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yespolkadotkitty · 4 years

Text

Take What You Need

A special treat for the lovely @keeper0fthestars - a flimsy excuse to get railed into next week by Francisco Morales.

Warnings: SMUT. Porn with a flimsy nod to plot. Word count: 2300

Thanking @alwaysbethewest and @songsformonkeys for the beta!!

“All right! You heard the man, wheels up in thirty!” Redfly shouted across the small airfield. “Catch some sleep, eat, do whatever, but I want us all in that helo, in thirty.”

“Copy that,” Pope shouted back, heading off towards the thick bushes surrounding the hangar and aircraft. Ironhead followed, probably to try and talk some sense into him. Ironhead had always been the most sensible of you all.

In fact, it was William who had spoken up for you when Pope suggested you come along.

“She’s good with a rifle,” Ironhead said calmly. “And her Spanish is decent. Way better’n mine and Benny’s, anyways.”

Redfly - the infuriatingly traditional conservative middle-class American man - had ummed and aahed, and you knew it was because you had a vagina.

But here you were, and you’d taken out two of Lorea’s guys from the roof with your rifle, so Redfly could suck your metaphorical dick.

The man in question loped back to the other side of the airfield, towards Pope’s informant, and started to talk to her about something.

“This is a clusterfuck of epic proportions.”

You turned at that voice. A little raspy, a little husky-edged, it sent a shiver up your spine. Always had, and probably always would.

Francisco Morales shook his head when you turned to look at him. His ballcap - dirty, soft - was pulled down low over his head. Hair the colour of milk chocolate curled out from underneath it. He met your gaze, and his own hazelnut eyes were so, so tired.

“It could’ve gone better,” you agreed, letting your eyes trail down his long, lean frame - a little soft in the middle, but you’d always liked his tummy.

Francisco - Catfish to you all, because during special ops training, he’d caught one almost the size of himself - was an enigma of a man. Soft, sometimes. Hard, sometimes.

You’d known him five years now, and during that time you’d seen him pull the trigger a foot from a man’s head without wincing, and you’d seen him comfort a three year old girl left homeless in a war zone, his voice soft, his touch gentle. The yin and yang of him fit, somehow.

Catfish scoffed. “Not sure how it could’ve gone any fucking worse.” He ripped off his cap, and your eyes were drawn to a deep cut on his cheek.

“What’s this?” You automatically reached up to touch his face. His tanned skin was rough under your fingers as you traced the edges of the healing wound. “It might scar.”

Francisco grunted. “Like that’s a concern right now.”

You grinned, dropped your hand. “It’ll be sexy. The scar, I mean.”

“You think?” He laughed without humour, wrung his cap in his hand, and you saw how drawn his starkly handsome face was, the patchy scruff around his jawline grey in places. God, had you thought about kissing that almost-beard, stroking your fingers over his bristly chin. “I wish being sexy was what worried me most. I’m fuckin’ losing my shit here. The scales are off the charts, the helo will never make it to the ocean-” he swore a stream in Spanish, and stuffed his hat back on. The frustration steamed off him in waves.

“Fish.” You braced your hands on his shoulders, looked up into his face, twisted with anger and fear. “We’ll be okay. We’ve had worse than this.”

“Yeah, but we’ve never had worse with you,” he bit off, shrugging off your touch and pacing away, shoving his cap back on, his hair curling at the edges. “Jesus fucking Christ, if anything happens to you, I’ll-”

“Fish!” You shout to be heard over the noise of the aircraft prep, the wind, the sound of Redfly and Pope’s informant arguing. “Nothing will happen to me. You saw me take out Lorea’s guys. And I saved your ass on that mission in Istanbul.”

Francisco shifted, adopting that hands-on-hips stance he always did when he was thinking. “I know.”

“Then what? I’m not a porcelain doll, Francisco.”

And you saw it. His eyes went hot when you used his full name. Hot and sort of.. Dark. Like he wanted to drag you into that hangar and bend you against the corrugated metal wall and rail you into next week.

And boy, you’d let him.

“What?” you challenged. He needed this release. Whether it was shouting at you or whether you wrestled until the fight had gone out of him, he could not fly that helo with your lives and that money at stake in such a state.

He muttered something in Spanish. Your command of the language was very good but his voice was pitched too low for you to make out the syllables.

“Oh, you wanna go?” You lifted your fists in a mock fighting stance. “You ever hit a girl, Morales?”

“There’s always a first time,” he gritted out humourlessly.

You danced around, goading him. “Maybe you’re afraid I’d kick your ass.”

Fish scoffed, and you could see the tension in his shoulders, in the line of his back. He was a loaded powder keg, seconds from a bloody explosion from the heat, the stress, the shooting. “Stop it.”

“Make me.”

You saw the moment his eyes changed - went dark again, and you turned, running for the hangar.

You heard him bark out a laugh as he pursued you, his long legs eating up the terrain. You ran flat out, reaching the hangar in under a minute, Fish hot on your heels. The minute he barrelled through the door you slammed it behind him.

“What the fuck?” he asked, confusion parading over his face - somehow even more alluring when he was dirty, tired, stressed.

You yanked him close and kissed him. It was the first time, and all the times you’d thought about kissing him, an inaurgural kiss, it was never like this. It was in your shitty home town, under some trees, or under the bleachers of the old high school, or by moonlight at the drive-in.

It took a second, and then Francisco was kissing you back, his lips fierce, hard, the kiss almost painful in its intensity. He tasted of terrible coffee and the beef jerky you’d all forced down, and you licked into his mouth, tangling your tongue with his, and the flavour of his little groan was divine.

“We don’t have long,” he whispered harshly. “What - what do you want?”

Your breath was coming in pants. He smelled of clean sweat, the outdoors, and the spring rain, and you were wetter than you’d ever been. This close to Catfish, you couldn’t cope with the well of desire, too long ignored. “You can’t fly us like this, Fish. In this state.”

His hands clenched on your hips. “What?”

“Relieve the pressure.” You slid a hand down his body, cupped him, felt his erection like steel in velvet. Your blood fired. “For us both.”

“Shit.” Francisco leaned down, rested his forehead against yours. “I’ve fucking dreamed of this. But not… not like this, like you’re a cheap fuck. You’re not. You’re… everything.”

The words shook you, and you pressed your lips to his, drinking him in, loving him, like you’d loved him nearly five years, and always been afraid to rock the boat.

Well, now the boat had run aground and it was time.

“You can show me that when we’re safely back on American soil, soldier. For now…” you yanked him close again, pressed your palm to his cock. “Take what you need. Give me what I need.”

“Fuck,” he bit off, and then he was kissing you like a starving man falling upon a banquet, all tongues and teeth and Frankie, and you pressed as close to him as you could.

“How long do we have?” you panted out.

He shot his cuffs, checked his watch. “Quarter hour.”

“Then make every minute count, Morales.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he breathed. And he got on his knees in front of you, pulling at your jeans.

Your heart leapt into your chest at the first brush of his breath on your bare legs. Frankie rolled the denim down, ghosted a kiss over your underwear.

“You would not believe, baby, how often I’ve jacked off to the thought of having you,” he whispered.

“Fish, if you don’t do something, I swear to God…”

He took off his cap, passed it to you. “Wear this for me.” After you slapped it on your head, he pulled your hand back down, thrust it into his hair. You tugged him close as he yanked your underwear down and proceeded to fucking feast on you.

You’d never experienced Frankie like this. Near feral, his tongue licking at you like you were his last meal, his favourite food, a longed-for treat. He used his hands - hands you’ve wished were on you, inside you - to spread you so he could spear his tongue inside you, nip at your clit, write his name with his tongue, whatever the fuck he was doing, it felt like Heaven.

“Stop. Stop,” you whined, pushing at his hair. “Want to come with you inside me.”

He looked up, those cocoa eyes dark and hot and irresistible, and then he was on his feet in a hot second, and he spun you around to face the wall.

“Hold on to something, baby,” he muttered against your neck before he sank his teeth into the sensitive skin at your pulse point, the tiny hurt only making you wetter.

The sound of his belt buckle being undone and the shove of the denim down his thighs was loud to your ears.

“Please,” you gritted out, arching your back.

Frankie slid a palm down your naked butt, and you heard the growl in his voice when he said, “Sweet girl. When we get back on US soil….” And then he positioned himself and slid home in one smooth, hard thrust, and you gripped the hangar wall hard and cried out at the pleasure and the stretch. He kept going until he bottomed out, curses in English and Spanish falling from his lips in that husky baritone made for pure sin, and then as you groaned in satisfaction, he curled a hand around to your front and rubbed you in maddening circles.

“We don’t have long,” you warned, muscles already fluttering.

“Fuck. Won’t take long. You feel too good. You’re so fucking tight. How - how do you-”

“Fast and hard,” you instructed, and you felt him twitch inside you at your words, heard his moan. “I wanna feel you tomorrow, Francisco.”

“Oh fuck,” he grated out, and then he pulled almost all the way out before slamming back in. The force was just what you needed, and you cried out at the wonderful pressure, the push of him inside you, the texture and shape of him. Better, harder, larger than you had imagined.

You spread your legs as much as you could given the denim around your calves, and Frankie fucks you hard, keeping one hand on your hip and the other at the apex of your body, strumming you expertly.

“Wish we had more fucking time,” he rasped into your hair, pressing a frantic kiss there. “Sweet girl. You feel like heaven. Always.. Knew.. you would.”

“The things I’m gonna to do you when we get home,” you shot back, and pressed your hips into him. “Oh God, more, please.”

He upped the tempo, and the sound of your bodies slapping together was obscene. His fingers circled your clit once, twice more, and you flew off that sweet cliff edge, crying out his name and burying your face in your elbow to muffle the sound.

Frankie’s hips faltered as he gave you all he had, thrusting into you at a punishing pace before his hips stuttered.

“Two minute warning!” Ironhead yelled from outside.

“I want to feel you come inside me, Fish,” you whispered over your shoulder.

“Fuck.” And he tumbled over the precipice too, hips shaking. You felt him jerk inside you, felt the hot surge of his climax, and he pressed down hard on your clit, triggering another little orgasm for you, too.

“Jesus. Fuck.” Frankie leant his forehead on your back, panting. “Christ.”

“You gotta get some more swear words, Morales,” you said, but your breath hitched too, and you wiggled your hips, making him shiver.

He pulled out, zipped up, and then took care putting your clothes in order. When he tugged you close for a kiss, you tasted yourself.

“First fucking chance I get,” Frankie rasped, his lips in your hair, “I’m gonna take my sweet time doing everything I want to you. With you.”

“Then get us over those mountains, Francisco, and I’m yours.” You nip at his bottom lip, then sprang apart when Redfly yanked open the hangar door.

“Fuck’s sake, Fish, we thought you’d gone AWOL. It’s go time.”

“Copy that,” Frankie shot back. You let him leave first, glanced down to admire his ass in those jeans.

And you thought, with single-minded determination: We just need to get over these mountains. Then Francisco Morales would be all yours.

Redfly looked at his departing back and then turned to you, eyes narrowed. “Why are you wearing Fish’s hat?”

****

Tagging the Pedro pals: @emmy-dandiliom918 @thirstworldproblemss @cinewhore @poenariuniverse @keeper0fthestars @scarlettvonsass @casually-introverted @knittingqueen13 @phoenixhalliwell @10-96dispatcher @buckstaposition @agirllovespasta @songsformonkeys @gamingaquarius @mstgsmy @synystersilenceinblacknwhite @dornish-queen @maxphillipswasright @winters-buck @mourningbirds1 @pascalitomorales @mrsparknuts @alldatalost @abuttoncalledsmalls @mrschiltoncat @auty-ren @heatherbel

it’s 10.45pm my brain has failed if I left you off I apologize!!

#catfish x fem!reader #frankie morales x fem!reader

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taaroko · 3 years

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Kid Loki fic: Love Is a Dagger

Loki spoilers through episode five!

Summary: Loki and Sylvie have made it past Alioth thanks to Old Loki's sacrifice. Three more people Kid Loki has lost, but he's pretty much used to it by now.

Between "I killed Thor," Old Loki fulfilling his glorious purpose, Lokigator being the absolute goodest boy, and that glimpse we got of Mjolnir and Throg, "Journey into Mystery" left me feeling very inspired. I hope you like it!

Word count: 1131 Characters: Kid Loki, Lokigator, Throg

(Here’s the Ao3 link, or you can read it here.)

Loki should have helped them. He should’ve gone back when the old man did, but he was too afraid. He’d been running from Alioth for what felt like half his life—just the sort of existence he deserved after what he’d done.

“Hah! You fell for it! ...Thor? Thor! Stop it! The dagger was only a joke! Brother, get up!”

His throat grew tight and he scrubbed the back of a hand over his eyes. He bent down and picked up the battered helmet that was all that remained of the old man. Alligator Loki let out a wailing growl.

“I know,” said Loki. “I’m going to miss him too.” He’d met dozens of versions of himself down here, and he would be happy if he never saw most of them again, but the old man had been a friend. They’d looked after each other, and he didn’t treat Loki like a helpless child. The two new ones hadn’t been so bad either. He hoped they succeeded, wherever they were now.

“Come on. We shouldn’t stay here in the open.”

He got an inquisitive growl in reply.

“If they haven’t already killed each other, yeah.” He wasn’t deeply attached to the bunker where they’d been staying, but it was as decent a place as any to stay safe from Alioth. They could at least check to see whether the other Lokis were still there. Maybe set a trap in case they tried to come back.

They trudged across the fields of detritus. Alligator Loki got tired of walking before long and let Loki carry him. Loki didn’t mind. A lot of new things had fallen here since the last time he’d been out this way. He decided to have a look in case he could use any of it, which would give the other Lokis time to finish each other off if they were still fighting.

He found a functioning vehicle that looked like it could handle rough terrain pretty well and some interesting circuitry he might be able to rig to explode. Alligator Loki found an entire refrigerator full of meat that was still edible. Loki shrugged and heaved it onto his shoulder to load into the back of the vehicle. Once it was secure, he was about to ask if they should call it a day when he heard a quiet sound nearby. Like muffled croaking and something tinkling against glass. Alligator Loki looked up from the pieces of meat he’d been making short work of, a bit of one still dangling from the side of his mouth.

“I’m not sure,” said Loki. He held a finger to his lips, ducked down low, and conjured a dagger. They approached the source of the sounds slowly. Nothing jumped out at them to attack, and the sounds led them to a small ridge of rubbish. Loki looked at Alligator Loki, who nodded his big snout. Loki braced himself, then leapt out from behind the ridge.

There was nobody there. He frowned and looked down. His eyes widened and the dagger vanished from his hand. “Mjolnir?” he said. He had only seen the warhammer once before, when Father had shown him and Thor the relics in the Vault. According to stories he’d heard from other Lokis, the hammer was meant to be Thor’s, if he lived long enough to wield it.

Loki wished he hadn’t come this way. He could handle the endless copies of himself, but a Thor? He’d sooner let Alioth catch him than face one.

“Brother, please wake up! I didn’t mean it I swear!”

“Let’s get out of here.”

Alligator Loki didn’t move. He made an odd chirruping sound and bumped a glass jar with his nose. This resulted in a series of frantic croaks and ribbets. Curiosity overcoming his desire to leave, Loki grabbed the jar. Inside was a frog dressed in a winged helmet and full armor. Royal Asgardian armor.

He froze while the frog continued to beat webbed fists against the glass. Alligator Loki swiped at Loki’s foot and yipped impatiently. Heart pounding, Loki twisted the lid off the jar and reached in to scoop out the angry frog. The moment his fingers touched the slimy skin, he received a moderate zap of electricity—bad enough to be slightly painful but nowhere near enough to do real damage. “Hey!” he protested. The frog hopped out of the jar and landed on Mjolnir, still croaking angrily and stamping his webbed feet.

Alligator Loki lost what remained of his patience and bit Loki lightly on the leg. It was obvious what he wanted. Loki shouldn’t do it. He should run straight for the new vehicle and get as far away as he could. The ache in his chest wouldn’t let him. He raised a hand and felt for the enchantment around the frog. It wasn’t a spell he’d ever personally cast, but shapeshifting was easy, and apparently doing it to someone else wasn’t that much different. It took him a few minutes to study the spell. He found the loose threads of seidr in it and pulled. Green light engulfed the frog, and then a blond adolescent boy was standing in front of him.

“It’s about time you undid your stupid spell!” he shouted, his face bright red. “Were you really that jealous Father gave me Mjolnir that you had to ruin—” He broke off. “Are you crying, Loki?”

Tears were indeed pouring down Loki’s face. He fell to the ground and pulled his knees tight to his chest. “I’m sorry, Thor,” he said, his voice cracking horribly. “I’m so sorry.” Why was he being so stupid? It wasn’t even his Thor!

“I’m very glad you’re sorry for turning me into a frog,” said Thor, “but Loki, what’s going on? Why do you look two hundred years younger than you did this morning? Where are we? Why’s there a little alligator in a horned helmet hugging my leg?”

Loki wiped his eyes and accepted the hand Thor was holding out, letting himself get pulled to his feet. He stared up at Thor’s earnest, confused face. He was at least a foot taller than the Thor Loki remembered, and his hands and feet were far too big for the rest of him, but he was looking at him just the same as he always had. Suddenly it didn’t matter to Loki that this wasn’t his Thor. (And judging from the way Alligator Loki’s mouth was hanging open in a silly grin, it didn’t matter to him either.) “I can explain everything,” he said, “but it’s going to take a while and we need to get somewhere safe first.”

Thor bent to pick up Mjolnir (the weight of it made him sway a little; he obviously wasn’t used to it yet) and beamed at Loki. “Lead the way, Brother.”

I can't believe I made myself cry writing about a character who's only had ten minutes of screentime. I love this show.

This is most likely staying a one-shot, since I'm already 200K+ words deep into my other alternate timeline Brodinsons fic and it does not need competition for my creative energy, but it miiiiight end up being a couple chapters longer, because there are one or two more things I'd like them to do, especially if the final episode doesn't do anything else with Kid Loki.

#kid loki #brodinsons #throg #lokigator #loki series #loki spoilers #loki #thor #loki fanfiction

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lime-gutz · 3 years

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The mercs with a SO with telekinetic abilities? Kinda like Stephen King’s Carrie White ( can usually control it but sometimes will go into a trance and cause all sorts of anarchy when horribly overwhelmed) If you don’t want to do all of them how about medic, scout, and spy :3

OOOOOOO okay that concept sounds really fucking interesting. As we all know the tf2 universe is wack as hell and so like, yeah this concept..

Let's get general hcs out of the way before going into specifics with each of the 3 to give everyone a better understanding of like...my thought process??? (I'll mention the other ones in passing through this but I'll be focusing on the specific 3 you've given me).

I imagine if there was such a 10th class, one that is telekinetic, I'll be calling them the Telepath as their class name, I assume would have gotten such an ability through means of. Well. Obviously telekinesis is very not normal so this could go lots of ways, taking into account that you mention specifically causing anarchy when overwhelmed/experiencing a breakdown I wanna be fun and say the Telepath got this ability in the form of a curse. (For what? Idk have fun with deciding, I'd like to hear!)

I would like to say they've been experiencing this curse for years of their life and had grown old enough with it to the point of knowing how to keep such an ability in check as, when not doing that it could lead to dire consequences. That being in the form of a completely wrecked house or general surroundings.

So by the time they were employed as a mercenary they are well fitted with the knowledge of how they know it works, how they personally deal with it, how far this ability can really go as in they know their limits, and how to control/keep themselves in check as to not break anything..doesn't mean that absolutely nothing happens of course but for the most part, is able to keep things unbroken.

Now, with that out of the way, let's get into the 3 specific mercs you've picked for me to talk about.

Medic:

(General)

You had his attention ever since he read the words "Telekinetic" on your papers that were given for him to observe any medical records! He was excited to meet you..and experiment on/with you specifically. No doctor just has patients with telekinesis!! He's most definitely going to take every opportunity he can to run experiments on you to see just how much the difference goes between you and just a normal human subject.

Practically bouncing on the heels of his feet, his hand lightly shaking under your firm hold of a handshake, an unsettling grin on his features as you both shook has when you first met but..again! He was excited and eager to start whenever he can with the experiments he has planned.

Insanely talkative with you during said experiments. He gets like this when he's eager to devour any knowledge and experience he can get his bloodied hands on..and talking helps him think more. He can talk about just. Super casual things that has nothing to do with what he's doing or talking about what he's doing in the moment (although you're not sure if it's for your sake or if it's just a habit he does for himself.)

Finds it absolutely rejuvenating to watch you fight on the field. You're really something! It's glorious to see your telekinesis abilities in action, while your abilities can only do so much, the much it could do was such a sight! Ohoho!! How you can break enemy bones, their blood decorating the hot sandy grounds of the desert, how you can use the rough terrain to your advantage and gain the upper hand..You're thrilling to watch.

While he can see some restraint on your part when it comes to keeping your emotions in check the best way you possibly can, (as he is well aware of what can come of you becoming wildly overwhelmed) He still chooses to work with you more on how to better your ways of doing so...better??

He's not the most patient man, not by a wide margin or patient in any sense of the word, he has to understand that it also wouldn't be wise to just. Fly off the handle when getting frustrated with you in particular for whatever reason as doing so would result in a completely wrecked base. He keeps this in mind because once they've all experienced such an attack its not really something that you can really forget ya know? That's not to say he's softer with you when talking to you or being less blunt but he can show some restraint on his own emotions just a bit for you.

(Romantic)

-apologies if the telekinetics aren't really talked about here, I feel like overall telekinetics are used more so on the battle field and not for everything the Telepath does

Realizes that overall, you've done a good job managing yourself when it comes to being grounded and staying calm in situations where he could even say he probably wouldn't be as calm. Accompany this with you willingly working with him to find perhaps even better solutions to better dealing with it and you then gain just a bit of admiration on the "doctor's" part.

I view Medic as someone who's generally more willing to let looser when he's around someone he's particularly close with. More fun, less...serious if you will?? Sure he's generally jovial and not serious, but I imagine he's even more so when around company he actually enjoys being around so it's no surprise it's what he started doing with you if you both actually gained a bit of a friendship.

It's a common occurrence to see you both messing with each other in a playful manner, nothing downright cruel or mean, just playful. Ex. When he tries the "Ohoho! You can't possibly reach what you're wanting! Look at how short you are compared to me!" Being a tall man and holding something out of your reach to which using your telepathetic abilities you're able to slip said thing out of his hands quite easily, which leaves the man chuckling as he means it all in good fun.

If you're sitting there like "wtf I want some soft stuff too give it to me you bitch" I reply "okay man mfuck" and give you the softer stuff like, right now. Never fails to get a small smile out of him if you were to use your telekinetics to just brush a stray hair our of his face and smooth it back in place to keep his hair neat. Or if you use it to push his spectacles gently back on his face correctly and no longer crooked on his nose.

Enjoys just the simple touches such as you hooking his arm with yours as he works for a little bit if the work he's doing doesn't require a lot of movement, or just a simple kiss to his cheeks and nose..maybe a peck to his lips if he's busy with something. Not to say he doesn't enjoy more lingering touches when he's not horribly busy however!

Quite enjoys laying his head against yours and leaning some of his body weight onto yours and you doing the same back to him as to balance the both of you out into something more comfortable. He finds that your presence is good to have while he works, helps him feel down to earth and less tightly wrapped in his spiels of thoughts.

Scout:

(General)

Finds that your presence and abilities are both handy on field, although he insists you're not as good as him..he's not gonna not give you credit for how utterly fucking cool it is to see someone use something that resembles literal super powers!! But! He also finds your skills useful for playing any tricks on an unsuspecting teammate...if you're in on it of course, if not he'll complain and whine to you that you should at least try it with him and to think of how cool and funny it would be if you did.

Beg you to do things like, for instance, could you make him fly in the air? Your abilities can only go so far of course and not wanting to disappoint, you were successful!...for a few minutes before his ass flopped onto the floor and he got a bloody nose. However as if blood was not dripping from his face currently he was insistent that they have got to try it again sometime!! Flying felt so cool!!

Probably the teammate who has the most interest in your abilities solely for the fact he thinks it's super cool and only thinks of cool ways for you to use it cause..c'mon!!! He doesn't understand why you wouldn't just use it all the time it would make SO many things easier!!

In an attempt to understand you as a person better and how you live with such an ability he's keen on asking questions if you don't get annoyed with him asking so many and then shooing him off. His questions are more so for curiosity and getting to know you reasons as opposed to Medic's who curiosity was mostly scientific.

