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reinekes-fox · 5 days

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REQUESTS OPEN OMG EVERYONE CHEERED. hi i was thinking.. what if… hmm.. what if.. guardian angel y/n x connor lassiter where in unwind instead of lev saving him after the happy jack explosion its y/n. (they kiss at the end PLEase)

ANYWAYS ILY u survived exams i’m so proud !

'angel ex machina ' - connor lassiter

masterlist

They find Connor Lassiter staring at a billboard. He’s slumped against a wall, eyes hollow and vacant, like nothing in this world could possibly be more fascinating than a couple hundred square feet of boastful advertising. The bright colors seem to laugh at him, tantalizingly out of reach from where he crouches now, separated from the rest of the world by the walls of a harvest camp.

We have guardian angels! Low prices, high protection!

Even if Connor somehow managed to piece together enough cash for their exorbitant prices, it’s obvious that a guardian angel would be wasted on him. Connor is days away from his own unwinding. Not even a real guardian angel could pull him out now, let alone the vapid models in suits they’ve got bedazzling that billboard. Everyone knows you can’t actually hire a guardian angel. They just show up somehow, save your ass however many times you need it, then disappear. There, then gone. Intrinsically a part of your life, and then it’s like you’d never known them at all.

Guardian angels are extraordinarily rare. The closest Connor’s ever come to meeting one is hearing a story his dad used to tell, and even then, Kirk Lassiter had only briefly glimpsed one of his neighbors getting saved from a car accident by one of the angels. Not exactly a core memory for Connor. His mom had never seen one at all.

That’s the way it usually goes. There aren’t that many guardian angels in the world. Rare things, they are. Somehow, they decide that a person is important enough to save, and then they swoop in and do what they do best. That’s usually saving them from disasters– floods, tornadoes, you name it. There’s an iconic photograph of a guardian angel rescuing someone from a burning building that Connor sees annually in his textbooks; something about the wings silhouetted against the flames is irresistible to school publishers. Hayden swears that he heard about somebody who got a guardian angel to do their taxes, but Connor figures that’s another of the boy’s bad jokes. Guardian angels are for real problems, not tax fraud.

Hell, no one even knows what guardian angels look like. There are photographs, sure, but they always turn out strangely blurry, like when the sun’s too bright outside and all you can do is squint. Even the people who’ve seen guardian angels say that their memories faded oddly quickly after the incident. No one can decide if they look like people, if their wings always appear, if they’re even recognizable as guardian angels at all. The only thing the masses can agree on is that guardian angels do exist, and they’ll never be good enough for anyone.

Least of all Connor. He’s harbored a hope that he’d get to meet one at some point, obviously, everyone has. Imagining that you’d be important enough to warrant an angel sent to watch over you is everyone’s secret fantasy.

Connor’s a few hours away from getting unwound, though, so he’s pretty sure that dream will die like the rest of his: unwanted, unclaimed, unfulfilled. He’ll go to pieces as yet another boy who dreamed of being great, another poor soul ignored by the angels. The only difference is that, unlike most of the teenage population, he’s not even mediocre enough to live past sixteen. He’ll be in parts by tomorrow. Then, who knows? Maybe his elbow will go to a kid worthy of an angel. Connor wasn’t, but maybe his unwound pieces will be.

Connor shakes his head slightly to rid himself of the thoughts. He’s not usually like this. He’s not a quitter. He’ll go under the knife protesting his unwinding. It’s just a little difficult to keep up the fighting spirit when he knows that at last, despite all his running and hiding, he’ll be unwound anyway. There’s no fighting the Juvenile Authority. All his great efforts just delayed the inevitable. It cuts him to say it, but it looks like they were right after all.

In an attempt to get his mind out of obviously dangerous waters, Connor rips his gaze away from the offending billboard and glances around him. Only now does he notice another future unwind drawing close to him. Connor stretches and stands, forcing the corners of his mouth to upturn slightly so Y/N, his closest friend here and only ally among the cops and lambs to slaughter, don’t think he’s totally deranged.

“What are you doing?” Y/N asks, coming to a stop by his side.

Connor shrugs listlessly. “Nothing. Drafting my will.”

With anyone else, he’d probably stay silent, but Connor learned a long time ago that trying to hold his tongue around Y/N L/N is a losing game. They met in the basement of Sonia’s antique shop, Y/N having arrived barely a few minutes after Connor and Risa. Talk about a coincidence. They quickly hit it off, and as proof of their friendship, they’ve even ended up at the same harvest camp after it all went south back at the Graveyard.

