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cheelduh · 3 years

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How to get your crush to walk you to the nurse’s office (Highschool AU)

This is part 3, but it can be read alone!

Pairing: Childe x fem!reader

Warnings: Swearing, Mentions of a monster schlong, and unedited.

Parts: 1 2

Synopsis: Childe offers Lisa a shady deal to yet again sit next to you. However, all his efforts are in vain after he makes a complete fool out of himself by tripping over literally nothing because of a stupid cold. Maybe getting a cold isn’t so bad if he gets to be escorted to the nurse’s office by none other than yourself.

Note: Pure unedited crack luvs. Can’t wait for Childe rerun tmr I hope I get the ginger and the emo nun! 🥲💖

The eyes on you are suffocating, to say the least, enough for you to consider peeling a layer of your own skin off just to breathe. Every now and then, you get a teasing glance from a classmate, and you're sure you'll be an entire puddle of guts on your desk before home room even gets a chance to begin.

There's no doubt it's Signora that spread the news of your date yesterday as a means to some sick revenge. Knowing this was going to happen, you packed some salt in your backpack to cancel out all her evil. Now all you need is a chance to knuckle ball it in her face.

Fingers crossed, you pray to the archons that Childe didn't slip anything about your...brick slip yesterday. It's a good thing you weren't in a school uniform yesterday because that would've been the end of your high school life right there.

Thinking back to it, you collapse into your open hands. How could you have beaten a bunch up losers up...risking your flawless reputation for a sadistic ginger with an affinity for chaos? And worst of all, why did you care about them shit talking him in the first place?

"You okay dear? Something you want to tell me?" Lisa feigns concern, already knowing why.

With a sigh, you blink an eye open through the gap in your fingers. "Doing just fine."

"Oh it couldn't have been that bad." Her eyes shine in mischief. "I bet Childe was a real gentleman."

"He sure was." Kaeya pipes up from the back, leaning in to show you the image on his phone. It's a picture Childe took of you absolutely oblitering an ice cream cone.

You groan and slump deeper into your chair from embarrassment as Kaeya and Lisa engage in chatter, mostly revolving around your date.

Ignoring them completely, you start to ponder about Childe. Where is he? You were sure he'd be here bright and early to reminisce on your eventful date yesterday, which mostly consisted of a competition of who could win the most stall games at a local festival.

Maybe he'd even tease you about the Monoceros Caeli keychain attached to your phone. The very one he'd won for you, and the reason that started the competition in the first place.

Your cheeks warm when you fidget with said keychain, and you can't tell if the fast pace of your heart is because you're nervous to see him or because of the biology quiz you have second period.

So wrapped up in all these foreign emotions, you fail to notice the shadow that looms over you, a glittery finger guard tapping at your desk.

The student council President, Ningguang, plops down a stack of budget files on your desk during homeroom. She's gives you a light smile, and you know what's coming when you meet her alluring gaze.

"Be a dear Y/N," Ningguang smiles, tight lipped, all pretty with her hair pinned back to crown her face. "Even with all hands on deck, i'm afraid the student council's efforts will not come to ripeness concerning all of this paperwork."

This isn't the first time you've done her a favour by becoming the president's personal accountant, and it definitely isn't going to be the last.

Ningguang is powerful, with wit like no other, and you want to be able to call in a chit when the time comes.

"Of course," You reply with a smile that rivals her own. "I'll have them done by the end of the day."

"Excellent. I knew I could count on you, Y/N." She departs elegantly, probably opting to sit next to Beidou and bicker.

You're halfway on the third sheet for total income, a minute before class starts, when you're interrupted. Childe stumbles through the door quite noisily, a shitstain of a grin plastered on his face that is directed at you.

You sigh and shake your head as he approaches you. Thankfully the seat next to you is occupied by—

Shit! Where's Lisa?

Across the classroom, Lisa gives you a thumbs up with a bar of vending machine chocolate in her hand. You should've known she'd betray you yet again.

Childe slides in smoothly after bumping fists with Kaeya, and he falls short of containing his giddy nature.

"Hi Y/N." There's something weird about him today, because you're sure you haven't seen his cheeks so flushed ever. His eyes land on your phone, which is splayed on the desk, and the keychain widens his grin.

You snatch your phone and hide it in the middles of your thighs, but the damage is already done. The urge to shrink against the wall has never been as strong as it is in this moment.

"Hi." It's a miracle you haven't combusted on the spot. Is it usually this awkward? Everything went so fine yesterday, so why can't you ease into it today?

He takes that as a go ahead and instantly reaches for your hand on the table, but you retract at the speed of light.

"Don't even think about it." You're ready to connect the tip of your trainers to his bleached asshole, nose crinkled at his behaviour.

Kaeya whistles lowly, leaning forward for the HD show that is your life.

Childe's smile is sheepish as he's scratching the back of his head. "So we're not on that stage yet huh? I seriously thought you had a change of heart after you beat up those high schoolers for m—"

You muffle his statement with a hand on his mouth, and send a pointed glare to Kaeya. "You didn't hear shit."

The Captain of the skating team nods innocently, and salutes. "Yes boss."

Returning your gaze to Childe, who looks like he's having the time of his life with your small hand on his mouth, you narrow your eyes. "Stop trying to spread rumours."

He can only hum in reply, but you feel a weird pressure on your palm and—

The smug asshole kisses your palm.

You pull back your hand and wipe at your pants, full of disbelief. "Did you just??? Did you just? Kiss my hand???" Mouth twisted, you have no idea what to think.

Childe's throws his head back, and his laugh rings in your ears. You hate yourself for wavering slightly at the sound before smacking his arm. His laughs turn into coughs, probably because he may have swallowed his saliva down the wrong pipe. Charming.

Where the fuck is Zhongli? It's already been five minutes too long into homeroom.

Rolling your eyes, you opt to continue and scribble down budget numbers and add sums up or whatever you were doing earlier after Childe pipes down, choosing to admire you quietly by leaning his weight on one arm. It's enough to make you squirm, face flushed.

"Can you not?" Clicking your tongue in disapproval, you don't look up as you speak.

"If you give me a kiss, then maybe." Childe's cheeky, ridiculously so, and he points a finger at his cheek.

"I don't negotiate with terrorists." You deadpan, fingers itching to choke something or rather...someone.

Childe pouts, and then his eyes close for a second, almost as if he's exhausted when he gives you a sort of smile. With how he's leaning in so close, you can easily spot the swelling in his eyes and the paleness of his face.

For the first time today, there's no bite in your tone when you ask with a slightly raised brow. "Are you okay Childe?"

"Yeah!" He's quick to answer ecstatically, snapping out of his tired haze by straightening himself up. "Better more than ever now that I've seen you, girlie."

You blush madly, the compliment enough for you to drop your pen on the ground. It rolls over beyond your reach.

"I'll get that." Childe jumps out of his chair and you're unable to stop him as he goes to go fetch your pen like the chivalrous idiot he is. There's a slight pause in his movement, his body taking longer to process the messages his brain is sending.

He recovers from the muddle in his cognition by shaking his head, and casually goes to pick up the pen, then ends the move by falling over backwards in unconsciousness.

"Childe!" You lunge for him, managing to catch him a second prior to his ass hitting the floor with the help of Kaeya, who somehow looks like he's expected this outcome from the very start.

The entire classroom clamps up and turns to look for the root of all the commotion.

"Don't just sit there and watch!" You hiss angrily, waving them off. "Someone get Zhongli!"

Aether doesn't need to be told twice as Venti and him race down the hall together. Venti probably just to use this opportunity of sudden chaos to skip homeroom.

"Looks like a fever." The Captain accesses the situation as a small crowd forms around you two. "There's no way he didn't feel it in the morning."

"The absolute idiot." You groan at his words. "Of course he'd try to have a pissing match with a cold."

"I'm still here you know." Childe slurs, leaning into you for warmth, chest rising and falling softly. "Just a...a little sleepy. Am I dreaming angel?"

You roll your eyes, but don't make any moves to lean away from his touch. "Anyone got a water bottle?" Curling your hands around his shoulder, you shift your gaze towards the crowd.

Somebody passes you an emerald green water bottle with dandelion charms that clink against the hard plastic handle from a nearby desk. It screams stupid, but you don't have time to judge the owner.

Opening it up hastily, you're about to let Childe take a sip until it's snatched away from you at the speed of light.

"Hey what gives!" You call out to Kaeya, who inspects the bottle closely with his one eye. He then nods in affirmation as if his suspicions are confirmed.

"I wouldn't recommend it." Is all he says when he motions for you to take a whiff, which you do so reluctantly, eyes closed.

The scent hits you all it once. It's watered down vodka, except without the watering down. Tears form from the intensity.

"The goddamn bard." You choke out, and it earns you a drained chuckle from the ginger that has his head situated on your forearm.

He has half the mind to nuzzle in further, but the position is convenient enough for you to crush his skull if you wish to do so. So he refrains, albeit reluctantly.

Zhongli manages to make it in less than two minutes, sipping on a cup of steaming tea as he breaks apart the crowd to crouch down. "Is everything alright? I came as soon as I could after I made this tea. I assumed it was just another prank."

Everyone in the room shakes their head incredulously.

"Unfortunately it isn't a prank. Childe fainted briefly." You tell him politely despite the urgency, since you're whipped for all your teachers.

"I didn't faint!" Childe groans, exasperated. "Got a little dizzy s'all."

"Yeah," Kaeya cuts in to summarize the situation. "I'll be happy to take him to the nurses office with Y/N—"

Zhongli clears his throat. "You won't be going anywhere Mr.Alberich. I'm sure you have five overdue assignments in my class. Y/N here can walk him just fine." He then attempts to wink at Childe secretly like the wingman he is, but everyone in the classroom and their grandma notices.

The facepalm you do is not enough to render you brain dead.

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you sigh for the nth time today, and it's only eight thirty in the morning. "No worries, Lisa can help—"

"Sorry cutie. I'm manifesting for the biology quiz." Lisa deflects, lighting three candles on her desk unceremoniously with her eyes closed.

You don't understand why no one has confiscated her box of matches yet. This entire school is a law suit waiting to happen.

You succumb to the team effort everyone is trying so hard to display. "I guess I can go." The hall pass is already written, signed, and neatly folded into the chest pocket of your uniform. "How did you even..."

You don't even get a chance to finish before both you and Childe are whisked away to the outside of the classroom, the door shutting behind you with a slam. Your ears perk up at the sound of a lock clicking in place.

"Looks like you're stuck with me." The smug bastard still has the audacity to beam even when he's pale in the face. "Might have to hold my arm. If I fall and crack my skull—that wouldn't look too good on your record." He makes grabby hands, like a toddler.

The smile you give is unnerving, and with the speed of a snail, you manage to loop in your arm with Childe's. "Another word and let's move on to how your hospital record is going to have more than just a cracked skull."

"If you'd nurse me back to health, it'll all be worth it." The quip he sends without a beat lacks its usual goof, but it does manage to get some sort of reaction out of you.

"Whatever. Let's just get this over with."

—

Childe's busy thumbing at his phone while you pace at the foot of the bed, arms crossed with a frown etched on your features. You hope you don't look too worried, don't want to give him the wrong idea.

"Can we just get this over with?" He wails uncharacteristically from his spot on the white sheeted bed after ruling out everything he wanted to do on his phone. His hair is tousled more than usual, as a by-product of his constant restlessness.

"Shut up." You answer monotonously, arms crossed as you lean against the wall. "Let her finish her tiktok."

Barbara—the daughter of the school nurse, has her phone on the window, lip syncing and dancing to some music on beat as she films a tiktok with the utmost of important.

It's concerning that her father isn't here to tend to your needs, but apparently he's in the middle of a meeting with principle Varka. Said meeting had been going on for the past few months, but this school is devoid of logic anyways so nobody really questions anything.

"I'm literally dying here."

"Archons you're such a baby," Shaking your head, you approach his bed with a newfound annoyance. "Barbara has to create a tiktok at least once every twenty four hours or her fan club goes feral and..."

"Tries to jump off the roof as the ultimate sacrifice to her majesty." Childe sighs, and for the first time you sense his irritation. "Got it."

Just in time, Barbara finishes her cute little dance and comes over to where Childe is laying.

Childe doesn't miss the way your scowl has dissipated, and you give Barbara your undivided attention, hearts in your eyes from all the adoration. He has half the mind to call you out on it, no doubt a little jealous over how the young highschool idol can get you to show more emotion than him.

"I'm so sorry! I started those tiktoks out of mild interest but now I have an obligation to my fans." The younger apologizes profusely, getting to work almost immediately.

"No worries." Childe starts, staying still as the blonde examines him. "I'm sure it's nothing too serious. Y/N here is being dramatic, she probably just wants to spend some alone time with me."

You inhale sharply, turn to Barbara, and ask. "If I jumped out of the window right now from this floor, would it be a quick and easy death?"

The younger girl's eyes widen, and Childe stifles his snort.

"Kidding." You raise your hands up to cease her worries, and then motion towards him. "Common cold?"

"Yes," Barbara moves on and writes down something on a slip. "We'll just keep him here until his parents can pick him up."

"My parents can't pick me up." He asserts in a casual tone. "Don't call them."

"We still have to call them. If they don't come, you're to stay in this bed all day." She hands you the note, which is a viable excuse for all the classes he'll miss today. "Give this to his homeroom teacher. You'd also better get to class, your hall pass is about to expire."

"Hold up." You remark, barely paying attention to the note that you've shoved down your pocket. "I'm not leaving him here alone." There's no room for argument, your decision is firmly stated.

Childe hypes you up in his weakened state, disoriented. "You tell em girlie."

"He won't be alone." Barbara flashes you a reassuring smile. "I'll be monitoring him until his parents get here."

"No, no, you don't understand." You argue, inquiring all the doubts you have. "He's gonna try to pull some shit and I'll have to be here to stop him."

"Ease up babe." Childe tries to calm you down, despite the giddiness in his chest at the realization that you want to take care of him.

His subconscious begs him to let you stay, to let himself be doted and cared for the way he's always wanted you to, but he knows he can't let you skip class. Not when you've worked so hard and come so far. "I'll be okay for a few. You can go back to class and then visit me during break."

You bite your lips, head jumbled with all the different possibilities of how shit can hit the fan. "I can't! What if Signora shows up? She'll poison you in this weakened state to get back at me for trying to exorcise her." The hesitation in your features gives away everything.

Childe's eye twitches at the thought of Signora out of all people getting the best out of him, and also the absolute audacity you have to be calling him weak. Clearly all his efforts towards the little shows of dominance (e.g. Shoving Pallad against a locker, spraying a hefty amount of cologne on, being an asshole in general, etc.) have not bore fruit.

"You tried to exorcise her?" Barbara gasps, momentarily reminding the two of you that she's still present.

"Her evil has no bounds." Your expression is hard to read, dead serious. "I do not regret my attempt at cancelling Satan's hell spawn."

Childe himself has been cancelled hundreds of times over the span of highschool because of all his problematic traits (e.g calling Venti a twink) and it is not a pleasant experience.

Though it does give him a sense of comfort, knowing that arrogant bitch Signora is finally getting what's coming to her, even if she is one of his friends.

Serves her right for trying to Pavlov her stupid Chihuahua into biting the closest human being just by the snap of her manicured finger. As if it's persistent yapping and tendency to run in front of cars isn't enough torture to deal with on a daily basis.

Childe's yanked out of his thoughts rather forcefully at the sound of the door opening abruptly, the handle crashing into the wall, shocking Barbara's attempts to reassure you.

He knows who it is because of his top tier gaydar, dreading what's to come.

Scaramouche is a morose son of a bitch with a mean streak that hasn't been broken since he was an itty bitty shit in the fourth grade.

"I can't believe you let yourself get sick!" The navy haired boy exclaims in disbelief, doubling over with tears, clapping his hands to add on some extra effects. "Natural selection finally decided to stop pussy footing around your primate-looking ass."

You press your lips together. "Isn't he supposed to be your best friend?"

Scaramouche sputters violently, using the wall as leverage to hold himself up. "You told her I'm your best friend? Oh fuck. Oh this is good. What else did you tell her huh? That you have a monster cock?"

"First of all, you make me reconsider my opinion on the death penalty, dickhead."

Barbara is mortified. Childe continues on anyways.

"—and I do have a monster cock. But why are you so interested in my monster cock huh?"

Scaramouche scrunches his face up in disgust, amusement nothing but a distant memory. "You don't have a monster cock you plebe."

Childe has an awfully scandalized expression on his face, but smoothly enough it transitions into an unsettling grin that you're all too familiar with. "You didn't deny not being interested in my monster cock though."

It's your turn to be mortified, shaking your head at the banter that goes on back and forth.

"How did you even know he was in here? We aren't even in the same class."

Scaramouche raises a brow as if you're some sort of toddler that's babbling out a mixture of Cheerios and spit, maybe a few digested strawberries here and there. He waves his phone in front of you, "posted it on his story."

"What the—give me that!" You snatch his phone right up, staring at the screen in bewilderment.

There's a video of you doing trick shots with your tech deck on the ledge of a nearby window with a pressed expression while waiting for Barbara to finish up, captioned with: "In the nurses office rn pray for me 🙏, there's this cute girl in front of me should I ask her out?"

You check the poll and ninety five percent say yes. Scaramouche voted no. You have mixed feelings.

Shaking your head, you give Childe, who's unable to sit still, a look of pure exasperation.

Scaramouche claws his phone back from you rather harshly, the bells on his hat jingling, making it hard for you to take him seriously when he sneers your way.

"You should be thankful you're the lover of my comrade." He shivers slightly at the word comrade. "or I would have obliterated you on the spot for that little stunt."

Childe doesn't even pretend to look fazed at the older's threat when he says "as if I'd allow a kumquat headass like you to touch my girl."

You and Barbara hastily jump in to stop the bloodbath that is seconds from happening. "No!"

Luckily, no limbs are teared apart.

#genshin impact #genshin impact oneshot #kaeya alberich #childe #childe x reader #fanfic #genshin oneshot #genshin tartagalia #tartagila #aether #venti genshin impact #genshin impact venti #kaeya genshin impact

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lonelyghosts-stuff · 3 years

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Thor Ragnarok

A funny, entertaining and enjoyable movie.

A disappointing, gross, character ruining Thor movie.

If the "plot" had been made for completely original characters as just a funny movie with action, not related to Marvel or Thor at all, I probably would LOVE LOVE LOVE it. The awkward humor like from The Grandmaster and Korg is great. I love the little quips from Thor and Loki. But I do not like that they are coming from Thor and Loki and that the past has become but a joke. Acting like Loki has been evil his whole life and only begins redeeming himself at the end of the movie is ridiculous.

Suddenly making Loki super weak, unable to hold up to Valkyrie for longer than a minute or two, unable to break himself free of Doctor Strange's magic, tricked by Thor, and making him just a joke is such an insult to Loki, his fans, and Tom Hiddleston who has poured his heart out into the character. In The Avengers we see Loki kicking arse. In Thor 1, EVEN when Thor had regained his powers, Loki STILL was able to put up a good fight, only really being taken down when Thor placed Mjolnir onto his chest.

In Ragnarok we seem him constantly falling (don't get me wrong, the whole "I HAVE BEEN FALLING... FOR THIRTY MINUTES!" is hilarious, I could have let that pass as Strange getting Loki by surprise. But then immediately getting swept away like nothing? Strange, undeniably a powerful sorcerer, but also relatively new at it, beat a 1000+ year old magical being with more years of combat training and experience than however long Strange has been alive. He gets beaten by Valkyrie, and while you could argue he wasn't trying to kill her so he was going easy on her, a punch to the face shouldn't have immediately rendered Loki unconscious, ESPECIALLY when we have seen him experience worse and not feign consciousness once (ahem ahem... The Hulk in Avengers?) Loki only gets to really show off a bit of his abilities during the battle on the bifrost, arguably one of the only scenes that was "good" for a Thor movie.

