#also sorry if these seem a little scattered i wrote them on the bus and also im not getting paid to write this so i can write how i want <3 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

artificialqueens · 5 years

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Places Adore & Bianca Were Nearly Caught Having Sex, 2/? (Biadore) - Miss Alyssa Secret

If asked, Roy could name plenty of things they’d done together in fairly risky places over the years.

Chapter Two: Jinkx had wandered by in search of her, receiving a shrug from Adore with no idea that her cock was down Bianca’s throat barely out of sight behind a rack of gowns. Another time, DeLa walked away puzzled, but Courtney knew better. Now all she had to do was get the others to believe her.

Chapter One | Read and comment on AO3

A/N: The first moment is referenced in chapter seven of What Happens At DragCon… Thank you to @jillybean2314 for suggesting the setting for the second incident! @doctor-bitchcraftt wrote a five times fic where Adore is found under the skirt of Bianca’s black and white ballgown; here’s the smutty version. - MAS

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Bianca Loves A Good Ballgown

Jinkx frowned as she crossed the dressing room. The zipper had torn out of one side of her dress, and while safety pins worked to keep it together on stage, she wanted to find Bianca and ask if she might be able to fix it before the next city. She’d seen her with various projects balanced across her knees on the bus, so it seemed like a reasonable possibility.

No one had seen Bianca - Jinkx had already checked the bathroom (“Del Rio isn’t human, she doesn’t pee,” Sharon snickered) and Michelle’s dressing room (“Nope, not here, but can you hand me the hairspray?”). She spotted Alaska’s towering monstrosity of a hairdo over one of the clothing racks and decided it was worth making an attempt there.

“ ‘Lasky?”

“Yessssss?“ Alaska was pulling on a last pair of tights, seemingly unconcerned about the hair wobbling two feet above her head.

“Do you know where Bianca is? Can’t find her and nobody else knows.”

“No…did you try Adore?”

Jinkx made a face. “Of course, she’s the first one I looked for but couldn’t find her either.”

“ADOOOOORRRRRRRE?“ Alaska’s drawl cut across the other conversations.

A moment later, there was a thud from the corner where Adore and Bianca’s stuff was set up. Alaska pointed towards it with a deadpan expression.

“Thanks!” Jinkx headed over, petting the fabric of the dress. It was one of her favorites, and she really hoped Bianca had the time to help.

A full rack of long gowns, meticulously organized by color (“I like being prepared," Bianca had told her when she asked why she brought them all out every show), separated the last two vanities from the rest of the room. The rest of the entrance to the area was blocked by two large suitcases, and one of Bianca’s platform pumps was peeking below the gowns, although from that angle it had to mean she wasn’t wearing it. Pushing through seemed rude, so Jinkx paused on that side, idly running her hands over the sequined fabric.

"Adore? You there?”

No response, but Adore sometimes had her headphones in while getting ready, so Jinkx tried again, louder.

“ ‘Dore? It’s Jinkx.”

“…yeah?" Adore sounded distracted and a little…annoyed? A moment later, her hand appeared between the densely hung gowns, pushing the ones on the far end to the side. Through the space created, it looked like she was pushed all the way back in her chair, still in her wig cap and eyeliner half complete.

"Sorry, won’t take long. Do you know where Bianca is?”

There was a thump, and Jinkx tried to lean in closer.

“Is everything okay?”

“Fine! It’s fine. What is it?" The words came out more clipped than usual.

"Need to ask Bianca something." She waved the bundle of fabric. "You know, for sewing.”

Adore’s eyes dropped close in a long blink. When they opened again, she thrust her arm out and wiggled her fingers.

“Just uhhh, just give it to me and I’ll tell her.”

“Okay, thank you!" Jinkx handed her the dress and started to back off. "I’ll talk to her more later.”

Adore smiled a tight smile, and the gowns came back together in a rustle of sequins. Turning to head back to her station, Jinkx made a mental note to tell the other girls that Adore seemed a bit cranky tonight.

Behind the rack of gowns, Adore dropped Jinkx’s dress onto the other chair with a sigh, and laughed quietly.

“That was close.”

Grinning, she looked down her torso past her unbuttoned shorts and made eye contact with Bianca who slid her mouth up and off Adore’s cock with an obscene slurp. Bianca sat back on her heels, dress hiked up over her knees, looking completely put together if not for the fact that Adore’s erection was liberally smeared with dark red lipstick. She alternated between rubbing the back of her head and patting her wig to make sure nothing was out of place.

“Too fucking close. Now do you see why I always put us in a corner?”

Adore reached down to try and guide her head back onto her dick, pulling her hand back when Bianca batted it away.

“I’ve already got a gap I need to fix-” courtesy of Adore bouncing Bianca up into the table when Jinkx said her name, “-so keep your hands off or I’ll have to redo it all.”

“But B…”

“If I have to redo it, I won’t have time to finish here." Bianca licked a stripe up the underside of her cock, popping the head back in her mouth to suck briefly before pulling off again. "And we wouldn’t want that, would we?”

Adore shook her head vigorously.

“Now,” Bianca traced the leaking tip with one black-nailed finger, “finish getting ready, and we’ll see if I can get you to finish down here.”

Adore gulped and reached for her wig.

Bianca went back to work.

********

The crinoline fell into place easily, Bianca fluffing the mountains of glittery tulle to make sure everything was even. She glanced over her shoulder at Adore, cross-legged on a chair and watching her with a familiar predatory look.

“Not now." Her voice sounded significantly less firm that intended.

They’d made it through photos, coming back to do touch ups before the actual performances started, and Bianca still needed to have her bodice re-laced. She was planning to ask DeLa for help, since Darienne claimed fat fingers (and honestly, that was no excuse) and Courtney was too busy with her own Marco Marco look. Adore was out of the question, because she didn’t trust her not to get red lipstick on the pristine white fabric.

The padding in her bra cups was uneven, and she was busy rearranging when Adore appeared in front of her, perching on the abandoned stool.

“What,” Bianca punctuated the word with another wiggle of her torso, “are you doing down there?”

“You’re beautiful like this.”

There was nothing but sincerity in Adore’s voice, and Bianca looked away, a small smile tugging at her painted lips.

”If you’re into clowns.” She tried for levity, but Adore heard the hesitation.

”Why can’t you accept it?” Bianca bit her lip and shook her head. Adore wouldn’t be dissuaded, grabbing one of her hands to squeeze gently.

”Like this dress is amazing,” Adore continued, fingering the crystals scattered over the skirt. “Real princess stuff. I couldn’t believe it fit into your suitcase for Drag Race.”

“Evita.”

”What?”

”You know, ‘Don’t Cry For Me, Argentina’.”

Bianca Del Rio could teach a master class in deflection, and Adore let her, sensing how uncomfortable she was. That was something to explore another time.

“Anyway, I had a question.”

”Mmmm?” Bianca dropped a distracted kiss onto her cheek as she leaned over to pick up a comb, directing a few stray hairs back into her chignon.

”Are you tucked?”

Setting down the comb, Bianca planted her hands on her hips. It was a signature pose, and Adore also knew it kept her hands from fidgeting if she was nervous or resisting the urge to strangle someone. At the moment, it was probably the latter, but she knew just how far to push her luck, and it was a hell of a lot more than anyone else got.

She reached out again, plucking at the glittering confection floating from Bianca’s waist. It had been surprisingly heavy when she helped unpack it, the hoops of the abbreviated crinoline solid steel to support its weight.

Bianca swiftly backed out of reach, although there wasn’t much further she could go before hitting the wall behind her.

"You know you don’t have to tuck if no one can see your junk.”

“Why the sudden fascination?" Bianca leveled a suspicious stare at Adore’s cheerful expression.

She brushed past her to sit in the empty chair, carefully arranging her hoops to avoid creasing. Bianca wasn’t particularly surprised when Adore moved to the floor in front of her, bending her torso until it was level with the floor and reaching for the hem of the skirt as if trying to peek underneath.

"You can’t dry clean something like this! Hands off.”

Not to be dissuaded, Adore sat back, hands folded in her lap and eyes sparkling with mischief. She licked her lips lasciviously and winked. “Dontcha wanna show me?”

“Oh my fucking god, what are you, twelve? Actually, don’t answer that, I already feel a million years old around you.”

“C‘mon Yanx, we’ve got like an hour to kill.”

“I’m not taking this off just for you to get off.”

”Please?”

Bianca felt her resolve weakening and groaned before leaning down to grip the bottom hoop and lifting it until her legs were exposed. From her position on the floor, Adore had a perfect sight line to her crotch, and based on the visible bulge, there definitely wasn’t any tucking going on. For having such a nicely sized package, she really didn’t know how Roy stuffed it all in to look flatter between the legs than most women.

Adore’s hands landed high on Bianca’s thighs, thumbs rubbing circles, before carefully resting her cheek against one leg. Her sigh was full of contentment, and Bianca gave her a fond smile.

“Happy?”

Adore nodded cheerfully. “Hey, why are you still wearing pads if you’re not tucked?”

Wrestling the hoop into a more comfortable position, Bianca blinked in surprise at the serious question.

“You felt how heavy it is. No hips, and it would slide down under its own weight.”

“Can’t you just sew it to the top?”

“One,” Adore was oddly entertained when Bianca spoke in bullet points, “It would pull down a strapless bodice because I don’t have real tits to hold it up. And two, I can change out the top this way.”

“Hmmm. Okay.”

The smile disappeared when Adore reached for the waistband of her tights.

“What- seriously?"

"Please?”

“I really- actually, fine. If it’ll shut you up, go ahead." Adore couldn’t see Bianca’s face when the hoop shifted, but the eye roll was audible. Bianca couldn’t be that opposed to the notion, because Adore had been expecting a few more rounds of resistance.

She worked the tights down past her hips, padding and all, as Bianca grabbed another handful of skirt to lift it out of lipstick range. Roy hadn’t bothered with underwear when he started putting on Bianca, so that was one less layer to deal with. The fabric tented over her head, reminding her of early morning blowjobs under the covers.

"Better make it quick,” Bianca’s voice drifted down. “This door doesn’t lock.”

Adore paused in licking her slowly hardening shaft, humming assent in a way that made the cock under her tongue twitch sharply. She’d been planning a slow tease, but didn’t object to a change in pace. Shrugging, she pushed Bianca’s knees further apart, licked her lips, and dove in.

DeLa was a queen on a mission. Dodging piles of drag, she waded down the narrow hallway and knocked on the door of the second dressing room. She, Darienne, and Courtney were in the larger one, Bianca shrugging and offering to share with Adore when they all realized the situation. It was awfully nice of her, DeLa decided, given that Adore tended to fill any size space with chaos, and surely it would be even worse in a room barely larger than a closet.

She knocked loudly before opening the door enough to peek around.

“Bianca?”

At that moment, Bianca’s cock was nudging the back of Adore’s mouth. She was moaning happily around her mouthful, stroking what she couldn’t fit with one hand while the other was busy down her own panties. Sucking cock in general, and Bianca’s in particular, made her ridiculously horny.

She barely had time to react to the door clicking open before Bianca’s hand shoved her head forward and she found herself enveloped in crinoline and tulle. Fortunately, she’d been sitting close enough that dropping the hoops concealed her completely. Unfortunately, while the voluminous ballgown had enough space underneath, it also meant she couldn’t move without giving it away.

“Bianca?”

“Hmmm?" Bianca’s voice only wavered a little.

"Have you seen Adore?”

Bianca shifted in the chair, leaning forward towards the vanity. Doing so helped conceal Adore further, but resulted in sliding her cock even deeper. Based on the way Bianca’s legs trembled, it probably wasn’t intentional.

Adore concentrated on breathing slowly through her nose and not choking. The air air was growing heavier and more damp with each breath, and she wondered if suffocating on a cock would qualify as a cool or uncool way to die.

“What do you need her for?”

She could feel the leaking pre-come start to drip down the back of her throat, and Adore couldn’t control it as she swallowed convulsively. Draped over her shoulders, Bianca’s thighs squeezed tightly, the ankles crossed behind her neck jerking her closer as she spasmed.

Adore had a moment of panic when the swollen cock head slid down her throat, blocking her airway completely. She pinched the back of Bianca’s thigh urgently, relieved when her legs loosened. Bianca folded one leg up until her foot was flat on the chair, knee resting against the vanity to give her a bit more space.

”I don’t know, I can’t decide if I like this liner. Adore told me she would show me how she does her wings, and I thought she would be in here with you.”

“Ahh. I can tell her, there’s probably still time once she gets back. Did you check if she’s outside smoking?”

“Oh! Good idea, I will.”

As soon as the door closed again and DeLa’s footsteps faded, Bianca pulled her skirt back up and Adore collapsed against the chair, red-cheeked and eyes watering.

”Fuck, are you ok?” Bianca dropped off the chair, skirt forming a puddle around them both. She wiped away the tears clinging to Adore’s lashes and held her shoulders until she finished coughing.

”Sorry, I didn’t know what else to do.”

Adore coughed one more time and smiled lopsidedly. Her wig was messier than ever.

” ‘S okay,” she rasped out, “I’ll live.”

Bianca tipped their foreheads together for a moment before moving to settle on the chair again.

“Wanna finish?” Adore’s question sounded completely serious.

”Are you sure? You don’t have to,” she was quick to add.

”Mmmhmm.”

Adore arranged Bianca’s legs with both feet up against the edge of the table, knees nearly touching her padded chest. Unlike the rest of them, Roy was slim enough that even corsetted, there was so little excess bulk to redistribute that he could still breathe.

Nuzzling her way down the inside of one thigh, she gave the head of her half-hard cock a few good licks before moving lower. Bianca’s moan made her reach down to free her own cock, stroking slowly. From this angle, Adore had full access and she took merciless advantage of the the fact.

Without warning, she licked over Bianca’s hole, teasing with quick flicks of her tongue.

“Fuck…”

Bianca whimpered in pleasure, spreading her legs even wider. Adore increased the pace of her hand as she licked circles around the clenching hole, moaning against it. The filthy, open-mouthed kisses she lavished over the sensitive skin made Bianca’s cock leak, tracing lines of slick down her shaft. She wiggled just the tip of her tongue inside, probing gently, and felt a hand brush past her hair as Bianca could no longer resist jerking off.

Adore sat back on her heels, wiping her spit-shiny lips with the back of her hand. The sight that greeted her ratcheted her arousal up even further. Sprawled in the chair, Bianca looked thoroughly debauched, head thrown back and mouth open as she panted, rapidly stroking herself.

”Like that?” Adore leaned forward to lick from the tip of her cock all the way back down before sealing her lips over Bianca’s hole and sucking.

”Fuck me. Oh fuck, don’t stop.”

Adore hummed against her, tongue moving harder and faster.

”…fuck-“ Bianca tensed and Adore pushed her hand away, shoving her cock back into her mouth. It only took a few bobs of her head and Bianca came with a sharp cry, hips jerking. Adore swallowed with satisfaction, pulling off to lick cum from the shaft.

”That was-“ Bianca didn’t finish the sentence because the door flew open and Courtney burst into the room, mouth open in shock.

”I KNEW IT!” She pointed at Adore, then Bianca, and back again.

Bianca could only imagine the scene they presented, her own post-coital expression and Adore with cum still on her lips, both staring at the intruder.

There was only one thing to do.

Shrugging, Bianca tossed the skirt hem back over Adore’s head in a cloud of tulle and leaned back in the chair with a smug smile.

”So?”

Courtney blew into the green room in a whirlwind of pastel chiffon and blonde hair. Darienne and DeLa looked up from their phones with identical looks of surprise.

“Yes?” Darienne recovered first, setting her phone down.

“Oh my- you…they…” Courtney sounded two steps away from hyperventilating.

”Oh dear.” DeLa abandoned her own phone and led Courtney to the couch with a gentle hand to her elbow. “What’s wrong, sweetie?”

“Adore. Bianca.” She gasped, hand pressed to her chest. “They…”

”They were what?” Darienne leaned forward, trying to decipher the breathless noises Courtney was making.

”Adore. Sucking Bianca off. Saw it.”

There was a moment of silence as DeLa and Darienne made eye contact, broken only by Courtney’s labored breaths.

”Adore and Bianca are…fucking?” DeLa asked slowly.

Courtney nodded vigorously.

The door swung open again, and Bianca and Adore came through. Bianca looked pristine as always, but Adore’s lipstick was smeared all around her mouth.

”There! See?” Courtney pointed dramatically.

”What?” Bianca didn’t sound guilty or worried.

”Ummm.” DeLa cleared her throat. “Courtney says you two were fucking?”

”Adore was sucking Bianca’s dick!”

“Oh,” Bianca nodded, “that. So?”

Darienne examined Adore closely.

”Were you?”

Adore shrugged. “Oh, yeah, I was. Hey DeLa, pass me some water? Thirsty after that.”

Bianca speared a piece of fruit and popped it in her mouth, chewing thoughtfully. “She’s not lying,” she said between bites. “Adore had her tongue up my ass. Caught us right in the act.”

It didn’t seem possible, but Courtney’s eyes grew even bigger. She looked at Darienne and DeLa expectantly, waiting.

Then they both burst into laughter.

”Oh my god,” Darienne’s chest jiggled with her mirth. “Oh, you had me there!”

DeLa was giggling too hard to speak, waving her hand and snapping.

Courtney made a noise like a kettle about to boil over.

“Neither of you believe me?”

”Not particularly.”

”Nope.”

“But they really were!”

Darienne patted Courtney’s arm. “Of course they were, dear.”

#rpdr fanfiction #bianca del rio #adore delano #biadore #courtney act #jinkx monsoon #smut #humor #places adore and bianca were nearly caught having sex #missalyssasecret #submission #bendelacreme #canon compliant #dragcon

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am-i-invisible777 · 5 years

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The Dragon Egg

Here’s just something I wrote for creative writing that I decided to share here. The story is about a middle-schooler named Drake who is convinced he’s found a dragon egg.

“I have a baby dragon,” Drake whispered to the boy next to him. The boy in return scrunched his face up, refusing to look away from the equation he was struggling to complete. Drake scooted in his seat, leaning toward the boy while keeping his eyes on the preoccupied teacher. “It’s technically still in its egg…but it’s bound to hatch any day now.”

“Leave me alone,” the boy mumbled under his breath, tapping the numbers of the old calculator provided by the school.

“You wanna know where I found it? Wanna know how I’ve been able to keep a dragon egg hidden away from my parents and the government?” Drake continued, his half-completed math assignment completely forgotten as he looked at the uninterested classmate.

“No. Shut up.” The boy said, glaring as he wrote down the wrong answer to the equation.

“My dad and I were finally going on this hike he promised me a while back by this trail that’s near Mr. Greenshire’s farms. When I stopped to tie my shoe, I looked over and there’s this big blue egg just chillin by this thorny bush. The second I saw it, I knew it must’ve belonged to a dragon. A real dragon, not those domestic ones.” Drake whispered excitedly, moving his hands along as he recounted the story.

“Dragons don’t exist.” He harshly whispered.

“And so I went over to it and put the egg in my bag before dad could even notice. It was lighter than it looked though. I thought it would be around five pounds max but that thing barely weighed a pound. And so when I got home—"

“Drake. This is an independent assignment. Please focus on your own work and stop talking to Alex.” The teacher called out, causing a few students to look at the two boys.

“Finally,” Alex sighed, writing down another wrong answer. Drake sunk back into his seat, a deep frown forming across his face. With a low sigh, he picked up his chewed pencil with no eraser and began drawing dragons in the margins.

The last bell of the day rung at exactly 2:18 p.m. and Drake never reached the school bus before 2:20 p.m., except for the two times his class was held in the downstairs library. The school bus was old, with torn seats with dull writing on the backside and gum stuck to the sides and underneath. It was always too hot, the only fan being right next to the bus driver. The yellow bus smelled of mothballs and twenty-eight sweaty students. Sometimes it’d smell like the food someone had snuck in, given the fact it wasn’t allowed on the bus, even though the driver never cared. It wasn’t uncommon for some to have to sit three to a seat, four if someone was bringing their friends over, but Drake never had to worry about that. This time, he sat alone near the front of the bus in the seat right underneath the part of the bus that leaked when it rained. He preferred to be alone anyways.

Despite living in the same neighborhood for nearly his entire life, Drake barely knew any of his neighbors or the kids who always rode the bus with him for the past nine years. He tried to make friends, tried to meet and talk to new people, but it never went well. More often than not nowadays he mostly avoided his classmates, wanting to be by himself or with his close friend and next-door neighbor, Kai.

The bus jerked and squeaked as it came to a stop, its doors whining as the driver forced them open. Drake quipped a quick ‘thank you’ in an octave higher than his normal voice, he jumped down the steps and ran to his house.

He had to check on the egg, the dragon egg. His dragon egg. Upon arriving in his driveway, he noticed the absence of two vehicles, meaning that neither parent was home at the moment. Also meaning that his father was either seeing his new girlfriend or buying something for said girlfriend with the money his mother made since she was the only one in the house who actually worked. It also meant he was stuck going to Kai’s house since he left his key inside as he rushed to make it to the bus on time this morning.

He rung the doorbell twice before stepping back, adjusting the straps on his backpack and taking a moment to glare at the large, ugly sign in the front of the yard, the red letters spelling ‘SOLD’ seeming to mock him. Exactly fifteen seconds later, Kai’s older sister answered the door, letting Drake in as they exchanged a small greeting. Maneuvering around the boxes scattered everywhere and running up the carpet steps, he reached Kai’s door, the first one on the right, and knocked on it twice.

“Come in” Kai’s muffled voice called from just beyond the closed door. Drake swung the door open, not bothering to close it again, and gave his friend a smile.

“Hey Kai. How was the dentist?”

“Meh. They always tell me the same stuff. Floss more, drink less soda, yadda yadda. My wisdom teeth are apparently coming in soon. Weird right? Hope I don’t have to get them removed,” they shrugged, laying on the bed with a history book and highlighter beside them.

“I think it’d be funny,” Drake commented, taking his bag off and sitting on the floor. “Like when Hannah got her teeth pulled and she—”

“Was crying by the slushie machine at the gas station while hugging a puppy keychain? Yeah, no thanks,” Kai chuckled, remembering how their sister had behaved after the anesthetics. “So what’d I miss in Howl’s class?”

“Oh, basically nothing. We just started a new unit. Everyone’s confused,” Drake said.

“Good.”

The two were silent for a few moments, Kai preoccupied with highlighting paragraphs and Drake with staring at his phone, waiting for one of his parents to answer his texts.

“…do you think my dragon misses me?”

Kai sighed loudly, rolling their eyes. “Here we go again…”

“No, seriously. At this point it already knows and recognizes my voice. Also! What if it hatches? And I’m not there? I’ve been thinking about taking a few days off of school to tend to it after it comes into our world. I’ll need to train it,” Drake started rambling, fidgeting with his phone and he shifted uncomfortably on the floor.

“Drake, we’ve had this conversation about a million times before,”

“No, you’ve never paid attention when I talk about it!”

“Well, can you blame me?!” Kai sighed and rolled over onto their back, staring at the ceiling. “For the past, like, five weeks, that damn egg has been the only thing you want to talk about. I’m sick of it. I’m sick of telling you something that a ten-year-old already knows!” Kai turned back over to stare at Drake. “Buddy. Listen to me,” they pointed to their mouth. “Dragons. Don’t. Exist.”

“But—”

“No, no buts. What middle schooler still believes in dragons? Fire-breathing, flying, mythical dragons?” Kai asked, frustrated.

Drake remained silent, looking down at the floor as his hands trembled slightly. Although Kai didn’t raise their voice, Drake still felt like he was being yelled at and wanted to crawl away. “…maybe if the dragon could fly…and grew to be the size of a tree…I could come visit you in California…” he mumbled, his voice weak as he tried to keep it from trembling. Everyone hated it when his voice trembled.

Kai breathed deeply, facial features softening as they watched Drake struggle to keep still. “…I’m sorry, but that’s just…impossible.” They whispered. “I’m tired of talking about dragons…I just wanna have a normal conversation with you before I leave…that’s it.”

“…I gotta go home now,” Drake softly said, standing up with his bag. “…I’ll see you tomorrow.” He dragged his feet to the door and exited before Kai could say, ‘yeah, see you tomorrow.’

After leaving, Drake sat at the front steps of his house, still staring at his phone and periodically texting his parents to see when they were going to be home. He reviewed his list of dragon names while he waited, the notes organized by categories such as gender, color, element, and the presence of wings or not. He decided to erase the name ‘Kai’ from the list.

Precisely nineteen minutes later, he received a text from his father saying he’ll be there in five minutes. Thirty-seven minutes after that, his red Subaru rolled up to the driveway. The first thing he did was yell at Drake for forgetting his key. Once his father let him in, he ran upstairs, ignoring the comments made behind him and threw open his bedroom door. Right on top of his bed, wrapped up in twenty-two different blankets, underneath two lamps, was his baby dragon egg. He walked up to it, slowly and tossing his bag to the floor.

“Hey there little guy, didja miss me?” he asked softly, as if he were speaking to a baby. The egg, of course, didn’t answer. He patted the egg gently. “Yeah, I missed you too, buddy. The day sucks until you’re there.” He carefully moved to sit on the bed. “You can hatch now, you know. I read that you guys stay in your eggs for two months, and I’ve had you for a little over six weeks now.” He started fiddling with his thumbs. “Of course, you can come out at any time you want little friend. I’d just really really like it if you did.”

Drake looked over to his desk, a large water tank sitting on top of it. “Is it because you don’t like the tank? I found it at a garage sale for real cheap. I kinda assumed you’d be some kind of water dragon since your egg is blue. Do you need a cage? Or a giant hot rock? My bed? I’ll give it to you!” He thought for a few seconds. “Are you not warm enough? Here, you can have my sweater.” He took off his large green hoodie and wrapped it around the already completely covered egg. “…please hatch soon.”

After talking with the egg for a couple of minutes, the front door opened and closed loudly, meaning that his mother was home. Not even three seconds later did both parents get into an argument about Drake not being able to get inside. He groaned and covered his ears, a futile attempt at blocking them out.

“Why, why, why, why…” Drake grumbled. He stared apologetically at the egg. “I’m sorry about them…again.” He sighed. “Dad says Mom’s just “upset” cause of his new girlfriend and Mom says Dad’s upset cause she’s “winning the legal battle” but I don’t care.” He laid down next to the egg. “Here’s another life tip I forgot to mention lil friend. Never take sides when your parents are fighting…you just end up hurt by both of them, no matter what you do and there aren’t any right answers either.” He hugged one of his pillows to keep his hands preoccupied. “…least you’ll never have to know what that’s like.”

Squeak

“What?!” Drake bolted upright quickly, almost knocking one of the lamps down. A small tap taptap tap could be heard coming from the egg, along with tiny squeaks. “Oh, oh…oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, you’re hatching!” A mix of panic and excitement bubbled up from his gut as he moved the lamps away. Pulling out his phone and going into the open page he found about early dragon care, he reread the passage he had looked over dozens of times. “Okay, okay, okay, uhh…”

Drake bounced up, sprinting to the corner of his room where a box had been placed. He lifted it up, retrieving one of the hamburgers from underneath. “Okay, so “The Life of a Dragon” s-says you’re gonna be really hungry when you hatch, so I got your first meal right here,” he said, placing the wrapped burger next to the squeaking egg as he carefully unwrapped the blankets. “It’s okay friend, it’s okay. I’m here. I won’t’ abandon you…I won’t hurt you, I swear, I’m not gonna leave you.” He cooed softly. Large cracks were already forming on one spot of the large blue dragon egg. With every tap tap heard, Drake could see the cracks expand and rise. “You can do it!”

“Drake! Come down here, now!”

Drake froze. In all his excitement, he temporarily forgot the verbal abuse that was taking place in the background.

