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titan-fodder · 3 years

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Pyroclastic (Mike Zacharias x Reader)

Summary: Some would argue that the park is dead, but you know better; it’s livelier than it has been in hundreds of thousands of years, a shuddering, breathing monster finally rising to its feet after an eternity of slumber. Soon, it will open its mouth in an earth-shattering scream, and then, everyone will see.

Not dead; just waking up.

Rating: E (explicit)

Word Count: ~19.5K

Warnings: slow burn, friends to lovers, Eruri, implied Mobuhan, spelling Miche ‘Mike’, swearing, fighting, lots of nerdy shit, explicit sexual content, breeding kink

A/N: This is my contribution to the Smut Pile’s Apocalypse collab. I urge everyone to check out all the pieces on the masterlist. A big thanks to @pleasantanathema and @whats-her-quirk for being about as excited about this as I was, to @shadowworks for always encouraging me when I take on projects too big for my own good, and to @mindninjax who volunteered her husband’s expertise on this. I’m pretty proud of this piece and had a blast writing and researching for it. This is by no means scientifically accurate, but I did my best to make it realistic (as in I watched Supervolcano again and spent a lot of time on the USGS website). Also, I have been to Yellowstone exactly one (1) time in my life and was terrified the entire time which is where my fixation with it comes from.

Enjoy~

GLOSSARY

Caldera - large basin-shaped volcanic depression with a diameter many times larger than its included volcanic vents; commonly formed when magma is withdrawn or erupted from a shallow, underground magma reservoir.*

Pyroclastic flow - A hot (typically >800 °C), chaotic mixture of rock fragments, gas, and ash that travels rapidly (tens of meters per second) away from a volcanic vent or collapsing flow front.*

Tephra - pieces of all fragments of rock ejected into the air by an erupting volcano.

VEI - The Volcanic Explosivity Index (VEI) is a relative measure of the explosiveness of volcanic eruptions.*

*definitions taken from USGS website

4 Y E A R S B E F O R E

Levi looks pissed when he’s on screen. He looks pissed all the time, but he looks especially pissed when he’s made to stand in front of pointed cameras and outstretched microphones.

You can’t blame him; it’s not actually his job to deal with the press, but some years ago, Erwin had twisted his arm this way and that and convinced Levi to take over conferences.

“They understand you better,” he’d said. “You enunciate better than me. We can’t have people misunderstanding me and panicking, can we?” The blond had purposely spoken with an accent thicker than usual, and Levi had called him every name under the sun, but in the end, he’d relented, and now…

“Dr. Ackermann! Dr. Ackermann! Is it true that this has been the largest earthquake in Yellowstone since Hebgen Lake?”

Levi squints, actually cringes at the question, then waves one of his small, bony hands. “Hebgen Lake was a major quake—7.2 on the Richter scale. This was only a 5.3, and yeah, it’s been a while since the park has had a quake larger than a three, but that doesn’t mean—”

“So, should we be worried about a supereruption?” Another reporter asks, and you clamp a hand over your mouth to keep from laughing as the light leaves your colleague’s eyes.

Levi’s jaw slides, and he pauses, no doubt to think about how to answer because this is a delicate question, one that the general public always reads extremely far into. He’s good at keeping his expression blank, at least, probably another reason Erwin requested he take over interviews.

“Listen,” he starts off, slate eyes locking onto the largest camera in front of him. “Yellowstone is a hub of seismic energy. It wouldn’t be the park we know and love today if it wasn’t shaking and letting off steam like it usually does, right?” This gains a few relieved chuckles from the crowd of journalists.

“Was this earthquake bigger than the ones we’re used to? Yes. Are we monitoring each and every tremor that we pick up? Also, yes. So, don’t make yourself sick worryin’ about sh—stuff you can’t control. We’ll let you know if it’s time to worry.” He sucks his teeth for a second, waiting for his advice to wash over everyone, then adds, “Keep a bug-out bag packed, though. Not because of the volcano or anything. Just because… The world is crazy and so are people, and it’s always good to be prepared.”

They take it as a joke, laugh a little louder as Levi steps down from the podium, but you’ve worked with him long enough to know he had made the comment with serious intent. It’s a lot easier to fly out of town at a moment’s notice when you already have the necessities packed, and though he won't tell them all the facts this early on, there’s a chance that they will eventually have to evacuate, yes.

“I fucking hate that big, blond bastard,” is the first thing Levi tells you when he’s within earshot, much less well-spoken in casual situations than when his face is being broadcasted. “Voht iff they dunt understahnd me, Lebi?” He mimics your boss badly then pantomimes an uppercut with a dramatic grunt.

“Why’d you make him sound Russian?”

“I was trying to make him sound stupid ‘cause that’s what he is.”

“I have four doctorates,” Erwin states as he falls into step with both of you, finally moving from his little hiding place behind one of the news trucks. “I’m not stupid. And, I do not sound like that.”

“That’s what you think,” Levi grumbles, doing his best to shrug away from the larger man when Erwin slings an arm around his shoulders. It doesn’t work, and Levi ends up stumbling to keep up with Erwin’s longer strides, which only serves to irritate him further.

“You looked good up there. I mean, you sounded good. Sounded sure, comforting…”

You shake your head at Erwin’s obvious struggle to just not be the big weirdo that he is, but it sure is painful to watch sometimes.

Governor Zachary takes over the conference, leaving the three of you to make your way inside the lodge that the emergency broadcast was set up outside of. Levi and Erwin bicker through the lobby then through the back doors that lead you to the jeep that you all swing yourselves into.

The sky is still a little dusty with shaken sediment, and some of the park rangers are setting up barricades at the mouths of a couple hiking trails leading to what is now a moderately large crevasse that’s opened up in the Biscuit Basin.

Other than that, the park doesn’t feel much different as you ride through it on your way back to the lab. The Summer sun brings with it your favorite 70 degree days, and if it weren’t for Erwin’s questionable driving, you’d be tempted to hang half your body out the window just to feel the warmth better. The faint smell of sulfur in the air is soothing at this point—the smell of activity, the smell of science, the smell of home. Geysers are still shooting boiling water to the skies. The mud pots are still bubbling like ominous cauldrons. That earthquake couldn’t have shaken too much out of place if all the geothermal spots are still behaving as they normally do.

The tires kick up rocks and dust as Erwin brakes dramatically outside of the base, right behind another familiar jeep that makes Levi roll his eyes.

“Great. The boy scout’s here.”

“Oh, be nice, you little grump,” Erwin chastises him. “Mike’s been nothing but kind to us since he started working here.”

“Yeah, except for the time he misjudged the depth of that puddle and—”

“Splashed you with mud, yeah, yeah, we know, Levi,” you finish for him as you slide out of the vehicle. “You bring it up every time you see the guy. We know.”

“And, didn’t he apologize afterward?” Erwin prompts.

Levi doesn’t answer, but you respond for him: “Profusely. Drove him back to the lab, offered him his spare change of clothes—”

“Useless,” Levi hisses. “The dude’s a giant.”

“Not his fault he’s…” You try not to sound too giddy when you step through the door and see the man in question. “Enormous.”

You don’t know Mike very well, one of the newer park rangers but with a background in geology which leads him to your neck of the woods very often. The few conversations you have had with him have all been pleasant. He’s soft-spoken but obviously intelligent with good instincts about both the park’s weather and wildlife.

He’s also the only ranger you’ve seen actually pull off the dorky park uniform, but that could just be because the different shades of green look good against his tan skin and bring out his light eyes. Even taller than Erwin and a little broader too, M. Zacharias (as his little, metal name tag reads) is a slab of a man, and yet, when he grins, it’s almost boyish.

“Hey, Mike, what’s up?” You greet.

He turns his head to look at you, flipping shaggy hair from his face, then offers one of the soft smiles you were hoping for. “Just came to drop off some samples for Hange.”

“Disgusting,” Levi mutters just for you to hear as he passes, and you shove him hard enough to make him stumble and flip you off.

“How’d the press conference go?” Hange asks, tossing a small, corked flask of mud from hand to hand—what you assume to be the sample—while twirling in their computer chair. The last member of your team, Moblit Berner, glances away from the holographic model he’s studying to hear the answer.

“I think it went well,” Erwin says. “Levi handled it like a champion, as always.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere, old man,” the brunet bites out, joining Moblit next to the expensive projection table in the middle of the lab. “What’re we lookin’ at?”

“I’m just running the numbers from today’s quake. The possible effects it had underground.”

“And?”

Moblit is quiet for a beat too long.

“Mobs, what is it?”

You, Erwin, and Hange make your way over to the table, staring at the laser-lit park model and the chamber underneath it.

“Well, in most of the scenarios, it’s fine,” Moblit tries. “Nothing to worry about.”

“And, in the others?”

He looks to Erwin, as everyone does in times of concern. Thick eyebrows pinched together, your boss motions to the hologram. “Show us.”

Moblit punches a few things in on the app he uses to control the model, then takes a deep breath and lets it play out for everyone to see, including Mike who slowly makes his way over, curiosity apparently getting the best of him.

At first, nothing looks to change, just a living, breathing reenactment of what you were seeing today—every geyser, every fumarole, every little rumble, every minute rise and fall of the ground sped up to be detected with the human eye.

And then, it stops.

“Why did it…”

“Just watch,” Moblit shushes you.

The outline of the ground fractures in several different places, statistics for different earthquakes blinking above. The known vents of the park—every geyser, mudpot, and fumarole—are rendered inactive, and under it all, that massive chamber everyone is always so worried about begins to bulge upward and outward, growing larger and larger until…

The map shorts out, flickering then disappearing entirely, leaving the six of you staring at the space where it was shining just seconds ago.

“Was that…”

Erwin inhales deeply through his nose before exhaling the word that will eventually bring the nation to its knees.

"Supereruption."

3 Y E A R S B E F O R E

Even through the thick headset, the whir of the helicopter blades is loud, a rhythm pulsing through the air strong enough to be felt in your chest right alongside your beating heart.

Thankfully, Mike’s deep voice is loud and clear when he speaks, nodding his head to the right, “Look down at about two o’clock.”

You follow his command, tilting your head and peering down at an empty field.

“I don’t see anything,” you say.

The microphone hanging in front of his mouth picks up his chuckle, and the sound of it echoes in your ears, making you grin albeit a little confused.

“Exactly. That’s a big spot for bison this time of year.”

“Then why aren’t they here?”

Mike lets the chopper hover for a while, both hands still on their respective control levers.

“Ground’s been moving too much,” he says after a few seconds of silent staring. You’d known the answer already but hearing the wildlife expert confirm it fills you with a little more dread than you’d originally harbored. “They feel things we don’t, the tiny quakes, the tremors. Stuff you only think the seismograph picks up—they feel all of it.”

“They know what’s coming,” you say more to yourself than to him.

Mike offers you one of those charming, close-lipped smiles. “When in doubt, trust the animals.”

A line you’ve heard him say a few times now. Mike loves everything that lives in the park, from all the common lake trout and sand cranes to the endangered grizzly bears and gray wolves.

Trust the animals, he says. Because he trusts them. Because he loves them.

“You wanna fly over the Grand Prismatic?” Mike asks, pulling you from your thoughts, and when you look over, you find your reflection in his mirrored aviators as he stares at you.

His mouth quirks up at the corners, causing yours to do the same, and you nod. “Yeah, always.”

It’s your favorite view in the park, the colorful spring from up above. Mike had learned that a few months ago, and now whenever you ride in the chopper with him, he makes sure to pass over the beautiful attraction just for you.

Nearly 200° Fahrenheit with a pH of 8.7, the pool, while still dangerous due to its temperature, is one of the more moderate dangers of the national park, tame in comparison to the Norris Geyser Basin with temperatures up to 459° (a thousand meters below the surface, anyway) and a pH of about two. It’s dissolved bones—human bones. And, would claim even more if given the chance.

You suppose that’s expected for a basin that’s sitting over a chamber of 1,500° molten magma.

The Grand Prismatic is just as stunning today as it is every other. Its outer orange and yellow rings darken to greens and blues the further inward you look, thick steam rising from all over but more condensed over the middle.

It was one of the park's biggest attractions, tourists flocking to the spring with their cameras, too stricken by the vivid chromaticism to listen or read about the temperatures and microbials that are responsible for the colors in the first place.

As you hover above now, just to the side of the steam, your heart aches. There are no ignorant tourists to take pictures of the pool, the boardwalks and trails to these hot spots now blocked off once it became apparent that the earthquake that took place last year was not the last of its kind. Your team as well as the park rangers went to the park board as a unit and suggested that tourists needed to be kept away from as many geothermal features as possible, all of you with the same fear in mind: someone (or many someones) falling in.

It's always been a risk, but now, with weekly rumblings, that risk has multiplied exponentially. All it takes is someone losing their footing on the boardwalk over the Norris Geyser Basin for serene sightseeing to turn into tragedy, and that's on a good day. Throw a 5.7 earthquake into the mix, and the park could lose an entire tour group to the heat and acid.

It's just not a risk any of you are willing to take anymore.

Most of the park remains open. Old Faithful continues to draw people in by the thousands. They sit and watch boiling water shoot into the sky every hour or so, clapping happily at the sight, unaware of the way you and your team hold your breath in wait, hoping for the geyser to go off on its usual schedule.

One day it will stop. One day they'll all stop. And, then…

"I can't believe it's all gonna be gone one day," you muse, blinking down at the prismatic pool for as long as Mike will let you.

"Nah," the man disagrees. "Not gone. Buried, yeah, but not gone."

You snort, turn back to him with a grin and roll your eyes. "Yeah, no big deal. Just miles of pyroclast and ash, probably snow when we get thrust into another ice age 'cause of the crazy climate swing..."

"Alright, alright, I get it. The sun dimeth and the land sinketh."

"Gusheth forth steam and gutting fire," you continue grimly.

Mike turns the helicopter back toward the landing zone, saying nothing else and leaving you to take in the sights below. You're grateful for the silence; it's good for processing, for preparation.

And, you're grateful for Mike, one of your best friends at this point—soft and kind despite his intimidating stature, smart as a whip, and just as stunning, if not more so, than the Grand Prismatic.

"Any idea what you'll do afterward?" He asks, holding a hand out to you to help you from your seat in the chopper.

"Not really. Survive, I guess."

You land just a little too close to him, your face nearly coming in direct contact with his broad chest, but Mike steps back just in time, making you extend your arm, still connected at the fingers, before he drops your hand.

"A feat all on its own," he says flatly, but he perks up as you both begin walking to the park ranger base. "Maybe you'll find another team to work on."

"I don't want to find another team," you tell him honestly. "This is my team. This is my home."

Mike hums, an understanding little sound, body warm when he gently bumps into you on the gravel pathway to the lodge. "Yeah, I know."

A geophysics major at UCLA with a specific interest in volcanology, getting to intern with the Erwin Smith at the Yellowstone supervolcano had been a dream come true. You'd expected to gain knowledge and experience—nothing more and nothing less. You'd lived out here for one summer during your graduate program, clocking the field experience you needed to get your degree and taking in everything you could.

Back then, it felt like all you did was ask questions and get in the way. By the end of that summer, you knew every variation of Levi Ackermann's irritated sighs, every different pitch of Hange Zoe's shouts and how they correlated with their experiments. Moblit had been the newest permanent addition and was even more nervous than he is now, trying and failing to keep up with Hange (which he's much better at doing these days).

They were all fantastic, but it had been the lead researcher who'd reeled you in. You'd never met anyone as passionate as Dr. Erwin Smith, captivated by the monster underneath the park and thrilled to share his brain with anyone willing to hold their hands out for it. Hell, he'd even helped you with your Master's thesis—hydrothermally altered mineralized systems and their seismic reflections.

When you graduated, the Yellowstone team was the first you reached out to and the first you heard back from. Erwin said you'd been a perfect fit even as a student (which you hadn't exactly believed but definitely blushed at anyway). Mobs, Hange, and even Levi seemed happy to have you back. It was like you were meant to be here. In this park. With all of them.

Studying the volcano and all of its properties has always been like breathing to you—natural and necessary. You move when it moves, every shake and tremor a heartbeat in your own chest, every shooting geyser like blood in your veins. The mudpots are your bubbling emotions, the fumaroles, your sense of building pressure and release.

You feel at home in the park because you trust it. Because you love it.

You don't have room for another team in your heart, but as you walk inside the lodge next to Mike, watching as he takes off his sunglasses and grins at one of the other rangers, you think you at least have room for one more person.

2 Y E A R S B E F O R E

The lab has two extra bodies in it—two extra unwelcome bodies who keep getting in your way and touching things as they ask questions that no one has the answers to yet.

“When did you say this was going to happen?” The rotund state governor, Dhalis Zachary, asks for the second time since arriving, picking up a sample test tube that Moblit immediately plucks from his hand with a nervous smile.

“As I said before, it’s difficult to place a concrete timeline on an event like this,” Erwin tells the white-haired man. “We don’t exactly have in depth records of the last three eruptions, so all we have to go off of is the earth itself and our simulations.”

At the edge of the projection table, Nile Dok, FEMA director, cautiously waves a hand through the holographic model displayed in front of him. He obviously doesn’t think anyone is watching him because the slender man jumps in surprise when you snort at your desk, and his angular cheekbones take on a pink tint of embarrassment from having been caught.

He clears his throat, straightens the knot that sits over it, then turns to face Erwin and prompts, “Three eruptions before. One was a lot bigger than the others, though, right?”

Erwin nods. “Huckleberry Ridge. Over two million years ago.”

“We’re hoping—if a supereruption is to occur—it’ll be closer to the size of Mesa Falls,” you pipe up.

“Which one was that?” Zachary asks.

“One-point-three million years ago, two-hundred-and-eighty cubic kilometers of erupted materials…” Levi lists off as he makes his way over to the table with a sanitary wipe in hand. He doesn’t like people in his space, doesn’t like strangers in the lab, even (especially) government officials (“They leave fingerprints, and they breathe on everything, and they waste our fucking time.”).

“Two-hundred-and-eighty cubic kilometers… That’s the best-case scenario?” Zachary looks to Erwin, eyebrows raised high over his wire glasses.

Erwin stares at him for a moment, contemplating the best and easiest way to explain this to someone who has no real experience in the field. Eventually, he settles on, “Moblit, can you run some simulations for me?”

“Of course, sir,” the mousy scientist agrees, phone in hand and pulling up the app before the boss can even finish speaking.

Everyone gathers around the table except for Levi who steps away from it, grumbling under his breath about coming back to clean it later. He at least hits the lights, making the model easier to see as Erwin starts listing off numbers and scenarios.

“The best case, actually, is only one vent opening, maybe two. It would be something comparable to Mount St. Helen’s, though probably a bit bigger, say point-five cubic kilometers of material. It would be necessary to evacuate the park and this region of the state at the very least.”

Zachary hums, “And, how likely is that?”

Erwin shrugs. “Hard to say right now. As the earthquakes increase, though, the likelihood of a small eruption like that, uh, dwindles.”

“Small,” Nile scoffs.

Zachary makes a similar noise, slightly louder, a little more offended, then rattles off, “Mount St. Helen’s killed almost sixty people. The blast, the ash, the lahars—” as if you don’t all already know.

“No one’s discounting the damage of the eruption,” Levi cuts him off. “But, if you’re sweatin’ at those numbers, all due respect, Governor, I don’t know if you’re ready to stomach the rest of this little light show.”

The older man cuts his eyes at Levi who squints right back at him, only turn and shuffle over to his desk when Erwin waves him further away, a silent way of saying ‘keep your smart mouth away from the authority figures’.

“Moving on,” you cough, twirling a finger to get both Erwin and Mobs to continue.

“Yes,” Erwin nods. “So, any eruption is dependent on how much magma in the chamber is eruptible magma. Just because it’s there doesn’t mean it will come out.”

Moblit punches in a few numbers to show what a small-scale eruption would look like, first with one vent then with two.

“With just that amount, even with two vents, it isn’t enough to completely destabilize the chamber.”

“And, destabilizing it would be… bad…” Nile states more than asks, brown eyes lit up by the model in front of him.

“No shit,” everyone hears Levi grumble from his desk, and Erwin huffs and looks at you, expression a little exasperated as he jerks a thumb back toward the grumpy man in yet another one of his silent motions— a plea in this case—'go take care of him’ which you do.

Levi is slumped in his computer chair, arms crossed over his chest as he peers over his desktop at the four men gathered around the hologram.

“Should’a just gone with Hange and the boy scout to collect samples when I had the chance,” he mutters.

“You hate collecting samples, especially sulfur samples. Which is what they’re getting now.”

“Yeah, well I hate these guys even more.” He says it quietly enough so that they won’t be able to hear, and even if they could, both Governor Zachary and Nile are too invested in the information that the scientists are giving them to pay attention to anything else.

“What’d they ever do to you?” You push, curious now because sure, Levi has always been the surliest of the team, but it’s rare that he’s surly and loud about it.

“Nothing. They have done nothing because they don’t belong here. They have no idea—no fucking idea—what’s about to happen.” You can hear his frustration even through his whispers. “Best case scenarios? Why are we even going over those? We know damn well that we’re not looking at one or two vents. And, we’re not lookin’ at Mesa Falls either.”

Letting out a long breath, you lean against Levi’s desk, ignoring the way he grunts in protest.

“I know. I’m sure Erwin and Moblit will prep them for the worst case.”

“There’s no prepping for it,” Levi hisses, gray eyes flashing. “We’re talking about—"

“…A nationwide cataclysmic event.” Both of you register Erwin’s voice at the same time and glance at the other group to find them staring at the lit-up simulation of the Huckleberry Ridge eruption.

“Which would pretty quickly turn into a worldwide problem,” Moblit adds quietly.

“Worldwide?” You hear Nile question in a low but very alarmed tone. “Because of the ash?”

“Well, yes, but, it’s not just ash,” Erwin clarifies, diving into his explanation of tephra and how dangerous it is. He reminds the men how far it traveled after the Mount St. Helen’s eruption since they’ve apparently latched onto that one, then challenges, “Now imagine an eruption about… six hundred times that size.”

“Six…” Nile swallows, turning his entire, slender frame toward Erwin and repeating, “Six hundred times bigger? That’s what we’re expecting?”

In his little rolling chair, Levi’s chest puffs a bit, finally satisfied that the gravity of the situation is beginning to set in. “Maybe they aren’t as dumb as they look.”

Erwin is about to say something, right hand lifted with his index finger extended in a very matter-of-fact way, but before he can manage to get anything out, the door to the lab swings open and Hange walks in, Mike just behind them carrying all the collected samples in what almost looks like a lunchbox.

“We’re back—” Hange stops, taking in their surroundings, the lack of lights, the bright projection, the grim energy, then shouts, “Hey, get some Pink Floyd playing! Like a planetarium in here! Is there anybody in there? Just nod if you can hear me…”

“Dr. Zoe,” Moblit clears his throat. “We were just going over the utter devastation a supereruption could wreak on the country.”

“Oh, were you?” Hange pauses, brow rising, lips puckering into a sour expression. “My bad.”

Raising a hand to your forehead, you laugh to yourself for a few seconds before shaking the untimely amusement off and making your way over to Mike to take the sample kit from him.

“Careful,” he warns jokingly as he passes it off. “Got some very fragile gas and mud in there.”

“Yeah?” You tease. “So, I shouldn’t, like, shake it or anything?”

“Definitely should not shake it. Here, here, just—” He takes it back, grinning broadly as he tells you, “I think it’s best if you let a professional handle such dangerous compounds.”

All the doom-and-gloom you had been feeling mere seconds ago evaporates entirely, and you let out a frankly embarrassing giggle as you watch Mike very carefully set the samples down on Hange’s lab table, making a show of securing them and whispering a final, “Stay,” so that you clamp a hand over your mouth.

Levi groans in disgust, and, at the same time, Erwin mutters an apology to Zachary and Nile for, “… employing a team of children.”

Your face heats in embarrassment, but it doesn’t keep you from smiling at Mike when he saunters back over, looking rather sheepish himself.

“Lunchtime soon, right?”

“Yeah, in a bit—”

“Please go now, for the love of God,” Erwin sighs. “And, take Levi and Hange with you.”

None of you need telling twice, quickly grabbing wallets and home-packed meals before rushing from the lab before your boss decides to murder one or all of you.

Levi steers Hange toward his car, leaving you alone with Mike which you don’t mind in the slightest. You take most of your lunches with him anyway, some of your breakfasts and dinners too, so this is simply part of your daily routine.

“I’ve got some sandwiches packed already. Wanna hit Mount Haynes?” He suggests, sliding into the driver’s seat of his jeep.

You point a fingergun at him and nod. “I like the way you think, sir.”

He takes a very specific route, avoiding any damaged areas, having to veer off of the actual road at a certain point to take a safer path he and other rangers have made. You watch the mountains of the park grow closer and closer, what you know to be the ridge of Yellowstone’s caldera looming nearer.

Mike parks at the base of your intended destination then reaches into the backseat to grab the aforementioned lunch. You have no intentions of actually hiking to the top of the mountain—don’t have the time or the will, honestly—but as soon as the two of you have worked up a sweat and are at a decent enough elevation to look out on the park underneath, you drop to the dusty ground and take it all in.

Even from this distance, you can see some of the gases and steam in the air. That’s the only movement there is, though, save for the occasional ranger vehicle zipping along. The land seems almost barren at this point. The grass is still green. The sun is still bright as it is every Summer.

But, there are no animals, no tourists, no real life. Instead, it’s been replaced with cracks and crevasses, with barricades and warning signs.

Trail Closed

Road Closed

Danger: Keep Out

It’s been almost six months since the park decided to shut down to the public, and if you’re being honest, it should have closed its doors long before. It took people dying to bring the board to their senses, an earthquake that shook the ground for minutes, the crust of the earth splitting right under the historical lodge that so many loved.

Fourteen casualties. Twenty-nine injured.

That’s what it took.

You barely recognize the park now, feel like the last endangered species left within its boundaries. It’s just the research team, some of the rangers, and the occasional outside visitor (board members, government officials, or press that gets waved away).

Some would argue that the park is dead, but you know better; it’s livelier than it has been in hundreds of thousands of years, a shuddering, breathing monster finally rising to its feet after an eternity of slumber. Soon, it will open its mouth in an earth-shattering scream, and then, everyone will see.

Not dead; just waking up.

“You look tired.” Mike’s voice may as well be carried by the breeze, light and low, refreshing as it passes over you, and you flash him a smile while nodding.

“Exhausted.”

He grabs a sandwich from the lunchbox, and you fish hand sanitizer from one of the many pockets on your pants, squirting it into your hand first then holding it out to the man beside you.

“Seems like you spend more time here than at your apartment.”

“Oh, most definitely.” You unwrap what looks to be turkey and pepper-jack and try to ignore the way your stomach flips at the fact that it’s your favorite simple-sandwich-combo and that Mike remembered. “Lot to do in the lab. Obviously.” You take a bite—no mustard, only mayo—and feel some of the tension between your shoulder blades begin to unwind.

“Figure you wouldn’t want it any other way, though,” Mike comments before chomping into his own sandwich.

“Right you are. I mean, end of the world, potentially. Scary stuff, but also…” You swallow, lick your lips and stare out at the landscape in front of you as you grapple with words. “It’s like… I’m terrified, but I feel like I’m exactly where I need to be. Like…”

This is how I’m supposed to go out, you almost say, but you’re smart to keep it to yourself. That’s a thought for you and you alone, one you haven’t shared with anyone because nobody else would understand except maybe Erwin.

“This is what you’re meant to do,” Mike supplies, and you look over at him. “This is what you love. I get that.”

And, he’s right. But, the park and volcanology—those aren’t the only things you love.

Mike sits there, legs crossed like an overgrown kindergartener, shaggy hair blowing in the wind, light green eyes so, incredibly warm and bright, and it feels like you can’t breathe anymore, like your lungs and throat are already full of ash that hasn’t fallen yet, tight with dying declarations you can’t bring yourself to make.

“Have you ever heard of Katia and Maurice Krafft?” You ask, and yes, your voice does feel somewhat strangled, the space behind your eyes burning just a little hotter than usual.

Mike shakes his head, takes another bite, and gives you his undivided attention.

“They were these French volcanologists who got really famous for the pictures and footage they took of erupting volcanoes. The recordings they got for the community were—I mean, they were pioneers. They changed the game. There’s photos and videos of them just—” you gesture nebulously with both your hands, nearly flinging your sandwich off the side of the mountain and making Mike reach out and catch your wrist before you can.

“Please, no feeding the park’s wildlife, ma’am,” he jokes easily, and you have to shove the sandwich into your mouth to keep from giggling like a schoolgirl. Mike shows the smallest of satisfied smiles, completely unaware of his own charm, and it’s maddening and intoxicating, and it’s all you can do to keep talking about the brave scientists.

“Anyway,” you continue. “Katia would get, like, within feet of lava flows. Just walkin’ right beside ‘em in her special heat suit. And, they’d wear protective helmets because of, you know—”

“Explosions. Falling rocks.”

“Yeah, exactly. They were just there, documenting it all happening, nerves of fucking steel. Katia was usually the one gathering samples and stuff while Maurice recorded, but he was right in the thick of it too. This badass couple learning and adventuring together.”

Mike eventually questions, “What happened to them?” but you’re sure he knows the answer when you deflate a bit.

“Mount Unzen eruption—got caught in the pyroclastic flow. Died instantly.”

“At least they were doing what they loved,” he says, and you nod.

You’re silent for a while, neither of you eating but both of you staring. You think about the Kraffts often, especially now with Yellowstone’s imminent eruption. Doing what they loved… They died for their research, and though you never got the chance to meet them or even speak with anyone who has met them, you have a feeling they wouldn’t have wanted it to happen any other way.

“Just so you know,” Mike gets your attention, and when you look over at him, your heart swells.

The sun is reflected in his eyes, making light green glow with more than just warmth and sincerity, and god, you’re so in love with him, you can feel it in your bone marrow. You ache for him, you pine for him, and you want to live for him, but how…

“I’d film you walking next to a lava flow,” he tells you. Despite the little smile playing at his lips, you know he isn’t kidding.

Tears prick the corners of your eyes, and you have to look away before any actually fall, but your sniffle definitely gives you away. You swear internally, berating yourself for getting emotional in front of Mike, though you can’t say you’re too surprised. Your stress levels have been through the roof, working non-stop for months now, the government breathing down your neck. People have died and the park is literally fracturing before your eyes, and you’re not ready to see it end—to see everything as you know it come to an end.

“Pretty dusty up here,” Mike comments while nudging you. You find him holding out a handkerchief, letting you take it then turning his gaze forward again to allow you a little privacy to dab at your eyes.

Mike has senses beyond the normal human spectrum. He has a sense for weather unlike anyone you’ve ever seen before, from thunderstorms and tornadoes to record snowfall and, on a few occasions, earthquakes. You can still vividly remember being in the lab the day of the fatal quake that damaged the hotel, seeing Mike suddenly look at the seismogram seconds before it started picking up the first tremors. Levi had called it “freakish”, but you had called him “incredible”.

It’s not just the weather, though. Mike has a way with people and animals too, like he can gauge their emotions and act appropriately. It’s how he knows what days he can push Levi’s buttons and get away with it, how he knows when Hange is too busy and overwhelmed to gather samples themself, so he gathers some for them.

And, it’s how he knows exactly when he needs to pull you into a hug, like when the team realized the chances of a small to moderate eruption were next to nothing, like when he had told you how many of those hotel guests had gotten hurt and died and you’d stared at him with wide, watery eyes, and like right now, as you think about Katia and Maurice Krafft, the fate they met and how yours might not be any different.

Will you die doing what you love? Will you be able to welcome it as bravely as they did?

You rest your head on Mike’s shoulder, letting yourself melt into his side, his arm sturdy and grounding where it wraps around you, and as you look out over the sunlit grounds, one last question plagues your mind:

Does a pyroclastic flow burn as hot as the molten feelings inside of you?

You can’t imagine anything does.

1 Y E A R B E F O R E

The message is broadcasted straight from the state capitol, Levi's expression grim as he reads off the paper hidden on the podium.

"I know all of this sounds apocalyptic—the ash and blackouts and probable climate change, and it is scary, but we still have some time, so there's no reason to panic. We just urge that if you haven't already started preparing, now's the time. Please."

A couple steps behind him and a little to the right is Erwin, standing tall and nodding at everything Levi says as if he's providing some kind of credibility.

"Considering we're looking at a VEI eight, the team of volcanologists at Yellowstone have recommended that all of Wyoming and its neighboring states evacuate, but I'll let Homeland Security go over all that."

As he turns to step back, the crowd of reporters and journalists begin shouting out questions, and Levi grimaces as he moves to stand next to Erwin who places a hand in his shoulder.

You can't hear everything being asked from where you're watching at the lab, but you can't imagine it's anything good judging by the way Levi's frown just keeps growing.

Fortunately, the vaguely familiar secretary of Homeland Security, Dot Pixis, takes the stand quickly, holding up wrinkled hands in an attempt to calm the crowd.

"We have some more very important information to cover in this address, so if you'll allow me…" He clears his throat and straightens a stack of papers on the podium, no doubt a huge list of protocols that the public will only half listen to.

You swivel back and forth in your chair as you watch the thin man on screen, his voice scratchy but strangely soothing as he outlines rationing, supply storage, and evacuation routes.

"We're also negotiating with our neighboring countries about opening borders. Now, anyone seeking refuge would still be required to fill out an application for a temporary visa, but—"

"God, you know they gotta love that," you mumble to yourself.

Hange, tinkering somewhere behind you, laughs and agrees, "Yeah, after decades of treating immigrants like trash, and now we're just knocking on their doors, asking for help. Ridiculous."

"Embarrassing, is what it is."

It was for whichever government official had to make that call, anyway. You're positive that had been a hard pill to swallow.

As far as you've heard, the foreign affairs part of this mess is actually going quite well. You'd accompanied Erwin to the big meeting with Canadian officials and watched him and Pixis plead a case for America, emphasizing just how bad the eruption will be "at home", then switched tactics at whiplash speed to go into how countries needed to work together since this wouldn't just be the US's problem in the long run.

It turned into a rather inspiring speech, if you're being honest, prompted you to text Levi a short, how is E so damn charming all the time? to which he'd responded, Believe me, you're asking the wrong fuckin guy.

With multiple government agencies now backing the states and setting plans in motion, the impending eruption seems even more real. You thought your stress levels were high before, that your sleep pattern left little to be desired, but oh, you had been wrong.

Case in point being Mike walking into the lab with a brown paper bag and slightly unpleasant expression as he asks, "Have you eaten today?"

Your glare has no real meaning as you grumble, "Had a granola bar this morning."

"It's nearly six," he groans, pushing you, chair and all, up to your desk and setting the bag in front of you. "Please eat something before you pass out."

"Okay, okay, Christ. You're more attentive than my mother."

"I met your mom last year, and you and I both know she would be hysterical if she knew how you've been treating yourself lately."

He has a point. In fact, you're glad Mike is naturally quiet and didn't bond too strongly with her, otherwise you have a feeling he would have called her by now to complain.

The chicken salad sandwich you bite into must be imbued with some kind of magic, because you let out an honest to god moan when you swallow the first bite.

"Oh my god, what did you put in this?" You ask as you blink up at your best friend.

Mike snorts and rolls his eyes. "Uh, actual nutrients maybe? Weird how your body needs those."

Hands too busy shoving more food into your mouth, you headbutt him right at the hip, just hard enough to make him grunt and sway. He steadies himself, glances down at you like he's annoyed but ends up breaking into a grin when he catches what you assume to be a piece of chicken salad dotting the corner of your mouth.

"What am I gonna do with you," he mumbles, wiping it with a gentle thumb.

Your body warms with both embarrassment and affection, but you can't quite find a response even as your head clears for the first time in about two days. You really do need to start taking better care of yourself.

The undeniable feeling of being watched makes your neck prickle, and you break Mike's gaze to find Hange staring at both of you, a not-so-subtle smile making their mouth curl mischievously. You have a pretty good idea of what they're thinking, and you're heart starts beating a little faster at the thought of them possibly speaking it out loud, but before they get a chance, Mike's phone rings.

You catch a glimpse of the name displayed before he picks it up—Gelgar—recognize it and tease, "One of the doomsday preppers, right?"

Because no matter how much Mike denies it, just like he does now— "They're not doomsday preppers—" you know that his friends are a little odd. Extremely well prepared, but odd.

"Hey man, what's up?" He answers, stepping away from you. "Isn't it almost two there?"

You don't try to listen in, just look back to Hange and shake your head when their smile grows.

"Stop."

"What?" They giggle. "I'm not even doing anything!"

"You're thinking things, though."

"Well yeah, I'm always thinking things. How else would I have gotten this smart?" They flip their ponytail for emphasis and toss a wink your way, but Hange's voice gets oddly sincere when they tell you, "Seriously, though. You guys should get while the getting's good. I don't know why you haven't jumped each other's bones yet."

You splutter, look around frantically to make sure Mike isn't within earshot, and thank god, he's in the next room over.

"Hange!"

"I'm just saying! It's like watching Erwin and Levi from a few years ago. God, that was a nightmare."

"How dare you. I am nothing like—"

"Yeah, yeah. When do they get back in anyway?"

You both look to the TV that's still playing the live address, easily spotting your missing team members behind Secretary Pixis.

"Probably not 'til later tonight. Levi's gonna try to talk Erwin into getting a hotel, I bet, but he's gonna wanna come back to the lab and check everything before he goes to bed."

"How do you know he wants to come back?"

You show a sheepish grin, fishing the chips out of the paper sack Mike brought, then answer, "'Cause that’s what I’d wanna do."

It's late. Far too late to be at work, but being at home never feels right these days. It's too quiet, too still, too not the lab. The only time you genuinely enjoy being there is when friends are over for a movie or meal over the weekend. Other than that, you're not at all attached.

Not the way you are here.

Almost midnight, you move from table to table, working, organizing, just keeping busy. You're very awake, still jittery from the quake that shook the park at around three that day. It lasted for almost three minutes, splitting the ground dangerously close to Old Faithful, and the geyser hasn't gone off since which is troubling. If too many of the geothermal spots stop releasing pressure, the eruption will take place sooner than anticipated.

It's why you're here so late, pouring over the data, studying the numbers and possible effects.

You're not alone, though. Erwin is also shuffling around the lab, but he's focused on something else, a project of sorts.