Thor went from an imperfect character who struggled with pride and learned his lesson, while still being funny in his own ways, to a dumb, self righteous character who still held Odin in high regards when he did the same and even more of the things that Hela did. He went from noble but still a little superior acting (which was fine and in character as a supposed god on a planet of midgardians) who wanted to stop Loki and convince him to stop what he was doing instead of resorting to attacking him. Remember in Thor 1 when he still tried to plead with Loki and get him to stop? Remember in The Avengers when Thor grabbed Loki from the quinjet because, even though he was doing many, very bad things, he wasn't just going to leave him at the judgement of strangers on earth? And when he confronted Loki he implied that someone else must be controlling Loki since this is such a drastic change? Remember when, even after sending him to his apparent doom from the helicarrier, Thor still approached Loki on Stark tower and tried to convince him to stop doing what he was doing and to come home with him? Where did that go? Where did the Thor that wept for his brothers apparent death TWICE and never gave up on him go? I understand if he might become more reserved, like he did in Thor 2, because that would be realistic. Thor was heartbroken and scared, not knowing what to do and not knowing why Loki did the things he did, feeling like he can't face him. Suddenly he's okay with leaving Loki to shake in pain from an obedience disc WHICH HE HIMSELF KNOWS THE PAIN OF for who knows how long and no apparent plans to return for him or care of his wellbeing if caught by the Grandmaster (even when Loki risked his status by visiting Thor via illusion projection when Thor was locked up with the other fighters. He still tried to propose a plan of escape and HELP Thor). Thor went from a caring and flawed character who was constantly growing and trying to get better to a dumb jock who seemed to forget about everything in his and Loki's past. Loki went from a broken, confused, lost, and scared character who wanted to prove himself equal to his brother by any means, only to be cast aside by his "father", fall into the hands of a titan who threatened and more likely than not tortured him into following his plans, not helped by the mind stone influencing Loki and amping up his desires tenfold, to then get defeated, fearful of Thanos' wrath, sentenced to imprisonment for life which is more cruel than death in his eyes seeing how long they live, also not allowed to see the one person who truly seemed to love him unconditionally and him to her, his mother, then learn of her death, not by Thor or Odin, but by a guard and then not be allowed to attend her funeral, to going to a realm where he most certainly could die to help his brother (in the process throwing himself in the way of danger TWICE to protect Jane) and eventually saving Thor's life by sacrificing himself to something he did assume would kill him, but due to his nature as an Asgardian, managed to recover only to find that he was LEFT THERE, and then we progress into the crap show of Ragnarok where he loses Odin who for the first time seemed to show a glimmer of care and regret for Loki, get separated from Thor, get joked about and tossed around, and eventually we get to Infinity War where he dies within the first 10 minutes by the very titan he feared would enact revenge on him, AS HE SACRIFICED HIMSELF FOR THOR.

But no, go on and tell me why Ragnarok not only didn't ruin their characters but rather IMPROVED upon them. Be my guest.

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saintheartwing · 3 years

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Breaking Dawn, Pt. 2: Rage of the Forgotten Ones

Author's Note:

Regrettably, this time, I'm not accepting OCs for the story. Though you may spy a cameo here and there for certain...persons. ;)

Anyhow, on with the tale! And feel free to tell me what you like and dislike about it. :D

BREAKING DAWN, PART TWO RAGE OF THE FORGOTTEN ONES

If you're reading this, then again...thanks. I'm glad somebody bothered to check out my blog. I'm surprised you're checking it now, though. Shouldn't you be more concerned with the fact that hundreds of planet Earths are floating around in the sky above, defying all physics? Even the average ignorant idiot can tell: something is seriously wrong.

And I know you want to know how this happened. Maybe you heard about me. Remembered I was the "crazy kid" for a long time, that I had all of these "insane" theories about aliens and the supernatural, and now that this is happening, well, you turn to me for answers. I've got answers, alright...I've got answers.

It all ties back...to him. To an alien named Zim.

His species is called the Irken race. They're like reptile-esque bugs. Their bodies are organic shells, their REAL selves are attached to their backs in robotic backpacks called "PAKS'. They're generally proud, vain, narcissistic, selfish, dangerous, in a word...evil. I knew from the moment Zim entered my classroom in his pathetic disguise that fooled everyone but me that he was bad news, I swore to expose him.

But something happened over the years. Zim and I began to...

Well...

...I can't call it friendship. I really can't. It's like...we were rivals. And we always wanted to stay that way. To outdo each other. It was a "same time next week" kind of deal we had: he'd try to make some world-enslaving or world-destroying plot...I'd stop him. It was a great game we played. And I think we began to develop...well...a kind of respect...a kind of trust. We kinda mellowed, in a sense. Heck, we even applied to the same colleges. I guess that my life fell into a rhythm I intended to ride for the rest of my life.

...but before all that happened, there was...a period that I think back on with shame. It was kind of like the turning point. When we looked back on what we did, something changed in us. I think we kinda were forced to change.

See...I wasn't the only one who knew Zim was an alien. My sister knew, but she didn't really care much. Zim had another Irken living at his home, named Skoodge, but Skoodge wasn't really too much of a threat. He wasn't actually too bad, as far as Irkens went. But I did tell my classmate Gretchen about Zim, and I think she wanted to believe me.

And then there was Nick.

Nice kid from down south. Slightly annoying accent. Little bit dumb. Okay, maybe more than a little bit.

But friendly. Helpful. And Zim had experimented on him before. Made him REAAAALLY happy with this strange device he stuck in his head. Twice. I asked him for help, knowing he knew the truth.

I TRIED to train him. I really did. I tried to help him get smart and savvy the way I was. We planned...we calculated...a few missions went by, we did well.

He wasn't my friend, but...but he was a good comrade. Yes...a comrade. And that day, on March 23rd, six years ago...Zim did the worst thing he'd ever done.

And he did it to Nick.

...I own that. Because he was my soldier. My comrade.

...my fault.

I don't know if he...remembers it all. I kept wondering "Was he afraid? Was he begging for me to save him in his head? Was he crying all the while as Zim..."

Now I know how he felt. I'm feeling that way too. Because someone showed up at our front door. They forced a very dangerous, very powerful ring on me. A ring that can turn the imagination into reality. Chosen for me because I can overcome great fear.

And yet...

All I want to do now...

Is SCREAM.

At first...it was a spiritual experience. Exhilarating. Almost transcendental. He felt invincible. He felt...like he could face anything. Anyone. Dib Membrane wasn't afraid of anything or anyone, and he knew, in that first few moments he KNEW he could have taken on the entire world and WON. For those first few moments...the ring upon his finger showed him a world just in front of his fingertips, a world of potential.

And then...then it was not HIS will that controlled the power. It felt like he was being tugged around by slimy strings, his flesh was not his own...he was lost in his own spirit...and he knew what was at fault.

"Get this thing OFF me!" Dib yelled out, yanking on the white ring on his finger as best he could, gasping as the Irken with the golden eyes looked on in pitiless amusement. Two sets of antennae, one teal, one black slightly raised in amusement with gloved hands and a blue vest across his chest, with dark blue pants and boots of black...black to match the gloves...black to match his heart. "GET IT OFF!"

"It's no use." The Irken with the golden eyes said, waving his hand in the air. "I was the first one to touch the Exemplar Ring you wear on your hand. It might be powered by your Will, it might think you're using it, but really...it's MY will that matters now. It might as well be on my hand. And you're going to do everything I tell you to do. You won't have a choice." The Irken said.

Dib's sister bellowed angrily, punching the ground below and seething, frothing at the mouth. Unlike Dib, who was dressed in a fine outfit of black and green, she was all red and black, with a form that looked vaguely machine-like in its design, a fury dripping off her facial features as the Irken snapped his fingers and she panted slightly, slowly calming down.

"You...fix us...NOW." Dib snarled angrily, summoning up all his willpower, leveling the ring on his finger squarely at the Irken. "You FREAK."

"The NAME...is Zerinim Two Jookiba." The Irken with two sets of antenneas said, putting one gloved hand on his chest before growling fervently, a burning red fiery blaze of energy forming in his hands, sizzling like he was holding a miniature sun in his palms. "But don't call me "Two" like my closest loved ones do. Call me...MASTER."

He immediately launched the wave of energy squarely at Dib and Gaz, knocking them to the ground, Gaz taking a blow to the head, unconsciousness settling in as Dib felt the thing's grip on him relaxing, and now the many sledgehammers he kept imagining should be beating into this thing actually manifested in a bright green glow, energy constructs that struck at Two over and over as Dib kept the manifestation up, intent on one thing and one thing alone...

MAKING...HIM...PAY.

"I'm gonna make you sorry you ever came to my planet!" Dib yelled out, stepping closer and closer to Two as the Irken held his gloved hands forth, a sonic blast of red construct energy knocking Dib back as Two snapped his fingers, a surge of power rising from his form as a bow popped into his gloved hands. Dib jumped back up, quickly firing off blasts of energy from his ring like a cowboy desperately firing his pistols at an oncoming posse, but Two calmly stood still, the blasts missing him as he notched an arrow of burning red.

It launched through the air, impaling Dib through his left side and he screeched in pain, falling to the ground as his grip on his body faded, and he swam in and out of consciousness, struggling to stay awake, Two chuckling coldly as he approached the human and his sister.

"Ahhhhh, I NEEDED that. I'm in a such good mood right now...now you go home and power down and get some rest. Dream peacefully...it'll be the last happy sleep you ever have, I'm afraid." The Irken said, kneeling by Dib and lifting his head with one claw. It wasn't a mocking tone...it just said it. A statement of fact. Nothing personal. "You've got a busy day tomorrow, after all." He added with a slight smile, clapping his hands as Dib and Gaz found themselves returning to their normal clothes, getting back up and returning inside the house of their own accord, the will of their master, the being named Two, echoing in their minds...

Mercifully, Dib could feel his wounds healing. But this was cold comfort. All Dib could think about...was what this thing was going to do the world he loved.

...

...as Dib rested in his bed, snuggling up beneath the covers, shivering slightly, he grit his teeth and grounded them together. He was mad. He was furious. He couldn't even fall asleep without feeling like that...that thingwith the double set of antennas was watching him. It had loosed it's control over them...just barely. It was allowing them to rest, but that was cold comfort considering Dib knew the thing would be up to no good.

What would it do to his world? What would it make himdo to his world? What would it make him do to the people he loved?

Simply trying to imagine talking to his father or anybody else about what had happened was giving him a headache...no doubt another part of that being, "Two", inflicting his will on him. What would happen if he actually tried to tell his father what had occurred, get him to simply analyze the ring that he was unable to take off? Would it be some "Battle Royale" kind of deal? Would a collar manifest around his neck and take his head off?

Gaz. What was Gaz thinking, Dib wondered as his eyelids slowly beginning to drop, genuine sleep mercifully setting in. Was she scared? Was she indignant about being used? Or was she just...angry?

Well, as it turned out, Gaz was none of those things. She had long since fallen deep asleep to dream of a world that shaped and shifted by her will, brought to life by a giant red pen, floating upon a rubber piggy and laughed giddily at the new world she was making. She liked seeing things in red...yes, yes, she wanted to paint everything in red...

She knew this power would help her do it. She was aware it was bringing out her most violent desires and attitudes. But she knew she could channel it. She just had to wait for her chance.

She could take control of this. She could prove stronger than the thing on her finger.

"That idiot thinks he has me. But I've beaten worse things before." Her dream-self said as she raised a chainsaw high, cutting through a swath of imaginary Twos. "AND YOU'LL FALL, JUST LIKE THE REST OF THEM!"

...

..."Oh great. Two is here. Help me put my clothes back on."

"Why did you ask me to bring HER along? I could understand Lilo, but…"

"I want her to understand what we're…willing to do to break her. Lilo, do you know HOW the Minor Arcana was formed? How the…application process is undertaken?"

"..."

"Well, in exchange for very, VERY large amounts of power and the ability to remain eternally young…you've got to kill family. Close family. One member, to be precise."

"Samael approached me and told me that if I wanted into the Minor Arcana…if I wanted the ability to be immune to control and to control reality, I'd have to kill a family member."

"No, please tell me you didn't…didn't kill them…Kila, Zim, you…you didn't?"

"No, of course I couldn't, I…I love my parents. I…I chose Green, my sister from the past."

"If Kila and Zim ARE your parents, the ones I know so well, then they would have been horrified at the idea of you working for the person who made them suffer so much! They wouldn't have raised you to be so cruel!"

"They didn't raise me to be cruel, but we never could stay in one place long…do you know how some kids move around city after city, state after state, never really making friends, or worse, constantly leaving the friends they DO have? For me…it was TEN TIMES WORSE. I had to move from world to world and whenever we got REMOTELY settled into the hotel or other temporarily dwelling, we had to leave! Working for Samael meant he wouldn't hunt my parents anymore and…It's not like I know Green. She's my sister and I understand mentally that the whole thing is…sad."

"..."

"I OUGHT to know her. I should have spent my childhood with my big sister being there, we should have blown stuff up in the backyard together or played gorka-ball or "Toss the GIR"…we should have been siblings but…but we weren't. Aren't. It IS sad, but…I just don't really know her, and so I don't have many qualms about killing her, though MIYU had NO qualms in killing MALIK! And to get to her mother, she killed her dad too!"

"Azazel has yet to kill Nick, his dear, beloved Grandfather. So perhaps he'll kill his originator instead, he was so close to Nick, In his reality, his "Pee-Paw" was so PROUD of him…he even gave him his-"

"..."

"As for Frequency, lobotomizing Sari, whom he cared for greatly, was his act. Samael was happy to allow him to do the act, it allowed Miyu to replace Sari, who had refused to kill her parents and had taken Samael's gift of immortality. Such a pity…she would have gained Miyu's incomparable battle skills but instead she lost most of her brain."

"And now let us come to the point. You are not going to be rescued. You are going to be tortured here by us, one at a time, and when TWO finishes with you, I…will begin."

"Question: Who shall start?"

"I'll be the first...my power will be good for torturing you-"

With that, Dib awoke from the strange dream. It had felt real. FAR too real. And that person...Two. It had definitely been him. What was going on? Were Two's memories of the past somehow crisscrossing with his slave's head? Possible, he supposed. The Irken could control him from his head, but that meant his mind was open, at least when asleep, to Dib's own...

How strange...

"How odd..." Dib mumbled as he scratched his head, sweeping his legs out of his bed and onto the floor as he made his way to his bureau to get his usual attire out. Dark jacket? Check. Blue t-shirt with a "Meh" face on it? Check. Dark pants? Also check. Glasses...shoes...belt for said pants...check, check, check-

"...is the ring still on my finger?" Dib mumbled, looking down at his hand.

Check.

"...crap." He muttered. "You JERK." He growled, turning his head to look out the window at a cheerily grinning Two, who pushed the window open, letting in the sunshine to the dark blue walls of Dib's cluttered-up bedroom.

"Nice place, it really is...except for the smell." Two admitted as he looked around the bedroom. Indeed, over the years Dib had gotten slightly more advanced equipment from his father for birthday presents...yes, Birthday. Dib's father refused to celebrate Christmas due to his undying hatred of Santa Claus, so he always wasted that day searching for signs of Santa. And beating up Santa's Helpers in the street.

Yeah, it was weird.

A sophisticated computer system on a desk with what appeared to be three dozen drawers, many of them stuffed full of papers on Bigfeet, ghosts and aliens...a pile of laundry in the corner, all dark clothes, blue t-shirts...and several dozen paranormal posters littered the walls, including one of a flying saucer. And not just ANY flying saucer. "Is that from the X-Files series?" Two found himself asking, an intrigued expression coming to his features.

"Yes, the original one. I got it off of Ebay. Cost me two month's allowance too." Dib added, not taking his eyes off the alien scumbag. He wanted to jump through the air and do a karate kick to his head, hey, years of fighting with Zim meant he'd picked up a couple of tricks. But no, no, it was like he was rooted to the spot, and he knew EXACTLY why.

He tried to yank the ring off anew...hopeless. Two chuckled slightly as he snapped his fingers. "I used to watch the show when I was younger. Ahhhh, memories. Moving from dimension to dimension it's still nice to see that the more things change, the more they stay the same. Wait until I tell you about the second movie."

"Second movie?" Dib remarked, blinking stupidly.

"Oh, right, you don't know. Guess this world will never see it once I'm...well..." He chuckled coldly. "Once WE'RE finished. Go on, my little puppet. Eat breakfast. Say goodbye to your father with your sister. Then we begin, and I think I'll start by doing you a favor, and doing what all children dream of doing at one point or another...burning down your school."

"Why would you want to do that?" Dib growled angrily, fingers clenching almost like claws, eyes alit with fury. "What could you POSSIBLY gain from-"

"Do I look like a Bond Villain, my boy? I'm not TELLING you." The Irken chuckled. "But I'm in a good mood, so being the nice person I am, here's the deal. You get until Lunch Period's over. Then I'll take full control...and have you and your sister burn down the school and everyone and everything in it."

The Irken was suddenly up in Dib's face, smiling coldly, one hand gripping his chin, the other tapping Dib's ring. "You have until then to convince the others to get out, and don't bother trying to use your ring to convince them, I'll put it under a lock that won't open until it is finally time to BURN, baby, BURN." The Irken laughed. "Hey, you've been failing to get your classmates to listen for years. Maybe today's the day they'll finally listen!"

"You don't have to do this." Dib said, trying another tack, remembering the dream. Normally he wouldn't EVER negotiate with an alien, not even try, but...this was different. "You don't need to hurt anyone."

"But I do." Two whispered, raising his gloved claws up and clenching them. "...I DO."

Letting off cold-hearted laughter, the Irken jumped back out of the window, strolling off. Dib cursed under his breath. This was one of the few times an alien was out in the open! NO disguise! Why, WHY was nobody outside? Or LOOKING outside? What had their attention? Were they all still ASLEEP?

"So then he shot her, it was weird." The newest arrival on the "Okrah" show said to the titular host, Gaz munching on some cereal as the tall and weirdly surreal Prof. Membrane adjusted the goggles over his eyes, looking at the screen.

"This PULP is what the people are interested in?" He inquired.

"Yeeeeep." Gaz said nonchalantly through a mouthful of "Choco Frosted Sugar Bombs".

"And it's on every morning from 8 to 9? Without fail?"

"Yeeeeeeeeep."

"...what next, dancing panda bears?" Prof. Membrane mused sarcastically, rolling his eyes as he poured himself some coffee. He was getting better at this, he TRIED to be there during the day for breakfast if nothing else. And to think, it only took him a little over 10 years to actually start being somewhat of a good father figure.

"Mornin', Dad." Dib said, entering the kitchen and going to the fridge before shrinking away. Every time he tried to open the fridge, weird things happened. Last time he was SURE he'd heard a sneeze, and the mayonnaise had started yelling "The ketchup did it! The ketchup!" And ANOTHER time his father had left an experiment in there. Something had been living in the fridge.

"...is...the thing still in there?" Dib asked Prof. Membrane, inching away from the fridge and reaching for the knife drawer by the sink, pulling out a large carving knife as Gaz watched with interest.

"No, I'm fairly certain I moved him to the freezer." Prof. Membrane said, shaking his head back and forth. Smiling in relief, Dib wiped his brow and opened up the fridge...and was then forced to hack back several dozen tentacles before slamming the fridge shut. "Or maybe I forgot. Who keeps track?" Prof. Membrane added a moment later, putting a gloved finger to where his lip might have been...it was hard to tell, the white labcoat that he wore had a loooong collar that reached up high. You couldn't even see his nose!

