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gripefroot · 9 months

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Crooked Ways [7/22]

Bulma woke with a heavy tongue dryer than a desert and a distant headache the next morning. No, not morning - she blinked at the sky through the high windows and saw the view was too white to be the misty blue of morning. It was afternoon.

“No more galas,” she muttered to herself, stumbling for the bathroom. “No more champagne. No more feeling sorry for myself.”

Well, the first two might be easier to swing. She splashed her face with cold water, coming up with red cheeks and tired eyes and the front of her sleeping shirt soaked through. Bulma peeled it off, dropping it on the bathroom floor. A shower was in order, anyway.

She’d gotten mostly dressed and made-up when a knock sounded on her door. Her heart jumped at the sound, thinking Vegeta! before rushing for the door to open it, forgetting the towel wound around her damp hair.

It wasn’t Vegeta. It was Panchy.

“Oh, hi, Mom.”

Panchy carried a tray full of the best breakfast foods - toast and eggs and bacon - which made Bulma’s mouth water. She stepped aside to let her mother through.

“I was wondering when we’d see you!” she trilled. “How was the gala last night, sweetie?”

“It was fine.” Bulma ducked her head out the door, glancing left and right - but the hall was deserted. Disappointment pinched her uncertain belly, and she closed the door regretfully.

“We didn’t hear you get home last night, so it must have been a good party!” Panchy set the tray on the bedside table, pushing aside a screwdriver and Bulma’s sketch pad and pencils to make room. “See anyone we know?”

“Basically everyone,” Bulma said. She unwound the towel from her hair, not wanting to talk about her fuzzy memories of the dull gala. “Where’s Dad?”

“He’s working in his lab.” Panchy paused to rearrange a bouquet of dying flowers on the dresser. Bulma couldn’t remember where those had come from. “I’ve just been in the garden all day, the weather has been gorgeous.”

“And…Vegeta?”

“Oh, you know him.” Panchy waved a hand. “Always training. I’ll miss the occasional explosion shaking the flowerbeds when he leaves.”

When he leaves. The reminder was a slap in the face. Because he would leave, just like everyone else. Suddenly the bacon didn’t smell so good. Bulma hid her face by hanging up the towel in the bathroom, hating the stupid pain in her chest.

“He was in a surprisingly good mood this morning,” Panchy went on. Bulma returned to her bedroom, shaking out her hair.

“Dad?”

“No, Vegeta. He had quite the temper tantrum last night.”

“What?” She wouldn’t have expected it - he’d seemed his perfectly normal self during their midnight encounter.

“Oh, that was after you left.” Her mom snapped her fingers. “That was the issue. Yamcha came by around supper time to take you to the gala but you’d already gone.”

Bulma’s face went cold, as if doused by a waterfall of ice. “Yamcha? Came here?”

“Sure did, and all dolled up nice with a tuxedo and everything. Even brought a corsage.”

“But - why?” Her mind was reeling too fast to take in what she’d already heard. Yamcha had come to take her to the party. He’d remembered, all these months later. “Why didn’t he go after me?” Bulma asked, her tone turning sour.

“Because of Vegeta, of course.” Panchy’s bracelets tinkled as she made for the door. “They had a little tiff.”

“A tiff? About what?”

“No idea, sweetie. I didn’t hear the words exchanged but it wasn’t cordial. Then Vegeta hit poor Yamcha in the face and got blood all over his nice tuxedo.”

“He what?”

“Blood on his tuxedo,” she repeated, wagging a finger. “Do you need your ears cleaned, sweetie?”

“Not Yamcha - Vegeta.”

“What about him?”

“He punched Yamcha? Why?”

“Like I said, I didn’t hear what they said.” Panchy paused in the doorway, red-painted fingernails tapping on the doorframe. “He couldn’t catch up to you at the gala with a bloody nose, now could he?”

Bulma didn’t respond, and Panchy’s humming faded in the distance down the hallway a moment later. Despite the bracingly cold shoulder, her legs shook until she collapsed on the carpet, holding her aching head in her palms with a pitiful groan.

She was going to kill Vegeta.

But first - breakfast. Otherwise she’d stand even less of a chance against him.

Her temper hadn’t abated by the time she stomped down the halls and out the front door of Capsule Corp with the training pod in full view. Occasional thunks and thuds broke the otherwise peaceful afternoon.

Soon hers added to the din, because Bulma was forced to pound on the door in an effort to get Vegeta’s attention. The door was kept locked while the bots were out, to avoid accidental damage of an unsuspecting visitor. She was not unsuspecting. And she’d left her keycard that allowed her to override the lock in her room.

“Vegeta!” she screamed, her arm growing tired from the incessant pounding. “Vegeta, you - you high-horsed buffoon! You jerk-faced worm! Cretin! Abominable, tailless raccoon - ”

The door slid open, smoke billowing out in an acrid cloud to swarm around her head, cutting off her spiel with several coughs. Eyes watering, Bulma could barely make out the looming man ahead of her.

“What’s a raccoon?” Vegeta demanded. His skin shone with sweat, soot smeared over his face where his black eyes glittered.

“How - how could you?” Bulma said helplessly, throat gone hoarse. Gosh, what had he done to the robots to turn the training pod into a smoking parlor?

“How could I what, woman?”

“You - you - ”

His eyebrows lifted sardonically, waiting for her stumbling answer. Bulma stomped her foot, fists at her side and broken wrist straining in pain at the movement. “You punched Yamcha!” she yelled.

Vegeta blinked. Then his lips twisted into such a sneer that if she was any less furious she would have skedaddled. “He had it coming,” was all the excuse he gave, and reached out to punch the door closed again.

“No!” Bulma held out a hand, keeping the door open. The smoke had cleared, but it only gave her a better view of his already-ratty tank top and blackened sneakers. “Okay, fine,” she allowed. With a deep breath, still sour, she figured that agreeing with Vegeta would be more likely to reach him. “I know you’ve never liked him. You’ve never liked anyone, I suppose.”

He gave a derisive tch.

“But,” she enunciated, voice raising in pitch. “You can’t go around punching people you don’t like!”

“Of course I can, I’m - ”

“Prince of all Saiyans, blah blah blah,” Bulma interrupted. “Not Prince of Earth. You’re not the man of the house, Vegeta! This isn’t your palace and you’re not in charge!”

Vegeta’s sneer deepened.

“And I can’t believe you didn’t tell me!” That was the clincher, she realized. With the horrifying, crushing weight of hurt stamping down her heart into a flattened disc she had to blink back tears, forcing her voice to be strong as she said, “You kept it a secret from me.”

He only shrugged.

“You let me think he didn’t show up.” No point in pretending to sound strong. Her voice trembled.

Vegeta grunted, his eyes narrowed but lingering on his face as he asked gruffly, “Did you expect him to?”

“No, of course not.”

“So what’s the problem?”

Bulma inhaled a deep breath. If nothing else, at least she could say none of her hurt spilled from her eyes, all dried up. “Because I thought all my friends had forgotten about me and I was wrong. Yamcha cared enough to remember, to come for me.”

Vegeta’s gaze withered away, focusing on the grass behind her. Without it she felt about ten degrees colder and brave courage to say,

“And then with how sweet you were last night, taking me to the roof…it made me think…”

His eyes snapped back to hers, glowing with danger. “Made you think what?” he asked roughly.

She found she didn’t have any words to explain what she’d thought. If she’d thought at all, in the tipsy state she’d been in. But she must have thought something, or else she wouldn’t feel like she’d been ground into the dust.

Which had probably started when Panchy had mentioned Vegeta leaving one day…

“I understand you,” Bulma said, taking the last step up to the door where she could look Vegeta right in the eye. He didn’t back up a step, but he did balk slightly. “I really do. You act all rude or indifferent, pretending like you don’t care, but you do. You care a lot, don’t you? If you didn’t care, you wouldn’t have done anything about Yamcha showing up. You wouldn’t have gotten out of bed last night to make sure I was okay.”

“For the record,” Vegeta said, rewinding his balk and meeting her nose-to-nose. “I sent Yamcha away blubbering like a baby so I wouldn’t have to listen to your heartbroken dithering the next time he screws up. I need you in fit form to take care of this pod.”

But Bulma just smiled. Hope fluttered her disc of a heart.

“You’re rude so that nobody wants to look closer at you to see what and who you really are,” she continued. “You don’t want anyone getting close because then they’ll know how to really hurt you. And I don’t mean by punching your lights out.”

“Ha!”

“Pretend whatever you want,” Bulma said breezily, flipping her hair over her shoulder. Nothing like winning a verbal spar with Vegeta to improve her mood. “Might not hurt to take a risk with someone who you know won’t hurt you, no matter what you show them.”

“There is no one alive,” Vegeta began, his voice lowered to a fierce, dangerous pitch that sent a shiver licking over her arms and up her spine. “That could begin to comprehend me and refuse to take a shot where it counts. Anyone simple enough to refuse to hurt me is too stupid to understand. Anyone smart enough to understand would know to cut me down the first moment they could.”

“That’s so sad.” She shook her head, turning to jump down the steps to the grass. A few more steps got her cleaner air, but where there was no smoke, there was no musky Vegeta smell either. “Next time,” Bulma shouted over her shoulder as a parting shot to where he stood in the doorway, watching her go. “Tell me when one of my friends comes over.”

#vegebul #bulma x vegeta #dbz fanfiction #dragon ball

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blood-injections · 2 years

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An addition to my last post on my post-killjoy-comic headcannon where when the girl frees the city she’s reunited with the Fab Four who were stuck there. You can find that drabble(that I promise I’ll eventually saw a comic for) here.

I’m going to write a short fic/series of one shots for this idea and it’ll just be exploring the impact of it all, how each of the boys felt the moment they woke up.

It’s not crazy to think that BLI would’ve revived the killjoys after the events of the sing music video for information or leverage or literally anything, that’s not out of the realm of possibilities at all. And that’s what happened in this little universe and then they were re-educated and all this time they’ve been in the city, drugged, not in control.

And this Fic will be about that, then waking up, maybe separated having been doing different jobs, maybe together somewhere, maybe all out in the street, pulling scarecrow masks from their heads with all the others. All of a sudden they’re aware again and it would be about that. It’s been ten years. They’re so much older, they haven’t been in control in a decade. They were backseat drivers all that time, maybe aware, maybe not. Maybe the past ten years is all a haze, maybe it’s painfully crystal clear. This fic is waking up, the explosion of light, destroys being there and them either being discombobulated and confused and not quite themselves or waking up and gaining consciousness immediately and realizing holy shit she did it and immediately going to find her.

It’s the four of them seeing eachother for the first time in a decade too. Maybe they’ve worked together, but they weren’t in control, the last clear memory they all really have of being themselves and seeing eachother is dying. This will be their sudden ability to embrace eachother again, it’s the whiplash of brothers reuniting, finally being able to talk to eachother, to hold eachother. It’s the sobs of torn apart lovers that suddenly, finally get to feel that love for eachother again. It’s a teary kiss for the first time in years and promises to never let go of eachother.

And they’re just dealing with the shock of it all but they fucking pull it together to go find their damn kid in the crowd outside because she just saved them and they find her and she’s all grown up.

And it’s the aftermath and then having to accept that that kid they helped has changed a lot but that she older now and that they’re older now and of course they’re oh so proud of her but it’s just that lost time, the knowledge of everything that they’ve missed out on. And it’s then going back to the zones with her but their home has changed too, it’s a completely different desert. In 2019 the zones and the killjoys were still figuring themselves out, it had only been a few years since the helium wars and everything. But now there’s a full fledged society out there and they’ve gotta learn it all and deal with being living legends while grieving because to them it’s been a blink of an eye since they’ve seen Cherri Cola and Doctor D and Show Pony but they’re all gone now, the Fab Four are all that’s left of those original killjoys. Sure, maybe Hot Chimp and Tommy Chow Mein are still kicking it, but you know what I mean.

And this Fic will just be acceptance, basically. It’ll be filled with so many tears but it’s so joyful, it’s family finding eachother again. They’ve accomplished their goal. The city is free, the director is dead, they don’t have to fight for their lives anymore.

It’s acceptance and learning and catching up and fucking partying, cause destroya knows the zones are a party now in a way they never used to be. Everyone in the zones and the city are celebrating their freedom and their win.

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voluptuarian · 5 days

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now I'm suddenly being reminded of the incredibly intense and detailed dream I had once after being basically force fed nothing but Fallout New Vegas for days while my brother was playing it, and had just watched A Monster In Paris, where the setting was this vaguely WWI-Europe feeling world populated by Greek-style city states, several of which were currently at war with each other, and my pov was this young soldier who'd been found with a serious head injury in the wake of an explosion and nursed by some locals, and came to with missing or fragmentary memories of the last several months which included:

not remembering what he was doing away from his unit when he got exploded (and which looked suspiciously like an attempted desertion)

not remembering most of his time in combat period

AND not remembering his own recent courtship/marriage, which he discovers through documents/photos in his pockets and a wedding ring

then he finds out his side is losing and his hometown has been occupied by the enemy and has to sneak back into to try and find his wife. She's not staying at his house (which might not even be there anymore, I can't remember, I just remember the feeling she was forced to move) and he has to investigate to find her at her job, playing piano at a club. He finds her finally in private and she gets the news that her husband is alive at the exact moment she discovers he's had a damaging and scarring head injury and he doesn't even really remember her at all, and then he wants to know if she has any idea what he was doing when he got blown up and of course she doesn't--

And that's where I woke up. This dream has haunted me for years. I want answers. I have none. I never even got enough ideas about it to try and turn into a story.

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sjjnyc · 8 months

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A Bird' Eye View: Water Futures in the Colorado River Basin

Have you read my creative essay?! Click the link above and check out all the other amazing contributions!

Photo Description: Top to Bottom - A screenshot of the title of my essay on the Southwest Contemporary website, a screenshot of a paragraph in the essay about memory, the cover of Vol 7 and a marketing graphic for the "Finding Water in the West" panel I participated in.

A follow-up reflection on Beauty

I think there is a lot of beauty in this region of the country. I've barely touched the surface of anything during my time here, but from what I have noticed living in Arizona and visiting New Mexico and southwest Colorado, there is a lot of beauty. All kinds of beauty. I remember my initial reaction toward going out West, "go out there! Where there's no water?! It's so hot there and blah blah blah". Imagine all the things you miss because you don't recognize the beauty of a place . . . I'm searching for other words but I can't put my finger on them. So I settle on beauty and maybe magic. I'm trying to stop myself from saying otherworldly, but there are otherworldly places in this region. Thank the rocks! Maybe another way to think about it is the energies of a place. Energy that makes you go WHOA. Also, self esteem is coming to mind. All this stuff going on with the land and water here, and all the nonsense that doesn't get news coverage, or is even known. I like thinking about self-esteem/community-esteem and place. I think the moment I started to recognize the beauty of the desert was when I went to this herbalist's Instagram page and saw all the herbal goodies she is making from desert plants like Saguaro Cactus and Prickly Pear. I saw the desert's beauty through her and her connection to plants and herbalism. I've seen more beauty through other people too. All kinds of beauty.

A time travel gadget making workshop in the Year 2023

Photo Description: The first and third images are graphics promoting my workshop "It's About Time" downloaded from Southwest Contemporary's Instagram account. The second image is of a time travel gadget I made for my essay in Vol 7.

RECAP: It's About Time: A Water Futures + Time Travel Workshop with Simone Johnson Thursday, June 15, 6-7:15 pm MDT free | via Zoom

Please join us! As part of our continued exploration of creative practices engaging with water issues across the West and Southwest, Southwest Contemporary presents It's About Time, a free virtual workshop by Simone Johnson, an interdisciplinary artist, researcher, and cultural worker and author of "A Bird’s Eye View: Water Futures in the Colorado River Basin" in Southwest Contemporary Vol. 7—Finding Water in the West. In this workshop, you will:

Learn more about Simone's approach to her water and time travel research focused on the Colorado River Basin.

Learn how she made a time travel gadget for her essay featured in Southwest Contemporary Vol. 7.

Make your own time travel gadget as it relates to water and ecologies where you live.

Materials needed: What can you use that is lying around where you live? While searching for materials, play with your imagination to see how they can be used. Some ideas include paper, cardboard, fabric, an old tissue box, a fork, a stick from outside, glue, tape, paperclips, string, etc.

My time travel gadget from the workshop!

"Thanks to everyone who joined the Water Futures + Time Travel workshop yesterday with @swcontemporary 😭🥰

🌵This is the time travel gadget I made; a mason jar top filled with dried Rose petals tied to my hand with string. I told everyone in the workshop you have to have a certain kind of Rose for the gadget to function properly, and it has to be tied to your hand a certain way to work as well.

🌵This morning I woke up, and wondered if there are any desert rose species, and decided this gadget only works with particular desert plants. And it's activated only by Sun and Moonlight shining from/under southwestern/western skies in the Colorado River Basin.

🌵It transports me to waterways and surrounding lands in the basin. Works really great since I don't drive. It's a device of somekind that is specifically made for this region. One day I want to visit the famous Colorado River. As I begin to transport it starts to glow more blue. I added some filters to the image to help convey the time travel gadget, which I made spontaneously in 15 minutes!

💫FYI, portals to NYC are currently not opening up for me, but when they do . . .haha.

🌵The end!

Thanks again for being interested in my water art practice" ☺

IG Post on June 16, 2023

Making time travel gadgets at home

One of my favorite parts about the workshop design is that participants make their time travel gadgets at home. If you are really interested in this idea, and you haven't set up your gadget making studio-lab yet, what are you waiting for?! I would love to see what you create :) If you are on IG, please DM @sjj.nyc!

With a variety of prompts (that I still need to develop more) to help people generate ideas, characters and stories, time travelers are also encouraged to search for materials inside and outside where they live. The golden question is: what will you find?

Thanks so much to Natalie and Lauren from Southwest Contemporary for the opportunity to share, and to everyone who joined!

No.4 Judy Jetson: A Flower Essence for Time Travel

Photo description: A photo of two different sides of the flower essence "Nov 4. Judy Jetson".

Right before I facilitated "It's About Time" I was gifted a flower essence called "Nov 4. Judy Jetson" by multidisciplinary artist and medicine maker Iruka Maria Toro. She shared with me that it is connected to time travel, and I feel like it is so special to receive this medicine during a time in my life where I am exploring water and time travel. Thanks so much Iruka! <333

"An energetic essence of flowers and stones that activates multiple timelines. It spins the wheel of fortune and dissolves boundaries with a wink and a smile.

This potion is a time machine. Return to any point on the clock & remember: all lifetimes are now.

It’s possible to rewind or fast forward. It’s possible to get multidimensional about it.

Ancestor work is supported here. Evolutionary soul work is supported here.

Kiss the spiral of non-linear time".

I have never taken a flower essence like this before, and since I have started working with it, I have noticed a couple of things so far. What I will share for now is that between last Fall 2022 and early August 2023 I have had several different timespirals coursing through my being, all while struggling personally at home, with easy access to public transportation and getting A TON of NOs for artistic opportunities and job applications. Every direction I tried to go in last year and this year (until the recent Full Moon in Aquarius on August 1, 2023), I was blocked. My theory behind all the ruthless limitations, challenges, setbacks and roadblocks is that my Saturn Return was in full effect.

The last year and a half have been an emotional rollercoaster to say the least, and at times I became very weak and depressed, not taking care of myself which opened the door to spiritual parasites I had to extract from myself in a dream. No lie. I'm open to sharing this because I'm alive, and would like to share the challenging moments in my life.

