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swaps55 · 3 years

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This Hole You Left (Anderson)

Pairing: mShenko | Tags: Canonical Character Death, Grief

Post-Alchera.

This is a stand-alone scene from a larger work, but I’m very fond of it, so I’m posting it on its own.

Captain David Anderson stares out at the repair crews moving around the Presidium. Here, from the safe retreat of his office, it doesn’t look so bad. Scaffolding covers the damaged bridge. Debris still floats in the lake, turning the serene blue water a murky brown. The air circulators have almost cycled out the smell of soot and burnt alloy, but a trace of it still lingers. If he leans out far enough, the tip of the relay Shepard had barreled through using nothing but an M-35 Mako just four weeks ago is barely visible on his right periphery.

He doesn’t lean. Just as he doesn’t look at the datapad in his hand. Hearing the words come out of Joker’s mouth was enough. Seeing the helmsman’s face was enough. Anderson had remarked once to Shepard that he’d like to be there the day someone wiped the smartass off Joker’s face.

Shepard had snorted. Not me, sir, he’d said. If he gives up the smartass that probably means I’m fucked. I’d prefer my pilot remain an asshole at all times.

Shepard had been right, of course.

Anderson wipes a thumb across the corner of his eye. It’s all right. No one here to see.

They came back around for another pass, Joker had said, in a voice that was dull, dead, about as far a cry as you could get from the insubordinate ass who’d gone off on the stand in Vancouver just two weeks ago. Shepard had to be to blame for that display. Politics had never been his game.

We lost gravity right as he shoved me in the pod. Momentum from the blast…kicked him the wrong way. I didn’t see what happened after the door closed, but I didn’t need to. Drive core implosion doesn’t leave much to the imagination.

Anderson’s fingers grip the datapad harder. No. It doesn’t. That doesn’t stop his mind from filling in the blanks anyway.

All Shepard’s training. All the hell he’d put himself through to earn that N7 designation. There couldn’t have been a person more prepared to live through the Normandy’s destruction. And in the end, the realities of space had still won.

At least it had probably been quick. Probably.

The door to his office hisses open. For a moment, Anderson expects it to be Shepard. It should be Shepard. That son of a bitch has been putting Anderson’s heart in his throat since he was fourteen years old, but he’s never had the audacity to actually die. Hell, the kid had taken a reaper to the face and shrugged it off.

Kid. Shepard hasn’t been a kid in a long time, maybe never really was to begin with. But to Anderson, some part of Shepard would always be that fourteen-year-old with the thousand-watt grin and a glimmer in his eye that usually meant Anderson’s heart was about to leap into his throat. The smile had faded over time, but not that damned glimmer. He’d last seen it right here on the Citadel, when he’d stood up from the table at Flux Casino with plans to steal the Normandy right out from under the Council’s nose. And Anderson had helped him do it.

This can’t be how it ends. It can’t.

A voice speaks up behind him, crisp, formal. “You wanted to see me, sir.”

His expression tightens, but he smooths it out before he turns around. Lieutenant Alenko stands just inside the door to his office, shoulders straight, hands clasped behind his back, chin in the air. Anderson can’t shake the feeling there’s an empty space next to him.

Probably because he’s never seen Alenko without Shepard.

Kaidan Alenko. Damndest thing.

Who do you want on your marine detail? Anderson had asked, after informing Shepard he was being transferred off the Myeongnyang and onto the Normandy.

You’re asking me?

I’m naming you XO. If there’s someone you want, just say the word.

Alenko.

Anderson hadn’t had a chance to blink before the name was out of Shepard’s mouth. Not another N. Not someone from the special ops teams Shepard had run when Anderson could pry him out of Captain Oseguera’s hands. He wanted the biotic from the ‘Yang.

Hackett was the one who’d argued for assigning Alenko to Shepard’s detail five years ago, when the dust from Torfan had finally settled. Anderson had thought it would be a mistake. Alenko’s file showed he could keep up with Shepard, sure. But Alenko embodied the kind of idealism Shepard would chew up and spit out.

If we’re going to put his mind right to get back on the front lines, he needs an anchor, Hackett had replied, with that calm, ice cold demeanor that has won him nearly every argument he’s ever been involved in. Alenko will do the job.

The old man had been right. Shepard didn’t get close to people, and that was before Torfan. But he’d gotten close to Alenko. Hell, Alenko probably deserves most of the credit for bringing Shepard back from the brink. Because after Torfan, Shepard had indeed been on the brink.

Alenko might be the one on the brink, now. There’s a look in his eye that Anderson recognizes, and it isn’t a good one.

“Sit down.”

Alenko shifts his weight. Not the sitting kind, then. Not today. Anderson’s going to take a wild guess that Alenko hasn’t stopped moving since the Marrakesh picked him up.

He sighs and remains standing, giving the lieutenant silent permission to do the same. “I thought you’d like to know we’re working with the elcor to get a salvage team to Alchera. We’re hoping they find the Normandy’s black box data. Be nice to get some clues on what the hell happened out there.”

“Yes, sir.”

Hm. Brick wall is not Alenko’s usual MO, but that’s sure as hell what he’s talking to right now.

“Joker finished his debrief an hour ago,” Anderson goes on. “I assume you’ve heard his version of what happened.”

More shifting. The uncomfortable kind. Shepard’s done it more than a few times in Anderson’s various offices over the years.

“I haven’t, sir.”

Anderson takes a good, long look at him. He’s spent fifteen years worrying about Shepard. It’s never occurred to him to worry about Alenko.

“I see.” He exhales through his nostrils. “The Normandy was attacked by an unknown vessel. Whoever they were, Joker says they came out of nowhere. Shepard got him into the escape pod, but the ship lost gravity. He…well.”

Alenko stares straight ahead, silent. Anderson looks for a tell, but he only knows Shepard’s.

Alenko isn’t Shepard.

If this conversation is going to be one sided, Anderson needs backup. He moves to his desk, fishes a bottle out of a drawer that’s already half empty after being new just yesterday, and pours two glasses. He pushes one of them across the desk. Doesn’t occur to him until after the fact he has no idea if Alenko drinks scotch. It’s just one of the things Anderson and Shepard always agreed on.

“Have it if you want it,” he says, not up for bullying the lieutenant into a drink. “This is off the record.” He swallows half of his in one go, then heads back for the balcony. A few moments later, Alenko joins him, hands empty, still avoiding his gaze. There’s a chip in the brickwork, though. Not much, but something in his eyes wavers.

Yeah. It might be time to worry about Alenko. Losing two ships in the span of four weeks would do a number on anyone.

Except he doesn’t think it’s about either the Myeongnyang or the Normandy.

Anderson leans on the railing, gazing out at the wreckage of the Presidium. He takes another sip from his glass. “I’m sorry. I know he meant a lot to you.”

It takes Alenko so long to answer Anderson thinks he isn’t going to. But then some of the starch fades from his shoulders.

“He did.”

Anderson side eyes him. Had it been Shepard standing next to him, he might press. He could get Shepard to open up if he was careful enough. Sometimes.

But this isn’t Anderson’s business. And his own grief certainly isn’t Alenko’s business. But while most of the galaxy is preparing to mourn Commander Shepard, the soldier standing next to him might be the only person he knows who’s grieving for Sam. He swirls the remaining liquid in his glass.

“He was the most reckless SOB I’ve ever met,” Anderson says, watching a hanar drift along one of the intact pathways below them. “I’m pretty sure half the shit he pulled over the years was just to piss me off.”

Alenko raises an eyebrow ever so slightly in surprise, but doesn’t turn his head. “He’s always at his best when the plan goes to hell.”

“Since he was a kid,” Anderson agrees, not missing the fact that Alenko had referred to him in the present tense. “First time I ever laid eyes on him he was four. He’d wandered away from Daniel on Arcturus and he called in the cavalry to look for him. You know where I found him?”

Alenko shakes his head.

“In a fountain, playing with a model ship. I asked him what the hell his spaceship was doing in the water. He said, ‘I’m about to find out.’”

Alenko’s mouth curves in a brittle smile. “I didn’t know you knew him that young.”

“I doubt he remembered,” Anderson says. “His father and I were good friends. I dropped in on occasion while he was growing up.”

Before Shepard was a soldier. Before he was the Butcher of Torfan or the Savior of the Citadel. Back when he was still Sam, all knees and elbows, so desperate to please he couldn’t sit still.

Anderson still misses that kid.

“He said you kept an eye on him when they shipped him to Ares Station.”

Anderson huffs. “Told you about that, did he.”

Alenko nods, resting his hands on the balcony railing.

Then Shepard had indeed trusted Alenko. Only a handful of people knew about Ares Station and Guthra Tulak. Shepard had been one of five kids sent to biotically train with the krogan, and the only one to realize any potential.

Leave it to the Alliance to come up with a program even riskier than BAaT. Leave it to Hannah Shepard to volunteer her own kid to be part of it. Anderson always wondered if Sam knew about Hannah’s role in Ares, and how hard Daniel fought to keep it from happening.

To Hannah, Sam was a legacy. To the Alliance, he’d been a tool with astronomical potential. Someone had needed to look out for the actual kid. Daniel had tried, but.

Losing Daniel still stings. What would he have thought about his Spectre son?

Hell, Anderson knows exactly what he’d have thought. He would have feared this day, this ending, with every breath he took. He’d wanted anything else for Sam. Anything but this.

And Anderson had helped him become everything Daniel was afraid of. Hell, what choice did he have? You couldn’t dissuade Sam from anything. Once he was target locked on something there was nothing you could do but get as many obstacles out of his way as possible and hope for the best. So that’s what Anderson had done. Mentored him, advocated for him, taken a few hits behind the scenes on his behalf and cleared the path as best he could. Maybe you couldn’t take the target out of Sam’s sights, but you could guide his aim to make sure he hit it dead to rights.

“He’s come a long way since then,” Anderson says, wincing when he realizes now it’s him who can’t let go of the present tense. “I wish I’d been at the inquest. From the secure feed it looked like he put an entire roomful of admirals on their asses. Would love to have seen it in person.”

Alenko stills, expression frozen in place like a mask. Whatever nerve Anderson just touched is a big one, so he steers the conversation in a new direction.

“Though what I really wish I could have seen is what he found to gripe about being stuck in atmosphere. The entire time he was in Rio for ICT, he never once complained about the work. Wouldn’t shut up about how much he hated humidity.”

The fragile smile returns. “He hated going down a well without a hardsuit.”

“Know what almost kept him from qualifying for N1?”

Alenko shakes his head.

“Bugs,” Anderson tells him. “Not twenty-hour days, not hostile terrain, not crawling around in the mud without food or sleep. It was the bugs that damn near washed him out.”

A laugh escapes the lieutenant. It’s a rusty sound. “That…doesn’t surprise me.”

Anderson smiles at the memory. “He got over it. Made it through, like he always did. Wish I’d told him more how…proud I was.”

“You meant a lot to him,” Alenko says, so quietly Anderson almost doesn’t hear him.

The lump that forms in Anderson’s throat takes him off guard. “He had a way of affecting everyone he ever met. I forget sometimes it could go the other way. He made it so easy to think he was fine on his own.”

“He wasn’t.”

Alenko’s stare remains fixed on the view from the balcony. Not many people saw the side of Shepard that needed anyone. Even Anderson only saw it on occasion. Alenko was so far from the kind of person Shepard would let his guard down in front of, but clearly he had.

If we’re going to put his mind right to get back on the front lines, he needs an anchor, Hackett had said. Alenko had done the job, all right.

Problem was, it looks like that had gone both ways.

Anderson draws in a breath. Might as well get this over with. “I called you here to ask if you would speak at the memorial.”

It’s going to be a spectacle, the likes of which Sam would have hated, but the Alliance sure as hell isn’t going to be denied their PR opportunity.

Alenko shifts his weight. He’s so damn still. Shepard would be pacing the room until Anderson wanted to strangle him.

“Is that an order, sir?”

“A request.”

“Then I respectfully decline.”

Anderson finishes his drink. “Can I ask why?”

Alenko’s grip on the railing tightens. “The Alliance cares about the symbol. I cared about the person. I can’t give them what they want.”

Anderson can’t help but wonder what the lieutenant would have to say. Shepard was so many different things to so many different people. What, exactly, was he to Kaidan Alenko?

Why Alenko? Anderson had asked Shepard back on Arcturus, the Normandy’s hull gleaming and new out the shutters.

Shepard had thought a long time before answering, like there was too much to say and not enough words to say it.

Because he grounds me.

The older Shepard had gotten, the rarer it was to get glimpses of Sam. Sometimes Anderson wondered if Sam still existed, or if he’d been swallowed up by the mantle everyone demanded he carry. But that answer had come from Sam.

“Ok,” Anderson tells Alenko. “I’ll hand it off to Hackett.”

“Why not you?” Alenko asks, looking in his direction for the first time.

Anderson gazes down at his empty glass. Twenty years ago he might have thrown it against the wall just to watch it shatter. Nowadays he thinks too hard about the mess it would make, and being the one who has to clean it up. “Because I cared about the person.”

Heavy silence settles between them.

“You should take some leave,” Anderson says. “You’ve more than earned it.”

“I’m fine,” Alenko replies, but that haunted look is back.

Soon enough you’re going to have to stop moving, son, Anderson thinks. After Torfan, Shepard had hit the same wall Alenko is cruising right towards. But Alenko isn’t Shepard, and he isn’t under his command anymore. All he can do is give him a hand if he asks for it, and from the looks of it he isn’t going to ask.

Not that it would matter. Anderson’s got no anchor to give him that could replace the one he lost.

“Just think about it. And get some sleep.” He gestures towards the door, freeing the lieutenant from further torture. While Alenko makes for the exit, Anderson heads for his desk and the untouched glass. No sense in letting it go to waste.

Alenko pauses at the doorway and looks back over his shoulder. “Rain.”

“I’m sorry?” Anderson asks with a frown.

“You wanted to know what he found to gripe about on Earth. It was the rain.” He looks away without waiting for a response and walks away.

That empty space Anderson thought he’d been imagining when Alenko walked in feels even larger, now. Yeah. Shepard sure knows how to leave a hole in people.

#mshenko #kaidan alenko #mass effect #david anderson #trilogyappreciationweek #me legendary countdown #my fic

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wienerbarnes · 4 years

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The Undercover Mission (2/3)

Pairing: Bucky x Reader (Cheek to Cheek)

Word Count: 1,463

Warnings: talks of murder and killing and mission stuff ya know

A/N: :) happy hump day

MAIN MASTERLIST | CHEEK TO CHEEK MASTERLIST

Bucky loves going undercover. He’s incredibly good at it, no matter how weird the flesh arm looks on him, or the fact that people see a clear resemblance to the Winter Soldier, they never recognize him.

Bucky doesn’t get put on undercover missions often, but he’s very good at his job. So he wasn’t completely surprised when Fury told him about this mission.

A Gunnery Sergeant being suspiciously connected to a multitude of HYDRA deaths. Well, Marine deaths, who are later exposed to have ties to HYDRA. Eighteen of them to be exact. That’s a lot of dead Marines.

Gunnery Sergeant Camm’s son owns a small auto shop in Pennsylvania, a shop where all of the Marines went to at least once. The son has an alibi for each night of the killings as well as the days the bodies were found. Not to mention, Mr. Camm’s son is about dumb as rocks; guy couldn’t get away with killing over a dozen people even if he wanted to.

But Mr. Camm himself… is a very smart man. Expert marksman and incredibly skilled sniper, top ranks for both the Corps and his schooling. Bucky suspects he’s running an operation of some sort, using his son’s body shop in order to get to and kill these Marines. Whether he does the killing himself or has someone else do it, he still has to figure out.

That’s the only connection they have so far, but it’s the only thing they have to go on. As much as dead HYDRA operatives are a good thing, they need to figure out who’s behind all of these deaths and stop them before they continue to play executioner.

So, Bucky’s tasked with going undercover and getting a job there. Figuring out what the deal is with the Gunny. Until Fury tells him he’s your father. Creating another tie to HYDRA.

It seems after your parent’s divorce and your mother’s death, your father got a new family. After giving custody of you to your grandparents on your mother’s side, he remarried. A pretty new wife and a son they had together. Like starting anew.

He wonders if your father knows who you are. Your parents divorced when you were a baby; he had to have met you once or twice in between deployments. Does he know your name? What you look like? Does he know you grew up to follow in his footsteps; an outstanding Marine? Does he know you were kidnapped and tortured, forced to kill against your will? Does he know his daughter grew up to be one of the most notorious killers in the 21st century?

He’s desperate to find one thing, one little slip up so they can bring your father in. They brought him in for questioning after making the connection to his son’s auto shop, but it didn’t go anywhere and Sam was forced to release him. You’re father’s very good at this.

But he can’t be better than Bucky. He’ll catch him, eventually. And he can’t wait. He can’t wait to end this, so he can explain everything to you. Not that’d you’d listen, probably.

Bucky’s underneath a car doing a simple oil change when your father calls him over, “Hey, Jack. Come over here, when you can.”

“You got it, Boss.” Bucky calls back.

Jackson Coffey. His new persona for the last two months. He’s been the biggest kiss-ass to your father, who’s probably the biggest prick he’s ever met. But the sooner he gets in close to him, the sooner he’ll earn his trust, and the sooner he can catch him.

Your father is here in between tours right now, whenever he’s not on base in Philadelphia, he’s here with his son helping him with the shop.

He wipes the oil residue on his shirt before making his way to your father’s office. He looks at him pour himself a large cup of coffee, nothing in it, bitter like he is. Nothing like you; you don't own any solid colored mugs, and you put sugars and syrups in your coffee to sweeten them up. Because you are sweet. Your father is not.

But Bucky can’t arrest him for being an asshole, as much as he wants to. But, oh does he think about it often, slapping a pair of cuffs on his wrists.

“I wanna let you in on a coupla things, Jack.” Bucky nods in encouragement for him to continue.

“I’m a Marine, you know that?”

“Yes, Boss.” You remind every damn person that walks into this shop. You wear the uniform constantly, even for events you’re not supposed to be.

“As a Marine, I see it as my duty to serve and protect this country, by any means necessary.” Any means, huh.

“I trust you, Jack. I see you as a son, sometimes.” He gives Bucky a warm smile that Bucky returns. You see me as your son, but you don’t even see your own daughter as your daughter.

“I wanna bring you in on a project I’m working on.”

Jackpot.

“I’d love to help, Boss.” Bucky gives him a wide smile.

Because, finally, he’s made some progress.

…

Bucky’s gut was right. The Gunny has a team of his own, dishonorably discharged Marines who he invites in and recruits them to kill HYDRA agents disguised as Marines. Bucky completes fake kills for him; he’s sent out to kill these Marines, but takes them into Avengers custody instead, forcing them to face the consequences of their own HYDRA affiliated crimes.

All he needs is for your father to accompany him, just to one job, so he can stage for him to be arrested and this shit can be over. He misses you so bad. And he knows you miss him, too. He also knows you’re doing some investigating of your own, and he knows you’re getting close.

He stopped at the tower one day, there for the weekend before having to return to Pennsylvania when he finds you going through his things in his room. He walks into his room to see you slouched down rummaging through the drawers of his desk.

“What are you doing?” He breaks the silence in the room, the first time he’s spoken to you since he broke up with you.

“I don’t know if it’s because you can’t tell me. Or don’t want to. Or… I don’t know. But, I know that there’s something you haven’t told me. And there’s something more going on here; going on with you,” You turn around, away from his desk, to face him, “And I’m going to figure out what it is.”

“Agent, you -”

“Agent?” You snarl at him, as if you’re disgusted at the fact that he won’t even call you by your name, even though he’s not supposed to. He’s never not called you by your name.

A pause, “You need to leave. Now.” Bucky tells you.

“You know you can tell me anything… right?” You ask, your voice quieter now.

“You don’t know how bad I want to tell you everything right now! But I can’t, okay! You need to leave!” Bucky snaps at you.

You don’t have a response for him after that. Just a drop of your shoulders and a defeated sigh before you brush past him, slamming the door shut behind you.

Every day and every night he begs and pleads to every God he can think of; asking for some help so he can finish all of this as soon as possible so he can fix things with you. As if you’d let him.

Until, finally, one day someone answers his pleas.

“You know, Jack, I was thinking about what you had said the last time I sent you on a job. About joining you for one, and whatnot.”

Bucky didn’t think it’d be that easy. As easy as planting the idea of being a man and doing the dirty work himself and how rewarding it is and semper fidelis and all that. And he fell for it! One last job, and this is all over. Finally.

He sets everything up; tells Sam and Sharon the details of the job, the location, the time, hell, even the predicted wind pattern for that night because he doesn’t want to risk anything going wrong.

And, surprisingly, to his luck, it does. Everything goes perfectly, actually.

The job goes down, hidden cameras and microphones everywhere and Sam and Sharon come in before Camm pulls the trigger. And Bucky finally feels that indescribable satisfaction of telling your father the truth.

“I’m Sergeant James Barnes with the Avengers, I’ve been undercover in order to finally catch you. You’re under arrest for orchestrating and taking part in the murders of eighteen men and women.”

All that’s left is you.

#Bucky Barnes #Bucky Barnes x reader #Bucky Barnes oneshot #Bucky Barnes fanfiction #marvel #hehehe

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cienie-isengardu · 4 years

Note

K, O, P?

Thank you for the lovely ask, it was fun to write! :D

K - What character has your favorite development arc/the best development arc?

Hard to pick the one character, even more since the best of character development I love so much are not tied to one arc but happens through the whole story. But since I’m on OP kick lately, Roronoa Zoro gets all the honor.

I love how at first he promised to follow Luffy as long as the rubber-man didn't get in the way of his goal (and threatened him with death otherwise) but took his commitment very seriously from day one. And somehow through the relatively short journey, Zoro literally threw away his ambitions, pride, life, everything for Luffy’s sake. And not only for Luffy, but for the crew as a whole, because Roronoa is always ready to stay behind, to be left behind, to protect nakama at all cost. And the best part of this development is that, Zoro’s priorities changed from carrying the burden of promise and shared ambition with a dead friend being the best to giving everything to Luffy, while it does not change what Zoro is at the core. It doesn’t make him a better man in the sense of an improved attitude or outlook on life. Hell, I would say it makes him more workaholic with the need to get stronger, pushing himself harder than before once he gets to know the wider world better, but Zoro is ruthless and rude as he was. He is born killer and monster in human form that don’t give a fuck about the world, politics, what society thinks while his own moral sense does not budge at all. He was and is willing to kill, he enjoys fighting and drinking, has this ambitious as hell goal of being the best. The development does not change who Zoro is, but what matters to him the most and this growing loyalty and trust can be seen through the whole story and I don’t know what would need to happen for such dedication falter even for a bit.