"Can you come take a look at this?" He calls from the projection table, and you drop what you're doing to join him.

The model isn't lit up as a hologram, surprisingly. Instead, Erwin has paper blueprints laid, curling at the edges from being rolled up. It takes you a second to realize what you're looking at, but when it comes together, you inhale sharply.

It's a simple design, a square floorplan with a couple entrances. The only exit looks to lead upward, though, and it's easy to tell that means Erwin wants this to be underground. There are notes scribbled in the blank spaces, 4 meters down, bomb proof top, ventilation, generators, gasoline?, rations < 5yrs, medicine, vitamins, guns. The list goes on, handwriting sloppier and sloppier the more thoughts Erwin had at the time.

"You think this would be ready in a year?"

Erwin shrugs. "With the right construction team, yes. That one bunker designer…" Erwin snaps, trying to think of the name, but it doesn't come to him. "Whoever—He built ten shelters in two years."

You stick your hands in your back pockets as you lean over to look closer. It could just be your overworked brain, but it looks like a good design, something someone actually has a chance of surviving in.

Hearing your name makes you look up again. Erwin has you pinned with one of his serious blue gazes. "No one else will understand, so please keep this plan to yourself."

You nod but venture to ask, "You haven't told Levi?"

"No," he answers, mouth pulling downward. "It's… Going to be a fight."

"Understandably so. You're basically married to the volcano, though, Erwin."

"So are you."

His eyes are shining as your lips twist into a grimace. He's gotten to know you well over the years. You've always shared a certain bond over Yellowstone, one the other team members just don't have. To them, it's just a job, just science.

To you and Erwin, though, it's a religion. You're in love with the park, all its secrets and eccentricities. It's your home; it's where you belong.

"Assuming this does get built," Erwin starts, lifting a thick eyebrow in curiosity. "You would want to stay, right?"

"You mean, ride out a supereruption? Be the first to see the zone-one damage?"

Erwin doesn't answer, but he does smile, excitement dancing just below the surface of his stare.

You feel it too, the urge to throw caution to the wind, to take a chance that could very possibly get you both killed. The Kraffts flash through your mind again, their failed attempt at escape.

A breathless, "Fuck yeah," tumbles from your mouth before you can dwell on the consequences for too long.

It's time to either live it up or go down in ash and flames.

6 M O N T H S B E F O R E

Yellowstone is unrecognizable. The ground is mostly made up of large crevasses and smaller cracks, debris from fallen buildings left in piles with no one to clean them up.

The geysers are all inactive at this point, but steam is still rising from the springs, and the mudpots are still bubbling. It's the only thing that's keeping the volcano from erupting.

The ground shakes multiple times a day, the lab seismographs constantly picking up activity. The little ones don't faze you anymore. You and Mike secure the glass samples to make sure they don't break while Erwin and Levi basically hug their computers. Yours was damaged in the quake that prompted Hange and Moblit to leave—a 6.7 that caused Hange to fall into their desk, breaking their collarbone in the process. After getting Hange pain meds and a sling, the two of them were on a plane to D.C. that same night.

Every day is another risk taken. Now, it's just you, Erwin, Levi, and Mike.

The latter two spend most of their days dropping hints about leaving soon as well. Mike has already made plans to fly to Norway and join his not-doomsday prepper friends and brings it up often.

"You should come. See the tulip fields while they're still around."

"Gel and Nana have done a great job setting up the ranch. They wanna let as many people stay as they can."

"You'd really like them. They bicker like an old married couple, but they're good people."

Levi takes a different approach with Erwin, appeals to the other man's desire to help and protect.

"We really should head to the homeland security office. They don't know what they're dealing with."

"Dok is an idiot. They need a bigger brain over there for guidance or whatever."

"Your long-term plan will be better than anything those government fucks will come up with anyway."

Every time, you and Erwin gently wave them off with promises of "soon" and "just a little longer." Neither of you breathe a word about staying. Despite the fact that construction on the bunker has not started and you're running out of time, both of you are dead set on the plan: go down with the park.

You're found out before it can come to fruition, however.

The remaining team is sitting in the lab, busy with their own little projects, when Mike looks up suddenly, takes a deep breath, then says, "Earthquake," just as the seismogram starts going wild.

He pulls you from your chair quickly, dropping to the ground and bringing you with him to crawl under your desk. On your knees, your body curls in on itself and you lock your hands over the back of your neck as the floor beneath you starts to rumble violently.

You can hear Levi cursing from somewhere as the sound of glass shattering rings throughout the lab. You think another computer falls, models and books flying from shelves.

Mike huddles over you, one hand gripping the leg of the desk while the other protects your ribs. You want to tell him to shield himself, but you know there's no use. Besides, the weight and warmth is comforting even in the face of danger—his chest hot against your back, the epitome of a knight in shining armor.

It lasts for several minutes. The power cuts off, windows crack, doors swing open only to slam shut again. You know the lab is going to be an absolute wreck when it's over.

When the shaking finally settles, everyone crawls out of their hiding places. Levi warns, "Be ready for aftershocks," as if you don't know, and Erwin fumbles in his desk until he finds a flashlight.

The ray of light illuminates the damage. Just as you suspected, the place looks like a tornado blew through. Glass litters the floor along with the far-flung books and park models. Both Levi and Erwin's computers fell and disconnected, and your stomach drops as you think about all the potentially lost information.

"You okay?" Mike asks, pulling you up to your knees so he can look at your face.

"I'm fine," you tell him, his hands on your cheeks making you flush, so you distract yourself. "E, Levi, you guys okay?"

"Yes," Erwin answers first.

Levi shows his face, a deep frown making his brow furrow, as he looks at his desktop. "I'm pissed but uninjured."

The four of you spend the next couple of hours cleaning up what you can, pausing and taking cover when the aftershocks hit, then starting over as the lab sustains more and more damage.

Mike sweeps up the glass. Erwin focuses on getting the computers back on the desks safely then goes and checks the projection table. You and Levi collect the bigger items, setting books back on shelves.

You don't think about the mistake before it's too late, when Levi is already pulling out the blueprints that were hidden behind the stack of encyclopedias.

As he stills completely, you turn to look at him and find him staring down at the large, uncurled papers. Your instinct is to snatch them from his hands, but it's no use. He's already seen enough.

"What the fuck is this?" His voice comes out like poison as he immediately looks at Erwin.

The larger man glances at Levi, eyes trailing to what he's holding, then pales.

"Levi..."

"Is this a god damn bunker? Are you planning on staying in this hellscape?"

Erwin strides over to him and reaches for the prints, but Levi tugs them out of reach.

"Answer me," he spits. "Is that your plan?"

"I—" Erwin swallows thickly before answering, "Yes."

It's silent for a long time, and the more it drags on, the tighter Levi's lips get, gray eyes shiny with quiet rage.

This is what Erwin was trying to avoid, why he insisted on keeping the bunker a secret.

But while Levi is glaring at Erwin, you feel another gaze on you. Skin crawling, you chance a glance up at Mike, stomach churning when he looks away quickly and bites his lips. He knows. Somehow without anyone saying anything, Mike knows you’re planning to stay too.

Heavy breathing and the distant sound of rumbling earth is all that can be heard, followed by backup generators roaring to life and restoring the overhead lights.

"You too?" Mike finally speaks. “You wanna stay too?”

You chew on the inside of your cheek, unable to answer. He sounds so disappointed—defeated—and it makes you feel sick.

"Do you guys know," Levi growls, "How fucking insane that is? This is the dumbest, most reckless, selfish fucking thing you could do! And, I know it's all your thinking!" He drops the blueprints in favor of shoving Erwin roughly, making him stumble back.

"Hey," you step toward him, but the small man just turns to you and accuses, "And, you egged him on, yeah? Did you even think of us? How we would feel? Staying here is suicide!"

"I have a plan, Levi," Erwin says, raising both hands to his head and effectively disheveling his own hair. "If you just look at the plans. I know what we need to survive. I've done the math, I've studied the—"

"Jesus Christ, we're talking about an eight hundred degree pyroclastic flow! Tephra that will suffocate you. You really think being a few meters down during the eruption will be enough?" Levi is screaming now, his voice cracking, and you think you see tears at his waterline.

It makes the spaces behind your eyes burn, but it’s only partly out of guilt. The other emotion that’s welling up in you is anger, a betrayal you can barely wrap your head around, but it comes tumbling out anyway.

“Do you even know us? You think we can actually leave the park behind?” Your voice rises to match Levi’s, gains his acidic attention once again. “I don’t even understand how you can run away, after everything you’ve put into this place! How can you just—” You let out a sound somewhere between a groan and a cry as you raise your hands to your face and shove your palms to your eyes. “I get Mike because he doesn’t have anything fucking left here. He’s just been helping out—”

“You think I don’t have anything left here?” He asks quietly from beside you, and when you look at him with a watery stare, you find him wounded. His jaw slides forward as he sucks on his teeth, and fuck, his eyes are getting glossy too.

“See, this is exactly what I mean,” Levi gestures wildly at the two of you. “Mike and I have stayed because you guys won’t fucking leave, and now it comes out that you were never planning to. When were you gonna tell us? Would you have even given us enough time to get out?”

“Of course!” Erwin takes him by the shoulders, and Levi snarls up at him. “I was working up to it. I wasn’t ready to—to deal with this.”

“I can’t believe this. You really think a whole team of workers is gonna come out here to help build this? You wanna put their lives in jeopardy too?”

“We—”

“You haven’t even thought this through all the way! When did you come up with this? When you hadn’t slept or eaten in forty-eight hours? When your brain wasn’t fucking functioning at full capacity?”

Erwin stays quiet, and so do you because Levi has a point. Taking care of yourselves physically has not been high on either of your lists of priorities, and you’re sure your mental state has suffered for it. All the nights spent at the projection table, mapping out ideas, growing giddy over the idea of staying for the eruption. Was that just two people high off passion, becoming more and more unhinged with each passing day?

Quite possibly.

You expect the fury to be enough to push Levi away, that he’ll simply give up, drag Mike out with him, and leave you and Erwin to hunker down like you’d planned.

But, that is not the case.

Instead, he shoves a thin finger into Erwin’s chest, gritting out, “Pack your fucking bags so we can go to D.C. where they need you.”

Erwin takes a breath then slumps in defeat. Now, when faced with the obstacle that is his boyfriend, you figure he’s weighed the pros and cons and made a decision. Between his love for the park and his love for Levi, he’d rather salvage the latter.

Mike shifts next to you, grumbles out a low, “You too,” that makes the tears finally fall from your eyes. “I’ll take you on one last ride to the springs, but then we’re leaving.”

He stays true to his word, and you cry the entire time you’re in the chopper, headset smushed against one ear as you rest your head on the window and look down at the Grand Prismatic, the steam rising from it. It’s beginning to grow discolored with all the activity, but it’s more stunning now than it’s ever been.

Soon, it’ll be completely covered. All of it will. And, you could have been too, stuck underground for a couple of years only to be the first to step out into the pure destruction.

That’s not an option anymore, though, not with Mike looking as grave as he does, not with the way he shadows you in your apartment as you gather the necessities, like he thinks you’re going to bolt and run back to the lab, not when the two of you meet back up with a still-fuming Levi and a despondent Erwin to head to the airport.

The tickets are outrageously priced at such short notice, but that doesn’t stop Levi and Mike from passing their credit cards over.

“Two for Washington D.C.”

“And, two for Bergen, Norway.”

Boarding passes in hand, the four of you walk through the bustling airport together for as long as you can before you have to inevitably split up. Levi glares at you but still pulls you into a tight hug, grunts into your ear, “You’re so stupid,” before letting go and turning to Mike. “Keep her safe, boy scout. I’m trusting you.”

Mike nods, and both of them clasp hands as you turn to look at Erwin. Tears and pathetic sniffles return when you walk into his open arms, clinging to him and mumbling, “‘M sorry, ‘m sorry. I would’ve followed you.”

“I know.” He rubs your back and heaves a sigh. “I know you would have.”

He eventually disentangles you to hold you at arm’s length, wipes the moisture from your face with his thumbs, then shows a sad smile. “See you in a few years, yes?”

“Yeah.”

One more squeeze, and everyone turns away to walk to their respective gate. Mike’s hand splays across your back, warm, guiding you in the right direction, keeping you steady. He’s always kept your feet planted firmly on the ground. You figure, if there’s one person you’d like to experience the downfall of society with—above ground—it’s him.

S I X W E E K S B E F O R E

Norway is kind of incredible. It has a natural beauty that takes your breath away just like Yellowstone used to, but it’s vastly different. Everything is green, including the lights in the sky at night. You’re surrounded by rolling hills and mountains, and you just know it’ll be beautiful under thick layers of snow.

The once rustic ranch, now restored, is made up of several small houses and a farm full of cows and goats. It’s sad to think about the fate they will eventually meet (slaughter then stomachs), but you know it’s necessary to prepare for the coming years.

And, the owners have definitely prepared.

Gelgar and Nanaba are everything Mike described and more. Between taking care of the farm and setting up energy sources, they do their best to make you and the other arrivals feel at home. They’ve designed the ranch to house up to about thirty people, a commune of sorts (minus any cult-like vibes). Naturally, everyone pitches in and helps around the place. You find yourself cleaning a lot, but you don’t mind. It’s a nice, mindless task that keeps you from thinking too hard about everything you’ve left behind.

You also like to join Nana outside, help with the animals and enjoy the sunshine while you still can. Of course, this subjects you to endless teasing especially today when she catches you staring into the distance at Mike who's helping Gelgar fix a solar panel.

His shirt is starting to stick to his back from sweating, muscles straining under the damp cloth, and good lord, when did he get that broad? Sure, he's always been tall and fit, but working on the homestead has definitely made him more built. That along with the fact that his hair has gotten long enough to tie up in a bun has your mouth going a little dry.

"Like what you see?" Nanaba asks, accent thick, voice full of amusement.

You shoot her a look, face all scrunched up when you mumble, "Don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh?" She sticks her tongue out. "Don't be coy. I see the way you both look at each other."

"Tch."

"And, how both of you volunteer to cook with the other when it's your turn to. You move around each other like you know exactly where the other is. Two halves of a whole."

You roll your eyes. "We've just worked together for a while. We make a good team."

She's not wrong, though. Since coming to Norway, you and Mike have grown even closer. There was a period of time when you could hardly look at him, too guilty for trying to stay at the park, guilty for hurting him, but eventually the two of you fell back into your normal dynamic—joking, laughing, touching just a little too much, smiling when you think no one's looking. You even spent an afternoon together in a nearby field of flowers, just like he'd promised. With a picnic basket full of food, and a blanket to lay on, you'd admired the clouds overhead while enjoying the rustling grass surrounding you.

It's been your favorite day since coming here, had reminded you of the lunches you used to share on the mountain.

You're not brave enough to make any sort of move, though. Mike is just so good. There's a chance his affections are simply based in friendship, and that's something you're scared to ruin. He means too much to you.

"How long did you work together?"

"Like, four years, give or take a few months."

"And, you're still acting like nothing is there?" Nanaba tsks. "Ridiculous."

"How long did it take you and Gel to get together?" You ask, then quickly backtrack, "Not that that's what I want with Mike necessarily."

"Mhm," she smirks. "Gel and I did it backwards. Got pissed at a bar and fell into bed together. Then we started to get to know each other and found out we just worked."

Sounds about right, you think. The couple has an interesting back-and-forth, half bickering, half innuendo. You can always, always see the love in their eyes, though. That's what you want in life. That’s what you want with Mike. Even if you won't admit it out loud.

You turn your gaze back to the roof he and Gelgar are on just in time to see him making his way down the ladder. Once on the ground, he and the other man start striding over to you. Mike's face is red, sweat beading at his hairline, and Gelgar's pompadour is beginning to fall.

"Think we got it fixed up," Mike announces, lifting the bottom hem of his shirt to wipe his forehead.

You stare at his toned stomach for just a little too long, the lines of his hip bones leading into the waistband of his jeans.

Nanaba's words ring in your head again—fell into bed, fell into bed, fell into bed—and you fixate on the idea of you and Mike doing the same. To have him hovering over you, or maybe you over him, thighs on either side of those hips as his hands trail up your body—

You shake the thought from your head, letting your glazed eyes refocus on the men in front of you.

"Alright, I'm gonna grab a shower before dinner. Who's cooking tonight?"

“I believe it's Lynne and Henning," Nana answers.

Mike nods then heads toward the little house he's been living in, right next to yours, of course. He reaches out to let his hand brush yours as he passes, and it takes conscious effort not to grip onto one or two of his large fingers and follow him.

"God, that's painful to watch," Gelgar snorts.

Nana laughs and agrees, "I was just telling her the same thing."

"Oh, shut up. Ya' couple of meddlers."

A line forms every evening outside of the main house, the one Gelgar and Nanaba share. You and Mike stand together at the back, watching everyone in front of you. Some are families, some are couples, some are here alone. You figure, no matter their status, the ranch is a nice place to be—peaceful, home-y despite its size. So far, everyone gets along.

Only the kids complain about chores, about seven of them constantly running around together, but that’s to be expected, and honestly, you don’t mind picking up their slack. Life is about to get very difficult for them. They should get to be children for a little while longer.

Potato soup is poured into your bowl with a ladle, topped with shredded beef and green onions, then you and Mike retire back to your little cottage home to eat and watch TV. It stays on the same channel, world news, and there’s always a long segment that covers Yellowstone and what it’s doing.

It is not uncommon at all to look up from your food and see Erwin or Levi’s face on screen, speaking with experts, sometimes in interview-like settings.

Tonight, they’re covering a problem that’s been going on for some time, but everyone figured would resolve itself: some people will not leave the most dangerous zones, and it’s because they simply do not believe an eruption will take place.

Even with the evidence, the science backing it—even with actual federal authorities knocking on their doors and telling them to leave—there are many people who just want to stay put. It’s insane to you, makes your blood boil. Children have been taken from their homes to be placed in safer areas, which only causes the disbelievers to get angrier. They want to say “I told you so”, but that’s not going to happen.

What’s going to happen is getting burned alive in the flow that pours from the volcano. They will die a painful death, get buried under meters of fallout, ash, snow. There’ll be nothing to recover except for petrified, charred corpses.

Of course, the irony is not lost on you; you and Erwin were both willing to chance similar fates, but you still think the two of you would have been more prepared than these regular-Joes who think their front door is enough to stop a volcanic eruption.

“In the end, there’s no reasoning with people like this,” Erwin says on camera, a soft, sad smile playing at his lips. “When a person is so, uh… Dead set on staying, it will take an unstoppable force to move them.”

In your case, that unstoppable force had been Levi screaming at you while holding back tears.

“Unfortunately for them, this force is the eruption, and they won’t be able to leave when that occurs.”

“Because they’ll be dead,” the reporter states more than asks.

Erwin nods and answers with a grim, “Yes. Yes, they will be.”

They’re not trying to be subtle, obviously hoping that this will get through to the stubborn masses, but you doubt it will. They’re living on borrowed time at this point. Any day could be their last.

Mike is quieter than usual as he eats, barely even looking at the television screen, and you have a feeling he’s thinking about how close you were to staying alongside those stupid assholes. It’s still a touchy subject, one both of you do your best to avoid. You’re mostly happy to be in Europe, spending your days with Mike and his friends and everyone else running around here.

But, there’s also a part of you, deep down inside, that aches, that misses the park, that still wants to be right in the middle of the destruction. Watching it blow from so far away is going to hurt. This massive monster you’ve fallen in love with over the years will never be the same, and your last good look at it was that tearful helicopter ride.

You’re not resentful toward Mike or Levi for dragging you out of the lab that day, but you are grieving in a sense.

The program ends with Erwin giving one last warning— “If you insist on staying, I’d advise bomb-proofing your home, stocking up on several years-worth of rations, and installing one hell of a ventilation system. Good luck.”

Mike clears his throat and stands, grabbing his empty bowl as well as yours, then heads into the kitchen to rinse them off.

Sighing, you follow him, lean against the counter a couple feet away as you think of something to say that won’t sound too forced.

“Hey,” you start.

Mike gives a low, “Hm?” as he holds the dishes under hot water, finally glancing over when you gently nudge him in the side.

“Thanks for…” You take a deep breath, pinned by light green eyes, then try again. “Thanks for bringing me here.” He blinks but doesn’t say anything, so you continue. “It’s really nice. And, I’ve bonded or whatever with Nana.”

“But, you miss the park,” he says.

You shrug. “I mean, yeah. That park was my life, but… Probably dying in it was not one of my brighter ideas.”

He snorts, shuts off the water, then turns to you. Craning your neck, you take in his face—really take it in—the few strands of hair that hang freely past his jawline, the way his beard, no longer stubble but not exactly thick, forms around his mouth and connects with his sideburns, his strong, slightly curved nose, how his Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows. He’s so painfully handsome, especially all shaggy and rugged, and it makes your heart beat too hard and too fast in your chest.

Mike dries his hands on a dish towel, looking down at them when he tells you, “I’m glad we were able to get you out of there. It’s not something I’ll ever feel bad about. Even if you hate me for it.”

“I don’t hate you,” you scoff. “Never could. You’re my best friend, Mike.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you smile, then think of Nanaba earlier that day and laugh quietly.

“What?”

You wave a hand, shake your head. “Nothing, nothing, just… Nana has… Ideas, or something.”

There’s no need to elaborate. Mike understands what you’re trying to say. He inhales then breathes out it out in a chuckle as he posts up against the counter next to you. “Yeah, Gelgar does too.”

“Guess they don’t know us very well.”

A silence hangs between the two of you, one that would normally be comfortable but is now a little thick given the subject matter of your conversation.

You and Mike. Just earlier that day you had been thinking about how scared you are to ruin the friendship, but the more you imagine, the more you get lost in the fantasy…

“Or maybe…” You glance over to see Mike nibbling on his bottom lip, eyes fixed on the ground as he continues, “Maybe they know us better than we know ourselves.”

He raises his head, gaze locking with yours, and you stop breathing. Because that stare is so hesitant, searching for something inside of you as if you have the answer, but you’re just as scared and confused as he is. Over four years of friendship—of good, meaningful friendship—is that worth risking just because you’re both curious?

Or has it all been leading to this since the start? Since those first, short conversations, since the meals shared with one another, the affectionate gestures. Mike has always kept your head on straight, looked after you with even more care than he had with the park’s wildlife.

You thought it’d all been one-sided pining, that he was just glad to have someone who understood him a little better than everyone else because you do. You understand his passion for the planet, you understand all his little fixations. You appreciate every eccentricity like he appreciates all your neuroses.

“Maybe so…”

Two very large hands are on your face, tilting upward, and your lungs begin to burn as Mike strokes just under your eyes with the pads of his thumbs. He has to lean down quite a bit, pauses just over your lips to let out a tiny huff of surprise, disbelief, awe maybe, then closes the rest of the miniscule distance.

He is very warm and very firm against you—feels good, all the comfort of someone familiar but still so new. Your lips fit together perfectly, and at last, you’re able to breathe again, mouths moving in an experimental back and forth, feeling each other out until he runs the tip of his tongue along the seam of your lips. Gripping strong shoulders, you let the kiss deepen, opening your mouth for him, and Mike groans when he’s finally able to taste you.

Hands fall from your face, moving down, down, down, brushing your ribs, settling at your hips, but his fingers are long enough to curl and dig into the meat of your ass, making you gasp and press harder against him.

Rolling his pelvis into yours, you very quickly find yourself pinned between Mike’s body and the counter. Your grasp travels to the back of his neck, pulling him closer—you just need him closer—and he must feel it too because he hoists you up and sets you on the countertop, making room for himself between your legs.

You feel too hot and too desperate, but it’s good, a release that’s needed to happen for far too long. All manner of geothermal metaphors swim through your mind, spurting geysers and boiling mudpots, and it makes you giggle against him, biting down on his bottom lip and smiling around the flesh as he lets out another one of those rumbling, satisfied noises.

“What’re you laughin’ at?” Mike mumbles, and for some reason, it’s strange to hear his voice so close, so quiet, as you’re pressed together, breathing each other’s air. It’s intimate and different, but it’s right.

“I’m just…” Another little laugh, “Thinking about the volcano.”

“When are you not thinking about the volcano?” You have a feeling he’s rolling his eyes, but he still grins and kisses you again.

“It’s all dirty things if that helps.”

Mike nods slowly, lips trailing from your mouth toward your neck. “Helps some.”

You tilt your head to give him better access and let out a little whine when you feel him bite down on a patch of skin just beneath the notch of your jaw, wrap your legs around his waist and do your best to rock into him because good god, you want him.

Fingers tangling under his loosening bun, you tug him back to your mouth, slotting your lips against his and sliding your tongue between his teeth. He presses you closer with a hand on the small of your back, squeezing the air from your lungs so all you can breathe is him.

“Mm, Mike, Mike,” you pant, barely breaking away only for him to chase after. You laugh, push his chest at the same time you gently tug at his hair, and he backs away just enough for you to get a good look at his half-lidded eyes and spit-slicked lips.

Honestly, staring at him now, you can’t believe you made so long without ever making a pass at him. He’s gorgeous, built like a roman statue only larger, with sun-kissed skin and a startlingly light gaze that threatens to leave you boneless.

“D’you wanna, maybe…” You swallow and blink up at him, too many questions suddenly invading your mind—is it too early for sex? Will he think you’re easy? What if it doesn’t actually work out? But, you bite the bullet anyway and finish, “Go to the bedroom?”

Mike is silent for a few beats, leaving you to second guess yourself and brace for disappointment and embarrassment, but then he clicks his tongue and answers, “Uh, yeah. Yes, let’s do that,” in a voice a little higher than usual, and scoops you from the counter.

Every little house on the ranch is laid out the same, so it does not take him long to find your room. He sets you down at the threshold, and from there, it’s a flurry of discarded clothing and stumbling to the bed.

“How have we never done this before?” He huffs, crawling over you, leaving wet kisses in his wake.

You’ve still got an arm covering your bare chest, but Mike doesn’t seem self-conscious in the slightest which comes as a surprise considering how reserved he typically is. Not that he has anything worth hiding—not the thin layer of hair that dances over his barrel chest, not the ridiculously cut abdominals or sharp ‘V’ of his hips, and definitely not the thick cock bobbing against his stomach as he moves. You would be intimidated if you didn’t know him as well as you do, but you’re sure that he’ll be gentle with you. Mike may be many things, but careless is not one of them.

He reaches your mouth, kisses you so deeply it makes you dizzy, and as he does, he very slowly pulls your arm from your chest, leaving you vulnerable—free for the taking.

His touch is soft enough to tickle as he brushes over one of your nipples, making you exhale against him and arch your back like a silent plea for more. He traces around the bud, makes it pebble before carefully rolling it between two fingers.

Warmth spills into your gut, makes you squirm on the bed, and a moan makes its way from your throat as Mike gently tugs at the sensitive flesh. He lowers his head again, lavishing the same kind of attention on your other nipple with his mouth. He nibbles and licks and sucks, and you wriggle and whimper beneath him, one hand trailing down his body until you’re able to close your fingers around the head of his cock.

Mike grunts, thrusts into your hand a couple times, enough to make precum drool from his tip, but before he can get too carried away, he says just above a whisper, “Let me get you ready,” then moves to lay between your spread legs.

Sliding his arms under your thighs, he locks them into place, and you release a shaky breath, feeling his eyes taking you in for several seconds before licking up your slit once then pushing deeper.

“Oh, fu—”

Both your hands shoot downward, one gripping the messy bun at the back of his head as you shudder at the sensation of his beard against your pussy. You’re wet in seconds, core pulsing as Mike uses his tongue to slowly open you up, then pulls back to flick over your clit.

“Mike—Mike—”

He hums into you, shaking his head slowly back and forth, no doubt making a mess of his face and you. You don’t have anything to say, just feel your throat tightening like there are unspoken words that need to come out, but you can’t think straight, not when he’s doing what he’s doing, not when you feel the tips of his fingers reaching out to spread your lips.

He is thorough bordering on methodical, makes sure you’re at the point of full body shakes before he gives you a break, and then, when your breathing returns to a normal rate, he starts all over again. There is a tightness in your gut that builds and builds then dissipates every time he stops, and he must know because when you whine in frustration, Mike just grins and kisses the inside of your thighs.

The same pattern is repeated with his fingers, just one at first, massaging your walls perfectly, then a second that makes your eyes roll into the back of your head. He rubs over the swelling tissue inside of you, seems to enjoy every little gasp and noise you make, including the unsatisfied one you let out when he pulls his fingers from you.

You can feel how damp the bedspread is underneath you, can see the evidence of your arousal on Mike’s face, and it makes you flush but doesn’t stop you from tugging him down for another messy kiss.

“You ready?” He asks, sounding just as breathless as you feel, and you nod furiously, bending your knees and planting your feet on the mattress so that you can lift your hips to his.

Mike chuckles, reaches down between the two of you to take hold of his length and taps your clit with his cockhead a couple times—simultaneously the most infuriating and most erotic thing you’ve ever experienced. Slowly, he lines himself up, just barely pushing forward, and when you bite your lip and squeeze your eyes shut, Mike tells you to, “Breathe, baby, open up for me.”

He already sounds wrecked, like he’s fighting the urge to just sheathe himself entirely, but he waits, giving you one inch at a time with periods of adjustment in between. You always sort of figured he was big, but this burning stretch is something you hadn’t imagined even in your lewdest of fantasies. You’re incredibly full, feel him in your gut and throat and everywhere, but it isn’t bad; it’s just a lot.

“Okay,” you stroke the forearm next to your head and nod. “Okay, you can start moving more.”

Mike’s brow creases. “You’re sure?”

“About as sure as I can be with a monster cock inside m-me—” Your laugh turns to a moan as Mike begins to pull out, eyes trained on your face for any sign of real discomfort, but your mouth just drops open, your own eyebrows raising at the feeling of his length hitting every one of your most sensitive spots.

“Holy…”

He pushes back in quickly, still mindful of what your body can take, and when all you do is cry his name and scratch down his back, Mike starts up a steady rhythm that has you seeing god.

That tightness is back, hotter than before, threatening to burn you up entirely as your cunt flutters and spasms and leaks around Mike’s length.

The sound of a hoarse groan makes you open your eyes, and you follow Mike’s line of vision to where you’re connected, see his cock sliding in and out of you, dripping slick and ringed in white cream toward the base. The sight makes you clench around him, and Mike swears under his breath then leans forward to gather you in his arms. Your head lolls back as he lifts you, sitting on his knees for just a second before falling onto his back and letting you drop onto him.

You choke, and Mike pants, but his hands are tight at your hips, moving you up and down his length like a sleeve. His pupils are blown wide when you look down at him, hair nearly entirely out of its tie, bottom row of teeth exposed as his jaw slides almost primally.

He looks completely lost in you, possessed as he fucks up into your pussy rougher than before. You bounce in his lap, whimpering his name with every thrust, growing in volume when you feel a finger press against your clit.

“You gonna come for me?” Mike grits out, rubbing a circle over the swollen bundle as his eyes flick from your chest to your face.

You nod, ignoring the burning in your thighs in favor of the sensation between your hips. “Yeah, I—I—Fuck, Mike—”

“Come on, baby, come on—wanted to see this for years, come all over my cock…”

You snap, legs shaking as your climax crashes through you. Your cunt pulses around Mike, coating him in more of your juices and making him groan and fuck you through it. You whine at the stimulation, swollen walls so sensitive yet taking everything he has to give you.

Every thrust to your g-spot makes you gush a little more, come a little longer, until all you can do is fall onto his chest and let him use you as he needs to. You leave marks on his pecs, bites and scratches, and Mike grunts at every one of them until he sits up and flips you once again.

“Where do you want me?”

“Anywhere, I don’t care, I don’t care,” you babble.

Mike inhales sharply then lets out a long groan as he pulls out and shoots his load onto your stomach. It’s warm and thick, some pooling in your belly button as Mike makes a trail down to your clit where he smears the last few drops. You twitch at the contact, hole clenching around nothing now, but you can already feel soreness settling into your muscles.

Mike gives you two little pecks on the mouth, then one last, longer kiss before rolling to lay on the mattress beside you, chest rising and falling with deep breaths.

This silence doesn’t bother you. It gives you time to come back to your senses, to reflect, to remember everything that was said which leads you to ask, “You meant that—about wanting this for years?”

Mike turns his head and smiles so sincerely it almost brings tears to your eyes.

“Well, yeah. Been in love with you pretty much since I started at the park.”

He says it so casually, like it’s the most natural thing in the world, and maybe it is, but it still makes your breath catch.

“Seriously?” You turn to lay on your side, and Mike mimics the action, propping his head up with one hand while he lets the other settle on your waist.

He lifts an eyebrow and questions, “Is that so hard to believe?”

“No, I just… Thought it was one-sided on my end, I guess. Like, we were too good of friends.” Mike leans forward to gently headbutt you, and you snort to yourself, “Guess I was wrong.”

“We were both being stupid,” he mumbles. “But, we were also focused on other things, married to the job or whatever.”

Lifting your face makes him lift his, and you smile into another kiss, feeling happier and more balanced than you have in a very long time.

Without much more discussion, you and Mike get up to rinse off, sharing more soft touches under the spray of the shower before crawling into bed together. Falling asleep feels like coming home.

You don’t even mind the smug grin on Nanaba’s face when she sees you and Mike leave your house together in the morning, nor the teasing jabs Gelgar throws your way over lunch. You don’t know if anything is capable of knocking you out of your perfect, peaceful little world on this perfect, peaceful little homestead.

Except maybe a supereruption, of course.

E - D A Y

It happens right in the middle of the morning news. You and Mike are sipping on coffee, expecting the same report you’ve gotten every day— “Nothing yet, closely monitoring, blah blah”—but as the English news anchor tries to introduce the meteorologist, he stops, holds a hand to the speaker in his ear, then looks at the camera with wide yes.

“I’m—I’m getting news that the Yellowstone supervolcano has just begun to erupt, we’re cutting to the US address at Washington D.C. now—”

And just like that, Levi’s face is suddenly on screen, picking him up mid-sentence.

“... One vent open at the present time, but more will open shortly. Stay indoors, ration your food. This is what we’ve been preparing for.” He looks tired, and when you do the math, you understand why: seven AM in Norway is one AM in D.C., meaning Levi was probably woken up to make the announcement.

As always, you can make out Erwin’s figure behind him, hands clasped tight and shaking, and it isn’t until Mike puts a hand on your shoulder that you realize you are trembling right along with your old boss.

“Hey, it’s gonna be okay,” he reassures you. “We’re gonna be okay here.”

You nod and let him pull you closer to him as both of you look back to the screen and listen to what your old colleagues have to say.

The news stays on for the rest of the day. At around ten, the second vent opens up. Then another. Then another. Levi keeps track, expression never betraying the fear he must be feeling, even when he delivers the message that a full ring around the caldera has opened up.

“Obviously, we can’t get in close enough to look, but we estimate at least two thousand four hundred and fifty cubic kilometers of eruptible magma will pour from the volcano. That’s the size of the eruption from around two million years ago, but it could be worse with the current number of vents…”

The journalists on site, usually so ready to ask questions and challenge Levi, are silent today, and you imagine they’re staring with eyes the size of saucers, not quite believing what they’re hearing because it’s happening. It’s finally happening.

You eat a quiet, solemn lunch at Nanaba and Gelgar’s, no one knowing what to say. You feel nauseous, stunned, not unlike losing a loved one. You’re able to forget the absolute destruction taking place in the states for a few minutes at a time, but it always comes back to you, punching you in the gut with the same, brute force every time.

The park. The lab. The forests. The towns. Cities, states, homes, lives, all wiped off the map.

Erwin takes Levi’s place as public speaker close to five, probably to let the other man get some sleep, and reports that the portable seismogram, still linked to the remaining seismographs located around the park, show that there are near continuous earthquakes taking place, “Which could either help should enough earth shift to block the magma chamber, or make things worse by disrupting it further.”

“E is not very good at keeping people’s hopes up,” you mutter, and Mike chuckles.

“Yeah, I see why he makes Levi do all the talking now.”

You both receive texts from the rest of the team, Levi’s coming at an appropriate time but the others reaching you at odd hours of the night when you’re nestled in Mike’s arms.

Neither of you sleep as reality sets in the rest of the way. That was it. The beginning of the end of everything you know. Everything is about to change.

You sniff, try to be as quiet as possible as the tears you’ve been holding back all day finally begin to fall, but Mike knows, feels your body stiffen as you curl into yourself.

He hugs you close to him but doesn’t say anything, just rests his cheek against yours and holds your hand.

There’s nothing anyone can say to make this better, no amount of optimism or determination that will make this any easier. Your home is covered in miles of pyroclastic flow, and as it hasn’t stopped yet, you know this is just the start. Soon, anything left alive will be suffocated by the tephra, people, animals, and vegetation alike. Though you won’t die where you are, everyone at the ranch will be feeling the effects soon enough.

Your mother calls from France where her and your dad decided to “vacation” for the next several years. She’s worked up about not being able to get through to you for almost an entire day, and even as you reassure her that you’re mostly fine, she hears the way your voice cracks and offers to fly to Norway.

“Mom, the airports are shut down by now,” you sigh. “We already talked about this. We can’t see each other for a while, but we’ll FaceTime until we can’t anymore.” Until the cell towers are knocked out, you don’t say.

“I just know my baby girl is hurting right now. I know how much you loved—”

“I know,” you cut her off, scared that hearing it from her mouth will just make you lose it again. “I know, but I’m okay here with Mike and everyone else.”

“You’re sure?” She sniffles, sounding a lot like you. “Cause your father and I will find a way to get to you if you need us.”

“I’m sure, Mom,” you tell her with a sad smile she can’t see. “Get some rest, okay?”

You share many calls like that, many ill-timed text messages until the eruption finally comes to an end six days later. The damage it’s done is incalculable—the entirety of the United states now covered in a cloud of ash that blocks out the sun.

It doesn’t reach you for a few days, but every time you go outside, Mike sniffs the air and mumbles something like, “Smells like sulfur,” or “It’s getting closer”, but after another week, the entire globe is covered.

1 M O N T H A F T E R

Everything is an estimation. Everyone knows that a massive amount of magma erupted, but they don’t know how much. Everyone knows that a large number of people have died, but they don’t know how many. There are too many mysteries, and it’s nowhere near safe enough to send search crews out.

