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petite-ely · 4 years ago

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Afraid // JJ Maybank

Six - Too much to risk

Pairing: JJ Maybank x fem routledge! reader

Warnings: Mention gun, being shot at, swearing, slight mention of death, maybe some mistakes oopsie, tell me if I missed something

Description: A small improvised visits by Petekin leads to a hectic afternoon in the marsh.

A/n : Hellooo guys, gals and pals, this is quite a long part. I really wanted to finish the first episode. also I really don’t know how to had a little read mor thing I don’t know how. Sorry! hope you like it!

Previously next

Afraid masterlist

gif by @robinsbuckly

Song recommendation

It was now far later in the morning, meaning the sun had fully risen and it was a much more reasonable hour to be up at. JJ had left a while ago and John B was still peacefully sleeping (and loudly snoring). Y/n hadn’t been able to go to sleep after her talk with the blond boy and she was now sitting on the couch reading her book (actually reading this time). So, when she heard the front door open, she didn’t bother looking up, assuming it was one of her friends. Who else would just come in like that anyway?

"Hey, there’s coffee made in the kitchen if you want any,” she said, still not pulling her gaze of off her book.

“That’s kind of you to offer, but I’ve already had two cups this morning, I don’t think it would be reasonable for me to have more.” Y/n’s book fell to the ground.

“Sheriff Peterkin, I’m so sorry. I-I thought you were someone else-” she got up from her seat, “-do you, do you need anything, water or uh-”

“You don’t have to bother sweetheart, I’m not planning on staying that long. I just want to talk for a bit,” answered the adult.

“Okay,” she took a pause to swallow. “I’ll go get John B.”

“If you don’t mind, I’ll go get him myself.” Y/n nodded, watching as she disappeared into the hallway leading to her brother’s room.

She started pacing around the living room, ferociously biting the nails on her left hand. It wasn’t every day a cop showed up in your house. She had absolutely no idea why Peterkin would want to talk. Actually, she had about 25 different ideas, starting with the fact her uncle hadn’t been on the island for about 3 months. And the party last night, what if she knew about the gun? Would JJ be in trouble? Whatever it was, it wasn’t good, that she was certain of it.

The conversation went on for much longer than expected. Basically, Peterkin knew about their uncle being awol and she offered to help get dcs off of their back for a while if they helped her in return. She had also mentioned that it wouldn’t be good if they had seen a shipwreck, which of course they denied despite that being actually true. Y/n didn’t fully understand what Peterkin meant. But she knew that it meant there was something valuable in that boat. And Jonh B knew it too. Yet, he was afraid, which was understandable, considering everything. They were pretty much guaranteed to be put in foster care if they got caught. Not good at all.

“You know what? I'm calling it off,” announced John B.

Y/n raised her head from her sketchbook, dropping her pencil on the low table in front of her to listen to what her brother had to say. She had been drawing silently while the other pogues, all sitting in different ridiculous positions across the backyard, talked and did their own things. She was only half listening to what they were saying, sketching messily the outline of the château. It wasn't very good, but it was calming to do. When she heard the seriousness in her brother’s tone, she closed her sketchbook, otherwise she’d be too distracted.

“Peterkin told us that if we stayed out of the marsh, she’d help with dcs.” The girl grimaced remembering the woman’s words.

“And you believed her?” “Yes, JJ I believed her.”

“You really think that she’d help us?” asked y/n. “It’s been more than 6 months, bird. If she really wanted to help, she would have helped earlier, no?”

“Yeah, she’s a cop, an actual cop. And you think she’s telling the truth?” added JJ.

“Look,” John B glanced at y/n. “All we gotta do is stay out of the marsh for a couple days and she’ll help us.”

“I know, I was there.” Kiara snickered softly at her friend’s words. “But I don’t know, I feel like we’re getting tricked or something. What if she’s like trying to lure us out of there-” she gestured to the water behind them, “-because there’s something she doesn’t want us to see, uh? What if it’s about dad?”

J.B rubbed the back of his neck before turning his body slightly to face the ocean. “Look,” he addressed his sister. “I get that you’re curious and you want to know what’s down there, but I'm only trying to do what’s best for us. And I think it would be better if we listened to Peterkin. I’m just trying to keep you safe, to protect you, bug.” His voice softened as he finished his sentence.

“And it didn’t help that JJ was shooting a gun last night!” Y/n raised her eyebrows at Pope, her face clearly showing intrigue. She wondered where this conversation would lead, a fight between the two boys most likely. Her gaze shifted to JJ who seemed annoyed at the Routledge boy’s words.

“You know what, I should’ve let Topper drown your ass.” John B laughed. “Topper was gonna drown me?” “Sure looked like it.”

“Boys can you plea-” Y/n tried to stop the small bickers, miserably failing as her brother interrupted her. “Funny.” A loud sigh escaped the girl’s lips and Kiara beside her pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Have you looked in a mirror?” “Tell me some more. Come on.” “They always win don’t they, man?”

“Kooks versus pogues. They always, always win!” You could hear the frustration dripping from his voice. Which was understandable. He had a point, kooks always won, it was time for a change.

“Goddamn!” “Look, it’s okay!” Kie tried to reassure him. “No, it’s not okay!”

“He’s right,” agreed y/n. “They always win, or find a way to avoid the consequences.”

“Exactly, they don’t want us to go down into the marsh, that means there's something valuable down there and you know it.” He said to John B. “I know you do.”

“And I understand why you wouldn’t want to go,” he pointed to Pope. “You’re the golden boy, you got way too much to risk. And you,” he turned to Kiara. “I mean you’re already rich as fuck anyway.” Okay, that was an exaggeration.

“Why would you bother.”

“But us, you, me and y/n, we’ve got nothing to lose!” His eyes glowed with something y/n hadn’t seen in him in a long time. Hope. It made her sad to think about how JJ really had nothing in his life besides the pogues. But if he was hopeful, then maybe, maybe...

“We really don’t.” “Yes, we do have something to lose.”

“If something goes wrong and dcs comes in, y/n and I would be brought to the mainland in foster care. That means placed with families who probably only care about the check that comes in every month and her and I getting separated from one another and from you guys.”

Y/n thought about what her brother had just said. He had a point, if things went wrong, they could lose everything. Each other mainly and the pogues. It was the worst-case scenario. But if they didn’t get caught, it would make their life so much better. Was it worth all the risk though? That was the question.

“Do you understand what that means? How horrible it would be?” The girl got up from her seat and went to stand next to her brother. “I do,” she said. “I understand, bird.”

“I know that you’re scared and so am I. It’s a pretty big risk. If we get caught, we’re fucked, but listen to what JJ has to say. I think that it might be worth the risk. And if we do get caught-,” she put her hand on his shoulder and turned him around so that he faced her, “we’ll find a way to find each other again. We’re Routledges, we always find a way to solve our problems, don’t we?” Her hand squeezed his shoulder softly. “We’re gonna be alright, bird.”

A small smile drew itself on John B’s lips. “So, what’s the plan,” he said to JJ.

“You got the key to Cameron’s big boat, right?” “No,” J. B’s face scrunched in disagreement.

“There’s scuba gear. We borrow that and then we go down to the wreck this afternoon and that’s what’s gonna save you, man,” exclaimed JJ. “You don’t see rich kids going into foster care, do you?”

Y/n breathed out loudly. She was scared as hell. This was going to be pretty tricky, but she knew something was down there. And if it wasn’t money or something like that, then it was something related to her dad’s disappearance. She could feel it deep into her soul.

>>>

“This is empty, you took empty tanks,” announced Kiara to the group as she furrowed through the bag of oxygen tanks.

Y/n put her head in her hands. Their plan had seemed so perfect and now they didn’t have the one thing they needed for it to work.

“Okay this one’s a quarter full. It’s enough for one of us.” “Love it when a plan comes together.”

“Does anybody know how to dive?” asked the brunette but only to be answered by a chorus of shrugs and denying nods. “Anybody?”

“It’s kind of a kook sport,” JJ looked at her.

“I, … I read about it,” tried Pope.

“Great, Pope read about it, now someone’s gonna die,” exclaimed Kie dramatically.

“Look.” JJ’s gaze circled the group of friends. “You put the thing in your mouth and you breathe. How hard can it be?”

“I don’t think it’s that simple,” confessed y/n.

“Yeah,” agreed Pope. “If you come up too fast, Nitrogen gets in your blood and you get the bends.”

The girl’s eyes widened. She remembered a book she had read a while ago where one of the characters had the decompression sickness (and how tragic their death was).

“Bends like bend over?” JJ joked as he bent his body in a way to stick his butt up in the air. Typical JJ joke, weird and somehow always a bit sexual. Y/n slapped his arm as a way to tell him off.

“JJ, the bends is deadly,” she had a stern expression, “it kills you.” “Oh, right.”

“I can- I can dive,” announced J.B. “Yeah, you can dive I’m cool with that.” “Since when can you dive?”

“No, you can’t dive,” scoffed his sister. “I’ll do it, it’s fine.” “What? The hell?”

“Let’s do some calculations real quick.” Pope pulled out a pen and started writing some numbers. Y/n got up from her seat and went to stand beside him. “So, that boat’s about 30 feet down.” “okay.” “So, it’ll take about 25 minutes at most at that depth.” “Twenty-five.” “Which means you need to make your safety stop at about... 10 feet. Alright? For two minutes.” “Ten feet, two minutes got it.”

They all watched as Kiara jumped straight into the water, her shirt already removed. “Uh, what was that all about?” “I don’t know, but I liked it, a lot.” y/n nudged her brother on the shoulder to get him to stop staring. He cleared his throat.

“Uh, so.” “All righty.”

She sat down on the edge of the boat, waiting for her friend to resurface from underwater. “Yeah. Uh, when you- when you’re down there, you look for the cargo hold. You stick this thing inside and you twist and pull, okay,” explained JJ. “Stick it in, twist and pull.”

“You okay?” asked y/n, while the boys kept on rambling. “Needed a swim?” Kiara rolled her eyes, a small smile on her face.

“Hey!” she called to guys, John b more specifically. “I tied my t-shirt to the anchor about ten feet down. It’s where you need to do your safety stop.”

The Routledge girl admired her friend in the water. Her body moving gracefully as she swam back towards the boat. She seemed so, at ease. It used to be that way for her too, but now, even looking into the darkest part of the water gave her a feeling of vertigo. She wondered if she could still swim as good as she used to. It had been almost a year since the last time she had dove right into the marsh. It felt so far away. If only she was braver.

She hadn’t realised she had completely zoned out until she heard JJ speak. “Zen. Think Zen, you know.” She joined the group on the other side of the hms, her brother already suited for his dive.

“Hey, if we get caught out here in the marsh we’re basically screwed, so,” reminded Pope, “better get a move on.” “Copy that.”

Kiara got up and planted a small kiss on J. B’s cheek. Y/n looked at the two boys next to her with a confused expression. They both shrugged in answer, clearly just as confused as she was. “Diver down?” “Diver down.” She watched as his figure disappeared slowly into the water.

“All right.” “See ya, dude.”

She went to sit next to Kie. “I only love him as a brother,” she mocked her friend. “Yeah right, my ass.”

“It’s just a small kiss y/n/n, it doesn’t mean anything. I still mean what I said yesterday. It’s just that,” she took a pause, her eyes squinting at the sun, “I’m just worried for him, you know he’s going through a lot and then there’s the shipwreck and all.”

“Uh huh, I totally get what you mean,” ironized y/n. “Shut up,” Kie nudged her with her elbow. “No, but seriously-” started the girl before being interrupted by the sound of a police siren behind her.

“Shit, guys.” “Guys, that’s the police.”

“Oh no, no, no, no, no, that is not good. Not good at all.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” “Yep that’s the police.” “Just act fricking normal.”

Anxiety bubbled at the pit of y/n’s stomach. Hopefully he wouldn’t recognize her, otherwise she was dead. So dead. She sat down beside Kiara in a somewhat natural position, her legs crossed to keep them from bouncing.

The police boat parked itself beside the hms. Officer Shoupe behind the wheel. “Evenin’ officers,” greeted Pope. “Evening.”

“How you kids doin’ ,” asked Shoupe. “You know the marsh is closed.”

“No.” “No.” “No, wow.” “I didn’t know that.” They all feigned ignorance, hoping to fool the two adults. “Why- why is it closed?” questioned Pope, adjusting his cap nervously.

“Well, we’re conducting a search out here,” informed the man. “Boat went down.” “Oh.” “Oh, no.”

“Seen’ anything?” asked the deputy.

“No.” “No, boats. No.” Y/n’s fingers tapped rhythmically on the boat, trying to keep herself from looking at her brother in the water.

“Where’s your friend you always hang with?” The pace of the rhythm fastened. “He here?” She opened her mouth, trying to think of a good excuse for the missing presence of her brother, but nothing came out.

“He’s working,” lied Kie. All of their heads nodded softly.

“I’m gonna check your little boat out,” announced Shoupe before hopping on the hms. “Yeah.” “Yeah, hop aboard.” The rhythm stopped, y/n’s nails digging into her palms.

He picked up a safety jacket. “You got another one of these?” “Yeah, yeah.”

“Of course, it’s uh, it’s in the hold,” JJ pointed to where the girls were seated. They both got up quickly. “Show him,” instructed Kie. Y/n’s joints were turning white.

“Okay.” JJ opened the hold and pulled out one of the jackets. “Yeah, here we go.” “All right.” The latch closed loudly. Shoupe’s gaze inspected the teens suspiciously. The tension could be cut with a knife.

He climbed on the flat part of the boat. “Be careful.” “Be careful out there, you don’t want to slip.”

He put his sunglasses on, staring at the exact place where John B and the ship were. The pogues exchanged worried glances. Hopefully, he wouldn’t see anything. He stood on the very edge of the boat, his figure towering over the water of the marsh.

“All right,” he finally turned around. Y/n breathed again. “All right.” “All right.”

“Beautiful day, innit?” “Sure is.”

“You let us know if you see anything on your way out,” he ordered as he started the engine. “Will do, will do.”

“We’ll be gone soon, sir.” “Yes, you will,” finally said the man before he vogued away.

Once he was far enough, the group hurried to the side of the boat, all worried about their friend. He’d been under for quite a long time now, there was no way he had any air left.

“He’s definitely out of air,” declared Pope.

At that exact moment, John B surged out of the water. Y/n felt relief take over her body. She felt her whole body unclench and let go of the grip her nails had in her hand.

“There he is!” Exclaimed JJ. “Oh god, Jesus Christ.”

“God damn it, Bird. I’m so glad you’re okay,” spoke y/n.

“Don’t scare us like that!” All of the pogues exclaimed, all so happy that their friend was all right.

“How’d it go down there?” wondered JJ. “Uh,” John b groaned and his sister hurried to the side of the boat to help him get in.

“Did you find anything?”

“Did I find anything?” He repeated throwing a large duffel bag onto the boat.

“Yeah there we go, that’s my boy!” JJ exclaimed excitedly.

“Are you okay?” Y/n asked as he coughed rather loudly. “Yeah, I’m good, but I ran out of air.” Her eyebrows scrunched together on her forehead. God, they were so lucky, what if J.B had ran out of air earlier? Or what if Shoupe had figured out what they were doing? Things could have gotten so bad.

But they didn’t, the girl reminded herself.

“You scared the shit out of me,” confessed Kiara, though it sounded more like a reproach.

“Yeah, same for me,” replied y/n. “Need a hand?” she stuck her hand out at him which he gladly took. The contact of the water with the cuts her nails had made in her hands burned, but she clenched her jaw and ignored the pain. She didn’t want to bother anyone.

“Yeah, the cops were up here but uh, took care of ‘em,” informed Pope.

“My bad.” “You’re all good.” “Yeah, you kinda missed the show, brother.”

“Hey guys?” Kiara’s voice was tinted with worry. “Guys, bogey, two o-clock.”

“What?” They all turned in the direction she was referring to. In the distance they noticed a strange looking boat heading towards them.

“Do you recognize that boat?”

“I’ve never seen it.” Kie put her hand above her eyes to hide herself from the sun. “What are they doing back here? The marsh is closed.”

“Honestly, they could ask us the same thing,” pointed y/n.

“Well, I think it would be better if we didn’t stick around and find out,” said JJ.

“JJ, get the bowline.” “Yeah.”

“Should we wait on ‘em?” asked Pope.

“Uh, I don’t think that would be a great idea,” responded y/n. The boat was coming in very fast and the people driving it looked angry and dangerous. It was much safer to just leave. “Go get the stern, go!” Hurried John B.

The blonde pulled the rope as fast as he possibly could. “Guys, don’t wait for me. Go,” he said. Y/n inspected the unknown boat in the distance, nothing about it seemed familiar. Who could these people be? And what did they want from them? “Let’s go.”

She kept her eyes glued to it as the motor started. “I have a really bad feeling about this,” she confessed, turning her head to John B. behind the wheel. “Yeah, I don’t like this either,” agreed Pope.

“Are they coming for us?” asked JJ. “Sure looks like it.”

“Maybe they’re fishing?” proposed Pope. Y/n’s gaze paused on the two men. They were intimidating, to say the least. And their eyes, both had looks filled with something threatening. It wasn’t anger or hatred, no, it was the eyes of people who would do anything to get what they wanted and that was scary.

“Go, go, go, go!” “Go into the marsh.” “Let’s go!”

“I’m going. Act natural,” stated John B as he directed the hms towards the nearest channel.

The white boat sped up, the motor roaring loudly. “Hey guys, they’re following us,” announced y/n. “Oh, this can’t be good.” “Shit”

“Dude, you gotta go faster!” “I’m going!” “Gun it!”

The sound of a gun shooting in the air echoed in the silence of the marsh. The pogues all went down instinctively. “Holy shit, guys!” “Oh my fucking god, what the fuck!”

JJ grabbed the back of y/n’s shirt with his hand, bringing her closer to him. “John b get down!” almost hissed the girl. Another shot fired, y/n clung onto JJ.

“Oh my god, we’re gonna die!” yelled Pope. A third shot fired. Y/n’s eyes caught the net at the back of the boat and an idea sparked in her head. She looked at Kiara, who clearly had thought of the same thing.

“Pope, move,” ordered the brunette as her friend stood to go grab the green net. Another shot flew into the air beside her, the bullet barely missing her.

“Get down, y/n!” shouted her brother desperately. She headed towards the back of the boat and threw the net into the water. It slid down the current and got caught right into the motor of the men’s boat, making the engine come to a halt abruptly. It clanged loudly and the two men shouted in anger. A sigh of relief left the girl’s lips. Her plan had worked.

“Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!” hurried Pope. A last gunshot was heard but the hms was too far away to be reached.