When I started taking this flower essence there must have been 3-4 different life directions I could possibly go in, and the whole time I was feeling into whether I truly wanted to go in these directions, and if they were aligned. In the end, I think a mixture of things including working with "Nov 4. Judy Jetson" collapsed and dissolved timelines my spirit knew wasn't right for me. And the timecircle that unexpectedly emerged . . . well . . .

PHOTO: CDWHEATLEY/GETTY IMAGES

When I was reading about the medicine on Iruka's apothecary, it said it could also be used for ancestor work, and that made me pause- ancestor work? I shook my head and agreed with myself that I wanted to focus on water and time travel in the Colorado River Basin. A couple of hours later I took four drops of the essence and by the end of the night I was thinking about my paternal line, researching my Ghanaian heritage and how the island of St. John could be some sort of official entry way into ancestral research I've been hesitant, cautious and grumbly about.

I decided recently that I'm going to use the essence for dreamwork. I remember saying to myself when my paternal lineage came up that I'm not ready to connect with my paternal line through my dreams. Even though, maybe, I already have. I didn't have dreams with my paternal line that night, but the following morning I woke up researching the Volta River, realizing the river could be another way to "enter" Ghana. An hour or so later, I learned about the work of Yvette Tetteh and Agbetsi Living Water. Ha! So much for sticking to water and time travel in the Colorado River Basin.

I hadn't been thinking about my Ghanaian heritage for awhile until I took the flower essence, and I believe it created an opening inside of me that I honestly couldn't imagine happening. Because, at this time in my life, I don't think I'll ever feel close to Ghana, but the essence helped make a bridge between my interest in water and the Volta River, so I guess I'll see what happens. Coming across Agbetsi Living Waters strengthened the opening and seeded a possible timeline where maybe I might find myself in my absent father's homeland.

Photo description: A map of the Volta River drainage basin and its main three tributaries, the White Volta, Red Volta, and Black Volta rivers

Today is Saturday, September 16, 2023 and I just did a timeline jump

I think it's one thing to think about time travel, and another thing to experience it in my body. I bought many herbal medicines with me for my destination, but I definitely need them during the process of connecting to the new timeline. I really like having herbs I can take immediately, especially if my nervous system gets inflamed from being in an airplane for hours or being around too many people for long periods of time. I like having a Skullcap tincture, but prefer an infusion. Herbal oils like St. Johns Wort are really helpful for calming my nervous system. Sometimes when I get off planes, trains and busses, my body aches so much and my back hurts, but it's really my nervous system that is inflamed.

I like taking garlic, honey and oregeno oil capsules to stop me from getting sick when I go to public places. I've heard Osha Root and Spilanthes are great to take before getting on a flight because they stimulate your immune system to protect yourself when you're in an enclosed tube with many people. Infusions really go a long way though, which is why it sucks when I find myself timeline jumping, or doing anything really, and I don't have access to water, a teapot and stove. I think taking pauses in the midst of change can be really medicinal too, and pouring libations before the journey begins. I am interested in thinking more about how to stay grounded while time traveling, especially in an embodied way. I really could use a massage right now, let's add that to our time travel care. I gotta return to this. It's a bit rough on the edges, but I have to go!

#Youtube

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sweater-daddiesdumbdork · 3 years

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Remember?

Summary- 1.9k Frank Adler x You. Frank wakes you up at the ungodly hour of 3:30 am and will not even tell you why. Written for @stargazingfangirl18 5k challenge

Warnings- like... barely there mention hint of smut? But just barely? I cant even count it as a warning to be honest.

A/N- so yes this is written for a soft!dark challenge, but dark writing just isn't happening. I went with just soft and with the prompt of lazy make out session.I really wanted to make sure I was giving something to Siri’s challenge because she works so hard on providing us wonderful fics to enjoy, is incredibly supportive and honestly she deserves it. Much love always babes and thank you for all you do.

A/N 2- Can be read as a one shot. It is in the same verse as Oppressive. Also trying out a new site to make moodboards. I kinda like it? what do you all think? And I know the Fort Myers pier is made from concrete, not wood, but I wanted wood. So I went with wood. I always appreciate your thoughts on a fic. Alright, Much Love, Happy Reading! 🌊

“Baby wake up.” You heard a husky whisper in your ear as well as a rough scrape against your shoulder from Franks cheek as he pressed in close to your back, the soft hairs of his chest pressed into your sleepy warm skin and you muttered a no into your pillow as you hid your face into the cotton covers.

He must be out of his ever loving mind to think you were going to wake up at… a quick peek at the old 80’s looking radio clock Frank loved sitting on his night stand. The red numbers were unfocused at first, but blurry sharpened to three thirty am. Yes, your man was crazy to think you were up for anything at all, and the way he was pressed into your ass cheeks, you suspected he woke up early for sex.

That was going to be a hell no. “Frank go back to sleep. I will fuck you later.” You promised as you shifted back into your warm safe hollow. He chuckled gruffly and his hands slid on your hips to twist you to fast him, causing you to sigh and blink up at him. In the dark of the room, his eyes were a dull blue shining down at you amused. You though were no in that same mood as you blinked up at him, pushing a hand against his chest. “Come on Frank, I'm not in the mood. I was sleeping so good.”

“You would think I would wake you up just for sex.” Frank scoffed.

“It wouldn't be the first time.”

“Probably won't be the last either, but that's not what this is about. Come on Sweetheart, get up. I have a surprise.” He tapped your ass and pulled away as you were groaning, knowing sleep simply wasn't going to happen.

“Adler, I swear to all that is holy, this better be good.” You grumbled as you sat up and tried to wake up. Frank came back out with some clothing for you, a pair of capris, tee shirt and undergarments. You looked at the casual clothing and arched your brows. “Where are you dragging me?”

“Its a surprise, trust me, those are appropriate.” He started as he dressed in some old faded blue jeans and grey tee. Wherever he was taking you wasn't going to require dressing up too much, so you just pulled your hair back into a tie, and didn't bother with makeup. He kept glancing at his watch, and by three fifty he had you out the door and to his pickup truck. He tossed a bag in the back and when you went to question it, he shook his head firmly in a no while ushering you into the passenger side. “Part of it, just trust me.”

“I trust you to have something up your sleeve Adler, considering you know I love my sleep in on Saturday Morning.” You grumbled under your breath. Typically you and Frank slept late Saturdays. Mary would go to Roberta’s Friday night for her weekly sleepover that both woman and child insisted on, you and Frank would go to the local bar for a night of cold drinks, games of pool and the occasional dancing when you could get Frank drunk enough to go on the small dance floor. Simple, but you always had a good time. Saturday was recovery day.

So why was he dragging you out of bed on recovery day?

“So a hint?” You decide to pester a bit, sliding closer on the bench seat till you were against his side, his arm circling around your shoulder to tuck you in closer and press a kiss to your temple. You could feel his lips upturned to a smirk against the side of your head.

“You want a hint… It has to be done early in the morning.”

You rolled your eyes at him with a huff, dropping your hand to dance your fingers against a jean clad thigh, making his eyes dart down to your hand. “I want better then that.”

“You are not gonna get it Baby, but you can try your best.”

He really was being serious this time, because he caught your hand from wandering up to far and brought it to his mouth, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles.

“Alright Adler, keep your secrets then.” You let your head rest on his shoulder and eyes close. Frank was stubborn, always had been. You knew when you just had to let it go. You drifted in and out as he sped along the interstate. Soon he was turning off, but you weren't quick enough to catch what the exit was, so still had no idea.

“Are we there?”

“Close, you don't know where we are?” He asked with a slight laugh in his voice. You shrug a bit as you two are driving down the main drag of the area, passing all night gas stations, fast food chain restaurants, outlet stores and parking lots.

“No clue, every place in Florida has this Frank.”

He hummed a bit, slowing to an intersection and flicking on his blinker. “True, but you will soon see.” He winked as he made the turn, pulling away from the city-like area and moving towards the beach strip. Where million dollar homes, hotels, and beach side tourist traps laid quiet in the barely morning hours. It was starting to lighten though, you could see the black blue of the night sky make way for lighter purples and pinks.

So you remained patient, waiting for wherever Frank was taking you. The terrain started to get sandier, the crack of the window took on a breezy salty scent and you could taste the hint of surf and sand in the air. Your lips turned upwards, just that scent alone reminded you of a couple years ago, and it all clicked right where you were.

Your first overnight away from home with Frank was to Fort Myers, a small rundown motel on the beach. The room was iffy, the Ac barely worked, neither of you dared to use the pool. At the time it was all you two could afford. And it was all perfect.

Because that morning, before sunrise, you two escaped to the beach, arm in arm and sat in the dunes to watch the sunrise over the crashing ocean, and all was perfect in the world with each other.

Frank glanced over to see the knowing look on your face, and his own softened in a smile, his hand coming to grasp the inside of your thigh gently, squeezing. “Now you know?” He pulled into an almost deserted parking lot. At the other end were a group of people, unstrapping their boards to get ready to go into the surf.

“Of course Frankie.” You said with a touch of sentiment in your tone as you leaned over to peck his lips and nip at him playfully. “How can I forget?” You pull away suddenly and jump out of the car, yanking off your shoes to ditch in the truck. Frank followed, doing the same with his own boots.

You had already taken off into the sand, making your way towards the surf to dig your feet into the wet sand happily. Now it was getting lighter, those dark purples and pinks made way for the reds and oranges as the barest hint of the sun kissed the horizon.

Frank came up behind, having managed to yank his jeans up partially around his calves and pressed you two to walk out a bit further into the surf, the salt water spritzing you both in a fine cooling mist, clinging to your skin, in your hair, on your clothes. It all brought back the sensations of that first trip together. You fall back into his chest while he dips his head to mouth kisses into your neck, enjoying the quiet of the moment with you in a more physical way for a moment. Making you tilt your head to the side while the sun finally broke.

From the nearby pier, heavy pelicans lined the side to swoop down, skimming over the water in lines, giving the two of you a show all for yourselves, among the surf the small sandpipers chased after the tiny ghost crabs trying to escape back into the surf, all of it made you smile. This felt like home to you, right here with Frank.

“It feels like forever since we have visited.” You finally say as you turn to face Frank, the two of you stepping out of the surf, and hand in hand making your way along the beach's edge towards the pier, the sandpipers running away as fast as they could, a few taking to wing to fly several yards ahead of you to start there search in the surf retreating back from the edge once more.

“Been a couple years at least. I was looking at the calendar and realized an anniversary of ours was coming up.” He mentioned while you two stepped under the pier. A small private world for you two at the moment as far above you people made their way towards the end stretching out over the water, ready to drip lines for fishing in the surf. Here though, underneath it all, was just for you and Frank.

Nothing but water crashing to the shore, wood above your heads and the morning bringing back fond memories. Memories of shared kisses against one of the ageless logs helping to hold the deck yards above them steady, the way your legs wrapped around his hips as he pinned you in place and loved you so freely out in the open where they could be caught. How afterwards Frank said those words that he never uttered to anyone else in the way he said it to you.

Fuck I think I love you.

You thought then you loved him to. Now you knew you did. Your fingers looped in his belt loops and you walked backwards, till your back pressed once more against that sand and salt aged wood, looking up at him in the now very present dawn.

“You know Frank, I think I love you.”

“You know what Y/N, I think I love you too.” He winked, sliding in closer till he was pressed against you, his hands cupping the side of your face and tilting up to meet him, his tongue sliding past soft lips to the sweet heat of your mouth and tangling his tongue with yours. It elicited a soft moan from the back of your throat.

Warming salty air really agreed with Frank, mixing the tastes on your tongue, you curled your arms around his body, clutching at his back as you now clung to him, thoroughly enjoying the way this kiss made you feel.

The sensations of love and passion curling in your belly and your heart thud against your breast bone, absorbing into Frank as he pressed into your body, trying to daze you from rational thoughts, away from the everyday thoughts.

Frank had a talent at making you appreciate the here and now.

And right here, with sand covering your feet, your shirt and pants clinging to you from the ocean spray and your man completely pressing every ounce of his affection into you, you could do nothing but appreciate being in the moment.

“Scratch that, I don't think, I know I love you Frank Adler.” You managed to break out of his kiss for half a second.

“I know you do.” He assured you as he grasped the back of your thighs and lifted you enough to fold your legs around his waist. “I plan on showing you just how I feel.” He promised, the glint in his ocean blue eyes turning mischievously playful under that pier.

#siris5ksoftdarkchallenge #amber writes #sweater writes #frank adler x reader #frank adler x you #gifted au #frank adler fan fic #chris evans characters #remember?#i have a soft spot for this man #cant change wont change #i love just soft sweet moments for him #and making out under a pier is one of those moments #so lets all just give him love #shall we?#thanks for coming to my soft moment

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jinmukangwrites · 3 years

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Gifts

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Prompt

Summary: Wild tells of the gifts the past Champions have given him. All that's left is for the others to witness these gifts.

Warnings: Descriptions of injury, temporary character death.

Notes: Finally got a prompt done. Y'all proud of me? If you are, then know I wrote this instead of Chapter 2 of Succumb because I'm an awful creature who has a solid idea for the entire fic except Chapter 2 and I'm avoiding it. Stop being proud of me now.

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“How about you, Champ?”

Wild blinks from the daze he's fallen into and looks up to see eight pairs of eyes all looking right at him. The moon hangs lazily above them, nothing more than a C-shape tied to the stars to watch them all talk themselves to sleep. Wild’s zoned out of this one, for reasons he can’t really explain why. It’s not that what they’re talking about tonight is particularly dull or offensive. It’s just… well… they’re talking about magic and discussing the common theme that seems most sources of magic that they know has been given to them.

Time and Great Fairies. Hyrule and wise men in caves. Wild’s sure the others all have similar stories, he’s just decided to not listen to them tonight.

“About me?” He asks hopefully. Maybe they have changed topics while he was trying to decide what the woodchip by his boot resembles.

Four leans forward on his knees, wiggling his eyebrows. “Any magical gifts that you’ve been holding out on us?”

Wild tries not to let his disappointment show on his face. “Ah.” He curls his fingers around the hem of his tunic before they could nervously knit with each other on his lap. “Nothing that’s important.”

Besides him, Twilight scoffs. “Nothing that’s important? Cub, either you really are holding out on us or you’re being humble.”

“Wild? Humble?” Warriors snorts. “Perish the thought.”

Wild sighs. “Really, I don’t have any cool stories to tell tonight. I’d much rather listen to you all.”

“Listen, huh?” Four challenges, grinning like an imp. “Who taught Hyrule how to shoot fire from his sword?”

Wild rolls his eyes. “Some old guy in a cave.”

“Actually,” Hyrule says with a soft, apologetic smile, “it was an old man in a basement.”

“What is up with you and old men?”

“Anyway,” Twilight says, giving Wild a hard look, “you’re obviously not listening. Is something wrong? You’re usually more talkative.”

Does Twilight have to be a doting old mother in front of everyone? Wild can feel himself bristling. “Maybe I just don’t feel like talking tonight. Vet isn’t talking and you’re not pestering him.”

“That’s because Vet never talks about himself,” Warriors says, foiling Wild’s entire argument. Legend has a smug look on his face. “Not unless he’s trying to heighten his own ego.” Legend’s smug look falls into a glare.

“Fine,” Legend says. “I’ll tell one. Then Champ can tell one, so that you all will get off both of our backs.”

“It has to be serious, Leg,” Wind butts in, completely oblivious to Wild’s dying hope of getting out of this conversation. “No ‘I got my magic from being super cooler than everyone else’ bull.”

“I wasn’t going to,” Legend snaps. “Besides, I don’t have magic. I have magical items. Which is just as useful.”

“Then what’s that one?” Sky points at the small clay ocarina in Legend’s hands. “You’ve been holding it all night.”

Legend stills and his face softens, and immediately the whole group can tell that whatever that ocarina is, Legend has feelings attached to it. He takes a deep breath. “It’s not very magic,” he says, his fingers rubbing over the holes reverently. “It used to be able to summon a gust of wind to take me wherever I needed to go. It could also awaken the dead under specific circumstances… now it’s nothing but clay. It doesn’t work anymore.”

“Where’d you get it?” Wind asked, and not unkindly. He, like the rest of the group, knows that Legend wouldn’t be holding an item so tenderly if it only didn’t work anymore.

Legend stays silent for a moment, allowing the crickets in the forests to sing uninterrupted. Then, his shoulders fall. “The most beautiful woman I ever met gave it to me. She had the most lovely voice. This… after… after I lost her, I woke up stranded at sea. It was around my neck on a string… it’s all the proof I have that she ever existed.”

Silence hangs over the group like a heavy blanket. Wild can’t help but feel a lob of guilt get stuck in his chest. All he can do is sit and watch Sky lean over and place a hand on Legend’s knee.

“Love is one of the most powerful magics an item can hold, even if it’s just a good memory.”

Legend brings a sleeve to his eye, holding the ocarina tightly with his other hand. “Oh shut it, you sap,” he says through a smile. Sky smiles back, and Wild curls his arms across his chest.

Besides him, Twilight looks at him. Not expectantly, though, but with understanding. Perhaps he knows now why sometimes someone would wish to stay silent during these kinds of nights. Not everyone got magical gifts from old men in caves. Or basements.

But the guilt sits, and no one is saying it’s Wild’s turn to spill some beans. Not even Legend. But how could he stay silent after Legend told something so personal and sad? It’s not fair, even if he’s the only one who thinks so.

He bites the arrow and takes a breath.

“I don’t have magic. I have… blessings. From friends I had before the Calamity.”

For the second time that night, eight pairs of eyes fall onto him.

“I don’t use them much anymore,” Wild continues; somehow his hands have made it to his lap anyways, knitting his fingers together like string on needles, “they gave me everything they had so I could defeat Calamity Ganon. Now that he’s gone, I don’t want to abuse their gifts any longer.”

“I don’t mean to pry…” Four says, “but maybe they gave you everything they had to help you. Maybe they didn’t consider it abuse.”

And somehow, Wild doesn’t feel like Four is prying at all. In fact, it startles a chuckle out of him. “Maybe. But not Revali, that’s for sure. He and I got along worse than Vet and Cap.”

“Not an easy feat,” Warriors says to the others while nudging Legend with his elbow. Legend rolls his eyes. “I’m impressed.”

“What blessing did he give you?” Wild asks. There’s stars in his eyes that always get there when he gets too interested in a story. Though, Wild supposes any story involving a rival-ship greater than their very own Legend and Warriors is something to be interested in.

“It was the power to call upon the gusts of wind he used to command with his powerful wings. He was a Rito, the best there ever was. He could fly into the air without having to jump off of ledges. The wind would carry him up itself, like it belonged to him.”

-o-o-o-o-

Agony is a poison pulsing through Hyrule’s leg. The fall had been great, and it’s a miracle Wild had been there to dive down and at least try to lesson the fall with his paraglider. The ground was weak in these desert-y canyons, and maybe Hyrule shouldn’t have gotten so close to the ledge to warrant his boot’s slipping, but at least Wild was there.

Hyrule’s ankle is broken, or at least badly sprained. Either way, it’s painful enough that he can’t even stand up as Wild paces the bottom of the crevasse they have found themselves in like a pair of cornered animals. The others… they’re close to an hour’s worth of time away. He and Wild were exploring and gathering whatever they could find that might be used as firewood as the sun began to set. It’s been a terribly awful day of traveling in the desert heat, and he and Wild were excited to experience the sunset’s breeze while the others set up camp.

