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chibinekochan · 3 years

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Morning Sunrise ft. Beel and Belphie

A fic about the brothers and you get a free day in a spa hotel. On paper, it sounds great but not everything is going as planned.

Will the twins still get to enjoy their birthday even when it seems that everything is ruined?

Read on to find out.

I hear a knock on my door. I open it to find Levi. "Hey Levi, can I help you with anything?"

"Well, I have a huge problem." He looks very distraught.

Then he starts to rummage through his pocket and pulls some tickets out. "I won these tickets in a raffle. Sadly they are completely useless to me. They are for a day and night in a spa, for three people. Well, you can probably see the issue. First of all, I don't even have that many friends and it's in a region without wifi. Then there is a concert that weekend that I simply can't miss." Levi dumps all this information on me.

"I would have gone with you. You have Solomon and Henry. I mean any of your brothers would come too." I feel bad for Levi.

"That is so kind of you." His eyes sparkle. "You are a true friend!" Levi smiles gleefully at me.

"Sadly that concert is still more important to me. So I want to give these to you." Levi is holding the tickets for me.

"That is very nice of you. I will pay you back with some anime merchandise from the human world." I graciously take the tickets from Levi.

"That is super fair. There is a ton of stuff that I need." Levi agrees and leaves me alone.

I check the date it's on the night before the twins’ birthday. This is the perfect opportunity for a little early birthday celebration.

I already have gifts for them so this is only a bonus. Well, if they are up for it.

I head to their room right away.

I knock and hear someone say. "Come in."

I'm sure it's Beel.

I open the door. Belphie looks at me with a sleepy expression while Beel smiles at me.

"Hey you two, I have a question about your birthday." I get straight to the point.

"Sure, ask whatever you want." Beel sounds very enthusiastic.

"Yeah, as long as it's not too tiresome." Belphie is still half asleep.

"Levi gave me tickets for a day and night in a spa for three people. It's on the day before your birthday and I thought it would be great if we could go." With a big smile, I show them the tickets.

"That kind of sounds like a pain. I mean we have to travel to get to the place." Belphie sounds not really in the mood for it.

"They got this great spa massage that is said to give you the best sleep ever and they also got an enormous buffet." Luckily enough I know just the right thing to motivate him, and I also throw something out there that will make Beel happy too.

"Oh, that sounds great! I mean I wanted to go anyway since you can see the stars very well up there at night." Beel seems to drool for a moment.

"Haha that's so you Beel, but it sounds pretty nice now that I think about it. We can celebrate our birthday morning in peace. It will be great." Belphie changes his tune rather quickly.

"Great, I will get Lucifer's permission for us. I'm so excited!" I beam with happiness. A spa day to relax just sounds perfect.

"Yeah, it will be fun. I'll make sure to thank Levi later." Beel is in a great mood.

Even Belphie seems affected by it. "We just get him something anime-themed. That will make him happy."

With that, everything is settled.

Getting permission wasn't super easy but we did it in the end.

I only pack the bare minimum. It's a trip that will take a few hours after all. While the hotel is free the trip itself isn't so we travel cheaply. With a train and a bus.

The journey is pretty pleasant, even when I nod off on the train. We had to start very early to get to the hotel in time.

I lean on Beel's shoulder and Belphie takes two seats all by himself across from us. It's pretty comfortable.

At breakfast time we have to stop Beel from buying the entire food cart but other than that it's a fun time.

We eat at the train station before riding our bus into the mountains.

I sit next to Belphie on the bus ride. He is sleeping on my shoulder this time.

Beel and I talk about different topics. I have some plans at the spa for sure.

The bus is a bit late but there's no issue.

Once we arrive at our final stop I stretch my body. I'm all tense after the long ride.

Belphie studies the map on the side of the road and groans loudly. "This looks like a real hike."

I look at the map, the hotel is on the top of the mountain and we have to walk. Probably gonna take us an hour or two. Luckily I'm prepared. "We knew this Belphie. Just think of the nice spa treatment as your victory price." I try my best to motivate him.

"Yeah, and the nice food!" Beel doesn't lack motivation at least.

Belphie sighs and shrugs. "I will do my best. In the worst case, one of you has to carry me."

"Good luck with that, Belphie." I laugh at that.

"I'm sure you can do it." Beel gives him a friendly slap on the shoulder.

"I guess I have no choice." He shakes his head and groans. Then he starts walking.

Beel shrugs at me and we both laugh a little.

"Are you coming? You snails!" Belphie turns around and teases us playfully.

"I'll show you a snail!" I reply equally playful and speed up until I catch up with him.

In the end, we all walk together along the path.

It's more exhausting than I expected but the idea of a spa day is more than enough motivation for me.

Belphie, on the other hand, looks like he suffers.

"Are you alright?" Beel has a worried tone.

"I'm fine." Belphie doesn't sound convincing.

"I can carry you." Beel is worried.

"I can still walk." Belphie wants to push on just a little bit longer.

"Don't push yourself. Oh, look, that sign there means we are about halfway there." I point ahead to a fork in the road.

Beel looks at the sign. "Yeah, maybe we can take a short break then."

We've made good progress and are pretty much on time. "Sounds good to me. Let me check the map, I think there is a nice spot just a little bit ahead."I get the map from my side pocket.

"You don't need to do that just for me." Belphie doesn't want to be a bother to us.

"I'm getting hungry so I need a break." Beel is mostly concerned about what is best for everyone.

"In the guide, it said from the rest spot just a little bit ahead we have a great view of the hotel. I would like to see that." I chime in support of Beel and to give us all a well-deserved rest.

"I guess I have no choice. Let's take a break." Belphie shrugs with a smile. He knows very well that he needs a break but is too proud to admit that.

We find the spot just a little bit ahead of the path.

It's a very nice spot with a great view not just of the hotel but also the surrounding nature.

I look in awe of the beautiful landscape.

Beel enjoys the snacks we have packed and Belphie has decided to take a quick nap.

It's a very peaceful scene. It makes me smile to see them both so relaxed.

Then I feel a slight chill in the air. I notice some dark clouds on the horizon.

"That looks pretty bad." Almost as to confirm my bad feeling, Beel speaks up.

"Yes, we need to move asap. Have you eaten enough?" I worry about his huge appetite.

"I can eat while we walk. What about you, Belphie?" Beel tries to wake Belphie up.

He groans. "What is going on?"

"It looks like there is a storm coming," I say in an alert tone.

"Huh, I see, just give me a moment." Belphie gets slowly up. He seems pretty sluggish.

Another gust of wind hits me, something wet touching my skin. “We need to hurry, it's already starting to rain.”

"You are right." Beel looks with a worried expression towards the ever darker sky.

Belphie gets hit by some droplets of water and groans. "We should hurry." He seems to be fully awake now.

I can only agree and so we hurry back to the path upwards of the mountain.

The rain now really starting to hit us all and soon it's down pouring.

It hits so hard the road is hard to see.

I have never been so wet my entire life.

We hurry our steps more, especially when thunder roars through the sky.

It's coming down now.

We had been prepared but certainly not enough.

Then I see that Beel has come to a halt, just a little bit in front of me.

Our path is blocked by a fallen tree.

Belphie groans. "What are we supposed to do now? The path down is very far."

"Climbing it would be too dangerous too." The tree is huge and looks very slippery.

"It looks like there are rocks and mud on the other side too so removing it would only cause us harm." Beel has already scouted the situation.

"We have to take shelter from the rain. I saw a hut on the map, there should be a path right by marker 113." I have to speak loudly due to the rain and the wind picking up now too.

"Let's see if we are at 114 so it should be behind us," Beel confirms the marker.

"At least that's some good news. Let's get moving." Belphie seems very annoyed. I can't blame him.

Beel and I can only agree.

By now I'm entirely soaked.

Still, there is no resting now. We silently walk back to the waymarker.

Then suddenly something pushes me out of the way and something big crushes right next to me.

Then I realize that a tree just fell inches away from me. I look surprised at the tree and then at Beel. Who has shoved me away.

"Are you okay?" His face twists in pain and yet Beel is only worried about me.

"Y-yeah but what about you?" I can see that he got hit. His cheek is bleeding and his shirt is torn right at the shoulder. The tree must've hit him there.

"I'm good. Let's be careful." Beel acts like he is fine. I'm still worried. As soon as we hit shelter I will treat his wounds.

We carefully move as fast as we can. The ground is slippery.

"Beel stop pretending to be fine, you are limping." Belphie looks angrily at Beel. I look at him and notice that Belphie is right.

The guilt is ripping my heart out. "Beel come lean on me. It will only get worse if you don't." I can't stand seeing him like this.

"No, I'm too heavy for you." He bluntly refuses.

"I'm too wet and tired for this Beel just lean on us both." Belphie doesn't take no for an answer.

Beel sighs but doesn't refuse our help. "Fine."

"We should be there soon. Just hold on for a little bit longer." With that, I carefully take Beels injured side and Belphie takes his other side.

Belphie takes the brunt of Beel's weight.

I know he is much stronger than me but he still struggles.

This slows us down even more but nobody complains at all. We all might get wet but we just focus on getting to safety.

"There I can see the shelter." I can see a small hut in between the trees.

"Thank the demon lord." Belphie seems to be very relieved.

"Just a little more and we can all rest," I say this mostly to Beel.

Once we finally hit the small, but cozy and sturdy hut we are all very happy.

Beel sinks to the ground, checking his leg. "It's not broken at least so with some bandages and rest I'll be as good as new by tomorrow morning.

"That's good to hear. We got some wood so I'll make a fire." Belphie lights up the fireplace.

"I will treat your injuries. Take your shirt off. It needs to dry anyway." I don't care much about being wet right now and get my first aid kit from my bag.

"You should change into something dry first. If you stay like this we will have far bigger issues than my injuries." Beel looks at me with a stern voice.

"He is right." Belphie is already half-naked. I turn around blushing. "Belphie, gee warn me when you do this."

"There is no need to be shy. You should take a closer look while you can." At least Belphie hasn't lost his humor yet.

I throw a towel at him. "No thank you, and you both better not peek while I change." I huff, slightly embarrassed.

"It's not like you have anything we haven't seen yet." Belphie uses this chance to tease me.

"Just be polite, Belphie. I'll make sure he doesn't look, don't worry." Beel encourages me greatly with his words.

"Whatever. I will go and call the hotel for help and I won't look." Belphie shrugs.

I turn around and undress my wet clothes. Luckily, we planned to stay the night.

I'm glad to be out of my wet clothes and quickly dress something dry. I dry my hair and then turn back to Beel, to finally treat his wounds.

He didn't even bother to wear a shirt yet, which makes it just a little bit harder for me.

A bit embarrassed I treat his foot first. "It's a bit swollen. I will put some cream on it and a bandage. You should just take it easy for today unless it swells more we are fine." I give Beel a quick summary of my thoughts.

"Yeah, that is what I'm thinking too. I'll be fine by morning." He wholeheartedly agrees.

I hope he is right and carefully start to apply the cream. Beel slightly winces from the pain. I feel very bad for him. "Just a little more." I wrap the bandage around his foot, ankle, and a bit up his leg. "There we go."

Beel moves his food a bit. "Much better, thank you so much." He smiles gratefully at me.

"No problem, now I will clean your other wounds." I get the disinfectant and bandaids out.

Beel looks with great discomfort to the disinfectant. He doesn't like how it stings.

"I know you hate it but you know it has to be done. If you keep still I will treat you with your favorite chocolate bar." I'm being a bit playful, trying to cheer him up more than anything else.

"I will be good then!" Beel is instantly motivated by the prospect of chocolate. It's so cute that it makes me chuckle.

"Have you my favorite too?" At that moment Belphie comes back.

"Sure, I love those too after all. I actually got a value pack with all our favorites." I had planned to surprise them both on the trip back, but due to our current circumstances now is a better time.

"Oh, nice. Can I get them out of the bag? All this running made me kinda hungry." Belphie seems pretty chipper again.

"Sure, but what did the hotel say?" I'm pretty curious about that. I start to carefully disinfect Beel’s arm while I wait for Belphies answer.

"They can't get to us with this storm raging but they are sure it will be gone by tomorrow. They were very sorry about the whole situation. It sounds like they will greatly extend our stay." This explains Belphie's great mood.

"Won't the others be disappointed if we aren't back by tomorrow evening?" Beel seems conflicted.

"They will survive, plus we might just do it another time anyway. The hotel will likely give us some vouchers or something." Belphie doesn't sound concerned at all.

"Lucifer won't let us miss a couple of days of school anyways." I put a few bandaids on Beels shoulder and then start to disinfect his cheek.

None of the injuries are deep, this gives me great relief.

Belphie sighs. "Too bad really. How are your injuries?"

"I'm fine." Just then Beel winces from the disinfectant.

"Hold still." I can't work well with him moving around.

"Sorry." Beel mumbles.

Belphie has pulled out the bag of sweets. "Talk about a big stash of goods. You put Beel to shame." Belphie gives me a light chuckle.

"Not really, about 90 percent of my backpack was stuffed with food." Beel is eyeing the sweets.

"At least we won't starve." Belphie shakes his head.

"At least he didn't bring an extra pillow." I put a bandaid on Beels cheek. "There all done."

"Hey, I need that extra pillow and tonight you will be grateful that I also packed a blanket." Belphie buffs slightly.

"Ahh, thank the demon lord. Now I can eat!" Beel is just glad he doesn't have to sit still anymore.

He gives me and Belphie a fair share of treats before starting to shove chocolate into his mouth.

Belphie eats his portion with much enjoyment.

I suddenly start to shiver. "Now that I think about it. How are we going to sleep here tonight?" I haven't packed a blanket.

"I suppose we all share my pillow and blanket. It will be tight but we will be warm that way." Belphie shrugs like it's no big deal at all.

"Kinda like a sleepover in one bed." Beel doesn't look fazed at all either.

They both are probably used to this, meanwhile, I'm not.

"Are you saying that we should all cuddle up under one blanket?" It's pretty embarrassing to me, I blush.

"Yeah, unless you want to catch a cold." Belphie smirks at me.

"There is no way I will let that happen." Beel seems to agree with Belphie.

"Will we even all fit under that blanket?" I can't imagine that.

"Let me show you." Belphie pulls his backpack towards him and produces his pillow and a huge blanket.

My eyes widen and I gasp from the surprise. "How did you fit that in there?!"

"Magic, of course." Belphie is very amused.

Of course, it was magic. Pretty stupid question of me.

Belphie spreads the blanket out and I can see that it will fit all of us without issues.

Beel wraps the blanket around himself, with a bit of help from Belphie.

There is definitely plenty of space for me and Belphie left.

"As much as I'd love for you to be in the middle, we have to use Beel as our heater." Belphie seems slightly frustrated by this.

"It's kinda mean to refer to Beel as a heater but I'm fine with this." There aren't many other choices anyway. "More importantly, are you fine laying in the middle with your shoulder being injured?" I'm still very worried about him.

"It's fine he isn't wrong and it doesn't hurt that much anyway. I'm more worried that me and Belphie somehow squish you when we sleep." Beel is as usual mostly concerned about anyone but himself.

"Yeah, that would be terrible, as unlikely as that might be." Belphie seems troubled by the thought too.

"Alright, but if you have pain you have to promise to tell us." I look with a stern face at Beel.

Beel nods. "I will."

"Alright then, I'm tired so I will get comfortable now." Belphie yawns very loudly, it's a surprise he even lasted this long. He then proceeds to sit right next to Beel and without a second thought he snuggles up to him.

Beel doesn't even bat an eye. I'm used to Belphie doing the same thing to me so it's not that odd.

I again start to shiver.

"Come here, you need to warm up." Beel is very worried about my health. It would be very bad if I catch a cold. "You are right." I carefully move next to Beel, making sure I don't hit his shoulder.

He wraps the blanket around me. It's very warm, helped by Beels natural heat.

"You can move closer." Beel encourages me with a soft voice.

There is very little space between us even now. I still take his offer and scoot closer. My side is now touching him. I'm very aware of our closeness.

Beel puts his arm around me, erasing any distance between us.

I feel embarrassed but it's very comfortable so I settle down pretty quickly.

"Does it hurt?" I want to make sure that Beel is also comfortable.

"Hm? No, not at all." Beel seems almost surprised by my question. Has he forgotten about his injury already?

"Hey, can you hand me some of the snacks?" Belphie sounds like he is already half asleep.

"Hold on." A bit reluctant to leave my comfortable spot and reach out to grab the package of sweets.

"Thanks." Belphie eats one of his favorites with a gleeful smile. Then he grabs another one. "Here Beel for you." He can tell that Beel is still hungry.

"Very nice of you." Beel eats it with glee.

I take a turn and feed Beel next, while also grabbing one for myself.

Belphie and I repeat this a couple of times.

Then Belphie yawns again, very loudly.

I admit that I'm feeling pretty sleepy myself. The warmth of the blanket and the stress of the day finally seem to catch up with me. I yawn almost in unison with Belphie.

"We should all rest for a while." Beel makes a very good point.

"I agree." Belphie seems to be already half asleep.

"Sleep well." I get more comfortable at Beels side.

Soon I hear Belphie softly snoring. I, on the other hand, just can't find any rest. I try to focus on the sound of the Storm. My thoughts keep on coming back to feeling guilty. I know it's not really my fault but I'm still sad about possibly ruining their birthday.

I sigh quietly.

"Is something wrong?" Beel speaks in a hushed tone.

"I just can't relax." I feel bad for bothering Beel.

"Sorry, it's not very comfortable." He seems to think this is somehow his fault.

"No, that's not it. I just feel bad about today." I admit while whispering.

"But this is still pretty nice. I mean we are all safe and together." Beel speaks softly.

"Isn't this a bad way to start your birthday?" I just wanted them to have a nice day but now we are all stuck in a small hut.

"I can only speak for myself, but I'm with the people that I love the most and I can't think of a better way to celebrate my birthday."I can hear Beels smile in his voice. This comforts me greatly.

"He is right." Belphie chimes in, sounding more asleep than awake.

"Thank you both." I smile and relax a bit.

As long as they are happy I'm happy.

I can feel Beel squeeze me just a bit closer towards him.

After a while, the sound of both boys soft breathing and the sound of the rain on the roof lull me to sleep.

At some point, I wake up and realize it's the next morning.

I'm still curled up in the blanket. Now on the floor and sharing Belphies pillow. I feel a bit drowsy when I get up. Belphie is still asleep.

I can't see Beel anywhere. I sit up and look around.

My movements wake Belphie up. "Hm? Is it morning already?" He still seems to be more asleep than awake.

"Happy birthday Belphie." I smile at his sleepy face.

"Thanks, do I get a birthday kiss?" He smiles at me in a teasing manner.

"Maybe later." I can only shake my head at this comment. "I will go look for Beel." Slowly I get up.

I hear Belphie moving around. "Hold on, I'm coming."

Belphie gets up, sluggishly.

I grab my now dry coat and wait for Belphie at the door.

We head outside and I see Beel checking on the surrounding area.

"Good morning Beel." I get his attention.

"Good morning." He smiles.

"Happy birthday." I congratulate him with a big smile.

"Thank you." He smiles back at me and then notices Belphie behind me, "Happy birthday Belphie."

"Happy birthday Beel. How is the road looking?" Belphie stretches.

"It looks pretty fine. We should get help soon enough. Let's have some breakfast while we wait." Beel seems to be hungry again.

"Sure." Suddenly I notice the sun bursting through the clouds, flooding everything in the beautiful morning light. I look at it in awe. "Wow, this is so beautiful."

"It's hard to believe that it was so miserable here yesterday." Belphie looks at the sky with a smile.

"It's very pretty. I'm glad we came here." Beel has a very gentle expression.

"Let's eat out here and enjoy the sun." I think this is the best idea.

"Sounds perfect." Belphie agrees right away.

"Good that I haven't eaten all I brought yet." Beel smiles and heads back into the hut.

"Can you bring the picnic blanket from my bag?" Belphie seems to have blankets for all occasions in his bag.

Beel nods and soon comes back with a blanket and food. There's plenty for everyone.

We all get comfortable and start our breakfast.

"I think this might be the best birthday we've had in quite a while." Belphie smiles at me.

"I agree," Beel says in the middle of chewing his food.

I smile at both of them. "Next year we will make it even better."

With that, we all smile and look over the surprisingly great view.

#obeymetwins2021 #obey me #obey me shall we date #omswd #obey me fanfiction #obey me beel #obey me!#obey me belphie #obey me twins

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leon-scott-kennedy · 3 years

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So Covert, I Hardly Knew Him

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV

Part V: Evacuate

Files flashed past on the screen, the download stalled at 94%. Close, but not quite. Leon needed a few more minutes, but Ada hadn’t followed him back to the lab. He cursed and glanced back at the screen just as new info flitted across the screen, and for a moment, he forgot to breathe.

“No...” Leon choked. “That’s not- No-”

A shrieking alarm blared, the grating sound echoing through the cursed halls. Surprisingly, the emergency light over the busted door flashed red in a steady pulse of danger.

Leon growled. “Fucking Ada. That’s my move.”

“All personnel, please evacuate the facility,” a soothing voice instructed to an empty wasteland of death, destruction, and decay. “Unauthorized access has been detected. The facility will self-destruct in 7 minutes.”

For a moment, Leon stood mesmerized by the comforting flicker of familiarity of the ridiculousness of his emanate death until Ada sprinted past the door at full speed. Not even a cursory glance in his direction. Typical.

“7 minutes? What’s wrong with the standard 10?” Leon said. Breaking from his stupor, he spun back to the screen. The computer had progressed a few percent. “Come on. Come on!”

If the information gleaned could be trusted, then Leon’s unscathed escape had jumped the priority queue. The situation now proved to be more significant than initially assumed. Wilson’s betrayal had been one thing, but this? Even the tiny fraction of information Leon learned threatened the entire foundation of democracy that his government was built on.

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“... self destruct in 4 minutes...”

“Fuck.” Leon none too gently snagged the drive out of the port, shoved it into the front zippered pocket of his leather jacket, and sprinted for the door, fumbling with his phone. He nearly dropped the phone, but he managed to tap a few commands and slip it back into his jacket while at a full run. “That elevator better be working.”

An enraged roar echoed through the halls. Leon’s heart stuttered in his chest. Dark hallways. The stench of decay. Screams and moans of the living and dead. Racoon City. That terrifying roar never left Leon’s nightmares.

“Oh fuck,” Leon wheezed. “Not again.”

Leon raced after the retreating mercenary, not daring to look behind him as he retraced their steps through the maze of corridors until he hit the main juncture. The lights above the elevator door slowly and steadily blinked down. Ada stood beside the door, arms crossed over her chest, glaring at the lights like she alone had the power to speed them along.

“What did you do!” Leon skidded to a stop beside the elevator and jabbed at the up button in righteous fury until Ada smacked the back of his hand like a child.

“So quick to lay blame,” Adad said, but her attention wasn’t on Leon. It was back down the hall they’d fled.

Another roar echoed through the building. This time closer.

“God damn it, Ada!” Leon followed her stare to the end of the hall. In the shadows, a lumbering, hulking outline of one of the Tyrants from containment, fully animated and extremely pissed off. “Oh, what the hell.”