And like I said, this is not something that happened in one arc, but was happening through the whole story, from earlier little occasional clashes with Luffy to being of one mind with his captain while always ready to carry the burden when Luffy can’t do it, ready to stay behind and protect nakama. What makes the final of Thriller Bark one of the coolest pledge of loyalty but not the best development arc itself, really, because Zoro’s character develops in that direction from day one and the decision made in Thriller Bark is just a result of all the previous adventures.

O - Choose a song at random. Which ship or character does it remind you of?

I’m going to cheat with that and instead of a random song, I will give you two I have on loop already for several days: Broken Crown and I gave you all by Mumford & Sons, because both suit Donquixote Brothers so well and could tell the same events from two different perspectives. In advance sorry for ranting but these two songs kill me emotionally so much, I must talk in length about them!

Broken Crown is all about Rosi rejecting the “crown” given to him by brother (“I'll never be your chosen one”) and yet… still caring and sadly, knowing it too well he wouldn’t pull the trigger (“but oh my heart, was flawed I knew my weakness. So hold my hand consign me not to darkness“) and the final lines, gosh:

So crawl on my belly 'til the sun goes down

I'll never wear your broken crown

I took the road and I fucked it all away

Now in this twilight, how dare you speak of grace

So crawl on my belly 'til the sun goes down

I'll never wear your broken crown

I can take the road and I can fuck it all away

But in this twilight, our choices seal our fate

And then, I gave you all is just so Doffy about Rosinante, it hurts. Seriously. Like, I really believe he never meant to hurt his brother (and maybe never understood he did), and the whole last lines are just so on spot:

But I gave you all

But you rip it from my hands

And you swear it's all gone

And you rip out all I have

Just to say that you've won

Well now you've won

It’s just so, so about Rosi stealing Law and Opi Opi no Mi even though Doffy already “gave [him] all” what he could. And the most ironic thing? When people usually think about their last meeting, we remember that Doffy killed his younger brother, but in fact, Rosi DID WIN in the long run. He cured Law and saved him from Doffy, he stole Opi Opi no Mi and took away from brother a chance for immortality, even if just for a while. Which is like three main victories in one strike and he did sort of say it to Doffy’s face (“[Law] is already free!!”).

Just… so many feelings from two songs that fit well two brothers so different from each other. And the regrets and hate, and lack of understanding and spite. Seriously, it makes me think about their last meeting so much :(

P - Invent a random AU for any fandom (we always need more ideas).

I have three major growing ideas, but since I’m in a good mood, I will share the happiest AU in which Donquixote Rosinante never played the role of spy and confronted Doflamingo in the open sea as a Marine Officer.

Or more like: Doffy found out his bro is alive but part of Marine, so of course he couldn’t leave him in peace and like the maniac he is, chased after Rosinante across all the sea to recruit him into the Family - to no avail. So Doffy’s main reason to become Shichibukai was just so he could jump on Rosi’s warship and annoy the fuck of him, like an older brother should. And Rosi can’t kick him overboat, since as a Warlord Doflamingo is untouchable by Marines. Or at least in theory, because Rosi serves under Garp’s command*, and the old Vice-Admiral does not mind to punch some sense into Doffy (and Rosi) with fist of love, cause no punk like Doffy will tell Monkey D. Garp what he should or shouldn’t do on his own ship and if bros are lucky, Tsuru may save them from this madman… or not). Despite that causing ruckus between sailors is much better than boredom, and Doffy seeks out his younger brother under all excuses and more often than not, visits just to rant about all annoying people and bitching on Kaido or Sengoku or Nobles or really, everything and maybe for a drink or two and napping between one and another business meeting, because there is no better nap than under Rosi’s silencing powers. It is worth, no matter that more often than not Garp is kicking his ass, even when in fact he acts as a good boy should. And maybe, just maybe Doffy is so bored with all his underground business going well that he is actually doing “government dog” work of hunting down random pirates. Or more likely, slaughtering every asshole who dare insult his clumsy brother.

Because no matter what, Rosi is his baby bro and he belongs to Doffy even if the dumbass stubbornly refuses to join the Family. Which is fine, one day Doflamingo will find a way to change his brother's mind and until that day comes, he will mess with Marines as much as he can. Which is all fair, because Rosi too does mess with Doffy’s underground business whenever he has a chance and the klutz set on fire accidentally himself AND so many Doffy’s stuff one may wonder if he really is that clumsy or does he do that on purpose. Trebol thinks the latter, cause somehow Rosi always drops things on him by stumbling or spilt hot tea in his face. Doffy finds that amusing as hell, even more when his little bro uses his devil fruit powers to mute half of the Family just to piss them off. At least, as long as Rosi remembers to unmute them before leaving (sometimes the lil shit does not unmute them on purpose and Doffy is forced to chase him around the sea to undo the damage. Younger brothers can be a really pain in the ass).

So Doffy & Rosi kinda have this I-hate-you-but-I-love-you-dumbass relationship over the years until Law comes into picture and of course, Law stab the younger Donquixote and of course, Rosinante kidnap the kid to find a cure and maybe, just maybe, kidnap his brother along the way, and drag Law and Doffy on forced family vacation that involves burning a few dozens of hospitals, a lot screaming at each other and some terapeutic honest talks that no one really wants but everyone needs. Law gets the Ope Ope Mi, Doffy and Rosi kinda explain to each other all the traumatic shit from childhood and made sort of peace.

So, in the end, Doffy does not take over Dressrosa but is still doing his shady business and just being himself, just with better mental stability (cause Rosi keeps muting Trebol and all his shitty talk about what king can or cannot do on every occasion). Rosi has a brother that is not complete monster but not the good man either, but he isn’t ordered to kill him or lie to, and even though they are on opposite side, Rosinante can always call Doffy on den den mushi and shout at him for hours for all the stupid shit he pulled without any regrets or fear (and sometimes, Doffy does listen). Law is saved but still decides to sail and causing havoc as pirate captain while both Donquixote brothers are doting on him and of course, allying himself with Monkey D. Luffy, while the poor Sengoku just gets constant migraine for dealing with all the nonsense of Monkey D. and Donquixote family drama (but secretly feeling relieved that his son is finally doing fine). Garp on other hand, find it hilarious as hell. The World Government does not find it hilarious at all.

*Sengoku doesn’t like putting his precious Rosinante under Garp’s command because the Hero of Marines of course drags the poor kid into all possible troubles and chaos, but since Rosi is brother of Doflamingo and Doffy is hated by Nobles, Garp is the best protector for younger Donquixote. He will punch everyone who would dare to hurt the kid of his closest friend, including World Nobles and their armies. The side effect is that Rosi is looking after Ace and Luffy, once they set sails, because they are uncle Garp’s grandkids and he will happily save Ace’s ass before Blackbeard get his hand on him and be even kind enough to give the kid a choice: either he comes back to Whitebeard or Rosi takes him straight to grandpa Garp and so Ace ends safe under pop’s watchful eyes once and for good.

Here, a happy Donquixote Bros AU. You’re welcome!

ask meme

#ask meme #one piece #roronoa zoro #donquixote doflamingo #donquixote rosinante #donquixote brothers #one piece AU #fueled by my overthinking about donquixote bros #and #monkey d. garp #sengoku the buddha #trafalgar law #one piece kills me with too many emotions #sorry not sorry #my replies #broken crown #and I gave you all songs #are just made for those two

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xxgoblin-dumplingxx · 4 years

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In Tatters: Ten

“What’s up, Stevie?” Bucky said answering the phone.

“We gotta get out shit together, Buck,” he said quietly, “Did you know she had a trip coming up?”

“Trip? Trip for what?” Bucky asked.

Steve smiled a little. There was a little comfort in the fact that Bucky hadn’t been listening either. “She’s going with her cousins, They’re gonna go run around in Ohio for a few days.”

“She hates her cousins,” Bucky said after a few seconds of processing time.

“Hates is the wrong word, I think,” Steve sighed. “But yeah.”

“Are we going too?” Bucky asked.

“She doesn’t want us to,” Steve said softly, “Something about not feeling like she wants to explain herself.”

“People still have to do that?” Bucky asked, distaste coloring his tone.

“Evidently,” Steve snorted.

“Fucking Lame,” Bucky sighed. Steve smiled a little. He’d heard that specific thing in that specific tone come out of your mouth on several occasions. “So what are we gonna do, Stevie?”

“Well,” Steve said slowly, “Given the dressing down I got that basically amounted to ‘You’re not my parents and goddamn it sometimes I just wanna be mad for a second’ we had probably better stop treating her like a baby.”

“She is a baby,” Bucky said fondly.

“Yeah,” Steve agreed, “But-but like we’ve been treating her. Babying her is fun. Treating her like a stupid kid is driving her nuts.”

“We don’t-” Bucky started.

“Buck,” Steve said quietly, “That’s what it feels like to her. She feels like she can’t really talk to us because we either don’t listen or don’t take her seriously... and we’re gonna lose her if we don’t pull it together quick.”

For a long minute, the two men are silent. Each retracing their missteps that morning when you left the apartment, hurt and irritated. And they hated it. They hated that they made you feel like anything less than important and loved.

“Steve,” Bucky said softly, “What are we gonna do?”

“I’m not sure, sweetheart,” Steve answered, “But. I know she’s going to need us when she gets home.”

“Yeah,” Bucky sighed, wincing. He hated listening to the conversations you had on the phone with your family. It was insanity. They just... well honestly they didn’t deserve you. Even from just hearing your end of the conversation, they were rude and hateful. Concerned about your money and less than concerned about you. Unless you were doing something they didn’t approve of. Then they cared a lot. An awful lot. Enough to lecture you until you’d say anything to get off the phone. It was like electronic water boarding. “Maybe now would be a great time to get that little dust mop?”

“I think that’s a good idea, Buck,” Steve said smiling a little. “It might... help. At least help keep her from bottoming out again completely.”

Bucky cringed at the thought, “We really don’t need that to happen again,” he said softly.

“No we don’t,” Steve agreed, “But, at least we know what to do now.”

“Kind of,” Bucky sighed, “It doesn’t always work.”

“Nothing always works,” Steve soothed, “We just gotta be there. And pay attention.”

“I’ll make a few calls today,” he said, “See if anyone has some little dust mop dogs like the one she had growing up.”

“And I’ll see if I can’t get... something set right before we get home tonight,” Steve said softly, “Bucky I hate it when she can’t even look at me.”

“I know,” Bucky answered. Whenever you were about to cry, whenever you had feelings you thought someone was gonna shout at you for having, you wouldn’t turn and look at them. You’d find anywhere else to look desperately clinging to any distraction to keep from being shouted at. “I love you, Steve. Give our girl a kiss for me?”

“I love you too, Bucky... and I’ll give her more than that if she’ll let me,” he said chuckling.

Bucky snorted and hung up the phone, trusting Steve to take care of you for a while. And hopefully make things feel a little... less terrible for you.

_________

Steve ducked back in the office and came to stand behind your chair, bending down to kiss your cheek, “That’s from Bucky,” he said softly before kissing your other cheek, “And this is from me for being an asshole. I’m sorry, bunny baby.”

“It’s okay,” you murmur, slowly starting to type again.

Steve turns your chair around to face him gently and kneels in front of you, “No,” he said softly, “It’s not okay. Bucky and I wouldn’t act like that with each other and we shouldn’t ever do that to you. Not even on accident.” He tilts your chin up gently to keep you from looking down at your hands and brushes a tear away with his thumb, “You’re our girl,” he said softly, “You shouldn’t ever feel like you’re not at home with us. You deserve better.”

When you start crying, taking your chin out of his hand and looking up to try and stop the flow of the tears, Steve stands up slowly, stopping when you flinch away from him. “Bunny baby,” he soothes, “You’re okay. Come’er, sweet girl.” He holds out his arms and scoops you up gently, taking your spot on your desk chair. “You go a head and cry,” he murmurs, “I promise. I won’t tell anyone you have feelings.”

He smiles a little when you huff a laugh against his shoulder and kisses your head. “There’s my girl,” he murmurs, tightening his arms around you when you start crying again. And for a little while there aren’t any words. Steve doesn’t know what to say. And he knows you don’t really need him to talk. You just have to be able to feel some feelings and let it out. It’s like a release valve. And Steve wonders just how long you’d been just quietly marinating in all the pain you felt.

He didn’t try to make it stop. Because making it stop, while it would stop breaking his heart, wouldn’t help you right now. You were hurting. Hurting and it wa because he and Bucky had forgotten for a second, forgotten that you needed them to treat like a partner. An equal partner in all of this.

“We love you so much,” Steve murmured, “So very much, Bunny Baby. And we’ll be here when you get home, okay?”

You rub your eyes on your sleeve and Steve tilts your chin up. Unphased by the snot or the red cheeks as he reaches over to grab a handkerchief to wipe your face. “You okay?” he asked, kissing your forehead.

“I don’t wanna do this, Steve,” you sigh, “I don’t wanna see those people. I don’t give a fuck about church. Or car dealerships. Or 401k’s or golf. Or the fucking union at the foundry. I don’t care that they think Gay people are ruining the fabric of society. I don’t want to hear about how much happier I’ll be with a house and 2.5 kids. I don’t want to hear about how nice boys don’t want me to be sleeping with anyone. Let alone both boys and girls. I don’t wanna hear about how no one will want me if I can’t cook... I just wanna be enough and I never am. It doesn’t matter what I do or where I go nothing is ever enough.”

Steve pulls you back against his chest, hard. Rocking you gently when you whimper and kissing your head, “Baby. Oh sweetheart. You’re enough. Okay? We’ve needed a girl, just like you for 70 years. You’re enough. You’re everything we didn’t know we needed. And those people? I’m so sorry they never loved you like you deserve, bunny. And I’m even more sorry that we let you feel like we didn’t love you. We’re gonna do better, okay?”

“Okay,” you murmur, exhaling slowly.

“And we’ll be here when you get home... We’ll even take you to the gun range if you wanna go.”

That makes you snort, “You guys realize that for like 5 straight years I made the paper in my home town for getting the first deer of the season right? I can shoot.”

“I know,” Steve said, “And it’s really funny when you out shoot Bucky... I bet you could get him to bet against you again and get him to take us for ice cream when you win.”

#stucky #stuckyxreader #poly stucky #Steve Rogers #Bucky Barnes #steve x reader x bucky #fluff #angst

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spyvstailor · 4 years

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GRAVEYARD DIRT & SALT

CHAPTER FIVE: BENNY

“South Carolina abouts they have this critter called a 'Boo Hag', said to be a skinless sort of vampire and they like to ride you to death and steal your breath. If they like you, they keep you alive, sucking your air, sustaining themselves. But if they don't, if you struggle or make them angry, they skin you and wear your skin. Just walk around like they wear pants or such. But they can't stay riding you forever, they gotta be home and in their skin before sunrise or they become trapped forever without skin.”

Please support me, I’m still out of work because of COVID, so anything you can toss my way can really help. I’m going to need to feed my kitties soon! Reblog this if you can’t donate to please support a nearly starving author!

Read the newest chapter here below the cut if you want, since ko-fi can be unreliable!

Chapter Five: Benny

When everything went to hell, Benny had been at the top.

Maybe he still was? He had no idea how Vegas handled the swarms of the dead.

Probably no better than Atlanta.

God, what a fucking hole in the ground to be caught undead in. Why had he even agreed to come here to the middle of Satan's nutsack to make a deal?

By the time he waded through the packed streets, filled with fleeing idiots, days had passed and the wave of infection had spread.

When he made it to the edge of the city, it was almost completely overrun.

And his private helicopter, that last hope he had of leaving Georgia, was useless, no pilot. So, he was wading his way through the land of good ol' boys and peaches, heading home.

Because what else did he do? Just stay stuck in Georgia with the undead on his ass? Forever? The idea seemed to tickle him. It was divine retribution for all his sins. This was hell. He was in hell. Well, thanks but no thanks. He'd take his chances back in Vegas with his well-stocked warehouse and his penthouse in The Golden Rose.

God, he missed The Golden Rose. Melody's pretty little voice chirping 'Hello, welcome to The Golden Rose', every time he passed through the lobby, or the weird night gamblers bellying up at the bar around two in the morning, sipping on complimentary Flash-bang's, the signature drink created by Bruce behind the bar. Sure he had more employees than Melody and Bruce, the others, the late-night workers who always were just a little bit off, but friendly enough. The kids fresh out of school, old enough to work at the casino, who tried too hard to impress the boss. Sven in the kitchen, who never seemed to leave, always yelling at him for coming down and making those 'nasty little sandwiches' as he called them, the open-faced ones made with peanut butter and sliced bananas on plain white bread, the sandwiches Valerie had gotten him hooked on when they were first dating. They were her favourite midnight snack and they had fast become Benny's too.

Valerie.

Ten years. Holy fuck had it been ten years?

Plucking at a stretchy beaded bracelet he wore, Benny snapped it hard and shook off his thoughts of Valerie. They didn't do him any good in this new society.

From where he sat. Perched on the railing of the bell tower, looking down across a darkened Georgia, barely peeking over treetops that surrounded the convent, Benny exhaled.

Annie had given him the stink-eye at their new spot, full of bird shit and leaves and any kind of crap that the winds blew into the little tower, but Benny had sat her down gently onto the bearskin rug and the sleeping bag on top of it and promised her they would clean it up in the morning.

He didn't tell her what he was thinking, he didn't tell a lot of people what he thought, no one wanted to hear his bullshit. His old man used to say 'if I want your opinion, I'll beat it out of you' and he meant it.

The truth was, the trouble on the wall, the nun dying, had reminded him how dangerous it was. He had become too soft and spoiled lately, the dead were thinning out and he had forgotten what it was like when the outbreak first happened when it was really bad.

They were safer in the tower, should anything happen to the gate, there was a heavy church door to open and a narrow ladder to climb before anything could get at them.

And, sitting on the trapdoor that led to the ladder, Benny knew Annie was safer here than anywhere else.

It had been a long, long time since anyone had relied on Benny and he took his job seriously. Nothing would happen to Annie as long as he was alive and kicking.

During his flight from Atlanta, he had somehow wound up arm in arm with Annie and her mother Laila. They had sort of run across each other and just kept running in the same direction.

Benny had immediately liked Laila, she was tough as hell and he had to admire that about her. Not that he knew much about her or the kid, they weren't real big on talking and he also had to admit he liked it that way.

But Laila had his back and he had hers and they made a good team, but when she went out one morning to scrounge for breakfast and never came back he didn't think for a second the dead had gotten her. He knew her, she was a survivor.

Something else happened.

So he stuck around the area, hoping he'd find something which would let him know where Laila had gotten off too. And somehow, sticking around the small town, he wound up running into that marine and that Grayson kid, and when the kid started talking about men taking his sister, Benny started thinking. He wasn't a gambler by nature, despite him living in a casino in Las Vegas, but he would bet everything he had that when they found these men, he would find Laila.

And Jesus, if he didn't also kind of like that marine.

Not that he'd ever admitted that out loud. Admitting you liked someone, admitting you wanted to be someone's – what? Drinking buddy? At his age? Embarrassing.

But he liked him just fine. The Cajun was a tall puppy dog, but there was something about his optimism that balanced Benny's nihilism nicely.

On the wall below, three nuns kept vigil over Sister Mary Patrick's body. They couldn't retrieve her until morning, so they kept a quiet, mindful watch.

And just like those nuns, Benny would keep a silent watch over Annie all night long, he would sleep when she was old enough to take care of herself.

Sitting by the nuns' water pump in their convent yard the next morning, he watched Annie as she brushed her teeth, brushing his own with the travel toothbrush he kept in his jacket pocket. He liked to travel as light as possible, gun, bullets, knife, toothbrush and tube of toothpaste, and while he'd never admitted it, reading glasses for emergency reading, because fuck if he wasn't getting old.

He noticed the marine traveled with a goddamn apartment on his back and that was just fine for him. Marines were trained for distance and roughing it, they were pack mules. And just as dumb.

He needed more bullets for his tidy little Springfield, come to think of it.

“She's a good kid,” someone said from his left. It was a male voice and not Grayson's.

Benny ignored the marine for a moment, not wanting to chat about the fucking weather or some bullshit, spitting his toothpaste foam into a bucket of water to be dumped over the wall with the rest of the handwashing and face washing water.

There was a nun's body being buried out behind the church right now and he didn't feel like jibber-jabbing.

“We did our best last night,” the Lieutenant said, easing down beside him on one of the folding chairs the nuns had set up around their water source. For what? Water pump gossip? Maybe.

“Dead nun though,” Benny replied, sipping at some water to rinse his mouth.

The marine was quiet beside him, gazing out across the dewy lawns.

“I didn't mean to put the squeeze to you,” he began. “Yesterday in the church. I know you don't like talking about yourself.”

“Sure you did,” Benny returned.

Withdrawing for a moment to regroup, the marine went on, “fine. I did a little, but...it's hard trusting people nowadays, yeah?”

“Hard to trust people before this bullshit,” Benny shot back.

“Fair.”

There was a tension to the marine that told Benny he was gearing up for something, angling to reach for something during the entire conversation.

“You got something to say, don't pussyfoot,” he said calmly.

“Not that I don't believe you, but I want a reassurance that you're not trying to fuck us on this deal with the copter,” the marine said.

Benny nodded. “Yeah, I thought you'd think that. I wouldn't blame you. But it's real.”

“Well, we go in smart then,” the man stated.

“We go in smart,” Benny agreed, stretching out his legs and resting them on another chair across from him.

Beside him the marine remained seated, quiet in the growing daylight.

“We done?” Benny inquired.

“You ever hear about the boo hags?”

“The what?”

“And the moral of this story is...?” Benny prompted.

The Lieutenant shrugged, folding his arms. “Nothing really, I just think about the Boo Hags sometimes.”