They got too excited. Too far away. There’s no way anyone will hear them if they call. No one will come looking until the sky is black.

And who knows, maybe they won't consider that maybe they fell. Maybe, if they come looking, they won't look down the right scar in the land, and they will burn to death in tomorrow's sun.

“What do we do?” Hyrule asks through an embarrassingly choked voice. He’s been fighting tears since the moment his ankle bent wrongly in their crash landing. He knows Wild will not judge him for sobs, but it doesn’t make it any easier for him to allow any to escape.

Wild sighs and glares up at the lip of the cliff they’ve fallen from. “Any trinkets?” he asks back.

Hyrule bites his lip. He wishes he were like the others and had a trinket for every situation. Legend had promised to give him an old grappling hook he had hoarded away the next time they end up at his and Ravio’s place. “No.”

“Okay,” Wild says. Not angrily. “Okay.”

Determined?

“Champ?”

Wild takes a deep breath and looks down at Hyrule with… fire in his eyes. “I won’t be long. Will you be okay while I fetch the others?”

Hyrule licks his lips and looks down at his leg, already braced with brush twigs and the wrappings that usually decorate Wild’s arms. A cold breeze blows suddenly, making Hyrule shiver and remember the desert only takes what it’s given when it comes to heat. When the sun’s up, it thrives, and when it’s gone…

“Don’t take long,” he replies, even though he doesn’t really know what Wild’s about to do.

Wild nods, shrugging off the cloak he usually always wears and gives it to Hyrule. Hyrule nods his thanks and takes the warm accessory, placing it over his head and wrapping the caped section around his shoulders.

He watches as Wild walks towards the edge of the cliff facing where the others are with camp. Hyrule wonders what he’s about to do as he clings to the edge of the cloak. Wild unfolds his paraglider from his back, baffling Hyrule even more, and widens his stance.

A moment passes. Then another.

Then a gust of wind appears seemingly out from the floor, powerful enough to blow dust back and almost get in Hyrule’s eye if he hadn’t instinctively covered his eyes. There’s a flash of teal through his fingers… then an unfamiliar voice snorts.

“About time, runt.”

By the time Hyrule deems it safe enough to uncover his eyes without getting dust in them, Wild is already high in the air. The miracle gust of wind cyclones in the spot his friend used to be, growing weaker and weaker by the second before it’s gone completely. There’s no sign of whoever made that flash of teal… nor who spoke, but Hyrule doesn’t think too into it as Wild drops his paraglider and grabs onto the upper ledge of the cliff.

Far above him, Wild climbs to safety and looks over the edge. He waves, and Hyrule cannot help the giggle that climbs through his throat as he waves back.

Pain in his ankle be damned, whatever Wild just did was cool, and as Wild turns and runs towards the others he knows he won't be in pain for long.

Not much longer than an hour passes before the others come with their ropes and grappling hooks and worried voices. Wild glides down to him to help carry him up. There’s something about the way he stands that gives Hyrule the feeling that he… realized something today. He gives Hyrule a bottle of health, then helps tie a rope around his waist as his ankle begins to hurt a little less.

As he’s lifted off the ground towards the top of the cliff by his friends, he looks at Wild who is clinging tight to Hyrule’s body like a stronger lifeline than any rope or chain.

“Was that Revali?” He asks, without really thinking.

Wild looks at him with wide eyes, and then a wider smile. “Yeah.”

Hyrule smiles back. “He sounded like an asshole.”

A startled laugh bursts from Wild’s mouth as he throws his head back. “He is an asshole,” he agrees in good nature.

They reach the top. They reach the others. Twilight scolds their ears off the entire way back towards camp, and Hyrule can't stop grinning for his own safety… and for whatever mended in Wild’s heart tonight.

-o-o-o-o-

“What about the others?”

“Well… ah… there’s Daruk. He was one of my oldest friends. The strongest Goron there ever was, though he was a little fearful of dogs.” Wild laughs, as do the others politely; probably imagining the biggest Goron they could be scared of a small fluffy animal. “He had the strength to block anything, and he was always ready to take a blow for the team. Even after… even after… he still protected me. He gave me the ability to call upon even a fraction of that power, that way nothing could hurt me in case my own shield failed. Without him… I would not be here, I’m confident in that.”

-o-o-o-o-

They honestly should have expected an ambush before Warriors was the one to call it out. Four likes to consider himself lucky for coming from a comparatively peaceful time, relatively speaking, but even he should have expected the top of the hill to be lined with determined monsters with big rocks.

The first few moments of watching the boulders come down feels almost like Four is stuck in time. There’s nowhere to run, the expanse of the monsters at the top is too great. Left or right would bring more chances of being hit. They can’t run back down the hill and outrun the danger either. Their only option is to dodge through the rocks until they can get to the top and take out the danger.

Distantly, as time spreads up, Four is aware of Time and Wild each releasing arrows towards the top of the hill, igniting various monsters on fire, but soon it becomes pure chaos. He can only focus on himself as he does his best to jump out of the way of rocks that are much bigger than him. The colors in his brain scream as he tries to remain calm and collected. No Blue, he can’t just jump over the boulders because it will look cool. Red please calm down you’re screaming too loudly. He knows to go left, Green!

It’s a miracle he’s managed to last this long with the confusion. Which is why he’s not surprised when something finally hits its mark. He’s just glad that when the agony of a shattered bone shoots through his body, it’s only his right shoulder that took the brunt of the hit.

Not that he has time to be thankful for that. After the boulder hits into his side, his balance is knocked right out of him. He ends up crashing to the tilted floor in a jumble of limbs and dust. There’s tears in his eyes, and he can barely focus enough to lift himself back up. His entire arm feels like he’s stuck it into the mouth of a dragon—teeth and all. His chest feels tight and his hip all bruised. He wouldn’t be surprised if he’s broken a few ribs as well.

He barely has enough time to look ahead of him from where he lies on the ground. There’s another boulder bouncing right towards him. If… if he doesn’t move now… he will surely die.

But he cannot move. He cannot move because his entire side hurts too badly for him to go at a speed that matters. He closes his eyes and tries to make himself smaller. Maybe, if the goddess decides she likes him today, she will allow the boulder to bounce over him… or something as unlikely.

Either way, he accepts whatever fate he’s about to meet, even as he hears Sky scream his name.

And maybe it’s because he’s a coward and he’s scared, but he opens his eyes to look at his approaching doom. Only… that’s not all that he sees. What he sees is Wild jump out right in front of him with a ball of orange energy surrounding his entire body. A surge of horror swells inside of his belly the moment he sees this. Is Wild serious?!

Then, a heartbeat passes, and the boulder rams right into Wild. What happens next, though, Four would never have guessed. The orange energy explodes in shatters around him. Standing over Wild, however, is a ghostly Goron that’s bigger than anything Four’s ever seen. He shouts as the boulder stops in its tracks, crumbling before his mighty fists.

“I got you, little buddy,” Daruk’s spirit says. Then, the teal spirit disappears with the orange energy, leaving Wild standing there with the shattered remains of the boulder at his feet. Up the hill, Warriors, Legend, Time, and Sky take out the remaining monsters before they can release any more rocks.

Wild turns towards Four with a crazed, adrenaline fueled gaze. There’s a grin on his face though, one that Four finds himself matching.

Next thing he knows, Twilight, Hyrule, and Wild are rushing to his form and shoving various medicine bottles into his face; of which he takes gratefully.

“Thank you, Wild,” Four makes sure to say once he’s finally back on his feet with a makeshift sling over his only slightly aching arm. Wild turns towards him to give a blushing smile. He rubs the back of his neck with his hand.

“I couldn’t just watch you die. It’s the least I could do.”

Four hums. “I’m still thankful. Though… your Goron friend looked big enough to squish me between his fingers.”

Wild grins. “Daruk wouldn’t do that. It’s his hugs you have to watch out for.”

Four’s sure that if Daruk’s hugs are anything like Wild’s, then those hugs would be very tight indeed.

“I will take your word for it, then.”

-o-o-o-o-

“And then there’s Urbosa. She… if you think you’ve met a scary Gerudo, then you haven’t met her.” Wild waves his hands in the air, only slightly aware that he’s getting too invested in this story now. He didn't mean to spill his guts on his past friends tonight, but here he is, living their memory. Passing on their stories to his new friends. He finds he doesn’t mind it as much as he did several minutes ago. He doesn’t know why he was afraid. “She was the leader of her people, and she could summon lightning onto anyone who's ever defied her. She fought armies of Yiga all on her own and came out without a scratch. She’s blessed me with the ability to summon lighting as well. It’s my most powerful attack, and it’s saved my ass more times than I can count.”

-o-o-o-o-

This is bad. Very bad. Time can’t even properly express how bad this is.

An ambush of monsters? That’s manageable. He has confidence in himself and his companions to be able to handle a meager ambush. However, this? This is a whole army of monsters. Lizalfos, apparently, like to group up in camps when they’re not scrambling around in ancient dungeons and temples.

There’s enough to outnumber the heroes five-to-one. It’s not impossible to take them down if they had stuck to the outer edges of the camp and took a good portion of them out with long ranged attacks… however what happened was much less graceful. They walked into the forest, intending to make a camp for the night, just to wander right into a community of Lizalfos armed to the tails.

So now? They’re running; the monsters in an excited chase. Like Time said: This. Is. Bad.

“We lead them to the river,” Warriors suggests, ever thinking of solutions. “We can push them in and weaken their numbers.”

“I say we turn and fight!” Wind shouts. He looks too excited. He pulls a bomb out from his satchel and before Time can say anything, the boy turns around and throws it at their pursuers. There’s a blast, a few screeches, but nothing significant happens. The numbers are too great. Wind is pulling out another bomb.

“The river,” Time says, nodding at Warriors. Wind cheers as another explosion erupts. He leaves the boy to it. As long as he keeps up. “It’s the best bet.”

Time turns his head to tell the others about the makeshift plan, but before he can say a thing Wild looks him straight in the eye. “Have everyone get as far as you can away, I know what to do.”

“What?” Time asks, baffled.

Wild doesn’t explain. He just turns heel and runs the other way towards the enemy.

“Cub?!” Twilight shouts, turning around as well to grab his wayward protégé, but Time grabs his shoulder and keeps him running in the opposite direction. Twilight gives him a panicked look.

“I don’t know what he plans,” Time explains, “but he seems confident. Trust him.”

Twilight swallows and nods. Time shouts at the others to pick up the pace.

Behind him, the Lizalfos screech in delight, a sign they and Wild have now met face-to-face.

Whatever you’re about to do, wild one, do it now.

He doesn’t have to wait long. The smell of ozone becomes intoxicating all within a heartbeat. The hairs at the back of his neck rise as the sky goes impossibly dark for the time of dusk that it is. Then, light flashes all around him in thunderous claps. He can barely hear the sound of screaming monsters over the bolts. Time can’t help but stop in his tracks and turn, lifting a hand above his brow to see green lighting like he’s never seen before attacking the earth through the trees.

As soon as it begins, it ends, and the sky brightens with silence.

Time doesn’t waste time running forward. What he finds when he runs towards the small clearing Wild had met the monsters in is something he will never forget. Static energy seems to curl around his hand, raised into the air and on the end of a snap. Beside him stands a tall Gerudo woman, cloaked in a ghostly aura, her back towards the others and her hand on Wild’s shoulder in triumph and fierce protection. There’s nothing but black, charred corpses of monsters around them.

Time watches, as do the others, transfixed as Urbosa looks down at Wild and smirks.

“You should have called earlier, my desert flower.”

-o-o-o-o-

Everyone looks so transfixed, that Wild almost moves on without really thinking about it. Only… the words catch in his throat. He finishes telling of Urbosa, and just… freezes. His hands are back in his lap, wringing each other out.

He was so engrossed with his own stories that he’s forgotten that while he loves each of his past friends equally… not all are so easy to talk about.

The others must sense his inner struggle, as none of them call out his sudden silence. He knows that if he decided to stop now and not tell them of his last blessing… they would not argue. They must know this pause is similar to when Twilight stops talking about his adventure when he reaches the point where he meets a mysterious companion. Similar to when Time pauses in his magical tales of his childhood. Similar to when Sky looks off in the distance with his voice trailing off as he tells of special places in the sky.

It’s a pause of loss. A pause of something cherished. A pause of something that you fought so hard for, but will never come back.

A hand falls on top of his own. He recognizes the shape of Twilight’s calluses without having to look up at him. “You do not have to force yourself to continue,” he says.

Wild shakes his head. “I’m alright. I can continue…”

A beat of silence. Wild takes a breath.

“Last is… Mipha. Not only was she the most beautiful Zora I’ve ever met, but also the most beautiful soul. She… would always be there for me… whenever I got hurt. She could heal my wounds better than any potion. I…” his throat bobs, the words are no longer coming. “I cannot bring myself to tell of her gift. It’s too special. I pray I never have to use it again, nor must any of you witness it.”

-o-o-o-o-

Twilight didn’t know what to think when the attack had begun. It didn’t start with a shout. It didn’t start with the enemy running screaming out from the shadows of the trees with swords raised. It didn’t start like any kind of monster attack that Twilight had grown so used to.

It’s probably why they were unprepared for an attack by something smarter than monsters. Something that has no problem sitting quietly in the trees, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. He’s heard that there’s a group of former Sheikah in Wild’s world who have it in for the hero’s life, he just never really expected to meet them.

That’s probably why the arrow met it’s mark too. They’ve all grown accustomed to the sloppy ambushes put together by monsters. It’s the only thing Twilight can think of to justify how none of them saw it coming until there was a thwip of a feathered arrow flying through the air… and landing with a thunk in Wild’s stomach.

Wild fell to the ground, and with a flash of cards and light appeared several Yiga Clan members. Nobody stopped to stare. It was pure rage from the heroes at that point, and as soon as it began the Clan members all put their hands together and retreated into seemingly thin air. It all ended about as soon as it began.

And the only thing he could think about now is Wild laying there on the ground in a growing pool of his own blood. The arrow still sticks out of his midsection, undoubtedly having hit something important judging by the trail of red going down the corners of his mouth.

Twilight is the first to run up to his side, but thanks to the quick thinking of Warriors, he’s not the first to offer a way of healing.

However, by the time the bottle of the red potion reaches his life stained lips… it’s too late. Twilight can only stare in horror as the light leaves Wild’s eyes.

The Yiga Clan… they’ve succeeded… and everyone knows it when Warriors falls backwards in defeat to sit on his heels, looking down at the full bottle of healing in his hands. Sky falls to his knees. Hyrule chokes a cry. Twilight's sure the rest of them are feeling their own reactions of grief, but he can no longer pay attention to anything but his own.

He’s… he’s failed. The one person he swore he would protect… pass on his ways… his stories… his teachings… it’s all for nothing. All it is now is a gaping hole in his heart. His cheeks are wet with tears that came too quickly.

Suddenly, something happens. There’s a flash of teal, and somewhere behind him someone gasps. Twilight can only watch with wide, tear-drowned eyes, as the teal swirls around into the glowing form of a beautiful Zora.

All eyes are on her, but hers are on Wild. There’s a fondness to her face that could be mistaken for sadness. Her hand brushes his cheek, and to Twilight's surprise Wild blinks and breathes in a soft breath. The hole in his stomach glows bright blue… and the arrow dissipates in shining bubbles.

“I will always heal you when you need me, my love.”

Then, she’s gone before anyone, including Wild, can respond.

Wild slowly raises himself to his elbows, blinking and smiling sheepishly like he’s never gotten even a scratch.

“I’m sorry you all had to-” he begins, but Twilight cuts him off by launching himself forward and wrapping the idiot in his arms. Mipha’s gift, the one he wouldn’t tell them about because it was too special, the one he never wanted them to witness…

He’s such an idiot.

“Shut up,” Twilight says through a tight breath. “Thank the spirits… just let me hold you.”

Wild doesn’t say anything, he just returns the embrace and the hold just as tightly.

Thank Hylia and all of the goddesses for this miracle. Wild clearly has friends that care so much about him that they would protect him fiercely even after their deaths. Twilight knows that from now on, he will spend his nights praying thankfulness to them. Wild is a formidable hero, one of the best in fact, yet Twilight can only imagine where he would be without these gifts. Imagining it makes his gut twist, however, so he squeezes his hold just once before letting go.

He smiles at the younger boy, and Wild smiles back, everything that needs to be said being translated there alone. You scared me. I’m sorry. Don’t apologize, just be more careful. No promises… but I will try.

The wordless conversation passes between them in a moment, and the moment is broken by Wind pouncing onto Wild. Wild, the poor boy, is shoved straight onto his back from the force of the tackle, yet he’s laughing as Wind calls him an idiot over and over. Everyone else gathers as well, to tell him they’re glad he’s alive in their own ways. Time places a hand on Twilight’s shoulder and shares a knowing look.

“Let’s set up camp early tonight,” he says, and Twilight cannot help but agree.

As Time announces the plan to the others, separating the others and telling them to give Wild some space, Twilight lets his heart calm. Wild always says he was alone in his adventures, but now he knows that that wasn’t all true. He also knows now why Wild doesn’t abuse the abilities his friends gave him.

With a silent vow, he promises Revali, Daruk, Urbosa, and Mipha that he will work harder to protect their boy. For now, Wild has been barred from making dinner tonight, and Twilight has to be sure that Hyrule gets nowhere near the cooking pot.

#linked universe #hero of the wild #jin writes #fanfiction #violence tw #temporary character death #ficlet #blood tw

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heliads · 3 years

Text

Into Thin Air

Newt doesn’t know what to think after Y/N disappears one night in the Scorch. She’s nowhere to be found, until a few weeks later she shows up with the girls from Group B. The only problem is that she can’t remember who Newt is, and all Newt can remember is how much he loves her.

masterlist

Newt sits alone, staring out at the desolate desert before him. He’s hidden from view, sheltered by a craggy outcropping, but the protection does little to settle the turmoil of thoughts lurking inside his head. The sound of footsteps approaches behind him, but Newt doesn’t have to turn his head to recognize his friend.

Minho stoops and sits down a few feet away. Newt glances at him. It’s strange- all of Newt’s memories of his life before the Maze have been stripped away, leaving behind only his time trapped within those walls. Minho is his best friend, but Newt can’t help but wonder if he had other friends, before all of this started. Before he was imprisoned in the Maze, before they escaped WICKED and stuck themselves in the desert. Did he have friends before that? Would it really matter if he did, anyway? If they’re not dead by now, they will be soon.

But he has Minho, and that’s enough. Minho’s been his friend for a long time. Newt hasn’t really known anyone for that long, or grown that close, except maybe Alby. Even the thought of the guy makes Newt’s throat burn. He’d known the guy forever, even been his second in command for all that time in the Maze. Newt can still picture Alby’s face in the back of his mind, that look of determination just before the Griever snatched him away. They’ve lost so many people. Alby, and Chuck, and Winston, and-

Newt can’t quite bring himself to finish the sentence.

Distantly, Newt realizes that Minho is still there, and staring out over the same horizon Newt had been studying a few minutes ago. At last, the other boy speaks. “We’re going to find her, you know? There’s no way we won’t.” Newt sighs. “We don’t know if she’s out there anymore. Or if she’s even somewhere we can find.”