Leon jabbed frantically at the elevator button as if he could magically speed up its descent with his urgency, and this time, Ada didn’t stop him. The elevator dinged. Only one of the doors slid open and barely enough for them to squeeze through, but they both scrambled into the lift. Ada immediately darted right, but Leon nearly fell through the massive hole cut in the bottom of the elevator car. He flailed for a moment, arms windmilling before he caught his balance and collapsed into the side of the elevator and abused the close door button. Ada’s backdoor wasn’t quite a mystery anymore.

The Tyrant sprint down the hall, growing alarmingly closer at an increasingly worrying rate. The door started to slide closed, but the Tyrant was close enough for the pulse of its deformed heart to be visible through the shrinking gap in the door. The elevator shuddered and jerked into motion, smoothly rising.

The grating tear of the metal doors below being ripped open echoed through the shaft. Both Leon and Ada peered down through the gaping hole in the floor at the Tyrant clawing its way after them, then at the tiny lights above the door that blinked with each sub-level. At this rate, they weren’t going to make it.

“Self-destruct in 2 minutes.”

The elevator jerked violently, knocking Leon back into the wall as the gears and motor ground against the force pulling them down. Suddenly, the car dropped several inches, and the emergency brakes screeched to a halt, locking them in place. Metal creaked and strained. Together, Leon and Ada pried open the elevator door to find the car about four feet short of the main floor.

Leon eyed the short wall of concrete. “I really don’t fancy getting cut in half.”

“Would you prefer the alternative?” Ada holstered her handgun and stepped up.

A crack echoed through the shaft. A quick glance down at the Tyrant climbing the elevator shaft was enough to have Leon drop to his knee and boost Ada up through the shrinking gap. One last look down, Leon hoisted himself up over the ledge with minimal help from Ada seconds before the elevator car shuddered and slipped another few inches. A large deformed hand grasped through the hole, pulling the car further down.

Relief at avoiding being cut in half by seconds is brief because Leon was up and running, sprinting after Ada in the darkness. He caught up to her halfway across the factory floor, grabbed her arm, and urged her faster as the timer ticked down.

Ada was first to scramble up the rubble that blocked the door.

“6 -5 -4 -3 -”

Leon hauled himself up through the narrow gap, again grateful he’d never been one to hit the gym, and threw himself out of the factory, tackling Ada to the ground as a deep rumbling boom erupted behind them. The heat of the explosion ripped across him. He tugged his leather jacket up over their heads to shield them best he can from the bits of debris that rained down.

As the smoke cleared, Leon noticed they weren’t alone. A string of troops armed with assault rifles stared them down from the treeline.

“We’ve got company.”

The team was well organized. Guns held tight at the ready like they expected Leon and Ada to suddenly rush them, the men approached in close formation.

Leon slowly climbed to his feet, silently drawing his weapon and strategically placing his body between the advancing men and Ada. The men wore no identifying markers. Just simple black tactical combat gear, helmets, and goggles.

“Drop your weapons,” a man yelled. He stood at the center of the group, the only clue that he held any position of power in the small militia, and more alarming, he had no accent. No discernible accent. Just American.

“Fuck,” Leon cursed under his breath, and then louder, “we don’t want any trouble.” But he wasn’t stupid enough to drop his weapon. So instead, he let it hang loosely from his thumb as he slowly raised his hands in surrender.

A sharp pain shot through the base of Leon’s skull. He clutched the back of his neck and spun just in time to watch Ada lower an empty syringe. “Ada.”

The betrayal wasn’t what shocked him. He knew Ada would try to take the data from him. He knew her priorities, but what he didn’t expect was for her to casually step over him as he staggered and fell, his vision growing foggy with every passing second.

Momentarily, Ada paused to dig through his pockets for the thumb drive. Once again, he found himself at the mercy of Ada Wong. His vision swam. Ada was already on the move before he could even form a protest or think of fighting her off.

“Thank you, Ms. Wong,” the masked commander said. “Your help has been invaluable.”

“The money?” Ada asked. She continued casually past the armed troops towards the tree line. The whirl of a chopper overhead broke the eerie stillness of the forest.

“Already transferred. I’d ask you for the research files.”

Ada didn’t break stride as a harness dropped from the chopper above. “Consider it my bonus,” she said.

Leon clawed at the ground, trying to climb to his feet, to follow her, but his body felt heavy, his muscles vaguely cooperative. “I was the job.”

Ada looped her arm through the harness and tugged, testing the integrity. “It’s just business, Leon.”

Two men grabbed Leon under the arms and hauled him upright. His legs gave out. “It always is,” he slurred, head drooping.

“Have fun, boys.” Ada waved cheekily as the chopper lifted her into the air.

The last thing Leon saw was Ada Wong dangling from a helicopter over the treetops as he struggled feebly against two armed men. They wrestled him to the ground far too quickly and pinned him so whatever concoction Ada had injected could take full effect. He could only hope it was a sedative because a replay of Spain wasn’t high on his list of priorities; the eggs hatching, the constriction of organs, the loss of control as his nerve system was hijacked. Regrettably, he didn’t find out because the butt of a rifle smacked him in the back of the head.

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deans-mind-palace · 4 years

Text

Nightcrawler

Pairing: Jensen x Reader

Summary: Jensen and you never got along well. But when a stunt accident almost caused him losing you, everything changes. What will Jensen have to say if you wake up?

Word Count: 2,182

Warnings: Description of an accident, Mean!Jensen, Angst, Fluff

Author’s Note: Based on this request. Anonymous: Can I ask a Jensen x fem!reader, where reader is an actress on spn. Jensen kinda hates her (like don’t like her). One day some stunt accident happens on set and reader goes in critical situation. Jensen gets very upset, stays with reader every time from ambulance till hospital. Goes crazy over the reader surprising Jared, Misha and other people on ser since everyone assumed he doesn’t like her. But he ends up confessing to reader at the end and alllll fluffy end?

It was late in the evening, but you had just arrived on the set for your shoot today. It was a night shoot, because the scene had to be shot in the dark outside on the studio grounds. It was a particularly important scene and you were late, so you hurried straight into make-up.

"Look who's late. Again." Jensen greeted you friendly as always. You rolled your eyes. "Mind your own business, Ackles." you were giving back before falling in the chair next to Misha. It was the seat furthest away from the blond actor. Misha sighed after you gave your best friend a quick hug. "I will never understand your hatred for each other." he muttered with a side glance at Jensen, who was now excitedly engrossed in a conversation with Jared and the make-up artist.

The truth was that you and Jensen didn't like each other from the very beginning. In your eyes he was an arrogant ass who looked good and was fully aware of that fact. In his eyes you were a bitch who couldn't understand a joke and was closed off. Neither of you had ever bothered to look behind the façade of the other one. Right on your first day on set you had argued so terribly that the shooting of the scene had to be stopped. When you were told a few weeks ago that you were to play Dean's love interest in the series from now on, the arguments between you had reached their peak.

"So, nervous about shooting tonight?" Misha ripped you out of your thoughts. You took a deep breath and tried to give him a halfway confident smile. "Oh, no. It's okay," you said. Misha saw right through you and gave you an encouraging smile. "I'll be okay. Don't worry about it." Further back you could hear the deep laughter of Jensen and Jared patted him on the shoulder in a brotherly way. You turned your eyes away when Jensen looked over.

A few minutes after your make-up was ready, a young personal assistant also walked into the trailer. "Ms L/N? We need you on set in ten," he reminded you. "Of course, thank you." you smiled. Then he looked at you nervously and fidgeted. Your eyebrows furrowed in wonder. "Can I help you with anything else?" you asked and smiled at the nervous student. "Err... No - Yes. Y-yes. I-I'm a big fan of yours. You're such a great actress and-" Jensen snorted in the background, for which you gave him a deadly look that made the young PA freeze completely, but Jensen was not the least bit bothered. You smiled reassuringly at the PA and granted him his wish for a selfie, then he led you to the set and lectured you for a few more minutes on how great he thought you were. You smiled and nodded from time to time, but you were far too nervous about the upcoming shoot to really listen to him. He didn't seem to notice that.

The spotlights were already set up and radiated the dark area. Cameras were flashing and the car was ready. It was time for the shoot. A bit away, Jensen sat in his chair and watched the action. Technicians hurried across the set. Cameramen were changing settings and the director gave final instructions for the scene.

"Everyone to their places, please!" shouted the director and clapped his hands. You took off your bathrobe and swallowed before stepping on your green mark. Immediately the director approached you. "You ready, Y/N?" he asked you. "This is an important and difficult scene. You must be ready for it because we only have one car, the next one would have to be delivered first." You nodded, unable to put your doubts into words. You wanted to appear professional, damn it! "All right, you know how the scene works? You're standing on the marker. The car, possessed by a demon, is going to race towards you, but you jump aside at the last second because you lure it into a trap and it crashes into the wall behind you. All right?" he went over the sequence of the scene with you again. "Yes." Your voice sounded uncertain, but he didn't seem to notice. "Fine, let's do it." He turned away.

"Light? "Check." "Camera? "Rolling." "Silence on set, please. Scene 17, Take 1. Go!"

As soon as the engine of the car in front of you stuttered to life, the sweat broke out on your forehead. Your fingers trembled, but it appeared as if it was part of your acting. You swallowed and your fingers clenched into fists. "Come on!" you shouted to the possessed car. "Come and get me!" The headlights of the car flickered and it roared a couple of times on the spot. The radio turned up loud and AC/DC's 'Highway to Hell' came out of the speakers, before the tires screeched and spun, and then the car started moving rapidly. Now it was getting serious. When the car crossed the green line, you had to jump to the side onto the green mat.

But the car approached the green line relentlessly and you were frozen like a deer caught in the headlights. Literally. When it reached the green line, you couldn't move a muscle. Immediately, panic broke out around you and the last thing you saw were Jensen's green, wide-open eyes filled with panic before the car hit you.

Suddenly everything happened very quickly. You felt a stabbing pain shoot through your legs as you collided with the bumper. Immediately, you were hurled over the hood, bounced over the roof and hit the ground. Blood ran from your hand and forehead where you had been smashed into the glass. Pain shot through your entire body, then everything went black.

For a split second there was complete silence on the set, then hell broke loose. The director instructed everyone to stay calm, an ambulance was called, but Jensen didn't notice the chaos around him. His gaze was locked on your motionless body as if in a trance. Then he jumped up and started running. Kneeling on the ground, he slid towards you. You had lost consciousness and blood was running from the cuts on your hands. His fingers trembled as he brushed the locks of hair from your face. He would have loved to lay your head in his lap and watched over you until the ambulance arrived, but he knew there was a chance the fall had broken your spine. Your face was pale and smeared with red crimson.

Suddenly he heard yelling in the background. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" Misha rushed out of the trailer followed by Jared and ran towards Y/N. Jensen held your bloody hand and stroked your forehead. Your breath was very shallow. He paid no attention to his panicked friend at all. All his attention and concern was only for you. As if in shock, his gaze kept wandering over your wounds. His breathing trembled and with every breath he had the feeling that his chest would burst. Should it end like this? You dying in front of him? Never again your cheeky comments or your bickering in the morning when you arrived late on set again? Would he never be able to make you coffee with too much sugar purposely, because he knew how much you hated sugar in your coffee? Or would he never ever listen to your complaints you always made when you were getting your hair done next to him and he just rolled his eyes? Would he never see the sparkle in your eyes again when a day of shooting was successfully completed? Or would he never feel the joy again when he saw you again after a long break in shooting, even though he would never admit it? A lump formed in his throat and he swallowed. Next to him Jared moved Misha away.

Suddenly, turmoil broke out again. The ambulance hurried to the set and immediately bent down to you. Jensen did not hear their words. But the doctor ordered two paramedics to lay you down on the stretcher. "Sir, you have to let go of her hand now," One of the paramedics told him. "N-no." Jensen shook his head violently. "I-I can't leave her alone." The very thought filled his stomach with nausea. His voice croaked. "I ask you only once more, Sir." But Jensen made no move. Suddenly, Jared grabbed him from behind and pulled him away. Jensen tried to fight back, but he was afraid to cause you more damage. "No! I can't leave her, Jared," he yelled in panic and tried to free himself from the iron grip of his best friend. "Sssh. It's okay, Jensen! It's gonna be okay! They're taking her to the hospital now," Jared explained calmly. But Jensen didn't take his words seriously.

"Let me be with her," Jensen pleaded. "Okay, it's okay, Jay. I'll take you to the hospital." Jensen shook his head. The paramedic cleared his throat because he felt sorry for the distraught man. "Family members are allowed to ride in the ambulance, so..." Even before he had finished the sentence, Jensen had already started running. Shoulder shrugging, Jared looked at the Doctor. "I'll catch up with my friend." He nodded at Misha, who was beside himself. The doctor nodded.

In the car, Jensen had already taken your hand. Gently he stroked the skin with his thumb, careful not to touch any of your wounds. The paramedics put you on all kinds of tubes and you still weren't conscious. Jensen got sick at the sight of all the wires running into your body. All the needles they stuck under your skin. Suddenly the ECG kicked in and your heartbeat started beating flat. "Fractures of the ribs 11 to 12. Craniocerebral trauma. Multiple contusions and a broken leg. Also some superficial lacerations." explained a paramedic. " Her condition is critical. She has sustained severe head injuries and internal bleeding cannot be ruled out. A hematoma is probably already forming. She must go to the O.R. immediately for a trepanation." The paramedic's gaze was serious as the ambulance reached the hospital. The doors of the ambulance were ripped open and the stretcher was taken out. Immediately, the paramedic informed the doctors and nurses of your state of health.

You were immediately taken to an operating room and Jensen was asked to take a seat in the waiting area. He wandered up and down nervously. Soon Misha and Jared arrived. Y/N's family would not arrive in Vancouver until tomorrow afternoon. So you had no family. A few hours later, one of the leading doctors arrived. "Gentlemen. Ms. L/N made it through the operation in good shape. We had to stabilize several fractures with screws and drill a hole in her skull to give the pressure room to dissipate." Jensen went pale. Jared pulled him into the seat next to him so he wouldn't faint. "It'll be a few more hours before she wakes up. She is now under the influence of strong painkillers, but you may see her now," the doctor explained. He gave the room number.

Jared came into the room with a cup of coffee for Jensen. Misha had gone home several hours ago to meet Y/N's parents in the afternoon. But Jensen had not left your side. Jared supplied him with coffee for the third time already and yawned tiredly. It was already 8 a.m. and they hadn't slept all night. "I'm leaving now, Jay. And you should rest too. She's fine. They'll let us know when she wakes up." But Jensen didn't answer. Jared put the coffee on a small table and left the room. Jensen sat by your bed and had trouble keeping his eyes open. The constant beeping of the ECG lulled him in and calmed him down.

When you woke up, your whole body felt numb. The painkillers clouded your mind and you didn't know where you were for a moment until it all came back to you. The accident.

You looked around the white room until your eyes fell on a blond mop of hair. Jensen's head was on your bed. His hand in yours. He had pressed his forehead against your hand in his sleep. Worry overshadowed his sleeping face. You were surprised. Gently you released your wired hand from his grip and stroked his cheek. At once he blinked and jumped up. "Y/N! You are awake! Oh, thank God!" You saw his eyes shimmer with tears of relief. "I thought I had lost you," he said and his voice broke. "Jensen, it's all right," you muttered reassuringly. He nodded, then closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When they opened again the green sparkled intensely.

"Y/N. I'm sorry for what I did. I was an ass. I want to apologize for all this. I acted like an idiot because I didn't know how to handle it, but -" He took a deep breath. "The truth is, I love you, Y/N."

Wanna get tagged? Check out the link in my bio or drop an ask/comment.

Jensen/Dean tags: @vicariouslythruspn @crazybutconfidentaf @zizzlekwum @ashthefirefox @outofnowhere82 @rintheemolion @myopiamystical @vicmc624 @imaginationisgrowth

#jensen ackles #jensen ackles x reader #jensen x reader #supernatural #supernatural fic #supernatural reader insert #spnfamily #spn cast #spn fandom #hurt #angst #fluff #reader insert #anonymous #requests

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nokomiss · 4 years

Note

For the prompt, how about Jason and Damian with Letter J? Thank you.

I didn’t forget this, @dn-ky! just got a little busy. Hope you enjoy!

There was a loud thumping noise and even louder cursing coming from the library.

Jason would normally keep walking, heading instead to the kitchen for that home cooked meal that Alfred had promised, but he recognized the voice. Damian sounded frustrated to the point of tears,which simply was not normal, and he had the feeling that if Tim or Bruce wandered by and chose to investigate, that Damian would buck up and become even more recalcitrant than usual.

He stood outside the door for a long moment, listening -- the cursing continued, though quieter, and with a single-minded determination that Jason almost admired. He sighed and pushed open the door. Damian was in the center of the room, surrounded by a small fortune’s worth of art supplies. This wouldn’t be unusual, except instead of Damian’s preferred sketchpads, pencils and paints, he was surrounded by hot glue guns, googly eyes, and various colorful bits of fluff.

“What the hell is all this?” Jason asked, nudging a pile of what looked like feathers dyed in primary colors with the toe of his boot.

“A nightmare,” Damian said darkly. There was a smear of blue paint on his nose; Jason was absolutely not going to tell him about it.

“So I see,” Jason said. There was a poster board in front of Damian that he was attempting to glue pipe cleaners along the edges of. It wasn’t going well, judging by the glops of glue and the sad state of the pipe cleaners. My Family, it proclaimed in colorful balloon letters. He was going to regret this, but… “Can I help?”

“No.” Damian abandoned the pipe cleaners and dug through the pile of craft supplies, coming up with some sparkly fuzzballs. He picked up the glue gun and began to affix them around a picture of Bruce. It looked as though Bruce was being attacked by muppets.

Jason gave one more thought to the home cooked meal; Alfred had promised him soup. He supposed that it would wait. Sit there simmering away while he granted mercy to the boy.

It would still be waiting on him. He sat down and grabbed some glue.

“You know who you should call?” Jason said a few minutes later after making the mistake of opening the glitter.

“Absolutely not.” Damian didn’t even look up from where he was adding sparkly letters under Jason’s picture. Jason leaned over to see what he was spelling out: RIP.

“You know how happy Steph gets when there’s glitter and you ask her for help,” Jason tried again. He could leave, he knew, but they were actually making progress and Damian was no longer cursing.

“No one else can know,” Damian said, probably trying for stern but it was undercut by the fact that glitter now cling to the paint on his nose. It was adorable. Jason was going to take a pic the second the kid’s attention was turned and use it as blackmail for years.

Then he noticed what Damian was doing. “Hey, those flames better be because of how fire I am, not because of anything theological.”

Damian lowered the flame sticker and put it to the side, leaving the picture of fifteen year old Jason unmarred.

“So why are you going this overboard?” Jason asked. Damian had a tendency to overdo things, sure, but this was hardly his style.

Damian focused on adding a poop emoji sticker over Tim’s picture. When he spoke, his voice was quiet. Embarrassed. “This is a redo.”

“A redo— Damian, did you fail an assignment?” Jason forgot what he was doing and accidentally let a puddle of glitter glue form. “Shit,” he muttered, attempting to mop it up.

Damian’s silence spoke volumes. Jason looked again at the mountain of colorful, sparkly supplies and did the math. “Did your teacher suggest more color?”

“She said my first attempt was austere and depressing,” Damian admitted.

Jason narrowed his eyes. “Show me.”

Damian shook his head. “It doesn’t matter.” He carefully drew an elaborate border around Cass’s picture in purple marker.

Jason thought it did matter. He stood up, brushing stray bits of glitter off his pants -- these were his work pants, too, he was going to be leaving a glitter trail on the rooftops of Gotham tonight -- and headed for Damian’s backpack, which was laying near the door. Like the kid had dropped it on his way in, which, again, not like him.

Damian was so focused on his art that he didn’t realize Jason’s plan at first.

The poster board was folded up and crammed into the back pocket of the backpack, and Jason almost looked it over at first. It was dark enough to blend in.Then -- just as Damian launched himself at Jason and attempted to stop him from opening it, Jason easily dodged him and opened it anyway.

It was austere, the teacher had been right on that count. But the effort Damian had put in to capture the family’s aesthetic was incredible-- dark grey poster board, black and white pictures of each family member, with a careful description beneath each. No further decoration, but it was clean and classic, and reminded Jason of the lines of the Wayne building downtown.

Then he realized that the black and white pictures were actually sketches of each family member. Bruce looking on with approval, arms crossed over his chest. Dick laughing, a spoonful of cereal halfway to his mouth. Tim grinning with a gaming controller gripped in both hands, clearly gleeful from a victory. Cass caught mid-pirouette, lines of her body clean and graceful. Duke with a soft smile, like he wasn’t quite sure how he’d ended up there, but was glad for it. Alfred, mouth quirked up in that smirk he got so often when watching them. Even Talia, the pencil marks soft enough to make her seem almost gentle.

And there was even Jason. Damian had left his face unfinished enough that he looked like the child he’d been before his death, though the smile was the same.

Damian had even included pictures of the pets, carefully and lovingly rendered.

“What the fuck,” Jason said. “Why are we creating this monstrosity when you did this?”

“My teacher doesn’t believe that I did it,” Damian said stiffly.”She said I was to do another one unassisted.”

“Your teacher’s an asshole,” Jason said. “This is incredible.”

He looked back at the mess of glitter, glue, and various craft supplies that was drying on the floor. “You know what we should do?”

“We are not hanging that up,” Damian said stiffly. Jason shook his head. “I think we should go egg your teacher’s house.”

Damian scrunched up his nose. “I don’t think--”

“If you think that Robin and Red Hood can’t manage to egg one house without getting caught…”

“I didn’t say that,” Damian said stiffly.

“Then come on,” Jason said, folding the poster back up. “You can turn in the new one tomorrow. But tonight? Sweet revenge.”

Damian hesitated a moment more before succumbing to his desire for vengeance.

He even got caught up enough in gathering egging supplies that he didn’t notice that Jason took the poster.

#my fic #jason todd #damian wayne #batfamily #dn-ky

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deathsshadow · 4 years

Text

I gasped and forced my eyes open, taking in the sun shining through the half-blinded windows, the lights throwing shadows off the dozens of boxes littering my room. Groaning I rubbed my forehead, clearing sleep and the dark mat of hair out of my eyes before wrestling the tangled mess of blankets from my body and made my way to the adjoining bathroom.

The sudden shock of cold water woke me up and brought me fully back to reality. I stared at the mirror for a few minutes, just talking in my pale complexion. My black hair still fell across my forehead and I had to move it back to look at my face, at my eyes. My whole life I’d been told I looked like my father and they were right, except for my eyes. They were my mother’s, one of the many strange things I had inherited from her.

One of my eyes was a bright crystal blue while the other was what she used to call ‘ghost grey’, a blue that was so pale it was almost translucent. For most of my childhood she forced me to wear contacts, “to avoid suspicion” she always said, but I never knew why. Right now the lenses rested in their case on the sink, never used. Once I turned fifteen I figured I was old enough to just not care what people think of me.

