#and it’s time for me to skitter back into my dumpster fire! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

noxnthea · 2 years

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Winterhawk ficlet: “Our signs don’t align!” + astrology + established relationship + outsider POV + dumpster fire Clint + background Kate/Yelena/America wc: 1050

~~~

Clint walks out from his room the next day, his hair a mess, an astrology book in hand.

Kate looks up from her seat on the couch — he's even more of a zombie than normal, and she's pretty sure he hasn't realized she's in the room.

It takes thirty minutes and three cups of coffee before Clint emerges from his stupor. He lifts his head up slowly from where he's been staring at a single page for the past cup and a half, then blinks as he notices Kate for the first time.

“Katie,” he says, voice filled with way too much mourning for a sunshine Saturday afternoon, "A bird may love a fish, but where would they live?"

Kate glances away for the half second it takes her to school her expression. This is going better than she could have hoped. “Bucky is water sign.”

Clint chokes out a sob. “I know. Still waters run deep. And I’m nothing but a flighty fucking air sign.”

Oh god. This is pitiful. Kate’s in heaven.

She tightens the twist of her lips to keep from laughing. “Yeah, you’re not wrong. Geminis are known to be, hmm, what’s a nice way to say this… wishy-washy.”

“I so am, oh my god," Clint moans into his mug. “Do you know what Co-Star says my best career options would be? Do you know?? It says I would make a good Twitter personality. A Twitter personality, Kate! What the fuck can a Twitter personality offer Bucky? A Pisces best jobs include volunteer therapists and amateur poets. Those aren’t even on the same level. I’ll never be enough for him.”

Kate thinks about how the website she sent to Clint also says Pisces would make good “sad clowns” and “orbs of light”, or the fact that both Clint and Bucky are gainfully employed as full-time superheroes, but resists pointing that out. Instead, she says, “Yeah, totally. Did you see the part that talks about how Pisces like to be romanced with classic novels in the park and handwritten love letters? Yikes, man, I don’t think you’ve ever done that for Bucky, have you.”

Clint stares into his mug as though it’s the end of the world, and his death awaits him after his last sip. “You mean the part right above where it talks about how they attract people with bad boundaries who take advantage of their compassion? Kate, it’s me. I have no boundaries. I’m the one who takes advantage of his compassion.”

Kate winces, pulling in a breath between her teeth. “Well, you’re the one who said it…”

Clint closes his eyes, inhales. “You know who else is a Gemini? Kanye fucking West. You know who else is a Pisces? Rihanna. I’m the Kanye to his Rihanna. I never wanted this. I’m going to ruin him.”

“I dunno,” Kate says. “I think Pisces are used to heartbreak and trauma. Bucky definitely is.”

Clint slips off of his chair, spooling like a limp noodle onto the floor of the living room. He throws one arm over his face, the other clattering backwards against an end table. “But I don’t wanna break his heart.”

Kate bites her fist to keep herself from crying in laughter. She can feel her face heating up; it’s probably freaking purple. Giving Clint that website and that book was the best idea she’s ever had. She takes a second to compose herself. “I dunno, Clint, sounds like your relationship is — “

The door to the apartment swings open, and there’s a loud skittering of paws as Lucky slip-slides across the concrete floor, landing with a crash on top of Clint. Clint wraps his arms around the dog, pressing his face into his fur, groaning out mostly incomprehensible sentences. Kate catches “I don’t deserve your love,” and “how could I believe — ” and “I knew it all— .”

Bucky walks into the room a moment later, freezing when he takes stock of the situation.

Kate tries to keep her laughter back, and it comes out as a half-choked snort.

“…Clint?” Bucky asks softly, murder brows furrowed in Kate’s direction, as though that’s ever done anything to intimidate her. “What’s going on, sweetheart?”

There’s a beat, then Clint mutters something deep into Lucky’s belly that Kate’s unenhanced hearing doesn’t pick up.

“What was that?” Bucky tentatively steps into the room, looking absolutely baffled. “You’re a, I’m a — what?”

Clint rolls out from under Lucky, and groans, fatalistic, “I’m a bird, Bucky, and you’re a fish, and I’m never going to make you happy!”

Kate can’t decide if he looks more like a toddler throwing a tantrum or a pirate walking to the end of a gangplank over a sea that’s swarming with sharks. Both? Yeah, both.

Bucky sighs, then looks at Kate.

She takes pity on him. “I introduced him to astrology yesterday and he found out that your signs don’t align.”

An entire spectrum of emotions flashes across Bucky’s face, before finally settling on a sickening exasperated fondness that makes Kate want to vomit.

He marches over to Clint and sits on the floor next to him, forcibly pulling Clint’s gangly body into his lap. “Clint,” he says, patient, “We’ve been together for five years. We got engaged six months ago. We’re getting married in three weeks. You know you make me happy.”

“Yeah, but the stars say I’m bad at commitment!”

The glare Bucky shoots Kate over the top of Clint’s head promises swift retribution.

She decides that it’s a good time to take her leave.

She skedaddles out of the apartment as Bucky starts listing all the ways Clint’s proven himself to be perfectly capable of committing to the people he cares about. She pulls out her phone, where several texts in a group message are waiting.

Star Spangled Sweetheart: how’d it go???? 👀👀👀 Assassinate My Heart: It is Clint. It surely went hilariously. Star Spangled Sweetheart: okay yeah but I need details. Star Spangled Sweetheart: did he cry? please tell me he cried. Assassinate My Heart: He definitely cried Assassinate My Heart: Lunch at 2 at Montellos. You can tell us about it then? I want the gore. Star Spangled Sweetheart: gory details, Yels. Assassinate My Heart: I want the gore. Assassinate My Heart: 🩸🔪💀 Assassinate My Heart: 🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸

Kate grins, then starts typing.

World’s Best Archer: don’t worry guys, I can do you one better. World’s Best Archer: I got his whole breakdown on video.

Star Spangled Sweetheart: !!!! holy SHIT Assassinate My Heart: This is why you are perfect, котик World’s Best Archer: dancing-cowboy-fingerguns.gif

~~~ ficlet #4 of @ladyladylady1's birthday week! Also, a uh, 5 month belated gift for @bekala, who was the first person to make me think about how Kate would 100000% fuck with Clint this way.

#no astrologists were harmed in the making of this ficlet #i just can’t get enough of a Yelena and america approved Kate prank #is Kate the best bro or the worst bro?#you decide!#if only Clint had checked his horoscope for the day #woulda said something like “don’t trust your loved ones for they will deceive you and delight in your agony’#also now I want to write Kate x Yelena x america forever #HAPPIEST OF BIRTHS LADY AND BEKALA IM SO GLAD THE STARS ALIGNED TO BRING YOU INTO MY LIFE #winterhawk #my fic #amerikate #kate/yelena #outsider pov #clint barton

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fairyjeff · 4 years

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Mime Hunters United || Kaden & Jeff

TIMING: Beginning of April PARTIES: @chasseurdeloup and @fairyjeff SUMMARY: A hunter and a “warden” fight a hefty friend.

Jeff had an inkling that this was a poor choice, but Deirdre had said that Kaden wasn't even a Warden. He was another kind of hunter, even if he said he was going to bring iron in case the fucking mime was a goddamn fairy. Now that he thought about it, maybe Kaden was right and bringing some iron to kill the goddamn thing was the right way to go. Still, Jeff made especially sure that all his glamours were in place - shadow, tongue, and wings. Somehow, he didn’t think Kaden would appreciate what he was either. He leaned against his truck until he saw another man approaching. “You Kaden?” Jeff called, pushing off his truck. “It’s Jeff. You down to find some fuckin’ mimes?”

Kaden was surprised to finally meet someone else who took this mime shit seriously. He’d faced a lot by himself, sure, but he wasn ever a fan of going up against an unknown force by himself if he could help it. Especially since he was fairly certain this weird mime monster was at least controlled by fae magic if it wasn’t fae itself. Good thing he ran into that warden online. “Yeah, it’s me. Good to see you, Jeff,” he said, extending a hand to shake as he walked up to who he presumed was another hunter. “Hell yeah. You got a weapon? I have a few extra knives on me if you need one.” Probably best not to delay this too much longer. “Which mime place should we check? There’s too fucking many.”

Jeff shook Kaden’s hand. It was so nice to see that not all hunters went after fairies. Kaden clearly wasn’t a warden, or he would have had a pretty big fucking problem with him now. He patted his pockets for a second, before pulling out a smaller hunting knife some uncle had gotten him for one of his teenager birthdays. ‘Boys like knives’ or something. Jeff didn’t particularly have a strong opinion on knives either way. He looked at Kaden, “ A few knives? You really came prepared, huh?” Jeff thought for a moment, before his face darkened slightly. “The Stripe Club,” Jeff said, lip curling as he said name. “Better place than any to start, bet that fuckin’ mime that hovered out my window was from there.”

“Of course I did. I heard enough stories.” Kaden wasn’t aware of many hunters, if any, who didn’t own a minimum of five knives, so the comment caught him off guard a little. Well, maybe he was newer. Not like he’d seen the guy around the Silver Bullet any so that must have been it. “Here, take one, just in case,” he said as he handed his current partner in mime one of his plainer knives. “The Stripe Club?” He ruminated on that a minute. “You mean the fucking mime strip club? Fucking abomination,” he grumbled. “Let’s go.” Kaden led the way, knife in hand, not sure how to track a mime demon. When they got to the alley outside the club, he honestly wasn’t sure where to start. Normally he’d look for signs or tracks but, what did those consist of for this… thing? He started looking around carefully, anyway, listening deeply, trying to pick up on anything he could. Granted, if it was a mime it would be silent, wouldn’t it? Shit. “See anything?” he whispered to his companion.

“This town is a fuckin’ abomination,” Jeff said. “Fucking mimes everywhere, damn thing pressing it’s goddamn face against my window for two weeks straight... “ He scoffed, disgusted. He followed after the shorter man, knife in his hand. He wasn’t sure if they were actually planning on stabbing the mime - was that allowed? Well if it was a demon, surely there had to be some extenuating circumstances. It was pretty fucking dark in the alley…”No…” Jeff whispered back. Something skittered across the damp pavement behind him and he turned around. Glowing eyes flashed and Jeff’s hand tightened around his knife before - “Oh! Hey,” he swatted Kaden with his free hand, and pointed. “Look, it’s just a raccoon. They’re kinda fucking cute for dumpster divers - hi buddy!” Jeff said, immediately distracted by the fuzzy friend… At least until suddenly, the fuzzy friend was gone with a sickening crunch. Jeff stopped, and replayed what had just happened in his head. A long tongue thing had shot out and tanked the animal - Oh no. There it was. In all its glory. Looking at them. Except… “Kaden!” He whispered. “I found it! Except… I don’t think it’s the one outside my window… That one’s bigger. Why’s it just looking at us.”

Kaden’s head shot towards the sound of scuttering and saw the fuzzy round raccoon. For a moment he was relieved. Only a moment, however. Because the fucking mime demon descended from fucking nowhere and opened its waist to reveal a gullet lined with sharp teeth. And that was it for that poor raccoon. “Yeah, I fucking see, alright,” he whispered to his companion, his face going a little white watching the whole scene. Putain. It was worse than he’d possibly imagined. Well, and a little… heftier. It’s size didn’t stop it any from twisting and crawling in fluid but staccato motions right towards them. It didn’t look satisfied by the raccoon. Putain. He’d encountered a lot of monsters in his time, but nothing like this. Nothing. Well, no time like the present. “Cover me,” he shouted as he took off running towards the beast, knife out. The creature saw, and sped up, nails screeching against the asphalt in a decibel that made him want to curl up and cringe. He didn’t hesitate, just dodged to the right from the teeth and brought his blade down to slash the beast. Only there was less slashing, more bending. His eyes grew wide as he looked down at his knife, now in a lovely 90 degree angle, then back at the monster. It was unharmed but far from unphased. It turned towards him, yanked him by his knee and pulled him to the ground, all without making a single sound. It bent back and the fangs appeared again. Kaden winced and shoved his broken knife towards it with one hand and covered his face with the other and hoped for the fucking best.

Maybe this was a bad idea. Jeff didn’t get the chance to voice his opinion though, before Kaden sprang forward, yelling at him to cover him. Cover him? What was this? A video game? He didn’t know how to do that. He just punched stuff! Oh god, did that Mime have fangs?? And in the wrong place? What the fuck? Jeff considered all the research he had done before moving, and decided that he wouldn’t have moved here no matter how many fucking fairies there were. Finally, he rushed forward to help poor Kaden as he watched the knife bend. Uh-oh, Kaden was a hunter, he probably had really good knives. Jeff jumped forward,in front of Kaden, his fist connecting hard with the mimes face - ow. “Fuck!” he swore, his hand throbbing in pain as the Mime stopped and seemed to just stare. Time to fucking go. Jeff cussed loudly again, turning to stoop and grab Kaden, intent on dragging his friend away. And it worked too. At least, until it didn’t. The mime thing grabbed his leg. “HEY! Let go!”