Minho shakes his head, resolute. “She has to be somewhere. They wouldn’t take her just to kill her when nobody is watching.” Newt opens his mouth to argue, but Minho holds up a hand and continues speaking. “WICKED had to have taken her. She would never have left any of us, and definitely not you. Besides, we went to sleep with her right next to us, and woke up to her gone. No footprints, no tracks, no nothing. If she had left on her own accord, we would have seen a trail leading away, but there was just blank sand. It’s like she never even existed. Does that sound like some girl who’s sick of us and wanted to leave, or like WICKED wanted to send a message?”

Newt’s heard Minho’s attempt to soothe his worries a couple of times now, but he still plays along. “What message would WICKED want to send instead of just taking all of us? If they have the ability to get her, what’s stopping them from completing the job and getting all of us back?” Minho jabs a finger in the air, ready to prove his point. “They want to scare us, make us think that WICKED’s way more powerful than we’ll ever be. If they pick us off one by one, they’re hoping that we’ll come back to them easily instead of them having to chase us down. Less damage to the subjects if they return of their own free will, right?”

Newt chuckles quietly. “If they were interested in keeping their subjects in the best condition they wouldn’t have put us through the bloody Maze in the first place. They would have stuck to inkblots and blood tests like any other reasonable doctor.” Minho grins. “Hey, who said they were reasonable? They just don’t want us killed off before they get the chance to do it themselves.”

In spite of himself, Newt feels a smile growing on his face. “Alright, alright. I’ll stop moping. Are we heading out soon?” Minho stands, clapping his friend on the back as he leaves the outcropping. “In a few minutes. Thomas thinks the Right Arm reinforcements should be in the mountains just a mile or so down. We’re almost there.”

The Right Arm. Thomas seems convinced that the people of the Right Arm can help them, and save the Gladers from inevitable deaths at the hands of WICKED. It doesn’t make a whole lot of sense- use a shadowy, mysterious organization to escape another mysterious organization? At least the Right Arm isn’t known for running death tests on teenagers. That’s already a bonus.

The path to the mountains is dangerous, but to be honest, what part of their journey hasn’t been dangerous? Newt thinks it’s going fine, that although the terrain isn’t the best they’re at least making progress, and then the bullets start to ring out. Instantly, everyone panics and starts to hurtle toward whatever cover they can scrounge up in the desert, cowering as gunfire rains down around them. From the corner of his eye, Newt sees a couple of figures emerge from the mountains, faces hidden and weapons drawn.

Newt shoves Thomas and Minho to get their attention, and they start to come out with their hands drawn. Three figures stand before them, weapons pointed at them. Newt scans their faces, but he doesn’t recognize the first one, or the next. It’s only when his gaze falls upon the last of the three, on the figure standing farthest away, that he feels his heart freeze in his chest.

It’s not her. It couldn’t possibly be her. But yet-

Before he even knows what he’s doing, Newt is stepping away from the protective cover of the car, away from his friends, and towards the third figure. He can see Thomas and Minho extending their arms to pull him back, but they’re moving slowly, as if coming from far away. All that matters now is the girl before him, the girl with those all-too-familiar eyes that are now glaring at him in fear.

Newt’s voice comes cracked and quiet in the space at the foot of the mountains. “Y/N?” The girl levels her gun at him. “Who are you, and how do you know my name?” Newt stumbles, thrown by less by her threatening tone of voice and more the words that she’s just said. “Y/N? Why don’t you-” Hie voice breaks off into silence. Minho and Thomas are next to him now, and all Newt can do is stare at the girl in front of him. “Why doesn’t she know who I am?”

The other two figures are by Y/N’s side in an instant, the two pairs of three staring at each other. The tension builds and builds until finally the first of the figures glances away, at the other boy walking up to them. “Aris?” Suddenly, the hostility vanishes, and the figures are pulling away their face coverings to reveal the smiling faces of two girls. Aris turns back to them, clearly happy to see the girls. “This is Harriet and Sonya. They’re from Group B.” He addresses the Group B girls now: “They’re with me. They’re friends. They helped me escape from WICKED.”

Harriet and Sonya nod, but Newt just watches as the third girl hesitantly removes her own coverings. Sure enough, it’s Y/N. Harriet notices Newt’s stare and turns to his former friend. “Y/N, do you know these guys?” Y/N shakes her head. “I have no idea who they are, or how they know who I am.” Newt’s heart seems to drop in his chest. “What are you talking about? Y/N, I’ve known you for about a year, ever since you came into the Maze.”

Y/N’s eyes hold no recognition, no laughter, no light. She seems to have no idea who Newt is. “All I know is that I showed up one day alongside the Group B girls. They’ve been my family ever since.” She walks away, presumably to tell the people with guns to stand down. Newt is left alone with the words dying on his tongue: We were your family first.

Newt watches from a distance as his friends talk and laugh around him. They’re happy to have the Group B girls, who went through the Maze just like the Gladers did, and they’re relieved to have the protection of the Right Arm. Newt should be out there too, finally allowing himself to relax or at least have a good time, but he can’t quite muster up the energy to fake the smiles. Y/N doesn’t recognize him. That’s the only thing he has room to think about right now.

As if just thinking about the girl was a summoning, Newt turns to see a familiar figure walking away from the fire and coming to stand next to him. This picture, the two of them standing so close together, away from everyone else, is so painfully familiar that it hurts to know that she isn’t thinking of the connection they once shared. All Newt can think about is that he’s stood by her a hundred times, but all she can think about is that the boy next to her is a stranger, someone she’s never even seen before.

Y/N is the first to speak. “Is it true? Did you really- did you really know who I was?” Newt nods hollowly. “We first met when you arrived in the Maze. We were friends for a while, and-” He cuts himself off. He can’t talk about that, not right now. “And then we escaped, and you disappeared.” Y/N looks at the ground, at the fire, at her friends. Anywhere but him. “I have this strange feeling like I know who you are. Or I should, at least. But I can’t remember a single thing about you.” Newt stands silently, not trusting himself to speak.

Y/N turns to him at last, eyes burning into his own. He’s missed that look, that focus brushing across her brow. “Can you tell me what I was like? You know, in your Maze?” Newt sighs. “I’m not sure we could fit it into one night. You were there almost as long as I was, bordering on two years.” Y/N’s gaze is unrelenting. “Can you try?” Newt could never say no to her. Not in the Maze, and not now, when it’s just the two of them and he’s missed her so much. He clears his throat, and begins to speak.

“We were friends at first. Probably since the moment you showed up. You had this way of getting people to listen to you, even when the shanks were seconds away from tearing each other apart. There were only a few of us in the Maze, or at least at the beginning. You, me, Alby, and Minho. We were like a little family. I thought our friendship would last forever, and then other boys started showing up.”

Y/N frowns. “Did we fight or something?” Newt laughs ruefully. “No, we just- Well, I was kind of a shucking idiot myself. This one boy showed up, and he used to make me so angry. You’d be doing your job, not focusing on anything else, and then he’d come up and start talking to you. I didn’t know why it was bothering me so much, that he would be there for just a few seconds and the two of you would be laughing like you’d known each other all your lives, and then I realized after a while that it wasn’t him that annoyed me, it was that I was just jealous. Stupid, but jealous all along.”

“I kept it to myself, didn’t want to bother you. I didn’t realize you loved me until later.” Y/N looks up at him, mouth slightly tilted down into a frown. “But then what happened with you?” Newt smiles to himself. “I’d loved you all along. Don’t think I had much choice in the matter. Anyways, it took me a while to get up the courage, but I told you how I felt one night at the bonfire. I was nervous about it, but you just looked at me with this smile and I knew everything was going to be alright.”

Y/N’s smiling now. It’s strange, thinking of that night with this new Y/N next to him. She’s got the same expression on her face as the night Newt told her he loved her, and it cuts away at Newt that she could smile at him like that without remembering that night at all. Newt realizes he’s been staring too long, because Y/N gently nudges his arm. “Go on.” Newt looks away, fighting the shyness that suddenly overwhelmed him.

“We were happy, for a long time. We had months of uneventful life. Well, as uneventful as the Maze can be. Then Thomas and Teresa showed up, and the Maze doors didn’t close, and the Grievers attacked us all.” Newt’s eyes flicker shut as he remembers that night, remembering the tongues of flame spiraling over the buildings and the horrified looks of his friends. He can still hear the screaming, smell the coppery tang of blood like the scene was still being played out around him.

“We managed to escape. Not quite sure how. I don’t think I was scared for myself, more that you were going to die and I was going to have to live without you. When we first showed up at Janson’s building, I thought we were finally out and in the clear. We were so excited to have escaped and have a new life, one where we could actually relax and be just teenagers.” Newt’s voice twists into something bitter as he remembers how hopeful they’d been, and how quickly that hope had fallen apart, just like everything else that seemed to come their way.

“Then Janson turned out to be with WICKED, so we escaped. Took a while and a lot of running, but we made it out.” Newt falls silent, and Y/N tilts her head expectantly. “And then what?” Newt swallows unevenly, still feeling the pain and overwhelming heartache of that one specific night. “And then we were alone in the desert, all of us from the Glade who’d made it out plus Aris. We went down to sleep, late at night. You were right next to me. When I opened my eyes, you were gone.”

Newt looks away, fighting back the hot prick of tears threatening to appear at the corners of his eyes. “That was the worst part. You were right there, so close. There was no way you could have left without waking me. I knew you wouldn’t leave, so it had to be WICKED, but it still hurt. I was so worried that you’d died, or that they had dragged you back to their facilities and were experimenting on you-”

Newt can’t finish. Y/N nods, understanding. “And then you showed up to the mountains, and I had no idea who you were.” “Exactly.” Y/N sighs, leaning up against the rocky crag behind her. “I don’t know what to say. It all sounds familiar, but it just doesn’t sound like me. Are you sure that you’ve got the right girl?”

Newt nods. He’d know Y/N in a heartbeat, across the darkest night, anywhere. This girl is the one he loves, right down to that slight crease in her brow that she gets whenever she can’t figure something out. “I don’t know how to explain it. You are you, Y/N, and you’re the same girl I’ve been in love with since the Maze. You’re the same girl who always had a smile, even when things got dark, who yelled at the Builders but made friends with all the Greenies, who helped everyone survive the Maze because that’s just who you were.” Newt draws a ragged breath. “You’re the same Y/N who made me fall in love with you, and I’m not going to let any trick from WICKED convince me to let you go.”

Newt’s staring off into the darkness of the desert, but he turns with a start when he hears a slight noise from Y/N. He stares at her. She’s almost bent double in pain, hands clutching her head. He rushes over to her, helping her to the ground. “Y/N! Are you alright? What happened?” She just shakes her head, gritting her teeth through the pain. “I don’t know. You started talking, and I felt like I recognized something, and then my head started feeling like it was about to crack in two.”

She squeezes her eyes shut in agony, and her shoulders tense up in a spasm of anguish but then suddenly fall still. She lies on the ground, silent. Newt feels like his heart is in his throat. “Y/N? Can you hear me?” Her eyes open slowly, eyelashes fluttering in a dark frame around her eyes. She looks at him for a moment, then two, as if drinking in the sight of him. She reaches out a shaking hand to him, lightly touching his cheek. “Newt?” Her voice is quiet, as if she’s doubting herself, and then she breaks into a grin.

“Newt. Yes. I remember you.” All of Newt’s worries leave him in a rush, and he wraps his arms around her, pulling her close. “Y/N?” She nods, laughing slightly. “I remember everything. The Maze, the Gladers, you, everything.” She pulls back, smiling, so she can look in his eyes. “I don’t remember the part about you being in love with me from the start. You should have told me that earlier.” Newt chuckles, helping her stand. “I was trying to help you get your memories back. I’m sure it was just a dramatized detail.”

She flashes him a beaming glare. “I’m sure it was.” Newt can’t take his eyes off of her. “I was so worried, you know that? I was so worried that you’d left.” Y/N shakes her head. “I could never leave you. Not in a million years.” Newt lets himself smile again, and reaches out to lock his hand around hers. Y/N remembers him. The girl he loves is finally back once more.

#newt #newt imagine #newt x reader #newt imagines #newt oneshot #maze runner #maze runner imagine #maze runner x reader #maze runner imagines #maze runner oneshot

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elfyourmother · 2 years

Note

Tweaking this question to suit better:

1. Why did they pick their first class/job? Why do they main the jobs they do?

Thaumaturge was her first class and she didn’t choose it so much as it was chosen for her. When she woke up in the desert with no memory of anything except her name, the only other thing she knew was that she had to go get training from the Thaumaturge Guild in Ul’dah. How or why that is she still has no idea, but she suspects it was Hydaelyn subtly nudging her in the right direction, another way of helping her acclimate to life on Source and her role by something very familiar and comfortable, magic. Though now, as of 6.1, Gisele thinks maybe Nald’thal had a hand in it too considering she was a freshly not-dead-anymore person in a strange (to her) new world without a means to support herself, and that guild is literally in his temple.

The thing is, despite her mastering many other disciplines, Gisele is first and foremost a capital-M Mage, it’s fundamentally at the core of her identity and always has been. She comes from a long line of powerful Dalish mages, including her father. Even in the Circle she was told from a young age that she had the potential to be the most powerful mage in a generation. And for a small, impoverished, chronically ill kid from the Denerim alienage who was so powerless in so many respects, that was a huge deal! To Gisele, magic meant power and her prodigious skill with it was empowering to her, for all she was locked in a gilded cage for it. Her hunger for learning, her ambition to be the very best at what she does, and her relentless drive/work ethic is what makes her so good at it. All of this combined with her Circle foundation is why she’s like a fish to water when it comes to the magic Jobs, whether it’s the destructive ones or the healing ones.

Teleportation is literally the only “new” skill she’s picked up in terms of aether manipulation, if we’re not talking about the more overtly physical disciplines. (And I have some theories about why it doesn’t work in Thedas/the Seventh after EW, mostly to do with a surfeit of Dynamis and aetheric imbalances caused by the darkspawn taint, but that’s another post)

Magic has defined the whole of her life’s path, too, for better and worse. Take away her ability to wield a blade or a chakram or a gun, and she’ll live. But take away her magic, and Gisele’s not Gisele anymore. Which incidentally is why getting shoved into the body of a random Garlean soldier was the single most terrifying experience of her life that didn’t involve the Deep Roads.

Re: the question of what she “Mains”. From a meta standpoint, in some ways it feels weird naming a single Job for that, because Gisele’s versatility is her strength in battle and her calling card even in universe—if she were XIV’s Dissidia representative for instance, she would play a lot like Firion, Onion Knight or Bartz, Job swapping with ease in combat. But it’s that very thing, along with the running theme of Balance in all things that’s been at the core of her characterization/story theme from the very beginning in DA, that leads me to Red Mage as her main. It’s the culmination of three disciplines and even in canon one has to study Black and White Magic extensively to begin to have a grasp of Red (this comes up in the Job quests, with Arya). And Gisele already had a leg up to start, even just learning Black and White Magic, because as Thedosian Circle Mages are much more well-rounded than their counterparts on Source. She was trained in the Primal and Creation schools from the moment she got there, and those are just thaumaturgy and conjury. In Thedas she was a Spirit Healer/Arcane Warrior, and the way I conceived of Arcane Warrior was always much more akin to a traditional Final Fantasy Red Mage (with a dash of 2E AD&D Bladesinger) than the auto-attacking tin can spending all mana on buffs the way the playstyle actually worked in DA:O without mods.

Aesthetically it’s so Gisele, too. There’s the rose motif, which has been such a very strong symbol for her forever that I even wrote meta about it years ago. And it’s also incredibly stylish, which is something Very Important for someone as image and style conscious as Gisele. And if we’re talking “Dashing Lady Adventurer of Fortune” I’d be hard pressed to think of something more fitting than RDM.

But I also have to mention AST as “co-main”, if only because in universe Gisele is primarily famous for being a Red Mage and an Astrologian specifically, on top of just generally “Sorceress”. Again because of the aesthetics of course (it’s by far the prettiest of the the healing Jobs imo, from AF gear to actual spells), but also because much like Red Magic’s emphasis on inner balance, Sharlayan astrology is also very fitting for a woman whose entire raison d’etre is defiance of fate. Gisele didn’t even believe in it until her rebirth in Eorzea; “I make my own fate” was her mantra, and even though she came to believe very strongly in it and in her role as Hydaelyn’s champion, she still believed in doing it her way, seizing destiny on her own terms and bending it to her will. It’s why Haurchefant is still standing, after all, and why she jumped off an airship to save Ysayle. Gisele has never simply accepted anything at face value, she was always that child asking, “why?” So AST’s theme of nudging fate is right up her alley and it’s why she took to it so well, on top of just being damn good at any kind of magic.

(As an aside, most of her physical disciplines were taken up because of her proximity to folks who were really good at them, and her innate sense of curiosity. She learned Samurai from Hien, for instance, and Paladin from Haurchefant and Aymeric.)

(Meme here!)

#askbox memes #oc memes #gisele surana #allycryz #ask bisho

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the-silentium · 4 years

Text

Quits

Masterlist

Pairing: Five Hargreeves x Reader

Words: 2200 words

Warnings: TUA season 1 and 2 spoilers, violence, blood, swearing.

Requested by: Anon!

Hi!! Can i get a five x reader where the reader gets shot or stabbed or something but doesnt tell anyone and ends up passing out? Thanks!!

A/N: I’m back at my requests! Thank you Anon for this sweet lil’ idea and I hope it lives up to your expectations as it does with mine ❤ Requests are still open!

You remember a time when you took pride in your capacity to make the right choice at the right time. When school asked you what you wanted to do in life, you chose the right one from the start unlike the majority of your friends who had to change classes multiple times and were now a happy veterinarian. When life put on your path the incarnation of your perfect partner, you decided to take it slow to see where it went. Fortunately for you, you quickly saw through his facade and kicked him out before he could create more permanent damage to your heart.

Your life was full of important decisions that were though at the time. Sometimes you had to take some days to think about it when other times it took you hours. They were all risky shots that could end up badly for you in the end so you liked to take your time to think about it.

This is why when Five Hargreeves, your childhood closest friend, knocked at your door one day and asked for your help to stop the fast-arriving apocalypse, you didn't think twice and immediately accepted. How could you make the bad choice by helping him save the world? If he failed you would die, he would die, everyone would die and this is obviously the bad end of the story, right?

Well, as of right now, you were starting to doubt it. After failing to stop 2019's apocalypse and after Five had time-traveled every living Hargreeves plus yourself in the 1960s, you found yourself in two precarious situations: one, you were back in your 13-year-old self and two, you were not fighting two crazy hard-ass Commissioners, but three crazy hard-ass IKEA mafioso!

It was a miracle that you survived the raid on the Hargreeves Mansion unscathed. You had thanked your luck for allowing you to live another day, although you regret ever doing so. Clearly, you had jinxed yourself, for surviving the Swedes ambush at the Mexican consulate wasn't as painless as the raid.

A very well-sharpened knife had managed to pierce your skin, getting in your abdomen all the way to the hilt before you managed to kick the white-haired man down a nice flight of stairs. Your medical instinct pushed you to hastily insert some absorbent tissue into your wound to control the bleed and allow you to check it later.

Sadly, one thing led to another and you were now sitting with all six Hargreeves who were currently trying to formulate a plan of some sort while Diego was focussed on his JFK conspiracy and you were literally bleeding out.

The once pristine washcloth you had stolen in the kitchen was completely soaked, staining your blue shirt with dark red spots. Speaking of spots, hundreds of tiny black ones were now dancing in your line of sight like dark fireflies.