Also on the sink were my variations of meds: pills for depression and to help with sleep and some sort of experimental thing that was supposed to help with ‘hallucinations’. I huffed at the thought but reached for the cartons anyway, taking a few of each and gulping them down with a mouthful of water even though I knew they wouldn’t help. Sighing I twisted the caps back on before just tossing them into the bin, I’d tell dad I lost them during the move and we might even find a stronger type later, besides this prescription was about to run out anyway.

Throwing on the only clean clothes I had that weren’t already packed I made my way downstairs. Dad was already in the kitchen, sitting at the table with a newspaper in his hand and a coffee cup in front of him. The kitchen like my room was full of boxes.

“Morning Sal,” dad said not even glancing up from the paper, his hand instinctively reaching for the coffee in front of him.

“Morning,” I replied, taking the opposite seat at the small wooden table, eyeing the cup hopefully, “can I have some coffee?”

My father sipped his drink before regarding me, “did you take your medicine?”

“Yes,” I told him truthfully

“Then no,” he said simply finishing the drink, “you know what caffeine does to you while on your meds.”

I sighed and went to pour myself a bowl of cereal. Back at the table however my appetite left after one small bite so I just sat there and watched the flakes go soft in the milk. Finally dad finished the paper and folded it, placing it on the table beside him, only then did he actually look at me and took in my pale appearance.

sighing he leant forwards and laced his fingers together, “bad night?”

i shrugged, trying to act casually about it and stirred the spoon around my untouched breakfast, “just tired. all this packing.”

dad sighed again before smiling, reaching over to ruffle my hair, an action he hadn’t done since i was a child.

“it’ll be okay kid,” he promised, “once we head out we can start a new life. things will get better, you’ll see.”

after that he got up and made his way over to the sink, preparing to wash up the dishes. I waited a few minutes before finally caving in under my overwhelming feelings. Sighing i slouched back in my seat.

“I dreamt about mum last night,” I admitted, my voice cracking halfway through my sentence as an unwanted tear welled in the corner of my eye.

The clatter of plates caused me to glance up. Dad stood paralysed, hands in the sink, the dishes left forgotten. He had his back towards me but i could easily feel his emotions, the same feelings was currently running through me as well.

Finally after a few more fretful minutes he turned to glance back at my slumped form. He sighed and pulled the plug before running his wet, soap covered fingers through his hair and dried his hands on a tea-towel, then refilled his cup with fresh coffee.

“here,” he said, placing it down in front of me, “you look like you need it.”

i stared up at him with as much shock as i could force my tired face to show, “but… what about my meds?”

he shrugged, “well, they don’t seem to be working anyway, so…”

at this i practically grabbed hold of the mug and downed half the drink, ignoring the liquid as it burned my throat. as soon as it hit my stomach however a sudden flash blinded my vision, scenes from my past and even worse things flashing by in fast precision, a ringing buzz filling my head. Gasping out in pain i pressed my shaking hands against my temples as the buzzing became horrid screams. suddenly my stomach lurched and i rushed to the slowly draining sink, emptying both the caffeine and useless tablets out of my system. that was when i reminded myself that i just hated coffee.

bringing myself back i wiped my mouth clear with a hand, feeling the sweat trickle down my neck. i could hear dad sighing in the background.

“maybe next time,” he said as i turned to face him. slowly he cleared his throat, fidgeting slightly under my accusing gaze before adding, “speaking of which, shouldn’t you go say goodbye to Toby? it’ll be a while till you get to see him again.”

His question forced me back to the current situation. Sighing i lowered my head and, nodding sadly, made my way to the backdoor. this was one of the things i was dreading, having to say goodbye to a good friend. one of my only friends...

...

He spotted me the moment i exited the door. Giving a happy bark the large black hound bounded forwards, only to be pulled back by the heavy chain holding him down. Whimpering he sat back and scratched irritably at the shabby red collar.

Smiling sadly at his pathetic expression i closed the door, making my way over to unclip him. The moment he was untied he gave a loud yelp of excitement and bowled me over, forcing me down easily. I gave a genuine laugh and pushed him back just enough to sit up, scratching him behind the ears. He whined happily and tilted his head back against my palm, staring at me with his mix-matched eyes.

I had Toby ever since i was a kid, my auntie got him for me for my twelfth birthday. None of us knew what breed he was, some kind of cross-mix by the look of him. He was large and dark, with thick fur, pointed ears and a long bony tail. But the main reason my aunt got him for me was because of his eyes, they were just like mine, blue and grey. shiny and bright.

“Hey bud, it’s good to see you too,” i laughed as he licked my hand and then my cheek.

Smiling i pushed him back again so i could wipe my face clear. As the minutes drifted by my expression started to slip. Giving a small sigh i placed a hand against the dog’s head. He whimpered instantly at the touch, probably picking up on my emotions.

“Listen bud,” i muttered, placing both hands along his long head, forcing us to make eye-contact, “I’m going to go away for a while and i... won’t be able to bring you with me...”

He gave another sad whimper like he understood what i was saying and once again i could feel tears welling in my good eye. Wiping them quickly away i wrapped both arms around him, pulling him close for a hug.

“... I’m going to miss you...”

“— don’t worry, we’ll take good care of him.”

Sniffing I glanced up, shocked but not entirely surprised by the sudden voice.

She was standing in the shadow of the house, leaning confidently against the wall, which was probably why i hadn’t noticed her sooner. She was wearing ripped, faded blue jeans covered entirely in brightly coloured paint and marker stains, a long purple t-shirt and a short black coat. Her spiky black hair was cut short and styled in a way that i could only describe as punk-ish. She had a wide smile on her face.

Smiling back at her i wiped my eyes clear.

“Thanks Ace,” i muttered quietly.

Her smile widened at my response.

My cousin, who’s actual name is Ashley White, was exactly what I should have been, what i wished i had been, having inherited the Prince’s family genetics. Although both our hair was raven, a black so dark and shiny in was almost blue, she had been lucky enough to also inherit those bright emerald eyes, and the normality of sight that came with it.

Although i was admittedly a little jealous of this i never actually resented her, in-fact it was the exact opposite. I loved her. She was the best cousin i could have ever hoped for. Even if she was a little annoying at times...

Stepping out of the shadows she crossed her arms and studied me, tilting her head to the side.

“You look terrible,” she shot out, her words dripping with sarcasm

“...very funny...” i muttered, stroking my pet’s head.

She smiled before dropping the act, becoming the true caring and loving girl i knew. Making her way over she knelt down beside me.

“I’m serious,” she said, actually sounding like it, tucking her hands under her knees, “what’s wrong?”

It took a few minutes for me to say anything, but I’ve never lied to her and holding something back, keeping silent when i was hurting, too me at least was the same as lying. i sighed and gave in.

“I had the dream again,” i admitted, staring blankly off into nothing.

Ace’s eyes widened and her face went pale, but she shifted closer as if i had just informed her on some sort of secret, like a child finding out about a hidden birthday present.

“Was it there?” She asked, “i mean, like... did you see it?”

I nodded, absently running my fingers through the dog’s thick, black fur, “i did. Clearer than ever...”

Climbing to her feet she grabbed hold of my hand, “come on, let’s go to my room. Then you can tell me in detail.”

Nodding i followed her up, re-clipping the ratted old collar back on and saying a hurried, and final, goodbye to Toby.

...

The door to Ace’s room was always kept closed for her privacy and no one was allowed in without her permission, whether she was in the room or not. A plaque on the door read: ASHLEY WHITE’S ROOM DO NOT ENTER, but someone (Ace) had gone over it with red paint and had written: ACE’S.

I snickered a little at the sight, remembering how that whole scenario came about. That name had come around when we were kids, playing our own make-believe version of cards seeing as we were too young to have learned the original rules. She was always trying to hide things, but her smile always gave her away. When i called her out on it she snickered in a way she thought was evil and threw down her hand-made card.

“Bam, ace of fours. I win!”

I snorted at her failed scheme and scolded her, saying that an ace of four wasn’t even a real card. She pulled a face and muttered: “what-ever...” and ever since then it had become a sort of nick-name.

Slowly i brought myself back to the present as Ace pushed her door open. Flicking on the light she nodded for me to enter...

Entering her room was like entering an art studio, it was wrong to even think about calling it a bedroom. From floor to ceiling, even littered along the floor, were hundreds if not thousands of paintings, sketches, drawings, you name it. If someone was to mention something about one of her drawings she’d only scoff and say that it wasn’t even her best work, but i knew better. She had basic sketches that looked as if they could have been taken from an art museum. Even her worst was better than anything i ever drew.

Ace motioned me over to her bed and I obediently sat, curling my feet up silently. Making her way over to her overflowing desk she slipped out a large folio and a broken stick of charcoal. Slowly she flipped through the pages, looking for a clean slate. Each page she passed—much like the rest of her room— pictured a dark illustration of my nightmare. The black, horned shadow appearing to creep closer the more pages she turned.

Finally she found a blank page. Picking up her chunk of charcoal and a plain red pencil she asked me to recite my dreams to her. Tucking my knees up under my chin i obeyed, allowing the faint sounds of drawing to put me under a sort of trance.

The minuets blurred together as i spoke, eyes shut tight as the memories flooded through my mind. Then came the loud, sudden snap of the charcoal that forced me out of my nightmare back to the present, the creature’s glowing red eyes still burning through my retinas.

I sat there, curled up and shivering as Ace blew away the excess charcoal dust, brushing at the page almost lovingly to made sure it didn’t smudge. not once did she turn back to look at me. I didn’t mind, I actually appreciated the few minutes free time, giving me the chance to wipe the invisible tears and calm myself from the relived fright.

Finally she raised the page up to admire her art, the evil stare of the beast glowing right off the page, the blood red gaze so lifelike it was like it was staring right at me. I shuddered at the thought and turned away, re-closing my eyes. Unfortunately Ace took notice of my movement and turned to face me with a look that almost resembled guilt. She placed the page back down and made like she was going to say something when she was interrupted by the sudden, almost reassuring voice of her mother calling out to us.

“Salazar? Ashley? Are you there? The moving van’s here. Let’s go!”

We both let out a breath at the same time. I had no idea what Ace was sighing about, but i was sighing out of relief at not having to keep that image in my head any longer. Putting on a smile she slipped her drawing into a drawer and got up to walk over to me. Giving a small nod i joined her and together we left her room.

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steverogersxreader · 5 years

Text

Hikes

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Words: 1766

Warnings: none. this is straight fluff.

AN: I found a bunch of prompts I saved in a google doc as well as tons of fics that are partially written, so I decided to slowly get back into writing to finish already started fics for practice before I write your requests. enjoy.

Clutching your chest, you stopped walking and tried to catch your breath. You stared out at the scene in front of you, the luscious green trees as far as your eyes could see over the small hilled forest. You were never a huge exercise fan, but on the occasion, you made the exception to spend time with your boyfriend. But right now, you were wishing that you hadn’t.

“Doll,” you heard from up ahead. “Are you okay?”

You turned and your eyes met his soft blue gaze. “Why did I let you talk me into this?” You asked as you chuckled. Steve walked back towards you.

He smiled as he reached you. “So, you’re not having fun?”

“It’s not that this isn’t fun,” you took a moment to catch your breath before finishing. “It’s that I didn’t expect a constant uphill climb for the first twenty minutes. My legs are already killing me.”

He stood with his hands loosely on his hips with a smirk on his face. “I promise it’s not all this bad.”

“Oh, good. So, you agree that this is bad?” You asked, practically cutting him off.

Steve chuckled at you again. “It’s not that bad.”

“That’s easy for you to say. You were literally built for things like this.”

Steve slowly walked over to you and slightly leaned his head down while staring at you, his taunting eyes never leaving yours. “Well, it’s only because of the serum that I’m able to do things with my best girl.” He reached out with his hand and grabbed your hip, pulling you to him.

“Flirting will get you nowhere.” You stated as you tried to pull away from his grip.

“Flirting was what got you here in the first place.” He said as he smirked at you, letting you step away from him. He reached up and took the backpack off of his back, reaching out and handing it to you.

You furrowed your eyebrows and took the bag from him as he turned around. Bending slightly forward and reaching his arms behind him, you smiled to yourself. “Hop on,” he commanded. You hoisted the bag onto your back and walked over to him. Placing your hands on his shoulders, you jumped up as he grabbed your legs, wrapping them around his waist as you tightly grasped his neck to steady yourself. “Just don’t choke me,” Steve said as you loosened your grip around his neck.

“Sorry,” You apologized instantly.

He laughed again as he started walking back up the trail. “It’s fine, doll.”

You had to admit that the walk was nice. It was relaxing to be able to take a break from your busy lives to enjoy a scenic hike through the woods. His life as an Avenger often imposed a weird and never steady work schedule. Moments like now where he was able to break away from the missions and chaos of Shield were special, and he always wanted to spend those rare moments with you.

As Steve continued to walk up the hill, you chuckled softly to yourself as you felt every muscle in his back move with each step he took. God, he was ripped. But that didn’t stop his body from growing stronger. Working out with him often led to tensions growing high as it sometimes felt like he was your personal trainer, always pushing you harder and longer than you wanted to go. You weren’t out of shape by any means, but you also weren’t built like a super soldier. He understood that, but there was a tiny part of him that enjoyed pushing you to do your best in those situations where you wanted to quit. He liked being the reason to egg you on and make you frustrated to the point where you wanted to kill him. He was a true leader, and sometimes, that annoyed you to your core.

After walking a considerable distance, you could see a clearing up ahead. As Steve approached, he stopped and gently placed you back on the ground. The two of you walked in unison to the area where the sun was brightly shining through the break in the trees with a worn down, wooden platform meticulously perched in what felt like the middle of nothing.

“How cute,” you stated as you stepped up onto the platform, walking to the edge where a fence prevented one from going further. Steve followed you into the sunlight.

“A few years back when the trails were carved out, Tony hired someone to put this here as a marker. Both to signal the halfway point on this trail, but also as the spot with the best view.” He explained. You glanced up at him, the sun illuminating the small amount of sweat just under his hairline on his face. Smiling, you looked back out over the treetops. In the distance, you could see one of the buildings near the Compound, where you had started. The trees decorated the landscape in a small downward slope towards the concrete buildings. It’s was beautifully poetic that in the midst of the practically untouched landscape there was a giant institution that inhabited the center of the space.

You swallowed and smiled again, the calming noises of the woods bringing you peace. Steve reached and grabbed the pack from your shoulders. You let it slide off as he took it and opened up the large pocket. Fumbling around for a moment, you watched as he pulled out a sandwich in a plastic bag and handed it to you. You laughed. “Wow, you packed a lunch,” you said as you took the sandwich.

Steve pulled out an identical one and swung the bag over his arm so it rested on one shoulder. “I like to be prepared for anything.” He said as he took a bite from the middle of his sandwich and smiled at you. You giggled as you began to eat your own sandwich.

The two of you stood in silence while staring off in the distance at the world in front of you as you ate. It was such a contrasting moment from the hectic day-to-day hustle of your lives. You leaned on your elbows on the fence railing as you chomped on your food, taking in the scene. The peaceful birds chirping, the leaves quietly rusting as the wind blew, the constant hum of bugs hiding away in the foliage, the rhythmic pace of Steve’s breathing from beside you.

“You know I love you, right?” You heard Steve say, breaking the silence.

You looked at him and smiled while shaking your head, “Of course I know that. Why do you ask?”

Steve looked away from you for a moment, blinking, trying to find his words. “It’s just, I know you don’t like this sort of thing and you’re only doing it because I asked you and —“

“Steve,” You cut him off. “Honey, I mean, yes I do this sort of thing because you ask me to, but I do it because I love you and want to spend time with you.”

Steve looked back at you. He fumbled with what little remained of his sandwich for a moment. “I just want you to know that you don’t have to do these things to please me. I’ll love you no matter if you go on hikes with me or lay in bed watching a movie.”

You stood up straight and moved closer to him, he turned his torso to face you. “Steve, don’t ever doubt how much I love spending time with you even if I hate what we are doing.” You reached your neck up and gave him a quick kiss on his cheek. “But don’t doubt that I’ll also go home and lay in bed watching movies all night with you either. You have your own particular skill set and I have mine.” Steve chuckled and stared in your eyes.

He stood still for a moment before you saw his eyes widen. “Okay.” He simply said and shoved the rest of his sandwich in his mouth. He quickly dropped the backpack from his shoulder and nearly ripped open the smallest pocket, fumbling around as he tried not to drop the bag.

“Steve, what are you doing?” You questioned, but he kept digging in the bag. You furrowed your eyebrows at him despite him paying no attention to you.

You heard him let out a breath that you couldn’t tell he was holding in. He let the bag fall to the ground with a thud. You watched as he lowered himself to the ground, you assumed he was going to pick it up. Steve held his ground and stared up at you while holding his position on one knee.

“Y/N,” he took a breath as your own mouth fell open slightly as you began to realize what was happening. “I’ve been waiting.. so long to do this. I tried to find the right moment, to even try to make the moment right. But it never worked. I thought Sam was joking when he said that I would just know the right moment because it never came…” he chuckled. “Until now.”

“Steve…” you closed your mouth and tried to hide your smile.

“Y/N, my life is complicated. It always has been. There have been plenty of moments in my long life that I was unsure about and plenty more that I’ve regretted. And I don’t want that to happen again. I can’t let that happen again. So, Y/N,” Steve lifted his hands only to show them clutching a small black box. He opened the lid to expose a beautiful silver ring that held a simple diamond. “I know that you’re the one thing that I want in my life for as long as time allows. I would be honored if you would marry me.”

For a moment, you stood in awe. This was the last thing you had been expecting, but it seemed like for Steve, he had been thinking about it for awhile. You smiled down at him. “Steve, of course I will.”

Steve smiled largely up at you, nearly holding back his excitement. He reached and pulled the ring out of its box and placed it on your finger. He clasped the box shut as he stood up, you both reaching for the other. You wrapped your arms around his neck as he wrapped his around your waist. The two of you carefully placed your lips together and stood for a moment as you both smiled against the other.

#mine #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fic #captain america x reader #captain america fanfic #steve rogers one shot #captain america one shot #steve rogers x you #captain america x you #fluff

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thehanwen · 5 years

Text

Notes Part 1

Pairing: Klaus x Reader

Summary: Klaus gets out of rehab and tries to reunite with an old friend, but his addiction gets in the way. They do meet up eventually, cuddles happen.

Warnings: Canon Character Death? Mentions of drugs

Word Count: 2,229

A/N: So this is the first writing work that I have posted here. Its fluffy and cute. I just love Klaus a lot. I’ve written before but the tua community has just really inspired me to share this story. I tried to keep the reader gender neutral to include everyone. I hope you like it! Feel free to message me with critiques or feedback. Thanks to @octavia-marie-blake for the help!

Your stairs creaked as you climb to your third floor apartment, arms full of groceries. Maybe too many groceries, but you abided by the very strict one-trip rule. Plus you’re not climbing these god damned stairs again. You struggle to fit the key into the lock and once the door does swing open you drop your armful of bags onto the floor in shock. Your things are strewn everywhere; books on the floor, furniture turned over, couch cushions in the kitchen, even the mattress was lying askew. Someone had been here. Your apartment was broken into! Your finger lingers over the last 1 in 911, when you notice a note on the table. You put your phone down and look at it, curious.

Hey Y/N,

Out of rehab! Woo! Be back later

…Sorry about the mess

It was written in purple marker and there was a tilted smiley face in place of a signature. You could tell from the rough handwriting that it was Klaus. Sometimes you wonder why you care about that asshole. For half a second you can’t figure out what he was looking for. All of your possessions seem to still be here, just scattered about. That’s when you realize, the money. That man couldn’t stay clean for 2 hours after getting out of rehab! You sigh and run your hand through your hair, as you walk to the bathroom to check your medicine cabinet. Sure enough, the emergency cash you keep in an old pill bottle is gone. You’re gonna have to think of more creative hiding spots for that. You’re not surprised, but you do wish he had just waited until you got back. You could have helped him. You’ve done it before. Reaching into your pocket you fiddle with the wrapper of the present you picked up for him. If only he had waited just a little bit longer. Sighing, you return to your discarded groceries and realize the drop must have broken some eggs, as there is a clear liquid leaking out of one of the bags. Great.

You manage to clean that up and get your apartment back in order, before falling into bed. You were exhausted after a double shift at the bar, but had a hard time actually sleeping. You were anxious about Klaus, where was he? When was he coming back? How did he get in, in the first place? Obviously he wasn’t going to be sober. You get up and decide to leave your own note. You tape it to the outside of your door and head back to bed, too tired to wait any longer.

Earlier.

Klaus knew exactly who he wanted to see when he got of rehab. He bee-lined to your apartment, but found it locked. He pouted and stomped his foot at the door like that would magically unlock it. He trudged back down stairs when, of course, it did nothing. As he was walking down the alley he noticed the fire escape. A crazy plan popped into his head, so of course he executed it and was sneaking into your apartment within the span of 5 minutes.

He had every intention of just waiting until you came home and he did, for about 15 minutes. He checked out your nick-knacks, listened to whatever was on your stereo, and lounged on your bed, but an itch crept over his skin and ghostly screams wailed in the distance. All of a sudden he couldn’t take it anymore. He knew you kept some emergency cash around, all he had to do was find it. He felt guilty about it, but you knew each other well and after all this was an emergency. Actually he hated that he had to steal from you. But he had to. He could feel the lack of drugs in his veins more than he ever felt them when they were there. The ghosts were starting to reappear and they pressed into his consciousness and it terrified him. He entered into a kind of frenzy looking for the money, he knew he had trashed your place, but it didn’t really hit him until after he found what he was looking for.

“Aha!” He cried as he pulled a wad of cash out of a pill bottle. He kissed the money and then recoiled at the taste. Ben looked at him disapprovingly. “What?”

Ben turned his gaze to the ruined apartment. Klaus followed suit. He surveyed his handy work, seeing it for the first time, and grimaced. Oops.

“You are gonna clean this up, at least, right?” Ben said.

“Of course” Klaus waved his hand, as if to dispel Ben’s energy.

Ben wasn’t convinced.

Klaus could feel the symptoms of withdrawal getting worse. Without the goal of getting more, it was all he could think about. The ghosts screamed his name and it was getting louder. Soon it would be all he could hear. He needed relief. He fiddled with the fur on his coat as he desperately tried to control himself. He wanted to fix everything. He wanted to wait until you got back. He wanted to see you. But he needed his drugs more. Righting a lamp on your side table quickly was all he could manage before his addiction pulled his gaze back to the window where he entered.

“There! See? I helped” He said, spreading his arms in a half bow. Ben rolled his eyes. Klaus was halfway out the window when he thought better of just leaving and went back to scrawl a quick note, leaving it on the table.

He woke violently as electricity ran through his body. He gasped for breath and felt a rough tingling fade from his chest, through his limbs. His heart beat as fast as it could. This was almost as good as the high! He took a deep shuttering breath, letting the adrenaline course through his veins. He felt so alive! His smile over took his whole face as he put his hand up for a high-five from the paramedic, who obliged. They were good friends, after at least a dozen similar ambulance rides. That’s when a flicker of motion from the little television in the corner caught his attention. He squinted and blinked a couple times in disbelief at the news story about Reginald Hargreeves’ death.