He's a dude who has a sense of longing to have..someone to like/relate to. Someone to trust and call his friend! And if you're able to show him that you're someone who can deal with his antics, questions, and things that others will find annoying but are things you accept of him..hey man. You got his loyalty and friendship. Take good care of that.

He really likes to talk about just a bunch of things if you're someone he considers a friend. He's not holding back! He's gonna let you hear all of thoughts he has in the world! Or..talk to you about more serious things that only you as friends would share with each other and no one else perhaps...his worries with his mom and knucklehead brothers, or you and your worries.

(Romantic)

Scout is someone that could be described as super touchy with those he feels close enough to. Which st this base, he doesn't consider anybody quite close enough for anyone to ever see. 'Cept you of course. Growing closer to Scout he's way more comfortable wrapping an arm over your shoulders, giving you side hugs, bumping your side with his affectionately and such.

Okay in his defense with that date he tried to set up with Pauling he totally wasn't expecting a giant fucking mutant bread to come and attack the lot of them so, technically while Spy considers him a failure in the department of wooing women the set up of the date wasn't....horrible???? I mean. It looked like a prom yeah but hey! He's learned a thing or 2 from that experience and so he's more likely to have something at least slightly suited more to your tastes since he's gotten to know you better.

You like to push his cap over his eyes quickly with just a flick of your telekinesis before battle starts, leaving him to laugh and fix it before he quickly and effortlessly catches right back up to you anyways. It's okay though, he gets you back later by pressing a cold beer to your neck if the battle is won.

If given the go ahead by you he'll sit with you somewhere and have either an arm draped over your shoulder or your head on his chest as drones on and on about whatever it is he's currently thinking about. He likes talking, and you like listening to him talk even if you don't follow every single thing he says, you get some comfort out of it.

He won't admit to anyone..but you maybe, that your a huge softspot he has. Like, his family is his softspot..and with family that includes his mom, his brothers, and you to some extent, and he'll be sure to remind you every now and again that he's loyal to you and only you. You can trust him when tells you, but reminding you about that fact never hurts!

Overall, he trusts and loves you to the fullest and he can only hope that you return both of those in full back to him. He's indulged the most information about himself personally and his worries to you and only you, and you've done the same for him.

Spy:

(General)

Standoffish with you in your initial meeting. Your first impression of him was one you couldn't really say was kind or nice in anyway. While the man wasn't downright cruel he still couldn't be described as nice. After all, he did blow smoke in your face upon initial meeting. However, you didn't return this first impression in kind back as you were quick to gather the smoke blown at you in a sphere kind of shape and have it blown right back in his own face, his expression souring quite a bit.

He can be mad all he wants, but you let it be known on your first meeting that you're not letting yourself get pushed around. Something that while not in that moment, he grows to appreciate and admire that you're not gonna let people like him walk all over you.

Once you've proven your worth as a teammate to be welcomed on the team by proving yourself in the face of battle, he's lightens up on you considerably. He views his actions as a sort of..tough love kind of situation if you will. He figures that, if you're really deemed fit enough to have your own spot on the team with the rest of them..then he has no need to keep being tough on you as he thinks it would no longer be necessary if you're already here to stay correct?

Finds some of your antics when using your telekinesis amusing..not that he would admit that out loud of course. You swear you might of heard a sucking in of breath to laugh, soft chuckles, or hell even a few snorts from this man a few times when you mess with people but..you also didn't have proof it was him so you wouldn't know completely.

Has admitted to you at one point that you were more tolerable to be around as opposed to the other teammates, not to say that none of them could hold good conversation no, but most could get a bit tiring to socialize with and it was quick to make him want to reside back in his smoking room. You however, were someone he can actually bear to talk to for more than an hour.

Can also admire your skill and how well in check you can keep yourself, it shows serious restraint on your part and that's not so easy for everyone. He finds it admirable that you try so hard as to not cause any kind of harm to anyone or break anything.

(Romantic)

Okay dunno if you can tell but this guy is very much not a low key kind of partner. He's one to shell out quite a pretty penny on gifts he knows you'll enjoy or dates he takes you on. It's a love language of his.

Is also not low key at all when it comes to affection much in public. Hand holding, kisses to the corner of your mouth, kisses to your hands and forehead, the works of that sort but is sure to not overwhelm you if you're not to heavy on that.

You can give the love back whenever you're on the base, super simple things that sure, aren't as out there as Spy's but are gestures he can appreciate no matter how small they are. Using your telekinesis to fetch him a lighter from across the room as to not have him get up to retrieve it, or to use it to tidy up his tie or flick dust and dirt off of his pristine suit.

You find that although unwilling to part with too much information himself, he's very much listening to things you have to say. A sharp eared good listener if you will, he supposes all of those years of eavesdropping on his end has done him some good as he's very much still listening even though he may be occupied with something.

Indulges himself in your company far more than anyone else. Mostly in the dark evenings as he's usually off doing his own things after battle whatever those things may be. Isn't one to talk about work when everyone is clearly not having to do it as of right now, he just wants to wind down at least a tad (as he never allows himself to completely relax as that would pose a danger to the kind of job he has of course.)

Finds that your a good reading partner, not for reading out loud to or you reading out loud for him but, you're someone good to be around if you wish to work around someone who has a bit of life around them as although silent in speech you're not silent in activities that don't require talking. Reading for example, you don't speak but you're also not silent, your soft breathing, maybe the quiet whistle of your nose as you breath out, the light sound of your bouncing your leg against fabric, or just the sound of rustling and turning pages. It calms him.

#medic tf2 #scout tf2 #spy tf2 #tf2 #team fortress 2 #team fortress headcanons #the telepath (10th class)#tf2 tenth class #Acidic-Asks

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eivorsjawline · 3 years

Text

tw: the usual blood and cuts visuals

Chapter 7: Turn Back Time

Reader’s POV

A crescent moon lit up the night sky and the grass remained damp from the recent storm, crickets and frogs sang nearby. The wet, muddy terrain on the hill worked my calves as well as ruined my shoes. My escort finally dropped me off at the stones. Though I know it's odd dropping a strange woman off at a landmark in the middle of the night, he never asked any questions. The atmosphere was dark and cold, part of me felt scared to go back. There is always the chance that the stones could send me to the wrong time period, or even further back. I found love here, and even friends of my own. At least what I thought was love, even if the feelings were not mutual. How could someone so sweet and loving towards me flip within an instant. I questioned if I truly knew Eivor at all in the time I spent here.

Everything changed through the years, but the stones remained the same. Unchanged by any shape or form of mankind. People have come and have gone as they have sat and watched patiently. I wonder whether people have even noticed my absence and how I would explain where I was. It's difficult bearing the truth but having no one to tell it to otherwise I’d be deemed insane. I was back where my journey started, in the same spot engulfed by the tall rocks around me. The standing stone I had touched previously stood directly in front of me. However, I couldn’t bring myself to touch it as if a magnetic force was pulling me away. My name echoed in the distance from a voice I could recognize no matter how far.

Eivor stepped down from her horse with caution and let out a groan. Her knees appeared weak as she stumbled towards me and her voice dry and tired. I still felt anger towards her and wondered why she didn't just apologize earlier.

“Y/n, wait!”

“Why, Eivor?”

“Im sorry, I’m drunk and I can't think right now. Please, forgive my harsh words… You deserve more than what I can offer you. So I…”

She paused and placed her hand on her stomach before dropping to her knees. I quickly moved her hand and lifted her undershirt to reveal she had been wounded. Though I’m not an expert, It was clear to see the wound was deadly. Eivor reached her hand outwards towards me for support. I screamed out her name whilst the anger in my body was now replaced with fear.

“Eivor, get up!”

She could hardly keep her eyes open and her body refused to stand up. For once, I had no time to think of what to do next. Running on pure adrenaline, I reached behind her and grabbed underneath her arms in an attempt to drag her but she was too heavy. My panicking only worsened from that point forward.

“Eivor, I need you to help me please… Just for a moment.”

Her eyes flickered with what little fight she had left in her body. I placed her arms around my neck, holding her wrist. This allowed her to place less of her body weight on me as I led her to the stone. She groaned in pain and could barely support herself. I quickly pulled her free hand onto the stone alone with mine.

This is the only way…

Eivor’s POV

Consciousness started to return to me as a bright light shined in my eye, I could make out the voices of other people around me. Everything was colorless, only white. For a moment, I truly thought I had died. I looked up to strange sounds coming from a machine that had cords hooked up to various parts of my body. Men and women wearing white coats surrounded me and they seemed to somehow know my name. I sat up to get a better view of my surroundings and my jaw dropped, unable to fix the frown on my face. I began to tug and pull out the lines connected to me and a woman advised me to stop.

“Where am I? Who are you people?”

“This is a hospital and we’re trying to help you. I need you to lay back down.”

The lights around me were so bright and everything so foreign, I felt genuine fear forming in my body. They mumbled towards one another, words I could not make any sense of. The woman in front of me started to fidget with a set of tools near my bed until I grabbed onto her wrist and she flinched. She squirmed and tried to pull my hand off before I finally released her.

“Tell me where y/n is… Please.”

“She's waiting for you outside… Doctor, she's moving too much she needs to be put back to sleep.”

What does she mean put back to sleep?

Before any further thoughts could form I felt a pinch in my arm and my eyes started to grow heavy. I could not fight my drowsiness so I succumbed to it.

Readers POV

I waited outside Eivor’s room anxiously. Thankfully, I had been placed in the exact same time period I had left. Nothing changed and I knew no questions would be plastered onto me by anyone I know. The door to Eivor’s room opened and a doctor greeted me, papers in his hands of x-rays and tests. He was a tall freckled man with thick brown hair and his glasses kept falling from the bridge of his nose. I stood up to shake his hand and waited for him to tell me any news of her.

“So, the wound has been disinfected and is ready for proper healing. We’ve done a few tests on her brain activity and everything is functioning normal. However, she has multiple scars all over her body. They look to be battle scars, oddly enough. I understand you tell me she’s a new friend of yours but do you know anything else about her life?”

“All I know is that her life has been a rough one… Now, when can she be released?”

“Soon. She’s very confused right now, unaware of her surroundings. Perhaps, once she's awake you can help jog her memory.”

“Could I at least see her now?”

“I’m assuming you’re not family therefore, I can't allow that. Leave your number and we’ll let you know when she’s ready to be brought home.”

I jotted down my number with the black-ink pen the doctor gave me. He told me she needs to be aware of her surroundings before any further stimulation. Even if the doctor seemed suspicious, they know only so little. I felt bad on the walk to my car, I didn’t wanna leave her all alone there but there was nothing I could do about It. I feared she would be angry with me once I picked her up. I started up my car and pulled out of the driveway, the rain trickled onto the front of my window and I turned on my windshield wipers. The drive back home was somewhat rejuvenating, being back relaxed me, I didn’t have to witness war and blood every second of the day.

I neared the driveway of my parking lot and pulled in. On the passenger seat my keys laid, I grabbed them and shut the car door. When I unlocked the front door to my apartment everything remained just as It was before, like nothing changed. My cat greeted me with a meow and I replied back with a scratch on her neck before making sure her food bowl was filled. I missed my life entirely, though I hadn’t been gone terribly long, a feeling of deja vu still resonated within me. The night would be long as I waited for my phone to go off. I turned the television on in my living room and kicked back, my cat laying next to me.

Just like old times...

Traveling through time seems to tire me, so I laid back and let my mind drift away.

Eivor’s POV

I awoke from my practically forced sleep. I knew my journey to her would bring me here, to her strange world. Some more clothes would have brought me more comfort rather than this sheet they have me in. My wound was healing nicely, the pain of it wearing away though still sore. Some good ale would help me endure this. The nurses treated me well, making me regret how aggressive I had been in the beginning. My knowledge of the world around me made them suspicious but they knew I was fully responsive. We discussed my release, and they gave me news that I should get ready to go home. One of the nurses placed a bag on the chair next to my bed.

“Your friend left some clothes for you to change into when she left.”

A simple shirt and pants, strange material though. Surely, for such an advanced time I would have thought the clothing would be more complex instead, It was rather minimalist. The shirt fit rather snug but the pants were fine and felt comfortable. No one bared any weapons or armor, I felt nude without anything to defend myself with. Everyone seemed content and relaxed, I envied the people around me and the sheltered lives they had always lived. They walked around completely oblivious, and so did I. The concept was foreign but trying to fit in with the people around me was easy, just act like everything is okay. I heard a knock on the door once I finished dressing and the doctor came in to consult with me. He shook my hand and smiled.

“Hello, Eivor. Your wound is healing wonderfully. How are you feeling?”

“Better than I was.”

“The severity of your wound was extreme, even I’m surprised you made it… Your scars, how did you get them? If you don't mind me asking.”

I threw my hands up in the air trying to spare some time, my voice became soft.

“Oh, you know. Used to be a troublemaker, got into some bad fights.”

“I assume you're still troublemaking since that wound is fresh.”

“This one was an.... accident.”

Reader’s POV

The familiar sound of my phone started to ring. I knocked out so hard, I’m not even sure what time it is. I wiped the corners of my mouth before clearing my throat, the hospital was calling me. Anxiously, I answered the call and It was the doctor I had spoken to prior. Finally, I can pick her up from the hospital. I never got up quicker, throwing on some clean clothes and grabbing my keys on the way out the door. I whipped out of the driveway and headed towards Eivor, I think I may have even been speeding. Upon arrival I made my way to the desk to check into Eivor’s room. I took the elevator and pressed the floor number I needed to go to. Ugh, I hate the smell of hospitals. Disinfectants and chemicals everywhere, yet the taste of nothingness in the air at the same time. I found myself at her room door, and knocked to make sure she was ready for my entrance. The door handle twisted and opened swiftly, my heart began to beat faster when I saw the way she looked at me. I wrapped my arms around her neck and gave her a warm embrace.

“I’m so sorry It happened this way. We’ll get you back, I promise.”

“There’s no need for apologies, you saved my life. These people saved my life, there would be no going back home if it wasn’t for your quick thinking. I will admit for the first time there is true fear in my body for what lies out there.”

I chuckled, sure enough she had the look of fear in her eyes.

“Eivor, there’s nothing to be scared of. Come on, let me show you my home. Oh, I just picked the shirt and pants out real quick, sorry if the fit is wrong. We’re going shopping as soon as possible...”

Eivor looked overwhelmed, perhaps the bright lighting and a bustling hospital was a lot to handle for her. We stepped in the elevator and made our way down, the buttons and how we dropped seemed to fascinate her. When we got outside to the parking lot she was surprised to see all the cars moving fast, faster than any horse could go. When we got to my car I made a short, “ta-da!” movement with my hands.

“This is my humble stallion, she takes me wherever I like.”

Behold, my silver car. A few years dated but in almost pristine condition, I seemed quite proud of myself somehow. I opened the door for her and had to remind her to tilt her head down when entering.

“More of those…”

She pointed at the numbers in my car.

“They're called buttons, love.”

I turned the volume dial on my car and played some tunes. The surprised expression on her face when she heard what we consider music, we shared a look before smiling and laughing at each other. The moment was short when she ran her fingers over the functions, the radio station changing repeatedly and the heater kicking on and off… Like a child in a candy shop, touching everything in sight. Though I was trying to contain my laughter, her face remained serious and extremely focused. I got on the road to go back home, making sure to play some of my favorite songs for her entertainment.

#female eivor #fem!eivor #eivor #eivor x reader #assasins creed valhalla #eivor wolfkissed #eivor wolfsmal #time travel #assasins creed #ac valhalla

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sweet-mahalo · 3 years

Text

Pt 1. LEVIHAN APOCALYPTIC AU.

She's running around the compound, step by step she continues trying to keep her composure. It's supposed to look like she's jogging, but her nerves are slowly getting to her. Feeling eyes on her back. The weight of the operation is on her shoulders today, in 5 minutes warfare will explode and the outcome of her comrades will depend on how she follows her role.

3 minutes left now, her pace is more focused, she has the mental image for success, her eyes are scanning her peripherals, looking for movement. In 2 minutes she'll have to make the best sprint of her life, her speed will mean saving the operation.

1 more minute to go, she traces the route on her mind, she studied the terrain for two weeks, she knows where she'll go next. One breath later and she's fully focused, feeling how her body prepares for the sprint, energy moving to her tights and stomach.

Boom!

A loud explosion 500 meters away is her signal to give her best, running as fast as she can. She passes by the exercise lot, takes a bag hidden in between two dry bushes, and takes it with her. Gunshots now seem to come from everywhere, apparently, inmates have escaped too and worsened the situation. She manages to get past the distracted guards and inside the building, time continues to tick, there is danger everywhere, guards fighting inmates trying to get to the west wing where the explosion managed to crumble the sturdy wall taking away their freedom. She's running opposite to them, her goal is the right-wing of the facility, where the crowd-control vehicles reside. Her legs are burning, and her heart is at maximum capacity, one, two, one, two, is the tempo that is keeping her sane. The hallways seem to be longer today, especially with the chaos.

Finally, the right-wing comes to view, but not without danger. She sees one big burly guard keeping his place in front of the doors leading to her final destination. He looks fearless, even among the destruction of the prison. Doubt settles in her stomach. Was it too late? Were they prepared for the attack? She feels like stopping to consider another strategy.

However, a voice in her head tells her that it's best to follow the plan she's spent so long developing so she does not slow her pace.

The guard noticed her from afar and prepared his gun in anticipation of an attack on their security. Now her mission has become fully suicidal. The Gun that was supposed to be smuggled with the bag got lost in the process. The only way is to continue running in a straight path and hope to tackle the obese guard and come up victorious to at least survive.

Predictably the guard fires away without any warning. The sound and smell of gunpowder are too close for comfort. The man fired five consecutive rounds until she reached him. She prayed that her height and speed gave her a chance to come out alive as she decided to tackle the guard.

Feeling lucky, she prepared for the takedown while the man fired a final round. Lowering her body, she finally got to the takedown.

She did it, her speed generated enough force to throw the man on his back, the gun sliding away from him. Recovering quickly from the impact she got up on her feet, and ran toward the gun, securing the threat by shooting the man in the head. Blood splattering everywhere around him. With the gun she no longer had to force the doors to open, firing one last shot to the electronic lock, the doors opened and revealed the end of her path. She now knew they'd succeeded.

Looking at all the military vehicles and seeing the time on her watch, she saw she had 6 minutes to spare. However, in her head, she could visualize military boots approaching fast.

Opening the bag, there was a set of prepared bombs that she set in the middle of the compound that held the 70 military vehicles for this section. She started the countdown after putting them under one of the gun trucks.

Taking the remnant tools of the bag and the gun, she went to look for the exit and escape route.

Smiling, she knew she made it, another successful mission.

------

At last, she was at their meeting site, in the city's underground recounting today's success. They had managed to take down more than half of the artillery of the military without many losses. The planning for the mission had begun months ago and had started with her getting into prison for a petty misdemeanor, and culminating a day before she was supposed to be released with the attack to the military forces. The plan was more than a success, due to the age of the building, it had crumbled down after the explosion she started at the warehouse. There was very little to save.

The commander had even come to congratulate her after his discourse. Her heart swelling with honor

-"Zoe Hanji, the future of humanity looks hopeful with warriors like you on our side... Congratulations." He said while tapping her shoulder.

This was it! Hanji was so happy she could barely contain her jitters, there was no way the smile she had could be removed from her face. She was now making a difference within the fireflies and within the shithole that was the district. She had always been optimistic, but this step was a concrete embodiment of what they could do. The vision for a better future for the citizens of District 5 seemed really close now. Hanji got lost in her musings of a better future that looked to be far far away these days.

Soon the meeting was over, only the high commands left discussing the future of their operations. Hanji was nothing but an outstanding recruiter with abilities for creating strategies and managing research on their not-so-legal fertility clinic.

Another recruit would've been discouraged by this arrangement, after having done so much for the movement and for so long but staying only as a regular soldier. However, she was one of the few members that still had a clear image on the outside, and a semblance of a job. There was no record officially tying her to the fireflies. If things had gone smoothly today, her record is still good enough within the eyes of the regular folk. In other words, she was a key peon to infiltrate the military's barriers and manage to snitch useful information to her team.

Feeling satisfied with herself, she started the 40-minute walk to her place. Hanji lived in district 5, one of the biggest districts, it managed to be one of the few that were over 150 km, with approximately 600.000 citizens. Descendants of the few survivors that managed to stay alive after the outbreak that happened 60 years ago. Her grandmother was the sole survivor of her family, a young 24-year-old military medic that was lucky enough to hide in a convoy with the few people that had enough money to pay for protection against the infected. The remaining segments of the government and military officials were able to save some land and organize a few sectors that could hold off the infected and let humanity's last survivors.

There were around 30 official districts in what used to be North America. She knew South America and Europe had more districts, resources, and places to live. But all communications and solidarity had been shut off since the plague started. Asia and Africa had been decimated at the beginning of the pandemic, the political warfare ended up with an atomic bomb that ruined most of the countries.

All are connected by the same dictatorship. A few of them managed to strive even in the apocalypse, but many of them, including hers, were slowly collapsing under the strict military censorship, lack of resources, disease, nepotism, and inequality. Her particular worry was the pummeling birthrate and infertility within young women in district 5, adding hunger, she knew all was soon to collapse. The military was greedy and corrupt, she had been hopeless working full time at the local hospital trying to reach someone that would realize the seriousness of their situation. Nonetheless, all was fruitless.

This was her situation until a guerilla movement that started brewing in district 10 reached them and recruited her when they noticed her efforts to help.

Finally, a much-needed fertility clinic was born, as it was financed by the fireflies it had a rough start. But soon the rich families took interest and research took off. Within two years 75 babies had been born using hormone therapy and the eggs of the few women that still could reproduce.

Her research team also discovered that the cause of infertility was due to the water of the nearby river. The water plant they had been using was useless at cleaning the mercury present in the water. A huge scandal took place once her research was published, so for this, she knew the military could have an eye on her. Thankfully she was also protected by the rich who had gotten healthy offspring due to her efforts.

Still, 7 out of 10 women are infertile. The few babies that are born have deformities and die soon after childbirth. Then, considering the number of people that are dying of disease and hunger every day makes the Child mortality rate much more gruesome. And still, there are no efforts made to fix this from the ruling party.

Walking up the streets filled with rats, criminals, homeless people, and rugged houses, Hanji looks up at the sky and exhales a huge sigh. Today she does not feel like looking at the depressing scenery. At least she has the stars to clean her mind.

By the time she reaches the dusty one-bedroom apartment she collapses on her trashy bed. It feels like heaven after months of sleeping on the jail cell floor. Soon, she drifts into a restless sleep.

------

Sun and heat are enveloping her whole body, she's woken up by the sweat covering her all around. Her short hair and bangs sticking up her face. She puts a hand up to clean off the sweat accumulating at her neck. She next touches her chest, it feels like fire. Hanji inhales, but it feels as if there was no oxygen in the air, as if she was breathing through a wet rag in a desert.

Finally, she opens up her eyes to see that she'd left the windows closed and the curtains open. Sun shining down directly at her face. Her crappy fan was moving slowly, doing barely anything, looking as nasty as her.

-What a happy, sunny day- She says sarcastically. Taking off the borrowed blouse they had given her at the meeting.

Walking to the bathroom she could finally see herself in the dirty mirror in front of her small hand-washer.

-Shit- is the only word that comes from her mouth.

Putting her hands on her cheeks she saw that her face looked gaunt. Hanji had always been naturally slender, but not this much. Flexing her arms she noticed she had lost muscle mass too. Ribs were poking through her lean abdomen, her small boobs almost imperceptible at the lack of fat and wide shoulders. Dark bruises lining all over her torso and back. She didn't even know how she got them.

To be honest, she felt as bad as she looked. Greasy hair and all.

After taking a thorough shower she opened up the windows and took off to look for Eren first. She was fuming and starving, but mostly wanting to strangle him for being an idiot. The bratty teenager was supposed to clean the apartment up and restock her fridge for her return. She was going to take back the money she paid him and give him a beating to top it off.

Walking down the street she took long strides toward the place he always was. The shitty-looking boxing gym where they met. No pleasant memories this time, as she saw his coconut head laughing with his friends while she was dying.

Using her height advantage, she was able to easily sneak up on him and put him in a chokehold. The teen managed to strike a few weak punches and pull her hair a little, but her anger was stronger.

-"You little shit! Give me my money back."-

The weakened punches and gurgling alerted her that the lesson had been enough. At the end of the day, he was like her child, so her anger diffused quickly. Pushing him away, he struggled a bit to regain his breath and he looked at her with wide eyes.

