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heliads · 4 years

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Some Things Have To Be Said (Part Three)

When S.H.I.E.L.D. agent Y/N L/N is called to the S.W.O.R.D. encampment outside Westview because of her history working alongside Wanda Maximoff, she’ll have to face her past with Wanda and even a confrontation with the woman she loved.

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You can only stare at her. Your blood feels like it’s freezing in your veins, slowing to a stop. The world crashes to a halt around you. After a long moment, you’re able to claw up the strength to form a single word. “What?” Wanda’s gaze doesn’t break. “Who are you?” She repeats, and the question still burns just as deep the second time.

“You don’t- you don’t know me?” Wanda shakes her head, the movement slow and unflinching. “Should I?” You blink, trying to regain any sense of clarity. “Yes. No. You did, once.” Wanda’s emotionless mask flinches once, and she tilts her head slightly to the side to consider you. “I did, didn’t I?” She looks deeply into your eyes, and you have that same sense of overwhelming scrutiny that you had felt before. Wanda must be reading your mind, but there seems to be something blocking her from looking too deeply, because she looks away after barely a moment has gone by.

“L/N. Agent L/N. If you’re with the government, why don’t I feel afraid of you? Something is telling me to trust you, but I don’t know why.” You feel a bitter smile creep onto your cheeks, lips tugged up at the sides. “It’s because I loved you.” Wanda nods once. “And me? Did I feel the same way about you?” You force yourself to keep a calm face, to not break down. “I don’t know. That’s why I came, to find out.”

Wanda furrows her brow. “Y/N. Your name was Y/N.” You incline your head. “We met a while back. I don’t know why you can’t remember me.” Wanda seems about to answer you, but then you hear the sound of shouting from across the town. It sounds like the cries of two young boys, and you realize it must be Wanda’s children.

Wanda appears to have come to the same conclusion and seems drawn towards the sound, but she forces herself to turn back to you, as if held in place by some anchor tying her to you. “I have to go.” You nod once. “I know. It’s alright.” Wanda’s eyes flicker up to you, and she places her palm lightly against your cheek. It barely touches you, but the sensation of her so close to you is spellbinding. “You need to be careful. There’s a woman here, Agatha. I don’t want you to get hurt.” You let your hand come to rest against hers, contact for just a second. “I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me.”

Wanda nods, takes in one quiet breath. “I’ll come back, Y/N. I promise.” You try for a smile. “I know you will.” Wanda hesitates one last second, as if drinking in the sight of you, then she finally pulls her hand away and hurries off down the sidewalk to help her children.

You’re left standing there, your own hand unconsciously rising to where hers had just left you. Your fingers feel cool against your cheek. Out of nowhere, a woman appears in the middle of the street, and walks until she’s shoulder to shoulder with you, both of you watching the place where Wanda had just been. You speak first. “You must be Agatha.” The woman leers at you, and you realize she was the strange neighbour from before, the one who had known your name.

Agatha’s voice is colder now that she’s dispensed with the ‘happy neighbour’ attitude. “And you’re Agent Y/N L/N of S.H.I.E.L.D. Don’t take Wanda’s lack of memory too personally, I’m afraid that was my fault. I needed her to completely fall apart so I could take her powers, and I knew she wouldn’t crumble as easily if she knew she had someone else waiting for her who wouldn’t vanish when her little suburban dream disappeared.”

You cut a glance over to Agatha. “So you took her memories of me?” She nods, shoulders lifting in triumph. “Had to be done. I’d tell you not to worry because the memories might come back, but I’m not even sure that will happen.” Agatha claps her hands together, suddenly purposeful. “Well, I’m off to rain destruction on your little friend. Stay out of my way, sweetie, or you’ll find yourself in more trouble than you can handle.” The words, spoken so carelessly, carry a far deeper threat than the seemingly innocent words would otherwise show.

In a heartbeat, Agatha vanishes, and you’re alone on the street once more. You glance around you at the houses nearby, and realize with a dull panic that Monica was supposed to be checking out Agatha’s house to find Wanda. Surely she would have heard the voices and come out, right? When you check around, you can’t find Monica anywhere, so you decide to enter Agatha’s house and try to find your friend. If you can’t help Wanda right now, you can at least try to get Monica out of Agatha’s control.

The door to Agatha’s house is unlocked, and you can hear a vague commotion going on upstairs. When you make your way up a flight of stairs and down a hall, you pause by a door leading to a bedroom. You can hear Monica’s voice coming from inside, so you try the doorknob but find it locked. From inside the room comes the sound of someone panicking, and they seem to be begging for their life. That does it- you back up a little, then run at the door and kick it down. Monica looks up at the sound of the door splintering open, and you find that she’s not alone- there’s another boy there, who looks like the new Pietro casting on Wanda’s show.

You raise an eyebrow. “Well, I was ready to join in the fight but it doesn’t look like you’ll be needing my help. Who’s he?” Monica gives one last look to the boy on the ground. “Ralph, apparently. I think Agatha put him under mind control to make him act like he was Wanda’s twin brother. Easier to recast than bring someone back from the dead.” You shrug. “I can’t argue with that logic. You want to come to the town center? I think some big fight is going on between Wanda and Agatha.”

Monica nods, and the two of you leave Agatha’s house, heading quickly towards the center of town. Sure enough, you see Wanda and Agatha hovering in the sky, exchanging blasts of magical energy. You also see Hayward and his S.W.O.R.D. reinforcements arriving to the scene, and tap Monica on the shoulder to point them out. “You see that? He’s still gunning for Wanda even though it’s obvious she’s not the villain anymore.” Monica frowns in determination. “He’s got a bigger hand in this than he’s letting on. Are you ready to help defend Wanda and her kids?” You grin, reaching for the gun at your belt. “I thought you’d never ask.”

At last, after days of research and planning and mind control, you’re finally back in your element. As Hayward’s reinforcements pour out of their armored vehicles, you take them down one by one, moving with the methodical grace of someone who was practically born for combat. It feels so freeing to be able to finally push everything out of your mind and just take down everyone in your path. A large part of your S.H.I.E.L.D. training was combat, so it’s nice to use that familiar skill set again.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Hayward training a gun at Billy and Tommy, Wanda’s kids. Your eyes go wide as you realize he’s prepared to shoot, and even as you race towards him, desperate to stop this, you already know you’re arriving too late. Luckily, Monica is there just in time, and stands in front of the boys to protect them from the bullets. To your shock, Hayward still fires, but the bullets pass harmlessly through Monica and fall to the ground.

Hayward seems just as surprised as you are, and races into an armored vehicle in an attempt to ram the twins and Monica. Just as he’s flooring the gas, though, a food truck of all things hurtles into the vehicle, crashing into it in a flurry of sparks and twisting metal. You realize with a grin that it was driven by Darcy, and sigh in relief to realize that your friend is alright.

You hurry over to Monica. “Okay, I knew about the glowing eyes, but the bullet trick was new. Very cool and very dangerous.” Monica purses her lips in thought, but she looks exhilarated by her new powers. “I know about the dangerous, but I’m not so sure about the other part.” You toss her a grin. “I’ve worked with the Avengers for a while, and I’ve seen a lot of powers. Trust me, that was very cool.” Monica laughs at that. “It is, isn’t it?”

You look up to see Wanda floating out of the sky towards her children, and turn away hurriedly, distracting yourself by running checks on your weapon so that Wanda won’t see you. Monica frowns at you. “Y/N, when I got my powers I could see into Wanda’s head for a little bit. I know she loves you, and I know how you feel about her. Why are you trying to hide from her?”

You look back at the retreating figures of Wanda, Vision, and the twins. “She only has so much time left with this family, I don’t want to mar any of it with thoughts of others.” Monica follows your gaze, watching them leave. “Does it hurt to see her with them?” You sigh quietly. “Yes and no. It hurt more before, but I know that I’ll be able to be with her again once she lets them go. I want her to have as much time with them as possible.” Monica nods, and puts a hand on your shoulder in comfort. “If you need anyone, you know you’ve got me, right?” You smile back at her. “I do. Thank you, Monica.”

A woman in a black suit comes up to Monica, asking for a word in private. Monica nods, then turns back to you. Both of you know that this is goodbye, that you won’t be meeting up again today, or even for a while. Your eyes warm as you take in the sight of your friend. “I’ll see you again soon. I have no doubt of that.” Monica smiles at you. “Good luck, Y/N. I hope you can make things work with her.” You nod goodbye, then she turns and walks away, following the woman into a movie theatre. You slip away from the crowd of agents, walking briskly into the fading light.

Wanda Maximoff is striding purposefully down the streets of Westview. She’s almost on the outskirts of town when she notices the parked car waiting at the far edge. A woman is leaning up against the car, staring up at the sky, although she straightens once she notices Wanda approach. “Need a lift?” Wanda’s eyes widen as she recognizes the woman. “Y/N?” She hurries over, wraps her arms around the other woman. Although Y/N has had years of training on managing her emotions, she still freezes slightly, surprised at the sudden contact.

Then a smile appears on her face. “You remember me?” Wanda nods. “I remember everything. Agatha’s spell fell apart once I took care of her.” Y/N nods, a warm happiness glowing in her eyes. “I knew you would.” Wanda looks over at her, face falling. “Y/N, about everything, I-” Y/N holds up a hand, cutting her off. “You don’t have to explain. I know. I’m just glad that you came back.” Wanda reaches out, takes Y/N’s hand. She stares at it for a second before finding the strength to continue speaking. “I knew I would, eventually. I don’t think I could ever really leave you.” Her voice falters for a second. “I love you, Y/N. I wish I told you that before.”

Y/N’s face lights up at that, even as she struggles to keep her emotions under control. “I love you too. Always have and always will.” Wanda runs her finger over Y/N’s knuckles absentmindedly, fingers trailing over the faded scars that line her palm. “Thank you for waiting.” Y/N inclines her head at that, then gestures towards the car. “Are you ready to leave?” Wanda takes one last look at the town of Westview, then opens the door and slides into the passenger seat. Y/N crosses around the front of the car, and Wanda watches as she swings her legs over into the driver’s side chair. They lock eyes for a second, both closer than they ever have been, and then Y/N speaks at last. “So, where to?” Wanda looks back over the road before them, eyes trained not on the town behind them but the journey ahead. “Home.”

Wanda is sitting on the porch of a cabin in the woods, dressed in a simple gray. The piercing whistle of a kettle echoes through the open door, and she stands to pour herself a cup. Wanda glances at a dusty clock resting on the mantle, then gestures lazily with a free hand. A portal appears in the space next to her, scarlet sparks flying off into nothingness. A woman in a black suit walks through the portal, trading the tall buildings behind her for the quiet of the cabin. A label is stitched in white over her coat pocket: S.W.O.R.D. Director L/N. A promotion after the success of a recent job.

Wanda smiles at Y/N, handing her a cup of tea. “How was work?” Y/N takes a sip of the beverage, savoring the warmth. “Pretty good. Only a couple of new crises, but it’s nothing we can’t handle.” She gestures with her chin towards the corner of the room, where a strange energy seems to hover in the air despite nothing being there to conduct it. “Have you learned anything new?” Wanda grins, a faint aura of power tugging at her lips. “You have no idea.”

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anigerrrr · 3 years

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Just a friend from work

Natasha Romanoff x Carol Danvers

Word count: 1.5k

Summary: Natasha doesn’t think that she’s dating the blonde woman, and they certainly shouldn’t as well. It’s not professional.

Warning: Protective Yelena, sister conversations, Captain’s bad acting

(please let me know if there’s any I should add as well)

a/n: Hello! This is my first fanfic written in English for carolnat, and I just love them so much. English is not my mother language so please ignore my grammatical errors lol ! Please do comment if you have any thoughts or questions!

“So, how old is he?”

“Who?”

“That guy you’re dating.”

When Yelena started it - whatever it is, the redhead immediately made a full stop for this upcoming conversation.

“No,” Natasha said, half jaded from today’s mission. “Yelena, I already said that we are not gonna talk about this. Not now.”

“Excuse me, you almost got caught in the middle of the frickin’ building just for replying to someone's text.” Her sister’s brown eyes widened in disbelief, “and as your partner, little sister plus, I think I have a full right to know what’s happening.”

Ok, after all of the universal matters. The Snap, The Blip, The Endgame and The Reunion. Natasha let out a sigh. This world may be peaceful enough - almost too peaceful, for her younger sister to dig into her personal life now.

“It was something important from the HQ, ” she finally made something up, trying to convince Yelena. “Some information. Not anyone I’m dating, and I’m not seeing any single guy either.”

This part was sort of a truth.

Natasha wasn’t seeing a guy.

/ Coming back to earth in an hour. - C. /

That’s the reason she punched the bad guys in extra strength today, almost ruining Yelena’s nose as well in some kind of jump-scare situation. Well, Natasha just needed to end this mission. Efficiently.

She’s expecting a woman with glowing fists.

“You may be the top assassin with excellent lying skills, but you know it’s useless to me.” Yelena teased in a raspy Russian accent, as if she just couldn’t let go of it.

“I’ll take the compliment.”

“And does that mean you’re actually lying to me?”

Natasha smirked, taking off her suit as she replied to the blonde. “You’re less annoying when you’re still a little girl.”

She tried to pretend nothing actually happened in this present, and that’s what she should do for sure. She’s still an Avenger, reborn in the mysterious deal between Captain Marvel and the Soul Stone keeper after the war.

Carol was there, shining like stars in the darkest underground. Vormir was a place of exchange, a place where only sacrifice made deals. But when it was about Carol, nothing seemed impossible to make a miracle in her hands.

-It was easy, you know. I just asked him to return what we had left in that shit place.

-Yeah, I asked him nicely. See this smile? That’s how I got Nat back.

No one believed this story. It didn’t matter anyway, especially when these avengers witnessed Natasha taken back by Carol without any visible injuries.

Maybe just like how she found Tony and took him back at an unbelievable speed, there’s something always mysterious with Carol.

They supposed.

“If you’re taking good care of yourself as Fanny is, I wouldn’t have asked.” Yelena rolled her eyes, and suddenly she saw something unusual on her sister’s back.

“Wait, Natasha. What is that?” As Yelena leaned closer, she narrowed her brown eyes to observe the unusual mark left on Natasha’s back. “It looks like a bite. Oh my God, are you turning into a vampire or something? “

She realized that maybe Yelena didn’t know what love marks were. As far as she knew, her younger sister hadn’t dated anyone since the collapse of the red room.

“There’s no bite, Yelena. You’re exaggerating, it’s probably just a scratch from the fight.” Natasha pulled down her black tank top, adding an extra leather jacket she didn’t usually wear.

There’s a bite.

And it took all her efforts to stay impeccable in front of her sister every time she felt it burning silently, especially after taking a shower or punching someone really hard.

Carol did that.

“Alright then, time for dinner?” Yelena shrugged, putting her oversized hoodie on.

“Yeah, sure.” Natasha didn’t catch the full sentence from her partner-sister honestly, she focused more on the communicator that she’s been carrying all the time.

“Speaking of that…Mom - I mean, Melina. Anyway, she asked if we’d be free to show up for dinner next week.” Yelena said, pulling out her phone from the pocket as well. “I think Friday will be good, how do you think?”

/ Let’s catch up in the compound later, I need to take a really quick shower. - C. /

“Yeah, that’d be amazing…wait, what?” Natasha raised her head up and seized the blonde’s eyes, “I’m sorry, what was the question?”

/ In case you wanna know, I look like a total mess in purple blood now. They didn’t even act like living spices, what a day. - C. /

Natasha stopped, and smiled a bit for imagining the blonde woman’s messy look now.

She didn’t reply a single word to these texts, but it kept coming up. It’s just like Carol knew that she’d always read them as soon as they were delivered.

“Ok, that’s rude.” And her sister finally couldn’t take it any longer. “Admit it, Natasha. You’re apparently disturbed by someone that you don’t wanna tell me, why is that?”

Then, Natasha realized that Yelena was still standing in front of her the whole time. She didn’t pay attention to anything this young woman said about free or show. Or dinner.

Fantastic.

“I’m dealing with something important,” walking together out of their changing room, Natasha answered softly. She’s hiding her vague feelings of guilt. “- from work.”

“Natasha, we’re working together.”

“Ugh, that’s different. That’s…” As Natasha tried to come up with something more persuasive, her younger sister stopped and nodded to someone.

“Oh, hey.” Yelena took a step back, and she seemed a little nervous. “Cap, we didn’t know you’re coming back today.”

When Natasha met the other blonde woman’s eyes, she found Carol’s hair still dripping. Ok, that’s definitely how a quick shower should be called.

“I left a message to Agent Romanoff.” Carol showed her audacity in acting surprised just right in front of the perfectly trained assassins. “Oh Romanoff, I was looking for you. Lucky me.”

“The mission I mentioned last night, remember that? It went a little bit wrong now.”

To Natasha’s surprise, her sister showed concern on her profile. “Is everything alright?”

Wait, Yelena could tell if she’s lying easily but actually believed in Carol’s almost-too-obvious acting?

“It will be,” Carol smiled back, taking a step in to pat Natasha’s left shoulder. “I just need to borrow your sister for a few minutes - hours, if you don’t mind?”

“Oh, that’s fine. She’s not actually paying attention to me anyway.” Yelena raised her eyebrow, adding a friendly suggestion to her Captain. “Just don’t let her suspicious friend bother her via texts during the mission.”

“Ha, that’s mature.” Natasha couldn’t help but roll her eyes back again, she knew Carol was trying to not let out a laugh. This woman is literally shining right now.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, totally.” Carol winked in a way that Natasha suspected she'd done this a thousand times.

“See you later then, young lady.”

When they left the compound, Natasha shut the door of the training room and almost hit the blonde’s pretty nose.

“Are you fucking serious?” Natasha said as soon as there’s no one else between them.

“You are wearing my jacket.” Carol just smirked happily, admiring how well it fit the redhead. “It looks cute on you, just keep it for me. Will you?”

Something did go wrong, between these two deadly women.

Any one in the galaxy would say it's very hard for Carol to stay in one place for a long time. But she did, she stayed on earth for almost a week, once a month.

And any one in the Avengers’ HQ would say it’s very hard for Natasha to be disturbed by anything or anyone. Even so, she would not show it on her expression even a tiny bit.

That’s just not her thing.

Like dating someone, or texting someone back. Or admit that she’s caring for the blonde ones, not just her younger sister.

But they did have sex (well it was amazing), twice. Ugh, maybe three times, if the very first time on Carol’s spaceship counted.

That’s all, it's a healthy relationship between adults.

It sounds professional.

“You should stop texting me while we’re at working hours.” Natasha sighed.

“Wait,” Carol chuckled, her hair color looked darker when it’s wet. “Do we actually have ‘working hours’ in this job? I mean, when is it not ?”

“When we’re not on a mission.”

“But how do I know- ”

“You’re the Captain, Carol.”

“Oh,” Carol finally agreed with a small smile. “That makes sense.”

Every time. Natasha looked at her and thought. Every time she called her name, not Danvers or Captain, just Carol. The smile just came up like that, like nothing else in this world was more delightful than hearing Natasha say her five-letters name.

It’s silly, unprofessional.

But Natasha did that, once in a while.

“So,” Carol tilted her head slightly, and acted that she’s way more harmless than having power to blast spaceships in a single fist. “What’s the plan for dinner?”

“You’re gonna stay that much longer, Captain?” Natasha teased when she finally felt something was in control, by her. Carol’s thoughts were easy to be studied, or at least she gave in for her.

Carol hummed in a way that Natasha could tell she’s triggered, and dragged her leather jacket’s collar to lean in.

“Depends on what you’re offering me to eat, ma’am.”

#carol danvers x natasha romanoff #carol danvers #natasha romanoff #yelena belova #black widow #captain marvel #carolnat

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thisisawonderfulusername · 4 years

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almost normal

five hargreeves x reader

summary: when you get stuck in the apocalypse, you try to make life as normal as possible before you can make it back to your time

warnings: drinking, baby (i hate babies eww), cursing, flufffffff

word count: 2.5k

a/n: this idea buried itself in my head and i’m glad people are interested in reading it :D they are a bit younger when they return to 2019, and i also didn’t know how to end it. enjoy! side ramble: while i was editing the first few paragraphs, i realized, wouldn’t more people with powers have survived the apocalypse? like, we don’t know what other powers there are, but surely there were some invincible folks or people who could somehow avoid being blasted. or maybe there were but they didn’t survive long enough for five to stumble upon them. anyways, ramble over, you can read now 😂

being the daughter of two people spontaneously born on the first of october in nineteen eighty-nine, you had been gifted with special abilities, just like them. they were able to teach you how to control it fully, and by the time you were thirteen, you were able to create an invisible barrier around yourself at will. at times, though, it still appeared on it’s own.

one of those times, it protected you at the end of the world. how you wished it hadn’t for the first few years. but you surprisingly weren’t the last person on the face of the earth.

you stood on the doorstep of your home- or what used to be your home. it had crumbled to the ground when the explosion wiped out the entire city, leaving a pile of rubble. it was surrounded by the other houses in the neighborhood, some of which still stood as the flames continued to burn.

this isn’t real.

you pinch your arm so hard that it stings for a few moments afterward, and you start shaking your head. “this isn’t real.” you tell yourself, voice shaking with the fear that this might not be a nightmare.

stepping back from your home, you turned on your heel to run to the closest house that hadn’t collapsed yet. mr and mrs peoples. you didn’t knock, bursting through the front door and rushing through each room that fire was beginning to engulf, searching for any sign of the old couple.

when you got up the stairs and to their room, you stopped dead in your tracks. on the bed, their charred bodies lay next to each other, and you feel your eyes beginning to sting- from the smoke and from what was happening.

the city.

there must be people in the city.

you dash down the stairs before they can collapse, sprinting out of the house and down the road as fast as you can. the route you’ve remembered from walking to school, the one that brought you through the crowded sidewalks.

by the time you get to the most populated part of the whole town you lived in, you’re out of breath, chest rising and falling quickly.

“help!” you shout as loud as you can, starting to walk through the streets, trying not to focus on the buildings that hadn’t made it. “please! there has to be someone.” the tears that had threatened you began to fall, running down your cheeks.

when you get farther down, you see what you think is a real, live person, searching the rubble surrounding him. but you can’t be sure. there’s smoke and your vision is blurry from your tears. “hey!” you shout, beginning to run towards the figure as fast as you can with your labored breathing.

he turns in your direction when he hears your voice, eyebrows raising in surprise. when you stop just before what used to be a building. “please-” you suck in a breath, “please tell me you’re real.”

he was the only reason you managed to survive. you knew now that you would never had made it this far without him.

ten years.

you’ve made it ten years so far, and the only reason the both of you keep going is each other- as well as his hope to find the right equation to get them back to their normal lives in twenty nineteen (and saving the world but that could be discussed later.)

until then, you could try your very best to make an almost normal life for yourselves.

after the first few years of moving across the city- and probably into other states as well, you couldn’t tell for sure- you had grown to have feelings for him. you didn’t know if it was because you two were the only ones left on earth, but you didn’t care. you wouldn’t want to choose anyone else to survive with.

eventually, after a few drinks to celebrate the finding of some wine, when your face was flushed with the alcohol in your system and your brain slightly fuzzy, you ended up kissing him.

the next morning, you woke up cuddled next to him, the empty bottle to your side. it brought butterflies to your stomach, and when he woke up after you, you had summoned the courage to tell him how you felt. you were lucky enough to know that he returned the affection.

you were nineteen then, only six years after the end of the world. and for another four years, you had been together.

on the third year of being together, pushing for survival, you found an old jewelry store.

you looked at the destroyed display cases, glass shattered and a few of them sinking to the ground. what this store looked like before the explosion, you didn’t know, but you could tell it’s purpose.

as you stepped over some fallen bricks, you look at the rotted wooden table that had once been surrounded by glass to keep people from attempting to steal what was inside.

there was surprisingly still jewelry left, some scattered across the ground and others that had managed to keep their place on display.

among the pieces, you see something shine in the sun light, buried in the bricks and dirt. after picking them up and brushing it off, you could see what the two pieces were. they were matching, two wedding bands in a smooth golden color. smiling, you stared at them for a moment.

looking up, your gaze traveled over the surrounding fallen buildings, before falling upon the man you were looking for, who searched for any food that may be buried somewhere nearby in the stone and brick nearby.

stepping over the bricks and onto the slightly cleaner streets that many people used to roam, you made your way to to where he searched.

you stayed on the street in front of the bricks that had somehow stayed in formation, creating some sort of a half-wall, watching him for a moment before glancing at the two rings in your hand.

“do you want to get married?” you call out, eyes squinted slightly from the sunlight and the strain to see him properly.

he turned at your voice, brushing his hands off on his pants. “what?”

grinning, you step over the wall. “i said,” you stop in front of him and reveal the bands, “do you want to get married?”

his eyes fall on the rings and he stays quiet for a moment, before he looks back to you, and your smile grows at the sight of his own.

“in the apocalypse?" he chuckles softly.

you shrug your shoulders. "we can't make it, like, official, but if we ever get back..." you press your lips together for a moment, "i think it'll have more meaning, since we found them here."

he seems to think about it for a moment, before he holds his hand out to you, and you clap your hands together from the joy you felt.

when you got stuck here at thirteen years old, you didn't think you'd have anything close to a normal life. but after a few years, you realized that you could try to make it as normal as possible for yourself.

you slide one of the rings onto his finger, the sun's light reflecting off of the gold. it's a silent moment, and you could feel your heart beating faster than usual.

once it is snug on his finger, he takes the other from you, taking your hand. "i never thought i'd be getting married in a wasteland."

chuckling, you watch as he gently puts the ring in it's rightful place. "i don't care where we get married. it would be perfect no matter what."

five looks into your eyes, and you know that you wouldn't have this any other way. as long as he was with you, you don't care where you are or what the situation is.

"i love you." you mumble quietly, bringing your hand to his cheek as you stare into his eyes.