"I'll just make some toast."

"SUPER-Toast?" Prof. Membrane asked expectantly.

"...er, I was thinking cinna-" Dib began to say, before he saw his father's slowly drooping expression. "SUPER-Cinnamon Toast." He quickly changed his mind, nodding enthusiastically.

"EXCELLENT choice, my son!" Prof. Membrane agreed, clapping Dib on the shoulder and moving to the cupboard to get the cinnamon sugar for his boy. "I can only spare 110 more seconds but I'd be HAPPY to get your cinnamon toast started!"

"...thanks, Dad." Dib said quietly. "I...I really appreciate it. And...appreciate you." He murmured.

"What will that thing make me do to the ones I love?"He thought sadly to himself, sitting in the chair next to Gaz as she quietly looked over at him, a faint flicker of genuine regret passing over her face for an instant.

...

...the Beautiful Angel clutched his mother's paw, looking down at her closed eyes. She looked so...worn and tired. So sad...so lost...so forgotten. She was a sad little doll that had been tossed into a closet to be forgotten about. She lay there in the ornately-draped bed inside of the crystalline palace that hovered high above the clouds, hidden from all sight not by ignorance on behalf of humanity, but by carefully-constructed machinations, creations of Zerinim Two, and of the robot that calmly watched, her face solemn before she turned her red-helmed head away from the sight of her beloved kneeling by his dying mother.

"C'mon...just a few more days, momma." He whispered, his golden/amber eyes gazing down upon his beloved mother. "...just a few more days and maybe we can end all of this...get our world back...and bring all of us back to normal."

"Is she...any better? Any worse?"

The Angel looked up. Zerinim Two's face was normally a window...behind his eyes you could tell he was barely suppressing a furious rage within. Now that window was cracked, but not showing rage...but deep, deep concern and sadness...

Personal loss...one of the greatest causes of rage in the world.

"No. And...and I've been talking with her and...she kept asking about the plan." The Angel went on, sighing as he stood up, brushing his thick slightly-light-brown locks of hair back. "You know that this base Earth is very...unstable. It's got the seeds of potential for all the other stories, but if this plan works, I'm worried what'll happen to the other-"

"Who GIVES a rat's ass?" Two snapped angrily, cutting his hand in the air to shut him up. "Azzy, these people are awful. AW-FUL. I might have been petty and selfish but when it came down to it, I ALWAYS put doing what was right for the ones I loved and for the world I loved at the forefront! Do you think ANY of the so-called "cornerstones" of this Base Earth would?"

"...I don't know." The Beautiful Angel admitted softly, honestly. "...I'd like to believe that some of them would."

"I'm sorry that "some of them" isn't enough." Two spoke quietly, folding his arms. "You know...I saw into Dib's mind when I controlled him. He has a family. He has a father. He has a sister. And his life's been slowly getting better for the past five years. Zim getting more considerate, Gaz becoming more tolerant, his father's actually eating BREAKFAST with them!"

That made the woman in the bed chuckle slightly. "Brekkie? N-no kiddin'? Ame kef, never thought he'd actually..." Her chuckling dissolved into pained coughs as she held her paw over her mouth and Two gently patted her forehead. "I'm...sorry I'm so friggin' useless now."

"It'll be alright, maneem." Two whimpered, kneeling by his mother and kissing her paw as a blue-furred being entered, Two rubbing his eyes as he left the room. The blue-furred being took off his cap, letting his hair fall down as he nervously chewed his lip, gazing at his aunt.

"...are we really gonna go through with this? I want the world back but..." He sighed. "...what he's making Dib do isn't...it isn't right."

"I want you to have this." The Beautiful Angel said, giving the blue-furred bounty hunter a pad of paper he had in a pack slung around his shoulder. "It's notes that mother took. I've read it five dozen times..." He trailed off, taking his mother's paw again.

The blue-furred being chewed his lip again, walking out of the room as he went to stand on a balcony, reading the journal as the robot stepped out on the balcony to join him.

"I shall be meeting with MY personal inductees today." She said in her emotionless tone, holding up the rings she would be using. "They shall join my Corps and I will then bring the two up here so that they may understand why we do what we do. I think he would go along with it anyway...a chance to destroy this world? Have "fun"? How could he say "no"?"

"Will you bother to tell him that once enough of this world's been destroyed by the Cornerstones, he'll get folded into the historical fabric?" The bounty hunter wanted to know.

"That's on a "need-to-know" basis." The robot said, a flicker of amusement passing over her metallic features as she sauntered back into the crystalline palace, leaving the bounty hunter alone on the balcony as he reached into his pocket, pulling out two small rings of his own. One was shining slightly, a chosen partner found, but the other...it's light was dull.

"...why isn't it lit up? What's it missing? WHO is it missing? I might have been the first to get ahold of these, but...can't do this alone..." He murmured, putting them back in his pocket, his paw going over the journal to his side, over an entry stained by teardrops.

...

...Dib nervously gripped his pants pockets as he looked out the window of the bus, sitting in the back with Gaz as she looked over at him. "Any ideas?" She asked sarcastically.

"...I thought about offering twenty bucks to everyone to leave school right after lunch...but my allowance isn't THAT high." Dib admitted, pulling out his wallet and opening it, a tiny moth fluttering out as Gaz rolled her eyes.

"And just TELLING them the truth won't help either, will it?" She asked. "They'd never believe you. Well, they might if you tried to use that thing in front of them, but-"

"It's not working." Dib mumbled, shaking his fist angrily, the ring uselessly dull. "I'm trying and trying...but he meant it...he shut it off. And after lunch, it turns on...and I turn into a living weapon. He'll drive me like I'm a BATTLEBOT."

Gaz looked around the bus, eyes narrowing darkly. "...Dib...what's wrong with this picture?" She asked quietly, dangerously.

Dib looked up from his lap, glancing around.

"Notice anything...missing?"

Suddenly it hit him. Zim. Skoodge. Gretchen. Nick. All four of them were gone. How strange...how very, very strange...

The bus came to a stop as everyone headed into the school, their new guidance counselor greeting the children at the door. He saw Dib's clearly sullen expression and his gentle green eyes softened. A hand reached out, placed squarely on Dib's right shoulder. "Dib, is something the matter?" Mr. Thildari inquired, one eyebrow raised high over a head with perfectly-combed grey hair.

"...nothing you could help with, sir." Dib told him as Gaz headed inside. "You've been more help than the last guidance counselor I had, but...you can't help me with this."

"Aww, why not try me?" Mr. Thildari asked, moving Dib inside and sitting him down at a bench by a water fountain. "First period bell doesn't ring for a whole seven..." He checked his watch. "...six whole minutes!"

"...I need to get everyone out of the school before lunch. And I mean EVERYONE. Even that creepy janitor." Dib told the guidance counselor, leaning back in the chair, Two's smirk lingering in his mind. "Or else something terrible is going to happen."

"Dib, did a friend of yours say they're going to blow up the school?" The guidance counselor wanted to know, his darkened skin paling slightly.

Dib's eyes went wide.

There it was...

...hope. Why hadn't he seen it before? It was such a simple solution.

"Yes, yes." Dib said fervently. "...except he's not really a friend, he...he said he was going to blow the whole school sky-high after lunch period, Mr. Thildari." Dib informed the guidance counselor, shaking him by his shoulders, back and forth, back and forth.

The guidance counselor looked deep into Dib's eyes, mouth becoming a taut line as if "reading" him. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully before closing his green eyes and letting out a soft, long sigh. "I believe you." He told Dib. "I'll inform the principal and vice principal about this, and I'll have everyone escorted out of the building until the police can search the grounds."

Dib inwardly cheered for joy as Mr. Thildari stood up and headed for the staff wing, punching the air as he headed off to class. He won. He'd WON.

Or at least...so he thought.

"I should have KNOWN you'd cheat." Two muttered furiously, sitting in a tree outside of school, his fists clenching tightly as red energy swirled off his body like sparks off a fire as his own ring swirled around him like a tiny fly, buzzing, buzzing.

"Calling in help like that, you great big cheater...well, you're about to find out that I'm just as petty and immature as you, Dib Membrane..." The Irken chuckled darkly. "I suppose the saying's true. If you want something done right..."

He hopped down from the tree, making his way towards the school as red energy seeped off his body, his footprints leaving behind burning indents within the ground as he chuckled coldly.

"You have to do it yourself."

#invader zim #zim #superhero #superheroes #Dib #Gaz #Two #Zerinim #action #adventure #fanfic #fanfiction

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ratabrasileira · 3 years

Text

Period

OneShot

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Sarah J. Maas.

Note: This is my first fic that I write in English, so any grammar mistakes, please call me out!!

“Shit” She exclaimed when her body was unconsciously dropped to the floor due to the intensity of the pain.

She felt the blood slowly run between hers contracted limb, trying to contain the uncontrollable spasms that hit her hard. The torment was endless; the pain didn’t had beginning neither end.

Shit, Feyre. Don’t stay here laying as an incompetent weaky.

She said to herself while tried to raise her body. The effort was useless. She felt her vision darken as her arms trembled at the weakness that she found herself. When was the last time that she ate something? Through the affliction, she could listen to a door being opened and footsteps echoing through the place.

The door was open when Lucien stepped into the hall of the sinuous River House.

Of course, yes.

He thought while was closing the polished door behind him. He still wasn’t used to being part of the High Lord of the Night Court’s family.

Although both had some things in common, which was summed up only in impeccable style and a good taste for affairs (mainly wine), it still did not accommodate the fact that, by law, they were brothers. An idea that was quickly spent on his worries when he thought that the law also made him brother of Feyre Archeron, High Lady of the Night Court.

He wouldn’t deny that he was proud of her.

But the sound that came from the dining room dispelled any thoughts that were in his head: his focus was caught in that familiar sound. For a moment he remembered her. The anguish was the same that had come out of Jesminda's lips when she was being beaten by the man who he thought that was his father.

No, he couldn’t let himself be distracted by something that only bring sorrow, fear and guilt. Retaking to his surround, he heard the moan again as he took long strides on his way to the dining room. What he had to do at River House had long since left his mind.

Entering the room, he found her. The smell of blood was tangible in the air. She was lying between the feet of the table, seemed to be trying to shrink her body as much as possible while sweat soaked her clothes. The last time he saw her like this, so vulnerable and withdrawn, they were in the place that he never wanted to be again.

Under the Mountain still plagued his dreams when he least expected it.

"Feyre!" He exclaimed as he ran to help his friend. Her face was pale and her eyes were full of pain when she looked at him.

"By the Cauldron, what the hell happened." Lucien continued to ignore the moans and murmurs that came out of the High Lady's mouth. "Are you okay, where's Nyx? Rhys?”

Feyre tried to speak, to emit something coherent while her friend helped her to get up, but the pain was still acute, and it seemed to get worse as she was lifted off the floor. However, by the time she was seated, both her vision and mind cleared.

“I’m fin—” She tried again, but a wave of pain emerged from her core to her hair. She moaned as she leaned forward.

“Mother above, is this any side effect of the baby's birth? Did anyone come in here, Feyre? Where the hell is Rhysand?” Lucien, desperate for his friend's distress, didn’t know what to do. The lack of a sign; a broken flower pot, anything that could at least give some idea of what had happened. He did not know how to deal with his current situation.

Feyre, however, just wanted his friend to shut up for at least a minute. A little minute so she could breathe, so she could process what her body asked for. As if she had spoken, or perhaps she had indeed spoken in his mind, she could not say, Lucien called himself to the kitchen.

"Wait a minute, I'll be right back" he said before heading to the room to get a glass of water for his friend. Perhaps she had eaten something extremely indigestible and that, in a way, had caused her tremendous pain. With that thought he also took a banana from the fruit basket.

"Here, drink, eat and explain me what happened." Said the redhead, placing the glass and fruit on the table.

The High Lady at least had the strength to be able to spill the water in her mouth and drink it as if she depended on it, which in fact she did. After taking the last sip, the banana, already peeled, was waiting in his friend's hand, so she chewed, chewed and chewed until her pressure relatively rose, her stomach satiated from having something to cover.

"Better?" Asked Lucien, sitting down at the table and stroking his friend.

"Gods ... Yes, thank you." Replied Feyre, resting his head on the back of the chair.

"What happened? Why the hell were you— ”

But a howl of pain interrupted Lucien from his shifting question. Feyre leaned over again, now with a slight green tinge in her face.

“By the edges of the Cauldron!” He exclaimed, standing up suddenly as he stroked his friend.

The pain again became acute, radiating throughout her body. The blood now bothered her between her legs; a slight trickle was felt on one of her inner thighs.

"I-I’m fine! Fine ...” Feyre grunted. She was bad, it was a fact, but she didn't need to bother her friend, besides, she was strong! How much did she suffer to worry about something like that? "It's just— Shit!"

"What? Is your stomach?" Lucien questioned.

"My fucking uterus, Lucien!”

“Is it because of the baby?! Mother above, I will call—”

"Period, damn it!" Exclaimed Feyre, more out of pain than anything else.

For a moment, Lucien stood and watched Feyre squirm. Never in more than decades of existence has he seen a woman suffer so much because of a period. Part of him thanked the Mother and the Cauldron that Elain is not as unlucky as her sister in this regard. No, hers was a mild pain, there were no chills and nausea as apparently the High Lady was having. The other part of him regretted his friend for going through this twice a year.

"Ok, do you want to lie down ... something like that?"

“No need to worry—” Feyre howled in pain when he felt another sharp twinge in the right part of her womb.

"Gods, are you expelling your uterus?" Lucien teased as he took Feyre in his arms and carried her to the comfort of the couch, located in the living room.

The atmosphere was as comfortable as the rest of the house. A well-lit room with natural light. Perfect for painting, Lucien thought, accommodating his friend on fluffy pillows, trying his best to avoid making her feel even more uncomfortable.

When Feyre adjusted to the new position, she was able to feel, even if very little, a momentary relief. She didn't remember feeling that way the last time she had her period. Yes, it was turbulent for her body, but never that intense. She hoped that after having her anatomy altered by Mother or the Cauldron (anything Nesta did), her cramps would not be as intense as they were before she got pregnant. She saw that she was very much mistaken. She had moments when the blood came and it seemed, as Lucien had said, to expel her uterus out, others came with less severe pain.

But of course, compared to the traumatizing pain she had had at Nyx's birth, it didn't handle a candle. Watching the blood flow quickly between her legs knowing that her firstborn, her baby, was dead not only shattered her body, but also her heart; everything that she is.

She deviated the subject. She couldn't be reliving the moment when she almost lost everything she loved most. Your partner, your life and especially your child.

She only noticed that she had rambled on for a while when Lucien appeared holding what appeared to be a soft, thick towel.

"Here" He put the fabric over her belly as he sat on the floor in front of her. The fabric was quite too warm, but Feyre didn't complain when she felt some of the tension ease. He had made a “lukewarm” compress for her. “My mom used to do this for me and my brothers when we had colic. It wasn't my body creating life to torture me, so I don't know if it will do any good.”

"Prick" muttered Feyre as he closed her eyes, losing the affectionate smile that appeared on her friend's face. No, the compress didn't help much, but the comforting warmth and the little pressure that the empty tissue made on her womb got her relaxing a little, although her entire body was still sore and tired. Still, she murmured a thanks.

“Nah, but I'm a little relieved that Elain’s is not the same as you. How does Rhysand take it?” The question elicited a chuckle from Feyre.

"He can't take it." The day that Rhysand will stop caring about the least discomfort his mate feels is going to be the day when both of them will no longer be in the world.

“Speaking of him, where is he and Nyx? Didn't he feel anything in the bond?” Lucien asked her again.

Feyre sighed. In fact, she was partially alone in that gigantic house. Her son miraculously slept upstairs while the mother almost passed out from the pain. This thought made the fear visible in the atmosphere of the room.

“Rhys is solving that project that I told you yesterday; about Cesere. Nyx is up there, sleeping like an angel, thankfully.”

Lucien understood the line of reasoning when he caught the scent of fear wandering over the air between them. If something had happened to the child while Feyre was incapacitated by something natural in her body ...

"This ... This whole pain .... Is it been since he ..."

“No, my periods have been like this since my first time. In fact, I hoped this would end after my birth.” Replied Feyre. They both knew they were getting into a sensitive subject, both Feyre and Rhysand did not mention the birth of their son, who turned 1 years old last spring.

"No wonder you have masochistic tendencies." Lucien joked; humor is something that has become a comforting good among them.

"Prick"

"Yes, yes, and you miss me when I'm not here to piss you off"

"Oh, relax I have others"

"Are you calling me replaceable?" With that Feyre opened his eyes. Partly because he knew that maybe it had affected Lucien, partly because he would never be replaceable for her, her first and best friend, now her brother.

"No, Lucien, never ..." Denied the High Lady "I miss you to bring me sanity." She stated with a simple smile on her face.

"I think I'm forgiven then, for the witchberry." The comment made Feyre laugh tiredly, as well as a groan of pain.

“No, I'm still planning my revenge. I wouldn't sleep peacefully if I were you.” She replied, closing her eyes again.

"Nah, I think living at the Day Court protects me a little."

"A little?"

"Yes, I will not take Elain's credit for completely protecting myself from you"

Feyre let out what appeared to be a laugh along with a hiss. Lucien stroked his friend's hair again. He could see the pain in the wrinkles caused by the way her brow twitched on her face.

The two spent the minutes like that, in a comfortable silence that they both knew very well, thanks to the moments they spent together "hunting" in the Spring Court, when Feyre was still a human. Lucien rambled on about those moments he barely noticed when his friend's breath had become something heavier and deeper.

He watched the female's rested face before him. A pinch between the eyebrows was the only sign of persistent discomfort. But at that moment, he felt a tightness being slacken, and did not even know that he needed that loosening so that he could perceive that something was holding him back. Perhaps it was because he finally felt that he had a place, a family that would make him happy and support him regardless of his choices.

And looking at Feyre Archeron, the human girl who killed his friend, he felt grateful and content. Grateful for what she did in the world in such a short time, with her human longing that still enjoyed that heart so generous and simple. Content, because in times, he felt really loved, not only by his mate, but also by those who one day he thought he would never be able to return the feeling.

Lucien, Heir of the Day Court, was proud to be able to consider himself brother and friend of the woman who had emerged Under the Mountain.

#my writing #acotar #acotar fic #acotar fanfiction #feyre archeron #lucien vanserra #feyre #lucien #brotp #feycien brotp #friendship #my fic

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redvoid-40 · 4 years

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Chapter 10: Forest of Death

Hello everyone! I’m going with a new chapter of my Gaara fic today. Lately my attentions have shifted to the Tales of Arcadia fandom, but I already had this chapter ready so I thought it would be nice to post it. :)

Hope you all enjoy it! For more Gaara content check my masterlist in my profile. :D

Fanfic title: ??? Word count: 2800 Fandom: Naruto Pairing: eventual Gaara x OC, cannon pairings Genre: Friendship, Adventure, Hurt/Comfort Warnings: None

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Team Rashu were barely on their feet when kunais and shuriken flew their way. Aoni grabbed her brother by the collar and dropped to the ground with him as Shin took the kunai from her pouch and used it to defend herself from the attack before jumping down after her teammates.

“Shin?” Aoni called out, sword in hand.

“They’re coming. The three of them.”