-Hanji? What the fuck?! - he said while still coughing. -You almost broke my neck!-

- it's me who should be asking you that! Why is my fridge empty? My house smells like death!-

- What did you do with my money all this time?!-

Looking embarrassed after recovering a little, he looked her in the eye: - ... I forgot-

Her anger returned -Forgot what?! How? Didn't you see yesterday's mess? - she said while getting closer to his face, putting her chin down to look him in the eye.

-I thought that your release was tomorrow, I swear! I have it on my calendar! -

Looking at her with his green wide eyes, there was not much she could do. She knew he was not lying. The kid was loyal like a puppy so she only sighed, averted her gaze, and looked back at him with a bit of mirth and disappointment.

-You're hopeless you know?- Putting her hand on his head she messed with his hair.

-...It hurts me more to know that you forgot about me, actually-

He smacked her hand away -I didn't! The date was tomorrow! I'm telling you, I have it written.

Hanji put her arm back around his shoulder, and whispered in his ear -Yes, but I also told you, and I gave you a note about my unofficial release date you know?-

-... I lost it... I promise you, I was sure it was tomorrow- Eren said while looking away.

-Hm, it's ok... Go clean it now, and fill up my fridge you brat- looking thoughtful she continued - or I'll beat you up, just like I did now- she ended while laughing -I thought that you'd grow up a little and get better at fighting, but you still suck man-

He pushed her away and took her by surprise as he managed to move her. So he was finally becoming a man, after all, hanji thought.

-You look like a skeleton, I can beat you up whenever I want- With a smirk he said - I only lost last time because you have a height advantage, but that is all, I'm stronger and younger at the end.

-Well... whatever, I'm not here to destroy your ego. Now, feed me-

After an unfulfilling breakfast, Eren left to go clean her apartment, finally apologizing and promising to accomplish what he had promised. So she took off to the military police department to report herself in, and make her release official before any corrupt officer beat her to it.

Considering yesterday's events, the elevated amount of military presence in the streets was something hanji expected. Even knowing this, her heart was beating fast, and she was sweating off her breakfast quickly. She knew the security cameras had been disabled, that the mask she had on, plus the chaos was enough to rule out any trustworthy witness. But this was paranoia, an irrational, emotional reaction that made her want to sprint out of the street and hide in a corner.

She fought off the urge and tried to appear nonchalant. If she does not get to the office soon, she won't have protection against being imprisoned again for escaping.

Perhaps if she hadn't been so nervous, she wouldn't have heard the yelp coming from the alley next to the sidewalk she was on. Her senses focused, behind the humidity and natural grime of the air, she smelled the distinctive scent of iron and egg. For her to be able to perceive this, and from this distance, she was sure that someone was bleeding out in the alley. The smell was too familiar to be anything else.

Slowly, hanji turned her head in the direction of the smell and started walking. Keeping her eyes on the floor as if to appear inconspicuous. Looking at her worn-out tennis, she got into the alley and tried to make as little sound as possible, in case there was danger around.

Hanji didn't have to wait for too much to see the source of the smell. There was a dead man with his throat cut out in front of her, but a dead body could not make a sound. Turning her head she saw that in front of the body there was a big dumpster, and behind it, there was some shuffling and the source of the sound.

Suddenly, a black boot became visible from behind the dumpster. She recognized the military boot immediately. The person hidden by the dumpster seemed to be convulsing and even with the risks, she made her choice. With the determination that she had been missing a few seconds ago, she sprinted toward the soldier.

This was a view she was not expecting. A tiny, tiny... girl dressed as a military recruit was lying half in the ground, covered in blood while struggling to breathe. Her hands clutching her neck while her feet kicked under her, eyes wide, and face red. Her hair was untied and her movements had increasingly become more and more frantic. Next to her was a scratched helmet and a bloody knife.

Quickly she took the girl's hands away from her neck, she touched and probed the skin around it, to check if the trachea had been damaged. A clear picture of the dead man choking the girl came to view. However, no hematoma had formed yet, and her neck was full of blood, so she could not see the skin to assess the damage. Stupidly, she asked.

-"Why can't you breathe?"

The girl seemed to move increasingly faster. Her breathing was forced, but still present, and she was now again touching her neck. Hanji could see her ribs going up and down, indicating she was breathing still. Quickly, she turned her so that the girl laid on her side, right hand up, and down her head, while she prodded her back to check for any injury to her lungs.

This prompted the silent answer to her question. The girl had been choking on her own blood. After being put on her side, she spits the dark liquid and took a big gulp of air. It seemed like, in her panicked state, she was choking herself without realizing it. Hanji looked at the side of her face and tried to touch her face to continue her check-up. Despite her efforts to help, the girl stopped her hand in a gentle, but firm grasp.

-"I'm not hurt"- The girl barely said, while continuing to spit blood.

-Wh... You bit your tongue- Deadpanned Hanji. She tried to reach out to her again. However, the soldier no longer had fear in her eyes. Instead, a steady gaze replaced the previous one, implicitly preventing her from nearing her any further. Hanji took this as her signal to flee the place. Knowing that at any time she could be processed or wrongly linked to the scene.

She waited a bit until the soldier sat more comfortably, and slowly started to move away from her, crouching back on the tip of her toes. Swiftly, Hanji stood up, and took a step back, planning to flee.

The sound of a gun being unlocked stopped her movements.

-"Where do you think you're going?"-

A low, raspy voice coming from behind her interrupted her plans. She could almost taste the anger lacing the words. A shiver ran down her spine. She was fucked.

Putting her hands up, she didn't dare to turn around. It seemed like her body decided that the best course of action was to freeze.

Could it be that the dead man had a friend? Or even worse, was this an ambush? Had they caught Eren in her apartment? Did they kill him? Did he snitch on her?

-You okay?- The voice said again, but not to her.

Suddenly, relief flooded her system. Had it been an ambush, the guy would not have worried about the soldier. She could get out of this easily.

Before the girl could say anything, Hanji turned her head around and answered on her behalf.

-"I found her choking, she seems to be fine, but I think she bit her tongue"-

-"..."

From her peripherals she could not see anything, the guy was on her blind spot, hidden completely. She figured his question was answered in silence when she looked back at the girl sitting on the floor, who had her eyes directed at the figure behind hanji.

-"Turn around, slowly. Make a sudden movement and I'll shoot you"- Perhaps it'd not be that easy to leave, hearing how the menacing tone had not changed.

She did as she was told, and was surprised to find a short man behind that mighty voice.

Looking at his eyes, however, was a different story. Grey, and dead, was the only way she could describe them. The bags down his eyes framing the macabre picture together. His eyes seemed more dangerous than his gun.

-"State your name, age, and identification"- Again, tone dry and menacing.

Fuck.

-"Zoe Hanji, 28. And I don't have to tell you anything else, I have not done anything wrong."

-"Identification"- He repeated, moving the gun as an indication for her to answer.

-"How do I know you're not one of these gangsters?" She pointed at the dead body with a tilt of her head. -"This is not a regular procedure for an officer, you didn't even announce your presence!" She finished, faking anger.

-"I will not repeat it again. Give me your identification, or you'll come with me".

Pure dread settled in her stomach. She had just tasted freedom and was going to be back at the gutter for being careless. Her commander would not be happy with her. Another month without her working at the clinic, meant losing more clients and cash for their movement. At last, she looked at the sky again and accepted that this was all her fault. Sighing, she gave the man his answer.

-"She helped me out"- Stated the girl behind her, sounding better, and closer now. The girl walked to stand next to the man, and spit out more blood. -"I panicked"-

At this, he lowered his gun, but still glanced at her with suspicion. She put her eyes down, and then looked around while he looked for her id number on his device.

In times like this, she wished she could take refuge in religion... Perhaps a God could take pity on her dire situation. Briefly, she distracted herself thinking that the Gods had punished her enough by making her human. The disabled children overpopulating the local orphanage seemed to be happier than anyone else by having little intelligence and basic awareness. When she was feeling particularly pathetic, thoughts like this swam freely in her mind.

-"Huh..." Said the man -"Seems like you're going with me after all, four eyes".

Another sigh.

-"No thank you... I don't date short men"

Hanji knew it was a lost cause. That's why she had said it. It was temporary relief to her distress, so why not? The girl, Petra, who now had a name, had looked at her in pure surprise. She was nowhere to be seen while hanji stayed in the temporary prison in one of the newest commando units. It looked fancier than it should be, she thought and expressed this out loud to the soldier that had turned her in.

After being ignored again she focused back on him. He was finishing paperwork with the local officer, who now that she noticed, had a baby face and seemed to be more afraid of the soldier than her.

-"Hey, where are you guys getting all of these kids to work with you? Petra looks pretty young. How old is she?" - She answered herself - "17?"

She continued after the silence, moving a bit to let blood flow to her cuffed hands.

-"And you, officer? I apologize, but you don't seem to be older than 15. Why is that?"

At last, she managed to get a reaction from the soldier next to the young officer.

-"Keep talking and I'll make sure you rot in this hell for more than you have to"

-"You can't do that, you're nothing but a soldier"- She stated with confidence.

The officer flushed and looked down at his paperwork. The soldier only glanced at her, as stoic as ever.

After this brief encounter he left, but neither he nor the offer gave any indication of what would happen to her. She knew for the experience that once she was in, there was no way of communicating with the outside world before the supposed trial. A corrupt facade where the accusers played as the judge, and the defense. Hanji was going to be sentenced to a year in jail for escaping. Another 4 months for disrespecting authority. And this was the best-case scenario.

More than 6 hours had passed. And she was in pain all over, grunting to relieve some of the discomfort caused by her now swollen wrists and for her previous injuries.

She was currently the only prisoner. The officer's desk at the center of it all.

-"Excuse me! Officer, the cuffs are too tight. My hands are numb. Could you lose them a bit?"-.

Now that the man was gone the little officer had gained some confidence.

"-Be quiet. I won't fall for that trick, I know I put them well-"

"-Yes, well.. we all make mistakes. I'm telling you, they are too tight-"

The sudden outburst was unexpected. The rookie had stood up from his desk, and smashed his baton loudly against her cell.

-"Shut up, or I'll do it for you"-

So this was a little man trying to appear big. Hanjo thought this idiot was dangerous, but not for his own merit but because he'd do anything to save his fragile ego. Still, something within her wanted to rile him up, to see how his toddler tantrum would end up. So she pushed him a bit more.

-"What? You'll snitch me with your teacher?... Did they take you straight out of the kindergarten?"

Now the kid was fuming. His pale face is all red again, eyes watery, just like Hanji predicted.

She couldn't help but laugh at his expression. But this was the wrong move as the kid smashed the bars again, and moved to open up the jail cell.

-"Yeah? You think you're funny? We'll see who laughs last, bitch!".

#levihan #anime #levi attack on titan #aot hanji #levi x hanji #post apocalyptic #attack on titan #hange zoë #levi x hange #ficlet #fic rec #fanfic

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gatesofember · 4 years

Text

The Ballad of Ladon Creek

Chapter 1

Wild West au | Pairing: Solangelo | Rating: T | Read it on AO3 | Next Chapter

Summary: Doctor Will Solace had lived in the secluded Oregon town of Ladon Creek for a year when a mysterious stranger arrived and turned his world upside down.

For @solangeloweek’s auctober

In the years after the Civil War, a young woman by the name of Hazel Levesque discovered a massive supply of gold in the hills near Ladon Creek. With the help of a few close friends, she established her own mine—something that she should not have been able to do, because Miss Levesque was not only female, but black, as well. At the time, blacks had been prohibited from entering the state of Oregon at all; they certainly weren’t granted the right to own property. It had taken some clever manipulation and sneaking around to have the land registered in her name.

The mine brought so many settlers in its first year of operation that one of Miss Levesque’s friends—Miss Annabeth Chase—designed a town named Ladon Creek after the nearby river. It was the largest town for miles but not far from Grande Ronde and it sat largely undisturbed by the county marshal and outside lawmen. That, and the fact that it had been founded by a black woman and her friends, was why Ladon Creek had attracted all manner of social outcasts and “undesirables” in the years since the mine’s opening—one of whom being Dr. William Solace.

Dr. Solace had kept to himself since arriving in Ladon Creek the year before. While his mother, Mrs. Naomi Solace, was a pleasant and sociable woman, Will never sought out companionship. Even when invited, he listened more than he spoke and hardly ever stayed long.

Still, Will remained well-liked in Ladon Creek. Something about him made people feel safe and comfortable. He was of average height and his posture was unthreatening. His face was handsome and smooth, his voice sounded pleasantly melodic, and his demeanor was gentle and calming. His hands felt soft like he’d never worked a day in his life, yet he labored over his patients so arduously that you might have thought they were his own kin. Every touch was careful and every word was warm.

On one bright summer afternoon, a stranger rode into Ladon Creek slouched on the back of a bay-coated horse. He was clothed almost entirely in black and his face was hidden in shadow under the brim of his dark hat. When he stopped a couple on the street and asked where he could find the doctor, they pointed him in the direction of Will’s clinic.

Will looked up when he heard the rustling outside his office and saw the black-clad stranger tying up his horse outside the windows. He noted a limp to the man’s gait and clicked his tongue. Wounded travelers came into his office too often for Will’s liking—out west, people were far too careless and the terrain was far too dangerous.

Will folded his hands on the desk in front of him as the man opened the door and walked inside. “You’re the doctor?” asked the stranger.

“Yes,” said Will. “How may I help you?”

The man took off his hat, revealing a head of unkempt black hair and a pair of bottomless dark eyes that reminded Will of staring into a well. There was a sheen of sweat on his brow and dark circles under his eyes, and Will almost feared the man might pass out right in the doorway of his clinic. But despite his obvious exhaustion, he was handsome in a rough kind of way—the dangerous sort of handsome that was best admired from afar.

“I’m looking to buy some bandages,” the man said.

Will glanced down at the leg the man had been favoring. “You have a name, stranger?” he asked.

“Di Angelo—Nico di Angelo,” the man replied.

“Well, then, Mr. di Angelo,” Will said, rising from his desk. “If you let me examine that leg, the bandages are free.”

To Will’s surprise, the man hesitated before nodding and taking off his duster, revealing the brown-stained bandage wrapped around his left thigh.

“Sit down,” Will said, gesturing to the exam table hidden from the view of the windows by a privacy curtain. He took Nico’s coat and hat and hung them by the door before joining him. Nico had already started unwrapping his bandages. The wound was messy, caked with dried blood and slowly oozing a cloudy yellow fluid. Will could tell it was at least a day or two old and that an infection was setting in.

“You must have gotten in quite a fight,” Will said, standing to fetch supplies to clean the wound. “Run into some trouble?”

Nico didn’t answer. Will hadn’t expected him to.

“I already got the bullet out and cleaned it,” Nico said.

“Good,” Will replied. “You probably held the infection off long enough to make it here, but you’re lucky I asked to see it—otherwise, you might’ve lost your leg.”

Will poured alcohol on a cleaning cloth and Nico tensed when it touched his wound, but held still and didn’t make a sound until Will had finished and applied a healing ointment. “You’ll need to stay in town a few days so I can keep an eye on your progress and care for your wound properly,” Will said. “Mrs. Jackson owns an inn a little ways down the road where you can rent a room. She’ll make sure you eat well and her son will take good care of your horse.”

Nico was quiet and for a moment, Will worried that he’d argue. But then he sighed and said, “I suppose there’s no helping it. Where can I find her?”

Will tried not to feel insulted by Nico’s obvious disappointment. “Only a few buildings down the road—I’ll take you there,” he said as he finished changing Nico’s bandages. “Wait here a moment.”

Will went into the back room of the clinic and retrieved a wooden crutch from his supplies, then returned and offered it to Nico. “You’ll need to use this to walk for a while,” he said. “Try to keep your weight off that leg as much as you can.”

Nico looked at Will with tired incredulity, like he couldn’t believe Will was forcing him to do all this, but he got to his feet and tested the crutch without complaining. Will handed Nico his hat and coat and brought him outside to where his mare was waiting. Will offered to lead her while Nico got used to his crutch, and Nico shrugged like he didn’t care one way or the other.

The Jacksons’ inn was a two-story building just a short walk away with blue painted siding and windows of natural pine. If he walked by at the wrong time, Will would smell a wonderful meal being prepared, which always left him hungry and jealous. He had been invited to join them for supper a handful of times, and each time he swore it was the best meal he’d ever had.

Mrs. Sally Jackson sat on a rocking chair on the front porch as Will and Nico approached, humming softly and holding her sleeping six-month-old baby against her chest. She looked tired, with a few brown and gray hairs out of place, but relaxed and happy.

“Afternoon, Mrs. Jackson,” called Will.

“Dr. Solace!” Mrs. Jackson said. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I have a patient in need of a room,” Will answered, nodding to Nico. “This is Mr. di Angelo. He’ll be staying here until his leg heals.”

“Poor thing,” Mrs. Jackson tutted as she rose from her chair, careful to not wake the baby. “Take a seat while I bring your horse to the stable out back, Mr. di Angelo. Doctor, I’m sorry to trouble you, but would you mind holding Estelle? Paul’s at the schoolhouse, Percy’s on the ranch, and poor Estelle has barely napped all day.”

“No trouble at all, Mrs. Jackson,” Will answered. Estelle stirred when Will took her, but she quickly fell asleep again in his arms.

“Thank you, Doctor,” Sally said before leading the horse around to the back of the building.

When Will glanced back at Nico, half expecting to find him passed out in the rocking chair, he was surprised to instead see Nico watching him with a curious, unnerving expression that made Will’s hair stand on end. He felt like he was being picked apart, dissected and examined like a dead animal. Will cleared his throat, but Nico kept staring—perhaps not even realizing what he was doing or not understanding that Will was trying to get him to stop.

“Your horse is lovely,” Will said, attempting to distract him instead. “What’s her name?”

Nico finally blinked and he looked thoughtful for a moment, like he’d never considered giving her a name. Then he said, “Cavala.”

“Cavala,” Will repeated, rubbing soft circles into Estelle’s back. “A beautiful name for a beautiful horse.”

Nico smiled, but it seemed more like he was enjoying a private joke than appreciating Will’s compliment. Still, the smile made Will’s heart rate pick up for a second and he almost worried the hammering would wake the baby sleeping against his chest. He glanced away and was glad to see Mrs. Jackson returning.

“Thank you for holding her,” she said when Will passed Estelle back.

“You’re very welcome,” Will said. “Don’t let her nap too much longer or she won’t want to sleep tonight.”

“I know, Doctor—this isn’t my first baby, it’s just been a while since my last,” said Mrs. Jackson. “I’ll set you up in a room on the ground floor so that you don’t have to bother with the stairs, Mr. di Angelo. My husband and my son should be home soon and Percy will look after your horse while Paul helps me with supper. Are you hungry?”

Nico looked at her blankly for a second before nodding, like it took a moment for his tired brain to comprehend what she was asking. “Yes, ma’am,” he said.

“I ought to head back to the clinic,” Will said, before the idea of a Jackson supper made him start to drool. “Come by tomorrow morning so I can check on your leg, Mr. di Angelo.”

Nico turned back to Will, once again fixing him with that unnerving stare, and slowly nodded.

When Will walked back to his clinic, he could still feel the stare on his back.

#Wild West au #solangelo #Nico di Angelo #Will Solace #solangelo fanfiction #solangelo fanfic #my fic

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enigma-im · 4 years

Text

Carry on Wayward son

Rating: Mature Relationship: Dwarf and Female!Human Warning: platonic relationship, Suicide attempt, Force help, lowkey kidnapping but it’s for the greater good, angst, fluff, hopeful ending

Word count: 2549

"if you would throw away your life, then I will claim it as mine" -rising from the depths

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

"you going to jump?" I startle from the voice, stepping back from the concrete edge. I clench the support beam harder as I twist to look at the company. It's hard to make out a face from all the hair. Big bushy beard and long ginger locks frame the little bit of face visible.

"What? No," I lie with a scoff.

He hums with a quirk of his nose," well it looks like you were. If that isn't the case then what are you doing up on the ledge to a very dangerous fall?" I squint at the man, almost offended by his presence in such a monumental moment. I look from him to the edge, looking down at the water crashing over the rocks.

"Enjoying the view," I huff," it’s a beautiful place." he hums in agreement. I get captured by the distant view of the white-capped waves in the river. It really is a lovely view, a nice final vision before blissful blankness. I take a few baby steps forward, barely lifting my foot as I curt the edge. It's so easy, such a simple action to end the cremating feeling in my chest and head. Just take a step, almost like a leap of faith. It's that easy.

"Such a cowards way out," the man startles me to alertness again.

I snap my head to him," what?" he is closer now, leaning against the shoulder height barrier.

"Suicide, it’s a coward's way out. I can't imagine me saying that holds any weight but it’s the truth. Hurting others because you think its easier. Spoiler alert, nothing is easy. That’s what makes some things sweeter to obtain and others loud enough to tell you its not worth it. But I digress," he shrugs. He glances up at me then back out to the mountains.

I begin to shake, feeling cornered at his correct assumption. My chest feels like a hole and the always there feeling of panic rises into an engulfing terror. I take in shallow breaths as hundreds of lies thread through my mind, hanging onto the edge of my tongue like my feet on the edge of the bridge.

"I-I don- wh-," everything tries to come out at once. The dwarf turns his attention fully to me, regarding me in an almost relaxed pose. It's such a contrast to the black hole eating everything in my chest. I'm offended by his calm demeanor. Why does he get to be calm? Why does he get to be normal?

"Do you not have something better to do than make assumptions about me? I would love if you left now," I snap at him. Knowing what I want to say is a little different. 'leave' or ' please help' sits in the back of my throat.

"I don't think being alone is something you need right now, lass. The company would do you some good even if you don’t want company right now. Let's hope an audience will prevent you from doing something stupid," he answers passively.

"Something stupid? I would disagree, its probably the smartest thing I have ever done," I sigh. I glance back over to the edge with a shuttering breath. It might be my best gift to everyone really. I know it will be a wonderful present for myself. I can't be a burden anymore, as much as I can't keep feeling this. I can't tolerate another panic attack, I won't go about opening to someone who just doesn't get it. I can't help myself and no is willing to try so what's the point.

I forget about the man for a moment as I turn fully to the water. Just one step. Just one lift of my foot and I will be happy, free, content. I will be better once I walk forward. Just one step.

I lift my foot in almost a trance, leaning forward to the air. This I can do, I can do this.

I take the leap.

The first thing I feel is a flip in my stomach as gravity take hold. The next thing I feel is an air-punching feeling to my gut as something wraps around my middle. My elbows hit against the concrete as I fall to my back. My skin scrapes the rough terrain as my lower back skids over the corner. I suck in a gasp at the sudden pain then wince when my back slides over the lip and back onto the flat barrier.

"You damn crazy woman, making me fucking nearly fall with ya," the dwarf curses as he drags me back and over the barrier. "I didn't think you would actually do it if I was here, Jesus Christ saving you took ten years off my own life," he continues.

It takes me a second to survey the situation, I didn't fall. The white-hot fear from falling to my end transforms in anger. I twist in the man's hold and try to scurry away but he holds firm. I lash out in blind rage with a scream.

"Stop your shouting please, I rather not lose ten years then grow old as a deaf lad," he huff. I can't bother to care, just wriggling and screeching in his arms.

"You had no right! You bastard, that was my moment!" I flail till he manages to pin my arms to my sides. His grip is surprisingly strong for someone of his height. I continue to fight, showing more emotion than I have all year. I writhe and yell till I tire myself out, falling limp in his hold. I don’t know when I started crying, I also don't care to try. I drop my head to his chest and wail in grief, pain, angst, whatever.

"Let me die," I whimper," I can't take it anymore, I can't handle the emptiness. Please."

"Why are you so eager to off yourself? Why throw your life to the void," he asks. His fingers loosen on my arms then lift to stroke my hair. I can't answer him, I just want the silence to stop. I want the panic to end. God, please, it's all I want.

"well if you are going to give your life away then I shall take it," he huff as he thumps his head back against the wall.

I don't care what he is saying. This moment will end and I will be back here again. As fate for me to be here in the end.

---

I end up at his house once he managed to guide me from the bridge. He brings me inside and rests me on the couch. I don’t bother fighting, it would do me no good for now. I'm too tired to do anything, to feel anything. Sitting, I can do that for now.

He tries to get me into a conversation, I don't answer. He gives me food, I don't eat. He turns on the tv, I don't pay attention. As it gets late he gives me a blanket and pillow to sleep on the couch. I just lay down and stare emptily into the now darkened room.