“My granny used to tell me about this guy she knew from Corpus Christi, used to hate wearing pants. He wasn't crazy or anything, just said they were too hot and itchy, so he'd walk around in his boxer shorts everywhere.”

Around them, the nuns went about their morning routine, chores, and preparing for their morning mass after burying their fellow nun.

“Well,” Benny said. “Maybe he was a little crazy, I guess.”

Annie came to him and climbed into his lap, watching the activity around them quietly. It was a strange sort of calm to the morning, despite the funeral. It felt like the soft morning's Benny had at his grandparents, warms sunlight, peace, and quiet before the hectic activity of the day. It brought him back home to a home he mourned every single day of his life, a home he had only fleetingly as a boy before it was replaced with the boozy smelling mornings of his parents home.

“Mornings like this feel like my Mamere getting ready for church,” the Lieutenant said. “She used to sing when she was getting ready in the mornings, and she'd sing,

There's a land that is fairer than day,

and by faith we can see it afar;

for the Father waits over the way

to prepare us a dwelling place there.”

In his lap Annie rest her head against Benny's chest, listening to the marine as he sang in a fine, deep baritone. Benny knew the song well, it was his grandmother's favourite. When she finally came and took him home, to his real home with her and his grandfather, away from the chaos of his mother and father's lives.

They were the only people who ever really loved him.

The hymn brought back memories of Sunday mornings dressing for church, of Sunday evenings with the smell of roast chicken and his granny's baked apples, sweetened with brown sugar, butter, and cinnamon, sticky and warm.

He didn't live with them long. They were hit by a drunk driver and killed two years after he moved in with them. Benny went back to the chaos and Edna and Merle were buried in Oak Grove.

At the sound of the gentle singing, a few nearby nuns gathered in closer, curious, and quiet. Raised Baptist by his grandparents at least, Benny joined in with the marine, singing only very, very faintly, as though he were doing it for his granny and no one else. He would sing in a voice only barely above a whisper.

It was Annie who joined in the singing, almost eager and happy to do something that wasn't fighting and surviving.

In the sweet by and by,

we shall meet on that beautiful shore.

In the sweet by and by,

we shall meet on that beautiful shore.

We shall sing on that beautiful shore

the melodious songs of the blessed;

and our spirits shall sorrow no more,

not a sigh for the blessing of rest.

In the sweet by and by,

we shall meet on that beautiful shore.

In the sweet by and by,

we shall meet on that beautiful shore.

To our bountiful Father above

we will offer our tribute of praise

for the glorious gift of his love

and the blessings that hallow our days.

“My granny used to sing that one too,” Benny finally admitted, in the stark silence at the end of the song. “Yours lived with you?” He asked.

The Lieutenant nodded. “Yeah, my grandparents raised me.”

“Where were your parents?” Benny asked.

“Due to circumstances beyond my control, nowhere in sight,” the Lieutenant replied, a grin in his voice. “My ma was hospitalized most of my young life,” he added in a more serious tone. “The man who impregnated her was...not important.”

“Pump and dump?”

“Of sorts, not really given permission for it though,” the Cajun finished tentatively.

Benny felt his blood chill a little. “I get you.” He said, not wanting the marine to have to open up old wounds.

“You?”

“I lived with my grandparents for a while, yeah. My parents were...selfish pricks, they lived in Galveston.”

“I get you,” the marine repeated his own words. Easing back in his chair, the Cajun asked, “where you from? Where'd you grow up? You said you lived in Forth Worth?”

“My grandparents lived in Fort Worth, so I guess I moved between there and Galveston mostly.”

“What happened to the twang? You lose it or hate it?” The Lieutenant inquired.

Benny chuckled. “I haven't lived there for years.”

“Can never really shake the twang though, yeah?” The Lieutenant teased.

“I guess not. You? I know Cajun when I hear it, but where you from in Louisiana?”

“Eunice.”

“Eunice? That's...down south, isn't it? Way down the bayou,” he mocked the Lieutenant's accent, prompting the marine to laugh.

“Yeah, yeah it is.”

“Annie,” he turned to the kid in his lap. “Why don't you head inside the infirmary, okay? I'll be right there to get you set up for the day.”

The girl slipped down to the ground and nodded, heading obediently for the building where Grayson was already getting his shit together.

Sullen, a little pissed that he was forced to face things he had buried long ago in Texas, Benny remained quiet for a good long time. Long enough that eventually the anger dispersed.

Benny sat still and silent so long that eventually, it was just him and the Cajun, who remained, squatted down on his haunches, resting.

“We're running on a very short timeline,” Benny finally said to the man.

The marine nodded. “Yep.”

“That girl, if she is still alive, won't be so young and vibrant if she's with these men, I can tell you that right now. Feel like with no law, men will become animals, women will become prey.”

“What's going on in that tiny bird brain of yours?” The Cajun asked.

“You need to stay here and train up some of these damned nuns, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Think you could trust me?” Benny asked suddenly, turning away from the middle nothing he was staring at and pining the Cajun with a look.

For a good long while the marine eyed him back, blue-grey eyes hard and scrutinizing. At rest the man's face was regal, but villainous, betraying his genuine kindness, at rest his face was the face of a man you didn't want to fuck with.

“Yeah, I think so.”

“You're going to have to know so,” Benny urged.

“Alright, I know I can trust you.”

“It might be riskier, but time is important, isn't it?”

“What's your plan, fancy man?”

“When I was poking around the church earlier, I spied some priest shit, a get up for a proper man of the Lord. Might give me a pretty good shield, might get me close enough to those men if I can find them, to get inside their group.”

“Espionage?”

“Whoa, slow down there Bayou-bred, that's a big word for you.”

The two men hushed up as Grayson began to head over towards them.

“Fuck off, Grayson!” Benny shouted.

“Fuck you, assclown!” Grayson snarled back, veering off in anger towards the wall and the gate.

“That kid is going to murder you in your sleep some night, paon.” The Lieutenant mused.

“Ah well, he's a good kid, needs toughening up. Mouthy little fuck though.”

The two men settled a little again, their ruffled feathers smoothing out in the tranquility that followed the exchange between Benny and Grayson.

“You could get yourself killed ducking in on a group like a priest. If they find out you're not or if they happen to find out what you're up to.”

“I know,” Benny replied. “But I'm good at it.”

“Good at it?” The Lieutenant asked.

Benny smiled. “Getting into places I shouldn't be as someone I'm not.”

The Cajun was quiet, before sighing. “Okay. Cut the shit, what the fuck are you?”

“I'm goddamned good at what I do. You just worry about these nuns. When I head out, you need to do one thing for me. You just need to trust that whatever happens once I leave this convent, I'm not going to fuck you over. Annie will stay here, she'll be my guarantee that I won't let anything happen.”

“Okay.”

“You tell anyone you need that I ran off in the night, just not Annie. You tell her I'll be back. You need to do this for me. Can you do this?”

“I don't like handing the reins over, but...you're right. Time is important and these nuns can't be left alone. Splitting up might be the best bet for everyone. I'll play my part.”

“Pact?” Benny offered, holding out his hand. He knew it was childish, but he wanted God (if there be any) to witness his honesty. For once in his goddamned life of other names, other faces, he wanted some higher power to see his bluffing ass telling a truth.

The Lieutenant leaned back a little, before saying, “brothers. It makes you blood. You don't cross blood.”

“Brothers,” Benny swore, the two men shaking hands firmly.

Releasing hands, the two men sat back a little, trying to look like two men just sharing a conversation, as Mena poked her head out of the convent cloister and started their way.

“We meet up tonight, dead of night when everyone is asleep, in the back room of the church,” Benny said softly, hurrying before Mena could join them.

The Lieutenant nodded.

“Gentlemen,” Mena greeted in the high toned, pretty magnolia blossom voice of hers. Pure sugar, pure south. “Good morning.”

“Why Miss Mena, you're as pretty as a bluebell this morning,” Benny teased, mocking her southern accent.

She offered him a stern, but sparkling warning look, the corners of her mouth lifted a little like a cat. She looked like she was grateful for the teasing distraction, grateful because otherwise, it was pure mourning and fear that remained should she not have anything to distract her from it. “You may mock me all you want, Mr. Malone, but I lost one of my flock last night and I'm not in the mood. Now, we've buried the poor woman, and we were promised training. The sooner the better, I think.”

“Are you thinking of staying? You and Annie are very welcome to.”

They had gotten the nuns started with whatever makeshift weapons they could find and while the Lieutenant gave them a rifle handling and maintenance crash course, Mena had once more sidled up beside Benny as he stood in the shadows of the eastern side of the church, watching the chaos, while idly thumbing through a small bible he had found in the church.

“You're thinking of the wrong man,” he replied, motioning with his head at the marine. “He's probably yours for life though.”

She smiled. “We love having you here, Mr. Malone. All of you.” She hesitated, before adding, “I sort of forgot how boring convent life can be until you all arrived to shake things up. Granted, we suffered a loss, but...I think we're stronger with you and the Lieutenant and even Annie and Grayson. We're no longer cloistered, we're a community center, a...a home.”

He opened his mouth about to say something, before considering it, finally he relented. “I know a nun's faith is sacred to her, but...why did you become a nun? You seem...unhappy with your lot.”

“I wouldn't say unhappy,” she replied. “I'm ungrateful in a small way. I became a nun to help people. Work missions and aid the poor and those most unfortunate. I suppose, I just...never felt like I was helping much here. Feel sort of immured behind these walls.”

“Immured?”

Before Mena could answer his question, the Lieutenant joined them, easing against the church for a rest in the shade.

“So?” Benny asked him.

“Well, they don't like the idea of hitting anyone, seem hesitant, but I think when push comes to shove they know how to do it.”

Scoffing, Benny turned to Mena. “What about you, debutante? Wanna fight with the others?”

Mena laughed. “I'm afraid I don't care much for fighting.”

“You need to learn how,” he went on.

“I know how to throw a punch, Mr. Malone,” Mena argued gently.

Inhaling calmly, Benny scooped the nun up easily in one move and had her stomach perched on his shoulder as she dangled over it in shock, her legs and knees digging into his chest in shock.

“So you're telling me,” Benny began as Mena struggled to be put down, trying to maintain her dignity while being treated like a sack of flour, “you know how to prevent being carted off by someone like this?”

“Mr. Malone, please?!” Mena shouted, panicked. Her ever calm facade breaking into a sort of girlish embarrassment. Shrill and just a little tremulous.

“Don't break the nun,” the Lieutenant warned with a small grin.

Sensing the rest of the nuns' attention and maybe wanting to cheer them up just a little with a distraction from the death of Sister Mary Patrick, Benny perked a little more, hefting the woman on his shoulder as she squirmed.

“Are you kidding me?” He demanded loudly. “I'm two steps away from giving her a noogie. This is fun. I'm going to hold her down and snicker-snag on her if she can't break away.”

“Don't you dare! Put me down!” Mena shouted as the rest of the nuns began to notice the noise and started wandering over towards them curiously.

“Look at how small she is,” Benny laughed. “I could toss her over the wall into a pile of leaves like a little mouse. Hey, give me a hand, I want to try playing keep-away with this shrimp.”

“Are you seriously bullying me right now, Mr. Malone?” Mena demanded, still draped over his shoulder, her veil fluttering to the ground, all dignity lost. “Lieutenant, please?”

“I can't step into another man's training ring,” the Lieutenant lied. “It's not courteous.”

“Courteous?!” The nun hollered.

“Think if I put her down and follow her she'll lead me to her pot of gold?” Benny asked, spinning with the nun.

A stray knee from the poor nun hit Benny in the mouth and he reeled back a little, blood drawn.

“Alright, play time's over, kids,” the Lieutenant stepped in, moving to take Mena from Benny.

As soon as the Cajun set Mena right again, kneeling to get her veil for her, she was puffing up like a little ruffed grouse and twirling around to poke at Benny in the chest.

He was too distracted by the taste of blood on his lip to notice.

Behind them the nuns that had gathered were all trying to conceal their amusement at the scene, a few of them giggling into their veils, some turning their soft laughter into mild coughs.

“Serves you right,” Mena stated. “The indignity!”

Benny, idly licking at his torn lip, grinned and held his hands up. “Hey, okay. Put the guns away, shrimp, you win.”

“Blood has been drawn, no harm done,” the Lieutenant said. At Mena's sharp look, he amended that statement to a soft, “maybe?”

“I am an Abbess,” Mena snarled, whirling on Benny again, her little finger pointed at him like a rifle. “I deserve a modicum of respect.”

“A what?” Benny asked, pocketing his hands. “Hey, don't get mad, country mouse, you said you could handle yourself, and boy, did you sure prove me wrong.”

“I,” Mena began, a little louder than her normal soft-spoken Southern belle coo. She stopped short and seemed to inhale, calming herself. “I...will not let you goad me into a fight, just to prove myself capable, Mr. Malone.”

“One punch,” he pushed. “Just one solid punch and I'll leave you alone.”

Mena was quiet, still trying to smooth her habit and veil back into place after her manhandling.

“It might give you back a bit of that lost dignity,” Benny added in a whisper, leaning towards her.

“Sock him, Mother!” One of the older nuns shouted.

“And just like that the teachings of peace and forgiveness of Christ have been forgotten,” Mena murmured.

“If you punch him then he'll stop being a bully,” another nun suggested.

“I don't think Sister Mary Patrick would approve of this,” another nun pointed out.

“Like it nothing, she'd love to see this cheeky man popped in his cheeky face,” yet another nun added.

“I will not,” Mena declared. “We are not animals and I refuse to hit a man without due cause.”

“He just picked you up like you were a duffle bag, just hit him in his pretty face and get it all over with,” Sister Mary Agnes, one of the few nuns Benny could tell apart suggested. “I would,” she added, before crossing herself quickly in a form of silent absolution.

“Aw,” Benny gushed. “She thinks I'm pretty. Come on, Abbess, just give me one solid punch and prove yourself capable. Come on,” he went on, “I know there's an animal concealed under those robes of yours, let the lioness out.”

“Lieutenant?” Mena asked.

The tall man sort of took a thoughtful step back on one foot and considered it quietly, before he answered with a simple, “hit him.”

Mena was quiet, sizing up Benny for a bit.

He could see her small hands curling into fists at her side and tightened his jaw to take the hit.

Instead, Mena's hands relaxed and she shook her head, turning to Annie who was watching.

“We don't hit people who don't deserve it,” she explained to the child. “A lady must always take the high road.”

“As short as she is, the high road would be the best option,” Benny murmured.

Mena leveled her chin almost indignantly, still looking at Annie.

“Good for you, Mother,” Mary Elizabeth said. “Remember Matthew 5:39. But I say to you, do not resist an evil person; but whoever slaps you on your right cheek, turn the other to him also.”

“If he keeps taunting her I'll show him both cheeks,” one of the older nuns grumbled.

Benny laughed to himself. He didn't know much about each individual nun yet, but he knew he liked the older nun with just that one sentence.

“We are not a boxing club,” Mena went on. “Though we will train to defend ourselves, senseless violence is never the right path. Despite how much a man may want to be hit by a lady.”

“It's always been my dream,” Benny added playfully.

“I'm gonna hit him for you,” the Lieutenant broke in.

Laughing, Benny backed away, hands up. “Okay, I wanted to get hit, not knocked out today.”

This seemed to break up the gathering, nuns moving off, heading back to their training.

Mena, still a little fired up, remained for a moment.

“No hard feelings, Thumbelina,” Benny said. “I just wanted to see your form.”

“I'm sure you felt enough of my form while I was riding high on your shoulder,” she returned a little bitterly, before walking off.

Benny sidled up beside the Lieutenant, still grinning. “She was real mad.”

“Yeah.”

“Has kind of a temper.”

“Yeah.”

“I kind of liked it.”

“Easy now.”

“Don't tell me you've never thought of picking her up,” Benny went on. “She's so fucking small.”

The Lieutenant smiled. “I mean, I could.”

“Hell yeah, you could. You could pick me up, big guy.” As they walked off, heading for the infirmary, Annie following behind, the fancy man added, “but don't ever fucking try, because I will lay you out.”

Chuckling, the Lieutenant opened the infirmary door for the shorter man and said, “you could never, little fancy man.”

Inside the infirmary Grayson sat on his cot, reading a well-thumbed copy of some real crime book, looking bored and still angry.

“Hey kid,” Benny greeted. “You need to learn some fighting too or do you think you'll pull some karate moves out of your ass when the time comes?”

“Could kick your ass,” the kid grumbled.

“Want to give it a try?” Benny offered sincerely. “See what you got?”

“You have, like, thirty years on me, think I'd win, grandpa,” Grayson replied.

“Only one way to find out.”

“You think you'll be ready to head out tomorrow morning?” The Lieutenant asked the kid, playing his part perfectly to Benny's delight. At least the marine had a poker face. “We have to get to that airfield before noon if we want to find proper camp before dark.”

“I was ready two days ago, what have you two been doing?”

“Keeping these nuns safe first and foremost,” Benny said. “You know, about eleven lives versus one? Using our brains.”

Grayson glowered at him.

“Can the shitty attitude, we're trying,” Benny went on firmly.

“Tomorrow,” the Lieutenant said firmly, breaking up the tension, “we will continue on the hunt for these men. Right now, I have to head out to get something for dinner for all of us.”

“Not taking your life partner with you?” Grayson asked.

“Surprisingly progressive, kid,” Benny mused, folding his arms. “I don't even think it's an insult.”

“More observational than insulting,” the Lieutenant added.

“You could do worse than me,” Benny teased.

“Could do better too, paon.” The marine retorted dryly, offering Benny a small grin as he grabbed up his rifle. “Don't kill each other while I'm gone, yeah?”

“Can I hang him from a flag pole again?” Benny asked. “Seems to be the best way to take the bite out of him.”

“Fuck you, Benny,” Grayson growled.

“That is no way to speak to your elders, son!” Benny replied.

“Come on, kid. Let's head out for a hunt.” The Lieutenant said, stepping in calmly.

Grayson jumped up, eager to finally help, but couldn't resist grumbling, “don't call me 'kid', old man.”

“Don't call me old, son,” the Lieutenant murmured, ducking out of the infirmary after the boy.

Alone in the infirmary now with Annie, Benny inhaled and turned to her.

“You like those two?”

She shrugged.

Looking at the child in his care, Benny wanted to say something to her, to emote. But emotions were never his thing, once he opened that pandora's box they wouldn't stop. So he reached out and ruffled her hair, the two puffs on top, at least.

He liked the kid, he really did. Hell, he could almost admit to himself that he loved her and if it wasn't for circumstances and his fucking weak need to be helpful, he wouldn't be leaving her at the convent.

There were mornings, before they ran into the marine, that he would wake up from light, cautious sleep, to find her sitting up and watching him.

She never said much, and he always wondered what was going on in her undeveloped little noodle, she didn't even really speak much even when Laila was with them. Horrors, he assumed, something that kept Laila on edge and wary of their surroundings, haunted the two of them and when Benny found the mother and child, or rather when they had found him, they were almost feral.

He assumed it was something to do with the wedding ring on Laila's finger, of the way it took Annie months to finally take his hand without him telling her to.

She kept close to him now, she had lost her father – as far as Benny knew, and now her mother and the child was wafting on the breeze, drifting around with no moorings. Nothing to tether her to safety and comfort, but for him.

And Benny hated that it had to be him that poor girl relied on. He wasn't reliable, not to people who loved him – at least. He had cut his moorings a long time ago, or...maybe they had rotted with Valerie. Moldering in the grave with his beautiful wife, her cold hands clutching the last strands of the rope that had kept him from drifting.

He didn't mind being tethered by Valerie, he liked it even. Whenever he'd go off and come home, he had a home to come to. She would be there, bright and smiling, her flower garden always in bloom, it seemed, even in the cold Rhode Island winters, when the wind came across the Atlantic frigid and cruel.

She had died in the winter, or the early spring, rather. March. The witches tit of a month, the cold, brown spring.

Valerie wanted to be buried, not cremated, so they had to wait another month before she could be buried.

Benny was gone long before that. He had left the night she died, just walked away.

He liked the poetic idea of their beautiful home and everything in it rotting with his wife, like the idea of her garden drying up and withering. No one deserved her things, or her garden or even dare come near anywhere she had walked.

If he could, he would have built a stone wall, higher than the one that kept them safe at the convent, wider than it needed to be, all around Rhode Island. He would have kept everyone from that state. It would become a shrine to Valerie. His angel. Patient and sweet and everything he didn't fucking deserve.

So with no option to do any of that, he burned Rhode Island from his mind, it didn't exist in his world. It was a crater, with his wife dead in the center.

Everything he owned, everything that remained clinging to him when he walked away, was thrown into the ocean to fucking disappear. Except for his wedding band, wrapped like a napkin ring around a rolled-up photo of her, that he kept in his sock, secured by the knife strap he wore.

When he began to feel too alive, he would torment himself, like a form of self-harm, only instead of cutting his body, he wounded his soul. He would unroll that photo and wear that ring and he would feel every moment of sorrow all over again.

Was that healthy? Was grieving like that right? No. He knew it was sick.

But life was fucking sick, because she was good and he was not, and she died, starving to death because the cancer that had started in her uterus had swept viciously through her body, into her stomach and everything she ate, would be thrown up, black and diseased. And she withered fast, like a rose when the frost touches it.

But she didn't wither fast enough not to suffer.

And even now, with the fucking infected, or the dead, whoever you asked, when they ravaged and tore people apart, he somehow lived. At first, he wanted to live, it was human nature to fight to survive.

Valerie wanted to live too, and she died. So he would live for her if only to eat all the pain he couldn't eat of hers.

And then he had Annie and Laila, and while they were never anything more than people surviving together, Benny had formed an attachment, the first kind of real attachment to the two of them. He had begun to re-weave that tether that had rotted away from Valerie and then one morning, Laila was just gone.

She had left a note, she always did when she went out on her own to scavenge.

But she never came back.

And Benny felt another tether begin to rot.

He was a man struggling to hold on to a handful of sand in a wind storm.

So he held Annie's tether tight because he knew she held his just as tight.

Yes. He did love the child.

He wished the world was better for her, but he thanked the chaos and the randomness of numbers that he had her, and if these men had Laila, if she fell prey to them, he would get her back if she was alive and he would hand over the tether that Annie held that connected to him, back to her mother.