And so they did. Three Genin from Takigakure landed right in front of them with eerie grins on their faces. They all were older boys - around 16 years old if Shin had to guess - and wore the same black overalls that covered them from neck to ankle. One of them had blonde hair and a mocking smile on his face, the other two had spiky black hair. One of the black-haired Nin was rather short for his age, and the second had a scar that ran from his nose to his left cheek.

“Who would’ve guessed? The mighty Meguyutas showed up to play! We were very surprised seeing you two at the inscriptions, you know? Not like your family to mingle with the riffraff.” The blonde Nin taunted.

“Don’t be absurd. We’d never mingle with trash like you.” Aoni answered with a haughty smile. “You’re just something we have to kick out of the way to keep going.”

Shin’s eyes widened at her friend’s poisonous reply. She knew Aoni wasn’t low on self-esteem in any way - some people would go as far as calling her arrogant, but Shin knew better; Hajii and her were raised to become the very best in everything, and that began with believing they were - but she had never expected such words from her. While the siblings might’ve grown in a world of luxuries and high-standards very unlike her own, they had always been nice to her and her family; never once making her feel less because of their different… incomes.

“You’re the trash here!” The short one exploded. “Always looking down on the rest of us because of your money!”

“It’s not because of the money.” Hajji replied cheerfully. “It’s because you’re all so incapable of being anything other than mediocre.”

Shin’s eyes widened even further. Their niceness, it seemed, didn’t extend to just anyone.

“We’ll show you mediocre!”

As one, the three Taki-Nin charged. The smaller one went for Aoni, most likely believing she’d be the weaker link just because she was “the rich girl”. It was clear he didn’t expect her to parry the blow with her sword as easily as she did, quickly taking the offensive.

The blonde one went after Shin, who dodged just in time to counter with a well-aimed kick to the stomach.

And the last one, the one with a scar who hadn’t said a word to them yet, went after Hajii. He didn’t begin small as his teammates did, though.

He performed hand signs so quickly Shin could barely pinpoint his Jutsu before he started spitting fireballs at Hajii, who barely dodged them all without losing an arm. Just as he was about to catch his bearings, the Taki-Nin cut through his Jutsu’s smoke and cornered the boy against a large tree.

Shin faltered and clumsily blocked a fist flying her way as she watched Hajii receive a knee to the stomach, making him cough out blood all over his adversary.

Now. It has to be now.

The girl turned her attention back to her adversary and barreled him with blow after blow after blow. She didn’t worry so much about making contact; she just needed to distract him enough to perform a Clone Jutsu combed with a Substitution Jutsu to get away to help Hajii.

Her opportunity came when the blonde had to use both arms to block a particular violent roundhouse kick to the face. When he had no sight of her Shin quickly summoned a poorly-made clone in her place before charging towards the scarred Taki-Nin.

That was the cue for Aoni and Hajii.

As clockwork, Team Rashu performed a dance of chairs with their enemies.

Hajii used the blood that was staining his adversary’s clothes to make one of his Chakra Creatures. In a moment’s notice, his blood took the shape of a dragonfly and flew towards the Taki-Nin’s face. While he was busy trying to shake off the creature, Hajii crouched and jumped towards his sister.

When Aoni saw Shin move she parried the short Ninja’s blow and sprinted away from him, towards the Ninja fighting against Shin’s clone. Just as the clone puffed out of existence she appeared. The muscles in her right arm grew in size and her skin turned a dark gray colour as she raised it in the air. The blonde Taki-Nin barely had the time to understand what had happened before Aoni slammed the pommel of her Dai sword against his cheekbone, making him fly across the clearing and promptly pass out.

Hajii performed hand signs as he flew towards the short Ninja, and when his feet slammed the ground just behind his opponent’s back, so did his hands.

“Doton: Golem Technique!”

The ground behind the short Ninja’s parted as rocks pushed their way through it, taking the shape of a Golem. The creature had only its upper body formed, but it still stood taller than any of them.

The Golem encircled the enemy with large, heavy arms, trapping him with his arms by its side. The short Ninja could only watch helplessly as the pommel of Hajii’s kunai flew towards his face; once, twice, three times, until he was unconscious.

Shin closed in her own adversary quickly. The boy was still trying to wave off Hajii’s chakra creature, and she took that opportunity to deliver a low hook punch to his stomach. As soon as her fist hit him, the scarred Ninja disappeared in a puff of smoke.

Shin was surprised for a moment, but recomposed herself when she felt the boy’s chakra move somewhere by her right. She quickly grabbed her kunai and raised in front of her face, just in time to block an attack. Their eyes met for a moment and Shin couldn’t help but smile when she felt his chakra brush against her own.

Without even realizing it, Shin reached out with her left hand and grabbed the boy’s wrist in a bone-crushing grip, eager to have his life energy as close as possible. Her movement was pure instinct, as fast as a reflex, so the boy could only widen his eyes in pain and surprise.

And when he felt something literally pull on his chakra, he felt fear. The scarred Ninja tried to pull his arm away, but Shin’s grip didn’t let go.

“Just a bit more, please.”

The girl seemed to plead with him in a whisper, and when his eyes flew to the girl’s face he found her pupils blown wide, darkening the hazel of her irises with hunger. That dazed expression made shivers run down his spine, but he was experienced enough to push down his fear and take advantage of the situation. The girl was in some high at the moment - high from sucking his life force right out of his body -; it was his chance to attack.

Without hesitation he drove his kunai into the girl’s left shoulder, driving it deep enough to hit her bone.

The boy smirked as a scream tore out of the girl’s mouth, and the pain made her fall to her knees. However, his satisfaction was short-lived when he felt her pull him down with her.

Despite having a kunai 3 inches deep into her flesh, Shin hadn’t let go of him and she hadn’t stopped draining his chakra. She was like a rabid dog who had got its diseased jaws into its prey and refused to let go.

When she glared up at him her eyes were no longer dark with that strange hunger. They were attentive, and her irises seemed lighter somehow, almost yellow.

“What the-”

Before he could say anything else, Shin raised the hand with her kunai high in the air, making him pull his kunai back to protect his face and neck from her attack.

However, there was no contact between their weapons. Instead, pain exploded on his left foot as the girl speared her weapon through it, until only the pommel remained free of his flesh.

The boy opened his mouth to scream, but before any sound could leave his lips Shin concentrated her chakra on her left leg and rotated her body as that leg shot out, delivering a powerful kick to the Ninja’s face with the back of her foot. If it wasn’t for the kunai spearing the Scarred Ninja’s foot into the ground, he would’ve flown across the clearing, much like his teammate had done some only moments before.

Still, despite lacking Aoni’s flourish, Shin had knocked out her opponent out cold with her kick.

Breathing hard, Shin laid her palms on her knees, taking a moment to regain her bearings. The remaining of the boy’s chakra quickly left her, returning her eyes to their usual hazel hue.

“I think you killed him, Shin-chan.” Hajii said, approaching her alongside his sister.

Breathing hard, Shin stared down at the unconscious Genin in front of her and couldn’t help but flinch at the large purple bruise already spreading out on his face. It looked bad, and Shin had no doubts she had broken the boy’s nose with that kick, and maybe left a crack on his skull. She just hoped there was no internal bleeding in there.

I didn’t mean to use so much chakra on that kick. His chakra flew inside me and then… there was so much extra energy. It was like a dam breaking. It overflew.

“It was an accident.” Shin spoke, feeling increasingly guilty the longer she stared at the beaten boy in front of her. “W-We need to get him medical attention.”

Hajii and Aoni exchanged a glance.

“I don’t think that’s possible, Shin-chan.” Aoni spoke. “Look, I’m sure it’ll be fine. Let’s tie them up and leave them somewhere safe so none of the creatures here get them, alright? I’m sure one of his teammates will wake up soon and get him help.”

“Yes.” Hajii agreed, raising a scroll in his hand. It was the Earth scroll, the one they needed. “Since we’re taking their scroll, there will be no reason for another team to attack them. They should be fine.”

Suddenly the boy coughed and gagged as if he wasn’t able to breathe. Desperate, Shin dropped to her knees and turned his head to the side. Blood surged from his mouth, staining the grass beneath him.

When she looked up at her teammates, her eyes were pleading and full of tears.

“H-He’s choking on his own blood. Please Aoni, Hajii. Let’s just take them to one of the gates and make some noise. I’m sure there will be examiners close by. If we can get their attention then maybe-”

“Anko said there would be no leaving this site, Shin-chan.” Hajii pointed out. “Everyone here accepted the risks. Things like this happen when you’re a Shinobi. Do you think they would’ve given a second thought if you were in his place?”

Shin swallowed and lowered her gaze back to her enemy. If their roles were reversed, she didn’t think he’d try to help her, but still-

“From now on I’ll find my own Ninja way! A way that’s honest, righteous and without remorse. From now on, I’ll follow Naruto’s way, believe it!”

“I don’t care. That’s my Ninja Way.” Shin settled, pulling her kunai from the boy’s foot, flinching at finding the thing had almost cut his foot in half when she kicked him. She arranged the Taki-Nin in a piggy-back, doing the best to ignore the burning in her left arm where he had stabbed her. “I’m taking him to one of the gates. You guys wait for me at our spot. I promise I’ll be back soon.”

Hajji and Aoni opened their mouths, ready to yell at her no doubt. But before they had the chance, she jumped out of sight.

Both siblings exchanged a look, steam blowing out their ears at the risks their teammate was taking.

“We’re going to kill her.”

---

There was a gate less than 5 kilometers from where they were, so Shin got there in less than 30 minutes. However, to her dismay, there was no one in sight.

“Hello! Anyone there?! Anko-san! Please, anyone!”

There was no answer but the sounds of the forest behind her. Shin tried to reach out with her chakra, but she was exhausted and her reach couldn’t even cover the area of her field of vision.

Shin glanced at the boy’s beaten face and sighed. She knew what she was about to do was stupid, but she didn’t see anyway around it. So she set the boy in a sitting position against the fence and breathed in deep.

“HELLOOOOOOO! ANKOOOOOO!”

Birds shot out in the sky at her loud scream and Shin pulled a kunai out of her pouch as she settled in a defensive stance. She knew screaming like that could draw a lot of unwanted attention to her, but she didn’t see any way around it.

Moments passed, but nobody came. Shin was readying herself for a second scream when someone landed right in front of her. She jumped, not having felt or heard their approach, and for a moment she believed it was another Genin team, ready to end her.

To her relief, standing in front of her were three Shinobi with Anbu masks.

“What are you doing, girl?” One of them asked.

“I need help. Well, not me. He does.” Shin spoke quickly, putting away her kunai as she walked to the Taki-Nin. “He needs a doctor fast. I-I kicked him too hard and now he’s not breathing well. I don’t know if it’s the blood in his airways or the blow to the head, but his breathing is growing worse by the second. I know Anko-san told us there was no leaving once the Exam began, but he can’t wait five days. P-Please take him to a doctor.”

The Anbu exchanged a look.

“He isn’t your teammate?”

“No. We fought. I think he didn’t see my attack coming and wasn’t able to defend himself with chakra. And I-I… I really didn’t mean to kick him as hard as I did. Please help him. Please! I didn’t intend to kill him. I just wanted to knock him out.”

“Where are your teammates?”

“We’re here.”

Shin startled, turning wide, tear-filled eyes back to the forest. Aoni and Hajii were walking towards them leisurely.

“We apologize for her.” Aoni began, glaring at her. “We tried to tell her not to do this but…”

“She grabbed the guy and ran off.” Hajii completed. “She’s pretty damn fast.”

The scarred Taki-Nin suddenly coughed again, spilling more blood over himself.

“Please!” Shin tried again, staring at the Anbu with tears in her eyes. “Just take him to a doctor already!”

At last one of the Anbu nodded at her.

“You two go after Anko. I’ll take this kid to the hospital.”

“You sure about this?”

The woman Anbu nodded, crouching down to take the boy in her arms. “He is in no condition to keep going, and it’s not like his team would ever have a chance of finishing this stage without him.”

“Alright.”

“Be careful.”

With those parting words, the two Anbu jumped out of sight. The third one looked down at Shin.

“What’s your name?”

“Osasu Shin.”

“Hm… I’ve heard of you. You were part of Kakashi’s Team, right? Now, go back to your Exam. I’ll take care of this.”

Shin smiled and bowed at the waist. “Yes, ma’am. Thank you so, so, so much. Thank you.”

“Kakashi will be proud.”

Startled, Shin looked up at the Anbu, but she was already gone. And with her went the last rays of sunshine of the day.

“Shin-chan, we need to talk.”

Swallowing her fear, Shin turned around to face her teammates. The twins had never looked more alike to her as they were now, with the same murderous expression on both of their faces.

Shin chuckled. “I guess I owe you two an apology, no?”

Hajii and Aoni smiled at her, and at the moment Shin knew she would’ve been safer if another enemy team had found her instead.

I’m dead.

#gaara #gaara x oc #naruto #shin #osasu shin #fanfic #forest of death

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ahtohallan-calling · 4 years

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chapter 19 of don’t read the last page is here!

masterpost

[kristanna / m / multichap / modern au with actress!anna and vetstudent!kristoff]

“I, uh, am I supposed to be scared?”

“Are you?”

“...only if I’m supposed to be.”

She laughed and held out her hand palm-up. “Hold on to me. Trust me, it helps.”

chapter 19: six weeks or so

When she saw Kristoff waiting for her by the car, she didn't so much embrace him as crash into him, flinging her suitcases aside to throw her arms around his waist and hold on tight.

He caught her with equal enthusiasm, pressing her so close to his chest she could feel his heartbeat thudding against her cheek.

"I missed you," she choked out, tears already welling over.

"It's okay," he murmured, running a hand over her hair. "You're back now. I've got you."

"Russia is cold as fuck."

"Were you surprised?"

"No, I just-- fuck, it's good to be back in LA."

He chuckled and pulled back enough to get a glimpse at her face. "I take it you didn't sleep on the plane."

"Not even for a minute. I don't even remember what day it's supposed to be."

"February eighteenth. And it's Saturday, so you're stuck with me all day."

"Oh, thank god, I-- wait, you got up this early on a weekend to get me?"

"Well, yeah. I didn't want to wait any longer than I had to to see you."

"Jesus. Are you like, real? Am I actually asleep now and dreaming this?"

He kissed her forehead and pulled back to open the trunk of his car. "No, this is real."

"God, I'm lucky," she said with a happy sigh, admiring the way his arms flexed as he heaved her suitcases into the trunk. "You're hot and you love me. And smart!"

"Did you sleep at all the last day or so?"

"Nope," she said cheerfully. "So the reunion sex has to wait til after I nap this time."

---

“Was it all bad?”

“No, there were some good moments. Like I did have one afternoon to go sightseeing with Honey. I tweeted those pictures, did you see?”

“Mhmm. You looked adorable in that big fur hat,” Kristoff said, leaning over to where she was perched on the edge of the counter to kiss her on the cheek.

“And Honey made it bearable, and the not-Hans people are mostly okay. Oh! And Katerina was lovely, that’s the little girl who plays Anastasia when she’s younger. They’re doing that whole first bit in Russian, and she didn’t really know much English, but she was so cute, look!”

She held up her phone to show him a picture of her grinning ear to ear as she knelt beside a little girl with bright blue eyes, waist-length red hair, and a missing front tooth; they looked so similar that for a moment he had an uncanny feeling that he was looking at a picture of a mother and daughter.

“Yeah, she’s adorable,” he said, unsure why there was suddenly a lump in his throat.

“And she was so sweet with the dog-- I told you they’re keeping that in, right, from the original one? Anyway, by the end they were inseparable. I could tell you would get along with her, too.”

He set down the spatula then and went over to kiss her properly, setting his hands on her waist and tugging her as close as he could without pulling her completely off the counter. She let out a little surprised laugh, though she met him with enthusiasm, and when he pulled away she asked breathlessly, “What was that for?”

“Just because.”

---

There was a loud thump, followed by a hissed, “Fuck, shit that hurt!”, and then another much louder thump followed by something so vulgar he felt himself blush just listening to it.

He sat up, fumbling for his glasses on the nightstand. “Anna? What are you doing up? I thought you said you don’t have to film anything else.”

“I don’t. But I set up a meeting with Lena this morning to talk about options.”

“Oh.”

He wasn’t awake enough to deal with that kind of problem just yet, and so instead he switched the lamp on. “What did you drop?”

“I set my heels on top of the drawers so I would see them and remember to wear them. The tall ones that make me feel like a badass? And then, uh, I tried to get dressed in the dark and knocked one of them onto my foot, and it turns out those heels hurt when they land on you, and then I, uh, I tripped and ran into the dresser.”

“Sounds like you’re going to have a bruise.”

“A massive one that Honey will get annoyed at me for. You wouldn’t believe how much concealer she’s wasted on me doing stupid shit.”

She finished putting her earrings in and clacked over to him, still in the heels. “Have fun at work today, baby, okay?”

“I’ll try. Depends on what shit Ryder pulls.”

She laughed at that and leaned down to kiss him. “Love you.”

“Love you back.”

And he was having fun at work, really, especially when he spent his lunch break playing fetch with the dogs who were staying in the kennels, but then his phone buzzed with a call from Anna.

“Hey, sweetheart, what’s up?” he asked, hoping she couldn’t tell he was already worrying; she never called at work.

“Fuck! I’m so fucking pissed, I-- oh, hello, sorry, I skipped that part. Love you. Anyway, fuck!”

“What’s wrong?”

“So I like, told Lena how shitty Hans was, and that you and I had been talking about eventually going public, and she was all ‘well it’s really good for your reputation to be in the news this much’ and I was like ‘um but I don’t like being in the tabloids’ and she was like ‘but it’s good for your career so really I was thinking we could play this up’ even though I told her at the beginning I don’t want to encourage it, you know?”

“Uh-huh.”

“And then she was annoyed at me, like ‘look at all your Twitter followers now’ and stuff and just like...fuck. Like I know she knows how to do this shit way better than me, but still. I told her no, by the way, still no playing into it. Which I would have done even if I didn’t know it bothers you because it bothers me, so don’t start feeling guilty.”

She knew him too well; he’d been getting ready to apologize already. “I won’t.”

“Well, then, she was like ‘the hype is going to die down til the trailer drops this summer if we don’t do something so next weekend I got you lined up for some talk show stuff, and Hans is doing SNL and surprise, you’ve got a cameo with him on that and also he’ll be on the talk shows too’ and just. I told her how much he sucks, you know? And that I really needed a break from traveling.”

“But this’ll be really good, Anna,” he said, making sure he was out of earshot of anyone who might overhear and put two and two together. “For your career and the movie. You gotta go.”

She sighed heavily. “I know. But like, I haven’t even gotten to see my sister in a month. And they’re probably gonna put me in a hotel with Hans, and he’ll try to come up with some excuse to come talk to me in my room--”

“Can I come with you?” Kristoff asked, surprising even himself. “I mean, if it’s for SNL, it’s on the weekend, right?”

There was a beat of silence, and then she replied, “Oh my god. Oh my god, would you really do that?”

“Um...go on a weekend trip with my girlfriend to a city I’ve never seen? Is that a question?”

“We’d have to leave Friday, though.”

“That’s fine. I get a day off each month, and I haven’t used any yet.”

“You’re telling me it’s March, and you’ve been stressed as fuck, and you still haven’t missed a day?”

“Um…”

“Okay, you’re definitely coming with me. And we’re doing touristy shit the whole time. Well, the whole time I’m not doing dumb interviews or whatever. Anyway, I just got to set. See you tonight?”

“Why did you say that like it’s a question? We live together.”

“I don’t know. Makes it feel more exciting that way, like we’re still in the exciting dating part and not basically already an old married couple.”

“It’s still exciting to me.”

“Aww, Kris,” she said, her voice softening. “You’re too cute. I can’t wait to actually be half of an old married couple with you.”