“Uh, j-just a sec Mom!” he called out, rubbing the egg with his thumbs. “C’mon, buddy, come on…”

“Now!” Her demanding voice called out, louder and angry. Drake was too afraid to move for a second, looking from his door to his egg. With a sad sigh, he gave the egg a quick kiss before running out of his door and down the stairs, just in time to see his father stomp away and slam the door, the house shaking slightly from the force. Ten seconds later, a car engine roared.

Drake looked over to his mother, his fingers trembling and foot tapping against the floor. She sat at the kitchen table, rubbing her temples.

“Drake, would you do mommy a favor and call your father. Tell him he’s not allowed back into this house until he starts paying bills and stops eating all our food.” She wearily said, shaking her head. Drake looked up the stairs.

“…Is…um, is that all, ma’am?” he asked, attempting to keep his voice normal.

“Not yet, where has your father hidden the aspirin this time?” she stood up and looked at him, bags under her red eyes.

“Uh…it’s the…s-second cabinet on the left,” he said, pointing in the correct direction. She nodded her head and turned to the cabinet. Drake took this as his opportunity to run back upstairs.

“Drake, sweetie, before you go upstairs,” she called out as Drake was only four steps away from the top. “Please remember to slow down when you speak and talk clearly, we don’t want to have to send you back to speech therapy. And stop shaking around so much.” He looked down at his twitching hands.

“…Yes Mom!” he tried to say as clearly as possible before leaping up and past the four steps.

Afraid that the egg has already hatched and he’s not there for his new baby dragon, Drake practically fell over himself as he tried to hurry into his room. His phone rang—a call from his father—but he ignored it as he threw his bedroom door open, stumbling inside and looking at his bed. There, right where it was supposed to be, were the remains of the hatched egg. A few inches beside the blue egg shells, sitting down and now staring directly at him, was a goddamn Emu.

#my writing #creative writing #dragon #short story #the dragon egg

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sunflowerstrays · 6 years

Text

for you - kim jungwoo - au

kim jungwoo x reader.

words: 1.4k.

genre: fluff, a lil sad?

---

‘can you come over?’ is all you receive from Jungwoo, yet it's enough for you to walk away from the bus stop after work, and head to Jungwoo’s small apartment he shares with some of his friends. His texts are never that black and white, blunt or lacking of emojis - every single text of his has a hundred laughing faces or balloons to accompany it. So this one sent you into a panic.

The walk to Jungwoo’s house is short, but it's freezing cold out and after an eight hour shift at your waitressing job, in which you'd forgotten your coat, the trip was even more unbearable. It worsens when it starts raining, only light at first but when you are just two minutes away from Jungwoo’s, it begins to pour, soaking you to your freezing core.

The things you do for this boy.

When you ring the number for his apartment, Jungwoo bounces down the stairs instantly opening the door and pulling you inside before embracing you immediately. He doesn't even notice your soaked hair, near see through shirt from the rain, or the fact you've also passed all of your dampness onto him. Instead he just stands there, embracing you, and you know that whatever has happened today, its really hit him hard.

"Jungwoo?" you say, wondering if any of his friends are in their apartment. He finally leans back and realises the state you are in.

"You came in the rain for me?" He asks, but doesn't give you a chance to answer before taking your hand and dragging you into the elevator. It's in the cool space of the elevator that you first start shivering, wrapping your arms around yourself and having Jungwoo then wrap his arms around you as well. He is very warm to the touch, but it's not enough to thaw your frozen body.

Doyoung and Mark are home when Jungwoo shuffles you into the apartment, but they are squabbling in the next room over a video game and therefore don't even notice your arrival. Jungwoo pulls you into his room, but you hesitate at the door.

You aren't entirely sure what Jungwoo and you have going. He's one of your closest friends, and you'd be lying to yourself if you didn't feel more for him, which made the thought of walking into his room scary. You'd spent half your adulthood life in the living room of this apartment, but the bedroom felt a step too far - even if it was for innocent intentions only.

"Y/N?" Jungwoo asks, already halfway across the room. You stare into the clean bedroom, surprised by the state of it considering the rest of the apartment. His small book collection is stacked neatly on a small shelf in the corner, his bedsheets are a light grey, the curtains a deeper grey to match the aesthetic, and everything else seems to have a place. There are a few notepads scattered on his desk, his wardrobe has a new jacket hanging on one of the doors, and there are random photos scattered on the walls in no seeming order.

"Sorry," you say, stepping into the room with a nervous breath. Jungwoo picks up on your nervousness and smiles gently at you, turning his back whilst you carefully tread into his room.

The photos on the wall are what attract you the most, and when you wander over, you recognise most of them. There are so many of you, Jungwoo and all your shared friends including Doyoung and Mark at an amusement park. Taeyong and Taeil had won tickets to the newly opened park in some competition they had entered and insisted on taking everyone they knew. As a result, nineteen of you ended up trailing the park all day, and hundreds of photos were taken. You'd printed off your favourites as well and stored them around your apartment, all of them having a special place in your heart.

“So, what’s wrong?” You ask when you finally drop your bag on the floor of his bedroom, but instead of responding Jungwoo holds out a t-shirt, shorts and a hoodie of his. “What’s this for?”

“You look like a drowned rat, in the best way. I don’t want you to catch a cold,” he sighs, looking miserable for making you walk all the way over here in the rain. You sheepishly take the clothes from him and dash into his bathroom, changing quickly and laughing at how big the clothes are on you. The hoodie and t-shirt come to your thighs anyway, the shorts only hanging a little bit lower than those.

But you don’t mind. It smells of Jungwoo, and that’s beautiful to you.

When you reemerge, Jungwoo is laying on his bed, staring at his ceiling with his hands laid on his flat stomach. It’s very warm in his room, and he’s only in a shirt and shorts anyway. There’s definitely something troubling him.

“Come here,” he says, patting the bed beside you whilst staring at the ceiling still. You stuff your work clothes in your bag before crawling on to the bed beside him, keeping your distance to not upset him.

But Jungwoo has other ideas, and rolls over before resting his head on your stomach, laying on your legs and staring at you from all levels of unattractive angles. Despite his cheeky grin, you can still see his sadness deep in his eyes.

“What’s up then buttercup?” You ask him, putting your hand in his hair and brushing through it in the manner you know he loves. His eyelids grow heavy with pleasure at this, his entire body relaxing against yours.

“It’s just been an awful day. I just needed some company,” he says into your stomach, breathing tickling the skin there. His hands ghost your hip, making your heartrate fast, and you are glad that he can’t tell your pulse from your hip. “And I miss you. We don’t hang out as much anymore.”

“We see each other every weekend at least, Jungwoo. How can you miss me?”

“You’d be surprised,” he mumbles, still smiling at your hand in his hair. “Between both our jobs, being adults, falling in and out of love, doing things like we are told to, I’m terrified I’m going to lose you, Y/N. Hence why I miss you and try to hang out with you so much.”

“Oh Jungwoo,” you sigh now, touching his face gently to make him look up at you. His touch on you toughs, gripping your hip as if you were going to disappear any second. “Do you think that if I was drifting away from you, that I would walk for ten minutes in the rain to come and cuddle with you? Or would text you all day, every day?”

Jungwoo is quiet for a very long time after this, and this makes you awfully anxious. What if you’d said the wrong thing? Would he hate you?

Instead he presses his nose and lips against your stomach again, mumbling something into the muscle that you can’t hear. He’s blushing at the ears though, yet you have no idea what on earth he had said. After he rolls off of you he sits up, pulling you with him.

“Thank you, Y/N, for coming over,” he mumbles, this time loud enough for you to hear. You smile at him, taking his hand in yours and squeezing it lightly.

“Anytime, Jungwoo, it’s what I’m here for,” you muse, and the smile that lights up his face and shuts the ghosts in his eyes out is enough to make you melt at the sight. Sure, people would always joke about how whipped Jungwoo was for you at times, but truth be told, it was definitely the other way around; everything he did made you so soft on the inside, made you fall in love with him a little bit more.

Life would be so much easier if you could tell him that, but you wouldn’t ever dream of putting him under that sort of pressure, so until the day comes when he possibly pours his love and affection for you into a song, you keep quiet about everything you feel.

---

ugh i wrote this at like midnight when i just wanted a cuddle so wrote some jungwoo fluff because it made me feel better. i wasn’t going to post this but i edited it a bit and decided to because no one can have too much jungwoo fluff <3

requests are open <3

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super-imaginefics · 7 years

Note

Could you do an imagine with kara where her and reader like each other but never say anything, but then she gets hurt somehow and when she wakes up they kiss?

Thank you so much for sending in a request! Since this is my first imagine, I decided to go all out, so it’s kinda long. I’m sorry it took two days for me to post this. I had written a large chunk of it and made the rookie mistake of deciding to try something, which caused it all to disappear. I got frustrated and waited a bit before writing it again. I started from the beginning again and a third of the way through, decided to save it as a draft so what happened before wouldn’t happen again, and somehow saved over it, causing all of my work to be erased. So then I started all over AGAIN and finally wrote it all before I had the opportunity to somehow mess up and erase it all again. I guess the third time really is the charm. Lol. It was my first time so I didn’t really know how to use tumblr in this regard very well. But now I know, so we’re good! :) So… here it is! My first imagine! Thank you for reading and I hope you all enjoy it!

You exited the elevator and entered the office floor as you always did: on the constant look out for Kara. You had been working at CatCo for five months now and had taken a special liking to a certain reporter on your very first day when she brought you a cup of coffee from Noonan’s. She had written your name on it, along with a little drawn heart and a sweet welcome message. You remembered the cute gesture as you continued to walk through shuffling employees towards your desk, steeling quick nervous glances down at your shoes, making sure you wouldn’t trip over your own two feet and embarrass yourself. It was a new habit you had picked up not too long ago after an embarrassing incident in front of your crush.

It was your third week at CatCo and you were walking some files over to marketing when the elevator door opened and out walked Kara in a new tight sleeveless dress carrying four densely packed boxes of paperwork. You knew from experience how heavy they were and could barely even carry just one yourself. She was so strong, and the dress showed it. The moment your eyes met hers, you forgot how to walk. You tripped over absolutely nothing, just air, and fell to the ground, dropping all of the files that were in your hands. You tried getting up but you’re mind was in such shock over Kara’s outfit and the embarrassment of what just happened that your miserable attempt failed. You just sat on the ground and stared down at the files scattered on the floor, beginning to pick them up. You were stretching your arm for the few files left that were out of your reach when you saw a soft but strong hand come down, slowly pick them up, and nicely place them in the pile you had created in your lap. You were very grateful but too nervous and embarrassed to look up, so you just continued to stare down at your own hands, aligning the files in the pile into a nice stack. The same hand as before entered your vision, this time outstretched to you. You finally looked up and saw Kara. She glistened in the morning rays seeping through the building and had the softest and nicest smile you had ever seen. You gave her a small smile, hugged the stack of files to your chest with one arm, and gave her your hand. Although your smile came off as shy and appreciative, Kara could see the worry and self-doubt in your eyes. Kara grabbed your hand and gave it a soft squeeze before easily pulling you up. The moment you were on your feet, Kara placed her hands on your shoulders, making sure you were stabilized. You fell out of your trance over Kara’s beautiful face and your embarrassment hit you again. You stared down at your feet, scared to look up at Kara, scared to be rejected or looked down upon. Kara noticed your hesitance and gently but reassuringly squeezed your shoulders. You shyly moved your gaze from the floor to her blue eyes. To your surprise, they weren’t filled with pity, but with genuine support. You were overcome with emotion and suddenly wrapped your one free arm around her waist to hug her. The moment your body made contact with hers, you were stricken with fear, afraid you had overstepped. Before she could even hug you back, you immediately backed away and said a soft “thank you” before quickly walking off towards marketing again, cursing at yourself under your breath once you thought you were far enough for her to not hear you. But Kara heard. She thought it was absolutely adorable. Kara turned around and picked up the four boxes of paperwork again. She walked over to her desk with a slight pink to her cheeks and the biggest smile on her face. That was the moment Kara knew she liked you more than a friend. She really really liked you.

You reached your desk without spotting Kara, you figured she wasn’t here yet. You did tend to get to work a little earlier than she did. You were busy typing away at an email when someone walked up to your desk. You looked up and there she was- perfect blond hair, sparkling blue eyes, and the brightest smile on the planet.

“Hi Kara!” you said excitedly as you gave her the biggest smile you could.

“Good morning, (Y/N)!” she giggled as she adjusted her glasses like she always did. You found it absolutely adorable and couldn’t help but giggle back. You were entranced by her.

Kara handed you your cup of coffee from Noonan’s just the way you liked it. This is something she did quite often. She would bring you coffee in the morning a few times a week. And sometimes, if you seemed really stressed or over consumed by work, she would go out in the afternoon and get you coffee. You weren’t the only person Kara brought morning coffee for in the office, but you did get it more than anyone else. And you were the only person she brought afternoon coffee to.

You looked down at the hot cup of coffee in your hands and noticed your name beautifully written on it as always. Expecting to find a heart drawn next to your name as always since your first day, something she also never did for anyone else but you, you were surprised to find something a little different. Instead of one heart, there were two. Two bubbly hearts beautifully connected by a series of swirls. You beamed up at her and Kara blushed in return.

“Kara, it’s beautiful. I can’t believe you took the time to draw this this morning. I hope you didn’t have to wake up early to do this. Please tell me you didn’t,” you said worriedly as you didn’t want her sacrificing her sleep for you. No matter how much you liked her or how head over heels you were, you didn’t think you were worth it.

“Actually, I didn’t draw it this morning. I went to Noonan’s and grabbed a few cups last night and drew it. It took me a few times but I had to get it perfect. I couldn’t risk only having the one cup they give your coffee in. So I brought it with me this morning and asked them to fill it with your order. I also added a bit of whipped cream on the top to make it fun. I know you had an especially rough day yesterday and you crashed the moment you got home. I didn’t want to keep you from your very much needed sleep so I thought I’d do a little something for you in the morning.”

“Awwww, Karaaaa…..” you got up from your chair, walked around your desk, and gave her the biggest hug. Kara wrapped her arms around you as tight as she could without hurting you.

You both separated from the hug at the same time and took a step back. She smiled at you and you turned your head away to blush.

All of a sudden, something came crashing through the window. A big piece of bright green crystal was flying directly at you. You froze in fear and couldn’t move. Kara saw it. She knew what it was. There wasn’t enough time to safely push you out of the way, but she couldn’t let you get hurt. Kara stepped in front of you and the next thing you knew, she was sent flying back across the building, landing on a desk, causing it to collapse under her.

“Kara!” you screamed. You ran over to her, bending down and pushing the broken desk pieces out of the way so you could get to her.

“Kara? Kara!? Kara, can you hear me?”

She wasn’t responding. She was knocked unconscious. You examined her and saw a few small green shards embedded in her skin and one large piece that had stabbed her in the stomach. You looked back up at her face and saw green lines beginning to form, almost like veins. You had no idea what was happening and had no idea what to do.

“Kara! KARA!” You began to softly slap her face a little bit. “Kara! Come on, Kara! Wake up, Kara! Wake up!”

You looked down at her body, trying to see if there was anything you could do. You knew that taking out the big stake-like piece in her stomach could cause even more harm and damage her body more than it already was. So you tried to get out the little shards that littered her body like glass. You didn’t know what it was, but you figured it was probably hurting her a lot more than just small cuts. You had a feeling that getting the most you could out and away from her would help.

You turned to her face again. “Kara! Wake up! Get up! I know you can do this!” You tried slapping her face a bit again. Nothing.

“Somebody! Anybody! Help her! Please!” you screamed. You saw the green on her face glow brighter and begin to spread across her body. Her wounds were starting to do the same. You looked back up into that beautiful face of hers, usually so happy and full of life, now struggling to live and covered in pain. You began to cry.

“HELP HER! HELP HER! SOMEBODY HELP HER, PLEASE! SHE NEEDS HELP! PLEASE!” you now screamed as loud as you possibly could, nearly screeching.

At that moment, as if it were some miracle, like your prayers had been answered, people in black tactical uniforms came barging into the building.

“FBI!” a young white woman with short auburn brown hair yelled as the agents moved towards Kara.

“Please get out of the way, Miss,” an older taller black man with a short buzz cut asked you.

You looked down at Kara and cupped her face with your hand. You didn’t say anything.

“Get out of the way,” the same lady, now standing next to you and the man, said sternly.

Still on the ground with Kara, you finally turned around to look up at them both, tears streaking down your face. “No.”

“You need to get out of the way. We can’t help her if we can’t get to her,” the man said.

You stood up and took a step back. “Okay. But I won’t leave her.”

The two quickly examined her and began to lift her off of the ground. The man picked Kara up bridal style and the woman helped him adjust her. They suddenly turned to walk away with no explanation.

“Hey! What do you think you’re doing!? Where are you taking her!?” you yelled at them.

“It’s classified,” the woman said as they kept walking. You chased after them and stood in front of them to block them from going any further.

“I don’t care if it’s classified! I’m not leaving her! She’s my best friend and she just saved my life! She’s in this situation because of me!” you began to cry harder but continued on, “I need to help her! I need to know that she is okay! I promise I won’t get in the way. Please…….. I love her.”