Kaden thought this might be the end. His time had come. And it had come to a fucking mime demon spawn of all things. Putain de bordel de merde, what a shitty way to die. He braced himself for the teeth only… nothing. Beyond some swearing. He looked up to see Jeff shaking his hand out. “Did you just--” He didn’t get a chance to ask, he was being dragged out of the line of fire. For the best, really. He was just about to scramble up to his feet and take off running when he felt a tug at his ankle. Fuck. The shit had him by the shoe. Without hesitating, Kaden used his other foot to shove the bottom of his boot from his heel. Damnit, they were wll broken in and fit snug. Maybe too snug. He struggled as the monster dug its nails farther into the leather, intent on dragging him back towards its mouth. One big shove and the shoe flung off his foot and into the face (??) of the monster. No time to admire the damage. One shoe left, Kaden stumbled to his feet and started running. He assumed Jeff would follow suit if he hadn’t already. No monster was worth this.

“Let fucking go, you piece of shit!” Jeff’s hand still hurt, and his brows furrowed as the stupid mime didn’t let him tug Kaden away. Jeff gave another stubborn tug before Kaden took matters into his own hands and let the damn thing have his boot. Oh. That was probably a better decision. His plan was just to punch it until it let go. His throbbing hand told him that was a shitty idea. One shoe down, Kaden got up and ran away. Jeff only looked at the hefty beast before turning and following soon, patting his pants pockets as he ran after him. “My car’s closest!” He said, finally locating the keys to his truck. “Let’s drive away and hope we never, ever fucking see it again!!”

Kaden nodded silently while sprinting behind Jeff to his car. He hopped into the seat the second the door was unlocked, then leaned back in the seat trying to catch his breath again. A quick look out of the back window as the car took off and he could see the hefty mime beast scuttling out from the alley. “Putain,” was all he could manage to say. That was close. Too fucking close. The last he saw of the monster before they sped away, it hinged itself back again and swallowed his boot whole. “I liked those fucking shoes, too.” He sighed. Suppose a shoe was a small price to pay for their lives. This mime shit was harder to kill than he imagined. Fuck. He turned back to face forward in his seat, lamenting his broken knife for a moment. “Next time we try bullets.”

#para #para kaden #kaden #mime hunters united #wickedswriting

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solitaria-fantasma · 4 years

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((Session #5 highlights, GO!))

Our DM admitted to me the night before that this session was going to be “plot and C H A O S” and honestly I am sO excited.

We start off with Matthias telling the party that he’d gone back to the bazaar and stolen a forged ledger. We’re uncovering organized crime today.

Recap: We still need to return Von Trikona’s books, as well as investigate/avenge the death of Clarissa Rose.

There are two new country names on the map - Croyden and Iandow!

New non-country locations listed include: Red Hawk, Caister, Alenwik, Aynor, Leeside, Dewsbary, Peinrith, Farenfros, Veritas, and Westwend.

Also ‘Fwee’ is actually spelled ‘Phwie’ and I need to adjust my notes.

We stumbled across a hungover wizard being harassed by a goblin. I immediately tried to scare it away, and rolled REALLY high intimidation.

“The goblin is intimidated af, and fucks off into the wilds.”

The wizard - Renaldo Ladboy - admitted that he’d ‘partied too hard’ the night before, and didn’t remember WHY he’d pitched his camp out in the woods.

Renaldo perks up when he hears that we are travelers, and heading in the same direction he is. He offers to take us there, but since a teleport spell has a limit on how many it can carry, and we are five people + five horses, he basically wants to put us in a Bag of Holding.

I imagined Renaldo pulling Udaji out by her horns and burst out laughing bc she’s sEVEN FEET TALL IT’D BE LIKE THE ENDLESS HANDKERCHIEF TRICK BUT WITH A BARD-

“Get in the fucking bag, Mountain!”

“What was the price of your freedom?”/”A Pringle.”

The interior of a Bag of Holding is - in the DM’s words - ‘a dumpster fire’. There’s everything from random treasure to books to laundry just thrown about in piles....and also there’s another person.

This is Helena (played by the DM’s mom), and she has been in here for a long time, apparently.

There is also Theo, a mysterious voice hidden in the laundry. They warn us to be wary of ‘skittering sounds’, and to hide when we hear them.

I think we were tricked.

Matthias knelt down specifically to slap Claus, who had rolled the highest on the insight check and found nothing suspicious.

Theo came out of hiding to once more warn us to be careful what we touched, and be wary of ‘the Guardians’.

Theo has been in here too long, though, and has a very small reservoir of spoons, so after this final warning, he disappeared back into hiding.

It is DEAFENINGLY quiet inside the Bag of Holding.

Udaji nervously strummed her lute, and the echo took a long time to come back…..and then we heard a flutter.

While Matthias tried to loot some potions and Mountain tried to take a nap, I strummed again to try and recreate the flutter….and I heard more fluttering. It was loud enough to actually wake up Mountain.

Udaji immediately ran off to investigate one of the sources of the fluttering, and then the fluttering turned into skittering. Oh no.

“Udaji, roll for initiative.”

I roared into the darkness and managed to intimidate away one of the gargoyles that were stalking me.

I also apparently terrified Theo with my ‘I Am A Mighty Dragon’ roar. Whoops.

I shouted back to the party “I FOUND THE SKITTERING THINGS!” and retreated one square, but Udaji is simultaneously too stubborn to completely run away and too afraid to run off into the darkness (again).

I TOOK “ZONE OF TRUTH” AS A SPELL LAST LEVEL UP I COULD HAVE CAST IT ON RENALDO-

Helena temporarily lit up our little corner of Hell, and I cast Heroism on Mountain because I have no ranged weaponry/spells.

Mountain could gain a max of 40 temporary hp from this spell if A) he doesn’t get hit and B) I don’t get hit and lose concentration.

Aaaaand one gargoyle promptly flew 60 feet and bit me, shattering my concentration. Heck.

Mountain tried to do a trick shot with his bow and accidentally shot Matthias.

Gargoyle #1 tried to bite Claus, but missed because Claus was too short for it to hit.

I desperately want to test out my Earth Tremor spell but my teammates are tOO CLOSE-

Honestly sessions with the DM’s mom are always a little bit awkward bc it sometimes becomes the mom and three sisters arguing and me just sitting there in awkward silence but I know she means well.

Theo ran up and hit behind the Dragonborn for safety when a THIRD gargoyle came out of hiding. This may prove to be a mistake

Gargoyle #1 hit Claus and I’m starting to wish I’d made Udaji a barbarian bECAUSE I’M READY TO RAGE-

All anger aside I’m actually having a very hard time not envisioning these gargoyles as THE Gargoyles from the Disney show, and I feel bad every time I stab them.

THEO KNOWS DIVINE SMITE?!

“It’s a very, very high pile of laundry, so we’re going to classify it as difficult terrain.”

I lost almost half my hit points in one turn and then got healed half of THAT back in the next what a roller coaster.

I FINALLY GOT TO USE EARTH TREMOR AND KNOCKED GARGOYLE #1 PRONE!

Two gargoyles down, one to go!

Helena coming in with the killing blow on gargoyle #1!

With the battle over, Helena picked up some of the gold off the ground.

Poor Theo was being harassed by those three gargoyles for at least a month, maybe more (it’s hard to keep track of time in a dark, sunless void).

Theo admits that he got tricked into entering the bag after getting injured fighting ghouls, and the wizard came along and offered to carry him to safety.

Renaldo has now kidnapped seven people with his Bag of Holding, and has four people lined up to punch him (the other three advocate for murder).

Theo gives us a much clearer warning now about ‘the Guardians’ - two suits of armor that guard Renaldo’s stuff, and attack people who try to steal it.

Matthias immediately disappears to try and steal things.

Udaji sat down and started filling the silence with lute music because she is realizing that she does NOT like this kind of heavy silence.

Astrid stole a few potions, and Mountain realized we could switch out our suspicious, fake gold for real gold.

Theo watched us in visible confusion as we poured gold out onto the ground, only to then pick up equal amounts of seemingly identical gold.

“This man has kidnapped seven people! Seven people and presumably five horses!”

Astrid has a crush on Mountain, and tries to snuggle up to him, but Matthias literally flung himself between them in protest, so Astrid snuggled up with Udaji instead.

We took a long rest, and at the end of it, Renaldo actually remembered to pull us all out.

The only reason he remembered was because he’d teleported with our party’s horses, and landed surrounded by equines.

Theo punched him square in the nose.

“Claus is old enough to drink, but Udaji is not. Do not let the Dragonborn order beer.”

We hadn’t eaten in two and a half days, so we all ordered double meals and chowed down.

While eating on the mostly empty inn floor, we overhear two women whispering across the floor.

Eventually, one of the women raises her voice and says “We are not having this discussion! You are marrying Hassan, and that’s final!”

Marrying the Lord who was supposedly betrothed to the young Lady Rose? So soon? How scandalous…

Matthias sidled up to try and talk to them, and finds out that they are, in fact, talking about the same Lord Hassan who was betrothed to Clarissa Rose.

The older woman demanded to know how we knew of this supposed ‘other prospect’, and Matthias lied - saying that we had been hired by Clarissa’s mother to retrieve her daughter’s body.

This, predictably, did not endear him to the two women, so Astrid had to saunter over and try to assist.

The women are Amelia (younger) and Charlotte (older) Ulsten.

They asked when this previous engagement had been made, and we said that it had been a month. Charlotte got very pale and very still, and Amelia immediately told her “I told you something was wrong!”

Charlotte tells us that they had received the marriage proposal around the same time.

Matthias asked if they had heard the rumors of ‘accidents’ and stolen dowries. They said no.

The two women were traveling from Westwend, in Croyden.

“Charlotte sort of blubbers, like a Karen who’s been confronted by a manager and isn’t getting her free Frostie from Wendy’s.”

I traded places with Matthias to try and smooth things over, and Amelia - who has never seen a Dragonborn before - can’t stop staring.

Charlotte unbristled, and explained that they hadn’t heard of Lord Hassan before the proposal, so they’d hired a private investigator to look into him.

Their PI found that Lord Hassan WAS a legitimate bachelor and Lord in Kenkilly, but they hadn’t heard of this potential scam.

“But we DO have guards!”/”So did Miss Rose…”

Amelia begs her mother not to make her see this through, and Charlotte agrees that this scenario is too weird for her, and that they will seek a marriage prospect elsewhere.

Matthias speed-ate all his cake purely to avoid sharing with anyone.

Astrid gave her father puppy eyes, and he eventually caved, and bought her a slice of cake.

Amelia was still staring at Udaji as everyone settled back down to finish eating.

Claus and Astrid may or may not be leaving the party for a time bc the DM doesn’t want to end up playing too many NPCs, and while I understand that, I am going to dearly miss my best halfling friend and only female companion.

#OOC #Quarantine D&D

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ilovemygaydad · 5 years

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title: until we meet again

pairing: demus (deceit/remus)

summary: a zombie apocalypse isn’t the place to be catching feels. unfortunately, dc is doing exactly that with a mysterious man that he met in an alley.

word count: 4.1k

warnings: remus, deceit, sympathetic deceit, zombie apocalypse, mentions of cuts and bruises, swearing, heated making out sessions, implied nudity, weapons, threats, almost attempted murder, mentions of broken glass, mentions of casual sex, mentions of hickeys, innuendos, fainting (once), mentions of STDs, death mentions, crying, sadness, anxiety, sort of breakups? it really isn’t one but idk, sexual attraction, possibly something else

***this fic obviously has a lot of triggers in it, so if you have any questions or concerns, or if you need a summary of parts with specific triggers, please send me an ask! your safety is my number one priority here, and i would hate for anybody to be engaging in unsafe reading practices!***

a/n: so this is... new for me. i’ve never written this ship or this kind of au, nor have i had deceit be the main character (in a serious manner, at least), and i’ve never attempted remus seriously, either. i hope i didn’t fuck up the descriptions of sexual attraction and making out because idk what i’m doing as a sex repulsed asexual! rip me i guess lol. also shoutout to @adultmorelikeadolt for listening to me ramble about this and proof reading it <3 they’re the real mvp here, so check their stuff out, too!!! also, this got way longer than i thought... whoops?

a/n 2: this is heavily based off of death valley by fall out boy! you can listen to it here

Commission Info

consider buying me a coffee

---

DC breathed a heavy sigh of relief as soon as the beat-up VW bus screeched to a stop inside of the checkpoint station. It had been far too long since the last one, and each mile that ticked off on the odometer made him increasingly anxious. The dense forests of Maine were the perfect hiding spots for zombies or bandits, which Virgil so fantastically liked to point out every time that it got dark. Yet they trudged deeper and deeper into the state, driving towards the safety of Canada.

But finally, they had made it.

Roman threw the bus into park and hopped out of the driver’s seat, and the others piled out of the back right after. The checkpoint station was huge--easily one of the largest in the country--but its size made sense given that it was one of two in the entirety of New England. DC gazed around the part of the checkpoint that he could see, and he was in awe at how normal it looked. Other than the giant fences and sentries, it looked like an average New England town. If he hadn’t known any better, he would have believed that there had never been a zombie outbreak in the first place.

Neat, uniform streets of houses stretched before him with shops-turned-supply-stations interspersed between them. Children were outside playing, and adults were going about their days with only a slightly heightened level of concern. Unlike all of the other stations they’d passed through on their way from Miami, it was clean and calm, and a person didn’t have to worry about being pickpocketed or stabbed on their way back from getting their rations.