Unconsciously, his hand went to his pocket, where he was keeping the receipt from the jewelry store. He was picking it up after work today. “Me, either.”

---

“Do you think people can tell this is a wig?”

“No. I barely recognized you when you came out of the bathroom this morning.”

“Liar. But you’re sweet for saying so.”

He laughed and squeezed her hand. She was in the window seat, wearing a brunette wig cut into a bob, a sweatshirt with the hood pulled up over it, and a pair of sunglasses for good measure, and still to be certain she went unrecognized, they had gone through security and boarding separately. Now they were seated in first class, and, mercifully Hans had beaten them there and already attracted all the attention to himself. Except for his own, of course; he had already made excuses to walk past their row twice before the plane had even taken off.

Kristoff heard the engines start up and cleared his throat. “Um. Is it too late to tell you I’ve never flown before?”

“Never? I knew that in high school, but I thought surely…”

“Nope. I, uh, am I supposed to be scared?”

“Are you?”

“...only if I’m supposed to be.”

She laughed and held out her hand palm-up. “Hold on to me. Trust me, it helps.”

He squeezed her hand and felt a prickling at the back of his neck. He turned and met Hans’s glittering green eyes across the aisle. For a moment they just stared at each other; then Hans smirked and returned his attention to his phone.

Kristoff turned to face the front again, grateful Anna’s attention was on the menu and thus that she’d missed the moment of tension. He had a funny feeling that wouldn’t be the only such moment this weekend.

---

“Yes, it’s been a dream come true,” she said with a grin. “I mean, getting to be a literal princess? What girl doesn’t want that?”

“It’s your second time wearing a crown. Do you think this movie will be as successful as Crowned on Christmas?”

“Oh, definitely. I mean, the number of amazing, talented people on set--”

And there was Hans’s goddamn hand on her knee again. “I agree,” he said, smoothly interrupting her. “It’s been such an amazing experience working with Anna.”

She crossed her legs, forcing his hand to fall away. At least it wasn’t on her shoulder again this time; that had taken her a whole minute and a half to shuffle out of. She caught the host’s eye in a silent plea for help, but he didn’t seem to notice.

“And the rumors about the two of you?”

Hans laughed. “It’s flattering, to be sure, to have my name linked with someone like our Anna here. But I like to keep some parts of my life private.”

“Me, too,” Anna said quickly, but Hans’s hand settled over her shoulders again all the same.

When she was finally, mercifully off the set and backstage again, she didn’t even bother with a makeup wipe before grabbing Kristoff’s hand and pulling him out the stage door, heading straight for the car that was waiting for them. Mercifully, no fans had come around back yet, and so she dropped his hand only long enough to get in the backseat.

Neither of them spoke until they were nearly to the hotel, and then she turned to him suddenly, her eyes fierce. “I fucking hate that guy.”

Kristoff only nodded, his eyes dark and unfathomable.

“And I’m gonna take an insanely hot shower until I like, burn away all of him from my skin.”

He nodded again and set his hand over hers, squeezing hard.

The silence resumed as they made their way upstairs, timing it so they wouldn’t be seen in the lobby together. She went first and was already stripped down, the shower heating up, when she heard the door click open. She stepped back out to greet Kristoff, but before she could even get out a hello he was there, his hands tangling in her hair as he kissed her, hard.

“Fuck,” she managed to gasp out, hands already scrabbling at his waistband as he nipped at her lower lip. “Kris, I--”

She trailed off into a gasp. He had already moved down to her neck, pressing kisses hard enough she wondered if he was trying to leave a mark. “I love you, Anna,” he said, his breath hot against her skin.

“I love you, too. Only you,” she emphasized, and she felt him groan against her collarbone. “And I only want you to touch me.”

“Good. Because that’s how I’m planning on spending the rest of the night.”

---

It was too damn hot in the rehearsal room. She had to step out for a moment or she was going to puke up every bite of the room service they had ordered that morning, too lazy and exhausted after spending most of the night tangled in each other to bother even going two feet down the sidewalk for a bagel.

Hans raised an eyebrow as she stood. “You alright, Anna? We’re just about to be to the skit you’re in if you don’t mind waiting another minute for a break.”

She simpered at him, wishing she had the guts to tell him off then and there. “Be right back. Just need a piss.”

He blinked, affronted, but one of the women beside him snickered, which was enough to embolden her. She grabbed her purse from the back of her chair and marched off to the bathroom, locking the door behind her.

She really did need to pee, but after that she dug through the bag in search of a Tums. “Come on, you’re in here somewhere-- aha!” she exclaimed triumphantly, pulling out a foiled packet.

Her smile dropped immediately; it was just her birth control, but as she went to drop it back in something caught her eye. She did some mental math, and then did it again, and then pulled out her phone and looked at a calendar of the last month. No, she thought, panic already rising in her chest, there should only be five. Not six.

She flicked to another app on her phone, the little one with the stupid flower icon. Surely she had just misremembered, it had been the first week in Russia and it’d only been, what, five or six weeks--

Twelve days late.

---

By the fountain. The big one. The one she had sent him a Google Maps pin for. He had checked three times; this was the right place. And it was the right place, too, with the first of the season’s flowers blooming around it, and surprisingly few people, and the sun was gorgeous and warm and sparkling on the water, and seriously, there was so much green. When would he have a chance like this in California?

He kept taking the box out of his pocket and opening to double check it, just to make sure it was still there. It felt unreal somehow, even though he’d had it for the last two weeks, just waiting at the back of the sock drawer.

He still couldn’t help but worry she wouldn’t like it, that it wouldn’t be enough for her. It was kind of small, really, not at all what you’d expect a rising starlet to wear. But he’d picked it out himself because he thought it was her style, and he’d paid for it all up front out of his savings, and he hoped that was enough to make up for its size.

Which was ridiculous to even worry about, because this was Anna, and all she had ever wanted from him was himself, which was maybe even more ridiculous than that.

He heard footsteps and quickly shoved the box back in his pocket, worried she might have caught a glimpse, but it was only an old man passing by and leaning on his cane who gave him a wink. “Good luck with that, kid,” the man said, and Kristoff offered him a weak smile and a nod.

And then there she was, radiant in the midafternoon light in a white sundress. He was struck suddenly by the thought of how she’d look coming down the aisle to him in something similar, and a smile broke out across his face, one that she didn’t return. In fact, as she drew closer, he realized that she looked exactly like she had on their trip to Disneyland after their third time in a row on Space Mountain.

“Kris,” she said the moment she came up to him, not even taking a moment to hug him, “I gotta tell you something.”

“Oh, uh--” He gulped. “I, uh, I kinda wanted to tell you something too. Or, er, ask you.”

“Oh-- oh! Oh, fuck! You go first, then.”

“Well-- I don’t know, it was supposed to be a surprise--”

“Do you want me to walk away and come back?”

“I...yeah, that, uh, that would be good.”

She did, and this time when she came over she was giving him a bright smile, her eyes already shining with emotion even before he got down on one knee.

“Anna,” he said as she drew closer to him, “you’re the most extraordinary person I’ve ever met. You’re the love of my life, and I know I kind of asked this before, but I want to ask it officially. Will you-- oh, fuck, baby, why are you crying so hard? Did I fuck it up?”

She let out a sob. “I think I’m pregnant.”

#HAHAHAHAHHA PLEASE DONT COME FOR MY THROAT #drtlp #my fics

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harrypeglar · 4 years

Text

black sails gift exchange 2019

my recipient is @illgiveyouallofme! hope you enjoy this fic since it uh.... got out of hand very quickly.

posted on ao3 here

Flint has no fucking idea what Silver is doing. What he even thinks he’s doing. His second “daily address” went about as well as the first one. Now he thumbs at a few parchment notes with reluctance, and yes, he’s going to try it again. Twice he has not learned his lesson.

“If you’re trying to impress me, it isn’t working,” Flint tells him, although it isn’t wholly true. He is impressed at how little an apparent sailor can know about sailing, and that Silver is in fact capable of using a compass.

The man sighs as if the beatings he receives from the crew are minor inconveniences, and stands to take center-stage in the mess. Flint raises his brow at the sauntering steps he takes to reach his non-existent pulpit.

It begins like it usually does, with a weather report and a few resigned groans from Silver’s audience before he gets into more pressing matters. Flint, despite his better judgment, had thought that grown men wouldn’t entertain his gossip, but it seems Silver’s estimation of their maturity was accurate. Dooley is quick to blows, dropping the smaller man without pause. Flint winces.

But when he staggers back to his feet, they’re listening.

This one is undeniably worse, and Silver’s beating corresponds with the seriousness of his accusation. The crew member kicks him while he’s laid out on the floorboards, hard enough to bruise, at least knock the breath out of him in the best-case scenario. Flint nearly stands to exchange blows with the goat-fucker, since it appears that Silver can’t do that for himself. (And it’s no wonder; he wasn’t able to fight the Spaniards effectively, not to mention that his frame must be one of the smallest among the men.) But he realizes that he’s still disgraced, and that to get into a brawl would only hurt his chances for captaincy. As the man hauls Silver up by his hair, Flint’s stomach twists, despite reminding himself that Silver too will be better off in the long run if he doesn’t cause a scene.

He briefly wonders when he began taking Silver’s interests into account.

Then the crew is raucous with insults and laughter, and Silver is left alone as the other man is harassed by his mates to what seems like no end. Flint has no interest in it. Instead, he watches the corners of Silver’s lips pull back, revealing blood-stained teeth, into a satisfied smile. His gaze darts over to Flint for- what, approval? Even more surprising is that it’s given to him freely. Flint snorts incredulously and offers a curt nod, meeting his wild eyes in a rare gesture of respect. He’s proven his plan to be effective, something that Flint wouldn’t have believed if he hadn’t witnessed it.

Later, after a whirlwind day, he sees the beginning of a solemn evening. The ship’s company associates Dufresne’s name with a bad taste in their mouths, and then he’s captain again before the night is through.

He’s thoroughly studying his new cabin and its contents when there’s a knock at the door. “Come in.” Silver peeks in first, almost as if afraid to enter, but quickly recovers with a sly smile, closing the heavy cabin door behind him.

“Congratulations, Captain. I’m glad I can call you that again; Mr. Dufresne was a stickler about my habit, but I don’t think I could accept him as a-“

“Take your shirt off.”

A pause and a soft frown. “Beg pardon?”

“You have a bootprint on your chest, for fuck’s sake.” Flint huffs and approaches Silver, who has gained a sort of blank, dumb look on his face. His sleeve is speckled with blood, and there’s a dried line of it still under his chin. “You can’t wear this.”

Silver gives a little shrug, but his breath is shallow from pain. Flint’s heart twinges with sympathy, despite having a damn good case as to why he shouldn’t feel anything for the thief. “I don’t have much else to wear. That striped shirt took quite a beating too…”

“Be mindful not to strain yourself so much, and you can take one from here for the time being.” He turns away, both to find a shirt in the cabinets he’d snooped in earlier and to indicate that he’ll hear no argument. A sigh emanates from behind him, but a rustle of fabric tells him Silver is complying. When he goes to hand off the garment, he’s frozen at the sight of Silver’s mottled torso.

Silver delicately snags it from his hands, glaring. “You know, Captain, I have been beaten before.”

“I’m not surprised,” Flint retorts, and Silver goes curiously silent at that. He doesn’t let the moment linger. Having found a tin of comfrey salve in the desk drawer, he passes it over as well once Silver has the shirt over his head, wincing a little at the stretch. “Take this and use it.” He wants to do the job himself, but that would have dangerous implications, and he doesn’t feel up to analyzing his actions after such a day. Even so, his inspection pauses at Silver’s collar bone when he’s too busy tucking the oversized shirt in to notice where Flint’s eyes are. So maybe he still has some soul-searching to do.

A more cheerful smile plays at his lips now, and he pockets the salve without protest. “Yes, Captain.” At this point, the shit is clearly mocking him, but it feels warm, affectionate. “Anything else?”

Flint’s eyes flick up to meet his. “No. If you would excuse me, Mr. Silver, I do have a course to plot.”

“Of course, Captain. Thank you for the provisions.” He doesn’t stay long enough to see Flint pinch the bridge of his nose in annoyance.

When Silver returns the next afternoon to loiter while he meets with De Groot and Dufresne, he smells faintly like dirt and lavender- an oil probably used to combat the comfrey’s strong scent. Flint doesn’t smile, or make a comment, or inspect Silver head-to-toe the way he wants to, but it’s a near thing.

The next time Silver is injured, it is something that not even he can fix. Much like the other things taken at Charlestown, he has no remedy for it.

He thinks that Miranda wouldn’t want him to cry, not for her, but out of regret and shame for everything he hadn’t done. But he never listened to her concerns before, and it’s all pointless without her anyway. Silver is unconscious for the next week, and the crew steers clear of his cabin. Flint has the freedom to weep for as long as he wishes.

The week is not a long enough mourning period, but he has a ship to run, and John Silver is back in the world of the living. He greets the other man with good news, bad news, anything but discussion of what he’s done, what they’ve unleashed. Flint hates to admit it, but he’s happy to see him, to speak to him again.

And the first piece of information Silver offers him is that the location of the gold has been betrayed to another crew. Flint detects something dishonest in the explanation almost immediately- which part of it, he doesn’t know- but Silver hasn’t even the courtesy to look sorry about it.

He storms out with this revelation, anger fresh and renewed as he reports the account to the crew on behalf of their bedridden “quartermaster”. He reminds himself that they don’t know what a lying shit they’ve voted in and works himself up all over again. Miranda gone, Charlestown gone, Gates gone, the gold gone, and a fucking urchin left in their stead to convalesce in Flint’s cabin.

After days of taut silence between them, Silver spending the whole of it staring into space or looking at Flint when he thinks the other man won’t notice, there is a gentle interruption while Flint is writing in the ship’s log.

Silver clears his throat. “Uh.” His voice is rough with disuse. Flint pauses in dipping his quill. “Captain, would you mind getting a book from the shelf for me? Any one is fine.”

There’s something in his words that just makes Flint more enraged, perhaps the propriety of his request, or the title.

He makes his way to the shelf and picks at random, a heavy leather-bound book that could be handwritten for all he knows. He carelessly tosses it toward Silver, with more aggression than is truly deserved, before pulling his chair out to continue working. Then he hears a gasp.

Unwittingly, he twists to look, concerned even now, and he sees that the book is sliding off of Silver’s lap and down between his thighs, positioned just so that Flint can imagine one of the book’s corners had clipped his bandaged leg. He opens his mouth to apologize, to hastily explain that he wasn’t trying to hurt him, but all that comes out is a thin, panicked noise. And it’s only fitting that he can’t say it, as he knows that he wasn’t trying not to hurt Silver either.

The man clutches at what remains of his left leg, eyes welling up at the pain, shoulders heaving as he waits for it to pass. The tears finally begin to fall when he screws his eyes shut, and Flint wants to shoot himself.

“I’m sorry, I-“ He takes a step closer, and is interrupted by Silver sobbing. It’s when his grip on the stump loosens that Flint realizes that it isn’t about the book or the pain anymore. He sits down facing the window, silent, repentant, as Silver beats his fists against the window frame and cries in a way he’s never seen a man cry before. Like it’s being ripped from him, like the wailing itself hurts.

Flint is quiet, listening for men above and below to make certain that Silver can have this private moment. Not for pride, but for him to be able to perform for no one. That this should not become another stage for others to look upon when he’s in such agony and turmoil.

He rubs his eyes raw while the tears seem to almost choke him. He must have no qualms with such a display of emotion- or more likely, Flint thinks unbidden, he can’t stop himself. It takes forever for it to subside to a more controlled weeping and finally to silent tears, when he begins to regain his breath. Silver’s chest still rises rapidly where he leans against the window frame, but as it appears to calm, he slides down so his head can rest on the cushion below.

It’s only now that Flint reflects on what Silver wanted from their relationship: freedom. Guilt rises in his throat at the thought. Between losing Miranda and remembering how he goaded Silver into loyalty to the crew, tears prick at his own eyes. He has much to regret, it seems.

Silver’s slack hand, the one closest to Flint, trembles after he’s tired himself out. He thinks the man might have just brought his own fever back, and he reaches out to the clammy palm unthinkingly. Silver almost recoils, but he quickly replaces his hand on the seat after flinching away. Flint takes it between his own fingers and presses his lips not to Silver’s skin, but close enough to warm him somewhat.

“Christ, I’m so sorry.” For the book landing on him at the wrong time, for reminding him of this helplessness and the feeling of imprisonment, for asking him to secure votes, for going to Carolina in the first place.

Silver sniffs and swallows thickly, almost nodding off after his episode, but awake enough to know whose hands are on him. “We make quite a pair, don’t we?” He keeps his eyes closed, and his voice is nearly inaudible. He can’t manage a smile, but he hums when Flint encircles his wrist, at least tolerating the contact.

He doesn’t answer, unable to see how they could ever come as a pair after what Flint has done to him. And more than that, with the weight of the gold on their minds. He’s unable to see anything in their future but war and destitution.

Silver falls asleep then. Flint releases his hand and positions it at his side before moving the book to lean against the glass. He feels as though he’s preparing a corpse, pulling the blanket up around Silver’s limp form and gently dabbing at his wet face. Then he sits back and watches the man breathe until the sun has vanished beyond the horizon.

What have they done?

It takes everything in him not to wrap his arms around Silver, and squeeze. Only the presence of the bearded guard dog of a man stops him from following through. It’s a curse that their chances of being alone will only dwindle further after the battle to follow.

Somehow, they’ve both managed to rise from the dead.

Flint can’t take his eyes off him as they walk, Silver hobbling on a crudely-made crutch in the sand beside him. He squints so that it should look like he’s simply avoiding the sunlight. If Silver notices, he doesn’t say anything. And Flint is certain he hasn’t noticed. He would have commented on it by now, probably to tell him to keep an eye out for rocks that the crutch might snag on. It’s unjust that he can read Flint so well and yet cannot see Flint’s nearly senseless love for him.

Silver’s eyes find Madi, and he stays back to allow them a private reunion, but he averts his gaze as their lips meet. He knows well enough it’s not for him to see.

During the fight, Flint is still watching him, ensuring Silver’s safety above his own. He tells himself that it’s only because of his awareness that Silver is the future of these pirates now (whether he wanted to become that or not), but it’s never so simple. He watches Hands slaughter Rogers’ captain, and horribly, he realizes that he envies the man for receiving a go-ahead from Silver. God help him. All the same, the governor’s mansion is theirs, and Nassau is teetering on the brink of safety.

The sky darkens until all they can do is prepare for tomorrow. When they’ve all but rehearsed the expected attack on the governor when he arrives, when they’ve taken stock of their losses and acquisitions, most everyone returns to their places as if nothing has happened at all. The only indications of turmoil are bullet holes strewn about, tattered banners on the streets, and a few men sent to camp out on the beach and keep watch. It still amazes him, how quickly a tide can turn.

Silver is restless as they finish up what they can; he taps his fingers on the governor’s desk as if they itch for something more to do. Flint stands from his perch at the dilapidated window sill to console him.

“We would do well to get some sleep before dawn,” he says gently, cupping the other man’s shoulder. “Where will you and Madi be staying? Where has she gone anyhow?”

He’s almost startled out of a reverie. “Yes, well. She’s catching up with Eme. I doubt they’ll join us until late tonight, if at all. I… don’t know where I’ll sleep.”