Despite all the warnings, people are still trying to go outside—to see the ash, to review the damage, but even with cloth or medical grade masks, they’re breathing in the dangerous particles floating in the air, tiny minerals that turn to a cement-like substance in their lungs, and because of that, the death count is only rising.

News reports cut in and out, as do phone calls. Some texts never get sent or received, so all you truly have is your little home and Mike.

And, you cry, and you mourn, and you miss your friends and family—fuck, you don’t even know how you’ll survive so long without them—but you also revel in the fact that you’re safe. Not everyone can say that. The fact that you had almost willingly stayed in the most dangerous zone of the explosion is laughable now. There’s no way you and Erwin would have survived that, something he agrees with you on when you share a short phone call with him just to check how he and Levi are doing.

They’ll be staying at the Homeland Security compound for the forseeable future, but he assures you they’re well-prepared to brave the years-long gray storm.

Without any livestock to take care of, or mouths to feed other than yours and Mike’s, you find yourself with an abundance of free time. You still have power thanks to the solar panels and the couple of windmills set up around the ranch, but you don’t know how long that will last.

You both read a lot, do puzzles together, fall into bed both out of desire and just because there’s not much better to do.

And, that part of your apocalyptic life is kind of great. Mike is great. He takes care of you both in and out of the bedroom, is gentle with you until you tell him not to be, and then he’s more than happy to succumb to your needs. He’d invested in a frankly absurd amount of condoms before the eruption so he wouldn’t have to worry about pulling out every time, but every once in a while you want him like you had him the first time—desperate and passionate and completely raw.

That’s the feeling you’re experiencing tonight, staring at Mike from your place on the couch rather than at the book in your hands.

You see him smile before he actually looks at you, but when he does, he has a glint in his eyes you’ve gotten very familiar with over the last month.

“Need something, baby?”

You bite your lip to keep from grinning too bashfully and glance back down at the open pages on your lap. “Nuh uh.”

“You sure?”

“Mhm,” you nod.

“Really?” Mike puts down the wildlife magazine he’s perusing and leans closer to you. “’Cause it looks like you might want something.”

You cross your legs, flip a page you haven’t even read, and shake your head.

It’s a dumb game you’ve both started to play, who can hold out the longest. Of course, the longest record is one you both hold—four years and some odd months—but other than that, you usually make it two or three days at most.

But it’s hard with him walking around looking like he does, and for someone so quiet, Mike is mischievous and handsy, knowing just how to rile you up only to walk away and leave you to whatever you were doing before. He whispers in your ear, he grabs your ass, sometimes he’ll just stand right behind you in the kitchen and inhale, trace his nose up your neck so that you shiver and break out in goosebumps, then mumble a shameless, “You smell nice.”

He’s troublingly good at driving you crazy, and you realize this is why it took you so long to actually get together. You can’t imagine being this wound up and wanton in the lab with everyone there to see.

“You know,” Mike speaks again. You look at him from the corner of your eyes as he leans back against the cushions and nonchalantly kicks an ankle over his thigh. “A lot of people are dying. Like, thousands. Millions.”

Frowning, you nod. “Uh, yeah. Worldwide disaster taking place.”

“Yeah, it’s a shame,” he adds. His lips twitch upward for a second before he purses them, waiting for another couple seconds then stating, “Should probably start thinking about… Efforts to repopulate.”

Eyes widening, you tilt your head to the side in disbelief, a short, incredulous laugh bubbling from your throat.

“You should be ashamed of yourself, Mike Zacharias!”

Reaching behind you, you grab a throw pillow and launch it at him. Mike shields himself easily, choking and chuckling as he tries to defend himself, “I’m just—saying! It’s something to keep in mind!”

“Trying to guilt me into sex—” You smack his forearms with the pillow again, “As if I’m not already easy for you—" smack, smack, “—by bringing up all the people dying out there. What is the matter with you?”

He gets a hold of the pillow and rips it from your hands then hugs it to his chest and stares at you with that uncharacteristically devious look. “Is it working?”

You scoff at him, gently kick at his thigh in one last act of defiance before responding, “I mean, kinda.”

And, that’s all he needs to hear before he’s throwing himself at you, pinning you to the couch even as you giggle and squirm, ridding you of the comfortable clothes you have on so that he can kiss and lick every part of you he can reach. He acts like he’s hungry for you, and you have to use all your strength to shove him off of you just so that you can work his pants off and return the favor.

Mike is all grunts and curses as you work him over with your tongue, a hand on the back of your head heavy but not pressuring. He trembles as you take him deeper, his tip hitting the back of your throat and sliding just a little further.

It always hurts your jaw, leaves it sore for a full twenty-four hours at least, but the way his jaw drops and his hands ball into fists make it worth it.

You use one hand to stroke what your mouth can’t reach, the other settling between your own thighs to get you to where you need to be, and only when Mike is panting and you’re dripping slick into your curled palm do you pull off of him.

He helps you into his lap, lets you take your time sliding down his length, because even after as much practice as you’ve had, it hasn’t exactly gotten easier. He’s still massive, and you still have to will yourself to relax around him, but once your muscles have loosened enough, you begin to rock your hips.

Mike lets you use him like that for a few minutes, knows he’s at the perfect angle to rub over your g-spot, so he just watches and leans forward to place teasing kisses around your open mouth.

“Feel good, baby?” His voice drips like honey as he grips onto you to aid in your movement.

Nodding, you dig your nails into his shoulders, then shift to start moving up and down his length. Mike takes it as his cue to take over completely, strong enough to lift and drop you as he pleases, and you both fall into a frenzy of motion, desperate to get off, to get each other off, to share that euphoria.

“Do you actually want to?” You ask in a daze.

Mike cracks his eyes open to ask, “What?” and slows down enough to give you enough breathing room to speak. “Do I wanna what?”

Making lazy air quotes with your fingers, you mimic his deep voice, “Repopulate,” then elaborate, “Have kids. Do you want that?”

Everything stops. Your hips still, as do Mike’s, and he stares at you, the lusty haze of his gaze clearing as he processes what you’re asking.

Feeling completely exposed, you try to rationalize, “I know, I know, we’ve only been doing this for, like, a month, and it’s kind of a terrible time to actually bring new life into the world, but if I’m gonna do it with anyone—”

Mike fists both hands in the hair at the back of your head, pulls you to him to smash your lips together. When he starts bouncing you again, your muffled moan is still loud in the small living room, and Mike’s voice comes out somewhere between desperate and destroyed when he tells you, “Yeah, I want kids. Want you to have my kids.”

“Okay,” you breathe, matching his rhythm, then again, “Okay.”

A switch seems to flip in Mike’s head. You watch and experience him devolve into someone—something—primal. He fucks you like he never has before, long hair hanging in his face, lip caught between his teeth as he groans around it, pistoning into you quick and rough.

“You want it?” He growls, pausing to suck a mark at the swell of your breast. “You want me to come in this pussy?”

Your heart stutters, jaw dropping slightly because Mike isn’t a vulgar man, never has been, but now, the way he’s looking up at you with wild eyes, you know all he needs is the right push, and he’ll lose it completely.

“Yeah, fuck, want you to fill me up, please,” you whine.

Your world tilts as he tosses you long ways on the couch, sliding back into you with ease and demanding, “Touch yourself.”

You grin slyly, “What, don’t have the focus?”

“Not really,” he admits, flicking sweaty hair from his eyes.

Two of your fingers find your clit, massaging it the way you always do when you’re desperate for an orgasm. It makes you clamp tighter around Mike, and you tell him again—beg for him— “Please, baby, want you so bad.”

He comes quicker than usual, shooting line after line deep inside of you until it starts dripping out around his cock.

He can’t stay inside you for long, unable to take the way you keep clenching and twitching from your own ministrations, so Mike pulls out and shimmies down your body so that his face is just above your cunt. At first, he just stares (like always), admiring your swollen folds and how messy you are, but soon he pushes a finger into you, attaching his mouth to your clit shortly after.

It doesn’t take you long. The thought of him fingerfucking his cum further into you paired with the actual sensation of it sends you over the edge within a few minutes, and the two of you are left sweaty and panting, too drunk off each other to really think about the gravity of what you’ve just done but enjoying it all the same.

The feeling eventually returns to your legs, some of the fog in your brain dissipating as you run your hand through Mike’s hair, and when you find that you can, you voice, “Can we even handle a kid? Or like… Can a kid handle the world as it is?”

“Kids are weirdly resilient,” Mike speaks, face pressed against your stomach so that you can feel the vibrations. “And, maybe there’ll eventually be a race of super babies or something—have enhanced lungs to deal with ash. Darkvision and shit.”

You snort and shake your head. “Dummy.”

He retaliates by blowing a raspberry just above your belly-button, grins lopsidedly when you squeal.

“But really, our kids’ll be fine. Volcanologist for a mom and an Eagle Scout for a dad? Doesn’t get much better than that.”

“Oh my god, you were actually in Boy Scouts? Does Levi know?”

Mike makes a little ‘pft’ sound and shoots you an unimpressed look. “Of course not. Like, I’d ever let that tiny, tiny man be right about anything.”

Your laugh is so deep and genuine, it makes your whole body shake. Mike raises his head to keep it from bouncing so much, but you can feel him staring for the duration of your giggle fit. Even through squinted, teary eyes, you can see his gaze is full of adoration, and you figure having two parents who love each other as much as the two of you do will at least make the hard life ahead of you a little easier for a child.

4 Y E A R S A F T E R

Heavy snow falls outside, adding to the thick layers on the ground and clouding the window you’re staring out of. The carrier is nicely heated, ensuring you and its other two occupants stay toasty as you keep eye out for incoming headlights.

“Think that’s them,” Mike says, and you swivel to look out his driver’s side window to see two dull beams of light growing brighter and brighter.

“Don’t know who else it would be,” you joke. “No one else is dumb enough to come back to this place.”

The only sign of your husband raising his eyebrows is the way his hat shifts slightly. “You’re right about that.”

Cinching fur-lined hoods tighter, you both slide out of the tram, boots crunching on ice and snow when you land on the ground. Mike circles to your side, opens the back door, then unbuckles and collects what looks to be a bundle of jackets in his arms. Two light eyes peer out between a beanie and a face mask, gloved hands reaching out and grabbing for you.

“You want Mama?” Mike coos before passing your son to you.

You settle him on your hip, rub his shielded nose with yours, hoping your body heat will help keep him warm out here.

It’s been winter for… Years, now, the ash from the eruption having behaved exactly as you thought it would, blocking out the sun, and sending the planet hurtling into another ice age. It was something not everyone was prepared for—the intense cold, the food and water shortage, the isolation, but you were lucky. You had everything you needed.

The other snow vehicle stops a ways off, lights left on as two figures jump out, recognizable even when completely covered up. One is nearly as tall as Mike, the other considerably smaller even up close.

Pulling his mask down, Erwin shows a brilliant smile as he stops in front of you and Mike, and Levi immediately protests— “Oi, cover your mouth, old man! You need it for more than just talking shit.”

Mike laughs, but still reprimands the other man with a pointed, “Levi,” and a nod toward the little boy you’re holding.

“Fuck—I mean…” Levi takes in a deep breath then apologizes over the whistling wind and falling snow, “Sorry, Huck.”

Bouncing him on your hip, you peer at your son and prompt, “Huckleberry, you remember Levi and Erwin from the computer?”

Though your team has seen him many times on Zoom and FaceTime, this is first time Huck is meeting any of them in the flesh.

Your son looks between them for a while, quiet as he sizes up both of the men, then he reaches out for Levi the same way he had for you just moments before. Levi makes a dissatisfied noise but still takes him from you, and once Huck is passed off, you shuffle to Erwin and wrap your arms around him, breathing into his chest and warming your face.

Your boss squeezes you tightly, mutters a low, “I know, I missed you too.”

It isn’t enough to drown out Levi’s sing-song baby voice, and both you and Erwin glance over to find him with his forehead pressed to Huck’s as he teases, “Can’t believe your parents named you after a volcanic eruption. That was pretty dumb, right?”

Mike glides over, places one hand on Huck’s head and the other on Levi’s, then sighs. “Please don’t criticize my wife’s terrible taste in nam—”

“Hey! You agreed to it,” you shout, taking the little boy back from Levi and glaring at both the smiling men. “Better shut up before you give him a complex. He can understand things, you know. He’s three.”

“Huckleberry Pine Zacharias,” Levi scoffs. “I cannot stand you guys.”

“I think it’s a great name,” Erwin interjects, lightly tapping Huck’s nose under his mask.

“Well, you have shit taste, too.”

“Obviously, if I married a little gremlin like you,” Erwin drawls easily, leaning into the punch that Levi throws into his arm.

“Anyway, we’re here for a reason, right? Other than freezing our asses off?”

“Yeah,” Mike nods, kicking at the snow on the ground like it’ll make a difference.

All of you know that buried beneath all the white is dried pyroclast, but under that…

Is what remains of Yellowstone.

“How do we even go about rebuilding?” Mike is the first to ask.

Erwin stares at his own feet, face scrunched up in thought for a while before looking back up and stating, “From the bottom. Everything starts with a good foundation.”

Levi just scoffs, but you and Mike lock eyes and share a hidden grin.

You take Huck back from Levi, leaning in for a side hug as you do, then suggest to everyone, “Well, then, now that we’ve seen a little of what we’re working with, we should head back to the shelter and start making a plan.”

“Yeah,” Levi agrees. “Gotta start getting ready for the next eruption due in seven hundred thousand years, right?”

“Right.”

After splitting back up into the two separate carriers, Mike follows closely behind the other in order to make it to their newly built bunker without getting lost. It’s perpetually dark from the never ending snow and cloud coverage, hazardous even with the vehicle’s tracks, but you can’t find it in yourself to be scared. Not now, not when life finally feels to be returning to something close to normal.

#aot x reader #aot fanfic #attack on titan fanfic #mike zacharias x reader #snk fanfic #the smut pile collab

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ecoamerica · 2 months

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The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

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whump-a-la-mode · 3 years

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Escape: Part 2

This is a bit different from what I usually do. @equestrianwritingsstuff recently posted a one-off piece, and I got a little bit obsessed with it. So, with her permission, this is a continuation! The original post can be found here.

Summary: After being captured and forced into a torturous reform program, Villain attempts escape-- but throws it all away to save the life of his foe.

CW//Attempted conditioning, denial of food, denial of water, intentional self injury, broken glass, blood, mentions of car crashes, collars, chains, firearms, attempted murder

“Okay.” The sigh was sharp, enough so to make Villain bite their own tongue in apprehension. “Let’s try another one.”

Nosey shuffled through the stack of papers piled before them on the desk. Villain glanced down at the pile-- noting its sheer height. He wasn’t expected to go through all those, right? No, that would certainly take all night.

“Here.” The hero before him settled on one of the pages, picking it up. “This one should be easy.”

Villain muttered something under his breath, laden with swears and insults.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

“Mhm.” A haughty exhale. “Here. If you get this one on the first try, you can go back to your cell and... I don’t know, do whatever it is you do. I’m tired of looking at your face.”

Back to his cell. That made Villain perk up, nearly straining against the cuffs holding him firmly to the table.

“Okay, let’s just get this over with. Here’s the scenario. You’re walking along the street, and you see someone hit by a car. The car does not stop, and the victim is thrown onto the sidewalk in front of you. They are clearly alive, but severely injured. Do you:

A: Use your healing powers to treat their injuries.

B: Search the surrounding area for a civilian with medical training

C: Contact the Heroic Civilian Treatment Team to take the victim to hospital.”

“Um...”

Villain felt the hairs on the back of his neck stick up, despite being half wetted down with sweat.

If someone had been struck by a vehicle, the obvious answer would be to help them as quickly as possible. As soon as injuries like that were inflicted, the clock was already ticking.

The heroes were terribly resistant to him using his powers in any situation-- that was somewhat the whole point of the Villain Containment Practices. But in this case, it would certainly be an exception, right? Their whole job was supposed to be protecting life.

“Uh- I- I think A.” He at last croaked out. “Use my healing powers to stabilize them, then find a civilian doctor to get them to the hospital.”

Nosey sighed.

“A situation like this should always be deferred to us. Using your powers is never the answer.”

They placed down the paper, hastily rearranging the messy stack of them.

“Let’s go back to the gym. I’ll let you off with ten laps, this time.”

Villain gulped, phlegm sliding down a dry throat, as a pair of guards advanced to untie him from the table.

“C- Can I have some water? Please?”

“You’ve already lost your food privileges for the day. Do you really want to lose your water, too? You get water once you’ve earned it. For now, we’re going to the gym.

At this rate, maybe you should just become a permanent resident in our program.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The glass was mocking them.

Villain was certain of that, even as he kneeled on his cot of a bed, half delirious, half exhausted.

The glass of water sat on a small table at the bed’s end. Just a glass, hardly even filled halfway. Haphazardly placed under a faucet for a few moments without thought.

He knew he had to drink it. He didn’t have much of a choice. Tomorrow would only bring more questions, more laps, more push-ups, more lectures. It would be terrible, certainly, but the small amount of liquid would make it at least the tiniest bit more bearable. Give him the tiniest bit more strength.

It was all he had. He’d spent the day watching his classmates-- that’s what the heroes called them, they were fellow prisoners, at best-- eating their meals, while he sat at an empty table.

Just because he had started a fight didn’t mean he should have to starve. Besides, they had it coming. Stuck up ass.

Villain frowned, cracked and dry lips sticking together, and reached forth to pick up the glass.

He needed to drink it, but as soon as he did, it would be gone. He would have to earn the next few drops through countless tears and buckets of sweat. At the very least, right now, he had control. He had a choice.

Not a very good one, but...

When had he gotten to this point? Having a crisis in a barren room over a half-glass of water? He was supposed to be a villain. Others were supposed to fear him.

Besides...

Villain’s hand shook, water sloshing, even as he was careful not to lose a single, precious drop.

He didn’t know how much longer he could survive like this. Endless exercise, endless questions. Maybe they would never let him out. Maybe they wanted him to die here. Hell, they probably wanted him to die here. One less problem, drained of strength until they no longer had enough to breathe.

This was one long, drawn out execution. Even if it wasn’t, he could hardly imagine a situation in which they allowed his parting. In which they considered him at long last “reformed.”

Villain had to leave. He had to. He was leaving here either in a glorious escape, or in a body bag. Or, worse: In a hero’s uniform.

He downed the water, feeling the heavenly moisture fill his throat. It was the best thing he had ever tasted, despite the fact that water had no taste to it.

It was far less pleasant than what would come next. He knew from unfortunate experience that there were only two things that could get him out of this cell: Going to ‘class,’ or having an emergency.

The first wouldn’t work.

There was no camera in the room, he had searched long and hard to confirm that fact. At the very least, he didn’t have to do much in the way of acting. Not yet.

He swung his unsteady legs over the edge of the bed, standing, stumbling halfway to the end table.

Before throwing the glass to the floor.

It was a miracle, that the heroes allowed him glass dishware. The cup exploded, a thousand shining pieces scattering about the floor.

Now, for the unpleasant part.

Villain gritted his teeth, throwing himself onto the broken glass, ensuring that it dug into his flesh, his legs and his palms. At the very least, his screams were genuine.

“Help! Help!” He wailed. “I’m hurt! Help, please help! Oh god, that’s my blood, oh god oh god...”

There was no camera in the room, but the door was plenty thin, and in this facility, screams carried far. To ensure this, he let out a few more cries, carrying them on until the door lock was frantically turned, the door thrown open on its hinges.

Hero’s inhale was quick enough that she nearly started choking on her own breath.

“V-Villain, oh god, that’s- That’s your blood?”

Of course it was, dimwit. It was flooding from his skin, wasn’t it?

“Y- Yes. I tripped, um, oh god, oh...”

The swaying and slurring of his words were not pretend, either. Dehydration and hunger made sure of that.

“Can you walk?” How was there so much concern in her tone?

“Don’t know.”

“We need to try. I can carry you, but- We need to get to the infirmary.”

The hero hurried to their foe’s side, arms under his shoulders helping him to his feet. He could walk on his own, not well, but he could-- though Hero had no need to know that.

“Okay.”

“It’s a pretty long walk. We can take it slow, okay?”

“Yeah.”

That was exactly what they did. Their movements were so painfully slow that at times Villain wondered whether or not they were moving at all, but, after some time, they did cover some distance. The few people awake at such an hour steered clear, seeing a villain covered in blood and wanting nothing to do with it in the slightest.

The infirmary was on the bottom floor, Villain had seen it on his way in, making note of its placement. Of course, Hero wasn’t about to make him struggle down all those stairs. No. She went straight for the elevator, stepping into the isolated box with her foe and letting the doors closed.

This was it. The elevator ride would only last a few moments-- it was now or never.

As subtly as he possibly could, Villain placed his hand upon his injured leg, the minty thrum of healing powers knitting together the slices. Though, it did nothing to dry the blood that had already seeped out.

He was healed, and Hero was alone. Trapped.

By all accounts, it was a fight that Villain should have lost. He was exhausted, stomach left empty for far too long, and veins severely lacking in blood. Hero had the benefit of being well-fed, well-rested, all of it.

But that explanation left out one thing.

Villain was desperate.

He watched the small, digital screen count down the floors.

4...

3...

2...

Now!

The strike may not have been powerful, but it was aided by the sheer speed at what it was launched. Villain’s fist collided with Hero’s temple, knocking her sideways, stumbling. He wasted not a millisecond in preparing his next strike, hearing the crack of a cheekbone beneath his knuckles.

Hero let out a cry, holding her face where a bruise would certainly bloom in the hour. Limbs still soaked in scarlet, Villain swung out with his leg, catching Hero in the knee, sending her to the elevator floor with a hollow crash.

The elevator doors opened.

It was the fastest Villain had ever run in his life, he was certain of that. His legs were little more than blurs of red as he sprinted forth, tearing through a lobby that was nearly barren. An infinitesimal distance between him and freedom.

“Oh no you don’t!”

His legs came out from under him, his face striking the tile floor, almost certainly giving him an identical blessure to Hero.

The voice-- it was Nosey’s stupid, avian squawk. And, too, their polished boot struck Villain’s back.

“You really thought it’d be that easy?”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The metal chafed horribly against Villain’s neck, somehow making his throat’s desiccation more acute. He laid his head against the thin carpet, spine aching terribly. The movement shifted the chain latched onto his collar, the slight clinking noise making his heartbeat stutter.

Tied up like a dog.

“Is this really necessary?” He grumbled, shifting himself to a sitting position, gazing upwards.

To Hero’s bed. Her legs dangled off the side of the mattress, hands gripped into fists around gathered bedsheets.

“We’ve been over this. That cell was a privilege, and you’ve lost it.”

“And so you chain me to the wall like a dog.”

“Exactly. You need to be under my direct supervision.”

“Yeah, whatever. Did you really have to stick this stupid collar on me?”

“I’m no happier about this than you are. But I’m not giving you free reign of my bedroom. You already tried to kill me once tonight.”

“I wasn’t trying to kill you.”

“Whatever. Unlike you, I actually have things to do in the morning. So, if you would please let me sleep?”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe?”

“If you do something for me first.”

“You are in the worst possible position to make demands, right now.”

Villain’s sigh tore at his throat.

“I just want some water.”

“Just that? Wait. You’re not going to smash the glass again, are you? I’m way too tired for that nonsense a second time tonight.”

“Just don’t put the water in a glass, then.”

“You actually just want water?”

“Yes.” He added rather pathetically. “Please?”

“I... Fine. Then you’ll let me sleep?”

“Mhm.”

“Fine.”

Hero stood, glancing suspiciously at her captive as she made her way across the room. As if he could do anything-- the chain was maybe three feet in length. He could barely lay his head down.

She maneuvered to her kitchenette, returning with a plastic cup-- filled to the brim with that precious liquid. She placed it before him. He was already drooling.

“That’s it?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. Goodnight, Villain.”

“Goodnight.”

Was that really all it took to domesticate him? A glass of water? It hardly mattered. As soon as Hero turned off the light, bathing the room in shadow, Villain downed the liquid as though his life depended on it.

Perhaps, it did.

It wasn’t long before Hero’s steady breathing had turned to soft snoring. Villain shifted himself into the most comfortable position he could manage. Even that, however, was far from being pleasant, with the chain threatening to strangle him at any moment.

That wasn’t what kept him from sleeping, however. He needed to sleep. He knew that, he wasn’t stupid. He would need his energy for the next day of lessons, of shouted orders and lectures.

That was all his life would be from now on, wouldn’t it? Orders and exhaustion and being forced to earn the most basic of needs by answering moral quandaries incorrectly.

Villain wanted, longed, to cry. To let out all the horrible emotions that had stuck in his chest cavity, threatening to drown his lungs in sorrow. But that would break the conditions of the deal.

He had to be quiet, or else he might never again be allowed water.

It was that dread in his chest, that hopelessness, that forced him awake.

So, he laid, still, listening to Hero’s snores as his own body refused to allow him unconsciousness.

Snores, and...

Footsteps.

Footsteps? Villain tensed, holding stock still, pricking his ears for the noise. They drew louder, louder, before stopping. Stopping outside the dorm room door.

He held his breath.

The door opened gently enough that the hinges made only the slightest noise. Then, the footsteps were inside.

Villain shrunk down in the corner, making himself far smaller and quieter than anyone of his status should ever have had to be.

Two sets of footsteps. Growing louder, coming towards the bedroom. The bed.

Hero.

“Are you sure we need to do this?” An unknown voice, whispering.

“If you want this plan to work, we don’t have a choice.”

That voice, that voice was not unknown. It was loud, terribly high pitched, terribly-

Nosey.

“We really have to kill them?”

“We won’t get the chance if you keep talking. Just do it, don’t chicken out on me, now.”

“Okay, okay.”

Villain’s heartbeat shivered.

The cocking of a gun. That horrible sound, that precursor of bloodshed.

Then, the shot. Two pairs of footsteps, fleeing, slamming the door behind themselves.

Villain gulped.

It was no doubt what had happened-- if he had had any doubts, they were quickly drowned out as Hero’s breathing hitched, then quieted to an almost imperceptible level. Growing slower, weaker by the second.

They are clearly alive, but severely injured.

In the scenario, he had had three choices. But this wasn’t a training scenario.

Now, he only had two.

A: Praise his lucky stars and use the opportunity to escape. There was a fire escape, just outside the window. He would be gone into the night before anyone knew any different.

Or...

B: Do the right thing.

Villain threw himself against the chain about his neck, collar threatening to cut off his airways. He spun about, gripping the chain in clammy fingers, pulling and tugging and-

Her breathing was getting quieter, weaker.

He pulled harder, muscles straining with the effort. The chain was anchored to the wall with a spike, drilled in. There was no way he could break the chain, no way he could break the spike, but-

Villain’s heel slammed through the plaster and drywall, chain flying backwards at his face. He hardly made note of it. Spike and chain and all dragging behind him, he tore to Hero’s bedside.

It was almost fortunate, that the lights were off. He couldn’t see the extent of the wounds.

He placed his hands upon her head, that minty feeling rushing to his fingers, his palms, her skin.

Using your powers is never the answer.

No. No, that wasn’t true.

Rules didn’t matter. Training didn’t matter. All that mattered was doing the right thing.

#villain whumpee #hero villain whump #conditioned whumpee #whump community #whump

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alphabravocharliedelta · 3 years

Text

Therefore I Am | Russell Adler x Bell! Reader VI

Series: Call of Duty: Black Ops Cold War

Therefore I Am | Russell Adler x Bell! Reader

Chapter VI

Word Count: 7400

[Chapter V] [Chapter VII]

Summary: After somehow reconciling with Adler, Bell and the team are left to continue their pursuit of bringing down the undercover spy ring, but it proves to be more of a challenge as Bell struggles to move on from their Perseus-affiliated past.

Content Warning: mature content, vulgar language, drugs, needles

Notes: We're basically at the halfway point for the series! Good job on making it this far, and I pray that this chapter isn’t too confusing. Also if you guys have song recommendations please let me know in the tags or something I’ve been listening to the same stuff over and over.

[Y/N] "Bell" [L/N]

September, 1983

West Berlin, Germany

The ride to the meeting place was a bit tedious.

Admittedly, the entire neighborhood was foreign to you, and it was only recently that you decided to study an aerial reconnaissance photo of West Berlin. Unlike its counterpart, it felt more vast and populated, multitudes of buildings crowding the damn area. One wrong turn and you would probably wind up in an underground tunnel.

On the bright side, you were allowed to pick a vehicle of your choosing.

You had put in a request for a motorcycle a week ago with Sims. He really wasn't joking when he was able to get practically anything, as long as Adler approved (he was the one that keeps the checks after all).

"It's one of the newer models. I had it modified for longer distances and smoother sailing, if you get my gist," Sims had informed as he pulled away the grey tarp. "You have good taste, Bell. Mind if I take it for a joy ride sometime?"

Practically the entire team, aside from Hudson, were already signing up to try out the bike, and you had to set some boundaries. The moment you set eyes on the bad boy you fell in love with it, and knowing everyone else, they would somehow mess it up one way or another.

"Wow. Looks like there's space for two people on there," Woods had commented, who was trailing behind as you pulled the bike outside of the garage earlier today.

"Yep."

"So this op is basically like a date then."

You gave him a confused look. "What are you talking about? I'm going by myself."

"Oh, did we forget to tell you? Adler's going to tag along."

He had a smug face as he told you this. Woods didn't even give out a laugh, just patting you on the back as if content with himself.

"Is this revenge for the five dollars?"

"Nah. But, since you mentioned it, sure, that too."

After bugging Woods for more details, it also turned out Sims had taken the Sudan and van in for maintenance on this very day, and won't be finished for a few hours. You were starting to think some ploy was at hand, and either they were all in on it, or everything just conveniently occurred.

Fast forward about an hour later, Adler's arms were now wrapped around your lower torso as his chest pressed against your arched back. He was wearing the leather jacket you gave back to him with a long sleeve black turtleneck underneath.

He was a bit too close for someone hitching a ride, but you didn't object. His presence kept you warm while you drove on the cold streets of West Berlin. Having someone hug you after God knows how long felt… reassuring, bringing on the feeling of being coveted with a veil of comfort and longing. It took everything to not just pull over and take a moment to wallow in the feeling.

You seize the bike to a stop at a red light, planting a foot onto the pavement. A car comes to a rolling stop next to you, peering at the both of you briefly before playing with the dials of the radio.

"The hotel's going to be on the next left," Adler informs you through his helmet.

"You don't think I know that?"

"Then what's that sticking out of your back pocket?"

"...A map." You could hear him hold back a snicker, and you roll your eyes. "What? As if you never got lost before."

"Me? Never."

The light turns green. You pull your foot back on the hold, and drive off before the car next to you could think about merging to your lane.

As of late, it feels like Adler has been a bit more light-hearted and expressive whenever you both happened to be together. It was hard to tell at first, but it was the inflection in his voice and the barely noticeable curl of the corners of his mouth that gave it away whenever he talked to you specifically. Does he notice similar things about you?

Focusing on the mission, it was a bit spotty. There wasn't much content in the folder Adler was provided. No photo, no name, just the transcript, as well as the meeting place, where you were instructed to look for a man with a white dress shirt and blue-yellow striped tie sitting in front of three ashtrays. The plan was to drop Adler off at a hotel that stood across from the bar you were meeting the asset at, where he would keep watch and provide any needed reinforcements while you had to go in alone.

You pull up to the front of a moderately styled building, parking the motorcycle in an appropriate place. The area was pretty mellow, as it wasn’t very populated.

Taking the keys out, they jingled as you handed it to Adler. "Don't lose it. That's one whole paycheck right there."

"Are you sure you're going to be okay?" he asks, taking off his helmet. He gives his head a little shake to let the hair loosen up before reaching into his jacket and putting his shades back on, even though it was night.

You nod. "I'm just meeting someone. It'll be just like last time, except I won't be sneaking into an apartment." His perpetual look didn't cease at your assurance. "Why, what's wrong?"

"No, it's probably nothing. Just keep your comms on. I'll be your second set of ears."

"If you say so."

Pulling on a beanie, you made sure it covered your ears to hide the earpiece. Adler secures his own, giving you a good luck nod before heading into the hotel. "See you in an hour."

The weather seemed to be in a good mood today, the rain that you associated Berlin with now gone, leaving behind grey streaks of clouds in the night sky. Neon lights protruded through the glass windows, and you could hear the muffled music seeping through the walls as you made your way closer (it would serve as a way to deafen the conversation). The bar was slightly crowded upon entering. Nothing seemed out of place.

It was a simple task: meet up with the guy, learn what he has to say/give, then leave. If everything was done right, there should be no trouble.

You made your way further in, taking small peeks at each table, looking for a row of ash trays. As easy and boring as it sounded, you felt a bit on edge. Even the most simplistic things can be the cause for most problematic issues. Why did Adler sound bothered?

Continuing deeper inside, there was a man sitting towards the middle of the bar at a rounded table pushed against the wall. He was wearing the white shirt as promised and the ugly striped tie. With gelled back dirty blonde hair, you estimate him to be around his early forties. Three ashtrays made from glass sat in front of him, only one in use.

"Bell," you hear Adler, "Did you find them?"

"Yeah."

"Keep a low profile. The room they gave me doesn't give me a clear view of the bar."

You slip into the seat across from the informant. It only took one glance at you for him to break into a wide, welcoming grin.

"It's nice to finally meet you, friend," he greets enthusiastically. "Come have a drink."

Judging from his voice, he already took a few drinks himself. He slides one of his glasses towards you, and you stop it with one hand. Picking the glass up from the rim, you swirl the brownish liquid around, trying to see if there were any strange particles floating at the bottom.

"You have information, yes?" you start.

"Yes, yes of course! But first, introductions."

That's right, you didn't even know this man's name.

"Aleks Ander," you make up on a whim.

It was probably the stupidest undercover name to use. Yet, it seemed to fool the asset in front of you. He seemed like a nice person, perhaps a bit naive.

“Mefodiy Nikitin.”

"Ah. Nice you meet you, Mister Nikitin."

It was a peculiar name, yet there was something awfully familiar about it. And now, having a face to associate with it, the feeling of hostility rose. You knew him from somewhere.

Adler seemed to be on the same wavelength, as you could hear him repeat the name under his breath.

Contradictingly, you still bring the glass up to your lips, tipping it slightly and letting the liquid move. A weird, almond taste filled your mouth the moment it touched your tongue. Alarms started to go off in your head, and following your instinct, you spit it back out in a discreet manner. You survey the table for a glass of water, but only find hard liquor.

Eying Nikitin warily, you put the glass back down and clear your throat. The taste still lingered in your mouth. You haven't drank alcohol for a while. Maybe modern tastes are accustomed to strange flavors.

Something like this would be reason to abort, but you still stayed in place. The mission was to find out what he knew, and you couldn't leave empty handed. Even if the source wasn't immaculate, you needed at least something. "I came here to learn what information you want to share. We do not have all day, my friend."

"Of course. What do you want to know?"

"You tell me.”

He sure liked to beat around the bush, you note. It wasn’t like the Greta Keller mission. At least she was cooperative, even after you both got captured. Nikitin, on the other hand… You could already feel a headache coming on.

Although, you got a good grasp of his character. You expected the guy to be timid in nature, perhaps a bit like Lukas Richter to an extent, but Niktin was the opposite. He seemed like a guy of luxury, who probably likes to dwell in fantasies of being in control. People like him craved for power, trying to scope out the competition, but will avoid everything to get his hands dirty. Spending money to feel himself better, flaunting his richness. A tricky man, if you will.

People like him got on your nerves.

“Well,” he begins. “To start off, how well do you know Perseus?”

"...How the hell does this guy know about Perseus?" Adler voices.

Perseus should have been insider knowledge. Only the top brass knows about the group, so how does Nikitin know of it? Your finger twitched at how easily the name fell off of his tongue, masked in such casualty for someone who's supposed to be a KGB double agent.

"Right," you reply coyly. It was going to be difficult to extract any info from him since you couldn't disclose anything pertaining to the matter, so you had to play your cards carefully. "We haven't heard of anything as of late. I'm hoping your info can help move our investigation efforts forward. Working in the KGB must yield some information, right?"

"Like names of sleeper agents?" Nikitin alludes.

You raise a brow, thinking momentarily back to Lubyanka. "If that's what you have to offer."

He chuckles, fanning a hand in the air as if to relieve the tension. "I'm joking! But yes, I do have something." The agent brings out a floppy disk, setting it down on the table. It was black with scrawled handwriting in blue ink on the paper label. "This should be useful for you."

You reach out to grab it, but Nikitin draws his arm back.

“Is there a problem?” you ask, trying to conceal your increasing irritation.

“I could just hand it over, but a fair exchange would be appropriate for this kind of information, don’t you think?”

“Alright, what do you want?”

Nikitin muses over it, scratching his chin. After a short period passes, his face lightens up, finally coming to a conclusion.

"Russell Adler."

"I'm...sorry?"

His name didn't even register the moment you heard it. Nikitin held a smirk, content with his answer and your reaction. You pull your arm away from his end, sneaking it underneath your jacket while pretending to take another sip of the drink. Your nose wrinkled at the smell of liquor.

"To elaborate, you need to take care of him. After all, he was your assignment when you were with Perseus."

“What's he mean by that?” you could hear Adler growl.

"I don't know what you're talking about," you insist. "But, for you to know of Perseus… Who are you, really?"

The trail to Perseus has been cold as of late, pretty much leaving the CIA to pick up breadcrumbs of intel that was left behind. Your memory was shoddy and complicated, so Nikitin would be one of the biggest leads yet, but this attempt at bargaining information was beyond reasonable. You were going to have to talk to Hudson and Belikov about their selection of assets.

"I already told you who I am," Nikitin responds. "Well, you may not know me personally, but, I did hear lots of great things about you. You made quite a name for yourself in Perseus, Lieutenant Colonel [L/N]."

Your blood ran cold. No one had addressed you by that title for so long.

Then it dawned on you.

East Berlin.

The intel Mason found. Mefodiy Nikitin. His name was one of the ones mentioned there. The man in front of you was a Perseus member?

"But, I heard you go by 'Bell' now."

"The old man must be running out of options if they're recruiting people like you.” You couldn't help but chuckle at him, looking at the pathetic face he made in an attempt at intimidation. He truly was naïve. “I'm actually starting to feel a bit sorry for you all. I switch sides and you're all already beginning to fumble."