“Oh my god!” “Whew!” The pogues all cheered and laughed at their small victory. They were all so glad to be away from these men and all in one piece. Kiara pulled y/n into a hug.

“Y/n, don’t you ever do something like that again. You fucking scared the crap out of me,” said John B as they approached the dock of the château. “I can’t promise anything. Who knows when someone else will shoot at us?”

They all hurried themselves onto the dock, excited to know the content of the bag. “What do you guys think it is?” “Maybe it’s like jewelry? Would be a weird place to keep it but who knows?” “Gotta be money, right?”

“That or a couple of keys with street value to the low- to mid-mils!” JJ’s eyes glistened with excitement. Y/n smiled softly.

“Can we please just open the bag?” burst Pope. The group all started at him.

“Wow Pope,” y/n giggled. “That was a rare outburst of emotions.”

“You guys are literally killing me with anticipation. Open the bag. We almost died over this.”

John B. pulled out a smaller bag which contained a metal canister. Every pair of eyes was fixed onto it as he pried it open and revealed a compass. Y/n kneeled next to her brother not believing what she was seeing. They exchanged a look, neither of them saying anything. They both knew what that object was and what it meant to their father, but what the hell was it doing there?

“Oh, wow. Yup, that’s about right.” Pope was clearly disappointed by their findings. “Good job, everybody. We found a compass.” Y/n raised a trembling hand to the compass, carefully taking it into her own hands to examine it. Was this really what she thought it was? How could it be? It didn’t make any sense.

JJ removed his hat in frustration. “Dude, what? It’s not worth anything.”

A small smile creeped on Jonh b’s face, his eyes still not looking away from the compass. “This was,” he started.

“This was our father’s,” completed y/n.

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yurtletheturtlehenderson · 5 years ago

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S.T. REWRITE - S2:E8; Chapter Eight, The Mind Flayer - [Pt. 2]

A Will Byers x Reader Series

An unlikely hero steps forward when a deadly development puts the Hawkins Lab on lockdown, trapping Will and several others inside.

||3rd Person POV||

The once pristine and orderly lab had become a desolate wasteland in a matter of minutes. Blood painted the walls and bodies were scattered among the labyrinth of halls. Buckled down in the heart of Hawkins Lab, Owens scatters a map, pen in hand. The others quickly close in around him as he draws out their escape plan.

"Look, this is us," he circles a corner on the map. "and this is the nearest exit. But even if we somehow make it there, there's no way out."

Hopper's brow furrows, his grip on the flashlight grows subconsciously tighter. "What do you mean?"

"The locks are fail-secure."

"Fail secure?" Joyce asks.

"If there's a power outage," Owens says, looking around at the confused faces. "the building goes on lockdown."

"Can it be unlocked remotely?" Bob asks.

"With a computer, sure, but somebody's gotta reset the breakers."

Hopper inches closer, growing ever restless. "Where are the breakers?"

"Breakers are in the basement," Owens returns to the map. "three floors down."

Not wasting another moment, Hopper spins on his heel and stomps for the door.

"Hey, where are you going?" Bob calls after him.

Hopper gives him an incredulous look. "To reset the breakers."

Bob scoffs worriedly. "Okay, then what?"

"Then we get out of here."

"No, then the power comes back on. If you wanna unlock the doors you have to reboot the computer system, and then override the security codes with a manual input."

"Fine," Hopper sighs. "How do I do that?"

It's Bob's turn to look incredulous. "You can't. Not unless you know BASIC."

"I don't know what that means," Hopper asks shortly, growing increasingly stressed.

"It's a computer programming language," Mike replies, jumping in.

"Teach it to me,"

Bob scoffed shortly, dawning an uncharacteristic mocking tone. "Shall I teach you French, while I'm at it, Jim? How about a little German?"

Everyone listens, taken aback at his unusual behavior and the man turns to Owens.

"How about you, doc?" He asks, growing urgent. "You speak BASIC?"

Sheepishly, he shakes his head, suddenly finding the floor particularly interesting. "No."

Dreading the answer, Bob reluctantly accepts and scoffs nervously, nodding his head.

"Okay, I got this," he mutters nervously, turning to Hopper repeating the words more assured. "I've got this."

"No," Joyce's voice cracks, and she envelops Bob in a worried hug. "Bob."

"It's okay," Bob gratefully accepts the tender hug before looking into her eyes. "It's gonna be okay. Remember, Bob Newby, superhero."

||Reader's POV||

We carry on over another small hill through the trees and the pads of my feet, ironically enough, feel as if they are on fire. I keep glancing at my shoes for any sign of distress even though I know it's because I've been walking all day. And truthfully, I'm unsure how much more walking I can take.

I let out my umpteenth sigh, keeping my eyes trained on where Steve is stepping to avoid tripping on any more roots. Another side effect of walking all day, my reflexes have dulled considerably.

"How much longer?" I ask.

Steve huffs, using the bat to swipe away some low hanging branches in our path. "Jesus, if one more of you shits ask me that again,"

"Sorry, you're majesty!" I groan sarcastically, throwing my head back briefly in frustration no doubt earning a few surprised glances.

I'm able to see the clouds of branches above us sway in the wind, parting ever so to reveal the inky night sky and I calm significantly. My anger dissolves a bit, enough to feel a small pang of guilt for snapping at Steve. Especially since he was helping Dustin, and all of us, actually.

I look back down at the forest floor, a tad embarrassed.

"Sorry, really," I mumble, and I catch Steve's hardened glare soften a bit over his shoulder. "It's just,"

I pause, glancing back at the night sky once more, and I feel another soft gust of wind snake through the trees and hit my face and I feel soothed. The stars always had a way of calming me. It awes me, something about the vastness of it all, and just how complex and simple it all was, all at once.

Reassured, I continue. "My feet are killing, and the junkyard took a lot out of me. You've been super helpful, so it's not fair to you to-"

"Shut up," He hisses, suddenly.

"What?"

"I said, shut up," he repeats, voice lowered and eyes focused ahead.

I look to the others, Max merely shrugs with an odd look, Lucas readies the wrist rocket and Dustin seems to be the only one the honed in on the situation.

I fall silent, my ears straining and I'm able to make out a familiar voice over the rustling of the trees as Steve pulls away at more branches.

"Who's there?" It calls. "Who's there?!"

Steve is the first to break through the woods and we all pool out at his side. One of the first things I notice is a security booth and a familiar car parked beside. It takes me a moment to identify the two figures across the clearing, but the moment it registers, they speak, confirming my suspicions.

"Steve?" They ask in perfect unison.

"Nancy?" Steve asks.

Nancy and Jonathan stand across the small stretch of grass, and I can't help a confused smile.

"Jonathan?" I break out into a brisk walk, ignoring my aching feet and the duo makes their way towards us. "Nancy!"

"Y/n?"

"It's so good to see you!" I give Jonathan a quick side hug, relieved to see the familiar face of a Byers. "What are you guys doing here?"

I pull back, smiling at them both but it quickly deflates when I think of Will. I look to Jonathan worriedly.

"How's Will?"

I can hear the others making their way towards us, but I'm more focused on the unusual behavior. He begins shifting on his feet, his previous look of confusion towards me and my unfamiliar garb melted away into that of concern.

"We're looking for him, and Mike." He gestures to Nancy and glances at Dustin and Lucas. "Wait, they aren't with you guys?"

None of us have time to answer before a string of hideous screeching echoes out from the lab.

An all too familiar pit burrows in my stomach, I can feel it taking root at the new information. Will couldn't go missing again, he just couldn't. But if the Upside Down was involved, which I know for a fact it is, then it can't be good.

||3rd Person POV||

A golden yellow beam of light bounces down the stairwell in tune with Bob's ragged breathing and the squeak of his shoes against the polished stairs. His heart is racing wildly, and never once did he imagine he would ever find himself racing through Hawkins Lab, gun in hand, to escape an infestation of interdimensional monsters. Heck, he couldn't he even picture himself with a gun! Good thing Jim was able to give him at least somewhat of breakdown on how to use one, and for now that would have to do.

But he reminds himself of the danger, the danger Joyce and the others as well as himself. He reaches the basement and almost instantly he is enveloped in a blanket of steam from the heaters, and the poor lighting gives off the illusion he has been swallowed by a thick layer of smog. It does nothing to ease the sweat percolating on his skin no more than the distant beeps of the alarm echo in his mind serving as a harsh reminder.

He stalks carefully through the mist, checking his corners to the best of his ability for his first time and he can feel every nerve stand on edge. It's only proven by the shaky beam of light streaming through his flashlight.

A harsh and sudden hiss goes off above his head and he nearly jumps out of his skin. The gun and light come to aim shakily at the source of the noise and he feels the wave of relief crash over him as he sees it's merely a pipe, clouds of steam pooling from a small valve.

He takes a long deep breath, his aim returning to his path.

"Keep it together, Bob." He mumbles.

It's not much longer before he finds himself at the breaker room, and he is relieved when he hears the click of the door as it swings open unlocked. But it vanishes almost as soon and he jumps when his flashlight finds the bloodied remains of two bodies on the floor.

Bob does his best to collect his gasps, but he finds it a difficult ordeal. His grip on his flashlight, and his gun, tighten and he is sure to shut the door behind him before stepping further into the room. It's quiet and unnaturally still apart from the blood pumping in his ears, it only grows worse as he navigates around the fallen men. Finally, he turns the corner finding at long last what he had risked his life for. The breakers.

Labeled on a plastic tag, the words, MAIN POWER caught his eye and he knew for sure he was in the right place.

"Okay, here we go,"

Taking a deep breath, he flips the first switch and he is suddenly bathed in light. It's not long before it spreads throughout the entire lab. With every lever he pulls, the lab steadily comes to life, including the surveillance room.

The others perk up when the florescence flicker on above their heads. Mike is the first to step up to the monitors as each screen comes to life. At its center, the breakers in the basement where Bob Newby stands.

||Reader's POV||

"What do you mean? Haven't you-?"

"I haven't seen him, or Mike since Friday!" I plea.

Everything was a mess, everyone had begun talking over each other in a big huddle and no one could get a clear word in edgewise. That is until Nancy broke free from the circle.

"The power's back!"

My eyes fall past the gate and treeline to see that she's right, the building had lit up completely.

I quickly fall in line with the others and it's as if a small race broke out for who could get to the security booth first. Jonathan did, and he wasted no time hitting the button. I could hear the rapid clicking from where I stood at the front of the car, and I quickly looked to the gate expectantly.

Nothing happens.

The clicking continues and we all watched confused and increasingly worried as it remains perfectly still.

Another screech echoes in the distance and I can feel my anxiety blossom from the pit in my stomach. I begin subconsciously bouncing on the balls of my heels and I look around at the others for any ideas.

"Guys...?"

I meet eyes with Dustin and he looks as if he's grown ever more impatient, and my anxious state is his final sign. He kicks into gear, heading for the booth.

"Let me try--"

"Hang on--" Jonathan tries.

He's cut off by Dustin who weakly shoves him back with a frustrated whine. "Let me try, Jonathan!"

I watch deflated as my brother does nothing but wear out the button, and I roll my eyes with a deep breath. I feel a pair of eyes on me, and I look to find Max glancing at me out of the corner of her eye, concerned. She looks away when she knows she's been caught. I look down at my hands and realize not only am I rocking back and forth on my heels but I'm also desperately wringing my hands.

I note the silence in the air, I look back at Dustin who watches the gate expectantly, an exasperated Jonathan standing behind him. The silence lasts not a moment longer before Dustin begins shouting.

"Well, son of a bitch! You know what..." he grumbles, returning to the button with even more fervor.

I try to calm myself the best of my ability, taking slow deep breaths but it only helps so much. My eyes return to the sight of the lab, and I can't help but fear what lies ahead.

+++

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crimsonbluemoon · 5 years ago

Note

4 , 2 and 8 for the prompts and H2OVanoss :)

Okay this took way too long. >.

AU: MafiaTrope: Enemies to loversPrompt: “wait, wait. say that again. please.”

Pairing: H2O Vanoss

Warning: Slight gore/violence cause its mafia and shit.

“Where the hell did they get this many guys?” Vanoss swore when he ducked behind another box, hearing wood bursting from the bullets that shot through the warehouse. His eyes scanned the area, checking on the status of his gang. Basically’s arm was bleeding through the bandage that Moo had wrapped around it, proving the wound was far worse than his right-hand man wanted to admit.

“Bigger question; why aren’t they shooting at you?” Wildcat’s swear was louder than the fight, jumping up to pepper the other crew with bullets. Despite his aggressive attack, Vanoss knew the grim truth; they’d been ambushed. It was meant to be a simple deal, and Vanoss hadn’t thought the smaller gang was a threat. That’d been why he left most of his men back at the hideout; they were mid-investigating a mysterious gang that had recently showed up on the west side of the city.

But apparently, from the grins of the west side gang now surrounding the warehouse, the smaller gang had chosen a side. And it wasn’t Vanoss’s.

“I can’t get a signal out to the guys; they must have a jammer with them.” Marcel’s voice was strained, almost on the side of hopeless.

“Shit!” This time it was pain that snapped in Wildcat’s shout, and red pooled from his side from the bullet’s contact.

“What’s the plan, Vanoss?” Moo’s voice shook, and Vanoss gritted his teeth at his own stupidity. He didn’t have a plan. They weren’t going to get out of this alive at this rate. The set up was too simple, why hadn’t he picked up on the classic bait-and-switch-

“Need some help?” Vanoss jerked his head at the voice above him, eyes wide when seeing the crazy smile shining from the rafters.

“Delirious?” A gun was twirled in the air before a whistle shot through the air, and the visual of men dropping from the rafters was breath-taking. The show caught the other gang off guard, leaving them helpless to the spray of bullets rained down on them. Cartoonz laughed while he dropped down with ease Vanoss knew wasn’t faked, aiming his shots into the lackey’s foreheads. Anyone who aimed their guns at Cartoonz dropped like flies in seconds. A shift on a higher beam and a flash of a grey blindfold proving their sniper, Ohmwrecker, was not letting Cartoonz get hurt. Overwhelming the troops from behind, Squirrel and Gorilla were trading witty barbs while they took on the grunts on the ground. Blood splashed over their clothes from the deadly assault.

“Hey there, Owl-man.” And in the middle of the chaotic fray was their leader. Delirious was known for his crazy antics, and his ruthlessness was almost as crucial to his personality as his unpredictability. Delirious and his motley crew were on nobody’s side but their own, and the crazed clown could decide to attack any crew he felt deserved it over breakfast. Vanoss had been on the wrong side of Delirious’s switchblade a few times in earlier years, especially when Vanoss’s crew had first started in the east bay. Delirious always had tricks up his sleeve, tampering with guns or ruinings trades between rival gangs just to get under Vanoss’s skin. They’d even fought once, both of their gangs simply watching their leaders beat the shit out of each other. Vanoss still remembered the unusual rush of heat in his stomach at the bloody smile Delirious had worn after the scuffle. The feeling had lingered long after the sprained wrist and bruised ribs.

Vanoss didn’t really know what Delirious thought of him. The anger and hatred from before was long gone. They didn’t fight every time they met anymore. In fact, Vanoss realized Delirious and his crew had started hanging around his own more, and the duo tended to warn the other when they planned to make a move of power or started a turf war with another gang. Once, Cartoonz had saved Terroriser from getting jumped, and Panda returned the favor after Squirrel stumbled into the wrong neighborhood without his piece. Neither tried to encroach on the other’s territory anymore, despite it sharing many lines in the city. When Delirious snuck into Vanoss’s office at night ‘out of boredom’ at his hangout, Evan didn’t worry about his life as much as he once did. Sure, he still didn’t know Delirious or any of his gang’s actual names. Evan also didn’t share his own, keeping a barrier between them. Still, he never felt the twitching need to grab the gun he had strapped on his thigh, no matter how close the two sat in the darkness of the night.

“What are you doing here?” Vanoss asked, Delirious scanning behind Vanoss before he aimed his gun at the fray of men trying to run away.

“Got a tip.” Three easy shots took out two of the men, while the final shot was shifted to blow out the final grunt’s knee. Looking gleeful at the explosion of blood, Delirious shucked the gun over his shoulder, the strap keeping it close to his back. Then his blue eyes bore back down at Vanoss, his laugh growing at Vanoss’s scowl. “Said a bird might have been set up.”

“We were doing fine without-”

“Ohm, get out of your damn nest and bring the first aid kit. This kid’s hurt.” Cartoonz’s voice cut off Vanoss’s protest, the older gang member helping Brock move Marcel to a flat surface.

“This one, too.” Gorilla had his hand over Tyler’s side, keeping pressure and an even keel voice. “But I think the brats are both gonna live.”

“We’re not brats,” Basically grumbled, his hiss loud after Cartoonz smacked the side of his head. “Ow, hey! What the hell?”

“I think you were in diapers when I shot my first gun.” Vanoss watched Cartoonz and Basically started to bicker as Ohm rushed over with his kit, Brock’s face panicked while trying to stop the fight. He only let his attention linger for a moment before turning back to Delirious, who had already moved to the man he’d left bleeding out in the entrance of the warehouse. Surprised at how silent the other leader had been in his movements, Evan moved after him, wondering why he’d left the last man alive.

“-so if you like that particular part of your body attached, you’ll tell me why they’re after Vanoss.” He caught the tail end of the playful threat from Delirious, the knife weaving in and out of his fingers in obvious meaning.

“No-not trying to kill him!” Fear that Delirious had earned was filling the wounded grunt’s words. “Kill his people!”

“Who wants my guys dead? What do they gain from that? And why would they want to kill my people, but not me?” Vanoss asked, picking up on the avoidance of the man’s eyes.

“Their plan…” The hesitation of the sentence made Delirious growl, kicking into the ribs of the man once with his steel boots.

“Spill your shit or your dick is mine!” Evan wanted to point out how stupid the comment sounded (was he trying to threaten or seduce?), but another hit finally parted the other’s lips.

“He wants Vanoss as his!” Gasping, it took a few shaky breaths for the man to continue. “Thinks if he…isolates him, kills his gang…he’ll own Vanoss, take him in. From some guy named Jonathan. ‘Own the Owl-man’ or something like that.”

The twitch of Delirious’s shoulders and the long silence sent a chill down Vanoss’s spine.

“Wait, wait. Say that again.” There was a murderous edge in Delirious’s eyes when he stepped onto the bleeding knee of the other man. His smile took a twisted darker edge hearing the man’s whimpers, then added pressure. “Please.”

