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mymoonagedaydream · 4 years

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Only the Good Die Young (Part 1)

Summary: Coming home from college for the summer, you expected your days to be spent reading in your bedroom and sitting through tense to family dinners- but an old acquaintance had something else in mind for you

Pairing: Biker!Bucky x y/n

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: Language, strong anti-religious sentiment throughout, harmful relationship with parents, irresponsible motorcycle healthy and safety measures, smoking

Author's Note: Something a bit different, why the hell not. This story is based around lyrics from Billy Joel's 'Only the Good Die Young'. What a man.

---

'Y/n! You look… healthy.'

Those were your mother's first words as you walked through the door of your family home. Not saying how pleased she was to see you or asking how your flight was, but commenting on how you looked with her typical passive-aggressive euphemisms.

This was going to be a long summer.

Initially you were adamant about staying at your dorm, even on your own. All you wanted was peace and space. Then your parents threatened to cut you off if you didn't come home, so here you were.

You traipsed upstairs. Approaching your bedroom, you saw the bolt haphazardly screwed to the outside of the door. Your father had installed it when you were twelve, after he caught you watching ‘ungodly’ TV shows in the living room at midnight- Doctor Who.

Your room had been redecorated. It looked fucking dreadful. You glanced up at the wall and a little bit of sick shot up to the back of your mouth when you saw a ‘live, laugh, love’ sticker plastered up there.

A long, long summer.

---

Your first errand was grocery shopping. Wandering around the store, you grabbed everything on the list and headed to the checkout. Through the front window you saw billows of smoke blowing past, but you couldn’t quite see where they were coming from.

As you stepped outside, you looked over to see a pretty big group of guys in leather jackets, most of them with cigarettes on the go. They were gathered around the corner of the building, the one you had to walk past to get home. You kept your head down, gripping your grocery bags tight and passing them as quickly as possible, when you heard one of them pipe up.

'Well holy shit. Y/n?'

You turned towards the voice. James Barnes.

The two of you went to high school together but, apart from the occasional stilted conversation and reluctant group project, you’d never really developed any sort of relationship. Besides, he always hung out with people your mother didn't approve of.

And he was what, now? In a motorcycle gang? Figures.

'Hi James. Good to see you.' You mumbled, breaking stride momentarily. His friends seemed to find that funny.

'People call me Bucky now.'

Nodding feebly, you gave him a polite smile before moving off again. You noticed that your face felt warm and your stomach was involuntarily tensing. Sure, he was much more handsome and charismatic than you remembered, but you had no idea why being in his presence was making you this nervous. You heard approaching footsteps and in a second he was by your side, walking next to you.

'You moving back to town?'

'No, just visiting for the summer.'

‘Are your parents still religious nut-jobs?'

You stopped and snapped your head round, in complete shock at the brazenness of his questioning.

'I'll take that as a yes.’ Without taking his eyes off you he pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, placed one between his lips and lit it. ‘Guessing you won't be having much fun this summer then.'

'Probably not your kind of fun.'

He smirked and stepped towards you. ‘Man, you Catholic girls start much too late.’

‘I don’t think I asked for your opinion, James.’ It came out much softer than you anticipated, barely a mumble. Not the kind of back-off-or-else warning you were aiming for. He was really getting under your skin.

'You didn’t, but I’ll give you another.’

You raised an eyebrow, watching him blow a cloud of smoke out over your head and chuckle at your expression. Against your better judgement, you waited for him to carry on.

‘I'd rather laugh with the sinners than cry with the saints.' He stepped closer again, bringing his lips close to your ear, and whispered. 'Cause the sinners are much more fun.'

---

You dropped the shopping on the counter. The whole way home you hadn’t been able to get James Barnes out of your head, hadn’t been able to stop picturing his smirk or imagining his warm breath tickling your ear.

You wanted to know more about him, and if anyone had information it'd be your mother. She knew everything about everyone in this godforsaken town. Sitting down for dinner, you seized your opportunity.

'I saw James Barnes at the grocery store today.'

She abruptly dropped her knife and it hit her plate with a sharp clang, making you jump.

'You stay away from that boy.' She punctuated the words by pointing her fork at you. 'He's trouble. Him and his gang.'

You hated the way she spoke to you sometimes, like you were a child. You were in your twenties for fuck’s sake.

'He seemed nice enough.'

‘That’s how it starts.’ Your father piped up. ‘Before you know it he’s got you hooked on drugs, living in a trailer, pregnant with his deviant child.’

And that was the end of that conversation.

Being away, you’d almost forgotten how messed up your parents were. It was terrifying to think that you used to be just as bad. They had you completely brainwashed before you left for college and, even now, some of their intrusive religious dogma still lingered in your subconscious.

---

Sunday. The priest was droning on about something but you weren’t concentrating, his dull voice just sounded like a janky old extractor fan whirring behind the altar. You stood, sat, stood, kneeled, sat along with everyone else like sheep being herded, singing and praying whenever prompted. This, every Sunday for ten weeks, was going to be torture.

An hour or so into the service, you felt yourself nodding off. Your shoulders relaxed and your head felt too heavy to be held up by your neck but, just as your eyes started to close, something startled you. Startled the whole congregation. The droning from the altar stopped and heads turned towards the door, where the disturbance was coming from.

It sounded like a shuddering motorbike engine. Then another joined. In a couple of seconds the entire church was filled with an echoing cacophony of backfiring engines.

Someone at the back stood up and ran to the door. There was some shouting and laughing, but the noise eventually moved away, fading into the distance. Looking around, you saw a sea of indignant and sour faces. The tension hovering in the air was palpable.

‘And that,’ your mother hissed through clenched teeth, ‘is why you don’t go near James Barnes and his friends.’

You had to suck in your cheeks to smother your laughter, nodding insincerely at her words. James’ voice echoed in your head…

The sinners are much more fun.

---

A couple days later, one of your old friends invited you to a house party- or ‘board game night’ as you told your parents. Parties were usually a little out of your comfort zone, but you’d do anything to get out of their house for an evening.

Wandering from room to room, you checked if there was anyone else there you recognised. Nope. You skulked to the kitchen and opened a can of diet coke.

There was a hard tap on your shoulder and you turned to see James Barnes’ wide smile.

‘Hey there.’

‘Hi James.’ You muttered, taking a sip of your drink. ‘I heard your little stunt outside the church last week. You make a habit of that?’

‘Nope. Just thought it’d be nice to welcome you home.’

Interesting. That whole thing was for you? Your stomach started to flutter with excitement despite part of your brain screaming that he was probably just mocking you, flirting with you for a bet. To save any potential embarrassment, you went on the defensive.

‘Gee, thanks. Are you and your friends always that obnoxious James?’

‘Ah y’know.’ He leant against the counter, folding his arms, still grinning at you. ‘We might be laughing a bit too loud, but that never hurt no one.’

You raised an eyebrow, feigning disinterest and doing everything you could to keep a lid on how excited his deep chuckles were making you. He bit his lip and your heart felt like it was going to leap out of your chest.

‘And call me Bucky.’ He pushed himself off the counter, disappearing into the crowd.

Hours passed and you eventually realised that you weren’t really having a great time. Everyone around you was borderline hammered but you knew if your parents got a whiff of alcohol you’d be locked inside all summer, so you were stone-cold.

You snuck out the back door, swiftly sliding it shut. Focusing more on what was happening behind you than in front, you managed to unceremoniously trample over someone’s feet.

James, of course it was. Brilliant.

He was leant against the wall, finishing off a cigarette. Chuckling, he held out the pack to you, but you shook your head.

‘Leaving so soon?’ He grunted.

‘Yeah, not really my scene.’

‘Same here. Want to go somewhere else?’ Your heart stuttered at his question. You struggled to form a reply, gazing at him wide-eyed. He smirked and looked away. 'It’s alright, I know the deal. Your mother told you all I could give you was a reputation, right?'

You couldn’t hold back your excited smile anymore and his eyes lit up when he saw it. Shrugging faintly, your mind scurried around trying to find something witty and attractive to say. He dropped his cigarette butt and crushed it under his boot before slowly approaching you. Stopping a couple inches away, he smirked down at your dazed expression.

‘Come out with me tomorrow.’

---

You told your mother that you were having a day at the local library. You weren’t necessarily lying- you had no idea what Bucky had in mind, so anything was a possibility.

He was waiting by the monument in the town centre, like he’d said yesterday.

‘So,’ you said, prompting him to turn towards you and smile, ‘what are we doing?’

He held his elbow out and you snaked your hand through it.

‘You’ll see.’

Much to your surprise, he took you to the fair. You wandered around, hand enclosed in his, talking and laughing for hours. He bought you a hot dog and spent ages trying to win you a stuffed giraffe, but his aim wasn’t great. You couldn’t hold back your laughter after he missed for the fourth time, so he picked you up, swung you around and shouted that he was going to sell you to the carnival.

When both of you were tired and full, he walked you to the park, pulling you down next to him on a bench and wrapping his arm tight around your waist.

‘Thanks Bucky.’ You said faintly.

‘For what?’

‘Didn’t think I’d be having much fun this summer, but I had a really nice time.’

He smirked and scooched even closer to you, his firm thigh pressed against yours and his thumb gently stroking your hip. There was a comfortable silence for a few seconds before he muttered to himself.

‘It ain’t right.’

‘What?’

He sighed, brushing his chin against your hair. ‘Your parents. Catholics, man- they just built you a temple and locked you away. You’ve barely lived.’

‘It’s not all bad.’ You whispered, relaxing your head against his shoulder and angling your face up towards his.

‘Maybe.’ Adjusting himself, he turned towards you and put his free hand under your chin. ‘But that stained-glass never really lets in the sun.’

He pressed his lips against yours. Your stomach flipped. His hand moved from your chin to cradle the side of your neck and his thumb brushed softly across your cheek. He pressed towards you more firmly, sliding his tongue along your lips. He tasted like cigarettes and candy floss. Your knees tensed and your thighs started shaking. He must’ve noticed, because you felt a deep chuckle vibrating into your mouth, but that only made it worse. You melted into him, just about steadying yourself by gripping the lapels of his jacket.

He pulled away, letting your head fall into the crook of his neck, keeping a tight grip on your waist.

‘Not bad for a church girl.’

---

‘What is this?!’ Your mother burst into your room, looking horrified and holding her phone out in front of her.

You squinted at the screen, it was a photo. You and Bucky holding hands at the fair. Shit.

‘Where did you get that?’ You muttered.

‘Angela sent it to me. She saw you there, with him.’

You stood from your bed, ready to plead with her. ‘Look, he’s a nice guy, he’s-’

‘He is a criminal. And if you think you’re seeing him again, you’re wrong.’ She turned and started to storm away.

You felt anger bubbling inside, nothing like you’d ever felt before. Everything Bucky had said, his anger at your parents- he was right. You’d thought about it before, of course you had, but all you’d ever felt was a kind of defeated acceptance. Now, you were pissed.

‘I am not a fucking child.’ You screamed.

She jerked to a stop. Slowly twisting round, you saw her face was filled with venom. ‘We’ll speak again when you’re ready to apologise.’ She hissed, slamming your door behind her. You heard it lock.

Wow, that felt good. Really good. You flopped down onto your bed. Your head was spinning but you were grinning to yourself, still half in disbelief. You’d never stood up to her like that before and you were starting to regret not doing it sooner.

Your phone started buzzing- Bucky.

‘Hi.’ You sighed into it.

‘Come to the window.’

Your gaze darted to the far end of your room and you fumbled off your bed. After briefly scanning the skyline, your eyes flickered down to the backyard lawn. Bucky was standing underneath your window, holding his phone to his ear, beaming up at you.

‘Came to ask if you wanted to come out, figured I probably shouldn’t knock on the front door.’

‘So you break into the garden?’ You chuckled.

He shrugged and flung his free arm out. ‘It’s romantic.’

‘Sure is.’ You grinned down at him before remembering where you were. ‘I can’t Buck. One of my mother’s friends saw us together yesterday. I’m locked in.’

‘Man, you’re living with psychopaths.’ You nodded and gave him a disheartened smile. ‘Look, I know they’re your parents, but you really don’t owe them anything. Especially after everything they’ve done.’

His words echoed around in your head, slowly becoming more convincing as you considered them. Before you could respond, the light from the room below you switched on and Bucky was immediately illuminated with bright yellow light. Without missing a beat, he sprinted towards the fence and vaulted into next door’s garden. You heard a breathy ‘I’ll see you soon babe’ through the phone before he hung up.

Your father ran out of the back door, pretty quickly deciding not to give chase. He looked up at you with anger in his eyes but you didn’t waver. You were already locked in your room for the foreseeable future, what else could he possibly do?

---

He could force you to clean all the floors in the house on your hands and knees, apparently. Scrubbing for hours and hours with him watching over you like a hawk. Your parents had pretty swiftly gone from strict but harmless religious zealots to borderline prison wardens. As soon as he left the room, you pulled your phone out and hammered out a message to Bucky.

Will you come get me? I need out.

You stared at your screen, willing him to reply before your father came back. After what felt like ages, it finally buzzed.

On my way. Pack a bag.

You jumped up from the floor and sprinted up the stairs to your room, grabbing handfuls of whatever you could reach and shoving it into your backpack. You heard your father scurrying around on the ground floor before stomping up the stairs, shouting your name. Before he made it to your room, the faint rumble of a motorbike engine started in the distance and your heart jumped.

Running into the hallway, you pushed past your father without even looking up at him and scrambled down the stairs. You pulled the front door open and a wall of fresh air hit you, allowing you to take your first clean, deep breath of the day. Since you woke up all you’d been doing was huffing floor-cleaning chemicals.

Bucky came round the corner on his bike and you almost felt like bursting into tears. Waves of relief passed through every muscle in your body and you ran down the front steps to meet him.

You leapt on to the back of his bike, still in your pyjamas, and wrapped your arms around his waist as tight as you could. It felt like you were running entirely on adrenaline. Your parents were screaming your name behind you, but they were quickly drowned out by the roaring of the motorbike coming back to life.

‘Shit, I’m not exactly dressed for a ride.’ You mumbled into his ear through your heavy breaths. ‘Don’t even have a helmet.’

You felt him vibrate with laughter as he gunned the engine and sped away.

‘Ah, don’t worry, you’ll be fine darlin.’ He raised his arm and flipped off your parents. ‘Only the good die young.’

---

Part Two

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372 notes · View notes

eryiss · 3 years

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Summary: Forced to be sociable by his so called friends, Laxus finds himself attending a five week cooking class. An insulting and stupid idea, and one he resents them for doing. He would have thrown it in their faces, if it weren’t for the smug prick teaching the class, with his handsome face, delectable body, and annoyingly enticing way of keeping Laxus on his toes. [Fraxus One Shot]

Notes: Hi. I wrote this on my phone while sitting on the beach, so who knows how it’ll turn out. But it’s got them both being cocky, both being flirty, and both being in love, so what else could you want. Hope you all enjoy it.

Links: FFN, Ao3

Set To Boil

Or: 4 Times Freed taught Laxus a recipe, & 1 time Laxus returned the favour

Week One - Pizza

"Laxus, you need to get out more."

"Laxus, there's no reason for you not to give it a try."

"Laxus, you're an antisocial brat and you need to get out more."

Fuck them all. Fuck Evergreen for her haughty sense of self belief. Fuck Bickslow for having no tact and being and coming up with good points. Fuck Makarov in particular, for being a rude old coot who threatened to change the damn lock. And when Laxus found out which of the interfering bastards had been the one to come up with this stupid idea, then fuck them too.

It was ridiculous. Yes, perhaps Laxus had become somewhat insular as of late. Maybe his friends had been putting in more effort than him as of late, but it was important. He was newly hired in his sports journalism career, and he needed to focus on his writing.

What he did not need was a five week cooking course!

Why the hell did cooking courses even exist anymore? If you wanted to learn to cook, there was this brilliant new invention called a computer. They had hundreds of step by step recipes, none of which required Laxus to trudge through a damn rec-centre at eight at night!

Seriously, fuck them all.

He was late, too. The bus had missed his stop, and as such he was now ten damn minutes late. He was half-tempted to leave the rec-centre before he found his classroom - Ever, Bicks and Makarov wouldn't find out if he didn't use the damn voucher, after all - but then he would have to spend the next five weeks thinking of ways to pass the time every Thursday night. He really needed to move out of Makarov's damn apartment; the old bastard apparently had nothing better to do than to keep tabs on him. Bastard.

He was in front of the classroom door before he knew it, and he faulted. Dammit, why had he agreed to do this? Why couldn't the bus have gotten him there on time? Why was he nervous about this?

No; he was a grown man dammit. Fuck his nerves,

With false confidence, he walked into the classroom. Eight benches, all with sinks, ovens, cooktops, an array of cutlery and equipment, and a basket of ingredients filled the space. Five people stood behind some of the benches, and Laxus somewhat guilty slinked towards the nearest bench, at the back of the classroom.

"Mr Dreyar, I presume," A voice, deliciously smooth with underlying authority, made Laxus pause.

He looked up to see a man standing at the front of the room, behind a larger and more professional looking cooking worktop, and Laxus paused. If you were to encapsulate all of Laxus' ideal qualities in a man, his new teacher was apparently as close a person could come. Tall, obviously with some muscle, tight and sharp facial features, a little pale, and with long hair. He wore a button up shirt that hugged his form, and his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, showing off a near-indecent amount of his forearms. He was quirking his eyebrow towards Laxus, and he felt ensnared by the expression.

Dammit, of course. Almost every other cooking class in the country would inevitable be taught by a homely housewife or a tedious Ramsay wannabe, but not his. He gets a stud with veiny forearms, high cheekbones, and narrowed eyes that made Laxus shiver.

He couldn't justify it, but Laxus was inclined to blame his grandfather for that.

"There's a bench up here, if you'd like to take it," The teacher said, motioning towards one of the cooking stations at the front of the room. Laxus cringed; even in school, he'd been one of the kids who sat at the back. That wasn't a habit he was ready to lose.

"I'd rather stay here, if it's all the same to you," Laxus mumbled, annoyed at himself for not speaking clearly. There was something about teachers that just… what did you call someone who intimidated you but also kind of excited you at the same time?

God, this was going to be awful.

"And I prefer it if my students arrived to my lessons on time," The teacher smirked a little, and Laxus almost stuttered in search of a reply. "And, as tends to happen with a student who shows up late on the first day, you'll likely act out further. As such, I want you close by so I can keep you on the straight and narrow," He tapped his finger on the surface twice. "This counter, please."

Though only a few steps, the walk to the counter at the front of the room was humiliating, it served to make the asshole teacher appear less hot, if nothing else. Because Laxus definitely did not like a man who knew how to be firm with him.

This was going to be hell, wasn't it?

At his assigned counter, Laxus felt a little lost. Nestled in the ingredients was a recipie - they were making pizza, apparently - and Laxus slightly found himself floundering. The cooking lessons weren't just to make him more sociable; he had no idea how to cook.

The teacher, who was looking at him from behind his work surface, sighed and approached Laxus. In his hand, he held a chopping board with what appeared to be a large mound of dough. He placed it before Laxus, who drowned down at it.

"Normally I would have taught you how to make dough yourself, but my plan's require the full hour," The teacher said, as if that was an explanation. "Rather than you lagging behind and not getting the whole experience, you should start from the same point everyone else is at. So put yourself to work and start to kneed this. It'll require a few more minutes to get to the right consistency."

