could see the sincerity in his eyes.

“I—,” she cut herself off, and Wally could see her growing frustrated with her own loss of words. She opened her mouth to speak again but she was interrupted.

“OH just kiss already!” Artemis’s rough voice echoed in the room and Wally’s gaze flashed to where her back was facing them by the entrance. She looked uncomfortable standing there but clearly she had an agenda she was seeing through. He didn’t pay her any more attention as he focused back on the increasingly red girl still within his grasps. The hurt that was previously in her eyes was quickly replaced with embarrassment and she couldn’t look Wally in the eyes.

He felt a sudden rush of confidence at her demeanor and hoped he wasn’t about to make the second biggest mistake of his life. He bent his head slightly, casting a smirk at the small girl.

“Well, if that’s what the people want,” he pulled her closer to him then, her mousy ‘eep’ sounding adorable in response. He cupped her chin between two fingers, tilting her head up. “May I?”

She didn’t speak but her answering nod and slow closing of her eyes encouraged him to close the distance between them.

Wally’s been struck by lightning before but it doesn’t compare to the feeling of her lips on his. Her lips tasted like slowly drying tears and her favourite vanilla lip balm. The kiss wasn’t perfect, her lips were slightly chapped, as were his, and their noses bumped into each other, but it was the best kiss of his life.

They broke away from the kiss but neither moved far from each other. They stayed like that for who knows how long. Staring intently at each other, committing the other’s face to memory. And as Wally stared at her tear streaked face and into her slightly red and puffy eyes, he came to a single conclusion.

He definitely believed in magic.

#maribat #mgi trope tussle #enemies to lovers #speed run #wallynette #I am doing such interesting rare pairs for some reason #mlb x dc #ml x dc #tumblr do me a solid #tumblr please stop hiding my posts #no beta this is tussle #mgi event #tumblr wtf pls #AAAAH i completely forgot to mention this was based off a specific piece of canon #yj series season 1 ep 7 btw

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ultraintrovertedgryffindor · 4 years ago

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Sweet Pandemonium - Gally (The Maze Runner) Part 16 of 16

Welp, this is it I guess. I’ve never finished a story of this size before, so ngl, I’m proud of myself. This story was originally gonna be a short possibly two parter imagine, I never intended for this to be 16 chapters long lmao. AND, I didn’t do much pre planning either. I kinda just made things up as I wrote, which is why this story is such a shit show. But a big thank you to the supporters of this shit show, it means a whole fucking lot. Now, back to your regularly scheduled programming...

TW: Page 250

I keep forgetting to tag, fucking hell: @multifandom-fangirl4 @dxllysoutsider @gladerscake

~~~~~~~~~~

( not my gif )

Shakily changing into a stolen guard’s uniform, you found yourself more nervous than you probably should’ve been.

You just dreaded going back, now with the threat of everyone you care about dying.

Before, when it was just you risking your life, it was easier. You didn’t really care if you died if you could save someone else, and you knew that mentality was not the healthiest. But compared to Gally, Thomas, or even Brenda, you didn’t feel like you mattered as much.

What could you possibly have to offer that would be greater than anyone else’s contribution?

“You ready?” Gally smiled at you.

Ah, but being able to be with Gally overpowered those feelings.

“Yup. How do I look?” You teased, jokingly twirling around to show off the heavy uniform.

“Pretty damn good, I gotta say.”

You brushed off the butterflies in your stomach with a scoff. “Well, a good uniform can make anyone look good, I think.”

“I mean, sure. But damn, you really pull it off.”

Your lighthearted conversation was cut short by a sharp cough, looking over to see Newt with an annoyed look on his face. “You guys are bloody disgusting, excuse me while I go vomit.”

“Oh, come on, man. Look at her and tell me she doesn’t look nice.” Gally pointed to you.

“Jesus, keep it in your pants, mate.”

You stifled a laugh as Gally turned a light shade of red, ignoring the suggestive comment with an eye roll. “I’m just sayin’.”

Newt walked away from the amusing exchange, still stifling a few coughs. You couldn’t help but worry. “Does he seem a bit off to you?” You asked. Gally looked to Newt then back to you, the sad look on his face giving you a guarantee that something was wrong.

You would’ve prodded further if it weren’t for Thomas giving the signal that it was time to start infiltrating the W.C.K.D. building.

The way it was planned, Thomas and Teresa would walk in the front together, meeting up with Newt, soon you and Gally would find them, making sure to keep a natural distance away. Brenda’s job seemed the easiest, to you at least, all she had to do was steal a bus. You prayed that Frypan didn’t fall to his death, and that Jorge would get back in time with the Berg.

“You’re worrying.”

You rolled your eyes at Gally’s tone. “Yeah, of course I’m worrying. When do I not worry?”

“Not as much as you’d think.”

Your felt your heavy breaths waft back into your face from the helmet you were wearing not allowing much to circulate. Seriously, how could people do this all day for a job? You ignored the queasy feeling in your gut as you found Teresa with the other two “guards.”

Entering into a stairwell, Gally suddenly stopped the group. “Hold on, hold on.” He said, looking over some sort of electric box. “I can get in here.”

“Kay, throw me the walkie.” Thomas ordered, motioning for you to follow with him to clear the area.

You heard Newt cough heavily as you descended down the stairs with your gun, right behind Thomas. “How long has Newt been like this?” You whispered.

“Now’s not the time, Y/N.” Thomas said, scanning next floor to see that it was clear.

“Thomas.” You pleaded.

Thomas huffed, an annoyed yet mournful face overtaking his features. You knew his answer wouldn’t be good, and you found yourself dreading what he would say. “He’s got the Flare...he’s been like this for awhile now. I just found out myself.” He frowned.

You cast your gaze downwards, tears already welling up in your eyes as you realized what this meant. Thomas didn’t give you a chance to respond as he quickly ascended the stairs back to the others, holding up the radio. “Frypan, we’re in. How you doing?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m getting there.” Fry voiced. “Tell Minho hi for me.”

“Hang in there, buddy.”

Gally soon got into the box, quickly looking through the various labels until finding the right one. “This’ll work.” He assured.

“Okay, Brenda, what’s your status?” Thomas spoke through the radio.

“Working on it.” She answered.

“Copy. Just make sure you’re ready on your end.”

“Don’t worry, you know I’m gonna be there.”

Gally quickly set up the hacking signal up to the correct wires, shutting the box door with a grin. “Alright, let’s go.” Everyone quickly bounded down the stairs, stopping at the door at the bottom. “Lawrence, we’re in position.” Gally radioed, only to be greeted with silence. “Lawrence?”

“If he doesn’t turn those bloody cameras off, then we’re gonna be in big trouble.” Newt expressed everyone’s thoughts.

Gally looked nervous, but peeking though the little window in the door, he huffed. “He’ll do his part.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose, sighing heavily before readjusting the mask part of the helmet over your face. “Let’s get this over with.”

Teresa reluctantly placed her thumb over the ID scanner, and Gally quickly encouraged everyone through the door to cautiously speed through the halls to get to where Minho was being held.

It didn’t take long to find the holding bay with Teresa leading the group, but you didn’t know if getting in would be easy with a bunch of guards inside.

“Teresa, stay back.” You ordered, gently pushing her behind you. The last thing you guys needed was for her getting in the crossfire.

“Ready?” Gally looked to everyone, they all nodded, clutching their weapons tightly.

As soon as the door opened, shots rang out from your side, making work of all the guards in no time. The element of surprise probably helped. “Huh, that was surprisingly easy.” You chuckled breathlessly, almost proud of yourself for getting some decent shots in, the recoil packed a punch though.

“Yeah? Don’t let it go to your head.” Newt sassed.

Seeing all the kids exit their holding cells with looks of hopefulness, almost made you tear up. What could’ve these poor innocent souls had to endure by the hands of W.C.K.D. You risked a glace at your cousin, and you couldn’t tell how she felt. Did she feel joy that these kids were finally getting rescued? Or all that she saw in those kids was possible cure, dehumanizing them for the sake of her morality?

You didn’t want to think about it anymore.

“The vault. How do I get in?” Gally’s voice caught your attention. The person he was holding a gun to simply said that he couldn’t. “Guys, this might take some time.” He voiced after looking over the heavy vault door.

You looked around and furrowed your brows when you saw one key person missing. “Where’s Minho? He’s supposed to be here.”

Thomas scowled, storming up to Teresa. “Where is he?”

Teresa quickly went to the computers, looking up his file. “Someone’s moved him up to the medical wing. Thomas, that’s on the other side of the building.”

Thomas sighed. “Okay, take me to him, right now.”

“Alright, I’m coming with you.” You and Newt both stepped up.

“No. No, you guys have to wait with Gally for the serum.”

“You can’t do this on your own.” Newt argued. “And Minho comes first, remember?”

“Just go, we’re wasting time!” Gally called out. “I’ll get the serum, we’ll meet you out back.”

Thomas nodded to Newt, but turned to you with a remorseful look on his face. “No, no, you’re not making me stay.” You expressed. “I’m part of this as much as he is.”

“Y/N, you’ve done so much for us already. I can’t ask you to do this.”

“I’m offering.”

“No, please. Stay here. We’ll be okay.”

You scowled, exhaling sharply. “Fine. Keep an eye on Newt.” You whispered, Thomas nodding then running out with Newt and Teresa. “Please, be careful.”

“They’ll be fine, just watch my six and the kids.” Gally said, starting to saw into the door.

You stood guard at the door, impatiently tapping your foot as you worried about your friends, especially Newt. You wished he had stayed with you and Gally so you could give him the serum as soon as the vault opened. You knew it wouldn’t cure him, but it would give him time, and that’s what he needed right now.

You heard Gally’s saw stop, smiling ear to ear when the vault door finally opened. You went inside to help Gally load up all the vials, the whole room glowing blue from the color of the serum. “Come on, we need to hurry.”

The room was almost empty of its contents, but staring at one of the only vials left, you debated. Emotion overtook logic as you grabbed a singular vial of the serum, gathering courage and turning around, only to be stopped by Gally. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“I have to find Newt.”

Gally looked at the serum clutched tight in your hand, putting the pieces together quickly. “No, no way.”

“Who know how much time he had left? This can help him.”

“It’s too dangerous.” He said slowly.

“I can’t do nothing while I know I can help him.”

“You’re not doing nothing. You’re gonna help these kids get to Brenda. I’m not letting you.”

“I wasn’t asking.” You said bluntly, a determined look in your eyes that made Gally speechless. He had seen that look before, and he finally realized he wouldn’t be able to convince you to stay with him.

Gally quickly pulled you into a hug with his free arm, placing a rough kiss to the top of your head. “You better come back to me.”

You smiled softly. “I will.”

And with that, you took off without a glance behind you, determined to save your friend from a terrible fate. Of course, if you had glanced behind you to see Gally’s face, you probably wouldn’t been complied to stay. But you had to help Newt, he couldn’t become one of those things. You couldn’t save Gally all those months ago, couldn’t save Jeff...or Chuck. You didn’t want history to repeat itself.

You followed the signs that led you toward where the medical bay would be, making sure to avoid being sighted at all costs. You felt silly hiding in small confined places that made your legs cramp up and wish you had more flexibility or stamina at least. It definitely didn’t help that alarms were blaring all around you, making you believe you actually did get caught. But hearing a few guards talk loudly about how intruders were heading to the medical bay, you realized it was just Thomas who must’ve fucked up, or worse Teresa.

This was going to get a lot harder...

All the guards seemed to rally to the medical bay to capture Thomas and Newt, it wasn’t too difficult to blend in with everyone else distracted from the chaos of it all.

You heard gunshots and glass smashing down the halls of the medical wing. Those boys sure were making it obvious, weren’t they?

You clutched you gun to your chest, not feeling very confident about taking on the guards by yourself, but when you saw your friends with a newly escaped Minho struggling to avoid the guards, you knew you had to do something.

You saying a silent prayer, even though you didn’t know if there was any being out there that heard it, gave you some sort of comfort enough to charge the guards that were gaining on your friends. Shooting at will, not even sure you were hitting any guards, you heard a few men fall to the floor with pained groans.

You didn’t have time to be proud of yourself before you felt a sharp pain in the back of your head, immediately falling to the floor yourself with a yelp.

You looked up to see the annoyed face of Jensen, him leaning down and roughly grabbing onto you and hoisting you up to stand. “You’re a real pain the arse, aren’t you, youngblood?”

Teresa jumped when she heard the doors slam opened, gasping when she saw you on the floor with a bloodied face in front of Jensen. “What the hell, Jensen?”

“Look who I found at the med wing, taking out guards left and right.” Jensen sneered.

“I said alive, Jensen!” Teresa fumed, looking at your almost unconscious form.

“I know what you said, Teresa. She’s breathing, isn’t she?”

Teresa scowled at the man before leaning down to delicately lift you to your feet, ungracefully dragging you to a gurney from the lack of help with your dead weight. “Get out. Thomas is still out there.”

“Your wish is my command, my lady.” Jensen bowed sarcastically, turning on his heel to walk out of the room.

Teresa turned her attention back to you. “I’m so sorry, Y/N.” She whispered, quickly fixing up a wet cloth to wipe away at the blood leaking from your nose and mouth.

You groaned at the pained pressure of the cloth, weakly pushing Teresa’s hand away from your face. “Hurts...” You mumbled.

“I thought you were supposed to stay with Gally.” Teresa fussed, ignoring your discomfort to clean your face. “You shouldn’t have come here.”

“I needed to help Newt...” You frowned, holding up the serum that was once safely in your pocket.

Teresa sighed sadly. “It wouldn’t have saved him.”

“But it would’ve given him time.”

Teresa stayed silent for a moment, deciding what to do with you. You furrowed your brows when you felt her strap you to the gurney tightly. “What’re you...?”

“I can’t have you wondering off, plus, you might have a concussion.” Teresa said, inserting a needle into your arm, pulling blood from your veins.

“You need my blood to keep me from wondering off?” You glared. Teresa avoiding your eyes as she readied another needle. “You’re still looking for a cure...even though there is none.”

“I’m just going to run some tests.” She answered simply.

You bit your lip when you felt tears well up in your eyes, gently banging your head down onto the gurney in frustration. How the hell were you gonna escape now?

Gally could’ve sworn his heart almost stopped when he saw his friends jump out of that window. Did these guys have a death wish? But what scared him even more if that there were only three, not four. Please, tell me she made it... “Where’s Y/N?” Gally tried not to shout.

Thomas eyes widened. “What do you mean? We left her with you!”

“She went to find you guys, to give that shank the serum.” Gally pointed to Newt.

Thomas clenched his fists, feeling anger well up in his gut. “Teresa wouldn’t let her get hurt. If anything, she needs her. We’ll get her back, Gally.”

“I know, cause I’m not leaving without her.”

It felt like hours before you talked to Teresa again, her being so fixated on her tests tubes and microscopes. “Any luck in finding your make believe cure?” You teased mockingly. Teresa stayed silent, watching through her scientific equipment for any sign that her cousin blood did anything to get rid of the Flare virus. Teresa slammed her hands on the table when the blood wasn’t doing anything out of the ordinary. “Guess I’m not the one, huh?”

Teresa glared at you, not appreciating your irritating commentary. She chose to move on to Thomas’ blood that she took back in the church, and her eyes widened when she saw his blood destroying the Flare virus.

Just when she finished making the first serum that she knew would work, the whole building shook as a boom echoed around the whole city.

You strained your neck to look behind you, seeing an almost mushroom cloud of fire at the wall that protected the city. “What the hell...?” Your eyes widened even more when you could faintly see a swarm of people charging through the gap in the wall, quickly realizing that the people were fighting and destroying everything. “Teresa, we have to get out of here.” You said, noticing everyone outside the lab room where thinking the same thing and trying to making a quick escape.

Teresa frowned, storming over to you and removing your restraints, and quickly going back to her experiments. “I can’t.”

You quickly removed yourself from the gurney. “What do you mean? The city’s getting raided. They’ll burn this place down, with us in it.”

“Thomas is the cure, Y/N!” She yelled, making you speechless. “His blood is destroying the virus! He can save us all. I need him.”

“Teresa...if all went as planned, he’s long gone by now.”

“No, he can’t be. Newt is dying and Thomas won’t abandon him, you know that. He’ll be slowing them down. I have to get through to him.” Teresa exhaled shakily. “You can go if you want, I’m staying. I have to.”

You looked to the exit then back to Teresa, your cousin, your only family. In the past, most choices you made were clearly the right ones. But now...you had no idea what to do.

You wanted to choose Teresa...you really did. But you still had the temporary serum, you still had the chance to help Newt. “I’m sorry, Teresa.” You voiced, gaining her attention. “I want to stay with you. But I need to find our friends.”

Teresa’s face fell, frowning. “I understand.”

“I’ll come back for you.” Your voice wavered, feeling intense emotion wash over you, suddenly getting the feeling to tell her you loved her. But you cut the goodbye short, running out of the room and rushed to leave the building.

Thankfully, everyone was so focused on packing up to leave, you had no trouble escaping. But you almost didn’t want to leave the building when you saw the hell on earth that was just outside. But you pushed on, making sure you kept the hold on the vial safely in your hand.

You almost jumped when you heard your cousin’s voice echo around the city’s speakers.

“Thomas? Can you hear me? I need you to listen to me. I know you have no reason to trust me, but I need you to come back. Thomas, you can save Newt. There’s still time for him. There’s a reason Brenda isn’t sick anymore. It’s your blood, do you understand? She isn’t sick because...you cured her. She doesn’t have to be the only one. You just need to come back, and this will all finally be over. Please, just come back to me. I know you’ll-”

The speakers suddenly cut out, as almost all power in the city was down.

You suddenly felt dread wash over you, you had to find Thomas.

Running through the city as fast as you could, you wished you were a Runner, then maybe your legs wouldn’t cramp up every time you exerted yourself. You felt the heat of fires and explosions as you sprinted, dodging multiple guards and people fighting each other. This wasn’t supposed to happen...

Finally getting to a clearing, you stopped to cease the wheezing in your heavy breaths, until you heard screaming. You quickly rounded the corner to see Thomas and Newt...fighting each other.

No...you were too late...

You ran to them, quickly trying to pull Newt off of Thomas, only for his attention to turn to you and tackle you to the ground. “Newt!” You yelled, tearing up quickly at the sight of his dead eyes and Flared up face. “Newt...”

Thomas pushed Newt off of you, giving you the chance to take the vial out of your pocket, but the new Crank got free of Thomas’ hold and attacked you again, the vial violently being thrown from your hand. You internally cringed when you heard a shatter. Fuck...

You felt your vision get blurry when Newt smashed your head against the pavement, the pain resonating throughout your skull and making you feel lightheaded.

You didn’t know what happened after that, you just woke up and Newt wasn’t attacking you anymore. You didn’t hear the sound of struggle anymore. You looked to your left to see Brenda, a look of pained shock on her face. Then you realized, Thomas was sitting next to Newt.

“No...” You whispered.

You crawled over to Thomas, looking down at Newt’s body. You could barely see anything due to the tears that welled up in your eyes, making the world around you blurry. You couldn’t do anything but stare numbly at your fallen friend, unaware that Thomas had left.

“Y/N.”

You knew that voice belonged to Gally, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Or do anything when Frypan wrapped his arms around you to give you some sort of comfort, him feeling the same grief as you, if not worse.

Gally felt the pain of the loss too, but seeing everything being burned down too quickly, he had to speak up. “This place is gonna take us down with it if we don’t get outta here...”

Fry gently pulled you away from Newt’s body, reluctantly motioning for Minho to follow. “Come on.” Fry rubbed your shoulder.

You were basically on autopilot on the way to the Berg, where Jorge, Vince, and the kids were waiting to take off. “We have to find Thomas. He went back to the holding facility.” Brenda voiced worryingly.

“That damn kid.” Vince huffed.

The numbness went away enough to remember that you told Teresa that you’d be back for her. You had to find her again, but the Berg was already being lifted up into the air. In your heart, you knew wherever Thomas was, Teresa was most likely with him. That’s something you could rely on, at least.

“Hey...” Gally sat next to you, gently holding your hand. You could faintly see tear marks down his face, his eyes a shade of red and watery. “We’ll find them.”

You wished you believed that, but after everything that’s happened, you felt having hope was childish. You couldn’t bear to hope just for things to end terribly.

“I think I got him!” You heard Jorge shout, everyone, including you, rallying to the front to look out the Berg’s window.

“Yeah, that’s him. I got the hatch.” Brenda said, quickly springing into action.

“Alright, I got him. I got him.” Jorge said, proceeding to carefully turn the Berg around so the now open hatch was facing the burning building roof. “I can’t get any closer!”

Everyone crowded the hatch, calling out for Thomas and Teresa on the roof, reaching out their hands to grab them. Quickly noticing that he was injured badly, you started to reach out as well. “Thomas! Teresa! Come on!”

“Get closer!” Teresa called out.

“Jump!” Vince yelled, his body almost half out of the aircraft trying to reach.

“We gotta get closer!” Gally yelled to Jorge.

“Come on, reach!”

The Berg finally got close enough to where Teresa could help Thomas onto the hatch, everyone quickly pulling him inside. You looked back to Teresa, holding out your hand as far as you could. “Your turn, jump!” You called out. You furrowed your brows in confusion when Teresa made no effort to move, not even to reach out for you. You could see the debate in her eyes, wondering if she actually deserved to live or not. “Don’t leave me!”

Teresa’s eyes softened, almost bringing her to tears upon hearing that short but impactful sentence. In a matter of a few seconds, the next building over was destroyed, large chunks of debris falling, making the roof collapse into itself, taking your cousin with it.

“No!” You sobbed loudly, ripping apart your vocal cords and feeling your heart break in two.

The Berg quickly left the destroyed area, bringing you all back to their base to pack up and finally go to a place called the “Safe Haven.”

You fell back, feeling grief and guilt weigh you down. I shouldn’t have left her...she would be here if I had just stayed...

You looked to see that Thomas passed out, but he was alive. Brenda and Gally quickly patched him up, but he would have to be better treated when the Berg arrived.

Gally just sat next to you the whole ride, not saying anything, not even attempting to give you comforting touches in fear that it would just make things worse, he just sat there to let you know he was there for you.

Everything felt like it was moving too fast, like time sped up without warning or giving you time to adjust. It made you feel nauseous, but you had nothing in your stomach to throw up, besides bile, you which you did upchuck. You huffed at the burning feeling in your throat. “Damn it...”

Gally was right by your side, rubbing your back and telling you everything would be okay. But it wouldn’t be okay. You lost your close friend, and then you lost your only family that you had left. You couldn’t help the new flow of tears, Gally quickly pulling you close to lean on his chest. “It’s okay. Let it out...” He said softly.

“I could’ve...I could’ve...” You hiccupped.

“There’s nothing you could’ve done, sweetheart.” Gally hugged you tighter, feeling your body rack with heavy cries.

Hours later, you finally calmed down, the tears ran out a long time ago. But you noticed the machine hum of the Berg stopped. “We’re here!” Jorge called out, making you flinch at the sudden shout.

“Come on, help me get Thomas situated.” Vince called out, gathering the group to carry him, including Gally.

You stepped out of the Berg to immediately smell a slight salty scent, you never smelled anything like it. And you heard an unfamiliar sound, almost like white noise. It was just after sunset, but it was still a little light out. But you instantly recognized the light tan sandy ground, the water the stretched out for miles and miles to the horizon.

You’d never seen a beach before, not even before your memory wipe before the Maze. It was beautiful, but you would appreciate it better without the rotting feeling of grief weighing on your shoulders.

You walked to where you saw Vince take Thomas, stopping right outside the entrance of the wooden hut. “Is he okay?” You asked softly.

“He’ll be okay.” Vince answered. “He should wake up soon, but I have to go and make sure things have been taken care of while I’ve been gone.” And with that, Vince walked away with a fast pace.

Minho then exited the hut, meeting you with wide eyes. “Hey...” He said awkwardly, making you give a tight lipped smile. “I’m...sorry, about Teresa. I know how important she was to you.”

You didn’t want to cry anymore, you were sick of crying and the thought alone made you exhausted. “I’m sorry about Newt. He...he was a good guy.”

Minho’s lip quivered slightly, but quickly covered it up with a sigh. “We all lost him.”

You brought him into a hug, not knowing what else to do. It was weird at first, you two weren’t the type to show physical affection to each other, but you felt the situation called for it. Minho hugged you back tightly, trying not to cry at the thought of never being able to hug his best friend again.

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m tired.” You sighed.

“Yeah, I think everyone is. It would be weird if they weren’t.” Minho looked past you and smiled to himself weakly. “I think I should get some sleep. I’ll see you later.” You turned to watch Minho walk off, giving Gally a slight nod as he passed him.

Gally walked up to you with a small smile. “I would ask if you’re okay, but I feel like that question is pretty obvious.”

“Yeah...” You whispered. “I’m just fucking exhausted.”

Gally frowned, placing a hand on your shoulder. “Vince already has some beds set up for us. Shall we go?”

You nodded. “That sounds nice.”

You and Gally set up your beds next to each other, at your insistent request. To be fair, in a new environment, you didn’t feel safe at all. Ironic in the “Safe Haven.”

You didn’t get a lot of sleep, constantly worrying about how Thomas was doing. Gally seemed to sense your worry. “He’ll be fine. He’s a stubborn kid.” He said, bringing you closer to him. It did seem to relax you as you fell asleep soon after, but that didn’t stop the influx of nightmares to plague your subconscious.

The next morning, everyone was up and atom, but you and your friends seemed to have been allowed to sleep in. “Who knew waking up beside you would be so nice?” You opened your eyes to see Gally smiling softly at you. You tried not to blush, temporarily forgetting the events that happened last night.

“You guys are disgusting.” Fry suddenly voiced loudly.

“You jealous, Fry?”

“Are you kidding? Of course I am.”

You chuckled weakly at the interaction, but you sat up and stretched, looking around to see the beach lit up in its full glory. “Wow...” You whispered.

Waking up to such a beautiful sight, it did bring a small smile to your face. You wished so badly that Newt and Teresa were there to share it with everyone too, but you tried to shake those thoughts away.

Later that day, you sat beside Minho and Jorge, watching Gally help build something from afar. “He’s lucky to have you.” Minho smirked, picking at the fruit in his hand.

You smiled slightly, not truly believing it. “It’s the other way around really.”

“Well, whatever. You two are good for each other.” Minho rolled his eyes, making you chuckle. “Thomas...” You heard Minho suddenly whisper, and you looked in the same direction he was, seeing that Thomas was indeed walking through the new area.

You and Minho quickly stood up, slowly walking towards Thomas, along with everyone else behind you guys. Thomas’ eyes were tired, just like the rest of yours probably were. He didn’t smile, you couldn’t blame him. There was nothing to say, so Minho brought Thomas into a hug. You were in so much pain from the loss of your cousin, but Thomas was in love with her, you couldn’t imagine how he felt. He lost two of the most important people to him.

You hugged Thomas too, silently communicating each other’s condolences through the gesture.

That night, you and Gally sat next to each other as everyone else gathered to hear Vince speak at the bonfire that was set up, a celebration of sorts of surviving.

“We have come a long way together.” Vince started. “So many have sacrificed so much to make this place possible. Your friends, and your family. So here's to the ones who couldn't be here, here's to the friends we lost. This place is for you. It's for all of us, but this,” He held up a knife, pointing it to the large stone pillar in front of the crowd, “this is for them. So in your own time, in your own way, come make your peace. And welcome to the Safe Haven!” He cheered, the crowd following suit.

You forced yourself to smile as you held up the drink in your hand, following along with the rest of the crowd that were actually happy to be there. You were too, but it was hard to convey those feelings. Celebrating didn’t feel right, not this soon anyway.

You watched as multiple people lined up to carve their fallen friend’s or family’s names onto the pillar. You knew who’s name Minho would carve, it was obvious. But you didn’t expect Gally to get up and carve a name. Of course you were curious, but it seemed like it would be personal.

You had a name in mind, but you looked over to Thomas who was frowning while reading something. You knew Teresa meant something to him too, they were close, almost as close you and her had been when you were kids. But you two were kids, you two grew apart. You didn’t know her in the end, not truly. You knew you didn’t deserve to be the one to carve her name. You would let Thomas be the one.

You thought back to your past, having more names pop up in your head, only one truly sticking out.

You stood up after the crowd cleared, walking to the stone pillar with the knife in hand. You found the place for the name, thankful that the light from the fire still reached. You held up the knife and started carving the name.

You smiled fondly when it was done.

“Who’s that?” Gally walked up behind you, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder.

You took a deep breath. “My baby sister...”

“You had a sister?”

“Yeah, my parents wanted me to choose the name, but she got the Flare along with them before I could give her one. It was only a week later that I finally gave her a name...even if she was dead.”

“How old was she?”

You frowned. “...three days old.”

“Y/N...I’m so sorry.”

You turned around to see Gally’s solemn face, but you smiled weakly. “I just have to believe she would’ve been better off, or in a better place.”

Gally only nodded, taking his hands in yours and leading you away to walk along the shore. “Things will be better here.”

“You really think so?” You asked, not sounding very hopeful.

“It have to be. We fought so hard for this.”

“I hope your right, Gally. What’ll life be like here though?” You wondered aloud.

Gally suddenly smiled giddily. “We’ll build our own city.” He nodded confidently, making you scoff.

“Oh really?” You raised your eyebrows skeptically, but a smile playing at the corner of your lips.

“Yeah! And we’ll have parties and bonfires every night.”

You couldn’t help but laugh loudly. “Easy there, tiger. We’ve only been here one day. Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

“Come on, dare to dream, Y/N.” He grinned.

“I’ll leave the dreaming up to you, Captain.”

You and Gally stopped and sat on a little incline of the shore to take a break from walking, just watching the sun come up.

Gally was sitting behind you, his arms wrapped around your shoulders and you leaning into him comfortably. You basked in his body heat, shielding you from the slightly chilly air from the ocean tides. It felt nice, the nicest feeling you’ve felt in the past few days.

You looked up to see Gally’s eyes entranced in watching the waves, his lips naturally upturned in a slight smile.

You leaned up and placed a soft kiss to the underside of his jaw, seeing his eyes briefly close at the feeling and his smile growing into a shy grin. He turned his head and leaned down to place a kiss to your lips. “I love you, you know.”

You grinned. “Yeah, I know. I love you too...so much.”

Looking back to the ocean, you knew you guys were going to be okay now.