And it was in that moment that the auburn brown haired woman’s demeanor softened, “Okay.”

~~~~~~~~~~

You were sitting next to Kara in the medical bay of what seemed like a big government facility. For some reason, everything was very secretive. You brushed Kara’s hair back from her face as you held her hand close to your chest. The doctors were able to take out all of the green crystal shards, including the large one in her stomach, and stabilize her. But they didn’t know when, or if, she’d wake up. The lady and man from before had stepped into the room for a bit before letting you see her. You wondered why two random people would want to spend private time with her, especially when she’s unconscious. You had also noticed that Kara’s body had healed it’s wounds remarkably fast.

You moved your hand from Kara’s hair to her face, cupping it gently, softly rubbing her cheek with your thumb. “Kara, I don’t know if you can hear me, but, please wake up. I need you to wake up. I can’t lose you. You’re the closest thing I have. Please. If anyone can do it, it’s you. Come on, show ‘em. Show those doctors you can do it. Show them just how strong you are. You’re strong enough to get through this, I know you are. You have to be…” you wiped away the tears falling from your eyes, “I believe in you Kara.”

You waited a few minutes but there was no response. You should have known, it was stupid to think she could hear you. You leaned back in your chair, praying she would wake up.

You sighed and looked at Kara’s tired face. “Why did you do that Kara? Why did you step in front of me? You should have let it hit me, then you wouldn’t be hurt. You could’ve died Kara,” you began crying again, “The world needs Kara Danvers. You should have let it hit me Kara. You should have let it hit me. I’m not worth saving, especially at your expense.”

You felt a soft squeeze in your hand and you froze.

“Kara? Oh my gosh, Kara! Kara, wake up! Kara, come on, you can do it! Please come back to me Kara. I can’t live without you. Please wake up. You can do it.”

You kissed her hand, “I believe in you……. I need you Kara.”

Kara’s eyes began to open and you stood up, holding Kara’s face in your hands. “Kara?”

Kara’s blue eyes met yours and she smiled.

“Kara!” you threw yourself over her and gave her a gentle hug. She wrapped the one arm that wasn’t trapped under yours and laughed. You pulled away to look at her again, take her all in, when she began to sit up.

“Hey, Kara. Slow down. You got really hurt and you just woke up. Take it easy, okay?”

“I’m fine, (Y/N)” You gave her an uncertain look. “I promise (Y/N), I’m okay.”

“Are you sure? You were knocked unconscious. Do you feel a lot of pain?”

“No. I barely feel any pain at all.”

You stared at her in confusion. “But how? How are you not in pain? You almost died Kara.” You dozed off for a second, “You almost died….”

All of a sudden, you felt anger building up inside of you.

“Kara. Are you insane? Why did you do that Kara? Why did you step in front of me?”

Kara opened her mouth to say something but you continued.

“No, Kara. No. You could have died. You could have died! Why did you step in front of me? Why did you take the blow for me? Why did you save me? You should have let it hit me, Kara. I’m not–”

You were interrupted by Kara crashing her lips against yours. You froze for a second in shock but soon fell into the kiss, closing your eyes and synching your lips with hers.

Kara held your face in her hands and slowly separated from the kiss, looking deeply into your eyes.

“You ARE worth saving (Y/N), ESPECIALLY at my expense. I will always protect you (Y/N), even if it means I have to die doing so. I will do anything I have to in order to keep you safe, ALWAYS. I promise.”

This time you crashed your lips against hers, kissing her passionately. You put your hands on the back of her head, pulling her closer to you, your fingers intertwining with her blonde locks. Kara wrapped her arms around your waist and pulled your bodies even closer together. You continued kissing for what felt like an eternity. And in this magical long-awaited moment, it felt like it was just the two of you, just you and her in the world.

Kara pulled back from the kiss and rested her forehead against yours, grabbing one side of your face with one hand and passing her other hand through your hair until it reached the back of your upper neck.

“(Y/N)?” Kara asked.

“Hmm?” you replied happily, not moving and eyes still closed, relishing in Kara’s touch.

“Do you remember what you said, at CatCo?” Kara asked hesitantly. You pulled your head back to look at her, a look of confusion on your face.

“I heard you, (Y/N). I heard what you said when I was hurt, when they were carrying me away.”

Your eyes widened a bit in panic and you looked away. Kara gently placed her hands under your chin and turned your head to face hers. She could sense your worry.

“(Y/N),” Your name beautifully rolled off Kara’s tongue in the sweetest and most reassuring tone you had ever heard. You looked at her and she gazed deeply into your (Y/E/C) eyes like they held the world.

“I love you too.”

#Anonymous #supergirl imagine #kara danvers imagine #supergirl #kara danvers #imagine #kara danvers x reader #supergirl imagines #kara danvers imagines #anon #send me asks

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green-eyeddragonfanfiction · 7 years

Text

Time: Chapter 8

Summary: Soulmate!AU/Reincarnation!AU. Female!Reader lives in a world where alien invasions and hordes of death robots occur and past lives and soulmates are very real. Like most people, she gets brief glimpses of her past. although a person’s past lives and their current life may have little to nothing in common, soul mates tend to transfer between lives, the core of a person staying the same throughout the eons. Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader, Steve Rogers x Female!Reader Warnings: Language Word Count: ~3,586 A/N: Although it would make my job easier, I never want to belittle Sharon Carter in how I write her. No matter what anyone says she’s a badass and essential to the Civil War story line. Besides, why would you want your romantic rival to be a pushover? Where’s the drama and passion in that? Same deal with Nat. Also, sorry this took so long. I have no excuse except that I’m lazy trash. I wanted your time in the base to feel like this, but I think it felt more like this. Translations: Tut mir leid, ich warte auf jemanden - Sorry, I’m waiting for someone.

Masterlist // Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

“I haven’t plotted anything, Maren!” you said, distraught. How could she suspect you of plotting the assassination of UN officials from your produce stall in Romania? “Please,” you said, eyes pleading.

She glared at you as she called the hotline number, face resolute. You swore and ran out of the stall, one thought on your mind.

You had to find Bucky.

You snatched a paper from a newsstand as you ran, eyes scanning the page for any information that might help you. According to the report, the Avengers weren’t authorized to take part in the capture of Bucky.

You knew that wouldn’t stop Steve, though. You gasped, suddenly remembering you still had his number on your American phone. You thanked yourself for deciding to carry it around with you, just in case. You yanked it out of your bag and powered it on. The screen blinked to life after a moment. It adjusted to the date and time and the full battery bar flashed at you and you were once again thankful you’d thought enough ahead to keep it charged.

All at once, your phone was barraged with texts from a number you vaguely recognized. One flashed across the screen and you saw the words “It’s Steve.” You quickly dialed the number attached to the text, looking around in panic. Everyone around you went about their day normally, not noticing you were inches away from a breakdown. The phone rang and rang until eventually you got Steve’s voicemail. At least you assumed it was. You recognized the pompous voice of Tony Stark. He had apparently recorded Steve’s voicemail for him. You didn’t pause to listen to the sarcastic remarks he made, hitting the end call button with a frustrated groan.

If Steve wasn’t picking up his phone, there was a damn good reason... or he was technologically inept, which was also pretty likely. He was nearly a hundred years old now, after all. You fought the urge to smash the phone onto the pavement, instead choosing to try and think through the situation.

You had to get to Bucky and warn him before someone else found him. If they truly believed that he was the UN bomber like the reports said he was, they weren’t liable to take him in quietly, especially with his history as the Winter Soldier.

Shit. Think, (Y/N), think. If I were Bucky where the hell would I live to hide from the world government? You racked your brain for somewhere in Bucharest that fit that description. He didn’t own a house. He needed somewhere he could lay low. He had to pay for everything in cash, so the place he stayed would have to allow rent payment in cash. From the research you did for your aunt you knew only a few places allowed that, but they were scattered across the city. It would take you hours to search all of them and that was if you were even allowed into the complexes.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw a large military vehicle speed across the cross street. Your stomach plummeted. You stared after it for a second before you raced after it. You’d never seen a truck like that before in your two years of living in the city. You couldn’t see inside, but if you could you knew you’d see soldiers. They knew he was here.

The part of the city it was headed towards was quieter. You lost sight of it pretty quickly, but others followed after it. Due to glimpses of them through alleys and around corners, you were able to guess where they were headed. It was an older part of town, but was close to an airfield. You were running down a quiet side street when someone grabbed your arm and yanked you into the alleyway.

“Shit!” you exclaimed before a hand clapped over your mouth. Your assailant spun you around and, if not for the hand still over your mouth, you would have announced to the entire neighborhood that Nick Fury was in the alleyway by screaming his name in surprise.

“Can you keep it down?” he asked, raising a critical eyebrow at you. You nodded your head vigorously and he removed his hand.

“What are you doing here, sir?” you hissed, glancing at the entrance of the alley.

“I still know people in the government. I got wind of this impending shitstorm and was worried you’d get caught in the middle of it, being close to Rogers and all,” he said quietly, leaning back against the wall.

“But I’m not the one in the middle of it! Grant- I mean, Bucky- He’s innocent! I have to get to him to warn him!” you said, anxiety getting the better of you, and made a break for the street. His hand closed around your arm before you made it more than a foot.

“Wait, wait. You’ve been in contact with Sergeant Barnes? For how long?” he asked, shocked. You didn’t think the man had ever been or ever would be surprised in his life, but you just proved that wrong.

“I didn’t know for sure that it was him until just now. I thought Bucky was dead, and the man I’ve been spending time with just looked like him,” you said, quaking under the look he gave you.

“You thought it was just some big coincidence that a guy who looks, sounds, and acts exactly like Captain Roger’s former best friend found you?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at you incredulously.

“Alright well when you put it like that it sounds kinda stupid, but so does believing that a dead guy’s up and walking around, alive as can be!” you whisper-yelled at him.

“You never talked to Steve, did you?” he asked, shaking his head in annoyance.

You shook your head. “I turned my phone off as soon as I left D.C. so he couldn’t track it ” you said, holding up the phone in question.

“Normally I’d tell you that was smart, but, damn, you made Steve’s life so much harder than it had to be. And from the sound of it, you made yours more complicated, too,” he said, glaring from the phone to you.

“Wait, Steve knew Bucky’s alive? This whole time?” you asked, blood draining from your face.

“Yeah, found out the Winter Soldier was Sergeant Barnes during the SHIELD take down. He’s been trying to find you ever since, but I’ve been keeping him off your trail. Stupid mistake on my part, apparently. He could have gotten you and his Bucky back in one fell swoop,” he said, crossing his arms as he stared down at you.

You felt like your knees might give out. Something he said earlier nagged at you. “You said something about Steve. He’s here, isn’t he? He’s going after Bucky?” you asked, eyes wide with fear.

Fury sighed and nodded. “Yeah, I think so. I’d be more surprised if he wasn’t here, honestly.”

“I have to go find them,” you said, turning on your heel to run away. Again, he caught your arm and held you in place.

“If you go find them right now you’re more likely to get yourself killed than anything else. The task force has a lot of trained men in there trying to take Barnes down. Rogers will have his hands full keeping him safe. He can’t worry about you, too,” he said, voice apologetic but stern.

“Take him down?” you asked, turning to look at Fury with barely- concealed terror. “As in kill him?”

He sighed, giving you a long, unreadable look before he nodded.

“Let me go,” you said, voice low.

“And what will you do if I do?” he asked, eyeing you suspiciously.

Your jaw clenched as you searched your mind for an answer.

“You don’t even know, do you?” he asked, smirking slightly.

“No!” you yelled, exasperated. He looked around to see if your yelling had attracted any attention, but no one seemed to notice your outburst. “I know I can’t help them in a fight, okay? But I need to get to them, Mister Fury... they mean everything to me,” you said, eyes pleading.

His jaw flexed as he deliberated. After what felt like an eternity, he pulled out a phone. He tapped the screen a few times, staring down at it with his good eye. “They’re taking them to Berlin,” he said, dropping your hand as he looked up from his phone. “A secure facility along the Havel River. North side. I can’t get you details, but I know someone who can. Meet them at Weißes Hirsch. It’s a pub on the north end of town. Do not go to the base itself. However, If you decide to ignore that part- like I think you will- then definitely don’t talk to that bastard Everett Ross or Tony Stark. Ross’ll try to use you as bait and Tony’s not in the best head space right now.”

He gave you a resigned look as you wrote down the pub’s name. “Thank you,” you said, sincerity clear in your voice.

“Don’t thank me. You three haven’t come out of this alive yet,” he said as he turned to walk away. You didn’t want to waste a second, turning on your heel and running out of the alley towards your aunt and uncle’s home. You had plans to make and little time to make them.

Within the hour you’d packed a duffel bag with any essentials for a week’s travel and booked yourself a bus ticket for Berlin, Germany that left later that evening. You’d be in the city by tomorrow afternoon. You said your goodbyes to your aunt and uncle, promising an explanation for your sudden departure later. Your uncle was nice enough to drive you across town to the bus station.

You slept fitfully on the bus, thoughts not allowing you true rest. You arrived in Berlin around noon and called for a cab to take you directly to the pub, whose name translated to the White Deer. You knew little German, but were able to direct your driver to the well-known pub. As you stepped out of the cab you realized you had no idea who you were looking for or if they were even there. You walked into the pub and your anxiety was assuaged when you laid eyes on a conspicuously inconspicuous redhead at the back of the room. Even though she was dressed casually, you spotted her immediately. You hefted your duffel bag over your shoulder and trudged to her table.

She smiled politely up at you. “Tut mir leid, ich warte auf jemanden,” she said, giving you an apologetic smile.

“You’re waiting for Nick Fury, right?” you asked. She didn’t so much as flinch as she slowly reached under her jacket for what you assumed was a gun. “Hold on, hold on. He sent me. He told me you could give me some answers about Steve and Bucky,” you said quietly, hoping no one would hear you except her. Slowly she returned her hands back to the top of the table, gun absent, and she motioned for you to sit.

“No offense, but who the hell are you?” she asked, eyebrow raised.

“Ha, well. No one special. Just someone very concerned for a couple of stupid boys,” you said, placing an elbow on the table and resting your head on your palm.

“What’s your name?” she asked as she looked you over.

“(Y/N). (Y/N) (Y/L/N),” you told her. You weren’t sure if it was wise to trust the famous Black Widow with your actual name, but you needed to trust her and she needed to trust you, it seemed.

Her eyes widened almost imperceptibly. “Steve mentioned you a few times. At least, he mentioned a (Y/N). What are you doing here?” she asked giving you a hard look.

“Nick Fury told me you might be able to help me.”

“With what?” she asked, looking curious and a bit confused.

“I have to help them. Bucky and Steve. Bucky’s innocent. He’s been with me in Romania for the last two years. He couldn’t have been with me and go on a bombing run in a different country at the same time,” you explained, hoping she would believe you.

“Do you have any proof?” she asked as she leaned back and gave you an unimpressed stare.

You groaned. You were hoping she wouldn’t ask that. “No, he’s paranoid. Didn’t want me to take any pictures of him, even after I promised I’d never post them anywhere. Said phones could be hacked and that it wasn’t me he didn’t trust, but the tech itself,” you said.

“If what you’re saying is true, then you’ll just get yourself into trouble if you say you’ve been with him. They’ll think you’ll be part of the assassinations-”

“I don’t care. Please, I have to help, or at least try. I need to try for both of them. I know Steve’s in deep shit, too, now that he’s helped Bucky. He didn’t do it, Miss Romanoff, and I don’t want Steve to take a fall for it, too,” you pleaded. “And if you don’t help me, I’ll march into that building by myself,” you said, face set in determination.

She leaned forward, suddenly tense, and stared you down. You felt anger rolling off of her. “I am trying to help you. I tried to help Steve, too. I told him going in to save Bucky would only make things worse. He didn’t listen, either, and look where that got him: him, Bucky, and Sam grounded. Criminals,” she seethed.

“Steve had to go in. They had orders to shoot for the kill,” you argued. “At least he’s alive. They both are,” you said, glaring at the woman in front of you.

She sighed, leaning back against the booth. “That’s the second time I’ve heard that today.”

“Please, let me at least see them,” you pleaded

She stared at you for a long time, deliberating, before she seemed to make up her mind. “If I take you, you can’t speak about any of this to Ross, the Deputy Task Force Commander. He’s completely convinced that Barnes is behind the bombing, and he’s committed to seeing all three of them locked away. He’ll use you to get to them if he has to. Stay away from Tony, too, while you’re at it. Tony isn’t as fanatical about it. He still wants Steve to join them and thinks all the shit that Steve and Bucky have gotten themselves into can be undone by Steve signing the Sokovia accords, but Steve won’t budge. It’s driving Tony insane,” she said, staring at you seriously.

You’d begun nodding your head in agreement before she’d even finished. “Fury already warned me about Ross. I’ll blend into the background; I should fly right under his radar. Same with Stark. I doubt he stops looking at his reflection long enough to notice anyone else, though,” you said, smirking.

Natasha’s face twisted into a grimace. “Tony cares; more than you’d think. But I can see how you’d think that. He’s a humanitarian but also an insufferable ego maniac,” she said, sliding out of the booth. “So, we have a deal?” she asked, holding out a hand.

“Deal,” you agree, shaking her hand once before you both drop your hands. You slide out of the booth and grab your bag from under the table.

“If anyone asks, you’re one of my contacts checking in,” she said, glancing over her shoulder at you as she opened the door to the pub.

“Alright, sweet. Do I get a secret agent alias?” you asked, suddenly excited.

“Do you need one?” she asked, raising an eyebrow at you as she opened the door of a black Audi A4 on the street outside of the pub. She popped the trunk so you could throw your bag in the back.

You shrugged. “I thought I might,” you said as you tossed your heavy duffel in the trunk and hopped in the passenger side.

You saw her roll her eyes as she pulled out of her parking space and began racing off down the street. “Fine, then you’re now Elena Dalca. Don’t bother giving yourself a story. You’re pretending to be a spy, now. They don’t give away information on themselves. People probably won’t even believe that’s your real name on principle. Feel free to change it every time you introduce yourself just to fuck with people,” she said, grinning wickedly.

“Isn’t this base high security? Like, really high security? Will they just let me in?” you asked, unsure.

“They’ll let you in if you’re not carrying any weapons and I tell them to,” she said. She glanced at you, looking you up and down once. “You’re not carrying weapons, right?” she asked.

“No, of course not!” you said defensively.

“Wait, how did you plan on getting in if I didn’t help you?” she asked, giving you a sideways look.

“Well I didn’t have a solid plan yet, but Plan B was getting arrested by the guards,” you said, grimacing.

She groaned. “That doesn’t even count as a plan,” she said giving you an exasperated look as she turned a corner.

You glanced around you as she drove; you were going further into the city. You occasionally spotted the Havel River through the buildings. “No, it really isn’t,” you said, frowning. “But it’s all I had. I can’t very well break into the base with my nonexistent super strength or teleport them out with imaginary magic powers.”

She snorted at that. “You’d be surprised what one normal human can do,” she said, smirking.

“Okay I’m also not a well-trained kickass super spy,” you said. “But I acknowledge your point.”

She smiled at that, but it quickly slid off her face as she rounded the corner.

A huge building towered over the Havel, part of it on one side, more parts on the other. It was connected buy a large sky bridge. What got your attention, however, was the crowd of people running out of and away from the building, their fear and confusion clear even from a block away.

“Guess we won’t have to worry about sneaking you in, now,” she said as she pulled up onto the sidewalk and parked, scattering scared pedestrians. She opened the door and jumped out and you followed suit. “Forget your bag for now, we have bigger things to worry about,” she said, jogging towards the guardhouse. You nodded and followed her.

“I’m guessing this isn’t normal?” you asked, panting as you tried to keep up with her.

“My definition of normal is a little skewed, but if you’re asking if this is supposed to happen, then the answer is no, it’s not,” she said as she pushed past panicked people. Suddenly she whirled, grabbing your arm. “Stay out here. If there are people attacking the base, you’ll just get yourself killed,” she ordered, turning back towards the building. She pulled out a gun as she ran, face set in determination.

“Wait, Nat- Oh, hell,” you groaned, as she disappeared into the crowd. You glanced around, looking for a way to help. You were unwilling to sit there and twiddle your thumbs, but didn’t feel like walking into death, either.

After you heard an explosion somewhere you couldn’t see in the compound followed by the sound of something huge hitting the river you couldn’t handle being stationary anymore and ran into the building. You gasped when you saw Natasha laying on the floor, gasping as she cradled her neck. A pretty blond was groaning on top of one of the destroyed cafe tables to your left. You ran to the blond first. She was closer. She seemed alright overall, just a bit shaken up. You offered your hand and she grasped it, wincing as you helped her up.

“Thanks,” she said, giving you a small, tight smile. You nodded and ran over to Black Widow, who looked even worse.

“Natasha, are you alright?” you asked, hands hovering, unsure exactly what was wrong with her. She seemed to be in one piece, which was a plus.

“Fine,” she croaked out as she stood, stumbling slightly. You wanted to argue that she was not, in fact, fine, but you liked your bones not broken.

“Agent Romanoff, who is this?” came a voice from behind you. You turned around and realized it was the pretty blond you’d just helped up.

“Agent Dalca. She just arrived to report to me, but stumbled upon this mess instead,” Natasha said before you could speak up.

“Got it,” the blond said, apparently buying Natasha’s bullshit story. “Let’s split up. Natasha, you can canvas the upper floors. I’ll go with Agent Dalca to search the lower floors,” she said, turning to head towards the stairs. The building appeared to be on lock down. You sent Natasha a glance, panic barely concealed. Her gaze flicked from you to the blond before she nodded once.

“Go with Agent Carter. Here are the keys to the car we drove here, just in case you need a getaway car. It’s not bugged or being GPS tracked, I made sure of it. Don’t go for your stuff without me; you’ll never get back into the building on your own. Stay calm and get back to me asap,” she whispered as she pulled the keys to the car out of her jacket pocket and tossed them to you. You shoved them in your pocket as you ran after Carter and bit back your panic. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go.

Agent Carter pulled open the door and you followed after her, sparing one last glance back at Natasha, who had seemingly vanished. The sight wasn’t comforting. You began searching the levels below the ground floor. If you weren’t so tense, you’d be shocked at how huge the building was. Somewhere through the third level, Sharon got a call. She left you alone to survey the room you’d been searching together and went into the next room, shutting the door behind her.

Only, she was in such a rush she didn’t close it all the way. You didn’t mean to eavesdrop, instead trying to use this chance to escape to Natasha, but her words drifted out into the otherwise empty, quiet hallway, and something she’d said made you freeze in your tracks.

“Steve, this is a huge favor-” she hissed, sounding angry and a bit resigned.

Steve? As in... Steve Rogers? She’s on the phone with Steve?

You inched closer to the door as quietly as you could and carefully pushed it open so that you could see her. Her back was turned to you.

Steve must have been talking for a bit. Eventually she spoke again and you strained your ears to make out her words.

“Fine, fine. I get it. You said you need all the gear we took and some stuff for Barnes, too?” A pause, then “Alright, got it. Meet you there. You better be right about all of this,” she said, ending the call.

She turned around and you realized a second too late that you probably should have moved back to the other room. She spotted you watching from the crack in the door and in a flash she’d jumped over the tables in the room, papers scattering to the floor as she went. She wrenched the door open and pulled you inside, throwing you into a table as she slammed the door and locked it. Before you could right yourself, she was on top of you, hand on your throat.

Although she wasn’t completely cutting off your oxygen supply, it was distinctly uncomfortable. “Alright, if you’re an agent of Natasha’s I’m just going to come right out and say it: you’re shit at your job. How much of that did you hear?” she asked, hand squeezing your neck slightly as she glared down at you.

“Enough to know you want to help Steve and Bucky, too,” you choked out, hands clawing at her wrist.

“Help them, ‘too’?” she asked, raising a skeptical eyebrow at you.

You nodded as much as you could with her hand around your neck. “‘S why I’m here. Bucky’s innocent. ‘M here t’help ‘im,” you said, gasping. Her grasp on your neck loosened to almost nothing and you greedily sucked in air.

“Steve just said the same,” she said, staring down at you, sounding cautious.

You nodded, trying to ignore the pang in your heart at the way she said Steve’s name. “I’ve seen Bucky every day for the last three months. It wasn’t him who bombed the Accords meeting,” you said, willing her to believe you.

Something clicked in her head. “That’s why you’re here, right? To try and clear Barnes’ name of the bombing? That’s why Natasha helped you get in?” she asked, finally removing her hand from your neck.

“Yes,” you breathed, rubbing your neck tenderly. She stared at you, looking for any signs of deceit. Seeing none, she stood, extending her hand to help you up. How the tables had turned. You took her hand and she helped you to your feet. You watched as she paced the room, thinking.

After a minute she stopped and turned to you. “You heard all of that, right?” she asked.

“Most of it, I think. You were on the phone with Steve. He asked for his gear back, along with new gear for Bucky? It sounds like you’re going to meet him somewhere with it and it’ll likely get you in loads of trouble,” you said.

She nodded. “Yeah, that’s most of it. We need to get Steve and Sam’s gear out of lockup and snag some equipment for Barnes as well. I could use your help, though,” she said, voice filled with trepidation.

“Anything to help them,” you said, determined.

“If you’re willing, you could be a diversion while I get their gear to them. Getting in and out of the vault isn’t the problem right now while everything’s still a mess. It’s getting all the way to them without getting caught. My car is sure to be tracked,” she explained.

“Oh, I think I might have a solution to that,” you said, pulling out the keys Natasha gave you. “I have a car that’s free of tracking devices and bugs, courtesy of Natasha herself. She was using it to sneak around, so I know it’s clean; She wouldn’t let herself be tracked,” you explained. “We can swap cars. I’ll go one way in yours and you’ll go to the boys in the other,” you said, smiling at your ingenuity.

“Not you?” she asked, eyebrows raised. “You seemed so eager to help them a moment ago; I’m a little surprised you don’t want to go to them,” she said, studying you closely.

You sighed, rolling your eyes. “And which one of us has a better chance of getting to them if this plan goes awry? The girl who works at a produce stand or the highly trained secret agent?” you asked, raising an eyebrow at her. “Yes, I want to help them and, hell, I want to see them again so badly, but no. It has to be you,” you said, tossing her the keys.

She smiled at you, pocketing them. “Alright, it sounds like we have a plan. Let’s go break into a high security vault,” she said, smile widening as your face paled.

“Lead the way, ma’am,” you said, motioning grandly to the door.

“Call me Sharon,” she said as she unlocked the door. “Sharon Carter.”

“I’m (Y/N). (Y/N) (Y/L/N).”

Turns out Sharon was right. Everything was in chaos. The men that had been guarding the vault were still knocked out or dead from the earlier attack. According to Sharon, a man had posed as the doctor sent to psychoanalyze Bucky and had somehow reverted him back into the Winter Soldier. He’d wreaked havoc on the place and then disappeared into the Havel River with Steve. In the confusion, Sam had escaped with them. Forces were focused on finding them, not defending the now mostly empty building. While you and Sharon searched you’d stumbled across a black duffel that you knew could be easily confused with your own. You brought it with you, hoping it would fit all of the gear.

Sharon found the right vault using the cataloguing computer outside of the entrance to the vaults. Your first stop was the armory where you picked out some clothes you knew would fit Bucky; it wasn’t much but it was better than the jeans and thin shirts he’d been wearing when you last saw him. You threw some pistols in for good measure; standard military guns. The feel of the weapons in your hands brought back memories of the Battle of New York. You threw in an SMG for good measure, followed by a few boxes of ammo for each gun.

Sam and Steve’s gear followed. The suits fit into the bag, as did Sam’s wings, but it took a lot of shoving and cajoling to get Steve’s shield to fit. It made the bag bulge awkwardly, but together you managed to zip it up.

You moved to lift it off of the floor and nearly threw out your back. “Fuck, this is heavy. Take one side,” you said, holding onto the handle at one end.

“Oh, hell, you weren’t kidding,” she said, grunting as she grabbed the other end.

“This has got to be the least stealthy thing ever,” you said as you and Sharon made it up to the main floor.

“You’ve never seen Steve try to spy on someone,” she said, chuckling.

“He thinks he doesn’t draw attention? Looking like that? He’s practically a skyscraper. A ripped, handsome skyscraper,” you said in disbelief.

You both froze when you heard voices coming down the hallway. Sharon threw the shoulder strap on, wincing as it dug into her shoulder. You pretended to talk about places to search and the status of the building as a couple of armed agents ran by, giving Sharon a curt nod as they passed.

When they were out of earshot, you both went back to carrying an end. “We need to get out of here quickly. They were headed for the vaults. I don’t know how long it’ll be before they discover the gear’s gone,” she said, picking up the pace.

You groaned. This was difficult to begin with, but moving faster only made it worse. Still, you managed to keep up with her.

Five agonizing flights of stairs later, you were on the main floor, walking out the door. The guards at the main gate were still too preoccupied with getting everyone else taken care of that a quick glance at Sharon’s badge was all you needed to get out with the huge duffel.

“Where’s the car?” Sharon asked, huffing under the weight of the bag.

“Halfway down the block on the sidewalk,” you said, tilting your head to the right.

As you got close she popped the trunk. You maneuvered over to the back and set the larger duffel down. You yanked your duffel out (it felt feather-light by comparison) and shoved the heavier one in. The car’s end dipped ominously before the shocks righted it again. Sharon slammed the trunk shut and pulled out the keys to her car.

“You’re looking for a silver Cadillac ATS-V coupe. Fourth floor of the garage across from the base. Get out of here as soon as possible. Head west out of the city,” she said as she walked to the driver’s side. “Oh, and here,” she said as she dug into her pockets. She pulled out a small wad of euros and handed it to you.

“Thanks.” you said, pocketing the cash. “Steve has my number. Call me when you reach him so I know when it’s safe to ditch the car; I’d rather not be caught if I can help it,” you said, giving her a lopsided smirk.

“Got it,” she said, sliding into the car.

“Go save those boys,” you said, smiling a you shut her door.

She nodded, smiling determinedly at you as she pulled off the sidewalk and sped down the road, taillights disappearing around the corner.

You hefted your bag over your shoulder and walked quickly but as calmly as you could to the garage she mentioned. You took the elevator, knowing your legs wouldn’t make it up four flights of stairs with your bag over your shoulder. Using the key’s unlock button, you quickly found the car as it beeped at you from across the garage, reverse lights flashing at you. You threw your bag into the trunk and only had a second to admire the beautiful exterior before you hopped in the driver’s seat. You peeled out of the garage, trying not to think about how illegal it was to drive in a country you didn’t have a license for. You used the car’s built in GPS to head west, out of the city like Sharon instructed you.

You’d been driving for about twenty minutes before your phone rang in your pocket. You fumbled for it for a second before you pulled it out and pressed the green accept call button.

“(Y/N),” the person on the other side of the line said. You’d been expecting Sharon, so Steve’s deep voice surprised you.

“Stevie?” you asked. You were slightly appalled with yourself at how easily you slipped into using Rosie’s old name for him.

“Yeah, it’s me, sweetheart,” he said. You could hear the smile in his voice.

“Sharon found you, then?” you asked as you searched for a place to pull over and ditch the car.

“Yeah, she did,” he said. You heard him say something else to someone next to him, but he must have held his had over the speaker; his voice was muffled and you couldn’t make out the words.

“Is Bucky there?” you asked before you could stop yourself. You pulled into a parking lot that was next to the nearest bus stop you found. You tossed the keys on the driver’s seat and left the door open, hoping someone would come along and steal it; it might buy you more time.

“Yeah, he’s here,” Steve said. Once again you could hear muffled talking. Apparently it was Bucky he’d been talking to.

“Can I talk to him?” you asked, unsure, brows furrowed in confusion. You would have thought he would have wanted to talk to you immediately.

There was another short, muffled conversation before Steve spoke again. He sounded... angry? Annoyed? It didn’t seem like it was directed at you, though. Bucky, then? “Listen, (Y/N). We have to go. I’m sorry. It’s important. Really important. If we make it out of this, meet me at Rosie’s old place in Brooklyn. Get out of Germany as soon as possible, before authorities catch on that you helped us and Sharon,” he said.

“Steve, what-”

“We love you, sweetheart. Stay safe,” he said, warmth suddenly returning to his voice.

“Steve, you can’t just-” you began, but the beep of him ending the call interrupted you. You angrily tapped the call back button on the phone. You were slightly livid when you got a pre-recorded message telling you the number was unavailable. You tried once more for good measure, but got the same message.

You groaned in frustration and spotted the bus coming down the road out of the corner of your eye. You quickly looked up the word for airport (as well as how to pronounce it) on your phone. The bus slowed down to pick you up, coming to a creaky stop as it opened its doors.

“Flughafen?” you asked the bus driver. He nodded and said something you didn’t understand beyond the word “Ja,” pointing down the road the direction he was going. You knew that one, at least. That meant yes. You hopped on the bus, shoving some euros to the driver. He began to make change but you waved a hand at him.

“Nein, nein. Danke,” you said. That was about your entire German vocabulary there. He shrugged at you and you moved to take a seat on the back of the bus, maneuvering your enormous bag around the seats, and placed it next to you.

Using your phone and the sudden influx of time you’d just found, you booked a flight on the next plane to JFK Airport in New York. With that done, you called three people. Your aunt and uncle were first; You informed them you were going back to America for the foreseeable future, thanked them for letting you stay with them, promised you visit at the behest of your aunt, and told them you loved them.

Next, you called Dean, who seemed surprised to hear from you.

“Thought you weren’t coming back for a while, Boss,” he said. Had his voice gotten deeper? It sounded like it did.

“Dean, did you burn down my cafe?” you asked teasingly.

“No, ma’am,” he said earnestly.

“Dean, I thought we were past you calling me ‘Boss’ and ‘ma’am’,” you said, exasperated.

“Sorry, (Y/N). Old habits die hard,” he said, apologetic.

“It’s alright, dear. My apartment still in one piece, too?” you asked.

“Yes, ma’am. Want me to get it cleaned up for you?” he asked. His thoughtfulness made you smile.

“That would be great, Dean. I’ll be back in about twelve hours,” you said.

“That soon?” he asked, slightly alarmed.

“Yeah, something’s come up,” you said evasively. If he noticed your purposely vague answer, he didn’t say anything about it.

“Alright, I’ll try to have everything ready by then,” he said. You could tell he was already barking orders to the other people working at the cafe. It was about 8 am there. The cafe had been open for two hours already.

“You’re the best, Dean,” you said smiling.

“See you soon, (Y/N),” he said happily. “Have a safe flight.”

