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idesofrevolution · 4 years

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Welp as you can guess, Biker TF won the poll. So here we go kids.

It’d been weeks since I had... become who I am today. I’m still learning how to wield the power that Miss Marie had given me- and there were a few mistakes made along the way. But at the end of the day, I’d grown into a much more competent practitioner, so I decided one drunken evening to treat myself. After a delicious evening with a hunky biker bear, I’d convinced him to let me have his spare set of wheels. Riding came naturally to me- the open road and the wind rushing against me gives such a sense of freedom. It’s hard to explain. We still ride down the backroads outside of town just about once a week, although I’m sure the cruising spot in the bayou clearing does certainly help instigate such rides.

It was one summer afternoon after one such ride and rendezvous, wafting with the stench of sweat and sex, that I came across a young hitchhiker. He was young, maybe 21 or so with gorgeous ebony skin and a lean slender frame. I pulled over, and he quickly ran over to me.

“Hey, are you going as far as town?” His voice was frail and weak. A timbre of defeat echoed from the back of his throat, he’d clearly been through a lot.

“Sure am. Here, hop on and take the spare helmet.” I smiled at him, and he coyly avoided my glance. He awkwardly mounted the bike, nearly tipping us over. “Never ridden before? Aight, put your arms here, and keep your feet up.” I gently guided his wrists around my waist and he tightly held on, nearly knocking the wind out of me. As we took off, he clutched me even tighter. Riding down the road, I could sense he was a broken kid. The air of sadness permeated his energy, and shaded every ounce of his body language. I don’t think he ever realized just how beautiful a soul he had.

About ten minutes of riding, I noticed we were nearly running on fumes. Luckily, an exit sign harked a little good fortune with a Shell station off the road. We pulled over at the nearest gas pump, and dismounted.

“I’m gonna fill up, take this and get yourself something to eat man, you’re skin and bones!” I handed him a $20, and he looked at me as if I had three horns and purple skin. He blushed and walked toward the convenience store, but turned back to ask if I needed anything.

I looked at him, standing there against the cinderblock building and decided that he would get the help he deserved. If from nobody else, he would get it from me. I shook my head no, and he entered the store. Filling the tank took all of five minutes before it had topped off. I slid my card in, paid my dues and started to put my gloves back on before I noticed he had not come back out. To my left was another bike, sitting vacant and alone. Alarm bells went off and I rushed into the convenience store.

I opened the door and could immediately hear the shouting. Behind the counter some teenage dumbass was fuckin around on his phone, not thinking a thing of the brazen diatribe that was filling the room. There, behind the wall of Doritos, Pretzels, and Slim Jims was the young kid, and a big hulking stag of a man shouting with his chest all puffed up like a blowfish. The foul, revolting shit that spewed from that mans mouth was beyond anything that I’d care to repeat in any way here, but when I say it was in reference to his ancestry I’m sure you can fill in the blanks. Grabbing his shoulder like a vice grip, I was about to teach this man what’s what.

“I think it’s time for you pipe the fuck down.” The man turned to me, covered in grease and stinking from days of riding in the summer heat. You know the type, ripped up and stained wife beater with tight, patched jeans; topped off with big beat up harness boots that were clearly two sizes too big. He sneered, sizing me up to see where his chances were in this fight.

“Ahh, so you’re gonna be this little fuck’s hero, huh? You’re gonna be his WHITE knight, huh? See, I’m just letting him know that in these parts, it’d be best if he just fucked right off.” I’ll be the first to acknowledge that I have a bit of a temper issue which can get the best of me.. In the particular instance, however, I’d say I’m proud as all hell that I held that white trash by the throat about a sold foot above the ground. Tossing him aside, he landed against the aisle shelves like a ragdoll. I smirked, and figured out just how I would help this young man.

“Come on over, kid.” I waved him over, and he sheepishly plodded over to us. The racist tried in vain to pull himself up off the ground, but my size 13 Vans against his big burly chest had him pinned like a mouse in a trap. “I think this man needs a bit of an education, don’t you?” The kid smiled, looking down. I gently held his chin up. “And you need a confidence boost.”

“Ah, your fuckin’ queers too! I shoulda gue...” I shoved my foot into his stupid maw, silencing him for the last time. I turned to my soon to be apprentice and smiled. I pushed a bit harder, watching my shoe sink further and further into that piece of shit’s mouth, before my entire foot was engulfed by his stretched head. The kid looked in awe as our prey squirmed and fought, and I think it was at this point that the situation clicked in his mind.

“Yeah, hows my foot taste, bitch? They sure stink to high hell, they’re my favorite pair. Kinda jealous of you to be honest.” I wriggled my foot inside his head, watching the outline of my high tops slide around under his skin. I’d played around with him long enough. I turned to the kid, who I’d noticed was tenting ever so slightly and winked. “Might wanna get rid of your threads, bud, you’re not gonna need ‘em.” With a quick jerk of my knee, my foot slipped out of his mouth, his head returning to normal.

“You stupid fucks, I’m gonna fuckin kill you!” He would never get the chance. In fact, he was about to learn first hand what it’s like to have a healthy amount of melanin. With his clothes chucked aside, and his manhood at full mast, the kid walked toward the writing man. He gingerly put a single toe into his mouth, and pushed. His foot slipped effortlessly into the man’s throat, and quickly tugging at the corners of his mouth, he slipped foot number two in. The man was wriggling like a worm, I’m sure desperately trying to spew empty threats to ward us off. The sight of the kid’s lowering ass onto his stretched face caused a little bit of a muffled shriek to escape his cords. Now, musky, sweaty hitchhiker ass would be a treat to me on even the worst of days, but evidently some just can’t appreciate it’s mouthwatering flavor and scent. With his crack nuzzled right down on the good old boy’s nose, he began to pull on the man’s legs.

I watched proudly as his feet slipped downward, distorting his muscles under the tight confines of his jeans, before a sharp pop landed them inside the destroyed boots. They fit perfectly now, and I could just begin to smell the strong funk of greasy, funky socks and feet. The kid kept sliding into his body, his midsection growing and seemingly inflating with strong muscles. The old tank began to tear and rip, before it was shredded by the sheer mass of the inked, mocha colored abs and pecs that prominently burst forward.

The kid’s face was in full elation, as he squeezed his arms down the throat, pulling the skin above his shoulders with a loud snap. His arms slipped into place; thick biceps and forearms bubbling outward from the man’s already impressive musculature. His tatted hands flexed, the new sensation of calloused fingertips and meaty palms seemingly fascinated him as he began to rub his new body.

I removed my foot from my new friend’s chest, and helped him up. This man was a beast! Towering to a massive 6′5, he was bigger, broader, and stronger than me- and I’ll admit... it was hot seeing this hulking, musky hunk standing before me with the youthful, boyish face of an early twenty-something. I eagerly awaited the final stretch as he pawed the whimpering final mask of the former racist’s face. Grabbing it by the nose, he pulled ever so slowly, savoring every second the slimy flesh slipped over his head until it snapped loudly into place. He adjusted his new face as the dark complexion flowed up his neck and across his scalp and jaw. He opened his dark brown eyes and smiled a million dollar smile at me.

“Now this is what I’m talkin’ about man!” The only word that came to my mind was stunning. His exterior finally matched his interior: sexy, proud, and strong. “Oh shit...” He looked downward, and within seconds I knew exactly what the issue was. Speaking from experience, not all the adjustments are as easy, so I decided my assistance was required. Getting down onto my knees, I unzipped his jeans, pulling them down. It revealed the yellowed, reeking jockstrap beneath which nearly concealed the problem area.

Glued down behind his skin was the outline of his cock and balls. Just as I thought. Pulling down the jockstrap, I grabbed the hollow shaft and sac, tugging it up and down. Little by little his cock slid toward the chasm before it fully slipped in with a loud schlorp! When I tell you that cock grew into a footlong dong in seconds... with two sweat-dripping golf balls hanging low to garnish... I couldn’t restrain myself. I took it in my mouth, licking up every droplet of salty sweet sweat, pumping the precum out of it like a faucet. He grabbed the back of my head, thrusting his horse cock down my throat, fucking it like a fleshlight. His smelly balls slapped against my chin, and I could feel them engorging, getting ready to blow.

And blow they did. Rope after rope. Straight down my throat. Every cup of it was whatever sadness, whatever insecurities, whatever weights held him down; now completely purged. He pulled out and I pulled my apprentice into deep kiss. This is who he truly was, and it was a fitting circumstance for it to happen. We turned to the slackjawed cashier, who evidently witnessed everything. I tossed him a $100, and we left. Hopping on our bikes, we headed back to town. The things I was going to teach dear Antoine here were going to blow his mind, and potentially his load too.

Okay kids. So there you have it. This was a long motherfucker and I’m sure it’s the longest I’ve ever written. If you haven’t guessed by now, each installment of Sebastian’s stories will be focused on punishing hate. This is what’s brought me out of retirement, and this is what I love writing now. I’ll of course listen to the feedback that y’all have provided me- I will do one-offs still. In fact, I’ll probably do a one-off next. Let me know what y’all think in my askbox. Thank you guys so much for all the support you’ve shown me.

#male possession #male bodysuit #racial transformation #racial change #male transformation #male takeover #biker #jockification #biker tf #male tf #body possession #revenge #original #musk #musky #scentplay

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rebellconquerer · 3 years

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Another prompt fill, this time for @woobeau and the prompt "what if I kissed you right now". I hope you like!

"Sarah! How lovely to see that you could make it, and you brought the Sergeant as well… how nice." Abigail's voice is like nails on a chalkboard. Sarah doesn't even twitch at it, just turns smoothly from where she is gathering the trays of baked goods from the car, a polite smile painted on her face.

"Hello, Abigail. Yes, of course, I wouldn't miss this. The boys were both so excited about it." Sarah says brightly. Ice wouldn't melt in her mouth.

Abigail makes a face at the use of her full name. Sarah knows that she prefers being called Abby, but then again Abigail knows that Sarah prefers her name to stay out of her mouth and yet still here she is, hand playing gently in her blond hair, fake smile in place.

They both stand facing each other, eyes flat for a moment before James approaches them. Sarah sees him over Abigail's shoulder and watches him roll his eyes, making a lightning fast funny face for her benefit before he clears his throat.

Abigail turns around slowly, smile going much too warm as she adjusts her hair.

"Hey there, stranger! Long time no see!" Abigail says, swaying towards him.

It's Sarah's turn to roll her eyes.

James gives her his 'I'm too polite to say fuck off' smile and a head nod.

"Abby," he mutters in greeting. "Why not let me get those, Sarah?" He says, stepping in between the two of them and grabbing the last few trays before walking off again.

Sarah watches Abigail stare at his ass. She turns, slamming her trunk loud enough to grab Abigail's attention.

"So nice to see him out and about down here." Abigail says to her, eyes still staring after James.

Sarah shoulders her bag and refuses to roll her eyes again. "So you mentioned, Abigail." She replies, heading into the school while high heeled footsteps follow behind her.

"We are going to have you assigned to table 14 with Leslie, his daughter is in 4th grade, that's where the sweets and drinks will be sold." Abigail chatters.

A school fair wasn't something that she had much experience with as a kid in public school, but she's gotten used to the private school life and the strange rituals it seemed to entail. Not to mention the strange people.

"Sounds good," Sarah replies, trying to get the woman to move along. She sees James has already located the right table, a small tower of baked goods piled high on a ugly, green table cloth. As she approaches he looks up from conversation with an older man with kind eyes and greying temples.

Sarah smiles distractedly as she approaches.

"You must be Sarah. Leslie." The man says, standing to shake her hand while Abigail continues to hover.

"How long will you be in town this time, Bucky?" Abigail asks with a wide smile.

"Oh not long probably. A week or so."

"And Sarah has you here working, no one around to show you a good time? You really should take me up on that offer of dinner. I know a little place right on the water that's just to die for." Abigail continues, leaning into James' space.

Sarah watches his smile go a little stiff. She turns her back to them, focusing on unpacking her little stand while Leslie watches the conversation with a look of sick fascination on his face.

"Thanks, Abby. Yeah, one of these times..." James mutters, trailing off as an uncomfortable silence starts creeping in.

One of the other mother's calls out to Abigail just then and she has to move along, apologizing (only to James) for cutting their conversation short and promising to pick it back up later.

The moment she's out of hearing range, Leslie turns to James. "I honestly thought she was going to whack you in the head and drag you off to her Prius. I was kinda interested to see if you were gonna be beating her off with a broom."

Sarah can't help the boisterous laugh that escapes her at that sentence and the absolute horror that dawns on James' face.

"I like you." Sarah says, eyeing Leslie. He shrugs.

"I call 'em like I see 'em, and that was one hell of a mating ritual. You think she's in heat? I think she's in heat." Leslie replies easily, helping to organize the table.

Sarah glances over her shoulder to see James pinching the bridge of his nose.

"You okay there, soldier?" She asks, laughter clear in her tone.

James glares at her. "And see, if I tell her to shove her dinner invite I'm anti-social and demonstrating maladaptive behaviors. I'm gonna go find the boys. Hopefully they’re far away from her." James mutters the last bit before turning and stalking off.

Sarah glances up to see Leslie staring after him, eyes most definitely focussed on his ass.

"Really? You too? I thought Abigail said you were married." Sarah huffs.

Leslie does not look the least bit called out. "Yeah, married not dead… and even if I was dead I think I'd sit up and say yes sir to that behind."

Sarah shoots him a dirty look, it takes a fraction of a second but Leslie clocks something in her expression.

"Oh my god! I'm so sorry! I didn't realize he was spoken for. Why the hell didn't you scratch Abby's eyes out for staring at him like a slab of meat?" Leslie questions, face contrite.

Sarah purses her lips. "So I can be told I'm an angry black woman? I think not. Abigail and I have enough history without me going postal on her for making eyes at a man who'll never give her the time of day."

Leslie grins at that, wide and feral. "So he is spoken for then? You and him? Lord have mercy, do you have enough friends? Could you have more? I could have lived my whole life without seeing a man that fine in person. Tell me you're just dying to share some details with a group of girlfriends." Leslie says in a manic rush, words coming fast but with a lazy drawl.

Sarah laughs again, flopping into one of the chairs right as Leslie does as well.

"You really just say whatever is on your mind, don't you?" She asks, with a sidelong glance.

Leslie shrugs. " My husband calls it verbal diarrhea. Says it's endearing."

Sarah smiles at the honesty on his face. This man is clearly totally comfortable with who he is. She wasn't lying, she does like it.

"It definitely won't be boring, that's for sure." She responds and Leslie huffs out a small laugh.

**********************************

The rest of the booths are set up over the course of the next hour, the indoor gymnasium being transformed into a food hall as the outdoor field becomes a fair, complete with rides of questionable safety, clowns and screaming children.

The school puts on this fair once a year, ostensibly to raise money for extracurriculars, but Sarah thinks it's really an excuse for the parents to have a culturally appropriate dick measuring contest. She was over it within 5 minutes of being here the first year the boys started, but she will not let them feel, for even one moment, like they don't belong here as much as every other child. So, here she is, polite smile plastered on her face and socially acceptable conversation topics at the ready.

She hadn't even invited James, not really, but Sam got called away and James had mentioned he'd be at the base for a few days and wanted to see her and when Sarah had mentioned she had to do this, he'd just invited himself right along. He'd been to a few other school events before and if it gave him some time with her and the boys, he said it was worth it.

She glances around and spots him clearly trying to disengage from a conversation with Abigail and her flock of desperate housewives. It's almost amusing watching from across the room as James continues with his polite but distant 'fuck off' smile. Within a few minutes he orchestrates his escape and makes a beeline straight for her.

She smiles as he drops into the chair Leslie vacated moments ago, back to his admirers.

"Having fun?" She questions lightly, it's joking but also very real. He still doesn't like… well… people, and sometimes he needs to just leave. All he does is smile tiredly at her, however.

"I don't remember women being this aggressive in the 40s. Did I just miss it? I used to have to work for this kind of attention." He mutters, leaning over to steal a cupcake from the table. She scowls at him, but can't be bothered to slap his hand away.

"Oh please. I've seen pictures of you before the war. I don't believe that for one second." She mumbles.

That brings a slow, dangerous smile to his lips."Sarah! Are you trying to tell me you think I was pretty?"

She bites the inside of her cheek to prevent an answering smile. "Was, is. Don't fish for compliments. There are whole internet forums dedicated to deciding which version of you is prettiest, 1940s you or 2020s you. But hey, if you really wanna hear it said, I'm sure Abigail would love to wax poetically about any number of your virtues, probably starting with your ass." She replies dismissively.

His smile starts to verge into smirk territory. "Whoever said anything about my ass? Maybe you're projecting, Sarah?" He asks, eyes flicking obviously down to her mouth.

She shakes her head lightly in laughter, leaning just a bit away from him. She needs just a little breathing room before the full effect of Bucky Barnes flirting with her starts to get to her head.

"I think the number of people who have stared at it today speaks for itself." She mumbles, attending to her next customer, trying to ignore that she can feel him staring at her, his entire attention on her in that way that he has.

She glances over at him as the kid and his mother leave her stand. "What?"

"You know I've told Abby and her troupe no in a couple different languages at this point, but there is something I haven't tried yet." He whispers to her, leaning into her space again.

Sarah flicks her eyes over James' shoulder and she can see Abigail staring at them.

"Oh yeah? What's that?"

His face gets a little more serious, the wattage of his smile turning down a little as his eyes flick down to her lips. She watches him take a deep breath and lick his own lips before he speaks, the motion sending a jolt of heat to her core.

"What if I kissed you right now?"

The question stuns her and she pulls in a sharp breath. "Here?" She squeaks.

"In front of God and all his angels." James replies, eyes coming back up to meet hers. "Think she'd get the message then?"

He's leaning in even closer, just on the wrong side of social decency and she can smell his cologne, something dark and earthy, mixed with the leather of his jacket and gloves. It's heady, almost intoxicating.

A part of Sarah wonders if he's joking. They aren't dating publicly or anything and so yeah, he follows her around a bit, but they could be friends, friends do that. But she meets his gaze and there is no hint of humor in them. The gears of her mind start to turn a mile a minute. Is this his way of saying he wants them to be more public? To have more borders than whatever 'definitely a thing' means. Or maybe he really is just giving Abigail the shake? Sarah suddenly feels like she's back in high school.

She sways in towards him, the move automatic, before she catches herself and pulls back a little.

"Um, that's probably not a great idea." She manages to whisper back, her own eyes straying to his mouth. "Probably wouldn't deter her too much and then she'd hate me even more than she does now. She's the umm… president of the PTA you know, dangerous enemy to have. Plus someone might get a shot of us, then that's in the magazines and there goes peaceful Delacroix."

Most people here don't know exactly who he is, but someone might, so she's not wrong. Still the mumbled excuses are just that, excuses. She whispers them instead of the truth, which is that if she's kissing him in public she wants it to be because they both really want to and are ready to.

The intensity of his gaze doesn't change, even while he leans away from her again, back into a socially acceptable distance. She can read nothing from his face about how he took her denial.

"Fine, but I'm keeping track. I'm exacting one kiss for every innuendo I have to suffer through." He murmurs and that draws a shocked laugh from her.

"Fair enough." She responds and the dark promise of the smile he gives her as he stands is enough to send her pulse soaring.

The moment he's gone, Leslie comes wandering back, eyes once again focused on James walking away.

"Holy crap, the two of you have enough heat to warm a small Canadian town." He says, dropping into the seat James just vacated.

Sarah starts to reorganize the line of snack sized juices on the table, attempting to ignore him.

"I don't know what you are talking about. You're the only one that has even noticed that we aren't just friends." She mutters. She sees Leslie shrug in her peripheral vision.

"Most people don't see chemistry anywhere they don't expect it. I'm a photographer. I spend half my time trying to get people to fake what the two of you are just dripping."

She smiles softly. She doesn't know why, but the fact that this man, this stranger, sees what she feels from James is… nice. Reassuring somehow.

"It may sound a little strange, but… thank you for that." She replies, unable to maintain eye contact.

Leslie just shrugs again, joining her in her unnecessary task of reorganising their wares.

"People don't always see the chemistry between me and my husband either." He says softly.

There is silence for a moment.

"Then again, if my husband looked at me in public the way that man just looked at you I'd be giving all the kiddies a real detailed sex ed lesson, right here on this table. You are a stronger woman than I, Sarah." Leslie says with a giggle.

Sarah smiles softly in response. Yes, yes she is.

#prompt fill #writing prompts #bucky x sarah fic #ficlet #sarah x bucky #sarahbucky #Bucky Barnes #tfatws #sarah wilson #rebellwrites #fleur de louve

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popculturebuffet · 3 years

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Blacksad: Somewhere In the Shadows Review

Hello you beautiful people! I have a WEIRD relationship with Noir. It’s weird because i’ve never really dived into the films of type, though I really should, But as a kid I absolutely LOVED the tracer bullet arcs in Calvin and Hobbes, where everyone’s favorite hyperactive and imaginative six year old would plant himself as the hero in a noir pastiche.. ironically like myself Bill Watterson was also not a huge noir buff and just relied on Cliches but hey, it worked.

Still love these. So from fourth grade on it imprinted a lifelong love of a good bit of detective noir. Not enough to you know, get me to read any traditional noir books or watch any noir tv shows or detective procedurals but I still love a good mystery from time to time and some of my favorite comics such as Howard the Duck by Chip Zdarksy and Peter David’s second run on x-factor run on the genre while having fun with it’s cliches.

I also love anthropormphic animal stories. Dunno why, I just do, so once I found out about Blacksad, a comic that combines disney quality art from a former disney animator with gripping, adult noir that rips your heart out... I couldn’t resisit trying it. Telling the tale of John Blacksad, a cynical private detective and the cases he steps into via gorgeous, straight out of a disney storyboard art, the series is by Juan Díaz Canales (writer) and Juanjo Guarnido (artist), the latter a former Disney artist who worked on several Disney films, meeting in the 90′s while working on licensed works and hitting it off, leading to this series. That’s.. really all I could find about the making of the series in English. The only other fact is the series is designed for first release in France, which has a huge comics market, hence the various volumes being called “Albums”, with them later being released in Spain and then english, currently in the latter through Dark Horse Comics, who last year collected the current 5 albums and some side stories into one big volume. And with Dark Horse having infrequent sales including Blacksad on comixology it’s easy enough to pick up all 5 volumes in one complete package on digital for 9 bucks, as it is right now. Seriously I’m not trying to shill for Comixology or Dark Horse, I just love these comics and suggest picking them up. The creators DO intend on new volumes... it’s just both have been busy with other work so they’ve been stuck in development hell since 2013. However given there have always been, if much smaller, the biggest being 5 years, gaps between the Albums, I don’t think the series is dead quite yet and with Dark Horse fully backing it, taking the series from only two volumes getting translated to both translating the first four AND translating the fifth within a year of it’s release, we’ll undoubtly get the next one quickly. The series has also spawned a game, Under the Skin, which i’ll probably also cover some day as i’m dying to play it, but i’m waiting for a sale because it’s around 30 bucks and I can wait. It’s also been nominated for an Eisner three times to no suprise and has had fans in Stan Lee, Jim Steranko, Tim Sale and Will freaking Eisner. Yes the GUY the awards were named after liked the series. So yeah, I love this series and highly support it, but the thought of covering it hadn’t occrued to me.. in part because I already had three comic retrsopectives going, my looks at The Life and Times of Scrooge McDuck, Scott Pilgrim and New X-Men, and simply because I just hadn’t thought of it till Kevin, frequent patron and comissioner of the blog whose paid for tons of reivews, suggested covering the second Album, Arctic Nation, which has our hero searching for a missing little girl he feels has been taken by the titular white supramacist movement.. and if your wondering “Wait how the fuck does that work their animals”, John is black coded due to his black fur, while the white suprmacists are all Arctic Animals.. a touch I really like as I’d honestly never thought of that as a metaphor but it fits like a glove, especially given that most white furred arctic mamals are pretty agressive looking. So yeah I’ll be covering that one next month for Black History Month, among many other things, but I felt I wanted to cover the series in order and since again, it’s only the second of five and I had a free space on the schedule. So without further adew, join me somewhere in the shadows and under the cut as we enter the world of one John Blacksad.

We open as you’d expect for a Noir with a heady narration and a murder. John was brought in by Smirnov, the chief of police and an old aquantice who serves as his Commissioner Gordon. Since the victim is John’s ex, he was brought in to see if he knows anything and as you’d expect warned not to look into it further, as John dosen’t buy this was a simple robbery. His response is exactly what you’d expect.

I mean.. what did you expect? You called him out of bed to see his former lovers corpse, KNOWING he’s one hell of detective, dosen’t give up on things easy, and would probably be curious. For him to say “Cool gonna go smoke some reefer and take in a looney tunes short at the theater, call me when you find the murderer?” Also this series takes place in the 50s. Because of course it does.

So John goes back to his office to brood, reflecting that the office feels like the remains of an ancient civlization because “It seems to be all that remains of the civlized person I used to be”. Hell of a line.

We then get his backstory with the victim, Natalia. She’s a famous actress, who John first as a younger man when hired to investgate some death threats she’d received with a boquet of flowers. John shows off just how good he is at his job in just a few panels.

IT not only shows in just a few panels just how ferocious our hero can be when needed and how good he is at his job, easily having tracked down the man responsible and scared him shitless without breaking as sweat, but how fucking gorgeous the art is. I meant it when I brought up the old disney comparison, as Steranko even mentioned in his introduction to the collection of the first three volumes how it looks like animation cels on the page. IT’s utterly breathtaking and ONLY gets even more lush and beautiful as the series goes on and perfectly fits the noir stylings with it’s realisim, making it’s animal characters feel utterly human and real while still keeping their animal traits in perfect detail.

John impressed her, and as we see in the next page under his narration they not only had really steamy passionate sex, and why yes we do see them naked even if the bits are covered it’s still very much nsfw and we saw Natalia’s naked corpse earlier, so that ship had already sailed anyway, with Natalia taking him on both as her lover and her on staff detective and the two were much in love.. until the fame apparenlty got to her judging from the visuals, and the realtionship fell apart.

Before we move on i’d like to talk about the narration which CAN be a bit overwrought here or there and is a bit overused.. but does have it’s mometns of being utterly effective as with above, contrasting John’s statments about a sucessful job and being hired on.. with the beginnings of his and Natalia’s relationship and their passionate lovemaking. IT’s not BAD and it works for the setting, but it can be distracting, but thankfully the series levels this out as we go and they learned from it so no harm done. Just the kinda thing that happens early in a series life when the creators are getting a handle on things, so no harm done.

But naturally John isn’t going to take the love of his life, responsible for the happiest days of said life, being brutally murdered lying down and is going to find the bastard who did this. So he goes to an old friend, Jake Ositombe, a championship boxer and Nat’s former bodyguard who he recommended to her. Given we see him knock the shit out of his opponent without the slightest effort, yeah good call. Also yes we share the same name and no it’s not weird to type about another Jake, adventure time sorta.. knocked that out of me. Jake dosen’t know much since she fired him a long time ago as one of her lovers hired private security, and the last one he knew of was a guy by the name of Leon. John, naturally, easily finds the guy’s apartment, Leon Kronkski, a screenwriter.. but also rules him out as the guy lived in a humble apartment and clearly didn’t have the cash to hire his own hired goons.

He does find a clue, a matchbook for some place called the Cypher Club.. and another when the man’s sweet mouse landlady shows up, who John charms by pretending to be Leon’s friend and flashing a big smile, finding out a msyterious man with “big bulging eyes”, took him. This scene also to me is great in subtly showing off John’s skill. While the previous flashback showed how badass he is, shoving a gun down the throat of a stalking wannabe murderer with pure rage in his eyes.. here we see a lighter approach, how despite his serious and dour nature.. he easily slips into being cheery and looking like an average joe off the street. He bluffs the landlady not because the plot says so.. but because like any PI he’s just that good at slipping into whatever roll he needs to get the info he needs. He can be his dour self or a charming happy go lucky guy without missing a beat.

So with that he goes to the studio leon worked for where his boss.. is a walrus j jonah jameson?

But yeah J. Jonah Walruson wants pictures of spider-man.. moving pictures.. but he can’t film them with his star dead and his screenwriter indefintiely gone, with the same bulging eyed man having told JJ he’d be gone indefintely. Nothing suspicious about that!

So naturally John’s next plan is to find the guy.. who is already after him as you’d expect with both a knife to slash at our hero with and the fog covering him so he can hit and run. But unluckily for him .. well i’ll let john say it...

John headbutts the myserious snake, who only managed to get his coat before and tries to interogate him.. but gets a quick jab to the gut and the guy gets away.

We soon meet our big bag, who has a big speech about insects and things being usefufl.. and once they stop being useful.. they become dead and collectable, telling the snake man to back off John.. and sending his right hand man to go take care of the Snake who apparently took something from the office. Realizing his numbers up the Snake Man goes to a lizard bar, picks up a package from a friend and runs out the back, knowing he’s being followed.. and we get some hints there’s also racial tension between lizards and mammials here as the bartender, said friend, has the entire bar circle around the guy preventing him from following our mysterious bulging eyed man.

Meanwhile John goes to the Cipher Club, a wretched hive of scum and villiany. Given Nat was a glamorous movie star, it’s very clear she was here to hide from something or someone, and the bartnender, a wild pig.

No not you sweetie. The wild pig tells John leon was indeed here and a local rat, in both senses of the word, offers to take John to him.. though understandably John is supscious of the guy he just met in a seedy bar taking him anywhere except to get some heroin. Did Heroin exist yet? Questions for later. But he’s got a case so he follows. Though suprisingly the guy DOES actually come through and it’s not ENTIRELY a trap: he takes john to a tomb for Noel Krinsok.. an anagram for Leon’s name. Unsuprisingly he’s dead. And also unsuprisingly, two hired goons

Show up. As I said not ENTIRELY a trap but it’s obvious given the rat split moments before that our mysterious big bad knew where john would be headed next, and thus while giving him a clue, also set him up to get his head knocked in. And while John is badass.. these guys are a bear and a rhino, both stronger, bigger, and with suprise on their size, as well as a tombstone to knock john’s head into. They easily beat him senseless and hope he got the message, though john gives a defiant fuck you before being punched out for it. He returns home, feeling like he’s aged 20 years “But no one respects the elderly anymore”, PFFT, and heads home to his rathole, not literally this time, apartment to lay on his cot and think as he gets some rest.

And while the trail for Leon is cold. our mysterious murderer accidently tipped his hand: only someone with a LOT of money and influence could make a man disappear like this, and it tracks with what we’ve seen so far. The guy has multiple henchman and despite being a big star with plenty of clout, Natalia had to hide in a dive bar just to get away from him and even THEN clearly wasn’t so lucky given she and her new lover both wound up dead. But Blacksad has bigger problems.. he wakes up in a jail cell.

Turns out Smirnkov had him arrested.. but for his own protection as the case is getting too hot and while he was late on that front given John’s face is hamburger, it’s clear from his tone and demeanor that while he may of been harsh with John earlier.. the two are old friends, and the Chief is simply worried about him winding up dead, and John takes you know being thrown in prison in stride. Which while not a bad scene it is a BIT suspect that a black coded character was thrown in jail for nothing and it’s treated very lightly and as a simple protection between friends, though given they wouldn’t think of coding john like that till next volume, I brush it off as accidental implications in hindsight.

Smirnkov though also called John here.. because he needs his help. Since Natalia’s Murder Case is pointing very high up, so his superiors have ordered him to bury the case and as he puts it “the bastards know where to squeeze”. And given in volume 3 we learn Smirnov has a wife and children, it’s very obvious where they squoze and to the volume’s credit while we don’t know that yet it’s VERY clear from Smirnov’s body language they went after some form of family. So while he has to give it up.. John does not. So he brought him to jail to offer a proposal: John goes after this son of a bitch and nails him to the wall.. and Smirnov will FULLY protect John no matter what he has to do. Now naturally given the rightful reckoning for police that’s been going on for almost a year, this SHOULDN’T play well. You have an officer outright telling an outside party that he and his boys will cover up his crimes. But.. honestly even in that framework.. it still works. That’s because.. the system has failed here. The higher up and more corrupt cops put pressure on the honest and hardworking family man Smirnov to stop a legitimate investigation into a horrible murderer.. because the guy is rich. And even now we’ve seen time and time again how rich assholes effortlessly escape the consequences of their action: How our own president who actively asked other nations to interfere in our election escaped his first impeachment trial, but hopefully not the second, aquitted. How Jeffery Epstien took YEARS to bring down with his years of ellicit parties involving innocent women and children he fucking enslaved. How Bill Cosby got away with all kinds of sexual assault for decades. The rich are often literally above the law in this country, so having a down on his luck detective, who retroactively himself is a minority, go after him with the full support of an actually GOOD police officer who genuinely believes in these people being held accountable but is held back by his family’s safety.. it works. John isn’t able to skirt consequences BECAUSE of a corrupt system.. but because the system’s so broken and slanted in the rich’s favor, that the ONLY option an honest officer like Smirnov has is to go outside it. And when asked WHY he’s doing all of this, Smirnov merley replies

... I got chills, their multiplyin. So John plans to find the bulge eyed snake after a hot shower.. only for the guy to hold a gun to John’s head, having been waiting for him and wave the murder weapon, in a baggie around, the item he had retrieved, feeling John’s trying to replace him as number two. However before he can do anything our snake pal is shot full of holes by the rat from before, who John dispatches with his own gun.

So the Snake starts to expire.. but feels a kinship with John “We are nothing right cat? Spent so much time waiting for the right chance and when it happens it all falls to pieces”. The Snake explains his roll in things: He was one of the private security our big bad hired to guard Natalia. But being supscious he also hired the rat to follow her around, and thus found out about her affair, brutally torturing and murdering Leon and shooting Natalia in the head. And we finally get a name as our snake friend tragically expires.

The snake’s death and tragic dying moments are something I forgot about.. but damn if their not really good writing, taking a character who before was seemingly just a murderous goon.. and comparing him to our hero. Another working class joe, and one who just caught up with the wrong asshole at the wrong time. He easily could’ve been john in another life and vice vers and it’s a good parallel.

So John’s nightmares finally have name and he naturally goes to confront the guy since he has an almost literal get out of jail free card. Turns out Smirnov is the richest man in town, and has his own big tower. Huh.. sounds familiar, and John simply sneaks his way up and once Statoc’s guards from before hear him rustling about.. sneaks up on them and clocks both one at at time with a fire extinqusher.

Statoc warmly welcomes our hero inside, and has the fucking lizard balls, as he’s some sort of lizard himself, to offer John a JOB

I mean he’s clearly lost a lot of his goons and most of them were incompetent. He fails to realize that John can’t be bought, is here for vengeance and has no intention of selling his soul to some rich asshole who killed someone he loved for the creepiest and most asinine reasons imaginable. He says john’s Concisence is why he can’t pull the trigger and that he lacks “cold blood”.. before we cut to the next page, where John’s shot the fucker in the head and left a gaping hole where his lack of a brain was.

And again what makes this work is the aftermath: John is clearly shaken, having ONLY been able to pull the trigger beause of Statoc’s smug grin and clearly not taking the sight of Statoc’s dead body bleeding out well. And while Smirnov keeps his word, covers for him despite the two guards clearly providing an iron clad argument against john and knoiwng thier blatantly covering this up.. he’s not happy about it.

This is WHY the narrtive still works. Statoc stacked the law against the bad guys. .but despite this being a necessary evil.. it’s still an evil and subverting teh law at this rightly leaves him not in a great place mentally. John himself isn’t even if he plays it off as otherwise, as we get our final bit of narration and one hell of a closing line.