~~~~~~~~~~

Welp, yeah...I’m having trouble liking the ending, but I hope y’all do at least. BUT SIKE, this ain’t the end(technically). I’m planning on releasing a bonus chapter reallll soon, for all those heathens that wanted smut ;)

But for those not into that sorta thing, don’t worry! It’s not gonna forward the plot in any way, this chapter is the end of the main story, so you won’t miss anything. Just fluff and smut

#sweet pandemonium series #the maze runner #tmr gally #gally x reader #gally

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anika-ann · 4 years ago

Text

The 5 Times Steve Felt Betrayed - Pt.1

and the 1 Time He Felt Like He Was Betraying You

Type: mini-series to a series (part 1 & part 2 & Part 3), Avenger!reader AU.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader, Matt Murdock & reader

Word count (ch1): 2400

Summary: After the fiasco in Nigeria, the world is fed up with dealing with the Avengers’ mess. The Sokovia Accords are invented. It’s understandable that the team is divided.

But Steve would never expect that The Accords would wedge a split between the two of you as well. And he sure as hell wouldn’t expect your disagreement not to end there.

Warnings: mentions of cheating, talk about what happened in Lagos during CA:CW, langauge, angst? (I mean, check out the title)

A/N: So, this mini-series is a part of the Melting Hearts ‘verse and follows the events of CA: Civil War, sometimes only referencing and kinda expecting the readers to knwo what’s up ;) obviously some things will be slightly altered.

Will be posted in double chapters (1st &2nd time, 3th & 4th, 5th+1)

────── ·❆· ──────

1. (Cause & Consequence)

“Our people's blood is spilled on foreign soil. Not only because of the actions of criminals, but by the indifference of those pledged to stop them. Victory at the expense of the innocent… is no victory at all.��

Steve shut the TV down, placing the remote control on the table. His fingers went to massage the bridge of his nose.

It was everywhere – a month after the fiasco in Lagos, they were still talking about it in the news. This time it was the king of Wakanda speaking, questioning the activities of the Avengers team.

And during the past weeks, he had barely been the only one.

Steve was well-aware of their mistakes – of his mistake. The way he had lost it with Rumlow was unforgivable, especially with so many lives lost. Wanda might have been the one to send the exploding man into the building full of civilians, but Steve was watching the source of the tragedy every goddamn day in the mirror.

He had failed to deal with the HYDRA mercenary. Wanda had saved Steve’s life when she removed the burning man out of his reach, accidently blowing up a building. You had tried your best to put out the fire in the building with your powers, but the damage had already been done.

It had been a collective error. But Steve knew that if they hadn’t been in Nigeria in the first place, many more people would die. And it was what he was trying to hold onto, some days handling it better than others.

If the public thought they didn’t feel remorse at what had happened, they were very, oh so very wrong.

He winced when the voice of the reporter he had just shut down evaded his ears again, and frowned.

He knew it couldn’t be you – you weren’t home, which was just another thing to make him feel like crap. You were spending a lot of time away lately – Steve couldn’t help but wondering if it was his fault too, if he had driven you away with his dark thoughts.

And then there were moments when he wasn’t sure if it wasn’t simply you not being able to look at him, not seeing him in the same light as you had used to when you had said yes to his proposal.

Were you gone because you were judging him for freezing at Bucky’s name? For not handling the situation? He couldn’t help but feel a little betrayed. Loving someone… it shouldn’t be about expecting something back, but… after all the support he gave you whenever you were struggling? He thought you would be there for him.

But maybe it was just too much for you, dealing with yourself and comforting him at the same time – it would only confirm his theory about you feeling guilty for some of the victims.

However… why wouldn’t you try to deal with your own feelings with Steve? He was hundred percent sure you thought you could have done more, be there sooner, hell, stop the explosion yourself. He knew you felt like it was your failure as much as his and Wanda’s – or at least he believed so.

But why were you seeking shelter somewhere else? He was your fiancé – a person you had agreed to spend the rest of your life with – so why weren’t you with him in a time like this? Your relationship had been very intimate from the very beginning after all, only blossoming into more with time.

So why had you gone to see another man again? He couldn’t help the nagging pang of betrayal and jealousy. You always said you needed to see Matt Murdock. How could it not get into his very core and wound him there? Especially when after those meetings with Matt, you always seemed restless, jumping at the slightest of sounds, often escaping to the gym, claiming you needed few more moments alone.

“I’m sorry,” you would always say, a regretful smile on your lips, your gaze avoiding his. “I just… I guess I just need to hit something and I don’t want you to see me like that.”

And then you would hug him, kiss his cheek gently, sometimes pressing your lips to his for a split second and you’d be gone. Truth to your words, you would always come back exhausted, but somewhat calmer and offering affection with more urgency than usual to make up for the lost time.

Steve had no idea what to think about that or how to approach the matter.

What he knew he could do, however, was to walk into Wanda’s room and turn off her goddamn TV, because he was sure the voice was coming from there – no one had watched the news with more intensity than her, always coming after any new bits about the incident in Lagos so she could torture herself.

That girl was way too much like you.

“It’s my fault,” she stated when she acknowledged his presence. It was hard not to, since he had turned off the broadcast.

“That’s not true.”

“Turn the TV back on. They’re being very specific.”

“Well, what they say on TV is a load of— stupid things. We both know that I should have handled the situation way before you had to intervene. People died. And unlike what they say on the news – that’s on me,” he said, heavily seating himself next to her on her bed.

She gave him a sorrowful smile. “Well. I guess it’s on both of us.”

And not on the three of us, Steve’s mind supplied helpfully in an instant and he sighed at the intrusive voice in the back of his head.

“She’s out again. I’m sorry. She’s taking it pretty hard, especially considering it wasn’t her fault at all,” Wanda offered gently and Steve mentally cursed at the mind-reader slash empath slash million other things. “She’s afraid too. She worries for you, because of the way the mission affected you. But she’s not blaming you.”

Steve eyed her, meeting her honest gaze full of compassion.

“Well, she could say that by herself, but she won’t. Instead…”

“You know… she was very fast at learning how to build a wall in her head to shield her thoughts from me. I can’t read her mind… but I can always tell there’s a lot on it when she comes back,” the Sokovian informed him and Steve stiffened.

Yeah, that was exactly the thing he did not want to hear.

“The thing is… she’s terrible at hiding her emotions. I… I’m not gonna pretend I don’t know what crosses your mind from time to time, I don’t need to read thoughts for that, or emotions. But I can tell you that she only has feelings for you, Steve. Her heart – it’s always with you. She’s carrying it on her sleeve, but it’s yours. You got yourself a good woman, Captain. A troubled one, sure,” she chuckled softly, apparently pleased she felt Steve’s relief. And relieved he was; you weren’t cheating on him. You weren’t thinking about cheating on him. You still loved him. You didn’t blame him. It was as if he could breathe again, indescribable weight falling off him. “But a loyal one and good one.”

Steve covered her hand with his, determined to sooth her as well. “Well. I knew from the beginning that you two were too much alike.”

“Thank you, Steve,” she smiled at him softly and Steve wished he wasn’t imagining the slightest relief in her eyes as well.

“No, Wanda. Thank you.”

────── ·❆· ──────

2. (Empty Promises)

The Sokovia Accords. A miraculous solution to the problem of the uncontrollable bunch of (mostly) superhumans that hold no responsibility for their action.

Go. To. Hell.

Steve wanted to burn the hundreds-pages document to ashes. It was nonsense. The document just shifted the blame to someone else and wanted to put all of them in check; in a way Steve didn’t like at all.

As long as he remembered, all he wanted was to do good – to serve his country, sure, but mainly to serve the people in it, serve a good purpose. And this regulation went straight against it. Hell, it went against the promise he had once made to the man who gave him the power to fight for a good cause, because he had thought Steve could value it. And he did. He heard Doctor Erskine’s voice as clearly as if he was sitting on the opposite bed at the Camp Lehigh, the night before the procedure.

‘Promise me, that you will stay who you are. Not a perfect soldier – but a good man.’

Being a perfect soldier meant obeying orders and not thinking twice it they meant doing the right thing or not. Being a good man meant standing for what he believed was good with his whole heart.

Signing this peace of— paper would go against everything he believed in.

“We’re not perfect, but the safest hands are still our own,” Steve finished the argumentation and that said it all.

He looked up at Tony with intense glare, his blue eyes gleaming with severity. The air felt too heavy to breathe, the silence itself weighting a ton.