The world seemed to slow and speed up at the same time for Klaus. He was having a hard time processing the actions of others. People rushed around him and he could only stand there like he was in slow motion, but no one else was. By the time they let him out of the hospital, he could at least hold a thought in his head.

He tried not to care about if his dad was dead or not. Why should he, the man never gave a shit about him or his siblings. He did some really awful stuff that Klaus would rather not think about. Despite all that, Klaus couldn’t bring himself to not care, though he would never admit that to his family. He knew Reginald would die eventually, he was old after all. He’d been old since Klaus could remember. But why should he feel like this. The man was awful. He only called them by their numbers! Number 4 this, Number 4 that, You’re a disappointment Number 4. He shouldn’t be sad, shouldn’t me mourning. He should be grateful that the old bastard couldn’t hurt anyone else. But he was still their dad, and now he was gone. This cyclical line of thinking led to some pretty confused and conflicted emotions in Klaus. Plus he was coming down from his high, which just made it worse. Klaus felt a wetness run down his cheek. He didn’t know when he started crying and he didn’t bother to wipe it away. He wandered aimlessly through the streets after he left the hospital, looking for a fix. He had nowhere to go. Though he supposed he should go back to the academy at some point. But not yet, he just wanted to feel numb and avoid this confused jumble of emotions. After a while he looked up and found himself in front of Y/N’s building once again. Forgoing the fire escape for the stairs, he climbed to the third floor and stopped in front of your door, where a large note with KLAUS written on the front was taped at eye-level. He ripped it off the door and turned it over.

Klaus,

I don’t know how you got in last time, but do that again. I’m not leaving my door unlocked while I’m sleeping and I don’t have a spare key. I’m still mad about the apartment, but I hope you’re okay.

Please come back… I miss you

-Y/N

Klaus lingered on the last part of the note. He knew he missed Y/N, but he never thought that they would feel the same. Y/N was always there for him. They’d helped him through a lot of heavy shit and he had tried his best to return the favor, but he knew he was a lot to handle and he never expected anything from them. He gingerly touched the words ‘I miss you’ and read them a few more times to let it sink in. Someone wanted him. Not just for his powers. Not just because they had to. Someone wanted him for him, despite all his problems, regardless of his addiction. He was even more excited to see Y/N now. He crumpled the note in his hand and stuffed into his pocket, a smile creeping its way across his face. He reached for the doorknob, turned it. It was locked.

Klaus sighed. Of course Y/N didn’t leave the door open. It was in the note too. How had he forgotten that. Y/N could never just make it easy could they? He ran back down the stairs and to the fire escape. Looking up at the height he sighed again, exasperated, and hefted himself up to start the climb.

You vaguely heard a tapping noise at your window, but were too asleep to respond. It was warm here, whatever that was could deal with itself. You just rolled over in bed and pulled the blanket up farther. Mmm warm.

Next a pressure on your arm jolts you awake. Your eyes snap open and you sit up fast, lashing out with your arms and almost hitting Klaus in the face before you realize its him.

“WOAH, Woah It’s just your friendly neighborhood junkie” Klaus cries out, holding his hands up and stumbling back from the bed.

“Klaus?” you say, almost disbelieving.

“Yeah, Doll, me” He looks at you quietly, taking you in after such a long time. His face softens as he studies you. You noticed the bags under his eyes were deeper, he hadn’t been sleeping and his eyeliner was smudged like he had been crying. He looked skinnier, his close hung off him in a different way. His hair was a mess, but it glistened in the moonlight streaming through the window. His cheek bones and jaw line made a striking outline in the low-light. He was beautiful. His eyes caught the light too, sparkling green. They always held so much emotion, but you could almost never decipher it all. You reached out your hand toward his face, wanting nothing more than to hold him.

“c’m’ere” you mumble.

He is even quieter now, as he tentatively comes back to the bed. He pauses, hesitating, before he shakes his hands at you, gesturing for you to scooch so he can lie down. He throws off his jacket, shirt, and pants and climbs into the space you made. He shuffles over the mattress, getting as close to you as physically possible. Laying his head on your chest, he curls up so his hand is on your stomach and his legs are somehow in your legs. He holds you tight, like he never wants to let go. You always loved how cuddly Klaus was. It was what got you through the hard times, anxiety, depression, you name it. Klaus was there for you. This is why you put up with so much of his chaotic life. Though you had to admit his party attitude was also fun on occasion.

You lean into his frame, playing with his hair and rubbing his arm in a slow rhythm. All of these sensations make Klaus exhale deeply and melt into you, finally relaxing. You take a deep breath too, inhaling Klaus’ scent like it was a freshly dry blanket. He smelled like pot, alcohol and strawberry hair product and you loved it. You’re about to fall asleep again when he mumbles something into your skin. You perk up, but don’t open your eyes, enjoying the softness of his skin on yours.

“hm?”

“I missed you. I needed you” he mumbles again, slightly louder. You thought you could hear a hint of desperation behind his words. As emphasis to his confession, he snuggles closer to you. You wonder how long he had wanted to say that.

“I missed you too, Klaus, you mean so much to me” You say, trying to match his level of emotion. You kiss his head, catching another whiff of strawberry, before falling into the most peaceful sleep you’ve had in a long time.

#klaus hargreeves #the umbrella academy #tua #klaus hargreeves x reader #umbrella academy klaus #ben hargreeves

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shes-soparticular · 5 years

Text

Every Little Part of Me is Holding on to Every Little Piece of You

A/N: Part 2 of 2. Angst with some fluffiness. Since this is written in the third person and isn’t really reader based, I gave her a name this time, Alex. Feel free to imagine it as it suits you! Special thanks to Boyz II Men for all the 90s R&B inspo.

Part 1 here - http://shes-soparticular.tumblr.com/post/183635045865/take-me-back-to-the-start

Words: 2845

As soon as he hits the bottom of his fourth cup of coffee, the mile markers finally reach the end of their countdown. Chicago’s skyline stretches out before him in the distance, lighting the night sky and bringing him an odd mixture of excitement and fear. He’s spent all 7 hours of his drive practicing what he’ll say to Alex, the monologues shifting with the state lines. While he had a million thoughts he wanted to express to her, complete with thousands of promises and apologies, it really all boiled down to one sentiment. He loved her, with every last fiber of his being, and he just prayed that was enough. Of course he knew this could all blow up in his face. She’d asked for space and time and six days (now seven, at this late hour) didn’t seem to fulfill that request. There was a distinct possibility she wouldn’t take this as a grand gesture but rather a rejection of her needs. But somewhere around the halfway point, he let go of worrying about that risk. If he could look her in the eyes and speak to her, tell her everything he should have said the night she left, at least things would be out in the open. At least she would know he wasn’t about to give up this fight.

Exiting the freeway and turning on to Chicago’s city streets, traffic slows as late night revelers pour out of the bars and into their Ubers. It’s close to three in the morning and he’s lost an hour with the time change, but he’s never felt more awake. His muscle memory seemingly kicks in, putting him into auto-pilot as the neighborhood becomes familiar. Alex had lived in that old Greystone with Erica when they’d first met, the small apartment serving as a refuge for them on many nights early in their relationship. His heart ached for those days, when their love was still a secret kept between the two of them. When they’d still been able to shut out the rest of the world and all of the responsibilities that came with it. It wasn’t to say that her move to Toronto hadn’t been a much needed step for the both of them, but going public had certainly popped the bubble they’d been living in.

He takes the first parking spot he sees, knowing full well it’s probably a tow zone. This night was going to have one of two outcomes and he couldn’t imagine giving a shit about a parking ticket either way. Within seconds, he finds himself standing outside of familiar Greystone and suddenly the courage he’d built up doesn’t seem to be enough to drive him to ring the buzzer. Fate intervenes as he lingers and a couple he vaguely remembers from the prior year stumbles together up the steps. The way the girl is walking backwards, hands in her boyfriend’s back jean pockets, giggling into his neck as he fumbles with the keys, gives Shawn instant flashbacks to all the summer nights he and Alex had done the very same dance. The couple doesn’t notice him immediately, brushing passed in their drunken daze. As the boyfriend works on unlocking the door, the girl glances over her lover’s shoulder at Shawn with a stare of recognition. “I knew I saw Alex this week, you’re here with her, right?” Even though it was essentially a lie, he was here for Alex but not with her, he nodded anyways. That was enough for the girl to detach from her boyfriend and hold the door open for Shawn. “Tell her and Erica we’re sorry in advance for any noise tonight.” For a second, he’s reluctant to go in. This feels a little like cheating and he wonders if he owes Alex the opportunity to deny his buzz. However, the part of him that’s desperate for her to hear what he has to say, even if from behind one closed door, considers this must be fate’s way of getting him closer. With another polite nod, he follows them into the building, heading straight for the stairs. He takes them two at a time and reaches the third floor, his palms going sweaty at the sight of the door that used to welcome him. From the hallway, he can hear the sound of ‘Water Runs Dry’ drifting from behind the door and breathes a sigh of relief that at least he won’t be waking anyone up out of a dead sleep. Granted, knowing that his girlfriend is likely up at three am listing to breakup songs isn’t the best omen either. Not allowing himself another moment of hesitation, he reaches up and knocks on the door. Now or never.

A solid minute passes before he hears footsteps from within the apartment, approaching the door with caution. It creaks open painfully slow, latch still clearly on. But the one green iris he sees peeking out nearly stops his heart. Her eye is red and puffy, obviously weary from crying. Before he can open his mouth, the door shuts again but luckily with the telltale sound of the chain lock being undone. When the door opens all the way, he drinks in the sight of her. Even with her hair pulled into a messy, unkempt ponytail and her face blotchy and tear stained, she’s by far the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen. The fact that she’s wearing one of his old hoodies sends a warmth through his veins. It takes every ounce of strength not to pull her right into his arms, to kiss away those tears. “Shawn?” Alex’s voice cracks, a look of bewilderment on her face. “What are you doing here?”

He doesn’t want to launch into his declaration just yet, his mind preoccupied with the sight of her. “I…I had to see you. I went out for a drive and this is where I ended up.” She seems to process this information for a moment, finally moving aside with a silent invitation for him to come in. He steps passed her carefully, shoving his hands in his pockets to force himself not to touch her. Maybe it’s the caffeine, maybe it’s the nerves, but he swears his heart is racing at a thousand beats per minute. He’s accustomed to her being this calming force, his touchstone that brought him down to earth. So this is a new feeling, one that he doesn’t want to hold on to for long.

“Well, ugh, excuse the mess…I wasn’t expecting any visitors this late.” Alex tightens her ponytail, buzzing around the living room to clean up the discarded Ben & Jerry’s pints and empty wine bottles. On her tour around the room trying to hide the evidence of her wallowing, she notices Shawn craning his neck, obviously looking for Erica. He’s expecting her to come stomping out at any second, ready to rip him a new asshole. “Erica left this morning on a business trip. Luckily for you.” Her last sentence seems to be lighthearted, another good sign, but he’s doing his best no to get his hopes up.

“I’d be lying if I said that wasn’t a relief,” A chuckle escapes his lips, which he instantly regrets. This probably isn’t the time to laugh this off considering he most certainly is owed an ass kicking by her best friend. “Can we talk? Would that be okay?”

Her lips part for a second before closing again, clearly searching for the words. Bringing her hands up to rub her arms as if chilled, she finally blows out a breath. “Yeah. We should definitely talk.” She doesn’t move a muscle towards the couch, choosing instead to stand in the center of the room as if to be ready to make an exit. He takes one tentative step towards her but still leaves a respectful distance. The monologues he’d practiced on the drive are suddenly erased from his mind and there’s only one thought echoing in his head. “There’s a lot I want to say but I think I need to listen first. Will you tell me what’s on your mind?” Alex’s face softens at this, not having expected such a mature response. Still, she’s in the very same boat of having plenty to say and not knowing how to organize it.

“What’s on my mind?” She repeats, arms crossing protectively against her chest. “I’m not sure where to start. I’ve been playing this conversation out in my head the last few days and I still don’t know what to say.” A heavy sigh leaves her, her eyes moving to the ceiling to hold back tears. “The thought that seemed to come back in every single version is…why didn’t you choose me, Shawn? I choose you every second of every day. I choose us. But over the last few months, I’ve felt so alone. I’ve felt myself falling down your priority list. And I just wonder, how long until I’m not even your afterthought?” Her voice is quaking as she tries to get the words out. He wants to cut in, to tell her how sorry he is, how far from the truth it is, but he holds back. More than anything, he wants her to feel heard. “It wasn’t even the stupid kiss, you know? I trust you. I know that was a misunderstanding. The fucked up part was that it happened while we were in the same city. On a night you were supposed to have come home to me. On a night that we had planned for so long and I had been clinging to. And you just…you didn’t choose me.” She reaches her hands up to press at the corners of her eyes, still refusing to cry again so soon. It’s enough for the pricking feeling to build behind his own eyes. The guilt welling up in his stomach is almost too much to bear, but he knows he deserves it. Honestly, he needs her to unload, needs to take this weight off of her shoulders, no matter what it means for him.

Clearing his throat, he waits for her to bring her eyes back to his. He doesn’t want to say this without her being able to see how much he truly means it. That these words are coming from the deepest part of him. “You’re right. About all of it. I was so caught up with tour and with all of my own bullshit that I put you on the back burner. I should have seen what it was doing to you, but I ignored it. And that night? God, I’d do literally anything to take it back. All I’ve wanted in these last six days was to spend a single second with you, even just hearing your voice again. I can’t believe I ever let myself take you for granted.” This time, he can’t stop himself from taking another step towards her. “I am so sorry, baby. I know I hurt you and I know I can’t fix it. But I also can’t just give up fighting for us.” Now it’s his voice that cracks. “None of this means a fucking thing without you.”

The tears are falling freely down her face now, but the tension has left her features. She looks so incredibly vulnerable in that moment and his heart has had enough, he has to hold her. Crossing the room, he gently pulls her into his chest, lips instinctively going to her forehead. He’s beyond relieved when she lets herself crumple into his arms, tears staining his t-shirt. “I know you wanted space and I promise, you can take whatever you need. As long as you need. But I need you to know I’m not letting go.” He gently lifts her chin to look at him once more. “I love you more than anything in this world and I’ll do whatever it takes to show you.” She responds with a tiny nod, a deep breath filling her chest as she attempts to compose herself. They lock eyes for a long beat, expressing everything that neither of them can find the words to say. Brushing the tears from her cheeks with his thumbs the way he should have a week before, he’s overwhelmed in that moment by the amount of love he has for this woman. It’s nearly overpowering, but he can’t imagine it being any other way. He can’t imagine living without that feeling.

Once she’s caught her breath, she balls her hands in the back of his shirt, pulling him closer. “I believe you. I shouldn’t have expected you to read my mind from thousands of miles away. We’ve always been so honest with one another and I clammed up. I should have just told you that you were being an asshole.” Alex manages a smile up at him. “Next time I will.” He swears the words “next time” are now his favorite in the English language, specifically falling from her lips.

“I swear I’ll do my best to ensure there is no next time.” Pressing his forehead against hers, he can’t get her close enough. “I mean, we both know I’ll probably still manage to be an asshole from time to time, but only with the best of intentions. Because I’m always going to choose you.” Their lips finally connect, neither of them ever having needed a kiss so badly. It begins gently, but it’s not long before they’re lost in one another.

The shrill sound of the alarm on her phone begging for attention breaks his focus on her lips, the device rumbling around on the coffee table a few feet away. A reminder flashes on the screen and he’s fully prepared to ignore it, knowing that his scatter-brained girlfriend relies on her iPhone to remind her of even the most mundane things – like packing her work lunch or taking her birth control. But for some reason, the emboldened words catch and hold his attention. Check into flight. AIR CANADA Flight 508, ORD -> YYZ.

As if he isn’t already awash in relief, another wave crashes over him. Keeping his hand glued to the small of her back as she reaches down to turn off the alarm, a shaky breath leaves him along with the insecurities still swimming in his head. “You…you were coming home?”

She does her best to bite back the guilty smile growing on her face. Pulling herself back into his arms, she momentarily hides her face in his chest, a pink flush growing across her cheeks. “Of course I was.” Her words are muffled in his shirt, so he tilts her chin upwards. He needs to hear these words from her loud and clear.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” There’s a matching smile tugging at his lips as well. The revelation is filling his chest and he can’t begin to understand the endorphins reaching his brain from a simple iPhone reminder.

“Of course I was coming home to you,” She repeats, meeting his eyes. “It took me five days of refusing to admit it to myself, about ten bottles of wine, and nearly wearing out ‘End of the Road’ on Erica’s Boyz II Men vinyl, but I couldn’t let this be the end. I’m kind of madly in love with you.” He’s fully aware that he’s lucked out, that she could have easily cut and run and started fresh with someone that wouldn’t take her for granted. But despite their challenges, despite their flaws, he believed they were meant for one another. If soulmates in fact existed, he was confident that he’d found his. And he was resolved to never fuck it up again.

The music still softly drifting from the record player brought a sudden thought to his head. Sure, 90s R&B had plenty of soulful breakup songs but the makeup songs were arguably even better. Pulling away from her with reluctance, he made his way to the record player across the room. “Hey you, don’t go,” Alex instantly pouts at the loss of him, trying to catch his shirt as he walks away from her.

“One second.” He shoots her a cheeky grin before studying the album cover to find the track listing he's thinking of. Picking up the arm of the record player, he carefully places the needle on the right groove. The first notes of the song ring out as he walks back towards her, his grin doubling in size. “That’s more like it.”

His hands reach her hips just as she registers the song, her signature giggle sweet music to his ears. “I’ll Make Love to You? Really?” Though she’s rolling her eyes, he can see the fire returning in them. Her hips begin to sway against his, hands reaching to bring his face back down to hers. “You fucking better.”

They both know this won’t be the end of their problems. Making love on your best friend’s couch isn’t an instant fix to any challenge. But it’s certainly a start. And right now, that’s all they need.

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes fic

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chaletnz · 5 years

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Iceland: Golden Circle tour part 1

My first day in Iceland was so exciting and full of wonder that I have to split my blog post into two parts because there is so much to say! I woke up naturally at about 6.30am because I was so eager to get out and explore this rugged terrain. My roommates (Americans who had been abandoned in Iceland after WowAir decided to cease operations suddenly) had left the curtains open overnight so when I woke it was already bright and I looked out to see a landscape coated in thick white snow. I leapt out of bed, quickly showered, made my sandwich for lunch, had breakfast and then dressed in my warmest clothes to walk into the central city of Reykjavík for a few hours before my tour departed at 11am. It was pleasant conditions for walking; cool crisp air without wind, crunchy snow and quiet. It began to snow heavily about halfway to the Hallgrimskirkja and I was covered in white powder within minutes. At 8am I arrived on the doorstep of Reykjavík Roasters where I enjoyed a very fine flat white to warm myself up and a blueberry muffin just because they looked so delicious. I took some snow photos and then headed back to the hostel to get ready for my tour. One unexpected phone call later from my tour operator and I was running downstairs onto the bus bag, boots, and jacket in hand for my 10am tour (that had now been delayed 20 minutes waiting for me after they'd changed the departure time but I hadn't recieved the email). Luckily the guide Ziggy wasn't too worried and once I'd slid into a seat in the second to front row (prime spot!) our driver Santa put his foot down and we were off towards our first stop Þingvellir National Park. It was a complete white out with nothing visible under the blanket of snow except for some road markers and the odd small house. We also passed some cars that had become stuck in the snow on the side of the road, and a small tour bus that had slid off the road and almost tipped over - this all reassured me that I was wise to go the "tour bus" rather than the "rent a car and drive" route! On the drive out we listened to our audio guides which gave us an insight to the history of Iceland. It was settled in 870 and was one of the poorest and undeveloped countries in Europe until American and British armies arrived and built an airport which created a lot of jobs for locals. The population is now standing at about 330,000 in a country larger in size than Ireland. They have only one native land animal, the arctic fox, and all other animals have arrived from other nations. It is often said in Iceland that sheep are the most dangerous animal in the country, and Ziggy added that tourists driving rental cars is the second most dangerous. Our first whistle stop was at þingvellir National Park which is the site of the largest lake in Iceland. The park sits on a "rift valley" where tectonic plates have ripped the Earth's crust apart. We stood on the edge of the American plate to look out over the valley and saw the lake where divers can dive between the tectonic plates in crystal clear glacial waters. As we walked a small pathway around the cliff Ziggy told me about the climates experienced in Iceland. In the height of summer temperatures sit around 10-15 degrees, although 18-20 is not uncommon. The summers have been gradually getting colder and wetter much to the disappointment of Icelanders. Climate change in Iceland is heavily effected by volcanic activity and Ziggy recalled the largest eruption in 1783 when a 30km rupture opened up and spouted lava 500m high which resulted in the deaths of 60% of the population at the time. Everyone boarded the bus with the exception of two Italian guys called Paolo and Francesco who had gone missing. Ziggy got on the radio to his superiors and they said he had to go and track them down so we were left waiting about 30 minutes after our designated departure time to recover the missing Italians who stepped aboard and said into the microphone "sorry for the late."

#iceland #þingvellir

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minigenos · 5 years

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Holidays, Part 2

Part 1 ― Part 2 (you are here)

Genos plans a romantic holiday evening for Saitama. However, as this is the One Punch Man universe, things quickly start going to shit when monsters attack.

The atmosphere at the banquet hall was relaxed and friendly, though one wouldn't think so based on Genos's expression. While Saitama was nearly halfway done with his food, the cyborg hadn't touched anything in his bowl. He was just... staring at it.

Oh god, not again, the hero thought to himself as he looked over to his date. He's over-anaylizing something again, isn't he?

Saitama knew the only way to snap Genos out of his current mood was to get him to say what was on his mind, much to the older hero's chagrin.

He really hoped it wouldn't be another ten-minute long essay this time.

“Uh, Genos? You haven't touched any of your food yet. It's going to get cold...”

“Oh?” Now that Genos had been brought back to reality, the only thing left to do was brace for whatever he had to say next.

“Sorry sensei, I was just thinking. I should have been able to detect those two monsters you defeated well before we actually saw them. Now I'm beginning to wonder if my sensors are faulty or monsters have developed some way of hiding from them...”

Saitama looked over at Genos. Or, more specifically, the crack in his head from when the hero mistakenly hit it like an alarm clock.

Hmmm...

That might be the reason why his system wasn't working properly.

But it was Christmas, and Genos shouldn't have to worry about something like that. If anything came along Saitama could handle it. Now all he had to do was convince the cyborg of such and get him to drop the subject.

“Ah, yeah, well don't worry about it. They're gone and if anything else shows up I can deal with it, no problem.” Saitama managed a smile to make what he said more genuine, which Genos seemed to begrudgingly buy.

“You're right,” he finally admitted. “I'll just have to make sure Doctor Kuseno checks it the next time I go in for repairs.”

For a brief moment Saitama was exceedingly glad the doctor didn't have any means to contact him – he probably would have gotten an earful from him over damaging Genos in such a stupid way.

With Genos's mind put at ease for now the pair could finally relax and enjoy their dinner in peace.

Except not really.