“Why don’t you come up to the guest room and lie down?” You’ve been on that crutch all day, he doesn’t say, but the implication is there, as well as the threat that Flint might drag him up if he refuses. Silver wisely nods, and the stairs creak with their combined weight as they ascend to a far-off corner of the mansion. It’s a small room that looks incomplete, with lavish bedding but old walls and furniture. Flint had been looking forward to sleeping in a stationary bed again, but he gestures for Silver to take it instead. He sits down in an armchair in the corner, close to the bed’s headboard.

Silver blinks but takes the offer. They’ve grown close enough, Flint realizes, that this situation does not strike him as strange. His crutch falls gently to the floor once he sits (with a hushed sigh of relief, as usual), and Flint stares at him.

“What?” Silver’s eyes are full of mirth as he looks up from unlacing his boot. Like he knows what, or like he doesn’t want to know. “Something wrong?”

Playing stupid again. But no, he isn’t. He genuinely doesn’t know what’s wrong- Flint can hear it in his tone. There’s nothing smug there, just innocently amused by what he must think to be Flint staring into space.

“No. Nothing wrong.”

His smile softens around the edges. “Are you sure, Captain?”

Flint is not a praying man, but if he was, he’d be praying for God not to let him give himself away. But he isn’t, and God doesn’t do shit for him. “Yes, I’m sure. We’re both alive, aren’t we?” Silver nods in understanding before his mouth betrays him. “You’re alive,” he says in the silence.

“I am.” Silver’s lip quirks up, almost in confusion.

Flint removes himself from the musty armchair and slides down to his knees. They’re only a few feet apart anyway, so he shuffles closer to push Silver’s hair out of his face, tuck it behind his ear. He doesn’t smile or laugh or duck away like Flint expects him to. Instead his hands go to splay over either side of his captain’s face, and he studies Flint’s expression. For what, he doesn’t know. “You’re alive and sitting here with me.”

“I know.” Not that he’s alive, but he knows what it means for Flint to say such a thing. “I know.” Then he leans in until their breaths mingle and shudders, eyes closing involuntarily. “It’s alright,” he whispers, near inaudible, and Flint can’t help himself as his palm trails to cup the small of Silver’s back.

Their lips meet chastely with rigid apprehension at first, before Silver urges him forward, palms pressing flat below his cheekbones as they come back together with more conviction. Flint sucks the other man’s bottom lip between his teeth, grabbing at his hips uselessly until he has the leverage to pull Silver flush against him.

“You fucking scared me,” he says when they pull apart for air. His voice breaks traitorously. “When I thought I’d never get this, that you’d never know… Fuck.”

The corner of Silver’s lip tugs up as if to form a smirk, but his eyes are so earnest as he presses tight to Flint’s chest. Being able to not just see him again but also to hold him like this is a privilege. “Captain,” Silver starts, but Flint captures his lips again before he can say anything else, and the way they both clutch at each other suggests he doesn’t mind the interruption. His hands go to Silver’s curls, gently tugging and settling to cradle the back of his skull.

Silver breaks the kiss and tilts his head back into the touch. His eyelashes flutter briefly, and Flint is enthralled.

“Madi knows, doesn’t she?” Silver nods as well as he can while still reclined, and Flint mouths at the hollow of his throat. “And she doesn’t mind sharing?”

“What do you think?”

He pauses, considering. She had given him a look on the beach when they were waiting for John to turn up as the injured man found in the water. Almost like she wanted to say something to him and hadn’t. Flint isn’t sure he would have been able to hear her out then anyway. He withdraws from Silver just slightly, ignoring his reedy whine at the loss of contact. “I think I should find her in the morning and have a chat.”

Silver nods with a barely-suppressed smile. “And I’m sure she’ll be amenable to it. I have a feeling it will be shorter than you’re expecting.” Flint swats at his knee and stands as Silver huffs a laugh.

“Move,” he instructs, sitting at the edge of the bed. His coat came off a while ago with the warm night breeze picking up, but now he removes his boots as well, Silver’s hands splayed over his shoulders while he waits for the other man to join him.

When Flint turns about to face him, he’s absolutely besotted. Silver, reclining luxuriously in the governor’s guest bed, hair hanging loose and wild, his chest smooth and tan and freely on display under the low-cut neckline of his shirt. His heart aches, and at the same time, he wants to fucking jump Silver more than anything.

“What?” Silver asks, trying to meet his eye with a small, nervous smile. Flint stares at him openly and tilts Silver’s head up to give him a kiss, which quickly becomes filthy. He lets out a soft moan as he opens up for Flint’s exploring tongue, and then an exhale when they separate.

“Nothing. I like to look at you.”

Silver says nothing to that, but his cheeks darken as he lowers his head onto the feather pillow. While he tries to find the edge of the blanket for a hiding spot, Flint stands to lock the door. This one, luckily, was not busted during the initial raid of the governor’s mansion, as the door was already wide open. While he doesn’t think anybody knows which room he’s sleeping in (and nobody would have reason to barge in), he’s not going to take the comfort of privacy for granted.

Once he’s back in bed and under the thin white sheets- probably marring them with whatever grime is left on him from the day- he thumbs at Silver’s cheek with no small amount of adoration.

“I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you,” he murmurs. “I don’t want to think about what I’d become.”

“Then don’t,” Silver replies quickly, touching his forehead to Flint’s. “Think about what we’ll do together now. What we’ll do after all of this is over.”

After. He nods. He hadn’t thought about after, hadn’t thought about surviving this war. But now he finds that the idea of having a life with Silver, finding the peace he’d sought for so long- it is tempting. The desire to follow Silver wherever he goes, mixed with the hatred of this new legend, is strong enough to make him tremble.

Silver places a hand over Flint’s where it cups his face. “It will be finished someday. We’ll not find our end when that day comes.”

Flint nods and holds him tight, as though he might float away, until Silver goes lax in his arms with sleep. His own rest eludes him, but he finds he doesn’t mind. After all of this is over. The same images play in his mind over and over, of a cottage in the countryside with four mugs on the table; Silver being scolded out of the kitchen, and a warm breeze filtering through unbroken windows.

#blacksailsgiftexchange #my stuff #silverflint #black sails #hope u like it

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turning-the-kaleidoscope · 5 years

Text

“Crash” (One-Shot)

Shigeo’s legs can’t hold him for much longer.

The weight of the buildings sinks into his being, suspended in the air over his head but as heavy as they’d be if slammed onto his shoulders. His heart pounds with the throb in his temples and he grinds his teeth against it, arms held high, trembling.

The psychic’s face contorts, stretching with a smile far wider than any smile has business being. White teeth, pale skin, an aura as bright as snow beneath the sun.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” he says, taking a step forward with long strides of longer legs. “And to think, here I was believing I’d beaten you at your own game.”

“You were wrong,” Shigeo chokes, and hates how feeble his voice is, how violently he’s shaking, how hard it is to breathe. “The only person losing here is you.”

The psychic’s smile doesn’t change, though he does halt his approach. “Really? We aren’t even knee-deep in this and you’ve already declared yourself the winner? How immature.”

Shigeo bites back a cry when another building is slammed onto the stack he’s already holding. The weight redoubles and almost crushes him. Him, and Reigen, unconscious and bleeding on the ground behind him.

“You really care for him, don’t you? You do know what kind of person he is, right?”

“I do,” Shigeo manages, strangled. “And that’s why I’m not going to leave him.”

The psychic grins again, and his aura comes to surround him like blades shining in the moonlight.

“If that’s how you want it. Let’s see how far you’re willing to go.”

The buildings come crashing down, harder and heavier than ever, and it brings Shigeo to his knees.

He slams into the ground but keeps his arms above him, keeps his shaking hands splayed, keeps his teeth gritted to the point of breaking. His head hangs like a broken marionette’s and his legs prick like needles. They don’t respond when he tries to stand again.

“I can’t believe this. It’s almost sad. Are you that deluded? Or maybe you’re just stupid.”

Another building, like the weight of the world, and it’s all Shigeo can do to keep his aura wrapped around them, to keep the buildings pinned and suspended, to keep his eyes open.

“You’re stronger than this, I know you are. He can’t teach you anything you don’t already know. Why do you care so much about him? All he’s ever done is use you. You know that.”

The weight crushes him harder. Fireworks explode behind his eyelids. Something in his shoulder twists and snaps but he doesn’t have the energy with which to scream.

“I don’t get you, I really don’t.”

He can’t see even when his eyes are open. He tastes blood. His legs feel like nothing. His arms feel like too much.

“He’s holding you back. You’ll never reach your full potential as long as he has you on a leash. He doesn’t care about you, you know that, right? He’s never cared about you.”

Shigeo doesn’t care about anything else. All that matters is that he keeps this up. All that matters is Reigen. The psychic can come later. The rest of the world can come later. He can come later.

In the creak of his bones, in the burn of his being, he knows it. He can feel it like a ticking bomb with a single digit left on the countdown. Like the blare of a horn moments before impact.

He can’t.

The psychic’s words reach him as befuddled nothings as he forces himself to draw a breath, to make sure his timing is perfect. He blinks until his sight comes back, until he can see Reigen behind him through blurred vision, until he can see how much distance there is between the two. There isn’t much. Barely half a foot.

Shigeo squeezes his eyes shut again, counts to three, and releases the buildings.

They come crashing down on them like waves in a tumultuous sea, and bury them until there’s no trace left.

“... Here--! Hurry up!”

“Nii-san!”

“Kageyama, you--what the hell?”

“Shigeo-kun, you can lower the barrier, it’s alright, nothing will harm you now--”

“I’ll get a medic!”

Shigeo’s eyes flutter open slowly, around the same time his barrier dissipates. Ritsu is sliding down the side of a collapsed building, leaping near the bottom and hitting the ground running. Serizawa and Teru are already here, eyes weary with concern and hands outstretched.

Reigen lies beside him, so close that Shigeo feels his breath, but still somehow not close enough.

“Nii-san!” Ritsu comes skidding on his knees before he can think, and then his hands are on his cheeks, turning his head to force their gazes together. “Are you okay? Ca-Can you hear me?”

“Ritsu...” His voice doesn’t sound like his own. Breathing doesn’t come naturally. “I... where...”

“There’s a team of medics waiting outside,” Teru is saying to Serizawa, in a tone that’s intended to be too quiet for him to hear. “I’ll take him up, you stay with Kageyama. Don’t let him move.”

It doesn’t click, at first.

And then--

“N-No, wait, I-I--”

He tries sitting up, but his vision bursts into stars and sparks and colors and his head implodes with ribbons and rivets of something, but he’s too blinded by it to feel anything but vicious, white-hot agony. The scream grates against his throat, but he can’t hear it.

“--y down, stay down, stay down--”

There are hands on him, drawing him close. The smell of herbal tea and library books fill his nose, and usually it’s comforting, but not right now. Now it’s too much. He still can’t breathe.

“R-Reigen--”

“He’ll be fine, alright? Hanazawa is taking him to the medics. He’ll be alright.”

The relief hits him in a way that both takes his already scant breath away and lifts the crushing weights from his shoulders. The fact that he can’t breathe doesn’t matter as much as it did, and neither does the aching burn in his limbs and the throbbing pulse in his temples. His lungs feel splintered, and that somehow doesn’t matter either.

Serizawa’s aura moves through him like icy water on desert sands. He didn’t realize just how much pain he’d been in until he feels it begin to ease. His lungs and throat clear. He breathes.

“Is... Is he--?”

“He’ll be alright. But he really overdid it. Right now, I think the best thing for him is--”

He passes out.

“... Serizawa told me what you did.”

Shigeo doesn’t look at him. “What did I do?”

They’re sitting side-by-side on the couch of the office, with Shigeo leaning into Reigen’s shoulder and Reigen resting his elbow on the arm of the couch and his chin on his knuckles. His other arm drapes loosely around Shigeo’s shoulders. The bandages around his head look more orange than white in the light of the setting sun streaming through the blinds of the office window.

“You know what you did.”

“I do know what I did,” Shigeo answers, “but I don’t know what I did that’s worth making a big deal over.”

“You--” Reigen swallows hard, brings his hand up to his face. “Serizawa said you overdid it. When he tried to look at the damage in your aura, he said--he said he couldn’t even find your aura right away. That’s how far you overdid it. That’s how bad it got.”

Shigeo looks down at his hands, fingers threaded loosely in his lap. “I... I had to do it.”

“It could have killed you, Mob.”

“It was going to kill you, too.”

“It’s different.”

“I don’t think it’s diff--”

“You’re a kid, Mob, a kid. I’ve lived twice the life you have.”

“That doesn’t mean you weren’t worth saving.”

“Shigeo--”

“You’ve always told me I should make my own decisions,” Shigeo cuts in. He isn’t an argumentative person, but this isn’t a fight he’s going to lose. “And I made the decision to save you. Even though I knew what it’d mean.”

Reigen’s arm around his shoulders tightens. “But--why?”

Shigeo pauses for a long while, mulling things over. He shouldn’t have to explain it. He shouldn’t have to tell Reigen why his life is worth saving. But...

“Because you mean a lot to me,” Shigeo answers quietly. “And you mean a lot to Serizawa, and to the people you’ve helped, and--and to all of us. I wouldn’t be who I am if it wasn’t for you, and... I don’t know what I’d do without you, really. I just...” He bites his lip, averts his gaze. “I wanted you to live, that’s it. I don’t want to lose you.”

Reigen is quiet. The sun dips further, and the ribbons of light streaming through the blinds move with it, stretching stripes across the office.

“I don’t want to lose you, either, Shigeo,” Reigen finally says, in a voice so thick that it barely sounds like him at all. “I just--please. Please. Be--be more careful in the future. That’s all I ask. Please.”

That... That’s something he can do. He can’t promise he won’t do it again, he can’t promise he won’t push himself, he can’t promise he won’t do it for as many times as the people he loves needs saving,

But he can promise to be careful. And he can promise to look after himself better. And he can promsie to do his best.

He nods, Reigen pulls him closer, and they watch the sunset until the moon replaces it, and the night eases them, moment by moment, towards tomorrow.

#Cloud Writes #mob psycho 100 #mp100 #fanfic #drabble and a half #kageyama shigeo #reigen arataka #dadreigen #ya'll can just expect that from me now huh #but anyway #NOT a deathfic #just some good old fashioned hurt/comfort

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testyourloyalty · 6 years

Text

Chapter 13

Trigger warning: Attempted (failed) sexual assault

By the time General Hux woke up several days had passed. He requests to have his datapad delivered to him so he could get in contact to see how Captain Phasma is doing. Upon receiving his tablet he sees multiple notifications illuminating the screen with urgency. Hux unlocks it at once and views the messages, relieved to see one from Phasma asking how he is doing after dealing with Kylo Ren. A small smile flashes across his face before he responds stating that he is healing well; he also asks if there is any new information on your location. She responds that she has information on your whereabouts and is planning for a rescue mission as she typed. After hearing that the ginger immediately requests to be let go from the infirmary. Despite multiple doctors and nurses trying to convince him that he should relax and take it easy Hux is allowed to leave and he makes a beeline to Captain Phasma’s office, knocking briefly before entering.

“General Hux, I didn’t expect you to be up so soon.”

“I can’t expect this mission to not have a leader.”

“I was going to attend myself.”

“Then two leaders for extra precautionary action.” The captain smirks beneath her mask, knowing that nothing she will say can or will deter the man in front of her.

“Very well. You will have two Stormtroopers escorting you in this condition however.” Hux’s lips tighten as he slowly nods.

___________________________________________

You were tied and laying on the floor in that cell that you had been living in for the past five days. Your body was covered in sweat, blood, tears, and several other bodily fluids. You had been humiliated, beaten, and spat on; your wrists and ankles are raw from where you have been trying to tear away at the rope. You lost your voice several days ago from the merciless pain that has been inflicted upon you practically every waking moment save for night time. You know that this was not out of the man’s kindness but his own need to recharge for another day of making your life hell. The familiar sound of your cell door opening causes you to roughly gulp, the saliva stinging your aching throat on the way down.

“Please… Kill me.” You meekly whisper. You had given up hope of the First Order saving you from dying alone by this man.

“Don’t worry.” He says as he gets down on his knees, cupping your cheek in his hand and stroking along your lips. You shudder in fear, tears already pooling to your eyes. “I was planning on making today the day. You’ve been alive too long anyway.” You were scared as you want to die, but what would be next? A million thoughts race in your head, but finally they settle on Hux. You wish you could see him one last time. You missed his scent on those pillows you shared, how he pulled you closer and tighter against his chest as you slept, you missed everything about Armitage. You truly feel alone in the universe and the man before you knows it. A sickly sadistic grin is sprawled across his face as he takes in your beaten and hopeless face.

“Missing someone? Good. Now you know how he felt. How I feel!” He growls at you. “I’m going to make this your worst day yet.” You shake and your eyes widen in fear as you see the man slowly begin disrobing himself.

“Wh-what are you doing…” The man grins while staring at you, working on getting his pants unbuttoned.

“Don’t be naïve.” He looks you up and down as he removes the last of his clothes, taking his member in his hand. He gives it a few strong tugs before making eye contact with you.

“Open wide, girlie.” You sob as you feel his hand grab a fistful of your hair and pull you up by it. Unnoticed by the two of you the door to the room opens quietly. You hear a scream of anger, frustration, and maybe even sadness fill the room and immediately the sound of a blaster firing is heard. Your head falls to the floor, a loud banging sound results from it as you fall unconscious once more.

You jolt awake in a panic, confusion as you recall the odd events that occurred before you passed out. You realize that you are no longer tied… no longer in the cell… you are back in a First Order standard infirmary! You look around in disbelief, certain your mind is playing tricks on you. Or maybe you died and this is the afterlife?

General Hux enters the room and rapidly turns his head in your direction. His face shows that of utter joy and excitement much like a child at their birthday party.

“______!” He rushes over to be by your side and grabs your hand, taking it in his larger gloved ones. He is careful to not hurt you, knowing that your fingers are broken. You look up at the general and smile softly at him.

“If I’m dead, this isn’t too bad.” You say half-joking. Armitage’s face shows extreme concern and sorrow, his crystal eyes seem to stab into your soul like daggers as tears start to fill them and fall from his face. You notice the dark bags hanging from under his eyes pairing with several bruises and cuts down his face which cause you to frown.

“You need sleep.” You sternly say to him. He grabs your shoulders and pulls you into a tight embrace, obviously not planning to let go anytime soon. It hurts a little since you have some broken and bruised ribs among other internal damage, but you do not dare say anything. It felt so nice to feel warm tightness holding you with care as the scent of cinnamon, cedarwood, menthol, and cigarettes invade your nose. You almost did not notice that the man began sobbing uncontrollably and clawed at you.

“I thought… I thought you were dead. I thought I was too late. When I saw him I couldn’t control myself. I kept shooting him over and over again. ______ I can’t lose you again. I hate how weak you’ve made me but I wouldn’t have it any other way.” You panic slightly at his words, rubbing his back as you let him spill onto you. He was obviously carrying a lot of stress that came down all at once but what if Supreme Leader Snoke heard?

“S-sir but what about Snoke? He would nev-“ Hux pulls away from you finally and stares into your eyes.

“He’s dead, ______.” Your mouth hangs agape at the news. “Kylo Ren is the new supreme leader.” It did not ease your concerns about a force sensitive supreme leader listening to these words. Almost as if sensing your concern Hux quickly spoke.

“Kylo Ren leads differently. He leads with fear, as far as he’s concerned we just need to stay in our place.” You gulp and nod.

“However you will be in a different place. You will be getting a promotion as well as I. I am going to become the Commander and you are going to be my personal assistant and bodyguard.” You were excited at the implications of getting to see Hux more at work but understood that your job would become a lot more important which meant that there would be less room for error.

“By the time you are healed the changes should be made in the system and your new uniform will be delivered to our new quarters here on Coruscant.”