Laxus looked down at the dough, grinding his teeth. Kneeding was rubbing it, right? And occasionally you punch it? That didn't sound right.

"Like this," The teacher said, pulling the chopping board towards him. He started to kneed the dough - it wasn't what Laxus thought it was - and the attraction came back with a sudden force. God dammit, why did his sleeves have to hug his biceps like that? That just wasn't fair.

The dough was pushed towards him again, and Laxus rolled up his sleeves and started to emulate what the teacher had done. The teacher didn't leave, and Laxus squirmed a little under, and found himself speaking to fill the silence.

"I ain't gonna learn, y'know," His mouth said before his brain could intercept. "Don't give a shit about cooking."

That a'boy Laxus. Turn up late, fail at a basic thing, and insult the guy's career. Real classy.

"You will." The teacher said, as if it were undeniable.

"I will?" Laxus scoffed.

"You will," The teacher repeated, smirking, "Once you realise what a good home cooked meal taste like, you'll be desperate to learn what else you can do."

"You seem awfully confident about that…" He drifted off; he didn't even know the damn guys name,

"Freed," The teacher supplied. "And I am confident. You'll love cooking by the end of it. I'm sure."

"You talk a big game," Laxus chuckled a little. He almost forgot he was kneeding the dough, but Freed looked down at his hands and grinned a little, which got Laxus to pause. Just because he was kneeding dough it didn't mean he cared; it was basically a workout. That was all, and Freed needed to know that. "If you're that sure, then I'm gonna insist you eat everything I make, no matter how shitty it turns out to be."

"So long as you don't sabotage yourself on purpose, I can agree to that."

Well, Laxus had slightly wanted to make Freed eat combinations of food that tasted like crap, but this could work. Laxus really was that bad of a cook, Freed might not be able to know the difference.

"Deal," Laxus nodded, offering Freed a hand to shake. The chef did so immediately, with a firm squeeze and… oh damn, those veins!

——

Week Two - Curry

Laxus had been right. Even putting in the effort and following the recipie as best he could, he was still a shitty cook. Unless, of course, a curry was meant to be accompanied by a waft of dark, burning smoke when you opened up the oven. Laxus coughed a little as he removed the dish from the oven, placing it on the counter top while shutting the oven door with his foot,

Freed was storming over immediately, flapping at the smoke with a dish towel and immediately turnoff the extractor fan on to suck up the smoke before it reached the detector. He had previously been working with a pink haired bastard, who was snickering at Laxus' failure. Asshole.

"What on earth did you do to it?" Freed demanded, more confused than angry.

"I followed her recipe," Laxus retorted indignantly. "Can't blame me."

"Everyone else has the same recipe and they've managed fine," Freed muttered under his breath. "Explain to me what happened."

Laxus bit down the instinct to tell Freed to choke on something, patronising ass that he was. He had made a deal with Freed the week prior that he would do what he could to make the most of the lessons, and he would enjoy knowing how to make a few meals, so admitting his mistakes was something that he would have to do. Even if it was to a smug, ego-centred teacher who Laxus could definitely take in a fight without breaking a sweat,

Maybe he should suggest some boxing lessons. Laxus had given up pro fighting the year before, but kept it up for fun. If Freed was acting like Laxus was stupid for not knowing the basics of cooking, Laxus would act like Freed was stupid when he didn't understand how to box.

Fantasising about punching Freed in the stomach - which was no doubt toned and sexy as hell - made talking through the process easier. Freed wore a slight frown, apparently not seeing anything wrong with what he had done. Laxus was about to boast that he was right, and that it was Freed's instructions that had gotten the burned pile of mush that filled the room with smoke, but Freed's expression turned to one of understanding when he looked at the oven,

"These work on Celsius, you set it as though you were using Fahrenheit," Freed explained. "You essentially nuked it."

Fuck. God-fucking-dammit!

He could have dealt with it if he was unable to do some cooking thing he'd never had to use before. But this? Misreading a piece of paper and setting the wrong temperature on the damn oven, how the hell had he managed to do that? It was humiliating! He was a grown ass adult, a retired sportsman who was forging a career to be respected. But an oven had made him look like an idiot who couldn't do anything for himself. Fucking brilliant.

With clenched fists, he rested against the workbench and leant on it with closed eyes. This was why he didn't do shit like this; he needed to keep in his lane and do what he was good at. Not cook, not have this weird hate-boner for his teacher. None of this.

"How soon after the class do you need to leave?" Freed asked, cutting through Laxus' spiralling thoughts. He frowned, but answered.

"Don't have any plans after."

"If we start again, we can have you finished ten minutes after class. That way it won't be an act of futility," Freed said, and rolled his damn sleeves up again. Thankfully he was moving around the counter, turning the oven down and fiddling with appliances fast enough to stop Laxus' eyes from lingering. "I can teach you how to spice things to your own tastes, as well. Normally that's next week, but I can advance you for your troubles."

"Advance me?" Laxus frowned. "Kinda need to be good at the basics first."

"You are, everything you said was correct. You made a small mistake that I should have noticed," Freed shrugged, walking to the counter he taught from and taking a box of ingredients to place on Laxus' desk. "I thought you'd learn better left to your own devices, and while I expect that was true, I shouldn't have left you alone. That was my mistake and as such, I'll amend it. We'll make a curry suited towards your tastes."

This was an olive branch, Laxus was sure of it. Freed had apparently noticed Laxus' shift of mood, and took the blame for Laxus' mistake. He was thankful of it, but it was still embarrassing.

Thankfully, a way of saving face had presented itself.

"I don't know if I can believe ya," He said with a small, somewhat forced smirk. "I mean, you don't have a record for keeping promises, do ya?"

"Don't I?"

"You told me you'd eat some of everything I made," Laxus shrugged, looking towards his pot of 'curry' that lay stagnant in the pot. It was grey, somehow. Food shouldn't be grey. "That was a lie."

Freed sighed, but didn't back down. He pulled a dessert spoon from one of the drawers, carefully scooped up some of the ruined mush and brought it towards his lips; damn they were pretty. He openly winced at the smell, swallowing preemptively as it got closer to his mouth. He glanced towards Laxus for a split second, who was watching him with crossed arms expectantly, and let out a resigned sigh. He opened his mouth, took in the spoon, then ate.

First he gagged, then he coughed, then he struggled to swallow. Even though Laxus had worked hard, and a small part of him thought Freed was exaggerating, he laughed at the reaction. Freed was fighting to keep the burned, disgusting food down. Once completely swallowed, he turned to Laxus with a wince.

"Delicious," He lied, trying to hide how thoroughly unhappy he was.

"If that's the case, there's plenty more," Laxus smirked, and Freed actually winced. That, of course, spurred Laxus on further. This was more fun than cooking. "Eat up, I don't mind."

Freed seemed to think for a moment, before standing up straight, rolling his back, and doing something Laxus never would have expected. He pulled out a plate and a ladle, scooped a portion large enough to fill two fully grown adults would struggle to finish no matter what the taste, and placed it on the countertop as if it was something to be proud of.

"A deal," Freed proposed. "I want to teach you one on one for the rest of the session. No distractions, no changing the subject, simply me telling you how to cook. Essentially, until you've cooked something successfully, I want your full attention."

Laxus nearly scoffed, Freed already had that. Instead, he said: "What's my 'delicious' curry got to do with that."

"If you make an attempt to distract me, to get out of lessons in some way, or continue with the mindset that this course is not suited to you, then for the rest of your time learning under me, you'll stay after class and clean everyone's dishes until I'm satisfied with the result."

Laxus winced a little. "And if I don't do any of that."

"I'll eat all of this," He motioned to the plate of ruined food. "And you may watch me do it."

Thinking for a moment, Laxus grinned. "Your funeral," He then glances at the food and winced. "Possibly literally."

Freed waved off the comment, stood beside Laxus with his new range of ingredients, and began explaining the basics of how to get a flavour you desired from your ingredients. On instinct Laxus wanted to taunt the man, suggesting the best way to get a flavour was with a take-out menu, but he managed to stop himself before the words slipped out. Mainly it was to avoid four weeks of dish washing, but also because he hasn't seen Freed like this. He was passionate when he spoke about cooking, and Laxus didn't want to ruin that.

And when Freed's arm slid against Laxus' as they moved, somehow at the same moment Freed looked at him with a genuine smile, Laxus felt shivers roll over him. This was… there were worse ways to spend a Thursday evening.

——

Week Three - Chicken Soup

"Y'know, if you're gonna make such a big deal about-" Laxus cut himself off. Holy shit.

He had been ready to blast into Freed about puntuality. Laxus had gotten to the class on time, only to see that Freed was not there. Eight minutes into the lesson, the door had opened, and Laxus was fully intending to lambast Freed about how much of a big deal it was when Laxus was late, and yet Freed was just as bad. He only stopped when he saw the state Freed was in. Because dammit, the man was drenched to the bone.

What the hell had happened to him? Sure it was raining, but Laxus knew he had a car, and surely the walk from the parking lot to the building hadn't been that bad. He looked like he'd gotten into a fight with a lake and lost.

"Everyone to your work stations please," Freed instructed, removing his coat as he walked to the front of the class. "I apologise for being late, but it shouldn't be too much of an imposition if we all focus."

Laxus was focusing. Focusing on the fact Freed's white shirt was clinging to his chest, showing off strong pecs and the taunting glimpse of a six-pack. It was a temp tight sight, and far too indecent for a classroom setting.

He shook his thoughts away. He needed to focus, because last week's lesson had proved a lot of things. One: Freed was willing to eat a whole plate full of disgusting food to prove a point, which wasn't relevant but Laxus still thought funny to think about him gagging and going green. Two: Freed was actually a damn good teacher, he just apparently hadn't know what Laxus needed from him until the latter half of the class. Three: Laxus actually could cook, if taught well. Because the second curry he'd made was indescribable, and it had tasted just as good when Laxus had cooked it two nights prior.

So, the lessons were actually working, and Laxus decided he was going to fully allow himself to be a student. Groping the teacher with his eyes wasn't going to help that, so Laxus remained quiet and let Freed explain the lesson.

To learn how to flavour things correct, they would all be making a series of different soups throughout the hour. Five basic recipes has been placed on their workspaces, and an entire array of spices, ingredients and flavourings had been scattered through the room. The point of the exercise was to follow the recipes, but also put other ingredients into their soups while doing it so that they can experiment with flavours. It was pretty smart, and Laxus felt like he had an advantage given Freed's impromptu lesson with spices the week before.

Once Freed stopped talking, they began cooking, and Laxus felt oddly confident in himself.

About ten minutes into the exercise, Freed made his way to Laxus' workstation. Wordlessly, he picked up a plastic ladle and scooped out a small amount of the soup Laxus had cooking. Laxus watched with only a small amount of anticipation as Freed brought the soup to his lips and swallowed it, and didn't focus on the flipping of his stomach as Freed smiled at him.

"It's very good," he praised, and Laxus did not preen at the words.

"Thanks," He muttered instead. "Any advice?"

Freed smiled a little at the request, placing the ladle in the small sink. "I'd use sea salt from now on, it'll bring out the flavour of the chicken more. But your instincts have served you well, it works very well together."

"Oh, thanks," Laxus mumbled awkwardly, and Freed didn't help by leaning over the table to look at Laxus' recipe, bring their faces far too close. Thank god the heat of the room has fixed the slight transparency of Freed's shirt, because knowing about the body below the clothes was tempting enough with him this close. If he could see the man's body, he might explode.

"You've put everything you've added onto this, haven't you?" Freed asked, tapping the recipe that had Laxus notes covering it. Laxus nodded weakly. "Then, if you can recreate it as it is now,I then it's time to experiment. Pick something at random to add and see what it tastes like. If it's bad, remake what you've already done."

"Anything huh?" Laxus quirked a brow. "You know you have to eat it, right? You wanna give me this much freedom after last week?"

"So long as you choose your ingredients thinking it will taste good, I'll uphold my agreement," Freed shrugged. "Though I must admit, I'd prefer not to spend the night with stomach cramps and a bucket beside my bed again, if avoidable."

Laxus barked out a laugh. "Kinda thought I'd killed ya when you didn't show up on time. What happened?"

"My car's broken down," Freed explained, looking over the herbs Laxus had added. "It took longer to get here than I expected."

"You walked in this?" Laxus glanced towards the heavy rainfall beating down on the windows.

"Indeed," Freed nodded. "Not my smartest decision."

Laxus winced a little at a roll of thunder exploded outside, apparently trying to make sure Freed knew just how stupid his decision had been. Freed didn't seem too bothered by it, though, and instead walked towards the old woman who worked behind Laxus, tasting her version of tomato soup and giving her advice on how to give it an extra kick.

The rest of the lesson continued on like that. Freed would work his way around the room, helping where he could. Laxus experimented on his soup, finding parmasean to be the missing ingredient.

Freed actually licked his damn lips after trying that. Did he know what he was doing to Laxus?

Once the lesson was over, the storm still lighting up the sky, Laxus walked to the door of the rec-centre. Freed was lingering there, wrapped up in a large red coat and clearly not looking forward to his walk home. Laxus understood that; the rain was so hard it probably would hurt to be under it.

"I'll drive ya home," Laxus said, his tone not leaving room to argue.

"What?" Freed asked. "No, that's not-"

"Didn't give you a choice, did I?" Laxus crossed his arms.

"You intend to kidnap me?" Freed joked.

"Yeah," Laxus nodded. "If you walk out in that, you're gonna get sick for no reason other than your own stubbornness. If that happens, the. Eat I can do for you is give you the recipe for this," he patted the container of chicken soup he held, "but I kinda think driving you might make more sense."

Freed considerd before speaking. "I insist on paying for gas, at least."

"Course you will, I ain't a cheap date."

The words came before Laxus could stop himself, and a flush of worry spread through him. Freed simply laughed, murmured a teasing "I expect not," and walked towards the door. He held it open for Laxus to walk through, and with a small grin, Laxus did so, with Freed by his side.

When the rain hit them, Laxus didn't care, and it certainly didn't diminish the silly smile that he hoped Freed couldn't see.

——

Week Four - Meringues

"What are you looking at, Laxus?"

Freed seemed amused as he spoke, and he walked towards Laxus' working area. Laxus had been trying to catch his teacher's eye for around a minute, with probably a stupid little grin on his face. He couldn't find it in himself to be embarrassed about being caught out.

The drive home with Freed has been a long one - thirty minutes in the car; how long would it have been if he'd walked! - and they'd talked throughout. Laxus had learned that, until recently, Freed had been a professional chef for the TV show 'Sabertooth Chefs', a cooking competition watched by millions. He was off camera, making the meals that the celebrity judges claimed they had cooked to use as an example for their contestants. Apparently he quit because of a lack of passion.

That, and apparently Rufus Lore - the judge he cooked for - was obnoxious and could barely bake a loaf of bread if left on his own.

Laxus spoke about his own life. How he'd felt obligated to quit his pro-boxing career after a nasty head wound that resulted in his scar. How he was now a freelance writer who did sports analysis for some of the sports magazines and websites. Freed had seemed impressed, and claimed he'd watch out for his work.

They were closer now, and as such Laxus felt comfortable joking with him.

"I've got a question," he said when Freed was close. "You said you'd taste everything I cook, right? Well, for food, tasting something means you're experiencing it, right?"

"I suppose," Freed agreed, though seemed to know he was walking into a trap.

"Well, with meringues, you showed us that trick, right," Laxus smirked. "Where if you've made it correctly, you can turn the bowl over and the mixture won't fall out."

"Yes," Freed was wary now.

"Well, you also said for the best experience," he put emphasis on the word, "then you tip it up over your head. If you've done it right, it stays in the bowl. If you ain't, it covers ya."

"I did say that," Freed muttered.

"Well, if you're gonna experience everything I make, surely you should do it." He smirked; and pushed the bowel of mixture towards him.

Freed looked down, resignedly.

Then he perked up and reached into his pocket, pulling out a coin. He flipped it with flair and caught it, covering it before either of them could see the result.

"Heads or tails?" He requested, and Laxus chuckled.

"Heads."

Freed removed his hand, and Laxus let out a cry of triumph. He nudged the bowel towards Freed, grinning wide and ridiculous as Freed openly sighed. Laxus crossed his arms to hurry the man up, and it seemed to work.

With quick, resigned movements, Freed lifted the bowel. The thick white mixture jiggled slightly, and Freed turned it upside down above his head before he could stop himself.

And… it stayed in place.

For a moment, Freed seemed to be wincing in anticipation, before a look of triumph flooded onto his face. He turned the bowel back over and placed it on the counter.

"Kinda anticlimactic," Laxus said, picking up a spoon.

"But it means you did it correctly," Freed smiled. "You can take solace in that."

"Guess so," Laxus nodded. "Or I could do this."

With neither showmanship nor hesitation, Laxus used the spoon so scoop a dollop of the mixture up and flicked it towards Freed's face. For a moment, all Freed could do was blink, and Laxus burst into stifled laughter.

It had splattered over his lips, nose, and left cheek. Equal parts ridiculous and oddly attractive.

"Mister Dreyar," Freed spoke calmly, but he was trying to hide a smile. "I will be seeing you after class."

He turned away. Laxus snickered.

Although it was tempting to be a dick for the rest of the lesson, Laxus behaved himself. This was the only lesson that they did on desserts, and Laxus wanted to learn. That, and he felt Freed wasn't going to take his little prank lying down, so he probably shouldn't piss him off further.

When everyone else was gone, and Laxus was left alone with Freed, there was a moment of quiet. He motioned for Laxus to approach the desk. Laxus did so.

He was hit in the face by a spurt of ketchup.

It continued, splattering across his face. He gasped, and Freed apparently aimed for his mouth at the moment. It was a stupid moment, not helped by the noise the bottle was making, and eventually the spray died out.

Neither man spoke for a moment.

They both started laughing at the same time, and Freed handed Laxus a napkin to clean himself with.

"You're an asshole, you know that right?" Laxus said with mirth in his voice. "You still got the balls to want a ride from me again?"

"Is the offer still available?" Freed chuckled.

"Sure, just as long as you don't mind me getting some glue and those decorative feather things from a store on the way back," Laxus smirked. "There's a smug asshole who needs to be tarred and fathered."

"Perhaps I'll get the bus," Freed grinned, then frowned a little. Perhaps without thinking, he reached up and stroked Laxus' cheek to rid it of a remaking fleck of sauce.

They both halted, frozen for a moment, and Laxus' mind was set alight. In that moment he knew one thing for sure; he couldn't let Freed go.

——

Week Five - Solyanka

"That will be all for our time together," Freed said, standing at the front of the class. "I hope you all enjoyed your time together, and that you've all learned something. At the risk of promoting myself, I have other courses available that last longer and offer more flexibility with what you'll cook, if you want to further your culinary pursuits. If not, then it was a pleasure working with you all, and I wish you well in your endeavours."

It was weird seeing Freed using his teaching voice; the things he said weren't Freed-like. It was kind of funny.

Laxus hung back when the rest of the class funnelled out. Some of them spoke to Freed before leaving, orbits just left, but Laxus decided to hang back and wait. As he did, he pulled out a small plastic tub from a bag he'd brought with him, waiting for Freed to take note. Once everyone was gone, Freed saw him still standing at the end of his cooking surface.