Final Thoughts:

Somewhere in the Shadows is a bit rough around the edges, leaning a bit too heavily into the noir pastiche and Blacksad being a harboiled detective, something the next volume would ease up on. That being said.. it’s still a masterpiece, with gorgeous art and masterful pacing. While it’s the shortest of the stories, like those after it the pacing is sublime and never feels like it has any down moments or stuff that could’ve been cut, and the mystery keeps you on edge the whole time. Having forgot a lot of the details since last read I was on the edge of my seat the entire story and loving every second of it. Somewhere in the Shadows is the perfect starter for the series, introducing an important charcter in Smirnov and the noir nature and giving us a case personal to John so we can see who he was before, what he is now.. and what he WILL be for the rest of the series. The moment that MADE him into an even harder man than the one we follows here.. when he took a life in cold blood. A masterful story, seriously check it and the other volumes out, on comixology, in stores, great stuff. Next time we look into john and as I said, he’s taking down some racists and we also meet his sidekick weekly for the first time. As for me tommorow I dive back into my Tom Luictor retrospective but hit pause on our boy for a bit to take care of some of the larger plot. Until the next rainbow, it’s been a pleasure.

#blacksad #john blacksad #Smirnov #noir #anthropomorphic #anthro #funny animal #somewhere within the shadows #comics #dark horse comics #france #french comics #igor statoc #Natalia Wilford

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bangtan-sonyeonddaeng · 4 years

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BTS Scenario: You wear a rock groups’ shirt to their concert and fans tease you

This was requested to my messages and the person wishes to remain anonymous so I don’t have a screen shot of the request ^^ But they wanted something where the reader gets tickets to a BTS concert last minute and doesn’t have time to change so they wear a rock group’s t-shirt to the concert and are teased by fans, but with a happy ending of course.

It was a lazy day for you. Nothing was planned, and you were lounging around the house in a pair of shorts and a t-shirt from your favorite rock group. You were scrolling through social media, seeing BTS posting about how excited they were to perform tonight in your city. You wanted to go so badly but sadly tickets had sold out quicker than your internet could keep up with. You locked your phone and set it face down on the table, staring up at the ceiling and realizing within just a few short hours they would be performing in front of tens of thousands of army. You were wishing you could be one of them when a loud frantic knock rapped on your door. You got up and opened it, only to be dragged out of your home by your best friend.

“Y/n we gotta go now!”

“What? Why what are you talking about? Where are we going?”

“To see BTS!” You stop walking and freeze in your tracks, staring at your friend with a dumbfounded expression.

“I’m sorry what did you just say?”

“I got tickets last minute! So we’re going to see BTS now we only have a short about of time to get there, get parking and get checked in so let’s go!”

“At least let me put my shoes on first!” You run back inside and quickly lace up your shoes, not having any time to change out of what you were already wearing. You jump in the car and head over to the venue. The speed with which your friend gets you there is astounding.

You are standing in line waiting with the other army to get into the venue when you notice a group of girls staring at you. You make eye contact with one of them and don’t miss the sneer that forms on her face as she eyeballs you. You ignore her and go back to talking to your friend when suddenly you see her heading right for you. You roll your eyes already anticipating whatever she has to say isn’t going to be friendly if the looks she was giving you were any indication.

“Can I help you?” She stares at your shirt and you can already tell where this is going.

“Yeah. How about you name 5 BTS songs?”

“How about you mind your own business and I’ll mind mine.” You walk away from her and approach the security table to have your bag checked. One of the staff from the venue was watching this whole interaction. She saw the group of girls pointing and laughing at you, saying that you probably weren’t even a fan and just came to say you’ve been to a BTS concert and brag about it to others. You didn’t witness this part. But the staff that did were none too kind with the way they threw her bag on the table and sorted through every little thing she had, holding her up twice as long. You turned around and saw the frustrated look on her face, chuckling to yourself as you headed for your section.

Your friend turns to you and nudges your shoulder.

“Hey, don’t let them get to you okay? This is your day to be happy and celebrate.” You nod and smile, just feeling glad that you finally get to see your favorite group in person. You stand in line to wait for a bottle of water, and when you head to your section you feel your heart drop. She’s in front of you. Her whole friend group is. And when they see you coming the smirk on all their faces tells you they are going to make sure you don’t enjoy your night at all.

“Ya! Are you serious? Someone actually said that to one of our army? The audacity! Our fans should treat each other with kindness how dare those mean girls do that? Makes me so mad. If I see that fan in the crowd today I’m gonna make sure they know how much they mean to us. Are you not allowed to listen to other peoples’ music just because you’re a fan of ours? And another thing-”

“Jin calm down we’re about to go on stage!” Namjoon scolds him, putting his leader voice on and Jin grumbles.

“I’m just saying. You can’t be mean to your fellow army like that. I won’t stand for it.”

“But you know we can’t show special attention to any fans, hyung.” Jungkook mentions.

“Rules be damned. When have I ever been one to listen to our managers? This is Jin Hit entertainment as far as I’m concerned.” Sejin clears his throat and glances at Jin from he corner of the room.

“I mean um..okay I better be quiet now.” Sejin lets out a chuckle and shakes his head, but there is a fondness to it that lets Jin know he’s not seriously upset with him.

“You guys are on in 5! Get ready to go!” Everything falls into a smooth rhythm after this. The VCR’s begin playing, they all stand in a huddle and get ready to do what they love most.

The moment BTS comes out on stage you can’t see anything. Because that girl has decided that sitting on her friend’s shoulders to block your view was a mature thing to do. You are so fed up at this point that you don’t even bother to put up a fight. Your friend tries to maneuver you both in the crowd so you can get past them and see, but when you even get close you are shoved back. You sigh in frustration and in the brief moment you are looking at the stage you lock eyes with Jimin who notices the exasperated expression on your face. He shakes his finger at the girls and mouths “Don’t push!”. She doesn’t seem to care much as the only thing she is concerned with is the fact that Jimin noticed her. You roll your eyes and try to move away but are blocked again. Jimin walks up to one of the security guards who points at the girl and tells her to get down. This time she listens, although it just seems to make her even more mad at you and results in more pushing. It’s a concert. You understand that pushing is inevitable but this is just getting ridiculous at this point. It doesn’t sneak past Namjoon’s gaze and when he comes up to the mic after their ments he looks right at the girl in front of you and says

“And please. For your safety. Do not push each other. Be kind to your neighbor they are a part of this family too.” He says it with a finality that seems to finally get through to her thick skull because she stops pushing you after that. Although she does keep holding her phone up and army bomb up to partially block your view of the stage. At least you get to see the members now every once in a while.

The rest of the night passes by in a haze of happiness and joy. Part of you still can’t believe that you’re here tonight watching your favorite group perform. And before you know it the night is coming to a close and they’re on their last song. It’s during Jin’s ending speech that he finally decides he’s going to speak up.

“Everyone. Thank you so much for being here tonight! You know we love and adore our army so much but please remember to be kind to each other. Our fans are allowed to enjoy listening to other groups, if someone behind you is shorter than you, don’t purposefully try to block their view of the stage. And especially do not push each other. You could hurt someone.” You see her shoulders sag and you can’t help but finally feel a sense of victory over her. And with that the smile is plastered right back on Jin’s face as he goes into asking if everyone had a good time, and that he can’t wait to come back and see all the fans again.

You enjoy the last song to the fullest, having a blast and dancing and singing your heart out. After the concert is over you take your time before you begin to file out of the venue, wanting to relive all the memories again while you wait for the crowd to clear out. You are about to leave when you are suddenly stopped by a security guard.

“Excuse me.”

“Um.. yes?”

“Some of the staff asked me to give this to you.” You are handed an envelope and are about to open it when he stops you. “I was told to tell you don’t open it until you get back to your car.” You’re shocked at this, wondering what on earth it could be. You and your friend practically sprint back to the car. You throw the door open and nearly tear the letter in half trying to open it. When you see what’s inside you scream.

“What?! What is it y/n?”

“It’s tickets to their show tomorrow. Front row seats. Oh my god. What the hell?!”

“There’s a letter in there! Read it!” You unfold the note and see it was written by a staff member.

Hello! I hope this isn’t too weird but, I was standing in line at the security check in when I saw how those girls were treating you. I told the guys about it because I needed to vent and they were very upset by it. They also saw everything that happened during the concert and were sad thinking you might not have gotten the full concert experience so they asked me to give you these tickets to the show tomorrow. Jin was very insistent I must say.

So we hope to see you there!

You feel tears welling up in your eyes as you hand the letter to your friend to read.

“Oh my god! Y/n!”

“Today and tomorrow I have a feeling are going to be the best days of my life.”

#bts reaction #bts scenario #bts imagine #bts #kim namjoon #rm #kim seokjin #min yoongi #jung hoseok #park jimin #kim taehyung #jeon jeongguk

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67impalaandwhisky · 4 years

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Destiny Is Heaven Sent

Summary: Knowing Dean Winchester since you were fifteen, you’ve always been pulled in his direction. Always wanting to open up the rattled and broken cage your heart lives in. But when the child you’ve been raising together dies, you find yourself closing up the cage of your heart again. And if destiny has one thing for you, it’s to break you down before bringing you back up.

Characters: Dean x You, Sam, Castiel, Bobby, OFC’s, OMC’s, (Ongoing)

This Series Is Set Through Seasons 1-6 With Knowledge That The Bunker Exists

Rating: 18+

Warnings (Ongoing and Will Be Updated): Grieving, Mentions of Rape and Defilement (As Per A Case), Show Level Violence, Swearing, Smut, Impreg Kink, Blood, Fighting, Drinking, Dean Being Dean, Fluff, Angst, Dom!Dean, Sub!Reader

Warnings For This Chapter: Show Level Violence, Fluff

Chapter 5.

"You better not let my insides turn to mush." You tell your best friends as they drive through the dark night towards the scene of the crime.

"We would never let you get hurt, ever. Don't be ridiculous." Dean mumbles as he lowers the music as it blasts throughout the car.

"I'm just saying." You whisper as you tug at your dress.

"Yeah well, don't 'just say' anything. And, stop pulling at your dress like that something is gonna pop out from one end or the other if you keep it up." He barks out.

Throwing his jacket over your legs, you let the scent of his cologne wash over you and you feel your nerves begin to calm down.

"You memorized what he looked like right?" Sam asks as you finger at the green fabric of his jacket.

"Yep. Got it all in here." You say tapping your temple with your index finger before looking out the window.

You watch the odd streetlight pass you by before eyeing the moon. You've always loved how, no matter how close you drive towards it it always seems farther and farther away with each step.

"Since Morley Rosmund was cremated by the state, he must be attached to something. A lock of hair, a locket, something he bled on." Sam says as he flicks through the sheets of paper within his manila folder.

"Maybe he's attached to the old woodchipper that prostitute shoved him through." You comment as the car begins to slow down.

"That would be an issue." Dean mumbles as he pulls up to the nefarious corner.

You want to open the door but your nerves seem raught with determination to stay inside the safe car.

"All we need to find out is where he takes the women. Whether it's his old house, his old office, anywhere. We'll send him packing for the night and go there in the morning to scout it out and find whatever he's attached to." Dean tells you as he hooks his hand behind the passenger seat to look at you.

It's a simple plan. Straightforward like always. You three are a team. There's no reason to let yourself get worked up over nothing.

"We're going to be right across the street. We'll be watching you." Your younger best friend tells you calmly and you look up at both of them before nodding.

"Okay. Let's gank this bitch then." You whisper before opening up the car door.

The gentle chill that blows through the breeze assaults all of your limbs as you stand on the street corner.

You watch Baby do a U-turn before the car shuts off. Dean is watching you like a hawk, eyes narrowed as he picks some skin off his bottom lip.

His gaze is comforting and you take deep breaths as you pace back and forth.

"She looks nervous." Sam comments to his older brother as he angles his head to watch you.

"Yeah. She's waiting for a weird pervert ghost. You'd be nervous too if you were her." Dean answers gruffly as his eyes roam your body.

"Why don't you guys just fuck already?" His younger brother asks as he brings his coffee cup to his lips.

"Excuse me?" His older brother's voice is deep and low, the threatening baritone creeping into his head and rattling his brain. Dean turns his head slowly to his brother with narrowed eyes.

The gaze sets something akin to nervousness in Sam and he gives an awkward chuckle combing his long hair behind his ear.

"I just...I mean… I can see the way you both look at each other." He says with a shrug.

"It's complicated. Don't worry about what me and Y/N do or haven't done." He mumbles before turning back to watch you continue to pace.

"I mean you guys have both liked each other since you guys met. And...Well, you guys always pretend like something between you both doesn't exist." Sam fumbles with his words.

Dean sighs as he pulls his flask out from the inside pocket of his jacket. Taking a swig, he rolls his eyes.

"I'm not talking about this right now, Sammy. All I do is talk about this shit to you, to Cas, to Bobby, even to Dad when he was still alive. I'm not with her because I don't fucking deserve her. I'm not going to ruin her life like I always do. So, shut the hell up." He barks out before cracking his neck.

Sam nods slowly as he presses his lips into a straight line, "Fine. I just think Y/N should be able to make those decisions for herself too. Y'know?"

"Shut up, Sam." The fraction of a second that this conversation has gone on, Dean's eyes left you for a minute.

When he turns his head back to the corner, you are gone.

"Goddammit!" He curses loudly, slapping the steering wheel harshly before shoving the door open and jogging across the street.

Nothing but the brisk chill of the evening is all Dean can feel. You're completely out of his sight and he puts his hands over his face.

"I'm sorry." Sam apologizes quickly as he joins his older brother.

"If anything happens to her…Fuck!" He curses as his head continuously turns in all directions.

Pulling out his phone, the younger Winchester begins to track the GPS on your cell phone, "I'll find her." Sam whispers nervously as he takes in his brother's broken form.

Dean can feel his heart clenching, his eyes are watering at the mere thought of you being in danger. How could he let you out of his sight?

He promised. He fucking promised.

This is like Marsh all over again.

Clutching onto the fabric of his shirt over his heart, his head lolls back at the pain and fear that encroaches upon him.

Dean and Sam weren't paying attention when Morley Rosmund came and grabbed you. That you knew for a fact. They were fighting. As per usual.

The second the man in olden clothes had touched you, your body felt cold and numb.

You could count on your hand the amount of times you've met a ghost this pissed.

You've done jobs by yourself before while your best friends were gallivanting and fighting with every Archangel known to man. This would just have to be one of those times where you suck it up and have to fend for yourself.

You couldn't rely on them always and that's perfectly okay. You can handle yourself, you're strong and capable.

Ghosts with this angered of a spirit can travel only a certain distance away from their soul-bound item.

That seems to check out as you're pulled only a block away from that street corner. The office building is old and decrepit. There are many stop work orders on the face of the building as you're pulled inside.

Grimacing, you step over dead bodies and bones in the first floor hallway.

"This is my office." You hear Morley explain and your breath comes out in puffs of smoke as you wrap your arms around each other for warmth.

"Oh. Lovely." You murmur as the body of a woman around your age lays on the old, varnished desk.

Your hand reaches for your clavicle and you tug off the old coin pure iron from the necklace before pushing it down into the palm of your hand.

Your eyes glance around the office, trying to find anything that would be the key item for this man to still be bound here. You try to ignore the putrid smell of rotting flesh before the taller ghost is in your line of sight with a feral smile on his face.

His body shifts in and out of this plane of existence before solidifying once more.

"Get on the desk and spread your legs." He commands and you shiver at the roughness of his voice.

Clearing your throat, you sit on the corner trying your best not to touch the dead girl that's there.

"NOW!" The thin glass of the window shatters at his bellow and you swallow thickly as you raise your hand to his face.

Just the thought of touching this dead spirit is nerve wracking but you need to be able to get out of here. You know the building now, you just have to get away.

You press your hand to his face and he shimmers away with a yell. Closing your palm, you jump off of the desk hopping over dead bodies in the hallway. You're so close to the entrance door you can almost taste it.

But, Morley Rosmund is an old, angry ghost. Just as quickly as he vanished, he reappears.

Your breath hitches in your throat as he blocks the doorway and you go to throw the old iron coin at him. Before you can even let the coin slide out of your hand, you're in the air.

Your body travels backward against the wall with a loud thud and you crumple in on yourself with a whimper. You can taste blood in your mouth, can feel your body aching and bruising all over as the ghost advances on you.

Dean is mumbling to himself as he rummages through the trunk.

Hearing glass shatter in the distance, his head jolts up.

"You hear that?" He asks his younger brother as he grabs his sawed off shotgun.

"Yeah. I got her location. She's not far." The words put gusto into his bones as he rapidly grabs the rest of the materials and weapons he will need.

Slamming the trunk shut, he hauls the bag over his shoulder before throwing a shotgun at his brother.

"Let's go then." He says quickly, ushering Sam to get a move on.

Jogging down the block, it didn't take long for them to find the old, decrepit building you were housed in.

Peeking his head in Dean can see the strewn bodies on the floor, new and old.

"Oh Y/N." He whispers gently as he pushes the door open with the mouth of his gun.

The office door which is cracked and shattered reads 'Mund.' You must be in there.

Stepping over the dead bodies gingerly, the closer he gets to the office with his little brother behind him the louder your whimpers and grunts of pain become.

His jaw clicks and he can hear you cursing out the ghost like a proud sailor.

Kicking open the door, he takes in your half naked body for a fraction of a second before he's shooting the gun at the ghost. The rock salt blasts through Morley Rosmund and he's gone within seconds.

"Hey. Hey. I got you." He whispers as he jogs over to you.

You whimper loudly, holding your arms out like a frail child and his heart breaks at the sight of you.

"I'm so fucking sorry." He says as he picks you up. Your skin is already bruising and deepening in color as he coddled you to his chest.

"We gotta go!" Sam yells as more glass begins to shatter in the office.

Dean buries your face into his neck as he steps over strewn debris and body parts. You can hear him whispering kind, gentle words in your ear and you practically jump out of your skin as Sam shoots the gun behind you.

"He's one angry son of a bitch." Dean growls as he kicks open the front door.

Stepping down the stairs, the brisk chill of Autumn assaults your half naked body and you groan loudly as Sam shoots the gun once more before closing the front door of the building.

Sammy throws his jacket over your body as Dean jogs back to the Impala with fast feet.

"Did he hurt you? Where did that sick son of a bitch touch you?" The venom in his voice is almost intoxicating to listen too.

"I'm okay." You whisper as he opens the back door of the Impala without a word.

Throwing the keys to Sam, the younger brother clears his throat uncomfortably. Dean sits in the back of the car with you, he pulls your upper body onto his making sure Sam's jacket is covering your body.

You're still aching and feeling the pain all over but it's also a soft comfort that creeps over your body as Dean runs his fingers through your hair.

"De?" You whisper as your eyes flutter closed.

"Hmm?" He asks, lowering his head to hear you clearly.

"When I feel better, I'm going to kick your ass for leaving me alone." You threaten before grimacing and putting your hand to your chest.

His face shifts above you, as if he's been stabbed or shot. Your words cut him to the quick and he can barely nod.

"I would expect nothing less, Candy girl."

You ended up in Dean's bed again that night, which was becoming more of a regular thing than you cared to admit. But, against all of your better judgement, you were okay with it.

You were finally sound asleep when Dean uttered his first words of the evening.

"I'm so sorry." He whispers as he turns towards you.

Your lips are parted, hair splayed over your face as you take shallow breaths during your sleep.

Turning his head to make sure his brother is sleeping, he curls his arm around your form. His thumb grazes gentle circles on your forearm as he watches you sleep.

"I'm so caught up in what to do around you, what to say, how to hide my feelings… It's all getting to be too much for me." He mumbles more to himself than to you.

"I shouldn't have taken my eyes off you tonight. I'm sorry I didn't pay more attention. I don't know what I would have done if you got hurt because of me. God…" His voice is deep and pained. A tear threatens to spill over as he hangs his head.

This would be about the time where he grunts angrily and drinks a beer but he can't leave your side. Not for a minute.

"I'm getting sick and tired of not having you as mine. Really fucking sick of having to push you away because I'm too goddamn stubborn to do anything about it." He sounds breathless by the end of his monologue. Laying his head down on the pillow, his thumb drifts over your cheekbone once more.

"Then don't be stubborn." You whisper before turning over and facing the window.

Your older best friend's eyes widen and he clears his throat before rubbing at his face roughly with his left hand.

"I didn't...I didn't know you were awake." He whispers as you open your eyes.

You watch as soft grey clouds drift past the large moon that looms over the motel.

"Kind of hard to sleep when your best friend is spilling out his soul to you." You retort quietly, your fingers pull at a frayed string of the comforter that lays over your body.

"So...you heard me?" He asks nervously.

Oh. You heard it all.

Destiny Is Heaven Sent Taglist: @roonyxx, @deans-baby-momma

Forever Dean Tags: @akshi8278

#dean winchester #dean winchester smut #dean x reader #dean x you #destiny is heaven sent #SPN Book #SPN #spn fam #SPN series

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goodomensblog · 4 years

Text

Afterward - Part 15

A Good Omens Choose Your Own Adventure Fic

Here’s how it works:

I’ll write a scene.

At the end of each scene, you’ll be presented with 2-3 options for what the characters will choose to do next.

Comment or reblog to vote for your choice. I’ll count all votes after the first 24 hours after each update is posted.

Read: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 12, part 13, part 14

(#3 wins because y’all love chaos, don’t you? Totally understandable. I love it too.)

Afterward - - - Part 15

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

Beelzebub, lord of flies, master of tyrants, patron of demon worship, and prince of Hell, is having, by their own estimation, a pretty shit day.

“I think I’d honestly rather die,” Beelzebub groans, as Crowley hauls them impudently up onto his skinny back.

“I’m saving you, you ungrateful lump of flies, whether you like it or not.”

And Beelzebub, who is having the unfortunate realization that they are too weak to so much as wriggle their way out of this humiliating position, settles for flopping over the demon Crowley’s shoulder in such a way that the black, clotted blood dribbling out of their mouth splats grotesquely down the front of Crowley’s shirt.

“Thank you. Thanks for that,” Crowley says, grabbing underneath Beelzebub's legs to hike the demon a little higher on his back.

“Welcome,” Beelzebub replies, and more blood dribbles out.

Snatching the jar of Hellfire from the table, Crowley clutches it to his chest. With his other hand scooped behind Beelzebub’s leg to keep them in place, he kicks the door open and prowls, piggy-backing Beelzebub, prince of Hell, into the halls of Heaven.

Beelzebub, bouncing with Crowley’s every loping step, has closed their eyes. Head lolling forward, they’ve half given into the encroaching darkness, when Crowley’s annoying, incessant mutterings drag them back into full consciousness.

“-now for this to work, I’ll just have to-”

The jar lid pops open. Hellfire leaps up, red flames lapping at the edges of the jar and the nearby grasping fingers. Beelzebub can feel it - the rich, tantalizing heat, and slumps forward, breathing in the fire’s acrid scent.

Crowley carelessly drops the jar, and it clatters across the floor as eager flames wrap around the demon’s wrists; they twist, winding up and around his forearms. It’s at that point that Crowley resumes walking. He does nearly trip over the dropped jar, but manages to stay on his feet with a skip and a hop.

With each step, Crowley mutters sibilant syllables beneath his breath. They are rich as velvet, coaxing the fire with ancient, saccharine promises.

Beelzebub is generally repulsed by Crowley, but not enough to resist perching their chin on Crowley’s shoulder when the first flickers of flames slide over Beelzebub’s dangling arms. They sigh, going limp with relief as revitalizing flames sink into their skin.

Crowley continues walking and chanting and only stumbling occasionally. And Beelzebub hates Crowley, they really do, but they have to admit - he’s not bad at coaxing Hellfire. Beelzebub can feel the healing warmth of the flames sinking into the marrow of their very being.

“You awake, Lord Buzziest?” Crowley asks, hiking up Beelzebub from their slowly sliding descent down his back.

When Beelzebub opens their eyes to a completely unfamiliar hall, they have the abrupt and horrifying realization that they had indeed drifted briefly to sleep. While being piggy-backed, no less. Would the humiliations never cease?

“Of course I’m awake,” Beelzebub grouses, digging a bony knee into Crowley’s side. “And no nicknames.”

“Alright, alright,” Crowley says, hands up. “I’ve given you all the Hellfire, by the way. Is it working?”

Beelzebub straightens up, pressing a hand against their chest. Eyes closed, they draw a long breath in. Breathing out, they tip their head from side to side, cracking their neck.

“Yeah,” Beelzebub answers, fingers splayed across dry, cracking blood. “Starting to.”

They hadn’t expected the Hellfire to make them good as new, but it has at least kick-started the process. Beelzebub can feel the infernal energy within themself stirring, slowly mending what had very nearly been irreparably broken.

“I’m looking for Aziraphale, or Gabriel - or I guess, really anyone,” Crowley says, the tension in his voice embarrassingly undisguised. “They’re not where I expected them to be. At least based on the earlier racket.”

Beelzebub’s lip curls in disgust at the emotional display, but nonetheless closes their eyes, spreading their awareness wide.

Heaven is... not exactly what Beelzebub remembers. Not that they remember much. But somehow, in those blotchy, indistinct recollections, it is brighter, louder, warmer. Safe.

And there definitely wasn’t a malignant, pulsing thing in the central courtyard.

“The thing is in the innermost courtyard,” Beelzebub says, opening their eyes. “Don’t know if your stupid angel’s with it.”

“Alright then,” Crowley replies, and promptly sets off in that direction.

He’s halfway down the corridor before Beelzebub fully processes the significance of Crowley’s unilateral decision.

“Hey! Hey! Hold up!” Beelzebub says, weakly digging their heels underneath Crowley’s ribs. “I don’t want to go near that thing. Put me down!”

Crowley doesn’t slow. “Can you walk on your own yet?” he asks, yellow eyes rolling up behind his dumb glasses.

The tingling ache in Beelzebub’s extremities suggests they probably cannot. It’s infuriating and humiliating and Beelzebub wants to die.

Crowley takes their silence as an answer. “Guess you’re tagging along, then,” he says with a grim smile.

“I hate you. With the entirety of my being.”

Whistling, Crowley walks faster.

As they approach the courtyard, the air begins to feel heavy, and it tastes - tart, cloying, rotten. Beelzebub’s lips curl back, and they warily suck the air between sharpening teeth.

“Demon Crowley,” Beelzebub orders, fingers curling over his shoulders as their sharp gaze scans from left to right. “Go slowly.”

Crowley, for once in his miserable existence, listens. Rolling through his steps, he prowls cautiously into the courtyard.

It’s exquisite - if you’re into uninspired pale flagstone and modern, geometric looking decorative fountains. The bodies on the ground don’t at all fit with the aesthetic.

The Archangel Gabriel is slumped over the edge of the fountain, golden blood sliding down his arm, dripping into cloudy water. The second figure is crumpled closer to the center of the courtyard - as though they’d put themselves between the archangel and whatever had been attacking him. The second one, though further away and also face down, is obviously Crowley’s angel - Aziraphale.

Crowley makes a pitiable, strangled sound, and Beelzebub just knows he’s going to charge out into the courtyard. Nails shifting to claws, Beelzebub digs them into Crowley’s shoulder.

“He lives, Crowley, I can feel the flicker of life from all the way over here,” Beelzebub hisses at his ear.

Beelzebub can feel Gabriel’s life as well, a bright flare of energy at the fountain’s edge.

“Do not rush in,” Beelzebub continues, clenching at cloth and skin, “Something watches from the shadows.”

Crowley stiffens at that. Head tilted, he slowly, carefully, pulls down his glasses.

“Who’s there?” he calls out.

Beelzebub shivers, the hairs on the back of their neck rising, one by one. Not daring to breathe, not daring to move, Beelzebub watches the space they know a creature waits.

At the courtyard’s edge, a figure unfolds itself from the shadows.

It is...an angel. The short, balding one. Sandalphon, if Beelzebub recalls correctly.

Beelzebub and Crowley watch as the angel Sandalphon strolls out of darkness. His pale, pudgy hands are folded in front of his stomach, and he narrows his eyes, chin tilting inquisitively up as he inspects them.

Crowley looks from that angel to his angel, and Beelzebub digs their nails deeper into his flesh. Do not move. Do not move, Beelzebub thinks, squeezing.

Sandalphon tilts his head and speaks. “The angels fought me. And then they ran from me. At least, they tried to.”

The voice that emerges from his throat is layered and ringing and it leaves Beelzebub with more than a passing inclination to shove their claws deep into their own ears, if only to make it stop.

“I thought I’d conquered all of Hell,” Sandalphon continues, lips quirking in puzzlement, “and yet here, in Heaven of all places, I find two unconquered demons wandering about.”

“Conquered?” Beelzebub growls, mind racing.

They’d fled Hell after Satan had gone mad and started attacking his Princes. At the time, everything had been a giant fucking mess, and Beelzebub had made a tactical retreat to recover. Hell had been chaotic, sure - but conquered?

Crowley cuts in before Beelzebub can say another word. “You’re not Sandalphon, are you?”

The thing smiles wide, revealing the angel’s ostentatious gold capped teeth. “I’m wearing Sandalphon. Just like I’m wearing Satan. And the demons and angels who weren’t quite quick enough.”

“Satan-” Beelzebub breathes, trembling. They’d thought he’d been bespelled. or some level of possessed, but this was - unforgivable.

“And God?” Crowley cuts in, voice sharp.

The thing tilts its head in a jagged, unnatural jerk. “She disappeared before I could get my hands on her, I’m afraid. Awfully cruel of her, I say, abandoning all of you like that. Though I suppose you two are rather used to it.”

“What the fuck are you?” Beelzebub snaps.

“Oh!” And the thing wearing Sandalphon like a second skin gives a start, “I didn’t introduce myself, did I?”

Sandalphon’s head dips forward. From the back of his neck, pale, twisting limbs unfold. Like spider’s legs, bent and folded back over themselves, they jerkily unfurl. There must be at least eight, and at the end of each limb, bony, clawed hands splay - reaching. The pale, sickly limbs spread out, lifting a creature which emerges from the back of Sandalphon with a frankly horrifying squelch. The thing is limpid and waifish, and watches them with black, eternity old eyes.

“Dear creatures of this poor, dying universe, you may call me Entropy.”

“Entropy?” Beelzebub hisses.

As Crowley says, “This universe?”

The thing smiles, and it’s mouth is a void. “Everything ends, honey. I hop from place to place, returning universes to the nothing from which they came.”

“Why?” Crowley asks.

“Why not?” the thing answers, void smile spreading across the lower half of it’s narrow face.

And then Crowley is unhooking Beelzebub’s arms. When he lowers them down, Beelzebub hates how their legs, still embarrassingly weak, give out beneath them. Teeth gritted, Beelzebub kneels on cold flagstone.

Crowley steps away, turning toward the abomination of limbs and hands.

“Demon Crowley?” Beelzebub calls when he takes a careful step forward.

“Gonna get Aziraphale,” Crowley says, soft.

The thing - Entropy - looks down. Round eyes unblinkingly survey the courtyard.

“Aziraphale,” it says, singing the name in that horrifying voice. “Is he the soft looking one? He did put up a formidable fight.”

“I’m taking him with me,” Crowley says, low and dangerous.

The thing laughs and it’s so awful Beelzebub has to physically refrain from flinching back. “No. No you’re not,” it says, and laughs again. “He’s strong. And I need the strong ones. I like wearing them best. And if I’m not careful, even the strong ones-”

The clawed hands encircling Sandalphon squeeze. Within moments, black cracks are crawling ominously over the angel’s form. The air begins to whine. Then, with a pop the angel’s form folds in. He shatters into a cloud of black and gold dust that falls silently to the floor.

“Oops,” the thing exclaims.

Beelzebub and Crowley stare, mouths open and the pile of angel at the creature’s feet.

That kind of power is...Beelzebub can’t conceive of it. Not that they have time to try. Before the last Sandalphon dust speck has fallen, Crowley launches into motion.

“Shit,” Beelzebub breathes, because this is not a fight any angel or demon can win.

Crowley gets to Aziraphale before the creature does, but he only just has time to drag Aziraphale aside before a clawed hand spears down, piercing clear through the stone tile. Crowley, scrambling, drags Aziraphale back, avoiding a second stabbing hand.

“Move faster you idiot,” Beelzebub shouts.

“Trying to,” Crowley yelps, yanking his angel another several feet back, barely avoiding the third strike.

He’s not going to make it, Beelzebub realizes with a sinking certainty. Crowley has always been a slippery one, but this thing - this Entropy - is like nothing Beelzebub has ever encountered. It has the strength to casually turn an angel to dust, and Crowley was half-exhausted when they entered the courtyard.

Beelzebub should get the hell out of here - while the Entropy creature is preoccupied with Crowley.

Bracing their hands on cold stone, Beelzebub, rises on shaking legs. Their legs burn - and not in the good way. Clenching their jaw, Beelzebub sways, remaining determinedly upright. They take an unsteady step back, away from the chaos in the courtyard.

Behind them, Crowley screams.

Beelzebub, shaking with effort, looks back.

Crowley is on the ground, one leg speared by the creature’s clawed fingers. He’s pushed Aziraphale behind him as the creature, balanced on pale, spindly legs, rises above them both. It’s speaking, void-black mouth stretched in that wide, unsettling grin.

“Poor, poor demon,” it croons, and presses the claw deeper. “Abandoned by God. Left to rot in Hell. And then you didn’t even fit in there did you? What kind of outcast doesn’t even fit in with the outcasts?”

The claw twists and Crowley gasps.

Beelzebub closes their eyes, clenching aching muscles in an effort to remain upright. If they are going to escape, it’s now or never.

“I do want the angel,” the creature says, it’s porcelain face looming over Crowley, “but don’t you worry demon - I’ll mercifully end your miserable existence.”

Beelzebub moves.

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

A creature calling itself Entropy is revealed! It seems to have plans to end this universe, and has already single handedly conquered both Heaven and Hell (yikes). Entropy intends to use Aziraphale and to kill Crowley, and Beelzebub is left with a choice. Beelzebub will…

Fight. Mustering their remaining strength, Beelzebub will show this Entropy abomination the hell a real demon is capable of raising. It’s not that they care about Crowley (or his stupidly nice angel)….they just don’t want to feel like they owe him.

Flee. Beelzebub is a survivor. They are injured and weak and they are not about to enter into a fight they have little hope of surviving. Sorry Crowley….it’s nothing personal. (Note: this will result in an immediate POV shift)

Please comment or reblog to vote! :)

(also, I absolutely love all of you who have been taking the time to explain the reasoning behind your votes. It’s always interesting to see where you all are coming from!)

Part 16

#my writing #choose your own adventure #choose your own adventure fic #good omens #ineffable husbands #ineffable partners #ineffable husbands fic #ineffable husbands fanfiction #multi-chapter fic #good omens beelzebub #good omens gabriel #Aziraphale #crowley

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harrysgloves · 4 years

Text

Trouble (chapter 5)

>>>Catch up with master list here!<<<

word count: 2.2k

story summary: You’re nothing but trouble and Harry can’t help the fact that he wants a taste.

warnings: Language // Drug Use

chapter summary: You and Harry go to a party

a/n: Everyone can thank my depression for the slow ass updates. Not sure if I’m keeping this series or not but I have it like half done so might as well. Anyways cheers to the drama

>>><<<

After a long week of boring classes, you were so happy for Friday night to finally be here. You were already dressed up and ready to be at the party that everyone else was already at. Dragging the protesting Harry behind you by his hand as your Doc Marten's hit the sidewalk pavement with determination.

"Could have worn a shirt t'the party at least." He groaned behind you. You could hear the pout across his beautifully annoying face as you rolled your eyes.

"Told you already, all the guys' will have their shirts off. Stop bitching." You pulled him harder by the hand forcing him to walk beside you.

"Better let me paint you fo' makin' me walk 'round naked across campus." His arm snaking around your shoulders that cheeky smile on his face as he peered down at you.