"Has anyone here done anything to screw up the timeline?"

You lifted your hand hoping to get the attention of the others, obviously working when Luther asked what you'd done.

"Anything yet, but would it screw the timeline if I died here?"

You saw Five frowns in confusion, his mouth opening on a question before yelling your name when you couldn't hold yourself up anymore and fell to the ground. Strong arms lifted you from the floor and you landed on a comfy cloud. You smiled in contentment, it has been a while since you had a proper night of sleep. This cloud will be perfect for a nap.

Tiny slaps on your left cheek forced your eyes to open and meet a concerned blue gaze.

"So pretty." You mumbled, still focussing on the blue eyes frantically scanning your face.

Oh did I mentioned earlier that you had a crush on Five? Because you do and it is not small if after 15 years your heart still accelerates when you merely meet his gaze.

"Don't sleep okay? Keep your eyes open!" You laughed at his command, it is the same thing you told him the day he lost consciousness at Leonard's cabin. You had a snarky remark at the tip of your tongue but it died on your lips when darkness forced its way upon you.

………………………

Even before your mind was operational enough to create thoughts, your brain was already running full speed and relentlessly reminded you that your abdomen was on fire. The pain was a great ally into your mission to wake up and open your eyes. Maybe you would be able to ask for some painkillers.

The harsh neon light shining over your head made you tear up the second your eyes opened to assess your environment. You tried again, slower this time, and found yourself confused by your surroundings.

Many times in your childhood you had passed time in this room, planning pranks, doing homework, reading, or just hanging out. Nothing had changed excepted the walls that were now covered in equations and names.

Groggily, you attempted to seat up, your abdominal muscles screamed in agony at your movements forcing you to stay on your back. The groan that erupted from your throat alarmed a passer-by who raced to the door, opening it so fast that it collided with the wall.

"She's awake!" Klaus shouted in the corridor when he saw your wide-open eyes. He only had time to put a foot into the bedroom that a blue light appeared out of nowhere announcing Five's arrival. Your heart was beating too quickly by the time Five had pushed Klaus out of his room and slammed the door shut behind him.

“What were you thinking?!” Five's anger caused you to frown. What did you do? You searched your mind for an answer and quickly found one in the vivid memory of a knife diving into your flesh.

You opened your mouth to talk your mind but nothing came out of the desert that was your throat. Noticing your problem, Five caught a water bottle from his nightstand, cautiously brought it to your lips, and let you drink small sips of the freshwater. Satisfied, you coughed once to prepare your throat.

“Now you know how it felt so we are quits.” You answered, referring to the time in Leonard’s cabin where you felt like the world had stopped when Five lost consciousness. You took care of him as best as you could despite your field of expertise being animals you had a basic understanding of the human anatomy, so with your trembling hands covered in his blood while desperately trying to not notice how much there was, you worked as effectively as you could to keep the love of your life alive.

"This is not a game! You could have died!" You would have believed his angry eyes if only his hands weren't shaking so much. You were friend with Five for long enough to know how to read his temper and now, he was scared.

"But I didn't." You tried to calm him down with your calm voice. You remember jumping at his neck the second he woke up that time he passed out, why couldn't he do the same instead of yelling at you?

You watched him open his mouth a couple of times before closing it, clearly thinking through what he was going to say. When he finally chose, his voice was barely audible. "Selfish."

You blinked in confusion at his statement. "Me? Selfish?" With each word now, your voice was raising until you reached the point where you were yelling at the blue-eyed 30 years old man. "Everything I did was to save the damn world from the apocalypse and you call me selfish?! I took a fucking knife to the gut and dealt with it for the sake of the world and you call me self-"

"I wasn't talking about you." Now this stopped you good. You frowned in confusion, not seeing where he was going. "I was talking about me."

Your head tilted to the side, searching your brain as to why Five would call himself selfish. All he did was for his family, he never acted for himself, so why?

"I almost let everything down to make sure you made it back alive. I almost let the world end for you because I can't imagine living another 45 years where you're not there." His words were soft, a tone that you weren't aware was used exclusively around you. His gaze fled yours, switching between the scribbles on the walls and the foot of the bed.

Color rushed to your face for his words definitely sounded like a confession to your ears. Your childhood self had waited for so long to hear something of the type, so long that you thought the friendzone was the ultimate area that you would be welcome in. You accepted that your feelings were strong enough to be pleased by his happiness even with someone else.

A smile formed on your lips causing Five's heart to miss a beat in its rhythmic pumping. "I-"

"Guys they are doing it!" Klaus' loud voice on the other side of the door cut you off.

"Doing what?" Allison had joined her brother at the door, confused of his antics.

"Admitting their undying love for each other!" At this point Five had opened the door swiftly, his murderous gaze fell on his siblings, daring them to say something more. It was at this moment that Klaus realized how scary his brother was in reality, he wasn't the little Number Five anymore, but a grown-up man who could easily murder him in a thousand ways possible.

"Oh heck no!" The words fell off your mouth against your will, the embarrassing situation making you nervous so your brain tried to defuse the situation by stating the opposite of what Klaus wanted. From your point of view, you totally missed the way Five's eyes lost their deadly rage, instead showing his pain at your words. He was quick to hide his feelings once more, but his siblings had enough time to acknowledge his true emotion.

Slapping Klaus behind the head, Allison got a hold of his shirt and pulled him away to let the two of you clear this out. Everyone knew you two were pinning each other when you were younger. Even when fighting the two apocalypses! It was clear as day for the rest of the family, however, it wasn't the case for the both of you.

The door slammed back in place once more making you jump and hiss in pain when your abdominal muscles contracted. In your field of vision, you noted that Five had tensed before closing his hands in tight fists and made his way to his desk, the only place in the room you couldn't see because of your incapacity to turn around.

You knew what you said must have hurt him, it clearly seemed like you had rejected him. Stupid defense method.

"Five?" No answer was given, his heavy breathing being the only sound resonating in the room. "I didn't mean that." A scoff fell off his lips.

"You think I'll believe that?" The venom in his voice told you just how much you had hurt him, squeezing your heart in shame.

"When you disappeared 15 years ago I developed a system to protect myself from new heartbreaks. It hurt way less to force myself to believe that my feelings for you were nonexistent than acknowledge them and continue living without you, Five." Water appeared in your eyes, pooled down your cheeks, and soaked your new shirt. "I was so used to deny my feelings that-" Your voice broke when a sob forced its way out of you.

Hands found your cheeks, drying the wet trails before pulling you into a firm chest. You managed to slip your hands around his waist and cried for as long as needed. The exhaustion of the last endless days caught up to you along with the fact that the subject of your love was very well alive and here to stay, fueling the flow of tears falling down your eyes.

"I really didn't mean it." You managed to croak out between sobs.

One of Five's hand went to your hair, stroking your head tenderly. "I know." Your grip onto his shirt tightened when a kiss landed on the top of your head.

Slowly, he pulled away to lay you back down onto his bed and snuggled to your side when your anxious eyes found his. One of his arms went under your head while the other took care to not accidentally touch the general area surrounding your wound when snaking around your waist to keep you as close to him as possible.

His body heat was very much welcome, you snuggled your way into the crook of his neck in search of comfort.

"Rest. I'll be there when you wake up." He whispered into your hair when his button-down crumpled in your hands.

You sighed, allowing yourself to relax in his embrace. "I love you Five." You had to get it out before you let yourself fall asleep for you were scared that later would be too late.

"I love you too." Delicate patterns were traced by his skilled fingers onto the bare skin of your waist making you shiver. Your heartbeat accelerated at his chuckle before stabilizing when you fell into a peaceful slumber.

#five hargreeves #five hargreeves x reader #number five #the boy #tua s1 #tua s2 #the umbrella academy #my fic #the swedes #fluff

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ultraintrovertedgryffindor · 3 years

Note

Can you please do a sequel to the Thomas piece you posted?? I would love to see more of their “rekindled” (idk if that’s the right word) relationship evolve. Thanks so much!!

So, uh...I know what the doctor ordered and all, but I kinda made it real angsty cause I have no idea how to write anything other than angst so...yeah...🤡

Sorry if this was all over the place🤦🏻‍♀️

~~~~~~~~~~

Looking back on the past several months, you wondered if there was anything you could've done differently.

Maybe, if you just kept to yourself, none of this would be happening.

You and Thomas tried your best to get everyone out of the Maze, you really did. You knew there would be casualties, but you never thought it would be Chuck...or Newt.

After your memories returned, you and Thomas did everything in your power to try and convince the Gladers that you weren't the bad guys. Of course, Gally didn't take too kindly to that news; and when Teresa came up in the Box, all hell broke loose.

You had no idea how you managed to get out of that situation, but thankfully you had more than just Thomas and Teresa on your side. You escaped the Maze. You escaped W.C.K.D. You saved Minho and countless other kids that were taken. Now...you were safe, as crazy as it sounds.

A part of you wished you never got your memories back. You wished you could've just stayed in the Glade with Chuck, Newt, Alby, Ben, or even Teresa. It was hard to not blame yourself, because you were to blame. Maybe none of this would've happened if you just stayed away from Thomas.

Sure, you harbored a bit of resentment. Not just at him though, the whole situation was fucked up, and you knew that, it wasn't fair to blame it all on one person.

Seeing so many of your friends die, in part, because of you, put a strain on your relationship with Thomas. It sucked, because you all were on the run for so long that you didn't even get a chance to spend quality time with him. All you had was your memories to keep you company, which is more than anyone else could say. Which, you guessed, made you lucky.

All these memories coming back to you in an instant, remembering how Thomas was then compared to who he is now, it took some getting used to. Before the Maze, you had a very specific idea of who Thomas was, who he was to you. He was your best friend. He was your partner. He was your soulmate. So why did you start to see things so differently?

It was subtle, at first, just little things you disagreed on from time to time. Like, how you both handled conflict. Then, when Gally became a problem, you had very different ideas on how to handle him. Ultimately, that problem came to a head quickly and you had no choice but to go along with Thomas' plan.

But after escaping the Maze, you two practically disagreed with everything. Granted, looking back, you wished you had agreed on certain things. You were ashamed of yourself for how you treated the Winston situation. When he got infected, you already came to the conclusion that he was just dead weight. Obviously, Thomas had an issue with that. You were never that close to the kid, neither was Thomas, but he was still dead set on dragging him across the desert. It was only when Winston tried to kill himself is when Thomas finally broke.

You apologized to Thomas that night, but he surprised you when he said he understood where you were coming from. He knew Winston would've make it, but he was too stubborn and scared to admit it to himself. That moment was the first time you kissed him since you had gotten your memories back, and Thomas kissed you back.

You always made a strong effort to see things Thomas' way, even if he didn't notice it. But your opinions were so strong sometimes, that you'd completely ignore the pit in your gut that told you that he'd never agree, even if you made a compelling argument. It was frustrating. You knew that some of your ideas were a bit lackluster, you came from a more inconspicuous, strategic approach when it came to plans, whereas Thomas was more guns blazing. But when it came to Minho's rescue mission, both of your views came in handy.

Even now, you wondered if you had went along with Thomas' plan of attack, would Teresa still be alive? Would Newt? Obviously, you had no way of knowing. But just the thought that maybe you might've been at fault made you shut down sometimes.

You had yet another argument with Thomas, and you just couldn't handle being around him anymore. It wasn't the smartest of plans, but you snuck out of camp and wandered into the forest away from the beach. Even in the heat of your rage, you were almost positive you could find your way back again, so you didn't worry. All you tried to focus on was steadying your heartbeat, but all you could do was take an unpleasant trip down memory lane.

It probably should've worried you that it was getting dark really quick. If you were still at camp, you could probably still see the sun going down. But the forest pretty much blocked out all light, even the moon just barely peaking through the trees. But you stayed, suspended a couple feet in the air, sitting on a sturdy tree branch.

Your wrist started to itch, the annoying stinging sensation forcing you out of your state of tranquility and back into the real world. You had to physically stop yourself from huffing, rolling your eyes when you realized that he was close by.

Ever since that day in the Maze, you could always sense Thomas' presence, the ink in your skin giving off a slight burning feeling whenever he was close by. It would start off dull, barely noticeable. The feeling would intensify the closer Thomas would be in proximity until it completely stopped.

"Y/n?"

"Go away." You quickly replied harshly, not even turning around to look at him.

"You need to come back to camp, it isn't safe out here."

"Oh, like it's any safer across the ocean." You sighed.

This was the hundredth disagreement, Thomas wanted to go back to the mainland. His hero complex finding it difficult to just stay in the Safe Haven while there may be other people in need of help. Teresa seemed to finally break him from beyond the grave. He wants to find a way to replicate the cure that she gave to him before she sacrificed herself.

You thought it was stupid. You kept thinking about everyone that has been hurt, everyone that was murdered, all their friends that were experimented on by W.C.K.D. in their hopes of finding a cure. Thomas held the cure in his hand, but it's always never enough. It's like he has to put himself in danger to find a purpose in life. You were almost sure that they was no purpose, just survive.

In the Glade, you had more hope, surprisingly. Without your memories, you woke up with a tiny bit of hope, hope that the world outside the Maze would be better. But then it wasn't. You remembered how shitty the world really was, it even made you miss the Glade. It was a cage, that's for certain, but it almost seemed like you were safer there.

Sure, you were safe now. But your experiences in the Maze combined with all your memories that you had to deal with, you changed, you and Thomas both. Sometimes, it didn't really feel like you were the same people before you lost your memories. Maybe that's why you two were at odds constantly, maybe you two weren't actually soulmates. Who knows what put those tattoos on your skin, it could've been W.C.K.D. for all you knew. It was a very disheartening thought.

"Come on, Y/n. This again, seriously?" Thomas scoffed. "I thought you of all people would understand why I need to do this. If we can replicate the cure, who knows what that could mean for us? For the whole world?"

You sighed, jumping down from the tree branch and standing to face him. "Thomas, I never said we shouldn't try to make more cures. I just think it's idiotic to try and go back to that hellscape."

"It's not that I want to, we don't have the proper tools here that can make it easier to remake the serum."

"Last time we were there, all those buildings were being blown up. Most likely, it's all rubble and ash by now. There wouldn't be anything left to salvage."

"But not impossible."

"Thomas..."

"It's not impossible. Those specific buildings might be gone now, but you know how many more W.C.K.D. facility's there are. We have those coordinates."

"Those buildings are probably overrun by Cranks."

"But there still might be equipment left, and that's enough for me. We owe it to Teresa to try."

You rolled your eyes. "We don't owe her anything, Thomas. She betrayed us all, remember?"

"She saved my life. Our life. Surely, you remember that." You didn't reply. "She was like a sister to you, Y/n. Those feelings aren't just something that goes away overnight."

"It's easier when you remember she always had an agenda to begin with." You snapped, but quickly felt guilty when you saw the tears in Thomas' eyes. Your gaze softened. "Replicating the cure isn't gonna bring her back...we have to move on."

"I know...I know it won't bring her back..." Thomas whispered, slowly sitting down on this forest floor.

You sighed, kneeling down beside him. "I admire that you...want to save the world. But you shouldn't go on a suicide mission because of one person who's not even alive anymore." You said as softly as possible, the chirps of insects around you almost drowning you out.

"You think this is just about Teresa?" Thomas quickly asked, furrowing his brows.

You shrugged. "I know how hard you took her death. And yeah, it's been hard for me too. I was just so angry at her that I didn't allow myself to mourn. But I honestly think that Teresa wouldn't want you to kill yourself over this cure just for her."

Thomas let out a bitter chuckle, shaking his head. "It was never just about her. I...I couldn't save Newt. He wasn't immune, and I am. And I could've saved him if I had just listened to Teresa. So many people on this island aren't immune. Including you...if there's even the slightest chance I could make more cures in order for you to be safe...it's more than enough for me. I can't lose you too."

"Thomas..."

"I can't lose you."

You shook your head, quickly grabbing onto Thomas' hands. "Hey," You said softly, "you're not going to lose me."

"How do you know?"

"Thomas, no one here has the virus. And we're so far away from the mainland...don't you think it would be affecting people already if it could reach us here?"

Thomas stayed silent, casting his gaze to the forest floor dejectedly.

You sat closer to him, resting your head on his shoulder, but still keeping your hands on his. "Thomas, I think the worst is over now. We don't have W.C.K.D. hanging over our heads, and we're not running for our lives anymore...we shouldn't have to worry about this kind of stuff anymore."

"Sometimes it's hard to believe that we don't have to run for our lives anymore..." Thomas whispered softly.

You frowned, leaning more into Thomas. "I know...I've been feeling the same way."

Thomas brought up your wrist, kissing his tattooed name gently. "I'm sorry. I hate arguing with you."

You smiled weakly. "It's okay. I'm sorry too."

"I remember you telling me that my stubbornness will get me killed someday." He chuckled, then sighed. "You weren't wrong. I know I'm stubborn."

"Hey, it's not just you. I know I'm stubborn too."

"We make such a good pair, don't we?" He joked.

The thought about the origins of your tattoos came back into your mind, causing you to frown slightly. "Do you ever think about our tattoos?" You asked hesitantly. "Like, about how they got there in the first place?"

Thomas inhaled deeply. "Yeah. I have."

"Do you think W.C.K.D. is the one who put these here?" You asked, rubbing your thumb over Thomas' tattoo.

"I don't know...maybe. But even if they did, it doesn't matter to me. I love you, and that'll never change."

You looked up at Thomas, seeing that he was already looking at you with a small smile. You felt your face heat up when he moved a strand of your hair out of your face, his fingers lingering on your cheek. "Thomas...?"

"Hmm?"

You leaned in and placing your lips against his gently. "I love you too."

~~~~~~~~~~

yes, i'm aware this was a bit of a mess lmao. hope you enjoyed regardless

#the maze runner #the maze runner imagine #tmr thomas #thomas x reader

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yelenabelovq · 3 years

Text

give you peace | s.r.

summary: Days on the road are long and overstretched and everyone seems better at dealing with it than you. You are even worse at dealing with it when you’re forced to share a bed with the self-appointed Captain.

playlist: give you peace | s.r.

word count: 3.4k

rating: 18+

a/n: i have literally been working on this fic for, like, over a month okay. i had decided that no one knew how to do a true theres-only-one-bed fic so i decided to write my own and then idk what happened like god took it into her hands at that point and this is the result so like don’t blame me blame god

“I would take a bunch of rolled-up newspapers and a blanket at this point,” Sam said from beside you.

You lift your head from where it rested on the table between your arms, peering at him through lidded eyes. “A bed is a bed, Samuel.”

“Yeah, and it’s the first one we’ll have in months,” he said. “If Steve can ever get the damn key cards.”

“I, for one, don’t know why we didn’t think of having Nat hack the security cameras earlier,” you remarked, fidgeting with the strap of your one duffle bag you could keep that you’d looped around your ankle. Can’t be too careful. “Who’s really worried about a few misdemeanors when you’re on the run from the highest levels of the US government?”

“Amen,” said Sam.

“I’ll second that one,” Natasha said, stretching out beside you, feline in her office chair. The laptop was set in front of her, inconspicuous enough that it just looked like she was getting some work done before checking in. God, technology was truly great.