The guards advanced on them, and Patton talked to the officers as they searched the bus for illegal contraband. Once the bus was clear, they were ushered into the nearest building--a small, gray brick cube that looked more like a sad excuse for a shed than anything--and were tested for the virus. With the exception of Logan fainting, the group was completely cleared to continue into the checkpoint without issue. A guide was designated to them for their month-long stay both to help them become familiar with the checkpoint and to dissuade any of the residents from becoming hostile towards the newcomers.

They drove fifteen minutes into the checkpoint to the visitor park, which was where they were allowed to park the bus. Although their guide, whose name was Remy, offered them a tour, they politely declined. They had been on the road for nearly six days, only stopping to rest or refuel, which might have been circumnavigated had it not been for the Pittsburgh checkpoint being on lockdown.

Long story short, they were tired and really just needed to sleep.

Well, everyone else needed to sleep. DC was too keyed up from the trip to feel anything other than restless, so as soon as he was sure the others were asleep and that the sun had set, he snuck out of the bus and took to the darkest alleys of the checkpoint. He moved with expert silence through the night. His feet took him far from the bus to a more desolate area. Similarly to a normal city, the checkpoint had a dilapidated section of buildings that the more unfortunate people lived, which seemed proportional to the size of the area.

It was eerily silent amidst the ruined structures. Aside from the occasional rat skittering across an alley, it was completely, utterly quiet.

Footsteps echoed just behind DC. Those footsteps were not his own.

Lightning fast, DC had his stalker pinned against the crumbling brick wall. He expected a fight back, but the man was merely grinning at him in glee. Electric green eyes stared at him with an unnerving amount of energy.

“The last time someone pinned me against a wall, both parties ended up without clothes on,” the man giggled, leaning his head as far forward as DC’s hold would allow. His mustache twisted along with each movement of his mouth. “I wouldn’t mind if this interaction ended the same way.”

DC decided to ignore that comment. “Why were you following me?”

“‘Cause you’re new! We never get visitors.”

That seemed fair. People tended to stay at their original checkpoints.

“And I think you’re hot.”

“Oh, and that makes stalking me so much better. I’m not disgusted by you right now.”

The man’s odd smile grew. “People usually are, so I’m not surprised.”

DC didn’t even know how to reply. He opened and closed his mouth, scouring his brain for a comeback, when a rogue hand tugged on his belt loop. Before he could even process what was happening, their positions had been reversed.

Oh, shit.

“You’re so pretty when you’re pretending to be tough!” The man was surprisingly strong, and his hands held DC firmly in place regardless of how much he struggled. “I wonder what it would be like when you’re angry. Just fully animalistic.”

“Fuck you,” DC spat.

“Promise?”

Logan probably would have been worried about how aggressively DC rolled his eyes. “In your dreams.”

“Who says we can’t make dreams a reality?” the man whispered in a voice that sent a chill running through DC’s blood. Was this man seriously flirting with him? Was he seriously flirting back?

“I don’t give myself up so easy to dirty street dwellers.”

The man smirked, and a dark glitter flashed in his eyes. “I put the ‘d’ in dirt, baby. I can show you if you’d like.”

DC was suddenly glad that the scars covering the left half of his face were gnarly enough to distract from any blushing.

“Come on,” the man crooned. “Come with me, and I can show you a good time.”

“No. No, I can’t.” DC rushed, and to his surprise, he was immediately let go.

“Okay.” The man took a step back, allowing DC an escape route.

“Okay?”

The man gestured down the alley, still smiling. “You are free to go. I can’t keep you here.”

“Oh,” DC said. “Okay.”

As DC walked away, the man called, “Good bye!” He pretended that he didn’t hear.

---

For some godforsaken reason, DC found himself sitting on a dumpster in the alley the next day. Being out at night didn’t affect him much as he tended to prefer sleeping during the day, and he had yet to be caught by either guards or the rest of his group. Still, he hadn’t exactly been expecting to want to return to the place where he had met the strange man.

But he had, so there he was, sitting on a dumpster lid and staring up at the sky.

“BOO!” a voice suddenly shouted behind DC, and he barely managed to catch himself before he could be sent tumbling to the pavement. The same giggling from the night before echoed through the alley as the man skipped around the dumpster, stopping right in front of DC. “Hiya!”

“Hello.”

“I can’t believe you came back! People don’t usually want to be in this area of the checkpoint.”

“Well,” DC said, shrugging. “I’ve been told that I’m very usual.”

The man laughed, setting his elbow on the edge of the dumpster to place his chin in his palm. “You’re so funny!”

“Thanks.” DC tried to imagine what the man had found so funny, but his train of thought was cut short when the man moved again. He crossed his arms on the dumpster edge and rested his chin on DC’s crossed legs, looking up through his thick lashes. It took every ounce of restraint not to make a strangled noise at the very, very intimate position.

“So... Why did you come back?”

There was a second that DC considered lying, but he knew deep down that this man would be able to tell. “You.”

“Oh,” the man said breathily as if all of the air had been knocked out of his lungs.

“Kiss me?”

The tone of the man’s voice (the man--DC didn’t even know his name) turned dark, and he said, “God, yes.”

They moved quickly, and the second that DC’s boots hit the pavement, he was pressed back against the dumpster with a searing kiss. He hadn’t felt such an intense fire under his skin since before the apocalypse--since before he’d sworn off feelings altogether. A sharp flash of teeth ran across his lip before biting down so hard that DC was surprised his skin didn’t break. In retaliation, he thread his fingers in the other man’s hair and tugged, which elicited a surprised moan out of his companion.

If DC’s skin had been on fire before, he was burning now, and he took advantage of the distraction to deepen the kiss further. Too soon, the other man pulled away, grinning dangerously with shining green eyes. His cheeks held a heavy flush that matched the red swell of his lips.

“Do you want to take this somewhere more appropriate?” he asked in a husky voice that nearly made DC’s knees give out.

“Please.”

---

DC continued to sneak out to meet up with the strange man. It was fun and extremely enjoyable, so why wouldn’t he go back? He had to spend the month in the checkpoint anyway; it made sense to find something to do (literally) in his free time. Once his time was up, he would leave, and everything would go back to normal.

He could forget any of these meetings ever happened.

He would.

Because they were merely for sex. Nothing else.

They didn’t mean anything.

DC turned his head to look at the man next to him. They still didn’t know each others’ names. They were two strangers who happened to cross paths in a dingy alley. Nothing more than the product of long lines of choices. A high that they just couldn’t get enough of.

The man’s eyes were closed, and his breathing was even and deep. In the moonlight that shined through the broken window, the gray streak in his hair glimmered like a silver lake. The soft part of his lips was starkly juxtaposed with the harsh bruises and scrapes on his skin. If it were any other time, DC would have described him as stunning.

Wait.

...

No.

No. No, He wasn’t thinking like that. Sure, the man was attractive, but that was it. He was a good fuck--a good time during the god damn zombie apocalypse. DC wasn’t some fucking teenage YA protagonist yearning for the pretty bad boy. It wasn’t like he’d fallen in love with this crass, borderline violent stranger.

Holy shit, DC had fallen in love, and he had no idea what to do with himself.

The man’s eyes fluttered open and met his gaze. He yawned and propped himself onto his elbow, grinning his usual Cheshire smile. DC’s heart pounded heavily in his chest.

“Ready for another round?” the man teased as he traced the hickeys on DC’s neck.

“I-I’ve gotta go!” DC scrambled off of the stained mattress, throwing on his clothes with urgency.

“What?”

“I just--I have to go.”

The man couldn’t even get another word in before the door to his room slammed closed.

---

The following three days were spent moping, napping, and pointedly not leaving the bus. Mostly napping. Definitely not moping.

He didn’t want to think about the pretty man from the alley. No part of his mind wanted to be reminded of soft lips and green eyes and burning passion. It was so damn tiring to confront the horrible reality of DC being in love.

Because this was the apocalypse.

And he was going to leave in a couple of weeks.

The apocalypse was neither the time nor place to grow attached to a man who skulked around in alleys like the rat bastard that he was.

But god, he had fallen hard. DC would close his eyes and see a silver streak and tan, calloused hands and shiny scars. Memories of sharp teeth on sensitive skin mingled with the sensation of hot flashes in his blood, quickening his heart rate as he wished to go back and be held and loved. What deity had he angered in a past life to deserve the burden of emotions? Why couldn’t he have just stayed in the bus on the second day instead of going to the alley? How was he supposed to move on?

A sad, strangled noise escaped his throat as he contemplated his existence.

The back door of the bus swung open, and DC stilled, pretending to be asleep. He was luckily turned away from the door, so his tear-streaked face wasn’t visible to whomever opened the door. They clambered in and shut the door with a heavy thunk. They sat, of course, right behind DC’s back.

“Dee, I know you’re awake,” Virgil said. “I could hear you sobbing from outside.”

“I know what you’re talking about, Virgil. I was crying.”

Virgil huffed out a short laugh. “Wow, double lies. That’s pretty impressive.”

“Don’t go away.”

“Alright. I won’t.”

DC turned to glare at Virgil. There was no reason to hide his obvious crying when Virgil had already called him out on it. “I hate you.”

Virgil smiled sympathetically. “I know, Dee, but you’ve been in this slump for days now. Even Logan is starting to notice that you’re upset. What’s wrong?”

“I just...” he trailed off, trying to think of what he wanted to say. “I met someone.”

“We all have met people in the checkpoint, dude. We don’t know anybody here--oh. Oh, you met someone.” Virgil’s eyes went wide as the realization hit him like a truck. “You fell for them.”

“Yeah, well, it doesn’t matter anymore. I ran away.”

“You what?!” Virgil screeched.

“Please, continue acting so incredibly melodramatic. It suits you,” DC grumbled. He rolled his eyes and turned away.

Virgil scoffed. “I can’t believe how fucking stupid you are! I might as well have a god damn rock for a friend.”

“Your words are so kind.”

“I’m sorry that you threw away your own fucking happiness because you’re afraid of love! You had it, DC. You found someone, and you want to just throw it away!”

DC pulled himself up, throwing a harsh look at Virgil. “We have less than two weeks left in this checkpoint. When that time is up, we will leave, and I will never see him again. Continuing to see him will only bring me more distress, not to mention that I have no idea if he even feels anything for me aside from sexual attraction.”

“Dude, can you shut the fuck up for a second? Seriously, for the past few weeks, you were happier than I’d seen you since well before the apocalypse.” Virgil let out a heavy sigh. “At least apologize. I know you like to keep up your morally-gray schtick, but he deserves to hear why you ran away.”

There were a few seconds of angry silence before DC spat, “I love when you’re right!”

Virgil merely smiled and pat his shoulder, climbing out of the van.

The sun wouldn’t be setting for a few hours, so DC had plenty of time to figure out what the fuck he was supposed to say.

---

It felt like major déjà-vu for DC to be sitting on the same dumpster, hoping that the man would show up. Sure, he could have just traveled to the man’s odd little apartment, but it was far more difficult to make a quick escape from a building than it was an alley. Thus, DC had settled to take his chances of sitting on the dumpster should his partner (fuck buddy? significant other???) be furious.

Anger was a pretty valid response given the circumstances.

It had been a couple of hours since he’d arrived, and it was a bit chilly. He shivered, pulling his old leather jacket closer around him. His eyes squeezed shut as if he could will away the cold air. Canada’s weather was going to be an absolute bitch if Maine was bordering on unbearable for DC.

“Oh,” a familiar voice exclaimed from in front of the dumpster, and DC’s eyes snapped open. The man had his hands on his hips in a childlike pose, but the glimmer in his eyes bordered on murderous. “Y’know, I was starting to think I’d have to hunt you down myself, but you just waltzed back in like the idiot you are!” He shifted slightly, and the moonlight caught the metal of the knife in his hand.

“Don’t wait!” DC cried when the man lifted his arm in preparation to strike. “I didn’t want to apologize. Please, you don’t have to hear me out!”

“I do? I didn’t realize that I was under the jurisdiction of lying bastards!” The man laughed, but it was dark and lacking any humor.

“I love you,” DC blurted before he could stop himself. He clamped his hands over his mouth in horror.

I love you. The words hung in the air like a child’s mobile. They couldn’t be retracted; they couldn’t be taken back. Each syllable stuck in reality. I love you.

“Oh,” the man said, staring at DC in shock. “You aren’t lying.”

“Yes,” he lied. “I am. I wasn’t scared of my feelings. My friends and I won’t leave in a week and a half, and after that...”

The man let the knife drop to the pavement with a heavy clatter, moving to take DC’s hands. “We’re going to die. It’s just a matter of time before it happens, but what we do with that time is up to us.” He paused, and a wicked smirk twisted his lips. “Who you do is also a choice to make.”

DC choked out a laugh because it was so familiar to hear a stupid innuendo coming from this man’s lips. Love coursed through his veins for all of the stupidest reasons, but it felt so good. Virgil had been right--he was happy. He was purely, simply happy. For once, the apocalypse was on the back of his mind, and he was enjoying existence.

“I won’t have to leave,” he murmured despite himself. “It will last.”

“We’ll burn that bridge when we get to it. Let’s make every second of this next week and a half count, okay?”

Maybe Virgil had been right about DC being an idiot, too, because he nodded and said, “Okay.”