It was your timid voice that cut it in the end and what you said made Steve’s heart ache.

“That’s not something all of us can say about themselves, Steve.”

His attention shifted to you, his lips parting at the well-known expression on your face. His shoulders slumped with a sigh.

Apparently, he had been right about Nigeria – you did feel guilty. And the beginning of your new life with powers had branded you forever as well; this was just another prove of that. A scar for life – the way you saw yourself after killing the scientists on accident, it was affecting you every goddamn minute of your existence and some were just more difficult than others.

“No matter the mistakes we have made, the lives lost on our watch – it doesn’t outweigh the good we’re doing,” he opposed you gently before turning back to Tony to make a point. “The good we might not be able to do if we sign.”

The billionaire huffed. “If we don’t do this now, it will be done to us later. That’s a fact. And it won’t be pretty.”

“You say they’ll come for me,” Wanda stated with scary steadiness to her voice and all eyes snapped to her.

“We would protect you.”

For some reason, Steve’s gut twisted at Vision’s measured voice. A discussion started all over again and Steve was slowly losing the grasp on who was on which side. He glanced your direction as you were observing the fighting team quietly, a troubled expression on your face – the very same he had seen all too often, every time you had come back to the compound.

With sudden urge to comfort you, he rose to his feet and made his way to you. It was when his phone vibrated in his pocket, announcing the worst possible news.

Peggy Carter had just died.

“I gotta go.”

────── ·❆· ──────

You had gone to London with him, together with Sam. It was… difficult. Soul-crashing. Steve knew that this day would come, possibly very soon, but it hit him like a train, the blow knocking him to the ground.

The blows just kept coming and Steve would love to make a cheeky comment about him being able to do that all day, but this beating was hitting him on places that really, really hurt and he couldn’t bear it. He cried when he carried the casket. He didn’t have the capacity to feel ashamed for it.

God knew you had been there for him as a silent support the whole time; even when he was shamelessly staring at the woman he knew as a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent and she introduced herself as Sharon Carter. Peggy’s niece.

To be fair, it wasn’t just the revelation of her relation to Peggy or her appearance – it was her, quoting an amazingly strong and inspirational woman, who had, just like Steve, always only wanted to do the right thing. It moved him in a way he wouldn’t be able to put into words if anyone asked him to do so.

You had given him a moment alone only when he had asked for it – you had left the church with everyone else.

It surprised him when he heard the door opening again after what could be a minute; but it wasn’t you. It was Natasha. Bringing up the issue of The Sokovia Accords that Steve had backburned without even realizing it.

His opinion hadn’t changed and he refused to leave to Vienna with Natasha. It was when you replaced her in the otherwise empty church, approaching him slowly and timidly, when he realized that you were about to that though.

“You’re coming with her,” he stated, unable to keep the bitterness off his tone.

Just another punch into his solar plexus. Sure. He could do this all day.

Your smaller hand caught his, for once warmer than his own despite the cold air of the church. Your eyes were on his too, searching in his face. He didn’t have the strength to hide anything from you now.

“Unless you want me to… no, not now. I don’t need to sign publicly – I’m a long way from Black Widow’s popularity and fame.”

“You know that’s not true,” he opposed wryly, too weak to snatch your hand away.

It felt too heavy against his, almost foreign; he hadn’t known if you had made up your mind and decided to sign, not until that moment, not for sure. Now he did. Yet, there was a comfort he was seeking in your touch, because it was something that always helped to calm him down, ground him. He was vainly chasing after the feeling now.

Sensing his struggle, you hesitantly brought your hand up to cup his cheek; on instinct more than anything else, he leaned into the touch, closing his eyes. Your thumb skimmed over his skin, affectionate, giving.

“And you know I don’t need an audience,” you whispered. “I… I can’t imagine what you’re going through, Steve. I want to be here for you, if you want as well. Work can wait.”

Your words, your touch, your affection – it should all bring him peace, but it just wasn’t coming. His first true love had left this world, left him, and now it felt like you were leaving him too – leaving him behind and betraying an oath you had premised when you let him slip an engagement ring on your finger.

────── ·❆· ──────

Part 2 (the third and the fourth time)

────── ·❆· ──��───

Thank you for reading!

I decided to post it here on tumblr in double-chapters, because they would be reatively short otherwise... but posting it as one monster chapter would be a bit much... I think.

Have a good start of your week!

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yuthoe · 4 years ago

Text

Day 10: Paint Me (PENTAGON: Kino)

OH MY LORD THIS TURNED OUT LONGER THAN I PLANNED AND IT'S 12:30AM HERE, BUT IM JUST GONNA POST IT AND ADD THE REST OF THE TAGS LATER

anyway, today's prompt from this list is

Day 10: Meet Cute

and the scenario of reaching out for the same thing at the same time just would not leave my head lmao. so have this haha, it took me a surprisingly short time to finish, but the only reason im posting this on the 11th is that i was procrastinating

PAIRING: Kino/Kang Hyunggu x reader. GENRE: fic, fluff. WARNINGS: none. WORD COUNT: 1,389.

---

Art Bar is four hours away from your apartment, and therefore a luxury you only indulge in every few months, when you have a free day or two. It’s also an excuse for you to splurge and get new art supplies—your favorite brush broke last week and you’ve run out of green paint for the landscape piece you’ve been working on.

But also there’s this really high quality sketchbook they started selling recently and you desperately want one. You’d been eyeing it for the past month, sighing wistfully every time an ad for it crossed your feed on social media.

The faint smell of coffee slips past your nose as you push past the glass doors, and you take a look at the overhead menu of the cafe corner by the entrance, making a mental note to get a latte after you do your shopping. You hook a metal shopping basket on your elbow and head in.

The first stop is the brushes, and you quickly look through the choices for the exact ones that broke, and another finer brush as replacement for the one that’s currently losing a lot of hair. You eye one of the more expensive options, biting your lip and considering getting one, but you’re probably not going to end up using it for fear of wearing out the bristles.

You quickly look away and head for the oil paints, running through the really good selection, and pluck out a green, white, and black tube, along with a pink for the flowers. The pile of canvases off to the side catch your eye and lure you over, immediately taking a 24cm round canvas, just about the size of a small platter and perfect for an experimental circular piece.

The voice inside your head is screaming at you to mind your spending, but your sense of reason and all self-control get left at the door whenever you step into the store. The copic markers are teasing you, sitting docilely in their neatly organized shelves, and the section of the store dedicated solely for Faber Castell tools further entices you to grab a whole colored pencils set and just run away with it.

But you sigh deeply, stroke the row of pencils longingly and whisper, “Soon, my lovelies…”

You look around for that sketchbook that’s been haunting your waking moments, finally spotting it by the cash registers and beelining for it.

There’s one sample left open and you run your fingertips over the page, testing the smoothness of the paper, the thickness of every page, and inspect the ones filled out with watercolor, charcoal, and regular graphite. The more you look at it, the more you desperately want it.

Alas, it’s expensive, and you can’t afford a really big one right now, especially with the other tools in your basket that need to be purchased, so you go for the next smaller size instead.

A hand meets yours as you reach for the pad, and you jerk back. The owner of the hand recoils as well and says, “Oh, I’m sorry—were you about to get that?”

Oh, he’s cute, you think, dumbly nodding at his question. “Ah, yeah… But it’s okay, you can take it.”

He tilts his head, brows furrowing slightly and chestnut hair falling over his pretty eyes. He’s carrying his own shopping basket, loaded with a few small rectangular canvases, a bunch of copic markers, brushes, and a watercolor tin. “Are you sure? I think you were reaching for it first, though. And it’s the last one on display.”

You shake your head. “No, it’s fine, it’s fine. I’m pretty sure they have more at the back anyway, ‘cuz this brand has gotten pretty good reviews lately.”

“Ah yeah, that’s true,” he replies, wagging a finger at you. “I’ve seen a lot of reviews of it on YouTube, and I’ve been wanting one so bad.” He giggles, looking at the sketchbook fondly.

“I totally get it, I’ve been saving up for one for a while, too.” You smile at him. “That’s why I’m saying you should just take it, they probably have more in stock.”

He hums, thinking it over, but the allure of the sketchbook is too strong and he says, “Well, if you insist, I’ll gladly take it.” He picks up the last packaged sketchbook and slides it next to the canvases in his basket. “Thanks for this,” he says as you both move to the register.

It takes a while for him to pay for his items and you look around the frames displayed behind the counter as you wait. After around five minutes, the man steps aside with a hug bag, cradling it like a child. You see him move to admire the Faber Castell section nearby as you step forward with your basket.

“Excuse me,” you ask the cashier as you set the basket on the countertop. “Is there any more of the A4 size of that new sketchbook?”

“I’ll check our inventory for you,” she cheerily says, typing in a code in the computer and looking at it briefly before turning back to you. “Oh, I’m sorry, it seems like the last A4 one was just purchased. The next restock won’t be for another week or two. If you want, we can get your number and notify you when our stock is replenished.”

You can’t help but feel a bit down at the cashier’s answer—you have been waiting for weeks to get one, and who knows now when you’ll be able to stop by here again?

“No, it’s okay,” you say and gesture to the basket. “Just these then, please.”

The transaction is smooth and soon enough you’re clutching a paper bag of your own and heading for the cafe corner to get that latte—and a cupcake because you want to feel slightly better about the situation.

Sketchbook Guy is there too, his lavender patterned cardigan contrasting with the green diamonds wallpaper in the most complementary way. He turns to go to the claiming area and sees you, waves with a tight smile on his face.

You reply with a smile and order at the counter quickly, and step aside to wait for your coffee and pastry beside Sketchbook Guy.

There’s an awkward silence between you, until he finally blurts out, “Okay, I couldn’t help but overhear the cashier lady earlier.” He rummages in his paper bag and takes out the coveted sketchbook, holding it out to you. “Please have this. You said you were saving up for it for a while.”

“No, I can’t,” you say, waving your hand to decline him. “You already paid for it, and I told you to take it, anyway.”

Sketchbook Guy smiles, nudging the book closer to you. “Please. I insist. And if it’s the payment you’re concerned about, you can pay me back. With coffee, or something.”

You scoff. “This costs way more than one cup of coffee.”

He’s nodding before you’re even finished speaking. “Yeah, I know.” There’s a mischievous purse to his lips and your brows knit for a moment before you register his words and feel a heat rise to your cheeks.

“Ah… uh… I mean, sure? Okay?” you stammer, taking the sketchbook with both hands and looking at it before meeting his eyes again. “I live quite far from here, though, so—I don’t know—maybe we can, like, schedule something?”

He smiles even wider. “Yeah, of course. Here, I’ll give you my number.” He holds a hand out and you pass your phone to him. Long fingers tap on the screen and you hear a soft piano a moment later.

“Here you go,” he says, handing your phone back. You peek at the screen, at the new contact simply named Hyunggu, and the string of numbers underneath it. “Now you know my name and number, and we can talk about when you can buy me that coffee.”

This dude has got to be the smoothest and most charming guy you’ve ever met, and it’s leaving you flustered and amused at the same time. You’re basically left with no choice but to go along with him, but you don’t even mind it.

“Okay,” you say, nodding and pocketing your phone as your drink and to-go bag arrive. “My name’s Y/N. I’ll message you later about that coffee.”

#kdiarynet #theme: may trope mayhem 2021 #pentagon #pentagon kino #kino #kang kino #kang hyunggu #fic: mine #fic: kino #fic: not spicy

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sardonic-courtney · 4 years ago

Text

Crowley x Reader. We Met Before. P3/7

Summary: You end up living with Bobby after your parents die. You go to church and meet Priest Crowley and you end up getting along (if you know what i mean). A few years later when Bobby passes you move the the bunker with Sam and Dean and end up meeting Crowley again.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

Warnings: Mention of loss, Spelling mistakes, you go to church?

Around 2500 words.

Let’s Get Coffee.

“Yay thank you” You yelled heading up the stairs to get changed…

Training went well, although you didn’t really do much. Bobby who was still reluctant helped you to shoot inanimate objects and some basic hand to hand combat with no weapons, because in his words “you won’t always have a weapon on you so that’s the best place to start.” You are pretty sure it’s just because he is buying time before the brothers come into town so they can deal with the more athletic training. Not because Bobby wasn’t good, he was but he was quite impatient and not the best Teacher.

Time Skip to the Next Saturday Night brought to you by Juliet.

The last week consisted of a few training lessons here and there, you were starting to get really good with a gun, and to Bobby’s ‘luck’ he did some blade training and you actually weren’t half bad. Right now, you were eating takeaway, 8pm, on the sofa with Bobby watching some old tv show.

“So kid, Winchesters are coming round tomorrow. Want me to pick you up from church to save you walking so you can see the two idjits sooner, I know you miss them”. He said emphasising miss in a teasing manor.

“Oh yeah soo much” You replied rolling your eyes. “But no, I’m good, I’m actually going out after for some coffee”.

“So, you and Lena finally meeting outside of church?”

“Nope”

“Wait so who are you meeting with then? A new boyfriend of yours? If so, I want to meet him first.”

“What? No, I’m not completely sure, just a group of us meeting up after church.”

“What do you mean you don’t know. Who asked you? That old woman that lives next to the church because if so, I wouldn’t go she will just talk everyone’s ear of about her cats”

“No, the Priest actually just to share ideas about the bible after.”

“Right well err have a good time?” He replied unsure

“Thanks Bobby I’m gonna head up now and sort everything out and go to bed”

“Don’t use up all my water, I’ll see you after your coffee, call me if you want a lift.”

“will do, night”

“Night kid.”

*Beep Beep* Your alarm read 8:30 Sunday. You go up and got showered and dressed. You opted for an outfit which made you look good but it was still simple and casual, whether you were trying a bit harder because you were seeing Crowley or because the boys were coming you wouldn’t say. You grabbed an easy snack and decided to take the scenic route as you had 30 minutes to get there and you didn’t want to wait around. You arrived exactly at 9:32 and waited a few minutes before walking in, no sign of Lena anywhere, strange. Your seats however remained empty, so you sat once again on the seconded row back. Just as you received a message.

Lena- Sorry my mums not feeling well so I’ve had to take my brother to football. Hope service is good.

(Y/N)- No problem, have fun at football.

You replied before muting your phone and sliding it away just as Crowley came out.

“Good Morning…………………………………Thank you all for coming. Bless you all and I shall see you next week.”

Looking up at the clock reading 10:30, everyone stood up and headed out the door, you however being unsure of where you were going for coffee waited at the end of the pew, letting other passed. You didn’t really focus on the topic at hand but hoped you could blag your way through the teachings of rich man and Lazarus. As everyone left Crowley once again was behind you smiling.

“(Y/N) how are you?”

“Hi, I’m good thank you, how are you doing?” you reply, once again you feel strangely flustered.

“Better now that’s over and we can go get coffee.”

“Oh yeah about that where are we meeting?”

“I was thinking the little café down 3 blocks over. Small and easy to find a table.”

“Mrs Wolowitz’s?”

“Yes, That’s it”

“I think I know the way; well you better go, and I’ll meet you guys there” You say about to head off.

“I’m sorry love, you must be mistaken I meant just the two of us. If that’s alright”

“Yeah no sorry that more the fine, I just assumed.” You stuttered out. You hadn’t meant to jump to a conclusion but that seemed more likely then just you two going out for coffee. Alone in a small café. Damn it (Y/N) stop thinking again.

“Do you want to follow me in my car? In case you get lost?”

“Oh um.” You awkwardly laughed. “I actually walk here so I’ll get it up on my phone”

“No, no don’t be stupid you’re going in my car.”

“I wouldn’t want to intrude”

“No come on let’s go.”

The car ride was short and pretty much silent but not awkward. You were nervous but also happy you weren’t going to be stuck with a bunch of old Christians arguing about meanings. Before you got out the car, he took his clerical collar of leaving him in a normal black shirt. You got out, got a table and ordered your drinks, and reluctantly allowed Crowley to pay.

“So, Y/N how did you find todays service?” Crowley asked looking straight at you for an answer.

“Oh um, it was good” you replied suddenly feeling nervous and unsure of how to answer. You were sat in a café, with an attractive Pastor whose stare seemed to go straight through you.

“Anything to add? Any views on the passage?” Crowley said seeming slightly distracted.

“Not really no. Sorry maybe you start an idea and I’ll add?”

“I don’t really have any either, well to be honest with you I would rather get to know you then your views on the bible.”

“Me?” you smiled, this just got better now it’s apparent you probably aren’t going to be sat discussing the bible over the next half hour or so.

“Yes you” he replied a small smile resting on his lips.

“Well what do you want to know?” you didn’t really know what sort of thing to tell him so thought it best to just ask.

“Well how about we play a game?”

“A game?”

“Yes, a game, you know an activity one engages in for fun?” his smile turning slightly into a smirk.

“Oh, thanks I didn’t know what a game was, what sort of game?”

“I ask a question and you ask one back?” he paused “if you would like, if you wanted to sit around and talk about bibles, we could ask biblical ones”

“No normal questions are fine; you can start since I don’t know what games are” you say sarcastically.

Just then the waiter came and delivered your drinks, nodding his head slightly at your companion before he left. You took a sip of your drink as Crowley moved on; this wasn’t what you though this evening would be but it’s definitely an improvement.

“If you could go anywhere in the world where would you go?”

“(Y/A) {your answer}”

“Why?”

“It just seems perfect. I could see myself walking around and just admiring everything there you know?”

“Well hopefully one day you’ll go.” Crowley took a sip of his steaming drink and returned to looking at you. Really looking at you, it was weird, like he was genuinely interested in what you were saying. “I’ve been a few times and I must say the {landmark} is beautiful to visit.”

“One day I will see it, anyway you seem like you’ve been to loads of places where have you been?”

“Pretty much everywhere, I do enjoy travelling.”

“wow, I wish” you sigh out.

“Do you travel?”

“Not really, when I was younger me and my parents would move around America but that stopped a while ago.”

“Oh, how come?”

“They died so I moved in with my godfather and haven’t left town since, I know if he could we would go but he needs to stay here for work and everything and now I’m blabbing on again sorry.” You said it more as a fact mentally ready for the normal oh I’m sorry and what happened and are you okay to come.

“No don’t apologise I’m interested and I’m sorry to hear about them but your godfather sounds like a good man, and maybe one day you can travel again, maybe even the world, what do you plan on being in the future?”

“Definitely the plan, and I’m not sure yet. What about you have you always dreamed of being a pastor?”

“No, definitely not. I’m only a substitute pastor anyway if there’s such a thing.”

“what do you do then when you’re not?”

“I guess you could say I’m a businessman, I mainly make deals and such.”

“oh, is that why you always travel?” You say looking down at your drink and sipping.

“Exactly why my job requires a lot of popping to places. Now if you will humour me, I’m curious, you go to church but don’t seem completely religious, is that so?”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t mean to offend you, but I notice you zoning out during teaching and you just seem… I don’t know how to put it.”

“Well if I’m honest I’m not sure about it really. The whole believing in God thing. I mean I’m sure he’s there, but I don’t think there’s much he can do.”

“So why go?”

“Well my mum used to always take me and well it makes me feel closer to her, I’m sorry if that offends you.”

“Not at all, not at all” he said a slight smirk on his face again.

This was weird, not in a bad way but weird. As the time passed, he started to become even less like a pastor and more like a friend. You continued sharing random stories finding out how he grew up in Scotland and all about his random like and dislikes. He was a nice guy and you no longer felt nervous. Time went by and you both ordered another drink. Now your cups were sitting empty and you were discussing what the best era would be to live through, when your phone beeps.

