#unwind connor

[itsatigersharkidiot]

“I've got you under my skin

I've got you, deep in the heart of me

So deep in my heart that you're really a part of me

I've got you under my skin”

[heliads]

the brother of a god - lucas lassiter

Even with Connor taken away by the Juvey-cops, Lucas can't stop himself from wondering about the brother he used to have.

masterlist

Lucas Lassiter wakes up and he doesn’t have a brother. 

He didn’t have one yesterday, either. Or last week. This should stop being a surprise. Is there a point at which the novelty wears off, really? When you stop forgetting that you haven’t always been an only child? That a few weeks ago, Juvey-cops broke into your house and took your brother, and your parents let it happen because they asked for it in the first place?

Lucas won’t forget. He has promised himself this. There was a boy named Connor Lassiter in this very house, and he tormented Lucas all the time except for when he lost interest, and when he was a good brother who taught Lucas how to ride a bicycle and how to run from guys who were bigger than you. They say Connor ran from the Juvey-cops, that he’s still hidden somewhere no one can find him. Lucas wonders if he remembers Connor’s lessons well enough to do the same thing if he ever had to.

He’s supposed to be moving on. His parents have told him that. The special therapist they hired when it became increasingly clear that Lucas couldn’t just up and forget that Connor used to live right down the hall keeps reminding him that the past is the unchangeable past, but it isn’t. Not to Lucas. Memories of his brother refuse to leave him. For that to happen, they’d have to unwind the parts of his brain, too, the ones that still hold Connor, and they’ve assured him that won’t happen again. No more sons lost to the harvest camps. But they might have told that to Connor, too, and look how that worked out.

Privately, Lucas wonders if he can’t let go of his brother because he’s terrified the same thing that happened to Connor will happen to him. Maybe Lucas will not be good enough either. Maybe he will bomb a math test and his parents will start reconsidering. A botched strikeout in a faulty game and they’ll wonder about the forms they signed in triplicate again. It was easy enough the first time. Surely it would be a simple thing to do it again. 

No. No. It won’t happen to him. Lucas is— Lucas is the good one. Yeah, he’s the good one, and Connor wasn’t. Connor got in trouble all the time. Connor stayed out late and picked fights and did everything an under-eighteen shouldn’t. God, it was like—

Like he wanted to be unwound. Like he wanted to die. 

But that’s not true. Connor loved living. That’s why he went about his days like even the rules couldn’t stop him from enjoying his life like he wanted. Connor lived more than Lucas will, even if Lucas never gets unwound, even if he survives to a hundred and one. Lucas could do stupid things like go sky-diving and play chicken on the railroad tracks and he’d still never get that vicarious glint in his eyes that Connor had all the time. Connor knew how to live. He hopes whoever gets that grisly chunk of Connor’s brain gets to live like that, too. 

Lucas thinks it would be incredible. Like flying. Connor felt more than anyone. That’s why Lucas couldn’t do anything but stand, frozen, on the flight of stairs, as the Juvey-cops hauled Connor away into a small car and took him away forever. Connor was so afraid– it wasn’t right. Lucas couldn’t imagine a world in which Connor was that terrified. So he stood there and did nothing and let his brother go get butchered. They say Connor started running later. Once he remembered how, maybe. Or when he realized no one was going to help him anymore. Not even his own brother.

Lucas had not run. He had stayed on that stairwell, looking uncertainly towards the door, watching the lights of the car drive away. His parents had told him to go to bed, but even after he forced his feet back inside his room, Lucas couldn’t sleep. He lay awake hands folded across his stomach like a corpse, wondering if his brother was dead yet. Wondering how a father decides his boy isn’t good enough to live. Wondering how a mom stops wanting two boys and decides just one will be fine.

And the worst part is, with Connor gone, Lucas still isn’t the most important Lassiter brother. He had assumed that he would be. Which is stupid, and mean, but true. He would be the best. He always had been, historically– fewer fights, higher grades, and of course the fact that he hasn’t yet been unwound is a definite plus in his favor– but it’s still not as certain as he would like. If he does not improve his act, if he does not clearly prove that he is the favorite child and not just the one left over, what will stop Connor’s fate from befalling him? The Lassiters have already unwound one child. They can do it again.

And when his family sits around the table, when his father instinctively puts out a glass of water at an empty chair or his mom starts to make a fourth plate to set out late, they start remembering these things too late. That Connor isn’t coming back. Sometimes they call Lucas down for a meal and they say Connor’s name first. Even after he’s gone, Connor is the one that matters. Lucas is just there in the background. Another option once the first one failed.