If Connor were trapped with anyone, though, he’s glad it’s them. Not even Hayden can make Connor laugh as much as he does with Y/N. They understand him in a way that no one else ever has. If he were feeling particularly stupid, he would call it love, but Connor knows better. They’re both about to get stripped to pieces. If he spills his guts now and they friendzone him, Connor will have ruined the best part of his life for nothing.

So he stays silent, and watches Y/N laugh at his joke. “I want your car after they unwind you,” they inform him. “Maybe even the house.”

Connor pretends to be outraged. “Both? That’s absurd.”

Y/N snorts. “Who else would you give them to? The tithe?” Then, in a quieter voice, they glance towards the billboard Connor was staring at, and add on, “Maybe an angel?”

Connor sighs. “They can’t sell real guardian angels. No amount of flashy billboards can hide that.”

Y/N nods. “You’re still tempted, though?”

Connor lifts a shoulder. “Who wouldn’t be tempted? The idea is great. I’d love for someone to save me right now. Or maybe just care enough to try.”

“I care,” Y/N offers.

Connor gives them a wry smile. “I know you do. But you’re stuck in the same mess as I am, so maybe I’ll hold off on believing in your escape plan until you’re out, too.”

Y/N looks at him for a second, too deep for Connor to understand, then cracks a grin. “You should believe in me, Lassiter. I’m tunneling out from under the dorms with just a spoon. I might make it halfway to Florida by the time we get the unwind order.”

Connor scoffs. “That only works in movies. You’d need a miracle to break through an inch of concrete, let alone all the way past the borders.”

Y/N smiles at him, a little secretively, a little knowingly. “I’m pretty good with miracles.”

“Sure you are,” Connor says, stretching his arms to rid himself of an unpleasant pinch in his muscles. “Any chance you can whip one up to save me from my impending doom?”

He isn’t expecting Y/N to respond, obviously, but when their face drops at the sight of something approaching behind him, Connor knows it’s not just from his lack of belief. “I’d have to make it quick, wouldn’t I?” They mutter under their breath.

Connor turns around to see a squad of Juvey-cops bearing down on him. He swears under his breath. “This is it, right? They’re going to take me away?”

Y/N’s face looks ashen and wrong. “I should have saved you. “

“We should have saved each other,” Connor corrects gently. Usually, he isn’t the sentimental type, but as the guards get closer, he can’t resist the urge to lean closer to Y/N and whisper to them, “Hey, I’m glad for the time we had, alright? It meant– It meant a lot to me. You know. If I was going to talk to anyone on my last day, I would have wanted it to be you anyway.”

Y/N sucks in a breath. “Don’t say that.”

Connor stares at them. “Why not? It’s true.”

Y/N looks like they want to argue– why, Connor isn’t sure, but the guilt in their eyes is like nothing he’s ever seen before– but before they can say a word, the Juvey-cops close in around him, cutting Connor off from Y/N like slamming a door in their face. They give him the usual speech about how it’s time for him to be unwound, but Connor can’t find it within himself to pay attention. It’s so typical of him, honestly, to be zoning out during what may be his last hour whole, but all he can think about is Y/N, who disappears into the distance as the cops drag him away, Y/N, who he’s now left here alone, Y/N, who will join him in this fate not long from now.

Connor doesn’t want to be unwound. Obviously. He doesn’t want this, and the sheer force of his not wanting overwhelms him as they lead him closer and closer to the doors of the Chop Shop. A crowd of other unwinds has gathered by the door; apparently the final moments of the Akron AWOL make for some good entertainment. The band is playing. Connor wants to run, run far and fast like he always does, but for the first time in his life he realizes how pointless it is. If he tried to flee, they would catch him. They would drag him back, and it would be like nothing ever happened. There is no way this day ends with anything but Connor in pieces.

Connor forces his legs to move him mechanically towards the Chop Shop entrance. Just before the darkness of the place swallows him whole, something tells Connor to glance over his shoulder one last time and he sees Y/N staring at him beseechingly. He doesn’t know how he’s able to spot them so easily in the crowd, but he can. Like he would know them anywhere. Like doing anything but looking at them is impossible.

Then the guards shove him into the Chop Shop, and Y/N is gone, replaced by the dark certainty of Connor’s unwinding. The hallway seems to stretch out forever, but before Connor can take even one more step, a few very confusing things happen all at once.

First: there’s this shift in the air. Connor can’t describe it. It feels strange and wrong, burning on his tongue like electricity. The hairs on the back of his neck stand up, and Connor knows at once that something is about to go wrong.

Second: the room erupts in fire and smoke. The bone-rattling boom of the explosion comes later, a little delayed, but Connor sees the white flash of heat and light first. He’s knocked off of his feet, and time seems to slow down. The entire world is gone, replaced only by Connor, floating hazily through the smoky air, and the blossom of fire around him, searing off everything else.