12:51

Bobby: Hey, hows the discussions going, what time do you think your going to leave I dont know if I can deal with them alone any longer and theyve only been here 3 hours as it is.

You: oh, sorry I didn’t realise the time, um ill finish my drink and leave soon. Tell them I say hi.

You slid your phone into you pocket and looked back up at Crowley. Wow you had been sat talking for over two hours.

“Everything okay?” he asked

“Yeah everything is fine just didn’t realise the time. Sorry I’m going to have to go in a minuet I have guests over and completely forgot.”

“No problem, would you like a lift back?”

“I can walk it’s fine.”

“Please at least let me drop you of at the church, I need to pick up some things there anyway.”

“Okay.”

With that the two of you got back into his car and arrived back at the church both getting out and standing in the completely deserted parking lot.

“Thank you for the lift, and the drinks.” You smiled checking you had everything and looking up at him.

“No problem I had a good time, and maybe if you would like I could get your number and we could do it again sometime, get to know each other a bit more, maybe over some food.”

If you didn’t know any better it would sound like a date offer, in fact part of you wishes it had been but pastors don’t date, do they?

“Yeah sounds good today was fun.” You grab your phone pulling up your number.

“I’m sorry that may not have been clear enough” he said looking at your phone and entering your number into his. “I was referring to going out on a date.”

“But you’re a priest?” you blurt out before thinking. Mentally slapping your head.

“A substitute priest love, and like you I don’t hold religion too close to my heart” he said chuckling and putting his phone away.

“Well in that case that sounds great. I better start heading back but text me.”

“I will, safe walk home, if you’re sure you don’t want a lift.”

“I’m sure, goodbye Crowley”

“Goodbye Y/N”

And with that you left. What just happened?

*Times Skip Home*

You walk through the door into the lounge greeted with the boys and bobby drinking beers and talking, coming to a halt when you walked in.

“Y/N, hey how have you been” Sam asks looking up at you smiling. Before you could answer Dean butted it.

“Y/N Bobby here tells us you’ve been out talking about the bible, please tell me you haven’t it’s like half one.”

“Nice to see you to Dean, and no I haven’t I met with a friend. I’m great thank you Sam, how are you?” you reply going to sit down before realising a pair of legs in the way. “Deans move your legs”

Reluctantly he swung them over the coffee table allowing you to sit down.

“Good thank you” you’re not sure if Sam would have continued but bobby spoke up.

“A friend? You said you were meeting with a group of you, lying, now are we?”

“what? No, I just got a bit confused we were going to talk about the service but we got distracted. But what’s more important is what you two have been up to.” You reply casually leaving out the fact you had spent the last two hours with a male and had half planned a date.

“No, what’s more important is you are 18. And we have something for you.” Sam said poking his head around Dean.

“Sammy’s right Dean said pulling something out his duffle bag. It was neatly wrapped and slightly battered around the edges. Sam definitely wrapped it.

“Guys you shouldn’t have.” You said unwrapping it. At first you saw a leather-bound book. It was bound with a rope wrapped around and decorated with a light house on the front.

“Open it up (Y/N/N)” Sam said.

Unwinding the rope, you opened it up to find postcards and pictures from the boys, all in Sam’s writing.

“We, well I thought you could have a journal to note down anything you want its always good to have one. The postcards and stuff are from each of the places me and Dean have been. We knew you wanted to go, and you always want to here stories so I thought it would be a good way to make it seem like you were there.”

“Sam it perfect thank you so much.” You stood up and hugged him before taking a seat back down noticing Dean had a scruffier package in his hand.

Accepting it and opening it Dean began.

“I’m not as thoughtful as Sam but I saw this, and thought would like it.”

It was a rope necklace with a stone on the end. Under the stone was a small piece of card with a handwritten message explaining the stones properties of protection and healing. You read it and put it on twiddling the stone in your fingers (You can change stone to your liking).

“It’s beautiful Dean thank you very much” you say leaning over to hug him.

“I’m glad” he says pulling back smiling.

The evening goes on, you order food and joke with each other, Bobby leaving to go to bed and the three of you falling asleep sprawled out on the couch and armchair around 11pm

Wow that was long and mainly build up, but don’t worry romance will be in the next one. I hope you enjoyed this though, thanks for reading.

#crowley #Crowley Supernatural #crowley x reader #crowley x you #crowley x y/n #y/n #supernatural #supernatural x reader #xreader

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jawabear · 5 years ago

Text

Stay (Elliot Alderson x Reader)

Not my GIF

A/N: So, here is my Elliot fic. You don’t necessarily have to have watched Mr Robot to read this because I didn’t add any other characters or specifics into it. But I hope you enjoy reading it. Sorry for any mistakes. Stay safe.

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Warnings: mentions of death, fire, sad Elliot but what else is new, a whole load of angst

Summary: Elliot doesn’t know what is real anymore...

What a way to find out.

Elliot was never one to really watch the news on tv. He didn’t like to watch tv in general but something had stirred him to turn it on. He wished he hadn’t.

“-A large fire broke out, the cause is yet unknown. Thankfully, no one has been reported dead. The building has been cleared of people while the fire department tries to contain it so it doesn’t spread to surrounding buildings. It is unclear how many have been injured but there have been reported of at least 17 casualties...”

The rest of the report seemed to blur in his ear, the only thing that was in focus was the image of the familiar building that had been engulfed in flames.

No no no. This can’t be happening.

He fumbled to grab his phone, sliding quickly through his contacts to her name and slamming his finger down on it. The phone rang. And it rang and it rang. Each dull beep seemed to drag longer and longer. He tried again. His vision becoming blurry as did each dull beep. Everything was clouding in his mind.

No. She’s...she can’t be. She’s fine. She’s...she's fine.

But there was a part of him that knew she wasn’t. It was that same part that had told him to switch the tv on. He knew. She was one of those 17 listed casualties. She was a fucking number to them. As she would’ve been if she had died. Just a number. A statistic for news reported to tell everyone about. No one cared about who she was. She was a number, one less contribution to society.

But to him she was everything. What was the point of even being alive if he didn’t have her to live with? She wasn’t just a number. She was a person. She was his person. His life. His love.

He didn’t even bother to turn off the tv. He had to find her. He had to know she was alive. He paid no attention to the way people stared at him as he sprinted to the subway. He didn’t care about them. They were all numbers the same as she was said to be. No one cared about them so why should he? Why should he give a shit about why they were staring at him? He cared about one person, and she needed him.

Elliot didn’t quite know how exactly he ended up at the hospital so quickly. He remembered waiting for his train and then suddenly he was outside the hospital doors. He had obviously got there the same time as the victims from the fire.

New York traffic. Fuck you.

But he counted less than 17, only 13. Perhaps some had gotten in sooner. He ran into the hospital, he could hear beeping left and right, the panicked voices of doctors and nurses as they tried to give quick examinations of each patient who was wheeled in. He could hear the unmistakable moans and scream of pain. Clearly, severe injuries had been sustained. But the news wouldn’t report on that. No. All they would talk about is how much money it would cost to rebuild the apartment complex. That’s all it was about. Money. Not the pain that these people felt. The scars both mentally and physically they would keep forever.

More money though. They would have to pay to have those scars fixed. Pay to talk to someone who doesn’t want to listen to their problems. Someone who will just repeat their words back and make it seem like they are making a difference. All for a paycheck at the end of the week.

Elliot wouldn’t do that. He knew what it was like to have mental scars. He had enough of them. And she would stay up with him while he spoke to her about it. And she would kiss him, touch him, listen to him. She would do anything he needed her to do. And he was prepared to do the same for her.

He made his way to the front desk where a receptionist sat. She didn’t look all that kind. She looked angry. Probably because she now had to work over time in calling all the patients’ emergency contacts to inform them that someone they know was in a fire accident.

“Excuse me,” Elliot said quickly. She glared at him, he didn’t shy away though, he had more important things to worry about then the harsh stare of a receptionist “My g-“ he stopped himself from breaking down into tears “my girlfriend...she was...she was in the fire. Is she okay? Where is she? I need to see her”

“Name?” She asked in an almost bored tone.

People are screaming in pain, they’ve just been through horrific trauma and that’s how you talk to someone who’s clearly in a state of panic? They could be dying and all you’re worried about it not getting home earlier enough to watch reruns of the same shitty shows just to get you through the week.

“Name?” She asked again. Clearly Elliot had blanked a little.

“(Y-Y/N). (Y/N) (L/N)” He said clearly. He was choking back the anger that swarmed his body, he wasn’t going to make a scene, not in a place like this.

He heard the clicking of keys as she typed her name into the system, then cross-referencing the name on a pad of paper with scribbled letters, which he guessed were names, on it.

“You’ll have to take a seat and wait” she sighed.

“Wh-What?”

“A seat? Take one. We have to make sure everyone is secure before we allow visitors. Someone will be with you shortly”

Shortly. That’ll be the day.

Elliot gulped and nodded and went to take a seat in the corner of the waiting room. Whilst he waited, more and more people came bounding into the hospital, clearly they had heard the news. They cared for their loved ones as much as Elliot cared for her. And they were all told the same thing. To take a seat and wait.

He could hear the soft cries from mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, girlfriends, wives, husbands, boyfriends, and damn kids were sitting there waiting. But Elliot didn’t cry. He felt he should’ve. He must’ve looked strange. Sat in the corner of a hospital waiting room with a bunch of grieving people and he showed no inch of emotion.

Instead, he pulled out his phone. He opened his photos, he didn’t have all that many, the majority he did have she had taken herself, once she had sent to him or when she had taken his phone just to take pictures with. He clicked on the most recent one. Of course, it was of her. She had sent it to him that morning. Her outfit for the day. It was cute. The colder weather was starting to creep in so she had wrapped up warm. She wore black leggings with brown ankle boots. A long brown coat and probably a hoodie under that. And she wore a scarf, the one he had bought her for her birthday a few years ago. It was white with black lines. She adored it.

He couldn’t tell her how much he loved it. He didn’t have the words. She looked amazing in anything. All he could say was ‘you look nice’. Now, he would have laughed at the reply.

You look nice. That’s it? That’s what you’re leaving her with?

The guilt started to fill his mind. Forming a lump in the back of his throat that he desperately tried to swallow down. He hovered his thumb over her face, wanting desperately to stroke her cheek again, to see her smile as he did.

It had to have been at least two hours until names of victims started to be called. One by one, families were taken to their loved ones. And Elliot waited on. Each name only filled him with more and more dread and anxiety.

The first one there, and the last one called.

He jumped up when her name was called, quickly following after the doctor who led him to her bed. He thanked him with a nod and the doctor left them alone.

Elliot hated the beeping that came from the heart monitor she was attached to. He hated seeing all the wires that were stuck into her precious body. What monster would want to stab into her soft skin like that?

“E-Elliot?” She stuttered as she turned her head to face him. He was quickly at her side, taking her shaking hand in his which were just as shaky, but he guessed for a different reason.

“I’m here” he assured her quietly with a nod “I’m here (Y/N)”

“I’m so glad you’re here” her voice was hoarse and weak, she had probably inhaled a lot of smoke back there. He wasn’t surprised. He noticed how her eyes were red and her face had black marks of soot on it, dirtying her beautiful face.

“Me too (Y/N). But just rest, okay?” He told her softly as he sat in the chair beside her bed “save your energy”

“You’ll stay?” She asked him.

“Yeah” he nodded “of course, I’m not ever leaving you”

“Don’t cry” he hadn’t realised he was crying. How long had he been crying for? He quickly wiped away his tears “talk to me Elliot”

He didn’t know what she wanted him to say. Was she just looking for a reason to stay awake? Did she want him to talk her to sleep? Or did she want him to tell her what he was thinking? How scared he felt wondering if she would make it or not.

“I love you” he settled with, his voice becoming shaky as the tears now seemed to fall in their own accord no matter how many times he told them to stop. “You’re my everything. I don’t...I don’t know what I’d do without you”

“You won’t ever be without me, my love” she smiled gently at him “no matter what, I’ll always be with you, for as long as you need me”

“I’ll always need you. I can’t live without you. But you need your sleep. Rest. I’ll be right here, I promise” he pressed a long kiss to her hand.

“I love you Elliot, you made my life a happier place, you’ve made me a happier person. I’m so grateful to have known you”

“I love you too, (Y/N). More than I love anything” it wasn’t all that much longer until she had fallen asleep. His eyes felt heavy but he didn’t want to give in. He had to be awake for her. What if she needed something and he was too busy sleeping to help her? What if something went wrong? What if someone came in and he wasn’t able to protect her?

Regretfully, he had been taken by the sweet lure of sleep. His hand was still attached to hers, he couldn’t let her go, he wouldn’t let her go. He was going to hold her hand for every second of his life. He wasn’t never going to allow her to slip away from him.

But she did.

The beeping had stopped it’s annoying pattern, and had changed into one continuous beep. He lifted his head and saw the flat green line. He panicked as he slammed his hand against the assistance button over and over again, desperately saying her name while shaking her, trying to get her to wake up. But she didn’t.

And when the nurses and doctors came rushing into the room, they confirmed the worst.

She was gone.

The next few days, he didn’t have much memory of it. He remembers crying, a lot. He was in and out of consciousness a lot. He didn’t go to work. He couldn’t even get out of bed. He didn’t eat anything, he didn’t drink anything. He was glad he wasn’t the one who had to tell her parents the news, they came to visit him. He felt so incredibly selfish, that he was there in her final moments and her own parents weren’t. He apologised to them and they didn’t accept, they said he had nothing to be sorry for.

“She wasn’t alone, that’s all that matters. You made sure someone was there for her right until the end” her mother had told him. “All we can do is thank you for loving our little girl as much as you did”

He did love her. So much. And her last words to him were telling him how much she loved him. And he said how much he loved her.

Her funeral was the day after. It was a Saturday. It was rather sunny considering it was November. It wasn’t hot by any means, but it wasn’t raining or cloudy. It was...kind of perfect. He knew she would love it. She was more fond of the cold than the hot, that’s something they had in common.

Elliot didn’t have the strength to stay for long. He knew he should’ve but he just couldn’t. How could he? His source of his strength was lying dead in the ground. He didn’t want to stay there any longer.

Sleeping didn’t come naturally to him after that, not that it ever did in the first place. His anxieties only got worse. The little sleep he did get was not worth it. All it was was a nightmare, one continuous nightmare from which he could not escape.

Elliot didn’t know what had stirred him from his sleep this time. Once again, he had been drifting in and out of consciousness. Maybe it was his anxiety again, maybe it was his body finally starting to protect him from the hellish realm of his brain. But he didn’t hold out much hope for the latter to be true. His room felt cold. His windows were frosted. He would breath and he would see it cloud in front of him before disappearing. But he didn’t feel cold. He wasn’t wearing much, all he was wearing was a pair of boxers, only his bottom half being covered by his semi-thick blanket. And there was a strange atmosphere in his room.

He wasn’t alone, he could feel someone else was there, but he didn’t know who. There was a greyish-blue hue in his room, like the streetlights that were usually a muted orange had changed colour to fit with the cold weather of winter. He kind of liked it. It was a calming colour to him, not like the orange that signified happiness in his mind when there was none. This greyish-blue was a neutral colour and it suited him well.

But he still had no answers as to why he had woken up, and why he was in this strange reality of his room. It was his room, yes, but everything seemed off. It seemed different. He wanted to know where he was.

“Elliot?” Came an echoed voice from the foot of his bed. It was mixed, a combination of so many different voices from his friends or family or his enemies, he couldn’t pinpoint exactly who it was, and they were blurry in front of him. He blinked and rubbed at his eyes to clear his vision but it didn’t work, he would have to wait.

His brain was trying to figure out who to send to him. Which person from his life was he to be presented with? Or tortured with? He watched as the shape of a person morphed around, he could vaguely work out the shape of a few before they changed into someone else.

And the person slowly began to form.

“Elliot?” They said again. This time, their voice was clearer, he could pick out who it was. His brain had been cruel to him tonight. But he was blinded by his feelings to realise it was all a trick.

“(Y/N)...” he breathed.

There she stood. Her soft hair hanging loosely from her head, her eyes big, bright and (E/C). She wasn’t wearing much, it looked like she only wore a pair of panties and one of his dark grey shirts. She always had a thing for wearing his clothes, but he didn’t mind, it would smell like her, bringing him peace if ever he wore it again.

“You must be cold” he whispered to her. His body was stuck in place. He wanted to reach out and grab her, pull her into bed with him and hold her against him forever, but he couldn’t move. But luckily she moved to him instead.

“So must you” she crawled onto his bed, practically sitting on his lap, her warm hands coming to rest on his bare arms, rubbing up and down slowly to warm him. He noticed her smiled softly and her eyes met his “You’re warm” she commented quietly “you’re always warm”

“(Y/N)” He choked out again. She shushed him softly and lifted her hand to carefully brush one of his dark curls from his forehead. Her hand then dropped to his cheek, she ran her thumb over it lightly. He leaned into her touch, desperately wanting to close his eyes to just enjoy the feeling again but he didn’t dare do that, if he closed his eyes, there was a chance she would disappear forever.

“You’re so beautiful, Elliot” she whispered as her eyes scanned over his face, his eyes were glued to hers though. He didn’t want to miss a single opportunity to stare into them like he used to. “You haven’t changed at all. I can still see that look of fear and uncertainty in your eyes” she told him, her eyes meeting his again. “What are you afraid of, my love?”

My love.

Those words burned into his brain as she said them. His throat tightened, like he was being strangled, and his heart clenched in his chest. All knowledge of words had disappeared from his mind, the only ones remaining were those two words she had said.

“Are you scared of the world?” She asked him. He opened his mouth to try to formulate some sort of sentence but nothing came out, not even a sound. It was as if he had been completely silenced, his ability to speak had been ripped from him. “Are you scared of people? Of society? Of how they see you, what they think about you?” Again, he could say nothing. His body was locking up, shutting down almost. He couldn’t even shake his head ‘no’ as an answer to her questions. “Are you scared of...the voices in your head?” She rested her hands either side of his head, he was still frozen. But he managed to gulp and that was enough of an answer for her. “You don’t need to be scared of them, Elliot” she told him “they won’t hurt you. I won’t let them”

“But-“ he stopped himself suddenly, trying to come to terms with the fact he was now allowed to speak again “you’re not even here...” he muttered sadly.

“I’ve never left you, Elliot” she assured him “I’ve always been in here” she brought her forehead down to rest on his. He let out a shaky breath at the contact, he felt like he was connecting with her or something. Like all their memories were being channeled into his mind, trying to push out all the negative emotions in there.

“How do I...how do I know I can believe you?” He questioned slowly. He didn’t want to hurt her, but he also needed to know that she wasn’t going to hurt him.

“Do you trust me?” She asked him. He managed a nod “then believe my words. I would never do anything to hurt you” she shifted on his lap and his hands quickly flew to her hips thinking she was going to leave him, he wasn’t ready for that.

“Don’t go” he begged quietly “please...”

“I’m not going anywhere” she leaned forwards and pressed her lips to his, finally, in a gentle kiss. It re-started that fire that had been out for so long within him. He had greatly missed the feeling of that love inside him, the feeling that her lips gave him. “I love you, Elliot”

“I’ve...I’ve always loved you” He scrunched up his nose and looked down, he could feel the tears welling up in his eyes “I let you down...I wasn’t...I should’ve tried harder to help you...save you. I’m so sorry...”