---

There were only twelve hours remaining before DC had to leave the Maine checkpoint station.

There were only twelve hours remaining before DC had to leave the only person that he’d ever truly loved.

They were laying together on the man’s mildly disgusting mattress. The man--yes, he was still known as the man because they decided anonymous identities would be best--was lightly tracing his fingers down the bare skin of DC’s back, which would have been soothing if they hadn’t been acutely aware of the clock running out.

“You should come with us,” DC whispered. He’d been mulling the idea around in his mind for a while, but he hadn’t known how to bring it up.

“What?”

“Come with us,” he repeated fervently, sitting up. “The rest of the group wouldn’t mind one more person, and we could easily take you across the border.”

“No.”

It was DC’s turn to say, “What?”

“No,” the man sighed as he sat up as well. “I can’t go with you.”

“Why not?!”

“Look around!” He gestured at the debris-filled room. Glass and rock littered most of the floor, and the rest was covered in clothes and containers of food. “I have no worth. I despise using the characteristics of ‘good’ and ‘bad,’ but it isn’t fair to such kind people to have to take on someone like me.”

“They’d be happy to let you tag along--”

“I know, but I have to make it on my own.” His green eyes sparked with determination. “I’ll make it on my own.”

“Will you promise? I don’t care if it’s meaningless, but... it’ll make it easier to leave if I have reassurance that you’ll find me.” DC let his fingers intertwine with the other man’s in an attempt to forget about the pit in his stomach.

“I promise.”

---

One Year Later

Things had finally started settling down for the group. Nearly all of them had been able to secure some sort of job, and they had a roof over their heads that wasn’t attached to a vintage bus. Things were good. DC was happy, healthy, and safe.

A bit lonely, but he still had his friends.

He knew deep down that the man he’d met in Maine wouldn’t make it to Canada. DC had left him with a map marked with where the group was going to end up, but without a mode of transportation, the whispered promises to find each other would stay in the crumbling ruins of an apartment complex. That was okay, even if his heart still held on to the green-eyed stranger like there was a chance of being together.

When he’d eventually told the others of his fling, they’d all been supportive in their own ways. Patton gave him a long hug and whispered gentle reassurances into his ears, and Roman had told him that anything was possible until proven impossible. Logan scolded him about being reckless, claiming that he would have been pissed that DC had survived the apocalypse for so long just to be taken down by potential STDs. Even though Virgil had already known, he still offered a shoulder to cry on. DC would never admit it, but he appreciated how loved he felt.

He shook his head to clear his mind. It was nearly two in the morning; he should’ve been trying to sleep instead of dwelling on the past. Logan always liked to preach about circadian rhythm and all that jazz.

Whatever. DC cut his losses and went to the tiny kitchen, throwing a pot of water on the stove to boil. He took out his mug and a packet of chamomile tea that Patton had stocked for his insomnia as he waited. At least he was trying to coax his body into sleep. Virgil usually just listened to news stations on the radio until the sun rose. Old, paranoid habits died hard, he supposed.

A knock at the door pulled DC out of his thoughts. They never received any visitors, and they definitely were never this late at night. Cautiously, he grabbed the heavy flashlight from its spot next to the hall closet. He prepared to swing at whoever was outside and peered out of the peephole.

Bright green eyes stared back at him, and the flashlight clattered to the ground, barely missing his foot. He flung the door open because there was no way that he was seeing things right, but standing less than a meter away was the man from Maine. DC couldn’t believe his eyes. It couldn’t be real.

“Hey,” the man said as though they had never been apart.

“Holy shit.”

The man giggled, playfully setting his fists on his hips. “I traveled nearly three hundred miles to see you, and this is the greeting I get?”

DC wasn’t able to respond as Roman’s tired voice appeared behind him. “Dee, wha’s goin’ on?”

“Dee? Oh, that’s a cute nickname!” The man turned to Roman and said, “Hi! I’m his boyfriend.”

That sobered DC up fast. “He’s the one from Maine.” My boyfriend.

“Oh! Holy shit!” Roman’s eyes went wide with realization.

“Roman, this is...?”

“Remus,” the man supplied.

“Roman, this is Remus.” The name felt like gold on his tongue. “Remus, this is my friend, Roman.”

Roman held out his hand, which Remus shook. “I can’t believe you made it. How’d you even find us?”

“I secretly embedded a tracker in Dee’s skin before he left!” Roman looked horrified, and Remus cackled at the response. “Just kidding! He told me that you were going to Moncton, and I just asked around about a VW bus for a while until I found you.”

“Right...” It seemed that Roman had become thoroughly uncomfortable by Remus’ sense of humor. “I’m gonna go back to bed.” He paused, making direct eye contact with his friend. “And DC? Don’t be loud or whatever.”

“We won’t,” he assured at the same time that Remus said, “No promises!”

As soon as the door to Roman’s room was shut, DC threw himself into Remus’ arms. “You actually did it.”

“I did,” he said. “I promised.”

“I didn’t think you’d actually make it!” DC cried, feeling hot tears brim in his eyes.

“I didn’t either, Dee. I really didn’t.”

“I love you.”

Remus’ fingers tangled in his hair. “I love you, too.”

And maybe DC cried, but that was okay. He had someone to wipe the tears away, now.

now with a part 2 minific

#sanders sides fic #demus #ts deceit #ts remus #sympathetic deceit #deceit sanders #remus sanders #virgil sanders #m writes things #roman sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders

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keichanz · 5 years

Text

Oscurità, amore mio | II

I found my new title!

Previously known as Dalle Ceneri, this story is now titled Oscurità, amore mio which means “Darkness, my love” in Italian. Sooooo many hugs and thanks goes out to my dearest friend and inspiration @sssuperbartola! She’s been immensely helpful with writing this story and I couldn’t do it without her, or @sesshsbae! Thanks you two! <3

Read on AO3.

Dark eyes wide with a something akin to warried shock, Kagome took in the figure standing before her in all his muscled glory, his eyes the color of burnished amber, skin lightly tanned, and his mouth stretched into a wicked grin that did indeed reveal fangs, however they were smaller and definitely not that of the bloodsucker variety.

Kagome opened her mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. “You’re not—”

“Nope,” he said, crossing his arms.

“But you can—”

“Yep.”

She shook her head, utterly confused and yet at the same time—

No. No, she was just confused. She was not impressed. She wasn’t. She wasn’t.

“I don’t under—h-how—”

He sighed, as if deeply troubled, though from what Kagome was getting from his emotional grid, he was more amused than anything. The bastard. “That’s a bit of along story, I’m afraid,” he confessed and then glanced somewhere behind her before cocking a brow. “One, by the looks of it, that you don’t really have the time for.”

She frowned at him and turned around to follow his gaze. “What—son of a bitch!”

Trying and failing to blend in with the gyrating and swaying bodies on the dance floor, the vampire her boss had sent her to eliminate was attempting to make his getaway. If Kagome hadn’t been absolutely certain he was her target, the intense panic that slammed into her when he caught her staring at him instantly gave him away and after that he abandoned all pretenses of stealth and made a mad dash for the exit, shoving humans out of his way and ignoring the indignant shrieks of protest.

Forgetting about the white-haired vampire-but-not, Kagome immediately took off after him, managing to slip between the sea of people more effectively than he had and was out the door in record time. The cold air made her skin pebble but she ignored it as she hiked up her leather skirt and retrieved her Sig, double palming it as she edged along the wall of the pub and peered into the dark alley beside it.

She didn’t see anything, but that meant nothing. Vampires were adapt that concealing their presence, but Kagome knew what to look for, dark eyes skittering around and searching for signs of his hasty escape, mentally reaching out and attempting to glean his location from the faint trail of panic she could still sense.

Cautiously she stepped into the dark ally and inched further down the narrow strip of pavement, taking note of the trash cans, a dumpster and various boxes lined up along the parallel walls of the buildings. The sliver of moonlight helped her see, but it was still dark enough where she had to squint to make out the shape leaning against the dumpster. She kept her gun pointed at it as she stepped closer, but huffed in irritation when it turned out to be a pile of garbage bags.

Scowling, the dark-haired assassin lowered her weapon and thrust a hand through her hair in frustration, cocking a hip and chewing on her bottom lip in contemplation. She knew he wouldn’t have gone very far; she had extensive and accurate knowledge that this particular bloodsucker got his meals in pubs such as the one she just left, and it was the only one open around here for miles. She was positive he would be back; underlying the panic she’d felt as he’d fled had been a gnawing hunger that had been ignored for one day too long and he was weaker than usual as a result, so traveling very far in his condition was unlikely. Right now he was most likely biding his time and waiting until she gave up the chase before returning.

She inwardly snorted. Yeah, fat chance. She’d waited a whole month once before taking down her target; a few hours were nothing.

Grumbling in annoyance, but knowing there wasn’t much she could do at the moment, Kagome holstered her Sig, turned around—and jumped.

“Jesus—what the fuck!”

A fang-bearing grin. “Flattery will get you everywhere, mia bella fenice.”

Ignoring that rather egotistical remark, Kagome’s lips tightened as her hand flew to her left hip. “You have no right,” she hissed and had the fleeting thought to go for her gun, but immediately dismissed it. He was far too close and ten times faster than she; he’d be on her before she could even draw it.

“You gave me the right when you purposely attracted me with that god-awful travesty of a song,” he returned smoothly, giving a careless shrug and Kagome wanted to punch him because she couldn’t even refute that. “I’m certain Tallon rooted around in there as well and found more than he bargained for, which explains his hasty retreat.”

“Tallon?”

He stared at her. “Your target?”

Kagome balked. “You know him?”

He gave another careless shrug. “No, but I’ve seen him around. He frequents this pub.”

She narrowed her eyes in suspicion. “Only someone who also frequents a pub would say that.”

“I like their breadsticks,” he said blandly by way of explanation, his expression blank.

A vampire that liked breadsticks. Oh good lord she should’ve had a drink when she had the chance.

“I’m not a vampire,” he casually reminded her but Kagome didn’t believe it. Vamps were the only creatures that had the ability to mind read.

Crossing her arms, Kagome quirked a brow at him and asked, voice heavy with skepticism, “Really. Then what are you?”

He smiled at her, catching her off guard and she resisted the urge to inch away. The smile was pleasant enough, but there was an underlying hint that said danger and it made her uneasy.

“I already told you, bella fenice,” he said and his golden eyes grew hooded even as he continued to smile at her. “It’s a long story.”

“Stop calling me that,” she snapped, eyes the color of dark chocolate glaring at him with a veiled fire that threatened to burn him to the bone if he continued to provoke her.

He tilted his head, all innocence, and Kagome barely kept herself from snorting. Vampires were anything but innocent. “It suits you,” he said, racking his gaze down her body and she shuddered despite herself. His grin told her he’d noticed. “You are fiery. Passionate. I felt that a name like ‘phoenix’ would be quite flattering. You don’t like it?”

Kagome glared at him and felt her cheeks heat despite herself.

His grin widened. “Would you prefer something else? Perhaps piccolo gattina? Dolce angelo? Or maybe something more along the lines of bella bonazza.”

She had no idea what that last one meant, but it didn’t matter because going by the way those molten eyes crinkled at the corners and the deep chuckle that reverberated in his chest, it wasn’t an improvement. With every ridiculous name he rattled off Kagome’s jaw clenched even tighter and her hand suddenly itched, wanting to feel the reassuring steel of her gun against her palm while she popped a few silver bullets into the fucker’s forehead.

When still she didn’t answer him, he raised his eyebrows and the smile he gave her that time was downright lethal. “No? Then how about—”

She snapped and spat harshly without thinking, “Kagome! My name is Kagome, you goddamn—”

Kagome froze and the color abruptly drained from her face as her eyes went very large. Her heart beat erratically in her chest as the sense of what she’d just inadvertently done came crashing down upon her and she stumbled backwards as if the realization was an invisible force. Horror and dread roiled through her so strongly she felt sick and she swallowed compulsively as bile rose in her throat, her stomach rolling uncomfortably, her blood turning to ice in her veins, leeching the warmth from her skin and causing her to shiver almost uncontrollably.

The coldness she felt, however, was nothing compared to the deadly chilling smile he gave her then that was at complete odds with the searing heat in those molten amber eyes.

“Ka-go-me,” he purred, sealing her fate, and then he moved so fast Kagome didn’t even register it until her head was suddenly yanked back and two sharp points pressed against the soft flesh where her jaw met her neck. She jerked, but the steel arm around her waist prevented her from escaping and she bit down hard on her lip to stifle the whimper when a hot tongue lashed against her skin.

“You—you tricked me,” she gasped breathlessly, pushing against his chest, hating how her traitorous body reacted to his closeness. Gone now was the previous chill that had blanketed her body after she’d made her foolish mistake and in its place was a raging heat that roared through her with the intensity of a thunderstorm. Her nipples tightened, her muscles clenched in need, and warmth pooled between her legs—all instinctive reactions because she’d foolishly forgotten herself in her anger and irrevocably bound them together tighter than any contract ever could.

All because she’d willingly given a vampire her name and everyone knew that to do so was as good as signing your own death warrant because your life was no longer your own.

