#god fucking damn it the gun is a little too short probably. to make sense from a top angle. OH WELL. i’m not going back and changing that

[ravenxbones]

next up in my revamped kj designs: jet star!! 💫

she is so important to me… the space puppy tattoo is partially because of @eggbagelz’ headcanon which i saw and thought “oh definitely jet would LOVE laika” and the design is (with permission) one of my lovely friend @andpierres’ tattoo flash designs and tattoo tickets are available on his kofi if YOU would like to have a space puppy tattoo on your own skin! :)

as with the last two posts, untextured version under the cut for cleaner details and accurate colors!

[pedrito-friskito]

strawberry wine - joel miller x ofc!liv stone/fem!reader

after - part thirty-three

SERIES MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST | READ ON AO3

jackson holds more than a few familiar faces.

a/n: these few chapters are so satisfying to me cuz it’s more my own creation that straight outta the show and i hope y’all enjoy 🫶🏻

word count: 7.4k

warnings: nothing crazy, y’all know the drill by now

✨@friskito-library for updates on new parts/works✨

The last time you saw Nick Cowan, Joel had just put a bullet in his shoulder, and he’d nearly put a bullet in Joel’s head. Then you’d picked up the gun Joel had dropped and pointed it right back at the then-FEDRA soldier, your…whatever he once was.

The last thing you said to him rings clear as day in your mind: “Guess I’m just as terrible as you thought.”

He looks…old. It suits him. It’s the eyes that give him away, that signature stare you had once grown so used to. Now, they pin you in place, and you have no choice but to stare right back, taking in the thick beard along his jaw, the scar across his nose, his hair greying and pushed back over his head. He’s bigger than you remember, all broad shoulders towering over you as he gets closer to you, closing the distance, making your brain run a marathon trying to make sense of it.

He’s here. He’s alive.

“Liv?” he croaks out, his voice snapping on your name. His eyes are glassy, those stupidly long lashes you were always silently envious of clumping together. “Is it really…is it really you?”

Nick Cowan opens his arms to you, his boots crunching in the snow beneath your feet. He goes to hug you, saying your name again, shock and happiness on his face.

And you fucking deck him.

You’re pure adrenaline, and you hear the crunch of your knuckles hitting his face more than you feel it. It’s like every eye in the street turns to you as it happens, and Cowan reels backward, spitting blood into the snow and cupping his face. Your hand explodes with pain as you fall back a step, cradling your hand against your chest, and Joel materializes at your side, curling a hand around your elbow.

“Okay,” Cowan grunts, spitting again. “I probably deserved that.”

“Probably?” you nearly shout, stepping forward, but Joel tightens his hold and hauls you back. “It’s okay.”

You wrestle yourself out of Joel’s grip and close the distance between you and Nick. But this time, you hug him. You grab his forearm and throw your arms around him, squeezing him tight. It’s a moment before he returns it, a low chuckle reaching your ears. There are more tears on your face, and god fucking damn it, your hand hurts something fierce, but then you feel something connect with your shin and a tiny voice shouts, “Get your hands off my daddy!”

Nick steps back, releasing you, and you look down to see a little girl, no older than five or six, pulling back to kick you in the shin again. She’s cute, all bright blue eyes and blonde braids and her cheeks flushed with cold. “Deanna, stop it,” Nick chides, reaching down to scoop her into his arms. She goes willingly, giving you the best evil eye you’ve received from someone so young, and it makes you laugh.

You’re still reeling, your aching heart barely able to process. Tommy? Cowan? Alive and well, all this time. It’s almost too much, and then—

“Deanna, come back here!” an unfamiliar voice calls, and you look in its direction to see a young man making his way through the crowd to where you’re stood. 

And your heart sinks into your toes. 

“I’m sorry,” he says to Cowan, reaching into his pocket and producing an inhaler. “She just ran off before I could…” He trails off, and his eyes move to you. “Liv?”

The image of the little boy in your mind is instantly replaced with the older version standing before you. He’s tall, nearly as tall as Cowan, the mop of dark curls now cropped closer to his head, short enough that you can see the scar on his forehead. The memory jars you. He was so little, chasing Emily around the food court, and you’d heard him yelp as he fell. A few minutes later, his dad was carrying him into the medic area where you were working with Deanna. Poor kid cracked his head open and was sniffling around the wad of napkins his dad had pressed to his bleeding forehead.

You’d taken over, carried him over to one of the cots and found a wad of gauze that would soak up the blood a bit better. Henry was all sniffles and big round eyes, staring up at you as you dabbed at his wound. You distracted him, talking about anything and everything while you cleaned it and found him a bandage and told him he was brave. It wasn’t terribly deep, but it had left a thin line above his eyebrow, one you could only really see when the light caught the right way.

“Henry,” you breathe out, and a moment later, he’s in your arms. Despite the height he now has on you, he’s that ten-year-old kid again, hugging you tightly. The kid that groaned about math but still did every piece of homework, that sat vigil at your bedside after you got the shit kicked out of you in lockup, that sweet-talked Joel into a game of Monopoly the first time they met. 

Maybe not your son by blood, but the closest thing you know you’ll ever come to one.

And he’s alive.

But then the mood sours, all in an instant.

“You told us she was dead!” Henry shouts, still clinging to you, but pulling away to spit the words at Cowan. There are tears on his face, making his cheeks ruddy, and you can hear the way his chest wheezes. “All these years, you told us she was gone! You fucking liar!”

You can see the hurt on Nick’s face, the way he flinches back. The little girl — Deanna — hides her face in Nick’s neck, putting her arms around him. A blonde woman appears at his side, puts a hand on Deanna’s back and murmurs something to Nick that you don’t hear over Henry shouting.

“I fucking hate you! You’re a goddamn liar! She was our family!”

“Henry, stop,” you say softly, trying to placate him. “It’s okay, it’s not—”

He wrenches out of your arms and disappears into the crowd, leaving you and Nick to watch him go. Nick hands Deanna off to the blonde and she gives you what you think is a sympathetic smile before also walking away.

“I never meant for it to work out this way,” Nick says, and part of you feels bad for him, but another part wants to deck him again. “They were just kids when we…” He shakes his head. “Deanna and I agreed, it was better that way. That maybe it would stop them from wanting to go back to Boston if they didn’t think you were still there.”

You feel a presence behind you — Joel. His hand rests at the small of your back and you swipe tears from your cheeks. “Well, I was still there, Nick. Wondering this entire time if you were all alive or not. You couldn’t have had the decency to at least let us know you were okay?” Your voice cracks on the question and Joel puts his arm around your waist now, tugging you against him. You’re grateful; it’s the only thing stopping you from punching Nick again.

“Everything I did was to protect them,” Nick says, staring down at his boots. You got him good; his jaw is an angry shade of red, and there’s a spot of red on his bottom lip. “You know exactly why I did what I did.”

Joel bristles, angling himself in front of you, raising a hand. “Can we not do that right now?” he grits out. “There’s a lot going on right this second; we all need to calm the fuck down and you need to watch your mouth.”

Nick doesn’t say anything at first, just nods, but then his eyes flick back to you. “I’m sorry, really, I am. Tommy knows which house is ours, if you want to talk more.”

He turns on his heel, but you stop him. “Nick.” He swivels back to you slowly, his hands dug in his pockets. “I’m assuming the little Deanna is named after the one that took care of us back in Boston.”

“She is,” he nods. “Dee passed five years ago.” But then he stops, and you know the next thing out of his mouth might crush you. “The same flu that took Emily. They’re buried together; I can show you where, if you like. That’s probably where Henry took off to.”

You inhale sharply, stumbling back a step, but Joel doesn’t let you go far. Tommy’s on your other side now, Ellie a half-step behind him, and the woman who had told you to come to Jackson breaks the silence that settles as you watch Nick walk away.

“Why don’t we get you all something to eat?”

 +

You’re all quiet, the only sound at the table is the clatter of cutlery hitting plates. Joel can barely remember the last time he ate off a real plate, let alone sat at a table while he had a meal. It must have been back in Boston, he thinks, back before…

He glances at you between bites. You’re picking at your food, your shoulders hunched around your ears, eyes downcast. Worry knots Joel’s stomach, but goddamn it, he’s hungry. “Liv, honey, eat,” he says, nodding across the table where you’re sat beside Tommy. “Please.”

You just nod, lifting your glass of water and taking a sip.

Beside him, Ellie is wolfing down her food, scraping the plate, eyes glued to the meal like someone might try and take it away from her. “There’s more if you need it,” Maria — the woman who’d brought you here — says from her seat at the head of the table.

“Thank you, ma’am,” Joel says with a slight nod, pausing his own eating. “It’s been a while since we’ve had a proper meal.”

“Actually, I don’t think I’ve ever had a proper meal,” Ellie quips, taking another bite. “This is fuckin’ amazing.”

“Ellie,” you chide, your eyes widening for a second and Joel’s eyes dart between you.

“Sorry,” he says to Tommy and Maria. “Ellie, let’s mind our manners.”

Tommy gives Joel a small smile and lifts his hand, giving your shoulder a squeeze. You offer a half-smile in return, reaching up and squeezing his fingers.

Ellie’s attention is dragged across the large room, and her almost menacing, “What?” makes you both flinch.

“Jesus Christ, Ellie,” you groan, rubbing your hand across your forehead.

“What’s wrong with you?” Joel asks, his eyes darting to the girl who’d been hiding behind a pillar, watching your table.

“What about her manners?” Ellie calls, loud enough for the girl to hear, and you sigh heavily.

“She was just curious,” Maria supplies, her tone placating. “Kids around here don’t usually look or talk like you.”

“Right,” Ellie says with a tight nod. “Well, maybe I’ll teach them.” She glances at Tommy, at you beside him, and then her eyes move back to Maria. “And I want my gun back.”

They’d taken your weapons before you got on the horses, and the other riders had whistled at your barb-wired bat. Joel didn’t doubt you’d get them back, but now isn’t the time or place.

“They also aren’t armed,” Maria replies.

“We don’t need to be,” you add, earning an open-mouthed look from Ellie. “Not in here.”

An awkward silence settles for a moment while Ellie cleans her plate, and Joel’s worry subsides some when he sees you take a few more bites.

“Y’know what,” Tommy starts, glancing between you all, “I think maybe y’all got a little off on the wrong foot.”

“She was gonna have her guys kill us,” Ellie almost sneers, and your eyes dart to Joel before you reach across the table, just laying your fist on the tabletop.

“Well, we gotta be real careful about who we let in this place. It’s all bark, we’re just tryna scare off those who might wanna try us is all.”

“Well, you got a couple of ninety-year-olds shitting themselves out there.”

“Ellie!” Joel grits, and you put your face in your hands.

“They say that you leave dead bodies around?” she continues, ignoring both of you.

“Those are the people who tried us,” Maria responds easily, barely fazed. 

“A bad reputation doesn’t mean you’re bad,” Tommy says, and Joel sees the recognition on your face as you drop your hands, squaring your shoulders slightly.

“Not always, at least,” Maria says. Her eyes linger on Joel as she says it, and it makes him bristle. He sees your face pinch from the corner of his eye and you lean up, straightening, laying both elbows on the table.

He can see you holding yourself back, wanting to jump on the defence. So he tries to change the subject. “Ma’am, we’re grateful for your hospitality and all,” he lays down his fork and looks to his brother, “but it’d be nice to have a moment here, maybe just for family.”

You inhale sharply, reaching for your water glass again. 

Tommy pauses, balks, before, “Well, um.” He reaches a hand out and Maria takes it, a small smile on her face. “Maria is family, actually.”

Your water glass rattles as you set it back down. “Oh shit!” Ellie says, her tone suddenly lighter. “Congrats.”

Joel doesn’t have words, barely registering you putting your hand on Tommy’s arm and murmuring, “That’s great.”

“Joel,” Ellie calls softly, snapping him out of it, “say congrats.”

“Congrats,” he repeats drily.

The silence that settles after is so awkward Joel wants to crawl out of his own skin, but his brother breaks it. “How about a tour?”

You nearly jump into action, collecting the dishes and cutlery and stacking them together, waving Maria off when she tells you to leave them. Joel makes his way around the table to your side, helps you into your coat. You mumble a thank you, give him a tight smile when he finds your hand and gives it a squeeze.

Maria leads you out of the mess hall and back onto the street. The air is so bitingly cold, such a stark difference from the warmth inside, that Joel flinches, and you tuck yourself against his side, ducking under his arm.

“We settled here about seven years ago,” Maria tells you as you start walking, her voice loud over the noise of the street. “Just a handful of us back then.” She points to one part of the wall. “That section was already a gated community so we built the rest of the wall out from there. Stopped most of the raiding parties, but we still find pockets of them.”

“And you said Infected?” Joel asks, rubbing his hand over your shoulder.

“Yeah,” Tommy answers, “but usually smaller colonies, wandered off from the cities. All this open country out here, it’s a turkey shoot. I still got my 700, but I found a variable power scope, sub-MOA. Can headshot those fuckers from a half mile out.” Joel smirks; his brother, forever the gun nerd.

It gets Ellie’s attention. “Can you teach me how?”

“No, he can’t,” Joel says immediately. He’s half-expecting you to interject, but you don’t say a word. “How do you keep this place quiet?”

“Carefully,” Maria responds. “Being in the middle of nowhere helps, not advertising what we have, staying off the radio.”

That makes Joel stop, and you do too, your hand curling into a fist at his hip as Tommy shoots him a look.

“House of worship,” Maria continues, either unfazed or unaware of the silent exchange as she points out buildings, “multi-faith. School. Laundry. Old bank works as the jail, not that we’ve needed it.”

Joel’s gaze drifts up, to the power lines linked along the street. “And you draw power from the dam?”

“Got that working a couple of years ago,” she says with a nod. “After that, sewage, plumbing, water heaters, lights.”

Ellie shakes her head, glancing around. “This place actually fuckin’ works.”

You keep walking, eventually coming to an area that looks like a makeshift farm. A herd of sheep runs past as you all step through the fence, bleating as they go.

“Hey, Joel,” Ellie calls, beaming, “check it! Baa!”

You both laugh, and Joel squeezes your shoulder.

“So, are you like, in charge?” Ellie asks Maria, clearly starting to get over her earlier…ferocity.

“No one person’s in charge,” Maria answers. “I’m on the council. Democratically elected, serving three hundred people, including children. Everyone pitches in. We rotate patrols, food prep, repair, hunting, harvesting.”

“Everything you see in our town,” Tommy chimes in, “greenhouses, livestock, all shared. Collective ownership.”

“So, communism,” you pipe up, leaning around Joel to look at Tommy.

Tommy’s expression is pure confusion as he shakes his head. “Nah. Nah, it ain’t like that.”

“It is that,” Marie corrects him. “Literally. This is a commune. We’re communists.”

Tommy stops in his tracks, clearly shocked at this revelation, and Joel has to stifle his laugh as he walks past his brother. The conversation trails off as you come up to a row of stables, and Ellie is instantly taken by a young foal poking its head out of the half door.

“Well, I’m sure they’d all like a shower, some new clothes,” Maria says, looking at Tommy. “We can put them in the empty house across the street from us.”

“Yeah,” Tommy nods. “It’s a decent place. Pretty much untouched since ‘03, but it’s got the heat goin’ in it. Could do worse.”

You blow out a breath, turning to steam in the cold air. Joel can hear the words on the tip of your tongue before Ellie interjects, “Oh, trust me, we have been.”

It bothers him more than it should. She looks back at the two of you with a grin on her face that quickly disappears. “We’ve been doin’ fine.”

“Joel,” you say quietly, turning your body against his.

Marie doesn’t miss the exchange and looks at you. “Well, I can take Liv and Ellie over there if you two wanna catch up?” She pauses. “Unless, you—”

“No, let the brothers do their thing,” you say with a nod, peeling away from Joel’s side. He wants to pull you back the second you’re gone, but he stops himself. “I have a few…unfinished conversations of my own to take care of.”

Maria nods. “I can show you where the Cowans live; it’s not far from our place.”

“Yeah,” Joel says, watching as you walk over to where Ellie’s standing, reaching up and petting the foal’s nose. Ellie seems to relax further when you touch her shoulder. “Okay.”

“We’ll be fine,” you tell Joel, and he’s not quite sure who you’re trying to convince, you or him.

Tommy starts to lead him away, and Joel gives you one last glance before following his brother away from the stables.

+

Standing on the front porch of what Maria has told you is the Cowans’ home, you feel nervous, of all things. Your fury has subsided some, turned instead to a quiet ache that lingers in your chest, makes your heart rate rise when you let your mind wander. You feed yourself the facts instead, still trying to make sense of it all.

Nick is alive. Tommy is alive. Henry is alive.

Deanna is dead. Emily is dead.

Somehow, the confirmation makes it easier. You can’t even begin to add up all the time you’ve spent wondering over the years, when Nick first took them away, when Tommy left with the Fireflies. The wondering always made it worse. It was the same when the outbreak first hit, stuck in Boston, not knowing who lived or died. It was Nick that gave you the closure that your parents were gone. Then Joel’s panicked admission that Anna had lived through being bitten, but then FEDRA carted her off, never to be seen again. 

That’s one bit of closure you still don’t have.

My parents are dead. Bill and Frank are dead. Sarah is dead. Anna is…dead.

You suck in a shaky breath, the iciness of it chilling you from the inside out as you lift your hand and knock twice.

It’s a few moments before the door swings inward, revealing the blonde woman who had stood beside Nick earlier in the street. “Oh,” she says, her voice bordering between overly bright and cautious, “it’s you.”

“Olivia,” you offer, extending your hand, “but call me Liv.”

“Sloane,” she responds, taking it. “Nick’s upstairs. D’you wanna come in?”

You stall, thrown off by her invitation. “Oh, uh, sure.”

Sloane steps aside to let you in and you step over the threshold, immediately soaking in the warmth that greets you. “This must all be very…strange for you.”

You lift your brows, glancing around the house as she shuts the door behind her. It’s quaint, with a Christmas tree in one corner of the living room that you can see, a kitchen to the other side. You can see little Deanna perched at the table, crayons in hand, and it’s so reminiscent of Emily, of your life back in Boston, that you nearly turn on your heel and dart back into the cold. 

Your face must give you away, and Sloane seems to think she caused it. “Oh no, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“No, no,” you cut her off, waving a hand. “Strange is probably the nicest way to put it.” You try to laugh, try to make the atmosphere a little lighter, but the sound twists in your throat. “I’m the one who should be sorry; I didn’t mean to barge in here like this.”

She gives you a small smile. “I invited you in, Liv. It’s okay, really. Nick told me a lot about you.”

“Only the good stuff, I hope,” you say, returning the grin while inwardly praying he left out some of your…finer details. “Although, there’s not a lot of good stuff, which I’m sure you know.”

“We do what we have to,” she replies, lifting her shoulder, and you balk. “It all happens the way it does for a reason. If you’d stayed together, he wouldn’t be here.” She pauses, looks over her shoulder toward the kitchen. “And I wouldn’t have that beautiful little girl.”

Tears spring in your eyes and you blink furiously while she’s not looking, willing them away.

“I’m sorry, by the way,” she says, turning back to you. “Nick said she kicked you in the shins after…”

“…after you clocked me in the jaw,” Nick finishes, coming down the stairs, sporting the starting of a bruise along his beard. “Glad I only ever taught you to shoot. If I’d taught you how to punch, I’d probably still be unconscious in the street.” You open your mouth to say something, but you’re caught off guard as Nick leans over the stair rail to kiss Sloane hello, which she returns with a grin.

He looks so…at ease. Jealousy sparks in your gut something fierce. Not that he’s kissing her and not you — that ship sailed many moons ago. But seeing them here, in their home, with their daughter. It’s a postcard reminder of all the things you and Joel don’t have. Have never had. May not ever have.

“Nick, can we talk?” you ask, shoving your hands in the pockets of your coat. “Please? I promise not to clock you again.”

He barks a laugh, reaching for his coat on a hook near the door. “Let’s go.”

Sloane kisses him again before he leaves, leading you out the door and back into the cold. You fall into step easily, heading deeper into Jackson, past more houses and people. It looks almost like a real neighbourhood, kids building snowmen in their front yards, Christmas trees glittering in windows. You’re both quiet, but Nick’s the one that breaks the silence.

“Go ahead and ask, Liv,” he says, digging his hands in his pockets while you toy with your own. “I can hear the wheels in your head going from here.”

“Maria said this settlement has been here seven years,” you start, his words all the confirmation you need to start asking for the answers you need, “but you left Boston what, fourteen years ago? What did you do between Boston and here?”

He sighs, his breath turning to a cloud of steam in the air. “Whatever I had to. I only got us out of the QZ by asking for a transfer, and we barely survived the trek to Chicago with FEDRA on our side. But we were there almost five years.” He gestures to the left when the sidewalk splits, and you follow his direction. “After Chicago went to shit, we did whatever we could. Lots of sleeping on the road, hiding in abandoned buildings. The kids hated it, Deanna even more so, but there were more of us then, some people she’d befriended in Chicago, a few other soldiers who’d grown tired of the bullshit, like me. Sloane was one of them.”

“She was FEDRA?” you ask, genuinely shocked.

“Yeah,” he replies, nodding. “I think she’s the only person who’s given me more of a run for my money than you did.”

“Nick—”

“I don’t blame you for doing what you did,” he says, staring at his boots as you keep walking. The sidewalk splits again and this time, you go right. The houses are further apart here, a small copse of trees coming into view at the end of the street. “Or Joel. He was just trying to protect you, and I’m sorry for what I—”

“You shot him in the head, Nick,” you say, bristling. “You can’t just apologize for that and make it all go away. You could have killed him. His hearing hasn’t been the same since it happened.”

He stops in his tracks, staring at you, wide-eyed. “What?”

“You heard me,” you tell him, defiant only to cover up the way your bottom lip is wobbling. “And then you tell Henry and Emily that I’m dead?”

“Well, I couldn’t tell them the truth, could I?” he shoots back and starts walking again. You inhale sharply and follow. “Henry was so mad when we left. He kept asking where you were, if you were gonna meet us in Chicago, over and over. It just seemed…easier. And how in the hell was I supposed to know that you’d show up here one day and prove me wrong?”

“You could have sent a message,” you say, your chest growing tight, “when you got to Chicago. Or when you got here. Never mind, I should give Tommy a fucking earful for not telling me you’ve been here this whole time.”

“I asked him not to,” he admits, and your brows shoot up. “Yes, I lied, okay, Liv? I’m a terrible fucking person. But you were just as bad as I was. You put that entire QZ at risk coming back when you did, and I—”

“Stop it,” you grit, lifting a hand, shocked when he cuts himself short. “Never in a million years would I have come back if I wasn’t sure. I made Joel promise to put me down if I so much as twitched. I made him swear to put a bullet in my head and leave me there, then go back to the QZ and tell everyone how fucking sorry I was.”

You’ve reached the end of the street, the edge of the small forest, and Nick keeps moving forward, stepping onto the snow. You follow, grinding your teeth together as you go.

You walk in silence for some time, Nick stepping quickly, a few feet in front of you, and you keep your distance, unsure if you can handle the rest of this conversation.

The clearing comes into view after a bit of walking, and Nick moves to the side, revealing a graveyard of sorts, a few rows of grave markers dusted with snow. They’re simple markers, wooden crosses driven into the earth, names scrawled across them, painted on a few. One of the graves is fresh.