One time in history class, they were talking about the royal family, how they’d have the first son to inherit the throne and the second just in case. A spare. Lucas thinks he gets how it feels now. He’s the spare parts, the extra set of bones and blood because the first one didn’t pan out as they hoped. He’d better get his stuff together, because there isn’t another one. Just him, and that’s an awful heavy load to bear. Maybe that’s why Connor went crazy. Maybe that’s why he wanted to stay out late and duck curfew. He didn’t want that title, and now Lucas doesn’t, anyway. Only there’s no one left to save him now.

The other kids ask Lucas about Connor in school. They talk about him a lot, actually. They’re not supposed to. Typically, the way of the world is that a student will be unwound, creating a hotbed of heated rumors about what would happen for a parent to love their kid better in pieces, and then even the most intense whispers die down and it’s like nothing ever happened. The theories about their unwinding get attributed to other kids, and soon people start forgetting if their name started with an R or an S, if he was a Harlan or a Humphrey, if he was ever someone who had gone to their school at all. Unwound not just in body, but in name, too. In memory. In every way that matters.

Connor is the exception. Even weeks later, Connor Lassiter is still the most important topic of conversation. Lucas can’t go anywhere without hearing his name. A few of the braver kids have gone up to Lucas directly to ask about him– does he ever hear from his brother, will Connor come back and kill his whole family out of revenge, does he receive secrets about underground Unwind rings? Lucas says no to all of them, but he’s not sure anyone believes him.

Privately, Lucas cannot decide if he is bothered by the absence of news from his brother or not. He did not help Connor escape. He was unable to do anything but stand there, gaping, as the Juvey-cops loaded Connor into a car and drove him away to die. He has wondered, before, if he would have any idea if Connor was still on the lam at all. 

Maybe one day he would walk home after school and meet somebody with Connor’s eyes. He wouldn’t realize the pupils belonged to his brother until one of the eyelids unconsciously winked at him. A last laugh from beyond the knife. Such a Connor thing to do that Lucas can’t believe it hasn’t already happened.

Lucas wants to believe that he’s on Connor’s mind as much as Connor’s on his, but the worst part is, even Lucas can’t believe it’s true. It’s Connor’s world, always has been. Connor Lassiter is in the eye of this world-shattering hurricane, all gusty winds and rushing floods. Everyone around him gets caught up in the current, but there’s no room for anyone else to matter. Even supposedly dead, even on the run, even unwound, they are in Connor’s storm, not the other way around. Even alive, Lucas still isn’t the Lassiter that matters the most.

He should hate it. He does, maybe, but the guilt comes trickling in around the edges of his anger and Lucas starts remembering when he looked up to his brother like a god. On his knees, begging for the effortlessly cool outlaw to glance at him sideways. Just young enough to stop getting on Connor’s radar unless they were right in front of each other. Old enough to know he’d never catch up even if he started running with all his might. Lucas is Lucas. Connor is the Akron AWOL. There’s no beating that.

Lucas goes to bed that night and wonders if any of this will ever be over. There’s no freeing himself from the tidal wave of Connor’s reputation. He’ll die, maybe, or he’ll age out. Lucas wonders if Connor will ever come back to spit in his face or curse him out or just say goodbye for good this time. Maybe Lucas will slam the door. Or he’ll listen. Or they’ll never speak again. Brothers like them aren’t meant to last, and they haven’t by now. Stranded on opposite sides of the country. Feels like they’re on opposite ends of the earth. The Lassiters are gone. Maybe Connor will remain. Lucas is gone already.

He glances at his phone one last time before he closes his eyes and is rewarded with a fresh headline. Akron AWOL seen near Ohio. Lucas can’t even open it. He screams into his pillow, raw and guttural, then snaps his eyes shut and falls asleep like that. When he wakes the next morning, he finds that he’s still cradling his phone as if it were someone real. Someone important. 

Like a brother. 

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

all tags list: @wordsarelife

[luvvsoft]

THANK U SM FOR THAT CONNOR FIC it made my whole month fr now i feel complete.

anyways i’m here to suggest another idea 😝😝 enemies to lovers somehow. ur writing style could make it work it’s just too good

pairing: connor lassiter x reader

contains: angst + fluff, enemies to lovers, rivalries, some violence, jealousy, mutual pining but you’re both too stubborn to admit it

word count: 2.9k

author’s notes: tysm for the request<3 i hope its what you wanted !

also, thank you to ml @salaimoi for helping me write the kissing scene ! <3

You were simple, as simple as a teenager could get. You liked going outside, drawing, reading, all things people around your age did. Maybe you were too simple sometimes but it wasn’t a bad thing.