"You just want to touch me again." You said, rolling your eyes. A small smile curling at the corner of your lips as your face heated. You couldn't even deny that you wanted him to be close to you again.

"Got me there, love." He teased as you both finally made it to the frat house the party was at.

The sea of people inside the house was slowly starting to flow outside onto the front porch. People, mostly drunk girls, sitting on the lawn, giggling as you passed them. More like as Harry passed them.

"You're hot shit, Styles." You teased as you made your way through the tightly packed entry area.

He rolled those memorizing green eyes at you as you picked out a few paints you wanted to use and paintbrush for both of you. Your hands lingering over the paint bottles as you mentally tried to figure out what you were going to paint on him.

"Me first?" He asked when you finally turned back around, that annoying smug smile back on his face that made you want to kiss him and slap him at the same time.

"Knock yourself out. Just don't get it on that top, yeah? It was expensive." You said as he dipped the brush in paint. You had to brace yourself for how cold that shit was about to be across your skin. Berating yourself silently for not drinking beforehand.

"That was expensive? Half y'tits are hangin' out." He said, laughing when the cold-ass paint first touched your skin, making you jump slightly.

"Hey. It's called being sexy, look it up." You gestured to your outfit which consisted of your tightest pair of black high waisted shorts with fishnets underneath and a white crop top that, yes, showed the bottom of your breasts.

"Pretty sure my picture's next t'the definition 'f sexy, darlin'." He said, his eyes connecting with yours briefly before going back to work on whatever weird design he was painting on you. Which were mostly random swirls and a few flicks of the paintbrush here and there.

Of course, it wouldn't have mattered what the hell he was painting on you. He was so close to you his hot breath was tickling your skin every time he exhaled. Warming up the cold paint within seconds of it being on you.

You felt like your skin was crawling. Wanting so desperately to grab him and kiss him right then and there but you refrained yourself. Trying to reminding yourself that being like that with him again would only add on to the confusion running rampant in your brain.

His fingers brushing against your skin pulled you out of your thoughts. He quickly wiped away the paint from an area close to your hip bone that he messed up. Tingles running down your spine from such a stupid fucking touch made you want to pull your hair out.

At this point, it was just pathetic. Every time he touched you or you even looked at the damn guy you wanted to jump his bones.

You bit your lip as he finished up, all those pesky thoughts still floating around your brain of how he touched you the last time he was with you as he held up the brush once he was done.

"Make it good, yeh?" He said with a smile as you rolled your eyes, your hand snapping the brush out of his hand making him laugh slightly.

"Eyes up." You said, dipping the brush in paint, not wanting him to watch you at work.

"Oh no, you'll paint a dick across me if I do that." He said, backing up slightly as the paintbrush inched closer to his exposed stomach.

"I will not." You held up your pinky finger for him that he reluctantly took after silently debating with himself if he trusted you or not, idiot should have known better.

You smiled sweetly as you bent down in front of him. Looking up to make sure he was actually looking away from you when you first touched the brush to his skin.

"Fuckin' hell that's cold." He hissed, backing away from you. Making you mutter how much of a baby he was being as you pulled him back to you by the back of his thighs.

The smile not leaving your face as you wrote across him. Biting your lip to stop yourself from the giggles wanting to slip passed before standing up and telling him you were done. His eyes traveling down his stomach before a very amused look being shot at you.

"Wanna try it later then if y'think it's so great?" He said a cocky smile across his face at the words Fun Ride written fight above where his pants sat.

"Have fun!" You said starting to turn around before swinging back towards him. Your arms around his neck as his hands held your hips, trying to balance himself as you kissed the side of his cheek.

"There, now you're done." You said pulling away from the confused Harry. A perfect outline of your neon lipstick shining bright in the blacklights as you turned with one last wave to him, disappearing into the crowd.

>>>

It took you less than 30 seconds to find who you were looking for. Your arms going around her waist as you hugged her back tightly against you.

"God, it's a good thing it's you and not some fucking pervert. I was ready to throw my drink on someone." Rose grumbled before turning around to hug you back.

"Nope. Just regular old perverted me." You smiled, taking the drink from her hand and downing it in one gulp. Throwing the now useless cup into the crowd of people.

"Hey! I was drinking that." She whined, making you roll your eyes at her as you took her hand, dragging her through the house towards the kitchen.

"Yeah, well, I don't do cups." You said, throwing open the cabinets that you knew a little too well and grabbing a bottle of vodka.

"How'd you know that was there?" Rose asked as you turned around. A small shrug of your shoulders as you untwisted the cap, taking a drink before handing it to her.

"Fucked the head frat guy douche bag last semester. Found out all their dirty secrets." You smiled as she handed you back the bottle after taking a small sip for herself.

"Of course you did." She said as another arm was thrown over her shoulder, making her look up.

"What's up, ladies?" Finn said with a huge smile on his face as he took the bottle out of your hands taking a large drink from the now half-empty bottle.

"Well, we were having a good time before you showed up." You snatched the bottle back from him making him pout slightly at you. The dumb dork was cute in his own ways but oh so annoying.

"You ditching my boy again, Y/N?" That annoying smile across his face as you took a very long drink from the bottle. The burning sensation washing down your nerves about everyone finding out about your stupid damn obsession with Harry.

"Probably." You shrugged as he tsked you, clicking his tongue.

"Dunno why he's got the hots for ya pretty bad."

"That's exactly why then." You said, taking another drink before handing it to Rose who was not impressed at all with your response.

"You're so stupid. Just go hang out with him. You two would get along really well." She shook her head at you, taking a drink from the bottle before handing it to Finn.

"Yeah! What she said."

"Mhhh, no thanks." You said, your eyes scanning the room briefly before they landed on the tall British fucker in question.

An unfamiliar pit in your stomach forming at the sight of his hands wrapped around the back of some random brunette's neck with his tongue shoved down her throat. You rolled your eyes pointing your friends in his direction with your stare.

"Think he's getting on just fine. Let's dance." You said, finishing off the last of the bottle in Finn's hand and slamming it down on the table.

Really, for as much as you bitched about Harry. You had no right to feel any sort of way about him with someone else. You shook the thought away desperately reminding yourself that you didn't give a single fuck about what he did.

It was strictly physical.

And more importantly, you didn't do anything beyond sleeping with someone.

Ever.

Your hand wrapped tightly around Finn's as you dragged him out to the dance floor. Rose followed shortly behind you two until her very annoying girlfriend interrupted your fun, dragging her away for you.

"That bitch fucking hates me." You said, rolling your eyes as you squeezed through the crowd of people.

"Yeah, well, the British asshole is going to hate me if I dance with you." Finn said as you turned around to face him, your arms around his neck with a small smile on your lips.

"When have you ever cared about that?" You asked, peering up to him as he shrugged slightly. His arms around your waist pulling you close into him.

"Think Harry might actually punch me. Better make it worth it."

"I make everything worth it." You teased, leaning up on your toes to connect your lips with his.

You wished those same types of fireworks happened with Finn, that did with Harry, but it didn't. Your mouth moving slightly out of sync with each other, not working in that magical rhythm that cheeky thick accented fucker managed to know how to do so perfectly.

Yes, it was still a good kiss. And maybe a few weeks ago it would have felt amazing, but now, after Harry, it was just average at best.

"God, you really do like him, don't you?" Finn said when he pulled away from the kiss.

His dark brown eyes filled with a spark of teasing making you huff as you leaned back from him. Shooting him a glare before it faltered from your face. There wasn't a point in lying to him. He could tell from that simple kiss that you definitely had someone else on your mind.

"Trying to not like him." You sighed, laying your head against his chest. Hating yourself for how you felt and how much you really didn't want to feel that way towards him.

Wanting to persevere yourself from any sort of heartbreak happening in the future.

"Dunno why he's not that much of a prick." Finn said as his hand rested against your hair, trying his best to comfort you. Knowing what it was like himself to hate emotions.

"Let's just say it's in the best interest of everyone involved. Let's just forget it. Yeah?" You said, pulling back slightly looking at the very confused Finn. His eyebrows pulled together tightly as he stared down at you.

"Fine." He said, eventually giving up playing the role of matchmaker for the night. His hands reaching in his pockets, pulling out a clear bag with a few pills in it.

"Wanna forget about it? Let's do it the right way then." He held up the small bag in front of you like it was a bag of candy. Shaking the pills back and forth slightly.

"Knew I liked you." You said, reaching up, taking the bag out of his hand and placing a kiss on his cheek.

"Just doing what I do best. Helping people avoid their problems." He said with a smile as you handed two round white pills to him and took two for yourself.

Quickly shoving them down your throat, swallowing them dry. The slight stinging in your throat as they went down causing you to cough before looking back at Finn who didn't even flinch as he took them.

"You're too good at that." You said, rolling your eyes as your arms went back around his neck.

"One of my many specialties." He smiled, hands on your hips bringing you close to him as you started to sway lightly back and forth. Turning around to press your bottom against him.

Determined to forget all those wonderful thoughts of Harry as you lost yourself in the music. The mystery pills taking the edge off your emotions as you danced tightly against Finn. Praying that in the morning those green eyes would be just a distant memory.

#Harry Styles #Harry #Harry Styles x Reader #Harry Styles x You #Harry Styles x Y/N #Harry Styles Fanfiction #Harry Styles Fanfic #Fanfic #Fanfiction #Writing #Mine #Trouble

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soobiniebaby · 4 years

Text

Angels & Devils Part XIII : Just Stay

Tomorrow x Together Fanfiction

~ p a r t s : main post || prologue || part 1 || part 2 || part 3 || part 4 || part 5 || part 6 || part 7 || part 8 || part 9 || part 10 || part 11 || part 12 || part 13 || part 14 || part 15 || part 16 || part 17 ~ p a i r i n g : love triangle involving choi soobin and choi yeonjun ~ g e n r e : high school au | some social media au | some fluff & angst | childhood friends | love triangle ~ l a n g u a g e : English ~ w a r n i n g : contains swearing, alcohol, kissing (?) and may contain mature themes (angst, etc.) ~ a / n : This will be my first fanfic (go easy on me pls) and i’m just writing this as I go along, so bear with me juseyo The setting (place/country) of the story is up to the reader’s interpretation ~ s u m m a r y : What should she choose? Han Baby: the new girl with a troubled past MO Academy: her new high school Choi Soobin: student council president, member of the Ecosave club, volunteer at the Humane Treatment of Animals, member of the Honor Society, a vocalist in the Jazzed club, the school’s all around golden boy Choi Yeonjun: leader of the Dance club, star of the Jazzed club, the school’s it boy with a bad rep 5 best friends, 1 new girl, 1 childhood friendship, 1 epic love triangle? What will this school year bring?

Choi Yeonjun didn’t know when to stop, which was one of his greatest strengths, but now he knew that it could very well be his greatest weakness as well.

Once he had set his sights on something, he’d never stop until he achieved it. Take B for example, the moment he knew he wanted her, he didn’t let anything stop him from pursuing her until she finally said yes. For tonight, a goal he had unintentionally set was to keep himself on Kim Jisoo’s good side, as that’s what his father would have wanted. And because of that, ever since she had arrived at the club that night, he felt as if he had no choice but to follow along with whatever she wanted, even if that meant spending the night entertaining his ex girlfriend.

Park Rose was just as captivating and electrifying as he remembered her to be. Her fiery red hair was just as stunning as her jolting personality, which was one of the things that he had loved about her. She was exciting, even now he could never tell what was going through her mind or what unexpected words would spew out her mouth. She always caught him off guard, and the feeling on being kept on his toes just kept him wanting more.

Tonight was no different. He wanted to believe that the only reason he had been stuck by Rose’s side the whole night was because Jisoo had insisted that he hang around their group for the evening, but he knew that a small part of him was still captivated by Rose’s appeal. He knew that he could easily give Jisoo a plausible excuse to break away from her group, but a part of him didn’t want to.

Maybe it was the 5 rounds of shots that Jisoo ordered up for the group, or maybe it was the 3 glasses of Vodka Redbulls that he had consumed, but whatever it was, Rose felt too familiar, her rose scented perfume overpowering his senses as she leaned in close whenever she spoke to him, the way her laugh resounded above the noise of the blaring club music took him back to all the times she would laugh at all his lame jokes, the way she tilted her head back and laid a hand on his shoulder reminded him of how surprisingly gentle her touch was for someone who was so boisterous and loud, and the way she pouted at him when he refused her offer to dance with her echoed all the times she would pout at him in the past knowing that he would eventually give in and she’d get her way.

With the alcohol overpowering his system and Rose taking over his senses, he lets her pull him through the crowd until they were in the throng of sweaty bodies and booming music, and he watches as she whips her long red hair over her shoulder and starts to move around him. As she rests her hands on his shoulders and slowly moves closer towards him, moving her body against his, he’s reminded of the nights they spent with their bodies entwined and how he memorized every dip and curve in her skin like a map, causing his face to heat up at the memories.

As she notices the shift in his facial expression, she smirks, catching him off guard before grabbing his face and pulling down until their lips crashed together.

She kisses him hungrily, her lips moving fervently as her fingertips dug deeper into his skin, yet unlike the hundreds of kisses they shared before, this one tasted like bitter poison on his lips.

He instantly breaks away, pulling her hands off his body, as he looks at her in distaste. “What the fuck did you do that for?” he hisses.

She looks at him innocently, batting her lashes, before she shrugs. “I missed you, Junnie, and I know you missed me too.” She attempts to lay a hand on his shoulder but he shrugs her off, grabbing her hand and shoving it away.

“You haven’t changed at all, Rose.” he spits out. As he wipes his mouth and turns his back on her, his gaze meets a familiar pair of eyes from across the room, and he freezes, taking in the disappointed look on Soobin’s face, realizing that he had probably seen what just happened.

“Shit.” he says to himself, and as Soobin turns away and shakes his head, Yeonjun quickly darts across the room to meet him, trying his best to navigate through the crowd, keeping his eyes focused on his best friend.

“Soobin, wait.” Yeonjun finally says once he’s within earshot. “I need you to listen.” They’ve reached a less crowded and more quiet part of the club, by the bar, and Soobin had taken a seat on one of the barstools, running a frustrated hand through his hair before downing 3 consecutive shots of vodka. Yeonjun had never really seen his friend like this before.

“What, Yeonjun?” Soobin says, his face going sour as the alcohol slides down his throat. “Whatever it is you have to say, I’m listening now. But I have some things to say too, and when I start talking, you better listen carefully.”

Yeonjun takes a deep breath as he takes a seat beside Soobin, downing a shot of alcohol himself before looking him in the eyes. “I’m not sure what exactly you saw, but I’ll explain everything anyway. And I promise that I’ll listen to whatever you have to say too.” he begins slowly. “Kim Jisoo is here, as in Kim Jonghyun’s successor, the owner of the biggest Technology Firm in the country? Anyway, for as long as I can remember, my father has been very particular about staying on Jisoo’s good side for company relation purposes, and that means practically treating her like a VIP whenever I see her.”

He goes on to explain how Jisoo showed up with her friends and how Rose happened to be one of them, and about how the rest of the night had gone, up until the moment Rose pulled him in for a kiss and he cursed her out.

“Are you done now?” Soobin asks when Yeonjun finally stops talking. He had been quiet the whole time, staring at Yeonjun straight on as he absorbed every word that came out of his mouth. When Yeonjun nods, Soobin sighs.

“Yeonjun, I need you to be honest with me here. I’m going to ask you some questions and I want you to really think about it before you give me any answers.” Soobin says, and after Yeonjun nods, he begins.

“First of all, do you still have feelings for Rose?” he asks. Yeonjun’s mouth opens to flat out say ‘no,’ but upon seeing Soobin’s look of disapproval, he pauses and tries to think really hard about it.

He couldn’t deny that he definitely still felt that familiar spark that he used to feel whenever Rose was involved, but he chalked it up to the fact that she just felt familiar and he just felt nostalgic. “To be completely honest, I definitely felt something when I saw her again, but that was just because I was so surprised after not seeing her for what 2 years?” he says.

Soobin raises a brow. “But you definitely felt something? What did you feel?”

Yeonjun lets out an exasperated sigh. “I don’t know, it felt…familiar? She felt the same, I felt like a spark but that doesn’t mean anything.”

Soobin’s brows furrow together. “A spark? That doesn’t sound like nothing, Yeonjun.”

“Trust me, whatever it was, it means nothing to me. Because she’s a lying, cheating, manipulative mess of a person and she can go to hell for all I care.” he said, trying to sound as convincing and as chagrined as he could, but after seeing her again, it felt weird to talk about her as if she were trash.

“Whatever you say.” Soobin says, sounding unconvinced. Yeonjun could tell that Soobin was trying to maintain his composure and trying to remain level headed, but the way he rolled his shoulders back was a dead giveaway that he was close to losing it. “And now for my second question.” he says, taking a pause.

Yeonjun raises a brow. “Yeah? What is it?”

“Do you…” Soobin begins, hesitating. “Do you love B?”

Yeonjun stopped breathing for a moment, the mention of his girlfriend knocking the wind out of his lungs, the guilt of realizing that she hadn’t even crossed his mind the whole time he was with Rose filling his gut. “Do I love B?” he repeats.

Soobin nods, and judging by how tight his jaw was clenched, Yeonjun knew that he had to consider his answer very carefully. But how could he ever admit that she hadn’t crossed his mind the entire time he was with his ex?

“What kind of a question is that?” Yeonjun exclaims. “Soobin, we’ve only been dating for a couple of weeks, I don’t know. How would I know?” Yeonjun was panicking, the words tumbling out of his mouth. “How do you even know when you’re in love with someone after just 2 weeks—” he sputters, until Soobin takes him by surprise and slams a fist on the countertop, making Yeonjun jump in his seat.

“God damn it, Yeonjun. What the fuck are you saying?” Soobin says, his voice dangerously calm but the words coming out like venom, making Yeonjun wince. “It’s either you love her or you don’t, and right now, it doesn’t sound like you do.”

“Soobin, come on! I can’t just decide whether I love her or not. But I think I definitely could be in love with her.” Yeonjun says helplessly. “I mean, she’s amazing. She’s beautiful, she’s perfect, she’s… one of the best damn things to ever happen to me.” he finishes. “And maybe I’m not sure if I love her right now, but I know that I would make a complete ass of myself if I let a girl like her go, so I could very well love her anyway.”

Silence envelops them then, the club music and party goers sounding distant, as Soobin stares at Yeonjun calculating his answers, until he finally says “She saw you, you know.”

“Who? Baby? She saw me what?” Yeonjun asks nervously.

“She said she saw the look on your face when Rose walked into the club earlier. I wouldn’t have believed her until I saw you actually talking to Rose.” Soobin sighs. “I don’t know if it’s cause she was wasted, because believe me she reeked of alcohol, but she was a blubbering mess, Yeonjun. She was devastated. If she finds out that you kissed Rose, it would kill her.”

Yeonjun’s face starts to pale. “Shit, she saw that? And she told you? How did she even know about Rose?”

“Yes, she apparently saw that and yes, she told me all about it. That’s not the point, Yeonjun. Now this is the part where you listen to me. Very carefully.” Soobin says, his authoritative I’m-the-student-council-president voice taking over. “B is in a very fragile state right now. She was a big mess, crying her eyes out on the floor of the broom closet, already questioning her self-worth, insecurities eating her alive. She told me that it hurt to see you with your ex.”

“She said all that?” Yeonjun says, the guilt weighing down his heart. “What else did she say?”

“Maybe it should’ve been you, Soobin.”

Soobin shook his head, trying to forget that segment of their conversation and everything that followed. “She didn’t say much else. But you know what I said? I told her that you would be a complete idiot to let something as insignificant as your cheater of an ex to fuck things up. But I guess I was wrong.”

Now that really hurt Yeonjun. He put a hand on his chest. “You know she’s the one who kissed me, right?” he says. “Yes, I talked to her and all that, but—”

“You cheated on her, Yeonjun.” Soobin says quietly, making him freeze.

“What did you say?” Yeonjun asks, his hands shaking now. “Are you calling me a cheater, Choi?” his voice raised. How dare he? “Maybe what I did wasn’t right, but you know what a real cheater does? A real cheater uses you and fucks other people behind your back, all the while making you think that everything is your god damn fault.” Just like Rose did, he thought to himself. “And that’s not me.”

“‘Maybe it wasn’t right?’ Yeonjun, you were with your ex for almost the whole night. You could’ve left any time you wanted to but you didn’t. What’s worse is that you felt something, you felt a spark while you were with her. And maybe the kiss wasn’t your fault, but the fact that you even gave her a chance to let it happen speaks volumes to me.” Soobin answers back, his breaths coming in heavy as he starts to lose his composure.

Soobin shook his head. “Forget it. It’s your relationship that you’re fucking up, not mine. You believe whatever you want, tell B whatever you want, I’m staying out of it. But let me just say one last thing.” he says, standing up from the barstool. “You better not hurt her, Yeonjun.”

And with that, Soobin gives him one last meaningful look before downing another shot and walking away.

•°•

When Han Baby woke up the next morning, she was made aware of 3 things.

First, she was badly hungover.

She tried to open her eyes but the blinding lights glaring into the room were too bright for her dehydrated body to endure. She rolls over in bed and she immediately feels a wave of nausea shoot through her stomach as her whole world spins. She squeezes her eyes with her hands and stretches her arms outwards until they come in contact with something warm and soft and solid. A person.

Second, she was not alone in her bed. Surprised, she instantly turns her head to face whoever was sleeping in her bed, instantly regretting it when she feels the world around her spin once again, but an endeared smile instantly creeps into her face when she sees who the person was. It was Yeonjun, his blue hair standing out against her white sheets, one hand over his face and another resting on his bare chest, the blanket coming up to his stomach, which was lined with a subtle yet noticeable layer of muscles.

Third, Yeonjun was laying shirtless in her bed. And he had abs.

She felt her face heat up upon seeing so much of his bare skin and immediately peeked at the covers to see if she was still clothed, and sighed in relief when she saw that she was still wearing her dress from the night before. Once that was established, she takes a moment to observe her boyfriend, who looked like an angel with his glowing honey-tinted skin, his plump perfectly shaped lips slightly parted as he let out a few quiet snores in his sleep, making her giggle. She tries to recall the events that led up to having him sleep in her bed for the night, but nothing from the night before comes to mind.

What happened last night?

She remembered arriving at the club with Kai and walking in together with the guys, she remembered meeting Ryujin and Yuna inside, she remembered having a few shots with the group before someone suggested they play that Kiss or Tell game, but her mind was unable to conjure up images of anything that came after. Whatever happened, she figured it couldn’t have been anything bad since she woke up next to Yeonjun the night after his birthday party, and she was a bit curious and excited to find out how exactly it happened.

Remembering the date, she excitedly scooches closer to him, resting on her elbows as she leans over him and plants gentle kisses all over his face, from his cheeks to his forehead, to his nose and down to his lips.

Yeonjun lets out a noise, a sleepy grunt, before he runs a hand through his hair and slowly opens his eyes, surprised to see B looking down at him.

“Happy birthday, Choi Yeonjun.” she whispers, a bright smile on her face as their eyes meet. He smiles back at her, slowly and groggily, his eyes still cloudy with sleep.

He lifts a hand up and strokes her hair, savoring her radiant smile before gently pulling her towards him to let their lips meet once again. “And good morning to you, Han Baby.” he says, their lips still touching. When he feels her smile against his lips, he lets out a little laugh before pulling her in even closer, until she was lying down on top of him, the covers between their bodies. She lets her fingers roam, fiddling with the sheets until her hand comes in contact with the warm skin of his chest.

“Good morning to you, too.” she says, biting her lower lip to stop herself from smiling too much. “What are you doing here, birthday boy?”

He opens his mouth to respond, but his mind is unable to formulate an answer. As he tries to look back on the night before, he realizes that the last thing he remembers was welcoming Kim Jisoo and her friends, which happened to include his ex-girlfriend, into the club. He remembered hanging around them at Jisoo’s request and downing shots and drinking vodka, but after that, his mind went black.

His brows pull together as he responds “I’m actually not sure, the night is a bit of a blur to me, and there’s a lot that I don’t really remember.”

B sighs. “Maybe we can help each other fill in the blanks together? I tell you what I remember and you tell me what you remember?” she suggests, her fingers tracing circles over his torso.

“Are you drawing circles around my nipples?” Yeonjun asks, looking down at his chest where her fingers were. She immediately blushes and pulls her hands away, making him laugh. “Okay okay, let’s fill in the blanks together. What do you remember?”

B tells him about what she recalls, up until the game of Kiss or Tell. “After the game, I hardly remember anything. I think I went off with Ryujin and, knowing her, she’s probably the reason why I got blackout drunk.”

Yeonjun nods. “That sounds about right. I remember I was welcoming some people from my father’s guest list and I ended up tagging along with a few of them.”

“Oh? Which ones?” B asks, her fingers drawing random patterns on his skin.

“Kim Jisoo, heiress to the biggest Technology Firm in the nation. My father insists I treat her like a VIP every time I see her, so I practically have to kiss the ground she walks on. She brought a few friends with her, one of which…” Yeonjun hesitates, before taking a quick breath, “just so happened to be my ex.” he finishes.

B’s fingers freeze on his skin, her mouth snapping shut, as she tries to take in this information. She didn’t want to freak out over it, but a part of her had been insecure about Yeonjun’s past relationship ever since she found out about it. Everyone made it sound like such a big deal, her being his first love and all, and B’s curiosity got the best of her and she even ended up looking her up on social media and stalking her twitter account, which she instantly regretted because all it did was make her feel insecure about herself.

“Your ex?” B asks, trying to sound casual and unfazed. “Your first love, right?”

Yeonjun looks at her surprised and nods. “Yeah, how’d you know about that?”

“Ah, Ryujin and Yuna told me a bit about it. Her name was Rose, right?” B asks.

It felt wrong to hear her name come out of B’s lips, but he nods. “Yeah, Rose. She was with Kim Jisoo last night so I ended up seeing her too. I hope you don’t mind that I spent time with my ex last night.” he says. Granted, he didn’t remember much about what he did when he was with Rose last night, but that didn’t matter to him now.

B nods. “Yeah, it’s fine, I shouldn’t even care about it, I mean it’s your relationship.”

“It was my relationship, but not anymore.” Yeonjun looks at her and notices that she was deliberately avoiding her gaze. “Baby.” he says, trying to get her attention. When her eyes shift to the floor, he cups her face in his hand and gently rubs his thumb against her cheek. “Hey, Baby, look at me.”

She finally looks at him then, and it’s clear in her eyes that she definitely didn’t like the idea of him seeing his ex again. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t avoid seeing her last night. I didn’t know she was gonna be there. If it bothers you or makes you uncomfortable in any way at all, I promise I’ll never see her again.” he says, soothingly tracing her jaw now. He uses his free hand to hold hers and press it against his chest, right where his heart is.

“Do you feel this, Baby?” he asks, the gentle rise and fall of his chest accompanied by the inexplicable beating of his heart. “This is all yours, Han Baby. I am all yours. I promise.” he says reassuringly. She gives a small smile but bites her lip, and he can tell that she was resisting. He uses his thumb to dislodge her lower lip from her teeth, gently brushing it.

“Thank you, Yeonjun.” she says, finally giving him a genuine smile. She knew it might’ve seen strange, and she didn’t want to be that insecure or controlling girlfriend, but it was nice to see that he was making the effort to make her happy, and that was enough for her. “Now I have one question for you…”

Yeonjun raises a brow, wondering what it could be.

She grins. “What happened to your shirt?”

Yeonjun bursts out laughing, his chest rumbling below her, sending vibrations through the sheets. “I think we’ll have to figure out the answer to that together, Baby. You wanna have breakfast before my father inevitably summons me for some bullshit birthday dinner with my family?”

B nods, giggling and booping his nose. “Whatever you want, birthday boy.”

•°•

Turns out that Yeonjun ended up shirtless because someone (presumably B) had thrown up on his shirt, as evidenced by his shirt found discarded on her bedroom floor with puke stains all over. Neither of them could recall how they ended up in B’s bed together or anything else from the night before, but they didn’t mind.

They spent most of the day lazing around B’s apartment, grateful that Kai had conveniently recovered from the chicken pox and no longer needed to stay over at her apartment. Once Yeonjun had received a message from his father telling him to be home by 5PM and a text from his driver saying that he was ready to pick him up and waiting outside B’s apartment, it was time for him to go.

“Um, Baby, as much as I know you don’t mind me being in my shirtless state, I’m pretty sure that my parents would be highly concerned if I came home with a puke-stained shirt from the night before or with no shirt at all.” Yeonjun says after collecting his belongings.

“Oh, right. We probably should’ve washed your shirt when we got up this morning.” B says, slapping her forehead. “Wait, let me check my closet to see if I have anything you can borrow.” she says, opening her wardrobe.

Yeonjun chuckles. “Baby, you are aware of how adorably tiny you are, right?”

B huffs, looking through her cabinet. “I am well aware, thank you.” she says, quickly glaring at him before turning back to her clothes. “But I like to wear oversized clothes, so I might have something in here that could fit you.” she says, looking through the jackets and hoodies hanging in her closet, until she sees a big gray one that definitely looked like it could fit Yeonjun, or even big enough to look oversized on him.

“That looks like it would fit me. It looks like it would be a little too big on me, actually.” Yeonjun observes as B examines the big gray hoodie. “Wow, how big is that on you? It looks like you could wear it as a dress.”

“It goes all the way down to my knees, actually.” B whispers under her breath. “I, uh, I don’t think this hoodie’s any good. I know I have a button down here somewhere that would be perfect fit on you.” she says, quickly putting the big gray hoodie back in and rummaging through the clothes.

“What? Why not?” Yeonjun asks.

Because it’s Soobin’s, she thought. And at the thought of Soobin, her heart aches for some inexplicable reason.

“Because I haven’t really washed it, ah, here it is.” B says dismissively, taking out a plaid button-down shirt and handing it over to him. “I’m sure this will fit you perfectly.”

Yeonjun puts the shirt on and starts buttoning it up, his biceps straining against the fabric. “I’m not much of a plaid guy, but this will do.” he says, fixing the shirt up. “How does it look?”

B giggles. “I’m pretty sure it’s the girlfriend who’s supposed to be wearing the boyfriend’s clothes, but that shirt definitely looks better on you than it ever has on me.”

Yeonjun grins. “Guess we're breaking gender stereotypes then. Alright, you can wear my clothes anytime you want. And thanks, Baby.” he says, giving her a quick kiss. “I really have to go now, Hwall’s been waiting for me downstairs and I don’t think I can keep my father waiting any longer either.”

“It’s alright, Yeonjunie.” she says, rubbing their noses together. “I’ll see you at school tomorrow. Happy birthday.” she says again.

“Thanks, Baby.” he says, kissing her forehead, making his way down to kiss the tip of her nose, and finally her lips before pulling away. “See you tomorrow.”

And with that, she escorts him out of her apartment, watching him make his way down the building and waving him off as he gets into his car.

She sighs as she closes the front door behind her, laying a hand over her chest. Spending the day with Yeonjun was great, but she couldn’t stop thinking of that second of heartache she felt when she thought of Soobin, and how she felt the pain once again as soon as he popped into her mind.

What was that about?

•°•

“Soobin.”

“…”

“Soobin?”

“…”

“Soobin!”

After the third time, he couldn’t resist any longer. He sighs and plasters on a smile before turning to face her. “Hey B.” It was Monday, 2 days after the disastrous events that took place at Yeonjun’s birthday party, and he had been trying his best to avoid both of them. He didn’t know what Yeonjun had told B or how much B knew about what happened on Saturday night, but a part of him was surprised when the pair arrived at school together on Yeonjun’s new motorbike, which was a birthday gift from his parents. “What’s up?” Soobin adds, trying to push away all his thoughts and feign normalcy.

“What’s up? Are you kidding me? You haven’t said a single thing to me today and the first thing you say is ‘what’s up?’” B asks playfully, nudging his arm. That was true, he had gone the whole day without speaking to either of them, which had been easy enough since the 2 of them were practically in their own love bubble at lunch, making it easier for Soobin to stay away. It was currently their last period, their Creative Writing class, and Yeonjun had been pulled out of school for the afternoon by his father so he was absent, leaving B and Soobin alone.

“Technically, the first thing I said was ‘Hey B.’” Soobin returns with a playful tone. “Why? Is there anything you wanna talk about?” he asks a bit nervously. Knowing how wasted she was the last time he saw her, he was unsure about whether or not she remembered anything about their conversation in the broom closet, but he was hoping that she didn’t. Especially the part where he said:

“It’s not like I never liked you, because I did. And I still do.”

To his surprise and relief, B just shakes her head. “Nah, you just seemed a bit off today and I just wanted to know if you were okay. Is there anything you wanna talk about?” she asks.

Soobin’s smile suddenly felt very pained. He wanted to do his best to avoid them and stay out of their relationship, but why did she have to be so damn sweet? And why did she have to look so damn good? He always found her to be rather attractive, from the moment he caught her at the steps on the first day of school, but now she looked absolutely radiant. Her skin was glowing in contrast to her long dark hair, making the blush creeping into her cheeks and her plump pink lips stand out. She looked so beautiful it made his heart ache. “No, I’m fine, but thanks for worrying about me, B.” he simply says.

B raises a brow. “Are you sure? You’ve been looking mopey and sad all day.” she says, concerned. “This something happen? I haven’t heard from you or the other guys all weekend either, except for Ninging.”

Soobin shakes his head. “Nothing’s happened, everything’s fine.” he lies, but then he stops. He knew that something definitely happened and that not everything was fine, but she was acting too cheerful considering what happened last Saturday night. “What about you? How was your weekend? Did anything happen?” he asks, curious now.

“My weekend was nice. I woke up on Sunday morning hungover as fuck, but I woke up and Yeonjun was there in my apartment with me!” she laughs. “It’s actually really funny cause neither of us remember how we ended up together in my apartment. I guess we both got way too drunk last Saturday night. I don’t mind though, cause I got to spend most of Sunday celebrating Yeonjun’s birthday with him until he had to go. It was really nice.” B says with a happy smile on my face.

No way. Did she not know? “Oh that does sound nice. I can’t believe you got wasted last Saturday night though. How much do you remember?” he asks, wanting to know.

She bites her lip, trying her best to recall. “Honestly, not much. I only remember up until we played that Kiss or Tell game then we all sort of went our own ways. Ryujin dragged me along and I’m pretty sure we ended up doing shots, which is probably how I got so drunk. Other than that, the night’s a blank. Same goes for Yeonjun, though he did tell me that he remembered seeing his ex girlfriend there. You knew his ex, right?” she asks with wide curious eyes.

So Yeonjun didn’t tell her? “Yeah, I remember Rose. I can’t believe she was there. Did Yeonjun mention anything else? I mean, it must have been weird for him to see his ex again after 2 years.” he says, the kiss between Yeonjun and Rose clear in his mind and the confrontation that followed after still lingering in his thoughts.

B shakes her head. “I guess it was a bit weird but he didn’t mention anything, just that he ended up getting pretty drunk as well. And I know it sounds crazy, but to be honest, the thought of him seeing his ex girlfriend again makes me feel sick but he promised he wouldn’t see her again or do anything that made me feel uncomfortable. Isn’t he sweet?” she says, laughing.

No fucking way. He didn’t tell her. Now Soobin was mad, and he badly needed to keep himself together. He didn’t want to lose it, especially not in front of B, who didn’t seem to know anything. “Wow, that does sound sweet.” he says, trying not to let the bitterness creep into his tone.

B nods. “He really is.” she says dreamily. Soobin grips his seat tightly, his knuckles straining as he tried to keep his composure. How could Yeonjun not tell her? And how could she sit there and gush over him? The whole thing made him feel sick and he wished he never saw B crying in the broom closet or that he never saw Yeonjun kissing Rose, he wished he could be as blissfully unaware as B was, cause the whole thing was making his blood boil. He just wanted to get away from both of them, to follow Taehyun’s advice and stay as far away from their relationship as possible.