Seeing Deanna’s name feels like a punch to the gut, but Emily’s hits twice as hard. You drop to your knees in the snow, reaching out and brushing your hand over the cross, the wreath of flowers that sits atop it. “Sloane does that,” Nick tells you, his voice hushed. “She’s got a whole garden in our backyard just to bring the flowers here. Grows them inside in the winter. She loved Emily.”

Your tears flow freely, dripping off your chin and hitting the snow. “It was a flu?”

“Yes,” he answers, crouching down beside you. “Five years ago, now. We’d been here six months, and things felt good, but then the kids started getting sick, a lot of them. Henry got it too, and I thought he’d go before Emily, with his lungs being so awful, but he didn’t. A few other kids passed, and Deanna was so hellbent on helping as many as she could, swearing up and down that she wouldn’t catch it.” His voice snaps and he clears his throat. “I shouldn’t have listened to her.”

Despite it all, you reach out and put your hand on his arm. “You and I both know that’s not a battle you would have won, Nick.”

“I know,” he answers, his eyes glassy as he covers your hand with his. “And I know that I can’t just apologize and make it all go away, Liv, but for whatever it is worth to you, I am sorry.”

“I am, too,” you reply, squeezing his arm, “for whatever it’s worth.”

The corner of his mouth lifts. “This is all so fucked up, but it is good to see you.”

Slowly, you both get to your feet. Your knees are shaky and you can’t bring yourself to pull your gaze away from Deanna and Emily’s grave. After a moment, Nick loops his arm around your shoulders and tugs you against him. You let it happen, glad for his warmth, and lean your head against him.

“It’s good to see you, too.”

+

Nick walks you back to town, points you in the direction of what you learn is Tommy’s bar. The snow crunches under your feet, and as you cross the road, you feel lighter than you have in a long time. Your heart aches, but you can make peace with the loss of Deanna, and to a lesser extent, Emily. There’s no denying the grief that has you by the collar, but knowing they didn’t turn, that they weren’t torn to shreds, that they didn’t die like…that. It brings you some strange sense of peace.

You catch sight of Joel walking out of the bar as you get close, and you can tell he doesn’t notice you standing there. There’s a faraway look on his face that makes your gut twist with unease, the Christmassy atmosphere around you doing little to distract you.

He pulls his coat on and you watch him step down onto the sidewalk, feet carrying him towards the nearest lamppost. He leans heavily against it, one hand lifting to press against his chest, the other curling around the post, and you surge forward, calling his name.

“I’m fine,” he spits at you when you get close, his head lifting, waving you off. “I’m—”

The words choke off in his throat, his eyes caught on something over your shoulder, and before you can ask, he steps away from the post, moves past you, and you can see what he’s looking at.

If you didn’t know she was gone, you’d think you were looking at the back of Sarah Miller. An older version, taller, her hair a bit longer than your memory serves, but the similarities are uncanny. Your heart crawls into your throat as a young girl bounds toward Sarah’s doppelgänger, falling into her open arms with a giggle.

More tears springing into your eyes, you step closer to Joel, putting a hand on his arm. “Baby,” you murmur, letting your hand drop, reaching for his, “let’s go get cleaned up, yeah?”

He doesn’t move. You both stay where you are, Joel’s eyes tracking the girls as they disappear, but you can almost hear the wheels churning in his mind. You say his name again, but he ignores you, and as you watch, that hard mask — one you haven’t seen for a while now — forms on his face, effectively pushing you away.

“I’m goin’ for a walk,” he bites out, and before you can reply, he’s gone, tugging his coat closer, stalking off through the crowds.

You have half a mind to follow him, but something tells you you shouldn’t, and you stay put, wipe the tears from your lashes, looking around at the town. There are just so many…people. Happy people, healthy people. 

Part of you wants to deck Tommy for not telling you to come sooner, but then you remember Maria’s pointed look in the mess hall, when he’d said that having a bad reputation doesn’t always make you bad. What stories has he told his wife? How much does she know? She’d kept him off the radio, after all, leaving you and Joel to spiral back in Boston.

You blow out a breath, refusing to dwell on the past, on all the things you don’t have the power to change now. You made it here, found much more than you bargained for, and hopefully, Joel got some information from Tommy about where you go next. Peering around, you realize you’re not totally sure where you’ve ended up, making your plan to head to the house Maria had briefly shown you before taking you to Cowan’s a moot point. You turn on your heel, contemplating going into the bar to talk to Tommy, when you barrel straight into someone. 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” you say immediately, your boots sliding against the snow. The other person grabs your arm, keeping you upright, and your eyes flick up, widening. “Henry!”

It’s obvious he’s been crying. His eyes are red-rimmed, his nose bright, and he sniffles as he nods at you. “I’m sorry about earlier.”

“Don’t be,” you assure him, reaching up and cupping his cold cheek in your palm. “Honey, you’re freezing.”

“I was at the graves,” he tells you, and you nod, “but when I heard you and Nick coming, I ran. I didn’t know what to—”

You shake your head. “Henry, it’s okay, really. I promise. This day has been…intense. I was just about to go back to the house Maria put us up in, but I realized I don’t really know where I’m going. Why don’t you show me the way, and I’m sure we can scrounge up something warm to drink inside?”

The corner of his mouth lifts, a tiny smile, but a smile all the same. “That sounds good.”

“Good,” you agree, and he offers you his elbow, turning you in the opposite direction you’d about to start walking. “God, you’re so tall.”

“Giving Nick a run for his money,” he says, and you can hear the smile still in your voice. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course, honey,” you tell him, slipping your hand into the crook of his elbow as you start walking. “Anything.”

“Do you remember my parents?”

Oof. “A little. I never really got the chance to know them well; I wasn’t at the mall very long before they died, but I remember them being very nice, very kind. Your dad was very funny, he was always trying his hardest to make you kids laugh.”

“And my mother?”

You swallow hard, ignoring the scene that flashes in your mind. The last time you’d seen Tim and Marcy, FEDRA soldiers had been carrying their bodies out of the mall where you’d all been staying. Tim had blood on his mouth and a bullet in his brain, and Marcy’s throat had been ripped out.

“She was beautiful,” is what comes out of your mouth, and it’s not a lie. She was a beautiful woman, and part of you aches at the realization that you and Deanna never really talked to the kids about their parents much, at least not while they were in Boston. “She chased the two of you around a lot, but I remember she’d tell you bedtime stories every night.”

“I remember that, I think,” Henry says, and you squeeze his arm. “I remember her telling me she’d always chase the bad dreams away.”

You lean your head against his shoulder. “I’m sorry it’s all worked out this way. It’s not fair.”

He falls silent, and you walk quietly until the house comes into view. You head inside, finding a note from Ellie that she’s across the street at Maria and Tommy’s house. The house is warm, and sure enough, it’s easy to find a few stray tea bags, some mugs, water and a kettle.

Henry takes a seat at the kitchen island as you make the tea, arms propped on the counter, shoulders hunched. Part of you wants to ask him about Emily, but you hold your tongue, searching the kitchen cabinets and eventually finding a few sugar packets.

“Deanna still talked about you a lot,” Henry says suddenly, and his voice almost makes you jump. “After we left Boston. I think she was mad at Nick, for taking us away, and I don’t know if they ever made up, really and truly.”

“She was mad?” you repeat, dropping the tea bags into mugs and filling them with hot water. “At Nick?”

He nods. “I don’t think she really believed him, when he told us you were dead. Em and I were just kids, but Deanna…she’d give him shit all the time, anytime he made a decision on the road, she’d always counter him and say something like, if Liv were here, she’d do this.”

It makes your throat tight. Sounds like the Deanna you remember.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and your brow lifts, “for believing him.”

You shake your head, setting one of the mugs in front of him and taking the seat beside his. “Henry, honey, you were just a kid. You couldn’t have known; you don’t need to apologize.”

He taps his fingers against the side of his mug. “You were always there for us, Liv. I remember that.” His forehead furrows. “I remember…you getting hurt? You slept on the couch in our apartment for a few days and…” He trails off, shaking his head, but you remember.

“I fell down the stairs,” you say, recounting the lie you’d offered to cover up the beating you’d received in FEDRA lockup, your penance for Joel and Tess coming into the QZ. “That was just after Joel showed up.”

He nods. “I remember being really, really worried when I saw all the bruises, and Deanna told me not to worry, that you were tough and you’d be fine, but I snuck out of bed that night anyway and just sat by the couch, made sure you were still breathing.”

A smile tugs at your lips. “I remember. You scared the shit out of me, honestly.” That earns you a laugh, and you put your hand on his knee. “But then you started crying, and so I hugged you and told you I wasn’t going anywhere, that there was nothing that could take me away from you kids.”

“But then Nick did.”

You inhale sharply. You’re entering dangerous territory. “He did. I don’t agree with him telling you that I was dead, but he had his reasons, Henry. And he did his best to protect all of you.”

“Do you know the reason?” he asks, and your heart sinks. “Because even if you were dead, it doesn’t make sense why he dragged us out of Boston like that.”

“I don’t understand FEDRA anymore than you do, honey. He told me you stayed in Chicago for a while; if they sent him there, he probably didn’t have much of a choice.”

“But why did he want to take us away from you? And why didn’t you come looking for us?”

Fuck.

You shove a hand through your hair with a sigh. “I didn’t know where he’d taken you. I was the last person FEDRA was going to divulge information to, and without knowing even which direction he’d taken you, there was nothing for me to go on.”

It’s not entirely the truth, but it’s not entirely a lie either. You had no idea where Nick had taken them when he did, leaving behind only the note he’d written, telling you not to come after them, that you should stay in Boston and that he’d keep your secret. A secret you don’t think you can bring yourself to tell Henry. Not yet, anyway.

Henry sips his tea and you stare down into your mug. Silence settles, but it’s only a few moments before Henry breaks it. “I miss her every single day,” he says, and your eyes lift. “Emily.”

It feels like a punch in the chest. Your eyes are sore from crying already, and yet tears spring anew. “I do too,” you tell him, “and I don’t have the same version you did. She’s still a little kid in my mind, drawing butterflies everywhere.”

“She got really good at it,” he continues, a sad smile pulling at his mouth. “Drawing, I mean. It was all she ever wanted to do, and Nick always made sure she had something to draw with. Good of him, I guess, despite it all.”

“Henry, honey, you can’t hate him forever,” you say, veering for a subject change, if only to beat down the grief rising in your chest. “You’re allowed to be mad; I’m mad as all hell. But Nick Cowan is the closest thing you’ve had to a father in this world, and you know that as well as I do. He did what he had to, and he did it to protect you.” You inhale sharply. “If the roles were reversed, I’d have done the same thing.”

That gets his attention. His head snaps up, eyes meeting yours. “What?”

You sigh. You can’t tell him, you know you can’t. But despite all of it, Nick lied to protect them because of you, and you can’t let Henry hate him because of what you did.

“It was my fault,” you say finally, and the grief feels like it might spill over anyway, but you can’t keep up the facade, can’t let Nick take all the blame for this. “I messed up, and it put everyone in danger, and that’s why Nick took you away. I never came after you because I didn’t know where you went, and Nick told me to keep my distance. It was never anything you did, or your sister, or Deanna. It was me, Henry. I caused this. So if you’re going to hate anyone, it should be me. Nick did what he had to.”

He stares at you for a long moment. You wish the floor would split open and swallow you whole, but it doesn’t. You brace your hands on the countertop, waiting for the shouting, the same words he’d hurled at Nick in the street.

But instead, you get, “Are you staying? In Jackson?”

Not what you were expecting, but you’ll take it. “Not for long. We came looking for Tommy, hoping he might know where to take Ellie.”

“That’s the girl that’s with you?” You nod. “You’re taking her to the Fireflies?”

Your brows shoot up. “How do you—”

He waves you off. “Tommy likes to talk when he’s drunk.”

“You—” You cut yourself off, unable to lie any further. “Yes.”

“And after? When she’s where she needs to be?”

Your brow furrows and you shrug. “Honestly, I don’t know. Joel and I haven’t decided. We’ve never had a decision like this available to us, and we’d have to talk to Maria more first, I think.” You stare down into your mug again. “I don’t think she likes us much.”

“Aren’t you supposed to hate your in-laws?” he jokes, the mood instantly lightening, and you bark a laugh.

“How would you know?” When his cheeks go red, you smile. “Someone special?”

Henry nods. “Very special.” He swallows, setting his mug on the counter. “His name is Cal.”

The spark in his eyes makes your gut twist with happiness. Despite it all, Henry’s managed to find something that makes his eyes light up like a Christmas tree, something that brings him joy you can feel.

You throw your arms around his neck. “I’m glad, Henry. I’m so, so glad.”

And you are.

PREV | NEXT

[spectorings]

Hi! Another thirsty ask here hehe. May I please request some headcanons for DMC guys with multi-orgasmic s/o? Like s/o always wants more and more even after round one without feeling overstimulated 👉🏻👈🏻

Looove your writings so much! Thank you! ❤️

Oooof yes, let’s go 😮‍💨 sorry this isn’t that great, my brain just kinda?? I’m sorry if this isn’t what you wanted or if it’s not that great (it’s kinda short tbh) - but thank you, I’m glad you enjoy my little account!! 💚💚

Warnings - sex, foreplay, barely mentions of orgasm denial, just smut in general tbh

Reader - g/n

— Dante —

He’d probably love it in all honesty, at first he’d probably make sure you were okay with it, prepare for a lot of “are you sure?” And “do you really think you can handle me again, sweetheart?” He’s obviously not going to deny your requests, but god is he going to drag it out and tease you as much as he can. It’s a given he’s got a LOT of stamina, so he’s definitely up to the challenge, but expect him to become more creative each time, with a lot more teasing and orgasm denial for you - he’ll try his damned hardest to get you a blubbering and quivering mess beneath him. He lives for foreplay, too, so expect him to keep going down on you even after you’ve came for him, eventually he’ll give in to his own needs and fuck you senseless, and if you still want more? Then prepare because he’s not going to stop for the entire night, so be sure that you want more than one round because he’s going to make it his job that you won’t be able to walk straight for the next week

— Vergil —

He probably won’t think much about it, he always makes sure to make you cum multiple times regardless, he feels like he needs to do that otherwise the job just isn’t done. He’s a man that can last a long time if needed, especially after the first time he’s came, so he’s more than up to doing that for you. Sex would normally last a decently long time in general, he makes sure to make you cum in every way he can before fucking you, and then a few times while fucking you. If you were to say you could manage more without being overstimulated, he’d probably take it as a challenge?? He’d go out of his way to play and tease every single sensitive part of your body, focusing on every thing he knows you love and whatever drives you over the edge the most - he’s going to pull out the big guns. He’d honestly love a partner that can go multiple rounds, because he himself usually likes to go a few times before stopping for the night, too. I feel like he’d try a lot of new things, and even maybe show you a new thing or two, and you’d probably learn a lot of new things that you just love for him to do to your body

— Nero —

He’d probably be slightly confused at how you could keep going after he makes you cum as much as he does, he wouldn’t know whether you were being serious at first when you asked for him to keep going. He’d be the same as Dante in the sense of asking you whether you’re sure, except he’d be more genuine rather than teasing about it - at least the first time, anyway. Once he learned you could go more than one round without being overstimulated then you’d never have to ask him to keep going again, he’d just make it his duty to keep pleasing you until he couldn’t anymore. He’s the guy that adores oral, so expect him to be going down on you….a lot! Once he’s done fucking you, he’d be straight back between your legs, and repeating the entire process. He’s young and has a lot of emotions and steam to blow off, so he loves being able to keep fucking you over and over, hearing you scream his name all night as he keeps pounding into you is one of his favourite things in life - maybe it’s just the demon blood in him, but god, he just wants to ruin your pretty little body

— V —

As we’ve established many times before, this man is a whole ass giver, so if you beg him for more then he’s going straight back to it. He’ll focus on every single part of your body, leaving nothing untouched, all while whispering sweet nothings into your ear and kissing at your neck. His hands will do a lot of work, even while he’s deep inside of you, he wants to make sure to please every part of you that he can at once. No matter how tired he is after he’s came, he’ll be back to touching and kneading your body, giving you as much as you wanted until you couldn’t possibly take anymore, then he’d fuck you again for good measure. When it comes to going multiple rounds, he’s much more focused on giving you pleasure than he is getting any himself - he won’t take your words as a challenge like Vergil, but more of a promise, and it’s a promise he’d expect you to keep. If you don’t keep that promise? Well, you’re going to be a whimpering mess beneath him, covered in sweat and cum, and he’ll make you love every single second of it

[holographicang3l]

My hot take on the Evangelion 3.0+1.0 movie

-40 mins of shinji crying, trying to get over the trauma seeing Kaworus head explode and splatter across the window is relatable.

- Mari confused the fuck out of me. Her existence didn't make much sense but ok. Too much boob shots, too much fan service.

- Asukas story was good. Liked that she's also a Type series like Rei. Too much fanserves. They put a shit ton of detail on her naked body. I hated it.

- the Angel concept of Asuka was cool though it was predictable.

- So little of Ritsuko and Misato. Little to no personality.

- Kaji probably controlled Mark 6 to cut off Liliths head to stop the impact. (theory / headcanon / could have been kaworu as well but damn)

- hated that everyone was blaming shinji even tho he saved everyone at the same time. Ungreatful people, trying to blame a kid for ALLL the mess is pretty messed up.

- Kaworu and Asukas soul piloting Eva 13 lmao (I assume at least that's the case)

- I was laughing so ugly about the animation fo 3d Rei. Didn't give me the creeps, I was just making fun of it.

- some scenes are quiet awkwardly cut.

-I HATED the 3d fight between Eva 13 and Eva 1. It felt unfinished and unpolished.

- I did like the trueman show style of backdrop in the fight, where Eva 01 slammed through the scene wall.

- funny headless mannequin flying hand in hand 3d style. Looked ugly af but I can see the artistics in it.

- Weird but, the voice of Fuyutsuki sounded off, as if it was wrongly recorded. Maybe it was just me.

- "The key of Nebukadnezar ITS FULL CYCLE BOYS" urgh.

- Shinji putting the fucking dss choker on like the Chad he is.

- finally got in the fucking robot. What a huge Chad.

-crying kaworu was nice. Made him more human.

- didn't see it as if Shinji thinks Kaworu as his father figure, Idk how people can interpret that shit. They just come off as similar. Just because I see someone similar to a family member doesn't mean that I see them as a father or mother figure yall just interpret what you want to.

- Timeloop theory confirmed, we did it boys, depression is no more.

- it felt like a shit ton of things got cut off due to the awkward pacing, dialouge and some scenes.

- Ryo-chan I can't fucking-

- Commander Nagisa ✨ It was all an elaborate plan. Kaworu probably developed the Anti L- barrier thing or at least helped. (headcanon)

- Kaji was like father to me (probably kaworu somehow)

- melon farmer Kaworu confirmed

- Adult shinji, bantering with Mari.

-don't like the boob thing tho.

- hated the fan service. Loaded like a baked potato.

-Rei was fucking cute

- I would die for her.

- Fuck gendou

-I will not sympathies with a fucking egomaniac.

- dude fucked humanity bcs he couldn't accept the death of his wife.

- super obsessed.

-what a moron. I swear.

- Gendo hugging Shinji was cute tho.

- can't accept his apology tho, still asshole, can go rot in hell.

- All parents are assholes in Eva except Touji and Hikari.

-Tsubume and Rei fucking cute I swear.

- Kensuke is the ultimate winner, he looks handsome. Would fuck

- Rei and the farmer woman were cute, I want more content.

- End scene was stupid.

- the ending in general was good tho.

- felt bitter sweet but also satisfying.

- One LAST kiss slaps

- What if?: orchestra, piano slapped my soul into the Anti universe and now I'm sitting on the Golgatha object, ready to find Kaworu.

- I wanted them to be all happy.

-hopefully they are.

- Mari and Shinji probably endgame

- probably just friends tho, I mean come on.

-kawoshinners are crying.

- Kaworu going to super hell (predicted, it's all full cycle kids, go home)

MORE STUFF!!

- Maria Iskariot?! I mean what (yeah I know what the innuation is here but still)

- Asuka is a clone, guess Langley was the Original but died and the Shikinami series was deployed Idk, I'm not anno.

- Fucking technoblabble and pseudo-philosophy

- my brain melted trying to understand half of the bs that was spoken about

- I like Ryoji Kaji Jr. He's cute. I want 500 fanfics of him being a cute gardener and being best friends with kaworu (please im in pain help me)

- Parallels between Gendou and Ritsuko shooting at each other *chefs kiss*

- the detail in the scenery was just amazing.

- I'm a headless wandering Eva (no thoughts head empty)

- I missed the mass production Eva's (way cooler though I really liked the skull Eva's as well)

- give me a 14 years before prequel or give me death (probably gonna die before it comes out)

- I swear I was so sad when doppelganger Rei busted into Fanta, best development of Rei ngl

- I can not stop my anger with Gendou I swear.

-I don't care how he's written Gendo/ Gendou/Gendoh, all versions are assholes

- That L barrier thing in Asukas eye was the most painful thing to watch. Body gore Asuka as always.

- NEON GENESIS

- "I'll come and get you Shinji" SHUT UP

- The self insert story was funny tho ngl

- That hair flip was fabulous

- KaWoRu AnD rEi aRe StAnDinG in ClOsE pRoXiMiTy ThEy mUsT bE tOgEtHeR (what the fuck, can't people have normal friends from the other gender? )

- ShInJi aNd MaRi hElD hAnDs ThEy mUsT bE tOgEThEr (what the fuck, can't friends of the other gender hold hands? Does that mean I'm dating my best friend for holding his hand?! MAKE SENSE PEOPLE)

- UwU Asushin is Canon UwU (In the past maybe, was a huge cockblock from anno here, go cry in a corner and read your top rated evageek hentai manga of Asuka x Shinji Jesus christ (don't slaughter me) )

- God is dead after the stunt Gendou pulled and Kawoshin is (no) more (lmao no but yes but no, don't slaughter me)

- UNIT8 be like: "you're talking mad shit for someone being in consuming range" and proceeds to eat all the units (vore is strong in this one)

- Eva 13 and Eva 1 hugging (and penetrating) best shit I've seen

- Maris scream for Asuka was painful. It ripped my heart in pieces.

- Angel Unit2 was too short. I want more of that.

-That tiny Kaworu in the background while Angel Asuka absorbs Shikinami (I don't know fam, the movie is confusing)

- I read somewhere that Headless kaworu corpse playing the piano in the entry plug was cut off from the script and Im not sure if that is true but I would have LOVED TO SEE IT

- Eva 3.0+1.0 was annos huge middle finger to all of Evangelion and I love it.

- tells us to grow up and stop hyperfocusing at the characters proceeds to make them as sexual as possible lmfaooo

- That Lance of WILLE thing looks like something out of Darling in the FRANXX series and I laughed so hard.

- YUI Yui YUI YUI Yui Yui YUI

- there you are YUI?!