"How the general even put up with your bullshit is beyond my understanding," Nikitin belittles in return, balling his fist at the humility. "He's too trustworthy of you. Even after what the Americans did to you, he still has some faith that you'll come crawling back to him. Hell, I even went through all this effort to meet you.”

“You set this up?”

“With some false promises and a case full of cash, what kind of CIA agent wouldn’t jump on the opportunity?”

"The ones who are no longer alive."

The network you've all been working hard to dismantle was already rebuilding itself. Your mind races back to Nikitin's earlier words, anxiety beginning to pave its way in. The conversation should have been cut off as soon as he refused to give you the disk, but there was something about the way he spoke that drew your attention. He knew something you didn't. "Is this your way of blackmail? What the hell do you have to offer that I don't know about?"

"Ah, I got your interest now didn't I?" Nikitin clasps his hands together and rubs them as if he were about to partake in a feast, a sick feeling washing over you. He was enjoying this little game of cat and mouse, just holding onto the intel like bait. "Perfect! Let's get to business then."

"Bell! Forget him, just grab the—"

Adler's voice is cut off as the sound of silenced gunfire occurred right behind you. The civilians around you gave out yelps of shock, before they slumped over, as if they had lost all control of their muscles. Glasses shattered as they fell onto the floor, the translucent shards mixing in with the dark colors of the alcoholic drinks it once harbored.

Twisting around, you see two men standing amidst the bodies, guns in their hands.

You whipped out your pistol within the blink of an eye, just as Nikitin's men redirected their aim at your direction.

"To think the asset I had to meet up with is nothing more than a puny attempt of manipulation from a man who doesn't know how to control his ego," you fumed.

Your instincts were going off, screaming at you to run, but being held at gunpoint didn't exactly give you the advantage you need. You should have listened to your gut feeling. The resentment that had coiled within the depths of your stomach was beginning to unravel as you feel a rush of adrenaline coming forth. Looking down the sights, the shot was perfectly lined up within the space between Nikitin's eyes.

"But, to have gotten this far, I must be doing something right," he comments.

The civilians.

Your finger twitched, hovering just mere millimeters from finishing the job. The impulse to kill him was getting difficult to fight off. You were going to do it.

But just as you were about to rest your finger on the trigger, something warm ran over your lips and off of your chin. It gave off a dark sheen as it plattered onto the table, a couple more droplets following suit. What the fuck?

You wipe your nose with the back of your hand, and your eyes widen, seeing a red streak painted across. A nosebleed?

"Is it taking effect?" Nikitin inquires with disgusting amusement.

You flick your hand. "What the fuck did you give me?"

"I didn't know how much to add, but assuming from your reaction, it's pretty strong. Apparently even a small intake can do lots to the consumer."

You could feel yourself getting lightheaded and drowsy, but consider yourself lucky enough to be let off without much other effects of whatever strange drug he spiked your drink with. The nutty taste never left your palate.

"I've heard you to be cunning and ruthless, but look at you now," Nikitin mocks. "Accepting drinks from a stranger. How American."

"You—"

"Bell!"

Nikitin’s gaze redirects to something behind you, the entry door being kicked open, as well as the surprised yelps of the two agents. As a result, you feel something pierce your right shoulder, and you grind your molars to stifle the howl that almost escaped as you recoiled back a few steps. It hurt like a bitch, but you had to tolerate it.

Turning around, you see Adler barge through the entrance, taking down Nikitin's men with ease. His shots strike them right at the chest, their bodies collapsing over the wooden tables and knocking everything off of it.

“Ah, so this is the infamous Russell Adler," Nikitin muses loudly. "To think the man you were assigned to kill is now your best friend. You were such great buddies with Naga as well, I wonder what he'll—”

"Shut. Up."

You shoot him in the shoulder in revenge, earning an excruciating yelp from him. Nikitin's hand flies to cover his wound, and yet he guffaws, a sadistic smile spreading across his face.

“You really lost it now! I-It's a bit disheartening to see you were never able to complete the task. But, then again, I guess Kuzmin will be ecstatic to hear that." Nikitin shifts his attention to Adler. "He does have a vendetta against you after all."

Kuzmin? Adler?

"...What is he talking about, Bell?" Adler joins in, rushing to your side after checking on one of the civilians. Oddly enough, there were no open wounds on any of the innocents, just one round of tranquilizer darts in each of them. Nikitin really didn't want a mess to clean up.

"How the hell am I supposed to know?"

The information was overbearing— too much happened within the short span of the past hour. Everything went deeper than you had surmised. Just trying to wrap your head around everything made your headache worse. The name Kuzmin and Naga was constantly recurring in your mind, and you swore Perseus himself had even said these aliases a couple times.

Shit.

You didn't want a repeat of that morning.

Shoving the barrel into Nikitin's forehead, you yell, "Who the hell is Kuzmin?!"

"V-Vikhor Kuzmin, of course!"

Adler turns to you now, you could feel his scrutinizing gaze poking at you behind those shades. "You know Stitch?" he asks. You could detect remains of hatred and detest as he said the name.

Nikitin laughs. "Of course they do! They were colleagues—"

“Enough!” you interject. “I'm tired of your shit. This is going nowhere."

Adler picks up the floppy disk, eyes darting between the label and you. "Bell, is there something you haven't told us?"

"I already told you everything I know, didn't I?" you insist irritably, but it was a feasible attempt. The confidence you had earlier was draining.

"Well, after hearing what he had to say, there's clearly something else."

"What is this, an interrogation? I don't know—" You give out a frustrated groan, feeling the migraine persist. "Fuck, I can't think—"

"This would be the perfect opportunity to kill Adler, [L/N]!" the Perseus member interjects provokingly. "Redeem yourself! At least Perseus never brainwashed you—"

You shoot him in the thigh, and he lets out a yowl.

"Do you ever shut up?!" you seethed. "For a Perseus member you sure like to run your fucking mouth. Is that how the general planned to rope me back into his stupid scheme? By pissing me off?"

"That's enough, Bell!" Adler warns. As much as he wanted to shut the guy up, he was the only other person associated with Perseus that the CIA managed to get close to. "If you're telling the truth, then I want this guy. Alive."

He could tell you were about to snap from your dark expression. He puts a hand on your arm, guiding it downward and away from Nikitin with the gentle touch of his gloved hands. "Enough."

Calm down.

You needed to stop letting him get under your skin. But with that damn cocky, arrogant grin of his, you just wanted to knock his teeth in. He kept going on and on about this Kuzmin character and killing Adler, and your inability to make sense of what he was referring to only added onto the aggravation.

Don't trust Adler.

“Yes! That look!" Nikitin exclaims upon noticing your conflict. "Do it. Shoot me. It’s what you do best, isn’t it [L/N]?”

"Volkov said the same thing," you growl. "You're one of his rats?"

"So you do remember. One could only imagine my surprise when I discovered that you sent him off to the M16." He cackles. "Though, I guess hearing what happened to your British friend back in Cuba, it’s a fair trade, don’t you think?”

"Ignore him." Adler stuffs his gun behind, taking it upon himself to restrain Nikitin, who winced at each subtle movement. Holding him under the arm, Adler hauls him up to his feet begrudgingly.

Hearing no response, he turns his attention to you. “Bell?”

Your gun goes off, a single bullet shell clattering at your feet while white wisps of smoke trail out the barrel. Nikitin’s body slips away from Adler’s grip, landing on the floor with a heavy thud.

You stuffed your firearm back in its place. That was one less person to worry about.

“What the fuck Bell?” Adler seizes your wrists. “I wanted him alive!”

“My bike didn’t have enough space anyway.”

“The bike? This isn’t about your fucking bike! He was a Perseus member, for crying out loud! Do you know how much we could have—”

“You said you wanted Nikitin alive if I was telling the truth.” You bend down, searching Nikitin’s pockets for anything beneficial. In the end you take his watch, knowing that a lot of agents within the rogue organization held items with secret compartments for their leisure. “I'm just making it easier for both of us. Just give me another of your stupid injections. That'll balance things out, wouldn't it?"

"Are you out of your fucking mind?"

"Seeing how things just played out, I might just be," you articulate. "And stop yelling, my head's about to burst."

"I'm NOT—" He catches himself, bringing his voice down to a good level. "You can't just go and kill someone because they got under your skin, Bell."

"As if you haven’t done so on occasion. I was just doing us a favor." Shuffling through the pockets, you find a phial with an unrecognizable substance. You push against your knees and straighten, stuffing it and the watch into your jeans. "Bastard tried to drug me, and dishonored Park? I should have killed him the moment your name escaped his mouth."

Adler won't admit it, but he found himself a bit tense and astonished at your own brutal nature that somehow slipped through the cracks. It was the twitch of your eye and the tense grip of the handle that gave away your resistance against the urge to kill the Perseus spy, but in the end you caved in. Was that the type of person you were when working with Perseus?

Though, he noted, there were always signs of that hidden, disturbing trait of yours. Adler bared first-hand witness to your surprise attacks on unsuspecting individuals, and the "creative" ways you would finish them off.

No wonder Perseus continued to pursue you. He trained a loyal soldier. But, Adler knew that there was more to you than just a Soviet-made killer.

"Fuck it," he hisses. "Let's get out before the cops come."

"What about the civis?"

"Leave them, they're tranquilized. Give them an hour or two to wake up."

0000

During the ride back to the safe house, there was that feeling of disconnection, both between your own feelings, and with Adler.

It was silent on the way back, and you had to stuff the earbuds in your ear just to avert your attention from what you had just done. The decision to kill Nikitin came easy, but it was the fact that you did it because of his provocation is what startled you the most.

You couldn't think properly, and whatever was in your drink still coursed through your system, despite taking that tiny amount. Adler's growing concerns weren't heard as you put the bike into full throttle, speeding through traffic lights and empty roads.

The comfort of Adler's arms around your waist lost it's magic, and it felt a bit suffocating. Whatever Nikitin implied, of you having a duty to kill Adler, still persisted in your mind, and you couldn't bear to look at him with that guilty conscience.

So with your only lead gone, that left the floppy disk, and you. It would take a couple hours to decrypt everything, but you had a feeling that it would only provide the bare minimum of evidence, so that leaves you and your memory.

And there was one way to trigger it.

The moment you both arrive at the hideout, you immediately head to the bathroom. Woods attempted to ask how it went, but you pushed past him. That left Adler to answer the questions.

"What's up with Bell?" he asked. "You didn't do anything, did you? Because, if you did—"

"Bell killed the asset."

Woods raised an eyebrow in interest. "Damn, what'd they do to piss them off?"

Adler didn't find it funny. "Talk."

"Must be within good reason then?"

"That's what I'm trying to find out."

Slamming the door closed, you lock it and lean against the door. Exhaustion began to overwhelm your body as the adrenaline died out, and your shoulder felt like it was being held on top of an open flame.

Looking at it, you could feel the bullet wedged in there. It wasn't too deep, but was a good hit. Peeling the top of your clothes away, you sucked in air as you carefully removed the fabric from the area. The sight wasn’t pleasant, and the air stung at the raw flesh.

You pull one of the drawers open, retrieving a fresh cloth and ran it under the faucet. Taking a seat on the counter, you carefully wiped down the surrounding area, grimacing as the fibers brushed against your skin. Medical attention wasn’t your specialty, since there was always someone else to do the work.

“Bell?” Adler’s voice came from the other side of the door, causing you to stiffen. “Are you going to hide like a coward, or am I going to have to fucking force the door open?”

Well, he’s pissed. You didn’t blame him though.

“Can’t I get some privacy around here?” you hiss, trying to cover up your nerves.

“Seeing how you just murdered someone right in front of me after disobeying my order, I think that should be the least of your concerns. Now open the damn door.”

Sighing exasperatedly, you quickly cover yourself up and set the cloth down. There really was no way to avoid the guy. Just how the hell were you going to explain everything? You, yourself, couldn’t even fully comprehend everything, leaving it up to speculation and theories that your shrewd up mind came up with.

You flush the toilet before opening the door, hoping to throw Adler off your trail for a bit. “I’m kind of busy at the moment.”

“The hell you are. Get out. We need to talk.”

"You're really going to interrogate me in front of a toilet?" you reply snarkily.

He ignores the comment. "We're not finished yet."

Adler grabs your wrist, only to realize that you were shaking. You refused to look him in the eye, biting the insides of your cheek in shame.

The metallic smell was starting to bother him, and his eyes did a quick scan, and noticed that there was a hole in your jacket. Startled, Adler tugs at the zipper and opens it, pulling the edges back only to reveal the red seeping through your clothes underneath.

"You're hurt."

"You realize that now?"

“Un-fucking-believable.”

Adler ushers you back into the bathroom, gesturing you to hop back onto the counter. You oblige, waiting as he takes out a kit and a new rag from underneath the sink. He unpacks everything, taking out a thin needle and some thread while setting a couple of pads and tape to the side.

“You better tell me what happened at the bar,” Adler says, pulling the thread through the eye of the needle. “Or I’m never sending you on another mission again.”

"I got shot."

"No shit."

“I told you what you wanted to hear, didn't I?” you chided. It was uncharacteristic of him. He never really batted an eye in your direction when it came to previous wounds, yet today he was more considerate. "Why're you getting so worked up about it?"

Adler wrings the cloth out in the sink. “Gee, I don't know [L/N]. Maybe it's because our only lead is gone, and now you try to hide the fact that there's a bullet in your damn shoulder?”

"It's nothing."

"Last time someone said that, it got infected. You don't wanna know what happened afterwards." He brings the towel up to your shoulder. "Take off your shirt."

"What is this, a strip search?"

"My god, just fucking— Your damn shoulder Bell, just show it."

You shrugged off your jacket, undoing the first three buttons to your dress shirt, and pull your arm out of the sleeve, exposing the rightmost side of your body. "There, happy?"

Adler's eyes notice the two scars on your chest that barely peeked out from underneath the fabric. He brings the cloth to the shoulder in an attempt to not get distracted, but his sight wanders back to it.

The tissue was discolored and discernable from your actual skin complexion. They were both close in proximity, just right above your sternum. He already saw one of them— the bullet they extracted from your chest was used as evidence of the illegal gun cargo at Trabzon Airport. But, the other scar…

"Are you going to just stare at your mistake and let me bleed out, or are we going to get this over with?"

You break his line of thought, and Adler disinfects the tweezers, before proceeding to pull out the single round in your shoulder.

Right. He was supposed to be mad at you.

“I can't even take my eyes off of you for one second, can I?" he grumbles, shifting his mood appropriately. You shuffle a bit as you feel Adler pull the lump out. "Stop fucking moving, Bell, it might sink in more.”

You turn towards him. “You met this Vikhor Kuzmin, haven't you?”

Adler ceases all movement at the mention of the name. Behind his glasses, you could see him lost in thought for a brief moment, before continuing to work on your shoulder.

He places the bullet down on the bloodstained rag beside him, before taking the needle. “I’m not going to talk until you tell me what happened,” he responds brusquely with a bit of malice.

You trail off, leaning your head against the wall behind you.

Vikhor Kuzmin, meeting Adler… All the pieces started to link up with one another, the puzzle slowly becoming more finished each move. Whatever Perseus was planning, you played a part in it, and knowing that his grasp on you was still strong made you reluctant to even return to the safehouse, not knowing what'll happen to you.

But you needed to confirm it. If your memory was correct, then the CIA could use it to their advantage. You hated being used, but you didn't want Perseus to win. The only thing in your way was your psychological roadblock that prevented you from remembering.

"Before I tell you," you bargain. "I want you to do something for me."

He finishes stitching your wound closed, placing a pad above it before wrapping bandages around, bringing over the shoulder and under your arms.

"You're in no position to barter with me."

"I'm your only connection to Perseus, so we both know damn well that an injection is in order."

Adler straightens up, eyes narrowed. "What the fuck are you talking about—"

"From back then. The MKUltra shit. I need it."

The psychoactive drugs. That's the solution you came to?

"You're not thinking straight."

He begins to put everything back into the box, and you sit up and grab him by the collar and pull him close. Adler could see the desperation written all over your face as you gave out shaky breaths. But, he wasn't swayed.

"Adler—"

"You just got drugged with an unknown substance, and now you're claiming that running you through the procedure will somehow recover your memories. I’m not going to give you an injection over something so trivial.”

"Trivial? This isn’t fucking trivial! How can being sent as a hitman and setting off Nova Six be trivial?!"

Adler shakes his head. Your requests were beyond reasonable now, and you were coming up with some Hollywood spy flick plot with hitmen and Nova Six. Maybe you were hallucinating.

"I'm not going to give you the injection Bell. It's too damn risky. The trigger phase was meant to recall memories of Vietnam, not anything else."

Following that conversation you both had the morning after East Berlin, he swore to never touch upon the topic of MKUltra, or anything directly correlated to it. Not again.

"Why not?! You didn’t hesitate to fucking poke a needle in my eye last time. So, what’s different about now?”

He pries your hand off of his collar. “You know why.”

"Don't you dare bring personal feelings into this," you beseech, "Especially when millions of lives are at stake."

"You're not the one administering the fucking thing Bell. You don't have the authority to decide—"

"Whoever this Vikhor Kuzmin is, they're with Perseus," you argue. "They're planning something. I know it's risky, but if you would just run me through the scenarios one more time, I'll find out what it is."

"Bullshit. Kuzmin is in prison."

"He's not! Why can't you just listen to me?!"

At this point, trying to convince Adler was like talking to a brick wall. As much as you despised the medbay, you were about to walk in there yourself and poke it in your damn eye if it meant figuring out everything Nikitin told you.

You and Adler glared at each other, and your little show started drawing the attention of others just down the hall.

Taking a deep breath, you lower your voice so only he could hear. "Nikitin said that I knew Kuzmin. I-I don't know how important this guy is, but if I worked with him, then there's still some unfinished business. I don't care what you think, but there's no fucking way I'm letting this slip past, especially if I already know the answer. Nikitin's should have been our lead, but I fucked up, okay?"

"[L/N]—"

You cut him off. "Just let me do this for you. For the team."

There was a pleading look in your eye, and Adler could feel your craving of answers about your past. Getting left in the dark for so long must have taken a toll on you, and he couldn't even begin to fathom to imagine how it must feel to live life with a large chunk of your memories being locked off behind a door that could never be reached. There was nothing in the archives nor any of the foreign databases of your birth records or identity, other than the one he had made for you. Your life was so shrouded in mystery, it sometimes even felt like you were just a by-product of the CIA. And he just so happened to be one of the reasons why you were like this.

Adler presses his lips in a thin line, before cracking open the door and entering the back part of the safehouse, with you following closely.

"Lazar," he announces, "Meet us in the medbay."

The aforementioned male perks up at his name, placing down the newspaper in his hand. "Why, what's happening?"

"Our back up plan."

"You don't mean…"

"We're doing it."

Lazar shoots you a look of concern, remembering the seizures that you had last time. "No."

"Well, we don't have a choice," Adler dejects. "The asset's dead thanks to Bell."

"Hey!" you chime in. "It was fully well—"

"Enough. We talked over this already. Don't make me change my mind."

Mason and Woods played witness to the events that occurred in front of them, but didn't partake in the conversation. They've only heard rumors and a half-assed retelling of what happened in the medbay back in 1981, so they could only infer what you three were talking about.

It didn't stop them from prying, though, Mason immediately getting up from his spot. "What's going on?"

"It's none of your concern, Mason," Adler states sternly, pushing open the door to the room.

Mason, unsatisfied, grabs the handle and pulls it closed within a flash. "I think it is," he replies coldly. "What the hell are you planning to do to Bell?"

"Let go of the damn door."

"Not until you tell us what's happening."

"Mason," you join in a weary voice. "It's fine. We're just going to go over some things. It should give us a better angle on Perseus."

He tries to read into it, but the only thing he saw was a person who's been through too much shit in their lifetime, clothes speckled in red spots and the innocent light long gone from their eyes. Yet there was that newfound determination behind it all, and he knew there was no use trying to argue.

"As much as we have in common," Mason indulges, letting go. "I'll never understand why you go this far."

You grin weakly. "So no one else has to do the dirty work."

Your hands were far from clean. Compared to everyone else, you were sure you hit high on the list when it came to war crimes. Hell, your own existence became one. Even on the CIA database you're listed as MIA and under the watchlist, and the only ones that knew the truth was the team.

Lazar closes the blinds to the rooms, granting you three a bit of privacy. Adler gives him a brief rundown on what you told him, and you were met with disagreement once again.

“You don’t need to do this Bell.”

“Your right. I have to," you elaborate. "We're running out of options here.”

"There's the floppy disk."

"I'll get to it after. The more the merrier is the saying, right?"

Lazar wasn't looking forward to this, but if what you knew was that important, to a point where you pleaded to be put under this serum, then they definitely needed to find out. The CIA's been chasing around Perseus for god knows how long, and you're a key part to taking him down.

"Are you sure?"

"Stop asking, or else I might start getting second thoughts."

The plan was superficial, with the highest possibility of going to tits down (or up, as Sims put it). If you were going to subject yourself to one of the most mentally draining interrogations you had, then you might as well get the full authentic experience.

You adjust the light that hung above accordingly, making the position similar to before. Lying down on the gurney, it felt like you were about to go into a mental asylum. You had to convince Lazar to wrap the leather cuffs around. "Come on, you don't want me falling off and hitting my head, do you?"

"I would honestly prefer you to hit your head and pass out than to go through all this shit again."

"Thanks for the pep talk."

As you both verbally loosen up, Adler shifts through the shelves, pushing aside boxes to reveal that old black duffel bag. He unzips it, and sees the god-forsaken phial with the sickening yellow liquid just sitting at the bottom, just right above the old booklet. Bringing them out, he passes the manual to Lazar, before he himself rips open a new syringe from its package and disinfects it.

Adler turns around once he's done, feeling a bit of remorse as he sees your weakened figure. "Your arm."

"No. Intracerebral. Like last time."

"Don't be ridiculous. You know how dangerous that was?"

"Fucking do it," you growl, before resting your head back down.

"You're insane, you know that?"

"All part of the package."

He flicks the needle, testing it. "Are you ready?"

You nod as he positions it right above your eye while holding your chin to keep your head still. Staring right down at the needle, your stomach churned, knowing what's going to happen next.

Damn, through the eye socket?

Clenching your jaw, you brace yourself. "Hit me."

Without any countdown, Adler plunges it into your eye. You writhed in pain, nails digging into your already stained hands. Your legs shuffled in an attempt to instinctively move away from the needle, but with the cuffs around your wrists, you were going nowhere.

"Fuck!"

"Don't squint Bell, it's only going to make it worse," you hear Lazar advise.

Adler takes the needle out, trying to keep a level head. He didn't want to do this, but trying to reason and extract any information from you without it would be more tedious and cumbersome. Plus, how could he ignore that pleading look in your eye? It was like a whining puppy begging to try chocolate. But of course, chocolate is deadly to dogs.

He didn't want to verbally agree with you, but if you had anything relating to Perseus still hidden within the depths of your mind, and if it had the chance of pushing the investigation forward, then so be it.

Adler watches as your movements begin to ease, your pupils expanding as the dosage begins to take effect. Your tense expression loosens up as you plant your head back down, eyes glued to a random spot of the ceiling with drooping eyelids.

He and Lazar share a look of uncertainty.

Adler resists the unexpected compulsion to reach out and grasp your hand. This was something you had to do on your own, and he was just there to make it happen. He just prayed that everything went better this time around.

He takes a deep breath, before uttering the words he too has come to despise.

"We've got a job to do."

#russell adler x reader #adler x reader #russell adler x bell #cod black ops cold war #black ops cold war #call of duty #call of duty x reader #bo:cw #text #fanfic #bell #russell adler #abcd briefing #call of duty imagine #sorry this took a while had to rewrite it #:)))) suffer

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mischiefandspirits · 3 years

Text

Last Laugh (2 of 3)

“Oh, I noticed,” Red X said lowly, tossing the staff aside. “What that idiot was thinking letting Flamebird send you all the way across the country right after Batkid got blown up, I’ll never know.”

Robin flinched back at the accusation before his fists clenched at his sides. “Then you’ll be happy to know no one sent me here. It’s just where I ended up when Batman decided he didn’t want to work with me anymore and tossed me out.”

The story of how Dick ended up with the Titans in Batkid and Robin.

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

Jason once told Dick that he spent months after he’d come to the manor worrying he’d be dumped back onto the streets at any minute. As a result, he’d kept go-bags hidden around, ready to go at a moment’s notice in hopes that he’d have time to grab one before he was sent away. They each had water bottles and food stolen from the kitchen, bandages from the infirmary, a backup set of clothes, a good blanket, a knife, and some cash he’d save whenever Bruce would give him any.

The others had known about them, of course, but hadn’t said anything. Jason had only known because Bruce would sneak some extra cash into them and Selina would slip in things that could be useful on the streets that he hadn’t considered while Alfred had checked them every so often to refresh the food and make sure he wasn’t filling them with junk food.

Once he’d gotten more comfortable, he’d started giving them up. By the time Bruce had disappeared, all the bags Jason had hidden had been unpacked. He never let go of his need to be prepared, though. So in place of the bags, he had four briefcases. Bulletproof, fireproof, blast-proof, and with encrypted locks, they were filled with paperwork for Jason to use in case he ever needed to go on the run. Each had everything necessary for a fake identity, including corresponding bank account information. All were created outside the family’s influence just in case the reason he needed to lie low was mind control.

Dick had never seen what was inside the first two, didn’t even know where Jason had stashed them, but he knew the third had a file for Casey Jacob Dickinson. Only because the fourth held the file for Casey’s half-brother Ryan Emil Dickinson.

The latter is the one Dick took when he snuck into Jason’s room and pried up the loose floorboard hidden under the dresser in the closet. It was their special secret, something only they shared. Something Jason had trusted Dick and only Dick with.

“Thanks, Jay,” he said, replacing the floorboard. He pushed the dresser back into place then moved to leave, but paused when he spotted the brown jacket hanging by the door.

Dick had gotten it for Jason to match his own red Batkid hoodie. He’d accidentally gotten it in a larger size than Jason usually liked to wear, but that hadn’t stopped his brother from wearing it every time the two of them hung out with just each other.

Running his thumb over the red robin patch on the shoulder, Dick stared at the jacket for a moment before pulling it off the hanger.

They wouldn’t miss it. No one had been in the room in over a month.

Case in hand and jacket slung over his shoulder, he snuck back to his room. He opened the case and pulled out the file. He slipped the ID and debit card into his wallet before putting the file into the lockbox. He carefully folded the jacket and set it into the case along with the small photo album Selina had helped him put together. It held pictures of everyone in the family, including the photo Tim had given him of himself, his parents, Damian, Jon, Duke, Tim, Steph, Jason, Babs, and Cass from that night.

It was the only picture he had of his parents, thanks to the people who ran Gotham Juvenile Detention losing almost everything he’d taken with him from the circus. He had another copy on his nightstand back at the house he, Damian, and Jon shared -- had shared -- in Somerset. The family he’d lost side by side with the family he’d gained. It made him sad every time he saw it, but it was still his favorite.

Except now they were both families he’d lost.

At least if Bruce gets his way.

Dick slammed the case closed and stuck it into the duffle bag next to the lockbox. He locked the box then piled in the clothes he’d already gathered. He tossed his wallet into the bag then zipped it up and shoved it back under the bed.

One last thing to do.

He was halfway to the closest cave entrance when he bumped into Bruce and Selina.

“Hey there, songbird,” Selina greeted.

“Hey.”

“Dinner’s almost ready,” Bruce said and reached out to ruffle his hair.

Dick stepped away before he could, then walked past them. “Not hungry.”

“He heard the news, then?”

“Hm.”

“I’ll talk to him.”

“I will. I’m the one he’s mad at.”

Dick stomped into the library, ignoring his tail.

“Dick, let’s talk.”

“I don’t want to talk to you.”

“I know you’re upset, but -”

“Then leave me alone.”

“Please just let m-”

“I get it,” Dick snapped, spinning to face the man. “You got what you wanted. You didn’t want Damian to -” To foster him, to bring him into Bruce’s home, to try and make a place for him in the family. He’d heard enough snippets of the arguments Damian and Bruce had had when Bruce came back. He’d always thought Bruce thought Damian was the problem, that he didn’t trust Damian with Dick and planned to take Dick in himself. He’d also thought Bruce had finally accepted that Damian was keeping Dick. Had he been wrong on both counts?

Or had Dick’s actions ruined everything?

“Why couldn’t you just leave us alone?”

“Dick,” Bruce sighed. He knelt in front of Dick and set his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “I just want what’s best for you.”

“Anything to get what you want,” Dick snorted and pushed the hand off so he could turn away before Bruce could see his tears.

“Dick, wait.”

A hand caught his wrist and Dick…

He was losing his family again. Jason was dead. Bruce had taken Robin. Damian was sending him back. His only hope was that the others would fight for him, but would they?

If they didn’t, he’d be alone.

Again.

And it would be his fault this time.

But it would also be because…

Dick spun around and hit Bruce right in the jaw.

Then he ran.

Tim and Jason had both long outgrown the small vent hidden above a tall bookshelf in the far corner of the library and Dick had never needed to use it, but it still swung easily on the hinges the second Batkid had installed after discovering the hidden nook.

He climbed through and let the vent swing silently shut behind him. He crawled down the shaft until he reached a similar vent. He dropped down into a thin, dusty hallway. Down the hall, around a corner, then down another hall was a small door halfway up the wall. A makeshift ladder led up to it and a hidden lever opened it, revealing Bruce’s study.

Dick dropped out of the hidden passage, letting the door swing shut behind him to meld unnoticeably with the rest of the wall. He twisted the hands of the grandfather clock on the opposite wall and disappeared down into the cave, heading for the vehicle bay.

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

Dick left while the others were all patrolling and Alfred was taking a break. He used a bike that he’d removed the tracker from and kept all his devices off. He went to a hotel in the Bowery that he knew was shady enough to look the other way when a fourteen-year-old rented a room on his own, but not shady enough to take advantage of it.

He gave it a week, then two, before sneaking onto a roof in Coventry on a night he knew Oracle wouldn’t be working. He turned on the comm he’d brought and listened in. For the most part, everything was just the usual reporting in. However, things changed just before one.

“I’m moving in. Going dark,” Batman said.

“Got it, B-man,” Batgirl chirped. After a moment, in a more somber voice, she said, “So…”

Black Bat groaned and Orphan said, “No.”

“You don’t even know what I was going to ask!”

“We haven’t heard anything, and we’re not getting involved,” Black Bat said shortly.

“Not our place,” Orphan agreed.

“I know that! I was just wondering if Flamebird’s changed his mind,” Batgirl huffed.

“It’s for the best,” Orphan said after a moment.

“I get that,” Batgirl sighed. “I’m just going to miss the kid. I already miss him, and I know Oracle and Pup do too.”

“We all feel that way, but… I feel bad that he’s losing Robin, but he needs to get away from all this. After everything that’s happened… Flamebird’s right,” Black Bat said softly.

“Robin will be better off there, no matter how much we miss him,” Orphan insisted.

“Yeah, yeah. Have you guys gotten any leads on where he could -”

Dick didn’t hear the rest of Batgirl’s question as he yanked out the comm and smashed it on the ground.

He’d thought… He’d hoped…

But they agreed with Bruce. They agreed with sending him away. They weren’t going to talk Damian around.

Dick pressed his face into his knees and screamed.

He couldn’t stay in Gotham. The Bats would eventually find him, and now he knew that’d be a one-way ticket back to juvie.

He left the hotel in the morning.

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

Robin had been hesitant to stay with the others. There was no way the Bats hadn’t noticed his involvement in the invasion that had brought their team together. It was better for him to move on as soon as possible

He really hadn't wanted to, though.

They had been an amazing team and had quickly become friends. He also knew they would understand his past if he told them since Wonder Girl was an outcast among most Amazons as a result of her Brazilian heritage, Impulse was dealing with the fact her father was currently lost in the Speed Force, Virus was still trying to reconnect with his people now that he’s free from the Mawlix, and Nightstar had run away from home to get away from her absentee mother’s shadow.

That was the only reason he stayed as long as he had while they began to put together their base using the remains of Virus’s ship.

He was working up to telling the team he had to leave when he stumbled upon Impulse and Wonder Girl talking in the common area.

“It’s a shame, really,” Impulse sighed, clutching a magazine.

“Boohoo,” Wonder Girl snorted, not looking up from her book.

“I’m serious.”

“He’s one boy, and not even a worthwhile one from what I’ve seen.”

“Speedy said White Arrow and Silver Canary have met him, though, and he’s super sweet.” The speedster shoved the magazine towards her face. “Plus, just look at him!”

Wonder Girl shoved it away, rolling her eyes.

“What’s going on?” Robin asked hesitantly.

“Impulse is crying because some famous pretty boy is going away to boarding school.”

The speedster shot her a look then turned sad eyes on Robin. “It’s Richard Grayson!”

Ice shot down Robin’s spine. “What?”

“Yeah, the Waynes are shipping him off to some school overseas,” she said, waving the magazine towards him and he took it. “The family wouldn’t say where since they wanted…”

Robin fell back on his training to keep his face blank and his hands steady as he scanned through the article.

They knew where he was, and they were covering it up. They had come up with a grand lie about him going to school in England to explain his absence.

They weren’t coming for him.

“Poor guy,” he said, closing the magazine and handing it back.

“See, Robin gets it!” he heard Impulse say as he turned and left.

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

Small Easter Eggs: The briefcase from Teen Titans episode "Revved Up" and Dick punching Bruce from The New Batman Adventures episode "Old Wounds".

#batfam #reverse robins #dick grayson #bruce wayne #damian wayne #batkid and robin

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thatonerandomfan4 · 3 years

Text

Rockwell’s History [READ WARNINGS]

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

Fandom: Madness Combat

Characters: Dr. Crackpot, Dr. Hofnarr, Dr. Jebediah Christoff, Phobos, Hank, Sanford, Deimos, 2BDamned, Jebus, Tricky, Rockwell (My OC), Rockwell’s Parents

Warnings: Violence, Blood, Death, Gore, Attacking, Detailed Gore Scenes, Cursing, Transphobia, Crying, Injuries, Very Sensitive Topics, Angst, Heavy Angst, Long Story

Summary: Talking About Rockwell’s Backstory And How He Became Part Of The Madcom Group.

Word Count: 2,681

Notes: Rockwell Is Trans. His Original Name Was Roxannie (Pronounced As Roxanne) Roxannie Will Be In The First Half Of The Fic Until She Makes The Transition.

If You Feel Very Uncomfortable/Dislike The Topics That Are Going To Be In This Fic, Please Leave The Fic Now So You Don’t Have To Experience It And Triggers You.

Also, If You Dislike Fics That Involves Peoples Made Up Characters (OCs), Then You Are Welcome To Leave The Fic.

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

Roxannie Woke Up To Her Alarm Clock And Quickly Got Dressed, Heading Downstairs To Get Breakfast. Her Mother Greeted Her With A “Good Morning” And A Warm Smile. Roxannie Sat At The Table, Greeting Her Father. She Took One Bite Of Her Cereal Until The Table Was Knocked Over. With A Frightened Look, She Looked At Her Father And Screamed. His Head Was Chopped Clean Off With His Chest Wide Open, Revealing That His Internal Organs Were Tampered With. She Was About To Cry Until She Heard Her Mother Scream.

Instead Of Staying At The Table, She Ran To The Room Her Mother Was In. As Soon As Roxannie Stepped Foot In The Living Room, She Was Met With A Horrifying Sight.Her Mother Was Brutally Cut In Half With Her Face Missing From Her Head. The Top Half Of Her Body Hung From The Ceiling By A Sword Which Impaled Her. The Bottom Half Of Her Body Was On The Floor, In A Pile With Her Internal Organs. Annie Almost Gagged At The Sight, Until She Saw The Man Who Had Caused Her Parent’s Deaths. A Tall Dark Figure With Red Eyes Approached Her With A Hammer. It Grabbed Her Firmly By The Neck And Bashed Her Head Twice, Revealing Her Brain.

It Left Her On The Ground Struggling To Stay Alive, Leaving Only A Tablet Behind. Rox Used It To Contact For Help, But Could Barely Stay Conscious Due To Her Brain Being Exposed. Luckily, There Was A Fast Response. The Mysterious Person Was Immediately Able To Track Her Location And Tell Her To Stay Where She Is. She Agreed And Just Laid In Front Of The Tablet, Trying Not To Lose Consciousness. About 45 Minutes Had Passed So Far, And She Was Starting To Feel Her Eyelids Get Heavy.

A Man Rushed In And Immediately Injected Her With Some Type Of Medicine. She Immediately Struggled To Stand Up, Before Being Forced To Sit Down. Her Head Was Bandaged Properly Before She Was Helped Up. She Didn’t Even Get A Chance To Thank The Strange Man Because He Immediately Rushed Her Out Of The House And Into His Vehicle. The Whole Car Ride Was Quiet Except For Roxannie’s Cries, Mourning The Death Of Her Parents.

She Couldn’t Even Form Sentences Or Explain To The Man That Saved Her What Happened Because Of How Upset She Was. He Felt Bad For Her, Trying To Give Her Anything She Could Keep Her Mind Busy With Until They Got To The Place. She Didn’t Really Want Anything Though, Other Than To Let Out What She Was Experiencing Now. Once They Arrived To Their Destination, She Was Immediately Brought Into A Lab Where A Bunch Of Scientists Were Working. The Man Led Her Into A Room Where A Small Chubby Man Chatted With A Tall, Stern Looking Guy.

Dr. ??: “Hofnarr, Christoff. I Uh….Got The Child.”

The Two Men Looked Over And Immediately Rushed To Roxannie. They Hugged Her And Did Their Best To Comfort Her In Any Way Possible In That Moment.

Dr. Christoff: “Thank You, Crackpot. We’ll Let You Know If We Need Anything Else.”

Crackpot Nodded And Left The Room, Leaving The 3 Alone As Christoff Shut The Door. Hofnarr Tried To Calm Her Down And Talk With Her. It Was Very Hard To Understand The Girl Through Her Crying And Incoherent Words, Even For Him. Hofnarr Just Held Her Close And Consulted Her, Doing His Best To Calm Her Down. Christoff Sat Down Next To The Two And Offered Rox With A Glass Of Water. She Took The Water And Drank Half Of The Glass, Keeping The Drink In Her Hand While The Two Older Men Did Their Best To Help Her Relax.