“No, mia bella fenice,” he growled against her neck and he heard her breath hitch in her throat. “I didn’t. You gave me your name willingly, and now...” He dragged his fangs along the slender column of her throat, brushing his lips against her thundering pulse and pressing a tender, whisper-soft kiss against the wildly fluttering skin.

Then his grip tightened, a savage growl erupted from his throat, and he snarled, “Now, Kagome, you’re mine.”

He struck and Kagome screamed.

*cackles gleefully* God this is so fun.

Piccolo gattina - little kitten Dolce angelo - sweet angel Bella bonazza - loosely translated “hot stuff.”

Originally I wanted Inuyasha to call her “sugar lips hot tits” but there’s really nothing that translates to those direct words lmao

I | II | III

#Oscurità amore mio #ii #inuyasha #kagome #inukag #supernatural au #fanfiction #keizfanfiction #iM HAVING SO MUCH FUN WITH THIS YOU HAVE NO IDEA LKAJFKLAJHDF;F

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windyfiend · 5 years

Note

Peter and Wolf, cape, monkey, run :D

(omg thanks for picking them! xDD Peter is RK800 -52, Wolf is RK900)

[She’s headed down Ninth Street.] Wolf’s voice was the only source of calm and clarity in the storm of panic that thrashed in Peter’s head.

“OKAY I’M ON MY WAY!” Peter howled while he raced and stumbled and bumped and skidded blindly through the crowd on the sidewalk, twisting and scraping past pedestrians at the last millisecond, narrowly avoiding catastrophic high-speed collisions.

He could feel the slight vibrations in the air that meant they were shouting in his general direction.

“SORRY! SORRY! SORRY! ‘SCUSE ME COMING THROUGH!”[You don’t have to yell.]“I CAN’T HEAR ANYTHING.”[Calm down.]“YOU CALM DOWN!”[Sit down and wait for me. I’m on my way.]“I AM AN ADVANCED PROTOTYPE I CAN CATCH A MONKEY THIEF.”[You’re missing two vital senses for catching anything but a virus.]“I CAN STILL SNIFF HER OUT!”[… Sit down.]

Peter trusted himself entirely to his GPS tracker, since visuals and audio were both nothing but a void of dark silence. He could feel the brush of people as he whisked by them, he could feel the pavement under his feet, the wind rushing through his hair, the small tremors a car made as it passed. The air pressure told him how tall the buildings were around him, where the alleys and side streets were, how thick the crowd was around him. He could smell the humans’ breath, their body odor, the contents of their shopping bags, how long it had been since they’d changed their socks, and when those smells got too close he ducked and dodged and followed the GPS route toward Ninth Street.

He could definitely do this without knocking over any old ladies.

Peter grabbed the corner of Ninth Street and catapulted down the sidewalk, luckily less crowded this time.

[In an alley to your left. She stopped.]

With a sharp grin, Peter skidded into the alley and stopped just before he might have collided with a dumpster. He drew in a slow, deep breath and analyzed the myriad of smells that greeted him: decayed food, stagnant water, wet brick, steel, rust, dead weeds … monkey breath.

Unbeknownst to Peter, the little monkey was perched in silence on the corner of the dumpster. Her tail swished beneath a tiny blue cape, and she chewed on a pair of highly-advanced sunglasses while she stared at Peter.

Peter stepped closer, sniffing occasionally – and then he pounced. “GOTCHA!”

The monkey screeched and wriggled violently out of Peter’s grasp, kicked him with a savage wallop in the face, and leaped off his head to skitter up a rusty fire escape high above.

The sunglasses clattered to the ground at his feet.

With a yelp of panic, Peter scooped up the sunglasses and jammed them on his face – and the world around him burst into light and color and sound. His heart raced, he breathed deep and quick, he slumped back against the brick wall, reassuring himself that he could see and hear again and everything was alright.

After a few moments, Peter looked up. Wolf stood at the edge of the rooftop above, staring down at him, the little caped crusader wriggling in his arms.

“The next time Jerry mentions babysitting,” Peter griped, “shoot me.”

Wolf twitched a small smile. The monkey clambered up his shoulder and twisted her tail softly around his neck. “I think she’s cute.”

“I hate you.”

#detroit become human #rk900 #rk800 #fic prompt

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cave-of-the-owl-witch · 5 years

Text

Nobody Will Believe You

Edit 12/12/20: I’ve done some minor rewrites in regards to Shadow’s species. All other aspects of the story remain the same.

((In the holiday rush, I completely forgot to post that Three Meat story I wrote for class! I’m still not 100% happy with it, but this is what I ended up turning in for my final grade. Story below the cut because it’s really pecking long.))

Sawyer idly kicked a rock as they trudged down the street, hands firmly in the pockets of their hoodie, hardly seeming to care as it went skittering along down the sidewalk. They sighed and watched their breath form a damp cloud in front of them, noting that they should have probably been wearing something a bit thicker on a day like this. Not that it was in the cards any time soon; if they had the money to spend, they wouldn’t have been walking back to their apartment in the first place. The thing that nobody wants to admit about a “serviceable old car” is that it’s old.

The wind picked up, cold and harsh, seeming to Sawyer to be almost mocking them as they pulled their hood up over their long, sandy hair. The wind still cut through, biting at their ears and nose, but it was better than nothing.

At least it’s not raining, they caught themself thinking. Their pace slowed for a moment as they waited for the sky to open up on them out of spite. It didn’t, and they continued walking with a shake of their head.

You’re being silly. What is this, a cartoon? they chided. Still, they were definitely having one of those days. Well... one of those weeks, to be perfectly honest. Their hours had been cut at work, they were barely making rent as it was, and now they had this unexpected car repair on top of that; they hated to admit it, but it was looking like they’d have to call their aunt to ask for help. Again. Ugh, would she even be willing to help them this time?

They kicked another rock and it ricocheted off the side of a brick wall, disappearing into the alley with an odd clanging sound. Sawyer looked up from their shoes and stared down between the buildings, fully expecting to see the grimy dumpster and the fire escapes, and even the rusted out, abandoned bicycle was not a surprise. They were not expecting to see something sparkly poking out of a puddle, half buried beneath some wayward autumn leaves that had blown over from across the street.

They looked to their left down the street, and then to the right, but there didn’t appear to be anyone around. The buildings on either side of the alley didn’t show any signs of life either, their windows dark and the signs in the doors flipped so they read “Sorry, we’re closed”. Whatever was in the puddle, whoever had lost it seemed to be long gone.

Still, Sawyer hesitated. This wasn’t exactly a bad part of town, but their mom had always told them that nothing good ever happens in an alleyway. But the thing in the puddle looked to be pretty big—much larger than just a penny, or even a lost watch—and curiosity was beginning to outweigh common sense. They knew it was probably just some random piece of junk, but what if it wasn’t? What if it was something they could return for a reward, or even pawn off to help cover those bills? Sawyer felt guilty for thinking such things, but they did need the money, and if it meant not having to call their aunt...

They glanced up and down the street again, then ducked into the alley; if nothing else, at least it would be a momentary reprieve from the wind. They knelt beside the puddle, careful not to get their shoes any wetter than they already were. Now that they were up close, they could see that the sparkle that had caught their eye was the handle of some sort of knife. The muddy water did little to dull the gleam of gold, but what really caught Sawyer’s eye was what they could only guess was a large sapphire embedded in the pommel. Their heart fluttered in their chest, and they hardly dared to breathe as they brushed the leaves aside to reveal the shiny, steel stiletto blade.

Gingerly, they picked it up and let the water drip down the tip before wiping off the rest on their jeans. It was cold and heavy in their hand, and whether or not it was real gold and sapphire, it was definitely real metal, and the blade itself looked sharp; somehow, they doubted this was a simple prop.

They turned it over in their hand a couple more times, looking for an inscription or something that might tell them who the blade belonged to, but all they found was the intricate braided detail of the handle, and some etched filigree on the blade. Honestly, it looked like something that belonged in a museum.

Watch it still only get me like twenty quid, they thought, letting out a short, humorless laugh. Not having anywhere better to put it, they slid it under their belt; it fit snugly, and the crossguard kept it from sliding down too far.

As they turned to leave, they heard something further down the alley. Their muscles tensed and they looked back over their shoulder, half expecting someone to step out of the shadows and confront them for taking the dagger, but there was nobody there. Sawyer held their breath and listened. It sounded like... voices? Voices, and a strange squelching sound.

The reasonable part of their brain was urging them to just go. Go, and don’t look back. Nothing good ever happens in an alley, remember? Whatever it is, it has nothing to do with you.

The louder, less cautious side of their brain countered, You just found that dagger, didn’t you? And that counts as “something good”. Maybe it belongs to one of those voices. Besides, if it turns out to be trouble, you’re fast and now you’re armed. There’s nothing to worry about.

...Maybe if I’m quiet about it, the reasonable side conceded. Sawyer was never exactly known for making wise decisions.

They slowly walked further into the alley, making extra sure to avoid the little puddles and bits of trash that dotted the cracked asphalt. Halfway down, there was a high chain link fence with a weathered sign that read, “Do Not Enter”. It was held to a gate with a bit of rusted wire, but the gate itself didn’t even appear to be locked; it was held closed with a simple curved latch. The latch, however, also appeared to be rusted, and Sawyer briefly considered dropping the whole idea.

That is, until they heard one of the voices again. It was deep and low, and although they still couldn’t make out what was being said, it renewed their curiosity. They tried the latch, carefully wiggling it up and down until some of the rust flaked off and they were able to force it up just enough to clear the side of the fence. It stuck fast in its new position, refusing to move again one way or the other.

Taking a deep breath, they slowly pulled the gate open and stepped through.

The alley continued for another fifty-or-so feet, then abruptly turned to the left. There was another dumpster, and a stack of old crates piled right up to the landing of one of the fire escapes. There had to be some kind of violation there...

Violation or no, it was awfully convenient, as it meant they could hide behind the stack from whoever was on the other side. Heck, maybe they could even climb up onto the fire escape and watch from above.

As they got closer, they could finally hear the strangers’ conversation.

“I know,” said the deep voice, “but we cannot stay here much longer. Every minute we do is another minute that we risk discovery.”

“But Meaty,” whined the other voice. It was high and feminine, with a distinct valley girl bent. “It’s, like, more than just my favorite; my granny gave it to me!”

“Do not try to gain my sympathy with lies; I was there when you won it in a game of poker. I will buy you two more just like it if we can please just get moving!”

While they were arguing, Sawyer had managed to pull themself up onto one of the crates, and was in the process of trying to get up onto another without being seen nor heard. Their head poked out over the top of the crate, but they still couldn’t see who was speaking; it looked like they would have to go all the way to the fire escape after all.

“No, you won’t, because there’s not another like it! And I so doubt you would be willing to shell out the coinage to have them custom made!”

There was a rumbling sigh, accompanied by... a gurgle? “There are literally thousands like it, you are just being stubborn.”

“I’m not leaving until I find it!”

As Sawyer stepped over the guard rail, their foot slipped on the wet grate. For a heart-pounding moment they thought they were about to faceplant onto the fire escape, but they managed to catch themself on the far rail at the last second. The dagger, however, clanged against the metal bars.

“Wait, like. What was that?” the female voice hissed.

A chill ran down Sawyer’s spine. Whoever was below them had definitely heard that.

“I told you this would happen!” the deep voice rumbled back. Though it was trying to be quiet, the voice still carried.

“Shut up! I’ll just... find whatever it is and deal with it.”

“Shadow-creature,” the other cautioned.

“Chillax, I’m not going to hurt anybody. Much.”

This was bad. Sawyer knew they had to get out of there immediately. They crouched down and made themself small, finally daring to get a peek at the strangers if only so they could know they weren’t about to walk right into them.

What they saw... didn’t make even a bit of sense.

Taking up nearly the entire width of the alley was a large... tube? It was pale tan with deeper tan spots, and appeared to be wearing a scarf and top hat which were splotched with aqua blue, lime green, purple, and magenta. It raised its front end and swiveled as if it was searching for something, revealing that the end of the tube was open. Inside was a glistening mass of brown, red, green, and yellow; if they didn’t know better, Sawyer would say it looked like a massive burrito.

A few feet away from the “burrito” was a creature about the size of a child, with deep grey fur that blended easily into the gloom of the alley. This contrasted sharply with its claws, which appeared to have been painted traffic cone orange. It had long, fur-tipped ears and a wide face, with a wider mouth beneath its black button nose, and catlike eyes that glinted in the dark. Not just catlike, in fact-- it looked every bit like a bipedal feline. The creature was on high alert, tensed as if to pounce.

But that can’t be right! Those have got to be costumes, or—or maybe animatronics! they tried to reason. Never mind why anyone would be in an alley dressed as a burrito and a bootleg Thundercat. These people were clearly weirdos.

If they were fast, maybe Sawyer would be able to go back the way they came? They thanked their lucky stars that nobody ever looked up and crept back over the railing, taking extra care with their footing this time; they didn’t want to know what weirdos like those two would do if they were caught. Below, they heard,

“...Hold up, I smell... gold. Meaty, that’s, like, totally got to be my dagger! There’s a pesky little sneak thief around!”

Once again, Sawyer froze, all too aware that they had nowhere to hide.

“Shadow-creature,” the burrito warned, more sternly than before. It went completely ignored.