“Coruscant? Why are we on Coruscant?” You ask, almost afraid to know since Snoke was killed.

“We took significant damage so commanding officers are to report here for more training, preparations, and planning. Since Luke Skywalker is no longer with us we needed-“

“LUKE SKYWALKER IS DEAD?” You could not help yourself but to blurt it out. Hux sighs and nods.

“I will tell you more while you heal, okay?” Eagerly you nod.

You heal rather quickly over the next few weeks thanks to some new drink the First Order was experimenting with that promotes cell growth. Hux keeps to his word and informs you of what happened in the short time you were gone. He also mentions that Kylo Ren has started talking to himself occasionally which the two of you start to assume is due to him slowly losing it after having been beaten twice by that girl.

You notice you have started having nightmares of the man that had you locked in a cell. You decide to try and keep it hidden and to yourself instead of burdening your boyfriend with it when he has his own issues. You notice he has been sleeping, what you can only assume, more than he had been but his bags still were there. You wonder if he is experiencing something similar to you. You yawn and close your eyes, telling yourself that you will have to ask him tomorrow about his sleep as you scooch closer to the ginger who wraps his arms tightly around you.

#general hux #general hux x reader #star wars #Star Wars The Force Awakens #star wars the last jedi

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verseofthedead · 6 years

Text

Lost in the Snow

if you lower your expectations and this isn’t half bad....lower...lower. no lower... that’s good. enjoy, or not. i’m not your guardian. all mistakes are mine cause how do grammar?

This is something to be said about the isolating feeling of a New England town in winter. Everything is quiet; even my footsteps, dampened by the few inches of snowfall from earlier in the day, seem almost silent. Quiet like this unnerves me. It makes the hair on the back of my neck rise with uncertainty. In the five or so minutes since I left my rusted, old Toyota Corolla in the ditch where it slid; I haven’t been able to keep my eyes forward. I’m afraid one of these moments I’ll look back and someone will be there ill intentioned and ready to strike. I’d never been mugged before, but then again I’ve never slid off the road on the outskirts of an unfamiliar town.

If you’ve never owned a Toyota, they aren’t made for ice and snow, or any harsh weather for that matter. They’re light little things that will shift in a small breeze. So when I slammed on my breaks to avoid the panicked deer that had leapt out into the road, I went spinning. I managed to remember to direct the wheel with the slide instead of cutting harshly against it and that is probably what put me down a bumper and not put me upside down, probably unconscious, on an empty road. Up ahead the town lights glow softly against the deep black of the night sky. It’s January and on nights like this it feels the world is at its darkest. I can make out the lights that align the main road, and even thought they should be a beacon guiding me to safety, they glow a dull, pale orange as if in warning. If one looked at just the right angle, they would say darkness itself was feeding on their luminance.

“Don’t go.”

I swear I heard someone speak from behind me. A low growl of a voice muffled by the quiet of the air. I whip around so fast I slip a little on the snow. Regaining a bit of composure I call out, my voice wavering. If it’s from the cold or from fear I cannot tell. The darkness behind me swallows more of my vision in response. The darkness grows around one point, so dark nothing can reflect back. And in that point of pitch black I swear I see two eyes gleam, barely there and low to the ground watching my every move. A dogs head appears, impossibly dark fur matted and something, blood probably, glistens on its snout.

“Stay.”

Hearing that growl of a voice, barely a whisper, my body goes into fight or flight mode and never being one for a fight, I run towards the lights of the town. My feet scramble on the snow for purchase and whether or not there is someone following after me, I bolt as fast and as far as my body will take me from that point. Taking in lungfuls of bitter cold air, my throat burns in a way I’ve never experienced and despite the pain in my chest I don’t stop until I see the welcome sign of the town which appears much sooner than I was expecting. Even on a good day I am far from a strong runner. The edges of the sign are wooden and worn. White and red paint peels from the parts I can see, but most of the sign is covered in snow, lit by two overheard lights, casting shadows onto the ground. Long and lithe almost like guardians standing watch over the town. My breathes come in painful gasps and wheezes, lungs too tight for comfort as these shadows seem to waiver in and out of reality. I realize now the wind has picked up a little and my mind is playing tricks as the tree branches shift. I look back as a feeling of unease eats away at my gut, gnawing at me to seek out those eyes again. Find some sort of proof they existed and I wasn’t just afraid of the dark. I stared for some time, eyes probing as deep as I was allowed, but there was nothing but darkness. I convinced myself the whispers through the trees were merely my mind trying to make sense out of the wind. Pulling my scarf over my nose and mouth in an attempt to cut out the cold I begin to walk down the lit road I saw earlier before whatever I thought was in the darkness chased me here.

To be honest I’m not sure which town this is. My GPS had cut out along the long road up to the town, it was surrounded by dense forest and that probably is what interfered. When I find some place to stop in I’ll ask and check my phone. I can feel the last bit of adrenaline ebb away and my teeth begin to chatter so harshly I fear a couple might crack. My hands are so numb they feel like the static of an old tube TV left on an empty station. I squeeze them in an attempt to get some blood flow back into them, it’s futile however, my thin excuses for gloves are soaked and frozen over.

I make my way down the main road of the town. It is surprisingly empty for a main road. No cars in sight. It has been plowed recently though, the asphalt striking black strip against the snow piled up on the sidewalks. Both sides of the road were lined with antique lamp posts, each positioned a few hundred feet from the others, covered with a light coating of snow. They’re the old models. The one with the bulb in a box-like casing, pointed on top, with all the electric guts in the large, sturdy base. The glow they emit is soft and orange and when I look up it’s as if the glow barely skims the bottom of the sky, somehow contained to the town. It’s always strange how changing where you stand changes everything about your perspective. Looking around the storefront windows are eerily dark. The light from the street posts barely illuminate the old brick facings let alone the windows. It’s as though someone hung a black curtain over all of them. Most of the windows have some business signage painted on them. A few thousand feet away on the other side of an intersection there is the distinct shadow of a church. I squint to take a better look at it, its design is simple in nature: a plain white building with a single steeple, three large windows with bull’s-eye glass panes, two framing the welcoming red door and one in the middle of the steeple. A top it all lays a thick weather beaten cross painted bronze. It looms, as if passing judgment on those who walk up to it. The windows that frame either side of the big red door are the only other source of light in this town and I shrug as I make my way towards them. I’m not sure about God and his “plans” but I am sure that whoever resides there is probably kind enough to offer some sanctuary and help me get my car out of the ditch and back on the road. Or at the very least, get myself towed into town and set up in a hotel. If this place even has one.

I make my way to the church and as I look around I notice just how abandoned this town feels. Beyond your usual New England fair, the world is muted in sound and color. As if the snow has blocked the town away from the rest of the world. I struggle to think of a word to describe what kind of place this is, and the best I can come up with is luminal. Even as I think it, the word morphs into a sinister feeling that crawls its way up my spine prodding as it goes. I reach the intersection and the snow drift kicked up by the wind makes it difficult to see down the perpendicular road. It’s like the town ends where the road is no longer visible and I shudder violently against the cold, crossing hastily to the church. Taking the old snow-covered stone steps two at a time I reach the red door and grasp a bronze knocker I couldn’t make out when I was first looking at the church. It’s terrifying to look at. A man’s face, rendered in horrifically realistic detail screaming in agony, his head pierced through the temples by the knocker. His eyes belie immense pain and from each orifice bronze rivulets of an unknown substance, possibly blood, have been carved. I can’t stand to look at it so I turn my head as I knock once, twice, three times and wait. Shoving my hands in my jacket pockets I glance back down the stairs. The town is barely visible behind a wall of snow drift, yet the wind didn’t seem as though it had picked up. It worries me that I’ve reached the point I’m so numb from the cold I hadn’t noticed the wind.

A small sliver of light appears and casts my shadow onto the ground. It is much shorter than the long one that is cast beside mine, I turn around and jump as the old man that answered the door stood much closer than I had anticipated. He is dressed in a solid black clergy cassock with gold buttons trailing down the front. His face is aged and wrinkled, with clear grey eyes lit up with some sort of mischief. He is bald except for the crown of grey hair round his head.

“Ah, hello there child. Lost are we?” His voice is dry like leaves in fall, crisp and crackling. His smile doesn’t reach his eyes and I feel much less comfortable standing next to him than I did wandering the roads in.

“I’m not lost, per se. I had an accident down the road.” I gestured vaguely behind me. Not wanting to take my eyes off of his. That deep unsettling feeling I felt when I was first walking down the road returned. I didn’t want to turn my back to him “A deer ran out in front of me and I ran off the road. Uh, there was a dog too.”

“Did you kill him?” The question itself didn’t surprise me, but the nature of how he asked it. As if the dog was a common annoyance that must be taken care of.

“Uh. I don’t think so?” I hadn’t really stopped to look for the dog. Really I had yelled into the woods while I tried to make a call on my cell. It was the lack of service that prompted me to seek out the town. “Can I step inside?”

“Of course! How rude of me. You must be freezing to death out there.”

Pushing the door open a little more and stepping aside he bowed slightly as I stepped into the warm church. I watched him shut the door and make his way towards the front towards the Alter.

I stayed back wanting to take a quick look around. Along the walls were tapestries of Jesus’ trials, some depictions of angels on high, with their horns blaring out the end of the world, and some dark illustrations of what most certainly are hell; Fire and Brimstone galore. When I finally looked towards the front of the church he was there, watching me from the pulpit. I started to feel queasy and remembered I came here to warm up and make a call. Pulling my gloves off was more painful than I wanted it to be, my hands were a bright red, raw from the cold. I shook them a bit until the pins and needles subsided. Reaching into the front pocket of my green pea coat my hand grasped pocket lint where a cell phone should be. Swallowing down the wave of fear rising in my throat I tried to search the other pockets without coming off as frantic. I always put my cell in the right pocket, it wasn’t there or in any of the other pockets, inner and outer. It wasn’t in my jeans either and I felt the panic begin to take over. It must have fallen out when I was running. Now I’m stuck in an unknown town with a strange man in an empty church, blanketed by a new England winter. I honestly doubt if anyone would hear me scream even if they stood outside the door.

“Something wrong dear?” His voiced carried across the church high up into the rafters.

“Uh… I, uh I lost my cell phone somewhere and I need it to make a call.” My throat feels dry and the air feels thick around me.

“Cell phones aren’t allowed here and even if they were, there’s no signal.” He chuckles at that. “Besides you don’t need them anymore.” His words were calm as he gazed at me. I felt indignant; certainly I’ll need it to call someone when I get back to my car.

“What, what do you mean I don’t need my cell phone anymore. How else am I going to call for a tow truck? Unless you have a tow truck in town? If you let me sleep here I’ll just go there in the morning.”

“There won’t be a tow truck.” He looks down at me, his emotions unreadable. “You don’t need one anymore.”

“What, no I have a car just down the road!” My voice carries high into the ceiling. My panic echoes off carved angels and devils. My car is down the road in a ditch. There was a dog and he might have been rabid so I ran here to get some help.”

“He does have the particularly difficult task of getting people to listen to him.” The Priest smiled. “But now you’re here and we have to figure out what to do with you.” Now he just wasn’t making any sense. Without turning my back to him I walked slowly until my back hit the door. Frantically I groped around behind me until I finally found the doorknob which forgivingly turned and unlocked.

“Look, I have no idea what the hell you’re talking about but I’m going back to my car! You can just send someone to pick me up in the morning.”

“That won’t be necessary, but go. See for yourself.” He turned and sat in the modest, tall backed chair. “I’ll be here when you get back and we can proceed from there.”

I ripped the door open, light spilling onto my path, and slid down the stairs, my knees colliding harshly against the stone there. Looking down the intersection the asphalt was still clear, but I still couldn’t make out where they lead to. The wind had picked up and the snow drift blocked whatever lay beyond it. My heart beat a vigorous tattoo against my chest as I ran down the main road which had sprung to life. Around me tall shadows moved around the little town and I dipped and bobbed through them. Terrified of what might befall me if I touched one. The lights in the storefronts were on and there was nothing inside them. No one is here but that priest and these things. I won’t find any help here. I have to get back to my car and find the way back.

When I reached the welcome sign that damned black dog was there. My head pounded and it felt like my brain was trying to punch its way out of my skull. Why couldn’t I remember the direction I came from? When I reached the towns edge the darkness had drawn closer. I could barely make out the welcome sign.

“I’m sorry. You have to stay here.” The growling voice I had heard in the darkness.

“I have to get back to my car!” I yelled, feeling much braver with the adrenaline and fear coursing through my blood making my skin hot. “Who the fuck is out there!?” From the darkness stepped that damned dog. Steam rose from its face as it huffed at me. It’s eyes were a deep brown, almost human and they looked at me forlornly.

“There is no car. It’s gone. You are gone. I tried to get you to stay, but you ran.” It’s mouth didn’t move but I heard that voice all the same. “I can’t get you from there, he won’t let me cross the threshold.” The dogs snout lifted back towards the town. “And you can’t cross back.”

I took two steps towards him before two shadowy figures moved into my peripheral. Tendrils of shadow grasped at my arms and forced me back. It was those long shadows that had looked like people, the ones from earlier, the sentinels that stood underneath the sign.

“You have to go now. If you’re lucky he’ll send you down the road. I’m sorry I couldn’t bring you back” The dog turned back into the darkness, the winter swallowing him whole.

Roughly I was tossed back onto the ground. One of the sentinels pointed to the sign, and my eyes followed. What I saw made my heart drop. The snow had fallen off the rest of the sign and there in blood red paint brilliant against worn wood covered in white paint were the words:

Welcome to Purgatory.

#spooky #maybe?#original fiction

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nightiingaled-a · 5 years

Text

Lunarius Decoded.

A collection of Lunarius’ personal reports seized and translated from an old Niflheim code

M.E. 751 - April 23rd – [handwriting is erratic and hard to decipher]

I’m really dying this time. The scourge has gone too far. I ache. Mother, please send it away. Spare me this suffering. My fingers can barely hold my blade. The cadets are violent, they are cruel. They see my weakness. They have beaten me until I’ve coughed black, twice already.

Anatolius said we are leaving tomorrow.

He is going to execute me. I know it. I am afraid of death. I am so afraid.

M.E. 751 - April 25th – [handwriting is far neater]

The Oracle is so beautiful. She must be an Astral herself.

M.E. 751 - June 3rd

It’s gone. I think it’s really gone. The Oracle did it. I have waited a month–more–afraid that it would be a dream. I have not known a life without the scourge running through my blood.

I feel clean. I feel strong.

I wish mother could’ve met her. I wish father had known–she could’ve lived.

[the page has been burned, most, including the date, is indecipherable save for a few words; date assumed a few days after last entry]

██████Anatolius ████████████████████████my fault.

████████████████████████████████████████████████ ████████████████████████████████████████████████ ████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████

I’m not safe here. No one can save me. I’m alone.

M.E. 752 - February 15th

Marshal Cor Leonis. They call him the Immortal. Remember his name. He is your greatest threat.

M.E. 752 - February 16th

I attacked the Marshall. No reason except he made me angry and I wanted to. I had no hope of winning but I know a little more about him now. Not enough to condense, not yet.

Be careful now, don’t push too hard. He’s far too observant.

M.E. 752 - April 26th

Assume the Marshall is 5 steps ahead at all times.

M.E. 752 - June 2nd

The Marshal is….growing on me. He is as stubborn and hard to please as the commanders, but his guidance is helpful. He cares??? He wants good soldiers, not perfect killers.

I hate him. i hate him i hate him.

M.E. 752 - December 20th

I met the daughter of the King’s Shield, Clarus Amicitia. He and the Marshall questioned me for long periods a few months back, about my background, again. I am afraid they are suspicious, though nothing has come of their hunt. Perhaps it is routine. Perhaps they think time will crack my mask. No such luck. I have but one mask and it has not cracked in years.

The girl though. Young. Ten-Eleven. Protection detail. More like babysitting. There were a hundred Crownsguard in the ballroom. Nowhere safer, except right next to me. She’s a spunky brat.

I could use her, if necessary, to escape the city. Or for petty revenge. If I go down, I’ll take the girl with me. Cripple the Shield, you cripple the King.

M.E. 753 - April 5th

Zhu Xiaowen. Fabul Refugee. I want to make an ally of him. But I’m ashamed.

I’m beginning to question what I know of Niflheim. Lucis is not what I believed. The Lucians are scared. They are not things of of child’s nightmares. I am beginning to question if I have been the monster all along.

I need to go to the archives some more.

M.E. 753 - September 25th

Anatolius arrived. I believe he is here to kill me on behalf of the Empire. I have not made a report since late April. I will have to convince him to trust my word or I will have to kill him.

I’m afraid that tomorrow I may die, I do not know if I am strong enough to make that kill.

M.E. 753 - September 27th [handwriting incredibly erratic; needlessly spread out across the page; largely print]

Not safe. Not safe.

Not safe.

can’t see. scared. run. run.

run. must. run.

too dark. feet hurt. breathe. cant. cant breathe.

am i dead????

M.E. 753 - October 3rd

Xiaowen visited me in the infirmary today. Confirms I’ve been mostly unconscious for the past week. I don’t even remember the last entry, must’ve been drugged. I can’t believe I’m alive. I can’t believe Anat is dead.

It hurts to breathe. My eye is still swollen. They said there was blood on my brain for a short time. I should be dead. Why? Of all my bad luck, why now? I don’t think I want to live.

M.E. 753 - October 5th

The Marshal questioned me today. If he suspects anything I cannot tell. Maybe it is routine. I do not wish to be found out now. Not when it is official. I’m a traitor to Niflheim.

I hope my parents are proud.

M.E. 753 - October 7th

Xiaowen has kept me company this week. It’s been nice. He brought sweet steamed buns again. He is such a kind friend. I want to tell him. I need to tell someone, it’s driving me insane. Everything I’ve known, everything…I’ve given it all up for them.

For Xiaowen, for the Crownsguard. For the Marshal. I can say nothing. No one can know or I’ll be arrested, or killed. Or…worse. I remember what Niflheim did to my mother. They same would happen to me. But I hate lying to Xiaowen. He deserves better.

M.E. 753 - October 9th

The nightmares are worse. I think I’m going to request a return to duty.

I am not fully healed but I cannot dwell any longer on these nightmares without a distraction.

M.E. 754 - January 4th

This winter has been strange. I know Niflheim has not forgotten about me and yet their grip seems so far. I feel strangely safe. It will not last, but I’ll enjoy it while it is here.

M.E. 754 - January 10th

Another ball. A waste of time surely, a false play in politics and safety. I don’t know. The Crownsguard must all attend. Cor didn’t change from his usual attire, lucky him. I was guarding the Amicitia younger once again. She’s actually an interesting girl. There’s a weight on her shoulders though, heavy for someone so young.

M.E. 754 - January 13th

According to Gladiolus and I quote “Iris has adopted you.” I didn’t know preteens could adopt 20 somethings but here we are. Lucis is so strange. She always so cold and I keep using my magic to help her stay warm. Girl needs like 6 jackets.

I fear Niflheim will take my reports and use them against this family. But if they do, I already know I would give my life to protect her.

M.E. 755 - January 11th

I had a nightmare last night. Niflheim captured the Crownsguard. They offered to spare me. Just kill one. Kill him and be spared. I…did it. I killed him. I didn’t question, I didn’t hesitate. I killed him like nothing had ever changed.

I’m not like that right? Not anymore. I wouldn’t. Even if they took the city tomorrow, I would never betray them.

M.E. 755 - January 12th

Who am I trying to fool with that lie? I’m not anyone’s friend. No matter what side I’m on now I will always be the enemy. I’m selfish and I want to survive and I would kill anyone to do so. That’s all I am, it’s all I ever will be. I’m lying if I believe any different.