“Will do,” you said, ending the call.

You sighed and leaned your head against the windows of the bus. You tried not to think about how Bucky hadn’t talked to you. If he was right there it should have been easy for him to just.. say something, anything, to you. And even though Steve was telling the truth, something was off. He’d sounded annoyed and angry after you’d asked if you could talk to Bucky, but you could tell it wasn’t directed at you.

Could it be that Bucky didn’t want to talk to you? That would elicit that reaction from Steve, but that was impossible. Steve said it himself. They were headed straight towards danger. You might not see them again- Bucky would never-

Your thoughts swirled ominously in your head, making you dead to the world until it came to a jolting stop. You realized you’d arrived at the airport. You hopped off using the back door and clutched the strap of your duffel, trying to lessen the pain of it digging into your shoulder.

You pushed all of your thoughts about Bucky and Steve to the back of your mind. This would take all of your attention. Airports were tricky when you spoke the language everything was in, but this would be an adventure.

“New York, here I come.”

Chapter 9

This series is finished, but if you want to be tagged in my other fics, check out this post! Sorry, but responses to this post asking to be tagged will be ignored, so send me an ask or like one of the taglist posts!

☕ Buy Me a Coffee! ☕

#Bucky x Reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers #steve x reader #steve rogers x reader #natasha romanoff #black widow #marvel fanfiction #reincarnation!au #soulmate!au #sharon carter #nick fury

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lenacorporations · 7 years

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mojitos and margaritas | sc

{ao3} | ~3.4k | bartender au

It’s a busy night at Luthors. The queue rounds the corner, and Kara has to push past what seems like an endless sea of bodies to get to the main entrance.

“Good evening, Kara,” Hector says, his otherwise stoic face cracking into a grin as he lets her through. “How’s your day?”

“Pretty good. My sister had the day off, so we spent all day watching Netflix on the couch eating junk food. Best way to spend your time, if you ask me.” Kara readjusts the strap of her bag on her shoulder. “Yours?”

“Less exciting. Had to take my cat to the vet, we think she ate something weird. Surgery went well, though. My husband’s home with her, and he keeps texting me updates.”

Kara pats his bicep. “I’m glad to hear that. If pets only knew how much trouble they put us through, right?” She grins, before jerking her thumb over her shoulder. “My shift is about to start. Good luck out here.”

“You too,” he says, turning his attention back to the people in the front of the queue who are asking how long they still have to wait before they’ll be let inside.

With some effort, a lot of, “Excuse me, coming through,” and too much accidental butt touches, Kara shuffles past the wall to the back of the building, where the staff room is located. She passes by the bar, waving at Sam and Gayle, who are working their asses off mixing drinks and whatnot, hurrying to put her bag down and put on her apron.

As soon as she’s done she slips behind the bar, greeting her coworkers. “How’s it going so far?”

“Busy,” Gayle says, filling shot glasses up to the brim. “It’s about time you showed up.”

“It’s a little overwhelming,” Sam shouts over the music, glaring at Gayle. “Every time you think it can’t get worse, it gets worse. This,” she gestures at the multitude of customers waiting to order, “has been going on for at least two hours. We could really use your help.”

Kara nods. “Who’s been waiting the longest?”

“People on that side,” Sam says, gesturing at the other side. “We tried to divide the bar into sections to make it go smoother, but it sort of backfired because people keep moving around. Now that you’re here, though, we can try to pick it up again. I’ll let Gayle know. You just worry about your section over there.”

“Got it.” Kara makes a thumbs up at Sam, moving past her to get to the other side. The bar is in the middle of the room, with three sunken dance floors and one seating area with booths and tables surrounding it. From the seating area you can get to the VIP lounge, half a floor higher than the rest. The VIP lounge has its own bar, although there’s mostly champagne and some expensive wines stored there. For most cocktails and beer, the VIPs have to come down to the regular bar.

Kara’s section is adjacent to the seating area, which means she has to wipe tables and bring back empty glasses and whatnot from there on top of her normal bartending duties, but usually it’s also quieter than everywhere else.

Kara works her way through the customers as fast as she can, mixing drinks and tapping beer and pouring shots, before slipping from behind the bar to collect the empty glasses scattered everywhere. She’s humming along to the melody of a song when she bumps into someone, almost dropping her tray.

“Sorry,” she mumbles, expecting an angry comment but getting a hug instead. “Wait, wh—” She blinks, before recognizing her friends. “Oh, hey!”

“I can’t believe you have to work the night I get back into town,” Lucy shouts into her ear, grabbing both of Kara’s biceps to look at her. Behind her, James is smiling down at the both of them, and Winn is awkwardly bopping his head to the beat with a drink in his hand.

“I can’t believe you’re here!” Kara shouts back. “At Luthors, I mean. I totally knew you would be here in National City today. Obviously.”

Lucy shakes her head with a grin. “Of course you did.”

Kara’s eyes widen. “Really! I knew. I even wrote it down in my planner. We’re throwing a party tomorrow to celebrate, okay?” She looks at James and Winn, who nod immediately. “Why are you here, though? Don’t you want a quiet night in?”

“Are you kidding? Luthors is the hottest place in town, and I’ve never been because I was overseas,” Lucy says, and Kara finally notices the slight slurring of her words. “First order of business; drinking and dancing.”

“Alright, alright,” she says, giving Lucy a quick hug and gently pushing her towards James. “Take care of her, okay? I gotta get back to work, before I break all these glasses.”

Glancing over her shoulder to where Lucy and James have resumed dancing close together and Winn is awkwardly hopping from one leg to the other around them, Kara carries her tray back to the bar.

“Took you long enough,” Gayle says, but her tone isn’t as harsh as before now that things have calmed down a bit. And then, in a quieter voice, “Boss is here. We just saw him come in.”

Kara’s head snaps up in the general direction of the VIP lounge. And indeed, its filled with Lex Luthor and his party. While everyone’s settling into their seats, Lex is still standing, broad-shouldered and tall, overlooking the room. Then he turns around and sits down next to a girl with dark hair and a black top, smiling down at her as he briefly touches her shoulder.

She’s really pretty, and Kara finds herself staring just a little too long.

“Didn’t know you were into Luthor,” Gayle says with a smirk. “You look like you’re about to start drooling.”

Kara blinks, jabbing her fingers into Gayle’s side. “Who’s the girl? I’ve never seen her before.”

Gayle glances over her shoulder in between pouring shots of tequila and putting lemon and salt on the bar. “Her? I don’t know. Probably his new fling or something.”

“Yeah, probably,” Kara mumbles, allowing herself to stare a few seconds longer, before turning back to her work.

The next few hours go by in a haze. She makes so many drinks she loses count, and her pockets are slowly filling up with tip money. More and more people start slurring their orders, and she even has to refuse a man that can barely sit on the stool anymore his next order of a scotch on the rocks, calling him a cab instead.

When Kara has her break, she spends it sitting at a table with a pretty drunk Lucy and a slightly more sober James, listening to funny stories of things that happened during Lucy’s time overseas. It’s fun and her fifteen minutes of freedom fly by, and then Gayle is tapping on her shoulder because she’s about to clock out and she wants to say goodbye before leaving.

Kara hugs her—Gayle says she hates hugs and pretty much everything nice, but they have a solid friendship going on and Kara knows Gayle secretly likes their hugs—and when she returns to the bar, Sam is dabbing water on her face to stay awake.

Things are slowly calming down in the club; most people are either too tired or too drunk to keep on dancing and ordering drinks, and gaps are forming in the crowd where you can actually see the floor.

For the first time that night, Kara doesn’t have a lot to do except clean the bar and have short conversations with Sam as they smoothly move past each other with practiced steps.

“How’s Ruby?”

“Good,” Sam grins. “She started middle school so now she hates pink and thinks it’s embarrassing when I drive her to school instead of making her ride the bus.”

Kara laughs. “Oh god, good luck with that when puberty hits.”

Sam shrugs, finishing polishing the wine glasses. “Can’t be worse than mine. I mean, I got knocked up and now I’m stuck with a prepubescent teen.”

“Better be quick to teach her about birth control then.” Kara tucks the dishcloth into her apron, patting Sam’s arm. She looks at Sam to see if the joke caught on, but Sam nods her head at something behind Kara instead.

“Ahem,” a voice says, and when Kara turns around she realizes it’s the girl that was with Lex earlier. “Excuse me, I’d like to order a drink.”

Kara’s mouth goes dry. From up close the girl is even more beautiful, with red lipstick and a sharp jaw. The corners of her mouth are curled into a soft smile, and even though it’s hard to make out the color of her eyes Kara notices they’re bright—blue or green, maybe.

She barely remembers how to breathe as she leans in to properly hear the girl’s order over the music and a waft of Chanel flows her way.

“Can I have a mojito please?” the girl asks, still smiling. “The champagne here is really good, but nothing tops a cocktail in my opinion.”

Kara nods, her tongue suddenly heavy in her mouth. She makes the drink on autopilot, glancing over her shoulder every now and then, just to catch a glimpse of this mystery girl. Who is she? How does she know Lex Luthor? Why is she smiling at Kara like that?

“Get it together, Danvers,” Kara mumbles, way too tempted to take a swig of the rum. Shaking her head at her own behavior, she takes a deep breath. With a painfully bright smile, she places the drink in front of the girl. “I made it extra strong.”

“Thanks,” the girl grins, pressing a twenty into Kara’s hand. “Keep the change.”

Kara brain haywires a little as she feels the girl’s skin against her own, but she manages to put the money into the register and take out the remaining six dollars to put it into her pocket. When she looks up, the girl is still smiling at her. Their eyes meet, and the girl’s smile brightens and Kara can’t help but smile back.

She mixes a few more drinks, trying her hardest not to look at the girl again, before Sam bumps into her with a mischievous grin. “Who’s your secret admirer?”

Kara almost chokes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“That girl’s been sitting there stirring her mojito for at least fifteen minutes, and she’s barely taken her eyes off of you. I think it’s safe to say she’s into you.”

“Did Gayle put you up to this? You know she wants me to start dating again, she’s been bugging me about it for weeks now.” Kara purses her lips, stealing one glance over her shoulder.

Sam is right. That girl is still staring at her. She smiles when Kara looks her way, and her face is really cute when she smiles. Damn it.

“Ask her number,” Sam says, eyes flickering up to the gigantic clock hanging from the wall next to the bar. “We’re closing in, like, thirty minutes. She can wait thirty minutes.”

“I’m not going to hook up with a random girl at the bar,” Kara hisses, but she can feel her defenses failing. She hasn’t been with anyone after James said he wanted to try again with Lucy, and she did complain about her lack of a love life to Alex the other day after seeing her with Maggie. And the fact that this girl is really attractive doesn’t help either.

“Then ask her out on a date,” Sam shrugs. “I don’t see the big deal. She obviously thinks you’re hot, and you’re definitely into her, so who cares? You’ve got nothing to lose.”

Kara sighs, catching a glimpse of the girl’s hair from behind Sam. “If you put it that way…”

“I did. Go get the girl. I’ll close up. It’s not like there’s a lot of stuff left to do—kind of feels like everyone collectively decided to go home at the same time. This place is virtually empty.”

Kara purses her lips, stepping aside to let Sam pass to the other side of the bar. The girl is still sitting at the bar, on her phone this time, but as soon as Kara steps in front of her, she looks up with a grin.

“Hey,” she says.

“Hi.” Kara swallows, suddenly remembering why she’s single. Asking someone out is hard.

“Can I order another drink?”

Kara quirks her eyebrow, a dreadful feeling filling her chest. “You barely touched your mojito yet. Are you… waiting for someone?”

“As a matter of fact, I am.” The girl smirks, sliding another twenty over the bar. “Do you have any recommendations? I’m not sure what she likes.”

Trying to mask her disappointment, Kara shrugs. “I’ve always liked margaritas.”

The girl’s face brightens. “Can I have that, then?”

“Sure.” With a sigh, Kara turns away to make the drink. When Sam frowns at her from across the bar, she makes a face and shows the glass to her, subtly nodding her head and holding up two fingers. Sam’s eyes flicker between the two of them, and an unreadable expression spreads across her face, before she turns her attention to another customer.

Kara finishes mixing the margarita, placing it on the bar. “Here you go.”

The girl clinks her own glass against the brim of the second one. “Cheers.”

Kara blinks. “Wait, what?”

“I said ‘cheers’. You know, a custom saying people usually say to each other before they have a drink together.” The girl chuckles at Kara’s baffled expression. “I’m buying you a drink.”

“Oh.” Kara’s eyes flicker from the girl to the drink and back to the girl, and she feels her face flush with embarrassment. “Oh. Oh my god. I’m so sorry, I totally—wow, that really went over my head.”

“It’s okay,” the girl grins. She holds her hand up over the bar. “I’m Lena, by the way.”

“Kara,” Kara says, shaking Lena’s hand. “And thank you so much for the margarita, but I’m not really a fan of drinking on the job.”

“I know,” Lena says, turning her wrist to look at her watch. “But your shift ends in fifteen minutes, and I figured it was worth the wait.”

“I—” Kara meets Lena’s eyes again. They’re green, and wow, they’re beautiful. “You make a very strong case.”

“I know,” Lena says, taking a sip from her drink. She looks like she’s about to say something else, when Lex and the remainder of his party come down from the VIP lounge. He’s taken off his jacket, his tie is undone and hanging from his neck, and he looks a lot less like Kara’s boss and a lot more like a regular dude who likes spending time with his friends.

“Good night, Kara,” he says, still sounding extremely well put-together despite looking everything but. Without another word, he wraps his arms around Lena and kisses the top of her head. “Good night, Lena.”

“Night, Lex,” Lena smiles, looking at him with a soft look in her eyes. “I had fun tonight.”

He grins a toothy grin, before walking off with a handful of people following him. Kara watches them leave, slightly amused at the sight of her boss being very obviously far from sober, which is somehow funnier than if it were anyone else.

“I saw you in the VIP lounge with him and the rest of his group earlier,” Kara says. “How do you know him?”

“He’s my brother,” Lena shrugs. “I recently moved down here from Metropolis, and he wanted to show me what this place is like when it’s open, because I’ve only seen it when it’s empty.”

“Your brother?” Kara exclaims, loud enough for some of the people around them to look up. “My boss is your brother? Doesn’t that make this whole thing,” she gestures at their drinks, “kind of… weird?”

Lena narrows her eyes and tilts her head slightly. “Does it? I’m not involved in the business, and Lex is very professional. But if it makes you uncomfortable…” She trails off, a hint of disappointment in her voice.

“I guess it’s okay? I didn’t expect it, that’s all. You don’t really look alike. I thought you were his girlfriend, at first.”

Lena’s face contorts in disgust. “No, gross. I may be white, but I’m really not into the whole incest thing. But you’re right—I’m adopted, that’s why we don’t look alike.”

“You are? Cool! Me too.” Kara grins. “I didn’t even know he had a sister. Not that we really talk a lot about that sort of stuff, or anything unrelated to work, really. I bet he would’ve told me if we, you know, talked about personal stuff. I didn’t mean to imply—”

“Hey, Kara?” Lena interrupts. She pushes the drink closer to Kara. “You’re off the clock, so you might want to take a sip. You look a little red in the face.”

Kara bites her lip, gaze shifting to the hands on Lena’s watch. She’s right, it’s officially time to close. “Right.” She takes the glass, clinks it against Lena’s, and sips. “Sorry.”

Lena chuckles, swirling the melting ice cubes around in her glass. “Don’t worry, I’m just messing with you. You look beautiful.”

Kara almost chokes on her drink, coughing as she actively tries not to die because a pretty girl complimented her. “Th-thank you. You too, actually.”

Smirking, Lena downs the rest of her drink in one go. “Now that you’re free, do you wanna get out of here? I stole a bottle of wine from the VIP bar upstairs. It’s in my purse. If you want.”

“Yeah,” Kara sighs, following Lena’s example and finishing her drink. “Yeah, I’d like that. Let me just sign off and say goodbye to Sam, alright? You can wait outside, if you want.”

Lena nods, and Kara steps to the other side of the bar, where Sam is just finishing up cleaning the bar. “So… turns out the mystery girl��s name is Lena, and she’s Lex’s sister. And she stole a bottle of wine.”

Sam shakes her head with an amused grin on her lips. “If she’s Lex’s sister I guess that means I won’t have to report her for theft and seducing the bartender into lazing around.”

Kara smacks her arm, but her chest feels too full to be able to stop smiling. “Shut up. I’m leaving now. With Lena. Say hi to Ruby from me, okay?”

“I will.” Sam wiggles her eyebrows. “Have fun.”

“I’m going to ignore that.” Kara slips from behind the bar into the staff room. She unties her apron and grabs her bag, slinging it over her shoulder. She’s starting to feel the buzz from the margarita, and spending time with Lena and a bottle of wine is starting to look like an increasingly better idea with every passing second.

When she emerges from the staff room, the music has been turned off, and the lights are switched back on. The dance floors are vacated, with the last people stumbling outside, and Sam is wrapping up closing the bar.

Kara crosses the empty room to outside, hastily greeting the security guard and pushing past a few drunk people attempting to call an Uber, and she spots Lena leaning against the wall a couple of feet away, reading something on her phone.

She looks up as Kara walks up to her, cracking a smile. “There she is.” She holds out her hand, lacing their fingers together. “Ready?”

“One second,” Kara breathes. She’s known to hold her alcohol, but the combination of a really hot girl holding her hand and the fact that she just pretty much chugged an entire drink make her head feel light and her decision making ability less than ideal.

It’s just that Lena’s lipstick is a little smudged and Kara hasn’t felt this way about anyone in a long time, and Lena’s thumb is rubbing the back of her hand, and—

Lena smiles, leaning just as much into the kiss as Kara. She stands up on her toes, and Kara drops her bag as she wraps both her arms around Lena’s waist. Their teeth clash a little from smiling too much, but Lena tastes like lemon and sugar, and the whole thing is just a little messy and sort of perfect all at the same time.

Kara’s panting slightly when they pull back, and her hand finds Lena’s again. “Now I’m ready.”

#supercorp #lena luthor #kara danvers #supergirl #fanfiction #i wrote a thing

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vvdbvvotv · 7 years

Text

I'll Make You Believe

Tyler Joseph Imagine

Part 1

Pairing: Tyler Joseph x Reader (as best friends and maybe a little more)

Request: The reader is suicidal and wants to commit, but doesn’t want to hurt those that care

Warnings: Suicidal thoughts, depression, panic attack, fluff

Words: 1,833

It was cloudy and cold, a perfect match to describe your mood. You stared out the school bus window as it drove through potholes filled with rain water. You were in 11th grade, on your way home from high school. It was a long and tiring week. Each day dragged on and you were grateful tomorrow was the start of the weekend. High school was a waste for you; you had the attention span of a brick wall and zero concentration or effort. You also lacked in any type of social skills. All of these things combined equaled absolute torture for eight hours straight and five days a week. That’s not even mentioning the other factors that made you even more mentally unstable.

Everyone at school was stupid and annoying in your opinion, including yourself. People in their dumb popularity groups, dumb fads, dumb people using that-one-filter-every-single-living-soul uses on Snapchat. You hated it all. You hated possibly every single person that tried to talk to you. Talking to people was a risk- you didn’t easily trust people. Even your parents didn’t understand you because of how much of a mystery you are to them, but of course they don’t know that. Opening up to them was still as hard as talking to anyone else.

The truth was, even though you despised others who tried to talk to you, you couldn’t be more thankful for one particular person that did. Honestly, you were surprised this person even talked to you in the first place. You stopped staring out the window and turned to the boy sitting next to you. He was looking down at his phone, one hand in the pocket of his favorite yellow hoodie. The dark haired boy was wearing his earbuds, blocking out all the chaos happening from various parts of the bus. He looked up from his phone for a moment, turned his head, and made eye contact with you and smiled before looking down again. You scooted slightly closer to him before getting lost in your thoughts once again.

The boy’s name was Tyler and he was your life saver. Tyler was the one person in the world of seven billion people that you trusted. You met him on your first day of freshman year. Tyler was the new student and out of 2,311 people he decided to ask you where the science wing of your school was. You were grateful for that day, but often felt anxious about how different things would be if he didn’t end up talking to you. Tyler told you everything while you tried to tell him everything too. You were still slightly scared to talk to Tyler about your personal issues sometimes, but whenever you did he made you feel way better. He always comforted you and made you realize you weren’t alone. Even though Tyler didn’t know exactly what you were going through and how you felt, he reassured you that he wouldn’t leave you. He wouldn’t stay during your best moments and fade when you were at your worst. But you still had doubts. There was still that nagging voice in the back of your head spitting harsh yet believable things to you.

He’s pretending.

For two years? Tyler cares. He’s stuck by me for that long.

Oh please, he’s too good for you. Don’t deny it.

That was something you did believe. You snuck a quick glance at Tyler before looking out the window again. Heat was slowly creeping to your face, making it turn a light shade of pink. Tyler was attractive. He had warm brown eyes that made you melt whenever you looked into them, dark brown hair that looked soft to the touch, and full lips. At first glance, yiu would think he was a jock. But Tyler didn’t take advantage of those perks about himself. It was one thing about him that confused you. He never tried to make many friends or talk to any of the other girls. There was a high chance that Tyler could probably date anyone or be part of any group he wanted to, but he didn’t. He didn’t attend any sports events or go to many parties.

Tyler was actually very quiet. He kept to himself and usually wrote in a blood red, hardcover notebook daily. Songs, Tyler would say whenever you asked what he was doing. He would usually only show his friend Josh and you for some reason you didn’t understand. You didn’t really know Josh, but according to Tyler he “played drums and liked kittens.” It made you feel awful that Tyler chose to spend more of his free time with you being emotionally unstable while Josh was all alone. “Don’t worry,” Tyler would normally say, “he’s probably at a pet store or something.”

Tyler nudged your shoulder to remind you that you’d be getting off the bus soon. You hadn’t taken anything out of your backpack, so you waited for Tyler to put away his belongings before following him down the narrow aisle of the bus. As you were walking, you noticed many people eyeing Tyler as he walked by while looking at you in disgust. This made you feel ashamed so you hung your head low and walked faster, eventually bumping into Tyler as you reached the front of the bus. People near you snickered.

“Sorry Ty Guy,” you mumbled a quick apology. “Ty Guy” had been a name you called Tyler within days of meeting him. It stuck ever since.

“No big deal,” Tyler smiled at you once again.

Tyler and you stepped down the bus steps and walked towards your home. You two were only four houses away from each other, which was very convenient. The walk from the bus stop to your house took about 15 minutes.

You trailed a couple paces behind Tyler, pondering about various things. Suddenly, the same voice returned to your head and you had another silent conversation.

He’s not looking back at you, probably ignoring you. It said.

It’s fine, Tyler probably doesn’t realize.

Exactly. He doesn’t care, he’s trying to get rid of you. Explains why he’s walking so fast. He smiled at you because he feels bad for you. He doesn’t want to hurt your feelings but really he hates you there’s so much evidence.

You felt your heart drop hearing these things. It’s just your head, it’s not real, you thought. But at the same time it was real because it was inside your head. You were thinking these things and you believed them.

You stopped walking for a couple seconds to see if Tyler would notice. He didn’t. He kept walking and didn’t look back; it was like you didn’t even exist in his world.

Correct once again.

Somehow within only a few minutes or even seconds, the sky and pretty much everything seemed to grow darker. Tyler was now nearly a speck in the distance. The trees casted eerie shadows and the clouds were haunting. You felt panic rising. Your best friend didn’t notice what was happening, he didn’t remember your existence. Was Tyler even your friend? Were the echoes in your messed up mind really true? They knew everything didn’t they.

You felt a feeling that you hadn’t felt in about a week. You felt like everything was trying to suffocate or drown you: the clouds, the air, your own skin. You didn’t understand why a panic attack chose to happen at this random moment, but then it hit you. Tyler. Tyler helped you, Tyler was always there, Tyler’s soothing voice saved you. But now there wasn’t any of him. Now he was gone and you couldn’t see him anymore. You were alone in the dying daylight.

Your heavy backpack made your knees give and you crumpled to the ground. It felt like your heart wasn’t working properly. It was as if you were paralyzed and broken but somehow going to spasm at any given moment. Tears flooded your eyes and you hated yourself for it. You hated being so weak and for crying in the middle of your neighborhood. Your breathing became uneven and you didn’t know how to fix it. You didn’t know how to do anything because you were completely disconnected from the world. Muffled hearing, blurry vision, and nausea struck you.

Suddenly, there was a familiar voice. A familiar sound. You turned your head as best you could and saw the dark haired boy who could fix anything sprinting towards you. And then there he was in front of you dropping his backpack on the sidewalk and crawling towards you with emotion flooding his eyes.

Tyler immediately wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you towards him. You flinched at his touch and your breathing became even more uneven. Tyler sat with his legs out in front of him and pulled the top half of your body onto his lap. You looked up at him, struggling to breathe.

“Ty-” you began.

“Shh, (Y/N) don’t talk just listen, it’s me Tyler. I’m right here. I’m not leaving anytime soon.” Tyler said quietly.

He slowly rocked back and forth with you in his arms.

“Okay,” he continued. “You need to breathe. Look at me- no- don’t close your eyes. Look at me.”

Tyler gently placed his right hand on your stomach while his left arm still supported you. You squirmed at his touch and almost screamed while trying to escape. Tyler pulled you back towards him.

“I’m not gonna hurt you, I just need to make sure you’re breathing evenly. Copy me, I know you can do it. In and out- yeah! That’s good. Keep doing that. Look how easy breathing is,” Tyler said.

You started breathing regularly again, but you were still nauseous and dizzy. It was hard to focus on Tyler’s face that was only inches away from you. Tyler began rocking back and forth again while wrapping his arms tighter around you. His careful embrace made you feel safe once again. You stayed like this. Sitting on the sidewalk with Tyler’s and your belongings scattered everywhere. Tyler kept whispering comforting words to you and rubbed your arm slowly. Eventually, he started to quietly sing one of his songs to you.

…I hear a second voice behind your tongue somehow

Luckily I can read your mind

Flies and cobwebs unwind.

You closed your eyes, clinging onto Tyler and the lyrics he was singing.

They will not take you down

They will not cast you out.

All traces of day had vanished and streetlights became the only source of light. The last thing you remember was being picked up carried home by Tyler.

“Thanks Ty Guy,” you said wearily.

Before you drifted to sleep, you could’ve sworn you heard Tyler say one last thing.

“(Y/N) you’re gonna be alright, okay? I promise… I love you.”

To be continued…

#twenty one pilots #twenty one pilots imagine #twenty øne piløts #tøp imagine #imagine #fanfic #tyler joseph #tyler joseph x reader #tyler x reader #josh dun #joshua dun #skeleton clique #clique #writing #story

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andorandrook · 7 years

Text

Hellion

since some of you guys like my writing I thought I might as well share with you the first part of a non-fanfic story that I wrote in the summer. it’s unfinished and is likely to never be finished but if you’re curious, give it a read and please tell me what you think!

The journey to work that day was as uninteresting as usual.

My blaring alarm had woken me with just the right amount of time to shower and dress myself but not enough for breakfast so I grabbed an apple to eat while I walked. It was bitter, unpleasantly soft and the crunch of it between my teeth felt so loud and like physical attack on my already pounding head. I let it fall from my hand to the grimy pavement after just a couple of bites. However much I wished I could just leave it at that I knew I’d need energy for later.

The shop I stopped at was just down my street; the sort of flickeringly lit, messily stocked place that never closes and never has anything you’d truly want to buy. At this evening hour any decent shop would be closed so in a way I was lucky to live in convenient distance. The door was a little stiff and rattled when I opened it, causing the bored-looking shopkeeper to look up and recognise me. He didn’t know my name, I’d never said a word to him but he clearly didn’t get regular customers as consistent as me. I’d never stolen anything and yet his eyes still followed me warily around the shelves as if I looked like the type. I should feel insulted, in all honesty. I didn’t.

I grabbed some trashy cereal bar, a bottle of water and some chewing gum. When I went up to the desk to pay my eyes lingered longingly on the packeted cigarettes behind. My throat twitched with the urge, how easy it would be to ask for some. I didn’t.

The cereal bar was my usual brand but in my haste I had bought a different flavour than usual. It was sticky to the touch and cloyingly sweet with bits of fruit scattered in it. Not great. Better than that apple though.

I waited at the bus stop for the last trip of the day, precariously balanced on one of those useless benches used to stop anyone sleeping on them. A cat startled across the street in my direction and proceeded to rub its side against my leg, marking it with the scent of its hideously patched fur. I kicked it away.

The bus journey was similarly uneventful. I listened to music and determinedly ignored to scant few other passengers traveling at this time. I watched the street lamps go past through the smudged, scratched glass and the rhythmic passing off the light almost sent me to sleep before my stop. I was jerked back into the present by the hissing of the breaks and stumble down the aisle off the bus.

A few minutes more walking and I approached what appears from the outside to be some kind of abandoned industrial building. It was a little early for people to start arriving but a few patrons have gathered already in the concrete courtyard outside. I nodded to them in greeting, glad that they didn’t recognise me with the hood of my jumper pull down over my head. I quickly made it round the back to the ‘tradesman’s entrance’. There was a keypad and intercom system next to an unremarkable door, dwarfed by the scale of the building. I press the button to request entrance. It crackled with static.

“Hey, it’s Ryan,” I spoke at the wall. I received only silence and static as a response. “Ryan Benton.” Still nothing. I sighed. “Hellion.”

“Oh right, sorry man, come in,” the intercom voice muttered and the door clicked open.

I had thought the stage name had sounded cool at the time I had chosen it, when I was just starting out aged seventeen. Now I had to force myself to say it, wincing at how childish it sounded. Inside the building was dry and oddly warm as I closed the door. I was accustomed to this, however, simply shrugging my hooded jumper off as I climbed the staircase and ran my fingertip over the exposed brick. It came away grossly covered with dust and dirt. I promptly wiped it on my trousers before entering the first door on the left.

“Ah, Ryan, I’m so glad you’re early!” Julia exclaimed as I attempted to enter without causing a fuss. She grinned at me, an uncommonly genuine smile for her, and ushered me back out of the door.

Julia Lund had been my ‘manager’ from pretty much the beginning. A plump women that I would have placed at around thirty-five with permanently pursed lips and dirty blond hair scraped back tightly into a ponytail, she had been almost a mother-figure to me since she took me on. There were better managers around, of course, and I did not stick with her out of a sense of loyalty; I liked that she spoke frankly without embellishment or euphemism, I liked that she was one of the few people I knew who were shorter than me. Most of all I liked that she was unemotional, uncompassionate and ruthless. That was how to succeed in this kind of industry.

“I’m not early,” I shrugged, glancing at my watch.

“Well, I’m glad you’re not late, then,” she snapped. “Anyway, I have a surprise for you today, kid.”

“A...good surprise?”

“I hope you’ll think so. She’s very expensive so you’d better like her,” she laughed, though there was certainly an undercurrent of threat. She gestured for us to descend the staircase I’d just climbed, to my mild annoyance, but then kept going down. However much I personally disliked the basement layers of the building, I knew better than to argue with Julia, instead meekly following her down. The heat only seemed to increase as we reached the desired floor. When Julia opened the door labeled ‘Storage 6’ I was immediately enveloped in a wave of moist air heavy with the scent of animal and metallic tang of blood. I took a breath, ran my fingers through my hair, and followed her inside.

Each cage was a three meters cube, bulletproof plastic mesh supported by thick steel bars. There were about twenty cages in this one room; one room of dozens more underneath the main complex. On each cage was the name of the agency it belonged to and occasionally other specifications. In each cage were the animals.

I didn’t spare a glance the the dead-eyed creatures as I walked past and they didn’t care to look at us. There were larger animals, wolves and lions and bears, alone in their confines whilst the smaller beasts shared two or three to a cage. Each one made no reaction to our presence.

We stopped at the cage furthest from the entrance to the room, labeled with the logo of Julia’s agency. Julia was more careful than most with her creatures, each one being securely locked away to prevent anyone stealing these valuable animals. She quickly typed in a code and the cage door clicked open. Neither of us had to duck to get inside.

The animal inside was lying down, head lolled to one side and eyes staring blankly ahead. She was huge; stretched out she could easily have touched both walls of her enclosure. Not elegant in the slightest, she was of a stocky build, her head a squat jumble of features with wide set eyes in an unappealing shade of yellow. Beauty wasn’t an issue, however, when it was clear how much power was held in those thick muscles that heaved with every breath, mouth opening to reveal a mouth of sharp teeth and wide tongue.

“What is she?” I asked, keeping my distance but squatting down so I could look closer.

“A tileguaress,” she stated. I raised my brow and she sighed impatiently. “A hybrid. A lion had a baby with a tiger and that baby then had a baby with a jaguar. Or it might’ve been the other way round.”

Now that she had explained her parentage, I could see where the animal got her looks. The body shape very much resembled a lion with its stout build and oversized head.. The colouring was that of a melanistic jaguar, a panther as it is known; dark grey-black fur, thick and dense, spotted with faded rosettes that become clearer on the lighter coloured belly. Her tiger heritage was expressed primarily in her enormous size, but also with larger paws and a flatter snout on what would otherwise be a jaguar-like head.

“It doesn’t matter either way,” Julia continued. “She’s fast, she’s strong and, more importantly, she’s yours.”

My head snapped round to face her, grin already spreading on my face. Mine.

I looked back at the animal and noticed now that the right ear was incomplete, a roughly semi-circular hole in the shape of a bite mark had been cut from the edge, relatively recently if the red rawness of the flesh was a good indicator. That’s my mark. That means she’s mine.

“Well...what do you think?” Julia pressed.

“She’s amazing. When do I get to try her out?”

“I’ve got you last slot tonight. It’s going to be the main event,” she grinned, clearly proud of herself. I hold her gaze, cynical causing her to shrug. “You don’t need any practise, you’ll be fine. Apparently she handles just like a tiger.”

“Can she roar?”

“You’ll have to find out,” she smirked.

I reached out as if to touch the animal’s face but instead brushed the metal device attached under her ear. It was one of the latest models, brand new by the looks of it, small and smooth enough that it could not get caught on anything. When it was switched on I knew the small light would pulse blue. It was newly installed, too, and just for a moment I allowed myself to wonder what this great beast was like before they fixed wires into her brain and dosed her up with chemicals to make her as placid and dumb as a baby.

Even though she stared blankly forward I still felt a flash of guilt when I looked into her eyes. It was gone in an instant and I stood, turning to the exit.

“You going to name her?”

I glanced at Julia, then back down to the undisturbed creature. “Maybe. If she lasts the week.”