“Delirious.” Vanoss didn’t know why the focus on his life made the other’s normally light-hearted nature fizzle out so fast, or why it squeezed around his heart. “He’s gonna go unconscious-”

“If you pass out, I’ll chop you up and feed you to your family. I’ll make sure they know every piece, every bite, is you. Tell me exactly what he said.” Gone was the goofy threats and half-fumbled words; here was the man that made even the strongest of gangsters quiver. People thought that Cartoonz really ran the gang, and that Delirious was simply too distracted or unsure to keep the strong men under his control. Vanoss once thought that, too; Cartoonz tended to snap at Delirious and give far more sass in the few interactions Vanoss had seen than he thought a right hand man should.

But in these moments, the ones where only people Delirious trusted or weren’t long for this earth got to see, Delirious was death incarnate.

“Said…said ‘I want Jonathan know I’m here. I wan to own his Owl-man’. He didn’t say who Jonathan was or-or what he had to do with Vanoss, but-that’s all, I swear.” Delirious watched the grunt squirm on the floor without emotion, his eyes unfocused with a haunted look that made Vanoss swallow. A heartbeat later, Delirious had his gun in his hand, no hesitation in his face when blowing the other’s brains out. One shot became two, and Evan stared helplessly as several more were launched into the twitching corpses’s mutilated face. Delirious’s gun ran out from how many times he shot, and even still he tried to shoot.

“Delirious.” Softly, Vanoss moved forward, hand hesitant to curl over the hand that kept pulling the trigger. “You can stop. He’s dead.”

“He’s not.” Somehow, Vanoss knew they weren’t talking about the same he. Once vacant, the blue of Delirious’s eyes blazed with overwhelming anger, eyes slowly turning to Evan. Rage was there, but deeper, Vanoss could see something possessive break the hostility. “But he will be.”

Unsure how to process the statement, Vanoss didn’t speak, watching Delirious shrug off his hold and stalked back into the warehouse. Slowly, Vanoss turned his eyes back down to the body bleeding out by his feet. He wasn’t sure who was after him, or why, but it seemed Delirious did. And he’d taken it personally, though Vanoss didn’t know why.

But he planned to find out.

#Anonymous #OTP boys #H2O Vanoss #H2O Delirious #Vanossgaming #<3 #Crimson drabblez

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haqita-kimoji · 4 years ago

Text

Darts of Pleasure - Chapter 2 - Reel Her In

Pairing: Levi Ackerman x Original Character (Sophie Poulain)

Genre: Romance, light fluff

Warnings: Manga spoilers, s4 spoilers, don’t read when you’re not updated with the latest anime episode

Word count: 1.8k words

a/n: I feel my writing is amateur-ish at best hence any feedback is very much welcomed. Posted on wattpad and AO3 as well.

Chapter 2: Reel Her In

Dinner in the mess hall was meatloaf, a gravy-soaked concoction that did not taste like meat or resemble a loaf, a bowl of mushroom soup, and garlic bread. Levi had speared a slice of meat with his fork and raised them to just below his chin, but then seemed to forget about them as his gaze fell to Sophie. He'd forgotten he was eating, he had yet taken a single bite of his dinner until the meatloaf nearly slides off the fork. Listening to Hange talk on and on while stealing glances to Sophie, he'd watched full of curiously at her interacting with the other Marleyan soldiers.

When Hange would pause in her monologue, she would raise her eyebrows at his fork and lifted her chin suggesting him to take a bite. Levi would merely sigh, rolled his eyes, shoveled them in his mouth and chewed with an expression asking: Why do humans go through the dreary process of digesting food? Hange knew her friend well, she noticed his poor attempt of concealing his glances at the Marleyan table. She crossed her arms beneath her chest and kicked at his shin playfully to get his attention.

"What?" Levi asked.

"You got to reel her in you know, be subtle about it." Hange suddenly said to encourage him, her lips curved into a smile. "It's that bit of nuance you know." Hange began to share her input on the matters of love with a monotonous Levi who stayed silent throughout. Hange insisted that he should strike a conversation with her but talk only about the most mundane things, the weather, the local Marleyan cuisine and culture, anything that would give him an opportunity to communicate while utilizing the silent but deadly language of eye contact.

Levi's face stayed stoic. The truth was, other boys were not as powerful as Levi when it comes down to fighting titans with the ODM gears and hand-on-hand combat, but they were more skillful at asking girls out because what they lacked had taught them persistence. Whereas Levi had never even entertained the infatuation from any pursuer. Levi's skills with the ODM gears had left him dry on tricks, and in misery, he merely sighed at Hange and her advice.

"Levi!" Hange shrieked, awakening him to his senses.

"Yes," Levi replied, swirling the mushroom soup with the garlic bread.

"Wow, you must really like her huh? She got you all tongue-tied," Hange moved her eyebrows playfully, then made a quick glance to Sophie. Oh fuck, Levi thought to himself, even Hange has started to notice how wary he is around the mess halls.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Levi announced, hissing almost.

"Levi, if you want to befriend her, you've got to start by actually talking to her. I think you know what you've got to do," Hange ventured, teasingly taking a slice of his garlic bread she'd hope he won't notice.

"Yeah," Levi looked down to his bowl of mushroom soup, his lips pursed. Hange merely looked to his friend, speechless, indeed Levi was a man of few words. Most people would not know but Levi was a shy person. To even talk to someone he was mildly attracted to would require a lot of courage and planning on his part.

Somehow the stars aligned for Levi that night and the opportunity arose, both Eren and Jean started to shout and wrestle each other in the middle of the mess hall. Jean aimed for a body slam in the midsection whereas Eren went for the crazed punch to the head. At the last moment, Jean reached one hand out and hit Eren by the jaw. Eren spit out the blood and with his leg, swept Jean's feet out from under him. As expected of the other soldiers, both Paradis and Marleyan started to form a circle between the two and cheered them on.

Any other day, Levi would intervene and stop the fight. But that night, he noticed Sophie was away from her squad trying to catch a glimpse of the fight and he figured it was the best opportunity to approach her. Levi stood up and lingered nearby, planning meticulously in his head how to execute his plan. Taking a deep breath, he left his seat and walked to the cheering crowd. Three times his heart jumped at the decoys of other petite girls he walked past.

A few more stride and he saw Sophie on her tip-toes, her eyebrows furrowed curiously to view the fight. Levi found himself staring at her with a concentration so focused everyone else ceased to exist. A fuzzy aura surrounded her, probably due to so much blood draining out of Levi's head. He looked back to his table at Hange knowing she was observing his move, indeed Hange grinned at him while raising her cup of beer to wish him luck.

Levi took a deep breath and walked towards her, his pace slowing as he halted to a stop beside her. Sophie was unaware of Levi and was more enamored of the ongoing action, to her it was Eren, the founding and attack titan performing hand-on-hand combat hence it was a big deal even if everything was in good fun. Even though Levi avoided looking at her, it was no use, he felt Sophie beside him, registered her body temperature, heartbeat and respiration rate. He also noticed hay sticking by the bottom hem of her grey slack, she must have been to the stable that day.

Right then it happened, Jean tried to finish off with a body punch that entered cartoonishly far into Eren's gut. The room rippled louder with laughter and cheering. It was then that Sophie noticed the figure beside him, Levi Ackerman, with a stoic monotonous face, he looked clearly unamused with the ongoing commotion. She swallowed a lump on her throat, nervous at how she ended up bumping shoulders with the infamous Captain Levi.

He suddenly leaned into her and said, "They're both morons."

In response, she merely nodded her mouth agape. He is an Ackerman, the clan Zeke had warned about, and she was in awe. But Levi, who was very much curious leaned in and pointed to her slack, "You got hay on you."

"Hay? Oh, this?" Sophie nervously replied, looking down to her gray slack. "Oh yeah, I visited the stable earlier." The light from the lamps of the mess hall gathered in the dark waves of her loose hair, her cheeks were bright pink and Levi was transfixed.

Levi waited for the cheering to peak before he spoke again, "You like to visit the stables?" Realizing how stupid his attempt was at forming a basic sentence he quickly added, "I mean horses--- You like horses?"

"Yes," Sophie replied, nervously tucking her hair behind her ear. "The horses here in Paradis are super friendly, bitey though."

"Yeah our horses tend to bite," Levi smacked his lips nervously. "In the Marleyan military do you horse ride?" He noticed Sophie's cheeks were reddening, he could smell her next to him, her hair like lavender and the smell of her skin like grapefruit.

The crowd was getting louder and it was harder for them to listen to one another. Leaning in, closer than Levi would ever imagine, Sophie whispered to him her breath hitting his earlobes, "Unfortunately there's no horse riding in the Marleyan navy, but I use to back in my hometown. I live in the countryside back home."

"Oh wow, ok!" Levi blurted out, a little too eagerly. They both smiled nervously in that small amount of time, but nerves got the best of him and suddenly Levi turned around from Sophie and simply muttered, "Yeah well, see you around."

Confused at his sudden reaction, Sophie merely waved him goodbye and stood where she was, overthinking if she had caused Levi to leave. She had heard of Levi's infamous cleaning habits and hygiene standards, she figured maybe the hay on her slack was a turn-off to him.

As Levi walked away, Hange jumped from the side and grabbed him by his arm pulling him to the wall. "Levi, what are you doing?" Hange glided over and inquired to him in a hushed deep voice.

"I--- I got nervous...?" Levi answered, his heart was pounding. His eyes showed signs of regret and anxiety, then he continued, "She loves horses AND she smells great. She's the perfect woman!" Hange pinched the bridge of her nose, suppressing the incoming laughter from seeing a side of Levi she never witnessed before.

"My dear Levi. You must really like this girl for you to act like this," Hange replied calmly. "Listen, approach her again and invite her for tea, somewhere less noisy. In your office perhaps?"

Both of them looked back to Sophie who was pouting and muttering to herself, looking confused. Hange assumed she was probably in distress figuring out what had happened, maybe they'd be perfect for each other in their own way, she thought. Placing her hand on Levi's shoulder Hange leaned down and whispered to his ear, "This is for you Levi."

Impulsively, Hange took a bowl of peanuts from the nearby table and started to throw it to a clueless Sophie, aiming for her back. A naïve Sophie slowly turned around to find Hange, the commander of Survey Corps, throwing peanuts to her back.

"Sorry! I was aiming for the---" Hange paused looking for an excuse but gave up halfway. "The--- Floor! Yes, I was aiming for the floor. But yeah, now that I have your full attention--- Levi." Hange nudged forward a nervous Levi to approach her, Sophie merely stared back at him concerned, her eyes widen. Sophie wondered if she was in trouble.

"Yeah Hange was--- She was trying to aim for the---" Levi tried to explain, English suddenly a second language for him. With one big breath he blurted out the words, "Would you like to go somewhere quiet and have tea?" Sophie looked to him, her face bright red, her wide round eyes flitted back and forth.

"Yes, I'd like that." she glanced to the floor then back to his gaze. Levi could smell the light-fruity sweetness of her breath. "But only if you let me make you Marleyan tea."

Levi nodded and stepped a few steps back, but before doing so leaned back to Sophie. "Sure, meet me at my office quarters. Second floor, turn left, first door to the right," he said and took off.

#levi x oc #levi ackerman #levi ackerman fanfiction #levi #attack on titan fanfiction #attack on titan #aot

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iomhair · 5 years ago

Text

I promised @johnlockismyreligion a teeny tiny ficlet about Boris getting a flu and Valery taking care of them. I don’t think that this is what you had in mind, so I apologize in advance >__< I posted it, then deleted it, then I decided to post it again, but anyway, it’s soppy and pathetic and hopeful.

If you have more prompts, feel free to send them my way <3 But then I will probably ruin them as well, so do it at your own risk :D

* * *

Moscow greets Valery Legasov with the ever-growing noises of the loud cars and scent of autumn rains. It's different, so different here now. It's actually strange, really: a couple of months ago, right before April Valery could not imagine his life without all of this fuss, all of the sounds of the city that never really sleeps. Now it all comes back as if Pripyat has never existed: distant and somewhat cozy roaring of autumn rain, traffic lights right under his windows, ticking clock, long forgotten smell of books and cigarette smoke.

Valery slowly walks forward, avoiding stepping on the creaking board out of habit. He enters his study, gazing at the student papers that were left here many months ago. Right... He was about to grade them, kids were supposed to have an exam. Suddenly Valery wonders about this exam, being curious about the grades. Were they good? Did his students pass? Did he manage to actually teach them something? Not that their grades matter now, not that most of the things matter now, but simple thoughts and simple distractions always helped him to keep sanity. Why giving up this habit now, when it's mostly needed.

Despite the noises outside the apartment everything seems so deadly quiet, and when the loud sound of ringing phone breaks the silence Valery rushes to it without even thinking.

- Hello?

The same silence greets him at first. Just for a split second or two, but it's enough for Valery to get excited and hopeful at the same time. He does not even need to hear this voice. And yet... all he wants is to listen to it again and again.

- Valery, this is Boris. Did you get home in time? It's stormy in Moscow, I just heard in the news.

Legasov smiles. Hundreds of storms would not matter now, all that mattered was the familiar loud voice that he got used to hear every day in Chernobyl. Voice that Valery missed more than he would ever dare to admit even to himself. It seemed odd, scary even: they have parted just a couple of hours ago, why does it feel like an eternity away?..

- Valery, is everything all right?

- Yes, sorry, everything is all right. Of course it's all right, really, I'm fine. I just... I guess it takes time to get used to it. Did not realize I am home.

- Well, we have a couple of days. Get some rest. We are going back soon.

- I understand. Thank you.

- Good. I will you see you then.

So many words Legasov wants to say. Maybe he even would if he was braver. But Valery knows that he is not brave whatsoever, and he allows himself to enjoy that little that he had - a simple call. They are going back in just a couple of days, and for some horrible, absolutely stupid reason Valery's heart beats faster now only of the plain knowledge that soon he will see Boris once again. Pathetic, Legasov thinks to himself. What an old fool he is. Both of them need some reprieve and he better enjoy it.

In fact, he is not.

Valery walks to the window, watching the rain and taking out the cigarette from the pack, lighting it up. He tries to come up with some excuse that would allow him to call Boris back and to listen to his voice just a little bit longer. Maybe he hanged up too fast and it was quite rude. Maybe they need to discuss further plans. Maybe Boris had something to add to Valery's report to Kremlin's officials. And maybe, just maybe he would not mind hearing from his friend once again.

Solitude never really bothered Legasov, he did find it quite enjoyable, and it was always easier to work when his mind was not occupied with anything distracting. But somehow now it seems like a burden and Valery was secretly asking himself if there was even a slight chance that Boris feels the same. The second cigarette brings a false sense of the determination and Valery almost picks up the phone once again.

- Don’t do it, - he whispers quietly, making the warning vocal and therefore more real, - Don’t even think about it.

The early evening falls on Moscow very quickly, wrapping it in another layer of rain and fog.

Not today. But maybe tomorrow.

* * *

Waking up when you are utterly in love and have to keep quiet about it is not easy, that Legasov realized on his first week in Chernobyl. Not impossible, but very much heartbreaking. Every day seems like a burden and a blessing, and today, Valery already knew it, would be especially strange. Yet he will have to go through it, preferably using this chance of being in Moscow to their benefit, maybe meet certain people, ask some very uncomfortable questions, or even see his friends.

The weather is horrible even for the early autumn. Legasov thinks that he would actually love to stay at home today, but he has only few days in Moscow and he has to use them.

It all comes back to him very quickly: crowded metro, traffic outside, loud students chasing the bus to Kurchatov institute, kiosks with newspapers, pieces of conversations, and people, actual people outside, and none of them looking like the ones Valery used to see in Chernobyl. It feels… reassuring.

The fuss of his usual life quickly envelops Valery in its embrace, taking the familiar form of friends, colleagues, students, even his own office. It seemed like life has not changed for anyone except of him, although Legasov knew that it was not true. He found it quite amusing that some of the colleagues tried to avoid him on purpose. Everyone knew where Valery came from. Everyone knew what happened there. And Legasov knew that no one would dare to ask him any questions and put themselves under the unnecessary risk. He expected it, anticipated the silence. But the unnerving feeling of being crossed out from the life that he used to have was getting stronger and stronger.

It’s stupid, really. Dangerous even. But it’s the end of the day and Valery needs to know that he still exists. That Chernobyl happened. Still happening. After all, he has a perfect excuse: a fresh report with the actual data that Boris will need to see.

Legasov sighed, watching his own hand lingering over the red phone on his desk. Just seven numbers, he can certainly do it. He was near the open reactor, he spent last months in the most dangerous place on earth, surely one call can’t be that scary.

The circle with dialed numbers slowly spins there and back. One by one Valery touches the digits, actually hoping that maybe Boris would not pick up, maybe he is already sleeping, maybe is drinking somewhere with friends, maybe he is somewhere else, maybe he is at…

- This is Boris Shcherbina. Who am I speaking to?

…or he can actually pick up the phone.

- Boris, this is Valery, I needed to…

Needed to what? Hear you? See you? Make sure you exist?

The loud sound of sneezing interrupts Valery and getting him worried. He keeps silent for a couple of seconds, giving Boris some time to recover.

- Perhaps this is bad timing, sorry, Boris, I can call tomorrow.

- It’s all right, I am fine.

- Yes, you clearly are.

Legasov could not see, but could almost hear the usual growl, that Boris used to make when he was unhappy with the way things were.

- It’s nothing urgent, really. I just wanted you to see some new changes and make sure that you are aware of them. But it can wait.

- Do you need me to look at it?

- Yes, but if you are not feeling well…

- Nonsense, I am perfectly fine.

Valery does not really know what to say to this. It was always tough to overrule Shcherbina’s decisions, but it never stopped Legasov before.

- Boris, listen…

- I’ll give you my address. Come by and we’ll talk.

He should not agree. Under any circumstances he should not accept it, Valery already knows it. This is a very bad idea, in fact, he should decline it right away…

- I’ll be in an hour.

…but those words slip off his lips before Legasov could stop himself.

Valery’s palms are shivering when he hangs up the phone. His heart is beating almost three times faster when he collects everything that he wanted to show to Boris. None of those papers are very important and Legasov knows it, all of this could actually wait. But the need to see him, maybe just to make sure that everything is all right is way stronger than his own pride.

* * *

Shcherbina opens the door and it’s pretty obvious to Valery that something’s not right. Boris does not look like his usual self, in fact, he looks far from it. And Legasov does not need to be a doctor to realize that his friend probably did not sleep that night very well.

- Boris, how are you feeling?

Simple question, that would usually require a simple answer, but not with Boris Shcherbina, never with this man. He would never admit that something is wrong with him, as if accepting help from another human being would make him less of a man.

- I am fine. Just did not sleep well.