Just as he felt like he was about to combust, their teacher catches the class’s attention.

“Hello class. I can see that a lot of you have been making good progress with your social media project, but I have to say that over the weeks, I don’t feel like there’s much of a story in your posts. I’ve decided to extend your project up until the end of the term, and I’m sure you’ll all be happy to know that you’ll be stuck with your partners until then.” Sir Kim announces, sending the class buzzing.

B turns to Soobin with a big smile on her face. “Hear that, Soobin? Looks like we’ll be stuck together ‘till the end of the term.” she says excitedly.

Soobin gives her a pained smile in return. “Great.”

•°•

“Hey Baba, remind me I need to stop by your place to pick up my stuff.” Kai says as he munches on his egg tarts.

B nods. “Sure thing, Ninging. I already cleaned up the guest room and I left all your clothes folded neatly on the bed.”

It was after school and they were doing their usual hangout at Kang’s café, and Soobin felt like he was going out of his mind. He kept bouncing his knee under the table and shaking his legs, as if something were trying to crawl out of his skin.

Noticing this, Taehyun nudges his leg and raises a brow at him.

In response, Soobin decides to send him a text.

“Ah, my mom just texted me that she needs help lifting some things in the pantry. Soobin, can you come with me? I could use your help.” Taehyun says casually, finishing up his glass of lemonade.

Soobin nods and stands straight up. “Let’s go.” he says, making his way to the kitchen before Taehyun even got the chance to stand up.

Taehyun sighs, leaving the table and following after him. Beomgyu shoots him a confused look, but Taehyun just shakes his head in response, leaving Beomgyu at the table with B and Kai.

Taehyun leads the way into the pantry at the very back of the kitchen, letting Soobin in before locking the door behind him.

“Okay, we should be safe here. Now tell me, what’s wrong? Why do you look like you can’t breathe whenever you’re with B?” Taehyun says, folding his arms across his chest.

Soobin takes a deep breath. “Okay, remember when I found B wasted and crying her eyes out over seeing Yeonjun with Rose last Saturday?” he begins. Taehyun nods, urging him to continue. “Well, there’s more to it than just that.”

“What do you mean?” Taehyun asks. “You know, we still haven’t really talked about what happened last Saturday night, I was too busy to call you yesterday. I need you to tell me everything now.”

“Alright, so I saw B crying because she saw Yeonjun with Rose, she was an insecure wreck so I tried to comfort her and out of nowhere she says ‘Maybe it should’ve been you, Soobin.’” he says, holding up his hands to do air quotes. “So I was like, what’s that supposed to mean? Then she said that people have told her before that she and I would’ve been a good couple or something and then she says something like ‘maybe I should’ve chosen you, even though that wasn’t an option cause you never liked me’ and that’s when I ended up telling her ‘It’s not like I never liked you, cause I did, and I still do.’” Soobin says, groaning as he covers his face with his hands in shame.

Taehyun goes soft and lets out an “Aw, Soobin. That’s how you told her you like her?”

Soobin nods. “Yes, and I know I said that I wished she wouldn’t remember anything, and guess what, she doesn’t remember anything!”

“Isn’t that a good thing? Now you won’t have to clear the air with her about you whole ‘I like you’ confession.” Taehyun asks.

“Yes, but I mean she doesn’t remember anything. All she remembers is up until the end of the Kiss or Tell game and then getting drunk with Ryujin. She doesn’t remember seeing Yeonjun with Rose, she doesn’t remember how devastated she was when she saw them together.” Soobin say, running a hand through his hair.

“Well, that still doesn’t seem too bad. At least now she won’t feel bad about it.” Taehyun reasons out.

Soobin shakes his head. “That’s not all. After you and Gyu arrived and you kicked me out of the broom closet, I started wandering around the club, then I saw Yeonjun with Rose. It seemed fine at first, they seemed like 2 people catching up and having a good time, dancing in the club, but then she kisses him.”

Taehyun’s eyes widen. “Yeonjun and Rose kissed last Saturday night?” he says in disbelief. “When? How? Why?”

“I dunno, I think it was about 30 minutes after I left you and Gyu with B? And it was like I said, one minute they’re talking and laughing, then the next minute they’re on the dance floor, and next thing I know they’re kissing.” Soobin says. “Yeonjun pulled away, and that’s when he saw me and we had a little talk.”

“Wow, that sounds bad. Rose is such a bitch, I’ve always hated her. What did you 2 talk about?” Taehyun remarks.

“I sorta just confronted him about it. I gave him a chance to explain what just happened, I asked him if he still had feelings for Rose and he said he felt a spark or something, I asked him if he loves B and he didn’t seem to know. I told him that B saw him and Rose together and how messed up she was over it. I told him that he cheated on B, that even if Rose was the one who kissed him he shouldn’t have given her a chance to let it happen in the first place. And I told him that he better not hurt B. That’s it.” Soobin says, explaining the gist of their conversation.

“That’s, wow, that’s a lot to unpack.” Taehyun says, trying to absorb everything. “I think you do have a point about it being Yeonjun’s fault that Rose kissed him, he should’ve known and just stayed away from her instead of letting something like that happen. But don’t you think that calling him a cheater was a little bit harsh?”

Soobin shakes his head, looking tired. “Maybe, but it’s how I see it. First, he admits that he still feels a spark when he was with his ex, then he spends a big chunk of the night with her, then he ends up being kissed by her? All while his girlfriend is crying her eyes out just from the mere sight of them together? I don’t know about you, but for me, as long as you have feelings for someone, especially for your ex, while you’re currently in a relationship, it feels like cheating to me.” he explains. “And seeing B like that, I just… I don’t want to see her that hurt ever again.”

Taehyun nods. “When you put it like that, Yeonjun definitely sounds guilty. And I have to agree that seeing B like that really just makes the whole Yeonjun and Rose thing a lot worse.” he says. “But B doesn’t seem to be bothered or anything. She looks very happy.”

Soobin nods. “Exactly. And you wanna know why? It’s cause she doesn’t know anything. She doesn’t remember seeing Yeonjun and Rose together, she doesn’t remember being absolutely heartbroken over seeing Yeonjun and Rose together, and she doesn’t know that Yeonjun and Rose kissed. Yeonjun didn’t tell her.”

“Are you serious?” Taehyun says, his tone still calm. This was one reason why Soobin enjoyed talking to Taehyun, he was always so calm, empathetic, non-judgmental, and logical. He felt like he could talk to him about anything without worry and he’d listen or give great advice if you needed it. “Yeonjun didn’t tell her anything?”

“Well, she mentioned that Yeonjun told her about seeing his ex at the club and he told her that he’d never see her again if it made B uncomfortable, but that’s about it.” Soobin says. “He didn’t tell her about the kiss, and it’s either because he didn’t want to, or…”

“…or he doesn’t remember it.” Taehyun finishes. “Have you talked to Yeonjun about it?”

Soobin shakes his head. “I’m finally taking your advice and keeping myself as far away from their relationship as possible. Heck, I was determined not to speak to either of them anymore, until B started talking to me in our Creative Writing class while Yeonjun was absent. And of course, I’m stuck with her as my partner for the rest of the term.” he sighs. “But I don’t know how I can survive this, I don’t think I can stand to talk to her and smile at her after seeing her so heartbroken over something she doesn’t even remember, after seeing Yeonjun kiss Rose and her not knowing about it. I don’t know what to do.”

“That’s definitely a tough one, Choi.” Taehyun remarks, taking a moment to think it over. “Okay, I’m going to assume that Yeonjun isn’t a complete jerk and that he didn’t tell B about the kiss because he didn’t remember it. Is Yeonjun still in the wrong? Yes, because he put himself in a situation with his ex. But is it a problem? For now, no. Because neither of them know about it, neither of them are currently affected by it. It will become a problem if B finds out about it from someone else, or if Yeonjun remembers the kiss and doesn’t tell her about it.”

“So what are you saying? That there’s no problem here?” Soobin asks, surprised by Taehyun’s verdict.

“Oh, there’s definitely a problem, but I’m just saying that right now, that problem is dormant since neither of them know about it. I’m saying that there’s nothing to deal with yet, since the problem is still dormant.” Taehyun says. “For now, they’re basically living the whole ignorance is bliss thing. Assuming that Yeonjun doesn’t remember, neither of them know about the kiss, therefore it isn’t a problem.”

“So basically it’ll only be a problem if B somehow finds out about it or if Yeonjun remembers it?” Soobin asks.

Taehyun nods. “Correct. If Yeonjun does end up remembering it, the problem will depend on whether or not he tells B about it.”

“So what am I supposed to do? I remember it, I know about it, I saw it, I saw everything. I don’t know what to do.” Soobin says, looking as confused as ever.

“Soobin, if I were you, I’d just sit this one out. It’s gonna be hard, but for now, you’re just gonna have to pretend that the problem doesn’t exist. If you tell either of them what you saw that night, it could only cause bigger problems. My advice for you remains the same, just try to keep yourself as far away from their relationship as possible. That doesn’t mean that you should avoid them, just be their friend but draw the line when it comes to their relationship.” Taehyun says.

“So I just pretend that I know nothing. Got it.” Soobin says, nodding once for covering his face with his hands and letting out a loud groan.

“Are you good now? Come on, we better get back or they’ll start wondering what’s taking us so long.” Taehyun asks.

“Wait, you haven’t told me about what happened to you last Saturday night. You said you kissed your crush! Who is it? How did it happen?” Soobin exclaims, suddenly remembering.

Taehyun laughs. “Maybe another time, Soobin.” he says with a mischievous smile, unlocking the door before leading the way out of the pantry, through the kitchen, and back to the table.

•°•

“Alright, I have to be home in 15 minutes and I still have to drop by B’s place to pick up my stuff, so we have to go now or else Lea will kill me!” Kai exclaims, seeing the text from his older sister.

B laughs, patting him on the back. “Alright, let’s get going then! Lucky for you, I live right across the street.” she says teasingly. “Tyunnie, you wanna walk home with us?”

Taehyun smiles but shakes his head. “No, I have to stay and help clean up today. You guys go ahead and be safe.” he politely declines.

Kai shrugs. “Alright, you be safe too. See you tomorrow!” he says, grabbing B’s arm and practically dragging her along with him as he rushes out of the café.

“I should probably go too, I’ve got a lot of homework to do. Whoever said that senior year would be a breeze was full of shit.” Soobin groans, looking through the checklist of tasks he had on his phone. “Gyu, you need a ride? I can drop you off along the way.” he offers.

Beomgyu shakes his head. “Nah, I’m good. I’ve got a quiz tomorrow, so I think I’ll just stay here and study for a bit.” he says, taking out some notebooks and pens from his school bag and laying them down on the table.

“Wow, I never knew you actually studied.” Soobin remarks, causing Beomgyu to snort. “Good luck with that then, I’ll see you guys tomorrow.” he says, waving goodbye to Taehyun and Beomgyu.

For a while, the 2 of them sit alone at the table in silence. Beomgyu was reading through his notes, highlighting a few things along the way, while Taehyun sat across him, finishing up his 3rd glass of lemonade. As Taehyun’s glass becomes empty, he stands up and takes the glass with him. As he’s about to walk away from the table, he’s surprised when he feels someone grab his free hand, stopping him in his place.

He looks back and sees Beomgyu looking at him, his notes sprawled across the table, a sentence remained half highlighted as if Beomgyu stopped midway just to grab Taehyun’s hand before he left.

Which was exactly what he did.

“Yes?” Taehyun asks, turning to face the boy.

Beomgyu looks nervous for a moment, like he was doubting himself and as if he were starting to regret grabbing Taehyun’s hand, but then he takes a deep breath and says “Wait. Don’t go.”

“Why? I’m right here.” Taehyun says, raising a brow.

“I just—” Beomgyu starts, his breathe shaking as he looks down at his hand holding Taehyun’s before looking up at him again. “I think we need to talk.”

“About what?” Taehyun asks, even though he knew exactly what he meant.

“About last Saturday night.” Beomgyu says, his eyes closing as the memory crosses his mind for the millionth time. “About our kiss.”

Taehyun sighs. “Look, I already said it’s fine, you panicked and kissed me on the lips, it was just a stupid game, it was nothing.”

“You know that’s not the kiss I was talking about.” Beomgyu says, a different kiss on his mind. He remembered standing by the bar with Taehyun after game ended, laughing and apologizing about how he had panicked and kissed him on the lips. He remembered Taehyun telling him that it was fine and that there was no need for him to apologize. “And I didn’t panic.” He remembered taking a couple of shots with him, and they asked each other a question every time they took a shot. He remembered asking Taehyun if he minded that Beomgyu had kissed him on the lips, and he said no. He remembered Taehyun asking him if he wouldn’t mind doing it again, and he said no.

“I wouldn’t mind at all.”

“So go ahead and kiss me, Choi.”

He remembered downing another shot and saying “Oh, what the hell.” Before taking Taehyun’s face in his hands for the second time that night, looking deep into his eyes to see if he really wanted it, before leaning in and letting their lips touch once again.

“So, you wanna talk about it?” Beomgyu asks, the memory playing in his mind over and over again.

Taehyun smiles, his heart melting at how unusually vulnerable the usually confident Beomgyu looked. “Alright.” he says, bending down to take a seat at the table, not letting go of his hand. “Let’s talk.”

•°•

Author’s note:

I know it’s a little late :c and I’m sorry cause I’ll be a lot busier these days bc life is suddenly moving again :c but :c Happy Yeonjun day!

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thepandapopo · 4 years

Text

Absolute Truths

This idea wormed its way into my head and for the life of me I couldn’t get it out.

This oneshot is a little longer than the stuff I usually write (a whopping 8539 words), but I loved every minute of it. I tried editing it to the best of my ability, but honestly I suck at that. No beta, we die like Glenn. #SorryNotSorry #TooSoon ?

Please note this is non canon. The time frame for this is sometime after the Battle of Gronder post time skip and it is a mash up of the GD and BL routes (ie. Dimitri joins Claude and is no longer crazy; Rodrigue still dies. RIP).

Cross posted to ao3.

Pairing: Sylvain x Felix

Warnings: mentions of child abuse and PTSD

Synopsis:

When Felix and Sylvain get hit with a dark magic spell that reverts them back to children, the Resistance Army gets a deeper look into their bond and learn 5 absolute truths that form the foundation of their relationship.

5 undeniable facts of Sylvain and Felix’s relationship.

Word Count: 8539

“Felix!”

Fuck. Sylvain loses sight of him for only a minute but that is all the enemy needs to overwhelm the already bombarded swordmaster.

Pulling the reigns sharply to the left, the Paladin charges across the battlefield, skewering any unfortunate enemies that dare block his way, the lance of ruin glowing like a beacon of fury despite the thick coating of blood on it. The air is heavy with the smell of smoke and dark magic, making it hard to breathe and blurring the red head’s vision. Regardless, Sylvain presses on; determined to get to his best friend in time before the group of mages over the hill finish casting… whatever ominous looking spell they are aiming at Felix.

“Sylvain, get out of here!” Felix shouts angrily, not even pausing his fighting to face the sight of Bella charging her way through the throng with her master astride her.

Shit. Felix cuts down another enemy.

It is never ending. No matter how many falls to his blade, another two enemies take their place. Felix isn’t stupid – he can see the group of mages prepping a dark magic spell in the distance, which makes him even angrier when he spots Sylvain riding to his aid.

Like hell he’ll give his childhood friend another reason to toss himself into harms way. Felix isn’t weak. He doesn’t need protection. And he sure as hell doesn’t want Sylvain to be the one who gets hurt trying to fix his mistakes just because he got a little too cocky and split from the rest of his battalion.

“Fuck.” Felix grunts and pushes his sword hard to disengage the thief that has him in a sword lock. He doesn’t bother to see if he is being pursued and dashes towards Sylvain who is now dismounting a short distance away, Lance of Ruin making quick work of anyone who strays too close for comfort.

Sylvain was undoubtedly within hit range of the spell now. If that idiot insists on being his usual self-sacrificing self, then the least Felix can do is use his own body to shield the older man and take the brunt of the damage.

The tell-tale crackle of magic behind him sets the hair on his nape standing.

Shit. Shitshitshitshitshit.

He isn’t going to make it. Damn Sylvain for being so slow – this is exactly why he keeps telling him to take his training more seriously-!

“Fe!”

The last thing he knows before succumbing to the darkness is a hard chest plate knocking the wind out of him and warm, strong arms that remind him of summers spent with a heart lighter than air.

----

1. Sylvain always has, and always will protect Felix until the day he dies.

Leonie is one of two on the first shift of babysitting duty.

Undeniably, the orange haired paladin would be the first to admit that she wasn’t the greatest with kids, however there is only so much the tiny, and thankfully unconscious, Fraldarius boy can do given his current predicament.

No one really knows what happened after the enemy spell envelops Felix and Sylvain, the larger of the two curled protectively around his companion as they fall. No one even knows what the spell is.

But what they do know is that now, instead of a regular sized Felix Hugo Fraldarius and Sylvain Jose Gautier, they have a chubby cheeked blue haired cherub and an unfairly-cute-even-as-a-child ginger.

It is in the middle of bemoaning her poor luck at drawing straws when the mini-Felix begins to stir and she feels panic clawing its way up her throat.

“Ngghh…” small, unscarred hands balled into fist come up to rub at bleary amber eyes before they widen almost comically as they take in his surroundings.

“Uhh… hey.” His gaze snaps towards Leonie and she can feel her terror rising with mini Felix’s hysteria, clearly evident by the shiny glaze beginning to cloud his eyes and the fat crocodile tears gathering at the edges of his almond eyes.

“It’s okay, Felix. It’s just me.” She reaches out a hand tentatively in a placating gesture, but quickly withdraws back as young Felix lets out a squeak and scurries as far back into the corner of the bed as he can get, taking his older self’s wool Fraldarius crest blanket with him, as if it could shield him.

“Wh-wh-who are you?” The poor thing is absolutely terrified and damn it, Leonie wants to comfort him, but she is equally as distressed here and this is exactly why she didn’t want to babysit.

“It’s me, Leonie. You don’t… you don’t recognize me?”

It comes out sounding more like a statement than a question.

It’s so painfully obvious that little Felix has no idea who she is.

Which means he doesn’t have his memories.

Which means they are down two of their best generals.

Which means they are well and truly fucked.

So, Leonie does the only thing she can logically think to do.

“Come on,” She says, rising from her bedside chair and reaching for his arm. “We need to go tell Linheartd that the situation is much worse than we had originally thought.” But as soon as her hand wraps around his forearm, Felix screams.

“Oh shi-! Felix! Calm down, I’m not going to hurt you!”

If anything, this just seems to have the opposite effect and the wails increase to near piercing.

Leonie thinks it may be a trick of her mind, and probably her ears because holy crap does little Felix have a set of lungs on him, but she is pretty sure that Felix is screaming out a name.

Specifically, a name belonging to a certain red head that is, the last time she checked anyways, unconscious two doors down from his room and currently being watched over by Caspar.

“Fe!” The door bursts open and suddenly there is chaos.

Was being watched over by Caspar, Leonie amends in her mind.

“Get back here!” The blue haired warrior lunges and swipes his arm out trying to catch mini Sylvain who is slipperier than a fish in water, using his short height to duck between legs and launch himself onto the bed.

“Leave Fe alone!” Honey brown eyes that are so very familiar yet also so different, are glaring holes into Leonie and Caspar, proudly defiant and blazing with determination. Short arms stuffed into the smallest adult shirt they could find on short notice stretch out protectively, completely shielding Felix from sight.

“S-Sylvain,” comes the little sob from behind him and the older boy spares a second to throw a comforting smile behind him. “Don’t worry, Fe. I’ll protect you.” And Goddess, he sounds so genuine and earnest that it makes Leonie wonder what happened to cause their Sylvain to hide behind fake laughs and charming lilts of the tongue.

“Sorry, Leonie.” Caspar is gasping for air like he has just run a marathon. “I tried to keep him in his room but as soon as he heard Felix screaming, he was out faster than I could blink.”

“Ugh. Just go get Ingrid and the Professor.”

----

2. Sylvain hates himself and his crest, but Felix likes him in spite of it.

A day later finds Ingrid watching over the five year old Felix (“What?! He’s five? But he’s so tiny.” “Don’t let him hear you say that or he’ll cry again.”) and seven year old Sylvain.

“Just stay in this area, okay?” She calls out over the din of raucous laughter echoing throughout the courtyard. “I don’t want you two wandering off and getting into trouble.”

The play wrestling pauses for a brief moment and little Sylvain sticks out a tongue at her.

“We don’t get into trouble! You’re just a party pooper!”

“Yeah! Party pooper!”

Shoving down the urge to smack her childhood friends into the next moon, Ingrid settles for watching with pursed lips as Felix dissolves into giggles, Sylvain’s grabby hands finding purchase in his sides and tickling him relentlessly. The look of such carefree happiness on their faces makes her heart clench and eyes sting.

If Ingrid is being completely honest… she misses this.

She remembers what it was like not carrying around a broken heart for a man buried six feet under, his remains not even whole enough to bring home. Back when she could play wrestle with Fe, Sylvie, and Dima in the dirt and then go to Glenn to kiss her knee better when one of them inevitably accidentally activated their crest and used too much strength, resulting in tears and scrapes and bruises.

It doesn’t do her any good to dwell on the past.

The dead should be left to rest, and the living should move on.

For an emotionally constipated guy, Felix is dead on with his philosophy.

Though she has long come to terms with her betrothed’s death, the small sliver of envy she has for her two oldest friends still lingers in the deepest, darkest recesses of her heart.

They’re lucky that they still have each other, even though they spend half the time bickering and denying their feelings.

“Is that the Gautier boy?”

Two monastery staff members stop beneath the path archway and look with undisguised admiration.

“So handsome at such a young age!”

“And I hear he’s incredibly charming too.”

Ingrid knows that Sylvain and hear them. He has always been keen of hearing, especially when it involves others gossiping about himself, for better or for worse.

Felix takes advantage of Sylvain’s distraction to get the upper hand and rolls on top, completely oblivious to the onlookers.

“If I were his mother, I would have secured him a betrothed as soon as he was tested for a crest.”

A hum of agreement. “Yes. His family is blessed with good looks so it would not be hard to secure an advantageous match. The Gautier line will likely continue on stronger than ever with such a prized heir.”

“Sylvain? Why did you stop?”

Felix is all wide eyes and adorable pouty cheeks, staring confusedly down at his best friend underneath him who has gone strangely silent with a strangled expression.

“Don’t you have duties to attend to?”

The two gossipmongers snap to attention at Ingrid’s sharp tone, her expression clearly telling them to get the hell out of here or risk facing her wrath.

With rushed replies of “yes, sorry miss!” and “our apologies”, they scurry off down the pathway and disappear around the corner.

But unfortunately, the damage is already done.

“Sylvain? What’s wrong? Why are you sad?”

Gently, the older boy extricates himself from Felix’s death grip of a grapple and stands up with his eyes cast downwards. “Sorry, Fe. I… I don’t want to play anymore.”

“What? What do you mean? Where are you going?”

“I’m tired. I want to go back to our room.”

It only takes one look at Sylvain’s expression before Felix is latching his fists into the fabric of Sylvain’s pants with a scowl on his face.

“You’re lying to me. Why are you lying?”

“I’m not lying, Fe! I don’t want to play anymore.”

“We’re best friends aren’t we?”

“Well, yeah, of course we are.”

“Best friends don’t lie to each other.”

Ingrid has patiently watched the exchange between Felix and Sylvain to this very moment, hoping that they can sort out this argument without her intervening like she always did as a child, but through years of experience, she can sense that one of them is about to snap and she would very much like to avoid that.

“You know the only reason we’re best friends is because our parents are friends and we both have crests.”

There it is.

It’s absolutely heart breaking how Sylvain has already learned to self destruct at the tender age of seven. If Miklan were still alive, Ingrid would skewer him a thousand times over for instilling the mantra of ‘you’re not worthy of love’ into Sylvain’s head.

“Hey guys, do you wanna go-“

“You’re a stupid head if that’s what you think.” Felix’s interruption shocks her. His usually bright amber eyes are fixed in a watery glare leveled at the boy opposite him. Right now, Ingrid may as well be invisible for all Felix cares.

“What?”

“You’re a stupid head!”

Sylvain looks absolutely affronted.

“No, I’m not!”

“Yeah, you are!” a few tears have managed to slip beyond the barrier and trail down Felix’s cheeks. “I don’t care that our parents know each other. And I don’t care about any stupid crests.”

Felix marches up to Sylvain with all the anger he can muster in his five year old glory and reaches up to smoosh his cheeks together. “I’d still pick you to be my best friend in the whole wide world because you’re funny and nice and I’m always happier with you than Ingrid or Dima.”

Sylvain can only stand there with his lips parted in round ‘o’ from his cheeks being pushed together and a dazed look in his eye. Felix takes this as a sign to continue his little tirade.

“And I know you’re smart so you should stop being such a stupid head because I don’t care what you think. You’re my best friend and I’ll always pick you over any stupid crest.”

“Fe…”

She recognizes that tone. Ingrid looks away then because she fears that if she doesn’t, the part of her heart that belongs to Glenn might just twist its way into her throat and choke her with envy.

Sylvain is giving Felix that look that she has seen many times throughout their lives whenever she watches her two friends from afar. It’s one that everyone, except for Felix, has seen a million times and knows that to Sylvain, the world around him has fallen away except for one person.

“You’re my best friend, Sylvain. So, don’t lie to me.”

For the first time since the gossipers appeared, Sylvain lets a smile slip through.

“Okay. I promise.”

Felix eyes him warily and searches for any hint of a lie in Sylvain’s expression. Once satisfied, he loops his own pinky around the one outstretched to him.

“Good. Now let’s go play Knights and Bandits!”

Perhaps it is because Felix is always looking ahead that he never sees how Sylvain looks at him like he was the one who hung the stars and moon in his dark sky, illuminating his life with happiness and love.

----

3. Felix feels so much and Sylvain is the only one who understands him even without words.

A collective sigh echoes throughout the monastery when they find out that mini Felix and mini Sylvain aren’t too picky with their food.

Granted, even as a child, Felix shows a proclivity towards eating meat; but with a little friendly jostling from his best friend, even the youngest Fraldarius son can be convinced to eat his brussel sprouts.

Which is exactly why Claude is so baffled when Felix starts to protest eating during mealtimes.

“What do you mean he won’t eat?”

He’s well aware that he probably sounds like an idiot, if the exasperated look Lorenz is giving him is anything to go by; but they haven’t had any trouble before so it makes absolutely no sense that Felix would start being picky now.

“It’s exactly as I said,” Lorenz frowns. “We were all simply sitting together enjoying a meal, when Felix stopped eating and refused to finish his dinner. I’ve been told this is now the third occurrence in a row that his has happened.”

“Was he full?” Byleth pauses from looking through some supply requests to chime into their conversation. Although she has not outright said anything, Claude knows his love well enough to tell that she is stressed about their current predicament. Felix throwing a silent protest against food is just one more thing to add to her pile of worries that she doesn’t need.

“Don’t worry, Teach,” Claude winks and flashes his signature grin. “I’ll get to the bottom of this. You just worry about securing our supplies for the next moon, yeah?” His chair lets out a deafening screech as it drags across the floor, drowning out any protests their former professor may have and providing Claude the distraction he needs to usher Lorenz out of the room with him.

“Claude, are you sure you know what you are doing?” The doubt rolling off Lorenz would have offended a lesser man, but Claude has spent his life being the underdog and he lets the words bounce harmlessly off him. “Felix is not an enemy to be outsmarted. He is simply a child who only adheres to emotion.”

“I am aware of that, yes.”

“Then why do you look as though you are about to hatch a scheme?”

Because he is.

And although Felix is not an ‘enemy’, per say, doesn’t mean that Claude can’t use his usual tactics of watching and observing his opponent until he has hatched a plot to take them down. Hence, leading to Claude’s current position tucked away in the far corner of the mess hall during the following breakfast.

Even on his off days, Claude is always watching and learning. He knows the favourite foods of all his fellow comrades in arms and he also knows whom everyone’s preferred companion is.

There is very little that escapes his notice, and the Resistance Army leader is confident that he will have a plan by sundown at the very least.

It is a little past 8am when the two children sleepily trudge their way into the dining hall with Bernadetta, their ward for the day, close behind them.

Nothing seems particularly strange or odd when they join the line to retrieve their meal; and nothing remarkable happens either when Bernie leads them to the only empty table left in the middle of the hall.

“Good morning, Bernadetta!” Raphael greets cheerily and shuffles his mountain of food over to join the trio at their table. “Good morning, Felix, Sylvain!”

The little ones mumble back a greeting, but their voices are lost in the din of the morning meal chatter.

So far, so good. Felix is still eating his porridge (albeit with an adorable frown on his face) and talking animatedly about goddess knows what with Sylvain, who occasionally turns to answer a question from the adults.

“Oh, good morning, Bernadetta, Felix, Sylvain!”

Slowly but surely, the table begins to fill as their friends meander into the building in search of food to start their day. Greetings are exchanged and unsurprisingly, Felix and Sylvain garner a lot of attention due to their current forms. Sylvain, ever the chatterbox that he is, fields most of the questions; Whether it is because he is being considerate of his quieter friend or if he simply relishes in the attention is debatable, but Claude cannot help but notice how his eyes constantly dart back towards Felix who grows increasingly frustrated.

“Oh, you’re just too adorable!” Annette’s squeal of delight reaches even Claude’s remote corner and he assumes that the wince he sees from Felix is due to the sheer volume of the orange haired mage. Sylvain, the current object of attention, just flashes her his prize winning smile; his dimples making him look even more endearing than he already is.

The adults gathered around the children don’t even notice that Felix has stopped eating. Nor do they see Sylvain quietly reach below the table to grab Felix’s smaller hand in what looks to be a gesture of comfort.

In fact, it takes another five minutes of cooing and fawning before Raphael, of all people, notices that Felix is now glaring with teary eyes at his bowl of half eaten porridge.

“What’s wrong, little buddy? Not feeling well?”

Immediately the attention shifts to him and the effects are just as disastrous as Claude predicts.

“I’m not hungry.” Some of the porridge finds its way onto the table as Felix pushes his bowl away with such ferocity, Claude is half surprised it doesn’t completely tip over.

“What do you mean you’re not hungry?” Annette frowns. “This is the fourth time you’ve left a meal unfinished. Are you not feeling well? Do you need to go see Mercedes?”

“No. I don’t wanna eat anymore.”

“Are you sure you’re feeling okay, Felix? We just want to make sure you’re not getting sick.”

“I’m fine.”

It’s a big fat lie and anyone with half a brain can hear the distress and frustration in the blue haired boy’s voice. One lone tear manages to squeeze its way out of Felix’s water logged eyes and that’s all it takes for the table to burst into a flurry.

Claude almost feels bad for Felix as the adults descend on him like a pack of vultures, all of them crowding him and trying to coax the reason for his distress out of him. The Almyran prince has half a mind to go over and rescue his friend in arms from a situation that is probably in his top ten worst fears, but before he can even get out of his seat, Sylvain is already bounding out of his chair with a teary Felix in tow.

Sylvain shouts something about ‘Knights and Bandits’ and they’re out the southern doors before Bernadetta can even process what has happened.

Felix’s half eaten bowl of porridge sits on the table completely forgotten.

----

At lunch, Claude decides to test a hypothesis.

He asks Mercedes and Hilda to sit with the kids at lunch and pay special attention to Felix.

To everyone else, he gives them strict orders to leave their table alone.

Satisfied with how his experiment is set up, Claude finally seats himself back in his observatory spot with his own lunch sitting in front of him.

He’s not expecting amazing results. In fact, he’s not expecting his first hypothesis to be a success at all, but he wants to try it none the less because there is always the possibility that mini Felix fundamentally operates much differently than the Felix that he is used to.

What he doesn’t expect is for Felix to immediately shut down the minute Hilda tries to engage him in some conversation about the games him and Sylvain play in the courtyard.

Today’s lunch special is Daphnel Stew and Claude has it on good authority that it is a favourite of Felix’s (technically Dimitri is a reliable source, right? They were childhood friends after all).

Sylvain tries his best to jump into the conversation and pull some of the attention to himself, but Hilda is every bit as smooth of a talker as Claude is; deftly maneuvering the conversation back to Felix no matter what Sylvain does.

This time, it is Felix that reaches for Sylvain’s hand under the table.

Except instead of just holding Sylvain’s hand, Felix starts to pull at it every time Mercedes or Hilda asks him a question, as if pleading for his friend to save him.

At least Claude could now say for sure that Felix is not, and never was, a fan of being the center of attention.

When the first afternoon bell tolls signaling the end of lunch, Felix’s stew remains uneaten and untouched. On the way out of the hall, Claude looks the other way and pretends not to notice when Sylvain steals an apple from the pantry.

His experiment doesn’t exactly succeed, but he cannot write it off as a failure either. The information gathered from his two observation sessions is plentiful and a solution is forming within his mind even as he makes his way up to the war room to meet Byleth for their afternoon strategy session.

By the time he pushes open the door to his usual haunt, Claude is absolutely certain of two truths.

One, that Sylvain knows Felix better than anyone could ever hope to compare, and two, Felix Fraldarius is incredibly lucky to have an attentive best friend like Sylvain because stars above, does he suck with using his words.

----

When the hour before dinner time rolls around, Claude makes sure to talk to everyone he passes by and give them the order that no one is to approach Felix and Sylvain’s tables at mealtimes anymore. He tells them to pass the word around and it doesn’t take long before the entire monastery is in the know of their Leader’s command.

“Care for company?” Byleth smiles and sets her tray down beside his own without waiting for a reply.

Claude does a quick survey of the area to make sure no one is looking before leaning in to land a quick peck on Byleth’s cheek. Joy flutters in his stomach at her rising blush and he merely laughs and winks at her stuttered protests.

“Check it out,” Claude quickly changes the subject and nods his head over to where Bernadetta sits exhausted with a now cheerful Felix and Sylvain. The latter nodding enthusiastically to their conversation with the occasional laugh and both of their plates near devoid of food.

A tiny rush of pride swells when he sees the relived expression on Byleth’s face.

“Told ya I’d take care of it.”

Underneath the table, he flips his palm facing upward so that he can intertwine his fingers with her searching ones.

“Yes, you did.” The unspoken thanks lingers in the air between them, louder than the constant buzz of activity in the room.

For the first time in a while, the former professor looks more at ease. And Claude, being the shit stirrer that he is, cannot help but toss a little fuel into the fire.

“So… who do you think will wear white at the wedding? Between the two of them, I think Felix is the better choice.”

“What?!”

----

4. Felix has an unwavering faith and belief in Sylvain that he’s not afraid to stubbornly stand by to the bitter end.

“Annie, are you sure this is a good idea?”

If Mercedes is concerned, then Lysithea is absolutely certain that no, this is most definitely not a good idea.

They are at the part of the training grounds where the various magic users can come to practice and hone their spells. The ground is singed with charred marks from stray thunder and fire spells, the black streaks contrasting starkly with the pale stone underneath. To the side, there is also a sand pit where mages can practice some more destructive flame based spells.

“I’m just a little curious, is all!” Annette whispers back. “I know Sylvain is really good with magic even though he never uses it. He was the one who helped me understand that magic formula that I was stuck on for a week, after all. I was thinking maybe he might show an aptitude for Reason as a child.”

“That’s fine and all; but I’m not really sure how safe it is to teach a child how to conjure a fire spell. That just seems like a recipe for disaster.”

The orange hair mage cannot help but look slightly put out by Lysithea’s comment.