Once She Was Calm Enough, They Finally Got Her To Explain What Had Happened. She Told Them Every Detail From This Morning, Keeping It Short And Sweet At The End. Hofnarr And Christoff Frowned, Hugging And Comforting Her Again. It Was Very Hard For Someone To Go Through All That Trauma, Especially For Someone At Her Age. Hell, The Kid Was Only 14. She Barely Knew How To Even React Or See Something Like That. She Needed A Lot Of Therapy To Get Past That Traumatic Event.

Hofnarr: “Hey Christoff. Do You Think Phobos Will Let Us Keep Her Here With Us?”

Christoff: “Maybe, With A Lot Of Bribing.”

Roxannie: “F-Forgive Me For I-Interrputing Your C-Conversation...But Wh-Who’s Ph-Phobos?”

Hofnarr: “Oh! Don’t Worry, You Aren’t Interrupting Anything. And Phobos Is Our Boss. We Need All Permission From Him To Do Anything Around Here.”

Christoff: “Kinda Sucky, But We’re Even Lucky If He’s In A Good Enough Mood To Pay Us.”

They Chat For A Bit Before Heading To Phobos’ Office, Staying Together The Whole Trip. Once They Reached Their Destination, They All Greeted Phobos Before Saying Anything About Roxannie. Phobos Obviously Had To Ask First And The Two Scientists Explained The Whole Situation. Phobos Took A Minute To Think Before Accepting Their Request To Allow Her To Stay. Ending It With “I Don’t Care How, But As Long As She’s Not A Big Distraction To You Two And Works With What She Can.” Of Course They All Had To Agree To That.

They All Headed Out The Door And Back To The Breakroom. Hofnarr Figured She Was Still Hungry And Offered To Make Her A Snack And A Drink. Christoff Just Offered Her To Stay With Them So She Has A Place To Sleep And Stay Instead Of The Lab. Rox Agreed To Both And Walked With The Two Men. On The Way Back To The Lab, Hofnarr Was Smiling, Gently Gripping Onto Rox’s Hand. Christoff Took Notice Of This And Chuckled. He Watched His Husband For A While. It Was Only Now When He Asked About His Sudden Cheery Mood.

Christoff: “What’s Got You All Giddy, Hoffy?”

Hofnarr: “We Have A Child Of Our Own Christoff! Aren’t You Excited To Be A Parent?”

Christoff Just Smiled As Hofnarr Went On About The Wonders Of Raising A Child Of Their Own. He Goes On Fantasies About Vacation, Family Outings, Family Dinners And Other Things. Roxannie Gripped Her New Parent’s Hands Gently, Smiling Softly. She Was Going To Start A New Family And These Were Her New Parents. She Didn’t Mind That, She Loved Supporting People Who Were In Relationships With The Same Gender.

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

A Few Years Later…

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

Hofnarr: “Rox, You Ready?”

Roxannie: “Yeah I’m Coming!”

She Placed Her Bandana On And Adjusted It To Be Over Her Bandages, Flattening Out Her Lab Coat. She Turned The Light Off In The Bathroom And Headed Downstairs To The Door, Greeting Her Two Dads As They Hugged Her. They Headed Towards The Lab While Hofnarr Was Going On About How Lucky They Were To Be A Family. Christoff Occasionally Threw In A Few Things, Chuckling At Hofnarr’s Responses.

Once They Got To The Labs, Everything Seemed Normal Except For A Few Stressed Out Scientists. The Shaking Scientists Greeted The 3 And Gave Them Information To Keep Safe. Hofnarr Took Roxannie With Him As He Usually Does For The Morning. Christoff Set Out To His Office, Looking Around At The Messed Up Experiments. He Scoffed At The Thought Of Phobos Actually Trying To Be Successful With This….Project. Christoff And Hofnarr Agreed That This Whole “Project Nexus” Thingy Would Not Be On For Long. Someone Would Definitely Stop Him, Even If It Had To Be One Of Them.

Not Even A Minute Later, Hofnarr Had A Worried Look On His Face As The Sound Of Gunshots Could Be Heard From The Other Lab. Rox Stayed Close To Hofnarr Just In Case Anything Happened. They Kept Hearing Gunshots From The Other Lab, Not Knowing What On Earth Was Going Down. Hofnarr Was Upset, What Was Happening To His Husband? Was He Ok? Was He Hurt? He Held Onto Rox As He Tried Not To Cry About The Thoughts That Were Running Through His Mind.

Hofnarr: “I Hope Christoff Is Ok. I Don’t Want To Lose Him Like We Almost Lost You.”

Roxannie: “I-I’m Sure He’ll Be Ok, Dad. And Hey, If I’m Still Here, He’ll Still Be Here.” *She Hugged Him Close. Hofnarr Gave Her A Soft Yet Sad Smile.*

Hofnarr: “I Sure Hope So.”

They Waited About 30 Minutes To Half An Hour Until Someone Entered The Room. As The Two Turned Around, Hofnarr Rushed To Hug The Man. It Was Christoff, And Thankfully He Wasn’t Injured That Badly As He Though. Christoff Went Over To Rox And Hugged Her, Handing Her A Gun As He Also Gave Hofnarr A Gun. He Wanted To Keep His Family Safe While This Whole Messed Up Thing Was Happening.

Hofnarr: “You’ve Made Quite A Mess Christoff.”

Christoff: “They’ve Gone Too Far. If We Don’t Stop This Now...”

A Few Agents Entered The Room, And Christoff Killed Them With The Help Of His Husband And Daughter. Hofnarr Sweated And Gulped, Keeping Roxannie Close To Him.

Hofnarr: “I See We Have No Other Choice…”

They Murdered The Agents Who Kept Coming And Headed Out. Hofnarr Unlocked All The Control Panels As The Continued Through The Lab, Killing Any Agents, Zombies Or Any Failed Experiments. It Took A While Until They Got The Whole Place Cleared But They Were Able To Do It Without Much Harm Going To Them. They Got To The Last Room With The Control Panel And Hofnarr Started Getting Worried. He Looked At Christoff While They Got Rid Of The Last Few Agents With Rox Guarding The Door.

Hofnarr: “Ya Know Phobos Will Finish Us For This.”

Christoff Looked At Hofnarr After Shooting The Last Agent, Ending The Life Of The Betrayer.

Christoff: “Phobos Better Watch His Back..”

Hofnarr Unlocked The Last Control Panel And Looked Around The Room. He Started Heading Out After Christoff And Roxannie, Staying Close To Them While They Walked. Eventually Hofnarr Took The Lead Of The Group To Make Sure That The Other Two Were Safe. He Opened The Door Outside For Them Both, And Closed It After They Were Far Ahead Of Hofnarr. He Followed Them And Took The Lead After A Few Minutes. He Then Looked At Christoff As They Approached Phobos’ Tower.

Hofnarr: “Everything Depends On You Now.” *He Used His Key Card To Unlock The Door And Let Christoff In, Keeping Roxannie Back* “Good Luck, Old Friend..”

They Watched Christoff Walk Into The Tower, And Headed Back To The Lab. Hofnarr Kept His Daughter Close To Him, Trying To Keep Her From Breaking Down Like How She Was When They First Met. They Knew Christoff Was Only Doing This For Their Own Good, And To Stop This Whole Thing From Ruining Nevada Even More. They Walked Into The Lab And Immediately Went To The Breakroom, Setting Their Weapons Down By The Table When They Got There.

They Got Some Food And Drinks While They Chatted, Sitting Down So They Wouldn’t Fall If One Was Upset Or Panicked. They Chatted About Christoff And How….Cold He Looked When He Walked Into Hofnarr’s Lab. Rox Was Scared By His Look, As It Was Her First Time Seeing Him Like That. Hofnarr Had Already Known This Look So He Was Pretty Used To It.

They Kept The Conversation Going By Talking About Other Stuff Like Work, Family Life, Dinners, And Especially That One Dinner Night. That Was The First Time Rox Had Seen Hofnarr Angry, And Not A Playful Or Slightly Irritated Angry. It Wasn’t His Fault They Were Banned From That Restaurant Though. The Boy Walked Up To Rox And Went “Tsk. You Wanna Be Trans? That’s Gross. You’re A Girl And You Will Always Be A Girl.” Hofnarr Was Just Defending His Daughter...By Attacking The Boy With A Chair.

They Were At The Lab For About An Hour To An Hour And A Half Just Chatting And Wandering Around. After A Bit, They Headed Outside And Met Up With Christoff Again.The Only Difference About Him Was That He Was Wearing The Key Fragment On His Head. Jeb Greeted The Two And Lead Them Back Inside The Lab. This Was Going To Be A Strange Experience For All Of Them.

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

A Few More Long Years Later…

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

Sanford And Deimos Turn The Corner, Shooting The Agents That Tried Approaching Them. The Two Headed Into The Room And Killed All The Agents In Sight. Then They Saw Her….Roxannie On The Floor Unconscious. They Both Inspected Her Body And Picked Her Up, Keeping Her With Them. They Finished With Their Mission And Brought Her Back To Base. The Brought Her To Hank And 2B Where They Inspected Her Body.

After She Woke Up, She Made A Request To The Doctor. She Wanted To Be A Man. The Doctor Hesitated Before Agreeing, Putting Her Under Anesthesia. He Waited A Few Minutes Before Finally Getting To Work. He Wrapped Him Up And Successfully Did Both Top And Bottom Surgery. Doc Finished With Replacing The Bandage On His Head, Cleaning The Wound Before Putting Anything On There.

After That, Doc Gave Rockwell Medicine To Help With The Pain. He Helped Rocky Walk And Get Used To Using The Bathroom. After That, Doc Gave Rockwell Some Clothes To Wear: A White Shirt With Ripped Sleeves, A Black Vest. A Belt To Go Over His Chest, Black Pants And Another Belt To Keep Them Up, Black Boots, Goggles With One Side Red And The Other Black And A Gas Mask. He Also Put His Hair Into A PonyTail.

Rockwell Put Everything On And Headed Outside, Ordered By Hank, To Fight The Clown. Rocky Took A Look At The Clown And…….Wait….That Lab Coat Looks So Familiar…..Was It..No It Couldn’t Be….HOFNARR?! But..He Looked Way Different Than Before.

Tricky: “WHO ARE YOU?! NEVERMIND THAT- CLOWN KILLS YOU!!”

Rockwell: “No Wait-!”

Tricky Whacked Rocky Pretty Hard In The Face, His Gas Mask Had To Be Removed. After Rockwell Removed His Goggles, Tricky Gasped And Dropped His Stop Sign..He Looked Like He Wanted To Cry.

Tricky: “Ro-Roxannie…?”

Rockwell, Holding His Jaw In Place: “It’th Rockwell Now, D-Dad.”

Tricky Immediately Hugged His Child, Healing His Jaw And Forming A Metal Plate Over The Injury. Rockwell Hugged Tricky Back, Both Squeezing The Shit Out Of Each Other. Tricky Kept His Son Close, Until They Heard Footsteps Approach From Behind Rockwell. It Was Jeb….Well...Christoff But He Didn’t Look That Different.

Jebus: “Tricky, What Are You Doing?! He’s On Hank’s Side!” *He Took Out His Binary Sword, And Swung It Up*

Tricky Backed Away And Ran To Jeb, Trying To Stop Him.

Tricky: “JEB NO HURT HIM!! GUY IS-”

It Was Too Late. Jeb Swung And Cut Rockwell Almost In Half.

Tricky: “Roxannie-”

Jeb Looked Frightened. Oh God, What Had He Done? He Removed His Sword And Watched Rockwell’s Limp Body Fall To The Ground. The Savior Broke Out In Tears. He Just Murdered His Own Child, Or He Thought He Did. He Was Relieved When He Heard Rockwell. He Was Still Alive! How? That Didn’t Matter, He Was Just Happy His Son Was Alive Still.

Jeb Rushed Over To Rockwell And Healed Him, Summoning Bandages And Wrapping Him Up. He Was Still Crying From What He Had Done. Tricky Joined Them Both, Starting A Group Hug With All Of Them As They Reunited. Sanford, Deimos, Hank And 2B Rushed Out As Tricky Helped Rockwell Up And Jeb Healed Him Again.

Sanford: “Oh Cool, So I Guess We Can Call A Truce.”

Deimos And 2B Agreed, Hank Didn’t. Wimbleton Didn’t Like The Idea Of Living With His Enemies, Especially If They Act Nice And Turn On Them In The End. Hank Disagreed And Left To Blow Off Some Steam, It Was Gonna Take A Long While To Convince Him. Sanford And Deimos Ended Up Adopting Rockwell While Tricky And Jeb Readopted Him. Rockwell Now Lives With The Crew, With Having 4 Parents Who Support And Care About Him, 2B Who Takes Care Of His Wounds And Trans Stuff, And Hank...

#madness combat #madness combat fanfic #madness combat oc #mc fanfic #mc oc #too lazy to tag the characters #Violence Blood Death And Gore #Attacking Detailed Gore Scenes Cursing Transphobia And Crying #Crying Injuries Very Sensitive Topics Angst Heavy Angst AndLong Story #angst #tw angst #long post #fanfic #my fanfic

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ecoamerica · 1 month

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youtube

Watch the 2024 American Climate Leadership Awards for High School Students now: https://youtu.be/5C-bb9PoRLc

The recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by student climate leaders! Join Aishah-Nyeta Brown & Jerome Foster II and be inspired by student climate leaders as we recognize the High School Student finalists. Watch now to find out which student received the $25,000 grand prize and top recognition!

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re1d · 4 years

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home | spencer reid

→ summary: "i’ve learned that home isn’t a place, it’s a feeling.” - cecilia ahern → warnings: gun violence, graphic descriptions of murder, near death experience, but overall fluff → word count: 2.6k → a/n: based on no.42 from the prompt list ; “everything’s okay now. i’m here, i’m here.” // !! i read this rly interesting article as reference as to what it feels like the get shot !! // the first vers of this sucked ass but i rly rly do like this vers i hope u all feel the same <33

A pebble feels as though it was thrown at the left side of your neck. At first, you don’t even register that a bullet pierced your skin, all you process is an aggrivating burning sensation where the metal piece had hit. With drooping eyes, the world looks as though it’s moving in slow motion. Flash after flash from countless guns light up your vision, but soon enough, you find yourself unable to see anything. Your body is out of your control as it flops onto the dirt path; your kevlar protects your chest, but your head smashes against several large rocks. Pushing through the pain, you reach up to touch your wound and run your fingers over the viscid liquid dripping from it. As well as from your neck, blood seeps from a cut on your forehead. Faint shouts of your name from both Reid and Morgan are heard over the pounding in your ears. Footsteps seem to sound right next to your head as you cough up red fluid onto your forearm.

“[Y/N], oh God, [Y/N]—look at me, look at me, please,” Spencer’s voice rings clearly in your head, despite his image coming in and out of focus. One of his hands is held against your neck as the other cradles your cheek. The glare of light from his cheeks is blurry, but you’re able to make out the tears falling from his eyes. “Stay ... stay with me, [Y/N]. Medic! Need a medic over here!” He shouts, “Just hold on, okay? Help is coming. You’re gonna be okay, you’re gonna be okay.” His second repetition is mainly for himself; he tries desperately to prove himself right. If there’s one time where he’s sure of anything, it needs to be now.

Morgan sprints to his teammates, narrowly avoiding the shower of bullets that followed him. Looking at the two of you, he cups his hands over his mouth and yells once more for a medic. Glancing back down at you, his eyes soften while he takes one of your hands in much larger ones. “Hey, kid, you gotta pull through, okay? Pretty Boy’s waitin’ for you over here.” Derek’s tough exterior falters, tears welling up in his eyes, “Kid, you’re gonna be fine ... we’re gonna get you stitched up and you’re gonna get back to solving problems and lovin’ Boy Wonder, okay?”

A ghost of a smile appears on your lips as your eyes threaten to roll back into your head. Words leave your mouth, but at this point, you have no clue as to what they are. “You’re crying,” you hack up blood onto Spencer’s hand, “f-for ... for me?” As you try to laugh, more of the liquid comes out, and Spencer quiets you with gentle coos. The anguish in his gaze is more painful than the bullet in your neck, but slowly, you begin to drift away from him. Morgan’s hands slip from yours and Spencer is forced to let you go. Ironically enough, an emptioness fills you to the brim as you watch your lover stand off to the side as you’re whisked away on a gourney.

However, once you’re inside the ambulance, both men come back into your line of sight. You relish in the privelege of getting to look at them instead of the bleak, white ceiling of the emergency vehicle. Various voices are going at once as well as the rapidly beating heart monitor. “BP’s dropping, pulse is thready, starting a large-bore IV.” The medic works on you, but your focus is trained on Spencer and only Spencer.

“Spe-Spencer, tell me ...” you slur through pain, “a story, please?” It’s a silly request, a childish one, that etches a weak smile onto both men in the ambulance’s faces. Morgan and Spencer’s eyes meet, and the latter opens his mouth and begins to speak.

“If I tell a story, you need to stay awake to hear it, okay? Got it?” You nod, blinking at him sluggishly. “Okay, well, ‘The boy with fair hair lowered himself down the last few feet of rock and began to pick his way toward the lagoon. Though he had taken off his school sweater and trailed it now from one hand, his grey shirt stuck to him and his hair was plastered to his forehead. All round him the long scar smashed into the jungle was a bath of heat. He was clambering heavily among the creepers and broken trunks when a bird, a vision of red and yellow, flashed upwards with a witch-like cry; and this cry was echoed by another ...’” Hearing the beginning of Lord of the Flies is strangely calming coming from Spencer. He knows it’s been one of your favorite books since you read it in high school, and in spite of its gore, you find it interesting and somewhat cathartic.

Your boyfriend keeps reciting the novel until you arrive at the hospital. They unload you from the back of the ambulance and roll you to the emergency department with lightening fast feet. Spencer and Morgan follow you until a hand on his Spencer’s chest brings both of them to a halt. “I’m sorry, sir, you can’t go back there.” The male nurse politely directs him to the waiting room just as Spencer opens his mouth to argue, but Morgan places a brotherly hand on his shoulder and he closes it.

They head to the room full of anxiety and stress in silence. Morgan’s touch never leaves Spencer though, even as the younger flops into the uncomfortable hospital chairs. “Reid,” Morgan mutters as Spencer plants his face in his palms, “[Y/N]’s gonna pull through.” Nodding, Spence swipes his hands up and down his features, hoping to rid himself of the anxiety he’s plauged with.

“It’s just so ironic, though. This happened to me—what—5 years ago? And now, it’s happening to [Y/N], but this time it’s even worse. Did you see the way she was fading, Morgan, I really don’t know if—.”

“Kid, stop,” Morgan’s command is forceful, containing much more power than when he was talking with you, “[Y/N] is strong, and you know that. She won’t give up until the very end. And—Jesus—kid, she has something to fight for. Now, I gotta call the team, but I don’t want you thinking about how [Y/N] might not make it. Just think about how much you love her, got it?” Before walking away to make the call, he waits for Spencer to acknowledge his question.

Instead of mulling over thoughts of you, Spencer’s mind wanders back to the night he’d gotten shot in the neck. It was cold, and the ground was slick with rain—a stark contrast from this warm, summer sunset the five unsubs had decided to start a shootout with the cops and the feds. Spencer had just convened with the sheriff and his other officers when the first shots were fired. One had struck the sheriff in the chest, and he had fallen immediately. Blake lunged towards him without taking into consideration the hail of bullets in her way. In an act of protection, he remembers pushing her out of the way and a piercing shock traveling down the left side of his body. It didn’t hurt, necessarily, but his whole being had gone limp. The feeling of not being constricted, but not being powerful enough to move your own limbs was so awful that it caused a shiver to run down his spine.

“Spence!” Oh, how he wants so badly for that voice to be you, but when he looks up he’s met with his team. It sounds callous, yes, not being excited that his best friends are there to support him, but he all he wants right now is for you to be okay. As he stands, JJ’s arms loop around his shoulders, and he accepts her hug willingly. “[Y/N]’ll be fine, you know?”

“Yeah,” Rossi’s interjection is completed by stealing Spencer away from JJ and greeting him with cheek kisses, “[Y/N]’s a fighter. Chi si volta, e chi si gira, sempre a casa va finire, Spencer. Don’t ever forget that.” Although his knowledge of Italian is limited, Spencer recognizes the well known phrase. It’s something he’s heard Rossi say before, but it warms him nonetheless—no matter where you go or turn, you’ll always end up at home. Spencer doesn’t consider himself to be an extremely spiritual person, but he prays to anything that’s listening that Rossi is correct.

Staring down at the white tiles, sand appears frozen in its hourglass. Old Father Time mocks him from his place inside each ticking clock by making the hands go around, seemingly dripped in mollasses. Spencer can’t bring himself to stop his nervous fidgeting—his left knee bounces furiously as he chews his nails to the quick. His teammates acknowledge his nerves with a certain familiarty that they can only call experience. Spencer is so engrossed with his now bleeding fingers that he doesn’t even lift his head when your name is called, and it isn’t until Derek shakes his shoulder rather harshly that he is pulled from his apprehension-induced trance.

“Patient [Y/L/N]?” At the second mention of your name, Spencer bounds from his chair to the nurse holding a clipboard. She stares up at him with sympathy clear in her eyes, and for a moment, he can neither hear nor see. Thoughts are racing through that big brain of his—bad thoughts. Thoughts of your lifeless body lying on an operating table, thoughts of your last conversation, and weirdly enough—thoughts of Piggy from Lord of the Flies.

“I-I’m her boyfriend, nurse ... did,” he has to compose himself before he continues, “did something happen? Is she okay?”

“It was touch and go for a bit. She flatlined, but we were able to bring her back. Miss [Y/L/N] is resting right now, but I’m sure she’ll love to have a few vistors when she wakes up. I’d advise no more than three visitors at a time—ideally, only one person should be in there, for her sake. But,” she pauses, a smile playing at her lips, “I can see you all are eager, so I can make a tiny exception.”

Thank God for exceptions. Spencer takes large strides to your room, Morgan and Penelope—who had joined the team at the hospital just moments before your name was called—follow behind him. The sound of her heels clicking on the floor ignite a fire in Spencer. He’s approximately twenty heel clicks away from getting to see your face again, but truthfully, his breath is stolen from him as he sees you, unconscious on the bed.

Your complexion is pallid, and quite honestly, you don’t look alive. Spencer stands in the doorway for a few seconds, merely taking in your appearance. Penelope manages to say that she’s going to go get some snack for when you wake, and she urges Derek to come with her. As their presence fades, Spencer is finally able to step across the threshold. He meanders aimlessly around your room, picking up different items and avoiding sitting down next to your bedside for as long as possible. But, the need to touch you soon overwhelms him, and he complies with the burning desire in his chest.

Dragging a chair over, he grasps one of your limp hands in his and brings it up to touch his forehead. “[Y/N], I know you’re not in a coma or anything like that, you’re just asleep, but you have to hear me when I say that I love you. I love you so much, and I can’t picture not walking into our apartment without you by my side. Honestly, I can’t picture doing anything without you. Did you know that? God, I’m so in love with you, and I know you’re resting, but—.”

“Don’t worry, Pretty Boy. Your love confessions made me swoon so hard that I fell out of sleep,” you interrupt him with an exhausted giggle, the dressing on your neck preventing you from looking at him fully. Inhaling, you breath, “Do you see the kind of effect you have on me, Spencer Reid?”

Electricity jolts through Spencer’s limbs as his head snaps up to be met with your teasing gaze. Heat floods his brain, and it’s consumed with pure adoration. Not really thinking about your injury, he launches himself at you. You force yourself to supress a groan as you hug him back as well as you can. Spencer’s distinct scent of old books, coffee, and lavender laundry detergent gives solace to you, but the small smile it coaxed onto your lips was whisked away when his shoulders began to tremble in your embrace. “I—[Y/N], I didn’t think I was ever gonna see you again,” Spencer sniffles into your gown, the thin fabric becoming soaked with his tears and drool.

“Spencer, please don’t cry. Look at me, love, look at me.” Your voice is stronger with each word, and he pulls away to stare at you with puffy eyes. Grabbing his hand, you place it on your face so that he’s cupping your cheek. “You feel me, right, Spencer? I’m gonna be okay, I just got a little beat up is all. You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

Spencer caresses your skin with his thumb, indulging himself in the feeling of you under his touch. However, something inside of him hesitates. Part of his mind drifts back to Mr. Scratch and Lindsey in Mexico, and he struggles to separate fantasy from reality once more. “How ... [Y/N], how do I know this is real?” Barely letting him finish his sentence, you smash your lips onto his. They move against each other with a gentle fervor, and your hands, although riddled with needles, reach up to take hold of his face. You brush away the rivulets of salted water that cascade down from his eyes as you disconnect yourself with a contented sigh.

“Spencer. This is real, I promise,” you murmur, moving over in the bed to allow him space to lay next to you. Gratefully accepting, he climbs up onto the bed, the sheets crinkling under his weight. Wordlessly, he envelops you in his arms while placing his head on your chest. Closing his eyes, Spencer takes in both the smell of disinfectant and your perfume, a cinnamon scent filling his mind with the feeling of home. “You’re okay, I’m okay, everything’s okay now,” you say, carding your fingers through his knotted curls, “I’m here ... I’m here, Spence.”

“You just got shot, and you’re the one comforting me?” He hums, “That doesn’t look good on my part.” His pout pulls a laugh all the way from your belly, and suddenly, the white walls don’t seem as daunting as they had when you’d first arrived in the hospital. Pressing a kiss to the top of his head, you whisper an I love you into his honey-colored locks. A response isn’t needed because you already know what he’d say.

Slowly, you drift away from the rigid bed sheets and the subtle ache in your neck. Spencer’s breathing levels out, and you can feel his heart beating steadily against the side of your ribcage. As you slip further into sleep, Spencer can’t help but stare up at your drooping eyelids. He finds it a bit funny—the last time your eyes had fallen like that, he thought you were going to die. Being dressed in white, Spencer ponders the fact that each and every patient is—quite literally—clothed in an angel’s robe as they wait to either live or die. He doesn’t forget the thought, even as you nod off, your head sinking into the pillow. After watching you descend into the waiting jaws of slumber, Spencer remembers Rossi’s words from earlier.

No matter where you go or turn, you’ll always end up at home—and he will never forget them.

#mine #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #dr spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction

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thatbloodymuggle · 4 years

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the one with john b’s bad driving

Tongue Tied (jj maybank) 9/?

masterlist

word count: 3.2k

warnings: n/a

playlist

At some point amidst Rosie's tossing and turning, she must have fallen into a light sleep. She woke up the next morning feeling just as awful as she had a few hours earlier.

The blinding light pouring into the room evoked a groan from her. She reached for the alarm clock on the side table. Her tired eyes shot wide open at the time displayed: 10:04 AM. She was supposed to be at The Wreck four minutes ago.

Rosie shot out of bed in a panic, ignoring the pounding in her head from the alcohol the night before. The frazzled girl ran to the bathroom in the hallway where John B stood brushing his tooth.

"Mouthwash!"

She frantically shoved her friend out of the way to grab the large Listerine bottle. She didn't waste time swishing some around in her mouth and spitting it into the sink.

"Morning, Sunshine," John B mumbled with his toothbrush hanging out of his mouth.

Rosie splashed water onto her face in an attempt to freshen up her clearly exhausted features.

"I'm late for my shift and I need a shirt," she gasped through the water going up her nose. "Can I use one of yours?"

She didn't wait for his reply and hurried into his room. Rosie heard a distant "Sure" as she rifled through his drawers. She grabbed the first clean shirt she could find and raced back into the guest room to pull on her jean shorts from the day before. Rosie tucked the baggy shirt into her shorts in an effort to make herself look less like she'd just spent the night with a guy.

"When are you off?"

"3:00," she called as she threw her hair up into a messy ponytail. Rosie ran into the hallway to face John B. "Give me a ride?"

"Sure," he nodded. Rosie haphazardly slipped on her flip flops and raced towards the front door.

She paused at the sight of JJ sprawled across the couch, grunting softly in his sleep. The same uncomfortable feeling from last night twisted her insides and made her skin crawl.

Before she could dwell on it, John B nudged her towards the door. Rosie shook her head and pulled herself back to the task on hand. She all but sprinted towards the Volkswagen van.

As soon as she slammed the door shut, the anxiety of being late returned. John B quickly followed and revved up the engine. He pulled out of the driveway, and Rosie couldn't help but stare at the hammock with a frown. She watched it until it was completely out of sight. The events from last night made her stomach churn and her head hurt. Rosie had hoped she'd drinken enough to forget it, but she wasn't so fortunate.

"Fun night, huh?"

Rosie whipped her head to the side to catch John B's suggestive smirk. Her body tensed. What had he seen?

"Super fun," she plastered on a smile, "Kind of a bummer when you guys left though."

John B shot her a look from the corner of his eyes, "Oh really? You and JJ looked like you were having fun."

Despite her attempt to remain impassive, Rosie couldn't stop the blush crawling up her neck and spreading to her cheeks. He definitely saw.

"Nothing happened!" she burst out. Rosie tried to conceal her nerves, but was failing miserably.

"Never said anything did."

He turned his head from the road to look at her for a moment. And in that moment he saw it. He saw the red covering her face, the nervous smile, and the guilty look in her eyes. John B's eyes widened in realization, and his jaw dropped.

"Oh my god, something so happened!" he turned to face her completely, forgetting about the road ahead. Rosie watched in horror as the van nearly swerved into a sign off the road.

"Eyes! Road!" she screeched, "Nothing happened!"

John B shrugged, "Whatever you say."

Rosie's brows cinched together in confusion, "Wait, you mean you didn't see?"

John B's eyes nearly popped out of his head. Rosie immediately realized her mistake. You dumb bitch, she thought to herself.

"What?! See what?"

Rosie flinched at his booming voice. The car swerved even more sharply this time, nearly hitting another.

"John B! You're driving, for fuck's sake!"

He regained control of the van for the second time, but his full attention remained on Rosie.

"What the fuck did you do?" he yelled, looking back and forth between her and the road.

"Nothing! Okay? I wasn't lying when I said nothing happened," Rosie groaned and shrunk further into her seat.

"Well obviously something happened that you didn't want me to see!" John B's volume increased. She remained silent, causing him to raise his voice even more, "Well? Spit it out!"

Rosie sighed in defeat.

"We didn't not kiss but we didn't kiss."

She immediately cringed, awaiting his reaction.

"You didn't not--what? So you kissed?"

"No!"

"But you almost did?"

Rosie's silence answered John B's question.

"You can't tell anyone," Rosie gave him a hard stare.

He laughed, "I won't."

But his joking nature left Rosie feeling unsettled.

"Seriously, John B. Don't tell anyone, and don't even talk to him about it. We were both drunk. It didn't mean anything, and it's in everyone's best interest to just forget about it," she spoke with a stern voice. The excited grin on John B's face slowly fell, but he nodded at her wish.

"I won't. Promise."

Time was on Rosie's side as John B pulled into the parking lot for The Wreck. She was quick to jump out of the van, now remembering she was at least twenty minutes late.

John B called to her before she shut the door, "Pick you up at 3?"

Rosie nodded and blew him a kiss as she ran towards the restaurant, "Love you!"

She mentally prepared herself for the rage of Mr. Carrera as she entered. Rosie rushed to the kitchen, but nearly fell over as she ran into a tall body.

"25 minutes late!?"

Rosie looked up at Kie's angry father, and put on her most apologetic smile, "I'm so sorry, Mike. I can work late to make up for it."

He rolled his eyes and tossed her an apron, "Just start the food prep, won't you? Wasted enough time already," he grumbled and walked off.

With a long sigh, Rosie set to work. It was a nice distraction from the dilemma of the night before. Each time her thoughts drifted to JJ, she'd count the numbers of carrots, tomatoes, and onions she'd chopped. She'd take chopping vegetables over confronting her problems any day.

Meanwhile, a particular set of blond hair and blue eyes was waking up from his own sleepless sleep, getting ready for a day full of adventure.

"We're going where?"

"We've been over this, Rosie. The Salvage Yard. Keep up."

After a busy afternoon shift at The Wreck, John B's van filled with four hyperactive teenagers pulled up to pick Rosie up. Pope rushed through an explanation of how they'd used the internet in a Kook country club to map out the coordinates of the Royal Merchant. They'd discovered it was shallow enough to reach it, but they'd need a drone. Hence, the Salvage Yard.

"So we're gonna steal a fucking drone from the Salvage Yard?" she clarified, trying to take in the massive load of information all at once.

"Yes," they all spoke in unison with the exception of Pope, who sat shaking his head in disapproval.

Rosie sighed and leaned back next to Kiara, who sat across from Pope in the back of the van. JJ was luckily in the front with John B, saving Rosie from having to face him. It wasn't that she didn't want to see him, it was that she didn't know how to act around him after last night. Her mind told her to pick fights like normal, but her gut said something different.

"Okay, so what's the plan for getting in? It's gated, right? And there's a guard," she pointed out.

"Well, we're gonna need a distraction," John B spoke, looking pointedly at the two girls in the van through the rear-view mirror.

It seemed Kiara had already been informed of her duty, as she didn't react. Rosie, on the other hand, narrowed her eyes at the Pogue, "I'm not seducing him out."

"Hey, no one said anything about seduction. You and Kie just need to distract him. You know, say you have a flat tire or something," John B spoke from behind the wheel.

"Well if it's not seduction, John B, then why don't you do the distracting?" she raised her eyebrows.

"Jesus! Because you and Kie are girls. Would you stop bein' difficult and just fuckin' do it?" JJ snapped.

"Cool it JJ," Kiara scolded him. Rosie didn't partake for once.

She frowned and hardened her expression. But it didn't stop the twisting feeling in her stomach. This feeling was slightly different than the one she'd felt this morning. This one was more of a stabbing pain, while the other was a dull ache.

"So we're clear on the plan, then?" John B awkwardly changed the subject. "Rosie and Kie distract the guard and we run in and get the drone."

"Guys, if we get caught stealing it's gonna be bad," Pope voiced his concern.

"Pope we're not stealing the drone, we're borrowing it," John B laughed.

Pope sighed and crossed his arms, "Humans are the only animal that can't tell fantasy from reality."

"Did you come up with that?" John B asked, glanced back at the boy.

Rosie cut in to answer, "Try Albert Bernstein."

Pope shot Rosie a grin.

"So," Pope leaned towards John B, "Which is it? Fantasy or reality?"

"Why are you so weird, Pope?" JJ began to roll up a joint.

"It's fantasy, but possible reality," Kie ignored the blond, and looked to Pope instead.

"Reality," John B smiled.

Rosie nodded along to the long-haired boy in the front, "Reality."

"Virtual reality," JJ mumbled while pulling out his lighter. Pope reached up and snagged the joint from his mouth, earning a glare.

"Keep the signal clear," Pope shot him a look.

Not a moment too soon, John B's van pulled into the lot of the Salvage Yard. Rosie sighed and shared a look with Kie as they knew what was coming next. The two girls hopped out of the vehicle.

"Hey, don't worry," John B called out to the girls as they rounded the van, "You got this."

Rosie rolled her eyes and continued walking. Kie stayed behind for a moment to reply, "It's not us that I'm worried about."

"Show time?" Rosie grumbled to her taller friend.

"Show time," Kiara sighed back.

They walked side by side towards the guard's office and forced their friendliest smiles.

"Hello!" Kie called out to the man behind the window. The two girls waved enthusiastically.

The security guard shot up and approached the two teenagers, "Can I help you?"

"Hi," Rosie wore a sickeningly sweet smile, "We actually have a flat tire."

"We were wondering if you could maybe help us out?" Kie finished.

Rosie pulled her mastered puppy-dog eyes and Kie shifted from foot to foot with an innocent grin.

"Yeah," the man grinned back, and ran back to open the gate.

"It's too easy," Kie mumbled to Rosie who nodded in agreement.

He rushed back with a box of tools. Rosie and Kiara lead him to a car. "It's just this back one right here."

Rosie nodded at the three boys who were hiding in the bushes while Kie spoke to the security guard. She watched him sprint towards the gate, barely slipping in before it closed.

"I got this," the man bent down to check out the tire.

"Thank you," the two girls spoke in unison.

They made idle small talk for a while as the man worked on the tire. The plan seemed to be running smoothly until a dog barking made the guard perk up.

"You hear that?"

Rosie shot the man a blank look, "Hear what?"

"Tebow's got somethin'," he stood up.

Kiara was quick to distract him, "It's probably just a racoon, maybe. You know?"

The man paused, but bent back down to work on the tire.

We need more time, Rosie mouthed to Kiara. Kie nodded, and walked over to the other side of the car, pointing to the hair clip in her hair. Rosie nodded in understanding.

The man continued working for a moment, but then stood up as he finished. Rosie's eyes widened as he rounded the side of the car.

"Wait!" she called after him, but it was too late. He'd seen Kiara flattening the tire with her hair pin.

"What are you doing?" the guard asked. Realization dawned upon him. He ran off before either girl could stop him.

"Shit," Rosie cursed, "Get back to the van!"

The two girls sprinted back to John B's van. Kiara sat behind the wheel in case they needed a quick getaway, and Rosie in the back. They waited anxiously for the boys to show up. First, Pope came running back. Then a couple minutes later, John B came running dragging a large case which made the group erupt in excitement. Last but not least, JJ came sauntering over to the van.

The gang all cheered once the van was completely loaded, and John B, who'd switched seats with Kie, drove off. This time, Pope, JJ, and Rosie shared the back.

"That was fuckin' nuts, bro!" JJ cried, clapping the back of John B's seat. "Dumb dog chased me through the whole damn yard!"

"How'd you get away?" Pope laughed.

The blond shrugged, "Bobby caught me. But I talked my way out of it."

JJ pulled out the joint he'd rolled from earlier and lit it. This time, Pope didn't stop him. Rosie watched as he placed the stick between his lips. It hung loosely between his fingers and she couldn't help but watch their subtle movements. He brought his hand down and blew out a large cloud of smoke, filling the van with the smell of weed.

"Don't hotbox the car, man!" John B complained while rolling down a window.

Rosie was shocked when the hand loosely holding the joint shot out in front of her. JJ held it out for Rosie to take. She did so slowly, and took a deep drag before handing it back. She didn't dare look at him, and he didn't dare look at her. Their awkward interaction seemed to go unnoticed by Pope, who was too distracted examining the drone.