But he was still stunted and fucked up emotionally, so all of this, loving the kid and wanting everything for her, came out in a hand rubbing the top of her head. Because Benny's parents didn't hug and Benny didn't know what to do with a child, he and Valerie had never had one and they never talked about having one. And then she died and he had never been around children except when he was one.

So he tousled her hair and thought to himself that maybe someday he'd be able to express himself to someone else.

Maybe someday Rhode Island would exist on his maps again. Maybe Valerie would finally rest in peace because he could move on and grow and learn to be a human being.

Or maybe he would die trying to get Laila back to her mother and that girl back to her brother and maybe there would be no lesson for him to learn, no more room for him to grow.

Maybe Georgia would become to Annie what Rhode Island was to Benny. Not because of him, he didn't assume the child held any love for him, she was only clinging to him because she was lost, no perhaps she would bury Georgia behind a wall, because of her mother, because of her father, because of the dead and because every day she woke up, she had to see a corpse.

No child should ever have to live in a real nightmare.

Or.

Or maybe someday, Annie would stitch Georgia back together, maybe there could be hope for her future. The dead were thinning out and maybe her mother would return and maybe she'd find happiness, though he knew she would still have nightmares about the dead, he had nightmares about the dead, about Laila and Valerie and Annie, all roaming across the wastelands of his dreams, their eyes cloudy, milky with rot, because the cornea's had no blood flow, their fingertips turning black, their skin waxy and bloated.

Since it had begun, Benny had seen too many children among the dead, small forms, corpses that hungered, but never seemed to eat, only tear and shred and maim.

The thing was, the dead or the infected didn't make very loud sounds. They shuffled and they slogged, their feet dragging, but they didn't moan like the movie zombies, they would give off mewl-like moans. Something almost like the air just rising up from their bloated bellies. It was soft enough to miss if you weren't listening for it. And it wasn't often like they were sleeping and then would moan or when they mimicked and exhale of air. They were near silent forms moving like manifest destiny towards eternity.

Beside him, Annie was very much alive and he would make sure she stayed that way. Benny was nothing if resourceful and he could use those resources to the best of his ability.

If brute strength and survival were what the Lieutenant did best, Benny's abilities were subversive action and artful manipulation.

#novel #support an author #Graveyard Dirt & Salt #zombies #sorry it took me a while to post my friends and supporters i had some mental health set backs due to being laid off and jobless #but im back!

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sunshinejs · 5 years

Text

Home to You

A/N: shoutout to @shawnsthighs for coming up with this deployment CONcept! This one’s for you, love 💜

Anyways, I hope you enjoy this little fluff to make up for the back to back angst pieces and Merry Christmas everyone! xx

(And also, the brown beaded bracelet mentioned in this is inspired by the one I keep seeing on his wrist)

————————————————————

Word count: 3.4k -ish

Connor watched as you said goodbye to your family from a distance. He leaned against a pole as he watched your mother hugged you close to her as she cried into your shoulder; trying to get the words out of her mouth between sobs.

Just the sight of that made his heart hurt; it made a frown appear on his lips.

Connor told himself he wasn’t going to cry this time around. He didn’t want to break down again, like he did the first time when you were being deployed. But he also knew that wasn’t physically possible.

This was your 2nd deployment as a marine and it was still difficult for him to believe this was something that you wanted to do; to be brave enough to put your life in danger and be away for an uncertain period of time from your loved ones.

The first time you were away for deployment felt like hell for Connor. The first few weeks, he kept getting nightmares that something horrible had happened to you and that he wasn’t going to see you again. He couldn’t sleep or eat properly and his anxiety peaked during this time. The letters you’ve sent him monthly weren’t enough to assure him that you were safe and sound.

The thought of losing you could literally kill him. He’s heard so many stories of people not coming home from their deployment, one of it that came out of your mouth when you told him about what happened to your father years ago.

And he prays to God that it’ll never happen to you. Because Connor wouldn’t know what he would do if he really lost you.

He watches as you pull away from your younger sister, smiling at her with watery eyes as you pressed a kiss to her head for one last time. You motioned to where Connor stood and your mother nodded understandingly.

You walked over to him slowly; proudly wearing your blue uniform that he wants to hate because it was the one thing that was getting in the way of you and him.

“Hi,” You greeted him. Your voice came out shaky, from all the crying you did while saying goodbye to your family.

Connor shakes his head, already feeling his lips start to tremble with tears in his eyes “You know, I told myself I wouldn’t cry this time around” He confessed “But I don’t think that it’s possible”

You fall into his arms, as you let out the sob you were holding in. Connor’s arms went around your waist as he shuts his eyes; letting his tears fall from his cheeks.

“I think of how you’re putting yourself in danger like this and sometimes I want to be mad at you” He sniffled against your shoulder “Why couldn’t you want to be a lawyer or something, idiot? Why this?”

You laugh in between sobs, tightening your grip around his neck “You and I both know that I would be a shitty lawyer, baby”

“Yeah but at least I would see you almost every day and know that you’re safe in a building” Connor reasoned back “I won’t be having sleepless nights thinking of all the negative thoughts when you’re out there”

You pushed away from him just so you could look at him. Your eyes matched his; puffy and filled with tears “I’m going to be okay, bubs” You reassured him “I know it’s going to be hard to get through with this but you have to trust me when I say that”

“Anything can happen” Connor said in a fragile tone “And I’m just scared, honey. I’m scared I won’t see you again”

Your heart broke at how he sounded. You hated doing this to him, just as much as you hated doing the same thing to your family. You understood their fear, knew their paranoia about you going on your job, but this was something you had to do.

This was something you wanted to do since you were a little girl; to be able to do what your father did and followed his footsteps.

You raised your right sleeve a bit, revealing the brown beaded bracelet that you had on your person at all times. You untied the strings and took it off your wrist. Taking a hold of Connor’s hand, you wrapped it securely around his wrist as he silently watched you.

“Why are you giving me this?” He asked confusingly.

“Because you’re going to hold on to it for me” You told him “And you’re going to keep it safe for me until I see you, okay? This bracelet is my promise to you that in any circumstances, I will come home to you in one piece, Connor Brashier”

“In a year?”

“In a year” You confirmed “I promise”

Connor nodded, smiling softly as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear “Please be careful out there, honey”

“Con, you know I always am” You insisted “It’s not my first time”

“I know… But I always want to make sure you’re extra careful” He said “You’re pretty important in my life and I’m going to need you around when I decide to put a ring on that pretty little finger of yours”

Your cheeks turned red at his words, a smile on your face matching his “Is that a marriage proposal, Brashier?”

“Maybe it is” Connor shrugged “Guess you’ll have to wait until you come home to me to find out”

“Always,” You muttered softly, and rested your head against his chest; listening to his heartbeat for one last time “I’ll always find my way back to you. I love you, Con”

Pressing a kiss to your forehead, Connor breathes out “I love you more, baby”

A year later

A few hours before the concert starts, Connor sat in the green room alone as he read over the handwritten letter in his hand again, with a frown settling on his face.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. You were supposed to be here with him tonight for his 22nd birthday but you weren’t. You were supposed to be home from your deployment but you weren’t. Instead, you were still held up in your base.

He wanted to be mad at you, at your job, at everyone else because all he wanted today was to have his favourite girl physically with him. But he knew he couldn’t. He was just being selfish and it wouldn’t be fair for him to be mad at you.

Dear Connor,

Hi bubs!

I don’t exactly know when you’ll be receiving this letter but happy birthday! (I’m so hoping this got here on time but I could be extremely late, so I’m sorry for that)

I know I’ve apologized so many times for extending my deployment and not being home in time for your birthday but I really am sorry, baby. I’ll make it up to you when I see you next month, I promise.

In the meantime, enjoy your day and go crazy with the boys! (although don’t get too drunk, mister) For this one day, I need you to not worry about me okay? This is your special day and you deserve to have a great time.

I can’t wait to see you soon and be in your arms, my love.

“Hey man”

Shawn’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts as he tears his eyes away from the letter. He met his best friend’s concern gaze, “Everything okay?” Shawn asked worriedly.

“Yeah,” Connor answered shortly, nodding his head” Everything’s fine”

Shawn sat down next to him on the couch and caught a glimpse of the letter in his hand “Doesn’t seem like it” He frowned “Is that from her?”

“Mom got it in the mail yesterday” Connor replied “Can I ask you something?”

“Course, man”

“Is it wrong of me to be mad at her for not being here?” He asked sadly “Does that make me a bad person?”

“Connor, of course not” Shawn insisted “It’s your birthday and you wished she was here; we all get that. But you’ve got to realize that it’s not like she wants this, you know? If it was up to her, she wouldn’t even want to extend her deployment”

“I know that” Connor nodded “It just sucks a lot right now and I haven’t seen her in a year and I swear I’m going to fucking break soon if I don’t hold her in my arms”

“I know it is” Shawn pats his best friend’s back comfortingly “You have to hang on for just a little more and she’ll be in your arms soon, okay? It’ll be quicker than you realize, man”

The door pushed open and Brian walks into the room “Connor, Cez is looking for you” He told his friend.

Connor nodded and stood up from his seat. He folded the letter and slipped it in his jean pocket “Thanks for the talk, Shawn” He said.

“I’m glad it helped” Shawn smiled “And hey, don’t you worry! We’re going to have a good time tonight and freakin’ partyyyy!”

“Hell yeah we are!” Brian cheered.

Connor rolled his eyes playfully and a smile made its way to his lips “You’re not going to get me drunk, idiots”

“We’ll see about that, Brashier!” Brian called out to him before moving to the couch. Once the door was closed and they waited a few seconds later, Brian turns to Shawn “So?”

“The plan is still a go” Shawn grinned mischievously “He has no idea”

“Thank God” Brian sighed in relief “Dylan emailed me the video yesterday and I’ve given a copy to Cez so he can tell the tech people to play it over the big screen later”

“Sounds good” Shawn nodded in response “He’s going to flip shit, isn’t he?”

“He is” Brian agreed “But it’ll be so worth it to see his reaction”

xxx

“Okay, hold on for a second” Shawn spoke into the mic after the song finishes “I just want to say a few things before we continue”

“You guys are familiar with my videographer, right?” Shawn asks as the crowd shouted in reply “Connor Brashier?”

Connor was standing nearby the giant rose at Stage B when he hears his name being mentioned over the speakers. He stopped in his track and stared at the big screen in confusion; wondering what his best friend was doing.

“Well, it’s his birthday today!” Shawn cheered “Can we get a spotlight on the birthday boy please?”

When the light hits him and he sees himself on the big screens, he blushed furiously.

“Connor!” Shawn exclaimed once he sees him on the screen “Can you join me up here on the stage, buddy?”

Connor groans because he already knows Shawn was going to embarrass him. Brian was near him so he walked over to his friend, snatched the equipment out of his hand and pushed him towards the direction of the stage without hearing Connor’s protest “Go!”

Once Connor approached Shawn on the stage, he sees the mischievous grin on Shawn’s face which made him raise an eyebrow “What are you planning, Mendes?” He asked off-mic.

“You’ll see!” Shawn smirked in reply

“On a count to 3, can everyone sing happy birthday to Connor loudly?!”

While everyone in the stadium sang to him and was recording him, all he wanted to do was crawl into a hole. Connor still wasn’t used to the attention he was getting from Shawn’s fans. All he could do was shyly smile and awkwardly stand beside Shawn on stage. Once it ended, he mouthed a ‘thank you’ and waved to the crowd.

“Happy birthday, bro!” Shawn said after, patting his shoulder lightly “And now, the whole team has prepared a little surprise for Connor that we want to show to everyone tonight. Con, we hope you this cheers you up a little and just know that we were given permission to record and put this up on the big screens tonight!”

Shawn forced Connor to turn around so they were facing the screen behind them instead.

The big screen turned black with a countdown from 3 starts. Connor grew more confused by Shawn’s statement but when your face popped on the screen, his heart starts to beat faster.

“Okay, I’m going to ask you some questions now” Dylan’s voice said from behind the camera.

The video shows you in your little room at your base through Dylan’s laptop screen over a Skype session you had with him over a month ago.

“I feel like I’m on a talk show!” You giggled “Is this how celebrities feel like, Dyl?”

“Sure, sis. We’ll go with that” Dylan chuckles “We’ve got about 5 minutes left till you have to end this call so let’s make it quick”

“Okay, shoot”

“When did you and Connor first meet?”

“We met in the park a couple years ago” You answered “I was walking my dog when I saw him taking photos of the trees and I got so mesmerized by the way he was working. Then he caught me staring and like the dumbass I was, just turned around and basically ran home”

“I saw him again a couple days later in the supermarket” You admitted “I was reaching for a box from the top shelf and couldn’t reach it then someone asked from behind me if I needed help. When I realized it was him, I was so embarrassed because he remembered me as the lady who was staring at him in the park then we just got to talking in the middle of the cereal aisle”

“Funny thing was, Connor wasn’t even crept out by it” Dylan chuckled “He came home from the park and told me a pretty girl was at the park with him and he caught her looking at him while he was working on a project. He was upset he didn’t get your name then”

You blushed furiously “Yeah, our love story started because I was acting like a stalker. That’s something to remember, alright”

“Do you remember your first date?”

You smiled at the memory of it, still clear in your mind as if it happened yesterday “He invited me over because he’s been bragging about learning how to cook through Gordon Ramsay’s videos on YouTube and honestly? It was the best first date meal I’ve ever eaten and ever since, Connor makes it a point to cook for date night at least once a week”

“When did you realize he was the one?”

“Dylan!” You whined as you blushed furiously “Do you really have to ask me that?”

“Yes!” He laughs in response “Sorry sis, it’s Shawn and Brian’s orders. Can’t say no to them”

“I can’t believe thousands of people are going to see this” You groaned “I’m going to feel just as embarrassed as Connor is”

“Shut up and answer the question”

“When I first told him that I wanted to join the Marine, he was so supportive, you know?” You said “Most guys would’ve freaked out or something but Connor knew why I so set on joining the Marine and he told me, ‘Do whatever you feel is right, baby. I’m behind you 100%’ and I just knew right there that he was the one”

“But I know it gets tough on him” You continued with a frown appearing on your face “I know he’s scared, just like my mom and sister and hell; I’m scared too. And I just hate having to worry them all the time when I’m on deployment”

“You’ll see them soon” Dylan insisted “Just gotta hold on for a little while, right?”

“Yeah,” You nodded “Made a promise I’d be home to them and I don’t want to break that”

“Is there anything you want to say to him?” Dylan asks “In the mean time while you’re still away?”

You look at the camera on your laptop and smiled softly “I miss you so much, bubs and I’ll be home sooner than you realize. Happy birthday, my love”

When the video ends there, Connor doesn’t even realize that he had tears in his eyes. The screams from the crowd were so loud but at that moment, it felt like it was only him in that stadium.

While he appreciates his brother and friends putting that together for him as an attempt to make him feel better, he can’t help but feel more homesick for your embrace now.

For him to wait another month until he could do that was honestly the worst feeling for Connor right now.

Shawn notices the look on Connor’s face instantly and when he looks to the side and sees Andrew’s thumbs up, his smile grew wider. He taps Connor’s shoulder lightly to get his attention and when he does, he points to the crowd; where the spotlight was shining.

To Connor, it felt like he was dreaming. He blinks a couple of times to make sure it was real because he didn’t want to believe it.

You stood amongst the crowd not too far away from the stage, still in your uniform, with a bouquet of flowers in your hand. You’re looking at him with a huge smile on your face and if anyone looks closer, they would see the tears in your eyes as well.

“Ladies and gentleman, back from her year long deployment; please give a warm welcome to y/n!” Shawn spoke into the mic as Connor practically runs off the stage to give you the biggest hug.

With his amount of force, he nearly knocked you to the ground as he tackled you in a tight hug. The flowers were long forgotten as they dropped to your legs.

Connor buries his face in the crook of your neck and breathes in the scent he has missed for so long. He doesn’t care if he’s crying in front of thousands of people who were recording this moment; he was so thankful to be holding you in his arms.

Shawn watches from the stage and he has tears in his eyes at the reunion happening in front of him. He’s smiling widely and wipes the tear away as he spoke into the mic “This next one is called fallin’ all in you and this is dedicated to Connor and his girl”

You and Connor didn’t say a word to each other. You just stood there in each other’s arms and enjoyed the moment.

You were home in his arms and Connor has never felt happier.

xxx

“I can’t believe you’re finally home” Connor muttered softly. It was a few hours later after the concert and Connor’s birthday dinner, you two were curled up under his blanket “It feels like this is all a part of a good dream”

You rested your chin on his chest and lifted your head to look at him “If I’m dreaming baby, please don’t wake me up” You smiled cheekily as you sang Shawn’s song “Every night I’m with you, I fall more in love”

“Everyday I’m with or without you, I fall more in love” Connor corrected “I missed you so much, baby”

“I missed you too, honey” You pressed a kiss to his bare chest “So much”

“I felt like I was going to break soon if I don’t get your kisses”

You rolled your eyes playfully and cooed “I’ll give you all the kisses you want after this to make up for the one year, Brashier”

Connor lifts his right hand to show you the brown beaded bracelet securely wrapped around his wrist “You can take it off if you want your bracelet back, babe”

“I think you should keep it” You told him “So you’ll have a part of me with you always”

“That means you’ll need to have a part of me with you always, right?”

“Sure, I guess”

Connor takes your hand in his and you feel the cold metal against your finger. Looking down at your intertwined fingers, you see his favourite ring sitting on you ring finger “Con, this is your favourite ring” You noted “You never take it off. Ever”

“I know, but you’re an exception” He smiled as he tucked a strain of hair behind your ear “It’s my promise to you that I’ll continue to love you through good and bad days and it’s a promise that someday I’ll have the guts to ask for your hand in marriage”

You blushed in response as you took a hold of his hand and pressed a soft kiss to the back of his hand “I know that’s not right now but my answer to that question is always going to be yes, Connor D. Brashier”

————————————————————

Reblog, like or leave a comment; always appreciated! ❤️

x rina

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@hurts-like-hell-xx @connordavidscamera @r3ader @tinycertain @green-lxght @queenmxndes @turtoix @zigzagsandzebras @btsbyconnor @heart-struck @enchantingbrowneyedgirl @shawns-swallow @imaginashawnns @zaahidahhh @vinylmendes @adelaidestreets @daisyangei @curiouslycryptic

*lmk if you want to be removed/tagged!

#connor brashier #connor brashier x reader #connor brashier fic

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thistangledbrain · 3 years

Text

I’m writing when my schedule allows! Sorry I’m having to lump days together- but here’s 14 & 15. ☺️

Autism Acceptance Month

Day 14!

“Routine”

Good topic!!

We love routine & structure. Breaks from said routine should come with plenty advance warning, usually, because even if it’s an activity we love, if you spring it on us suddenly, we will likely be less than thrilled. (For example, one beautiful summer morning we approached my youngest and said “let’s go to King’s Dominion today!”...he was about 8. KD is one of his favorite places. But he had already started gaming and was *pissed* about the change of plans. I myself only have two scenarios where I take a sudden change in plans in stride: military/high stress situations, and if it’s my idea. Like if I go INTO a situation knowing things might change on a whim, like chaotic times or what to do on any given vacation day, I usually roll with it really well.) Some auties are better with this than others - remember, we’re all different - if you’ve been reading along since the beginning, you’ll remember I said we all sort of have a “mixing board”, and specific traits are at different levels in different people...and it also tends to ebb and flow as we age.

“Routine” also encompasses what we expect in our immediate environment, to me. I remember when I was a kid and my Momaw (grandmother who mostly raised me) changed her frames on her glasses from those black hornrims to more delicate frames, and the lenses were a different shape, too.

Oh. My. God. I hated it. I HATED it. To this day, I scowl when I think about it. It upset me so badly. She was my rock, my steady - and when her appearance changed, I had a very visceral reaction. I don’t remember if I was ever able to articulate what was wrong, but she must have figured it out, because from there on out when she changed her glasses, I was involved in picking new ones. (That made it SO much easier to accept.) On the same topic, my husband has kept his head shaved since well before I met him. He was still in the Marines when I met him (I had just gotten out 3 months prior), and the man I fell in love with had a shaved head and clean face. Since he’s gotten out, I get uncomfortable when he lets his hair get too long...I’ve gradually come to accept and even appreciate his goatee, but when the rest of his facial or head hair gets long between cuts, it makes me squirm. I am usually more distant when he’s all shaggy - it’s not that I think he looks bad, it’s just that it’s not my familiar guy. (Oh and it *is* a sensory issue. I hate the way facial hair feels when it touches my face - mustaches are particularly offensive.)

But back on “daily routine”....this intense love of the structure *again* comes in handy with the behaviorally challenged and traumatized dogs I work with. (Oh yeah - it came in handy raising two autie boys, too, obviously.) I’m hyperobservant of dogs’ behavior & realized early on that disruptions in routine caused upset or even chaos. Dogs who were not destructive became destructive. Dogs who were calm and measured became frantic. So even when *i* get more relaxed about routines, I am cognizant of the fact that it upsets *them*, and we make adjustments for that. Structure and routine are the bedrocks of working with a “broken” dog. Predictability is key until trust and confidence is gained.

Our love of routine and structure also comes in handy in the military. Of course there are times when a lot of unexpected shit happens, but like...you still have a *mission*, if that makes sense, so shit that happens while accomplishing that mission is whatever (again, same with dogs). Adapt and overcome.

But let’s talk just daily (civilian) life, right?

If I don’t set my alarm early enough to drink a good bit of coffee (slowly and undisturbed) and get used to the idea, for about an hour, that I’m awake and now must Person, it’s a bad day, ‘tater. I don’t care if I have to get up at 3 am to have that hour before work or travel, I NEED that hour. Sometimes I wonder how I made it through motherhood...(I guess once again, when it’s important enough, you just suck it up, buttercup). I also have my evening routines that are important, as did my kidlets, growing up.

Screwing with those routines usually means short tempers, hatred of everything around you, sometimes meltdowns, and just an all around bad time for everyone involved.