“She’d better. I spent good money on that thing, you’d better not get her killed until I’ve reaped my investment five times over at a minimum,” Julia said sternly as we exited the cage. “I’ll give you manageable opponents.”

I scoffed. “Who are we against later?”

“One of Hauxwell’s lot; a lion, I think.”

“Do you reckon we’re up to it?”

Julia locked that cage but stayed peering through the mesh. “Look at her, Ryan.”

I do. I see muscles and teeth and claws and a single torn ear. Mine.

“You’re going to be just fine,” she reassured and patted me on the shoulder.

We walked back up the seemingly endless staircases in silence. I struggled to keep up with her brisk pace, struggled to keep my breathing shallow to not let her realise how absurdly drained I was after just one flight of stairs. The blood in my head seemed to constrict my brain with pulsing pressure. It hurt.

When we reached the main office belonging to Julia it had gotten a lot busier. The other pilots in the agency were lounging on sagging sofas whilst a few technician flitted around them. I made a move to go sit with them and rest for a while but Julia stopped me with an outstretched arm.

“Go get changed, Ryan. I want you in Prep in five minutes.”

“I thought you said I was on last!” I growled.

“You are. You’re also on first; starting and ending the show,” she smiled, this time with a certain savageness and insincerity. I huffed in irritation. “The crowd loves you and don’t you dare try to kid me into thinking you don’t love being the star, the golden boy, the centre of attention.”

“Sorry, I guess it’s too much to hope for: a relaxed evening to prepare for piloting that new beast,” I sighed.

“Dream on, kid.”

I rolled my eyes and headed towards the door but my way was blocked.

“Poor little Ryan, is mummy making you work for a change?” the man said.

Marcus Heath. We were of a similar age though I was far more experienced having started nearly three years before him. Where I was small and slightly built, he towered over me and felt twice as wide, arms roped in burly muscles and legs like small trees. Most of the other pilots disliked me but only Marcus truly seemed to hate me. He loathed me for reasons I could not specify; perhaps it was jealousy of my adoration or my skill. I didn’t mind; he was large and brash, specialising in bears. He relied too heavily on the strength of his animals over his own skill and I knew that soon he would be tossed out of work like countless others that I had seen pass through.

I slipped past him quickly before he had a chance to react and scuttled from the room scowling. The next door over led to a small changing room with slightly battered lockers lining the wall. At the sight of one particular dent I was reminded of the pain in my skull that came from my head being slammed there after a particularly displeasing fight for my opponent. It had been easier to flee than fight back.

I opened my locker and found my outfit for the night newly washed and neatly hung up. A lot of the other pilots have fancy costumes that match their gimmicks; Julia had originally tried to force me into one until it became obvious that I would not compete properly unless I was comfortable. The clothes were still custom made but simple outfits that rotated throughout the week. I shrugged off my jeans and shirts and stuffed them in the bottom of the locker, pulling out my new clothes. Today’s outfit was one of my favourites; skintight black leggings with my signature blue flame pattern spiraling the lower leg and a loose sleeveless shirt with a ripped effect at the edges also in black. I pulled on the trousers and stood in front of the mirror in the corner of the room fiddling with my hair.

Julia insisted I keep it long to suit my ‘wild’ look but for practicalities sake we compromised on a shaggy style that still irritates at my eyes if I don’t style it. It’s dyed too, my natural near-black bleached white on the top layers so that that the pale and dark strands are mixed and contrasted. I would never have admitted that I thought it looked good even when I spiked it erratically with hair gel like I did then. After perfecting my hair I sighed and grudgingly took out some make-up. The audience could only see my face for a couple of minutes yet Julia still insisted on well above the bare minimum of stage make-up. Luckily, she also made the other pilots wear similar amounts so this was not yet another thing they could insult me with. The foundation made me somehow look paler than usual and the eyeliner was near impossible to apply steadily.

I was still standing in front of the mirror attempting a neat-enough line above my eye when their was a knock on the door quickly followed by the door opening.

“Sir, Ms Lund was just- oh,” interrupted the young technician who had been assigned for me for nearly a year now. He saw what I was doing and stuttered, eyes clearly noting my state of half-dress and cheeks turning spectacularly red. “I’m sorry, sir, I’ll come back when...when you’re-”

“It’s fine,” I assured him, smiling to settle his obvious nerves. The boy was always so skittery around me, as if he was constantly scared of my judgement or approval. I gestured at him with my head to come in . “What did she want?” “Oh, she wanted you to be in Prep already so she sent me to see what was taking so long.”

“I’m not late, am I?” I asked, confident until I glimpsed the clock in the corner of the room. “Oh shit, sorry. It’s this eyeliner, you see.” I gesticulated at my face with the pencil and ended up drawing a black line on my upper nose.

“Do you need some help?” he chuckled tentatively. I nodded, failing to suppress an embarrassed smile as I wiped the mark off with the back of my hand.

He took the pencil and faced me towards him, tilting my head up so he could see better. He instructed me alternately to close and open my eyes as he deftly applied some more marks and neatened the ones I had already made. When my eyes were open I could see him biting his lip in concentration, his big owl’s eyes blinking furiously behind thick-rimmed glasses. He looked proud but not smug when he asked for my approval of his handiwork.

“It’s your fault, you know,” I nudged him, only half joking. His brow furrowed. “Those drugs you fill me with; they’re what make my hands unsteady.”

“Maybe I should up your dosage. I thought I had it calculated perfectly but perhaps…” he trailed off.

He watched quietly whilst I slipped my shirt on and added the accessories; blue and black leather cuffs the cover most of my upper arms, matching coloured bracelets on my wrists and a necklace strung with feline teeth. No shoes because I liked to work in bare feet and it showed off my Julia-approved tattoos that spiraled across my ankles and feet. I would have liked to spend a couple of minutes more on adjusting my hair but I could see the kind-eyed technician fidgeting, clearly anxious to get going.

As we set off down the corridor I realized that despite working with me for nearly a year, I still didn’t know the boy’s name.

Once we reached the small, sterile room labeled ‘Preparation’, I was sat down as usual on the plasticky coated chair. It was like one you might find in a dentist's only upright and the arms were covered in ominous straps. He took my right arm and attached it in position before sliding the leather cuff down my arm, revealing the tattoo there.

It read, in a clean and official font, ‘Insert Needle Here’ below a small cross now riddled with tiny scars. That design and position was definitely not pre-approved of by Julia. She had been furious when she first saw it and was forced to adjust all of my outfits to cover it up, hence the arm-cuffs. I couldn’t understand why she was so angry; it wasn’t as if it wasn’t common knowledge that the pilots are dosed up on chemicals to enhance their ability to fight. I had got the tattoo done soon after this unknown-named technician was appointed because on the first few days he kept failing to find a vein on the first try. Facing Julia’s wrath was worth it to see the boy’s face when I next went into Prep.

He smiled reassuringly as he administered the first injection, accurate to the tattoo’s instruction. He muttered the names of some of the chemicals contained and their properties, as much for himself as for me. “This one is for better connectivity to the devices,” he gestured to the syringed once he’d taken it out, as if I didn’t go through this process daily. Theoretically anyone could be a pilot but without the correct additional chemicals in your system it would be difficult to control, the movements would be slow, jerky and awkward.

“This is to keep you calm,” he continued and I winced slightly as the liquid entered my arm. I used to look away, sickened by the procedure. Now, however, I’d barely feel a thing.

“”And this is for faster reflexes,” he concluded as he administered the final dose. “I think...perhaps this is what is causing the shaking. Your body has become almost dependent on it, requiring a higher dose to last you a full day.”

“Is there anything you can do about it?” I asked as I watched him carefully seal and dispose of the used syringes.

“I’m sure I can figure something out, Sir. Give me time to throw some calculations about and I’ll get back to you for tomorrow.”

“Thanks,” I smiled up at him, heartfelt. I knew that he was paid to work for me, to make me as comfortable and happy as possible, and yet I couldn’t shake the feeling that he was genuinely fond of me. He unstrapped my arm from the chair and I flexed it. I never had been fond of the dull ache that injections cause. I replaced the cuff over the minutely swollen skin.

“Have you still got a headache?”

I nodded. “It’s been on and off for about a month.”

“Did the gel help last time?”

“Yeah, maybe. Well, it can’t hurt to try,” I shrugged.

“Well, actually it could. Say you you were allergic to one of the ingredients then you might go into anaphylactic shock or get at least get a rash. Or if you overuse if you might become desensitised to the ingredient that-” he stopped after seeing my cynical expression. He tried to suppress an embarrassed laugh. “It can’t hurt to try.”

He produced a small vial and moved me to face him, holding my head still. With a finger of the grossly gelatinous substance he rubbed it into my temples. I closed my eyes and relaxed as the coolness of the gel bought minimal relief from the pounding in my temples.

“Is that any better?”

I forced my eyes open, a little annoyed at the interruption of the rhythmic smoothing of the substance into my skin. “It’ll do. Has anyone told you what the specifications for the first fight today are?”

The technician hesitated. “You’ve both got felines. Medium-sized, I think. The opponent is one of Kaplan’s lot but I don’t know who. It shouldn’t be too straining, anyhow.” “How would you know?” I snapped. “You don’t know what it’s like.”

He glared, a moment standing defiant before he caved back to his normal pliant self. “No, you’re right. I don’t.”

I left the room quickly, feeling a little ridiculous that I had gotten so worked up over such a minor comment. Still, I both had too little time and was too stubborn to go back and apologise, instead heading to wait outside what the pilots had dubbed ‘Stage Door’. I leant against the wall with the intention of having a few minutes to myself. Of course that would never happen.

“Ryan, are you fully prepped for the fight?” Julia called as she trotted down the hallway towards me. “You look very flushed; did you put enough foundation on?”

She grabbed my face not roughly and tilted it. I rolled my eyes but let her examine the make-up my technician and I had applied earlier. She grunted in approval before letting go.

“Right, you’ll be piloting a cheetah first thing, the one you used to fight Marcelli’s hunting dog last week? You’re going against Kaplan’s Unbleached Claw.”

“Who?” I asked, trying to stifle a laugh at the ridiculousness of the name.

“Unbleached Claw? I don’t think you’ve fought her before, she’s relatively new. She’s one of those hippie ‘natural’ types who are all into keeping the animals as wild and pure as possible,” Julia dismissed, voice dripping with scorn.

“Sounds like she’s in the wrong business.”

“I agree,” she continued. “Anyway, you’ll be fighting her and her new snow leopard. Should be quite the opening match. Keep it quick, though, because we’ve got a lot of stuff to fit in tonight.”

I almost choked in surprise even though I wasn’t eating anything. “A snow leopard? I thought they were extinct.”

“Near as,” Julia shrugged it off. “Kaplan says some guys sold it to him wild-caught. Got no breeding behind it, no gene mods so it should be an easy win.”

“He sure it’s not just some painted-up jaguar?”

She laughed and waved it away, nudging me through the door and muttering whatever her version of ‘good luck’ was. As soon as the door’s seal broke, sound flooded the corridor. The horrendous clamour of near a thousand voices jabbering away, the clattering of their bodies and throats overlayed by the mechanically loudened announcing from the commentator’s voice. It felt like a physical agony in my head but it had to be done and so I stepped through the door into the Pod.

It was narrow and long, the half at the other end made entirely of glass save for the floor and empty save for a single chair. The half in which I stood was darkened with shadow and so I could hand back unseen by the crowd. Through the glass I could see that it was crowded tonight, the whole arena completely full of soon-to-be-drunk patrons chatting and shouting and arguing, a few of them listening to the night’s proceedings being announced. Above I could see the wealthier sponsors enjoying their fancy drinks in the spacious private booths that gave an excellent top-down view of the arena.

The walls at a level with me were lined with three other pods jutting out towards the centre of the vast room and in the one directly opposite I thought I could see the shape of my opponent hanging back in the dark like me, waiting patiently for the night to begin.

And it begun.

“...honoured to welcome our first pilots. In the East Pod we have....Hellion!”

A thunderous cheer swelled in the arena, a vibration felt deep in my core as I stepped into the light of the glass room. I grinned and gestured for more praise, psyching the crowd up for the fight. This was Hellion, not Ryan, and Hellion was loved for being arrogant and cocksure, not loathed for it. I padded round to in front of the chair, bare feet on the cool floor and once again beat my chest for approval in full view of the crowd.

“Against him in the West Pod we have...Unbleached Claw!”

Another swell of applause, though I noted smugly that it was not as loud or confident as mine, her name being less known or prestigious. My opponent slunk of the dark, a tall woman a little younger than me in a tight top and loose trouser that were a spectrum of pastel shades. Her hair was long and a natural brow that fell in waves to her waist. She smiled sweetly at the crowd but did not beg for their attention as she took her place in front of her own identical chair. She glared at me and tossed her hair back so that I caught a glimpse of the silvered rings adorning her ears, identical to the one through the side of her nose. I licked my lips and pressed my hands to the glass, smirking a little. She looked perhaps and little intimidated but remained firmly stoney-faced.

The announcer was prattling more details to the fight and I was setting up, taking the headset that was sitting on the chair and strapping it to my head. I kept the viso up for now but lowered the headphone speakers over my ears and made sure the entire device was secure, next fitting the controllers dangling for the sides from wires to my hand. They looked like simple black gloves and were lined with tiny sensors and wires, all reporting back to the main headset. I sat down on the chair and glanced up to see my opponent doing the same.

“How’s the crowd tonight?” a voice started up in my ear.

“Loud,” I complained.

It was one of Julia’s subordinates, a man named Odell. Julia often advised the fights herself but with the agency expanding she needed others to take over some of the time. I still felt a little twinge of bitterness that she couldn’t be bothered to help me out herself every time I heard someone else’s voice on the comms. Still, Odell was civil enough not to despise me openly so I didn’t overly mind.

Suddenly the audience’s screeching was gone, replaced with complete silence and the whirring of blood in my head. Everyday I muttered a short prayer to the guy who invented soundproof glass.

“Better?” Odell asked.

“Much appreciated,” I thanked him. “You’ll have to tell me what’s going on though. Can I start yet?”

“The commentator’s just talking about the creatures so I guess you should probably get going, yeah. I think that’s what that Claw girl is doing.”

I looked over to check and he was right, she had already pulled her visor down and was sitting tense in her seat.

“Okay, I’ll get on that then.”

I slid the visor screen down over my eyes, my vision turning to darkness. Not hearing or seeing anything was a little disconcerting but it soon ended as Odell continued in my ear.

“You ready?”

“Of course.”

“Brilliant. Booting up in three...two...one…”

To someone who has never been in two places at once it is near impossible to describe the feeling of opening your second set of eyes, of standing up whilst you remain firmly seated, of yawning whilst your mouth is shut and stretching out your tail. I did all of those things and then looked about me, taking in the holding pen I had been lying asleep in. I could hear the rumbling of the crowd again through the door.

“How are you doing?”

“Seems normal,” I mused, knowing that everything my screen displays was being streamed back to where Odell is advising from. “Response with little to no delay time. Stats say all the vitals are fine, he’s fully recovered from last week.”

“Open the mouth.” I did. “And close.” I did that too. “Looks like we’re good to go. The hatch will open in approximately sixty seconds.”

I paced briefly, stretching my legs and warming the muscles. The wall on one side of the pen was a mirror, smudged and scratched but still clear enough to see my reflection. It would be a strange day when I could look into that mirror and my insides not lurch with surprise to see a creature that was certainly not me staring back. I took a few seconds to preen and admire my appearance.

I never liked piloting cheetahs. They’re too lithe to make proper fighting animals, their speed advantage rendered practically useless in the small confines of the arena. Still, even I had to admit that this particular specimen was impressive; selectively bred for size and muscle he cut an imposing figure. A king cheetah is a colour variant rather than a true subspecies,but still rare enough to make them more desired and more praised by the crowds. I tilted my head and to see the telltale blue flashing light on the metal device there as well as my signature bite-mark cut in his ear.

I should name him, I thought, staring at my reflection. If he survives, that is.

I started a little as the voice returned to my ears. It was always strange being so immersed that it felt like I was hearing the instruction through the animal’s ears rather than my own.

“Get ready, Hellion. Hatch opening in five seconds,” Odell informed me. I turned to face the door, simultaneously listening to the commentator introducing me and Odell counting down. “Four. Three. Two. One.”

I hadn’t realised how dim the holding pen was until the hatch lifted and glaring light split through the opening, causing me to reflexively flinch. A low grinding bass music was playing underneath the crowd noises as I stepped out onto the walkway, timing my steps to each thumping beat and prowling forward. I tossed my head from one side to the other, engaging the crowd. I leapt off the walkway and into the arena neatly, a large entrance and a drop of about half a metre. I heard the cage door slide down in place behind me.

I took a moment to survey my surroundings, having not bothered to check with my human eyes a few minutes earlier. The cage is the same as always; plastic mesh strong enough to withstand a blow from a polar bear but thin enough that it provided easy viewing. They configure the arena itself slightly differently for every fight. This time they had platforms jutting out at various levels, some unattainably out of reach, and one hanging to the centre of the arena maybe three metres in the air. I grumbled slightly at the inequity; cheetahs are terrible climbers. Any attempt by me to attempt to mount one of the higher platforms would lead to certain injury. Perhaps they felt she needed the advantage.

I stalked one circuit around the cage, pausing occasionally scuff my feet or bare my teeth at the crowd, no sound. Cheetahs are sinister enough animals when silent, lean and aggressive. They can’t roar, however, or growl or snort. The noises they produce range from not unlike a baby bird, to not unlike a kitten. Not particularly intimidating to say the least.

As I paced I made eye contact with and observed members of the crowd. A group of drunken men far richer than they looked who cheered when I bared my teeth at them; a couple, arms slung over one another, who looked mildly terrified; a lone man with a handkerchief covering the lower half of his face who made no reaction at all, even when I hissed directly at him.

After circling for the crowd, showing off the cheetah’s beautiful body in slick movements, I turned to the real audience. The camera.

The money made from this kind of sporting came almost entirely from the gambling industry. Whilst the crowd in view were wealthy, and those up on the balconies even richer, it was those sitting in the comfort of their country manors, apartments in city centre and other such opulent dwellings that brought in the real money. Millionaires betting thousands on their lucky favourite, billionaires betting millions on an outside chance and those with more money than someone could spend in a lifetime throwing half a city’s wealth away in one evening. All done through internet payments whilst they lounged on comfy sofas and watched the blood run red on their screens. It was all horrendously illegal, of course, but there was far too much money in it for it to ever be stopped by force.

I stared directly down the lens of the high-quality video camera, curled my lips back to reveal sharp fangs and hissed a little. I turned my head to let the harsh lighting shine off my rich coat and let them observe the layers of muscle underneath. The patrons knew me, of course, but they might not know the animal. I needed to show them this was a creature worth staking their fortunes on.

The commentator announced Unbleached Claw’s entry and I only just turned in time to see the creature hop gracefully down from the walkway. As is courtesy, I held back and simply paced, waiting for her to engage the audience. It was only fair that we both had a turn to win favour before the fighting began and also it gave me a little time to observe her.

The snow leopard herself was truly stunning, although at the same time smaller than expected. The creature was short and stockily built, entire body covered with thick silver-grey fur patterned with large irregular rosettes. Built for far colder temperatures than these. The fur around her head was so dense and fluffy that it entirely concealed the controlling device, adding to the ‘natural’ look that Julia had told me about. The only give-away that this was not a wild beast at all was the thick silver ring pierced through the side of her nose to match the pilot. That and the dead-eyed gaze that all piloted animals had; a vacant look that told of the external control and powerlessness of the body.

I watched as she leapt with ease onto one of the lower platforms, the body of a snow leopard being one built for climbing. My opponent clearly wasn’t one for pandering to the crowd, instead using this time to test out the new surroundings and exercise the vessel’s body. I noted with a certain smugness that her movements were on the whole far less graceful than mine, her comparatively little experience as a pilot making her a little awkward and jerky. Also she seemed to be slipping a little on the platforms as she jumped from one to another, suggesting they were perhaps not as much of an advantage as I had initially assumed.

Once she had scouted out the upper levels, she jumped deftly to the floor and faced me. I stood opposite her on my side of the arena and nodded. The fight was beginning.

“You’re ready?” Odell asked for confirmation.

“Let’s get on with it.”

She chuffed at me and I bared my teeth. The fight had begun.

I spent only a few moments pacing before making the first strike, reminded of Julia’s words from earlier. Keep it quick. Using the cheetah’s ability to powerfully spring, I launched myself straight at the snow leopard, claws aiming at her head. She was quick enough to raise a paw to protect her face but not quick enough to dodge. I skittered to the side having gouged a deep mark on one of her front legs and a lesser scratch to her domed brow.

She tried a similar attack on me, a simple lunging leap. Her animal, however, was slower and gave me time to avoid the pounce entirely. She skidded past me and allowed me to twist and ram her against the cage wall. This exposed her belly which I proceeded to bite at, ripping deep as she squirmed to get away.

I saw this all through a screen on my visor, of course. These movements weren’t controlled by my muscles but by highly advanced electronics tracking the activity of my brain as well as subtle movements in my hands. And yet even without the pain or pressure feedback expected it still felt so real, so immediate. These claws were my own.

I let her go, failing to do any crucial damage at this angle and also realising that it was visually rather boring to keep her in one place. Anything to please the crowd. She sprung free and sooner than I could turn to follow her movements she sunk her teeth into my left haunch, using the wider jaw and longer teeth of a snow leopard to her advantage. Clearing away as quickly as I could, I hissed at her from a safe distance, irritated.

“Why the hell did you let her go?” Odell whined in his ear.

“It was a mistake,” I assured him. “What’s the damage like?”

It would take too much effort for me to read the blinking read text at the bottom of the screen that detailed injuries. I was far too busy fending off and delivering strikes with my foe, a rapid pace of scratching and hitting and gnashing.

“Minimal. No major blood supplies hit, muscles that were damaged are still functional. You’ll be fine, just be more careful next time.”

“Yes, sir,” I breathed sarcastically as I deftly avoided another blow to my side.

My eye caught on the shining of the metal hoop through the snow leopard’s nose. I pondered for a second, calculating the risk before deciding to go with my instinct, however sickening it is.

I lunged forward head first in an unnatural movement, bracing my claws against her shoulder and bending to hook one long tooth through the ring and shut my mouth. I distantly registered the crowd cheering as I began to drag the other creature by its nose whilst she struggled helplessly and lashed at my face. Now I had her caught I aimed my claws at her face, intending to inflict damage to her eyes or sensory organs. It was always an easy win to blind your opponent so that they could barely fight back.

I only managed one slash across her face before there was a great tugging and I was shocked to see her pull away from me. She had wrenched away so hard that it had ripped the ring out of the side of her nose, now gushing red. The snow leopard was whimpering presumably not under the pilot’s command, the animal inside crying out in pain through the layers of controls. She looked even more unsteady on her feet as she bounded away and onto an above platform, safe from further harm.

I spat out the ring and played with it in my claws whilst the crowd cheered me on. The piercing was her gimmick, similar to the way my animals have their ears cut, to make her more memorable. Hers could be used against her, however, whilst mine was entirely harmless. I was reminded briefly of a pilot I once knew when I was first starting out who used to collar all his animals like pets. It was cute, sure, until I hooked my paws under it and used the collar to crush the wolf’s windpipe. It was a lesson poorly learned, however, and many have followed him in the pursuit of individuality.

The snow leopard was not running scared as I thought she might. Instead, she began stalking me from above, glaring down as she paced from one platform to another. It was unnerving because she looked like she was going to strike at any moment and I hated that she had this height advantage over me.

I looked up defiantly and chirped at her, the trill noise hoping to taunt her into action. It didn’t work and she continued circuiting above me, occasionally pausing to growl.

“What’s going on? Why isn’t she attacking?” Odell asked.

“The animal is in pain which makes it very difficult to pilot,” I stated, trying not to lose focus. “She’s trying to get the vessel back under control.”

“Can’t you go get her? Attack while she’s weak?”

“I’m in a cheetah, Odell. This animal is not meant for climbing; I’d likely end up more injured than she is,” I snapped, working off my irritation.

Which meant I wasn’t fully focussed a second later when the snow leopard leapt from the high platform.

She landed with full force on my back half and suddenly my screen was flashing an array of red as I fought her off. She had landed roughly and that had affected her too, enough for me to catch a claw on her eye before she could retreat back up high. I saw blood splattered on the concrete beneath me and could tell my animal was buckling unevenly as I tried to stand.

“Damage report!” I half-shouted.

“Left femur is splintered, hairline fracture to the pelvis, one of the lower ribs is cracked and three more suffering severe bruising. Internals seem fine, no major arteries hit but still serious damage to muscles nearing the hind legs,” Odell listed as I began an uneven pacing to assess the maneuverability of the broken body. “Sorry, Hellion. I don’t think you can win this one.”

“I can,” I hissed. “I can and I’m going to. She’s running half-blind now, it’s only so long until she make a mistake.”

The snow leopard was visibly struggling to traverse the platforms; her right eye was swollen shut and oozing blood and her paws were slipping, slick with blood. Her face was somewhat mangled with the addition of half the nose being ripped away causing the red to flow openly and soak the dense fur. She was, however, in better shape than my cheetah with all her limbs unbroken and only minor external injuries. She was chuffing loudly at me now and the audience were cheering, chanting for her to finish me off. She leapt around the outer ledges and then to the hanging platform in the middle.

She missed.

A combination of her newfound arrogance and the blood on her paws meant caused her to slip whilst jumping. She only landed half on the platform and scrabbled desperately with her paws, claws extended in a panicked attempt to reach safety. Her hind legs and long tail were flailing, suspended in the air at the centre on the arena. My opportunity had arisen so quickly.

I dragged her down from her hanging position so fast and brutally that I heard her skull crack against the hard concrete. She still tried to bat me off but the resistance was weak, head and spine irreparably damaged by the fall. I leant down and she tried to snap at my head with the little strength left. I pushed her aside with one paw, holding her head back to gain full access to her exposed neck.

Such an amazing creature, a snow leopard. Near extinct, and effortlessly beautiful.

I bit out her throat.

The roar of the crowd was like a jet engine as it echoed around the arena, the great swell of noise amplified across every available surface. The body of the animal beneath me was still writhing even as her life was spewing in bursts through the torn flesh of her neck. I stood proud and accepted the applause of the crowd, front legs propped up on the snow leopard’s ribcage. I turned directly to the camera and once again bared my teeth, now red and dripping. I stayed there as the body twitched a little and blood gurgled out of its mouth, heart finally finished with beating.

“Well done,” Odell praised him. “That was nicely played. But we are on a tight schedule so…”

“I understand.”

I tried not to limp too much as I abandoned the body in the centre of the arena and exited the same way I got in. The hop up to the walkway was challenging and I had to take two attempts to scramble on properly.

“Hey, Odell?” I asked and he grunted in response. “Do you reckon they’ll kill him?”

“Your cheetah? No, the damage is repairable. He won’t be able to fight for a week or two but I’m pretty sure the patrons will want to see him back. Why do you ask?”

I hesitated, pausing over whether to admit my slight attachment to the animal, a tiny twinge of sentimentality. Weakness.

“No reason, just curious.” Once inside the holding pen I lay down in the corner, considerate as possible of the broken leg and other wounds, and closed the cheetah’s eyes. “Unhook me.”

“Sure thing,” he affirmed. “Shutting down in three. Two. One.”

The engine-roar of the crowd silenced in an instant and everything was black. I enjoyed the peace for a moment before lifting the visor of the headgear and unstrapping the controllers. I stretched, my human muscles feeling stiff and awkward. I could have felt them the whole time I was piloting but I was concentrating hard enough for my brain to block most of my real body’s senses. I carefully place the headset on the chair and turn back to the audience.

They were clearly cheering wildly, excited by the first bloodshed of the night, although I couldn't hear them through the soundproof glass. I pounded my fists against the transparent barrier and grinned, egging on further praise. I could see the cameras down below and above, some carried by people, others operated on suspended wires, most pointed at me whilst a few lingered on the mutilated corpse of the former snow leopard. I noted smugly that my opponent had already left, presumably enraged at her failure.

I didn’t wait for the cheering to die down before making my own exit, preferring to leave on a high with applause still filling the arena. As soon as I turned away it didn’t matter anyway as I couldn’t hear them in my sealed little Pod. I slunk off into the darkness and out the door.

There was no one waiting in the corridor to congratulate me. There never was. Instead I just glanced at the clock and worked out roughly how much time I had until my next fight, walking down the corridor to Julia’s main office. I was drained after that fight and, although I had only woken up a few hours earlier, I really needed to rest before my next fight. I looked longingly through the door of the main office at the comfy sofas, imagining curling up on the plush seats and sleeping soundly. That could not be a reality, however, not with Marcus and the other disdainful pilots littered across them or the bustle of the room. I considered going in to speak to Julia but she looked busy and I had very little to say to her.

I left, legs heavy, to try and find somewhere else to nap. It always felt as if my blood was saturated with grains of metal after a fight, weighing me down and making each movement sluggish and dull. I normally went straight home when I only had one fight and slept until my alarm woke me up the next evening. When I had two fights, which was happening with increasing frequency as Julia seemed to want to work me harder each passing day, there was little I could do to stay awake for the time in between.

After peering through several doors into rooms sterile and deserted or humming with people I found one further along the corridor that was labeled ‘Server Room’. I searched through my slightly fuzzy memory to see if I had any recollection of if I had been in here before and found nothing. The room wasn’t locked and so I slipped inside.

The room was small, made more compact by huge machinery against each wall that whirred and hummed quietly considering its bulk. It was dimmer than the corridor outside and lit with a flickering orange glow. Wires like hair follicles sprouted out in places to curl away behind other metal cubes whilst some parts were an array of blinking lights, red and green. It was much colder that the rest of the building, almost uncomfortably so, due to the steady breeze blowing through grates on the ceiling. The floor was cool and metallic when I ran my fingers over it, slumping down into a corner of coiled wiring, presumably spare as it did not seem to be attached to anything. It was chilly and solid but the nest of wires allowed me to tuck together and in moments I was unconscious.

As always, the sleep was heavy and consuming. No dreams, no thoughts at all until I was awoken by the door slamming open, a sound which resonated through the metal of the floor as physical vibration. My eyes snapped open and I saw a huge figure silhouetted in the doorway. I flinched as it stepped forward, only to lean back out the door and shout down the corridor. “Julia, I’ve found the runt you were looking for!”

I knew the voice and as my eyes focussed I could tell it was Marcus who had interrupted my doze. I growled, irritated at the use of the word ‘runt’ but otherwise I made no reaction. A woman’s voice shouted something indiscernible and Marcus entered the room and stepped towards me again. I tensed and backed up against the wall, noticing for the first time that someone had tucked a blanket around me whilst I was asleep, an act of kindness vaguely unsettling in its intimacy. I chose to ignore it for now, with more pressing matters to hand.

“What are you doing?” I practically squeaked as he came closer. He just rolled his eyes and grunted, dragging me up by my collar and shoving me into the corridor. With a firm, unfriendly hand on my shoulder he guided me down the hall in silence until we reached where Julia was fidgeting impatiently. Marcus pushed me roughly from the small of my back so I stumbled embarrassingly.

“Ryan! You are due in your pod in less than ten minutes. What the hell were you doing?”

“I-”

“I found him sleeping in the Server Room, all curled up like a baby animal,” Marcus spat and with fake concern added, “Julia, I’m not sure he’s alright in the head. I think maybe piloting from such a young age has turned his brain mushy.”

“That will be all, Marcus,” she dismissed coldly. He slunk away, grumbling and muttering under his breath. “I’m not happy with you, Ryan, but I don’t have time to complain. Quickly fix your hair and get checked over by your technician and be outside stagedoor in five minutes sharp.”

I nodded and jogged off to the changing room. It was again empty, allowing me to relax a little as I fished the jar of hair product from the tangle of clothes in my locker and haphazardly spiked the side the had been flattened from where it was resting on my arm. My makeup too was a little smudged and so i fixed that with a licked finger until both eyes looked roughly even. No time to hesitate I quickly left the room in search of my owly technician but he was already waiting outside the door.

“How are you doing, Sir?” he asked as he began poking at my sides, lifting my arms and clicking in from of my eyes.

“Less tired than I was.” “Yes, I heard you were having a nap,” he smiled at me, a hint of colour on his cheeks. “You look fine physically. How’s the head?”

“Better,” I said, although it wasn’t much.

We walked in companionable quiet to where the stagedoor was and he picked up my headset that was left there ready for the fight. He picked it up and adjusted a few things on the side, only occasionally glancing up at me, focussed on whatever he was doing. He handed me the headset.

“This should help,” he stuttered a little and smiled sheepishly. “I-I’ve adjusted some of the fitting so that it puts less pressure on sensitive parts of the skull, particularly around the ears.”

I nodded and looked cynical. “Go put this on the chair; I’m doing my entrance in about two minutes.”

“Certainly, Sir,” he complied and slipped through the door. I could see his face fall at the dismissal but I pretended not to notice, uncaring. He was back in a matter of seconds, eyes still bright and kind despite my brashness with him. It was somehow infuriating. “Haven’t you got something else to be getting on with?” I snapped.

“I guess so,” he hesitated. “If you’re sure that you are fine, that is.”

“Yes. I am.”