"Laxus," He said, and he seemed pleased Laxus was still there. "Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, just wasn't ready to leave yet," Laxus passed it off as a joke, but the stopped himself. "I, Erm, well, there's this recipe my family's been making for years. Generations, actually. Just wanted to know what you think."

"You want me to critique a family recipe?" Freed frowned.

No. No he didn't. He wanted to share something with Freed that was important to Freed. It was ridiculous to think, but this old Russian dish was something he had loved for his life, and he wanted Freed to love it too. It seemed stupid now he was thinking about it, but they only really had food in common right now, and Laxus felt like it was his turn to add something to the conversation.

"It's called Solyanka," Laxus said instead of answering the question. "It's a soup. For sausages, olives, cabbage. A lot of things, really."

Laxus didn't say anything else, and picked out a pot from the cupboards to place on the stove. He emptied the contents of the container into the pot and stated to bear it up.

"It tastes better when it's not been reheated but-"

"It smells beautiful," Freed said, cutting through Laxus' backtracking. "And I'm sure it will taste just as good."

"Thanks," Laxus mumbled a little.

As they waited for the soup to heat, there was a comfortable quiet between them both. Freed seemed engrossed in the cooking - the growing scent, the occasional stirring - and it gave Laxus the chance to watch him. He had known Freed was hot from the moment he'd seen him, but he was also fucking beautiful. His hair was pulled out and flowing over his shoulders, and his expression was calm and relaxed.

Laxus was glad he had done this, suddenly. He would have regretted it. This couldn't be the end of his relationship with Freed; it just couldn't.

He went to speak, but Freed went first.

"I think it's time to take it off the heat," He said gently, as if wanting to avoid offending Laxus by telling him how to cook his meal. Laxus quickly removed the pot from the heat.

With now familiar movements, Laxus pulled out two bowls and poured them both a portion. Laxus sat on one of the stools, waiting a little nervously as he saw Freed spoon some of the soup up and take it into his mouth.

"Wow," Freed whispered. "It's incredible."

Pride bloomed inside Laxus, and he didn't tamper it down. This piece of Laxus had pleased Freed. It had made Freed smile such a brilliant smile that it was like a shot to the heart. He was speechless, and Freed spoke again.

"You're incredible, Laxus," he said with equal sincerity.

"What?" Laxus frowned slightly.

"You're incredible, Laxus," Freed repeated, smiling now. "You've made these five weeks remarkably fun for me, and I'm sad to see you go."

"I'm sad to be going," Laxus mumbled, unused to speaking honestly about these kinds of things. "These have been… the best part of my week."

"Mine too," Freed admitted, and the words sent lighting throughout him.

There had been a small part of Laxus that had thought it had been in his head. He felt like he and Freed had been steadily growing closer and closer, in a way that couldn't exactly be called platonic. It felt like this was the moment where a choice had to be made. Laxus could either hide from his feelings, as he had often done in his life, or he could take the dive. Just like he'd done when he had quit his job. Just like he'd done when he'd come to the class in the first place. Just like he should have been doing all his life.

Freed was going to speak, but the urge to act overtook Laxus and he moved before it could dwindle. He launched himself toward, took Freed by the back of the neck, and kissed him.

It wasn't perfect, but the imperfection made it better.

The feeling of the desk jutting into his hip might have been a bother, but it was nothing compared the the brilliance of soft lips moving against his own.

The lingering spice on Freed's tongue could have been a distraction, but it only added to the searing sensation flying through him.

The scent of Laxus' Solyanka might have drawn focus, but instead it nudged with Freed's cologne and created a beautiful feeling of mingled familiarity and uniqueness.

This was the type of kiss that was unforgettable.

Freed's hand was grazing the back of Laxus' neck, scratching at the usually untouched skin in a way Laxus was tempted to put at. He smiled a dopey smile, leaning further into the kiss.

When they pulled apart, breathless and smiling, they couldn't look away from each other.

"Don't know how this works with a chef," Laxus began in a whisper. "Don't wanna offend your sense of pride, but d'you maybe wanna get a bite to eat some place?"

For a stagnant second, that felt like an eternity to Laxus, Freed didn't say anything.

"I'd love that," Freed nodded a little, though his head still rested against Laxus'. "So long as you don't mind me critiquing everything?"

The joke was trumped by the honesty in his voice. Freed really wanted it!

"I can deal with that."

They shared a quiet, private smile. One that promised excitement, passion, and if Laxus allowed himself to be optimistic, perhaps a future as well.

#Fraxus #freed x laxus #freed justine #laxus dreyar #fairy tail #fanfic #writing #one shot #Word Count: 6k

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spacetimewraithwrites-archive · 3 years

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OC Kiss Week Day 5: Memory

WIP: Thriving series Pairing: Warren x Thrive Timeline: Thriving: Meridian CW: Some, like, pain and stuff. Injury? Uh, if you don’t like reading about people in sustained physical pain, then don’t read this lol. Also, blood. Rating: T Words: 1,729

***

“How bad is it?”

Thrive tightened his fists over the surface of the table, jaw wrenched closed, and shook his head. After a few beats during which the veins in his arms became alarming in their prominence, he released the breath he’d held. “It’s not as bad...as it was the last time.”

Warren cast a worried search over the screen of the organic data extractor from his position in the corner of the room. “Yeah...I’m not sure that’s making me feel better about this.”

Thrive grimaced and a hand reached up as if to remove the electrodes attached to his skull, but instead he pressed his fingers to his temple. “It merely means that Ataneq and I will have to adjust the ratio of input and...and the output of...no.” His face went blank. “I can’t think.” He slammed his wrist on the table and threw his head back, letting fly a lengthy swear in Solnai at the top of his voice.

Warren, understanding how much agony one had to be in to use that particular swear, switched the machine off and jumped to his side, kneeling beside his chair. “Okay, sweetheart, okay. That’s good enough.” He whipped an absorbent cloth from his pocket and dabbed the moisture from Thrive’s forehead, turning his face toward him and registering the swelling relief through not just through their physical connection, but their mental one as well. “You’re doing great. Let’s take a break.”

“I’d rather not,” Thrive rasped. “We’re close. This is the most important thing I’ve ever done.”

“And I’d rather not watch you fry your beautiful brain to a crisp.” Warren dragged a second chair over and helped Thrive’s trembling hands hold the cloth to his neck and the rest of his face. “Also, this is very much not the most important thing you’ve ever done.”

Thrive grinned at him, as exhausted as he was in doing so. “Well...one could argue that you are the Most Important thing I’ve ever done.”

“If you don’t shut your fucking mouth,” Warren muttered playfully, beginning to take the electrodes off of Thrive’s chest.

Thrive grabbed his hand. “No. One more.”

“Hey, I meant it when I said I was gonna put a stop to this if you punched that damn self-destruction button of yours again.” Warren gripped Thrive’s hand. “This machine is in its infancy and could kill you if you don’t take a break.”

Instead of the belligerence Warren expected, Thrive turned to him with excitement in his eyes. “The solution is right here. We could be moments away from a breakthrough. The entire kingdom is as close to being able to harness th’crode technology as you and I are right this second, Warren. You will be able to store your own memories without my help.”

“Yeah, I kinda know all of that—”

“Do you understand how difficult it has been for me to watch you forget?”

Warren paused. The excitement had fallen away to reveal a deep sadness, remorse he hadn’t seen in quite some time. “...It’s gotten pretty bad.”

“Yes.” Thrive applied pressure onto the electrode Warren had started to remove. “Conversations with you about our shared past have become daily reminders of my misjudgment. My selfishness. You shouldn’t have to rely on someone else to make sure your cherished memories never die over time.”

Warren looked from him to the data extractor. “I still think you need to do this while natural....”

“The point is to test the extractor’s capability on a human subject.” Thrive straightened his spine. “Our physiology may be different in a lot of ways while I’m human, but I’m not about to test it on you in this stage of development. All it needs is recalibration. I’ve suggested putting the extraction points directly on the brain, but that idea was shot down rather quickly.”

“Thank you, Ataneq,” Warren grumbled.

"Let me do this one last time.” Thrive pointed to the machine. “One last time. If it doesn’t work, I will give up for the rest of the day.”

Warren sighed into his hands. “I can’t. I can’t inflict more of this pain onto you. It’s too much. No, I’m saying no. If you wanna torture yourself one more time, you need to get someone else in here to do it.”

Thrive’s eyebrow quirked.

Which is how, ten minutes later, Warren found himself standing next to Thoeala on the other side of the room while Ataneq calibrated the machine.

Warren turned a frown to Thoeala.

“Oh, you think I’m gonna say no?” Thoeala laughed. “You think just because he’s my dad I have an opinion about his well-being?”

“Why are you still here if you didn’t want to do this, Pop?” Ataneq asked, repositioning the electrodes on Thrive’s head.

Warren sniffed. “Because if this doesn’t kill him, I will.”

Ataneq took Warren’s previous spot behind the extractor. “Right. Counting down from five. Father, recall a memory. Let’s keep it simple.”

Thrive screwed his eyes shut and nodded, hands tightly clasped together. “Test designation eight-four-six-four,” he said for the audio/visual records. “Recalling a memory of my last audience with Delegate Sinkship.”

“Simple,” Warren corrected. “Not painful.”

Ataneq swiped a finger over the screen. “Long live the King. Five. Four. Three. Two. One.”

A high-pitched whine rose from the machine and Thrive placed his hands flat on the table. “Yes...immediate drop in physical discomfort from designation eight-four-six-three.” He inhaled slowly through his nose, then released through his mouth. “My sinus cavities are warm and there is a sharp sting behind the eyes.”

“Holding onto the memory?”

“Yes. Begin transference...now.”

Ataneq had only just done what he was told when Thrive let out an unusual sound. A guttural wail he tried to suppress, hanging his head, face contorting into a grimace. Thoeala bristled beside Warren and Ataneq narrowed his eyes.

“There’s now...” Thrive touched the center of his forehead, fingers shaking visibly, “...severe—severe pain. Frontal and...damn it....”

Warren’s guard raised. Any pain he deemed “severe” could have killed anyone else on the spot. “Thrive, shut it down.”

“How close are we,” Thrive asked through gritted teeth.

“I can’t actually tell. Everything’s going haywire,” Ataneq said. “Your receptors are being overloaded; you need to stop the transference or you’re going to go into self-preservation mode.”

As Thrive opened his eyes, a single rivulet of blood rolled down from his nose. “Hemorrhaging. Numbness in...in the hands.” He swiped the blood away with a thumb and winced again. “And I’m experiencing a burning sensation on the skin.”

“Fuck,” Warren spat. “This is exactly why I didn’t want to do this again!”

Ataneq held up a hand in Thoeala’s direction when she crossed over to Thrive. “Don’t touch him yet. I’ve stopped the extractor but he wasn’t able to cut off the transference. He’s got to come down gradually.”

Thrive’s eyelids drooped and he snapped upright in an attempt to stay present and focused. “I...I’m about to...fall into preservation state.”

“Genius.” Warren leaned over the table and gestured around his eyes to get Thrive to make eye contact. “I have been alive for four hundred years and you wanna know why I’m only now starting to get gray hair?”

Thrive carefully rested his head in his arms, tugging the electrodes’ wires to their limit. “I may have an idea....”

“Yeah, he’s out,” Ataneq said after a second of silence.

Thoeala sighed. “So he did that for no reason?”

“No, he succeeded.”

“Excuse me?” Warren glanced at him in alarm. “...You mean he actually managed to transfer a memory into the databank?”

Ataneq nodded. “It’s not very clear, but it’s there. I can just make out vague shapes moving across the screen. We can work with this.”

Warren walked around the table and kneeled beside Thrive, who didn’t appear to be breathing at all. He felt his neck for a pulse and was satisfied to catch the glacial thrum of his system working to mend his brain. “Babe....”

“Wow,” Thoeala exclaimed, peering at the screen of the extractor over Ataneq’s shoulder. “That is incredible! Yeah, I can see an outline of Sinkship!”

“Thrive,” Warren said, raking his fingers through Thrive’s hair. “You did it. We’ll celebrate when you’re awake.” He removed the electrodes and kissed Thrive’s temple, his ear, and the bit of cheek exposed to him. “You cause me enormous stress but you also never cease to make me proud.”

Thoeala and Ataneq each took turns patting Thrive on the back before leaving the room. “Give us a heads up on how he is.”

“Always,” Warren promised before settling down on the floor.

He was there for close to half a hour before Thrive sank back into consciousness, folding himself upright and wiping the rest of the blood from his nose.

“Welcome back,” Warren said.

Thrive turned, clearly not expecting to see him, grogginess still present in his face. “You waited.”

“Well, yeah...you pulled it off. I couldn’t just leave you here.”

Thrive patted himself down for the wireless electrodes that were used to monitor his physical response to the testing as Warren got up to perch himself on the table. “I'm surprised that it actually worked.”

Warren leaned over to capture him in a firm kiss. “I’m not.”

“I suppose I owe you an apology.” Thrive kissed him again. “I’ll take this as a sign to always do what you say from now on.”

“Oh,” Warren said with a sly smile. “Nice. I don’t even care that you’re making fun of me. I will take full advantage of this.”

“As I’ve no doubt.” Thrive offered him an only half-sarcastic smirk in return. “I believe you called, rightfully, for a celebration.”

“You heard that, huh?”

“I'm...in a word, spent. Would you like to stay the night at the Fertile Patch? We could set up a camp.”

“That sounds fantastic.”

Thrive kissed him one final time before they parted ways to prepare for the hour-long shuttle trip. Warren apprised the kids of Thrive’s state and while Thrive managed to stay awake on the ride over, as soon as his head hit the lush grass of the uninhabited area of wilderness he was down for the count again.

Warren watched the sunset by himself, using Thrive’s stomach as a pillow, lost in thought about the impact the day’s accomplishments would have on the neighboring galaxies.

He’d played a part in history yet again, it seemed.

#ockiss21

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world-of-socks · 4 years

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Note: Alrighty, so here’s an old one. (I don’t HATE it, but I apologize in advance if it’s cringe) This was written about exactly a year ago and I wrote it cause I felt like writing and because we had just recently read Fahrenheit 451 in class and I liked how Beatty was written so I based a character’s personality around his. Anyway it’s pretty edgy so tread... with caution? I dunno. Anyways I just copied and pasted this from google docs and I’m not sure if any of the bold or italicized words translated.

The Seventh Battle: The First Loss

This was certainly the most fearsome battle she had ever led.

The air was rife with screams. The entire atmosphere felt warm with blood and sweat. She looked around in a calm form of panic that comes when you need to logically scan a battlefield. Most of my generals shattered. Fair amount of foot soldiers shattered. Waiting on artillery. She made her mental notes. This is bad.

She had never lost a battle this important before. What would White do to her if she had? She feared she would have to find out. The organics were huge on this planet, almost the size of her. Her soldiers had to fuse to even try to measure up to the tall beings. She cut and slashed into the strange things coming at her at all sides as she thought about what would happen if she lost. Blood spattered all over her form, it was warm and sticky. It stunk of guilt and iron. She hated it.

Screams. So much screaming. It was so hard to think. She had never really felt exhausted of energy before, but it felt like her form was faltering. Had her sword somehow gotten heavier? Her troops were being overwhelmed. Yellow didn’t know how much longer she could hold them off. She heard a loud scream from far off. A jasper? She thought, having not heard closely. A sudden thought. Blue!

In the chaos she had forgotten that Blue was a part of this battle. She had asked her to accompany her on the mission, telling her that she would play a vital role on the battlefield. Yellow turned only to her being taken down by an enemy soldier. No.

Yellow tried to run to her aid, or at least to make sure that her gem wasn’t cracked, but was suddenly overwhelmed, surrounded. The soldiers made a tight circle around her, confused in her panic, she noticed that one of the strange organics emerged from the tight circle. It was a strange creature, quite hideous in her eyes. It spoke, which surprised her since she thought that all organic life was unintelligent and incapable of speech.

“Yellow Diamond.” the words were spoken slowly and deliberately, “I have waited for this moment.”

There was a pause. Everything was so loud. Blue, Blue, she had to get to Blue. She took a moment to organize her thoughts. She couldn’t do anything until this organic was eliminated or at least out of her path. Frustrated, confused, and angry Yellow spoke:

“Who are you?” she snarled.

There was a cold laugh, “Nevermind that. I am much more interested in you. My soldiers have long told me of you and your tactics. You are ruthless and intelligent. Both of which are qualities I like.”

She flexed her hand, the smell of electricity masked the scent of blood, she laughed, coldy, “You’re right about one thing,” she aimed a blast at the organics feet, “but you have no idea of the power you’re messing with.”

Yellow felt strangely confident in her abilities to take the being down, it was one organic, and she was a diamond. Yes, a whole army of organics can be difficult, and taking out the rest of the circle might be a task, but one measly being: Pathetic.

The organic dodged easily, using some strange hover device, it, to, laughed, “I’m afraid we do.”

Her eyes widened slightly, it dodged...how did it…? Different tactic she thought. She aimed a blast at the ground, blasting her into the air, and momentarily breaking the circle, she aimed a couple blasts from the sky, most missing. She was tired. She fell to the ground which cracked beneath her weight.

The strange organic walked forward, Yellow tried to get to her feet, but she was too weak. The organic kicked her face into the dark ground. She could hear it speaking:

“There is a foolishness in being cocky, your highness. It’s a shame you didn’t know better.” it mocked.

There was a pressure on her form, she winced slightly and clenched her teeth to keep herself from crying out. She knew what was coming. There was a blinding pain, and then….. Nothing.

She was gone.

……………

Blinking.

Blurry.

Awake.

She had reformed, but where? She looked around. It was much quieter. Homeworld? No. she noted Where am I? Suddenly her answer presented itself to her.

“Finally awake, are you?” it was the organic, “Well, welcome to lab 74xQ9! The best lab in the galaxy!”

“Would you like a tour?” the organic asked, “Please, guards, stand her up.”

Two burly guards pulled her roughly to her feet, she was still weak. She noticed as she stood up that there was some sort of device on her hands. She tried to use her abilities but an even more powerful electric jolt was shot through her form, she fell, once again to her knees.

The organic turned around, either having heard her fall, scream, or had seen it coming, “Trying to leave so soon? Don’t worry that won’t be happening. You see, you’ve discovered my amplifying device! Isn’t it incredible? It can amplify any power or energy that is run through it!”

Yellow’s cheeks flushed at the loud shriek she had let out as she crashed to the ground, but her pride wasn��t nearly as hurt as she was. Her breathing was heavy and ragged. How are they so advanced? They’re almost as technologically advanced as u-....

“Wondering how I got my hands on such a powerful device? Easy! Stealing from your soldiers was like taking candy from a baby. Then my colleagues and I just modified your own technology! Isn’t that ironic? Something you made to keep your own kind prisoner is now holding you captive!” it laughed. “It’s genius!”

Yellow had recovered from the shock, still shaking slightly. She spat on the ground.

“Kind like you doesn’t deserve-”

She was interrupted as the guards who held her slammed her face to the ground, having not taken well to the defiant insult.

“Kind like us? And what does that mean?” the organic spoke in a cold voice, having not been insulted at all. It spoke only with the intention of leading her astray, catch her in her own words.

“Disgusting, impure sediment! Imperfect-” she started listing the synonyms to the word, whilst also throwing insults.

The organic approached her from behind in the middle of her ranting and thrust off her helmet. It clattered to the floor, revealing her short curly hair. She cursed in ancient gem under her breath.