- Right…

In any other time Legasov would have accepted this explanation even if it was far from truth. Despite Boris’ opinion, he could play those social games to a certain extent, could spare someone’s ego, could avert the eyes in case it was needed. Valery never managed to master it, but at least he learned the very basics.

But now… Now it was different.

Legasov walked into the apartment, still holding the folder with the papers. Even in his wildest dreams, whenever he imagined being at this place, he never expected it to be this… intimate. Everything around him kept the feel of Boris, making this apartment so incredibly personal, that it was impossible to ignore. Somehow Valery knew that Shcherbina was feeling the same, but for some odd reason he did not make any attempts to stop Valery or to let him know that he is not welcome here. He just sighed, for some reason giving a quick glance to the mirror, quickly touching the collar of his shirt, and walked through the dark corridor. Valery heard the sound of cups and teaspoons, turning away from the massive bookshelf, filled with different books and beautiful atlases in fancy covers. Legasov suspected that most of them were here just for decoration, but some part of him desperately wanted to give this cabinet a closer look.

- Valery, I am making tea, will you have some?

Before Valery could even say something, he heard a loud sound of sneezing that Shcherbina was obviously trying to cover. He walked to the kitchen, freezing at the doorframe and watching Boris wearily sitting onto the chair, looking somewhat offended. With the quiet sigh Legasov stepped forward, gently touching Boris’ forehead with the palm, measuring the temperature.

- I have not been sick for so many years. Always healthy. Even when my daughter was sick and I had to spend nights at her bed – never caught anything. And now… the one evening of rain and look at me, what the hell is this.

Valery could not help, but to allow himself to smile – Boris always tend to be dramatic despite his everlasting composure. How he managed to balance it, letting his emotions be mixed in the right way, remained a mystery.

- Did you even sleep tonight?

- Not really. I’ve been up all night. I took some pills, but it did not help much.

Valery sighed, stepping away and looking at Boris, desperately trying not to show anything that could be considered more than a simple concern for a sick friend.

- Where do you keep medicine?

Boris nodded to the far drawer, still looking somewhat pale and tired.

- You don’t have to do this.

- Do what exactly?

- Staying here for a start. Wasting your day. I am sure, you have plenty of other plans. Valery, really, it’s fine, I can take care of myself. You don’t get to my age without fighting a flu or two.

Legasov smirked, turning away from the drawer, already holding a big box filled with different pills, glass bottles, even the tin cans with medical lotions.

- I thought you said that you’ve never been sick. Was this an imaginary fight?

- I still can take care of myself.

With these words Boris bent forward, trying to fight the cough once again and then simply giving up to it. Valery felt his own fingers clenching the box even tighter.

- I know you can, Boris. Just… just let me make you tea, deal?.. And what the hell is that, it’s been expired, of course it would not work!

- I told you, I never needed any of those! Legasov, I am barely even home. I have work to do. I have no time to be sick!

Valery sighed, putting the box away and turning to Boris. Suddenly he realized that he has absolutely no rights to order around, that he is actually in another man’s apartment, which was the absolute last place in the world that Valery should have been visiting. Simple words “go to bed” got stuck in Legasov’s throat, and he felt his cheeks were getting covered with the very distinctive blush. It was impossible not to notice this, but Valery knew that Boris had good enough manners so to ignore it. At least for now.

- Right…

The whole situation Valery found himself in was far from ordinary. It would have been uneasy, even scary, but the past months were full of quick events and quick decisions and Legasov wanted to think that this experience was sufficient enough to use it in the current circumstances.

- You do need some rest, Boris, you might have a fever. I will make you tea and get you something that did not expire last century, but you need to… you know, what sick people usually do and try to stay in warmth.

Boris got up. It seemed like Valery’s words were finally making an effect or maybe he just did not feel like arguing, Legasov could not tell.

Rain outside was still pretty heavy, seems like autumn came early this year. But it does not matter, like grades of his students, like most of the things now. Valery knows that even if it was storm and tornado outside, he’d still go to this damn store, just to make sure that Boris will feel better. It actually takes him some time to find the pharmacy in the new area, get everything that he used to get for himself whenever he was getting sick and to come back to Boris’ apartment. His thin jacket is all wet, scarf is actually dripping with water, but the sudden feeling of this welcoming warmth of someone else’s apartment makes it all it worth it.

Twilight shadows were now covering the rooms, somehow making everything look more cozy. Legasov turned on the dimmed lights, trying to be move as quiet as possible, deciding to check on Shcherbina and doing his best to not actually think of the fact that he was now entering his bedroom.

- Boris? It’s me. I got you some pills, and this syrup, look, it’s not much, but they did not have lots of choice and I’ll check another store tomorrow, and…

- Thank you…

Valery shivers. How he longed to hear this voice once again. And yet now he would prefer not to hear it at all, rather letting his friend get some sleep. He was never the one to be too affectionate, was never able to declare anything he feels, preferring to keep everything a secret. It was safer. It was a right thing to do. Always was. And now it was not the time to make an exception.

Valery bit the lips, gently touching Boris’ forehead, letting his fingers slide over a couple of visible wrinkles. For the split second he met the gaze of the grey eyes, that haunted his dreams for many months. Is it… No, it can’t be. Boris’ just not feeling well. He is tired. He needs sleep. He needs a friend and not the loud declarations that will ruin everything and put them both into an extremely shitty position.

- Give me a couple of minutes, I’ll come back.

Boris nods. And his lips are stretching in a slight smile.

It takes Valery a couple of minutes to brew the hot tea with the generous portion of honey, make the cold wrap and sort the medicine, leaving most of them on the table. It is somewhat strange to take care of someone just like this, but at the same time Valery is terrified of the fact that it feels so natural. Even the simplest of things, such as mixing honey with tea seemed so painfully domestic that some part of Valery dared to enjoy it.

He came back to Boris’ room only to see him settling under the blanket with nothing but an undershirt on. And although this was something Legasov expected to see, he did not really know how to react to that properly. Best would be just to turn away, or maybe pretend like nothing is happening, or maybe just drop this cup here, put everything on the bedside table, leave this place and never ever come back. Yes, that would be preferable. But then Boris shifted, opening the eyes and trying to pull the blanket higher with the visible effort.

- Hold on, Boris, let me help.

- I am perfectly fine, look, I can even get up myself, Valery.

- Of course you can, I know, yes, but just… here, drink this.

Valery moved forward, trying not to think of the fact that this was the closest he has ever been to Shcherbina and that he was just about to touch his arm, leaning back the last second. He passed the cup to Boris, watching him drinking the hot tea and obediently swallowing all of the pills, not even asking any questions about them.

- There you go. See, does not feel that bad.

- It does not feel good either.

- Yes, but you need to wait. That’s usually how the medicine works.

- What if I don’t want to wait? This is boring.

Valery sighed. He could not believe it. Boris now looked at him with the expression that reminded Legasov of his own students, unhappy with the final result of their exam. He did his best to hide the smile, while slowly moving away from the bed, trying to be as subtle as it was possible.

- I am sorry, I wish I could… make the effect immediate?

- Can you?

- No, but I can make it a bit easier.

Valery slowly put the cold wrap on Boris’ forehead, watching his lips opening in a quiet sigh.

- That should help… - he whispered, slowly backing away, at this point unable to avoid looking at Boris, - I… I probably should go, you need some sleep, I can’t help with that. Listen, there are… pills on the table, I found some honey, I will come back in the morning to check on you. I turned off the stove, but I can make you another cup of tea, let me just…

- Stay.

- Excuse me?..

- Stay, Valera.

This very second it seems to Legasov that his world has shuttered into millions little pieces. And as if those words were not enough, he suddenly felt Boris’ hand in his own, instinctively clenching the palm around his fingers. It was impossible, absolutely unbelievable, and yet it was happening.

Boris’ eyes are closed and it makes Valery think that this all is not real. That Boris’ fever probably reached the point when people do crazy things, say the words they don’t mean, act stupid – he heard about that. It is totally possible.

But Boris’ hand is still in his own, although the grip was now getting less strong. He is falling asleep fast, probably because of the warmth, or maybe it’s the rain outside, or the pills. Hundreds of reasons for that, really. All of them way more possible than any stupid fantasy.

- I’m here.

Valery hopes that Boris did not hear that. That he has already fell asleep, that his treacherous voice was too quiet. And as if this was not enough, Legasov sat on a bed once again, trying to take as little space as it was possible. His heart seemed to jump out of the chest, but the hands were steady. Not even thinking what he was doing, not even caring of the consequences, not even knowing if it was the right thing to do, he leaned forward, for a split second pressing the lips to Boris’ knuckles, already knowing that he will stay by him all night, if needed.

- I am here.

He should let go of Boris’ hand. In fact, he should leave immediately, it would have been a right thing to do. But the rain outside is getting only stronger and Boris is finally falling asleep, and he is still holding Valery’s hand, and his fever will be gone tomorrow – somehow Valery already knows that. And this is all that matters now.

#valoris #ugh I am pathetic #unsent letters #valery legasov #boris shcherbina

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the-goddess-of-mischief-writing · 4 years ago

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Would you believe me if I told you my story {19}

Chapter summary: Freed from your room you meet up with Steve for the first time planning and scheduling how your training will go.

Pairing: Avengers x reader (will change over time)

Rating: Mature

CHAPTER NO/ONESHOT: Chapter 19/?

Word count; 3.274

Warnings; nothing major, perhaps combat for those who’s picky about warnings

Author; @the-goddess-of-mischief-writing

SERIES MASTERLIST

It wasn’t the most comfortable, but the size was right so it had to do. The Captain, or most likely whoever gave the sparring suit to him, made a good job picking it out in that aspect. While you only had wanted to look in the mirror to see the suit, you couldn’t deny you took a quick look over your face. You didn’t look tired, at least not more than I usually do. You thought that the tight ponytail or at least the hair against your scalp which was almost slicked to perfection, made you look a bit less… lifeless.

When you walked out of the changing room you couldn’t keep yourself from trying to adjust the suit.

”Bad fit?” The question made you stop fiddling with the suit and look up.

”Not particularly, just not comfortable”, the Captain hadn’t moved far away from the spot you left him in, however now he was closer to the middle of the sparring matt.

”Not everything is always comfortable”, he chided as you walked closer, taking place opposite him.

”I didn't mean as in I want something as soft as a cloud, I mean as in I feel like I can’t move as I want”, you bit back, body beginning to tense up, mostly by what surrounded you and not the conversation.

You didn't get an answer, only a raise of one of his eyebrows. Neither It seemed like you would get a further answer as he took a step towards you. By instinct you took one back, making him let out a gentle sigh.

”We ain’t going to spar today. We’ll probably just go over things”, his answer made you frown Why wouldn’t we spar, isn’t that mostly what their training consist of anyways? He saw your obvious confusion and opted to explain why. ”Fury instructed me that we would be taking up your training once settled in…”

”I was there Captain, I remember what he said. Although I wouldn't deem the situation right now as settled in”, you huffed out the response, effectively interrupting him. He didn’t complain about it, instead, he just shrugged and continued.

”We’ll try to go over what you remember and don’t from your earlier training and then plan something after that”

”Although I got training, it was a few years ago, so I think the only thing which will hurt by starting from the beginning is when I occasionally remember something from muscle memory”, you didn’t expect him to laugh at what you said, nevertheless he did.

”Interesting that you think you would be able to surprise me with that”

”I have already done it once”, the smirk which began forming on his lips also spread to yours.

”And that’s exactly why I just presume everything, until you prove me otherwise”, a chuckle passed your lips and was the end to your conversation before he started it on the right track again.

You hadn’t believed that you only would stand and talk with the Captain during the time you thought you would train. Even though you wanted to call the time you had with him comfortable, that wasn’t the word you would use. The same caution you would’ve held towards him while sparring, as much did you have while talking. You didn't say much during the time, only let him know what he needed to form your training.

You noticed even more things about him at the same time. He was as cautious around you as he’d been the first few times, the only difference was that he wasn’t as formal, something which made the difference harder to notice.

It went slowly but after planning and him suggesting a schedule which you had no other reason than to approve off, you began the physical part of the training. You knew by now that this wasn’t a process which would go raging forward, but when the Captain went trough how you properly would stand and even angle your body, you had it.

”Captain, we’re five days into training and three of those has been planning it. I think yesterdays basic walkthrough is enough knowledge about how I should stand”, you broke the defensive stance he had instructed you through and instead crossed your arms while giving him a judgemental stare.

”We agreed on taking it from the beginning”, he stated matter of factly. You rolled your eyes while letting out a sigh.

”I didn't think you were this stuck in the past, Captain”, he furrowed his brows towards you at your statement, something which you had come to realise was a combination of irritation and confusion. ”You know you don’t need to be stuck to what we said. If you notice something, you’re able to change it up”, you stated, pretty sure he only went over the basics thanks to you saying that it would be wise. He looked at you for a moment, studying you as you tap your finger irritably against your arm.

”Than I’ll do”, he didn’t directly confirm that you’d been right, but you took it as a sign. He moved a bit further away from you, still standing closer to the centre of the matt than the sides of it. ”You're able to move yourself the right way”

”Somehow I needed to have done it to avoid the whole team”, you shrugged which he this time didn’t react any bigger too.

”Yes, although I noticed that you had your flaws while doing so”, he both confirmed and rejected what you said and you lifted an eyebrow.

”And I presume you already taken into counting that I couldn’t use my full abilities?”

”I already guessed so when in the actual fight. It isn’t usual for someone to break in here and not use their full set of abilities to disarm us. When you did neither, I guessed there was something else going on”, he stated it as if reading off a script, but you knew it was only his eye for detail in combat which made it possible.

”If you’re so in tune then Captain, what are my flaws?”

”Even though you don’t let much information show through your face and body in combat, some choices and action do”, he began and you raised a curious brow to what he said. ”To begin with, I don’t see past your strength because it's obvious you possess that, but when you go against bigger opponents in just hand to hand combat you often take the step back. You give your opponent the advantage to steer your next move, even though you perhaps control of the overall situation, something which is dangerous if you're against skilled fighters”, you nodded to what he said and the affirmation made him continue. ”If you remember against Sam, you didn’t keep enough distance between the two of you and this let him steer you. Even if he’s more skilled in aerial-ground combined fight, he isn’t worse in one of the two. When he closed in on you he automatically minimised the potential outcome of actions you could choose from", you thought back to the situation with Wilson. When the Captain pointed out your wrongdoings, you understood that you could’ve avoided the quite hurried exit from that situation.

”But I have to point out that not everything you did was wrong. What you did against Thor and me was good examples of a wider arrange of choices you get when in control", he continued when he saw you coming back from your backtracking thoughts.

”I feel like they were the only options, if I didn’t want to run into two brick walls”, he chuckled, but continued explaining shortly afterwards.

”Perhaps, but using not only speed but also a bigger person build against them, is what you find in any lecture of combat for those who are smaller in the situation. Against Thor you used the speed, something you're able to outdo him on within close proximity. While for me you used both the element of surprise and my own body against me”, you couldn’t help but smirk when he mentioned the situation with him. You needed to say you were quite proud of it.

”I see what you mean Captain”, you said and he nodded before continuing himself.

”Good. The second thing is when you’re levelled with your opponent, take Nat for example. You aren’t far from each other physically, this makes the only difference experience. As she allegedly has more in these sort of combats, she will have the upper hand. Here you need to be patient, you’ll need to see what she’s able to do. Keep your distance and don’t initiate things directly, nevertheless, this is things you generally should do on all occasions. As hand to hand combats doesn’t really make a lot of deadly damage, it will mostly become a play of who has more stamina and clear enough head to execute it the best”, he ended. If you had gone one or two more nights without sleeping, his words would’ve just gone in and out, but at this moment you nodded your head, knowing what he meant.

You looked at him while he shifted his stance, from upright to more closed.

”In normal cases, we begin with opponents close to our own size”, he said and you readied yourself while he continued, feeling your pulse quickening. ”What we’re going to do isn’t sparring, instead you’ll try to do the things I said you needed to work on. Study, have patience, keep the distance and try not to be locked in situations”, he nodded to you, asking silently if you were ready. You only gave him a curt nod before he began walking towards you.

After five minutes you understood why he said you needed patience, he did close to nothing besides near you at points. It felt much more to a staring contest than combat training. You’ve noticed, however, that for him this wasn’t useless. His eyes were always moving, studying different things each time, something which you didn’t do any less off. You noticed he put most of his weight on the front of his foot, so he quickly could both lunge and take a swift step forwards or if defending himself, taking one back.

Something else you took notice of and watched quite frequently, was his eyes tracking. All the time he’d lunged towards you, it had been after watching specific places on your body. It begun with your feet, hips arms then eyes everything in one swift sweep, the same exact one he did now.

Just when you noticed this, he lunged, further and more explosive then he’d done before. When he came in closer than before you heard his voice repeated itself in your head ”keep distance”. You kept a few good feet between you, but it was when he started aiming punches, which you could read wasn’t full force, you started to have a bit of trouble. With every punch he made you take a step back, steps which he quickly caught you in as his almost were twice the length. What should I do, what should I do? ”Don’t be locked” His voice rang once again in your head and you started to understand that you necessarily didn’t need to only back away.

You threw a quick glance while dodging one of his blows, noticing that he still had most of his weight at the front of his feet. This gave you an idea.

You waited until he threw a punch with his odd arm and his whole body angled with it. While you dived under it, instead of backwards like you have done before, you noticed he caught on to you. Quickly he tried to retract his arm which now was above you but you made that hard for him as you gripped his wrist and pulled it backwards. With the elevated speed of him going the opposite direction as you, he stumbles forwards and you shot up behind him.

Your adrenaline pumped as The Captain quickly regain his posture and turned to you again. He lunged directly, now not only with punches. He didn’t full-on karate kick you, but he began using his legs in a way to take away your balance. You felt your pulse quickening and you became hyper-aware of your surroundings. Feeling presence to your left, you needed to go against every instinct of yours to not throw a quick glance that way. You waited for a punch or two until the Captain didn’t throw them with such speed anymore and you chanced a glance. You registered the big frame of Thor. It was somehow weird seeing him as you hadn’t run into anyone on the team beside the Captain since the meeting. However, you hadn’t much time pondering about it as you felt your leg being taken out. It was swift enough that only instinct saved you some grace.

You had just the right amount of time to turn your head and grab the side of the Captains neck, the momentum of you falling and your unpredicted move made him fall rights besides you. You hit the matt with a big thud, while the Captain just about caught himself with his hands, a smacking sound following.

You panted where you laid on the floor. That went just about how good I thought it would. You raised yourself to a sitting position while huffing out your breath.