Rosie looked outside the window to see the sun was now setting, and the sky had turned a soft orange. The teenagers drove around for a while, relishing in their success and the beautiful view. As the sun sunk further and further, their stomachs began rumbling.

"I'm hungry," Pope spoke for everyone.

"Drive to the Wreck," Kiara instructed John B, "I can try to convince my dad to give us free food again."

"Yeah!" the group began to cheer, but Kie quickly shut them down.

"No promises, though."

John B pulled the van into the driveway of the restaurant and they didn't hesitate to pile out.

"What I would do to a beer and shrimp and grits right now," JJ groaned as he hopped out.

Pope laughed, "It would not be pretty."

The Pogues entered the cool restaurant. Kie walked straight to her dad and Rosie's boss, while the others went towards the back. Rosie sat down at a table and rolled her eyes as the three boys awkwardly shifted from foot to foot, unsure if they should join her yet. Kie and her dad turned to look at the group of Pogues. They all put on their sweetest smile and waved. Rosie grinned as Kie squealed and hugged her dad, signaling they would be feasting.

Kie turned to face her friends, looking at the boys as if they were dumb, "Well? Sit down!"

"Yes!"

They hurried into their seats as they waited for Kie's dad to bring out the leftover food. Kie walked over with a tray of ice cold waters, which they all accepted graciously.

"Fuck yes," John B mumbled once Mr. Carrera came over with a tray full of a variety of food from burgers, to fried shrimp, to fries.

"Night shift tomorrow, Rosie?" he asked her with a smile.

"You got it, Mike."

She grinned at her boss before tearing into the food with the rest of her friends.

"Oh my god," JJ moaned as he shoveled fried shrimp into his mouth, "Better than sex."

Pope tried to retaliate, probably with some clever remark, but his mouth was full of burger and it came out as gibberish. Rosie laughed as he tried to speak and threw a fry at him. Pope grinned with a full mouth before picking up a shrimp from JJ's plate and throwing it back at her. Rosie opened her mouth just in time, catching it between her teeth with a wink.

The upbeat music playing throughout the empty restaurant served as the perfect background noise. Soon, Kie was up and dancing, and had pulled John B along with her. Rosie watched her friends with a grin. She turned her head back to the table to get a sip of water, but stopped halfway.

Blue eyes were trained on her from across the table, and she stared right back. This was the first time JJ and Rosie had made eye contact since their almost kiss in the hammock. They just looked at each other for a while as John B and Kiara danced, and now Pope who had been dragged up by Kiara too. Rosie and JJ both tried to decipher what the other was thinking, but came up short. They'd both built up a wall, and neither one was willing to crumble first.

So instead, Rosie cocked an eyebrow at him.

"I feel like dancing."

She stood up and he followed. They moved closer to their friends and began to sway to the beat of the song. Rosie and JJ moved in sync, as if a magnet was pulling them together. They continued their stare-off, occasionally breaking it with a twirl or a spin. JJ subtly placed his hands on her hips, which Rosie subconciously swayed even harder. The look in JJ's eyes had gone from a hard blankness to something else entirely. The normally light blue was now dark and clouded with desire. The sudden change triggered another twisting feeling inside Rosie, but this time in her gut.

Pope, Kiara, and even John B, whom Rosie had confided in, didn't seem to notice the tension between the pair. Or how close together they were. They were too engrossed in their own dancing and eating in-between.

So Rosie and JJ continued dancing--his hands on her waist, and hers in the air. Despite the burning urge, they never moved closer. Just looked at each other. No words, no sound, no feeling.

taglist:

@tangledinsparkles @lovelymaybankk @my--heroine@thelonelyumbrella @floretsoleil @flick24 @books-netflix-and-pizza@dad-ee-drea @dolanfivsosxox @anahgiedd @love-bean @maleriefay @mrs-maybank @shawnssongs @downbytheouterbanks @lostwnoah @2410slb @daygiowvibe @thesailbells

i think tumblr is shadow banning me or something.. idk what’s going on but these posts aren’t showing up on tag pages and my notes have disappeared :( but here’s next chapter anyway!

#jj maybank #rudy pankow #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank smut #jj maybank fanfic #jj maybank fanfiction #outer banks #obx #John b #john b routledge #pope heyward #kiara carrera #outer banks fanfic #outer banks fanfiction

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oureuphoria · 4 years

Text

Mocha Kinda Guy

Genre: fluff, comedy

Pairing: non-idol!jimin x cafeworker!reader

Word count: 3.1K

Warnings: Nothing this is just 3,163 words of pure fluff.

Note: First of all I would like to apologise anon because this is kind of late. Thank you for requesting this because it made me smile internally and externally. I have busted out every cliche in the book for this oneshot because Jimin is literally perfect how could I not. Enjoy!

“What do you mean I have to do closes now? I always do opens, that was our deal!” You angrily reasoned to your boss, also your best friend Hoseok. “Taehyung forgot to tell me he’s leaving the country for a goddamn month till the night before he left so I just need you to cover for him.” You stopped wiping the table and tried to throw the rag at him but the wind made it fall embarrassingly short. “Who’s going to do my opens then?” You smiled bitterly, he gave you a taunting glare before picking up the rag and throwing it right in your face. “I will.” You groaned before going back to wiping the tables, preparing them for what could be your last open. “You know I hate working nights, they’re scary, what if I get kidnapped and die? Besides, I walk home Hoseok and we close at 9pm on good nights!” He gave you a pitiful smile before putting a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “I’m sorry, I would do it but I have dance classes at night. You’ll be fine, your apartment is only 10 minutes away.” You gave up, nodding with an exasperated sigh. You had to accept your fate, this was your last open.

So far, your night shift had been disastrous. You ran to the cafe from college and then haphazardly put on your apron before rushing in to take over Hoseok who was now late for his class and angry at you. You couldn’t help it though, Hoseok wasn’t the only person with important classes. You weren’t the only worker at the cafe but Hoseok only trusted a handful of people to run the cafe while he wasn’t there and unfortunately, you were one of them. You had just closed and you were so glad to be closed you just sat there and stared into the void. The other two workers just clocked out after cleaning and now all you were left to do was count the registers, close all of the machines, lock everything up and hope you don’t die during the process.

You were still staring into nothing when a voice spoke up. “Rough night?” You jumped so quickly that you hit your foot on a table leg. “Sorry, we’re closed.” You let out through a wince while you held onto your foot, hopping around stupidly. The voice which you now recognise as a very attractive man had chuckled at your pain before running a hand through his hair. “You don’t usually work nights, where’s Taehyung?” Under the impression that he was just looking for his friend, you gave him a friendly smile before replying. “He took an exchange program, he’s in Japan for a month. He didn’t tell you?” The boy shook his head before stepping a little closer. “We’re not that close. I’m Hoseok’s friend from dance and I come here often at night so Taehyung and I became acquainted.” You nodded, unsure of how to tell this very handsome man to get the fuck out because you didn’t want to die while walking home. “Well, it was nice meeting you…” “Jimin.” “Jimin. But we are actually closed and I need to lock-up so…” You drifted off while he stepped even closer, staring into your eyes with a cunning smile on his face. “Taehyung always made me coffee after he closed, my practices run pretty late.” You liked to think you were immune to charming men but this Jimin guy was something else. You couldn’t even bring yourself to reject him so you begrudgingly moved to get behind the coffee machine.

“So, how do you like your coffee?” You really hoped he wasn’t a black-coffee kind of person, if he was you might have had to kick him out. “Mocha, iced please.” Oh, a man of taste. You nodded before moving to make the drink though you had to admit you were weirdly motivated to make sure it was perfect. After it was done, you held out the cup to him and he took it with a smile, leaving a $10 note on the bench. “Wait, let me get your change.” He waved you off with a smirk. “Keep it.” He winked and you just stood in shock, trying to suppress the blood rushing to your cheeks. You were sure he was just being friendly but he was super flirtatious about it and it left you flustered. You thought that would’ve been the end, he would walk out the door and you could finish closing in peace but he sat there, taking his phone out and scrolling through it as he sipped his drink.

“Um, Jimin-” He looked up at you and you weren’t exactly sure that you wanted him to leave, it wouldn’t hurt if he just stayed while you closed, right? He sure was a sight for sore eyes and boy were your eyes sore. “Yeah?” You just shook your head quickly while picking up the money tray from the register. “Never-mind.” You quickly walked to the office before you could somehow manage to embarrass yourself further.

After counting the register, turning off all the machines and cleaning whatever wasn’t clean yet, you were finally done with your close and it was 9:50. Not your proudest record. Throughout the entire process, you had developed a routine with Jimin. You stare at him, he looks at you, smiles and you foolishly try to pretend you weren’t staring in the first place; vice versa. He stayed there the entire time and you wondered why he did, he finished his drink in the first 20 minutes.

“Hey, I’m leaving now so you really need to go, sorry.” He nodded and you unlocked the door, opening it for him so he could leave while you locked it again the moment you got outside. “You’re not walking home, are you?” Jimin asked, looking back at you while he put his motorcycle helmet on. You wondered if you were just imagining this, he seemed like he was straight out of a movie and you were definitely finding it suspicious. Maybe he was just a figment of your imagination. “No, my roommate’s picking me up.” You lied. Your roommate is in fucking Japan while you’re stuck covering his shifts. You weren’t sure why you lied but the idea of having a stranger take you home just made you shiver, even if the stranger was insanely handsome. Part of you argued that you wouldn’t mind being murdered at the hands of this man but the rational part argued that you had a pet fish to feed.

He nodded before hopping on his motorcycle and driving away, you waited till he turned onto another street before you began walking home. The walk home wasn’t that bad except for your constant paranoia. You kept looking over your shoulder and walked extremely close to walls. Eventually, you made it and in one piece too. “Hey, Gary.” Yes, you named your fish Gary because he was pink like Gary from SpongeBob and you’re not that creative. You jumped onto your bed before looking at the time and hoping that Taehyung would be awake so you could FaceTime him. “Good morning!” You scrunched your face at his perky attitude, your time zones seemed to clash horribly. “Who’s Jimin?” Taehyung’s face morphed into a teasing one before he jumped onto his bed, hand under his chin with a suggestive smile on his face. “Why, does someone have a crush?” You glared and he laughed at your lack of amusement, you began to wonder why you called him in the first place. “No, but apparently now I have to serve him coffee after we close thanks to the legacy you left behind.” Taehyung chuckled at what you said but paid it no mind, adamant on telling you all about his first few days in Japan.

“And then she has the audacity, to tell me that I didn’t use soy milk? I was fuming it was just- Y/N are you even listening?” You broke out of your trance after Jin had given you a shake. “Pay attention to me!” It was time for you to take over Jin’s shift but Jin had stayed back to tell you about an annoying customer. Eventually, after Jin had ranted about everything he could possibly think of, he left and you were on your own with 3 other employees for the next 7 hours. Fun.

Once you had closed, you were on your own once again to finish things off and almost like clockwork, Jimin showed up. You closed at 10pm today, it was a Saturday and you were extremely busy. This also meant that closing the store took longer than you’d hoped. Jimin stayed the entire time though and your heart couldn’t help but jump at the idea that he was staying for you.

Once it was time to lock-up, Jimin went outside and leaned on his motorbike, not yet getting on it. “You’re not leaving?” You asked nervously. The last thing you needed was for him to figure out you were lying about being picked up. “I’ll wait for you to get picked up, it’s pretty late.” You nodded absentmindedly, trying to think of a way out of the awkward predicament you had stumbled into. You waited for about 20 minutes. You thought of calling an uber but paying $20 for what could just be a 10-minute walk seemed stupid. “Y/N, you’re not getting picked up, are you?” Jimin gave you a smirk, his head cocked to the side with an amused look on his face and you sighed, you were caught. You shook your head and he chuckled, opening the storage compartment of his motorbike and fishing out a spare helmet.

“You don’t have to take me home, it’s a really short walk!” You tried to reason but he was already making his way to you. He put the helmet on your head, clasping it shut under your chin. His hands felt smooth on your skin and you couldn’t help but yearn for the feeling once it was gone. “I’d be damned if I let you walk alone at this hour.” He got on, waiting for you to join him but all you did was gulp. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust him, he had been coming every night for a solid 2-weeks and you had gotten pretty friendly. It was simply because you were absolutely horrified of motorcycles. They were practically death machines. There was a reason you didn’t drive yourself everywhere. The idea of controlling an entire vehicle terrified you because frankly enough you had trouble navigating yourself as is. “You’re not scared of motorcycles, right?” He said it with a teasing smile and the tone of his voice didn’t sit well with you. “If you’re implying that I’m a pussy, Park, then no, I’m not.” You begrudgingly got onto the bike behind him.

“You look like you saw a ghost.” You had finally arrived at your apartment and you could have sworn it felt longer than 5 minutes. “Yeah, my own. How do you drive this thing? We nearly died like 11 times.” He chuckled but didn’t humour your fears. “You’re more likely to die walking home alone at night than on my bike, Y/N.” You scoffed, removing the helmet and (slowly) getting off the bike. “I’ll see you in the afterlife then.” You were about to walk up to your apartment before there was a halt in your step. You turned around to face Jimin and gave him a genuine smile. “Thank you.” He smiled back and waved. He got off the bike to put your helmet back and before you knew it he was gone.

“Taehyung, I hate you.” He grinned at the screen, undeterred by your negative behaviour. You had been mad at him ever since you found out he went to Disneyland in Tokyo without you. “iTs jUsT fOr ScHoOL I sWeAr.” You mocked him and this time he showed offence. “What about that time you snuck out and didn’t tell me?” You raked your mind for when you could have ever done that before gasping in shock. “You mean when I snuck out to the fucking dentist because you were sick and wouldn’t let me leave? How is that-” Your phone made a notification sound from its position on your bedside table. You reached over to grab it and your scowl quickly turned into a smile. “Damn, who’s the god who got mighty Y/N all smiley?” You looked at him through the camera screen and he could almost feel your glare burning holes into his soul. “Jimin. That’s right, I stole your coffee friend.” Taehyung cocked his eyebrow before leaning closer to the camera screen with a suggestive smile. “May I enquire for some more information, kind sir?” You put your phone down after replying, leaning down in the same position as Taehyung and giving him a polite smile. “I’m sorry, you cannot.”

After Taehyung had pointed out your smile, you had realised you might’ve gotten too giddy. You began combing through every interaction you had with Jimin over the past 2-weeks and you realised, by the end of it that you definitely had a huge undeniable crush on Jimin. Fuck. You were now inevitably screwed. You were sure he couldn’t possibly like you back. It was simply unrealistic. You tried to talk yourself out of it, write yourself out of it, hell, you even meditated for 20 minutes but to no avail. You fell for the annoyingly charming boy you swore you wouldn’t fall for.

You were looking outside the glass doors, searching for a certain blonde. It had been the fifth day in a row that Jimin hadn’t shown up to the coffee shop. He’d been really dry with his text messages too and you were getting worried. Did you do something stupid to scare him away? You were getting ready to leave, locking the doors when you heard a motorcycle drive up. When he took his helmet off, your eyes locking for an incredibly long 6 seconds, you realised he was no longer blonde. “Your hair is black!” He chuckled lightly, ruffling said hair cutely. “Hello to you too.” Your smile quickly fell when you remembered that he’d been low-key avoiding you and Jimin noticed. “I had a dance performance. It was in South Korea and it charged me like $2 for every text.” He smiled bashfully and you could almost feel your heart turn into liquid. “If you had an iPhone then this wouldn’t have been a problem.” You always shamelessly mocked him for his android and he genuinely missed it.

He got off his bike, only to take out the godforsaken helmet you grew to hate. “No. Absolutely not.” He gave you a longing look, holding it out to you. You cursed yourself and your inability to reject this godly man. “Please, I want to take you somewhere.” Your eyebrows cocked up in curiosity, you had to go now. You grabbed the helmet from his hands, putting it on unenthusiastically. Jimin held out his hand to help you get on the bike and once you did, you held onto him for dear life. “Y/N, we’re not even moving yet.” He let out through breathy laughs and you contemplated on what to say next. “I know, I just missed you.” You couldn’t see it but Jimin’s face broke out into a beaming smile, and if you looked really hard you could probably see him blush. “I missed you too. But mostly your coffee.” Before you could reply he had started the engine and you were scared into silence.

You had no idea where he was taking you, it seemed almost comical to think about how literally 3-weeks ago you suspected this man to be a cunning murderer and now you were on his motorcycle with an unknown destination. You reached a building somewhere in the city and you wondered if he was taking you to his apartment. “Are you going to murder me?” He paid you no mind, parking his bike and helping you get off. He held your hand to guide you in and you ended up walking at least 10 flights of stairs. “Jimin, if your plan was to exhaust me so you could kill me, you would’ve been good like 7 floors ago.” You heard him laugh but once you got to the very top floor, he opened a large exit door. “Welcome to my special place.” It was a rooftop and the view was extremely incredible. You didn’t say anything, just stared in hopes of burning this view into your memory forever. You ran to the very edge excitedly, leaning against it, Jimin walking behind you. “The view is so beautiful.” “Yeah, it is.” Perhaps if you had looked back, you would have noticed Jimin wasn’t staring at the view, he was staring right at you.

“Thanks for sharing this with me.” You said, still in awe at the view. You had been standing there for about 10 minutes when Jimin put his hand over yours, intertwining them casually. You turned to him but he wasn’t looking at you and you wondered if this was something he did with all his friends. Suddenly, you didn’t feel as happy as you initially did coming up here and evidently, you were not that good at hiding it. “Y/N, what’s wrong?” You shook your head quickly, waving him off and muttering a quiet ‘nothing’. He clearly wasn’t buying it though and forced you to turn around and face him. “Do you want me to take you home?” You shook your head again, scolding yourself for letting your feelings get this out of hand. “Nothing is wrong, I promise.” You were almost sure he wasn’t believing a thing that came out of your mouth and you were unsure how to dig yourself out of the hole you made.

“I like you, Jimin. And, I guess I was a little upset because you don’t like me back but it’s okay I-” He pulled you extremely close to him, hand snugly holding your cheek. You stopped talking immediately at the close proximity, a little too stunned to even think. “I think the coffee fried your brain, baby.” You looked a little taken aback, too focused on the insult to notice the pet name. Before you could think of a witty reply, his gorgeous lips were on yours and it felt euphoric. There were fireworks going off in your head and if this was a movie you were sure it would start heavily raining and some cheesy song would start playing. However, this wasn’t a movie. This extremely attractive, charming, sweet, extremely out-of-your-league man was kissing you and it was real(?) “I like you too, you moron.”

#jimin #jimin fluff #jimin fanfic #jimin oneshot #bts #bts fic #bts scenarios #bts fanfics #bts imagines #anon please enjoy!

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andinewton · 4 years

Text

Three Times There Was Mistletoe... Gavin/MC MLQC

Fandom: MLQC

Pairing: Gavin/MC

Genre: Absolutely fluffy

Summary: Gavin is starring on a live show on Christmas Eve, but mistletoe keeps mysteriously appearing on set.

Authors Note: I am soooo sorry it took me so long to reread this and post, it has honestly been a shitshow of a week (more but who’s counting?) Anyway, I hope it was worth the wait!

Over the last two months you had been compiling pieces on staying safe over the festive season, from not leaving gifts on display in your home and vehicle, to maintaining control of your senses during the many seasonal parties that seemed to invade everyone’s life for one month of the year. Gavin had been a hit, as always, and all that remained this Christmas Eve was to film the live closing segment with the host. The final show would end with the set looking like a cosy living room, the lighting warm and inviting, the tree sparkling enough to brighten the lowest of moods. Both Gavin and the host were wearing suits, adding to the festive atmosphere, and more than one of the staff had mentioned they would gladly find Loveland’s finest officer wearing nothing but a gift bow under their tree the next morning. And you were no exception.

You and Gavin were close friends, but that was all it was, much to your disappointment. You knew that you would rather have this than nothing with him, but how much you liked him was really becoming a bit of a hindrance. You sighed as they carried out a lighting check on Gavin and the host, standing side by side, having already checked it while sitting in the overstuffed chairs either side of the tree, when an elbow landed on your shoulder so suddenly it was enough to make you jump.

‘Doesn’t he look handsome, boss?’ Minor asked, tilting his head to one side as he regarded Gavin.

‘He always looks handsome.’ You replied automatically, before straightening yourself and clearing your throat. ‘But he hates dressing up. I hope he relaxes somewhat before go time.’

‘He’ll be fine.’ Minor waved his hand dismissively. ‘But it looks like they need you.’ He indicated to where Kiki was waving at you from beside Gavin while holding his cuff.

‘No rest and all that.’ You smiled at Minor before stepping onto the set. ‘What’s up, Kiki?’

‘Does this cuff look marked to you?’ She asked, pulling Gavin’s arm towards your face.

‘I can’t see anything.’ You replied. ‘Are you sure?’

‘Maybe take a closer look, with more direct light. When he moves a certain way it’s like there’s a stain.’

‘Okay, let me see. Do you mind, Gavin?’

He cleared his throat as you rested the side of his hand in your palm and moved your face closer. ‘Not at all.’

‘I think it might be part of the material.’ You murmured thoughtfully. ‘Let’s go take a closer look.’ A nearby table held a small spotlight and you directed it downwards to help you look. ‘It seems okay, must just be a trick of the light.’

‘Hey, boss?’ You looked up at the sound of Minor’s voice questioningly, finding him pointing upwards. You frowned and looked up, finding a sprig of mistletoe hung from one of the rigs.

‘Oh!’ You exclaimed, eyes going wide as your cheeks flushed pink.

‘What is…oh.’ Gavin echoed your sentiment as he followed your gaze.

‘It’s just a bit of traditional fun.’ Anna remarked as she passed you.

‘We don’t have time for traditional fun.’ You called after her. ‘We’re live on air in three hours!’

‘Can you rain-check mistletoe?’ Kiki asked Minor loud enough for everyone to hear.

‘No time!’ You yelled, releasing Gavin’s hand and hoping he couldn’t see how red your face was. ‘The sleeve is fine! Places everyone, let’s run it one more time!’

The cast and crew had one last break before air time and you took advantage by finding a quiet corner to sit in. It had been full on all month and you were looking forward to a few days break, but the day wasn’t over yet. After filming was finished and everything closed down the whole crew were going out for drinks, as you would be finished earlier than a normal work day. It was the final thing you had to do before you could go home and climb into your pyjamas.

‘Are you hiding?’

You glanced up to see Gavin offering you a cup of coffee, which you took with a grateful smile. ‘Not hiding, more stealing a few minutes to mentally regroup.’

‘May I?’ He pointed beside you and you budged a little to allow him space on top of the equipment box. ‘I wanted to thank you.’

‘Thank me?’ You frowned. ‘For what?’

‘For convincing me to do this.’ He waved his hand at the studio in general. ‘It’s been more rewarding than I thought it would.’

‘Not all TV people are shallow and vapid.’ You smiled and his eyebrows quickly knitted together.

‘I didn’t think that about you for a second.’

‘No, but as a group it’s easy to see why it would seem that way.’ You blew across the top of your coffee. ‘And if we’re in a thankful place, then I want to give them to you. You’ve really helped us, and me, out and I’m so grateful.’

‘Call it even?’ He smiled slightly.

‘Deal.’ You nodded.

‘Hey, Gavin!’ You both turned to see Minor eating a sandwich some distance away. ‘I’m starting to think you’re doing that on purpose.’ He looked up above you which drew both of your eyes, yet again, to a sprig of mistletoe.

‘Get out of here!’ Gavin yelled at him, and he left, laughing to himself as the tips of Gavin’s ears turned bright red. ‘He can be so annoying.’ He muttered apologetically.

‘He knows his stuff though.’ You shrugged, casting a glance at your watch. ‘I have to get back to it, but thanks for the coffee.’

‘No problem.’ He replied, sighing as he watched you walked away.

‘And we’re out! That’s a wrap!’

Cheers went up as the director confirmed you were off air and a weight seemed to lift from your shoulders. Once everything was finished here you were officially done! You joined everyone in the self-congratulations and began overseeing the packing up.

Gavin quickly removed his tie and stuffed it in his pocket, undoing the top two buttons of his shirt with relief. He hated how restrictive they were. His eyes automatically sought you out, finding you helping the assistant director, and knew you would be busy for a while yet. Should he say goodbye? Wait until you were finished? He decided to wait. It was fairly dark already and he wanted to be sure you had a safe way home.

‘Good work out there, Gavin.’ Minor remarked as he approached him.

‘Thanks.’ He replied, finally tearing his eyes from you.

‘Do you have plans after this?’

Gavin narrowed his eyes. ‘Why? What did you have in mind?’

‘Not much.’ Minor shrugged. ‘We’re all going out for holiday drinks, celebrating the end of work. You should come.’

‘I don’t know.’ Gavin shifted his feet. ‘I’ll have to see.’

‘She’s gonna be there.’ Minor nodded towards you, just marginally, but Gavin knew who he meant. ‘You should escort her.’

‘Me? I mean, I can go with you, but I don’t think she needs an escort.’

‘It’s not if she needs one, but that she might want one.’ Minor leant in conspiratorially. ‘Up to you, though.’ He shrugged again and walked away, pretty sure he had Gavin convinced.

Gavin stood and thought for a moment, watching you laugh at something the assistant director said. No. He would go along, even if it was just to keep an eye on you.

Finally! You thought as you looked at the now empty space. It hadn’t taken too long and now you just had to dismiss the crew.

‘That’s it, everyone! Meet at the bar, first round is on me!’ Another cheer went up and everyone began filing out as you flicked off the lights, which was when you realised Gavin was standing on his own to one side, leaning on the wall with his arms folded. ‘Hey, I didn’t realise you were still here.’ You smiled as you headed over to him, around the chattering crowd as they left.

‘I wouldn’t leave without saying goodbye.’ He straightened his stance and unfolded his arms, wanting to be more approachable, not that that had ever stopped you before.

‘I’m glad.’ You smiled up at him. ‘Do you want to come with us?’ You asked hesitantly.

‘I’d like that. If I’m not intruding.’

‘You’re more than welcome.’ You held your hands behind your back for the sake of something to do with them. ‘Everyone deserves tonight though, they’ve worked so hard, and that includes you. This show wouldn’t be the success it has been without Officer Gavin.’

Gavin’s cheeks heated up at your praise but he cleared his throat and tried to shake it off. ‘Are you really buying everyone a drink? Because there’s a lot of people.’

‘They’re worth it. I want them to know how grateful I am to have them on board.’

‘They’re grateful to you too.’ He replied as you edged forward behind everyone else.

‘Hey, Gavin!’ Minor yelled from near the door, and you both looked over. ‘Don’t forget, as you leave!’ Minor tapped a sprig of mistletoe now hanging over the doorway that hadn’t been there before.

Your eyes went wide as you looked down and tried to hide your embarrassment, Gavin rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly as he found the wall very interesting all of a sudden.

‘He’s doing this on purpose.’ Gavin muttered to himself, vowing to take down the mistletoe just as soon as he reached it. He and Minor would be having words later, that was for sure. He looked around to explain, but you were no longer there, having disappeared into the darkness while he wasn’t looking.

You got to the bar a little after everyone else, having busied yourself with absolutely nothing, but needing a little space and time to calm your heavily beating heart and your confused head. You and Gavin had been dancing around one another’s feelings for some time and he showed no sign of making a move. Maybe it was all in your imagination, you thought there was something more between you other than attending the same school and running into danger, but now you were uncertain. Sure, Minor, and half of your staff, had made it clear that they thought all you both needed was a little push, but these mistletoe incidents might have been more of a shove. You would rather have Gavin as a friend than nothing at all and, at this rate, they would alienate him from you entirely. You straightened your hair, hoping it looked alright, before opening the door, a wall of sound and light hitting you hard as you plastered a smile on your face.

‘We thought you got lost.’ Anna remarked as she passed you a glass of wine.

‘I thought about it.’ You replied as she clinked her glass against yours.

‘Oh no, no backing out. Just talk to him. He’s only here because you said you would be, and he’s nursing a glass of coke at the end of the bar like he’s been stood up by his best girl.’ She nodded in Gavin’s direction, just in case you hadn’t noticed him, sitting with one elbow on the bar, his chin on his hand.

‘It’s not like that.’ You rolled your eyes as you made your way across the room towards Gavin, wanting to let him know you were here.

‘Sure it’s not.’ Anna muttered.

‘Hey.’ You said just loud enough to be heard over the raucous sounds of your staff enjoying themselves.

Gavin turned on the stool to face you, smiling softly. He had known you were here but didn’t know if you had been scared off by the antics of your coworkers. He didn’t want you scared off, truth be told he wanted to be closer, he just had to be brave enough to take the next step. He had never considered himself a coward until you came back into his life. ‘All okay?’

‘Yeah, I just had to…uh…check all the doors were locked at the studio.’

‘And were they?’

‘Yep, all ship shape and secure!’ You exclaimed brightly. Ship shape?! You had never used that phrase before in your life! Why did you lose your cool so easily when you were around him? Okay, that was rhetorical, you knew precisely why.

‘Good.’ He laughed. ‘And you’ve got a drink already.’

You nodded. ‘Anna got me as soon as I came through the door. So, cheers.’

‘Cheers.’ He raised his glass to yours and you each took a drink.

An awkward not-quite silence fell over you both as you tried to think of something to say, anything…well, okay, not something awkward but something. Thankfully, Gavin thought of something, and it wasn’t something you would have thought of in a million years.

‘You want to dance?’

You blinked twice before you processed the question, unsure if you had heard him properly, before rapidly blurting a reply to his hopeful expression. ‘Yes! Sure! I’d like that!’

‘Great.’ He got off the stool as you cringed at your overenthusiastic answer. He didn’t seem to notice however, and took your hand, leading you carefully through your exuberant coworkers who had created a makeshift dance floor in the middle of the room by moving some tables aside. He turned and took both of your hands, resting them on his shoulders before placing his own on your waist. ‘Is this okay?’ He asked, and all you could do was nod. ‘Good.’

He started you moving slowly, still in time with the beat yet far too slow for the tempo, but it worked. You danced in silence for two full songs, neither of you seeming to know what to say, as though you were caught in some sort of spell that neither of you wanted to break. The nearness, the heat from your bodies, your hearts fluttering at the heady combination.

‘Heeeeeeey, Gaaavviiiiinnn!!!!’ You both stopped and looked to the sound of the voice, one rosey cheeked and obviously drunk Minor, standing on a table and waving his half empty glass around.

Gavin cleared his throat and fixed Minor with a glare that would normally have had him squirming and apologising, but not with the amount of liquid courage he had so far imbibed. ‘What, Minor?’

‘You wasted all those mistletoes! Why didn’t you kiss her?’

Suddenly you were aware of every eye in the bar on you. It wasn’t quite silent with the background music, but enough to make a difference. Now you were blushing for an entirely different reason. You took your hands from Gavin and took a step back as you looked at your feet. You had wondered as much yourself, but it wasn’t something you would consider forcing Gavin into doing for the sake of tradition if it really made him uncomfortable.

You saw Gavin take a breath in your peripheral vision, you assumed to yell at Minor to mind his own damned business, but his reply had your head shoot up to stare at him. ‘I don’t need mistletoe to kiss the woman I love.’

Before you could open your mouth to ask what Gavin meant, his hand caressed your cheek and tilted your face up to his. You couldn’t have moved even if you wanted to, the gentle look in Gavin’s eyes as his lips approached yours drew you in, and before you knew it your eyes drifted closed expectantly. The kiss was tender and gentle, nothing more than a simple press of lips, but it went on for more heartbeats than you could count. Your pulse pounded loudly in your ears, blotting out everything around you. You had never realised that such a small gesture could fill your every sense, but here you were, completely under the spell that Gavin’s lips had cast upon you.

Gavin finally parted from you, brushing your scorched cheek with his knuckles, his eyes studying you carefully, which was when the sound around you came rushing back in. Whoops and cheers, led by Minor, of course, but it felt like every patron was suddenly invested in the scene before them.

You dropped your head in embarrassment once more, but this time Gavin wrapped an arm around you and pulled you to him protectively. ‘You want to go somewhere quieter we can talk?’

You nodded and Gavin began to lead you towards the exit, while Minor continued to heckle, but not for long. Just as Gavin opened the door a freak wind blew through, knocking Minor’s legs out from under him and sending him tumbling to the floor inelegantly.

The last thing you heard as you left was Minor’s laughing reply.

‘Worth it!’

#mlqc #mlqc fic #mlqc gavin #christmas fluff #minor is a little shit #everyone ships it

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simonlovelazy · 4 years

Text

Unknown/MC (mysme)

Title: Bite the Bullet

Fandom: Mystic Messenger

Pairing: Unknown(Saeran)/MC

Tags: Mature (graphic description of death, sexual innuendos), contract killer AU

Word count: 2485

Summary: Some people have more reasons to complain about their job than others.

Written for @unknownzine Once again thank you for the opportunity, beta reading and all the patience!! With each turn, he wandered farther from the noise of the main street, and deeper into the forgotten parts of the city. The light from the scarce street lamps glided over the puddles and shook under his heavy boots. No one passed next to him in the narrow alleys, but he knew he wasn’t alone. Maybe this was what the prospective believers felt when he was running the “background check” on them – the intangible impression that a pair of eyes was fixed on their every movement, the rising sense of panic as they felt the phantom of his breath on their necks. But with the subtle difference that he couldn’t be more unfazed. “It’s a good place, don’t you think?” Unknown said, turning lazily. And there she was, his shadow, with her little mouth wide open in shock. Her hands, in turn, they didn’t even budge, the gun steady in their clasp. Unknown had to admit he was a bit surprised too – that a frail thing like that could have a reason and the nerve to try to eliminate him.