Steve returned a second later, holding a handful of cards and a goodie bag from the front desk. Robbing big chain hotels of their rooms and amenities was honestly your best idea yet. You wish you’d thought of it sooner. Being on the run was exhausting, and half-star motels that conveniently didn’t already have security cameras was even more exhausting and incredibly less safe. Peace was hard to come by when you were tracking down the worst of the worst, and safety was even harder. Caffeine and near-tear exhaustion has brought you the idea of simply hacking the system at a Marriott Inn. Genius, Genius, Genius.

“Alright,” Steve said. “Cameras down, yet?”

Nat took a second before closing the laptop and responding, “They’ll loop for 24 hours. Should be enough time for us to rest up and make it out of here.”

“Two rooms,” Steve said, throwing down two packs of key cards.

“Ugh, my own bed,” you sighed.

“We’ll share,” Natasha said, motioning between her and Sam.

“Hey, wait,” you said, picking up your gaze to Nat, who honest-to-god looked like the expression “the cat that got the cream.”

“Your own bed, right?” Nat said, leveling her gaze with your own.

You tipped your head back to look at Steve, who was standing over you. “Guess we’re bunking together.”

The Jack & Jill door between the two rooms was quickly unlocked and you tossed your duffle onto the counter of the vanity before turning to face the rest of the room. Bed, bed, bed, bed, bed, panted like a mantra in your mind as the bone-deep feeling of exhaustion settled into you. Sheets and a duvet and the cold side of a pillow sounded like a winning lottery ticket right about now.

You looked around the small room, just the bed with an adjoining bathroom and exposed vanity, a mini-fridge and coffee maker next to the TV and—

Bed. Bed as in singular.

Your head snapped to look at Steve.

“There’s only one bed,” he remarked helpfully.

“You’re kidding,” you insisted, the evidence glaringly obvious. Maybe if you whined loud enough it would magically become two.

“Is there only one in their room? Maybe we can switch—” Your hand went for the door, only to find it locked. You jiggled the door, kicking it once, then leaning your head against it in defeat. “Whores,” you hissed.

“That should be unlocked—”

“You know why it isn’t.” You turned back to the room, defeat settling in your bones. It’s not that you and Steve had never not not gotten along, it’s just that two iron-willed people who are incessant about being right don’t tend to last in a room together without some… light bickering.

Steve went for the phone and brought it to his ear for only a moment before shoving it back onto the receiver. “Nat disabled the line,” he sighed.

“So, there’s only one bed,” you observed, just as helpfully as he had.

“I’ll take the floor,” Steve said.

“No, I’m not gonna make you do that. I can—”

“You’re not sleeping on the floor.”

Your folded your arms across your chest defiantly. “And why’s that?”

“You’re exhausted.”

“So are you.”

“I can handle the floor for one night—”

“Well, so could I.”

“Well, why don’t we both take the goddamned floor, then?”

“Why don’t we both take the fucking bed, then?” You yanked back the covers on one side.

“Fine.” Steve’s eyes met yours across the bed. The only one in the room. Iron will alright.

It was Steve that broke first, much to your satisfaction of having won two stand-offs with him.

“I’m going to take a shower.”

“Have fun,” you quipped over your shoulder ad you flopped down on the mattress, grabbing the remote from the side table. This was fine. This would be fine.

A bed is a bed, right?

Steve was in the shower for a bit longer than you’d expected, considering how fast he usually took. Memories of standing in a steam filled bathroom where he was in and out before you’d even wrangled your hair into something presentable came back to you, watching him through a fogged mirror as he walked out with a towel slung low over his hips.

Much like he had when he emerged as you were just barely dozing off to the Lifetime movie on the screen. You swung your legs over the edge and willed your feet to remember how to carry you to the en suite. You passed him by, shoulder brushing his as your gaze caught the water droplets still shimmering on this skin.

You took a bit longer in the shower than usual we well.

When you emerged, hair dry enough that you didn’t have to worry about waking up to a soaked pillow, and in as presentable as a night outfit as you could get for New Mexico in the middle of August, it was dark in the rest of the room. You eased your way out to the bed, noting that Steve seemed to be already a sleep, a pillow laid longways in the middle of the bed. You rolled your eyes before setting the burner phone you had to charge. You climbed into bed gingerly, acutely aware of the body on the other side of the queen-sized mattress. A queen should be plenty big for two people, but Steve was the size of two people himself and slept on his back, one arm thrown behind his head, and the other four remaining pillows (cause, y’know, men are too manly to sleep with pillows) cast to your side. Long story short, it didn’t leave you much room.

This was it, this was the catch, you thought. No pillow nest to bury yourself in. So much for your own damn bed.

You slipped into the covers, arranging the pillows around yourself in your best attempt of a pillow nest with only one-third of a queen mattress to work with (you mourned the loss of the single pillow you had to toss on the floor) and closed your eyes.

And then sleep didn’t come.

So you opened your eyes and shuffled the pillows a bit again, then laid down, and shut your eyes.

And then sleep didn’t come.

Sighing, you shifted again, fluffing the pillow you hugged to your chest with an annoyed hand and—

“Could you stop moving?” cut a voice through the dark.

You send Steve a glare that definitely didn’t land through the pitch black. “You’re taking up the entire bed, it’s kind of hard to get comfortable.”

Steve sighed, then shifted into a sitting position. You heard his feet hit the ground.

“I told you you’re not sleeping on the floor.”

“We clearly can’t share the bed.”

“We clearly can, actually, if you just scoot over.”

“I don’t really think that would fix the problem.”

“Do you have to argue with everything I say?”

He inhaled sharply, but didn’t say anything.

“Just lay back down and go to sleep.”

You felt the mattress shift again. You rolled over and squeezed your eyes shut, willing your body not to move again.

You woke up to warmth.

Wasn’t New Mexico the desert? Didn’t the desert get cold at night? Why were you so warm right now? How long did you sleep for, then—

Moving was weird. Yeah, that’s really weird, cause you were caught on something. And what was on your stomach?

Steve. Steve was. You were warm because Steve’s breath was hitting your collar bone and you were pressed against his body and his hand was splayed over your bare stomach.

You had a vague memory of a pillow hitting the floor last night. Then another shuffling stand-off. Then—

Steve was holding you in his arms. Steve was holding you while he slept.

You tried your hardest to move without actually moving, a task that quickly proved difficult. If you could just turn over—

The hands on your stomach turned into an arm tightening around you.

There was no possible way to get out of this and save your pride. You couldn’t do it without waking him up and—

Hold on. Why were you embarrassed? He was the one holding you like a child and a teddy bear. He was the one not letting go. Yeah, this was something you could give him shit for.

“Steve,” you said, sleep tugging on the edges of your voice. “Steve, let go.” You tried a little more openly to wiggle your way out of his grip.

“Huh-uh,” he grunted, only succeeding in further trapping you. “Y’r warm.”

Well, so was he.

As the tired still crowded your mind, you took a deep breath and only succeeded in relaxing yourself further into his grip. You tried half-heartedly to wiggle your way out but, wow, his skin is soft. You didn’t really notice falling back asleep. The absence of your consciousness was a relief.

But when you woke again, it was to the smell of coffee and a cold bed.

You blinked blearily into the morning, gaze flitting across the room before landing on Steve’s figure leaning against the vanity.

“Morning,” he said thickly. He sounded like he couldn’t have been awake that early, and yet he’d been up long enough for his side of the bed to go cold.

"G'mornin'." You stretched out in an attempt to rid yourself of sleep and gave a small moan. Steve tossed his gaze over his shoulder but kept his body faced towards the vanity as he let the coffee drip into the single-use cups.

"Sleep well?" he asked, still not turning to face you.

"Did you?"

You watched his shoulders tense for a split second before he does, finally, turn to you, coffee in hand. He crosses the space between you in a step and a half and extends the cup to you.

You, of course, reach for it and, of course, do so too fast and knock the cup into your lap. Steve sputtered an apology for a moment before reaching to rip the covers off your legs. He twisted to grab a towel from the vanity and began patting down your thighs. In the frantic blur of it, you realized Steve was currently working his way up your inner thigh with a towel that was attached to his hand and you were barely awake.

"Steve," you said. He didn't stop his pursuit up your thigh and was now currently, just about, hovering over you.

"Steve," you repeated, stilling his hand on the inside of your thigh, and finally met his eye, noting as his eyes flit between yours and your lips.

"Sorry," he said, not making an attempt to move.

"S'okay," you mumbled, butterflies taking flight in your stomach and landing on every inch of your skin.

"Are you okay?" His breath was tickling your nose by now.

"You're not moving away." Your heart was hammering out of your chest by now, and you were pretty sure he could hear it. (Super soldier hearing? Is that a thing?)

"I..." The only sound was your mingling breathing for a moment. "I don't want to."

"Okay."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

His lips were feather-light on yours at first, soft and lingering. Maybe that's why his teeth on your lip made you yelp, and maybe that was why Steve groaned into your mouth before hooking an arm under your knee and hoisting you up the bed, settling his hips between your legs.

You tangled your fingers in his hair, eliciting soft moans from him as your nails scraped his scalp, so you did it again. His lips moved over your skin, down your jaw and neck, leaving a trail of wet kisses as he moved his hands over your waist. You watched as his head moved down your chest, a hand coming to rest over the strap of your tank top. He toyed with it for a moment, his other hand slowly inching the hem to expose your stomach.

Cerulean eyes met yours. "Okay?"

You nodded vehemently.

His hands lit firecrackers on your skin as he pushed up your tank, his mouth immediately attaching itself to your exposed breast. Your breath hitched in your chest, hands clawing at his shirt in a desperate attempt to undress him.

His shirt and your shorts were quickly discarded onto the floor next to your tank as your fumbling hands reached to his waistband with the intent for them to join the growing pile on the floor. A gentle hand came to cover your wrist, and you opened your eyes to see Steve kissing farther down your sternum, your stomach, your hips.

His breath was hot on your exposed core. Tiny kisses were placed on the inside of both your thighs, like matches being lit in the dark. You were covered in him all of a sudden, covered, covered, covered in his breath, in his skin, in his existence. And when he buried his nose in your folds, you wondered if he was covered in you as well.

His lips sang against your most sensitive area, pushing a finger or two inside you and then slowly curling until your back arched off the coffee-stained sheets. You were breathless, enthralled in every sensation Steve was able to seep from your body. His name fell off your lips in a series of pleas that you were, at present, woefully unable to distinguish. All you know is that it spurred him on, if his own moans were anything to go by.

Release quickly closed in on every inch of you, a glass being filled until it finally, finally tipped over and spread over every inch of you until you were writhing against his face.

Kisses were once again being placed all over your body, until Steve’s nose nudged you and his mouth found yours once again.

“You taste like honey,” he whispered into your mouth.

You whimpered against his lips, hands grasping at his neck, his hair, his waist.

“Okay?” he asked, his own hand moving towards the waistband of his sweats.

“Yes,” you breathed. “Yes, yes, oh my god, yes.”

His hips rolled against you, a trembling wave breaking as you felt his head push into you. It knocked the air from your lungs, his arm snaking around your waist to hold you close to him. You wrapped your arms around his neck and burrows your face in his shoulder as he set up a relentless pace, pounding into you with everything he could. You were flooded with ecstasy before finally cresting, a kaleidoscope shattering inside of you before the pieces fell and covered you. Through your high, you felt Steve’s hips sputter against yours before spilling into your core.

There was nothing but your shared breaths for a moment, your head still buried in his shoulder. He relaxed you into the pillows, his lips finding a path over your cheekbone. He eased out of you, grabbing another towel to clean between your thighs. He laid back down next to you, gathering you into his arms until you were laid over his chest.

“This okay?” he asked, his voice as gravelly as you’d heard it that morning.

“Yes,” you sighed, tracing a finger over his skin. You shifted to gaze up at him, silently memorizing every line and dip of his face.

“Why had we never crossed that line before?”

You thought for a moment, his question taking you a little off guard in your still-tired, post-orgasmic state. It was a line you’d crossed. That line you’d been tiptoeing with looks cast the other’s way that always lasted a little too long, and comments that could have way too easily been taken out of context. That line that Nat and Sam had found each other crossing in an attempt to soften the sting of being on the run. That line that stopped you from finding comfort in one another, when the nights stretched on and on and people seemed like the worst type of creature in the universe.

“You’re a stubborn asshole.”

He laughed heartily. “I’m the stubborn one?”

“For now.”

So you let yourself relax into him, savoring the touch of skin on skin. Of your breathing synchronizing. Of high-thread-count sheets kissing your skin just like Steve had, like Steve still was doing, punctuating each one with the giggle he drew from you.

He sighed for a moment before locking his eyes with yours.

"I don't know if I can-"

"Steve," you stopped him. "It's not about that."

You knew where he was going with it. How he would say some chivalrous shit about not being able to provide you with what you needed. It was true, though. It wasn't about that. Not when each night could be the last, and not when a larger fight loomed just around the corner. You knew you could both feel it. When you'd find Steve pulling out his burner and taking a quick glance at it, expression unreadable when he'd discover there were no new alerts and he'd shove it back into his pocket. Not when you felt sometimes like everyone had something to fight for, except you.

"I don't need anything but this," you whispered onto his skin, willing the words to tattoo there so just maybe America's Golden Boy would understand that he alone is enough.

"I can't give you the peaceful life you want."

"I never said I wanted that."

"But I know you think about it."

What, is he a mind reader?

"It's okay. I think I want it sometimes too. But-"

"But then you pull that phone out hoping time and time again it will ring."

You felt his chest lift with a sigh.

"It's okay, Steve," you said softly. His gaze wavered against yours. "This is okay. For now, this is what I need."

"This?"

"You."

Everyone coped in different ways. Natasha dyed her hair like the little sister she’d told you about one night after a bit too much to drink and a sappy feeling in the air. Sam had a stash of letters he was writing for his nephew who’d just been born. You saw him putting them away one time and asked him about it, and he told you about his home on a vibrant coast with his sister who he loved the most in the world, until she had his nephews, that is.

You’d spent the last year collecting postcards. It wasn’t much, but they were easily transportable. You marked each one with a date and a memory. The time in Nebraska when Sam had to try and flirt his way into the back room of a bar, but he just ended up with a scratch on his face from the ring the woman wore when she slapped him. Or when Natasha fell off a dock in New Zealand and took you with her, and you both ended up spending an hour swimming in the other side of the Pacific Ocean. Or when you were in Venice chasing down a dead lead and you looked at Steve in the setting sun and suddenly your heart felt like it might explode and jump out of your chest. You’d felt tangibly dizzy. You hadn’t shown anyone that one.

But you could stay here, like this, in Steve’s arms, an ear pressed against his chest, listening to his heartbeat lull you to sleep. And when everything else feels cold, when you feel like the world is turning its back on you, you can find peace in your friends, and in the arms of someone who makes you feel safe.

#pls enjoy whatever the inside of my mind looks like bc this is it #steve rogers x reader #captain america #steve rogers #marvel #marvel fanfiction #steve rogers fanfiction #emmmaswrites #18+ fic #mcu fanfiction

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greenteaandtattoos · 3 years

Text

Sunsets and Stitches: A Forest Fire Siblings One-Shot

“Hey, Oscar!”

The hazel-eyed boy looked up as his name was called. He had been washing some dishes after the rations for the refugees had gone out. He recognized the voice. He spotted a blonde-bushy-haired girl striding over to where he stood. It was Yang. Even though it had been nearly a week since team RWBY - and Jaune - had returned to Remnant and reunited with everyone in Vacuo, Oscar couldn’t help the stab of relief in his chest at the sight of her.

Sometimes, he woke up in the morning in a panic, fear that their heart-felt reunion had been only a dream. Especially when it came to a certain red-clad girl… The feeling of Ruby’s arms around him, embracing him tightly, was a feeling so foreign yet so unforgettable at the same time.

“Oscar.” Oscar let out a small huff as a voice reverberated in his head, pulling him from the memory. Ozpin had been interrupting his thoughts and daydreams about Ruby every chance he got, scolding him about getting distracted in a time of war.

“Hey, Yang,” Oscar greeted, turning his attention to her as she approached. “What can I do for you?” Yang towered over him by a few feet, her wavy hair pulled up into a ponytail and cascading down her back like a field of wheat in the wind, glowing gold in the setting sun’s light. Her lavender eyes were unusually neutral, a change from the usual fiery determination that blazed in them. Oscar frowned and even Ozpin noticed something was amiss with his former student, concern pulsing from the wizard.

“It seems like you have a problem,” she informed him knowingly. Oscar felt his face redden and anxiety wormed its way into his stomach. Did she know? Yang was Ruby’s older sister, and was very protective of her. If she found out about his crush on her baby sister… He gulped.

Oz agreed, it might not turn out well. Especially with Yang’s very… vocal feelings towards him. She had forgiven him for hiding his secrets and then abandoning them, but she was still wary of the ages-old wizard, and she wasn’t the best at keeping her emotions to herself.

Yang raised a hand, and Oscar automatically tensed. However, her hand came to rest gently atop his head. Mischief glinted in her eyes, and a smile spread across her face.

“Your hair is a mess!” she exclaimed, ruffling his thick chocolate locks. “Have you ever grown out your hair before?” Oscar blinked, allowing himself to process what was going on, then let out an audible breath of relief. Ozpin hummed in amusement.

He played off his breath with a laugh. “No, never.” He raised a hand and ran it through his hair. He had decided to try and grow out his hair once they had gotten to Vacuo. Ren and Nora had supported his idea, the former giving tips on how to wash it and brush it to keep it from getting tangled. He hadn’t been doing so well, though. The wind blew sand into it on a daily basis and the sun dried it out, bleaching it to a pale brown.

Yang pulled her hand away and jabbed a thumb at her hair. “Well, lucky for you, I have. C’mon, let’s do something about this travesty.” She began to lead the way into the cool shade of the dorms, where they had all been staying. Once she had gotten Oscar comfy in a chair, she began to ruffle through some drawers and duffle bags.

He watched curiously as she pulled out a brush, some hair ties, and some other hair products. “I feel the need to warn you,” Ozpin started, his voice light with amusement, “That Ms. Xiao Long takes hair care very seriously.” Oscar smiled nervously as the said huntress dropped everything onto the desk in front of him and began arranging them.

“What does that mean?” Oscar inquired. “It means that you should probably do exactly what she tells you to in regards to your hair,” was his reply.

“Alright, kiddo,” Yang said, stretching her arms above her head and cracking her fingers. “Let’s get this mess fixed.”

Luckily, there was a mirror in front of him, so he watched anxiously as she picked up a hair brush and began to brush it through his locks. To his surprise, she was very gentle, starting at the ends, brushing through them with practiced expertise. He hissed lightly as the bristles came into contact with a particularly stubborn knot.

“Sorry,” she grunted. “The desert has really done a number to your hair.” Oscar scratched at one hand. “I should probably have asked for some hair tips before now, huh” he joked. Yang snorted. “I think we were all worried about more... pressing issues back then.”

Oscar instinctively raised his hand to run it through his hair - a habit he did whenever he was nervous or embarrassed - only for Ozpin’s warning to come too late and he felt the sting as Yang slapped his hand down.

“Ow!” he yelped quietly. “Hands down!” Yang barked. “Do you want this to be as painless as I can make it, or not?” Oscar rubbed his hand. “Sorry, mom,” he apologized dryly. Yang hmphed and continued with her work, her mouth twisting in concentration.

“It might be best to just rest your hands,” Ozpin suggested. “Easy for you to say,” Oscar grumbled internally. Oscar’s uncomfortableness with physical contact was well-known to the others, and he appreciated Yang’s slow strokes and gentle hold, no doubt to try and put him at ease. However, he often struggled to keep himself still, finding too much energy within himself. Holding Long Memory helped calm him, but he didn’t have it with him now. He was trapped between a desk and a dragon.