Your parents thought otherwise though. Costs of living were going up: food, clothing, housing, everything. They were forced to make hard choices, and when push came to shove, they signed your unwind order. An order that would take away all your rights — primarily your right to live as a whole human being.

Cry as you tried, scream as you tried, nothing would get them to change their mind. In the end, they stayed firm on their decision, deciding you out of all your 6 siblings, were to go.

You were forced to bow your head and accept your fate. There was nothing you could do but give in, or at least that’s what you thought until Roland convinced you otherwise. Roland, who was one of your closest friends, was also sent to be unwind when he retaliated against his mother’s boyfriend.

At least you wouldn’t be alone in your final moments. Your final moments wouldn’t come as fast as you thought though.

“Roland, what are you doing?” you asked as you saw him packing a bag.

“Changing my fate. Now, come with me.”

Roland had made the rash decision to run from his fate, and you, scared of being alone, went with him. You would face all that was to come together. You just weren’t ready for what that meant.

Your “small” detour brought you to Sonia’s basement, a kind old lady who took in AWOLs. For her you were glad; she sheltered and fed you, what more could you ask for?

It would seem Roland wasn’t satisfied with that. He thirsted for more, never being satisfied with what he had. You didn’t always understand his motives, but you stayed by his side, acting as a right hand for him.

He slowly rose up, being a voice for the kids and taking control of the situation. No one challenged it, they simply didn’t care enough or were too scared. Of course they would be, Roland was big, buff, scary: a person someone rational wouldn’t mess with. But, the coming of a girl and a boy changed that.

The boy dared to challenge Roland, starting a rivalry that seemed to heat up the room whenever they were near each other. Connor, as you learned, was impulsive, worse than Roland, and seemed to care too much about the girl who came with him. The girl, Risa, was someone Roland used to toy with Connor. Roland tried pinning her in the restroom once, flirting with her, trying to get close to her, all in order to get Connor angry and irrational. It worked sometimes, other times it didn’t.

Roland was difficult, wanting full influence over the basement kids. Connor, on the other hand, wanted Roland to back off. This power struggle between them erupted in many ways, oftentimes leading you to intervene, and others to get caught in the crossfire.

It was late, too late to deal with Roland being a pain in the ass. You should have expected this, of course he would pull something deep in the night. He was messing with Risa, and now, Connor was pissed off, leading them into a stand off.

You only came to know of this when one of the little kids woke you up, whispering “Roland and Connor are at it again.” You were forced to get up after that, once again having to settle their nonsense.

It was definitely too late to be dealing with Roland. You didn’t get paid enough for this (or at all).

When you arrived at where they were in the kitchen, you saw Connor hiding Risa behind him, while Roland stood across from him with his arms crossed and a smirk lining his lips. You could see Connor’s rage boiling in his eyes, threatening to erupt and burn everything around him, including his friend. You took that as your cue to intervene.

As Connor was about to open his mouth, you stepped in, “Do you guys really have to do this so late?”

All three of them turned, not even surprised at your appearance. They knew this would happen, it was a routine at this point.

“I didn’t do anything, simply wanted something to eat,” Roland said, keeping the smug look on his face, which only seemed to irritate Connor more.

You sighed, you didn’t get enough sleep to deal with this. “Come on, Roland,” you said as you walked over to him and pulled him by his arm, walking away.

You shot Risa a look on your way out, silently telling her to deal with Connor and calm him down before he scared the other kids.

“You need to learn to leave them alone, it’s annoying dealing with this drama this late at night,” you scolded Roland as you left the kitchen, heading to the sleeping area.

Roland didn’t say much at first, settling with an “I barely touched her.”

“You know anything you do sets him off, he’s like a fuse waiting to blow, and you’re not helping.”

Back in the kitchen, while Risa tried to calm Connor down, he thought about you — about how you chose to involve yourself with someone like Roland. He was sure you were no better than him, maybe worse than Roland, as you tried to act sweet.

Sweet you were, he was sure you made cavities grow on everyone’s teeth. He saw how you tended to the kids, how you patched up people when needed, how you made new kids feel welcomed and at home. It led him to wonder how you ended up at Roland’s side, highly treasured by him. He could understand why Roland kept you close, you were like caramel, sweet and inviting, even your lips were inviting him to press a soft kiss on them.

Connor shook his head, he shouldn’t be thinking of you that way. You were someone to be thought of as an enemy, someone he couldn’t align himself with. He had to hate you.

Time passed, and you all stayed the same. Roland and Connor squabbled, while Risa and you tried to stop them. The kids were lively, not as much as before though.