She lifted his chin and wiped away the tears that had rolled down his cheeks “it’s okay, my love” she smiled “you could never let me down. You are the greatest thing to ever happen to me. You don’t ever need to say that you are sorry to me” his arms slipped around her and he buried his head into her neck and cried against her. He hadn’t meant to, he wanted to stay composed, but he couldn’t hold it in, the weight was becoming too much to bear. He had to let it all out. And he did. He cried, and he cried, until what felt like he couldn’t cry anymore.

He fell back onto the bed, bringing her with him, but she didn’t try and leave, if anything, she pulled him closer. Her fingers were gliding through his soft hair, soothing him, calming him down from his crying. “I’ve been so alone...” he whimpered “so alone...”

“I know” she whispered with a nod “I know you have, my love. But you don’t have to be alone anymore. I’m here, and I’m not leaving you”

“Please” he begged again, louder this time “please don’t ever leave me, I don’t want to live without you anymore”

Why did you have to be so cruel?

Apparently he had fallen asleep again. But something felt odd when he was woken up again by his mind. Something he couldn’t quite place. Something that felt more...real.

Elliot felt disheartened as he stared up at his ceiling. He was lonely. He was cold. He hated himself, he hated his brain for projections such a cruel and horrible image into his mind while he slept. He hated that he felt happiness with it, with the dream of her.

But it was so real. He could feel the warmth of her hands on his face. He could hear the softness of her voice. He could see the stars in her eyes. She was really there.

But she wasn’t there at all. It was all in his mind and he hated it. He wanted to hold her again, even if it was just for a moment, he needed to hold her again.

“Elliot?” He heard her voice again. It was clear, clearer than it had been in his dream. He sat up and looked to the foot of his bed where she was standing. He was even more confused now than he had been in his dream. Was he still dreaming? Or was he awake? Or maybe he had died...

“Elliot,” she began as she came and sat beside him on the bed. He just stared at her, he didn’t know whether to believe his eyes or not. His mind could still be playing tricks on him. “Are you okay? You were crying in your sleep” she said softly as she lifted her hand to rest against his forehead, he was a normal temperature.

“Y-You...b-but...” he struggled with words again. He didn’t know what to say. He was just so confused as to what the hell was happening.

“What is it?” She asked him quietly, now turning her body to face him completely. She looked extremely concerned and worried for him. And he just looked confused.

“You’re-You’re Okay?” He breathed in disbelief.

She nodded, now it was her turn to be confused “yes, I’m okay” she whispered.

“You’re real?”

“Elliot, what’s going on?” She asked him “talk to me”

“I-I-“ he stuttered around for a second, trying to fathom a response for her without sounding crazy. But by now, she must’ve been used to crazy. Being Elliot’s girlfriend meant she had to be used to it, he was pretty used to it, “you...it was so real...you died...th-there was a fire...and-and the hospital...I feel asleep and you died...and-and I-I should’ve tried harder to save you. I failed you. But...y-you came back in a dream, and you t-told me I would never be alone again...but...I thought that was the dream. You were dead...for real...that was...was that all fake too?” He asked her. She felt her eyes water as she looked into his eyes, she brought her hands to rest on his cheeks.

“Yes,” she nodded “none of that is real. I’m here, I’m okay, I’m alive”

“H-How can I be sure?”

“Do you trust me?” He drew in a sharp breath as she said this. He nodded slowly and gulped “then trust my words”

“That’s what you said in my dream” he told her.

“Did you believe me then?”

“Yes”

“Then believe me now, my love. This is happening, this is real. We are here in the world at this time together. And I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else but here”

He grabbed her wrist in his hand as he leaned into her touch “stay with me”

“Of course” she smiled before leaning in to press a kiss to his quivering lips.

Masterlist

21/07/20

#elliot alderson #elliot alderson x reader #elliot alderson fanfic #Mr Robot #angst #fluff #rami malek #fanfic

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practicingmedicine · 4 years ago

Text

Practicing Medicine: Chapter Seven

(+)7

2075 ROBCO(R)

LOADER V1. 1

EXEC VERSION 41.10

32K RAM SYSTEM

14302 BYTES FREE

HOLLOWTAPE LOADED: "THE-WORST-THING-EVER"

INITIALISING….

SUCCESS!

STATUS

Battery Level: 42%

Wireless Signal: (?)

Operating Temperature: 92F

HEALTH

BP: 170/130

SPO2: 100%

Temp: 99.5F RR: 28

HR: 185

TIME

Day: 24 SEP. 2279

Time: 16:10

CLIMATE

Current Temperature: 76 F

Atmospheric Pressure: 750 mm

Background Radiation: 1.321 RAD

WARNING: Dangerous wasteland creature in range!

Yeah, no shit, Sherlock! Why don't you tell me my chance of survival as a percentage too!

I'd been tipping back in my chair when the wall exploded, so now I was sitting on my ass in a state of total mental shock, slowly butt-scooting my way backwards. The NCR soldier who I'd been sitting beside popped up, knocking his stool over in the process.

"Ayuda!" he shouted. He was shooting his rifle, but it wasn't making any noise. He screamed something about shit ammo and started yanking on the charging bolt.

Amongst the wreckage, Tandi tried to stand back up. How she survived an impact like that was beyond me, but I wasn't about to point that out. She turned her head to look at Gram.

"Gram, get the-" she started. Before she could finish, the big white reptile threw itself directly at her, knocking over the entire table and crushing Cook and Jas as Tandi rolled out of the way, trailing pink insulation foam behind her. Gram sprinted past me and started clambering up the stairs to the second floor, leaving poor Chomps sitting in stunned silence.

The deathclaw reared around to face Tandi, who had drawn a six-gun from her hip.

"Fuck off, cyka!" shouted Tandi, and emptied it directly into his face, shattering his jaw and blasting off his nose.

The gunshots, the shrieks of the injured beast, the dust that was gathering in the air... it was all so overwhelming! I'd never been so close to anything so dangerous, and my whole body was screaming at me to run for my life, but I just couldn't send the signals to my muscles. I couldn't move, couldn't shout, couldn't breath...

The beast lunged at Tandi again, and she caught him by his arm and snapped it against her leg, then grabbed onto his broken jaw and forced it into the back of his throat. He immediately swung his other hand at her, impaling her through her forearm and thigh. He probably would have disemboweled her in the next motion, but was interrupted by a sudden hail of gunfire.

My eardrums pounded as the soldier fired shot after shot from his now-functional rifle, striking the deathclaw all across it's back and arms, poking lots of inconsequential little holes in the thing. By the end of the magazine, I couldn't hear anything but a loud ringing, so I didn't even get to hear the soldier's scream as the Deathclaw reeled around and folded him against the wall, taking all the life out of his body and sending him tumbling to the ground in a way that made it clear that he'd not be getting back up. The beast stalked over to him...

And in Came chomps like a goddamn pro wrestler, swinging a stool over his head like a sledgehammer. The beast didn't even bother to turn around as it raked Chomps across his entire upper body with its good claw. I could see the blood running down his face as Chomps stumbled backwards into the fallen table and fell onto his back, trying to figure out which of his massive wounds to clutch as he writhed about with his legs in the air.

Then, the thing turned it's whole upper body to face me. Our eyes connected.

Have you ever been so scared that you choked on your own spit? Because, as the beast stared at me with its one remaining eye, I distinctly remember gagging so hard that I started choking on my own spit.

It started walking towards me- a big, ghost-white beast, stained all over with its own blood, all its parts hanging loose- and I involuntarily let out a mix between a wet cough and a squeal. More logic-defying noises escaped my mouth as I scrambled for the stairs, trying and failing to stand up in the process. But it wasn't me who the deathclaw was keying in on now- It was Gram, standing behind me on the stairwell with a laser gun.

"Cover your ears, Boy!" He shouted over the ringing, and I followed his advice. I pressed my hands against my ears and shut my eyes.

Next thing I felt was heat on my skin- wasn't no light, but there was heat alright! Heat and a noise like a can of sarsaparilla taking a fifty cal right in the center! Drops of hot liquid splashed across my skin.

Next thing that hit were the smells. Burning fat, a delicious dinner and clouds of gunpowder, pools of coagulating blood and bodily fluids; The sounds- screaming, shouting, sobbing, and there was that damn ringing in my ears! My head hurt too, and my skin was all hot and prickly. I swear I could feel my chest caving in, I was breathing so hard…

"Isaac! Isaac, get moving, people are dying! ISAAC!"

Someone hit me in the back of the head, so I turned around and bit them as hard as I could. I could taste blood so vividly, as they pulled their hand back, putting them off balance. I grabbed the wrinkled, bleeding hand and yanked it forward, pulling its owner down the stairs and onto the floor. Someone walked up to me and tried to say something to me so I started screaming as loud and hard as I could, until they backed away.

Then it struck me- the deathclaw was dead. It's head had been hollowed out, pieces scattered all over the room. No one was even paying attention to me as I beat the ever living shit out of Gram, who had probably just saved my life. They all had their own problems.

I was hyperventilating, I realized, and it was making my vision go dark around the edges. I tried to regulate my breathing as I scanned the room, wondering what the hell I was supposed to do first. But it was hard- so, so hard with all the ringing, and the prickly hot feeling on my skin and the static in my head!

Where to start? I started compiling a mental list of all the problems that I had to fix, or "doing triage," as my father would have said. In my head, it looked something like this:

I'd hurt Gram after he hit me in the back of the head, but he was already getting back up.

Cook was lying underneath a table, wheezing and trying to get it off her chest- she was probably having trouble breathing, but Jas was helping her at the moment, and she was making noise so it couldn't be that bad.

The NCR soldier was in a bad way, probably got his back broke. I couldn't tell if the blood all over his back was his or the deathclaws, which warranted a closer look, but there was still air going through his body so I'd put him on the back burner for now.

That left Tandi and Chomps, the two with the nastiest wounds. If the claw had hit his throat, Chomps would be dead very soon, if he wasn't dead already. I decided to deal with him first. Ignoring Gram's muttered insults, I stalked across the room and fell down on one knee beside the old man. There was a frightening amount of blood pooling around his head, and my heart rate picked up when I dragged him on his side and gave him a quick once over.

Three parallel gashes- One deep wound across his stomach, one relatively shallow one across his upper chest and collarbone, and one across his forehead that was bleeding profusely but which had stopped at the skull. I saw no signs of life-threatening bleeding, though his intestines were poking out through the stomach wound. I motioned towards Gram.

"Gemme a wet towel." In spite of what I'd done to him, he didn't argue with me, disappearing into the kitchen without a word. I looked back at Chomps. I'd been an idiot and left my medical kit in the cart, so my emergency treatment was going to have to be improvised. I didn't like that, but I wasn't about to leave any of the people in the room to go get the kit. I'd have to make do for the moment.

First step would be to remove the clothes around the evisceration. How was I going to do that? I couldn't just pull off his overalls. I'd have to cut through them. What options did I have for cutting? My utility knife was in my medical pouch. But, when they'd set the table, there had been steak knives…

Find a steak knife, I told myself, and started scanning the floor. I could faintly hear the back door open as Gram headed outside to pump water on a towel, which I'd use to dress the evisceration. Steak knife, steak knife…

Amidst the debris, I found a fork and steak knife lying together, so I took both just in case I ended up needing the fork for something. After putting a quick gash in the pale, unfeeling strip of skin on my forearm to get a feel for the knife's cutting edge, I leaned back over Chomps and slid the knife against his blood-soaked denim. It took a bit of force, but once I had cut through the tough edge, it became a lot easier to run my knife through the worn material. I cut out a rough square of cloth all around his chest, and carefully peeled it off his sticky, bloody skin. Poor man was conscious, I noticed, but he wasn't saying nothing. Just watching.

"Don't try and move. Your guts weren't ripped, but they might be if you start squirming. No matter how much it hurts, you gotta stand still," I said, tearing off the loose strip of overalls and bunching it up into a makeshift rag for later. It wasn't sanitary, but it'd have to do.

Gram came back in shortly after, carrying several ragged towels soaked in water. I gave him a nod of acknowledgment and held my arms out for Gram to drop the towels into. Not stopping to check his trajectory, Gram tossed the load in my arms, and continued walking until he reached Tandi. He knelt down beside her.

"Toss me the pip boy!" He shouted. I was confused for a second, then remembered the medical profiles I'd created. Quick as I could, I logged off the pip-boy, and tossed it underhanded to Gram. I didn't wait to see if he caught it.

"Remember: Don't move," I said, laying the wet towel across Chomps's jutting intestines. He winced as the towel touched the wound, but he didn't squirm. Don't think there was much that could've made Chomps squirm.

"You're doing great!" I told him, securing the towel around the edges. I checked the rest of his wounds. His airway was swell, and the leaks in his forehead and chest weren't gonna kill him. Which means he was as stable as he was going to get, without a stimpack. "I'll come back to you soon. I need to check the soldier…"

"No, Fuck that guy! Tandi's been thrown through a goddamn wall!" shouted Gram, but it sounded quiet next to the ringing in my ears. I rubbed my temples. Jas had gotten the table off of Cook, and was doing what I guessed to be a misguided attempt at CPR on her, for some reason. Probably because she was complaining about breathing? First things first, I needed to put a stop to that

"Jas, does Cook have a pulse?" I asked, barely able to hear my own voice. Jas nodded.

"Yeah, but she says that she can't breathe, so I'm doing-"

"Stop doing that! CPR is for dead people!" Jas didn't complain no more, instead standing up and going to examine the NCR soldier. If Gram was telling the truth, I didn't have time to worry about how Jas was going to screw him up, so I ignored her and hurried over to Tandi. Surprisingly, she was still conscious. She gave me a weak middle finger as I sat down.

"Helmet off- stop moving it if she complains about her neck," I said. Gram complied immediately. Tandi didn't have anything to say as the helmet came off, revealing her sweaty, mutilated face. There were no new injuries there, though it was still as shocking as ever.

"Where's it hurt, Tandi? Is your back okay?" I asked. She looked up at me like I was stupid.

"No, I'm completely paralyzed. Dumb whore..." I rolled my eyes.

"Surely, I am as dumb as they come! But, the pip-boy says you've got internal bleeding, and it's still figuring out where. Where're you hurtin' at?" Tandi laughed a little.

"Internal? Then it's in the right place." I shook my head and inspected her pip-boy image. There were so many warnings that it was impossible to try to interpret them all. I suddenly really wished I could read, even just a little more.

"Tandi, this is life or death! Where did it-" Suddenly, the image on the screen changed. The pip boy beeped, and a blinking warning sign appeared dead in the center of her character's chest. The BP stat, I noticed, was down from the last measurement.

"Y'have no idea how often people say that. Anyways, he hit me-" she started. I began to pull off her coat. I elbowed Gram in the shoulder, and pointed at the stricken woman.

"Strip her down. Tandi, please help as much as you can!" She gave me a suspicious look.

"And what if I don't want you exploring all up in my nooks-and-crannies?"

"Tandi, something is very fucking wrong! Help me take the armor off!" She clutched her wounded leg and growled at me.

"...Aggghhh, Fine! But I'll kill you afterwards."

Gram worked on taking off the armor supporting her back, while I removed her dented chest-plate. Once I'd gotten that free, I took off her shirt, Gram removed her baggy jeans, and we got to work freeing her armor harnesses. When one of the clips got stuck, I picked up my steaknife from the ground and sliced through the whole strap. It was surprisingly easy to cut through, I guess for emergency situations like this. Once I got that off, Tandi was left in her sportswear. I removed her chest wrapping on account of some bruising in that area. Her knickers weren't covering nothing up, so I left those alone.

The full picture was distressing, real distressing. Amongst Tandi's considerable collection of old scars, there were several huge, rapidly swelling patches of yellow, purplish skin all over her body, the biggest of which was right over her heart. I pulled my stethoscope off my neck and plugged it into my ears- had em backwards, got them in the right way and then checked around for her heartbeat, and got back a faint, muffled noise. Combined with her wormlike neck veins and the fact that I couldn't even get a pulse on her femoral at this point, that made Beck's Triad. Father always told me I'd never be able to diagnose tamponade like that on a real clinical exam, but here were all three symptoms, sticking out like a compound fracture.

"Oh no," I breathed. I tried to compose myself, but panic was already overtaking my mind. Before I even spoke, I could hear my voice cracking. "Jas! Get- uh, break into the wagon out back, and grab the orange bag and the other one, the other emergency-looking one. Bring em back fast!" Jas looked at her fallen companion, who she had sat up against the wall, then at the door, then at me. Slowly, she stood up, walked away from the unconscious soldier, and exited out the back door, picking up speed as she went.

Preparing myself for what came next, I placed the cold knife against Tandi's bare, swollen chest, and started counting ribs. One, two, three, four, five... The tip came to a rest beneath her right breast.

"What are you doing?" She asked. I pressed the knife a bit harder, seeing how hard I'd need to press to cut her sweaty skin. Not very. A drop of blood seeped out from under the knife.

"There's blood gathering in the lining around your heart, Tandi. I gotta open your chest up to fix you." Tandi's eyes opened wide.

"What- NO!"

I felt her grab onto my wrist, but she was late; I'd already abandoned any doubts that might've been left in my head and punched my knife through her chest, right by her sternum. A primal scream filled my ears as I dragged the blade through the layers of skin and fat, all the way to her shoulder blade. I shoved my hand into her intercostal space.

"Spread her ribs and hold 'em," I grunted. Gram made a face.

"Oh, Christ..." Tandi continued to shriek in pain and squeeze my wrist as Gram spread the wound like a clam shell. I tried to wrap my fingers around her pulsating heart, but couldn't quite get at it. I pushed her lung aside.

"Stop it! Da idi ty, fuck you! Otvyazhis'!" Tandi cried, but I didn't stop. I couldn't. It had to be done, or her pericardium would fill up with blood and squeeze her heart til it stopped beating. I kept digging around as the blood coursed over my hands and arms; I was slick up to the elbows with it.

"Anyone got a flashlight?" Gram shook his head. I swore and spit on the ground. That was gonna make this next part a lot harder.

Tandi kept on hollering and thrashing as I tried in vain to get a grip on the pericardial sac without also grabbing the throbbing heart inside. My fingers were too slippery to pinch it, so I pulled the dinner fork out of my pocket and hoisted the sac up that way. It slipped off the fork a couple times before I could get it in a good position, but once I had it pulled taught, I didn't waste any time opening it up between the phrenic nerves- Tandi was dying quick. She looked like she'd been drained by a vampire, and her shrieks of pain had already quieted down to confused sobbing.

"Ah hell Isaac, I don't know how long I can hold this! Could you hurry up?" grunted Gram. I could see the muscles straining beneath his skin, bulging in his face and neck. His arms were quaking.

"Yeah, sure! Now help me turn her over…" I put my hands on Tandi's back and worked with Gram to move her on her side, so the blood could leak out of her cavity. The floor was covered in the stuff by now, and it had streaked and smeared where she'd been struggling. I tried to ignore it as I got down on my hands and knees and stared into her wound. "Great. I'm gonna peek down here again, try and figure out where it's-"

Before I'd even finished my sentence, a gout of bright red blood sprayed out the cut I'd made in the pericardium, all over my chest and face. It dripped down my glasses like some sort of cheesy horror-movie effect.