Because the Captain wasn’t moving hurriedly, you understood that the session was over and breathed out a sigh of relief.

”Not bad”, his voice surprised you. Looking up you saw him stand before you, a sweat drop trickling down the side of his temple, unlike the pool collecting on your forehead and neck. He reached out his hand for you to take, but you stood up by yourself instead. ”Not bad at all”, he continued and you saw him retract his hand.

”Well, I would say it wasn’t a complete failure”, you couldn’t contain a smile.

”And if I also could give a word of affirmation, I would deem you the victorious, Lady Y/N”, Thor’s voice surprised you as it sounded closer than what you’d seen him be. Looking to where it came from you saw him walking towards you, also he with a grin plastered on his face. ”Anyone that can outdo Captain America two times should be seen as the winner”, his smile radiated something which you almost felt didn’t match him as big as he was. What broke the moment however was when he lowered his hand to pat your shoulder. You hadn’t any form of thought beside jerking away from the gesture, something which the god furrowed his brows too. Even though he did this, he didn’t ask about it.

”You know very well Thor that isn’t true”, the Captain tried deflecting the comment and at the same time he looked at Thor you saw something pass his eyes.

”I am very well aware of the truth because I had fought you myself”, the god laughed and the Captain in front of you just shook his head.

”However, I had a matter to talk with you about Steven, but it can wait if needed”, Thor continued and you felt that you grew even more wary and cautious around the two men.

”We seemed to be done anyways, so you can talk. See you tomorrow Captain”, you were just about to turn around, go get your things, leave and have a shower but the voice of the Captain stopped you from even doing one of the things.

”We were done but I wanted to suggest we talk through things, we can meet up in the common room afterwards?” You hastily nodded to him, quickly hurrying out of the room to let them talk.

The men watched your hurried exit from the room, not turning to one another until you were out of sight.

”So what…” Steve couldn’t get any further in his question before Thor, who glanced a second time towards the entrance, interrupted him.

”She is a good fighter”

”She does know a lot”, Steve mindfully stated, copying the stance Thor had taken, arms crossed but relaxed.

”I think you could praise her more than that Steven”, the taller man began, while meaningfully looking down at the other. ”Even though she is not the most skilled, it takes a lot to stand up against all of us and also take you down on her fourth day of training”, he stated and while Steve agreed, he noticed the last thing Thor said.

”You knew we trained”

”I did indeed”, he nodded and seeing the questionable look the Captain gave him, he explained further. ”I were on my way to practice but noticed that when I came here the two of you had already started. I did not want to intrude so I watched instead”, he nodded his head up towards the glassed-in area high above their heads. The stairs you’d noticed going up on the right once walking in were those to the viewing area. It looked like a small common room, but instead of a view to the outside, the mirrored windows showed the training centre. Steve had wondered if he would have the first days of preparing your training sessions up there but thought as he had given this as an option for you to get out of your room, the centre itself would be more freeing.

”So Thor, what was it you wanted to discuss?” Steve asked, trying to concentrate on the original conversation Thor came to have.

”Fitting enough, it is about Lady Y/N”, Thor hummed in response, choosing his next words carefully before continuing. ”I recall what you said after meeting her, that we should try to get her accustomed to the team and therefore also us. However, she has been here a week soon enough and I am aware that she almost has not been seen around the tower, perhaps no elsewhere than training with you”, Thor pointed it out and then it went up for Steve. The only times he saw you were indeed when training and since only three days ago also afterwards, mostly eating something, but times outside of that glimpses of you were spare. While he initiated most of your meetings, as he had been assigned your guardian, he understood that the others wasn't so inclined in doing so. You didn't only need his help with training, but also socialising with the others. Something he forgotten about.

”You’re right, I haven’t thought about it so much”, he had an excuse he told himself, whatever problem between you and Bucky being that. However, he knew that just because your relationship with Bucky would take time, he didn't need to put off introducing anyone else also.

”I assumed that, therefore I wanted to speak to you about the matter”, Steve had begun walking from their point on the matt, Thor following a step behind, noticing the Captain being in deep thought.

”As you heard I’m going to meet her in a little while, presuming that you want to start integrating her into the team, by perhaps knowing a bit more about her yourself, I wonder if you want to come along?” Steve had walked to the place he’d set down his things earlier, picking up his water bottle and tossing his hoodie over his shoulder, before turning around and looking at Thor for his answer. He was met by a smile and while he hadn’t even gotten a verbal answer he understood it.

”If I may, I certainly will”

Forever taglist: @flowerchild1216 @haven-in-writing @krystallynx @lancsnerd @thejamesoldier

Series taglist: @colie87 @ohhhmyloki @leenat23

#steve x reader #steve x reader training #thor x reader #thor x reader training #steve rogers fanfiction #thor fanfiction #Steve Rogers #steve rogers x reader #captain america x reader #captain america #Thor Odinson #the god of thunder #avengers fanfiction #marvels avengers #Avengers #avengers series #avengers x reader #steve series #thor series

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fuzziemutt · 5 years ago

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Crying in My Prom Dress

Summary: Prom was always hyped to be this magical time. The biggest dance of your high school life. So why was Virgil sitting outside the dance crying during such a supposedly amazing night ? Simple. HE wanted to tear HIS prom dress to shreds.

Tw: Just some Virgil angst ! Some mention of possibly transphobic parents and others. Virg is ftm btw if it wasn’t clear; Deceit is in this and he is a nice guy and not a transphobic asshole at all and helps V out

Notes: I’ve been seeing a lot of Dee being a transphobic asshat in fics especially towards V and it’s been rubbing me the wrong way so here have Dee being decent because heck you. I wrote this based on the song “Prom Dress” by mxmtoon. Also I wrote this at 2 am with barely any editing so...

He couldn’t believe this. He thought he could handle it. Just one night in a dress. It was no big deal ! Yet, here he was trying not to cry so loudly and tucked in a secluded corner outside of the school’s gym. His makeup was already staining his cheeks and basically smeared beyond recognition in some places. He knew that wearing a dress would kick in his dysphoria but he didn’t think he would be checking “Crying on Prom night” off his nonexistent bucket list.

He tried to not smear his makeup further, but he needed to do something with his shaky hands and it’s not like he cared much for it in the first place. He really hoped no one would leave the dance anytime soon as he could not handle a panic attack right now, that was for sure.

He honestly didn’t know what he was thinking. Everyone knew him as the angsty emo kid with the oversized jackets who might knock you out and he passed pretty well even surprisingly. Yet the second his mom started going on about how her little girl was going to look so nice in this dress at prom and “purple is your favorite color right ? I saw this lovely purple gown-” and onwards made him cave. Now here he was in a strapless, long, purple gown that really emphasized his curves and made him want to practically scream.

He barely lasted even a couple minutes in the dance with so many stares on him. He had hoped that the “over the top” makeup and the dress that was so different from his “silent, moody guy” vibe would keep people from recognizing him but given all the silent stares he could feel burning into his soul… He even purposely didn’t get a prom date if he could even get one just to avoid his date’s questions on the matter and revealing his “secret” of sorts.

The sound of a nearby door opening pulled him from his thoughts and he began to scramble to his feet to try and vacate the area before that panic attack actually occurred. He cursed how loud his heels clicked as he tried to speed walk away from the sound of footsteps.

“Virgil, wait,” was called out behind him. He knew that voice. Before he knew it, he was peaking over his hunched shoulders with a slow turn around as a familiar, scarred face came into view.

He didn’t know if he wanted to run or try and scare the other off, so he could finally just get this horrid night over with. He already started to try squaring his shoulders and loom over the slightly shorter guy in front of him just as he noticed the large bag in gloved hands.

“I noticed how so not uncomfortable you were in there and didn’t think you might need.. a helping hand of sorts,” Deceit, Virg’s nickname he gave to the infamous school liar, stated with sarcasm practically dripping from his lips. He finished off with lifting the bag higher and showing what looked like a suit with a protector bag over it.

While he thought that was quite sweet, Virgil’s eyes immediately narrowed in suspicion, “Why would you, of all people, want to help me,” was practically spat as he tried to make himself as intimidating as possible.

Deceit merely raised an eyebrow over his blue eye and shrugged.

“It’s totally not because I thought I should help a fellow brother out at all or anything,” it was almost murmured and so very un-Deceit like.

It took Virg a second to realize what he meant and he felt his shoulders almost immediately beginning to lower. “Are you…” he didn’t even need to finish his sentence as the soft almost smile he got said all.

“I guess I’ll accept your help… this one time,” of course, he had a reputation to keep up so he immediately put his brash walls and scowl back up. But he didn’t hesitate to slowly trail behind the other as Deceit led them to what he was assuming was the nearest bathroom.

He couldn’t believe how absolutely relieving it was to see himself in the mirror flat chested and in the right clothes again. He had to hand it to Deceit for somehow having a binder and suit in his size though they were quite similar in size now that he thought about it like this. Deceit had even helped him clear off his makeup and get his iconic emo eyeshadow back. He also whipped out a pair of shoes he could wear from somewhere at some point.

“Why did you even have all of this on you ? Where did you even get all of this ?” he couldn’t help but ask as they started to head towards the gym again.

The ominous smirk and “a magician never reveals his secrets,” really did not help matters he would argue but at this point, he wasn’t really going to push it.

People still stared. In fact, more people seemed to be staring at him this time. The only difference was Deceit now stood by his side and even seemed to challenge all their peers with his own deadly sharp grin and looking as if ready to fight someone.

Virgil would never admit it but he actually genuinely was having fun joking with Dee by his side. At some point, they even started to do some dancing a bit. It was awkward and clumsy but it was actually… quite enjoyable ? They danced and badly sang to some of the songs the DJ played and ranted about how wild cishet people were and relaxed their shoulders as they claimed one of the corners as their own. He even felt a need to thank Dee for everything but that was too soft for both of them he decided.

When they finally started to shuffle out of the place late into the night with a full attire slung over his shoulder, he realized he never had such an amazing night before and thought:

Maybe Prom wasn’t that bad after all.

#thomas sanders #sanders sides #virgil sanders #ts virgil #virgil angst #deceit sanders #ts deceit #sympathetic deceit #i write #long post

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beca-mitchell · 5 years ago

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can't we just (sleep)talk?

Summary: Chloe bears witness to Beca’s sleeptalking problem.

Word count: 3213

For @kimmania to fulfill the conditions of my Bechloe/Planned Parenthood fundraiser. Thank you to everybody who donated. I still have it open for a few more days, but in total with my own FB friends’ donations, we’ve raised $500! That’s incredible, so thank you all. I am going to slowly work through the prompts I have received.

I hope you enjoy!

Title is loosely based on “Talk” by Khalid.

Read on AO3 or below.

It is the night before finals at the Lincoln Center. The Bellas are all abuzz with jittery nervousness.

Chloe just wants to sleep.

She smiles at the sight of Aubrey gracefully accepting the pillow Lily offers her, though she holds it warily for a moment, like she does not know what to do it.

Her steadiness is gone in a flash, however, and her entire body relaxes just before she’s swinging the pillow with precision and deadly accuracy.

Chloe does a quick headcount and smiles to herself when she realizes who is missing from their impromptu Bellas gathering in hers and Aubrey’s room.

She slips away, unnoticed.

– – – – – – – – – –

Right to Beca's hotel room.

“Hey,” Chloe greets when Beca opens her hotel room door. “You’re missing all the destressing.”

Beca smiles wryly and opens the door wider to allow Chloe in. “So are you, then. If you’re here.”

“No Bella should be alone on the evening of their first finals competition,” Chloe recites. She nudges Beca with her shoulder playfully when she brushes past, ignoring Beca’s grumbling in lieu of gasping when she notices Beca’s laptop and headphones. “Please don’t tell me you’re working on last minute setlist changes, Bec.”

Like she does whenever Chloe’s nickname for her slips past her lips, Beca’s brow furrows, but only for a moment. “I’m not,” she promises. “I’m just…” she gestures at the bed. “Listening to music.”

Chloe picks up on her tone right away. Following Beca’s lead, she perches on the edge of the bed and waits for more instruction from Beca – Beca who has been more open recently, but whom Chloe knows to be conscious of her own space at any given time. Beca glances up at her as she resettles on her bed. Beca grabs her headphones and just as Chloe thinks Beca is about to leave her hanging, Beca unplugs her headphones from her laptop and begins neatly wrapping up the cord.

“Want to...watch some YouTube videos with me?” Beca offers.

Chloe refrains from nodding quickly and leaping onto the bed with excitement.

“I would love that.”

– – – – – – – – – –

“Have you ever watched one of those hot dog eating contests?”

“God, please, no–okay, yep. We’re watching it.”

– – – – – – – – – –

“Oh, this twenty-five ways to tie a scarf video would have been helpful. I still can’t decide how I want to wear my scarf tomorrow.”

Beca snorts. “As helpful as twenty-five ways to cook a chicken?” A pause. “It’d be cute as a belt," she suggests quickly, then proceeds to avoid Chloe's eyes.

– – – – – – – – – –

Beca’s recommended videos include a lot of movie soundtracks and top forty hits. Chloe swallows at the memory of how they had all banded together to help Beca put together an ideal setlist while also making up with Jesse.

Chloe tries not to be jealous, she really does. She wants Beca to be happy and safe and loved .

Chloe just doesn’t know how to show she can provide those exact things for Beca.

“Pick a song,” Beca says suddenly, startling Chloe out of her brief reprieve.

Chloe is disoriented when she comes to. The room is dark and she is snug and comfortable under the sheets. Her back aches a little bit because she is still propped up a little against the headboard, but a pillow was placed behind her lower back and the comforter was pulled up over her lap.

That would be sweet enough on its own if it weren’t for the fact that Beca – Chloe hopes it’s Beca in the darkness – is pressed up against her side, essentially cuddled into Chloe’s side. They’re barely touching, but they are close enough that Chloe can feel the warmth radiating off Beca’s back.

A part of her wants to lie down completely and wrap Beca up in her arms, but she figures that would be weird and crossing more boundaries than she already crossed when she barged in Beca’s shower. Not her proudest moment.

Chloe sighs and tries to figure out how to move from the bed without too much creaking or jostling.

“For you,” Beca mumbles.

Chloe blinks away the last dredges of sleep. “Beca?” she whispers. A quick glance past the gap in the hotel room’s blinds and she can see that it is still dark outside. Another quick glance over to the other bed in the room and she can tell that Amy is yet to return. “Beca,” she tries again, louder.

“Chloe,” Beca responds, sounding awake and yet, not. Chloe frowns and props herself up on her elbow so she can lean over Beca’s side, careful not to brush unnecessarily against Beca’s body. “Chlo,” she repeats, slurring a little on the lone syllable.

“Is that my nickname?” Chloe asks distractedly, trying to force her eyes to adjust in the dark. She isn’t even sure what she’s saying, ready to tease the hell out of Beca if she’s sleep talking. Beca continues to be an enigma – adorable and mysterious all at once.

“The vending machine.”

Chloe frowns at the change in topic. Or perhaps there was never a topic to begin with. She’s so tired. “Do you need something?” she asks.

Beca doesn’t respond for a moment, then she heaves a sigh as if she is irritated or exasperated. “It plays music,” she murmurs, somehow both reverent and impatient.

Chloe nearly sags in relief. It takes additional energy to further not burst into peals of giggles and risk waking Beca up. “You’re so cute,” she mutters, this time reaching over to gently touch Beca’s cheek to check if she is really asleep. Beca doesn’t bat her hand away. She manages to finally lie down comfortably, sighing in contentment when she does not jostle Beca too much. Instead, it is Beca who seems to wriggle backwards into Chloe’s side, uncomfortably trapping Chloe’s arm to her side.

As Chloe drifts off, she makes a mental note to tease Beca about it tomorrow after their performance. And maybe ask Beca if she wants to get coffee. Or maybe a quick bite for dinner. Just them.

“Just the way you are,” Beca murmurs, sounding more tired than before.

Chloe tries not to smile. Beca does not speak again for the rest of the time Chloe remains awake.

– – – – – – – – – –

ii.

Sometimes when Beca sleeptalks, she sings, apparently.

Chloe thinks it is the most adorable thing in the world. She barely restrains from protesting loudly when she overhears Amy complaining about being Beca's roommate – she complains about how Beca is always singing. Awake or dreaming, it doesn't matter to Beca.

The other Bellas giggle.

It is so beautiful to know that Beca lives and breathes music – that it thrums through her veins as poignantly as her own blood.

Chloe hopes to be able to hear it one day.

– – – – – – – – – –

iii.

"Grab me the keyboard," Beca mutters.

Chloe groans, blinking awake because she knows she has an early morning. As awesome as it is that Beca sometimes whispers when she sleeptalks, it is kind of inconvenient to Chloe now that they share a tiny cramped fold-out. Chloe had tried earplugs, but it had nearly made her late for her first day of work because she missed her own alarm.

She doesn't mind it terribly, she thinks as she rolls over to face Beca. Beca is lying on her back, breathing steadily. Her brow is furrowed like she's thinking hard about something important. Chloe hopes it isn't the residual strain and stress of her recent break-up with Jesse.

Slowly, Chloe reaches out to gently touch the furrow of Beca's brow, willing her to relax and slip back into a (hopefully silent sleep).

Still, never one to resist a conversation with Beca, Chloe scoots a little closer. "What are you thinking about?" she asks, wondering if Beca is done for the night. She slowly moves her hand back and away from Beca's face.

"Wait."

Chloe freezes.

"The jukebox," Beca mutters. "Song."

"The jukebox song?" Chloe asks.

Beca mumbles something incoherent, then shifts a little restlessly. Chloe quickly backs away, worried she overstepped an invisible boundary. She hates that her inappropriate crush on her best friend never really went away – she hates the late nights and long days pretending that she isn't completely in love with Beca Mitchell. Beca and all her quirks and music and the way she makes Chloe feel like she's doing something right with her life.

Beca doesn't respond again for another long while, so Chloe resettles on her side of the bed and mirrors Beca's position. She stares up at the ceiling for some time, wondering.

Then, just as she is about to finally drift off again–

"Chloe."

Beca's voice follows her into her dreams.

– – – – – – – – – –

iv.

Sometimes when Beca sleep talks, it is of great interest to Chloe. Not that she isn’t interested in literally everything her girlfriend has to say because Chloe could listen to Beca talk forever (awake or otherwise), but just, sometimes –

Chloe awakes to the sound of her alarm. She groans and slowly grapples for her phone off her bedside to hit the snooze button.

“Hey,” Chloe whispers, when Beca shifts against her back.

Beca groans, then mumbles something completely incoherent. Her arm tenses from where it is draped around Chloe’s waist, then Beca cuddles closer than before.