He sighs," tomorrow will be better."

I don’t believe him

---

I wake to a bright light shining into my eyes, I groan and turn over on the couch. I feel something shake my shoulder but I brush it off with another groan. Someone huffs then the blanket is snatched from my body. The cold air runs over my legs in full tilt alarm. I snap my legs up instinctually and twist to scold the person holding my blanket.

"good, you can still get angry," he smirks as he drops the blanket to the floor. He doesn't pay me any attention as he heads for the kitchen attached to the living room.

"What is that suppose to mean," I shout as I snatch the blanket from the floor. I happen to glance at the clock attached to the wall, 7am. "Who the hell wakes up at 7am," I groan as I roll back onto the couch prepared to go back to sleep.

Before I could doze off the couch raises, the new angle knocking me on my ass. I thump my head to the floor with a loud thud and a colorful curse.

"You wake up at 7am now and eat breakfast soon after, got it?" I rub my head as I glare after the retreating dwarf.

"Excuse me?"

"I don't believe I stuttered," he passes a glance over his shoulder.

"Yea, I got that. I'm just curious who you think you are to be demanding that from me," I snap. I stand and snatch the blanket off the floor for the second time today.

"I am the person who owns your life so I decided what you do and don't do," he answers with a grin. It isn't sadistic or perverted like one would assume with a sentence like that. Either way, it isn't appreciated.

"Excuse me? You own me?"

He nods," that I do. You gave up your life yesterday and I claimed it for mine so you belong to me now. So come over here and eat, you are all skin and bones. Some weight and healthy food will do you some good." I don’t answer him, too flabbergasted to move. Am I being kidnapped? This is illegal, no one can claim a person.

When I don't answer he looks over holding a plate of a well-rounded breakfast. He cocks a brow, "What?"

"I'm leaving," I huff as I turn to the door.

"feel free to but know I will follow you so you don't go and do something stupid."

"You are going to stalk me?"

"if I have to, then yes."

"I'm going to call the cops."

"Do so and I will tell them you are a danger to yourself and they will put you into a hospital. Being with me will be more worth your time than being drowned in pills in a sterile room. Will it help, maybe. Will it be the best option, no. so those are your choices."

"You are an asshole."

"if that is what I have to be I will be the bad guy in your story."

"fuck you."

"Whatever you say. Here is what is going to happen. You will work with me on the river, then eat before we work out, then read or converse till bed. This will be your schedule during the week, then the weekend is yours. You will still wake up early but feel free to do as you wish. A schedule will keep you rounded and your brain in working order."

"I don't want to do that."

"Sometimes we don’t want to do thing but those things will help us in the long run. I don't like taking medicine but I know it will help. I don't like washing my clothes but I know if I don't then I won't have anything to wear. Often actions we bore ourselves with is beneficiary. Now quit whining and grab the bucket over there."

"fucking jackass."

"I will take insult over nothing."

We do exactly as he says, eat breakfast (though I manage barely nibbles) then head out to work on the river casting lines and cleaning up trash or debris. I fight every chance I get to not work but every time I act a brat he playfully splashes water or tugs a strand of my hair. Once we finish out by the river we sit on a dock and eat sandwiches. I barely touch my sandwich, instead, munching on the fruit. He takes the innards of my food then feeds the bread to the mallards swimming by. Watching the ducks is new, my mother always regarded the birds as disgusting needy animals. It's nice for a moment.

Next, we head back to his house where he offers some clothes to exercise in. we run for a bit then do some yoga to my surprise. He doesn't look like a fit man but keeps up pretty well to my lazy pace. We work up a good sweat before heading back to the house and showering. He offers more clothes then we settle in the living room.

"Wanna talk or read?"

"what?"

"This is enrichment time if you will. I generally sit and read before bed but the company is welcome. So would you like to read or talk?"

"Neither."

"I can talk at you if you like."

"do whatever you want. I played along with your demands today, I'm done."

"you aren't but if you wish to just listen to my voice then feel free to. I think today was nice, even if you were a bit bratty. Some hard work will do you some good, especially with your anxiety. Work calms the nerves if you do it right."

"how about reading."

"want to read now? Alright, here," he huffs before sitting up and grabbing a book from the shelf. There seems to be no thought in his choice as he grabs the closest in his reach. He tosses the hardcover to me, it lightly bouncing on the couch. I grab it, gloss over the title with little to no care, then open it. Out the corner of my eye, he opens up his own.

I stare down at the first page, not bothering to read it. I think about the day, think about how my legs ache and my stomach feels fuller than any recent time I can remember. I turn to the next page after a short moment, repeating the process anew.

The man scoffs, "I know you are faking it."

"Am not."

"'His eyes roamed around the room once they were adjusted to the faint illumination. He furn-"

"What are you doing?"

"reading."

"Out loud?"

"you need socializing, either it is from reading or from me. Why not both?"

"you aren't giving up are you?"

"on you? No."

"don’t say it like that."

"What?"

"Don't say it like that."

"I'm not giving up on you, that will be made very clear right now. You are worthy of living and worthy of being happy. Sometimes to get put in the right direction takes a helping hand, If I have to be that hand then so be it. I can't fix you, that isn't how this works, but I will give you the tools to help yourself. I will not give up on you, got it?"

He spoke with such benediction, so firm and confident. I had to believe him, there was no room for lies in his words. He is here to help me, I never doubted him, but he believes that I can help myself. That thought is oddly sobering.

"yes."

"Good, now are you going to read, or am I reading to you?"

"to me."

"Alright then."

I didn't believe his ways, I still barely do, but I think I can humor the idea. If only for a little while I think I can give it a shot. I trust the oddly caring dwarf man living by the river. Hell, if he can catch and pull me over a bridge then I think he can use the strength to help me find my own.

It's worth a try.

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

First off, if you feel anyway the character did in the beginning please seek help. sometimes the world feel crushing and we are either not worth living in it or unprepared to, it’s not true. as long as you are caring then you worth living. not saying it will be easy but with help anything is possible.

Now, this story was suppose to be just the first part but that was way too sad for anything i’ve written. so if it seems rushed or unfinished uhh, i blame work starting up this week. totally not my fault at all...

Book quote is from Rising from the Depths, great story. its about a kraken who takes care of a woman who loses her leg in a (alien) shark attack. its a long series that has a different couple ever book. i’ve read them all, super good. if you have read it, please DM me cause none of my friends are ever willing to read that.

“our job is to love others without stopping to inquire whether or not they are worthy” - Thomas Merton

Check out my Archive | Masterlist | Main Blog

#Angst #Enigma-IM #dwarf #platonic #exophilia #carry on wayward son #Dwarf friend #trigger warning #attempted

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mimiplaysgames · 4 years

Text

A Powerful Enough Dream (Ch. 3)

Pairing: Terra/Aqua (eventually) Rating: T Word Count: 9,275

Summary: Too many people need Aqua’s help, and if she’s going to do her job as a Keyblade Master, she’s going to have to set aside her personal needs to pull them through... Only to find that something is not entirely alright with her.

Read on AO3

A/N: Ahhhh, I've never meant to ignore this particular fic for so long. ^^;; In all honesty, aside from so many other things going on in my life (I went on hiatus and am due for another, I was dedicated to other projects and I just got accepted into another zine ;-; and there was my stupid, broken computer which is now replaced! :D), I really dreaded writing this one. When I announced that I was splitting this story in two fics, I knew I dug a grave for myself. There is no way to fix this chapter without rewriting the first one entirely, but I figured it was much more important to get started Aqua on her journey and I need this loose end tied as soon as possible. If you're new to this story, I'm sorry this chapter is so bad - I'm totally aware, I promise. I've tried my hardest to make this side-quest as sensible as possible.

****

Crazy

His heart beats hard, fast, irregular, and it's about to collapse.

He doesn't hear how ragged his breath is, running as desperately as he is, and he ignores how much his muscles are screaming for rest.

Then there's the headache. That's the one thing Terra is mindful of.

He trips.

The Realm of Darkness doesn't make it easy, not with how rough it shapes its terrain, like it tripped him on purpose. Cobblestones not fitting well together. Pits in the dirt. Rocks hidden in tall grass where he won't notice.

Flashes of light burst somewhere far behind. It's too foggy to see what's going on. Terra spits sweat out of his lips.

There are eyes - a pair wedged right next to a pebble, near enough to grab his fingers. Another in the hollow trunk of a tree. And one more in the distance, in the direction he was heading, and now he has to choose another way and pray he doesn't fall off a cliff.

Behind him, he hears bubbling, the same sickly sound that always announces the arrival of Heartless.

It simmers across his back and he grabs whatever landed on him and throws it as hard as he can and he summons Ends of the Earth -

But can't. He hasn't been able to, not since he left the beach.

Not since he saw a flash of light and Aqua was gone, sent home to her freedom like she deserves. Not since some tall men in dark, hooded cloaks appeared out of nowhere in the sandy shores. Organization members. They wanted to kidnap him.

Terra had to choose between waiting for his friends to come back in dangerous waters, or running away.

When he can turn back into Xehanort at any moment.

He chose to run.

And now he's surrounded without a Keyblade. He thinks about Xemnas, and even though he's tired, and even though his stomach hurts, he takes that brief memory of what it feels like to be numb, to be detached and disheartened, and waves his hands in a sweep against the earth and flies them upward.

A barrier shoots erect - but not just any protective shield, an offensive one. The type that electrifies the Heartless that ram into it, and sends them flying backwards. The kind only a Nobody can summon.

He conjures more - two by his side, another behind him - to force these damn things to back off, and he escapes when he's had enough -

Tripping again when the Realm tricks a hill to look like a straight path and oops, there he goes, falling in air, rolling against dry dirt and tumbling until he finally halts.

It's dark down here. The headache will split his scalp open.

"No," he grumbles, running fingers through his hair and he wants to rip the strands off. "I can't control-"

His limbs go rigid. "No," he says again. He wants to make sure Xehanort hears him loud and clear.

Terra cannot summon his armor anymore for that matter, since Xehanort has clouded both in darkness. They should be in arms' reach, waiting peacefully in his heart, ready to come at his will… but it's like his Keyblade can't see or hear him either.

He manages a small sob when he loses control of his arms - which are quite literally, moving on their own to grip at his legs.

The taste of loss is bitter, as prickly as the tree roots ripping out of the earth and tangling around him. It's like the Realm sees what he's going through, and wants to point and laugh. They squeeze, tightening so his bones can't reply, and he's left to allow them to drag him.

But light is warm and always there - because without it, there wouldn't be any shadows. It shines like a halo, making the roots writhe and wrinkle away, letting him go, letting him breathe. It eases his headache, which he knows won't last forever, but finally… relief.

"Mickey?"

Two large, yellow shoes - big enough to belong to a clown - step in front of him, a pair of comically round ears leering over him with a huge smile. Mickey is the physical embodiment of a hearth, of everything that makes children happy in the outside world, a complete mismatched reflection of the twisted underground of the Realm.

"Slipped, did ya?" he squeaked.

"Maybe," Terra scoffs, just able to move a finger to trace the dirt. It feels so real.

As real as Aqua's skin when he held her - he held her. That was real. And she escaped. Terra considers this a success, a wish fulfilled, to stay behind so she could taste food again.

… Terra didn't even get a chance to tell her about his feelings. He chickened out in the last minute.

She's smart. She'll free Ven, too. And Terra will drag Xehanort to drown in the darkness together.

If he can manage to keep control of his body that is.

Mickey's Keyblade now dons some new chinks and chips.

If they continue this way, neither of them will last much longer. Terra has already woken up a couple of times, right in the middle of a duel with Mickey, a silver Keyblade high in the air and ready to strike, only for Terra to realize what he's holding and drops it. It's flashes of moments that in reality may have lasted only minutes but seem much longer. If Xehanort keeps hacking away, Mickey's Keyblade will break.

And then Terra won't have anyone left to help him.

But it hurts, that headache.

"Chin up, Terra," Mickey says, surveying where they should head to next.

The fog dissipates and gives them two paths: one paved with a line of lanterns illuminating the way, the other a rocky uphill hike into a forest.

"I… need to rest," Terra breathes, wanting to take back the words. If he rests, he'll lose control again.

"Aww, Terra, don't worry."

"I'll hurt you again." He chokes on a whimper, the headache roaring this time. "I don't know how Aqua survived years of this…"

Hands take hold of his shoulders, and this small mouse, barely as tall as his knees, takes Terra's entire weight onto his shoulders to sit him up. "Remember, I got ya."

"What are we going to do? I can't summon my Keyblade anymore and I just don't-"

Terra doesn't know what to say. I just don't know if I can keep waiting for anyone to come back?

"Well," Mickey muses, "we'll have to keep moving."

Thanks, Captain Obvious.

"I don't know how you do it, either."

"I don't have Xehanort weighing me down, and I think that makes you pretty strong. Don't be so hard on yourself."

"This place doesn't make you sad?"

"If I think about it…" A frown on Mickey's face is ill-fitting. "But we don't have time for that."

Funny, since the Realm will be sure to give them all the time it has to offer. The Realm will be sure to give them reasons to stay.

Maybe it's darkness creeping in, or maybe Terra had enough of reality to taste - it's sour.

"I don't see how anyone is going to find us," he says.

Mickey is silent for a moment.

"I had an old friend," he starts, "who used to have a motto he lived his life by."

He holds a fist up, and releases each of his four fingers with every rule: "'First, think. Second, dream. Third, believe. And finally, dare.' To honor him, I have to believe that every step we take will get us closer to freedom."

As if to prove a point, he faces Terra, and finishes with, "I think that's what helped Aqua last this long down here."

Condensed simply, those all sound like tenants of a Keyblade wielder.

"Was your friend a gentle man?" Terra asks.

Mickey smiles with a shrug to his shoulder. "Ohoho, he also said something to the effect of, 'You may not realize it when it happens, but a kick in the teeth may be the best thing in the world for you.'"

"... It makes you stronger." How often has his own Master said the same thing? The Realm will kick him when he's already down, and he's supposed to stand on his own two feet and carry on like it doesn't hurt.

"Something like that." Mickey points to the rocky uphill hike. "My heart tells me this will be the safer way to go. C'mon Terra. How's about we keep going? Our friends think about us all the time, and they will light our way."

Terra grunts like his legs hate him, and he rolls his neck. It helps soothe the headache.

"Okay."

It starts with the suggestion by a simple-minded mouse, and Terra gets on his feet, fighting off dizziness, to face more odd nights.

****

The clock still hasn't struck ten and if the way her legs are shaking are any indication of how… is annoyed is the right word? Anxious?

Impatient. Aqua keeps crossing her legs and checks the time, and for a second she thinks she's back in the Realm of Darkness when she swears the minute hand went backwards.

The lights in the lobby are dim, the carpet as red as a deep wound. The chair she's lounging in is comfortable at least, but it nags at her back and she's desperate to move. She's still in the hotel, her heart torn by her duty to the people she swore to protect, nowhere near Ventus, nowhere near Terra, nowhere near anywhere she truthfully wants to be. If it continues to tear in opposite directions, will her heart break in two?

Rydia is also slouched in a lounge chair of her own, and has a radio playing, the static clearing to the lullaby of an accordion and violin. Their story is a long trek through a city filled with the lights of a harp, guided by the sad, gentle canals of a tuba. The violin abandons the accordion, and the tuba reassures the accordion, and it's lonely until they all reunite powerfully at the end of a long night.

Rydia is dressed stunning as always, her empire sleeves in gold trimming piling on top of the floor as she braids and unbraids her long green hair, a gentle smile on her face as she eases into her chair, losing herself to the song.

Everyone around Aqua is either doing two things: hustling to wherever they need to be - the infirmary, the battlefield, to their families - or, they linger, living out the seconds until Kefka comes.

Until Kefka comes: that is what is on everyone's mind, and Aqua can't bear to pass more than a second of thought to it.

But she'll stand corrected when the clock finally hits ten, and after ten strikes from the clock tower, here come the sirens.

They wail at first, getting louder which every passing vibration until she can't hear anything else, and she feels Rydia getting stiff right next to her. The sirens keep blaring.

They quiet, only to come back around and Aqua realizes the town is desperate because there won't be a place that could possibly escape the sound. They need her help. Terra and Ven need her help. Too many people need her help.

Focus, Aqua.

Silence, and her heart still drums in her ear.

"I swear that clock tower is haunted," Rydia says, slowly letting out breath as if letting it go all at once would make too much noise. The music sounds softer, as if the sirens had intimidated it, and Rydia leans over to bring her ears closer. "It always knows when to interrupt the best parts."

When Aqua stares at her with uneasy eyes, Rydia continues, "Don't worry, you'll get used to it."

Aqua never wants to hear them again.

The bustling energy in the hotel took pause during the sirens, and is now at full speed again - maybe even faster, knowing the minutes are ticking. Kefka arrives at eleven. One hour.

Cid barges through, keeping the double doors to the lobby open with a lit cigarette pursed in his lips, and a scowl worse than his usual attitude. "Incomin'."

In comes a tall, blond man with ridiculously spiky hair, and a giant blade strapped to his back (giant is an understatement), dragging carts of wooden boxes, throwing them open to reveal potions - as much as a store inventory.

Aqua recognizes him faintly from the night she came through the Door to Light... and suddenly she feels that twist in her gut, a sweaty coldness that only comes with what she must be most familiar with at this point.

Darkness. This man has the trace of it… and Cid is helping him like no one is in danger and Rydia is welcoming him like he's a friend.

The man pauses his hyper-focus when he sees Aqua, the severe look on his face softening with… pity.

"You're Aqua, right?" he asks her.

"That's right." She hates the way he's looking at her. "And you're…?"

"Cloud." Here it comes. "I'm sorry about Terra."

She has to remind herself that people mean well (and once she frees Terra, everyone will stop trying to apologize to her).

"Thank you," she says and she's relieved she doesn't sound ungrateful.

Cloud looks away at first, minorly distracted by Cid's grumbling about how they only have one ram left for the fight. Then he stands up, approaching Aqua.

"I was really torn up when I heard," Cloud says, uneasy like it's weird for him to be so open-hearted, "but I respect his decision. He has a good head on his shoulders."

Then he extends his hand to her. "Welcome to the team, Aqua."

Cloud has a gentle half-smile on his face, and darkness extends its hand, expecting her to shake it.

She's expected to be polite and she tries - she really wants to try - but her hand limps in his firm shake. Cloud gets the message, dropping his own and turning over his shoulder. "I'll be at the site," he tells Cid. "Hurry it up."

Cid groans, and saying out of ear shot, "Kid swears he's a hot shot."

Aqua rolls her lips inward.

"You alright?" Rydia asks, leaning forward.

"He has darkness." It's impolite to say, but Aqua has little patience to play with the dark.

Rydia cocks an eyebrow, her gray eyes searching for a proper explanation. "Your point? We all harbor darkness within ourselves."

"That is true, but… it's not normal to be able to sense it."

Rydia sits back, nodding to what she's understanding. "I suppose Cloud has been through so much, considering… what I don't understand is why it has to be such a black and white issue."

"What do you mean?"

"Where I come from, darkness isn't considered to be evil, at least among mages. We have white and black magic, but it has more to do with how you wield them. Darkness alone says nothing of your character."

Then Rydia smiles, to prove her point. "I trust Cloud with my life."

Aqua supposes she's being unfair - after all, her reflection has proven to her countless times that there are cracks within her very own heart, and it's unrealistic to believe they have all been sealed and darkness-proof.

There's been a lot of nights when Aqua had wondered if she should end it, pierce her chest with her Master's Keyblade and let the ocean take her. What darker sadness could there be besides that?

And then there's Terra… he has darkness, and maybe it's strong but it's always outshined by his spirit. He will always be a good person.

"Cloud, the sad hero," Cid gruffs, pulling potions out onto tables so everyone who passes by can easily pack them. "Basque in his greatness when he feels sorry for you."

Rydia takes a sleeve her mouth to cover her chuckles. "Where is this coming from?"

"He's more depressin' than an opera." He takes a puff of smoke. "But eh, I can respect 'im. He gets shit done."

Cid glances over to the hallway, suddenly switching gears and gives the two girls a fair warning: "Look sharp."

It's for Garnet's arrival, who is followed closely by Lulu, the organizer of the orphanage... So she hasn't followed the children to safety after all.

Garnet walks like she's on air, the most feminine Aqua has ever seen, her head held high like she's not as small as she really is, her hair and her bubble sleeves floating like there's a breeze that only graces her presence. Her heart is determined and open, embracing what's to come.

Lulu has her arms crossed, her face contorted in annoyance and a touch of impeccable, heavy makeup, her fur and leather-trimmed gown trailing long behind her. She walks with responsibility, but her heart doesn't want to accept what's going on around her.

"You're going to find me hard to submit, Your Highness," Lulu says, her voice as serious as her disposition.

Garnet whips around. "What you propose is preposterous."

"Your point?" Lulu scoffs. "I didn't stay behind to let you do what you please. I'm speaking for what is best for everyone else."

Garnet huffs. As if to end the conversation, she pretends to organize through potions even though they are all the same color, handing over some to Lulu, taking more for the battle ahead.

Lulu apprehensively accepts, and proposes something: "When the children want to win an argument, they play a game called Snap. Winner gets the final word."

"Is that so?"

"It's a game of magical prowess. Hold a coin flat in between both palms, and you fight to keep it."

Garnet straightens up, understanding exactly the kind of filibustering Lulu is trying to do, and extends her hand, gesturing to be given something. "Let's have it, then."

Out of Lulu's bra comes a large silver coin. She holds the coin together with Garnet's palm, like they are slapping it in place. Visually, nothing seems to be happening as their faces lose themselves to concentration, but Aqua recognizes the energy in the air: there is magic bustling in between their fingertips, and whoever exercises more willpower gets to keep the coin.

"Now," Lulu says and they pull hands apart like they're avoiding harm.

It takes a moment to process, and Garnet flips her fingers to reveal that the coin has stayed with her. Whether it's beginner's luck or she's that more skillful, Aqua doesn't know enough to figure.

"I've won," Garnet announces.

"Except you've lost," Lulu says with dejection, with concern, with stern ambition. She hovers over to Rydia's side.

Rydia has cast her eyes downward, avoiding the game altogether, a profound look of guilt betraying her need to keep a straight face.

Three women standing on one side of the room with Garnet opposing them.

It's enough for Cid, who's sitting on his own away from the drama, to throw his hands in the air, as if saying this isn't worth the trouble. "Women."

"What is going on?" Aqua asks.

Her interruption makes Garnet jump, but the princess ignores the question.

So Lulu answers, her tone as exasperated as her eye roll. "Garnet thinks she can get away with sacrificing herself."

"You haven't left me with much choice," Garnet says, sending a glance over to Rydia. "I have been blessed with more time to be there for those in need of me. And yet, I have to do what is best for my people, and I cannot sit idly by to watch you play the sacrifice on my behalf."

Aqua stands up. "I don't understand what you're implying." Except she does understand. She just refuses that there's any justification to it.

Garnet breathes, ignoring Lulu's scoff. "Kefka demands female mages… Turn them into Heartless or else it will continue to haunt us every single night, and I cannot have this when we are in the middle of evacuations. I must ensure the safety of my peers."

Garnet then holds a hand to her heart. "Speak of nothing to Noctis. He'd never leave me out of his sight if he knew."

Hands gripped into themselves, shaking her head, Aqua groans and doesn't know what to say. "Riku never…" Said anything to me.

Just to stay behind and protect the hotel, out of real harm's way without giving her a choice.

So Aqua sets her sights. "Kefka is supposed to come every other night, right?"

"That is correct."

"So you'll buy one night with your life?"

"...Yes. We are the last ones." She gestures to herself, Lulu, and Rydia.

The entire room is quiet, weighed down by the severity of what was said.

They are the last ones, and does it matter really which order they get taken out, one by one?

It's not fair. It's ridiculous, and Aqua, Keyblade Master, is not going to tolerate it.

"Your Highness," she says, "I don't mean to show disrespect, but I think you should listen more to your peers."

Rydia leans forward, like she's looking for a speck of hope. Lulu thanks some force out there that someone around here is speaking reason.

"What would have me do, Master Aqua?" Garnet asks gently. "Shall I be content in my path to survival while those who've paved it for me waste away?"

Aqua swallows hard. The job of a Keybearer will sometimes have easy missions, and sometimes impossible ones, but they are all equal in the importance of saving lives. This decision is a no-brainer.

Even if they buy just one more night of peace, Terra is rotting and Aqua has to get going. Ventus is waiting and she promised…

"If Kefka wants a female mage, I'll give it one," she says, starting to head to the exit.