“You were saying?” it laughed. A few of the others in the room joined.

It, without warning, pulled her up from the ground by her hair, “What’s this?!” it ripped one of her gloves off, deep scars and cracks covered her arms.

“Imperfect, you said?!” it laughed again, “Hah! I bet you came out early didn’t you?! Slightly shorter than your height requirement?! That does explain the boots now doesn’t it?!”

“Come now, your highness you must admit that beings like you and I are not so different.”

The organic lifted her head, looking for a response. Nothing.

“Not much of a talker, are you?”

More nothing.

“Hm. Disappointing, I do enjoy an intelligent conversation.”

“Why would I even dream of speaking with an organic that is insistent upon humiliating me!?”

“You make a fair point, now don’t you?” it paused, a cruel smile leaking onto it’s already hideous face, “Why, I have just the thing!”

It grabbed the device that was keeping her in bondage and lugged her up by it. It walked her into the opposite room, and thrust her back onto the ground. As she looked up in horror it spoke,

“The presence of another diamond will surely make for a more pleasant atmosphere, don’t you think?”

“Blue!” she groaned knowingly, they had Blue of course they had Blue!

Blue! In all of this time she had forgotten! She had forgotten again! And now, there she was dangling from cords and mechanical devices, her face and eyes were sunken. She must not have destabilized because there was still blood spattered over her, her dress torn and dirty. Yellow wanted to cry out, to run to her side and fix the horrible mess she made. She wanted so badly to be on homeworld. Even in front of White. She would take any punishment from her over this.

“Oh! I’ve really struck a bullseye with this!” it’s voice was like a sword scraping against a metal floor, terrible and cold, “Companionship?! You?!” It laughed again.

“I never thought that would be in your nature! We beings or war know how unhelpful it is to have attachment to anyone on the battlefield! You are far more stupid than I thought, oh great, Yellow diamond.” it called mockingly.

“What have you done to her?” she choked out the words.

“We’ve simply hooked her up to a device which I call, The Extractor. Not very creative, but I like to keep things simple when keeping my lab space organized. Anyway, as the name suggests, it extracts her aura, which will make a very useful gas on the battlefield, the enemy will drop like flies from sheer grief, and it extracts her essence, which allows us to create our own gem warriors! She will be most useful.”

Yellow could only look at the ground, a small croak of fear and horror left her unwillingly.

“What’s that? You want me to demonstrate how it works?! Why, of course, my diamond.”

It bowed and then pressed a few buttons on a keypad near where Blue was dangling, lifelessly. Her limp form was suddenly reanimated unnaturally with the force of the machine. She was awoken from her numb sleep, with her own screams of pain.

“Stop! Stop it! Stop! Stop!” Yellow tried to stand up, but fell to the ground, sobbing without tears.

“If you insist.” the machine whirred to a halt, Blue resumed her numb form. Lifeless. Empty.

“What do you want from me?” she sobbed.

“What do I want? Allow me to explain.” it walked a few paces across the room and picked up a beaker, “Do you know what this is?”

Yellow remained silent, slightly confused to how this answered her question.

“Of course you don’t. This is a serum which can turn any gem into a programmable weapon. A machine with death at its heels. Merciless. Powerful, entirely obedient. Perfect.”

It continued to monologue, “If injected into the form of a gem they instantly become our weapon of death and destruction. Imagine the power we could hold if we-”

“Used it on a diamond. You want to-” she interrupted.

“Yes, but I would prefer not to. A programmable machine cannot think freely, someone must be behind it. You have war strategy skills, that I begrudgingly admit, exceed my own. If you were to join my forces willingly…..” it sighed, “The victories would be endless!”

“Why would I join you?”

“Well, for one, you don’t have a choice. You either join willingly or I will use my serum on you. With all of my serum used up on you, if you refuse, I have no use for your… uh…. Friend here, her essence and aura will run out eventually. And though I hate to waste the entire batch of my serum on you…. I’m willing to make that sacrifice… But the real question is...,” its fingers drifted to the keypad, “Are you?”

The organic, more hideous to Yellow than before, strode to the doorway, “I’ll give you a moment to think this all over…” It laughed for a moment, it seemed to be fond of doing so, “This is so much fun! Willingly or Unwillingly? Free or Enslaved? To be or not To be? Hah! Good luck, your majesty!”

The thing bowed mockingly which seemed to be for the millionth time and promptly made it’s exit. And then she was left with her thoughts. They seemed to have stopped for the moments of dialogue and humiliation, everything having happened too quickly to have reacted. Now she was left with only her. Panic.

The room seemed to spin. Everything was suddenly so huge and so tiny at the same time. Her breath grew incredibly fast and heavy. Breath in, out. In. Out. In. Out. In… Faster and faster. Eyes. Tears. Dear stars, why were there tears. Her hands and cheeks were wet with hot tears which were spilling down her face, and down her nose. She had really messed up this time.

“I’m so sorry!” she cried into the ground, for she could do nothing else. Looking at Blue was like trying to face what a terrible mess she had gotten herself and everyone else into.

So many shattered.

What have you done?

Tortured.

They tortured her.

Your fault.

All of this is your fault!

You’ve failed everyone!!!

A thought suddenly broke through everything else. White. White. What is White going to do to you for this? White. White! Your communicator!

Do I have enough strength left to-? She used all her strength to attempt to summon the communicator from her gem. After what felt like a lifetime ticking by in only a minute, the communicator fell to the floor. Relieved, she took a moment to try and use her elbows to turn the panels to white. A glow. A hum.

“Ahh, so that’s why you’re late.”

“White!” she cried excitedly, having been never so relieved to have heard the passive-aggressive, cold voice, “I-I mean, my diamond.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“Blue and I have been captured, the mission has been compromised. I’m so sorry for my failure, but we need a rescue team. Could you send someone?”

“You’re lucky I have an army stationed on a nearby planet. I’ll send them right away.”

White must have noticed Yellow’s grateful and relieved expression.

“This doesn’t mean I like you.” Yellow thought she heard a touch of kindness from somewhere inside the voice.

“Thank you, White,” she said quietly.

She simply rolls her eyes, “We’re discussing you’re failure when you arrive back on Homeworld.”

White moved to discommunicate when Yellow stopped her, “One more thing!”

She raised an eyebrow again.

“Can you detonate the communicator? It would really help-”

“Yes, yes, fine. Don’t get yourself exploded, it would be a waste of resources.”

She clicked a button. The hum died. The communicator glowed from red to white and back to red again.

Yellow kicked it into the control panel and keypad that controlled The Extractor. In an attempt to shield Blue from the blast, she stood near where she hung, lifelessly. Yellow winced slightly as the blast went off and she and Blue were flung across the room into a heap of rubble.

Alarms. Commands. The door burst open.

“What did you-” the organic was flustered, “Ahh, a communicator. I really am stupid. Who did you contact? Your armies?”

She said nothing.

After a moment of contemplation it laughed, “Well then, that wasn’t too terrible of a mistake on my part. Your armies have been exhausted. Calling them was pointless!”

It looked, slightly weary, around, the sounds of war going on outside. It yelled words in a language Yellow didn’t know, in frustration.

“Guards!” It summoned it’s soldiers, “Take them both to the holding cells. Separate ones!”

As the guards stood her up, it looked into her face, “Don’t think I’m done with you! You still have a decision to make.”

She and Blue, who was still unconscious, were lugged into gem-holding cells and thrown into them violently. The sound of the war raging outside. They wouldn’t stand a chance, poor fools. Yellow almost felt bad for them. Almost. White’s army was the most ruthless and strong force in the entire galaxy.

After waiting an excruciatingly long time, two white and grey bubbles appeared at the cell doors. They drifted in mechanically and collected the contents. Yellow tried to look through the bubble’s opaque glassy shell, to be completely certain that the other bubble had actually collected the opposite cell’s contents. She could barely make out the rest of the world outside of her capsule.

When the bubbles spilled their contents onto the floor of the rescue ship a few gems rushed forwards to take care of their monarchs. One snapped Yellows bonds. Another examined Blue’s condition with a worried expression.

“Will she be alright?” Yellow asked, trying to mask her intense worry in front of her subjects.

It simply nodded and held up a needle to Yellow’s hand, “My diamond, would you like to peacefully destabilize? Your stats are uneven, and your form is exhausted. It would help.”

Yellow nodded, “Could you make sure Blue gets one, to?”

“Of course, my diamond.”

A couple of other gems gathered around her, “Relax.” they said. Needle. Prick. The pain was quick. A warmth spread across her body, it didn’t hurt. And then she was gone.

She was gone.

Thank the stars.

……….

Awake.

Yellow. Yellow. Gold. Blue. Yellow. Grey. Yellow. Yellow. White. Yellow. Grey. Grey. Yellow. Grey. Grey. Grey. Grey…

She sat up, “Gerroff.” she grumbled absent-mindedly. The tiny things tending to her fell to the ground with squeals of nervousness. Pebbles were not supposed to be seen. Yellow didn’t care enough to swish them away, she was just grateful to be in her quarters.

“Pearl?” she muttered, still not fully awake, the process of reforming ebbing away slowly.

“Ah! My diamond, you’re back!” her pearl rushed forward, saluted, and bowed.

Yellow pressed the bridge of her nose and rubbed her eyes, “I assume White Diamond wishes to speak to me?”

“Yes, my diamond, she wanted to meet with you as soon as you reformed.”

“Great,” she muttered sarcastically. “Well, then I would probably do well to do so.”

Yellow heaved a great sigh, “Well… I’m off. I’ll be back soon enough, Pearl.”

The pearl simply bowed as she exited the room.

Yellow fidgeted nervously, the yellow halls turning to silver. Back on that blasted planet, she wished desperately to be on Homeworld, and now that she was actually here…. An audience with White seemed so much more terrifying now that she was actually in the hall toward her quarters.

She reached the door. She pressed her hand to the pad next to it. She took a deep breath. The doors opened.

“Enter.” came the dangerously calm voice.

She walked in briskly, afraid of looking cowardly. She bowed.

“My Diamond.”

“Yellow Diamond… Back from the dead. Hopefully, I have a good reason to have used my armies to fetch you...”

Yellow gulped.

…………….

She left the silver and white chambers with a sinking feeling in her form. White had a way of making anyone and anything feel like worthless sediment even by just being in her presence. Though, this meeting went far better than most of her meetings. Yellow only left the room with bruised pride instead of a bruised arm, too. It was a slight change, but a change nonetheless.

After she reentered her chambers, she fell heavily into her throne and sighed. She opened up a screen and stared at it. She tried to make her hands do work, her eyes to scan the reports, but nothing came. She wanted so badly to avoid the fear that was slowly taking over her. A shaky breath.

“Pearl?”

“Yes, my Diamond?”

“Contact Blue pearl.”

The pearl gulped, “... Blue pearl, my diamond?”

“Yes,” she sighed, “Inquire about Blue diamond.”

“Inquire about …. what, my Diamond?” pearl asked timidly.

Yellow grew irritated, “Well, ask her if Blue Diamond has reformed yet or not!” she burst out angrily.

“Y- Yes my diamond, r-right away.”

There was a pause as the tiny pearl did as her diamond commanded. Yellow knew she should be working, but her mind was so uneasy that working would not be an option. She tapped her fingers impatiently. There was a small beep from the tiny device the pearl held.

“Well?” she asked.

“Blue pearl says that Blue diamond reformed three days ago.”

A sigh, “Thank you, pearl… That’s all I needed.”

She got up from her chair, if she couldn’t avoid her dread by working, she would have to face it. Dear stars! She thought Why is this harder than facing White?

She walked down the hallway, wringing her hands. When she finally reached the door, she debated on whether she was going to actually open it. She actually thought about turning back to her quarters… She lay a hand on the door, Blue must have heard her walking down the hall from inside her quarters.

“You may enter.” she called politely.

The door hissed open. Blue was sitting on a windowsill overlooking homeworld, she jumped slightly, surprised to see another diamond. The footsteps she had heard did not sound like the ones she was used to from Yellow.

Yellow stood in the doorway. She suddenly forgot what she was to say, or even how to speak. When she looked at the beautiful Blue gem on the windowsill, all she could see was the one who had been limp and broken back in the lab on that wretched planet.

“You’re back.” she croaked, a voice from deep inside her form somehow finding a way to escape.

“I’m back.” she whispered with a sad smile.

With that Yellow laughed quietly, tears springing to her eyes, the laughter quickly turning to violent sobs. She pressed her hand to the wall to try and steady herself, when that failed, she slid down the wall to her knees.

“Yellow?!” Blue rushed to her side, concerned.

Yellow curled into herself, unable to breathe properly, everything seemed so overwhelming again. Suddenly, everything was her fault and everything weighed more and her tears were painful to cry. Everything was so everything.

“Yellow?” Blue’s voice faded in, more concerned then before, “Yellow, are you alright?”

She wanted to respond, but she didn’t know what words to say, or if she could even say them. She couldn’t breath. She wanted space, but wanted to be with someone. She wanted to be held, without feeling suffocated.

“Is your gem cracked? What- what’s wrong? What’s happening?”

“Just-...give me...a minute.” she choked between sharp breaths.

“O-... ok.” Blue backed away.

There was a long few minute pause as the golden gem started collecting herself and was finally able to breathe fairly steadily again.

“Are you-....are you alright?” Blue started, frightened.

Yellow’s face finally emerged, after she dropped her hands from her face. It was tired and looked much older than it should’ve.

Her whole form still shook from the past few minutes, she looked like she could fall apart again at any moment.

“I don’t-... can’t-... we couldn’t b- beat them!” she spoke broken sentences as tears poured down her face, “This is-... is all my fault! I shoul-... should’ve been strong enough… but then everyone got-.... They hurt you-.... I shouldn’t-... I-...”

And then she fell apart again, blubbering nonsense as she tried to make sense of everything that ran through her head. Yellow was only 3,000 some years old, and this, the first battle she had ever lost, and had she not have been more careful, she could’ve lost everything.

She hated the feeling of tears, tears were like liquid weakness in her mind. She shouldn’t be this way, she was made to be strong, powerful, cunning, and …. Perfect. Now,... she wasn’t sure if she was capable of any of those things.

As she fell apart Blue rushed back to her side, she raised a hand to wipe away Yellow’s tears, but faltered. She looked into Yellow’s eyes as if to ask permission, unsure if it was ok to comfort her openly now. The eyes were deeper and sadder, not yet hardened and tired as they would become in the next few thousand years, they seemed to accept the Blue pair of eyes staring back.

Hesitant still, Blue gently wiped away the tears with her thumb, the palm of her hand resting on Yellow’s cheek. With the other hand she ran her delicate fingers through Yellow’s short, curly, yellow-orange hair, after quietly removing her helmet.

“Since when did you start wearing this all of the time?” she murmured, referring to the tall, pointy helmet that she used to only wear during battles.

It took her a moment to respond, “Since always.” she replied like an indignant young gem. Though, she was incredibly thankful Blue didn’t mention her gloves, she wasn’t ready to have that conversation.

“Liar.” she laughed and gently kissed her forehead.

“I started wearing it after White told me to hide my hair…” she muttered, ashamed, “.... and it makes me look as tall as I’m supposed to be.”

“Well, I think your hair is perfect.” Blue replied.

“Yeah, well…” she wanted to say something more, but a more pressing thought blocked out the rest of the sentence.

Yellow shook her head realizing that she had been doing this whole thing wrong…. This should be the other way around.

“I came to apologize to you! You’re the real victim of this whole thing! Why-... why’re you-...?” Yellow didn’t understand.

“I wasn’t the only victim, Yellow…” she was still very intent on comforting her.

Yellow struggled away, not feeling deserving of the affection, “B-But, they tortured you!”

“And they clearly tortured you too.” Blue looked back up at her, “No offense Yellow, but you’re a mess.”

“I-... but-.. But I-...” she stammered, “But that’s just me! “

Blue stood up, “Exactly, this whole ordeal has tortured you. They got under your skin, didn’t they?”

“I-...” Yellow tried to protest, “Yes…”

Blue took her hand, “Just let me help you.”

Yellow’s cheeks flushed, “But-... that’s my job. I came here to help you…”

“You already did.”

“And how the stars did I do that?!”

“You came to visit me of your own accord, and were open with me about your feelings. It’s not everyday that Yellow Diamond does something like that!” Blue smiled, “And then after all of that, you let me help you. I like helping you, it makes me feel… useful... in a way… After getting captured and losing the battle, I felt- felt pretty-... pretty weak… and worthless and-...”

Her voice grew small, a few tears flickered in her eyes.

“Hah… sorry.” she laughed them away, “What I mean to say is…. You simply being here with me is the best I’ve felt in a long while.”

She reached up her arms and hugged her golden companion, “I love you.” she whispered.

Yellow’s eyes grew wide, she felt more tears spring to her eyes, but this time she didn’t hate them. She returned the embrace and buried her face in Blue’s silvery hair.

“You… are the strongest gem I’ve ever met…” she whispered just loud enough for Blue to hear,

“Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

16 notes · View notes

loftyexecutor · 4 years

Text

somnium vidisse se dicat in extremis orbis terrarum - 3

Chapter; 3 Rating; T+ WC; 1656 TWs; medical things, needles Pairing; AddElsAin [transform] AU; modern/dreamsharing scifi Summary; Being the best in the industry had its perks. Herrscher’s name was known far and wide, work offers coming in left and right, extort this, extort that. But that still didn’t stop his boyfriend from getting too tangled up in one of his dreams and switching places with the shade in his head. The shade that he had offered to extort ages ago. Fuck, this is a mess. Notes; heres the joke okay please laugh

illustrated by @declawedcat♥

PREVIOUS | AO3

Herrsch stood with his back to the group, scribbling onto the whiteboard that he'd pulled out. Because what good lab didn't have a whiteboard on hand? He’d felt bad about erasing Dox’s latest theory, but… well.

"Morphy, you will be our anchor in layer one," he said. She was the most experienced architect of them all, maybe save Sariel, but he needed Sariel inside the dream itself. "Do you have a stable dreamscape on hand?"

Morphy laughed, like twinkling bells, though her eyes were set and determined. "When do I not? I think you'll like it, I was in the middle of showing it off before I was so crudely taken away from my exposeé."

If he didn't know she was joking, Herrsch would have felt bad.

"Glad to hear it. You will keep Conwell as a failsafe, in case anyone needs to be booted." Hopefully they wouldn't. Hope was all he had. "Immo is already anchored in layer two. He… shouldn't be on layer three. We will recon, Laby, you will be the anchor in layer two if he's not there. Otherwise, you are anchoring layer three."

Laby kicked out with a leg, throwing her arms up into the air. Twilight barely held her stable. "Laby will tell Nisha, we will be the best anchor! Pinky promise!"

And because Herrsch wasn't an asshole, he held out his own pinky to twine with hers. The brilliant smile he got as a reward was almost enough to convince him everything was fine.

"Nova, me and you will act as the extractors. Queen and… Iblis and Anular will stabilize the dream if it starts falling apart. Sariel and Prime will be the inside architects. Make sure not to alter too much."

He got a couple nods back. He wasn't used to being the one in charge of large operations, that had usually been either Immo or Nova, back when they had all been part of the DDTP. It made him grateful that he knew these people, knew their ins and outs, what made them tick. Dreaming with more than four people made things imbalanced, so much more prone to going awry.

But they've worked together before.