With how they're lying, curled up against each other, Beca is basically all wrapped around Chloe, her leg draped over Chloe’s thigh to lock Chloe in place. Not that she plans on being anywhere else. Not when Beca's body is warm and Chloe is essentially waking up to her own personal heated blanket.

Beca groans and shifts against Chloe’s back. Her groan sounds like a moan more than anything else.

Chloe especially loves when Beca has interesting dreams.

"Chloe," Beca whimpers.

Oh. Then there's that. The unmistakable whine in Beca's whimper and the way she rocks subtly against Chloe.

"Beca," she whispers back, whether this at all translates into Beca's dreams. Whether she is egging Beca along or slowly waking her up.

There is something in the way Beca says her name – soft and full of wanting. Like she has been dreaming of Chloe all night and she can no longer control herself.

As curious as Chloe is to see where this goes – to see what else Beca can say, she is more interested in what Beca can do.

So she twists in Beca's arms, causing her girlfriend's eyes to flutter open, revealing unmistakable desire behind the haze of confusion typical to somebody when they are just waking.

"Oh," Chloe says, gently nudging at Beca's body so she's lying prone. She presses slow, languid kisses to Beca's neck "Good dream?"

– – – – – – – – – –

Beca is rarely delegated to the couch, but sometimes she just rides the every last edges of Chloe’s nerves and they say things they don’t mean.

Chloe can see the exhaustion in her girlfriend’s eyes, but it doesn’t dim the hurt she feels. It just makes her heart tense painfully. She wishes more than anything for Beca to just talk to her – for Beca to just let her in, but it feels like the walls get higher and higher.

Chloe doesn’t want to beg, but she’s not above doing just that. She can’t lose Beca – not like this.

Sighing in aggravation when she hears only the oppressive silence of her bedroom. No sound of Beca’s teeth grinding together. No sight of Beca drooling on her pillow. No sensation of Beca’s hand wrapped up in Chloe’s t-shirt tightly like she’s afraid to let go.

Chloe wraps her robe around her shoulders and slowly opens her bedroom door. She winces at each creak in the wood panelling, but each step means she gets to be close to Beca again.

She can see the lump that makes up Beca’s body on the couch in the darkness and as her eyes from the streetlights outside her window, more features begin to stand out to her.

Chloe sighs when she notices that Beca has kicked her fleece blanket to the ground. Gathering it up, she pulls it up to Beca's shoulders, ensuring Beca is neatly tucked in.

"Don't go," Beca says, a little loudly. Chloe startles and freezes in her ministrations. She waits a moment and realizes Beca is asleep. Of course she is.

Chloe waits another moment longer before sighing again. "Where would I even go without you?" Chloe replies quietly, knowing she is speaking to Beca's subconsciousness. Knowing that there will be more time for them to talk tomorrow. And the days that follow. She sighs and sits on the loveseat next to the couch, simply watching Beca's face for a moment. "What would I do without you?" she ponders, willing her tears to stay at bay.

"Hey, that's Chloe's!"

Chloe would laugh if she weren't feeling so sad about their fight. Beca legitimately sounds upset about something – verging on angry.

Chloe wonders for a moment how emotions manifest in a person's sleep habits. How emotions control the way your body reacts to new sleeping environments. How human it is to just want to be the subject of somebody's dreams – to be wanted and desired all the same.

"Do you know where it is?" Beca asks, voice muffled against the couch. Chloe smiles and shakes her head. She stands so she can gently move Beca's hair away from her face. Beca is practically pressing her entire face into the back of the couch.

"You're going to suffocate, nerd," Chloe comments, attempting to maneuver Beca's shoulder. She doesn't have to do much work because Beca is rolling over on her own. She sprawls as best as she can on the couch, similar to how she sprawls in their bed. Chloe is filled with utmost affection for the sleeping woman in front of her.

"Headphones," Beca says after a moment. "For your voice."

Then she begins to snore.

"I love you," Chloe murmurs, leaning down again so she can press a kiss to Beca's ear. She lingers, wondering whether touch can translate into sound. She hopes Beca dreams of the most wonderful things.

There is always tomorrow.

– – – – – – – – – –

vi.

“You’re never leaving again,” Chloe declares. She wraps her arms around Beca’s waist and cuddles into her side, ignoring Beca’s grumbles about cold feet and cold hands. “I missed you so much,” she murmurs, pressing a kiss to Beca’s cheek, sloppy and light.

She is so happy to have Beca back in her arms. This tour has been grueling.

She tells Beca as much, only to receive an amused chuckle in response before Beca is pressing a kiss to her forehead, then to her nose, then with some playful coaxing – and Chloe’s playful grumbling – a kiss to Chloe’s lips.

Chloe sinks into Beca’s touch like it is their first kiss all over again.

Slowly, Beca allows Chloe to ease her back on the bed and remind her exactly what she has missed during her time away.

– – – – – – – – – –

When Chloe wakes, she is disoriented because of how comfortable she is. She had been sleeping uncomfortably for the past two months because Beca had been away and she had gotten used to the sensation of falling asleep alone and of waking up alone.

She is not alone now, however. She does not need to open her eyes to know that she has her nose pressed into Beca's hair. The familiar smell of gentle, flowery shampoo and the accompanying sensation of Beca's soft, curly hair. Her arm is tucked around Beca's middle securely, like even in her sleep Chloe was unwilling to let her go again.

Good, she thinks, flexing her arm for a moment in a burst of possession and love. Stay forever.

"You're never leaving," she says aloud.

She doesn't expect Beca to respond because Beca's breathing is steady and slow, like she is asleep and resting fitfully. Chloe kind of expects that after all the travelling and performing. Beca works too hard.

She is surprised however, when Beca seems to sigh in her sleep. "Marry me," she says softly.

Chloe freezes. Her limbs stiffen and her brain seems to shut down. All that's left is the pounding of her heart.

She wishes so much for Beca to be awake so that she can give Beca the most enthusiastic and resounding yes she can muster.

But the fact that the thought is on Beca's mind somewhere is enough for the moment. It is enough for the moment that Chloe knows she can hope for that in their future with more confidence.

Of course, Beca would randomly propose to her while sleeptalking. It is so opportune. Chloe has only ever fallen in love slowly with Beca with these private moments – well, pseudo-private. Moments where she can dream and imagine exactly what goes on in Beca's mind. The things she doesn't tell Chloe. Random thoughts and ideas.

It feels kind of ironic that there have been all those one-sided conversations Chloe has had with Beca. Now she wishes desperately for Beca to wake up and join her so they can take this step together. It is additionally more poignant that Chloe has felt less and less inclined to react at all to Beca's sleeptalking because she finds that the real thing is so much better. Beca is open and vibrant and so, so beautiful that it bothers Chloe any moment that Beca isn't awake and making Chloe's day a little brighter.

She sighs and resigns herself to falling back asleep, at least until they can wake up together and decide what take-out to order.

Then, Beca shifts and turns in her arms.

Her eyes are wide-open and she looks a little frightened. "Chloe?" she rasps. "Did you–?"

It takes Chloe a long time to catch up because she's surprised to see Beca's eyes staring back at her.

"Are you asleep?" is what she manages to ask when her mouth catches up to her brain, even if Beca is staring straight at her. Beca, with messy hair and flushed cheeks and a blooming hickey on her neck. Yikes, Chloe thinks distractedly before she lifts her eyes back to Beca's face again.

"Chloe," Beca says softly. "Marry me."

"Am I asleep?" Chloe asks, weaker this time. Her heart continues to pound even as her body slowly unfreezes.

Beca looks like she's trying not to laugh even if desperation shines from her eyes like anchors keeping Chloe at bay. "Chloe," she implores. "Please, will you marry me?"

"A hundred times yes," Chloe finally manages to say. She pinches herself, then she pinches Beca. At Beca's yelp and the residual pain in her own arm, Chloe nods as best as she can, tangling her hair even more as it rubs against her pillow. She could care less. "Beca, yes. I just – I thought you were asleep!" she exclaims.

"I'm not asleep," Beca says. Her hands are a little shaky as she pulls Chloe in for a deep kiss. "I love you," she murmurs. "I love you so much and I never want to be without you."

"This isn't a dream," Chloe mumbles against Beca's mouth. She repeats it, eventually losing steam because Beca is covering her mouth more efficiently with her own and her hands start to wander. "But ask me again–" she pants out, as Beca's lips descend lower, down her chest and stomach.

Beca does, over and over.

#bechloe #beca mitchell #chloe beale #mine #my fanfic #text #pitch perfect #pp for pp #fundraiser

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prinxietys · 7 years ago

Text

A Sides Quest Chapter 1

Summary: Fantasy AU. Roman, Virgil, Patton, and Logan. Four participants in an adventure have set out on a long journey that goes wrong far too soon. Split up, injured, perhaps gone from this world, it’s up to them to find their way, and end this quest. Before it ends them.

Warnings: swearing, character injury, some minor graphic depictions of violence, violence, this is a fantasy au so also magic and fairies and fun stuff like that

“That fucking Prince.”

“Language, Virgil.”

“You are literally bleeding out, Logan is probably at the bottom of the lake, and Roman is all but dead. Now is not the time Patton!” Virgil snapped as he pressed harder against the others side.

“Shit, Virge! Watch it!”

“Language.”

They both fell silent, Patton’s labored breathing and the crackling fire the most prominent sound along the clearing. Virgil kept a constant vigil on Patton, as the younger hurriedly smashed some random odds and ends Patton couldn’t place in a mortar and pestle. Patton’s face seemed to have lost all color he had gained along this journey.

“The- the bleeding won’t stop,” He gasped as he shifted a hand on his side, feeling a new gush of blood soaking his fingers. “Virg- Virgil, I-”

Before he could finish, Virgil leaned forward and had shoved a small wad of herbs in his mouth. A wad of putrid tasting herbs that made Patton want to vomit.

“Swallow. It’ll dull the pain.”

With a grimace, and prayer, Patton chewed and swallowed whatever the fuck Virgil had given him.

“Now bite down on this.”

“Virgil?” Patton’s voice was a gasp and his vision was darkening. Virgil forced the cloth into Patton’s mouth and took a deep breath.

“I’m sorry.”

Virgil moved Patton’s hand from the wound, and Patton cried into the cloth as the split skin opened again.

“Breathe Pat, breathe,” Virgil placed a hand on his clammy face and forced him to look at him. “My eyes Patton. Look only at my eyes,” Virgil tried smiling, but nothing could hide the horror in his eyes.

“Right here-”

Patton screamed, the sound forcing it’s way past his gag and into the night air. The splitting, searing pain in his side caused his vision to white, and soon it was all dark.

“You’re okay, you’re alright. Patton, you’ll be okay.” He woke up to these words and unbearable warmth.

“Patti?”

“Wha hpped?”

There was a pause.

“You’re alive.”

“Virge?”

He blinked open his eyes, and found he was in a tent, one that certainly didn’t exist when he had lost consciousness last night.

“Virgil-”

The warmth got hotter and his vision was obscured by black one again. Was he losing consciousness?”

“Ow, shoot!” He hissed as a burning sensation spread through his side.

“Sorry,” The light came back, and he found it had been Virgil blocking his view. Virgil, who’s hair was longer, and skin dirtier, and clothes heavier and-

“Virgil, where’s your front tooth? Virgil are you crying?!”

The man shook his head and wiped a gloved hand across his face. His scarred and battered face.

“Say that again.”

“Say what?”

“Anything.”

He laughed. Virgil laughed, and Patton had never been so confused.

“Virgil, what in the name of Elon is going on?”

“Two months?”

Virgil nodded.

Patton sat, stiff, against the wall of the…. Ground.

“How-”

“You were so weak,” Virgil explained from where he was cooking over a well beaten kettle. “You wouldn’t eat or drink for the first few days I thought-” He fell silent.

“He’s alive,” He whispered, barely loud enough for Patton to hear.

“What’s happened? Since I- Since I’ve been asleep? Why did I-”

Fear flashed across his companions face, and Patton felt something deadly set in the pit of his stomach.

“Virgil?”

“The wound. If it had kept bleeding…. I would have lost you.”

“What are you- did you stop the bleeding?”

Virgil hesitated before nodding.

“How?”

He stayed still before pulling a short sword from its scabbard nearby.

“Cauterized it.”

The searing, blinding pain- the screaming. It all came back in a single moment.

“That was-”

“I had no choice!” The frantic man practically yelled, “You would have died!” He hid his face in his hands. “I don’t know how you survived.”

“Virgil.”

There was no response.

“You did good.”

Virgil looked up.

“Thank you.”

That was all it took, and Virgil was sobbing into the others chest, wails echoing in the air, stirring the wildlife from their slumber. Tears soaked the furs they wore, and breaths choked on cold air.

Patton waited, Lord knew Virgil needed this, until his tears had subsided and he was resting against Pattons chest in silence.

“Virgil?”

There was a nod in response.

“Tell me everything.”

“It’s okay, I’ve got you.”

Virgil laid his friend down across the ground, the other no longer restless with pain. In fact, he seemed to lay in a mockery of death.

“I’ve got you.”

He didn’t remove his eyes from the other as he grabbed a cloth and wet it in the boiling pot of water, and wiped the blood carefully from around the wound in the others side.

“You’ll be okay.”

For the night, he cared for his friend. Cleaning his skin, moving his limbs to keep the blood (what was left) flowing. Any water he tried to give the other simply flowed down his chin, and Virgil had to stop himself from panicking at the sight.

Patton would wake up tomorrow, and drink, he would be fine for tonight.

Virgil did not sleep that first night.

Or the second.

When the third night had come and pass, he knew he was running out of time.

The wound had cauterized cleanly, no sign of infection, but patton seemed to be getting worse. He wouldn’t eat or drink. Nothing Virgil made was working. He had tried using a cup, a spoon, tried at least getting him to drink water even if he had to give it to him from mouth to mouth. Nothing worked.

When he woke up the fourth day, he was losing all of the little hope he had. And it left when he woke before the sun rose, a thin layer of white covering him, the campsite, and a blue Patton.

“Shit! No no no!” He quickly grabbed the other pulling him close and pulling the only blanket -which had been over Patton- around them both. Like that, he lit a fire out of the small amount of kindling that was dry at the bottom of his pile and held them both almost entirely over the pitiful flame.

“We’re gonna be okay,” He whispered past his shivers. He ran his hands quickly over Patton’s hands. “We’ll be alright, Patton.”

“Vir…”

“Patton?!”

He looked to the other but there wasn’t a word more. He didn’t need another word.

He grabbed a knife and used the hilt to break the thin surface of ice covering the water pot and drank a large gulp, tipped Patton’s head back, and made him drink.

He swallowed.

Virgil could have wept had he not been so dehydrated himself.

“P-Patt-t-ton.”

He removed his coat, wrapping it around Patton and holding him until all warmth seemed to seep from him and into the other.

“We’re gonna survive.”

He didn’t know how he’d do it, but he knew he would. They both would.

Once Patton was warm enough, Virgil laid him down beside the fire. The sun was high enough, and the frost had long melted.

First, he needed….. First he needed a lot of things. Lots, he had to get supplies, and food. Shelter was absolute. Food, Patton needed food. What food-

He took a breath.

He couldn’t afford to panic. Not if they wanted to live.

The first thing he took care of, was food.

Small food.

He gathered local plants, berries, nuts. All of it. Any of it. He’d sort it later and pick out the good from the bad.

He next worked on wood. Lots of it. Breaking bushes to the core. Snapping branches. All sizes, all weights. The day was gone before he knew the sun was setting, and he barely made it to camp in time to find his flint.

He hadn’t gotten nearly anything done that day.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow he would do more.

And Tomorrow, he did.

He spent the morning, after caring for Patton in a way that would soon become routine, setting traps for small bait in nearby areas. Snares, harnesses, cages. It all was bent, twisted, molded- from twigs, mud, creeper vine. Anything he got his hands on. It was, if nothing else, primal, but it would work for now.

He went to the lake that afternoon, and searched every bank and swampy marsh around it. He found not a single sign of Logan. He dove in the water, swam where he was sure he fell, but he couldn’t find him. He couldn’t reach the bottom of the lake.

He came out of the lake, freezing and disheartened, when he saw it. Logan’s pack.

He felt tears leaking out, but walked over to the singed, torn pack and hoisted it up into his arms and made his way back to camp, fingers tracing the insignia of the cape bundled and strapped to the front. The insignia all four of them had worn. The insignia now only two of them owned.

Back at camp, he warmed himself, and Patton once more, and began sorting supplies.

Logan had, ever the scribe, had quite a bit of parchment in his bag, basic essential supplies such as a small bit of smoked meat, a dagger of no value, his inks which had somehow managed to avoid spilling. Even after he had been thrown from side to side, the glass vials managed to hold their shape.

“Sorry, Lo,” he muttered as he dumped the ink onto the ground and rinsed the vials. He had no use for something as trivial as ink. His journals- Virgil didn’t dare touch those. He kept them safe in their wrapped bundles.

Logan had been carrying many herbs, and Virgil found himself tearing up at the sight of so many dried ingredients. Bless that idiotic man.

There also was another blanket of wool, and some warmer weather gear that was immediately wrapped around Patton.

“Not as much as I’d like, but we were all splitting the load.” He ran a hand through his hair, and sighed when it came back dripping in mud.

The sight made him chuckle.

“Roman would kill me if he saw me this way.”

Roman.

Virgil had tried his hardest not to think of the Prince they had all failed.

Who had been taken on their watch.

And even now, he would not think of the fate which had befallen the Prince. He couldn’t. His heart would not be able to bear it.

He took a deep breath and looked up to the sky. The sun was only a few hours from setting and he still had to check his traps.

He put all things of value into the pack. Which meant practically everything. He would make use of every single stitch of cloth, gram of plant herbs, every morsel of food. It all went in the pack, and with that, he dug a quick hole -not too shallow, but not as deep as he would have liked- in the ground, and buried it.

He wrapped Logan’s cape tightly around his shoulders, and checked over Patton once more before heading out.

His first two traps were dishearteningly empty, not even a sign of a rustle in the fallen leaves and pine needles.

The third held a hare which he quickly took care of and hung from his pack. He had never been good with hunting. Roman was always the one to catch dinner for them. Virgil didn’t have the heart to do so.

He supposed, when the situation was this dire, not having a heart was what was needed.

Luck seemed to be turning in his favor as he found another hare, and a field mouse caught in two other traps.

However, as he came upon one of his final traps, his blood ran cold.

There was a hare, torn apart and bloody still strung up in the snare.

He quickly took the whole trap down and dug another shallow hole, burying everything touched by even a single touch of blood.

Predators.

If they were nearby, he had to keep a more vigilant eye-

Patton.