Garnet drops her jaw. "Are you mad? In your condition?"

"I don't have a condition." Aqua stops at the ornately carved wooden doors, and turns to face everyone in the room. "Cid, can you take my place in protecting the hotel?"

It's not just Aqua and the other mages squaring themselves against Garnet's judgment - Cid proudly dusts off his shoulders, nodding. "Better than facing that crazy clown."

Crazy clown doesn't seem to cut it as an appropriate nickname for the terror everyone around Aqua is feeling.

Aqua glances over to Rydia, who is still healing from a wound. "You need to always be by her side. Rydia, are you okay with this?"

Rydia has fire in her eyes, grabbing her longstaff and using it to keep herself standing. "I don't need to move much to destroy Heartless. I'm strong, and I'll stay."

"You're either really naive, or really powerful," Lulu says to Aqua. "I'll take my chances. I'll follow." She picks her potions like she's heard good news, taking her place across the room.

Garnet stands silent, defeated, with an expression that makes Aqua feel horrible, as though the Keyblade Master is really asking the princess to commit to something that is extraordinarily difficult and painful.

This morning, she had such a bright light within her that her healing touch shone white. Now it's dim, her eyes an empty black.

"It's my job to protect you," Aqua says, attempting to comfort her.

And Garnet only stares, like she doesn't believe it. Like she's faced this too many times, and knows from experience that they will all lose.

****

By the way she breaknecks towards the third district, Aqua can feel the clock ticking, even though the tower is quiet.

She takes long strides, stepping on the occasional puddle, leaving a poor Garnet to jog with her short legs in order to keep up. Traverse Town is decorated in lights, but it's otherwise a vacation town for ghosts. No one to dream about fancy jewelry, to admire the latest fashion, to salivate at the aroma of tonight's dinner.

The third district would have been a sight if it wasn't already halfway-destroyed - debris piling on colorful electrical wiring, lanterns that have been bent in half, a water fountain that has been blown open, and apartment homes with all the lights off, wind blowing through curtains. No one lives here anymore.

In the place of a bustling modern district are a bunch of wooden crates, tossed around between people to gather potions and weapons. ...It's a lot of fighters for one Heartless. Aqua would make the fourth Keyblade wielder up against this thing.

A part of her has this sudden apprehension to take another step forward - these people follow her now, swayed by her confidence that all of their worries will end tonight.

What if she has given them false hope?

Could she cope with it?

It's cold. Someone is watching her.

Aqua recognizes this feeling, since she's been faced with it for the better part of twelve years. There's already Heartless here, and she looks every which way to see if she could spot them hiding among the shadows.

Whatever is there is already studying the people gathering here, honing on the way Garnet and Lulu stride towards the middle of the square, pleased by how frantic people are rushing to finish preparations.

She whips around to find the clock tower in the distance, a great vantage point for anyone to stalk from. It's twenty past ten, but…

It's very cold.

Kefka is already here. It's just waiting for the time to start.

It's a sick situation, Kefka twirling these terrorized people in its fingers.

Aqua's expecting to find a certain pair of yellow eyes that would normally come from feral demons, but a different pair perks up when he sees her arriving to the third district.

And they belong to none other than Lea. She is surprised that he even cares that much.

Or maybe he's just really dramatic, but something about the twitch of his lips tells her that he isn't exactly pleased with her presence there.

"I didn't expect to see you here," he says with a smirk, feigning surprise and she doesn't know why he tries so hard to plant certain impressions on other people.

Aqua has no other answer for him except the obvious: "I have to help."

The facade in his eyes flicker out like a lighter turning off. He places his hands on his waist, letting himself be more honest, yet still keeping a hot air of distance between them. "Are you sure it's a good idea for you to fight something this malicious?"

The nerve of him. "I've faced more nightmares than anyone has ever slept with. I can take care of myself."

"Even after what Terra went through to get you back? Do you think that's fair to him?"

Aqua stammers. It isn't fair to drag Terra into this… "I don't need your permission to fight."

She leaves him with his mouth wide-open, searching for words and failing to find them.

Which only leaves her hearing the words, "She's just as dense as him!" fading behind her. It makes her smirk. Terra hasn't changed - when he has his mind set, he can become the worst kind of stubborn, as immovable as a boulder.

On her way to the middle of the square, past some men mapping out the upper levels where long-range fighters should situate, Aqua finds two particular individuals in one of the highest balconies who take way too much interest in watching her.

A well-dressed man, impeccably so, his silk sleeves a clean white like he's never been to battle, bracelets like he appreciates the finer things in life, and an exquisite embroidered vest like he can afford it, and a rifle sitting casually on his shoulder. He's not the one who initially took an interest in her - he only does so when his partner whispers to him about her arrival.

Said partner is a dark-skinned woman, with long, stark white hair that reaches her thighs, and jackrabbit ears stretching high into the sky out of her helmet. It only makes her look taller, taller than the well-dressed man, taller than Terra. Something about this woman makes Aqua wonder if she's seen her before, but this is no time to sit and think about it - that can wait until later. This rabbit-woman immediately takes notice of Aqua, tightening her grip on her bow.

Now there are two more pairs of eyes watching Aqua's back as she continues onward, out of ear-shot of whatever their opinions are.

Aqua comes across Cloud and Noctis, the latter with a clipboard filled with a checklist to make sure everything is in order. Occasionally he asks Cloud about the setup. Garnet and Lulu are already making laps around the square to check in on their sole wooden ram - Aqua gets the sense that Garnet is avoiding her, and Lulu is only following to make sure she doesn't do anything drastic.

Without really looking at Cloud in the eye, Aqua reaches over to hold Noctis' elbow firmly. "Make sure to keep an eye on Garnet," she says softly.

Noctis stammers before getting grim, and he's disappointed. He looks over his shoulder, where he sees Garnet cheerfully speak to a man like nothing is wrong and no foul plans are being made.

"Make that four eyes," Cloud says, smirking, and Aqua can't bring herself to smile back.

"Thanks for the warning," Noctis says. "She never learns."

… That's the weird thing about the people here. There's so much sadness, in Noctis' eyes, in Cloud's, in Garnet's… and they try smiling anyway like they're tricking themselves. Aqua doesn't remember if she's ever really smiled the entire time she's been in the Realm of Darkness.

Maybe once, when she saw apparitions of Terra and Ventus, but when they disappeared, she reasoned that she was being too hopeful. That it was never really truly a smile, because she can only give one around the people she loves. Not ghosts.

How grateful she is that a super-friendly face comes running up to her, bright (huge) yellow shoes splish-splashing through puddles to greet her, Donald and Goofy closeby.

"What are you doing here?" Sora asks, skidding to a stop.

Aqua really wishes people would stop questioning her drive. "Where is Riku?"

Sora takes a pause, his eyes darting for a moment towards the ground. "He's not here yet."

So it's not four Keybearers against Kefka, but three.

A faint thought nags at the back of her mind again. "He never told me about the female mages."

Sora's eyes widen, like he forgot that detail. But he lets it melt away into a small smile. "Riku hides stuff from me, too, sometimes."

"You've fought it before? Kefka?" Aqua searches his eyes for the truth, and she realizes that she actually sounds apprehensive.

She could fail this mission. It wouldn't be the first.

"Ah, phooey!" Donald scoffs, waving his arms like he's shooing a gnat. He's in a really bad mood, and how can he not when he's stuck here for duty's sake just like everyone else? "It's just a clown."

Sora brightens up, a triumphant fist in his palm. "We have a good team here."

His smile is ill-fitting because it's genuine. Nothing like the others who try to hide their fear, but he makes his out of immense faith. Sora's light is powerful, and… rare, Aqua thinks.

"We do," she says, remembering Ven's smile. Something about Sora reminds Aqua that there are reasons to look forward to happier times.

But everything pleasant is short-lived, and maybe that's a sad fact of life.

Someone screams. Points to the clock tower.

The minute hand speeds up, gaining velocity towards the top of the eleventh hour.

It takes three strikes of the bells for everyone to decide whether this is a joke or it's actually happening early.

Two more strikes for Noctis to yell, "Get aggressive! Stay alive!"

Three more for Garnet to whisper a spell that shines a light upon every single person in the area, and another two for Aqua to witness a faint crystal wrap and spin around her before fading away.

A protection spell, something completely unique and rare. Garnet's light is pure and blinding.

One more and it strikes eleven. Ten minutes to do the job or Kefka walks for another night.

The bubbling that signals the arrival of Heartless gargles, a dark mass growing and growing and growing to the size of a building, before an enormous clown steps down, shaking the ground underneath its mismatched shoes and socks.

It laughs, piercing like a speaker is about to blow her ears. Aqua clutches her heart, protecting it from ripping out of her chest - everyone else is gripping their heads like they're containing a massive migraine.

Kefka leans forward just to take a peek at Aqua, its stupid-looking collar a vomit-inducing mix of yellow and red, three swords carried on each shoulder, its white mask welded onto its dark face, bright yellow eyes in circles wide and without lids, a smile painted and screwed together -

And two huge gashes diagonally across its shield of a face, exposing the skin of a shadow underneath.

They all have been saying this thing is impenetrable. Sure.

Aqua summons her Master's Defender.

The clown's hands shiver, and its jaw widens just like a machine - it lets out a screech that sounds like gears out of control, getting louder and louder like Kefka is offended by her weapon.

And it cuts off.

A cleaver flies into its face, knocking it out of place. There's no way someone has that kind of strength but there is Noctis appearing out of nowhere in its tail, like the weapon is a destination. He strikes and Kefka barely blocks it with its forearm. Noctis throws his cleaver elsewhere, and wherever it appears he warps to. He sends a spear to strike Kefka's shoulder. Disappears. A sword, and then Noctis again, attempting to jab the clown in the eye.

Either way, Noctis stays up high, distracting the clown from doing anything else, like a fly determined to be annoying.

"Light!" Sora yells.

He beams, a force bursting out before racing back to his body, and suddenly he illuminates white and takes two Keyblades (Two? Aqua can't think about it right now), sending himself flying high, his weapons a passion to be reckoned with.

They are both heavy hitters, Noctis and Sora, black and white, one sneaky, the other forward, both brave.

Aqua has much to catch up to.

If it's aggressiveness they want, she has plenty of it. Her magic swirls around her as she charges forward, drawing her thoughts inward to her belly, letting her body twirl faster and faster to hurl the energy out in whips and circles.

Donald and Lulu tag team, throwing lightning strikes, icicles, fireballs on the top of the clown's head. It really, really hates having its face touched, and between those spells and Sora and Noctis zipping around like insects, there's already enough distractions.

Cloud thrusts at its metal calves with his giant sword, an impressive power from below to add to the frenzy.

The well-dressed man and the rabbit-woman take calculated shots from afar, aiming for the eyes and only when the clown has an opening.

Lea also takes that cue and throws firey pot shots from afar even though he's a Keyblade wielder (maybe it's smarter to keep a distance).

Goofy is a little all over the place, but his attack, inspired by a tornado, hits the spot when it does, joining Aqua in the mess she's created.

That's… ten fighters at least against one Heartless and it doesn't do much.

Kefka instead takes a moment to just… stand there and take the heat like it isn't bothered. It can't be this easy.

It's not. Like it suddenly woke up, Kefka stomps the ground, and with it comes a roundabout of explosions that start at the rooftops right behind it and circle the entire third district, tossing debris into the ground and causing several people to succumb to coughing fits.

Garnet immediately checks person to person, her light shining to heal. Noctis is already at her side, and she pretends not to notice.

Cloud starts yelling commands to get the ram ready. He's trying to maneuver it and several men crowd together with him to make it move faster. "Aim it toward our bombs. Let's send it back to darkness!"

As though Kefka heard him, it sprints directly towards Cloud and his group of fighters, as if ready to run them flat. They all scream.

Sora scrambles for the feet with his double-weaponry and misses - just because Kefka likes to hop and skip around.

The clown freezes before it takes the last step, one knee high in the ground like it's deciding to squish them, and a hand outstretched - and balls into a fist.

Aqua expects another explosion, and the fighters scream again in fear.

The fist makes a honk - like a toy car.

Kefka laughs and everyone hurts, hands gripping heads to ease the headache, Aqua holding her heart still.

Now Kefka ignores the men it has targeted.

It instead whips around and with that same balled fist, it throws a blast of dark energy at the group of fighters on the opposite side - throwing bodies, slamming doors, disheveling potions and ripping weapons from their holders.

Aqua stumbles from the quakes, and she sees freed hearts, softly glowing, floating gently as the bodies disappear - three of them at least, heading towards the sky.

"No…"

Three lives lost already. She's failing.

Lulu is on the ground, clutching a Moogle doll closely to her chest as Lea holds her by the shoulders. Garnet is frantically throwing light to various people. The only healer in the group.

Both female mages are okay for now.

Kefka loses interest in Cloud's group - who are still preparing the only ram - to strut across the square like no one is watching, right toward a vulnerable Lulu.

Not like she's the type to get intimidated. She raises a fist close to her face, a succession of explosions slapping Kefka in the face and keeping it at bay. She's shaking it like she's grabbing hold onto something stronger than her and the explosions keep going until she has no choice but to let go.

Here is where Lea follows her patterns, but he's not as skilled at the Keyblade. Blessed with deception, definitely, his movements just as unpredictable as Kefka's, throwing fireballs to distract the clown like tossing bees, only to look like he'll dodge in one direction but he really dodges another.

All to keep the clown's attention away from Lulu.

"Cloud!" Lea yells. "Now!"

Cloud and two men push the ram with all their mind, Cloud yelling about making sure to hit it from the southeast direction or they'll miss the planted bomb.

Then the ram loses a wheel. Dilapidates onto the ground.

Kefka takes notice. It always smiles at the expense of others.

A loud whistle, and the sound of water. A wave. A tsunami, really. The well-dressed man blew the whistle, summoning a massive wave to overflow the district and head straight for Kefka.

A new ram, built by exquisitely rare water magic.

This is no time to admire, but an opportunity and Aqua takes it, throwing a trail of ice onto the water as it passes by her and she skates it up, up, and up. When she gets to the crest, she spreads the ice all over the thrash of ripples, turning them into steely icicles, straight into Kefka's torso, right onto the building behind it.

She missed the planted bomb but she's got it pinned. Standing on an icy wave, face to face with the smiling beast. It struggles against the ice, and she readies her Keyblade.

"Time to take care of you," she says.

Kefka stops, leaning its head forward with whatever movement it has left to stare right into her eyes, and even though it's programmed to make only one expression, it almost looks like it's smiling wider.

Aqua lowers her Keyblade. Kefka isn't in front of her anymore but there are flashing pictures of a man. A funny-dressed man, a river, throwing poison into the water, so much that it turns dark. There are many people dead and there's a laugh, and a trial, and a battle, and powerful magical transformations.

The worst kind of people become the worst kind of Heartless.

There's a voice.

"Crazy is just a word they use to describe us."

Aqua has never known a Heartless to be able to talk. It can't talk, it's all in her head.

"What?"

"What are you doing?" Donald yells from the ground below.

Kefka has its large hands around the brim of her icy prison and breaks it piece by piece, thrashing against the building, and she slips and slides off the back of the wave, away from its inevitable freedom.

"Let's go!" Sora and Lea zoom past her, aiming for the clown before it sets loose, but Lea is smarter and backs out when he realizes it's too late, and Sora keeps going until he's exhausted.

One of his Keyblades fade away and he falls, Goofty barely catching him while skating on his shield.

"Keep it up, come on!" Noctis yells to a huge disheartened crowd, followed by Cloud for another barrage of assaults.

Not that Kefka is particularly interested. It hops and dances, skipping along the block and every step it takes strikes a random explosion in a random location, some hitting nothing, others being blocked by Lulu's powerful barriers. One hits near the balcony where the well-dressed man and the rabbit woman were standing, leaving rubble and two long-range fighters onto the ground where they have less of an advantage.

It's dusty and Donald's fireworks sprinkle the air in bright colors that combat the sound of bombs to the point that Aqua has a hard time following Kefka.

She tries but a lot of her attacks end up missing because of Kefka's erratic movements. She has to rely on widespread attacks, which drain her and she takes deep breaths in between to keep herself going.

Sometimes when Kefka runs, it attacks where it aims for, and sometimes it decides not to. It's hard to keep up.

Garnet slips by in all directions, her main concern is healing other people - with such sharp determination that she doesn't care whether Noctis is trying to protect her.

Just when Aqua thinks that Kefka doesn't see her, it attacks, and Garnet is flung straight into a wall, her protection crystal shattering.

"NO!" Noctis yells.

She slumps and doesn't bother to get up. She folds her arms around herself, waiting for the next hit, and Aqua summons another trail of ice to get there faster (faster, faster). She can't let this happen on her watch.

At this point, Aqua is shielding a stupefied princess with her body, and Kefka will attack the both of them, already ready with a dark mass bubbling in its palm.

But it gets hit from behind by a massive… missile? It's forceful enough to actually make the clown stumble.

The droning sound of machinery draws near, a flying gummi ship coming close. Kefka laughs and everyone hurts, Aqua gripping Garnet tighter to quiet the squirming princess.

Kefka telepathically takes all six swords and glides them in a sweep, up right through the middle of the ship, cutting in half, and Riku vaults out of the captain's seat, rolling off a roof and landing with a huge thud right next to Aqua and Garnet.

"Just in time," Riku says, summoning his new Keyblade. It's heavy and massive for his size.

Garnet snaps out of her stupor, heaving because she's just escaped death. Her eyes flash anger, and she takes her shortstaff and holds it in the air. A column of light bursts through the cobblestone with a loud punch, shooting right into the sky with such a trembling force that Kefka is knocked away from them.

"Thank you, Aqua," Garnet gently says as she picks herself up. She casts another spell, encasing herself and Riku in crystal.

Even though he has his Keyblade ready, Riku gladly waits for her to finish like they've done this routine one too many times and it's the best they can do to keep an eye on each other.

But Riku doesn't wait for a command though, chasing as soon as his crystal stabilizes itself. It's Cloud that sprints by his side and gestures an order without saying anything. In sync, they hit both of Kefka's ankles with their massive weapons, tripping it to its knees.

Garnet is also on her knees, exhausted. Whatever attack she conjured, it drained her of power and Aqua slumps her over her back - Garnet may be short but she's heavy.

Some force of wind takes Aqua off her feet, and Noctis suddenly has his arm around the both of them, and they glide over the ground until he reaches his next waypoint and drops them right behind Lulu, who is frustrated, worried, and determined to keep Garnet behind her.

The look on Noctis' face is awful as he takes a glance at the chaos: Kefka easily standing up after being tripped, Cloud and Riku desperately attacking its shins, the ram since abandoned. Goofy and Sora attacking its ankles from behind, Lea acting like bait, the well-dressed man shooting his gun upwards and missing, the rabbit-woman shooting an arrow and hitting the clown straight in the eye, but it all does so little.

Noctis is tired - not just exhausted, but the kind of tired Aqua dealt with for years.

Not the kind when he's had enough and he's angry - the kind when he's had enough and it's time to give up.

And Aqua's had enough.

She charges forward with a yell, jabbing her Keyblade straight into the air. She summons a giant snowflake, spinning and flashing until it stabs Kefka right at the hip.

In reaction, Kefka commands its swords again, and throws them all at her with a huge swipe, and Aqua doesn't dodge. She blocks, each slash of a sword against a properly placed Keyblade. Kefka is strong, and Kefka is big, and these swords are twice her size - but none of them matter. She's been training with two large men her whole life, and Kefka doesn't compare to her Master's skill or Terra's ferocity.

"You're pissing me off!" she cries when she blocks the sixth sword.

It takes a lot out of her but they are not called special techniques without a good reason.

Her Master's unique chains, first encircling her in a glow of golden light, then lurching until they wrap around Kefka. At the touch, these chains burn Heartless - they've certainly burned her when the Master first taught them how to use it.

Success. Kefka's arms are twisted tightly against its torso, and one of the links wraps under its thigh and actually keeps the stupid thing on its knees, a perfect target for everyone else.

The air chills, fog rolling in and Aqua at first considers a new threat but it's actually a dragon shaped out of mist, bobbing in the air before landing on the roof. It blows steam onto the clown, carefully skipping allies like they are precious, leaving a clown squealing like an unoiled engine.

"That's my girl," says a breathy Lulu, who barely has the energy to stand up.

It has to be Rydia's summon. Such powerful magic, Aqua has so much to learn still.

But a dragon twice the size of Kefka still doesn't make a dent (what the stars is its skin made of?), and it soon dissipates, leaving a dumbfounded Aqua - but no one else seems surprised. They keep throwing attacks, and Aqua is getting drowsy. She can't hold onto the chains much longer.

Ah, Kefka's floating swords, she forgot about them. They strike against her chains. They'll break. The damn thing.

At this point, Aqua has nothing left to give and so much to lose.

"Noctis," she says, whipping around and holding him by the shoulder. "Can you fly me up?"

He has dirt on his face and defeat in his eyes, but why not? He grabs her by the waist and throws his dagger up in the sky. She flies, then he grabs her again, throws his dagger even higher, making her soar to heights she couldn't possibly jump to on her own.

Aqua lets herself float, aiming for the sword nearest her. She grabs the grip of the hilt. Her feet stomp the guard and she stands straight.

She ignores Noctis when he freaks and screams, "Don't touch those!"

The sword spins to knock her off but she has a direction she wants to go and this thing will obey.

Down she goes, the point of the sword cutting straight through the air with one very particular destination: in between Kefka's shoulder and clavicle.

She rips into it, metal creaking and gears popping apart until she hits a thud that she's sure is the ground. Like a needle, Kefka is pinned in place by its very own. Aqua's chains flickjer but still - it can't move.

Kefka can't turn its face well to get a full look at the Keyblade Master triumphantly standing on its shoulder, right in between its lost limb.

"Get off of there!"

"Don't touch that!"

"Are you nuts?"

Voices by some she recognizes and some she doesn't, she ignores them. Instead, she watches Kefka's eyes, hard on her. The smile on its face doesn't waver even though she can tell - she can feel - rage building.

Several gears choke right under its chin, still turning but only barely. It's so weak under the frame - most of its inner skeleton is just metal beams and a cloud of purple smoke for organs with a black balloon for a head, all wrapped in a tacky costume. For a Heartless, it cannot create a hard shadow body like all the others, so it made itself a hard shell instead.

Like that of a man with a soft ego, too short-sighted to see his his arrest and execution coming, the ghost of a crazy clown who never wanted to be weak again and has only proven himself so.

"It's not as fun like this."

Aqua studies the two gashes on its mask, burnt at the tips and curving outwards.

"Terra did that to you, didn't he?" She scoffs. Her hands are melting into the swords hilt - this isn't fully solid either, and she can feel Garnet's soft puffs of white light healing her fingers the longer she's touching it. "I've faced worse than you in the Realm of Darkness."

She summons her Master's Defender. In darkness, only light slices the way. Even though the Keyblade is blunt and rounded, the point is to reach the heart - and every darkened heart has a weakness to exploit, the very same insecurity that haunted its former human.

Aqua has felt it all with every Heartless she's defeated in the Realm: the grieving, the enraged, the depressed, the vengeful, the feral, the crazy.

She yells, the light off her Keyblade aiming straight for the neck - she promised to be a Wayfinder, and for darkness that simply means releasing them.

Her Keyblade sparks against the gears and she has to look away, and this force burns like steam but she keeps at it. She's not letting this thing dance away tonight.

Kefka screeches.

There are yells about abandoning her with the clown.

Sora yells back that they have to help her.

Riku agrees.

Lea (apprehensively) follows along.

And Aqua keeps doing what she's doing.

Kefka's shoulder budges the moment the purple smoke of its insides release like gas, into her face and up her nostrils. It's putrid and it burns behind her eyes. She coughs but she stands strong until her Keyblade gives way and suddenly there's another collapse and she's falling backwards with the arm.

Something large topples on itself as there's a shimmer in the air.

Cries of amazement. Hollers. Yells to get back as far as possible. Aqua can't tell, it's cloudy in dark purple and she can't see in the gas.

Two pairs of hands grab her by the shoulders and drag her, and there's so much coughing - her throat burns and she hears Riku telling Sora to hurry up and he coughs as well.

It's clear now, the gas slowly fading away and whatever is left of the clown slowly - slowly - topples away like it still wants to resist. First the entire right arm where she chopped it off, then the left, until the knees buckle and its head rolls forward and it all turns black and gets blown open by sparkles of light.