- Mom was in me (I want to die)

- Gonna use plot device shit to make a Lance out of a spine (damn shinji obtained a backbone to defeat his deadbeat father, I would have never seen this coming *irony*)

- Gotta defeat your dad with the power of friendship TALKING (like any human being does)

- Anno says byebye (proceeds to think of 14 years past prequel, it makes money so I guess)

- Anno says grow up, proceeds to slap the fans in the face that you should stop using escapism as a coping mechanism in a world that makes you feel miserable and being in constant pressure to uphold a stupid image and start to live even though you're forced to work as much as possible with makes living hard af (I dotn know if you understand what I was trying to tell with this but if you do *Finger guns*)

- Give me the uncut version in a year or I riot

Thanks.

[lepusrufus]

Double edged scalpel ch. 8

Ch.1 Ch.2 Ch.3 Ch.4 Ch.5 Ch.6 Ch.7

Summary: Fluff? Smut?? Stuff???

---

It was still early morning, if the bright light and faint chirping coming from out the window were anything to go by. Cassandra had been awake for a while, her body not needing nearly as much sleep as humans did.

She looked down to where Nicole's face was pressed on top of her chest, cheek slightly squished against the skin. Sleep had turned her features into soft lines, unlike her usual nonchalant façade that she wore like a crown. Though the dark circles under closed eyes were still present and, Cassandra mused, probably a permanent facial feature at this point.

The brunette couldn't help the small smile that curved her lips. She couldn't remember the last time someone had been in Nicole's position, so willing to let themselves be embraced by the shadows of the castle and wear the title of her "lover" with such grace. She wasn't even sure someone had been there before.

Though as endearing as the sight was, Cassandra was starting to get bored. Nicole's position half on top of her meant she couldn't really move without waking her up. How much sleep do humans need again? Eight hours? She was pretty sure it'd been eight hours. Besides, what harm would it do to stay and cuddle for a while, not that anyone other than the small redhead in her arms would ever be allowed to know about her apparent love for such things.

She hesitated for a second, the memory of Nicole jolting awake not too long ago making its way to the forefront of her mind. She would have to be more careful than Bela had been, opting for the gentlest way she could muster, fingers gingerly trailing down her cheek.

Cassandra frowned when the redhead flinched slightly at the touch, but soon let out a content hum upon hearing her name whispered by the brunette. Nicole didn't even bother opening her eyes. Instead, she nuzzled into Cassandra's neck and tightened her grip around her waist ever so slightly.

"Mmornin'," she said as if she actually had any intention of getting up.

"Slept well?" The brunette asked, shifting to lay on her side and starting to play with the long auburn locks sprawled on the pillows.

The reply she got was little more than a hum as her half asleep lover shifted and readjusted her position. Nicole's hand started to gingerly trace her spine upwards, then down again, on her waist and then stilled for a moment. She finally opened her eyes and looked somewhere past the brunette locks blocking her view. The arm on Cassandra's waist was removed and stretched towards the nightstand for a few seconds only to fall back on the bed accompanied by a soft groan.

"Can you pass me my phone…" Curse you, short arms.

To her dismay, Cassandra started to laugh at her struggle, earning herself a sleepy glare. She did oblige though, turning slightly and picking up the small object from the nightstand. With the phone finally in hand, Nicole unlocked it and let out another groan at the hour.

"It's so fucking early."

"It's 8 a.m." Cassandra raised an eyebrow when the redhead simply tossed the small object on the bed, probably never to be found again given it's sheer size, and turned back in her arms with an almost childish whine.

Nicole really wasn't a woman of many words in the morning.

"Why'd you wake me up so early?"

"I was bored," Cassandra answered simply.

Of course.

After another small groan, Cassandra decided to change tactics. Her hand moved from red hair down Nicole's bare back. She felt her breath hitch when she got to her hip, slender fingers going in ever so soft circles over the skin and the fabric of her underwear.

That seemed to wake the redhead up at least slightly. Her lips started to lazily move across collarbones, leaving a trail of kisses and an occasional nip. Then up her neck, hand now tangled in dark hair and giving it a light tug to tilt Cassandra's head and get better access to the spot right under her ear. She left a light bite there and the brunette let out a small moan, hand now fully gripping Nicole's hip and pulling her closer.

Cassandra's thigh, now placed between her legs just right, was hard to ignore but Nicole was a woman on a mission. She shifted her weight, now fully straddling the brunette and continued her trail of kisses along her jaw until she finally reached soft lips. Cassandra moaned in their kiss when Nicole's fingers came to rest around her neck, giving it a faint squeeze. She slipped her tongue past slightly parted lips and her other hand started to slowly trail lower.

The sense of satisfaction she got from Cassandra's impatient whine was hard to describe. Revenge for getting woken up so early.

"Just touch me already," Cassandra broke their kiss momentarily, and the redhead decided to be at least a little lenient.

She shifted her hips, giving way for her hand to wander beyond black lacy underwear. One finger started to circle her already wet entrance ever so lightly, causing Cassandra to buck her hips impatiently.

"Nico- ah!"

Her complaint was cut short by two of Nicole's fingers entering her. Cassandra squeezed her eyes shut and bit her lip, stifling a moan.

The rhythm of her fingers was slow at first, enough to elicit a few more groans from the brunete, but her pace steadily increased. It wasn't long before Cassandra was grabbing at the sheets, not trusting her claws on Nicole's back anymore, and trying to clench her thighs together.

Nicole kissed along her neck as she came, the pace of her fingers slowing until Cassandra relaxed under her. Then, she pulled her hand away and sat back down on the soft sheets, taking in the view of her lover trying to catch her breath. When golden eyes finally fluttered open and looked up at her, Nicole grinned.

"Thought you didn't need to breathe."

"Do not get cocky with me." To her credit, Cassandra tried to glare, but her eyes were soft and lips turned into a small smile.

Sweet revenge. Although, Nicole mused, if Cassandra woke her up this early again she'd make her beg.

"I think we should start getting ready."

They still had a few hours to spare, but being early never hurt anyone. Cassandra seemed to have other plans though, as she placed a hand around Nicole's throat and pushed her down into the pillows.

It was Cassandra's turn to straddle her hips, her much taller frame giving the impression that she was a predator ready to sink its teeth into a meal. Paired with the devilish glint in her eyes when she leaned down to whisper against Nicole's lips, it was all too hot.

"And not return the favor? Who do you take me for hmm?"

So much for revenge.

---

Arranging tools next to the autopsy table has always been oddly relaxing. Repetition and the soft clinking of metal against metal when the scalpels were placed in their place. The leather gloves as she slid them on her hands. The apron that was waiting to be put on. All a comforting routine.

With some time to spare, she went to stand behind Cassandra, who was scribbling something in one of the many notebooks she had around. Many, Nicole had learned, as opposed to just one that magically appeared everywhere. She looked over her shoulders to see what she was writing and frowned.

She had one of the textbooks from Nicole in front of her and seemed to be correcting old notes from god knows how many years ago. Notes in german.

"Do you… speak german?" Nicole inquired. She wasn't necessarily surprised but it was weird it had never come up.

The brunette only let out an mhm and finished scratching out something, replacing it with the information from the book. In english. "And french, italian, hungarian, and some russian. My russian's really rusty though, been a long time since it was in use around here."

Okay. Impressive. Nicole supposed that being immortal does come with benefits such as infinite time to learn different languages. Cassandra let out a chuckle at her surprised look.

Then she checked the hour and snapped the notebook shut. Showtime.

Clank

They both froze.

Their eyes darted to the door, left slightly ajar.

Clank

"You… heard that right?" Nicole's question was so low, it would've probably gone unheard if not for sensitive vampiric ears.

"Loud and clear. Stay here."

And she should have really. Cassandra was strong and could take care of herself. Whatever was making noise was probably a bored prisoner wanting to quicken their demise.

But the sinking feeling in her gut gave her no peace. Whether it was worry for Cassandra, the fear that crept up her spine at being left alone, or a mix of both was anyone's guess.

She grabbed one of the scalpels from the tray.

It gave her a false sense of security as she slipped through the door and down the dark corridor connecting the study to the cells.

One of the perks of being small? You can hide almost anywhere. And this was no exception. The shadows hid her well while she stepped for the first time past old cells. Some run down, some full of devices not unlike the ones in the room she had just exited.

She could hear a growl up ahead and came to the realization that it belonged to Cassandra. She was frustrated at something and Nicole wondered if being there was really a good idea. Most likely not. But she came all the way there, might as well see what got the brunette so upset.

She started walking towards the sound of heels against stone and was about to call out Cassandra's name when a shadow caught her eye. She froze.

From where she was, still enveloped by darkness, she saw something peeking around a corner at her lover, but it's back almost completely turned to her. Someone, she realized as she strained her eyes to take in more details. A man, no taller than Cassandra, ragged clothing and something shiny in hand.

Panic took over when she realized that shine came from the reflective barrel of a gun, half in position and ready to shoot. Shoot at Cassandra.

She sprung forward, stealth be damned with how loud her boots sounded against the stone underfoot. The sound alerted Cassandra, who turned in her direction wide eyed. It also alerted the man, who spinned on his heels and let out a choked scream that seemed to ring in her ears.

The sound died in his throat when the scalpel was plunged in his neck, through the trachea and whatever other veins and arteries the blade found in its path. He leaned back against the wall, disgusting gurgling sounds making their way past bloody lips.

"Nicole!" Cassandra was by her side in the span of a second. She wanted to turn to her but instead she stumbled forward, almost crashing into her arms.

Something was wrong.

Adrenaline was finally starting to leave her body and instead searing pain was making its way in her muscles. Her head was starting to spin but she managed to look down only to see a crimson stain on her abdomen. An ugly contrast with her white uniform, really.

Her ears were ringing, but she faintly registered Cassandra let a long string of curses spill past her lips.

Then she was picked up, the wound in her abdomen sending jolts of pain with every hasty movement. She couldn’t help crying out when Cassandra presumably reached the dungeon steps and started ascending.

Staying awake was becoming an increasingly hard task. No matter how much she tried to keep her eyes open, it resulted fruitless as black splotches were starting to obscure her vision.

She finally let her lids shut, her head slumping against Cassandra's shoulder as nothingness started to envelop her foggy mind.

[vibraniumwing]

true love

a sam wilson x fem!reader soulmate au wherein you can hear the thoughts of your soulmate at random points of the day.

WARNING: slight au (?), agent!assassin!y/n, occasional swearing, y/n and sam bickering during missions and typical canon-violence (kind of mellowed down), y/n and sam being frenemies (well more on them being childish while bickering), and sexual innuendos/jokes. (18+ please. MINORS DNI.) also not beta-read so all mistakes are mine !!

A/N: listened to pink’s true love as i plotted this so feels are in order. this soulmate au has you listening to the thoughts of your soulmate at random points of the day until a mutual connection of attraction has been made, which makes you freely converse with your soulmate through your thoughts. ALSO SAM IN A TURTLENECK AKDJFDSJF AWOOGA

word count: 2.7k

---

You initially had thought that you had no soulmate since you hadn’t heard from them; not even once. Until one night, while you were doing your skincare routine, you heard your soulmate’s rather explicit thoughts about another person.

Safe to say it left you hot and bothered until you went to bed (and now aware about how you should be more careful about spacing out while thinking of something rated.), rather hurt as well at the fact that they were thinking of another person’s body other than yours.

Sam on the other hand, has heard from his partner as he would like to call it a few times. The first time being rather entertaining and concerning as he heard them curse out a random person, wishing hellfire on their whole existence as this person “annoyed the living will out of them.” which made him chuckle as he soared through the sky during one of his missions.

---

You were flying back to the Avenger’s Compound after another mission, seeing everyone’s silent and probably as exhausted as you from another fight. You were seated in the back, slowly drifting off to sleep when your soulmate’s thoughts suddenly infiltrated your mind, “Man, she looks cute as well when she’s sleepy. She’s equally as sexy when she’s angry… Her lips are so fucking kissable, wonder how well that works in the be-”

“NO!” you suddenly jolted awake, making everyone in the Quinjet look at you with concern. Steve was the first one to speak, glancing back at you with concern. “Are you okay over there, Y/N?”

You groaned, feeling a headache forming from being bolted awake. “I-I’m fine. It’s just my soulmate. That son of a bitch is so horny.” You muttered, putting your hands over your eyes as you sighed in frustration. “They’re gawking over another person and I get to hear about it.” You continued, making a few of the heroes you’re with snicker at your demise.

“Sounds like fun if you ask me.” Sam was the first to speak up, looking at you with a shit-eating grin. “You’ll have the upper hand knowing their kinks.” He mused, relaxing in his chair as he wiggled his eyebrows, probably enjoying the way you were suffering.

You smiled at him sarcastically, scrunching your nose in the process before rolling your eyes at him and flipping him off. “Woah! Steve, she did a bad language sign!” Sam called out, making the others laugh even more and the Captain groan at the reminder of his old antics.

“Shut it, Wilson. Not everyone likes to hear their soulmates intrusive thoughts.” You countered, raising up your other hand to flip him off again, not caring if you would be called out by Steve who was sighing again. “I swear once I meet this person, I’m kicking them where the sun don’t shine for being so fucking horny all the time.”

---

Sam had just finished his daily laps around the compound, headphones plugged in as he listened to Michael Jackson’s Billie Jean as walked back inside of the compound, head bobbing to the beat; doing a little dance as well since he was in a rather good mood. “What’s good Metal Man” he greeted Bucky, giving the soldier a quick nod which the other looked at him with bewilderment.

He wandered into the kitchen, not paying attention to your figure that was seated by one of the island stools, busy scrolling away on your phone. Sam grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and took a big swig of the cool liquid, parched as ever from the heat when he heard his soulmate speak out all of a sudden.

“Why the fuck does this say The Falcon doesn’t look handsome? He’s a fucking sex god if I’ve ever seen one.” Those words were enough to make him choke on his drink, dropping the bottle on the floor as he coughed out the water from the wrong pipe. This made you jolt in your seat and look at him in concern. “What’s wrong with you?”

He shook it off, tapping his chest to sooth the subtle burn from what happened moments ago. He still managed to smirk at you, cocking up an eyebrow. “Concerned about me, are you baby?” before straightening up. “I just got started from what my soulmate said.”

You pride yourself in having the patience of a saint when it comes to people but something about Sam Wilson and his ego just irks you to the core. His words made you scoff in disgust, making a face at him as you hopped off from the stool and grabbed the donut you were eating, “I would rather have Bucky’s cold metal arm wrapped around my neck than be concerned about you.” You retorted, mumbling something incoherent as you passed by the said super soldier who looked confused once more.

“What the hell did I do?” He asked, looking at Sam for answers but was left with no answers as he left to go find a mop to clean up the spilled drink on the floor.

---

You wanted to curse the person who thought it was a bright idea to pair you up with Sam for a mission. You didn’t know if the person had a personal vendetta against you or just found entertainment in the constant fights that you had with the male but you weren’t having any of it.

The two of you were tasked to retrieve an artifact which contained a lot of sensitive information that was stolen by a former S.H.I.E.L.D employee-turned-felon and planned to release it to the world which can cause more harm than good for everyone; with the exception of criminals who target the population.

You and Sam were undercover, sitting in the corner of the busy cafe located in Soho where intel located the former agent who was meeting with someone who’s a stepping stone in releasing the files. Shifting in your seat as your eyes watched him, you took a drink of your iced latte, feeling uneasy under your companion’s stare. “What the fuck is your problem, Wilson?”

He shrugged, leaning into his own chair, “If you keep on staring you’ll blow our cover.” His tone was careful despite saying so loud, glancing at the direction of where you were looking at, seeing the agent on the phone before looking back at you. “Redwing is ready if he ever runs away, L/N.”

This made you roll your eyes, “I hate that damn machine.” You muttered, sinking into your seat as you sipped on your coffee even more.

Your stakeout was going rather well until the guy you were watching stood up, making you and Sam follow, pursuing him in the busy streets of New York. The person must’ve sensed someone following him since he started to make a run for it. “Fuck.” You muttered quietly, also starting to run, getting a headstart from Sam who commanded Redwing to follow the guy.

He slid into an alleyway and you followed him, only to be met with a gun pointed to your head. “Move and I won’t hesitate to blow your brains.” He threatened, finger on the trigger. It would be a lie to say that this didn’t bring back your memories of harsh training with actual guns pointed at your head; it caused your heartbeat to move at a much more erratic pace.

You tried to look for Sam through your peripheral view but to now avail, that is until someone suddenly shouted, “Redwing! NOW!” which caught the ex-agent off guard as he turned around, giving you the opportunity to tackle him to the ground. “Better luck next time.” You chided, holding him in place as Sam re-emerged from the other side of the alley, looking rather impressed.

“Not too shabby, Y/N.” He says, a smirk resting on his lips as he got the agent from you, pushing him against the wall to keep in place firmly. You bowed playfully, brushing your hands against your pants as you mirrored the smirk on his lips. “Couldn’t say the same for you though.” You humored, readjusting your shirt as you watched Sam turn in the then man.

He scoffed at your statement, feigning offense. “Excuse me, but without Redwing over here, you would have your brains out on the street.” He answered, motioning to the gadget flying above your head doing small little wiggles.

You rolled your eyes, starting to walk away from him. “You know you needed him, Y/N!” He hollered out, making you shake your head and laugh softly to yourself. You brought up your right hand to show him your middle finger once again, looking back at him with a small smile. “You wish, Wilson!”

“If you weren’t such an asshole Sam, I would’ve kissed you right now. But knowing your ego, it’s best to leave you hanging.”

That sentence alone left him shocked in his place, realizing who his soulmate was.

---

The rest of the day was quiet for you, which was quite the shocker; you hadn’t heard from Sam, not even a single “what’s up, short stuff.” If anything, you had come up to the idea that he was avoiding you like the plague. Despite the peace and quiet it provided, you missed your banters with him dar too much.

You were inside the gym, focusing your energy on throwing punches on the punching bag as your mind was shrouded with the thought of Sam suddenly avoiding you. Had you been too harsh on him? Did you actually offend him this time? You shook it off, Sam and you had literally gone through hell and back, talked so much trash about each other but never got angry; not even once. So what was his deal?

Sam suddenly re-emerged from behind you, clad in a tight-fitting shirt and some shorts, probably on his way to work out. He was still silent, which annoyed you even more, he didn’t even spare you a glance as he made a beeline for the weights. This made you roll your eyes, punching the gym equipment a bit harder out of aggression.

“If you keep that up, you might break the punching bag again.” He finally spoke up, looking at you with a blank expression as he yielded the dumbbell, flexing his arms. Your eyes travelled down to his muscles that were defined through his shirt before looking back up to meet his gaze, huffing lightly before turning away. If he wanted to be silent with you, then so be it.

“Oh c’mon now. Don’t ignore me, you literally just checked me out!” Sam pressed on, his tone now filled with mischief; he caught you and you were pretty sure he won’t let it down until you give him the attention that he wants.

But you won’t give him the satisfaction, not just yet. You were dying on the inside, wanting to just go back to the playful fights you have but your pride was at unrest. You want to see him go to an extent just to grab your attention again.

He shook his head in annoyance, mumbling something rather incoherent as he silenced himself, succumbing to your games.

Quietness enveloped the room, the only thing that could be heard was the heavy breathing from the exercises the two of you were doing. Moving from the punching bag to the treadmill, you plugged in your earphones as you listened to some tunes to entertain yourself; you’ve never heard silence quite this loud until you and Sam had completely disregarded each other’s presence.

“Oh my god, Y/N. If you weren’t so stubborn I would’ve told you that you’re my soulmate and pinned you against the wall already.”

Sam’s voice infiltrated your mind, obviously startling you, making you lose your control and twist your ankle which resulted with you falling down on the treadmill before sliding down to the floor. You groaned softly, holding on to your ankle as you winced in pain.

Sam on the other hand was quick to drop the free weight equipment he was using and ran to your side, face filled with concern. “Hey, you alright? What happened?” He questioned, hand carefully holding your achilles as he elevated it, checking for any signs of wounds.

You shook your head, refusing to believe that he was your soulmate. Goosebumps ran along your skin at his simple touch, now realizing the effect he has on you. Huffing lightly, he placed back down on the floor as he got up, dusting off his hands. “I’ll go get the first aid kit. I think you might have sprained your ankle from that fall.”

Sighing softly, you had no other choice but to let him do the work. He walked back to you and quietly worked on your ankle, gently pressing the ice to your ankle to contain its swelling, making you let out a hiss from the pain. “Don’t go biting me.” He humored, making laugh softly and rolled your eyes.

Seeing how close he was, you silently admired how his brows were furrowed in focus as he wrapped the bandage around your foot and ankle, how the sweat that littered his skin glistened in the bright light of the gym, and how hands light and gentle as he handled you which gave the butterflies at the pit of your stomach do flips.

You weren’t sure if you were able to speak with him freely through your thoughts, fearing that the attraction you had with him wasn’t mutual but you took a deep breath in, focusing your remaining energy to try and communicate with him. “Sam.”

He looked at you, “Yes?” which made you break out into a big smile, punching him lightly on the shoulder. His face of concern morphed into one of annoyance, “Hey! I’m here helping you out with your sprained ankle and you repay my kind actions by punching me on the shoulder?”

“Idiot, I didn’t even speak out loud.” You told him, catching him off-guard. You laughed softly at his surprised expression, probably not expecting that you would realize right away that you were each other’s soulmate. A smirk of triumph now adorned your lips as you wiggled your eyebrows at him, taking the opportunity to tease him even more. “Cat’s got your tongue?”

Sam chuckled, putting your foot on his thigh as he sat down on the floor, “As if I haven’t heard the incriminating thoughts that go through your mind.” He rebutted, looking around the room before meeting your gaze, a small smile adorning your lips. “You’re stuck with me now, I have the right to fully annoy you now.”

You sighed dramatically, laying on the cool floor. “What did I do in my past life to deserve this?” You playfully whined, covering your face with your hands which Sam was quick to uncover, now that he was hovering over you as he gently leaned in. “Please, I know you want me too.”

His voice deepened as it got softer, his body above yours as he spoke again, “You just didn’t know how much I wanted you too.” Normally Sam would be energetic and loud around you, to irk you beneath your skin, so seeing him so soft and gentle with you was making your brain go haywire. It was a side of you you haven’t seen yet.

Given the close proximity between the both of you, you could feel his warm breath fan out on your skin, effectively making your skin feel more flushed as it is. “How about you get a kiss from this sex god then, hm?” He managed to crack a joke, lips forming a smile as he casted a brief glance down to your lips.

You hit his shoulder, scrunching up your nose. “I can’t believe you heard my thoughts about that一 but who cares, kiss me.” And soon enough, his lips were on yours in a soft liplock. It was slow and gentle, his lips molded perfectly with yours as it portrayed the pent up emotions the both of you have been pining for each other.

The kiss had now upscaled into a much more passionate one, with his lower half playfully grinding down on you, effectively making you release a small moan which Sam took as an opportunity to let his tongue inside the wet cavern, asserting his dominance against you until

“Woah what the fuck!” was heard across the room, making you push Sam off from you as the both of you whipped your head to the door to see Bucky standing with wide eyes.

“I knew your sexual tension was high up in the air but can’t you guys fuck somewhere else?!”

---

TAGLIST: @lunalovecroft @gcdricreads @darthwheezely (fellow falcon simp, i just had to tag you)

[phantomphangphucker]

Phic Phight - The Weird Little Shit

For: @darks-ink

A class discussion held by Wes about Danny’s weirdness was never not going to be an absolute cluster fuck

Wes smacks the board, “alright, fuckers, thank you for coming-”.