“Oh, okay.” He scurried down the corridor and out of sight and I sighed in the brief moment of quiet, dim audience sounds through the door. In my haste to be rid of the young technician I had forgotten to ask him any details about the fight but I was sure I could successfully manage it knowing just the basics.

I once again lurked in the dark back of the Pod when I first entered, just as the announcer began to introduce my opponent. I liked going second better but it it did little to take the edge off my dark mood. Perhaps it was being so abruptly woken or perhaps I was just nervous about the new beast. First time with a new creature always has potential to be tricky.

“For our final fight of the evening, in the West Pod we have Rex Terrae!”

Even my current resentment for seemingly everything could not stop me from grinning then. Rex had been piloting for almost as long as me, signing on with his agent Hauxwell a few moments after I contracted to Julia. I definitely wouldn’t call him a friend but we were fairly amicable, having sparred our animals frequently over the last five years. He would always greet me kindly and embrace me with intimidatingly affectionate bear-hugs. Whilst Julia and her agency were stationed permanently at this arena, many contractors like Hauxwell have taken to touring the smaller fighting rings across the world and so I haven’t seen Rex in a while.

He caught my eye during his entrance and smiled warmly at me, still waving to the crowd. He was very much into costuming, his Roman styling not overdone but obvious and effortlessly cool. It suited his name and his chosen creatures; all very traditional colosseum type animals.

“...Hellion!”

The roar of the crowd was notably louder than it had been at the beginning of the night, both from an increase in spectators and a brief popularity boost from the win of a good fight. I soaked it in and wallowed in it, cheering and encouraging them when a small group started chanting my name.

“Hello?” I asked into the microphone once I had sat down and set up the headgear and controllers. I noticed that the technician had marginally improved the comfort of the headset and felt a pang of guilt that soon eased.

“Hellion, at last you’ve decided to join us!” a voice replied with a thick Eastern accent.

“Rex? What are you doing on my comms?”

“He’s here to work with you,” Julia’s voice interrupted. “This is not going to be a fight per se, more of a showcase of the tileguaress and her talents. It will be obvious from the very beginning that Rex’s lion has no chance but you must let him fight back a little to show some skill before you finish him off.”

This sort of thing was rare, although not unheard of. Hauxwell and Julia often work together and seem friendly so it seems reasonable that they made some kind of deal together. No doubt Julia will pay for the expenses of the soon to be dead lion.

“But surely no one would bet against me?” I puzzled. Rex scoffed at how arrogant it sounded even though he understood what I meant.

“They haven’t if they have any sense; this is just to introduce her to the audience. Make a loss now to insure future gain.”

“And Rex is okay with this?”

“I get handsomely paid from it,” he affirmed and I could just imagine his wonky grin. “It seems to me I have to do less work than usual so I am not bothered.”

I chuckled, as ever amused by Rex’s nonchalance.

“Alright, kids, visors down,” Julia interrupted. I could understand to some extent her calling me ‘kid’ as she had known me since age seventeen and my looks haven't matured much since then but Rex every bit the late-twenties working man that he did. Still, it was better than ‘runt’.

I did as instructed and was mildly alarmed when the crowd noises that had been grounding me were cut off a few moments later, leaving me feeling suspended in the confined darkness. It only lasted a few seconds before the screen booted up, startling me.

“Julia, you’re supposed to count us in,” I grumbled, slowly orientating to living in a new head.

“We had already wasted enough time talking, it seemed stupid to spend any more,” she snapped back. “Rex, you’re used to this lion right?”

“I have used him a few times before, yes,” Rex confirmed and then, because he clearly didn’t understand Julia’s hint about time wasted chatting, added, “It seems such a shame to let him die, if I’m honest. He’s a noble beast; strong and-” “I’m opening your hatch. Go stir up the crowd a bit while Ryan gets himself in the zone.”

“Yessir,” he breathed grumpily and presumably did as instructed. His voice had that distracted tone common with all pilots during a fight; like they’re not really there at all, distant and struggling to keep under the mental pressure.

“How is she?” Julia asked me.

I didn’t know the answer, having only opened my eyes, and so I began to stand. It took a moment to wield the limbs correctly, the movement at first being uneven and heavy, and I faltered a couple of times in standing. “It feels like…” I answered. “Like she doesn’t want me in her head.”

The moment I said the words I knew them to be true; the feeling of pressure inside my skull, the way I had to fight for each movement. The only explanation was that the animal herself was attempting to reject me.

“Stop being so dramatic, Ryan. You have a maximum of three minutes to get her under control before showtime.”

“Fine,” I hissed through gritted teeth.

Julia explained her big plan for a dramatic entrance whilst I half-listened and began pacing back and forth. The resistance in the animal seemed to be softening with time and before a minute had passed the movement felt almost natural, despite the ever presence of pressure inside my head. I couldn’t help grinning when I saw my reflection, the animal herself looking so much bigger and fiercer when upright and active as opposed to slumped dully in a corner. I unsheathed her claws and saw they were long and recently filed sharp, protruding from her overrsized tiger-paws. Her teeth when I opened her mouth were gleaming white fangs, contrast to the black of her fur and her eyes were the same goat-yellow that I had seen earlier. The muscles knotted across her body visibly rippled as I moved back and forth, tail swishing out randomly. I growled a little to test out her vocals but didn’t want to fully roar in case the audience could hear it over their cheering for Rex’s lion that was presumably already in the arena.

Fully prepared now, I spent the remaining minute staring intently at my reflection and running a claw along the metal casing of the device attached to the creature’s head. My real stomach began to twist a little with neves; the fight would be easy, I knew, but I had to do it perfectly, I had to make them love her.

No you don’t, idiot. Just let the beast speak for herself.

“Okay, kid, the hatch is opening in three seconds. Get ready and do exactly as I explained.”

I positioned myself as instructed facing the hatch and well back from the entrance as it opened. No light streamed through the gap, the audience bathed in darkness with only the dim glow of the holding pen to silhouette my figure as I very slowly approached the entrance. They hadn’t seen me yet and already the crowd were screaming wildly. I imagined how it would look to the cameras; the dark shape against the dark backdrop with only faint light to outline my stalking forward, eyes bright against my body and staring straight ahead. I stepped slowly, each pace measured and taking my time until my head was just out of the hatch and the audience quietened.

Suddenly I jumped forward, still in the dark, sprinting down the walkway only visible as a swift shadow. Seconds later I reached the cage and leapt down into it, lighting flashing on like the prelude to thunder.

And thunder it did as I opened my mouth and roared, showing all my glorious teeth. It was more the roar of a tiger than a lion; deep and guttural, explosive from the animal’s throat. The audience erupted into cheering as I stood proud only a moment before advancing toward the seemingly small lion before me.

I launched myself at him, knocking his body sideways against the concrete, claws piercing along his ribcage.

“Easy there, Hellion,” Rex complained in my ear. “We want this fight to last more than ten seconds.”

“Sorry,” I smirked, not meaning it a bit.

I did get off him though, allowing the creature the opportunity to stand up before I confronted him again with a series of sharp edged blows to the head and forelegs. The lion was roaring in response and striking out sporadically but they were easily brushed aside. Wearing him down was not taking very long and with occasional advice from Julia, Rex’s beast was soon pockmarked with bites and deep gashes, blood spilling freely onto the floor of the arena. The crowd were going crazy.

Whilst going in for another bite, Rex raised his paw and slashed across my face. Nothing was damaged, just a superficial wound to the cheek but even so I hisses and turned away. We began circling the cage, stalking each other carefully and I could see that Rex was already limping. An easy fight if ever there was one.

I roared again, this time at the crowd rather than my opponent. I looked over them as I circled, growling for their approval and showing off my creature’s impressive size and form. I caught eyes with the man I had seen earlier, the one with the covered face who made no reaction when I hissed at him. This time I could roar and I did so directly at him; he had the decency to flinch away and I thought I could see fear or at least awe in his visible eyes.

Distracted, Rex used this opportunity to charge at me from behind, leaping up and digging his claws into my back. I hit him away with some effort and he scampered back the the other side of the cage.

“Hey, that was hardly fair,” I complained at him.

“This whole fight isn’t fair. I needed to as least get one good attack in before you maul this poor lion to pieces.”

“Speaking of which,” Julia piped in. “I think it’s time we go in for the kill, hm?”

I frowned inside my visor. “We’ve only been fighting for five minutes,” I protested and heard Rex grunt in agreement.

“If we get this over with quickly it will reduce the damage caused to the tileguaress and it will leave the audience desperate to see more.”

Rex and I begrudgingly agreed that it was a good idea.

I turned to face him at least, and we squared off from opposite sides of the cage. The lion himself was not a bad specimen at all; larger than average with a thick dark mane running down to his belly and powerful limbs. Now, of course it was a patchwork of gashed and bitemarks, the tan fur matted with barely dried blood. One of the front legs was mangled badly enough to become almost useless.

I roared, he roared in response and then we leapt at each other. It was a colossal collision, the two great beasts wielding claws and teeth on hind legs in the hope of gaining a height advantage. A red display told me that I’d fractured a rib but it was hardly relevant as I toppled the other beast and landed on him with enough force to shatter half of his ribcage. The battle was over now; the lion could no longer stand, only wheeze on his side as the blood drained away.

I growled and stalked a circle round the heaving body, deciding which way to finish him off. I was struggling to recall the exact anatomy of a lion and with a further few deep wounds had yet to locate a major blood vessel that would end the creature’s life quickly. The blood was already sticking my paws to the concrete but the lion still lived, grunting with each of my poorly aimed blows.

At last I managed to pierce an artery in at the juncture of the hind leg and the body, causing whatever blood remained spray forcefully across the concrete, including over my body and face. I shook it off and snorted to clear my nose of it, blinked it out of my eyes as the body stilled and bloodflow turned to a trickle rather than a steam. I stood defiantly with one paw resting on the head of the dead creature and roared for a final time as the crowd screamed all about me.

“Exit now, Ryan. I want them desperate for more,” Julia commanded.

I left numbly, one foot in front of the other until I was in the holding pen, practically unscathed. My vision went black.

But the headset had not been disconnected. It was my eyes that were not seeing anything as the screen still displayed the small concrete room. I only saw black and the pain in my head returned in full twice over and there were screams in my ears that I couldn’t hear over my pounding heartbeat. Someone was shouting my name and something was clawing at the inside of my skull and somewhere my body was frozen still but I couldn’t feel it. Somehow I was still breathing even as my lungs burned and my nose was blocked and my mouth was gasping.

The screen turned off and I registered this as a different kind of black. Some of the pressure released from my brain, enough so that I could make a weak noise at the back of my throat, a cry for help. I could feel my body again, although still distant and dull. I wanted to rip off the headset that was pressing in on my head, threatening to crack it like an eggshell at any moment. I wanted to pull away my visor in the hopes of seeing something besides the swirling patterns of dark in the backs of my eyes.

As if in answer to my desires I felt hands frantically grabbing at my head and, however unwelcome their touch was, they released the headset and I could see again. Only visually though because what I was seeing didn’t seem to connect with my thoughts and at last my eyes rolled back into unconsciousness.

When I awoke in what felt like moments later I was lying down on the dentist-like chair in the Prep room. My technician was standing above me, brow furrowed with concern and owly eyes wide as he blinked down at me. He was dabbing some cotton below my nose and each time he took it away I could see it stained with a fresh spread of blood. I forced open my eyes to regard him properly and opened my mouth to ask a question.

“What-”

“What the hell just happened to him?” Julia screeched as she burst into the room. I winced and leaned back, eyes fluttering shut.

“I-I don’t know, ma’am,” he stuttered, still using one hand to wipe at the red leaking from my nose. “He sort of blacked out and his n-n-nose started bleeding and-”

Julia slapped the technician with the back of her hand, the crack of hard fingers colliding with soft cheek loud in the small room. He reeled back, looking more ashamed than frightened or angry as it would have made me.

“You are an incompetent child!” she snapped. “You are in charge of his medical and technical needs, no? It is your job to make sure things like this do not happen, correct?”

“Yes, ma’am, but-” he hesitated when she glared blades into him and lowered his tone to a more defensive stance. “You did not let me examine the creature before he linked with it and so there was no way I could have predicted how his body would react. I’ve never seen such a violent rejection of the technology before.”

“Do you know the cause?”

“No. It could be he is overworked and the strain of the two fights today or maybe there’s something about the new animal that is incompatible with him...either way he needs a few days break and I need access to the tileguaress to see if I can help.”

I listened to them talk about me without interjection, mind still mixed up and confused as to what just happened. Julia ground her teeth in irritation.

“Fine; you can go see the creature in your own time, not during work hours. Ryan goes home now and can rest all he want but I need him back here on time in the evening. I already have him booked for two fights tomorrow and I can’t reschedule.”

“You can’t!” the technician blurted. “You can’t make him fight tomorrow, let alone twice. Look at him, he’s exhausted.”

I might’ve objected to this, claiming stubbornly that I was perfectly healthy, if he hadn’t ran his hand through my hair, that small soothing touch being almost enough to send me back to sleep.

“You do not get to decide when he fights,” Julia hissed.

“No, but I have to deal with the consequences.”

“Get out!” Julia snapped and pointed to the door. “I need to talk to Ryan alone and I’ve had enough of your insolence. He rests when I tell him he can, not before.”

The technician’s eyes linger on me a moment longer before narrowing as he stormed out of the room. My head lolled back as I sighed, wiping at the remaining blood on my nose with the back of my hand. Julia looked at me sternly and with a hint of pity.

“What do you want?” I groaned, the first full sentence I have managed since waking up.

“That fight was good. Short. It shouldn’t made you…” She gestured loosely at me.

“It did, though.”

“That boy is wrong, you know. He thinks you’re weak; you’re not. You can fight better and harder than anyone I’ve ever met,” she said softly. Her hyperbolous praise was beginning to concern me slightly. “You should see the crowd, Ryan, they love you. And I’m sorry it’s hurting you but if we hesitate for even a moment then they’ll lose interest so we have to keep going. I promise that we’ll make enough money so that after this you’ll never have to work again, okay?”

I nodded and sat up on the chair. “I’m not going to quit just because I got a nosebleed,” I smirked although I knew it was much more than that.

The corners of her mouth tugged into a small smile. “Good. You’ll be piloting the tileguaress again tomorrow; you can handle than, right?”

I glanced at the door, wondering if my technician was still waiting outside. He doesn’t think so. “Sure,” I replied.

“Go home now, Ryan, get some sleep,” she instructed, hand patting his shoulder as she turned to leave. “And when you get back here I want you to have named that creature.”

I agreed and left the room a short way behind her. I half-expected my loyal technician to be waiting in the corridor or perhaps Rex come to check I was alright. Instead, I found only warm, still air and a stifling urge to escape. I stumbled along the corridor to the changing rooms and dressed myself as fast as I could with fumbling fingers. I didn’t bother wiping away the eyeliner that had smudged long before, leaving the skin around my eyes streaked with grey and black. It didn’t matter; no one I cared about would see me.

I pulled my hood down to shade my face as I left the building because I knew there would still be some patrons lingering in the courtyard in the early morning light. I did not wish to grab their attention and they would certainly recognise me after today’s fights. As I paced quickly to the bus stop I saw a figure peel away from the deep shadow of a neighbouring industrial building. Whoever it was was far behind me, walking slow and I had no logical reason for the paranoia of being watched. I felt it all the same.

When I reached the road and leant against the broken plastic of the shelter I noticed the sleeping form of a young woman slumped in the corner, huddled in a ragged blanket and no shoes. I stood listening to her shaky breathing and waited for the bus, failing to resist the urge to see if the figure was still following me. I kept checking and every time could see nothing; only the concrete and brick of this industrial site, the weeds growing taller than people between cracked paving and glimpses of quick rats or thick pigeons all bathed in the dull brown of the morning.

The bus arrived on time. It was a older model than the one I had taken to work and it creaked as it came to a stop. The inside was predictably filthy so I chose the seat that I saw had the least visible signs of decay, the least oppressive odour being near the front. I was the only person at my stop so I expected the doors to shut right away instead of lingering open as they did. I thought perhaps that they were broken until a figure stepped through the door, said good morning to the bus driver and walked down the aisle past me, sitting down a few rows behind.

It was the young man I had spotted in the crowd earlier, the one I had roared at who wore a bandana over his face. Glaring at him as he walked by I was sure he had been the shadowy figure past the courtyard.

He’s not following you. You’re seeing things that aren’t there.

I tried to listen to music on the journey home but each song was too whiny and repetitive and made me want to scream. I kept the earphones in and listened to groans of protest the body of the bus made as it meandered its way through the street. My neck kept twitching to turn round and see if the guy was looking at me and each stop I waited tensely, hoping helplessly that he would get off the bus.

He didn’t. Or at least, not until just after I did.

I could hear his footsteps a few metres behind me, slower than mine for his longer legs. He was keeping my pace, keeping the same gap between us and keeping up with me no matter if I walked so fast it was practically a jog. The streets around were empty of activity and the shadows were still deep and ominous.

He could kill you. No one would even notice. I shoved the thoughts to the back of my mind but they kept resurfacing with every steady footstep on the path behind me.

The shop I had bought breakfast in yesterday was still open and so I took my chance to slip in there, meaning at least I could confront the stranger in the light. The same man from earlier was behind the counter, narrowing his eyes like earlier but more with tiredness than suspicion. What a boring job this would be, I thought. Every night the a scraggly few customers and the rest of the time silence. When I retire, this is the job for me.

I walked over to the barely cooled drinks cabinet and ran my finger over the bottles, pausing for a while over the beer, then cider, then some sort of cocktail thing. I sighed and grabbed a fizzy soft drink, surprisingly upmarket for this shop with a proper glass bottle. I kept glancing at the door, even as I was paying for it, and the stranger did not enter. I was too cynically minded to even think for a second that he had left me alone, knowing full well he would be lurking around some corner on the last few streets home.

Twisting the cap off the drink, I poured the oversweet liquid down my throat, not previously realising the full extent off my thirst. I left the shop hurriedly and continued my walk-skip-jog back home. I could hear him behind me, this time at a much greater distance. I wondered if he thought he was being subtle. I considered taking a wrong turning so that I wouldn’t lead him back to my house but there seemed to be little point as I’d have nowhere else to go and I knew he’d keep following.

I took one final swig of the drink, draining the remaining few drops into my mouth before holding the bottle tightly by the neck and slamming the base into the sharp concrete corner of a building. As I had hoped, the bottom of the glass shattered leaving sharp uneven spikes that glittered deadly in the early morning light. Although certainly not the perfect weapon, it might have served to make up for some of my lack of size and man-to-man fighting experience. I pivoted on my heels to face the man, now only a couple of metres behind, and raised the jagged weapon in his direction.

“Leave me alone!” I shouted because I needed to say something. My voice came out shriller than I intended and sounded painfully loud on the silent street.

“Calm down, kitten,” he replied, raising his arms in a display of innocence. His voice was infuriatingly patronising but also slow and slightly slurred. His movements too had a vaguely disconnected quality and his eyes appeared glazed over. Definitely drunk then. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Then why are you following me?” I hissed, still gripping the broken bottle.

“I just wanted to talk, that’s all.”

I glared at him. He was taller than me by at least a head, broad shouldered and muscles scarily bulging underneath his plain t-shirt. He was wearing that cloth around the lower part of his face and head; if anyone saw him kill me, he’d never get recognised. It was a clever move.

“Who are you?” I asked, against any common sense. Fear is powerful.

It felt to me like he smirked under his mask but his eyes betrayed no hint of emotion. “Guess.”

“What?” I blurted.

“Come on, you’re a clever guy, right? So guess who I am.” His tone was surprisingly measured for how slurred and fuzzy his voice was.

I hesitated before eventually conceding to play along. “You’re a patron,” I mused. “You got drunk and bet a lot of money on one of my opponents, probably the snow leopard, and are now out for some revenge.”

“No.” There was no hint as to how close I was.

“You think I’m clever. You want me to throw a match and win you a lot of money in exchange for some in return.” People had offered me small fortunes to throw matches in the past but I’d never accepted their offers. I already had enough money.

“No.”

“You’re a crazed fan who followed me to my home looking for a chance to meet me.”

“In your dreams, kitten.” “What, then?” I snapped. “I don’t have a clue who you are.”

“My turn,” he stated. “Your name is Ryan Benton. You come from a family of four on the West side of the city, upper-middle class but you disguise your accent to fit in. You’ve been working as a pilot since the age of seventeen so it’s just gone your fifth anniversary of fighting in the cage. You specialise in felines even though Julia Lund always thought that your tactics were better suited to canines. She’s never told you that.”

I snorted at how ridiculous the idea was before frowning. It wasn’t true, was it?

“You live alone on this run-down estate yet you always insist on payments in cash; not the wisest move. It does however suggest that you want to leave this place but you haven’t yet decided where to go. You have no friends.”

At this, my mind flashed to the scitterish technician with the kind brown eyes. I quickly dismissed the idea. You don’t even know his name, he’s not your friend.

“So you’re a stalker, then?” I asked, trying to ease away the fear that had locked all my muscles.

“I do my research,” he shrugged. “But there’s one thing I still don’t understand; you have all the money you could ever need, you hate your job despite what you have people believe and you have no attachments here. Why don’t you just...leave?”

“Is that really what you came here to ask me?” I spluttered, laughing horsely. He barely blinked, face for what I could tell still stoney serious. I raised a brow at him. “Where would I got to? I’ve got nowhere else to be.”

“I’m sure you could find some place, kitten.”

“Why, though? I’m…” I couldn’t bring myself to say happy. “...fine here.”

“Of course you are,” the unsettling man said without the slightest hint of sincerity. “You are the best at what you do, right? Don’t be modest with me, Ryan.”

I nodded. “People have told me that.”

“And does it never bother you that someone else might like their turn in the sun? Someday one of your come knocking on your door with a loaded gun and all your enhanced reflexes couldn’t stop a bullet being buried in your skull.” He glanced down to where my makeshift weapon was limp in my grasp. “I don’t think a broken bottle will help you then.” “Are you threatening me?” I asked and he turned to leave, walking down the road away from me. “Who the hell even are you?”

He stopped his walk suddenly, jerking to a halt about five metres away with his body still paused mid-stride. “I’m a pilot like you. We’re going to fight later today so I thought I’d gather a bit more data, see if I can find a weak point.” He was still facing away, although no longer moving. I was still firmly rooted in my stance on the pavement.

“I haven’t seen you before,” I called after him, against any rational thought. I should have just let him leave but I kept talking.

“I’m new.” He took a step before I stopped him by talking again.

“Did you get what you came here for?” My voice was wavering and high. Scared. “Do you think you can beat me?”

He turned his head over his shoulder to look me in the eye, his obviously drunken gaze holding mine surprisingly steadily. “Oh, kitten. I’m going to destroy you.”

He continued walking and my fear urged me to not let him leave, to not let him have the final word. “We’ll have to find out,” I said offhandedly, trying to act arrogant like Hellion would. “See you tonight.”

“I look forward to it.”

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theonlyfa · 7 years

Text

The Night of the Unliving Wendy

Wrote this as a request on FF and figured I may as well share it with everyone here too since it’s been awhile.

FF.net version: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12356785/1/The-Night-of-The-Unliving-Wendy

The Night of the Unliving Wendy

A fly was buzzing. Buzzing around the room, it flew from a wooden service counter onto a clothing rack, where it buzzed even louder. Before it could buzz any louder, it met it's demise at the hands of a curled up newspaper held by Stanley Pines.

"Wendy!" Stanley cried out. "You're supposed to be protecting the merchandise!"

"I am." Wendy replied casually. "But there's been nothing to protect it against man."

"This fly I just killed off could've left thousands of eggs!" Stanley said exasperated. "Which means thousands of fly babies roaming the shop!"

"I'm not sure that's how fly babies work Mr. Pines…" Wendy said.

"Regardless I expect you to protect the merchandise from the flies too!" Stanley said as he walked out of the room.

This is kinda lame Wendy thought to herself. Instead of doing this, I'm just gonna go see what's up with Dipper instead.

And so Wendy left her work station and walked outside instead to see her buddy Dipper strolling around in circles as he read from his journal.

"Hey Dipper!" Wendy said, startling him so much that he fell onto the ground. "What are you doing?"

Dipper was slightly flustered at his fall and took some time to respond. "Oh I'm just searching around for something out of the ordinary." DIpper replied. "Nothing really in particular has stuck out to this point."

"Oh cool, sounds better then work." Wendy replied. "I'll join you!" And so they circled the perimeter of the Shack, but found nothing of value once more.

"Say, let's go a little deeper into the woods." Dipper suggested. "I think we've exhausted all possibilities here." And so they went into the woods, and it didn't take too long for something to stick out.

"Oh hey Dip, I think I found something!" Wendy exclaimed as she picked something up. Showing it to Dipper, he could see that it was a tooth, a very decayed, gnawed up tooth. "Hmmmm, it's very possible Grunkle Stan could have been eating something heavy and broke his tooth off…" Dipper said aloud, though not specifically addressing Wendy.

"Hmmm, it seems a little… gross even for him."

As Wendy spoke, she instinctively scratched an itch on her nose, but did so with the tooth, opening up a small bloody wound on her nose.

"Ouch!" She yelped, rubbing the blood off her nose and onto her hand.

"You alright?" Dipper asked. Wendy stared at Dipper blankly for a moment, her eyes moving rapidly in all different directions.

"Wendy!" Dipper exclaimed in concern.

"Wha-" She said, caught off guard. "I'm fine, just scratched my nose with this tooth. How about you hold on to it dude?" She said, handing it over to him. Now that he had a closer look at it, something seemed off about it.

"This isn't no human tooth!" Dipper mumbled anxiously. "Almost like a… a zomb-zombie tooth! Wendy, you said you scratched yo-" Before Dipper could finish his sentence, he looked up to see Wendy eating the skin straight off her hand. "What, I'm hungry?" She said casually. Dipper decided he didn't need to ask his question.

"So, I'm gon-gonna become a zombie?" Wendy asked anxiously as she sat on Dipper's bed.

"If the journal is correct… yes." Dipper said. "I have no idea how long the process takes before you go full zombie."

"Is there any way to reverse it?" She asked, viciously picking at her skin simultaneously. "Sorry, I'm just so itchy right now!"

"Well according to the journal… no." Dipper said bluntly. "But Ford told me one time that there is a natural cure for 'infections of the mind' as he calls it. It's the so called 'purest creature's most vile excrement.'"

"You mean… Unicorn pee?" Wendy asked as she tore off a piece of her ear and put it in her mouth. Dipper said nothing of it.

"Y-yeah, that's exactly it." Dipper said uncomfortably.

As he finished, Wendy leaned in close to Dipper, so close he could feel her nose touching his forehead. Dipper stuck his lips out for a kiss…

but felt her tongue instead…

on his forehead.

"Wendy…?" Dipper asked as the initial euphoria of the situation had worn off. And then, just as suddenly, Wendy opened her mouth and attempted to bite him.

"WENDY!?" came Dipper's shocked reaction. She merely blinked both of her eyes and then sat down.

"I'm sorry… I just wanted some brain." She said innocently. Dipper knew they had to act fast from this point on and so he dragged the slowly zombifying Wendy and they traveled to the Unicorn land.

"Come on Wendy, we don't have much time!" He said as he dragged her along.

It was not too much much longer later when the two were still on their journey towards the Realm of Unicorns. Although Dipper knew the forest well, he had never been to this area and was therefore a bit lost. He was also lost deep in thought as he studied his map when he felt a sliminess in the back of his head.

"You need to wash your hair Dipper." Wendy stated. "It's greasetastic!"

"Wendy! Stay human, don't go after my head." Dipper said kinda angrily.

"Brain!" She said in a more grumbled, zombied voice than her usual voice. STOP, IT'S DIPPER! She thought to herself, grunting out loud.

"Sorry Dipper, I'm trying." She said more frantically. "The urges I have are just really strong right now."

"I'm doing everything I can to get there quick it's just diffic-" Dipper finished mid sentence as he saw Wendy holding her other hand in the air. "OH MY GOD WENDY, YOUR HAND!" He screeched.

Wendy stared briefly at her disembodied hand. PUT IT BACK, PUT IT BACK, PUT BACK! Was her frantic thought, but she didn't want Dipper to know that. "What this?" She said nonchalantly as she reattached her hand. "Yeah the pro of zombieness!... If it were Halloween."

"Stay focused, we're getting closer." Dipper said.

"Yeah man, get us there with your big… smart… juicy…. Br-" Dipper threw a tree branch to stop her train of thought. "S-sorry."

Finally after even more walking, they were on the outskirts of the Realm of Unicorns. Although encouraged to have finally made it, he was worried about the continuing zombification. Wendy's skin was becoming more green and her sentences less…. Profound.

"Herrreee. Are we herrreee?" She asked, her voice resembling a static groan more then herself.

"Yeah we are, but perhaps you shouldn't push yourself." Dipper suggested. "Who knows how much time you have left if any." Dipper said, as he instinctively swatted Wendy's hand away from the back of his hand, having gotten used to it by now.

Dipper, those Unicorns aren't gonna listen to your reason! YOU GOTTA GO KICK THEIR BUTTS! Wendy thought to herself, but her transformation wasn't letting her get that out fully. "Butts. Butts... Brains..." She said in a scattered mumble. Dipper was beginning to feel discouraged.

"Honestly is it even worth it at this point?" Dipper asked rhetorically. "Are you even still actually there?"

As he said this, Wendy grabbed his head from behind and lifted him in the air. Dipper was sure his brain was about to become stir fry but instead she landed a big wet kiss on him. It was not quite the elegance he had always imagined, but it was just what he needed.

"Stay here, I'll be right back." Dipper said, filled with a load of confidence. As he walked into the forest of unicorns, he saw a purple Unicorn jamming to rave music.

"Is-is this what unicorns are actually like?" Dipper asked concernedly to no one in particular.

"What do you want punk?" She asked him.

"Um, will you pee in this jar for me?" Dipper asked. The Unicorn just stared at him for a moment before deciding to say something.

"Uhh no thanks." She said to him in a defiant tone.

"Goddammit!" He said. "My friend is going to be zombified soon if I can't get your pee!"

"Tough luck." She said back as it licked it's hooves.

"Ugh!" He said angrily. "If Mabel were here, she'd probably be a lot nicer than I'm about to be, bu-" Before he could finish his sentence, he saw that the jar was full of Unicorn… well you know.

"No no no, don't bring those crazy women again!" the Unicorn said as she ran off from Dipper.

That was weird but I have no time at all to give it thought. I'm coming Wendy! He thought to himself. As he charged back up the hill, he saw her eating grass out of the ground.

"Wendy, stop eating grass!" Dipper said. "I got the cure!" Wendy didn't acknowledge him at all, almost as if she wasn't even there.

Oh no, am I too late? Does she not even remember who she is? Dipper, without giving it any more thought, tackled Wendy and attempted to pour the jar of pee down her throat. She resisted and tried grabbing Dipper.

"BRAIN. BRAIN." There was barely any humanity in her voice, scaring Dipper immensely. But he did not hesitate and continued to administer the cure.

As the jar was emptied, both of them fell down from their struggle on their butts into the ground. Dipper panted heavily while Wendy sat motionless. Wendy then sat up and growled a fierce roar, initially making Dipper feel that he had failed. But that roar devolved into a hacking wheeze where the piece of ear she had tried eating earlier flung at Dipper's face instead. Afterwards he could hear her breathing softly.

"Wendy?" Dipper asked nervously. He wasn't totally sure that this was the cured Wendy yet. "D-do you want to eat my brain?"

"What?" She asked, disgustedly. "That's gross man."

"Wendy!" He screeched happily. "You're cured! You're not a zombie anymore!"

"Sorry I tried to eat your brain, I don't think it was really me." She said sheepishly.

"It's alright." He said as they embraced in a hug. They then went back to the Shack, where Wendy just pretended like she never left her station. Stanley walked in a few seconds later.

"How's the merchandise holding up?" He asked her.

"Pretty swell, although one of those flies took out a chunk of my ear." She said, pointing at it.

"Sacrifice? I like it! Keep up the good work kiddo!" Stan said as he walked out.

Say where did that go anyways? Wendy wondered to herself.

Mabel walked into her room, back from a sleepover with Pacifica.

"Hey Dipper, how was your day?" She asked gleefully.

"Pretty interesting." He said. "Hey, is keeping a zombified ear of Wendy's ok or not really?"

The color dropped out of Mabel's face and she just walked out of the room. "I agree, not weird at all. Thanks Mabel." He said as he put it in his secret box.

#gravity falls fanfiction #wendy corduroy #dipper pines #wendip

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plaidaleckiandsnackles · 7 years

Text

Butterflies

read it on ao3

Castiel loved band, he loved music, but honestly? Marching band camp was hell. It was hot, bright, his feet ached, and his arms were sore from holding up his flute. But he had a bottle of Biofreeze waiting in his locker, and that thought alone was going to get him through the next hour of drills. He sighed, coming to attention and bringing his flute up as their trillionth drill for this movement began. They got about four bars into it before Mr. Turner called it quits, turning his attention on the clarinets and sending Naomi down to talk to the section leader about positioning. Castiel dropped his flute, twirling it absently in one hand before stretching his arms out behind him and turning on the spot, knowing better than to stray too far from his mark between drills. He let his eyes flicker over the blocking, watching the different sections talking amongst themselves, the drumline stretching after unhooking their drums from their shoulders. He snorted, watching the brass players rubbing their numb lips, before making eye contact with Dean Winchester, who smirked, biting his lower lip and fucking winking at Castiel. Cas started, immediately averting his eyes and blushing. He and Dean had started talking during the summer before camp began, and Cas' already present crush had grown exponentially as they'd gotten to know each other better. Dean was one year above Castiel, and perfect. He was gorgeous, smart, charming, and hilarious. He wrote an opinion column for the school paper, and had won awards, had some of his short stories published. He was also a terrible flirt, especially to Castiel. When they'd finally met in person on the first day of camp, Dean had told him he was cute when he smiled, and had grinned at him when his face colored immediately. He now took every opportunity to smile or wink at Cas, knowing how it affected him. Mr. Turner got their attention again, calling for one more run through of the movement before lunch. Cas groaned internally, shaking out his arms and steeling himself for one more run.