M.E. 756 - May 14th

This treaty can only mean trouble. I think the King already knows, it’s why we’ve been ordered out of the Citadel. I’m going to talk to my friends, I want them to get out of the city. They’ll argue it’s desertion, but…the King is already a dead man. Can’t they feel it?

M.E. 756 - May 15th

Would it be a punishable offence to kidnap someone to save their life? This treaty will end badly and the Amicitias will be at the center of it. Iris does not have to share her family’s burden or their sacrifice. Not yet. Can I get her out of the city in time? By myself? I might not get out of the city alive, but I can say I tried?

#♜ drabble ⇾ adri.#this is a journal collection #unreality cw

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mclennunf · 7 years

Text

This Boy - Chapter 31

A/N: yes its a day early!! enjoy :)

~John's~

"You got bloody married?!" George shot up off his kitchen chair and onto his feet, running over to the doorway where I was standing and throwing his arms around me. "That we did!" I chuckled, hugging him back. "Sit down, sit down! Have a cuppa tea." George was nearly vibrating he was so happy. "I'm sorry Paul wasn't the one to tell ye." I apologized as I sat down with him at the table. "It's alright, mate! I can understand why it needed to be just between the two of ye." George brushed it off, and poured my tea.

"So tell me about it! I thought there might have been a reason for you two runnin' off so soon before the trial." George was extremely intrigued. I was never one to talk gushy shite. "Ah Paul will fill you in on all the soft details, Geo." I laughed, blowing on my tea. "Speaking of the trial.." I sighed. "You're nervous, huh?" George observed, crossing his legs and allowing his face to drop to a more serious expression. "'Course I am. But, you should see Paul. He's a nervous wreck." I went on.

"Sharing our emotions now, John? Thought you didn't dig the soft talk." George joked with me. "Nah I'm only joking, go on, mate." George went back to being serious. "Ah. He was just a shaky mess yesterday, mate." I explained. "Where is he now, then?" George asked, tilting his head like a small puppy. "He wanted t'spend some time with Mike and Gin. Although Gin said she's takin' Mike into Blackpool.. I think Paul just wants some time alone." I admitted, still worried for my husband. "Don't sweat that, John. We both know how Paul can get, he's a worrier. He's an anxious worrier, making it that much worse." George rambled a little bit. I knew he was right, but I couldn't help but worry.

"Yer right, 'e probably just wants some time to think, y'know, prepare himself." I nodded as I sipped on my hot tea. "I was meanin' t'ask Paul this, but I suppose yer just as good..." George began as he stood up to rinse out his now empty cup. "What's that?" I raised an eyebrow and him curiously. "Well, y'know, since I was there for pretty much the whole damned ordeal.. D'ye think Paul would want me to y'know, testify or whatever?" He asked as he sat back down. I smiled at the thought. That would help so much! Paul would feel much better with his best mate up on the stand with him. "George, I know it's not me place t'say, but I think that's a bloody brilliant idea." I agreed excitedly. "Ye do?!" George asked, his eyes wide. "Yeah, mate. That would help our case substantially, plus I think it would help relax our Paul." I told him. I knew it would help. George had always been there for the both of us, but at the end of the day, he was always there for Paul.

"It makes me sick t'think there's even a slight chance that he won't be sentenced guilty." George added, looking sincerely sick to his stomach. "I think there's a 99% chance of him going away for good, mate. Don't you start worryin' on me, I've already got enough doubt on me hands dealin' with Paul." I tried to joke, but I was serious. I knew this was going to be a bumpy road for all of us. "Y'know I'm gonna worry, mate. You both almost died 'cause of this bastard." George so brutally reminded me. "I know. Those were horrible days, weren't they?" I chuckled a little bit to hide my uneasiness. "Seems like yesterday, though. You came into his life and changed it forever. I could never have done what you did." George became oddly serious. "What do you mean?" I asked, puzzled and concerned for his response. "I mean, you all of a sudden just cared so much. You're the reason he all-of-a-sudden had the courage to stand up t'his father and say no. Remember? When he was tellin' Paul 'n Mike they were moving to Scotland?" George asked, reminding me of the day my husband was almost beaten to death.

"Ye, I remember. Jim almost killed Paul for that. Can't say I'm proud for bein' the reason behind it..." I said with an odd tone, unsure of whether or not I was mad at George for saying that or not. "Nah, mate I don't mean it's your fault he got hurt. I mean you're responsible for giving the kid some damn respect for himself." George smiled slightly as he spoke. I looked at him with disbelief. "You know how Paul was treated at home and at school. If you were him, would you have any self respect either? Betcha' he doesn't think he deserves you." George hit the nail on the head with that one. I knew Paul, and I knew he felt that way. "Yer right. I'm worried because I don't think he sees what Jim did t'him t'be a big deal, y'know? Like just because it was him. If it had been Mike, it'd be different. I think he's worried the judge might see it the same way. If that makes sense." I tried to explain, realizing I was just spewing out my thoughts all at once on George.

"No no, I know what you're tryin' t'say. But mate, I gotta say, when he has someone who loves him as much as you do... I don't think ye 'ave much t'worry about. He's gonna do this, and he's gonna do great." George smiled. Sometimes it was easily forgotten how George was younger than both Paul and I because of how wise he could be. He had such an old soul, and I loved that about him. "Thanks mate." I smiled at George as I spoke. "You two might want to consider telling Ritchie about ye two as well. He's gettin' suspicious." George warned me. "I'm not worried about Ritchie. We'll tell him soon. I'm sure he'll be coming to the trial, yeah?" I asked. "Of course he will! He's gotta be there to support you lads." George told me with a wide smile. "Y'know, I know that rubbish was hard on you too, Geo." I said in a low voice. "It was, yeah." George's smile faded rather quickly. "I know he's your husband now, but he's always been me best mate. I've almost watched him die one too many times, bloody hell, I dream about it still." George admitted, standing up to pour himself another cup of tea nervously.

"George..." I tried to begin, but he wasn't finished yet. "I tried t'fuckin' help 'im, y'know?" He went on. He poured his tea down the drain and opened the cupboard, grabbing a bottle of whiskey and two glasses. I smirked at the sight. "I knew as soon as his Mum died that things weren't goin' well. Even told me Mum and Dad, they went over there to talk to Jim and he seemed as right as rain." He poured our glasses almost to the rim as he spoke. "Me parents were mad at me, can you believe that? They said I had accused a sorrowing man of abusing his son when all he was doing was mourning the loss of his wife." George took a large gulp, as did I, and we both made a twisted face at the cheap whiskey taste. "Not long after that, the bugger started comin' t'school with a black eye, or cigarette burns on 'is arms. Bloody teachers just thought 'e was gettin' bullied." George was pouring out his horrible memories of his best mate, my husband. It made my heart ache. "Finally I showed up at the McCartney's house unannounced. Which as you know, is quite unlike me. I was goin' t'knock, but I heard Mike screamin', 'e was just a wee baby then. I walked in and that was the first time I found Paul unconscious gettin' repeated blows to the head from his father." George stared down into his glass as he spoke.

My heart was beating fast. I had never considered the fact that this whole situation didn't just mess up Paul, Mike and I, bu it had also clearly messed up our mate pretty bad. "Did Jim come at you?" I asked, the words slipping out of my mouth before I could stop them. I took a long drink from my cup, the same twisted face followed. "Nah. I grabbed Mike and ran home. Got me parents, and of course they called the police. Paul and Mike stayed with us for about a week until the police thought Jim was fit to go home, blamed it on Mary's death." George shook his head again. "D'ye think that's why he started drinkin' so much, though?" I asked, once again not controlling my filter. "Yeah, I do. But the resemblance between Paul and Mary was uncanny. I think it scared Jim, y'know?" George added and I finally watched his face soften. "You knew Mary?" I asked, with a hopeful voice. "Yes! Oh, John you would've loved Mary. Such a sweet woman she was." George smiled as he topped off both of our glasses.

"Paul doesn't talk about 'er much." I said, noticing the alcohol begin to blur my vision even more so than it already was. I pulled my glasses out of my pocket and placed them on my face. "You don't talk about Julia much." George said. His words floored me, I hadn't expected him to bring up Julia. "Well Geo, I didn't know her very well." I sighed. I felt more comfortable now that I had some liquor in my system, otherwise I would've gotten defensive about Julia. "I know, but you should know you can talk about 'er." George tried to comfort me. I smiled at his attempt. I had never really had conversations like this with anybody but Paul, it was refreshing.

"Julia was lovely. Unfit to be my mother, I guess. Or maybe I was unfit to be her son." I sighed as I spoke. "What makes ye say that?" George asked. "Well she was ill, y'know. She couldn't quite handle it. Of course she could when she remarried and had a whole new family. I'm glad I reconnected with 'er, but I also hate that I lost 'er twice." These words were some that I'd never said to anybody before. "I'm sorry, mate." George said, rather quietly. "Ah, it's all over now. I've got you guys for a family now. Dysfunctional and broken, but we're family mate." I smiled at him, watching a smile grow on his face too. I felt myself begin to choke up. I cleared my throat and took another swig of my drink. "So much for not gettin' soft." I laughed, George joining me.

"Well, Geo. As lovely as this as been, I best go check on my husband and make sure he's not gone stroppy on me." I said as I finished my drink, standing up and immediately feeling the alcohol in my wobbly legs. "Alright mate. Come by later, if you and Paul wanna help me finish this bottle to celebrate the secret wedding." George joked as he walked with me to the door. "Ta for everything, mate." I smiled, definitely drunk. "Aye, thank you." George nodded and watched me leave.

It was raining lightly as I walked back to Paul's house, quite refreshing considering I was a little but drunk. I thought about what George had said felt quite guilty. I had never thought about how the whole situation may have effected him in the long run, and it obviously had substantially. I arrived at Paul's and opened the door quietly, realizing it was passed Mike's bedtime. I kicked off my shoes and peered around to see where Paul was. Gin must have been in bed, or else she would've been in her usual spot on the couch reading her books. Paul sat at the kitchen table, looking oddly similar to the scene I had just left at George's. He sat with a bottle of whiskey on the table and a glass, except he was alone. "M'love?" I called to him as I slowly entered the room. "Bad day?" I asked, sitting down across from him. Paul's eyes were blood shot, as if he had seen a ghost. "Paul, yer scarin' me. What's going on?" I asked, reaching across for his hands. He quickly pulled away, his sudden movement scared me. "Paul!" I almost shouted, being cautious of his sleeping family upstairs.

"I can't do this, John." Paul finally looked up at me, revealing tears streaming down both of his cheeks. My heart nearly stopped, my drunken stomach flipped. "Can't do what?" I asked, noticing he was playing with his wedding ring. "No, what the hell do you mean?" I asked sounding a little more angry. "I can't..." Paul began sobbing into his hands. I looked at the bottle of whiskey on the table and noticed there was maybe only a shot left. He was knackered, more so than I was. "I'm going to stay at Mimi's tonight and I'll give you some space." I said as I stood up, heading toward the door. "John?" I heard his small voice say from behind me. I had to repress the anger I was feeling toward him right then. I turned around slowly. "Yes, Paul?" I said, trying to sound soft and sweet.

"I love you."

"I love you too, m'love."

#mclennon #mclennon fanfiction #this boy

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kazosa · 7 years

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For the Love of Bre

Request: I was thinking something like a close friend of Sam and Dean's who's only a year older than dean gets kidnapped and tortured by demons and the boys call John to help find her. He's worried sick cause he loves her but never told her and he doesn't want to lose her like he did Mary maybe a part two where she has nightmares about it and doesn't sleep for days and John helps her?

@brebre149 hope I got the feel you were looking for!

If you want to know how we got this far, the link to the beginning is below:

PART ONE

PART TWO

It wasn’t easy tracking down the demons. One day turned into two…then three. John was near frantic by the time he and the boys had nailed down a solid location. Three days the demons had her. He hoped there would be something left of her to save. If he knew Dru, she would make it last as long as possible. There was an abandoned warehouse on the south end of Omaha that Dru had taken over. No one would bother her there. It was big and foreboding to the average person. Everything about it said “go away.” They loaded up with holy water, demon blades and pouches of salt. John steeled himself for Drusilla. She was a ruthless bitch and would stop at nothing to get what she wanted. They went into the warehouse and were immediately met by demons. Dean and Sam led the way killing demons leaving John mostly free to get to Bre. She was being held on an apparatus that held her arms and legs spread wide making it extremely difficult for her to move or get any leverage. She had no idea that he and the boys were even there. He figured she was unconscious… hoped she was unconscious. Seeing her like that lit a fire under him and he went on a rampage killing all of the remaining demons, aware that Drusilla still hadn’t shown her face. He got to Bre. “Bre, sweetheart,” he grabbed her head and lifted it so he could see her face. “Breanna! You look at me when I’m talking to you!” Her hair was crusted with blood and she looked like she’d been beaten repeatedly, but she was still alive. Her face scrunched up when she heard her given name. “Breanna, open your eyes, look at me!” John demanded. He watched her eyes roll in her head and finally come to rest on his face. “No! It’s another trick, get away from me!” she screamed. John got out his knife and cut her down from the apparatus she was tied to. She tried to fight him as she fell into his arms. She even landed a few solid punches before passing out again. He was proud of her that she still had the fight in her after three days of what looked like intense torture. He cradled her limp body to his. Sam came running up. “We got ‘em, Dad. Dean’s looking for more, but we think we’ve cleared it. Jesus… Bre…is she…” he said. “Did you get Drusilla?” John asked, his voice cold. “I… I don’t think so,” Sam answered. “Dad, Bre?” “She’s still alive. Get her out of here, now,” John said and passed off Bre into Sam’s arms. “Do whatever it takes, Sam. Don’t let her die.” Sam adjusted her up into his arms, “I will, Dad.” John watched as Sam practically ran out of the warehouse. “DEAN!” he called to his oldest son. Drusilla walked Dean out into the light, a long blade held to his neck. “Let him go and I’ll kill you quickly,” John told her. “You think I’ll just let you all go?! After everything you’ve taken from me?!” Drusilla raged. Drusilla had come fully into the light, pushing Dean in front of her. Her rage was blinding her from seeing what was happening around her. “Here we are again, Dru. Me and my boy killed all of your buddies leaving just you. I’m thinking it’s not my fault they’re dead, I’m thinking it’s you,” he goaded her. She threw Dean to the side and charged at John. She moved fast, but he was faster. His demon blade was buried to the hilt in her chest. She had a surprised look on her face for a moment before she started to spark and burn from the inside out.

FLASHFORWARD five days later Bobby usually didn’t mind when John was around. He was quiet, kept to himself and cleaned up after himself. The circumstances of his current visit were far less pleasing. He’d brought Bre to his house to recuperate. Since neither John nor his boys had a house, that left Bobby’s house. Bre was a good kid and he didn’t mind her being there, especially since she was recuperating in John’s room. Bre had been passed out for a couple days. She finally came to on the third day and John was there in the room with her when she did. “John? You’re alive?” she asked. He jumped out of the chair he had been sitting in and went to her bedside. He took her hand and put it on his face, “Yes, I’m alive. Why would you think I was dead?” “That demon told me she killed you and the boys, I thought it was real. She… she said that you were dead that she ran her blade through you… the boys…” she couldn’t form a coherent thought. “Shh shh,” he tried to soothe her. “I’m alright. The boys are just fine. They’re outside with Bobby working on the Impala. We’re fine. We’re more worried about you. She worked you over pretty good. You didn’t talk though, did you?” Bre shook her head and tears rolled down her cheeks. “John, stay with me. Please?” The last word barely more than a whisper. He didn’t need to be asked twice. He kicked off his boots and climbed into the bed behind her. He put one arm under her neck and the other over her side and hugged her to him. She grasped his arms and pulled them tighter against her like she needed the reassurance that he was, in fact, still alive. A few moments later, he felt her body be racked by sobs. He hadn’t held anyone like that since Mary. Bre was completely different from Mary, but he loved her just the same. He wasn’t going to let her get away from him without her knowing it. He just held on to her until they both fell asleep.

Over the next three days, he spent almost every moment with Bre to make sure she was okay. She didn’t want to talk about what Dru had done to her, she would only say that she was beaten. He thought she needed to talk about it more, but assumed she was dealing with it in her own way. During the day she seemed fine, it was at night that it got tough. He would sit up with her until she fell asleep. Then he would sleep on the floor, or in the chair, near her bed. After three days, he couldn’t ignore cases anymore. Bobby was practically chomping at the bit to get him out of his house and onto a case. He assured John he could take care of Bre while he was gone. Reluctantly, he decided to go. He told Bre he was going and she seemed to understand, almost urging him to go. “Bre, I promise, she’s dead. She won’t be coming for you. Dean and Sam killed the rest of them. You’re safe here,” he reassured her. “I know. I just…be safe, okay?” she said, not willing to meet his gaze. He kissed her forehead and said, “I’ll be back as soon as the job is done, I promise.” She looked up briefly, smiled and nodded. He tried to tell himself that she was fine and would be okay while he was gone.

FLASHFORWARD 7 days “John,” Bobby said, “you gotta finish up. I can’t get Bre to eat. She don’t look good, hoss.” “Shit. What happened? She seemed fine when I left. I thought she’d be heading out from your place by now,” John said. “That demon had her three days, John. The girl’s been tortured. She ain’t eatin’, ain’t sleepin’. I hear her roaming around the house at night. It’s creepy as all hell, if nothin’ else.” Bobby told him. A chunk of ice settled in John’s gut. He should have known. She needed more than just a couple days to recover. She wasn’t the type to compartmentalize like he and the boys were. She’d always been there to take care of him and his boys and now as soon as she needed someone, they’d all taken off at the first opportunity. “Fuck, alright. I’m on my way,” he told Bobby.

It was late morning and Bre was sleeping. Instead of at night, she was sleeping during the day. That wasn’t like her at all. She was always one of those annoying morning people who could be bright and shiny so early in the day. He sat down hard on the bed on purpose. “John?” she said bleary-eyed. “What in the hell are you trying to do? Why aren’t you eating? Do you WANT to die? Should I have left you with Drusilla to finish the job? Is that it?” he filled the room with his voice. “Don’t you know what time of day it is? You need to get your ass out of bed and start being a productive member of this family, you got me? Are you gonna keep mooching off Bobby or what?” “Why don’t you just go to hell?” she hissed. “I’m not going anywhere til you tell me what the hell is going on with you,” he said, he thought for sure that the ‘tough love’ would snap her out of it. Her expression changed from that of abject hate to that of terrified girl. “I can’t sleep at night. All I see is Drusilla and her goons coming for me. When I do doze off, the nightmares start right away and I wake up. All the time… my stomach turns, my body hurts and I’m scared.” He looked at her again. She had dark circles under her eyes, she’d lost weight and she looked ill. He instantly felt bad for being so rough on her. “Shit,” he muttered. “You don’t have to say it, just stay. The last good sleep I had was with you,” she said. He stood up and started taking off his clothes. He’d been in them for two days and he couldn’t take it anymore. He looked at her watching him. She didn’t turn away. She just looked at him in that way she had that dared him to say something. He stripped down to his t-shirt and boxers. Throwing back the covers he slipped into his bed and laid on his back. “C’mon,” he said, “get over here.” She practically collapsed from exhaustion onto his chest. He held her and rubbed her back, but it was more for his comfort than hers. He would never be so far away from her again. He promised himself that she would know how much she meant to him and that he would spend the rest of his life showing her and telling her as much as possible. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

#for the love of Bre #John Winchester #fan fic #requested #kazosa

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