He elected to rest one hand on the desk, listlessly playing with the cracks in the wood, and dropped one hand to his shirt. He rubbed his thumb on the embroidered rose that he had asked Coco to stitch onto the hem. He traced the soft curve of the petals and the long stem as Yang worked.

Yang’s eyes glanced down to where his hand had fallen, her gaze zeroing in on the rose. Her lips thinned. “I don’t think I’ve gotten to tell you that I like your outfit yet,” she said, uncharacteristically cool and controlled.

Oh, shit, Oscar thought. Ozpin agreed, though chided him for his language as he did. “It seems Ms. Xiao-Long has exercised her powers of observation,” he commented. “This might not end well.”

“Uh, thanks,” Oscar said nervously. Ozpin’s comments did not help. “Coco made it.”

The upperclassman had offered to make Emerald, Ren, Nora, and him new clothes. He remembered going up to her in private and asking for the rose, his stomach as knotty as his hair. She had agreed, and even with her sunglasses keeping her expression hidden from him, he had heard the pity in her voice and the burn of her stare on his back as he left the room.

“It suits you.” Yang’s complement dragged his attention back to the present. There was a curtness in her voice that made Oscar want to squirm. He began to trace the cracks in the wooden desk with anxious speed. “Yang, I—”

She paused, lifting the brush ever so slightly from his head. “How far along is the merge?” Yang asked suddenly. Oscar’s head drooped slightly. “Far enough,” he said. Yang was silent for a moment, then, “I see.”

Oscar squirmed in his seat in the awkward silence, and Yang placed a hand on his shoulder to still him. “But I’m still me,” he burst out. “I promised that I would do as much good as I could with the time I had left, and I meant it.” Yang’s grip on his shoulder tightened, but not enough to hurt. “And how much good will you do to my sister when you’re gone and Oz is all that is left?” she asked. “Will it be good when you’ve gone and left her with a broken heart?” Oscar wilted. She knew.

“It is for this reason that I told you to find a way to dispel your crush,” Oz pointed out, backing Yang’s argument. Oscar felt anger bubble up in his chest. “No, you told me to forget it because it made you feel awkward,” Oscar retorted. “Perhaps, but—”

Yang, who had seemingly been waiting for an answer, realized that he was conversing with Ozpin and resumed brushing, which interrupted the two as Oscar jerked his focus back to her. Right now, it was more important that he make her understand, rather than Ozpin. He had argued with over this topic many times before with him, and it always ended the same.

“Yang, I would never hurt Ruby,” he promised, putting as much sincerity in his voice as he could. “I-I really…” He paused, then took a deep breath, remembering Coco’s and Nora’s advice. “Go slow, but be honest and forthright,” they had said. So, that’s what he would do.

“I care about her,” he admitted, finally sharing his secret. “I would never do anything to hurt her.” He felt the bristles of the brush prick at his scalp. “I know,” Yang said, the bite in her voice softening. “But you don’t really have a choice. Eventually, you will merge with Oz and—”

“Oz doesn’t have anything to do with this!” Oscar burst out. Yang froze, eyes wide. “I’m the one who cares about Ruby, not Oz,” he continued forcefully. “I’ve cut my life short for him, for the world, but I deserve to be able to do something for myself while I still have the chance… don’t I?” Yang stared at him with narrowed eyes, the brush frozen amidst chocolate tangles. She seemed to contemplate his words.

“But does my sister deserve to be left broken when the inevitable finally occurs?” she finally asked after a moment. Oscar closed his eyes, and ignored Ozpin’s attempts to give his input on the matter.

“Ruby deserves happiness and peace,” he said. He crossed his hands and rested them against his heart. Even months after the torture, the area where Salem had struck him with her magic was still sensitive to the touch. “I just want to help her achieve that.”

Even with his eyes closed, he could feel Yang watching him intently through the mirror. “You and me both, kid,” Yang said. “That’s all our mom wanted for us.” Oscar’s eyes shot open at the mention of their mother, Summer Rose. Ozpin went silent at the mention of his former silver-eyed student. Blake had shared the secret of the Hound with the others after they reunited at Schnee Manor back at Atlas, and Ozpin had realized fairly quickly what happened to his former pupil.

Yang let out a small breath. “Since we seem to be spilling secrets today, I might as well share one.” Oscar turned his head to glance at her curiously, only for her hand to stop it and move it back to where it was. She began brushing his hair again.

“I can’t tell you for sure why our mother left to face Salem like she did,” she started, her voice twisting with emotion. “But, I can give you my best guess.” Oscar felt Ozpin stiffen. “It was because of Ruby.” Oscar had a feeling that was going to be the answer, but he stayed silent, allowing Yang to continue. This was her secret to share.

“Back then, Salem was still hunting down and killing silver-eyed warriors, not… what she’s doing with them now. I think… I think mom got scared because Ruby was born with silver eyes, and knew that Salem would eventually come for her.”

Ozpin remained silent, but Oscar could feel him emanating complex emotions, mixing with his own. Oscar couldn’t imagine how he was feeling, knowing that his former student had been subjected to a fate worse than death at the hands of Salem, and he hadn’t been able to do anything.

“And so, she decided to strike first, to try to get rid of the danger to her family. But whatever her plan was, it fell through and she…” she trailed off.

Sympathy surged through Oscar, and finally got a good understanding as to why Yang was so adamant with her feelings toward Oscar’s crush on Ruby. She doesn’t want Ruby to feel the pain of a loved one disappearing again.

Talking wasn’t his strongest suit, but he would be damned if he didn’t find a way to express himself to Yang. “Oscar, wait,” Ozpin warned. “This isn’t a good idea.” Oscar took a deep breath. “You’re wrong,” he told the wizard firmly. “This may not seem like a good idea to you, but it’s what’s best for me.”

He met her gaze through the mirror. Her eyes glistened, though there were no tears.

“I understand that you want to protect Ruby from experiencing such pain ever again. But so do I,” he told her, conviction strong in his voice. “I promise you, merge or not, I will help protect her. But, she isn’t some helpless girl, either. She knows that the merge will happen.” He paused, thinking back to her . “But she has never seen me as Ozpin,” he continued. “She chose to be my friend, despite my circumstances, just as I chose to remain by her side.”

Yang quirked a brow at his response, and for a moment, Oscar feared that he angered her. Then, she burst out laughing. “Stay friends with you, eh?” Oscar frowned, confused by her reaction. “What, you don’t think we should even be friends?” Anxiety and anger fluttered in his chest. Wanting to protect Ruby from heartbreak by keeping him from admitting his feelings towards her was one thing, but to disapprove of her friendship with him entirely?

Yang coughed, her laughter dying down. “No, no. If only you two would remain just friends.” She put the brush down on the desk and picked up a hair tie, bright gold in color. “But, you have a point. Your life is your own, and my sister isn’t a baby anymore, not like she was when mom disappeared. Each of you can make your own choices.”

Though pleased that Yang’s disapproval had lessened somewhat, her words still confused him. “Why did you laugh at the notion that she wants to stay friends with me?” he inquired. “Oh, Oscar,” Ozpin sighed. “And here I thought Ms. Rose was the clueless one when it came to people.” Oscar’s brow furrowed. “Hey,” he scoffed indignantly.

Suddenly, Yang took a handful of his hair, gripping it hard enough that he yelped. “Really, Oscar,” she said. “Who knew that the one person you misjudge is the one person you like?” Oscar blinked at the connotations. “I-I misjudged that she wants to be friends with me? Has she said something? Does she not want to be friends with me anymore?” He began to fret. Had he done something? Said something? Was he too similar to Ozpin?

Yang pulled and bunched up his hair into a loose ponytail. “You said it yourself,” she said. “She can make her own choices. Why don’t you ask her?” As Oscar fretted to himself, she slipped the ponytail around the base of the ponytail, then wrapped it around his hair three times, until it stood up on its own. Yang stepped back. “All done!”

Momentarily distracted from his worries, Oscar instantly reached back to feel it. It was a small ponytail, but it held firm. He checked it out in the mirror. The golden hair tie stood out stark against his dark hair. It seemed to blaze as rays of sunlight struck it, like a ring of golden fire, from where they filtered through the window to his right as the sun sank further below the dunes. “Not a bad look for you,” Ozpin commented.

Oscar turned to Yang. “Thanks… for everything.” Yang put a hand on her hips, a grateful smile on her face. “No problem. I think we both needed it.” Oscar nodded. A relief had lifted from his chest, though worry over Ruby’s thoughts on their friendship still bubbled in his stomach.

Yang seemed to notice and patted his shoulder. “Hey, how I feel about your feelings toward my sister doesn’t mean anything, in the long run. As you said, she can make her own choices. If you want to know how she feels, ask her.” Oscar put his hands to his chest, clutching his vest, feeling the cloth rub against the tender, patched skin underneath, and looked out the window. The sun-baked sand turned tawny under the ember-glow of sunset, the desert sky clear and endless.

He turned back to her. “I think I will.” Yang’s body language still told him that she was worried about the situation and the potential consequences, but the familiar lavender fire had returned in her eyes. “That’s the spirit, pipsqueak. You do what feels right to you.” She patted his head again.

Ozpin sighed. “I really don’t think this is a good idea, but I have my doubts that you’ll heed my advice on this matter anymore.” Oscar puffed out his chest. “I can’t ignore that you’re a part of me,” he replied. “But for now, my life is what is ahead of me.”

#rwby #Oscar Pine #yang xiao long #forest fire siblings #rosegarden #ozpin #rwby one-shot #yang being overprotective #remember that exciting thing I had planned?#this is it #enjoy #i worked really hard on it #ruby rose

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sambergscott · 3 years

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notes from the palm springs commentary !! 🏝

i know not everyone has access to hulu and i know i'd be gutted if i couldn’t watch it too so bc i'm lucky enough to have an american friend who let me use her hulu account i thought i'd share the commentary with you all on here <3

- their first bit of commentary is “there’s a title” (cristin) and “there’s a goat” (andy)... 10/10 anaylsis thanks guys

- andy joked that they talked about waiting for an earthquake but decided they didn’t have the budget to wait that long (he said the glowing lights at the end were real tho 🙄)

- andy: “we’re gonna start off pretty racy” djfdjfkdjgh

- “for all those kids out there, the b99 fans, you probably don’t wanna watch this”.... but andy,, we absolutely Do

- andy was cristin’s least favourite person in the movie

- nyles spread eagle on the bed was in the script not an acting choice

- according to andy there were 700,000 bugs just hatched where they filmed the wedding scenes that they had to edit out in post (also it was suuuuuper cold and cristin was shivering)

- ANDY CALLED HIMSELF A BUTT UGLY WEIRDO. NO SIR. U ARE THE FURTHEST THING FROM THAT.

- the dance move when he clapped his hands over his head “lightly hurt his schlong”

- they had 20-30 options for orchid explosion by fournier, cristin pitched some too that she “does not remember!” (she said that very cute)

- they talk about how great june squibb is and how andy is impressed that she wasn’t complaining about the cold/shooting at 5am/the fact that they improved a lil bit. “she doesn’t not give a what”

- during the make out scene on the rock cristin goes “ohhh ~spicy~”

- they also had to have a snake wrangler come out before they shot that scene and he was like “uhh i think it’s good?”

- andy was excited about having to get shot by an arrow when he was reading the script (it was also the moment they realised this movie was zanier than first thought)

- the cave was the same place they shot the old batman movies

- they started working on palm springs on november 9th 2016…. hence the wedding date

- cristin said they did about 30 takes (at least) of her opening her eyes/sitting up.. basically the entire first half of the first day shooting she spent doing the same thing

- “i just think you’re the coolest cristin, way to go man!” “you too andy!”

- the beer is fictional and has a meaning behind it.. the tortoise is to do with a myth about the universe or smth

- andy wants someone to make the beer fr

- “so here is cristin in the desert pretending to be hot” “he means physically” “TEMPERATURE HOT… i have no opinions on her appearance”

- they wanted to skip past the set-up-y parts to avoid it being too groundhog day and add diff dynamics and comedic elements that come from that

- according to andy, nyles has been in the loop an “insanely long time” (cristin and andy like that you don’t know the exact number of years bc however many years it’s been nothing has changed for nyles)

- cristin’s fondest memories were spending days in that dusty ass car together (i too would like to be that girl in his car)

- “i like your hat” “of course you do” was improved by andy and jk

- andy said jk is a “national treash”

- andy loved shooting the montage w jk (and he thinks that montage + the scene at the end is why jk signed up to do ps)

- “i went full butt” - andy samberg, 2021

- HE HAS A STUNT DOUBLE CALLED SETH WHO HAS A SIGNIFICANTLY BETTER BUTT THAN HIM (but andy’s butt was funnier so they went with his)

- the very last shot of the movie was nyles getting the handjob in the car

- max or other andy i can’t remember who talked for a while about how talented our andy is. can’t wait for that oscar nom!!!!!

- if andy were in a time loop he’d try to catch up on shows for a few years (and then try and leave)

- cristin is horrified that he’d choose to watch all of MASH to get him through a time loop

- cristin LOVED filming all the deaths

- andy said that their dance scene in the denim jacket replaces every iconic dance scene ever like fame/dirty dancing/etc etc and he’s right

- he dropped her in that scene bc his arms are “weak and floppy like a baby calf”

- the tattoo moment was the only fully improved scene

- they REALLY wanted it in the movie

- cristin insisted on the hook hand and eye patch and they obliged and she said she kept the hook hand and put it on her mantle and andy was like “prove it prove it prove it prove it prooooooove it”

- she did Indeed prove it

- orange in the movie significies intimacy and that whole montage is coloured orange to show them falling in love

- they loved shooting the tent scene

- the first night they filmed it there was a sandstorm and rain and they had to hide under a tarp and they came back the next night and they were able to get looser with it bc it was the last day of shooting and they’d basically done the whole thing the night before

- the dinosaurs bit was a “symbolic moment between the characters - they are 2 people who don’t believe they can be loved so they’re feeling something impossible and therefore they should see something impossible”

- the wake-ups were like an acting exercise in a way bc each wake up was diff emotionally based on where they were in the loop

- nyles finally cares about something (her) for the first time in maybe hundreds of years and he immediately gets slapped down :(((

- “suck my dick officer bitch” was cristin’s ad lib!!! (if anyone makes a montage of her life’s work she would like it to either begin or end w suck my dick officer bitch, andy said why not both)

- “for some reason i rolled up one of my sleeves [after nyles woke up after their fight] and then we couldn’t get out of it so that was a lesson! it was a terrible choice”

- andy loves the overhead pool shot

- everytime andy watches the confrontation at the wedding he feels terrible for tala, we love an empathetic king

- re: roy’s arc andy talks about how important it is to relish what you’ve got and it was v v v v sweet

- everyone laughed so hard in the arrow/garbage bin scene

- apparently tyler’s shirtlessness in the shower was distracting for people in early tests and they had to tone it back w colour correction 💀

- cristin was like “did that happen when i had to take my shirt off?” and andy was like “uh huh yeah”

- the goat was on set for a couple of days + apparently cristin would talk to it in between takes 🥺🥺🥺 can she get any cuter

- max talked about how they lucky they were to get andy and cristin and how the movie wouldn’t have worked without them, they were so on the same wavelength and there was an early meeting where nobody else could get a word in bc they were talking so much

- nobody was in it for the paycheck, “it was for the love, and dare i say it, for the art” <3

- they took 3-4 nights to shoot the entire wedding, andy can Not stress enough how much they were rushing

- they haven’t busted out any bloopers yet bc they used pretty much every frame they could/reused them in different places

- cristin doesn’t want to know if nana knows bc the mystery of it is what makes the movie so great!

- andy said there’s no definitive answer to a lot of stuff bc a lot of the people working on the movie had diff opinions

- the french song w the slo mo bit of sarah in the bar was cristin’s choice

- andy is v confused why people think spuds is nyles’ dad,, he’s just tricking him into getting a ride and andy’s sorry to everyone who thought it was real

- cristin liked that the payoff at the end felt like payoff while still staying true to who nyles and sarah are and not just super romantic bc “it’s a romcom!” [andy said throwing his arms in the air]

- cloudbursting was andy’s idea from the very first meeting about the movie but we been knew

- andy: “here’s the ending! nobody knows what it means!”

- the family at the end was the producer’s family, they drove a very long way to do that 2 second scene lol

- andy and cristin were swaying to when the morning comes at the end 🥺

- andy clapped and shouted “WELL PRODUCED” when his/tli’s credit came up hahaha

#palm springs #andy samberg #cristin milioti #shoutout to caroline honestly #what an icon

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imaginesupply · 3 years

Text

Homecoming - Chapter Four

(Gif's not my own.)

Summary: The day has arrived, Captain Syverson is going home. For good, this time. He is going home to a civilian life he can hardly remember and a wife he barely knows, with memories of the war still fresh on his mind. Love might not be able to heal everything on its own, but it’s a good start.

Genres: Romance, drama.

Story warnings: Smut (always fully consensual), mentions of PTSD and nightmares and mental health, angst, hurt and comfort, fluff, mentions of war (minor), mentions of cheating (minor), mentions of pregnancy (very minor), police appearance (very minor), violence (very minor).

Notes:

-It’s my first time writing for one of Henry’s characters and I’m unsure I did Sy’s character any justice.

-This is a Capt. Syverson x OFC (Ada) story, written in 3rd person POV but OFC’s physical description is very limited so it could also be read as Capt. Syverson x Reader, I think.

-English is not my first language, so there might be some mistakes. Proofread, but not beta’ed. We die like men and all that.

-Timeline is a little wacky: The movie takes place in 2003 and the U.S. forces were withdrawn from Iraq in 2011, but I never set a precise date because I don’t think it’s essential for this story. However, some elements might not be realistic because if we set this story in 2003: Phone cameras quality was not as good as it’s now, but for the purpose of the chapters, I will need you to imagine you could film great videos with your flip phone haha. Plus, it says Sy is coming back after being deployed for more than three years which makes no sense unless we set this in 2006 or later. I am asking you disregard any time inconsistencies.

-Also: I am not American. I only lived in the US for six months and it was in the Midwest, not Texas so please bear with me if I write something stupid.

-Finally: This will be a Christmas fic and I intend to post the last chapter (there will be seven in total) on or before Christmas. However, religion is never mentioned in this story and the Christmas-sy elements of this story are limited to family gathering, gift giving and tree decorating.

Chapter Four starts after the cut. (Chapter Three can be found here.) Let me know if you wish to be tagged in future chapters or if you wish to be removed from the tag list.

Chapter Four

Chapter warnings: PTSD, angst (or as much angst as I’ll ever write), couple’s fight, outdated expectations of marriage (is that even a warning?), mentions of masturbation.

This chapter is a little different from the previous ones and it’s stitched together weirdly. Also, there’s no smut (which is unusual for me!), but Chapter 5 will be more humorous and lighthearted.

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“When’s your next leave?” Harper asked from behind the wheel, knowing better than to take his eyes off the sand road. He had been transferred to the Special Forces after the whole water pumping station incident, with Sy’s approval.

They were at the very back of the convoy, like always. It was the only way Sy was able to keep all the Humvees in sight and look out for everyone.