A large heart floats upward, the crowds watching in silence like it's a stunning show they respect too much to interrupt. They don't shift until it floats higher, somewhere high in the sky where Kingdom Hearts will eventually accept its arrival.

The crowd doesn't believe it at first even though it's as clear as day. Claps start, then sobs, then whoops, then hugs and kisses, and a melting of relief rolled into a platter of overused desperation that still needs a place to be served.

The fight is over, and the night is as bright as the dawn.

There's so much happiness but all Aqua feels is shivering - it's so cold all of a sudden and her teeth chatter.

Riku is on his hands and knees, hacking.

Sora is on his side, his hand rubbing a massive headache and he moans.

Donald and Goofy run to his side, the former giving him a lecture instead of congratulating all the accomplishments of the night, and Goofy swings Sora over his shoulder to carry him away.

Lea throws Riku's arm around his shoulders. "Come on, buddy," he says, patting Riku's back.

Cloud gently carries Aqua in his arms, whispering, "I wasn't expecting that. It's impressive."

But it hurts to swallow and she doesn't say anything back. He lowers her onto a stretcher, in between Riku and Sora, who each have their own.

Riku rolls his head. "I can't quite believe it. Stupid clown."

Sora makes a trembling thumbs-up. "We did it." It plops down.

Gasps and sobs make way near them, and Garnet wanders into view, unable to keep up with her smiling tears, her gloved fingers intertwining with Aqua's.

"It is done. It is over," she says.

"What is happening to me?" Aqua asks hoarsely.

"Oh, you've been poisoned, dear," Garnet says with a sweet smile, leaning over her. "Not to worry. Terra has made sure we've plenty of elixirs."

"Terra…"

It's just like him to always be there.

Even during treasure hunts, where he left clues through the forest to make it easier for her to find him. Like stepping stones on an ocean so she could walk across, and she follows.

Garnet melts into tears again, the cheers silencing her quiet sobs and Lulu is asking for her, gathering everyone except the poor souls on stretchers into a huge embrace.

Celebrations are just as chaotic, nothing like the stars.

The stars. Aqua gasps when she sees them, and it sends her into such a coughing fit that Cloud has to put an oxygen mask over her nose and mouth.

But there they are, dim due to the light pollution. They're her first since she's been freed, and she's forgotten how special she always thought of them - a light to pierce the darkness. Guides to give people directions. Reminders of hope. Wayfinders for all the dreams she's had.

They're beautiful.

#terraqua #aqua #terra #kh fanfic #kingdom hearts fanfiction #noctis lucis caelum #garnet til alexandros #rydia of mist #lulu final fantasy #kefka palazzo #riku #sora #MERRY CHRISTMAS I'M BACK FROM THE DEAD #my fic

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crewhonk · 5 years

Text

rough

Y/N and Steve find themselves in a tense situation when Y/N jeopardizes a mission for the sake of an old agenda.

I Listened to “I Always Wanna Die (sometimes)” by the 1975 so this is why its so emo lol. request shit please!

Warnings: Rough Oral (F/M receiving), Angst, Fear, hints at Stucky X Reader

Words: 2.3K

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“You could have fucked up the mission, Y/N! You could have killed yourself and us!” Steve roared as he slammed the hotel door behind him. You had stormed in in front of him and had already unzipped the jacket of your tactical gear— the cold winter of the Siberian terrain called for it, and as you stormed into the room attempting to get away from him, the jacket seemed too tight and too hot.

“Okay, I get it!” You whipped around and looked at him with a gaze that could kill. “Yeah, I fucked up! You do know my whole schtick before you was taking down In-cell right? I did exist before you, you know!” You screamed. You had fought the organization since you were thirteen and at twenty you had been recruited by the Avengers after Ultron. You had always fought with them, but you did oftentimes go off on your own to take down small councils of In-cel. The mission was a simple recon— some Russian mobster was providing HYDRA with powerful weapons, and the team was simply supposed to gather information. You had fucked up by killing a man who you had been hunting for quite some time. You knew you had made a mistake, but you would never admit it to your too-proud boyfriend.

“Oh, don’t you go that direction.” He snarled, walking closer to you, invading your space and making your heart clench. “I absolutely know this—“

“No, you don’t, because every life, every moment revolves around Captain America!” You growled, marching up and jamming your finger into his chest hard. “Mr. Too-Richeous, too good for anyone but Madame Liberty, huh?”

His eyes darkened impossibly, and he smacked your arm away from him. Before you could even open your mouth to protest, he had you slammed against the wall with your wrists pinned against it. He only needed one and to completely trap you. The breath left your lungs, and you blinked blearily up at Steve, who looked briefly shocked at his own actions before masking them once more with Cap’s Face.

“See? You can’t feel any other emotion if it doesn’t fit the Captains agenda!” You glowered, fighting his grip, but knowing that there would be little chance of your escape. “Let! Me! Go!” You flailed, kicking his thighs and even going so far as to headbutt him. You groaned, resting your head against the wall as you felt an almost immediate headache spread from the top of your skull to the tips of your shoulders. You tried to pull your hands away from his grasp to nurse your head, but his fingers tightened around you, making you whimper.

“Are you finished.” He said, quietly. His voice was lethal and monotone, and it shook you right to your core. His bearded jaw was clenched, and his hair was falling over his deep-set brow and over his darkened eyes— with anger or lust, you had no idea. You felt his heart beating through your chests, and you swore you felt his cock beginning to harden against your stomach, but you wouldn’t be able to tell for sure— you were both so close it was hard to decipher anything that was going on. No matter how frustrated you were with this new, angrier version of Steve, you never failed to be rendered useless when he invaded your space like this. Pliant, under his angry gaze.

“Yes.” You panted, suddenly very quiet, and very submissive to this hulking, angry man. His lips were plump and tender from tearing at the dry skin anxiously with his teeth and felt warm and hard when he crashed them to your own. The kiss was angry— a mess of teeth and tongue and growls against skin. He bent down, and picked you up with one arm— the other still preoccupied with binding your hands above your head, and you helped secure yourself by wrapping your thighs around his slim waist. You ground your hips into his, and his grip weakened around your wrists enough to escape his grasp before quite literally tearing open his jacket and pushing down his shoulders. Your anger and desire made your strength increase tenfold, so the metal of the zipper was useless under your touch.

“You ripped my jacket.” He said, stating the obvious, before turning and throwing you onto the old mattress. The springs dug into your back, and you gasped as you swore something pinched you. You couldn’t turn and find the culprit, however, because Steve’s heavy body was suddenly pinning you down, sucking and biting dark, purple bruises over your body. His teeth scraped against your neck, and his tongue snuck from his lips to sooth the marks he was making. He was marking his territory— something he had begun to do after he rescued you from the RAFT. He needed something that was just his, and he needed physical proof that could ground him when he was feeling like the world was collapsing around him.

He pulled your undershirt over your head, flinging it somewhere in the room. He tore your sports bra in half, throwing it onto a lamp, making it crash to the floor and shatter on the thin carpet. He didn’t seem to care much, as his red-tinting gaze zeroed in on your naked torso before capturing a nipple between his teeth. He sucked the soft flesh, and your fingers weaved through his dirty hair, pulling him closer and thriving in the way that his mouth sent chills spreading across your body. By the time your breast was peppered with bruises and swollen bite marks, he kissed down your ribs, nipping and leaving cool kisses over your stomach. He had always loved every curve and line and scar, and no matter how angry he got he would always make sure to show how much he adored you.

He pulled away to roll your heavy tactical pants off after he rid your feet of your boots, kissing your ankles, the inside of your knees and calves. He nuzzled the soft flesh of your inner thighs, and the hair on his jaw tickled you in the most delightful way, making your muscles twitch in anticipation. He hooked his arms around your legs, resting his hands over your lower belly to keep you from escaping his unrelenting mouth. He inhaled deeply, and without giving you a chance to prepare, he licked a fat stripe up the cotton of your underwear and latched onto the area he knew your clit was. You threw your head back, and opened your mouth to moan, but no sound would come out.

He pulled away (much to your brief dismay) to tear your underwear up the middle and dove in, sinking the tip of his tongue deep into you while his nose teased your clit. You gasped, and when you tried to shift your hips, he smacked one of your tits to reprimand you.

“Don’t, Pretty Girl. Don’t move, or I’ll stop and leave you here alone.” You knew the threat was empty, but nevertheless, you didn’t dare test him, knowing how scared and angry he was. He breathed in deeply, and rut his hips against the mattress. “You smell so good, Baby Girl.” You looked down at him, and let out a near-pornographic moan at the sight of your slick coating his beard. One of your favorite parts about this new look of his.

“Thank you, Sir.” You moaned, moving your hand down to intertwine with his fingers on your stomach. He squeezed your hand lightly, and you replied with a small clench of your thighs. No matter how angry he was, he would always want you to be comfortable.

His hips moved in time with his tongue, and you groaned loudly from a place deep in your throat. He moaned as the friction of the mattress against the shaft of his cock gave him some relief as his erection grew and slowly became more painful. Fuck, you tasted so good. Fuck, you drove him crazy on every fucking level, but damn did you ever taste like heaven.

The combination of his relentless lapping, and his motions against the bed, and the beard burning your inner thighs drove you wild, and soon your thighs were tightening around his head as your back arched and a long mewl tore from your throat. Your body began to shake the longer you came, and Steve continued to work you with your tongue, slowly bringing you down from your orgasm.

You barely had time to regain the full scope of your vision or hearing before he was crawling up your body, planting a kiss to your lips and continuing to climb until his hands were balancing himself on the headboard, his impossibly thick thighs were straddling your shoulders, and his red, swollen cock was pressed against your lips. You opened your mouth, sucking the deep red tip into your mouth and tasting the salty pre-cum dripping off of him. You groaned around him quietly, and he grunted, thrusting lightly and you opened your jaw wider to allow more of him to enter you. Soon, he was thrusting lightly against the back of your throat, and he looked down at your pretty face taking his cock so well.

When he pulled out to allow you to breathe, you smirked up at him, still firey from the fight that had put you into this position. “What, you can’t fuck my face? Not a just way to get off, huh?” You grunted. He mouth dropped open in hazy shock before he thrust himself down your throat, hips pistoning, as he chased his high. He only pulled out three times to allow you to breathe, groaning at the strands of spit and cum that bound you to his body.

“I’m gonna cum, Pretty Girl. I’m gonna cum down your throat.” He grunted, thrusting hard enough to slam the bed into the wall. “Finally get you to stop running that pretty little mouth.”

Your nails dug into his ass, still covered by his tactical pants and pulled him close, swallowing around his girth and curling your body up to keep him right there. He came down your throat, shuddering, and hunching over to press his head against the peeling wallpaper as his orgasm ripped his body open, hot ribbons of cum warming your throat.

He pulled himself from your throat, and your lips chased him, desperate for his taste. You captured him in your mouth once more, and one of Steve’s gentle hands came to push away the hair that had fallen into your eyes. You hummed around him and sucked quite hard, making him gasp and pull his sensitive cock from your mouth.

He rolled around and sat on the pillows while resting against the headboard he had splintered when he came before pulling you into his lap and kissing the top of your hair as your rested your head against his bare chest. You heard his rapid heartbeat, and kissed his peck, making him hum.

“I was so scared, Y/N.” He whispered, voice thick with emotion. You sat up, still straddling him, and rested your hands on his shoulders. “I saw him pull the trigger and I saw the bullet and I thought I was gonna see you die. You’re the only thing I have left in this world. I can’t lose you.” You watched as his eyes pooled with unshed tears and you leaned forward, kissing his eyelids and then the tears that you caught on his cheekbones.

“I’m sorry, Stevie. I’m sorry about what I said earlier.” Your voice was raspy, and he frowned, more tears leaking from the corners of his eyes as his hand came to gently press themselves to your throat as if he had healing powers and could make you feel better somehow. “I was so angry, and I’m just worried about you. I figured once we were in Wakanda a few years ago that we would stay there and rest, but you’re just too good. You’re so good, but you’re also so tired. I’m so worried about you.” You whispered, catching every tear that fell from his eyes with either the pad of your thumb or the soft touch of your lips.

“How about this. When we go home next week, me and you stay in a hut somewhere with Bucky. Sam and Nat can go somewhere if they need to— they can keep saving the world, but me and you and Buck will sleep in late, and only wake up when the goats get too loud.” He smiled when the corners of your lips twitched. His hands rested on your hips and drew circles on the muscle and fat you always complained about. “He can have sex all day if you want, or we can hang out with Shuri all day, or we can spend the day neck deep in water. We can do all of that if you really want to.”

“Really?” You whispered, hopefully. Steve, who had fought aliens and robots and worked 120 hour weeks to keep the world safe was suggesting you go back to Wakanda with him and do absolutely nothing.

“Promise.” He whispered, raising his hand and holding out a pinky. You smirked, wrapping your own around his and kissing the place where you touched.

“I love you, Steve Rogers.” You whispered, resting your cheek against your fists.

“I love you, Y/N Y/L/N.”

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hopeisour4letteredword · 5 years

Text

Coffee Break

Summary: Flynn gets his chat over coffee, but he and Yuri still can’t help catching on each others’ rough edges.

Part of the Feeling Pretty Good About the Trouble That I’m In series. Link to AO3 in the notes.

The coffee shop is one of Flynn’s favorites. Not his absolute favorite, because Yuri got weird about it and shot him down when he suggested that one. But this place is still up near the top of the list. Not too expensive, either. Hopefully some good food will ease a little bit of the tension from this meet up.

Flynn tries not to fidget as he waits out front. Is his outfit alright? He didn’t know what to wear for this. When he meets his coworkers and classmates, he usually shoots for business casual. But this isn’t a coworker or a classmate, it’s Yuri, and that makes everything paradoxically more and less important. Flynn erred on the casual side, one of his favorite worn t-shirts and a light, comfortable over-shirt, and he’s still irrationally afraid Yuri’s going to show up and call it pretentious.

He’s a little early. He has no right to be anxious that Yuri is a no-show just because he isn’t here yet. Besides, Yuri’s run late for everything before and after they were on the fencing team together in high school, so—

“Hey,” Yuri says, at precisely eleven o’ clock, giving Flynn a goddamn heart attack. Flynn whips around to stare at him. He’s got his hands shoved into his pockets, an untucked button-down shirt and jeans on, and a leash on one wrist that trails down to a panting but cheerful Repede. He looks just as uncomfortable as he did at the veterinary clinic. “Hope you don’t mind a third wheel. I don’t like to leave him home alone if I’ve got a choice, but I can take him b—“

“No!” Flynn says, hastily. As though he would ever be unhappy with Repede. He mentally ushers himself away from thoughts of intimate situations where he actually might prefer Repede’s absence. Those were only ever pipe dreams even at their relationship’s closest, and Yuri barely wants to talk to him right now. “No, you don’t have to do that. I’ll order for you while you grab one of the patio tables for us. Do you know what you want?”

“Just, like.” Yuri scrubs at his face. He seems exhausted. “A black coffee. And a plain croissant, or whatever they have that’s closest. I don’t have much of an appetite.”

Flynn frowns, considering his appearance. He has dark bags under his eyes, and he looks a little pale. “Do...you want to take a rain check? Because if—“

“No,” Yuri snaps, then visibly takes a deep breath. “Sorry. I worked late. There’s not really going to be a good time to meet up when that won’t be true.”

“Okay,” Flynn says, carefully. “Coffee and a black croissant—oh, hell, I mean—“

He’s already made a fool of himself. It’s worth it, though, because a solid 75 percent of the tension leaks out of Yuri’s shoulders as he muffles laughter into his hand, a twinkle in his eye for the first time Flynn’s seen in years.

“A croissant and black coffee,” Flynn corrects himself. It’s hard not to smile in return when Yuri grins like that. God, Flynn had almost forgotten how beautiful he is. Pictures have never done Yuri justice. They can’t capture his vibrancy. “Do you want the receipt?”

“Yeah, I’ll pay you back.”

Flynn thinks about announcing it’s his treat, then remembers Yuri’s fight with Schwann at the clinic. “Sure thing.”

He leaves Yuri to pick a table and goes inside to order. Croissant, black coffee—Flynn almost orders him a large, because he looks like he needs it, but then feels guilty about making that call when Yuri’s going to be the one shelling out the extra money—and for Flynn, soup in a bread bowl and an iced tea. He loiters until the order is ready, watching Yuri through the glass shopfront. He’s slumped bonelessly into his chair, head lifted off the table just enough to look at something on his phone. Repede lounges in the shade under the table at his feet. Now that Flynn’s looking at both of them together, it’s a little disconcerting how healthy Repede is in direct contrast with how wrecked Yuri seems. Flynn shakes himself out of his thoughts long enough to collect the tray with their food and take it outside.

“So,” he says. Yuri grabs his coffee off the tray without looking before Flynn can even put it down all the way. His phone stays out until Flynn is all the way into his seat. “What’s new with you?”

Yuri shrugs. His gaze flickers up to meet Flynn’s, then back down to his croissant. “I told you, not a lot. Same routine as usual.”

“What about your new roommates?” Flynn presses.

“I don’t know what to tell you about them.”

That’s fine. Flynn works out enough to carry this conversation for a long while. Yuri will probably loosen up once Flynn can get him going. “Well, what are their names? What do they do?”

“Judy and Estelle, they’re the ones with jobs. Judy bartends and waitresses. She’s a real livewire. She does kickboxing and capoeira on the side. Estelle’s got a part time at the local library, and Hanks is a little soft on her, so he’s been giving her a little money for helping with tutoring at the community center. She’s pretty good at it, he’s been trying to get her to start her own gig. Made her draft some flyers and everything.”

“They sound fun,” Flynn says, a little wistfully. He wonders if Judy gets to spar with Yuri. He misses being able to do that. He wouldn’t mind meeting this Estelle, either—ever since Miss Estellise went missing, he hasn’t had anyone to discuss fine literature with. For a fleeting second he wonders if maybe, possibly Estelle is Estellise. Surely, though, someone would have said something to the police by now if that were true? Flynn had a meeting with Alexei just last week, and he said she was still missing. “How’d you meet them?”

“Judy and I used to work together. We both got fired for not putting up with a customer’s bullshit.” Of course they did. That’s Yuri all over. “We stayed friends after that, and she moved in a while ago after... stuff. Her business, not mine to tell. Estelle and I met at the community center. She needed a place to stay so I’m putting her up until she sorts herself out.”

“That’s very kind of you.” And just as typically Yuri as the way he got fired. He never could look away while somebody needed help and he might be able to provide it. Yuri shrugs off the praise. “You said there are others?”

“Karol and Rita,” Yuri says. He knocks back a long swig of coffee. “School kids. Twelve and fifteen. Babies, really. Technically, legally speaking, Judy and I are fostering them.”

“Didn’t Schwann—I mean, Dr. Oltorain, he said you’re in a two-bedroom apartment. They let you foster with five people in a two-bedroom apartment? How old is Judy, to be their second guardian?”

Yuri opens his mouth, starts to say something, and then closes it. This process repeats another couple times. Flynn remembers, with the beginnings of dread, that this is Yuri’s usual response to inquiries where the answer is possibly illegal, definitely not great, and sure to disappoint Flynn.

“Yuri...”

“I don’t want to lie to you, but...”

“Yuri, honestly.”

“You asked for it. Rav—Doctor... man, what the fuck is his name? All-terrain?”

“Repede has had the same vet for his entire life. How do you not know his name?”

“I know his name, just not that one.” Yuri gives him a deeply aggrieved look, like Flynn is the unreasonable one here. “He let us pretend we were living with him for the inspection.”

“He what?!”

“I didn’t want to tell you because you obviously respect him, but you asked.”

“That’s—God, that’s not even fair to the kids!”

“You’re right,” Yuri says, visibly losing patience by the second. “It’s so fucked up of me to let the kids—who chose this, I’ll point out—decide that they’d rather live with young adults they trust in temporarily less-than-ideal circumstances instead of, you know, going back to abusive households or a fucking orphanage or something.”

“Children don’t always know what’s best for them—“

“And adults don’t always listen enough to know what’s best for them, either.”

“Other people in their lives can help make that call!”

“Yeah, they did. Do you think Raven helped us get custody because we’re inept guardians?” Yuri slams a hand against the table top. His coffee sloshes dangerously in its cup. “Do you think Hanks would let me do this if he thought it was an unlivable situation? Do you think I haven’t looked at the apartment and wondered if this is really fucking okay? I don’t want them to have to live like this, Flynn! But if Karol isn’t with us, he’ll be with someone who hits him! I’m not alright with that! If Rita isn’t with us, she’ll be self-isolating and self-destructing with some stranger she hates who doesn’t care as long as she’s not actively causing them trouble and they still get a paycheck! I’m not just going to sit on my ass and watch that happen because my apartment is small right now!”

His volume gets higher and higher as he talks, until he’s almost shouting at the end. He’s on the edge of his chair, hackles raised, hands clenching the edge of the table. Flynn watches him, frozen in place. Yuri’s chest heaves for breath for a moment, until he collapses backwards into his chair, throat working with a hard swallow. When he talks again, it’s quieter.

“We’re... we’re working on it, alright? We’re trying to find a new place. Between me and Judy and Estelle, we should be able to upgrade to a three-bedroom, if we find a cheap one that isn’t also, like, filled with asbestos or some shit.”

“I had no idea,” Flynn says, softly. “I shouldn’t have—I had no idea.”

“Of course not,” Yuri says, wearily. “Yell at Yuri first, ask questions later. Standard procedure.”

“You know it’s not like that.”

“Do I?”

“I’m not—you know I’ve always respected your ability to follow through in hard situations, but sometimes it’s just... I worry about you.”

“You have a weird way of showing it,” Yuri mutters.

“You never listen to me when I try to be more subtle about it!”

“When the hell have you tried to be subtle about it?!” Yuri props an elbow on the edge of the table so he can sink his face into his palm. “You never ask questions before you flip out on me, you never go ‘hey, maybe that’s not a great idea, could you explain why you’re doing it that way?’ You just jump straight down my damn throat to chew me out! Sometimes shit isn’t so clear cut, alright? I know it’s my own fault for putting myself in these situations in the first place, but sometimes you have to make a hard call.”

“I—“ Flynn rubs his hands over his own face, breathing through gritted teeth. Only Yuri has ever been this infuriating. “Why does it always have to be you? You’re always the one making the hard calls. Why can’t you let somebody else take the heat for once? Why can’t you ever give yourself a break?”

“How am I supposed to know anybody else will follow through? I can’t leave that to chance.”

“Of course you can’t.”

“Don’t patronize me.”

“I’m not trying to! How are you so determined to defend the value of human compassion and so cynical about other people at the same time? It makes no sense.”

“Are you seriously asking me why I’m cynical about the foster system?”

Flynn winces.

“Look, a lot of people are good. Karol and Rita and Judy and Estelle, they’re good. The people who would have power over them if I backed down and let things happen, they’re shit-tier, awful people. This isn’t, like, commentary on humanity. These specific people suck.”

“So get some good people with power involved.”

“Like who?”

“Like—I don’t know, like Schwann. Why couldn’t you live with him for real?”

Yuri laughs, but it sounds a little hysterical. “Flynn, Schwann Oltorain is an alcoholic.”

“What? No.”

“I told you, Judy and I see him a lot at our bartending jobs. Too much.”

“That’s not funny.”

“No, it’s not. If it was, I’d let him take Karol. Karol likes Raven. But I think nihilistic drunk and childcare don’t really mix. So Karol stays with me until Judy can bully Raven into attending some AA meetings.”

“He never acts drunk or hungover at the clinic.”

“So what? A high-functioning alcoholic is still an alcoholic.”

“Maybe it’s not as bad as—“

“Raven agrees with me.”

...There wasn’t really a way to argue with that.

“Can I... I just want to try to explain myself.”

“By all means.” Yuri crosses his arms.

“You’re... I know it’s been a long time since we talked, but you’re still my best friend, you know that? I get it if you don’t feel that way about me anymore, but... It just feels like you’re always taking the risky moves to protect everyone else and it keeps blowing up in your face, over and over again. And I do worry about you, I really, really do. And I respect that you want to help people, and I respect that you’re willing to sacrifice yourself in the process, but it feels like you take bigger risks than you need to, sometimes, and that freaks me out.”

Yuri sighs. “What’s the smaller risk I could be taking, here?”

“I’m not even talking about this specific problem, it’s just. In general. I’m more worried about the pattern. I don’t know, get the bigger apartment first before you adopt the kids?”