“We’re only here because we lost a bet”.

“Shut up, Dash. You shouldn’t have to be strong-armed into learning the truth”. Everyone rolls their eyes at Wes pretty actively. “Anyway, since you all refuse to see or even listen to the truth of what Danny Fenton is. Instead, this. Weird shit about Danny Fenton one oh one”.

Dash snorts, “now this I can get behind, little shit weighs, like, ten pounds or some shit”. Wes points at him aggressively, “exactly”. Scribbling down ‘weighs less than a sack of potatoes' on the board. Star throwing in her two cents, “yeah and I’ve seen Sam just pick him up under her arm and run off”.

Brittney smacks her desk, “half the time he makes food directly in home ec it’s fucking cold, which ew, but also really weird”.

“Oh yeah he does that with his drinks too. He whole ass ‘drank’ a solid chunk of ice, major power move honestly”.

“And remember that snowball fight? I don’t think he ever actually made any snowballs, he just kept acquiring them”.

“Kid made for a great air conditioner when all the windows got stuck shut though; guy runs cold as fuck”.

Wes is just aggressively scribbling more down with a mildly manic grin.

“We should totally invite him to parties so he can keep the fucking beer cold”.

Dash laughs loudly and smacks Dale on the arm, “now there’s an idea!”, deadpanning, “still not inviting freaky Fenton though”. Dale chuckles very awkwardly.

“Well he’s an ice sculptor so that’s not surprising”.

“What the fuck do you mean ‘ice sculptor’? He clearly lifts weights in his spare time”.

“Oh yeah, he lowkey picked up the back end of my car once”.

“James, your car is a tiny little piece of shit. I could lift that damn thing”.

“Hey”.

“Anyway. Like I was saying, people who handle cold shit all the time, you know, like ice sculptors, usually have cold hands”.

“He lifts weights! Not ice sculpts!”.

“Here I though he was a painter”.

“Why the fuck would he be doing that?”.

“Well he’s always randomly splattered in green paint”.

Basically everyone pauses to look at Hanna. Kwan blinking, “the green is ectoplasm, duh”. Emilie shrugging and nodding, “everyone knows that”.

“Well I thought it was paint”.

“Well you’re clearly stupid”.

“Shut up”.

Dash waves everyone off, “so clearly not a painter or weight lifter, because have you seen his goddamn noodle arms?”.

“He lifts weights!”.

“No he doesn’t!”.

“Who cares! Have you seen his dad? Of course he’s a strong little shit! What really gets me is him getting out of locked rooms”.

“Oh he whole ass climbs out windows and shit”.

“All that ecto that gets on his skin makes his hands all sticky, hence why he can climb the side of buildings”.

“When the heck did you see him doing that?”.

“Oh I totally saw him showing off knife swallowing to some elementary kids”.

“I think he hangs out and does drugs or some shit on the roof”.

“So he climbs up the school building to do drugs? Why wouldn’t he just use the hidden steps like a normal person?”,

“I’m pretty sure the kitchen staff actually include him in their budget for missing utensils cause he eats so many of them”.

“Julie, no one’s saying Danny’s close to normal. Also kids got an iron stomach damn”.

Dash has to jump in there, “I totally made him eat my underwear once”. Earning him a round of judging glances. “What? I didn’t expect him to actually do it. I was planning to mock him for pussying out. But then the little fucker went and did it”.

“Power move”.

“Shut up”.

“You fed your underwear to a guy who builds guns?”.

“Excuse me but what?”.

“Maybe him doing so much dangerous shit is why his heartbeats all slow and stuff”.

“Again, excuse?”.

“Well we totally tested everyone’s heart rates and breathing and shit and he’s super low. He blamed his corn supper”.

“That’s stupid”.

“His corn supper had teeth, Todd”.

“Back to the gun making because what?”.

“FentonWorks is a weapon company what do you expect?”.

“James, he made a shotgun out of a pencil, two toothpicks, an elastic band, and a snapped in half penny. The thing was magically welded together”.

“You can’t weld a fucking pencil. It’s wood, moron”.

“Well it was goddamn wielded”.

Wes grumbles, “yeah he welded my binder zipper together once, stupid pyrokinesis”. Star glares at him, “I thought this wasn’t about your crazy conspiracy crap?”. Wes glares at her like she’s stupid.

“Ignoring Wes being crazy again. You guys do know he has laser beam lipstick right? He could totally weld stuff with that”.

“Didn’t he have a tail that one day?”.

“Huh?”.

“That lipstick of his is the plasma peach one right? Because girl I so need some, it makes amazing blush”.

“Oh no a dog just crawled under his shirt. I think he was trying to hide the treats or some shit?”.

“Fucking where? in his shoulder blades?!?”.

“Oh my god that’s right, he can totally pop all his joints out so probably yeah”.

“Since when could he do that? Better yet, why? Fucking ow”.

“His fingers also glow green when he cracks them”.

“Right Right I remember that! We also got him under a black light, totally wild”.

“I wish I could pop out my joints randomly”.

“He probably just eats glow sticks and they leaked into his joints and shit”.

“THAT MAKES NO SENSE”.

“Who cares, take him to a rave”.

“Oh my god yes he does amazing makeup”.

“Wait Fenton does makeup now too?”.

Wes points at Dash, “he’s got to cover up the dead parlour to his skin somehow”. With half the class shouting, “HE’S NOT DEAD”.

Emilie pursing her lips, “but what if he was, that would be hot”.

“EXCUSE ME!?!”.

“Oh get off your vanilla basic bitch high horse, Karen”.

Wes rubs his forehead, “not this shit again”. Smacking the board, “weird shit about Fenton, people! Not y’alls weird necrophilia fetish!”.

“Hey that’s just Emilie”.

Jesse looks genuinely offended, “bitch what? Have you seen a ghost? That glow? Mmmmmh yeah, daddy”.

Star chokes, “oh my god. I love our town”.

Wes sighs, “I should just start blocking you people from seeing ghosts at all. Cover those eyes until you stop BEING FUCKING BLIND”.

“Eyes never stop seeing, they just get covered”.

“NO! NO! BAD!“.

“That weirdly reminds me that Danny can totally walk with his eyes closed”.

“That’s weird how?”.

“How ‘bout you fucking try it then!”.

Dash shrugs, “well his eyes go glowy green all the time so no surprise he can just see through his eyelids”. More than a few people look to him, “why did you not add that to the weird list?”.

“Because it’s not weird”.

“Dash... do you know anyone with goddamn glowing eyes... besides ghosts”.

“Uhhh the entire Defect Quartet”.

“Excuse?!?”.

“Honestly him biting open pop-cans is weirder”.

“Oh god yeah, that’s horrible to hear”.

“He dead ass cut his lip up once doing that and just... kept doing it. There was blood all over his neck”.

“Why the heck didn’t anyone take an edgy aesthetic photo of that? Goddamn”.

“I feel like this is more an off-the-books class on discovering that Danny might actually be hot”.

“You wanna say Fenton’s hot again? I’ll goddamn choke you, motherfucker”.

“Do it you fake ass bear dom”.

A couple of people shuffle out of their desks and away when Dash actually throws a punch at Jasper.

“On a side note, once saw Danny sleeping in a trash can”.

“How is that weird”.

“How isn’t it? It’s a trashcan”.

“And he’s trash, your point”.

“YOU'RE GONNA HAVETA HIT HARDER IF YOU WANT TO MAKE AN IMPRESSION ON YOUR TWINK BOY! HE’S DURABLE AS FUCK!”.

“FUCK YOU!!!”.

“Huh, he did survive falling from the ceiling multiple times and that drowning once”.

“Fucker wasn’t drowned, he can breathe underwater”.

“Excuse me?”.

“WHAT IS GOING ON HERE!?!”.

Dash snapping his head around, “IM TEACHING HIM A LESSON!”. Jasper just smirks, “I DON’T NEED BREATH PLAY TIPS FROM YOU!”. Dash tries punching him again.

“This is ridiculous, I mean really, Danny would be the dom”. That silenced the entire room.

“What?”.

“Come on, he ate Skulker once ‘cause the guy was coping him an attitude”.

“DANNY EATS GHOSTS?!?”.

Wes turns around and slams his head on the board, “God fuck this is such a cluster fuck”.

“You’re hosting this and holding us hostage here”.

“YOU’RE NOT MY HOSTAGES! YALL LOST A BET!”.

“Oh suck my toes”.

“WHAT?!”.

“While Wes loses his mind for the fifth time this week, what we’ve got is he’s icy as shit, likes welding and makeup and ice sculptures and weight lifting, weighs fuck all, just vores goddamn everything, and climbs shit weirdly well?”.

“You’re forgetting all the glow shit”.

“HA! Glowing shit”.

“Fuck Todd, you are a dumbass”.

“IN SHORT LOCAL ELDRITCH TEEN BUT HE’S STILL NOT A GODDAMN GHOST WES!”

“FUCK YOU! IT’S SO GODDAMN OBVIOUS HOW ARE YOU PEOPLE LIKE THIS OHMYGOD!”.

Just then Danny Fenton opens up the door, the class going dead silent while he glances around slowly. Him looking to the whiteboard, then slowly back to his fellow teens, speaking “Oh no. Oh no. Oh no, no, no, no, no”, while slowly backing out and closing the door.

At first, no one says anything before Star snickers, “pffft”; the entire classroom bursting out into laughter directly afterwards.

Wes turning around and smacking his head on the board once again, “why. Just. Why me”.

END.

Prompt: Wacky reveals (ex: Danny drying up too quickly bc intangibility, Danny's drink stays cool way too long, people's electronic devices are always more charged when they've been near Danny, etc)

[blackmissfrizzle]

Just Right (3)

Part 2

Characters: Angel Reyes x black!plussized!reader

Chapter Summary: Someone throws a wrench in the plans.

Chapter Warning: Footbal AU. Don’t hate me please 😬 angst, implied smut, and some very petty behavior.

If you want to read more here’s my masterlist and you want to be notified when I post here’s my taglist

Divider credit: @firefly-graphics

The next morning, you had a pep in your step. Angel left you in bed with breakfast and a note saying he went on a run.

Coming downstairs you heard Angel’s voice, you assumed he was on the phone and not talking to the devil herself.

“Adelita, this is a surprise.” Angel backed away from her when he heard your voice.

“Y/N,” she smiled and pulled you into a hug. Backing away she twirled your hair around your finger. “I see the drought is over. Who’s the lucky guy?” If Adelita wasn’t so damn conceited she would’ve smelled Angel on you. But of course, you wouldn’t be able to bag a guy like Angel.

Angel cleared his throat and stepped in between the two of you, grabbing onto Adelita’s hips. “Uhh, let’s leave Y/N alone. I’m sure she’s not the kiss and tell type.”

“Not around you.” She joked, patting Angel’s chest. “Once we’re done talking me and you can have some girl talk like old times. Just you’ll be the one sharing stories this time.”

The nerve. This is the second time in your life that you wanted to knock Adelita out. “Yeah sure.” You gave her a tight smile over your shoulder and went back to your room.

While walking you could hear the hushed whispers and the sounds of lips kissing. As soon as you knew you were out of sight you ran to your room and immediately started packing.

“What are you doing?” Right after Adelita left, Angel ran to you. “What does it look like Angel?”

Tugging your pants out of your hands, Angel stopped you. “You don’t have to leave.”

“And what?!” You screamed in his face. “Stay here with you and Adelita?!”

He tried to hug you, but you pushed him away. “You really must be crazy. How are you just gonna take her back?”

“She was my fiancée, she deserves the benefit of the doubt.” Angel explained like it was a one size fits all reason.

“Oh, the same fiancée that dumped you once your future was unsure.” You scrunched your face up. “The same fiancée that told you it was over through a letter? The same fiancée that was all over social media hanging out and partying while you were in rehab? The same fiancée that so happens to ‘coincidentally’ come back into your life after you just made the biggest comeback ever?” You brushed past him went out the door. “Yeah, you can miss me with that bullshit.”

Angel trailed behind you, hoping he could amend things with you. “Y/N, I’m sorry.”

Whipping around you shoved him. “Yeah, you are. You know honestly, I don’t feel bad for myself as much as I do for you. I pray to God that he never makes me as pathetic as you. Have a nice life, Angel Reyes.”

Opening the front door revealed a sympathetic Mr. Felipe and an angry EZ. They both tried to stop you, but you kissed each man goodbye promising to keep in touch.

EZ waited until he saw you drive away to attack his brother. “What the fuck did you do?” Angel blocked some of his brother’s punches, but EZ managed to get some in.

Felipe was able to pull his youngest off his eldest. “EZ that’s enough!”

“Nah, Pop! You saw her. She practically ran out in tears.”

“It’s none of your damn business, Ezekiel!” Angel tried to walk away from them, but Felipe stopped him. “Explain yourself, son.”

“Adelita.” Both his father and brother groaned at that name. Now they knew why you ran out like that.

EZ didn’t have time for whatever excuse that his brother had. “You two deserve each other. And I hope when you come to your senses it’s too late.” He slammed the door on the way out, too disgusted with Angel to stay.

A few moments later Felipe followed his son out. “Pop,” Angel cried out, hoping to gain some sort of sympathy. “Not right now, Angel.” He stopped at the door and looked back at his son. “Unlike your brother I hope it won’t be too late for you to come to your senses. When you stick your head out of your ass, you and Y/N are perfect for each other.”

Once he was alone, Angel sat on the staircase wondering if he made the right decision.

Losing Angel just wasn’t about your heart breaking, but also losing your best friend. Those months spent with him was probably the best time of your life. The only thing that got you through the days were work and Rio.

At first, he assured you that he could just be your friend but someway somehow, he wormed his way into something more. You told him that you didn’t want him as some rebound, but he cockily said, “Ain’t no way I’m a rebound.” So, you stayed and started dating him.

You were reading a book when Rio came and laid his head in your lap. “Mamaaaa,” he sung kissing the little bit of your exposed fupa. “What do you want?” He was only this adorable when he wanted something like that extra cookie that would mess up his diet. “Nothing extra. Just go to dinner with me.”

“That’s it?” You closed your book and set it down to look at him curiously. “Yeah, I got a dress picked out, hairstylist and makeup artist on the way.”

“Wait, what kind of dinner is this?” Dinners with Rio never required all the hoopla. “The league always hosts a dinner for all the teams in the semifinals.”

“I know, I know, I know,” Rio trampled over your words, not letting you get a word in. “I know that dumbass is gonna be there, but I think it would be the perfect place to show him what he’s missing out on.”

If you went this would be the first time you saw Angel and you weren’t sure if you were ready for that. Last time he made you look like a fool. “I don’t know Rio.”

Sitting up, Rio picked you up and sat you down in your lap. “But mama,” he attacked your neck with his lips, adding a little bite every now and then. “I’ll be bored without you. And who am I gonna shove in a closet and fuck her like a dirty girl?”

“You’ll be fine without me for a couple of hours.”

“Alright, time for the big guns.” Rio led you to his bedroom with a covered mannequin in the center. Unveiling the mannequin, he revealed the most beautiful dress. You would be crazy to not wear that dress.

“Ok, I’ll go!” Rio pulled you by your hips against him. “Good, I thought I would have to use my other negotiation methods.”

“Nah, I still need convincing.” Rio backed you into the bed and pulled off your shorts. “Okay, but you got 15 minutes to cum two times before the stylist gets here.”

Angel was doing his best at trying to keep his cool. Adelita was making her way through all the owners, sponsors, and players ‘networking’ to gain traction for her cause. It wasn’t that he didn’t support, actually he was very supportive of it, but this night was in celebration of him and the other players. And he couldn’t ask her to quit it without looking like a complete douchebag.

“Are you two seriously making bets?” Angel wasn’t paying that much attention to Coco and Gilly until they said Adelita’s name. They were betting on when she would corner their team owner, Miguel Galindo. “How else are we gonna pass the time? Ain’t like there’s scintillating conversation.” Coco collected money from Riz and put it in his breast pocket.

“Pendejo,” Angel ordered another drink and while waiting for it he heard Coco whistle. Turning around to see what made Coco speechless, Angel was glad that he already set his old glass on the bar top, because he would’ve dropped it. There you were in the most beautiful dress looking like a goddess, but his mood soured when he saw that it was Rio escorting you.

Bishop walked up beside him and smacked him in the back of the head. “Fucking dumbass. Now she’s with that asshole.” Angel opened his mouth to say something, but Bishop held up his hand. “I don’t wanna hear it. And you better leaver her alone, she looks happy.” His coach pointed his chin towards you and Rio kissing. Angel slammed back his drink and ordered another one. This was about to be a long night.

“I’m gonna go say hi to Bishop and the guys.” Rio looked for your friends and saw that Angel was right there next to them. “You sure? You want me to go with you?” It warmed your heart that Rio was so protective over you. It was unfamiliar territory for you. Usually, you were the one protecting others. “No, you stay here with your team, I’ll be okay.” Rio quirked his eyebrow, questioning you. He was trying to break you out of the habit of you masking your feelings, pretending you’re fine when you’re really not. “Rio, I promise. I’ll be good.” You patted his chest and started to walk away, but then he caught Angel staring at the two of you real hard and he couldn’t help but give him a show.

Spinning you around into his arms, Rio smashed his lips against yours. His still taste a little bit of yourself from when he wanted to make you his meal. Rio’s hands drifted to your ass and you did little to stop him. Ending the kiss, he tugged your bottom lip slowly releasing it and ending your connection. “Go say hi to your friends.” He whispered in your ear, fixing some of your lipstick that got under your lips.

Angel wanted to knock Rio the clean the fuck out. Who the fuck did he think he was practically dry humping you in public like that? “You better keep your mouth shut. You lost your privileges to be mad.” Coach Hank warned Angel as he saw you approach the group.

“Hey guys!” You were genuinely happy to see all of them. Since, you cut off contact with Angel you haven’t talked to any of them at all.

They all lined up to hug you, almost fighting each other to be the first one. But Angel waited his turn. He had a lot more to say than just hi.

It was a bit awkward at first. Neither one of you made the first move. Eventually, you threw yourself in his arms and you were almost a goner. You did not know that hugging him would bring back all those feelings you tried to bury deep down.

“You look beautiful.” He kept a hand around your wrist, his thumb stroking the inside of it. “Thank you.”

His eyes kept dipping to your dress. There were some cut out pieces revealing more skin than he cared for. “Where’s the rest of your dress?”

Snatching your wrist away, you crossed your arms over your chest to keep yourself from slapping the shit out of Angel. “Rio doesn’t seem to mind.”

Angel invaded your space and glared down at you. “Do I look like Rio?”

“Do I look like Adelita?”

Angel bit the inside of his cheek. He knew he had no reason to question you. You weren’t his, but damn it he wanted you to be.

“This was a mistake coming over here. Go back and talk to your fiancée.”

“She’s not my fiancée.”

Skrtt, you stopped your retreat. “Say what?”

“I said she’s not my fiancée.” Angel wasn’t able to explain further. Adelita finally came and graced you with her presence. She didn’t pay any attention to Angel. All her attention was on you. Adelita was actually pulling you away to talk to one of the other coaches about joining their staff.

This was almost as torturous as talking to Angel. Adelita barely let you get a word in. She was acting like she was your damn agent. Luckily, Rio came and saved the day.

“Where are we going?” You whispered as he pulled you into the hallway. “Don’t worry about it.” He jiggled each door until he found an unlocked door and pushed you through.

“Rio no,” you weakly protested clutching onto his tux. “What? You don’t wanna give daddy a little something something?” He pouted, knowing it was your weakness.

“Okay, but it has to be fast.” Rio kissed you some more knowing how turned you got by simply making out.

Due to your combined breaths getting heavier neither one of you heard the turning of the doorknob. It wasn’t until the light from the hallway shone on you and Rio, exposing your dirty deed.

“Oh shit, my bad dawg!” Angel lifted his head from Adelita’s neck and apologized to the other couple. He didn’t mean it all. Angel saw Rio lead you to the hallway and by the mischievous look he had on his face, he knew his opponent was up to no good.

The little smirk on Angel’s face told you that none of it was an accident. “It’s okay, I wasn’t feeling well anyway. I think we should go home.” You smirked back at Angel. He wasn’t the only one that can play games.

“C’mon Angel, they need to get home.” Adelita winked at you and led an unwilling Angel back to the party.

You were almost out until you got stopped by Mr. Galindo. He was the only team owner you hadn’t talked to that night.

With Miguel Galindo trying to convince you to join his staff and Adelita standing next to you patiently waiting for her chance, Angel and Rio were left alone with each other.

“I don’t know what you’re doing, but stay the fuck away from Y/N. You’re no good for her.” Angel had to refrain from snatching up Rio as he laughed. “You got jokes man.” Rio stepped closer to him, they were basically nose to nose. “At least when I make her cry it’s from my dick and not from being a dickwad.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you kept watch on Rio and Angel. Those two couldn’t be alone without trying to fight in the first 30 seconds.

The scene before you was getting to be too much, but you couldn’t do anything without being disrespectful towards Miguel. Thankfully, Coco and Gilly were watching them too and were able to pull Angel away.

Somehow Miguel talked you into staying for the entire dinner. And because the universe loved you so much you and Rio were assigned to the same table as Angel and Adelita.

After Adelita formally introduced herself to him. And you didn’t know if it was the alcohol or not, but it seemed that she was flirting with Rio. Not that you had anything to worry about. Rio wasn’t entertaining her at all.

“She take my money when I’m in need. Yeah, she’s a trifling’ friend indeed.” As soon as you recognized the notes, you tried to stomp Rio’s foot, but he was too quick.

“Huh, what was that?” Adelita didn’t quite catch what Rio was saying. “Oh nothing, I just got a song stuck in my head.  Now I ain’t saying she a gold digger. But she ain’t messing’ with no broke bro.”

Angel had to admit to himself that was funny, but ain’t no way he’ll let Rio know that.

“Stop it!” You whispered in Rio’s ear. Even if Adelita was oblivious to him making fun of her, everyone else surrounding them wasn’t. “Now you know you always tell me that but we both know you don’t mean it hear or at home.” Heat crept up your face and all you could do was hide your face in the crook of Rio’s neck. Rio slightly turned to kiss your forehead while fingering the bracelet he got you.

Once the glint of the bracelet caught Adelita’s eye she snatched your wrist from Rio. You didn’t mind though because you and Rio were off in your own little world. Not even the harsh stare from Angel could tear your eyes away from Angel.

“Ouch! What the fuck, Angel?” Adelita rubbed at her ankle. “My bad.” He frowned as Rio smirked at him knowing full well he was the intended target.

As the night went on, Rio’s and Angel’s antics went up. You don’t know what you did, but you had two petty kings arguing over you. And at times it was funny but also stressful.

The little innuendos concerning you flew over Adelita’s head but everyone else was getting them. They were getting so vicious that Coco and Gilly started another bet on who would swing first.

The event was concluding when things got downright ugly. Angel once again voiced his concerns of Rio dating you. Rio had enough and went for the low blow. “You’re just mad because I already took your girl and I’m about to take your city and your ring.”

Coco and Gilly’s bet was long forgotten as Angel went for Rio. “Don’t be mad, Reyes. I’m just spitting facts. If I’m wanna keep it hunnid, if I threw the right amount of cash, I could have your other girl too.”