"i guess i love you too."

you roll your eyes, moving the hand behind his neck to pull him into a loving kiss.

that’s what brought you to having with a giant bump in your belly.

what a great time to be pregnant, right?

when you found out (which took a while- you couldn’t really find any pregnancy tests and if you did you thought it was just some sickness and wouldn’t grab any), it was quite the surprise. you were terrified- who wouldn’t be?

how the hell are you going to have a baby in this world? there are so many things to think about.

like when the time finally comes for you to burst, what will you do? neither you or five had ever had a baby- you were thirteen when your normal life ended! no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t find any books, or something of the like, that would tell you at least vaguely what to do. so many stories, so many ‘how to’ books, yet nothing came up.

you couldn’t find anything to guide you and that scared you to no end.

so when a woman showed up, dressed properly in a clean, well fitted dress, speaking of some sort of organization that- well you didn’t listen to what they did, really, because you were focused on the fact that with this, you would be able to return closer to normal, and you wouldn’t have to do some sort of extreme home birth, without a home.

and so, the both of you joined her- the ‘handler’ as she called herself- going back to this place that she spoke of.

when you got there, you actually listened to what she had to say. they preserve the time continuum. explained simply, they eliminated people that threatened a change in what is meant to happen in the time line of events. you would be working for them, in return for going back to twenty nineteen after five years. back to the timeline where the apocalypse would still happen.

but five had a different idea of what would happen. here, you would make time for yourselves- you weren’t really going to stay in this world, only to go through the apocalypse. this time alone, because he wouldn’t be able to survive the blast that you did.

no. you would have your baby, and he would find a way to get you back. he would find the right equation. he wanted to save the world.

so, you worked for the commission.

even being pregnant, you wanted to work along his side, so you were trained with him to be the perfect assassins. that took a few months, so by the time it was all over, you had given birth to your little bundle of joy. (i’ll let you choose the gender and name, idc lol)

and after that, it was an uphill battle.

you finished your training, only to move straight into doing the missions assigned to you. going to different points in time to make the ‘corrections’, killing people with a baby strapped you your chest with a sling.

after getting ready, you sigh, looking at the baby who laid in the collapsible crib that you carried with you on these missions. you hated having to raise her in this situation- but it was way better than in the apocalypse. who knows if you would have even survived giving birth.

you put the baby sling on with the help of five, before carefully getting the baby in place. this had become routine over the last year.

so you set out for another mission, guns in hand as you headed off to the grassy field that would serve as your perch while waiting for the victim to show up.

while you set up the sniper, five was off to the side, scribbling in the book that he carried around everywhere, until you heard a gasp. “i got it!” he says in excitement.

turning your head, you raise an eyebrow, “what?”

“the equation!” he holds the book up to show you, open so you can see everything that had been scribbled inside over all this time. “i finally got it right.”

your lips part in surprise, and you’re silent for a moment while you think, “so we can-”

“-we’re going back home! we can save the world and finally have the life we’ve always wanted.”

a grin spreading across your face, you drop the gun on the ground, not caring about it one bit anymore. “well then, get on with it!” your urge as you run over to stand next to him.

he nods, handing the book to you before closing his eyes and focusing.

without much time, a portal-like anomaly begins to form, and when you look into it you can see what you assumed to be a back yard, and people running out of whatever building was next to it.

when his eyes opened, the smile on his face is wide. “are you ready?” he asks softly.

“as i’ll ever be.”

he grabs hold of your hand, and with the other you hold onto the baby, not wanting anything to happen to it- but you trusted five.

going through the portal was nauseating. you had traveled through time before, but then, it only turned your stomach over, since it was in the blink of an eye that you were transported. this, though, felt like you were being pulled through and spun around a million times, before you were finally spat out onto the ground in front of the group of people.

the impact from hitting the ground forces a grunt out of you as you hold onto the child. your keep your eyes squeezed shut a few moments longer, before you hear an unfamiliar voice.

“is it just me, or do you all see little number five?” you open your eyes to see the man who spoke.

“and a little girl with a baby? yeah.” allison’s eyebrows are raised, and her expression shows confusion at the sight before her.

your eyebrows furrow at the use of the word ‘little’, sitting up to look down at yourself to realize that you are, in fact, little. you’re back to the little thirteen year old girl who looked like she was actually from your time, who got stuck in an apocalypse.

you no longer look your age of twenty-six years old.

“what the hell!” you nearly scream, causing your little child to begin to cry, and you curse under your breath as you scramble to your feet, wrapping your arms around the baby in the sling as you begin to bounce slightly to soothe it.

well, you may look thirteen again, but at least you’re out of the hell you were living. once the world was saved, you can finally have the normal life you wanted.

tag lists

main: @horrorklaus @megasimpleplan4ever

tua: @rasberrymay @noodlextrash @atomicpillar @malfovs @andreasworlsboring101

five taglist: @anapocalypseinmymind @five-hargreeves-official @insatiable-ivy @coffee-e-addict @xplrreylo @fandomfreakff @colie-babi @flowertoty @avovada @badwolf00593

for this one shot: @alexander-hamilhoe

#tua #umbrella academy #five #five hargreeves #five hargreeves x reader #five x reader #the umbrella academy #tua x reader #umbrella academy x reader #the umbrella academy x reader #number five #number five x reader

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mypersonmyg · 4 years

Text

stream simulator | jjk

pairing: gamer/streamer!jeongguk x reader

genre: fluff, gamer au

rating: g

wc: 1k

warnings: n/a

summary: you want to sit in the comfy gamer chair OR jeongguk’s subs love you more than they love him

a/n: i’m honestly so proud of myself for keeping up with this, even if maybe they’re not great drabbles; anyways...how perfect that it’s the 7th day, the prompt is games and the only boy i haven’t written for is my love mr.jeon? i hope you enjoy :-))

also...i kinda like the concept of this so mayhaps i’ll do more drabbles with these 2, come back and flesh it out more???

prompt 7. G - Game. The otp+ play a game together.

november drabbles masterlist

main masterlist

The hum of a droning program does little to distract from the desire for company, Jeongguk long since locked away in his office. You’re privy to the occasional raise of a voice, laughter piercing peaked ears, enticed by the unrelenting joy. Time just meets the mark of an hour when you’re rising in sweats, sights set on the kitchen for a roundup of snacks curated for an occasion such as this.

You lose resolve as you tread, feet silent with socks against vinyl, towards Jeongguk’s closed door. You debate a knock though you’re reminded of headphone covered ears, the sound of unrelenting alerts and the deliverance of messages dripping with adoration and the occasional well intended dig.

The door is pushed with exerted effort, the will to maintain grip on the items in your grasp. You’re stilled at the immediate whip of Jeongguk’s head, your entrance not as stealthy as planned. It’s with embarrassment that you realize the image of you fits to frame on the sizable monitor.

“Well hello there, come on in,” Jeongguk is less than surprised at your sudden appearance, already working on the plugging of spare headphones, his backup mic slotted into the stand. “The chat is already going crazy with donos because they like you better than me.”

“They haven’t even met me,” You deposit your haul to the desk, face scrunched in mortification. You readily accept the placement of headphones, Jeongguk then rising to fetch a near chair. You take his absence as a chance to swoop in, bottom firmly planting in the gaming chair you’d gifted him. “Hi guys, I’m y/n if you don’t know! Guk never lets me sit in his chair, now I see why.”

You’re able to just catch the flash of comments that flood the screen. Viewers poking fun at your boyfriend and his love for the cushioned seats. Your chuckle is interrupted by his reappearance, a chair significantly less pleasing in his grip.

“Your chat says that you love your chair more than me,” You regard with arms folded, Jeongguk quickly depositing the chair, arms framing you whilst he peruses the screen.

“You guys are traders,” He points to the lens, feigned disappointment painting his otherwise innocent features. “She’s been on for two minutes and you’re already putting me on blast.”

“You’re not even gonna deny it!?”

“Babe, this chair feels like it was crafted by the gods. Tell me it doesn’t.” He fixes a stare, daring a fib. You shrug without the pretense to move, Jeongguk shifting you ever so slightly with encouragement. “Besides, you don’t need me, the chat has already collectively decided that this is your stream.”

True to word, you glance at the screen, the first words to catch your gaze being jeongguk who? I only see y/n <3.

“You guys are so sweet! Why don’t you invite me to your streams?” You ask Jeongguk, his hands already reaching for a half eaten bag, as he settles into the spare chair, all but given up on regaining his spot.

“You can come whenever you want,” He speaks as if it’s obvious past the crunch of a filled mouth. “I just didn’t think you were interested.”

“Not interested in spending time with you and this sexy crowd?” Jeongguk is quick to swallow, eyes widening at blatant flirtation. You feel yourself heat at your own words, unsure of sudden confidence.

“Oh no, you’re giving them ideas. She’s mine, no one else look at her,” You muffle bursts of laughter at the attempt to shield you from the screen. As if to further prove the territorial gag you feel the press of lips to your cheeks. “Maybe this is why I never invited you, I’ve got competition now.”

“But hey look, so many people are subbing!” This catches attention, your headphones half askew, a reminder of the alerts sounding in your ear. Jeongguk turns back to the streamer side, your eyes taking him in as he calls out thanks to the rise in sub counts and donations aplenty.

“Y/n?” You blink, Jeongguk’s attention once more on you, a half smirk on his face. “They said that they want you to come on stream more.”

“Really?” You double check, sure that it’s something Jeongguk would say to boost a shy ego. Sure enough it’s the truth, chorus of agreement sounding off in every direction. You nearly shy into Jeongguk’s hoodie, but simply smile into the lens. “You guys are really sweet.”

“Careful, I’m not trying to let you steal my job.”

“Don’t worry, I love you too much to do that.” Now you’re the one dropping a kiss, thumb swiping along his dimpled cheek. “Let’s play a game!”

“Excuse me? You wanna play a game?” A valid response, your competitive streak not entirely present in this respect. Your explanation lies in the desire to gain the full experience.

“Yeah, we can play something simple like the game with the little round guys with all of the costumes!” You throw your arms out in vague movements, your words not seeming explanation enough.

“Is-is my girlfriend turning into a gamer?” Jeongguk glances from you to the camera, expression undergoing a range of emotion, all over dramatic in right. “I don’t know guys, I might have to end the stream early if you know what I mean.”

“You’re so gross!” You counter with a gentle shove, both of you laughing at the declaration. He begins typing away at the screen, pulling up the game in question your vocals emitting to a rather pleased squeal. “Yes, this!”

“When have you seen anyone play this?”

“I watch you sometimes,” You admit sheepish, the topic never coming up. It��s not surprising you would support his streams, but the thought of being outside when you could’ve been a part of the action dawns.

“Aw, you guys she watches my streams,” Jeongguk coos. “You wanna go first?”

“Oh no, I’m scared.” You respond in tiny, watching as the chat explodes with words of affirmation, still stunned at their ready acceptance. “So many people are watching.”

“Yeah, but don’t worry. They won’t bully you like they do to me.”

“What?” You’re given no chance to thrust the controller away as it’s placed in your palms. Jeongguk leading you blind. You turn to him with wide eyes of betrayal, his hands already offering the raise of thumbs.

“Good luck, you’ll do great!”

#bangtanhq #bangtanidx #bangtanwriterscollective #bangtanuniversity #bangtanarmynet #jeongguk x reader #jungkook x reader #jjk x reader #jungkook fluff #bts fluff #jungkook drabble #bts drabble #jungkook fanfic #bts fanfic #bts november drabbles 2020

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gr0vndz3ro · 4 years

Text

Ghost of You

Bakugou x reader

Warnings: angst, mentions of character death

Word count: 2,798

Crossed off: Dancing in the Kitchen

Tag list: @sadistiks @unbreakableeiji @fanfic-me-up @gallickingun @keigod

A/N: I may or may not have cried writing this that is besides the point. I want bakugou forehead kisses ): but I hope that you guys enjoy this piece I did for the @bnhabookclub bingo event! Also may have loosely based this off the song Ghost of You by 5sos

You were always the more cheerful one of the two. Katsuki knew this from the first time he met you and was one of things he loved you for. The way you were able to light up a room with just the sound of your voice, and how you were the only one who could cheer him up after a long day at work.

He treasured how you always found a way to put him first in everything you did. Waking up with him to join him for a cup of coffee before he left for work. Making sure that his plate of food was always warm when he got home. Massaging his shoulders and arms as you two cuddle on the couch watching movies. Over the 6 years you had been together he still managed to find new ways to love you.

It was in the way your eyes lit up when your favorite song came on the radio. In the way you laughed at all of his little snide remarks that he never meant. How your hand fit perfectly into his, as if your hand had been sculpted to fit perfectly into his own. Even in your little snores that fell from your lips when ever you were extremely tired. He fell in love with how clingy you got whenever you got sick, wanting nothing more then for him to play with your hair till you fell asleep.

But his favorite thing that he grew to love the most was something he only discovered after you moved in together. He had only managed to find out by accident as it was your little secret. He had never meant to find out, but when he had came home early from work, flowers in hand, to find the music blasting and you dancing your heart out in the middle of your kitchen, he found himself absolutely smitten. That was the day he knew he wanted to marry you.

Seeing you throw yourself haphazardly around the room in a vague attempt at dancing, he couldn’t stop the smile that took over him as he watched. Hair going everywhere, hips swaying and feet stomping. To anyone else they would have thought you had went insane, if he wasn’t dating you, Katsuki would have thought the same. But seeing you absolutely carefree as your favorite artist blasts through the speaker on the table made him feel so much love for you. He couldn’t explain it, but he feel the need to either. He never confronted you about your kitchen concert. You probably didn’t want him to know and he never wanted to make you feel uncomfortable, so that day he left the house and waited outside of the door until he heard the song finish and made sure you could hear him when he came in.

He found himself coming home more and more in any attempt to see you doing your little dances. On his lunch break he would stop by the house and lean on the front door to see if could hear the light thumping of your many songs blasting throughout your shared home. Whenever he heard it he couldn’t help but sneak inside and watch the show you put on for absolutely no one. Today was no different from any other. It was his lunch break and he made his way to the door, hearing the soundtrack blast through the speakers, he quietly slipped in through the door. He made sure to close the door behind him as softly as he could before tip toeing through the house to where he knew he would find you dancing like your life depended on it. But when he turned the corner and you weren’t there he became confused. She always dances in the kitchen, where could she- his thoughts were cut off by the sound of you clearing your throat behind him, freezing him in place. Turning around, he sees you standing behind him with your arms crossed and an eyebrow raised.

“Heyyy babe, I wanted to surprise you and spend lunch together.” He tried playing it off while walking over to where you were, wrapping his arms around you in a warm embrace. Your arms find their way around his torso as you feel him dip down to kiss your forehead.

“Oh is that so.. is that why you’ve been stopping by all week?” His breath hitches in his throat. He had been caught like a deer in head lights.

“Wait, I-I can explain it’s not like I was-”

“Come dance with me Katsu” A smile covering your face as you grab your boyfriend's hand and drag him into the kitchen. You let go of your hold and throw your hands up into the air as the beat drops in the song that was filling the room. He stood there in a state of confusion and awe as he watched you fling your arms all around.

“I don’t know how.. to do.... that” He looked down to the ground, a slight tint of pink covering his face in embarrassment.

“Nonsense. You don't need to know how to dance to dance, just move how ever the music makes you feel. Here” You take his hands in your own and sway them back and forth to the beat of the music. After a few minutes and a lot of convincing him to stay, you both stood in the middle of the kitchen, holding each other in your arms, swaying to the soft song that played in the back ground. You pulled yourself away from him slightly to look him in the eyes, the soft smile that finds it’s way to your lips unknown to you. “Look at you, your dancing.” He can’t help but suck his teeth at you and turn his head, but he knew in his heart he was just as happy.

The only time he ever danced infront of anyone besides you was at your wedding after you dragged him to the middle of the floor. All of your friends surround the two of you but his focus was only on you. You had looked stunning that night. Not that he didn’t think you looked stunning everyday. It was just the fact that you were finally his, and only his forever. Through everything you had to put up with, you still came back to him, time and time again, your love for him never faltering. You were his rock and his person. Over the years you spent together he learned that it was okay to open up to you and that you wouldn’t think he was weak when he felt venerable. You meant so much to him he couldn’t begin to put into words, so he had felt no hesitation when your pretty little hands dragged him out of his chair to the middle of the dance floor to dance to the same song you had taught him to so long ago.

As you swayed in the middle of the floor your high school friends watched in shock at how calm their once hot headed friend now was in your arms. They smiled at how perfect the two of you were together and how you managed to bring out the softer, nicer side of Katsuki. They’d never say it to him in person in fear of an explosion to the face, but it was nice to see that he found someone to trust enough to feel completely at peace around.

Things in your life seemed to always go smoothly. Sure he’d start fights every once in a while but you’d roll your eyes and ask him what was really bothering him, and after some time he’d finally confess about what plagued his mind. Any problems the two of you faced, you faced together. Some times the missions he went on haunted him at night. He would toss and turn through out the night and you would wake up and pull him close to you. Running your hands through his hair as you speak soothing words to him. But you never brought up the sleepless nights to him, he would talk to you about it when he was ready, he always did. So for the mean while, you would just do your best to lull him back to sleep and comfort him through the night. He would never tell you but he was always awake as you whispered sweet nothings to him, the way you tell him you love him still making his heart flutter like it did the first time you had said it to him back in high school.

But the time he needed your comfort the most, you hadn’t been there. It wasn’t your fault. It was the monster of a man who you had bumped into on your way to the grocery store. It seemed like it was just yesterday.

The two of you were sitting in the living room when you had got up to go to the kitchen to grab a snack for the both of you. When you got to the fridge you opened it, looking around to find something but failing miserably. You went to the pantry and searched the cupboards but when you weren’t able to find anything you let out a sigh before heading back to the living room.

“Hey Katsu we’re out of snacks so I’m just going to head to the store really quick and grab us some stuff.” You started heading toward the front door but was stopped by his hand on your wrist.

“Here wait and I’ll go with you. Let me just go put on some clothes.” He turned to go to bedroom but it was your turn to grab his wrist. A look of confusion on his face as he turned around to meet your gaze.

“No don’t worry about it, you had a long day at work go relax.” You smile at him trying to convince him to try to rest and enjoy the evening.

“It’ll only take me like 5 minutes, Hell I’ll go without the shirt it’s fine” He goes to put on his shoes, completely shirtless, yet still willing to go dressed in what little he was in to join you to the small trip.

“Baby, I mean it. You’ve had a really rough few days, please go sit down and try to relax. I wont be gone for more than 20 minutes tops. You can go take your shower and then by the time you’re done I’ll be back. Sound like a plan?” Holding his hands in your own you look him in the eyes hoping you’d be able to convince your husband to slow down and take a breather. He paused before letting out a sigh and grabbing your face in between his hands.

“I’m not going to win this am I?” You shook your head and he let out a sigh giving up. “Alright but don’t take to long okay, oh and make sure you get those one chips. The spicy ones I like, you know what they’re called.” You let out a giggle at the small request.

“Of course. I love you” You lean forward and give him a quick kiss before grabbing your keys and heading out the door. The door clicks behind you as you leave to the store.

“I love you too” He says to a now empty room before making his way back to the couch. He’d soon regret not saying those words to your face before you left, and would regret not forcing himself to join you even more. Because maybe if he had been just a little bit more stubborn you would have been able to join him for the rest of that movie that he has still yet to finish.

It had been a year.

A year.

Katsuki walk into the apartment after a long day at work placing his keys and wallet in the bowl next to the door. He had called out into the house like he used too out of habit but it wasn’t the same. There wasn’t any response to his call. He honestly hated coming home because it didn’t feel warm like it used to. It was to quiet here. He walked into the kitchen and glanced at the calendar, before realizing the date and his breath caught in his throat. How had he forgot. He turned out of the room and grabbed his keys and left.

As he drove around in his car, he found himself stopping at the store. It was the same one. The same one you were supposed to go to before he had gotten the call. Thinking back he remember the feeling of how his heart broke. He always thought that people exaggerated when they said that but he finally understood. But god he wished he didn’t. He wished he could return to the time when he was oblivious to how it felt to have a gapping hole where he once felt happiness. Back to when picture of your smile would make his heart fill with joy instead of making his eye fill with tears.

He pulled over the car and stood in front of the store. He hadn’t came back here since the incident, but he thought that it was only fitting that he had today. After all this was were the two of you had first met. Granted you had class together, Katsuki being who we was, never noticed you were in the class until you had physically bumped into each other. He yelled at you for making him spill the chips he had just bought and you just returned his anger with your famous smile, apologizing and buying him 2 more as an offering of peace. After that day you found a way bothered him everyday, mostly bringing him snacks. Some of which you knew he would like, some that you liked and sometimes brand new ones that you wanted to try with him. You quickly stole the blond’s heart, but for some reason he was completely fine with it.

So here he stood. In front of the store you both deemed as your store. It wasn’t a big store, it was family owned, a nice elderly couple ran it. They teased the two of you for being a couple long before the thought of even dating had crossed either of your minds. You had grown fond of them and had even invited them to your wedding saying that if it wasn’t for them you guys wouldn’t have been together. Taking a deep breath, he pushed open the door, the bell ringing throughout the shop.

“Good evening, welcome to- Bakugou?” The elderly woman stops dead in her tracks at the sight of the young man. She almost doesn’t speak again, a sad smile on her lips as she walks over to him. “What brings you to the store? I haven’t seen you since.. well in a while.”

“I needed to get some flowers if that's alright.” His eyes glued to the floor, unable to hold eye contact. He wouldn't let anyone see him this vulnerable. With a small sigh she places a hand on his shoulder and gestures over to where the bouquets where at. He raised his head and his eyes fell on one in particular. With slow steps he reaches his hand out taking a hold of the bundle before bringing it to his nose and inhaling the sent. They smelled like her. “These are... these were her favorite.” He pauses looking at the perfectly arranged flowers, a small tear managing to fall from his cheek, hitting one of the petals.

“It’s on the house. Be sure to tell her I said hi.” The woman makes her way toward the back of the store, looking back at him before disappearing “And don't be a stranger alright?” He nods before thanking her and heading out of the store and taking off in his car again.

After driving for what seemed like hours he finally makes it to his destination. Parking the car, he steps out. He walks down the gravel path and all he can think of is that you shouldn’t be here. This place was so cold and bland. It was nothing like you. You deserved to be somewhere so full of life it was that it was almost suffocating. You deserved to there with him. But when he arrived at the spot he had travel here for, he bent down and sat on his knees. He placed the flowers at the edge of your stone and wiped the tears off his face that had some how managed to sneak out. Taking a deep breath he spoke.

“Happy anniversary my little ballerina.”

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shoot-the-oneshot · 4 years

Text

LONG SHOT

Requested by @spookyboogyuniverse

Could you wright a story about Nestor Oceteva when the M.C. and the Cartel where trying to find Alvarez but Bishop and Miguel didn’t have any leads so Nestor Calls in a favor from an old friend witch is the reader she used to be a sniper in the Marines in the war in Afghanistan Nestor meet her when she came back from deployment they dated for a wile but they broke up after he became head of security for Miguel because he grew distant from her and pushed her away. When she gets the call from Nestor telling her who she needs to find she drops everything and goes to help find Alvarez because Alvarez saved her life when she was in a dark place and she never had a father figure and Alvarez is her papa in her eyes bye Nestor does know that the reader knows Alvarez or that the M.C. is her family because of Alvarez?

Nestor Oceteva x reader

Miguel and bishop have gotten nowhere, no leads nothing, at this point they would take a guess at Alvarez’s location. Nestor watched them go back and forth and coming up with nothing since he was taken. They all knew the longer it takes to find him the worse the out come would get. And the ticking of the clock a reminder of it. It wasn’t until Angel brought up her name that Nestor practically choked on air.

“What about Y/n she’s living with him right where is she?”

“Y/n didn’t do this.” Bishop knew how much you looked up to Alvarez, you seamlessly fell into the club when Alvarez introduced you. He took you in when you left the military, bishop knew there was more to it than just some obligation but he would never say and details. You must not know and he would hate to be the one to tell you.

“But she could find him right? He always talked about her skill set whatever they were she can use them right?” Angel didn’t know much about you despite you hanging around all the time. You were close to the club but very tight lipped about your time in the military.

“She’s a sniper.”

Nestor didn’t know he said that out loud until all eyes were on him. You both went through boot camp together and hit it off. Practically attached at the hip for years until he left to work for Miguel, he relives your fight everynight.

“Nestor! What are you doing?”

You had followed him to your shared bedroom only to see him packing a bag.

“I got a job lined up it’s perfect for us I’m already discharged you just have to get out and we can move and finally start our lives together!” Nestor rushed out while throwing clothes in bags he didn’t notice you haven’t said anything until you pulled your bag away from him and he was left with a handfuls of your shirts.

“It’s not the job with the cartel right?”

He’s never heard you speak so softly, almost as is you were afraid of anyone hearing you say the words. You made your dislike for the cartel very known when he got approached with it. At his silence you had your answer.

“You know how I feel about them!”

“I know but it’s worth it.”

“No, you decided it was worth more than me.”

At this point packing has been forgotten and the energy in the room had shifted. Staring into your watering eyes he tried to get closer to comfort you, stoping in his steps when you shook your head. You’ve never turned down his touch before no matter what war you were fighting you always came to him. He didn’t know how to handle it when you didn’t.

“I thought we already started our lives together, I guess I was wrong.”

Those were the last words you spoke to him and he still hears them clear as day.

“You know Y/n?”

Miguel asked looking to his bodyguard.

“We were in the marines together.” Was his vague explanation.

“Can she help us find Alvarez, Nestor?”

At his nod Miguel told him to call you.

“She will help, but not if it comes from me.”

Looks like bishop is the one that has to tell you after all.

You dropped everything when bishop called you figured it was about Alvarez since he hasn’t been home for a few days. Walking up the steps leading to a large house Angel brings you up to the office where bishop is.

Taking a look around the room only recognizing the MC, until you look at the man standing behind the desk. His hair is much longer and tied back into braids but you’d know him anywhere, Nestor. Not giving him a second glance you looked to the el presidente. “Why am I here bishop.”

Looking between the two ex marines feeling the tension between them, Nestor didn’t give up any information but anyone with eyes could see there was something between you two. With a sigh he started to explain everything with Alvarez.

“You got a phone I can use Pablo Escobar?”

Miguel quickly held out a phone when he noticed you were referring to him. Dialing the number you reached across the desk grabbing his computer too and sitting at the table with the Mayans and as far away from Nestor as possible.

“All knowing oracle at your service”

“Hey Garcia, it’s Y/n.” She gasp over the line squealing.

“Y/n! Are you finally calling to tell me how your date with Ried?” Nestor knew you probably dated after him but he wasn’t ready to hear it. You smiled internally when he tensed, wanting to make him hurt just a bit at picking a job over you.

“Later I promise but I need help tracking someone down.”

“Oh I don’t think I’m allowed to do that Y/n I’m sorry.”

“It’s Alvarez.”

After you’re declaration the line is silent, until she sighs and asked for more information to start looking at. You met Garcia at a PTSD meeting. Alvarez thought it would help you, she was there after she got shot. Thankfully you stayed in touch it never hurts having friends in the FBI. telling you she will call you back when she has something you look to bishop and ask him to drive you home so you can pick up your gear. You snapped when Miguel offers to have one of his men pick it up.