“If I left the kids where they were, they’d still be getting abused while I got my shit together,” Yuri says. The fight has gone out of him again, and he just looks tired. “Besides, they’re the ones who kept showing up. The whole reason we bothered to put the paperwork through was so we wouldn’t get charged with kidnapping.”

“Jesus, Yuri.”

“I’m flattered, but no, I’m still regular old Yuri Lowell.”

Flynn snorts despite himself. “There’s nothing regular about you.”

“I’m gonna pretend that’s a compliment.”

“Good, that’s how I meant it.”

“Uh-huh. Can we change the subject now?”

“Yeah, okay.” Flynn stirs his soup a little, eating a spoonful while he thinks. It’s gone lukewarm in the time he and Yuri were arguing. “New roommates, apartment shopping... Is anything else new with you?”

“Well,” Yuri says. He’s staring down into his coffee. “Estelle had me do some tests, and it turns out I’m dyslexic. Probably. So that’s something.”

Flynn feels his face fall as he processes the news. How many years did they go to school together? Twelve? Thirteen? And he never once guessed, none of the times Yuri complained that reading was just a confusing jumble of words, none of the times Flynn watched him sit down and force himself to read something two, three times before he could glean enough information from it to answer whatever questions he needed to.

“I’m...I’m sorry,” he says. He starts to reach across the table, then hesitates, then makes himself finish the action. His fingertips glance over Yuri’s wrist, just above his bracelet. Yuri’s eyes flick to his hand and stay there. “For—for not noticing, and for how hard that must—“

Yuri snorts. “Hard? It’s not like it’s doing me any harm now. I’m a dropout. You don’t exactly read all that much in the service industry.”

“Are you joking?” Flynn asks, incredulously. “Do you really think this had nothing to do with you dropping out?”

Yuri finally looks up at that, his mouth set in a grim mockery of a smile. “I mean, speaking as the one who dropped out, I’m pretty sure it was just because I blew my chance, man.”

“You’re impossible.”

Yuri shrugs. He’s done it so many times during this conversation that Flynn is starting to hate it a little bit. “Sure.”

“Can you take this seriously? Please, Yuri.”

“You used up all of my emotional honesty tokens on the last topic.”

“I really hate it when you do this.”

“Do what?”

“You get so flippant whenever you get fucked over. This is exactly why I worry about you. Would it kill you to let yourself be mad about it for once? To let me be mad for you for once?”

“If we get mad about the injustice of fate or the universe or whatever, we’ll never stop being mad. We’ll just burn out.”

“You’re already always mad.”

“Yeah, but sustainably.”

“...Elaborate.”

“I’m mad at societal systems, not the universe. We can do something to change societal systems. It’s productive anger.”

Flynn sighs, taking his hand away from Yuri’s arm to run it through his hair. As though societal systems have nothing to do with Yuri’s learning disorder and academic issues? Of course, Yuri never applies these things to himself. Somehow it only counts for other people. Flynn doesn’t know why it surprises him anymore. “Okay. Sure. Productive anger, I guess that makes sense.”

“I’m done with talking about myself,” Yuri says, abruptly. “What about you? What’s new with you? How’s vet school?”

“It’s good,” Flynn says, reflexively. It’s just Yuri. Flynn doesn’t need to persuade him that he deserves his place there. “Hard,” he admits after another beat. “It’s a lot to keep up with.”

“Yeah, it’s like... med school lite, isn’t it?”

“I don’t think that’s a very good way to describe it, but I haven’t been to med school, so I guess I don’t know. You would hate it, though.”

“Oh yeah?”

“There’s not really breaks, on a day-to-day level. And you start by covering anatomy with a lot of dissections.”

“...Ouch.” Yuri’s face twists into an uncomfortable moue. He always did hate dissections in high school. It’s cute, in a way, knowing that his big heart is behind it. Flynn doesn’t miss the discrete way he shifts in his seat, either, presumably bumping his legs against Repede to reassure himself. Repede makes a sleepy whuffling sound. “How about friends? Roommates? Hot dates?”

“No roommates,” Flynn says, scratching the back of his neck. “I’ve got some study buddies from my classes, but we don’t do much together aside from classwork. It’s hard to have any kind of social life outside academia in vet school. Classes and labs and studying take up so much of my time... and now the clinic, too.”

Yuri flicks a piece of croissant at him. It lands in Flynn’s soup. This is the asshole Flynn is too hung up on to date other people. “If you’re that busy, you shouldn’t—“

“Don’t you dare tell me I shouldn’t be spending time with you,” Flynn warns him. It comes out a lot sharper than he means it to; Yuri’s eyes go wide. He won’t take it back, though, not when he can see in Yuri’s face that he guessed correctly. “Working with Schwann, and getting to see you again—it reminds me why I’m doing all this work, you know? And I have to know what you’re up to if I’m supposed to keep up.”

“You, keeping up with me?” Yuri snorts. “I think you’ve got that backwards.”

“You’re already helping people in the real world,” Flynn says. “I’m still in training.”

“You don’t exactly ignore people in need either, dude.”

“Take the damn compliment.”

“Oh my God, fine. Stop trying to kick me, you’re going to hit Repede.”

“You’re such a pain.”

“I’m a fucking delight,” Yuri says, solemnly, then breaks into a proud grin when Flynn throws his head back and laughs. “Come on. You really haven’t made any friends at vet school? None?”

“The first year of vet school is hard!”

“Wow. That’s just sad.”

“I’m hoping to join some student organizations or sports clubs next semester, when I’ve got my feet under me.”

“...You think you’d go back to fencing?”

Flynn chews on his lip. “...I don’t know. It might feel wrong, without you and Coach Niren and the rest of the team.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you...”

“Still miss him?”

“Yeah.”

Yuri wordlessly holds up his wrist. Flynn doesn’t need further elaboration on the worn-down bracelet. He remembers just as well as Yuri when Niren passed the leather cords out to the team on the bus to a tournament. Hisca and Chastel taught them all how to do the braiding so that the bracelet size was adjustable. Yuri’s didn’t turn out half bad, but Flynn’s is lumpy and misshapen. It doesn’t adjust as much as it’s supposed to.

“I’ve still got mine, too,” Flynn says. He fishes it out of his pocket. His keys are connected to it. “We can’t have accessories during labs and I wouldn’t want to get all that junk on it anyway, so...”

Yuri smiles crookedly. “Yours will last longer than mine, then.”

“Maybe.” It’s already in better shape than Yuri’s. “You’ve got Repede, though.”

“Repede isn’t just a reminder of Coach and Lambert,” Yuri says, defensively. Repede stirs at their feet at the mention of his name. Flynn reaches over to pat Yuri’s arm in placation.

“I know, I know. Sorry. I didn’t mean it that way.”

“...You ended up with any pets of your own yet?”

“My current apartment doesn’t allow it... my lease is up soon, though. I’m hoping to move somewhere that lets me have a dog.” It would be hard, taking care of a dog and keeping up with vet school, but maybe it would help him with his work-life balance.

“Ha. We could do play-dates with your dog and Repede.”

Flynn feels his eyes crinkle up with his grin. “Yeah. That would be nice.”

They just smile at each other for a second. It’s still a little awkward, not quite as smooth as their conversations used to be, but Flynn already feels lighter than he has in months. Yuri looks a hundred times better than he did when he showed up. He nibbles at his croissant instead of just poking at it, and he’s relinquished his death grip on the coffee cup. Flynn opens his mouth to say something disgustingly sentimental—

And a loud beep makes them both jump about a foot in the air. Flynn forces himself to relax while Yuri curses and scrambles for his phone. Repede lurches into motion below the table, hackles raised. “Shit, sorry, I set a timer—goddamn, have we really been talking that long? I’m supposed to pick Rita up—“

“Oh, no, are you late?”

“Not yet, that’s what the timer’s for. Hey, do you need a ride anywhere? I can drop you off—”

“Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to delay you—“

“You’ll delay me more by being wishy-washy. Yes or no, Flynn?”

“Yes,” Flynn says, firmly. “If you could drop me off at the clinic, that would be great. Where are you parked? I’ll bus our table while you get the car warmed up.”

Yuri waves a hand vaguely to the east and sprints off with Repede before Flynn can ask him to elaborate. Flynn rolls his eyes, but he still can’t wipe the silly grin off his face. Classic Yuri. They haven’t solved any of their problems yet, not for real, but maybe... maybe this time around, they’ve got a shot at it.

#fluri #flynn scifo #yuri lowell #tales of vesperia #Feeling Pretty Good About the Trouble That I’m In #long post #not art

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snowbellewells · 5 years

Text

Face to Face in the Broad Daylight: Chapter Two

(Once again, it took me a bit longer than a week, so I do apologize for leaving you hanging on the cliffie from last chapter. Hope you enjoy this one!

And once again, thanks SO MUCH to @branlovestowrite for this amazing story banner!!)

~chapter two: lying in wait

Though in wolf form Ruby could have loped away in seconds with her long legs and left them in the dust, she paced herself anxiously, clearly determined to lead them along with her further into the pathless woods. Emma didn’t know just what had happened; there were no sounds of battle or distress, Ruby didn’t appear injured, but she was clearly upset, as her low whines if they lagged behind her even slightly made clear. However, her lupine form couldn’t speak to explain, and so they simply had to follow to see for themselves and hope they were in time to help. Every so often, Ruby’s snout rose to deftly scent the air blowing through the dense trees, making sure she hadn’t lost her way, and Emma supposed that needing to be sure of her way back had to be why Ruby hadn’t transformed into her human self again yet. Well, that and the speed at which she could travel, Emma’s mind supplied ruefully as she huffed for air, pressed her hand against the stitch in her side and tried to keep going. Those tawny, golden eyes within the pointed, grey-flecked face searched hers pleadingly for a moment, though unnaturally beguiling, there was a very human urgency in their depths that pushed the two deputies just a little further. She was nearly at the end of her endurance; Emma sensed her lupine friend knew it too, but she gritted her teeth and kept putting one foot in front of the other.

Killian was fairing much better; his were-strength and endurance aiding him greatly, even if he didn’t possess the same speed as a man that he did as a wolf. Still, even he looked a bit winded and confused, possibly because he didn’t have the impetus Ruby did to reach their goal. Emma was just wondering that they didn’t have some sort of pack telepathy for communication as she might have thought, or if it just didn’t work since Killian hadn’t shifted, when they burst from the dense trees into a rough clearing of sorts and her heart leapt into her throat for an entirely different reason.

Just to their left, as Ruby skidded to a halt and threw back her head to release a mournful, chilling howl before finally dashing over to the large tree they were all staring at. Her clothes lay in a pile by the motionless form, sitting leaned up against the trunk as if the person had merely stopped there for a rest, except for the ugly reality of the rapidly blooming dark bruise at the unresponsive older woman’s temple and stretching down the side of her face, and the crossbow still clutched in her frozen hands ready to fight.

Ruby lowered to the ground, stretching and elongating so fluidly Emma felt that if she had blinked she would have missed her change into the leggy human bombshell she knew. This was a Ruby she’d never seen though, tears smeared down her cheeks along with her mascara, twigs caught in her long, red-streaked dark hair as she haphazardly threw on her clothes, all the while calling her Grandmother’s name.

“Granny, wake up!” she urged, placing her hand on the stout matron’s arm and shaking as much as she dared. “Please!”

Snapping into motion again, Emma hurried over to kneel at the diner owner’s other side. Granny Lucas was tough, having supported herself and her granddaughter alone for years once widowed, both in their homeland and there in Storybrooke; she wouldn’t have gone down without a fight, that much Emma knew for sure. Checking for a pulse, which she found easily - strong, if a bit more sluggish than she would have liked - she nodded to both her friend and her mate encouragingly before pulling out her phone to call for an ambulance, then Graham at the station, and her father at home. They were going to need all hands on deck if whatever sort of attacker had struck was still prowling in the forest.

Even as she repeatedly explained the situation over her cell, she could see Killian directing Ruby to gently ease her Granny away from the tree to lie flat and hopefully more comfortably, though they didn’t dare move her further without knowing what was wrong. Even as she hung up with her father, after assuring him they would be on guard, they they had things under control until backup arrived, she could hear Killian’s soothing lilt, speaking to Ruby in low tones, calming her from the shock of seeing her indomitable, tough guardian in such a state.

Emma turned her attention back to them fully, her calls completed, just in time to see Killian place his hands bracingly on his fellow wolf’s forearms, even as her now large brown eyes turned up to them plaintively and she squared her shoulders, bringing her sniffling under control. “Listen to me, Lass,” Killian was saying. “There’s no sign of a scuffle here besides your grandmother lying unconscious. You found her this way? You didn’t see anything?”

Ruby nodded forlornly, clutching her grandmother’s hand even as she met first Killian’s, and then Emma’s, eyes steadily. She was out here wild mushroom hunting - told me that was where was going this morning after the rush. We usually have a lull between breakfast and lunch when she runs a few errands. I got worried when she wasn’t back for the noon crush. Once things calmed down again, I decided maybe I ought to go looking. B-but she...she was already like this when I got here. I figured I could get back to town and help more quickly if I shifted, and well - you know the rest.”

Both of them listened wordlessly, not doubting their friend, but not sure what to make of the scene before them either. Someone - or something - had struck the Widow Lucas down, but had left little trace behind. The old bird would have left a dent of her own, no doubt, so why was there no sign of the skirmish, or the damage she was capable of inflicting with her formidable temper and bow? The ground was even and dry, not terrain that would have caused the woman to slip or fall easily on her own either. And that bruise on the side of her head looked awfully large and nasty to be from a simple fall. Yet, no blood, no tracks, no torn up earth gave them anything to lead them to the perpetrator of foul play. Something simply didn’t add up.

Killian’s blue eyes met Emma’s over Granny’s prone form, even as they heard the ambulance sirens wailing toward them from the road. They’d had a nice little break, but once again something evil had found its way to Storybrooke. Just what were they in for now?

~~***~~***~~

The woman in deep midnight blue stood looking placidly out over the lake, seeming as if nothing ruffled her gentle expression or pensive bearing in the slightest. The gathering dusk made her rather shrouded from the casual eye at a glance, quiet possibly how she intended it. Her dark, luxuriant hair, and pale complexion was further hidden by the cloak draped over her head and shoulders of the same indigo hue as her rather old-fashioned dress, a robe hanging all the way down to her silent, slippered feet. If one had noticed her at all, they would have quickly passed on without disturbing her placid reflection. Even at a glance, there seemed to be something forbidding, warning others to keep their distance and refrain from interrupting her contemplation of the still, deep waters.

When the darkness around her deepened into the shadows of full night, the mysterious woman still didn’t budge, clearly bothered neither by the absence of daylight nor the passage of time, patient to wait for her expected meeting. When the popping sound of the air at her back announced the sudden appearance of a magical being, the stranger never flinched, merely turned with an amused smirk and arched brow to her newly arrived compatriot.

“You haven’t changed a bit, have you?” she purred, taking a step forward without hesitation or concern. “Still making it clear you work for no other, on no time table but your own.” She came to stand face-to-face with the similarly dark-clothed newcomer, pausing in her speech as she looked the other up and down, before adding in a smugly pleased tone, “And yet, for all your power plays, I was the one called upon to help you.” She let out a titter of a laugh, eyes sparking in her falsely attractive heart-shaped face with a calculating mirth. “Isn’t that right, Dark One?”

For a moment, the moon overhead drifted free clear of the covering clouds and the thin, sharp face of Mr. Gold, Rumplestiltskin - the Dark One - was revealed in its eerie glow. His voice was soft as he leaned into his visitor’s space, until they were nearly brushing noses, the same sort of frighteningly playful malice laced through his own words as he reached out to pat her alabaster cheek with an uncomfortably gentle hand. “Come now, Dearie,” he admonished, tutting as he did it with condescension. “You know you wanted to prove yourself useful to me. You always have… Morgana.”

~~***~~***~~

That same night, Graham looked up from the phone call he was just ending with Ruby as Belle slipped through the door of his little cottage amidst the trees further inland at the other edge of the large woods surrounding Storybrooke. His adoptive sister had called to update him on Granny from the hospital, where they were keeping the older woman for observation. He had asked his love to come out to the more secluded spot for certain privacy as he tried to fill her in on the mysterious and disturbing events of the day. None of them had seen any further traces of whatever had given Granny the frightening knock on the head and resulting unconsciousness, but seeing as how Ruby had just informed him that the woman who’d taken them both in was now sitting up in her hospital bed haranguing nurses who urged her to keep still and demanding to know who was running the diner if they were both absent, Graham felt safely assured that Granny would soon be right as rain again. In fact, Ruby had exasperatedly related, in a tone that made Graham shake his head and chuckle at the picture it evoked, the woman hadn’t stopped shoving away her stilling hand and trying to yank out monitors and clamber out of bed until she’d convinced her that Snow and David had the business well in hand until closing, and that Ashley Hermann had volunteered to close her fledgling Mommy and Me daycare for the following morning to help Snow open and handle the breakfast rush.

He stood to greet Belle eagerly, glad to see her again and to have her there safe as well. A part of him had worried if it were smart to have her driving out to his place alone after the attack, but Belle was determined that she wanted to be kept in the loop and able to help if she could, and was not about to be coddled. “I had enough of that with Rumple,” she’d warned him tartly when he had offered to come and pick her up or to meet her before work the next morning. “He would always claim to be protecting me, doing what was best, when really all he needed was me out of the way and in the dark, so he could do his damage that caused the danger in the first place. I’m not made of glass, and I’m not going to shatter. I can help,” she’d finished bluntly.

And Graham really couldn’t argue with that. Still, he was infinitely relieved as he crossed the room to gather her into a tight embrace. Making sure the door was carefully barred and the curtains drawn over all the windows, he then just stood breathing in her clean, simple fragrance of chamomile tea, lilac soap, and the ever-present hint of old book pages where his nose was buried in her hair, swaying gently from side to side. Possibly he was holding on a bit tightly, he reflected after a few minutes while neither of them spoke, merely leaned into each other and drank in the other’s warmth. Reluctantly, he released Belle just long enough to take her hand and lead her over to the large, overstuffed chair in the corner by the fireplace and then gently pulled her down to sit with him, curled up half in his lap.

Giggling lightly, Belle brushed back a few errant honey-colored curls off his forehead and playfully teased, “Missed me, did you?” She bit her lower lip delicately afterwards, tracing fingers down his face to rest her hand on his shoulder, as if not wanting to break contract any more than he.

Offering a crooked smile and nod at his own expense, Graham still spoke with full sincerity when he answered, “You know that I did.”

Both of them settled more comfortably into the wide seat, wrapped up in each other and neither one feeling any desire to move. Graham felt his pulse begin to hammer more rapidly as Belle played with his shirt’s buttons beneath the trim waistcoat he often favored on work days, deftly slipping her small hand beneath the chambray fabric to rest on the warm skin over his heart. Breathing in through his nose deeply, the sheriff schooled his body’s immediate reaction, seeing that she was seeking comfort rather than to set him aflame as she rested her head on his shoulder lightly and asked, “Did your canvas find anything? Any trace of who or what might have hurt Granny?”

He shook his head, releasing a heavy sigh as well. “No,” was the lowly murmured answer. “There really was very little left behind at the scene. All we have to go on is how Ruby found her and the strike to the head. Granny doesn’t remember anything.”

“Wait...nothing?” Belle interrupted, pulling back to look up into Graham’s face more fully. “How is that possible? She must have seen something.”

Graham’s gaze was equally puzzled and concerned as he stared back into her own searching expression. Shrugging as if at a loss, he finally replied wearily. “I know it doesn’t make much sense, but all Granny seems able to tell us is that she remembers going out there to pick mushrooms for that Swiss Melt burger of hers - she’s got some secret spot. Then the next thing she knew, she was coming to in the ambulance with Emma and Ruby both hovering over her along with the EMT. Everything else in between is a blank.”

“Almost as though someone cast a memory curse and wiped her mind clean,” Belle filled in darkly, knowing well that little else would explain such a complete void, and that in Storybrooke such an affliction could be all too common.

“Aye,” Graham agreed, knowing that she was right. It was something they had already discussed - he, Emma, Killian, and David - after trudging back to the station empty handed to reconvene before going their separate ways for the night. It was most likely some sort of memory curse, leading to the more sinister question of who had cast it and why? What was the culprit plotting that needed to be covered up? It hadn’t escaped any of them either that it could very well lead right back to Gold. True, Emma’s order with the dagger prevented him from harming them directly, but none of them were naive enough to think that he had forgotten his grudges, nor that he would simply simmer quietly forever without finding a way around their safeguards. Either he was already making his first strike, or he had found someone willing to make it for him in one of his notorious deals. There was no proof yet, or reason why Granny had borne the brunt of whatever the move was, but Gold was clever enough to hide his true motives, and it put Graham more on edge than ever. Especially for the woman in his arms who had already suffered more than enough. It was why he hadn’t wanted to go to her in the library this evening or to stay with her in her cozy apartment above it. Gold knew those places too well, was too familiar with any location in the town itself. He had magic, he could be lurking anywhere and overhearing them, watching them at any time…

He was just telling himself that he was perhaps getting a bit paranoid when Belle burrowed her nose into his chest adorably, squeezing her arms around him affectionately, before sitting up to look at him straight on. “All of you believe this is tied to Rumple somehow, don’t you?” she asked quietly, a bit of regretful sadness coloring her tone, but - Graham was pleased to note - not nearly the depth of heartache such a certainty would once have caused.

He merely nodded, covering her hand on his chest with his own and squeezing it in reassurance.

“I’m sure you’re probably right,” she added after a pause. “He never will learn.” She stood, almost as if to square her shoulders and go back to her beloved collection of books and get started even yet that night, ready to throw herself into research in an effort to be useful - despite them not even knowing a direction in which to point her. “Our work’s cut out for us then,” she added firmly. “If you stop by tomorrow on your way to the station, I might have some possible accomplices he has history with, or some memory spells that could indicate the one used on Granny, if I burn the midnight oil. Maybe I could even do a bit of poking around at the shop or spy on him carefully in the next few days. I doubt it would take much to convince him that I still wish to at least be friends...” Her chin was jutting out in determination, but her last statement had her voice quavering as her words trailed off.

But Graham was already lurching to his feet as well, reaching out for her anxiously as though he feared she might be about to dash out the door into the night. “Belle,” he pled, taking both her hands and bringing each to his mouth one by one, unfurling the fingers she had clenched into trembling fists to place a tender kiss into the center of each palm. “Please don’t go. It isn’t safe. We don’t know who is out there. Even if they’re working with Gold or not. I intended for you to stay here…” he hesitated, eyes wide and hopeful, “if you want. You know I wake before sunrise to sneak in a wolf run.”

At that at least Belle’s mouth lifted into a tentative smile at one corner, giving him the nerve to go on.

“But stay here tonight, where I can know that you’re safe,” he pressed. “I won’t tell you what to do. You’re free to do as you see fit… but please don’t put yourself at risk or engage with him. He wants you back, and he would only hurt you again. I do not know if I would survive you… a-and our pup… being taken from me by that monster. Just… please… stay…”

His voice broke then, making Belle’s breath catch at just how much she and their unborn child meant to him. Graham’s calloused but careful touch swept an escaped strand of hair out of her face as she gazed up at him, more than a little bit awestruck, until she nodded wordlessly in acquiescence.

“Thank you,” he whispered bending to kiss her, drawing her close into an embrace that swept her up so fully she found herself standing on her tiptoes to get nearer still.

“No, thank you,” she finally gasped when they separated for air, “for caring - for both of us - so dearly.” She placed her hand over her stomach, knowing it still appeared mostly flat, but something in her heart convinced her she already felt the little being there all the same.

“Always, my darling,” he promised in a raspy voice, emotion still on raw display.

Then she gently slipped her fingers through his and let him lead her up the wooden staircase to bed. Right then she wanted nothing more than to curl into his side, let the man she loved surround her and hold her until morning. There was another battle for them to face and fight, but it would just have to wait until the new day dawned.

Tagging: @cssns @kmomof4 @jennjenn615 @teamhook @revanmeetra87 @searchingwardrobes @hollyethecurious @winterbaby89 @resident-of-storybrooke @whimsicallyenchantedrose @spartanguard @branlovestowrite @bmbbcs4evr @laschatzi @gingerchangeling @blackwidownat2814

#cssns 19 #cs mc au ff #cs werewolf au #ouat au ff #face to face in the broad daylight #werewolf killian #graham x belle #chapter two

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feliicityrampant · 6 years

Text

here’s the first part of a mchanzo fantasy/witch au. it’s ~2800 words. i have a lot of ideas about it so i hope i finish it. it’s not edited much tho. consider it an interest inquiry?