“RIO!” You scolded him trying to pull him away. Thank god, Adelita was nowhere near to hear that little bit.

“Nah, babe fuck that.” Rio shrugged you off of him and stood toe to toe to Angel. “You ain’t on top no more big dawg. Get use to it.”

Angel just shook his head and turned around like a wounded animal. “Coco, give Gilly his money.”

“What?” Coco asks too late because Angel threw the first punch at Rio. And once they started fighting it was hard to get them to stop. Even Gilly couldn’t hold Angel. It wasn’t until you did something that they stopped.

Bishop tried to stop you once he noticed what you were attempting to do, but you slipped right past him. The boys were in between blows giving you the perfect opportunity to step in the middle of them. As soon as you became an obstacle each man lowered their fist.

Angel actually started to cower some when he saw your face. This was like your training face but a thousand times worse. Rio never saw you this pissed and he was beginning to get scared to breath the wrong way. Either way both men knew to shut the hell up.

Facing Angel first, you shoved him in the chest. “Angel Ignacio Reyes, I know you were raised better than this.”

“I’m sorry.” Angel mumbled, his eyes downcasted.

“And you!” You faced Rio, pointing a finger in his face. “I’ll deal with you when we get home.”

“Next time leave your petty bullshit for the football field.” You told the both of them before heading out without even waiting for Rio. 

Damn, you knew you should’ve stayed your behind at home.

Tagging: @tashawar​ @ourlittlesecretsoveragain​ @starrynite7114​ @sambucky8​ @mygirlrenee​ @richonne4life​ @readsalot73​ @chaneajoyyy​ @enamouravecleslivresetlechocolat​ @jassydwill11​ @otomefromtheheart​ @miss-nori85​ @xsweetdellzx​ @cocogodess15​ @ljstraightnochaser​ @my-rosegold-soul​ @angrythingstarlight​ @brattyfics​ @lovebennycolon​ @langiinspirations​ @chibsytelford​ @trulysuccubus​ @spookys-girl​ @sesamepancakes​ @literaturefeen​ @brownsugarcoffy​ @thesandbeneathmytoes​ @fvckthisbxtchup​ @theartisticqueen​ @vsfavs​ @tomhardydallasstarsgirl​ @angelreyesgirl​ @woahitslucyylu​ @marvelmaree​ @blessedboo​

[justasimplesinner]

SO got kidnapped, but when capitain boomerang, scarecrow, killer croc, the penguin and riddler (separately) comes to save so, he finds them released and beating the shit out of the kidnappers

these are going to be a little short, hun!

... s/o beating the shit out of their kidnappers hcs

Captain Boomerang's:

listen, Digger was panicking on the inside for the whole time it took for him to track you down and try to rescue you. out of all things people could've stolen from him, it just had to be you?? he's fucking terrified he won't get there in time and will never see you again

so when he sees you, out of your restraints, beating your kidnappers up with a fucking chair, everything just stops. he looks at you like he's seeing you for the first time and is falling in love all over again. it’s hard for him to wrap his mind around the fact that someone so small could be so powerful (almost as hard as he was getting)

you can bet your ass he will whoop and scream for you ("yeAH GO GET HIS ASS") before he realizes he should probably help you. it's more of a distraction though, considering that he desperately tries to flirt and make out with you while you both do it. but good lord, he's ready to spend his whole life with you now

Scarecrow's:

oh the second he didn't find you home, without any note from you nor a call beforehand, he knew something was wrong and started searching immediately. he pulled all the favors he had to find you as quick as possible, before your kidnappers could do something to you

it was terrifying for him - the prospect of you suffering because of your relationship with him. that his work might be the thing that took you away from him. he may not seem like it on the outside, but inside he already had two heart attacks in a row and he's crying in a corner

so when he creeps in to spread some gas and save you, and instead of you being tortured he sees you torturing the kidnappers, all of them tied to their chairs like you probably once were and using every single scare tactic known to man, he's hooked. a sense of pride overcomes him for a moment because you learned that from him and you acted like his little Mistress of Fear, and it took him a few good minutes before he woke up from his daze and decided to take part in this... experiment

Killer Croc's:

honestly, it'd take a while for Waylon to find out you've been kidnapped. at first he'd just think you finally decided to leave him and live your life peacefully without a fucking monster following you around, but after that little depressive episode he decided he needs to at least talk to you, to know why. he prefers to face your rejection head on instead of living without really knowing what happened between you two, what did he do

when he slithers into your house, he can immediately feel something's off. that boy has it a little easier than the others because of his great hunting skills. he can track you down pretty quick which makes up for the time he wallowed in self-pity (which makes him hate himself even more). he's not one for subtlety, he straight out rips off heads and limbs to get to the place your kidnappers have been keeping you in

only to find you fighting tooth and nail for your freedom, kicking, biting, scratching, doing everything and using anything you have at hand as a weapon, reducing your kidnappers to a bloody pulp. it makes him smile. he always knew you were brave, you had to be if you entered a relationship with him, and it was admirable. but he wastes no time in jumping in to your aid

Penguin's:

oh you know you have a whole team mobilized to look for you the second you don't pick up your phone when he calls you. he throughoughly searches your house, throwing money around and pulling all strings to find you, and it's pretty soon that he has a lead as to where you were kept.

he's going to raise hell - nobody touches what's his. all of his best thugs are armed up to the teeth and barge into the warehouse you've apparently been kept in with full force, bullets and grenades flying around while he waits for the heat to die off a little before he comes in as well. everything changes when his crew calls out for him and the second he gets to the main area (insulting the fact that his men didn't barge in to save you like they were paid to do), he suddenly stops

you're right there, gun stolen off of one of your kidnappers in your hand as you practically walk all over them in your heels, insulting and threatening all the time, coming up with many ways of making them pay (one even including his lovely pet shark!) and suddenly Oz sees you as more than just his usual eye candy. he sees you as his deadly, lovely fiance. because he's definitely fucking proposing after this

Riddler's:

Eddie is pretty paranoid, so when you don't pick up his call, he immediately checks on your apartment, your neighbours apartments, the whole street you reside on live feed. and when he sees your house thrashed with no sign of a living being inside, his blood runs cold. this man will do everything and force anyone to help him. he needs you back. nobody has a right to take you away from him. you can't suffer just because he's made some enemies in his time. you can't... die.

he's on the verge of a mental breakdown for the whole time he looks for you. with the help from other rogues, he gathered a large crew and after hacking into every fucking camera system in Gotham to track you down, he finally narrows down your position and let me tell you his heart is beating out of his chest the whole way there. he quickly and smoothly takes control over the building, eliminating any enemies in his way to get to you and gets to the security room to check the cameras as to where you are and announce his presence to the kidnappers on speakers

so when he sees you on screen, insulting and beating up a grown ass man- no, several men with nothing more than just a metal pipe, his brain stops functioning for a moment. he just sits there and admires you handling yourself. it excites him, knowing damn well that you could easily overpower him too... maybe he wanted you too... it takes a while for him to get his focus back as he gathers some men and practically runs to you like his life depended on it. there really are no words exchanged - which is surprising, considering that it's Edward. he just straight out make outs with you before everyone's eyes. god, he's so glad you're his

[missorgana]

words hung above, but never would form

pairing: bucky barnes/sam wilson

fandom: mcu, what if...?

rating: mature

word count: 3500

warning: swearing, alcohol, major character death, blood, guns

summary: What might've happened after the zombie apocalypse broke out, before the last team of heroes was formed, and how Bucky Barnes lost Sam Wilson. (pre-canon fic to what if... zombies!?)

(a few days ago i posted this very painful angst fic i thought of after the zombies episode of what if...? so here i am dropping it on tumblr as well!! i apologise, please know that it broke my heart to write this. uhm. that’s all!)

read on ao3

It’s been three months since they lost Steve.

Well, since the world lost most of the Avengers, really. And since the world lost most of its, uh, regular people anyway.

It’s a dark world full of shit and blood and brains out there now, yet Bucky’s taking his cold shower in the morning and cannot bring himself to care much. Sounds harsh, he knows.

He knew nothing of this new world and new time except his best friend, so of fucking course, Steve being… not Steve made him feel like there was no fucking point to anything. If the Avengers couldn’t beat this zombie virus? Yeah, there’s no hope for humanity anymore.

Except… except the man who greets him in the morning, handing him a plate of pancakes without even asking if he wanted some and pinning yet another red pin on their vastly growing map of ghost towns. Those are fully infected spots, by the way. Nothing left but the undead. The map is turning overwhelmingly red overwhelmingly fast.

The man hovering at said map also hands him his coffee, puts on one of the records from their LP stash, and smiles his sunny, stupid grin before ruffling Bucky’s hair and telling him he missed a spot.

Yeah, the world’s become even more of a dog eat dog world than before.

But Bucky Barnes’ got Sam Wilson. And nothing else matters.

*

It’s ironic really, that when he’s gotten out of cryo, that he’s finally rid of the Hydra programming and torture and pain he’s endured for years, and at the same time, someone somewhere got bitten and humanity’s become a walking all you can eat buffet. Perfect timing.

Of course, Steve’s never fled from a fight in his life, so honestly? Bucky can’t exactly say he’s surprised. He is- sorry,  was  an Avenger after all. The little shit.

What does surprise him, however, is finding himself growing closer to Sam, Steve’s friend who for some reason, somehow, was just as intent on finding him as Steve was. And… helping him. Saving him.

Bucky never understood why. He still doesn’t. He hates himself for everything they made him do, he’ll probably continue hating himself for as long as he lives, no matter how much he tries to suppress it, but Sam doesn’t. 

Sam fought for him, fought with him, visited him in Wakanda and took him back to a somewhat normal life before… you know. Now they’ve found a safehouse after losing everyone they had, except each other, and they’ve zombie-proofed to the best of their ability.

And life with Sam, well, Bucky could get used to it. In fact, he gets used to it very quickly.

Sam smiles so easily at him and doesn’t look at him like he’s a broken man who needs to be fixed. Sam doesn’t look at him with resentment, or pity, he just… looks at him. 

It’s hard to explain.

Thing is, nothing makes sense. The violence that keeps on going and going doesn’t make sense, Bucky losing his best friend in the world doesn’t make sense, the streets being abandoned and houses vacant and survival being a constant factor in life now doesn’t make sense.

But the man he’s hiding out with makes sense. He makes so much sense. The only thing that makes sense anymore.

His existence is constant, he’s there for him when he lets him and when he doesn’t, he gives him space. The shorter man is as if the sun was living and breathing, and himself, well, he’s the moon. He’s just trying to stay in Sam's orbit.

Chasing after him. Circulating. Bashing in everything he’s willing to give him.

The scruffy beard he’s let grow, and him humming to himself while he’s working on Redwing, and the wheezing, carefree laugh he can’t stop when Bucky suggests they watch a zombie movie one night. He tells Sam not to overwork himself and he promises not to, and the other man tells him to let him know what’s going on in his head, and hell, Bucky tells him. He tells him everything.

In fact, it’s the same night they  do  watch a zombie movie, frequently pointing out the inaccuracies and turning it into a drinking game with the terrible, terrible booze they swiped from the supermarket, that he looks at the short haired man dozing off on his shoulder and realises that this is the most peace he’s ever had.

It’s basically an apocalypse outside, but Bucky can’t get himself to look away from Sam’s eyelashes fluttering lightly as he slips off to sleep.

Their legs are tangled into each other on the coffee table, the microwave popcorn long abandoned, one of his friend’s hands resting on his thigh.

His beard scratches his shoulder, but he doesn’t mind. Sam has asked him if he should shave it several times, but God no, never. That beard’s been doing a lot of things to him - all good, of course.

He turns down the volume a bit. Sam looks peaceful. He hasn’t been sleeping much, he knows neither of them have, and where’s the time for it, anyway? He’s glad he is now.

Bucky can’t get himself to move, fearing waking the short haired man from his slumber, and for a minute, the outside world is far, far away from their reality.

Sam looks incredibly soft in that ripped sweater and sweatpants and the snore he lets out is no less than adorable.

It’s like- he looks at this man, and suddenly it’s like everything just falls back into place.

He looks soft in the morning over breakfast and hazy eyes, soft in the evening when he says goodnight, soft when he’s clutching the photos of his nephews (AJ and Cass were their names, he’s learned), soft when he’s retelling a memory with his parents on the family boat, soft when they both muse about Steve and his dumb shenanigans.

He looks something entirely different when he’s shirtless out of the shower and tiny droplets still fall down his chest and abs and Bucky struggles to breathe, every damn time. He only realises now why that is.

Sam is like a sunset, because Bucky wants nothing more than to wake up to this man and nothing else every day, till the end of time. What more could he wish for?

He’s beautiful. Bucky doesn’t think he’s called anyone, or anything beautiful before.

Looking back, he can’t see anymore how they could argue and bicker and annoy each other, and doesn't understand why. He’s wasted so much fucking time doing that. Not anymore. He could never go back to that, it would most likely kill him. Steve would be thrilled if he could see them now, wouldn't he?

And while this realization dawns upon him, washing over him like the biggest wave you could possibly imagine, he wonders if Sam feels the same when he looks at him.

Does he feel safe falling asleep on his shoulder like this? Does he find everlasting comfort in his smile like he does in his, does he wake up hoping and praying to see his smile, just once? Does he do everything he can think of to make him look at him, like he tries every single day?

He can only dream.

Huh. So this is what it’s like to be in love. Bucky doesn’t hate it.

*

It’s only a month after his life-changing realization of the sort that couldn't make him concentrate on everything else, that Bucky decides today is the day. He’s going to confess his feelings for his friend.

And this is something in the middle of chaos, something he’s never experienced before. He’d never thought he’d practice his words in the mirror like a nervous teenager, but alas.

Sam Wilson, I’m in love with you.  No. No, it’s too short. Think, James. What does he make you feel?

Sam, you’re the last thing I think about when I go to sleep and the first thing I think about when I wake up. Sam, I want to see you smile every day. Sam, I want to make you happy… as happy, as… happy as you make me.

Too long? Shit. 

Sam, you’re the only good in this piece of shit world. I love you. Sam hates when he’s that pessimistic, though, and always tells him to cheer up, even in the middle of a zombie invasion. Another reason why he loves him.

Sam, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you. Nothing I wouldn't do to see you happy. I want to spend the rest of my life making you happy.

His stream of thought is interrupted by faint clanging in the kitchen of their safehouse. Bucky sighs. He’s not sure this is going to be perfect, he wants it to be.

He has to go, he has to try. Now or never.

Except… the smile he’s come to anticipate every single morning isn’t there to meet him. Instead, he sees Sam suited up, wing pack on his back, gloves on, looking through one of their many folders they’ve filled up with theories of the infection and safe spots and danger zones and everything else.

Bucky frowns, looks at him in silence for a moment. Maybe he’ll try a joke, “Going somewhere?”

His friend hums without looking, “I’m going to catch Steve.”

Sorry,  what? What the fuck? 

Sam did not just say what he thinks he said. He didn’t. He couldn’t have.

This is why he blinks in disbelief, for the first time rendered speechless by the other man. Sam looks up at him, face glazed over by determination and confusion by his own reaction, most like. Then, worry overtakes his usually warm, deep brown eyes, ones that he could drown himself in and never come out of.

“You okay, Bucky?” he asks, and Bucky clenches his jaw.

“You’re going to… catch him,” he says, a statement rather than a question. It’s Sam’s turn to frown, but he nods.

“Yes. Catch him and bring him back.”

“You’re joking,” he laughs in sheer denial, but the seriousness in his friend’s face is scaring him, “Sam… tell me you’re joking.”

“I’m not.”

Oh, this is just not happening. This world lets him fall in love with the most perfect person he knows and then lets that very same person be so fucking stupid?

Bucky can’t let him go. Bucky can’t lose him.

“What, then?” he asks, one hand on his hip, “Invite him over and let him eat our brains, just like that?”

“ Bucky. We’re going to catch him, and then we’ll cure him.”

He laughs, loudly. Okay, this is just hilarious. Sam Wilson is the most perfect person in this world exactly because of this- because he believes this world is still able to be saved. Because he believes it’s  worth saving . Fucking hell. 

“You found a cure you’re not telling me about?”

Sam sighs, scratching his chin, “Come on, Buck. I talked to Hope-”

“Who?”

“Hope Van Dyne. The Wasp,” the shorter man explains, “She lost her parents, and Scott Lang, remember?”

Bucky shrugs, but nods.

“Well, she’s been recruiting those of us who survived. Who’s left. And she thinks there might be a way to reverse the virus, her father brought it from the, uh… Quantum Realm.” Sam’s about to hand him one of the folders, but he crosses his arms, and shakes his head, then.

God, Bucky’s well aware how stubborn he is. Sam has told him plenty of times.

But he’ll be damned if he lets the man go just like that. He’s not letting him get hurt.

“That’s not happening,” he says shortly. His friend’s frown deepens.

“I’m sorry?”

“You’re not going after that thing.”

The man turns to him completely, wide-eyed and shock written all over his features. “ That thing? ” he huffs, “That thing is our friend.”

“Not anymore, Sam. I’m not letting you get yourself killed by the undead.”

“He’s not dead,” Sam says. His voice raised. He looks- he doesn't look soft anymore. There’s no trace of that smile that gives Bucky shivers down his spine. He looks… upset. He’s upset. Fucking shit.

Why can’t he-  fuck , can he not try to be a fucking hero right now? That’s why Steve’s gone. Why can’t he see that?

“You’re being irrational,” Bucky tells him, feeling the anger rise within him,  this is not how it was supposed to go, stay with me-

“Oh, I’m being irrational?” Sam laughs, sarcasm evident in his voice, “There might be a cure. We might get Steve back, Buck. And I can take care of myself, you know.”

“I know, but-”

“But, what?” he sighs, again. The irritation is flowing between them, Bucky’s freaking out, and above all, Sam looks… he looks disappointed.

This is the worst he’s felt in his whole fucking life. He can’t disappoint the only person that matters to him. Yet he did.

“What if Hope’s wrong, Sam? It’s pointless, most of the population’s infected anyway, it would take forever to get everyone-”

“You’ve got that little faith in me?”

No. No no no.  Sam, no. I love you. I love you so much it pains me to see you like this, I never meant to hurt you, I didn’t-

“We’ve lost too many, Sam!” he finds himself yelling, none of the words scrambled in his brain making it out. He’s the most stupid of them, obviously, not that he wasn’t aware. “I know you believe these people can be saved, and your hope is incredible, but can you please… not go?”

“I’m an Avenger, Bucky. It’s what I do. It’s what Steve did.”

“It’s what got Steve turned.”

This seems to be something Sam has to ponder over, because a rather uncomfortable silence settles between them. His friend’s eyes soften somewhat, but his teeth are still gritted, as are his own. Would be inappropriate to confess his undying love to the other man now, wouldn’t it?

“I do believe they can be saved,” his friend eventually speaks up, “I believe that because I  need  to. I lost my parents, Sarah, Steve, Natasha. I have to try.”

See, that makes sense. Another reason why Bucky fucking loves him and wants to kiss his stupid fucking face and beg him not to go. But he doesn’t.

“It’s too risky, Sam, it’s not safe.”

“I told you, I can take care of myself.”

Bucky holds in a whine, embarrassing,  desperate , “I know you can! You’re a fucking hero. You’re one of the best, Sam, you are. I wish I was that brave, I just-”

“Then why won’t you let me do this?” his friend asks in frustration, “Why won’t you let me try?”

I can’t lose you. “Because I lo-”

The words are interrupted by a loud bang. Sam closes his mouth immediately, tight-lipped. Bucky’s mouth hangs open, voice disappearing. Another bang. Then a moan reaches them from somewhere far away.

Their eyes widen in synchron as they look at each other, eye contact unwavering. They both know what that sound means.

Someone’s coming in. Someone not human.

*

Whatever’s found them, it’s on the roof, and it’s trying its hardest to get in, so Bucky’s got to shut his mind off and get ready.

Not only is he stupid enough to start a fight with Sam, they also get discovered by one of the zombies. Fan-fucking-tastic. They run to opposite ends of the safehouse, trying to locate exactly where the intruder’s at.

Bucky follows the sound into the hallway, past the bathroom, while Sam stays behind in the kitchen, machine gun pointed at the ceiling. He could not have picked a worse time to speak his feelings than today, could he? Well done, James.

And as if this day isn’t already bad enough, he can’t hear the groaning from the roof anymore.

“Sam!” he yells, because it doesn’t matter if the brain-eater hears them, “I lost it.”

“I hear them,” his friend yells back, prompting Bucky to make his way back, adrenaline pumping, feeling the sweat running down his back, “They’re on- Bucky! Buck-”

A crash. The biggest fucking crash he’s ever heard. Silence.

No.

“Sam?!” 

“I’m here,” he hears the other man’s coughing, “It’s Steve. It’s Steve! Steve, hey, okay, now stay right there-”

Bucky’s officially panicking. This is not happening.  It’s not .

He’s running so fast he stumbles over his own feet. At the same time, he feels as if he’s frozen on the spot. He’s not sure what’s real anymore.

“Sam, I’m coming-”

Sam  screams . And Bucky’s heart is torn out of his chest and smashed onto the floor.

It’s the most earth shattering scream Bucky’s ever heard. It reaches him and goes inside every bone in his body and clouds his vision and makes him want to scream in anger.  Sam. Sam. Sam. I need him. I need you.

Yet, when he reaches the living room, he sees nothing at first but rubble and smoke. The roof’s broken down. And in the middle of it, a figure is huddled over another lying on the floor, eerily still.

No. This isn’t real.

He might even convince himself he’s dreaming, he really might, because his vision is still clouded, and his teeth are still gritted so hard he bites the inside of his cheek, until the figure turns around and he’s met with a familiar face.

Steve Rogers.

But it isn’t his Steve, it could never be, because this Steve? This one’s a walking corpse. Sickly pale skin and blood between his teeth and red eyes looking back at Bucky with no memory or remorse. And on the floor-

On the floor… on the floor- He can’t be. He’s- Sam is-  Sam .

“Sam,” is all Bucky can say, feeling like a broken record. His voice breaks, and the undead fucker in front of him doesn’t move an inch.

Sam is bitten.  My Sam. I love you. I love you so fucking much and that’s why I didn’t want you to go, you perfect idiot, I love you-

He’s clutching the machine gun too hard, his knuckles are turning white, but he can’t do anything.

“That’s enough, Steve,” he finds himself addressing him. It doesn’t faze the thing in front of him, but that’s not surprising. It’s not his friend anymore, “Enough.”

Then a moan sounds, but it doesn’t come from Steve’s mouth. The figure on the floor rises, slowly. Sam Wilson. But he isn't his Sam anymore.

Sam looks at him. There’s nothing in his eyes, they’re empty. No warmth, no safety, not anymore.

He’s gone, but he can’t make himself believe it.

The thing that used to be his friend… the man he’s in love with, the man he wanted to spend every day with, every day for the rest of his life, if only he’d let him, that monster that’s destroyed the most beautiful soul on this shitty earth, hollowed him out and taken his body,  that monster groans again.

Then, both figures move. The fuckers are moving in one direction, and that’s towards him.

They’re not fast, Bucky backs away, but his eyes are soon clouded by hot streams of tears running down his face. He can’t hold them back. He can’t control himself. He can’t control anything, not anymore.