So if you have auties in your life, understand that they may *need* that nap during that *specific* time of day, meals should be in certain timeframes, and so on. We all have our little rituals, too, and when those are disrupted, we get disgruntled. We tend to resist changes...even introducing a new food dish or, say, not having spaghetti on Tuesdays when you usually have spaghetti on Tuesdays, your favorite mug not being available for use/lost/broken & now you have to use a different one, not getting to shower before work if that’s your usual, things like that can cause MASSIVE anxiety. I don’t know about other people’s Autie kids, but I know MINE handled routine disruption/change *so* much better when *involved* in the change. Like, sorry that it’s bedtime, but you have choices in what jammies you want to wear, what story you want read, and so on. I know I’m making a new thing for dinner tonight - how about you come help me make it? Stuff like that.

So...I’m ending this post rather abruptly awkwardly & I’m aware it’s a little redundant and scattered, but it was written over the course of 2 days because I’m busy with a dog and a stressed out teenager lately. 🤷🏻‍♀️ Sorry about that!

————————————-

Day 15!

“Everyone should know”...

I could probably keep adding to this post daily. Sigh.

Everyone should know even nonverbal autistics have something to say - you should read their blogs & find out. Everyone should know it offends and hurts us when you treat us as lesser somehow - especially if we know we’re smarter than you, to be frankly honest. Everyone should know autism is a *developmental* “disorder”, NOT an intellectual one - the weirdest, hand flapping, rocking, screeching, seeming mess of an Autie might be one of the most brilliant writers you’ve ever read - I’m dead serious. Everyone should know we all have a voice but sometimes do need some help finding it (and “voice” doesn’t mean just speaking.) Everyone should know talking about autism like it’s an “epidemic” that needs to be “eradicated” invalidates our very existence, and I don’t think I need to expound on what that must feel like, yes? Everyone should know that most (maybe all, idk) of us *would not change* the fact that we are autistic - we aren’t “suffering” with it, YOU are, apparently. We’re occasionally *frustrated* with our brains, but a whole lot more comfortable with how we are than a lot of neurotypicals seem to be. Everyone should know that if someone seems “mildly autistic” (which is what is said about me by people who don’t KNOW me 🙄), know that YOU experience my autism mildly - I don’t. We KNOW you don’t approve...we either hide (mask), or we flip you the big middle finger and say “too damn bad” - and both are usually true with autistic women. (Lots of us start off trying to fit in, but really run out of patience with it. I’ve noticed most of the boys don’t seem to give a flying shit about “fitting in” from jump street LOL...) Everyone should know a LARGE percentage of us are NOT heterosexual. Everyone should know neurodivergence has always been within the human species - it’s just we have more names for shit now, and it’s a little more more socially acceptable to be different, so there are more people “living out loud”, as it should be. Everyone should know that lots of delayed autistic kids grow up to be brilliant scientists and engineers and contribute massively to society - look at Einstein. 🤷🏻‍♀️ Everyone should know we’re human beings, and should be treated as such. xx

#asd #autism #autistic #acceptance

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astyle-alex · 4 years

Text

[FanFic] Start with Why | the Old Guard

Start With Why (Part 5 / 6)

Fandom: the Old Guard Pairings: Background Nicky x Joe Characters / Focus: OT5 + Copley, reacting to Booker's betrayal Rating: Gen Audiences Warnings: None (well, language, because the team is quite colorful) Total Word Count: 10,288 Chapter Word Count: 1,305

Summary:

The thing about betrayal is that it hurts. Sometimes it hurts too much to see the broader situation clearly. But after Booker's betrayal, the team has to look at themselves and see how every one of them is culpable. Booker may have done the deed, but his measly 200 years makes him a child to the others, especially Andy, and like babysitters are to blame when their charge sets the curtains on fire, the Family needs to ask themselves WHY and accept the honest answers. Why Copley, Why Merrick, and Why something made Booker believe that his choice was the right one for his Family...

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|| Read on Patreon | Read on Ao3 ||

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Part V :: NILE

Bringing them to Copley feels like leading Dizzy to her first confession— after the bombing that had nearly taken Jay from them.

It was a revelatory experience, one that truly was religious.

It was righteous and important, and now, it makes the first bit of fucking sense out of why she is even there when these god damn world-shaping immortals couldn’t possibly need little old South Side Nile Freeman for anything significant.

Nicky stares and stares like a man standing at Heaven’s Gates.

He is standing in the presence of a holiness he’d come to doubt over centuries of having his Faith tested— more even, Nile could see that he was realizing exactly how his doubts hadn’t been half as deeply rooted as he’d feared.

His tears don’t fall and he stands silently, and his shoulders don’t quite shake, but there’s a clear shudder now and then as an age-old tension in him dissipates.

Watching Nicky almost makes Nile cry.

But watching him hurts less than watching the others.

Joe is praying under his breath, to Allah and the very beauty of creation. His fingers run over the strings connecting their small good deeds to the outpouring of good aftermaths that came in the slight delay of consequences.

He looks at Copley like he can almost understand his brother’s deep betrayal.

Copley believes in them, in a way they haven’t for a damn long while.

Copley looks at them like they could make the sun rise on a whim and for someone like Joe to feel the resonance of that Faith… for him to realize it… He knows the depth of his own doubts would be dwarfed by Booker’s, so for him to see the grandeur in this clearly shows him how easily Booker could connect with Copley over the pain of having lost a family and been unable to see a path beyond the hurt…

But then Andy… Andy can’t keep herself at standing, old girl just falls into a chair like gravity ain’t workin’ right for her.

“Maybe this is the why, Andy,” Nile pushes, talking with the certainty she’s found in this new sense of purpose flooding through her voice.

Andy just nods, too lost in all the memories.

The 150 years or so that Copley has compiled don’t even scratch the surface of the ocean Andy’s sinking through. He looks like he wants to ask for her autograph, but a look from Nile has him nodding with a promise that shows he’s aware she needs time to process.

And Copley… Nile gets why Booker liked him, he’s a good guy at base who wants to do good. He’s just been a dumbass in how he’s been going about it.

But grief can do that to a person.

Not everyone has the strength of Nile’s Mama.

And Copley paired with Booker… bad idea to worse, with extra alcohol. There’s a damn good reason ordnance are not kept near the barracks, after all.

For his part, Copley is a god damn champ.

Doesn’t ask where Booker is, doesn’t blink when a trio of immortals starts to cry and pray and fall. He just states his case for how he values them, for how their work is critical to keeping even the worst of worlds progressing on a more even kind of keel.

Eventually, Andy looks to Nicky.

He dips his head— pleading, not acceptance.

Andy is the one who looks away.

She flings herself up to her feet and actually gets close enough to read the articles that Copley has connected.

There’s a straightness in her shoulders that Nile never realized had been missing, a straightness in her spine.

Nicky looks to Joe— who will not look at him.

But Nile remembers how her parents used to fight. How Mama had this look that was just plain quelling in a certain slant, and yet could burn through any pretense of ignorance in another. Joe knows his Nicky’s looking, and if Joe knows Nicky’s looking, the battle is already lost for him in pretending he could keep his eyes away.

When Joe turns, Nicky tips his head.

Like with Andy, there’s a whole conversation in that stare.

But so much deeper between lovers.

Already, Nile can read so much in this trio’s every tiny gesture.

After another hundred or two hundred or a thousand years… she’ll be just as close to them as they are now among each other.

The thought is only sorta terrifying.

Mostly it’s exhilarating.

She can do so much good with them, more than she ever could with the Marines.

She can see Joe cave before Joe can feel it— though her recognition comes well after Nicky’s ever-stoic and serene expression twitches towards a smile.

“Ten days,” Joe says after spouting off a string of curse words in an older form of Arabic than Nile can interpret. “I don’t want to see that fucking traitor’s face for at least ten god damn frickin’ days. And I want a year off before we even think about the possibility of working with that asshole again. You are all fucking saps and bullies and I hate you all. Especially you, Nile, because you are the most annoying little sister in the whole wide world and my heart overflows with a joy so hot it hurts every time I think of how I’m grateful that you are now my Family.” “I hate how well that sappy shit works for you, jackass,” Nile tells him as she hugs him.

“It never gets any less annoying,” Andy contributes. “The fact that he pulls it off so well just makes him that much more punchable each time it happens.”

�� Then Andromache the Scythian rounds on Copley.

To his credit, the little ex-spook doesn’t piss himself. He doesn’t even wince.

If Andy kills him now, he’ll die believing that he served his purpose here on earth.

Nile knows Andy is neither cruel enough for that, nor kind enough.

She forgot, briefly, how precious all life is to her— but now she remembers that resolve.

Her ultimatum to Copley is accepted with true grace. Copley says he would be honored, and Nile honestly believes him.

He’ll have to be watched, and he’ll be kept far closer than a trusted confidant could roam, but Nile thinks he’ll earn their confidence eventually.

“Andy,” Nile calls as they head down to the car from Copley’s. “I’m sorry about what I said about you. You’re not a monster. You never were, you just... I was scared… of you and of becoming you because I thought I might forget the me I left behind…”

Andy turns away before Nile first whole sentence is out.

Nile honestly doesn’t quite know what compelled her to keep talking.

“You don’t apologize to Family, kid,” Joe tells her, clapping a hand on her shoulder.

“But we will listen to any words your heart must speak,” Nicky adds from her other side, nudging lightly into her shoulder. “Andromache just… gets embarrassed easily.”

“I heard that, you pretentious holy fucker,” Andy gripes loudly, starting the engine with the threat to drive away without them. The others scramble to catch up, and as Nile slides into the backseat, and falls asleep almost immediately, she notes that what she’s feeling is all the awful stress of… everything since her last day in Afghanistan sliding softly away.

She died in Afghanistan, and that will haunt her (and her birth-family) forever, but she is not, and will never be, alone.

It’s something she did not realize she was so uncertain of until finding real connection to this collection of ancient, damaged idiots and really felt them pulling close as her new Family.

Nile falls asleep feeling safe and warm and more hopeful than she has in decades.

- - - - -

|| Read on Patreon | Read on Ao3 ||

#fanfic #the old guard #nicky x joe #Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolo di Genova #nicolo di genova #yusuf x nicolo #yusuf al kaysani #nile freeman #sebastian le livre #james copley

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something-tofightfor · 5 years

Text

Firestarter (Drabble #14)

Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader

Word Count: 1777

Rating: M (Language, talk of murder)

Author’s Note: I like this side of Billy, and giving him a girl that’s gonna deal with it - and not judge. Please enjoy, @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes ... and thank you for the request!

“I’m going to go and get some firewood.” Billy sniffed, standing up and wiping his hands on his jeans. “Can I have the keys?” You rolled your eyes but stood as well, reaching into the backpack that was next to your tent and fishing out the keys for Billy.

“No you’re not. We’re in the middle of the woods, Billy. There’s plenty of firewood here. You don’t need the keys.” Billy’s tongue darted out, and his face smoothed into that impassive look you knew all too well. “Where are you going, Russo?” He shook his head.

“You know I can’t tell you that.” Billy stepped closer, his hands moving to your waist as he lowered his face next to yours, mouth moving against your ear. “The less you know, the better.” Dammit. You’d figured that Billy agreeing to go camping with you as long as he could pick the place meant that he was on assignment again, but you hadn’t ever imagined that he’d leave to take care of business. “I’ll be back in an hour, and then how about we see if we can pop that air mattress of yours, hmm?” You nodded before he’d even stopped speaking, and Billy stepped away from you, eyes moving over your face in the fading light.

“Be careful, Billy.” He locked eyes with you and offered a smile, the expression pulling at the edges of the large scars on his cheeks and the ones on his nose. You loved him just the same both before and after the accident, but the times when he let his guard down, let himself react naturally to things instead of hiding his emotions were the times when those feelings were the strongest - and this was one of them.

“I always am.” He leaned in, lips finding yours quickly. “An hour.” He nipped at your nose as he stood, spinning on his heel and climbing into the driver’s seat of your car before slowly backing down the dirt road and turning so that the car disappeared into the woods. After you could no longer see the taillights, you went back to what you had been doing, mind racing.

You knew that there were aspects of Billy’s job that he didn’t talk about - things that he did with and for and to people that he was paid well for. These things didn’t bother you, because while they weren’t exactly legal, Billy had learned his lesson while in the Marine Corps, and refused to do business with anyone that wasn’t fully trusted by the people that mattered the most to him: Frank, Curtis and David Lieberman. The three of them were more deadly than an entire army, and while Frank and Billy were hotheaded and quick to act, Curtis was their voice of reason - and David was the brains of the operation. Things had been tense for a while, especially after Billy had gone against his own better judgement and warned Frank about the incoming attack by the people behind Cerberus, finding a way to do so without tipping any of the wrong people off. You’d needed to go off the grid, leaving New York (and Billy) for nearly a year with Maria and the kids while he and Frank took care of things with the help of Curtis and David, whose own family had been shuttled off on an extended vacation as well.

Frank, Billy and Curtis had systematically eliminated Schoonover, Morty Bennett and Carson Wolf, but Rawlins had been the real issue, and the three men hadn’t been able to save everyone involved in that mess. Though you weren’t allowed any direct contact with Billy or Frank, you’d kept tabs on the things that happened, anxiously awaiting a headline telling you that something terrible had happened. Plenty of Homeland agents had lost their lives, including partners Sam Stein and Dinah Madani, who had been tasked with finding Frank and keeping tabs on Billy, who was operating as usual, running Anvil from out in the open and figuring that his status would protect him - along with playing double agent between his own operation and the US-based Cerberus unit.

It had worn him down both physically and mentally, and that’s why, when moving in on Rawlins for the final time, Billy had been caught off guard and injured severely, requiring months of care in the hospital. You and Maria had headed back to New York as soon as it was safe, and the recovery had been slow - even for Frank, but with the bulk of his Anvil fortune, the four men had come out on top, and their names were often whispered among the military elite… which is how they continued to get their side work on top of the legitimate business that they ran.

Billy and Frank would often disappear for unexplained periods of time - sometimes together, more often not, but always watching each other’s backs - and you and Maria had long ago learned not to ask questions, but that didn’t make it easier. You knew that what they did ‘off the clock’ was dangerous, but you also knew that they’d never let anything happen to each other; Billy’s risk had proven him loyal in Frank’s mind, and that was more than enough motivation.

The sound of a car pulling up startled you out of your thoughts, and you put down the mug you’d been drinking from, shielding your eyes from the headlights before they were cut off and the car came to a stop. That was fast. Billy stepped out of the driver’s side, wordlessly turning around to the back door and opening it, pulling out a bundle of firewood. “Told you I was going to get some wood,” he said as he walked toward you, arms full. “Did I make it back within the hour?” You glanced down at your watch and nodded, smiling as you stood and walked to his side. He’d changed between leaving and coming back, and as you reached out to put your arms around him, you gave him a once over. “Let’s get this fire started.”

Billy busied himself next to the fire pit, arranging the branches and lighting the kindling, and in no time, he had a large fire going. “We gonna roast marshmallows, Russo?” With a laugh, Billy shook his head, moving back to the car and popping the trunk.

“No, but I’ve got some other stuff to add to this fire.” He carried a small bundle toward the flames, kneeling and as he passed you, you got a whiff of a coppery smell. Those are his clothes, and they’re covered in blood. Even as he slowly peeled the pieces apart and laid them atop the flames, one at a time, you felt your heart beating faster.

“Billy, are you hurt?” It wasn’t until he added the shirt that he’d been wearing, a long sleeved one in black that you saw the smears of red on his skin - bright against his forearms, which were exposed in the dark blue sweatshirt he’d changed into. “There’s so much blood, it’s….”

“Not mine, I’m fine.” His tone was clipped, but you didn’t detect pain in it, and you moved next to Billy, crouching down in the dirt alongside him. “Had to get a little closer than usual, but it’s nothing to worry about.” He turned to you, finally setting down the pants he’d been wearing and waiting until the flames were licking over the fabric to turn to you. “Frankie ‘n I made enough tonight to buy you a house in the Catskills.” He looked down at his hand, making sure there was no blood on it before he reached up, pushing the hair away from your face. “If that’s what you still want.” Who did you kill, Billy Russo? But you didn’t want to know, couldn’t know, since it would mean being in it with him - though you already were. That’s a lot of money. “Yeah, it is.”

“I didn’t realize that I said that out loud.” You smiled at him and Billy wrinkled his nose, leaning in. “But I do want that, Billy. Sometime, with you.” He kissed you on the mouth, tongue smoothly sliding past your lips and into your mouth as he held your head with his clean hand, kissing you deeply. “Shit, Billy.” You were breathless when he pulled back, eyes on yours for long moments - black as the darkness surrounding the two of you, but full of emotion - and you shook your head. “What was that for?”

“For bein’ there for me no matter what. Most people wouldn’t stick it out knowin’ what I’m doin’.” His accent was always more pronounced when he came back from his missions and he was keyed up, but this was different than usual, and you could see his chest heaving. “But you do, and you will, and I think… I know what that means to me.” He shook his head, looking back at the fire, where the pants and shirt were still slowly turning into nothing more than ash. “I love you. I know I didn’ tell you that much before, but I do. I did. And I always will, too.”

You didn’t know what to say, and after a moment, you watched as he used one of the metal rods that you’d brought with you to stoke the fire to prod at the logs, causing the flames to grow. He reached over, adding another large piece, which caught almost immediately. “Billy, when you’re… satisfied with the way those are burning, I’ll be in the tent.” He stayed silent for a few minutes as you stood, unzipping your hoodie and tossing it onto the fire as well. He jerked his head upward, but before he spoke, you did, shrugging your shoulders. “Now we can say we had to burn some clothes and it won’t be a lie. We can say we got skunked or something.” As your hoodie caught, the flames dancing and casting shadows across Billy’s face, he stood and looked down at his arms, taking a deep breath.

“Let me go and wash this shit off of my skin, and then we’re gonna go and destroy that air mattress.” His words chilled you - but in a good way, and you grinned at him, lifting your shirt over your head as you turned away, hearing the hiss of his breath as he saw that you were already braless. “You’re in for it tonight,” he called after you, voice thick with arousal. “You have no idea.”

As you unzipped the tent flaps and ducked in, you fought back a laugh. Oh, I have a pretty good idea.

---

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wardencommanderrodimiss · 5 years

Text

Witches, Chapter 11: I split another giant chapter in half. In this portion, I set up a filler case that exists purely to set the scene and allow me to make up two very bad AA-style pun names; shit hasn’t quite gotten real but it sure is about to; and Athena makes some new friends.

[Seelie of Kurain Chapter Masterlist] [ao3]

[Witches Chapter Masterlist] [ao3]

----

The Wright Anything Agency isn’t lucky.

Apollo should just expect that from the start. He didn’t, this time, because he trusted Phoenix - that being a loaded statement - to know what he was talking about and assumed - bad idea - that if he bothered to say Tenma Taro would be weaker at midsummer, then there was some chance of waiting. That it would lay low to wait out the fervor of the trial and the attention turned toward the Vale. That it wouldn’t wreak havoc immediately.

But they’re just a few days into May when the office phone rings with a call from a young woman who lives in Tenma Town and has been charged with robbing her prior place of employment. “Jinxie Tenma gave me your number,” she says, in between sobs, “and said you would believe me th - that - that I think Tenma Taro did it.”

“Of course we believe you,” Apollo assures her. Athena stands on her chair, propping herself on her desk, leaning forward to listen. With her ears, she can probably hear the other end of the line just fine. She might also be able to hear Apollo’s - not doubt, exactly, or disbelief, but the uncertainty he keeps feeling over Tenma Taro. None of them have seen it. They have Filch’s word, and they all know he wasn’t lying, but could he have been mistaken? Could Phoenix’s fae ‘friends’ have been mistaken in what they thought Phoenix was asking them about?

(He doubts it, but he still doesn’t think he knows well enough what they’re getting into.)

Athena searched all of LA’s used car lots for one that was yellow - “I’m like the cab driver for all of you at the agency, and also I just love yellow” - and with a new-old car they take the well-worn path back up to Nine-Tails Vale. Tenma Town is perched a little higher up the valley but has a similar old-fashioned cobblestone vibe, though some more modern office buildings dot the streets here and there. The town square is centered on a large fountain and a statue that Apollo doesn’t think is Tenma Taro, but it’s birdlike enough that it evokes that image.

Their client, Isabella Pyrria - picked up overnight, released on bail in the morning, returned home, and called them as soon as she made it back - is still teary-eyed when they meet her at a bench by the fountain. She explains that she likes to go on walks in the evenings and her favorite route goes past the antiques store she was fired from at the beginning of April, and she hadn’t bothered to change her route because a lot of cool moths congregate under the awning at the cafe next door. She pulls out her phone to show them pictures. Athena nods at each photo, solemnly and knowingly. “I’m more of a marine mammals person myself,” she says, “but I like the fuzzy ones and their…” She holds her hands to her forehead, two fingers raised on each, and wiggles them. “Antenna. What’re your favorite animals, Apollo?”

“Can we get back to the case, please?” he asks.

Isabella swears to them that when she passed by the store sometime around 10 pm, there was nothing wrong. She didn’t stop long to investigate this spring’s batch of caterpillars, because she was trying to get to the corner store before it closed, because she hadn’t had anything for dinner. She made it there, stayed until closing chatting with the owner and petting the bodega cat, and when she came back out she heard the sirens and saw the police cruiser lights.

The antique store’s security camera, mounted outside above the door, broke two months ago and was never fixed, but only employees knew this. Security tapes from cameras outside other buildings further down the street in both directions showed she was the only person who had passed by either. Anyone walking to the antiques store would be spotted by either of those.

“But Tenma Taro doesn’t have to walk,” Isabella says. “It could just fly straight down and land in front and not be seen.”

“Why would a yokai rob an antiques store?” Athena asks. “Why would a yokai rob anywhere?”

“To cause chaos?” Apollo suggests. What do yokai even do - they’re all so very individual? He did some cursory internet research but couldn’t find anything on Tenma Taro; it might as well have just come out of nowhere here in California. The scroll Jinxie said was the only image of it really is only one of two, the Forbidden Chamber scroll showing the gold ore being the other.

“I don’t know why anyone would rob that antiques store,” Isabella says, toying with the hair tie around her wrist. “It’s got pretty stuff but it’s all cheap. There’s nothing worth taking there.”

Her fingers, plucking at the hair tie and smacking it against her wrist, are illuminated red. “Ms Pyrria,” Apollo says. “Are you being fully honest with us? There really isn’t anything that you or anyone would want to take?”