“You and your men better not even think of coming close to me or my gear!”

It’s an hour after you stormed out that Garcia calls and tells you where Alvarez is being held and you quickly text Bishop and tell him to meet you a mile away.

Rolling your eyes as you see Nestor and Miguel there as well. Your rifle strung across your back. “Here’s the plan I pick off the guards outside and everyone else waits till I give the go ahead to go inside, copy?”

When everyone agrees you look to the Mayans new prospect. “Come on I need a spotter.”

“I’ll do it.”

You were hoping you wouldn’t have to speak to him but of course he just has to say something. “No!”

“Actually I would be more comfortable having one of my men up there just to be sure you don’t shoot me in the back.” Miguel stated as if you’d care.

“I’m not a coward I’d shoot you in the face if anything. Come on prospect.” Just as you were about to storm off bishop pulled you back nodding to Nestor. Groaning you wave your hand motioning for him to follow you up the hill while the others got in their position.

“I didn’t know you were in town.”

If he thinks you’re going to talk to him he must’ve forgotten who you were.

“Are you not going to talk to me?”

“Are you not going to talk to me princesa?”

Nestor had his arms wrapped around you from behind leaving soft kisses on your neck knowing he was on your bad side. Giving him a huff and turning your head away. One of his hands disappeared from your waist as he sets a bag of gummy worms in front of you. Giving him a smile before diving for the sour treat, moving to straddle his lap the bag held between you both. “You’re forgiven.” You winked. What’s a stolen candy when he’s already stolen your heart.

“Y/n, Y/n!”

“What!” You growled, spinning to face him. With everything else that’s changed about him his eyes are still the same.

“You know I never meant to hurt you.”

“The only reason I’m here is for Alvarez, don’t forget that.” You sighed turning back around to finish the hike to the sniper perch.

Quietly setting down your bag you throw the range finder binoculars knowing he would catch them. The peak of the hill gives a great view of the warehouse. Nestor laying down next you, rattling off windage and distance, while you screw on the silencer is when Nestor speaks up again.

“Just like old times right.”

“If it’s not about the mission dont talk.”

Clicking the safety off you count six guards. Taking a deep breath and lowering your heartrate for a better shot you pick off the two in the back the four left none the wiser.

Finishing off the guards you switch to the thermal scope and call bishop. “Five inside two on the west side, two east and one in the middle possibly Alvarez. Move in.”

Watching the Mayans and the Cartel storm the building while you scan the perimeter for any surprises. Nestor answering your phone when it rings and putting it on speaker. “We got him he’s okay, we will meet you both back at Miguel’s.”

Packing up your rifle and extra gear before making the trek back not waiting for your Mexican shadow, who quickly catches up.

“Are you going to tell me how you know Alvarez or should I just ask him?”

Nestor asked once he started driving back, you huff and continued looking out the window.

“He’s Miguel’s new advisor he’ll tell me if I ask.”

“He won’t tell you anything and you shouldn’t ask it’s not your place.”

“Anymore” He mumbled, glaring at him from the corner of your eye. “What?”

“You mean it’s not my place anymore.”

“Yeah Nestor that’s what I mean.” You sighed, running a hair through your hair. Nestor was always the one you told everything to no matter how bad it felt weird not telling him almost.

“After you left I stayed in the marines and got deployed, got a new spotter. We were practically twins, at least that’s what everybody called us. After a few months the bad guys caught on that we had snipers and set IEDs where they thought we would go. One day when we went out. He bet that he could get to the perch before me, he won.”

Nestor was quiet, your shaky breathing being the only noice beside the low radio in the background. “He accidentally hit a tripwire....the blast was big enough to throw me out a window, that was my last deployment and Alvarez served with my sergeant so when I got out he introduced us He has helped me work through some stuff since then he’s been a father figure for me. Does that answer your question?”

Nestor knew you didn’t want him to say he was sorry you’ve always hated when people said that but before he could say anything he pulled up to the house and you jumped out of the car. “Al!” You yelled almost knocking the doctor over that was looking at his wounds. His chuckle rumbling through your body at how tightly you hugged him. Pulling back he grabs a leaf out of your hair. “I see you were apart of my rescue mission.”

“She was the one that found you.” Nestor said from his spot at the doorway silently watching your interaction, that was the first time he’s seen you smile in years. Alvarez raised his eyebrows looking between you and Nestor knowing the history between you both, rolling your eyes showing your displeasure. “I even worked with him for you so try not to get taken again because I’m not doing that again.” You whispered, taking a seat next to him while the doctor continued. “You know I don’t think you’ve gotten closure between you two.”

“So?”

“So, you should talk to him.” He suggested with that knowing look all fathers seem to have. And you know he’s right. Walking over to Nestor stopping once your shoulder to shoulder next to each other. “Coffee, tomorrow morning don’t be late.” Were your parting words as you walked out the door not seeing Nestors gaze following you nor hear him whisper.

“I won’t princesa.”

#nestor oceteva x reader #nestor oceteva imagine #mayans x reader #mayans mc imagine #angel reyes x reader #ez reyes x you #miguel galindo imagine #Alvarez imagine #Nestor imagine #soa imagine #Nestor Oceteva x you

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anotheronechicagobog · 3 years

Text

Rangers, Lead The Way - Chapter 3 - Kenny with Maggie

written by @anotheronechicagobog

warnings: swearing, nudity, profanity, mention of school shooting, guns, weapons, I’m pro gun control (even though I’m Canadian) and this kinda reflects that, mention of PTSD, child neglect, also I fucking hate nazis

When someone called before seven in the morning it was work, a death notification, or one of his fellow trio of lovestruck fools. So when the annoying ringtone Hana installed as a prank and he couldn’t figure out how to remove started blasting on his nightstand at 2:17 in the morning, he was more annoyed than apprehensive. “Crosby.”

“Hey man, sorry to call you so late, but it’s about Maggie.”

“What’s going on?”

“One of her first arrests as an FBI agent just broke out of prison, and she’s been temporarily assigned to the unit being tasked with finding him. Yours. I expect you’ll be getting a call in the next five minutes or so. Maggie can take care of herself, I know that, but...”

“It’s hard when you’re not there to watch her back. Don’t worry, I’ve got her.”

“Thank you. So much. I appreciate this, so, so much.”

“Hey, a couple of months ago I was you. I feel you man, don’t worry. She’ll be fine. Listen, I’d love to keep talking but I’ve got another call coming in and it looks like that work call you were warning about. Talk to you later.”

“See you on the flip side, man.”

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Jess stood in front of everyone with that look on his face that vaguely reminded Kenny of his stern ex-navy fourth-grade teacher. “Everyone, this is special agent Maggie Bell, you may remember her from when we worked with her unit on a couple of cases, but this time it’s just her joining us. Is there anything you’d like to add, Bell?”

“I’m excited to work with you all, but please, call me Maggie.”

“Alright, let’s get to work, then. Maggie, Jason Anderson was one of your first arrests with the bureau, can you brief us on that case and highlight any details you think may be pertinent?”

“Definitely. Well for starters, Anderson is a cheating scumbag and it only gets worse from there.” Maggie’s bluntness broke through the formality that was stifling the bus, smirks and chuckles abound, and it seemed that only he didn’t have the sense to at least try and hid his amusement. An understanding but disapproving look had Kenny composing himself to speak up. “Well then, let’s jump down this rabbit hole.”

Maggie was sitting next to Hana, giving details about the fugitive they were currently after. He was one of Maggie’s first arrests as an FBI agent, so the bureau thought it would be beneficial to have her work with the team. So here she was, dressed in jeans and a sweater as opposed to her usual suits, combining her razor-sharp intelligence with Hana’s. They’d commandeered the top floor of a police station in Boston and were relying on Maggie and Hana’s wit to find out where he was. Jason Anderson, 42, was an illegal weapons dealer. He’d previously been put in prison for distribution and possession of prohibited firearms, and for giving an AK-47 to a school shooter. He was being transferred to a higher security prison because it came to light that he was continuing his business from behind bars, but the security team had been too small and unprepared for the escape plan pulled off by a team of eight. Those eight men were their biggest clue oddly enough, as they’d been dropping like flies since the escape. Michael Howard, 40, was Anderson’s ex-brother-in-law. And the connection between all the, now dead, prison breakers. Unfortunately, Howard’s sister, and Anderson’s ex-wife, had cut contact with both of them along with the rest of their families after Howard introduced Anderson to his mistress and encouraged an affair that created two children. The mistress, Bethany Karnstein, had gone AWOL hours ago when she left her job in the middle of her shift and didn’t pick her kids up from school.

The kids were safe with Anderson’s parents, but they couldn’t answer their questions when they asked where their mother was. The kids did identify Michael Howard as one of their mom’s friends though, he’d come to watch them while their mother was in the hospital about six months prior. They didn’t look shocked that FBI agents were asking about their parents, but they still didn’t know anything.

At the moment, they were splitting up. Jess and Barnes were headed to follow up with Bethany’s clueless boss, he and Clinton were about to go follow up on a possible sighting, and Hana and Maggie were staying on the bus. Thankfully, since Kenny was stressed out enough at the prospect of having to watch out for Maggie on top of worrying about Hana, them being assigned together eased his mind.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was around midnight when he and Clinton were finally able to rendezvous with the rest of the team. There was no sighting, Bethany had one of her affair partners call in a false tip, and when he and Clinton had quickly sussed that out it lead to a shootout and car chase. Jason, the dumbass stupid enough to commit six different felonies for a woman who has two kids with a violent arms dealer, was lying in a heavily guarded ICU bed. They’d managed to get his cell phone but he was beyond unconscious when they’d finally managed to get him to stop shooting at them. “Hey Hana, I brought you something.”

“Jason’s cell?”

“That too, but I was actually talking about this.” He held out a large coffee that she desperately needed if the way her eyes lit up was any indication. “Thank you.” Hana let out an over-dramatic groan as she downed the first sip. “Hey Crosby, thanks for my coffee too.” He looked at Maggie sheepishly, realizing that he’d only gotten two, one for himself and the other for Hana. “I was the one who drove to and then parked in front of the coffee shop while he went and got those, how do you think I feel?” Clinton’s playful jab caused a round of giggles but the knowing look from the older man made Crosby a little nervous. He was sure his feelings towards Hana weren’t super well-hidden, but he really didn’t need anyone on the team tipping Hana off. “Anyway, here’s Jason’s cell. Do you think you can crack it?”

“Normally with this many characters I’d say no... But, his password is seven characters long and his lock screen is Bethany, so... There we go, unlocked.”

“... That was a really poor choice of password.”

“And girlfriend.”

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After working for fourteen hours straight they were all spent and headed to the hotel that the FBI had secured rooms at for them. Jess, Barnes and Clinton were all in one car that was headed straight to the hotel to get everyone checked in. Kenny, Hana, and Maggie were in the other car that was making a detour on the way to pick up Thai food. Hana and Maggie were chatting amongst themselves, but Kenny was still kicking himself for the slip-up he’d made while placing the order over the phone.

“Hi, can I place an order for pickup? Great. The name’s Kenny and the phone number is 123-456-7890. Okay, I’ll get two orders of shrimp rolls, one vegetable pad Thai, one pork Mee Khob, one chicken pad Keeng, and two orders of chicken Kao pad puk, hold on one second- Maggie you want green curry, right?”

“... Yeah, how did you know?” I’ve heard your partner talk about you almost non-stop since he met you because he’s head over heels in love with you, but I can’t say that, can? Especially because you, Hana, and Hailey don’t know that OA, Jya, and I know each other... For some reason, so sorry Maggie, Hana but I’m going to have to lie my ass off here. “Uh, sorry, I thought I heard you mention it earlier, plus you look like a green curry kind of person.”

“Ha, alright, yes I’d like some, thanks.”

“- Sorry about keeping you on hold, I’ll add one green curry to that order. Do you want me to pay over the phone or is it okay if I pay when I get there?”

“Kenny!”

“Sorry, what’s up?”

“Our exit is coming up in... 150 metres, you need to turn right.”

“Shit, thanks, Hana.”

“Are you okay? You seemed like you were in your own world there.”

“I’m fine, I was just thinking. Where do I go next?”

“Go straight for another 700 metres, it’ll be on the right.”

“Got it.”

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“Alright everyone, the food’s here!” They’d all decided to gather in one of the meeting rooms the hotel had to the left of the lobby, Kenny had admittedly bellowed a little loud, but it brought all of his straggling coworkers into the room from their various spots in and around the lobby.

“Finally, what took you guys so long?” He knew that Jess was just hangry, and frustrated that they hadn’t caught the fugitive yet, so he let the snappy comment slide.

“Crosby almost missed the turn.”

“You let Crosby drive? Rookie mistake” He gave Hana a teasing look of betrayal before turning to Clinton. “I’ll have you know I am an excellent driver.”

“You’ve driven into a lake.”

“That was one time three years ago! And we were in a high-speed chase with a guy on a BMX bike who made a sharp turn near a kid’s birthday party, I didn’t exactly have many options.” He sounded more upset than he actually was. Moments like these were nice, where they got to hang around each other and just be friends, and Maggie was fitting in wonderfully with everyone but especially Hana, who sat in between him and Maggie as she started telling a story about OA with her face absolutely glowing.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jason’s cell proved to be far more useful than he was. Bethany had been texting him from a rural address that turned out to be a cottage rental that was supposed to be vacant. The owners had a basic security system that had alerted them that someone was in their cottage, when the local LEOs investigated they immediately recognized the suspect but were able to play it off as having gotten a noise complaint, before going back to their vehicle and calling the FBI, while hiding their vehicle so that they could keep watch over the cottage. There was always a tense atmosphere when people were getting greedy for a raid, Kenny supposed the fresh air and appealing scent of pine trees eases tensions slightly, but not by much. Everyone knew that the worst could happen. That their loved ones could get an overly formal call at an unholy hour, telling them that the worst would happen. Everyone always did their best to try and prevent that, but there was only so much that they could keep out of fate’s unforgiving hands. His heartstrings pulled slightly as he flicked his eyes over to Hana. She was his special someone, even if she didn’t know it, and for a brief moment, he wondered what it would be like for her if he- No. Nope. You can’t think like that, especially not before a raid, and especially not about a woman who was only supposed to be your friend. The final preparations were complete and they were getting in position to breach. Hana still hadn’t been cleared for the field yet, so in the back of his mind, he was appreciative that there was one less person to worry about, with her wirelessly monitoring their body cams and coms. Although that was kind of moot point honestly, because Maggie was with them, in fact, Maggie had taken Hana’s position behind him. “You ready Maggie?” She put her hand on the back of his vest as the SWAT leader started counting down. “Always.”

The door was busted down and all the FBI and SWAT agents funnelled into the house through the three entrances. The sliding glass back door was where Jess was entering, the side door was for Clinton and Barnes, and He and Maggie were going through the front door. The front door went straight into the family room to the right, the eat-in kitchen was on the left, and directly across from the sliding glass door. Flashbangs went off as everyone started shouting, announcing themselves. There were screams and cries of panic, something not unusual in their line of work, what was also not unusual was finding Bethany naked on her knees with Michael Howard standing in front of her dressed in the same manner. Michael’s eyes went wide, and his thought process played out like an open book.

Shit. Feds.

Get gun.

... Gun is not in my holster because I’m not wearing clothes.

Run.

... Can’t run cause Bethany is clinging to my legs.

Kenny had to give the guy props for trying to tackle him linebacker style naked as the day he was born as he stood firm and checked him, sending him flying onto the ground. “Turn onto your stomach, now!”

He writhed around, trying to resist arrest, shouting “SUCK MY DICK YOU PIGS!” And trying to thrust his bare nether regions at everyone, Kenny in particular. “Howard Michael, you are under arrest, you have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you. Do you acknowledge that your rights have been read to you?”

“FUCK YOU!”

“I’m gonna take that as a yes.” One of the SWAT officers approached them with an itchy-looking wool blanket and took their suspect into custody. Maggie and Kenny shared a look before making their way to the two bedrooms that were to the left of the kitchen, they hadn’t been cleared yet and now they were trying to move fast to make sure that no other accomplices got away. Kenny took the right door, Maggie, to the left. “FBI! Freeze!” Kenny was met with the disturbing sight of a dead body on the bed. His throat and wrists had been slit and he was surrounded by lumped together blood-soaked sheets. He immediately recognized the dead body as the last remaining accomplice in the breakout. “Hey, Crosby? I need your help in here.”

“What’s up Maggie?” When he entered her room he stopped in his tracks. There wasn’t a bed, instead, there were two cribs for two babies, both of whom were in an equally freaked-out Maggie’s arms. “Here, let me help you.” Kenny helped lighten her load by taking a baby in his arms. “Hi sweetheart, what’s your name?”

“Kenny, these babies can’t be older than six months, you know she can’t respond to you, right?”

“I know, but they’re so little and scared, I want to at least try to comfort them.” The little girl hard curled up into his chest and nestled her face into his neck. “It looks like you’re doing a great job to me.”

“Who’s kids even are these?”

“I’m really trying not to think about it.”

“I’m praying to every deity there is that they’re not Bethany and Howard’s kids.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

There had to be thousands of deities, gods, godlings, divine beings, and not one of them could come through for those poor kids? The six-month-old twins Baxter and Hazel were the children of Bethany Karnstein and Michael Howard, who had murdered a man in the room next to their children’s room. The social services department where they were was basically non-existent, so while they waited for a social worker to drive from four and a half hours away they were watching the babies at the local police station while Jess and Clinton were questioning Michael. Baxter was much more social, jumping between the FBI agents, SWAT, and local LEOs, but he was now babbling quite happily on Maggie’s lap, whereas Hazel had immediately taken to Hana and refused to be held by anyone but her and Kenny. He looked at her fondly, Hana was holding the baby close to her chest and humming the tune to a melodic song he couldn’t remember the name of. Hazel looked up at Hana with wide, enchanted, trusting eyes, and all Kenny could do was feel his heart melt. A stray thought placed itself at the forefront of his mind and before he could stop it, he was picturing Hana as a mom, and as captivating as that thought was Kenny had to shake his head to stop it from going too far, they were just friends, it wasn’t Hana’s fault that he’s in love with her. I need to look somewhere else, anywhere else.

His eye-line shifted to Maggie and watching as she bounced an absolutely delighted Baxter on her lap. He knew that OA wanted a family, wanted a wife and a couple of kids, and looking at the tender way Maggie was holding and entertaining Baxter, he could see her being a mom too. Man, if OA saw this he’d have a heart attack, it’s his dream come true.

Kenny saw Hana shift positions out of his peripheral vision and turned to look at her and was immediately concerned. She had a look of discomfort on her face. “Hana? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Her tone was tense and Hazel immediately picked up on it and made a scared noise. “Are your arms tired? Do you want me to take her?”

“No. We’re fine. Maybe you should hold Baxter instead.” She snapped and finally looked him in the eyes, she was clearly angry and upset, but she seemed betrayed as well. Kenny leaned back into his chair his shoulders sinking in tandem. He was silently thankful that since everyone was milling about and talking it didn’t seem that anyone heard the exchange, though Maggie did look at him with a raised eyebrow. He shrugged his shoulders in response, completely bewildered. Maggie shook her head sharply, rolled her eyes, and scoffed. ‘Men.’ She mouthed. Kenny was completely clueless, had either of them noticed him watching them at they were offended at that? He watches Hana work away on her computer all the time and it’s never been an issue, but then again that was always subject to change. His inner ramblings were cut off when Jess and Clinton came back from the interrogation room. “Michael didn’t talk much, but Hana decrypted his cell and he has incoming and outgoing calls to a recluse retiree Evan DeLuca who lives forty minutes from here. Crosby, Bell go check it out, Clinton and I are going to take a break from interrogating Michael for an hour or so, Gibson and Barnes, you two can interrogate Karnstein, see how much she knows and just how involved is she in all of this. We can watch the babies while you’re in there...”

“Admit it, boss, you want a break just cause you two want to hold the babies.”

“Get moving Crosby, Barnes is already out the door.”

“You got it.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

They were twenty minutes into the tense car ride when Maggie finally spoke up. “Just so you know, you’re an idiot.” Flabbergasted Kenny let his mouth fall open and close a couple of times before tightening his grip on the steering wheel only to release it after taking a breath. “You’re probably right, but can you please tell me why I’m an idiot? What did I do wrong?”

“Can’t tell you that.”

“Why not? You were the one who brought it up.”

“Just... Focus more on Hana, okay?”

“Are you sure? I mean, I thought about it, and maybe that’s the issue?”

“Trust me, it’s not. Just focus on her, got it?”

“Okay... I’m confused as hell, but okay.”

“Isn’t that your usual state of mind?” He didn’t have to look over to see the teasing grin, he could feel it. “Woah, low blow, Maggie, low blow.”

“If you want to hear about a low blow, you should hear about how OA and I had to chase a clown fairy princess twelve blocks at two in the morning.”

“Please, go on.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Well. That went terribly wrong. As much as Kenny could appreciate the peace and aesthetic of small towns and cottage areas, he hated working in them because there was never any backup! Forty minutes may not seem like a lot of time, but when you’re in a firefight against a man who has access to a seemly endless supply of weapons of war, that was an eternity. He’d literally fired a bazooka at them, how in the fuck did he get a bazooka?! So, the good news about this situation? They’d found Jason Anderson. Bad news? They’d found Jason Anderson with an arsenal large enough and powerful enough to take down a small army. They’d managed to take cover, but Anderson clearly had night-vision goggles because, despite the fact that it was past eleven and pitch black, he always knew where they were. Oh, and Evan DeLuca was probably a dead retiree, not a recluse. That’s just great, another body to add to Anderson’s growing total. Now, all that he and Maggie had to do was not become part of that number. If only it were that easy. They’d managed to get around the side of the house where there were only two medium-sized windows on side of the house facing them instead of a large doorway like at the front and, presumably, the back.

When Kenny got Jess on the phone it was nothing but panicked observations, and the notification that they’d found Anderson, as he and Maggie ran for cover. His phone wasn’t even near his face when he made the call, so he’s not quite sure what all made it through, only that they were still thirty minutes away from the address.

“We need a plan.”

“He can see our movements so we’re going to have to be sneaky about it.”

“I’ll fire on him, cause a diversion, do you think you can try to sneak around back?”

“Are you crazy?! We didn’t have time to grab our vests, that’s suicide. Besides, how many rounds do you even have left?”

“I’ve got a mag and a half.”

“Really? I thought you fired a bunch of shots at him earlier.”

“I did, but I’ve been carrying extra ammo for this case, I figured I’d need it at some point considering we’re going up against a weapons dealer.”

“Smart-” She was cut off by another several hundred rounds being fired at the, thankfully incredibly thick, tree they were hiding behind. “We don’t have much of a choice Maggie. Head around back, I’ll try to distract him and not get shot.” He knew she’d argue with him, so he didn’t give her the chance to. He ran out from behind the tree and fired through the only window of the two that was open. There wasn’t any light on in the house, so Kenny really wasn’t sure what he was aiming for. After the sixth shot he heard “fuck! Fucking fuck!” And felt a wave of relief; he’d hit Anderson. Hopefully enough to keep him subdued. He ran around to the front of the house only to be met with the sight of Anderson pulling the pin out of a grenade. He ran back out faster than he entered and hugged the outside of the entrance just outside of the doorframe. “GRENADE!” The explosion went off where he’d been standing when he burst through the front door, shrapnel from the grenade exploded through the doorway seconds after he’d gotten out and he could hear some of it embed itself in the interior of the wall behind him.

When Kenny entered through the doorway, they were face to face. Kenny's gun was raised aimed at his forehead, and Anderson stood there weaponless. Pulling the trigger, Kenny made the mistake of thinking that it was over, that Anderson was done for. Click. Horror and vindication simultaneously coursed through Crosby and Anderson. The gun was empty. He'd spent all the rounds. Before he could lower his useless gun Anderson was on him like a feral animal. Despite the gunshot wound to Anderson’s right shoulder, he was just as lethal without a weapon as was when he had one. Anderson had him by the throat up against the wall and was pressing his thumbs into Kenny’s throat. Kenny threw two quick punches to Anderson’s jaw, releasing him and making them stumble away from each other. It quickly turned into a fight on the floor. They were biting, kicking, hitting each other, trying to get the upper hand. Kenny managed to land a solid elbow to Anderson’s head but that seemed to be the tipping point that only enraged him. The next thing Kenny knew Anderon had pushed him up and smacked him on the ground, knocking the air out of his lungs, and started to choke him again. Kenny tried to lay in a punch like the first time, but Anderson saw that coming, just dodged away from the fist and started pushing his thumbs into the centre of Kenny’s neck harder.

“FBI! Put up your hands!” Anderson growled but did as he was told. Kenny lay there gasping for breath knowing that it was too easy, Anderson had another trick up his sleeve, and Maggie was too smart not to know it too. She stepped closer, her gun pointed to the back of Anderson’s head, one hand reaching to her waist to grab her cuffs... That’s when Anderson made his move, spinning around and grabbing her by the waist, Anderson pulled her to the ground, the force caused her to let go of her gun. She tried to reach for it but Anderson pulled her towards him by her hair and put her in a chokeholdJaytill hazy from the lack of air Kenny grappled at him from behind. Trying to do something, anything, to save Maggie. Whatever he did worked because Anderson turned back to face him only now he had a bruise on the side of his face that was already swollen. Anderson tried grabbing Kenny by the neck again, but it was clear he was low on energy and just trying to fight until his last breath. Too bad for Anderson that Maggie wasn’t going to let that happen.

Crack.

And then Anderson was unconscious, lying on top of him, and Kenny barely had the strength to move the gun dealing scumbag off of him. “You good?”

“Yeah, thanks.” He looked at the gun in Maggie’s hand and Anderson on the ground. She was holding her gun by the barrel and there was some blood on the handle. “You cold-cocked him?”

“Yeah, I tried shooting him, but I mistook my gun for yours. I told you that you wouldn’t have enough ammo.”

“That you did. Thanks again, for saving my ass.”

“Any time.”

“I’m gonna call the team and let them know they don’t have to come in guns blazing... Especially because we are surrounded by improperly stored weapons and ammo. I’ll probably call for an ambulance too, to come to check you out.”

“What? Me?”

“Yeah, he had you in that chokehold pretty hard.”

“He strangled you, twice!”

“Three times actually, you weren’t here for the first one.”

“Even if you have to be dragged over by the ear, you will be getting checked out by the ambulance too.”