Third, and most confusing of all: out of nowhere, Y/N is right in front of him. Y/N, yes, but Y/N different somehow. It takes him a moment to realize why. Their eyes glow white, brighter even than the explosion, and their skin is radiating off this cool, pearlescent light. He has no idea how they could have possibly gotten in front of him so fast. He has no idea how they’re seemingly immune to the heat and force of the explosion around them.

Y/N reaches for him, pulling Connor into their arms. Their head presses against his, and they whisper quietly, forcefully, “Be safe, Connor.”

The command reverberates through Connor’s entire body. He doesn’t even remember hitting the ground, and when the explosion clears, he’s– He’s fine, actually. Nothing hurts. When Connor stares at his body, he’s utterly unharmed. Not even a scratch on his skin. He is totally untouched by the explosion that has just decimated the entirety of the Chop Shop.

Connor looks around him and realizes that Y/N is sitting in front of him. They’re both on the grass outside the Chop Shop, although he doesn’t remember getting there. Y/N is unharmed also, although Connor can say for certainty that there is still something wrong about them. It takes him a moment to get his scattered thoughts in order, and then he remembers. Y/N’s eyes wink pearlescent at him from a few paces away, and he knows.

“You’re a guardian angel,” Connor stammers out.

Y/N nods. “I am.”

Easy as that. They say it like it’s nothing. Like Connor hasn’t just had his life saved by a supernatural being currently sitting criss-cross applesauce in front of him on the waving grass. He’s had a lot of time to wonder what it would be like to meet a guardian angel, but it never would have occurred to him that one would have been in his life this entire time without him knowing.

Connor stares unseeingly at them. Try as he might, he can’t force himself to believe that Y/N is anything other than, well, Y/N. His friend. His best friend. The person he’s been crushing on since they stumbled into him by accident in the dark of Sonia’s basement. He remembers the flighty beat of their heartbeat when they were in his arms then, and he remembers what it felt like when they embraced him again in the smothering heat of the Chop Shop inferno. All Y/N. All an angel.

“You were trying to save me,” he begins, then stops. That really sums it up.

“I was,” Y/N agrees. “It was always about you, Connor.”

The idea doesn’t compute to him. “Then why wait until now to save my life? Why not make sure the Juveys never found us out in the first place?”

Y/N tilts their head to the side, considering this. “The job of a guardian angel is to save their primary assignment, sure, but also to minimize suffering wherever they go. I knew the Chop Shop explosion would happen if I didn’t save you. This needed to happen so everyone else here could be rescued. Worse things would have happened if I didn’t interfere now. It may not seem that way, but it is.”

Connor can practically feel gears in his head spinning. “So you knew how this would end the whole time?”

“I knew the great catastrophes of your life,” Y/N corrects. “I knew many paths you could take. This was the big risk, though. I didn’t get to see any more after that. Now I know just as much about your future as you do.”

Connor whistles under his breath. “That’s comforting.” Then, a terrible thought occurs to him. “Wait, that means I was your assignment. Like a job? Were you ever really my friend at all, or was that just something you had to do to complete your assignment?”

Y/N rears back as if hurt. “I have always been your friend. Guardian angels aren’t supposed to ever reveal themselves. I was actually meant to never talk to you until I saved you.”

“What changed?” Connor asks. He can’t stop himself.

Y/N smiles softly. “I saw you. You looked like someone fun.”

“Someone fun,” Connor echoes. He tries to think about his life, if anyone could see that and decide he was someone worthwhile. Someone fun. Someone an angel could watch and want to befriend. A warm feeling blossoms in his chest. Pride, maybe. Or the realization that the one secret he’s been keeping may go both ways after all.

“Yeah,” Y/N says, growing a little embarrassed. “I like you. My bad.”

Connor laughs. “That’s not bad. I like you too, by the way. In case you didn’t see it when you were receiving visions about my life.”

Y/N’s eyes dart up to his. “Really?”

“Really,” Connor says. “What, you didn’t know?”

Y/N shakes their head. “Like I said, I could only see what happened to you up to the Chop Shop exploding. Everything after that is a mystery.”

“Well,” Connor says, drawing closer to them. “I’m glad I get to surprise an angel once in my life.”

Before Y/N can ask him what he means, Connor kisses them, and after a moment of shock, they kiss him back. He’s not sure if he’s the first person in the world to have kissed an angel before, but he wouldn’t mind having that accolade under his belt. Just so long as he gets to be the person to kiss an angel two times, or three. Or forever.

requested by @julysn, i hope you enjoy!

unwind tag list: @reinekes-fox, @locke-writes, @sirofreak

all tags list: @wordsarelife

#connor lassiter #unwind #yeees

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