Yes, maybe it wasn’t the safest idea ever… but Annette just really wants to find out the extent of Sylvain’s inherent abilities. Even after she makes him promise to take his training more seriously, she still feels like he is holding back on her when they are paired together.

“What kinda magic are you gonna show us?” Felix is eager and bouncing on his toes. The House Fraldarius specializes in swordplay, not magic, so this is a treat for him and he can barely contain his excitement.

“Oh well, I was thinking we could start off with a basic fire spell!”

“Oooh, fire!”

Annette really hopes that Felix doesn’t have a penchant for pyrotechnics.

As much of a bad idea as this is, Lysithea can’t exactly bring herself to leave them in case something goes terribly wrong. She is the strongest, most advanced Gremory the Resistance Army has; with her around, she’s confident that the worst that could happen would be some singed eyebrows and possibly an impromptu need for a haircut. But even that is an outcome that she is hoping to avoid.

Once the target is set up, Sylvain and Felix eagerly make their way over to the sidelines to watch Annette demonstrate a basic fire spell.

It’s nothing special really. Even the older Felix and Sylvain could probably cast it without much problem, but to their younger versions, the small ball of fire is so grand and spectacular that it warrants oo’s and ah’s and enthusiastic applause.

“Wow! That is so cool! Isn’t that so cool, Sylvain?”

Felix is pulling on Sylvain’s sleeve and the older boy nods emphatically with admiration shining in his eyes.

“Do you think you could do it too?”

Lysithea is startled to hear the question Felix asks Sylvain. Of course, Annette was already planning to ask the Gautier boy to attempt the spell, but that was out of curiosity.

From the shining look on Felix’s face, Lysithea knows that he is asking because in his mind, there is nothing that his smart, talented best friend in the whole wide world cannot do.

“Magic is difficult to learn and takes time. It can take years for some to learn just the basics.” She cuts in before Sylvain can answer.

She doesn’t want Felix to unwittingly trap him with an unrealistic expectation that he cannot meet and she figures it is better to disappoint him now rather than allow the red head to try and then feel guilty when he disappoints his friend.

“Sylvain is smart. I bet Sylvain could do it!”

Felix is pouting in that way that they are all quickly learning means ‘I’m right and you can’t convince me otherwise’.

“I’m sure Sylvain is very smart!” Mercedes agrees and gives the boys her best placating smile. “But I’m not so sure that a person could learn how to cast a Fire spell in one day! Why, it took Annie and I at least a week of practicing before we could do it!”

“Yep, I remember I almost burned my eyebrows off the first time I tried! But I can teach you the basics maybe and then we can bring you here again next time to practice?”

The urge to verbally reprimand the warlock for her relentless pursuit to satisfy her own curiosity rises and Lysithea has to physically clutch her biceps to stop herself from bursting.

Fine. If they were so eager to set themselves down this path, then so be it.

“Yeah!” Felix is literally vibrating with excitement and Sylvain looks nervous but determined to not let his admirer down.

Heaving a sigh, Lysithea moves to settle next to Mercedes who sends her an apologetic smile.

It was going to be a long afternoon.

----

Unsurprisingly, Felix does not do so well with learning the basics.

The diagrams and symbols are a little too much on the side of complex and it becomes apparent rather quickly that there is a reason the Fraldarius men carve through the battlefield with swords instead of magic.

“Aw, it’s okay Fe! You’re still the best with a sword anyways. You don’t need magic!” Sylvain ruffles his hair and smiles. “You’ll always beat me at swordplay.”

The small admission is enough to cheer Felix up and after a bit more nudging from the older boy, he runs off to play around with the wooden practice swords they have on the other side of the training room while Annette and Sylvain continue to work on creating basic magic circles.

It’s only after the third hour and Mercedes has long left to attend to various chores that Lysithea turns to watch Felix go through rather crude sword forms instead.

“You need to spread your feet farther apart.” Using her own foot, she nudges Felix’s left heel to the side to widen his stance. “Try striking again now.”

The wooden sword wobbles a bit in its trajectory, but the swing is undoubtedly much better than before. The sheer delight that lights up in Felix’s eyes almost makes Lysithea laugh out loud because she recognizes it as the same gleam she sees in the older Felix’s eyes when he executes a particularly hard maneuver.

“Why aren’t you watching Sylvain and Annie?”

For a five year old, Felix is incredibly perceptive.

Rather than lie to him, Lysithea opts for honesty because she is sure that’s what older Felix would have wanted.

“I don’t think he’ll succeed.”

Felix frowns. “You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do. I know how hard it is to learn magic. I’m sure Sylvain is very intelligent, but it takes a lot of hard work to use Reason.”

“Sylvain can do it. I know he can.”

She sighs and turns a baleful eye down at Felix. “You’re a stubborn one aren’t you.”

“Glenn said that to me too when he didn’t believe me that I could stay up all night waiting for Sylvain.”

“And did you prove him wrong?”

Felix turns to full face her, expression full of gravity.

“Yup.” The dead seriousness of his tone looses Lysithea’s first laugh of the day and she cannot help but be drawn towards this little boy, the same way she was drawn to his older self.

Deigning not to continue a lost conversation, the cake loving Gremory opts to turn back and watch the progress that the other two have made, leaving Felix muttering to himself about his steadfast belief in his best friend.

----

“Alright, let’s see what you’ve got!”

The sun is setting and it is nearly time for dinner by the time Sylvain and Annette break away from Magic and Sorcery: Vol 1. to actually put some practice to the theory they have spent all day studying.

“Now, don’t be too disappointed if you can’t get it.” Annette says while moving out of the way. “You did just learn the basics and it takes a lot of practice!”

Lysithea has not moved from her perch from a nearby bench. She’s still extremely skeptical that Sylvain will manage to do very much at all. Yes, it is true that he had a budding talent for Reason during their academy days, but Sylvain hardly ever applied himself to any of his studies. The professor had to literally force him to attend one on one magic lessons with her before his aptitude for spells finally emerged.

Although, she muses, this younger Sylvain seems to be more enthusiastic to participate in things he was interested in. Even now, the scrunched up look of concentration on his face is indication enough that the Sylvain Lysithea is used to is a much different creature than the one before her currently.

House Ordelia does not really have any established trade routes with the Gautier territory, but the Ordelia heir has heard enough to know that the current Margrave is an arrogant, crest-obsessed prick.

It doesn’t take a prodigy to connect the dots and surmise that Sylvain’s carefree attitude and refusal to apply himself to anything is a product of his father’s suffocating expectations.

Fuck Margrave Gautier.

Maybe Lysithea does want Sylvain to prove her wrong and succeed; then at least he can go back home and light his father’s breeches on fire.

She’s only slightly disappointed when her expectations prove correct and the best Sylvain can conjure is one tiny flicker from a lone flame in his hand. However, it is still much more than she thought Sylvain would be able to do and for that, she is genuinely impressed.

Annette is also very much awestruck with Sylvain’s quick learning and happily informs the boy of this all the way to the dining hall. Sylvain is uncharacteristically quiet as he listens to the older mage praise him, but he is not yet skilled enough in the art of hiding behind a mask and the slight downward tilt of his lips does not go unnoticed.

“You really did an amazing job learning so much in such a short time, Sylvain! Don’t be too disappointed that you couldn’t do it.”

Sylvain gives a weak smile in return, but it is Felix who ultimately responds; one hand clasped tightly in the Gautier’s and the other one balled into a fist.

“Sylvain can do it. Just watch.”

----

Dinner passes without much fanfare and the boys are eventually tucked in for the night. Claude and Byleth have long decided that a full-time night chaperone is no longer necessary; although occasionally, one of their friends will peek into the room in the dead of night before they retire, but very rarely do they find anything wrong that requires their attention. A week has already passed with no incident, so there should be no need to exhaust their soldiers by keeping them up at night.

Except this time, when Petra nudges the door to their room open – being extremely careful not to open it too fast lest the hinges squeak – she does not see any sign of Felix or Sylvain anywhere.

It is the dead of night, but Garreg Mach Monastery blazes alive with a flurry of panic at the toll of the emergency bell.

“You’re absolutely sure no one saw them leave their room?”

Seteth slams his palms on the table and interrogates the night shift guards; his brows furrowed and mind racing a mile a minute.

If the enemy has somehow managed to sneak into Garreg Mach and kidnap the children, then they are well and truly fucked. They may have to abandon their home base or at the very least do an extensive investigation of their current ranks and re-evaluate their current passive defense.

“There were no signs that a struggle was happening.” Petra voices from her place around the war table. “I am having confidence that they left with willingness.”

“Goddess, please keep them safe.” The situation leaves a bad taste in Flayn’s mouth; it is much too reminiscent of when she was kidnapped and although it has been years since the incident, the memories still plague her.

Byleth’s voice leaves no room for discussion, “everyone split up and search the grounds. Most of our facilities are locked up at night so that should help limit the number of places we need to search.”

Everyone dashes out of the room with their orders and branch off at the second floor corridor. Those once belonging to the Black Eagle house comb through the main hall while the former Blue Lion students check all surrounding independent buildings; the Golden Deer fanning out to cover the outdoor grounds of the monastery.

An hour passes. Then another. And another.

Soon it is 3 in the morning and the panic is truly beginning to set in, giving rise to an unsettling fear clawing its way up from the depths of the night.

“Dimitri, Dedue! Have you found anything?” Ingrid pants and skids to a halt just below the stairs to the Sauna; the rest of her Blue Lion classmates run up to join her and debrief their findings.

“Nothing,” Dedue’s tone is flat as usual but his strangled expression is enough to betray his underlying worry. “We have searched all the open buildings and the grounds. There is no sign of them at all.”

Annette is near tears now and Mercedes places a hand on her shoulder, offering her silent support even while she herself is fiddling with her shawl, an attempt to keep her mind occupied before it spirals.

“It’s not like them to run away,” Ashe frowns. “Did anything happen today? Were they acting weird at all?”

“Not really. All we did was practice magic at the training grounds.”

Mercedes frowns. “Perhaps they left something there and went back to retrieve it?”

“The training grounds should be locked at 11PM. No one should be able to get in or out until sunrise.” Dimitri shakes his head.

“Well then we’re clearly running out of ideas here!” Ingrid throws up her hands in frustration and rakes them through her hair which is on the verge of looking like a bird’s nest. “We’ve checked the dining hall and the greenhouse but –“

“Your Majesty.” Dedue’s raised voice cuts Ingrid short and they look over to see the doors to the training grounds swing open slowly with a slight push of the man’s hands. “The doors were not locked as we thought.”

It takes only a heartbeat for them to scramble through the large wooden doors and down the hallway, their rushed footsteps echoing like thunder in the stone corridor.

“Oh Goddess. I smell smoke. Does anyone else smell smoke?” If her heartbeat accelerates any more, Annette is pretty sure she will have a heart attack.

“It’s coming from over there!” Their King leads the charge towards the magical training arena where the smell of smoke is the thickest.

When they burst into the open area, they are prepared for the worst. Weapons are drawn and hands raised with spells on the tips of tongues, but the sight they are greeted with is enough to shock them into stasis.

There in the middle of the sandpit, hunched over and panting hard, albeit with a brilliant grin on his face, is Sylvain. The practice dummy a few feet in front of him is alit with flames, illuminating the room with an orange glow, casting shadows along the stone walls that flicker like a live audience.

And off to the side bundled up in a woolen teal blanket that they all recognize, is a tired, but extremely proud looking Felix Fraldarius staring directly at the newcomers.

“I told you he could do it!”

----

5. Sylvain has given Felix all the pieces of his fragile, fractured heart, even if he isn’t aware he possesses it.

Although once his greatest secret, Ignatz no longer hides his passion for art from his fellow Resistance Army members.

It’s not uncommon these days for people to find him at random places in the monastery with his art supplies sketching away at preserving a moment in time on blank paper forevermore.

Today, he is sitting on a bench next to a large oak tree, just a stone’s throw away from the main grounds. Beneath the shade and tucked between two large roots lie Sylvain and Felix, both completely tuckered out from their earlier attempts at climbing the towering tree. Sylvain is starfished on the ground with his arms stretched wide; to his left, Felix lays curled away from him with his head pillowed on the outstretched limb.

Sylvain and Felix have been the talk of the monastery for the past week and it is pretty obvious why. It’s not every day that you see two high ranking generals revert back to their child forms. Especially the most notorious bother-me-and-I’ll-bite-your-head-off and if-it-breathes-I’ll-flirt-with-it Generals to boot.

Of course, stories of their shenanigans and troublemaking usually fill the daily meal conversations, but there is one topic that floats above all else; the one that makes the maids in the kitchen giggle and even the burliest of knights crack a smile:

It is clear that even from a young age, Sylvain Jose Gautier and Felix Hugo Fraldarius are absolutely smitten with each other.

The two are inseparable and Ignatz is pretty sure that even a blind man would be able to see the absolute trust and unspoken devotion they have towards each other.

Ignatz has spent the day watching Felix and Sylvain, not just because it’s his turn to babysit, but also because he is fascinated with their bond. He had once thought that the Goddess was the most beautiful thing in the world, but the rawness and purity of their relationship fills him with more piety and awe than any portrait or statue of Sothis ever did.

It is like they are two parts of a well-oiled machine. Where one gives way, the other will step in to fill the gap; whenever Sylvain’s insecurities flare up, Felix is always there to chase the demons away with clumsy words and a physical display of affection, using his own body to ground his best friend and keep him close. Likewise, whenever tears well up in the youngest Fraldarius’ eyes (which is unfortunately quite often), Sylvain is there to wipe away the salty tracks and light up Felix’s heart with a smile warmer and brighter than sunshine.

Ignatz’s original plans were to draw the oak tree and the beautiful meadow of primrose flowers, but it seems that there will be a last minute change in muse.

Taking up his piece of charcoal, he begins the outline of what he thinks will be his fondest work to date.

Ignatz doesn’t know how long he spends sitting on that bench hunched over his sketchbook in silence with only the occasional birdsong floating through the silence. It’s so calm and peaceful that he doesn’t even notice that Sylvain has begun to stir until he looks up to find one of his subjects in a different position.

Leonie had warned him that Sylvain has a tendency towards nightmares. She had discovered that unfortunate fact in the first three days when each time she tip-toed into their room to check up on them, she found Sylvain wide awake with wild terror in his eyes and a sleepy Felix clinging to him comfortingly.

Strangely enough, Sylvain also does not startle awake from his nightmares. Instead, he slowly rouses himself as if from a deep sleep and if it weren’t for the glaze of lingering fear in his eyes, none would be able to tell that he had just woken up from a night terror.

That same glazed look is now flickering rapidly around him as if searching for the shadow of a monster that exists only within his mind.

“Sylvain…?”

Wild brown eyes finally settle on steady molten amber ones.

“Fe.”

“It’s okay, Sylvain. I’m here...”

Felix yawns and shuffles around until he is half wrapped around Sylvain with his left hand settling over Sylvain’s pounding heart.

“I won’t let anyone hurt you…” Small hands curl around the material of Sylvain’s shirt in a death grip. Felix’s loyalty and protectiveness so painfully evident even when the boy himself is half asleep. He manages to cling to the realm of the conscious for a little while longer, until the rapid thump thump thump of Sylvain’s heart slows to a steady lulling rhythm, pulling Felix back down under the veil of sleep.

Ignatz has silently watched this entire exchange and to be honest, he’s not really sure that Sylvain or Felix even remember that he is here with them. He cannot bring himself to make his presence known, so he continues to watch and observe.

He watches as the fear that was once in Sylvain’s eyes slowly recede again, the monsters inside his head vanquished in the company of his best friend. It only takes one more glance at the boy cuddled up to him with a hand protectively hovered over his heart to melt away the chains that bind him to the expectations of the people around him.

Here under this oak tree in a field of blooming young love, there is no crest or Miklan or nobility. There is only Felix and Sylvain.

Sylvain holds onto that truth as he wraps his free arm around the younger boy, tucking him more securely under his chin, letting the cool summer breeze lull him back to a dreamless sleep.

Ignatz pulls out a new page and starts a fresh outline. It takes him a little longer than anticipated to finish his drawing, but he figures it’s not such a bad thing since he likes this new version much better.

Later, as he trails after the now energetic boys back towards the monastery, Ignatz tucks his newest masterpiece securely under his arm, being very careful not to smudge the drawing or crease the paper.

After all, Claude did mention something about a wedding and Ignatz thinks that his drawing will make a fine gift.

----

Bonus: They’re just two idiots in love.

“Go away. Can’t you see I’m trying to enjoy my meal?”

“Aww, don’t be like that, Felix! You know, the younger you was much cuter. Definitely less prickly, too.” Dorothea pokes his cheek and snatches her hand away before Felix can stab it with his steak knife.

It’s been roughly a week since Felix and Sylvain have returned to their normal sizes, the dark magic having run its course and fizzling out without so much as a final spark. To the rest of the Army, this is a joyous occasion as it means that two of their best generals are now back to normal and can command them again. But to the last class of the academy… it is bittersweet.

Of course, they want their friends to return to normal. But that also means that Felix will go back to hissing and spitting with all the fury of a spooked cat and Sylvain will go back to seducing any individual that makes eye contact with him for longer than half a second.

“Better do as he says, Thea. Felix’s looking extra grumpy today and we wouldn’t want you to lose a pretty little finger.” Sylvain winks at her as he sets down his own meal and settles in the seat across from the swordsman.

The opera singer snorts, “right back to the flirting as usual. Save your hollow words for some other girl.”

“Ouch. Give a guy a break! I just recovered from a dark magic spell after all. Doesn’t that warrant some pity?”

“The only pity is that you immediately lost all your innocent and cute appeal when you reverted back to your regular body.”

Felix scowls at them, “if you insist on continuing your flirting, I’ll just eat my meal elsewhere.” He moves to stand but Sylvain is quicker and grabs his wrist, preventing him from moving.

“I’m sorry. I’ll stop. Just stay, okay? Please? For me, Fe?”

Sylvain is looking at Felix with that expression which he knows he cannot resist and Dorothea takes this opportunity to slip away while the two engage in a silent conversation with only their eyes.

“Fine.”

Their meal continues with little fanfare and easy conversation. Around them, their old classmates are scattered in their own little groups and if they notice, none of them mentions anything about how everyone seems to avoid sitting at Felix and Sylvain’s table.

Easy conversation flows into dessert, or more specifically: Felix wordlessly giving Sylvain his peach sorbet and Sylvain beaming a rare genuine smile and promising to join him at the training grounds first thing tomorrow morning.

The sun is slowly dipping below the horizon when Sylvain and Felix gather up their dishes. On their way out of the dining hall, Ignatz stops them with a heartfelt congratulations and a bundled up package that looks suspiciously like one of his works.

“Congratulations? For what?” Artfully tousled red hair shifts as Sylvain tilts his head in confusion and reluctantly accepts the gift.

“O-oh, well Claude just said…”

Dread rises up from the pit of Felix’s stomach. “What did that schemer say this time?”

“…He said that you two were getting married.”

“What?!”

28 notes · View notes

stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale · 4 years

Text

with you [chapter 5]

Summary: Clementine pops the question, Louis has nightmares, Violet can’t let go of the past, Mitch doesn’t know how to handle gross feelings, Ruby’s a goddamn sweetheart, Willy doesn’t ever remember to knock, Aasim can’t dance, and James is here, too.

Nothing like a wedding to bring this family together.

Note: I’m home from my grandmothers. My uncle came back a little early and now I finally get to sleep in my own bed and have internet. It’s been an exhausting two weeks but at least some good came of it. I finished rewriting/editing three chapters of [with you] which is progress. Working on this is what kept my sanity in check tbh haha. I still need some time to unpack and recover before being fully back on here, so I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Also, I’ve updated [with you] on Fanfiction.net and Wattpad, as well. I’ve pretty much given up on them but then I thought that I do have readers on those platforms who have messaged me about [with you] so I might as well update them, too. So yeah. Thanks for reading and for your support for this story. :D

Ch1 | Ch2 | Ch3 | Ch4 | Ch5

Read on: AO3 | FF.net | Wattpad

---

Clementine yanks the basement doors open, only to gag when a nauseating scent of vinegar knocks her in the face.

“What the hell?” she coughs.

“C’mon!” Willy grabs her arm and hurries down the stairs, dragging her with him. “Mitch! Clem’s here!”

Something heavy and metallic drops hard to the cement. “Shit!” Mitch curses. “Told you not to do that, Willy!”

“Sorry!”

She follows the young boy deeper into the basement and finds herself amazed at Mitch’s set up. The work desk is completely covered with drills, hammers, saws, files, batteries, a few of their solar panels, and other machines she didn’t recognize. Flashlights are wired in the air pointing directly at the anvil Mitch sits in front of. There’s a chipped bowl filled with a clear liquid sitting on top.

“Finally,” Mitch says when he sees her. Clementine’s startled by his more than usual unkempt appearance- hair standing in every direction, dirtiness staining his hands, shirt and face, and the weariness lining his eyes.

“Uh, are you okay?” she asks him.

“Yeah, yeah,” he waves dismissively, standing from his stool, yawning heavily as he tosses a dirty rag away.

Willy rushes to help him scoot the various tools aside so Mitch can reach something closest to the wall. It’s a small, brown box.

Clementine approaches the two boys, trying to hide her eagerness as she asks, “Well? Were you able to fix it?”

Mitch scratches at the back of his neck and turns away. “Not exactly,” he says, “It sorta got ruined when I messed around with it.”

Her heart drops.

“Ruined how?”

“I may have broke it.”

“Broke it!?”

Mitch whips around, holding up a hand. “Now, don’t cry about it,” he says quickly, “it was a shitty ring, anyway. Louis would’ve broken it himself if you gave it to him… maybe.” He grabs a small wrench from the table and swings it around on his finger nervously.

“Mitch,” she can’t help that her voice came out so miserably angry. “If you couldn’t fix it then you should’ve left it alone! What am I supposed to do now?”

“Woah, hey, don’t freak out! Just listen for two seconds,” he says. “I didn’t mean to break it. We started messing around with some stuff to try and reshape it but then it snapped and James came wandering down here and the whole thing was a shitshow. There was no saving that thing. Kind of a piece of shit. So,” he looks away as he shoves the brown box towards her, “We did you one better.”

Willy’s practically vibrating with excitement next to them as he motions eagerly to the box. “Open it! Open it!”

Clementine takes the box and pulls the lid off. It takes her a moment to process what she’s seeing.

There’s a clean piece of fabric bunched up at the bottom, and within the folds rests two matching silver bands. Her head snaps up and her jaw drops.

His exhausted, shit-eating grin is enough of a confirmation that what she’s seeing is real.

“Oh my god!” she gasps. “Where did you get these?”

“Made ‘em.”

“What? You-” she blinks up at him in disbelief, “-you made these?”

“Super awesome, huh?” Willy laughs. “I told’ja we had it under control!”

“The smell’ll wear off, too,” Mitch says, “had to polish ‘em with vinegar.”

Clementine carefully lifts the bigger of the two rings out of the box. “How- How did you-?”

“Quarters,” Mitch smirks. “Willy here keeps a pretty impressive coin collection. Took a while to find the right ones, but we got it.”

“Yeah, we made a shit ton of them!” Willy reaches into his pocket and pulls out various different rings, most of them scratched up or disfigured in some way.

“It’s pretty easy once you get the hang of it,” Mitch shrugs. “Willy found this old book about sailors overseas making rings for their girlfriends back home. Just gotta hammer them then drill out the middle, do some filing and hammer some more. Once me and James knew what we were doing, we used the measurement I took of your finger and made yours. That one turned out great, so we made Louis’ to complete the set… and it only took us an entire day to do and there were, eh… complications , but they’re done.”

Clementine runs her finger over the smooth surface, “This is-” she stops when she notices something engraved on it. She blinks, but it’s still there scratched into the shiny surface.

C + L

“That part was Mitch’s idea,” Willy points at the tiny letters, “had to use a really sharp nail to get it that clear.”

“We’ve all seen the piano,” Mitch quickly explains, rolling his eyes, “figured it’d be a good finishing touch. No big deal.”

She puts the box on the workbench. Without any warning, she throws herself at Mitch, wrapping her arms around his now tense body.

“Woah, hey, um-!” Mitch panics and sticks his arms out to avoid touching her.

“You guys have no idea what this means to me.”

“Uh-!”

He turns to Willy, bewildered. The young boy begins to laugh as he points at Mitch’s panicked face. Clementine reaches out and yanks Willy forward, pulling him into the hug as well. Even then, he’s still giggling like an amused child.

Then, like the realization that they’re all hugging finally hits him over the head, Mitch jerks back, nearly tripping over his feet when turning back towards the work desk. He clears his throat.

“Said it’s not a big fucking deal, and it’s not like we did all the work, y’know. James helped, too, so just-” he grumbles, fumbling with the wrench, “-... consider it an early wedding present, or whatever.”

Clementine can’t help but laugh at how weirdly cute it is that he’s embarrassed. She picks up the rings again to pull out the smaller one. It fits perfectly on her finger.

“I don’t know if I could ever thank you guys enough for doing this,” she beams, making a note to thank James in the morning. God, the ring fits so perfectly she can’t believe it.

“Yeah, well, y’know,” Mitch nervously scratches his cheek, a rare smile betraying his lips, “whatever.”

”Mitch! Ya still down here!?” Ruby’s voice echoes from the top of the stairs. “Lou’s in the music room! Did’ja find the box of spare candles? We’re gonna need a lot to fill the whole place up!”

“Oh, shit-” Mitch hisses.

“No one’s down here!” Willy jumps into action, dashing towards the stairs and stretching his arms out. “ Do not enter !”

“Gah, Willy, move it!”

Clementine closes the small box and shoves it into her pocket before turning to face Ruby as she pushes Willy to the side. Ruby sets her lantern on the workbench, lighting up the basement enough for Clementine to make out the thrill brightening her eyes.

“Clementine!” she gasps.

It’s Clementine’s turn to receive a surprise hug when Ruby practically tackles her.

“Oh, Clem, I heard the news! Why didn’t ya tell me!? This is so excitin’! Ahh! I can’t believe ya didn’t tell me!” Ruby pulls back to ask the boys, “Did’ja give ‘em to her yet?”

Clementine slowly turns to glare at the two boys.

Willy lowers his head in shame and Mitch fake coughs into his fist. Neither of them answers the question, nor do they dare look Clementine in the eye.

“ Mitch -”

“Before you flip the fuck out,” Mitch holds a finger up to stop her, ”she’s the one who came in here demanding to know what we were doing! She tried to wack me with one of Omar’s wooden spoons! I had to tell her!”

“Oh, no I didn’t! I said I would wack ya with one if ya didn’t explain yerself!” argues Ruby. “I thought ya were makin’ another bomb!”

“I haven’t messed with that shit for, like, weeks!”

Clementine can already see where this is going to go, and the best thing to do is stop it in its tracks.

“Okay, stop!” She raises her voice above theirs. The basement’s quiet again. She takes a deep breath. “I’m not mad.”

“You sound mad,” says Willy.

“I’m not. Ruby, you were going to find out about it anyway, though I can’t say I expected it to go down like this. Does anyone else know?”

“No,” says Ruby and Mitch.

“Uhm, well…” Willy nervously laughs.

“Dude,” Mitch frowns down at the young boy.

“I didn’t mean to! Aasim saw me going through my coin collection earlier! Then he started asking all these questions and it just came out! But, I made him swear on his soul he wouldn’t tell anyone!”

“What?” Ruby asks. “When was this?”

“This morning.”

“And he didn’t say anything to me!”

“Yeah, because Willy asked him not to,” Mitch says. “Keep up.”

Clementine feels the beginnings of a headache coming on.

She trusts Aasim. He's never let her down in the past, and he wouldn’t say anything to Louis, especially if he knows this is a surprise.

“Anyone else?” Clementine asks.

Willy shakes his head.

So, of the people in their group, AJ, James, Mitch, Willy, Ruby, and Aasim all know.

That just leaves Omar, Tenn, and…

And Violet.

She’s about to speak, but Ruby grabs her hand to admire the ring. “Wow, it’s even prettier on,” she gleams. “Gotta say, boys, ya did a real good job.”

Mitch rolls his eyes.

“Well, yeah .”

“How’re ya gonna ask him? James and I were thinkin’ that you do it in the music room, of course, and we’ll help ya decorate it with candles and lanterns, make it real romantic.”

“Gross,” Mitch murmurs.

“Hush,” Ruby warns him. “Or, on the roof, under the pretty stars! Or, we can even decorate yer dorm! Whattya think? Omar can cook ya something special and, oh! I found some real pretty classical records fer ya to play! Ya gotta set the mood, after all.”

“We can make some cool fireworks, too!” Willy exclaims.

“Oh, no you won’t! No bombs, no fireworks!”

“Just a few sparklers? To set the mood?”

“No! Especially if it’s inside! Which I think would be best since ya never know with the damn weather.”

“Wow, Ruby,” Clementine’s astonished at the girl’s excitement. “You’ve put a lot of thought into this.”

“‘Course! I know I may be buttin’ in a little-” Mitch scoffs “-but I never thought I’d get to witness somethin’ like this after all that’s happened! I mean, a wedding ! It’s like somethin’ outta the fairytales! And, listen, ya don’t hafta take my suggestions. You can ask him any way ya want! Just know that we’re all here to help! Oh, and the wedding !”

“Oh, God,” Mitch groans.

“We’re definitely plannin’ a wedding!”

“Geez, who’s really getting married here?” Mitch asks, irritated. “You or Clem?”

“Oh, shut it! Why can’t ya just be excited?”

“Excited about what? Does nothing for me.”

“Y’know, thinkin’ about someone else fer a change wouldn't kill ya!”

“Okay, please stop arguing,” Clementine interrupts them. “At least let me get through the actual proposal before we start doing anything else.”

“Shit,” Ruby curses herself, “sorry, Clem. Guess I got a little excited.”

“So, what’s the plan?” Willy asks eagerly. “When are we going this?”

Clementine peers down at the ring on her finger, and says, “Now that I have the rings, I’m going to do it tomorrow. In the evening. I like your idea, Ruby, about the candles in the music room.”

“Thought ya would,” Ruby grins. “We keep a bunch of ‘em down here. We’ll all help ya decorate, ‘cept keepin’ Louis outta there might be a task.”

“That’s easy,” Mitch says. “Send him hunting for the day, him and Aasim.”

“My goodness, there’s an idea,” says Ruby, “that way, Aasim can keep an eye on him and make sure he don’t wander back here unannounced.”

“James, too,” Clementine adds. “Just in case Louis doesn’t listen to Aasim, or they get in a tight spot.”

“Right!” Ruby claps her hands. “Oh, I’m gettin’ excited again!”

“Geez, you’re acting more excited than she is,” Mitch jerks his thumb at Clementine.

“Believe me, I don’t think anyone’s as excited as I am,” Clementine smiles, holding up her hand to admire the ring one last time before slipping it back in the box. “It’s just a lot to take in. We just have to be careful now. Louis can’t know anything.”

They all turn to Willy, who hangs his head in shame once more.

“I said it was an accident.”

“I know,” Clementine sighs. “Maybe you should avoid him for now, Willy. Just in case. And, Mitch,” she turns to him, “don’t throw any more shoes at him.”

“Hey, you want him wandering down here? No, you don’t. Thought we established that. ‘Sides, the ring’s done. Nothing left for me to work on.”

“Right, but still, you can’t be acting all suspicious. He’s already worried about you. That’s why he tried to come down here yesterday.”

“Pfft,” Mitch scowls. “Worried…”

“Well, while we know Lou’s in the music room, I’ll gather everyone before they turn in and we can discuss the plan. Don’t worry, we’ll be discreet,” Ruby assures her. “Mitch, yer on candle and match duty. Willy, in the mornin’ I want ya ta go out and pick as many pretty flowers as ya can.”

“Aw,” Willy pouts, “how come I got flower duty?”

“It’s either that or ya gotta help Omar cook. Yer choice.”

Willy doesn’t argue. Omar’s a genuinely nice guy, but he’s also an incredibly particular cook. Willy wasn’t going to willingly put himself into that nightmare.

Soon, they have all the details worked out.

Aasim and James will take Louis far away to go hunting until evening, giving them a few hours to set up.

Ruby will work on setting up a little picnic area for them on the floor and figure out the music. Willy will go around with Tenn and AJ to pick enough flowers for a bouquet, as well as decorate an old vase to put them in. Omar will cook them something extra special, and Mitch will gather all the candles and place them in the safest places around the music room.

As for Clementine herself, she’ll help fix things up in the piano room, but there’s something else she wants to try, as well. Something that she’s been contemplating for the past week.

She hides the box in her jacket with a big, dumb grin stuck on her face. She still can’t believe that Mitch, James, and Willy actually made her a matching set of wedding rings. She tries not to show it, but the very thought of both her and Louis wearing them makes her giddy.

But, there’s still an issue pressing on her mind.

“Ruby?” Clementine’s grin is replaced with a worrying frown. “Are… are you going to tell Violet?”

And, just like that, the room becomes tense.

“Violet?” asks Willy.

“Oh, well, shoot,” Ruby mutters, “didn’t even think of Vi.”

“Don’t fucking bother,” Mitch snaps. “She’s not gonna give a shit, and if she does, she’ll just ruin the whole thing.”

Ruby looks up at Mitch with distraught eyes. “We gotta tell her, Mitch. She’ll feel left out-”

“Oh, don’t start with that bullshit. Why do you anyways try to include her?”

“Because whether you like it or not, she’s one of us. She’s family.”

“Oh, please. She’s an asshole!”

“You bite yer tongue, right now!”

“Well, it’s true!”

“The only reason she’s mean ta you is because yer a jerk ta her first! God, everyone else is decent, why can’t you be?”

A sick feeling comes over her. Clementine can’t quite place what it actually is, but it always boils within her whenever the idea of talking to Violet strikes her.

Over the past two years, she’s tried talking to Violet. Not big things. Saying, “Hello,” or “How are you?” or “Are you okay?”

Every single time, Violet doesn’t mutter a single word. All she gives is a glare and the view of her back as she walks away.

She told Louis how much she missed Violet once.

He watched her suffer after losing Violet as a close friend. There were a few nights just after the delta that Clementine found herself crying, and he was there to hold her, to promise her that Violet would come around, she just needed time.

Louis tried to fix things between her and Violet.

She can still remember that night. He snuck into the darkness of the room. AJ was fast asleep.

Clementine can remember the rage filling her insides when she saw the bruise forming on his face and the tears slipping down his cheeks. She barely made it to the door before Louis grabbed her, begging her not to go after Violet, that she didn’t even know what happened. AJ woke up, and Louis lied about what was wrong. It was only when they were alone in the hallway that he told her what happened.

They’d gotten into an argument, Louis and Violet. An argument about her. Louis defended her and tried to understand Violet’s animosity. She refused to talk. She only cussed and shoved him away.

Louis got too close, and like a reflex, Violet swung.

Violet didn’t come out of her room for almost two weeks after that. She spoke to no one but Tenn when he brought her food.

She didn’t come out until Louis spoke to her again.

And it all happened because of her…

“Don’t worry about it, Ruby,” Clementine speaks up. “I’ll tell her.”

“The fuck you will!” Mitch‘s brow furrows in fury and his fists curl.

“It’s not like she’ll try to stab me just for talking to her,” Clementine argues.

“Oh yeah? Just like how she didn’t try to stab you after the delta, right? For fuck's sake, had Louis and James not stepped in you would’ve had a nice big gash right between your eyes! She attacked you, Clem! And she’s never said sorry or even pretended that she felt guilty about it! She betrayed us! She’s a traitor!”

“Mitch!” Ruby gasps out. “Don’t talk so ugly! Vi’s no such thing! That was years ago and things have changed! Maybe if you put in some more effort-”

“Oh, fucking hell-”

“-then you wouldn’t be so damn quick to be cruel! And y’know, maybe it is time they finally sort this out.”