“If you come out now, I promise to take it easy on you!” the shrill creature yowled, a fuzzy paw cupped around its mouth as it called into the alley. At last, it turned and spotted them.

“Aha! Up there! C’mere, you—”

With a grunt and a muttered curse, Sawyer jumped off the crates and hit the ground running, pitching forward and catching themself on one hand as they nearly fell again. Their hood flopped back and their ponytail trailed out behind them.

Shadow was right behind them, bouncing along on nimble legs, but Sawyer’s longer stride kept them well ahead of her. She screeched and called out words that the youth didn’t understand. They were almost back to the gate when they heard her shout,

“Hey! Let go of me, you lummox! This is so not cool!”

Sawyer turned just in time to see the burrito speeding toward them like a subway car, Shadow wrapped in some kind of leafy tendril. Another such tendril shot out of the burrito’s opening and caught them around the waist, lifting them as easily as one would a ragdoll. They yelled in surprise, so close now that they could smell the cooked meat, the spices, and the cheese.

“Three Meat, I swear I’ll—” Shadow’s protest was cut off by a third tendril, and she glowered first at the burrito, then at Sawyer.

Sawyer yelled again. The fence was mere feet away, and Three Meat was moving too fast to slow down before they hit it; in fact, he seemed to be picking up even more speed.

They closed their eyes and braced for impact, but it never came. Instead, they heard a sound not unlike the warbling of laminated paper, and their skin prickled as if they had been hit with snowballs from every direction at once. The inside of their mouth tasted like they had just licked a battery. Beside them, they could hear muffled, angry noises coming from Shadow. It lasted only an instant, and then it suddenly felt much warmer than before. Sawyer opened their eyes as Three Meat slid to a halt in a forest clearing.

This... was not anywhere near where they had just been. In fact, Sawyer wasn’t so sure this was anywhere near where anyone had been. The trees around them had pale violet leaves that glowed with a soft bioluminescence, and what they could see of the sky appeared to be a pale tangerine color.

“Wha?” they gasped, shortly before being dropped unceremoniously on the forest floor.

“I’m going to clobber you both!” Shadow shrieked, having been released as well. Sawyer barely had time to react before sharp claws were scrabbling at their belt, trying to retrieve the dagger. She pulled it free and leveled it at them menacingly. “I’ll teach you to steal from me, you stupid hu—ack!”

The leafy tendrils once again made an appearance as Three Meat grabbed her by the back of her shirt and held her aloft. Sawyer could see now that they appeared to be shreds of lettuce, though the head they came from would have had to be the size of a shed.

“For the last time, Shadow-creature, you will calm yourself!” he bellowed. His voice seemed to shake the trees, sending a flock of birds screeching into the skies. Shadow looked genuinely startled for a moment, then began to sulk.

“I—I didn’t steal anything!” Sawyer managed at last. “I found it, in a puddle in the alley!”

“As if! Like, do you really think I’m that stupid?!” the cat spat back.

Sweet mother of something, I’m talking to a cat. A cat, and a burrito in a stupid hat.

“You would have seen the human coming and you know it, Shadow-creature. Accept your mistake and let things be,” the burrito rumbled.

Shadow’s ears twitched, but she relented, tucking the dagger away and crossing her arms irritably. The burrito set her down and turned to address Sawyer.

“Human. You have seen things you should not have seen, and heard things you should not have heard. What are we to do with you?”

“I vote we knock him out and, like, leave him on the side of the road somewhere. Let the human police deal with him.”

“Your vote has been counted and summarily ignored, Shadow-creature.”

“Them,” Sawyer muttered. Now that they were more or less safe, their fear was quickly fading in favor of anger.

“Sorry?” Three Meat asked.

“What was that, human?” Shadow sneered.

“Not ‘him’. Them. And my name is Sawyer.”

Shadow shrugged. “Whatever. You humans all smell the same anyway.”

Three Meat cuffed her upside the head with his lettuce, which then retreated back into the folds of his tortilla. “Do not be rude! My apologies for my friend’s behavior, Sawyer-creature. I am Three Meat Burrito, and as I am sure you have no doubt gathered, the feisty one is called Shadow.”

“A pleasure,” they drawled sarcastically. “So, if your ‘friend’ is done trying to stab me or knock me out or whatever, do you mind telling me where we are and what in the hell is going on?”

“You are upset, Sawyer-creature.”

“Yeah, of course I’m upset!” Sawyer snapped. “I’ve been shouted at, manhandled, accused of theft, and from the looks of things, kidnapped by—by a pair of monster movie rejects! Forgive me for being just a little upset!” They were shaking now. They were angry and scared, nothing made sense, and they just wanted to go home and forget anything had ever happened in the first place. Begging their aunt for rent money would be a blessing compared to this.

“Who are you calling a reject, punk?!”

“This is not the time, Shadow-creature. One more outburst and I will leave you on the side of the road.”

The cat began to sulk again, sitting cross-legged on the ground with her back against a tree.

“I understand your frustrations, Sawyer-creature, but yelling and name-calling will not help anyone. Let us discuss things calmly and rationally.”

“There’s nothing ‘rational’ about this! This is mad, you know? Completely mad! Because I’m in the middle of a forest somewhere talking to a cat and a burrito!”

Three Meat sighed another gurgling sigh. “You humans always get so hung up on the fact that I am a burrito.”

“Because burritos aren’t supposed to talk! Or be huge! Or wear hats and scarves! Either I’m having a mental breakdown, or everything I know about how the world works is flat out wrong!” Poor Sawyer was on the verge of tears.

“Everything humans know about how the world works is wrong, and if I am not mistaken, you are finding that out all the time. There was a time when humans thought their world was flat, or that diseases were spread by foul odors, but now they know better. There was a time, Sawyer-creature, when you thought burritos could not talk, or be huge, or wear hats and scarves... but now you know better. It really is not something you need be upset about.”

They stared at him as if he had insulted their mother. How dare he tell them what they should or should not be upset about! It was his fault they were in this mess in the first place!

...Except it’s not. You were the one who picked up the dagger, Sawyer, and you were the one who went poking your nose wear it didn’t belong. There’s no one to blame but yourself.

The human seemed to deflate, and they suddenly felt very small.

“Just... just take me home, okay?”

“Gladly. In another half hour.”

“What? But why?”

“Because that is when I will be able to open another portal. Magic like that requires a fair bit of power, and it is wise to rest in between.”

They supposed that made sense. They hadn’t considered that a burrito could get tired in the first place, but then, a lot had happened that day that they hadn’t considered.

“So... what do we do until then?” they asked.

“That is a very good question,” the burrito admitted. “That is something I admire about you humans, is that you are always full of questions.”

“...Right. And I don’t suppose that burritos are full of answers?”

“How do you mean?”

“I still don’t know where we are or what’s going on. And while we’re on the subject, what were you two even doing in that alley, anyway?”

Three Meat made a low rumbling sound, shifting his weight with a soft squelch. “We are in Scotland, and I brought us here because it was the easiest point of access when I opened the portal; I did not want to smash anyone, nor leave any trace that we had been there by knocking down that fence.”

Sawyer gave him a look. “This is not Scotland. My aunt lives in Scotland. I have been to Scotland, and Scotland does not have glowing trees.”

“A lot of planets have a Scotland,” Three Meat said nonchalantly. “As for what we were doing in that alley... the less you know about it, Sawyer-creature, the safer you will be.”

“Bull.”

“Which part? The part about how a lot of planets have a Scotland, or the part about how you will be safer not knowing what we were doing?”

They kind of wanted to say “both”, but they were beginning to come around to the idea that maybe the world—no, the universe—was stranger than they thought. “The part about how I’ll be safer. That’s almost as cliché as ‘I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you’.”

The burrito laughed. “Perhaps, but that is the truth.”

Shadow twitched an ear and looked back towards the pair, having finally taken a moment to calm down. “Actually, Meaty... the kid’s been around us for a hot minute. Don’t you think there’s, like, a chance they’ll be in danger anyway? I mean, they’ve, like, probably started to smell like us already.”

Sawyer considered arguing that they weren’t a kid, but thought better of it; they wanted answers, and weren’t willing to risk derailing the conversation. Instead, they asked,

“Why would I be in danger for smelling like you? Other than hungry dogs or something, I mean.”

Shadow shook her head. “Not that kind of smell; your smell is like your energy, y’know? A sort of, like, vibe that can be tracked and stuff. It’s kinda like... your you-ness. And now your you-ness smells like somebody who totally travels through portals and hangs out with people like us. Which is super bad. Damning, even.”

“Do not be so dramatic,” Three Meat sighed in exasperation. “Although... you may have a point.”

The burrito went quiet for a moment.

“...We could give them a means to contact us. Just in case.”

“And by ‘us’, you mean you, right?”

“Naturally. I am the muscle. And the transportation.”

The cat snorted. “Fer shur, big guy.”

“Then it is decided. Sawyer-creature, I offer you my protection; it is only right, as I am the one who has put you in this situation,” Three Meat said, reaching into his hat with a lettuce tendril. It went much deeper than should have logically been possible, and he pulled out a smooth, pale blue stone. It had a sort of iridescence to it, and it was strung on a woven green cord. Etched into its surface were markings that Sawyer didn’t understand.

“But... protection from what?” Their voice faltered as they began to feel overwhelmed again; if things like Three Meat and Shadow existed, they couldn’t imagine what sorts of things might be after them.

“The Greys. Children of chaos, they typically travel in packs and sometimes pretend to be human... and sometimes not. They are incredibly powerful, and incredibly dangerous. There is one in particular I have been tracking for some time now, and as you can imagine, he is less than happy about that; lately he has been sending his underlings to try and throw us off.”

“And that rock will keep them away or something?”

“Unfortunately, no. However, if you hold it in your left hand and whisper my name, I will be able to find you no matter where you are in the universe. I urge you, though, to only use it in an emergency.”

As he spoke, the burrito slipped the cord over Sawyer’s head. They held the stone in their hand, running a thumb over its surface. It almost looked like something they could pick up in one of those weird new age shops.

“...Thanks. But how will I know it’s an emergency? What should I look for?” The way Three Meat made things sound, it was hard not to picture teams of ninja-like assassins.

“Anything strange or out of the ordinary.”

“Like the two of you?”

“Exactly!” Shadow chirped.

“The Greys thrive on mayhem and confusion, Sawyer-creature, and will do things as small as filling your shoes with something foul to things as dire as transforming people into bread, or unleashing terrible monsters on unsuspecting citizens. That is what makes them so insidious; their antics can begin in plain sight, but go unnoticed until the problem is too big to be contained.”

“That’s... horrifying,” Sawyer breathed.

“Indeed.”

“But they’re totally easy to spot, if you, like, know what to look for,” Shadow added. “I mean, we call them Greys because they’re grey. So like, even when they’re pretending to be something else, their colors are always wrong, like they’re not bright enough. And when they’re not pretending, they’re like even more obvious because they don’t even have faces! They try to hide it behind huge sunglasses, and the kicker is that it usually works! I guess most people are, like, too busy to look too closely at them or something, so they just scoot on past until they find someone to mess with.”

Under different circumstances, Sawyer would think a description like that was just somebody taking the mickey; Three Meat really had them going with the “mysterious forces of chaos” angle, but Shadow’s “they don’t have faces” bit was just too much. Then a flower on the other side of the clearing blinked an eye, and they decided the two of them were absolutely telling the truth.

“Right. Great. That’s lovely. Anything else I should know?”

“They can like, totally turn into this grody goo and slither through cracks between walls and floors and stuff, and they bleed black when you cut them. They also just kind of, like... melt away when they take too much damage? I’m not sure you can actually kill them.”

“Of course. That makes perfect sense,” they said dryly.

“There is a bit of a learning curve when the Greys are involved,” Three Meat admitted, “which is why we have offered our help, should you meet them. But let us hope Shadow-creature is wrong about your smell, and they leave you alone after all.”

Sawyer took one more look at the stone before tucking it under their shirt with a sigh; it seemed they now had yet another thing to worry about. They glanced around the strange, alien forest that the burrito called “Scotland”, and then at the burrito himself.

“...Can I go home now? Today has been just so many kinds of weird.”

“Of course, if you are sure you are ready. Do you have any more questions?” he asked.

Sawyer still had plenty of questions, but wasn’t so sure they could handle the answers—not without a hot meal and a good night’s sleep, at any rate. Besides, if they were lucky, they would never need to know the answers... right?

“I’m sure.”

“Then it shall be done.”

Three Meat slithered a few feet away. Once he had enough space, he reared up, his front end glowing with energy, and then slammed back down. Some debris was knocked off of him by the impact, and out from the shockwave opened a hole in thin air with that same laminated paper sound. Sawyer had had their eyes closed the first time, but was now able to appreciate how truly impressive it was as the edges of the hole glowed and crackled.

Through the hole they could see the street they had been walking on earlier. The sun had nearly set by now, and the frigid wind blew out of their familiar world and into the foreign one they were currently standing in.

“So... that’s it, then? I just go through?”

“Yes, Sawyer-creature. You just go through.”

“Oh. I sort of thought there would be more to it than that...”

“Not at all. Although if it were easy to do, then everyone would do it.”

“Yeah... no kidding. I suppose I’m off, then. Thanks for the rock. And the philosophy lesson. And for not killing me.”