With Genos's sensors out of commission, everyone was taken completely by surprise when part of the roof and wall caved in and the shadows of a dozen monsters materialized in the swirling dust and snow.

Every single one of the workers fucked right out of the room at the very first sight of the monsters. They definitely weren't getting paid enough to deal with that kind of crap.

“Hm, hm! Well, isn't this a surprise,” one of the monsters said. “Someone who didn't run away for once. Are you too scared to move, or too stupid to know when to get out of the way?”

At the direction of the monster closest to the heroes, the entire group began to move forward well before the dust and snow had settled.

“Well, since you gave us such a warm welcome,” the same monster as before said, “please allow us to introduce ourselves.” Standing before them was what seemed to be an animated tree with two sets of stubby, gnarled legs and one pair of over-sized arms that ended hands with varying numbers of sharp claws. On what could be considered its torso was a giant number “1” while where its head would have most likely been was a circular robotic structure that held a bird within it. One of the bird's eyes and part of its head were robotic while a monocle was somehow held up against its other eye.

With a couple egotistical chuckles the bird spoke again. “We are The-”

“Hey look Genos, it's a cute little pigeon!” Saitama said, completely cutting off the monster. “Do you think they have any bread in the kitchen we can feed it? I wanna go check.”

“Sensei...” the cyborg whispered in what could be considered a pleading voice for him. He tried to grab onto his mentor to stop him, but the man was already out of his normal reach.

“Would you stop that!” the bird monster shouted, causing Saitama to freeze in his tracks. The tree it was positioned on top of lurched a huge step forward in response.

“Oh hey it talks!” Saitama smiled over his delayed realization. “Neat, a talking pigeon”

“I'M NOT A PIDGEON YOU IMBECILE!”

Now that Saitama's focus was solely on their newest adversaries, the hero finally took the time to look over each monster in the group. Thankfully for him, all but one were number-coded for easy identification.

1 – The talking pigeon (“I'M A PARTRIDGE YOU TWAT!!”) and animated tree.

2 – A bipedal, mostly white, turtle with unusually large claws. Saitama could see bursts of pink flames erupt from the limbs every so often. Its number was sewn onto a silver arm band.

3 – One of the most human-looking of the group, this monster had long, flowing silver hair and held a long cigarette marked with a “3” in a gloved hand. Her white boa provided a sharp contrast to her floor-length black dress.

“Oh hey, you look really nice!” Saitama couldn't help but compliment the monster.

“Oh? Tu es un charmeur,” she replied in a somehow italicized French accent.

4 – While the head of this monster was identical to that of a common sparrow, just enlarged to fit the rest of the body, everything from the neck down looked almost boringly human, even down to the black suit and polished shoes. A small “4” was monogrammed onto its pocket square. It might seem rather uninteresting, but this was definitely a high-class monster.

5 – A solid gold-colored, cartoonishly haute humanoid. He probably wasn't real gold; maybe 10k at max. He seemed to use psychic powers to continuously levitate and spin five circular gold blades at speeds fast enough to rip through flesh. Instead of telling time, his watch showed only the number 5 – honestly, there were some days where Saitama could get behind that sentiment.

6 – The only un-numbered one of the bunch, it was literally just a giant goose. Likely it had ripped its marker off.

7 – This monster seemed to have the head and upper body of a black-colored swan wearing a long, iridescent black feathered dress that trailed on the floor. Saitama couldn't tell if it had normal human legs, really long bird legs, or if it was just two swans standing on top of each other. He figured it would be too rude to ask. A black corset with a silver “7” jutting from it indicated where her place was in the group.

8 – This monster seemed... suspiciously human. A burly woman in a red and white maid's outfit, combat boots, and spiked punching gloves marked with one bright red “8” on each one seemed like something one would see at a cosplay convention than with a group of blatantly obvious monsters.

At this point Saitama wished there were fewer monsters because the descriptions of each individual one was becoming extremely tedious.

9 – Saitama had to admit, this monster looked surprisingly interesting. It was a ballet dancer made up of possibly millions of shards of crystal that seemed able to shift and reform its body at will, though most of the time was contorting its body in the approximate shape of the number 9.

10 – This monster seemed like it would again be more at home at a cosplay convention, or even a Renaissance festival. They looked like a ridiculously over-sized elf, aside from the mask over its eyes which turned them into a pair of glowing white dots. A belt held together with a “10” buckle stored numerous smithing tools and picks while the monster held a heavy mallet in each hand.

11 – A massive, completely mechanized hedgehog with a thick black sack for a belly and musical pipes as opposed to quills. Its number was engraved into large gears placed at the monster's hips.

12 – The final monster of the batch, and one of the few that looked like a monster to boot; a large demon drum with rows of spikes along both sides of its body. Based on how easily rubble was crushed into dust under its feet, it was safe to say this monster was notably heavier than it looked.

With each monster finally registered, Saitama had only one thing to say.

“You guys seriously take orders from a pigeon?”

“OH MY FUCKING GOD I AM NOT A PIDGEON!” the bird shouted as his wings slapped down onto the rim of his mechanical nest.

“He's an angry pigeon,” Saitama teased, which resulted in even Genos rolling his eyes. “Oh! Wait, I get it now! It's like the song! How's it go?”

“W...what?” the bird muttered in a perplexed voice.

“FIVE GOLDEN HENS!!” the hero bellowed at the top of his lungs, startling both Genos and the group of monsters. His student was the quickest to recover and pointed out his mentor's mistake.

“No, no, sensei. It's five golden rings. The hens are day three.”

“Are you sure? I thought they were golden hens...”

The pair spent an obscenely long time debating among themselves what item corresponded to each day and wildly failing, while the group of monsters that were very blatantly based off of the song stood. Directly. Across. From. Them.

“What shall we do?” the monster marked with a 3 asked.

“This is getting ridiculous,” the feathered ringleader of the group replied. Together they were no less than a Dragon-level threat, possibly bordering on that of God.

And they were being ignored by an over-literal cyborg and hoodie-wearing humanoid egg.

“Just kill them already!” the bird ordered with a wave of his wing, which triggered the monsters into launching forward – fangs, claws, fire, or tools bared – and bear down on the two heroes.

The sudden commotion was finally enough to break the pair from their discussion. Genos dropped down while his robotic body flared to life, while Saitama merely just turned his head.

“Don't you know it's rude,” he started while balling his left hand into a fist, “to interrupt other people's conversations?” He swung his fist in an arch, which made direct contact with the “1” on the sentient tree, causing the monster to disintegrate instantly. The shock wave from Saitama's punch completely destroyed the other monsters, causing their bodies to be torn to shreds and splatter in a wide arch around where they died. Only two monsters managed to survive the carnage by getting blown back and managing to avoid a fatal amount of damage.

“Get up Golde. We need to get out of here.”

“W... what happened?” The gold-colored monster rose shakily to an approximate sitting position and looked at the other monster. Hen looked pretty roughed up, to say the least. Her dress and boa had seen better days, and the cigarette she had gotten from Par as a gift for joining the Knights was long gone.

The pair had been knocked notably far away from their original spot and landed in a poorly-lit area far enough away from the heroes to escape their notice. A true lucky blessing for them if ever there was one.

“I don't know how, but we survived.” The made a long, pained sigh. “I think we're the only ones who did.”

“But- but you've got to be joking! We're notably weaker than some of those monsters! Heck, we're not even full-fledged monsters like they are-”

“Were.”

“...were... but you're saying we are the only ones that made it out alive?”

“Oui.”

Golde let out a dejected sigh and held his head in his hands. His partner stretched out her hand as a silent reminder for him that they needed to get up and get the heck out of there before reinforcements arrived. Or, even worse, those two heroes found them.

“How the hell did it end up like this,” he muttered to nobody in particular.

Neither Golde or Hen, his female co-patriot, were full-fledged monsters just yet, but were welcomed into the Demon Knights because they fit the rolls so well. Originally they had planned to just wait it out under the other monsters' protection until they had completely turned themselves, but now those plans had been completely shot to hell.

“Well, what now?” Golde asked as he wrapped one of Hen's arms around his shoulders.

“I have some items left in storage,” Hen replied. “If my contacts are still around I might be able to sell them and make enough money to open a store somewhere.”

“Hm? What kind of store?”

“I was thinking... a café or bistro maybe? I always enjoyed visiting those places as a child...”

“Ooh! Can I help?” Golde seemed to perk up at Hen's words, causing the woman to get knocked off-balance. “I've always had an eye for interior design and art.”

“Oui. But first,” Hen said as she readjusted herself, “let's focus on getting out of here.”

Golde had no choice but to nod dejectedly at the suggestion. Heartbroken over their loss but determined to make it out of the shitty situation they now found themselves in, the pair walked off into the night to piece their lives back together again.

On a positive note, the Demon Knights had been swiftly vanquished by Saitama. On a less positive note, about a third of the banquet hall had been demolished. That was a small problem for the heroes. The hall's owner probably wasn't going to be very thrilled over what they did.

As Genos called the owner and tried his best to explain what had happened over the other person's loud swearing, Saitama checked out what was salvageable from the food tables. It seemed only the fruit, vegetable, and one try of miniature cakes were, as those three were the only ones to still have a covering on them. Still, it was better than nothing. The hero picked up the three trays and walked over to a mildly frustrated Genos.

“I called the owner and they will be here shortly,” the cyborg said as he pulled out a Hero Association contact card and sandwiched it between a piece of rubble and one of the remaining tables. “I'll leave a card just in case he couldn't hear me over his own swearing.”

“Good thinking Genos,” Saitama commended his partner. He would have given a thumbs up, but his hands were full from the salvaged food. Genos turned around to thank his mentor for the compliment, but froze when he saw what the hero was carrying around.

“Sensei... why...”

“What? I don't wanna waste food if it's still good. This stuff's still covered so it's fine.”

“Yes, but...” Genos quickly realized any argument against taking the food would be futile, and let out a defeated sigh. “Fine,” he acquiesced, “but what now?”

“Hey, are you two OK?!” a familiar voice shouted from outside the newly “renovated” hall. The pair turned to find Mumen Rider in full uniform with a bag of groceries hanging from a handle bar.

“Oh, hey Mumen,” Saitama said before walking over to the other hero.

“I heard a loud explosion while I was out getting groceries, so I checked out and came as fast as I could. Looks like you took care of... everything... though,” he finished while looking around at the destruction.

“Yeah things got kinda messy,” Saitama nodded. “But, uh, we still managed to salvage some of the food, so that's good.” He hoisted up the trays in his arms to show off to the hero.

“Hmmm,” Mumen mused for a few seconds. “Hey, I have an idea!” He held up his pointer finger to emphasize the fact that he had an idea. “Why don't we stop off at the store so I can pick up a little more meat, and we can use it and those vegetables in a hot pot? I haven't had a chance to make that in ages!”

Saitama was on board almost immediately.

“Heck yeah!” the hero beamed. “That sounds great! You wanna do it, Genos?”

Even though the cyborg wasn't particularly thrilled about how the night had gone, he couldn't overlook the fact that Saitama seemed exceptionally happy over the suggestion.

“That's great,” Mumen smiled. “The store's right on the way home, so it won't take long at all to go in there, get what we need, and head back out.”

The group of three left the hall's parking lot with some light-hearted discussion, and completely ignored the owner of the establishment, who had just shown up. It was probably for the best that nobody was around him in the end; the string of expletives that spewed forth from his mouth could have made even Tiger-level monsters shrink back in horror.

“Alright, took a minute to put together, but here we are!” Mumen smiled as he set the hot pot assembly on the middle of the table. Finely-sliced pieces of beef along with vegetables had been carefully arranged in the bowl which was just now starting to heat up. It would be a little while before everything was ready, but even now the aroma was enough to make Saitama's mouth water.

“Hey, thanks for this,” Saitama said as they continued to sit around and wait for their food to be ready.

“It's no problem! Honestly, I was surprised to see you two out tonight of all nights.”

“Yeah,” the hero replied. “Funny enough, I almost overslept and forgot about it! Ha ha!”

Saitama's last sentence was enough to cause Genos to turn around and give him a mildly stone-faced look. The crack on his head was still very much visible, thank you very much.

In the end Genos couldn't deny that laughing off the incident was probably the best idea, despite the fact that it 100% was Saitama's fault in the first place. Tonight had turned out alright in light of their earlier setbacks, and nobody wanted to ruin it now. Genos merely waited silently for the hot pot to finish cooking as the other two heroes talked about everything and nothing at all.

“Is it done yet?” Saitama eventually asked, prompting Genos to pick up a pair of chopsticks and poke at the food.

“Seems so,” the cyborg replied.

“Aw sweet!” Saitama eagerly picked up his bowl and chopsticks, then pulled out a little bit of every item from the hot pot that was within his reach. Mumen and Genos quickly followed suit.

The pair didn't leave until nearly midnight, and to Mumen's delight cleaned out the hot pot bowl and all the dishes they had used. As the lone hero turned off the lights to his kitchen and living room, he couldn't help but let out a contented sigh. He had only planned on having dinner on his own tonight, but sheer chance had led to Saitama and Genos joining him for the evening. It wasn't anything fancy or extravagant, but he had a great time and hoped the two other heroes did as well.

Saitama woke up with a start the next morning.

They had left all of their food at Mumen's house!

#one punch man #opm #saigenos #genosai #mumen rider #minisfic #holiday #christmas

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commonwealthbankofmaccready · 6 years

Note

“Just go. I’d feel better.” - Could you do that with a good ol' Deacon/Nora pairing? I hope I sent this request right! Whatever kind of story-line you want as long as there's A N G S T

This labeled as Molotov. Also on my ao3 here :) My masterlist archive of bullshit i write can be found linked at the top of the blog or here.

From the angst starters meme list :) –

She wished she’d never agreed to come here.

The National Guard training yard was something she’d been trying to avoid. She didn’t like ferals, didn’t like the way they could lay as still as a corpse until you got just close enough to be too late. And what with her lightness of foot, and improvement of masking her presence thanks to Deacon’s rather hands-on approach to teaching, those damn walking corpses always popped out when she was just within arm’s length.

She hated ferals. It was the one thing in the commonwealth she just hadn’t managed to come to terms with. Like walking among the distorted remnants of her past.

The settlers at County Crossing wanted the facilities cleared before they’d ally with the Minutemen, and Deb at Bunker Hill was sick of attacks on caravans passing through the trading center. It was putting a dent in their local economy, and slowing down trade.

“Bunker Hill is important to Railroad operations,” Des had said. “Clear it out.”

“It’ll be a cakewalk,” Deacon had said, clapping Nora on the shoulder. “What’s a few ferals compared to a full-frontal assault? Ha ha, get it?”

Her stomach did sick flops recalling the way Deacon had suggested a balls-out approach just to bring a smile to her face. Des had rolled her eyes, but let them do the job however they saw fit. And Deacon was all jokes and smiles to distract from the anxiety of the job the entire way there. It had made her laugh and smile and not dread the job at hand as much as she had been.

“It’ll be the perfect tactic. When’s the last time a feral even saw that much glamourous skin, huh?” It was all about disturbing the enemy and all, make them so envious of his secret tattoo that they’d fumble all over themselves.

“You don’t have any secret tattoos, Deacon,” Nora had quietly laughed as they’d cleared the ground floor. “I’d know.”

“Maybe you should look closer, hm? Maybe there’ll be a surprise tonight.”

“It doesn’t count if you draw something on yourself when we’re done here,” she’d said with a grin as they’d started on the second floor. “But I won’t not be impressed if you get creative about locations.”

He’d waggled his brows at her and said there was a marker in his bag for just such an occasion.

And that was when it all went to hell.

She didn’t know how there had been so many in one place, or why, but ‘swarm’ was rather appropriate for the ferals that fumbled after them. Her brain decided at that moment to pick out the finer details of their situation: the bloodied sleeping bag in the corner of the room, the withered flesh that reached out for them even as they made retreat, and an insistent, diabolical little voice in her head telling her she was next.

Nora dropped a few of them before her panic set in, rotting and charred ghouls among the pack in such numbers that terror overtook her.

She threw the grenade without even thinking, pulling the pin before Deacon could warn against it as he dropped another feral with his gun.

The explosion shook the entire building, the ferals’ flesh acting as a meat shield as Nora and Deacon had run for cover and the shrapnel had taken them out. Dust was everywhere. Loud, resonating cracks and creaks as part of the dilapidated floor gave away, and the gurgling noises of dying ghouls joined the general chaos.

It took a few disoriented moments for Nora to peel herself off the floor where she’d fallen, pushing a desk that had halfway pinned her off, debris-scraped cheeks and palms stinging as her heart tried to escape her chest.

Deacon. Where was Deacon?

The desk that had fallen on her had also saved her from being speared by an old beam from above, the ceiling still creaking in threat of coming down on their heads. The ferals were all dead, or so buried and pinned they might as well have been. It took her a minute to find Deacon, and when she did she felt her heart seize and immediately went into action.

He was pinned beneath a fallen section of the roof. His face was covered in dust, as was the rest of him, and he was breathing hard and fast; adrenaline rushing through his system. It was the only reason he wasn’t screaming or passed out yet.

“….N-Nora…” She was already pulling larger pieces off him, but he knew it was for nothing. What he could feel– and what he couldn’t- said it all. “My-my-my legs are crushed,” he managed to get out quickly through clenched teeth, a cry of pain escaping from deep in his throat.

Blood and tears were dripping down his suffering face, sunglasses broken that she tossed aside, and he screamed when she tried to lift the fallen upper floor off him. It didn’t move; a minute change in pressure the only difference, and she let out an anguished noise as she frantically tried to save him.

She dug through her pack to find the three stimpacks there. It had to do something. “I’m getting you out of here, Deacon. I’m getting you out.”

“No–”

“Yes I am! I’m getting you out okay so just hold on!” She injected him with one, thinking it should do something– buy her time at least- but he screamed as she pushed down the plunger. “I know, I know honey I know,” she said to the pain coursing through him. His half-sobbed, half-coughed sounds of suffering were ripping through her, hands shaking as she realized this might be it. “I’m getting you out.”

She looked around her as if some magical solution would appear. There was nothing but still-settling dust and creaks of unsteady construction; the whole place threatening to go at any minute.

“Nora-” Deacon placed a hand on the one she had gripping a piece of the floor covering him. His own hand shook with effort and tremors of pain as he made cries at his own movement. He was losing blood. He couldn’t feel it, but the ebbing strength, the fact he couldn’t feel anything below his torso, he knew he was dying. This was something he wasn’t going to bounce back from.

“No, no Deacon, no,” Nora practically growled at him, her own face wet with defiant tears as she looked at him. “I am getting you out!”

“J-Just go. I’d feel better.” The words were hard to put together, the adrenaline starting to ebb, and the burning fire and pressure of his injuries was starting to catch up with him. He was pretty sure his back was broken, if not the rest of him. Funny, that his mind would fall back to taking stock of injuries to try and deal with the pain. Not that it would do him any good. He knew he wasn’t getting out of here alive; the pain was already trying to drag him under before his injuries did the rest.

She didn’t know what to do. She didn’t know what the hell to do. There was half a slab of concrete that weighed at least as much as a truck on him, and even if she got him out, she didn’t think all the stimpacks in the commonwealth could save him. She’d be doing it for her, she realized. Because he wasn’t walking out of here.

It didn’t mean she was going to stop trying though.

“I’m going to get you out, and get you to a doctor, and you’ll be okay. Deacon stay awake!” she yelled at him as his eyes glazed over even more.

“Live… live, Barb,” he told her, teeth chattering, mind confused and knowing that wasn’t right, but not sure what the correct answer was as his entire lower half felt like it was burning him alive, and it was getting harder to draw breath as his heartbeat nearly drowned out his hearing.

Nora kissed his forehead, squeezing his hand as he muttered things that didn’t make sense. Her heart wanted to explode, and she was frantic. No, she wasn’t going to lose him. Not like she’d lost Nate. She wasn’t going to let another man she loved die.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, sorry,” she said quickly as she injected another stimpack into him, followed by the last. He howled in pain when she did it, the noise hollow, cracking as his vocal cords strained and he went into a painful cough as she cried and tried to soothe him.

Time. She needed time. Just a little time, whatever the stimpacks might give her.

She could get the settlers at County Crossing. They were right there. They could help her lift the debris off him, pull him out.

And then what?

“Deacon. Dee. I’m getting help, okay? I’m getting help, you just hang on. Hang on sweetheart,” she told him shakily as she kissed his forehead and got to her feet. “I love you, I love you so much, just hang on.”

If he registered her words at all, he didn’t show it. He was still breathing, murmuring something garbled as fear further took her. Her brain supplied that his was probably suffering trauma; lack of oxygen, blood, hell, she had no idea the extent of his injuries except that he was dying.

His vision was comprised of shadow and light, and something in him spiked with fear as a shadow passed right before everything went still. If his brain was working right, he might’ve realized it was fear that had taken him, realizing Nora had gone just like he’d asked, and he was going to die there alone.

But his brain wasn’t working right, and all he knew was pain before the darkness, and then there was nothing.

–

There was old, weathered and rusted steel above, shadows and a dirty blue sheet, and old nails that were just begging to give someone tetanus. A tiny space with still air. Plain. Nondescript.

Hell looks just like the commonwealth, Deacon thought to himself.

“Rude.”

Deacon turned his head, wincing slightly, and frowned in confusion. Had he said that aloud?

Nora was there, and she was holding his hand, unshed tears in her eyes and a warm smile on her face. He blinked and inhaled once deeply, causing a minor coughing fit. Instantly she was helping him to sit up, voice easy, comforting, and he was confused to hell as to how he was still alive. She didn’t move from where she’d gotten her arm around him, pressing a kiss to his temple, and he was further thunderstruck.

“Hey there stranger.”

“Nor?” He squeezed the other hand she still held his own with, a little shocked when she squeezed back; that she was actually there. “Is this real?”

“More real than the tattoo on your ass,” she snarked with a laugh, the tears in her eyes finally falling. She let go of his hand to wipe them away before retaking it, still smiling with relief. “How do you feel?”

“Confused…” She made a slightly amused noise, but her smile was still watery as she watched him. He was missing some major time. “What exactly.… I’m not dead.”

“No, you’re not,” she said, voice choking a little at the end. She brought his hand to her lips to kiss it. He gave her a tug, kissing her face before he gingerly wrapped his arms around her. She easily hugged him, but was careful, still perched on the stool by the bed he was in.

He’d never felt so dumb in his life, but also never quite as confused. This was… He’d had close calls, but this had to be something else. He should be dead. No one should have survived being crushed the way he had. Had she taken his brain, plugged it into the Memory Den? Were they in a simulation right now? “How… How are we talking right now?” Her face took on a look of concern, but he brought her back to his chest, hugging her tight. It felt real.

“I got you out.”

He didn’t mean to snort at the quiet-spoken statement, but he couldn’t help it. “Sorry babe, just, you’re getting good at the lies, but there’s no way that’s true.”

She pulled back to look him in the eyes. She’d still need to scrounge up a new pair of sunglasses for him. He wouldn’t be happy to go without for too long. “I got you out.” She placed a hand at his neck, feeling his heart beating strongly in his pulse. Her thumb caressed his jawline, and she just held him there a moment appreciating the life in him. “The settlers here helped, but–”

Deacon shook his head. “No way. Is this a simulation? I know the Memory Loungers are pretty realistic. I died back there right? Ow!”