She lowers her eyes to her hands. “We did have, um, a coupon deal with a really good pizza place over in the Vale. Supposed to give one out with every purchase but I kinda just, um, took a whole bunch once I got fired. But that was it.”

That looks true. Apollo glances to Athena, who nods with a secondary confirmation. Okay. They’ve got this much figured out. Now to the scene of the crime.

The antique shop’s windows are shattered, everything that was displayed in them cracked and shattered across the floor inside and the sidewalk outside. Athena leans into the window to examine a typewriter. “You don’t think there could’ve been some kind of magic artifact in here that it wanted to get?” Apollo asks. “Something languishing as just a normal family heirloom that someone dumped off here?”

“Ooh, maybe,” Athena says. “I guess they’d probably have to take inventory to really find out if stuff’s missing, and this is uh - big mess.” She points with her thumb at the police tape across the doorway. “Can we just head in?”

“Er—” They should probably introduce themselves to a detective first, lower the chances of being yelled at once they’re inside. Apollo glances in through the doorway, hoping to catch sight of anyone in there investigating. Maybe most of the investigating already happened? “I guess…?”

Before he’s really finished saying it, Athena ducks under the tape and heads inside. Apollo lifts it up to follow her. If he’s honest with himself he’s not sure what he hopes they can find. Feathers again, maybe? The interior of the shop is densely packed with tables and shelving upturned and overturned, and what would have once been a clear path or two through are cluttered. Apollo steps over a tall wicker flower stand, lying on its side, and a pillow that was probably hand-embroidered. Athena has stopped with her neck craned to the side, reading the titles of the few books still left on a shelf.

Oh, this is going to be rough, to stay focused, when this isn’t a murder and there’s not a particular area, the place where a body was, the place where the killing happened, to hone in on. He’s defended a smattering of other cases between the large nightmarish ones that weren’t murders, but neither did they have very complicated scenes. And no co-counsel distracted by knick-knacks, either.

“Athena,” he says. She jumps, already having become engrossed. “We should probably give the whole place a once-over, see if anything jumps out, find a detective to talk to, and then we can try and look for anything else that—”

“Hey!” A woman’s voice cuts through the stillness, a loud, indignant squawk. “Who’s in here? This is a - oh! Yo! Apolly!”

Athena’s eyebrows rise and disappear beneath her bangs. “D-Detective Faraday?” Apollo asks, turning around and unable to look for her due to making sure he doesn’t place his feet on anything breakable.

“Long time no see!” Kay chirps, with an air of familiarity that far surpasses the scant two times they’ve actually met. From New Years he’s pretty sure that she gives Y-suffix nicknames to everyone she can, but that doesn’t make it any better when Athena is snickering at him. “I mean, I expected to see you soon, what with Tenma Taro, but not quite this soon. And who’s this?” She extends a hand to Athena. “Hi, I’m Detective Kay Faraday!”

“Defense attorney Athena Cykes!” The two seem to be competing to see who can more enthusiastically shake the other’s hand. “Nice to meet you! What can you tell us about the case so far?”

Laughing brightly, Kay shakes her head, her black hair flying everywhere. “I’m not Emmy,” she says. “I’m not just gonna purposely give up the prosecution’s whole case right here. Besides.” She props her hands on her hips. “Tonight we’re going hunting for Tenma Taro anyway, and I’m sure you’ll get enough accidental stuff from us on how we totally believe yeah, it’s that big ol’ turkey causing trouble.”

Athena asks who “Emmy” is, and as Kay explains Ema and her general lack of concern for prosecutorial secrecy, Apollo picks his way through the mess to a door left ajar in the back, into a smaller, even more cluttered room, where none of the objects still left on the shelving have price tags. Prosecutor Debeste stands wedged between a rocking chair and a dresser with a shattered mirror, his upper body twisted awkwardly to give him room to move his arms and jot something down in a little notebook. “Where’s the line between antiques and junk?” Apollo asks, deciding that there is no good way any further into this room, and since he can see most of it, he should probably just stay planted here in the doorway.

“How much it sells for, maybe?” Sebastian offers up weakly. “Is this a trick question?”

“I guess it is, since I don’t have an answer.” Apollo has difficulty trying to survey the room; there’s too much going on, too much clutter that keeps drawing his eye one way and then another, and it takes longer than he thinks it should for him to notice the deep scratches in the wall. Three rivets straight down, tearing apart the wallpaper and wood, about two inches in between them, spaced like claw marks. “Do you have an explanation for that?” he asks, pointing to it.

Sebastian shakes his head and his glasses slide down his nose. “Not really a plausible one besides ‘giant bird monster’. The defendant could persum - presumably have made them with something she found laying around here, there’s some old farm tools kinds of things, but then the question is—”

“Why bother?”

Sebastian nods sharply. “Exactly. It’s not a message or any code or something that the shop owner recognizes, and it would be a waste of time with more chance to be caught. And with—” He points down, in front of Apollo, and Apollo examines the floor to see more gashes in the wood, of the same spacing as those on the wall, like a giant bird-monster walking about on its talons. “That, too.”

And maybe someone’s trying to frame a yokai for the crime, again, play on those fears, but it seems like even more effort to go to. “Is there anything noticeably missing?” Apollo asks. Plenty could be not-so-noticeably missing, all kinds of little knick-knacks, but that can’t be the purpose - no one is going to rob a store for 25-cent porcelain cat figurines. “Cash register, or any large or valuable stuff?”

“The register hadn’t been touched,” Sebastian says. “No fingerprints, nothing missing. The only thing the owner noticed so far and told me is that back here she had - she said it was a weird-looking stone she’d never figured out a price for because she didn’t know what it was or was made of. She said it was roughly” - he holds up his hands, less then a foot apart, and cupped toward each other. “And shaped like a six.”

Apollo’s stomach sinks, which has become a very familiar sensation in this kind of context. “A magatama?” he asks, pressing a hand to his forehead. He knew this wouldn’t be a normal case. It’s still going terribly. “A large magatama? That would be reason enough for Tenma Taro to break into a random human establishment, more than just scaring the townspeople.”

“If I were trying to scare the town, I’d hit up more than one place,” Athena says. She leans against the doorframe and peers in, as Kay attempts to squeeze in around her and past Apollo. “Just make it a random selection, no pattern, and not attack everywhere. Leave some dread that I’ll come back and get some of the people I spared before.”

“Dread’s a key part,” Kay agrees. “Especially drop some warning in advance, not enough for anyone to be able to stop you, but just enough to make them all anxious and freaked out waiting for the worst.”

“Okay, so you’re both evil,” Apollo says. Athena chortles and Kay breaks into full cackling. “That’s probably a good thing for me to know ahead of time, before we get any further on this.”

“Before we venture into the woods in the dark with them, you mean,” Sebastian says.

“In the dark?” Apollo repeats. “In the—”

“We’ve got, uh, ‘sources’,” Kay says, making the quotation marks with one hand, while in the other she holds and examines a teacup that had managed to survive the initial catastrophe. “Informants who’ve been keeping an eye out to make sure things don’t go belly-up without us knowing.”

“Like other detectives or officers or something?” Athena asks, with a few wide-eyed blinks of confusion.

“Something,” Sebastian agrees. Apollo makes a note to himself to look out for crows. “But we know Tenma Taro doesn’t emerge during the day. You’ll have time to investigate in town; Ms Teak, the shop owner, went out for lunch but she told us she would be coming back, uh…” Sebastian checks his watch, pushing apart his sleeve and his glove to get to its face. “Soon? She lives above the shop, which is how she knew about the crime so quickly.”

“We should definitely talk to her, then,” Athena says. “And then at sunset we’ve got a whole new investigation to start!”

Ms Teak is a short, white-haired old lady who invites Apollo and Athena up to her living quarters above the shop, offers them tea, and insists that they call her “Auntie” even after they tell her they are Isabella’s lawyers. “That girl,” she says with a sad shake of her head, nearly spilling the tea that she pours for Athena, and Athena almost jostles the pot out of her hands eagerly trying to reach over and steady it. “She’s a sweet girl, but her head’s so far up in the clouds at the best of times. I just couldn’t keep rebalancing the register because she got her math all wrong. Or I’d tell her where to go clean and find an hour later she hadn’t done anything because she’d started with dusting the bookshelf and started thumbing through the first book to catch her eye. Cookies, dears?”

“Er, no thanks,” Apollo says at the same time Athena says, “Sure! Thank you very much!”

Depending on what sorts of witnesses she takes this offer from, she might end up in big trouble; but Apollo showed the blackmail letter to L’Belle and he stole it and destroyed it, so maybe he’s not that much better at proper witness protocol. Other subjects that should probably be taught in law school.

“I hate to think that such a sweet girl would be capable of this,” Ms Teak continues, returning to the small round table and setting down a little plate of tea biscuits. All of the decor of the house is mismatched, like it’s all come out of the antiques store at some point or another: a wicker chair next to a polished brown wood one next to a bar stool of almost equal height to the table, a white-and-gold teapot on a blue porcelain saucer, a cutting board shaped like a pig hanging on the kitchen wall visible from where they now sit in the tiny cramped dining area. “I had to let her go, you understand. It simply wasn’t working out. But I’ve got no ill-will toward the dear girl, and I’d hoped she had none toward me. Oh, dear, dear.” She pulls the wicker chair away from the table, that Apollo now can see the green flowered seat cushion and the pillow with an embroidered - opossum? Is that a possum? - resting against the back.

“How did she react when you told her that you were firing her?” Apollo asks. He watches Athena reach slowly for another cookie, like if she moves slow enough she won’t be noticed, and when she returns it to her mouth she nibbles at it like a squirrel, if a squirrel were nibbling because it realized it isn’t professional or polite to just scarf it down.

“Oh, the poor thing cried, of course. So embarrassed and ashamed of all the mistakes she’d made. Hated to think she’d failed at anything though I tried so hard to assure her that just because she wasn’t good at some things didn’t mean she wouldn’t find a passion that she could get her head locked into.”

“Yeah, I got a big sense of shame and sadness when she mentioned being fired, too,” Athena says quietly, tapping at the side of Widget. “Definitely not anything vindictive.”

“I do hope you’re right,” Ms Teak says. “I do hope you and that other nice young pair - how old are you? I swear all of you professional-types get younger and younger these days - can make sure she didn’t do it and find who did.” She sighs. “And I’ve got to clean up that mess they made, and I’d just gotten done all my spring reorganizing of the shop done, too.”

“The stone that was stolen from the back room,” Apollo says. “The prosecutor mentioned that. Do you remember where that came from originally?”

“Oh, I had that old thing for years,” Ms Teak replies. “Maybe a decade or more, now. I don’t quite remember when but my memory is sharp that it was Ms Tenma, rest her soul - the mayor’s wife, I mean, dear little Jinxie’s mother - who brought it in, asked me if I’d ever seen anything like it and told me she didn’t want it back, that I was free to sell it or get rid of it however I like. She said she didn’t know what it was either, but it made her so uneasy she wanted it out. Didn’t ask where she got it from, didn’t feel that was my business. Strange things happen in this town, you know.”

Apollo knows. Apollo knows well that this one of, but not the only, the towns where strange things happen. Ms Teak glares at them over her teacup. “Best not to ask, sometimes.” She says it like advice, a warning. “And I kept telling myself I should get rid of it, but I’ve been so darned curious that I could never make myself ask for a few dollars for it, or just throw it in a river, you understand?” She shakes her head, sending her white curls bouncing. “Maybe whatever it belongs to wanted it back now, and poor Isabella’s lucky she wasn’t walking past at the time it arrived. Though maybe sharp young lawyers like you two don’t believe in that sort of thing?” She raises an eyebrow as she takes another sip of her tea.

“We’re the lawyers who defended Mayor Tenma when he was charged with murder last month,” Apollo says, hoping that the mayor’s popularity has continued to climb, hoping that he was never so hated here in Tenma Town, and that his saying this won’t be a black mark. “We’re, um, familiar with the goings-on around here.”

“That was you?” she asks, surprised, setting down her teacup and saucer. “My goodness. All of those big cases you must get, if the mayor chose you as his lawyers, and here you are up this way for little Isabella.”

“We don’t really—” Apollo begins, because really, it was a lucky fluke that they got to represent the mayor, and luckier that they didn’t entirely blow it, but Athena kicks him in the shin before he can correct Ms Teak on their office’s humble and confusing existence.

“Thank you darlings oh so much for helping out our little town, once again.”

“It’s our pleasure!” Athena replies, taking another cookie.

“She’s the most pleasant witness we’ve ever had!” Athena says brightly, once they’ve left behind the shop to compile their information back in the sunlight of the street. “What a great chance of pace!”

“You’ve had exactly one case before this,” Apollo says. “You can’t say that like—”

“Like Filch and L’Belle weren’t both terrible?” Athena interrupts. She’s unequivocally correct, of course, even without her knowing that Apollo, after his first case, would have had the same reaction to a cooperative, forthcoming, honest, friendly client; after dealing with Olga Orly, Phoenix, and Kristoph. Apollo would have had this same response, but didn’t, because all of the witnesses in his second case were also terrible.

She grins at his silence, knowing what it means, and from her skirt pocket produces yet another cookie.

The alderman’s manor and garden are closed to the public of Nine-Tails Vale - and indeed, anywhere else - for the foreseeable future, but Jinxie still has possession of the master key and has been in to clean up and keep dust from gathering. “The alderman’s wife is still in the hospital,” she explains, “but Papa and I went to see her and she told us that she trusted the town was in good hands with us.” She squares her shoulders, a stack of charms still arrayed in her hand, ready to strike, but instead of slapping one onto Apollo’s head she just offers one to him and Athena. “So we can’t let her down!”

Kay sits on the carpet in the foyer with three boxes of pizza and one of breadsticks. “Ms Teak let me and Sebby take some coupons!” she chirps. “I thought it’s important that we all get some food in us before we head out! Sebby’s on his way over, but I flew out here ahead of time to get us food. You’re welcome!” She waves a breadstick at them and Athena enthusiastically flings herself to the floor, Jinxie sinking down with a bit more grace.

Out the window, the sun is no longer visible, its last vestiges of light barely illuminating the horizon, but the sky is still the light blue of early dusk, nothing that Apollo would yet be worried about roaming around in. Sebastian arrives, with Phoenix and Trucy trailing him, in the blue-black, when several stars are visible along with the moon. “Papa’s up in the Fox Chamber,” Jinxie tells Phoenix. “Trying to get the Forbidden Chamber back in order, make sure it’s all set up.” She offers all three of them warding charms, as she had before. “And he’s talking to the woman who showed up earlier.”

“What woman?” Phoenix asks through a mouthful of pizza.

Jinxie shrugs. “I slapped her with a warding charm when she came in - not one of the protective charms I’ve given you, but one to keep a demon in and stop it from using its powers. And she didn’t mind that so I guessed she can’t be that evil, and Papa has the Nine-Tails to protect him. She’s very pretty - um, she has black hair and was wearing a kimono.”

Oh. That is very unfortunately familiar, too. Phoenix presses a hand over his face and sighs. “Did I do something wrong?” Jinxie asks. “Do you know her?”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Phoenix assures her, and after the initial moment has passed, he looks more concerned with whether he wants to finish his slice of pizza. “I know both of the likely options, and there are - there could be worse things. Or people.”

“Mr Wright, do you know how to say things that aren’t cryptic and ominous?” Kay asks. Apollo’s glad he’s not the only one left wondering that question, and that Kay is secure enough to say it out loud, too. Maybe sooner or later Phoenix will get the point, will get tired of hearing it and adapt. Or maybe sooner than that they’ll all be eaten by a yokai.

Jinxie springs to her feet and races up the stairs, calling for her father. She returns two minutes later with Mayor Tenma and a woman who Apollo recognizes, her straight black hair as glassy as ice and her dark, sad eyes. Jinxie was right to take a precaution against her - stuck right in the center of her forehead is a paper charm. “Well, this is a surprise,” Phoenix says lightly, but his posture shifts the moment he sees her, contracting, tightening up from the loose ease he held himself with. When he finishes speaking his mouth has a plastic quality to it, the corner frozen in a lopsided and failed smile. “What are you doing here, Iris?”

He looks so much less comfortable with her here than he did in the office last year, but there’s more people here, more than just Apollo and Trucy to wonder what it is about them, between them. Iris appears no more confident, bowing to Phoenix and never quite straightening up, her hands folded in front of herself, her shoulders turning slightly inward with them. “Since you consulted the Mystic on this matter of Tenma Taro, she was concerned about what may happen to you attempting to reimprison it yourself. Or even with assistance.”

“And I assured Miss… Iris,” Mayor Tenma says, his pronunciation of her name slow and doubtful, like he knows what she is, knows this name is not entirely true to her, “that with the power of the Nine-Tailed Fox, there is little to fear.”

“As I understand.” Iris inclines her head up and to the side, and when her hair swings down and catches the light, as Apollo remembers, it has an auburn sheen. “Understand me, Mayor, that I am not here to tread on your authority, nor to doubt the power of your village’s guardian. When I say that the Fox is weaker than it was when Tenma Taro was first imprisoned, I do not mean that it and you are weak - simply weaker. And there is a ritual to prepare in the Chamber to bind the demon again, and a vast swath of forest to search through. Are we to wait for you to be finished with the Chamber to begin? The Mystic requested of me to keep our friends safe, and that is what I intend to do.”

“I’m surprised Maya didn’t come down here herself,” Phoenix says. “I think I’m overdue for her yelling at me.” He says it tonelessly, with a roll of his eyes, though the implication is obvious, that Maya is one of the fae, and Apollo would never be so casual about having one of the fae angry with him.

“Oh, don’t worry.” Iris smiles with lips pressed tight together. “She will not forget that she has criticisms of your handling of the past eight years. But we all agreed for this situation that both she and my sweet little sister bear a worrying lack of subtlety that could have unfortunate repercussions.”

“Right,” Phoenix agrees. “Pearls would slap a yokai straight through a house. Take care of that situation but level half the town in the process.”

“Indeed. And I was already in the area, over at Hazakurain, and it was not too far to come over. Sister Bikini’s back has been bothering her more lately and I had thought to offer some assistance to the temple.” Iris’ smile gets a little wider, a little less forced. “She still asks after your well-being, and that of a certain handsome prosecutor as well.”

“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” Phoenix’s mouth quirks into an equally small smile, and then he claps his hands together and brings them up in front of his mouth. “All right,” he says. “What’s our plan? Iris? Mr Tenma?”

“I have spent these past two weeks, with the assistance of the Nine-Tails, seeking out Tenma Taro, but he has avoided me,” the mayor explains. “It is my hope that you would be able to assist in flushing him out and driving him to a place that I would be able to finish dragging him back into the Forbidden Chamber.”

“So we are gonna be bait!” Athena says.

“No,” Phoenix says. He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Sort of. Tenma Taro’s weak after being locked up for so long - not weak enough to not be a threat, but enough that it’s going to stay the hell away from its old enemy.” A wave of his hand in the direction of Mayor Tenma. “It’s not going to be so cautious when you kids go tromping into the woods. You’d just smell and seem like - people. Traces of magic, yeah, sure, but none of you are foxes.”

“So it’ll just think we’re tasty snacks and not expect us to kick its butt?” Athena asks.

“Tasty,” Trucy repeats. “Magically delicious, you mean.”

Iris giggles. Phoenix sighs and says, “Sebastian, you’re in charge.”

Sebastian freezes, eyes wide and shoulders hunched, his hands twisting around each other. He wears different gloves now than he did earlier; these have the fingers missing, for whatever reason. “Mr Wright, are you sure?”

A witch against a yokai. Apollo doesn’t really know what witches can do, in the abstract, and he certainly doesn’t know what powers Sebastian has - or the when, why, how, of him becoming a witch - but Phoenix must. Enough to have an expectation. “I’m not asking - or suggesting - that you try and fight it singlehandedly, but I think you’d be a big help in keeping it distracted.”

Neither Sebastian’s face nor his posture suggests that he agrees with this assessment. “And, Iris?” Phoenix asks. She doesn’t look surprised, turns her eyes on Phoenix slowly and blinks, waiting. “I’m sure whatever Maya told you was about me, but I’m pretty sure I’d be a liability if I was trying to keep up with everyone else through the woods, and—”

“Your back pain is and always has been because you sit like a gargoyle,” Iris says. “But you would like me to keep your children from being killed.”

“Well.” Phoenix runs his hand through his hair all the way down to rub the back of his neck. “I wasn’t going to phrase it exactly like that. Those two” - he gestures at Kay and Sebastian - “are Edgeworth’s, not mine.”

“What?” Kay asks. “Mr Edgeworth’s my other dad, but you’re my other other dad! Are you disowning me? Have I been disowned? Why can’t you both be my dads?” She grins. Apollo remembers the conversation he had with Klavier about a particular betting pool.

“I do believe it’s been decided on your behalf,” Iris says to Phoenix. “But, yes, I will make sure none of them come to harm. If—” She frowns, her eyes narrowing, and she rolls them up toward the center of her forehead, as though trying to see Jinxie’s charm still left there. She raises a hand to it and falters, her fingers an inch from the paper.

“Right,” Phoenix says, and he reaches over and peels the charm off of her head.

“You can’t take it off yourself?” Trucy asks.

“There would hardly be a point to such a charm if any monster can just remove the bindings from herself,” Iris says. “Perhaps we use that charm ourselves, slap it upon Tenma Taro when we find him.”

“Ooh! I volunteer for that!” Kay bounces up and down and snatches the charm from Phoenix’s hand when he holds it out to her. “I’ll sneak up on him and whack him with it! And then, Seb, you chase it out into the open where the Amazing Nine-Tails can wrestle it back to prison!”

“You should all take some more charms,” Jinxie says, grabbing Trucy’s hands and dealing the paper slips into her palm like a card dealer setting up a game. “Make sure as soon as you see something strange, hit it!”

“That’s sound advice,” Athena says, nodding sagely.

“That could get you arrested,” Sebastian says.

Athena raises her eyebrows and grins at Apollo. He has to suppress a groan. Somehow, in the madness of everything after, he’d almost forgotten about Athena flinging a police officer through the air. Between that, manipulating information from Fulbright, and Sebastian and Kay being plenty friendly (no matter how Kay tried to pretend she wasn’t giving out information), she’s going to get a very strange idea of what she can get away with.