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“I’m going to preface this by saying Maggie’s fine, she doesn’t even have a concussion.”

“... That was the absolute worst way to start this call. Are you aware of that? Oh the heart attack you’re giving me? What the fuck happened?”

“Long story short, we found Jason Anderson and he tried to kill us.”

“And the long version? Actually, wait do I even want to know?”

“Probably not, but you want to know anyway because you think it will make you worry less, even though we both know it won’t, don’t you?”

“... Yes.”

“We got shot at a lot, got pinned down behind one of the massive trees they have out here, split up with me providing the distraction, I almost got blown up, my magazine was empty from providing cover so we went hand-to-hand, the door at the back was blocked by crates of uzis so it took her a while to get back, I got strangled three separate times, managed to land good hits, so did he, he threw Maggie on the ground when she showed up and she hit her head, he put her in a chokehold, I got her out of it by pinching his armpits really hard after punching wasn’t working, he tried to strangle me for the third time and Maggie cold-cocked him with my empty gun cause she couldn’t find hers. The paramedics cleared her, she’ll be fine. I think that Hana’s gonna try to drag us to the local clinic when we get back to town.”

“She’s okay?”

“Completely, she doesn’t even have a headache or sore throat, and she really saved my ass back there. She’s good. She’s with Hana right now actually. Hana was really off when everyone showed up, she’s been pretty worried and she won’t believe me when I say I’m okay but she’ll believe Maggie. You know you could probably call her, check up on her yourself? We were talking with the paramedics and she kept talking about this halal burger place you brought her to and she’d do anything for one of those right now... But from the look on her face when she brought you up, I’d wager she was actually talking about you. She misses you, even spent an hour talking about you when we all got Thai food in Boston.”

“Alright, thanks, man. I don’t know what I’d do if she wasn’t okay.”

“Gee, thanks for showing your concern for me. You know, your brother in arms-”

“Alright-”

“Fellow ex-ranger-”

“Okay-”

“Favourite blonde-”

“I’m glad you’re alright Kenny. I just can’t believe you two went up against Jason Anderson and walked away unscathed.”

“Actually my throat is pretty sore and the paramedics found some shrapnel in my right leg, all of it was shallow but some of it got pushed in deeper during the fight.”

“... Just go to a hospital, man. Seriously. Also, Hailey is my favourite blonde now. Sorry.”

“What?!”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“We have a problem.”

“What kind of problem, Hana?” Jess may have sounded cool, calm, and collected, but anyone who knew him was able to tell it was the opposite. Jess LaCroix likes for things to get done and stay done, according to Tali that’s why he hates doing the dishes, and this threw a serious wrench in everyone’s plans to escort the culprits, and children because children’s aid still hasn’t shown up, back to Boston and then go home to New York.

“Anderson’s set up a buy, a big one. Everything in that house except for two AK-47’s, ten grenades, and eight rounds of ammo for the AK-47, is for a single buyer, they’re meeting at the base of a hiking trail in two days.”

“Fuck. There were uzis and bazookas, who the hell are these guys.” Anderson was just a weapons dealer, and he was dangerous enough, Kenny really wasn’t looking forward to meeting whoever the buyer was. “I don’t know, I couldn’t find out, but there is some, I guess, good news. They think that he blew up an FBI agent and that that’s who’s in the hospital under armed guard. They think he got away, want to do the exchange earlier than planned, they want to meet in two hours, the same location.”

“Hana, we have the opportunity to also take down some pretty dangerous buyers too, that’s great news, why don’t you think so?”

“Kenny, they don’t know his exact face but they have a description. Six feet tall, blonde, blue eyes, muscular-”

“You think I have muscles?” Kenny realized his attempt at lightening the mood wasn’t welcome when no one chuckled along with him, muttering a quick apology before looking back at Hana, whose face displaced what he could only describe as contained distress. “Kenny, you’re pretty banged up, you shouldn’t be going out there.”

“Hana, I’ll be fine. Everything’s mostly superficial, SWAT hasn’t gone back to Boston yet, and we may not get another chance to get these guys. It has to be done, and quickly. I’ll be okay.” She took a deep breath and looked down at the papers on the table in front of her. She did not like it, that much was very obvious, but she looked frustrated that his logic was right, and that they’d have to go through with his, admittedly not very well thought out, plan. “Alright, I guess I’ll go and get the tech set up.” Jess coughed to draw attention to himself, along with everyone else in the room they’d been ignoring, and Kenny felt his cheeks heat up. “Sorry, is this the plan we’re going through with and should I get the tech together?”

“While I get the local LEO’s to give us some info on the terrain?” Jess looked them both over before nodding. “Sounds like that’s what we’re doing, thanks for doing all the planning guys, everyone, go get prepared.”

“Kenny, can you come and find me after you’re done talking to the LEO’s? I’d like to talk for a sec.”

“Sure thing Maggie.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

His talk with Maggie ended up just being a quick, and confusing, talk.

“I know that it’s been a rough couple of days, but I’m still you really need to be careful.”

“I know, it won’t be like back at the house, there’ll be back up this time, and I’ll have ammo in my gun this time.”

“This isn’t the time to joke but... Okay. And one more thing, be nice to Hana.”

“Aren’t I always nice to Hana? I feel like she’s upset with me but I don’t know what I’ve done wrong.” Maggie sighed before giving him a long look and was clearly debating whether or not to say something. “It’s not that you’ve done anything wrong, it’s just that... current circumstances have been stressing her out. Like me being your partner right now, it’s thrown her off a bit. And she said you’ve been acting strange so she’s worried about you for that on top of your physical safety, and Zadie has been calling and texting her quite a bit asking for updates about you, and it’s just been a lot for her.”

“Why didn’t she tell me any of this?”

“Sometimes it’s easier to talk to someone who isn’t directly involved in the issue. Look, all I’m saying is that you need to be careful, and maybe tell Zadie to not ask about you while you and Hana are working.”

“I didn’t even know she’s been doing that, it doesn’t matter that Hana isn’t in the field, her work is still crucial and she can’t afford to be distracted. Are we good?”

“Yeah, we’re good.”

“Good.”

Maggie was still pretty vague, but when Hana was wiring him up, he promised her he would be careful and cautious, that he was sorry if he worried her, the relief on her face made his heart twinge. He hadn’t meant to make her so concerned.

Two sets of headlights drove up the gravel road that leads to town, bring Kenny back to the present. Two men stepped out of each car and he immediately had to stifle a groan. He was now standing alone in a hiking trail parking lot alone, but with back up hiding in the trees, with four nazis. They were all in their fifties wearing blatant white supremacist clothes. He counted a trump shirt, a confederate flag, an all lives matter shirt, and a swastika shirt. “You Jason Anderson?” Confederate spoke first, and his voice was so loud and boisterous it shook his beer belly. “I am.”

“Is that FBI agent you blew up dead yet?”

“I really didn’t come here, when the feds are really pissed and packing heat, to make small talk. Are you buying or not? I’ve got them all loaded up in the back.”

“Can we see them first?”

“After I see the cash.” Trump shirt looked at confederate for confirmation before walking to the second pick-up truck, because of course, and returned with two stuffed duffle bags. Kenny unzipped them the second they were in front of him, and sure enough, stacks of $100 bills shoved inside in a disorderly fashion. Kenny pretended to count but he was really biding his time, trying to find ways to get them to spill their guts. “What do you guys want with this much firepower, anyway? It’s a bit much for hunting.”

“There’s an abortion clinic a couple of hours away in Boston, we’re going to teach those whores to respect life.” And here I was thinking that these scumbags couldn’t get any worse. Kenny sighed and popped the trunk, revealing the crates of guns, that all had the firing pins removed making them useless, but assholes one through four didn’t need to know that. “Alright, take a look. What do you think?”

“I think... That we just got an arsenal for FREE!” All four aimed their newly attained weapons and... Didn’t fire. “Really? Did you honestly think I’d put ammo in there? Whatever, FBI YOU’RE UNDER ARREST!” They didn’t even have time to start running before the most wanted unit, Maggie, SWAT, and LEO’s had burst out of the trees, guns raised.

Fucking morons.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Hey man, how’d the bust go?”

“Great, we arrested the head of the local faction of the KKK and his minions, apparently. You know, the second the guns were in their hands they tried to blow me to pieces. They thought we, or Anderson rather, would have them all loaded up for them so they could make away with the guns and the cash. You should’ve seen them when they were arrested, they were genuinely surprised that their plan didn’t work, and that no one wanted to hear their bigoted crap. And Anderson’s ex-wife decided to take in all four of Karnstein’s kids, those he had with her husband and brother, which is great because we were worried about what was going to happen to them, but she said she just wants to keep all the siblings together and that’s an example of sainthood if I ever saw one. And before you ask, yes, Maggie’s fine.”

“I’m getting a little predictable when it comes to her, aren’t I?”

“A bit, yeah- hold on one second... I’m back.”

“What was that?”

“I got another call.”

“From who?”

“Zadie.”

“The girl you’re dating who happens to be the roommate of your best friend and the girl you’re in love with?”

“... Shut up.”

“Hahaha no. Look, we’re both idiots, all three of us were until Halstead figured out how to get off. I can’t talk to Maggie about how I feel, not yet and maybe not ever. Losing her husband left horrendous scars and she needs me to be her partner and her friend, she doesn’t need to deal with how I feel. But you and Hana? You could happen, you could talk to her, I know that you spoke with her about your PTSD and she’s told you about serious things in her life and herself. Both of you have a trust and bond that doesn’t need to be tested. It’s tried and true. You don’t deserve to be miserable, drowning yourself in distractions and being a distraction. Just promise me you’ll think about it.”

“Okay, I will. And for what it’s worth, I don’t think you and Maggie are as far away from each other as you think. She talks about you all the time, she told me so many stories about you two in the field. She trusts you implicitly, and the face she makes when she talks about you... There’s nothing platonic about that. So you need to think about talking to your girl and moving forward too, okay?”

“Yeah, okay.”

“Am I really not your favourite blonde anymore?”

“Haha, no you’re not, sorry.”

“You knew her for like three days!”

“Eh, still.”

“I hate you.”

“No you don’t.”

“... No, I don’t. But... Maggie told me about the clown fairy princess and I’m gonna tell Halstead about it the next time I call him, which we’ll be in an hour cause I want to catch him before he goes to work. So, HA!”

“Crosby!”

#fbi cbs #FBI Most Wanted #Maggie Bell #hana gibson #oa zidan x maggie bell #maggie x oa #hana gibson x kenny crosby #kenny x hana #OA Zidan #Kenny Crosby #clinton skye #jess lacroix #jay halstead #hailey upton #upstead #zibell #sheryll barnes #One Chicago #Chicago PD

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wordstro · 3 years

Text

[3:08 PM] + naruto/ninja au + “thank you, for everything.”

note: shinobi = ninjas, chakra = energy reserves, yunho x gender neutral reader x mingi implications

your team was always dysfunctional. you should have known you’d never grow out of it. you started out as barely teenagers after all, made to train your asses off since you were toddlers in order to protect your village. they’d left your team under the supervision of some twenty something year old shinobi with unprocessed trauma of his own and expected you to come out unscathed. it’s almost laughable to think your team would end up as anything but dysfunctional.

not to mention the ghosts each of you carried with you from the very first day. you’d grown up orphaned and ostracized, with a cursed demon sealed into you that had been responsible for the destruction of your village and the death of your parents. he liked to speak to you, remind you that that was also why your village ostracized you. sometimes the demonic fox spirit would curl its teeth back and remind you that you’d killed people because you harbored him inside you. frankly, it was fucked up.

then there was jeong yunho, kind faced and handsome and infuriatingly good at everything. you’d developed a small rivalry with the boy, only because he’d grin and call you idiot and you knew if you could beat him then all the whispers would cease. he was the last of the jeong clan. yunho sat there on the first day of training with your team and activated his clan eyes, red swirling eyes born of anger and death, and he said he was going to avenge his clan. he would take his brother’s life for killing his clan in front of his eyes. and you thought your life was fucked up.

last was song mingi, with his jokes and clumsiness and heart eyes directed at absolutely anyone who would treat him with kindness. he’d lost his parents to the demon fox spirit’s attack on the village. he looked at you sometimes like he knew exactly what you harbored. or rather exactly what you’d done, as the fox spirit liked to remind you. he was perceptive, but determined, and he could have been the strongest of the three of you if blood techniques and fox spirits did not give you and yunho an advantage over him.

years passed since that first day, and you are all more dysfunctional than ever. perhaps, you are worse off now then you were before. perhaps it was the invasions from enemy villages, the kidnapping and demon extraction attempts made on you, the broken limbs and broken hearts, the reappearance of yunho’s brother and the deep seated anger that reappearance brought out of yunho. with the realization that he was still not strong enough to avenge his family and kill his brother, yunho’s kindness melted into a rage that ate away at everyone and everything. mingi tried to keep you all together. but yunho tried to tear you all apart.

maybe your team's destruction was inevitable.

it’s why you find yourself here now, at the great valley of shinobi, face to face with your self proclaimed rival-turned-best-friend, the demonic fox spirit inside you keening for the chance to be unleashed.

yunho stands across the valley, tendrils of inky black spreading across his skin, over his face, down his arm, reddening his eyes. the curse mark. he’d gotten it during your first exam years ago. you still had no idea how it happened. one moment he was fine and the next he was knocked unconscious over mingi’s shoulders, and when you’d asked mingi what happened, mingi merely curled his fingers into tight fists at his lap and shook his head, wordless. the only explanation you had was watching yunho nearly murder neighboring shinobi during the exam's second round matches.

now, mingi stands at the bottom of the valley, his head tilted upwards, watching both of you. he kept a distance, but he could hear them. he needed to watch them, even when you'd selfishly suggested he stayed back.

he’d mentioned once, in the quiet of an evening post-mission when the three of you were settling into bed with bruised limbs and a deep exhaustion, that he hated how useless he felt in your presence. it wasn’t fair that you had seemingly endless chakra reserves and yunho, well, he was merely perfect in every way. it wasn't fair how weak he was compared to both of you, how he would always be a step behind no matter how strong he got. yunho with his clan techniques and clan eyes and you with your endless chakra and strength. this was before yunho had gone mad for his vengeance. he’d reached out and pressed a hand to mingi’s and said, “you could never be useless. without you i would have died in that forest.”

you’d nodded, whispered, “if anyone’s useless it’s yunho. what kind of shinobi almost dies in a forest?”

yunho tossed his pillow at you and mingi let out a small, choked laugh at your shriek. you’d wiped at his tears, patting his cheek, and yunho rubbed his back, with that kind smile you’d started to mind a lot less.

you tear your eyes from the mouth of the valley, from yunho, from your thoughts of the past, focusing on the here and now.

“you’re really going to desert the village? after everything?”

yunho tilts his head and there’s a familiarity in his smile. he’d look at you like that sometimes, when you’re all trudging back from a mission or after a particularly grueling training session where you’d sit up from where you lay on the dirt, making grabby hands for water, and yunho would toss you his water bottle, laughing quietly when it’d slip past your fingers and hit your chest. he’d look at you with affection. like he was fond of you.

“it’s the only way i can get stronger and achieve my goal.”

yunho’s voice echoes, the curse mark growing larger as it encompasses his face.

“this place is a distraction.”

“bullshit and you fucking know it. we’ve been good for you. if you'd just take your head out of your ass for one moment, you'd see that.”

“let me specify,” he bites out, “you are a distraction.”

“yeah fucking right.”

“and useless,” he spat, unkindly, uncharacteristically. his eyes darted to the mouth of the valley, where mingi crouched, close enough to listen, “both of you.”

he hadn’t thought that when he’d take you and mingi to eat ramen after a long day of training. he hadn’t thought that you were useless when he learned of the beast inside you and his eyes changed, for both better and worse, when he decided he needed to surpass you too. he spent years building mingi up, holding his hand after missions gone awry and reminding him that he was everything but useless, that it was hardly fair for him to compare himself when his strengths lied in chakra control. he spent years sparring you and nodding appreciatively whenever you’d thoroughly kick his ass. if he really thought you useless or a distraction he would never have taken his time to bandage up your wounds after particularly bad missions. he was destroying everything he had here, at home, for his futile vengeance. you could imagine mingi's hurt at his words, even without looking at him. the same feeling, the same hurt, coursed through your veins, consuming you. the demon fox spirit inside you fed off it.

“i’m not letting you do this, yunho. once you step out of this valley, they’ll put you in the bingo book. you'll have a reward out for your head. you’ll be a deserter...a traitor. they won’t let you come back, yunho. you'll ruin your life.”

“you won't let me?" he ignores everything else you say and you notice. he glares, "who are you to make decisions for me?”

“your best fucking friend.”

“that’s useless too. it’ll just make me weak. it's already made you weak. look at you, on the verge of tears. look at mingi.”

you grit your teeth. you want to yell at him, tell him that you and mingi have made him stronger, just as yunho and mingi have made you. friendship, bonds, were not weak. it was not useless. love was not weak.

but you were always bad at speaking your feelings. you worked better with your fists. every disagreement you've ever had with yunho was resolved on the training fields, with well placed punches until you were both too exhausted to move. there was a reason why mingi was the heart of your team.

you clench your fists, before raising them, steadying your chakra, readying yourself. you bite, “i’ll drag you back if i have to.”

yunho laughed, and it was still the same loud laugh you’d grown accustomed to. you glare as he calls, “i’d love to see you try, idiot.”

the demon fox inside you jeers in anticipation. you shoot forward and yunho laughs as he grabs you by the neck, shoving you down and into the mouth of the valley. he moved faster than he ever had before. you vaguely hear mingi shouting at both of you, blood rushing to your ears. you fight, and you bleed, and yunho does not back down. he gathers electricity at his hands, striking midair, and you gasp, tumbling before you steady yourself, moving just as quickly. yunho does not relent, even when mingi steps in.

mingi gathers chakra, eyes determined, but yunho is too fast for him. with his cursed mark energy, he moves faster than even you can track, and his clan eyes make it worse. yunho clamps his hands around mingi's throat and you don't hear what mingi says to him, you just see mingi's mouth moving and yunho's brows furrowing as he stills for a moment. and then yunho blasts mingi into the side of a cliff with a sickening crunch. mingi crumbles into a heap and that spurs you into another wave of anger as you pummel yunho, screaming at him. how could he hurt mingi? he swore he never would. you were fair game, but mingi was different. you both decided that from the moment your team was formed.

he turns into a cursed beast with skeletal wings and black eyes and fangs. his clan eyes spin. he is ruthless. you turn into the demon fox spirit. it salivates at it's chance to be released.

still, in the end, you lose.

-.-.-.-.-

your vision is a blur as you heave for air, your sides burning with each breath. the demon fox inside you growls at you to get up but you’ve used up all you chakra. you vaguely make out yunho slumped over you. he stumbles to his feet, dragging an unconscious mingi to your side.

he looks between you both, the moon framing his slumped form.

“don’t,” you breathe, voice raspy, stilted, “please yunho, don’t go.”

he looks down at you as if he is committing you to memory, even like this. his gaze flits to mingi and he does the same, before he tilts his head up, closes his eyes. his jaw clenches. then he looks at you.

“thank you, for everything,” he says with a quiet finality.

your vision blurs, and you’re fading, but you still try to get up, to move. you’re too weak for any of it. he watches you struggle for a moment, before he turns and he walks away. he leaves you.

later, mingi sits by your bedside in the hospital and you murmur to him, “i swear i’ll bring him back.”

“no,” he reaches out and squeezes your hand, “we’ll do it together.”

#ateez #ateez scenarios #ateez angst #yunho angst #mingi angst #yunho #song mingi

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falcor-thee-luck-dragon · 4 years

Text

What a Time to be Alive- Diego Hargreeves x reader Season I

Chapter 10- The White Violin Part 2

Summary: After a less then stellar time at the bowling alley, you and the Hargreeves must find a way to stop Vanya during her concert tonight, doing whatever it takes.

Masterlist - where all the other chapters are⚔️

Warning: Reader gets stabby again, enjoy

Tagged: @sambucky8 @white-wolf-buckaroo @2cuteforyourlies @la-vie-en-amour1 @fandomoverlord221 @thatfandombitcch @alonewolfsblog @starrrybarnes @winterboobear11

Maneuvering your way out of the ball gutter area, you stumble a bit while getting out, a steady pair of hands catching your waist before you can face plant into the concrete. “Y/N, you cant keep falling for me in front of my family, it’s getting embarrassing.” Quips Diego breathlessly, lifting you up to face him, “Hilarious.” You deadpan, pulling away and readjusting your blood spotted jacket. His face shifts to that of a concerned boyfriend in an instant, “You were shot...look...a bloody hole in your thigh.” He says pointing towards the damage, you feel the fabric of your black jeans. The small hole is indeed wet with your blood, you let out a snort, you never even felt it. “Huh..the bullet must have went straight through. Didn’t even know.” You whisper, shaking your head, how you managed to completely ignore the shot, still surprises you, but now is not the time to think about it.

“Shit! We gotta go!” You tell Diego as you start jogging down the hallway towards the exit. He follows close behind, as more bullets rickashay off the cement walls in the background.

——

It’s a short sprint to the Icarus Theater but fortunately the five of you make it. No personnel is waiting outside to take your tickets and the doors happen to be unlocked. Guess they weren’t expecting highly trained childhood superheroes to come barging into a theater to stop their sister from causing the apocalypse. It could have happened to anyone really.

You race up the marble staircase, the other Hargreeves rushing up behind you. The beautiful sounds of an orchestra are floating on the air and into your ears, you’d be thoroughly enjoying it, if not for the dire situation. Suddenly Allison puts a hand on Luther’s large chest, stopping him with what she just wrote down on her notepad. You halt in your tracks, Diego sidestepping you so he won’t crash into your back as he turns around as well. I need to go alone. Is what Allison wrote, Luther’s blinks in confusion, “Wha...Allison, I can’t let you do that, all right? She’s beyond reasoning.” He argues firmly, she stares at him defiantly.

“You hear the music? It’s started.” States Diego, implying everyone needs to hurry up and take action now. You can’t help yourself and snort, “Yeah...we got ears.” You whisper sarcastically, he just rolls his eyes at you while holding in a smile, probably not the best time to be a smart-ass but stressful situations and use of sarcasm is how you cope.

“Do you honestly think she’s gonna listen? After everything that’s happened?” Continues Luther, trying to reason with a pleading Allison who just wants to save Vanya from herself.

“We don’t have time for this.” Says Klaus nervously, Luther finally caves and off Allison goes, racing towards the doors to the concert. The four of you watch her bound up the carpeted steps, “You’re using her as a distraction, aren’t you?” Says Diego to Luther, already onto his plan.

“Our best chance to incapacitate Vanya.” Luther replies glancing at Diego. You cross your arms, “Maybe if we leave her alone she won’t do anything and after the concert we can sort this shit out. I highly doubt Vanya’s in the mood to see any one of us right now....Especially you, she hates you the most” You explain to them, Luther furrows his brow at you. “Thanks. But we can’t risk Vanya accidentally doing anything dangerous.” He tells you, you turn to him. “Now you sound like Reginald, great.” Luther gives you an offended look, before deciding otherwise in arguing further with you. He makes for the stairs, as Klaus follows behind, Diego nudging you to follow them. “So, what’s the plan?” Wonders Klaus, as Luther stops on the steps to answer him. “Uh, you wait out front.” He tells Klaus, as you and Diego walk through the open doorway, you don’t care enough to stick around and listen.

You follow Diego through hallways and finally you make it backstage, Luther appearing on the opposite side of you two from across the stage. “I’m just throwing leaves in the wind here, but how is this an honestly good plan?” You whisper yell at Diego, he stops to look at you, who’s to his left. Your face is glowing in the red stage lights, making you look like an alluring creature from another world, and for a second he’s lost in your beauty. You’ve unintentionally stunned him in the most inconvenient of places, his heart pounds with adrenaline. “Uh...um...it’s all we got.” He fumbles on his words, not truly sure what to say that would convince you. He already knows you’re not gun ho for this plan anyways, but what other options do you all have. Desperate times call for desperate measures. Or stupid measures thought up by a guy who’s half-monkey, never moved out of the Academy, and lived on the moon for four fucking years.

“God, she sounds amazing.” You mutter to no one in particular as you start to listen to Vanya’s solo, a second later Diego goes racing across the stage exactly when Luther does. “Wait! Diego, stop!” You yell at deaf ears, he’s already throwing himself at Vanya. She snaps around and whips a slash of white energy at him and Luther. Launching them into the screaming crowd, you make a break for it as the other instrumentalists stand up from their seating. She turns around once again to project another powerful wave of force into the orchestra, silently demanding them to sit. You’re unfortunately pushed roughly off stage, harshly tumbling into the theater chairs, you smack into a metal chair, falling to the floor with the wind knocked out of you. People rush past your injured body unaware to your gasping for breath, to concerned with getting the hell away from the weird glowing eyed lady on stage. You don’t blame them, none of them were clearly prepared for how their night just ended.

You stand up, hearing the shouts of Diego and Luther, as they attempt to direct traffic as orderly as possible. Within thirty more seconds the place is completely vacant, you dart for behind some chairs near where Diego and Luther are hiding. “She’s stronger than expected.” Breathes Diego, surprised from Vanya’s impressive display of power. “Yeah.” Agrees Luther, suddenly getting smacked in the face with Allison’s notepad. She throws him an agitated pout, you’re to her right, in the next row over. Shaking your head disapprovingly at him in a half-joking and half-serious way. “Yeah. We’re fine thanks for asking.” He jabs back before continuing, focusing on Allison, “Look, I almost lost you once, all right. I wasn’t about to lose you again.” He tells her earnestly.

“Wow that’s real fucking adorable...but now we’re in a load of shit thanks to you two dunderheads.” You snap at him, annoyed with how rapidly the nights events are terribly going. Luther gives you a defeated look as Diego speaks up, “Well, so much for the element of surprise. What else you got?” He asks Luther, Allison starts to quickly make a gesture of her playing a ghost violin.

“No shit Allison. Tell us something we don’t already know.” Diego grumbles sarcastically, you roll your eyes at him. “She’s referring to the violin dipshit, we need to take it from her.” You sass back, the rest of them glancing over the seats to watch Vanya play. You catch the sound of boots quietly making contact with the red carpeting of the theater. Then a moment later, gunfire blasts through the area, screaming into your eardrums. “Fucking hell.” You mutter through clenched teeth as you hold your hands to your ears, ducking lower to the floor.