~~~

When lunch was finally called, after they'd marched back to the school to the sound of the drumline's cadences, the students scattered, many going to their lockers and depositing their instruments, gathering various essentials before either settling in the Performing Arts' Center lobby or heading out to their cars to go off campus for lunch. Cas beelined to the bathroom before leaving. As he was washing his hands he felt eyes on him, and looked up to meet Dean's green eyes in the mirror. He blushed a little, dropping his eyes and finishing up. Dean sauntered forward, leaning on the counter next to Castiel, looking him up and down before licking his lips and grinning, meeting Cas' eyes. "Hey Cas." "Hello, Dean." Castiel's eyes dropped to Dean's mouth, red and swollen from his trumpet mouthpiece. His lips were already pink and plump, and the swelling just made them more enticing. "Where ya goin' for lunch?" Cas shrugged, running his wet hands through his hair to cool down before drying his hands. He jumped when he felt fingers smoothing his hair down, and shuddered, closing his eyes and stilling. Dean finished fixing Cas' hair to his liking, stepping back and grinning flirtatiously at Castiel when he opened his eyes slowly to look up at him. "So, no lunch plans?" Opening his mouth, Castiel stuttered on his words before shaking his head. He swallowed. "No."

"Well, you're welcome to come with me any day you want." Dean winked, backing toward the door. "Offer's always on the table." He gave Castiel a two-finger salute before leaving. Cas exhaled all the breath in his body, leaning heavily on the counter. He closed his eyes, calming himself before the loud rumbling of his stomach shocked him into action, and he gathered himself before heading out to grab some food before he missed the chance.

~~~

Band camp dragged on, Castiel often distracted by the flirtations of Dean Winchester. He was able to focus enough to nail his blocking and not fuck up his part too much, but anytime Dean got close to him, his brain turned to static. On one of the last days of camp, Cas' ride had to leave early, leaving Cas to scramble for a ride, or risk walking the 45 minutes home on already aching legs. "Meg, come on, you owe me." "Sorry, Clarence," Meg shrugged, spinning one of her drumsticks between her fingers "drumline has practice with the pit tonight for our floor show. Starts right after camp. Singer is feeding us so we don't have to leave." Cas groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. "How long is practice, maybe I can kill some time." "By the time practice is even half over you could have walked home, and stopped for ice cream." She shrugged, ruffling Castiel's hair. "Tough luck, Clarence." "Yeah, right. Thanks anyway, Meg." Cas trudged away, dropping to the floor and leaning back against the brick wall, pulling out his cell to text Gabe, and finding it dead. Annoyed, he dropped it on the floor, propping his elbows on his knees and burying his face in his hands. "What's up, angel? You look upset." Castiel's head snapped up, finding Dean squatting down in front of him. He'd developed a tan line from his sunglasses on the sides of his face, and his freckles were more pronounced than Cas had ever seen. He closed his mouth with a click when he realized he was staring and shrugged, feigning nonchalance. "It's not a big deal, Chuck had to bail early for an appointment, and Meg has drumline tonight, so I'm kind of stranded." He tilted his head up to look at Dean, who was watching him. "Well hell, Cas, if a ride is all you need, I can take you home." Dean smiled kindly at him. "What, really?" Castiel's eyes widened, and he sat up. Dean laughed lightly, nodding. "Yeah, Cas. It's not far." "You know where I live?" Dean's face darkened, and he cleared his throat, shrugging. "We rode the same bus my sophomore year, before dad died and I got Baby." "You noticed me freshman year?" Cas felt like someone had filled his chest with helium. "Hard not to notice eyes like yours, angel." Dean winked, before standing up and holding his hand out to help Castiel up. "You got stuff to get, or are you ready?" Castiel was staring at his hand in Dean's, and looked up sharply, his cheeks heating when he found Dean smirking at him. "Sorry, what?" Dean chuckled, shaking his head. "You need anything before we go?" He let go of Cas' hand, reaching in the pocket of his basketball shorts and pulling out his keys. "No, I'm ready. Wait, no." He spun, grabbing his cell off the floor and shoving it in his pocket. "Okay yeah now I'm ready." Pursing his lips, Dean nodded, taking a few steps backward before jerking his head in the direction of the side doors. "I'm this way."

~~~

Riding in Dean's car was a sexual experience, Castiel was sure. The rumble of the engine, the age softened leather under him, Dean singing under his breath along with the radio. It raised goosebumps on Cas' arms. They stopped at a red light and Dean turned to him, smiling. "You okay over there, Cas?" He nudged at Castiel's shoulder, fingers lingering. Castiel glanced over at him, nodding. "Yeah," He cleared his throat. "I just really like your car." Dean beamed, running his hand affectionately over the dashboard. "Yeah, she's great. I hate driving her to school though, I'll probably drive the truck I had before this once school starts, I don't trust all the kids fresh outta driver's ed not to scratch her." Cas hummed his agreement, nodding at the green light ahead of them, and Dean winked as he pulled away. At the curb in front of Cas' house, he paused with his hand on the door handle, turning to Dean. "Thank you, Dean, really. You don't know how much I appreciate this." "No problem, Cas. Like I said, not far." "Well, regardless, I'm grateful." "You can pay me back another time." Dean winked at Castiel, and bit back a smile when Cas immediately blushed. "Yeah. Okay, well, bye. Thanks again." "Later, angel." Cas scurried up the walk to his house, walking in the unlocked door and waving at Dean from the doorway as he drove off, before closing the door and slumping against it. Dean Winchester was ruining his life.

~~~

The beginning of school came and everyone settled into their routines relatively quickly, and it seemed like they hadn't even been back a week before the first competition came around. Cas had managed to secure a spot on the same bus as Dean, thanks to Meg finding the list before him and jotting down both their names. Their first competition went pretty smoothly, his school taking third place in the field show and first for the drumline's floor show. The ride back was energetic, everyone caught up in the high of the first competition. Dean sat on the other side of the bus, a row up from Castiel, and met his eyes occasionally, throwing him a wink or a flirty smile. Castiel's confidence had grown some, and he fought back with a wink or two of his own. By the fourth competition, the excitement had died down a bit. This one was farther than the others, a three hour drive each way, and the bus was almost silent on the drive back, the late hour taking its toll, despite their first place wins in both field and drumline shows. The low buzzing of quiet conversations blended in to the white noise of the bus, and Cas found himself nodding off without his headphones. He caught himself, glancing over to find Meg curled in on herself, asleep with music filtering out from her earbuds. Cas decided to follow suit, plugging his into his phone and leaning his head against the seat in front of him. He must have fallen asleep, because he woke to an incessant tapping on his shoulder. He sat up, looking back at the source of the tapping, and found Dean on his knees on his seat behind Cas, leaning over the back of Castiel's seat. He motioned for Cas to take out his earbuds, and smiled when Cas did so. Dean shifted suddenly, leaning over the back of the seat and crowding into Castiel's space, stopping just in front of his face, his breath on Cas' lips. Cas sucked in a quiet breath, and felt more than saw Dean smile. He pulled back, looking at Cas with a grin. "Did you get butterflies?" Cas nodded, dumbstruck. "I love that feeling." Dean murmured, before sitting back in his seat, and leaving Cas' heart in his throat. Castiel swallowed, his mind reeling to make sense of what the hell just happened. He turned around, still stunned, and replaced his headphones, confusion burning hot on his face as he zoned out the last part of the trip home.