"Doc! Hey, Doc, I've got the stuff!" I looked over my shoulder to see Jas stumbling in through the back door, carrying both the stimpack bag and my medical bag in her arms. I motioned for her to set them down next to me. "Um, there's a few stimpacks here, which should I-"

"Fuck it! It don't matter!" Something like a laugh rattled through my chest as I snatched the syringe out of Jas's hand. Tandi's heart coughed out another gob of blood, but I'd already moved to the side, and soon my hand was in the clamshell wound again. My fingers clawed for the source of the blood.

"I'm hurting bad!" grunted Gram. I started probing with my stimpack.

"Well don't let go, use a- I don't know, use anything!" I was hardly paying much attention to Gram at this point. I could feel the blood coursing over my fingers as they brushed over some artery, can't say which one, and I figured pretty quickly where the rupture was. I jabbed the stimpack in.

And Missed.

I tried again, and missed. Which gave me that sinking feeling that you get in your stomach when you realize that you've not got much time, and your body just isn't the right machine for the task. Usually that came with a certain embarrassment, that telltale hotness of the skin, but not this time. This time, the hair on my arms stood up straight, and the sweat on my skin grew cold.

I looked over at Gram. His eyes were jammed shut, he'd bit through his upper lip- and his hands, shaking more than ever. My hands were shaking too. The animalistic energy that'd been carrying me through this had gone. For a moment, I was just a kid again, in over his head and scrambling for a way out.

But it was only a moment. Like a lumberjack throwing all his weight behind an axe, I took three more passionate stabs with the needle before piercing the artery. I had no hope of suturing it now, so I just hoped to high hell that pushing stimpack juice through the pipe and pinching the rupture shut with my nails would actually work. I'd made so many choices based on pure hope already, what was more on the pile?

The moment I pulled my hand out and discarded the empty stimpack, Gram grunted and collapsed on top of Tandi. He'd stopped holding the site open, but his fingers were still buried in the bleeding wound. His lungs rattled with each jagged breath.

"What- what should I do? Do you need help with her?" panted Jas, and I waved her away. I was panting too, panting and hot and covered in sweat and blood and god knows what else. I could feel my heart beating in every crevice of my aching body.

But was Tandi's heart still beating?

Her eyes were open and unreactive, her skin was pale and waxy. Seemed like she was breathing, but the hairs on my arms still stood up as I prodded around for a pulse near her groin; there was nothing at first, then a faint squirming beneath my fingertips, and then nothing again. The skin felt cool as glass. I put my hand on Gram's back.

"What's her- check the pip boy, what's her BP say?" Gram lifted his head up just slightly to look at the pip boy screen.

"Seventy six and fifty." There was a solemn silence. "Is that…?"

"That's good. Better, I mean.

I wiped some of the sweat off my brow again. It was pointless, seeing as how I probably deposited a bunch of blood when I did it, but I had to let out all that relief somehow. I hadn't even been able to get a femoral pulse when I'd checked last time, which meant that her pressure had been somewhere below seventy. A jump back up to seventy six was good news.

Of course, Tandi's troubles weren't over- her pericardium was slit, she still had herself a gaping hole in the chest, and the cavity was still full of blood in spite of my efforts. I grabbed my hand-suction pump from out of my bag and hooked up the reservoir, plunged in the tip, and got to work squeezing. An onlooker might have thought that I was still putting in my all, but at this point, my mind was elsewhere. I glanced over my shoulder.

"Jas, you wanna be helpful, right?" I asked. I didn't wait for a response. "Prepare the worker's quarters for all these patients. I want beds, I want chamber pots, whatever we can get. And when you're done with that, you and me are gonna haul these folks upstairs."

Jas might've said something to me after that, but I couldn't hear it over the fuzz in my head, the static of stress. I looked around the room one last time, and I don't think I have to tell you the specifics of what I saw; just that I could tell right then that this would be, without a doubt, the longest night of my life.

[+]

#fallout #fallout fanfic #fallout fanfiction #fallout fandom

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divineproject · 4 years ago

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Blind date

Characters: Shinso x reader

Summary: Mina has been setting up blind dates for you for the past couple of days. She has found no luck in finding the right person though. She is about to give up until she met someone who is perfect.

Sorry if it’s not the best I did most of the last bits when I was tired so if it’s not what you would expect sorry.

“Mina this is the last date it’s getting tiring.” I said hoping she would get the point. “Come on you don’t want to be single forever.” “ Actually that would be ok with me.” I said plainly. “Just one more date. Ok?” “ Fine, but if you do another one after this I will lose my head.” “ Yes ma’am!” I walked away and started to get lost in my thoughts. Who would it be this time? I was never the person to care about love. Plus being quiet isn’t really helpful either. I was just lucky that I found Mina or I would be in the back of the classroom being that one weird kid. Honestly though I would be the most normal out of the whole class.

I’m glad I found a group though even if there a bunch of weirdos. I snapped back into reality when I accidentally bumped into someone. I opened my eyes to see a purple haired boy in front of me. This wasn’t any person though it was Shinso. “Ugh watch where your going next time.” I could feel the annoyance in his voice. I would have answered if I could.

At the moment though I was at a lose for words. I quickly stood up snatched my books and ran away. My head felt like it was going to explode. The combination of no sleep, headaches, and Shinso was horrible. I can‘t stand him. In middle school I was really optimistic. That was my first mistake. When I met Shinso I was fascinated with his quirk. I would stay up some times going through situations in my head how Shinso would save the day. I never once thought of using him. That didn’t click for him though. I would follow him around all day at school. I looked up to him. I didn’t notice Shinso was getting frustrated. He was the type of person that didn’t trust people

Out of no where when I was following him to lunch asking questions about his quirk. He turned around grabbed my shoulders and said “ What do you want! Do you want to use me? Get off my back you nuisance. Your getting on my last nerve.” I was crushed it was like getting stabbed over and over. The pain was endless. He started to walk away. “Wait.” I called out to him. I was on the edge of tears gushing out. “ I just like you I don’t want to use you. “ He stopped only for a second after I said that. “ Waste your breath on someone who cares.” With that he turned the corner. Tears started coming out of my eyes.

The one person left that could be my hero thought I was just a nuisance. Deep down I knew that he didn’t mean what he said. I tossed the thought away knowing even if it was true I wasn't mentally strong enough to even look at his face. I started to avoid him wanting to cause no trouble to him. It felt as though it hurt him more. After a while I could feel hatred build up in me. It wasn’t fair it seemed as thought he forgot what he said. Living care free. He was my only ‘friend’. I got bullied most of the time for being too cheerful. I knew they had their own troubles but, it just added to my load. I sometimes would get bruised.

Luckily I didn’t have to explain to anyone how I got these. The bell rang indicating school was over. I still had a lingering feeling about Shinso. Do I still like him after all these years of hating him? I shake my head pushing that thought away. I wait for bakugo and Kirishima. I usually walk back to the dorms with them. I hear yelling and cussing from around the corner. “ Hey guys!” Trying to talk over bakugo‘s yelling. “ I’m not going to even ask why he’s mad. It’s probably just about Izu again.” “Yeah you guessed it.” kirishima said while rubbing his neck. I saw said bye to the both of them and went to get changed. After a while Mina showed up. It didn’t take long to put my blind fold on and step out of the car.

Once I was seated I took off my blind fold. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Mina exiting the place. I turned my eyes to my date at hand. I nearly choked on air. Across the table was Shinso! How was Mina even able to get him here? He‘s more of a stay home guy. “ Hey..” I said awkwardly. “ Sorry for running away from you.” “ I wouldn’t blame you after what I did.” he remembered! Shinso can we just make up. It seems silly to hold a grudge now.” “Ofcourse thats what I am here for and to tell you that i like you.” “ I guess we both feel the same way ” I chuckled feeling the breath i was holding in go out. We ordered food and left to hangout at my dorm. I went under the covers waiting for him to come. Once he got in I started to cuddle him. “Shinso I love you.” I said almost drifting off to sleep because of the warmth. “ I Iove you too kitten.” He kisses my fore head and we both drift to sleep.

#shinso x reader

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stillness-in-green · 5 years ago

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Spinaraki Week, Day 5: Free Day+

Post-canon, Shigaraki and Spinner fight--well, something like the good fight, anyway. For @codenamesazanka, whose endgame wish for Shigaraki can usually be summarized as, “Escapes punishment to go be a vigilante with Spinner somewhere.”

A drabble series using all the week’s prompts I didn’t hit otherwise, and a few blanks, so let’s just call it Free Day.

———– ———– ———– ———–

Shigaraki's grinning when he walks into the alley, an unmistakable sign that he's onto something.

"Got a new target?" Spinner climbs down long enough for Shigaraki to grab hold around his neck before scaling upwards again.

"Better. I picked up the trail on our old friend Tsang." Shigaraki's all lean muscle in a crisp black suit.

"That bastard finally slipped up? Ha!" A light switches on in one of the cheap apartments above them. Spinner crawls easily around a corner, changing directions. "What's our angle?"

"He'll be in town for the Grand Prix next month." Shigaraki chuckles darkly. "Game on."

———–

Spinner stir-fries pork minchee over their ancient stove, adding soy sauce and molasses and listening as Shigaraki, perched on the edge of their ratty sofa, types industriously on his laptop, explaining their new lead. The sound of New Oumun's nightlife drifts in through the window, a jangle of distant music and traffic wrapped in the hum of eight-hundred-thousand people living on an island thirty kilometers square.

Spinner slides the meal onto one big plate, snags two forks, and drops onto the floor between Shigaraki's knees, leaning back comfortably as Shigaraki steals a fork and leans over him to dig in.

———–

Spinner wakes to an empty bed and sighs, standing up and dragging himself over to the window. Unsurprisingly, Shigaraki's sitting on the tin awning below; he doesn't look over as Spinner eases down beside him. He stares out over the city, in the direction of the glittering casino towers but not really at them, expression blank and cool.

His bad hand trembles faintly, barely noticeable save that Spinner knows to look for it.

Shigaraki doesn't speak as Spinner closes his hands over Shigaraki's own, Shigaraki's deft, pale digits curled lightly between Spinner's claws.

He doesn't speak, but he leans closer.

———–

A tip for a successful vigilante career: people never bother hiding much from children. Spinner allows himself to be climbed on by four local brats, even the one with the purple ooze quirk, as Shigaraki carries on a discussion in near unintelligibly rapid Cantonese.

"Do the trick!" the youngest one demands, holding up a box she retrieved from who-knows where, a heavy padlock hanging from the front. Shigaraki rolls his eyes but obediently touches three fingers to the lock; a second later, a blue marble rests in his palm, the box lies open, and the kids are telling him everything.

———–

They get a check-in from Toga a week before the Prix. She chatters happily away on video-call, firing periodic barbs over her shoulder at an annoyed-looking Skeptic.

"So you guys have a new thing going down?"

"Yeah. That bastard from Hong Kong who tried that rice extortion racket last year."

"Hah! He deserves you two. Oh! Kurogiri says to say hello!"

"Does that detective know you've been visiting?" Shigaraki drawls. He doesn't even tense, Spinner marvels, as Toga peals laughter at the suggestion.

"Duh, no. I'll tell him you say hi too," she pronounces sagely, and Shigaraki doesn't argue.

———–

"Hey, Shigaraki! It's almost time; what's taking you?"

"'S gotta look right."

"You're gonna be in and out in minutes; you--blue?"

"Getting bored of black all the time."

"....Why do I have a hard time believing that."

"Believe what you want. But I thought you liked blue, Spinner."

"What are you--why are you grinning like that?"

"Haha."

"...This is about my old vest, isn't it?"

"It's fine. You even got Re-Destro on polka dots for a while."

"Look, you KNOW I had to--"

"Trendsetting for the whole army. So fashionable."

"I swear, I'm gonna--mmg."

"..."

"...Shigaraki..."

"..Heh. Save it for after."

———–

Shigaraki leaves the casino with a tail. Several tails, actually, and at least one of them has some experience, because he doesn't just watch Shigaraki or the street around him; he looks up, up and around, at the skies, the roofs of buildings, parking garages, all the usual spots.

A fire-user, a man with a maw full of jagged teeth and big moon-pale fish eyes, and the experienced one, whose quirk they haven't been able to figure out.

Spinner tucks up tighter beside a wheezing air conditioner unit as they pass below him.

In the distance, high-powered car engines scream.

———–

Third guy had a blindness-inducing quirk.

Had.

Now he has Spinner's machete driven into his neck, no vital signs, and Shigaraki writhes on the ground, growling through his agonized groaning. A fissure opens up in his neck as he claws at the cement, another across his temple and down the side of his face.

"No pulse on any of them!" Spinner says frantically, dropping down beside him.

"Haaah. We're too good at this, Spinner." Shigaraki grins horribly, wounds beginning to trickle blood. "S'okay. We've still got Tsang."

"But I thought we were gonna--"

"Yeah. You just gotta get me there."

———–

It's not as neat as they planned it, Tsang tossed into the path of a bunch of race cars still marbleized, then loosed with a snap.

Instead, they have to free him long enough for Shigaraki to off-load the blindness quirk and Spinner just bodily tosses him into the oncoming headlights. Messier, all around, and there are probably already blurry new pictures of them getting around social media.

But by the time they shake most of New Oumun's “heroes” and bribe or blackmail the rest, Shigaraki's wounds have closed up, he's back on his feet, and they make it home clean.

———–

Spinner gets Shigaraki into the shower with only minimal bullying; afterward, the two of them settle back on the window awning.

Shigaraki tucks himself between Spinner's legs and leans back against his chest, arranging his broad arms around his own shoulders with an air of sated possessiveness.

They watch the downtown spotlights of the district swing across the clouds in comfortable silence.

"There's probably gonna be some people calling us villains again," Spinner says at last.

Shigaraki hums in disinterest, eyes half-closed.

"League of Villains’ leader has nothing to say, huh?"

"He's on vacation. No comment."

Spinner chuckles and welcomes in the quiet.

———– ———– ———– ———–

Points of Note:

-New Oumun is Macau 200 years in the future. Here’s all the mental image you need. The Grand Prix is a famous street racing event that, by this point in time, probably includes some pretty wild allowances for quirk use.

-Tsang is from a Hong Kong crime family; pretty much all of Macau’s imports--including all of its food--come shipped via Hong Kong. My thought is that the two islands have, if not quite merged together, definitely grown in each others’ direction somewhat in the time since quirks Happened to the world.

-Shigaraki mostly burned out All for One (the quirk) in his final battle with Deku. His 75% complete status combined with the damaged AFO quirk, over-used super-regeneration, and the strain of the last fight has left him a somewhat precarious existence, with his enhancements spiraling into breakdown if he disrupts his balance overmuch. That said, he definitely did not burn out as much as Midoriya thinks he did, a fact Shigaraki is perfectly content to keep to himself, not least because returning to his role as supervillain is not entirely off the table if Midoriya and his classmates don’t follow through on promises to improve the state of their society.

--Mr. Compress is in the wind. Shigaraki has his quirk, but by arrangement--he's laying low, but will want his quirk back eventually, once he's established his new identity.

-Toga has shacked up with a rogue faction of the MLA and is reconnecting to her quirk in a way that tells her it's okay, it's always been okay. She's handling it with Skeptic and Geten; the three of them have developed a relationship that seems to consist almost entirely of bile and spite, but they close ranks terrifyingly well.

-Kurogiri is overseeing the treatment of the remaining Noumu. He's in a somewhat delicate honor-bound arrangement overseen by Tsukauchi--he doesn't try to run away as long as Tsukauchi doesn't try to cage him--but he's keeping to his word so far, periodically in communication with Aizawa, though Shigaraki is pointedly incommunicado. There are issues there that will need to be resolved eventually, but Shigaraki's in no hurry to do so.

-Trumpet becomes instrumental to the MLA ideology surviving and its sounder points being addressed--he does some prison time, but the Commission is completely unable to stop him from turning his trial into a media circus the likes of which the country hasn't seen in decades. It helps him sleep better at night, anyway.

-All for One, Dabi, and Re-Destro are dead. -AFO was killed in the Tartarus jailbreak--NOT by Shigaraki, but rather by a guard who realized what was about to happen and made the call, just before Decay got him, to pull the trigger on all the guns aimed at the Lord of Evil’s head. This was unsatisfying for pretty much everyone. -Dabi was, one way or another, lost to The Todoroki Plotline. -Re-Destro almost certainly dies at some point during the "war", protecting his savior and liberator, and willing him to carry on towards tearing down all the systems that entrap people.

#spinarakiweek2020 #shigaraki tomura #iguchi shuuichi #boku no hero academia #bnha #my hero academia #my writing #ficcing

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hillbillyoracle · 5 years ago

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Dealing with Stress When You Live in a Rough Place

This isn't necessarily tarot or shadow work, but I wanted to write a little bit about strategies I've found useful for dealing with my neighborhood in it's current state. All of this can apply to managing stress generally but I'm focusing on folks in my boat. I'm incredibly sleep deprived so it's going to be rambly - I'm warning you now. But hopefully this helps someone.

I've shared a little bit about what's been going on in other posts; we hear shootings at least weekly, people will play loud music so loud the window rattle really late at night, all out brawls have broken out in the parking lot, our neighbors bang against the walls even in the middle of the night, most our neighbors have made it clear they don't like us because we're gay, we've had our car broken into at least 2 in the last month, kids have taken to beating our cars with sticks, climbing on and under them, screaming in front of our house, beating on our door and running off - like y'all it's a lot!

I talk about this so folks can know where I'm coming from. Some folks read this and they're horrified, some folks are going to read that and be like fuck that's tame. How hard a situation looks really does depend on what your normal is and how you were raised. For me, it's pretty intense. I was raised in out in the country so I didn't grow up living really close to people like I have to here in the city. And country neighborhoods have their own brand of rough, do not underestimate it, but most of what I've compiled here is going to be about living in close proximity with other people in areas with high crime rates.

Mindset Shifts

The Sooner You Accept Your Lack of Control - The Better

And I mean really accept it. Not just intellectually understanding that there's not anything you can do, but getting as okay with that as you can manage. For folks who are already traumatized that's a whole lot harder to do. Living in a space that traumatizes you daily will also make that harder as time goes on. But it's been some of the most important work I've done while living in a place that this. Sometimes I cope by being very public about what I'm going through, sometime I cope by

Sensory Management is Not a Luxury, It is a Necessity

This has become overwhelmingly clear to me that sensory overload in rough neighborhoods is a wildly underdiscussed health issue. There's measurable health differences in people who are exposed to a lot of noise versus those who aren't. I'm autistic so this is something I have to do just to function but I've seen a huge shift in my girlfriend's mental health since living here too. Take it seriously and try to attend to it just like you would any other health concern, making it a part of your routine. This is where adapting Polyvagal strategies has come in handy.

Good is Still Good Even If There's a Ton of Bad

There are very few moments of pure joy in a neighborhood like this. One of the reasons that a gratitude practice has been genuinely helpful is that it's shown me how much good can get swept away in the tidal wave of crap in a place like this. So that I don't feel helpless or internalize how worthless places like this are designed to make you feel, I try to resist by reflecting on the good. IT helps me feel like my life still has meaning while I'm living here and it's not a waste to be right where I am right now.

I Am Not Failing Myself For Not Getting Sleep, Food, Safe, Etc

I'm lucky that we've been good on food but sleep and safety have been in short supply. I realized I often felt like I was a bad person for being in this situation where I couldn't sleep, I criticized myself for not being able to sleep through all the noise and getting worked up. I have to remind myself daily that I'm not failing myself for what I can't really control. I'm not a bad person because of what people around me choose to do.