"Centurion, Shakti, you're on outside duty. Do what you know best."

"You flatterer," Shakti laughed, and he didn't miss the pointed look Queen shot him, or the way Shakti reached over to wind an arm around her shoulders.

"Dox will be our layering overwatch. We can pull him out when Morphy establishes her anchor.”

He turned to the whiteboard. Now, how the hell does he explain his mess of a timeline and arrows going anywhere in something of a comprehensible fashion?

"Laby was thinking." All eyes turned to the girl. She was lucky Twilight didn't seem to mind her kicking, because the way her legs swung was almost violent at this point. "Now that we are a team again, shouldn't we have a name? Like um… the Els search party!"

"Laby," Prime started softly, "we aren't… looking for El— Immo. We are just going to grab him."

"But Herrsch just said he didn't know if Els was on the second or third layer! That makes us a search party! And ‘Immo search party’ doesn’t roll off the tongue!"

"La—"

"That's fine," Herrsch said, shaking his head in the general direction of Prime. “Would you like to be called the Els search party, Laby?”

“Yes!”

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

“The dream is crumbling,” Conwell pointed out, watching one of the floating cubes jerk in mid-air, stutter, and fall to the ground where it crumbled into sparkling dust.

Dox made a noncommittal noise, fingers gripping the edge of the cube he sat on, bobbing gently up and down. It still seemed solid enough. “I was never the best choice for an anchor. If it comes too close, I will have to boot us.”

“Would it not be easier to rewind the dream itself?”

“No, rewinding at this point would just speed up the process.”

Conwell hummed in acquiescence, turning back to his cube-watching. Maybe it would have been better to let Shakti hold him until they were ready. Her dream at least had people in them, constructs to populate it. Here, they only had the cubes, and each other. And Dox was about as good a conversation partner as one of the mute cubes, if he were honest, which he wasn’t, thank you very much.

Dox had spent much of his time in this place. If he were alone, the dream wouldn’t crumble, or at the very least, it would take much longer for it to start. Hopping from layer to layer of the same dream somehow made it more stable. Dox had a few hypotheses for why that was, but nothing concrete yet.

He looked down at his phone. Notifications littered the screen, constantly moving to and fro, still unreadable, but the time now read 91:67. Yes, it seemed the dream was truly collapsing in on itself, if even the analog clock turned into a digital and read something like that.

The time was running out.

"Well, the grass isn't getting any greener," he mumbled, looking down at the decidedly blue grass. "Let me boot us ou—"

He didn't get the chance to finish his sentence. An earthquake shook the ground under them; his cube decided to give out and tumble to the ground, shattering under him and leaving Dox to sprawl on stone, because of course it would bleed through the grass right then. Of course.

At least he wouldn't carry any bruises out of the dream.

“It seems we are just in time.”

Dox looked up to see Herrsch standing in the middle of the endless field, offering a hand that he graciously took to pull himself up. “Everything set up?”

“Thankfully.” Herrsch hesitated for but a moment. “The whole of DDT team came together.”

Dox’s brows did an impressive dance as bewilderment, gratitude, enlightenment, annoyance and resignation flashed across his features. “Even her?”

“Yes. She will just be a backup architect, to keep Immo’s dream from, well…” Herrsch looked around at all the falling cubes, like oversized comets crashing to the ground.

Dox scoffed. “Point taken. I had just hoped not to work with Sariel again.”

Dox’s old crush on Sariel was no secret to anyone, and neither was the borderline-rude way she turned him down and the unspoken animosity between them. “It’s for Immo,” was all Herrsch could say, and it seemed to simultaneously placate and frustrate Dox further.

“I know, I know! Let’s get it over with.”

Herrsch didn’t expect the way Dox’s foot shot out to kick his ankle out, even though he should have. He didn’t have enough time to make a peep before he crashed to the ground and woke up.

Dox turned to Conwell, who was pointedly pretending not to look their way. Dox’s lips curled up.

“Time to go, old man. Want me to trip you, too?”

Conwell mirrored his smile, somber. “No, that won’t be necessary.”

Dox’s smile stayed as a cube changed its trajectory of fall and crashed so close behind Conwell it made his cloak billow. The shade jumped, turned his head halfway, and then he was gone.

Left alone in his dream, Dox spent a minute more watching as it repaired itself, cubes righting themselves, continuing their lazy way across the horizon, the grass that no longer had traces of stone underneath, the sky that twinkled with far-away lights, endless and bottomless around the wide grass pathway winding off into the distance.

Maybe he will add something to this dream, make the cubes more detailed, some gilded edges or something. Maybe a couple of buildings, so they would finally have something to explore instead of standing around, to show off to Immo when he’s back to being himself.

Maybe. When he was sure it wouldn’t collapse so easily.

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

Dox awoke to a room full of people, hectically trying to move dream chairs into some sensible shape to fit into the lab, checking resources, hooking up extra equipment and… was Laby throwing paper balls at people?

Fuck, he missed these guys.

He opened his mouth to announce himself, but found his throat dry as a desert. He didn’t want to unhook himself from the ADSSU, no point since they’d be going back in in just a few moments, so he just knocked on the armrest with his free hand.

It grabbed Centurion’s attention, who grinned widely.

“Long time no see, Dox,” he greeted. His smile fell somewhat at Dox’s prolonged silence, but he understood once he nodded his head towards the movable trolley housing plethora of extra needles, IV tubes, painkillers, and, most importantly, bottled water on the bottom.

He handed Dox one of those, and Dox gratefully took it, gulping down no less than half of it in one go. “Fuck,” he croaked, “That’s a little better. Thanks, Centurion.”

“Anytime. Want us to lower your dosage?”

“No, I’ll get booted if my levels drop even a little. We’ll be going in soon anyways, right?”

“Yeah, as soon as everyone’s settled in. Glad I brought the extra chairs, haha. Morphy is already in, building up her dreamscape. You could probably join, since you’re doped up. Which, no judgement, but I have to point out— how the fuck are you still alive?”

Dox laughed, head thrown back. Which he instantly regretted, as it made another headache spike in his head. “I’m one tough motherfucker to kill,” he said, squeezing his eyes closed and feeling like the polar opposite of what he had just said. One of these days, a headache would do him in. His tombstone would read ‘Died due to a head cave-in. RIP’. What a way to go.

Centurion placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed for a second before upping the IV and plugging his cables into the mainframe of the ADSSU. “Keep it that way.”

#elsword #addelsain #.elsword #.addelsain #.adssu

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dannifielding · 4 years

Text

When I don’t feel like writing, or when I’m hiding from writing Danni, I tend to fall into rewatching Supernatural. And, as such, Amelia tends to rear her head and I get flashes of scenes from the episodes I’m watching.

I’m an OC fangirl, sue me :P

Anyway, I don’t know if anyone is interested, but this is what I write when I’m not writing Danni. I’ve tried to put them in some order, and most of them kinda just... stop. I just thought some of you might be interested 🤷‍♀️

It’s very long, so under the cut.

Also, you may notice a change in ship. She jumps, a lot. I mean, I don’t blame her, it’s a very hard choice, but be warned.

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Season 06- somewhere near the middle

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

“I’ll go get Amelia,” Sam declared, standing up from the small table. Dean nodded his agreement as he continued to look through the case files.

“Tell her to Fed up,” he instructed and Sam rolled his eyes.

“What else would I tell her?” he countered. “I’m not an idiot.”

“Coulda fooled me,” Dean retorted and Sam glared, resisted the urge to stick his tongue out at him, and stormed out of the room and to the one next door. He knocked on the door a few times.

“Amelia, we’re found something,” he called but there was no answer. He frowned and knocked again. “Amelia?”

There was still no answer, which was rather unusual and gave him enough concern to pull his gun out along with the spare keycard to her room. He unlocked it and stepped cautiously in. “Amelia?” he tried. “Are you here?”

There was no one in her room, but also no sign of any struggle or any distress at all. There was the sound of the extractor fan in the bathroom though and he lowered his gun, feeling rather ridiculous and also rather glad that Dean wasn’t there to see his over reaction. He walked over, all ready to knock on the door and let her know.

“Fuck.” He froze, hand up to knock on the door, at the loud moan that came from the bathroom. “Fuck, Cas.”

When his brain kicked into gear, his first overwhelming thought was horror, then embarrassment, then a little bit feeling gross that he’d caught his childhood friend in a rather compromising position.

He then thought, as the childish part of him reared its rarely seen head, about telling Dean and how they could tease the hell out of her for having to spend her time solo.

“Amy…”

The gruff voice was a lot more startling and his eyes widened because he didn’t struggle to place it at all. It was a voice he wouldn’t have bet any money on hearing. Were they…

He turned and walked straight out, only taking the time to close the door quietly so they didn’t know he was there. He walked straight back into his and Dean’s room and stood by the door. Amelia hooking up with someone wasn’t exactly news, it was just one of the things she had in common with his brother. Cas, though… How did that even work?!

“Did she say how long she’d be?” Dean asked, fastening his cuff on his shirt. He hated wearing the shirt. He felt like he was going to a wedding. He glanced over at Sam and frowned at the look on his face. “Everything alright?”

“Um, I don’t think she’s coming,” Sam replied, then immediately grimaced at his choice of words.

“Why?” Dean asked.

“She’s- uh- she’s a bit busy,” he replied, pointedly. “In the bathroom.”

“In the…” Dean started before his eyes lit up. “Oh! Walked in on her riding the train solo, eh?”

He was smirking slightly but Sam shook his head. “Not solo,” he corrected and Dean’s mind suddenly filled with a million and one more ideas.

“Man or woman?” he asked.

“Angel.”

Dean frowned. “Angel?” he repeated and Sam nodded. They weren’t exactly best buddies with the angels, and most of them were dickless ken dolls, who the hell would…

His eyebrows shot up. “Cas?” he asked and Sam nodded.

“Oh yeah,” he confirmed. “Getting pretty hot and heavy as well.”

“How do you know? Getting a good listen, were you?” Dean shot back. Sam didn’t appreciate the tease, but Dean did appreciate his offended response.

“No, they were,” he pulled a face, “loud.”

Dean scoffed. “Nah, I’m not buying it,” he said bluntly. “She’s always had a little crush on him, but this is Cas. Cas. He wouldn’t know what to do with a naked chick even if she was stood in front of him explaining the instructions.” He pointed at the wall. “In fact, we took him to strip club and he did exactly that.”

“I’m telling you, it was pretty clear- Wait, you took an angel to a stripclub? When was that?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Dean dismissed. “That can’t be Cas. She must have just been getting a bit carried away.”

Thud!

They both looked at the wall that separated the two rooms like it was about to break down and reveal something worse than hell behind it. There was another thud.

“Bar?” Sam asked and Dean nodded.

“Bar.”

~0~0~0~

Amelia checked again to see if the light was on in the room next door. It was dark now, and getting late and neither brother seemed to be about. They’d not left her any messages, or asked her to go with them, so she assumed they hadn’t disappeared on anything case-related, but it was always a little concerning when people in their line of business weren’t where they were supposed to be.

The first time she’d checked she’d given them the benefit of the doubt, the second time though was rather more worrying and so she knew she had to find them. She was about to call Dean when she heard the distinct roar of a ’67 engine and relaxed slightly. The Impala pulled up and she held her hands out in confusion.

“Where the hell did you two go to?” she asked as Dean climbed out first.

She looked annoyed and confused, but Dean immediately remembered the thud on the wall. “To the bar. We found a lead,” he explained, storming to the door to their room.

She followed him in. “I didn’t hear you go,” she said. “When did you leave?”

“Like, three hours ago,” he replied, pulling off his jacket. God, formal wear was just awful. How did people wear suits all day?

“Wait, what?” she asked. “Why didn’t you come get me?”

“You- er- you were busy,” Sam offered, pointedly, as he locked the door behind him.

“No, I wasn’t. I could have come too,” she protested. “Why are you leaving me out of this?”

Dean looked at her,unimpressed by her anger. He motioned between him and Sam. “Oh, we’re not leaving you out of anything,” he told her.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Sam went to go get you. He walked in on you getting off in the bathroom.”

She wasn’t expecting that. She tried not to act too surprise, instead going on the defense. “I was having a shower, Dean,” she corrected.

“No, you weren’t.”

She glared at him. “Fine, whatever,” she exclaimed. “Like you’ve never gotten a bit frisky when you’re on the road and needed some time on your own.”

“Oh, I hold my hands up to that,” Dean replied before he pointed at her. “But you weren’t alone, were you?”

“Yes, I was…”

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

Season 06 Episode 18

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Cas touched them both on the top of the head, and they were gone. His arms lowered rigidly and he turned to look at Amelia. He could sense her unease, and he didn’t blame her. He was confident in his ability to bring back Sam and Dean, but there were bigger issues that may stop him. He needed to be careful, everything hung in the balance and if he failed them, if he failed her…

Castiel!

He grimaced, unable to meet their gaze. “I have to go.”

“Already?” she asked, a little surprise. “Cas, you’re exhausted.”

“I’m fine,” he said, hoping to reassure her but immediately realised how sharp his tone had been. He met her gaze and her concern did not abait. “I’m fine,” he said, this time softer.

Bobby cleared his throat, uncomfortable. “What about getting the boys back?”

“Pray for me in 24 hours, and I’ll return.”

“I’ll pray for all of us,” Bobby muttered, turning around to pick up the timer. By the time he looked around, Cas had disappeared in a flutter of wings. He started the countdown and looked at his goddaughter, who was staring at where Cas had been stood. He still wasn’t sure how much he approved of her and Castiel, but she was happy, and ultimately that’s all that really mattered to him.

“You alright there, Princess?” he asked and she looked at him like she’d forgotten that he was there.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m—I’ll be fine,” she told him. “Beer?” He nodded and she headed into the kitchen and opened the fridge. She then immediately shut it. “How are we out of beer?” she muttered to herself. It was a pretty strong staple in their house, the milk went sour before they ran out of the good stuff. “Uncle Bobby, gotta nip to the store!”

“Alright, Princess.”

She grabbed the keys to the Impala – Dean would never know, nor did he need it right now – and smiled to herself. “I might drop in on Jody,” she called. “Want me to send her your love?”

“Piss off.”

She chuckled to herself as she stepped outside. She liked to spend time with Jody, they got on rather well and it was nice to have someone who knew about the bad in the world yet still lived a normal life.

She started when the door shut behind her and Cas was stood there. She frowned. “I thought you had to go?” she asked him as she walked over. “Is everything alright?”

Her concern felt both wonderful and incredibly deceitful, as every encounter they had together now did. She was always worried something would happen to him, that he would get hurt, but he knew that the moment she found out what he’d done then it would all fade away and he would be left with nothing.

“You seemed concerned,” he told her. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“I am concerned, I want you to be okay,” she replied, using his own words against him.

“I am fine,” he promised.

“You’re tired,” she countered. “I can see it, Cas. You know you can’t hide anything from me. Me being concerned for you isn’t going to change.”

Again, it was like a stab in the heart for him. “I don’t want you to worry about me.”

She smiled slightly. “I don’t want you to worry about me,” she told him. A small little smile broke out on his own face as he realised that she was pointing out the pointlessness of him trying to stop her being concerned for his wellbeing. He’d never stop worrying about her.

“I suppose it would be fruitless if I tried to convince you that you don’t need to?” he stated and she nodded along.

“Can I convince you that, although worried, I am also fine?” she asked and he shook his head.

“No, I guess not,” he said and she shuffled slightly on the spot, smiling fondly at him.

“I’m fine, Cas,” she promised. “I’m sure you can’t spare the time to check on me every time you see me frown.”

He couldn’t. It was definitely out of the question, but he’d not been able to stay away when he’d seen the look on her face. He never could.

Castiel!

His head hung. “I have to go,” he told her before looking at her, desperately hoping she could offer him a reason to stay that he could, in all good conscience, take.

All she could do was smile sadly in her own heartache. “If you need me to come, Cas, if you need me to fight…”

“I will,” he cut her off before she could finish her offer. He never would. He wouldn’t risk it, even if he had no other option. He gave her a little head bow and disappeared.

She stared for a moment before taking a deep, sad, shaking breath. Every time he disappeared in the flutter of wings, she worried that he would never go back. She knew it was both foolish and selfish, but she didn’t worry about him losing the war, she worried about losing him to the war. She worried her hands together and she pulled herself together. She wasn’t going to cry, or mope about. Sam and Dean were in the past finding the ash of a phoenix for their big task, her Uncle Bobby was doing his best to help cull the rise of the monsters they had seen. She needed to pull her weight, and at the moment that meant fetching the beer and visiting her friend.

She really wished she’d kissed him, though. She would hate to regret that if something…

She shook her head and purposefully turned towards the Impala, about to barate herself for being such a sap.

Cas was stood right behind her. She almost walked straight into him. Instead he grabbed her and pulled her in for the kiss she’d wanted to give him. He held her tightly, like she was all he wanted and it never failed to make her insides flutter. She clung to him just as tightly and wondered, for a moment, if the war could just wait a few minutes.

He broke off and pressed his forehead against her. “I really have to go,” he told her lowly. “I want to stay.”

“I want you to stay too,” she told him. “We’ll get some time next time around.”

It was hope they both had, and a fact that was diminishing every day. They both missed each other terribly, and it was something they couldn’t share. There were bigger things going on, and neither of them wanted the burden of being too sad.

With one, last, briefest kiss he was gone and this time she knew he wasn’t coming back. Well, not until it was time to bring back Sam and Dean.

Still, she smiled coyly to herself and did a little, happy dance on the spot. She’d gotten her kiss, and it was good.

She then quickly looked up at the sky. “You better not still be watching me,” she warned the air before she finally climbed into the Impala

Despite how much he wanted to, Cas wasn’t watching her. Her Uncle Bobby was, though. He watched her out of the window with Castiel, watched how happy she became just at him being there, and couldn’t help but feel a little happy himself. The ‘dad’ part of him didn’t want anyone near his little girl – man, woman or angel. However, times were crap and any sort of goodness was more than welcome, and he was glad it was happening for her.

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

Season 06 Episode 18 Ending

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

“You can’t be serious. You’ve only just healed yourself up, will you just sit down for a few minutes?”

“I can’t,” he snapped, frustrated not with her, but with how many times they’d had the same conversation, always wishing for a different outcome. “With Rachel, I need to find out who else is turning against me before it’s too deep to stop.”

She understood, she really did. It was just so hard to watch him go. But he didn’t need her to be clingy, he needed support. “You better come back,” she warned.

“I always do,” he replied. He looked at Dean. “If you need my assistance…”

“Yeah, we’ll call,” Dean finished for him. “Just- Just take care of yourself, man.”

It was an uncomfortable sign of affection, but Cas took it gratefully. “I will endeaver to do so,” he told them all. Just as he readied himself to disappear, to head back to what was going to be a messy cleanup and more paranoia, Amelia’s hand shot out and caught his.

She didn’t look at him straight away as her heart pounded painfully. More than ever, something felt very wrong with her angel and the panic was almost overwhelming. Their life was full of darkness at times but she was suddenly hit with a wave of pure terror at the idea of him leaving.

She looked up and met his gaze. “I love you,” she told him.

All four men were very surprised by the sudden declaration from her, but none more than Cas. They had said it to each other before, that was true, but she’d been rather open with the fact that she didn’t feel comfortable saying it in front of her family. He knew they, as a little group of illfitted humans, could contain their emotions a bit too much, and hid behind bottles of alchol. He didn’t mind, because he knew that she meant it when she said it, and he had absolutely no doubt over his own feelings for her. But hearing her say it so bluntly when he knew she would rather keep it between the pair of them gave him a rush of reassurance he didn’t know he needed.