“Fuck that!”

Clementine straightens herself out and confidently stands up to Mitch.

“I appreciate your concern, but-”

“My concern ?” Mitch glares. “What, my concern that I’ll have to dig your grave when that bitch snaps and puts a fucking cleaver in you?”

“She wouldn’t really do that, right?” Willy says, eyes widening.

“Of course she would! She’s-”

“Mitchell Robert Daymond!” Ruby exclaims, causing all of them to jump, startled. All eyes fall on Ruby’s small, angry form as she points right at Mitch’s face. “That is enough outta you. This ain’t yer choice, and bein’ a prick about it ain’t gonna get yer way! Gah, ya act like Vi’s some sorta- sorta monster and I’m sick of it.”

Mitch opens his mouth to speak, only to have Ruby cut him off.

“ No ,” she demands. “ No more .”

The air becomes uncomfortably heavy as the two glare at one another. Clementine finds herself breathing slower as if a regular breath would be too much for the tension. Glancing over at poor Willy, she finds him standing close behind Mitch, still gripping his arm and looking between the two.

Only when Mitch tears his gaze away to scowl at the floor does Ruby turn back to Clementine.

“If this is somethin’ ya wanna do, then we’re right behind ya,” she says. “Vi’s not gonna be happy about it, that’s fer sure, but she won’t do nothin’ ta hurt ya, either. I know it.”

The tension in her shoulders relax with her sigh as Clementine nods.

“I know, and you’re right. I’m tired of this. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life avoiding her when I can try and make things right. Maybe we won’t ever be friends again, but we can at least be on speaking terms." Clementine looks to her ring once more. “Louis will want her at the wedding, and if she isn’t there because of me…”

“Do what ya can, Clem,” Ruby smiles, placing a comforting hand on Clementine’s shoulder. “Just... promise you’ll be careful?”

“I will.”

“Fucking shit,” Mitch hisses under his breath, rubbing both hands over his face in frustration. “If you’re actually serious, then you’re not going alone. I’ll go with you and make sure she doesn’t pull anything.”

“I don’t think that’s a great idea,” Ruby objects. “Yer not exactly sensitive when it comes to stuff like this.”

“Fuck off, I can be sensitive,” Mitch snaps. “I mean- Not that I’d- ... It’s better if someone goes with her and last I checked, you’re supposed to be on watch with Aasim right now. And don’t you have a plan to share, too?”

Ruby hesitates, turning to Clementine with concern.

Clementine can see why Mitch tagging along wouldn’t be ideal, but she had to admit that having a backup would make her feel a little bit better. Even if he merely escorted her to Violet’s room or made it known that he was only there to keep things from escalating to a boiling point- which, again, Mitch isn’t the ideal candidate for this role- it’d make her feel better.

Then again, Violet might be doubly pissed to see Mitch, as well. If there’s anyone she despises as much as Clementine, it’s Mitch.

“You don’t have to-” Clementine starts, only to have him raise his hand.

“Yeah, I don’t have to do anything,” he frowns. “But, I’m gonna anyway.”

That gets a smile out of her.

“And you won’t threaten her?”

He stares, then lowers his head in defeat.

“I won’t say nothin’ unless I gotta.” Then, he turns to Willy. “You okay to clean this place up yourself?”

“Yeah, no problem,” Willy smiles.

“Well, ehm, guess I’ll get Aasim and James and tell ‘em ‘bout the plan,” says Ruby. “Vi should be in her room. She usually turns in early when she doesn’t have watch.”

Before leaving, Ruby turns to Mitch with one final warning, “Be nice.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

The feeling’s back, twisting in Clementine’s gut and accelerating her heart.

With that, they leave the basement.

---

The music room is filthy.

Usually, Louis doesn’t notice or even pay much attention to the cleanliness of any room within the school due to the fact this everywhere is dirty. It doesn’t matter how much Ruby pushes or how many times Aasim scolds them for leaving messes wherever they go, the school will never match the cleanly standards it had prior to the end of the world.

They have more important things to think about anyway, right?

Or maybe they just can’t be bothered.

Perhaps both.

But when he sat at the piano, fingers playing the keys he knew by heart, he noticed a thick layer of dust settled on the worn wood.

Swiping a finger across the top left him absolutely disgusted. To be honest, he can’t remember the last time he actually cleaned the piano, but given that the layer of dust is thick enough to make actual dust bunnies out of, it’s been a while.

In fact, the music room is kind of a disaster.

And he needs a better distraction anyway.

Sorting through the records he kept, he picks a classic record to play at random and gets to work.

Within an hour, he’s already filled an old cardboard box with the trash that once occupied the floor, the tables, and everywhere else that garbage built up over years. Old soda cans, soiled books, broken shards of glass by the windows- all gone.

Louis wipes down the piano with an old T-shirt he oddly found beneath the couch. Pictures from what looks to be a pirate comic fill the front of the shirt and for the life of him, he can’t remember whose shirt this is. Or was.

He knows he’s seen it before, knows someone wore it… someone not around anymore.

Shit.

Nevermind, he doesn’t want to think about that right now. Pushing that thought out of mind, he continues wiping away the dust. While the piano would always be worn, defaced, and out of tune, he still loved it and should remember to keep better care of it.

So many memories were made sitting here.

Most good, some bad.

Memories of him sitting there with clumsy fingers, young and untrained, awaiting his cue from Minnie as she finished jotting down lyrics to their song.

“Nevermind the darkness, nevermind the storm-”

Memories of him entertaining Tenn when he was scared of a thunderstorm, or playing something silly to make Violet smile.

Memories of him and Clementine the night of the delta attack.

“You are super cute.”

“Cute? Wow, uhm-”

Their first kiss.

Louis runs his finger over their initials encased in a heart, carved by Clementine’s own hand that night right before he opened up to her, thanked her for being with him despite… well, everything.

God, it seems so far away.

Since then, more memories have festered within these walls, here at the piano.

“For once, I don’t think you’ve thought this through.”

“Why?”

Satisfied with his work, Louis tosses the shirt away. He slips off his jacket, setting it over the arm of the couch before placing himself comfortably at the piano once more.

“First of all, it’s going to take us a million years to build all nine-hundred floors. Second, we’re going to need so much paint, and even with all of us helping, it’s going to take us two million years to paint it all! Third, nine-hundred floors means-”

“Nine-hundred and fourteen.”

A deep breath.

“Excuse me, nine-hundred and fourteen floors means this house is going to be high up in the stars- literally in space!- and you yourself said that you hate climbing stairs. Do you know how many sets of stairs we’re going to need to make it to the top?”

“We’ll have an elevator.”

“That goes through the whole place?”

“Yep. Up, down, and sideways.”

“That’s ridiculous. I love it.”

Eyes close.

Clementine laughs, pushing against his shoulder as he shakes his head. Whether his chuckle is due to the madness of Clementine’s floor plan, or because her fingers continue to purposely play the wrong keys, he doesn’t know anymore.

“Then, what about a slide?” she suggests. “A big metal slide that loops around and brings you from top to bottom in seconds.”

“I like it, I like it,” he ponders, tapping his chin thoughtfully. “Except, that won’t help us in actually getting to the top.”

The cool air blows in through the open window, flickering the flames of his candles and kissing the warmth of his cheeks.

“What’ll be at the top, anyway?” she asks. “What’ll be worth climbing all those stairs to see?”

“I don’t know, but it has to be something special.” He thinks about it for a moment. “What do you want?”

“Me?” she asks.

Pulling her hand off the keys, holding it in his own, he asks, “What do you want at the top?”

Another deep breath.

“I don’t know.”

“C’mon, Clem,” Louis urges. “Anything you want. Name it.”

She stares down at their linked hand, eyes drift shut as she thinks.

“Well… we have to have that skylight, right?”

“Obviously, but that’s something I wanted, remember?”

“Well, I want one, too. If we’re going to be up in space, I want to see it. Imagine seeing the moon that up close.”

“Maybe we’ll have aliens tapping on our roof.”

“I hope so.”

He kisses her forehead, then her cheek, whispering in her ear, “What do you really want, Clementine?”

Louis’ fingers move effortlessly.

His soft lullaby fills the air.

“A tree,” she says firmly. “An apple tree with bright red Honeycrisps, right in the corner, and it’s roots throughout the floor, and-” she grabs his hand, comparing it to hers by pressing their palms together, “- a piano in the center. Any kind you want.”

Their fingers lace together.

“A glossy, grand piano. Mahogany- the color of leaves in autumn,” he brushes a curl from her face, “unbreakable and always in tune.”

“And you’ll teach me to play?”

“You willing to climb nine-hundred and fourteen floors every day for your lessons?”

“Of course.”

It’s been a long time since he’s thought of their home- rather, their outrageous dream house that was inspired by the depressing story of how his own parents didn’t get to finish building their new home.

A royal purple, nine-hundred and fourteen floor mansion with a treehouse, a skylight, and an apple tree growing on the top floor. Several pools, movie theatres, pizza parlors, bedrooms, bathrooms with hot tubs and full body showers, aquariums, roller parks- and even with all those things, they still have plenty of room left.

Louis knows the possibility of that mansion coming to fruition is lower than low, they both know that, but it doesn’t make it any less fun to imagine.

How many nights did they stay up in bed discussing what kind of statue they wanted for the fountain, or what shade of purple they’d paint their bedroom, or how many dogs they would adopt, or if they were going to make Mitch sleep in the treehouse rather than giving him his own room?

Louis stops playing, chuckling to himself.

It’s been a long time since he’s played by himself happily, or since he’s thought of composing a brand new song. Usually, when he’s down here so late by himself, it’s to calm down after an all-consuming nightmare-

No.

Don’t think about that.

Don’t think.

“An apple tree with bright red Honeycrisps, right in the corner, and it’s roots throughout the floor...”

Maybe he can’t build Clementine an outrageous purple mansion, but he can write her a new song.

As Louis becomes lost in the music, a brief thought runs through his mind.

Finally... a nice night.

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chicgeekgirl89 · 4 years

Text

Mercy is Out of Your Reach: Chap. 5

Fandom: SEAL Team

Characters: Sonny Quinn, Clay Spenser, Lisa Davis, Jason Hayes, and the rest of the team

Read Chapters 1-4 Here

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A strangled, choking gasp pulled Clay from his sleep. “Sonny?”

Bravo Three lay on the floor, body rigid as he struggled to get air into his lungs. Clay moved toward him, shifting so he could get Sonny’s head into his lap. “Breathe,” he commanded, willing it with every fiber of his being. “Sonny breathe damn it!”

Sonny’s eyes remained closed, sweat beading on his forehead. Clay could feel the heat of his skin through Sonny’s shirt. He grabbed the hem of his own shirt and tore off a piece, dipping it in their water bucket and pressing it against Sonny’s forehead.

A moment later, too long for Clay’s comfort, Sonny sucked in a half decent breath and his eyes fluttered open. “Clay,” he rasped.

“Right here.” Clay squeezed his arm reassuringly. “How was your nap princess?”

Sonny tried for a chuckle but it ended with a series of coughs and a long wheeze that doubled Clay’s worry. “Gotta…get…my beauty sleep.”

“Well I hate to tell you this, it’s not helping much,” Clay said forcing a smile and dabbing more cool water on his forehead.

“Still prettier’n you.”

“And you always will be.”

Sonny shifted, wincing as another breath rattled around in his lungs. “Clay—“

Clay felt a ripple of fear down his spine. He knew that tone of voice. “You just shut up and relax all right? Pretend I’m Diamond or Candy or…Sunshine at the Pleasure Palace.”

“Listen—“

“Sonny—“

“You gotta let me say it.”

“We’re gonna get out of here,” Clay said, his voice cracking as he tried to stay calm. “You don’t need to say anything.”

“But if we don’t—“

“No!” Clay dabbed the cloth more furiously. “They’re coming. Jason, Brock, Trent, Ray, Metal, they’re all coming for us.”

“Sometimes,” Sonny wheezed, “sometimes the cavalry comes too late.”

“That’s not going to happen this time.”

“But if it does—“

“It won’t—“

“Damn it just let me talk!” Sonny huffed.

Clay went quiet, not ready for what he was about to hear. Sonny took a breath. “You been, you been real great. I know I’ve been…not myself lately and I’m sorry. Clay you’re my brother, and I—I was too torn up about my own stuff to be real nice about everything with Rebecca, so I’m sorry for that. You’ve been a good friend, a good teammate and it’s been-“ his voice caught, “it’s been an honor to serve with you.”

Clay’s throat felt tight. “You too brother.”

“I need you,” Sonny coughed painfully, “I need you to do me a favor.”

“Anything.”

“I need you to tell Lisa—“

“No.” Clay set his makeshift cooling rag down. This was too much. He couldn’t go through this again. They’d almost lost Sonny in that torpedo tube and it had been hell. Somehow watching it happen in front of his eyes like this was worse. “No whatever you have to say, you’re going to tell her.”

“Please. You gotta tell her,” Sonny swallowed trying for another breath, “tell her I still love her. And I wish,” he coughed, “I wish it woulda gone different.”

Clay swallowed down the tears filling his eyes as he gently stroked Sonny’s damp hair. “Yeah. I can do that.”

“Listen to me,” Sonny wheezed. “If you can…if you can get out of here. You go. You leave me here and you go.”

“I’m not leaving you,” Clay said roughly.

“Don’t be…an idiot. If you can leave…you get yourself out of here…and don’t worry about me.”

There was a commotion in the hall and the door opened, two men grabbing Clay and hauling him to his feet as Sonny slid off his lap. This time when he was dumped in front of Farhad he was alone. “What are you doing to my friend?” Clay asked.

“Your friend is dying,” Farhad said. “I don’t need him. He can’t tell me what I want to know when he’s barely conscious.”

Clay felt the bite of the man’s words in his gut. Time was running out and he had no way of helping either of them. “Just let us go man. Or ransom us or something,” Clay begged, once again lying through his teeth. A ransom video might give the team something to go on. “My parents, they’ll pay—“

“Enough!” The eyes turned on him were cold, glittering with hatred. “Enough of this nonsense. Tell me why you are in my country!”

“How many more times do I have to say it?” Clay asked. “We’re just backpacking—“

The blow to his back pitched him forward so his forehead cracked against the floor and he saw stars. What followed immediately was an assault on his ribcage so brutal he could feel as each one of them cracked. He curled into a ball, tried to protect himself from the blows raining down on him but it was impossible and all he could do was continue to try and stay alive as pain radiated from every part of his body.

He wasn’t sure how long it went on, he might have blacked out, but when it was finally over he could feel his right eye swelling shut and taste blood in his mouth. And breathing hurt like a bitch.

Farhad stooped low, speaking directly into his ear. “I am done. You think I am stupid? That I don’t know your team must be looking for you? I have other ways of gaining information. By the time they arrives I will be long gone. I will kill you and your friend and your team will find nothing but your mangled bodies—“

There was a tremendous bang and the whole room shook. Farhad stood up. “Take him back. Find out what’s going on. Now!”

Clay was dragged back to the cell, choking back cries of agony the entire way. They tossed him inside and he hit the floor with a strangled moan. He rolled onto his back and focused on staying conscious as each breath stabbed daggers through his chest.

“Clay?’ His name came out of Sonny’s mouth, raspy and choked.

“I’m all right,” Clay managed to get out. “I’m okay. But I think our time’s running out brother.”

“Yeah,” Sonny said, eyes closing again. “I thought it might be.”

Clay was still trying to figure out what had spared him from immediate death. A gas explosion? An attack?

The familiar staccato of gunfire came from down the hall. “Sonny,” Clay rasped. “Sonny d’you hear that?”

There was no response besides a labored, wheezing breath. “Sonny.” He tried to slide closer, but every movement was agony, and he could only drag himself a few inches before he had to stop.

More gunfire, closer this time. Footsteps pounded down the hall and the next thing he knew Jason Hayes and Brock Reynolds were looking at him through the bars like he was some kind of zoo exhibit. “Oh thank god,” Clay groaned as Jason used a key to open the door.

“Havoc Base this is Bravo One, we’ve got them. I repeat we have Sonny and Clay. Hey, you all right?” Jason dropped to his knees and put a hand on Clay’s shoulder.

“Get—get Sonny,” he moaned, curling in on himself as more pain stabbed through his ribs. “He’s bad Jase, he’s real bad.”

Jason’s eyes found Sonny in the far corner of the cell and he swore, keying his radio. “Bravo One to Bravo Four. Need you over here ASAP.”

“Copy that Bravo One. On my way,” Trent said.

“Can you sit up?” Jason asked Clay.

“Yeah, help me.” Clay sucked in a breath and tried not to scream as Jason got him more upright, grabbing onto his boss’ shoulder and squeezing tightly.

“Ribs?” Jason asked.

Clay nodded, trying to get the pain under control. “Sonny—“

“He’s breathing,” Brock assured him. He’d pulled Sonny into his lap, Cerb standing faithfully by his side.

“They dunked him,” Clay said between shallow breaths. “A lot. He’s got a fever, hasn’t been able to breathe.”

Trent arrived at that moment and got straight to work. “Here.” He handed Jason a shot of morphine. Clay breathed a sigh of relief as it took the edge off his pain, bringing it down to a level that was tolerable enough for him to think again. He abruptly remembered the reason they were here in the first place. “Jase! Jase, Farhad is here. He—“

“We know,” Jason said. “Don’t worry, we’ve got it under control.

Trent did a cursory examination of Sonny. “Probably pneumonia,” he said grimly. “His lungs sound bad. We gotta get him outta here.”

“I can walk on my own,” Clay said, but Jason silenced him with a look as he keyed his radio again. “Bravo Two how we looking out there?”

“Clearing you an exit now Bravo One.”

“Time to go.” Jason helped Clay to his feet. Even with the morphine. standing up doubled his pain and made his vision grey out.

“Hey, hey stay with me. We’re almost home,” Jason said roughly as Clay sagged against him.

Brock and Trent each took one side of Sonny and followed them down the hall. Clay spotted several bodies. Their boys had made quick work of the compound.

They made it almost all the way out of the building before they met resistance. Clay felt a horrible grating in his ribs as Jason took a sharp turn and shoved him behind a doorframe.

“Bravo Two we are taking heavy fire at the exit!” he yelled into the comms as he and Brock started firing back, while Trent held onto Sonny.

“Coming in hot!” Ray replied just before even more gunfire could be heard outside.

Within minutes the door was clear. “Let’s get you out of here,” Jason said, shouldering his weapon so he could get Clay up again.

They made it outside joining up with the rest of the team and a bunch of people in uniforms that Clay recognized as French special forces. “It is damn good to see your face,” Ray told him.

“You too,” Clay said, throat thick with relief.

“Let’s get them in the truck. Sonny needs help fast,” Trent said.

Clay didn’t even protest when his position in the truck ended up being cradled against Jason’s chest. He was exhausted and the morphine had started wearing off. “Start him on this.” Trent tossed Jason a bag of fluid and Jason began the IV in Clay’s arm while Trent hooked Sonny up to oxygen and his own IV’s.

“He told me to leave him,” Clay said, eyes glued to Sonny’s face.

“Course he did,” Jason muttered.

“They kept asking who we were. Wouldn’t give it up. If you hadn’t come when you did—“

“Hey, we got you now,” Ray said with a nod. “It’s all in the past.”

Clay let out a moan as the truck hit a pothole, jostling everyone onboard. “How’d you find us?”

“Davis. All Davis,” Jason said.

Thank god for that woman. He owed her so many beers. Heck he owed her a keg. Or maybe a yacht at this point.

Trent seemed satisfied with Sonny’s condition so he turned and looked at Clay, reaching for his wrist to take his pulse. “I’m all right,” Clay said, even though his head throbbed and his ribs felt like they’d been broken into thousands of tiny pieces.

“How’s your breathing?”

“My lung’s not punctured.” Clay let out a grunt as Trent lifted his shirt and began probing at him. “Just feels like it.”

“You could have internal bleeding.”

Trent hit a particularly bad spot and Clay jolted, letting out a pained cry. “All right, all right take it easy,” Jason said, as Clay fell back against him, heart hammering painfully in his chest. “You good?”

“Son of a bitch!” Clay gasped, fists clenched at his sides. “Oh god damn it that hurts!”

“Well your ribs are broke, of course they hurt,” Trent said gruffly.

“Tell me you got Farhad,” Clay said between gritted teeth. “Because if you didn’t I’m going back there to kill him myself.”

Jason nodded. “Metal, you ready?”

“We clear?” Metal asked.

“Roger that,” Brock told him from the driver’s seat.

“Then it’s boom time.” Metal pressed a trigger in his hand and Clay could hear an explosion in the distance.

“We got special permission to clean house,” Ray said with a grin.

“Clean or wipe it off the map?” Clay let out a chuckle, which he immediately regretted as pain stabbed through him. “Sonny woulda liked that.”

Ray looked at their buddy’s prone form. “We’ll tell him when he wakes up.”

#SEAL Team #Sonny Quinn #Clay Spenser #Jason Hayes #Mercy is Out of Your Reach #Clay Spenser Whump #Sonny Quinn Whump #SEAL Team Fanfiction #Sonny Quinn Fanfiction #Clay Spenser Fanfiction

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whatdoyouexpectthistime · 4 years

Text

Blood Spatter - Part 9

Part 1 : Part 2 : Part 3 : Part 4: Part 5 : Part 6 : Part 7 : Part 8

________________________________

Angrily, Miho growled at her aggressor as she was shoved into the next room. Her confusion, fear and ire suddenly paused, however, when her eyes fell upon two figures also present. They were on their knees, their hands bound behind their backs, one with bruises all over his face – left eye swollen – the other’s face torn by bloody tears.

Sebastian.

Selina.

“What the hell is this?” Miho barked as her abductor closed the door behind him.

For a moment there was a weighty silence, with Miho seeking answers from her friends, though in their beleaguered state they were the least likely to provide them.

“Unfortunately, we couldn’t do this in a gentler manner,” the man behind her declared, looking over Miho’s shoulder at his two compatriots.

“Do what?” Miho spat. “Because kidnapping and assault aren’t exactly synonymous with gentleness.”

“Whatever they say…” Sebastian began, but his sentence was broken when he was thumped on the back of the head with the grip of a gun.

Both Miho and Selina let out cries of protest, the former starting forward, but her arm was seized once more.

“Whatever we say, ultimately you’ll have a choice,” the man told her, his gravelly voice rough against her ear. “You have a purpose far and beyond the paltry existence you’re floating aimlessly through, and we’re going to make you face it.”

“My life is mine,” Miho grated, “and it has nothing to do with them. You need to let them go, let us all go.”

The response to this statement, was the barrel of a gun pressed to the back of Sebastian’s head.

Miho’s trembling increased, and Selina let out a thick sob.

“Please,” she begged, blood dripping from the tip of her chin.

“Why?” Miho gasped. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because Vérrún’s legacy vanished hundreds of years ago in a line of impotent male children,” the woman holding the gun to Sebastian’s head answered.

Sebastian’s eyes grew wide.

“Vérrún?” he blurted, his good eye flickering to Miho. “It’s not possible. That line was cursed.”

“Freya is incapable of forgiveness?” the man sneered. “She has no sense of irony giving his gifts to the child he murdered?”

A bitter, incredulous chuckle, crackled out from between his broken lips.

“You think she’s a reincarnation?”

“Reincarnation, curse broken, it matters not,” the man asserted. “She’s going to awaken and take up her ancestor’s mantle.”

It was clear Sebastian knew what it all meant now, as with a grimace, his focus turned to his sister.

“You can’t,” he snarled, and despite the threat of a bullet to his brain, he lunged sideways.

The force with which he was restrained should have fractured his cheekbone, his face slammed into the concrete floor and held there.

“Stop, stop it!” Miho barked, her face a snarl of viciousness. “You’re going to get nothing from me acting like savages.”

“We require your awakening regardless,” the man told her frankly, picking up a large knife from a tray behind him - a knife, perhaps closer to a machete. “Vérrún’s line has remained dormant since the beginning, but now the curse is lifted, you have the potential to be all that he was and more.”

“Still a shitty sale’s pitch,” Miho grated, teeth bared as the blade was offered to her.

“The choice before you is simple,” he told her, disregarding her commentary. “Kill the vampire and awaken, or decline, and we kill them both.”

Miho’s lungs seized up.

“Vampire?” she repeated, a cold sweat finally breaking out.

It couldn’t be Sebastian, he couldn’t have been turned or his wounds would have healed… which meant…

Swallowing the lump in her throat, Miho’s eyes fell upon Selina.

“Oh God,” she murmured, her head snapping back as the man put the knife hilt against her palm. “I will not be killing anyone.”

“Even if you do not apply the killing blow, you will still be responsible,” he pointed out. “Two, instead of one, and a fellow hunter - that would be tragic.”

“You fucking bastards!” she roared, gripping the blade, white-knuckled.

She could swing at them, but bullets moved faster.

It was impossible.

Impossible.

“I can’t kill Selina, I can’t, I can’t…”

Sebastian pleaded with her silently to do something, Selina too, but it was…

Impossible.

“You… you want me to kill a vampire? Where is the one who turned her?” she rushed desperately.

“We…”

“I’ll gladly kill that creature!” Miho declared vehemently.

How long had she been at the hospital? Selina was not a vampire when she left the club with Jazz; she could not have been turned that long ago, and it boggled Miho’s mind how quickly the world had yet again been turned on its head.

“That is not the choice before you,” the man said sternly.

“Why? Why them? You don’t need them to awaken me!” she protested, heart galloping a thunderous cadence.

The sound of gun hammers clicking caused the stampede to stumble.

“You’ll let him go?” she forced out, but the first reaction came from Sebastian, despite the cold streel against his head.

“No!” he shrieked, and on reflex Miho snapped back.

“The hell do you want me to do?” she fired, eyes burning, throat burning. "What can I do?”

“This one cannot be saved now,” the man pointed out, gesturing to Selina. “The question is only one of lesser evils.”

“The only evils here are you!” Sebastian snarled, and copped a heavy knee in the spine for his trouble. “You’re not hunters, you’re monsters!”

“Is this the moment I become a killer?” Miho wondered, as Sebastian’s shouting and Selina’s crying faded out, drowned, suffocated by gravity drawing the blade toward Selina’s neck.

“No… please…” she begs, held down by two, the man taking a handful of hair and forcing her head down. “Miho, please!”

“No matter what I do, I lose. No matter what, any innocence I have remaining will be demolished.”

“Miho, please!”

“And I’m selfish for thinking about how this will affect me. A murderer.”

Sebastian sounds like an angry bear as I ready my blade. They’ve ceased holding him at gunpoint, focusing instead on just keeping him prone, preventing him from intervening.

“I’m sorry,” Miho muttered, but it has to sound hollow to the condemned. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

Again Selina howled.

Then stopped.

The blade was impossibly sharp.

The thud of a head hitting concrete, grotesque.

It rolled to the side.

Looked up at Miho in horror.

Selina’s flesh did not burst into flame or crumble to ash like she thought a dead vampire’s might; it was like any other corpse.

A corpse because Miho made her one.

There’s blood on my hands – I can’t see it, but it is most definitely there.

Why they let me go, I don’t know; maybe they wanted to see what I’d do, where I’d go, who I’d call.

My feet are moving but they have no sense of direction or destination: invisible footprints in the asphalt as deep and dark as my sin.

They released Sebastian too, but on the dark roadside before dawn, he wouldn’t meet my eyes, couldn’t.

I can’t blame him.

I killed his sister.

He told me to leave, to walk, but never said where; and I know he’s angry, and in pain, and I shouldn’t feel angry at him for responding that way - but now what?

“Do you feel different now?”

All that talk about a cursed bloodline I’m supposed to be descended from, but the only curse I know now is my reality.

I cannot seek refuge with my best friend, a vampire who like Selina was turned. The shame alone is heavier than anything I’ve ever experienced.

I cannot run to Kiril, who made it clear the only thing that bound us was the witch’s spell now broken, regardless of whatever lingering emotions may still dwell within me.

And I cannot pretend I’m still me, or rather, I’m a different me who was - how could I not be with a conscience as stained as this?

Some part of me hopes Narumi finds me, so I can tell her everything and have it done with. Perhaps she would drag me before Kiril’s father and that would be the end of that. But I’m too stubborn to hand up my head on a silver platter, my drive to survive too strong to just roll over.

“Fuck,” I whimper, flopping down onto a park bench.

That word, however, just doesn’t cover it.

At least my head doesn’t hurt anymore.

“Ha!” I laugh aloud, alone with morning approaching.

“Caw!” a nearby crow echoes, hopping comically along the path toward him.

“Yeah?” I huff, watching as it tilts its head, observing. “If you’ve any advice… I’m…”

Thinking is one thing, but the moment I attempt to vocalise a proper sentence the words get caught up in my abject distress.

“What… SOB... do I do?”

“CAW!” the crow responds, much as I expect.

The voice that follows, I do not.

“Why might you be out here all by yourself?” Narumi asks from behind.

I might have flinched, but I’m too deep in my misery.

The bird hops up beside me, then onto Narumi’s shoulder, burrowing its beak into her hair while she moves around to face me.

“Has something happened, Miss Fujiwara?” she probes, leaning a little to study my face.

Even through the watery glaze across my eyes, I see her as different, different than the last time.

There is a bright glow in her eyes, like a cat caught in torchlight, and her hair is shiny: fine threads of polished metal.

“Are you… are you asking as a cop?” I managed, quiet and thick. “Or as Kiril’s cousin?”

Scrubbing my eyes makes room for more tears, but the lethargy of my body, the heaviness of a falling blade, has for some reason lightened. I’m on edge, furtive, noticing everything around me, and Narumi is at the centre of it all.

“For now, Kiril’s cousin,” she responds, sitting down beside me. “What has the idiot done now?”

My trembling lips betray a most inelegant splutter, a wet chortle.

“Not him,” I tell her, but I dare not reveal too much.

So I ask a question instead.

“Have you ever killed someone?”

“Yes,” she answers, no hesitation at all. “Sometimes, criminals give you no choice.”

Maybe she knows I’m not talking about her career, maybe not.

“No choice,” I repeat, face twitching to hold back another torrent. “Sometimes, there is no right, just evil and evil and the one who perpetrates it.”

“Have you killed someone, Miho?” she inquires more gently, and I close my eyes.

“I am lost, so, so, so lost,” I weep, shaking my head. “Can’t change what I’ve done, who I’ve hurt. I’ve nowhere to go now.”

“Against my better judgement, I’m going to call Kiril,” she tells me, then flinches when I suddenly get up.

“No, no, it’s broken now and he doesn’t want me.”

“What’s broken?”

“No! I can’t tell you that, none of it,” I bark, and she rises carefully with her hands before her.

“You have Kiril’s protection,” she assures me.

“Not anymore.”

The urge to run is overwhelming, and I haven’t the will to defy it.

My dart to the left gives me several second’s head-start, but Narumi nearly dislocates my shoulder snatching my wrist.

It’s a reflex, the way I round on her and shove with my free hand, but this instinct not only breaks Narumi’s hold, but throws her violently back, cartwheeling across the park until she tumbles into a manky pond.

And I blink at how easy that was.

Sopping wet and stunned, Narumi drags herself from the shallow water and sizes me up.

“That should not have been possible,” she points out, and even through my own surprise I hear the new edge to her voice.

This time, it’s my hands that go up.

“I know,” I admit shakily. “But it is, and it’s not my fault, it’s not - I had no choice!”

“No choice in what?” she very nearly growls.

She must have been going gently, gently, for Kiril’s sake, and vaguely it reminds me of when Kiril said he’d hate to have to kill Narumi because she was a threat to me.

“But that was when we were bound by magic.”

In my moment’s reverie, Narumi has swept in behind me, but she keeps her hands to herself - her tone, however, is full of warning and restraint.

“I… think you should call Kiril now,” I exhale weakly, despite my show of physical strength.

“After that, I know I shouldn’t,” she contradicts, and several small black shapes drift from the sky and perch nearby.

A murder.

Liana, Kai and Kiril all arrived at the same time, in a cab, not the Jag. As they entered, slivers of glass sparkled in Liana’s hair, and there was a little blood on Kevin’s yellow body. Miho might have commented on the state of Liana and Kai’s slight dishevelment, but she was trembling, twitching, preoccupied by the incessant bouncing of her right foot - up down up down up down.

Anything but look over at where Kiril stood on the other side of the room where Narumi had moved to greet him.

“Looking ravishing as always,” he noted, looking his muddy cousin up and down.

“You can thank your little pet for that,” Narumi grunted irritably. “Threw me good on twenty metres.”

“Is she hurt?” he asked, and Narumi put her hands on her hips, glaring.

“She bloody well should be sprawled at Konrad’s feet right now, Kiril!” she exclaimed, pointing over her shoulder. “And you too. Protecting a hunter? Are you fucking insane?”

“No doubt,” he agreed calmly, stepping around Narumi and approaching Miho with significant caution.

He too had felt the spell break, a searing slash across his consciousness distracting enough to not hear the ring of his phone until Jazz had called for the third time; Miho was missing from the hospital and no one had seen where she went.

“Miho,” he said cautiously, and her head lifted: neck muscles taut and jaw clenched.

“Here to kill me I suppose,” she said plainly, and Kiril’s brows twitched.

“If had wanted that, Narumi would have done it for me,” he pointed out, then paused.

She did not fill the silence.

“Tell me what happened,” he prompted, sitting down beside her, not crowding, but not lifting his attentive gaze.

Immediately, Miho’s eyes began to burn. With flushed face and dribbling nose, she jumped up and began to pace.

“I left the hospital, then… I passed out, and when I woke up I was inside, somewhere, and there were hunters…”

Kiril nodded, but made no comment.

“They said they’d been looking for me, and insisted I…”

That is as far as she got before crouching on the carpet, wrapping her arms around her knees and burying her face against them.

“I killed her!” she sobbed into her kneecaps.

“Who, Sparrow?” Kiril urged, with a gentleness that surprised Narumi who was definitely eavesdropping.

“Selina,” Miho gasped, choking on her shame.

“The stoned girl from Pale,” he nodded, moving over to her once more. “Ross’ sister?”

She couldn’t answer, could barely breathe.

“This may not work at all, but if you allow it in,” he said, finally placing his hand against hers. “Let me ease your panic and pain.”

Blearily, she looked up, but did not recoil.

Kiril could feel the natural resistance of her hunter blood now, blocking his influence of power over her emotions.

“Come on, Sparrow,” he urged softly. “Let me in.”

Lips quivering, Miho managed a slight nod, and the fortifications dissolved.

After a few long sighs, her sobbing began to subside, and Kiril was able to ease her to her feet and shuffle her back to the sofa.

“Better?”

Weakly, she inclined her head.

“They turned her, forced a vampire to turn her,” she expounded. “Then they said if I didn’t kill Selina, they would kill her and Sebastian.”

Kiril took this in, thought it over before voicing a response.

“I can understand why the hunters would want to awaken you - their numbers have dwindled in the last half century - but it makes no sense to make you their enemy in the process. Why Ross’ sister and not the one who turned her?”

“What am I supposed to do now?” she asked meekly, staring across the room at the wall. “Two vampires dead, a hunter woken and… Sebastian… must hate me now.”’

“If you were forced to do this or else see him killed also,” Kiril reasoned, “he will see as much, when the dust settles.”

A tap at the window drew the attention of Narumi only, and she opened it to allow a raven entry.

“We now know who they took to turn the Ross girl,” she announced, petting the bird’s glossy black feathers. “He was young, but his mother is Lady Elzebethe Archdall.”

Reflexively, Kiril cringed.

A noble.

“Konrad is going to learn of this,” Narumi warned.

Scowling, it was Kiril’s turn to pace.

“Liana,” his voice snapped. “Find me Sebastian Ross.”

With a curt nod, Liana assented and exited with Kai in tow.