Polyvagal Strategies Adapted

Nature

Ideally, when you're trying to regulate your nervous system, you'd want to get out into nature more. It's just flat out not accessible or safe to do so here. I'm lucky that my room faces a nice tree and when I'm getting stressed, I take some time to just sit and really look at it. I try to notice the details. I also really enjoy feeding birds on my window sill. I invested in a big bag of bird seed with some Christmas money that's lasted me at least a year now but I used to get bags for about 5 dollars at Kroger. If you can't get close to nature, lure it to you.

Need something totally free? You can also pull up livefeeds of bird feeders on YouTube. I used to watch them when I couldn't walk to put out birdseed. Still very helpful. Nature cams in general are great. Put on a nature doc like Planet Earth. Change your computer and phone backgrounds to have natural landscapes. Even just sketching landscapes and having landscape are around your space can help.

If you can buy some soil, dig some up, or swipe some from a public garden bed, you can grow some small plants on your window sill. You can grow a lot of seeds from vegetables and some fruits you get at the store. You can also collect seeds from trees and try to grow them (it's difficult, plant several at a time). Take cuttings of plants you can identify as safe. Extension services will also sometimes send seeds for free. Taking care of a plant really helps us spend more time in the restorative part of our nervous system.

Sound

At the intersection of sound and nature is nature noises. If you're trying to block out your neighbors anyways, nature noises are the best option. I've had the best luck rain and storm sounds. Water noises in particular have a calming effect on our nervous system. If I really need to block something out I'll layer a rain generator over some music I like (rain sounds + Elliot Smith = a vibe).

Music in general can have different activating and calming effects on our nervous system. Pay attention to what music activates you and makes you more likely to be in conflict with people when you listen to it and what music makes you more social. Physically relaxation is harder for me personally to gauge. As a person with trauma I can't always tell when my body is relaxing or not. So paying attention to how I treat others helps me check myself.

Temperature + Touch

When we're warmer, we tend to feel more socially connected than when we're cold. Put on some extra clothes, pile on the blankets, take a bath, or grab a space heater if you have one. It's worth increasing the temp a little if you're stressed. Too hot and we can begin to feel crowded out. So if you're feeling the need to flee, it's worth trying to cool off a little. I usually do this by splashing some cool water on my face.

While we crave touch from others, touch from ourselves also helps calm our nervous systems! Jin Shin Jyutsu has been super helpful for me. There are a few videos online. I recommend searching Facebook for a woman local to me - Jennifer Bradley. I took one of her in person classes before the pandemic and it's been very helpful especially around sleep. I think the only place she's got her recent videos up is on her Facebook page but they're worth tracking down. She's a very good teacher and just a very soothing presence in general.

There's some evidence that just imagining being hugged or held is calming on the nervous system. Some goes for imagining ourselves out walking in nature. Don't be afraid to spend time daydreaming!

Breath + Movement

A lot of unsafe neighborhoods make common advice like going for a walk completely out of the question. However, even just moving more around your space can help. Yoga has been very helpful to me. My partner finds bodyweight exercises really help her. Any movement you feel good doing counts. Including movement you imagine yourself doing as well.

Breathing is movement, or seems to have a similar effect at least. I really recommend checking out a few breath work strategies to use. You've always got your lungs on you so it's easy to use. I like the in for 4 counts, hold for 7, release for 8 pattern. Breath is a direct line to the nervous system and I try to do a breathing pattern several times a day just to regroup.

Cognitive Strategies

Journal Like Your Life Depends on It

I'm not joking. TMS journaling - journaling stream of consciousness very intensely for about 20-30 minutes and then destroying what you've written - has been key not only to me surviving this place but having fewer Fibro flares than when I was living in much calmer places. But honestly all journaling is helpful. I've been keeping a daily journal in Notion and that alone has been helpful. Making sure I've gotten as much as possible off of my mind throughout the day has helped so much. Find a journaling strategy that allows you to take the cognitive load of (or a few) and practice them as often as you can. Not into journaling? I used to take videos of myself talking into the camera and save or delete them depending on whether I wanted to come back to them. Are words rough? Draw your feelings or scenes as you saw them.

Find the Story That Works

There are a bunch of conflicting ideas about what the right view of trauma and the story of it is. I personally really hate any narrative that places me as a victim. For better or worse, I like to look at what I've learned in any giving situation. So in my current situation, when I'm overwhelmed, I remind myself that I'm only getting a glimpse of what some people in places like this go through. It's increasing my empathy and expanding my awareness which allows me to better serve others. It's made me more committed to keeping my materials accessible over profiting. There's been a lot of benefit when I frame it that way. And that works for me. If that story isn't helpful for you - work to find a frame to narrate your experiences - as they're happening - that help you feel more whole.

Conclusion

I'm not sure if these strategies will work for other people but I wanted to at least have something out there than people could hopefully find if they're struggling with the same thing. Basically, if you can't fix it - manage it. Find ways to make the experience less traumatic if you're able to. Manage your sensory input. Do what you can with what you have where you are. Too many folks will tell you that you absolutely have to change your material circumstances before you can address mental health but for many of us that's just not possible. Or in the words of one of my favorite Buddhist teachers, Robina Courtin, "If you can do something, do something, but if you can't, what are you going to do?"

#polyvagal theory #trauma #urban poverty #coping methods #coping mechanism

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goodlucktai · 5 years ago

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i’ll find a ring if you’ll find a shaded tree

good omens pairing: aziraphale/crowley word count: 3203

read on ao3

There were plenty of ways Crowley might have imagined his afternoon going, if he had spared the idea any mind. It’s miserable out, the sky sponged gray all the way across with heaving rain clouds, so one could safely assume it would be an afternoon spent largely in the warm indoors until his dinner date with an angel later in the evening.

This assumption, if made at all, would be markedly dashed (pointedly, even, with a fat red marker and a pair of eyebrows raised above the clipboard as if to say ‘you really thought you’d get away with a quiet day in?’) by said angel himself.

The door jumps open, locked at all times but never at all for Aziraphale, and then closes again with two identical slams. There’s a brief stutter to Aziraphale’s hurried steps as he presumably tries to adhere to politeness and toe off his brogues in the foyer without losing any forward momentum.

“Crowley! I’ve been calling you, your stupid answer-thing is full!”

In the time it takes Crowley to sit up from his boneless sprawl on the sofa, Aziraphale is there in all his pale creams and butter yellows, as well as a criminally soft dove gray sweater vest Crowley gifted him four Christmases ago.

He’s lovely, as always, and there’s a happy, squirmy little creature in Crowley’s chest stirred to life by his voice and proximity alone; but he’s wearing a look of wide-eyed panic better suited a man at the wrong end of a firing squad, and working furiously at the signet ring that’s adorned his pinky since the actual beginning of time.

“Angel? What’s-- “ Crowley seizes up in some alarm when the angel keeps coming, piling onto the sofa with such disregard that Crowley has to either yank his knees up to his chest or lose them. “Oi!”

“Give me your hand,” Aziraphale whispers furiously, like a man afraid to be caught speaking in church. He catches hold of Crowley’s wrist, pushes the ring onto the traditional finger, and goes on, “Do exactly as I say, and for the love of all that’s holy, don’t ask questions.”

There is absolutely no way Crowley can abide these terms. If the threat of Falling wasn’t enough to keep his mouth shut in the Beginning, an Aziraphale-brand snit certainly won’t be, so-- just as soon as Crowley can get his jaw to stop hanging open, and kick his backfiring brain back into operating speeds, and do anything besides sit there and ogle Aziraphale’s ring on Crowley’s finger-- then there are absolutely going to be questions. Loads of them.

However, beating him to the punch, is the flashbang arrival of an Archangel.

Gabriel, to be precise.

Aziraphale tenses. Crowley’s hackles go up in as textbook a Pavlovian response as there’s ever been.

He feels his skin spring to scale, sharp canines lengthening, and the way the room swims into fuzzy, heat-based vision means his eyes have probably gone all yellow, too.

‘And die already,’ Gabriel had said, to Aziraphale’s precious form. ‘Die already,’ like it was the last revision on an audit report and then he could clock out for the day and call it a job well done.

For what he would have easily-- casually-- taken from Crowley, there isn’t an end in sight to this wounded rage.

“Alright, dearest,” Aziraphale murmurs, putting a hand on the small of Crowley’s back. It’s so quiet there’s a good chance Gabriel can’t hear, and even with the thrum of nervous tension in every inch of Aziraphale’s corporeal form, he spares Crowley something soft. “It’s alright.”

“So this is where you’ve run off to,” Gabriel says, looking about in open distaste. “Who decorated this place, anyway? I love the empty space, don’t think I like the color.”

It’s the light pressure of Aziraphale’s hand on him keeping Crowley pinned to the sofa, and only that. He’s as good as chiseled from stone, mouth open only slightly to track Gabriel’s scent, to show off his teeth.

(He does make a mental note to change everything about the flat Gabriel even halfway approves of. No, scratch that, he’s starting over completely. He’s moving to Chelsea. Fuck you, onion eyes.)

“Well, I had to see it for myself,” the unwelcome creature goes on cheerfully. “Not that we didn’t believe you, Aziraphale, just that-- well, you’ve fudged the truth a bit before, haven’t you? No, don’t look like that, it’s forgotten!” He waves a hand over his shoulder, carelessly. “Let’s leave the past in the past, or whatever it is they say, I don’t know. And with Her approval, there’s not much room for argument from me is there?”

He laughs, inviting them to share in the joke. Aziraphale doesn’t even smile, and Crowley is actively waiting for Gabriel to come two steps forward and one to the right, where he would be just out of the way of the coffee table and well within striking distance. Aziraphale’s fingers bunch in the back of Crowley’s shirt as if to say ‘don’t you dare’.

“To think, we assumed you were fraternizing with the enemy all this time when you’ve actually been in love! There’s nothing wrong with love, is there? That’s as holy as it gets!” He sounds like a kindergartner describing their parent’s job exactly as it was described to them, with all the confidence and faculty of someone who has no idea what the words coming out of their mouth even mean. He either has no clue how to read a room or he’s bluffing his way through this uncomfortable situation like a pro. Clapping his hands together in a self-satisfied way he adds, “Make sure you save us a table!”

“It’s going to be a private affair, I should think,” Aziraphale says stiffly. “Close friends and family only.”

“Probably better that way, not too crowded,” Gabriel agrees with a commiserating nod. It’s as if Aziraphale slammed a door right in his face and he just chose not to notice. He turns to leave, and pauses, turning his hat in his hands. “I have to say, Aziraphale, I really am relieved this whole thing got straightened out. I thought you had lost your way.”

It’s an unexpected moment of sincerity. Aziraphale blinks, but Crowley isn’t so easily won.

“After six thousand years of making his life a misery, you want to extend the olive branch now? Now that you know he won’t drag you down with him?” Crowley bares his teeth. “How’s that for unconditional love?”

If a single lunch date at the Ritz watching Aziraphale eat both his and Crowley’s own vanilla custard and listening to him complain about some obstinate customer or another would cost Crowley absolutely everything, he would pay it. He would be a fool not to pay it. He can’t imagine the audacity of six thousand years wasted. All that time, all those angels were free to know Aziraphale, free to love him, and they chose not to.

As happy as Crowley is to fill that space, to take that spot, he’s angry it was ever left empty to begin with.

Gabriel is watching him with an expression that can’t decide whether it’s more startled or annoyed. Aziraphale’s free hand finds one of Crowley’s, working it free of its fist and threading their fingers together. His thumb rubs at the patch of shining black scales just under his knuckles, soothing. It’s as if he’s loosing plates of Crowley’s armor one by one, the way he did in Wessex once after a round in the tiltyard. He doesn’t speak but his body says hush.

Crowley bites the inside of his lip, so hard it almost draws blood.

“She said we could stand to learn a thing or two from you,” Gabriel says. It’s not so much annoyance as it is scrutiny, but that rankles even more. “I wasn’t sure what She meant before, but it’s love isn’t it?” He says it again like an animal mimicking a human word. The sound is almost right, except in its lacking of all meaning. “Demons aren’t supposed to know it, but you do.”

“Well, look at the time,” Aziraphale says loudly, not even pretending to look round at a clock or Crowley’s watch. “I can’t believe we’re nearly late for our appointment. I guess you’d better go, Gabriel.”

Gabriel lights up with the manic eagerness of upper management that every hourly employee knows to dread. “Would you mind giving a seminar? We could arrange a day-pass for you, and cater lunch! Aziraphale would like that, I’m sure. Just look at him.”

Aziraphale doesn’t react, but it’s a studied non-reaction that means the barb hit home. Oh, that complete and utter git.

Gabriel takes two steps forward and one to the right. Crowley watches with animal stillness as the archangel rounds the coffee table, saying something about PowerPoint presentations. He’s going to bite. One good snap. It’s Gabriel’s fault for coming over this way. You don’t just invite yourself into the snake’s den, do you? Not without a nasty repercussion, at least. And besides, Crowley’s not even venomous today. Probably.

At the last second, Aziraphale bullies him back against the sofa with angelic strength, an arm pinned across Crowley’s chest like an iron bar and his own body blocking access to Gabriel’s. Crowley hisses at him and pushes ineffectively at the solid weight of him, but he might as well have been pushing at the side of the bookshop for all the good he was doing.

“I really think,” Aziraphale grits out in the ‘we are very much closed for the day, no more sales I’m afraid, please make your way to the exit’ tone Crowley is intimately familiar with, “that you should leave now.”

“Al-right,” Gabriel says in his obnoxious accent. He looks disappointed, but bounces back too quickly for Crowley’s taste. “I’ll get back to you on that seminar. Maybe we can chat at the wedding!”

Aziraphale only sits up when Gabriel is well and truly gone, straightening his vest with unhappy tugs. Crowley remains coiled against the arm of the sofa, seething.

“Should have let me take off his arm, ” he mutters. “A hand at least.”

“It’s simply not worth the paperwork, my dear.”

Something’s wrong with Aziraphale’s voice. It wobbles a bit, in a way that sends alarm bells ringing in every square inch of Crowley’s form, and when Crowley leans forward to get a good look at him, sure enough-- there are tears in his eyes.

The anger deserts Crowley as deftly as the light of the Host once did. Color returns to his vision, fangs retracting back into only slightly sharper-than-human canines, and the hands he reaches for Aziraphale with are smooth and scaleless.

“Angel,” he says hopelessly. “Hey, I’m sorry. I won’t bite anybody, swear.”

Aziraphale chuckles a bit, accepting the hands that curl around his own and squeezing Crowley’s fingers in turn.

“It’s not you who needs to apologize. I can’t believe I’ve done this.”

“The wedding sham?”

True, Crowley’s heart knocks a little harder against his chest than it has any right to at the idea of-- marrying Aziraphale, being married to him. There’s a ring on his finger and he can’t even think about that without a giddy, champagne-bubbles feeling making a nuisance of itself in the unguarded part of himself that’s been a lost cause since Eden. But…

Aziraphale nods, miserable. “They came to the bookshop to offer a performance review. A performance review, of all things, after a year-- anyway. Naturally, they want to know how we escaped their judgement, and all those clever lies we thought up just weren’t doing the trick, and Sandalphon started talking about going round to yours, and I-- panicked. I couldn’t let him-- “ He takes a fortifying breath, grip on Crowley’s hands tightening to the point that a mortal’s bones would have broken. “I made up some fanciful story about a union. I believe I called it a marriage of true minds,” he adds with a half-smile, and seems galvanized at Crowley’s amused snort. “Michael tried to call my bluff, had me sign the form and submit it right there with the four of them as witnesses, and…”

“And it worked,” Crowley surmises. He taps the back of Aziraphale’s hand with his thumb and tries not to think about ineffable plans or inscrutable mothers. He almost manages it.

“I’m so sorry,” Aziraphale whispers. “I knew it would work, I knew it would. I’ve known for… a long time. Since Hamlet, at least.”

Crowley feels himself go red, and abruptly can’t make eye contact anymore. It’s really quite something, to suddenly have to address the elephant that’s followed you room to room for roughly four hundred years. He gives a tentative tug at his hands, and Aziraphale absolutely does not release him.

“Please look at me, Crowley.”

He almost can’t. He certainly doesn’t want to. He’s babbling, he realizes with vague horror, saying something along the lines of, “It’s a human thing, Aziraphale, they made it up back when people first decided they needed heirs to inherit houses, you were there, we tried to talk them out of it.”

Lunch dates at the Ritz. Picnics in the park. Warm evenings in the back room, dozing under piles of worn quilts on a worn tartan sofa, the hearth left empty because fire in the bookshop makes Crowley twitch and Aziraphale can read him like any one of his precious books. Sharing chilled white wines and heady reds, cherry cordials that leave smudges on Aziraphale’s lips, thousands and thousands of years of stories they both remember a little bit differently.

It’s good. Better than Crowley knows how to ask for. He can’t stand the thought of losing it.

Fingers touch his chin, gently, and guide his face up.

“And furthermore,” Crowley insists hysterically, “it doesn’t have to change anything. You were clever to come up with it, and if it worked that’s even better, and we can just go through the motions, an addendum to our Arrangement. It doesn’t have to mean anything.”

Aziraphale says, “My darling, it means everything. Of course it does. Only this isn’t how I wanted it to go.”

His voice is tinged with tears again, but they seem borne of frustration rather than hurt. Crowley risks a nervous glance at him, heart surging up hopefully like some sort of stupid buoy.

“I wanted to do it properly,” Aziraphale is saying, brow furrowed, mouth all puckered. “You deserve champagne and flowers, all that fuss you pretend to hate. I see you get all misty-eyed at proposals, even ones on television commercials.” Crowley squawks, outraged at the flagrant slander, but Aziraphale goes right on, “There’s a meteor shower coming up that’s supposed to be the event of the century, and I had-- it was, I had everything planned. Your ring isn’t even ready yet. This is all horrible.”

Crowley stares at him. He thinks maybe he’s supposed to say something into this silence, but for the life of him, he’s got nothing. Aziraphale’s ring seems to burn on his finger. After the seconds melt into minutes, Aziraphale looks at him. His expression recycles its defeat into concern.

“Crowley? Sweetheart, what is it?”

The endearment sends a shiver all the way down Crowley’s spine. He opens and closes his hands like lobster pincers, to be certain he’s not gone actually paralyzed, and still Aziraphale doesn’t let them go.

“You said,” he says intelligently, and then doesn’t know where to go from there. “It wasn’t a lie?” he tries again, in a rather small voice.

“The marriage?” Aziraphale searches his face in the manner of a grad student desperately searching the footnotes of an incomprehensible text. “Of course it wasn’t. A fake marriage certificate would hardly have been approved by God.”

Crowley tries to say something and only manages to come up with a squeaking sound. Somehow, it betrays him entirely, and Aziraphale’s eyebrows come together.

“The proposal is meant to be a surprise, but I would have hoped we were on the same page with the engagement.”

Before he can make sense of literally any one thing about this situation, brain still struggling to jump the hurdle of the word ‘engagement’ in regards to them, Crowley finds himself so wholly embraced that he’s practically hauled into Aziraphale’s lap.

He sputters, puts up a token protest, and goes absolutely pliant when he feels lips against the crown of his head.

A halo used to rest there, shining like anything, but a kiss is much better.