Soon enough, you’d end up stuffed in boxes, being shipped somewhere no one knew. It was a long trip, and your circumstances didn’t help. You were, unluckily, forced into a box with Connor and 2 other boys.

It was dark inside the box, but someone kept their gaze on you, staring daggers through you. You were sure it was Connor, why wouldn’t it be? You knew being friends with Roland would lead you two to be enemies by association.

You sighed, it would be a long trip after all.

Connor, on the other hand, tried to distract himself from your presence by talking to the other boys in the box. It was always nice to make friends, especially if they’re be in there for however long. They’d try to involve you in the conversation, but you didn’t respond much, opting to keep to yourself.

You were strange, Connor thought. He didn’t understand you try as he might, which only led him to more questions about you and your motives. How’d you end up here? How’d you end up stuck to Roland’s side? How’d someone like you be sent to be unwind?

As much as Connor wanted to voice these questions outside of his head, he knew he couldn’t. It was strange to talk to you, you only gave short answers to anyone but Roland. He wondered if you and Roland had something else going on.

Thinking of Roland only seemed to make him tense and anger to vibrate inside the box. He was losing himself in his thoughts about Roland till he felt a hand on his arm. A soft, warm hand that interrupted his thoughts, and made his mind dizzy and his head cloudy.

“Calm down,” he heard from a voice in the dark: your voice. The voice he longed to hear. Connor settled his thoughts and tried to turn to you, sitting across from him. He couldn’t see you in the darkness, but he could feel your warmth. It was comforting.

“Thank you,” Connor whispered, as he felt your hand retreat back into yourself. He was weirdly disappointed by it, though he tried not to show it.

It was only hours later that movement stopped and someone opened the crate they were in, letting sunlight in and rushing them to get out. It was chaotic and loud, airplanes could be heard and seen everywhere, along with tons of kids.

Connor learned later on they were in the Graveyard, and were to reside there until they turned 17 or they managed to get them fake identities. It was a new setting, but they didn’t have to live in fear of being unwound and think out their next plan to survive.

After, Connor looked for Risa, instead finding you and Roland alone. He didn’t know why, but his blood boiled at the sight of you and Roland hugging. He could hear you asking him if he was okay and if he was injured.

Connor hated you. He was sure he did, yet why did this feeling arise when you were near Roland? Why did he feel like he was suffocating when you got too close and clutched onto Roland like your life depended on it?

He couldn’t be jealous, no. He couldn’t bring himself to admit that he was actually jealous of Roland. He couldn’t admit that he wished you were hugging him and not Roland. Connor, not knowing how to deal with these feelings, instead chose to distract himself with other things, like helping kids around the Graveyard and being the Admiral’s helper.

Eventually, everyone got acclimated to their new environment. Every kid had a job to do, with you being in the infirmary. It seemed like the best option since you were used to patching up your siblings and kids in Sonia’s basement. It wasn’t everyday Connor came though.

“Alright, all you needed was some alcohol and a bandage. Don’t worry dear, you’ll be fine to play, just be careful,” you said as you finished tending to a little girl who scraped her knees. She got up, thanking you and then leaving.

You looked at the time, lunch was soon and you were starving. You had no time to eat this morning, and your mouth threatened to water at the thought of food.

As you were tidying up and getting ready to leave, the door slammed open and revealed Connor, an injured Connor, to be precise.

“Connor?? What happened, are you okay? Come and sit here,” you said as you hurried to get supplies for him.

The injury looked deep and was bleeding a lot, you definitely wouldn’t be eating any time soon.

Connor looked out of it, so you grabbed him and sat him down, pressing a warm cloth to the wound. He hissed, murmuring a small ow before settling.

“I’m sorry, bear with it for now while I try to find some stitches,” you whispered to him.

You found them, taking a small second to “Aha!” yourself before returning to his side. You took the cloth, and instead tried to disinfect the area around the wound, “How did this happen?”

“I wasn’t careful enough, I got distracted by someone else and dropped a part of the airplane on my arm,” Connor whispered, opening his eyes and staring straight at you.

“Hm, be more careful. I’m gonna try to stitch it now.”

Connor looked at you while you worked; you looked focused, your eyebrows furrowed as you worked to stitch up his wound. He liked your facial expressions, they were full of life. He saw a piece of your hair slide down and cover one of your eyes, moving it with his other hand.

“Thank you,” you murmured, continuing on with what you were doing.

Once you were done, you stood up straight, and looked right into his eyes, “You’re done now, good job. Try not to strain that arm and don’t put pressure on it okay?”