“What the hell happened to Klaus? He’s supposed to be lookout!” Shouts Diego from the floor. “Yeah are you surprised.” Answers Luther, who’s attempting to sink to the ground as low as he possibly can. When you look up again you watch as a sudden bright flash of blue appears from out of nowhere, less then a nanosecond later arrives Five.

“What’s with all the lollygagging?” He wonders while walking down the wide isle, completely oblivious to the masked murderers. “Five get down!” Roars Luther as bullets rain down next to Five. He lets out a surprised gasp as he quickly ducks in between the smaller isles. “Five...wha...I thought you bailed on us?” Questions Luther.

“I had an errand to run.” He vaguely explains, looking around wide eyed at the current carnage, “This is not good.”

“You know these guys?” Inquires Diego, assuming this mess has something to do with Five and the wack shit he gets himself into, not to mention the rest of you.

“Yeah, I do.” He simply says.

“And?”

“Well...we’re screwed.” Five announces worriedly, while looking back up the isle at the approaching assassins. He then turns his head to find you who’s watching the masked gunmen slowly walking your way. “Y/N! If you could manage to get one of their guns...then maybe we’d have a chance.” Yells Five as Diego throws some of his knives directly into the chests of more Commission assassins.

“Great idea! Cause I would love to get shot through my fucking scull!” You scream back, sarcasm dripping through every word. You’re fast, but unfortunately there are a grand multitude of guys with automatic rifles who could give two shits if you die or not. You’d make it to your guy, but you’d also be dead before you could do anything destructive, and getting shot is not a very pleasant feeling by any means. But before Five has time to reply with his own ounce of sarcasm, Klaus comes bursting through the theater doors yelling about seeing Cha-Cha and that she’s apparently coming to kill us. Or something along those lines, it’s becoming increasingly more difficult to hear as your ears are ringing with all this noise.

Scrunching up your eyes, you shake your head and cover your sensitive ears in a desperate attempt to collect your bearings once again. When you open your eyes ready to suck it up and take one for the team, you look over with wide eyes to the sight of ghost Ben, who’s releasing the tentacle monster from within himself and presently strangling and smashing the fuck out of the masked gunmen. You share a shocked glance with Diego, the both of you completely astounded as to how the hell Klaus is able to do whatever it is he’s currently doing.

Your nose catches the scent of something you’ve been hunting for the past week, head snapping to the stage, you scowl at the blooded assassin before you. Who’s giving you an equally nasty look that’s practically inviting you to take the bait. Without another thought, you stand up, racing down the wide isle to meet your foe. Ignoring the mumbled yells of Diego and the others, you’re solely focused on ending Cha-Cha once and for all. It takes you less then three seconds to reach her, before slamming her harshly into the cement wall at the back of the stage. She falls to the floor with a grunt, as you slowly walk over to her, eyeing up your prey like a she-wolf to an injured doe. She scrambles to pick herself up, jumping to her feet in an instant, fists clenched and ready to fight.

“You’re good at what you do, I’ll give you that.” You tell her casually, unawares to the fiery glow subconsciously emitting from your irises. She lets out a ragged cough, her eyebrows furrowing in confusion at your eyes color change.

“Yeah well, you’ll have your time to see how great I am at it, and then when I’m done with you, I’ll pay your boyfriend a little visit.” She snaps at you, her voice dripping with malice. You only chuckle at her sad attempt at holding any ground in the conversation.

“If I didn’t want you to suffer you’d be dead already...I’m not feeling particularly gracious this evening.” Your voice is calm and collected as you tilt your head to her, fully enjoying the growing fear emitting from her injured body, although she hides it well. “You’re already half dead. But I’ll oblige and see if you really do know how to kill someone who can’t be killed.” She bitterly sneers at you while you smirk at her, silently egging her on to do something. Your hopes answered as she lunges for you, it’s an easy dodge to the right, as you smash your fist into her left rib cage. She lets out a rasped breath at the sudden impact.

Cha-Cha turns around to let more fists fly violently in your direction, you bring your forearms up to block a hit to your left then your right, then your face and then to your vulnerable chest. You can tell she’s giving everything, as you’re just toying with her. Your fight turns into that of a dance, the both of you throwing jabs at each other as you waltz around the backstage of the Icarus Theater. Her foot cracks you in the side of your knee, sending a white hot pain throughout your body, as you drop to the floor from the sudden jolting impact. She then laughs while taking this golden opportunity to kick you savagely in the stomach. Your vision goes spotty as she beats into you, until you look up to find Diego, watching the two of you from the stage. That’s all the motivation you need, before reaching out your hand to promptly halt anymore of Cha-Cha’s violent advances.

You pull her down, letting go as you stand up to face her once again, a single red trickle of blood painting down the corner of your mouth. When she stands up to launch herself at you, you swing your leg up, effectively smashing her across the head. She stumbles to the floor, dazed at your quick attack. Your steps are fast, as your fists are on her once again, laying into her with all your pent up emotions, finally gushing out in an array of violent brutality. She’s underneath you, desperately holding her arms up to help cover her already bruised face.

You’re screaming with rage and anguish for your fallen friend Patch and everyone else who’s ever needlessly died at the hands of Cha-Cha. Your fists are raw and covered in blood as you rip open her jacket sleeves with each new hit, making way into her bloody arms and face. You don’t notice the tears streaming down your face, when a hand suddenly touches your shoulder. Your head whipping to the side, staring daggers at whoever dare stop you. It’s Diego, he looks at you with sad eyes, staring deep into your glowing orbs of hellfire. He shakes his head while giving you a pleading look, beckoning you to stop your vicious tirade on Cha-Cha and to follow him. You look back down at her through your bleary eyes, blood and purpled flesh adorning her miserable features as she slowly lets in and out shallowed breaths from her pathetic spot on the floor.

You raise yourself off of her, standing defiantly above her like a tired warrior after a long battle. She opens one eye to look pitifully up at your blood spotted face. You step to the side to then glare down at her, your burning eyes meeting her wretched grimace.

“Get up.”

The corners of her lips curl into a wicked grin, as she lets out a strained wheeze, her last attempt at a comprehensible laugh. To your great astonishment, Cha-Cha begins to begrudgingly peel her bloodied body off of the cement floor. Bringing herself onto her knees then to her feet, she’s breathing heavily and swaying slightly, dizzy from the ferocious beating you just gave her. She spits out a wad of blood as her good eye glances over to Diego, who hasn’t moved a muscle, praying that he’ll make you follow him and leave her in peace. You look from Diego then back to Cha-Cha, your face a mask of stone.

“Patch wouldn’t want me to kill you...you know. She’d tell me something wise and how we can be good, even when we are full of hate and rage towards the ones who’ve wronged us.” More tears fall from your conflicted face, running down to your chin as hot and angry little droplets, “I liked her...she was nice and smart, believed in people and was good at her job.....she was my friend...Eudora didn’t deserve a bullet through her chest, but you killed her anyways. Just like all the others.” Cha-Cha opens up her arms, giving you a defeated shrug, she has nothing else to say to you. You give her a weary nod, as Diego comes up to your side, touching your arm in an attempt at leading you away.

“I wish I could be like her...but I’m not.” You whisper truthfully, pulling out a spare dagger from Diego’s leather knife vest, only to plunge it directly into Cha-Cha’s windpipe. Her eyes shoot open at the sudden impact, her hands reaching up to try and pull you away. But your arm’s to quick, you pull the silver blade out of her neck as blood spurts from the opened wound. She tries desperately to cover the damage, but her attempts are wasted as she falls to her knees in despair. You watch her stare on wide eyed at your unflinching form, while she abruptly falls to the cold ground. Bleeding out before your very eyes, your emotions are all over the place and you feel like you’re about to cry or scream or both everything building up and up and up. Diego turns your shoulder to face him, “Y/N we gotta go save the world. Babe are you with me?” He tells you quietly, looking deeply into your tearfully glowing eyes. You part your lips, about to say something but nothing comes out but a heavy stressed huff of air. You’re not entirely sure if you’re about to lose it or not, you’re angry over Patch’s death, you just killed Cha-Cha, and the apocalypse is supposed to happen very soon. Wiping out your whole world, the Hargreeves, and Diego. The one person you can trust with your life, and the one person you’ve loved since you were a teenager. Honestly the only person you’ve ever truly loved.

“I’m with you. Ride or die remember.” You reply, wiping the wetness from your face and giving him back his knife. He gives you a lopsided smile, taking your shaking hand and swiftly leading you to the others.

——

“Oh, welcome back. Where were you two?” Questions Luther, the rest of the Hargreeves closely positioned around him, all of them watching as you and Diego walk closer into the group circle.

“Murder.” You answer bluntly. He makes a confused facial expression and nods, not sure what that was implying but then again with you, he doesn’t really wanna know.

“So how do you wanna end this thing?” Shouts Diego over the roaring sounds of white energy and Vanya’s violin playing.

“We surround her. All right? We come at her from all angles.” Instructs Luther as the rest of you lean in to hear better.

“So it’s a suicide mission.” Whispers Klaus sadly.

“Yeah, but one of us could get through. It’s the only chance we’ve got.” States Five setting up the actual plan, well at least the best one the group could come up with. Either way, things aren’t looking good whatsoever and you’re not 100% certain if you’ll actually survive.

“Are we all in?” Says Luther while glancing around the six of you. All of you nod as he continues to lead, pointing to Diego first, “Stage left.” Then to himself, “Stage right.”

“Allison?”

Diego turns around to race up the isle as Luther focuses his attention on the rest of you, “You guys take the front.” With everything to lose you leave Luther and Allison as you run through the smaller isles next to Klaus and Five, your heartbeat pounding with adrenaline and fear. While Klaus takes the left corner of the chairs and Five takes the right. You jump over a couple rows to bring your way to the front of the theater. Vanya plays on, oblivious to everything that’s going on around her, blissfully unaware in her moment of music and light. It hurts your sensitive ears and the pure light radiating from Vanya is no help either to your hyper-aware senses. You hear the yell or battle-cry of Luther instructing everyone to charge.

You don’t think twice as you jump to your feet, launching yourself over the edge of the stage and bracing yourself for impact when you take out Vanya. Everything happens so fast, a second later you feel like you’re being blinded as the floor and your boots appear to not be making contact anymore. Unless you were just teleported to a zero gravity room, things aren’t adding up. When you squint open your eyes once again, you’re surprised to find yourself and everyone else suspended in midair by Vanya’s energy tentacles. You’re placed in the center with the Hargreeves boys to your left and right. Their faces seem to contort into a pained expression as you notice how Vanya’s sucking their life force from each of you. But due to your rapid healing abilities it’s not affecting you as terribly, it feels like the wind is constantly being knocked out of you and it’s getting harder to breath by the second. Without warning you hear a piercing blast scream through the air, whatever it was, stopping Vanya from hurting you anymore.

The moment of peace short lived as you’re dropped to the thinly carpeted floor. You jolt to your feet once again as everyone races onto the stage to make sure Vanya and Allison are okay.

“Is she alive?” Rushes Luther worriedly as Allison holds an unconscious Vanya in her arms, the rest of you looking on in deep concern while Allison answers with a quick nod much to everyone’s relief. That and the normal rhythmic thumping of her heartbeat a solid indicator of her aliveness, not that they would be able to hear it though.

“We did it. We saved the world.” Smiles Luther with a relieved sigh, the others doing the same. Your stomach twists with the horrid sounds of something breaking from far away. You can’t place where it’s coming from until you turn your head to look up through the glass-less open theater dome. Your eyes widen at the bewildering sight of scattered pieces of the Moon racing towards earth. You slowly rise to your feet, Klaus catching your odd change in behavior, he turns to stand as well. His eyebrows raising in surprise, “Um. Guys? You see that big Moon rock coming towards us?” Asks Klaus, just making sure everyone’s on the same page.

“That’s not good.” States Luther matter-of-factly.

“So this is it, huh. So much for...saving the world.” Sighs Klaus sadly as he looks down at his dog-tags with longing and fond memories. Everyone is standing by now, except for Vanya and Allison who are still seated on the stage floor.

“If only Sir Reginald could see us right now, huh? The Umbrella Academy. A total failure.” Mutters Diego with a defeated tinge to his voice, you look over at him and then back at the destroyed Moon.

“I guess now I can finally see what it’s really like on the other side.” Diego turns his head to look at you, reaching his hand out for you to take, you interlock your fingers together as you smile at him sadly, “I hope it’s nice.”

“At least we’re together at the end. As a family.” Adds Luther, gaining the attention of Five.

“This doesn’t have to be the end.”

The four of you turn around to face him with equally confused faces, all of you doubtful in whatever Five’s about to tell you. “What? What are you saying, Five?”

“I think I have a way outta here. But you gotta trust me in this.” He pleads as Diego, Klaus, and Luther shake their heads and practically shrug him off, all of them extremely skeptical. “Well, then, we might as well accept our fate, because in less then a minute, we’re gonna be vaporized.”

“What do ya got Five. Cause if I’m being honest I don’t really have dying by flaming Moon chunks on my bucket list.” He looks at you with a new found determination and slight relief that someone is willing to listen. “We use my ability to time travel. But this time, I’ll take you all with me.”

“You can do that?” Wonders Diego.

“I don’t know. I’ve never tried it before.”

“What’s the worst that can happen?”

“You’re lookin’ at it. A 58-year-old man inside a child’s body, so there’s that.” Scoffs Five, still annoyed with how things turned out for him.

“Oh, what the hell? I’m in. You in Y/N?” Asks Diego while giving your hand a light squeeze.

“Let’s do this.”

“Yeah whatever. I’m in.” Adds Klaus.

“Me too. Allison?” Says Luther while looking down at Allison for an answer, she shakes her head in agreeance, it appears everyone’s on the same page, even Ben.

“Okay great. Luther, grab Vanya.” Instructs Five as the seven of you gather into a circle.

“Wait, should we be taking her? I mean, if she’s the cause of the apocalypse. Isn’t that like taking a bomb with us?”

“The apocalypse will always happen, and Vanya will always be the cause, unless we take her with us and fix her.” Explains Five to an unsure Luther, the rest of you nod in understanding.

“No man left behind. Now Five get us the fuck outta here.” You quickly add, as everyone joins together to hold hands while Five begins using his powers. Suddenly a bright blue light starts to appear right above everyone’s heads, indicating the opening of Five’s time portal. Diego squeezes your hand again, you returning the favor while giving him a hopeful smile.

“Ah.” Yells Five, working through the pain and exhaustion of bringing seven people into another decade or wherever you’re about to go. You can feel the tingling of electricity buzzing throughout the air as blue and white waves of energy begin surging all around you.

“Hold on! It’s gonna get messy!” He shouts over the loud wooshing sounds created by his time-traveling abilities, your own ears suffering along with it.

You take one last glance at Diego before your vision is taken over by the incredibly blinding lights of the blue portal. You can’t hear anyone anymore and your whole body feels like it’s in a zero gravity room, you feel for Diego or Klaus’ hand but to your panic you can’t feel them anymore. A second later the portal opens up, giving you a good view of a nearby trash can and solid concrete down below you as you’re spit out of the sky in rapid succession. You suddenly can’t see the blue energy of the portal anymore or feel the electricity around you as you free-fall straight into some discarded trash.

#the umbrella academy #diego hargreeves #diego hargreeves x reader #diego hargreeves x you #the umbrella academy x reader #what a time to be alive fic #falcor the luck dragon stories #number two #tua #tua season one

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sorrels-scribbling · 4 years

Text

Run (To Me) || Chapter One - Roommates and Revelations || Douxie x Reader

Summary: Running is all you’ve ever known. Well, maybe that’s not entirely true. One thing’s for sure, though: you aren’t certain what to do when you finally have someone to run to.

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1,763

Tags By Request: @furblrwurblr @alovesongshewrote @einahpetsyarcip @alive-and-afraid

When you wake up, you don’t recognize where you are. You don’t take the time to process the calm energy of what is, apparently, a bookstore. No, you’re in a panic already, scrambling frantically to get out of the blanket wrapped around you, which you mistake for some kind of strange restraint because you just know that things are never so nice to you. With the loud sound of wood hitting wood, you knock back the admittedly very comfortable chair you had been unconscious in moments ago.

When a young man, seemingly about your supposed age, comes in looking alarmed and concerned, you leap back, body tense and ready to sprint at the first opportunity. At the look on your face, the boy’s expression softens, but remained worried as he lifts two hands placatingly.

“Hey, now, it’s alright,” he soothes, like he’s trying to calm a frightened animal. In all fairness, yeah, he is. “I’m not gonna hurt you, just calm down, yeah?”

“Bullshit,” you spit and he takes a surprised step back. “Where am I, anyway? Where did you take me?”

Regaining his composure, the stranger starts to close the distance between you somewhat, movements slow and fluid so as to not startle you.

“GDT Arcane Books,” he answers, tone still calm and gentle. “I’m Douxie.”

You hate to admit it but you feel your muscles relax somewhat, no longer coiled like a spring but still on guard.

You‘re quiet for a long second, looking him over appraisingly before breathing a soft sigh.

“(Y/N).”

“(Y/N),” he echoes with a nod and a... somewhat strange look on his face. But, in a flash, he‘s back to his reassuring smile. He slowly rounds the table between the two of you and you do the same, decidedly maintaining that distance and watching as he carefully rights the chair you had so rudely disturbed.

“Now, I don’t want to keep you here against your will or anything, but you took a really nasty fall yesterday and you look...” he pauses, trying to find words.

“Hideous?” You guess, straight faced and staring right at him.

Tugging at his collar, he lets out a sheepish laugh and shakes his head. “I was going to say unhealthy.” He pauses again. “Not to mention you looked terrified last night. I just want to make sure you’re alright.”

“And what did you want in exchange? Money? Labor? Or maybe you—“

“Woah, woah, slow down! Nobody said anything about an exchange. I just want to help you, that’s it.”

“Why?”

“Why does anybody do anything?”

You lapse into silence, avoiding his gaze and crossing your arms. After a moment you finally notice that you feel safe in this bookstore. You note that your initial panic was probably due to habit, mostly. There, you didn’t feel the ever-looming dread that always licked at your heels.

“...Alright,” you concede after that tense silence, shoulders slumping slightly. “I’ll trust you, for now.”

Douxie relaxes and nods, his smile widening slightly.

“I was just making a pot of tea. Do you want some?” He asks, heading back for the door he appeared from.

You mumble a “yeah” and slowly sit down again, putting your head in your hands as you sit in silence. You focus on figuring out why you feel safe in this bookstore you’ve never been to, why you feel like you know this Douxie guy from somewhere, and why he looked at you so strangely when you told him your name.

When you feel a pair of eyes on you, you leap up again, turning quickly and sending a blast of energy at... whatever it was. The creature yelps and leaps away with a hiss.

“Oh. It was... a cat...” you say softly to yourself, kind of embarrassed at the overreaction.

Douxie’s voice calls from the other room. “Everything okay, Arch?” And you watch as the cat hops up onto the table, glaring pointedly at you before... talking.

“I’m fine, but (Y/N) here tried to blast me to ash.”

“You startled me!” You object defensively, briefly distracted from the fact that this cat talks and, you now note, wears glasses. “Who— what are you, anyway?”

The cat scoffs and narrows his eyes at you. “My name is Archie and I am a familiar.”

“What, you mean like the wizard pet?” You ask, brow furrowing incredulously. Archie places an affronted paw on his chest and glares harder at you, like he could make you combust if he tried hard enough.

“I am a wizard’s associate, thank you very much. I would think you’d know that as a wizard, yourself,” he says before turning up his nose at you and sauntering away.

Okay, that’s fair enough, you suppose. You just drop back into your seat and lean back, running your hands through your hair.

You frown and stare up at the ceiling as you hear Douxie return with two mugs of tea, one in either hand. You watch him from the corner of your eye as he approaches and you tense, but he just places the mug in front of you before retreating to a chair further away from you.

“Thanks,” you mumble, both for the tea and for giving you space. He just nods with that smile of his.

“Would you mind if I asked you some questions?” He asks, leaning his elbows on the table as he lifts his mug for a sip.

You pause, wrapping both hands around the mug in front of you and feeling the heat sting your palms. You find it almost comforting, in a way. Finally, you nod slowly and give him the go-ahead.

“What were you running from last night?”

You sigh heavily. It’s a fair enough question and you’d figured it would be the first one he’d ask, but it doesn’t make you any less reluctant to answer.

“I don’t want to make you talk about something awful, but I’d like to know what I’m protecting you from and if I need to upgrade the wards on the store,” he says, and his lips quirk upward by the end at what you think must have been a joke of some kind.

Finally, you shake your head and avert your gaze, swallowing your shame and croaking out a simple, “I don’t know.”

Douxie hums thoughtfully and you hear him lift his mug again. After taking another sip, he finally coolly says “Well, I guess that just puts us in the same boat. Glad to be aboard.”

You can’t help but snort out a little laugh, lips curling into the tiniest approximation of a smile as your eyes flick up to him. He seems pleased with himself, smiling brightly at you.

“What?”

“Just glad I got you to smile a bit. Seems like you don’t do it much.”

“Oh.”

“It’s nice.”

“Oh,” you repeat, and you feel your face heat up. Swiftly, you bring your mug to your lips and take a drink to try and hide the blush you’re sure tried to settle on your face before setting it down again.

“So, anyway,” he says, leaning back in his seat a little further. “You’re a wizard, too?”

“I guess,” you answer with a little shrug.

“You guess?” That catches his attention and he leans in a bit closer to you, brow furrowed. You shift uncomfortably and look away, shrugging again.

“I’ve never... talked to anyone about it.”

“Really? Then how did you learn to—“

“I don’t remember,” you interrupt firmly, voice raised slightly to punctuate. You curl in on yourself slightly and shake your head as Douxie goes quiet.

“Can you... tell me about that?”

“About what?”

“What you can’t remember. Or, I guess... what you can remember being unable to remember.” He says, seeming unsure of himself. You fidget with your mug for a moment before sighing and nodding.

“I, uh... I remember the 1300’s. The plague. But nothing much before that. And it’s not like I grew up during that time or something, just one day I was... I was awake, looking just like I do now in 1300’s Europe. I don’t know why I’m not dead, shouldn’t I be dead?”

As your voice raises in pitch, anxiety starting to flood you, Douxie reaches across the table to place a hand over yours. Somehow, that immediately calms you. You look up at him and only then notice that you had started shaking, so you close your eyes and slow your breaths until you’re still again.

“It’s alright, (Y/N).”

“Is it, though? I mean, I’m centuries old and—“

“So am I.”

You blanch and stare at him, wide eyed. You open your mouth to speak and then close it again. This repeats a few times before you shake your head and find your voice.

“You are?”

“Nine hundred and nineteen years old,” he answers with a nod.

“So you’re... we’re... wizards are...”

“Biologically immortal, yes.”

You nod slowly and watch as he pulls his hand away from yours, at which point you realize he had been holding your hand that whole time. Your face flushes and you look away pointedly.

“...Okay. That makes sense, I guess.” The both of you go quiet after that, occasionally sipping at your tea but not talking again until both of your mugs are empty.

“C’mon, you still look exhausted. I set you up a proper place to sleep last night, but I didn’t want to risk waking you by carrying you up there. We can talk more about things when you get some more rest.”

You nod slowly and look down at your mug, uncertain of what to do with it until he speaks again.

“Just leave it, I’ve got it. Come with me,” he says, standing up and moving a bit closer to you, holding out his hand. Hesitantly you take it and let him pull you up from the chair.

Then, you follow him up a winding staircase and into what appears to be an apartment behind a somewhat hidden door by one of the bookshelves. Vaguely, you note that he’s still holding your hand but your mind is too busy picking through the other things you’ve learned all of the sudden to linger on the thought.

“Here. I have to mind the shop and all, but if you need me you can just shout, okay?”

You nod and sit again, watching him go before flopping back and casting an arm over your eyes.

You do your best to get to sleep as soon as possible. Something tells you you’ll need the energy for later.

#run (to me)#hisirdoux casperan #hisirdoux x reader #toa hisirdoux #hisirdoux #douxie x reader #douxie #toa douxie #toa x reader #ToA #ToA wizards #scribbles

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venusandromedadjarin · 4 years

Text

For The Cause

Alive, part one

18+, language, violence, talk of death, slight blood, mentions of !suicide, mention of suicidal!thoughts, angst, anger, sadness, injuries, sexual tension, just a whole lot of angry Poe and his sad wife but I promise it gets better, 2.6k words

Disclaimer: This is in no way meant to imply that sex fixes things. It’s just a head canon that I’ve had for awhile and wanted to write out.

If you or someone you know is struggling with suicidal thoughts and depression please know you are not alone and this is a safe space to talk. ILY.

“FUCK!” Poe Dameron’s deep voice makes you flinch as it comes through the headset. You yank up on the controls of your X-Wing, doing your best to fly up and over the explosion in front of you. The Tie Fighter didn’t have a chance against your aim, but Poe’s string of expletives make you crane your neck around, trying to find out what he’s yelling about. You finally catch sight of him, swerving in and out of the asteroid field.

He’s on fucking fire, is all you can think as you punch the joystick forward, praying under your breath that you can cover him before his left thruster blows. His stubbornness makes you grit your teeth as he continues shooting at the Fighter he’s following instead of getting the hell out of your way and getting to safety. Someone whoops through the headset and you see another explosion to your right. Pushing it out of your mind, you force your X-Wing forward, grunting under the turbulence as you blast through the asteroid field, almost slamming into his flaming starship.

“Poe, get the fuck out of my way!” You don’t even bother trying to use his call sign, your only focus on covering his ass long enough so he can circle back to the base. From your count, there’s two more Tie Fighters that you and Red-Six can cover on your own.

The ship whines, jolting underneath you, just as you lock on to one of the two Fighters. A few seconds later, it’s being blown apart by your canons. Vaguely, you hear him yelling your name over the coms as you circle around to aid Red-Six. But all too suddenly, right before she lands a shot on the Fighter you’re both aiming at, your X-Wing starts screeching. The system emits a god awful noise as you frantically look around, trying to figure out what’s blown or damaged.

“It’s cleared, head back, now,” his frantic voice bursts through the headset again and the pilots swoop up and out of all the debris, beelining it to the landing pad on the planet below. The joystick jolts in your hands as you try to fly steady, the screeching continuing to echo through the cockpit. You see smoke billowing around you and finally realize the damage is to one of your engines.