He could do this, he could win this war, no matter what it took, because there was a beautiful, caring, hopeful woman who backed him every step of the way.

He held her hand tightly. “I adore you,” he replied before flying off.

Amelia stared at where he had been stood for a few moments more before turning to look at Sam, Dean and her Uncle. Immediately they all looked away, caught at staring at her. “Not a word,” she warned, her voice hard. She didn’t threaten them, but all of them quickly nodded.

“No, no, nothing to say,” Dean quickly agreed.

“Nope,” Sam added.

She nodded once before turning and walking out of the house. They all watched her leave before Sam turned to Dean.

“Did she…”

“Yep.”

“Do you have any idea?”

“Nope.”

~0~0~0~

Amelia wasn’t sat outside long before Dean appeared. He sat on the hood of the car, his feet dangling next to hers. “You know, I think we’re getting a bit old to be sitting on top of a pile of cars,” he commented. She didn’t reply, so he handed her the bottle of beer. They sat in silence until he took a swig.

“So, the big ‘l’ word,” he stated and she looked at him.

“Dean…” she started in warning.

“Hey, I’m not here to judge,” he promised. She relaxed slightly. “I’m just thinking that it must suck, watching him leave all the time.”

She turned to look at him, about to shoot some snarky comment about how it must have sucked leaving Lisa, when she saw the sympathetic look in his eyes. He wasn’t making fun of her, he was being there for her. Her best friend, through everything.

The lump in her throat that she didn’t seem to be able to get rid of felt like it was trying to choke her again so she swallowed it down. “I’m terrified,” she replied quietly. “All the time.” He didn’t interrupt, he just sat and listened and once she realised that she couldn’t stop. “I mean, we’ve got the Mother of all monsters roaming free down here, but we’ve got a war going on over our heads that’s bigger than anything we could even imagine. I-I thought we’d stopped the apocalypse, but it’s just a moment away from being rebooted and I should be worried, I should be focused on that but all I can think about is—” She trailed off for a moment, her voice disappearing again. “There’s this angel, in the middle of it all, who’s holding it up by the skin of his teeth and I’m going to lose him to it. I’m going to lose him to this war. Even-Even if he wins, he’s going to give everything to it and I’m going to lose him.”

She ran a hand over her mouth. Saying it in her head was fine, where she could quash it down and hide it behind a full wall of denial. There was something about saying out loud that was more devastating than any thought she’d had so far. “I’m going to lose him.”

“Hey,” Dean said, pulling close and she started crying. “You’re alright.”

She clung to him tightly, once the tears started coming they didn’t stop. The weight of the fear crushed her. She curled up towards him and he realised, for the first time, just how much she had been hiding from them all. He knew they were sleeping together, he’d known that for a while, but he’d thought it was more a friends-with-benefits type affair, with maybe with it being a little less casual. He thought she had been optimistic about everything, she was always telling him to pull his head out of his ass when he was complaining too much.

He tightened his grip on her, rocking her slightly like he had done to both her and Sam when they had been kids.

“He’ll be okay,” he promised her. “You’ll see. For a scrappy little angel he has it all under control.”

“I’m so scared, Dean,” she whimpered. “That war is going to tear him apart.”

“I know, I know,” he replied before shifting her so he could look her in her eyes. Big, wide, wet eyes that looked at him like he knew all the answers. “You’re right, it’s terrifying, but you know what? We’re not alone in this. We’re all going to be fine, we’re all going to win and we’re all coming out the other side of this, alright?” She sniffed. “Alright?”

She nodded. “Alright,” she said softly. He knew she didn’t quite agree with him, but that was alright. He could pretend a bit longer that he believed it so she would too.

“You know,” she started softly, a little timidly, after they’d sat in silence again for a while. “He took me to Disney World.”

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

Season 06 Episode 21 Ending

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

Dean scrambled into back of the car, holding Lisa as tight as he dared. Ben climbed into the front next to Sam without even thinking the moment the blonde held the door open for him.

“Amy!” he barked. “Get in the damned car!”

“There’s not enough room. Get the hospital,” she commanded.

“You can’t stay here, there’ll be more demons around,” Sam told her.

“There’s not enough room,” she repeated firmly. “I’ll make my own way. Get to the hospital, save her!” She slammed the door shut, knowing that they didn’t have time to argue with her.

Dean didn’t want to leave her there, but knew she was right and despite his concern knew that she could take care of herself. “Ben, give her the knife,” he instructed. The boy, still in shock, stared at his mother because he couldn’t see anything else. “Ben!” His gaze snapped up. “Give her the knife.”

He hadn’t said a word since the demon had poofed out of his mom, and that wasn’t any different as his handed it out of the window that Sam had already wound down for him. Amelia nodded then stepped back so Sam could zoom away. She just hoped they would be okay. She hoped they would make it in time to save her.

There was a bang behind her and she spun, knife firm in her hands. She couldn’t stay where she was, she had to move. She started running away from the warehouse, only to quickly get lost within the dark, empty streets, which seemed to be completely devoid of all traffic, so her lowjack options were no existant.

When she felt safe, she stopped, panting, placing her hand on her thighs as she tried to catch her breath. She hoped to God, if he was even still out there, that Lisa was going to be alright. No one should lose their mom like that, and Dean… she knew Dean would never forgive himself.

She needed to do something. She hated feeling so helpless, that was all she was feeling. Helpless and alone and she just wanted to be at the hospital so she could help them, but she couldn’t. She didn’t even know what town they were in. Hell, she didn’t even know the state.

She also hated that she constantly felt like she was on the verge of tears. She hadn’t cried this much in years and she hated being the emotional one. No, she didn’t mind being the emotional one, she hated being the emotionally weak one. But there she was, standing on a sidewalk, totally alone and crying because she knew the one option she had was the one she desperately didn’t want to take.

“Cas!” she screamed. “Cas! Please!”

There was a fluttering of wings and she was still on high alert, so she turned around again, knife ready as if it would have made any difference. He already looked horrified and he stepped forward. “You’re hurt,” he stated.

She held her hand out and, to his credit, he stopped in his tracks. It took her a moment to realise she was covered in blood. “No, no, it’s not mine,” she quickly told him. She then reached up to her painful nose. “Well, most of it isn’t,” she said. “Some-Some of it might be, I’m not sure.”

“What happened? Who hurt you?” he almost demanded but all she could do was stare at him. Now he was here, his eyes blazing brightly, passionately, all she wanted was to both run to him and run as far away from him as possible.

“I—” she started before shaking her head. “I shouldn’t have called you. I shouldn’t- I shouldn’t be even thinking of you, but it was the first thought that came into my head.”

He looked creastfallen, her words physically wounding him. “If you just let me explain,” he started and she shook her head.

“No, no more explaining, no more words, Cas,” she said firmly. “I don’t want to hear it, you’ve hurt me enough. I’m not going to let you again.”

“I don’t want to hurt you. I’m trying to save you,” he insisted. “I do love you, no matter what you think.”

She nodded. “I know,” she said softly. “I think that’s why what you’re doing hurts so much.” There was silence between them but, before she could falter, she took a deep breath. “We found Lisa.”

His shoulders relaxed slightly. “I’m glad,” he told her. “I was looking.”

She didn’t doubt it. “She got possessed by one of Crowley’s bitches and stabbed herself. Dean’s taking her to the hospital, but I don’t think she’ll make it. I think she’s going to die.”

That immediately took his relief away and she felt a little bit of pleasure at knowing that it did. It felt dirty, but she liked it. “I never meant for this to happen. If I had thought that Crowley would hurt them, I would have done something sooner.”

Her face hardened. “Then do something now,” she told him. “Save her.”

“Of course,” he replied. “Where are they?”

She shrugged. “I don’t even know where I am,” she said, almost whimpering. “But-But they would have gone to the nearest hospital. I-I don’t—”

She was shaking, she was in pain and he stepped forward. “You are hurt,” he said decisively. “Let me just—”

She moved instinctly away from his hand. “Don’t,” she instructed. “Don’t help me, help her. Please, Cas. Please, just-just save her. Don’t let her die.” Her voice broke and her head hung. Her hands moved in front of her until she was holding them in front of her like she was praying. “Please, if she dies, Dean will never forgive himself, and please just help him.” She fell forward, onto her knees. “Please, Cas. Help her. Help him. Help me.”

Her begging broke his heart, and he was absolutely horrified to watch her fall to her knees in front of him. It shouldn’t have even been a thought that he wouldn’t help them, and that she thought that he wouldn’t help her was even worse. He also knelt on the floor in front of her and took her face in his hands to force her to look at him.

“I will always help you,” he promised. “You never have to fear me.”

She used to always be so sure that she knew when he was lying, but now as she stared at his bright grace, she wasn’t sure if he truly meant it. “I’ve spent so long being terrified of losing you to this war, that I missed the fact that I already had,” she whispered, devastated.

“You haven’t lost me. I’m right here.”

She shook her head. “I think that you’re further gone than even you realise,” she replied. She leant in and kissed him, and he welcomed her, holding her close, terrified of letting her go.

She broke the kiss softly. “Save Lisa,” she commanded softly. “Please.”

He nodded.

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

Season 09 Episode 01

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

Dean didn’t know what to do. He hated feeling that he was out of every option. He hated feeling like there was nothing he could do but leave it up to ‘God’. Who the hell was he, anyway? He was a doctor! He was supposed to be clinical, unrelentless and smart! He wasn’t supposed to leave it up to some smuck who had decided to leave the world to burn!

God wasn’t going to answer. Cas wasn’t going to answer. The angels out in the world weren’t answering yet and he was sat in a chapel and he really wasn’t sure where to go from there. He was on his own and without ideas.

He couldn’t just sit there. He got off the bench and stormed out, each religious symbol just pissing him off more and more. His brother was dying. His best friend, the woman he loved, was dying. He didn’t know what to do anymore.

~0~0~0~

Amelia Miller was strapped to every machine that could keep her alive, but that was all they were doing. Much like Sam, the doctors were convinced that everything that made her up had long gone. They kept her breathing, they kept her vital signs nice and steady, but that’s all they did. They kept her alive.

Dean had washed the blackness from around her eyes. He’d taken the time with a soft cloth, apologising for messing up her makeup because he knew it annoyed her when her makeup was smudged. Her lids felt much too soft for there to still be any eyeballs underneath, but he kept cleaning and he didn’t dare check. He needed her to still be okay. He needed some good news. For once.

He spent his time between her and Sam, waiting for an answer off someone. He couldn’t sit still.

Amelia was on her own when she sat up in bed. Her eyes were wide but she couldn’t see anything. Her mind was foggy but she still tried to look down. In the darkness shaped appeared. She felt down her arms, feeling the wires and tubes that were attached to her. She didn’t know what they were for, she didn’t know where she was, but every part of her said that being attached to anything was a bad idea. She winced as she ripped the patches off her skin, scrambling with her fingers to find and detach herself with as little pain as possible, but also as quickly as possible. She didn’t remember much of anything, but her fight or flight instinct was telling her to fly.

She was starting to see more shapes, more shades of light in the darkness as she stumbled out of the bed she was on. She moved over until she found a wall and followed it along with her hands. She just needed to find the door. She just had to get out.

Someone grabbed her and she screamed, turning and pulling her fist back. “Let me go!” she screamed.

Whoever it was caught her wrist. “Woah, Amy, calm down,” the voice tried but she used their grip to turn them around, trapping them against the wall. They groaned at the force she used and she used the feeling of power to try and calm the panic she was feeling at her vision being gone.

“I don’t know who the fuck you are, but you’re going to tell me,” she snarled.

The person didn’t struggle. “Amy, it’s me, it’s Dean,” he told her. “Remember? Dean Winchester.”

Amelia faultered slightly. “Dean?” she asked.

“Yes! Can you- Just let me go, alright?”

Dean could very easily throw her off, she knew that, which was why she wasn’t too sure if she believed him or not. His voice sounded right, though, and she couldn’t prove it anyway. She backed off and the person immediately grabbed her arms. “Hey, you’re alright,” he reassured her. “Do you remember me?”

She nodded as she, in turn, reached out and took hold of his arms. “Yeah, I do,” she replied softly. “What-What happened? Where are we?”

“We’re in hospital. You and Sam—” He paused as his voice caught, which wasn’t reassuring. “You were both in a bad way. Lets get you back to bed, eh?”

She held onto him tightly, shaking her head. “I-I don’t know where the bed is,” she admitted. “I-I can’t see anything.”

Dean wasn’t surprised at all. Her eyes were bloodshot, with barely any white left, except for her iris which were bleached right out of most colour. He’d definitely not seen anything like it, not on anyone living anyway. He shifted so he was holding her close. “That’s okay,” he told her. “It’s probably just a side effect. Come on.”

He helped her sit down on the bed. She felt it dip as he sat next to her. “What do you remember?” he asked gently.

“Not a lot,” she admitted. “I remember being with Sam, and you turned back up to get him to stop the trial. We helped him outside and then…” She shrugged. “Then I woke up and I can’t see. What happened?”

Dean didn’t say anything for a moment. He didn’t know where to start. “When Sam stopped the trial it hit him pretty bad,” he started softly. “He’s in a room down the hall. They don’t think he’s going to make it. I’ve-I’ve called Cas, I’ve prayed to everyone but no one’s listening.”

“No,” she whispered, horrified. “No, that can’t be right. No matter how busy Cas is, he’d never leave Sam to die.”

“Metatron really had him convinced he was doing the right thing,” Dean replied. “But, whatever happened, it was what Naomi said. The angels fell.”

“Then—” She turned to Dean, trying to see him in the small amount of shadow she could see. There was nothing. “How am I alive?”

“I don’t know,” he told her. She flinched slightly as something brushed against her cheek, before she realised that it was her hand. He was turning her so she was facing him properly.

“I guess I’ve not come out of it well, though, have I?” she said softly. “Do I look bad?”

“Nah,” he replied. “Your eyes just need to heal. I’m surprised you even have any, after…”

“After they were burnt out?” she finished for him. His hand dropped from her face. “Did I leave wing marks?”

He nodded, then realised she couldn’t actually see him. “Yeah, I thought you were dead.”

She reached out slowly, hand shaking to copy his move and cup his cheek. His stubble was really starting to grow in. His cheeks were damp. She wished she could see his eyes.

“I’m sorry, Dean,” she whispered. “About Sam, about everything.”

She hugged him tightly and he held onto her like there was nothing else keeping him grounded. She sniffed, then started crying softly, then started to sob. Dean held her onto her tighter. “Let it out,” he said encouragingly. “Just let it out, Amy.”

“I’m sorry,” she sobbed. “I’m sorry.”

“You’ve nothing to be sorry for,” he promised. “We’ll fix it. We’ll find Cas, or whoever, and we’ll fix it.” He pressed a kiss on her hair. “We’ll fix it.”

~0~0~0~

Sam’s eyes flickered as he woke slowly. “Where are we?” he asked almost instantly, even before he’d woken up properly. He sat up in the passenger seat and Dean took his eyes off the road for a moment to glance over at him.

“Woah, Sam?” he asked, trying to keep his attention on his road but all he could think about was his little brother, who looked like he was waking up from a long nap rather than a next-to-death experience.

“What?” he asked.

“Okay, take – take it easy,” Dean instructed. “How you, uh – how you feeling?”

Sam shifted in his chair, trying to get the crink out of his back. “Tired,” he replied. “Tired. Like I – like I slept for a week.”

“Well, try a day,” Dean corrected, much to his surprise. “You've been out since the sky was spittin' angels.”

“What the hell happened?”

Dean looked him over for a moment, like he assessing him. “What do you remember?”

“The church, feeling like crap, the angels falling…” Sam’s eyes widened. “Amy! She was-She was dead. Oh my god…” He looked ready to start bawling, or panic, or something.

“Calm down, Sam,” she said from the back seat. “I’m fine.”

He spun in his chair. “Woah!” he exclaimed at the sight of her. She was still bruised up, her eyes looked like she’d been poisoned.

“I guess I don’t look alright, Dean,” she said pointedly. She was staring roughly at the back of his head, then turned to where Sam was. “How are you feeling, Sam?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” he dismissed. “What happened? You were on the floor. There were scorch marks. You had no eyes.”

“It was something to do with Metatron’s spell,” she explained. “I guess the angels falling must have really done a number on me.”

“But your eyes. You look like you’ve gone seven rounds with Andre the Giant.”

She shot him a little sardonic smile. “For decorative use only, I’m afraid,” she replied. “They’re all but useless.”

“You’re blind?”

She nodded. “Pretty much. Making me all but useless as well.”

“Hey!” Dean barked. “I told you about that. We’re going to fix it. The fact that they grew back at all says you’re probably going to get your eyesight back eventually.”

Sam turned back around in his chair, falling heavily against it. They’d watched her scream, and the light burst from her like an angel who’d been killed with a blade. She’d fallen to the floor with burnt out eyes and burnt out wings. She’d been dead. Seeing her lifeless body was the last thing he remembered before he’d woken up.

“I’m glad you’re alive,” he said sincerely.

“You too,” Amy replied softly. Sam was. He was grateful and releaved that they were all okay.

He frowned, looking at Dean. “You've been driving around with me passed out in the passenger's seat for a day?” he asked, confused.

“Oh, I mean, I stopped, you know, let a few Japanese tourists take some pictures. Nobody got too handsy.” Sam rolled his eyes. “I knew you'd pull through,” Dean told him. “I meant what I said at the church. You're capable of anything, Sam, and hell if you didn't prove me right.”

Sam cleared his throat. “Good. 'Cause we got work to do.”

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Season 10 Episode 14

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Sam shut the barn door closed behind him. Dean dipped back into the shadows. This was all happening so fast. He’d expected more time, he’d wanted more time. It was one thing to be fine with the idea of dying, it was quite another to be facing it square in the face of a man who he’d seen way too much of himself in.

He turned to Amy, who looked ready to fight, and he knew that her mind was racing over every single way she could help him. Always by his side, forever faithful. Everyone else – his parents, Cas, even Sam – came and went. She was always by his side. It kept him strong, and focused. As long as he had one person to look out for, he was okay. As long as he had one person who cared about him, he was okay.

He was going to miss caring about that.

He grabbed her hands which caused her to look at him in mild surprise. “I love you,” he told her with every last bit of conviction he had. If he was going down swinging, he didn’t want anything left unsaid. He wanted her to know that, while he was still himself, she had taken over his heart.

“Dean,” she breathed, eyes wide. “I—”

He cut in before she could say it. He knew she was going to, but he wasn’t sure he could handle hearing it. “And I’m sorry,” he continued, his voice gruff. “I’m sorry that it won’t mean anything soon, but right now it does and I do.”

“You don’t know that,” she insisted. “I know you’ll be okay, Dean. Even if you don’t.” She tugged on his hand, bringing him closer. He didn’t fight her. “You’ve always been so fucking pessimistic.” She leant up and kissed him. It was frantic, and rather hot, and it didn’t last long enough. The barn door opened behind him and Crowley stepped out first, followed by Sam.

/// Episode stuff.

“Plus, I need you three out here, to take out whatever comes out of there,” he said. “And I’m serious I mean, whatever comes out there.” He looked between the four before his eyes fell on Amy. “But not her,” he said. “You three. Not her.”