“Any time, kid,” Shadow said with a grin. “Just, like, from now on, remember the first rule of adventuring; never pick up a strange dagger unless you know who it belongs to and what it does.”

“That’s the first rule of adventuring?”

“Well. That, or ‘don’t drink the weird glowing liquid’. Either way.”

For the first time since passing the gate, Sawyer laughed.

“I... guess I’ll see you. Or maybe not; I’ll probably be in trouble if I ever see you again, huh?”

“That is a fair assumption, Sawyer-creature. All the same... stay out of trouble. And farewell.”

“Yeah. Farewell, Three Meat. Shadow.”

They gave the pair an awkward wave, then turned and stepped through the portal and were met with the same odd sensation as before, as well as that battery taste. As they looked back over their shoulder, they saw that the portal was already closing.

“Oh, and Sawyer-creature? Do not bother telling anyone about us. Nobody will believe you.”

And with that, the hole in reality swirled shut like water spinning down a drainpipe. The cold wind blew, and this time, the rain came with it.

Typical, Sawyer thought as they once again brought their hood up over their ears and jammed a hand into their pocket. Their other hand reached up to the stone; a reminder that today had been exceedingly atypical. And as they thought about it, they found they were surprisingly okay with that.

This can go one of three ways, they reasoned. One, nothing happens and life goes back to normal. Two, you get taken out by some weird, grey chaos thing and you don’t have to worry about your bills anymore. Or three, that burrito comes back and you go on a crazy adventure, and you still don’t have to worry about your bills.

The way they saw it, there wasn’t exactly a downside. Well. Dying would be less than ideal, but what’s wrong with a little dark humor now and then?

They were thoroughly soaked by the time they got back to their apartment, but they didn’t really care; the plan was to change into pajamas, make some instant noodles for dinner, and go straight to bed anyway.

Sawyer did exactly that, feeling a little surprised at how... uneventful it all seemed compared to the rest of the day. They found themself half wishing they would turn around and see the burrito, or the cat, or even one of the mysterious Greys. As opposed to the idea as they had been initially, they were almost excited to think that such things could and did exist. Their imagination ran wild, like a little kid’s, and a couple times they thought that maybe the red kettle didn’t look as red as it should, or that perhaps the plant in the hall seemed almost sinister. Sawyer stopped themself just short of jamming their fork into the milk carton to see if the liquid ran black instead of white.

As they crawled into bed, they put the stone on their nightstand, rolling over to look at it once they had settled in beneath the covers. Part of them wanted to try it right now, to see if Three Meat would really come, but part of them felt like that would be... what? A breach of trust? Or at the very least a misuse of power. Then there was another part of them that felt childish for even believing it would work; for all they knew, the stone would be gone when they woke up the next morning.

The blankets were warm, however, and were simply perfect after walking home in the cold and wet, and the mattress was so soft on their aching muscles; they weren’t exactly used to running and jumping and being picked up. Soon, their thoughts became hazy and Sawyer drifted off to sleep, met with images of grinning cats and fashion-challenged burritos. The rain continued pounding outside, but Sawyer was safe and warm, even as the occasional flash of lightning lit up the night and washed everything in grey.

#Eldritch Burrito; Three Meat #What Do You Mean I'm A Protagonist???; Sawyer #Owl Witch's Grimoire; Drabbles #Chitchat Kitty Cat; Shadow

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bumblingbrujo · 6 years

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Blood Brothers

Miguel can only run from Lilo for so long.

@ianncardero, @lilo-el-lobo

Night was starting to fall again, but Miguel just couldn't bring himself to stay inside. There were plenty of people out there who needed help. And he could help. So he kept wandering, fresh out of potions, feeling all the tumultuous fear and confusion and rage that he tried to ignore or stuff down deep into his stomach. He knew at least a few people were safe at the Savin Estate, though he didn't know where Iann and Lilo were. Both worried him for very different reasons.

Lilo was ashamed and licking his wounds quite literally. The deep shame hanging on his shoulders wasn't over his actions, chasing friends, turning neighbors into enemies and prey; it was that he failed. He let them escape. If it wasn't for his damn leg he'd have the taste of fresh magic blood in his mouth, quench this painful need for destruction. His breath came heaving and strained as he pulled himself up and waited for the bruises to heal. Nose pointed in air, catching a hint of fear and familiarity he stalked out into the streets, keeping to the shadows and corners of alleys. Edging and silent as he looked for his prey.

Miguel didn’t have a course of action so much as restless legs. He walked, healing anyone he saw that needed help. Although there were more bodies than injuries. If this was a normal occurrence in Soapberry Springs then how did they keep the population up?

Lilo finally caught sight of what he wanted. Head lowering for his eyes to fixate on the prize, the man who blinded him. His brother, weak thing that he was, it was insulting the pitiful healing magic did so much to deter the predator. Now he'd get even. That meant ignoring the easy targets... or maybe they could prove to be useful.

It took only a few minutes for Lilo to find what he was looking for, someone injured unable to move but still conscious. They recoiled in horror as he came near. The werewolf held his finger to his lips and drug the wounded weakling into an alley before giving his final instructions. "Call out for help, wail and cry and whine you are injured but if you don't want to die, don't tell the healer I am here." Lilo slid to hide behind a dumpster that would mask his scent, not that Miguel could tell. Instinct was instinct, and the trap was set.

Miguel heard a cry and it sounded desperate. He ran toward the voice and found someone with a broken leg and a stomach fat too open. He knelt immediately and checked their insides for moisture. If they had been laying out there like for for too long... “Easy, easy, I’m a healer I’ll help you.”

The human whimpered, but out of fear kept from mentioning the werewolf that dragged them there. His eyes only widened as a hulking figure stepped out from it's hiding place. Creeping ever closer behind the preoccupied witch. Tears fell from the humans eyes as they continued to stare and try to work up the courage to say anything.

The fear in Miguel’s stomach bubbled up to his throat where he couldn’t fight it and he turned around, just a glance at first but that was enough. There was his monstrous brother, half transformed and angry. “Lilo-!” He skittered away from the injured man, he wished for a moment that he could help but the severed intestines spoke otherwise.

Lilo rumbled deep in his chest, what passed for laughter with the werewolf that was stuck halfway between animal and man. "Hey little brother." Lilo pressed in close, cutting off Miguel's potential exit. His head cocking to the side. "You look well."

Miguel's (metaphorical) hackles rose. "I'm older than you," he snapped. He was done with the warnings, Lilo had been tracking him, had set up a trap for him. Miguel didn't think there was much of sweet protective Lilo in there to reason with. So instead of trying to talk his hands lit up with the radiant fire and he grit his teeth.

Lilo tossed his head back, the rumble returning with little yipping gasps of air. He was having fun with this and it was terrifying. But he snapped to attention, jaw set and teeth bared. His claws dug into Miguel's shoulders, ignoring the fire that singed his fear. "You're still so tiny though. Hermano." He growled, snapping his jaws toward his pinned prey.

Iann couldn't stay up on the roof of Stonefruit with Wendy forever. He was getting antsy even up there, and listening to the groans and threats from the selkie was driving him nuts. He almost killed her, and that was when Iann knew he needed to get away from her. Making sure she was well-shaded and she'd been fed and taken care of between himself and Ruby, Iann then headed out. But this time, he didn't head out bare-handed. Despite Iann hardly if ever using weaponry in his life, Iann did gather a bunch of equipment from his basement, things he kept mostly for rituals and 'just in case' scenarios. For other people to use. For fighters to use, if needed. This time, Iann equipped himself. It didn't even take him long to find company though - in the form of his two apparent brothers. The yipping from Lilo was repulsive, horrifying, and yet Iann just snorted derisively at it. The wolf was going to kill the witch...and somehow Iann couldn't bring himself to care. This was Miguel's fault, after all. Miguel swept into town, some sort of mini-Iann, and proclaiming them all siblings. It made Iann sick to think about sharing blood with them.

Miguel winced and sent a shot of healing magic through his own shoulder, it dulled the pain and closed the wound as Miguel scampered away from Lilo. He couldn't get far. "We're both short. At least we usually are." He was starting to get tired, and the exhaustion pushed back the anger. "Lilo what the fuck are you doing? What would Addie think if she saw this?" He went back to the talking plan, if Lilo hadn't tried to kill him yet, maybe he could be reasoned with. Or maybe he was just playing with Miguel before killing him.

Lilo growled in a rage, his prey slipping from him again. He lumbered toward Miguel, not bothering to all out chase. His heavy muscled shoulders swinging as he lashed out. "Don't you talk. Stop." His claws aimed for his brother's throat. "Get my daughter's name out of your mouth." Reason was gone, as were any familial ties that had been so freshly woven between them. Miguel was enemy, prey, food. Lilo wanted no more twisty words or spells coming from the witch's mouth.

Miguel narrowly avoided getting his throat ripped out, but in the process he fell on his ass with a thud and a twist of pain through his spine. It would have been nothing if there wasn't a werewolf above him. He tried to muster the anger he needed for the fire, but all he had was fear. He felt like shaking apart, not like the divine witch he would need to be to keep doing radiant spells. "You stop! Why are you doing this? The moon? You're better than the moon Lilo!"

Iann came closer, almost eager to see what would happen. He didn't care if Lilo scented him, or if Miguel saw him. Unlike Iann normally, who balked at violence, Iann now looked hungry for it, eager to see it inflicted on others. Not River, she was already dead and there was nothing he could do about that now. But seeing the young selkie covered in blood - seeing that man with his guts hanging out, seeing all the death and destruction around him, Iann was completely desensitized to it. And he just wanted more. Also maybe to have sex in that gore, because that would be kind of hot in the dirtiest possible way.

Lilo growled in triumph. Falling upon Miguel, one hand out to pin him against the ground. "You don't really know me brother." He knelt, prosthetic splayed outward to the side. He lifted the other arm up so his sharp claws were illuminated by the red light of the moon. They were blood soaked and ready to be used again. "I've killed plenty before this moon hermano. I've tasted blood and loved it. Years I have forgot myself and it's only now that I remember what I am. I am a wolf." He breathed, face drawing close to Miguel's. "What are you?"

Miguel was vaguely aware that whatever came out of his mouth next may well be the last thing that came out of his mouth ever. It was a lot of pressure to come up with last words that might mean something. And even if they didn't mean anything now, they might mean something once the blood moon set and things went back to relative normal... when Lilo had enough functioning brain to think about what he'd done. He thought briefly about the obvious, which would be stating his witch-hood. Something that he didn't need to do when he lived the way he did. Instead he closed his eyes and sighed. "Soy tu hermano," he said softly before falling backward into acceptance and gritting his teeth, waiting for a lot of pain or oblivion.

Lilo howled, long and foreboding before it trailed off into a snarl. He bent his head down and down. Maw open and closing around Miguel's throat. It was like a perversion of a lover's kiss; out all the little love nips he peppered Cassie's neck with this felt far more satisfying. Sharp teeth drove into the skin, warm red blood bubbled up around the seal Lilo made with his mouth. He clamped down and tore, sinews and strings of the vocal chords ripped away. A stringy gorey mess as the raw wound filled with deep red blood. In the moonlight it all looked black.

#death cw #blood cw #violence cw #graphic descriptions cw #iann #lilo #chatzy

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tometender · 4 years

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https://tometender.blogspot.com/2020/11/i-angel-by-julie-light-blitz-and.html

I, Angel Julie Light (Angels in L.A., #1) Publication date: October 19th 2020 Genres: Adult, Urban Fantasy

I never asked to be an angel. Truthfully, being an angel kinda sucks.

But some angels don’t get harps. We hunt demons.

I might be a social weirdo. And okay, I black out whenever I fly and wake up naked in random places. I can only sleep in windowless rooms. I have that gun problem. Oh, and I can’t drink alcohol, since I randomly start fires.

But I, Dags Jourdain, do good. Sort of. I mean, I try.

When I’m not hunting demons, I work as a P.I. in Hollywood, California.

One night, I get in a demon fight in an alley, and accidentally save the life of a movie star, and everything changes for me.

Meanwhile, someone opened a hell portal under the Hollywood sign, a dead guy left me his dog, and a homicide detective who hates me from high school is trying to decide if I’m a serial killer.

Did I mention being an angel kinda sucks?

I, ANGEL is the first book in the Angels in L.A. series, a gritty angel urban fantasy, ideal for fans of K.F. Breene, Shayne Silvers, Patricia Briggs, C.N. Crawford, Linsey Hall

Goodreads / Amazon

—

Are you a book reviewer? Request a review copy here!

—

EXCERPT:

A dog’s wet, slobbery, warm tongue ran up the side of his face.

Dogs liked him. They liked him a lot.

Depending on the day, it was either a blessing or a curse.

In this particular instance, it probably saved his life.

“Pick up the gun, asshole!” the woman yelled. “I threw it right at you!”

Dags stared dazedly at the weapon as it swam into focus.

It lay on the asphalt, not far from the brick alley wall he now vaguely remembered slamming into, some unclear amount of time ago. He even remembered the specific gun.

Looking at it, he recoiled, grimacing involuntarily. His head felt like someone had taken a machete and tried to split his skull open like a cantaloupe, but he still had no desire to pick up the damned gun, much less point it at anyone.