By the grace of the Maker, you’re able to roughly land right before it shudders and explodes on the side. Your X-Wing rocks, the blast making your ear drums ring as you’re knocked against the glass. There’s a lot of yelling below you on the ground, but it sounds muffled as the canopy slides open and someone grabs you, throwing you over their shoulder and scrambling down the ladder before your ship get soaked in fire retardant. You groan, immediately thinking of how annoying it will be to clean it tomorrow. Whoever’s holding you slowly sets you down on your feet, supporting you when your knees buckle from the pain that shoots through your head. Blinking your eyes open, you look up at Red-Ten as he towers over you. His lips are moving, but you can’t coherently hear him so you just squint up at him and shake your head. With shaky hands, you reach up and remove your helmet, holding it to your chest as he continues speaking garbled noises.

You jump when a helmet hits the concrete near you and look up with wide eyes to see Poe screaming at Red-Six, pointing towards you. He’s red in the face, chest heaving as he berates the woman. She doesn’t say anything, just crosses her arms over her chest and sways her weight between her feet. As General Organa hastily approaches, pushing through the throng of people now watching, your hearing starts to come back in bits and pieces.

“Black-Leader, you … scream … fellow pilot … way. If … something too … civilized for Maker’s sake… not her fault, nor … Three’s. That Tie … have shot any … out of the sky … it hadn’t … for Red-Six … have made it back … off … high horse and … wife for being smart … cover you,” she jabs Poe in the chest with her finger, “before risking … for … pilots.”

Red-Ten’s large fingers snapping together in front of your face draws you back to the man in front of you and you look up at him once more.

“… Three … hear me?”

Your voice sounds garbled as you try to answer him back, “Y-yeah. Little bit.” He nods sharply, wrapping a large hand around your elbow and leading you inside the base towards the medical bay. You stretch to look back at Poe and he meets your eyes finally as General Organa continues to reprimand him. His gaze softens when he sees you’re walking on your own right before the doors close behind you.

Thirty minutes later, the Bacta spray has restored your hearing and cured the throbbing headache you had. You’re still sitting on a bed in the medical bay, one of the nurses fussing over your chart as you try to get her to discharge you. “I promise I’m fine,” you huff out, crossing your arms sternly as she tries to prod your chest with her stethoscope. “Can I please leave? I just want to shower and get the blood out of my hair. I already said I’m fine.”

The nurse grumbles at you in another language and you scoff, gently pushing her away from you and hopping of the bed. She finally leaves, mumbling some more. You tightly tie the arms of your flight suit around your waist before slipping back into your boots. Looking around, you make sure she’s actually gone before glancing over your chart to make sure you’re actually fine. Seeing nothing that should raise alarm, you quickly exit the bay and stomp down the hall towards the Officer’s showers.

General Organa stops you before you get there and you snap to attention, your helmet clunking against your knee in your haste. You do your best not to cringe. She waves you off quickly, “At ease, Sergeant. I wanted to catch you before meal time, I’m sure you’ll have a line of people lining up to buy you drinks.” Relaxing a tiny bit, you shift on your feet, waiting for her to go on. “Your flying today was phenomenal. Even with all of the damage, no one was lost today, and that’s a small win, but a win all the same.” She pauses again, before reaching out to gently touch your arm, “I wanted to personally ask if you’re okay, seeing Commander Dameron catch fire before almost exploding yourself… can’t be easy.”

You chuckle humorlessly, appreciating the woman in front of you. You can see the fondness in her eyes, and you hope she can see the same in yours. “Ma’am, I think I did explode.”

She laughs, a light sound that bounces off the walls, so opposite of the noises that are usually on the base, “That you did. Thank you for your fearlessness, Sergeant. The Resistance is lucky to have you.” You smile at her as she waves you off before turning to leave, signaling not to salute her. “I hope to see you at dinner, if you aren’t too distracted before hand,” she calls over her shoulder, heading back down the hallway. Her comment makes you blush as you hastily turn to continue the trek towards the showers.

It’s already humid and the steams rolls through the locker room as you step inside. You faintly hear water running and soft humming, but you ignore it as you spin the lock on your locker before yanking it open. Stepping out of your boots, you kick them inside, the dull clunk echoing before untying the orange sleeves at your waist. You push the thick fabric the rest of the way down, slipping it down your legs before shoving it into the metal cubby as well. It’s quickly followed by your undershirt and shorts, and then your undergarments. Grabbing your towel and shower bag, you close it and pad towards the right side of the showers, not bothering to check who’s on the left. It’s empty save for you and whoever it is. While you wait for the water to warm up, the person leaves and you hear the faint clunk of the locker opening and closing before the main door.

The hot water feels heavenly against your soot stained skin, and you watch as the blood from your hair swirls with the water in the drain. Once it’s clear, you just lean into the stream and close your eyes, the steam billowing around you. The door opens again and a few moments later, someone pads into the showers.

“I swear to the Maker, woman. You’ll kill me before anyone from the First Order does.” Poe’s hands grip your hips tightly enough to leave bruises, but you keep your eyes closed as he berates you for the stunt you pulled, “You could’ve been killed. You can’t always put your life on the line for everyone else. You can’t fly into every situation full throttle without thinking. Even if it’s me you’re flying towards. What if Red-Six hadn’t of shot that Tie Fighter when she did? What if they would’ve gotten another shot off?”

“But they didn’t,” you say quietly, your eyes still closed.

“They didn’t this time. But you can’t do this in every fight. The Resistance can’t lose you. I can’t lose you.” His voice breaks at the end, but his grip stays firm on your hips as you open your eyes, blinking up at him.

“You won’t,” you whisper as you reach up to cup his cheek.

“You can’t keep doing this. It’s like you have no care for your own life. ” Poe’s voice is low, so low you can practically hear the way it rumbles through his chest. Your retort dies on your tongue as he rips himself away from you when the door opens again. He quickly and silently pads to other side of the showers and turns one on, stepping under the stream. You watch as his shoulders heave, his tension visible in the way he holds himself.

One of the ground control crew members enters the shower next to you, flicking you an easy salute and you nod, hastily grabbing your shampoo and scrubbing your hair. You wash your body quickly and turn the shower off, grumpily padding back to the locker with your towel wrapped around you. Not bothering to grab any of your stuff, you slam the door and practically run to yours and Poe’s quarters. You hastily pull on underwear, thick black pants and a t-shirt, forgoing a bra. Light leather boots follow your socks, and then you shrug on a leather jacket and comb your fingers through your short hair, smoothing it down so it doesn’t dry oddly.

Just as you’re about to exit the room, the door slides open and Poe looms over you. He isn’t very tall compared to many of the men in the Resistance, but he dwarfs your small frame easily as he slowly steps in the room, slamming his palm onto the keypad to shut and lock the door behind him. You slide your eyes down his chest, noticing how his other hand is fisted into the towel at his waist, holding it in place. Taking a step back, you don’t meet his eyes.

“Where are you going?” His voice breaks the silence and the low tone of it makes you finally realized how pissed he is.

You finally raise your eyes to meet his, “The tarmac.” Poe’s jaw tenses, the muscle in his cheek jumping as he glares at you.

“No.”

“No?” You scoff, reeling back from him as he takes a step closer.

“I said, no. We’re talking about this.”

“Talking about what, Dameron?”

“Do not Dameron me. I’m not going to keep letting you endanger yourself and I will report you if you don’t talk to me about what the fuck is happening,” he pokes at your chest, stepping forward again. You step back again, the backs of your thighs hitting the bed.

“I did my job. That’s all,” you glare back at him, gritting your teeth.

He almost growls, his eyes flashing with anger, “Your job is not to almost kill yourself trying to play the hero.”

“Oh that’s rich coming from you, Poe.”

He blanches at that, blinking down at you. “This isn’t the same,” he mumbles.

“It’s exactly the same and you know it. Before you married me, you did the same thing. You always threw yourself headfirst into it, not caring if it killed you. It’s my turn not to care!” You yell the last part at him, balling your shaking hands into fist at your sides. Blinking tears from your eyes, you bite back a sob as you sink down onto the bed. He immediately comes forward, sinking to his knees in front of you and reaching out to cup your face, tugging gently until you look at him.

“Please, please talk to me,” he whispers, the pads of his thumbs swiping away the tears on your face.

“We’re losing. We’re losing and there’s nothing I can do. I can’t save them, I can’t save us,” you shudder, gasping for air as you sob.

He pulls you into him, tucking your head into his shoulder as he holds you on his knees, “It’s not your job to save everyone. We all signed up for this. We all are prepared to give our lives, but you can’t try to commit suicide for the cause. That isn’t how this works.”

“I don’t know if I can do this anymore, Poe.” Your voice is barely more than a whisper, but it reverberates through his mind and he stills, holding you to him and holding his breath. Finally, you speak in the silence, “I don’t want to die.”

Pulling back, he cradles your face in his large hands, searching your eyes, “I won’t let you.”

Your next move takes him by surprise, though it shouldn’t because he knows you deal with your raw emotions in the same way he does. You surge forward, kissing him and pulling him towards you by tangling your fingers in his curls. Whispering against his lips, your words make him immediately sag in relief, “I don’t fucking want to die. I’m not trying to die, Poe.”

He kisses you back then, his hands roaming up and down your body, trying to pull you into to him. Poe’s tongue drags across your bottom lip, prodding at you to let him inside, your tongues tangling when your lips finally part. His large hands pull you to the edge of the bed as he kneels between your thighs, both of you just touching each other, like you can’t believe you’re back in your room, alive and unscathed after the close calls just an hour ago. You sigh against him as you taste him -

And then someone knocks on the door. You jump away from him, a hint of a smile in your voice when you yell, “For fuck’s sake leave us alone!”

He chuckles when he hears Finn’s voice from the other side, “If you don’t come to dinner, you’ll never hear the end of it from the squadron.” His boots thud quietly as he walks away and you fling your body down dramatically onto the bed, huffing.

Poe drags his hands down your thighs before standing, “This isn’t over.” He winks before turning to get dressed, his smile reminding you just how badly you want to stay alive and experience life with him as your husband.

#poe dameron #poe dameron x you #poe dameron x reader

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lemonietrinket · 4 years

Text

Coward ||| Chan & Reader

Summary: you and your best friend that have been conjoined at the hip since you were little got into an argument 3 weeks prior, and you can do little to escape it Genres: Angst, but a happy ending with fluff Warnings: consequences of and therefore inferences to a big argument (actual events left vague), one explicit insult, poor language (2x f**k) Word Count: 2,099 Theme: Not a song, but this edit inspired the fic AN: guess how long I’ve had this here in my drafts? September 9, 2019. finally got round to writing it, even though I knew exactly what would happen this is my brain’s bs I don’t write angst super often so, I hope you enjoy!

High school/non-idol AU

~~~

With a sigh you let your chin fall onto your arms. You stared at your own muffled reflection in the glass as you sat on the windowsill, brain in a haze. The cicadas were chirping away below your hunched body, their chorus at its opening hook, and they would continue long through the night—much like the chaos next door.

You supposed, through the thicket of your thoughts, that you should be grateful that the swathes of bodies were just chatting loudly to themselves, instead of screeching to some awful trap beat like they’d been doing the week before. The speakers were playing full blast however, and it didn’t help a single bit that it was one of your favourite songs. In fact, that was part of the reason why you felt so heavy.

Had things been normal, you would have been there, dancing and smiling and joking with anyone who would listen. But you weren’t.

He hadn’t invited you. Your best friend. Didn’t invite you—his best friend—to his birthday party. Over something so petty too.

You could barely recall the intricacies of the argument. All you could remember was his terse scowl, his soft eyes going from sweet to sour in a second, and the words that cracked like a whip and branded you. Your best friend was so gentle, with a heart of gold—you had seen him at his worst once before, what you’d thought was his worst, and even then you couldn’t imagine he could even contain the spite that then flew from his lips. Even if there had been warning for what could come, nothing further still could have prepared you for it.

He’d become a sort of cold vicious, insults thrown carelessly that then cut deep as if they’d been heated in a bare flame. “How can you be such a fucking coward, Y/N?” had been the one that had twisted as it was pulled out. It still snuck up on you, pounced when you thought you’d calmed down, and then left you reeling in unsettled hurt all over again.

It never made you cry though. Not during the day. As night crept over the horizon however, it was a different story, and the cicadas’ call became a tepid siren.

You let the warm night air hold you, as if it would work as a suitable replacement, though you knew it would never come close. Breathing in the night air, you sank deeper into the arms of your jumper. It smelt of comfort, of home, of happiness, and the loose hairs there tickled your nose. It was as if your reactions were on a set delay, as it took you several seconds to realise that it was dog hair that was on your sleeves, and that scent was from the person that had taken the comfort away from you.

‘He doesn’t want you anymore,’ you had to remind yourself, ‘you shouldn’t spare a thought on him.’

But there you were, moping nevertheless, your thoughts practically consumed by him. You couldn’t blame yourself entirely for it, because even as soon as you tried to lift your head away from the memories embroidered in your sleeves, you were still hit by the realisation that you were sat by your bedroom window—the very one that he’d clambered through unprompted years before. He’d been so desperate to escape being forced to tolerate his uncle’s ramblings about roadworks and his pitch to him to get him to come and work at his business instead of music. “Silly songwriting,” had been what his uncle had referred to it as, and your best friend always got a kick out of impersonating the man’s wily poshness.

You used to chuckle every time your brain procured the memory randomly for you. Now, it just stung.

He’d always wanted to do music, and he refused to give in no matter what anyone told him. His parents had always been supportive, and you figured that was partly why he was so determined with it, though the sentiment wasn’t shared with his extended relatives that often visited. You’d always thought he was brave for standing up to them, it was something that you’d always wanted to do to your own for other reasons, but never found the words to.

You caught yourself in the loop, shaking your head miserably at yourself and the situation before you. How were you supposed to move on when everything around you seeped with him? The caps you shared were slung on the bedposts, the mess of homework scattered upon your desk, the guitar in the corner easing gradually out of tune. Even the night itself was his time. How were you supposed to hide away from the night when you’d spent pretty much every other one before with him.

The ember heat of anger rose in your throat, your thoughts spiking at the distaste of how no one seemed to take the jagged loss of a best friend seriously, at least to enough to help you. The heat grew wilder then; it was never directed at him.

With the sun set below the horizon you felt your lower lip quiver and you loathed its tenderness. You’d watched the sunset with him so many times, you could conjure the exact shades of gold and crimson in your head, it was just a hindrance that you couldn’t paint it without his messy dark curls in the corner.

A knock came from the front door, ad you found yourself counting its beats. Three, no sharps, just drawled pauses in between. You immediately questioned yourself on as to why it mattered. But you knew exactly why. Wishing one of your parents was home to go and answer it would not fix the problem no matter how much you yearned it to, and so you convinced yourself to trundle down the stairs to see who it was. It was probably only a delivery guy after all. Hopefully they wouldn’t try and talk to you unnecessarily.

Biting the inside of your cheek and settling your shaking lips into a firm scowl you swung open the door with a warning glare already in your eye.

To your surprise, it was no person holding a stack of pizza or a parcel of any kind, just a boy you knew too well, with his fallen-tipped eyes all downtrodden.

“Chan, what the fuck are you doing here?” you snapped, your hand itching to slam the door straight back in his face. The only thing that stopped you was his bitten lips. You hated how you knew him so well and that it left you vulnerable.

He drew a smile upon his face, but it was too tight-lipped to be convincing. You wondered if he thought you a fool to try and lie, but still you left the door open. “Too many people,” he finally managed, one fist curling in the cradle of the other’s palm.

“It’s your party!” you snarled, your heart’s leniency not transferring across to your words. You watched his lips hammer shut as his sad eyes glanced away, explanations or excuses—how were you to tell—pooling behind his barricade. You let him stew, the vengeful spirit seeking some joy in his utter discomfort and you didn’t have it in you to hold it back quite yet. The weeks he’d left you in turmoil etched across your mind, the insecurities he’d played on that he couldn’t use the ignorance-card for in the slightest too. You weren’t ready to forgive him, but you couldn’t bring yourself to tag a ‘never’ no matter how much you tried.

His response broke through the blockade of his silence. “I realised that I messed up Y/N, and it’s not my party if you’re not there and,” his gaze came back to yours and you indulged him, meeting his eyes and how they glistened, “and I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.”

The vengeful sprite vanished from your shoulder, and you were left without a clue as to what to do. You wanted to forgive him, and he seemed genuine. He’d never pulled a stunt like this before, and you’d known him ever since you were little. But neither could you put his words to bed, and the actions that followed. You’d been to every single one of his birthday parties, you’d been such a staple to him that this wasn’t actually the first time you strictly speaking hadn’t been invited—because there was no way you wouldn’t have been at his side to begin with. But this was a first, and it hurt.

You took in the sight of the boy that you’d refused to even look at for the past three weeks. He looked exactly how you’d left him, only emptier. His shadow grew in the flitting light of the dying day sky, much like the ones beneath his eyes had already done. He was closed in on himself, the subtle confidence he always oozed nowhere to be found. You couldn’t picture his high tone catching laughter tumbling from his lips like this. Neither could you hear those sharp edged words on them.

“I’m sorry, Y/N, I didn’t mean it, it all just happened and... and this doesn’t fix it—I made you cry, and I hate that I did! It... it’s my responsibility. I accept that it’s my fault, and I’m sorry, I really am—”

You stepped from your doorway and took him into your arms. Three weeks was too long of a time to be from them after all, and you couldn’t stand the way the tears threatened to spill over both your eyes and his.

He held onto you as soon as you fit against him as perfectly as you always did, hands clutching at your jumper while he nestled his head into your hair. Your tears dampened the collar of his sweater as you sighed, a staggered breath that only just pulled you back from crying entirely. You focused on him, just like you had done before, only this time it was less painful. You realised he smelt different than before, and it soon occurred to you that it was your scent that was missing. It surprised you to discover just how much of your perfume ended up all over him. It wasn’t like you were super affectionate and cuddly friends either. Your lips twitched into a smile without a single thought discarded.

The two of you stayed like that for a while, swaying before your wide open door as Chan slowly regained his stability. All the midges were probably fleeing inside but this once you didn’t mind. You had your comfort back, and even though things weren’t perfect, you could begin to move forward as things should.

“You better make it up to me,” you ordered, a feeble laugh filtering through.

He sniffed and its stunned you just how close to crying he’d been. “I know, I will, I promise.”

Rubbing his back soothingly, you eased him into swinging gently with the song. It earnt you a warbled laugh, but it meant his usual self was returning. “Do you want to play Mario Kart and see how long it takes for someone to notice?”

You pulled away gently hearing him chuckle awkwardly. Peering up you saw his pink tinged cheeks and wet eyes that he half-covered-half-wiped with his hand. He was the same old Chan you’d known for years after all. “Sounds perfect!” You smiled, helping him wipe his tears with the side of your finger which caused him to sheepishly smile and repeat ‘I’m ok, I’m ok...!’

Unsure how to handle the next part, you ended up leading him inside his second home with an awkward shimmy of your arms. It was meant to be a dance move, but it didn’t look much like one and it barely fit the theme of the song pummelling across the air. It didn’t matter to you though, it was really a test of the waters, and fortunately: it worked.

Your restored best friend giggled shyly as he followed, steadying his breath as he watched you shuffle through your front door. He would make all his words up to you, he vowed he would. They’d all been misplaced, all been resentments with himself that he’d sprung weakly on the first other he found, and of course that was going to be you. He was going to make it right, never let you down, help you with whatever you asked—no excuses—and maybe let you win a few times at Mario Kart. And maybe one day he would finally work up the courage to tell you the truth.

~~~

AN: i wrote a thing! go brain!

[edited: may 31]

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iloveyou3thousand · 4 years

Note

Can you possibly do a fic where Peter almost drowns and it is what makes Tony finally realise how much he loves him?

You got it! I willpreface this by saying I am not a medical professional in the slightest soplease take the methods described in this fic with a grain of salt, it’s what I found online :p

CW: neardeath experience and near drowning.

——————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

Tony likedto think that they’d had plenty of incidents involving water, but then fate orwhatever-the-hell has a hold of life’s reigns rears its ugly head and Tonyfinds himself watching, mid fight, how Peter’s too-limp body gets thrown acrossthe bay, toward the water, and right into the path of an oncoming ferry.

There’snothing he can do, which is the worst part of it. He’s caught up in a wrestlingmatch halfway up in the sky trying to get these enormous, electronic wasp-likecreatures off of him before they can stick their sharp, metal stingers throughhis chest plating. It’s excruciating because this isn’t something that shouldbe holding him back. He should be able to handle a handful of dog-sized buzzers.He’s handled so much worse before.

And Peter’snot responding on the comms.

“Anyone goteyes on Peter?” He sends a powerful blast from one of his repulsors rightthrough a creature’s twenty odd eyes and watches as it freefalls down to theground below.

Several voicesin his ear regretfully inform him that they don’t or haven’t seen him.

As the oneperson who last saw him, Tony realizes he’s going to have to take care of thishimself. That wouldn’t have been a problem if he hadn’t been covered in meancreatures. He already hated those things enough as it was. Why’d they have toget that big? And that….advanced.

Tony keepsan eye on the bay. He fights his way through the swarm around him to get a littlecloser to the water, make sure he can see Peter the second his head resurfaces.The ferry speeds by but it’s going far too slow for Tony’s liking, who is stillholding out hope that the kid must have come up on the other side, out of Tony’sline of sight. That he’s fine.

The passingferry leaves the water restless, and there’s still no sign of Peter. Tony waitsa second. And another.

UntilFRIDAY informs him that Peter is unconscious, and taking in water.

Tony triesnot to panic. Peter’s been through a lot, he can handle more than most peoplehis age, he has those spider powers to hopefully at least buy him some time,right? Right. Except he’s not so sure of himself and he’s not about to take anyrisks.

“Someonehas to get Peter out of the water. Now. Right now.”

Natasha ison the other side of town. As is Clint. Steve is trying not to get stung andbarely managing. Thor is halfway across the galaxy, Rhodey is in London forbusiness, and Bruce is in Zambia to introduce a new vaccine that StarkIndustries sponsored.

If Tonydoesn’t get these wasps off soon he’s afraid he might not get to Peter on time.

He fightstwice as hard. Stingers scratch sharply at the suit’s plating, leaving gashesand scratches and dents all over, and he throws around repulsor beams morecarelessly than before, frankly not really caring where the blasts ultimatelyland. He needs to get to Peter. The kid can’t drown. Can’t go like this. He’ssupposed to finish college and start up his own company and change the future.That’s what Tony always envisioned he’d do, not play Little Mermaid at thebottom of the Upper Bay.

The secondhe sees an opportunity to get out of his personal beehive he shoots toward thewater, asking FRIDAY to locate Peter, and he has him out of there in a matterof seconds, but he’s not sure if it’s enough. Setting all his thrusters to max,Tony flies Peter off someplace safer, somewhere the buzzing doesn’t reach.

Peter’sskin is a pale blue, and Tony’s terrified that he’s too late, but according toFRIDAY his heart is still beating. He doesn’t wake up when shaken and doesn’tseem to be breathing when Tony tilts Peter’s head back and watches his chestfor any positive signs. Shit. Okay. He wastes no time immediately breathing valuableoxygen into Peter’s lungs and initiating CPR when that doesn’t seem to have muchof an effect. His suit peels away so he can settle his hands against Peter’schest and start pressing, his faceplate retracting so that he can speakdirectly to him and so that the voices of his colleagues still fighting thosecreatures far away stop and don’t distract him. He can’t remember the last timehe’s had to do this but FRIDAY walks him through it, sharing updates on how theboy’s doing but it’s not looking up.

It’sterrifying.

He puts hisfull weight into pressing down against Peter’s chest, his own heart beatingfaster as if it’s willing for Peter’s to do the same, inch back from howdangerously slowly it’s working the blood around Peter’s body.

“Karen,keep our boy warm, will you?” He huffs out, and gets a pleasant althoughvaguely worried affirmative. Peter’s suit dries in an instant, and warmth poursfrom it – something that will hopefully encourage Peter’s body not to give upwhile Tony works himself into a sweat giving compressions.

“C’mon,Pete. C’mon now. Not now.”

Tony’shands are shaking when he reaches for the kid’s face, fingers on his nose andchin to part his lips and force air into his lungs again.

He can’tgive up. He’s not giving up. He was supposed to be the one to go before Peter,not the other way around. The kid’s got his whole life ahead of him and Tonyshould have been able to see it all unfold. But Peter’s not responding, andTony fears the worst.

He pressesdown so hard onto Peter’s chest that he’s afraid he’ll crack his ribs, butPeter’s body is resilient while Tony’s panic grows. His arms are sore andaching, his vision blurry as he watches Peter’s motionless face for a sign, anysign.

“You know I’mnot quick to beg but please, kid. Please.”

Petersputters. Once.

“That’s it.Come on. Come on. There you go.”

He pushesdown again, and this time Peter coughs, but he’s not yet taking in any air.

Tonyswitches from compressions to rescue breaths again until he pulls back andPeter takes in a big gulp of air by himself, followed by wet coughing and hisbody turning onto his side, curled around where Tony is knelt on the ground.There’s water coming out of Peter’s nose and he flounders.

Tony wantsso badly to wrap his arms around the boy and squeeze him tightly when heactually starts to breathe in raggedly and reaches for him the second he openshis eyes, like he’s happy to see Tony, like Tony was always the person he’dreach for first when he wakes up from something like this.

In thatmoment, Tony has a million new ideas on how to improve Peter’s suit and heknows that he’ll lock himself in his workshop until the updates are finished,and won’t come out until he knows something like this will never happen again.

The poorkid is crying. Tony reaches down and lies next to him, keeping him in a safeposition while still being able to wrap him up in a firm hug and run a handthrough his hair. He can’t believe he almost lost him.

“It’salright. You’re okay. Deep breaths, I’ve got you.”

Tony’s gripon Peter is firm, his hands trembling despite his best effort not to show justhow shaken up he is from watching Peter lie there, bluish and still and notbreathing at all and…

Tony burieshis face into the crook of Peter’s neck.

He can’tafford to let that happen again.

He can’tafford to let anything happen to Peter, ever again. And definitely not if thereis something he can do about it.

“I’m neverletting you out of my sight again.”

Peter sitson Tony’s lap on the way home. It’s under the pretense that this allows Tony tokeep the boy warm, but he knows it’s mostly so he can keep a hand wrappedaround Peter’s ribs and count his breaths, and feel the steady rush of airagainst the side of his neck every few seconds where Peter lays his head. He’sseen a medical professional, and May has been informed and Tony promised thathe’s in good hands, that he’ll stay with Tony for the night – just so he cankeep an eye on him and have the potentially necessary medical supplies nearby.

Peter ispretty shaken up, but other than that he seems to be doing fine.