She’d pinched the delicate skin at his shoulder and neck, and he pulled back to give her a wounded look. “Can’t feel pain inside a memory, asshole,” she stated plainly, no venom to her words. She pressed a kiss to his cheek in apology, and hugged him again. “I remembered a suit of power armor close by that I’ve been meaning to bring back. I lifted the floor and they… they pulled you out.”

The memory was still far too visceral, the image of how destroyed his body had been was something she was never going to forget. The inhuman sound he’d made when Ronnie and Jo had pulled him free… Her skin broke out in goosebumps.

“Hey,” he said softly, the tremor gone through her and the way her voice hitched telling him enough to know she sure as hell wasn’t lying.

“Jack Cabot.”

“Jack Cabot?” he repeated in question. He knew the guy. A little weird. Family was still living like the bombs had never fallen, as far as he’d gathered. What he’d had to do his rescue, he couldn’t parse.

“I ran an op with MacCready before running into you…” She smiled at the thought, meeting his eyes again, stroking his skin. “That’s… I’ll tell you all about it later, but, I forgot– He’s a scientist of sorts, weird shit, magic, I don’t know how else to describe it, but he had this serum….”

She hugged him again, close, and he could feel her heart beat fast. He held her against him, inhaled her scent, and pet her. If this was a lie, it was a hell of a good one.

“Me and Mac, we kept it– He can make more, don’t worry, but it’s– it’s like some batshit crazy immortality potion or something, I don’t know. Kept the whole family young. They’re- they’re older than I am….”

Deacon made a little unsettled noise, pressing a kiss to her temple. “So you got this magic potion and brought me back, huh?”

“I didn’t know it would work, but I can’t believe I forgot I had it. I’m so glad I had it.” She hugged him tight with renewed relief. The mess his body had been… and the quickness that the serum had done its work. She was still shocked he was alive and awake and talking.

“…how bad was it?” She shook her head quickly, a sickened look coming over her face, and suddenly he didn’t want to know anymore. She’d probably be having nightmares for a long time coming. He wiggled his toes, stretching his legs slightly. Seemed like everything was in working order. Nothing hurt, at least. He was a little sore. “How, uh… heh… just how long was I out of commission?”

“We’ve been here nearly a week. County Crossing,” she elaborated at the questioning look on his face. She looked away again, her eyes filling with more tears. “I thought… I thought… Deacon….”

“Hey, I’m all good. Check it out babe, my legs work and everything,” he said as he wiggled about in bed. She was crying again, hands kneading at him, and he brought her back in close. “Come on now, you’re gonna start making me cry. And that is an ugly thing, sweetheart, let me tell ya. I got a splinter once and Glory had to take it out and, well, there’s a reason she won’t triage me anymore.”

Nora was laughing quietly through her tears, hugging him tight and kissing his skin. God she was so relieved he was alright. “I thought I lost you. I love you so much, Deacon. I’m so glad you’re–” She had to swallow over the lump in her throat. She was going to choke over the tears she still had left to spill.

“Hey, what’d we say about tears, huh?” He pressed another kiss to the top of her head. “Love you, too, hot stuff. Goddamn but I’m luckier than shit, huh?”

“If I hadn’t thrown that damn grenade in the first–”

“Stop, Nora.” He held her tight, kissed her lips with his own, pet her and kept her close. This was something else they’d need to get past. “I’m okay, you’re okay, and you know what? We won’t take anymore jobs that deal with ferals, okay? Not if we can help it. There’s gotta be some perks to being a General, right?” She snorted and kissed his lips again. He hummed into the kiss. “Hey, how’d you like to take everything for a test run later on? Make sure everything is still working below the belt? How about it, hot stuff?”

She batted his hand away from her as he waggled his brows, crying and laughing at the same time, and remained close to him for the rest of the day until he felt up to a little spritely walk.

Later that night, in the semi-privacy of the sheet-covered room, Nora was laughing full-fledged at the hearts, badly-drawn mutfruit flowers, and her name scribbled all over Deacon’s body. Where he’d found the time or even the marker to do it, she didn’t know, but he gave her that damn charming grin of his and encouraged her to find all fifty-seven designs he’d taken the liberty of inking onto himself.

She took a little artistic license in the counting and made her inventory-count with kisses. He paid back the favor with leaving a few marks of his own that he counted with his own lips the following morning.

…She’d probably kick his ass when she found he’d written his name across her right buttcheek while she slept, but for now, he’d enjoy the feel of her in his arms, and the reassurance that he was still here for her. And if she clung a little close or didn’t stray too far from his side in the following days, well, he’d just give her a kiss and a little light teasing until the brightness of her smile chased away any lingering thoughts of gloom.

Having his name pop up somewhere on her body after they’d gone to bed usually did the trick.

#deacon x sole survivor #deacon fallout 4 #deacon/sole survivor #fanfic #my fic #LOL this was fun thanks for the request :)#my requests are still open folks. either angst starters or otherwise (: please leave a comment if i fill something you request yeah? :D #let's get the pain train rollin hahha #you like hurt/comfort? oh ill give ya hurt/comfort #poisonjack answers

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selfignitingimagines · 6 years

Text

Feel You In the Night

A/N- Part three! Sorry for the wait guys! Summer classes suck!

“You okay, buddy?”

“Do I look okay?”

Scott frowned as he stood in the doorway of Stiles’ room. He had come over to take his friend’s mind off things, but as he walked down the hall and peered inside his room, he wasn’t sure it was possible.

Stiles was sitting on his bed, staring intently at his crime board. With all the other supernatural cases Stiles had thrown himself into, he had covered the thing in photos, printouts, and clues. Theories normally ran unevenly across the board, inked in coded colors. Pages would be ripped out of mythology books and pinned to the board with magnets. Every spare surface would get covered in something, whether it be hard evidence or the ghost of a connection.

This time, the board was nearly empty. Several words and questions were written haphazardly in black marker, all followed by question marks. Sacrifice? Why a banshee? Why her?

Aside from the words, there was only one other thing on the board. As Scott came across the room to sit down next to his friend, he saw it was a picture of you. More specifically, a picture of you and Stiles.

He must have printed it out recently, because it had only been taken a few days ago, before you and Lydia had left for your trip. You had all gone out for milkshakes, celebrating the start of a supernatural free spring break.

In the picture, you were smiling with your eyes closed in fake disgust as Stiles kissed your cheek. His mouth was covered in milkshake at the time, and even though you pretended you didn’t like it, you didn’t really mind. Later, in a moment that Lydia’s camera didn’t capture, you would swipe the rest away from his mouth with your thumb.

“I was saving it for later,” he had complained, causing you to shake your head and smile.

He was blinking away tears as he stared at that picture now, knowing you were probably scared out of your mind wherever you were. He wondered if you were thinking about him, hoping he would figure this thing out in time to save you. But he couldn’t do it alone, and as Scott placed a hand on his shoulder, he sighed.

“I’m sorry I snapped at you,” he told him. “And I’m sorry I snapped at Lydia. I just want to be able to figure it out, you know? I want to be able to find her.”

Scott shook his head. “You don’t have to. Not by yourself, at least. We’re all behind you dude. We’re not letting her slip away.”

Stiles nodded. “My dad isn’t going to look for the missing body.”

Scott blinked. “What? Didn’t you tell him what Kira said?”

“Yeah, I did. But he said they needed to focus on actual leads instead of some half-baked theory. He’s got the whole station looking into license plates they caught on toll booth cameras. Just trucks that matched Lydia’s description in the time that she was taken.”

“So it’s up to us.” It wasn’t a question, just a statement that carried no surprise with it.

“As usual.”

Scott nodded at him. “We’ll go tomorrow.”

Stiles swallowed. “Tomorrow is already the third day.”

“I know dude, but nothing is open this late. What else can we do?”

“Sit and wait I guess. Sleep, maybe, but I doubt that’ll happen.”

“I’ll stay with you.”

“You should go home. One of us should sleep.”

“I’m not leaving you here, dude. We can sit here and talk. Tell me something about Y/n.”

He frowned. “We grew up together. You know everything about her that I do.”

“Okay, then tell me when you first knew you were in love with her.”

“Scott, I tell you that story all the time.”

“Yeah, but you haven’t told it in a while. I’m not sick of it anymore.”

Stiles rolled his eyes, but he let out a soft breath and fell back onto his bed. “It was that night Matt trapped us all in the police station. He paralyzed me and Derek on the floor, but then Y/n came up from behind him and smacked him in the head with my bat. She looked so pissed, and she wasn’t even afraid when he got back up. She just told him that he was a bitch. ‘Course he got Jackson to paralyze her after that, but when she fell over, and she looked right into my eyes…”

He kept talking as Scott laid down next to him, and even though he would cry, and Scott would cry, talking about you made him happy. It gave him hope that he would see you again, and eventually, it made him content enough to drift off into a restless sleep, still thinking of you.

You woke to the sound of something clattering on the floor and shot up from the dirty basement floor. As you scrambled back, you saw that Dave was standing over you, and that he had set something down in front of you. You glanced down at it skeptically, and saw that it was mug, filled with a brown-orange liquid.

“Chamomile tea,” he stated. “It was Emily’s favorite.”

“Emily,” you repeated in a hoarse whisper, glancing over at the covered up body on the bed. “Her.”

“I needed her body to bring her back,” he told you. “I know it might not be the most comfortable place for you, but this is how it has to be.”

You swallowed, trying not to think too hard about the stench filling the basement. You looked back down at the mug on the chilly floor and saw steam curling up into the air. The tea looked warm, piping hot actually, and in that moment, a plan formed in your mind.

Sure, it was desperate, but it was all you had, and you thought that if Stiles had been there, he would have been proud.

“Tell me about her,” you said suddenly, sitting up straighter. “Why do you need to bring her back so badly?”

“You’re so young,” he said softly, staring at the dirty floor. “You don’t have kids, so you don’t know what it’s like. But watching Emily be born, watching her grow into this bright, intelligent person, and knowing I had a hand in doing that…”

He took a deep breath, and looked up at you. “Your child becomes a piece of you. And when they die, they take some of you with them. After Emily’s mom and I divorced, she was all I had. And then she left me too. I thought it couldn’t be worse. My own daughter didn’t want to see me. Then she disappeared, and they found her tied to a tree in the woods with her throat sliced open.”

When he met your eyes, you felt a sliver of pity for him. Maybe he was right and you couldn’t totally understand what losing a child was like, but you had lost a few people yourself. You had seen the same look in your own eyes, standing in the mirror before Allison’s funeral. It was an empty, desperate look, and maybe at your lowest point, you would have done anything to get her back too.

“I’m sorry,” you told him, forcing yourself to stay focused on the plan. “That must have been terrible.”

“It was,” he whispered. “But I’m making it right. I’m going to do right by Emily, finally.”

“I know she was with her girlfriend that night,” you told him. “I know she was happy.”

He nodded. “Caitlin. It bothered Emily’s mom that she liked girls. Never bothered me. But I guess that doesn’t matter now. She chose her anyway.”

“I think it does.” Your grip on the mug tightened. “You accepted her despite everything else. That’s what you’re supposed to do.”

He sighed. “I just hope she’ll see that when she’s back.”

You gave a shaky nod, and hoped your voice didn’t tremble too much. “I think she’ll understand.”

He looked up at you suddenly, and you felt your breath catch in your throat. “You do?”

“Yeah,” you whispered. “I do.”

He nodded, and looked over at the corpse on the bed. That was your moment. You raised the mug and splashed its scalding hot contents in Dave’s face. Some of it spilled back onto your arm and you gasped, but you ignored it enough to take the opportunity to bolt up from the floor.

He was still screaming as you scrambled up the steps, stumbling on your shaky legs about halfway up. You grabbed the railing and hauled yourself up, just as you heard him grunting.

“Stop!” he roared. “I need you!”

You threw open the door and slammed it shut, but you didn’t have the key to lock it. You stumbled through the narrow hallway, right into the living room where Dave had first brought you. When you saw the front door, you felt a new surge of adrenaline rush through you.

You could hear Dave throw open the basement door down the hall, and you bolted toward the front of the room. As you passed through, you saw his taser lying on the coffee table, but the sound of his footsteps coming toward you spurred you to keep heading to the door.

You yanked it open and shoved past the screen door, out into the night. Moonlight shined down through the trees, but it wasn’t much. You could just barely make out the silhouette of Dave’s truck parked in the grass.

You could hear him running closer, and just before he threw open the door, you ducked behind one of the back tires. Your pounding heart slammed against your rib cage, and you pressed your hand over your mouth, stifling the whimper you let out.

With your eyes closed, and your back pressed up against the tire, you let yourself hope for a second that maybe he wouldn’t find you. But then you heard his boots crunching in the grass behind you, and you knew you wouldn’t be so lucky.

You scrambled up and headed for the trees, but Dave saw you run. “Hey! Stop!”

Brambles and branches whipped your skin as you tore through the trees, but even if you wanted to stop, you weren’t sure you could have. You thought that maybe if you just kept running, maybe if you didn’t look back, you just might be able to save yourself.

That delusion was cut short when you were tackled to the ground from behind. You screamed and scrambled in the dirt, grabbing for anything you could use as a weapon as Dave dragged you back. All you could grasp was a handful of dirt and some grass.

“Stop fighting!” he growled, yanking you back by your hair.

“Let me go,” you screamed into the darkness, still trying to fight against him. “Someone help me! Help me, please!”

“Shut up,” he commanded. “You tricked me. You got me talking, and you tricked me into letting my guard down.”

“Please,” you sobbed, and he shoved you into the dirt on your back. “Please, don’t do this.”

Suddenly something lit up the darkness, and you saw that it was the taser in his hand. You scrambled back on your palms, but he just kept coming closer.

“Help me!” you screamed as you tried to back away. “Please, someone help!”

You yelped as the electricity crackled through your body, and collapsed into the dirt. “Please,” you mumbled, half out of it from the current that had just run through your body. “Please help me. Stiles, help me. Stiles…”

Dave dug the taser into your side again, and you went limp. The last word on your lips before you completely collapsed was Stiles’ name.

“Ah!”

Lydia jolted up in her bed with a gasp and clapped a hand over one of her arms. A sharp burning sensation on her skin had sent her bolting out of a nightmare filled sleep. She had been having a dream about the night you disappeared, when she had run through the rest stop to find you. Instead of simply running into the building though, the rest stop seemed to stretch on forever.

She was running through the endless maze of waiting areas and bathrooms when she felt the pain on her arm and looked down. One word was burned there, or rather, a name. Emily was emblazoned into her charred, bleeding skin, causing her to wake up and scream.

Now, sitting up and glancing down at her singed skin, she realized there was no mark. In fact, when she ran her hands over the area, the pain faded, like it had never been there in the first place. To anyone else, it may have seemed like a meaningless phantom pain, but Lydia had been a banshee long enough to know when a feeling like that was something more. This had to be about you.

She shoved off her covers and reached for her phone, intending to call Stiles. Suddenly she paused, remembering the way she had snapped at him when he told her her research was a waste of time. But with your life hanging in the balance, she knew she didn’t have time to hold a petty grudge.

Stiles had only been upset about the possibility of losing you, and that was why he said the things he did, so she could forgive him, at least for now. Still, she wasn’t sure if he had gotten over his anger either, and she didn’t want to take the chance of him ignoring her again.

She would have to see him in person to make sure he would listen, so she shoved off her covers, grabbed her jacket, and headed out the door at 3am.

“Stiles.”

He grunted.

“Stiles, wake up.”

“No,” he groaned. “God, Y/n why do you get up so early?”

“Stiles...it’s me.”

That definitely wasn’t your voice. Stiles opened his eyes and sat up, blinking groggily at Scott, who was sitting on the edge of his bed, holding his phone. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s Lydia. She just texted saying she’s at the door.”

“She’s here?”

“Yeah,” Scott told him.

Stiles reached forward to take his phone from Scott, glancing down at the screen. Sure enough, one text from Lydia was floating there. I’m downstairs. Please open the door. It’s important.

“You think she found something?” Scott asked.

“I hope so.”

Stiles hopped off the bed, still made and only slightly wrinkled from he and Scott lying on top of it.

He walked out of his bedroom with Scott following behind him, trailing him all the way to his front door. Sure enough, when he opened it, Lydia was standing there, still in her pajamas.

“I think I have a clue,” she stated.

Stiles and Scott shared a familiar look, but it was never a question of whether they were going to invite her in or not. Even Stiles, for all his stubbornness, would never have turned her away.

“Okay,” he told her, opening the door wider. “Shoot.”

“You’re sure this is it?”

Even before Stiles could reply, the screeching of the Jeep’s breaks gave Lydia the answer she needed. She sighed as they stopped in the parking lot of the dumpy Beacon Hills administration building.

They were there to find records on any bodies missing from the cemeteries, but judging by the look of the place, she had a feeling it would be lucky if they kept records at all.

“This is the address,” Scott said, waving his phone from the backseat. “Unless I’m that bad of a navigator…”

“No,” Stiles told them. “This is it.”

He hopped out of the car, uncharacteristically silent as the other two followed behind him. Lydia’s heels clicked ominously on the cracked concrete, but she felt a strangely hopeful feeling brewing inside her chest. She hoped that was a sign they would find something.

“Remember,” she said quietly as they passed through the front doors. “The name Emily could be important.”

She quickly realized she had no reason to keep her voice down. The place seemed to be deserted, save for one man asleep at the front desk. He looked fairly young, maybe early twenties, and had light blonde hair. Boxes of files covered the floor around his feet, most with the tops missing.

Stiles looked toward Scott, raising his eyebrows. “Should we take them?”

Scott quickly shook his head, shooting him a disapproving glance. Stiles opened his mouth to protest, but before he could waste any more time, Lydia cleared her throat.

The man bolted up, blinking and looking around the office in surprise. He jumped when he realized the three were standing in front of him, and immediately sat up straighter. “How can I help you?”

Lydia let her lips curl into a warm smile. “Hi…”-she glanced at his nametag- “Hi, Craig. We’re here for a school project, and we thought maybe you’d be able to tell us a little bit about the morgues and cemeteries around Beacon Hills. Our teacher told us we could come here to do some research.”

He glanced at the clock, still blinking away sleep. “Uh, okay. Well, I don’t know that much, personally. Technically it’s a part of the administration job. You know, taking care of the graves and all that, but, uh, it’s kinda boring.”

“We’re actually researching the more...uncommon stuff,” Scott told him.

“We’re doing a unit on crime,” Stiles chimed in.

Craig eyed him carefully, and Lydia’s smile tightened. “We’re just here for some statistics. Do you think you could tell us about how many grave robberies you get a year?”

“Hmm,” he said. “I’d have to look on the computer for the exact number, but we’re in the middle of switching our paper files over. It might not show up.”

Lydia’s face fell. “Can you try?”

He swallowed when he saw the look in her eyes and nodded. “Yeah, sure.”

He fumbled with his keyboard for a bit and tapped a few keys. “Uh, normally we’d get about 10 or 15 per cemetery every year. It’s a small town, so-”

“What about dead bodies?” Everyone looked toward Stiles, and Scott fought to keep his own eyes from widening in shock. He knew he was eager to find you, but he figured Stiles would be a little more discreet.

“Body snatching?” Craig asked. “It’s happened once or twice. Not for a while though. Last one was about six months ago.”

“Were you working here when it happened?” Lydia asked.

“Yeah, actually,” he told her. “It was a few months after the girl had been buried. I remember thinking it was crazy, because she was one of the serial killer victims.”

“Serial killer?” Scott asked.

“Yeah. You guys didn’t hear about that? Some freak was slicing people’s throats open and strangling them last year. Cops thought it was a serial killer, but they never caught the guy, and then it stopped.”

“Yeah,” Lydia said. “I remember that. Do you remember the girl’s name by any chance? I think she went to our high school.”

“Uh, not off the top of my head. But…” He wheeled back in his chair and plucked an open box from the floor. “This is all the files we’ve copied and given to the police. Grave robberies, body snatchings, and this one…” He plucked a file out of the box. “...is that girl’s.”

Stiles stepped forward, his fingers itching to snatch the file out of the man’s hands. He kept them firmly planted by his sides, not knowing how long he would be able to resist.

“Looks like her name was Emily. Emily Helsel.”

“Do you mind?” Lydia asked, reaching out for the file.

Craig shrugged. “Sure. I’m not really supposed to let you guys read this, but if it’s for school that should be okay, right?”

The three nodded vigorously. “Thank you so much,” Lydia gushed. “Do you mind if we-?”

She guestered to an empty bench across from the desk, and he held up his hands. “By all means.”

They crowded together on the bench, and Lydia handed the file to Stiles. He suddenly felt like he could breathe again.

“There,” Lydia said, pointing down to the typed print at the bottom of the page. “The relatives contacted were Dave and Marsee Helsel.”

“Parents?” Scott asked.

“Should be,” Stiles told him. He looked up from the paper and over at Craig, who was now swiping his finger vigorously across his phone. The sound effects from Fruit Ninja echoed softly from his desk.

“You think one of them took her?”

“Maybe. Hey, Craig?”

“Yup?” the man asked, not looking up from his phone.

“This was the only grave robbery around that time right? Like, for the whole town?”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure. Those really don’t happen too much, at least not with full bodies.”

“Alright,” Stiles said. “Thanks.”

He shared a look with Lydia and Scott, and when they were both done reading, they handed it back to Craig.

“No problem,” the man told them, but when he glanced back up from the paper, they were already out the door.

“Dave and Marsee Helsel?”

“One of them has to be on your list,” Stiles told his dad.

The Sheriff frowned at Stiles from behind his desk. “Stiles, as I recall, I told you not to look into any of this.”

“Dad, what was I supposed to do?”

Stiles held his breath as he looked at his father, and Lydia reached out to squeeze his hand in comfort.

His father studied him for a moment, and then he sighed. “I had a feeling you weren’t going to listen. Did you find anything else?”

Stiles straightened up. “No, but I know that was the only time a body was stolen in the past year.”

The Sheriff nodded, and rifled through the files on his desk. “Helsel, you said?”

“Anything?”

The Sheriff tensed suddenly, and his eyebrows shot up. “David Helsel. His truck was one of the license plates we flagged.”

“That’s enough to bring him in, right?” Stiles demanded. “It has to be.”

“Not to arrest him, no.”

“But to question him.”

His father gave him one firm nod. “It’s enough to question him. I’ll make some calls, Stiles, but for now, lay off the investigating. And I mean it this time.”

He nodded vigorously. “Yeah, yeah I can do that.”

“Alright,” Stilinski agreed. “Just give me some time, Son. We’ll find her. You have my word on that.”

When Stiles, Lydia and Scott all filed out of the office, Stiles collapsed into a chair just next to the closed door. He closed his eyes, and put his head in his hands.

“Dude, we’re so close,” Scott reminded him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“He’s right, Stiles.” Lydia grabbed his hand once more. “We just have to leave it up to the cops from now on.”

Scott pulled away and slipped his phone out of his pocket. “I’m going to call Kira and Malia. We all need to be on the same page if we’re going to help Y/n.”