“I do not like this,” Kiril muttered, stroking his chin.

“What’s to like?” Narumi laughed. “You’ll be lucky if he doesn’t order me to stake you, then myself for what we’ve already hidden.”

“No,” Kiril snapped. “This is politics, this is contrivance; hunters do not awaken their own like this, and I have doubts our involvement in this is a coincidence.”

“Your involvement,” Narumi corrected.

“Oh no,” he sniffed. “You made your choice, so you might as well help.”

“Help a hunter?” she chortled. “Why wait for Konrad to order it, I may as well stake myself now.”

“Use your legion to find the hunters that did this,” Kiril growled, glaring at his cousin until his head snapped to where Miho had begun moving toward the door. “And where are you going?”

“Away,” she dropped. “From her and you and this.”

“Like hell you are,” Narumi retorted, in a blink barring the exit.

“There is nowhere far enough you can run that Konrad won’t hunt you down,” Kiril affirmed.

“So far he doesn’t even know, and if he did what? I should just wait here for him to find me?” she frowned, spreading her hands, then pointed at Narumi. “For her to lose her nerve and turn me in?”

“That’s my job,” Narumi countered irritably. “One I will no doubt lose, along with my head, thanks to you.”

“I didn’t ask for this,” Miho barked, cutting the air with her fingertips. “You! You and yours in my club messing with people’s hearts and minds.”

“I’m about to mess with more than that,” Narumi warned, already stepping in Miho’s direction again, before Kiril’s arm dropped between them.

“Enough! The both of you,” he shouted. “I forbid you from harming her.”

Narumi balked, eyes wide and mouth agape.

“You forbid me?” she repeated slowly, threat creeping into her voice. “Oh, I called you out of familial courtesy, but that is obviously not, nor has it ever been, high on your agenda.”

She tried to dodge around him, reached for Miho who did not move, but swiftly found herself slammed against the wall a foot off the ground, with Kiril’s grip tightly around her throat.

“I will end you,” he hissed up at her, eyes blazing.

“You’ve lost it!” Narumi croaked, digging her fingernails into his wrists, through the flesh, against the bone.

He was older than her, stronger than her, and her inherited powers would not help her against him.

“Maybe so,” he snarled. “But this is the way things will be, and if you double-cross me - Konrad or no - I. Will. End. You.”

There was no time for her to respond before he pitched her across the chamber, and though she turned in the air to make a more graceful landing than Miho might have managed, it still ended with the crash of splintering wood and torn upholstery.

“Time to leave,” Kiril prompted, reaching for Miho’s hand, but she was swift to recoil.

Still, when he narrowed his eyes at her, she inhaled deeply, set her jaw, then headed out the door.

With Kiril’s resources at her disposal, Liana made her way to the registered address of Sebastian Ross. Even though she thought it unlikely the traumatised hunter would return to his primary abode, it was a place to begin.

“What are we going to do when we find him?” Kai asked, carrying Kevin from the car with him. “He’s a hunter, so…”

“We shall be careful,” Liana responded. “I imagine he will be much like a wounded animal - he may snap.”

“You’re stronger than him though, right?”

At the front door, Liana paused to consider this. In her travels with Kiril she had encountered hunters not bound by the treaty in effect across the U.K., but she had always been apart from the fray.

“I would sooner we didn’t have to test this,” Liana replied. “Master Kiril wishes him unharmed.”

”If he attacks you, I won’t hold back,” Kai stated, puffing up. “Neither shall Kevin.”

“And you’re both very brave,” she smiled fondly. “But let’s first aim for diplomacy.”

“I don’t care who you are,” a gravelly voice snarled through a nearby intercom. “Fuck off.”

“Well, that is a surprise,” Liana mused, allowing herself a small smile. “It would seem he’s home.”

“And rude.”

“Well,” Liana chided, “a close friend did just murder his sister in front of him, so we might give him a pass on foul language for now.”

She then lifted her voice and pressed down on the intercom.

“Mr. Ross,” she began, and Kai recognised this as the tone of voice she used when she was attempting to convince him of something he most adamantly did not want to do. “My name is Liana Starling and my companion is Kai. We have come on a matter of great importance and to offer assistance.”

Silence followed as she paused, and Liana gave him some time to process what she said and respond.

But he did not, so she forged on.

“I understand you have suffered terribly this evening. You have been caught up in dealings beyond your control, and largely beyond the control of Miss Fujiwara.”

That got a reaction.

The inner door opened violently, and a rather intimidating looking firearm preceded the apartment’s resident, though both remained behind the security door.

Kai, though a child in appearance and quite short even for his apparent age, slid instantly in front of Liana with his arms outstretched. Liana, however, remained perfectly composed.

“Your emotions are raw,” she said gently, nodding her head a little. “But there is unfortunately more to this tragedy than what you witnessed this evening, and now you are a part of it.”

“Why are you here, vampire?” he spat, his aim not wavering.

Though several feet away, Liana could smell the alcohol on his breath; he’d imbibed so much, in fact, she was sure she could smell it in his blood.

“Miho Fujiwara was the victim of a spell cast by as yet unknown parties,” she answered. “This led to her involvement with Kiril Lambert who…”

“Bullshit!” Sebastian spat, the muzzle of his weapon slamming loudly into the taut lattice weave that separated them. “She went chasing Konstantin Lambert…”

“Yes,” Liana agreed, and continued before he could. “In order to locate your mutual friend, Miss Mann, and while you may not have agreed with or appreciated Mr. Lambert’s help, surely you hoped for Miss Mann’s safe return.”

“I’m only going to ask this one more time,” Sebastian grated through clenched teeth, “then I’m going to destroy you both, treaty be damned. Why are you here?”

“I was told by Mr. Lambert to locate you,” Liana answered calmly, even as Kai shifted his meager weight nervously from foot to foot. “Implicit in his instruction was the directive to inform you of details you could not yet be privy to, and accompany you to his estate.”

Exhausted by distress and fury, the laugh that shook from Sebastian’s chest was at best sardonic.

“You have ten seconds to get off my doorstep,” he chuckled, waving his gun around, “before I kill you, oh, and send whatever’s left behind back to Mr. Lambert.”

“You will not,” Kai growled. “Magic forced Miss Fujiwara and Kiril together, and those hunters kidnapped her and made her choose - she didn’t want to kill you, it’s not her fault!”

“Six seconds,” Sebastian sneered.

“The vampire used to turn your sister was the son of a powerful noble, so that in and of itself will come to haunt the hunters of this city, you included, whether you’re independent or not,” Liana picked up, though she still remained unruffled. “The ones who forced Miss Fujiwara’s hand have an agenda here far and beyond the awakening of another hunter, and it may very well cause blood to run in the streets of London as it once did.”

“You want to talk about blood?” Sebastian snarled.

“I want to talk about all the other innocent lives that may be lost if the vampire nobility decide what befell their kin was an act of war,” Liana clarified. “It will reach far and beyond your fledgling friend Jazz, whose position is already precarious; people who have nothing to do with any of this, and certainly have no knowledge of it, will be caught helplessly in the crossfire.”

When Sebastian slammed his bare fist into the wire door, it punched all the way through, causing Kai to flinch against Liana, who placed her hands lightly on his shoulders.

“I just lost the only family I have left!” Sebastian roared, following his punch with a kick that launched the door outward at speed.

Had Liana not sidestepped, dragging Kai with her, it would have collected them both.

“You want me to give a fuck about anyone else right now?”

“What I want is irrelevant,” she pointed out, fingers tightening on a little as she felt him tensing to move. “What is necessary to avert a major catastrophe, however, is your co-operation. You do not have to like it, me, or anyone else involved, but it is what it is. Beneath your pain, you know this to be true.”

“Fucking, manipulative vampires!” he cursed, enraged but somehow his eye reflected at least some acceptance of what she had said.

“I don’t care if you hate me!” Kai muttered under his breath, then glared up at Sebastian. “But Liana is trying to help you and your friends, so you should stop being so mean.”

“Keep your minion out of my way,” Sebastian growled, eyes flashing before he stalked past them down the path.

PART 10 - Coming EVENTUALLY!

#original fiction #vampire #vampire fiction #vampire romance #kiril lambert #konstantin lambert #miho fujiwara #sebastian ross #jazz mann #conflicting loyalty #blood spatter #witches #hunter #original content #OC #manipulation #spells #politics #drama

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marvelswinterfrost · 4 years

Text

1943

Summary: Set in the year 1943. The first Stark Expo is about to take place in Queens and a very interested Bucky drags Steve with him. To his dismay, his best friend didn’t seem to share the same excitement he felt. Luckily there are plenty of people around him who do, especially one black haired man he’d love to spend more time with.

Characters: Bucky Barnes, Loki Laufeyson, Steve Rogers Pairing: 40s!Bucky Barnes x Loki Laufeyson Genre: tiny bit of fluff Words: - Warnings: war (mentioned)

A/N: Sorry, this is NOT a STUCKY fic. They’re just bros in this one. Really good bros though. I might add one or two more chapters as well but idk.

Chapter One | Chapter Two ...

Masterlist

…

Bucky was walking down the street, his hands in the pockets of his pants. It was getting late, the evening sun slowly replacing the bright, warm light of the day. He’d heard that a science fair was taking place somewhere. Howard Stark himself, the man of the future, brought old and young together to admire one of his latest inventions. It was being kept a secret, but Bucky felt like it would be something that would change their lives forever.

He hadn’t told Steve yet. The small boy had been too busy, finding a way into the military to serve in the war. Without luck. Bucky was glad he couldn’t manage to enlist yet, even if it was one of the biggest dreams. He knew Steve was stubborn, he wouldn’t give up that easily, and the brown-haired man knew it. But this tiny boy from Brooklyn was so fragile. His medical issues, his height, poor boy had so much heart; too much heart. But nevertheless, he thought that Steve might need a break from all of this. So here he was, walking down the main street, the sun setting behind him and on his way to get his best friend. He was probably causing trouble somewhere. Always picking fights with people much taller than himself. Damn fool.

As if Bucky had known, there was a small voice coming from a nearby alley telling someone to fuck off. “Steve...” Bucky sighed and shook his head. It wasn’t anything new. He’d saved the smaller man so often it became a second job. He entered the small path, seeing his best friend barely standing straight anymore, his lip bleeding and a tall guy hovering above him, keeping Steve from running away. `As if he’d run’, Bucky thought and smirked a little.

“Hey! Why don’t you pick on someone your size?” The soldier yelled as he dragged the aggressive man away from Steve. With a punch to the face, he went away, mumbling something under his breath.

“Stevie-“Bucky smirked, his head and chin raised a little bit. “I recall me telling you to stay out of fights you can’t win?”

Steve straightened his jacket with a loud huff. Having asthma and trying to fight a guy 4 times his size didn’t mix well.

“He started it, Buck.”

“Of course-“said Bucky. It was barely audible and more of a sigh than an answer.

“He was talking incredibly loud during the news. People were trying to pay attention!” Steve continued defending himself. Bucky had already slung an arm around the other man’s shoulder and led him out to the main street again.

“Look, I care about you, alright, Steve?” the taller man said. “I don’t wanna read in the newspapers some day that a tiny, slim, blond boy was found dead on the streets beaten to death by a maniac. All just because you’re too stubborn to run.”

“I can’t do that, Buck.”

“I know.” He sighed. “But do it for me, alright?” Bucky looked at his friends with pleading eyes. When he received a tiny nod, he smiled. “Good! Now let’s go!”

“Where are we going?” Steve asked as Bucky dragged him forward.

“The future!”

About 20 minutes later they stepped onto the grass covering the ground of the expo area.

“Can you smell it, Stevie? The future smells amazing.” Bucky laughed and spun around a little.

“Sure, if you like the smell of gasoline.” He shrugged, putting a strand of his hair away from his face.

5 minutes later Howard Stark came up on the stage. Bucky’s heart started beating faster at the sight of a big object being brought in after him, hidden underneath a large blanket. “Ladies and Gentlemen! Welcome to the future!” he began. Bucky was utterly amazed. Even more so when the man on the stage pulled the blanket from the now exposed object.

“A car?” Bucky said, the disappointment lingering in his voice. But was soon washed away once the wheels were suddenly taken off. “What the hell?”

“-but this isn’t a normal car, Ladies and Gentlemen. No! Before us lays a future where wheels are no longer needed!” Stark went on about how his new invention will change all of humanity and Bucky listened to every word he said.

“You’re drooling, Buck.” Steve laughed and looked around the expo, clearly looking for something. Bucky thus came out of his daze and smiled.

“How can you not when looking at this car?”

“Oh, I don’t think it’ll do very well.” Came a deep voice from beside the soldier. Bucky turned around with a smug grin.

“No? Why’s that?” his grin only getting wider when he saw the man standing in front of him. He let his eyes wander the tall man’s body up and down, licking his lips.

“The construct seems rather unstable. Once it takes off, it will fall apart within seconds.” The stranger now smiling as well. His arms were crossed in front of his chest, but his eyes remained where they were. Looking straight forward to the stage to see if he was right. Bucky joined him.

To his surprise, the stranger was right. The car hovered over the ground for about 10 seconds before it came right back down again. He gulped.

“There’s no way you didn’t know what was going to happen beforehand.” Bucky laughed as he turned to the stranger again. Pleased with himself, he let his focus wander to the uniformed soldier, admiring how it fit his muscular body.

“I didn’t. But I’ll be glad to tell you how I could guess what was going to happen.. sometime.” He gave Bucky a cheeky wink. The soldier stared at the man, his mouth hanging slightly open in a big smile. His head started nodding automatically, as if an unknown force had taken control over his body.

Steve, reading the situation well, cleared his throat, hoping to gain the attention of his best friend again to tell him he’d be off to try his luck, enlisting again, but he failed. Bucky’s attention was drawn to the handsome stranger in an olive-green suit. Steve tried again. This time he succeeded.

“Hey, Buck. I’m off trying my luck again, alright? Don’t wait for me, it’ll probably take a while.” He said, keeping a few strands of hair from covering his face yet again.

“Sure, Stevie. Make sure they won’t catch you, okay? I don’t wanna bail you out again.” Bucky turned back to the tall man and smiled again. “But I think I’m going to be busy as well.”

“Yeah, whatever. Just don’t win the war until I get there, okay?” Steve gave him a tight hug, standing on his toes so that Bucky wouldn’t have to come all the way down. “Whatever you say, punk.”

“Jerk.” And Steve went off.

“Are you going to be drafted soon?” the black-haired man said. Raising his right eyebrow, a bit.

“Yeah, day after tomorrow. What about you? You’re one of the only men hear not wearing a uniform.” Bucky looked the man up and down once more. He was dressed in an olive-green three-piece suit, dark brown leather shoes and a tie. The hat sitting loosely on his head, making some of the black strands of hair on the back visible.

“You’re not from here, are you?” Bucky asked, grinning from ear to ear.

“I’m afraid not, soldier.” He chuckled.

“James, actually.” He laughed, looking the other man directly in his eyes. “But you can call me Bucky as well.” Bucky said as he held out his hand. The stranger took it gratefully.

“Loki.”

“Loki?” the soldier asked amused. “That’s an odd name. Where are you from?”

“From far away.” He smirked.

“Alright, I see you’re keeping it a secret. Sure hope I’m not flirting with a spy.” Bucky chuckled, but kept the eye-contact.

Loki reached for the soldier’s arm and dragged him gently away from the crowd. Bucky wasn’t used to be the one being led but feeling the big but gently hand guiding him off the expo area was…enjoyable? Just outside they came to a halt.

“I hope you don’t mind but it was getting really crowded and I prefer a calmer atmosphere.” Loki said in a soft voice. His hand was still laying on Bucky’s arm, not that he minded.

“A calm atmosphere at an expo? You’re so strange.” Bucky took a step closer, letting Loki’s hand drop from his arm to his waist. Luckily the other man understood what he was trying to say and grabbed it gently. Didn’t matter how Loki held him, it was always so god damn gentle. Bucky pressed him a little bit against the wall they were standing in front of. To their luck, most of the people were still busy looking at Stark’s inventions than standing in the dark at the back-entrance.

“I don’t think we should do this out here in the open, but I really have the desire to kiss you right now.” Bucky whispered softly, getting closer and closer.

“Why not do it? I’ve got my hands under your uniform already anyway. If they stare, then they stare.”

“Mhm, as much as I like to, I can’t risk anyone seeing me and snitching on me.” He pulled back, taking Loki’s hands from his hips and holding them in his. “Someone’s gotta win the war, you know? And I can’t do that when I’m getting kicked out of the military now, can I?”

“I hate to see you being part of something so cruel.” Loki shoved Bucky’s hat a little bit back so that a few of his brown strands of hair fell forward.

“You’ve known me like 30 minutes.” Bucky laughed, finally taking off his hat.

“I know a kind man when I see one.” Loki replied softly, kissing the other man’s forehead. “We should get going now, shouldn’t we? To do the `thing’ we shouldn’t be doing in public.” He laughed.

“Well, what are you waiting for then, doll?”

#winterfrost #marvel #mcu #marvel cinematic universe #loki #loki laufeyson #bucky #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #loki/bucky #bucky/loki #lokixbucky #buckyxloki #fanfic #taggingthisasmymasterlistdontmindme

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cherryeol04 · 4 years

Text

The Firsts

Summary: No one ever told him that living was going to be so difficult. That there would emotions get couldn’t label and distinguish. He’s just a young boy trying to navigate through life and its unexpected ups and downs.

Genre: Humor, Fluff, smut(?)

Pairings: Oc x Felix, Oc x Changbin, Changbin x Oc x Felix

Warnings: poly relationship, angst in some part, excessive fighting about the MCU.

Parts: Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9 / Part 10 / Part 11 / Part 12 / Part 13 / Part 14 / Part 15 / Part 16 / Part 17

A/N: This story has a theme of Firsts. First love, first kiss and many other firsts. Each part can be read on their own and are meant to stand as oneshots. It’s basically a collection of oneshots (little snapshots into my Oc’s life. 😁)

Aiden tackled Changbin onto the floor the moment the other opened the door. Groans of pain left both of them as Aiden scrambled closer and laid himself over Changbin, hands clutching at his shirt. “Jesus Christ, Aiden. What the hell?” Changbin wheezed out between pained gasps and confused grunts as the smaller of the two wiggled himself into a comfortable position on top of Changbin. Changbin was hesitant, but after a long pause of silence, he wrapped his arms around Aiden and stroked his head gently.

“Hey, are you okay?” He asked gently. Aiden shook his head quickly, burying his face into Changbin’s neck as he clung even tighter to him. “What’s wrong?” The worry in Changbin’s voice pulled a whimper from Aiden as he slowly pulled back and stared down at him.

“Felix wants to kiss me.” He whispered. Changbin raised a brow, a tsk leaving him as he rolled his eyes.

“Seriously? You nearly kill me because your boyfriend wants to kiss you?” He asked as he shoved Aiden off of him, the younger male falling to the side with a pathetic whine. “Then just kiss him.”

“I don’t know how!” Aiden wailed, arms flailing about on the floor as he kicked his feet haphazardly, nearly hitting Changbin’s stomach a few times. “I’m gonna suck! And then he’s gonna dump me and date someone who knows how to kiss! Someone who’s totally more experienced than me and would fit him better and -“ Aiden was silenced when Changbin leaned over him, giving him a hard stare. It was breathtaking. Changbin was breathtaking and if it weren’t for the fact he was already dating Felix, maybe Aiden could see himself with the other. But then again, that was also his best friend who, for all Aiden knew wasn’t gay. Though there was that one time in Changbin’s room, so he had to be at least bisexual, right?

“You just got together with him and you’re already talking about insecurities. Come on dude, grow some balls. Felix isn’t like that.” Changbin told him with a huff as he sat back.

“I know that. Felix is wonderful. So funny, and cute and cuddly - I just want to pinch his cheeks!” Aiden cooed, a wide smile on his lips as he thought back to the last time he hung out with Felix and just how gorgeous he was with his freckles so prominent against his tan skin.

“Gross.” Changbin gagged and Aiden pouted, kicking him lightly in the side. “Even if he’s adorable and shit, it doesn’t take away from the fact that I don’t know how to kiss someone. What if I’m horrible at it?” Sitting up, Aiden sighed heavily as he stared at the floor. “I don’t want to be a bad kisser.

“Everyone is a bad kisser, Aiden. No one starts out as perfect. They only get that way by practice. So the more you kiss someone, the better you get.” Changbin advised with a nod of his head. Lifting his head, Aiden eyed Changbin suspiciously.

“How would you know that? Who have you been kissing, huh?!” He asked, smirking as Changbin sputtered and tried to make up an excuse to not give him an answer.

“Hey! Listen here, this isn’t about me. It’s about you!” Changbin said quickly, but the slight flush on his cheeks told Aiden just how embarrassed his friend was. And now Aiden was curious as to who Changbin has been kissing. “If you’re that nervous, just practice on your hand.”

“My hand?”

“Yeah. Just keep kissing the back of your hand. Supposedly it helps.” Changbin shrugged. Aiden was a little skeptical about this, but he trusted Changbin, so he might as well as try out his advice.

“Okay! I’ll try it and I’ll tell you how things go!”

“Please don’t. I can’t handle any more of your TMI phone calls in the middle of the night.” Changbin groaned. Aiden snickered as he stood up and dusted himself off.

“Unfortunately you are just not gonna be that lucky. Wish me luck my friend, I have a date!” Aiden said with a renewed sense of confidence.

“Are you shitting me? You have a date and yet you came here to cry?” Changbin asked as he stood up, arms crossed.

“What can I say? I needed my friend’s support.” Aiden grinned as he waved to Changbin, leaving.

~*~

Aiden shifted in the movie theater seat, scrolling through his Instagram feed as he waited for Felix to come back with their snacks. They had decided that Aiden would go in and get them decent seats before they were all taken and Felix would suffer through the long lines at the concessions to get them delicious treats. Though Aiden wasn’t sure if he would even eat half of whatever Felix brought back. Most of the time when he saw movies, he was too engrossed in what he was seeing to even care about eating popcorn or drinking his soda. However, he strangely always had to pee afterward.

“Okay.” Aiden jumped at the sudden voice and he looked up at the blonde standing next to him. “Popcorn.” Felix called off as he handed it to Aiden. “Soda.” Aiden took the offered beverage and place it in the cup holder of his armrest, Felix doing the same with his drink. “Candy.” Four different boxes were held up and Aiden stared in awe at his choices. M&Ms, Snow Caps, Skittles or gummy bears. He commended Felix on his choices, Aiden loved them all.

“Do I only get one?” He asked, a slight pout playing on his lips as Felix chuckled.

“Two. Or we could share all four.” He offered as he finally sat down next Aiden, resting the boxes in his lap. “Your choice.”

“My choice?” Aiden gasped out. “Wow, buys my ticket and gives me a choice in the snacks, what a gentleman.” He teased, laughing lightly.

“Hey, I got to treat my date right.” Felix shrugged, smiling brightly under the dim lights of the theatre.

“You’re doing great so far, A+! Keep it up and I’ll give you a tip afterwards.”

“Oh? Well with such a promise, I’ll do my best to please you.” The teasing tone of Felix’s voice had Aiden blushing lightly as he realized the innuendos that could be drawn from his statement. Not that it was a bad thing, but the prospect of it did make Aiden nervous.

“Okay then. I want to share all of them.” He finally decided and reached over to take the Snow Caps box, because they were indeed his favorite. There was a hum of acknowledgement as Felix worked on getting comfortable while shoveling a handful of popcorn in his mouth. Aiden worked on opening the box and pouring a few of the chocolate bites into his hand. His favorite thing to do with Snow Caps was to rub off the sprinkles on them and just eat all the chocolate first. Afterward, he would munch on the sprinkles - though he wasn’t exactly sure how that would work with sharing the food with Felix, but he’d figure something out eventually.

The lights dimmed as the commercial for them to silence their phones played. Humming softly, Aiden popped a few more Snow Caps in his mouth as the previews started, his attention taken by the different movies that would be coming out within the next couple of months. There were few that caught his attention, mostly horror or the Marvel ones. He was so ready to watch Captain Marvel and End Game. But those were movies for another date. He had convinced Felix to instead watch a horror movie with him despite his pleas to not torture him like that. Settling back in his seat, his eyes scanned the large screen as the movie began and everything seem to just fade away around him.

It had to be a good half an hour into the movie when he felt a hand touch his left shoulder and he jerked, biting back a scream. Whipping his head around, he stared at the hand that was resting comfortably on his shoulder and realization struck him quickly. Turning to his right, he looked at Felix who had a bemused smile on his face and he pouted. “Rude.” He whispered lowly, leaning closer to Felix so the other could hear him.

“It was funny.” Felix snickered, fingers flexing and tightening a bit on his shoulder. Aiden’s heart raced as he leaned closer with Felix’s guidance and he laid his head on the blonde’s shoulder. It was the most awkward cuddling he had ever done for the simple fact that there was an armrest between them that was digging painfully into Aiden’s side. He used that pain as a distraction for how nervous he felt. He was actually cuddling Felix - and while they had cuddled before - this just felt so damn intimate. He wanted more, but there was only so much he could do in public, in a movie theatre.

He tried his best to pay attention from then on, but it was hard. Everything about Felix was intoxicating - his smell, his touch, his existence. And despite being afraid of doing something to ruin the moment or embarrassing himself, Aiden really wanted to spend more time curled up against him. It was so nice. He was curious if Felix was being affected the same way he was, or if he was watching the movie. Shyly, he lifted his head slightly to peer up at him, breath hitching in his throat as he met such an intense gaze from his boyfriend.

They were piercing right into his soul and warmth was spreading across his cheeks. Aiden averted his eyes quickly and was going to lower his head again but Felix gripped his chin with his other hand - fingers slick with the butter from the popcorn - keeping him from doing so. Aiden’s breathing picked up as Felix leaned closer and he knew this was it. Felix was going to kiss him and even though he wanted to push him away, his heart was screaming at him to sit there and accept it, so he did.

Fireworks? Hell yeah. Tingles? All up and down his spine. Felix’s lips were soft and buttery as they slotted against his own. His eyes fluttered close as he focused on the feelings running through him - in awe at the way that just a little head tilt and slight movement of Felix’s lips against his could pull a soft moan from the back of his throat. It was soft, tender and way to fucking short. It only felt like a second had passed when Felix pulled away, Aiden leaning forward to chase after his lips for another kiss. The soft chuckle that left Felix had Aiden’s eyes opening and he pouted at him.

“You’re so beautiful.” Felix whispered and Aiden blushed heavily as he finally pulled back and looked away.

“Thank you.” Though he wasn’t sure if his voice could be heard over the movie. It didn’t matter though. Felix’s grip on his shoulder tightened again, pulling Aiden back against him. Aiden resumed his previous position, resting his head once more on Felix’s shoulder, eyes staring at the screen ahead, but his mind was anywhere but on the movie.

He did it. He kissed Felix and it had been wonderful. And Felix didn’t pull away repulsed or anything. He just told him how beautiful he was. It made his heart flutter. All this time worrying was for nothing. And now that he had a taste, he wanted more. He couldn’t wait to get Felix back to his room so he could kiss him more.

#stray kids #skz #fanfic #stray kids fanfic #skz fanfic #stray kids au #skz au #stray kids fanfic au #skz fanfic au #au story #the firsts #humor #fluff #changbin #felix #felix x oc #changbin x oc #changbin x oc x felix

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winchesterbrotherstan · 4 years

Text

Agents of Shield- The Asset

Pairing: Leo Fitz x Violet Ward (OC)

Summary: An old man is kidnapped, Skye struggles with her training, Grant, Skye, and Coulson go in head-first, Violet is worried about everything

Warnings: cursing, fighting, an explosion, uh maybe some blood?

Word Count: 8786

“Is she coming?” I held the punching bag steady for Grant, trying to put equal weight on both my legs.

“She’s supposed to be. Hey, ease up on your leg if you need to.” He pointed, stopping his punches, noticing how I shifted from one leg to the other.

“It’s fine.” I shook my head.

“No, it is not. Listen to him.” Fitz scolded from the lab.

“Shut up, Leo.”

“I’m sorry, love, but the boys are right. Don’t put too much stress on it, or you’ll be back to square one with fingers through your stitches.” Jemma gave me a kind smile, hinting to a few nights ago when our bus had been attacked.

“Haha.” Grant taunted, sticking his tongue out.

I took a jab at him, only for him to step to the side and catch me in a headlock. He laughed as I shook loose, eyes squinted.

“That was uncalled for.” I stuck my nose up in the air, turning my head to the side and ignoring him.

He cleared his throat and I looked to see Skye coming down the steps. Grant put his serious face on and went back to punching the bag.

“You know you’re late.” He eyed her.

“I’m tired from this morning’s workout. I thought I was joining S.H.I.E.L.D., not 24 hour fitness.” She sighed, giving him her hands so he could check over her wrappings.

“It’s called relative strength training. Starting with the basics. And next time, you do fifteen push-ups for every minute you’re late.” He readjusted one.

“Fine, Mr. Fun Machine. Better than pull ups. I don’t ever wanna do another pull up again.” She stated.

“You find yourself hanging off the edge of a building twenty stories up, you’re gonna wanna do at least one.” He gave her a face before turning to instruct her.

I turned to watch Fitz-Simmons in the lab, working on some sort of laser or whatever it was. Fitz caught me staring and winked at me with a goofy smile before going back to his work.

“I’m sure Fitz-Simmon’s supervising officer didn’t make them do this muscle stuff.” She hit the bag with both hands.

“You said you wanted to be a field agent, like Coulson.” Grant shrugged. “But, if you’d like to switch disciplines…” He nodded toward Fitz-Simmons, still hard at work in the lab, then looked at me.

Is she being serious?

I gave her a once-over and smiled at Grant.

Let me take care of it.

“Vi, what did your SO make you do when you were in training for psych?” Grant looked at me with eyebrows raised and a smile on his face.

“Psychoanalytics, fill-ins for the DSM-5, brain parts, ethics… I can keep going. Hey Simmons. What did your SO give you guys for morning drills?” I called out to her from my spot against the wall.

“Oh! Atomistic attribute drills. Yeah, we’d name the mechanical, chemical, thermal-” She spouted.

Skye rolled her eyes at me and threw a lazy punch.

“The electrical properties of materials.” Fitz finished.

“Okay, okay, they made your point.”

“There will come a moment where you have to commit to this or bail.” Grant moved around the bag to hold it for her. “Every field agent has a defining moment. Ask Coulson. When you have to make the hard call to either dedicate yourself to this or to curl up in a ball and run.”

“How can you run if you’re curled up in a ball?” Skye gestured before going back to throwing punches.

“It’s my job as your SO to make sure you don’t die before then. Come on.” He fixed her hands and patted the bag again.

“So what was yours, Agent Ward?” She asked him.

“Ten minutes.” He dodged the question.

“Your defining moment?”

He ignored her.

“Come on, tell me. I wanna know. I could get Coulson to give you some of that truth serum. You could spill your little heart to me all over again.” She smiled.

“You mean my level one overshare that miraculously got you to cooperate? I hate to tell you this, rookie, but we don’t have a truth serum.”

“Changing course, briefing in three. Shield 6-1-6 with new orders, set for Colorado air field north.” May came over the comms.

“Ah, looks like we’re on the move.” Fitz pulled his lab coat off and hung it in the corner before coming to my side and taking my hand, leading the way up the stairs.

We settled on the couches in the main room, sprawled out as Coulson came through the hallway. Fitz pulled me into his side and I swung my leg over his, comfortable in his grip.

“A few minutes ago, a S.H.I.E.L.D. transport was attacked while carrying a priority red protected asset off route 76 near Sterling.”

“Priority red?” Jemma asked, and Grant let out a low whistle as he sat on the armchair next to Fitz and I.

“The asset was Canadian physicist Dr. Franklin Hall, known for his work-”

“Oh no! Not Frank!” Jemma gasped.

Fitz leaned forward, a sad expression on his face, “Dr. Hall? He was our chemical kinetics advisor our second year.”

“Yeah, he’s so enthusiastic about science, we just adored him!” Jemma sighed. “We can rescue him, can’t we?”

“He’s one of ours. We’re gonna try.” Coulson nodded.

“And the attackers?” Grant asked.

“Invisible.” Coulson walked off.

“Wait. Invisible? Cool!” Skye laughed, and Grant shot her a look. “But terrible.” She cleared her throat.

***

“Dr. Hall was an asset?” Skye questioned as we walked down the road, squinting in the dark.

“One of a few select scientists S.H.I.E.L.D. has been protecting, people our enemies would love to get their hands on. We keep them hidden, we keep them on the move.” Coulson explained.

“Which is why Fitz and I were so lucky to have him.” Jemma spoke from the other end of the line, next to Fitz.

May, in the middle, stayed silent as usual. Grant and I exchanged a few looks, but he was soon focused on observing the street we were walking along for any potential threats.

“We don’t have him anymore.” Coulson grunted out.

“And what does priority red mean?” Skye asked again.

“It means security should have been…” he trailed off as we saw an SUV flipped over onto the side of the road. “Heavy.”

A fox scurried out from the bushes and to the road. Fitz jumped and Grant’s hand flew to his gun. I looked over to see the fox with blood stains on its white snout. I looked up to Grant again. His grimace matched mine.

Well, that’s just wonderful.

***

“It was pretty damn scary, and I don’t spook easily, boss.” Agent Mack was the only one left alive, and even he was pretty banged up.

May had gone with him to ask questions while Fitz-Simmons did their usual rounds of inspection with Skye tagging along. Grant was surveying lord knows what and I stood off to May’s side, picking up cues from Agent Mack that he didn’t even realize he was giving off.

“Nothing in the air from above?” May asked.

“Nothing over our shoulder.” He shook his head, “But what’s scary is they knew our route. They were waiting for us.”

“Are you saying they were working with somebody inside S.H.I.E.L.D.?” I took a step closer to the van he was sitting in.

“Sorry to say.” He shrugged. “It had to be.”

“Fitz, what am I seeing here?” Jemma shouted, causing the turning of heads.

“Well, I’m not wearing the full-spectrum goggles I designed, so no clue.” He chuckled, walking over to her with his tablet in his hands.

Coulson gave me a nod of his head and I followed them, rolling my eyes with a smile at Fitz’s nerd speak.

“Let me have a look. Come on.” He held his hand out for the goggles.

“Whoa, whoa, wait! Wait, no! Don’t move.” She ordered, holding her hands out to stop him.

Skye stopped immediately, but Fitz, as always, was clumsy and almost took another step forward. I grabbed him by the back of the shirt and pulled him backward.

“Wait a second.” Jemma whispered, kneeling to throw a fistful of dirt and gravel into the air.

It swirled, like a mini tornado.

“What the hell?” Skye took a step back.

“I think the electro-static field scanner activated some… thing.” She smiled.

A rock flew loose from the air pattern, flinging itself at us. I felt a hand on my head and I was forced to go down faster than I could duck myself. Fitz let out a yelp and Grant shoved me half behind him, staring at the thing with squinted eyes.

“Okay, can we deactivate it?” Coulson asked. “Now?”

She hit a few buttons on her tablet, and the swirl only seemed to gain an angry conscious, throwing more things at us. I ducked behind my brother, pulling Skye down with me. Fitz let out a second yelp before barking something about density at Jemma.

“I tried, Fitz!” She shouted, handing him the control.

I pushed out from behind my brother and tugged Fitz away from the swirl as he fumbled with the remote. I felt a thunk against my head and winced.

“Fitz!” May raised her voice.

He hit another two buttons before the remote shorted out and the swirling pieces dropped to the floor. Jemma bent down to pick up a twisted looking piece of metal and glass with a pair of tweezers, dropping it in Coulson’s outstretched hand.

“That did all this.”

“What is that?” Skye asked.