Tony doesn’tdare let him stray too far.

Peter’sbeen quiet since the incident, only answering to any questions the doctors had backat the med bay, giving the occasional panicked look when Tony was asked to leaveor whenever someone wanted to talk to him in private. It would have warmed Tony’sheart if the situation had been any different, maybe.

Tonycontinued to reassure Peter. Kept telling him he wasn’t going to go far, wasn’tgoing to leave, wasn’t letting him go through this alone.

“I’m here,”he kept saying, “Don’t worry, kiddo.”

At acertain point he wasn’t sure who he was reassuring more between the two ofthem.

Once home,Tony helps Peter eat something and tucks him into bed after he’s taken atentative shower with Tony right outside the door, but it’s not long beforePeter’s standing by the couch again, looking exhausted but too shaken to sleep.

And frankly,Tony’s not doing much better.

“You knowwhat?” He says, because he wants Peter to get some sleep above anything elseright now, “Let’s go see if my bed’s any comfier.”

Peter goeswithout protest, and when they’re lying down he doesn’t hesitate to tuckhimself up against Tony’s side like he belongs there, and Tony has the creepingfeeling that maybe he does.

He’s neverbeen more scared to lose someone than he was when he realized that Peter wasn’tbreathing.

He’s neverdreaded the realization that maybe he couldn’t save Peter more than he did thatafternoon.

Maybe it’stime to start accepting just how much Peter means to him.

Just howmuch he loves him.

And embraceit in the same way he now takes Peter so readily into his arms, tucking hisnose into the boy’s hair and letting his hand skim up and down Peter’s backuntil he feels him shiver under his touch and let out a soft rush of breathacross Tony’s collarbone.

It’s ascary thought; loving someone so much. But with every breath Peter takes and exhalesacross his chest, Tony’s a little more glad to be able to feel as much as hedoes.

Now all heneeds to do is find a way to show Peter.

He’ll workon that first thing in the morning.

#starker #peter parker #tony stark #irondad and spiderson #marvel #tw near drowning #tw near death experience #it could be seen as shippy or non shippy either works I think?#take this as you like #thank you for the request!!#my writing #fanfic #my fanfic #squishy-parker #replies #squishy once again coming through with the good prompts

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the-l-spacer · 3 years

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Summary: Lloyd Allen is sick and alone at his house. This is unacceptable.

Written for Day 7 of Shaperaverse week, for the prompt ‘Family, Home’ - and is a continuation of the theatre kids au in chapter 1! I had a blast writing for this event. Thank you for reading!!

Lloyd Allen is sick. Like, sick sick. Not the sort where he gets a runny nose and maybe a hoarse throat that clears up in a day.

No, this is the everything-at-once, Chernobyl-nuclear-fucking-meltdown-anthropomorphised kind of sick. He’s hot (and not in the good way that, as Kelis once put it, brings all the boys to the yard). His throat feels like someone attempted to make him swallow hot control rods (to continue the Chernobyl metaphor). About every facial orifice is leaking steadily. Looking at himself in the mirror is an experience akin to staring at the Elephant’s Foot.

To put it sparingly, he feels like shit.

And, he laments, lying on his side on the living room couch, today is the absolute worst day to fall sick.

Through half open eyes, he gazes at the clock hung on the wall, — an old-fashioned thing circled with Roman numerals, because everything about his dad is old fashioned, a trait that passed from father to son — ticking steadily to 10am, when rehearsal is slated to start.

He briefly considers pushing himself off the couch, wrapping himself in a warm coat, and going anyways. After all, they’re just starting to rehearse Janissary in earnest, having almost memorized the scripts and choreography and blocking, and it physically pains him to be absent just when the real work is about to begin.

On the other hand, he can’t have the entire cast be bedridden because of him.

Mulling over his choices, he doesn’t remember when exactly he blacked out, only to be woken up again by the vibrating of his phone on the floor next to him.

Groaning, he reaches out his hand to answer it, and the very action feels like moving through slow, thick honey. He manages, but by the time he brings the phone to his face, the call ends.

The too-bright display tells him he missed a call from Asha.

A slight smile crosses his face. Of course she’d be the first to call him.

He dials back, and she picks up right away. “Lloyd?” Her voice is high and hurried. “Thank goodness you picked up. Me and the others are so worried. Are you all right?”

Try to sound like nothing’s wrong. “I’m fi-achOO!”

Well, so much for that.

“Oh Lloyd, you’re sick?”

“That- that much is obvious, Asha.” He forces the words out through a stuck throat, and is too busy cringing as sneeze-gunk runs down his face (gross) to regret his curt tone.

She sucks in a breath. “Sorry, sorry, god I’m such an asshole. Is it a fever?”

He wants to tell her that the asshole is him, that she shouldn’t waste her breath on someone as ungrateful as he, but all he manages is a short, “Yeah.”

“And from the sound of it, a sore throat and a stuffy nose as well. Do you have a glass of water somewhere nearby? Do you feel well enough to see the doctor?”

“No, and… no.”

“Lloyd- “

“Sorry.”

“- stop- stop hating yourself for one second. I was going to say I can come over right now, if you want me to.”

That’s enough to snap him awake. “NO!” He pauses, wiping his nose. “No. Continue rehearsing, take over for me. I want everyone’s lines fully memorized by next week.”

Now it’s Asha’s turn to be the naysayer of the conversation. He listens, with some grim satisfaction, as she splutters on the phone. “M-me? You want me to be- bu-“

“I’m sick, remember?” He coughs once, for emphasis. “You have to do what I say.”

“Alright, alright. I’ll do my best, and I’ll let the others know you can’t make it. In the meantime, you’re sure you’re okay?”

“Yyyyes?”

“And you’re sure you’re getting enough water? Did you take a panadol? I could get some soup delivered to you-“

The rest of the conversation passes in a blurry haze. He vaguely remembers telling Asha to very much not waste precious rehearsal time by ordering food for him, and was it a fever-induced hallucination, or did he tell David to take over as narrator? Did he comfort the fraught third year until he no longer could, Asha finally stepping in to tell him to rest?

Well that he can certainly do. As Asha says something about sleeping in a cold place, he is already drifting off on the couch. He watches the (decidedly not cold) living room’s ceiling fan turn lazy circles, he murmurs a half-conscious ‘I love you’ to Asha, and he finally surrenders to unconsciousness.

Knock knock.

Knock knock knock.

“Lloyd? Are you there?”

What….

Lloyd stirs, and immediately regrets doing so. His hair sticks to the nape of his neck, and a layer of awful post-nap sweat coats his skin. Yet, despite the warm, stuffy air, he’s shivering, curling into himself, trying to figure out if the knocks on the door are figments of his fevered imagination.

“I think he’s still asleep.” The voices he hears are muffled, but definitely there. Is that David?

“Nothing else for it, we gotta pick the lock. I can use my hairpin.”

“Jill, NO!” His ears pick up Asha’s shrill soprano.

Michael’s telltale drawl comes next. “Doesn’t Lloyd keep a key outside the house somewhere? Was it the doormat, or the flowerpot…”

Lloyd’s eyes drift closed once again, until…

“LLOYD!!!” Two blurs bound toward him, but are quickly yanked back.

“Don’t crowd him! He’s way too warm as is.”

Lloyd rasps, “Asha... ? And Jill and Michael a.. And David? What are you all doing here?”

He feels himself being lifted, bridal style, and pressed against a sturdy chest, can feel the vibrations as Michael speaks. “We’re here’ta take care of our favourite stage manager, of course!”

“But.. you.. Rehearsals?”

“Done and dusted,” David says, hovering behind Michael as he carries Lloyd into the bedroom, depositing him gently on his soft mattress. “It went… not terribly, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

“Pfft, Davey here’s bein’ waaay too modest. As you predicted, he makes a pre-tty awesome narrator.”

David opens his mouth to protest, but Michael shushes him. “Go, set up the Switch so our boy Lloyd has somethin’ to entertain himself with once he’s feelin’ better.”

The obliging theatre techie in David wins out over his self-deprecating side, and he obediently trots off, leaving Michael in the room with a rather overwhelmed Lloyd.

“Don’t lie,” Lloyd begins, “was he really…”

“Yes.” Michael fishes out a thermometer from his backpack and takes Lloyd’s temperature. “Woof, 38 degrees. You’re burnin’ up. Aaanyways, David’s a little nervous, sure, I’ll let Asha fill you in on all the specific details, but he’s got potential. A loootta potential.”

Lloyd lets out a breath. “Good.”

“Now less talkin’, more tryna’ get better soon, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Lloyd gives a small nod.

The other boy pats his arm, and leaves Lloyd, giving room for Jill to breeze in, pushing cups of honey lemon and hot herbal tea and instructing him to drink, opening the windows to let the cool spring air in, and twining small flowers around his shelves and bedposts, before finally pulling his rolling study chair over to his bedside.

“Asha’s in overdrive,” she says conspiratorially, “been freaking out ever since the call. She tried to hide it, obviously, but we could tell. She’s, like, super worried about you, so real talk. Are you okay?”

The chamomile tea warms his throat as he drinks, and he finds his voice flowing freer than before. “I’m all right, really. Some irresponsible delinquent in my lit class came in with a flu, which no doubt passed on to me.”

“But you’ve never been sick before, at least, you haven’t been like the entire time we’ve known you!”

“When my immune system is down, it’s down, I suppose.”

Jill’s face pulls in a sympathetic pout. “Oof, that’s rough. Least it’s not anything serious. If it was something serious, you’d tell us, right?”

Lloyd must have paused too long, because Jill leans forward with sudden seriousness, necklaces adorned with tiny silver trinkets dangling in front of his face. “We care about you. I know Michael and I like to give you grief, but we really do. We’ve been friends for years now, and if something happened, it’d be like I lost my- my brother or something!”

His face heats. “Jill… I... of course. Of course I’d tell you. I care for you all greatly as well, even if I don’t show it.” His hand finds Jill’s. “Thank you, for saying that.”

She gives his hand a squeeze. “Just saying what we’re all thinking. I’m gonna go play Smash with Michael and David. You,” she stands up, tapping his shoulder lightly, “rest.”

“I will.”

She leaves Lloyd, a little confused at the interaction, though all that falls away when Asha enters the room, a bowl of hot ginseng chicken broth in hand.

“I’m sorry for being so curt on the phone, just now,” he blurts out.

Asha waves his apology off. “Water under the bridge. Eat up.”

Time passes, Lloyd savouring spoonfuls of soup as Asha sponges him with cold water, giving him a play-by-play of their rehearsal. The details remain hazy in his mind, though Lloyd does chuckle when his friend tells him of David forgetting he was so far downstage that he almost missed his cue and fell right off the raised platform, saved only when Michael yanked him backwards.

“That.. certainly explains why his shirt is hanging off of him a little looser than before.” Lloyd remarks.

Asha sweeps the finished bowl of soup from his grasp, replacing it with a glass of water and a Panadol. “Interesting that even with a fever, you notice how David’s shirt fits on him.”

It’s lucky that Lloyd only has the glass raised to his lips, else he would have done a spit-take. “Wh- what?!?? Who said anything about me staring at David’s shirt?! It’s just a- a casual observation, anyone would notice it!”

Asha grins. “Naturally, naturally.”

“What does that mean?!”

“Nothing!” She says breezily.

Lloyd stares at Asha, currently sending a text on her phone to someone. From the living room outside, he hears Jill snort.

Ordinarily, he would press, but as is, his information-overloaded brain begins to shut down once again.

“Sure,” he says finally.

Asha looks at him with surprise. “That it? You’re letting me off that easy?”

“ ‘m tired,” he simply says, sinking lower into his sheets. “I’ll ask again if I remember.”

Asha busies herself switching on the AC, drawing the curtains so they don’t let in the late afternoon sun. “Sleep, and properly this time, okay? We’ll be waiting outside for you once you wake up.”

“M’kay.” His eyes are already half-closed, watching Asha hover in the doorway.

“I love you, Lloyd.”

I really did say that on the phone, huh.

Nothing else for it, then. “Love you too.”

When Lloyd wakes, his senses come alive one at a time. He feels better than he did in the morning, the medicine doing its work so he’s no longer covered in a cold sweat. His nose is no longer stuffy, and the room’s cool air is permeated with the faint scent of chrysanthemum.

He sits up. It’s properly dark, now, and he can hear faint voices outside.

Gingerly, Lloyd pads out of his room, peeks around the entrance to the living room, and sees his friends, crammed together on the couch, whisper-screaming as Princess Peach beat the shit out of Link on the TV screen.

It’s hard to tell who it was who notices him standing in the shadows first, but it’s David who says, “Guys, Lloyd’s up!”, followed by a responding chorus of cheers from his friends.

His friends.

Is it his fever, or is the warmth he feels rushing through him as they make room on the couch coming from someplace else entirely?

Is him resting his head on David’s shoulder a result of fatigue, or… something else?

And is David tilting his head so it rests on his in turn coming from the same place too?

Later, they sit at the kitchen table, eating soupy noodles ordered in by Michael, and Lloyd wonders if it's the hunger from his previously light meals, or if the food, eaten as he sits surrounded by his friends, is the best he’s ever had?

Is it the thinking of his sickness-muddled mind, or is his house, filled with inane chatter and loud, boisterous laughter, so unlike the cold, quiet days spent with his father, more like a home to him than it ever was before?

And is it his imagination, or is this small group of theatre nerds truly his family? Family he never had, family that disappeared when his mother left?

Even after his father does return, frowning at the mess and noise, and his friends sheepishly clear the takeout boxes and unplug the switch and wash the dirty plates and cups, finally bidding him forlorn goodbyes and get-well-soons, the thoughts don’t go away.

Lloyd pops another pill and heads back to bed, sending a short ‘thank you’ in the main cast and crew group chat, switching off his phone as he sees the wall of responding texts and stickers flooding in.

He settles his sheets back around him, catches sight of evidence that the afternoon and evening truly happened - flowers adding a splash of colour to the space, a scribbled ‘gws’ post-it from David on his bedside table.

Lloyd Allen goes back to sleep with a small smile. After all, the sooner he gets better, the sooner he can return to the theatre. The sooner he can see his family. The sooner he can come home.

#new albion #shaperaverse #paul shapera #sorry i cranked this out at like 1 am and dont have the energy to edit it so #here take it #prompt week was kinda intense but like. fun! never wrote this much in such a short span of time b4 dlkjfas kinda proud tbh

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katnissmellarkkk · 4 years

Text

AN: Hiiiii, alright I’ve been working on this story since I posted my first chapter and, as it turns out, no surprise, this is gonna be longer than I originally expected. Probably like five-ish chapters? I’m not re-writing every chapter or part of Mockingjay if Peeta wasn’t hijacked, just snippets of the essential plotline and events if Peeta hadn’t been hijacked.... did that make sense?

Alright, anyways, I wanna also take this time to say I definitely did not expect the amount of love I received on the first part of this and omg I’m so honored and touched. I really wasn't expecting you guys to be so supportive in this fandom. Thank you all so much, for liking, commenting and reblogging. It really made me so happy <3.

Also if you didn’t read part one and you want to, here’s the link.

I hope everything’s going well for all you reading this!

Also I need a title for this so any suggestions are more than welcome alright buh-bye.

Shattered Pearl

| Part One |

I know I've been shot. I felt it hit me, right underneath my chest. If I didn't vaguely remember standing in the tunnels, appealing to and pleading with the District Two men, trapped inside the Nut, the gunshot of a man standing behind us in the crowd, too cowardly to come closer and confront me to my face, if I didn't retain the image of seeing myself shot on television, I'd swear I'd been hit by one of the Capitol trains that once took me and Peeta district to district.

The thought of the train brought back memories I'd long held close to my heart. I had never spoken of nights shared between me and Peeta on the Victory Tour and prior to the Quarter Quell. Not to anyone. Not even Prim. It felt too personal and too vulnerable a memory to let anyone else claim it. For so long it was all I had to cling to, with him presumed dead and then only seen on Caesar's talkshow, tormented and a shell of the boy with the bread.

I miss him now, as I lay despondently, wherever I am. I feel a jabbing pain right where I predict I was shot, the injury feeling closer to a brutal beating than a penetration.

My mind whirls and flies and wracks itself up and down, backwards and forwards and side to side and somehow I can't remember even a split second where I felt the bullet enter into my body.

I feel my consciousness, my awareness, growing stronger now, slowly crawling in an upwards motion, like I was lying on the bottom of a lake and I'm only now floating to the top.

When my head breaks the surface, there's a bright, ugly, glaring light stinging my eyes and my first thought is one of comparison. Does Peeta experience this too, when he wakes up in his recovery room? Do they actually think that'll help anyone recover here, blasting unsettling yellow colors into their eyes as soon as they crack open? Is it their idea of a luxury, since everything and everyone else is so void of color here in Thirteen, like one of Peeta's drawings that have yet to be painted.

"Disorienting, huh?" I hear a familiar—so familar—voice laugh quietly. "I think Thirteen believes the more the lights hurt your eyes, the less we'll use them and the more energy they'll save in the end."

"Peeta?" I mean to murmur but instead my voice comes out in a whimper.

"Shh," he whispers, his voice all gentleness and sweetness now. The teasing, conversational edge is gone. He runs his fingers through my hair, pushing it back from my sweat covered forehead, hoping the ministration will soothe me.

It takes me longer than it should to place, but it strikes me after a moment that his voice now reminds me of a different foreign place and a different wound and an altogether different time.

The confusion. The comforting, appeasing voice. The soft, tender gesture. It eerily reminds me of waking up in the cave, after having bled out from my head, only to find my body weak and Peeta's shockingly strong and the tables turning and him taking care of me.

My hands act to their own accord and cannot be stilled, no matter how comforting Peeta's fingers feel, sifting through my hair.

I fumble roughly with the bandages covering my left side, where the bullet must have hit, and I force my eyes wide open now, in spite of the still disturbing light overhead.

"What am I still doing here?" I ask before I can really register what I'm saying. At his confused and—now I can see his features better, with my eyes adjusting to the brightness—exhausted face, I clarify. "The bullet didn't kill me?" I look to him for confirmation.

"No," he promises smoothly, understanding my puzzlement now. "No, I promise you, the bullet didn't kill you."

"What happened?" I ask, my voice and body both still far weaker than I'm in any way comfortable with. "I think I blacked out after I was shot."

Peeta forces himself to give me a faint ghost of a smile. "Yeah, I imagine that happens when a bullet hits you in the side." He takes my hand in his and begins to softly kiss it, repeatedly. Finally he replies, "you were shot on live TV and everyone in the country saw you go down. Coin and Plutarch decided immediately to spin this and fake your death. But Cinna made your Mockingjay outfit bulletproof. The bullet never touched you," he assures before adverting his eyes as they grew watery with his words.

"Peeta," I start, my voice raspy as it's ever been.

"I don't think I was that scared in the Capitol," he blurts out as if I didn't speak. "Snow knew, he always knew, that you getting hurt would have been worse torture than anything else he could have ever done to me."

"How do you think I felt when Snow and his guards had you prisoner?" I shoot back before I can stop myself. His torture was harrowing enough without me making it all about myself. He flinches slightly at my words but tries to mask it, for my sake, no doubt. I reach out and squeeze his hand, my body's grip embarrassingly lame and in no way soothing. "I'm so sorry you had to see that."

"No," he automatically refutes. "Don't apologize to me. You have enough people putting their burdens on your shoulders without adding me to that list."

I swallow hard now, my memory starting to piece everything together and I remember suddenly that this is the first time I've seen Peeta since Coin's men had essentially interrogated him into hysteria.

I hadn't told him I was even going to Two. I didn't even tell him how long I'd be gone.

And then I got shot on camera. And—as I should have predicted—the rebels used this opportunity to their advantage.

I can imagine what that felt like for him. I remember on the hovercraft to and for the first few weeks in Thirteen. Refusing to eat. Refusing to speak. Hiding in closets and sleeping only sporadically. Picturing every single time I closed my eyes Peeta being beaten to death, Peeta being abused, Peeta crying out helplessly.

I wait for him to blink back his tears again before final speaking. "Can I apologize for not telling you I was going to Two in the first place?"

Something new crosses his features and in place of the fear, the agony, the pain, comes an almost sarcastic, satirical expression. "Please do, Sweetheart."

I roll my eyes instinctively when he calls me sweetheart. He'd only ever called me that in the past to get on my nerves or irritate me. "You sound like Haymitch," I can't help but point out.

"This isn't sounding like an apology for lying."

"I'm getting there."

"I've been waiting for days."

I raise my eyebrow mockingly. "So that's why you're here by my bedside?"

"Only reason. I'm out as soon as I get my reparation."

"Well in that case," I trail off, shrugging—and inwardly cringing at the movement before bringing his hand to my lips now and planting a kiss there. "I'm not apologizing then."

He laughs and I pretend to be put out, which works until I try to cross my arms in false indignation and involuntarily eject a loud gasp of pain from the way the motion upsets whatever is broken inside of me.

Peeta drops the ruse then too and stand from his chair, sitting on the side of my bed to get closer to me. "Hey, it's okay," he murmurs softly, cupping my cheek and turning my distressed face towards him now. "Breathe," he commands genially, leaning his forehesd against mine. "The pain will go away, Katniss, just breathe."

I let out a large breath but it only makes the pain worse and eventually I just grip the hand cupping my face and squeeze with all my might. The lame grip I felt ashamed of minutes before is now replaced with an adrenaline rush of strength and I nearly break Peeta's hand in my much smaller one.

He doesn't complain and begins to rub my back to calm me down. When the searing, paralyzing discomfort subsides, the first thing I utter is, "so if I never got actually shot, what is going on with my body?"

He strokes my face affectionately. "You have a bruised lung. Bruised ribs. And your spleen was ruptured so they removed that."

"So I'm without a spleen?" I realize, my voice raising involuntarily. For some reason, I'm petrified that a whole organ was taken out of my body and I had no say in it whatsoever.

"You don't need it, Katniss," Peeta quickly reassures.

I deflate then, not sure if I feel any better or not. Peeta's words suddenly come back to me.

"Katniss, these people aren't too different from the ones in the Capitol."

Would I trust Snow or his guards to remove my spleen? No. So should I be okay with Thirteen operating on me?

I shake my head, knowing this is redundant and ridiculous. My spleen was ruptured. They'd saved my life. I was being paranoid for nothing and I couldn't afford falsely accusing the very people I needed to survive. Especially not when they likely are what saved my life.

Peeta sees my face contort and the disheartenment etch itself across my features. Still remaining tender and cautious, he leans his own wounded, beaten face down and places kisses against my cheek.

I try to hold off but his lips bring a smile to mine, and even with all the confusion bubbling around my head, all the disbelief and uncertainty, in regards to my feelings towards him, Gale, Coin, this war and the Revolution itself, I still can't help the feeling of hope spreading across my chest, filling my heart up in a way I never let myself consider it could again.

"Peeta?" I whisper then and he pulls back from planting kisses on my face to look at me.

"Hmm?"

"If my lung is bruised, why did you tell me to breathe deeply to stop the pain?"

He freezes for a second, contemplating and considering before a slightly bashful smile crosses his mouth. "You're the healer here, not me," he finally teases. When I smile back at him, he leans in simply, as if it were the most natural thing in the word, and kisses me full on the mouth.

The kiss catches me off-guard but only after the fact. In the moment it feels right and tingly and reassuring and I'm lightheadedly happy and I don't even know what to make of how I feel on the inside.

"I'm not a healer," I remind with very little passion for the correction in my voice.

He laughs again lightly but then bites his lip and brushed my hair back. "You did say that to me in our first games, right? Real or not real?"

I hesitate for a full ten seconds before I respond, my face scrunching up. His words almost seem like an already formed game that no one had explained the rules of. "Real," I finally answer.

He's already elaborating before I can ask. "Finnick came up with it. He said it works for Annie and I should try it. If I'm ever unsure about anything that happened or what the Capitol tried to make me believe, I should ask." He shrugs then, slightly abashed. "It's repetitive-"

"It's actually a really good idea," I encourage, grabbing his hand in mine again and giving him a reassuring squeeze. And he looks at me then and gives me a grateful smile and his eyes are lighter now than they were when I woke up and I don't know where this is even going between us or if it's even going anywhere and I don't know where Gale stands and I really can't focus on my feelings right now because I'm a symbol of an entire revolution, whether I asked to be or not, and it may be selfish or immature, but I push away all my other conflicting thoughts and pull the boy with the pretty blue eyes down towards me.

He goes willingly, wrapping his body to me, only placing pressure on my right side, and I feel his face burrow in my neck. When his lips press to the sensitive skin there, like he's done dozens of times before, I shiver instinctively and close my eyes against him.

For the first time in forever I feel, for a fleeting moment, safe.

Prim and my mom interrupt not too long after that, but for some reason—other than Prim's cheerful smile—they don't comment on the compromising position they found us in.

Peeta promptly moves back to his previous chair and remains there for the duration of the day.

Haymitch joins us not even five minutes after my mom and sister, and he brings boiled cabbage stew from the cafeteria in tow.

"Here you go, Sweetheart," he says with a large smile, looking at the disgusting concoction with excitement now.

I look at the bowl, wishing I had more of an appetite so I could actually feel some desire to eat it. In spite of Haymitch's jokes, the cabbage stew would have been a luxury to me once upon a time, when all I could find to fill my screaming stomach was mint leaves and, if I were lucky, the roots I was named after. "How'd you know I'd be awake?" I inquire, turning the spoon around in the bowl.

"Oh I didn't," my old mentor quickly replies, plopping down in a chair against the wall. "It was for the boy." He gestured towards Peeta, who's running his fingers softly along my spine, inconspicuous enough that not even Prim catches on. "But I figure you deserve it more, since you're the one in the hospital. Speaking of that, why did you two switch places?" He asks, brash and wry.

My mom glares at Haymitch, disapproving of his callous comment, which catches me completely off guard.

My mother usually ignores all chatter between me and Haymitch and Peeta, only chiming in if Haymitch is speaking of something from Twelve that I'd be too young to understand.

I remember then watching Haymitch's tape on the train with Peeta, realizing he and my mom shared a permanent tie labeled Maysilee Donner. I look between them for a hint of familiarity I didn't see before and quickly realize Peeta's doing the exact same thing.

My mom quickly turns back to me, and gingerly but vigoriously, coaxes the stew into my stomach, even when I try to refuse because my ribs ache and using any of my muscles leaves me feeling irritable and shaky and hot inside.

"Just a little bit more, sweet girl," my mom murmurs, forcing me to finish the entire bowl, and it's only when Prim looks at me, the corners of her mouth turning upwards, that I realize my mom had used a long forgotten term of endearment. One that I'd rejected since her bout of deep, delbilitating depression.