“Not much of a talker, huh? Or are you scared of me?” Carefully leaving the blind spot, and making sure his face was not exposed, he edged closer to her. The girl stood firmly with her gun still pointed at his head. Interesting. “I like it here because it never feels alone, you know?” She visibly faltered, but wouldn’t look away from him. He wasn’t dealing with a complete newbie. “Cameras. It’s the back of a pawn shop, after all.” Recognition lit up her eyes, and she peeked behind him, just to find the ruthless lens staring straight at her. He towered before her after closing the remaining distance in one leap. His one hand grabbed her chin in a way far from affectionate, while the other dismissively pushed the silencer aside. “You can’t shoot me here, sweetheart,” Unknown whispered in her ear. She yelped in surprise when he yanked the gun completely out of her grasp, twisting her wrist in the process. And he didn’t stop there, having tucked her pistol next to his own, he continued squeezing her bones even tighter, just for emphasis. “Give me one reason why I should let you live.” “It’s n-not personal.” Oh? Difficulties speaking with your jaw crushed? “Let me go, and I’ll tell them I finished the job. That you’re dead. Just lie low for some time,” she continued despite his increasingly apparent amusement. “Okay, listen, I know who’s next.” Lies, lies, lies. It’s even cute, in a way. She really thinks she can get away with this. “Who sent you?” Another squeeze. “I never met him directly. All I got was your photo, the date, and the place; all delivered to me by some unimportant minion.” “Do you think I’m stupid? They told you about other targets, but you conveniently don’t even know who you’re working for?!” “I don’t work for any organisation, but I do have ears, and I can put two and two together.” “That’s even better. It means no one’s gonna miss you.” There was a squeak, followed by the sound of metal slamming against the brick wall. “Hey, kids! Why are you snooping around in here? Get out!” All Unknown got to do was to rearrange his hold on the girl in a less suspicious way before he glared at the clerk standing in the door behind him. She stumbled back when he let her free. “I’d show you how it’s supposed to be done, but it’s not my call. We’ll go on a ride instead; I want you to meet someone.” “Are you serious?” “It’s really not the time to act like a princess,” her kidnapper hissed in annoyance. “I’ll kindly remind you that I have two guns, and you have none. Do you really think you’re in a position to make a fuss?” “But you can’t kill me, now can you? You still need to wait for your boss’ orders, sweetheart.” MC knew she was pushing her luck with him, and hell, he really did have two guns, but it was still worth a shot. He couldn’t do anything to her till they got there – wherever this “there” was – and the more information she gathered before that, the better. “I would be nicer to my future interrogator. And a bit more convincing – I don’t buy a word you’ve said so far.” There was no other addition, but a frown when he bent over the stick to cuff her. “So you just so happen to have handcuffs at hand. Wait, I see – you’re this type.” A stern warning lingered in his eyes. His hands were just as cold as they were in the alley, and not a tad more delicate. There was no point in fighting just yet. Soon, her hand hung limply from the handle at his car’s door as if she was trying to get some breeze under her armpits or whatnot. He reassumed his place behind the wheel, turning the key in the ignition. A little dice dangled from its end. Classy. “They weren’t meant for you.” MC smiled wickedly. “Ouch. That’s not what a girl wants to hear. You could at least pretend I’m special.” Her kidnapper turned to her quickly with a deadpan expression, before the car finally kicked in to the motion, and they left the parking lot with a crunch of gravel under the tyres. “Where are you taking me?” “You really don’t seem to get the situation, so I’ll spell this once more for you. You don’t get to ask questions.” He was squeezing the hell out of that wheel. “You’ve been following me for the whole day. Why?” MC looked down on the frills of her dress, trying to burn the whole thing with her stare. She had really gone through this dumb masquerade for nothing, didn’t she? “They said it’s 3 million wons extra for every detail about you. Where you go, who you’re meeting up with – things like that. I was supposed to wait with the rest of the job for the moment when you’re done in the city.” She could no longer recognise the landscape blurring behind him in the car window. He slowly shook his head, “It means they don’t even kno —” The momentary chaos was all too familiar – a gunshot and a jolt when the bullet pierced through the bodywork startling the driver, who almost lost control of the vehicle. MC lurched forward on instinct, tugging painfully at her right wrist. Obviously, it would still be too late to save her, had the shot been accurate. Not that she was the target. “Who are they?!” Her kidnapper’s voice was unusually high-pitched. She glanced briefly at him – and, wow, he got paler, if that was even physically possible. Then, sitting up a bit, she checked the wing mirror. A black, shiny beast – at least two classes better than their car – right on their tail, with a barrel sticking out from the driver’s side. “No clue! Gimmie my gun back!” “So that you can finish your job? No fucking way! I will lose them.” He stepped on the gas. “It’s just one guy, and he’s also driving – I can handle him. Just give me the gun already! It’s our best shot!” MC was jolted against the door as the car turned, screeching in the last moment. Getting herself in place again, she fastened the seatbelt, going below her hanging arm. The good thing was that the streets were unusually busy for this hour, the bad thing – well, their excuse of a car wasn’t exactly a racer. “How do they know I’m still alive?” her driver yelled over the engine, weaving between the cars. MC scratched her chin absently. “They could send someone to check on me, but it only happens when... just who the hell are you?” “Maybe you’ll live long enough to find out.” The way he said it, there could be a hint of a sardonic smile under his mask, but, really, there was no way of knowing. “Well,” MC started, looking behind, but there was no shooter to be seen. “The money they offered for you seemed a bit too good to be true. Or easy.” “Was it worth it?” “Let’s say I’m having second thoughts right now.” “Shit.” It was almost too late when he noticed the side road. The sharp turn didn’t send her flying like the last time, but the car skidded on the slippery surface, nearly crashing into the pick-up on the adjacent lane. The loud thudding of MC’s heartbeat accompanied the honking of the annoyed driver they left behind. Reckless as it was, it seemed that the sudden change of the route did the trick. They had been driving for at least 15 minutes without anyone trying to shoot them. Having got out of immediate danger, MC started to consider her options regarding the danger seated next to her. He turned into another desolate, outgrown road with determination that led her to believe that the meeting point with his boss was closer than she’d like. “We’re out of petrol.” Her kidnapper announced in disbelief. “That bastard must’ve got the fuel tank.” “How much more?” “Nothing. We’re running on fumes.” MC closed her eyes and put all the irritation that had built-up in the last 24 hours into a solid kick on the dashboard. He merely eyed the muddy footprint adorning his glove box. And then, the car stopped. The palms of his hands banged on the wheel as he exhaled heavily. He took the keys out and left without a word. MC opened the door on her side and straightened her back with a groan. It was dawning already; the plane of navy blue shyly paled on the horizon. There was nothing around except for the waist-high grass smothering the road from the both sides. And no one in sight. “Hey! Didn’t you forget about something?” She jingled her handcuffs. The kidnapper had already managed to walk away quite a bit down the road. “No, I don’t think so,” he replied, without slowing down. She cursed under her breath, looking around for anything to pick the lock with. But even if she found it, she still had no car keys, no clue where she was... “Wait! I know who’s next! And more things too!” If he said anything, she couldn’t hear it. “They said that when they’re done with you, they just have to deal with ‘the other one.’” With one foot on the asphalt and the other one pushing at the door, MC tried to rip off the handle in the final act of desperation. She turned her head to gauge his reaction. “Does it mean anything to you?” All she could notice from that distance was that he was facing her, motionless in the middle of the road. One quick movement of his hand, and the mask fell to the ground. He rubbed his face as if he were trying to wake up. But suddenly, something came over him, and he was running back in her direction. It took one glance behind her back to realise why he was in a rush. The hitman was back. “Hurry up! Faster!” Her kidnapper-turned-saviour was next to her in no time. “Shit. Shit.” He was visibly struggling with the little key. “Don’t think it changes anything between us. You’re still going to the questioning.” “Can’t wait." The car was getting so close, they could hear it roaring. There was no time to lose, but something with the lock was clearly off. It was an odd moment for an even weirder thought, the guy without his mask looked much younger than she had initially suspected him to be. He simply didn't belong here. Someone shut the door mere steps away from them. They were shielded by their own door, and now it was really a matter of seconds; he froze when MC snuggled against his torso, reached behind his belt, pulled the gun out, and leaning out of the cover, fired three silent shots. The man fell to the ground in an instant. She came up to the body as close as the handcuffs let her. About 35 years old, average-looking. She’d never seen him before. Two wounds – one in the shoulder, another in his neck. She could have done better, but it wasn’t half bad for a right-handed person under pressure. “Why?” MC took her eyes off the corpse. Her kidnapper leant against the side of his car. His dilated pupils were glued to her with a sense of restlessness. “Why did you do that?” When he spoke, there was a miniscule quiver to his lips. “Would you rather have him kill both of us, or...?” It was his first body. This discovery was surprising, considering how he’d been trying to intimidate her this whole time. He nervously grimaced. They were holding each other at gunpoint. Would he really be able to pull the trigger? "They will come searching for you,” he stated. “Not if I finish the job now.” “Don’t,” he said quickly, “you can work for me.” She couldn’t help but laugh. “What can you offer me? Health insurance? Early retirement?” “The person that hired you is one of the most powerful people in this country. And he already knows that you failed once.” He motioned to the steady trickle of blood seeping from the corpse and running downhill. “Do you really think he’ll take a chance that you haven’t made a deal with me?” Unbelievable. “So, what’s the offer?” “We can help each other. I could make use of your personal... talents, and in return, you will be more than safe in Mint Eye.” He stiffened when she moved her gun and put it back in its place. MC stretched out her left hand, “Deal.” He shook it with an enigmatic smile. "What are we doing about him?” “Well, no one is going to look for him, I can guarantee you this. My bullets are untraceable, but the car...” “That won’t be a problem,” he said, taking out his phone. “We’re not that far from Mint Eye.” With the body happily pushed into the grass, they sat on the bonnet and waited for transport. The relief was unreal when MC rubbed the red marks on her wrist. That is, until her new boss tugged her other hand and clasped it together with his. “You can’t be serious.” “Easy, princess, it’s just a cover story for when they come here.” MC raised her eyebrows, “Kinky.” They stared for a while at the sun languidly making its way up above the fields of green. Both of them tired of this day beyond words. “What kind of job do you need me for anyway?” He dragged on his cigarette with an expression of utter seriousness. “You will be my personal assistant.”

#mystic messenger #mysme fanfic #saeran choi #saeran x mc #unknown mysme #mystic messenger ff #Unknown zine #please show up in tags for once #simonsaysread #saeran choi fanfic

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fantasyoverreality98 · 4 years

Text

Fight the Darkness: Epilogue

Masterlist

Pairing: Gaius x MC

Summary: A thousand years later, everyone reunites to celebrate the Dark Solstice.

Word Count: 4,649

---

“Come to me.”

The voice echoed through space and time, beckoning her.

Somewhere, in the Mediterranean Sea, an island remained. Darkness raged on, the streams ran black, what had once lived had decayed.

“This is your destiny. Amy, come to me.”

She tried to ignore the voice. It would not tempt her again. For over a thousand years, she had enjoyed silence. No worry over losing control had plagued her mind.

And yet she found herself sailing to Mydiea.

Something stirred deep within her. The power needed a vessel. It would perish if it spent any longer trapped on the island, unable to reach its full potential.

Amy was the Bloodkeeper. She was the descendant of The First. She would become the goddess of blood.

The moment she set foot on the island, she felt like she was complete.

This was it. This was always how it would end. This was fate.

“Amy? We’re here.”

With a jolt, Amy returned to the present. She tried to hide the way her body trembled, but Gaius saw through the act. He looked at her, concern reflected in his eyes as he took her hand in his.

“What is it?”

She shook her head, unable to stop from shaking. “I had another vision. It felt so real, it was like—” To finish the sentence felt like cementing this future.

Gaius waited for the plane to empty before he spoke again. “Are you certain that everything is okay? You seem to have gotten worse since we received the invitation to the Dark Solstice ball last month.”

A holographic figure approached, watching them with lifeless eyes. “Please exit the plane. Passengers are awaiting the next flight. The plane has to be empty within five minutes.”

Sighing, Amy stood up, grabbing her carry-on bag as she made her way down the aisle. The hologram followed her and Gaius, repeating the message until they stepped off the plane. Shields immediately locked into place above their heads and on their sides, blocking the sunlight that streamed in through the glass.

“Why did they think putting those…things everywhere was a good idea? I much preferred the time when we had to deal with humans.” Gaius turned back to glare at the hologram one last time before focusing back on the current issue. “Where were we? Ah, yes. The visions. If you wish, we can get right back on a plane and return to Russia. I will support your decision.”

Amy smiled and reached for his hand. “You just want to leave, don’t you? How many times do I have to tell you that the chances of us dying are slim? It’s Christmas! Everyone has to put aside their differences and celebrate together.”

“They might make an exception for me.” His eyebrows drew together as he stared straight ahead.

The shields continued to lock into place until they’d reached the main building of the airport. Once they were out of harm’s way, the sunlight lit up the passenger boarding bridge again.

Looking up, Amy suddenly saw just how worried Gaius looked. “Hey, look at me.” She took his face in her hands and forced him to turn his head toward her. “We’re going to be fine. Okay? I would never let anything happen to you.”

For a thousand years, they had always had each other’s backs.

Trying to describe the connection they had would be next to impossible. Amy had found both her best friend and the person she wanted to spend eternity with, in Gaius. It was strange, the way someone could fall in love with someone who had once been their enemy.

There had been moments when they fought, of course there had. Some days she wanted to run back to New York to be with her friends. Other days Gaius had done questionable things, causing her to believe that perhaps that villain still lingered inside.

But the love they felt for each other always seemed to win.

“Have you told your friends that we’ve arrived?” Gaius leaned into her touch, his eyes remaining locked with hers.

Amy shook her head, running one of her hands through his hair. “Not yet. I figured we should get settled in at the hotel first. The ball isn’t until tomorrow night anyway. That gives us plenty of time to catch up.”

If she were honest, the idea of facing her friends with Gaius at her side terrified her. She had visited several times throughout the years, but he’d never come with her. Amy felt that his presence might add unnecessary tension whenever she traveled to New York.

“I just hope a thousand years has been enough time,” Gaius said, lines appearing between his eyebrows when he frowned.

With a smile, Amy reached up and smoothed them away, standing on her toes to press a gentle kiss to the spot. “You’re thinking about this way too much. Everything is going to be perfect.”

“It truly is remarkable how you managed to stay optimistic all these years.” Although there was a hint of sarcasm in his voice, he grinned, leaning down to kiss her.

Amy hummed under her breath, wrapping her arms around Gaius’ neck to pull him closer. People walked around them, some stopping to shoot dirty looks or simply to stare, but she ignored them all. The only one who mattered right now was the man she held in her arms.

When an announcement for passengers to board a flight came over the intercom, they pulled away. Both of them were smiling, and he laughed under his breath when a small child nearby made a sound of disgust after they shared one last kiss.

“Shall we?” Gaius rested his forehead against Amy’s, looking like he would rather stay in this spot all day.

Her lips twitched as she fought back a grin. “We shall.”

They held hands as they walked through the airport to the service desk for transportation.

After a thousand years, the lines between the worlds of vampires and humans were almost gone. Services designed just for vampires were everywhere, making it easier for them to travel during the day. The thought made Amy smile as she and Gaius waited for a taxi made specifically to block out any and all sunlight.

“As strange as it seems, I think Rheya might be happy to see how far we’ve come.” She almost laughed after saying the words. “At least, I think a small part of her would have liked it. Our kind is finally free.”

Crimes against vampires still happened, and some still mistrusted them, but the world had grown much safer. Most people didn’t care. Plenty of humans had treated her with kindness when they found out, the memory of the Irish town now a tiny detail of the past.

Gaius snorted. “Perhaps. In the beginning, she did want humans and vampires to exist peacefully alongside one another.” He pulled his suitcase closer when someone took a seat beside him, eyeing them a moment before looking back at her. “I’m glad I lived to see this day.”

“I’m glad I decided to let you live all those years ago.” She laughed when he glared at her and playfully nudged him with her elbow. “You know that I love you, don’t look at me like that.”

Before Gaius could respond, they were told that their ride had arrived. The vehicle waited in a parking garage, safely hidden away from the sunlight. Amy threw their luggage into the trunk before sliding into the backseat, Gaius following close behind.

As they sped down the busy streets, Amy reached across the seat and took Gaius’ hand. A smile tugged at her lips when he laced his fingers through hers, and she turned away to conceal a grin.

It had been nearly a decade since she’d visited New York. Screens floated in the air, the blinding lights that lit up every corner blocked by the special glass designed for the vehicle. She still wondered what kind of technology it took to make sun-proof windows that could protect vampires.

“What should we do until the sun sets?” Gaius asked.

Amy turned to look at him and smirked. Words weren’t needed.

“Well, if you insist.”

She threw her head back and laughed, the nerves and excitement building in the pit of her stomach. Finally, her friends would get to see Gaius again. For so long, she had waited for when the moment felt right. She just hoped they were capable of forgiving him.

Ten minutes later, they arrived at the hotel. The car parked close enough to the door that they could get inside without worrying about the sunlight. As the driver set their luggage down, he wished them well. Both of them returned the sentiment before turning to face the hotel entrance.

An incoming call made Amy’s phone vibrate, and she pulled it out to see Lily’s name light up the screen. “Hello?”

“Ames! Are you two here? I got a notification that your plane had landed.”

Grinning, Amy looked over at Gaius, who was beginning to look sickly. “Yeah, we just got to the hotel. What are you up to?”

While they got their room key, Amy stayed on the phone with Lily. She’d almost forgotten how much she missed her best friend. Almost.

Fifteen minutes later, the conversation finally came to an end. Amy hung up the phone and fell backward on the bed. The blankets almost swallowed her up, and she stared at the ceiling for a minute. It was crazy to think about how much had changed with the passage of time, and yet so much remained familiar.

“Are we to meet with them tonight?” Gaius asked, watching her from the other side of the room. His face was pale, the anxious way he looked at her almost cute, in a strange way.

Amy nodded, sitting up on her elbows. “Yes. You don’t have to come if you don’t want to,” she added when he tensed. “I’m sure they would understand.”

Truth be told, she still feared what would happen when her friends saw him again. Lily wasn’t the problem, she’d been surprisingly accepting of the fact that the two of them were together. But Adrian and Kamilah were a different story. They’d known the less pleasant side of him far longer than she ever had, and neither of them had spent much time with this part of him that wasn’t under Rheya’s influence.

“Are you certain?” It seemed as though her suggesting that he stay behind released most of the tension building up in his body, and Gaius relaxed, still watching her from across the room. “You would be okay with me staying here?”

She frowned, but nodded. “Whatever makes you feel the most comfortable. I only want what’s best for you.” Amy beckoned him toward her, reaching up to pull him down to her. “I love you,” she whispered.

Gaius rested his forehead against hers, and finally, finally, smiled. “I love you more.” He brushed his lips against hers, the gesture achingly gentle.

With a sigh, she pulled him down onto the bed on top of her. For a long time, they forgot about her friends.

By the time they finished, the sun was beginning to set. Traffic raged on outside as they lay tangled in each other’s arms. A smile tugged at Amy’s lips when Gaius kissed her shoulder, his arms wrapped around her.

“I hope you know that there’s no way you’re getting out of attending the celebration tomorrow,” she mumbled, turning her head to look back at him. “You have to face everyone eventually.”

“I know.” He sighed, focusing his stare at the window across the room. The blinds were shut tight, but a flicker of bright orange sunlight peeked through, leaving a thin line across the hotel floor.

Amy turned in his arms, placing her hands on his face. “If anyone tries to cause problems, I’ll break their face.”

Gaius laughed, reaching out to trace the curve of her cheek. “That seems rather excessive, but I appreciate the sentiment.”

“I mean it. If someone tries to do something, I won’t hesitate. But the Dark Solstice is about putting aside our differences.” Her face hurt from grinning, and she reluctantly slipped out of his embrace. “Well, I should probably get ready to meet up with them. You’ll be okay here?”

He nodded, watching from the bed as she got dressed.

A few minutes later, the sun had set, shrouding the room in darkness. The sounds of life continued outside, and Amy glanced at her phone when it began to vibrate.

Adrian.

Trying her best not to let her face betray her true feelings, she turned away from Gaius to answer the call.

“Hey, Adrian.” Her voice filled the quiet room.

For a moment, there was silence on the other end. She wasn’t sure whether that was something to worry about or not. Just before she could begin to panic, he answered. “Hi, Amy. Lily told me that you two landed a few hours ago. Are you joining us tonight?”

Amy glanced back at Gaius before moving to the bathroom. He would still hear, but she took comfort in the false sense of privacy. “It’s just going to be me tonight.”

“He will show up for the Dark Solstice, right?”

She chewed on her bottom lip, seriously considering taking Gaius up on his offer to hop on a plane back to Russia. “Yes. We will both be there. I promise.”

“Okay.” Adrian sighed, and she thought it might be out of relief. “I’ll see you soon.”

“See you.” She hung up and set the phone down on the counter, taking a deep breath as she stared at her reflection.

It was happening. In twenty-four hours, she would be at a mansion, Gaius at her side, facing dozens of vampires who probably still hated the man she loved. No amount of time would change certain people’s minds, and she could understand why. Still, her heart ached at the thought of them not giving him a real chance.

Amy liked to believe that somewhere, deep down, her friends were willing to give Gaius a chance. That they believed some goodness lived inside him. Why else would they let her leave with him so long ago?

Memories of that time flashed in her head, and Amy closed her eyes, trying to steady her breathing when she remembered all the pain and suffering she had caused.

It had been a long time since she thought about the darkness, but a part of it would always remain with her. Not enough to cause her to lose control again, but enough for her to never forget what had happened.

She would always miss Jax. She would always regret not being able to bring him back. But she would never give in to that temptation again.

When Amy emerged from the bathroom several minutes later, Gaius had gotten dressed. He sat at the foot of the bed, giving her a knowing look when their eyes met. Without a word, she walked over to him, shutting her eyes when she fell into his arms.

They held each other for a while, ignoring the bombardment of text messages that lit up her phone.

“Have you been having a lot of visions lately?” Gaius asked, brushing her hair out of her face.

Amy sighed, afraid to look him in the eyes. “Yes. They seem to be getting worse.”

Once, she would have hidden the truth from him.

But after a thousand years, she had come to realize that, sometimes, there is no harm in being honest.

“What have you seen?” His tone was gentle, but there was a hint of fear that lingered.

Silence settled between them before she gathered up the courage to speak. “The island calling me back. I’ve seen the world burned to ash, and the person responsible for it all is me.”

Every time, it was the same scenario. The call of the darkness beckoned to her, and she could no longer ignore it. Power of unimaginable proportions lay within her grasp.

All she had to do was return to Mydiea.

Amy had not dared to go near Greece since leaving with Gaius. She knew the power still existed, that it was just waiting for someone strong enough to wield it once more. She was the only one who could possess the power of the First, and that knowledge sent shivers down her spine. For as long as she lived, the world would always be at risk.

Neither of them spoke for a long time. When the phone calls and messages became too much to ignore, Amy reluctantly pulled away, knowing she had to go see Adrian, Kamilah, and Lily. They were waiting for her at Raines Corp.

“I have to go now,” Amy said, turning to face Gaius.

He nodded, smiling briefly when she leaned down to kiss him goodbye.

Five minutes later, she walked alone down the busy street.

Advertisements for the next Christmas blockbusters lit up the city, loud music making the air thrum with energy. Amy zipped her coat up, though the cold didn’t really bother her.

On the way, she felt the need to feed, and stopped to grab some blood as she continued down the street. After walking for a few more minutes, she came to a familiar building.

In a thousand years, surprisingly little had changed. The building had clearly undergone improvements, but it still resembled the one she had stood outside so many years ago. She thought of the very first day she had walked through these doors. If she’d known then what would happen, would she still have stepped inside?

A part of her didn’t think she would.

An excited squeal pierced the air, and Amy jumped when a body charged toward her. The fright dissolved into joy, and she laughed, returning the tight hug that Lily gave her. It felt great to be back with her friends.

“You’ve been away for way too long! Why don’t you come visit more often?” Lily refused to let go, and Amy grinned when she looked at Adrian and Kamilah, who watched the two friends with smiles.

“Maybe we’ll have to look into visiting more,” she said, feeling a bit sad that Gaius wasn’t with her for this.

Lily seemed to notice the dip in her mood, pulling back to look at Amy’s face. “Why didn’t Gaius want to come tonight? Honestly, I was kinda excited to see how things would play out. We haven’t seen him since—”

It wasn’t necessary to bring Greece up again. The four of them seemed to have an unspoken understanding. Talking about what had happened on Mydiea often brought back unpleasant memories.

Screams. Blood. Destruction.

“I think he’s just nervous. The people we’re supposed to celebrate the Dark Solstice with tomorrow all wanted him dead at one point. Some of them still do.” Amy knew that she would also be on their enemy lists because of her relationship with him.

Lily watched her, sympathy shining in her eyes. “I won’t let anything happen to you. Or him.” Her best friend smiled, reaching for her hand. “Now come on, we have so much to catch up on before the sun starts to rise.”

The two of them walked toward Adrian and Kamilah, preparing for a long night of reconnecting.

And for the first time since arriving back in New York, Amy’s worry about seeing her friends again faded away.

---

A large mansion loomed before them, and Amy slipped her fingers through Gaius’ as the two of them approached.

Curious gazes watched the couple make their way up the steps, a few sneers thrown their way enough to make both hesitate at the door.

“It is still not too late to make a run for it,” Gaius mumbled under his breath, watching Amy from the corner of his eye. “I will cover you while we run.”

She smiled and shook her head, turning to look at him. “We’ll be fine. I texted Lily that we were here. She should find us in a few minutes.”

A vampire glared at Gaius as they walked by her. Amy had no idea who it was, but based on the look of hatred she received next, she guessed it was someone who could not be considered a friend.

“Amy!” Lily’s voice drowned out the noise of vampires, and she burst through the crowd, pulling Amy into a hug. “I’m so glad you made it!” When she pulled away and turned to address Gaius, a slight bit of tension hung in the air. “Gaius.” Her lips twitched before she broke out in a grin. “It’s been a while, huh?”

He looked surprised to be greeted in such an informal way. “Yes…I guess it has. It is a pleasure to see you again.”

Neither seemed sure what to do, awkwardly staring at each other before Gaius bowed slightly. Amy snorted, turning her face away to hide the amused grin. She had a feeling it would be even worse when Adrian and Kamilah found them.

“Who invited him?” A voice rang out, the sneer present in the man’s tone.

“Great,” Gaius mumbled under his breath as the man approached, his hands clenched into fists.

Amy stepped forward, prepared to stay true to her promise of breaking the face of anyone who became a threat, when another voice made the rest of the room go quiet.

“Today is a day for putting aside our differences. Including Gaius.” The crowd parted, and Kamilah slowly made her way forward, head held high. “He was invited, Nathaniel. Now get out of my sight before I escort you out of here.”

Everyone immediately found other things to do, the party appearing to return to normal. But Amy could see the curious glances thrown their way. She sensed the tension in the air as people watched with bated breath.

The vampire known as Nathaniel grumbled something incomprehensible before he staggered away, shoving people out of his path. Once he had disappeared onto the mansion’s balcony, the attention shifted to the other three.

“I apologize for his behavior,” Kamilah said, addressing Gaius, though she kept her eyes averted. “Some people fail to understand the meaning of the Dark Solstice.”

Memories of a long-lost love reflected in Gaius’ eyes, and Amy had to turn away. She felt no jealousy, only a tinge of sadness. Of course he would still have feelings for Kamilah. The same thing happened when Rheya came up.

Thousands of years spent loving someone would never really disappear, even if that love had been corrupted.

“I understand.” When Gaius spoke, Amy looked back at him. He looked like he was trying his best not to smile. “Well, may I say, you look as lovely as ever.” Although the two words were unspoken, they still somehow managed to linger in the air.

My Queen.

Kamilah managed to bring herself to look at him, pain flashing across her face when their eyes met. The betrayal would always hang between them, no matter how much time passed.

“Why didn’t you go with Amy to see us last night? We were expecting to have some time before this to have a proper conversation.”

Guilt over not convincing him to come washed over Amy. She should have tried harder, told him that he had nothing to fear, but the idea of forcing him to do something he didn’t want to only served to remind her of how Rheya had treated him. And she would do everything in her power to make sure she never forced him to do what he didn’t want to.

Gaius took a deep breath. “The idea of facing you and Adrian scared me. The person—I was not very pleasant. I guess I was worried that seeing me would bring back bad memories.”

“If Amy has chosen to spend the past thousand years with you, then perhaps there’s more to you than I thought.” Kamilah tilted her head to the side, studying his face. “Perhaps we could have a longer conversation?” She looked at Amy. “If you don’t mind, of course.”

Things were going far better than she had expected. Amy stepped back, trying her best not to grin. “Be my guest. But please, bring him back in one piece.”

With a laugh, Kamilah nodded, turning her attention back to Gaius, who once more looked like he might be sick. Together, the two of them made their way to a corner of the room, maintaining a small distance.

After socializing for half an hour, Adrian found Amy and Lily. The three of them continued to tell stories of their near decade apart while others around the ballroom chatted amongst themselves.

Amy stepped away after a while to look at the obelisk in the middle of the room. She stepped closer, searching until she found her name. The smile faltered when she noticed Jax’s, a few inches away. With a sigh, she reached out to run her fingers over the name, forever carved into the pillar.

“He’s here with us in spirit.” Adrian’s voice startled her, and he wrapped an arm around her, pulling her to his side. “As long as we continue to live, a part of Jax will, too.”

Tears threatened to fill her eyes, and Amy sniffled, surveying the room for Gaius. She caught sight of him and Kamilah still talking in a corner. To her surprise, it looked like they weren’t on the verge of killing each other.

Music filled the air as the band began to play, and Amy pulled away from Adrian, excusing herself as she headed towards Gaius and Kamilah.

“Am I interrupting?” she asked, looking between the two.

Gaius shook his head, stepping forward to stand by her side. “Not at all. We were just discussing what’s happened in the years since we last saw each other.”

Amy nodded, glancing back at the dance floor. Couples were pairing off, swaying to the slow music that played throughout the room.

“Do you want to dance?” She turned back to Gaius, looking up at him with a smile.

He returned the gesture, nodding before he looked at Kamilah. “Mind if I leave you now?”

Kamilah shook her head, her lips quirking up in the slightest of smiles. “Not at all. I hope I get to know more of this side of you…friend.”

Pure joy lit up his face, staying as they walked away to join the others dancing. Amy couldn’t stop from smiling, wrapping her arms around Gaius’ neck. “I guess a thousand years was enough time for Kamilah to consider you a friend.”

He chuckled, his hands resting at her waist. “Most of this new version of me is thanks to you. You made me want to be better.”

“Don’t sell yourself short. You can’t let me take all the credit. There was some effort on your side too.” She grinned when he rolled his eyes. “You know, I think Jax would be happy if he was here. We finally get a party where no one tries to kill us.”

Gaius smiled, pulling her closer. “Yet. The night is still young.”

But something told Amy that, for once, the celebration would go uninterrupted.

After so many years of pain and struggling, she finally felt at peace. Her friends had been willing to accept Gaius, to attempt to know the part of him that Rheya had kept trapped away for so long. The man that she had fallen in love with, who believed in her when she felt like no one else did.

Time may not be enough to heal all wounds, but it was enough to make her believe there was hope. And as long as she had hope, she would continue to fight the darkness.

-----

Author’s Note: Finishing this has me feeling both sad and happy, honestly. It ended up a lot longer than I’d originally intended, but I had quite a bit of fun writing it. Also, I just wanted to give a special thank you to @theo-oface first of all for for helping me come up with the main idea for this epilogue but also just for being so supportive of me writing this. Seriously, I appreciate you so much, dear friend. Anyway, I hope whoever reads this fic enjoyed it and thank you so much for taking the time to read this. Every single like, comment, and reblog meant the world to me. I may say that a lot, but it’s true. Thank you so, so much for taking the time to read something from someone who’s still pretty new to the fandom. I really loved writing this (it’s the first fanfiction I’ve written in a long time--like eight years.) Alright, that’s enough. Thank you everyone once again! I love you all so much.

#choices: stories you play #choices fanfiction #gaius augustine #gaius x mc #bloodbound #gaius augustine x mc

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just-random-imagines · 5 years

Text

The Fun Process of Imprinting

IMAGINE: You are the adopted child of the Cullens and you learn the hard way you are Paul Lahote’s imprint. WORD COUNT: 4.1k

“You coming Y/N?” One of your brothers yells at you.

Rolling your eyes, you say goodbye to your friends and turn around. Your third oldest brother smiled as you made your way over to him and the rest of your siblings.

“You guys are really impatient, you know that right?” You tease Emmett, softly slugging his arm. His wife, rather, one of your sisters, grabbed you by the hand and led you into the car.

“Carlisle wants to see us right away. Esme called us and said it was an emergency.” 

Your eyebrows immediately scrunch together as you pile into the family’s car. Alice starts up the vehicle as the rest of you try not to worry about what your father wanted to talk to you guys about.

“It’s probably nothing,” Jasper tried to soothe you. 

Your emotions were coming off strong as you tried suppressing your fear. He leaned across Emmett (Both your sisters sat in the front as Rosalie called shotgun!) and took your hand in his.

Despite him having problems with blood and humans, your brother taught himself to familiarize your scent ever since you were a child. It didn’t affect him as bad as Bella did or the others did.

Seeing that you were still stressing out, Jasper manipulated your emotions until you felt calmer. Sending him a smile, you nod your head in thanks.

“Let’s see how much trouble we’re in now,” Emmett muttered as Alice pulled into the driveway of the house.

“I have to what?!” You ask your father incredulously. Carlisle sighed as he repeated the news.

“Bella,” he began, gesturing to Edward’s girlfriend, “has talked to Billy Black about our… Situation. The pack has taken it into their own hands and has asked to talk to you.”

The first time you heard it, you flat out refused. The wolves already brought trouble to your family. Jacob Black, an old friend of Bella’s had gotten pissed once he found out she was dating your brother. He was ready to tear your family apart.

“No!″ You stated firmly. “If they’re worried that you guys turned me into a vampire, can’t Bella just tell them that I’m still human?”

Carlisle shook his head. Running a hand through his blonde locks, he stared you down with his golden eyes.

“Y/N, we don’t have much of a choice. Sam Uley has demanded your presence. It’s for the best that we respect their wishes.”

After a small stare off, with you glaring at Carlisle as he pouted silently, you finally gave in to your father’s puppy-like gaze and huffed. 

Turning to Bella, you begrudgingly asked, “When did they want to do it?” You watch as she and Edward share a wary glance before spitting out an answer.

“Now.”

Bella’s truck purred underneath you as she drove to the reservation. The two of you were quiet as she drove down the road. To say you were mad was an understatement.

You were livid!

What were those mutts thinking when they demanded that you were brought before them? They acted as if the Cullens had no say in the matter, and it pissed you off.

To keep your mind off of what was to come, you gaze out the car window and watch the scenery roll past. The blurred trees reminded you of your childhood, and you gleefully lost yourself to your memories.

Your ten-year-old self stumbled through the forest as you climbed over a fallen tree. Out of the corner of your eye, you see a familiar blonde peeking out from behind a tree.

Several hundred yards away, you hear Esme call out to you. “Run little deer!” She laughed. “Don’t let Rosalie catch you!” A giggle escapes your lips as you run even faster.

Out of nowhere, dainty hands wrap around your waist as you’re suddenly lifted into the air. You can’t help but shriek with glee as you make eye contact with Alice.

“Got you, you little monkey,” she teased as she tossed you into the air. The other Cullens suddenly crowded the two of you. They all greeted you with smiles as they complimented you.

Surrounded by people who cared about you, feeling genuine love and care. You were glad that you found the Olympic Coven. You were one with the Cullens, despite your mortality. Life could never be better.

Bella gently tapped you on the shoulder, breaking you out of your trance. “We’re here,” she explained, pointing to a wooden house. 

It looked cozy and if you weren’t living with the Cullens, you’d be interested in getting a house like this. But knowing that it was home to shape-shifters made your skin crawl in a way that it shouldn’t.

With a groan, you exit the car and walk to the front. As Bella sided up to you, she sent you a reassuring smile before leading you to the door.

As if sensing her presence, the infamous Jacob Black stepped through the open sliding door. “You’re here!” He said incredulously, not believing his eyes. His gaze between you and Bella constantly changed, switching between total adoration and deep skepticalness.

“Look,” you suddenly state, surprising both teenagers. “Neither of us wants me to be here so lets cut to the chase. Take me to your pack leader or whatever and say what needs to be said. I can feel my family pacing back at the house and it’s driving me up the wall.”

Jacob raises an eyebrow but gestures for you to follow him. He leads both you and Bella into the kitchen where you see a woman busying herself with food. Your friend quickly recognized her and wasted no time in giving her a hug.

“Emily!” Bella greeted her happily.

“Bella!” Emily replied in the same tone. As the two parted, you finally got a good look at the girl who embraced the loner of Forks. 

The scar lines did not faze you, but it raised your ever-growing fear of shifters. You knew how dangerous they were, and this sight did not help.

“You must be the Cullen’s special child,” she noted, offering a hand. You take it politely, not wanting to seem rude. 

Growing under Carlisle’s hand had its effects on your mannerisms.

“That I am,” you confirm, giving her a firm shake. After the two of you properly introduce yourselves, you ask the girl about the pack’s whereabouts.

“Oh, they’ll be here in a bit,” she assured you. “The boys always go out for a run this time of day and they’re starving. Just give it a minute.”

It doesn’t take long for the boys to pile in but by then, you, Bella and Emily have gotten into a pleasant conversation. It quickly ends when you hear an obnoxious voice complaining about a repulsive smell.

“Great, another leech lover roaming around here. Since we’re getting so cozy, why don’t we just invite the damned things over and be done with all this bullshit?”

Turning around, you see a handful of dark-haired males make their way to the door. Emily smiles as she made her way to greet them. One man detached from the group as he pulled Emily into a loving grasp.

The other males walked in and made their way to the kitchen, immediately ransacking it of any food they could find. You look to Bella in disbelief, to which she only shrugged. Shaking your head, you quickly stand up and clear your throat. All eyes quickly find their way to you.

“Look, I know you guys aren’t in a big rush but I’ve got school tomorrow and my dad is going to kill me if I miss a class. So can we just cut to the chase and get this over with?”

The man who previously had busied himself with Emily, nodded as he carefully pushed past his girlfriend. “Sorry for calling you on such brief notice,” he told you. “I’m Sam Uley, this is my pack.”

You glance at each of the wolves. Most of them seem as disinterested with you except for one. His dark brown eyes burn into yours as your stare meets his.

He freezes for a moment, but you quickly brush it off and return your attention to Sam. This mutt has probably never seen a girl that wasn’t born on the reservation.

“What has my family done to piss you guys off now?” You ask calmly.

“Nothing,” Sam promised you. “It’s just, our ancestors and the Cullen’s have made a treaty with them. They can’t-”

“I know all about the treaty,” you interrupt. “My family can’t harm humans or cross into Quileute land. I may not be a shape-shifter like you guys, but I’m not a dumbass. Even if you think I’m just a leech lover.”

You watch the pack leader send a quick glare to the mutt who couldn’t keep his gaze off of you. It quickly softens, making you curious at the sudden expression change.  

Looking back, you see that his eyes haven’t left your figure. The only difference this time, you see his lips pulled back in disgust. 

“Got a problem, pretty boy?” You snarl at him.

The wolf looks taken aback by your snarkiness, but quickly replied with his own comeback. “I just don’t see why the hell you’re even here on our territory. I guess you’re human, which means we can’t kill you, but if it was one of those bloodsuckers…”

Everyone was quiet as you marched up to the man and pressed your finger to his chest. You heard the girls gasp (And even a few of the guys) but you paid no attention to that.

“Listen here, you little shit,” you told him sharply. “I don’t give a damn on what your views are on vampires but let me set one thing straight. You will never disrespect my family ever again! Do I make myself clear?”

He quickly smacked your hand away as he leaned in closer.

“Paul…” Sam warned with a growl. “Don’t do anything you might regret.”

“It’s not my fault she comes from a family of monsters,” Paul shot back, not breaking eye contact.

“The Cullens aren’t the monsters here,” you spit at the wolf. “I’m standing in the presence of a certain snot-nosed dog who has never heard of a nose hair trimmer.”

You watched as the shirtless male snarled; his nostrils flaring as he struggled to control his breathing. A pang of fear flashed through you as you watched him slowly lose his temper. One wolf noticed and quickly grabbed your hand, attempting to pull you back.

Paul had not taken this lightly.

“Quil, remove your hand before I do it for you!” He barked, baring his teeth like a pissed off animal. The wolf quickly lets go of you, sending you into a spiral of confusion.

“Sam?” Bella asked out of nowhere. “What did Y/N do to Paul?”

The pack all shared a look before most of them dog-piled the angry shifter. Sam ordered Jacob to take you and Bella home. As Black hesitated, Paul shook more and more as his anger took over him.

“NOW JACOB!” The leader screamed before joining the pile.

Wasting no time, Jacob grabbed you and Bella by the hands and dragged you out of the home. All three of you scrambled into the vehicle as Jake stole the keys from his friend and started up the car. As it roared to life, you peeled out of the driveway and hit the road.

“Call them,” Jacob commanded Bella. “Gather the Cullens and get them as close to the reservation as they can. Y/N needs all the protection they can get.”

“From Paul?” You ask. “What the hell is even going on?”

Bella looks to her friend in realization as it hits her. “He couldn’t have… It’s not possible!”

“Anything is possible,” Jacob replied. You watched as the numbers cranked higher and higher on the speedometer.

“Would you mind telling me what’s possible and what it has to do with me?”

It was as if you were invisible. Both Jacob and Bella knew what was going on with Paul, but they left you in the dark. This is why you preferred vampires. They always said what was on their minds. Most of the time at least.

A loud howl breaks you out of your thoughts, making Jacob stiffen. "What is it?" You ask him worriedly. 

"Paul's pissed," the wolf muttered. Without another explanation, he forced the Chevy pickup to run even faster, causing it to emit several groans under the stress. 

"Carlisle is sending Edward," Bella reported. 

Her friend slammed his palms against the steering wheel. "He needs to bring all of them! Call him again!" 

"I can't!" She replied. "He's already on the way!" 

"Would y'all just calm the hell down and tell me what's going on?" You scream at them, tired of being ignored. 

And just as it seemed like one of them was finally going to answer your questions, something heavy slammed itself against the back of the truck. 

The car went flying as it skidded across the road. You and Bella held onto the dashboard as Jacob struggled to keep the truck from flipping. The car came to a sudden stop when the same weight latched on and forced it to slow down. 

Bella looked over her shoulder and paled at the sight. "What is it?" You ask her, not wanting to see whatever was keeping you back. You knew exactly what it was, but you preferred not dying if Paul was still angry. 