“Of course,” Cas replied and Amy nodded slowly. She was a coward for it, she knew, but she didn’t want to take Dean out. She didn’t think she could. Whatever came out there would have his face, would be her friend, no matter how messed up.

She didn’t realise how defeated she’d felt until Crowley handed the Blade to Dean, and he looked at it like he was finally complete again. Not happily, not hungrily, just whole again. Her hand shot out and she grab Cas’s tightly, squeezing it as she struggled to hold herself together. He looked at her, stunned slightly, but didn’t let go. He let her take her comfort, he would always let her.

“Dean?” Sam asked, concerned. Dean slowly looked to his brother before giving him the reassuring smile of an older brother who was trying to downplay how scared he was so his little brother would be okay.

“I’m good,” he promised before turning and walking away. He stopped just before the stairs that led up to Cain, free hand resting on the banister. “Not her,” he insisted again.

Amy swallowed, the lump in her throat hard. “I’m- I’m going to go outside,” she told him, trying to put some force behind her voice. “I’m not going to be here for any of it. I promise.”

He nodded, satisfied, then headed upstairs. The moment he disappeared through the doors she turned to Cas. “Help,” she whispered and he quickly nodded, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

“I’m going to take her to the car,” he told Sam, who he was sure was barely listening. He nodded though and sent Amy a soft smile.

“Good. That’s a good idea,” he encouraged. “We won’t be long.”

Cas led her outside, to the Impala, which sat waiting for her owner to return, even though it was just a car. He was going to put her in the passenger seat, but she opened the back door before he could even be a gentleman and hold it for her. She sat down on the padded seat, door wide open. She stared straight ahead and Cas stood just outside, awkward but on guard.

“Go inside, Cas,” she told him. His brows furrowed confused.

“No, you need—”

“I need you inside, Cas. I need you,” her voice broke, “I need you to be there for Dean. I will be fine.”

He knew she was right, and that if Dean came out as badly as he had seemed to think he would, then he was needed more inside than standing watch over her. He just knew there would never be a time he would rather be doing anything but keeping her safe. “I wish you wouldn’t lie to me,” he said gently.

She looked up at him, and a genuine smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “It’s not a lie. It’s a hopeful statement. Hope is never a lie, Cas. Go inside.”

He nodded and, after giving her shoulder another squeeze, shut the door and left her alone. She sat facing straight ahead, and then she cried.

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

Season 11 Episode 04 Ending

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Amelia could have laughed at the sight of the Pizza spot that the door opened up next to. She’d been there so many times that she didn’t even have to be able to read the neon sign. The street was familiar, the sound of the road was familiar. She actually in Lebanon. The stupid angels hadn’t taken her far at all.

She stumbled down the street, trying her best to not walk too heavily on her ankle whilst, at the same time, moving as quickly as she could. She didn’t know how long she had before the angels came back but she wanted to be as far away from the building as possible. And, preferably, back in the Bunker.

She rushed past the first car she came across because she knew that, with its rather new computer system, it would take a bit longer to hotwire. The second one, though, was a bit of a fixer-upper and barely took her any time at all. And, considering that she could see two of almost everything, she had been sure that she would have electrocuted herself before she’d have gotten the car started.

She swerved quite a lot. The pain wasn’t debilitating as it was tiring. Everything ached so much, her wrists stung so much, that it was hard to actually be in pain. Every time she blinked she felt herself drift off further inside her head. It took everything she had to keep herself awake long enough to park outside the Bunker. She fought with the door, mainly because the door handle kept moving around and refused to stay in one place.

But soon enough, she opened the door, and stepped inside. She smiled even though the cuts on her face stretched painfully. She was safe. She was home.

Down below, Dean, Sam and Cas all rushed into the meeting room from the study. The two humans had their guns drawn, while Cas held his angel blade tightly.

“Who’s there?” Dean barked angrily. “How did you…”

Amelia stumbled forward, clinging onto the railings tightly. The cut by her lip was starting to bleed and she was rapidly loosing the fight against being unconscious. Her knuckles turned white with the strain of standing.

“Amy?” Cas asked, sounding as perplexed as normal. She turned, heading towards the stairs. She made it down three before she lost, her eyes rolling into her skull before she tumbled down to the bottom.

“Amy!” Dean cried out, rushing over to her side. He dropped next to her to feel her pulse. “She’s alive,” he told them both. “Cas…”

Cast didn’t need telling twice. He reached down and pressed his fingers against her temples. “She’s just unconscious. Minor concussion from the fall.” With a flash of light he healed her. “She’ll wake up soon.”

“What the hell happened to her?” Sam asked, looking down at his childhood friend.

“Don’t know,” Dean said gruffly. “But when I find out they are going to pay.” He moved to scoop her up, but Castiel took hold of her and lifted her with ease before he could.

“I’ll take her to her room,” he stated. “Then I will scout the area. She may have been followed.”

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

Season 11 Episode 14 Ending

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

Amelia felt sick. As she fell to the ground, her stomach churned and her chest ached. Sam was panting and Dean looked horrified, and she didn’t blame them, but neither of them knew. Neither of them knew what she’d done. What her and Cas had done. What her and…

She gagged, the bile rising and she shot off the floor. Dean and Sam watched her dash out and they quickly followed, only to hear her throwing up into the sink. They paused outside because neither of them wanted to deal with vomit, but then she screamed.

Dean immediately pulled out his gun, just in case Cas-Lucifier-whatever had turned up but she was on floor, hair clenched between her fingers as she started sobbing hard. “Woah, woah,” Dean said, crouching down next to her. “Hey. He’ll be alright. Right?” He looked up at Sam for backup, who also knew that her distress was coming from Cas’s new roommate. “Right?”

Sam quickly nodded. “Of course. It’s Cas, isn’t it? He’s survived-Well, he’s survived a lot. He’ll be fine.”

She shook her head. “I-I can’t…” she sobbed. “You don’t understand. I-I feel so—” She rubbed her arms and Dean frowned. She wasn’t comforting herself.

“Dirty,” he finished for her, much to Sam’s surprise. She nodded, which surprised him even more.

“You don’t—I—” She looked up at Dean. “I’ve been doing worse than I let on,” she told him, almost ashamed. “Since me and you- Well, since we stopped being a me and you, you know?” She swallowed hard. “Then, after the whole ‘angel’ debacle, I got worse. I just—” She met his gaze. “Everything sucks. Everything fucking sucks, Dean, and I—” She started crying again and he rubbed her arm. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to…”

“I know,” Dean replied. “It’s okay. What happened?”

She swallowed. “I felt lonely, and sad and god knows that I needed to feel sexy…”

“You slept with Cas,” Sam finished and she nodded, again looking so ashamed of herself. It hurt Dean, he could feel it, but he didn’t say a word. He had given up the right to anything from her. They were friends now, nothing more.

“A few times,” she admitted. “And it was—” She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. Because all that matters is that I didn’t sleep with him until like, two weeks ago.” She was shaking. Every part of her felt like unclean. “I didn’t sleep with him until after we spoke to Lucifier.”

Dean and Sam shared a look. “Until he was Lucifer,” Sam said.

“I-I didn’t know it was him,” she sobbed. “I should have known. And… And I had no idea. And Cas has no idea. I-I did that to Cas!”

Dean pulled her close. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

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

Season 12 Episode 01

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“It’s worth a shot.”

The bunker door opened and Dean shot up. Mary immediately pulled out her gun, although it took her a moment to tear her eyes off the tiny thing Dean had been using that, apparently, was a computer.

A woman stumbled in, hand on her head. “Cas!” she called. “Sam?!”

Dean and Cas shared a look. “Amy,” they both said. She walked down the stairs, wincing at the light. She’d been hit on the back of the head and left for dead in the forest. She wasn’t sure who by, or why, but she knew it wasn’t good.

“Cas?!”

“I’m here,” he started, motioning for Dean to stay put. He stepped out into the briefing room. “Are you alright?”

“Some bastard attacked me,” she grumbled. “I don’t know where they were…” She trailed off, spotting the blood on the floor. “What happened here?”

“There was a woman. She blasted me away and took Sam,” he explained. “And, Amy…”

“Amy?”

She had been walking over to Cas so he could heal the egg on the back of her head, but she froze at Dean’s voice. She leant to the side slightly and saw him standing in the archway, a soft smile on his face.

“Dean?” she asked softly. That wasn’t right, it couldn’t be…

“Hey,” he replied with a little wave. She pushed past Cas, who understood her happiness all too well. She rushed over to Dean, coming to a stop at the bottom of the small steps down, staring up at him with wide eyes.

“Is it…” she started, reaching out to place a hand on his chest. He nodded.

“It’s a long story,” he stated. He was going to quickly explain what was happening but she pushed him back just enough to be able to pull him down into a kiss. Her arms went around his neck and he pulled her closer with his hands on her waist. He hadn’t known how much he needed to feel her lips on his, but he couldn’t resist deepening in, despite Sam being in danger and his mom stood in the shadows. She tasted like life, and booze, and everything he had known he was going to miss when he’d died.

She was the one to close the kiss and he pressed his forehead against hers. Both of them kept their eyes closed as they lightly panted. “Dean?” she whispered.

“Yeah?” he asked.

“Is-Is that your mom hiding over there?”

“Yeah,” he replied. “The Darkness brought her back.”

“Oh, that’s...” She pulled back slightly. “That’s actually quite amazing.”

He smiled. “It is, isn’t it?” he agreed. He kissed her again, although not the passionate one he’d wanted when he’d come back to the Bunker, then turned to look at his mom, keeping an arm around her waist so she didn’t go too far away. “Mom, this is Amelia. Amy, Mary Winchester.”

Amelia gave her a small wave. “Hi,” she said lamely. “I mean… I don’t know what I mean, actually. I’ve heard so much about you it’s strange to see you here.”

Mary looked between the two. Between her eldest son, who was four years old not long ago, and the woman who he now had his arm around. The woman who, in her eyes, had practically chucked herself at her son.

She looked up at Dean. “Sam?” she reminded.

Amelia frowned at the obvious dismissal, but also looked up at Dean. “Do we know who took him?”

He shook his head, letting her go. “We have a car, though,” he replied. “Let’s go.”

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

Season 12 Episode 02

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There was a knock on her door but Amelia didn’t even look over her shoulder. She just continued to fold up her clothes, neatly putting them back into her drawers, her mind focused purely on the organisation of her room and not on anything else.

There was another knock, but she didn’t say a word. She chucked the next item of t-shirt over her shoulder onto the floor, missing her discard pile by miles.

“Woah, if that’s the reaction every time I come in the room, I’m going to have to come see you more often,” Dean said as he stepped in, closing the door behind him. She closed the drawer she was working on. The last she had seen of him he’d been in the kitchen, starting his way through a six-pack and she’d left him to it.

“You’re more than welcome to the discard pile,” she replied. “Although I’m not sure if you’d fit in any of them with the podge you’ve put on recently.”

“Hey,” he replied, offended. “I’m as fit as I’ve ever been!”

They both smiled at each other but the silence fell over them again. Amelia turned back to the drawers, starting on the next one. “How’s- How’s your mom doing?” she asked as casually as she could.

“Tired, I think,” Dean offered. “She’s had a lot to deal with.” He watched her keep her head down, pulling out items from her dresser. She wouldn’t even look at him.

“Well, we all have,” she replied. “Jumping 30-odd years into the future must be hard, but she’ll settle eventually. She gone to bed?”

“Yeah.” He walked over, standing beside her. She still didn’t look at him, chucking another piece onto the discard pile.

“Don’t blame her. It’s late,” she said airily. “I thought you’d all be asleep by now.”

“So you thought now would be a good time for a spring clean?” he questioned. She shrugged.

“No time like the present. I’ve got so much to get rid of and I was delaying doing it because it’s a pain the ass, but it needs to be done and...”

“Alright, alright,” he interrupted. “What’s wrong?”

She paused. “What?” she asked, sounding confused. He knew better and just stared at her until she glanced up at him. He could see the tears shining in her eyes and he grabbed the clothing from her hands, chucking it back into the drawer.

“What’s wrong?” he asked again. She swallowed hard.

“You-You were supposed to die,” she started. “And-And then you didn’t, and then your mom is back from the dead after over 30 years, and then Sam’s gone and there’s this whole new British Men of Letters bullshit and I can’t even imagine what that’s like. And then I-I had to watch you go, and then you weren’t dead and-and the first thing, the first thing, I do is kiss you!” She chucked her arm out to the side. “That’s not an okay thing to do, but I-I do it anyway and your mom and Cas are right there and you’re just back from the dead and who does that? Who does that, Dean?!”

If her rambling wasn’t an indication of her panic, the way she was getting louder and louder certainly was. Even after all this time he still felt out of his depth when she became incredibly upset. He held his hands out in front of him. “Woah, woah, woah,” he said. She stood still, despite having been moving to pace around, and stared at him, looking almost manic. “If-If you’re worried about me not wanting it, let me tell you,” his lips pulled up into a smirk, “you’ll not hear any complaints about it from me.”

She knew he was trying to cheer her up, and that his words weren’t necessarily lies, but it just felt like a stab in the chest. She didn’t reply straight away as her thoughts jumbled through her head, each digging a little deeper in her own spirialing self-disgust.

“I know Cas is in love with me,” she told Dean, much to his surprise. “I know he’s never stopped, not since we-not since Sam jumped into the cage. And I’ve never-I mean, he’s still in there. You’re both still in there. And knowing all that, knowing that when I was broken thinking I had lost you he was there for me, and I just… And you had your mom, and all I could think of was… Was…” She shrugged. “Kissing you,” she whispered softly. She met his gaze and her pain was more visible than he had seen in a long time. “I can’t keep watching everyone die,” she whimpered. “It’s too much…”

He pulled her close, wrapping her up. “I know it is,” he told her. “I know, and I’m sorry. But I’m back, and I’m not going anywhere. No one is going anywhere.” She was shaking and it broke his heart. His hold on her tightened. “And Cas understands,” he continued. “We both do. We both know what we’ve done to you. He won’t be angry, he won’t have even thought twice about it.”

“What do I do, Dean?” she asked. “I can’t keep losing you.”

He didn’t have an answer, he never did. There was always a part of him that would sacrifice himself to keep his whole family safe and happy, and that included her. He knew his normal instinct would be to took her hair behind her ear and gently encourage her to go find Castiel, who would bend the world to make her happy.

But he’d almost died, and as happy as he was that his mom was back he knew that wasn’t going to be an easy ride.

So instead of tucking her hair behind her ear, he tilted her face up to look at him. Confusion flashed through the pain and he couldn’t help but just watch her for a moment.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he promised again. “I—” He swallowed hard. “I can’t lose you again either, Amy. I came looking for you because I need you too much.”

“Really?” she asked and he knew she had a very valid reason to doubt him. He just smiled and cupped her face, threading his fingers through her hair. He tilted her head a little further and kissed her again, softly and she whimpered into it. He didn’t deepen it, he closed it gently and watched her eyes flicker back open again.

“If you’ll have me, I’m not going anywhere,” he told her. “We’ve lost too much, this whole messed up little family we have has been torn apart too many times, and if we can, for one moment, have some happiness? I say we take it with both hands. Because we deserve that. We deserve at least that.”

She nodded and her lips pulled into a small smile. One little pep talk wasn’t going to change the world, he knew, but if he could make anyone smile for a while he’d take it. He placed another kiss on her lips before untangling himself. “Go to bed, Amy,” he instructed. “We’re not done, yet.”

She chuckled lightly. “Are we ever?” she replied cynically. “Lucifer’s still out there somewhere, right?”

He pointed at her as he headed to the door. “Exactly,” he stated. “And I have a mom.” He couldn’t help the smile that spread. “Can you believe it?” he asked her. She shook her head.

“It’s the first miracle we’ve had in a long time,” she agreed. “I really am happy for you. For both of you.”

He turned, opening the door and Amelia thought of all the clothes she’d chucked on the floor and how she would have to deal with that in the morning. She picked up the bra that Dean had ripped out of her hands and thought about how she needed some new ones. She thought about the trench-coated angel that she was pretty sure she had been god-awful to and how she needed him more than she cared to admit. She thought of Sam, who had gone to bed absolutely blindsided by his experiences and his mom. And Dean, her Dean, her best friend and the person who used to make her feel safe above all else, and how she had just began to feel the same again before he’d gone to his death, and it had been torn away from her.

Her heart raced, her panic spiked and, as always, her goto way to deal with it was to push it under everything else. “Dean?”

He glanced over his shoulder. “Yeah?”

She shrugged slightly, showing her uncertainty over everything. “Spend the night.”

He knew that, in their pain, they all dealt with things in different ways. Sam would obsess, he would drink, and Amelia… Well, she had a very distinct way of drowning away her problems. He watched the smirk slowly spread on her face as his eyes glanced at the underwear she was currently holding.

He stepped back in and closed the door. Who was he to say no to that?

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

Season 14 Episode 03

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Dean was never sure how he felt about the hugs he got whenever he came back from one of his stupid ideas. After all, it was his stupid stunt that had caused all of the worry and pain in the first place, everyone should be angry, not happy to see him. However, it was also nice to know that they were happy to see him regardless.

He had expected one from Jack, but he’d been a bit wary which he also could understand. Cas, on the other hand, didn’t show any trepidation as he held him tightly for a moment. Dean managed a pat on the back, but not much else. He wanted the comfort of his family, but he wasn’t sure he deserved it yet.

“Where’s Mary?” Jack asked once the greetings were done. Dean glanced around again at all of the hunters, looking for the blonde-haired one he couldn’t see.

“She and Bobby stayed back in Duluth to clean up the, uh -- uh, the situation,” Sam explained, casting another sideways glance at his older brother. Dean tried not to shift uncomfortably, knowing that the situation he was referring to was the one he’d created.

“Yeah, well, speaking of cleanup, I, uh I need a shower,” he told them. “Just gonna, you know, tell Amy the good news. She in her room?” He motioned over his shoulder, expecting them to just direct him to her. Instead there was a shared look he didn’t like at all. “What? What’s happened?”

“Um, she’s still in the infirmary,” Cas explained. “She’s still not well enough to leave.”

Suddenly a little paniced, Dean looked between him and Sam. “What?” he asked.

“She hurt herself…”

“Whilst on a hunt,” Sam quickly cut in, which just told Dean it had nothing to do with a hunt at all. “She was-She was fighting some vamps, they managed to get the best of her. We’ve cured her, she’s-she’s just resting.”

Dean just looked at his brother. “Uh huh,” he replied. “Well, that’s a load of crap.”

Sam sighed. “Look, Dean—”

“I know I’ve been out of the loop for a few weeks,” he interjected before he could lie to him anymore. “But I would rather like to not be kept purposefully out of it. That never goes well for us, does it?”

Cas and Sam shared another look, as if debating between themselves whether or not they should tell him.

Jack, on the other hand, was completely oblivious to their silent conversation. “She hurt herself,” he told Dean, who blinked in surprise. Jack’s brows were furrowed slightly. “It’s a human thing, apparently. I don’t quite understand, but Castiel explained it like she had a really bad flu, but in her head. Her bad thoughts were stopping her brain from thinking properly, like if her nose were blocked.”

Dean’s heart stopped for a moment before he turned and all but ran out of the room. Sam opened his mouth, wondering if he should call after him, but he just sighed inside. He turned to Cas. “Could you…”

“I’m on it,” he told the younger Winchester before following Dean.