So he raises his gun, “Sam,” he whispers, well aware no one’s going to respond, “Sam, I’m so sorry. This is my fault. This is all my-”

He squeezes his eyes shut, ready to fire all the ammo he’s got into his two undead friends, but he opens them again, looks back at them. They’re hungry. They’re still moving.

Bucky can’t breathe.

He wipes at his tears angrily, looking back and forth between those two dead fuckers and hovers his finger over the trigger, but he can’t… he can’t. He only realises in this second. He can’t shoot.

They’re not themselves anymore  , he reminds himself.  They’re gone.

But Sam’s warm voice full of peace and sunshine and lazy laughter and fleeting, shy touching of hands pops up in his head.  That thing is our friend. He’s not dead. Those things are your best friend and the love of your life, James.

The zombies keep coming closer and Bucky bites his tongue.

“Shit.”

He lowers his gun, and because he doesn’t know what else to do, he knocks over the coffee table, then the TV, then the potted plant that Sam loves-  loved so much, and runs as fast as he can, not looking back. He hears more crashes, the distraction hopefully successful, but doesn’t slow down.

Bucky escapes out the back door, jumps in the car and pushes the speeder.

Sam Wilson, I’m so in love with you, I can’t think about anything else. You’re the only one for me. I love you. And now you’re gone because of me. I didn’t get to tell you.

He doesn’t know what to do, or where he’s going, except- he needs to find Hope Van Dyne. He has to.

[a-vast-african-plain]

Huddling For Warmth

happy birthday to the absolutely wonderful @mallr4ts!! I hope you have an excellent day :)

“I’m starting to think that you don’t have a damn idea where you’re going.”

You rolled your eyes at the man riding next to you. “I’m starting to think about putting a bullet in you if you don’t shut your mouth.”

Micah scowled. You had been traveling for almost the whole day. The sun was starting to set and the air was getting colder, but you were still searching for the cabin that Dutch had asked you two to find. He had stored some extra money from a score there for safekeeping, and now you two were tasked with recovering it.

It should have been a relatively short trip, but the freshly fallen snow made everything look similar, covering up landmarks and confusing your sense of direction. Nonetheless, you were almost sure that the cabin was just beyond the hill you were climbing.

Sure enough, as you reached the top, you saw the cabin down below in the fading light. You sighed in relief.

“See? Told you I knew where we were.” You started down the hill, hearing Micah chuckle behind you.

“Whatever you say, doll.”

You clenched your jaw. You hated when he called you that, and that was probably why he did it so often. His favorite hobby always seemed to be getting under your skin- flirting with you around camp, making teasing remarks, and laughing whenever you told him off. You prided yourself on being able to hold your own when challenged, but Micah had a way of irritating you that left you equal parts furious and flustered.

You took a deep breath, put Micah out of your mind and kept riding ahead. When you reached the cabin, you slid off your horse and entered, not even sparing a glance back at your companion.

The cabin itself looked sturdy enough, but the inside was desolate, with only a few chairs and a table with a broken leg shoved into a corner. Dutch had said he stashed the money up the chimney, and you were in the process of pulling down a bag of cash when Micah strode in, carrying both of your packs. You furrowed your brow.

“What are you doing with my stuff?”

“Bringing it inside. Did you think we were gonna ride back tonight? Sun’s already down, and I’d rather not take our chances with the wolves. Here.” He tossed you your pack. “Get a fire going and I’ll get out some food.”

***

After you both ate, you settled in near the fire and made a place to sleep. You were woefully unprepared to spend a night in Colter, but you had a few thin blankets tucked away in your pack and you wrapped yourself up tight, trying your best to keep out the cold.

Micah didn’t seem interested in sleeping, instead sitting next to the fire near you and whittling a stick. He never seemed to sleep in camp either, preferring to clean his guns or sharpen his knife. Sometimes you found yourself wondering if the man ever slept. You sighed and laid down. Oh well. As long as he could shoot straight, it didn’t make much of a difference to you. You closed your eyes and tried to drift off, but it was difficult. Even with the fire in front of you and your blankets clutched close, the night just seemed to get colder as it dragged on, leaving you freezing and half awake.

Meanwhile, Micah stayed up, watching the fire and whittling away. He spared you a glance every so often, thinking you were already asleep. You seemed restless though, shivering and curling closer into your blankets.

If it was anyone else beside him, he wouldn’t have given them a second thought. But you? He thought about you far too often. He thought about the color of your eyes, the way you laughed, the cute frustrated face you made when he teased you...

Damn it. He couldn’t just leave you to freeze. Sighing to himself, he laid down behind you, put an arm around you, and tucked you against him without a word.

You stopped shivering almost immediately, partly just from shock. What the hell was he doing? Not two hours ago he had been insulting you and now he was cuddling you?

You almost wanted to reach over and push him away... but god he was warm. And it felt so good to be held, even if it was by someone you hated.

You did hate him, didn’t you?

You felt your face heat as you thought about it for a moment. There was no way you liked him. No way. But still, you couldn’t bring yourself to move from his embrace. You closed your eyes, letting yourself drift off.

And if you shifted a little closer to him? Well, that was your business.

***

Dutch had been happy with you and Micah’s work when you finally returned to camp, letting you keep a small cut of the money in appreciation. Things were great- except for the fact that now Dutch wanted to pair you with Micah for everything. He said you had worked well together, but you couldn’t make heads or tails of that considering that you and Micah bickered practically nonstop. Like now, for instance. Just this morning Dutch had sent you both to scope out a bank in town to determine what time the security was weakest and you were already tired of hearing Micah talk.

“We should hit it first thing in the morning,” he said, scanning the front of the bank from the alley where you were hidden.

You scoffed. “During daylight hours? In front of god and everybody? We’ll have the law on us before we get two feet inside.”

“You don’t understand the first thing about robbing places like this.”

“No, you don’t understand the first thing about subtlety-”

Your sentence was cut off by Micah covering your mouth and pulling you behind the corner of the building. You were getting ready to elbow him in the stomach, but you stilled when you saw the sheriff walk by your hiding place. Micah waited until he passed before letting you go, chuckling as you glared at him.

“Don’t understand subtlety, huh doll?” he teased.

“Shut up,” you muttered. “It’s getting dark anyway. We should go find a place to spend the night.”

***

There was only one hotel in town, and because the universe seemed to be conspiring against you, there was only one room left. Something about a group of performers renting out half the hotel- you didn’t stay long enough to hear the whole story, just grabbed the key and shoved some bills across the counter before heading upstairs, Micah following. You turned the corner to your room at the end of the hall, unlocked it, and stepped inside.

Of course.

Of course there was only one bed. Goddammit.

You entertained the idea of fighting Micah for it for only a moment before he walked into the room behind you and flopped down onto it. You were too tired to argue, you decided, setting down your pack and kicking off your boots. You placed your hat on the end table and stripped down to your chemise before getting into bed beside him. Micah leaned back against the headboard, looking you up and down.

“What, no goodnight kiss?”

You elbowed him hard as he chuckled.

“Goodnight, Micah,” you snapped. You turned your back to him, your face warm, and tried to banish all thoughts of Micah Bell from your mind.

You felt the bed dip as he settled in to sleep beside you. “Goodnight, doll.”

***

You blinked awake slowly, barely aware of the warmth against your side. It took you a moment to remember where you were, but when you did your eyes flew open.

You must have moved in your sleep. Despite falling asleep on the edge of the bed, you had rolled over to Micah’s side and were now pressed up against him, your head on his chest and your arm slung around his waist.

You froze, not wanting to move in fear of waking him. You should move before he does, you told yourself. You should get out of bed and get dressed, or at the very least roll back over to your side. But you didn’t.

Instead, you looked up slightly, and took a moment to study his sleeping face. It was strange to see his expression so peaceful for once. He was actually rather handsome when his face wasn’t twisted up in a scowl or that infuriating smirk he always wore around you. Now if he could just stop being such an ass...

You were startled out of your thoughts as Micah groaned, finally waking up. Without thinking, you closed your eyes, pretending to still be asleep.

Micah shifted beneath you as he woke, before he went still, realizing that you were cuddled up close to him. You stayed still, keeping your breathing steady. You expected him to get out of bed or move you back over to your side. But that didn’t happen. Instead, you felt his hand come up to rub your back, warm and comforting. You felt yourself relax under his touch. Micah sure didn’t seem in any hurry to get up and you couldn’t say you blamed him. It couldn’t hurt to stay like this just a bit longer, could it?

The mission could wait.

***

A few days later you were back in camp and back in your own tent. You would have thought you’d be grateful to finally be alone, but for some reason, you couldn’t seem to fall asleep.

Whenever this happened before, you’d just lay on your back and stare at the stars, or maybe go sit by the campfire. Tonight though, you were feeling especially restless.

You couldn’t stop thinking about Micah. You had slept better than you had in weeks that night at the cabin, and even better at the hotel in town. It couldn’t be him though. Maybe you slept better because you were being held. That had to be it. You refused to let yourself think that it was because of Micah.

And yet, thinking about anyone else holding you didn’t give you the same feeling. Sleeping with Micah had made you feel... safe. Cared for. Against all logic, you felt most comforted around Micah fucking Bell.

You turned onto your side, looking over at Micah’s bedroll. To your surprise he was actually there, laying down and seemingly preparing to get some rest for once.

You could always ask if you could sleep next to him...

Shit. What did you have to lose? The worst he could say was no. You got up and pulled a blanket over your shoulders, repeating that phrase to yourself as you walked over to him, only realizing when you stood right in front of him that you had no idea how to ask for what you wanted.

“Hey,” you started.

Micah looked up from his bedroll and met your gaze with a raised eyebrow. “Hey yourself.”

“You’re actually going to sleep for once?”

He nodded. “I suppose so. Why?”

“I just wondered… well your bed’s a lot closer to the fire. And I was thinking maybe I’d be a bit warmer if I slept over here. With you, I mean.”

“With me?” The corner of his lips pulled up into that old familiar smirk.

You huffed. “Look, if you’re going to be an ass about it, I don’t want to hear it. Just give me a straight answer so I can go back to bed-”

“Doll,” he interrupted. “I want you to stay.”

You felt your face heat. “Oh.”

He scooted over and patted the space beside him. “C’mere and lie down.”

You followed his instructions, laying down and scooting close until you were chest to chest with him. He smiled at that, really smiled, not just teased or smirked, and pulled the blankets over top of you.

“Being a bit forward, aren’t you, doll?” He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you to him. “Makes a fella wonder what exactly you want from him.”

“Don’t push your luck, blondy,” you said, hiding your smile in the crook of his neck. “You’ve gotta earn that privilege.”

He pulled you even closer. “Oh, I plan to, doll. Trust me, I do.”

[sondrawr]

Where Monsters Dwell

“What kind of place is this?” “The kind of place where fairy tales live and monsters dwell.” —Smoke Bitten

Adam Hauptman is intimately acquainted with fear. It was born in a jungle in Vietnam and never quite left him. Even in his happiest moments—of which there were many, especially recently—it lurks in the fringes. Lying in wait.

When he sees Mercy broken on the burnt grass, seemingly dead, he feels that fear claw up his chest and strangle him. He blacks out for god knows how long, his worst fear playing like a feedback loop in his mind. It isn’t until Samuel, still wolf, bites him in the arm that he finally comes to.

That’s how Adam finds himself, naked and half covered in blood, cradling Mercy’s body. His pack huddles around him, worry creasing their faces. He feels the stink of his fear billowing out of him like smoke, choking everyone around him.

“She’s alive, damn it!” Gary finally manages to gasp. He is panting, voice raspy. How long had he been trying to tell him?

Adam reaches down into himself and feels for that thread-thin bond that connects him to his heart’s mate. It’s there, flickering. He grasps it in both hands, wrapping it around his wrist, anchoring himself to sanity. To her.

Mercy survives that night, like she has done so often before. But one day her luck will run out; his fear whispers the words he knows too well. She’s not like Coyote—damn the man—who resurrects like the sun every morning.

Adam hates beyond telling that her unconquerable spirit is wrapped in such an insubstantial thing as human skin and bones.

:::

Adam first met Mercy Thompson in Montana when she was about thirteen years old. He was up on business, Alpha of a New Mexico pack and newly engaged to a blonde, 22-year-old coed named Christy.

Mercy at the time, before the deaths of her foster parents robbed her of childhood, was still all scraped knees and awkward arms of adolescence. Jutting chin and slumped shoulders—defiant and bored.

There was a ghost of a bruise on her face from the accident where she wrapped Bran’s brand new sports car around a tree. He had heard of that incident within hours of it happening, as he suspected most wolves did, even across the ocean. Mercy’s antics were already famous.

She sat on a chair outside Bran’s office, the scuffed toe of her sneaker knocking into a leggy console table nearby. Looking at him sidelong, she had the air of someone waiting their turn at the principal’s office.

When the door finally opened to let him in, he asked, “What did she do this time?” He stepped around Bran to enter the office.

Bran’s mouth pressed flat in an irritated line, while Charles smirked in the corner. He was the one who answered: “Something about chocolate Easter bunnies.”

“She poisoned a group of boys at school,” Bran snapped, closing the door a little too roughly behind Adam.

“Really?” That seemed a bit extreme for the young girl, whose reputation for pranks were mostly harmless, if effective.

“She injected several chocolate Easter bunnies with ipecac,” Charles explained. “And then warned the boys not to steal them, or ‘they would pay.’ They, of course, did not listen. Apparently the boys had been in the habit of stealing the younger kids’ candy for a while.”

Adam laughed despite himself.

“She wants for discipline,” Bran said with a frown.

“Mercy has plenty of discipline,” Charles answered. “It’s the focus of it, that’s the problem. Her interests are too narrow and she has an overdeveloped sense of justice.”

“And her foster father can’t do anything?” asked Adam.

Charles smirked. “If Mercy were a wolf, I wouldn’t be surprised if she outranked him. Any good she does is out of love for Bryan and his mate, not because of fear or intimidation.”

That was, Adam realized, the principle by which Mercy lived her life. It was the driving force of all she did for her family and friends—the pack she forged for herself, not with magic ties but by fierce loyalty and reckless love.

:::

It has been months since she recovered from her devastating injuries. Injuries that Samuel said at first would be the end of her. Her survival is nothing short of a miracle and, Adam suspects, a bit of Coyote’s magic.

Now night holds new terrors for him. He lays in bed at night just listening to the steady beating of his mate’s fragile, mortal heart. Dreading the day when it would inevitably stop.

:::

Mercy was twenty-three when he next saw her in the middle of a Washington desert. Alone in the world but still causing trouble. The first order of business for his newly arrived pack was eliminating the rogue wolves who were harassing her. Saved without so much as a thank you.

Was it coincidence or conspiracy that brought her to the Tri-Cities when Bran had ordered Adam to move his pack north from New Mexico? Coincidence on her part probably, but definitely not Bran’s, whose machinations were wide reaching and infamous.

That Adam bought the property behind her trailer was pure, ornery spite on his part.

She had marched up to him on the first day of construction and stuck a finger in his chest. “Tell Bran that I don’t need a babysitter,” she told him, eyes flashing. “I’ve done fine for eight years without his help—I’m done with wolves.”

“Good to know,” he answered, because he knew that response would drive her crazy, and turned back toward the construction of his pack house. He imagined her making faces at the back of his head and smiled.

:::

He kisses a line down her body, pausing at the shiny-pink of each new scar. Scars she earned in defense of his pack—in defense of him.

And he knows his love is killing her.

Oh god, would her life be better without him? Yes, the fear—the monster—inside him says. Yessss. We will kill herrrrr.

Panic like bile rises in his throat, and he gulps it down. Beneath him Mercy tenses, sensing his change of mood. He murmurs quietly, nuzzling her, lulling her back into softness underneath him. His lovely Mercy. His mate, for who he would willingly lay down his soul, let alone his body.

Whom he would kill for. Without question.

This. This will be his goodbye, then.

He presses a kiss to her inner knee, to her neck, and then presses into her, drawing a sigh from her lips. With his own he continues his careful ministrations, whispering a benediction against every mark on her skin that dares to be there because of him.

:::

His touch is a disease. His touch is a curse.

He can’t bear lying next to her and not touching her, so he doesn’t. He stays late in his office. He sleeps in the spare guest room. It’s killing him, but every day she’s alive, and it’s worth it.

It’s killing him that she wanders the house with those empty eyes, a line of concern between her brows, the hurt and confusion that clearly marks her face.

But at least she is alive. And soon, it will be over.

:::

Adam’s favorite memory of Mercy—the one he thinks of before he puts the gun to his head—is of her in the wedding dress too fancy for the church reception that his pack and daughter put together. She’s dancing with Jesse, at the heart of the people he loved most in the world, swaying to a country song blasting from the church’s ancient speaker system. And she turns to him and smiles.

He can see it as clear as if it were right in front of him. There was so much love in her face then. How different are those faces, the one from his memory and the one Mercy wears at this moment, when she finally sees him for the monster he is.

But she is not disgusted and horrified, as he feared she would be. She is furious. She throws a barrage of words against him, her unfettered anger like a battering ram.

In the years Adam had known and loved Mercy, he has become intimately acquainted with her many moods. Sneaky, playful, worried, content. They were as familiar to him as the feel of Mercy’s calloused hands in his.

Her white hot rage was something entirely new. And through clenched teeth she seethes a truth so utterly profound, that in that moment it shatters the madness that grips him. He lowers the gun in his hand.

Three simple words they had spoken to each other again and again. Whispered in passion and in play. Promised—sworn.

“You are mine.”

:::

He believes her. And for now, so does the monster.

You are mine.

You are mine.

You are mine.

He follows her home, to bed. And though he can’t make love to her like he wants, he worships her body with oil and hands and mouth.

It isn’t until she is completely sated and asleep when the monster rips through his body again. A monster that he now realizes is the ugly marriage of his own fear and self loathing, and Elizaveta’s death curse.

But instead of hurting his mate like Adam fears, the monster scrabbles out from beneath the covers and huddles in the corner of the room. It sits there watching his mate, the covers rising and falling to the rhythm of her breathing.

Within a few minutes, the even breaths stutter and stop. “Adam?” she calls, voice rough with sleep.

It’s the monster that growls in response, and Adam waits. It didn’t work, he thinks. The monster is still here. Will you finally leave me like you’re supposed to?

And still he remembers her promises: You are mine. You are mine. You are mine.

“For fuck’s sake,” she says sounding annoyed. “Get back to bed. I’m cold.”

Oh, my Mercy.

After a moment, the monster cautiously approaches the bed, and it creaks under the sudden weight. It wraps itself around her, tucking her head under its chin. She draws up the covers over them both, and they settle to sleep.

For the first time in a long time Adam prays. Let this be enough. This love. Let me be enough to keep her safe.

If God is kind and he is lucky, maybe it will be.

Maybe the monster will love her, too.

[chil2de]

Hi just wondering if you’d ever consider writing for chuuya from bungo stray dogs and nishinoya from haikyuu. I love them both so much and you’re my favourite author and I’d really love to see how you’d write for them if you’re up for it

sorry @ all my other fandoms it’s literally the way i dropped everything to write this LMFAO

hiya!! i’m sosos happy this came through i remember a while back a lovely anon requested dazai from bsd and i completely forgot about it so aaaa!! so sorry if you’re reading this that anon! but nevertheless! i really, really adore chuuya and this is in fact my first time writing for bsd and chuuya for that matter. i’m so flattered anonie, thank you <3 i hope i done him justice :) p.s: i got a little bit carried away and was planning to post nishinoya in this one too but.. yeah. be sure to look out for him cause i’ll post a separate piece for yuu! enjoy.

nsfw content below! if you’re new here, please read my disclaimer here before proceeding. thank you!

a note: logically, this fanfic makes no sense because chuuya doesn’t wear his sexy vest + hat outfit until after dazai has left the port mafia so... don’t think about logic, k? (i think so anyway? it’s been a while)

-

there’s a clink of ice dragging against glass that chimes through the air. inside the glass seems to be a transparent liquid of sorts, leading anyone of the ordinary to believe that it may at least be vodka. in actuality, it’s just lemon flavoured water with some ice. it’s not like anyone would pick up his drink to take a sip anyway-

“oh? it’s not vodka? ehhhhh, are you trying to look cool, chuuya?” dazai takes a bold swig of the beverage before setting it back down onto the coaster. he bears a large grin that stretches from ear to ear, eyes lightly fluttered shut as he hums sardonically. there’s a spring in his step as he traverses beside chuuya and hops himself up onto the window, legs dangling and ankles fluttering.

“what the hell do you want?” chuuya barks, eyebrows creasing in disgust.

“what do i want? hm. like right now? you know.. i could probably go for some coffee right now! a cappucino? no- maybe latte? oh, wait, what about a flat white-“

“dazai.” chuuya hisses, spinning around from his chair to face him.

“seriously. cut the bullshit. why are you here, huh? i’m not having a tea party with you, so if you’re here to waste my time, leave.”

“ugh, you’re always so to the point. a little smalltalk and banter never killed anyone.”

“it killed my brain cells. spit it out.”

“chuuuyaaa~ you’re so meaaaan!”

there’s a scowl that chuuya pierces through dazai so heavily to the point where the latter is forced to drop his foxy act.

“we’re taking a woman in for questioning. she refuses to stay anywhere that’s not a proper bedroom, said that she’s more than willing to comply otherwise.”

“pffft, what a fucking stuck-up princess. so what? you’re sticking me with her?”

“believe me, you’ll thank me. i can’t take her. i’m out on a job in a few.”

“i’d never thank you but alright. i just have to keep an eye on her until tomorrow?”

“even you won’t be able to screw this up.” dazai remarks as he slides off the window, straightening himself before beelining towards the door.

“what the hell is that supposed to mean? you tryna say something?”

“uh-huh. anyways! see you later.”

as dazai heads outside, he takes one last glance at chuuya from over his shoulder.

“alsooo, can you keep the noise down to a minimum? everyone knows your name here already-“

“shut up!”

“yeah, okay~”

the door quietly shuts with a thud and chuuya leans back in his chair, staring up at the ceiling for a while.

within a couple of moments, he notices the shuffling of footsteps outside his room. instead of looking like a moron who fell asleep with his eyes open, he swings around to his desk and continues to gloss over the details of his next job.

an unfamiliar feminine voice rings out from behind him, causing his interest to peak.

“oh, um, thank you!” you awkwardly bow to the guards? the uh, big scary people with guns? (probably guards) who escorted you up to the room. you take a step inside and let out a small squeak before the door behind you shuts.

and locks.

“eh?”

“what’s with the ‘eh?’” chuuya snorts, not making the effort to turn to face you just yet. he goes to take a sip of his drink and wrinkles his face in disdain when he realises the being that tarnished it beforehand. using his right hand, he crosses over his left and effortlessly pours the beverage out the window. you only gawk at him with utter confusion. couldn’t he have just gotten up to go to the kitchen or something? do they even have a kitchen?

you conclude that standing around stiffly and eyeing the man at the desk isn’t a good look on you, so you move towards the bed. sure you said you wanted an actual room, but, you didn’t think it would be someone else’s.

“may i?” you motion towards the bed. chuuya briefly flickers his attention to you in his peripherals.