Iris eyes the pizza crusts that someone left behind in the box, but seeing Apollo watching her, she quickly turns her head away, lifting her chin to feign regal posture.

Tenma Taro is going to kill them all, no question.

#if you want the key to the bad pun names it's in the end notes on ao3 #roddy fanfics #fic: the witches of los angeles

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readbythestarlight · 6 years

Text

c2e41

I can’t believe it’s time to find out the consequences of Fjord’s accidental mistakes and bad decisions

lol I almost panicked when Travis wasn’t at the table like he HAS to be here for this

I like the “oh nos” coming from the rest about Sam’s ad

SAM NO

LOL MATT’S FACE

Sam doesn’t know what any of his Scottish means he probably just insulted his own mother

He’s gonna give Cad Molly’s necklace IT’S FINE IM NOT EMOTIONAL EXCEPT I AM

Wow okay Cad and Caleb can y’all chill and not give me emotions? Thanks.

B: *hands over Frumpkin*

C: “You have three or four more days you know”

B: “DO I?!” *grabs Frumpkin back and sticks him in her pocket*

I sure hope Sprinkles is alright after almost drowning along with the rest of them, poor thing

FJORD WAS HER FIRST SEMI-KISS

This whole interaction is super cute im dying

Fjord listen no pressure but try not to break her heart

Nott somehow always makes me a little sad

LOL oh this advice Nott. Amazing.

lol the clerics spoiling Matt’s plans for a supply stop

YES GOOD PLEASE ACQUIRE THE SKILLS NEEDED FOR SAILING

Marisha looks so excited

JESTER NO CRUSHING UP YOUR DIAMONDS FOR TATTOOS DO YOU UNDERSTAND

y’all need those

for revivifying or whatever

listen though, they absolutely all need matching sparkle tattoos someday though I want it real bad

OOO are they gonna do pirate shit??? Attack the ship and steal stuff?

This is a test if I ever saw one

Guys don’t do it please it’s such a bad idea

I just feel like Avantica is testing Fjord with basically everything

Guys please just don’t

Cad’s right it’s a bad decision

FJORD

YOU

FUCKING

IDIOT

FJORD IS A FJUCKING FJOOL

this is such a bad idea

Jester giving him the salty shoulder

“I feel like this is somehow connected to your previous bad decisions” yes Cad please keep shaming him

lol Not going crazy with the canon stuff

oh damn fjord

lol buddy Nott doesn’t even need that anymore goofy boy

Sam’s gonna roll really bad and Nott’s gonna hit the ship I can feel it

A NAT 1

okay it didn’t fire okay

Nott darling you’re going to blow up your own ship

“fire boy! go, gogo!”

“Alright, so you owe us a canon.”

Oh lord

20 thank god

SHIIIIIIIPS

They’re gonna end up with wanted posters when they get back to shore

Fjord honey what are you doing this isn’t even like you. Is this about gaining Avantica’s trust? At what cost??

Caduceus the Cool Calm Guy

God this is just… so bad

I’m serious they’re going to end up being wanted criminals

fjord

why the fuck did you give him your real name

Caduceus is the only smart one, hiding his face

stop using you’re real names Fjord for fuck’s sake be smart

Caleb plz stop

oh god guys this isn’t worth the trouble

this is gonna be so bad im so on edge

this is where the fight will break out

Jester what are you going to do oh no

Poor Liab

JESTER YOU CANT TATTOO SOMEONE AGAINST THEIR WILL

here we go I hope you’re ready to live with your bad decisions Fjord

Are they even considering that whatever this magical item is, it’ll probably go straight to Avantica?

“I don’t trust Avantica” Beau says to Caleb through Frumpkin while members of Avantica’s crew are present.

Frumpkin being able to attack is cool as frick I like that

Don’t die Frumpkin

“twelve renegade points, one point paragon!” lol Matt

I like how Beau’s like “we’re trying to be good people” but then threatens to slit his throat. Like FYI Beau, threatening someone over something you don’t have a right to, that you’re STEALING, after ATTACKING THIS GUY, is not how good people act.

Beau leave him alone

Seriously

Somehow this was only a minor disaster. So far. If they don’t end up with wanted posters because they’re pirates I will be shocked.

I don’t like anything that Avantica approves of. I don’t trust her.

She knows. She so knows they’re hiding something.

Caleb so cute talking about cats and books

They need to not look right now. They need to put it in the bag and leave it until they get far away from Avantica.

PAPERRRR

The Not There Fairy, cousin to the Metagaming pigeon

Ohhhh Beau you gonna get a tattoo like Molly’s??

Okay… darling… but maybe not an eye though that just seems like it’s inviting trouble

“But you know he’s dead” WOW

IT’S THE BARBIE RAPUNZEL PAINTBRUSH

Jester. I’m begging you. Save that paint for when y’all actually need a door.

(Also @Taliesin just tell us all what Molly would think of it please Inquiring Minds want to know)

Let Caduceus have the shield

I hope you all feel like guilty fucks tbh that was just not necessary

Oh no mediocre perception check….

Beau please don’t try sneaking into her office my god that’s a terrible idea

lol Laura you little shit xD

“You should seduce her” and Fjord’s over here like lol right uh sure totally that’s a good idea uhhuh

B: “I think if we don’t do anything, it means your eventual demise.”

F: “Well that’s… fucking dark.”

At least they’re finally thinking and really really realizing how bad things are for them right now.

Cad: “If we want to find the ship I think I can help.”

F: “With the seducing?!”

Cad: “What…? no!”

Beau really wants to seduce Avantica.

Caduceus with his naps. He is me.

Fjord and Caleb conference! It’s been a while.

MMMM I LIKE THIS

“Have you ever sacrificed anything to achieve a greater goal?” OHHH FJORD IF YOU ONLY KNEW

Talking about Papa Widogast

“I have tried to live up to the man that he was, and I have… largely failed, but I picked up what I could.” IT’S FINE IM NOT CRYING (yeah i am).

“I think traveling with all of you has emboldened me some. I was alone for a long time. And I… I like this group. I like traveling with you, Fjord.”

Okay Fjord what are you trying to get at now?

FJORD TRUSTING CALEB TO WATCH HIS BACK WITH AVANTICA my heart

oh.

“can i count on you to… right the ship, if need be?”

oh i don’t like the sound of that at all.

I don’t like this conversation

What is Fjord asking? That Caleb take him out if need be? That he makes sure the group gets out if Avantica manages to kill Fjord?

THE TRAVELER

I don’t trust him at all

J: “We’re pirates”

TT: “I know. :)”

TT: “That seed of chaos” DO NOT LIKE

“Well there are many different enchantments—“ RED FLAG RED FLAG BIG RED FLAG

he’s such a creep i hate him someone protect jester from him

he has literally gotten more and more creepy every fucking time

this is absolutely a sinister voice Matt is using too

“Preferably where it will be the least expected… and the creepiest to find” okay that was kinda funny

“the time is coming soon when you will meet the rest of your brethren” DO NOT LIKE

Like I’m not sure he’s EVIL but he creeps me out and I don’t like him

Fjord dream Fjord dream Fjord dream

Fjord dreaming about them bare naked ladies.

From ocean to sky to ocean again.

I don’t think I like this.

Watching, learn, reward.

Nope don’t like.

Smart move grabbing the map

But shit, did Avantica see the same place? If she was in the dream too I bet she did.

Nott, my darling, can you not

LOL

MATT YOU TRICKSTER

a handful of pepper made into a pepper bolt

“The Revelry” oh lord it’s a pirate colony with a court of captains or something isn’t it. Like in PotC3.

Or like Tortuga.

“The Plank King” I KNEW IT

pirate court

Avantica is absolutely gonna challenge the Plank King?

“Welcome to Dark Town” thanks Matt

I’m loving all this history/lore stuff Matt is so good at this kind of thing.

“Takes some notes” I do NOT like that

Poor Orli and the crew.

I thought for sure Avantica was gonna stab Gimati.

Caduceus really wanted to have some Words with Gimati.

B: “Marius the Mariner…. LePua…. LePain….?”

Cad: “That was really good, do me! :D”

B: “Caduceus the… Juices…?”

Listen, Fjord, guys, you owe these people. You hired them and then dragged them into SO MUCH SHIT you didn’t tell them about. And you can’t just leave them here, or refuse to pay them

Like you hired all these people and dragged them into your shit and now you're like "you can keep working for no extra money or you can stay here on pirate island" wow Fjord I’m massively unimpressed. Like I know the whole moral leanings of the whole group have been shifty but come on. This is really not cool.

“By the way, you guys are members of the Revelry.”

So first they joined a crime lord's syndicate and now they joined a pirate gang

*insert faceplam gif here*

Uh-oh…

James Tybalt, assistant to the Plank King

lol Fjord is the worst pirate, forgetting to deal with the money.

As much as I enjoy having a less than perfectly heroic group, I do wish they'd try to be just SLIGHTLY less awful sometimes

Harpy jerky as a gift. I love Nott.

Yasha is very Done with all of this.

Cad: “I serve nature and I’m the maker of fine graves.”

N: “I just love water so much.”

Y: “I like to punch things?”

Hnnn why notes

I’m glad y’all didn’t ALL give them real names

Oh lord, so now if they attack Avantica (and don’t manage to kill her and everyone else) they’ll have the Revelry after them

They’re super doomed

Oh lord he took the previous king’s hair

Oh man don’t try hitting on Beau

Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh SHIT he asked Beau to keep an eye on Avantica and to snitch on her

That’s good. That’s a good. They finally have something going for them (as long as Avantica doesn’t find out)

God this night was a continued disaster. But it was super good. Stressful but fun.

“How did this happen?” The question we all want to have answered, Sam.

“Good shit, Matt.” Agreed!!

#emi watches critical role #critical role spoilers #Critical Role

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 7 years

Text

More Than You Bargained For (Part 7)

Summary: Jensen and the reader come up with a plan to catch her stalker for good as Jensen learns about the reader’s past...

Masterlist

Pairing: Bodyguard!Jensen x reader

Word Count: 3,000ish

Warnings: language, stalking

A/N: I love this part too to be honest...

You woke up to find Jensen sitting in bed, reading through his email on his phone from the looks of it. You glanced over to your binder you’d brought him, still in the same spot he left it.

“Good morning. No, I did not read it,” he said without looking up.

“It might be helpful,” you said with a stretch.

“I am not going to read it,” he said. “End of discussion.”

“But why?” you asked, Jensen setting his phone down, turning to sit you up so you leaned against him.

“Last night you said you trust me,” he said. “Whatever’s in that binder is not something you want anyone to know. That’s not the sort of thing you should read about, Y/N. If you want to tell me, you’ll tell me. Otherwise you can put that thing back where it came from.”

“Why’d you go into the Marines?” you asked, Jensen shrugging. “You wanted to be a teacher.”

“I wanted to help people,” he said.

“There’s a big ass difference between an elementary school teacher and a special ops guy,” you said.

“I figured I’d always come back after four years, get a teaching job with a little government pension down the road. But I was good at it and got put in a special training program and then another program and then next thing I knew I was five years in and put on an anonymous team that does shit even the government won’t admit to,” said Jensen.

“You ever kill anyone?” you asked.

“Have you?” he asked.

“Yes,” you said.

“Y/N I’m serious. You don’t know how many people-”

“I killed my parents,” you said. Jensen blinked a few times, mouth opening and closing shut, trying to think of how to possibly respond. Alex had the same look too when you told him at fifteen.

“What’d they do to you?” he asked quietly.

He was the first person you ever met that didn’t ask why. You saw it in his face, already flaring up with anger. You weren’t bad to him, you couldn’t possibly be. He wasn’t guarded all of a sudden like you’d seen a few times before.

He was fucking pissed. For you.

“When I say parents, I mean the people that raised me until I was ten. They were not my biological parents,” you said. “My real parents died when I was about two months old. Car accident. Alex didn’t lie about that. I was in the backseat, fine as could be in my carseat. This couple decided to stop and check. They uh, weren’t good people and they...took me. They wanted a kid. They kept trying but couldn’t and I was their little gift from above,” you said. “Some of this is conjecture but it’s the story that always made the most sense in the cops eyes.”

“You were kidnapped? Until you were...ten?” asked Jensen.

“I didn’t know that I wasn’t theirs until I was nine. I found out about my real parents when I was ten and I decided enough was enough,” you said.

“What did they do,” asked Jensen, his body rigid, like it was on high alert.

Or two seconds away from breaking something.

“What do you think they did, abuse the shit out of me, made me their personal slave. I cleaned and cooked and got him a beer while she smoked and then when they got in a fight, I was the person it got taken out on...in just about every way you can think of,” you said.

“Fuckin...it’s a good thing those fuckers are dead or I’d go kill ‘em myself,” he said.

“I just wanted to go away and that day they tried to make it sound like another game but I knew it wasn’t and I knew they weren’t supposed to hurt me like that. I ran away when they were passed out drunk but we were kind of out in the middle of nowhere and my neighbor down the road caught me and tried to bring me home but the house was up in flames. Probably one of her smokes they said but I didn’t clean up like normal because I tried to leave and-”

“That’s how you got adopted. By Alex’s family,” said Jensen.

“I was at the police station and a whole load of screwed up and this nice, well off family was in there because their car broke down in our hick town and they were just...good. They took care of me and gave me a life back. They don’t understand sometimes why I act certain ways but they try and that’s good enough for me. It’s so much more than I could have ever asked for. It’s why I gave you so much crap. I can’t be controlled like that ever again. Now I know that you’re doing it from a place of kindness but you can sort of understand why I was resistive to you,” you said.

“You didn’t kill anyone,” said Jensen. “The bitch killed herself and the son of a bitch too. She did the world a fucking favor.”

“For fifteen years people have been trying to tell me I didn’t kill them but no one’s ever quite put it like that,” you said.

“What the ever living fuck is wrong with people? Who does that shit? To a baby? To a kid? Fuck, even an adult? You should get a fuckin’ Nobel Prize for succeeding and telling those ass clowns where to suck it,” said Jensen.

“You totally should have been a therapist,” you said, glancing up at him with a smile. “So you understand my issues with trusting other people now, one of the few to know actually.”

“I’m surprised you’re a functioning member of society to be honest,” he said. “You’re weird enough on your own without all that other shit.”

“You’re so sweet, Jens,” you said with a laugh, earning one from him. “You’ve never killed anyone, have you. You just did some shit you really don’t like living with.”

“We should open up a practice together. Asshole & Asshole, we’ll tell it to you straight. No bull,” said Jensen, frowning when you rested your head on his shoulder. “Y/N, I did bad things.”

“Were these people worse than my parents?” you asked.

“Some of the worst people that exist,” he said calmly. “That doesn’t mean I don’t have to live with what I did.”

“I used to be really good at pretending I was okay, you know. It’s why I got into acting. I can be someone else. The strong person who stands up to the bad guy,” you said.

“You did stand up to the bad guy,” said Jensen. “Not Sasha Browning, monster killer from TV. Y/N, the stubborn smart kind girl that should be a hell of a lot more like me but somehow is good.”

“You’re good, Jensen,” you said. “I’m not special either. I mean apart from having my own psycho stalker, I’m just like any other person.”

“We have the weirdest fucking conversations,” he said.

“At least they’re honest,” you said.

“I’ll take a look at your binder but I don’t think who we’re looking for is from back then. They were on set so they may be someone at the studio or an obessive fan. Or you really just attract the crazies,” he said.

“Alright. To be honest, I’m surprised you haven’t kicked me out of bed yet,” you said.

“Who said I was done with you?” said Jensen, kissing your cheek. “I got to work for a few hours but it’s still early. Sleep in some and I’ll wake you up later. Okay?”

“You really aren’t kicking me out?” you asked, propped up on your elbow.

“Oh,” he said. Just like that, his walls were back up, a cold look in his eye. “I need to get dressed now.”

“Jensen,” you said, catching his hand before he could roll out of bed. He tried to shrug but you held on hard and tugged him back down. “Stop it and sit down.”

“You aren’t the boss of me,” he said.

“Yes I am. Quite literally,” you said, both your wrists trapped in his hand quickly. “Be honest.”

“You already heard me be honest last night. How about you give it a go,” he said.

“If I had wanted something different, I would not have slept with you,” you said.

“I don’t know what you want,” he said. He let go of your hands, biting his bottom lip. He did. He just didn’t think he deserved it.

“I want you,” you said. “When I say I trust you, Jens, I don’t take that lightly. So if you fuck me over, you’re gonna break me. So don’t. Or I’ll kick your ass.”

“I couldn’t do that to you,” he said, smiling cautiously, catching your nod that he was allowed to have you. “I wouldn’t survive the ass beating. Not sure you even could break, Y/N. You’re...shit...I don’t think you’d break. Maybe...fuck! Maybe we got this all backwards.”

“Us or…?” you asked.

“You and me are good. Very good from now on,” he said, hopping out of bed with a smile, pulling you up with him. “Go get dressed. I think...I think you just figured out why this guy picked you. He wants to try and break you.”

“...that helps how?” you asked.

“Because if we know what he wants, we can trick him into coming out of hiding,” said Jensen.

“How are we going to do that?” you asked.

“You know that charity event tomorrow night? You’re going and you’re going to look like you’re having the time of your fucking life. That’s when he reaches out and escalates. When you’re having fun and happy,” said Jensen.

“I thought I wasn’t supposed to leave the house,” you said.

“You’ll be safe. I’ll be right by your side all night. Besides, brining along a date is sure to piss him off.”

“Again,” said Jensen later that day, panting as he stood up from the floor. For nearly three hours he’d be teaching you how to break out of holds, how to not panic, how to fuel the fear when it hit you and turn it into power.

“You know, I was joking earlier about the therapist thing but this is actually pretty cathartic,” you said.

“Good,” said Jensen, reaching forward and shoving you to the ground, pinning your hands over your head. You did like he said, used your hips to throw your weight and get out from under him. But he was sat up farther than when you’d done this before, putting more pressure on your hands and body.

#5) Think outside the box

“Any idea what-” he said before you leaned up your head, kissing him full on. He shifted back in surprise, giving you just enough room and time to throw him off and roll away.

“Hopefully won’t have to use that one,” you said, Jensen chuckling on the ground.

“That makes two of us. Only I get to be on the receiving end of that,” he said with a smirk.

“One night together and suddenly you’re the fluffiest man alive, Ackles. Fuck, I wonder what’ll happens when we have a proper date,” you said.

“Guess you’ll find out tonight then,” he said. You cocked your head as he stood up, looking you over. “That’s enough for today. I pushed you far enough as it is. You need to be well rested for tomorrow night. Plus you have a date at eight.”

“Oh, I do, do I?” you asked, crossing your arms.

“Yup. Super elite. Private place. Personal chef. You’ll love it,” he said.

“Have I been before?” you asked, Jensen rolling his eyes at you.

“It’s your favorite place to eat. Now go rest. That’s an order.”

You’d known Jensen for a few weeks, spent most of your days with him around. You’d seen him in a suit almost all of that time. But a navy long sleeve henley with rolled up sleeves, dark tight fitting jeans and bare feet working over your stove just about did you in more than the tailored jacket ever did.

“You should have been a model with how pretty you are, you know,” you said, stepping off the stairs, glancing down at your jeans and the white flowy tank with the lace bottom.

“Could say the same thing about you,” he said.

“I like ice cream too much,” you said. “And cheese. I love cheese.”

“Double stuffed crust pizza?” he asked. “That’s the shit.”

“I think you’re my soulmate,” you teased, peaking around him and giggling when you saw what was in the pot. “Did you make mac and cheese?”

“I have several talents. Cooking is not one of them,” he said.

“But that looks good,” you said, eyes wandering to the messy cheese grater and empty pasta box nearby. “Professional even.”

“I’ll be sure to add it to my resume next to fire arms and reconnaissance,” he said. You slid onto one of your barstools, making small chitchat about his life growing up but listening to his answers intently. He was not a person that freely shared himself so anything he was willing to give, you were gladly taking in.

“So, this may or not be extremely embarrassing...” he said, spinning around with the pot in his hands.

“Well now you have to tell me,” you said, humming while you watched him dish up two plates and take a seat beside you.

“I may have started watching your show the other night,” he said. “...Like four episodes at once.”

“Oh, someone’s a fangirl,” you teased, Jensen bumping into your shoulder.

“I like the premise. Chick kicking monsters asses, helping people out,” he said. “You’re really, really good at it. I kind of forgot it was you on the screen almost.”

“You’re a very good bodyguard,” you said. “Even with all your rules.”

“Eh, Padalecki tells me I need to ease up some or I’ll have an aneurism,” said Jensen.

“I like Jared. He gives it right back to you. We should keep him,” you said.

“I always did want a puppy,” he said.

“Uh hum,” grunted Jared, walking over with a smirk, Jensen muttering under his breath. “I will be taking off for the evening, Y/N. Derek will be taking up the inside post for the night. I trust you’re in good hands.”

“Goodnight Jared,” you said. “Have fun on your date tonight.”

“How do you know I’m going on a date?” he asked.

“You forget to turn off your radio when you were talking to your wife on the phone at lunch pal. Make sure to get all the kisses and snuggles you want tonight,” teased Jensen, winking at Jared.

“Permission to kick his ass someday?” asked Jared.

“Down boys. You can wrestle after this thing is over,” you said.

“I bet I’d win,” said Jared.

“In your dreams,” said Jensen. “Jare Bear.”

“Y/N, please can I kick his ass? Just a little?” asked Jared as he walked backwards.

“We’ll take a raincheck,” you said. “Have fun tonight.”

“You guys as well,” said Jared, giving Jensen a smile. “Told you she liked you.”

“Shut up,” said Jensen, Jared leaving after that, the house totally empty apart from Derek who was posted near the front door.

“We’re totally keeping him,” you said, stabbing into your dinner.

By the time you’d finished, you’d moved the conversation to your couch, Jensen looking more relaxed than normal. His shoulders were looser, his eyes softer, even his stories he seemed to be sharing more easily.

“Y/N, your mind’s somewhere else,” said Jensen.

“You’re a bodyguard,” you said.

“Hi, Jensen Ackles, have we met?” he joked. “Yeah, I’m all yours too, honey.”

“It’s what you do for a living,” you said, glancing at him, seeing the small nod there.