I didn't comment on it and I don't think my mother even realized, but I avoid Peeta's eyes because evidently, by the looks of his smirk, even he knew the exchange was rare and hard to come by.

Just as I all but lick the soup bowl clean and my mom's whispering mournfully she has to go back to work and was only allowed to come see me for lunch. I am caught off guard once again though, when she kisses my forehead and whispers, with audible tears, that she loves me so much.

I feel like a monster all of a sudden, for the absolute hell I must have put her through.

I squeeze Prim's hand as tight as I can as she takes our mom's seat and scoots it even closer to my bed. "Hey, little duck," I greet in my most comforting voice. "How're things while I was gone."

Prim, as usual, puts up a-albeit, very weak-pretense in order to make me feel better. "They were okay for the most part." She pauses and bites her lip, contemplating to herself before adding. "It was just hard because we didn't even know you were leaving and then we watched you be shot on live TV."

"I know," I murmur apologetically, because it's all I can do. "I'm so sorry, Prim."

But my sister's shaking her head before I can finish and I swear Peeta and Haymitch roll their eyes at the same moment and if Prim wasn't here, I'd be telling them both off.

"No one's mad at you, Katniss," she promises, like that's my concern. People I love being angry, not people I love going through absolute turmoil. "Just... next time could you let us know?"

I nod automatically, because I want my sister to feel better, even though I'm unsure if I can even fulfill this promise. "Yeah, of course."

Prim just stares at me for a moment. "You're such a bad liar," she finally calls out.

Haymitch noisily laughs from across the room, but Peeta remains completely stoic now, and I want three sets of eyes so I could focus on multiple people at once.

I choose to keep my focus on my little sister. "Prim," I start, my voice still unconvincing. "I just... I never know what's going to happen next, so it's hard to know ahead of time what I'll do. The last thing I want, that I've ever wanted, was to worry you and mom."

"Yeah, but, Katniss," She refutes even and diplomatically. "You not telling us only makes it worse. Finding out from strangers you and Gale disappeared off to District Two on a secret mission with the rebels? Only to watch them fake your death? It was as bad as watching you in the games."

I feel my chest constrict and the breath fly out of my aching lungs as I swallow down the lump formed in my throat. "Prim, I never meant-"

"She knows, Katniss," Peeta chimes in, his hand sifting through my hair once again.

Prim looks at Peeta—with more familiarity than I've ever seen between them before—and then back at me. "He's right. I know you never meant for that to happen but... if you could just let us into the loop a little more, it'd make things a lot more bearable."

I nod, meaning my promise to keep her and our mom more informed now. I squeeze Prim's hand again and ask quietly, "how bad was mom when I was shot?"

Prim's eyes shoot to Peeta almost intractably. But I catch it and I press it before they can pretend it didn't happen.

"What's going on with you two?"

They both look at me in utter shock. Or is that the look of getting caught keeping a secret?

"Nothing," Prim immediately covers. Peeta, on the other hand, doesn't react so quick, and instead chooses to just shut his eyes to avoid looking at me.

There's something more going on that they want to avoid telling me. And instinctively, I don't think it's about my mother. Even without him meeting my glance, I can tell Peeta's embarrassed about something.

"Prim," I say evenly. "You're a worse liar than I am."

"You actually are, kid," Haymitch adds. "Didn't think that was possible."

"What happened when I was shot?" I ask again, my voice closer to a threat than a comfort now.

"Let it go, Katniss. It's not important," Peeta urges, his own voice more worn and irritated than I'd heard it since the last games.

"When has she ever let something go?" Haymitch ponders, unfazed by our whole exchange.

"Katniss," Prim starts but I cut her off. I can tell she was going to placate me, like getting shot turned me into our mother.

"As your older sister, you're not allowed to lie to me."

"C'mon now, Sweetheart. That's not being fair."

"Then you tell me, Haymitch. What happened when I was shot that they don't want me to know?"

Our old mentor sighs deeply but I can tell he's relenting. If I couldn't see the resignation on Haymitch's face, Peeta's whole body tensing up in anticipation would be a dead giveaway.

"The boy had a meltdown when you were shot," Haymitch finally states. He gives Peeta a long, measuring look before continuing. "He basically went ballistic and lost his grip on reality." He moves his eyes to train them on the floor of my hospital room. I know he's trying now to avoid Peeta's furious eyes, full of betrayal.

"What?" I turn and look at the boy beside me, remorse overtaking my entire being. I reach out and touch his face but he won't look at me, even when I try to force him.

"He was frantic for days. Couldn't tell the difference in reality and the lies the Calitol fed him. He was only released probably an hour before you woke up. So I guess you guys have good timing," Haymitch adds, trying too hard to lighten the mood.

"Peeta," I whisper after a beat, pleading with him to just look at me, talk to me, but to no avail.

"Peeta, talk to her," Prim begs on my behalf.

"It wasn't that severe," he finally states, his voice extremely muted now as he speaks in a hushed tone, only to me. "I didn't want to tell you because you don't need anything else on your plate. Especially not about me. And it was barely worth mentioning."

"I think it was worth mentioning," Prim chimes and Haymitch points at her and nods.

"She's got better sense than both of you."

Peeta ignores Haymitch. "Prim," he groans with an air of affinity that still boggled me. "Stop. It was fine."

"You were so upset though. And she should know, since she's the one the Capitol wanted to hurt when they tortured you," she advocates, impressing even me with her reason. "And I think we should all stop lying," my pure-of-heart little sister tacts onto the end.

Haymitch nods affirmatively towards Prim again, and I see something akin to wonder now in his eyes as he looks at her, and it takes no more than common sense to realize he's imagining life with Prim as his victor and how much easier that would have been.

"I just don't think now is the time to be talking about this, Prim," Peeta tersely states.

I can't help but interject now, after having witnessed their exchange this whole time, "I'm sorry, but do you two know each other?"

A look is exchanged between all three of them and I'm so tempted to ask if they'd like me to leave so they can freely converse in private. Finally Prim informs quietly, "me and mom were there with Peeta when he got upset. He actually helped mom because she had somewhere to focus all her own emotions. You know how she is, Katniss. When things get rough, she puts all of herself into her healing."

"Glad of be of service," Peeta mumbles despondently and I can see in his troubled eyes, he's blatantly ashamed of himself.

"Peeta," I murmur softly, taking his hand against his will—he tries to fight me from even picking it up—and bringing it to my lips.

He sighs deeply and offers me a half smile. "My being a lunatic doesn't disturb you?"

"Of course not," I quickly dispute. My mind is still processing all of this though. "So you and my family... bonded after I was shot?"

Peeta outwardly groans, dropping my hand. "Let it go, Katniss."

"I just never considered it a huge connecting technique. You know, I could have gotten shot a long time ago-"

"That's not even funny," Peeta chides and there's nothing humorous in his voice now.

I shut up instantly, feeling the mood of the room drop. Even Haymitch falls silent and adverts his eyes to the floor.

"I'm sorry," I finally whisper and I don't know who I'm apologizing to, Peeta or Prim. I'm know I'm not saying sorry to Haymitch, who is still lolled in his chair across the room. Although maybe I should, since he was undoubtedly as scared as the rest of my family. Not that he'd ever admit that to me.

Peeta shakes his head and his expression softens. Leaning in closer, he gently brushes his lips to my cheek, very lightly and very chaste, considering Prim's proximity.

"Just don't lie to us again," Prim pleads, taking my other hand firmly. "No matter how much you want to protect us."

I nod obligingly, maybe more to relieve my guilt than anything else but I do actually mean my promise. "Okay," I swear.

Peeta pushes back my hair soothingly before running the back of his hand over my cheek. "Okay," he finally repeats, only loud enough for me to hear.

And I know then that he's forgiven me.

///

Within an hour, my mom, Gale, Boggs, Plutarch and my doctor all join the party inside my hospital room.

"Isn't there a limited amount of people allowed in one room?" Haymitch retorts gruffly, unhappy about being squished into the corner and unable to spread out the way he was before.

"Oh there usually is," Plutarch confirms, his tone more joyful than I find appropriate, given my situation. And the state of the rebels now. "But I asked Coin to make an exception for Katniss."

"Can Coin make an exception and give Katniss a bigger room?" Gale mumbles under his breath.

I laugh at his sarcasm and his disgruntled expression. We'd made amends on the way to District Two, not wanting to be in potentially dangerous territories and still on the outs with each other. I expected the issues that made us clash—and whatever feelings that still lied between us—would all come to a head once we returned to Thirteen, but we unexpectedly took longer than anticipated in Two and now I was wounded. And even Gale can't deny he was scared out of his mind when I went down. Even he isn't in the mindset to wrangle with me.

I squeeze Peeta's hand in my own and pretend I don't see Gale's envious eyes staring at our interconnected limbs. I don't feel the same guilt I usually do when it was apparent Gale was upset by me and Peeta, and I wonder, idly, in the back of my mind, if this isn't because of the morphling I'm pumped full of.

My doctor is one of the same people who checked Peeta out after he was rescued and I realize I don't even know his name. It doesn't seem like I'll learn it now either, as he barely speaks. I'm half inclined—though I know it's impossible—to think my own mother is the one who operated on me, from the lack of insight the man provides.

In any case, the doctor doesn't seem concerned in the slightest about me and slips out of the room as soon as Plutarch shifts the conversation in a new direction.

"So, I was wondering," he starts, his face still much too happy to completely sit right with me. "Maybe if you'd be up—once you're out of bed and recovered, of course—to film a propo?"

I just stare at him blankly, wondering how on Earth he expected me to have any desire to film anything right now, while I'm still currently getting pain relievers pumped into my veins.

He misreads my expression and quickly adds, "Of course Peeta would be in it! The Star-Cross Lovers need to be shown reunited. I feel that could help with the cause immensely—"

He keeps talking but I automatically tune out his chirping voice as he prattles on. I can see his vision now. The Mockingjay Lives splayed across the screen, me and Peeta wrapped in an embrace, my voice loud and strong, announcing that we're going to keep fighting to the end.

I'm not the only one looking at Platurch like he's grown a second head. The only person who's not looking at the man with distain or disbelief is Haymitch, who's expression is either mildly entertained or filled with such incredulity that he looks like he's grinning.

Peeta's reaction is much stronger than I expect and it's only after he looks like he's grown nauseous from disgust or is planning on throwing something at Plutarch's joyous face, that I realize Peeta has no real experience with the Gamemaker.

He was in the Capitol the entire time I've really gotten to know Plutarch and the man's antics must seem completely foreign to Peeta.

I squeeze his hand before he can say anything and shake my head in Plutarch's general direction. He isn't harmful and I don't want Peeta to waste the energy he needs to recover.

But he has trouble swallowing down his obvious repulsion and his hands begin to shake and his eyes are far angrier than I would have expected in these circumstances a few months ago.

It's my mom who is murmuring about Peeta needing to check in with his doctors and how she'll walk him down there and she waits expectantly for him to get up and part of me faintly envies him for some reason. And I realize quickly that it's the way she talks to him—it's the way she speaks to all patients of her's, really. It's a firm tone, that's still kind but is very direct. Maybe a little authoritative and unyielding. And I realize at once it's a tone I almost never heard again after my dad's death and I took over caring for the family.

And I miss it. Despite everything. Despite my lack of trust in her and my fear she'll retreat back into her shell one day and leave me and Prim behind all over again. Despite my instincts to never put my faith in my mother again, a big part of me still misses the days when she parented me.

Peeta sighs, seeing through the ruse, and kisses my nose before heading out the door behind my mother.

Plutarch follows too, blatantly unaware of what he set into motion, and saying he was needs to review the film of the other Victors for their propos. I'm still appalled he wanted to parade me out while I'm lying in a hospital bed, but I do feel a bit more at ease knowing it's not just me and Peeta he wants to exploit for the sake of the rebellion.

I wished to myself I could actually go to where the fight was. That I could actually have a shot of getting close enough to really be involved in taking down Snow and his supporters, rather than being filmed as a icon to motivate other people to fight in this war.

I kept this to myself, as my even being in this bed was proof of what happened when I was a more central part of the fighting. And even then, I somehow managed to get shot while they were essentially using me as a talking piece for the other soldiers.

But there was something else on my mind and I turned to focus onto Gale now. Only he, Prim and Haymitch remained in my room and Prim was telling my old mentor about the medical uses of alcohol. I don't know what she planned on accomplishing with that, but it worked as a diversion for me at the moment.

"Okay, so what happened?" I press Gale in a hushed voice when I know Prim isn't listening. He gives me a quizzical look and I quickly clarify. "With Peeta and my mom and Prim?"

Comprehension fills his eyes and he sighs before continuing. "I wasn't there for the beginning. Obviously. I was with you in District Two. But I know that he was watching TV when you were shot, and he completely lost it. Apparently it triggered some kind of flashback to something they used to do to him in the Capitol. He was still yelling when we arrived back. I heard it when I passed his room while you were in surgery. Whatever Snow did to him-"

He's promptly cut off by a new but familiar voice joining the room now. "Ah, yes," Johanna Mason shoves back the curtain separating my cubicle from the one next door. Her's, I guess. "Fond memories you mention, Handsome." She winks at Gale. "One of Snow's favorite methods of torture. The old 'make Peeta watch a thousand fabricated video simulations of Katniss being brutally murdered, on repeat. Don't let him sleep. Beat him. Water him down and beat him some more. Make him watch the Katniss Dying Simmulations again', until he can't even tell you what's real and what's not."

I just stare at her, my heart sinking in my chest rapidly. "What?" Is all I can manage to say, my mouth drying up fast.

"I mean, there were worse forms of torture Snow and his men liked to use on me and your fiancé, but I was told you needed to be kept in the dark about those," she state cheekily, obviously trying to goad me.

"Who told you to keep me in the dark?" I snap, my eyes shooting between Prim, who's now looking right at me, and Gale.

Johanna, much to my surprise, points to Haymitch. The older man is still laid out in a chair in the corner of the room, having made himself comfortable again, but at least now has the decency to look sheepish.

"Listen, Sweetheart," he immediately defends. "You and the boy have your own separate issues, alright? You both don't need to take on the other's all the dang time."

"Haymitch-" I start to growl but am caught off guard by a completely unexpected noise. Johanna's hysterical, dark, morbid laughter.

"I can't believe you were rescued and I was tortured, and I'm expected to protect you from the truth."

I don't blame her. No one could honestly. She was tortured because of me and the rebels. She could say and do whatever she wanted at this point, and no one had the right to tell her differently.

"Johanna," I start but let her cut me off once again, becoming accustomed to the feeling.

"And don't worry about Peeta," she says but the resentful shake of her head doesn't fill me with hope. "Your mom made him her project once they informed her your suit was bulletproof. Her and your sister basically walked him off the ledge."

And because I know she's the only person who will be completely uncensored—something I can't even say about Haymitch these days—I blurt out my next question. "What was Peeta saying? When he lost it?"

Her response is immediate and I get the impression she enjoys telling me, for some sick reason.

"Give me back to the Capitol. They'll find a way to revive her if you give me back. I want to go back. I'll trade my life for her's. Please, let me go back."

As soon as the words sunk into my brain, I wanted to puke.

So I did.

////

Johanna wasn't happy about my vomiting a literal foot away from her and she was downright livid when no one else appeared to be irritated with me but she reached a breaking point when both Peeta—who returned upon hearing my loud gagging—and Gale comforted me.

It was an odd sensation to be in not just conversation with both Peeta and Gale but to have them both be so sweet to me, at the same exact time. Without even so much as looking crossly towards the other one.

Gale held my hand and told me to calm down in a gentle voice he only ordinarily used for one of our sisters or his mom. Peeta was sitting opposite him, on the edge of my bed and telling me softly to just relax as he stroked my hair tenderly. Even Haymitch had gotten out of his seat to call an attendant to clean up my vomit and Prim and my mom were standing at the end of my bed, looking worriedly onto the scene.

Johanna's voice was biting as she took us all in. "How much hand holding does she need? Considering she was apparently strong enough to be the face of our entire cause."

"I shouldn't be," I instantly agree with her. "You should be. No one has to push you or tell you what to say."

"No one likes me, brainless," she says snidely, a leering smile spreading across her face.

"That's because everyone's afraid of you," Prim chimes in timidly, and I drop Gale's hand to reach for my little sister's, almost on instinct upon hearing her scared voice.

But Johanna has the decency to not swipe at Prim and instead gives her a sympathetic look. As if to say you don't have to be scared of me.

Her compassion evidently only extends to the thirteen-year-old, as when Finnick and Annie join the room right on the heels of Prim's words, Johanna barks out a cruel laugh. "Really? More people? Are we having a party to celebrate Katniss?" She gives everyone a mocking look around the room. "Well, I wish someone would have told me. I forgot to bring my streamers."

For some reason her tone suddenly forces back a memory of the last night in the arena. Her cutting my arm open and my red, hot, sticky blood gushing everywhere. My understanding at the time being that this was an attempt to kill me. I know now that this was the rebels' plan and she was really cutting out my tracker but the sense memory can't be so easily rationalized away.

I flinch outwardly and both Gale and Prim's faces silently ask if I'm alright. But I'm quickly distracted elsewhere.

I'm, once again, wholly surprised by Peeta's reaction.

"Don't you have anything else to do, Johanna, besides bug Katniss?" There's a strong irritability in his voice, one I'd only heard from an outsider prospective in the past. On the off occasion I'd witnessed he and his brothers in any sort of conversation. Their relationship was tense at times but they were still siblings and extremely close in age. That made for a lot of squabbling and a lot of fighting and a lot of sparring with each other. And a lot of aggravating each other, causing Peeta to behave in a way I'd never seen him otherwise.

"I don't know?" She shoots back, not even missing a beat. "Didn't I have better things to do than cuddle you after Snow's guards were done for the day? And yet, who's shoulder did you cry on? Who held your hand through our adjoining cells?" She smirks and it's obvious she's speaking for the rest of us to hear.

Annie makes an animalistic squeak and covers her ears. Finnick quickly wraps an arm around her and shoots a glare at Johanna.

"What?" She snaps. "Annie was there in the Capitol, Finnick. She know what went down."

"Doesn't mean you have to remind her of it," I state, my voice grave as I watch the mad girl Finnick loves more than life itself retreat into her own psyche.

And for some odd reason, I relate. To both Finnick, who's doing everything he can now to bring her back from the dark depths of her own mind, and Annie herself, who is buried beneath the ruins of a trauma she'll never be able to escape and is visibly struggling to dig her way back out.

I look to Peeta then, almost imperceptibly, and he just gives me a knowing, almost satirical glance. He was undoubtably thinking the same thing.

Johanna is ready to spit in my face, and she probably would, no doubt, if it were just the two of us. "You have no idea what went down after we were captured," she seethes, growing closer to me, and Peeta places an arm in front of her, blocking me from her reach, but I note the gesture isn't rough or hostile.

Gale and my mom both look like they're going to intervene. Finnick is busy with Annie now. Prim looks shell shocked and Haymitch seems to have lost interest in watching us.

For some reason, maybe it's the morphling, maybe I just feel safe surrounded by so many people who would stop her if she lunged for my throat, but I decide to reply. "Is that why you hate me so much?"

Her violent demeanor dissipates but she still has a spiteful glint in her gaze. "That's part of it. And partially because everyone is so obsessed with you. I've never seen anything about you that's so good or special."

"I agree with you about that," I say quietly, knowing it'll do nothing to mend fences with her.

Haymitch, who out of everyone I thought would agree as well, is the one who speaks up. "There's plenty good in that girl," he retorts sharply, his grey eyes hard as he stares at Johanna.

That caught me—and Peeta, by the look on his face—more off guard than anything Johanna had said thus far.

But it's Johanna's words, which aren't even directed at me, that send a chill to my spine. "Careful, Haymitch. Remember, I'm the one who's always there for the victor you constantly forget about. Or was that you who held his hand while the doctors and Mrs. Everdeen had him strapped down for two days?"

Gale is the one who responds, much to my surprise. "Okay, stop. I know you've been through—"

"Handsome," she cuts off, her voice clipped and snarky but she still bats her lashes in his direction. "You don't know anything."

"Johanna, please," Peeta murmurs now, his tone softer and a lot more understanding. "Please go back to your cubicle. I'll tell the doctors you're complaining of massive pain and need more morphling."

She stares at Peeta, her eyes softening the same way they did for Prim only minutes before. Finally she says, "it's the least you can do. Considering you wouldn't share your fiancé's with me."

And, as soon as she appeared, she had evaporated behind the curtain.

And I feel like somehow, I'm the only person who is left reeling in her absence.

/////

My mom was called back to work once again—and this time, she was made to stay there, my condition apparently too stabilized for them to be letting one of their better healers cut back on her hours—and she took Prim with her. I don't know if it was because Prim would be of use or if she just thought I needed alone time without worrying about my sister overhearing too much.

It occurs to me how much my mom is trying now to wordlessly look out for my needs. I decide to make a point in finding a way to say thank you to her. Even if our relationship will never be what it could have been, had there never been corruption or games or mine explosions. Had there been proper help to those suffering and in need.

Finnick chats with me and Peeta for a moment—and entirely ignores Gale but I suspect that's less about being intentionally rude and more about never knowing what to do with my best friend slash fake cousin—before escorting Annie away. She still looks shaken up and I wonder what happened to her in the Capitol. Or if she was already this unstable. I scarcely remember anything about her or her games, prior to what Peeta reminded me of in the Quell.

"You look tired," Peeta notes, brushing my hair back from my forehead. I smile lightly, about to kiss the palm of his hand before noticing Gale's eyes. They are quite apparently envious of Peeta's affection towards me and my acceptance of it, of how naturally Peeta can touch me, of the innate intimacy between the two of us that I never shared with him. But he tries his best to mask it and for that, I feel even worse.

I look to Haymitch without realizing it and somehow the older man understands without me even consciously thinking of asking.

"Boy," Haymitch grunts, putting on a good show as he stands up. "Let's go get some real food from the cafeteria. I hear if we say we'll participate in Plutarch's Propos, we can get better grub than the rest of Thirteen."

Peeta nods, his eyes gently running over my face, as if memorizing it in his mind. "Will you be okay-"

"Okay, Johanna was right," Haymitch barks now, grabbing Peeta by the back of the shirt, his grip much too docile to pass as normal though. "She'll be fine. Let's all stop hovering. She'll be up and tormenting us in a day."

I roll my eyes at his antics but smile meagerly at him as he guides Peeta out the door.

"Well," Gale breathes out as they leave. "That was subtle."

I laugh loud enough that I hear Johanna hiss from the cubicle next door. "I wanted to talk to you privately."

Gale chuckles. "Gathered that."

I know I have a limited time before Peeta returns and honestly I'm not too mad about that fact either, as I somehow, chessily, long for him now whenever he's gone. I inwardly cringe at myself before shaking it off to hurry this conversation along. "I wanted to apologize for me and Peeta. For how we can act. For..." I trail off, realizing too late I didn't pre-plan my words.

Peeta was right when he'd spat at Haymitch on the Victory Tour, "we all know I'm better on camera than Katniss. No one has to coach me on what to say."

I wished for his ease and talent with words now as I fumble around, trying to convey my message to the person who's been my best friend for years now.

He understands though—thankfully—and needs no more explanation. His tone has become solemn when he speaks. "You're really not faking it anymore, are you? Being in love with him?" His eyes are full of pain and he quickly downcasts them. "You fell in love with him in the Quarter Quell," he says as a fact, not a question.

"I don't know, Gale!" I exclaim, quick to defend myself here, like I'm being accused of something horrific. In truth, I feel like I am. I feel like I am, when I see how much it hurts him when me and Peeta are together. "I don't know how I feel. I just know I feel a lot for both of you."

"That's not good enough, Catnip," Gale whispers, shaking his head. But he uses my old nickname and that gives me hope. Hope that he won't hate me for not being able to give him what he wishes. Hope that I won't lose him entirely by the end of this war. "You really do need him."

I open my mouth to say something, anything, to try and rectify this. But I can't because it's true. Those are my words he's repeating back to me and they completely true. I do need Peeta. Maybe in a way I'll never need Gale. I don't know. I can't know. Not with all that rests on my shoulders already.

"What if I made you choose?" Gale presses now, leaning in closer. "What if I begged and pled and promised I'd find a way to make you happy? Would you pick me then?"

My mouth still hangs open, unsure what to say that get me out of this. I look towards the door, wishing Haymitch would reappear, that Peeta would burst through with his loud footfalls, that Johanna would pop back in and rub some salt in everyone's wounds.

All that would be preferable to this right now and I wonder why I ever wanted Haymitch to take Peeta away.

Gale shakes his head now though, having recieved his answer. "I thought so."

"Gale-" I start, not knowing where I was planning on taking the exchange but before I can even make a redundant attempt to mend whatever broke between me and him a long time ago, he's leaning in and his lips are pressing to mine and after half a second of shock, I'm giving in.

After everything I'd denied him, after all that he'd done for me and for my family, after how much he'd been there for me while Peeta was in the Capitol, I let myself give in and kiss him back.

His lips are different from Peeta's and I can't figure out how I feel about them. He's always been more grown, appearance wise, than Peeta and me, who both still could pass for years younger in the right clothing. But even his kissing is reeks of more experience, more practice, and somehow I find myself learning as his mouth shift under mine, as both his lips suck on my bottom lip expertly.

But it's lacking something and it's only then I realize, what I'm searching for inside Gale's mouth, is the spark that only Peeta's ever ignited in me. I keep waiting in vain for the warmth that started in my stomach and then rose up and exploded in my chest, for the craving that no matter what I couldn't manage to satisfy, for the thrilling, almost hysterical, tingly feeling, to overcome me and leave me lightheaded in a completely foreign way. A way that couldn't be attributed to lack of oxygen.

But it never does. I pull back and wipe my mouth carelessly on my arm and sigh, already sensing Gale's demeanor taking a nose dive at my lackluster reaction.

I'm not disappointed when I look to see his expression. His eyes are frustrated, his mouth is downturned, his eyebrows are pinched together. And I feel as bad as I knew I would. Because no matter what, I'm hurting someone I deeply care for.

But how I feel upon seeing Gale's face isn't even comparable to the amount of remorse that fills me, that overtakes my entire being, when I see Peeta standing in the doorway, having watched our entire exchange.

#everlark #thg #everlark fanfic #everlark fanfiction #the hunger games #Katniss everdeen #peeta mellark #au #mockingjay #mockingjay au #canon divergence #shatteredpearl #my writing #100

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