“sure.”

you scoot onto his bed, making yourself comfortable. you slide your back up against the wall, leaning yourself into the wall on your right as well. you decide to glance out the window, counting by the different coloured cars in hopes for either time to pass or the mafioso man to offer you some form of entertainment. maybe a book? oh, shit, uno cards? can you even imagine playing uno with him? this guy would flip his desk before the first round’s finished.

you laugh to yourself, and within a split second, you immediately lament your existence.

“what’s so funny?” chuuya implores, setting his pen down. you haven’t even turned yet and you can feel his gaze burning holes into you.

“nothing.” you blurt out.

his sigh fills the room as he picks up his chair before setting it down beside you. chuuya slumps down with his legs spread apart, torso cradling the back of his chair.

his slender and bony hand reaches out, ice cold fingertips from his beverage send you into a state of alarm as he clasps your chin before yanking your head to face him.

“i don’t tolerate bullshit. quite frankly, i won’t repeat myself to you.”

“the least you can do after strolling in here like a prestigious brat is listen to me. i don’t know what shit you pulled to get involved with the port mafia but-“

chuuya grazes his thumb over your bottom lip, pulling it down. he peers down at your teeth and the beginning of the pink in your mouth.

“what were you snorting about?“

there’s a desire that fuels your extremities and every nerve in your body. you don’t know why, but fuck, this man makes you wanna act like an intolerant brat. and you think, what’s the harm? if you’re gonna get picked apart by the port mafia, you might as well start early.

and bonus points? he’s hot as shit.

“that’s none of your business, is it?” you grin over his finger, valiantly lapping and curling your tongue before circling the muscle over the tip of his thumb.

chuuya screws his face at you. his eyebrows furrow in turmoil at the blatant disrespect and the corners of his lips crinkle in distaste. your eyes lock with his deep blue orbs and you smirk at the arousal that glosses over them.

chuuya uncurls his hand from your chin before easily kicking aside his chair. it goes clattering halfway across the room.

“down on your knees.” chuuya snaps, tone deep and laced with danger. you oblige, scooting off the bed as fast as humanly possible before settling down onto your knees.

you eye chuuya as he grabs ahold of his belt. he’s extremely short, for one, so you can see why he’d ask you to sit like this. he’s slender, but not underweight. there’s obvious implications of built muscles along his body, especially his thighs and arms. there’s something about the black fingerless gloves that rock against his smooth and pale skin that makes your stomach stir.

“what are you staring at?” he hisses before tossing aside his belt.

“isn’t that obvious?” you remark, licking your lips.

chuuya flashes you a smirk before zipping his fly open. using his gloved dominant hand, he decorates your face by slapping his thick dick against your cheek. his cock is piping hot against your face. you swallow with anxiety when his size is made apparent to you. he’s got a girth that’s wider than average, with a length of around 7 inches. maybe 8? you’re not exactly sure. you lick your lips at the deep red tones that flush his pretty cock.

“i’ll wipe that shitty attitude clean off your face. you’re reminding me of that dumbass clown.”

“eh? an ex or something? you’re bisexual? that’s freaking amazing! happy pride mont-“

“shut the fuck up. you spew way too much.” chuuya barks before shoving his cock down your throat mid-sentence. you gag and sputter around his length, fuelling his ego.

he grabs ahold a fistful from the back of your head, using your strands to roughly pick you up and back onto his cock. your wrists scramble to his hips and you try to push him back, to whimper that it’s too much and too sudden for you.

“where’s that cocky big girl attitude gone now? you can’t suck a dick? almost makes me feel bad for you.”

you whine and spill muffled complaints but it only fuels him further. it sets chuuya’s veins ablaze, controlling you like this.

you weren’t even sure it would be possible, but he manages to brush his tip against the back of your throat. your vision blurs, tears streaming out from your gag reflex. your nose runs and you can only sniffle constantly. drool and saliva envelopes the underside of his shaft, leaving your chin and some of your neck soaked. you wrinkle and wince your nose at the small stubble that’s slowly beginning to grow back near his base. through your tear stained lashes, you look up at chuuya like the good girl you are, lips wrapped around his dick and all.

“oh you god damn kinky bitch” he hisses out through a whine, features melting in compassion.

in that moment, recollection flashes in his eyes. he slides himself out, and a loud wet slurp fills the room. through your blurry vision and fit of coughing, chuuya grabs the long abandoned chair, spinning the back support until it lands the right way. he takes a seat, cock painfully erect and glistening in the deep orange sunset light.

his slender and pretty long fingers curl in a “come here” motion. his other hand leans into his jaw and he bears a smug grin. the harsh lighting from outside pours in so that only half of his face is visible, even then, you can still make out the fact that he’s about to absolutely fucking ruin you.

“ride me.”

[deathlikesdeep-dish]

“You’re Making Me Wet” (Zoro x Female Reader)

JUST UNDER THE WIRE BUT I FINISHED FOR BAE’S BIRTHDAY. It was not probably my best move to try and start and finish something in an evening, but here we are. A bit rushed, but I hope y’all enjoy this lil fic! I’ve been meaning to write this for a while, (specifically for the One Piece of Summer event) and haven’t gotten around to it. Inspired by the “We Can!” opening where the crew has a water gun fight, and sexy flirtation ensues. 

WARNINGS: cussing as usual, heavy suggestion but no smut! 

Zoro x Female Reader

Word Count: 1960

It was a particularly hot day aboard the Sunny, and the crew was beginning to get a little stir crazy. It would be days, according to Nami, before you all would arrive at the next island, and Luffy’s heavy, bored sigh every ten minutes after he’d ask how much longerrrr was beginning to wear on the entire crew. 

“Goddamn it, Luffy, if I hear you ask that question one more damn time, I’m gonna lose my fucking mind,” Zoro growls from his usual spot.

“Not like there’s much there to lose,” Sanji mumbles under his breath as he walks back to the kitchen, to the great amusement of both Chopper and Usopp, though their laughter is cut short by Zoro’s sharp gaze. 

“Shut up, cook,��� Zoro ground out. 

You giggle quietly, but don’t say anything.

“Boys,” Nami rolls her eyes from next to you. You, Nami and Robin are all lounging in the shade on the deck. 

You look over at Zoro, who has uncharacteristically chosen to shed his usual gear in lieu of swim trunks and a simple white t-shirt. Though this is not out of place, as the entire crew had donned their swim gear after the third straight day of heat, it is still jarring to see the swordsman out of his normal attire. It left much less to the imagination, and made it difficult to concentrate. His brow is still furrowed in annoyance towards Sanji, his lips a thin, tight line. He doesn’t notice that you are staring, which you are grateful for. You are also grateful that both Robin and Nami seem content to occupy themselves with idle chatter. They have been giving you a hard time recently about your sometimes unabashed attraction to the greenette. 

You can see the slight sheen of sweat forming on Zoro’s tanned forearms and at the nape of his neck and as he tilts his head back, your gaze follows the sharp line of his jaw. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, clearly attempting to calm himself down and you can see his facial features beginning to relax. How is it fair for someone to be this attractive, you think bitterly. 

Abruptly, as if Zoro felt your gaze, his eyes open and the flash to yours. They are vigilant at first, cautious, but soften when he realizes that it is you, and not some enemy, that is looking at him. You realize, stupidly, that he has trained his Haki to notice any sort of energies directed towards him, and you could kick yourself for being so careless. 

He smirks a bit, but otherwise does nothing. You flush brightly and look away, turning to ask Nami a question but you find that she is no longer in her spot.

“Hey, where’d Nami go?” You ask Robin.

“I think she went to talk to Luffy about something,” Robin replies vaguely. 

“Oh,” You say, looking around. Luffy, too, has vanished from his normal spot atop the figurehead. 

“Come to think of it,” You say a little more loudly, attracting the attention of the other crew members nearby. “Isn’t a little too quiet?” 

“Huh, you’re right, y/n,” Chopper says. “It is really quiet...” 

Before you can utter another word, you hear the loud yell of your captain from the helm. “Gum-gum….WATER GUN FIGHT.” He leaps onto the deck with a cackle and begins rapidly firing a water gun at Usopp and Chopper.

“Hell yeah! Talk about a super soaker!” Frank yells out, his Franky water cannons emerging from his shoulder pauldrons, primed and ready to go. 

Nami yells out to you and Robin. “Robin, Y/n!” You both look up and see her toss a similar water weapon to each of you with a mischievous grin. You catch it with a loud laugh. 

“Oh, you idiots don’t even know what’s about to happen,” You say evilly, launching up from your chair. 

“Oh yeah?” Usopp challenges, and the battle ensues. Since you joined the Strawhats with Franky in Water 7, you have been through many battles with your nakama. And in some of these, you recall with unpleasantness, you weren’t sure if the crew was going to make it out all in one piece. So, it is with great pleasure that you engage in this battle, one where the only stakes of the loss are cleaning up Sanji’s dinner or helping Chopper get a mat out of his coat. You, along with Robin and Nami, are in immediate opposition to Franky, Chopper, and Usopp. Your captain is, of course, trying to take all of you on at once. 

Sanji is still in the kitchen, probably preparing some sort of fruity drink for the ladies, and Zoro is to the side, being an overall dolt and spoil-sport. He rolls his eyes and crosses his arms over his chest, leaning against the side of the ship as he curls a dumbbell. 

“Nami, my sweet!” Sanji calls out, busting through the door with a tray of drinks, completely unaware of the chaos unfolding. 

“FRANKY SUPER CANNON,” Franky yells, firing a jet of water directly into Luffy. The blast is so powerful, that the Luffy is launched into Sanji, who is then launched into the marimo as he sits with his weights. The three of them are also immediately drenched with water from Franky’s cannon.

“Hey, what the hell!” Zoro barks out, standing up with a menacing glare.

“Stop getting in the way, moss-head! You knocked down my drinks for the lovely ladies!” Sanji replies with equal rage. 

“Why you….” Zoro replies. “Give me a fucking water gun. I’m gonna kick this cook’s ass.” 

“Ha! Not a chance, you couldn’t even touch me, cretin,” Sanji says. 

Luffy is cackling as Franky tosses two more water guns to Zoro and Sanji respectively. 

“Don’t wreck my ship!” Frank yells out with a laugh, as Zoro and Sanji are brought into the fight. The battle continues for a while longer, Zoro wanting desperately to use his swords (aiming a gun was not exactly his strong suit) and Sanji not wanting to use his delicate chef hands too vigorously (my hands are only for cooking and women, he’d say). Zoro, turning his attention away from Sanji, who is being attacked by Luffy and Robin, looks around to find you. You’ve been hiding from him intentionally, knowing that he would show you no mercy. 

“Oh, y/n…” Zoro calls. “Where have you been hiding? Don’t think I’ll let you get away scot-free.” 

Hearing his voice, low and taunting, throws an unexpected pang of desire down your spine. You bite your lip in an effort to remain silent. You know that you hiding is pointless. He could find you in a second with his Haki. He’s teasing you intentionally. Does he know how desperately aroused that this is making you? 

“Got ya,” You hear in your ear from behind you. You jump at the sudden closeness of his voice and yelp a bit. 

“Ugh, Zoro,” You complain, hoping he doesn’t notice how breathless you are. “You’re such an ass,” You turn towards him and meet his gaze. He is much closer than you thought, so when you turn around and look up, your noses nearly touch. He makes no moves to back off, challenging you. You take a step backwards, cursing in your mind, and rip your gaze from his. This is a mistake. Your eyes settle on his torso. The white t-shirt he has been wearing is all but translucent now, soaked with water from the fight. The fabric clings to each line of his chest and abdomen, and even though you’ve seen him shirtless many times before this, there’s something particularly erotic about him being fully clothed and yet so exposed. 

Your lips are parted as you let out a shuddering breath. You take a step back, trying to regain composure, only to find your back against the side of the ship. He is very close. And you have nowhere to go. “Uh,” You stutter. You look up at his face again, which was yet another mistake. You are now close enough to trace the lines of his face with your eyes. You notice, for the first time, how ragged the scar over his left eye actually was. You feel a tinge of sadness, wondering for a long moment how it happened, and hating the thought of him suffering. 

That thought quickly leaves your mind, as he reaches to place a hand on either side of your head, leaning in. “What the problem, y/n?” He teases.

Since when has the socially awkward first mate become so incredibly seductive?! 

“Zoro,” You start, droplets of water from his hair and his arms dripping onto your skin. “You’re making me wet.” You finish without thinking. 

His grin widens and you don’t realize why until you remember the words that had just come out of your mouth. You flush bright red and you bury your hands in your face immediately. 

“Oh my God,” Your words are muffled by your hands. Oh my God, please just fucking kill me now.  

After a moment, you feel warm fingers wrap around your wrists, to pull your hands to the side. You try to ignore the tingling sensation emanating from his touch. 

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to make you wet,” He says slyly. “Let me fix that,” he finishes before stepping back to strip off his shirt. The two of you are far enough away from the rest of the crew to feel particularly vulnerable. Though you know, of course, that Zoro poses no threat to you, you are beginning to feel like your dignity may end up being threatened if you’re not able to get your shit together. 

“Zoro, what are you doing?” You ask in a near whisper.

“Y/n,” He breathes. “You must know that I can sense you.” He looks you directly in the eye, his dark gaze penetrating. “I know your energy. I know when you’re near.” 

You are disarmed, unable to look away. “I’ve trained myself to know. Because I need to know that you’re safe.” You are taken aback, not expecting to hear something so sentimental come out of the swordsman’s mouth. 

“I know when you’re looking at me. I know when you stare. I can sense your heart racing right now,” He continues, leaning in so that his lips barely brush yours. 

“I can sense that you want me in the same way that I want you,” He says finally. 

Wait, what? You think, your mind hazy. He had never once given you any indication that he felt this way. “What did you just say?” You ask.

“I said that I want you.” He replies simply. 

You don’t know what to say. You’d never even allowed yourself to consider the possibility that Zoro may feel something like this for you. 

“You don’t have to answer right now,” He reassures you. “And there’s no rush. I want you to feel comfortable, y/n.” 

Your heart is warmed by the gesture and you are grateful that you are going to be able to have some time to process this information. Nami and Robin are going to lose their shit, you think.

“But y/n,” Zoro says, the same sly tone back in his voice as leans down to your ear. “If I catch you staring at me while I’m shirtless again,” He gently tugs your earlobe between his teeth. You gasp, nearly collapsing. “I make no promises to go slow.” His lips trail to the hollow beneath your ear, and you brace your hands against the wall of the ship. 

“I may be honorable,” He whispers. “But I am a pirate.”

[ziracona]

It’s my Birthday today and I wanted to start it off with updating a fic I’m enjoying writing. Hope you enjoy the read. : )

[Fate Grand Order AU fic] The Kid (pt: 1, ... 8, 9, 10, 11, ?)

----

“Okay so, sorry, I’m still doing a little catch-up,” mutters Robin as we reach another corner and pause. Ahead, Emiya holds up a hand for us to halt and we do.

“Robin, do you have the mana for May King?” I hear Emiya’s voice in my head. Which, I appreciate being looped in on. Kind of thought he was going to be more of a pain to work with just because he could be, but he’s surprisingly practical and easy to work with for the uncooperative introduction we have. He seems real familiar with Robin’s abilities; gotta wonder where and when exactly they did meet—'specially since Robin barely seems to remember him at all.

Unlike me, poor Ritsuka looks like the frequent mental chatter is still something she’s trying to get used to; zones out a little every time someone communicates this way. I get it—took me a while to not be weirded out myself my first time summoned, and that was with the ability coming naturally, since I was a spirit.

“Hold that thought,” whispers Robin to me, then mentally to us all, “Yeah, a few times if it’s short. This important?”

“It’s not a difficult hall,” replies Emiya mentally, “But there’s too many people interacting with their security measures, and we haven’t gotten enough of us free yet. If we can’t disarm the magecraft security system and their personnel at once, someone might stay up just long enough to hit an alarm, and I’d prefer we free as many of us as possible before they figure out what we’re up to, since-“ He almost hesitates, glancing at Ritsuka for a split second, but he doesn’t. “-they might just start to kill them.”

Makes sense. I know it. They have catalysts to get us all back, and we have no idea where those are. I hate it, but he’s right—they’d definitely do it. Pretty sure I see Ritsuka connecting the same dots.

“Roger. I’ll move ahead into position,” says Robin mentally, cracking his neck as he moves up, “Give me about six seconds to find a good vantage point, then I’ll go as soon as I sense mana from you going after the security system.”

“Can we help?” asks Ritsuka worriedly in my head.

“If something goes wrong,” replies Robin telepathically, “Hopefully we won’t need it.” He stands then. “Sorry Mast—Ritsuka. I’m going to take a little bit out of you with this, but it’s only a skill, utilized this way, so it shouldn’t be too bad.” At my side, Robin glances down and gives a nod, then vanishes—not to spirit form, just flat out invisible. God it’s so cool! It always has been. Wish I could vanish like that; be useful as hell when dodging pursuers or trying to get an edge! Wish it was a thing he could teach me, but it don’t work like that—it’s a skill earned in life, and it’s all the thief of the forest’s.

Ahead, Ritsuka’s eyes widen as she watches him vanish, but she follows where I think he might be—she’s connected more than we are to each other, so she probably has a better idea than I do. Honest, it’s weird to have a guess where he is at all; I...don’t think I’ve ever been co-servant to someone before. It’s different, but, I like it. I like having a team. I mean, I’ve had allies before, but this ain’t the same. I can sense Robin a little myself like this, but I gotta wonder just how different it feels to be a master.

Emiya places his hand against the wall and whispers somethin’, and I feel a pulse of mana from him and hear the sudden ‘flishk’ of drawn bow strings releasing and movement, plus one choked, barely audible cry, then several quiet thuds all in rapid succession.

“Clear,” comes Robin’s voice in our heads.

Emiya smiles and steps out, Ritsuka and me behind him, and Robin materializes ahead of us between five guards sprawled unconscious along the ground. Kinda amazed how well we’re doing so far—damn it I’m gonna jinx us, but still! Non-lethal is way harder, and we’re still doing ok.

Looking amazed by the scene, Ritsuka rushes up to Robin. “Wow, that was incredible!” she whispers excitedly, “How do you do that?  —How did you know he could do that?” she adds, turning big eyed to Emiya.

Robin and Emiya share a glance, slightly awkward. Huh, don’t seem like Emiya knows him too well, from the way he’s lookin’ at him; which makes it weirder he knows so much about his skills. Maybe…they fought? They don’t seem hostile to each other at all, but somethin’ like a Holy Grail War, where mages force you to kill each other, God knows I’ve fought my share of people I had no desire to kill and who really had no desire to kill me either. I could see it bein’ somethin’ like that. …Maybe?

“It’s uh, an inherited custom from the Celts,” says Robin, “I picked up some tricks, when I was on the run so much, and I guess it was pretty good, because as a servant, it lets me do that.”

Ritsuka looks at Emiya for his half of an answer.

“...We’ve met,” offers Emiya vaguely.

“Oh,” says Ritsuka in surprise, “So. You and Billy and Robin-?”

“—No, we never met,” I interject, gesturing between me and Emiya.

“Okay, so, different times?” checks Ritsuka, “When-”

“-I don’t mean to be rude,” says Emiya gently, “But we don’t really have time to discuss this.” He gestures to the waiting door and Ritsuka flushes.

“R-right—I’m sorry—it’s just interesting how you all meet and I want to know more—“

“-Hey, don’t worry kid,” says Robin, clapping her on the back, “I’ll tell you anything you want to know later. To answer your question,” he adds casually, moving to the door and drawing back a leg to kick, “I’m not sure about him, but I don’t remember.” With one solid slam from his foot, Robin snaps through the remaining physical lock on the door so it slides open, and in the one second before I’m distracted by what’s inside, I notice Emiya raise an eyebrow. Huh. So you do remember.

I get a glimpse into the room ahead then, and every thought goes out of my head. Except ‘The...hell?’

It’s different. It’s so different. I know it’s only been me and Robin so far, but it’s not the death bed with a withered corpse I expected at all. The spirit in this room is very much alive, and it is furious.

The cell is circular, with more seals carved into and drawn on the floor and walls and ceiling than I can process, and the spirit is dead center of them all, with heavy, bulky, painful looking restraints locked around his feet and forearms, another thick band around his waist and more on his thighs, his neck, his upper arms, each attached to a different heavy chain drawn taut, tugging in opposite directions of each other and making it as close as it can to impossible for him to move at all. He’s got a blindfold on too, also metal and painful looking, and a gag, but he’s not kneeling under the weight of it all like I was, or immobile and weak like Robin; he’s thrashing madly with the tiny, limited movement he has. His head snaps in our direction when we enter, and I hear his muffled, angry shouts even from here. He’s choking himself and ripping at the skin on his arms and legs and neck, but still, he’s fighting—and wildly. In fact, I’m pretty sure the seals around the room are the only thing keeping him captive at all.

It hurts to watch, seeing one of us rip blindly at his restraints, trying to break free like a dog being forced into in a fighting ring. But, I’m also impressed. Astounded. He doesn’t seem scared at all, just angry, and there’s something reassuring about it. ‘Specially since he’s short too.

“Huh,” says Emiya, the same look on his face I figure is on mine, and is definitely on Ritsuka. She snaps out of it first though, and starts to rush toward the blinded spirit, then hesitates because we’ve all balked too.

“...Can’t one of you break the locks? Like for Robin?” asks Ritsuka worriedly, half-turning to face us.

“Probably, but we don’t know what happens if we step in the circle,” explains Emiya, indicating the etchings above, below, and all around us.

“Yeah, I don’t speak mage runes, but I’m pretty sure that says some version of ‘if you’re a heroic spirit, get fucked,‘ ’cause I can feel that from here. —I got you though,” I add quickly, “move a little left and I’ll shoot one from here.” Thank God for long ranged skills! Both of the others seem chagrined I’m the first to think of this; can’t decide if I should be proud, or insulted by that.

Ritsuka hops to the side, and I aim, but I hesitate again with my gun drawn. The man in front of me is blinded and I don’t think he can hear well, because he ain’t reacted to anything we’ve said—only our presence—and he’s flipped out. If I free him, he might lash out, and Ritsuka is closer than we are. I’d rush in, of course, but I have no idea if stepping in that circle would paralyze me.

“Hey Boss—Partner?” I correct, lowering my gun just a little, “I don’t think he can hear well with that thing on his head. He’s panicked and angry—might be a bad idea to cut him loose without explaining who we are. Even if he don’t attack us, he’s probably gonna make a lot of noise, and we don’t need that.”

“Oh,” says Ritsuka, looking from him to me. Ahead, the spirit lunges in our direction with a fury I understand and makes me pretty sure I’m right that he has no idea who we are.

“Think you can calm him down? I could shout from here, but we don’t wanna he heard, and you probably got a better shot anyway. Not sure how much he can hear, but he’s gotta be able to hear a little, since he seems to know where we are without his eyes. Try talking to him—let him know we’re here to help ‘fore I break him free?” I suggest.

“Uhm,” she says, looking from him to me, “I’ll try.”

I feel bad immediately, seeing the moment of fear in her before she moves forward, so I take another step, close as I can get without hitting the circle, and call after her, “Don’t worry! Promise; he makes a move to hurt you, I’ll stop him before he even gets close; easy shot from here, ‘n I’m a crack shot—I won’t miss. ‘N don’t worry—won’t hurt him too much, either,” I add with a wink.