“Not sure I’m gonna be seeing home before July.” Sy replied, blue eyes scrunched up as he tried making something, anything out in the darkness surrounding them. Doing this scouting mission at night hadn’t been his idea, but the order had come from higher up and it was when the guards were at their lowest.

Harper smiled, a short huff escaping his chest. “Ah yes! What are you going do once you’re home for good?” The soldier asked, the tiniest hint of teasing in his voice. “Give your wife a small army of Texan babies?”

Sy scoffed, his chest shaking beneath the heavy protective vest. “Eyes on the road, soldier.”

“Yes, captain.” Harper chuckled even as he obeyed the command.

The rest of the drive went by in silence. The whole point of doing it at night was to be unseen and unheard. Confirm it was an armory so that an airstrike could later destroy it. Quick and easy.

Sy absentmindedly rubbed his finger through the thick glove, trying to feel the wedding band beneath. He never took the thing off, but it still somehow eased his mind to make sure it was there – make sure she was there across the ocean. They had talked on the phone the night before and he could still hear her shriek as she stubbed her toe on the doorframe whilst pacing around the house as she spoke to him. She wanted to order new tires for his pickup truck because she was afraid the current ones would be expired once he got back. He told her not to worry about any of that, but she insisted and then asked about Aika, changing subjects. No matter what they talked about, he always slept better after hearing her voice.

The landscape changed ever so slightly. They were there, right outside the deserted town’s walls. Sy gave everyone the order to pull up and get ready. It was only when he stepped out of the Humvee, his feet landing swiftly on the soft sand and the cold night’s air hitting his face, that he realized that Sy had been there already. He was dreaming again.

He had been there hundreds of times, taken the same steps, given the same orders and run away from the same explosion. After having the same nightmare night after night, the shock and the surprise element had lessened, but the dread remained unchanged. Sy was cursed to relive the same scene again and again, for moments even wondering if he lacked imagination so much that his mind was unable to come up with anything else.

Still, every night, he'd try changing the outcome, attempt to take control of his past self and make different decisions: refuse the mission, take a different team, catch Lieutenant Wilkins before he had a chance to run into the trap. It never worked. The result was always the same with him shouting for everyone to retreat and grabbing on to the back of Wilkins' uniform, trying to drag him out of the building, unsuccessfully. Then the telltale detonation followed, the building shook and they were thrown backwards with the explosion. When Sy landed on the concrete, there was a corpse - or what remained of it - on top of him. It was what had shielded him from the worst.

He once tried to warn Wilkins about the child's voice asking for help, to tell him it was a trap and that they needed to ignore it, but he was unable to speak. They were there, on the exact spot, a large room right down the stairs with no windows or lights, only three parted doors. Unlike the first time, the real time, he knew what was about to happen, through what door the grenade would be thrown out of before rolling on the dusty ground. And he went through it all over again.

It was the noise that alerted him the first time, the impact as it hit ground and then the rolling sound on the uneven surface.

"Retreat!" Sy heard his own voice shout loud enough for the rest of the team behind them to hear, then an echo of hurried, heavy footsteps followed.

He knew what happened then. Sy waited for the faint, unidentifiable cry for help and for Wilkins to blindly bolt towards the voice, the grenade. He knew he'd unable to stop him this time just like all the others. What was the point of making him relive the same failure over and over again?

"Help!"

Sy froze on the spot, unlike all the other previous nights. This time it was not a random infantile voice. It was Ada's. She was crying out for help, for him.

This time it was him who dashed after the voice, the grenade exploding before he could reach her.

°°°

Ada thought that they had dodged the bullet, that they had somehow managed to avoid all the stuff she had crammed her head with when she had found out Sy was retiring from active combat sooner than expected. The notes she had taken, the websites she had visited, the therapists she had researched and ranked according to online reviews; she had started to think none of these would come in handy. Apart from that small incident when grocery shopping and the whole thing with Tom, Sy was okay, they were okay. Or so she thought.

It only took maybe eight days of Sy being back home to find out that wasn't true. It was almost like when you took a plane and fly halfway across the globe. The first days you’d eat dinner at 3am and go to bed three hours later and nothing felt real. Then it settled in. But this wasn't a spontaneous holiday or a mid-life crisis, this was an honorable discharge. Sy wasn't leaving behind an unsatisfying career, he was leaving the war.

He came home. They reunited, caught up with each other, basked in other's presence. Ada had to keep reminding herself that she could fall asleep at night without the anxiety of feeling like she was wasting away his leave with something as frivolous as sleep.

Only sleep wasn't frivolous, Ada soon came to realize. Sy slept well the first few nights back home. The exhaustion helped, so did sex. Sy would kiss her, roll over, pull her into his arms and fall right asleep after it.

That changed quickly. On the eight night, she woke up to pee hours before dawn only to find his side of the bed empty. She found him downstairs playing on his new console. It was the jetlag that made him unable to sleep, he said. Ada knew better, even as she acquiesced.

The following night, after making love and taking care of her, Sy didn't even bother pretending he was going to bed. "I won't be able to sleep anyways and I don't want to keep you up," he claimed, putting on a t-shirt and some sweatpants before going out for a run. It was past midnight.

After going two days with barely shutting his eyes, Sy did finally fall asleep in bed with her. Ninety minutes later, he was awake again.

"You okay?" Ada groaned softly, forcing her eyes open but it was too dark to see anything. She had woken up with his tossing and turning.

"Yeah, just go back to sleep," Sy replied dismissively, turning on his side and facing the window away from her.

Ada was about to do just that, believing his words in her incoherent sleepiness, when her hand touched his clammy back. He had managed to sweat through his t-shirt, but his skin remained icy.

"You're not okay," she whispered to herself before switching on her small bedside lamp and sitting up.

"I told you to go back to sleep, Ada," Sy protested, still facing away from her.

She shook her head softly and tried to pull him into her arms, but he was too heavy, and she couldn't move him without his help. "If something's wrong, you can tell me, you know."

She waited in silence for him to answer, to say something, anything at all. She had planned on watching podcasts, meeting with veterans and whatever she could do to help, but Sy had come home several months earlier than planned and she didn't know what to do, what was expected of her as a wife, as his partner, as his support person.

"Alright, you don't have to talk if you don't want to," she attempted quietly, sliding back into bed and moving in behind him, doing her best to be the big spoon for once. "We can just cuddle until you fall asleep."

Apparently, that turned out to be the wrong thing to say. Sy jumped out of bed as if her touch had burnt him. "I'm not a fucking child, Ada. I don't need your cuddles."

She flinched at his tone, taking a deep breath but her voice still came out strangled. "I was not implying you were a child, Sy. I just thought - no - I just hoped that you would find some comfort with me," she admitted but he was already getting dressed, sweaty skin and all. "Clearly I was wrong."

His face was red behind his full beard. He was pissed, she could almost feel him buzzing as he tried to restrain his anger and not - she didn't know what he was keeping himself from doing. Whatever it was, Ada was sure his next words hurt just as much as whatever he was initially going to do.

"I don't need you to fucking comfort me, woman!" He spat out, putting on a pair of boots. "I don't need anyone's help and certainly not my wife's!"

With that, he marched to the bedroom door, forcefully throwing it open. "I'm going out for air. Don't wait up for me."

They barely saw each other the next day. Sy texted that he was going to spend some time with his mom. Still hurt and offended, even though she knew this was not about her, Ada left for the day without telling him her whereabouts.

She took her car and drove to the animal shelter to help out. No one was expecting her there, but they gave her some work to do and it did help her feel better for a couple hours at least. But it was barely noon when she was done and she refused to go home, meeting up with friends instead. None of them asked why she wasn't at home practically glued to Sy. They were used to their friend pretty much vanishing off the face of the Earth whenever Sy came home for two or three weeks, but they were wise enough not to question it.

His words had stung. Ada was aware he had been mad, and that people always said dumb stuff when they were mad, but she did find some truth in his words. Why would he need her comfort? Her help? Or even a wife at all?

Sy had lived thirty-three years without knowing her and then three more married to her but living continents' apart. He could command soldiers, lead missions, plan attacks and whatever it was that he also did back in Iraq. The house was his, his mom would be overjoyed to cook for him and do his laundry again if he didn’t want to do it himself and Ada didn't kid herself - if he wanted sex, all he had to do was walk into a bar.

So, technically speaking, she knew Sy didn't need her. He was a grown ass man who could survive on his own better than ninety-nine percent of the population. What had hurt her was that he didn't want her, nor her help or her comfort. And if he didn't want her to try and make his life a lil' bit better, what was even the point. Ada didn't know and all the cocktails she consumed didn't provide an answer either, but they did end up forcing her to eat almost her own weight in food to soak up all the alcohol before driving back home at ten.

She was still fishing out her keys to open the front door, when Sy pulled it open with so much force, it almost flew off its hinges.

"Where the fuck have you been?!" Sy shouted as soon as she set a foot inside.

"I was out with friends.” Ada took off her shoes by the door. "How's your mom?" She looked up only long enough to find him staring down at her with his thick arms crossed in front of his chest.

"I sent you a dozen texts and called you just as many times, but you never picked up." Oh, his tone had switched to that unsettling calm before the storm.

"I apologize, my phone was on silent," Ada replied. It was true, though she had still noticed his calls and texts. "Look I am tired, and I am going to take a shower." She said before walking upstairs to their bedroom.

To her surprise, Sy followed her up, stopping only at their room’s threshold as if he weren’t allowed inside without her forgiveness. "I am sorry for yesterday," he sighed, leaning against the doorframe.

“It’s okay.” Ada shook her head, undressing rapidly and balling up her dirty clothes to throw them in the hamper. She smelt like a whole bar and she was desperate for a shower.

“I didn’t mean it, what I said,” he added, finally walking inside the room but still keeping his distances.

“It’s okay, don’t worry.” She reassured him, disappearing inside the en-suite. This was just a fight. Couples had them all the time. Sy had even apologized. “I am sorry too. For today.”

His voice startled her, Sy was closer than she had expected. “Do you have need for me?” He asked, making her still as she bent down to fetch some fresh towels from the drawer. Did she have need for him? Ada frowned even though he couldn’t see her face. She heard him sigh again behind her.

"I felt useful back in Baqubah. I ran that city, commanded soldiers, gave my country something and then an explosion happens, two of my men die. And you know what they do? They send me home. Not to punish me for fucking up; they send me home because they thought I had witnessed enough shit and deserved an honorable discharge. Whatever the reason, my services weren't needed there anymore."

"Then I come home to my wife, to you, Ada. And you know what?” He asked before providing the answer himself. “The doors don't screech, the mirror has been replaced and my wife doesn’t even need me to take her out on dates or to the movies because she already has someone for that. So really, what's my goddamn purpose here? The house doesn't need me. You don't need me. Even my mother doesn't need me what with her new boyfriend. So why the fuck did I come back?"

He paused and Ada took it as a chance to stand up and face him. She didn’t know what this was. His voice wasn’t loud, he wasn’t shouting, and his posture didn’t appear hostile. They weren’t arguing, this was something different. “That’s not-” Sy cut her off.

"Then, last night, I realize that while you don't need me, I sure as hell need you, Ada. And that's not how I imagined my marriage would be. I should be the provider. I should be taking care of you, not the other way around."

"This is not the 1950s, Sy," Ada chuckled faintly despite herself.

"That don’t matter. It's how I was raised: preside, provide and protect. I don't care about the presiding part; I knew from day one that I'd never be able to boss you around and I didn't want to. But I still very much believe in providing for and protecting what's mine, and instead, you're the one doing that. So, not only did I fail my men back in Iraq, but now I’ve failed you too."

“No. Stop right there.” Ada interrupted him, more forcefully than intended. "Okay, first, you never failed me. Don’t you ever say that.” Sy huffed from his spot by the door, clearly unconvinced but she was determined to get this out. “Second, I... I think you need to stop settling for being needed and instead accept that you are loved, at least by me."

Sy stiffened against the doorframe, his face taking over an unreadable expression beneath his beard. Shit. Did she mess up again? "Did I say something wrong?"

He didn’t reply right away. Ada took a few steps to him when his words took her by surprise. "You said you loved me."

She stopped in her tracks, opening her mouth and closing it again a few times, stammering. Confusion was evident on her face. "Well, yeah."

"You've never said it before," Sy explained, the hint of a smile on his lips.

Ada frowned, a little unsteady on her feet as she thought back. "Are you certain? I'm pretty sure that is what I ended all our phone calls with."

He shook his head. "I meant in person.”

"Oh, I never realized.”

The cold bathroom tile floor was not the place either of them would have picked out under different circumstances, but it was where Sy finally allowed himself to be cuddled into the warmth of her embrace for the first time, his head resting against her naked breast with her slow heartbeat lulling him into a different kind of peace. “I do love you, Sy.”

Ada was no fool, this wouldn’t soothe all his troubles, but for now, it was a start. And that was all she could ask for.

°°°

Sy sat down on the chair in their study. Most walls were covered with Ada’s textbooks from floor to ceiling. He huffed at the sight. If you’d told him five years ago that he’d end up with an academic wife, he’d have laughed in your face. Now, he tested touched the shelves, watching them wobble slightly and decided he ought to build her something sturdier.

First, he had to take care of some administrative bullshit for the new job he'd be starting at Camp Marbry in January. He had always hated bureaucracy but there was no escaping it. He had learned it the hard way as a private. Maybe it was also time he started going through their utilities folders. Ada had taken over all of it when they got married, managing their bank accounts and paying the bills. Sy hadn't taken of that shit in years but he probably should relieve her of some of those chores.

His eyes wandered over to the neatly organized shelves under the office desk, trying to find the correct binder when his attention landed on what appeared to be a fancy silver notebook. Was that the one Tom had mentioned?

Sy knew he shouldn't go through her stuff, but he was curious and it was not like she had hidden it or anything. Ending his hesitation with a shrug, he picked up the notebook only for stray bits of paper to immediately fly out and land on the carpeted floor. "Shit!"

He bent down and gathered them all up quickly in his hand, lest Ada find out he was snooping and chide him like a soldier. He sat back on the chair and started reading through some of the bits and slips of paper he had caught: "shaving gel not cream!", "dog treats (the fancy ones)", "boxer briefs in L"... They were all dated too. Sy figured they were just old shopping lists until he opened the notebook.

The first part appeared to be a logbook of sorts with notes about each and every one of their calls for the past year. Sy went over some of them, grinning despite himself. He never imagined Ada took notes during their weekly phone calls.

"Sy says it's really cold at night in the desert."

"He seems a little down..."

"Aika has a sweet tooth." Damn, he missed that dog!

“Explosion. Two men dead.”

He skipped over the next few pages, remembering it all too well. After the logbook part, came a set of lists, all dated. "The monthly care packages," Sy realized, reading through them and concluding that this was where the bits of paper had fallen from.

All the care package lists were cross-referenced with the calls logbook. Sy had never understood how she always managed to send him exactly what he needed. He wasn't even aware that he had mentioned most of these small things to her. Most of the time, he didn't even understand how she managed to fit so much stuff into those small USPS boxes. Whenever he tried putting everything back in the cardboard box for safekeeping, half of it didn't fit back inside.

He flipped through a few more care packages before landing on a particularly long list. The date was highlighted, it was the package he had received on the month of his birthday. Ada had made him promise not to open it before the 18th. “You can open the box, but I will know if you open the present before your birthday, Sy,” she had warned him on the phone, trying to sound very stern. “And if you do, I’ll come to Iraq just to whoop your ass.” He had laughed so loudly, Harper had knocked on his door to make sure he was alright.

Sy laughed again as he went over the list, remembering how the private from the deliveries and postal department kept on complaining because packages this big were 'not usually authorized' and that he was getting 'favor treatment' because he was captain and that Ada shouldn't even have been allowed to ship a box exceeding the maximum dimensions. Sy had taken the package from the soldier and asked if he fancied a trip to the infirmary. That had shut him up quickly.

There had been candy (no chocolate because it had melted through its packaging once when she had tried sending him some), gum, the two first James Bond novels, dog treats, a new photo of his niece and nephew, underwear that was way too fancy for him and a handwritten letter from Ada.

What had immediately caught his attention was the very neatly wrapped gift box with a big red bow and a small card that reminded him once more not to open it until his birthday and only when he was alone.

Sy laughed, remembering how giddy he was to open that damn box. They'd gone on a recon mission on his birthday and when they got back, everyone was exhausted and dirty. He had hurried to the showers, cutting off some soldiers and then rushed to his private room to open the gift.

In all his adult life, Sy could only remember blushing three times, two of them the same day. First was when Ada said 'I do’ and he tried sliding the ring on her finger, but nervous and tipsy like he had been, the damn tiny thing slipped off his hand and fell on the carpet. Second was when the limo supposed to bring them back to their hotel was caught up in traffic, and the two of them decided to get it on in the chapel's storage room while another couple was getting married. Not only did they promptly – and accidentally, might he add – knock over all the props, he literally ended up fucking her through the cheap and unstable dry wall. The look on the couple’s face had been priceless!

The third time was on his birthday. Inside the box, he had found a handful of professionally made photos of Ada in lingerie and sometimes not even that much. If that didn't have his mind spinning and his dick throbbing after so many months away, he certainly couldn't believe his eyes when he found a small tube of lube and a transparent fleshlight.

It was not the gift as such that made him blush. The photos had him beyond excited and he was all too eager to try out the fleshlight. No, the embarrassment only settled in afterwards. More specifically when Sy remembered that despite having a private room as a captain, the washrooms where shared and he found himself cleaning the fleshlight in the sink with the little water they had, hoping no one would see him.

"Oh shit!"

Sy jumped in his chair at her voice, he hadn't heard her get home, let alone upstairs.

"Fuck. You weren’t meant to see that, Sy.” Ada babbled, quickly walking up to him with a sheepish look on her face.

Sy smiled, interrupting her as he seized her hips and pulled her down to sit on his lap. "It’s okay, darlin'."

Ada's eyes widened incredulously. "Really? You’re not even mad at me for meeting with a therapist to get advice?"

Sy closed his eyes, nostrils flaring for a moment. Right. Admittedly, he had not yet made it to that part but while he wasn't exactly keen on discussing his private life with strangers, he felt no anger at finding out that Ada had tried to look after him. Her words from last night had somehow made it through his thick skull.

"No, I'm not angry, not even for that. I know you were just trying to-"

Sy opened his eyes again at her silence only to find his wife grinning like the Cheshire cat as she looked at the open page on the notebook.

"You didn't even make it that far, huh?" She chuckled, pointing at the list. "Nope, you were still stuck with that ridiculous birthday gift I gave you!" While her tone was accusatory, Sy could see that she was trying not to burst out laughing.

Rolling his eyes, he pried the notebook from her hands and set it down on the desk. "It was not a ridiculous gift. I kept it all," Sy reassured her, pressing her body closer to his. "Well, not the lube. That was gone in weeks. And the photos are definitely a little used now but-"

Ada kissed him out of the blue, shutting him up. "Sy, I really love you but you're giving me secondhand embarrassment right now."

The bear of a man laughed, holding ever impossibly tighter before kissing her forehead. "I love you too, wife." Then, another thought crossed his mind. “Do you think it’s possible to send a care package to a dog?”

@colourmeinblue @hail-horror-queen @youthought-iwasa-nicegirl @kmuir1 @madbaddic7ed @coffeebreathy @purplelove75 @summersong69 @helenaellie

#henry cavill smut #syverson smut #henry cavill x reader #syverson x reader #henry cavill x ofc #syverson x ofc

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