~~~

Once they were back at school with the buses empty and the trucks unloaded, Cas shoved his flute case in his locker and leaned against it, sighing heavily and moving to find Meg to take him home. He saw her talking to Crowley, one of the tuba players, smiling her predatory smile at him as he twirled a lock of her hair around his finger. Castiel shuddered. Not worth it. He sighed, rubbing at his tired eyes and running a hand through his hair. He had to go outside, the early October air already holding a light chill, enough to clear his head. He leaned against the building, breathing deeply before fishing his phone out to dial up Gabe to come get him. A familiar rumble that vibrated his bones made him look up, finding Dean leaning across his passenger seat to look at Cas through the open window. "Need a ride, angel?" Castiel shook his head. "No thanks, I've had enough butterflies for one night." He started walking, nevermind that it was the wrong direction for where he needed to go if Gabe was going to pick him up, though he still hadn't called him. Dean's face fell, and he crept the massive car forward to even up with Cas. "You're not mad, are you, angel? I was just teasing!" "I'm very aware of that, Dean. It's a strength of yours." Throwing the car in park, Dean got out and strode around the front of the car to stand in front of Castiel, his forehead creased in concern. He reached for Cas' shoulder, but he jerked back, and Dean let his hand hang in the air for a moment before dropping it to his side. He studied Cas' face, leaning his shoulder against the brick in front of Castiel. "Cas, did I cross a line or somethin'?" Castiel dropped his eyes, shrugging. "What lines were there to cross, Dean? We're barely friends." Dean shifted back, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck and sighing quietly. "Cas, let me drive you home." Pushing off the building, Cas tried to move past Dean, but froze when Dean grabbed his arm. "Please let go of me, Dean." "Castiel." Dean spoke softly but sharply, causing Cas to snap his head up to look at him in surprise. "Please let me drive you home." He raised his eyebrows, tightening his hand around Cas' arm a little. "Please." Castiel stared at him for a moment, studying his face, before finally nodding. Dean nodded once, opening the door for Cas to climb in and closing it gently behind him. He circled around to the driver's seat and got in, glancing at Castiel before pulling away from the building and out of the parking lot. They drove for a while in silence, before Cas realized they weren't going to his house. "Where are we going?" "It's a surprise." "Dean..." Dean pulled up to a stop sign, turning to Cas. "Cas, do you trust me?" Castiel considered for a moment, before nodding hesitantly. He'd told his parents he might be staying at Chuck's if the buses got in too late, anyway. He wouldn't be expected home. "Okay." Dean nodded. He turned the radio up to a comfortable level, and drove on. Cas wrapped his arms around himself self-consciously and leaned against the door, head on the window and his eyes on the stars. He felt Dean's eyes on him from time to time, but refused to meet them. After a while, Dean finally pulled to a stop, putting the car in park and turning it off. They were plunged into darkness, and as Castiel's eyes adjusted, he realized they were in the parking lot of a park about ten miles from their town, next to the duck pond. Cas had played here occasionally as a child, his parents dragging him along to watch his siblings play their various sports. Dean glanced at him, waiting until Cas reluctantly looked at him in return, and jerked his head, opening his door and climbing out. Cas sat for a moment before sighing heavily and exiting the vehicle as well, rubbing his hands over his arms as he realized he'd left his jacket in his locker. He jumped as a blanket landed on his shoulders, and watched as Dean walked away from him, leaning on the side of the car, looking out at the water. Castiel pulled the blanket around his shoulders, and joined him. They stood together in the quiet for a bit, watching the moon's reflection in the calm water. "I used to come out here a lot after my dad died." Dean murmured, crossing his arms. "I had nightmares, and ended up getting insomnia because I was afraid to go to sleep. After mom went to bed I'd sneak out and come out here, skip rocks, lay in the grass." He cleared his throat, shifting uneasily. "Sometimes I'd talk to him. Tell him how mad I was at him, and cry." Castiel looked at him, not speaking, but unsure of what to do with the sudden honesty. "He never let me cry. Boys don't cry, all that bullshit. He'd have blown a fuse if he'd found out about me." He huffed a humorless laugh, kicking at the ground. "Found out what?" Castiel's voice was quiet, concern bleeding through. Dean shrugged, glancing at Cas quickly before looking back at the ground, kicking a rock into the water and watching the ripples. "That I like guys." Cas stared at him, processing what he'd just said, before blurting out "You're gay?" Sighing exasperatedly, Dean shoved off the car, running a hand through his hair. "There are other sexualities, it's not just straight and gay, you know." He snapped. Flinching, Cas shrunk back against the car. "I know. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have assumed." He felt the car rock as Dean collapsed heavily against it, leaning his head back against the roof and looking up at the sky. "I'm bi." He finally muttered, shoving his hands nervously in his jacket pockets. Castiel tightened the blanket around himself, nodding slowly. "Hi Bi, I'm Cas." There were no sounds for a moment save for the perfect timing of a cricket, before Dean burst out laughing, covering his face with his hands. "Oh god, Cas, really? Dad jokes?" He dropped his hands, grinning. "That was awful." Cas smiled, ducking his head. He looked up at Dean with a more serious face, studying him. "I thought you might want a tone change." Dean watched him for a moment before pressing his mouth into a line and nodding. "Thanks, Cas." They stood in silence again, breaking eye contact to watch the water again, when suddenly Dean's hand grabbed Cas wrist and pulled him to his side, lifting his finger to his lips. Cas' eyebrows furrowed, but followed Dean's finger when he pointed across the water, where a deer had approached the edge and was drinking, the small ripples spreading across the surface of the water. Cas exhaled a quiet breath, so focused on the deer he didn't realize Dean's fingers were twined with his, until she looked up suddenly and took off, as deer do. Cas jumped at the sudden change, and tightened his hand in Dean's, looking down at their joined hands in confusion. He looked up at Dean, who had tensed next to him. Castiel leaned back against the car again, dropping Dean's hand when the blanket started sliding off his shoulders, pulling it tight around him again and shifting his weight to lean against Dean's side, feeling him relax. "Why did you do that? On the bus?" Cas finally broke the silence, looking at Dean out of the corner of his eye. "I don't know." Dean shrugged, kicking at the dirt again. "I mean, I do love those pre-kiss butterflies, but I shouldn't have done that to you, it wasn't fair. Sorry if I made you uncomfortable." He pulled away from Castiel, pushing off the car on the pretense of a stretch. "Dean, I-" Cas swallowed, rubbing at the back of his neck nervously. "I was-" "Hey, Cas, don't worry, you don't have to make excuses. I fucked up, I can accept that." He was standing closer to the edge of the water with his hands in his pockets, smiling a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "You didn't fuck up." Castiel blurted, immediately blushing, thankful for the dark. "What?" Dean was staring raptly at him, smile gone from his face. "You didn't fuck up," Cas mumbled, avoiding Dean's eyes. "I wasn't uncomfortable." "You weren't?" Dean's voice was closer, and Cas looked up to find him slowly approaching him. Cas met his eyes and shook his head. "So what were you?" Dean was in front of him now, close enough to touch but far enough to give Castiel some semblance of personal space, though he'd never fully grasped the concept. Eyes dropping to the ground, Cas mumbled something inaudible, and Dean took a step closer. "What?" Castiel took a deep breath, steeling himself. He looked up at Dean, watching as something flashed through his eyes that looked a lot like hope. He swallowed nervously. "I was disappointed." Confusion contorted Dean's face, and he took a step back. "Disappointed." Cas reached out, grabbing Dean's arm and pulling him back toward him, ignoring the blanket when it slipped to the ground. He dropped his gaze to the ground, watching as Dean's shoes stopped in front of his. "I was disappointed you didn't kiss me." His confession was met with silence, and he felt his face heat in embarrassment, internally panicking, sure Dean would be able to hear his rabbit heartbeat as he tried to figure out a way out of the situation. "Cas," Dean murmured, and Cas shook his head, blinking rapidly against the tears threatening to fill his eyes. He didn't want to hear Dean's easy let down. He'd let himself hope when Dean said he was bi, but just because he liked guys doesn't mean he liked him. He cursed internally, angry at himself for getting sucked in to Dean Winchester's flirting and thinking it meant anything. "Castiel, look at me." He huffed in annoyance when Cas shook his head again, a tear escaping down his cheek. "Damn it, Cas, look at me!" He grabbed Castiel's chin, forcing his head up and brushing his thumb across Cas' cheek where the tear had fallen. Cas' eyes snapped to Dean's, his brow furrowing in confusion. Dean was studying him, a fond look on his face. "Can I kiss you?" Castiel found himself nodding before his brain decided, and inhaled sharply when Dean pressed close, one hand on Cas' waist. The other combed his hair off his forehead before cupping his jaw. He leaned in, brushing his nose gently against Cas', before ghosting his lips across his. The butterflies fluttered anxiously in Cas' stomach, and he reached for Dean to ground himself, one hand curling in the collar of his jacket and the other hovering hesitantly over Dean's hip. Dean smiled, and just like earlier, Cas felt it more than saw it. He was about to open his mouth to question when Dean closed the small space between them and pressed his lips softly to Castiel's. It was gentle and chaste, and Dean kissed Cas' lower lip as he pulled back, leaning his forehead against Castiel's. He exhaled on a laugh, and pulled back just enough to meet Cas' eyes. "Did you get butterflies?" Cas whispered, and Dean grinned wide, nodding. "Yeah, Cas." "I'm not sure I did." Cas said thoughtfully, and Dean pulled back further to look at him, his eyebrows creasing. Cas tightened his hand in Dean's jacket and pulled him forward again, smiling teasingly. "We should probably try again." Dean huffed, rolling his eyes, pulling a grinning Castiel in by the back of his neck, kissing him again. He sucked Cas' lower lip into his mouth teasing his tongue against it, and hummed in agreement when Castiel groaned softly. Cas leaned back fully against the car, pulling Dean against him, fingers slipping into the front pocket of his jeans. He opened his mouth, inviting Dean in, and both boys made noises of approval when their tongues met, the kiss deepening quickly. They broke apart, panting, and Dean held Cas' face in his hands. "God you're beautiful, Castiel." He leaned in, kissing him again, lips dropping to Cas' jaw, dragging up the shell of his ear. He nosed along Cas' cheekbone, his hand flexing on Castiel's waist. "Fucking gorgeous." He mumbled against Cas' lips before kissing him deeply, pressing Cas against the car. He ran a hand over Castiel's shoulder and down his arm, slipping his fingers between Cas' and squeezing gently. Castiel moaned quietly, snaking his free arm around Dean's neck, carding his fingers through his hair and cradling the back of his head. They pulled apart, panting against the each other's mouths, and Cas smiled, pressing a light kiss to Dean's cheek. "Definitely butterflies." Dean laughed lightly, pulling back to look at Cas and squeezing his hand. "Yeah?" Nodding, Cas smiled shyly. Sighing quietly, Dean dropped his head to Cas' shoulder. "I should probably get you home, huh?" Castiel shrugged, jostling Dean's head. "I told my parents that if the buses got in too late that I might just crash at Chuck's. They're not really expecting me. Dean pulled back, looking at him hopefully. "Really?" He grinned when Cas nodded. "Um, well," he started nervously, scratching at his hair. "Mom is out of town, up in South Dakota visiting Aunt Jody, and since I wasn't going to be home until late, Sammy stayed the night at a friend's house. Do you want to come over?" Hesitating, Cas opened his mouth, but Dean cut him off. "You don't have to. And if you want to, we don't have to do this," he gestured between the two of them. "we can just watch a movie, or play video games, or just sleep. Whatever you want to do, I'm fine with, and-" Cas cut him off with a soft press of his lips. "I would love to come over." He held up a finger when Dean opened his mouth. "I think we might need to talk about what this" he gestured between them as Dean had. "is, but we can figure things out from there. Sleep does sound nice, though." He kissed Dean gently, his lips lingering against Dean's. "Sleeping next to you sounds even better." He smiled when he heard Dean laugh breathlessly before he nodded. They parted, Dean wrapping the blanket around Castiel's shoulders again before they got in the car, Dean leaning over to kiss Cas' cheek before he drove off, and Castiel watched him, a fond smile playing at the corner of his mouth. At a stoplight, Dean looked over at him and grinned, winking. "What are you thinking about that's got you smiling like that?" Castiel reached across the seat, taking Dean's hand. "Butterflies."

#marilyn writes #writing #destiel #fic #fanfic

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woods2006gal · 3 years

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Chapter 06 - The Phantom of the Opera

“Nothing says school spirit like a ring that looks like it was jacked from P. Diddy,” Chloe says, examining her class ring. Zoey frowns as she looks at her own ring. It wasn’t necessary her taste. Their sophomore year had gotten off to a normal start for Smallville. Clark had developed a new power, heat vision, and Zoey had been grossed out to know what caused it. Lex had a quickly marriage caused by their formal biology teacher, Miss Atkins. Pete had discovered Clark’s spaceship and learned his secret.

“I think it looks great, Chloe,” Clark argues.

“Yeah, I think we’ll be lucky if the glue holds through graduation. I wonder if the ruby’s even real,” Chloe tells them, then heads down the hallway.

Zoey shrugs. “It’s okay. It’s nothing something I would wear everyday.” She raises an eyebrow as Clark moves up in the line to the table to pick up his ring. “You’re really doing this?”

“I’m here, aren’t I?” Zoey and Pete exchange a look. “What?”

“If I correctly recall, Uncle Jonathan’s exact words were ‘$350 is a lot of money to spend on something you really don’t need.’”

“I earned that money. Besides, dad said that it was my decision to make. And he didn’t say anything about you getting one.”

“I didn’t mention that I was getting one.”

“And what your dad really means, Clark, is that you’re really not supposed to buy it,” Pete points out.

Clark shrugs and hands over his money and order. The person at the table hands him a ring box. He pulls out the ring and immediately it puts it on. Zoey places at Pete. It was as if something had quickly changed within Clark.

“Clark, are you okay,” Zoey asks.

“Yeah, I feel great,” Clark answers. Zoey follows his gaze and rolls her eyes seeing. Next to Lana was the new girl, who wore a see through crop top and black jeans.

“Excuse me,” Mr. Gibbons, the vice principal, calls, walking up to them. “It’s Jessie, isn’t it? Perhaps Miss Lang didn’t tell you, but there’s a dress code here at Smallville High.”

“Lame and lamer,” Jessie mockingly answers. Clark laughs and Zoey raises an eyebrow. He was all about following the rules.

Mr. Gibbons shoots Clark a glare. “You think that’s funny, Mr. Kent?”

“By the way, I’m not changing,” Jessie states.

“Well, perhaps you’d like to discuss your attitude in my office.”

“Excuse me, Mr. Gibbons,” Clark calls. “I think she looks really hot. And I think that your dress code…sucks.”

Mr. Gibbons stares at Clark. “Excuse me?”

“I mean, come on, it’s her first day. Cut her some slack. Besides, I don’t think you should be the one giving fashion tips.”

Mr. Gibbons turns to Jessie. “Tomorrow, young lady, proper attire or you’re going straight home.”

Lana forces a smile. “I guess we can finish our tour later,” she says, then walks off with Jessie.

“Whoa,” Pete says, staring at Clark. “Where did that come from?”

“I don’t know,” Clark answers with a smile. “But I think I liked it.”

~*~

Zoey walks down the stairs. She clutched her Blackberry in her right hand. “Um, Uncle Max just got called me. He wanted to know why I spent ten thousand dollars at Discount Eddie’s electronics last night in Metropolis,” she tells her godparents. Jonathan and Martha exchange a worried look. Suddenly, loud music blares from outside.

They follow the music to the barn. Zoey stares at the jet ski. There were numerous boxes scattered around the barn. She follows Martha and Jonathan up the stairs. Clark was sitting in front of a large flat screen TV, playing a video game. Along with the different electronics around the loft, were numerous items of expensive clothes. “Clark,” Jonathan shouts, grabbing the remote off a nearby speaker. Instead of turning down the music, he turns it up. Clark grabs the remote from his father and turns it off. “Clark, where did you get all this stuff?”

“Discount Eddie’s in Metropolis,” Clark answers. “Open all night.”

“We can’t afford all this...stuff,” Martha says, looking around.

“Zoey can,” Clark argues. “It’s just a drop in the bucket for her.”

“You stole my credit card and went on a shopping spree, Clark,” Zoey snaps.

“You can afford it. You’re richer than Lex.”

Jonathan tenses. “Clark, you’re going to take all this stuff back.”

“I don’t understand how we have money troubles, when all we have to do is ask Zoey. Hell, she’s miss moneybags. With one phone call she can take care of all of our problems. Why is she even living with us if you’re not going to take advantage of that?”

Zoey stares at him. She walks out of the barn. “Zoey,” Martha shouts, running after her. “Zoey, I’m sure Clark didn’t—”

“I need to finish getting ready. I don’t want to miss the bus,” Zoey interrupts, walking up the stairs. She enters her bedroom and closes the door with a soft thud. She leans against it and bites her lip to keep the sob from coming out.

~*~

“Pete! Zoey,” Chloe calls out, causing them to walk into the Torch’s office. Pete had been checking on Clark by talking with Zoey. She, however, had been avoiding Clark since he had stolen her credit card. “You are not going to believe what I found out! Our El Cheapo class rings are in fact, fake.”

Zoey forces a smile. “That’s not exactly surprising, Chloe.”

“Chloe, there’s something wrong with Clark,” Pete tells the blonde reporter.

Chloe frowns. Zoey picks up a rock that was sitting on top of a pile of paper. “More than usual?”

“Last night at the Talon, the motorcycle…other stuff.”

“What kind of other stuff?”

“The kind that has Mr. and Mrs. Kent calling my house. They’re really worried. It’s like they think he’s on drugs or something.”

Zoey nods. “Yeah, somethings really up with Clark.”

“Clark would have to be on drugs to be on drugs. Uh, just be careful with that.”

Zoey shoots her a curious look. “What is it?”

“My expose,” Chloe answers. She holds out her hand with her class ring on it. “See this lovely $350 piece of school spirit? It’s a rip off. The jewelry company was substituting worthless meteor rocks for rubies to save money.”

“Meteor rocks are green, not red.”

“Not the load they found near Hobbes Pond. Note the red vine. You guys can read all about it on page one of today’s Torch.”

Pete takes off out of the office. Chloe turns to Zoey and she shrugs. “Bets me.”

~*~

Clark knocks on the door of Zoey’s bedroom. She was sitting at her desk, working on biology homework. “How goes your apology tour,” she asks without looking up. Even after learning that he was essentially on the Clark Kent version of drugs, Zoey had still avoid him until Jonathan with the help of Pete had managed to destroy Clark’s class ring.

“Uh, good. Look, Zoey, the things I said...I’m sorry. I didn’t mean any of it,” Clark replies, shoving his hands in his jean’s pockets.

Zoey turns to him. “Clark, we both know that you did. Those feelings didn’t just magically appear because of red meteor rock.”

Clark sighs. “You’re right. I don’t like that we have money troubles and you don’t.”

Zoey bites her lip. She looks at a picture of her, Oliver, her parents, and Max. It was taken a couple of months before her parents died. They had rented a house in Aspen for the holidays. “Clark, I would give all the money up to have my mom and dad here.”

Clark shifts. He knew that Zoey would do anything to have her parents alive and well. He also knew that it was part of the reason why she was so close to Max. “I returned all the stuff that I brought.”

Zoey shrugs. “It’s fine.”

“Max isn’t going—”

“Uncle Max thought it was hilarious. He says next you go on a drunk shopping spree, then at least let him know.”

~*~

Zoey sighs as walk through the woods to the graveyard. Things had been tense in the Kent household ever since Clark’s adventure with red meteor rock. She stops at the headstone with the name Jackson York written on it. She had found the grave of her grandfather a couple of years earlier, while researching her father’s family for a school project. Her parents, Shannon and Matthew, were buried in the Carmichael family crypt just outside of Star City. She finds an envelope sitting on top of the headstone. She cautiously takes it off and sees her name elegantly scrawled on it. Then leaves rustle. She turns to look, but doesn’t find any one there. She examines the envelope and finds it sealed with wax.

The next morning at school, Zoey explains the letter and finding it to Chloe and Lana. “Ah, the sentiment’s nice. But the fact that found this in a graveyard seems a little Amityville,” Chloe tells her as they walk down the hallways.

“I think it’s kind of romantic,” Lana counters. “I haven’t had a love letter since third grade. It seems like a lost art.”

Zoey frowns. “I’ve never gotten a love letter. Am I missing out on something?”

“Believe me, you’re not missing out. This morning in trig, I intercepted a note from a wrestler to a cheerleader. It wasn’t exactly poetic, but, um, he defiantly got his point across,” Chloe says. “Who do you think wrote it?”

“No idea,” Zoey replies, taking the letter back. They walk into the Torch’s office and the girls sit down on the couch. “If you take away the whole found it in a cemetery, then it is a little romantic.”

“Hey, guys,” Clark greets, walking into the Torch office with Pete. “What’s going on?”

Chloe smirks. “Zoey has a secret admirer.”

Zoey rolls her eyes. The last thing she wanted was to Clark to know about it. “It’s nothing.”

“What do you mean nothing? What happen to romantic,” Chloe argues, taking the letter and handing it to Clark.

Clark frowns as he reads over the letter. “It’s a little mushy.”

Lana laughs. “Clark Kent, the man of steel.”

Zoey stands up and grabs the letter. “I have to go,” she mutters and quickly makes her way out of the Torch’s office. The last thing she wanted to discuss with Clark was anything related to her love life.

~*~

Zoey rolls her eyes when she walks between the counter and sees Lex holding up the poem. News of the letter had quickly spread around town. “It’s a little personal,” she tells him, then sets about making his usual order. “But you are more than welcome to read it. Just as long as you don’t agree with Clark. He thinks it a little sappy.”

Lex chuckles. “The, uh, imagery is a little naive, but the meter’s actually quite sophisticated. Who wrote this?”

“I have no idea. But depending on who you ask, it’s either an admirer or a psychopath.”

He shoots her a concerned look. “That had a little venom to it. Everything all right?”

Zoey sighs. “I’m just tired of everyone giving me crap over the poem.”

“Take me to you, imprison me, for I never shall be free, nor ever chaste, except you ravish me,” Lex recites.

Zoey smiles. “John Donne. One of my favorites.”

Lex smirks. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say I found your Achille’s heel.”

Zoey laughs. “I didn’t realize you were into poetry.”

“Anyone who doesn’t appreciate poetry doesn’t understand that it’s all about seduction.” Lex hands the poem back to her. “Could it be from a certain brooding teenager I saw with you last summer?”

A light blush appears on Zoey’s face. “It’s not his hand writing. Besides, leaving it in a cemetery isn’t exactly his style.”

A throat clears and they turn to see Clark. He shifts. “Zoey, I know things aren’t so great between us right now, but I want to apologize for ragging on the poem.”

Zoey waves a hand. “It’s fine, Clark. Poetry’s not for everyone.”

“Don’t you think it’s weird,” Clark asks. “This guy’s sneaking around watching you.”

Zoey raises an eyebrow. “First of all, Clark, trying to play the over protective big brother role will not work because I’m older than you. And it’s no worse than paparazzi following me.”

A concerned look crosses Clark’s face. “Zoey—”

“Hey, why don’t we talk about how much Lex hates having his dad as a roommate,” Zoey deflects, shooting a smirk at Lex. Another thing she didn’t find ideal to share with Clark: photographers in Star City capturing moments that she felt was intimate.

~*~

That night, Zoey finds herself back in the cemetery, waiting to see if the mysterious admirer makes an appearance. She sits down at her grandfather’s grave and pulls out a thermos of coca she had made at the Talon earlier during her shift. “I’m insane,” she mutters, glancing at her watch. It was nearly one in the morning and there had been no sign. She pulls her pea coat close as she fights off a yawn. Footsteps crunch on leaves. She turns. There in the shadows of the moonlight was a tall man. He wore a white loose shirt. He takes off and she quickly goes after. “I got your poem,” she shouts, hoping that he would stop. “It was...amazing.”

He stops. She could see that he long dark hair. And he wore a checkered scarf. He looks at her, shyly. “You really think so?”

“Yes.” Zoey walks towards him. She notices another envelope on the ground and picks it up. Her name is elegantly written on it. “What’s your name?”

“Byron.”

Zoey smiles, moving closer to him. “Like the poet.”

“Like my great uncle. But there’s nothing poetic about him.”

Zoey glances down at the envelope in her hands. “Why do you leave these poems for me?”

“Because you inspire me,” Byron softly answers. She could see his dark brown eyes. Zoey pulls a flash light from her pocket and turns it on. She starts to search through her pockets, but he hits the flashlight out of her hand. “No. Don’t.”

“Get away from her!”

Zoey turns to see Clark running towards. “What the fuck are you doing here,” she snaps. Byron takes off running, but trips over a headstone and falls to the ground. “Byron, are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine,” Byron answers. Byron touches the back of his head. He pulls his hand away to reveal blood. Then he passes out.

“We should get him somewhere safe,” Zoey says, standing up. “Let’s take him to the Talon. It’s at least more comfortable there.”

~*~

“I can’t believe I passed out,” Byron says, finishing a bite of chocolate cake. Once they had made it back to the Talon, Byron had woken up. Zoey had made up an ice pack and gotten him a piece of cake while Clark just silently watched.

“I’m sorry I scared you,” Clark says.

“It’s okay, Clark. You were protecting a beautiful young lady. It was chivalrous. You’re lucky to have a boyfriend who cares so much about you.”

“No, no, no, no, no,” Zoey laughs, shaking her head. “No. No. Clark is like my annoying younger brother. He tries to be the overprotective brother type. But no. I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“If I could write the beauty of your eyes and number all your graces the age to come would say this poet lies. Such heavenly touches ne’er touched earthy faces.”

Zoey smiles. “That was beautiful.” Byron shoots her a shy, thankful smile.

Clark, who had resisted at rolling his eyes, looks at Byron. “Which poet wrote that?”

Byron glances at him. “Shakespeare.”

“So, you’re homeschooled,” Zoey says, shooting him another smile. “That’s something that I can’t imagine doing. Or the fact that you don’t get to hang out with anyone.”

Byron shrugs. “You don’t miss what you never had.”

Clark notices the scars around Byron’s wrists. “Sounds like you don’t get out much. Uh, are you parents pretty strict?”

“They only want what’s best for me.”

Zoey frowns when she hears a vehicle outside. “Fuck. That’s the milk delivery. It always gets here super early.”

A startled look appears on Byron’s face. “What time is it?”

“Quarter to five,” Clark answers, glancing at his watch.

“If my parents wake up…” Byron trails off as he runs out of the Talon.

“Wait, Byron, we’ll give you a ride,” Zoey tells him, running after him. Byron looks between her and Clark, who nods in agreement. “You’ll get home a lot faster.” Byron nods and the three of them climb into the Kent’s red pick up truck.

The drive is silent with Byron giving directions every once in a while. They pull up to a house and Zoey raises an eyebrow. It appeared to be in decent shape, but the ‘no trespassing’ and ‘keep out’ signs caused Zoey and Clark to exchange a concerned look. “Do you want us to come in and tell your parents what happened,” Clark asks.

“No, I’ll be fine,” Byron says and runs out of the truck. They watch as he runs up to the house. His mother was wearing a bathrobe, ushering him inside. Byron’s dad walks out, carrying a shot gun.

Zoey climbs out of the truck and runs up to the house, knowing that Clark was right behind her. “Byron,” she calls out. They reach the porch as Byron’s mother ushers him into the house.

Byron’s father aims the shot gun at them. “I’d better not catch you around my son again,” he warns. “Now, get out before I shoot you for trespassing.” Clark grabs Zoey’s arm and leads her back to the truck.

“Clark, we have to do something,” Zoey tells him, climbing into the truck.

Clark puts the truck into reverse and backs out of the driveway. “We’ll talk to dad. He’ll know what to do.”

~*~

Jonathan’s idea was to call the sheriff and pay a visit to the Moore house. The visit hadn’t gone well. Byron’s parents had claimed that he was dead and had accused Zoey and Clark of playing a cruel practical joke on them. Ethan, the sheriff and a long time friend of Jonathan’s, had been convinced to get a search warrant. Zoey and Clark had gone to Chloe to see if she could help dig up information on Byron. “It looks like your tortured artist is an unfortunate member of the dead poets society,” Chloe says, grabbing the death certificate she had printed out. “The certificate of death was signed by Dr. Emil Jenkins.”

Zoey takes the paper. “This has to be fake. If Byron is dead, then we’re all dead.”

“Not that I do’t trust your judgment, Zoey, but could it be possible that goth boy maybe is—”

“A fucking ghost could finish three pieces of chocolate cake and two cappuccinos,” she interrupts.

Chloe smiles. “I like this new Zoey. She needs to say around and help me annoy Clark by swearing too much. Anyway, I was just checking. I mean, this is Smallville. Well, I ran Dr. Jenkins’ name through the computer and found out something very interesting.” Chloe stands up and walks over to a different to grab her bag. “Eight years ago, he supervised a medical trail over at Metron Pharmaceuticals.”

“Let me guess, Byron was a participant,” Clark asks.

“Yeah, they were all kid who had exhibited antisocial behavior.”

Zoey frowns as they walk out of the Torch’s office. “Byron is way too sweet.”

“Could it be that our new Shakespeare has a stirred the heart of our young Juliet?”

“It’s nice to meet someone here,” Zoey argues. “Anyway, I think we should go look for Byron.”

Clark shakes his head. “No, we should wait to see what the sheriff finds.”

~*~

Clark, of course, didn’t listen to the advice he had given Zoey. He and Pete had went over to the Moore house to search for Byron. Clark, in wanting to help Byron, had actually learned Byron’s secret. The experiments that were conducted on him as a kid caused him to grow strong when sunlight hit him. His face would change and scars appeared down his back. Pete received a broken arm after Byron had thrown him into a car windshield. Zoey had learned all of this after visiting Pete in the hospital.

Clark walks into the Talon to find Zoey behind the counter, organizing the pastry display. “Zoey—”

“You know, I visited Pete earlier,” Zoey snaps. “Thanks for telling me. Byron’s my friend and you didn’t even tell me what you were doing. I wanted to help.”

“I didn’t want you to get hurt,” Clark argues.

“Oh, so, Pete can hurt, but not me,” Zoey counters. “I am not a porcelain doll that needs to be protected.”

“You haven’t seen Bryon, have you?”

“No.”

“Okay, so I think I figured out why our would be Shakespeare went all pro wrestler on you,” Chloe says, walking up to them with a file in her hand.

“What did you find,” Zoey asks while Clark takes the file.

“Um, well, the drug that Byron was given during the medical trails targeted his adrenal system.”

“It says here they were looking for a cure,” Clark summarizes. “We need to track down the company.”

“It’s too late, Metron Pharmaceuticals was shut down before they even finished their research.”

“I know where I’ve heard that name before,” Zoey suddenly says. “It’s own by LuthorCorp.” She grabs her peacoat and Clark’s arm. “Let’s go.”

“Zoey—” Clark begins.

“I know where you sleep and have access to a ton of cow shit,” Zoey snaps. “Do you really want to test me right now?”

Clark sighs. “Don’t get too close to him. If you find him, call someone.”

~*~

The first and only place that Zoey looked was the cemetery. She figured that if Byron had a death certificate, then he probably had a grave. Her intuition is right when she finds him sitting in front of the headstones. “Bryon,” Zoey softly says, walking over to him. She holds out her hands. “It’s just me, Zoey. I want to help you.”

Byron turns to her. He wore a long, black trench coat and black pants. His face is different. Zoey is reminded of the vampires on Buffy the Vampire Slayer. “I was down there for eight years,” Byron says, standing up and walking over to her. “I’m not going back.”

Zoey stares at him. “You could hurt people. And the Byron that I met, the Byron that I’ve gotten to know, wouldn’t want that. LuthorCorp did this to you. And Clark is talking to Lex. I’m going to talk to Lex too. They can find a cure.”

“There is no cure,” Byron argues, grabbing her arms.

“Byron, let go of me.”

“I want you.” Zoey yanks out of his grasp. “They made me into someone no one can love. Not even you.”

“That’s not true,” Zoey tells him. But Byron doesn’t hear her. He shoves back. Zoey stumbles and falls down, hitting her head on a tombstone.

~*~

Zoey sits down at a table in the Talon with the padded envelope she had gotten in the mail earlier that day. She had been okay, just a bump on the head. Byron was in the hospital getting treatment and Martha had convinced Lionel fund the research into Byron’s condition. She opens the envelope and pulls out the contents. It was a small canvas and a card.

‘Saw this and thought you might like it.’

Zoey instantly recognized the familiar scrawl. The painting was of a white mask, one that only covered half of the face, with a red rose on a black ground.

“Who is that from?”

Zoey glances over her shoulder to see Lex. She shoots him a smile. “A friend.”

In sleep he sang to me In dreams he came That voice that calls to me and speaks my name And do I dream again for now I find The Phantom of the Opera is there Inside my mind

Sing once again with me Our strange duet My power over you grows stronger yet And though you turn from me to glance behind The Phantom of the Opera is there Inside your mind

#smallville #original character #original female character #series rewrite

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