Was that cannon really hers? Had she been lugging that thing around in her purse all this time? Did she have a permit for that thing? And if it was hers, why did she expect him, Dags, to be the one to shoot someone with it? Why didn’t she shoot them herself?

And where did the damned dog come from?

Even as he thought it, some other subset of his mind catalogued the gun in rote:

Desert Eagle. Gas-operated, rotating bolt. Semi-automatic. Designed by Magnum Research Inc. This particular edition was a Mark VII .357 Magnum with a fourteen-inch barrel, stainless steel, accessory mount with a laser scope.

That thing could do some serious damage.

All the more reason to leave it the hell alone.

“I don’t do guns,” he slurred, shoving it away.

It skittered across the alley floor, sliding under a dumpster about ten yards away.

Pushing aside the dog’s cold, wet nose, he scratched its ears out of habit even as he fought to push himself up with his hands.

“Are you crazy?” The woman stared at Dags like he’d just slapped her. Or maybe like he’d just told her he was a unicorn who only ate chocolate-covered strawberries and farted rainbows. “You’re a pacifist? Are you kidding me right now?”

Dags could sympathize.

Not enough to want to go after the gun, but yeah, he got it.

He only made it about halfway to his knees, when a heavy, booted foot connected, hard, with the small of his back. The same part of his mind that catalogued the gun did the same to the weight, shape, and relative precision of that booted foot––even as the blow knocked him forward, nearly face-planting him into the asphalt.

Male. Roughly six feet, two inches.

Two hundred and forty pounds.

Fighting ability: expert. At least one black belt in some martial art or another. Probably some military-style training. Weaknesses: Drops right arm when he pulls back from jabs. Telegraphs kicks with grunts and/or heavy breaths. Has a weird habit of grinning right before a lunge. Conclusion: well-trained, but a bizarrely sloppy fighter. Too used to winning maybe, or maybe it had been too long since he fought someone good enough to challenge him.

But all that was just details. The real issue with this guy wasn’t his fighting ability, or lack thereof, and Dags knew it. Hell, that’s why he was here, instead of calling 911 and letting the police handle it.

The guy wasn’t human. Well, he wasn’t only human.

He was something else.

The boot came down again, too hard for a human of that weight and strength.

Dags caught himself with his hands.

He remembered how he got himself into this situation now.

Unlike Dags’ usual m.o., where he followed people for weeks, making sure he knew exactly who they were, what they were, researching them, studying their habits, getting a feel for them, the likelihood they’d hurt someone, this guy, Dags had more or less caught in the act. He’d seen him drag the woman into a dark alley, like something out of an old detective movie.

He saw the guy’s aura.

He knew there was something wrong with it.

By then, the not-human attacker had a hand over the woman’s mouth.

Dags didn’t have time to involve the police, even if he’d wanted to.

He also didn’t have time to game this one out.

To make matters worse, the woman stuck around, even after he gave her an opening. Even after Dags told her to run.

She wouldn’t leave.

Why the hell wouldn’t she leave?

The guy got the jump on him, which didn’t help. Truthfully, that really threw Dags in the beginning of the fight, but somehow it didn’t bother him as much as the woman just standing there, watching him get his ass kicked.

Anyway, the other thing was Dags’ own fault.

He had the same weakness as the guy currently kicking him in the ribs. He’d gotten too cocky, too used to fighting people who were painfully easy to beat. He’d followed the guy into the alley without the slightest attempt to scope out the scene from a safer angle.

“Get up!” the woman yelled. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

Dags looked up at her in disbelief.

Seeing her standing there, against the opposite wall, which was covered, funnily enough, in an enormous pair of spray-painted angel wings, he scowled.

He waved a hand at her towards the mouth of the alley.

“Get out of here!” he snapped.

“Get off the ground!” she shot back. “Are you stupid?”

“Why are you yelling at me?” He motioned again with a jerk of his hand. “And why are you still here? RUN! Don’t just stand there like it’s reality t.v. Get your ass out of here! NOW.”

Hands on her hips, she frowned.

Under other circumstances, he might have laughed.

She looked like she was about to ask to speak to his manager.

Author Bio:

I write quirky, smart, conflicted, and unforgettable characters who live in realistically fantastical worlds. Many of those characters want redemption. A lot more want tacos, a margarita, and a beachy vacation with lots of sex. They all kind of hate me for never giving them enough of those things.

I write mostly in urban fantasy, paranormal romance, paranormal mystery, and supernatural suspense, and my books are chock full of love and magic, light versus dark, angsty, steamy romances, sharp dialogue, gritty worlds, and metaphysical and paranormal whatsits.

I've traveled a lot, lived in various funky places, but currently live and write full time in Los Angeles, California.

Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Instagram / Bookbub

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katrandomwrites · 7 years

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We Come At A Cost

me: Needs to write next chapters for other fic

me: Writes entirely different fic with similar premise

...nice

Read it on AO3

A vigilante by the name Soldier:76 has been working to clear the streets of Santa Fe of an invading gang from Mexico. It isn't until he does some major property damage that the police send and officer after him.

Gabriel has been given the job of taking out 76 on his terms. Taking up the identity of Reaper he chases down 76 in secret, hopefully Jack doesn't wonder where he is.

Reaper skidded back as another round of helix missiles took out the crates he’d been using as cover. He pivoted and sprinted down the alley with the sounds of reinforced boots chasing him.

In the hunt for the notorious anti-hero, Soldier:76, Officer Reyes agreed to take up an alter ego to help draw the other man out. It had taken weeks of work and staged robberies before the ruse had finally bore fruit, hence the current chase through the alleyways.

Soldier:76 had popped up in Santa Fe nearly two years ago as a solo vigilante locked in an uphill battle with the Los Muertos who had been trying to establish themselves in the US with the help of the Deadlock Rebels. Police had been given numerous descriptions and tips from numerous citizens throughout the city of 76 fighting the intruding gang but none were every quick enough to help catch the man.

Many of the officers hadn’t seen a point in chasing the man down, in fact many claimed he was doing a better job of controlling the gang activity than what the department could ever hope to achieve while still functioning within the law. It wasn’t until 76 brought down an entire apartment building that they started to put up an effort in hunting him.

Now Reyes had the menace, or rather, 76 had him. The pair had been locked in battle for close to a half hour with Reyes on the losing side, officers had been stationed across from where the original staged event had occurred but by some unforeseen trick, 76 had managed to get him far from the original area.

“Don’t you even get tired?” Reaper demanded as he dodged another volley of pulse munitions.

“Not when I have my target still in my sights,” the vigilante growled, strafing to the left to avoid the shotgun pellets loosely aimed back at him.

Reaper glanced back and stopped abruptly in the slightly narrower alley they’d entered, 76 had gotten close enough that the sudden stop sent him stumbling behind a dumpster but not before he caught a shell in the side.

Officer Reyes was a transfer from a very corrupt department in the LA area, he and his family had sold everything and moved after a not so subtle threat from his department lead. Not wanting to risk the lives of his husband and their adopted daughter, he had put in for a transfer and was placed several states away.

Jack had been fine with it, all he had to do was file five stacks of paperwork and do a lot of reorganizing to move his law firm to a new location. Having a rich and smart hubby with his own business had more perks than Gabriel had ever thought possible. It was definitely worth all the Spanish lessons that Jack had begged for.

The biggest challenge at this point was getting out of here alive. The mission had been very confidential and it absolutely killed him that he couldn’t vent to his own husband about how annoying it was chasing some white dude with a military fetish around the city while wearing too much leather. He was sure Jack would appreciate it considering their own ties to the Marines and Navy which had led to them meeting in the first place.

It also didn’t help that Jack worked with many of 76’s victims, younger boys who grew up in such horrible poverty that they had never seen a choice in joining a gang. Jack had been determined to get them the help and care they needed to recover both from the damage 76 had inflicted and the damaged the system had been doing to them for years.

Reaper ominously glided over to the spot 76 had disappeared to, sure enough the man was tucked into a corner applying pressure the gushing wound in his side. Jack would probably be happy to have his case load lightened once 76 was behind bars.

“Still having fun?” Reaper hissed, the vocal modifiers in his mask made the sound reverb in the tight space.

76 looked up and cocked his head before swiftly bringing his foot up into Reaper’s chin. Reaper spit curses as he grabbed his mask before it could actually come off.

“Eat shit,” 76 growled even as he curled tighter into himself. The bravado he usually had was quickly fading.

“Not likely, asshole, your time is up. It’s your turn to live a comfy life behind bars, hope you know a good lawyer.”

Soldier:76 flinched hard at that and then even harder as Reaper’s gauntlet made contact with his face and sent the mask and visor he wore skittering across the gravel. A look of absolute horror worked its way onto his face.

Reaper gripped 76’s chin and forced the vigilante to look at him only to be met with the tired blue eyes of his own husband. He froze in shock and didn’t move even as 76 tore his face from Reaper’s hands and shuffled deeper into the corner.

Ice worked its way through his veins as regret, betrayal, and confusion opened a chasm in his chest. He’d just shot his husband. His husband tried to shoot him. Why was Jack running around shooting gang members?

Thoughts raced through Gabriel’s head as he tried to figure out what he’d missed. Jack wasn’t overly combative, he’d spent years in the Navy but, as far as Gabriel knew, Jack hadn’t seen much action. In fact, one of the biggest reasons they had gotten together was the fact that Jack was such a calm and forgiving person.

Reaper looked at the man in front of him. 76 was most definitely not calm, the man’s face was contorted in pain and yet he still managed to look savage and ruthless. His eyes flicked back and forth as if he were trying to figure out how to escape even with a hole in his side.

And then it clicked.

Jack did that during their arguments when he wanted out. If he was going after a case and could see how to win he wouldn’t rest till it was done. The lack of contact the last few months wasn’t because Gabriel was busy, it was because Jack wasn’t around.

“The great defense attorney, Jack Morrison, is out playing vigilante,” Reaper growled, anger starting to burn in his voice. Jack had been laying to him for two goddamn years, “You like beating the shit out of kids now?”

76’s head snapped up and he gave a feral growl, “Those things aren’t kids. They’re no better than animals tearing through the gutters of this city spreading disease.”

Reaper barely managed to catch 76’s fist before it made contact. The sudden power and animosity in Jack’s face was something Gabriel had never seen before.

“They do nothing spread their beliefs through the slums to kids who feel like they have nowhere to go. They give them a false solution to their problems,” 76 snapped before swiftly kicking Reaper in the chest causing the other to fall on his back before 76 stood up, “Do you think I like shooting fucking children? At least I’ve been trying to do something useful unlike those idiots in the police department.”

Gabriel pushed himself up from the ground and stalked towards the shaky vigilante, “It’s their job not yours, no matter what you think. Besides, what happens now that you’ve been caught? What happens to your family or do you even care?”

Reaper almost wasn’t fast enough to dodge the pulse fire as 76 snapped. He turned to fire back when the fire escape above him was shot down and pinned him to the ground.

“If I quit now I won’t have a family to go back to,” Jack growled as he limped closer, the side of his jacket was stained completely red with blood, “They want to take my daughter, but they can’t have her.”

The seriousness of the situation was suffocating as Gabriel took in the fact that the Los Muertos were trying to get a hold of Sombra, his baby girl. She was a genius in every respect, she could hack and program faster than anyone he knew plus she could outsmart even the SWAT team’s captain in tactics.

An explosion erupted behind them, igniting the piles of garbage surrounding the pair. Two young boys, no older than 15, in ragged t-shirts and body paint strolled nonchalantly around the corner.

76 turned his face away from them and glared down at Reaper.

“If you want me so bad you can drag my corpse back for your reward,” he spit before turning running towards the boys and firing.

Gabriel could only watch as another grenade came flying towards them, he realized that both of them dying was a distinct possibility. That is, until Jack caught the projectile midair and flung it back at their assailants.

The explosion was blinding. Once the chaos died down, Gabriel worked his way out from under the fire escape and surveyed the damage.

The kids seemed to have gotten away but Jack was lying unconscious in a pool of his own blood. Gabriel scrambled over to him and checked his pulse before sitting back on his heels and deciding his next move.

If he turned Jack in it would ruin him, even as pissed as he was about Jack being out here he still loved the idiot with all his heart. Hell, if Gabriel was being honest with himself the fact that Jack cared enough to put himself at risk to help those who needed it from both sides while protecting his family in the process made him almost proud, but mostly pissed.

Gabriel sighed and made his decision. Carefully, he stripped Jack of everything that made him 76 and tossed in into the trash that was still raging next to them before gently picking him up. The hospital didn’t question them man in black as they whisked Jack off to surgery.

He went home, changed, and waited for the call. Nearly an hour later he and Sombra were at the hospital to see Jack who had been brought in after being brutally attacked coming home from a late night at the office. Sombra curled into his good side and fell asleep while Gabriel held his hand. Jack hadn’t woken up yet and the staff wasn’t sure when he would finally open his eyes but Gabe wasn’t worried.

Carefully, Gabe stood and leaned over the bed to place a kiss to Jack’s forehead. He studied every familiar wrinkle, curve, and dip in his face and smiled.

They would be okay.

#r76 #reaper76 #morreyeson #Jack Morrison #gabriel reyes #vigilante!AU #overwatch #fanfic #whispers from the scrapheap #my writing

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