“Yeah,” Stiles replied softly, leaning back in the chair and running his fingers through the brown mop on his head.

As Scott headed down the hall, Lydia eased into the chair next to Stiles. “Listen,” she said. “I know we haven’t always been the best of friends. I was horrible to you, and even now that we know each other, I know I get on your nerves. We both love Y/n, but she’s my best friend Stiles. In my eyes, no one has ever been good enough for her.”

“Including me,” he commented, eyeing her sharply.

Lydia sighed. “Stiles, I know how much you care about her. I know how hard you’re trying to find her on your own, but you need to trust me on this. We are going to find her, but it has to be together.”

Stiles pursed his lips. “Is that a banshee prediction?”

She faced him then, quirking up her eyebrows. Her green eyes became steely and determined, and her lips twitched up slightly. “That’s a Lydia prediction. And with an IQ of 170, I’m not wrong very often. At least not when it comes to Y/n.”

Stiles felt the tightness in his chest ease slightly. “Okay. I believe you.”

“Good,” she whispered. She squeezed his hand once, and then rose from the chair. “I’m going to find Malia and Kira. Like Scott said, we need all the help we can get.”

She took a few steps forward, and then paused. “And Stiles?”

“Yeah?”

“That wasn’t true, what you said before. There’s one person that’s good enough for her. That’s you.”

She walked down the hall, her heels clicking on the tile station floor. Stiles leaned back in the chair, and sighed. He hoped she was right. He hoped finding you would prove it.

#teen wolf imagines #teen wolf #selfignitingimagines #stiles stilinski

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forestwater87 · 6 years

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She really should've been more prepared.

At the end of the day, that's what she'd kick herself for.

Chapter 5: Party

"Well, Gwendolyn. It's a pleasure to see you again, though I wish it hadn't been under such unusual circumstances."

Gwen glanced over at Campbell, trying to figure out what reaction she was supposed to have. On the one hand, clearly they were meeting with the Woodscouts crew to work out some sort of deal, and she definitely didn't want to fuck that up for them. On the other hand, Edward Pikeman made her skin crawl, and he'd tried to kill her boss's son, so it seemed the rules of proper etiquette were a little all over the place.

Campbell gave her a tiny nod without directly meeting her eyes, and she ducked her head, hoping the mini-bow made up for the fact that she couldn't muster up a smile. "It's, uh, good to see you, sir."

"Sir?" He quirked his eyebrow, smirking. "You've got her well-trained, Cameron. Most impressive. But you should watch this one — she's not very reliable."

She almost jumped as warm fingers closed over her own. David was ignoring the conversation between the two gang leaders, watching a family paddle around the lake with a detached, cheerful expression, but he squeezed her hand gently before settling back on his elbows and looking up at the clouds. That kind of affection had grown familiar at this point, and while Jasper had briefed them not to be too close with Pikeman around — he had a less-than-subtle interest in Gwen, and Campbell was hoping to exploit that if at all possible — it was more or less automatic for her body to orient itself closer to his, weeks of playacting creating pathways out of muscle memory.

Besides, it was sweet. She wasn't really used to sweet, and she hated to admit it was growing on her.

Campbell laughed, too loud and hearty to be genuine, and clapped Gwen on the back of the neck with an affectionate shake. "No worries, sport. I keep an eye on my people." And the warning to them both was so clear it chilled the air a few degrees, causing her to instinctively reach out for David's fingers again, because god she didn't want to be here. Gunfights and explosions were one thing, but she wasn't prepared to deal with this kind of manipulative tiptoeing.

His hand met hers halfway, like he’d been doing the same thing, and though they both pulled back at a warning glare from Hook — or Quartermaster, as the rest of the crew called him — it was nice, just for a second, to know she wasn't the only one here in over her head.

Gwen had been specifically told by the Quartermaster not to pay too close attention to whatever Campbell and Pikeman were talking about, and she was more than willing to let their words wash over and away from her, focusing instead on the people dotting the park. For a Saturday in June it was surprisingly sparse, and she began to wonder if that was something one of the crew leaders had designed. It made people-watching easier, at least: a group of kids screaming their way up the shore, two twenty-somethings doing their best impression of every romantic scene from The Notebook at the same time, a dweeby-looking teenage girl fiddling with her slouchy shoulder bag, and a creepy-looking motherfucker who was observing the PDA couple with way too much interest.

She returned her gaze to the kids, noticing with disbelieving amusement that David was watching them as well, a small wistful smile on his face. "Miss them already?" she murmured; if they weren't supposed to be paying attention, they might as well really not pay attention. "It's literally just the weekend, David."

"I-I know!" He blushed, turning away from the lake and pretending to be very invested in something at the other end of the park (while steadfastly ignoring the couple making out). "I just . . . like my job." He shrugged, glancing over at her with a shrug. "They're nice kids. I know it sounds stupid, but they make my day better." Gwen would have to disagree with them being anything but horrible goblins, but she thought it was sweet how much he loved them.

Fuck, David didn't belong here. So why were they?

She eyed the creepy guy again. He'd pulled out something in a paper bag, but she was fairly certain it wasn't a weapon. Still . . . Drawing her knees up to her chest, she wrapped her arms around her legs and fiddled with the hem of her ankle-length skirt, looking around as casually as she could. Just a few inches from her twitchy fingers was a gun (hot pink and lime green, a gift from Jasper) that she really hoped she wouldn't have to use — a hell of a change from just a handful of months ago.Honestly, she'd gotten so used to the calm that she worried she was out of practice.

"It's a very reasonable request," Pikeman was saying, leaning in way too close to Campbell, "don't you think?"

"I think you should know better than to expect reasonable around here, Ed," Cameron replied with a grin, “especially considering you don’t have much room to make any type of request.” Of all of them, Campbell was the only one who seemed completely unperturbed by the weedy little twerp with the Hitler Youth bodyguards.

Turning her mind away from that conversation, Gwen continued surveying the park. Cute kids, obnoxious couple, shy girl, creep . . .

Wait.

Fuck.

"Mr. Ca —" she began, but before she could get the words out there was a blur of motion and a crack, and without thinking she twisted to the side and threw David to the ground, ignoring his startled yelp.

The ground behind them exploded, slicing the air where his head had been and splattering them with chunks of grass and dirt. The second the shot landed, Gwen grabbed David by his collar, hauling him upright and shoving him behind her while yanking free her ridiculous neon gun. There was something almost relaxing about staring down the barrel of that hideous weapon, a strange warm pleasure settling in her chest as she steadied her gun with her other hand and aimed at the bookish teenager's forehead.

"Dead or alive, sir?" she asked quickly, scrambling to her knees.

Of course, there were a lot of people she could've been talking to, which resulted in some confusion.

David gripped her hand blindly, face pale and spotted with specks of dirt like freckles drawn on with a marker. "D- dead?! You're not re-ally going to —"

"Well, it's not my decision, but I think alive would make things more interesting, don't you?" Pikeman interrupted.

Campbell's voice cut through the panic, and she latched onto it gratefully. "Don't worry about her, Gretchen dear. Why don't you just focus on getting Davey home?"

She hadn't even finished saying "Yes, sir" before she snatched David’s arm, shoving him ahead of her as they sprinted to a relatively more protected clump of trees. Behind her she could hear the sounds of returning fire, and she knew the police would be there in minutes.

Which meant they had to be very very gone very very soon.

Unfortunately, neither of them had cars. Why would they, in a city where the traffic looked like it hadn't moved in the last twenty years? But taking the bus was virtually suicide. She yanked her phone out of her purse, putting her gun in her bag and frantically pounding the touch screen.

"Hi Gwen! Having fun yet?"

"Can you get us transportation?" she asked abruptly, grabbing David's wrist and tugging him toward the sidewalk. Maybe they could get lost in the crowd . . .

Jasper laughed. "Are you crazy? The police've already set up roadblocks around the park! You're getting away on foot, guys." There was a few seconds of what sounded like rapid typing, then, "Okay, looks like there's a holdup near Park and Westmore, cops haven't gotten there yet. If you can get out through there before the hole closes, you won't be stopped."

Park and Westmore . . . "Okay, we can do that. But, uh, we might have to borrow something once we're in the road." Some sort of bike, hopefully, something that could weave through traffic without attracting more attention than the average douchebag motorist. "That could get David in trouble."

"Don't worry, we'll make it work. That's what I'm here for!"

Gwen wasn't sure if that meant Campbell would pay off whoever they robbed or just kill them, but decided it was better not to know. "Got it."

"Enjoy the rest of the party!"

She hung up without a goodbye, then grabbed dragged David toward the park entrance closest to the intersection Jasper had pointed out, weaving through trees and keeping an eye out for anyone. Whoever that assassin was hadn't caught up to them yet (between Campbell's crew and the Woodscouts, that girl didn't have great odds), but for a job like this, with so much firepower in one location, she'd be crazy not to have brought reinforcements.

"Gwe — !" David's hand ripped from hers, a bullet tearing through the tiny space between them and turning a nearby tree into wood chips. She whirled around to see another young woman — not the one who'd shot at them — holding a gun in her shaking hands. Her eyes widened when she took in Gwen's weapon, but she kept hers trained on David, who'd fallen to his knees and was pawing at his shirt, but seemed more bewildered than anything else.

"I promise you he's not worth it," Gwen said. She wasn't sure why she was even giving the girl a chance. Maybe David had softened her too much, but she wanted to at least try to let the kid walk away; she couldn't be older than fifteen. "Don't be stupid, you can still get out of here."

"I . . ." David started to climb to his feet and the girl's eyes dropped to him, her finger tightening on the trigger. Before she could shoot Gwen fired, watching her stumble back with her hands over her stomach.

"Come on!" Gwen grabbed him by the wrist and took off running before he'd even regained his balance, and for a second she was worried he'd fall over and she'd end up dragging him along the ground by his face. But he caught himself, his long legs keeping pace even though she was (in theory) in much better shape for this kind of thing.

"Wh —" She wasn't sure if his difficulty speaking was due to breathlessness or shock, "what did you — that . . . girl —"

"She'll be fine. I didn't aim for anything lethal." That was a blatant lie, but the last thing she needed was David having a panic attack. They reached the entrance of the park and stumbled into the street, Gwen scanning the frozen traffic for anything they could use to get away. “Fuck fuck fuck — there!” They weaved through the cars, nearly knocking over the bike idling on the other side of the street. “Hey, let us borrow this.”

The woman on the motorbike glanced between them, her plum-lipsticked mouth falling open in a small O. “Um . . .”

Gwen turned to David, a mess of embarrassment and nerves wringing his hands and a few seconds away from tugging his collar over his face, then to the owner of their escape vehicle. With a sigh — Jasper and Campbell really better be able to smooth this over — she tugged her neon weapon out of her handbag. “Not a request, lady.”

The woman’s face paled and she scrambled off the bike, the first bit of good luck they’d had this entire afternoon. Unfortunately she also shrieked, “Gun! She’s got a GUN!” at a volume that could shatter crystal, which suddenly made them the most noticeable people on the street.

With a muttered curse Gwen hauled him onto the bike behind her; she supposed it was also lucky that David looked like a kidnapping victim, even as he scrambled to hold onto her waist and buried his face in her low pigtails.

“Come on come on come on . . .” The bike started with a low hum, and she tried to remember everything her college boyfriend had taught her about riding motorcycles. They only wobbled slightly as she lurched onto the sidewalk, the impact jarring her teeth and making her wish she’d at least snagged the woman’s helmet for David.

But hindsight was a luxury to be enjoyed when not veering through stopped cars and terrified pedestrians.

David’s grip on her waist was almost painful, and despite the wind whipping past them she could hear his high-pitched, panicked breaths against the back of her neck. She wanted to tell him to calm down, if only so he’d stop cutting off her circulation, but there was no way she was going to waste a second on that, not when she could hear sirens growing closer. Silently praying he knew to hold on, she took a sharp right into an backstreet, nearly scraping them off against the ugly brick wall of the building looming above the small alley, and slammed the acceleration. She could see the traffic on Westmore at the other end of the alleyway, cars slowing but still creeping forward toward Park Street, and she sincerely hoped that meant the police hadn’t gotten there yet.

Come on, come on . . . Gritting her teeth, she slowed the bike to avoid crashing headlong into a pickup truck and took the turn out of the side street much more cautiously than going into it. If only she didn’t care about plowing over motorists . . . but “crazed couple faces several hit-and-run charges” was the exact kind of headline they didn’t want.

Unfortunately, that care (plus the few minutes it had taken to “borrow” a motorcycle) meant that the police were just arriving to set up roadblocks as they rounded the corner, sliding into a gap in the traffic as it slowed to a halt.

“What do we do now?” David whispered, still clinging to her even though the bike wasn’t moving. His voice shook a bit, as much as she could hear him trying to hide it.

“I . . .” Fuck, she wasn’t good at this. Well, she was -- getting out of places fast was one of the few talents she had -- but not without causing a lot more harm and attention than they could afford. Scanning the long row of townhouses as they slowly crawled by, she suddenly slammed on the brakes, jumping off the bike and grabbing David’s hand. “Come on, down here!”

“But --” He followed, wincing at the crash as the bike fell over. As they ducked into a small strip of grass between two of the houses, he lowered his voice and said, “what if someone’s home?”

He’d figured out her plan, she realized with a small glow of pride, dropping to her knees and fiddling with the doorknob on one of the townhouses’ side doors. “No one’s been home for a while,” she replied, scowling. Why was this lock so damn sturdy? “The mailbox out front was overflowing. If you ever go on vacation, cancel your fucking mail if you don’t want a break-in.”

David’s nervous frown cleared, replaced with a split-second smile. “That’s so clever, Gwen!”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I’m a real Rhodes Scholar. Goddamn it!” she hissed as her lockpick broke. She should’ve taken Jasper up on his offer to get her a better one . . .

“Do you need help?”

She did, although what was he going to do, chirp the door open? Still, the cars on Westmore had completely stopped, and it wasn’t like she was getting anywhere. Gwen took a step back and let David take her place, using the time to think through their options.

There . . . weren’t a lot, honestly.

Someone had to notice them careening into the road, and plenty of people had noticed the abandoned motorcycle in the middle of the street, if the honking was anything to go by. They weren’t visible from the road at the moment, but they had five minutes if they were lucky.

There was no other side to this little yard; it backed up into another house, so they’d have to go out the way they came . . . unless they found a fire escape and could make it to the roof, which presented some issues of its own but had more options than where they were standing --

Click. David sprang to his feet as the door swung open, beaming at her like a kid showing off a magic trick. “There we go!”

Her muscles locked up temporarily, so that for a second all she could do was stare at him. Shaking herself out of her shock (and forcibly closing her mouth), she hauled him into the building, locking the door behind them and ushering them well out of view of the sidewalk. “Where the hell did you learn how to do that?”

He flushed. “Oh, the Quartermaster taught me! I was a real rascal of a kid, and, um, Mr. Campbell thought . . . to keep me safe . . .”

She’d been hunting through the front closet, but turned around when he trailed off. His eyes grew distant, and she noticed with some worry that he was still breathing hard. “Mr. Greenwood?”

The formality snapped him back to her, and he gave her a slightly quavering smile. “Of course, Gwen! We’re still working, aren’t we? Not out of the woods yet!”

Oh, fantastic. “You’ve been doing great, boss,” she said, hoping the praise would distract him from what felt distressingly familiar.

She was no stranger to panic attacks.

But of all the fucking times . . .

The grin sharpened a little, grew more steady. “Really?” he asked, and the knot in her chest loosened at the genuine pleasure in his voice.

She tugged a brown leather jacket out of the closet and shrugged into it. (No one was going to see her looking unladylike, and this place was cold. Besides, she liked leather.) “You’ve gotta teach me how you picked that lock. If it wasn’t for you I’d probably still be stuck out there.”

Maybe she was laying it on a little thick, but it was worth it to see him inflate a tiny bit more, straightening his shoulders and tugging at his bandana with a quiet chuckle. “That’d be fun.”

The sirens had stopped, and she risked a glance outside to see that while traffic was still stopped, there wasn’t an angry mob outside their door. The bike was still lying forlornly in the middle of the road. “Looks like we’ll be here for a couple hours, until the roadblock clears.” She led him to the small living area in the back of the building; she really didn’t like those windows by the street. “Can I take a look?”

His brow furrowed. “A look? At — oh!” He reflexively put his hand on his chest, wincing. “Of course.” He took a seat on a small round ottoman, unbuttoning his shirt and folding it before setting it aside. He was starting to look pale again, his movements losing their clumsy confidence and slowing as his brain got tripped up on his thoughts.

Time for another distraction. “We really need to get headsets or something,” she growled, unceremoniously tugging his body armor over his head and kneeling down to take a better look at his injury. It wasn’t bad: a large, ugly bruise from the impact grazing his side, but it hadn’t broken the skin. She’d still bandage it up, if for no other reason than to feel useful. She snagged the first aid kit out of her purse and set it in his lap, hoping the responsibility of holding it for her would help ground him. “We should’ve had Jasp in our ears the whole time.”

It worked; he cocked his head to the side, handing her an elastic bandage. “Did Mr. Campbell not give you anything like that?”

She paused. “I really need to remember my headset.”

David laughed, the sound cutting off with a pained hiss as she pulled the wrap tight and tied it off.

The storm had cleared, at least for now.

She climbed to her feet, setting the remaining bandages on the counter. “We can loosen it later if it’s bugging you,” she said, gesturing with her chin to his side as she crossed over to the couch and settled down. “Compression’s good for bruises, so right now we’re compressing.”

“Thank you.” He was quiet as she rooted out her phone and texted Jasper: ‘couldn’t get out. laying low in a house on westmore.’ She paused, biting her lip and watching David stare at his hands. ‘we’re okay. i think.’

“Hey, boss?” His head jerked up, eyes wide and startled like a deer’s. Gwen grabbed her handbag and tugged A Game of Thrones out of it. (She’d turned her purse into a real Bag of Holding, in part because she wasn’t used to being allowed — let alone expected — to carry around something so cumbersome. The damn thing weighed like thirty pounds, but she’d be lying if she said it didn’t come in handy.) “Storytime?”

David brightened; storytime was his favorite part of the day at work. She was pretty sure he loved it more than the kids did. “Sure!”

With another quick glance out the window (no bike, but the traffic was still at a standstill), she settled back and listened to him read.

They had about ten minutes.

Ten minutes of quiet was a luxury in her line of work; if a mercenary complained about only having ten minutes to relax in the middle of a job, they’d be laughed at and then fired, and mayne shot for good measure. But she must’ve grown soft working for David, or just complacent.

Ten minutes of David’s soft lilting voice -- interrupted by occasional involuntary gasps as the book surprised him while he was reading -- before the peace was shattered with a spray of glass.

Brushing shards of the broken window off her dress with the sleeve of her jacket, she looked up to make sure David was all right; she paused on the way, her eyes landing on an innocent-looking plastic bar. For about half a second her mind whirred, trying to recognize why the damn thing looked so familiar.

Slim, almost dumbbell shape, large round holes —

“Shit, David —”

The world exploded.

Gwen sat up before her head had stopped spinning, hauling herself to her feet by clinging to the wall and trying to ignore the way the room looked like a blazing tilt-a-whirl. There was no way to tell how long she’d been out. She was alone in the room (she suspected the explosion had kept everyone in the road at a safe distance), but she couldn’t have more than a few minutes before the police came in to see what the hell had just happened.

Fucking stun grenades. She’d never liked them, not even back in her mercenary work. Too loud, too unpredictable, way too likely to set things on fire. (Jasper, of course, loved them for all these reasons.)

She couldn’t hear anything except a high-pitched ringing, and she’d never felt quite so vulnerable, exposed even with walls close on all sides and a veil of smoke blocking her from the doors and windows. But she wasn’t hurt, not beyond a few scrapes and an ugly-looking burn across the top of her foot where the explosion must’ve shot some debris. All the flashbang had done was . . . well, flash and bang.

Left her blind, deaf, and unable to walk, but in one piece.

“David?”

Sound was returning, faint and bloody like she was underwater, but clearing steadily. First the sound of sirens, only distinguishable from the ringing by its slight modulation, then a babble of panicked voices.

Closer, with the authoritative blare of a megaphone: “Eight, seven, six . . .”

“David, are you here?” Gwen staggered forward, trying to keep her voice down (though with her muffled hearing it was hard to tell). The grenade had landed on the table between them, so he should’ve been knocked flat by the explosion as well. But as she dropped to her knees — half in an attempt to escape the thickening smoke and half because her balance still wasn’t entirely back — the only thing she found was A Game of Thrones , the edges smoldering.

Okay, she wasn’t going to panic. She was a professional, even if the last several months had been less like a job and more . . . strange. He couldn’t have evaporated even in this extreme heat, so . . .

“Four, three —”

Fuck. Bolting to her feet, Gwen scooped up the book without thinking and lurched for the front door, snagging a chair from the kitchen. She shoved it under the door handle just as the countdown reached “one,” stumbling back and banging her hip against the coffee table without taking her eyes off the door.

“You have had the opportunity to exit the building. Now, we’re coming in!” There was a muttered order and then a thud that made her teeth rattle, but the door held. She breathed a sigh of relief and raced up the stairs leading off from the living room. It was a small townhouse, and she’d bought herself a few seconds.

Which was all it took to realize that this place was spotless, expensive, and completely empty. Wherever David was, it wasn’t here.

Maybe he’d stumbled outside? She could picture it, could see him pressing that stupid bandana to his nose and mouth, delirious with smoke and still reeling from the shock, and staggering into the waiting arms of the police. Even the thought of him leaving her behind wasn’t too crazy; David could be thoughtless, selfish even. (She’d once lost him at the mall for nearly two hours and had eventually found him kneeling by the loading area, holding out a pretzel she didn’t see him buy to a pigeon -- oblivious to her increasingly-frantic calls because he didn’t like his ringtone, so he put it on silent.) The idiot wandering outside with his brain almost literally rattled in his skull wasn’t out of the question.

There was another thud, louder and accompanied by the creaking of agitated wood. She hurried downstairs with her mind whirring furiously. If the police hadn’t already realized there was a back entrance, they would soon, and with the shattered window they might not even have to force entry. The right side of the building shared a wall with an identical townhouse, and the left framed the alley — making it her best bet, assuming she could squeeze her way through one of these freakishly tiny windows that cities always insisted on installing. Like there could possibly be too much light with buildings looming in every direc —

Focus, Santos. She lifted the kitchen window as quietly as possible, praying the sound wouldn’t alert the police in the front or back of the building, and slipped outside. It took some careful maneuvering to get her jacket covering the worst of the grass- and burn-stains, but within minutes she’d ducked out of the alley, doing her best to look like a rubbernecking passerby. As she sidled onto the sidewalk, letting herself get swallowed up by the crowd, the front door to the townhouse opened, releasing billowing smoke from the dying fire.

So the police had found the back door. Saved her a minute.

She stood on her tiptoes, scanning the assembled officers in search of a flash of gleaming auburn, but the only redhead she saw was a cop with pixie-short hair and a too-sharp gaze that raked over Gwen’s clothes and hair. (She quickly checked to make sure her gun wasn’t visible, realizing belatedly that she couldn’t have looked more suspicious if she was wearing an overcoat and wraparound shades.)