“Was I not supposed to tell him?” Jack asked. “They are family, and you said family could know.”

Sam took a moment before clapping his hand on Jack’s shoulder. “It’s fine,” he replied. “I think Dean just wasn’t expecting it, that’s all.”

~0~0~0~

Amelia really wasn’t sure that she needed to be trapped in a room anymore. She understood their concern – well, actually she didn’t, which had been part of the issue, but why couldn’t she just be trapped in her own bedroom? They complained that she slept all the time, but without anything else to do what was she supposed to do, exactly? Wallowing in her own misery was what had gotten her there in the first place.

She had just come from the small bathroom that the private room had, chucking the covers off the bed when the door opened behind her. Immediately she felt on edge and she sighed heavily. “Sam, I just went to the bathroom. I don’t need help with that,” she told him firmly.

“Amy?”

She quickly turned and saw Dean stood there, looking as shocked as she felt. He was wearing a vest and shirt combo – something she had never seen him voluntarily wear – but she barely paid attention to anything than the faint glow in his eyes. She took a step back, the side of the bed jabbing into the back of her knees. “How-How are you here?” she asked before she straightened slightly, smirking slightly. “I see that getting in really used up all of your mojo, didn’t it?”

It took a moment for Dean to realise what she was saying, and thinking. “Amy, it’s me,” he told her. “It’s really me.”

She stared for a moment, deciding whether or not she believed him. She was sure that if Michael had been in Dean still he wouldn’t have looked so rough around the edges. And it would explain the way he barely had any grace at all. “Dean?” she whispered and he nodded. She quickly rushed over, chucking her arms around him but, unlike Cas, Dean wrapped her up tightly and buried his face in her hair. He hadn’t expected to ever see her again.

“How-How are you even here?” she asked him.

“Michael left,” Dean explained. “I don’t know why, and I don’t know if I care right now.” He pulled away, looking down at her. He’d expected her to be in a bed, strapped to machines and barely alive, like some sort of movie scene. He’d not expected her to be up and about, or as grumpy as she’d sounded. “What the hell, Amy?” He grabbed her wrists, looking at them. There were no cuts, he’d been expecting cuts, but she was clean.

“Oh, Cas cleaned me right up,” she told him cynically, pulling her hands back. “Regular guardian angel, that one.”

#amelia #bits and pieces #for anyone who'd interested

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brosketti-blog · 5 years

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Mafia bts/nct fanfic

Hope you enjoy reading!

@brosketti

I sit on my bed as I hear a muffled scream from downstairs. This was normal. 19 years of screaming, gunshots, and bloodshed.

I sigh and walk out my room, down the marble staircase, and into the kitchen where I am greeted by my older brother Mark.

"Can you hurt people quieter? I'm trying to relax and I can't do that when I constantly hear screaming," I say annoyed.

He raises both his hands in a surrendering motion, "It wasn't me this time. It was Yuta, but don't worry he took him to the basement."

Mark sits at the kitchen counter with a disassembled pistol in front of him.

"What happened to it?" I ask motioning to the handgun.

He turns to it and slumps on the stool, "I'm not sure. I hit this guy with it and now it doesn't work."

I raise my eyebrows, "So you just hit someone with a pistol and it stopped working?"

"Okay may have hit a couple of people... a couple of times."

"You know guns are for shooting right?"

"Yes (y/n), I know that," Mark answers slightly annoyed. I look around his shoulders and at the dissembled gun a last time.

"The extractor's broken," is all said before walking to the fridge. Hungry I look to see no appealing food, "I'm going to the convenience store."

Mark moves his hand motioning someone to his side and then to me. He signaled for a bodyguard.

"Mark, you know I love Johnny but I don't need an escort," I say furrowing my eyebrows.

"(Y/n) please don't argue this once. You know we have a target on our backs right now. I care about you too much to lose you too," Mark answers me smiling.

I look down as I remember last months events.

"We've been compromised run!" I hear muffled through my earpiece.

"Where's Jisoo?" I yell while running.

"I'm right here. Keep running," Jisoo yells from behind me.

And then a gunshot fires. Followed by another and another. Soon it was all I heard.

"Over here," Yuta says pulling me into a dark corner out of sight.

I pant heavily as my legs feel numb from all the running. I look around the small space in a panic, "Where did Jisoo go. She was right behind me."

Yuta squeezes my hand trying to calm me down, and then the gunshots stop. All I could hear where the deep breathes of Yuta and me as we gasped air.

Footsteps ran close to us, it was Taemin. I look up with a pleading look and as if he read my mind just shakes his head.

Time seemed to slow down as his head moved from left to right. A single tear ran down my cheek.

"Okay," I answer giving and turning to Johnny, "but you can't wear that suit. It draws too much attention. Go change."

For the first time in this conversation, Johnny speaks up, "Thank god. I hate suits," and with that, he leaves the room.

I smile and pat Mark's shoulder as I walk to the front door and wait for Johnny.

~~~

"How come with my brothers you act like an actual person, but with me, you're all serious," I ask while browsing the shelves.

"Every time I'm with you it's to protect you. Just doing my job."

I scoff, "I have just as much training as you. Less of protection and more of back up."

Grabbing a bag of chips off the shelf I see the cashier eyeing us out of the corner of my eye. I walk around the store more looking for more food.

I watch as he picks up a phone and dials a number. I'm just trying to get food and this is what I have to deal with.

"Can you hear him?" I quietly ask Johnny.

He leans down to my ear, "Not a word."

"We should go," I say just as the bell above the door rings.

A young man walks in. He looked only slightly older than me. His dark brown hair matched his dark brown eyes. He seemed harmless.

Taking in his features I walk to the front of the store, Johnny close behind. The boy tripped and pushed me. I hit the ground confused. Johnny quickly helps me up.

I squint my eyes at him, "What the hell."

“Sorry,” he quickly squeaks and turns away. Johnny helps me up and I turn to the boy st the counter

Dimples showed on both sides of his face as his faked a friendly smile.

Swiftly the guy behind the register pulls out a gun and points it straight to my head. I freeze. I hear Johnny behind me with his gun pointed at the man holding us a gunpoint.

"Put it down," The guy says. Johnny continues to point it. The door jingles as 5 more men walk in.

All equipped with weapons of their own. "Johnny put it down," I say with my eyes glued to the man in front of me. We were outnumbered.

"Good," the man says, "We'll take the gun now.. and the rest of your weapons."

I am pulled to the middle of the store as the seemingly harmless brown-haired male from earlier pats me down looking for weapons.

He reaches my mid-waist and because I don't know what the phrase 'there's a time and a place means' I blurt out, "Woah, buy me dinner first."

I catch one of the older men smile for a second. "He gets it," I say with a slight nod of my head.

The boy with brown hair stopped and straightened his posture to me. He was taller than me. He also had a gaze that could kill. He gave me the 'stop talking or I'll hurt you just enough not to die' kind of look.

I know it because it's the same look I give people. I look away, from his doe-like eyes. He smirks at his victory and continues to search me.

I turn my head to Johnny. We both knew we had to comply, at least until we could find an opening to run.

Stripping us completely of all our weapons the guy that was behind the counter now stands in front of both Johnny and me.

"You guys like baseball?" Johnny asks.

"Shut up," a guy with silver hair says as he punches Johnny. While it was a seemingly off-topic question I knew exactly what he was implying.

At all times I wore a charm bracelet. One of the charms was a baseball, it was also a tracking device.

All I had to do was press the tiny button embedded in it and my fathers' men would be alerted. I fumble with my bracelet so it only looked as if I was nervously holding it.

"We just want the girl. So if you'll excuse us," another guy with black hair says. Motioning his head towards me.

The brown-haired boy walks up to me again. This time I back away.

"She doesn't like to be touched," I hear Johnny.

"I said shut up!" Johnny blocks his hit and counters sending us both into a fighting frenzy.

The quickly I punch the male in front of me as more run towards me. The guy with dimples raises his gun to me, but I quickly disarm him.

I point the gun up and fire a warning shot, just to get everyone's attention. I look towards johnny as he is apprehended by four boys pinning him to the ground.

And then I speak, "I don't know what you want from me, but I promise you will regret this." As if on cue black vans began to pile around the store.

"Taehyung, now." Is all I hear before flames erupt outside. Some of the vans lied on their sides and some completely upside down.

My eyes widen as I pray to god my brothers weren't in the vans. Caught off guard someone pulls my arms behind my back points a gun to my head. My ears began to ring from the sound.

Before I knew it was being dragged out the back door of the store. I kick and scream but to no avail, 3 boys dragged me to a van.

"Johnny!" Was all I managed to scream before I felt an intense pain on the left side of my head and then black.

#bts #mafia #fanfic #ff #fanfiction #nct

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hizzalot · 5 years

Text

#PartThree #AkaJohnBrown #NobodysCitizen by @NobodysCitizen

*I returned to the Underground two days later and Carlos had not only managed to get me the id but the gun and a few other things, not even I had thought of that I might need. As I looked through it I had to snort at his choice of name.

“John Brown. You couldn’t have come up with something a little bit more original than that?” He rolled his eyes silently saying that I knew nothing as he handed me an envelope with a bunch of papers in it. In it, there was among other things a birth certificate with the same name as my driver's license and some general information about myself. I browsed through it all as I listen to what he said.

“Don’t dis the name, John and Brown are two of the most common names in this country, no one will give a fuck about you.” I frowned looking at him.

“What is this?” he looked at me for a minute stunned and shaking his head muttering to himself.

“Dude you ain’t gonna survive five minutes on the streets. That” he said pointing at the papers in my hand “is your life. A fake id will get you only so far. What happens if someone decides to check up on you and don’t find shit? You heard about Google and the internet right.” My eyes narrowed at his condescending tone.

“I am not a complete moron you know and I could live without the sarcasm” the corner of his mouth twitched but he didn’t comment instead he just continued as if I hadn’t said anything.

“My buddy has hooked you up all the way, High School diploma, a university degree in English literature, so you better read up on all the bearded dead dudes and every nice noticeable personal history. That is the story of your life that is officially out there, so read it and remember it.” I looked at the papers in my hand and back at Carlos again a little stunned that he arranged all of that because it had never crossed my mind to ask for it. Feeling a little less annoyed with him I cracked a smile.

“Thank you” I didn’t know what else to say I stood there with the papers in my hand and nodded towards him and again saying thank you. He laughed and jabbed at my shoulder.

“No problem! You are a paying customer after all. Now, do you know how to use this?” I took the 9mm gun out of his hand and without thinking about it I made sure the safety was on and then took the clip out checked it put it back in, check the extra pullet in the extractor, checking the gun since it was clean and empty giving the extractor a careful tug back and forth. I held the gun up as if to shoot aiming and pulling the trigger and it clicked just nicely as it should.

“Dude you really need to start diggin’ in that brain of yours and finding out who you are. At least you seem to know your weapons. Military?”

“Maybe,” I said. Yes, I guess he was right. Holding the gun in my hand didn’t feel strange or weird at all on the contrary for the first time in almost three days I felt calmer, lighter almost a little free as if I stood a chance against the world and the big bad wolf that was out after me. So far I was keeping my head low I had only seen my face on the news but so far no one managed to track me to New York, and I could only imagine it was because of the fact that I left everything behind. And until now the cops seemed to have kept a low profile on what was going on since I’d only seen my name and face mentioned once. I knew it was just a matter of time until they would find me and that I had to get going, I needed to do something quick and easy about my appearance. That was why I let my facial hair grow and after three das it was a dark stubble on my chin and I had a baseball cap on. Thinking about it I realized that Carlos was right I should get on the internet and try to research myself and see what general information I could find out. It could be helpful to know just who I was and what I had done for a living at least and see what I could find out about her, Linda Lee. As I thought of her guilt rushed through me I lifted my hand and put over my chest pocket where I had our wedding picture. It was the only thing I had left from her, from us and it made my chest cringe even though I had no other memories of her, or us.

“You ok there buddy” Carlos was talking to me and I had been so caught up in my own thoughts I hadn’t noticed. He was giving me a skeptical look as if he wanted to say more but didn’t. Instead, he handed me the cell phone, a few clips, and boxes of ammo and some other things he had for me.

“The cell is untraceable so take care of it well and I programmed my number in there if you ever need anything, you call me.” I started to pack down the things he gave me in the sports bag thinking I should get me a backpack instead and made a mental note to get that the next day. As I did I wonder why Carlos was being so gracious but who was I to look a gift horse in the mouth. I zipped the bag closed and took out the rest of the cash and handed it to Carlos. He looked at it and then me.

“Naaah keep it, you’ll need it more than I do.” I frowned at his words thinking there must be a hook somewhere so this time I did ask.

“Why are you doing this what is in it for you? I really don’t want to owe you or anyone any favors.”. He barked out a laugh and slapped my shoulder.

“You owe me nothing, John Brown.” He turned to his two companions who just as last time were standing by the bar watching his back. “And I am turning in to mother fucking Theresa and they say I can’t be nice.” The two men laughed on cue at that like they didn’t dare too, I looked back and forth between the two men and Carlos and there was no doubt in my mind that Carlos was lethal and one could only wait and see why he went away and beyond to help me out. I met Carlos gaze and if you didn’t know what to look for he looked friendly enough and the boyish smile on his face could fool almost anyone, however, the coldness behind his eyes was there and there was no doubt in me whatsoever if pull came to shove, that he would shoot first and ask questions later.

My plan had been to ask Carlos if he had a laptop I could use to see what I could find on myself on the net, but something told me to get my shit together, say my thanks and get my ass out of there. It dawned on me that maybe Carlos was being a little too cooperative and friendly. Why I was a stranger to him there was no reason for him to help me out of the goodness of his heart. Something was not adding up or it was adding up and pretty fucking quickly. I grabbed my bag and held out my hand.

“Thanks again for the help and for the extra stuff” I gave him a good boy smile and as I shook his hand I saw his eyes flicker and towards the window and from the corner of my eyes I could see the reflection of the bar windows I could see armed men. My reaction was instant and backhanded Carlos so hard he stumbled back and fell back first on one of the tables. I don’t know who was more shocked him or I but I didn’t stay put to dwell on it.

As Carlos fell his jacket fell open showing his gun and I grabbed it moving backward as I fired several shots towards his men at the bar. I hit the first one right on his shoulder of his shooting hand and the second one I aimed for the knee and he fell like a wall of bricks to the floor. I still couldn’t see the men if they were thugs or cops. I ran into the kitchen area hoping for the later and that they were dumb and cocky enough to come all from the front and give me easy access through the back. I zigzagged through the kitchen gun held high. The kitchen staff only stared down the floor with hands up as if to say they had no problem with me passing or leaving; they hadn’t seen or heard anything. Carlos had them well trained. The fact that I thought that, knew that, had me wondering who the hell was I where did I come from.

I came up to the backdoor I had no way of knowing if I was walking into yet another trap or if the coast was clear but I had to move quickly and standing with my back towards the wall, my bag hung over my shoulder causing me to be out of balance but I refused to leave it behind. Hell and be damned I really needed to get that backpack yesterday would have been great. Taking a breath and heaving the door open I took a quick peek out the door and color me amazed but there was no one there.

Everything about this place and how things were going down was giving me the creeps, better get my ass out and away because the scene could change any second. Now the alley behind the bar was empty but something told me that would not be the case for long, and barely had the thought crossed my mind when Carlos came shooting through the kitchen door with his friend whose shoulder I busted. I got my ass going running in the opposite direction and away from the street. Technically that was a dumb ass thing to do because what I really wanted was a large public place where I could hide and melt in with the crowd. Doing that would be less chance for them to get me cornered and alone. That would be better but it was too risky I had no way of knowing how many gunmen there were and it made more sense that they came from that direction. Making a fast decision as I come up to the end of the alley I turn left and runs towards the fence runs a little faster to get some speed under me as I climb over and end up on the other side with little to no difficulty. I was surprised how easy that had been but I was no small man that was for sure I was at least 6’3 and not very bulky slimmer but well toned so there was not that much excess weight to throw over a wall or a fence. I continue to run as I heard Carlos and his men coming up close behind me, numerous shots flew over my head and ducking behind a large blue metal waste container. Hunched down I ran towards where I thought the gate out from the enclosed area was, hoping that I didn’t have to backtrack; there would be no time for me to do that.

Throwing a look behind me, I heard Carlos and his men one by one getting over the fence and as I reached the gates it was locked with a chain and loc.

“Fuck it!” With no time to spill I threw the bag over the fence and started climbing they were closing in so I decided to jump and got caught on a piece of the fence sticking out. The steel cut through my shirt and my skin dragging cutting a long and deep wound along my stomach and making me cry out in pain. Momentarily paralyzed by the pain I stumble and fall on my knee clutching my side but I still have no time to waste as the sound of their boots making the ground vibrate and new rounds of bullets flying around me. With my arm pressing to my side I fire off a few rounds towards the men coming around the corner with Carlos in charge and it gives me enough time when they fall flat on the ground to get my bag and start down the street in the opposite direction.

“Son of a bitch.” I pressed my arm to my side where the wound was. It hurt like my insides was falling out and it was bleeding through my fingers. I could feel the blood running down my body. I had to shake them off and get somewhere to take care of this running towards the subway knowing there would be people there on my way I bump into a guy talking on his cellphone and I think of the one Carlos gave me. Stopping and wasting it in a nearby waste bin thinking it must be just the opposite of nontraceable. As I close into the subway, I put the gun in my jacket and pull the zipper up trying to conceal the wound as much as I could. I tried to walk up straight and move as unsuspiciously but fast as possible. Using the bag to shield me and my wounded side I move fast down the stairs and onto the platform, cautiously looking around me. There were enough people on the platform for me to semi blend in but being two heads taller than most still made me stick out. I walked as far back on the platform that I could and just when I got to the very end I heard them coming down the stairs sneaking around a pillar as they just as they came into sight and a train was pulling up. I understood enough Spanish apparently to understand that Carlos was swearing under his breath demanding his men to start looking around and fast.

I watched as the train pulled in and the doors open. I waited for everyone to get off and waited for everyone to get on and then I waited some more and as the lights started to blink for the doors to close I jumped on the train and just manage to squeeze inside as the doors closed leaving Carlos on the platform pointing his gun at me and swearing on his mother's grave he would catch me and fucking kill me when he did. As the train pulled away I started to relax against the door and then sat down feeling exhausted in a matter of seconds. My heart was pounding already and now as the adrenaline was not pumping full speed so was my wound. I remember throwing down a first aid kit in the bag and start digging for it as I find it I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. In it, I find tape and gauze at least that would cover me until I could get to a pharmacy for some disinfectants and needle and thread.

What I needed was a hospital but I couldn’t afford to go there not with both the law and the underworld looking for me. I turned away from the people around me to get to the part of patching myself up as good as I could without drawing any attention like they already weren’t suspicious after all the commotion of me getting on the train. I had to work fast and did and at least there was enough gauze to keep the bleeding in place. When I was done I used the two wet wipes to clean off the worst of the blood on my hands in the hope of looking as normal. I leaned back closing my eyes just for a brief moment letting myself take a few breaths and listen to the sound coming from the train and as we pull into the station right under central park I hop off to go find an all-night pharmacy and the things I need to get myself stitched up and that before I passed out on the pavement from the blood loss. #AkaJohnBrown #NobodysCitizen

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