"Stay in the truck," Jacob ordered as he quickly left. He left your line of sight as he headed towards the back. Bella quickly ignored this as she noticed her boyfriend approaching the scene. 

"Edward!" She cried, throwing off her seatbelt and running into his arms. Giving her a kiss, he spared a glance towards Jacob and Paul before looking at you. 

'I'm fine,' you told him mentally. 'Just get me out of here before Paul rips out my throat!' 

Just before you can even think about getting out, you hear a series of growls and snarls before the sound of crying catches your attention. You quickly whip around and see two giant wolves fighting each other. 

The shifter who had cried out had been the chocolate brown wolf with the limp. The back legs were matted with fresh blood and his coat covered in dirt. A gasp escaped your lips as you watched him struggle to fight back. 

The other wolf was different. 

Its fur was silver and gray, and it shined in the darkness. The mouth seemed to be covered in red as it snapped at the other animal. Despite being smaller, it fought with more ferocity than you thought it had. 

As you scrambled out of the car, Bella cried out as she watched the fight. "Jacob!"  At the name, the chocolate wolf turned its head in your direction. The silver shifter took this chance and tackled him. 

Fear hit you as you realized that this was Paul. 

Edward focused on him as Bella rushed to you. "Stop him!" She told you. "He'll kill Jake!" 

"What do you expect me to do?" You asked her. "It's not like he'll listen to me! Didn't you hear him call me a leech lover?" 

"Just do it," Edward said. "Paul imprinted on you Y/N. He can't resist you." 

Before you could ask what he meant by imprinted, your brother pushed you towards the wolves. Automatically, Paul focused his attention on the vampire behind you. He bared his sharp teeth angrily as he snarled. 

With another shove from Edward, you gulped silently before approaching the wolf. He paid no mind to you as he stared your sibling down. 

"Say something to him," Bella offered after you struggled to distract him. 

"Paul?" You shakily called out.

The wolf let out a growl as he spared a glance at you, but otherwise did nothing. 

"I know we just met and all," you try again, taking a hesitant step towards him. "But I think I know when to say you need to take a chill-pill or something." 

Still nothing. 

"You need to encourage him," Edward instructed. 

As you turned around to look at him, you heard Paul snarl angrily. Snapping your head back in his direction, you try something different. 

"Paul, I need you to calm down," you tell him. Two more steps. "I can't have you hurt any more people. I don't know what you're going through, but I'm not worth it." 

This had caught Paul's attention. He tore his attention away from Edward and Jacob as he settled his gaze on you.

Another pang of fear hit you as Paul slowly approached you. His sly movements reminded of how a hunter goes after its prey. The fear worsened as you realized you were the prey.

As if reading your thoughts (Which he probably was) Edward spoke up. “He won’t hurt you. He’d rather die than do anything of the sort.”

Proving the point, Paul gently prodded his large snout against your hand once he was close enough. You flinched at the blood that soaked into his fur, but otherwise froze at his presence.

He tried poking you again before he let out a whimper.

“He thinks you’re rejecting him,” Edward explained. “You need to show him you aren’t.”

With a shaky breath, you slowly place your hand on top of Paul’s head. His giant ears twitched, making you freeze. It wasn’t until he whimpered again that you moved. Your fingers run through his fur eagerly. A low moan left his muzzle as he leaned into your touch. Once you were sure that he had calmed down, you faced Bella and Edward.

“Get Jacob out of here,” you tell them. “Paul’s stable now, but I can’t say the same later. Go now. Take the car.”

Bella goes to argue, but your brother took her by the arm and shook his head. They make their way towards the wolf. As you watch the girl try to coax her friend to come with them, Paul catches your attention once more.

He ran his giant tongue across your open palm, which you quickly recoiled from. Only after hearing his sad whine did you apologize.

“I’m sorry. I just really don’t want you to bite off my hand or anything. I know you don’t like my family, so...”

Paul growled angrily, making you jump back like a frightened cat. The shifter realized his mistake and whimpered. Tired of not being able to talk to you properly, he slowly backed away before he changed.

You winced at the sound of bones snapping and arranging themselves in a different order. The thick fur seemed to melt away as the silver wolf disappeared into Paul.

You had gone to say something before you realized that he was very nude. 

Especially down there.

“Y-you’re um... You’re not really... Covered,” you mumble, keeping your eyes glued to his face. You can feel your face burning up as he glances down to see that nothing was covering his area.

“Sorry,” he told you sincerely. “But I don’t really have anything to cover it up.”

Without a second thought, you shrug off your plaid and hold it out to him. Paul sends you a grateful smile as he takes the shirt. Quickly tying it around his waist, the shifter then scratched the back of his head nervously.

“I didn’t mean to scare you back there,” he told you honestly.  “It’s just- I’ve got problems with anger and- You’re my soulmate and it doesn’t help that your family are vampires and- There’s so much on my mind right now.”

You barely make eye contact with him for a second before you quickly look away.

It’s not that you feared him. I mean, you were terrified, but the things that were coming out of his mouth were terrifying. You were soulmates... With an angry shifter who hated vampires.

Things didn’t look so bright for you.

“We should probably go check up on Jacob and the others,” you tell him quietly. “Bella called my dad and my family is probably worried by now.”

As you walk back towards the reservation, Paul grabbed your hand. You jumped at his touch but calmed down when he gave you a reassuring squeeze.

“Why won’t you look at me Y/N?” He asked quietly. “I know I’m not exactly what you’re used to, but I’m honestly trying here.”

“I... I know you are. But it’s just a little hard. This is just so sudden.”

Just as you go to say something else, you stumble over a sudden dip in the road. If it hadn’t been for the shifter’s quick movement, you were sure you would’ve fallen on your face.

Paul had grabbed you by the arm and pulled you into his grasp. Once you had been close enough, he then scooped you up into his arms, far off the ground. On instinct, you wrapped your arms around his neck and clung to him like a baby koala.

“You all right?” He asked you quietly.

“I-I’m fine,” you stutter. “J-just having a b-bad day, apparently.”

Paul made sure you were all right before he continued to make his way back to Emily’s house. You were content just staying there in his hold, but something felt off.

You did just meet this guy an hour ago.

“Are you going to set me down?” You ask Paul quietly. The shifter glanced at the road before he shook his head with a smug grin. He only held you closer as he carried you back towards the reservation.

“Set him down there,” Sam commanded Edward. With a nod, the vampire helped a newly shifted Jacob onto the couch.

“It was my fault,” Jacob groaned suddenly. “I was stupid enough to separate Y/N from Paul. That’s the worse thing you could ever do.”

Edward took a step back as the other shifters surrounded their brother. They all joked about how stupid he was, but anyone knew that they were just happy he was okay.

“I can’t contact Paul,” Sam confided within Edward, away from all the fiasco. “I know he’s somewhere out there but-”

“He’s right outside,” Edward interrupted, looking towards the staircase.

Sam took a single whiff of the air before he bolted down the steps. Edward gave Bella a swift kiss on the forehead before joining the shifter downstairs.

What he saw made him want to screw the treaty and rip off a shifter’s head.

Paul stood in the kitchen practically naked. The only thing that covered him had been a (Favorite Color) plaid around his waist and Y/N clinging to his chest. One of his arms supported their legs while the other held their body closer to him.

Edward took a step forward to check on his sibling, but the shifter had other ideas.

Paul let out a low growl, a ferocious sound as he glared daggers at the vampire. His grip on Y/N only tightened as he bared his teeth, ready for an attack.

“Paul,” Sam warned. “It’s okay, just let him check them.”

Paul let out another growl before slowly nodding his head. Edward didn’t waste another moment as he placed his hands on Y/N’s face. The shifter couldn’t hold back a cocky grin as the figure in his arms almost recoiled at the coldness in the touch.

Paul... Want to stay.

Edward grimaced at the fact that Y/N willingly wanted to stay with these mutts, but he was in no position to deny them. Especially since he could never deny his baby sibling of anything.

“They’ll be safe here?” Edward asked no one in particular, removing his hands from the girl’s face.

“I’d protect them with my life!” Paul snarled protectively.

I know you would, the vampire thought. Refraining from rolling his eyes, Edward spared Y/N a last peek before making his way back up the stairs to retrieve Bella.

Paul didn’t spare him another glance as he stared at you.

This was going to be a complicated relationship, but neither of you would dare to pass it up.

#Paul Lahote x Reader #Paul Lahote Imagine #Gender Neutral #Twilight Imagine #Twilight x Reader #The Twilight Saga Imagine #New Moon Imagine #Eclipse Imagine #Breaking Dawn Imagine

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lost-tanuki-tales · 4 years

Text

Trekking down the tunnels

Prompts: Exhaustion, Collapse Cast: The Disaster Five Word count: 6.4k

* * *

Grenelant looked up from his papers and blinked muzzily, then realized he felt a bit dry. The opiel looked over to the side of his room and the clock- digital, they called it- showed him that it was already morning. Another fleeting night spent pouring over knowledge instead of resting without proper hydration... It was no wonder he felt so tired. The chair raked across the floor as he stood up, his webbed fingers a mere few inches away from touching the low ceiling when he stretched, and then he brushed down the many layers of fabric of his outfit to tidy his undesirably unruly appearance. He quickly and efficiently swept up the documents strewn about on the surface of his desk to form a neat pile on the side and left the room.

The ship was quiet in these parts, as it often was when the two humans went about their respective business. Grenelant was grateful for it. The less he had to listen to them squabble during one day, the better. He headed down the hallway for the sanitaries and felt around for nearby humidity, once again unpleasantly reminded of how inorganic this place was. His membranous wings flickered in troubled annoyance at the thought of spending such a long time aboard, so far from the marshes and rivers of his home planet. Nostalgia, in turn, dawned in his heart when his thoughts brought him back to his home and family. Grenelant missed swimming in the underwater tunnels which seamlessly connected with those on the surface, missed the comforting thrum of water beneath his wings, missed the soft flutter of fish drifting close to his skin, missed the fresh humidity of algous upholstery that was so much more comfortable than the dry chairs on this ship.

He promptly berated himself for allowing his mind to meander down such a wistful lane. Here in space, he was less of an opiel than he was Ophena's ambassador, and it really would not do for him to behave like a child. The Court had known this would be Grenelant's first interstellar mission yet they'd still trusted him to see it through, and so he would. He had to. He hadn't worked so hard all his life only to fail on his first real chance to prove his worth to the most powerful people on Ophena. Homesickness wouldn't get the best of him after a mere three weeks of travelling in a spaceship when they still had at least five months to go- and Grenelant tried not to grow to disheartened at the reminder that this was only in the best case scenario.

The opiel let out a discreet sigh as he checked on the water reserves again, a nervous habit he'd aquired five days after they'd lost the ship's external humidity collectors. Lack of sleep wasn't the only reason his skin was abnormally dry; he'd soon noticed the reserves and sanitaries hadn't been meant to take into account the needs of his species on their own, and so he'd had to make do with less frequent immersions, in more shallow depths than he would've liked. It had been enough, for a while, but now Grenelant was starting to feel the effects of neglecting an important part of his biology. He didn't want to give the earthlings reason to think he'd ever rely on them after the last fiasco he'd been forced to take part of, but he couldn't push it back any longer. Pride be damned. He needed their help.

"Captain Trust."

She spun around in her seat and her head tilted back to face him. "Leonida. We're just the three of us here! There's no need to remain so formal, Grenelant, I keep telling you."

Arkady was sitting in front of a panel on the far left of the control room, where he'd stopped rummaging for a few seconds to watch the tall amphibian step up to their captain. Now he was rolling his eyes as he checked the wires, and Grenelant heard him mutter to himself: "Here we go again."

Leonida shot him a look. "What?"

The man didn't look up from what he was doing and mumbled: "Nothing."

"Spit it out, Arkady."

He finally glanced at her. "Sir, no offense, but getting annoyed because Grenelant can't call you anything other than Captain yet won't change anything. It took me two weeks to stop calling you that and I still slip up."

"He's never called me Leonida and he's been here for three!"

And I was injured on the second by your fault, wryly thought Grenelant, but he kept quiet.

Arkady shrugged. "In my division our superior was on a total power trip, and we both know how the army goes in general. You can't expect me to drop the habit of calling superiors by their title. Not everyone's like you."

She crossed her arms. "You two are just the most stuck-up people in the universe."

Grenelant took advantage of the lull in their conversation to say: "You'll have to forgive me, Captain. Hierarchy is very deeply ingrained in the ways of my people."

"I think I'm beginning to get that," Leonida said with a little smile that was bordering on wry and teasing. "All right, Grenelant, what did you want with me?"

"There's an issue concerning our water backup supply."

"I don't know what you're going on about, I check the levels every day and there's enough for three weeks just like there's meant to be," said Arkady with a frown. "Why would you even check those? That's my job."

The subtext was clear: why was Grenelant lowering himself to the menial task of checking parameters within the ship when he was the ambassador, only here to sit around and symbolize the cooperation between two planets? Not to mention that this was an insult to Arkady's abilities as the ship's technician.

Grenelant faced him. "You've had enough water for your consumption, but not for mine."

"What do you mean?" asked Leonida. Her tone of voice was concerned.

"We lost the water processors on the outside of the ship and the regenerative system isn't nearly enough on its own to replace all our daily water consumption. My species requires frequent submersion in water and I can't reasonably deplete the reserves without putting us all in potential danger, which means I've had to restrain myself from following through with that habit. Unfortunately, I don't think I can hold this less than ideal rythm for much longer."

"Grenelant, why didn't you say anything before?" exclaimed Leonida, suddenly straightening in her seat. "How often do you usually need to do that?"

"Two times per day."

"And how many times have you been doing it?"

"Once every two days, and even then, it seems to be quite unreasonable of me to use so much water. I've been keeping the levels relatively steady but this won't do in the long run. I'm aware they aren't supposed to dip beneath 90% outside of an emergency situation and continuing like this will lead to violation of protocol if we don't find a solution to my problem."

"Are you all right?" Leonida was frowning now, her gaze calculating as it looked him over. "I thought your hair looked a little dry. Is it dehydration?"

She didn't sound worried, but rather like she was watching out for a flaw she'd need to fix. Grenelant preferred the captain's analytical concern over useless fretting, it made him feel less like he was doomed to be in their debt once they'd figure out a way to provide him with the water he needed.

"I'll be fine as long as this doesn't last. What do you suggest?"

Leonida glanced over at her second. "Arkady? Any ideas?"

Arkady had disappeared behind the panel again and he grumbled: "I'm not the smart one here."

"Well," she said thoughtfully, like she hadn't actually expected him to say anything worthwhile, "I guess we'll have to see if there's another planet we could land on to get water earlier. I would've made sure the reserves were bigger if I'd known." She turned around to step up to one of the screens and asked: "Why'd you keep quiet about this?"

"I didn't realize it could get this dire. Obviously your people didn't take into account what would happen if the collectors stopped working."

"Probably not," bluntly agreed Leonida as her finger swiped across the luminescent surface. It figured. Grenelant didn't know why he was still surprised by her brutal honesty. "Okay, let me just reprogram our route and we'll be on our way to get more water."

They eventually docked on a small deserted dwarf planet amidst the nearest icy belt they could deviate towards and disembarked in heated suits, except for Leonida. Her standard outfit seemed to serve many, many purposes and Grenelant was quietly admirative of its versatility, watching in fascination as the brightly colored plates of Leonida's body shifted from red to a reflection of her surroundings. The air wasn't toxic, which he was grateful for as it didn't warrant wearing a suffocating helmet.

The pure water was concentrated deep below the first outer layer of the planet which meant they couldn't just land and take it; they'd need to get close to it and bring back full containers. Leonida showed Grenelant how to use the crafts meant for exploration and collection in a hostile environment: flying vehicles that glided close to the ground, small enough to fit through natural tunnels and big enough to bring back consequent amounts of food or water or whatever samples they'd see fit to pick up. Grenelant trailed at the back on the first half of the first day of their descent because it took him some time to get the hang of the commands that weren't made for his long, webbed hands, but eventually he managed to catch up with them and remained at their level. Their progress was stopped very soon when it became clear that even the considerably downsized vehicles wouldn't allow them to go very far; the tunnels hadn't remained wide enough. There was a short moment of deliberation and eventually Leonida told them they'd go on foot.

"What?!" Arkady's exclamation crackled through the radio. "How're we supposed to bring back the water on foot?"

"The containers have wheels, we'll drag them along."

"Cap- Leonida, sir, they'll be way too heavy once we fill them!"

"Right." There was hesitation on Leonida's end. "Sorry, Arkady. I forgot you don't have our strength."

"Wow, thanks," quietly mumbled the man. He probably hadn't intended to be audible but Grenelant heard it well enough, and he had no doubt it was the same for Leonida. She didn't react.

"Grenelant, just to be sure, I assume you're strong enough to carry yours alone. Right?"

"Yes."

"Would two containers be enough water for you until we reach the next checkpoint on our trajectory?

"Yes, but I have another proposition since we're going on foot."

"Shoot," said Leonida.

Grenelant addressed their technician. "Dragunin, would you be able to modify the water purification machine so it could recycle greater volumes of water in the same time as it currently is?"

"I'm pretty sure I can pull that off, yeah," answered the man.

"Then I'd advise you to only take one tank, Captain Trust. The water purification machine should be able to recycle enough water for me to use it once a day and I'll get by like this until we get more water through safer means. There's no need to burden ourselves with superfluous weight if we can do this the easy way."

"Oh, good!" enthusiastically said Leonida. "Should be a breeze then! It'll go fast if we're three to carry a single container. Happy, Arkady?"

"Never been happier," grumbled Arkady.

"It's settled then! All right, everyone, let's go."

Leonida moved fast. Grenelant had already noticed when they'd been walking through crowds that her strides were always long and quick and determined; however, he'd yet to see her moving on this kind of bumpy, treacherous terrain, and he was reluctantly admirative of how easy she made it seem. Where Arkady kept slipping and stumbling, where Grenelant's webbed feet had to be carefully positioned, Leonida never once hesitated. She was the one doing most of the pulling for the container. It was like she could see the path laid out before her while both Grenelant and Arkady were left to struggle in her wake, rocks crumbling beneath their steps. The opiel kept one hand warily pressed up against the wall in case he lost his footing, and the human seemed to want to prove he didn't need such support by keeping his own in his pockets. His arms ended up shooting more often than not to catch himself and in the end Arkady kept his hands out as well.

They made good progress on the first day. They rarely paused because Leonida was so intent on getting the water as soon as possible so they could get back on their regularly scheduled route. Grenelant appreciated that this woman who was to guide them to Ophena's lost colony was someone who knew exactly what she wanted and would follow through with it no matter what unexpected events occurred; determination was a primordial quality in a leader. She was overly confident and got them in more trouble than Grenelant would've desired, but one thing was for certain, and it was that Leonida Trust knew very well how to lead. He wondered if she guided large troups with that same efficient will and certainty. It was likely. Captain wasn't just a title for her, she had the aura of a commander.

As for Arkady... Grenelant glanced over at the human. He may have been from the same planet as the captain, but he had neither the stamina nor the steady demeanor of his superior. Grenelant knew Arkady was more of a human than Leonida, he'd studied them for some time after all; the records did say that humans were more fragile and less resiliant than opiels but Grenelant hadn't thought it meant they tired out so fast. Arkady was slower now. They hadn't had much opportunity to sleep the night before, as this planet was unknown territory and Leonida didn't want them to linger too long in the same spot in case there was a danger roaming around that they weren't yet aware of. These tunnels didn't seem to be an entirely natural geological structure. Leonida had listened when Grenelant had pointed this out, and so they'd kept moving.

So far there had been few pauses to eat and sleep during which Leonida had always been the one to keep watch. The night had lasted two hours at best. Grenelant didn't require any longer time asleep but he could tell that Arkady did. This was the second day they were trekking through the dark tunnels- the third since they'd left the ship- and in the harsh light of their suits which made their surroundings pale and nearly blinding, Grenelant saw the dark bags that had appeared under the man's eyes. Another thing he'd noticed was the way Arkady didn't ask for pauses. The human was obviously relieved when Leonida told them they could stop, but he never asked. Grenelant himself wasn't feeling well. The tunnels humidity, while cold, did help a bit; however he'd gone too long without taking a dip in a body of water while already dehydrated from the start. His wings were clumped together in a very uncomfortable way and his skin felt clammy. He hadn't yet reached the point of dizziness but he knew it wouldn't be far now.

Arkady tripped. The human had been tripping more often, and he hastily caught himself on the tank. "Fuck!"

"Watch your step, Arkady," rang out Leonida's tranquil voice the way it had every time.

"I know!" annoyedly spat the man, and he ragingly pushed himself up to straighten but tripped again immediately after. Grenelant was fast enough to catch him before he hit the ground.

"Are you alright?" he inquired.

Arkady pulled his arm away with a snarl. "Let go!"

The opiel let go and Arkady scrambled back to his feet with a powerful glare. Puzzled by this display of hostility, Grenelant steadily said: "I was just trying to help."

"I don't need your help," seethed the human.

Leonida had turned around to see what the fuss was about and she said: "No need to be so grumpy, Arkady, we're almost there."

"I'm grumpy because I'm goddamn tired. Fuck, aren't you?"

She shrugged and turned around. "Nope. Battery's still good."

"And I bet frogman's just fine, too," resentfully muttered Arkady.

Grenelant immediately took offense to the term. He'd seen what frogs looked like and although he couldn't deny there was a resemblance, he really didn't like being compared to those little heaps of slimy skin and protruding eyes. He coldly retorted: "Yes, and I'd certainly feel even better if you stopped your ceaseless whining."

Leonida muffled her laugh behind her hand and Arkady shot the opiel a murderous look.

"I'm not whining, I'm tired! What, I can't even say that without getting judged?"

Grenelant ignored him. Arkady opened his mouth to keep complaining but then seemed to think better of it. His shoulders slumped, he shook his head, and he resumed pushing the container.

Arkady's stumbles increased in frequency over the next hours and when he outright tripped over and fell on his rear, Grenelant decided to speak up. "Captain Trust, I think we should take a break."

She turned around, watching Arkady awkwardly pick himself up, and said: "Do you need one? We're almost there. Half a day at most."

That glare again. Grenelant didn't like how resentful Arkady's blue eyes were and he especially didn't like the disdainful way the human turned his head away from him, as if Grenelant had done him a personal offense by asking for a short rest.

"I'm good to go, sir," Arkady answered.

"Okay," she answered with a nod. "Grenelant?"

"We should stop."

"I don't need a pause," growled Arkady.

Grenelant looked down at the human and steadily said: "I do."

Arkady's features slackened a little when he realized he'd been acting quite like everything revolved around him, and then he frowned and looked away. It looked like embarrassment. Grenelant supposed it was some sort of consolation that while egocentric and prone to complaints, the human wasn't completely devoid of a sense of self-awareness.

Leonida let go of the tank. "Then you two sit down for a bit, I'll go check the perimeter. Don't fight again, your arguing gets loud and that's really the last thing we need here."

"Understood," said Grenelant, and he bent his knees to sit. Arkady waited for Leonida to disappear before going to lean against the wall and sliding down to the ground. There was a short while of silence, then Arkady let out a weary sigh and let his head tip back against the wall.

Grenelant looked around the place and he noticed something dark sticking against the wall a few feet away from the human, so he slowly pushed himself back to his feet and came closer. He was tired, but that wouldn't stop him from investigating this place. He felt Arkady's gaze on him but didn't pay attention to the human, instead kneeling down in front of the dark spot which turned out to be long strands of black hair. Curious. Grenelant reached for his bag and took out a vial, always eager to take samples back to the ship to study, and Arkady shifted to take a closer look at what he was doing.

"What's that?"

"Fur," said Grenelant. He wasn't one to hold a grudge against another person, even if said person was incredibly rude at best. "Either from the creature that made these tunnels, either from one that took residency in this place."

Arkady didn't say anything. Grenelant glanced at him and saw that he really didn't seem reassured by the news.

Grenelant put away the vial in his pack and added: "I did tell you both that these tunnels weren't the result of natural causes."

"Yeah, I heard you the first time," tensely said Arkady.

He looked wary as he crossed his arms on his knees and hunched over. Grenelant didn't exactly blame the human for being scared, he wasn't confident himself either. It had been jarring enough to meet other civilizations than those of Ophena; now they were stuck on a planet they'd thought deserted until Grenelant had observed it likely wasn't, and they had no clue what the life forms inhabiting it looked like. It could be dangerous if the creature living here turned out to be a predator. Grenelant stood up, and that was when the first wave of dizziness washed over him. He wavered and steadied himself against the wall.

"Woah," came Arkady's voice from a distance. "What's with you?"

"I'm just- Lack of water. I've told you about this too."

"You did, yeah... You should probably sit down."

"Yes." Grenelant didn't even step away from the wall, just let himself drop to the ground right there. He couldn't tell if he'd voluntarily sat down or if his legs had given up on him. The latter option was unlikely, he was an opiel after all. Legs were the strongest part of them.

"Do you not have any water left?" ventured Arkady after a beat.

"I do, but it's drinking water, and not nearly enough for what I need at the moment."

Arkady fell silent again and laid his head back against the wall. There wasn't much else to say. Grenelant closed his eyes and waited for the spell to pass, and when he opened them again he saw that Arkady had done the same. Grenelant took advantage of the fact that Arkady wasn't looking to gauge the state the human was in. Grenelant was no expert on these creatures in particular but he knew enough to observe that the fact that Arkady had paled, coupled with the fine tremors in his hands as they rested against his knees, meant that he was just as exhausted as Grenelant felt. Arkady may have denied needing this halt but it was obvious this was beneficial for the both of them. Grenelant wondered if a human different from Arkady and Leonida would have been able to keep up in the same conditions. After all, Arkady was the unique soldier who'd been chosen to accompany an army captain on a mission through space; that had to mean his abilities were above average and that he was far from weak in human standards.

Leonida returned a few seconds later and the sound of her voice pulled him out of his thoughts. "All right, guys, I didn't see or hear anything weird. How are you holding up, Grenelant?"

He looked up at her and admitted: "This isn't the best I've ever felt in my life. I may be reaching a limit soon."

Leonida stopped in front of him. "And what does that entail?"

"It starts with dizziness. That phase lasts a while, and eventually issues with thermoregulation come into play, as well as loss of strength."

"Life-threatening?"

"It can be, yes. But it takes time to reach that point and I've only just started getting dizzy. There's no need to worry. At worst, I'll survive until the next stop the way I have up until now."

Leonida stared at him, her lips pressed together in a thin line. "Your health wouldn't be good."

"No," acknowledged Grenelant. "It would be much better if we could bring water back to the ship."

"Have you had this happen to you before?"

"Once or twice, yes. But never beyond the dizzy phase."

"So then we'd better hurry before you get worse."

Grenelant glanced in Arkady's direction. His head was now fully resting against his arms and his breathing had a calmer rythm. Leonida turned to follow his gaze and they both stared at the human.

"We might want to give him a chance to sleep," said Grenelant. "Doesn't your species require at least seven per day to function optimally? He hasn't even had half of that in two."

Leonida nodded with a musing air. "I tend to forget what it's like to be human. He complains a lot so I thought as long as he was vocal, he was probably fine, but I might've been pushing him a little too hard."

Grenelant looked up at her. "I've been meaning to ask, if it's not indelicate..."

"Shoot," she cordially said as she sat down next to him.

"You come from Earth and you look similar to Dragunin, but what are you exactly?"

"I was human once, if that's what you were wondering, just like this guy. Now I'm more of a machine than what I used to be." She flashed him a smile. "It comes in handy."

Grenelant nodded. Though he was tired and rest was preferable, fascination pushed him to continue the conversation. "Is this common where you come from?"

"No." Her smile turned pensive. "Definitely not. A lot of people told me I was crazy for wanting this."

"Why?"

"Modifying the body you've had for all your life is kind of... an extreme decision. And my transformation was a first. They hadn't had successful attempts before me so people thought it would fail and that I'd die or become irreversibly crippled, stuff like that."

"...I can't imagine what it must have felt like to go through such a thing."

Grenelant's species had a single morphological change during their lifetime and it was in their early stages of life, just like babies and adults in humans. Once the second form was aquired, it was for a lifetime, and to change one's own appearance was practically unheard of on Ophena. Grenelant had in fact been very surprised to learn that humans often chose to change their sex, and in doing so, shift the nature of the secondary sexual characteristics aquired during their puberty. Nothing so extreme had ever been done on his home planet.

"I chose this. I don't regret it," stated Leonida. Then she smiled at him again. "You might want to take this time to rest too, Grenelant. You do look pretty pooped."

"Pooped?" Grenelant frowned, hoping this wasn't an insult the captain had come up with out of the blue. No matter the planet, insults often came down to talk about excrements.

She laughed. "It means tired, don't get your panties in a twist." A second to realize, and she added: "That one means 'don't get worked up over it'."

"I see, thank you for explaining. I think I'll do as you said."

"Good." She got back up in one fluid motion, and as usual said: "I'll keep watch."

Vibrations were what startled Grenelant back to consciousness : vibrations travelling from the packed earth at his back to the core of his body, his lung and his eardrums. He saw movement on his right. It was Leonida rushing up to them, her features pulled tight, and when she saw that he was already awake she ran to Arkady to shake her second-in-command awake.

"Get up! Get up, we have to go!"

Arkady blinked awake with a groan and he squinted at her in confusion. "Wha-?"

She grabbed him by the collar and hefted him up as if he weighed nothing at all. "No time to explain, gotta run!"

He was about to answer when a horrid screech suddenly echoed through the tunnels. Arkady's eyes widened with fear and Grenelant picked himself off the ground as hastily as the human stumbled after their leader. A rumbling sound travelled through the air around them and dirt started pattering to the ground. They stilled when the earth over their heads started cracking and crumbling.

"Get back!" yelled Leonida.

She pulled Arkady back in the direction they'd just come from so brutally that the human was thrown to the ground in an undignified pile of limbs, and Grenelant reflexively leapt back just as part of the tunnel collapsed in the spot they'd occupied just a second ago.

"Shit!" swore Leonida as she picked her second off the floor. "Run!"

"What about that thing we heard-" started Arkady, but she cut him off with a roar.

"Run!"

They ran. They ran back towards the spot they'd been resting in but didn't have the time to reach it before the screech resounded again, this time unmistakably close.

"It's above us!" yelled Grenelant.

Leonida looked up sharply and then grabbed the both of them to shove them up against the wall.

Arkady yelled, "What-"

Thunder exploded when the ceiling caved in, silt and rubble tumbling everywhere around them, and horror truly dawned on Grenelant when he saw the shadow of something huge slithering down from the dark network of tunnels showing in the split layers of earth. Grenelant didn't see it for long because then Leonida was grabbing him by the collar and forcing him to duck down with Arkady. There were several impacts above him and it took Grenelant a moment to realize that it was the sound of rock hitting metal- of rock hitting Leonida. Just as he understood that she was shielding them with her body, a final slab toppled down on the group of three and their captain took the brunt of it. He had the time to see the tight expression on her face before her light shorted out. Then there was silence, save for the light sounds of dirt sifting and pebbles bouncing on the ground. Arkady and Grenelant were unharmed, still caught in the protective brace of Leonida's arms.

"Oh, fuck," Arkady was the first to say. "Shit, what was that?"

"Captain, are you all right?" Grenelant quickly asked when Leonida didn't move.

"Just- Give me a moment. Give me a minute." She sounded fine, but the fact that she was staying so still was worrying.

"What's wrong?"

"Just recalibrating some stuff, routine, don't worry about it. Took a nasty blow."

"You took a few of them," Grenelant said. He couldn't believe she was still standing, much less that she was able to talk, yet there she was. Just what kind of human was she?

Arkady shifted next to him and his light moved with him, brushing over Leonida's front, and then he asked: "Are you hurt or are you just stuck?"

She let out a little laugh. "I might be just stuck. I'd advise you two not to move until I can."

"How long will that be?"

"About ten minutes, I think."

Arkady audibly swallowed. "Can't we try to dig out?"

"And that, Arkady, would be the best way to get all the dirt to collapse on you," teasingly answered their captain.

Gren could make out the change in pace of the man's breathing and he carefully turned to look at him. "Are you all right, Dragunin?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm uh, I'm fine," hastily said Arkady. He swallowed again and ran a hand through his short hair. "Just not a fan of small spaces, you know."

Grenelant didn't know, but he chose not to say that. Arkady seemed to be very uneasy and the opiel didn't want to risk saying anything upsetting in this situation.

"Just a few minutes," said Leonida. "Keep it together."

Arkady clenched his fist and lowered his arm back in his lap, nodding. "Yessir."

"How are you both doing after all that running around?"

"The adrenaline sure woke me up," said Arkady.

"I hope we find the water soon," answered Grenelant. "It'll be safer for us once I've recovered."

"Do you have to stay in there for an hour or something for it to work?" inquired Leonida.

"I see you've taken great pains to learn about my species," annoyedly said Grenelant.

She smiled, embarrassed, and admitted: "I'm not really the studious kind."

"Between thirty minutes and forty-five," said Arkady. The other two looked at him in surprise and he defensively said: "What? I got briefed on this operation too. I have good memory."

"That's correct," said Grenelant, and he looked up the Leonida. "Will you be able to remember that, Captain?"

"My, my, are you giving me sass, Grenelant?" she said with a wide grin. "Here I thought you were doomed to eternal formality. Oh, and sass means you're being mouthy."

"I would never," gravely said Grenelant.

Next to him, Arkady shifted and grumbled: "Shit, that was one nasty earthquake."

"I'm almost done recalibrating, we should be able to check out the aftermath soon."

"I think I saw what caused it," quietly said Grenelant. Leonida's brown gaze grew sharper and Arkady's head snapped in his direction.

"You saw something?!"

"Just a shadow. There's definitely something living down here."

"Great," muttered Arkady.

"We'll have to be careful," said Leonida. Something clicked, and then she let out a sigh. "All right, finally."

Her arms slowly moved and she pushed herself away from the wall a small fraction, and dirt fell on Grenelant's face. He wiped it away from his eyes and mouth and watched as she flexed her fingers, then shifted her left arm to hold it over their heads so that it would still hold up most of the packed dirt above them while her right arm reached behind her. She felt around each side of her shoulders and then said: "Okay."

The frame of her body tensed and she started pushing outwards. It took Grenelant a moment to realize that she was moving the huge slab of rock out of the way even thought it was easily twice her size and likely incredibly heavy. He didn't think he'd ever cease being surprised by her strength. More dirt sifted through and pattered on the ground beneath Arkady and Grenelant.

"What do we do?" asked Arkady.

"Don't move yet." Her voice didn't even sound that strained. "Actually, Arkady, I want you to take position beneath me, don't want you getting squashed if there's another rock behind it. Grenelant, get ready to help me if we have to catch something heavy."

"Yes, Captain." He straightened a bit and yet another clump of dirt hit the middle of his face, which he annoyedly brushed away.

"Okay," she grunted again, and she braced against the slab until it finally started sliding a bit faster. Soil was sloughing off and Leonida warned them both: "Hold your breath, just in case."

Once she was sure they'd complied, Leonida gave the slab a final shove to the side, burying it in one of the walls of dirt that encased them. Fortunately, the slab had been the last big thing to fall so nothing came tumbling down on top of their heads but the brittle dirt and pebbles that poured in their space. Leonida reacted fast and grabbed Arkady by the collar.

"Sorry about this, try not to bump your head or anything."

"What, wh-"

Leonida was already throwing Arkady outside like a sack of supplies. Grenelant felt the hefty thump of the man's body hitting the surface and a loud: "Ow, what the fuck Leonida?!"

"Quit whining!" she yelled back, and before Grenelant had the time to react she was hefting him up as well.

"Wait, I can jump!" he hastily told her before she could eject him like she had the human.

She opened her mouth to answer but Grenelant decided to show her before they lost more time in this space that was quickly filling up, and he wrapped his long arm around her waist before bunching up his muscles and jumping in one powerful thrust. The soil that had reached up to his knees grabbed at his legs, but the opiel had anticipated it and jumped with enough force that getting out of the hole was no problem at all. He landed smoothly on the surface and let go of the captain, who looked positively elated.

"That was awesome!" she exclaimed excitedly.

"You couldn't have told us you could do that before she threw my ass outside?" bitterly asked Arkady, who seemed to be nursing a sore butt.

"Maybe he couldn't carry two people at once, Arkady, have you though of that?"

"Actually, I can," Grenelant corrected Leonida. "You didn't leave me time to tell you. If I'd known your plan was to throw Arkady out than I would've suggested carrying you both out of here from the start."

"Whatever, the important thing is that we're all out of that death trap safe and sound," stated Leonida with sparkling brown eyes. "You think you could do that again, but like, for fun?"

"For fun?" echoed Grenelant.

"Right, you probably don't know what that means," she mischieviously answered. "That's fine, we'll talk about this again when we get out of here. Hey, Arkady, you figure you could check the damage on my back? I'm pretty sturdy but I want to make sure it's nothing too bad."

"Yessir." Leonida turned around to show him her back and Arkady quickly scrambled to his feet so he could come closer to examine her. After a few seconds of smoothing his hand over the plates of her suit and checking her neck and shoulders, he declared: "Looks like you're pretty okay, Captain. I mean Leonida. I don't know what the hell it takes to get through your exoskeleton but it's definitely not a whole goddamn tunnel collapsing on top of you."

Grenelant went to lean against the wall of the tunnel, feeling dizzy again.

"My head?"

Arkady moved up and eventually said: "Yeah, you definitely took a nasty blow there. Not too bad, though. It cracked but I can repair that no problem, I can do that right now if you want."

Leonida spun around on herself. "No, let's get the tank and find that water for Grenelant first. I want him to get back in good health ASAP."

"Cap- Leonida, it'll only take a few minutes," insisted Arkady.

"And whatever that thing was can find us in less. Look at him," said Leonida, gesturing to Grenelant who was trying his best to stay standing upright. "I'm pretty sure we'd be better off not going a round two while he's like that.You'll repair me while Grenelant takes a break, and after that we'll book it."

Arkady turned to Grenelant. "Can you even walk?"

"Just give me a moment, please. It'll pass."

Leonida didn't give him a moment, promptly grabbing him as she walked by and tugging on his arm so that she was supporting him despite her shorter stature. "Let's move, Arkady."

"Yessir," he answered, and they headed back towards the rest area from earlier to fetch the abandoned tank.

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