He nodded, thanking you. You moved away so he could stand up, but he stayed. Connor grabbed your arm, pulling you back in front of him and almost making you fall on him in the process.

“What are you doin—“ he cut you off in the middle of your sentence and brought you closer.

“I like your eyes. They shine like the sun, so bright and glowy,” Connor said before getting up and leaving. Leaving you with your swirling thoughts. He was confusing.

What he said stayed in your head, leading to many thoughts you knew you shouldn’t have.

His eyes had stared deep into you, making you feel like he could see into your soul. His hands were calloused, yet soft at the same time. You wondered what it would be like to hold them close to your face at night.

You knew you shouldn’t think of him that way, but you couldn’t stop it. The little acts he did tricked your mind into thinking what it would be like to be his.

You used the newly brought piano as a way to distract your mind from Connor. You played a few tunes when you were a normal kid, and not an AWOL.

The piano keys felt familiar under the pads of your fingers, inviting you to play. It was dark and everyone was asleep, so you saw no harm in losing yourself in the music.

You pressed one key, then another and another, till you started remembering a tune you played frequently for your friends. You vividly started to remember when you played for a school concert, in front of your mother and father for the first time, and when you played just for Roland.

You missed your old life. It was a life full of love and friends. It might have been mundane, but it was something you grew accustomed to — something that comforted you. Now your life was full of fear and paranoia, impeded by that Unwind Order. You longed for times to return to how they were, simple yet fun.

While you played and thought about your old life, Connor thought about you. He was laying in bed when he heard the piano. He thought it was Risa at first, but he knew she’d be asleep at this time. Regardless, there could be a chance that it was, so he got up and went to the courtyard.

There Connor didn’t see Risa, instead he saw you, playing the piano with tears streaming down your eyes. He stayed there, waiting for you to finish. He busied himself with admiring you, taking a moment to look at all your features from the shadows of your face to the curve of your lips while you played.

You suddenly stopped, spotting him, “Connor?” You wiped your tears and stood up, getting ready to apologize for waking him.

“I like when you play; it’s like listening to an angel’s melody. You should play more often,” he said, stepping closer to you.

“Ah, thank you, and I’m sorry for waking you up.”

“Dance with me if you’re really sorry.” Connor held out his hand, waiting for you to take it.

You didn’t deny him that, and took his hand. He immediately pulled you closer, while his other arm came and wrapped around your waist. He then started swaying with you despite there being no music.

Connor could feel your breath on his, it intoxicated him. He was sure your presence was his drug. He could feel the way your hand grabbed onto his shoulder, while the other was intertwined with his own hand.

“Why are you doing this?” you took a moment to ask Connor as he spun you around.

“Doing what?”

“Dancing with me, telling me these things, complimenting me; it messes with my brain.”

“Because I like you.”

You pulled away from him, flashing him a shocked face, “What?”

“I mean it, I really do feel something for you. Even if you’re friends with Roland, I don’t care. It makes me feel jealous and angry when you’re close to him. I want to be the one you hug and patch up, not him,” Connor said as he pulled you closer to him and cupped your face in his hands.

“Really? You mean it? Tell me you mean it please, Connor,” you said as you brought your hand up to his, and caressed his hand.

“I mean it, I promise. Let me prove to you I do.”

The room was devoid of sound, but when his lips finally met yours at last, you swore you could hear a million different melodies being sung. An angelic tune rang in your ear, erasing the uncertainness that plagued your minds beforehand.

His lips latched onto yours, his tongue seeking entry almost immediately in a desperate search. Your tongues danced to a certain rhythm, a perfect translation from your dance movements from a moment ago.

You were finally his, and he was finally yours.

[itsatigersharkidiot]

she akron on my awol til’ my connor go lassiter

[itsatigersharkidiot]

lasso tool connor and risa (this was so painful to dooo)

[itsatigersharkidiot]

chudnor lass(hole)iter

[itsatigersharkidiot]

Connor Lassiter, a year ago vs today!

If you think that your art won’t get better, trust me it will. As long as you practice, you can get so far and way better. This improvement didn’t take a day, it took a whole year. And look where I am now.

So keep practicing! 😋

[heliads]

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

ANYWAYS ILY u survived exams i’m so proud !

'angel ex machina ' - connor lassiter

masterlist

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

We have guardian angels! Low prices, high protection! 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I care,” Y/N offers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Y/N nods. “I am.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Y/N’s eyes dart up to his. “Really?”

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

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

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

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

requested by @julysn, i hope you enjoy!

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

all tags list: @wordsarelife