He turned from the small dirt mound and sprinted as fast as his weighted pack allowed him to the campsite. He stopped after a few hundred feet. Blood, his bag was soaked in blood. Okay, he needed to think-

Logan.

He ran to the lake, specifically where Logan had been attacked. Somewhere, in the grass he would find it.

He searched along the ground, in the bushes, stirring up pheasants, mice, rabbits- he ignored them all.

There!

He couldn’t believe his luck upon sighting the quiver end sticking out of a bush. He dashed over and removed it, it’s arrows laying all over the ground, some snapped in two.

The bow….

The bow string had snapped.

His heart twinged, but he quickly suppressed it. He could make a new string. He could do it.

He gathered every last piece of the bow and arrows, and trekked back to camp, much more careful now than before. His pack was bloody and the last thing he needed was to lure a much more dangerous creature than rabbits back to Patton.

The thought made him speed up just a little.

Back at camp, things were at peace. Exactly as he had left it.

His legs trembled and almost gave out beneath him. A terror had placed itself in his heart unknown, and the relief that had flooded him almost took his balance from him.

He had to care for these animals and quick. At the very least, get them where no predator would get them.

When the sun had set, he knew he had to give up. The hole was nowhere deep enough. He could only pray.

He laid the animal corpses in his torn and tattered blanket, wrapping them as airtight as he could before burying them and packing the dirt down hard.

He lit the fire, pulled Patton into his lap, and watched as the entire night passed.

The following day, he couldn’t put it off any longer, and began to prepare a shelter. He found the largest tree in the nearby forestry, and began his digging at its base. By midday, he had split bleeding hands, and a hole about two feet deep by five feet wide.

He returned to the campsite, which was at the most fifty feet away, and took care of Patton, checking his wound, giving him mashed berries and water, before wrapping his hands in strips he tore from his tunic and returning to his dig.

“We will survive.”

He told himself as his hand slipped against a rock, slicing open the palm.

“We will live.”

He whispered as he ignored the blood gushing from the wound and caked with dirt as he dug further and further. Around the roots, down and down.

“I will save you.”

He said, not noticing the creaking of leaves as soft padded feet approached from behind.

“You will-”

He screamed as a heavyweight hit him from behind, throwing him chest first into the hole and defenseless.

His face went headfirst into the rock that had already sliced him open, causing a rush of blood to burst forth from his mouth.

Terrible tearing pain tore down his back and he screamed at the burning warmth, the pain that spread throughout his entire body.

He reached behind himself in a blind attempt to knock his attacker off, but was only meant with terrible pain pinching down on his forearm.

He spun his head as his arm was pulled and ripped at viciously.

Mountain Lion.

The fear that coursed through him in that moment could not be measured.

For himself. For Patton.

His other arm, pinned beneath him, struggled against all the weight to find its way to his sword handle. And when he grabbed it it took all his strength to draw it, pull it out and slice open his side in the process, and swing it blindly behind him.

The edge just hit the creature, hard enough to cut, not deep enough to do serious damage.

Still, it released his mangled arm and jumped out of the way of steel and Virgil barely had time to roll out of the way before it had lunged into the hole again.

He scrambled back, a hard endeavor with one hand clinging desperately to a shortsword and injured beyond belief.

The mountain lion stood, staring him down and ready to attack at any moment. And when it did, he would have but one chance to-

Swing!

He raised his arm, and brought his sword down with all his might, the blade biting into the animals side with enough for to jam in a rib.

The lion fell, trembling in pain, but otherwise still.

Virgil couldn’t bare the sight.

It growled, it roared, it thrashed, but it would never move again. Virgil knew what he had to do, but-

He closed his eyes, and did what he had to.

And then he cried.

He laid across the body of the large cat, and he sobbed, begged for forgiveness, begged for help, asked for the animal’s safe passage to the next life, prayed, and cried more. He cried for long minutes. From terror, from grief, from pain. It all swirled inside of him and released itself in his screams and tears.

And like that, he passed out.

When he came to, he was lying beside Patton. His arm and side wrapped and injuries on the mend.

He hadn’t a clue how he had gotten their, and for a brief moment he thought maybe he had succumbed to his wounds, but the pain was too real.

He had no clue how he had survived. Hadn’t a thought of how his wounds had been treated. And once his mind was coherent enough, he wouldn’t understand how the lion was given proper rights and how they now with a warm pelt as a blanket.

He would come to the conclusion that he had, in a bleary and almost dreamlike state done it all. His survival instincts taking over. Fighting instead of fleeing.

It was hard to believe, especially for him, but it was the only option he had available. And so, it was the story he clung to.

In the following weeks, he would face unbearable hardship. With a wrecked arm (no broken bones, but screwed up flesh and muscle), and a side that had been cauterized, in some cruel twist of fate, to almost precisely match that of Patton’s, he would have to work twice as hard, endure twice as much, and survive, twice as rough as he had been doing.

But they would survive.

Virgil would come to dig out a den for him and Patton to live.

He would build up a hearth of clay and mud and stone, and keep Patton safe and warm and dry.

He would learn to craft his own arrows. He would fix his bow and become an excellent marksman. He would learn to hunt as none of the others had ever done before.

Virgil would learn how to survive.

#long post #fanfiction #a sides quest #anxiety sanders #morality sanders #virgil sanders #patton sanders #sanders sides #sander sides

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lovelyirony · 7 years ago

Text

Hey Neighbor

pt. 2 of this au. enjoy!

Pepper finally meets Hot-Steve. “Oh my god,” she whispers, whipping her head out from peeking behind the door. “You found Hot Steve.”

“I know,” Tony hisses. “And he’s cute and wears stupid white tank tops and he doesn’t look like a dick and help me Pepper I don’t know what to do.” Pepper gives Tony a look that lets him know that there is nothing she can do to prevent feelings, unfortunately.

“You’re talking with Natasha on Friday, you’ll be fine Tony. Probably. He is pretty cute.”

“He’s not cute!” Tony says. “He’s hotter than the sun! His smile could melt diamonds!” Pepper snorts. “Pepper, help,” Tony whines. “I have feelings. They suck.”

“Congrats, we finally have the proof you’re human,” Pepper says. She pats his cheek. “I’m getting lunch with a client today, text me if he takes his shirt off. And maybe send a picture.”

Tony has to step into the office for a while, so he does so until six, after which he promptly buys a bottle of the good red wine and goes to Natasha’s house.

She opens the door before he even knocks. “You’re late,” she says, lips pursed.

“You never specified a time?” Tony poses. “I brought you California wine.”

“Gimme.”

Tony is wrapped up in his favorite blanket that she owns with a glass of wine in his hands.

“New neighbor. You like him. His name is Steve. He used to be in the military, now works as a freelance artist. He has a website. I bought a painting. I can’t wait to see his face when it’s delivered and I invite him over three weeks from now to view it.”

“Why does it take three weeks?”

“Suspense.”

“Oh. Okay.”

They watch a show for a while, some family-oriented cheesy crap that Natasha loves. Then, of course, Natasha has to mention it.

“You like Hot Neighbor.”

“Shut up, Claire was just about to realize that the nice, small-town restaurant owner likes her.”

“You’re avoiding the question because you’re uncomfortable with talking about emotions due to familial problems.”

“Literally not surprising, my therapist has said that before. God, tell me something surprising.” Natasha snorts.

“So, you don’t deny it.” Tony shrugs.

“Have you seen him? In the white tank top?”

“I thought old man Lee would’ve fallen out of the window.” Tony laughs at the idea: Stan had been part of the building longer than it had been apartment buildings. “So,” Natasha says. “What’s your go-to plan?”

“Stare longingly and hope he catches on that I like him and asks me out tentatively on a date.” Natasha stares at him.

“You are a disgrace.”

“Impossible, I’ve got no grace to ruin,” Tony quips. “It’s fine. I’m just going to realize that nothing is going to happen, and he’s probably going to move out of the apartment and have a nice partner to marry and a nice picket fence with two-point-five kids, and I’ll be here. Listening to music. And crying.”

“So basically, your average Sunday.”

“Yeah, basically.”

The problem with apartments is that Tony has to leave Natasha’s soon. So he kind of stumbles out (he’s tipsy from the wine, he has good taste,) and low and behold, there is Steve. In a black tank top.

“You’re mixing it up, aren’t you?” Tony says. “You usually wear white.”

“Laundry day,” Steve explains. “Can’t wear that one all the time, can I?” Tony nods.

“That makes...sense. Not math sense, though.”

Natasha’s head pokes out of her door.

“Rogers, he’s had a little too much red wine. Forgive him.” Steve laughs. Tony thinks it sounds better than Pepper’s stupid “sleepy-time ambient noise” playlists. It sounds better than any music.

“Your laugh is pretty,” Tony informs him.

“Thanks,” Steve says. “I’ve never had that kind of compliment before.” Tony nods.

“I am...going to my apartment. To sleep.” Steve laughs at this.

“Goodnight, Tony. Have a good night’s sleep.”

“I think I will,” Tony yawns. “Goodnight. I think.”

He can’t get the key in the door. This used to be easier. He tries to concentrate, and then realizes that maybe his coordination is down. (Tony did, after all, drink three glasses. It was good, okay?)

“Want help with that?”

“Hello, we just spoke,” Tony says with a yawn. “My key will not fit. I think my coordination is not good.”

Steve gets the door open. He smells good. Like really good cologne and paint.

“Goodnight, Tony.”

“You smell, like, really good.”

He wakes up the next morning with a slight headache and mortification. “Why the hell did you do what you did?” He asks himself. “Oh my god, you told him?? That he smells good??? What the fuck? “What the fuck.” Tony decides to not leave the apartment until he dies. Because oh god, how is he going to face Steve again?

He decides on not ever leaving and texting Rhodey his grocery list. I’m not getting u ur groceries u shit

pls rhodey i can’t leave i told steve he smelled good WHO DOES THAT

oh my god ur such a loser lmao i’m telling nat

Tony doesn’t know how Rhodey and Nat became friends. Rhodey doesn’t even live in the same apartment complex, and Rhodey has only met her, like, five times over the course of six months. Somehow, they were friends. No one gave an explanation.

Rhodey still refuses to get Tony food. Tony has already run out of his chips and soda, and is now rationing out the candy Jarvis had gotten him for Christmas. It was the ribbon candy, which was alright, but not for actual, outside-of-holiday consumption.

Dammit.

So, he must go grocery shopping. Tony silently gets out of his apartment, looking outside. No sign of Steve yet, so this is automatically good.

Steve is outside, staring forlornly at his motorcycle. “Hey,” Tony says awkwardly. If he doesn’t say anything, then it’s even more awkward. “What’s wrong with the bike? Did it kill somebody?”

If Tony could just fake his death right then and there, he would. God, he’s so bad at words when he likes somebody. Or shows genuine concern, really.

“My bike broke down again,” Steve says. “Last mechanic I went to was a piece of crap, overcharged me for a job he couldn’t even get done.”

“I can take a look,” Tony says. “I know all about bikes.”

He doesn’t even regard Steve for about ten minutes. “Yup, your mechanic was crap. Ultimately crap. It looks like he used placebos on a motorcycle, and I’m not even sure how one can actually use placebos.” Steve laughs at this. “Let me get my tools, I’ll be right back.”

Bucky, eventually, comes over to see Steve’s new apartment. It’s better than his old, crap apartment that had a specific way to lock the door and took three minutes to do.

Instead, he sees Steve on the back porch, writing down something or other with a stranger--with a cute butt, hello--working on his motorcycle. Steve won’t let just anyone touch the bike.

“Hi Bucky!” Steve says. “Nice to see you!” Bucky gets greeted with a side-hug and a glimpse of the sketchbook; it’s all improvements made to the bike. Way above his salary.

“Hello,” comes a distant call from the bike. “How are you? Why did your parents name you that?”

“I named myself that,” Bucky said. “When I was eight and hated my president name.”

“Your parents named you ‘James Buchanan Barnes’? Unfortunate.”

“How’d you figure that out so fast?” Bucky asks.

“Okay well only one president could actually have that nickname, and there’s only one president really worth being named after. Anyone who argues that Henry Taylor is a good name is wrong because he was a bad man who has weird portraits.” Bucky shrugs. He can follow that reasoning. “I’d offer to shake your hand, but I’m working on this bike, and it’s going well. I’ve gotten a lot of problems out.”

“How much does he owe?” Tony’s face pops out of the bike. It’s streaked in grime.

“Um...a sandwich? I meant to go grocery shopping, and the only thing I ate beforehand was Christmas ribbon candy.” Bucky’s head snaps to Steve’s.

It’s obvious. Steve likes this little nerd.

“Go get him a sandwich,” Bucky mutters. “Go, make him one. He hasn’t eaten in like, two hours probably.” Steve gets ushered into the apartment building. Tony is left working on a bike with Bucky awkwardly standing.

“So um, you’re Tony?”

“Yup. You’re Bucky.”

“So, why’d you fix the punk’s motorcycle?” Tony looks up and blinks, like the answer’s obvious.

“Well, it’s broken.” Son of a bitch. This is why Steve likes him. Tony is honest, cute, and he likes to fix things. No wonder Steve said he really liked his new apartment.

Steve comes back with a sandwich on a plate and a glass of Coca-Cola. “Here you go,” he says. Tony chirps as he sits on the stoop and eats a sandwich.

“Thank you for including mustard,” Tony says. “I like mustard.” Bucky gives an eyebrow to Steve.

“Did you take the stairs?” Bucky asks. Steve’s ears turn pink. “Who did you spill soda on?”

“Deadly redhead who may or may not have committed murder. Seems your type.”

“How long are you banned from entering?”

“According to her? Six years and thirty-five minutes.”

“I better move in, then,” Bucky jokes.

“Hey Steve?” Bucky snorts; his friend’s head turns around so fast at the sound of Tony that someone would think that he was trying to break the record for speed.

God, Steve is so screwed.

#hey neighbor au #i just realized i was supposed to be doing other things #oh well this was better #steve is a NERD #to be fair tony is a complete disaster #natasha is a goblin #like an absolute goblin

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talesmaniac89 · 7 years ago

Text

The Mexican Standoff

Summary: Reader & Winchesters (Friendship). The reader sets out to prove to the Winchesters that she’s the most badass hunter in the bunker.

Word Count: 2872

Triggers: None

Y/N = Your name

---

It was time.

The “Annie get your gun”-esque verbal battle of anything you can do I can do better had gone on for far too long and it was time to find out which one of you were the actual undisputed champion of ass kickings. Which, of course, was you… The boys just didn’t know it yet.

For the last few weeks Dean, Sam and you had taken turns basically bragging about your skills with a weapon and all three of you seemed to believe you were the true reincarnation of Billy the Kid, with the two others just being cheap souvenir shop imitations. Sure you knew that you were the ultimate fucking badass, but the Winchesters seemed to need a refresher course. So yeah, it was definitely time.

That morning, fueled by the almighty power of one-upping and a cup of coffee so strong it was a miracle it didn’t burn through the cup, you’d snuck out of the bunker to collect the three weapons you’d stashed outside two days earlier. Dropping by the all night diner to get your victory meal for later whilst you were out. ‘Cause there was no better way to rub your victory in the Winchester boys’ faces than to do so with powdered donuts.

Before even Sammy had deigned it a reasonable time to get up, you’d placed a colourful Nerf gun and a handful of bullet darts outside of each Winchester’s bedroom door. Accompanied by a nice little note made from newspaper cutouts telling them, quite poetically if you’d say so yourself, to “Bring it bitches”. Ooooh yeah, it was definitely time to set the record straight.

You’d been planning your little wild west standoff for a few days by then. The two brothers you hunted with were just as ready to one-up each other as they were you. But being brothers they also stood up for each other. Meaning that usually it was your shooting skills that were pulled into question. Even though both of them kept dropping their damned guns during hunts and you had an iron grip on yours. And so, you’d developed this little plan to whoop their asses and once and for all show them that you were the ultimate gunfighter, up there with John Wayne and Clint Eastwood.

You’d even found the perfect place to put your trophy, ‘cause of course you’d bought a trophy. Bragging rights were good and all, but they weren’t as visually pleasing as a big ass trophy that pronounced you the ultimate ass kicker. Sure, the trophy was one of those cheap plastic ones, and the only one in the store that fit was a soccer one that said “best shot”, but hell.. You’d take it.

After ninjaing your way over to their doors and leaving your little love note/challenge letter, you’d snuck back into your room like you were a goddamn cat burglar to get ready for what promised to be a day of you kicking Winchester ass.

Hell you’d even gotten the Rambo look down by adding a headband to your dark jeans and tank top combination and using your makeup to add just a touch of warpaint. Warpaint stripes were after all the new blush, Vogue just hadn’t caught up with the times yet.

Sneaking back into the library you found yourself a spot where you could easily spot any incoming enemy attacks, yet still safely retreat to another room when necessary. And then… Then you waited.

---

“Hey! No shooting before I’m ready Dean!” Sam’s grumpy voice echoed through the hallway and over to where you were still hiding. Ok, so at some point you’d gotten up and grabbed yourself a bite to eat and something to drink, cause the boys had slept in, but you’d mainly been lying in wait. Crouching down you smirked as you listened to the slightly muted back and forth as the two boys decided on a momentary truce until they could get out of the exposed hallway.

Oh, it was on.

Grabbing your gun you focused on the door. Watching and waiting until Sam came in the door. Dean was nowhere to be found however. Most likely the older hunter probably decided to head off to another part of the bunker. Staying patient you waited until Sam was more or less out in the open in the room and looking around with the Nerf gun in his hand resting by his hip instead of raised into firing position. Easy shot.

Straightening up a little you fired a quick shot at the hunter. Unfortunately just missing him as the big guy somehow was graced with the reflexes of a cat though at his size he shouldn’t have been able to move that quickly and smoothly. Diving behind the couch Sam groaned as your laughter filled the library.

“What’s this all about (Y/N)?” Sam called out behind the couch. Ah, cute little Sammy, always the negotiator. Wouldn’t work this time though, oh no… This was deadly serious.

“Proving a point Sammy,” You sing-songed as you kept low and silent, moving slightly for Sam to not have a clear feel of where you were hiding. With your eyes on the couch where the big guy was not fully hiding you kept the brown mop of hair that peeked out on top in your line of sight as you moved silently towards your next hiding place. “You’ve been makin’ fun of my skills with a gun for too long. Payback’s a bitch and I’m her right hand woman,”

“Alright, fair point, though we all know I’m the actual best shot in the bunker,” Sam’s voice lost the tired lilt it had held and you could hear the grin in his voice as he accepted the challenge head on now that he knew the stakes. “But why did you have to give me the pink gun? And why are you dressed like Rambo?”