“You think it’s a dangerous job,” he said.

“I know it’s a dangerous job,” you said.

“It pays the bills. Let’s me use skills I have. Do good. You don’t like that I would need to get a new client after this case is done,” he said.

“I know a part of you does this to punish yourself. That you aren’t worth it. But I know you are and...I’m not going to get in a relationship with someone if I can’t be honest with them,” you said.

“So to be in a relationship, you would want me to get a safer job is what you’re saying,” he said.

“That’s not what I’m saying but yes, I also want that,” you said.

“Y/N. You will be my last client,” said Jensen. “I told the agency that referred you to me a few days ago I’m out of the game after this one.”

“Why?” you asked.

“Because maybe I’m not the bad guy I thought I was. I just needed someone to point that out to me,” he said. “Maybe I’m worth something too.”

“Okay,” you said softly. “You might not be an asshole after all.”

“That’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me,” said Jensen, leaning his head against the couch, laughing to himself.

“I can get a whole load of sappy if you want Ackles,” you said.

“Another time. I think I should get you in bed. Big day tomorrow,” he said as he stood up.

“Date’s over already?” you said with a pout.

“I said I should get you in bed. I didn’t mention the night being over yet,” he said, licking his lips.

“You’re lucky I like the cocky thing on you,” you said, Jensen’s lips tugging up. “Behave.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” he asked, pulling you up to stand, pausing while you reached up, kissing him. “I’m not screwing this up, right?”

“No. Not at all. Now take me to your room.”

A/N: Read the Final Part here!

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bearxclaws-archive-blog · 6 years

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Arc Headcanons // PRE-SKIP PT.4

It’s been two weeks since I did one of these ‘cause I was on vacation, but here we go again! Sorry for being repetitive, but there will most likely be mentions of Sanji x Anita.

DUVAL / SABAODY ARCHIPELAGO

— ARC OUTFIT

— After almost watching Sanji’s upper half disappear on Thriller Bark, it’s going to become a habit for her to touch a bit more. Not that she was why about it before because she’s just a physical person, but she’ll touch his arm, chest and anything from the neck up as a weird way of making sure he’s there. Totally brushes it off as just making sure he’s still mostly intact.

— She doesn’t know him, but Anita is worried about Ace too. She doesn’t like that his Vivre Card is burning. Still, she trusts Luffy’s judgement and doesn’t insist that he go after his brother. By the sounds of it, Ace is perfectly capable of defending himself.

— While Chopper and Usopp are relaxing and the rest of the crew is dealing with the submarine, Anita is in the kitchen pouting because she wanted to go underwater. With her Devil Fruit, she can’t. Oh, well, it’s sort of given her the chance to indulge in her stupid crush and watch Sanji work.

— Him getting decked by Keimi’s whole body when she lands on him cracks her up, though. She really needs to stop laughing at other peoples suffering. Not really sure why she does, but I feel like she just would.

— Having not been there during the Arlong Park chaos, she isn’t sure who Hachi is. Learning about it infuriates her, and so does learning that mermaids are sold.

— A thing I am realizing; when her island was taken over, her and her troupe were basically turned into slaves. They were a little cleaner and happier looking, but it was part of the act to lure pirates in. If they disobeyed, they were beaten or even put to death. They were scared of the man that had put himself in the position of master. So the entirety of this arc, Anita will likely be pissed and slightly afraid in a ‘ does he realize I’m gone and has he told other Marines so they recognize me’ way. She doesn’t want to be dragged back home yet when she can’t help. Didn’t have the smarts to think that it might happen until now. Whoops~

— Anita goes with the flow, so she doesn’t care who they’re saving as long as Luffy’s the one that ordered it. Although a large part of her wants to meet a talking octopus-man.

— Duval’s existence almost kills Anita. She will be doubled over despite being attacked with poisonous harpoons, holding her stomach and wheezing for breath.

— Because she’s stupid and obvious, I feel like the ones that know she has a crush on Sanji would be Nami, Robin and Usopp. At least one of them is going to be a shit and make a joke about her liking Duval because what’s the difference between him and Sanji? Rude as fuck, but it only makes her start laughing again.

— Flips her shit when they trap him in the water and announce they’re going to drown him. God, sometimes she hates that she has a Devil Fruit. When he does get rescued and has his dumb little nosebleed, Anita will poke him with her foot. Moron.

— Luffy and Anita have a contest to see who can put the most takoyaki in their mouth at once. Anita loses, obviously, and ends up almost choking. Sanji goes to help but Luffy smacks her hard on the back and ends up coughing it up. Ew.

— I’m wondering if Anita would know who the Celestial Dragons are. What I’m thinking is that their conditions at the circus were a lot worse than I first made them out to be. That they were treated like slaves, and that because the corrupt part of the government turns a blind eye ( and sometimes encourages ) the buying and selling of people. So if they were treated and seen as slaves, then I wonder if Celestial Dragons visited the island to be entertained and buy some of the troupe members.

One day she will have noticed that a certain member has gone missing and not come back. Would destroy her to see them being treated poorly years later while visiting Sabaody. Not sure if that’s giving her too much personal involvement in the arc, though. But, honestly, I’m liking this idea because she’s not going to get a major arc of her own like the canon Straw Hats to. This is the only personal things I can think of to make up for her lack of an arc and a slight foreshadowing that she won’t have a home to come back to.

— Anita debates being a love-struck idiot and staying on the ship with Sanji while it’s getting repaired by Franky and Usopp. Decides against it because she knows she’s being stupid and doesn’t want to look at his dumb, handsome face. Stupid cook.

— Like Zoro, she wasn’t there for the briefing about not dealing with Celestial Dragons. She’s off on her own thing, probably notices someone that used to be in her troupe but sees they have a collar and are being treated like an animal rather than a person. Follows after them, tries to call their name and get their attention. Might get a small, frantic look as the only warning not to say anything else! Gets confused and ends up losing them before she realizes that she’s where the rest of the Straw Hats are. Is yanked down onto her knees by one of them and doesn’t get why. Learns real quick and decides just as swiftly that she doesn’t like this place.

— Doesn’t care about Law’s crew, except for Bepo. Bear! Walking, talking bear! If they weren’t trying so hard to get Keimi back, she would have scrambled over to talk to Bepo. Wants so badly to be his bear-buddy.

— Adds a kick of her own when Sanji asks if they can buy the dancing girl. Come on, Sanji. . . Really? You’re my most beloved muse and I wanna kick your ass for that.

— Anita doesn’t get why people are reacting so badly to Hatchi. She isn’t the least bit against other races because there were too many different kinds of people that worked for the circus, so she only sees them all as people.

— She’s secretly enjoying learning about all these old pirates because she never met Crocus, and she doesn’t hear about Roger much. Always a sucker for good stories.

— The idea of splitting up doesn’t appeal to her. She has a bad feeling in her gut that she blames her animal-like instinct on. Assume Chopper can feel it too even though they’ve got got human in them too. Doesn’t mention it and almost approaches Sanji to ask if she can tag along with him wherever he plans on going.

— Anita can be incredibly dumb sometimes, but I feel like she would quickly notice that it wasn’t Kuma they were fighting. Or, at least, notice that he doesn’t have the paw-pads. Kind of hard for her to forget those when she’s so closely associated with bears.

— Probably tried to bite at the Pacifista’s and only managed to get through the ‘skin.’ I know Brook couldn’t get through it, but she’s a gigantic bear, come on. They’re supposed to be able to bite through iron, so she’s going to get her jaw into PX-4 and shed some of that outside layer.

— Running would be so easy for her in her bear form, but she doesn’t flee like she’s told. She’s taking on too much responsibility as a tank and trying to protect the groups that look like they’re under attack the most.

— Because of that, I feel like she would end up being the first one ‘erased’ because she would make every attempt to lunge in front of Zoro when the real Kuma comes. I know Zoro disappearing first was important, but she’s the one that jumps out first to do her job. She won’t get to see what happens to Chopper while he’s rampaging again, and doesn’t get to see what happens to everyone else. I wanted to be more despair inducing for her, but she would be one of the first gone and won’t have time to see them vanish.

URSA ISLAND / TWO YEAR SEPARATION

— Anita crash-lands on an island inhabited entirely by large, beastly bears. They’re all larger and stronger than she is, and they aren’t the least bit welcoming to find a human on their island. Unlike actual wild bears, these ones are barely smart enough to have a system of roles, the most important being tribe leader.

— The tribe leader, Anita dubbed King. He was a large, black, monstrous bear with nasty scars and gnarly teeth. He looks like a cruel leader, but he’s actually as kind as they come. He only wants to frighten her away because they can’t stand humans. He seeks only to protect his people. That’s what she’s come to understand, at least.

— There’s only one place that’s safe on the island, and it’s the largest tree in the entire place. They can’t climb to the top, and she can in her human form. Discovers, however, that she’s not the only human stuck on that island. A young girl is also trapped there. She doesn’t know herself very well and is nameless. She lives in the trees to avoid the bears and has lived there so long that she smells like them. Eventually, they agree that she will be called Ylde. Pronounced like ‘wild’ but Anita can’t spell and just went based on the sound.

— Ylde: Isn’t it spelled w-i-l-d? Anita: ...How the fuck does a two-year-old stuck on a bear island know how to spell better than me? Ylde: I’m thirteen. Anita: Silence, small baby.

— Ylde attempts to convince Anita that there’s no point in trying to integrate herself into the tribe. Even as a bear, they’ll know she doesn’t belong from her scent and size. Anita corrects her and says she only wants to get off the damned island so she can get back to her friends.

— Because it will be a while before she gets the paper and she’s determined to leave, she gets into her bear form and readies herself to fight through the swarm of bears just to get to shore and find one of the many boats Ylde says have washed up over the years.

— End up coming back to Ylde’s tree because she gets her ass kicked. Tries this every single day until the moment the News Coo comes with the paper saying. She understands the hint given by Luffy and is immediately relieved to see he’s still alive. Doesn’t know if the rest are, but she’s hoping so. Didn’t even occur to her that they might be dead because she managed to survive the crash.

— Spends the next to years fighting and learning on her own. Ylde doesn’t stick around when, during the first year and a half, an intact ship is discovered. She insists Anita come with her, but she refuses. Ylde, having gotten attached to her, promises to come back to that exact spot in two years to pick her up and take her where she wants to go.

— Anita’s goal, like everyone else, is to get stronger. She realizes after being beaten again and again that she’s too weak in her bear form. Seeing as how that’s the part she wants to strengthen most, she dedicates herself to staying a bear as long as she possibly can. Day in and day out, from sunrise to sunset, she wants to stay a bear. She does this and does get stronger, but doesn’t realize that in the process she was inching closer to becoming the tribe leader herself.

— Over the two year separation, the following happens; she learns armament haki that she uses only on her teeth and claws, gets even larger than before, earns more devastating-looking scars, gets even greedier with food because of how unfair the tribe was to her before she became leader, eventually becomes the leader and earns the respect of the entire island.

— But because the rest of the tribe refuses to fight her, she becomes lazy and antsy. She will absolutely crave a fight whenever it feels like one is brewing now.

— New moves: Mighty Roar: Can either a. instill fear in an enemy and send them fleeing or b. temporarily disable them because the intensity of the sound is mind-numbing. Not to be confused with Conqueror's Haki ;;

Bear Trap: Bites through any part of an enemy that she can and fuses her jaws together with her Armament Haki as long as the teeth are touching, leaving it nearly impossible to shake her off.

Bearrel Roll: Yes, it’s a pun to barrel roll. Doesn’t actually suit the move because she’s not doing a barrel roll, but she does curl up and roll into her target to catch them off guard. Is a good move to use with people she trusts to throw / kick her.

#🐻;「 still learning and growing ( headcanon ) 」#🐻;「 v. they remind me of home ( strawhat ) 」#sanita #( her arc feels too similar to zoro's but i cannot think of anything else )#( cause she doesn't have anyone train her like he did so it still felt different enough )#( idk )#( i love that it keeps warning that there will be sanji x anita mentions but )#( honestly it's one sided because i don't wanna assume sanji's feelings even tho i write him too pfft )#( i need a sanji OTL )#arc headcanons

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itsmajel · 7 years

Text

Majel Reads - September2017

[What is this?]

Supernatural - Destiel

Hell on Earth Verse by grey2510, ThayerKerbasy

Summary Verse: Crowley had always had a plan. Even when he lost, he won. And when he died, he made sure his affairs were in order and that the one person he liked trusted tolerated inherited his most valuable and prized possessions.

Dean wasn't sure he'd ever forgive the bastard.

Juliet couldn't believe she'd been stuck with a blind pup for a new master.

- - - - -

Summary First Story: I, Crowley, known in life as Fergus Roderick MacLeod, being of sound mind, body, and demonized soul, declare that this is my last will and testament. I hereby revoke, annul, and cancel all wills and codicils previously made by me, either jointly or severally. I declare that I am of legal age, and have been since before my lawyer's grandfather was conceived. This last will expresses my wishes without undue influence or duress, even — or, indeed, particularly — when said wishes are contrary to those of anyone who ever wanted anything from me. I hereby nominate, constitute, and appoint the demon Timothy Hubbard as Executor. If this Executor is unable or unwilling to serve, then I appoint the demon Harold Newman as alternate Executor. My Executor is empowered to settle any and all debts on my behalf, excluding soul contracts. I hereby bequeath...

[Teen And Up Audiences ] [ 38,138 Words ] [4 Works] [Read on AO3 here]

What Happened In Vegas by Ltleflrt

Long time friends Dean and Castiel are road tripping from Chicago to San Diego for Sam and Eileen’s wedding, and a pitstop in Las Vegas turns into drunken love confessions and a surprise marriage. Turns out the pining has been mutual this whole time, but now they’re finally together and on cloud-fucking-nine. Until they remember that this trip isn’t supposed to be about them.

To avoid undermining Sam and Eileen’s important weekend, they decide to keep their new relationship status a secret. They’ll keep the heart eyes toned down and their hands to themselves, but the struggle is real.

[Explicit] [ 18,447 Words ] [Read on AO3 here]

My Liege Lord by jhoom

From a young age, Castiel has been groomed to serve as Dean’s personal bodyguard. They’re inseparable as children and good friends as adolescents. When Dean ascends to the throne, though, there’s a subtle shift in their relationship. If only Castiel knew what to make of it…

[Explicit] [ 70,525 Words ] [Read on AO3 here]

I'm the Only by Desirae

Dean cleared his throat. “It’s just, if she did something really bad, maybe Charlie didn’t tell me for a reason. Like, say you cheated on me. If there was the slightest chance I was going to forgive you, I probably wouldn’t tell Charlie about it because I wouldn’t want to taint her image of you.”

“Woah, wait. You think about me cheating on you?” The outraged tone of Cas’ voice had Dean wanting to backtrack fast.

“No, no you’re missing the point. I am just saying IF you cheated on me-”

“If I cheated on you? If I cheated on my husband whom I have loved since high school, who I am utterly devoted to?” Cas’ face had pinkened in his ire and Dean wished he had kept his mouth shut.

When Professor Winchester makes an offhand remark on the way to his sexy husband's tattoo convention, it sends them both on a trip down memory lane, back to High School, where popular goth, Castiel, made it his mission to win the heart of quiet, bookworm Dean. A story of blooming first love that grew into forever.

[Explicit] [ 25,121 Words ] [Read on AO3 here]

Captain America / Marvel CMU - Stucky

The North Star by littleblackfox

“I heard rumour that William Fly is swinging from a gibbet in Boston harbour. They say the age of piracy is ending,” Steve utters softly, rubbing the tip of his thumb across his lower lip. Sam glances at him. “You got plans to retire, Cap? Find a nice little beach in the Indies and a good supply of rum? Couple of pretty girls in grass skirts to dance for you.” “Sam,” Steve mumbles, covering his face with his hand. “I’m sorry, a couple of pretty boys?” Sam grins wickedly. “Sam!” Steve looks scandalised, which gets him nothing but laughter from his Quartermaster. “You’re fired. Go throw yourself overboard this instant.”

[Explicit] [61,335 Words] [Read on AO3 here]

the cold never bothered me anyway by icoulddothisallday

Bucky Barnes has spent his whole life in a state of mild hypothermia. Steve Rogers has spent the last 70 years in the ice. The two things aren’t related until, suddenly, they are. Shrunkyclunks soulmate AU (AKA the awkward bb au)

[Explicit] [ 75,562 Words ] [Read on AO3 here]

penis for password by obsessivereader, talkplaylove, wearing_tearing

Bucky's had his wifi name since forever, courtesy of his friend Clint thinking he’s funny as shit, and he's pretty much forgotten about it—until he hears the enthusiastic shout of 'PENIS!' through the walls from his new next door neighbor.

[Mature] [ 1,557 Words ] [Read on AO3 here]

Death Doesn't Discriminate (Between the Sinners and the Saints) by sangha

James Buchanan Barnes died four years ago, while deployed to Afghanistan. An IED blew up his convoy, his left arm in pieces, his life ended. Eleven months later, his lungs filled with stale air. He was in a wooden box. He had never been this hungry. Somehow he clawed his way through the wooden lid, through dirt and sand. He didn't seem to need to breathe at all. All he knew was hunger.

Now, four years later, Bucky is just trying to make a life for himself, when he meets Steve and he is forced to decide how Steve is going to fit into this new life.

[Mature] [ 57,045 Words ] [Read on AO3 here]

The Northern Lights by ThisChairIsMyHomeNow

“I can’t feel my face,” Steve shivers.

“I can’t feel my left arm,” Bucky says, deadpan. Steve barks out a laugh. It’s all white puffs of vapor in the chilly air.

“This the spot?”

“Nah,” Bucky pants, breath ragged from the long ascent up a mountain. “Almost there.”

[Mature] [ 21,754 Words ] [Read on AO3 here]

to feel your skin on mine by obsessivereader

“Hey Buck, what's wrong?”

Bucky grimaces as he sits down next to Steve. “It aches sometimes,” he says, as he rotates his left arm.

Steve puts down the report he’s reading. “I could massage it for you? I had a physiotherapist after I came out of the ice. The massage really helped when I overdid things while getting back into condition.”

“You?” Bucky pauses mid-rotation, a look of patent disbelief on his face. “Overdo things? Say it ain’t so.”

“Very funny.” He tries to ignore the way his heart is pounding. “You want that massage or what.”

[Explicit] [ 2,484 Words ] [Read on AO3 here]

How to Seduce a Writer by obsessivereader

What's a determined master strategist going to do when the oblivious writer he's trying to woo keeps missing all the clues?

He doesn’t think it’s because he hadn’t signaled his own interest to Bucky. He’s pretty much done everything short of hitting Bucky over the head with semaphore flags by this point. There’s no way Bucky could’ve missed them. Unless… There’d been that one link he’d stumbled upon when he’d googled ‘how to talk to a writer’. It’d been written by a writer, who’d been candid about how oblivious writers could be, and how someone could go about seducing one. An idea starts to form. It’s ridiculous, but at this point, he’s willing to go with ridiculous, since subtle wasn’t getting him anywhere.

[Teen And Up Audiences] [ 2,111 Words ] [Read on AO3 here]

maybe bi guy by obsessivereader

Steve: i saw that guy again. i think i’m not as straight as i thought i was Unknown number: i hate to tell you this but you got the wrong number pal. but hey, i’m bi. i’ve been there. i can talk you through it if you want --- Or Steve embarks on a journey of self-discovery assisted by a helpful stranger who likes to make really bad puns

[Mature] [ 3,338 Words ] [Read on AO3 here]

Lessons In Chemistry by Brenda

Bucky Barnes is having a rough senior year of college: his girlfriend of two years just dumped him for being too boring, he's drowning in lab work and classes and assignments, sleep and free time are a distant memory, and all his friends seem to want to talk about is how he needs to out of his comfort zone.

But then his old high school buddy, Steve Rogers, drops back into his life, and suddenly classwork and studying and getting into a great grad school are the last things on his mind.

[Explicit] [ 42,388 Words ] [Read on AO3 here]

Dare to Dance: Leave Shame at Home by MarleyMortis

Having suffered an accident that left him with anterograde amnesia and an incomplete spinal cord injury, Bucky Barnes is determined to live his life to the fullest and meet the challenges of daily life head-on.

Steve Rogers, marine biologist and a retired Space Airman who led a squadron of F40 Avengers to save New York from an alien invasion, isn’t sure how to move past war until he meets the vivacious Bucky. He’s eager for a second date. Trouble is, his date doesn’t seem to remember him.

[Explicit] [ 86,660 Words ] [Read on AO3 here]

Summer Don't Own Me No More by alby_mangroves, Nonymos

Bucky Barnes, weary soldier, illegal immigrant, sarcastic sex worker. Steve Rogers, miracle of science, lonely man, disillusioned cop. Both of them on a collision course in this brave new world, like that's not gonna end in sex and explosions.

[Explicit] [ 28,349 Words ] [Read on AO3 here]

The Hobbit - Bagginshield - Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield

It's a braid thing (you wouldn't understand) by authoressjean

After the last near "tragedy" (or so the dwarves are calling it, Bilbo's about done with them), Bilbo doesn't cut his hair and instead lets it go long. Except now, now he's almost home, his dwarves insisting on escorting him back, and he's got long hair he doesn't know what to do with.

When Thorin offers to braid his hair, Bilbo reluctantly agrees, if just to have something to remember the dwarf by.

Except it doesn't do Thorin any favors. Bilbo was already attractive enough, and now there are braids. In his hair.

And if Fili and Kili don't stop snickering, Thorin's content to return to Erebor without his heirs.

Prompt fic. One-shot. Sort of.

[Explicit] [ 6,102 Words ] [Read on AO3 here]

slow dancing in a burning room by fideliant

don't you think we ought to know by now? don't you think we should have learned somehow? don't you think we ought to know by now? don't you think we should have learned somehow?

[Explicit] [ 18,806 Words ] [2 Works] [Read on AO3 here]

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(All summaries are the official summaries of the author. Stats and infos as according to hosting site or information given by the author)

Looking for more reading inspiration? Check out my fic rec tag here on tumblr, my reading list masterpost or just check out my AO3 bookmarks.

#fic rec #majels reads #reading list #september #2017 #supernatural #destiel #Marvel CMU #captain america #stucky #the hobbit #bagginshield

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