(untitled as of now)

“Do you believe in true love?” Old Mina says, her stout figure blocking out the sun.

Jesse is ten years old, crouched in the bed of her garden with dirt trapped deep under his finger nails. Everyone in the village says Old Mina is a nasty hag who can’t be trusted. Jesse doesn’t understand why he’s being punished this way, why he’s been sent up to weed her garden over a little fist fight.

The adults don’t think the kids in the village hear the stuff they say about Old Mina. They think they’re all scared of her just because she’s mean. But Jesse’s not stupid and neither are the others and they all know. Old Mina is powerful. She’s the strongest witch in the valley, even stronger than the coven leader. Worse than that, though, she’s selfish, and she likes to play games. Nobody wants to be unlucky enough to catch her attention.

So Jesse squints up at Old Mina, her features barely visible when she’s back-lit so heavily by the lowering sun, and he does his best to squash the urge to run. He’s not a coward. And, even if he was, he wouldn’t want her smelling his fear.

“Of course I don’t,” Jesse says mulishly. “That’s girl stuff.” He reaches up and pulls his hat snugger on his head, seeking comfort in the familiar feel of the rough leather.

Old Mina laughs. “Let me see that hand of yours, boy,” she says, and snatches it quick as lightning off the brim of his hat.

She hunches even further, her long nails digging into his palm as she examines it roughly. Jesse is thankful he’s been out working in the sun for the last hour. It’s a convenient excuse for the sweat gathering under her critical gaze. He doesn’t dare move, even to wipe his brow or ease his aching knees.

“You should believe in true love,” Old Mina concludes after what seems like forever. She drops his hand and smiles nastily down at him. “Yours is going to kill you.”

Jesse goes home trembling that evening. When his mother asks him what’s wrong he just shakes his head and goes to bed without dinner. He sleeps fitfully that night and his dreams are disturbed.

It’s a long time before Jesse works up the nerve to talk to Old Mina, not just about what she said, but about other things as well. He’s twelve when he’s brave enough and really has the desire. But by that time, he’s been banished, exiled from the valley, and it’s already too late.

Jesse has stopped for a drink in a small nothing of a town out in the foothills of the Black Tip Mountains when he hears about the Shimada.

The mountains are half a day’s journey south and the nearest town on the other side is another day’s journey from the highest part of the pass. It’d be easier and faster with a horse or a mule, but beasts don’t like him much. So he’s having a drink and contemplating his options, staring out through the bar windows at the peaks, dark like ink stains against the blue afternoon sky. He’ll stay in town the night, he thinks, and take off in the morning. Make it through the worst of the trip tomorrow and camp out at the bottom of the pass on the other side. The weather’s been good so far, but at this time of April it’s hard to know what’s coming unless you’ve Seen it.

“…heard about Paulina,” Jesse overhears, mostly by mistake. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“We weren’t very close, but I appreciate it,” another voice says. “I’m just glad we found her in the end. It would’ve been worse for my aunt and uncle, the not knowing.”

“She went missing up on the pass, right?” the first voice asks. “That’s difficult terrain to search. How was she found, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Jesse slides his eyes away from the window and tracks the conversation to its source – two middle aged men at a table in the corner. Their hands are calloused and their clothes are rough. His best guess is that they work at one of the mills along the river. Lumber is the town’s primary economy.

“One of the Shimada found her,” one of them is saying. “Seems like there was a block on the pass and she tried to bushwhack around it. She got lost off the path and there was a mudslide. It carried her halfway down the Prince, into the shadow of the King.”

The three mountains that make up the Black Tips are the Black Prince, the Black King, and the Black Queen. The Prince is the smallest and the only one safe enough to traverse for most of the year. But there’s always bad luck. The man’s companion hums, sympathetic.

“Still,” Paulina’s cousin continues, “the Shimada said she didn’t suffer much. She probably died within the first few moments of the mudslide.” He pauses to take a drink. “He didn’t charge. It was good of him.”

Jesse turns back to his own drink. He should probably reevaluate his plans to cross the pass, anyway, if there’s been mudslides and blocked roads. Normally that would annoy him, but it seems like there are things of interest out here in the middle of nowhere after all. He catches the attention of the bartender who’s wiping down the counter not far from Jesse and motions him over.

“The Shimada,” he says, “they a coven?”

“A coven?” the bartender repeats. “Not really. There’s only the two of them and they don’t have ancestral roots. They’re witches though, and they Keep like a coven does.”

“Hm,” Jesse says, and scratches at his stubble.

Covens are land-bound. It’s important for them to stay as families, tied to the earth where they’ve spilled ritual blood for generations. It’s part of why Jesse’s banishment hurt so much. He’s heard here and there of covens who weren’t land-bound – even been part of one for a short time – but they tend to be migratory, binding to other things, like rivers, or otherwise just going where and doing as they please. It’s weird to hear of one without ancestral roots doing something like Keeping.

Covens that live in or near towns and villages have a bond with the people who live there because those people in turn have a bond with the land. They Keep them, do magic for them, heal their sick and tend their crops, usually in exchange for payment of some kind. Jesse’s coven had been modest and the village it Kept even more so. They worked for food and livestock for the most part. But there were covens in cities and mining towns who were wealthy beyond description.

“Where can I find them?” Jesse asks.

The bartender eyes him a little doubtfully but nods his head toward the river. “Upstream about ten miles or so,” he says. “They have a place right on the river. It’s probably not worth your time, though. Plenty of folks like you have come through here in the past looking for them but they turn ‘em all away. Don’t like big magic, or so I’ve heard.”

Folks like me? Jesse thinks. Big magic?

“Well I won’t bother them none,” Jesse says with a smile, the kind that makes most people trust him, never mind his rough appearances. “I’m just curious, ‘sall.”

Unless they’re as good at tracking as that little conversation has led him to believe. But he keeps that thought to himself.

Jesse cracks his back as he stands and grabs his hat off the counter. He places it on his head, tips it gratefully to the bartender, and leaves a bit more than he owes next to his empty glass.

The Shimada residence is certainly upstream about ten miles or so, emphasis on the “or so”, but there’s no clear path and the forest grows thicker and thicker the further from town he gets. He tries to imagine the townspeople making this trip for anything less than a dire emergency but finds it difficult. (Then again, it sounds like they make a habit of crossing the pass, so maybe they’re hardier than they seem.) By the time Jesse emerges out of the woods into the clearing where the small house sits, the sun is getting low and the golden light of dusk is spilling through the trees in intervals, like shards of warm glass.

The building itself is sturdy and old fashioned, with a woven grass roof and dark cedar paneled walls. The whole building is raised slightly, surrounded by an open porch, and the door – made of paper and that same cedar – appears to slide open. Jesse steps up onto the porch and puzzles at the door slightly before deciding to rap lightly on the wood frame. The door jostles a little but the sound isn’t very loud.

When no response comes, Jesse carefully slides his head into the entrance hall. “Excuse me,” he calls. “Is anyone home?”

For a moment, there’s nothing, and then a door slides open down the hall and a man steps out. He’s tall and dark skinned, with no hair and a series of nine dots on his forehead. He’s wearing a yukata and it’s only because the sleeves are rolled and tied up past his elbows that Jesse can tell that he’s not a human at all. There, barely noticeable, are the thin seams along the joints that indicate that this is a construct.

Jesse blinks, caught off guard. It’s been a long time since he’s seen an animated construct in working condition, let alone one in the shape of a human. They’re difficult to make and almost universally disliked. It’s off putting to see one, especially out here, and especially with folks who claim not to like “big magic.”

“Hello,” the construct says. “Forgive me for not coming sooner – we just sat down to dinner.”

“Oh, no, I didn’t mean to intrude,” Jesse says, eyeing the construct a bit at his phrasing. Constructs can’t eat. “I can come back another time.”

“Ah,” the construct says. “That won’t be necessary. Have you eaten? There’s plenty of food.”

“That’s mighty kind of you,” Jesse grins, not bothering to try to conceal his growling stomach. “Food sounds great. You folks are hard to find.”

He kicks off his shoes in the concrete entrance hall and steps up onto the straw mats of the main hallway. He feels a bit self-conscious – his socks have holes in them and he’s been travelling in them for a long time. They’re probably not much of a step up from his shoes.

The construct leads him back down the hallway to the open doorway and gestures for Jesse to enter. It’s a large, airy room, with more sliding doors that have been pushed open to reveal the porch and, beyond it, the river, which it seems like the house juts out over by a little bit. In the center of the room is a low table surrounded by cushions. Two men are sitting there, eating what looks like a hot pot of some kind.

The man on the left is lounging back, looking at Jesse with open curiosity. He has bright green hair and an open expression – though Jesse knows better than most that looks can be deceiving. He’s wearing a yukata nearly as blindingly bright as his hair, blue and covered in green foliage, hanging open at the chest and thighs probably a bit further than propriety dictates, though Jesse doesn’t have enough familiarity with the garment to say one way or the other. His only point of comparison is the construct and the man on the right.

The man on the right is distinctly more subdued. He sits upright with his legs crossed and a look of displeasure on his face. His black hair is held up in a tight ponytail and his dark yukata is immaculate. Only one thing sets him apart as extraordinary – two coils of bright blue that encircled his neck.

At first Jesse thinks they’re tattoos of some kind, but then they begin to shift, slithering silently across the man’s skin with a kind of languid grace. Two heads appear out of the man’s yukata and begin hissing quietly in his ear. Snakes, Jesse realizes. Familiars, by the looks of them. The man glances at them for a moment, and then back at Jesse. His expression of displeasure does not change.

Although Jesse had eagerly followed the construct at the promise of food, he now again feels as though he’s intruding, and can’t bring himself to sit down at the small table and join what is clearly a modest family dinner. He instead removes his hat and presses it over his heart.

“My apologies for coming at such a late hour,” he says. “Jesse McCree, at your service.”

“Don’t worry about it,” the man on the left says with a grin. “Visitors are always welcome when there’s nothing happening. I can’t even eat when I’m bored.”

The man on the right snorts in an inelegant way apropos to his appearances and the construct hums as though it wants to voice an opinion. Which is impossible. Constructs don’t have opinions.

“I’m Genji,” the man on the left continues, ignoring them. “This is my brother Hanzo. And this is Zenyatta.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, McCree,” the construct, Zenyatta, says.

“Jesse’s fine,” Jesse says. “And the pleasure is mine.”

“Sit down, sit down,” Genji says, patting a free cushion. “Where are you from, Jesse?”

“Uh, here and there,” Jesse says, sinking down onto the cushion as directed. His knees and back ache a bit at sitting on the floor like this. He doesn’t see how the two men who look to be about his age can manage it so casually. Particularly Hanzo, who has a distinguished swath of grey behind his ears. “I’m more interested in y’all, if I’m being honest. Haven’t heard of a coven Keeping without ancestral roots before.”

“That’s none of your business,” Hanzo says peevishly. He sets down his bowl and chopsticks with a click and focuses a glare on Jesse. “If you intend to interrupt our supper, Mr. McCree, you could at least do us the favor of being forthright. What do you want?”

Jesse definitely feels like he can’t eat now, no matter how hungry he is, but the construct – Zenyatta, he reminds himself – has already knelt across from him and is passing him a bowl filled with broth and noodles and mushrooms and beef.

“Don’t be such a buzzkill, Hanzo,” Genji whines. “Can’t you see something interesting when it’s sitting in front of you? How’d you lose your eye, Jesse?”

Jesse reaches up to touch his eyepatch, startled at having it so directly called out. He’s saved the discomfort of having to answer, however.

“Genji,” Zenyatta admonishes in a sharp tone.

“Oops,” Genji says, looking cowed. “Sorry. But it is interesting.”

“Nothing good ever came of interesting,” Hanzo says. “Mr. McCree, please don’t waste my time.”

“It’s just Jesse, if you don’t mind,” Jesse says, although it’s painfully clear that Hanzo does, in fact, mind. “But I heard in town that y’all were good at finding people and I was hoping you could help me track down a comrade of mine.”

“Is she pretty?” Genji asks.

Jesse laughs. “He’s, uh, old, and kind of scruffy, and…doesn’t really want to be found. I’ve been looking for him for about a year now. Heard he might be down near the coast but that’s all I know and it’s just a rumor.”

“That’s far,” Genji says, but his eyes slide over to Hanzo almost at once.

Hanzo can do it, Jesse thinks with a jolt of sudden hope. It’s just a matter of whether or not he wants to.

“I really would appreciate any kind of help y’all can give me,” Jesse appeals. “He’s something like a father to me, y’see, and he’s not exactly. He’s sick. He needs me and he won’t admit it.”

Hanzo sighs and looks out at the river. One of his snakes raises its head and begins hissing again.

“What’s his name?” Hanzo asks.

“Gabriel Reyes.”

If the name means anything to them, they don’t show it.

Hanzo considers a little more. The snakes hiss a little more. It’s eerie. Jesse wishes he could understand what they’re saying.

“What will you pay me?” Hanzo asks.

“Well I don’t have much…”

“That much is obvious.”

“…but we can do an exchange, if you like,” Jesse finishes, unperturbed. “I’m no good at scrying or anything, but I’m a witch in my own right.”

“Oh?” Genji says, leaning forward. “What can you do?”

Jesse eyes them warily and drums his fingers nervously against his thigh. He can feel Hanzo’s eyes burning into the side of his face. He clears his throat.

“I can talk to the dead.”

#me earlier today: i can't write anymore #me also today: *a million world building ideas surge into my brain all at once*#mchanzo

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helloorandomfandom · 6 years

Text

Softie

“Eric Coulter x Four’s sister!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of abuse and suicide.

I have a feeling this will flop because it’s kinda an old fandom. Plz don’t flop. It makes me feel bad. :(

I picked up the small, silver blade and felt my breath hitch as I cut into my palm. Crimson blood seeped out the cut and my eyes drifted between the five bowls holding my future. My test results were inconclusive so I could belong in any of the five, it’s my choice. I glance into the crowd of grey and study them. Then I glance at my father, Marcus. His face is is blank but I can see past that, he is worried. Worried that I will change, change just like Tobias did. And change I will. I turn my hand over the coals and a drop slips down as I hear the sizzle of the impact.

Marcus takes a deep breath and huffs out. “Dauntless.”

The Dauntless crowd erupts into applause and excited whistles as the Abnegation shockingly whispers to one another. The Erudite just look smug, what for though?

A smile is plastered on my face as I step off the stage and over to the sea of black. A young looking boy pulls me into a hug and steps away so I can be seated. The rest of the ceremony is quite boring the odd shocking transfer or the predictable person who stays. The ceremony is over and I feel a tap on my shoulder. Turning around I see the rows of black running out the door in a hurry so obviously I join. We reach the outside and sprint down the gravel roads I notice another speck of grey in between the darker shade. My feet pick up their pace and soon I am next to the girl.

“Hey! I’m Y/n.” You say slowing your pace to meet hers.

“Beatrice.” The girl puffed out.

Soon the two of you were climbing scaffolding onto the train tracks and jumping onto the moving train as it came past. Inside the compartment packed filled with the people of my new faction, I met a girl called Christina. She was rather blunt and blatantly honest, her coming from candor and all.

“Great, two stiffs.” A brown haired boy said from above you before disappearing into the crowd.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t stand this anymore.” I said before standing up and pulling the ugly, floor-length, grey curtain off revealing a set of grey sweatpants.

A few whistles came from the people closest. The train began slowing down and one boy stated that they were jumping. Everyone followed leaving Christina, Beatrice and I alone in the train.

“One three?” Christina stated more than asking.

“One.” Beatrice started.

“Two.” I added.

“Three.” Christina finished.

All three of us launched ourselves out the cart and across a gap until our bodies met the gravel roof, scraping up our exposed flesh or ripping holes in our clothes as we landed.

I stood up and brushed some of the small rocks from my pants, palms and arms being careful with the scraped skin around my fingers and the bruise on my wrist. I noticed that everyone began gathering around a man who had tattoos lining up his neck and multiple piercings in various areas all over his face which intrigued me.

“My name is Eric, and to prove you are worthy of being dauntless, you will jump.”

“What is there like water at the bottom or something?” Will, a boy I met asked.

“I guess you’ll have to find out. So who’s first?” Eric asked jumping from the ledge.

The crowd of mixed shades and colours murmured but no one volunteered.

“Me.”

“I’ll go.”

Beatrice and I stated at the same time causing us to break out in laughter.

“Together?” She asked.

“Why not?” I stated.

Both of us climbed the small ledge Eric was previously standing on and peered over the edge. Off the edge there was a dark hole in another roof which you assumed you had to drop through.

“Today initiates.” Eric’s voice said rather monotony. “Jeez Eric, you’re asking us to jump into the unknown abyss-”

Before you could finish Beatrice had grasped your arms and you took that as a signal to jump before she had to pull you. You closed your eyes and felt the air blow past your body. Soon you reached the end and hit a net as you and Beatrice bounced before she was pulled out by someone.

“I’m Four. What’s your name?”

Beatrice stared at him dumbfounded.

“You can pick a new one.”

“Tris.” She stated.

The man pulled me out of the net and asked me the same question.

“You should already know that. Four.” You spat.

“First jumpers. Tris and Y/n.”

Tris and I were guided over to a section of the room to wait for the Dauntless borns and other transfers.

“How do you know him?” Tris pestered for the third time.

“I don’t think he wants anyone to know.” I responded.

The two of us stood in silence amongst the others that soon joined.

“Follow me.” Four yelled to the group after scolding Christina for opening her mouth.

We followed Four around the Dauntless complex and stopped at a place called the ‘Pit’, only to be told to return to the cafeteria for dinner before being sent back to the dorms. Everyone took a shower and changed into the new clothes provided.

“Nice legs Stiff.” Peter taunted towards Tris.

“Leave her alone Peter.” I snapped, zipping my jacket and reuniting with Christina.

Four came in and instructed us to bring our old factions clothes. We walked in a line towards a large metal bin containing flames. I took the dirty grey clothes from Abnegation and tossed them into the fire before swiftly walking away and into the cafeteria.

“Here I guess.” Christina said before taking a seat.

I slid in next to her and Tris next to me. We began talking with Al and Will, some of our new friends about our old factions.

“I don’t want to hear about your old factions, you’re Dauntless now.”

“So where you a transfer?” Tris questioned.

I looked away and reached for the pendant hanging around my neck. Zoning out from the rest of the conversation and focusing on the small piece of metal.

‘Be brave’

Was printed on the front of the pendant. This was the first time I was allowed to show it, ever. You see in Abnegation only a simple watch is permitted, but having baggy clothes and being overlooked often had its perks.

I finished my meal and followed the dark halls towards what I thought was the dorms.

“You lost?” A familiar voice asked.

“Who says I’m lost? Perhaps I’m just scouting the terrain.”

“You’re lost.” The man, the voice matched stepped out from the shadows. Eric.

“Na shit.”

“Come on initiate.”

Eric placed his hand in the small of my back and led me to the dorms.

“Thanks.” I said turning to Eric who nodded as his response before disappearing out the room.

“Ooo, do tell.” Christina said as girly as possible. “What’s there to tell? I’m a clumsy person who easily gets lost in an unfamiliar area.”

“Sureee.”

This was for Tobias. WHACK! That was for mom. WHAM! And that was for me! Punch, after punch. The anger I desperately needed to release was coming out. My bag was moving furiously, much more than anyone else’s. You know that feeling you get when you feel like someone’s watching you? Yeah I’m having that feeling except someone is watching me. Four.

“Are you just going to stare at me all day?” I asked not faltering my movements.

“He’s not, but I might.” Eric’s voice interrupted. “Four get back to work.” He instructed.

I huffed and returned to punching the bag furiously. In the corner of my eye I saw Eric move from his standing position.

“Tense here.” He instructed and rested his hands on my stomach, lingering a little to long. “and curl you fists more.”

I did as he instructed and surprisingly the bag, now, instead of sporadic swinging was more controlled. Eric’s heavy boots made their way to the other side of the training center and I let out a breath I was unintentionally holding.

The next few days of training were pretty ordinary but today was different.

“Alright initiates. Y/n, Al in the ring.” Four’s voice echoed.

I stepped into the ring meeting Al there. We were instructed to fight until one couldn’t meaning, knock out.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” He said lifting his arms.

“Then I’ll hurt you.” You responded giving a swift hit to his throat.

The blow caused him to clutch his throat and let out a cough. Al recovered and took a swing which was barely blocked by your arm, but blocked nonetheless. You took advantage of his exposed side and swung your elbow into it. He bent over allowing you access to his head. Instead of causing him more pain, the inside of you palm met his temple and he was out cold.

“Sorry.” You whispered picking up his limp body. Four helped you take him to the infirmary.

“Tobias, I’m not mad at you.”

“You should be.”

“Why? You got out when you could. Now I have.”

“You’re still not safe.”

“What?”

“Eric’s taken a deep liking to you, which I disapprove of greatly, you need to be careful. He’s not a good person.”

It was visiting day and Marcus was standing alone in the middle of the pit.

“Marcus.” I stated.

“Y/n honey. How are you? How’s training? What’s it like?”

“You don’t get to ask about me anymore. I’m supposed to distance myself from family. Faction before blood.” I snapped.

He grasped my wrist and squeezed. That’s going to bruise.

“Listen here you little-”

“Bitch, is that what you’re going to call me?” I spat shaking my wrist free. “I think you should leave.”

“No. I’ve come here to visit you.” “Marcus, you’ve done your visiting. Now. Get the fuck...OUT!”

I felt tears well up in my eyes as I stood watching him leave. I was to focused on not crying to notice Eric beside me. He reached for my wrist and held it. I ripped it out of his grasp whimpered in pain and fear.

“Are you okay? Did I hurt you?” I wiped the fallen tears from my rosy cheeks and looked into his crystal blue orbs.

“Not you.”

That was all I said before pushing my way through the crowd and towards the stairs leading to the roof. My feet climbed higher and higher until I reached the door and stepped onto the rough gravel. My body made its’ way over to the edge and stood there. I scanned the broken city and heard the train pass by right on time.

“You’re not going to jump are you?” Tobias’ deep voice asked from behind me.

“No. That would just mean he would win.”

“Did he-?”

“Hurt me? Yes.”

“Are you okay?”

“Is anyone ever okay?”

Tobias approached me and pulled me into a tight hug. My face rested inside the crook of his neck taking in his calming scent. He stroked my hair as I sniffled slowly regaining emotional stability. Neither of us head the door open, to caught up in the moment.

“I love you Y/n.”

“I love you too Tobias.”

I pulled myself from his embrace when I heard the door slam.

“Who was that?”

“Probably Eirc. Told you he took a liking to you.”

I rushed over to the door, flinging it open with force.

“Hey Y/n. Be brave.” He said pulling out the matching necklace.

“I will.” I replied before running after the Dauntless leader.

‘I will’ was the words printed on Tobias’ necklace. The ones we exchanged when he left for Dauntless.

Soon my ears picked up the loud noise of Eric’s trudging boots.

“Eric? Eric wait!” I reached out and grabbed his muscular arm stopping him.

The man tried to break free from my grip, to no avail. Instead I pulled him back up the stairs and to the roof. I took a seat on the edge, legs hanging off the side.

“You wanted to know if I was okay. Well I’m not.”

“Do you love him?”

“Who?”

“Four”

“Of course.”

“That’s all I needed to know.” He stated before going back to the door.

“I’m supposed to. He loves me so I love him back, we protect each other from our fears. You’re supposed to love your siblings you know?”

“Wait? He’s your brother?”

“Uh...yes. Wait did you? Oh my God!” I stuttered out, laughing at the stupidity.

Eric sat back on the edge and pouted.

“Oh don’t be salty. I liked jealous you better.”

“I was not jealous.”

“Sureee. Big bad Eric has the hots for lil’ old me.”

“Yeah, so?”

“You know, you aren’t so bad. Maybe a little soft...ooh I can’t wait to tell everyone. ERIC’S A SOFTIE!”

“Don’t you dare.” He attempted to sound threatening.

“Too late.”

In an instant I was up and running down the stairs. I could hear Eric’s boots quickly following suit which only inspired me to move faster. By the time I reached the pit it was packed.

“HEY EVERYO-!” I was cut off by a pair of arms picking me up bridal style and a pair of lips cutting off my speech.

The kiss was full of passion and rather comforting. The crowd around took notice and began cheering us on. As our lips parted the roars volume spiked and I wrapped my arms around Eric’s thick neck.

“You big softie.”

“Only for you Y/n.”

“Good I don’t like sharing much.”

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