“‘Cause I thought it’s match your pretty hair Sammy, and the Rambo look suits me,” You purred, laughing and rolling out of the way as the hunter tried to use your voice to take aim and shoot in your direction. Missing you by a mile. Rolling back onto the balls of your feet you ran around the corner and headed straight for the garage, that place was a damned labyrinth of old classic cars. And most likely where you’d find Dean.

As you rounded the corner you knew Sammy had the same idea and could hear him follow you on those unfairly long legs of his. Making a split second change in your plan you slipped into one of the more or less unused and dark rooms in the bunker and plastered yourself up against the wall until you heard the big guy hurry past. No need for you to be shot in the back that early on. The battle for supremacy had just begun.

Your little change in plan and strategy seemed to pay off almost immediately as you heard Sammy groan from down the hall. Followed by Dean’s childish laughter as it bubbled over and echoed against the concrete walls of the bunker.

“Traps are against the rules Dean�� Sam’s voice made the big guy really sound like the whiny little brother as he raised his voice to be heard over big bro’s laughter. Choking back a laugh you snuck closer to the open garage door to have a look at what had happened.

Keeping close to the wall to keep out of sight, yet get a clear enough view of where Sam was half hiding behind a car, you took in the scene in the garage. The space in front of the door was a mess of overturned cans and wrenches littering the floor right next to where Sammy was hiding.

So, Dean was playing dirty. Good to know.

“There’s no rules in war Sammy. Survival of the fittest,” Dean laughed back, making it easy for you to pinpoint the hunter’s location behind the classic Camaro further into the garage. Damn it, he was just out of your range. But maybe…

Taking advantage of the brother’s bickering you managed to sneak around the edge of the door and follow the line of cars parallel to where the guys were acting like, well, brothers… Damn, screw Cat Woman, you should get your own movie and action figure combo. You were killing it at this whole sneaking around like a ninja thing.

Reaching your desired location you allowed yourself a quick peek over the hood of the car you were hiding behind to ensure that the two hunters hadn’t moved. The back of Dean’s head was in clear view. Smirking you raised your gun and took aim, missing by just a few inches. Damn it.

“Hey! Sneaking up on me like that is unfair (Y/N)!” Dean called out as he realised he was surrounded on both sides by his brother and you. Crouching lower so that you could no longer see his head.

“No rules Dean, you said so yourself!” You called back with a happy laugh. Before relying on your speed to get you out of what could end up being a bad situation and sprinting towards the other door in the large garage, easily avoiding the dart bullets the boys tried to hit you with until you were finally out of their reach. “Three hits guys! First to get three hits in wins!” You called over your back before sliding in behind the car closest to the other garage door.

---

After close to two hours of playing acting war in the Men of Letters bunker you each had two hits under your belts. The boys and you getting more desperate by the minute to get that final shot in and win the battle. Which was what had brought you all into the library where you’d ended up in the current situation.

It was a real Mexican standoff, like something ripped straight out of a typical spaghetti western, as the three of you stared each other down doing your best Clint Squint impression with Nerf guns aimed in a triangle formation. Your gun pointed towards Sammy, whilst Sam had his gun aimed straight at Dean, and Dean, in turn, had you in his sights. Sure, you knew things could either stay in the damned standoff for ages, or, both boys could choose blood over friendship and aim in your direction. Unfortunately, with the latter being a very likely option you knew you had to act.

Though you knew you still had time to formulate a plan. After all, neither Winchester wanted to give up the chance to win the fight, and whichever dart hit you first would be declared the winner if they did turn on you. Yeah, it was a bad situation, but you’d been planning for days and had of course thought of a way out of situations like this. You just needed to get the boys talkin’ first.

“So, it’s come to this,” You held back the childish giggle that threatened to follow the movie cliche out of your mouth. With a raised eyebrow and a practised smirk you let your eyes travel from Sam to Dean without taking your gun off of Sam.

“It sure has, and it’s ending now,” Dean played easily into your hand with a grin as he kept his gun aimed at you without pulling the trigger.

“Shoot me (Y/N) and I’ll shoot Dean, it’s all down to who has the fastest reaction speed,” Sam shot in, not one to be outdone as his eyes flashed to you before refocusing on Dean.

“Why don’t you boys just put your guns down, I think we all know who’s going to win this little fight,” You teased, knowing your words would have the opposite effect on the two hunters. Pride and stubbornness were occupational hazards and often the best weapons in your arsenal as hunters. Kept you alive just about as often as if got you into trouble anyway.

“Oh no sweetheart, I could stay here all day,” Dean winked at you as he changed his grip on the gun, as if the little move was supposed to underline his ability to stay in the locked down fight the whole day.

“You forget darling, I was up before you. I’ve eaten, had a rest and and all the time in the world to grab a coffee or two. You could get tired, thirsty or hungry… All I know is, one of you will give up way before me,” You teased back as you put your hand down by your hip, careful to play it off as sassy self confidence to throw the guys off of the scent of what you really had planned. True, you’d had time to eat, and to plan. You’d even had time to prepare an extra little hidden surprise in your waistband. But they didn’t need to know that.

“Food is for the weak, slows ya down,” Dean shot back to murmured agreement from his younger brother. Neither Winchester seemingly reacting to your hand on your hip as their eyes stayed locked on the colourful plastic weapons that were aimed their way.

“Oh honey, I wasn’t just talking about food and caffeine. I was talkin’ about time,” You grinned. Your words were designed to be vague enough to confuse the boys yet put them on the defensive as you stood your ground. To let you take your time to ensure you could easily get your little trump card out without fumbling with it as well as use your surroundings to your advantage without tripping .

That would’ve been totally uncool.

“Time?” The question had barely left Sam when you saw your chance to turn the battle around of the guys. Bringing your foot out you hooked it into the closest library chair and pushed it towards Dean as you pulled the little water gun out of your waistband and soaked the two guys with a happy laugh before jumping out of the way as two Nerf darts came zooming past you.

“Hey! That’s cheating!” Sam called out as he wiped water from his face. Gun clearly aimed at where you were crouching behind the couch.

“And water guns don’t count. Y’ still have to shoot one of us one more time to win,” Dean shot in, clearly not ready to concede the battle to you.

“All is fair in love and war boys, oh and, Sammy, be a sweetheart and do me a favour... Look down,” You purred as you stayed hidden behind the couch with your two guns at the ready. Hell, it might be cheating, but you preferred to call it street smarts. No one went into battle empty handed after all.

“Shit,” Sam’s groaned curse was enough to let you know that the Nerf dart you’d shot towards the guy at the same time the water gun had gone off in his face had hit it’s target and was resting by Sam’s feet. Yeah. The battle was yours. “That was a cheap shot (Y/N),” Sam complained from behind the couch.

“Doesn’t matter, I won and the trophy is mine,” You laughed as you went to stand up from behind the couch now that the battle was won and you’d come out victorious like you knew you would.

“Wait? There’s a trophy? If I knew there was a trophy I would’ve taken this much more seriously,” Dean whined as he looked at you, Nerf gun still raised even though the battle was clearly over. “I demand a redo! Best out of three!”

“Come on now Dean, no one likes a sore loser,” You laughed as you walked over to the guys again with a shit eating grin. “I won, fair and square… Well, maybe not fair, but who cares about semantics anyway,”

“I agree with Dean. There should be a rematch. And no extra guns this time (Y/N),” Sam backed up his big brother as they both stares at you with fake anger softened by the childish glee in their eyes.

Neither man seemed ready to give up on your game of war, and hell, they might be sore losers, but they were your losers, and you loved them enough to give them a few more chances to get their asses kicked by you.

“Alright, alright boys. I can see you’re aching to be utterly humiliated by my awesome gun-toting skills,” You chuckled as you crouched down to pick up your discarded Nerf gun dart. “But! Let’s eat first. I picked up doughnuts when I was out this morning, and I need another cup of coffee. Whaddya say?” You interrupted the back and forth your words would’ve started with a laugh as the two Winchesters looked at each other with a shrug.

“Ok, a truce for powdered sugar and coffee, but then it’s deadly serious (Y/N),” Dean agreed as Sam nodded along, both boys probably starving after running around for two hours.

“Oh, bring it sweetheart,” You grinned as you jokingly pushed into the hunter on your way past him to the kitchen. A quick brunch break for sugar and caffeine, then it was time… Again.

That cheap plastic trophy would be yours.

Forever tagged: @auszimbo @upon-a-girl @gallifreyansass @mogaruke @skybinx-blog @delisp

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sarcasticgaypotato · 8 years ago

Note

Could you write a fic about Chell not being able to sleep from nightmares and Glados soothing her nerves by singing a lullaby, all why Chell is in awe of her voice? (Preferably chassis Glados but you can do what you want :] )

( I sure can! You know I love some good ol’ fluff. )Chell’s head shot up off her pillow like a rocket, and the rest of her upper body seemed to follow, forcing the woman into an awkward, half-sitting position. Her heart was racing, and she was panting like she had just run a race. She was covered in a sheen of cold sweat, and her hands were shaking.It was just a dream. But, that was the problem.

About a month ago, Chell had asked her robotic companion- GLaDOS-, to turn off the adrenal vapors that normally flowed throughout the facility, allowing her to try and get on an actual sleep schedule. Unfortunately, sleeping came with the side effect of dreaming. And with dreaming, came nightmares.

Nearly every night she’d fall into a twisted mess of memories and awful bits of her mind’s imagination, mixed together to create something just new enough to be startling, but familiar enough to be deeply disturbing.

Some nights she’d be trapped in the dream until morning, though she preferred those nights far more than their alternative. Waking up in the middle of the night.

A quick glance at the clock on her bedside confirmed that tonight was one of those nights. It was hardly past 1am, and she was now wide awake. Ideally, she’d be asleep for at least five more hours, as testing started fairly early in the morning. To be fair, she didn’t HAVE to test, it was simply something she agreed to do after agreeing to a truce with GLaDOS and requesting to stay in Aperture, considering the rest of the world was destroyed.

It had been her own offer, not GLaDOS’s demands. She could just not do it, but she knew that guilt would linger around her like a cloud if she didn’t. This was their deal. GLaDOS gave her a roof over her head, food, medical care, and various forms of entertainment- so long as they didn’t involve murder.

Testing was something that Chell could do for the AI in return. One of the few things really, since GLaDOS had access to almost everything she could ever want.

But with Chell’s exhaustion and anxiety quickly developing as a result of these nightmares, she knew she was performing badly. She was jumpy, antsy and uncomfortable, reluctant to go to bed no matter how tired her body was. And on the nights that she woke up early, she’d be so tired the next day that she’d find herself making the most basic of mistakes while testing. She swore the only reason she wasn’t getting injured more often was because GLaDOS had been keeping an eye on her and removing some of the dangers in the various chambers. One might even say she cared for her test subject, but that was surely a ridiculous thought.

With a shaky sigh, she pulled her knees up to her chest, properly sitting up and throwing the blankets off her body. There wasn’t a chance she’d be able to fall asleep again. Not after that. Instead, she sat there. Shaking. It was pathetic, she knew it was. She had defeated two AIs out for her blood, and danced through test chambers that had taken so many lives before her own.

But experiences like those never really leave you. While your body might walk away, your brain will never forget. It stores those moments in the dark corners of your mind, only to replay them back to you in the form of a dream. And somehow, those were even more terrifying.

She ran a shaky hand through her long, dark brown hair, hoping that the action would calm her somewhat. It didn’t. She was awake now, but she still felt like she was there.

Chell could feel the heat of a fiery pit slowly approaching, the cold grip of space, or the choking sensation that came with deadly neurotoxin. Sometimes in separate dreams, or if she was unlucky, all in the same night.

She felt sick.

“…I know you’re awake, so I’m not sure why you bother to simply sit in the dark like that.”

Chell nearly jumped out of her skin at this, falling off the bed in the process with a loud ‘thud.’

It was easy to forget that while GLaDOS’s chassis was contained in only one room, her voice was not. It could be everywhere and anywhere, and completely without warning. This wasn’t necessarily a bad thing-it was nice to have some company down here-, but Chell was still incredibly unsettled, and hearing a voice completely out of nowhere was enough to give her a fright.

“I’m surprised you’ve made it as a test subject with that kind of coordination, honestly.”

Of course. No conversation with GLaDOS was free of her trademarked sarcasm and rude remarks. They were toned down by a lot, but ever present. Chell supposed it was just a part of the AI, and the only bit that was going to change was the intention behind her words. At least now it was almost playful in nature.

Still, she wasn’t in the mood. For a moment, she considered flipping the bird to the ‘hidden’ camera that she knew was present in her room, but decided against it. Something like that was just asking to end up with a dead rat on her pillow as revenge.

So instead, she simply curled back into a tight ball, ignoring the core’s comments.

A few moments of silence passed, before the lights in her room slowly turned on. Not all at once- which was surprisingly considerate of the AI that Chell knew was responsible for this-, but rather it happened over the course of a couple minutes, allowing the human a few moments to adjust to the lighting.“…You’re really having some issues, aren’t you?”The voice that came this time wasn’t sarcastic or patronizing, even if it came from the exact same person. It was a bit quieter, almost thoughtful in tone. Chell had heard it from GLaDOS before, though it was far from something that she heard frequently. More of a ‘once in a blue moon’ sort of thing.“I’ve been observing you for a while now, and I’ve made up my mind. This will not get better with time. At least, not quickly enough. My guess would be if you continue to put up with these dreams and make no changes to your current behavior, they should calm down in about sixty years, when your brain and memory should have deteriorated enough for the dreams to be more palatable.”Chell frowned, looking up at the camera with a slight glare. She didn’t want to hear this.“Don’t give me that face, I haven’t finished talking. What my point was going to be is this: I think I can help you.”That earned a shift in expression. Chell didn’t look too hopeful, wary of whatever this ‘help’ was. If it involved any kind of ‘experimental dream gas’ she didn’t want any part in it. She’d rather suffer through the nightmares than risk becoming victim to Aperture’s untested, possibly dangerous ‘cures.’ Though, she couldn’t deny that her scowl faltered. GLaDOS had helped her before, there was a chance that she could do the same now.“You humans have tried hundred of different ways of getting yourselves to fall asleep, and that includes avoiding nightmares. There are plenty of places we could start. However I think the best place to begin is with how to treat small children. I’m sure that will suit you fine.”There was the sarcasm again. Chell couldn’t even bring herself to bother with an eyeroll in response. She didn’t care. She just wanted a night of restful sleep for once. She didn’t even need a wonderful dream, she just wanted something at least a little better than a nightmare. No dream at all would be preferred, if she was honest with herself. And while GLaDOS’s comment was obviously a ‘not-so-subtle’ jab, the AI did appear to be at least mostly serious.So, Chell shrugged, and gave a small nod. She’d bite. So long as it wouldn’t cause her physical harm, she was interested to see what the core had in mind.“Lie back down your bed and get comfortable. Find a murder weapon to snuggle, whatever makes you feel most at home and relaxed.”Chell did as she was asked- sans the murder weapon part-, though reluctantly. Lying in a bed was something that had become far from relaxing, even being downright anxiety inducing before she so much as closed her eyes.Still, she wasn’t about to throw a fit and refuse, lest GLaDOS take this whole ‘treating her like a child’ thing any further. She did not want the core’s tone to get patronizing, which was a direction that it could go very fast, if she acted up.The lights around her started to dim slowly, causing Chell to tense up even more, trying to swallow the lump that was forming in her throat.“…Calm down. You aren’t ever going to be able to sleep if you can’t relax.”Chell frowned, trying to silently convey that it wasn’t that easy. Perhaps the core didn’t understand how this felt, but if it was as easy as simply telling herself to feel relaxed, she wouldn’t have this problem in the first place. Still, she tried once more. A couple deep breaths, slow and controlled in a vain attempt to focus on those instead. They only helped a little, but a little was better than nothing.“That’s better. Simply remain in place and continue to relax while I try something.”There was a sound like someone clearing their voice that came over the speakers after this sentence, though Chell knew it was completely unnecessary for the AI. Perhaps it was a habit the core had picked up, or perhaps she was simply being over dramatic as usual. That much about the core was predictable.What GLaDOS did next however, was far, far from anything Chell could’ve predicted. A soft hum emitted from the speakers. The sound was soft and quiet, yet still loud enough to be distinctly heard, and not mistaken for the gentle ‘whirr’ that the facility gave off. Slowly, that hum raised in pitch, though still below normal speaking volume. Then, it shifted. To a softly sung melody.Chell was stunned. The voice was undoubtedly GLaDOS’s- though she couldn’t make out the words, quickly identifying them as a different language. She had heard the turrets sing to her, and that had been shocking enough. But GLaDOS?The Queen of Aperture, Chell’s former tormenter turned companion, was singing to her.She knew that her face likely looked stupid, with an expression of surprise gracing her features. Yet, the core didn’t stop to tease her about it, and continued her song.It took a few moments, but eventually, the shock wore off, and Chell found herself properly listening to the robot’s voice. The sound was smooth, and almost silky in tone. It was soft and gentle, which was something that Chell would never have thought to be possible of the AI. Above all else though, it was beautiful. Each note held on for just the right about of time, each lyric sung at the perfect pitch.Caroline must’ve been an opera singer before her career in science, as Chell knew there wasn’t the slightest chance that the men creating GLaDOS would’ve been able to program something like this.These thoughts raced through Chell’s head at first, still stunned by the situation as a whole. Yet slowly, her mind became less and less frantic. It calmed down, and she found herself being lulled into a state of relaxation. There was no funny smelling gas being pumped into the room, no needles being jabbed into her skin to fill her with some sleeping drug, nothing of the sort. The only thing that changed was the presence of GLaDOS’s voice. And it was astonishing to the human just how intoxicating the sound was.Before she knew it, she could feel her eyelids drooping, despite her best attempts to keep them open. She was fighting a losing battle.Chell would no doubt be asleep within the next minute or so, yet for the first time, she wasn’t afraid of that thought. She was… comfortable. Relaxed. Happy.To her surprise, when her eyes finally did close and her brain slipped into the world of dreams, they were no longer frightening and cruel, but blissful and simple. They seemed more like sensations than dreams, as she could almost swear she felt the warm sun on her face, and feel a gentle breeze in the air. All accompanied by a sweet, distant sound.And, though the girl would never know this, GLaDOS kept an eye on her for the rest of the night. The other cameras were ignored in favor of only one, making sure that her human’s rest remained peaceful and undisturbed. Somehow, the core had the feeling that this would soon become a daily occurrence, and she didn’t mind in the slightest.

#chell #glados #chelldos #kinda #fluff #portal #portal 2

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