Coulson stared at it, rolling it in his hand. “Something big.”

***

We stood in a ring around the lab table, with the exception of Grant, who had told me what he was off to do, but I hadn’t listened. Fitz had the object in some sort of a microscope, with lit up goggles on his head.

“Either someone cracked our comm system, or Dr. Hall’s movements leaked from inside S.H.I.E.L.D..” Coulson was quiet.

“You really think we have a mole?” May asked him.

Jemma and I stood at the side of the table, watching as Fitz worked.

“I think you should go through the communication logs, rule it out.” He said with his hands crossed neatly. “We’ll work the tractor tread that we found on the scene.”

“I can do that.” Skye popped up. “Instead of pull-ups. I can upload an image of the tread pattern, check to see if there’s any sort of-”

“Already done.” Grant popped back in.

Right, he had gone to do that.

“Matched it to a 2010 model. Found a list of purchases within a 500-mile radius, narrowed it down to those with priors, financial troubles, or propensity for risk-taking.” He set it up to show on the computer.

“Three suspects.” He pointed as the pictures appeared.

“Who may have sold their construction equipment to the kidnappers.” Coulson’s arms were now crossed. “We’ll ask.”

Grant nodded and pulled the images off the screen. He turned to look at me over his shoulder, and I followed him out of the lab.

“You feeling any better? How’s your leg?” He looked down, slowing his step.

“It’s fine. You don’t have to slow down for me.” I scoffed, secretly grateful that he hadn’t forced me to trot up the stairs.

“I know. There’s a lot of things I don’t have to do.” He sat down at the bar. “So. Give me a runthrough. Why would someone kidnap a physicist?”

I hoisted myself to sit on the counter and grinned. “Maybe their kid needed tutoring?”

Grant rolled his eyes and pushed at my knee with his foot, essentially kicking me. “I don’t remember you being this joke-y before.”

I laughed. “I use humor to mask my emotions now. Ya know, like an adult.”

“Okay, okay. But for real. Why would someone kidnap a S.H.I.E.L.D. protected physicist? What good does a physicist even do?”

I rolled my eyes at him. “Physics is actually pretty cool, you people just don’t think it is. Physics covers a lot. My best guess within reason? Some evil rich person has a half-hacked plan to take over the world but needs a professional to help him seal the deal.” I shrugged.

Grant sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I hate the fact that that sounds like a valid, logical, reason.”

I laughed. “Well, we do work for S.H.I.E.L.D..”

“Yeah, okay. But I’ll bet you fifty dollars it’s some weird organization and not someone rich.” Grant snorted.

“You sure you wanna bet on that?” I grinned again.

***

“I just wanna know who paid you.” Coulson asked calmly as Grant and I crept around Lola, crouched.

The man paused, then yanked a gun out. “Paid me enough not to answer questions like that.” He aimed at Coulson.

Grant gave me a glance over my shoulder before moving, pulling the gun from the man’s hand and him along with it. I ran to grab the horse by the reigns, trying to calm it. The man landed on his back with a grunt, hands up as Grant pointed the gun at his head.

“Feels like the old west.” He turned to me with a faint smile as Coulson stepped closer to speak to the man again.

“They gave me money for my equipment, that’s all. I never saw a face. I never heard a name.” He had his hands up, eyes darting between Coulson and Grant.

“And how did you receive this money? They write you a check?”

The man sighed and pointed to the side pouch on the horse’s saddle. Grant looked at me and jerked his head in that direction. I patted the horse’s neck before moving over to open the bag, which was filled with gold bars.

“Paid you in gold?” Coulson picked a bar up.

I looked at Grant. “Now it really feels like the old west.”

***

“It looks like this because it’s a doré bar. It means it was made in a mine rather than a refinery. It’s only about 92% pure, the cowboy got cheated a bit.” Jemma explained.

“Can you determine a mine based off the impurities?” Coulson asked.

“Oh, yeah, we’ve done that already.” Fitz went to the computer. “It’s from the dacey mine in Tanzania, which is owned by-”

“Quinn Worldwide.” I came to his side as I cut him off, glancing at Coulson.

“I’m sure you’ve studied the CEO in your chemical engineering classes or saw him on the cover of Forbes. Ian Quinn.” Coulson sighed and walked out of the lab, up to the steps.

“He’s a sociopath.” I scoffed.

“I mean…” Jemma tried to put her positive twist on it, but to no avail.

“Who is?” Grant came into the lab, looking at me with furrowed eyebrows.

“Ian Quinn.” I said as Fitz pulled up a picture and turned his monitor so Grant could see. “Spoiled, bratty, millionaire evil genius.” I quirked an eyebrow.

Grant sighed deeply and pulled out his wallet, handing me two twenties and a ten. I pocketed them with a smile, giving him a half-hug as a thanks before going upstairs with Coulson.

***

“Darlin’, come downstairs. I’ve got a feeling you might wanna hear this.” Fitz came over the comms in our room and I rolled over in the bed, dropping my book onto my nightstand as I hit the button to answer.

“Are you sure I’m gonna wanna hear about it? I’m reading.”

“Well…” He paused and I could hear him clear his throat. “It’s a scientific breakthrough, darlin’.”

He knew he had me then. Any breakthrough was amazing, whether it was scientific or psychological or whatever else. I pulled one a pair of fuzzy socks and all but bolted down the stairs to the lab.

“Jeez, what’s the rush?” Skye asked, coming down the steps after me.

“Scientific breakthrough, come on.” I grabbed her hand and tugged.

“What is it, you guys?” I popped up to sit on the counter in front of the holotable, resting my chin on Fitz’s shoulder.

“Gravitonium.” He put his hands on his hips.

“What?” Skye asked, unimpressed.

“Holy shit.” I mumbled, wrapping my arms around one of his and leaning forward.

“It’s an extremely rare high-atomic numbered element.” He explained.

“It powers the device.” Jemma continued. “It’s so extremely rare that most people didn’t believe it existed, much less the theory that an isolated positive charge-”

“Yeah, would turn the flow from isotropic-” Fitz continued.

“Guys.” Skye interrupted them. “High school dropout here.”

Fitz looked at me, his hand frozen and his face confused. He didn’t know how to put many things into simple terms. I patted his back and tried to give him a guideline.

“How does the device work again?”

“Well, gravitonium distorts gravity fields within itself, causing an undulating, amorphous shape.” Jemma tried to explain, as Fitz was still stuck.

“Which causes these, um…” He pointed, trying to find an easy word. “Wiggly bits here! But when an electric current is applied,” he motioned with his fingers and I felt a goofy smile grow on my face. “The gravitonium solidifies. And those gravity fields erupt,” he continued to mime it and I held back my laughs. “Randomly changing the rules of gravity around it.”

Skye looked at me and I felt myself turn pink, trying again not to burst out laughing. Fitz gave my leg a squeeze before running over to the other side of the lab, now completely invested in his explanation.

“Well, so now you can imagine what would happen to a big rig at 100 kilometers per hour.” He rushed to sit at his computer, and then froze up a bit. “Or, well, you could just remember, ‘cause we saw it already, didn’t we?”

I walked over as he picked at his lips and then bit his nails as Jemma began to speak. I gently pulled his hand away from his mouth, linking his fingers through mine. He smiled at me softly and pulled our hands back to his mouth to kiss my knuckles.

“Come here.” He tugged me up to sit on his thighs with my side to his chest as he brought his arms around my middle and started to type.

I looked over to Skye, who winked at me.

“Guess which genius published every theory about gravitonium and possible applications years ago?” Jemma asked.

“Dr. Franklin Hall.” Skye answered.

“Correct.” Fitz-Simmons nodded.

“And Dr. Hall attended the University of Cambridge at the same time as Ian Quinn.” I looked at the files Fitz had pulled up on the computer.

“Violet, I think you might be off on this. Quinn’s a notoriously good guy.” Skye shook her head. “His charity endowment’s something like eight billion dollars.”

“Yeah, with money made from leeching the Earth of its resources. Looks like he’s dug up another.” Jemma scoffed.

“He’s textbook, Skye. Tries to give himself a good public image when in reality, dude’s only watching his own back.” I called without turning back to her.

“That’s my girl.” Fitz mumbled under his breath, still focused on the screen as one hand pulled mine up and he kissed it again.

***

“The man’s a prisoner, and it’s up to us to get him out!” Coulson was growing more frustrated by the minute.

“We’ve checked the specs. There’s no way into Quinn’s compound without a large S.H.I.E.L.D. strike force, or a man inside. He’s got neodymium laser fencing surrounding the property.” Grant scoffed.

“They’ll never allow a strike force into Malta.” I shook my head. “Plus, this weekend, Quinn Worldwide’s got its annual shareholders gathering. We’d risk global outrage. But…” I trailed off, looking to Grant.

Not if we go it by ourselves.

He sighed, but nobody else seemed to understand the nonverbality. Coulson picked up the slack for them.

“If we go in alone, S.H.I.E.L.D. can disavow us, claim ignorance.”

“Without a man inside, it’s impossible, unless you’re immune to pulse laser emissions.” May leaned against the table.

Fitz sighed from next to me and Jemma held her hands against her neck, her nervous tic. Fitz stood straight, and I already knew what was coming, but the amusement it would provide outweighed my desire to stop him in his tracks.

“If we had a monkey, we could get in.”

“Ah, Fitz!” Jemma seemed annoyed.

“If we had a small monkey, he could slip through the sensors and disable the fence’s power source with his adorable little hands.” Fitz put his hands up.

I bit back a smile as Grant looked at me with a face. I grabbed Fitz’s arm and pulled him tight against my side, smiling up at him.

“Now’s not the time, angel face.” I whispered.

“I could go in.” Skye had walked in at some point, and was now leaning nonchalantly against the wall, phone in hand.

“Drop me in the hills outside of Valletta. I’ll spend a few weeks establishing a cover, gathering intel-”

“We don’t have the time, Grant.” I cut him off, shaking my head.

“And to restate, any agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. caught on Maltese soil can be shot to death with bullets- legally.” Jemma gestured.

“Not me.” Skye spoke again. “I could go in.” She now took a step forward.

“Skye, this is serious.” Grant brushed her off.

“No.” I stopped him. “She’s right. She’s not an agent.” I looked to Coulson, who seemed to agree.

“This isn’t something the Rising Tide can hack, Skye.” Grant said with a layer of disgust in his tone.

“Did you hear the deadly lasers part?” Fitz looked from her to me, hands on his head. “Without a brave monkey-” I clapped a hand over his mouth and looked to Skye, a signal for her to explain.

“You said you could go in with a man inside.” She shrugged.

“And you wanna be that man?” May’s eyebrows were raised.

“Fitz-Simmons loved the guy, and he needs help. They could be torturing him. Or worse, making him do strength-training.” She glared at Grant.

“She’s a hacker, she can easily apply that to playing a role.” I rolled my eyes at him, sensing his upcoming protests.

“But she doesn’t have the background or clearance or experience with any of this.” He turned away from me and walked toward her, growing increasingly agitated.

“I know.” She put her phone up. “But I’ve got an invitation. Well, technically, it’s an evite.” She looked to me with a smile.

I didn’t bother to hold back my grin. She was something, that was for sure. I trusted she could do it, and if anything went wrong, Grant and I would figure out a way to pull her out if necessary. Grant looked at me with a sigh.

This is a bad idea.

I shrugged.

It’s the only one we have.

And although I wouldn’t admit it, I much preferred this to him going undercover.

***

“Grant!” I caught him coming out of Coulson’s office, fuming.

He turned to me. “It’s a bad idea. Actually, no” he began to gesture wildly, “it’s not just a bad idea, it’s the worst idea! She’s gonna get herself killed! She doesn’t know what she’s doing! And then what? We’re back at square one with one of our people down?”

“Hey.” I grabbed him by the wrist and pulled his arm down. “First of all, breathe. It’s gonna be fine. And secondly, we have a few days. You’re her SO.”

“Again. First on paper, but you’re on there too.”

I ignored him. “Keep training her. Get her ready physically, I’ll worry about getting her mind in the right state. We’ve tag-teamed before, let’s just do it again.” I looked up, eyebrows raised in the way Jemma always said was my ‘mom face’.

“Yeah, we’ve tag-teamed against a group of rebels shooting at us. Are you sure we can tag-team her?” He crossed his arms across his chest.

I threw my head back with an exaggerated groan and rolled my eyes. “Grant. We’ve tag-teamed Christian before. I think we can handle a hacker.”

I knew mentioning our older brother would be a risk, and I watched as his face changed and he became a few shades lighter. But it worked, because he was soon nodding and meeting my eyes.

“Let’s do it. I’ll head downstairs to do muscle memories. Come with, sit and watch. Let your little psych brain work some stuff out.” He held his hand out for mine and I stared for a second.

I couldn’t remember the last time Grant had held my hand. I knew that we always did when we were younger, because our family spent all our time out of the house and on trips, and Grant was the only one who had seemed to care that I didn’t get split up.

“Hey.” He whispered, leaning down to meet my eyes. “You’re okay.” He nodded, flexing his fingers.

I snapped out of it with a nod, slipping my hand into his and letting him lead the way down to the garage.

***

“Now, again, slowly, what’s first?” Grant held the unloaded gun level with Skye’s chest as they went over the maneuver once more.

She gripped his wrist and pushed it up, twirling under his arm and pressing herself into his chest, the gun still in his hand but under her control.

“And then?” Grant followed up.

She paused and I shifted on the metal steps, trying to find some sense of comfort. This had been going on for an hour, and I was surprised that Grant hadn’t snapped by now. My neck ached, my hips were burning, and my leg was throbbing. This was the last day we had to train her. Mentally, she was ready. But that was worth nothing if she couldn’t evade getting shot.

“Then things are moving too quickly. I’m a proper Southern girl-”

I watched Grant throw his head back with an eye roll that looked like it hurt as she pulled on an accent.

“You’ll make me untidy.”

“Twist the thumb, palm the barrel.” He moved his hands over hers to repeat the motions, a bit harshly.

“Ow.” She winced, taking her hand back and shaking it.

“You’re gonna die and leave us hanging out to dry, you know that?” He tucked the gun into the waistband of his jeans. “You’re going in with no self-defense skills-”

“I have a few tricks up my sleeve.” She cut him off, crossing her arms.

“That isn’t enough. You need muscle memory, fundamentals, the tools to turn yourself-”

“Into a whole bag of tools?” She cut him off.

“Okay Skye, how did you learn computer science if you didn’t fully commit to it?” I asked, trying to find a better approach on teaching her.

“C.S. comes naturally to me. I’m sorry I’m not naturally whatever he is.” She pointed at Grant with a grunt.

He looked at me, neck snapping like it was broken.

What the fucking hell?

I returned the look, trying to ease his tension.

It’s okay. Calm down, and explain it. Don’t lose your head.

The air tensed, and I watched Grant’s fist curl. One mention of our childhood was enough to last a few months. Twice in one week was a major overload.

“You think this came naturally?” He stood straighter, shoulders squared as he took a predatory step toward her. “I had a brother who beat the crap out of me- and Violet. For nothing, for eating a piece of his birthday cake. I had to learn to protect us. The way I am trying to protect you. That was my moment. You asked.” He was towering over her now, and I could feel what he was feeling.

Anger, contempt, sadness, fear, every other negative emotion that you could possibly name. I watched as Skye slouched a little, looking from him to me and then at the floor.

“Sorry.” She looked up again. “Didn’t mean to push. But… I did manage to take this.” She pulled the gun up with a smile.

Grant took it back, his emotions gone and the heartless soldier back at play. “Getting the gun is one thing. Pulling the trigger- that is another.” He put the gun back to her chest. “Now, again, slowly, what’s first?”

***

“Skye will walk in the front door.” Coulson paced, trying to keep awake.

It was six in the morning, and none of us had gotten nearly enough sleep. I was leaning back against Fitz, who had his arm around me as he breathed deeply. May and Jemma seemed wide-awake, and Grant was taking a mental nap in the corner, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed.

“The only external access point to Quinn’s underground facility is from a beach cove. A two-man extraction team could slip in there, but it’s not easy. Fitz-Simmons.” He handed it over to them and Fitz begrudgingly kissed my cheek before leaving my side and joining Jemma at the screen.

“The perimeter is surrounded by a twenty foot high neodymium laser grid. Touch it, and you’re toast.” He looked at me as he spoke, as if he were also struggling to stay awake.

“Dead toast. The only way to disable the grid is to crack the system and trigger a reboot. This would give the team three seconds to cross. Of course, Quinn’s too smart to allow any wireless access on his property.” Coulson walked through it.

“That’s where I come in.” Skye nodded.

“Yes.” Jemma opened the black case on the table.

I couldn’t see with everyone standing around it, but Fitz grabbed my hand and pulled me in front of him, squeezing my shoulders after I padded over.

“Working compact- holds up under X-ray.”

“Desert rose. To match your complexion.” Fitz pointed at the small mirror. “But oh, what’s this?” He picked it up, slinging his arms over my shoulders so I wouldn’t have to switch spots again. “A readout, okay? Turns green if you’re in close enough proximity to a computer to gain wireless access.”

“When it does, you just drop this nearby and walk out. We’ll do the rest. Easy as pie.” Jemma smiled as Fitz closed the mirror.

“Or it will be. If you stick to the plan.” Grant spoke for the first time since we had gathered in the conference room to review the plan.

“Got it. Plan, green, drop, walk… pie.” Skye smiled.

Fitz handed her the mirror and she took it with a small thank you, flipping it around in her hands as Jemma explained something to her. Fitz turned me around and pulled me to lean against him, arms over my shoulders as I let my head fall into its spot against his neck.

“Alright team. Suit up.”

***

“Wife’s name is Nadrah.” May filled in the gap for Skye, swiping around on the holotable.

“Sir, are you sure you don’t want me to go in? Grant and I work really well together, and that way you don’t have to go out into the field.” I tried to reason with Coulson, who was gathering his gear.

“I’m sure, Violet. You stay here, keep Fitz-Simmons calm. You know they panic in intense situations. And don’t worry. I’ll keep your brother safe.” He patted my shoulder with a smile before brushing past me.

I sighed and looked up to the ceiling. Fitz walked in, handing me a bowl of popcorn and a water bottle. He gave me puppy eyes and I followed him to the holotable, where May was still directing Skye.

“How’s she doing?” Fitz whispered before shoving popcorn into his mouth.

“She’s good.” Both Jemma and May whispered back.

“I could get used to this, people. It’s like Siri if it worked.” Skye spoke. “Skipper to Bravo. I’ve got eyes on Top Dog. The Eagle is landing on it.”

We all looked at each other, and May let a small smile twitch past her lips despite her eye roll. I giggled and hopped up to sit on the table.

“What are you doing?” Jemma asked.

“Uh, sorry, I-I dunno. I see Quinn, I’m gonna go talk to him.”

Jemma smiled hopefully and May remained stoic. Fitz offered me popcorn. I only opened my mouth, letting him throw the pieces in and laughing when he missed horribly.

We heard Skye laugh over her comm. “Yeah, right? Ian Quinn. I’m your last-minute party crasher. Skye.”

“Oh. Wow.” We could hear Quinn too, albeit faintly. “Great to meet you. Um, this is Skye, a member of the Rising Tide. They’re a group of hackers. They’ve gotten some pretty big secrets out to the public.”

“I prefer hacktivist. I’m glad you’ve heard of our site.”

“I read it. We think very much alike. More freedom of information, less government infringing on everyone’s rights. I’m a fan.”

I rolled my eyes and grabbed at Fitz’s tie, pulling him to stand between my legs so I could lean against him.

“That explains the invite. This is a tough party to get into.”

“Not as hard to get into as the encrypted back channel you contacted us through to request the invite.” His tone was annoying, and he was trying to flirt with her.

“That’s sort of where I live.” I heard Skye force a laugh.

“You’ve got to show me how you did that- I mean, if you sign on.”

She paused. “Sign what, now?”

“I’ve been known to turn a few black hats into white hats, not just for vulnerability analysis, but for very creative thinking.”

Skye hesitated and I rolled my eyes again, thumping my head against Fitz’s shoulder. He only rubbed my back.

“A-are you offering me a job?”

“Well I didn’t invite you here for your pretty face. I didn’t know you had a pretty face.”

I looked over my shoulder at May, who only shook her head and mirrored my eye roll. Fitz caught my look and tutted at me, pulling me back against him and kissing the top of my head.

“Yes, I wanna hire you, before someone else snatches you up.”

“That seemed to go well.” May noted.

“Yeah. It did.” She breathed out, and her tone seemed different, but I was tired beyond belief.

Grant and I had spent the entire night awake, sparring to try and blow off steam. The mention of our older brother twice in three nights had shaken us both to our cores, and then we were awake and angry. We had gone until three in the morning, at which point I realized the time and sent him to bed because he had to be alert to be the extraction tomorrow. I had spent another two hours on the punching bag. At that point, Fitz came downstairs with pajamas and sleepy eyes, looking for me. We hopped in the shower together because he was scared I’d pass out and drown if I were by myself, and I fell asleep afterward, with only half an hour left until we had to be up to start our day all over again.

The comm stuck in my ear crackled to life, and I was relieved to hear Grant on the other end.

“Hey Vi. We’re here. Keep you updated.”

“Sounds good, bubs.” I mumbled back.

I could hear Coulson over the comms, saying something about Grant’s personality setting Dr. Hall on edge. I scoffed a laugh and turned my head into Fitz’s shoulder.

“It’s locked, but there’s no lock.” I heard Skye.

Fitz grabbed another handful of popcorn. “Eh, check for a keypad.”

“Nothing. What, you can hack a keypad?”

“No, not over the phone.” He mumbled, bringing the bowl of popcorn over my shoulder and placing it in my lap.

“Is there a reception desk?” May asked.

“Okay, yeah. Well now what do I do?”

“What are you trying to do?” Quinn’s voice came over her comm and we froze.

“Just… looking for a pen,” she laughed nervously. “Here we go. Gotta write down all those good ideas, you know what I mean? Of course you know what I mean, you probably have like ten pens for all your ideas…”

“What are you really doing?” His tone escalated.

Skye took a long pause. We stared at each other and I pressed the comm in my ear.

“Grant? She might’ve just been made.”

“Noted.” He grunted back and then was gone as quickly as he had come.

“Alright. I’m busted. I was trying to get a glimpse behind your office doors, see how things really operate.”

“I invite you here as a guest, you treat me like another corrupt institution, looking for trade secrets to leak online. Security-”

“No, no, no, wait. It’s just… with all these la-di-da people, you have to be so guarded, so … careful. What you say. What secrets you reveal. And … I was hoping that you and I… could be honest with one another. If you know what I mean.”

There was another long pause, and then there was a creaking of doors and Skye was back to normal. Fitz had climbed onto the table to sit behind me, forcing me to swing my legs to the other edge of the table. The popcorn was still in my lap, and I was grateful, because that way the warmth of his arms never left my sides.

“My office had less space, more wheels. Wow. A view of the ocean and the pool.”

“Not a bad place to do business.” Quinn flirted back.

“Got the dispatch leaking Hall’s location. User’s an alias.”

“Oh, can you trace the DHCP server-”

May cut Fitz off. “Trace is running, but it’ll take time. How’s our girl?” She asked, referring to Skye.

“I thought she was done for, but she just sweet-talked her way into Quinn’s office.” Jemma exclaimed.

“Grant. She’s good. She’s in.”

“You sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure, idiot.” I scoffed.

The line clicked off without a response.

“How’d she manage that?” May asked.

I sputtered, shaking my head. Fitz squirmed behind me, using his hands as he spoke.

“She probably just used her, um, uhh…” He stumbled as Jemma and May shot him glares.

I turned to see his hands cupping his chest.

“Uh, her uh… boobs.” He spat out.

I rolled my eyes and got off the table, leaving the bowl in his lap and standing at his side.

“Ugh! That’s the only explana-” Jemma was cut off by static.

I looked down to see Skye’s comm gone. “Shit, the signal’s dead.”

“Fitz, what did you do?” Jemma hit his arm.

“What- I didn’t do anything! She must’ve- oh lord.” He sighed.

May looked at me. “She’s double crossing us.”

I shook my head. “No, no, no, no, no. Stop. We’re not gonna jump to conclusions here, alright? She’s probably just got an idea.” I defended her.

“She’s supposed to stick to the plan!” I forgot my comm was on.

“She’s just offline. We lost audio and vitals.”

“Abort is not an option. But if she’s compromising-”

“She’s still your only way in to get to Dr. Hall. And you’re the only way out. Sit tight.” I rolled my eyes and clicked the comm off.

“Violet. Just think about it. Why else would she turn off her comm?” Fitz asked me, eyes kind.

“She’s got a plan. Just trust me. She’s gotta have a plan.” I clicked my comm back on. “Grant, just keep moving. This doesn’t change anything. I’ll keep you updated.”

He scoffed on the other end. “Since when are you so soft?”

“Can you put aside the bitch-fit for when you come back? Right now you have to focus on getting in and out, okay?” I rolled my eyes.

“Fine. Keep me updated.”

“I told you I would.” I rolled my eyes again, clicking my line off.

I looked around to see Fitz-Simmons and May blinking at me, eyes wide.

“What?”

“I just, uh…” Fitz trailed off, scratching the back of his neck.

“We haven’t ever really seen you like that is all, love.” Jemma offered a sweet smile.

“Your brother’s back and you’re acting different. It’s sort of amusing.” May shrugged, the most truthful.

“Hey, Vi?” Grant’s voice was calm and quiet.

“What’s wrong?” I perked up.

“We’re gonna have to take on this next patrol. Skye better hurry it the hell up or we’re dead. Just thought you should know.” He whispered.

I sighed. “Be careful.”

“Always.” It was followed by a grunt, and then the sounds of an unfair fight.

I sighed and watched as May eyed the holotable nervously. Skye was still offline. A few grunts later, Grant sighed.

“Guys, clocks ticking. Where’s Skye?” Coulson came on.

The holotable clicked, and her compact connected.

“We’re in!” May shouted.

“She’s done it!” Jemma squealed.

“Leo, you’re up.” I took the bowl from him.

“Oh, Mother of all things. Move, move! Move!” He all but shoved May aside, tie flying as he ran.

His fingers danced over the holotable, and his eyes darted around as he licked his lips. He was scared to screw it up.

“Vi, tell Fitz to hurry. They’re onto us.” Grant growled.

“Fitz is going as fast as he can!” I shouted back.

“Fitz!” Coulson called.

“Saying his name repeatedly does not increase productivity!” Jemma yelled, getting them to back off.

“Okay, go!” Fitz jumped.

“Or maybe it does.” Jemma tilted her head.

“Grant! Move, now!” I watched the three second timer on the screen.

“System rebooting in two, one, now!” Fitz counted it off.

There was a grunt and then silence.

“Grant?” The rise and fall of my chest became frantic.

I really hoped my brother hadn’t gotten cut in half by a twenty foot laser fence.

“We’re in.”

I sighed, letting out a breath. May had gone back to her computer, following the trace of the dispatch that had leaked Hall’s location. Fitz pulled me into a hug. I hooked my arms around his middle and buried my face into his shoulder, ignoring the itching of his cardigan against my nose.

“Oh no.” May was louder than usual. “Coulson. The leak came from-”

“Dr. Hall. Yeah, I’m getting that.”

There was a yelp and a grunt, and then Coulson’s comm cut out.

“Grant?”

“I’m here.”

“Coulson’s out. We don’t know what happened. Keep moving, get Skye. We’ll keep you updated. Be careful.”

“Always.”

***

“Guys, we need to talk.” Coulson’s voice came over the comms.

“Lost you for a minute.” May sighed. “We’re aware of the problem, sir. Hall wanted Quinn to kidnap him?” She asked as we walked into the lab, where Fitz-Simmons were scrambling about.

“Yeah, why would he do that?” Fitz was disgruntled.

“What is wrong with him?” Jemma was distraught.

“Quinn built a gravity generator. Like the one we found but bigger. Hall knew Quinn would need him to control its raw power, but Hall just wanted to unleash it.”

“The one we found was only two point five centimeters in diameter. It stopped a semi.” Jemma shrugged.

“How big are we talking?” I asked.

“Twelve feet. It’ll definitely take down the entire compound.”

My heart clenched in my chest once more. Skye and Coulson were on there. And more importantly to me, Grant was on there. I had just gotten him back after eleven years. I couldn’t lose him to an element on the periodic table.

“It’ll sink the place!” Jemma was agitated.

“No, it’ll do more than that.” Fitz shook his head, working at something, tucking a screwdriver behind his ear.

“Work a solution. I’ll disconnect the power before things get … crazy.”

He was gone again.

“Vi.”

“What is it?” I asked, relief at hearing my brother’s voice.

“I don’t know where I’m going. I need you to pull up a map and talk me through this. Please.”

I only nodded. “Just a second.” I hit a few buttons on the holotable, bringing up the blueprint of Quinn’s mansion.

I took my comm out and tossed it to Fitz, who set the connection to the same as Coulson’s. Now we could all hear him, and he could hear all of us.

“Alright. This place is massive. Where am I heading?”

“Southwest corner.” May guided him. “Ward. Tell me you’ve got things covered on the ground. I can’t do a damn thing from out here.”

I caught a small gasp and perked up. It had come from Grant. I pulled up his vitals on the tablet next to me and saw that his heart rate went up. Something had happened that made him nervous.

“I’m working on it.” He replied.

We sat in silence, watching as the dot on the map that was Grant moved faster. Coulson’s comm clicked back on, and we could hear a loud whirring and a rumbling.

“... future generations ruined in his wake!” Hall’s voice was agitated.

“Like agents Fitz and Simmons, your former students? I’ve got them in my ear right now, telling me you’re not a bad guy. We could’ve worked with you on this.”

There was a crashing noise, and Fitz tensed in his seat.

“S.H.I.E.L.D.? S.H.I.E.L.D. is just as guilty of the same thing! Experimentation without a thought of consequence! Your search for an unlimited power source brought an alien invasion!”

“Fair point.” Coulson only sighed.

There was another crashing noise, and Coulson’s comm finally gave out. May cursed loudly, and Jemma put her hands back to her neck.

“She’s not here!” Grant screamed.

We paused.

“Grant, the pool.”

“What?”

“There’s a pool by the window. She must’ve jumped. She’s probably out in the front!”

“Are you sure?”

“Grant! We tag-teamed! Stop doubting me and listen!” I groaned, balling my hands in frustration.

He muttered a reply that I ignored. His dot was beelining down the steps and out into the main lot. He must’ve been sprinting. He reached the spot and took a deep breath. I braced myself, knowing what was coming. There were grunts and shouts, and the cracking of bones. Grant winced, but was quick to regain another breath and keep fighting.

When he finished, I could hear his breathing, along with Skye’s, which was even more frantic.

“You hurt? Follow my orders. I’ll get us out of here.” He was gone again.

Coulson’s line came back on, staticky. “Nothing. Fitz-Simmons? I tried to cut the power. It’s still going.”

Fitz-Simmons blurted out too many words at the same time, and the only thing I understood was ‘catalyst’.

“Something to create a chemical reaction in the core.” Jemma explained.

“It’s not too late to do the right thing! Help me find a catalyst-”

“I am doing the right thing. A completely selfless act. I know that history never celebrates what didn’t happen. They’ll call this a-a tragedy. They won’t understand the good I did here.”

“Vi?” Grant came on. “We’ve almost got Coulson.”

“Can you get him out?”

“Not yet. We need another minute or two.”

“You don’t have that long.” Fitz jumped in, looking at me with concern.

“Killing innocent people?”

“Saving millions. We have to live with the choices we make, but sometimes we have to die with them too.”

“I understand. You made a hard call… and now I have to make mine.” Coulson clicked his comm off, but we still heard the gunshots through Grant’s.

“Alright, we’re in.”

***

Fitz-Simmons hadn’t taken the news well. Coulson had been the one to explain what happened. He shot the glass, and Dr. Hall got sucked into the gravitonium. He was gone. They were devastated, frustrated, and overall upset. Jemma had made a tea and fallen asleep on the couch, where Grant wordlessly draped a blanket over her and shot me a look when I smiled at him.

Fitz was in the bathroom, showering. He had left the door cracked open, and I got the feeling it was to reassure me that he was okay. The water shut off, and he got dressed rather quickly, coming out of the bathroom in boxers and nothing else. His hair had obviously been towel-dried, and he hadn’t bothered to fix it. He gave me a soft smile as he sat next to me.

“Hi angel face.” I whispered, leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek.

“I love you.” He mumbled, wrapping me in his arms and dropping his head against my shoulder.

He was exhausted, and I couldn’t blame him. I ran my fingers through his damp hair and wrapped my arm around his shoulders, tracing shapes onto his bare skin.

“I love you too. Why don’t you try to sleep, Leo?” I asked once he pulled back, wiping at his eyes.

“Stay with me?” He gave me puppy eyes and jutted out his bottom lip. I couldn’t tell whether it was intentional or not.

I smiled and leaned forward, grabbing him by the cheeks and pulling him to me so I could kiss his pouty lips. “Always.”

He slid down under the covers and let me get settled against the headboard. I sat with my legs crossed. He rolled over and dropped his head into my lap, laying on his side and pulling the blankets up to his chin. I threaded my hand in his hair, tugging gently at the curls to untangle them. He sighed, content. My hand started to work by itself, long after his hair was close to dry and he was breathing steadily, asleep.

Skye had gone downstairs to work on her punches, and Grant had gone straight for the shower. I sat in the bed, fingers still mindlessly combing through Fitz’s hair. I hadn’t been the one to lose a mentor, and I hadn’t been the one with a gun up to my face, but I was still tired, and now emotionally drained. There was a knock on my door.

“Come in.” I mumbled, eyes focused on a spot on the wall.

“Hey, ducky. How ya doing?”

I shrugged, watching as he sat on the edge of the bed.

“I’ve had better days.”

He nodded. “I’m gonna go check on Skye. Wanna come?”

I nodded, working Fitz’s head off my lap and onto a pillow. I took Grant’s hand the moment he outstretched it. We walked in silence, and it was peaceful. We didn’t have to verbalize what we wanted to say to each other, we just knew what the other was thinking. It was all I’m sorry’s and I love you to death, please don’t forget that’s and I’m glad you’re alive’s. He went down the stairs first, sitting down and letting me lean onto him.

“Where’d you guys grow up?” Skye asked through a grunt.

“Massachusetts, mostly.” I answered.

“A house?” She asked again.

“You didn’t?” Grant cocked his head.

She stopped the bag, holding it steady as she panted. “One house.” She grabbed a water bottle and walked to our side. “The Brody’s. I was nine. Sent me back to St. Agnes after a month. Said I wasn’t a good fit.”

“Foster parents.” Grant deduced. “Your first?”

She scoffed. “My third. I had heard it before, but… this one was different.”

“‘Cause you wanted them to like you.” I spoke in a hushed tone.

She looked up and nodded. “Bad.”

Grant sighed and she looked back down, sniffling. I looked down to my brother. He gave my knee a squeeze.

“I called her mom once… tried it out.” She shrugged and sighed. “Guess it wasn’t a good fit.”

She shook herself off and returned to the bag. “Hoping for something and losing it? Hurts more than never hoping for anything.”

Grant and I exchanged looks.

She needs reassurance that we won’t leave her. She’s got trust issues.

Grant nodded and we got up wordlessly, each putting weight against the bag so she could have a more solid stance.

“We won’t turn our backs.” He spoke first.

“Doesn’t matter.” She took another punch. “I made my choice. I want this.” Another three punches. “Bad.”

“Well, good. Because you fit in. We like you. You’re a buffer, and a smart one.” I smiled, letting Grant put his full weight against the bag so I could take the pressure off my leg.

She looked at me with a grin. “And I know there’s a truth serum.”

Grant and I only looked at each other once again, each laughing.

“Whatever you say, rookie.”

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