She glances back and smiles at me, worry mostly evaporated, and I grin back.

“Okay,” she whispers to herself, and then she turns to the bound figure up ahead.

He hears her coming, and there’s a muffled scream of rage from him as he tears at the chains holding him back. We’re not any of us an easy thing to contain, and I can sense how much he knows it, how furious and how ready to make whoever did this pay.

Beside me, I sense movement and out of the corner of my eyes, and I make out Robin and Emiya both moving, Emiya first, materializing a bow and readying a shot like I am, Robin doing the same with an arrow on his crossbow, but pivoting to keep an eye behind us, on the hall. Bases covered.

Carefully, Ritsuka takes another step, edging closer. About fifteen feet from him now in the big room. He definitely knows where she is—even blindfolded, his head moves with her and he thrashes in her direction as threateningly as he can like he is. The restraints on his legs and arms are bulky, so I can’t see his hands or feet, but the places they end on his forearms and calves are bleeding from his attempts to rip free.

“I-it’s okay,” says Ritsuka, taking another careful step over one of the taut chains, and putting her hands up calming and nonthreateningly as she proceeds moving closer. He can’t see her, but of course she still is. “It’s alright. We a-”

The spirit uses his neck to rip the chain around it back with all his might, and I realize almost too late it’s the one she’s just now carefully stepping over.

I can’t think of a way to stop it long-distance, so I bolt. The second my foot goes over the first seal though, I feel an intense amount of mana hit me, and I knew it was coming, but it’s SO much worse than I expect, and I can’t move. It’s so much. It’s agonizing, like being hit with a bolt of lightning! The hell kind of seal-! Fuck! I—can move, damn it! I will!

I can! I can. I just... It takes immense effort, but I feel my muscles starting to move. I’m gonna be way too late—I should— 

Arm throbbing with pain, I drag my hand up to level a shot as the chain snaps into her leg and she yelps and pivots forward. If he has a real plan and some way to grab her, least I can shoot him first, but something closes around the back of my vest and I’m flung backwards with force onto the safe ground outside.

“Idiot!” calls Emiya irritated over his shoulder, “You don’t have the magic resistance of an Archer! Stay out there!”

He’s...right, but. Even Robin and he shouldn’t...?

How is he doing that?

It’s been less than two seconds and he’s already there. He barely even lost steam throwing me. I-I am watching him shoot to her side with such speed I could almost swear he teleported, through a bounded field. He catches Ritsuka like it’s nothing while she’s still in the air, and rights her as she yelps in surprise, then jumps and flings himself back out of range of the circle, landing just outside it far on the right side with a little wince and a grimace. I gape at him from on the ground. It did hurt then, doing that. The field—It did hit him. He just...got through? The hell kind of magic resistance you got? I know Archer’s a knight class and that gets you some, but...

This is something else. I don’t know what. I-I didn’t think any of us could move in there, once I felt it; that can’t just be magic resistance can it? But it’s something. I want to ask, but I know it’s not the time. He glances at me though, after making sure Ritsuka is fine and giving her a nod when she checks over his should to see if everything is okay and she should keep going, and I realize to my surprise I’m pretty sure he’s doing the same with me—checking in to see I’m okay. I manage a nod as well.

“You okay?” asks Robin from behind me.

“Yeah,” I answer. My gun’s been leveled the whole time, but I’m only now remembering to get to my feet again, and do, eyes on the chained spirit the whole time, “Those things always sting, but it ain’t as bad as some other recent memories.”

I kind of expect Robin to say something back, but he doesn’t, so I turn 100% of my attention to the people in the middle of the room.

“It’s okay!” tries Ritsuka again, facing the bound spirit but hesitating to move forward out there now, “Please stop fighting us! I’m not an enemy; we’re trying to help you, I swear!”

I don’t feel a change in the atmosphere at all—the spirit is still radiating anger—but he stops tearing at his bindings for a moment when she speaks and just stands there breathing hard, blindfolded eyes turned towards her and blood running down his neck and limbs.

“Thank you,” says Ritsuka, smiling and holding up a hand in thanks with the word even though he can’t see it, before moving forward again, “If you just listen, I-I can explain—I promise, we’re not here to hurt you. We aren’t with the people who locked you up. We broke in here to try and help. Everyone but me in here is another heroic spirit, and we’re all trying to help you—help all the spirits trapped in here!”

The man stays still and tilts his head slowly, considering her. Mistrustful, I think, like I was. But he’s hopeful, or desperate, too—not sure why they’d send her to lie, which is enough to make you hope.

“I-I’m gonna get a little closer now, okay?” says Ritsuka, edging towards him again, “And see if I can get any of those chains off you. The others can probably do it if I can’t, but they’re all spirits so they’re having a hard time getting past the uh—the seals.”

He tilts his head back upright and then the other way, and tracks her movement by sound as she gets closer. The guy is still breathing heavy and clearly on edge, but he lets her get close this time. 

When she reaches him, Ritsuka holds her hand up. I don’t think he’s going to lash out, but I don’t trust like that—‘specially knowing the pressure he’s under firsthand—and so I keep my gun trained on his shoulder.

“I’m gonna touch you, okay? To see if I can figure out how this is fastened. P-Please don’t hit me.”

She stutters nervously on that last line, and I see just a little of the tension in the man’s shoulders loosen. Interesting. I guess that means whoever he is, he ain’t the most hardened sort, if he’s feelin’ empathy for a stranger while trapped like that.

Ritsuka moves a little to the side for a better look and touches the back of the shackle blinding him, and he flinches and pulls away a half-inch on impulse, breathing quickening for a second, then goes still again. This must be agonizing for him.

“Really is okay!” I call out in a hushed voice, even though like that he probably can’t hear me. I can’t risk drawing security, but-

Emiya side-eyes me for a second. I can’t tell if the look is annoyed or amused. Guess it don’t matter.

“Okay—it’s pretty simple. Just a little bolt again,” says Ritsuka in relief. I hear a metallic ‘click’ and then she’s pulling the metal blindfold off him, and there’s a fairly young man—maybe early 30s at a guess—looking back at her then. He’s not very bulky, and taller than me, but not tall, kinda long and shaggy green hair, and a face I don’t recognize at all with red marks all over it where the metal bit in, a few little trickles of blood runnin’ down his forehead and cheekbones from it. The most notable thing though is the expression on his face. He registers Ritsuka’s form as she lowers the blindfold and his eyes go wide. The man blinks at her a few times, then quickly looks up, clocks me and Robin and Emiya, seems relieved, and looks back questioningly at Ritsuka. Almost all of his readiness to lash out has vanished in an instant.

“Hi,” says Ritsuka, smiling at him, “I’m Ritsuka Fujimaru. Nice to meet you. Thank you for not hitting me.”

The man blinks again, and gives her a little nod. I see more of his tension ease. 

“I’m really sorry this happened to you. We’re here to help—those two were stuck here too.” She pauses to point to me and Robin, and I give him a little hat tip, Robin a two-fingered wave in acknowledgement.

Our Master—I mean partner—friend? —Ritsuka, she looks down at some of the other oddly bulky shackles, and then back up at the now much more calmly waiting man. I’m trying to guess who he could be. We had letter, earring, kunai, and a pot, according to her, ‘long with my and Robin’s catalysts. He’s definitely not Asian—looks maybe...middle eastern, Semitic? Not sure though. Either way, I’m willing to bet he’s not the kunai, so that leaves broken pot, earring, and letter. None of which help much. I don’t have a good guess, and that’s only if they haven’t gotten more since Ritsuka saw catalysts anyway, but, whoever he is, he seems level-headed and decent at least, so I’m takin’ this all so far as a good sign.

“The ones on your arms and legs have real locks, so I’m not sure I can get them—I’ll have to have one of the guys shoot them off from outside the circle,” says Ritsuka, looking sorry. 

I look at Robin and Emiya, because what I got’s loud; the two of them exchange looks, and Emiya sighs and turns to study the chains for a second, then summons a long, thin…arrow? and draws.

“But let me get the gag first—I think I can get that too,” says Ritsuka smiling at the man as she reaches up to do it. Much less on his guard now, he stoops for her to make it easier to reach, still watching her carefully though. Or, actually, interested more than careful, maybe, at second glance. Huh. Very level-headed man.

The gag makes a snap sound, and Ritsuka pulls it off. Relieved, the man opens his mouth and kind of rolls his jaw, trying to get the taste of it out, then straightens back up and smiles at Ritsuka. “Well thank you very much, for that and the rescue.”

Unbelievably calm. But I don’t think he’s being fake—he’s just got some kinda personality.

“Where did you come from, Miss...Fujimaru, yes?” he asks, and she nods, “How did someone as young as you end up-” he tries to gesture, immediately hits already taut chain, and winces, “-here?”

“Wrong, or, right, depending on how you look at it, place at the right time,” answers Ritsuka.

He’s definitely curious, but he just gives a nod of acknowledgement.

“Oh—before you do that,” she says to Emiya, then turns back to the man, “Uhm, you’re probably connected to the building somehow, and if we break those, you’ll run out of mana. Or. You aren’t actually that hurt,” she adds like she’s only just now really thinking about it, “But you’ll still vanish pretty fast if we sever your connection to mana, won’t you?”

“Yes and no,” says the man, clearly surprised by how much she has figured out, “You’re right they somehow altered the contracts to let the technology itself provide us with mana, and we can break the contracts physically, like you would killing a Master, by breaking the machine.”

“Why?” she asks, lost.

“They want to sell us. This makes us easily transportable, and it’s not like a mage could support one of us alone outside a ritual easily anyway,” says the man, a bit of that earlier rage and spite sinking back into his tone. He refocuses on Ritsuka and smiles again. “But I’m an Archer, so I can survive for a little bit on my own—week or two—without an anchor, since I’m not in terrible shape.”

“Another fucking Archer?” asks Robin without thinking, almost affronted disbelief in his voice and his face when I turn to look and see him gaping.

Wait.

“Oh shit, he’s right! Did they only take Archers? Why??” I ask.

“That is almost upsetting somehow,” says Emiya thoughtfully, “They didn’t summon me, but two and a half out of six of you so far is still super weird.”

“You’d think we’d be less good picks, since we can survive so long on our own. They should be grabin’ Casters or somethin’,” I agree in confusion.

“Wait, all three of you are Archers?” asks the man.

“I’m a gunner,” I say like ‘kind of’ while Robin says “Yeah,” with irritation and Emiya says, “I guess.”

“That is weird,” says the man to Ritsuka, “but I don’t think we have time to discuss it. Their security might not be perfect, but they aren’t idiots.”

She nods. “Uhm, okay. Well, in that case, I guess you don’t need to contract right now to be okay, but if you’d like to—to help you fight better or without worrying about disappearing, you can contract with me—if you want.”

His expression is one of a man hearing something that made complete sense until suddenly it made absolutely none at all. “...C. ...You? But.” He looks over at the rest of us, then back at her, “are none of the others...? -You know, outside a ritual, even a strong mage will be exhausted by that?”

“Oh, I know,” says Ritsuka quickly, nodding, “I’m not good at magic yet, and can’t do almost any spells, but my circuits are weird and apparently I have such a massive pool of mana I can support multiple heroic spirits on my own without a grail or anything!”

He stares at her like that straight up can’t compute. Blinks slowly. Looks at us.

“Yeah,” I say. She looks so proud of herself. It makes me happy! And weirdly proud too.

“It’s true,” agrees Robin, “Got no idea how many she can carry, but we’re three so far, and she hasn’t slowed down a bit.”

“Wow,” says the man, looking back at her with big eyes, “That’s quite a skill.” He considers for a moment and then smiles to himself. “Todah,” he says quietly, almost fondly, and then, “What a blessing; God never ceases to surprise. I will happily take you up on your offer Ba’al, I accept.” He gives a little, awkward and slightly painful looking bow as best he can still bound. “My true name is David, and I am an Archer. Pleased to meet you.”

“Oh,” says Ritsuka, surprised and flattered. She flushes and holds out a hand, then realizes he can’t take one the way it is. He smiles at her and bows his head forward instead, resting it against her outstretched fingers. “Uhm.” She takes a second to find her footing. “My soul becomes your will, your spirit becomes my destiny. If you hear me and agree, accept me and join, Archer.”

It’s softer than I’ve heard her say it before. Funny how many ways I’ve heard it now. Desperate, to me, afraid of losing me. Intense and pleading, to Emiya, begging for help. Kind and intent and sincere to Robin. And now here, soft and happy. I got no idea why that’s all so significant to me, but it is. I feel like I’m gonna remember it. I hope I will.

…I…

….Haven’t thought about that for a while, but now that the thought’s there, my gut sinks and my heart with it.

I might not. …So often, the Throne won’t let us remember anything from a summon once we die and get dragged back to it. God only knows how many Ritsukas I didn’t want to forget as bad as I don’t wanna forget this now, and don’t even get to know to be sad I can’t remember.

I hate that thought. ...

In the center of the room, a light flashes from Ritsuka’s hand at the point of connection, and I can feel a faint attachment of my own to David now. Try to focus on that instead. On how odd it feels to be under the same master as someone else, but not bad—just so different, in a way it’s hard to really get over.

David, he said? Right—which David? WAIT.

“David?” I ask way too fast, interrupting this beautiful moment without thinking, my mind completely blank outside of one sudden fear, “Wait, which David who’s an Archer—you’re not-?”

He looks over surprised and then gives me a kind of sheepish smile. “King David of Israel. Son of Jesse and Nitzevet, father of Solomon, my successor.”

Oh my God. Oh God; fuck—I’m so glad I didn’t shoot him.

Emiya is taking this in stride, but Robin looks at least a little something, and Ritsuka’s eyes have gone huge. “You’re a king? Wait. You’re from. -” She’s floundering, so I step in to save her.

“-King David? I—Hi, Billy the Kid; I’m so honored to meet you! I never met a Biblical-uhh-T-Torah-ical,” shit now I’m floundering worse god damn it; I was trying I—I just never seen someone from the...th-the actual religion that—I practice, before—I.

Totally nonplussed, King David shakes his head dismissively with a smile. “I know what you mean; pleased to meet you all. Please though, just call me David. My days as a King are long past, and on the Throne, I have been called to serve others again. I was a shepherd before I was a king, and I have always been the both. Think of me as just another companion, because right now, it’s who I am.”

“Whoa,” says Ritsuka, still a little pale and in awe, “Th-thank you. Okay, David. I-It’s great to meet you too. —I’m so sorry! What am I doing?! -Emiya, can you?” She glances over and sees his bow drawn, nods, and hops out of his way. 

King David glances at Emiya, then holds perfectly still, and the archer draws a quick series of shots that tear through the restraints nearly simultaneously in a little shower of sparks and screeching metal. Some kinda style; don’t think I’ve ever seen someone shoot what was clearly swords just now off a bow string before. Huh. Who are you?

The chains fall away, and King David raises his arms and looks at his hands, flexes them, and takes in the bruising and lacerations on his body from trying to get free.

“I’ll try to heal you,” offers Ritsuka, stepping up to him. He glances over at her. “I’m still learning, so I’m not sure I can fix it all, but I’m sure I can help!”

He smiles and gives a nod, stoops a little and offers her his arms. She takes them in her hands, scrunches her face up and shuts her eyes, and I sense a quick, small pulse of mana. It’s amazing how much she picked up in one night. I’m kinda in awe, watchin’ the worst bruises fade, and the cuts that are still bleeding close up and start to heal. It ain’t perfect, like me, like Robin, but it’s a hell of a lot, and King David looks pleased and maybe a little impressed himself.

“Thank you, Ba’al,” says King David, “I’m good to go now.”

Ritsuka opens her eyes and beams at him. She’s sweating a little again from the effort, but it ain’t bad. She’s holdin’ up like a champ so far. “Great!” she says, “Let’s get moving, then!” She takes a step and spins right back around back to face King David. “—Oh. Can you walk out okay? Do I need to carry you?”

Kind David looks incredibly tickled by that offer, but he shakes his head. “I’ve got extremely good magic resistance, even for an Archer—I’d love to get out of this seal now though—it’s quite agonizing.” Without extra comment, he slides his hands under her armpits and lifts her up, then speed single-hops right out of the seal, like Emiya did, and sets her down gently. 

“Oh—uh—thanks,” says Ritsuka, surprised but not bothered, “okay—sorry for taking so long,” she adds to us three, “Let’s get to the next one!”

Emiya gives a nod and moves to take point again, motioning us after.

“Question,” says Robin quietly as we slide out into the hall, watching King David’s surprised and little else expression as he takes in the unconscious guards, “I’m uh, really glad for you that you weren’t on death’s door like us—don’t get me wrong—but I thought that was their whole thing. Why were you just kind of...imprisoned? It’s a weird break of form. Might be significant.”

“Oh, that,” says David, “it is a break of form, but it’s not very significant, except I guess as proof they’re not exactly the most seasoned of field mages, no matter how much money, staff, and technical skill they have. They didn’t know which King they were going to get, summoning me. Just the general power of the catalyst—guess they got it not very legally, even for a catalyst. And unfortunately for them, I’m not a great candidate for death-battery-whatever they’re doing, because I died peacefully in my sleep as an old man.”

“The dream,” I say just loud enough for only Robin next to me to hear, and he shoots me a barely restrained smile.

“So then,” continues Robin, “Why keep you? Dangerous to leave one of us alive and motivated to rip shit apart.”

“Mmm,” agrees King David with a nod, “But they weren’t going to keep me. They were going to sell me, contract and all, to the highest bidder. Contacted a lot of mage groups.”

Ritsuka looks so horrified hearing that. It’s sweet, and a little sad, because Robin and I aren’t even surprised by it. It’s not really even odd; it makes sense. That’s how mages act, and that’s how we get treated.

“Any idea who or what for?” asks Robin.

“Hey,” comes Emiya’s voice in our heads, “Uh ahead. Sensing a containment field like the rest, but no guards at all this time.”

“That’s...weird,” says Ritsuka back mentally. She keeps closing her eyes to talk in her head when she starts, and it’s endearingly funny to watch. “I mean...I don’t want to jinx us, but hasn’t this all been...too easy? When I got Billy out, I had a huge explosion and the element of surprise, and no tripped alarms and a working pass, and I still barely got out. Here they’re already on high alert, and we’ve freed three heroic spirits now, and they’re not guarding the rest or checking their rooms?”

Huh. I mean, I’m not as familiar as she is with building security, but she’s right that they’ve been...weirdly placed.

“Yes,” agrees Emiya, tone firm, “it is strange. There are a lot of armed people here, and security, but even with all the luck in the world, it’s almost unbelievable they haven’t pinpointed us yet, and we haven’t hit more security. It’s like...”

“...A trap?” I ask nervously.

“...No,” says Emiya out loud as we all reach a corner and pause together, “It’s like someone’s helping us.”

“What?” says Ritsuka, taken aback.

“There’s too many people weirdly scattered for it to feel like a trap,” says Emiya, “It’s more like watching moves on a shogi board where someone is trying very hard to make sure they lose. The pieces are all here, they just keep...being in the wrong place at the wrong time, or, sure not being in the right one anyway.”

“Nobody helped you before, right?” I ask.

Ritsuka shakes her head.

Considering, King David tilts his head and lets out low ‘hmmmm,’ then says, “…There are people here right now, for me.”

“Hm?” says Robin.

“Other mage groups—their representatives. Rivals, some of them. To bid. It’s possible, not sure, but, someone might be grabbing this opportunity for a little self-serving corporate espionage.”

“God willing,” says Robin, cracking his neck again, “Love it if some selfish spineless little prick picked now to do something that helps us. Enemy of my enemy, and all.”

“That seems plausible, but since we can’t be sure, I know there’s no point saying ‘stay alert’ when we all already are, but, be ready for something to go wrong. It might,” says Emiya, and then he grimaces like ‘maybe shouldn’t have said that,’ looks at Ritsuka, and says, “it also might not. Just pays to prepare.”

She nods, and we all turn to face the hall. Emiya places his hand on the wall again and I feel a faint pulse of mana from him.

“Yup, definitely a servant up ahead. One floor up, almost directly above us. ‘Bout one room further,” says Emiya, pointing, “We can take the elevator shaft—probably less likely to draw attention than destroying the floor, and if we do have someone helping us with some corporate espionage or just a really incompetent new security staff, let’s not make it hard on them to keep going.”

[blxxdyvalentine19xx]

Headcannon: If Mod Sun, MGK, YungBlud, and Rook used OnlyFans.

Thank you to @triplexdoublex for the idea 😅 also thank you for hyping up my sometimes wild ideas.

Mod Sun: As mellow as Mod seems, let’s admit he’d be on the downlow and so have an OnlyFans. Absolutely no shame whatsoever.  Mod would be chill about it and not give a shit what others thought about it. We’ve seen him talk up the industry before and we know he respects it. OnlyFans is valid and has been beneficial for the sex work industry because of the panedmic. He’s sex positive and gets it, like he understands why people do it. Let’s be real, he could make bank if he was on there, he’s gorgeous and damn...i’d pay if i had the money and he used OF. He also would be kind of vanilla about it, but just the same it would work in his favour. The way he sassed out B*lla for that stunt she pulled, my god that was hot. The first time I saw Mod shirtless, I damn near died, like he’s daddy as fuck in my eyes. He’s no Tom Hanks (don’t judge me) but damn. 

Pete Davidson: Now Pete would be like “awe hell no!” He’s got SNL to worry about. He wouldn’t discredit anyone who benefits from the platform, I think he’d be the type to say “to each their own” he’d be chill with people using it as income, but to do it himself I don’t think he’d have the self security enough to do something like that. Not a dig at him at all, he just seems like the type that lets his insecurities get to him.  I mean his most consistent joke is the 9|11 one. Our boy is way too traumatized to do it. 

Machine Gun Kelly: Okay, C’mon there’s no question he’d do it. Yeah he got his dig at the OF business in his freestyle of Jack Harlow’s “What’s Poppin” but he’d be into it, he’s kinky as fuck, plus his hands are Only Fans material at their finest. I hate feet but his feet are nice and he would probably make out well with selling photos of his feet. I could see him not being into the idea of using OF at first but would end up doing it after all. Plus he’s hot as fuck! As sex positive and open as he is it makes sense that he’d be on there is he wasn’t a musician\rapper.  

YungBlud: Yungblud is just soft and adorable to be honest. He’d be someone’s obsession if he were on there, like him in skirts, him in crop tops, etc. He could fuck shit up with Only Fans, he’s gourgeous and we know he knows it, he’d use the fact that he looks like an a+ submissive brat to his advantage. This might be my fantasy talking here but him in collars and leather would be the absolute death of me. I can only imagine how he’d be into it and flaunting it. ALSO I could see Mod and Colson going all dad mode on him for it and be like “what the fuck are you doing boy?” He’d out bank them any day with it.

Rook Cappelletty: I’m not 100% sure how I’d feel if he were on OF, Rook is my weakness, that tight little body and his arms, my god he makes me thirsty! (unapologetically). I can imagine he’d be on the DL. He give me major body envy even as short as he is (I’m a 5″1 trans guy). He’s fine as fuck though, my weakness for drummers aside. Only Fans would be his dirty little secret or some shit like that, I could see him being so flustered if one of the guys came across him on there. (this one is a guilty pleasure)