They’ve kissed before, when it was culturally appropriate and even a few times when it wasn’t, but something is different about this time. Namely, that Aziraphale kisses him again, on the forehead this time, and then again on the bridge of his nose, and then again on the cheek, and then again right on the corner of his mouth, and Crowley is almost ready for it when their lips slide together, his breath almost doesn’t hitch when Aziraphale kisses him like they do in romance films, like he means to never stop.

They part because Crowley’s lungs have forgotten they don’t actually need air and because Aziraphale seems to want to gaze at him.

“I know I’ve said it before,” he says. “I know you heard me.”

‘They’ll destroy you.’

‘That was very kind of you.’

‘I won’t have you risking your life.’

‘I forgive you.’

‘To the world.’

“I heard you,” Crowley says, because he did.

He always heard Aziraphale, even when Aziraphale had no clue he was calling out. He heard ‘oh, you silly idiot’ and ‘you’re not as funny as you think you are’ and ‘please come in, please convince me to let you stay’ in a sidelong glare or the roll of his eyes or the downward turn of his mouth when they stood by the shop door.

And every lunch date at the Ritz and picnic in the park and evening in the back room was stuffed full of ‘I love you’s. A tartan quilt and an unlit fireplace and a cherry cordial, passed from an angel’s fingers to a demon’s mouth, were quiet, secret ways to say what it wasn’t always safe to say.

“Me, too,” he whispers.

“My Crowley,” Aziraphale says affectionately, another way of saying what he’s been saying for years, “I know.”

Desperately trying to get his footing back, Crowley rubs at his eyes with the heel of his hand and sits back as far as Aziraphale’s arms will allow him to go.

“I still want that proposal,” he informs the angel. “During the meteor shower. With all the fuss you promised. I’ll be sure to act surprised.”

Aziraphale smiles at him. “You can’t act to save your life. I see right through you, you know.”

But that’s hardly Crowley’s fault. Six thousand years of being known would give away anybody’s edge. He rolls his eyes, and settles into where he’s obviously meant to stay for awhile, looping his arms around Aziraphale’s neck.

“The act is for everyone else’s benefit, angel. We know better, don’t we?” Crowley grins, crooked, and thinks of apples and flaming swords, freely given. “We always have.”

#good omens #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #aziraphale #anthony j crowley #my writing #gomens fic #its 1am and i have no regrets #im invincible

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blissfulalchemist · 4 years ago

Text

A Chance for Faith Ch. 5

Finally got Chapter 5 finished! You can read it here below the cut or on

Ao3!

Important timeline note: This happens days after the attempted arrest.

@risenlucifer @fromathelastoveritaserum @jacobs-pup @onshammad

“Ancient men were killers. They were tenacious. They were strong. Now what are we? Passive. Lazy. Weak,” Chance snorted hearing the sound of the biggest brother of the Seed family preach with his wispy, gritty voice. Chance was squatted in some bushes, Physocarpus malvaceus or mallow ninebark he was pretty sure, watching the operation outside of the armory bunker between his cover’s red brown leaves. Chance had been studying this spot for the last two days trying to work out how the place worked, more than enough time to gather what he needed, though one could never be too sure. He figured that the more he knew the quicker he would be able to take this bunker, and hopefully the whole Seed family, down. Today, though, was the day he would finally find the opportunity to enact his plan. Simple and fast; get in, place as many explosives as he could, get out, and watch the show.

“Culture and technology hasn't improved us, it has brought us to our knees!” Chance stifled his laughter at the words being spouted in the recording, “If our ancestors could see us now, they would be ashamed. They would be sickened and they would be angry. We have forgotten where we came from. We have forgotten who we are.”

Chance rolled his eyes bringing up his binoculars in an attempt to make out details on the door, “Just because you couldn’t figure out a flip phone doesn’t mean technology is evil, old man,” Chance whispered to himself, chuckling. The door was big, metal, and appearing to need a key card to get in, impenetrable. It just needs one big explosive, that should get the job done I’m sure.

Chance swept the area once more confirming his game plan to get through step one. He repeated the steps mentally, checking his bag loaded with all the explosives he found over the last few days. He just had to sneak past the guards, place a few remote explosives, and then use the rest of the explosives to get the party going. Once this place was out of commission taking down the rest of Eden’s Gate would be a piece of cake. What about Pratt?, Chance paused looking past the bag, What if he’s in there?, his conscience prodded.

He shook his head, a fair point but if this plan went as it should then Chance would be down in the bunker enough time to look for him. Besides who would be stupid enough to put prisoners with a bunch of weapons. What if Pratt got out by some miracle? Then he’d have full access to weapons and have the ability to pull a Rambo. Chance rolled his eyes at the thought. He had to save him now, to at the very least prevent Pratt from having a story like that to tell at the bars when this was all over. Pratt’s going to be fine. There’s nothing to worry about.

Chance took a deep breath making his way out of the bush as quietly as possible. He kept his eyes on the guards moving in front of him. They were close to being only a thousand feet from him. Chance’s heart started to race as his eyes moved around for an exit, he just had to stick to the plan. Just make an arc around the area and then-. Snap.

Chance froze, his heart beating rapidly, mouth going dry. The soft click of a gun just behind Chance had him putting his hands up, closing his eyes tightly. Well there goes that plan. “Now keep low,” Chance nodded slowly at the instructions given to him, his chest burning from the breath he held in, “turn around slowly and walk back to the road,” the voice was young and male, even with the lack of gruffness that seemed too common among the men here. Except Pretty Boy, but he doesn’t count as much of a man.

Chance squinted his eyes open as he turned around hoping to get a look at who was holding a gun to his head. It didn’t work as Chance could hear the mystery man move so he was behind Chance the entire time as he started to face the road. Chance let his breath go and walked, doing as he was told, his legs starting to burn beneath him. “Hey, you grabbed my bag right?” Chance whispered to the guy behind him, “It's kind of important you know.”

Some of the taller plants around him tickled the underside of Chance’s arms, “Oh. No I didn’t. Yeah, just let-,” his tone became light and friendlier before he must have remembered what he was doing, “Hey, you shut up. I figure out what we should have with us, I’m the one with the gun.” There was a hesitancy in his footsteps as Chance continued to walk awkwardly, he was contemplating on going back for the bag or not. Chance heard him walk away quickly managing to return just as fast. The small clink of an enamel keychain against the cheap zipper was the only confirmation that it was his bag. The barrel of the gun tapped Chance’s head, the metal cold, “Hey I didn’t tell you to stop walking.” Chance looked at the ground not realizing he had stopped walking.

Chance started up again, “Thanks for grabbing my bag.” His legs were starting to shake, they were tired, “Can I at least stand at this point? My legs are killing me.”

There was a few seconds of silence from his potential captor, “Yeah I think it should be fine now.” Chance let out a relieved sigh, “But slowly and face the road the entire time.”

“Yes sir,” Chance let out a low groan as he stood. His legs were sore but they no longer screamed at him, for now. From this vantage point he could see that the road was faster approaching now with the use of his full stride. “Are you taking me to Jacob?” There was no response, “Trench Coat?” Still no response came, “Joseph? Maybe Faith? She’s kinda pretty don’t you think?” Chance heard the small sound of someone trying to hold back their laughter, “Are you taking me to any of them?” Chance was met with silence once more, too foreboding for his liking.

What is this guy’s plan?, Chance couldn’t help but wonder. As the two of them neared the edge of the road Chance could just make out a brown truck hidden within the trees. “Get in the truck,” Chance was ordered. Chance didn’t hesitate to get into the truck, settling himself quickly so that he could finally get a look at the person calling all the shots. They were about Chance’s height, wearing a red ski mask and the black and white camo, same as what was on the guards outside the armory. Chance recounted in his head all the people he had seen, he couldn’t place where this guy could have come from. Seeing how this situation was playing out so far, Chance doubted he was actually a part of the people that were trained by Jacob. Chance watched as he saw him place his backpack in the bed of the truck.

Chance flinched at the sound it made, hoping that nothing got dislodged. It’s not like Chance was the most adept at packing explosives. Realizing he had his hands up still, Chance placed them on his thighs shaking out his shoulders and arms. He watched intently as his charge made their way around the truck. They got in slamming the door pointing, what Chance could now see was a simple handgun, “Don’t try anything stupid,” he warned, deepening his voice, starting the truck. His head was swiveling as he pulled out of the hiding space.

It was silent as they made their way down the road putting distance between them and the armoury. Chance started to shift at the amount of silence, trying to prevent the dam of questions from pouring out. Or he just wanted out of this truck. Maybe if he just tucked and rolled he could make it mostly unharmed and-, “What the hell were you doing out there, civilian?” Chance flinched at the sudden outburst from the driver, “You could have blown our cover! I mean, my cover.” His voice became more muffled as the ski masked shifted and moved out of place, a small growl of annoyance ended his turn to speak.

Chance looked to him in disbelief, “Are you kidding me? I was trying to take down the biggest threat. And I had a really solid plan until you showed up. So now it’s ruined,” Chance argued. “Thanks for that.”

The driver nodded towards the bed of the truck an eyebrow raised, “A solid plan?” Chance nodded scoffing, “Blowing the place up? That was your plan?”

Chance crossed his arms giving a small eye roll, “Yeah and it was going to work.”

The captor’s dark eyes went wide, “Are you-,” the mask must have gotten caught in his mouth, laboring his breathing. “Hold on,” he quickly pulled off the ski mask tossing it to the side taking a deep inhale, “Fuck I hate wearing that thing.” Chance was taken aback when he finally came face to face with who took hold of him. Chance had assumed he was young but not teenager young. There was no way this guy could be more than twenty years old. His hair was long, black, and straight even in its current braids. His skin a brown showing some wear from the lack of sunlight he was used to getting if the small sliver of visible tan lines were any indication. His narrowed onyx eyes framed by a furrowed brow were currently staring Chance down, “Back to the point: Are you stupid? Or do you just have a fucking death wish?”

Chance’s eyes widened as he took offense to this kid’s words, “No.” Chance scoffed at the notion kicking his leg out slightly, “I’m doing the smart thing here. Jacob does all the training, meaning he has access to most of the Project’s weaponry. Taking him out fast and hard is the best thing to do here.” Chance gave him a smug smile.

It was sound logic, no one could argue against it, “You are stupid.” Chance opened his mouth to protest, “I’m not saying you’re wrong, but don’t you think if it was that easy we wouldn’t have done that by now?” Chance’s smile vanished, the kid placed an elbow on the window’s edge rubbing his temple, “Okay I’ll play along, maybe I’m wrong. How long have you been scoping out that bunker?”

“Long enough,” he retorted, suddenly feeling a little self conscious of his answers.

“So less than a week,” Chance stayed silent seeing the frustration grow on his driver’s face. “You really didn’t think this through,” the young man stated. He let out a long sigh, “Did you at least see any confirmation that the weapons were being taken there?” Chance tried to look back on the last two days, his response time must have been too long, “So I’m gonna take that as a no. What about Deputy Pratt? What if he was in there and you decided to blow up the place? Or all the other innocents down there, were you really going to just let them die?”

Chance flinched at the detail he had managed to overlook, turning his eyes away from the know it all. “Hey I would have figured it out,” Chance yelled, “I’m good at improvising. Thinking on the fly.”

“Improvising,” he let his eyes leave the road to look at Chance with an open mouth shaking his head, “Wow. You’re not stupid. You’re stupid stupid.” All this guy seemed to be doing was make Chance feel worse, which meant that he was telling the truth. “You can’t just improvise with Jacob Seed. That man has everything thought of. Even the best laid plans we’ve had have failed. Look you’re better off waiting on the fabled Deputy to help save us all from this.”

“Fabled Deputy?” Chance looked at him curious. Did my name seriously get around that fast?

“Yeah,” he smiled looking at the road in awe, “There was this deputy that got away after the arrest. Seems the Seeds got a vendetta for him,” That was a bit of an understatement, “I heard this guy took out like twenty guys on his own with his bare hands.” Well that was an exaggeration, Chance hadn’t even seen that many members in the four days since the arrest, waking in Dutch’s bunker. “Eli says we can’t rely on one man to take them down though, but he’s gonna be a great help with his skills and knowledge.”

Chance swallowed nodding along to what the kid had to say, tuning out the rest of his repeated tall tales. If these were the stories they got up here in the middle of the mountains then the rest of the county was going to be severely disappointed in who their hero actually was. A twenty-five year old ex-alcoholic that liked to dance the line of death, despite being terrified of coming back to a place he never wanted to see again, with the muscle mass and combat expertise of a child. Some hero he was.

“Tell me what you’ve heard about him,” his driver wondered, “You had to have heard something.”

Chance cleared his throat, “I heard he fails to live up to the hype.” Chance rubbed his clamming palms against his jeans, “He’s just some guy that everyone chose to be their martyr. All so they could finally be brave enough to take these leaders out themselves.”

Chance was given a sideways glance, “And I thought Tammy was cynical? You might have her beat.” Chance didn’t want to ruin the kid’s fantasy, but maybe if he knew who Chance was he could take him to Eli. Chance opened his mouth to speak before the local started talking, “I’d take you to Eli but he’s not the biggest fan of outsiders.” Well looks like I’m zero to two today, “Though I can tell him about you and maybe he can give you a test.”

Chance’s eyes went wide, “You have to pass a test in order to even have a chance of meeting him?” Chance shook his head, This is proving to be harder than I thought.

“Well you can never be too careful up here,” his voice became hallow and far away, “Another reason why it’s stupid to go after Jacob is because he’s got this method with his training, it makes people into sleeper agents.”

“Sleeper agents? Like what happens in, Return of the Joker?”

“Maybe...Is that movie,” his brow knitted together trying to piece it together.

Chance waved him off, “Doesn’t matter too much. But in it the Joker puts a chip in one of the Robins to take over his body at a later date,” Chance explained.

“Huh,” the young man thought for a second, “I know Jacob’s smart but I don’t think he’d be using that kind of technology.” His voice trailed off before lighting up again, “Hey! Maybe that’s what you can do! You can try and figure out how he’s doing it!”

That sounded like an easy enough thing to Chance. He just had to either infiltrate into the ranks or spend days watching some place trying to figure it out. “You think Eli would meet me if I did that?”

The driver opened his mouth before closing it hearing the static of the radio come on, “Wheat- Wheaty, come in,” the voice was deep, definitely an older man. Chance looked to his driver and to the radio, Wheaty, unique name.

He grabbed the receiver, “Go for Wheaty.”

“Just got a description of the Deputy,” Chance’s eyes went wide, “Need you to be on the lookout for him.” Wheaty nodded waiting for the voice to make its way through the static, “The guy’s young with a mess of curly brown hair. Green eyes,” Wheaty paused his nodding quickly glancing at Chance.

“Sounds pretty generic to me Eli,” he said into the radio, his eyes starting to narrow as he watched Chance in his peripheral.

“Well apparently this guy also has tattoos on his hands,” Chance quickly crossed his arms hiding his hands under his armpits. “Chemical formula stuff. Though no one knows of what or can even remember what they are. Unique enough detail for you?”

Wheaty turned to face the now shy deputy, “Yeah that’s unique alright. What do you want me to do with him if I see him?”

“Bring him here, sooner we get him here the better. Less chance that Jacob’s gotten to him,” Eli instructed as Wheaty hit his hand on the steering wheel, letting out a small curse. “Got that, kid?”

He let out a sigh, “Loud and clear. I’ll let you know if I see anything.” Wheaty pulled the truck over, placing the receiver back in it’s holder. He took a breath as Chance shied away from him, ready to jump out of the truck if needed. This isn’t going to be good, “Are you fucking kidding me?! You’re the deputy everyone’s been talking about? The one that’s supposed to be some big hero?”

“Tales of my escapades may have been a bit exaggerated,” Chance said softly, giving him an embarrassed smile, shrugging.

He groaned, “You’re telling me,” Wheaty threw his head back on the seat letting out a long breath, “I’m a little disappointed don’t get me wrong, but now we’re at an impasse.”

Chance tilted his head, “What do you mean? You heard him, you have to take me to him right away.”

“Yeah, but not like this,” Wheaty faced him, hands clasped pointing to Chance, “Look I’m sure you’re capable and will be our famed hero,” his arms moved as if he was showing off some muscle before they fell back to his side slowly, “just, not now. Look how easily I found you? You were ready to blow up a bunker that didn’t even have the weapons in them.” Chance looked down to the stitching of the seat, his plan was a failure from the start. He really didn’t have a clue of what he was doing, what he got thrown into. Chance ran his nail along the thread, “You were going to get yourself killed and we can’t have that.” He shook his head, “If I was Eli I’d send you back out to the Valley or to the Hebane. Give you some time to get your bearings. Have you walk a bit more before you start flying. It’s what he had me do before I became a full fledged member of the Wolves Den.”

Chance shrugged, biting his inner lip, “Eli made it sound like too big a risk if I was left out here too long,” Chance argued, “Just- Just let him meet me and then he can decide what he wants to do with me.” His voice was on the precipice of begging, which annoyed Chance. He just wanted to do the right thing and do it right. Show that maybe, just maybe he wasn’t such a disappointment after all.

Wheaty shook his head, “No.” Chance looked him in the eye, “I am aware of how big a risk I’m taking right now, but you’re just not ready.” Chance glared at him, placing his hand on the handle of the door, “And trust me that’s not a bad thing Dep. None of us were ready for this. You’re far from alone in that department. We just have to be smart about this and if I’ve learned anything from Eli, the smart thing to do here is to have you in the Valley with John. He’s not dumb by any means but he’s the least bright of the brothers.” Chance let out a sigh, “Heard he’s also a little more unstable since you rolled in.”

“You think I’ll be able to take him down?” Chance asked not getting his hopes up too high.

“Yeah,” Wheaty nodded, “I know you can.” Wheaty placed a reassuring hand on Chance’s shoulder, “And don’t worry I’ll be a radio call away! I’ll try and help you out the best I can up here, along with trying to make it down there every now and then.” He held up a hand for a high five smiling, “You can do this. Just get a little more comfortable with the whole situation and how you want to handle it. Then,” he pointed between the two of them, “you and me, we’ll take down that Jarhead of a brother. What do ya say?”

If Chance was being lectured by someone younger than himself, it was obvious he really hadn't been ready to take down Jacob, just yet. Chance ran a hand down his face before slapping his hand against Wheaty’s, “I say you’re right.” The two brought their clasped hands down for a proper handshake, “Call me Chance by the way. Don’t like being called Deputy.”

Wheaty smiled, “Got yourself a deal Chance. Now come on let’s get you down these mountains.” Wheaty pulled a U-turn south turning the radio to his own personal station. It wasn’t long before both young men were air guitaring to the riffs and lamenting on what defined rock music. Which band was better, who was more over played, or how each area has a certain era of rock that dominates what gets played. It was fun and normal, like they had always been friends. For the near two hour ride it took to get to the outskirts of Fall’s End Chance felt like himself again. Chance was wishing that the ride would last longer, but like all good things in Chance’s life, it had to come to an end. Chance pulled his bag out of the truck bed looking at Wheaty one last time, “Seriously, you need anything Chance, and I mean anything you give me a call.”

Chance gave him a smirk, “Same to you. Thanks Wheaty.” Chance rubbed the back of his neck, “You know you might have saved my life back there,” he admitted.

“Hey,” he put the truck in drive, “Now you just owe me.” He gave a laugh waving to his new friend, “Till next time!”

Chance waved back as the truck disappeared back to the mountains, “Till next time,” he whispered before turning in a circle looking for the path he had to take.

#a chance for faith #chance ruicknar oc #he gets to finally meet his best friend!#I finally also updated after idk a month or more

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