The officer nudged her partner, leaning in without taking her eyes off of her, and Gwen turned and shoved her way through the crowd, breaking into a sprint when she heard someone shout, “Hey!”

Despite her lack of recent running-for-her-life, chasing after small children must’ve kept her in decent shape, since she managed to slip free of the police without trouble. But she didn’t stagger to a halt until several blocks from the house, slumping against the brick wall of an ancient electronics store. She fumbled for her phone — maybe David had contacted her, or maybe Jasper had gotten word — and caught sight of something on her hand. Figuring it was dirt or soot or something, she moved to wipe it off and froze.

It was smeared from sweat and friction, but she could still read the note scrawled across her palm in cheap blue pen:

DEG

17 S LIL

sorry

Her brain, still choked with smoke and recovering from being stunned, processed the words in reverse order.

Sorry. Someone was sorry . . . Well, after the fucking day she’d been through someone should be.

17 s l i l. Slil? 17s l—

South Lilac. She’d had a few jobs there, not well-paying but with little competition. It wasn’t a nice part of town, the kind of neighborhood that was regularly in the news.

And the letters. They took the longest to permeate her foggy brain, and when they did her struggling hold on clarity was wiped out in cold white panic.

D E G.

David

Ethan

Greenwood

They had David.

#campcamp #camp camp roosterteeth #gwenvid #cc gwen #cc david #forestwriting #i don't have a tag for this oops #it's just the fahc ripoff fic #guess who can't write action?#dis bitch #gimme people talking in a room or internally monologuing about their feelings #none of this fake-shootout nonsense

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nostalgicatsea · 5 years

Text

This is my second go at filling out the year-end writing meme that @sineala and muccamukk did on Dreamwidth because my computer freaked out and shut down on me without warning while I was writing and my entire post was lost. I was almost done with it so you can imagine how upset I was.

So here’s my reflection on my writing in 2018! This is going to be long. You can read it in full here on Dreamwidth as well.

All of these stories are Steve/Tony unless stated otherwise.

April

Leaving Promises Against Your Skin (MCU) - Post-Civil War soulmate AU, 18,611 words

May

The Great Silence of Loss (MCU) - Post-Infinity War fic about grief and hope vs. despair, 1,075 words

Little Moments in Between: A Brief Interlude (MCU) - Tony thinks about his relationship with Steve while they wait for a train, 844 words

June

Signals Between Two Satellites (MCU) - Post-Infinity War angst and hurt/comfort fic about Steve and Tony seeing each other for the first time after the snap, 2,290 words

August

Hidden Declaration (Generation Kill, Brad/Ray) - Ray tries to convince Brad to get matching tattoos with him, 728 words

You and Nothing Else (MCU) - Steve doesn’t like seeing Tony stressed out and unhappy over their wedding plans, 785 words

Every Last One of My Demons (MCU) - Post-Infinity War emotional hurt/comfort fic about Steve and Tony talking after having nightmares, 1,705 words

Rushing Headlong in the Wrong (Right) Direction (Avengers Academy) - Steve bids on Tony in their school’s charity auction, wrongly assuming that he’s auctioning off a date, 2,727 words

December

A Long, Final Rest Among the Stars (MCU) - Endgame trailer fic about Tony reflecting on how he’s come full circle from Afghanistan in a way, 2,732 words

Last year I wrote and posted:

Nine stories and 33,333 words, including the 1,836 words I wrote on New Year’s Eve for a Cap-Iron Man comm gift fic but didn’t submit because I wasn’t happy with it.

Overall thoughts:

Last year was a productive writing year for me! My 2018 New Year’s resolution was “to build on my progress and write even longer pieces and more works that I’m proud of.” Suffice to say, that happened. In the past two years, I went from writing one or two fics a year that were at most 1-2.5k to writing my longest fic at the time I wrote that New Year’s post (Multitude of One (4,277 words)) to the number of words and fics above.

Looking back, did you write more fic than you thought you would last year, less, or about what you'd predicted?

I didn’t have a specific goal, but nine fics is more than half my fic count on AO3 and the other eight were posted over the course of four years so yeah, WAY more than I thought I’d write. I don’t know how that happened especially as I get stuck while writing all the time.

What pairing/genre/fandom did you write that you would never have predicted in January?

Brad/Ray and Gen Kill. I never thought I’d write a GK story because just the thought of doing so is intimidating. Ray Person is intimidating. I love him, but he’s so easy to get wrong and I’ve seen people get him totally wrong or get close but still fall short. I didn’t even want to bother trying until @luxover gave me a Brad/Ray prompt and I wrote Hidden Declaration. Just to make things both harder and easier, lux is a good friend so I hoped she would be gentle even if she hated it lol, but I wanted to make her happy because she’s my friend. She’s also the only person I know who writes Ray perfectly so, you know, no pressure. But I wrote a thing! In a fandom I didn’t ever expect to write in!

This year's theme and the story that demonstrates it most:

A toss up between “angst with catharsis/grief and healing” and “post-Infinity War.” Or maybe “I never thought I’d write this.” It’s funny because after Infinity War came out, Alanna (aslightstep) and I talked about how it didn’t fill us with the desire to write any fics based on it, and three of my fics from last year are post-IW ones (four if you include the one based on the Endgame trailer).

Leaving Promises Against Your Skin hits all three things.

What's your own favorite story of the year?

Not the most popular, but the one that makes you happiest?I’m not sure it makes me the happiest, but it’s definitely the fic I’m proudest of and it so happens to be my longest and most popular one: Leaving Promises Against Your Skin again. LPAYS was the sequel to Multitude of One which, until I posted LPAYS, was my longest fic. I knew it would blow MoO out of the water, word count-wise. That was one of the reasons I was too afraid to write it because I didn’t know how to write long fics nor do I know how I wrote this one now that so much time has passed since I finished it. I’m proud of it not because it’s perfect and I love everything about it (a few things bother me about it actually) but because writing it was agonizing. I wanted to give up so many times.

The only reason I kept going was that I didn’t have that much of an option to do so as it was a STH fill. I’m proud of sticking with it. Once everything snapped into place, the words kept flowing…and flowing and within days, I wrote several thousand words more than I had expected the fic to be. This is how I felt once I was done. For the first time ever in all my years of writing, I got choked up over my own writing lol. I understand how great it feels to finish a long fic, write the scenes you had in mind for so long, and get to the ending that you envisioned from the start (I had the ending of LPAYS in mind while writing MoO even though I kept mum about it when people asked me what happened after the ending of MoO). I got so happy that I made my first photoset! That’s another unexpected thing that happened last year.

Did you take any writing risks this year? What did you learn from them?

A lot!

- I mostly write angst and never thought I would ever write unadulterated fluff with zero angst and I did so twice in 2018 with my first Avengers Academy fic, which also has a dash of humor (“humor”? I’m not really funny), and this wedding preparation fic, which also is an established relationship fic about marriage. I never thought I’d write those things either especially because wedding fics tend to bore the hell out of me and I never seek them out.

- Both of those fics were prompt fills (I filled four in total). I never take prompts because I get stuck and stressed out that I have writer’s block, but it worked out fine which I’m happy about as the prompts for the two fics were out of my comfort zone. I had no idea what to write for the cheese one, but I was determined to fill it. I can’t recognize myself. Fluff? Humor? No angst? Established relationship? Wedding preparations? Prompt fills? ME? What?!

- Long fics! I wrote my first one because eh, 4k doesn’t count as long even though it was long for me at the time.

- MCU Tony POV. MCU Tony scares me from a writing standpoint, so I avoided writing from his POV until LPAYS and now I have two fics with his POV.

I learned that what may seem or be impossible to do doesn’t stay that way and that trying to get out of my comfort zone can be incredibly rewarding. It’s worth a shot even if I fail because I gain more experience, and it makes me feel hopeful about growing as a writer. It’s hard to think that you’ll ever improve or be able to write things you can’t write when you’re frustrated or not feeling great about your writing.

My best story of this year:

I don’t remember what I put the first time around.

My most popular story of this year:

Leaving Promises Against Your Skin

had the most bookmarks, comments, hits, and kudos. Not surprising because it’s a sequel to my most popular fic and it’s a soulmate AU which tends to draw people in.

Story of mine most under-appreciated by the universe, in my opinion:

Hidden Declaration has the fewest bookmarks, comments, hits, and kudos without contest, but considering the size and lack of activity in the fandom (which is why I don’t care that no one has read it, but I generally don’t obsess over those markers anyway especially if it’s a gift like this one was), I can’t exactly say it’s underappreciated by the universe.

You and Nothing Else had the lowest comments to hits ratio, but it performed well on Tumblr where I originally posted it, so I have to pick Every Last One of My Demons which had the lowest kudos to hits and bookmarks to hits ratios of ALL my fics from 2018 and went a bit under the radar on Tumblr too. I thought it would do better because hurt/comfort! Post-Infinity War! Oh well.

My least favorite story this year:

Rushing Headlong in the Wrong (Right) Direction. I’m not good with humor, and the words kept coming but kind of in a “oh no, I can’t stop word vomiting” way. But hey, I never write dialogue-heavy fic so there’s that. And it’s a silly and fun fic for a silly and fun prompt (“cheese wheel”...I almost ended up ignoring the prompt because cheese wheel?) and universe. RIP soon, AvAc. You’ll live on in our hearts and in fandom.

Most fun story to write:

Hidden Declaration! Ray was super fun, which is a big surprise as I said he’s scary to write. There are one or two lines in the story hat I want to tweak because I think they toe the line in being “too much” (as I said, he’s very easy to get wrong, and many people go overboard with him), but he’s really fun to write and I love him!

Story with the sweetest moment:

You and Nothing Else. The part where Steve tells Tony he doesn’t care about what their wedding is like and Tony not only gets what he means, but he meets him halfway because what he ultimately decides on reminds him of Steve.

Story with the single sexiest moment:

Haha I don’t have any sexy moments. The closest would be Hidden Declaration, where Brad imagines Ray beneath him with a tattoo that matches his (he totally learns how to tattoo so that he can ink Ray himself).

Most "Holy crap, that's wrong, even for you" story:

None. I didn’t do anything that’s more horrible than what I usually do.

Most overdue:

LPAYS. It took a year for me to post although I only seriously thought of writing it and began writing it months after I posted MoO.

Most eye roll-worthy title:

A tie between Rushing Headlong in the Wrong (Right) Direction which is awful, but I got stuck on a title for that one, and Little Moments in Between: A Brief Interlude, which is so pretentious (that colon!) and long for such a short fic about nothing. I couldn’t decide between the two phrases separated by the colon, so I used both.

Story that shifted my own perceptions of the characters:

LPAYS. It’s written in Tony’s POV, but it helped me explore Steve a bit and feel better about him. A lot of people, including me, were upset with Steve after CA:CW and hated his letter because it made little sense (I still think this way). I also kept thinking about the line “I can see now I was really sparing myself” and tried to figure out what he meant by that. For once, Steve was selfish and it led to disastrous consequences, but his selfishness came from losing so much in his life and not wanting to lose more and...I really do think he didn’t want to lose Tony and was afraid he’d lose him and that Bucky would fall out of his grasp again. He was a coward, but because he cared too much, not because he didn’t care at all.

Hardest story to write:

LPAYS again! I knew what would happen after the ending of MoO and had the ending of LPAYS in mind too while writing the ending of MoO, but I kept mum about it even though people wanted to know and asked me about it. I couldn’t figure out what scenes to write other than one BARF scene and the ending which I desperately wanted to get to. I couldn’t figure out how to deal with the idea of forgiveness, how Tony could ever heal, and how Steve could earn back Tony’s trust again. It was so, so hard and I was miserable until things clicked and then 8k became 10k...which became 12k. I thought I’d stop there, but then it became 18k. I couldn’t stop which felt so liberating, fun, and rewarding because it had been so difficult to write until that point.Thank you to everyone who listened to me, brainstormed with me, and held my hand through the process as I whined and suffered.<3 I couldn't have written it without you.

Biggest Disappointment:

I couldn’t write a comm gift fic that I was happy with in time, and I wanted this year to be the year that I finally wrote one. Hopefully I’ll be able to participate in another writing-related Cap-Iron Man event this year! Oh, and I didn't write that other soulmate fic that's been on my mind for years.

Biggest Surprise:

Everything under the “writing risks” part. Um...that LPAYS did so well. There’s a risk with long sequels; the longer a oneshot fic is, the less likely it is to get as much feedback as say, something that’s in the 5-7K range (I forgot the exact range, but someone put up stats about this), and if it’s a sequel? People back out because they think they won’t know what’s going on unless they read the first story. I was that “Troy from Community enters a room on fire with a pizza box, smiling and then alarmed” gif when MoO did incredibly well, and I sort of feel like that with LPAYS, even if MoO has double the bookmarks, comments, kudos, and hits.

Most Unintentionally Telling Story:

I don’t know.

Favorite opening line:

I’m not extremely fond of any particular opening line from last year. This is easier with opening paragraphs. If I had to pick, though, it’s “They were like bedtime stories, his nightmares” from Every Last One of My Demons.

Favorite closing line:

The one from LPAYS and the last four paragraphs of that are my favorite closing lines ever, but they’re spoilery so I’ll pick something different. My favorites have to be from Every Last One of My Demons, Signals Between Two Satellites, and A Long, Final Rest Among the Stars. I’ll pick two.

Favorite in terms of meaning: Hope, he thought as Tony turned to look at him, exhausted and afraid and beautiful from Signals.

Tony is the embodiment of hope for Steve!!!! I honestly think that Tony embodies that for the Avengers and especially Steve in so many ways, even in the MCU; it’s not as apparent as the other universes, but if you think about what Tony did for Steve in all their movies together and in Infinity War, which they aren’t in any scenes together, it makes sense.

Favorite in terms of writing/prettiness/mood: “Tony,” he heard the voice whisper again, and it was all their voices all at once, calling him to them from here and beyond, all with him as he drifted off, into the boundless darkness, into the stars and the lights he had loved and then feared and loved again from A Long, Final Rest.

In conclusion:

I’m proud of myself.

Fic-writing goals for 2019:

I’m not going to try to top what I did in 2018. I don’t think that’ll be possible. What I hope to do in 2019, other than write my MTH fill for @sabrecmc, of course, is to finish the two fics that have been on my mind for years: the reconciliation/reunion fic and the one that everyone must have heard me complain about by now as I’ve been whining about it on and off for about 4.5 years. Yes, that one. That soulbond fic. The one that I tried to abandon, but even if I put it aside for a long time, I can never actually let go of. It haunts me. I WANT TO BE FREE. I WANT TO BE FREE. If you’re curious, the two fics are the second and third fic on this post. I have some other stories I want to write, but those two are my only priorities. PLEASE, I WANT TO WRITE AND POST THEM EVEN IF I DON’T KNOW HOW.

Anyway, happy 2019. One more year until 2020! What a scary thought. I wish you all a prosperous, joyous, creative, and prolific year.

#writing meme #my fics

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virdoote-blog · 6 years

Text

Final Space: A sense of closure

(Special thanks to Oscar power for his help on this one: https://twitter.com/oscarpower)

(Virdoote)

"My boy...where's my boy?"

“Avocato, son of Daracato and Lonacato, you're time has come.

Twisting his head from side to side Avocato muffled out an upset cry, looking up at the shrouded figured before him, floating halfway off the dimly lit pool of water that seemed to stretch for eons for every direction. The cat man was knee deep in it, shoving some of the fresh liquid into his face to wake up from this nightmare. "i'm not dead, I can't be dead..."

The shrouded figure waited out the pleas and bargains from the creature before in respectful silence, and when Avocato bowed his head in confirmation, in acceptance of his fate. He reached out a bony hand, and took him away into eternity.

---- (Oscar)

The seasons were unfamiliar to Gary. At least on this planet anyway. It felt like an autumn back on Earth. Ventrexian weather was one of the many things he had never asked Avocato about. Or his son, for that matter. Still, he silently shivered in his overcoat and kept a stoic watch. He was greying at the temples, perhaps a little less trim around the waist then he'd have liked (a fact that Quinn constantly found cause to joke about) but he was still recognisably the Gary Goodspeed who had met that Ventrexian all those years ago.

The other, figure however? The one he was keeping a silent watch over now? He was unrecognisable. Not in a bad way. And not necessarily a physical way either, that teal strip of fur on the top of his head still standing out against the orange. But he had changed. Perhaps it was the sadness that lurked behind his eyes occasionally. Perhaps it was the way he tempered his laughter sometimes, as though he had been forced to give up a child-like joy much too young. But he had changed, so much from that rebellious, angry, inventive teenager he had first met all those years ago.

"There isn't a body in there." the feline figure mumbled, on his knees, barely audibly. "I know. We tried to find him, but-" Gary sighed. There was a marker though. A simple marble stone. 'Here lies Avocato, son of Daracato and Lonacato, father to...'

Even reading the words made Gary's head pound and his eyes sting. How could it be like this? Twenty years on, and he was still cut up about this? How could be like this? Shouldn't he get over this? Why did he leave him like this? The last living member of Cato clan meanwhile, just stared into the unfeeling whiteness of the tombstone, as if maybe he stared hard enough, he could go back and maybe see him one last time.

(Virdoote)

“I thought this would, make it better” The cat finally spoke, running an anxious finger through the fur on his head “they say funerals, t-tombs, all that bring closure but...I don’t know. I still feel the same way.” Littlecato bowed his head and began to mumble something inaudible, or perhaps in a language Gary didn’t know, but he could tell from the hushed tone and furrowed brow that it was deeply meaningful. Littlecato was praying. Ventrexians worshipped not a god or gods, as Gary had found out, more of an abstract representation of their ancestors. Passed souls who they believed stayed with them throughout every trial and tribulation, it was the same reason Avocato had carried that glass jar of ashes with him wherever he went, a remembrance of the dead and a desperate hope for something after.

Littlecato for his part had struggled with that belief after everything that had happened but now he put aside all of that hurt and torment and anger, and whispered a short plea loud enough for Gary to hear. “Keep him out of trouble, mom.” He opened his tear stroked eyes, gave them a single wipe and then turned back towards Gary. “you know what, I do feel a little bit better after all...this is nice.”

(Oscar)

"It is." Gary said hoarsely. Try to keep it composed man. You got your arm ripped off for crying out loud, and this is the thing that somehow sets you off? The feline figure must have noticed something was wrong with the older man though. He gave him a quizzical look, which Gary tried to counter with the same stoic, masculine look he had once seen on an Infinity Guards recruitment poster half a lifetime ago.

"You know, you don't have to pretend Gary." Littlecato sighed. There was a tense silence. The wind whipped around semi-audibly, rustling the bare branches of the trees that surrounded the small grave-site.

"I-er...we should get going..." the human mumbled, shifting his gaze to the ground, as though almost ashamed to look Littlecato in the eye.

Ashamed, why would that be Gary? Guilty that you're alive and he isn't? Guilty that you have to look his son in the face everyday and tell him things will be okay when they aren't? Guilty that you didn't sacrifice yourself instead of him so you didn't have to deprive a parent of their child. Oh, but you would know all about that, wouldn't you?

SHUTUPSHUTUPSHUTUPSHUTUP.

Gary stuck his fingers to his temples, rubbing them as his head throbbed. He turned away and looked off into the far distance, the eddying winds picking up clouds of red dust from the ground and flinging them about. "Gary. I feel the same way you know. Remember when I told you all those years ago how I didn't know we were both in the same club?" the feline said quietly, harking back to the moment he discovered that they had both lost their fathers. "Yeah?" the older man exhaled, still not turning around. "We both lost him together as well." Gary turned back and chanced him a few seconds of eye contact. "I thought it would get easier. Or at the very least I'd be able to get all the bad stuff out of the way quickly , like ripping off a band-aid...but it just keeps going. This dull...pain." He paused. "I'm sorry."

--- (Virdoote)

"Littlecato! Wait!"

The cat didn’t listen, didn’t want to listen, running on all fours all the way towards the vent on the other side of the room. Away from Gary, away from Quinn, away from that hole....

The vent grid clanged shut behind him and Littlecato could still hear the echoing voice of the human calling out to him in a strained, shaky voice, clearly distraught. He didn’t turn around though, instead he kept crawling and crawling until finally he was in an unknown, silent and dark part of the vent system far away from anybody else, pulling his legs up to his face and curling into a fuzzy ball of grieving, anguished cat.

He sniffled and felt loose tears fall through the sides of his covered face, his dad was gone. No matter how many times or ways he replayed the events of today in his head Littlecato couldn’t deny that, the shock melting away and the emptiness beginning to fill with cold, hard grief. “d-dad....” He mumbled, biting his lips to muffle the shaky subs escaping from his distraught form “I c-cant, cant lose you too...”

But his father didn't answer, and soon Littlecato relaxed his knees, wiped the tears from his face and continued on through the vents. Now his thoughts turned to the human who’d tried to grab him as he scurried away, Gary...that was what his father had called him, try as Littlecato did he couldn’t block out the pain audible in the man’s voice, angry and bitter but concerned as well.

For a brief moment Littlecato stopped and considered turning around, ears flicking in agitation, not yet....not yet.

He needed to be alone.

---

“...don’t be sorry” Littlecato finally answered after a moment of silence “you have nothing to be sorry about.” He got to his feet and moved towards Gary, standing a head taller than the greying human, and pulled him into a tender, soft hug. “I don’t know what I would of done without you Gary, you weren’t dad but...you were damn close.”

He pulled back, breath coming out in shaky rasps, looking back at the grave one last time. “I know why he liked you, you’re a good guy Gary, and you’re not responsible for what happened.”

Littlecato could feel the human’s chest tense and then flatten, burying his head in the cat’s cotton clad shoulder for a moment before returning, eyes heavy with tears. “Feeling a bit better?”

Gary knodded.

No other words passed between the two men and, as Littlecato would recall years later, they never talked of this talk of this moment ever again. Instead they simply walked out of the cool Ventrexian cemetery past the many graves that each could of represented a mother, a brother, a father. Past the steel gates and past the large trees stretching as far as the eye could see, paw on shoulder, until finally they got to the door of a small but typical Ventrexian hut isolated on the outskirts of the village.

This was nice, Littlecato had to admit and he felt an inkling that Gary felt the same way, real nice.

“Alright, guess i’ll see you around. Do you guys celebrate Christma-” Before Gary could finish his sentence the cat drove forward and pulled him into a warm, firm hug. Eyes wide the captain only managed to wrap his arms around and return the gesture, their embrace lasting one minute, then two, until finally Littlecato broke it with a quick sigh and a grin.

“Thanks man, for everything.”

“...yeah, you too.”

“So, Christmas? Sounds fun. Guess i’ll see you then, captain.”

And just like that he was gone, opening his door and pulling himself inside with one swift movement. Leaving Gary alone with his thoughts, and a certain sense of accomplishment, and pride.

“Guess this is that closure thing they always told me about.”

And with a chuckle he was gone too, back to the galaxy one, long ago re-purposed into a home ship and anchored on one of the major Ventrexians moons, and back to Quinn and H.U.E.

#final space #finalspace #littlecato #avocato #gary goodspeed

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